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starryevermore · 3 days

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my pain fits in the palm of your freezing hand ✧ azriel

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pairing: azriel x vanserra!fem!reader

summary: azriel tries to fix the mess he made. you almost let him.

word count: 4,529

warnings?: angst city™ bitch, dual povs, threats of death, traumatic childbirth, azriel begging for forgiveness, open ending, there will be no other parts to this, not proofread

PART ONE

As the only daughter of Autumn, your relationship with your brothers was quite different than their relationships with each other. You were no threat to the throne. A female could never be High Lord. Yet, that did not let you free from Beron’s iron tight grip on his family and their perception by Prythian. The only thing a female was good for was marrying well and producing children. If you ever proved yourself to be an embarrassment to the Vanserra family, you learned the limitless bounds of the former High Lord’s wrath. Your brothers would be there to help mend you, offering comfort in the best ways they could. It wasn’t much, but it meant a lot to you.

It damn near broke your heart when you realized you had to leave them behind to be with your mate. Beron would never—ever—allow you to be mated to an Illyrian brute. Knowing that your brothers would only be hurt if you told them, you decided that Eris was the best option in confiding your plan to run. Together, you left a note saying that you were leaving to be with your mate and he helped you cross Autumn’s border. You prayed to the Mother that Beron was not too cruel to him, or your other brothers, when he discovered your disappearance. You knew you would likely not see them again, and you hoped they might forgive you for that. Then everything Under the Mountain happened—you were trapped in Velaris for fifty years, all too aware that you would never find out if they did.

That was the one blessing, you supposed, of returning to the Autumn Court all these decades later. With Beron gone and Eris as High Lord, it was easy to fall back in with your family. Though Eris was ready to march down to the Night Court and burn Azriel where he stood, and your other brothers were ready to follow, things calmed down in the end. The rage still simmered, hovering just below the surface. All it would take was one wrong move by the Night Court and any alliances Eris had previously forged would go up in smoke.

Despite your request for no further correspondence, the Night Court continued to periodically reach out to you. Mostly Feyre because she had been your friend, but occasionally Rhys who would inquire about the status of your pregnancy. Though he never said it outright, you knew it was to find out if your babe had wings. His motives, you were unsure. Was it out of concern for your wellbeing? You recalled how panicked he had been during Feyre’s pregnancy. Perhaps he was worried about you for your sake. A larger part of you thought it was out of concern for his brother. That if your babe had wings, then it would mean you would surely die. And if you were to die, could you find it in your heart to let your mate be by your side one last time? Your skin itched at the thought of Azriel anywhere near your babe.

Truthfully, you didn’t know. Whenever your healer, a kind elderly fae named Brigid, would ask if you wanted to know, you would always decline. You didn’t want to experience your pregnancy knowing there was an expiration date. You wanted to live it, to enjoy it. Because Nesta could not bargain with the Cauldron any longer. Not even her, in all her power, could save you. You would rather spend your final days healing from Azriel’s betrayal and preparing for the birth of your child than worry about the inevitable.

Besides, you were worried that the loyal shadow wound up wrist would run to Azriel at the first sign of harm to you.

Eris was not fond of that choice. He was certain that he could find a way to save your life should it come down to it. You were less convinced. But he was a prideful male, and you had learned long ago to not get in the way of a male’s ego. If he wanted to be delusional, so be it. That didn’t mean you had to feed into those delusions.

Today, however, was a day of celebration. The Fall Equinox had come and so the Forest House was alive with fae from across the courts. The Night Court wasn’t present—hadn’t even been extended an invitation, if Eris was to be believed. You admired his loyalty to you, but you knew the Night Court was not an enemy to be made. To be their ally was to be protected. In a land still wrought from the effects of Amarantha and the King of Hybern, it would be too costly to be making enemies of a court so powerful.

You ignored those concerns today, trying to focus on the festivities. It was hard to enjoy them. You were at the end of your pregnancy. Brigid had warned against your attendance, arguing that you needed to rest. But you were stubborn like your brothers. If you wanted one more night of revelry, you should have it.

That was, ultimately, your downfall.

You were dancing with one of your brothers, Crispin. Or, at the very least, dancing the best you could. You were sure it looked pathetic—a far cry from the elegance Beron beat into you. You were having too much fun to care. So much fun, you almost missed the pain shooting through.

You couldn’t help the gasp that escaped your lips. Crispin froze, extending his arms out to help steady you. “What’s wrong?” he asked. “Do you need to sit?”

“The babe—there’s something wrong with the babe,” you manage, keeling over from the pain.

“Give me one godsdamned reason not to gut you where you stand.”

Azriel barely glanced up at the male in his house. It was only a matter of time, he mused, before one of your brothers came for him. For some reason, Lucien hadn’t been particularly high on the list he made, ranking the likelihood of each brother to come breaking down the door. Mostly because Lucien spent most of his time in the mortal lands, far away from news of what Azriel had done. But, eventually, all word gets out.

“Because I deserve a more painful death than gutting me would provide.”

Lucien’s hand wound itself in Azriel’s hair, yanking it back. A blade pressed against his throat. “Damned right you do. She was always too fucking good for you.”

“I know.”

“Do you know how many males would kill for a mate as kind as her? Do you know how many males begged Beron for her hand? You are lucky she ever spared you the time of day,” Lucien hissed.

Again, Azriel said, “I know.”

And he did. Mother above, he did. Every day of the last nine months, Azriel had been kicking himself for treating you the way he did. How had he misread all of the signs? Why did he let his anxieties, his worries of not being good enough for you, cloud his judgment? Azriel found himself wishing he could turn back time, stop himself from ruining the best thing he ever had.

Now, he was left in the dark. His friends scarcely spoke to him. Ever since Feyre and Rhys learned of his accusations, word spread among the Inner Circle. Cassian looked at him like he didn’t even know his brother. Mor sneered the first time she saw him. Amren hadn’t said a word to him. And Nesta…He was sure she was going to rip his wings off and throw him off the House of Wind. Even Elain looked at him as if he were a monster. Sometimes, though, Feyre would fill him in on the few replies you sent to her letters. And if he asked pathetically enough, Rhys would send you inquiries about your wellbeing. Those never got a reply.

Azriel almost wished he had a mission to go on to distract himself. To able to take his pain out on another helpless soul. But Rhys had barred him from his work. A punishment for his actions, Azriel was sure. Rhysand would never call it that. Always said something about giving Azriel time to reflect. But Azriel was tired of reflecting. Reflection wouldn’t undo what he did. Reflection wouldn’t bring you back.

“You’re a pathetic excuse for a male,” Lucien spat. “Hybern should have killed you. It would have spared the rest of us from your waste of a life.”

He squeezed his eyes shut. It would have killed you, he was sure, if he had died. But at least you would know he loved you. At least you wouldn’t be aching because your mate proved he didn’t trust you. You wouldn’t have your babe, but at least you could be assured that Azriel would never accuse you of infidelity.

“Have you seen her?” Azriel croaked.

Lucien released his hold on Azriel’s hair. He fell forward, but didn’t turn to face the male. He could hear Lucien’s snarl as he said, “Color me surprised when I return from the mortal lands to learn from Elain that you cast my sister aside, made her leave her home, because you refused to listen to her. You’re lucky that Eris answered my letter with haste, explaining she was safe in Autumn. Consider yourself even luckier that the High Lord made me wait to come here before I got that answer. Do you have any idea how far she had to travel on foot? You made a pregnant female—your mate—travel through Winter alone.”

Azriel held back his sob.

“A farmer had to be the one to bring her to Forest House. She would have died if not for his kindness.” Lucien’s hand curled around Azriel’s throat, his nails digging in. “Their blood would have been on your hands if they did.”

“I-I didn’t think—”

“No, you didn’t—”

Hurt,a shadow whispered. Azriel’s head snapped up. He wrenched himself out of Lucien’s death grip, searching for the shadow he hadn’t seen in months. Most of the others had stuck around, hissing their disapproval in his ear. But he knew one had gone missing, prayed to the Mother that it was making sure you were safe when he couldn’t. Come quick.

“What?” Azriel breathed out. No. No. It couldn’t mean you. You were safe, in Autumn. You were under your brothers’ protection. No harm should ever befall you there. None…Unless—

She’s hurt. The babe is stuck. Come—quick.

Azriel jumped out of his seat, moving faster than he had in months. This couldn’t be. The babe didn’t have wings. Surely, if the babe had wings, you would have told Rhysand. You would have told someone. Unless, you didn’t know. He had to get to you. He had to see you.

“Where the hell do you think you’re going?”

“She’s gone into labor,” he managed. The room felt like it was spinning. Was he about to lose you forever? No. No, he couldn’t handle that. He could handle you alive, hating him forever. But to lose you like this…For you to not know how deeply sorry he was, he couldn’t live with that. He would sooner follow you in death than live in a world without you. “The babe has wings.”

Lucien’s eyes narrowed. “They’ll kill you if you go. They’ll make me look like mercy.”

“I-I need to get Madja. She has experience with this. I need to give her a shot.” Azriel sniffed, praying the tears wouldn’t fall. Not now. “Even if she never lets me see the babe, I need to do everything in my power to give them a chance to live.”

Azriel half-expected Lucien to drive his dagger into his heart. Instead, his lip curled. “Go. Before I change my mind. I’ll warn my brothers of your arrival. They will welcome Madja’s help. But whatever they decide to do with you, I will not interfere.”

“Thank you.”

“I’m not doing this for you.”

“I know. But…thank you.”

Your screams do not sound like your own. It sounded like, felt like, it was coming from someone else. Nothing about this, truthfully, felt like it was happening to you. You were vaguely aware of your mother on your right side, Eris on your left. Brigid was between your legs, trying to help the babe into a proper birthing position. Somewhere beyond the closed, oak door you could hear your brothers Crispin and Heath shouting at someone. Oh, you hoped they were terrorizing the servants.

“You’re alright, my love,” your mother was saying as she stroked your hair, “you’re doing so well.”

Your scream was your only response. Fuck. You had never experienced pain quite like this before. Not even Beron’s flames compared to this. It was a miracle you hadn’t passed out yet. Though, the thought of shutting your eyes and closing out the rest of the world was quite tempting. No. You needed to stay strong. If not for yourself, then for your babe. You had to give her a fighting chance.

Her. You were so certain your babe was a female. Brigid had never told you, because you had never asked. If you had known, the gender or the status of wings, you would want to tell Azriel. It would be the one thing, you were certain, that would break your resolve. You weren’t sure if you ever wanted the shadowsinger back into your life, but…Well, he had always want a babe that looked just like you. A little princess to dote on. To show how to fly.

Another scream ripped through you. It felt like your soul was being torn out. Like sharp talons raked down your body, gripping at your essence, ready to take you back to the Mother. You wouldn’t go back. Not until your babe was born. After that…If the Mother wanted you, she could take you. Your babe would be in safe hands with your family.

Desperately, you tried to search out for the shadow that not left your side in nine months. It had become a source of comfort. Its cold nature soothed the flames of Autumn burning inside of you. It reminded you of home. But when your eyes flicked to your wrist, then down your arm, it was gone. How long had it been gone? Why did it abandon you when you finally needed it? Where did it—

Something slammed against the oaken door.

Eris’s head snapped up to glare at the wood. “What in the Cauldron is happening out there?” he hissed.

“Go, check,” your mother said. “We need to keep this room as calm as possible. If your brothers are picking fights out there, then they’ll only make it worse. She cannot afford any unwarranted stress.”

Eris gave a tight nod and stepped away from your side. He didn’t even make it halfway across the room before the door slammed open, the wood splintering. A body hit the floor. Your vision was too blurred to make out who, or the person who stepped over him, approaching your bed. That is, until she was close enough for you to recognize the all-too-familiar face.

“Madja?” you managed. “How—”

“He brought me here,” she said, stepping in between your legs. Brigid made room for you, taking the opportunity to move away to grab some fresh towels. Madja tutted at the sight of you, then got to work.

“I don’t want him here!” The words tumbled out before you could stop them.

You barely caught Madja glancing over to the fallen figure. In the haze, you finally recognized the wings. Azriel. He was here. Your breath caught. That was why the shadow had left you. It had gone to find him. Was it out of loyalty to its master? Or was it out of concern for you? A little shadow escaped from Azriel, speeding back to you. The cold thing stroked your face, as if to comfort you, to apologize for leaving you alone.

Azriel’s head lifted. You were grateful you couldn’t see the hurt in his eyes. Crispin and Heath each grabbed an arm, dragging your mate back up to his feet. Though you all knew he could easily fight them off, he didn’t make a single move. Purple was already beginning to blossom on his exposed bits of skin. Had that been why you heard your brother’s shouting?

Too pained to stand the look of him, you focused back on Madja. “Better or worse than Feyre?” Your voice was tight. It took every bit of your energy to not roar in pain.

“The babe is starting to come out, but her wings are stuck,” she said. “We’ll have to break bones to get her out.”

“Mine or hers?” you nearly cried.

“Both.” Madja glanced up at you. She masked her sorrow well, but you saw through it. You knew the next thing she was going to say, and you knew your answer, too. “I don’t know that I can save you both.”

“Her. Save her.”

“NO!” Azriel shouted.

You barely processed Eris’s body slamming into Azriel. He let out a low groan at the contact. If you weren’t already in so much pain, you would have been able to feel how much that hurt through the bond. You wondered how much Azriel could feel. For the last nine months, you had kept your end closed. But after going into labor, it took too much effort to push him away.

“You are the last godsdamned person who gets to make decisions about her,” Eris hissed. “You’re lucky I don’t throw you in the fucking dungeon—”

“I already gave him the whole speech, brother.”

Lucien? How did he get here? How did he know?

Azriel ignored your brothers. To Madja, he pleaded, “Give her a chance—both of them a chance.”

Eris’s fist landed square on Azriel’s jaw. “Don’t even look in her fucking direction.”

“All of you, out!” your mother shouted. The males all froze in place. “What did I say about removing unnecessary stress? Eris, take him to the library and let him stay there until this is over. The rest of you, make yourselves useful.”

Your attention turned back to Madja, ignoring the sulking males, as her cold hand touched your knee. “We have to make a decision, dear.”

From the corner of your eye, you watched as Azriel stiffened. He wouldn’t be pleased with you, you were sure. And perhaps it was cruel to subject him to the cold pain of losing a mate. But that was mercy compared to what he did to you.

To Madja, you said, “Do what you must.”

Azriel stared at the oak doors of the library. Eris and Lucien had been left at his guards while Crispin and Heath disappeared to gather more supplies for Madja and Brigid. He paid them and their snarls no mind. Nothing could distract him from your wails of pain echoing through Forest House. Every inch of him, every fiber of his being, called for him to go to you. To be by your side. It was only your words that kept him still.

“I don’t want him here!”

