#and every single day he makes it clear that he can’t imagine a world where he doesn’t love me just as much

[flickering-chandelier]

Long Story Short 

Pairing: Single Dad Cassian x Bestie Reader

Synopsis: Cassian loved Reader for as long as he could remember, but there never seemed to be any opportunity for more. Then what was meant to be a random one night stand ends with Cassian, alone, with a baby in his arms. Throughout this new journey in his life, Reader is there for him in ways that he never could have expected.

Based on this request! 🩷

Warnings: smut, pregnancy, swearing, a lil angst, mutual pining

Word Count: 6k

Cassian’s heart ached as he watched you settle in beside your lover, his arm slinging around your shoulders, your smile bright and loving as you looked at him, in your own little world as your friends talked and laughed at the table around you. 

He hated it when you brought him along to what he considered to be family functions, meant for the people Cassian loved. And that asshole certainly did not fit into that category. 

Okay, he could concede that this guy wasn’t that bad. But, he certainly wasn’t good enough for you. Nobody ever could be, but certainly not Zaden. 

Cassian knew he wasn’t good enough for you either, but he would try his damn hardest to be everything you needed if you ever gave him the chance. He had loved you so intensely for so long, he couldn’t imagine how you hadn’t already figured it out. He felt like the whole world dimmed in your presence, with you standing out in vibrant color against everything else. 

Suddenly, Azriel nudged him subtly with his elbow, and Cassian came back to real life, to the one where you loved him as a friend and nothing more, where you went to Zaden’s bed every night --

Rhysand was looking at him expectantly. Cassian cleared his throat. “Sorry, what did you say?”

“I asked how training is going in the mountains,” Rhysand purred, clearly amused to catch Cassian in the middle of a daydream. 

He was glad for the distraction, and gave them all updates about how the Illyrian armies were shaping up, before suffering through the rest of dinner with you across from him.

Cassian bolted out of his seat as soon as the plates were cleared, heading into the city, needing fresh air, needing some kind of distraction that would make his heart stop hurting for just a little bit. 

He ended up at a bar, tossing back glass after glass of amber liquid until a stranger sat right next to him, her arm brushing against his as she settled on top of the stool. 

When he looked at her, her eyes were already locked on his, her mouth curved into a sultry smile. She was beautiful, he had to admit. Not as beautiful as you obviously, but attractive nevertheless. 

She turned fully towards him, making small talk as she brushed her fingers along his arm. 

And he thought this could be a damn good distraction. 

---

Weeks later, you burst through Cassian’s door, tears in your eyes. 

Cassian stood up immediately, and you ran to him, burying your face in his chest as he held you close. “What is it?” he asked. 

“Zaden broke up with me,” you sniffed. 

He held you tighter, pressing a kiss to the top of your head. “What? Why?”

You groaned. “He said it just wasn’t working.”

“I’m so sorry,” he said, tilting your chin up so he could look at you. “Is there anything I can do?”

“Can we just hang out today?” You asked. “Is that okay?” 

“Of course it is,” he said, his heart leaping that he was the one you ran to. 

For the rest of the day, the two of you lounged around, and Cassian was doing everything he could to make you feel better.

When the sun dipped below the horizon, you were settled under his arm, your head against his chest. “I can’t believe I wasn’t good enough for him,” you said quietly. 

“No, don’t do that,” he said, and you tilted your head up to look at him curiously. “You’re the most amazing woman I’ve ever met.” 

“Cassian,” you whispered. 

“I mean it,” he murmured. Surely, you had to know. After all this time, how could you not see it?

Your breath hitched, your gaze dipping to Cassian’s lips for a moment. 

Then you were leaning toward him, your lips gently meeting his. He sucked in a breath, and shifted you so you were sitting on top of him. You were holding his face in your hands, kissing him and this is all he’s ever wanted, and he longed to melt into you and stay there forever, but…

He pulled back from you, his heart breaking. “You’re sad and you’re vulnerable. We shouldn’t.”

“Cassian,” you said, your voice breaking. “Have you ever thought about… us?” 

His heart lurched, his mind reeling, trying to decide how much to tell you. “Of course I have,” he said quietly, running his thumb lightly across your cheekbone.

Something like hope flickered in your eyes, and Cassian’s heart swelled. “You have?” You whispered. 

Cassian almost laughed, years of pining over you flashing through his mind. He couldn’t stop himself from leaning in and kissing you softly. “You’re incredible,” was all he could manage.

You laughed lightly. “So are you…” Your voice trailed off, your eyes darting away from his, a habit he knew meant you were trying to find the courage to say something. After a moment, your eyes locked on his again and you said softly, “Maybe we could be incredible together.”

Your name rushed out of Cassian’s mouth like a gasp before he could stop it. His heart sank into his stomach. He wanted you. Of course he did. But he didn’t want to be your rebound, the one you only noticed right after someone else had broken your heart. He wanted to be your first choice, the only one that mattered. 

He ran his thumb along your cheekbone. “If you really want to give us a shot… I think we should wait. Your emotions are all over the place right now, and I don’t --” he stopped short. 

Your eyes were swimming with pain as you looked at him, your hands on his shoulders. It broke his heart. “You don’t what?” you whispered.

I don’t want to get my hopes up. I don’t want you to hurt me, because I wouldn’t survive it. Not from you.

He swallowed. “I just think we should wait a few weeks. Give yourself time to get over Zaden.”

You slid off his lap and stood up, hardly looking at him. “Okay,” you said quietly. 

And without another word, you were gone.

Cassian prayed to the Mother that he hadn’t just fucked up his one chance.

---

A few days later, Cassian was still reeling from what you said. You had barely spoken since then, which was putting him even more on edge. 

Multiple times, he had contemplated throwing his dignity out the window and running to you, begging you to forget everything he had said and be with him already. 

But he wouldn’t do it. If he was going to be with you, he had to know it was because you actually wanted him. 

He ended up back at the bar that night, to drink away his problems, to soothe the anxiety he felt every time he thought of you just the slightest bit. 

Cassian had been sitting there for about an hour when a woman sidled up to him. He was about to brush her away, not in the mood, until he realized he knew her. It was his hookup from weeks ago. 

“Oh hey,” he said, wondering if she would even remember him. “Lana, right?”

She nodded, shooting him a tight smile that was nothing at all like the one he remembered. “I’m glad I ran into you. We -- umm. We need to talk.”

The tone in her voice sent him immediately on edge. He straightened, turning to face her fully. “About what?”

Lana winced slightly and that’s when it hit him. He didn’t pick up on it at first in the crowded room, but he could scent it now. “You’re pregnant,” he blurted. 

“Yes,” she said quietly, looking at him sheepishly. “It’s yours.”

“You’re sure?” Cassian choked out, his mind reeling.

“Trust me, I’m sure,” she ground out. 

“Wow.” He said. “Okay. Wow. This is -- Cauldron, this is…”

“Insane?” she offered.

He nodded, in a daze. “Sure. That works.”

Lana stayed silent, watching Cassian digest it. 

“I mean, I’m happy, I think,” Cassian said. “I’ve always wanted a family someday, and children are such a blessing. I just didn’t think it would be…now.”

“With a stranger,” she added. 

“Right.” He turned to Lana then, feeling like a complete idiot. “Gods, how are you feeling about all this?”

She smiled weakly. “About the same, I think. I hadn’t really thought about it, to be honest. Being a mom, I mean. Children are so rare, it wasn't ever something I really considered. But, I’m happy, I think. To have a baby.”

“Okay,” he said, nodding. “So… what do we do?”

Lana shrugged. “I have no idea.”

Cassian was almost embarrassed about what he was about to say. “We should… date, right? We should be a family?”

A slow smile lit up Lana’s face. “A family. I like that idea.”

“Me too,” he said. 

And that’s when Cassian remembered you. And what you had said. And the chance that he had just lost. 

But then he thought of the baby. His baby, his child. 

Maybe dreams could change. And maybe that was okay.

---

You had never been so embarrassed in your life. You understood where Cassian was coming from, of course. You understood how it looked, running right to him after Zaden had dumped you. 

But, his rejection still stung.

Cassian had been a near constant in your life for the past few decades, to the point where now you couldn’t even imagine how you had made it through anything without him. 

It wasn’t until more recently, when things with Zaden had started to go downhill, that you thought maybe it would be wonderful if your relationship with Cassian… changed. 

He was a good man. Endlessly attractive? Of course. Hilariously funny? You thought so, anyway. But, his heart. When you really sat down and thought about it, you realized you didn’t know anyone better on the planet. 

And to top it all off, he was your best friend. You already had such a strong foundation, you imagined it would be remarkably easy to fall into something else, something deeper. 

So, when he was holding you and calling you incredible, and looking at you in that way that only he ever has, you laid it on the line. You took the chance.

And it had completely backfired. 

He hadn’t said no, exactly. Just not right now. But wasn’t that the same thing? 

A loud knock on your door roused you from your thoughts. 

You knew who it was before you even opened the door, but you weren’t expecting him to look so frazzled. You had never seen Cassian look like he wasn’t in control.

“What’s going on?” You asked. 

He barreled into your apartment, barely stopping to look at you. He ran both his hands through his hair, and your eyes lingered for a second on the way his biceps flexed as he did so. You had to blink to force yourself to focus back on his face. 

“I’m going to be a dad.”

You laughed, but when he faced you fully, his eyes full of panic, you sobered. “Wait, you’re being serious?”

His jaw was clenched. “Completely serious. I hooked up with someone at a bar a few weeks ago. And she’s pregnant.”

“Cassian,” you breathed. It was all you could say.

“I know,” he said, and his expression became pained as he looked at you. “We’re going to try to be together. To be a family, for the baby.”

And that’s when you realized, he wasn’t just here because you were his best friend and he needed to talk to someone. He was here to tell you it wasn’t going to happen between the two of you. Ever.

You swallowed, trying to keep your voice even. “I’m here for you. Whatever you need, okay? I mean it.”

He looked so incredibly relieved that your heart swelled with love. “I’m so sorry. I know we said--”

“It’s okay,” you cut him off, unable to hear him say it. “It doesn’t matter.”

“It does matter,” he said softly, stepping forward and taking your hand in his. “It’s just -- I wasn’t expecting this.”

“I know,” you murmured, trying to keep your tears in. “You should be a family.”

His eyes softened. “I’m sorry,” he said again, his voice breaking. 

“Don’t be,” you whispered.

It wasn’t until much later, after Cassian left, that you let yourself sob until your eyes burned, until your head was throbbing. 

You had your chance. And now it was gone. 

---

It was a while before things felt normal between you and Cassian again.

And as far as Cassian and Lana… well, it wasn’t exactly the epic romance that Cassian had always hoped to find. They got along, they had fun. But Cassian couldn’t help but wish there was more of a spark.

Maybe when the baby came, he thought. Maybe when they had this beautiful little life to bond over and protect together. 

But that worried him, too. As much as Lana said she was on board, he could tell she wasn’t as happy as he was. She had mentioned more than once that she never saw herself as a mother. And Cassian had no idea what it was to be a good dad -- what the hell were they going to do? What if they messed everything up? 

As the due date drew closer, he could tell Lana was getting even more anxious, which was to be expected. Right? 

When the due date was only days away, Cassian met up with Lana and immediately he could tell that something was wrong. She was wringing her hands nervously, trepidation coursing through every part of her. 

“I can’t do it,” she blurted out, before Cassian could say so much as a greeting. 

“What?”

“I can’t be a mother,” she said, tears suddenly streaming down her face. “I can’t play house with you. I can’t give this baby a good life. I can’t do it, Cassian.”

Cassian was suddenly furious. “What? You’re telling me this now?”

“I thought I could get used to the idea. I thought maybe if you and I fell in love, it would make it easier, but we're not. And we’re not going to be, are we?”

He sighed, running his hand through his hair. “No, I don’t think so.”

“See?” she said. “We’re fooling ourselves if we really think the three of us could be a real family.”

“That’s bullshit,” he seethed. “We don’t have to be romantically together to be a family. To be there for our kid.”

“I don’t want to be,” she spat. “Don’t you get it? I don’t want this baby. I never did.”

Cassian reeled back a step, like she had slapped him. “You’re going to abandon your child?”

“It doesn’t feel like mine,” she whispered. “I don’t want it.”

He couldn’t stand to hear anymore, and didn’t want to be around to say something he would surely regret. Instead, he stormed past her, out into the night. 

---

“She said what?”

You were furious, pacing back and forth in your apartment.

“I’m going to be raising this kid on my own,” Cassian said, panicked. “What the fuck.”

“No, you won’t be,” you said, taking his hands in yours, trying to steady him, forcing him to face you. “I’m here. Rhysand and Feyre can help. I’m sure Az will help when he’s here --”

“I appreciate that, but it’s not the same,” he said sadly. “I can’t believe this is happening. I am not prepared for this.”

“I know,” you said quietly. “I’m so sorry, Cass.”

He sighed, leaning down to rest his forehead against yours. Despite everything, despite how long it had been since there had been any possibility of something more between the two of you, your heart leaped at the contact. “What am I going to do?” He whispered.

“Take it one day at a time,” you said softly. “You’ll be okay.”

You prayed that it was true. 

---

Unsurprisingly, as soon as the baby was born, Lana hit the road without so much as a goodbye. Everyone rallied around Cassian for the first several weeks, you more than anyone. 

Cassian was exhausted, more terrified than he had ever been in his life, but also more in love than he could have ever thought possible. 

She was his whole world, the little bundle in his arms. She was the only thing that mattered. 

“I can take Asteria for a bit,” you said. “You should rest.”

It was the middle of the night. He had for all intents and purposes, moved into the river house, and you had basically moved in too. There was always someone around him, which he was endlessly grateful for, but he felt guilty that his whole family had essentially put their lives on hold for him, especially you. 

“It’s okay,” he grumbled. “I got it.”

“Cassian, when was the last time you slept?”

He paused, trying to remember. 

“If you don’t know, it’s been too long,” you said gently as you came up to stand next to him, resting your hand on his shoulder. 

Cassian leaned into your touch for a moment before he sighed and passed Asteria to you. “I won’t be long,” he said.

He passed out right there on the bed. 

When he woke up, the sun was shining through the window.

Cassian sat bolt upright in bed, and there you were, sitting in the rocking chair in the corner of the room with his daughter in your arms, freshly clothed.

“Afternoon, sunshine,” you chirped, smiling.

“Afternoon? I was out that long?” 

“You needed it,” you said.

“You should have woken me up,” he grumbled. 

“This is a team effort, remember? I love you, Cassian. I want to help.”

And for about the millionth time in his life, he thanked the Mother that he had you.

---

Asteria bounded out the front door, crashing into your legs, holding you tight with a grin. “You’re here!”

“Of course I’m here! I’m here all the time, you goof,” you teased, brushing some windswept curly hair out of her face. 

“Will you come color with me? Dad and Uncle Azzie were coloring with me, but they’re not very good,” she said, her voice dropping conspiratorially. 

“Well, sweetheart, we all have our different ways of expressing art,” you said, trying to hold back your laugh. “But, yes of course, I will color with you.”

She took your hand and led you inside. You shot an apologetic glance back to your boyfriend Landon, who followed you with a small smile. He wasn’t quite used to Asteria and Nyx yet. 

You followed Asteria into the kids’ playroom at the river house, where the whole family was meeting for dinner tonight. Cassian, Azriel, and Nyx were sitting on the floor, all coloring with crayons and pencils. 

Asteria motioned to Cassian’s and Azriel’s artwork, which just looked to you like random splotches of color. “See?” she whispered to you. 

“See what?” Cassian grinned at the two of you. 

Laughing, you said, “Asteria was just telling me about the art you and Uncle Azriel were creating.”

Azriel’s mouth quirked up into a tiny smile, looking fondly at Asteria. “You were making fun of our masterpieces, weren’t you?” 

“Nooooo,” she said, grinning. 

Slowly, his eyes locked on her, Azriel stood up. Asteria froze beside you. Then immediately he was across the room and had her in his arms, turning her upside down and jogging around the room while she squealed with delight. “You should always stay a terrible liar, kid,” he teased. 

Grinning, you sat down at the table next to Cassian, and Landon settled in next to you, somewhat awkwardly. 

Soon, you were all coloring contentedly, Asteria and Nyx talking all of your ears off. 

“Would you be able to pick Asteria up from daycare tomorrow?” Cassian asked you quietly. “I have to go to the mountains for a bit, and I’m not sure what time I’ll get back.”

“Of course,” you said, and felt Landon shift slightly beside you. 

Cassian glanced at him, a muscle in his jaw ticking. 

You fought the urge to sigh. Cassian and Landon didn’t get along, even though you had been dating for nearly a year. It was exhausting. Landon thought that Cassian relied on you too much to raise “his” kid. Cassian thought Landon wasn’t understanding enough about the situation. It had led to many fights between you and Landon, mostly because you usually sided with Cassian. 

Mercifully, Rhysand walked in then, announcing that it was time for dinner. 

“Wow!” Rhysand said dramatically, kneeling in front of her. “That is beautiful. Much better than what the grownups at the table accomplished.”

“Uncle Rhys! Look at my picture!” Asteria beamed, holding her paper high above her head.

“Not you too,” Cassian groaned. “I was going for an abstract piece!” 

Rhysand chuckled, “Maybe we can have Aunt Feyre give your dad some art lessons, what do you think?”

Asteria’s eyes widened. “That is a great idea.”

You all laughed as you filed into the dining room and settled in for dinner, pleasant chatter filling the room as you dug into the food in front of you.

Everything was going well, even Landon was socializing with everyone. 

Until, Asteria looked at you, casually saying, “Can you pass the potatoes, mom?”

Everyone glanced at you, but kept chatting as you passed the plate to her. 

Landon stiffened beside you, and Cassian’s eyes locked on yours across the table for a moment, his expression unreadable. 

The rest of the dinner went by fairly smoothly, except for Landon not saying a word to anyone for the rest of the night. 

Cassian pulled you into a hug as you were leaving, murmuring in your ear, “Good luck.”

You laughed and Landon raised his eyebrow at you. 

It wasn’t until the two of you made it back to your apartment that Landon finally turned to you, his eyes on fire. “You’re seriously just going to act like it didn’t happen?”

“What?” You asked, already annoyed. “It wasn’t a big deal.”

“She called you mom.”

“So?” Honestly, it warmed your heart that Asteria saw you that way. 

“You’re not her mom. This is what I’m talking about, Cassian takes advantage of you,” he said, his voice raising.

“Don’t talk about him like that. He’s my family, Landon. Everything I do, I offer to do because I love them,” you said, your temper rising. “That’s not taking advantage.”

He shook his head, exasperated. “I don’t think I can do this anymore. You and Cassian -- It’s too weird.”

“It’s too weird?”

“Oh, come on,” he said angrily. “Don’t act like you don’t know that he’s in love with you. No wonder he wants you to play house with him so often.”

Your heart lurched. Cassian and you hadn’t talked about the possibility of something more since that night ages ago, before Lana, before Asteria. After Lana and Cassian had called it off, you thought that maybe something would happen, but Cassian had never brought it up again, and you had assumed that he didn’t feel that way anymore. You pushed through it, helping him in any way that you could. But, you never quite stopped having those feelings, couldn’t help but let your mind wander to what could have been every once in a while. 

