#and that was the most earth shattering yet grounding thing i had ever heard in my entire life

[novthewolf]

Two’s company, three’s a family - Part seven

Summary : As a cupid, an angel of love, your mission was to make sure everyone was paired up with the right person. Yet you couldn’t get your two most ancient clients to finally end up together. And despite the 6,000 years spent on the case, you couldn’t bring yourself to give them up, oblivious to the reason…

Pairing : Aziraphale x Crowley / GN!Reader x Crowley / GN!Reader x Aziraphale (polyamorous relationship).

Parts : First - Previous - Next

Masterlist : Here

Warnings : long, too long (someone stop me), animal corpse, implied child death, crucifixion, depiction of h0rnisness, mention of s3x, s3xual undertone, alcool, violence, blood, use of french, angst, nazis, anxiety panic, slow burn, english isn’t my first language.

Words : +19,3k (seriously, stop me)

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Love ? Have you ever really felt Love ?

3004 B.C., Mesopotamia

It might be a strange thing to say, but right now you are actually learning how to walk. Oh, you knew the basics, but you never tried to practice on real soil. It felt weird on your feet, gritty and dry; it kept scratching the skin. A mix of tickles and quite pleasant itches. The reason you decided to come down was not to experiment with new sensations but to actually see why you had to bind specific animals together.

You would have asked the other cupids assigned to the mission if they knew anything, but only the principalities were aware of the actual goal. So, as curiosity overtook you, you made your way to the open land once you reached the limits of the forest. You were taken aback by the seemingly huge boat sitting on the hilltop. There were a lot of people, nicely looking at the strange scene behind some wooden fences.

Your eyes followed the multiple coupled animals, and you smiled, recognising the ones you created. Apparently, humans were leading them to that structure, leaving you more confused than ever. Slowly, you ambled to join the crowd and catch glimpses of conversation to try and understand what was actually going on. You ended up resting your arms on the wood and lifting your feet off the ground to relieve the pressure. When you jumped on your other foot, you bumped your right elbow against someone else's left side.

"Ah, sorry! I didn't see you here." You hurried, turning around to meet the unfortunate human.

"Oh, it's really nothing." The person was reassured. You gulped when you recognised him. It was the guardian angel of the Eastern Gate who stopped you from reaching said gate in the Garden of Eden. "Did you hurt your foot? My, you certainly will without any shoes on." He rambled in a worried tone. You started to worry as well. Did you just permanently damage your ride? By ride, you meant your physical body.

"No, no! I'm fine." You backed out slightly when he reached down for your leg. "I'm an angel too. My feet aren't hurt, I hope, and I never heard of... shoes? Anyway, please don't mind me." You dismissed me, looking for a way out.

He didn't seem surprised that you were an angel too. But your shattered heart missed a beat. You didn't mean to confess that. Does he remember your status? If he is aware, is he informed enough about your kind? No walking on earth, no feelings, no meddling in other angels' business. But instead of accusing you of not obeying your superior, he just nodded and actually miracled you some'shoes'. It was a really sweet gesture; you didn't know how to react. You simply muttered a small and bashful thank you and watched him kneel down in front of you.

You squinted your eyes, distruting the gentle way he took your scratched foot and helped you slide it inside the unfamiliar fabric. Once you were equipped, you trampled on the soil, laughing incredulously. It didn't hurt anymore !

"Thank you !" You exclaimed, giddy. And you were grateful to find that your overexcitement didn't faze him; he smiled brightly and joined his hands.

"Oh, there is no problem at all !" He laughed in a breath. Seeing that he seemed open-minded, you yearned to ask him the questions that burned your lips. However, someone interrupted you.

"Hello Aziraphale." A demon greeted him, his yellow snake eyes fixed on the guardian angel's face. He took place on Aziraphale's right side. You audibly gasped out of fear and embarrassment. Those two were the ones you linked back in the garden ! Plus, having a demon so close was still overwhelming.

"Crawley..." Aziraphale smiled nervously, his eyes going back and forth between you and the demon. That was when the redhead spotted you and tilted his head to the side to see you better.

"Hello there." He grinned with all his teeth. Intimitated, you simply hummed as a hello. Crawley then turned to Aziraphale. "So giving the mortals a flaming sword, how did that work out for you ?" He teased.

"You gave your sword away ?" You blurred out.

The angel huffed, flustered, and took some time to figure out what to say next. "There were really dangerous creatures out of the garden; they needed some protection." He rambled your way, then turned to the demon. "And the Almighty has never actually mentioned it again."

Crawley shrugged. "Probably a good thing... What's all this about ?" He gestured at the whole commotion. You nodded in agreement.

"Did they have a sudden urge to build a floating zoo ? Is it a common occurrence for humans ?" You wondered, truly curious.

"Well, they do have particular little quirks, but I never saw it come to that extent." The demon trailed, not meeting your eyes.

"From what I hear, God's a bit techy. Wiping out the human race. Big storm." Aziraphale gestured, and you smelled moonflower and moss, which you learned to recognise as sadness, even if he didn't show it. While Crawley's scent made you crunch your nose, you turned to him and watched his expression swing from outrage to disbelief.

"All of them ?"

"Just the locals." He nodded with tight lips. "I don't believe the Almighty's upset with the Chinese. Or the Native Americans. Or the Australians."

"What about the animals ?" You asked deeply, worried as you grasped his white sleeve. There was limited contact between you and animals, but every time you spent time with them, you felt a strong pull towards them, and you couldn't help but coo and coddle them.

"Oh no, God's not actually going to wipe out every creature." He flinched at your touch and was slowly pulling away. Despite your need for reassurance, you knew none of your fellow angels liked to touch you, so you let go. You felt the demon's eyes on you.

"You see Noah up there ?" He pointed towards the hill, and both of you looked up. "His family, his sons, their wives, and every couple of animals they brought in, they're all going to be fine."

"But they are drowning everybody else." He sneered, truly peeved. Aziraphale couldn't even answer and rather preferred to nod in agreement with sealed lips. Goats bleated in the background, catching your attention, and you turned around. Kids came running along them, blissfully playing and laughing. You shuddered.

"Not the kids. You can't kill kids." Crawley argued. He felt more disgusted by it than he showed, and you tilted your head to get a better look at him. You didn't expect him to care. Aziraphale hummed, darting his eyes away. Your heart sank, and you gulped.

"Well, that's more the kind of thing you'd expect my lot to do."

Yeah, so why isn't that the case?

As if he sensed your doubt, the angel spoke up again. "Yes, but when it's done, the Almighty's going to put up a new thing called a 'rain bow'" He offered with a smile, but all he could muster was a brow raise. "As a promise not to drown everyone again."

You couldn't help but let out a mix of scoff and a grunt. Crawley shared your distaste for the whole idea and mocked it. "How kind."

"You can't judge the Almighty, Crawley. And mh..." He stopped and turned to you inquisitively. He wanted to know your name. The last time you heard out loud was when... You wanted to slap yourself. Come on, you couldn’t be afraid of your own name, now can you ?

"Y/N." You smiled; you were actually happy to introduce yourself. Aziraphale was very nice, and even if he didn't know who you were or what you were, he was treating you with kindness and respect. You weren't sure if you were happy to know that a demon had learned your name. Oh god, what if he told him ?

"Don't fret; I'm sure God got all of this figured out. God's plans are simply:

"Are you going to say 'ineffable'"? Aw, they end each other's sentences. You almost forgot they were bonded. You smiled at the thought before remembering that you were the cause of it and how forbidden it was. You looked slightly red as you rubbed the back of your neck.

And when you thought you couldn't be more flustered, you felt Crawley skip behind you, brush his body against yours, and settle by your side. You were now as red as whatever was the reddest on Earth, and you completely froze up too. He then proceeded to burst your ears by yelling.

"Oi, Shem ! That's unicorn's going to make a run for it." A unicorn was indeed running away from the gathering towards the forest, and you were deeply alert, as you were the one responsible for its bounds. "Oh, it's too late. It's too late !" Crawley howled again.

Tired of his loud voice, you decided to leave and run after the poor creature. "Thank you for everything! Mmh.." You rushed before turning around, not sure how to respond in a non-monotone voice. "Bye bye! Smooches !" Smooches ? Really ?

You heard the angel echoe "smooches ?" as you sprinted away. Even with shoes on, you had terrible coordination and fell a few times before entering the forest, while seemingly hallucinating hearing Aziraphale's voice call you in the distance. Despite trying your best to catch the unicorn in time, you couldn't reach it in time. Instead, rain caught up to you, and you also had to discover how to swim. It wasn't as much fun.

Thankfully, you were able to fly away and find shelter in a cave, cold gnawing at your fingers and feet. And in that moment, you were the loneliest you have ever been. You hugged your knees and stared at your dreadful-looking arm, but you couldn't help but hope the unicorn was safe on the ark.

The minute the level of the water lowered enough for you to search, you didn't waste a second. You roamed for hours, your hair and clothes muddy and wet, tangling around your face and body. A few branches scratch your skin, and pebbles disrupt your messy scout. The sun shone through the branches of the wrenching trees remaining on the land.

That was when you found it. Your breath hitched in your throat, considering the sight in front of you. The water had carried it to the canopy, where the remains of lilac bushes lay still. The long legs of the unicorn lay on the sludge-covered ground. Its beautiful long white mane is all tangled and scattered all across its face, its eyes still open and terrifyingly empty. You didn't even feel your feet move or the tears pouring down your cheeks—just crushing fatigue. It was dead. You were the one who paired it, and now it is gone. God, if you had been faster... Suddenly bursting with adrenaline, you ran and jumped at its side, like you wished you had before it was too late.

You hugged the unicorn's neck as tight as you could, holding on to the vain hope that a heartbeat would be heard. But all you could feel was the wet, cold white coat of the beautiful creature. You couldn't bear to let go; you didn't want to leave it alone. Curled up against its shoulder, you waited. The faint sound of thunder rang through the sky, urging you to look up to that shallow promise that would never make up for anything. Not for the losses, not for the pain. You wish you didn't feel the hurt, but you will be damned if you ever forget the cruelty of that moment.

Footsteps slowly made their way to your miserable form. Your eyes opened on their own, and you looked over to see who interrupted your grieving. And as you thought your heart couldn't be more broken, you let out a desperate cry. Crawley stood there, his golden eyes empty, but his face showed profound sorrow, looking as messed up as you did. A small body draped in a white-drenched sheet was held against his chest. The tightness of his hold reminded you of your own, but the delicacy of his touch made him look so vulnerable. He started walking once again, seeking your eyes, and you felt his misery, adding to your own.

Gently, he rested the small body against the side of the unicorn and patted its head.

"It's not fair." You sobbed, your heart clenching violently, the broken pieces piercing through your lungs.

He kneeled down, seemingly paying his respects like you've seen humans do. "God doesn't exactly do 'fair', if you hadn't noticed."

His red hair hid his face from you, but so did his distress and deep anger. It confused you. Of course you understood how he felt; you just didn't get why. Was it just because it was in his nature to thwart her wishes? But shouldn't he cheer on so many deaths and tragedies? Laugh at pain and suffering, like you have been used to.

"It's just... so cruel, and... I don't..." You couldn't finish the sentence before breaking down in tears. Crawley studied your face, followed the path of your tears, and finally focused on your clenched hands. He inhaled deeply, turned around, sat cross-legged, and gazed up at the sky.

"You might have too much of a sweet heart." In a cheerless joke.

You looked up and saw the majestic bow that adorned the clearing sky among the deadly clouds. It felt like a cynical joke played on you. Mocking you for the naive hope that justice was something God actually cared about.

But... as you peered over the furious demon grieving at your side, you felt less alone and strangely understood. Slowly, your hand went up and down his right arm to soothe his boiling heart, dusting off petals of lilac. He turned around, and you gave him a sad smile.

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33 A.D. Golgotha

It's safe to say you were heavily reprimanded for disappearing like that and letting a unicorn get away, because now, thanks to you, they were all extinct. Great job once again; you kept to yourself. Of course, you didn't mention your encounter to anyone.

And yet they didn't punish you; instead, they put you in charge of their new project, "Jesus." He was an incredible human; he was so full of love and kindness that you suspected they used the essence of the Bound itself. Those thirty-three years were fantastic, and you sure were able to stock up on love. You just wish it didn't have to end so soon.

Now here you were, completely defeated. They always had to do that, didn't they? Someone walked up to you and poked your right arm to get your attention. Surprised, you flinched and turned slowly with wide eyes.

"Oh, Aziraphale." You smiled, happy to see him here, since for some reason he was joyful, despite your circumstances. You had decided to give into your heart, only feeling what other people felt. And also, the filter might be broken; it seemed to work just fine with the guardian angel. He was certainly cheerful to be in the presence of the'son' of God, so it felt nice to feel the same.

Aziraphale smiled in return. "Hello Y/N." He then turned to the scene, and his brows frowned. You couldn't help but stare, like you did in the garden. What about him made you stare? You weren't sure, but you were dead set on noticing all the little details of his expressions. He was so expressive, whether it was through his mouth twitching, teeth gritting, or eyes glittering and squinting. The same goes for his smell; you were sure you could guess everything that was going on inside his head.

"Were you assigned to him ?" The gentle voice whispered, as if not to startle you. You thought about your answer. It wouldn't be logical if only cupids were to care for him, so it wouldn't blow your cover. But why did you want to keep lying so much? You slapped yourself mentally. Because he was a principality, because you showed too much emotion for a heartless being, and because you fricking bound him like a demon! But he was so nice, maybe he wouldn't mind... No.

"Yes, I followed him for most of his life." You smiled quickly but definitely stopped gawking his way. "He is a wonderful person." Tears welled up in your eyes, but you knew his existence was still worth it.

The disturbing sound of cracking bones, the hammer, and Jesus's words brought you back to reality, away from the memories. Why do humans never acknowledge good or beautiful things without having to break them? Love was a tricky concept to them, and they didn't really know when to let things be. Because, come on, he was betrayed by a kiss. They used love and trust as weapons. Humans would rather choose hatred and ignorance if it meant they were right and their pride would remain intact.

"Yes, humans can be dreadful creatures. sometimes." The angel nodded. You looked up, flustered. Being used to having yourself as your only companion made you forget to close your mouth and not get lost in your  reflection."

You flinched when he screamed, and you averted your eyes to the ground. A long black robe came into your view. Climbing up from the dry soil to the eyes of the newcomer, you smelled the spice of the naga viper. Crawley was indeed quite angry, alright ?

"Hi Crawley." You greeted me while taking a step closer to Aziraphale, away from the smell.

He acknowledged your presence with a smile and a nod, and you felt the angel stare behind you. You turned around to identify the emotion slithering from Aziraphale, but it was already gone. Still, he was fidgeting with his fingers and slowly backing away.

"Come to smirk at the poor bugger, have you ?" The demon inquired of Azirphale.

"Smirk ? Me ?"

"Well, your lot put him on there." He shrugged.

"What ?" Your incredulous voice resounded louder than you thought. "I thought it was the hate demons." You grasped Aziraphale's sleeve for support, and you fixed him. And he didn't pull away.

"Well, it was, but we, in a sense, let them put him there." He tried to explain the best he could while preserving Heaven's integrity. "And I'm not consulted on policy decisions, Crawley. Otherwise, it would have been a more merciful death." He finally assured you, and you let go, unsure and overall confused.

"Oh, I've changed it."

The two of you turned to Crawley. "Changed what ?" You asked.

"My name. ' Crawl-y' just wasn't really doing it for me. It's a bit too... squirming-at-your-feet-ish." You chuckled at his explanation.

"Well, you were a snake." Aziraphale smirked, and his brow ticked in a teasing manner.

He was? You gulped and bit your lower lip. Thoughts came in a whirlwind into your mind, and you certainly weren't listening to anything they were saying. God, how many mistakes have you committed? The unicorn, the forbidden bound, and letting the snake tempt Adam and Eve into eating the apple. You were a complete catastrophe.

"Did you ever meet him ?" You heard Aziraphale ask.

The step you tried to take back was stopped by confusion. They were supposed to be linked, and when that happens, the people involved spend a lot of time together, as one would expect. So logically, they would at least know if the other had met someone as important as Jesus. What if... You visualised the surrounding bounds, the complete, yet-to-be finalized and the multitude of possibilities. You darted down to observe the bound of the two and realised you were standing in the middle of it. And to add to your feeling of failure, you realised the bound was anything but completed.

You can't even get that right; you mocked yourself. Laughter and tears wanted to escape your throat. Maybe it was for the better, but still, you couldn't bear to be the reason two people couldn't be together, especially not with such a beautiful bond. Perphas, you could try to shoot them one last time. You considered the thought for a moment and slowly decided against it. That was until you heard Jesus cry in pain once again.

"Oh, that has got to hurt." Crawl—no, Crowley hissed. You sniffed, but a small smile settled on your lips. The sound alerted the angel that spined to see you.

"He'll be alright, dear." He reassured me while tilting his head to the side to get a better look at you.

"For sure. Like I said, he's a bright man who wouldn't even hurt a fly; he'll go right up there." Crowley assured me too, gazing up at the sky.

You scratched your arm and hummed in response. Jesus was being horribly tortured for the ideal that love was the best thing life had to offer, and he priotized beyond anything else. The feeling was mutual; you wanted to live by that, if only your peers didn't make it sound so out of place. But you thought the least you could do to honour your philanthropic companion was to respect his beliefs.

"I'll be heading home... I'm heading to heaven. Gotta prepare for his arrival." Your eyes were lost staring at some rock on the ground before retreating away and weaving. "Bye, bye."

"You're sure-" Aziraphale tried, but you were already gone, middling in the crowd where you belonged. A faceless stranger that no one recognised. You turned your blindness spell on and flew up in the sky. You glanced down on the pair and laughed to yourself while aiming. Hopefully you wouldn't have to shoot them again, but come on: how many more arrows would this bound need ?

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41 A.D. Rome

Your invisible form was flying through the streets of Rome at a daring speed. Footsteps running on stone pavers and clothing rubbing against the rough surfaces of the city walls rang in the air. The giggles of the youthful couple were mixing with your own as you twirled around in pure delight. Oh, the sheer happiness of being young and deeply believing that their first love story would last forever.

It might be surprising to hear for some, but cupids were not shooting at every couple. It is your principal job, but most importantly, you were supposed to make sure the world's boundaries were constantly supplied with love. Of course, bounds were the most secure way of ensuring it; not every love story was meant to last forever. And young love is one of the most powerful types, beside unconditional love, as it is filled with hope and innocence.

The young man suddenly grabbed his lover's hand and pulled him into a small, secluded alley. You clapped your hands and soared up in the sky to land on the rooftop of a house. You crawled your way to the hedge of it and gawked down on them with a wide smile. The smaller boy was backed against the wall while his partner was smothering him with kisses on her nose, cheeks, and throat. His arms were passed around his neck as he hugged him lovingly. You supported your head with your hands settled against your cheeks.

The taller boy separated himself from his neck, and he used this opportunity to kiss him passionately. A huge wave of love came rushing up to you, and you inhaled it with vigour, both with your nose and mouth. It raised you on your knees and made you fall down on your back. You basked in the reinvigorating feeling and strung out profusely. The cold stone made the exposed skin of your legs shudder, but the warmth you felt in your heart surpassed any other sensations. It filled your stomach, and you were completely sated.

You hummed deliciously and observed the sky. Now, you were thirsty and still riled up from the emotion, and as always, you didn't know how to manage the thrills coursing through your system. As you came to understand, humans had different ways of dealing with such stirs. The more your body experienced, the more you contemplated your options; you just didn't have the guts to try. Whether it was food, sleep, or sex, You didn't know why; you just had that urge to be human.

Of course, it was absolutely inconceivable for your fellow angels and certainly for the demons too, if you were honest. It was just a different side of yourself that you started to discover. As strange as it is to say, acknowledging to yourself that you made terrible mistakes on Earth made you feel wonderfully uninhibited. You just lack the courage and actual safety to try.

Being unable to talk to anyone about it made you feel so insecure and scared. What if something went wrong ? What if your gifted body wasn't made to experiment anything 'humanly'? Oh Jesus, what if you exploded?! Yes, you had an inexplicable fear of exploding, and you had no idea where it came from. You just needed someone to... Well, actually, you just needed someone.

You rolled to your side and listed all the endeavours you wanted to throw yourself into when you felt an oddly familiar presence. You were alone most of the time; no one was really 'homey' in your heart. So, you kept rolling towards the busiest street, forsaking the lovey-dovey couple. It was a restaurant, and a busy one at that. Still, you managed to spot a red-headed man with much shorter hair than you remembered.

You looked down at your hands, still doubting the choice you made eight years ago. To appease your mind, you slipped down and called off the spell. Maybe they were on a date. Did they eat food ? Yes, you had your priorities neatly organised.

You peeked the upper part of your head through the door frame and found Crowley sitting alone on a stool. Scanning around the restaurant, you were met with the queer sight of Aziraphale playing on his own. Well, maybe it was a tradition of theirs...

"What have you got? Give me a jug of whatever you think is drinkable." He leisured. It peaked your interest, but you didn't initiate any movements. You watched intently when you saw Aziraphale get up from his seat and go up to the demon.

"Crawley- Crowley ? Well, fancy running into you here." Damn, they are definitely the least communicative couple you have ever encountered! Certainly, a bound like that would make it so much harder for them to be apart. You flashed your eyes pink, and that was when you summoned your vision. And you felt like screaming. Their link was still incomplete !

"Y/N ? Golly, it's quite a reunion." Aziraphale chuckled, clapping his hands. He gestured for you to come to the counter too. Unsure, you tiptoed your way towards them. Your mouth opened slightly when you saw the two drinks lying there.

Aziraphale followed your eyes and chirped. "Oh, where are my manners? Would you like a drink too, dear ?"

You blushed and started playing with your fingers. "I never consumed anything from Earth." The stutters you let out doubled the intensity of your embarrassment.

"Anything ?" Crowley insinuated, even though you didn't catch what he meant. The angel did, though, and tsked in a reprimanding tone.

"Still a demon, then?" He gave him a side eye.

The redhead snarked in response. "What kind of stupid question is that,'still a demon?' What else am I going to be, an aardvark?" The angel didn't listen, however, and ordered a drink for you.

You looked down, feeling like you were overstepping a private discussion. Sheesh, your shot has been totally useless, heh? You were really good for nothing, cupid, now were you? "It's really nice of you, but..."

"Here you go, apple and pear juice." The bartender served you right before you could slip away. You eyed the goblet and sniffed the sweet smell of appel and pear, the scent of endermant.

"Don't worry, the taste is way sweeter than house brown; it'll be easier for a first try." His round hand was handing you the drink, and you gently grabbed it, brushing your fingers against his. Bubbles were twirling in your stomach at his consideration.

"Thanks." You mumbled. Crowley huffed with a smirk. When you met his gaze shyly, he winked and grabbed his own cup. A gentle and warm sensation envelopped your body, and you held your cup closer to yourself.

"Salutaria." Aziraphale cheered and went to clank both of your goblets. You and Crowley met him in the hallway, and the vibrations caused your skin to create goosebumps. You enjoyed the feeling, especially when you ran your fingers alongside the texture, like you were doing unconsciously on your right arm. Freezing mid-thought, you rushed to see that your heavily scarred forearm was exposed for anyone to see.

Hiding it in such a hurry caused the pair to study you. You forced out a laugh and raised your glass again. "Heh, a moment of hesitation." You said this before bringing the cup to your lips. In the corner of your sight, you saw the angel moisten his lips.

"So, why are you in Rome for?" Crowley wondered, not caring at all for your discovery, as he finished his drink. You hummed in delight; your taste buds felt like exploding. You darted your tongue out and rolled it around the bit of honeyed pear that couldn't quite enter your mouth. Crowley gulped audibly, as he apparently didn't finish his bevarage as you thought he did.

"Mmh... I thought I'd try Petronius' new restaurant." Adding to the fruity liquid, a heavy wave of macarons and rosé made its way to your nose. You laughed breathlessly, and you were brought back to the conversation. "I hear it does remarkable things to oysters."

"I've never eaten an oyster." Crowley confessed. Do people eat rocks? You tilted your head, confused.

"Oh, well, let me tempt you to..." Aziraphale started, making you gasp.

You weren't the only one spurred up by the vocabulary of the angel; Crowley suddenly turned around to meet his gaze. That is when you noticed he covered his eyes. Despite this, Crowley still looked somewhat exasperated for some reason but was giving hints of macarons as well. Perphas, they were so flustered because you caught them on their date.

"No, that's—that's your job, isn't it?" His expression was tight, laughing through his teeth, his eyes going back and forth between the two of you.

To make sure you weren't the problem, you tried to suggest you join them on their little trip. "I might try an oyster."

He sputtered, realising the mistake he had made. "Oh God... Mh, the taste might be a bit too rich for you." You licked your lips, chasing the saccharine flavour. Crowley looked etched and suggested something out of sympathy.

"They'll be simpler food..."

You put the goblet down and backed. "Don't mind me, I'll see myself out; I still have some, huh, miracles to do!" It was a lie, of course; your lot didn't perform miracles on a daily basis, but you didn't think much of it. Oddly enough, lying didn't bother you that much.

You were so ashamed. You didn't understand why your bow didn't work. Some couples weren't easy to finalise, but you had already shot them twice. Plus, their bound wasn't strained or weak; it wasn't a technical mistake. So why ? "Have fun." You hoped your smile would encourage them to dine together, in spite of your interruption.

"Y/N-" The crowd already covered your body, while you wasted no time scampering away. The moment you were out of breath, you had arrived at the market. Inhaling deeply, you straightened yourself up, trying to sort out your thoughts. Obviously, something was wrong, whether it had to do with you or with them. If it failed not only once but twice, it's because it wasn't meant to be at all. Continuing would be pointless; you had to give them up. You had to.

Why, in the name of love, could you not make up your mind around the idea? Why couldn't you shake off the feeling of excitement you felt when those two were together? Certainly, a bound that would send such love could not be a miscalculation. They made you feel so good, and the theory of your possible addiction is becoming much more plausible now. But you refused to get addicted to them. You had to leave them; if they were meant to end up together, they would eventually do it on their own.

"Would you like to try an oyster, dear customer ?" A merchant interpellated you, since you had stopped only a few steps away. You observed the display of rocks and took a curious look at the seller.

"How do you eat them?" You asked.

"It's easy; come see." He called you over. First, he held the head in a firm grip and brought a knife to the tail of the pebble. He then twisted the knife around and finally slipped it inside. You raised one brow at your own dirty mind and looked away. Finally, as you didn't watch the rest of the show, he levelled the now-open rock to your face. "And you eat what's inside."

You studied the bogger-like thing and sluppered the whole thing, afraid of the taste. And surprising enough, you loved the taste of it, even if the viscous consistency made it hard for you to properly touch it with your tongue. You wondered what it would have been like if you went with Aziraphale and Crowley.

Jesus, you wanted to slap yourself. Stop thinking about them; you couldn't break your new resolution so quickly. And still, the thoughts kept rushing in! How caring the angel had been when he offered you a gentler beverage. The strange device that rested on Crowley's nose, which hid his pretty yellow eyes, The visible fluffiness of Aziraphale's whole being. Or the sweet gesture Crowley had for you, even though you had imposed yourself between him and the white-haired man.

Ok, you are ceasing at all, Y/N; this is ridiculous. You just had to be a burden, now don't you? All of a sudden, a hand tapped on your shoulder, but you were too irritated to answer politely.

"What ?" You snapped and shook the hand right off your shoulder.

And you turned around. You were sadly met with a slack-jawed Mihael, a colleague and former friend of yours, before the war. She was walking—well, you thought she did—but she still floated a few inches above the ground. Her dark pink eyes scanned your face, your fully expressive face, and trailed down to where you lay. She saw you eating, walking, and feeling. Oh God, she saw you snap, broodi, and enjoy. Worst of all, she was, out of all the cupids, the most documented about your situation. Mihael knew. It made her terribly dangerous.

"Please..." You pleaded, reaching out to her, but it only made it worse. She pranced as if she had been burned by your aching hands. Wors couldn't align together.

"Mihael, wait !" You ran after her, but she had already taken off and activated her blindness spell. "No, for heaven's sake !" You then tried to scream your disapproval out of your heart. Running away was the first thing that popped into your mind. Maybe go to the bottom of the abyss to properly cool down. That's how Mihael would come back, or if you were summoned, you'd be perfectly capable of faking your emptiness.

You sighed and detected the scent of desire. It was a brothel—a fancy one. You contemplated the idea of entering and finally deciding to indulge in your sinful interests. Hey, you were about to spend a fair amount of time away from all civilization, not even having light as your company. It would just be another line you'd cross, but you stopped counting the moment you bound an angel and a demon together.Oh God, could you just stop thinking about it? Ugh...