Five words was all it took for you to rip Azriel’s heart out. How you did it so succinctly, struck him right to the core, when it took an illogical rant from him to break yours was a mystery to him. Worse yet, Azriel wasn’t sure you were even aware of what you were saying. You looked like you were barely processing Madja’s appearance. Did you truly want him gone?

Visions of your near-lifeless eyes looking at him flashed through his mind. He was going to lose you today. Was it a kinder fate for you to die than live in a world with him? Would things be different if he hadn’t fucked things up so spectacularly? Azriel imagined you in your shared home, your family—the Inner Circle—surrounding you. Love for you would be in the air, not contempt for him. Would that have been enough to save you?

He shook his head. He was being ridiculous. Your family—the Vanserras—loved you, too. Perhaps more than the Inner Circle. While his family was content to ignore his existence, yours was willing to strike him down where he stood for even deigning to show his face in Autumn. He was sure Crispin and Heath would have actually killed him if they hadn’t drove his body through the door first.

Azriel flinched as another scream ripped down the halls.

“Don’t act like this is painful to you,” Eris snarled.

Azriel managed to lift a glare to him. “I can feel everything she does. If she is hurting, so am I.”

“That mattered little to you when you accused her of being a whore,” Lucien said.

“And I will regret to the day I die. I will spend the rest of my days atoning for what I did.” Azriel lifted his chin. “But would killing me save her?”

Eris stepped closer to him. “Don’t even pretend to care about her. Where have you been these last nine months? Where were you when her morning sickness left her unable to leave the bed for days, unable to keep anything down? When she would go to Brigid for updates on the babe? When she couldn’t even pick out things for a nursery because the perfect one was left behind in the Night Court?”

He jerked like he had been slapped. Sometimes, he could still feel the sting of Feyre hitting him. Until today, she had been the only one brave enough to hurt him for what he did. Azriel would take every beating, though, if it meant you would live.

Azriel opened his mouth to respond, but fell short. Silence rung through Forest House. Your screams—they had stopped. The cries of a babe did not fill their place. He tugged desperately at the bond, hoping to feel your pull. Nothing. There was nothing.

No.

No, he couldn’t lose you.

No.

Against his better judgment, Azriel fled from the library. He raced down the hall, the eldest and youngest Vanserra hot on his heels. He needed to see you. He needed to know that you still lived. Perhaps you were asleep. Birth was exhausting. Azriel remembered Feyre slept for hours after having Nyx. Perhaps you were doing the same. But then why wasn’t the babe crying?

The door was ajar when he reached it. It took little effort to push it open, to open himself to the scene on the other side. On the far side of the room, Madja and Brigid had the babe. A beautiful little girl. His beautiful little girl. Azriel’s eyes flicked back to you. Your mother was covering your body with a blanket. Were you truly sleeping? No, you were too still, even by fae standards. Your chest didn’t rise. Your eyelids didn’t flutter.

Azriel’s gaze fell to your limp hand hanging from the edge of the bed. He sank to his knees, reaching for it. He half-expected Eris or Lucien to rip him away, to throw back back over the border. But no one touched him.

“Let him mourn,” he heard your mother say.

“He doesn’t deserve it.” Whether that was Eris or Lucien, he wasn’t sure.

“It matters little what he deserves now.”

You couldn’t be gone. You couldn’t be. Somewhere beyond, a faint cry rang through the room. A weight lifted off his chest. At least the babe survived. At least Madja managed that. But…None of that mattered if you weren’t here, too. None of it mattered if you couldn’t hold her.

A hand touched his shoulder. He lifted his head to stare up at your mother. “Her name is Bronwyn.”

“Thank you,” he whispered.

“We’re going to take her to a wet nurse. But…you may stay for as long as you like. Ignore my sons. They are in pain, too.”

“Thank you,” he said again.

Silence filled the room again. Azriel was certain he was alone again, until he heard padding of footsteps along the wooden floor. He didn’t have to look up to know it was Madja.

“She could still live. It is not…It is not the worst birth I have seen. I have seen weaker women pull through from more horrible circumstances.”

“Why do you tell me this?”

“We believe, when people are in this state of limbo, they can still our world. Talk to her. You might be able to pull her back.”

“She wouldn’t come back for me.”

“Then why did she nearly tell her mother to come get you?” Madja patted his shoulder. “Food for thought. Do as you wish, Spymaster. I will be back to check on her later.”

Azriel did not move for three days and three nights. Despite what Madja had said, he couldn’t find any words to share with you. Everything felt wrong. What was he supposed to say? Apologies would scarcely suffice. Should he beg? It was tempting, but he wasn’t sure his pathetic snifflings would return you, either.

Every so often, your mother would come in, Bronwyn in her arms. She would lay the babe on your chest and coo about how much she was growing already. Lucien would come in to tell you about what he had been doing in the mortal lands. Eris was rant about the politics of being a newly minted High Lord. Heath would talk about the latest book he had read. Crispin came once—sobbed about how he should have realized what was happening, should have gotten you help sooner.

Everyone else had something to say. Something more moving, more earth-shattering, than whatever grovel he would wretch up.

But on the fourth morning, as the morning sunlight began to stream onto you, he lifted himself from his knees. There was just enough space beside you that he could curl up to. It cramped his wings, but he was willing to ignore the pain.

“I should have cherished you,” he whispered. His throat was tight. “I should have trusted you. I do, trust you I mean. Before you, I never knew unconditional love. Even through the last few centuries together, it still boggled my mind that you could look at me and find something worth loving. When I came home that day, I was so scared that you had finally found something better. It will never excuse what I did.”

He reached up, brushing a strand of hair out of your face. “Come back, my wildfire. Not for me. I could spend the rest of my life making up for that mistake, but it would never be enough to warrant your forgiveness. But your family…They shouldn’t be hurt because of what I did. Come back for them. Come back for Bronwyn. Come back, and you will never have to see me again unless you so wish it. Just…live.”

Azriel’s eyes squeezed shut. He felt wetness drip down his face, onto your soft skin where his face was pressed. “Please, live.”

Your eyes opened.

#azriel imagine #azriel x reader #azriel x fem!reader #azriel x you #azriel x y/n #azriel x female reader #azriel fanfiction #azriel fan fiction #azriel fanfic #azriel fan fic #azriel fic #azriel shadowsinger #starrywrites #starryevermore

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vnusoki · 3 days

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I CANT BE WHAT YOU NEED . . .

ノ synopsis. you loved them, of that you were sure. so why did you leave them ?

ノ tags. satoru gojo, suguru geto, nanami kento, toji fushiguro x reader ( separate ). angst. hurt/ no comfort. reader leaves. the men have fatal flaws.

ノ a/n. this is some sad idea I had at the back of my head. the title is a song lyric but I can’t remember it’s name but it’s famous. made this rlly quickly so don’t mind spelling errors.

SATORU GOJO’s fatal flaw is that in a relationship, he could never truly open up to someone. be it his lover, which in this case is you, he can’t find himself telling you his deepest darkest secrets and at the beginning of your relationship that was fine.

you were still fresh to this whole thing and you wanted to take it slow, but the closer you got, the more you knew of him, the further he got away.

it was as if a string had been attached to him, like he was a fish, and whenever you caught him, he would be pulled back by something invisible to everyone but you.

it was like satoru was blinded to it himself.

that had been the reason why you left. satoru was too caught up in his own world. he lacked the ability to truly connect with his significant other yet alone anyone. but he had once, a long time ago.

SUGURU GETO was too caught up in himself to ever truly commit himself to you. you noticed it at first, in the beginning but you hadn’t minded it then. it had been hidden behind the cold lie that he was just passionate in his work.

his work, in fact, consisted of crimes and whatnots. things that thoroughly bugged you but you payed them no heed. turning a head to them, you would walk down the corridor and away from the truth you desperately wanted to hide from.

days went by before suguru would ever truly come to bed, and even then you didn’t speak much, exhaustion having taken over his body, he would retire for the night, leaving you alone with your thoughts and the stars twinkling in the night sky.

you thought he was a star once, from the way he shone one but now he was even more so like it. a star that only isolated himself.

NANAMI KENTO was a work-aholcoholic. once, you’d teasingly remarked he had been married to his wir more than he had been married to you. yo hadn’t thought on it then, but now you could see how right you were.

kento was practically married to his work. he prided himself of getting the best business ideas out before any of his co-workers. that meant staying up late and working till the early hours of the morning.

he never had time for you anymore. first it had been absent nights, but now, it had turned to him not even giving you a kiss goodbye when you left for work.

it was as if you were a roomie that hated the same bed with the other. not that you were partners, or that you were married. you had left the very same night his project he’d been working on for so long, became a success.

TOJI FUSHIGURO was a dangerous man. a traumatised one before even that. he had been through a lot, suffered a lot, and had come out on top.

people had left him. even his previous-wife had left him, not that it was her fault, but you could tell from the scar on his lip, to even the harsh look in his eye that toji was unfamiliar with anything staying permanent in his life.

you’d let it off the first few times, when he made you stay with him a lot more than usual. insisting that your friends wouldn’t mind you skipping just this one weekend. that one weekend turned into several.

until your friends had complained about your controlling boyfriend. they’d been the ones to open your eyes to tojis unhealthy attachment issues.

you’d left before he could become even more stuck to you than he already was.

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hollytoshaw · 2 days

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noisy neighbour part two | harry lewis

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summary: in which y/n owns a coffee shop and harry is her noisy neighbour

word count : 5.7k

part one here

a/n: this is part two of my noisy neighbour series!!! read part one before this <3 there will be more parts to this as its a proper slow burnerrr. sorry for the slow updates i haven't forgotten about this series lol xxx

masterlist <3333

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Y/N had come to the conclusion that life was much better when she didn’t let silly lies get in her way. It had been a week since she had come clean to her noisy neighbour, or Harry, as she now knew him, and life couldn’t get any better.

After the pair had laughed about her moment of foolishness and how they were both a little too loud for their own good, they were able to move past it all and properly get to know the person they were living next door to.

Y/N found out more about Harry’s whole ‘Youtuber’ lifestyle. He was part of a group of seven boys that made videos that came out every Sunday, but he also had other channels in which he’d play computer games and do funny reaction videos—the source of all that playful shouting she had heard through the walls. He told her that he’d gotten bored of his old apartment and wanted a change of scenery, so he chose the small-scale but nonetheless nice flat next door to hers. He lived alone and was 27; his favourite colour was blue, and his favourite cake was chocolate. He liked coffee,cycling, surfing, and the occasional beer, and he loved travelling anywhere in the world, near or far; he just loved exploring places. He had two younger siblings, a brother and a sister, and was from a little channel island named Guernsey. Y/N had never been.

She told him all the little details she could think of about herself in return. She was always sort of bad at introductions, cringing when they used to say ‘’Tell us three facts about you’’ in school, never knowing what to say. But she managed nonetheless. She told him all about her dream of having a cafe of her own and how she came to do so. She loved old music, mainly Abba, to which he laughed and told her he knew already, making a playful jab at the singing he had heard from next door. She too lived alone but was 26; her favourite colour was green, and her favourite cake was lemon. She also liked coffee, not so much cycling or surfing, and opted for cider whenever she went to the pub. While she hadn’t been travelling much herself due to paying off her university debts and then starting up her coffee shop, she still shared the desire to travel anywhere in the world—far away from London.

It was such a breath of fresh air for Y/N. Owning a cafe all on her own meant early mornings and late nights, and her weekends were either spent visiting her parents or nestled away in her flat watching episodes of Vanderpump Rules or trying new recipes for baked goods that she was thinking about selling in the cafe. Because of this, she had found it hard to find time to make friends, and while she had her fair share, she barely saw them; they either had big city jobs or were living outside of London and starting a family. It just felt nice for Y/N to just sit and chat with someone a similar age to her and talk about nonsense for a while.

While the conversation the pair shared was cut short by Harry needing to get to work and record a podcast, they shared numbers (only in case one of them got a parcel for the other, of course), and Harry said he’d pop back in soon to finish where they left off.

So that was it. It had been a week, and she hadn’t seen him since, but that was all she could think about. It wasn’t even like Y/N had a crush, or so she convinced herself, but she longed to talk to him again; it just felt nice. While the occasional old lady that came into the cafe was great to chat with, asking away about how her day was going or what their plans were for the day, she still preferred the little chat she had with Harry; it just felt different, and she couldn’t put her finger on why.

But then she got all in her own head. Maybe he didn’t come back in because he realised she was a bit weird, having lied about living next door and that he was only being friendly and entertaining the conversation, but in reality, he didn’t want to be talking to her at all. Y/N knew she was probably getting a bit ahead of herself, but she couldn’t help but think the worst. She had always been a bit of a pessimist.

It was now Monday again, and the cafe had just begun to die down after the lunch rush. After cleaning tables and putting cups and saucers back in place, Y/N finally felt like she had it all under control. There was no one in the shop, and looking at the time, the clock read 1:00 p.m., a perfect chance for Y/N to have her lunch break. She had scoffed a croissant earlier that morning and topped herself up with flat whites throughout the day, but now she was starving. She walked over to the door, flipping the ‘open’ sign to ‘close’ and walked back behind the counter to prepare herself something nice to eat.

She wasn’t long into making a ham and cheese toastie when she heard three loud knocks on the glass door. Usually she’d shout ‘’We’re closed’’ and continue what she was doing, but another three knocks followed, and she thought she’d just let them in and eat her sandwich another time.

As she turned around, she saw a hooded figure standing outside the door—it was lashing rain in London today (shocker) —but she could barely make their face out through the raindrops on the door. Nearing closer, she realised it was Harry. After a week, he’d returned. Maybe her pessimism wasn’t always right.

Letting him in, she moved back as he took his coat off, the black puffer soaked from the awful weather.

''Hello, you,’’ he smiled, lifting the hood of his jumper from his head. ‘’Didn’t realise you closed this early.’’

‘’Hiya,’’ she smiled back. ‘’Just closed for lunch, that’s all.’’

Furrowing his brows, he replied, ''U-Oh, right, I can come back later if you’re busy.’’

She laughed, taking his coat from him to hang it up on the coat stand next to the door. ‘’Don’t be silly. I’m only having a toastie, nothing special.’’

‘’Lovely stuff,’’ he said, clapping his hands together and following her towards the counter.

‘’How’ve you been?’’ she asked. ‘’Horrible weather today, isn’t it?’’ Classic brit filling empty silence with talks of the weather.

‘’I know, proper pain in the arse,’’ he laughed. ‘’Been good, though. Just back from a holiday with the boys, but so typical, I’ve come back to the shittest weather possible.’’

''Ooh, lucky you,’’ Y/N smiled as she resumed the making of her lunch. ‘’Go anywhere nice?’’

‘’Went to the Maldives for two days for a video,’’ he said nonchalantly, ‘’was a good laugh though.’’

‘’Wow, that must've been unreal.’’ she gasped, placing her sandwich on a small green plate before looking back at him. ‘’Can I get you anything to eat? I feel like a knob if I’m sat scoffing my face and I’ve not made you anything.’’