“You don’t know what you’re talking about,” you said finally. 

Landon let out a humorless laugh. “And you’re kidding yourself.”

“Leave then,” you spat. “We're done.”

As he left, all you could think about was Cassian and Asteria. And what you really wanted out of life. 

---

Cassian was carefully braiding Asteria’s hair when you stopped by a few days later. 

“Braids before bedtime?” You asked, smiling as you leaned against the door frame, watching Cassian's rough hands gently running his daughter's hair through his fingers.

“I want my hair to be curly tomorrow!” Asteria smiled.

“Good thing your dad got so good at braids, huh?” 

Cassian smiled at you warmly as he tied the end of her braid.

“You ready for bed, honey?” Cassian asked.

Asteria nodded, but looked at you. “Can you put me to bed?”

Your heart swelled, and you looked to Cassian, who nodded, his eyes swimming with affection.

“Of course,” you said, following her to her bedroom in Cassian's apartment.

You tucked Asteria into bed, and she looked up at you, looking contemplative. “Can I ask you something?”

“Sure, what is it?” You asked, surprised by how serious she was being.

“Are you mad that I accidentally called you mom? I didn't mean to, it just came out,” she said.

“No, I'm not mad,” you said, surprised. “Did I seem mad?”

“You didn't, but… Landon did.”

Your heart broke a little. “Oh sweetheart, I'm sorry he made you feel like that. You don't need to worry about him. I won't be seeing him anymore.”

Asteria looked surprised. “It's just… you kind of are my mom. You do all the things that other kids’ moms do.”

You smiled, taking your hand in hers for a moment. “I do?”

She nodded. “I love you.”

“I love you, too. And you can call me whatever you want, okay?”

Asteria beamed, leaning back into her pillow. “Okay.”

You said goodnight, and found Cassian lingering in the hallway, his eyes slightly wide.

“What happened with you and Landon?” He asked. 

You sighed, walking with him to the living room, out of Asteria's earshot. “Nothing. It doesn't matter.”

He raised an eyebrow as the two of you settled on opposite chairs, facing each other. “It was because of that night at dinner, wasn't it? Because of what Asteria said?”

You bit your lip, hesitating, unsure how he would react to the truth.

The lack of response was enough for him to figure it out. He scoffed angrily. “You've got to be kidding me. Cauldron, I always hated that guy.”

“I know you two didn't get along--”

“That's an understatement,” Cassian growled. His hands were gripping the chair’s armrests so tightly, you thought he might break it.

“What are you so worked up about?” You asked. “If you hated him so much, shouldn't you be glad that we broke up?”

“I'm worked up because I'll never understand what you could have possibly seen in him,” he seethed, his eyes boring into yours. “Explain it to me. Please.”

You looked at him incredulously. “Explain what?”

“Why you stayed with him! Why you liked him in the first place!”

He was furious and for the life of you, you couldn't understand why. “I don't know,” you said, searching for an answer that would be enough for him. “We hit it off at first, and I guess the problems we had seemed small until they weren't anymore.”

Cassian's eyes narrowed as he looked at you. “That's it? You hit it off, and that's why you stayed with him? Gods, he was never good enough for you,” he said, rising from his chair and looking down at you, his eyes on fire.

You rose too, stepping up to him, still confused by his anger, but it spurred on some of your own. “Who would be then, Cassian? Since you clearly know what's best for me, who would be good enough for me?”

“I would!” He roared.

Your heart stopped. Your face must have shown your shock because his body relaxed, exhausted. He was breathing heavily as he looked back into your eyes and said quietly, “I would be. I would try my hardest to be.”

“Cassian,” you whispered.

“You're my family,” he said gruffly. “You, me, and Asteria. The three of us, we're a family. And… gods, I've loved you for so long,” he said, his eyes swimming with pain, with want. 

“Why didn't you ever say anything?” The words came out like a plea.

He loosed out a breath. “You were always with someone. And then when you finally showed interest in me, Lana showed up… and by the time we had ended it, I had a baby to worry about. I didn't have the energy to think about anything but her. When she was older and I was thinking about that aspect of my life again, you were with Landon! When was I supposed to tell you?”

Your head was spinning. “I -- Cassian,” you choked out.

And then you surged forward, taking his face in your hands and pulling him to you, kissing him the way you had been wanting to for ages.

--- 

Cassian wasn't sure if he was breathing. He didn't mean to lose it with you like that, to lay it all on the line, but picturing you with that jerk who hated him and his daughter made him see red.

The fact that he broke up with you because his daughter loved you so much made him see red.

So, he lost it. And he finally, finally told you the truth.

And now he was holding you in his arms, and your hands were on his face and your lips were on his and he didn't think he was breathing.

He groaned your name, pulling you closer into him, his hands roaming down your sides, wrapping around to grip your ass. 

You jumped into his arms, wrapping your legs around his waist and he couldn't help but smile into the kiss, carrying you through the hallway into his bedroom.

Slowly, he laid you down onto the bed, leaning over you as you sunk into the mattress, kissing down your throat. You sighed his name and he nuzzled his face into your neck.

Your fingers curled around his bicep, and into his hair. “I love you, Cassian,” you said softly. “I've loved you for a long time.”

He pulled back to look at you, his thumb running across your cheek. “The people you dated?” He asked.

Your eyes softened as you gazed up at him. “I didn't think you were interested. I was trying to… move on.”

Cassian laughed humorlessly, letting his forehead rest against yours. “Guess we kept missing our window, huh?”

“Not anymore,” you said, wrapping your arms around his neck and pulling him into another kiss.

“Let's not waste anymore time,” he said against your mouth.

You immediately clawed at his chest, working his shirt off. He laughed, helping you pull it over his head. 

Heat ran through his entire body at the look in your eyes as you stared at the exposed skin of his chest, his arms.

He reached for you, but you sat up and caught his wrists, forcing his arms to his sides. You looked mesmerized as you traced a finger along his collarbone, then ran your hand down his chest, across his abs, down to his waistline, stopping at the top of his pants. 

Cassian sucked in a breath as you toyed with his pants, your eyes trained on his body. 

“You're drooling now, just wait til you get my pants off,” he teased.

Your eyes flicked to his, darkened with lust. 

That look set him off. He growled, taking your face in his hands and kissing you hard. You gasped into his mouth, and he took your hand in his, settling it on his bulge.

You gripped him through his pants, stroking up and down lightly. He groaned, bucking his hips.

“Off,” you mumbled against his lips, tugging at his pants.

“Whatever you want, sweetheart,” he said, and rose from the bed before letting his pants drop to the floor, kicking them behind him.

Your eyes were wide as he stood bare before you.

He laughed lightly, then sauntered over to you, tugging on your hand to stand you up next to him. “I think you need to catch up to me,” he murmured, reaching to pull your shirt over your head.

His breath caught as his eyes raked down your body. He pulled you against him, kissing down your neck, down your chest, running his hands down your sides, pulling your pants off slowly. 

You gasped quietly as he wrapped his hands around the backs of your thighs, picking you up and laying you down on the bed, hovering over you, kissing you deeply as his hands roamed your body. 

“You have no idea how many times I’ve dreamed about this,” he groaned against your skin.

“Show me,” you said quietly, your hands scanning down his back. 

Cassian didn’t need to be told twice. He lined himself up at your entrance and slid into you slowly. 

The two of you moaned in tandem as he filled you completely. His eyes were locked on yours as he started moving inside you, slowly at first, but his thrusts became deeper and harder the longer you clung to him, the more gasps and mewls that you made. 

He twined his fingers with yours, holding your hands above your head as he pounded into you, gazing down at you. 

You bit your lip when your legs started shaking and Cassian grinned. “Don’t wake up the kid,” he smirked. 

“Cassian,” you whined. 

You glared at him and he laughed, gently covering your mouth with his hand as you came undone, your legs wrapping around his waist, pulling him even deeper and he groaned, finishing inside you. 

He collapsed on top of you, both of you breathing heavily. Cassian kissed your forehead before nuzzling his face in your neck. 

“I can’t believe this is real,” he said wistfully as he rolled off of you, brushing the stray hairs off your face, tucking them behind your ear. 

“But it is,” you smiled. 

The look in your eyes, the utter love and affection made his heart race. After all this time, he had you in his arms. And he wouldn’t let anything screw up this chance he’d been given.

---

“Mom,” Asteria whined from outside. “Uncle Rhys isn’t sharing!”

Rhysand gasped dramatically. “You’re tattling on me?”

She giggled, covering her mouth with her hands. 

“What isn’t Uncle Rhys sharing with you?” You asked, waddling out to the doorway, your hand resting on your swollen belly. 

“It’s my turn!” Rhysand claimed, holding Asteria’s new ball above his head. 

You laughed at your ridiculous family. “Asteria, honey, it sounds like you’re the one who’s not sharing.”

Asteria crossed her arms over her chest, frowning. “Fine. Uncle Rhys can play with my new toy.”

“That’s very nice of you,” Cassian called to her, wrapping his arms around you from behind, lovingly placing a hand over yours on your stomach. “How’re you two doing?” He murmured in your ear. 

You couldn’t help but smile, leaning into his touch. Cassian had always been protective of you, but since you had gotten pregnant, he had barely left your side. “The same as the last time you asked two minutes ago,” you teased.

He chuckled, pressing a kiss to your shoulder. “Glad to hear it.”

You turned in his arms, holding his face in your hands and kissing him sweetly. “I love you,” you smiled. 

“I love you,” he grinned, leaning in to kiss you again. 

“And I love you!” Asteria beamed, bounding up to the two of you. 

Cassian grinned, scooping her up into his arms, bringing her into a group hug. “And my baby brother,” she added, patting your belly gently. 

“One big happy family,” Cassian murmured, gazing at the two of you, his eyes twinkling with all the love in the world. 

@loving-and-dreaming @birdsflyhome @hanuh @sheblogs @iambored24601 @thalia-as-blog @ecliphttlunar @melmo567 @headacheseason @yourqueenlilith @halibshepherd @azrielshadows1nger @cigvrette-dvydrevms @evergreenlark @bookloverandalsocats @sillysillygoose444 @mariamay02 @andreperez11 @lilah-asteria @marina468

[nephalem-da]

Morbid Musings

(Bill Cipher x OC)

Synopsis: Bill Cipher shares his dark and quirky thoughts with his wife, Maeloraelis, during a quiet moment together.

The Nightmare Realm was as chaotic as ever, a swirl of colors and energies that defied logic and reason. Yet amidst the cacophony, a small pocket of calm existed—a quiet moment between two beings who had long since made this world their own.

Bill Cipher was in one of his chatty moods. His triangular form bobbed with excitement as he rambled on, his single eye wide and animated, with his lid curving upward in an upside-down U, mimicking a smile. He gestured wildly with his free hand, while his other hand was firmly clasped in Maeloraelis’s, their fingers intertwined. Despite his chaotic nature, there was a certain rhythm to his ramblings, a cadence that hinted at the intelligence lurking beneath his manic exterior.

“You know, Mae, did you ever hear about the human who tried to invent an indestructible material?” Bill began, his eye widening with a mischievous glint. “Poor guy didn’t account for human greed—his invention got locked away in some vault because, get this, it was too perfect! Can’t have something that lasts forever, right? Where’s the profit in that?”

Maeloraelis’s eye softened, her eye half-lidded in a look of pure adoration. She’d heard this story before—probably more than once—but she never tired of hearing it in Bill’s unique style. She gave his hand a gentle squeeze, encouraging him to continue.

“And get this,” Bill continued, his eye narrowing slightly, the corners of his lid curling downward in a playful smirk, “Did you know that there’s a species of jellyfish that’s basically immortal? Like, when it’s done with life, it just reverts to its younger self and starts over. Crazy, right? Imagine if we could do that! We’d never have to worry about wrinkles or gray hairs—oh wait, we don’t have hair!” His lid curved into a wide arc, mimicking a grin as he cackled, his laughter echoing through the void.

Mae’s expression brightened, her eye gleaming with affection. “Sounds like they’ve got the ultimate do-over, huh? Must be nice to hit the reset button whenever you feel like it.”

“Exactly! But here’s the thing—” Bill’s eye narrowed into a sly squint, the corners of his lid forming a knowing smile. “They can’t remember their past lives. It’s like starting with a blank slate every time. No memories, no regrets, just endless loops of the same old thing. Makes you wonder, though... what’s the point of living forever if you can’t remember any of it?”

Mae tilted her head thoughtfully, her eye’s lid arching slightly as she considered his words. “Maybe it’s about the journey rather than the memories. Each life a new adventure, even if it’s the same.”

Bill paused, his lid relaxing into a thoughtful expression. After a moment, he shrugged, his eye brightening again. “Yeah, but where’s the fun in that? I’d rather keep all the memories, even the messy ones. They’re what make us... well, us!” His lid curled into a softer U-shape as he looked at her, the chaotic energy in his eye softening. “Like us, Mae. I remember everything from the day we met, even though we were just little shapes in a big, scary world. And look at us now—ruling the Nightmare Realm together! How’s that for memories?”

Mae’s soft pink hue seemed to glow brighter at his words, her eye locking with his. “Every moment with you, Bill, is a memory worth keeping. Even your random facts and... unusual observations.” Her eye’s lid curved into a warm, loving smile, her affection for him clear in the way she held his hand and listened to every word he said.

Bill’s expression softened, his eye narrowing slightly in a tender gaze—a rare look for the chaotic being. He leaned in closer, his voice dropping to a murmur. “You’re the best part of this crazy existence, Mae. I don’t need immortality or do-overs as long as I have you by my side.”

Mae’s heart swelled at his words, and she lifted their intertwined hands, brushing the back of his hand with her lid in a gesture akin to a kiss. “And I’ll be here, always, to listen to every story, every fact, and every wild idea you come up with.”

Bill chuckled softly, leaning his triangular head against hers, their auras mingling in a soft, shimmering display. “Good, because I’ve got plenty more where that came from. Now, did you know about the island where bones just—”

Mae smiled, settling in for another one of Bill’s endless rants, her love for him unwavering. The Nightmare Realm may have been chaotic, but in this moment, everything felt perfectly right.

[slothquisitor]

Invisible String: Chapter Five

A Baldur’s Gate III Modern AU.

Chapter Summary: Astarion can't avoid Liv forever, right?

Read from the beginning.

Read on AO3.

__________________________________________________________

There’s something wrong, but Liv can’t figure out what it is. She hasn’t seen Astarion for more than a handful of minutes in days. His door is either shut tight or he doesn’t appear to be home whenever she is, and she’s not sure how their slowly emerging friendship has turned into this. She’s texted him a few times, little check-ins, an invite to watch Crown of Shadows , but his responses always read as terse, short replies. ‘No thanks’, ‘Busy tonight’, or her least favorite ‘k’. She’s spent the last few days trying to figure out what in the world she could have done to earn this level of indifference, to thrust them back into being strangers again, but she can’t think of a single thing. 

To make matters worse, FangtasticLover is ghosting her too. He’d called her dull when she’d finally told him what she did for a living, and she hasn’t heard from him since. That whole thing started about the same time Astarion started acting weird too, so she’s starting to wonder if she’s been hexed. Unlike with Astarion though, she has not messaged FangtasticLover. If he’s going to ghost her, well, that’s his prerogative, but she will not go about begging for his attention. 

So she goes to work every day and throws herself into creating her exhibition proposal, grateful for a distraction. It’s a more collaborative effort than she imagined. She thought perhaps it might be a competitive sort of thing amongst her coworkers, but instead, she and Gale help each other. She helps him catalog every Kafka-related work that they have in the archives as well as tracking a few that other institutions might loan to them. He tells her about a copy of Jane Austen’s The Watsons handwritten and then scratched out in the author’s own hand, showing clear revising as she worked that’s tucked away safely in the vaults. They email university professors and graduate students to see if they want to collaborate. Lae’zel suggests a few movie scripts that she knows of housed in the archives and marked up by the writers themselves, and Liv helps Gale brainstorm a portion of his exhibition that could be interactive, placing a note at the end if the viewer would have burned all of Kafka’s work or not. Slowly, their proposals begin taking shape. 

And days go by without anything beyond cursory glances and tense greetings between her and Astarion. 

She hates that there’s something familiar about it, the clear burying of whatever the issue is. It’s how her family always operated. Growing up, she and her siblings were always doing their best to avoid any unpleasant interaction with their parents. There was no rhythm to it, no identifiable pattern. One day it might be about grades or the chores they’d been asked to do, the next it was that someone had made them late to leave somewhere. The anger and frustration and yelling fell without warning and then disappeared like smoke in the ether. After the initial outburst, it was never brought up again, leaving Liv often wondering if she had imagined the whole thing. 

It had been that way with her parents after the news had come out. There had been the initial conversation and then a follow-up where she tried rather unsuccessfully to get her parents to apologize, to take some responsibility for the ways they’d wounded her. And then nothing. Sometimes it felt like it had only happened to her and no one else. 

And here she is, trapped in those same patterns with Astarion. Something is wrong, but she’ll just keep letting it fester. She knows that if he walked in the door and acted like nothing had changed, she’d be relieved. She’d probably let it happen. Every time he strides out of the apartment, she’s screaming internally at herself to say something , do something . But she’s not sure how to even begin. So she just lets him go and hates herself a little bit more every time. 

Tonight, she has her baking show on in the background while she sits with her laptop open, continuing to scour the library’s database for anything she can use in her exhibition when her phone pings. 

FangtasticLover: Hey sorry I’ve been MIA. Work got really busy. 

She stares at his message, anger and relief and frustration all warring within her. FangtasticLover isn’t her friend, and he owes her nothing. But she had expected more after days of radio silence. She doesn’t respond right away, lets almost two hours go by to ensure he doesn’t think she was simply waiting around to hear from him. It also allows her anger to dissipate. They are not friends. They are simply strangers who matched on a dating app and enjoy messaging each other. He’s clearly not even interested in her otherwise why wouldn’t he suggest grabbing coffee or something? 

She’s not sure how to respond anyway. Part of her wants to be angry, to call him out on this bullshit. But what’s the point of that? They don’t owe each other anything anyway. But somehow, sidestepping the hurt and not calling out the ghosting makes her feel like a failure here too. 

Books>People: No worries. All good now?

FangtasticLover: Yeah. What about you?

Books>People: All good here too.

She’s positive that the absolutely lackluster quality of this whole exchange is going to convince him to ghost her all over again, but then he surprises her. 

FangtasticLover: No more dreadfully dull dinner parties with your fellow archivists?

Books>People: You’re the only one calling it dull, you know. Let me guess, your meet-ups with your coworkers are always awful.

FangtasticLover: They might be if I’d ever had a coworker meet-up.

Books>People: Not a cozy office atmosphere?

FangtasticLover: Certainly not like yours. I imagine you positively surrounded by books stacked so high you can hardly see one another. Is that accurate?