*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-* 

1354, Balkan merchant caravan, Greece

"We can't just keep every infant we find, Y/N. She's not our kin." Elif lectured you severely. Who was Elif, you may ask? He's the head of the merchant group you've been following for a couple of months. You had met him and his wife a few years ago, for obvious reasons, and now you travel with them in the hope of providing the parental love the two craved.

However, they were never able to conceive. So when you found this little baby girl, you knew she needed them as much as they needed her. Convincing Nazli was easy, Elif—eh, not so much. He wouldn't have an unknown baby as his child.

"We will give her to the next village with a stop-by, and that's final." He gave you a stern look and walked away to the group of men gathering around the fire.

It would have been easy to use an emotional orb to persuade him to keep her, but you knew their link would be hollow and fake; it would never last. You sighed and caressed the chubby face wrapped in a tight blanket, nested in the woman's arms. Her eyes pleaded your way, and you sent her a wave of reassurance.

"I'll take care of it, love. Don't worry." You smiled. You jumped out of the caravan and stretched your arms and back. The night sky was truly a beauty. On the day of your creation, though it's all a blur, you remember that it was also the same day all the stars were brought into existence. It was incredible, a majestic moment you wished you could recall more clearly, but your mind was funny like that.

You sighed, the memories of your last meeting with Mihael coming back to the surface, as you did four hundred years after you spent sleeping in the ocean. Honestly, you didn't mean to sleep; it was just all so peaceful, you couldn't help it. She hadn't said anything to Jophiel or Chamuel, not even her own linked! You were so thankful for that. Adriel was a real pain in the ass.

She came to you, more worried than anything else. I apologise until your ears bleed; you still didn't show the full spectrum of your emotions. You didn't trust her. All Mihael did was warn you, advise you to show minimal emotion, and keep better track of your environment.

Following her recommendation, you strayed from your kindness while still providing enough love so they would let you be. Through all your experiences, the distance between you and your peers grew larger, and even if you shared your emotional capacity, you knew you were a freak. It was all too strong. You felt alone in your emotions. Alone in the world. Under the vast canopy of the night sky, with stars twinkling like distant beacons of hope, you stood alone in the deserted land, your heart heavy with a profound sense of isolation. The world around her seemed to fade into insignificance as she gazed up at the infinite expanse above, feeling small and insignificant against the backdrop of the cosmos.

As you traced the patterns of constellations with your weary eyes, a wave of emptiness washed over you, engulfing you in a sea of solitude. Each glittering star seemed to mock you with its unreachable brilliance, a reminder of the vast distances that separated you from the rest of your kind. The soft breeze brushed your hair, bringing along a particular smell. Images of a certain red-haided demon flashed through your mind. A gasp fell out of your lips, and your heart swelled, beating wildly. You searched franticly, bouncing on your toes.

The moment you spot him, you want to rush and greet him, but his posture and behaviour stop you. Crowley is standing next to a caravan, seemingly hiding behind it. Confused, you take baby steps towards him and wait. Once you arrive near him, you get to see what he was watching.

Thieves and barbarians were steathly making their way down the hilltop to the merchants. They were barely visible to the eye; the bright glow of the campfire seemed to warn the good people, but no one seemed to notice. You bit down on your lip when you realised it was certainly your friend's work. Friend ? You meant the client. The anger you felt wasn't directed at him, and it surprised you.

Well, no, what surprised you the most was his next action. While you thought Crowley was here to supervise everything that went smoothly, he instead did something unexpected. He straightened up, raised his hand, and snapped his fingers. You frowned, completely lost. Now, you were standing right behind him, peeking to see the scene unfold.

A huge piece of marchandise rolled out of a cart, one facing the approaching criminals. Elif, who had been conversing with his men, snapped his eyes at the bag before scanning the area around it. Including the bushy hill. The man spotted the group and alerted the others to get ready to fight or hide. You gasped and glanced over Nazli and the baby, but they were far enough away and well hidden.

Your eyes soften at the realisation of what Crowley just did. He also seemed quite satisfied with his actions, and you knew he was congratulating himself. Yeah, you smelled the mix of whipped cream and blueberries. A smug smirk appeared on your face, and you decided to scare him just a bit.

"How much has changed since I left?" You spoke up playfully, making sure to be as sudden as possible. And your wish was answered when Crowley spun around violently, screaming and bolting away from you.

You laughed despite yourself, but the demon was too stunned to really care. "Y/N ?! You scared the hell out of me!" He crowed.

"It seems like you didn't need my help for that." You accused me teasingly, a brow raised.

His widened eyes finally shrank down, and he gulped. "It's not what it looks like." His voice sounded almost pleading, tugging at your heartstrings.

"Crowley, it's okay. I ain't going to denounce you." You took a step forward and tilted your head. "But I will ask you questions." The struggles of battle could be heard, with the thieves charging at the campers.

He groaned and ran a hand in his hair. It grew longer since the last time, probably multiple times since it had been centuries since you two encountered each other. It seemed to be tied into a low ponytail, and his clothes were still as black as the night, in comparison to yours, which were always colourful.

"So... why are you doing the angels work ?"

He sighed and took some time to respond, allowing the gooshing sound of blood hitting the ground to fill the air. "I guess I could tell you..." Crowley took off his glasses and searched into your eyes. In return, you offered him an encouraging smile.

"Me and Aziraphale made an arrangement... We stay out of each other's way and help when we can." He crossed his arm against his chest, leaning again against the caravan.

"Seem simple enough..." You shrugged before frowning. "Don't... don't Heaven and Hell suspect anything ?" Your voice reflects your concern.

A dagger was thrown your way. Crowley grabbed onto your sleeve and pulled you out of its trajectory, next to him. "Nah, they never suspect anything; you know how they are." He tried to act casual, but you did smell relieved that you didn't freak out.

You hummed and chuckled. "Yeah.." A kind of comfortable relationship settled between the two of you, but you couldn't shake the awakening remaining. Leaving abruptly and disaperating for centuries will do that for you.

"Where have you been ?" The redhead inquired.

You inhaled deeply before answering. "I visited the abyss for a while, and... I kind of fell asleep."

Crowley's impressed smile echoed your embarrassed one when he turned toward you. "You fell asleep ?" He nagged with a chuckle. "For how long ?"

"For about four centuries..." You rubbed the back of your head. The air abruptly carried the piercing cries of the infant, grabbing your attention and sending them right back to your clients. You gasped sharply and held your breath. Two barbarians were sprinting towards the poor woman and the baby. Nazli did her best at keeping them at bay, swinging her sabre around and cutting them off enough to prevent them from getting closer. But their patience was running thin.

"Nazli !" Alerted by gut-wrenching cries, Elif called out to his wife, his eyes widening with terror. But he had no time to think; no, he rushed into action. The chief slashed his way to his love, not stopping for anything. Not even the cart right in front of him, where you and Crowley were currently leaning against.

"Wow." The two of you mused in chorus as the chief jumped right over your heads and landed right behind the two men. He brought his long, curvy dagger to the first's throat and slit it wide open. The cries of the baby kept ranging through the air as you watched in awe and slight disgust as the crimson liquid poured down in a thick puddle on the soil.

"Ew." You murmured, earning a scoff from Crowley, who observed the scene with arms crossed over his chest. The other thief punched Elif in the face, but he couldn't care less. He spit out a mixture of blood and saliva and then plunged his dagger into the attacker's chest with all the rage he could muster.

"Mh, talk about killing for love." Crowley commented. But didn't answer. Instead, you looked at the scene tenderly. Elif helped his wife get out of the caravan, putting his hands around her and the baby. That's when the infant instinctively grabbed onto the man's finger. By the way his breath caught in his throat, you knew it pulled right at his heartstrings. You couldn't help but smile like a complete goof.

After what felt like hours, the marchants finally won their battle. Now was the time to mend wounds and sooth souls. Crowley stayed with you the entire night, giving you two hours to catch up. And despite how much you struggled to admit it, you did enjoy spending time with him. Not because he was a dreadful company, quite the opposite. But you knew you had to keep your distance.

Right now, you sat next to each other, watching the spouses cuddle the baby. In the soft glow of the rising dawn, Elif and Nazli sat side by side next to the fire, their hands clasped together in a silent gesture of love and solidarity. The room was bathed in the warm hues of sunrise, casting a soft, golden light upon their faces.

"Nazli." Her husband began, his voice filled with emotion, "I've been thinking a lot about what you said... Maybe we should take her in."

Nazli's eyes lit up with delight, her heart swelling with gratitude for the man she loved more than words could express. You swore in that instead, as you smelt the intoxicating scent of love, you could sink back into the deep abyss and leave solely on the memory of their love.

"Oh, Elif.." She exclaimed, her voice trembling with emotion. "Do you really mean it ?"

Elif nodded, a smile spreading across his face as he reached out to gently caress his wife's cheek. "Yes." He replied, his voice filled with conviction, "I mean it with all my heart. I want nothing more than to offer you the family you always wanted." His hand caressed the small baby's hair. "Offer her the family she needs. Little Qamirah." He smiled foundly.

Tears of joy welled in Nazli's eyes as she threw her right arm around her husband, pulling him into a tight embrace. "Thank you, my love," she whispered, her voice choked with emotion. You smiled tenderly and glanced towards Crowley, your hand gesturing to the couple. He smiled softly and rolled his eyes in anoyance, but you knew how he truly felt.

You retreated from the wholesome, resting your head back against the wooden cart. "Maybe this deal isn't such a bad idea after all."

Crowley mirrored your chuckle. "I guess you could be added to the contract." He jested teasingly.

You gasped happily and smiled. "Really ?"

"Sure, but it'd be best if you stayed on the surface of Earth for that." He nudged your elbow with his own.

"Don't worry." You streched your back and raised your covered arms high in the sky.

Crowley frowned as he took notice of the clothing. "Afraid you'll get a tan?" He teased.

You bit your lip and caressed your right arm. "Nah, more like a fashion choice." You winked. Crowley laughed hoarsely and then streched up his arm. You watched softly as he got up and dusted himself off.

"I'd love to stay, but I got some reel demonic work to do." He waved off and had already started to walk away. In a matter of seconds, you got up and followed after him. Somehow, you didn't want to let him leave, at least not this way.

"Wait !" You called, and Crowley stopped midstep.

"What ?" He turned softly.

Instead of answering, you sprinted towards your caravan and grabbed a plant you had snatched when you went to the other side of Earth and spent time with the Tupi-Guarani ivilization. They have wonderful, complex social structures, rich oral traditions, and extensive knowledge of the natural world. Ah, what a wonderful vacation !

You pulled out the plant; they called it the flower of the moon. It was a stunning plant, prized for its graceful, glossy foliage and elegant white flowers. With its lush, dark green leaves that arch gracefully from the base, the moon flower produces delicate, white flowers with a central spadix surrounded by a white, petal-like spathe. "There you go!" You handed it to him with a bright smile.

Crowley observed this little beauty of nature before looking up at you with an unimpressed expression. "A plant ?"

You rolled your eyes. "Not just a plant, a moon flower. But it's so great to have one of those! You never really feel alone."

His bright yellow eyes stared into your own before he smirked. "It was time for you to emmerge, sweetheart." He nagged.

You pouted and nudged his arm. "Shush. Take the plant, a gift for everything you taught me." He groaned and took it anyway.

"Just so you know, if it dies, it's not my fault." His warning made you chuckle.

"I'll keep that in mind." You winked. "Thank you for your help." He simply nodded as a goodbye before disappearing from thin air.

As you stood there, you felt loneliness crawling its way back onto your shoulders. All the while you stayed with the demon, you never once felt alone. And more than that, you truly experience true understanding, and it was so refreshing... The irony of the situation was truly oddly amusing to you. You didn't trust another cupid, one of your kind, to display every emotion you could have. But it felt so natural to do so with a guardian angel and a demon. Swallowing with difficulty, you observed the newly founded family and felt something echo deep into your soul.

You laughed—a mixture of disbelief and strange relief. Not only were you one of a kind, but you also found out that you weren't alone in this. Yep, maybe you could indulge yourself in their company... Just a tinsy bit...

*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-* 

1793, La Bastille, Paris

"Rattrapes la, bon sang!" You yelled at the young woman, hoping she would finally decide to run after her friend.

"Non, Y/N." She dismissed her sternly, though the tears threatened to leave her eyes. "Elle a fait son choix; c'est son problème." Turning away from you, she hid her feelings for her friend from you. At least she tried.

You groaned and added exasperation. "Elle a juste eu peur, Lucie. Robespierre est en train de couper des têtes à la volée; c'est tout à fait normal!" Lucie's 'roomate' Madeleine had joined her during the revolution, but the more the franzy took over, the more scared she became. People began beheading anyone who was against the Republic ideology, which included severing the heads of nicely dressed people.

Obviously, an argument ensued, and Madeleine decided to run away from Paris all together, to be safe from all the madness. Lucie wanted to stay, to continue the fight, but you knew she loved her more than anything. And here you were stuck between the two, trying desperately to smooth things over and reunite them. Which was insanely difficult.

"Alors quoi, tu vas la laisser partir? Ne plus jamais la revoir?" You tried to reason with her.

"Absolument !" She exclaimed and threw her hands in the air, acting like a spoiled brat. All of this was still too fresh. Lucie was immensly offended and hurt by her lover's words; there was no way to calm her down right this moment.

So you sighed and ruffled your hair. "D'accord, si c'est ce que tu veux..." Softly, you turned away from her. "Mais n'oublies pas qu'elle ne part que demain matin... agis avant que tu le regrettes." You threw her one last glance towards her, giving her time to pound.

As you made your way towards the square, you saw a couple young men tearing out pavers from the street and children gathering wood for their home. The city streets bustled with the fervour of revolution, while you kept seeking solace amidst the chaos that engulfed the lovely city. The distant echoes of revolutionary chants mingled with the clatter of horse-drawn carriages and the murmur of lively conversations, creating a symphony of sound that enveloped you in a cocoon of anonymity.

With each step you took, you felt the echo of Lucie's convictions pressing down on your stomach—the burden of long, agonising memories hanging over your heart, ready to come crashing down any second. The events of the day had left you shaken and unsettled, your mind swirling with thoughts of rebellion and resistance that once again didn't originate from you.

As you kept walking, you found yourself drawn towards the quieter corners of the city, away from the tumultuous crowds and swirling currents of political intrigue. Picking up a small yarrow, you softly palyed with it in between your fingers. As you wandered through narrow alleyways adorned with quaint cafes and bustling market stalls, your sensitive nose smelled of Parisian life and emotions.

With each passing moment, the rhythm of your footsteps became a mantra, a soothing cadence that calmed your racing thoughts and grounded her in the present moment. The cool night air brushed against your skin as you rolled up your sleeves, enjoying the relaxing wind on your scarred arm. The scent of freshly baked bread and aromatic spices was a comforting reminder of the simple pleasures that still existed amidst the turmoil of the revolution.

Slowly, you allowed yourself to be swept away by the beauty of your surroundings, finding solace in the timeless elegance of Parisian architecture and the soft glow of gas lamps that illuminated the streets like beacons of hope in the darkness. You brought the small white flower up to your nose and inhaled its scent deeply.

And as you flew up to a moonlight-bathed rooftop, you closed your eyes and took a deep breath, allowing yourself to bask in the stillness of the sky. Reajusting your red béret on your head correctly, your eyes suddenly snapped down to two guards guiding an overly dressed and white figure away towards the Place de la Révolution, where the crowd was gathered around the guillotine.

And you knew who he was, for sure. "Oh God, Aziraphale..." You sighed and shook your head. The angel had quite particular taste in clothing, so it wasn't really a surprise when you spot him parade in Paris with such expensive clothes. Yeah, he always had a way to miss social clues. So, you flew back, saying farewell to your newly found peace, and followed them from a safe distance.

For your part, you dressed as the typical revolutionary Parisian, while slightly more colourful, so you had no trouble sneaking inside the prison, dodging the aristocrats being taken away by the very clear slashing sounds and screams coming from the lace. You kept searching among the moist cobblestones until you heard Aziraphale's gentle voice.

"Look, this is all a terrible mistake." He assured me while you slowly peeked your head from behind the cold stone wall. "I don't think you understand."

"I have good news for you. You are the 999th aristocrat to die at the guillotine by my hand." The man affirmed himself cheerfully, like a proud collector. "But the first English." You rolled your eyes at the statement, still waiting for the right moment to interfere. Why did Aziraphale not consider using a miracle? Why risk discorporation, especially such a painful one ?

"Now..." The man started before you heard him move around.

Before you understood what he was doing, Aziraphale got up, his chains clanking on the ground. "Please ! No."

You frowned, anger bubbling in your stomach and your teeth gritting. No way I'm letting him hurt Aziraphale... A rush of adrenaline washed over you, but just before you could intervene, a voice spoke from behind you.

"How about we help our little friend, mh ?"

A loud, high-pitched yelp escaped from your throat, and you turned violently around. Crowley was looking at you through his sunglasses and mocking a smurk on his lips. You let out the breath you kept in your lungs and growled.

"Don't do that." You scowled.

He shrugged and leaned over the prison cell. "It's just payback, sweetheart." He mumbled in a low voice and snapped his fingers, causing your brow to raise.

"Animals." The angel grumbled, deeply reproachful. You smiled and pushed the cell door open.

"Animals don't kill each other with clever machines, angel." Crowley said before sitting down nonchalantly.

"I'm afraid only humans do that." You added, standing with your hands behind your back.

"You..." Aziraphale sighed, and you smelled utter relief emitting from him. "Good Lord..." He smiled, rolling his eyes. You close up to him and gently remove the chains from his wrists. Your eyes trailed on his clothes, and you scoffed. Long white coat, richly decorated vest, obviously tailored pants, gee... The only thing you missed was the way your friend looked down at your hands, his breathing picking up slightly.

"What the deuce are you doing locked up in the Bastille?" Crowley inquired from his corner. "I thought you were opening a book shop."

"In London, nontheless." You finally got rid of the metal and let it fall loudly to the ground. Stepping away from him, the angel had space to take a deep breath and explain himself.

"Well, I was. I got peckish." He pouted, rubbing his bruising wrists.

Crowley smirked. "Peckish ?"

Aziraphale couldn't meet your gaze as you tasted funnel cake in the air. He rubbed the back of his neck. "Well, if you must know, it was the crêpes." You chuckled in response.

"Crêpes ? Don't they make 'em in England?"

"Not as good as the ones you find in Paris, that's for sure. Oh, and the brioche." He assured me, filled with conviction. You shook your head and kept laughing.

"So you just popped across the channel during a revolution because you wanted something to nibble?" The demon almost, ironically, lectured.

You shrugged. "Meh, I could understand. But not dressed like that, Azy." A smirk took place on your face.

He eyed you two up and down and then stated: "I have standards." In all your responses, you stuck out your tongue. "I did hear they were getting a bit carried away over here, but..."

"Yeah, this is not getting carried away. This is cutting off lots of people's heads very efficiently with a big head-cutting machine." The red head pointed out his slight resentment.

You nodded in agreement, but tried to bring up the positive. "At least, they are quite creative." But all you earned in return were jaded looks from your two clients. You raised up your hands to plead your innocence. "But, why didn't you miracle your way out?"

An effective way to change the subject. Aziraphale looked down once again. "Oh, I was reprimanded last month." You glanced towards Crowley, and you shared a knowing look. "They said I'd performed too many frivolous miracles. I got a strongly worded note from Gabriel."

Your lips twitched in a contrite pout. Only imagining what Chamuel would do if you ever got reported didn't settle quite with you, and the last thing you wanted was to bring to yourself. In a way, you were envious of how Aziraphale had even the chance to make a mistake.

Crowley stood up and strolled towards you. "Well, you're lucky I was in the area."

"We." You wasted no time correcting him.

Aziraphale scoffed. "I suppose I am." A soft smile appeared on his face, and the faintest blush appeared as he gawked at the two of you. "Why are you here?" He frowned.

"My lot sent me a commendation for outstanding job performance." The demon answered first, waving off his own statement.

Aziraphale gasped and got agitated again. "So all this is your demonic work?" He gestured towards the raging crowd.

"No. The humans thought it up themselves. Nothing to do with me." Now it was Crowley's turn to clear his name. So, there is a chance for you to restore your image.

"Heh, I told you, creative." You chirped proudly. But the same silence welcomed your words. You sighed, and your shoulders fell. "Fine..."

"Well..." Azirphale talked up again after a few seconds of judging silence. "I suppose I should say thank you for the, uh, rescue." He swung his arms from either side of his body softly.

"Don't say that." Crowley suddenly surged forward and snarled, startling you slightly. "If my people hear I join forces with an angel to save another, I'll be the one in trouble."

You sighed and rolled your eyes, already starting to walk away. Over the centuries, you learned to leave these two whenever they started to have a moment. "And my lot, do not send rude notes." Crowley's voice was fading and was replaced by your own footsteps.

"Well, anyway, I'm very grateful. What about if I buy you lunch?" Aziraphale offered. You stopped in the middle of the hallway and, at a turn, smiled, melancolic, before foresaking their conversation. Even though it didn't stop there.

"What do you think, Y/N?" The red head stopped mid-sentence as he noticed you were gone. He sighed and rolled his eyes. "What do they always do?"

Once again, you didn't join them for lunch. Why would you? They were just clients. You repeated this to yourself all the time, hoping one day it would finally make its way to your brain. But this desire never went away, despite how many times you echoed your words over and over again.

As the sun dipped below the horizon, casting a warm golden glow over the slowing city, you stepped out of a restaurant, crêpe in hand. Obviously, to avoid any unwanted attention, you made sure to pass by Lucie and, thank you enough, Madeleine. Quietly munching on your treat, you observed their bodies finally coming together. The tension that had lingered between them for so long seemed to melt away in the fading light, replaced by a tentative sense of reconciliation. They were a few feet away from each other, but still Lucie reached out tentatively, her hand trembling slightly as she touched the blonde's cheek, her eyes filled with regret and longing.

"Je suis désolée, Madeleine." She whispered softly, her voice barely audible above the gentle rustle of leaves. "Je n'ai jamais voulu te faire de mal." Tears softly formed in her eyes. "Je t'aime plus de tout au monde." She confessed, her voice breaking under the emotion.

Madeleine's eyes glistened with unshed tears as she reached out to clasp her lover's hand in her own, the relieving scent of forgiveness filling the air. "Je t'aime aussi, Lucie." She replied, her voice trembling with emotion. "J'ai juste eu tellement peur... tout ce qui passe en ce moment..." Her breath quickened once again through her fear.

"Je sais, je sais, et je m'en excuses. Mais je te promets qu'il ne t'arrivera jamais rien, jamais." She assured, so determined with the firm intention to protect Madeleine until her last breath.

And in that moment, as they sat together beneath the canopy of clouds, you felt a pang of longing tug at your heartstrings, a silent reminder of the feelings you had buried deep within your soul. It wasn't the first time you felt envious, but you would never let those feelings settle in your heart. The choice you made so many centuries ago will never change. However, as you watched from the sidelines, you were unable to recognise the truth that lay dormant within your own soul.

Lucie and Madeleine embraced, their love rekindled amidst the fragrant blooms and gentle whispers of the night, as they finally found solace in each other's arms. "Ça ira mon amour..." Lucie hugged Madeleine tightly against her chest as she continued to sob her relief and fear. "Ça ira pour toujours."

Yeah, it will be okay. You bit off a bit of your crêpe, the mixture of the taste of love and your little snack warming up your belly in the best way. You got up and stretched out your arm, bow in hand. And while you shot the two of them, you kept hoping that one day you would be at peace with your choice.

*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*

 

1811, Windsor Caslte, London

The grand ballroom shimmered under the warm glow of candlelight, its walls adorned with opulent tapestries and gilded accents. As the musicians tuned their instruments, the air buzzed with anticipation. Ladies draped in silk and lace, gentlemen adorned in tailored coats, assembled in a choreographed display of social refinement. As the orchestra struck the first notes, couples gracefully glided across the polished floor, engaged in the intricate steps of the minuet. The scent of perfumed wigs mingled with the delicate fragrance of flowers scattered throughout the hall. Servants discreetly circulated, offering glasses of fine wine to the elegantly attired guests. You swiftly grasped a glass and nodded to the young woman, thankfully.

Amidst the rhythmic rustle of silk and the subdued murmur of conversations, the atmosphere exuded a sense of sophistication and regality. The ball at the court of George III unfolded as a spectacle of grace, where every movement and gesture spoke the language of grace and societal hierarchy. You strolled among the crowd to fade into the background while observing two enemies dancing together. The line between love and hate was so thin. You couldn't help but feel drawn to them, despising the risk of facing a hate demon. She was sent to kill him, a duke, but they've been dancing for hours now. The tension was there—the ballroom, the dancing—if you wanted to, you could just send a wave of temerity, and the deal would be sealed!

I continued to stroll in a circle around the couple, listening to the music softly. You enjoyed the sweet melodies and the frail details of each note; it made your heart react differently to every song. You hummed the languishing melody as you closed up to the buffet, where you were met with a familiar presence. Your head softly snapped to study the table covered with baked goods, and you smiled brightly as you recognised the person. Rushing to his side, you wasted no time greeting him.

"Aziraphale !" You chirped as you stood a few feet away from him. The white-haired angel was startled, as he didn't expect you here, even less to catch him with his mouth full. He let out a muffled exclamation before swallowing with difficulty.

He coughed a bit before greeting you back. "Y/N, hello!" Aziraphale smiled and closed up to you ever so slightly. "Golly, I haven't seen you since the bastille." His whole presence was so warm, and you couldn't help but bask in it.

You nodded, still smiling like an idiot, as you looked at him up and down. "I'm relieved to see you understood how to dress according to the situation." You teased him playfully and nudged him gently. Worry had eaten you up for a long time since the last time you saw the trusting angel almost getting disintegrated, so it was refreshing to see him well and still so fluffy-looking.

"O-Oh.." He smiled, embarrassed, while rubbing where you had touched his arm. He laughed softly. "Yes, I learned my lesson well enough."

You grinned gently before grabbing a small snack from the display of food. "So, what have you been doing here?" You munched softly on the little dish before looking back up at him.

"Oh, well, I've been sent here to perform some miracles, as always." Aziraphale explained. "But I must admit that I stayed for the music and the food." He hummed as he picked out something too. "Ah !"

You laughed softly at him and took in the ballroom once more. "I see. It's nice to see another angel enjoying music too."

His eyes seemed to sparkle when he nodded. "Indeed, it is." He smiled, his squishy cheekbones raising up. Despite yourself, you couldn't help but blush at his attention, though you would not admit it. To shake those ideas out of your head and tilt your head towards the intricate dancing. "Even danced before?" You wondered, taking the last sip of your wine.

"Oh, heavens no..." Aziraphale dismissed you, while you still caught his yearning gaze directed to the dance floor. "Angels don't dance."

You raised your brows, your lips pouting in an agreeable manner. "True, but we are one of a kind." The smirk on your face was nothing but devilish.

He exhaled deeply and shook his head. "You spend too much time with Crowley." The last dance came to an end, and the room roared with delicate applause. Aziraphale kept fidgeting with his fingers, longing to join in on the next dance.

"By the way, I know the steps of the minuet." You trailed off casually. "I could guide you." A small grin creeped into the corner of your mouth.

His chest swelled quickly at your words. "You do?"

twirledYou didn't ans;er him, instead, you giggled and led him to the dance floor. In the dimly lit ballroom, the strains of a delicate melody of the song 'St James' House' twirling in the air. With a gentle yet firm touch, you guided him through the intricate steps of the dance, your movements fluid and effortless. As you two glided across the polished floor, your poised demeanour contrasted with the angel's tentative strides, yet he followed your lead with a mixture of awe and determination. His steps faltered occasionally, but your encouraging smile and subtle corrections kept him in rhythm. With each turn and twirl, you conveyed a seemingly lifetime of experience, while Aziraphake, with his earnest enthusiasm, added a sense of freshness and spontaneity to your performance.

He had the happiest grin on his face while gracefully gravitating around one another. "You're doing great."

His cheeks were coloured a soft pink. "It's so much better than I could imagine."

"You shouldn't be afraid to do what your heart wants because you dread what others might think." You chuckled and squeezed his hand.

His brown eyes met yours, and you smelled cypress and pitaya. The words escaped your mouth before you could think; they shocked both of you but truly conflicted him. And you wanted to slap yourself with your own hyprocrisy. However, Aziraphale didn't give your dark thoughts enough time to form.

"Sometimes I wish..." He whispered, looking down at his feet. You gave him time to form his words correctly, gently leading the dance. "I wish I wasn't attached to Heaven." He was truthfully letting his vulnerability out, trusting you with ideas that could get him erased. "Not that I want to be a demon; far from that! But... at least not having so many restrictions and rules."

"I understand how you feel; it's the way Heaven does things. I find it odd and... cruel." Under the facade of elegance and refinement, a sense of unease hung heavy in the air, casting a shadow over the grandeur of the evening. You two kept twirling and spinning, your steps now synchronised in perfect harmony. With each turn and dip, no one could suspect how you spoke in hushed tones of the injustices and inequalities that plagued the very system they were sworn to uphold.