Harry smiled, watching as the girl moved her plaited hair so that it was out of her face. He thought she was quite pretty with her hair tied back, freckled cheeks, and a peach-coloured blusher on her face. She was wearing her same old green apron, but instead of the jumper she had on the last time he saw her, she had a striped long-sleeve top paired with black jeans. Yeah, she was really quite pretty, he thought.

‘’No, I’m fine, thanks. I got a meal deal in the airport earlier,’’ he paused. ‘’And I’m trying to keep off the cakes, but they do look bloody brilliant today.’’

Y/N laughed, ''Well, you’re in the wrong place if you’re trying to keep off the sweet stuff. I got cakes coming out of my ears in this place.’’

The conversation felt easy for Y/N. It was almost weird to think about their first few conversations, stiff and awkward, thinking the other was a bit rude and not really interested in making small talk. But now, it felt like they could talk for ages; the initial uneasiness was now a distant memory.

‘’So what brings you here?’’ she started. ‘’Surprised you’re not straight to bed after that long flight.’’

They sat down at a little table in front of the counter, Y/N enjoying her lunch and Harry watching, fumbling with his fingers.

''Oh, trust me, I’m knackered.’’ he laughed. ‘’But I thought I’d pop in. Remember, I said I would last time, finish where we left off, and all.’’

Course Y/N was remembered. It had been all she thought about for the last seven days.

‘’Oh right, yeah’’ she said between mouthfuls of her sandwich. ‘’Well,tell me all about this Maldives trip then.’’

✩ ✩ ✩

A few days had passed since Y/N and Harry’s last encounter. And that was all she could think about.

After leaving her cafe to go back to his flat, the pair shared a few jokey text messages: Harry sending her random pictures he’d taken on his holiday and Y/N sharing snaps of new baked goods that she’d made, with him responding with a classic ‘Save me one.’ It was nothing serious, but it was nice to have playful conversations away from her busy working day and Harry’s video shoots.

Despite only a small proximity separating the pair, Y/N longed for the next time she might bump into him, almost hoping that a parcel would get delivered to the wrong address to give her some reason to knock on his door or that he’d finally succumb to his sweet tooth and trod down the stairs to try whatever fresh baked treats she had to offer.

It made her laugh that only a few weeks ago she’d dreaded the thought of seeing him and hated the thought of having to make small talk with him, but now it was all she’d thought of. And don’t get her wrong, she was no romanticist or anything of that sort but when she found something she liked or in this case, a person she liked talking to, it was hard for her to take her mind away from them.

Another day had come to an end for Y/N. The aroma of freshly brewed coffee lingered in the air as she wiped down the last table in her cosy little shop. It had been a long day for her, filled with the hustle and bustle of customers coming in and out. She felt swept off her feet trying to make sure everything ran smoothly and made a mental note that maybe it was time to hire some help.

Now, as the clock struck closing time, Y/N couldn’t wait to retreat to the comfort of her upstairs flat. Locking up the cafe, she made her way up the narrow staircase and into her home. The familiar creak of the stairs under her feet echoed in the empty hallway—a comforting sound that signalled the end of another day’s work.

As she reached the door, she let out a contented sigh—peace at last. Turning the key in the lock, she pushed open the door and stepped into her sanctuary.

The soft glow of string lights greeted her, casting a warm and inviting atmosphere through the room. She’d forgotten to turn them off the night before and was surprised the batteries had lasted the day. Kicking off her shoes, she padded across the hardwood floor to her living area, where a plush green sofa beckoned her to sink into its comforting embrace.

Her days always went the same after work. She’d come upstairs, sit down on the sofa, and stick some random television show on for some background noise, needing to just sit for a moment after being on her feet all day. The stress of the day always melted away as she allowed herself to just be in the moment, relishing the peace and quiet of her own space.

Next to the sofa, a stack of books awaited her attention. She had been reading some Dolly Alderton novel that a friend had recommended, and so far she was loving it. There was nothing quite like getting lost in the pages of a good book; all she needed now was a nice cup of tea, and she’d be in heaven.

It’d felt like hours had passed as Y/N finally got to the end of another chapter. The gentle hum of the TV in the background continued as Y/N settled down the book and turned her attention to her phone, wondering if she had any new messages from a certain someone. And lo and behold, she did.

Clicking the message open, she saw a picture that Harry had taken from what she assumed to be his living room. Her view was similar, just at a different angle—the Shoreditch’s streets looking equally as ‘London’-esque from both their windows. He had added a little message to the bottom of it: ‘This weather is mental. Think it calls for tea and some cake.’ Y/N hadn’t seen the message with her phone on ‘Do not disturb’ and her eyes well focused on the piece of fiction she was reading, and he had sent it over twenty minutes ago, but she assumed he was still next door, not wanting to dare step out in the treacherous rain.

She wondered if he was hinting at her to send him a text and offer some cakes from downstairs. Or maybe even invite him over to try the pastries she’d sent him a picture of only a few days ago. Of course, Y/N didn’t really know if he was hinting at anything, but she really hoped he was. The time on her phone showed it was just past 7:00 p.m., and having eaten a small lunch earlier in the day, she too was in the mood for some cake and tea, not really bothered by the thought of cooking dinner and having to wash up loads of pots and pans in the kitchen.

She lifted herself up from the comfy sofa and into her kitchen space, opening the fridge to see if she had any nice delights to cure her craving. There sat a small blue tupperware, inside two vanilla cupcakes, left over from the day, perfect. Two. Perfect.

Whether he had been hinting or not, Y/N took the tupperware in hand and stuffed her feet into her fluffy slippers. Unlocking her door and making her way down the stairs towards his door, she felt giddy. She thought it was a nice gesture to turn up with a little treat that he had longed for, and she hoped maybe the two could share a nice chat over a cup of tea as they looked out on the London rain. It’d be nice.

As she got to the door, she lifted her hand up, ready to press the buzzer to his blue door, but as she did, she heard the faint strains of music drifting through the air, accompanied by a girl’s laughter. Her hand froze, and a wave of disappointment washed over her. Doubt crept into Y/N’s mind, and she couldn’t bring herself to interrupt whatever moment Harry was sharing with another.

With a heavy sigh, Y/N turned on her heel and retreated back up the stairs to her flat. She knew she was being silly, but she felt a sting in her heart, and she couldn’t shake the image of Harry’s front door from her mind.

Back in her kitchen. Y/N set the cupcakes on the counter; her appetite for something sweet was now long gone. She wondered if she had misinterpreted Harry’s kindness and their conversations as something more. Sure, the two had shared a few playful texts, updates throughout the day, and random pictures, but that was the extent of it so far. Y/N felt like an idiot.

She never did respond to Harry’s text that night.

✩ ✩ ✩

Another few days passed, and Y/N had finally gotten over her little strop. Well…sort of. She didn’t have much to go on other than the fact that she’d heard a woman’s voice and lots of laughter, which she knew didn’t necessarily mean Harry had a girlfriend, but she'd rather nip her feelings in the bud than wonder about the what-ifs that could of been had he opened the door. Plus, Y/N felt a bit silly. He’d never given an indication that their chats were anything more than friendly, and the texts they shared weren’t suggestive in any way—I mean, you could probably send your mother the same things. So she knew it was better to cut her little strop short before she got herself all tangled up in her feelings.

She’d had another long week in the cafe, busy with big orders and endless amounts of coffee, and she knew it was definitely time she put out an advertisement for a job vacancy. But that was a job for another day as she was currently getting ready to go out with a few friends in a pub just near Old Street. It had been a while since she’d found the time to meet up with people (with their big city jobs and her never ending hustle in the cafe) and considering she’d given Harry radio silence for the past few days, this was the most socialising she’d done outside of the occasional old lady in the cafe. So, Y/N was buzzing. She reached for her favourite pair of Adidas Sambas, their sleek black design accentuating her style. The leather was very worn despite carrying many stories of past adventures. Y/N made a mental note that she’d get a new pair out of her next paycheck. Her outfit was bold yet chic, a lot different from her usual jeans, t-shirt, and green apron combo. A leopard print midi skirt is paired with a black fitted crop top and a leather jacket over her shoulders to give the outfit unmistakable flair. She always enjoyed dressing up, even if it was just for a quick pint—it just gave her something to do and was a nice change from her usual get-up.

With a flick of her wrist, she grabbed her essentials—a phone, cardholder, and keys—and headed out the door. It wasn’t raining in London for once, with spring slowly creeping in, so Y/N didn’t bother with an umbrella, deciding her jacket was enough protection from whatever the weather had in mind. It felt nice as she walked along the busy Shoreditch streets with the city lights beckoning, couples holding hands, groups of friends laughing—it made her heart squeeze, and she felt like the night was promising her excitement and all sorts of possibilities.

The pub night was everything Y/N had hoped it would be. It had been a welcome contrast of warmth and laughter, and seeing her friends, who usually worked nine to five, was a breath of fresh air. With flushed cheeks from all the lively conversations and talks of fond memories, not to mention the five pints of fruity cider she had drank, Y/N left the pub with the cheesiest grin on her face. A few kisses to the cheek and warm hugs later, Y/N waved goodbye to her group of mates and headed back towards the Old Street roundabout.

The city seemed quieter now; most of its energy was subdued despite it only being 10:00 p.m. Walking around familiar streets, she felt a sense of comfort in solitude but wished she hadn’t forgotten her airpods because there’d be nothing better than a peaceful stroll accompanied by her favourite indie music playlist in the back.

The pub was only about a ten-minute walk from her flat, so it didn’t take too long, and Y/N felt herself subconsciously speed walking as the cold London air got to her, now regretting her choice of jacket. As she neared closer to her doorstep, she could see a hooded figure placed on it, a backpack in front of them, and a phone in their hand as they scrolled aimlessly. Her eyes felt a bit hazy from the cider, and she approached apprehensively, her mind wandering to the possibilities of it being a crazy ex-boyfriend or a drunken friend hoping to rest their heads for the night. But as she moved closer, her anxiousness eased. It was only her neighbour. Harry. Harry, who she’d given the cold shoulder to for the past few days.

His friendly face looked up at the sound of her approaching footsteps. A slightly flustered expression on his face.

‘’Hi Harry,’’ she smiled. ‘’You alright?’’

Getting up from his crouched position, he moved aside, letting her stand in front of her own door. ''Oh, you life saver, been waiting ages.’’

She looked up at him, a glow on her face, not too sure if it was caused by the pints or his general presence. ‘’What for?’’

‘’I’ve been a right numpty and locked myself out.’’ he laughed.

‘’Oh shit,’’ she laughed back, buzzing from alcohol. Y/N was a lightweight by definition; the smell of alcohol could probably get her drunk, and at this moment she felt buzzed.

‘’I know, pain the arse,’’ Harry said, pinching in between his eyes. ‘’Can’t even try to get a key cut because everywhere’s shut.’’

‘’You got any friends that’ll let you crash for the night?’’ Y/N asked, feeling genuine concern for the poor boy sitting outside their doors. She hadn’t even asked how long he’d been there—it could have been hours.

‘’Tried a few but got no response,’’ Harry sighed, "I guess no one wants a rogue sleepover at 10 at night.’’

‘’Good friends you’ve got,’’ she teased, confidence of drink taking over her.

‘’Oh shush you,’’ he playfully said back.

A small silence fell over the toy as Y/N fumbled around in her bag to find her keys, the street light giving her enough of a torch to be able to find them. Every time she drank, she’d experience a small panic that she’d managed to lose all of her belongings, but luckily for her, everything seemed intact.

‘’So what are you going to do?’’ Y/N said as she went to put her key in the lock.

Harry paused for a moment. While the two had shared the occasional message and nice chat over coffee, he felt a bit bold with what he was about to ask. Not being the most social person, he had weighed out the options of whether or not it would be awkward if she'd say yes to his question—he'd more than likely have to sit chatting for a while and then maybe have an uncomfortable sleep on whatever sofa or bed she’d have to offer—but at the same time, he reminded himself that it was only Y/N and whatever awkwardness could have come between them had well and truly been dissolved by their initial meeting. And truthfully, Harry was all for saying outlandish things and asking rogue questions, so if she did say no, he’d just take it on the chin and find somewhere else to go.

‘’I hate to ask,’’ he paused sheepishly. ‘’I really do. But by any chance, I could come in for a bit, or at least till one of my friends picks up their phone and lets me stay around theirs.’’

‘’You hate to ask?’’ Y/N smirked, cocking her head to one side. ‘’Am I really that insufferable?’’

Harry’s eyes widened at her words. ''N-no, no, not at all. It’s just that I thought, ’’

‘’Stop your blubbering for a moment,’’ she laughed. ‘’It’s fine, really.’’

‘’You sure?’’ he smiled. ‘’Don’t have to say yes, 'coz you feel sorry for me.’’

And yes, Y/N did feel a bit sorry for the blubbering boy sitting in front of their adjacent doors. She couldn’t imagine anything worse than being locked out of her own flat and left out in the cold in London with nowhere else to go—it was a frustrating inconvenience to say the least. Plus, Y/N was always a bit of a generous soul, never really able to say no to people, always biting her tongue when she felt awkward, and with a few pints combined, she was feeling especially generous.

‘’Honestly, no bother.’’ she replied, unlocking her door. ‘’I’ll probably be awake for the next few hours anyway, so companies are good.’’ An absolute lie on Y/N’s part. Any drink would usually send Y/N into a tired haze, and she couldn’t think of anything better than sticking on her pyjamas and curling up in bed, but it’d have to be put on hold for the night.

Following her up the stairs and into her living area, Harry let his eyes analyse the room. Fairy lights adorned nearly every wall, blankets crowded on the sofa, a few plants dotted around the room, and an endless amount of cookbooks—while Harry didn’t know too much about Y/N, he could still recognise that her little flat was an exact replica of her as a person.

‘’Nice place,’’ he said, placing his backpack down on the wooden floor.

‘’Cheers,’’ she smiled, ‘’similar to yours?’’

‘’Similar size, but mines full of cardboard boxes at the moment,’’ he laughed, ‘’yours has a lot more life to it.’’

‘’Took a good few IKEA trips to get it this perfect, I won’t lie.’’ Since walking in, Y/N had dropped her bag by the door, walking into the kitchen space to find some snacks or atleast a drink to give to her unexpected guest.

‘’You want a cider?’’ she asked, rummaging through the fridge to find a can of Strawberry Old Mout that she had left over from the last time she had a guest in her flat. She couldn’t help but feel a bit nervous as she looked around the brightly lit fridge - it felt weird having Harry in her flat. Different somehow, more intimate than their casual chats down in the cafe or over text. But especially after her little moment of weakness the other day and the fact that he more than likely had a girlfriend, she pushed those thoughts aside and focused on being the good host she was.