Books>People: I wish. Our offices are quite ordinary. I have a little cubicle, and while there are some books at my desk most of them are kept safely within the archives. Besides, most of the work we do now is digital, deciding where things should be housed, how often they need preservation work done. That sort of thing. 

FangtasticLover: What do you like about it?

Books>People: I guess I like in retrospect you can see the way people and societies work, and as humans, we create things that we hope will outlast us. I like the idea that I’m helping shape those things, preserve what should be preserved. 

FangtasticLover: But how do you decide what gets preserved and what doesn’t?

Books>People: Well, that depends entirely on the institution housing the archive, the type of archive…and even then there are scholars sitting around and debating that somewhere in the world right now.

FangtasticLover: So it’s complicated. 

Books>People: Very. 

FangtasticLover: You’re glad you moved here for it?

Books>People: Yes. 

And she’s not sure what compels her to add the next part, but she’s alone in her apartment and she hasn’t wanted to tell Gale or Brelia or Lae’zel that things with Astarion have been off. And well,  if she can’t call FangtasticLover out, maybe she can at least process this piece with him so that she handles her real life better than the online one. 

Books>People: Even if my roommate seems to be mad at me. 

FangtasticLover: Your roommate is mad at you?

Books>People: I think so, he’s hardly said a word to me in days. I’m not sure if I did something wrong. 

FangtasticLover: I’m sure you didn’t do anything wrong. He’s probably just an asshole.

Books>People: He’s not an asshole. 

FangtasticLover: What is he then?

Books>People: My friend, I hope. 

***

This is such a laughably stupid idea, and Astarion can’t find it in him to care. He’s been keeping his distance from Liv both virtually and in-person because he’d just needed time to figure this out, to know what to do about it. And he still doesn’t know what to do about the whole mess of a situation, but he does know that he misses talking to her both in the Weave and not. He’d fully planned to sever the connection in the Weave and text Karlach asking what a proper apology would look like for icing her out the last few days. 

But then, he does wonder what Liv thinks of him… what she sees when she looks at him…and he has the perfect means of finding out . All he has to do is get her talking about him. He’s alone in his co-op office staring at his phone and knowing that this is an absolutely terrible idea. He does it anyway, firing off a non-apology explanation over to her and waiting to see what she’ll say. When she doesn’t respond, he checks the shared calendar to see that she doesn’t have plans tonight, and she doesn’t…still it takes nearly an hour and a half before she replies, probably in an effort to keep him on his toes. Well, it worked. He got almost nothing done while waiting impatiently for her response to come through. 

He nearly fumbles the phone in his haste to read her reply, and instead of worry or anger or anything of the sort, she seems completely and utterly fine. Unbothered even at the lack of hearing from him. He’s almost offended and then he remembers he’s the one who ghosted her.

If he’s going to interrogate her about him though, he’s going to have to prime the pump so to speak. So, he asks her some deeper questions about her job which he already knows she loves talking about. But then she brings him up without him having to do a damn thing. It’s too easy really, to get exactly what he wants. He even calls himself an asshole to throw her off, but she defends him despite his awful treatment of her the last few days. 

And then the conversation doesn’t go quite as he expects. 

Books>People: My friend, I hope. 

He stares at the message. Friend. Liv thinks of him as her friend. That’s…good. Unexpected, but good. The temptation is too strong to resist, he types the stupidest, most obviously fishing question he could ask. 

FangtasticLover: What’s he like?

Books>People: Nocturnal, mostly. Obsessed with Crown of Shadows . Has far better fashion sense than me, but much worse taste in wines. 

All of those things are true more or less, but he does take offense to the last. But well, it’s a far more flattering picture of him than he was expecting. A far more flattering picture of him than he deserves, honestly.

FangtasticLover: He sounds like a rather good roommate.

Books>People: He is. I’m sure I’m blowing this whole thing out of proportion. 

FangtasticLover: I’ve never had a roommate before, is it typical to have little spats? 

Books>People: Sure. I think that’s inevitable when you’re in each other’s spaces all the time. The apartment belongs to him, so I’m still sort of trying to figure out where I fit. It still feels like I’m in his space.

He considers that for a moment, and she’s right. Beyond her use of the kitchen, the signs that she actually lives in the apartment are rather confined to her room, her space. That’s probably not normal, is it? 

FangtasticLover: Are you telling me your roommate doesn’t let you decorate?

Books>People: He did seem rather relieved I didn’t have any furniture to move in.

FangtasticLover: He probably just didn’t want to carry it into the building. 

Books>People: Which would have been fair. 

FangtasticLover: What else is he like? Devilishly handsome? Charming? 

Books>People: Wow, if I didn’t know better, I’d think you were trying to use me to get to my roommate. 

Hmmm. That might have been a step too far trying to bait her into telling him if she found him attractive. He moves off the topic of roommates and trying to get information out of her, lest she become suspicious. But every question he asks feels like taking a hit of the best sort of drug. He wants to keep asking her questions and hear everything she has to say about him unfiltered and honest. Especially if it’s going to be nice. But he is bothered by her comment about not feeling like she fits in his apartment, and well, she has her room but there’s nothing of her anywhere else. And he wants her to want to be there, he owes her at least that much after being an ass these past few days. 

And while he no longer avoids her on the Weave, he stays away another two days in person, lest she start making connections about him and FangtasticLover. He wonders if she’ll be as nonchalant with him as she was on the Weave. He probably owes her a proper apology, but instead, he makes her coffee one morning. He’s watched her do this enough times that it’s easy, and then he takes a seat with his e-reader in the living room. Waiting.  

Despite the aroma of warm coffee in the air, she doesn’t seem to notice the coffee is made until she goes to start it, before realizing it’s waiting for her. She stands there, her back to him for a few solid moments before turning around. 

When she speaks, her voice is even, a little gravelly from sleep but more annoyed than grateful. “Is this some sort of apology?”

Well, so much for nonchalance. “That depends entirely on if you believe you’re owed one.” He keeps his tone light, but there’s a question there he’s not willing to actually ask. 

She walks over to her usual chair, mug in hand. She folds herself into the chair, her legs tucked beneath her. Her pajamas are light blue, the silky material catching the light where the collared shirt hangs off her shoulder. When she finally speaks, it’s not what he expects. “You disappeared.”

He sighs. “I did.”

“Are you alright?”

He stares at her. She’s frustrated with him, he’s almost positive about that. But she’s not saying that, she’s not even making him feel like shit about it…well she is, but not because she’s trying to. She’s actually concerned, that much is obvious. “I’m fine. It wasn’t about you…I…I just needed some space.”

She nods and takes a sip of her coffee, considering. “Do I need to find a new place to live?”

“What? Why would you need to do that?” The panic in his voice is clear as day. 

She shrugs. “It just seems like maybe this isn’t working out for you.”

Gods, he’s such an idiot. This is not how he wanted this conversation to go. He doesn’t want her to leave . “It all had nothing to do with you, trust me. And it’s all good now; don’t start looking to replace me. So, are we good?”

She’s watching him, and he’s wondering what she’s thinking. He has the ridiculous impulse to pull out his phone and text her that very thing. He doesn’t.  

There’s a hint of uncertainty in her eyes, but she presses on, looking like it’s taking a lot of energy to do so. “Here’s the thing: I don’t ghost my friends. If you need space, that’s fine. Just tell me. You don’t owe me anything more than that, but we live together and your avoiding me just makes me feel unwelcome in my own home.”

Oh. He hadn’t considered how his behavior might make her feel. That she would be genuinely bothered by it. “I apologize. Next time, if there is a next time, I promise to say something.”

“Thank you. I was mostly bent out of shape because I've been dying to watch the next episode of Crown of Shadows and it felt like an asshole move to not wait for you,” she says, her smile disappearing behind her coffee mug. 

“I admire your restraint; I don’t know that I could have done the same. Shall we plan on that tonight?”

“Yes, please.”

And just like that, everything goes back to exactly the way it should be. 

***

It’s odd how quickly Liv’s life takes on a sort of easy rhythm. Most mornings, she wakes to warm coffee and Astarion in the living room. They chat before she goes to work, and then spend a few evenings a week watching Crown of Shadows or talking smack as they play stupid games on their phones together. She and Brelia talk a few times a week, and she makes plans with Gale and Lae’zel as the last wisps of summer bleed away into proper autumn. 

Baldur’s Gate in the fall is a thing of beauty. The vibrant reds and oranges and yellows of the trees make even the grayest skies seem like something out of an autumn aesthetic dream. This city is feeling more like hers, and every day as she wanders the tree-lined streets she grins as she remembers that it is. 

When she walks into the apartment for the day, she isn’t surprised to see Astarion sitting in the living room on his laptop. It’s hard to say if he’s actually working on simply scrolling Chirper, but she offers her a smile as she hangs up her coat. 

“Congratulations on making it through the week,” he says as she sits heavily in her favorite chair. 

“We made it to the weekend. Big plans?” she asks. 

He shrugs. “Not really. You?”

“Gale was telling me about the Highharvestide Festival at one of the colleges tonight. Apparently, it’s a pretty big deal, and I thought I’d go check it out.” 

“You’re going off calendar, good Gods,” he teases. 

She tosses a couch pillow at him, and he bats it away. “Well, I was going to invite you to come, but now you’re being the worst.”

He looks rather surprised. “Really?” But then he schools his expression. “I’m allowed to express my disbelief that you would be so impulsive as to go out without previously scheduling it.”

“I can be impulsive,” she replies, resisting the urge to roll her eyes. She’s not sure why she’s viewing this as a challenge, she’s about ten years too old to rise to such transparent baiting, but it’s fun with him for some reason. “I moved in with you didn’t I?”

“Was that impulsive or just desperate to get off Lae’zel’s couch? Besides, it’s worked out quite well, we make quite the roommate team, you and I.”

“Oh, now you’re definitely trying to get an invite tonight. Why else would you be so nice?”

“I can be nice,” he replies in much the same tone as she’d said she could be impulsive. It’s a silly little echo, and she knows the fact is not lost on him. 

“Then you can come. If you want,” Liv replies. “I’d like an hour to relax, but then we can head over?”

Astarion glances out the window and then at the clock over the stove. “I’ve got a bit of work left to do…might need to be closer to an hour and a half?”

“Sounds great.”

An hour and a half later, they are both bundled up against the chilly autumn night and on their way to the university. It’s odd retracing the steps of her commute this late in the evening, the train is strangely empty, mostly devoid of both students and tourists. They go one stop further than she usually does, still emerging on High Street but much further south than she’s used to. It takes just a moment to get her bearings before she leads them toward Torm College. 

“I’ve never attended this particular festival, what exactly are we to expect?” Astarion asks, falling into step beside her. His black wool coat is all sharp lines and exquisite tailoring, unlike her he’s foregone a hat even though the night is quite chilly. It doesn’t seem to be bothering him. 

“Mostly food stalls, local crafts, there’s supposedly music, oh and plenty of cider. At least that’s what Lae’zel told me.”

“Are we going to run into Lae’zel?”

Liv laughs. “You don’t seem to be enthused at the prospect.”

“She didn’t like me.”

“She was very proud of her ability to throw you off. I wouldn’t take it personally.”

“She seems like the type of woman to zero in on any weakness.” 

Liv considers that for a moment, but finds she agrees. “She’s secretly a big softie, and more sentimental than you’d expect.”

“Don’t tell me she’s harboring a collection of some random childhood toy in her apartment.”

Liv laughs at the image of Lae’zel secretly hoarding a collection of My Little Owlbears. “No, not that kind of sentimental. It’s more that she’s really touched whenever people do something for her. Like she doesn’t expect it. She’s got a little shrine at her desk of gifts she’s received from us.”

She thinks he makes a thoughtful noise at that, but the sound is snatched away by a passing bus. She’s about to say something else, but then the festival comes into view. Torm College is all stone spires and vaulted archways, but the festival is in the nearby meadow, an area Liv has walked through exactly once. It’s a beautiful stretch of green within the city, a small river quietly meanders through it, and tonight it’s all lit up. She can see the white tents and the sparkling mage lights, bobbing in the darkness. There’s music floating up towards the stars and she can hear the din of laughter and talking and life.

“Okay, this was a good idea.” She’s filled with a bit of relief, the worry she might have dragged Astarion across half the city for something subpar vanishes now that she can see it. 

“Well, what have we got here?” he asks with a grin. “Let’s go explore it.”

And so they do, wandering the stalls filled with local art and warm, cozy food. When she pauses at a stall filled with beautiful art pieces, he stops too, browsing through them with interest. 

“Oh, this is beautiful,” she says. The piece shows some mountain hills, dark and gloomy, but there are circles of bright color, beautiful in their simplicity, floating through the meadow. It’s almost melancholy, the mix of abstract and traditional landscape is unlike anything she’s ever seen before. The canvas isn’t very large and it’s priced criminally low for how beautiful it is. 

“I like that,” Astarion says over her shoulder. “The colors are nice. You should buy it.”

She glances up at him and realizes that he’s the best sort of person to take shopping. He’d encourage you to buy everything. “I’m not sure where I’d even put it.”

“It could go over the bookshelf in the front room, of course,” Astarion replies, as if he’s not casually conferring ownership of their shared space to her. 

She has to buy it then, for all it represents even beyond how much she loves it. It’s wrapped up by the artist themselves, who smiles as they wrap the canvas carefully and place it in a bag. 

After, she and Astarion make their way to the food stalls, the smell of kettle corn permeating the air and mingling with fall spices. They both buy warm drinks, a mulled wine for him, and a hard apple cider for her. Astarion insists he’s not hungry, but Liv buys a warm pastry of some sort filled with cheese and potatoes. She offers him some anyway; he declines, but that’s fine. 

As they start wandering over to the music stage, Liv hears her name called in the crowd. She turns to see Rolan approaching, Gale and two other tieflings trailing behind. “Rolan! Gale!”

Rolan and Gale’s clear excitement at seeing her here lights up something inside of her. It’s a palpable sort of acceptance…a welcome that she didn’t realize she needed. She feels suddenly at ease even as she meets Rolan’s siblings, Cal and Lia.

“This is my roommate, Astarion,” she says, gesturing at Astarion who stands at her side a little stiffly, as if he’s not sure about this whole interaction.

“I’m so glad to finally meet you,” Gale smiles holding out a hand that Astarion sidesteps. Leaving Gale awkwardly tucking his hands in his coat pockets. 

“You must be Karlach’s friend,” Astarion replies. 

Before Gale can respond, Rolan jumps in. “We’ve heard a lot about you, Astarion. I rather thought Liv was mad moving in with someone she’d never met, but it seems to all have worked out for the best, hasn’t it?”

Liv knows that Rolan isn’t trying to sound condescending, but he does anyway. Astarion’s smile never falters, but it does take on a sharper edge than she’s ever seen. “Oh, it has, though I’m curious what you’ve heard.”

“We haven’t heard that much,” Gale adds quickly, trying to defuse the situation. “Lae’zel was just under the impression she’d made you nervous.”

Astarion laughs. “Oh, it takes much more than Lae’zel to make me nervous.”

“Which is more than we can say for Rolan who nearly shit himself when he misplaced one of Lae’zel’s pens the other day,” Liv says. 

They all laugh, including Rolan and the tension bleeds out of the moment as Cal and Lia tease Rolan. Gale sides with her over Rolan’s protestations, and the awkwardness dissipates. 

“We’re headed over to the band, want us to save you a seat?” Gale asks, glancing between her and Astarion. 

Liv nods and smiles. “There was a booth we wanted to check out, but we’ll catch up.”

Astarion gives her a look of confusion as the group moves towards the stage. “A booth? Which one? I don’t recall that conversation.” His voice drops accusingly. 

“We don’t have to go with them if you don’t want to,” she explains. “I didn’t want to agree without checking with you.”

“And if I say no?”

She shrugs. “I’ll text them that we’re doing something else.”

“Oh.” He looks genuinely baffled by her response. “Well, lead on.”

“You’re sure?” 

He gestures dramatically toward the stage. “They’re saving us seats, after all.” But as she turns, she’s almost sure she catches him watching her with something that looks like gratitude.

[unabashednightmarepizza]

𝑊𝑒 𝐶𝑜𝑢𝑙𝑑 𝐺𝑒𝑡 𝐴𝑙𝑜𝑛𝑔

A/N: If anyone's wondering the requests are open for tlou and THANK YOU FOR THE LOVE YOU SHOWED TO THE FIRST CHAPTER!

Series Masterlist | Main Masterlist

The late night breeze that used to calm you now was a distant memory, its wind only causing painful memories to resurface. That night, after your talk with Ellie, where you told her about your life before and Joel heard every single one of it, sleep didn’t find you for many nights. Many possible ends of how the man would think of you now, how he would act with you, occupied your mind so much that you sat up with an agitated groan and kick your boots away in the end.

Your head was throbbing because of how much thinking you did since that day, after shoving Joel away from you and begging Maria to go on a patrol outside the city which she reluctantly said okay and made you swear to be careful. Tommy saw how you talked hurriedly with shaky eyes, thinking that Joel did something more and getting ready to give him a piece of his mind when you stopped him with a soft smile, telling him that he now knew everything and that you needed some time before facing the gruff man.

“Oh...I’m sorry, Y/N.” He uttered softly with understanding eyes, knowing... witnessing what you had to do while rubbing your arms softly while you shrugged him off and went out with the Gear. “It’s fine, Tommy. Don’t strain your relationship with your brother just because of me... He didn’t do anything wrong.”

The moonlight that creeked inside your room that was once a peaceful place to rest, was now a place covered in broken glasses that showed your memories. And amidst the shower of sudden memories of the time when you saw Joel right in front of you, shock, guilt, and care being on the face of the grumpy man who tried to kill you, who insulted you non-stop, you cursed and threw your body on the creaking bed with a heave.

Cursing of the way you were thinking of the man.

The sudden thoughts you suddenly started to have about the man, after seeing him, had terrified you. Surely, he was a good looking man, strong enough and even if he acted all rough and harsh, he had a good heart. I can’t believe I’m getting worked up over a man after so many years, you thought, disbelief evident even in your inner voice. Maybe it wasn’t your fault entirely, after all you didn’t have a normal teenagehood where people like you experienced crushes and falling in love, in a normal safe place.

In here, there was no such thing.

Though you refused to admit to yourself that the man slowly grew in you, even taking a liking to his sassy answers, it was wrong... You were in an apocalyptic world, where people killed to survive... Thinking of a man...

But... it didn’t hurt to imagine, right?

“Nope, that can’t go like this... I need to clear my head and focus on my task.” You said, giving up on the sweet sleep and got up to wear the boots you kicked earlier, taking your blade and gun just in case. Making your way down the ladders of your home and out the house you had, there was still the thoughts of Joel and how... shocked and crestfallen he looked, in his own way, when he heard your story.

“Nice, now that I’m starting to have thoughts about a man I just met who heard all of my trauma... I also need to apologize to him.” You groaned tiredly, angry, but not at Joel or anyone.

To yourself.

It wasn’t your place to question who he had lost, how much pain he saw, and clearly somewhat, reminding him of his daughter by that sentence you said to him before getting to the car to escort them here.