"It's unfathomable." Aziraphale murmured, his voice tinged with frustration, as he guided Amelia through a graceful turn. "How can we claim to be the arbiters of justice when we let incommensurable horrors happen on Earth ?"

Your brow furrowed in agreement as she met Aziraphale's gaze, a silent acknowledgment of the harsh realities they both faced. "Indeed," she replied, her voice tinged with sadness. "I also had been exposed to a certain... hypocrisy." You kept escaping his gaze. "But at least, I think we can find beauty in the fact that despite all the hate in the world..."

You trailed off your last words, preferring to watch over the angel's shoulder and see your two clients still dancing with ardor. Their movements were a silent protest against the injustices that permeated their world, a defiant assertion of their shared belief in a better, more equitable future. A hope that encouraged them to share a kiss instead of guiding each other to their deaths. You smiled softly and led Aziraphale towards the outlet of the dance floor, as you had an arrow to shoot. "Most humans choose love."

As you finished your sentence, you reached the rest of the ballroom. Aziraphale's mouth was slightly open, as if totally mismerized by words. On instinct, you chuckled and kissed his cheek. "Sorry, Az, I have to go, but it was so good to see you again!" You chirped and fantastically ignored the angel's blush. "Bye, bye! Smooches !"

And you left, bouncing up and down and disappearing in the crowd. But you couldn't resist a last little peek. As you did, you catched Aziraphale, pressing his hand to his cheek with eyes wide open. You giggled. Sometimes you forget how angels aren't used to being physical; you have to cut him some slack.

*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-* 

1862, St. James Park, London

In the tranquil setting of the park, you stood next to the serene pond where ducks paddled lazily through the shimmering waters. With each gentle toss of seeds, you watched as the ducks eagerly darted forward, their feathers ruffling with excitement as they pecked at the scattered treats. You were waiting near the Aziraphale and Crowley, discretely, of course, and waiting to see the result of your new attempt. You had tried a new technique and sincerly hoped it worked this time.

Lost in the soothing rhythm of your task, Sarah hardly noticed the passage of time as she waited for her friend, Alex, to arrive. But as the minutes stretched into hours, a frown creased her brow, and a sense of unease began to gnaw at her. Finally, you spotted Crowley alone, striding towards you, his brow furrowed and his expression clouded with frustration. Your heart sank as you recognised the telltale signs of a heated altercation, and you braced yourself for the storm that was about to come.

As he approached, he stomped his foot heavily on the ground beside you, his movements stiff and tense. Sensing the tension radiating from her friend, she hesitated for a moment before tentatively reaching out to lay a hand on his arm, a silent gesture of comfort and support.

He groaned loudly and kept fidgeting and squirming around; it was obvious he didn't handle frustration really well. "I can't believe him!"

You chuckled and turned back to the pound. "It's good to see you too, Crowley." You smirked.

"Yeah, yeah..." He dismissed me but didn't ask anything. Without another word, he reached into his pocket and withdrew a crumpled paper bag, tossing a handful of breadcrumbs into the pond with more force than necessary, causing the ducks to scatter.

"Don't feed them bread!" You slapped his hand to stop him, causing all the crumbs to fall to the ground.

He frowened and shook his hand to nub the pain. "Why ?"

"It's bad for them! There." You stood up and gave him your small bag. "Give them some cracked corn, or even peas is fine!"

Crowley nodded absently and started throwing the seeds inside the lake in a more calm manner now.

“So, what did Aziraphale do to piss you off this time?” You grinned softly. 

He didn't smirk like he used to. Nor even scoff. You turned to him and realised he was playing with the small, empty bag. You frowned slightly and inhaled deeply. Rusty metal and tuna filled up your nose, making you fully turn. Why was he feeling guilty?

“Was it something you did?” You guessed in a soft voice, trying to show him you wouldn't judge him if he made a mistake.

He groaned and took off his glasses to rub his face. His bright yellow eyes met yours, and you saw doubt. What wasn't he ready to tell you? After everything you had discussed.

“If it’s something you said, I'm sure it can be dealt with.” You smiled reassuringly.

He shook his head and faced you slowly. “It's something I asked.” His answer was evasive, but at least he was giving you hints.

You nodded absently, though you didn't know what Crowley could have possibly asked that Aziraphale wouldn't allow. “Did you ask to buy a book?” 

He scoffed out a laugh. “I wouldn't dare.” 

“Then what?” You pressed in a near whine. Crowley lost his smile and looked back ahead. 

His chest rose in a deep inhale, and he reached in his pocket for a piece of oddly wet paper. With a scrunched nose, you took the slimy paper and opened it. And what you read made you feel what other cupids thought you always did. Dead serious.

“What…w-what..” You coughed and blinked repeatedly. “Why would you need that?” 

He was fixed on your face, examining your reaction. “For insurance. In case the deal goes wrong." 

“It's too dangerous.” You took a step back. Anger started to bubble in your stomach. Why ? You couldn't exactly pinpoint it. Maybe it was against Crowley for ever considering such an idea. Or against yourself for participating in a deal that you knew could bring mountains of troubles. You squished the paper in your hand and miracled it away. The red-haired man sighed next to you.

"Fine, take his side; I don't. As I said to him, I got other people to 'fraternize with, some more open-minded people." He pestered you, but you didn't miss the smell of hurt. You huffed anyway and frowned.

"Yeah, right, go on then. Go tell your demon friends how eager you are to get your hands on this; I'm sure they'll be thrilled!" You snarled and threw the last bit of seed into the water, miraculously not hitting any ducks. Not wanting to stay any longer, you left, purposely stepping on the ground harder than necessary.

In an effort to clear your mind, you strolled through the park while the regular questions came running back to you. Why, when you shoot an arrow at them, it doesn't complete their bound but instead leads them apart even more? What were you doing wrong? It often confused you and kept gnawing at your brain, so very often. You entered a part of the park filled with roses of all sorts, similar to the different types of affection and love. Because flowers tend to represent the variety of loves that exist in the world. White roses for young love, pink roses for gentle love... And in the case of this one, you weren't sure.

While you observed this new rose, you failed to notice the angel's presence right at the angle. He was smelling the same flowers as you, Jack Roses, as they were called, to calm his nerves. As he gazed back up, he spotted you. A smile adorned his face, and he gently made his way to you. "Y/N ?" He gently called out. You looked up, too, and smiled. Yeah, you both knew you had the same conversation.

In a comfortable silence, you went to sit together on the worn park bench, the evening sun casting a warm glow over the tranquil scene. You noticed the furrowed brow and tense posture of your friend. He kept twirling the rose in between his fingers. Quietly, you grabbed it from his hand and attached it to his jacket as an ornament.

With this gentle touch, you offered a wordless gesture of support and solidarity. Aziraphale's gaze flickered towards yours, uncertainty etched in the lines of his face, but as he met your reassuring gaze, a flicker of relief crossed his features. In that moment, you felt the tension in his body begin to melt away, replaced by a sense of reassurance and, you’d call it, camaraderie. After a few minutes, you grinned slightly and joked. “Fraternising ?” 

He scoffed and closed his eyes. “You know what I meant.” 

The problem ism that you didn't. Through theMilanals,s you never understood the nature of their bon,orr your relationship with them. Are they friends,camarades, or, lovers ? It was so mess and confusing. Maybe it was because of your heart, but you were not capable of identifying the truth of it all. And solely about them,m which only made it worse ! But now, you couldn't leave Aziraphale alone, could you? It was your fault if they split up, the least you could do was, well, do the right thing. And you always, always do what you think is best.

*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-* 

1941, London

In the heart of wartime London, amidst the chaos and clamor of air raid sirens and echoing footsteps, you raced through the bustling streets, your heart pounding with urgency. The cobblestones echoed the rhythm of your hurried steps as you darted past dimly lit alleyways and bustling market stalls,your breath coming in short, ragged gasps.

In the heart of wartime London, amidst the chaos and clamour of air raid sirens and echoing footsteps, you raced through the bustling streets, your heart pounding with urgency. The cobblestones echoed the rhythm of your hurried steps as you darted past dimly lit alleyways and bustling market stalls,your breath coming in short, ragged gasps.

You were frantancly looking for Aziraphale. The two of you had been hanging around each other, and you started to notice when he first had contact with the Nazis. And despite your anger, you knew he was putting himself in danger, and you couldn't help but come to his aid. The only problem was that you had no idea where he might be. With every passing moment, the weight of uncertainty pressed down on your shoulders, driving you forward with a relentless determination. Your senses were heightened, attuned to the cacophony of voices and the distant rumble of explosions that reverberated through the city like a symphony of chaos.

Through the haze of smoke and dust, your eyes kept flashing pink, searching frantically for his familiar aura, your aching heart hammering in your chest as she wove through the throngs of people who filled the streets like ants scurrying for cover. Each passing moment felt like an eternity as you raced against time, your mind consumed by the singular purpose of finding Aziraphale and avoiding a catastrophe.

As you turned a corner into a narrow alleyway, your breath caught in your throat as your eyes finally spotted Aziraphale's bound, guiding you to a nearby church. With a surge of hope, you quickened your pace, your heart pounding in anticipation as you drew closer to the familiar energy. In your haze of thoughts, you didn't realise you were standing right in front of the huge wooden door and had kicked it open. The noise the door made mimicked thunder, startling the three men, though your blazing gaze was focused on only one. Azirphale had his eyes wide in complete confusion and was surprised. But only after a few seconds of taking your messy appearance in did worry morph into his face.

"Y/N ? Oh, my dear Lord, what happened to you ?" Aziraphale rushed to you, totally abandoning the two men.

"War happened to me." You growled before shaking your head and strolling towards him. "I can't believe you're dealing with Nazis !"

Meanwhile, a thinner man packed up the books Aziraphale had brought. "I will pass it on to the Fuehrer."

"To Hitler ? The wost human ever ?!" You sighed then, completely dejected. Like every war, it took a real toll on you. Love was hard to come by, and you were famished, going as far as bounding rats together. Aziraphale stumbled on his words, wanting to explain everything to you, but stopped himself.

"These volumes of prophecy will be in Berlin by the end of the week. The Fuehrer will be most grateful." You glared the Nazi's way, your face utterly sullen.

"You have been exceedingly helpful, Mr. Fell." You sent a deadly look in the white head direction while he kept fixing ahead of him, lips drawn in a thin line. That's when the noise of a gun resonated inside the empty space of the church. "Such a pity you and your friend must be eliminated, but take heart, just another in the blitz."

A loud, exasperated sigh left your lips, and you commented. "Again ?"

He pouted apologies in response and then turned back to his little friends. "That's not very sporting." You frowned, intrigued, and crossed your arms in front of your chest.

The chubbier one copied your frown and observed. "You do not appear worried, my friend."

The sound of heels was accompanied by another cocking gun. You turn around, your eyes widening along with the two other men, while Aziraphale fakes nonchalance. Still, he reeked of arrogance.

A woman dressed in black was aiming her weapon at the Nazis. "He's not worried." She revealed. She didn't smell friendly, though, but surprising enough, some humans were more talented at hiding their real intentions than others. That's why you couldn't figure her out. Wary, you softly stepped back, in between her and your friend.

"Who is she?" The man asked, and Aziraphale wasted no time in answering. "She, my double-dealing Nazi acquaintance, is the reason why none of those books are going back to Berlin." He turned to you, bowing his head with pride at his own schemes. "And why your nasty little spy ring will be spending the rest of the war behind bars." The two men nicely raised their hands and dropped their guns.

Suddenly, malice hit your nostrils—a mix of sweetpea and the steathy scent of gunpowder—revealing itself when you least expected it. Oh, come on...

"Let me introduce you to Captain Rose Montgomery of British Military Intelligence." The way he talked truly felt like he was reliving a scene from a mystery book, and you could easily get distracted by how much you enjoyed his almost childish joy if you weren't busy eyeing the woman's swinging aim.

She stepped closer, but you stood your ground next to the angel. "Thank you for the introduction." Her smile was too fake, and her gun kept pointing in the wrong direction, and you didn't hesitate to constantly step in the way.

"Our side knows all about the two of you. She recruited me to work for you." He insisted on the word 'work' while glancing furtively at you. But you knew something was off. "Aziraphale..." You started with a meek voice.

"And now she is going to tell you this building is surrounded by..." Aziraphale continued to ramble but interrupted him firmly.

"Aziraphale." You grabbed onto his arm to ground him as a twisted smile diformed the man's features.

"I'm afraid she works for us, Mr. Fell." You held back and growled as the man spoke up.

"Allow me to introduce Fraulein Greta Kleinschmidt." The smaller man spoke slowly as the woman turned towards both of you, clearly aiming at you now. Aziraphale gasped, but you kept keeping him away from the weapon.

Greta kept stepping away and started to talk tenderly with one of the men. Gee, you couldn't believe that the most love you had felt in weeks was coming from the most terrible people God had ever created. You glanced back at Aziraphale, who was completely lost, and it pained your heart to see him like this. "Now, where were we? Oh yes." The gun was so close, you swore you could just knock it out of her hand. "Killing you."

"You can't kill us. There'll be paperwork." Azirphale almost pouted behind you, but you sensed him moving closer. But before anything could happen, the heavy wooden door slammed open once again.

And whoever had just entered seemed to have quite trouble breathing. Or maybe they were hurt. In the end, it was a mix of both. "Sorry, consecrated ground." It was Crowley, daring to walk into a church. His feet seemed to burn as he tried to spend minimal time on the ground. And you thought about how grateful you were that you had the ability to fly. "Oh ! It's like being at the beach in bare feet." His voice was so high-pitched that it almost made you laugh.

"Crowley ?" You mused, at a loss for words. It's been years since you've seen him—well,  since your argument in St. James—and it would be a lie if you said you hadn't missed him.

"Yep, the one and only, always there to save your butts." He teased while turning around in circles to avoid standing in one place.

"I should have known, of course. These people are working for you." Aziraphale accused you and finally stepped in front of you.

The demon seeked suppot in one of the dark benches as the floor kept burning him. "Nah, they're a bunch of half-witted Nazi spies running London, blackmailing and mudering people. I just didn't want to see you  embarrassed." He tried to nag but couldn't handle the pain. Instead, he waddled around like a duck.

"Indeed, I see you are covering for us both." Azirphaled mocked you in a hushed voice and smiled when he noticed the growing grin on your face, even if you tried to mask it.

"Mr. Anthony J. Crowley. Your fame precedes you." The man started, catching your attention, and you noticed the woman almost drooling over your friend. Well, it was a bit exaggerated, but it seemed like the best vocabulary to use in that moment.

"Anthony ?" Aziraphale wondered, unsure if he heard him right. "You don't like it ?" Crowley retored, and you smelled legit curiousity; the thought of him changing his name to suit the angel caused a cheeky smile.

"No, no, I didn't say that. I'll get used to it." The white head reassured me, though he kept frowning. And it raised a couple questions for you too.

"Wait, so what's your name ? Or do they call you Aziraphale Fell ?" You leaned in, tilting your head to the side. "Kinda redundant, don't you think ?" You jested with a smirk.

"Really not the place, dear." The angel lectured gently but didn't lean away.

"The famous Mr. Crowley ?" She kept eyeing him like a piece of meat, and you really didn't like that, and you unconsciously moved in front of the demon, but it was kind of useless considering he had to keep moving. "That's such a pity that the three of you must die."

Crowley tipped his hat, and you pouted. "What does the 'J' stand for ?" You continued, despite what Aziraphale had just said.

"It's just a 'J', really... Look at that !" You frowned, followed, and looked over where he was gawking. Holy water. You scowled. "A whole fontful of holy water doesn't even have guards !" The red head explained a mixture of pain and excitement.

"Enough babbling. Kill them both." The Nazi finally ordered, already grabbing the bag full of books.

However, Crowley had other plans. "In about a minute, a German bomber will release a bomb that will land right here." He gestured while dancing around. "If you all run away very, very fast, you might not die. You won't enjoy dying; you definitely won't enjoy what comes after." You nodded in agreement, almost mocking.

"You expect us to believe that ? The bombs tonight will fall on the East End." The chubbier man smirked.

"Yes. It would take a last-minute demonic intervention to throw them off course." Crowley confirmed, and you decided to play along.

"I think you're all wasting quite valuable time, dear fellows." You smirked; you couldn't admit it, but you truly hoped they wouldn't run away and would rot in Hell.

"And if, in 30 seconds, a bomb does land here, it would take a real miracle for my friends and I to survive it." He tilted his head to the side, towards Aziraphale.

"A real miracle?" The angel stammered in response, carefully moving closer to the two of you.

"Kill them. They are very irritating."

Crowley raised his hands and pointed at the ceiling, expectingly. Suddenly, a distant rumble echoed through the darkness, growing louder and more ominous with each passing second. The ground beneath your feet trembled as if in anticipation, sending shivers down her spine. The air crackled with electricity as the sound of rushing wind filled your ears, drowning out all other noise save for the rapid beat of your heart.

With a deafening roar, the bomb plummeted towards the earth like a deadly harbinger of destruction, its descent marked by a piercing shriek that cut through the silence like a knife. As the bomb crashed into the church with a thunderous explosion, the earth shook with the force of its impact, sending shockwaves rippling through the air like ripples on a pond. Glass shattered and metal groaned in protest as the building buckled under the sheer force of the blast, the sound of crumbling masonry echoing through the night like the tolling of a funeral bell.

At an agonisingly slow pace, things settled. Your eyes had started to water, and you had instinctively closed your eyes to shelter yourself away from the bright light, the noise, and the chaos. The fear inside you was growing exponentially. It all happened in seconds. Your heartbeat was racing wildly, and your breath was shallow and erratic when you felt a person's touch. You were confused, and the person kept calling your name, but you couldn't find the strength or courage to look up and see who it was.

"Y/N..." The voice sighed, saddened by your state. Ever so gently, you found yourself enveloped in a warm embrace. You inhaled deeply the scent of the coat in which your face was buried and recognised Aziraphale. His arms encircled you with a sense of unwavering comfort and solace. Your body trembled with the aftershocks of shock, and your mind was reeling from the turmoil of emotions that threatened to overwhelm her.

As the angel held you close, you could feel the steady rhythm of his pristine heartbeat echoing against your ear, which was so reassuring. Crowley came closer too, but kept a distance and slowly stroked your. You felt the tension in your muscles begin to ease, the tight knot of fear slowly unravelling under the soothing touch of your friends embrace. In this cocoon, you allowed yourself to take a deep breath and process everything. You weren't used to so much action, preferring to act from afar. With each passing moment, you felt a sense of tranquilly wash over you, like a gentle tide lulling her into a state of calm surrender.

Finally, you regain composure and separate yourself from Aziraphale, while Crowley backs away. "T-Thanks..." You sniffed. The angel simply smiled warmly and kept his hand on your right arm, as if to grant you at least a bit of contact.

He then turned to Crowley. "That was very kind of you." He smiled once more and nodded thankfully.

"Shut up..." He brushed off, putting back his sunglasses, despite the darkness of the night.

"It truly was." You thanked me too. And you saw Crowley lip twitch in an apologetic pout, but you weren't mad at him; you didn't even think you would react like that. "Hey, there'll be no paperwork !" You chuckled.

Aziraphale along with you too, until he realised something. "Oh, the books!" He quickly scanned over the debris but didn't see them. "Oh, I forgot all the books !" You tried to look for the bag too, and apparently so did Crowley. "Oh, they'll all be blown away."

The demon approached us once again, the bag full of books completely untouched. Your eyes widened, and you watched the interaction with a tender gaze.

"A little demonic miracle of my own." Crowley handed it back to Aziraphale, who simply watched, dumbfounded and so, so smitten. You grinned and blushed at the rush of love you felt deep in your heart. "Lift home ?" He offered as if nothing had happened and walked over a black Bentley.

After inhaling deeply and discretely fed on the love, you gasped at the sight of the machine. "You have a car ?!" You chirped and sprinted behind Crowley, while Aziraphale stayed behind. Though the night was far from over, it started incredibly well, 'cause tonight, you'll be able to feast on a whole lot of love!

*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-* 

1967, Soho, London

In the smoky haze of the dimly lit bar, you sat perched on a bar stool, a tumbler of whisky cradled in her hand. The amber liquid glinted in the soft glow of the overhead lights, casting a warm, comforting glow over your features as you took a slow sip, savouring the burn that spread through your chest. You truly enjoyed this new pub, and particularly its name, 'The Dirty Donkey'. Yeah, it always makes your drunken laugh out loud every time you think about it.

For a fleeting moment, you felt a sense of contentment wash over her, the familiar rhythms of the bar providing a sanctuary from the chaos of the outside world. But as you glanced across the room, your gaze fell upon your dear client, Crowley, engaged in a conversation with two humans, causing you to cock a brow. They were moving to a private room, much to your surprise and honest annoyance. Thankfuly, not all your clients were desperatly trying to get themselves in trouble; expect two very specific men.

Groaning, you abandoned your glass on the counter and followed them. And yes, you had no shame in eavesdropping on people. Crowley hunched over the table, his voice low and calm as he exchanged words with the shady couple. Your brows furrowed with concern as you watched the exchange unfold, a sense of unease settling like a stone in the pit of your stomach.

"So, Spike, you're the muscles; you'll be hauling on the ropes." The demon explained it all too professionally.

"And she'll be going down on..." You didn't have time to hear the rest as you felt a presence nearing you. With a gasp, you swiftly put on the blindness, and you reprimand yourself for not thinking of it sooner. A young man walks past you and enters the room. In spite of your desire to follow him, you knew better and focused on spying.

"Who are you ?" A man spoke.

"I understand you need a locksmith." You grew even more confused. Why on Earth would Crowley need help picking up a lock?

You recognised Crowley right away. "I was expecting Mr. Narker."

"Well, Mr. Narker's passed on to his reward. I've taken over the business." The voice was the nearest; you figured it was the youngest. "He was my cellmate. He taught me everything he knew. "You rolled your eyes. Gosh, you hated when you were right.

"My name's Shadwell." You kept focusing; you needed to know what Crowley was planning.

"Please... sit down, Mr. Shadwell."

"Lance Corporal Shadwell. If you don't mind." Unbeknownst to the both of you, Crowley and you shared an unimpressed expression at the man's arrogance.

"So, what's so valuable that they're going to leave it in a church at night?" A more feminine voice inquired.  That was when the truth came crashing down on you. You closed your eyes and sighed. He was still after that god-forsaken holy water. You gritted your teeth in anger, but another emotion overtook your wrath. You truly feared for his safety, knowing that he was treading dangerously close to a path from which there might be no return.

With a sense of determination, you straightened up and marched your way out of the building. You had to talk with Aziraphale now. So, wasting no time, you strolled proudly to the angel's bookshop, which was only a few miles away, and even if it erased any trace of epicness, you rushed in.

Startled, Aziraphale's gaze shot up from his book, and he met you in a near panic. "Oh my Lord, Y/N, don't enter like that." He said it gently while putting down his book.

"Sorry, Az, but it's kind of urgent." You apologised while hurriedly floating his way. "Crowley is in trouble."

He met you half-way, sending you a wave of snowy nights. "What kind of trouble?"

"He's going to rob a church to get holy water!" You cried out, deeply worried, too.

"Oh my God, I cannot believe him!" He exclaimed angrily, still in his polite tone. You sighed and waited for a few minutes, as Aziraphale's footsteps marked the tempo of his passing. It gave you both time to consider the whole situation and what your options were. There was no way you would just stay still without doing anything. But how could you prevent him from putting himself in danger?

That's when you got an idea. It wasn't the best, and you knew you'd have to convince the angel and yourself. Swallowing thickly, you finally took a step towards him and called his name. "Aziraphale ?"

He stopped in his tracks and waited for you expectantly, thinking you had found the solution to all your problems. Your lips formed a thin line before you finally offered him your thoughts. "I know what we agreed on, but... maybe we could trust him."

"What ?" His face had lost all its colour, and he looked at you like you had lost your mind. Which was understandable.

You exhaled and put your hand on his shoulder. "Think about it. What's worse? Has he tried to get the holy water on his own, possibly getting caught or, even worse, splashing himself in the process?" You seeked his eyes to convey how much you believed in your idea.

Aziraphale almost pleaded with you with his eyes. You frowned apologies and smiled softly. You were asking for a lot; he was terrified for his life, and you had just suggested giving him a suicidal pill. However, the angel surprised you once again. He closed his eyes and inhaled deeply before opening his eyes. "Okay."

A few moments later, you and Aziraphale teleported to Crowley's car. You held tightly to the bottle and hid it on the ground in between your legs. Just at the same time, the demon entered his car, sitting lazily. That's when he felt your presence and turned to you, astounded. "What are you doing here?"

"We needed a word with you." Aziraphale started calmly, with a high reserve.

"What ?" He faked ignorance.

Obviously, it didn't fool you, and you rolled your eyes. "Please, we both work in London; it's hard to miss things." Crowley glanced at you from the rear mirror but didn't say anything.

"And apparently you're setting up a... caper." The angel glanced towards you too, searching for backup. "To rob a church."

You nodded and leaned forward, between their seats. "Crowley, it's too dangerous." But your friend didn't let you influence him and kept looking away.

"Holy water won't just kill your body. It will destroy you completely." Aziraphale added, dread lacing his voice.

"You told me what you think 105 years ago." He snarled lowly, exasperation in the back of his throat.

"And nothing changed." You said it serverly, gripping on the leather seat, gaining Crowley's attention as he turned towards you.

"But... we can't have you risking your life." Though you knew you should have backed out the moment you were added to the equation of 'we', you couldn't just leave. "Not even for something dangerous..." Aziraphale sighed.

"So..." You reached down to the car floor, carefully pulled out the thermos, and slowly handed it to Crowley. His hands shook as he reached to grab it, though you still held onto it.

Aziraphale swallowed thickly and eyed the bottle like a hawk. "You can call off the robbery."

Your fingers met with the demon's as you let go of the bottle. "Watch the cap. Don't unscrew it unless it's your last resort." You warned in a hush voice, afraid the cap might just pop right off it.

"It's the real thing?" Despite his glasses, you can see how incredulous his face was. He held the holy water like a bomb, ready to explode.

"The holiest." Aziraphale was incredibly stiff, and he kept leaning away.

"After everything you said..." he whispered, unable to wrap his mind around the idea of the both of you giving in. "Should I say thank you?"

"Better not..." You smiled.

"Well, can I drop you anywhere?"

"No. Thank you.." Crowley pouted; he really wanted to do something for Aziraphale, but he kept being so stubborn. "Oh, don't look so disappointed. Perhaps one day we could... I don't know." He smiled thoughtfully. "Go for a picnic." He then glanced at you, truly hoping you would accept his next offer. "Dine at the Ritz." He shrugged. You looked down; maybe you were the stubborn one after all.

But Crowley insisted. "I'll give you a lift, anywhere you want to go."

"You go too fast for me, Crowley." Really ? Like, really? You sighed and roughly leaned back on the seat. Aziraphale didn't waste any more time and slipped out without saying another word.

But you could see past the facade of bravado the vulnerability that lurked beneath the surface of Crowley's neutral exterior. So, you reached out to him, making a silent plea for him to not give up. You knew that no matter how fiercely Aziraphale resisted, he would always be there by his side, despite how much he wanted to pull away.

For your part, you stayed, feeling a kind of pull urging you to do so. After spending some time in silence, Crowley spoke up. "Need a life, sweetheart?"

You chuckled and sat back up. "Please..." You observed the wheel for a few seconds before chirping, interrupting his movements. "Can I drive?" You used your big, charming smile.

Crowley glanced your way for a few minutes, contemplating the idea before shrugging. "Sure." He opened his door to switch places. You grinned mischievously and grabbed the stirring wheel tightly.

"I'll give it to you fast, boy." You said that and started the engine. Pray for Crowley's poor heart.

*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-* 

2000, Aziraphale's bookshop, London

On your way to meeting Aziraphale and Crowley, you couldn't help but giggle like a little child. You skipped through London, avoiding flying and frightening the sweet baby creature snuggled against my chest. You didn't know such an adorable thing could ever exist, but humans were always full of wonderful surprises! You squeezed your way through the crowd on the busy side walk before finally catching a glimpse of the angel's bookshop.

"Almost there, baby!" You cooed with a big smile and felt her squirm against you. You hurried to cross the street and forcefully pushed the door open with your shoulder. The bell rang loudly, which brought your friends attention to you. Crowley was sitting on the couch, well, more like his body was thrown carelessly on it, whereas Aziraphale was nicely sitting on his big, comfy chair and holding a small device in his hand.

Crowley threw his head back to look at you. "Happy new milenial." He joked with scoff. You smiled brightly and floated towards them, not far away from the ground but enough to not walk down the stairs.

"Hello..." You sang and giggled again until I landed next to the couch. You squeezed the little bundle of joy into your arms. Aziraphale cocked a brow, amused.