"You know what- I’ll take one," he replied,thinking nothing sounded better than a cold cider after his shambles of an evening. ‘’Only if you’re drinking too - don’t wanna start getting leathered on my own,’’

‘’As if you’d get leathered off of one cider,’’ Y/N laughed, passing him a can and cracking open her own, ‘’Plus I’m 5 ciders deep already so think it’ll be me getting leathered, not you.’’

Harry shared a laugh with her, holding his hands up in defeat, ‘’Alright, you piss head. You just been necking ciders on London streets then or what?’’

‘’Oh shut up,’’ if she had been closer to him, Y/N probably would of swatted him on the arm for the absolute nonsense that left his mouth but the kitchen counter separated the two, so she kept her arms to her side, ‘’I was just out in the pub.’’

‘’So that’s what the mysterious Y/N gets up to when she’s not running a cafe,’’ he said, raising his eyebrows as if he’d uncovered some maddening truth about her.

‘’Mysterious?’’ she snorted back regrettably but she couldn’t help it and plus after a few drinks, her snorted laugh always seemed to appear.

‘’Well ye-yeah, mysterious.’’ he paused, taking another big gulp of his drink and Y/N wouldn’t have been surprised if he’d managed to finish it by now. ‘’Haven’t heard from you in a few days and then you come swanning in after a few pints, I’d say that’s pretty mysterious.’’

‘’God, you talk some shit,’’ she said, laughing at his use of words.

‘’S’true though, haven’t heard from you.’’

‘’I haven’t heard from you either?’’

‘’You liar! I texted you the other night and got no reply,’’ Harry said, clutching at his heart in a playful manner, ‘’really hurt my feelings.’’

‘’You’re such a windup,’’ she grinned, ‘’Didn’t take you as the type to be hung up over no replies,’’

‘’Broke my heart really. I was waiting for you to reply and say you had a cake and a chat waiting for me but got nothing.’

So maybe Y/N hadn’t taken his hints wrongly.

‘’And then my sister turned up and I couldn’t even come round and pester you for a slice of lemon cake,’’ he continued, ‘’my plan went out the window,’’ His sister! Y/N mentally scolded herself in her head for being so silly that night and thinking the worst.

‘’Your plan?’’ she challenged.

‘’Yeah, my plan to butter you up and then steal every last slice of cake you had going for you.’’ he joked.

What an idiot, Y/N thought. But a funny idiot, nonetheless. ‘Ah, well, you should have told me your sister was round and I would have been more than happy to share something with her - sure, she would have been better company than you anyways,’’ she joked, in return. She couldn’t tell if it was the ciders making her head feel dizzy or nonchalant playfulness, but she felt giddy and confident.

‘’No one likes a liar, Y/N.’’ he beamed, ‘’We both know that’s a massive lie.’’

‘’Hmm maybe.’’

‘’So, pub, did you say?’’ he questioned, ‘’W-was it a date or?’’

‘’Think I go to the pub on a first date?’’ she said, raising her brow in amusement.

‘’Nothing wrong with a pint and a bag of crisps for the first date.’’ he defended.

‘’It’s that where you take all your unlucky ladies then?’’

‘’Ha! Unlucky. It’d be the luckiest night of their lives,’’

‘’Oh I bet,’’ Y/N laughed, ‘’But no, just a few drinks with some of my friends. Nothing mad.’’

‘’Very cool.’’ Harry grinned.

‘’Shut-up,’’ Y/N grinned back in return.

The two fell into a silence, each other not really knowing what to say. Y/N could feel the lull of the alcohol weaning off and she knew she’d be drifting off if she stayed up any longer. She didn’t want to come across rude, enjoying his company but her bed was calling her name and she needed to call it a night knowing she had to be up in the morning to sort out admin for the cafe.

‘’I think I might head to bed, I’m feeling knackered.’’ Y/N sighed.

‘’Leaving me all alone, one cider deep?’’ Harry laughed.

‘’Sorry but I don’t think I can keep my eyes open for any longer,’’ A giggle uttering from her lips, ‘’You’re more than welcome to stay on the sofa thought until you get your keys sorted and all.’’

‘’You’re a star, Y/N.’’ Harry smiled in return as he made his way to the couch to make himself comfortable for the night. He couldn’t have been more grateful for her in the moment, thinking back to not so long ago when he was out in the cold, locked outside of his flat. Course, they’d made familiar with each other the past few weeks but he couldn’t get over the kindness of the girl - or pity that she had for him - but either way he was thankful nonetheless.

‘’There’s a few blankets on the side and some cushions so it shouldn’t be too uncomfortable,’’ Y/N paused, walking over the basket of random throws and cushions she had by the corner of her living room, signalling him to choose his pickings. ‘’Right, I’ll see you in the morning. Night Harry.’’

‘’Night, Y/N. Thanks again.’’ And that was the last thing he saw, her gleaming smile, cheeks red from alcohol as she walked down the hall to the last room that he knew now was her bedroom and headed to bed.

Y/N woke up with a pounding headache the next morning followed by a dry mouth and a queasy stomach. She hadn’t even drank much but in her defense she rarely ever did so any alcoholic beverage would always send her sideways the next day. Blinking against the harsh sunlight streaming through her window, she groaned, regretting the cheap ciders of the previous night. Her memory was a bit hazy, blurred by the fog of alcohol but she did remember one thing. There was a Harry on her sofa.

Dragging herself out of bed, she quickly sorted herself out, combing through her hair and fixing her pyjamas, not wanting to look an absolute state in front of the boy. She stumbled to the kitchen, head throbbing with every step, desperate for a glass of water. But as she walked into her living space, he was nowhere to be found. Surely she hadn’t been so drunk she had imagined the whole night.

She could remember everything from the loud music of the pub, the dancing and laughs she shared with her friends. And she most definitely remembered the blue eyed boy that was sat outside her front door, locked out from his home.

She did a quick check of her phone to see if she had any texts from Harry but the only notifications were a few Instagram tags from her mates and a text from her mum asking what she thought of the banana loaf she had made. Nothing from Harry.

Walking around the kitchen to grab a glass for her water, she noticed out of the corner of her eye the little notepad she had on her kitchen counter was opened, a few words scribbled on it and a black biro pen next to it.

On the note read ‘Thank you for letting me stay last night, you’re an angel. I had to leave early this morning to meet the landlord for a spare key but I really do owe you. Let me know when you’re free, I’m thinking of dinner on me? Thank you again, Harry x’

With a little smile on her lips as he fingers traced over his messy handwriting, she felt a sigh of relief. Dinner on him, it was and she couldn’t wait.

a/n: thank you for reading. sorry for the wait!!! there defo won't be a long wait for part three. this is such a slow burn but promise it gets more cutesy in part three <333

#w2s #wroetoshaw #w2s x reader #harry wroetoshaw #harry lewis #harry w2s #sidemen #w2s fic #w2s imagine #wroetoshaw imagine #wroetoshaw oneshot #hollytoshaw #chris md #arthurtv #sidemen x reader

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niqhtlord01 · 2 days

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Humans are weird: Family Drama

( Please come see me on my new patreon and support me for early access to stories and personal story requests :D https://www.patreon.com/NiqhtLord Every bit helps)

To Abarxsis one’s family was something sacred and meant to be treasured. It contained those who were with you from the first moments of your age and would join you along your journey through time longer than any friend or colleague could. It was a feeling he held onto greatly and shaped the foundation of who he was. It was a trait he was glad to see shared amongst many humans as they too sought out family to such an extreme that they would pack bond with anyone or anything to obtain that sense of unity. Yet it was with some great surprise that when he inquired about his human lovers’ family they would refuse to even mention them.

Whenever the topic of family was brought up their mood would shift like a switch had been flipped and all the joy and expression of them would bleed away and be replaced with a cold chill. Abarxsis learned that it was unwise to bring up the topic, but he still could not let it go until he knew why they were so against their own kin.

One night, Abarxsis was watching human entertainment while his lover slept and saw a strange situation unfold. The protagonist, like his lover, also was estranged from their family and refused to meet them. So the other characters surprised them by inviting their family over without telling them so the two parties could reunite and make peace once more.

This notion of restoring unity gave Abarxsis the idea that he could do the same for his lover and so he set out to track them down himself. It took several months of messages and follow ups until finally he had tracked down their family. When he mentioned that he wished for them to reunite they were thrilled at the prospect and agreed to meet them for dinner.

The day finally came and Abarxsis had taken his lover out under the pretext of a romantic dinner. When the pair arrived the rest of the family was already waiting at the table. They stood and smiled as the pair approached and extended hands of friendship, but Abarxsis noticed his lover had remained frozen at the doorway.

A myriad of emotions went across their face as their eyes focused on the family. Their hands tightened into fists as they looked slowly from the table to Abarxsis, who was still smiling, and glared at him.

“You did this?” she asked through clenched teeth.

The smile quickly fell away from Abarxsis’s face as he realized something was very much wrong.

“Abarxsis did.” He confirmed. “Abarxsis saw how talking of family upset Kelly, so Abarxsis-“

Kelly turned and left the room without hearing out the rest of his reasoning. He turned back and saw Kelly’s family looking confused and went after his lover. She stood out in front of the restaurant pulling out her communicator to summon a hover cab.

“What is wrong?” Abarxsis asked as he came up behind her. Kelly’s head turned to him to see it now awash with rage and anger….and betrayal, much to Abarxsis’s surprise.

“I told you I didn’t want to talk about my family.” Kelly began, her fists still clenched tight. “I had made it perfectly clear that I had no desire to speak with them, or speak of them, or even be near them from the moment we met.”

“Abarxsis know’s this-“ Abarxsis began but Kelly held up a hand to forestall him.

“You don’t speak,” she remarked harshly, “just stand there and listen because I am about to be as fucking direct as I can possibly be.”

Kelly only swore to Abarxsis when she was truly angry so Abarxsis remained silent as she continued.

“My family……”,she stopped and collected her thoughts for a moment as if a torrent of words wished to flow all at the same time from her mouth, “are nothing but parasites; and I have not wanted them near them since the day I left their hellhole of a home.”

“They have leached off me financially, mentally, and emotionally all my life. I was the only one to hold a stable job and they expected me to pay for them while they sat around and did nothing. I was the one they came to when they were dumped by their lovers after they found out they were cheating on them. And when I told them I wanted no more part in their problems they berated me by telling me without them I would not even be here so “it was the least you can do to be grateful”.”

Abarxsis had seen his lover angry before but this was something else. This was not just simple disdain or annoyance; this was a deep rooted hatred that ran through the core of Kelly’s being.

“I left,” she continued, “because it was the only way I could be free from their toxicity and now, despite me telling you otherwise, you have brought that toxicity back to me.”

“But..” Abarxsis spoke unsurely, “they are still Kelly’s family.”

“You were my new family.” Kelly laughed without joy and fixed him with a cold stare. “They stopped being my family the day I left them.”

A hover car slowly pulled up and the door popped open for Kelly. She started to enter when the rest of the family came out and started calling out to her. Abarxsis watched Kelly look back at him and see her expression now one of disappointment and sorrow, before she entered the hover car and closed the door behind her.

The hover car pulled away as the family came up and began calling out Kelly’s name while shouting recent needs for money or how disappointed they were that she hadn’t spoken to them in so long. Once the hover car was out of sight the family then turned on Abarxsis making the same demands. Abarxsis looked at them with confusion as this was not what a family should be. The love and support he had felt from his was nowhere within the eyes of Kelly’s former family.

Abarxsis came to understand why Kelly did what she did and realized that despite their constant need to pack bonding and need for family, the human concept of family was something not as simple to define.

#humans are insane #humans are weird #humans are space oddities #humans are space orcs #story #writing #original writing #niqhtlord01 #family drama

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houserautha · 1 day

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Feyd is the type to go on and on about getting his wife/partner pregnant but when it comes to actually raising a child? The dramaaaaaa(and unhealed trauma) Ideally Feyd wants to raise a strong and ruthless warrior worthy of succeeding him when the time comes but like what if the little guy(probably a boy bc the prophecy and all that)just got real unlucky in the genetics lottery all the crazy and bloodthirsty-ness his parents have just skips a generation and he's the most sensitive and shy creature to ever be born on geidi prime the most un-harkonen harkonen Feyd getting frustrated his child doesn't have the strength to pick up a sword without trembling,to shed blood without wincing,to take a life without crying canonically I think he'd just throw the kid in the woods to fend for himself Sparta style and hope they die or return and be "normal" thinks he's been coddled for far too long because he just can't accept his son is so different from him sorry to dump all this on you dude I just had to talk to this to somebody!😭💀

Wait don’t apologize I actually really love this

Feyd would be incredibly insecure about fatherhood. He would struggle to connect with a newborn and swear that his son hates him because he always bursts into tears whenever Feyd picks him up. And as a toddler?? Feyd is already as volatile as a toddler so his son would infuriate him😂 I feel like he would snap and be impatient and frustrated. And maybe because he feels so insecure about his parenting/relationship with his son, he throws himself into work so that he doesn’t have to interact with his son as much

So his son grows up with a pretty explosive, absent father. Now he’s a child, and Feyd shows an interest in him again — it’s time to learn how to fight. Feyd spars with his son until his body is mottled with bruises and snot dries on his upper lip; Feyd is appalled by his son’s “weakness” and so shocked that he lashes out at him. Feyd definitely does not understand how to regulate his emotions or disguise his thoughts.

(Now, feel free to disregard this part because it’s related to TDE) Reader knows what it’s like to have your parents disappointed in you and your capabilities, so she nurtures her son and encourages him to do what he likes. I think it would be especially funny if their son is like naturally very tall and strong but is like Ferdinand and just wants to sit in the sun and read all day😂

So reader allows their son to pursue his interests — reading and politics and academics, which he excels in. He grows into a teenager. Other children his age mock him because he is so unlike any other Harkonnen, tease him that his mother must’ve been unfaithful. Their son, in turn, keeps to himself and doesn’t have any friends.

At this point I think Feyd (sadly) would’ve given up on his son. He would occasionally force him to take up a dagger or throw a punch, claiming that no son of his would be so weak. Now, as much as the son loathes these training sessions and his father’s cruelty, he desperately wants his approval. Which is the only reason he continues to agree to let Feyd push him to the dirt over and over again, to draw blood; to belittle him.

And this would drive a wedge in between Feyd and reader’s relationship. She understands Feyd’s own unresolved trauma and the Harkonnen battle culture, but she doesn’t understand how her husband could be so unkind to their son — who looks like a combination of them both, with Feyd’s plush lips but your distinct Atreides nose, brows always pulled down in concentration over his dark eyes.

“He will never survive here,” Feyd snarls at you one evening, when the conversation naturally drifts to your son as it always does. Feyd is shaking with his heightened emotions. “I just want him to be successful.”

And you push back, “He is successful.“

“His achievements mean nothing to the other Harkonnens. They demand brutality and blood, not his…weakness.”