At least I got to save people, when you couldn’t save any...

In your defence, you totally didn’t have any idea of him having a child. Had Tommy not come to you before throwing your gear on the backside of the car and explaining what happened to Joel hurriedly begore you said something more, your heart broke in your chest and froze on the driver’s seat, not expecting that. Had it been anyone else, you wouldn’t show your sympathy and how much it affected you but to learn that she was barely 12 and the he lost her right in front of his eyes just because of a policeman...

A scoff left your mouth, the bitter taste of what some of them who were unmerciful did to the people. That’s what you meant when you told Ellie that the world was even cruel to people when there were “laws”, and when it also went down, it trully showed the true nature of humans. You weren’t a stranger to their animosity, experiencing first-hsnd how it was...

Both in the modern world, and the one you had now.

“As someone careful, you are not really aware of your surroundings huh?”

At the deep, raspy vouce behind you, you didn’t hesitate to bring your gun up and point at whoever was behind you, only to see Joel in some pajamas and a shirt with messy hair, obviously tousled because of either he turned around on his bed or couldn’t sleep just like you. “Hey, hey, it's me! Calm down a bit, will ya?”

“In a shithole like this? Not a chance, Miller...” you said with a thundering heart that slowly calmed down, and put the gun to its original place. Joel’s eyes watched you with a steadiness you only saw on killer’s face, a face you once wore, but then unexpectedly, he gave a small smile to you.

You, who tried to kill him and basically threatened him.

“You’re right, Y/L/N but I can see that you still have some enthusiasm to live.” He said, pointing to the gun between your hand and you shrugged before putting it away.

“I’m a soldier now, I have a duty. And it’s to protect and save as many people as possible... If you call this enthusiasm, I wonder yours.”

The familiar words he remembered Tess saying before she sacrificed herself resurfaced and for a second, that same hard look came back. At that time, he swore he would change and never let something like that happen to anyone, leaving them to kill their own souls just for the sake of others. Her death was something unexpected, something he just... didn’t see coming. The face she did when she said that she didn’t expect him to return the feelings she had and how she screamed at him to go and take Ellie to safety...

It left a deep, painful scar on him.

But of course, you didn’t know any of these.

You wondered what you did this time when his eyes bore into yours and he walked up to you. You slightly panicked when he started to get closer to you, mind running all over the place to find something to say.

Should I apologize now? Or offer something to drink? No, am I pervert to do that? It never ended well in all the movies I watched, oh shit he is coming closer! Come on think some-

“You, uh... You couldn’t sleep too?” your hesitant voice and awkward smile stopped him right before you and he couldn’t help the amused smile creeping up on his face at seeing the ruthless woman he had first seen became an unsettled teen, and his mind played the time when you exploded and killed all the Clickers and the humans which made impression awake in him, he hummed to your question and went along with your game where you tried to avoid the topic at hand and awkwardly scratched his neck, feeling like a teenager all so suddenly with being close to you.

“Yeah, it’s the bed I guess... And the house.”

“Is something wrong? I thought Maria and Tommy gave you one with the greatest-“

“It’s not that... It’s more about me not being used to have a constant place to live for so long.” You hummed in approval, understanding where he was coming since you lived like that for a long time. It surely took a ling time for you to actually accept having a home, and even then, you still barely stayed there, thinking that it couldn’t belong to you.

But Maria was a scary woman.

Eyeing the bar at the end of that alley, which was still open for some reasons, you pinted there with your hand while your hands stayed inside your pockets. “Then, may I offer you a beer? As a token, you know?”

“I don’t know, kid-“

“Stop calling me that and besides, I was going there anyways. It’s good whenever I can’t sleep...” and besides maybe, we can talk some more, especially after that eavesdropping, you wanted to add but held your tongue back and waited for his answer.

And now, here you two were, in the same bar that would always stay open with beers in hand, casually talking as if you two had been friends for a long time. He looks much lovely like this, you thought while surpassing a smile at one of his stories. Laughing suits him more than that grumpy scowl-

“Cat got your tongue? You got quiet suddenly.” He said after gulping down the last dip and turned to you. You smiled and shook your head, hands starting to get sweaty.

“No, of course not... I was just thinking, about the past, you know? It all reminds me of the days I sued to hang out with my friends.”

“And here you are stuck with an old-man like me.” Joel chuckled under his breath, not disturbed in the slightest but still a small part of him was pouting at how the years passed so fast. All those cruel years, alone, scared and harsh...

And without...Sarah.

Your heart rate picked up at the sound and how attractive it sounded, mentally kicking yourself and blaming the alcohol when you spoke. “I wasn’t going to say that Joel but rather how I never imagined myself doing it with another one years later, in an apocalypse.”

If Joel had the littlest of mind to stop himself from blushing and getting shy, he would have done that when your teasing eyes found his and he realized just how teasing and funny you were, how warm you were...

How pretty you were.

But of course, he hid his inner thoughts behind an awkward cough, eyes darting away from yours which made him seem... Cute.

“ Didn’t know you considered us friends...” he pointed the glass to you accusingly, slighty tipsy but not enough to stop his brain function, shoxked that after what he said and did, you considered him to be of the town.

Friends, he thought bitterly. Even before all this shit, I didn’t have one...

To be honest, you were surprised of yourself too. Never in a million years would you have thought that you would be considering someone, a man, as your friend and even get confortable enough to drink with him. The world before outbreak was shit, the most trusted one could turn their back to you-and they still did- There was no guarantee that they wouldn’t drug you, lie to you, ruin you...

But still, humans always found something in another one to get close to. Humans are social creatures, darling. We can’t do much without the support of another...

You shrugged you shoulders, the tension slowly pouring down and away from your shoulders. “ Well, surprise then because I did... I know I have been an ass to you but you can’t really blame me after... you know...” you mumbled the last part, unsure if it was a good thing to....

And just like that, the awkwardness you two threw out the window came back, which answered your worries. Joel was reminded of his previous actions, and though there was guilt, there was also the sight of you all angry, marching up to him with your sword pointing to him.

A sight that enamored him, trully.

Now, he could feel the way his blush actually reached down to his neck and he cursed at his intrusive thoughts while you raised a brow at him, placing your glass down. You knew, after Tommy cornering you, that his daughter was killed by a police, shot through her abdomen and died between her father’s arms. You, never even if you tried, could understand the pain he went through. A father watching his child die before him was so much to bear and you knew that there was a high chance of him blowing on you if you said anything about it.

But unknowingly, you also ridiculed her death, and owed an apology to the man next to you.

And Joel, too, owed an apology after calling you a brat who was good for nothing and thought of herself highly who killed people unmercilessly.

“I’m sorry...” you both apologized at the same time, hearts almost feeling the way the other felt  and you couldn’t help the snort that left you while he chuckled genuinely. The sides of his eyes crinkled and you stared at them for so long and admired his smile that suited him, he did the same to you. He realized you didn’t show much emotion, but you were strong.

Not just mentally but physically.

He admired how you stood your ground. Sure and authoritative, making even someone like him listen to your commands and words. But a part of him envied you for moving on from what happened without not getting yourself into any of the things he did.

Or maybe you did, but didn’t say it to anyone.... Which was apparently the case, now that he heard your story.

He wondered how your life had been before this. You must be around 40 something according to your story and still, you looked as young as any other young adult, probably a result of always running and training. The amount of dedication you had, in your life and goal, amazed him and made guilt reappear at the words he had spitted in fit of rage.

He never liked people acting like they knew him the best, and in exchange, he had done the exact same to you, someone who saved them even when you didn’t have to.

He remembered his talk with Tommy, after watching you clean one of the terrain vehicles with a hard glare and tight lips after getting them back here safely,he asked Tommy what was your deal.

Why you looked so stern but always helped people when you didn’t like them so much.

“She may not like people, arrogant ones, especially,” he said, scoffing at his obvious interest and regret for assuming things and continued while he helped around one of the residents in the community. “But just so you know, she has the biggest heart in here. And the brains too. If Maria is the political kinda smart, she is the military-kinda-smart. If all these people are alive and well, living here, it’s thanks to her. Including you, Joel.”

Joel raised a brow at his brother’s protective side for you, curious what was the reason, his curiousity peaked even more at his brother’s last words before disappearing. “And Joel? A suggestion from me, she doesn’t like to be told what to do either. Liars too, so if you want to reconsile and apologize... Be genuine, or else she would cut your dick off.”

He probably wouldn’t do that, had he not started to look for Ellie and hear you tell her your story. Hearing you went through almost the same shit as him, and lost more than him and still, you found a way to keep going, made him angry at himself.

Angry because he couldn’t do that for the longest time, and still wasn’t able to, and because he saw his own pain worse than the others’.

He is not the only one who lost someone dear, your voice rang inside his mind and his hands clenched nervously around his glass. He never had to do that, any of it...

Apologizing.

His mind told him that he had to, for he already mistreated you enough. His heart stubbornly believed that he didn’t do anything wrong and behaved just like anyone who had seen another human after such a long time would have.

It has been days, you fucker, you know you have to!

He groaned at the inner voice screaming at him and rubbed his eyes harshly, mind and heart in a dilemna. His hand lingered there, and you watched the internal battle he had with curious and keen eyes. The moonlight that shone on half of his face was able to make you see what he was feeling. A war of mind and heart, indeed...

Lips almost up in a scowl, worry lines decorated his forehead and the veins on his arms bulged as if he was squeezing something really hard made you gulp and a feeling you weren’t used to feeling erupted in you.

Fear and... something more human...

Liking.

It was no lie that Joel was a good-looking man, skillful enough to survive for so long and though he had a shit way of showing his care behind that rough exterior, his eyes still betrayed him. You were no blind to the obvious care Ellie and Joel had for each other, the man protecting the girl as if his life depended on it made you smile,a sign of the ghost of the woman you were, and it made you trust him, take a liking towards him.

Trust was so hard to find these days, you thought while rubbing your arm nervously, contemplating whether to leave or take a step to him. For so long, you never trusted anyone. You survived on your own and you were fine, and when you did, that person had to betray you with one secret you had and gave you to the Fireflies.

You were lucky that Tommy was there and saw how shitty the humans had become, saved you and brought you here or else, you would have been dead as well.

Ever since then, he tried to get you out of your shell little by little, alongside with Maria. They always told you to never put yourself in danger for others, that you were more than a weapon and had to rest and though it was hard to do so, you slowly did. But never forgot what trusting someone brought you...

The darker side of your story that you didn’t tell Ellie.

But...

Joel opened his eye at feeling your smaller hands touch his arm that held the bridge of his nose and his breath got caught, heart beated a little bit faster at the look you gave him. It was two things that he hadn’t had the luxury of having for fifty years: Understanding and sympathy.

“It’s okay, Joel... These days have been hard for you, I understand. I need to go to my patrol anyways, so if you wish, you and Ellie can come and sleep in my house until we fix everything with yours tomorrow with Tommy.”

She never offers her help so outly, Tommy words again rang in his mind and for a second he thought Tommy lied to him because here you were, standing before the sinner of a man he was, looking like an angel even with the tired eyes you had, offering him your help. He was no amateur, he was aware that many people held their distance their own walls to protect themselves and neither he nor you were an exception. He saw how you reacted when someone clashed your walls, how you protected it like a soldier protecting his country.

So you can imagine how it was to see you slowly lower your walls around him, though hesitantly. Had you not done that, you wouldn’t be standing close to him here, in the middle of the road when no one was around, you skin touching his, and invite him for a drink. And for some reasons, that brought a happiness to him. One that made him open his eyes trully and that was when his thoughts started to linger on you, rather than your personality.

You were... beautiful.

That single thought was enough to make him completely stop, and slowly look down to your innocent eyes and the smile you wore whenever you saw something you liked. Fuck, he couldn’t help but curse. First he did the unimaginable and apologized to someone and now just days later, he was fancying that someone. He felt like a pervert, with you being at least 15 years younger than him but...

It was just pure attraction... right?

Not because he admired you...

While he was deep in his thoughts, of course he didn’t realize you were getting restless and worried that you did something wrong by touching him. You remembered how it used to bring comfort to your sisters and friends and thought it would help.

The awkwardness between you two killed each other. Joel didn’t know what to say after saying something he never saw himself actually uttering, and you never expected to get close to the man so suddenly. It had been like a week since they came and you didn’t want to be seen desperate for a man so much so that you tried to seduce one you saw on the road after denying everyone’s advances to you.

And besides... None of you spoke again after apologizing at the same time. It was expected from him, he was bad with words and mostly grunted in answer, fortunately, it was you who spoke first.

“Why the heck are you apologizing? I’m the one who has been a dick to you when you were about be sadwiched between fuckers who can’t even throw a decent fist.” You said, slowly retreating your hand back from his arm, which he already missed having from the warmth it gave, and chuckled to your answer. It was true that they were shit at fighting but the way you said it oh-so-knowingly reminded him of how Tommy and Sarah would roast him.

No wonder you and Ellie get along well...

“We both have been dicks to each other, no? And I know you don’t have a patrol to do... If I made you uncomfortable just say-“

“You didn’t, Joel and God, stop analyzing me... How are you so good at this?”

He chuckled and leaned back on his chair, feeling at ease after a long time and relaxed with a nice stretch. “I think it’s a dad thing... And why did you apologize to me? I was the one who insulted you.”

Yep, here we go...

You took a deep breath, preparing yourself for the storm to come and spat out what has been bugging you. “I apologized because I didn’t know you also lost someone dear... that you lost your daughter.”

Joel’s eyes hardened, jaw clenched at the mere mention of Sarah. He never expected you to know about her, probably a result of Tommy telling about him to you, and even bring the mention of her so suddenly. He felt the nauseous feeling, hus mouth completely drying and suddenly he slammed a hand and tried to move past your sitting form, wanting to get away, all thoughts about being nice temporarily leaving his mind. “I don’t need an apology and don’t act and look at me like you understand-“

“I can never understand loosing a child, Joel... I have never been a mother, or anything close to that title. But I know how it feels like to watch blood of your blood die before you, unable to help because you are just so terrified to see the death close to you when you always thought that you would be the first one to go.”

Joel was startled at your weak voice, so much so that he stopped right before getting out, his anger leaving his body and making him turn back to you, eyeing you for a while. Now that he, once again, set his anger aside, he just remembered everything he worked hard for.

How hard he worked for Sarah...

How he worked hard to survive...

How he worked hard to save Tess...

How he worked hard to find the courage to apologize...

And he didn’t achieve any of it.

“I... fuck, I’m sorry Y/N. It wasn’t my intention-“ he exclaimed, ashamed and sad at how his anger took over him and made him forget about your own fair shair of trauma.

“It’s fine... I understand.” You mumbled and finished the rest of your beer, sitting there contemplating whether you shoul go or not. You lied to yourself that it didn’t affect you, that it was just as hard for you to talk about your family as it was hard for him, but Joel was a good observant and he saw you biting down on your lip hard, drawing blood. He grunted angrily at himself, brushing his hair back and walked back to sit next to you defeatedly.

You watched how the stern man slowly crumbled, how his eyes slowly had tears and how he brought his left hand in front of him to look at his watch. You supposed it was a gift from his daughter, and felt like throwing up at reminding him of the pain.

But, if there was one thing you remembered from your previous life in modern world, it was to keep going talking about the pain.

He already reminisced about her and the pain had already resurfaced, it was best to let him grieve openly.

“Was that a gift from her?” you pointed to the watch with your head, wanting to learn who he was before this ans seeing if you trully were alike. He chuckled under his breath, amused that it was obvious that the watch was picked by a female and he was sure that Sarah would have made fun of him.

“Yeah... Feels stupid how even after years, I can’t let go of her.”

“You don’t have to, Joel. I’m sure that she is very proud of you...” you comforted him, rubbing his shoulder and he turned his head at you with a broken look. It had been so long that he felt the comfort of another one, since he talked about that night and he welcomed your warm hands and soft look with a longing.

Even if he didn’t deserve it.

“You don’t know the things I did, kid...” The only answer you gave was a knowing smile. “ Trust me, Joel, you weren’t the only one who did unethical things to survive. And you are also not the only one who couldn’t let go of the past.”

He watched you take out a little box from your pocket hesitantly and set in on the table, opening it to reveal different kinds of stones and necklaces inside. He tilted his head curiously at you, not understanding why you were opening up to him when you spoke with a far-away look. “My sisters were a bunch of little monsters, always jumping around and finding extraordinary things. Their hyper fixations were necklaces and stones and... they used to collect them to put in here. It’s the one thing I can’t let go...”

“Seems like they had a good eye catching shiny things.” He hoped his attempt at joking wouldn’t end up bad, and he sighed in relief when a snort left you and you turned your eyes to look at him. The moonlight now shone on his face, contrasting with the warm hues of the lightning inside the bar, and the way he looked at you as if you two were the center of the world made butterflies erupt in you, eyes shyly looking down on the box while a flustered smile broke out on your face.

“It seems your daughter also has a sense of fashion, seems like she was a daddy’s girl...” he chuckled at your flustered face and looked down on the wrist watch, remembering his last moments with Sarah and feeling touched at you referring to her “in the present tense” as if she was still there.

And maybe she was. She always talked about how people’s soul would accompany their loved ones to comfort them and he desperately hoped that it was true, even though he always made fun of her always watching dramatic movies.

Because God knew, he needed it.

He couldn’t help but think that she would have liked you, and always hang around you much like Ellie. He wished she was there, he wished your sisters were there too...

He wished none of this happened.

But now, in the middle of a dying world, in a bar, he thought that maybe, that was God’s way of giving him a kind of peace.

A second chance...

A way to redeem himself and finally make amends. He looked at you, with his eyes filled with a new determination. Though it was fast, trusting you with all of his being, he saw how good of a heart you had. How much you sacrificed to be here.

I swear, you will not be one of those I lost...

“If that’s okay... What's her name?”

And now, looking at the way you carefully chose your words while talking to him, bringing him something else to drink, he knew that maybe, he could get along with you...

Friends, as Ellie called it.

“It was Sarah, here.”

And while you two spent the rest of the night drinking and telling each other of your pasts, you supposed that even in the most dire terms, humans would always be able to live, as long as they held hope and what made them humans.

Love and care.

Trust...

Hope...

You two’s story didn’t start good maybe, both of you trying to kill the other, but looking at the gruff man trusting you with his most important secret and talking fondly of Sarah and even including your sisters, you realized that you both were just two broken souls trying to heal themselves.

He, with Ellie, and you, with Adelaine.

And who knew maybe, by some chance, you could get along with him too. Here, in Jackson, was peaceful and quiet and it was time to build a safe place amongst all the chaos going on outside...

In rememberance for those who you both lost on the way.

But Jackson was a quiet place in an apocalyptic world, where there were eyes that watched you and waited for a chance to attack.

Not that you would know...

[shay-j-scribbles]

Soaked

Hotch puts himself in harm's way during a case. And the newness of their relationship makes it hard for Emily to know how to react.