"What do you have here, dear?" He smirked, curious. Crowley sat up and looked at you, intrigued as well.

"Oh... nothing..." You chuckled, giggling. Scanning the room for a place to sit, you notice a brand new big divan, which you had never noticed before. "Well, this is new."

Aziraphale got up and took the place next to you. "Indeed, it is." He laughed softly. "It's for you." You looked at him, showing him your disbelief.

"Aw, really?" You asked while approaching the grey van. It had a back, so you didn't have to just lie on it, and it looked really squishy too. You sat down on it and smiled brightly. "Oh, this is great! Thank you.."

The angel dismissed your gratitude with a small gesture. "No need to thank me, dear. "You'd simply like a place to sit on your own."

You smiled gently at him before Crowley spoke up. "What kind of animal is that?" He titled his head to the blanket in your arms as he gave off strong aromas of curiosity and... endermant?

You brushed it off and inhaled deeply. "Gentlemen..." You started trying to set the ambiance. Both of them leaned slightly. "Let me present to you... Eden!" You exclaimed wildly and took off the blanket, reaveling your new baby white dexter mini cow in all her cuteness. She mowed softly as you put her down. She was extremely tiny, with her white coat, black ears, and snoot.

"Oh..." Aziraphale cooed, and you could smell how smitten he was already with her. "She is precious." He affirmed.

Crowley gave off the same scent but still tried to keep up his mocking exterior. "Wow, that's where mini hambergers meat comes from." He teased, his uncovered eyes sparkling with mischief.

You gasped loudly, fakely offended, and went to cover her ears. "Shh, you fool ! She might hear you." Eden mooed and nudged your arm. "I know, baby, he's a meanie." You cooed and kissed her forehead.

"Damn right." He laughed and caressed the mini cow's fur.

"Right, you are absolutely dreadful." Aziraphale rolled his eyes, mocking the gentle behaviour of his friend. Crowley growled but didn't retort anything. "

"Really, you would do that ?" You smiled brightly, earning a chuckle from the angel.

"Of course, you spend so much time here; it would be cruel to leave that poor creature all alone." He tilted his head to the side, inviting you to follow him.

Aziraphale opened a door, right behind all the shelves, in the hidden parts of the bookshop. The room was dusty and crammed with books and antics, from the ground to the ceiling. And despite the library in itself, it was the largest room the bookshop had.

"We'll just put all that into other rooms and upstairs."

You turned to Azirphale, who was making grand movements to explain his whole plan. "It would be its personal stable. He smiled from ear to ear. It truly warmed your heart to see him so involved.

Crowley was leaning against the door frame, holding Eden to his chest. You spotted him and cooed mockingly. "Aren't you a sweetheart?"

He scoffed while petting Eden's head. "Nah, that's your job."

You pursed your lips into a bashful smile before an idea popped into my mind. "Oh, I never thought of what a cow might eat !" You exclaimed, outraged at your ignorance.

"Don't worry, dear, I'm sure I have a book about it somewhere." Aziraphale was reassured, already leaving the room to find it.

You sighed in relief and followed right behind him. It took some time, but you eventually found it and walked back towards the room, leafing through the book. The two of you came to a sudden stop. Everything that was previously in the room was lying on the ground. Aziraphale let out an offended gasp.

"Crowley ?" You called out, midway concerned and amused. "I'm not sure that's how you tidy a room."

The angel was the first to open the door abruptly and stop just as fast. You pressed yourself against him to see what happened to the room. Your eyes widened, your heart quickening, and your eyes flashed pink. "Wow..."

The room, if you still call it that, had enormously enlarged. So much that it actually had an horizon. In the seemingly soft glow of dawn, the meadow unfurled like a tapestry woven with a myriad of colors. Dew-kissed grasses shimmered with a silvery sheen as they swayed gently in the early morning breeze. A symphony of bird songs filled the air, weaving melodies that danced among the fragrant blooms.

Clusters of wildflowers adorned the landscape, painting the meadow a kaleidoscope of hues. Sun-kissed daisies nodded their heads in greeting, and their cheerful faces turned towards the rising sun. Delicate lavender blossoms released their sweet, intoxicating fragrance, mingling with the earthy scent of fresh grass and damp soil.

Water streams meandered lazily through the meadow, their crystal-clear waters glinting in the golden light. They carved sinuous paths among the greenery, creating small, tranquil pools where dragonflies darted and frogs sang their morning serenades. Butterflies flitted from flower to flower, their delicate wings shimmering like stained glass in the sunlight. Bees hummed busily, collecting nectar from the blooms and adding their gentle buzz to the symphony of nature's orchestra.

The ceiling—no, the sky—wasn't entirely blue, but it reminded you of a gentle summer morning. Just the softest warmth. We slowly walked into the landscape, afraid to disrupt it. The thick grass felt mellow under your feet, and you couldn't resist kicking off your shoes to feel it yourself. Aziraphale chuckles, joining the sweet sounds of birds and the running water.

"This is amazing !" You laughed in disbelief and utter joy, twirling around, taking in everything this beautiful place had to offer. The ground was now the last thing on your mind, and you took off in the air, floating around like a cherub.

"I can't believe Crowley did all this in such a short amount of time." Aziraphale backed up, caressing the petals of a Jack Rose.

You chuckled and floated in a circle around him. "Where do you think he is ?" Your eyes scanned the area, and you spotted him beyond a field of yarrows, answering your own question. "There ! C'mon !" You landed abruptly next to Aziraphale and took his arm, hurrying him to climb up the small hill.

Crowley was sitting underneath a tree that bore the colours of a pink cherry tree, but the lazy branches resembled those of a weeping willow. Eden quiet moos caused you to smile and rush the final feet, seperating you from the two of them. The demon smiled almost smugly at your arrival, and you responded with a bright grin.

"This incredible..." You panted a bit and roughly let yourself fall on your back, on the grass. Aziraphale chuckled and miracled a blanket under the four of you. A comfortable hum came out instinctively, and you completely laid on the ground. With a happy coo, Eden waddled her way and rested her head on your stomach. Aziraphale sat down as well, crossed his legs, and congratulated Crowley on his work.

"Now, this is a wonderful place to have a picnic." Aziraphale sighed and rested back on his arms. You chuckled and laid down on the blanket. Eden's weight left a comfortable pressure on your chest. Staring at the sunny sky through the pink brenches of the tree, the scent of heliotrope embraces your entire being.

You never knew what heliotrope was meant to represent, despite how many times you asked Mihael about its meaning. All she ever gave you as an answer was a cheeky smile and a shrug. So, you didn't ask further. And right now, all you wanted to do was bask in the scent and never leave this meadow.

Or its inhabitants. For anything in the world.

*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-* 

There... Now, if you'll excuse me, I'm off to sleep U,w,U

Hope you liked it, I put extra details for you to enjoy ! Now let's hope Y/N | Balael will be and about in the next chapter, 'cause they're running out of time ;)

And if they're any errors like a lot 'I's instead of 'You's please let me know ^^

Bye bye !

Parts : First - Previous - Next

Masterlist : Here

Taglist : @legendary-maddie @kpop-athena @drugs-for-memes @emo-queer-boi @cunning-girl @mochikofi @brain-has-left @cup-of-tee007  @anonymoussherlockandmarvelgeek  @somekale08 @liyacreate @msyolocat-blog  @scoliobean  @notahappystan  @nebulagoddess @mxxny-lupin  @bluebear19  @yvonneeeee   @kniselle  @dmitrytherat @lookingforlifeoutthere @neenieweenie @lunalixya @socksandaslide @planetaryperson @kaillou66 @elleofdragons @rust-in-polar1s @who-goopy-goober @shadowluna25 @m1r-rored @sebs-oxygen @lieutenantlashfaz @a-winged-dreamer @keira-kaz2y5 @redsakura101 @captain-winter-wolf-aehs @cantdothis-nomore @yeeteth-the-raven

[ellabsweet]

[*ੈ✩] 𝐃𝐄𝐀𝐑 𝐃𝐈𝐀𝐑𝐘 • 𝐄.𝐖

synopsis: ellie writes in her journal religiously, a foolish attempt at reconciling with her feelings and understanding what it is that happens to her particularly when she is around you

pairing: ellie williams x reader

warning: written in ellie’s pov as the entire story is told through her journal entries, if this is well received it might be a multiple part series, loads of angst and borderline emotional cheating

I saw her again this week. Or better yet, she saw me, and I don’t think I have ever dropped someone’s hand so fast as when her eyes glanced down towards mine and Cat’s intertwined, in the end that only served a purpose to make them both upset. She pretended not to have noticed me after that and deep down I couldn’t blame her for it, though it’s been nearly a month since our last conversation a part of us both know that a friendship shouldn’t experience something that feels like a break up.

Guilt is the second worst feeling I’ve ever experienced and still it comes pretty damn close to grief. Sometimes kissing Cat I pretend that it’s her instead, eyes shut from all reality it’s almost like I can shift her taste into whatever I imagine hers to be instead and in the moment it feels too good for the guilt to settle in, it feels like home. Which is a shame, in the end, because this is about me not deserving that comfort. I remember Cat had to stop me, push me off her to catch her breath with a laugh and she looked me starry eyed to say she’s never felt me so into her before. The strawberry in my lips turned to poison so fast. She didn’t know. Didn’t even understand why my face fell at the comment, felt the need to tell me it was just a joke but we both knew it wasn’t.

Cat is easy. Easy in a way that borders boring which means it’s safe. Life is hard enough as it is for me to keep having these impulses towards devastating gut wrenching love, the kind of love inevitable with her. I told her once when we still liked to pretend we were friends that she was something of a tornado, like this force of nature so inevitable to everything else that sweeps up everything off the ground, and she was so offended. Like I’d said she was destructive. But she is. I haven’t given her the opportunity to abandon me and still it has broken my heart to glance at her across a room and not run straight to her arms, not be the one making her laugh. It’s been too long since I’ve heard the laugh I would bottle and save to get drunk on hard days and now can’t even treasure for good ones.

To be loved by her, though I guess it may be pretentious of me to assume she loved me, was finally coming up for air, was watching a meteor shower, is probably the closest I’ve ever gotten to the moon and understanding what it is to moon over someone, she personified my astronaut dreams and I am a stupid asshole who keeps dropping things on Earth because they’ve got new found gravity. I miss floating and I hate all the things I’ve crashed on the ground, sometimes I’m not sure who’s shattering the most without her. (I do. It’s me. I’m taking this metaphor too far.) But she would hate me if she knew. I thought I had lived long enough as myself so I could find her but not having died for the cure only means I never get to have her, not fully, not if she knew. And I wanted her to know me. More than I wanted her to just love me, which is terrifying. That’s why we can’t be.

[impossiblescissorspeachpaper]

Love confession prompts:

#8 Tears drench your cheeks as you confess. The last thing you hear before dying is them screaming your name

Mor and Andromache (her mortal lover ) 👉🏻👈🏻

If anyone can, it's you.💖

I’m sorry this took me so long to write this but I actually really enjoyed doing so! Even though this was probably the first thing I’ve ever written that brought me close to tears.

So I guess sorry for the lateness as well as the pain this may inflict… enjoy?

Love Confession prompts list

Love Confession master list

Morrigan always knew she’d go down like this. Drenched in her own blood as well as that of their enemy’s, swinging wildly to protect those she loved most.

Cassian had fallen. Like a mighty hero, he had taken down no less than four dozen warriors with him in a fantastic display of unrivaled valor and brute strength. From that final act alone, she knew his name would become legend, spoken in revered tones for eternity. Much like the warriors of Illyria he idolized before him.

Azriel had followed not too far behind him. Bellowing in anguish as his brother fell, he had hurled himself sacrificially into the fray, his shadows spearing from him like vipers just as the cobalt blast from his siphons had decimated the earth. She’d never heard such an tortured cry. The cry of a man losing the closest thing he had had to a brother, a kindred soul, someone who knew his every scar and sharp edge and could match them with his own. His shadows had dispersed in an explosion of dark mist, like trapped demons finally released to the heavens as his beautiful body lay broken in the crater he had blasted.

Her heart shattered irreparably as those crimson and cobalt siphons spluttered and dimmed for the final time.

Her cousin was battling across the muddied plain, almost unrecognisable as his beast form had morphed his usually handsome features into wicked looking black scales and sharp talons tipped his fingers. His deep well of power was flagging, his misting power now only reaching a small radius around him and his mate. Feyre fought at his back gallantly, standing shoulder to shoulder with her husband. Stoically defending all they stood for on the front lines, all they had built, in their beloved Court of Dreams.

Another firebird swooped on her left, Morrigan ducking just in time to avoid being scorched by the bespelled woman. They were his soldiers now, after all. The cursed ladies of Kochei’s lake. Vassa unwittingly among them.

Mor picked herself up off the ground, her hands sinking into the bloodied mud beneath her as she stumbled to her feet, tired and aching from hours of battle. But she would not surrender yet. She would not allow herself to die for nothing. Would not let her family’s sacrifice be in vain.

For at the end, everyone always thought of their family. Their loved ones. But for Morrigan it was not the memories of the abhorrent ilk in the Court of Nightmares of which she had been born into that eddied in her mind. No. It was the family she had found. The family she had chosen for herself after years of having no choice at all. It was of Rhys and Amren. Of Cassian and Azriel. Feyre and Elain and Nesta. And of course… Andromache.

Her sweet, beloved Andromache.

Andromache, whom she had only been granted a cruel, tauntingly brief amount of time to love. But she had never felt anything more intense. Nothing had ever been more real. Or deep.

No matter how far and wide she searched in the centuries that followed her lover’s death, nothing ever came close to that soul-deep feeling of belonging. She had loved Andromache for many years after the human queen had passed from the mortal world. Perhaps she would be reunited with her in the afterlife. Soon. So very soon.

A guttural cry croaked from her dry throat as she swung her arm again and again and again, her longsword slamming into shields and armoured bodies alike. Flaying and slicing and ripping. Soldiers of rotted flesh and burning feathers fought back. The fray on the battlefield truly chaotic now as bodies piled up where she stood, engulfing her senses. If she could help only Feyre and Rhys survive, then her sacrifice would be worth it.

Daring a glace toward her High Lord and Lady, Mor screamed. One single, desperate shout of warning across the battlefield. Rhys’ violet eyes flashed to hers, reading every emotion on her face as he struck behind him, just in time to skewer the foolishly brazen warrior attempting to attack Feyre. Rhys’ dark power sent a bolt through the soldier’s chest, halting his advances immediately as his body was reduced to nothing but a plume of smoke and ashes before he’d had the chance to tumble to the ground.

Rhys shot her a tired grimace from across the battlefield just before his eyes widened in horror… Just as Mor felt a blade pierce her side. Her ribs cracking open as they were left unchecked in her distraction.

A novice mistake, and a fatal one. She crumpled wordlessly to the ground, Rhys’ resounding scream ringing across the gore filled plains. An echo to the cries that had ripped from his chest as his brothers had fallen hours before.

Ruby red blood bubbled from her lips as her vision went hazy, hot tears born of something akin to relief streaming down her grimy cheeks. It wasn’t as painful as she thought it would be, dying. It was cold, but a sweet voice was calling her.

Morrigan. Morrigan. Morrigan.

She closed her eyes as she welcomed her passage into that land of milk and honey. Sent a final prayer to the Mother, beseeching her remaining family’s protection as she followed her queen to their final resting place. Took her last breath as she heard her lover calling her name, as sweet and luring as the siren’s song, guiding her to eternal paradise.

*******

tagging: @offtorivendell @fawnandshadows @the-laughing-bubble @swankii-art-teacher @pagemasters @sakurakittypeach @tswaney17 @thefangirlofhp @wingedblooms @alwayssara @ultadverb

[onlyhereforsin]

Dreams of Wisteria

A/N: Hello everyone! It’s Ronnie, this is my first time posting on Tumblr and I’m a little nervous lol. But here it is! My original story. So this is only chapter one, and I do have others! Let me know what you guys think of it in the comments. Love y’all!

The wisteria flower that she kept on her desk, the one that usually made her bad days slightly better, or gave her hope after a rough night, was wilting. Jewel had tried to save it, to keep its purple color she loved so much. She felt like she owed it to him. Especially after he....

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Jewel McDaniel grew up in a relatively small town affectionately referred to as 'The Forest' by the locals. She adored where she lived. Nestled in between trees, rivers and hunting grounds was her house. A long, dirt road covered in rocks and gravel. It was easy to mistake it as a simple forest path. Her house was nothing extravagant. An elevated double wide trailer that was on shared property. Screened in porch, three bedrooms, it was simple. Any child living there, especially with no siblings, would've been happy.

Jewel, however, had no such luxury. Despite how peaceful and calming her house seemed on the outside, Jewel spent most of her childhood upset or stressed. From a young age, she was expected to be nothing short of perfect. Her academics, her appearances, her manners. Due to her own parents narcissistic personalities, she was expected to be the model child.

She felt so lost. Like this is how things were going to be for the rest of her life. That was until she met her.

Peggy Jen Alesme was like a breath of fresh air to Jewel. Never had she met met a girl so joyous and full of light. So happy and content with everything around her. She constantly had a glimmer in her eyes, a light Jewel longed to cherish. To nurture.

They met in Eighth Grade. Two weeks into the school year. It was sunny outside. The not yet fall air was warm and pleasant. The sky was a dazzling blue that not even a cloud dared mar.

It was lunchtime when Jewel met Peggy. She was sitting alone by a fence near the carline, looking over notes for an upcoming history test. After a while, she heard a buttery soft voice call out to her "Excuse me..?"

When Jewel looked up she was sure she saw an Angel. Peggy had long, bone straight brown hair down to her kid back. Side swept bangs that hung in her face, and almond shaped eyes that were framed by dark lashes. And gods above, the color.

She had the most beautiful green eyes Jewel had ever seen. The kind of green you could only find on a hike through the forest, at high noon, when the sun is at its fullest in the sky and shines just right on the leaves of a fern tree.

Her smile matched her oh so well. Lopsided and yet or reached those sweet green eyes and crinkled them around the edges. Her skin was a warm tan, like she was kissed by the sun itself. She was ethereal. "Um..it's my first day and I've asked liked five other people. Do you know how to find Mr. Browns class? I have him after lunch and I have no idea where to go." She said to her. 

Jewel didn't know how to respond at first. Her poor little heart felt like it was going to leap out of her chest like an excited rabbit. Somehow, she managed to steel her nerves after a moment and told her what building and what floor to go to.

Peggy smiled that earth shattering smile and sat next to her, cussing Jewel to shift and make more room for her unconsciously. "So! My name is Peggy! What's yours?"

And that was it. After that lunch, Peggy became Jewel's second shadow. Lingering behind her or walking beside her prattling on about whatever came to mind. Not that Jewel minded of course, she actually loved listening to her ramble. It helped to distract her from the stress her parents forced on her. Besides, her and Peggy enjoyed somewhat macabre fantasy stories with nary a happy ending.

Sometime towards the middle of Eighth grade, Jewel started having dreams. Vivid, slightly jarring dreams. Dreams of wonder. Dreams of a world called Wisteria.

The dreams were colorful yet fast paced. Almost flashes in the beginning. A cat man, a fairy that was so sweet to her, and a voice that could be heard, but with a face that was never seen. Almost beckoning her further into the world. The voice was so nice to hear. Smooth with a subtle rasp to it. The voice knew her name too. "Jewel" it would call "You can stay here with us." But strangely, she would always wake up before she could respond.

After a good long while of the dreams reoccurring, Jewel started writing them down in a journal, making sure to add every detail and event that happened as well as little things she would add to the world to make it more interesting. Delighted every time she returned to see her little changes appear. This place became her own little escape from reality, it made her insanely happy.

One day, she approached Peggy and told her everything. What the voices sounded like, what the cat man was like and how the world looked.

Peggy was immediately hooked and practically begged Jewel to read the latest entry in her little dream journal every morning. Giving the girl little ideas to add to the dreamscape. Their favorite being what they called "Sweet Haven"

An entire forest made of candy and sweets. The tree bark made of chocolate, the rocks gumdrops, the leaves and grass rolled sugar that glimmered in the sun like gems. And the most important part. The clouds made of pink cotton candy. A concept that made Jewel raise a brow in questioning. Due to, in her words, it would be impractical because "Cotton candy dissolves in water." To which Peggy quickly responded with "Short rain showers. The clouds just dissolve." So, begrudgingly, Jewel added the stupid Cotton Candy Clouds.

This little dream journal single-handedly brought them closer together. Throughout high-school they were pretty much never seen without the other side. Up until senior year. Jewel had the dreams every single night, always the same song and dance. The fairy, the cat man- who she found out was named 'Trunks'- and that voice. So alluring and dark. It reminded her of sirens. She started feeling wary of it

Also during their last year, Peggy started having the dreams as well and started her own journal, coming to school she would swap stories of the land and what she did there with Jewel.

That brings things up to the end of Senior year. Exam week was in two days, and studying was crucial for the girls.

Jewel made her way to Peggy's blue pickup truck with a yawn. "Lord help me." Peggy commented as she slipped into the drivers seat "Why is Mr. Clark's study guide so damn long?"  She huffed out, clicking her seatbelt. Jewel chuckled and doing the same "Dunno." She shrugged "But I'm doing pretty good in his class, I'll help you out."

Peggy smiled and pulled out of the school. To lighten the mood and turn it from studying, Jewel decided to connect her phone to the aux cord and start scrolling through her playlist, smiling she found the song she was looking for. Pressing play she turned it up, looking at the girl as the song started.

"Two...birds. On a wire"

Peggy smiled at the song they dubbed their theme song started playing, the two of them started singing along. Jewel rolled the window down and looked at her.

She felt a soft smile cross her lips as she watched Peggy in this moment. She looked so beautiful, the wind swept her hair this way and that, even when the car stopped she felt an invisible microphone with Jewel as they belted the song together. The moment was perfect.

Until Jewel saw it. The truck pulled off again, and Jewel was still looking at Peggy. But she also saw the car. The car that ran a red light. The car barreling towards them, full speed at the drivers side of the car.

Just the. The world was in slow motion. She saw the car slam into them, saw the door get slammed inwards, saw the jagged piece of metal slice into her best friend. The girl she was madly in love with. Then she heard it.

The scream of pure agony from Peggy. That brought her back, she screamed herself as they were thrown like a crushed soda can. The truck fell on its side and slid across the pavement, causing Jewel to slam her head into her door.

The blood. Dear gods it was everywhere, due to the shock and the force, Peggy hung limp as she dangled in the seat, splattering her blood everywhere.

Jewel felt her consciousness slip in and out. The last thing she heard was that stupid song playing.

"Two...birds...of a feather. Swear that they're always...gonna stay together..."

[bcbdrums]

Grasping for the Wind - pt. 2

Prologue | Previous chapter Read on: FFn AO3

A Soul Eater fanfic. Suspense and angst abound!

---------------------

A/N: I should mention... This story jumps back and forth between some past and present events. I don't indicate when this happens with any kind of note. It should be easy to infer through the narrative what's going on. There will be a few times when the event is very past, which will be in all italics, but otherwise it's to be assumed that we're going between what's happening in the present, and...what caused the present situation. If it is too confusing let me know! Hope the story is enjoyable so far.

Part 2

The sun had yet to climb over the horizon when they reached the Forsaken Plains, but the promise of a new day hung in the atmosphere. It was a feeling Stein had never quite understood.

The plains were a little farther outside of Death City than he cared to travel alone, even for training, but at least it wasn't so barren as most of the desert landscape. In contrast to the region's name, there were trees and shrubs of varieties that thrived in the arid climate scattered in every direction, but especially near the butte that rose up to the north. Beyond that to the east was the slough that sat dry for most months of the year and gave the region its name, excepting when a monsoon chanced to pass over.

For those few weeks after the rain the land was green and colorful with flowers blooming out of seemingly every crevice and rock face as if to remind any who saw it that living things could still thrive beyond the city. But it was merely a glimpse, as most of the time the ground was dry and cracked and the slough grass and reeds rose up to nearly two meters in some places, thick and impassible for miles in every direction. None dared cross the plains, and that was how they had earned their name.

None but one, however.

"Every now and then I'll hear rumors about him," Spirit said, walking at Stein's side. "That he'll come and terrorize the homes and businesses on the outskirts of the city."

Stein took a drag from his cigarette and considered.

"Such a waste."

"Huh?"

Stein reached up and twisted the screw in his head once. It turned easily in the smooth channel he had made for the device. But that couldn't stop the sound—the unnatural high-pitched shearing sound of metal against metal, nor the vibrations that shook his skull in a mixture of bizarre pleasure and earth-shattering pain that made him feel as if he wanted to crawl out of his skin.

Every one of his nerve endings was electrified from head to toe in a brief moment, the conflicting sensations themselves a battle between madness and sanity. And as quickly as they had begun, they waned, his hand returning to his side where it remained still. Neither tremor from his fingers nor twitch of a muscle in his face ever betrayed the effects of his self-mutilation to anyone.

He grinned.

"I wonder if he ever finished the research he was working on when he left."

"Stein, he killed his meister. In front of other students. How can you think of research!?"

"I am a scientist."

"Sheesh. You haven't changed," Spirit said with a scoff.

A muscle in Stein's cheek did twitch then. Ever since their fight against the Demon Sword, he'd had vague thoughts of reconciling with his former weapon partner.

He forced those thoughts aside to focus on the task at hand.

"In the rumors you've heard, what are the reasons for his attacks?"

---------------------

"Wait," Naigus said, "he did what!?"

Stein finished cleaning the last of the wounds in Spirit's chest. It was with a sweeping sense of illness and concern he realized that after each wound was properly stitched, Spirit would have to be carefully turned over to repeat the entire process for the matching wounds in his back. And those would be worse for having been lain upon for hours. And then of course...there was his head.

It was going to be a very long day.

"I never heard that part of it," Naigus continued, staring at him with wide eyes.

Stein prepared the first suture as he recalled the incident.

"Griffin's research was into the light spectrum, with the goal of turning himself invisible. He succeeded, but only in part. When he attacked, the part of him making contact with an enemy became visible again."

"Then what happened with his meister? An accident?"

Stein placed the needle next to the first of Spirit's wounds almost automatically, but then hesitated. As if their—his—failure in the battle wasn't enough to sever any remaining ties between them, this surely would. But, with nothing else left to lose, the very least he owed to Spirit was to save his life.

He took no pleasure in it when the needle pierced the skin.

"Stein?"

"No," he replied to Naigus's prior question. "What Griffin had kept secret from all of us, even from me, was that he was also using magic in his experiments. Things...took a frightening turn."

"You're, uh...very good at that."

Stein realized that during their brief moments of conversation he had already finished stitching the smallest wound, in less than a minute, with hardly a thought to the task. He tied off the threads and began on the next.

"Lord Death had told him to stop his experiments even before things had gotten out of hand. It was all too risky. But being denied the research only pushed him further into..."

"Into...?"

-----------------

"Lord Death," Stein began. "I wish to make an appeal on Griffin's behalf."

"Where is that troublesome... Oh! There you are! I'm so sorry Sir, I tried to talk him out of this, but he's just too pig-headed to—"

"Now now, Spirit. I'll hear your meister out. Go ahead, Stein."

"It's not fair to stop Griffin's research. If he's successful, his discoveries could help weapons and meisters around the world."

"No thanks," Spirit interrupted with a scoff. "We do just fine without questionable magic tricks."

Stein ignored his partner and kept his eyes on Lord Death. "But if he were to agree to stop using magic. His research was already profound without it. It would be morally wrong to stop him."

Lord Death cocked his head to the side. "Morally wrong?"

"What's wrong is those pranks he's been pulling," Spirit said. "Even I could understand when he hid in the girls' showers, but the other stuff he's been doing isn't funny."

"What have you to say to that, Stein?"

Stein bowed his head as he thought. The 'pranks' were hardly that anymore, having escalated at a shocking pace. Eavesdropping on private conversations between students and teachers alike had turned into breaking and entering. Stealing. Leaving a gas stove on in the dorm of the boy who had called him a freak. Standing in a doorway in partial-weapon form, injuring the unsuspecting professor who walked into him.

"I know he's your friend," Spirit said, his voice softer. "I know it's been fun for you to have someone around who's as crazed about experimenting with things as you are. For awhile there I even thought you were going to dump me and have him be your weapon partner instead."

Stein's head snapped up.

"But he's crossed too many lines. He knows what he's doing is wrong, and he keeps pushing it. I mean, come on."

Spirit turned from the mirror to face him directly.

"You used to be like him. I used to be afraid..."

Stein's cheek twitched.

"But you know it's wrong. You would never hurt anyone on purpose again, would you?"

------------------

Stein tied off another suture and trimmed it, the scissors snapping closed for the force he used. His eyes fell to a very faint old scar just below Spirit's ribcage on his right side. It was neat, tidy, and hadn't been caused by any weapon. He sighed.

"Into madness."

'Was it, though?'

He began stitching another wound. "Though now I wonder if there hadn't always been a thread of evil running through him."