And maybe as their son turns eighteen (or whatever age Harkonnens are deemed an adult, maybe younger because they don’t live very long lives) Feyd sends their son on the ceremonial journey into the Giedi Prime wilderness. Reader is unable to prevent this. Their son is expected to forge his own way home or perish. Now, their son takes an abnormally long time to return but he does — half dead because he refused to kill any wildlife or steal from others, surviving only on his wit and his knowledge of survival.

Feyd is not impressed.

And maybe this strenuous relationship continues well their son’s adulthood. It’s not until a political rival challenges Feyd that he discovers just how strong his son is. The rival is peaceful and refuses to fight or draw a weapon, and Feyd knows he can’t initiate an attack without suffering the consequences. He entirely has no idea how to handle this. But his son does.

His son knows all about this rival’s culture and history, how to appeal to them, how to navigate their political court and ultimately subdue the threat that they pose. For the first time, Feyd is proud of his son.

And thus begins the turn around of their relationship and Feyd realizing that strength does not always have to be physical. His son is probably in his late twenties/early thirties by now and Feyd takes to teaching his son less aggressive ways to fight — poison and pressure points and defensive measure — and allows his son to teach him about what he knows.

It certainly doesn’t blossom and thrive overnight. They are staunchly opposed to each other’s beliefs but somewhat begrudgingly begin to trust one another and build respect and admiration.

Feyd doesn’t know how to apologize or how to express his guilt over his son’s wasted childhood, but you bet your ass he leaps to his son’s defense whenever he gets the chance and defends him relentlessly.

And, oh, just wait until he becomes a grandfather.

Finally he feels he can rectify his wrongs.

#wow okay there’s a whole history lesson for you #I took this and just fucking ran with it #I actually love this idea so much #and they name their son Brutus #and he is the most gentle spirit #feyd rautha #feyd x reader #feyd x you #dune #feyd rautha harkonnen #these destined ends

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nicohischierz · 3 days

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who's afraid of little old me?: nico x player!reader

tagging: @ivy-34, @francesfarhadi, @hzstry8, @cixrosie, @itsnotgray, @estapa94, @trevs-swiftie, @heartz4hischif you want to join the taglist let me know!!

you stalked the comments under your post, whilst you knew you shouldn't have paid any attention to what was being said, you couldn't help yourself as curiosity got the best of you.

negativity is something everyone would tell you not to pay attention to but it was hard to do so when it was everywhere. it was as if the fans were ready to attack you at any point.

they didn't understand the hard work you put in to make it to the NHL. the blood, sweat and tears that went into ensuring your place in a professional hockey league.

the comments made by fans who didn't appreciate your hiatus were something you expected but after years of enduring such unnecessary hate, their comments only fuelled your want to play better in the season to come.

after giving birth to your daughter, you readied yourself for world championship games and surprised everyone when your name appeared on the list.

your interview was like a record scratch at a party. the interviewers asked about the influx of negativity towards you and you replied "who's afraid of little old me?"

they laughed it off as a joke but in your mind, you knew they should be.

the news of yours and nico's relationship spread like wildfire amongst the hockey community. adding the birth of your child made people question whether you were on the team for your skill or convenience.

whilst both of you were happy to be open about your relationship, you couldn't help but wonder why your name was the only one being tarnished.

"schatz, i will tell all of them to stop what they are saying. they wouldn't be true fans if they think it is okay to bring one of us down," nico promised one night.

you turned to him and smiled, placing a kiss on his lips. "you don't have to worry. it's not anything new,"

not only was your relationship the talk of the summer, but once the season had started paul bisonette made it his life's mission to make snide remarks about you relationship.

the jokes piled up as you played game after game, until one day you couldn't take it anymore. you sat in your apartment, tears streaming down your face as another joke made its way around the internet.

the devils were playing the rangers and body's were being thrown throughout the whole game. whilst you were a person who wasn't afraid to lay a hit, you steered away from fights.

but as a player from the opposing team chirped in your ear every moment he could, you dropped the gloves landing punch after punch until the referees pulled you apart.

in your post-game interview, a reporter asked what prompted you to start the fight and you answered. "I was tame, I was gentle 'til the circus life made me mean. it was about time I reminded everyone why I'm here,"

yourusername

yourusername: who's afraid of little old me?

no matter what you did, it seemed that the media was out to get you. now people were questioning your abilities as a mother as you continued on with your career.

"nico you tell me everything is not about me, but what if it is? every article about the devils has mentioned me in some and you can stand here and tell me that they didn't do it to hurt me," you screamed.

you came back to the season, feistier than before. showing everyone just how disturbed they made you. starting fights whenever and raking up your penalty minutes.

the older guys in the league (sidney crosby, matt martin and brad marchand) had all expressed their concern for the way you were acting and staged an intervention.

during the all-star break, they cornered you in your home and interrogated you about your behaviour. "we know what it's like to have all this media attention so you don't have to fight this on your own," matt prompted

you shrugged his hands off your shoulder and stood up. "all of you can talk about your difficulties but you wouldn't last an hour in the asylum where they raised me. i'm always drunk on my own tears, isn't that what they all say?" you retorted, referring to your post-game interview where your frustrated tears were addressed by everyone.

as the season came to an end, the devils had clinched a playoff spot and you had been scratched the past five games. your behaviour had changed since your talk with sid, matt martin and brad but the three knew the media's words made a lasting impact on you.

so as the devils faced off against the penguins for the first round and reporters asked if you would play the way you have all season you replied, "I am the way I am because of the media. you all act afraid of me when this the a product of the belittling I received upon coming back,"

#nico hischier x player!reader #saira hischier au #nico hischier x reader #nhl imagines #nhl fanfiction #nicohischierz writes #Spotify

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yan-batgirl · 2 days

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Hii!❤️🖤

This is my first request ever, and sorry if it's not really something you feel like writing, but I really live your writing style and I think that you write the boys the best! (And this thoughts been eating away at my brain for a bit)

So what if the bat's take in a little reader who seems super innocent and she (it doesn't have to be a she if ya don't want) has Deadpool's healing abilities. Like she just casually gets a limb cut off in a fight trying to protect one of the boys and she acts like nothing really is wrong- or she gets shot in the head and sits up a minute later and straight up laughs seeing everyone's sheer panic because she has the same mindset as a gremlin wanting to thrive in the chaos. Do ya think the boys will let her go on missions with them due to her not being able to die? Or will they try (and probably fail) to lock her away in the manor for her own good?

Warnings: Yandere, manipulation, a little bit of blood, accidentally hurting someone, using powers for the wrong people

Spoilers for my original Batgirl story!

After your father was banished and your mother imprisoned, you were now under the roof of the League of Assassins, living with Lady Shiva. Throughout your life, you've been treated like an outcast by basically everyone at that exact area she had to spend your childhood at.

During those times, something felt strange about you.

Whenever one of the assassins came back injured, you curiously stepped forward them and placed your hand onto their wound. The next second, it was gone. The wound.

The next thing happening is you being in the medical bay, in the room full of injured assassins.

One of them told you to touch an injured assassin with a damaged leg. You were hesitant, but you were forced to step forward and place your hand onto the leg. The next second, it was healed.

You were then tested to see what kind of symptoms you have, and the results turned out that you have the ability to heal any kind of injury once you touch it.

Every time when an injured assassin comes back from a job, Shiva would make you stop what you are doing and quickly place your hand on that bloody part of their body, disgusting or not.

However, there are some side effects to your special abilities.

Each time you heal a person, your energy will decrease rapidly, which means you can't heal more and more people.

Eventually, you grew of being used like this. So, you decided to run away.

It was basically a risk of your life, but you eventually made it out of the city of 'Eth Alth'eban and tried to find yourself a new home.

As soon as you landed in Gotham City, you were basically trying to hide yourself from the world. You tried hiding yourself in various abandoned buildings, alleyways, etc.

Until you found a tall figure looming over your crouched form.

"Are you alright?"

The deep voice asks as he reaches out to you, which makes you jolt away and hide behind some trash bags.

However, the figure pulled your small frame out of your hiding spot and held you like an injured kitten.

"It seems that you've been out here for quite a long time. Come on, let me bring you home."

He tells you before he walks off with you, shaking in his arms as he makes a call.