Rating: T | Words: 1k

Read on Ao3 or below

There wasn’t enough scalding water in the world to wash away the gruesome images seared into her mind from that day. Heinous nerves bubbled monstrously in her gut, an incessant churn that no amount of Macy Gray blasting through the bathroom could drown out. She leaned her forehead against the cool tiles, desperate for solace since she first stepped into the blistering stream. She willed her mind to forget, to bury it all beneath the scorching cascade, but her heart... that vexatious, treacherous mound of pulsing muscle, clung stubbornly to every harrowing detail. It wouldn't let her escape the memory of holding her breath for what felt like an eternity, suspended in a moment of unbearable dread.

The conclusion of a case, a day in the field, can end in several ways, but the ones that conclude amid a frenzy of firefighters, police officers, paramedics—every emergency service imaginable—working in desperate harmony around the piercing wail of sirens and a cacophony of frightened voices... It’s a tempest of urgency and fear, a frantic ballet of life-saving efforts against a backdrop of raw human panic.

When a swarm of people yell, scream, and plead for help, even the leaders can get overwhelmed, unsure of what needs to be done and who needs what. It’s utter chaos, a disorienting whirlwind where even the most seasoned professionals can lose their way amidst the desperate cries and clamour for assistance.

Everything and anything needed to be done after the explosion. JJ went one way, Reid went another, and Hotch… as soon as he heard the anguished cries of a father calling out for his son still trapped inside, everything went south. The chaos split them apart, each racing against time.

Emily shakes away the recollection, pressing her head even more firmly against the cool shower wall before switching off the firm stream of water. She doesn't move right away, taking a moment to focus on her breathing. Inhaling and exhaling heavily six or seven times, she finally pushes off the wall to stand straight. She wraps herself in the fluffy white towel and doesn't bother to dry her hair, leaving the long tendrils soaked and dripping as she walks to the darkened bedroom.

“You didn’t wait for me.” Hotch's voice is low, almost a whisper, as he sits on the made bed.

“I needed to shower,” she said, clearing her throat, and making a beeline to the drawer they recently designated hers at his place, barely sparing him a glance. He doesn't speak a word as she rifles aimlessly through her possessions. She can’t look at him, not yet.

“I can see that. But if you waited, I could have driven-”

Irritated, she slams her drawer closed swiftly and bites, “You don’t think I know that?”

When she swivels around on the balls of her feet to face him, he’s standing with his hands raised defensively. Then there’s that silence she usually enjoys with him, but right now it feels like a high-pitched scream demanding to be heard.

Her voice trembles with a mix of hurt and frustration. "You could have gotten hurt. Did you even think about that?"

Hotch meets her gaze evenly, his jaw set in that stubborn way she both loves and hates. "I had it under control."

"Control? You call that control?" She gestures angrily towards him. 

“I didn’t mean to scare you,” he yells back, their energies match but guilt laces his tone.

She scoffs, rolling her eyes to the ceiling and away from him. “You didn’t scare me,” she says unconvincingly.

Truth be told, she was terrified when Hotch ran off to assist the firemen with a young boy trapped under the rubble. He waltzed into that burning building without a single moment of hesitation, and her heart stopped as she called out to him. She looked around at her team, seeing their equally startled faces, but what startled her most was how quickly her subconscious urged her to go after him. Her legs started to run in the same direction, though she never made it far.

Morgan’s arms gripped around her middle like a vice, holding her in place and assuring her that Hotch would be fine, that he’d have it under control. But she couldn’t have been less convinced.

What Hotch did was undeniably brave and everything she expected him to do, but God, reality smacked her in the gut when she realised he could get hurt.

Then she heard firefighters muttering that the building was going to collapse, that the south walls were so unstable they would crumble any second. She and the rest of the team were ushered back and told to hurry and get out of the way. Emily’s heart battered inside her chest, bruising every inch of her rib cage, as her eyes remained glued to the small opening Hotch had entered. But he still wasn’t coming out.

The air crackles with silence as he allows her emotions to settle, effortlessly piercing through her towering walls.

"I'm sorry," he whispers. For all of it. For the case, for not seeing that she needed time alone, for yelling...

“Okay,” she admits softly, tears welling up in her eyes. “You scared me. You really fucking scared me.” He frowns, starting to apologise again, but she cuts him off. “But don’t apologise for saving a life. Please.”

Hotch made it out with mere seconds to spare, carrying most of the boy’s weight as they scurried to safety. When Emily caught a glimpse of his face, the breath she’d been holding hostage in her lungs finally escaped, much like the soft sob that erupted from the back of her throat as she bent towards the ground, her worry released at the sight of him.

“I won’t,” he said truthfully. “But I am sorry for worrying you all. I didn’t even blink. Dave has already ripped me a new one. You’d think he was my boss.”

Emily laughed softly, leaning into him. “Good. Saves me having to do it then.”

“Thank God,” he says, letting his shoulders slump in relief.

Emily closes the space between them, stepping into his arms tentatively, her arms reaching up to loop around his neck. Hotch reciprocates fully, linking his wrists together at the base of her spine.

“But if you ever do that again,” she mumbles into his shoulder, “I’ll kill you myself.”

He snorts, dropping a chaste, firm-lipped kiss on her damp hairline. They chuckle softly together. “Deal.”

[dazeddazai]

She was alone, as per usual; lights out, tables cleaned, bottles set in rows. Only the moonlight peered through the half tinted windows, filling the room with a cool, waxen glow— coating the wood in pale translucence as if strained through melted silk.

The bar had been closed for quite some time; dust hung in the air uninterrupted, save for at the corner of the room where Makino sat, eyes downcast, teetering on the edge of fatigue. The better part of her judgment implored her to make her way up the weathered staircase and into her bedroom, near forgotten, but she stayed seated and silent— drifting off to the sea salt breeze.

The table in front of her lay empty, with the exception of a clear water glass. It bore, in its wake, a single white snowdrop and a pale yellow marigold. The snowdrop had long faded— spine curved and threads snapped into split ends; it lay on its last life, drinking from the glass in earnest— the final breath of hope, undistilled. 

It had been a year since she had seen him last— the promise of return etched deep into her lips as he had bade her goodbye.

“Wait for me,” he had whispered in earnest, “I’ll be back for you as soon as I can.”

But as soon as he could had turned into weeks, then into months, and still Makino sat into the late hours of the night, lashed glazed with sleep-coated tears.

It was hard not to worry when she knew of the danger that lay in the shadows of his journey. The perilous exploits of the infamous few drew the attention of the masses— making for rowdy conversations amongst the bottles of dry mead— and though she tried to tune it out, the name of the man she longed for was no stranger to every household on the island.

Before long, Makino could no longer read the paper without feeling a hint of restlessness. Dread clouded her thoughts and overtook her mind, and soon, to preserve her faith, she did away with the news all together. Instead, she reread his letters and thumbed through the memories that he had left behind, tainted with the ink blots of forgetfulness and frosted over with the scenes of her own imagination. 

She spent days— weeks, even, in her head, all at once— so much so that she could barely make out the reality of everyday life. Customers came and went in flashes of sound and color, but she barely registered their presence until they were slumbling from the bar, a drunken farewell lost upon their lips. 

“I’m sorry I’m late.”

Makino started and looked up from the table. Her breath caught in her throat. 

Shanks stood in the doorway, relaxed and charming- a relic of the memories that she had been living in for almost a year. She stood up, almost knocking the chair to the floor. She wanted to run to him, to embrace him without a single care in the world, but she could not will her body forward- scared that if she moved too close, he would vanish into thin air. 

Instead, she composed herself, and after a brief hiccup in time, she spoke.

“Where were you off to this time?” She asked, trying to squash the unintentional shaking of her unpracticed voice with an uneven smile. “Somewhere dangerous along the Grand Line, I’d imagine.”

Shanks returned her smile and shook his head.

“Visiting an old friend. Making sure that my affairs are well in order.”

“Well in order for what?”

He didn’t answer but instead turned to face the bar. 

“How is everything over here?” He asked, “Does the old man still come around to visit from time to time?

“Sometimes— when he’s not busy.”

“And the boy?”

“He looks more like you with every passing day.”

“That’s nice,” he replied, and Makino felt a lump form in her throat. 

​​"Could you just hold me for a while?" She whispered. “Just once, before you leave?”

Shanks smiled soft— gentle and contrite.

“I’m afraid I can’t do that.” 

“I miss you. Everyday.” She said, and then there were tears tumbling freely down her cheeks. “I miss you so much that I can’t breathe.”

“I know,” He replied, voice husky. “I know and I’m sorry.”

“Won’t you stay? Just a little while longer?”

“I’ll stay for as long as you need me to.”

“I love you.” She whispered, her voice breaking upon the last syllable. “I’ll always love you.”

Shanks gazed at her, eyes soft and clouded—

“I know you will.”

“Will you ever come back?”

He paused before answering. Then, reaching out and grazing the snowdrop, he said-

“I think today has to be the last time.”

As he spoke, Makino noticed that the snowdrop had finally fallen from the stem. It lay, wilted and white- now no more than a relic to be brushed off the table and onto the floor. 

“What if- what if I’m not able to let you go?” She said, her voice smaller than it had ever been. 

Shanks didn’t answer. Instead, he stood up and began to make his way towards the door. 

“I’ll be waiting for you.” He said simply, “Come for me whenever you’re ready-” 

Then, before she knew it, he was gone just as quickly as he had come.

Makino awoke slowly to the moon shining through the open door. With all the effort that she could muster in her neglected body, she pushed herself up and began to make her way to the staircase. She could barely remember what she had dreamed about last, but she could feel the trail of stale tears, etched upon her cheeks.

As she walked past the bar, all she saw was a blur of stained glass mixed with molten light- a light that cast its gaze upon a single cockled paper, stained in salt, breaking the news of what she had feared so long ago.

[kingedmundsroyalmurder]

Blue Castle Book Club 2.0 - Chapter 4

Another very short chapter, which serves to introduce us to Valancy’s dreams. We know her fantasies already, but here we learn her actual, realistic dreams. She wants a pretty house of her own. What she gets instead is, “The Stirling house was the ugliest on it—more like a red brick box than anything else. Too high for its breadth, and made still higher by a bulbous glass cupola on top. About it was the desolate, barren peace of an old house whose life is lived.”

Like the trinkets and decorations in Valancy’s room, the house in which she lives is old and spent and long ago lost any charm it might have had. Valancy’s world is not one in which you grow old gracefully. It is one in which you crumble into dust while everyone around you pretends that nothing has changed. It’s neglect masquerading as politeness. It’s the future that is in store for Valancy herself – unmarried, unloved, growing older but not being permitted to actually grow and change.

Colors mentioned

Grey flannel petticoat

Red brick box

Castle of pale sapphire

Once again, the only remotely interesting color going on is imaginary.

Blue Castle Book Club 2.0 - Chapter 5

Uncle Benjamin has entered the narrative!

One thing Maud is making sure to emphasize over and over is that Valancy’s problem is not that she is ignored by her family. That would, in fact, be preferable. It would absolutely be dreadful for her to spend her birthday like any other day because everyone around her has forgotten that it’s her birthday. But instead, Valancy spends her birthday like any other day while being constantly reminded that it is her birthday. Her family is acutely aware that it’s her birthday, and they spare no effort to remind her that they remember. But at no point do any of them do anything with the fact that they remember except taunt her. Valancy’s birthday, like every single other thing about her, is used as a weapon against her by her own family.

But we’re starting to see a shift. Valancy has realized she can’t live in fantasy anymore, which means she has to live in reality. But living in reality means having to actually experience all the things she spent so long living in fantasy to avoid. If you can’t retreat into your own imagination when your uncle says wretched things to you, then you have to actually listen to the wretched things he is saying, and it turns out that Valancy doesn’t have nearly as much patience for nonsense when she has to actually listen to it.

Young Valancy not having something that she wants and that everyone else has and stoutly declaring that she didn’t want it anyway is such a relatable moment. I have absolutely been there. It’s not a great place to be.

We meet Dr. Stalling, who is yet another adult that could have reached out to Valancy and didn’t. I can sort of see his version of the story, where there was a comedic mixup that caused no lasting harm. But to believe that requires him to pay absolutely no attention to Valancy herself, who doesn’t seem to have much of a poker face. Oh, she laughs when she’s supposed to, but it never seems like she’s putting any actual effort into the fiction of being amused. But no one around her cares enough to actually bother looking, so she gets by with weak chuckles. And with Dr. Stalling, she doesn’t even pretend to laugh. It’s not clear whether he noticed that or not, but it is clear that he did not feel the need to apologize for his part in her humiliation.

(Also Dr. Stalling could have asked for the “boy’s” name while scolding him and that would have cleared up several things.)

Another John Foster passage, this one directly called out as thematic by the narrative. I will admit to being extremely curious how fear being the original sin ties in to birds, but I think it’s probably more amusing to speculate than to actually find out the answer.

Colors mentioned

Black-haired

Blue glasses

Also purple pills, but that’s a proper noun rather than a descriptor so I’m not counting it, the same way I’ve stopped counting Blue Castle.

[emerald-notes]

Noona! Please! Help! - Part 1

Fandom: BTS Characters: Younger Brothers BTS and Elder Sister Narrator Genre: A Little Dramatic and A Little Comedic Word Count: 1.7K Words Warning: Mention of BTS crackhead behaviors (I mean, why not? We all love their crackheadness), sickness, economic crisis, broken family, mention of emotional abuse, characters death etc. Note: It’s a siblings AU story of BTS with the narrator as their elder sister. I tried to write something different from what I usually write about. I had fun making this. Hope it makes you feel good too. Happy Reading Everyone :)

Summary: Her little brothers can’t attend to a single task without her help. Be it a dance competition or asking out a girl for a date, they always seem to be finding everything too hard to go through without her by their side. ‘Our lucky charm’; that’s what they like to call her. But what if she turns out to be a misfortune in different situations in one single day?

Part 1 - Part 2 - Part 3 - Part 4 - More to come

Prologue:

I always wonder when Ma said that she wanted a big family the day Pa had asked her to marry him, if she had really meant it like a family of ten people. But one thing was clear. Pa took her words to his heart and fulfilled her dream without compromise.

The struggle of being the elder sister of seven messy and chaotic brothers can be something impossible to even imagine. Especially if you are growing up in a household where both your parents are too sweet to ever scold their children.

I wish I could be that person who can easily punish her younger siblings when they misbehave. But alas! God had other plans. He made sure that my seven precious brothers were treated kindly by my parents to the point of being spoiled.

Now don’t get the wrong idea. My brothers are not all spoiled brats. In fact, most of them grew up to be gentlemen. At least, in front of the people that matters. But when they are home together with no one to supervise them, they are the biggest crackheads to ever exist.

Even if they give me headaches that are almost similar to that of the migraine pain my best friend suffers from (I said ‘almost’ because no pain compares to her evil migraine, trust me!) the moment I look into their eyes, I can’t bring myself to be mean. I think they have somehow mastered the art of creating the most innocent puppy eyes that melts my heart within seconds.

I think I am giving you the wrong idea all along. It's actually because I can’t express my frustration with my naughty angels in real life. So, it is making me pour out all the complaints here in texts all at once. Maybe it's time for a proper chronological introduction of them. And I will not make you wait any longer.

Kim Seok Jin:

The eldest and the handsomest, as he likes to be called, is none other than our Kim Seok Jin. “Just call me Jin. It sounds cool.” as our prince had once said. So, it had been maintained by everyone without a word. After all, he’s the hyung of the pack.

Three years younger than me, acts like the maknae more than the maknae does himself, Jin never fails to crack a joke at every family event. His sense of humor is unlike any other. No one would agree that his dad jokes are ever really funny. But you would never catch them not laughing even whenever Jin made one of his lamest jokes. My personal belief is that the mystery lies within Jin’s own laughing sound.

Kim Yoon Gi:

The only one who dares not to laugh, when the others are ready to roll on the ground, is our second eldest hyung, Yoongi. He even managed to come into this world as early as possible after Jin so that only nine months is their age difference.

My grandma used to tell a touching story of how my mother had lost her beloved cat during her pregnancy when she carried Yoongi. That’s how he ended up getting her cat’s name. Yoongi lives up to his name too. He looks like a cat, acts like a cat and I feel that he even thinks like a cat.

Kim Ho Seok:

Oldest by only seven minutes among the first set of twins mother gave birth to, Hoseok is the sunshine of our family. His bright spirit and reckless laugh puts everyone at ease. It is as if he had taken the responsibility of always keeping the good vibes in the family.

However, his angry side is just as scary. Nobody wants to deal with an angry Hoseok. Nobody! Not Jin, not me, not even Ma and Pa.

Kim Nam Joon:

Hoseok’s twin Namjoon is the brain of the team. Who said that it is always the middle child who gets ignored all the time? Namjoon proves every single one of them wrong. It is always Namjoon who comes to the conversation first whenever a relative of ours asks about us.

With all that demeanor like an older child, both physically and mentally, Namjoon still has a very childish side of him. That child is the God of destruction who breaks everything it touches. These contradictory qualities had earned him his nickname, ‘Giant-baby’.

Kim Ji Min:

The second set of twins produced Jimin as the oldest. Jimin, the comforter. Jimin, the lovely. And definitely Jimin, the flirt.

If cringe could be a person, he would be Jimin. He never shies away from his emotions. “Did I mention that I love you?” is something you would often hear him say. Even though others pretend to throw up at his words of affirmations, they have to agree that they can’t help liking it secretly.

Kim Taehyung:

Jimin’s soulmate, born with a face of a Greek God, Kim Taehyung runs the fashion industry in our home. “That lipstick doesn’t suit your eye makeup” , “The shoes made your whole fit cheap”, “Try to wear that and everyone will think you’re going through a breakup.” Taehyung doesn’t care to point them out.

Taehyung lives in his own world. Not in his mind exactly. I think it is an invisible world that coexists with ours. Because most of the time, we question his behavior and sometimes his sanity too.

Kim Jungkook:

The golden maknae, also the only one having a two years age difference with his closest elder hyung, is our bunny boy Jungkook. At first sight, everyone would think he’s the high school heartthrob. But once you get to know him, you’ll know how shy he is in front of strangers.

Whatever shyness he has in him, he uses them all outside our home. Because inside it’s always, “Party! Party! Yeah!” And that party is always him alone in his room doing karaoke till it's 3 in the morning. But who’s to scold him for that?

The reason behind each of their varying personalities, I believe, is because we grew up in different households as children. Is it even surprising? Do you think it is really possible for two people to take care of eight kids without help? The answer to this question may be a little complicated.

But my parents were determined to raise their kids by themselves so that none of them ever feels left out. And they did it too, for almost 8 years. But Ma fell ill right after giving birth to Jungkook. And Pa was having some financial crisis at the same time. As it has been said 'Bad things come in threes', Jungkook was born with some complications.

So, Pa had to focus on him and him alone. It was still hard for Pa to do it without Ma by his side. That's when I decided to take charge of taking care of the youngest while Pa looked after Ma and his business. I know I was only 8 years old at the time, but our situation had forced me to be more mature than that.

After some discussions on our wellbeing and the family's economic condition, Ma and Pa decided to keep Jungkook and me only. They told me that it was only for the time being and that they would bring everyone together as soon as they could.