"Why didn't I hear about this?"

"Afterward, Lord Death forbade the three students who had witnessed him killing his meister from speaking of it. Griffin was going to be imprisoned for the murder, but he ran away. Ironically, it was only then once it was too late to change anything that he had finally succeeded."

"He killed his meister while invisible?"

"Yes."

The next wound was deeper, and consequently more difficult to secure. Stein gently pressed the flesh together and made each stitch one at a time, tying them off tightly to be sure the skin met together smoothly. Unfortunately this wound, like most of them, would definitely leave a very noticeable scar.

"You were one of the students who saw it happen," Naigus said with a soft gasp.

Stein glanced up at her and gave a brief nod.

[multistoty]

[ Au: Klaus betrothed Hope to Julian to put their courts together, but Hope is falling in love with the princess instead. I was thinking maybe Julian is adoped by Sage or from his demon mother who dated the angel. Maybe sort of our court au. I am getting new hope icons]

@bloodofire​

Being the loan heir and living and breathing version of the court owned by the vampire mafia, she spent her life folded between the pages of books.In the absence of human relationships Hope formed bonds with paper characters. The auburn haired girl lived love and loss through stories threaded in history;she experienced adolescence by association. Her world is one interwoven web of words, stringing limb to limb, bone to sinew, thoughts and images all together. sheis a being comprised of letters, a character created by sentences, a figment of imagination formed through fiction. Words are such unpredictable creatures. No gun, no sword, no army or king will ever be more powerful than a sentence. Swords may cut and kill, but words will stab and stay, burying themselves in our bones to become corpses we carry into the future, all the time digging and failing to rip their skeletons from our flesh.All the tribrid ever wanted was to reach out and touch another human being not just with her hands but with her heart. She had been screaming for years and no one has ever heard her before the princess.  And they are quotation marks, inverted and upside down, clinging to one another at the end of this life sentence. Trapped by lives they did not choose. Part of her coveted a second born. All the privelege of a royal without holding up to the knowledge and needed perfection of leading your people into something better. Walking like footprints on the sand or ripples in the river. This woman in front of her was too good looking to be anything but fictional. She looked beautiful swathed in the soft tulle of a seelie dress. Draped in the colors of fire and water in a way that should be painted or etched on vases. The mikealson girl always wondered about raindrops. She wondered about how they're always falling down, tripping over their own feet, breaking their legs and forgetting their parachutes as they tumble right out of the sky toward an uncertain end. It's like someone is emptying their pockets over the earth and doesn't seem to care where the contents fall, doesn't seem to care that the raindrops burst when they hit the ground, that they shatter when they fall to the floor, that people curse the days the drops dare to tap on their doors. At some point any royal had been that raindrop. And she;s fallen.So hard. She’d hit the ground. Gone right through it. Never in her life had she felt this. Nothing like this. She had felt shame and cowardice, weakness and strength. She’d known terror and indifference, self-hate and general disgust.seen things that cannot be unseen.And yet she had known nothing like this terrible, horrible, paralyzing feeling. she feel crippled. Desperate and out of control. And it keeps getting worse. Every day she felt sick. Empty and somehow aching.Love is a heartless bastard. For it was the most beautiful pain and the sunshine of life to be in her orbit. God, she was pulling a freaking Anakin Skywalker. Besides, Julian was to be her spouse instead of the most perfect intelligent woman she had seen. The one who had somehow got mcdonalds sat out by her bed in the morning instead of homophobic chicken and a novel similar to the one they had discussed. Thank god, the princess hadn’t seen the ammount of times she attempted to stamp her into that paper. The drawing equivilant to hearts with initials. Hope likde the way she felt about herself when she was with her. Jessalyn seemed to think that the other redhead was  strong and smart and capable and she actually values her brother’s betrothed’s opinion. Not because she was the princess of the vampire court and the onl mikealson heir or the fabric of family they were about to be put in. Under her bright gaze, you felt as if you were the most important thing to ever exist. Fairytales hadn’t seemed real until her cupids bow lifted. A warrior goddess with the light of her kind charity glowing around her ivory skin. She makes me feel like her equal--like she can accomplish just as much as she can, and more. And if she did something incredible, she's not even surprised. She expects it. She doesn't treat her like  some fragile little girl who needs to be protected all the time or unworthy of the opinions and place in society with which she had. Well, the court she used to live in. Supernatural people were leaps above others though it would seem the man still had the right away of living. It was all so new. In fact, she had blushed most of the first week noting that she was the only one craddled by red gowns and lips.“The truth is a painful reminder of why I prefer to live among the lies. My mother walked through a trail of the broken pieces of her heart to meet Jackson. You know what you are doing to me and I already am eclisping this space between worlds. Between what people deem decent and scandalous. This is not my home. You have become my home after the first moment I saw you.”

[ollie-jpg]

i swear my sister has a fucking sixth sense she KNOWS every time this happens to me and i know she knows cuz of the way she talks to me

[witch-hazels-musings]

nightmares

Includes: Diluc, Kaeya | Anthology 

Warnings -> STRONG emotional images (violence, panic, mentions of blood (a lot of blood), implied and specific character death) -> leads to comfort

Synopsis: Nightmares plague the characters sleep and they wake up startled - the reader comforts them

Diluc

The ground beneath his feet felt like putty, with each step he sunk in further, pulled his boots up harder to stay on the surface and not be dragged below it. The rain wouldn’t stop either, which made everything so much worse. What was more unsettling than feeling the pressure of the ground as it clung to his feet was the complete lack of sound. The rain cascaded across the landscape but provided no notice of its presence in any sense other than sight.

In the distance, appeared a carriage, and with labored steps, he headed toward it. When he arrived at its side, he noticed the disheveled state of it. The broken windows above the door, the tattered curtains that hung on the inside now lay plastered against the edge due to the rain. The wheels were shattered and brought the whole thing into the ground, its corners seeping into the mud at the same slow rate of his feet. This all seemed so familiar, and yet, when he tried to understand it, nothing came. He extended his hand to the carriage but before his fingers reached he heard a wild scream from the other side, a shriek, a roar, and the ground beneath him shook.

He took off in the direction of the sound, trees rushing by him, branches slapping against his face, his arms, and when he saw the light grow at the edge of the forest, he burst through without any fear. As he shielded his eyes from the flash of light, he heard a crash, a rumble, and then nothing.

When he dropped his hand back to his side he found himself back at the spot he just left, instead, this time, there was a person standing near the carriage. Their back to him, and bright red hair drenched by the rain.

He called out to them but they didn’t answer. He walked forward, his unsteady movements a result of the slippery mud under his boots. There was a growing hesitancy building in his chest, a loud shouting of his nerves as he got closer and, with an extended hand, he touched the person's shoulder only to wish he hadn’t. A huge gust of darkness spilled from their body, pushing Diluc back, and just as he lifted his head, balanced his weight with outstretched arms another wave of blackness hit him. Between the darkness, a flash of metal flew by his face, he dodged out of the way making his claymore materialize in his hands as he rolled through the sticky mud underneath him. It was a dangerous maneuver, but necessary.

The figure's face was clouded in thick, black smoke and for some time the two of them fought against each other. Diluc’s arms moved on their own, his feet took him to spaces that assisted him in avoiding the strikes from his foe. There was something so familiar about this fight, a familiarity that grew the longer their blades came into contact with one another, the further he pushed them back toward the carriage. It was as if there was a veil between him and this memory he couldn’t quite tear through, like a thin sheet that separated him and the truth. He shoved the enemy back against the carriage and just as his claymore came crashing down across their chest, so too did the veil, which he learned wasn’t a hindrance to his memory, but a blessing.

The body collided into the broken carriage, its back slipping down the side and leaving a trail of red in its wake. Their hands turned a sickly brown as they rested in the mud, painful breaths piercing through the shroud of black which slowly began to lift. Diluc’s shoulder heaved as he looked down at them, and as soon as the blackness faded everything became painfully clear.

“My boy …” His father's voice wheezed, blood spilling from his mouth as he coughed. Diluc couldn’t move, his hands could no longer hold onto the heavy weapon, his legs shook and gave way to the earth below him and as soon as his knees hit, the sound of rain filled his ears.

His eyes drifted over the gaping wound across his father's chest and without hesitation, Diluc moved to stop the bleeding. It seemed there was far too much, a never-ending river of blood which mixed with the dirty earth below and creating some sort of strange sludge that pulled his father deeper and deeper down into.

No matter how hard Diluc dug at the ground, no matter how much he pulled and yanked at his father's arms or tried to stop the bleeding, he gained no progress and painfully, slowly he lost more. The pouring thunder of rain stopped, his father's gaping mouth offered no sound and Diluc looked up at the sky in confusion. A hand gripped his wrist and when he looked back, he saw your face.

He woke up shouting, his heart beating so hard in his chest he wasn’t sure how the muscle was capable of punishing a person's ribs like that. He could feel his hands, his body shaking and he knew, even in the darkness there was so much blood spilling from his fingers.

The room filled with a soft light but he couldn’t look anywhere but at his hands. The same hands that were covered in blood, covered in mud, and unable to grab onto the person in his dreams … who was it? He couldn’t differentiate between you or his father, but it didn’t matter… he wasn’t strong enough to hold onto either of you. Just like that horrible day, he would watch these hands snuff out your light, he’d be the only one at fault for it all.

The thoughts filled his head and drowned out everything else. The screaming, the gasping, the inevitable suffering he would let befall because he just wasn’t strong enough. His eyes were transfixed, unable to move from the hands that shook violently in their view. That’s when he saw yours, the back of them sliding over his palms, fingers wrapping around his wrists. He pulled his hands back so hard his elbows collided with the wooden bed frame and nearly splintered the mahogany.

---

“Diluc …” He looked up, the way his brow furrowed, the burning of his eyes as they stared at you. It was the most painful thing you’d ever see, it broke your heart and as desperately as you wanted to reach back out to him, you knew it wouldn’t help. “Can you hear me?” You asked, daring not to move from the spot next to him.

When you were awoken by his scream you feared for the worse, in a flash you turned on the light, and when you found him shaking, unresponsive to your calls you slipped from the bed and made your way to his side. That’s where you found yourself now, sitting at the edge of the bed, doing your best to be reassuring even as the empathy you felt for him stung your eyes and felt heavy in your chest.

“It was a dream … it was only a dream.” You attempted to comfort him, your head tilting to match his eye line and you watched the shaking of his body move to his head as he silently communicated that it wasn’t. There was no way for you to know what he had seen in his dreams, it was unlikely he would tell you. Looking weak wasn’t something he necessarily liked, even if you told him he was far from that. “You’re breathing so hard; I’ll … uh … go make you something soothing to drink.”

You stood up and once you turned toward the door, your body was pulled backward. Your feet lifted off of the ground, a harsh hand wrapped around your wrist, and as soon as your back hit the bed arms entrapped you. Shifting against the sheets, you tried to look at Diluc but could only see the top of his head, the red hair invading your senses as you breathed him in.

“Dilu…”

“Don’t …” His voice cut you off, the shaky, the uncertainty of it making your heart twist. “Don’t go.” You gave in so easily, how could you not.

“I’ll be right here.” Slipping your arms from his grip you wrapped them around his head and pulled him in even closer. His face pressing against your chest, the softness of his hair brushing against your skin. In this position, you were able to run your fingers through his hair and as you did the grip he had on your body loosened, but only a little. “You’re not alone, I’m not going anywhere. Okay?” He didn’t respond except to give you a quick squeeze and adjust his head so he could rest his cheek against you.

You stayed like this until you sensed the telling signs that he had drifted back to sleep and even past that, you didn’t dare move. Sleep began to take you soon after, your hands slowing their menstruations in his hair, your breathing becoming heavy and as the warmth took you, you swore you heard somebody say, I love you.

Kaeya

The wind seemed different, but Kaeya couldn’t put his finger on it. It was like there was something sinister in the atmosphere, secrets hiding in the breeze, but every time he thought he deciphered it, understood it, the knowledge drifted away from him again.

So, he continued on his way, not paying attention to things that didn’t reveal the truth to him; when the time came he would unravel them.

He was walking through the streets of Mondstadt and, while there seemed to be a growing nervousness building in the pit of his stomach, he made no indication there was anything amiss. Instead, he smiled, waved, and nodded to the citizens who greeted him, even lingered a bit longer than necessary at the lively ones who called his name so lovingly.

Out of the corner of his eye, he saw a few familiar faces and with saddened goodbyes, he made his way over to them.

“Well, this is a surprise.” He said, hand at his hip and smirk pulling at the corner of his lips.

“Oh, captain Kaeya!” Paimon shouted, her spritely figure bobbing up and down as she turned toward him. The traveler turned too, and he was greeted with a welcoming smile. “What are you doing out this early? Is something wrong?” Paimon asked, eyes peering behind him.

“Nothing of the sort, I’m just on my rounds and wanted to say hello.” He closed his eyes and smiled, his reassuring gesture which almost always eased any suspicions of his actions. “What brings the two of you here today?”

“Ah! Well … Paimon was hungry and wanted some … sticky honey roast!” Her head seemed to turn to the location of whatever smell wafted on the wind, a small sliver of drool appearing in the corner of her mouth. Kaeya laughed and just as he was about to make a comment about her glutinous nature, a sudden flash of dead eyes and bloodied face washed over Paimons. It came so quickly and was gone all in a single second.

“Kaeya?” The traveler looked at him and he blinked a few times in an attempt to recollect himself.

He tried to laugh it off, “I’d say I wouldn’t expect this type of behavior from you, but I know that wouldn’t be true.”

“Paimon can’t help it, when good food is calling I will be there to eat it up! Speaking of, I can hear it calling me now!” She was growing impatient and had already floated partway toward her desires cutting the conversation short.

The traveler smiled, hands resting on her hips before turning back to him. His mouth opened to leave her with some snarky comment when again, violent images clouded his eyes. The once white dress of the traveler now stained in red, her eyes empty, hair matted and the flowers which she always wore were wilted and black, a long bloodied slit stretched across her throat.

“Are you okay, you don’t look well.” She questioned, her hand nearly touching his arm, and when the images disappeared he pulled back from her. His feet taking a few hesitant steps backward, his hand reaching to cover the place her fingers grazed.

“I-I’m fine.” He chuckled again, but this time his laugh was much more strained, desperately he tried to find a way to get out of the situation. “I think Paimon’s waiting for you, you wouldn’t want her to eat so much she couldn’t fly now, would you?” He smiled and hoped the traveler wouldn’t notice how his lips trembled.

“Okay, see you later, Kaeya.” She called out to him, as she bounded up the stairs, he was left to his troubling thoughts.

Quickly, he disappeared from their sight and began walking toward the church, maybe he needed to visit the nuns. He must be sick. As he passed by the stalls he saw a few other familiar faces but the images continued to flash between normal and devastating, almost like those toys you peer through to look at vintage images, only instead of beautiful, playful scenes each time he pressed the lever he only saw a new nightmarish image. At some point, they became so overwhelming he found himself staring at the ground in a desperate attempt to avoid anymore.

On the steps leading around the courtyard he ran into Barbara, the exact person he wanted to meet but when he lifted his head to speak to her he started to shake at the sight. Her small frame was twisted and bent, her head turned in an ungodly direction, her eyes staring at her broken hand, blood slipping from her mouth. Her voice spilled from her mouth but it sounded like painful gurgling. He stumbled backward and his feet collided with something, when he looked down he saw the dead body of the acting grandmaster, her hand still gripping tightly onto her sword.

He closed his eyes and when he opened them the images didn’t change. He lifted his hands to his face but stopped when he saw the blood dripping from his fingers. Turning them over and following the spattered blood up to his arm until he noticed the once blue clothes were stained purple. He heard screaming and when he turned to look at the source he saw what looked like a hellish stream of frozen, petrified, slaughtered bodies as far as the eye could see. The small adventurer boy, whose luck never seemed to be on his side, lay draped over the body of the girl who claimed to be a princess. A large purple hat half-frozen in the fountain, the green-haired alchemist slumped against the wall, glass bottles spilling from her bag.

Kaeya’s chest felt so tight he thought he would pass out, he desperately flicked his hands in an attempt to get the blood off of them but it didn’t seem to work. The harder he tried the darker the liquid became and he thought his sanity had all but left him until he heard the sound of clapping from the steps above him.

“Well done.” The voice was as cold as the air on the top of Dragonspine, and just as lifeless. “You’ve proved your worth, my son.” Kaeya turned on his heels but never saw the face of the man who spoke to him.

Kaeya woke up in a cold sweat, he felt his whole body jump all at once, but not enough to thrust him upward. Instead, he lay with his back on the mattress and tried to still his pounding heart, his shaking breaths, licked his chapped lips. He leaned up, sliding his legs out from under the sheets and placing his feet on the cold floor. The sensation felt good, grounding almost as he tried to stop his head from spinning. One hand gripped tightly against the edge of the bed while the other wiped at the sweat that formed on his brow. He ran his fingers through his long hair, doing his best to pull the strands away from his face as he looked down at his bouncing legs.

A light turned on and he stills, his body freezing at the illumination. “Kaeya?” You mumbled, voice still heavy from sleep, a soft hum sounds from behind him and he felt the bed shift as you turned toward him.

“It’s nothing, go back to sleep.” He pushed through his dry throat, he just now realized how thirsty he had become.

“Are you sure? You were whining in your sleep.” The realization of that stung his pride, and he couldn’t stop his leg from bouncing again. Of course, he tried to play it off.

“Oh, spying on me while I’m sleeping were you. I didn’t know you were such a deviant.” He joked, but he could tell it didn’t have as much of a punch as it normally did. It didn’t matter, you just kept on as if he didn’t make the joke to begin with.

“Whatever you were dreaming didn’t seem enjoyable.” Without him knowing, you had slid your way to him, arms wrapping around his cold skin, hands against his chest, and chin resting against his shoulder. You squeezed tighter around him and whispered, “you’re shaking.”

Somehow, you saw right through him, you always did. From the moment he met you, you had this uncanny ability to look completely at him, never missing a single sign. “It was just a bad dream.” He let the honesty fall onto his legs, the words drifted into the darkness that spread out from underneath the bed.

“Whatever it was, it wasn’t real. It was just a dream.”

“You’re right, it was just a dream.” He turned his body and slid his hand around your waist until it rested against your back. With a soft kiss, he placed his lips against your forehead, against the tip of your nose, and on your chin relishing in the way your eyes fluttered closed and skin warmed to his gesture. “Let’s get back to sleep, shall we.”

“We can talk about it if you’d like.” You attempt and he uses it as an opportunity to tell you some silly little lie about the nightmare he most definitely did not have. When the two of you settled back into the bed and he ushered you onto this chest so he could breathe in your smell, feel the pressure of your torso on his chest and hear the slow sound of your breath, he finally lets his mind wander back to the real dream which would haunt him for weeks.

It was just a dream … He recalls your comment and wonders if what you said was true.

[nightwishesworld]

Too Much to Drink

Requested by my dear friends on Tumblr. It was meant to be more flirty than fluffy, but oh well. I'm sure you guys will like it anyway.

*******************************************************************************************

Why the hell did I agree to this? You thought to yourself as you tipped your head back, shot glass pressed against your opened lips, face scrunching in disgust when the alcohol burned your throat. Your stomach lurched for a moment, while you slammed the thick shot glass down onto the island in the kitchen.

The girls giggled around you and one of them slapped you on the back with the force of a brick. It was a stupid decision, thought of by one and only Cassandra Dimitrescu. She thought it would be a great way for the four of you to bond by throwing back shots after a long day.

You being the fool that you are, agreed. Now here you are, six shots later, all riled up with possibly the most dangerous three women in Romania. You were starting to get way too drunk, too quickly.

“I can’t believe we haven’t killed you yet!” Daniela said way too loudly, dropping her bottle of “wine” to shatter on the ground.

Bela nods along, obviously the soberest of the sisters. “Mother would hang us by a silver chain if anything happened to her precious y/n.”

“She loves you so much,” Cassandra swoons. “It’s almost nauseating it’s so sweet.”

“I love her so much more. No one can ever take me from her. Unless there’s a bigger sexier vampire out there somewhere...”

“Don’t let Alcina hear you say that.” You heard a familiar, feminine voice come up behind you. “You’d break her poor heart.”

A round of giggles erupted as you chose to look up behind you instead of turning around. You could barely make out Alcina’s face behind her large chest. Your face quickly flushed, remembering how soft they felt under your touch.

Alcina sighs and shakes her head. “I take it this was your idea girls? How much have you had to drink?”

“Too many.” One of the vampires laughed, leaning her body into the island, face down on the granite top. “She’s fun. We like her.”

“Oh good,” Alcina’s tone drips sarcasm. “And it only took you inebriating her to find that out.” Her nails threaded themselves into your hair and started massaging your scalp.

“Looks like our fun is over,” Cassandra giggles. All three girls disappear into moth swarms, their giggles echoing down the corridors.

Alcina gripped your head tenderly and tilted it back up so you were looking at her. She appeared more relaxed now that it was just the two of you, no longer in “mom mode.”

“Did you have fun?”

“Too much fun.” You sigh, closing your eyes when her hand brushes over the back of your head. “I think I’m getting drunk?”

“Getting? My love, I think you’re already there.”

You shook your buzzing head, nuzzling as close as you could. “Mm-not. We didn’t even have that much to drink.”

Alcina chuckled. “Yes, clearly. Someone went through an entire rack of Sanguis Virgini.”

“Doesn’t mean it was me! That’s a vampy drink I can’t have that.”

She shoots you an amused smile and tousles your hair. “You’re lucky you’re so cute, do you know that?”

“I love them, Al!” You giggled, wrapping your arms around her and laying your head against her warm thigh. “Just like I love you.”

“I love you too, porumbel mic.”

“You’re so wonderful, Alci. I love you so much.”

“Okay, Y/n.” Alcina laughed, rolling her eyes with a blush. “Let’s go to bed.”

“Only if you’ll join me.”

Alcina laughs as she picks you up gently, making sure the sudden movement isn’t making you nauseous. “We’ve been sharing a bed for some time now, Love. Why on Satan’s scorched earth would I stop tonight?”

You laugh at her words and nestle yourself comfortably against her chest. You shifted, sliding your arms up and around her neck to keep yourself securely wrapped in her arms. She would never drop you, never in a million years, but the action did make you feel safer as the room started to spin. You watched the movement of her pink lips as she cracked a small smile, imagining the way that they moved against your own when she kisses you.

Another rush of warmth shot through your veins, and you bit your lip. She is so attractive. God you love this woman. This perfect, beautiful vampire goddess.

“I love you.” You murmured when she looked down at you, after opening the doors to your shared bedroom. You felt tears well up in your eyes.

“Darling.” She shifted your body to one arm so she could cup your face with her free hand. “I love you too, porumbel mic.”

“I’m not a dove,” you slur. “I just really love you, ok?”

“Come on.” She laughed, carrying you straight out to the balcony. Fresh air always helped you feel better. With her free hand, Alcina dragged the seat from her vanity out with her and placed it strategically so she could lean back against the stone. She sat down and propped you into her lap. “Why are you crying?”

“Be-because you’re the best partner in the world and I love you.” You sniffed, snuggling up under her arms. You felt tears fall from your eyes, leaving cold trails down your flushed cheeks. “I think I’m drunk.”

Alcina chose to ignore the statement. “I love you, too, sweetheart. ”Tu ești lumea mea.”

The sentiment only makes you tear up more. “How can I be your world if I’m just...me? I’m not special like you or the girls. Even Heisenberg can turn into a damn dog.”

“Porumbel mic,” her lips brushed against your temple, curled up in a small smile. “I’ve loved you since the day I met you.”

You giggled, turning your head so you could press a sloppy kiss against the underside of her jaw.

“You are the best thing that has ever walked through the castle doors. Please don’t think otherwise, porumbel mic.”

You hid in her neck, lips brushing against her neck as you continued to slur. “You’re the best thing that’s ever happened to me in the history of ever.”

Alcina pulled you away so she could look at your face – using her thumbs to wipe away any trace of tears. “What have I done to deserve such praise?”

She leaned forward, chastely pressing her soft lips against yours for a moment. She pulled back quickly, leaving a tingle on your lips as her forehead pressed against yours.

Oh, god…

Oh fuck….

You pulled away as quick as you could and stumbled off her lap and towards the edge of the balcony. You barely made it before emptying the contents of your stomach all over the gardens below.

“Fuck, y/n. How many drinks did you have?” She asked, brushing her hand up and down your back as you dry heaved.

“I...I don’t know. Victoria gave me tequila.”

“Alright, let’s get you to bed.” She sighed, wrapping her arm around your shoulders and dragging you back inside. “You can change into your pajamas and shower in the morning when I know you won’t slip and crack your head open.”

You pulled the covers back on your side of the bed and watched as Alcina moved to get into hers. She adjusted herself comfortably and opened her arms for you to cuddle. You happily obliged.

“You’re going to feel like shit tomorrow.”

You hum against her chest, peppering kisses on her breasts. “You’ll take care of me, right?”

“Of course, porumbel mic. Now go to sleep, you’ll need it.”

[heartsofbeskar]

the red wolf

chapter one: two swords

oberyn martell x fem!reader

WARNINGS: mentions and descriptions of violence (GOT canon typical), talk of death, language

WORDS: 3.5K

EXCERPT: Sunlight streamed through the window, the painted glass covering the two of you in an array of colours. When you had arrived in King’s Landing, you were sure it was the most beautiful place you had ever been. How could Winterfell compare to this sunlight and sea and splendor? But the longer you stayed, the more you saw that the beauty was but a thin layer, covering the stench of violence and greed.

A/N: this is in second person, but the reader insert character belongs to a canon house which of course implies physical characteristics, including her being white! (ik this is a problem for some reader inserts being coded white so i wanted to address it here)

masterlist

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Your hands trembled as they threaded through the soft, red locks. You used to do this when she was younger, you recalled, when she couldn’t sleep or was feeling ill or had a frightful dream.

It wasn’t just a dream this time.

Her shaky breath was warm against your neck, and you pulled her head closer in against you. Tears fell down the front of your bodice and you swallowed thickly, as you felt a familiar burn behind your own eyes. You willed the tears not to fall.

“It isn’t fair,” came her voice, impossibly small, against your bare skin. Her hands gripped tightly into the dense fabric of your skirts. “He wasn’t a traitor.”

You shushed her gently, your free hand ghosting up and down her back. You longed for the days when she was small enough for you to collect her in your lap, hold her close to your breast, as your mother had done for you both.

Another sob wracked her body, and you squeezed your eyes painfully shut at the sound. You hated it, you hated this. How you couldn’t protect her, or your father, or your brothers, or anyone.

“Sansa,” you whispered, taking her face in your hands, tilting it up to look into yours. Your heart shattered again at the sight of her, skin glistening with her tears, eyes and lips swollen and flushed from crying. You rested your forehead against hers, thumbs stroking her over delicate features. “You cannot say those things outside of this room. Tell me you know this, please.”

Your voice broke on the last word, emotion clawing its way up your throat. You loathed to ask this of her, to harden her once trusting and open spirit even further, but you needed her to know it. You wouldn’t give the Lannisters any excuse to hurt her, too.

“I do,” she choked out, fresh tears spilling over. You pressed a soft kiss to her forehead, pulling her back into your arms.

Sunlight streamed through the window, the painted glass covering the two of you in an array of colours. When you had arrived in King’s Landing, you were sure it was the most beautiful place you had ever been. How could Winterfell compare to this sunlight and sea and splendor? But the longer you stayed, the more you saw that the beauty was but a thin layer, covering the stench of violence and greed.

“We are Starks, my sweet sister.” You resumed combing through Sansa’s long hair; you weren’t sure if it was a comfort to her or to you. “We will not yield.”

—

The great walls of Winterfell rose behind you, as your feet carried you through the tall grass that grew uncontrolled just outside the keep’s gates. Small creatures darted to and fro under its cover. A gentle wind blew across your face, pushing your hair to the side. You heard the call of a wild raven overhead.

Winter bounded past you, the direwolf’s strong limbs carrying him far ahead of you with ease, though his grey speckled coat made him easy to find against the late summer colours of the grass. He turned back to look at you, mouth wide open in a pant, then gave an impatient bark. You laughed, shaking your head.

“You know I cannot keep up!” You called out to him, as if he could understand your reply. But ever since Winter had been a small pup, brought to Winterfell by your brothers with the rest of the litter, it had felt like he could. All the time you had trained him, he had tilted his head at your affirmations and musings, and had burrowed into your side when you were upset. It was an inexplicable connection between the two of you.

He waited patiently for you now, tail wagging and legs bouncing in excitement. He always loved these excursions outside the walls, and it provided a convenient excuse for you. As much as you loved to blame Winter and his need to get out for air, the same desire always burned within you as well.

Your bow and arrow shifted across your back as you increased your pace. The tips of your fingers grazed across the flowers that periodically sprung up from the dense grass. You made a note to pick some on your way back, for Sansa and little Rickon. You knew they’d enjoy them.