"Alfred, bring everyone back at the manor. We finally found her."

~~~~~

I'm sorry if this was too short!

#yandere #yandere batfam #yandere batfamily #batgirl reader #batfam #batfamily #yandere dc #platonic #yandere platonic #yandere x reader #x child reader

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mslanna · 23 hours

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Maybe something about Raphael reacting to Haarlep reading through his diary/journal (this is why you give your incubus enrichment, folks!) and the incubus pointing out the frequency a certain 'little mouse' seems to be appearing as the subject in his writings? Heck, maybe Haarlep even tries to convince Raphael to let them obtain Tav's form so that the cambion can indulge in his little mouse whenever he wants.

What is says on the bos sfw kinda Read it on AO3

Depleted

"How often did I tell you not to do this?" Raphael plucked his diary from Haarlep's hand.

"As often as you caught me," his personal incubus replied. "Which is way not as often as I did it."

They leant back lasciviously, presenting a world of possibilities their master. As usual, Raphael barely noticed. The cambion was more concerned with the content of his diaries. Well, at least this time Haarlep had refrained from drawing naughty sketches into it.

"You really shouldn't leave them lying about like that. It's clearly an invitation." Not that Raphael would notice an invitation if he saw one. Haarlep dialled back the preening and offering. Such a spoilsport and killjoy.

"It was locked away in my desk," Raphael admonished.

"Yes, exactly where I know it will be," Haarlep purred. "That is not even trying to keep me away."

"I also told you not to touch it." The cambion's voice turned hard.

"You tell me that about so many things." Haarlep rose. He stepped behind his master, laid his chin on Raphael's shoulders and wrapped his arms around his middle. Their tail settled around his ankle, it's tip slipping up the trouser leg. "And yet, I touch everything. A lot."

Raphael slapped their hands away when they moved towards his crotch. Stuck-up snitch. What was this if not the prefect set-up for a little powerplay? If he'd chose more enjoyable sex, Raphael would, well, enjoy it more. Haarlep was sure of that. They were among the best.

"You like it," they purred into the cambion's ear. "And I know what you like best. If only you'd relax enough for an orgasm that's actually worth my services."

"Away," Raphael huffed. He did learn that a 'get off' had a very different effect on his incubus.

Still, Haarlep did not let go. "Are you pent up for a somebody special maybe? My little brat looking at another little thing scurrying through his life?" He nibbled at Raphael's ear. "I have seen them come up often in your diary. So, so often. Are we pining?"

"They are an investment, nothing more," Raphael replied gruff.

But even in the sharp rejection, Haarlep saw that they had hit a nerve. "Invested in them, are we? How nice. Do they know about your intentions? Beyond a deal?"

"There are no-" Raphael broke off because Haarlep bit him into the neck. Gently, but determined. In the moment of distraction, they sent their hands below his waist, circling over the inside of his thighs.

"Are you thinking of them now?" Haarlep purred. "Of their little mortal hands on your hot infernal skin? The earthy smell of the material plane and its deaths. What sweet words do you want to hear? Or do you prefer sounds of devout supplication? You can have all of it. Right now."

"You are not Tav." Raphael jerked free of their embrace. "Nothing you offer is close-"

"Ha! I knew it. I always do." Haarlep clapped. "How delightful. The high and mighty cambion has fallen for a stinky, mortal mousling! Are they close to falling into your trap? Will you bring them here to play?"

Raphael stayed silent. He thumbed through the diary, frowning at the sketches of dancing imps and almost suggestive flora.

"I can help you, you know?" Haarlep wound back around their master. "They don't seem too eager to deal with you. But I? I can get close, close enough to strip them of anything in your way to their heart. I can even take their form. Wouldn't that please you?"

Haarlep slipped their arms back around Raphael. "I can get them for you. Soft hands and mewling mouth and all. For you. Whenever you want. However you want. With the greatest enthusiasm. Think about it, my little brat. All the fun with none of the vulnerability."

Raphael didn't move. A good sign. He was considering it. Still, in the end, he pried them off and left the boudoir with a huff. But it was a start. A morsel to tempt the eternally uptight cambion into actual fun times.

Maybe they'd finally get something to do in this horrible place. Haarlep was used to being somebody else and despite the public displays, Raphael harboured little self-love. Pleasure was to be had efficiently, quickly, like any other business. The bloody idiot kept his lust pent up just to release it before he exploded. When there was so much more fun to be had.

But that little mouse cropping up in every other diary entry – Raphael hadn't been that obsessed since Hope. And she, well, she was a hopeless case.

Haarlep returned to the bed and pulled another of Raphael's diaries out from under a pillow. The cambion should really stop hiding them in place they were certain to find them. They'd see to it that they'd get that little mouse's form for their collection – one way or another. If only to scrounge an ounce of emotion out of Raphael for once.

#bg3 #bg3 raphael #raphael x haarlep #bg3 fanfiction #sleazy second-hand car dealer #anon answered #writing prompt #mel writes fanfic

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bookstantrash · 23 hours

Text

A/N: And I am back in my "Nessian with RED (TV) fic titles" agenda. They are just so RED coded and I had been dying to write something related to this album it is one of my fav albums of TS tbf.

This one shot is more Cassian centric, and it is also a type of fanfic I had been meaning to write for the longest times. I just feel like the fandom overall forgets that Cassian has a lot of trauma and insecurities, and I wish we saw more of that.

Come morning light, you and I'll be safe and sound

Nightmares were not unusual to Cassian. He had them for as long as he could remember.

He had them when he was a mere child living on the outskirts of Windhaven, blowing on his hands to try and keep himself warm.

Had them when he was a young warrior, taking part in the Blood Rite, fighting his way to find his brothers alive.

Had them when he took part in the First War and saw deaths far more gruesome than what he had experienced at the Blood Rite.

Had them pile up after each war, each battle he took part in. Dreamt about his soldiers dying, about having to give their families the news and be met with sadness, anger and resentment. That they were gone and would never return. That while they had died he, a mere bastard born nobody, an orphan, had not.

He grew used to nightmares. Usually he would wake up with silent tears and a sense of regret and failure over his heart, spending the rest of the night awake, going over reports. Those were the good nights.

And on those rare times when his mind was particularly evil and wanted to punish him deeply, on those nights he would wake up with his heart racing, the urge to throw up taking him out of his bed to leave him retching over the toilet, the need to scream at anyone and everyone consuming him. To scream in anger and despair. Those were the bad nights, the ones who made him go to the training ring and rip the punching bags, made him stay there until the sun was rising and he would pass out with tiredness, no dreams, good or bad appearing for him.

He was so used to his nightmares that he knew what to expect, knew how to recognise when it would be a bad or good night.

And then he met Nesta and his nightmares changed.

Now he dreamt of his failures with her. Not being able to stop her from being thrown into the Cauldron, not protecting her from Hybern during the War, not helping her heal sooner after the war, letting her be kidnapped again and thrown in the Blood Rite.

Nothing could have prepared him for those nightmares, nightmares that got worse after they finally got together.

Because finally being able to be with the love of his life, his Nesta, his wife and mate… that made him incredibly afraid. Afraid that the happiness he had never felt before would be stolen from him, leaving him empty, a sad and lonely youngling in the bitter snow all over again.

The first time Cassian had a nightmare after he and Nesta had wed, he had woken up in a cold sweat, heart beating so loudly on his ears that for a second he thought he was hearing the Illyrian war drums. He had dreamt of the night she had been Made, of dragging himself over the cold floor of Hybern’s throne room, the pain of his shredded and bloody wings almost non-existent at the face of Nesta’s despair. At her screams of rage as she was dragged under the cold dark waters of the Cauldron.

He had only calmed down when he realised Nesta was safely sleeping beside him, arms around him tightening and her sleepily mumbling at him.

“Where are you going?”

Cassian had considered untangling himself from his wife’s warm embrace and going over some leftover documents, silently keeping watch over her. But one look at her sleeping face had his resolve weakening.

“Nowhere, Nes” he had settled beside her, dropping a kiss on her forehead “Go back to sleep”

Whenever Cassian had a nightmare, he would try his best to not wake up Nesta. He did not want to bother her with his worries and fears. And somehow the Mother must have taken pity on him, because he was scarcely having any bad nights since they'd gotten married. Sure, he still had nightmares, but those made him want to rip his own heart out had stopped.

He took that as a small blessing. He would take the good nights over no dreams if that meant that the unbearable nightmares would be kept at bay.

However, Nesta was not oblivious that something preyed on her husband’s mind. She had noticed how worn out he was, how when he smiled at her and said nothing was wrong his smile did not reach his eyes.

But Nesta wanted Cassian himself to tell her what was happening. Wanted him to open his heart about what was making the circles beneath his eyes darker with each passing day without her having to dig it out of him. He had told her months ago during that hike at Illyria that she could be silent and he would be waiting for her to open up when she felt comfortable, as long as she did not shut him out. Now Nesta would do the same. She would wait beside him, offering her support however she could until he was ready to talk.

“You are unusually quiet today,” Nesta noted. They were resting on the sofa in front of the fireplace — Nesta reading a book and Cassian lying down, his head on her lap — having a quiet late evening after the training session with the Valkyries in the morning.

“Missing the sound of my lovely voice, Nes? Should I read out loud a paragraph from your book?” Cassian teased, opening an eye. He had slept poorly the night before, and the quiet sound of the embers crackling on the fireplace and his mate absentmindedly running her free hand through his hair had him battling sleep.

“No,” she closed her book, “it was merely an observation.”

Cassian closed his eyes again, smiling softly.

“Are you sure? I am certain the House would love to hear all about your newest smutty book”

The faelights flicked twice, as if agreeing with him.

“Oh hush now, you can read it after I am done with it. ” Nesta said, glaring at the ceiling “I never knew a sentient being more impatient”

Cassian laughed. At first he had been surprised when Nesta talked to the House, but he had grown used to it, even talking to It on more than one occasion.

“Do you want to move to our room?” Nesta asked, gently running her hands through his hair “it is more comfortable than the couch”

Cassian merely sighed “No, I am very comfortable like this” he turned on his side, arms circling her waist and wings dropping a little on the floor “I am afraid I will keep you hostage while I nap.”

Whatever Nesta meant to say was lost when she noticed how his breath had eased, her mate having already fallen asleep. And before she could even ask, the House flicked off the faelights, drawing shut the curtains of the room they had turned into their living room.

“Thank you,” Nesta found it quite endearing how the House had grown to care about Cassian as much as It cared about her. In the beginning, It liked to play pranks on him and even sided with Nesta whenever she and Cassian had an argument — once It locked Cassian outside and only let him in when he apologised. Over time, however, they had formed a rather close friendship.

Nesta opened her book again, turning on the small faelight that Azriel had gifted her on Solstice. She had just gotten to the juicy part and she knew that little light would not wake Cassian any time soon if the way he was softly breathing was any indication of how deeply he was sleeping.

She had read half of the book when she felt an uneasy feeling through the bond. She looked down at Cassian and saw his breathing getting uneven, his arms tightening around her waist.

“Cass?” Nesta whispered softly, setting her book aside. She could feel his fear and anguish through the bond, and it pained her that she could do nothing to ease his pain.

Cassian whimpered, and although Nesta knew better than to wake up someone having a nightmare, she could not stand to see him in such pain.

“Cassian, wake up, please” she tugged on her end of the bond, her hands cupping his face. He woke up gasping, hazel eyes huge and scared.

“A bucket,” he managed to say as he scrambled up, his breathing erratic “I need—”

No sooner had the House made a bucket appear than Cassian was on his knees, emptying his stomach. Nesta kneeled beside him, holding his hair back and rubbing his back.

“It is okay, everything is fine now” she said softly.

The House made a glass of water and a towel appear, Nesta thanking It quietly. Cassian had closed his eyes, breathing as if he had just learned how to.

“Hey,” she grabbed his face “open your eyes Cass.”

His hands came up, grabbing her wrists like he was wandering at the sea and she was his lifeline.

“That is it, just look at me” she said softly yet firmly, his scared hazel eyes meeting her blue-grey ones “Breath, Cassian.”

Nesta took a deep breath, holding it in for a few seconds before letting it go slowly. Cassian copied her, and after a few minutes his breathing had become normal again, his racing heart also slowing down.

“I am sorry,” that was the first thing he said, voice hoarse “I did not want you to see me like this”

“Nonsense,” Nesta dismissed, giving him the glass of water and making him drink it “you have seen me in much worse conditions”

“Are you ready to tell me what is going on?” she asked.

Cassian nodded his head, biding his time by taking another sip of water and using the towel to clean his mouth.

“For as long as I could remember I’ve had nightmares,” he began “There are the good nightmares and bad nightmares. The good ones usually wake me and leave me with a feeling of failure.”

Nesta remembered the nights in which she would wake up to an empty bed, Cassian going over reports — she would sit on his lap and give remarks as he went over them — or just standing on their balcony. On those nights she would go over to him and bring him back to bed.

“I am cold” she would say, and he would hug her tightly and Nesta would let him think that she did not notice how he needed the hug more than she did.

She could always feel his sadness through the bond, no matter how hard he tried to close his end of that golden thread that binds them together so intrinsically.

“And the bad ones?” Nesta quietly asked.

“The bad ones leave me like this,” he said with a self deprecating laugh “A complete and utter mess, barely functioning.”

“You have been sleeping poorly for a while now. Why didn’t you talk to me?” Cassian must have seen the hurt on her eyes, felt it through the bond, because he grabbed her hands, squeezing them.

“I am not good with words, I am sure you have noticed that,” he smiled weakly “I wish I was half as eloquent as you are.”

“You managed just fine in our wedding” she said with an arched eyebrow, and that got a real laugh out of him.

“I was inspired that day, I will admit.” he got serious again “But I think that maybe spending a lot of time being alone and angry did not help with my inability to find the right words to express what I am feeling. And to share my problems with others.”

Nesta had noticed this particular trait of Cassian, especially after she had stopped keeping him at arms lengths and had finally allowed herself to admit what she felt for him. He loved his family deeply, would put himself at risk for others in a heartbeat, would always have a happy face and joke to lighten the mood.

He cared for and about everyone, but what about him? Who did the same to him?

Nesta wanted to be the one with whom he could discard his happy mask and show a range of emotions.

“You can always talk to me Cassian,” she said “Anytime, no matter what.”

“I don't want to burden you. You already went through so much that to further worry you with something as silly as a nightmare—”

“I cannot believe you are saying this,” Nesta said, and Cassian could feel her anger and disappointment through the bond “You could never burden me and for you to even suggest otherwise—”

“I am your wife, Cassian. Your mate. If I don’t care and worry about you, who will?” she continued after taking a deep breath to calm herself “Besides, it is not a silly nightmare if it affected you this way”

Cassian stayed a few minutes quiet, mindlessly playing with her wedding band, brows furrowed in concentration.

“Another reason I was hesitant to talk to you about the nightmares is because— because now I have nightmares about you, Nes” he avoided her eyes while he talked, still focused on her hands “The good nightmares are the ones about my failures with you. Not stopping Hybern, not helping you sooner…”

Nesta’s heart almost broke when he said that. How could he think that about himself when he had been the one to tell her months ago when they visited the old shabby cottage she had lived with her family in poverty that there was nothing she could have done to stop Hybern and save her father?

“And the bad?” she asked, wishing he would look at her.

“The bad ones are about you dying in my arms. About you realising I am nothing more than a bastard born nobody, who is not deserving of even the air you breathe and then leaving to go travel the world, to marry a king from the continent or from other fae lands.” his voice got quieter, almost a whisper, as if he was afraid of telling her what he saw on those nights “Of you simply leaving me and never looking back.”

“Tonight— tonight was a bad one,” he finally looked at her and his face was so utterly wrecked with pain and desperation that Nesta wanted to tell him that she would stop his nightmares, that she would bargain with the Mother and even that blasted Cauldron to leave him alone.

“I dreamt that when Briallyn ordered me to kill I could not turn the knife on myself. So I killed you. And she got the Mask and kept reviving you so I had to kill you over and over and over again” silent tears started running down his face and her heart truly shattered.

She hugged him tight, Cassian burying his head on her shoulder.

“Shh xe nhia, I am here,” Nesta knew a few words in Illyrian, and she hoped that the use of them, the familiarity that they brought, would help Cassian “I am not leaving you. Not now and not ever”

“However, if you keep trying to spoil my books I might become Ems’ newest house mate” she joked, making Cassian laugh.

“I would be completely lost without you Nes,” he said with a weak smile.

“I know,” she tenderly brushed his cheeks, drying his tears “Promise me something?”

“Anything you desire”

“Promise me you will wake me up when you have another nightmare, be it ‘good’ or ‘bad’. Promise me you will talk to me and let me be beside you when you are in need.” she pleaded.

“I promise” Cassian kissed her cheek, gathering her in his arms and walking towards their bedroom. Reluctantly setting her down, he went to their bathroom to freshen up while Nesta changed out of her dress.

Cassian walked back in to find her wearing one his favourite sweaters.

“I had been looking for that sweater”

“You were? Funny how it ended up in my drawer. Maybe the House put it there by mistake” Nesta shrugged, knowing very well that she had been the one to steal it. She was constantly stealing Cassian’s clothes.

“You do look better on it than me, so I think I can forgive that small mishap” he said, getting under the covers and hugging Nesta close.