Poor Jimin and Taehyung had no idea when they were sent to live with Granma and Granpa. I learned later that little Tae had continually cried for days and Jimin had grown too quiet for a two year old.

Namjoon and Hoseok were sent to stay with Ma's elder sister, her husband and her little daughter who was just about the age of the twins. As far as the report went, I'm positive that among all my brothers they got to stay a little happier away from home.

The one who suffered the most was probably Yoongi. Being too innocent for this world, Pa had failed to recognise how cruel his brother's behavior could sometimes get. Maybe growing up with an emotionally unavailable adult made Yoongi the most outwardly cold. Mind you that I said 'outwardly' because I'm sure if you can see through his heart, you will find something quite the opposite.

Jin stayed with Pa's sister who had been raising kids her whole life. All of her kids were older than Jin. So I guess it's easier to understand why Jin acts like a maknae all the time.

The idea of bringing them home 'as soon as possible' remained an idea. Because by the time Pa had somehow managed to get into a reliable position with his business, Ma was gone. And Pa had no other choice but to follow her.

Since it would be impossible for a 13 year old to be taking care of her 5 year old brother on her own, Granma decided to take us to her as well. So, we were reunited with Tae and Jimin in her house.

One by one, my little brothers turned 18 and built their own life. Even though I am now a full grown 25 year old woman I still couldn't leave my granma's house. And it is because I couldn't give up on being a parent to the youngest who has still not crossed the line of 18.

"Just wait for one more year and I'll grow up and thrive in this world." Jungkook says that quite a lot lately. Even though it might sound a little selfish, I wish my Jungkookie never grew up. So that I could keep him all to myself like I had been doing for the past 17 years of my life.

But there is a bright side of them finally turning 18. One by one the hyung line among my brothers started to get in touch with me more and more frequently. Finally, after years of separation, I truly feel like I'm getting to be that older sister that I had to be. And I'm happy that they are allowing me to be just that.

You might get a little confused as to why I had complained about them in the beginning of this story as if they were little kids I have to look after when I didn't even get to live with them for that long. Let me get you out of this confusion. It's because now that I finally get to be close enough once again, I realized one very important fact that applies to them all. My brothers haven't really grown up.

Next >

My Masterlist

[acebytaemin]

already sent one with MY name however.. if you want to... Perhaps the name jonghyun deserves a little shoutout in playlist form 🫶🏻🩵

please this is so 🥹 ofc. let’s hope we do it justice come on now!

J - juice by shinee (the way he could jump on that track and devour it with seemingly zero effort. also i have a feeling he’d love it the song the choreo everything)

O - our page by shinee (ah do i even need to elaborate. the entire chorus when all four of them sing together: ‘the beautiful words you've left behind / are like a poem and have become a song / we raise our voices high / knowing that it'll reach up to where you are / when the stars fade, will it all be forgotten? / you were so special to me, so I hold you close / this page in the novel has yet to end / i want to stay together until the end’)

N - neverland by holland (honestly anything by holland just to have him know there’s an openly gay kpop artist like. can you imagine his reaction oh i can’t think abt it too much right now but. yeah.)

G - GUILTY BY TAEMIN (YOU KNOW HE’D GO FAWKING CRAZY FOR IT HE’D BE DOING THE GUILTY CHALLENGE EVERY SECOND of every day like can you not see this guy decked out in metamorph merch screaming his lungs off when taem shows up hanging from the ceiling oh i can literally see it clear as day) (honorary mention to gravity by shinee <33333)

H - heartbreak by minho (COMPLETION OF THE SHINEE PLAGIARISM SERIES!!! ace base face voice chase BABYYYYY ❤️‍🔥❤️‍🔥❤️‍🔥❤️‍🔥❤️‍🔥)

Y - you & i by shinee (this song makes me cry literally every single time. it’s out of this world how much they love him and i really really would want him to hear the part that goes something like ‘i know you meant it when you told me to take care / i’ll let you go easy, please don’t think you’re stepping on me/hurting me’)

U - universe by exo (this and been through from the same album.. no elaborating if you know you know 💙)

N - neverending story by skz (selfish reasoning bc skznee agenda is always on plus he loved ballads and this is one of my favorite ballads)

[apureniallsource]

Niall Horan is just getting started.

From his days as a boy bander (ever heard of One Direction?), to branching out as a solo artist in 2016, to now leading a team of hopeful musicians as a coach on NBC’s The Voice while gearing up to release his third album, Horan has experienced more in his career than most musicians could ever dream of. Now 13 years in, he’s hitting a new stride—and leading the show all on his own. “As I grow up, I understand myself as an artist more and more,” he told VMAN last month. “I’m getting to that place now where I know what I’m good at, and I know what sounds good on me.”

Horan has had plenty of time to play around with his sound. His second album, Heartbreak Weather—which was an experimental foray into heartbreak pop and a solid departure from his folksy 2017 debut, Flicker—was released in March 2020, just as the world slowed to a halt for the pandemic. Instead of feeling sorry about the timing, Horan took his sudden stretch of free time and got to work on album number three, The Show, which comes out on June 9. In fact, the major source of inspiration for The Show came to Horan shortly after Heartbreak Weather’s release, when an Instagram Live with his fans caused him to rethink a concept he’d already written. “I looked back and saw that ‘the show’ was something I’d had written down for a long time, but I never really knew what that meant until we were in the pandemic,” he explained. “And then it was clear to me that life is like a show. That’s what it is: it’s ups and downs, goods and bads.”

In many ways, the album reflects that. Horan dances around the joys of being in love and the pains of anxiety and finds his groove throughout the album’s 10 tracks. And as he settles into this new era, he feels reinvigorated as an artist: “I want to play arenas. I want to play packed shows every night. And I want to work my ass off to make sure that I get there.”

VMAN sat down with Horan to talk about the making of ‘The Show’, and his new singles “Meltdown” and “Heaven.”

VMAN: Congrats on the second single, “Meltdown.” You also have your first single, “Heaven,” which is just such a catchy song. When did you write that one, and did you always know that it would be the first single?

Niall Horan: Yeah, to be honest. When we first did it, I was like, “God, this is it. It’s going to be tough to beat this one.” I wrote it in June or July of last year in Joshua Tree with a few friends of mine. I felt like I’d been missing something like that in the record, and I wanted to write that concept, so I just went for it and it kind of just popped out. I’d been singing the chorus melody for a couple of days, or at least the first couple of lines of it, and I wasn’t really sure what the hell it was until one of the guys started playing the chords, and I was like, “I know what this is. I’m gonna sing over that.” And then the concept really fell into place then afterwards.

VM: Is that pretty typical of your songwriting process?

NH: I mean, there’s one song in the record that I wrote in under an hour, and it was like, the words just came flying out. I just knew what the concept was going to sound like, if you know what I mean. But there are other times, like, I had this piano line forever for “Never Grow Up,” but it was just about finding what the song meant conceptually, and what lyrics go with that. Most of the time, I like to have a good idea of what I’m going to say, so I write a story out. If it’s a dark song, it’s probably going to be a ballad. But sometimes, it’s the opposite. Like, there’s “Meltdown,” that’s 170 BPM, very up-tempo, but it’s actually about anxiety.

VM: Every song on the album feels really unguarded, if that’s the right word for it. How do you let yourself get into that headspace to be so introspective and vulnerable when you’re writing? I can’t imagine it’s easy.

NH: It used to be really hard for me to do that. You just have to do it in a way where people understand what you’re saying, instead of being so introspective that you’re writing every little detail of your life, and people are like, “what are you even talking about.” So you want to relate to everyone, but it can be tough to get yourself to that point. I used to worry about being asked about stuff in interviews…I thought about writing about certain things and just knowing I was going to be asked about that forever.

VM: Yeah, hard to kind of walk that line I guess. Would you say music has always been the way that you’ve channeled your feelings?

NH: Yeah, I do a lot of writing. And sometimes, it turns into songs, sometimes it doesn’t, but I try to write stuff down. This is the most cliché thing that anyone’s ever said, but sometimes is like a form of therapy. I don’t go to therapy, but I do when I sit down and play the guitar, you know?

VM: So would you say then that overall, the album reflects where you are in your life right now?

NH: Yeah, I think it’s the best reflection for sure. Even when I listen to it now, it’s got like everything that I feel two years later, sonically, lyrically, and conceptually. It’s all there.

VM: How did you land on The Show as the album title? I know you have the song by the same name, but what does that phrase mean to you?

NH: The title came before the song, to be fair. Back then, I was taking down notes all the time. I’ve got 101,270 voice notes, I checked earlier. And I looked back and saw that “the show” was something I’d had written down for a long time, but I never really knew what that meant until we were in the pandemic. And then it was clear that life is like a show. That’s what it is: it’s ups and downs, goods and bads. And that felt like a good strong concept to me in terms of sitting down to write an album. And once I’d written the song called “The Show,” I felt like alright, I’m off to the races here a little bit. It just kind of fell into place like that.

VM: So “The Show” was the first song you wrote for the album?

NH: It was, yeah. It was like a 1 a.m. Instagram Live with my fans in the pandemic, because we weren’t going anywhere, you know. I wrote the first verse of the song, and then the whole album just made sense from that. It’s a hard one to describe, how it just came about.

VM: Sonically, then, how do you think you’ve evolved in the three years since Heartbreak Weather?

NH: I’ve really started to bring my influences—the stuff that I listen to—into play now. The stuff that I’m into from the ‘70s is coming into play a lot with all the big, bright background vocals that you hear throughout the album.

VM: Switching gears a bit, you obviously got your start on The X Factor. Now being a coach on The Voice, I’m curious if that aligns with what you thought it would be like to be a judge, back when you were a contestant on The X Factor?

NH: I was like a deer in the headlights, back in the day. There’s loads of famous people who have got your future in their hands, and I was still just taken aback by the fact that I was on a big TV show every Saturday night. I was just loving that we were having such a great time, so I didn’t really look at it from the other side. Now, knowing that I have people’s future in my hands is a scary prospect. I have to make really tough decisions about people leaving the competition, losing team members, stuff like that. I can now understand what it would have been like for those people who had to make decisions on my behalf and my future. Apart from that, it’s just an absolute blast. We spend all of our time laughing, on and off camera. The banter between all the coaches is so good.

VM: So, festival season is coming up, and you’re playing at quite a few. First of all, what are you most looking forward to with that, and second of all, do you think that playing for a festival audience is going to be different from a more traditional concert audience?

NH: I’m so excited for festivals—I’m a huge festival-goer. And I always get jealous when I’m watching the artists on stage, just thinking that I’d love to be up there looking at that sea of people. So, I’m looking forward to doing that. But I also see it as a challenge to try and get some new fans, because I’ve been that drunk guy walking around the field looking for the bar, and then walking past the stage and there’s someone up there playing and all of a sudden, I’m listening to their music online. I’ve done that so many times at festivals.

VM: You’ve got to get the people who are in the back getting food or something.

NH: Exactly. Hopefully, the guy going to the bar looking for a drink or whatever might stick around, then might listen to me online, and then might even buy my new record. You never know.

[0ddityyy]

Sometimes character creation takes ten minutes to initially get ✨ the feel ✨, but then three-to-four years to actually develop said character past “teehee golden retriever boy teehee” (see Oscar), or “you know those spoiled, all-pink brats in those 2017 gacha mini movies? yeah, that’s her, but i wanna be cleAR SHES NOT WHITE IM NOT BASIC I PROMISE” (see Darla), “brat’s brother. idk i needed more characters. his name is literally supposed to mean ‘brother’ because my braincell suddenly stopped coming up with coolass names like with every single one of my girl characters” (see Brody).

Sometimes character creation takes years of overlooking said character’s real potential, just so he can be a significant part of a main-ish character’s backstory where his only purpose is to hurt her, then thrusting him into a romantic relationship he really wasn’t destined to be apart of, then giving him a shitty immortality/god arc? For some reason? Except that arc was actually kind of necessary, because apparently slightly (a year) younger me couldn’t stand the thought of having a character live forever and still be immoral in the main plot. So I switched things up and made him gay (bi) as fuck. It changed more than you’d think it would… even the victim-vs-abuser roles got switched around with his girlfriend, even though his girlfriend was kind of an ass either way. (see Soren)

Sometimes character creation takes place only because you’re on Roblox and need to scrap up a character FAST or you’ll take two hours on the customization screen and out of roleplay (see Violet, a Percy Jackson OC I haven’t touched since 2021). Or, take two hours typing up your character’s description in a roleplay group chat (see Maria). They both end up being self inserts, down to your own looks, or tweaking said own looks just a bit, to what you actually kind of want to look like. Except they both end up looking drastically different from their original iterations (Violet has blue eyes, freckles, etc., and Maria is an entirely separate race), and one of them a drastically different personality than originally represented. (See Violet. Again.)

Sometimes character creation is literally just you trying to have fun imagining little people that dress pretty and have big, fancy names, but aren’t assholes. Except your brain won’t fucking let you, so it escalates into a Spotify playlist and a three-hundred-thousand-dollar Bloxburg build. (see Indigo Girls)

Sometimes character creation is making random little people in an avatar game (Gacha Club) and then them suddenly popping back into your brain two years later. So you make a few more characters, just to bigger their world a bit. Except you need to revamp the main character. She is NOT giving White Girl. She Cannot Be White. The day she is white is the day I like boys. (NEVER.) Iamfoamingatthemouth, she caN’T BE WHITE BUT WHAT IN THE FUCK SHOULD SHE BE ?????? SHE NEEDS TO BE JEWISH. OR THE OTHER GIRL NEEDS TO BE JEWISH. SOMEBODY HERE NEEDS TO BE JEWISH. I SWEAR TO GOD. I AM LITERALLY SCROLLING THROUGH THE WIKIPEDIA PAGE, “LiSt oF cOnTeMpOrArY eThNiC gRoUpS” AND WITH MY LUCK I’M GOING TO SCROLL THROUGH ALL OF IT WITHOUT PICKING ONE. WHAT IN THE FUCK IS SHE. AND THIS IS ALL BECAUSE I JUST WANT TO FIND A GODDAMN LAST NAME THAT WON’T IGNORE HER CULTURAL IDENTITY WHEN I ACTUALLY DECIDE WHAT ETHNICITY IS. WHAT THE FUCK. (See Robin.)

[stuckinapril]

hey girl… may I ask for advice? sorry to dump this on you, feel free to ignore of course! I just don‘t know where to put this right now and it‘s been eating at me for the past two months

I met a guy around 8 months ago and we instantly connected really intensely and even fell in love in a really short amount of time (obviously all of that was based on very brief interactions and didn‘t have anything to do with actual love but it was still nice and i felt like something could grow from it), however due to our personal circumstances we decided to be friends. The last time I saw him was 7 months ago. We ended up making out that night. The next morning he made it very clear he didnt want a relationship and i didn’t either. We kept texting every day and i asked to see him again but when we finally managed to find a day to hang out he would cancel the same day because he wasn‘t feeling well mentally (which I would never judge or question because I have my bad weeks too) but this happened like 5-6 times and I felt like he just didnt want to see me again, or at least it wasn’t important to him right now. I involuntarily pulled back from our texting relationship over the summer because of work but still it was always me except for one time who was asking to hang out. Then I started actually pulling back because I was hurt from him rejecting me all the time. At this point it’s not even just about the romantic feelings, I feel like we’re not even friends anymore. I feel stuck, I feel myself wanting to pull back and I feel stupid when he rejects me being nice to him (we always tease each other but he used to be more caring and accept care from me too). I want to be there for him and let him know that I‘m not going anywhere (because i’m not, i want him in my life) but at the same time i notice myself falling into an obsession because of him being so inconsisent. Do you think I can take a step back without losing him and abandoning our friendship entirely? I don‘t want to make a big thing out of it because I know he‘s been very busy working but then again it‘s not too much to want to see him once in 7 months and I made time for him when i was drowning in work. I wonder what happened or what has changed for him. I just don‘t know where to put all of this care that I have for him

reading your ask gave me deja vu bc i went through every single phase you’re describing w my ex. hell, i was going through it as late as october. your feelings are valid. your feelings are really valid and raw and i deeply relate to every single thing you’re saying. but that’s why i need to bluntly tell you—there is no future friendship (or relationship, for that matter) to be maintained with this man. just trust me on this. i went through the “maybe we could be friends!!” phase too. i so badly wanted him to stay in my life too. it didn’t work. it won’t work for you either. you need to go no contact. absolutely cut him out of your life. you will not move on any other way.

how do i know this? bc that’s the only thing that really, truly helped me. you’re going to feel withdrawals at first. it’s literally like a dopamine fix. the moment you remove him from your life, the chemicals in your brain will go crazy. they so badly crave the presence of this person. but is what he’s giving you even a presence? y’all have literally not seen each other for 7 months. imagine all the other guys you could have met in that time. imagine the opportunities lost. 7 billion people in this world, and you’re stuck fixating on this person who’s giving you breadcrumbs. literal breadcrumbs. it’s seriously time to consider you.

but this is not sustainable. it’s damaging. it’s hard to believe, but this man is neither the cause nor the solution to your pain. even if he were prevalent in your life, this would not fix the root issue—which is that so much of your happiness is attached to this person. you’re dependent on him. you can’t need a person. you can want them, but you can never need them. you need to detach and find yourself. that’s what i had to do as well. back when i was going through the thick of my breakup, it seemed crazy to me not to have him in my life. i genuinely thought he enriched it. but if he was truly the only source of enrichment, did that mean i was living a full life to begin with? a person shouldn’t be the only reason i find my days exciting. i should be the only one responsible for my emotions—and if a person walks out, i should be fine. it shouldn’t consume me. that’s not healthy. that’s a problem.

i reiterate: it wouldn’t even matter if he was the best companion you could’ve asked for. the simple fact of the matter is you’re relying way, way too much on another person for happiness and fulfillment. this is something you need to go through alone.

you need to cut him off. i was in denial about this too. you may be for a while as well. but all keeping him in your life, in any capacity, will do is hurt you. this is not the behavior of a man who cares or wants to be helped. and people simply can’t be fixed. only they can give themselves the permission to be better. your only option—for the sake of you—is to walk out, endure the pain, grow from it, and fulfill yourself without needing someone else. i swear. i have been there so many times. that’s the only thing that will help.

[thewholedamnboulangerie]

natural talents

For Day 1 of KinnPorsche Week (prompt: ‘Can I try’ + love)

Kim had idolised both of his older brothers, growing up. He had never tried to hide it, precisely - but then again, he’d never been the most demonstrative soul, even as a child. 

In his darker moments, he wonders if that hero-worship was where it had all gone wrong. If everything he ever loves is simply doomed to crumble into ashes at his touch.

He can even pinpoint the very moment that any chance of having a normal bond with Kinn - well, normal by the standards of the tooth and nail world they live in - was destroyed. The moment that he unwittingly crushed it to dust beneath his oblivious heel.

It was the day that he’d been sitting beside Kinn, idly kicking his feet, listening to his older brother stumble through some chord practice on the brand new guitar their father had just gifted him. And Kim, with all the enthusiasm and naiveté of a child who hadn’t yet learned that the world does not revolve around him, had asked, “Can I try, P’Kinn?”