The treeline seemed to swallow the sun overhead as you passed beneath it, relishing in the coolness of the air here. Of course, the air had become cooler and cooler with every day that passed now. Winter is coming, your father harped on. And he was right, as usual. The arrival of your first winter sent a trickle of excitement through your entire body whenever you dwelt on it. Mother and father and Uncle Benjen had told you stories of winter, of the endless white and sparkling ice which could drip from the overhangs in the courtyard.

Winter ran excited circles around you as you set your quiver against the ground. You signalled to him with your hand, a communication in the language only the two of you spoke, and he settled promptly down to the ground, back end still wiggling with excitement. But he knew the best was yet to come if he waited.

Pointing the bow at the ground, you pulled an arrow from the quiver, resting it and nocking it against the string. Hooking two of your fingers around the end of the arrow, you scanned your eyes across the shadowed forest floor.

Before long, a movement caught your eye. A small rabbit sat, just a few yards ahead of you, chewing on some of the greenery there. You brought the arrow slowly, silently, up to your eye level, barely daring to breathe, lest you scare timid the creature away. You gripped the bow tightly in your opposite hand. Bringing the string straight backwards to sit next to your face, you tried to envision the path once you released it. Taking one last deep breath, you snapped your fingers off the string.

The arrow flew, fast and long through the air, and finally — fell a few feet left of the rabbit, spooking it into running deeper into the woods.

“Shit,” you cursed, collecting the wayward projectile from where it had sunk into the earth.

“Now, I don’t think your mother would appreciate that language.” A deep voice emerged from behind you, exciting Winter to stand and jump once around again.

“Father!” You gasped, whirling around. “I am so sorry, I know I shouldn’t speak that way, I would never—”

He held up a hand to cut off your babble, a small smile settling on his time weathered face. “It’s alright. I have cursed too many times to reprimand it from any of my children.”

You mirrored his smile, moving to stand beside him. You looked down at your bow a little sheepishly. “I was just trying to practice a bit. You know how Jon and Robb like to tease.”

“I do.” He placed a firm hand on your shoulder. “But you shouldn’t be out here alone, sweet.”

“I have Winter with me.”

He laughed at that, moving his hand now to scratch behind the ears of the direwolf still pacing eagerly between the two of you. Winter yipped in excitement, pushing up against his hand.

“Winter is about as ferocious as a newborn babe,” he teased. “The opposite of Greywind, might I add. Anyone but Robb approaches, and that wolf is on alert.”

“Winter just has a gentle heart, is all.” You drop to one knee, letting the direwolf nuzzle into your chest, stroking his soft ears.

“It’s not unlike the differences between you and Robb, truth be told. Strange, how you can share a womb with another living being, and yet grow to be so distinct.” He had a far away expression on his face when you looked up. You stood again, allowing him to grasp your hands in his.

“You’re not here just to chastise me for going beyond the walls.” You knew, too well, the expression on Ned Stark’s face when he had to speak of things he didn’t want to.

He nodded. “Sweet child … you know I have nothing but respect for you and your choices. But, I am afraid it has become an unavoidable truth. Your mother and I have discussed this, and we have decided that once we arrive in King’s Landing, we need to decide on a man for you to marry.”

Your face was impassive as you considered his words. You knew in any other family, in any other man’s house, you would have been wed as soon as you’d bled for the first time. But your father had allowed you to grow and mature past that, and you cherished those years, holding them close to your heart. You squeezed his hands.

“I know, Father. And I am happy to do my duty as the eldest daughter of the house. You needn't feel guilty — I know you won’t marry me to a monster.” Your lips quirked upwards. And it was true; you had the utmost trust in your father that he would choose someone kind, someone level headed. That he would make a match considering your wishes, too, and it would be a life you could grow to love a man in.

He sighed, shoulders sagging in relief. You wondered if the prospect of marrying his first daughter, his first child, was more difficult for him than it was for you. He leaned in, pressing a kiss to your forehead.

“You’re a good daughter. But still a mediocre marksman; come, let me show you where you went wrong,” he said, picking up your discarded bow and quiver.

—

You longed to be in those woods now, with your wolf and your father and your bow. In your home. All the beauty and splendor and opulence of King’s Landing could never erase the horrors you’d endured here.

You glanced behind you, where Tyrion and her handmaiden were trying their best to implore Sansa to eat something. There was an impressive array of foods strewn about the small table, though your younger sister touched none of them.

As you watched, her handmaiden — whom you suspected was no handmaiden at all, given her incompetence at her job — rose from the table, shooting a glare at Lord Tyrion.

“She needs to eat,” she quipped, looking up at you briefly before she left, her light skirts swaying gently as she retreated down the garden path.

You turned and sat slowly in her vacated seat, saying nothing. Sansa didn’t spare you a glance, her eyes vacant as she continued to look at the table in front of her, not really seeing it.

“I can’t let you starve,” Tyrion implored. You bit back the remark on the edge of your tongue. How amusing it was to think of a Lannister caring for a Stark’s wellbeing. Even if it was the Stark he’d been wed to. “I swore to protect you. My lady, I am your husband. Let me help you.”

“How can you help me?”

“I don’t know, but I can try.”

“I lie awake all night staring at the canopy, thinking about how they died.” This you knew to be true, as those past nights you had curled yourself around her, in her marital bed, unable to sleep, but equally unable to leave her alone in this place. Sansa continued.

“Do you know what they did to my brother? How they sewed his direwolf’s head onto his body?” You shut your eyes tightly, images of Robb coming unbidden to the back of your eyelids. His gentle smile, his awful jokes, his tenderness as you’d raised that very direwolf alongside your own. “And my mother. They cut her throat to the bone and threw her body in the—”

“Sansa, please,” you choked out. You could not take any more, or surely the tears you had so desperately supressed for days would finally emerge. She sent a cool glance your way, but stopped.

Tyrion cast his eyes down; you could tell he was carefully considering his next words. Ever the silver tongue. “What happened to your family was a terrible crime. I didn’t know your brother. He seemed like a good man, but I didn’t know him. Your mother, I admired her. She wanted to have me executed, but I admired her. She was a strong woman. And she was fierce when it came to protecting her children. Sansa … your mother would want you to carry on. Both of you. You know it’s true.”

Sansa didn’t make any indication she had heard his valiant speech. Good, you thought to yourself. She stood, hands lightly falling onto the edge of the table. “Will you pardon me, my Lord? I’d like to visit the godswood.”

“Of course,” Tyrion nodded enthusiastically, brows drawn together. The scar you knew he’d gotten during the Battle of Blackwater Bay was deep set above one eye. “Prayer can be helpful, I hear.”

“I don’t pray any more,” she said quietly, as she began walking away. “It’s the only place I go where people don’t talk to me.”

You watched her form as she walked away, knowing she wouldn’t want you to follow. Your heart felt like it was being crushed inside your chest at the sight of it, at the knowledge that you could do nothing for her pain. Nothing for your own pain, even.

Tyrion appeared conflicted, eyes looking between where his wife had now left, and you where you remained seated. You took a deep breath, straightening your back.

“You needn’t stay and pretend to care for me as well,” she quipped, jaw tense. “... my Lord.”

Another Lord, another Lannister even, would have struck you. But perhaps marrying your child sister had curbed that edge in Tyrion, for he said nothing else before taking his leave from you.

As he turned the corner in the path, you sighed, dropping your shoulders. You stood from the table, returning to your previous spot, overlooking the sea. You let out a shaking breath as you leaned against the short garden wall.

The sea churned beneath you, it's great waves smashing ferociously on the rocks below. It smelled of salt and wind and you tried desperately to fill your lungs with it, to wash away every other feeling inside of you.

“A wolf of winter in the summer gardens; a strange sight indeed.” A lilting, accented voice came up behind you. Turning, you saw a tall man adorned in mustard robes, accents of fine jewelry hanging from his neck, on his hands, wrists, everywhere you could see. His skin was tan, golden, in a way you had never seen before, and the top of his robe exposed the start of a golden chest. His neatly trimmed beard and hair were dark, but not as dark as his eyes, which bore into you now.

You noticed the red suns stitched into the fabric of his robes — House Martell. Your father would never forgive you if you forgot all those long lessons on the great families of Westeros.

“My Lord,” you inclined your head politely in his direction, willing your body into the proper posture. “You’ve arrived from Dorne, for the wedding I presume?”

The man raised an eyebrow at you, stepping closer, until he stood directly in front of you. One step forward and you would be in direct contact with the expanse of his chest.

“You paid attention to your schooling on Houses,” he said lightly. He reached down to grab one of your hands that hung by your side, bringing it slowly up to his lips. “I am Prince Oberyn, indeed of Dorne. Forgive my manners, but I do not believe I need an introduction to you, Lady Stark.”

His dark eyes held yours, as he leaned in further. You could feel his breath on your face. It was pleasantly warm, and smelled of … oranges? “I heard of the tragic events that befell your family, at the hands of your benefactors.” He spit the last word.

“I do not know what you mean,” you breathed out. You pleaded with him with your eyes, please don’t do this; don’t make me speak it where they can hear. “The Lannisters have been most kind and generous to me and my sister, more than we deserve even. My family …” You swallowed thickly; your skin felt hot despite the shade. “My family betrayed the crown, and has paid their price.”

Oberyn’s brows drew together in a worried expression as he studied your face. You didn’t look away from his gaze, holding him there, trying not to show a crack in the facade. He ran a light hand up your arm, and though he barely touched you, a shiver ran across your skin. It came to rest on your shoulder, his thumb rubbing small circles over the fabric there.

“Little wolf, I assure you that the Lannisters are no friends of mine.” Something dark flashed in his eyes, for only a moment, so fleeting you weren’t even sure it had been there. “They have ripped apart my family with their teeth, also.”

You felt that particular burn in your eyes, and you pressed your nails into the palms of your hands, willing it away. You eyed the man’s hand where it still sat on your shoulder.

“Yet you break bread with them, do you not?” Your eyes were glued onto his as they cast downwards. “You come peacefully to King’s Landing, you bring wedding gifts for King Joffrey, and you drink from their cups.”

Your breathing was heavy now, emotion you had pushed into the deepest parts of yourself leaking out. You shut your eyes, shaking your head. This was a Prince.

“I … I am sorry, Prince Oberyn, I should not have—” He cut you off, gently pressing a hand to the side of your face. The skin of his fingers was rough, calloused, no doubt from years of fighting.

“You do not need to apologize, little wolf.”

“You shouldn’t call me that here.”

The side of his mouth quirked upwards at that, one delicate brow arching. It transformed the planes of his face, and you found yourself transfixed on the shapes and textures set into his tanned skin.

“I do believe we are alone here, little wolf.” Teasing now, he used the nickname with purpose. You liked the shape of it on his lips, though you still fought the overwhelming urge to peer over your shoulder at whoever may be watching.

“You don’t understand, my Lord.” You shook your head again, and his hand fell from your cheek. “King’s Landing is a pit of snakes. And they are always — always — listening. You are a Prince of Dorne and I…” You didn’t finish. I am nothing but a stupid girl who waited too long to marry, is too old for the King, is tainted and stained with the stench of my family’s rebellion. I am doused in their blood, being made to drown in it.

Your palm felt wet, drawing your attention down. Opening it, you saw blood welling from the four small crescent shaped tears that now appeared in the delicate skin there. Oberyn’s eyes followed yours, and they softened at the sight, cupping your hand in both of his. They were so large around yours, and steady.

“I am a Prince of Dorne,” he said, his voice quiet, not looking at your face. He pulled a handkerchief from the inside of his robe, next to his chest. Gently, he wrapped it around the palm of your hand, seemingly unbothered by the blood which immediately began to blot onto it. Many moons had taught you that blood never came off. Tying it secure under your knuckles, he met your eyes, lifting your head with a finger under your chin. “And if this is indeed a pit of snakes, it is a good thing you are in the company of the Viper. Your words — all of your words — are safe with me, little wolf.”

You wanted so badly to believe him, to think that there was someone in this wretched place you could trust, outside of your sister. That a man was really looking upon you with kind, genuine eyes, for the first time since they’d taken your father’s head from his shoulders.

The sea crashed particularly forcefully below, startling you. He leaned back now, pulling his hands away from you, and you immediately missed their warmth. As if he had carried the Dornish sun within his very body, all the way to King’s Landing. He kissed your unwrapped hand again, briefly, and he sent you another smile before beginning to retreat, hands clasped behind his back.

At the mouth of the garden entrance, he turned halfway, face playful now. “I should like to make strolling in these gardens a daily habit whilst I’m here; there is so much to see. Would you care to join me in that?”

You nodded, smiling; a small one, but the first smile you remembered giving genuinely to someone in a long time.

A/N: aaah this was so fun to do that i ended up finishing it waaay sooner than i thought i would! so excited to see what people think!! also it will probably end up being oberyn x ellaria x reader bc... i love her and i love bisexuals

taglist: @asta-lily @pedrostories

[flowercrown-bard]

To the place up on our hill

Whumptober prompt: “You have to let go”

content warning: Major Character Death

pairing: Geralt/Jaskier

word count: 1179

AO3

"Are those for me?"

Geralt's shoulders tensed when Jaskier's voice whispered into his ear. Even after all these years of Jaskier greeting him like that, Geralt still wasn't used to it. He didn't think he ever could get used to Jaskier draping himself over him as if Geralt was the only thing worth holding onto. The bard's arms were near weightless around Geralt's shoulders as he embraced Geralt from behind.

Geralt swallowed and tightened his grip on the flowers that were too delicate to be held like someone like him. If he held on too tightly, the stems would break. The petals would fall. There would be nothing left.

The flowers would get lost amidst all the other flowers that blossomed on this hill. Their hill.

"Of course," he replied, forcing his lips to curl up into a smile. He hoped it was soft. He hope it spoke of everything that Geralt couldn’t say with words. "They always are."

Jaskier let out a happy hum and pressed a kiss against Geralt's temple, a soft sigh that ghosted over his skin, before he let go and rounded Geralt to look at the flowers in his hands.

"Forget-me-nots!" Jaskier's eyes shone with excitement as if he was surprised. As if Geralt hadn’t brought him these flowers every year, ever since they had told each other those precious three words and Geralt’s life had changed forever. "You remembered."

"How could I not?"

Blue petals, like Jaskier's eyes. A name so ironic it was nearly cruel. As if Geralt could ever forget. Jaskier's eyes softened and he placed a hand on Geralt's cheek, nothing more than the ghost of a touch.

"What else did you bring me?" Jaskier asked. "What stories do you have to tell?"

Any story. Any that Jaskier could ask for. However many it took for him to stay at Geralt's side for just a little longer.

Any story, except the most important one. The one that hadn't made it past Geralt's lips no matter how much time had passed.

"I could tell you about how Ciri fought her first monster. Or how Lambert brought his Cat to the keep this year?"

Jaskier's thumb brushed over the scar on Geralt's cheek. Tenderly. Lovingly. Barely there. It was a new scar. Jaskier hadn’t been there when Geralt had gotten it, but every time they met on this hill, he caressed it as gently as he would have cared for it, had he been around to do so when Geralt had gotten hurt.

“Oh, love, you need to be more careful,” Jaskier said and placed a barely-there kiss onto the scar.

Geralt held his breath, bracing himself for what was to come. Their little dance. The ritual of their anniversary. The question Jaskier would ask every year.

"Why don't you tell me about the time you confessed your love to me?"

Despite knowing that his would come, Geralt's chest grew tight and his throat felt as if someone was squeezing around it. Had he always felt like this around Jaskier? Or only since Jaskier had told him that he loved him? Since he had made all of Geralt’s foolish hopes become real with three simple words, only for them to shatter again in the next moment.

When he didn't answer – couldn’t answer - Jaskier cocked his head to the side. "You promised me you'd tell me one day. After all, I wasn't there when you confessed and I would so love to know how you did it."

Geralt opened his mouth, but all that left his throat was a sob. Broken. Too quiet. Not even the cry of anguish that had torn from his throat ten years ago, in this very place had been loud enough. He hoped Jaskier hadn’t heard it.

A gust of wind ruffled the flowers in Geralt's hand, taking some of the petals with them. Geralt tightened his grip, lowering his head to look at the flowers. They were exactly the kind of flowers that Jaskier had always admired. Beautiful, vibrant, soft to the touch. And yet they were already dead. Plucked from the earth and carried with him as if they were still full of life, as if he wasn’t the reason they would bloom no longer. It was selfish plucking flowers from the earth and keeping them and yet, he couldn't let go. Though his body trembled and his mind would break as his heart had long ago, he would hold onto the flower until there was nothing left of them.

Forget me not.

What a beautiful thing to ask of someone. What a cruel thing.

"This has to stop," Geralt said, his voice coming out rough. "You have to let go. You can't keep coming back."

Jaskier’s brows knitted together.

"Love," his hand trailed down until it reached Geralt's chin and titled his head up, until their eyes met again. Yellow meeting blue. Blue like forget-me-nots. Like the dead flowers in his hand. "I've always been with you. You are the one who keeps coming back. The only reason why I can't let go is because you haven't. I can't leave you alone like this."

"Jaskier." His voice broke around the name. Tears stung in his eyes and his chest felt like it was split in half.

Jaskier smiled as his thumb gently wiped away the stray tears running down Geralt's face.

"Tell me that story now?" Jaskier asked.

For the first time since that night ten years ago, Geralt nodded.

"I told you that I loved you," Geralt said and looked at Jaskier one last time, taking in his blue eyes that were so full of love and understanding, "when I held you in my arms, cradling your head and running my hands through your hair my other hand was lying on your chest. Right above your heart. I kissed your forehead then and your eyes were closed. Just moments before, you had told me how you felt.” He took a shuddering breath and tried to lean into Jaskier's touch, but there wasn't anything there to lean into. Not really. Not anymore.

“I remember saying that. I was holding your hand” Jaskier took Geralt’s hand and placed it onto his chest, his own hand coming to rest atop of it, a recreation of that night. Like then, Geralt tried desperately to feel a heartbeat beneath his fingers. “I promised to never let go until you did.”

“When you said you loved me, I was the happiest I had ever been. I had also never been more devastated. But I told you I loved you when it was already too late. You were already gone.”

One last time, Jaskier smiled at him. Proudly. Gratefully.

"It wasn't too late. I have always known."

"Jaskier?" Geralt returned the smile, though he knew it wasn't as real as Jaskier's. Maybe one day it could be again. "I love you."

With that, Geralt let go. The flowers fell to the ground, landing with a soft thud next to the stone, which marked the place where Geralt's heart was buried.

[lovelyspencers]

Both Sides Like Chanel

“I see both sides like chanel,

see on both sides like chanel.”

Synopsis: Spencer and fem!Reader have been dating for a while now and there is something that Spencer hasn’t trusted anyone else with that he wants to share with her

Content Warning: mentions of drug addiction, allusions to sex, brief mention of internalized homophobia

Word Count: 3.3k

A/N: this is my first fanfiction and I’m not entirely sure how tumblr works yet but it is my mission to do something about the lack of bi!Spencer representation

Compared to his colleagues and friends, Spencer was a fairly private person. He liked to keep things to himself because his life centered around repetitious disappointments. So, he was content that his private life was not set on a stage, his misery displayed for everyone to see.

But then he fell in love with you the minute you walked into the bullpen and bumped into him, leaving your belongings all scattered on the marble floor. Spencer was never one for touch but when he took your hand to sweep you off the ground, butterflies filled his stomach like the air on a humid summer’s day.

After a few years of friendship, his adoration for you grew as easily as ivy on an abandoned house and it was on New Year’s Day that the team celebrated in Rossi’s mansion that his slightly intoxicated self decided that he was not able to hold it in any longer.

You had sneaked off to Rossi’s backyard after Garcia had gotten a bit of too affectionate and randomly started kissing everyone.

Both of you were slightly buzzed, your head laid in his lap as he explained the constellations to you. He wished that the sky above you was the only thing that filled his mind, but when he looked at you with your skin slightly flustered from the alcohol and your lips pursed as in deep thought, all that he could think about was how much he wanted to kiss you.

It wasn’t the first time, the thought floated around in his mind. It had been so crucial in fact that the thought of your lips softly pressed on his played in his head like a film reel every night, unable to give him the sweet escape of sleep.

So, when the blank sky was filled with multicolored fireworks, the moonlight illuminated the complexion of your face and cheers erupted from the silence surrounding you without a second thought, he leaned in to kiss you.

You tasted like champagne and the strawberry lipstick you obsessively put on whenever you got anxious and to Spencer, he felt as if he had found the missing puzzle piece he’d been seeking for all his life.

And then like they always did, his thoughts began rushing through his mind like cars during rush hour and he instantly pulled back.

You were gonna hate him and then he would lose the only person he trusted with all his being and maybe you’d tell Penelope and everyone would laugh at him for believing that someone as amazing as you would ever-

But before his poisonous thoughts got the best of him, you grabbed the sides of his face and connected your lips with his again, filling the entirety of his body with pure bliss.

“I’ve been waiting so long for you to do that.” Your voice vibrated against his lips and he couldn’t help the smile that graced his face in the process.

The two of you could have kissed for only seconds or even hours because as he finally experienced what it felt like to be utterly yours, none of the things surrounding you mattered to him in the slightest.

All that mattered was that his biggest dream of your heart belonging to him entirely finally came true and he had no intention to ever let it go.

But even the most perfect moments couldn’t last forever and in this case, it was disturbed in the figment of the people the two of you considered family.

At first, you both didn't notice the footsteps on the grass, too caught up in trying to pour every stolen glance and hidden adoration in the simplicity of a kiss.

It wasn’t until cheers filled the silence around you that you hesitantly broke apart and were greeted with the sight of the team who all had smirks plastered on their faces.

To his delight, you didn’t entirely pull away from him like he thought you would instead you got off his lap to lazily wrap your arms around his torso. Subconsciously he pressed a kiss to your temple erupting even more amusement from the people watching you.

“About damn time.” Emily was the first to break out of her trance. Soon, congratulations were shared and the team tried to discreetly exchange money since they seemed to have some kind of bet going on. Even Hotch had a rare smile on his face and it was without a doubt the most beautiful start in the new year he could have ever wished for.

“I love you,” you muttered as you hid your face in his chest, and though there was no way the team could have heard what you told him, the smile on his face told them everything they needed to know.

“I love you too.”

He wished more than anything else that your love story could have ended that way and you lived happily ever after but this wasn’t a movie and the truth was that relationships were work. Work he was more than willing to put effort in but work nonetheless.

You loved each other dearly but you weren’t perfect and neither was he. Most of your fights revolved around his fear of vulnerability and even though he spent years building a wall around his heart so no one could ever shatter it again, he loved you far more than his self preservation so he tried his hardest.

And there was one particular thing, he always wanted to tell you or anyone who he felt earned his trust.

Throughout his life, his trust had been broken many times. So without even realizing it, there was a barrier between the two of you that prevented him from loving you to the fullest and he hated it.

But unlike Derek who immediately spread his problems around like it was just some gossip printed on the sixth page or JJ who kept Emily’s well-being to herself despite him coming to cry to her for months, you never betrayed his trust.

Even more so, you didn’t have that look of pity in your eyes that was equally as painful as daggers in his chest when he told you about his drug addiction or the schizophrenia of his mother.

You were easily the person on earth that he trusted the most but that didn’t mean that there weren’t some things that he still kept to himself.

But as he said, he wanted to change that and if one person was deserving of his honesty and vulnerability it was you.

Spencer had told you about his father leaving, the horrors he had to face that still haunted him in his dreams, his kidnapping from Tobias Hankel, and the cruelty of a childhood as a child prodigy.

While what he wanted to tell you wasn’t nearly as heavy it still felt like dead weight continuing to weigh him down.

Every time, he came close to telling you the truth, he got scared like a child in the dark and switched topics to something that didn’t matter at all.

Spencer also knew that you were aware that something was off. Before you started dating ten months ago, you had been best friends for years so he can positively say that you know him better than anybody else.

But today he had a plan.

You had been wanting to watch ‘Love, Simon’ with him for weeks and he had tried to avoid it for obvious reason but today he’d watch it with you and maybe then he’d gain the courage to talk to you.

He was aware of how illogical his fears were, after all, you had always been open about your bisexuality and had seen you beat up homophobes on various occasions (while Hotch hated it, it was on the long list of things that Spencer loved about you).

But he feared that maybe you wouldn’t want to be with someone who liked men and women or maybe that just didn’t fit with the type of man you were looking for or maybe-

Nope, he wasn’t doing this to himself. You were the kindest, most open hearted and loving person he knew and he had told you far more break up worthy thing than his sexuality.

When he had told you about his past drug addiction, you pulled up the sleeves of his shirt and kissed the fainting scars there and helped him get rid of the small stack of Dilaudid that he had kept hidden in his closet without any sign of judgment.

When he had told you about his mother, you pulled his head on your lap and started playing with his hair until the tears on his face dried and pinky promised him that you would stay with him even if he inhabited his mother’s illness because there was nothing that you would ever let drive a wedge between the two of you.

When he had told you about his childhood and confided in you for the relentless bullying he had to endure after you had found an invitation to a high school reunion in his mailbox, you had peppered him with kisses the entire night and showered him with compliments and love.

Not to mention that you convinced him to go to the high school reunion where everyone seemed equally as impressed by the beauty that his girlfriend possessed and the nature of his job. And every time, you sensed that he was uncomfortable you held his hand and wordlessly pulled him away, because you simply understood him like that.

The first night you slept over, he was more anxious over you sleeping next to him than the actual act of having sex with you (which said a lot because in a moment of desperation he had even asked Derek for sex advice) because he knew that the nightmares would jolt him awake again.

But it was so easy to be with you and when he pulled your body into his and showed you just how much he loved you in the most intimate act there was, all worries (and crappy advice that Derek had given him) left his mind and were quickly replaced by pure bliss and escasty.

And when he woke up shaking because some monsters don’t stay hidden in the dark, you were right there to comfort him until he was able to safely fall asleep with your arms wrapped around his waist.

Spencer was jolted back to reality when there was a knock on his door and he immediately wrapped you in a bone crushing hug before pouring all his worries and love into a kiss.

“We literally saw each other at work today. Did you really miss me that much already?” Your laughter that had become Spencer’s favorite sound ever since the first time he heard it filled the room, and he had to fight the urge to drop his plans and just worship you and your body for the entirety of the evening instead.

No, he was a man on a mission and he had repressed this conversation for way too long.

“I always miss you.”

And it was true, embarrassingly so. When you were on a case, Hotch decided against giving the two of you a shared hotel room, and every time, he had to fall asleep without your body heat next to him he felt as if there was some part of himself missing.

You gave him a peck on the cheek before you intertwined your fingers with Spencer’s and lead him to his couch where you rather ungracefully plumped down.

He joined you and your head immediately landed on his lap as a silent invitation for him to play with your hair which he happily obliged to.

“Can we watch ‘Love, Simon’ today?”

“Yes! I’ve only been begging you to watch it for years,” you laughed while grabbing the hand that wasn’t massaging your temple and holding it in yours.

He laughed too but it was filled with anxiety and you heard it because of course you did. Others might no be able to make out when he was uncomfortable but you always knew when to press him and when to leave him alone.

“We don’t have to watch that movie if you really don’t want to, babe,” you said as you propped yourself up to sit next to him again, all while never letting go of his hand.

“It’s not that. I just-”

Well, it’s now or never.

“I’m bisexual,” he blurted out, surprising himself with the sudden statement, and when he hesitantly locked eyes with yours there was none of the judgment or disgust he feared.

There was just love and understanding like there always was.

You were just about to say something before he gave you a look that clearly signaled to just let him talk for a bit and you answered the silent request with a soft smile and a gentle squeeze on his hand.

“I don’t know, I just used to have this crush on a boy when I was younger and I was confused because I only ever saw heterosexual couples, you know?” You nodded and that reassuring smile on your face never seemed to falter even a little bit, you looked almost proud of him.

“And then I got older and I started liking women too and I was even more confused because like who exactly do I like now?”

Sometimes during meetings in the briefing room or on the jet, you randomly held hands and squeezed them three time as a reminder that you loved each other without having to actually say it and that’s what you did during the brief amount of silence.

“When I was in high school liking boys was always associated with something bad so I just assumed that it was bad and tried my hardest to just suppress it.”

Spencer squeezed your hand three times too and took a deep breath. Seemed that even a genius like him could miscalculate and in this case it was the toll this secret had on him.

“But then I got older and realized that there was nothing wrong with being attracted to the same sex, and so I kind of accepted it even though I still had no idea what my sexuality was. It was just one of those I’ll deal with it later type of things.”

When he looked into your eyes again, you looked at him with so much tenderness that he felt as if his heart might burst out of his chest, even if that was biologically impossible.

“I had a boyfriend when I was in college, his name was Ethan and I loved him but it just didn’t work out. I never told anyone because I was afraid I think?”