“I love you, Nes” he whispered in her ear “And thank you”

“I love you too, Cass,” she replied, snuggling closer to him.

And that night, for the first time in a long while, Cassian had no nightmares.

•

tag list: @sayosdreams @perseusannabeth @arinbelle @letstakethedawn @katekatpattywack @nestaarcheron @imagine-me @sv0430 @starryblueskies7 @live-the-fangirl-life @valkyriewarriors @readskk @wannawriteyouabook @imwritingthesewords @rainbowcheetah512 @moodymelanist @castielspelvis

[Reblogs/likes/comments are always welcomed!!]

#nessian #nesta x cassian #nesta archeron #cassian #acosf #a court of silver flames #post acosf #post a court of silver flames #sarah j maas #sjmaas #acotar

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elllisaaa · 4 hours

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loved the bf!beomgyu!!! <3 could you perhaps do bf!taehyun as well? :)

the bf!txt agenda is not doing any good for my delulu hours but here we go !!

BF!TAEHYUN who is not the most talkative, but that is the most caring and observant boyfriend ever.

for example, he knows exactly what your coffee order is, he knows what your favourite snacks are, and he knows which song from your long ass playlist on spotify is your favourite. and these are things you don't even have to tell him, just because he always has an eye on you, and because he wants you to feel like a princess. and that's how taehyun makes you feel everyday. whenever you need something, bet he would hand you his card so you can pay for it. and don't even think about paying something for yourself or the both of you when you two are going out. but that's just because he wants to treat you like the queen you are.

"oh and i left my card for you on the kitchen counter, since you're going out with your friends this afternoon. i know you will do some shopping so get yourself something nice for our date tonight angel."

even if you don't workout, taehyun will bring you to the gym with him. he doesn't need you to do anything else than be there for him. it's maybe not what some would call quality time, but it is for both of you, especially when his schedule is so packed. he steals some kisses between his sets, lets you vent to him about your annoying coworkers, and smiles everytime you take his towel to wipe the sweat from his forehead. and yes, he also loves it when you gush over his muscles and how strong he is. he's often the one praising you, and when you compliment him, he always finds a way to turn it back and fluster you. so sometimes, you make it your life mission to make him blush instead. and he lets you do so because you have him wrapped around your finger.

"you're very pretty today angel." - "but you're prettier tae, the prettiest boy in the world." - "what did i do to deserve you ?"

you know that your boyfriend sometimes struggles to talk about his emotions and feelings, and you're always here for him no matter what. but when he finally opens up to you, he's never backing up. everytime he feels bad or tired we would've kept it to himself and stayed alone before. but now, after a long day at work, all he wants is to come back home to you and hold you close to him. sometimes he needs to tell you everything that happened, and sometimes he just needs you to soothe him into your embrace. either way, he feels the most at ease, the most loved when he's close to you. in the mornings after these nights, he wakes up before you to make you breakfast as a thank you, even if you insist that he doesn't need to and that it's your job as his girlfriend. but the princess treatment never ends with taehyun, and he will never take you for granted.

"just eat angel, i did it because i wanted to and because i love you."

BF!TAEHYUN who pays for everything just so he can literally ruin you for any other men when you come back home.

because the reason he let you borrow his card to pay for your hair, your nails and your clothes, has some ulterior motives. he loves it when you're all dolled up for him, when you take up so much time to look even better than usual for him. he especially loves it when you're wearing skirts or dresses, because it gives him an easier access for when he bends you over the couch and fucks you from behind. he loves it when your makeup runs down your face because you're crying from how good he's making you feel. taehyun loves it when your hair are all tangled and messy because he's tugging on them when you're sucking on his cock. and he loves it when he sees the scratching marks your brand new nails he payed for had left on his back.

"that's it princess, cry for me. feels good ? i know it does."

taehyun is always willing to give you everything you want in bed, as long as you're good for him and doing everything he's telling you to. one of his favourite ways to torture you a little is by edging you. you can choose how he's pleasing you - his mouth, fingers or cock, whatever you want, he'll give it to you - but you have to warn him every time you're close, and he'll stop. and when he finally lets you cum, he's telling how proud of you he is, how good you are for him, and how good he's gonna fuck you as a reward. and he does fucks you good, so good you're going dumb and can only whine and cry out for him.

"my good girl, i'm gonna take care of you, hm ? gonna reward my angel."

but when you're not following his orders, or when you decide to be a brat and act out, he has no other choice but to discipline you, right ? his go to punishment is to bend you over his lap and spank you. taehyun makes you count each slap he gives you, finding it cute how red the skin of your ass gets with each new one. he loves it when you stumble over your words, moaning and crying out when he slaps your butt one more time. each time, you take your punishment so well he cannot do anything else than rewarding you with his cock, because after all, you're his princess and he just wants to give you the best. and obviously, he loves it when you're all cute and innocent, but the best moment is when you become nasty and desperate for him and he gets to lovingly degrade you.

"my pretty little slut, acting like a saint and whoring yourself out for my cock."

#eli answering your questions #eli's anonie #txt hard hours #txt hard thoughts #txt smut #taehyun smut #taehyun hard thoughts #taehyun hard hours #taehyun x reader

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talkfantasytome · 14 hours

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Glasses

A teeny, tiny drabble so that I could participate and do something for @nestaarcheronweek despite my crazy, hectic life. I've always imagined that Nesta wears glasses for work or reading or something, and that it drives Cassian absolutely nuts. I wish I had more time to make this more, maybe some day, but for now, I give you Cassian appreciating Nesta in glasses. 💕

Am I still good to swing by to bring your key back?

Yep! Working from home and have no more meetings today. Come by whenever you want, no need to knock.

Cassian smiled at the words flashing across his screen as he reached the windowed door that revealed the doors to the two apartments in Nesta's converted townhouse. Nesta had already told him twice that he could come by any time after noon today, but he let his nerves get the better of him and he had to check just one last time. Even if he was already on her street.

"How are you already here?" the silky sharp voice of his girlfriend asked, carrying easily down the stairs as he opened the door to her apartment.

Cassian chuckled, closing the door and locking it behind him. "Couldn't get to you fast enough, sweetheart," he called up as he began to climb. It was a steep staircase. And dark. He hated it. Nesta could really hurt herself on it, and that was something he wouldn't be able to handle. Cassian dreaded the day he got a call telling him she'd fallen down these damn stairs.

Reaching the main floor, he set the keys down on the tall table in front of him just as a large, cream furball let out a loud hiss.

"Even after feeding you for a week, you still hate me?" he muttered, bending down to see if Ataraxia would sniff at his fingers. The furry little beast lifted his nose up and sauntered away from Cassian like a little prince. "Your cat is a spoiled brat," he said, walking down the small hall toward where he knew Nesta would be working in her large living room.

"As he should be," she replied.

Cassian walked into the room and suddenly the world felt lighter as he laid his eyes on his girlfriend for the first time in a week. Staring intently at the computer screens in front of her, all he could really see was her delicate frame and the golden brown hair tied back in her typical coronet style.

He took a step toward her, going to give her a quick kiss on the cheek, and then paused in his tracks as Nesta turned in her chair to look at him.

There, resting on top of her perfect nose, was a pair of rounded-square glasses in a dark frame. They weren't exactly hipster glasses - too small for that - but they were a similar shape that sat perfectly in Nesta's face.

Nesta was always the most beautiful woman in the room, always sharp and stunning and obviously intelligent. So Casssian wasn't sure exactly what it was about these glasses, but they took his breath away. Perhaps he was more attracted to librarians than he realized. Or maybe it was just Nesta, looking absolutely stunning in everything, and adding new fantasies about glasses Cassian never thought he'd desire.

"Wh…what are those?" he asked like an idiot, pointing to her face.

Nesta let out a small laugh. "My glasses? I wear them for work. They're just blue-light lenses, they keep me from getting a headache when staring at a screen for a long time."

"They're-"

"A necessary nuisance."

"-phenomenal." Nesta blushed at Cassian's last word, turning back to the computer screen.

Cassian wanted to riot, just as he always did when Nesta looked away from him. It should be illegal, for him not to be able to look upon her face. But especially now. Who knew wen he'd get to see her in glasses again? He needed to find a way to save himself from this withdrawal, and he knew just the thing. "Don't you get a lunch hour?" he asked softly, stepping closer to Nesta and leaning his chin on her shoulder.

"Yes…" she answered slowly, turning her face to look at him.

He grinned. "Great. So why don't you log off but keep those glasses on and join me in the bedroom?"

Before Nesta could answer, Cassian left a kiss on her neck and sauntered to the back of the apartment, smirking as her heard soft footsteps following him.

#nessian #nesta archeron #nesta x cassian #cassian #just fluff #fluff #acotar #a court of thorns and roses

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rottenpumpkin13 · 2 days

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How would Sephiroth feel if Cloud was related to him?

Assuming this is an AU scenario where Hojo is Cloud's biological father. He found Claudia "attractive enough to birth a hero," but it never went anywhere because Cloud was a weak, sickly baby.

Sephiroth found out about Cloud's parentage when he came across a file on him in Hojo's archives.

Sephiroth can't leave Cloud alone now. He has a brother.

He's always lurking now when the troopers have their training sessions with Angeal, or looking just a bit too long whenever they happen to be on the same assignment.

He's always watching, letting the curiosity slowly consume him. He wants to know what Cloud's life was like growing up in the mountains, far away from Hojo and Shinra, with a mother who loves him. He's envious, wondering if his own life would've been any different if Hojo rejected him at birth. Cloud wasn't subjected to the same things he was, and Sephiroth is both grateful and bitter.

As envious as he is, he's also enraged. How dare Hojo rob him of his brother? His own family? They were supposed to grow up together, to be by each other's side through everything. They were This isn't fair. And now here Cloud is, working for Shinra too. Yet they're still apart.

So he makes the impulse decision to corner Cloud one morning and show him everything that he found. Imagine his shock when Cloud reveals he knew Professor Hojo was his biological father, but his mother warned him of how he was, making Cloud never want anything to do with him.

Sephiroth asks him if he's aware that Hojo is his biological father.

To say Cloud is shocked is putting it lightly. He's floored, but not because Sephiroth is Hojo's son, but because he's related to Sephiroth.

After a long talk where they both get to know each other better and establish that they're brothers no matter what, Cloud insists that Sephiroth come back to Nibelheim and meet Claudia.

Lucky for them, there's a certain mission to Nibelheim that makes for a perfect opportunity.

While Cloud is usually prone to motion-sickness, be barely feels it on the ride to Nibelheim. He's too busy talking and laughing with Sephiroth to notice the bumps and turns on the road that would usually make his stomach churn.

Zack is happy for both of them—Cloud, for having a brother, and Sephiroth for having any family at all. They've been inseparable since finding out they're related, with Sephiroth going as far as inviting Cloud to stay over at his place and giving Cloud expressed permission to stay in his apartment.

Claudia and Sephiroth meet as soon as they arrive. Sephiroth grows to like her immediately. She's warm, nurturing, and quick to treat Sephiroth with the care he was denied as a child.

He asks Claudia if there's any chance that she knew his mother, Jenova. Claudia mentions how she remembers seeing a woman that matched her description around the village a few times years ago.

Now that Sephiroth knows he wasn't crazy when he found Nibelheim familiar, he needs to know more.

She explains how Hojo and the entirety of Shinra's research team stayed at the old Shinra Mansion right outside the village. She directs him there if he wants to find more information.

Sephiroth neglects sleep that evening in favor of exploring the Shinra mansion in search of clues. Cloud insists on coming with him, but Sephiroth is adamant that he stay and prepare for their mission the next day.

Sephiroth heads for the Shinra mansion, where he finds the library.

In the end, not even Cloud can stop the inevitable. No matter how much he screams and begs and tries to reason with his justifiably enraged brother.

But brotherhood matters little when you're the holy son, the chosen one set to inherit the planet alongside your loving mother.

#ff7 #ffvii #final fantasy 7 #sephiroth #final fantasy vii #ffvii crisis core #ff7 crisis core #cloud strife #au

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buzzkillchainsaw · 1 day

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⚠️ addiction, child abuse/neglect, death

Takumi Hoga was twelve years old when he first entered the ring. What else was he to do, really? He had just found out that he would be held back another grade again. Usually kids like him would hear the same old "You're not stupid, you're just lazy" speech over and over again, but not Takumi. He knew what the teachers thought of him. The current ones, that is. The teachers at the last two schools he was expelled from were probably relieved to never waste another thought on him again, after what he did. Bit a child here, broke a bone there. Bruises. Bloody noses. "Beast types", teachers would sneer whenever Takumi caused another "incident". Other than that, nobody paid much attention to him, even in class. You see, Takumi was born with abnormally large and abnormally many teeth very similar to a shark's. Whenever he opened his mouth to say something, teachers and students alike would cringe at his impeded speech, the latter even making fun of it in front of the former. So Takumi just stopped speaking altogether. His grades steadily worsened. His job prospects looked bleaker and bleaker each year. His parents didn't care. His mother was busy with drugs and whatever affair she had going on currently and his father often left for "work" for days at a time, leaving his son to fend for himself more often than not. There was nothing in his life that could've prevented Takumi from entering the ring.

On that fateful day after school Takumi was prowling the streets, homework and upcoming tests being the last thing on his mind. Some kid, a few years older than him, approached him. A fellow "beast", with sharp teeth and blue scales on his skin. He was wearing a cool leather jacket and expensive sunglasses. Takumi liked them.

"Hey, buddy. You look bored.", the guy said.

Takumi nodded. He was bored.

"I know a place where kids like us can have fun and earn cash on the side. Interested?"

"Like a job?", Takumi asked.

"Yeah, but more fun.", the guy answered.

Takumi was unsure. His teacher had told him that he'd never have a good job with his lousy grades and long attack record. "No respectable company will want to hire a beast like you.", she said. So how come this guy now wanted him for a job? And a "fun" one, at that?

"What do I have to do?", Takumi asked.

Everything moved quickly after that. The guy introduced him to "the boss", a man in his thirties who loved expensive food and loud cars. He even let Takumi sit on the passenger seat and choose the music they listened to on their drive to the ring. When they arrived, Takumi was handed a simple white shirt and shorts which reminded him of the clothes he had to wear in gym class. "Now all you gotta do", the boss said, "is beat up this guy over there." Another beast was in the ring, not much older than Takumi. He waved towards the excited crowd beyond the cage that surrounded the ring.

"Beat him up?", Takumi asked, "I'm allowed to do that?"

"Yeah. Beat him, scratch him, bite him, do whatever you want until he taps out or you hear the alarm."

"What if I have to tap out first?", Takumi asked. The boss grinned and handed him a tiny plastic bag with some powder inside. "I don't think you will."

The guy from before didn't lie: This was fun. Takumi didn't even break a sweat during his first fight, knocking the guy out cold. The second fight was against an older girl who transformed into a wolf, Takumi grabbed her nape with his teeth and shook her until she tapped out. At the end of the evening the boss gave him his payment and drove him back. He handed the boy a phone and said he'd text him if he had another fight for him lined up. Takumi stuffed the phone and the money in his pockets and went to buy himself a leather jacket and sunglasses.

Takumi Hoga was thirteen years old when he adopted the stage name "Armageddon". The boss had turned him into a rising star in the local business. Bets were made on whether Armageddon won or lost the fight and the boss always gave him a cut of the winnings which Takumi would spend on food, video games and clothes. Sponsors would sometimes pay him directly to write messages and contact details on his white shirt in permanent marker, displaying them in the ring for all to see. After the fight, the boss would get him cleaned up and drive him home. Takumi then spent the next day eagerly awaiting a message from the boss. On nights without fights Takumi felt horrible, writhing around in his bed, sweating bullets and sometimes even throwing up. But as soon as a new fight came up and Takumi got his hands on that powder the boss always gave him beforehand, the world was alright again. He felt light but focused at the same time, fearless, excited and full of energy. He had finally found something he was good at. And he loved doing it.

Takumi Hoga was fourteen years old when he almost died in the ring. The boss didn’t tell him beforehand that the reptile-looking beast he was about to fight had venom. Armageddon knocked out his opponent, but then sunk to the floor, foaming at the mouth, breathing raspily. “This wouldn’t have happened if you just killed the fucker before he bit you”, the boss hissed into his ear. After some back and forth the manager of the reptile guy decided to hand over some antivenom. Even with that, Takumi felt horrible for days afterwards, unable to move the bitten arm. But when the boss texted him again the week after, he jumped at the opportunity to get back in the ring.

Takumi Hoga was fifteen years old when he fought his first adult opponent in the ring. He was hesitant, but the boss said that nobody wanted to pay to see Armageddon wipe the floor with boring ol' kids who couldn't even fight back. "There's just no money in it", the boss said, "and you wanna keep making money, don't you?" When Armageddon entered the ring, he saw a young man in front of him. Some kind of fish beast with claws and glowing spots on his skin. "Please", the man whispered, "I have debts. I need to get out of here. Please just forfeit, I need the money. I really need it." Armageddon shook his head. "Please", the man said, "Don't hurt me." Armageddon was fifteen years old when he took his first life in the ring.