It was all inevitable, after that. Music had been Kinn’s first love, after all - at first, Kim had thought that it was something they could bond over together, but he knew better now. The worst parts of him had always been too much like their father for something so trite as simply sharing a passion equally; no matter that in the softest parts of his underbelly he had always yearned for that connection, his claws were too sharp, too greedy. No matter that he’d tried to sever those darkest parts of himself, leave them rotting in the shadows of the family mansion and never return to claim them - in the end, he could never make the cut clean. In the end, he’d walked out the door having knowingly stolen a shard of Kinn’s heart, and the guilt had never once halted his path no matter how heavily it weighed him down.

Of course, in his lighter moments he can’t help wondering if his father somehow orchestrated it - their talents, their estrangement, all of it. Normally, that’s a terribly tempting line of thought to pursue. But for this? Any explanation that absolves him of blame is a leap of imagination too far.

(The thing is, neither Kim nor Kinn ever quite learned to test the limits of their imagination. They’ve always had to rely on someone else for that.)

Tankhun’s sudden and unannounced presence in his flat was making Kim feel deeply, viscerally unsettled. Not necessarily in a bad way - it was more to do with the fact that his monochrome interiors had never prepared themselves to welcome quite such a concentrated splash of colour into their midst, and the sight of his oldest brother flitting around, peering at every detail and meaningless trinket left out on display with single-minded attention, was one that Kim couldn’t foresee himself getting used to any time soon. After all, it still brought a surprised kick of wary joy to his tattered heart every time he caught wind of Tankhun voluntarily leaving the house on another pilgrimage to the strangest corners of Bangkok imaginable; he also inevitably felt a twinge of resentment every time someone from his old life (his current life, there was no escaping his family’s life no matter how hard or how many times he tried) intruded on his personal sanctum. 

Reconciling the two conflicting emotions was proving nigh impossible, so he flopped down into the chair nearest the windows, picked up the guitar resting against it, and began to strum.

Stolen as it was, the solace he found in music almost never failed to soothe him.

Minutes passed, almost unnoticed; a new melody danced at the tips of his fingers, words to accompany it drifting almost to his ears. It was almost a shock to pause, look up, and realise that he had no idea how long it had been since Tankhun had ceased his fluttering and settled down to sit opposite him, gazing at him with an inscrutable expression in his eyes.

“...What?” Kim asked, when it became clear that Tankhun had no intention of breaking the silence of his own volition.

A beat of silence. Another. Kim couldn’t quite recall ever seeing his older brother so consumed by hesitance.

And finally, a hand stretching out towards the guitar, bridging the gap between them. “Can I try?”

---

me: oh hey KinnPorsche Week! with prompts especially for fic writers!! that seems cool I should really try to do that me, yesterday: oh. huh. KinnPorsche Week starts tomorrow and I’m sick and I haven’t written one single word, guess I’m not doing it :( me, at 10pm this evening: hold on let me black out real quick me, 90 mins later: where did these 730 words come from. did I do that. in conclusion I will probably put this on AO3 later and I MIGHT do the prompts for the rest of the week as well but as demonstrated here: literally who knows what she (me) will do!! not me!!!

[mejomonster]

Well. Silent Reading chapter 12, where they talk about Fei Du's moms death and how he doesn't accept the conclusion, how Luo Wenzhou advises he at least try to move on emotionally. The way Fei Du is tapping a song on his cup (perhaps his moms), that he stops tapping when Luo Wenzhou hits a nerve and becomes like a statue--revealing his true emotions in a way he doesn't/can't in therapy. The grief talk he probably has needed to hear for a while, but first a very painful talk where there is no seeing eye to eye and no agreeing because they both have their reasons. And Luo Wenzhou turns off the petty conflict for it because Fei Du deserves to genuinely discuss it with Luo Wenzhou as level headed adults with their analysis if Fei Du wants to. And Fei Du is so emotional, and in the end as he puts his mask back up. (A note on the show version: some portions of this changed, the main dialogue stayed fairly true and the function of the scene. In both cases, this scene absolutely cuts up my heart ;-; ):

"Someone once said to me that ‘everything that happens in this world leaves traces,’ but whether you can find them depends on each side’s luck. Is your luck good this time?”

Luo Wenzhou suddenly froze. The blow-for-blow probing, bantering, and hinting vanished utterly from his face. For an instant the corners of his mouth were even pulled a little tight.

Luo Wenzhou subconsciously got his cigarettes out of his pocket, thought of something, and put them back.

Instantly there was deep silence between the two of them. Neither looked at the other. They only sat side by side with a distance of about one meter between them, like complete strangers.

“The windows and doors were locked. None of the rooms showed signs of forced entry. The most advanced security system of the time was entirely untouched.” Luo Wenzhou abruptly opened his mouth to speak, his voice very low and his speech very fast, as if he had already recited these words many times and could smoothly say them without missing a single punctuation mark.

“She had done her makeup and changed her clothes, even put on music. The scene had a certain feeling of ritual. There was a suicide note arranged on the writing desk next to her. It was analyzed, the handwriting confirmed to belong to the deceased. The person who had written the letter showed clear depressive tendencies, which tallied with her daily use of antidepressant medication. The deceased was an adult, with no illness or injury that may have led her to be unable to act for herself. No drugs sufficient to cause unconsciousness were found in her system. There were also no defensive wounds on her body.—That’s all the evidence we collected at the time. You were the one who reported the case. You reached the scene before we did. Unless you want to tell me that you hid some evidence back then, it was without a doubt a suicide.”

Fei Du didn’t speak. His sitting posture seemed very relaxed—legs crossed, upper body leaning forward slightly, one hand casually lying on his knee and the other holding a paper cup that was no longer steaming. His long and slender fingers were tapping out a beat on the rim of the cup, as if there was a melody no one else could hear filling the air.

“I said to you then, ‘Everything that happens in this world leaves traces, as long as it’s real. Without traces to support your opinion, however much you believe in it, it’s still only a dead end of the imagination.’ Fei Du, you may have had a certain intuition, but we can’t do our job based on intuition. My intuition tells me every day that I can make five million.” Luo Wenzhou’s gaze stopped on Fei Du’s fingers. Then, in an almost callously objective tone, he said, “And you know, there’s a theory abroad that says that if a person wants to kill herself, she may suddenly use some means to confess it to the people close to her—you heard her confession back then.”

Fei Du’s fingers suddenly stiffened.

Luo Wenzhou reached out his arm, pulled the paper cup out of his hand and put it aside. “If you really want to talk over this case with me, I maintain my judgment to this day—but it doesn’t matter whose judgment it is. That isn’t important anymore. She’s been dead for seven years. When the coffin is closed, you can judge a person’s life. The relevant evidence has all disappeared. This isn’t going to sound good, but if she’s reincarnated she’ll already be attending primary school. The living can cling on without letting go; it’s a form of emotional sustenance. But there’s no sense in blindly clinging to the wrong course.”

Maintaining his original posture, Fei Du sat without moving a muscle, as if he had turned into a statue.

Just then, Zhang Ting and the lawyer came out side by side, and Fei Du’s gaze moved slightly, giving off a trace of living energy.

“I don’t accept your conclusion, Officer Luo,” said Fei Du.

Hearing this, Luo Wenzhou wasn’t at all taken aback. He only shrugged.

Fei Du adjusted his jacket and stood to meet Zhang Ting and the lawyer. He looked down at Luo Wenzhou. There was no smile on his face; his expression was even somewhat somber. “But perhaps there’s some merit in your heartfelt advice.”

Luo Wenzhou was surprised, but after saying this, Fei Du once again put on his graceful mask and left with Zhang Ting. They didn’t have any further interaction.

[odrseasonone]

OPHELIA FONTAINE SEASON 1

Come, let’s fly away from this place, Aurae.

THE BASICS: 

Character’s name: Ophelia Fontaine

Physical description: Lucy Griffiths

Age: 26

MBTI: ISFP-T (The Adventurer)

PLOT POINTS:

season one:

1.01: Isabella returns; clear tension between her and her sister; love triangle is established between arthur, isabella, and ophelia

1.04: Jon Valles arrives

future plots:

ophelia tries to undercut rowena’s regime on her own )not knowing about the resistance) and gets captured and puts guin and her new resistance in a bad place!!

run ins with danyl reston (they HATE each other at first, but then end up falling in love)

most likely eventually finds out about guin and possible ends up as a member of (at least) the northern resistance

at one point jesper tries to pursue her and/or isabella (love triangle x 2 except this time neither girl is interested)

TRAJECTORY:

Overall Arc: Goes from feeling unloved and unwanted to feeling appreciated and respected by not only her family, but those around her. Gains self-confidence and a sense of purpose

Season 1 Arc (Step 1 of 4): Goes from hoping for a way out of her life where she will be dependent on her cousin, to seeing her sister swoop in and steal it away from her. Ends season frustrated with her situation; her life; and just herself in general for being in this position at all.

Season 2 Arc (Step 2 of 4): Things are terrible -- goes from being a sad loner, to someone who is frustrated with life/nursing a broken heart/grieving for her dad to someone who learns to make a place for herself in the North. Because of their situation, starts to rely on her sisters more and they start to develop a better relationship. Decides to do something about the injustices around her and essentially becomes ~the night watchmen~.

Season 3 Arc (Step 3 of 4): Possibly discovers about Guin/the resistance this season and becomes a respected and valued member.

Season 4 Arc (Step 4 of 4): Finds that she is loved now by many; no longer feels like she needs to change who she is to be accepted; learns not to judge others quite so harshly thanks to her mended relationship with her sister & her relationship with Danyl Reston. Ends the series as a happy, fulfilled individual

ENGINE OF CHANGE:

Internal goal/desire: To feel loved, appreciated, and accepted

Why can’t they get it? Ophelia is ~not like other girls~. She speaks her mind with no sense of the consequences and is often seen as careless and rude instead of forthright and genuine. While beloved by her own father, it has always been clear that Isabella is his pride and Guin is his joy and Ophelia is just an afterthought. She's always been seen as ~the other Fontaine girl~ and seems to always be in competition with her sisters who she is often compared to. While Guin does nothing to foster this, Isabella has always seemed to purposefully one-up Ophelia every chance she gets. Ophelia thought she had finally found a way of becoming more independent and carving a life for herself when Arthur Arrington began to show her attentions. She never thought she would marry for love -- only to escape her situation -- but time spent with Arthur made her believe that she could love him. He was one of the few people in her life who never wanted her to be anything else than who she was and what's more -- he seemed to love her for it. This all comes crashing down, of course, when Isabella returns to town, newly single and ready to mingle.

What are they afraid of: Her greatest fear is being left in the hands of Jon Valles (second only to having to live with her sister and Arthur once/if they marry). She wants independence; she wants her own life and spending the rest of her days trapped with people who she feels do not respect her/treat her well is the worst thing she can currently imagine -- and it feels as though this future is breathing down her neck.

How character views the world: Ophelia is mostly dissatisfied with the world and the people in it. It is clear that she does not belong to the society the Fontaines move in and she would rather spend her days tucked away in the corners of the house/with her horse/literally anYWhere else. That's not to say that she thinks that the world is all bad. It's not. She has a few friends (mostly consisting of the servants on the estate) and when she's with them, she feels happy and appreciated. She believes that there is good in this world, but she finds that most nobles/royals are selfish/stuck up/insincere and she's not willing to buy into their ~games~

How character views self: Generally misunderstood; but deep down she does have a lot of insecurities that stem from never, ever coming up on top and there are definitely moments when she wonders if everyone else is right and she's just not good enough. She does always try to be kind and generous to those she finds deserving and she knows she is stubborn and has a hard time forgiving those who have wronged her, but her pride won't allow her to treat them as she wishes she was being treated.

INTERNAL: THE MOST IMPORTANT THINGS YOU NEED TO KNOW ABOUT YOUR CHARACTER

What is his/her greatest fear?  A cage -- and her home already feels this way. She wants her freedom: freedom to be herself without ridicule (but also in a much more literal sense as well, Ophelia loves the forest and the trees and the calm of nature)

Inner motivation: Despite feeling betrayed by Arthur Arrington, she knows that he is still a better option for a husband than living under Jon Valles's thumb and it is this realization that keeps her ~interested~ in him, however she is now much more guarded with her heart once she sees he is also interested in Isabella.

Kryptonite: Betrayal, of any kind, but the few people she loves and trusts. She expects it from most people at this point and has learned to accept it as a hazard of life, but she's let herself be vulnerable with a few select people and honestly finding out she was wrong about them would probably break her.

What is his/her misbelief about life (to be challenged ~this season)? Having been treated unkindly by so many, she is definitely cynical about the world and most people it in. I don't think this will necessarily be challenged in this first season (in fact I think she will feel justified in theses believes) but eventually she will learn to see that the world is a better place than she gives it credit for.

Lesson he/she needs to learn (this season): Ophelia needs to be learn to forgive & not to be so stubborn. Again, I think this is a lesson she will learn later ... but there's a lot in store for her and big changes to come in her life, and she would be better served if she was able to get along better with her sisters (especially Isabella) who is suffering the same way she is!!! Also just learn that half of Isabella's motivations have been with the goal of actually protecting her sisters all along.

What is the best thing in his/her life? Honestly? Her horse! Aurae is always there for her and has never judged her once (except perhaps that one time she didn't have an apple but she will let that one slide ;D)

What is the worst thing in his/her life? Jon Valles (she thought it was Isabella once, but once you live with a murderer/rapist cousin, you rethink things a little ;D)

What does she/he most often look down on people for? Anyone who is unkind/makes other people feel inferior (especially when there seems to be no reason for it!) Ophelia is a defender of those who are mistreated, as she has felt that way for so long, herself, and will not stand to see it occur to others, if she can help it.

What makes his/her heart feel alive?  The wind in her hair! Being on her horse; riding over the fields and through the woods; sitting peacefully up a tree with a book (especially when she's escaped some awful social function to get there); laughing with her friends; staring at the stars at night; honestly just any activity she can do (typically outside) that just makes her forget about the world and her problems/any peaceful moment she can just live instead

What makes him/her feel loved, and who was the last person to make them feel that way? Feeling seen/heard/appreciated. The last time was when Guin came to her room the night after the ball to check on her. She didn't press her or ask any questions about what had (or hadn't) happened with Arthur and instead they just sat together in front of the fire and drank tea. Ophelia didn't feel like confiding in her but it was nice to know that she was there, and would listen if she wanted to speak.

Top three things he/she values most in life?  Freedom; her horse; her friends

[sapphireginger]

Title: I’ll Bee Kissing My Honey

Pairing: Stira (Stiles Stilinski + Kira Yukimura)

Rating: Mature

Word Count: 5,078

Warnings: None

Summary:

Kira chuckles softly and Mr. Stilinski quirks a brow in question. She winks. “I told him he could tally the number of kisses and I will give him twice that many when we get home.”

Noah’s eyebrows fly up and then he rolls his eyes playfully. “Of course you did,” he says with a smile. He glances at his son. “You spoil him.”

“Perhaps but he spoils me more.”

Created For: @badbitchesbingo / Square Filled: Honey - Halsey

Kira loves mornings. There's just something about getting up when the sun hasn't made an appearance yet. The world is still, and the only sounds are her feet hitting the pavement as she runs, the soft pants of her breathing and the music in her ears. She runs every single morning.

Today however, she decided to run in the afternoon.

Nearing the end of her run, she turns down their street and slows her pace to a jog. A couple blocks later she slows to a fast walk and then resumes a normal walking pace. There are little black curls framing her face from the slight heat.

The neighborhood she lives in with her fiancé is small and not very busy. She heads up the driveway towards the house and pulls her key out of her sports short's pocket.

Her black ponytail bounces as Kira bobs her head to the beat of the song. Her taste in music varies day to day. She started her run with Halsey and is now currently humming along to Prop Me Up Beside the Jukebox (If I Die) by Joe Diffie.

Prop me up beside the jukebox if I die Lord I wanna go to Heaven, but I don't wanna go tonight Fill my boots up with sand, put a stiff drink in my hand Prop me up beside the jukebox if I die Lord prop me up beside the jukebox if I die

As she tries to fit the key into the lock, she can't help but wonder if she should be thanking Mr. Stilinski for getting the song on her list or be annoyed. It's nothing like the rest of what she listens to. However, when you love someone, you care about them and the people they care about. Mr. Stilinski loves country music. He's her fiancé's father. Therefore, she cares.

He keeps saying he'll make a true cornhusker of her yet. Thing is she is already a Cornhusker since she's been living in Nebraska for as long as she's been with his son. They've even gone to as many football games as they could afford. She even has her own custom husker jersey. Still, it's nice to feel so welcome.

She wipes her hand against her midriff—she always runs in a sports bra and sports shorts during the summer in either lavender purple or neon pink—to clear the light layer of sweat from her run. Then as she switches the song to her current fav, her eyes fall on her engagement ring.

The band is white gold with a medium sized diamond in the center. There's a small orange sapphire on either side of the diamond and then there's the finishing touch of leaves weaving between the gems. She still remembers the day he proposed as if it was yesterday.

Kira had been speechless at the sight of the ring and the moment she realized he had it custom made for her from the very jewelry store where her father got her mother's ring she burst into tears. She can't begin to imagine how much it cost. Although the sentimentality of it was priceless. So, there was no hesitation, doubt or question when she gave him her 'Yes'. She of course would've said yes to a twenty five cent ring from a machine at the supermarket.

They've been together for three years and engaged for nine of those thirty six months. Not to mention they've known each other a lot longer than that.

Kira doesn't resist the soft smile that forms on her face. Oh, she loves her fiancé to pieces. She steps inside singing along to the current song.

She told me "Open your mouth" She said "I've got a surprise" And so I opened it wide And then she crawled inside She's on the tip of my tongue She's on the top of my thighs And if I searched a thousand miles I'd be dying to find

Her voice is smooth like silk, and she starts dancing as she closes the front door behind her, making sure to lock it.

Between my fingers She leaves then she lingers If she's gonna go Well then I'm going with her I know that I won't forget

She was sweet like honey But all I can taste is the blood in my mouth And the bitterness in goodbye Dripping like honey Down the back of my throat and out the front of my mind And now she's impatient and I'm complacent With just a little taste of wasting time Looking for honey But she stings like she means it She's mean and she's mine

Kira kicks off her shoes and socks by the door and pads barefoot towards the back porch hoping to get a kiss from her man. However, she doesn't find him in his garden where he spends a lot of his time tending to the various flowers they have growing. He always says his mother loved to garden and he couldn't not carry on that love himself.

She'll often find him on his knees, fingers caked in dirt, and some smeared on his cheeks, but the bright smile on his face makes the mess worth it to her. Sometimes she'll even grab the hose and chase him around the yard with it. It always ends with both of them soaking wet and grinning ear to ear as they kiss.

Not finding him outside, she heads back inside and towards the side stairs. Maybe he's in his art room that doubles as a study. She takes the steps two at a time. While Kira isn't really an artist or author herself, she does write some poetry and she loves listening to her fiancé's work. Her favorite is when they curl up together and he reads his stories to her out loud. His voice is the best thing her ears have ever heard.