He remembered the time of sneaking around and lying to his mother when she spotted a hickey on his neck during one of her visits, the frustration because all he wanted was to show the world the love they shared like every other ordinary couple.

But he also remembered the clandestine meetings, muttered I love you’s that were for no one else to hear and the feeling of falling in love for the first time.

“And then I was confused again because I still liked women too and then I met you and I fell in love with you the second I laid eyes on you honestly and then I thought that maybe it was just like a non-sexual thing but I am sexually attracted to you, I mean we have sex. I like having sex with you!”

You chuckled but it was not out of malice or disgust it was just there, floating in the air filling his body with a warmth that not even his thickest sweater could provide.

“Baby, breathe. It’s just me.”

You brought his knuckles up to your mouth to press a kiss to each of them and that simple gesture managed to calm Spencer’s nerve immensely.

“You were so open with your sexuality and I guess it just kind of made sense? And I know that some women have problems with men who like men and maybe you’re disgusted with me because I used to be with a man and I’m like not the manliest man and and sometimes I think about painting my nails because it seems kind of fun and-”

The thing about Spencer’s rambling was that he couldn’t stop. He wanted to especially when he saw the annoyance on everyone’s faces but you were always there to listen to him, even if you had no idea what he was talking about but as you felt his anxiety worsen with every word that left his lips, you interrupted him for the first time ever.

“I’m not disgusted at all. I love and accept everything about you and that includes your sexuality. Thank you for being open with me, I know hard that can be with for you. I’m very proud of you.”

You emphasized your statement by pulling him in for a kiss and that was the first time that Spencer noticed that he was crying, but you kissed him with all the tenderness in the world, wordlessly wiping away the tear that rolled down his cheek.

“You’re the most perfect man I know. I don’t care if you’re not the most manliest man to me you’re perfect and the love of my life,” you whispered against his lips and Spencer could only reply by deepening the kiss and trying to get you as close to him as humanly possible.

There was no rush or expectations, you were kissing as if you had every time in the world and the kiss was a silent promise that you still loved him no matter what.

And for the first time in what felt like ages, Spencer could finally breathe. Silence filled the room but it wasn’t uncomfortable by any means. You had placed Spencer’s head on your chest and played with his hair while occasionally peppering him with kisses, only a few reassurances and I love you’s accompanying the stirring DVD player.

“Did you mean what you said about wanting to paint your nails?” you asked after a few minutes passed and Spencer had wrapped his arms around your waist as if you were the anchor to a sinking ship.

Spencer chuckled not even remembering what he said during his ramble. “I guess so. Why?”

The thought did cross his mind from time to time, especially when he saw your impressive collection of various nail polish. He never cared much about other’s perception of his masculinity and Spencer realized that his fair of not being manly enough for you was nothing but utterly stupid.

“Do you want me to do it?”

He shyly nodded and a smile filled your face as you took his hand to examine it, probably debating in your head which colour would fit him most.

And as you left the room to search for the most beautiful purple you could find, Spencer sat in the living room, happiness spreading through every fiber of his being because for the first time he knew what it felt like to be unconditionally loved.

Both of you weren’t perfect but there were no more secrets left lurking in the shadows and he knew that as long as you wanted him, he’d always be yours.

You were the first person to truly accept and love him. All of him, and he never wanted to lose that.

As he sat in the living room, you sitting on his lap and looked at your fingers as you painted his in a dark shade of purple, he decided that it wouldn’t be long until the most beautiful ring he could find would adorn your ring finger.

[jean-does-not-have-a-horseface]

Hello, Hello, would you mind to write a scenario for Levi Ackerman with a female s/o were they have a argument and Levi accidently hurts her physical in some way?

Thank you very much and please be careful 💚

Okay, hello, I have been working on this for a HOT minute and this is the only way I thought this could go (because Levs would never ever ever ever hurt his s/o, poor man has seen his mother being violated so much too pls-) tell me if you like it, I'd be glad to know if you're satisfied with how it went.

Pairing: Levi/ Reader

Tags: Action, Somewhat!Fluff,

Warnings: Mentions of blood, gunshots, wounds you know, typical snk stuff

Bullet

Crimson liquid run in gushes from the wound in your shoulder splattering your whole body and your surroundings. The pain was immense and torturous and reeked of the adrenaline that your body was trying to produce, all on vain to soothe the uneasiness, as with every passing second the hot rushes of blood that flew to the spot put your mind in a burgundy haze. Your left hand was trembling, your body was still in shock by the hit and your necessary intakes of oxygen had long surpassed the normal rate by now but you weren't in a position to slow down.

The odds had been against you ever since you decided to follow Levi and not lead the infamous cadets of the 104th squadron.

It was the silent clicking of a gun that had caught your attention as you discussed how much of an ambush this whole situation seemed with Nifa and Levi. You almost perked at the spot, a fragment of a second faster than Levi, buying yourself enough time to jump into the most unthinkable situation; getting Levi out of this commotion safe and unwounded, you'd take the incoming shot for the stoic captain to stay alive.

The bullet had blown just through your shoulder with enough force to send you flying to the ground, meters away from the hotspot of action. As you heard Levi's voice screaming an earth shattering call of Kenny Ackerman's name you pushed through the pain that has shaken your body to the core and shot your drills to the nearest building. Your heart was beating fast, eyes rapidly checking in all directions to examine your surroundings while the pulsating of your shoulder begged with you to take action on it's recovery.

Only ever when you made sure your surroundings were clear of armed soldiers did your feet drag you outside the dark alleyway. Pushing through the intense pain you managed to shoot the drills of your gear onto a empty rooftop, trying your best to evenly distribute your weight on the equipment. One mistake and you could easily be wiped out.

Therefore you settled for sneaking carefully in between dark alleys as gunshot sounds ravaged your eardrums; It was definitely Levi who was taking all that fire on his own, sending your heart to an uncatchable pace as the blood that pulsated in every inch of your body would manage to find an exit through the wound on your shoulder.

As the blasts kept getting unbearably closer by each passing second you glued yourself to the stone wall and ducked down, to protect any part of you in order to see for yourself if Levi was indeed the target of this manhunt.

Your speculations were correct.

Upon him passing by -incredibly fast- your eyes met his for a brief moment, forcing a shocked hitch to leave his lips as his eyes widened. His expression, dark, anxious, as if he had just seen a ghost and refused to believe it.

The state of your well being was still unbeknownst to you; you hadn't even taken a chance to see how drenched in blood your clothes were.

With another fast shoot of your quills and a press to your gas' handle you landed on another rooftop, far behind from the horde of men that had all their attention on Levi.

Everything went quiet for a moment. Sheer tranquility masked the air. The fire of action seemed to have been out off momentarily, yet you don't have an eye sight of the situation. You couldn't seem to slow down your breathing not even for one second, your alert eyes repeatedly scanned the areas around you to detect any suspicious move.

Despite the unfair odds and your position you had managed to successfully locate the cart with Eren and Historia, only to come face to face with the commotion that had occured. Hange's men were taken one by one, this time in your comrade's place sat a wide eyed brunette who screamed at the horses to go faster.

The sound of shooting thundered in waves around the town, startling you, urging you to jump into action. The wagon couldn't by any means, slip away from you or your team.

You tapped against your right gas canulle, begging for the sound to signal that it was halfway full at least. The left one was busted from your previous impact against the cold stone buildings, still you were sure you could push through with as much as you had, even if it seemed deadly enough to get you killed.

The cadets were startled as the saw you as they proceeded to bombard you with questions about your condition to which you could barely reply with full sentences. Slowly your body was giving in to your injury, to a point where you couldn't ignore it. Still, you bothered with how much more you could take.

"The hell is that!" Jean inquired, eyes pacing between the gory scene unraveling before him, and you, still troubling himself with taking in what he was witnessing.

Levi flew hurriedly flew by, pumping his gas one before launching his drill to an armed man's abdomen. His face hardened as the men was dragged to him, hands already gripping his blades steadily.

He went straight for the kill. Blood cluttered everywhere around him, staining any nearby surface.

Everyone's faces went numb as frozen droplets of sweat run down their foreheads. Naturally, in your shocked state you failed to provide any comfort to them, even if their despairate eyes were begging you to.

"Follow the wagon!" Levi commanded, his breath hitching in his throat as he sat still, despairate to take a momentarily rest.

"Right!" Mikasa complied sternly.

"Listen up, these soldiers were trained to fight other people, they've already take up three of ours," restlessly, Levi flew to lead the team, launching himself alongside of you, but still not sparing you a glance. "If you hesitate for so much as a second you'll be dead. The moment you see an opening go for the kill!"

"Yes sir!" Once again the ravenette in a stone cold tone confirmed her Captain's orders were well understood, forcing a gulp to flow down everyone's throat.

"And you, (y/n)!" This time his eyes were intensely burning dark holes in yours. "You stay back and lay low, this is an order!" You watched as he gulped, taking a moment to breathe through his nose in an attempt to calm himself down. "And don't ever think about taking a bullet for me, ever again."

Despite the gallons of blood lost and the tremendous pain you managed to find the spitfire in you to reply, eyes wide with rage at his last comment.

"Sir, with all due respect, I'm fine with laying low, but-"

"No time for you to form your own rebellion over my words, lay low or you're getting killed. You've made yourself the easiest target!" His words dripped of poison, unnerving anger that did nothing to convey his worry, making your head blur with similar rage.

You refused to believe that the first thing he would try to converse with you on the subject would actually turn out to be a scolding session. As if you were an imbecile child. As if you hadn't tried to push through to keep offering your abilities to your cause.

"Kenny would have shot you right then and there! What did you expect me to do?" You screamed. Your lungs burned with every command to withstand the pressure. Hot blood found its way through the hole in your arm again.

"No he wouldn't. We don't have time for this, Lay low!"

Levi's tone was sharp as a knife slicing your flesh like soft butter, somewhat hurting you more that the small piece of metal in your body. "You can't handle yourself like I can at the moment." It was rare they the two of you would bicker like this, and there was so much you could handle with an oozing wound, barking at him seemed to be the way to get your point at him.

"You're unbelievable," you squealed "I just saved your life and you're downgrading me?"

"Don't put words in my mouth, you know what I mean."

"Oh, do I now?" You mocked.

"No one else dies on my watch and you can't fight, so out of our way!"

Levi launched himself into a tent, backflipping his way through another kill. You hated to admit that he was right; you couldn't even make it to a few kills with the remaining of your gas yet the adrenaline in your body was raging against every plead of you to stay behind.

"You can't keep me out of action!" You barked, eyes glimmering with stubbornness as you followed the team's lead to the wagon. Jean was the first to land with Armin, throwing the brunette soldier way from her spot. You didn't seem to pay enough attention to your surroundings, the clicking of a gun behind you fell deaf to your ears.

"I told you (y/n) we don't have tim- watch out!" Levi's eyes widened in terror at the sight of the armed man towering behind you. Shaking hands that still held his blades reached out fast, boldly enough to launch onto the collar of your shirt, bringing your form onto him, only for your nose to harshly collide with the steel handle of his blade in the process. In turn you were thrown harshly onto a nearby tent.

A moment later his blades had slashed through the man while a rage filled scream muffled your ears.

"Armin Secure the wagon with Jean! We'll keep you covered!"

At trying to catch up in the commotion on the wagon, he witnessed in agony as Jean gulped, a gun nearly pressed to his head. Mikasa called out his name, launching her blades and spinning in the air. If it wasn't for Armin to ruthlessly pull the trigger to send the brunette to her instant death, she would have been too late to save her comrade. Levi clicked his tongue in misery. This was getting worse by each passing second.

"Armin! Jean!"

You laid on the tent, left hand scrunched against your bloody nose as you tried not to move. There were still armed men everywhere, if they detected you were alive you were done for. With half lid eyes you watched the scene unfold in front of you.

Three more men had towered behind Levi and the cadets, pointing their guns on them. Levi and Sasha jumped to the scene, shoving their comrades out of the wagon. The had successfully missed the fire of the shots for short seconds. As a sigh of relief left you your right eye lost focus. Your head felt dizzy, heavy at the numbing pain that shoot from your whole body. As the effects of adrenaline slowly wore off your body started to give in, eyes battling an already lost fight to stay open.

The last thing you heard was Levi calling out your name.

__

Your eyes painfully shot open.

The top of your mouth felt dry. You couldn't swallow. A strong metallic taste adorned the tips of your tongue. In a panicked state your eyes were blinking rapidly at the darkness around you, alternating gazes between the group of people a few meters away from you and the flickering light of the fire.

In contrary to your body, your head felt feathery light as numbness toyed on your brain, taking forms of a thousand little ants stomping each cavity they could find.

"Ah, Captain she's awake!"

Your body couldn't move and your mind couldn't think, yet Connie's words rang a few bells that alerted you. After what seemed like an eon later, a flick switched in your brain, widening your eyes upon hitting you with the most profane realisation.

"It's probably the morphine shot that has you numb like this. I took care of that bullet in your arm and I fixed your nose."

Your eyes bored into Levi's steel ones, unintentional apathy splattered all your face. You couldn't help but stop your bruised lips from forming to a small pout; as your coincidence flowed withing your body with every passing of the time you were reminded of the heated exchange of words you and your lover had shared before your body gave in.

Levi's eyes softened as he watched your face fall into an angered expression. A sigh of relief escaped him as his hand extended to your direction, calloused fingers lingering on the thin locks on your forehead.

"Shit" he groaned through gritted teeth "Fuck, I'm so sorry (y/n), you know I didn't mean to break your nose right? Given the situation I knew you'd land safely on the tent, I just had to get you out of there"

His eyes were sincere, flickering with agony as his hand rested behind your ear. The look on his face was enough to make you melt, to give in to whatever he ever said, you couldn't deny that much.

"I know how devoted you are, you could have taken that bullet for anyone not just for me, that's who you are." Another sigh escaped him, this time sneaking profoundly out his trembling chest.

"Y-you don't have to s-struggle with your-r words. You were right-t. I shouldn't have pushed my self with such little gas while losing so much blood." You coughed. Essential sentences were spilling out of your mouth. You knew when to step back into your place, especially in arguments that you were on the wrong. Levi had been right from the beginning, but you had pushed forward, worked yourself to the limit.

"Tch, I would never intentionally hurt you, you know that much right? I didn't mean to cause you more pain-"

"Levi, my love," As you laid on your back you watched the fire in his eyes cool down at sound of the endearing pet name. His chest stopped taking sharp stressed breaths and his hand started rubbing soothing circles at the nape of your neck. "You don't have to apologise, please. I was on the wrong. If anything, you saved me from being fatally shot. You shoved Jean away as well."

Levi's antics were nothing strange to you. You had spent years by his side, training as a part of his team, fighting alongside him. The way he cared for his comrades was unmatched, unable to be mimicked. You knew of his tragic past, so him acting compulsively like that wasn't something you wouldn't have expected. You weren't mad that you had gotten hurt in the process of him ripping you away from deaths grip.

The only thing that had ever made you mad was that, momentarily he wasn't willing to approve of your sacrifice to him.

"I threw you like shack of shit, I don't deserve you going soft on me. I should have not downgraded you."

Your eyes shut, lips curling upwards onto a tiny smirk, one that lifted Levi's spirits just a bit. "I'll stop being so hotheaded." You managed to admit, letting a chuckle escape your lips. Rarely you could stop yourself from giggling when you'd make up with the man.

"Brat! Don't laugh when we're having a serious conversation!" His eyes hardened, voice full of affectionate authority. You were so eager to brush off the subject of him guilt tripping himself, to lift the weight off his shoulders.

The weak bubbling laughter that escaped you after was contagious and never ending. It felt as little, continuous jolts of static electricity shocking your body as each exhale, but it was unstoppable, not even for you to answer properly back to him. The effect of the tranquilizing shot was perfect on it's part as well.

"I-it's just that i- love you. That's all. You've always got a spot on poo comment about everything."

Levi's head lowered in defeat, his nose leaving out an amused whip of air in the process. As you watched him, you felt a familiar warmth numb its way through your body from your stomach and outwards. Perhaps, this time he didn't want you to assume what he would say. Perhaps he was still guilt tripping himself or perhaps your laughter was getting through him at a moment he had to be stern. Nevertheless you never missed the words that felt his lips, before he went to quickly brush then against yours.

"I won't be as hotheaded as well, I promise. I'd take a thousand bullets for you I hope you know that."

[celestialgaea]

write a fic(nsfw or sfw its up to you) with Ezio and a teenage girl who fell in love with him(i’d want it nsfw if you’re fine with it)

I'd love to do that! It has been quite some time since I wrote a request, so i’m so excited! Enjoy :)

Pairings: Brotherhood!Ezio Auditore x Reader

Warnings: Mature content, smut, age gap

Disclaimer: Ezio is at the age of 45 at the beginning of the Brotherhood serie as the reader will be the age of 19, so if you are uncomfortable with age gaps then i’d advice you to scroll further. It is not wrong to have feelings for an older man, however, it is wrong if an older person would use it to manipulate you and hurt you intentionally. This was written for the mere entertainment of the AC fandom!

A/N: I am so sorry for letting the requester wait for weeks! I hate to keep people waiting, I swear. But I have been able to finish this piece and I'm so happy! Let it enjoy you, loves

Along the horizon a blemish of darkness formed and began to spread itself along the, what seemed, infinite edges of the earth. The orange sky set her intentions to flee and slowly vanished, causing the natural state of the heaven’s to occur right in front of your eyes. It felt lonely yet so calming.

‘You seem so dazed by the upcoming nightsky, mia signora.’ The grumbling undertone of Ezio’s voice was vibrating inside of his chest and could be felt against your back. It was as though the vibration was spreading from his breast towards your lower abdomen as a warm and tingling flow. 'It's just beautiful.' You said.

'Just beautiful?' You didn't need to face him to know that he'd raised an eyebrow saying that. It was a very typical gesture Ezio always made, even unknowingly, and that small signal was just enough for him to add a subtle layer of promiscuity to himself. Ezio simply wouldn't be 'Ezio' without a touch of promiscuity. That was the secret to his unexplainable aura that made you taste life whenever you were in his prescence and yet all the flavour would get drained from your tongue if he'd leave, as if the gate's of heaven closed abruptly in front of your eyes as his back was turned towards you. He carried temptation and desire with him, to wherever he goes, and even makes the strictly chaste women beg him for a brush against their thigh, an intense look from his smouldering eyes, a hot and lingering breath against their open mouth.

'Yes, just beautiful, Ezio.'

'And what makes it beautiful, bambini?'

'The calm and enigmatic scenery. It's dark and unknown, and yet it's the most intruiging thing i've ever observed. Reminds a bit of you, just a little bit.' Small spots of flaming skin freckled the whole width of your face and there would be no point in turning the other cheek as Ezio's overtowering head already noticed your reddish feature underneath his gaze. He emitted a breathless laugh, a grumbling grin. There was a tendency that whispered in Ezio's ear. This tendency told him to make a teasing remark about your blushing skin. It would've subconciously stretch out his ego, add a bit of empowerment to his pride knowing that even at the ripe age of 45 he'd still be able to make the early flourished flower allow her sweet nectar to be tasted by him, just a small taste of enlightening in return for enlightment.

'And, again, what makes me a bit like that?' Ezio asked, repeating to raise one eyebrow. You stayed quiet, not knowing what to say, and just kept listening to the constant rips and breaks of small twigs and dried up leaves getting crushed underneath the horse's hooves. 'Am I really that closed, huh? I thought the whole of Italia knew about my reputation from waltzing to one flower to the other.' He released a breathless laugh again. 'Yes, they do. But that is because it's the only part of you they see,' You paused to subtly sniff up the drippling liquid that ran down your left nostril just in time before it reached the open door to your philtrum. 'Truly, you are an open book, but written in a cryptic language.' It was troublesome to hide the breath-heaving excitement that hugged your chest tightly as Ezio's body rubbed itself against yours with every gallop and bumpy cantering the horse made. Wether it be his upper thighs softly caressing the backside of your thighs or the warmth of his sweaty robes clinging itself onto your back, it was enough for your mind to wander towards more bare skin.

'Bambini, there are more parts of me that they have seen. And besides, you are still too young to be putting your nose inside of my younger years.' You grinned softly. 'I don't find you that old.' 'Oh?' 'How old are you? 40?' You asked. 'I wish,' Ezio said, almost daydreaming. 'But alas, I am forty-five.' 'forty-five sounds...' 'Old? Don't be shy, mia signora, I won't bite.' The soft rumbly undertone of his voice was melodic. His talk was never mundane.

'Forty-five sounds ripe.' If you were able , or rather, if you dared to face Ezio you knew that he would be taken aback. You continued. 'A perfect age where experience, wisdom and vigor is combined. Well, it depends on the individual, but you have the right combination; You have a lot of vigor,' His arms slightly embraced you tighter. 'You have experience,' He tugged onto the reigns, expertly, causing the fleshy stallion to prance, exposing the strenght and beautiful anatomy of the animal. 'And wisdom.' And he stood halt in front of his mansion. The mansion where he inhabited the role of mentor, brother, son and lover.

'I feel honored, truly. You may be young, (Y/N), but your mind is beyond your years. I have a friend whom you may like to talk to. Nicollo Machiavelli. Do you know him?' You shook your head. 'I have never heard of messere Machiavelli.' 'Understandable,' Ezio handed the reigns over to the stable boy, a meager young man whose hands had more capacity than his head.

The night might have brought a serenity with her for those whom were able to seek it, but for you there was none to find. The only presence that kept you company, sadly enough, was a bird who kept on singing its weeping lullaby. You just wanted Ezio to be here in this guest room, only him and you. It musn't be moans and brushes and kisses and touches, that enigmatic warmth and intimidation that was present around him was more than enough. How you would've regretted it to wake up the next morning, if you had found the will to sleep, only for this place to be without any trace of Ezio's presence.

An onimous silence brooded. Ezio couldn't be asleep, not yet. And you knew that well enough. You had silent hopes on Ezio coming through your door when you took a porcelain oil lamp holder in your hands and hesitatingly threw it onto the floor. The split second of the oil lamp holder being afflicted by deepend cuts that spread itself rapidly all over the object until it shattered into a mess of piercing shrieks made you shiver as the next second was overflowed by the complete silence of the night. It took less than a minute when you heard heavy stomping coming nearer and nearer. The door opened and exposed Ezio, whose chest was heaving and sighs were heavy, in only his loosened chemise and -Oh, how daring- open breeches. He locked eyes with you before turning his gaze towards the sharp mess on the floor.

'(Y/N), oh dolce madre di Gesù. What did you do now, kid. You could've hurt yourself.' Kid. His vague thinking had spat out the truth of how he truly perceived you. A child. A naïve and stupid child.

'I'm sorry, I just wanted to write but I accidently pushed the lamp holder away with my arm.' You bit the inside of your cheek as you tried to hide the dispair that one word brought you.

Kid

'Well, don't let me interrupt your writing, then. And don't you make me worry like that again, understood? My old man's heart can't take that.' He grinned at his own words before silence took a hold again; for him it was a sign to walk away and so he did. He walked out, but you (Oh, you!) couldn't help but stay nailed to the ground, your eyes following the trails of wrinkles on the back of his chemise.

'Besides,' You said hesitantly, breaking the silence and breaking his steps. Ezio was not far from the door before heading back to you, awaiting your words at your door frame. He stood there and it was real. This all was real. You called him and now you were obliged to continue.

'I am not a kid. I am nineteen. I am an adult.' Ezio smiled -unknown if it was to laugh at you or to have pity on you-. soft rimples adorned the sides of his eyes. You had no idea of what to expect from him. And weird enough, Ezio came closer. 'I know. But you're still so naïve. Do not feel embaressed for being called a kid. Actually, forgive me, I should not have called you such. You are much more mature than a kid,' You didn't know how to respond, so you just nodded your head in acknowledgement, your lips curling into a faint smile.

'But do I look like a young girl? And I mean, like, a kid girl.' Ezio squinted his eyes faintly and his face was slightly angled to the side, mildly questioning you.

'In what context?'

'Physical appearances.' He couldn't help but laugh quietly, shaking his head. '(Y/N), Ragazza, Yes you look like a young girl, but not a kid,' Ezio paused in his words. And you couldn't help but stray your eyes away from his dilated pupils to the curvy pathway of thick eyelashes that hung like curtains underneath his bottom eyelids. 'Your skin is youthful and supple, your eyes look dull but they are filled with life. Why wouldn't you want these features while you still have them?' For some reason you couldn't fixate yourself on his words. At that moment you felt intoxicated by the subject and wanted to take it a step further. You yearned to fall into his arms for no reason but to feel him. If it was possible, you would've clung your body onto his. You weren't even able to process his words, your mind was to busy wandering towards sensing Ezio to the fullest.

'No. No, no, no,' You shook your head with every word, saying them vaguely and you felt like whining for comprehension. 'Not my skin nor my eyes nor my hair nor my ears. I meant my body. Does my body look mature?' Ezio's eyes seemed to hesitate, trembling, as if he feared to break an oath of chastity. He bit onto the soft tissue inside of his cheek, knowing that your gown was fairly see through; such was exposed by the protrusion of your soft nipples.

'You're wearing a loose nightgown so it's difficult for me to judge. Still I cannot judge from the formal dresses you wear, that would be perverse, (Y/N), you know that.' How willing you were to get an answer out of him. Just a comment on your hips or your soft breasts or the faint curvature from your elegant ankle. Nothing more. Allowing him to whisper it to your curves, letting the words embrace its soft skin.

You tugged onto the collar of your nightgown to push it down your shoulders. Ezio kept silent, unable to predict your actions, and yet, somehow, he was in awe. The cotton night dress slipped down from your body and the unexpected exposure of wind seared your skin. You noticed how he tried to quietly cover his breeches with his chemise. It brought you a sense of victory, knowing that his breath was unstable as he fought against his desire to hold you, to warm you, to love you. He nearly seemed frozen.

'(Y/N)...' Ezio pierced your eyes with an intensity of his. You took hold of his hand and unsurely cupped them around your breasts, insecure of his big hands not being delighted by the size -How silly it might've sounded to him-.

'Is my body mature? Please, Ezio, don't keep your thoughts to yourself.' You had to laugh while saying that, you didn't know wether it was to laugh away the scorching silence or your own slight embaressment of your impusliveness.

Ezio held the soft flesh underneath your breasts and tenderly touched them, sometimes his thumb caressed your nipples before replacing it with the soft touches of his incinerating breath and hunry lips. This feeling was new to you, new but welcoming. A heavy intoxication of his bodily warmth seared your skin, your veins, your blooming flower. Your womanhood was singing with passion, begging for him to make it reach her sweet melodious notes like the upper string of a lute. Ezio's lips traced across your collarbone and planting soft kisses with tenderness up to your neck. You instinctively opened your mouth for only a melodious heavy breath that whispered to Ezio for more.

'Your body is so mature, from your beautiful breast,' His handpalm enveloped your private part, slightly squeezing it before pressing two fingers against your humid crease and clit. 'To the carnal lust that hides inside of your fullgrown womanhood.' He whispered against the beginning of your cheekbone. With tender kisses he drew from your cheek to your lips, reddened and plumped by arousal. He sucked onto your bottom lip before taking all of you in. The meatiness from the kiss moved waves of heavily emotions inside of you. Before you'd know it you had your tongue caressing his. Ezio smothered a groan in your mouth. He tasted of wine, tons of glasses to drown the loneliness and create the illusion of a company that was just the two-sidedness of his tipsy subconciousness. His shirt was pulled over his head with an impatient tremble and you know how he slowly came to implode by all of the sensory goodness.

He carried you onto the bed. Ezio's body was fit for his age; broad, muscled an yet soft, but not that soft. His hands wandered towards the rim of his breeches to pull them of, but he came to a halt, leaking the trimmed hairs that led to his manhood. A realistion had hit him.

'Bella,' He spoke. 'You're a virgin, true? Pardon me if I'm incorrect.' You nibbled on your lip. 'Yes.' He hummed. The hum didn't seem one of desire nor out of regret. 'I don't want to put myself on display immediately because that would make you uncomfortable as it is your first time.' A warm sensation formed in your heart. He cared. He truly cared. It made you trust him even more and you were sure he wouldn't hurt you, not at all. His mouth opened, wanting to speak further.

'When was the last time you had your menstrual cycle?' He asked. You let out a breath as you thought about it. 'More than two weeks ago, why?' Oh, how limited your sexual knowledge was and how you were ashamed of it. 'To make sure you won't carry my child.'

Ezio came onto the bed to hover you. 'I'll make sure you never want to share the bed with no other man except for me.' He whispered. Ezio flowered blooming kisses onto your neck as his hand began playing with a single breast, giving love and affection to it. You expected the soft trails of his fingers to set its odyssey towards your womanhood, but he stopped, resting the palm of his hand onto your lower stomach. 'Calm down, bella, you are way to tense.' You didn't even realise how the muscles in your neck had moved against his mouth the lower his hand went or how your eyes counted every indivual speck of grayed out plasterwork that was spreaded across the ceiling as a way to escape the anxiety of the moment.