Armageddon was sixteen years old when he first tried to leave the business. He kept having nightmares about the man he killed and the side effects of the powder started getting to him. But he craved it more and more and that tiny little packet the boss always gave him just didn't cut it anymore. He would've just bought himself more if he knew what it was. The boss wouldn't tell him. So one day, Armageddon stopped answering texts from the boss. He prowled the streets instead, picking fights, doing anything to distract from the withdrawal symptoms plaguing him. Eventually, he collapsed on the street and woke up again in the hospital. Police were called, his parents were called, social services were called. Lots of big words were thrown around that he didn't understand. Negligence. Addiction. Custody. Takumi Hoga was sixteen years old when he was removed from his parents and placed in temporary care with social services. But he didn't stay there very long. They wanted him to go to rehab, anger management classes, school. They took his phone and his hard earned money and placed him on a strict schedule with an early curfew. And Takumi tried. He really did. But he just couldn't live the life everyone else was expecting of him. Takumi Hoga was sixteen years old when he escaped back to the only life he knew how to live well.

Armageddon was seventeen years old when he fought “Razortooth”, a masked volunteer from the crowd. It was a rare occasion. Usually the boss decided who would fight him and the fights would be advertised in the business days in advance. Sometimes the book would drive him to private fights in some rich guy’s basement where Armageddon would fight and kill exotic animals, other beast-types or just random people who probably wronged that rich guy somehow. But tonight was open cage night in the ring, so whichever brave soul thought they could kick Armageddon’s ass was allowed to. Razortooth was a green-skinned beast wearing a short-sleeved hoodie and a ski mask. Armageddon immediately noticed that she fought wildly different from what he was used to. When you spend a lot of time in the ring, you tend to adopt a certain style. Flashy. Violent. Ruthless. But Razortooth didn’t seem to be here for the show. She dodged a left hook and rushed him, wrapping an arm around his neck.

“Hey”, she whispered into his ear as he struggled to get free.

“Hey”, he whispered back. He then punched her in the back, but the angle was weird, so it didn’t hit as hard.

“You want out?”, she whispered and shifted her weight, letting him stumble backwards towards her leg and kicking him in the back of his knee.

“I can’t”, he whispered back.

“He’s got you on Flick? That powder?”

“Yeah. Powder.”

“Alright. Sink to the floor and punch me in the kidney.”, she whispered.

“Why?”

“I’ll slip you my number and then I’ll forfeit.”

“Why?”

“I wanna help you get out.”

So Armageddon sank to the floor, then used her lowered defense to punch her. He then grabbed her and pushed her against the cage wall. Her arms flew up and he noticed something brushing against the pockets of his shorts. Razortooth forfeited.

Takumi Hoga was eighteen years old when he joined the Purpose Program. It was a long back and forth with Hitomi, the beast who had fought him in the ring under the name “Razortooth”. He thought about calling her for weeks after the fight, but something always came up. When he finally did, he didn’t expect her to be actually serious about helping him. But she was. They met up in secret and just talked for a bit.

“Are you a cop?”, he asked.

“No.”, she said, “Cops won’t help much in a situation like this.” Takumi nodded.

It felt great to talk about all this to someone. Hitomi never judged him, even when he talked about how he enjoyed hurting people in the ring. Or when he told her how he once woke up almost choking on his own vomit the night after a big fight (and big dosage of Flick). She showed him where to get Flick so he wasn’t dependent on the boss for it anymore. But she also told him what the drug actually did to his body, how he was cutting his life short if he continued consuming it. Takumi didn’t wanna die. But he also didn’t know what to do with his life if it wasn’t in the ring. Hitomi then offered to go get him tested, no strings attached. Takumi remembered how he did get tested once in elementary school, but not much was revealed there besides “big teeth” and “stronger than his peers”. The tests of the Purpose Program were different, though. It really felt like the scientists were interested in him, in what he could do. Apparently he was able to breathe underwater all this time, it just required a little surgery to open the gills in his neck. The first time he dove into the pool at the research center was heavenly, it was like he had discovered a piece of himself that was always hidden away from him. He was also strong, which he already knew, and had a lot of endurance. And the cherry on top was his excellent sense of smell underwater. He could locate a drop of blood on the other side of the pool while blindfolded.

“Water rescue” was the verdict. A job. For him.

He didn’t take it. He was scared. He relapsed multiple times, going back to the ring on nights where his mind just wouldn’t stop racing. But instead of the boss, it was Hitomi who picked him up. “Recovery isn’t linear”, she’d say. “But if you wanna enter the program, you gotta commit, Takumi.”

“I don’t wanna be Takumi anymore.”, he said, “But I also don’t wanna be Armageddon.”

“So who do you wanna be?”, she asked.

#buzzkill mirai #tw addiction #tw child abuse #tw death #oc #oc lore #worldbuilding

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litnerdwrites · 2 days

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"We don't treat Elain and Nesta the same because Elain Apologised,"

Elain and Nesta aren't the same people. They can't be compared. While I understand that Nesta said some cruel things in that cabin, so did Feyre. While Nesta could've made things a bit easier on all of them, so could Feyre. They both have reasons to apologise to one another, so if you're going to condemn Nesta for not doing so, then Feyre deserves the same treatment.

But if Nesta did want to apologise, what makes you think it would be the second that Feyre got back? And in front of fae, no less. Nesta is complicated character who carries herself with pride and is considered a very private person, and is described as being queen like multiple times. The two have more issues to work through than just a few mean comments, and the moments they have the most sincere heart to hearts, are when they're alone. Without Rhysand peering from behind a door way, listening in and commentating whenever he feels like.

Looking back, in ACOTAR 1, we learn some of the myths humans tell about the Fae including that they can't lie, and they have to and that if you catch one, then it has to tell you what you want to know. Both of those turn out to be false, since fae can lie, and Ianthe caught the Surreal, but we learn in ACOWAR that it wouldn't tell her anything.

We can assume this means that the rules the fae follow in our mythology are the same ones that humans believe about fae in ACOTAR, meaning it's a fair assumption that one of the many stories about fae include never letting yourself be indebted to them. Saying things like 'thank you' or 'I'm sorry' comes across like as owing them something, and Nesta is, at this point, under the impression that doing so will cause the fae to hold it over her head and use to demand things of her for as long as she lives, if not ask something straight up impossible to make her more indebted to them.

On top of that, Feyre just asked her for a favour that could get her and Elain killed. The Mortal Queens could've just decided to have Elain and Nesta arrested and executed for collaborating with fae, or have them exiled even. It wasn't a small thing that Feyre asked for, and basically peer pressured her into, with Elain. So it's understandable that pleasantries and apologies are the last things on her mind, when her and Elain's life could be forfeit at any moment.

Even if Rhysand offers to protect them, what could he do? Nesta's under the impression that the Fae hate humans, look down on them and would treat them horribly if she crossed into their lands. Moreover, she has a whole life there, that they're suggesting she could drop to move to the other end of the country without so much as a message to their father? Or an idea of what's waiting for them? To abandon their home, friends, family and peoeple?

For what? Potential servitude? Amongst creatures she were taught were slave driving monsters? To live under her little sister's rule (cause even if she wasn't HL at this point, as fae, she has significant power over Nesta. Plus the ruler of said land they're offering to take her too openly favours Feyre, and kind of Elain but hates her, so she'd basically still be living by Feyre's whims) for the rest of her short life? Literally what part of that is appealing?

So Nesta not apologising to Feyre at that dinner, makes sense. Our girl had bigger things to worry about. She probably would have if she Feyre didn't outright abandon her to deal with her trauma alone, only showing up when she wanted to parade Nesta around at parties for her own joy, without considering how it feels to her. Or when her court, who don't like her and whom she doesn't like either, show up to insult her, and blame her for having trauma.

If Feyre and Nesta had more moments like the one in the library, or the one all three had after Az and Feyre rescued Elain, Nesta would've likely healed and apologised on her own. If the IC had just stayed out of it, then all three sisters would've figured things out, on their own. The IC just want something to complain about, so like the CON and the HC, they make a problem, and they complain that it exists.

Also, if I remember right, Feyre herself said she wanted to start over at that dinner. So unless Feyre or Nesta want to bring it up or talk about it, why does any of her family get to hold it over her head for the rest of immortality? Feyre literally just called it water under the bridge and all three of them were going through their own shit at the time, so let them actually work through their own issues privately, and I'll bet that they'll solve it on their own within a year.

#anti inner circle #anti rhysand #anti acosf #pro nesta #nesta deserves better #anti ic #pro nesta archeron #anti amren #anti mor #nesta acotar #nesta archeron deserves better #acosf #The IC need to learn to mind their own business #101 problems could be soled if they all kept their own forked tongues behind their teeth #They are literally the ones causing problems.

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oxpogues4lifexo · 7 hours

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Full Kook - Part 1

A Protective/Sweet/Obsessive/Possessive!Rafe&JJ Fanfic

Warnings: Mentions of drugs, Alcohol, Language, SA, Abuse, Sex. Anything I missed Lmk.

Word count: 1765

Summary of Part 1: Introduction of the main three characters, told by the one and only JJ Maybank.

JJ's Pov:

Bella Elizabeth Brooks.

The Princess of Kildare. With a heart of gold and the face of an angel. The girl everyone wants to be or be with. And the only person to disagree with that.. herself.

Bella grew up on The Cut with no mum, a father but no dad, and barely any friends. Despite the idolisation, everyone has always avoided her, and that's for one reason and one reason alone - Thomas Brooks.

The man who created the island's untouchable sweetheart.

There's reasons for it, that only the Pogue's side of the island understand. Whereas, for Figure Eight? Let's just say Tom has a good friend who keeps his status well-worded.

Don't get me wrong, Tom is THE most respected man in the OBX; works for everyone, always knows how to put smiles on their faces, and never has a bad thing to say about anything or anyone.

Well, that all goes out the window when it comes to Bella. I mean who wouldn't throw that all away if they had a daughter like her? But it definitely all changed when the whole fiasco with her mum came out last year. (14 years prior her mum passed. Her dad.. I'll save that for later). But it completely ruined everything for the both of them; everyone stopped wanting Thomas to take their jobs meaning they were losing a lot of money, and Thomas didn't want Bella having anything to do with anyone, as they all started spreading rumours about her, so he pulled her out of school.

Luckily the news only went around The Cut. So, ever since last Summer, Bella and Tom have been working up on the North side, taking jobs from anywhere they can like the Island Club or even just small things like mowing people's lawns. To be fair if I was getting paid that much, l'd do anything for them too. It helps that their family friend is only THE richest man on the island, so it makes surviving that little bit easier.

The Brooks had to start over from rock bottom, again, but they've managed to get themselves back to where they were. Everyone has started to move on from the situation, but now it was Thomas' turn. Which leads me back to why Bella doesn't like her life, despite having almost everything.

Her parents are Kooks, grew up on Figure Eight, best friends with Ward and Mary Cameron (before she left). Tom and Ward were inseparable since the day they met in Middle School, then meeting Mary and Elizabeth (Bella's mum) in High School, as they were cheerleaders for their football games.

However, Thomas suffered with mental illness since he was a little boy, and it slowly grew worse over the years. It meant that taking care of himself was bad enough, so being in a relationship with Eli would be extremely difficult. But, Elizabeth and Ward were what he needed as a distraction from everything else, so he stayed.

Taking us to 17 years ago (7 years later), when Eli found out she was pregnant and began to focus on that instead, something clicked in Tom's head. Almost like flipping a switch. Eli wasn't enough to make his thoughts go away anymore and Ward was now busy with Cameron Development so he turned to alcohol as a last resort. He wanted to move to The Cut to see if starting over would help him to get better but in-fact it did the opposite.

Around when Bella was 2, Eli and Thomas got into a huge argument over his drinking problem and how it was affecting their daughter’s life. One thing led to another and.. (I think you can piece it all together by now.)

The problem was, Tom is the sweetest man to exist, but when he lashes out he's a completely different person, even to himself. Afterwards, he doesn't remember a thing as if it was someone else inside his body. So him and Bella thought nothing of it; ignoring whenever he had an ‘episode’ (what they started to call it as he began to switch up more often and had no recollection of it after).

When Ward found out, he realised how distant he'd been; bailed Tom out and sent him to rehab.

This is where I come in.

At the time, Thomas, Ward, Mike, Bobby, and my dad, Luke, were all friends. They all were aware of Tom's mental health but never knew what happened that night (other than Ward) and they made sure to keep it that way.

Bella stayed with me and my dad for about two weeks before Thomas gave up on rehab. He believed that as long as he had Bella and he stopped drinking, he'd be okay. Ward didn't want to admit it, but he didn't trust Tom with his own daughter, especially when he was still grieving, so all of his friends would be over every night to 'check up on him'; they'd gamble, watch football, spend time with me and Bella (and an occasional Sarah and Rafe if Mary was busy).

Whatever it took to distract Thomas from his own mind.

Bella grew up surrounded by people; as we grew older and went to school, meeting new people was on the top of our list. Because of my dad, I practically lived at the Brooks house, so when Bella and Tom started going to Tannyhill for the weekends, I had to fill in the time. That's when I met John B. Then Kiara, then Pope. Bella, on the other hand, wasn't good at making friends, her dad was very picky with who she could surround herself with so she settled for me, Rafe and Sarah. The people he knew.

Rafe and Sarah began to visit the Brooks with Ward and so, even though I was quite sceptical about the whole ‘Kooks befriending Pogues thing’, I had no choice but to do so. The Camerons are the only reason, me, Bella and Tom have a good life so tolerating them is my way of thanking them.

Sarah ditched Bella for Kiara during High School before ditching Kie aswell (I don't know what happened, don't ask, the look I get when I ask is like I just murdered a whole family of turtles). This led the visitings to stop however, and they only saw each other once a week. The weekend stays were cut to a Friday dinner at most and so Bella and Rafe grew apart.

Bella was left with me and her dad. And then because of the whole information outbreak last year, she lost everything else. Thomas has worked his ass off to give her everything he can and she appreciates every part of it. She always tells him that she'd be happy living in a cardboard box as long as she had me and him, but it never stopped him from trying to give her the world.

But trust me, she meant it.

Anywho. The good news after that shitshow of a trauma dump that doesn't actually belong to me but to my gorgeous best friend, is that because of Bella and her dad working at the Island Club so much, her and Rafe reunited and are now as close as ever.

Gross, gag me..

Joking I can't say that.

He's sat right beside me smoking a J with me whilst Bella's asleep on the other side of the L -shaped couch.

Me. Rafe. Bella.

The ‘Famous Trio’ of Kildare Island. I'm not going into another lecture but let me just say that we are the most well known people in the OBX right now. Rafe's the heartthrob of the Kooks, me? I'm the Pogues equivalent of course, and Bella's the beauty that came from the beast (Her dad, get it? No? Okay..) and we're all somehow friends.

Everyone on the island thinks we’re this weird throuple because of how close we all are to one another but we're actually so far from it.

Okay that was a lie.. to Bella there's absolutely nothing between us. But me and Rafe? GOD we fawn over Bella whenever we get the chance. And what makes it even harder to ignore is the fact that we know it'll never happen.

It's not that we want to sleep with her or anything, it's actually quite the opposite. We love that she likes us outside of that. That's what gets us the most, (other than the way she looks but that's a given), that she cares about us. And even through everything she'd never leave.

Bella Brooks is for life. And me and Rafe are never ever letting her go. That's a promise.

"Hm look.." Rafe lifts his phone to meet my eyes with the proudest grin on his face, a picture of Bella taking up the screen. It was a photo he took of her earlier today at the club whilst she was beating Topper at golf. Rafe taught her and she was quick to learn; he enjoys watching Topper's expressions when he loses to a 'beginner' when in reality she gets private lessons.

I watch the picture, as if it were a video waiting to load. My eyes widen, not being able to fix on only one area.

"Right..?" He chuckles, eyeing the photo himself, tracing every inch of it. Bella bent over, ass hanging out her shorts, and chest slightly exposed over her crop top as her arm is swung to hit the ball. Hair pulled back in a ponytail, held secure in one of Rafe's hats, showing off her whole face.

His eyes glare at me, eyebrows furrowed, now impatiently waiting for a response wondering if he should've shared the photo with me at all. "Send it to me.." I mumble, taking a glance at the Bella laying under a blanket across from us.

I always feel guilty about the way we ogle at her, like some toy we can play with, but we simply just think she's the most beautiful girl we've laid our eyes on. We don’t mean anything by it we just like to let her know.

He laughs passing me the joint, "Knew we were friends for a reason.."

Jealousy doesn't exist between me and Rafe; we know that Bella wouldn't choose between us and she loves us both equally so we have no reason for there to be any tension. Although I can't lie, I do get a little pissed when I see the way he looks at her. Because I know he sees her differently to me, he sees a sparkle somewhere in her that I haven't yet found and he's digging further for it with every interaction. I also know that he has a better chance with her, as me and Bella grew up together, meaning if we ever tried dating it would ruin everything we've worked for.

And Rafe knows that..

Alternative intro to my other one (pinned)

Let me know which you’d prefer to read more of x

Thank you for reading ❤️

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