The study is silent and empty when she peeks in. Her eyes still scan the room, pausing briefly on the books her fiancé has had published and she smiles, feeling pride swell in her chest.

He's not in the garden, the study nor their room and she can't hear the shower running. There's no text that he's gone out, which means he's in the house somewhere.

Not everyone understands why they tell each other when they're going to be out of the house or really why they're so open with each other. Kira has tried to explain, as has her fiancé but really, it's their relationship and some things are too personal.

When Kira was nine her father had to go pick her mother up from the airport. Since Kira was in school at the time and the airport was less than an hour away, he didn't think it was necessary to tell her he'd not be home when she got there like he normally was.

Sadly, there was an accident on the freeway as her parents were coming home. Neither of them survived the accident. It still brings tears to her eyes to this day but it's not as painful as it was then. She went to live with her Aunt Kiko and her Uncle Nikolo.

Growing up without her parents was hard. Still with the help of her family she thrived and whenever it would hurt too much, she'd curl up in bed with a family picture. When she closed her eyes, she'd still be able to picture the last hug she got from her mother and the last kiss to her forehead from her father. It's another reason why Mr. Stilinski is such an important person to her. He's actually going to walk her down the aisle at their wedding.

Kira shakes her head and heads back downstairs. When she told her fiancé about losing her parents about a year after meeting their sophomore year of college, she felt like a weight was lifted because every time he had to go do something after that, he would text her. It's part of why she fell in love with him to begin with.

The memory of the first text he sent swirls in her mind as she heads towards the kitchen. She's pretty sure they still have some glacier freeze Gatorade left in the fridge.

As she turns into the room, she catches sight of her fiancé sitting at the kitchen island, staring at his computer and she smiles.

His back is to her, so he doesn't notice her right away. Not wanting to break his concentration, she grabs a Gatorade and then glances over his shoulder. "Bambi? Everything okay?" she whispers, brushing her fingers along his back.

"'M phine," he replies, startling only slightly at her apparent sudden appearance.

She tilts her head and takes a drink before resting her chin on his shoulder. He instinctively melts into her. Kira smiles as she sets the Gatorade on the counter and places a kiss on his neck. Her attention then falls to his computer screen.

It's a regular thing for her to find him researching all kinds of things on his computer at all hours, especially when he's working on a book. She tilts her head as she scans the article.

"Honey?"

"Mm?"

"Why are you looking up the time it takes ice cubes to freeze fully?"

He sighs and the tips of his ears turn red. "Don' wav. 'Kay?" ("Don't laugh. Okay?")

Kira isn't sure why he sounds off, but she nods despite him being unable to see it. Her lips touch his neck again and she gives the pale mole dotted skin a soft nip. "I won't."

He turns to look at her, his cheeks bright red and her eyes widen.

"Bambi what happened to your—"

Stiles groans and averts his gaze. "Vee sing. Ah m 'ip!" ("Bee sting. On my lip!")

He points to it and Kira fights not to smile. "I can see that. You know we have ice packs, right?"

"I 'ew 'at," he says with a huff. ("I knew that.")

Kira snorts and covers her mouth as she retrieves an ice pack from their freezer. "So, you had a fight with a bee today huh?" she asks as she sits on the stool next to him. She places her left hand on his thigh and raises her right hand with the ice pack to touch his lips. "Who won?" she lightly teases.

Stiles winces and then shudders. "I 'ay I 'id. 'Ut don' 'eel 'ike eh." ("I'd say I did. But don't feel like it.")

Kira giggles and tilts her head. "We've not had problems with bees before. I wonder why one of them stung you."

If it's possible his cheeks get ever darker red. "'Y 'ault." ("My fault.")

"Your fault?" she asks, confused. Then she gasps. "Oh! The hive we took down? I thought it was empty. Did they come back?"

Stiles shrugs and then nods, careful not to dislodge the soothing cool relief of the ice pack. "'ee 'as a'own. Un 'ee," ("Bee was alone. One bee,") he explains, and Kira is grateful there was only one. She's also glad her fiance isn't allergic. As it is, his lip is really swollen.

"Why didn't you put something on it sooner, honey?"

Another shrug is his reply as his hand finds hers where it's still resting on his thigh. His thumb gently rubs over the knuckles of her hand. She likes the feeling, and she knows it's calming to him.

She decides not to ask any more questions until he can talk easier. "Well, at least you got the stinger out."

Stiles pales. "I 'idn't eve' 'ink 'bou 'at." ("I didn't even think about that.")

Kira quirks a brow. "Well honeybees can only sting once and their stinger breaks off when they do. You remember The Bee Movie right?"

He nods, still a little panicky at the thought of a stinger being stuck.

"You'll–" she chuckles and when it gets her a quirked brow she continues. "You'll beeee just fine, honey." She follows her statement with a buzzing sound.

Stiles snorts and then winces when the action pulls his lip away from the ice pack. His eyes shine with affection and unadulterated love as he gazes at her. Kira knows she's his whole world, just as he is hers.

"Ah' ooo 'ure eh ow?" he asks nervously. ("Are you sure it's out?")

Kira pulls the ice pack away to check, gently running her thumb across his bottom lip. Stiles shivers at her touch and she smiles at him. "I'm sure, honey. Just your lips. Perfect as always."

Stiles grins at her and leans forward for a kiss.

Kira giggles as she places the ice pack on the counter and presses that hand to his chest. "Honey, I love you, but I think right now we should hold off on the kisses."

The pout on his face should not be as adorable as it is. "I 'an 'isses," ("I want kisses,") he says, puckering his lips or well attempting to since swollen lips are not really puckerable.

It makes Kira shake her head in fond exasperation. Then her eyes widen. "Honey, aren't you supposed to work the kissing booth at the community fair tonight?"

He nods sheepishly and his shoulders slump. "I 'an't ow." ("I can't now.")

Kira nods in agreement. "Definitely not." She chews her lip and then perks up. "What if I stepped in for you?" she offers.

Stiles frowns slightly and intertwines the fingers of the hands on his thigh. He shakes his head. "On'y 'isses 'or meh." ("Only kisses for me.")

"Someone's jealous huh?" she teases. He's never really been a jealous person. Then again kissing a bunch of random strangers is different than her winning a poetry contest over him.

He lifts his hand bringing his index finger and thumb so they're almost touching to signify he's a little jealous.

With a quirk of her brow Kira leans forward and kisses his cheek. "Look at it this way. If I do this, then you're still taking part in the fair by proxy. I don't like the thought of you kissing a bunch of random strangers any more than you like the thought of me doing so, but we knew when you decided to sign up for this one what it would entail."

"'Ell, is iff'ent ow." ("Well, it's different now.")

Kira sighs and cups his cheek making sure he's meeting her gaze. "I'll make you a deal. Okay?"

He leans into her touch and nods. "'Kay."

"You can come with me, and I'll even let you keep count of how many kisses I get. Then I'll make sure to give you twice that many."

His eyes widen and he beams at her. When she guides him forward to rest their foreheads together, he goes easily with the movement.

It's obvious they would both really like to be kissing right now but his lip is still swollen. If she didn't already know he wasn't allergic, she would've thought he was.

When puffy pink lips try to catch hers, she pulls back only slightly. "We should wait for the swelling to go down."

Amber eyes meet mocha eyes, and he sighs, pouting again. It really is adorable. Kira guesses a man, nearing his late twenties, pouting does it for her.

"Oo 'ean oo 'on't 'ant 'iss meh 'ike 'is?" ("You mean you don't want to kiss me like this?")

She giggles and leans back enough to better see his face. "Honey, I'll always want to kiss you, bee sting plump lips and all but it'll hurt while it's swollen, and I rather like it when we're both moaning from pleasure not pain. So, let's take care of that and you can come to the booth. If your lip is not as swollen by then, I'll let you kiss me before it starts to stake your claim. Okay?"

With only a little reluctance he nods his ascent. His brow then furrows in confusion when she guides one of his hands to her hip. "Uh?"

"Well just because we can't kiss doesn't mean we can't have fun. I need to shower from my run, and I seem to remember a little something we got the other day, at that one place, that we haven't had a chance to tr–Ah! Stiles!!" she squeals as he lifts her over his shoulder and darts towards the stairs. Her giggles and squeals can be heard as they ascend.

💋🐝•💛•🐝💋

Kira traces figure eights on Stiles's toned chest as they lay tangled in the sheets of their bed. The sun is shining through the window and catches her ring. She smiles when Stiles takes her hand and kisses each fingertip with such reverence it makes her breath catch.

"I love you," she says, and she can almost swear his heart skipped a beat.

Stiles's lip is looking much better, and she traces it with her thumb. It's so tempting the thought of just saying to hell with it, but she refrains– barely –and he takes her thumb into his mouth.

Before meeting Stiles, she had never met someone who had an oral fixation, nor did she really know what it meant. However, she is absolutely all for the things he does with his mouth. Her thighs clench together at the memory of his face being buried in her core, edging her for nearly an hour before finally letting her cum.

Then she rode him slowly, driving him crazy until he rolled them over and with a nod from her began to chase his own pleasure.

A warm hand cupping her cheek brings her back from her thoughts and she meets a knowing gaze. Her cheeks twinge pink. He knows her so well. "Yes. Okay so I was thinking about it. Again."

With a glance at the clock Stiles grins and looks back at her with mischief in his eyes. "We 'ave 'ime." ("We have time.")

"Time? We have an hour to get ready, drive to the fair and get started."

Still, her protest holds no force, because she will never really deny herself his touch. Her eyes find the hardness between his legs and her hand strokes it just the way he likes. She'll never deny herself that either.

"Please?" she breathes and then moans, her back arching as he sheathes himself in her core once more. They really should probably hurry but Kira relishes the slow lovemaking just as much as the rough fast sex. "Please," she says again.

Stiles pants and rests their foreheads together as he picks up the pace. "Any'ing 'or oo." ("Anything for you.")

Despite the way he still can't speak quite right there is nothing funny about his words. He means them wholeheartedly; Kira knows without a doubt. With another breath of pleasure, she gives in to the pleasure he never fails to bring her every single time.

💋🐝•💛•🐝💋

They are running a little late, arriving a couple minutes after they should've been there, but it's not a huge deal. They briefly greet some friends, grab a couple drinks and head to the booth. The swelling of Stiles's lip is now completely gone. So, as promised, Kira lets him pull her close, one hand on her hip and the other cupping her jaw and gives her a claiming kiss. She will never get tired of kissing this man.

A throat clears and she blinks her eyes open, blushing at the look on her soon to be father in law's face. "So..." he drawls. "Let me guess..."

"No," Stiles says with pink cheeks. "Please don't. It's just uh..."

Noah tilts his head as Kira puts on the pin. "Ah, now that makes sense."

Stiles huffs. "Well, I couldn't do it cause I'm recovering, Daddio. She offered."

Kira giggles and looks at Mr. Stilinski with a sweet smile. "It's true but he is a little bit jelly about it. After all, who knows how many people he'll see me kiss."

With a conspiratory wink Noah nods sagely. "Probably hundreds. I mean especially if they're really good."

Stiles squawks and huffs. "Her kisses are better than good. They are the best. I don't like the idea of her kissing other people that aren't me."

His pout really highlights his lips and Kira pecks them quickly as people start entering the fairgrounds. "Thank you, honey. Your kisses are the best too."

He gives her a dopey smile and pulls her in for another kiss with just a bit of tongue. They might've fallen back into it if someone didn't clear their throat. Kira thought it was Mr. Stilinski again, but blinks, surprised when it's a redheaded girl about their age or a tad younger.

"Hey," the girl says. "I'm Lily." She holds out her hand and blushes. "Is this the line for the kissing booth?"

Kira smiles and shakes her hand. "It sure is. It's nice to meet you, Lily. My name is Kira."

Stiles huffs under his breath and heads towards the stool by the counter.

"And that is my fiancé. His name is Stiles."

Said man glances over and offers a friendly smile. He's not trying to be an ass, Kira knows that, but the smile helps others know as well. She watches as he pulls out a notepad and makes a tally. He is probably making a tally for himself because he totally counts as one kiss.

Kira chuckles softly and Mr. Stilinski quirks a brow in question. She winks. "I told him he could tally the number of kisses and I will give him twice that many when we get home."

Noah's eyebrows fly up and then he rolls his eyes playfully. "Of course, you did," he says with a smile. He glances at his son. "You spoil him."

"Perhaps but he spoils me more."

"Don't doubt it a bit." The man's voice takes on a softer, almost wistful tone. "He's just like his mother in that way."

Kira smiles softly. "You should come see the garden. He's been working on it every day this summer."

Mr. Stilinski smiles at her, grateful she gently pulled him out of the past. "I'll do that. Text me when it works best for you two, okay?"

With a nod she lets herself be pulled into a hug. Hugs from her soon to be father-in-law are the best. It's like being enveloped by family and the feeling of safety all at once. She has to agree with her fiancé, Stilinski hugs are the best. A kiss is pressed to her forehead. "Love ya kiddo."

"Love you too," she whispers and parts waving as he heads over to the food trucks. She'll keep an eye out on that. She knows how much Stiles frets about his dad's eating habits, although thanks to Kira he's doing much better.

Her attention is reverted back to the girl standing there and she squeaks. "I'm so sorry."

Lily smiles and waves off her apology. "Don't be. You two are really cute together and if it's really okay I'd like a kiss."

Kira nods and steps closer, the lights of the Ferris Wheel catching her ring. "It's really okay."

💋🐝•💛•🐝💋

Lily was gentle with her kiss and most people are pretty simple with theirs. They did have to escort two guys out who pushed too far, and Kira got Stiles some curly fries shaped like a funnel cake with a cup of ketchup in the center to distract him. He of course pulled her to sit in his lap, protectively wrapping his arm around her waist, and they ate them together.

Once she stops shaking, she looks at him and gently kisses his cheek. "I love you."

He beams at her, tossing his empty plate in the trash. "I know."

She swats at his chest. "Don't you Han Solo me, Mr. Stilinski."

"Excuse you. Mr. Stilinski is my father."

"You're Mr. Stilinski too, you goofball."

Stiles wraps his arm around her waist and walks back towards the booth. "Well, I prefer any number of other names that spill from your mouth. Bambi. Honey. Stiles. God." Each word is punctuated with a nip to her neck.

Kira lets her head fall back loving the almost possessive sting of his teeth. "Stiles," she says with a soft moan, and he lets her pull away.

His eyes twinkle with amusement as she fixes her shirt and tightens her ponytail. Right before she turns towards the now much shorter line, she hears him whisper to her. "One hour left. Sixty minutes more of you kissing other people and then you're all mine again."

With a deep red tinge on her cheeks, she bites her lip and traces her fingers up his thigh. "I've always been yours. I am yours. I will always be yours." She gently kisses his neck and then bites making his breath stutter in shock. Then she pulls back and smirks innocently at him. "Just as you're mine then, now and always."

Satisfied, she turns and makes her way to the booth. "Who's next?"

💋🐝•💛•🐝💋

They get Starbucks with Mr. Stilinski after the fair shuts down and then they head home. Kira shivers at the possessive grip Stiles has on her thigh and shudders at the way his fingers keep tracing higher and higher up her inner thigh but never close enough to where she wants them.

When they finally get to their bedroom, they quickly go about getting ready for bed. Once they're in bed, she sits cross legged and relaxes into one of her favorite feelings. Her fiancé's fingers feel amazing running through her hair after using the brush to smooth it out of the ponytail.

Kira could probably fall asleep like this. She's done so before but right before Stiles goes to turn off the lamp, she grabs his hand. "What was the tally total?"

He glances at her and shrugs.

Her brow furrows. "Stiles?"

With a huff he gets up and grabs the notepad from his jean pocket. When he offers it to her, she takes it and curls into his side as he slips back into bed. For a moment she thinks Stiles gave her the wrong one because there's only one tally on it.

Kira looks at him and finds his cheeks bright red. His eyes are fixed on the notepad, and she smiles. "Why is there only one tally? I know I kissed more than one person."

"Yeah, but there's only one tally because my kisses are the only ones I care about," he replies in barely a whisper, but his words are sincere. "I'm the luckiest man in the world you know. I get to call you mine and be yours forever. That means all those kisses tonight don't even make a dent in the number of kisses I'll get for the rest of our lives."

With a soft laugh she tosses the notepad on the floor and wrestles him onto his back. She straddles his hips giggling when his hands slide up her bare thighs to her hips settling at the waistband of her pajama shorts.

It's with a content sigh that she leans down and kisses him gently. Their mouths fit together perfectly as if they were made to complete each other. When she pulls back, she is given a fond smile as his eyes flutter open. Stiles is beautiful.

"I love you," he says.

"I love you too, my honeybee."

He gives her a flat look. "No."

Kira pouts. "Why not? I already call you honey. What's one more word in addition to that?"

"I was attacked by a honeybee."

"Honeybees are tiny Stiles."

Stiles huffs and sniffs. "They really pack a prick."

Kira snorts and shakes her head. "I know. Well, I'm here to protect you from the teeny tiny bumble bee," she sings.

"That's the itsy bitsy spider song."

"I think I like my version better." She giggles and sits up gazing down at her man who gazes back with complete adoration.

The teeny tiny bumble bee had never had a kiss. My honey was there with lips perfect and pink. There's no one in all the world as sweet as he. So, I don't blame the teeny tiny bumble bee.

Stiles starts laughing even as his cheeks burn, Kira quickly joining in. It takes a few minutes for them to settle down and catch their breath. She captures his lips in a soft kiss before sliding off his lap and curling into his side.

Her eyes flutter shut at the press of lips against her forehead. "How about I get up early and join you on your run?" he suggests.

Kira snorts. "You hate running."

She feels his shoulder move in a shrug. "Maybe, but I love you and you love to run. It's either that or I make my pancakes for when you get back."

"Oh my god yes."

"Told you I will accept god anytime the title falls from your lips."

She playfully smacks his arm and nuzzles her nose against his neck. "Only if they're white chocolate chip pancakes with the buttery syrup."

Stiles flicks off the lamp and pulls her close under the covers. "You will only get the sweetest things from your sweet honeybee."

"Well then I'll bee kissing my honeybee."

Moments like this when the moon is high in the sky where it's just the two of them are her favorite. The way he holds her as if she's a priceless jewel, the way he treats her with such reverence, devotion, love and affection, the way he is there for her every tear, laugh, success, failure and breath is just perfect. Before Stiles she never expected to have the love her parents had. Her parents and Stiles's parents both loved their other halves so deeply, completely and unconditionally. Now being able to know what that is like for herself is amazing.

Kira loves Stiles with every fiber of her being and can't wait to marry the love of her life. She knows her father and mother would have loved him. Even if for some ridiculous reason they didn't, they would anyway because he makes her happy and puts her first.

Stiles's breathing slows and deepens as he falls asleep with his lips pressed against her forehead. She lets the comforting constant sound of his heartbeat lull her to sleep. Kira sighs happily as her eyes slip shut well on her way to joining him in their dreams.