'I'm sorry,' You said with a breathless grin, trying to laugh away the strain that was poured upon your shoulders.

Ezio's fingers slowly slid down your stomach towards your womanhood as he murmered against you neck how it was okay to feel frightened by the idea of a man seeing her so bare and vulnerable. The first touch against your clitoris, so careful and feathery, had the small and swollen pearl craving for more of the sensational ecstacy. He began playing with it; rubbing, turning, licking and sucking. The closeness and scorching warmth of his mouth against your private part was as loving as it was undressing you from your shame. How you were so riled up that even the most repulsive persons could be seen as appealing if they'd stood in front of you as Ezio was making the tension inside of your folds build up. The warmth of his humid tongue against such an intimiate place felt unexplainable good, so good even, both to you as to him, that glistening streaks of Ezio's salive rolled down your fold onto the white bedsheets.

You gripped Ezio's hair. Your pelvis was raised and back was arched as you felt the sweetness of the upper snare of a lute being played on your womanhood. Your mouth opened and a long lasting moan emitted from deep down your throat as the shuddering sensation overwhelmed you.

Ezio's lips curled into a smirk. 'We are not done yet, ragazza,' He said mischievously. 'But firstly I will need to break your hymen, so it'll be easier for me to enter you.' And there was that small speck of anxiousness again, slowly growing. The flushed colour withdrew itself from your face. 'How will you do that?' You asked with a hint of concern in your voice. Ezio's body hovered yours again and he began sucking your neck with the moist of his mouth. '(Y/N),' he whispered against your skin. '(Y/N),' He whispered again. And again. And again. Ezio massaged your jaw with his hands and locked eyes with you. 'I will enter you with two of my fingers so your vagina will get used to penetration, then i'll slowly go in deeper until it will be a tad easier to enter you.' 'Will it hurt?' You asked, unsurely. 'It can feel a little bit uncomfortable, but not painful.' You gave an understanding nod. 'Do you feel ready, (Y/N)?' And You nodded again.

Ezio's torso embraced the side of your body as his lips found their way to the sweet spot at the end of your jaw and let it be overwhelmed by the humid heat of his mouth. You were pushed back on the crooked duvet with the utmost tenderness of his hand and you could feel how alive his erection was as it slightly sunk into the flesh of your thigh. Ticklish strokes were made by his fingers whom were slowly removed from the rounds of your breast to set its journey to bring itself in between your thighs. He opened them, slowly, and as soon as your womanhood was fully unveiled in front for his eyes -again- his warm hand squeezed your inner thigh before immediately cupping your bush.

Ezio's kisses kept growing onto your neck and breast as his other arm had been slithered underneath your back to embrace it, pushing your side closer against the heat of his body. Both his middle and index finger began to move across your slit, and he did that a few times, and then he twirled his fingers against your hot and naked flesh to cover them with your natural wetness. The sweetness of his kisses began to vanish as you were focusing more on the interaction of time and the distance of his fingers that slowly began to emerge into one puddle of subconscious fear and confusion -which you covered by an arbirtrary and unspontanious grin-. Ezio placed the tip of his fingers against your opening and slowly wiggled them not even half an inch inside of you. He looked at you. 'Are you hurt?' You shook your head, scared that an emitted word from your throat would ruin the state of false, but striking, serenity you were able to put yourself in. Ezio slowly pushed in deeper and wiggled his fingers slightly before taking them back to the beginning of your openening, but not out, to cover it with more lube that was the most present at your crease. And so he did that again and again until the feeling of pinched and uncomfortable skin had passed and his fingers had an open way towards the unknown depths of your body.

Ezio let his fingers return to the fresh air and kissed you passionatly on your lips. 'Good girl.' He whispered against them. And that was when it happened. Ezio stood up from the bed and began opening his breeches, the profits of plundered money slid down his toned legs and he pushed the trousers at his ankles of with his feet.

It was intimidating and...surreal. You had seen penisses before, but on statues which were a state of purity and modesty, but this. You were doubting if he was able to fit as the comparison of size between his fingers and his manhood was draconian. It stood erect and a few droplets of precum shone on top of his glans.

Ezio hovered you and his stubble tickled the skin around your mouth as he kissed you. His breath came in heavy and irregular parts through his nose and brushed your top lip as his hands had pressed you against his body. His erection was pressed against your body. Ezio gripped your inner thigh to place it over his back and you could see how his eyes were in a half open state of intoxication, his mouth -also- half open and forming a faint grimace. He took his penis in his hand and guided it towards your entrance and slowly put it inside of you, just a little bit. He used the same method as he did with his fingers until the uncomfortable pushes had vanished and he was able to enter you fully.

You felt filled, literally. At first, the slow thrusts were numb until your wetness had come much quicker and in a bigger amount which made the thrusts more rapid, rougher and painless. Ezio's mouth stood agape with soft grunts emitted from it.

And suddenly you felt it. A slow but emotionally overwhelming sensation of building up ecstacy was present the more he thrusted and the more the warmth and the nearness of his bare pelvis pushed against yours. You let yourself listen and observe the orders of your body and automatically widened your thighs for Ezio to thrust in deeper. He kept thrusting in, and with each thrust you gripped his thigh, underneath the fold of his buttocks, and tried to push him in deeper as the building up sensation became sweeter and sweeter and the private parts began to throb agressively. You felt that you were almost there and so did Ezio.

You arched your head back and the sweet sensation of Ezio's scorching body against yours, his lenght filling you and his face burried in your neck overwhelm you. You thought your womanhood was about to burst as so much power and energy came from it and you kept squeezing your eyes until Ezio's grunts vanished in your neck with the warm seed that had been spilled inside of you.

All of this was intense. Unbelievable even. You were in bed with an infamous murderer, the blood of tens and hundreds of people sticking in between his fingers and dried onto his armour, and yet he was naked and vulnerable and tired in your embrace. A man in his forties skin on skin with a sensitive youth. Both committed and so alive. You wondered if more days like this were going to come or if that would be an illusion for the pleasure of your mind and that this was just the only time Ezio was able to give in to your sensuality. But for the moment you didn't care. You were both naked, satisfied and intoxicated.

[itsonlydana]

Together ➷ Eret

pairing: Eret x Reader (gn) (PLATONIC) mentioned: Wilbur x Reader (open for interpretation)

summary: After hearing about Wills revival you don´t know what to do, your past seems to be catching up to you again and you find yourself seeking the comfort of your best friend

tags/warnings: signs of ptsd, panic attacks; they/them pronouns for Eret, hurt&comfort

words: 3010

a/n: good morning my loves! This was one of my first works with Eret and I´m kinda proud! I hope you enjoy it as well! I´m also working on another one rn.. maybe there will be some love between royals..

For the fact that it was supposed to be spring, the nights felt just as cold as they did in winter, you thought to yourself as you rubbed your hands over your bare arms as a cool breeze brushed past you, making you shiver. You knew you should have brought a jacket, it wasn't summer after all, and yet you had hastily left the house in your sleeping clothes.

The thin fabric of your pants blew around your ankles as you stepped out of the museum's protection of the harsh wind, left the steps and stepped onto the grass wet with dew. You had no real destination, the main goal was to get away from your tiny house, which - as hard as you tried - didn't feel like home, away from your bed, from which you had been woken up startled, your hands clawing into the sheets, and away from the cramped feeling you felt there.

You wandered over the hills, past the now dark Party Island, until the meadow became more uneven, the ground more broken, and despite the rocks and piles of earth lying around, you found your way safely to L'Manburg.

Or what it once was. How many times had you woken up from nightmares, left the house on the outskirts of town in a hurry and run here, only to find again and again that this was real; not one of your nightmares.

Carefully you slid down a small slope, sneakers sliding over freshly grown grass, to the ruined grayish earth close to the glassy floor where nothing could probably ever grow again. Your footsteps kicked a row of pebbles lose, interspersed with individual chunks of what once was, and you winced as the stones fell clacking onto the glass where they skidded to the center.

The sounds cut through the uncomfortable silence of the night, reminding you of the loud explosions that had thundered across the same quiet night sky not so long ago, heard by every resident, present or not, by every animal that had avoided the crater ever since, making it seem all the more lifeless, and they must have been heard by the gods, for the weeks that followed, the sky had wept, mixing the ashes together and extinguishing the fires around the destroyed homes.

You swallowed the memories with a bitter aftertaste, and climbed into the small, also shattered former cave in one of the hills by the crater. In recent days you found yourself here often, leaning against the wall, feet drawn up to your chest, lost in thoughts.

Sometimes you would just sit there for a moment, sometimes it would all become too much and you would flee to another place.

Sometimes you couldn't tear yourself away from the sight of the shrine for hours.

You would stare at the blue walls, illuminated by the warm light of the torches on them, trying to ignore the buttons and the TNT next to them and just lose yourself in the blue that reminded you of one of your most beautiful experiences.

Blue, like a very specific cornflower you had been given by Will months ago, after you had fled Schlatt's government like Niki, roaming the woods lonely, looking for help. The flower had been the only valuable thing in your possession for a long time, Schlatt had previously taken everything from you for his taxes, and although you no longer had anything to call your own, the flower had stood in the small vase beside your bed in Pogtopia, surviving despite the cold of the cave and the lack of sunlight.

By now, it had dried up, died and left nothing but blue stains on the stone next to the now strange bed in a now-abandoned cave.

Perhaps that was why you felt drawn to this place. The blue of the walls would always remind you of the attempt at a new life, the attempt to bring him back, and not of how he had left, abandoning everything and everyone, leaving you like a lonely cornflower in the dark.

The normally calming effect the shrine had on you was absent today. Instead, the wind whistled through the openings of the cracked stone, cold embraced you in the icy grip that a place of death had, and you buried your face in the crooks of your arms.

"Why Will, why did you have to give in? We could have helped you."

"I miss you."

Suddenly you heard a loud, strong flap of wings, then the dull thud of a person on the glass. You scrambled back to your feet, pressing yourself against the wall next to one of the openings, and saw all the beauty of Phil's dark wings, in whose shadow Fundy stood, arms folded in front of his chest, disheveled orange hair and bags under his tired eyes darker than yours.

You had heard about Fundy's sleeping problems, had actually intended to talk to the boy about it; after all, you were both literally haunted by the ghost of his father.

But now didn't seem to be the time.

The two spoke in hushed tones, voices so low that you felt bad to overhear the conversation, but the restraint in Phil's voice, the caution in which one spoke when delivering bad news, made you remain pressed against the rough wall.

What you hadn't counted on was Fundy's scream. So loud, so full of pain, anger, that you almost stumbled out of the hiding place to help the boy. Carefully, you peeked around the corner, just a tiny bit.

You immediately wished you hadn't.

"He should not be revived! You know what he's done?!" the boy screamed loudly into the night before slapping his hand over his mouth and falling to his knees. Phil was able to catch him just in time, the blond's arms wrapped around Fundy, holding him tightly to him.

Your legs gave in too, as you understood what the boy had been saying. Why Phil was having this serious conversation here with Fundy, out of all people.

Old wounds were torn open, making you feel pain like you had last felt months ago when leaving Pogtopia. You pressed one hand over your mouth, afraid your sobs would be heard by the two men outside, the other clawing harder into the stone behind you.

Will was back

"He was gone for 13 years- in his personal limbo."

That was all you needed or wanted to hear, you weren´t even sure you could hear more. Deafened, by your own heartbeat in your ears, blinded, by the tears you could no longer hold back, and accompanied by Fundy's ever audible screams, you stumbled down the small wooden staircase out of the narrowing cave and into the freezing air.

With your head full of thoughts, hammering against your skull, with no idea what to do, where to go, you walked over the prime path.

Will couldn't be back, you tried to revive him many times and nothing ever happened. Nothing happened, nothing could have happened, he was still Ghostbur.

This ghost, in his yellow sweater, in Will's sweater, whom you couldn't even look at, because you only saw Will's last smile in him before he had hugged you, breathed a soft kiss on your forehead, wished you good luck for the fight against Manburg.

Ghostbur, who was and wasn't Will at the same time. Who had looked at you with a sympathetic smile, trying to cover up that he didn't remember you when you first stumbled over him and Tommy, walking the same path you were on now.

Not knowing where you were going, you lifted your head, your eyes previously looked onto the oak path beneath your feet, letting out another sob when you saw the colorful lights, piercing through the dark sky.

And a minute later, you found yourself knocking with shaking hands on heavy dark doors, your arms around your torso, holding onto yourself as if life depended on it.

The doors were swung open and a level of golden light enveloped you.

"My love! What can I do for you? Please come in, you are trembling!" at the sound of Eret's warm deep voice, all the dams that had sustained you so far broke and your lower lip began to quiver. Your whole body trembled trying to hold back the tears but overwhelmed by the emotions, you collapsed- right into the arms of your best friend.

Although you must have surprised the young king with the nightly visit, Eret, despite the late hour, wearing the colorful crown on their brown curls and their dark red coat as if they had just come out of a meeting or council, their mirrored black glasses swirling with the reflection of the rainbow beacon lights outside, reacted very quickly to your collapse. Their arms pulled you out of the night into the warm interior of the castle, steadying you with one hand around your side and the other pressing the back of your head to their chest, they kicked the doors shut behind you with their black boots.

Unable to understand words or even whole sentences through your crying, Eret gave you time, even tho their head buzzed with questions.

Embraced in each other, you stood in the great reception hall of the castle, the empty rooms filled with the quiet sobs and Eret's whispering reassurances until the crying became deep breathing and your grip loosened around Eret's torso.

Gently, Eret lifted your tear-stained face, their puzzled and worried features legible despite the glasses. "What happened? Are you cold? Please tell me if you need anything?" they asked softly, brushing their thumbs over your flushed cheeks to wipe away the tears.

Without waiting for an answer, Eret slipped the red coat off their shoulders and wrapped you inside.

"Thank you Eret." you breathed, voice still rough. "Can we sit down, perhaps?"

You followed Eret down the long dark hallways where you and the young king had run around laughing -before the first war, dressed in two of the most beautiful dresses Eret owned, and previously made flower crowns in the hair.

That had to be almost a year ago now, too, you noted sadly, and saw up to Eret, who led you up the steps to one of their towers. Colorful clothes were exchanged with dark trousers and a gray shirt, the flower crown for one of real gold, heavy and studded with jewels that told a sad story.

A lukewarm breeze snapped you from hanging behind moments long past back to the present, where you stepped past Eret through the door they held open to the outside world.

The first time Eret had led you through the castle, past the rainbow windows that bathed each floor in a different light, past the many paintings on the walls, some of which showed Eret alone, but many of which showed them with their friends, and a few the gang in their old L'Manburg uniforms, and past the great gardens between the castle and the high walls, Eret had invited you to have a cup of tea on one of the towers, and since that day you both disappeared there whenever there was something important to talk about.

And as always, you sat down side by side, leaning against the battlements behind you, feet outstretched.

"What makes you come to me so agitated, darling? What couldn't wait until morning? Did you have your nightmare again?" asked Eret, putting their arm around your back.

You winced noticeably at the mention of your dreams, the memory alone causing you to slide closer to Eret until you were huddled thigh to thigh, shoulder to shoulder.

The reason for your sleep problems weren't multiple dreams, it was always just one and it haunted you every night.

In this dream you were standing in front of the podium, cheering with your friends to celebrate the victory against Schlatt. After that, the scene changed to the explosions below you that knocked you off your feet and created a huge crater between you and the former podium.

It always happened the same way, you clapped your hands, the clapping turned into the explosions, and then you slid into the black void as if in slow motion while watching Phil stab the diamond sword through Wills body. Afterward, you woke up in your bed, sweaty and with a silent scream on your dry lips, never thinking of sleeping any longer.

You shook your head, fingers playing with the edge of the warm coat, its flowery scent having a calming effect on you. "Not really. I mean, of course, I dreamed about it again, but I wouldn't bother you with that." Your words made Eret catch their breath and you quickly continued speaking before they could complain about how you would never bother "I went to his shrine, again. After the dream, I wanted certainty that he was really dead, that he was gone and that these stupid rituals were of no use. When I was there, Phil and Fundy suddenly came, both seemed very serious and I didn't want to eavesdrop, I promise. Phil had to tell Fundy something he'd heard from Ranboo, and-" another sob prevented you from speaking further, even as Eret hung on your lips, waiting anxiously. Your hands gripped the cloak tighter now, seeking support. You looked up at the sky, where the flag of the castle flew as if the courage to share your experience would fly to you from there

You were afraid to say it out loud. Things that you say come true, and there was no way you wanted it to be true. Did you?

The longer you stared at the sky, the brighter it seemed. No longer as dark as you had perceived it when you left the house. The clouds had moved away, giving way to shining stars in the bluish canopy.

"Will is back, he was brought back by Dream, in Tommy's attempt to kill Dream," you whispered.

Why did silence have to be so incredibly loud?

Even though neither of you spoke, the words had taken the air out of both of you, the silence was filled with Eret's deep breaths, your own gasping ones as panic grew steadily within you, the nervous tapping of the tips of your shoes against each other, but also with the soft neighing of the horses from the stables, the rushing and bubbling of the fountain in the garden; all signs that the world was spinning on, whether Will was a part of it or not.

A warm hand settled on yours fumbling at the coat, slender fingers slipping between yours, stopping you from playing at the one loose red thread with a sweeping tug to Eret's left leg. "Take a breath with me, love."

You did, following Eret's instructions, concentrating on the way your chest rose and fell steadily until the cool wind was warm, the sad colors around you cheerful again, and Eret's distant voice close.

The adrenaline rush, which had kept you awake until now, had kept you running across the area, disappeared, and you were caught up with repressed fatigue. Without you being able to control it, your head fell on Eret's shoulder. "What am I going to do now, Eret? If Will is really back, I will run into him sooner or later. The mention of him being alive again was enough to make me completely fold, I don't want to think about how I'll react to meeting him."

They took their time to think, to formulate their words, and you were hoping for some of their helpful advice. Instead, they said something unexpectedly dry: "Then that's that. If you let him control you like this, you will of course react as you just did, if not worse. Keep being weak, love, stop fighting it. But then you'll have to live with the consequences."

Eret made it very clear that the words were not meant to be hurtful, their thumb gently stroking the back of your hand, but they did nonetheless, and slightly miffed, you bit your lower lip, drawing your eyebrows together.

"But," Eret continued to speak "you can also stand against it, finally break away from him. You fought alongside him for the freedom of L'Manburg- he took you into Pogtopia. You went to war with Pogtopia against Manburg and Schlatt- and he left you behind. Nevertheless, you mourned him, but now he is alive again and will probably cross your path, so what? Show him how strong you are, don't give back in."

"It's hard to break away from him after all he did for me. He was there for me, saved me."

You slid closer to Eret, your head sliding from their shoulder against their chest, and you wrapped your arms around the young king.

"What will you do?" you asked, whispering the words against their gray shirt.

You felt Eret hold their breath.

How long had Eret tried to apologize to Will for the betrayal back then? How many times had they had nothing but insults thrown at them when they tried to make amends?

"I can't change what happened, I can't turn back time, as much as I would like to. But I can continue to fight for the people, to stand up for them. Maybe he will finally forgive me, give me a second chance and maybe he will apologize to you, who knows what life after death is like and what it does to you. We'll see what happens. Side by side. Hand in hand" in confirmation they squeezed your hand tighter, put their head on yours.

You held each other tightly until the sun spread its first rays, the darkness disappeared behind the mountains. A new day dawned, new chances, new possibilities, but you both feared the same old one.

Neither of you knew what was coming for you, whether it was good or bad.

The only thing helping you through this would be the other one.

No matter what.

[hyungieyoongi]

Choices: “Run Away to You” Part 5

“If we start this again, I’m not letting you go. Not this time.”

“Then don’t. Don’t let me go.”

Pairing: Min Yoongi x Former Actress!Reader

Word Count: 2.1K

Genre: Angst + FLUFFY FLUFF (it has been quite the buildup but we are HERE, folks!!!) 

Series Masterlist: Run Away to You

Premise: You ran away from your acting career one year ago, disappearing from the spotlight without a trace. No one from your past life knew where to find you. On the anniversary of your disappearance, your carefully constructed reality is shattered.

Part 4 // Part 6

---

Music blared in your headphones as you wandered around the unfamiliar apartment. Marianne had already dropped off your duffel bag of supplies for your temporary stay here; it was currently waiting to be unpacked, left in the first random bedroom you could find.  

Yoongi had come back to his studio after your talk with Marianne, a member of his team from the label following closely behind him. Because photographers were still swarming outside of your building, the label decided it would be best to put you in an apartment on their premises. While the number of cameras had certainly dwindled since that morning, it was best for you to stay hidden and to keep a low profile.

As Marianne and Yoongi’s staff discussed the details of getting a bag packed on your behalf, Yoongi quietly informed you that the apartment was in the same building as his and the rest of the band’s shared home–the unit the label owned was for staff and security detail who needed to stay close to the members.

You hoped that meant you would have a chance to talk to him again. The two-week time limit that Marianne gave you had already started to tick like a clock in your head.

For now, you were left alone to get settled into your new space with strict instructions to stay offline and only answer the phone for Marianne, Yoongi, or the label. You opened the fridge to grab a bottle of water, singing aloud to one of your favorite songs that had just started playing.

Someone snuck up behind you, but your music was too loud to hear them. You spun around, about to take a sip of water, and flinched, a hand flying to your chest to stop your heart from pounding in surprise at the sight of Yoongi standing in front of you.

“Oh my gosh, Yoongi, you scared the shit out of me,” you exclaimed, pulling the headphones out of your ears. Yoongi laughed, his signature gummy smile making an appearance. You scowled. “Hey, stop laughing at me, you can’t just sneak up on people like that,” you said, feigning annoyance.  

“And you can’t just leave your door unlocked,” Yoongi scolded.

“I thought this building was supposed to be secure,” you countered.

“Still, can never be too careful,” Yoongi said, a mischievous look in his eyes, “anyone could have come in here.”

“Well, I guess I should be glad it’s you that broke in, huh?” you said, slightly taken aback by how flirtatious you sounded. Yoongi’s blush indicated his own surprise at the banter. He averted his eyes for a second, clearing his throat.

“I, um, I actually came by to invite you to dinner later. At the apartment.”

“Dinner? With you and the, uh, rest of the boys?” you asked, trying to stay casual. You had spent a decent amount of time with the members when you and Yoongi were dating a year ago. You couldn’t imagine you were their favorite person for leaving Yoongi the way you did.

“I figured since you were staying here for a while, you all might as well…reconnect,” Yoongi said hesitantly. You couldn’t help but be a little reluctant when you answered.

“Sure, I’ll be there.”

---

Yoongi gave you instructions on which apartment to go to at 8:00 p.m. tonight and then left your apartment for a rehearsal. You had plenty of time to run this night over again in your head, wondering if you were going to be an unwelcome guest. You and Yoongi might have been a secret from the rest of the world, but you were never able to hide from the boys. They had been just as much a part of your life as Yoongi. You had left them, too.

Before you could knock, the door swung open.

“Noona!” Jungkook exclaimed, grabbing you and spinning you around in a hug.

“Hey, Kook, I missed you.”

“We missed you too, especially hyung. I’m glad you’re back,” Jungkook told you with a bunny smile. His hair was dyed purple at the moment, the long length slightly curling at the ends to frame his face. “Come on, we’re all in the kitchen,” Jungkook said, leading you through their large apartment.

“Hey, Y/N, good to see you,” Taehyung said from his spot on the couch in the living room. Jimin waved at you enthusiastically, his eyes going back to the game the two were playing on the TV. You sighed happily, feeling more comfortable with their warm responses to your presence.

You made it to the kitchen, seeing Jin stir something on the stove in front of him. You gave him a shy smile.

“Hi, Jin.”

“Hey, Y/N, glad you could make it,” Jin said, wiping his hands on a towel by the sink before coming around to give you a quick hug.

“Me too.” Jungkook started poking at whatever was on the stove with a spoon, and Jin immediately started fussing at him to stop ruining his culinary creation.

“Y/N?” you heard a deep voice from behind you. Namjoon was looking at you, his hands casually in his pockets, his dimples indenting his cheeks from his smile as you met his eyes.

“Hey there,” you said, giving him a small wave. He let out a loud laugh at your timidness.

“Come here already,” he said, wrapping you snugly into his embrace. You looked over his shoulder, seeing Hoseok leaning against the doorway to the kitchen, his arms crossed against his chest intimidatingly, brows furrowed. You gulped.

Namjoon must have felt you tense in his arms, letting you go with a confused look on his face. He followed your gaze to where Hoseok was standing, and put a reassuring hand on your shoulder, murmuring to you that you should probably go talk to him.

You took a tentative step forward.

“Hello, Hoseok,” you said, the name foreign on your lips. Your friendship with Hoseok had always been full of laughter and sunshine; there was hardly a time you used his full name rather than an affectionate nickname.

“Y/N,” he acknowledged with a nod. Ah, so he was going to be the one who gave you “the talk.”

“Maybe we should go…catch up?” you suggested, glancing behind you at the flurry of movement in the kitchen. Namjoon, Jin, and Jungkook were desperately trying to look like they weren’t paying attention to the tense energy radiating between you and Hoseok right now. You wondered briefly where Yoongi was, not having seen him in the apartment yet, but you figured it was best to get this part of the evening out of the way first before you saw him.

Hoseok didn’t say anything, so you took it as an invitation to follow him when he turned on his heel and walked toward a room down the hallway. You closed the door softly behind you, waiting for the harsh words to come out of his mouth.

“I apologize for putting you in this situation. I know this is awkward, to say the least,” you admitted. “I’m sure you aren’t thrilled that I’m here. The past couple of days were a bit of a shock to me, too.” Hoseok took a deep breath, a frown gracing his normally happy features.

“I certainly never expected to see you again, especially when Yoongi came back upset because he talked to you.” You grimaced at the thought of how sad and angry Yoongi must have been to warrant this reaction from his best friend and bandmate. If he was in a similar state to you after your conversation about your past, you knew it had been bad. “The last time he was that upset, it was because you weren’t returning his calls because you dropped off the face of the earth. He said you didn’t even tell him where you went. I stayed up with him at night a lot, you know. Back then. I’ve never seen him like that. I certainly don’t ever want to see him like that again. Do you understand what I’m saying?”

You looked down at the ground, your eyes burning.

“Yes,” you breathed. You were so quiet, you wondered if he had heard you at all.

“If you make the choice to come back into his life–into our lives–you have to promise me, you’ll never leave him like that again,” Hoseok said, his voice the most serious you had ever heard it.

“I can’t walk away again, Hoseok. It would hurt me too much,” you made eye contact with Hoseok, his jaw clenched with emotion. “If he wants me to stay, I’ll stay. If he wants me to go, I promise you won’t have to see me or think about me ever again.”

Hoseok visibly deflated in front of you at your confession, his jaw unclenching.

“In that case, welcome back, Y/N.” You almost started crying in relief at his words. You knew that you weren’t going to just go back to how things were with any of the boys right away, but this was a start.

“Thank you, Hobi,” you said, voice cracking with relief. He seemed to relax at the familiar name.

“Now come on, Yoongi won’t be happy that I stole you away,” Hobi said, heading back to the kitchen. The boy in question was sitting on a kitchen stool, looking grumpy.

“Hey, hyung, were you looking for someone?” Hobi said teasingly. Yoongi’s head snapped toward his voice, his face lighting when he saw you.

“You came.”

“You invited me, didn’t you?” you said, walking closer to him, brushing your hand gently against his where it rested on his knee. His fingers instinctively trapped yours.

“Are you two going to sit there and make lovey eyes at each other all night, or can we eat?” Jin teased.

You squeezed Yoongi’s fingers, grateful for how easy it was for the eldest member to break the tension in any situation.

You felt right at home.

---

Your sides hurt from laughing so much at dinner. You had watched and tried to keep up with the boys’ antics, smile never leaving your face, your knee brushing against Yoongi’s more times than you could count.  

Yoongi gallantly walked you back to your own apartment door in the building after you hugged all of the members goodbye, thanking them for dinner. Hobi held you for an extra second longer than the rest, seeming to want to move on from the tense conversation the two of you had earlier. Not that you could blame him for being protective of his best friend and brother.

You and Yoongi stood in front of the open apartment door, and you were trying to figure out how to say goodnight to him. It was late, and the two of you had had an inordinately long day, but you couldn’t find it in yourself to say goodbye to him just yet.

Yoongi beat you to it.

“I’m glad you were able to come to dinner tonight,” Yoongi started. “I know that you’d probably rather be at home instead of having to spend the next couple of nights here though.”

“It’s okay, it’s not so bad,” you caved.

“No?” Yoongi took a step forward, his presence engulfing you. “And why is that?”

He reached up and tucked a loose strand of hair behind your ear. You felt your knees start to buckle before you caught yourself. He leaned into you, his breath fanning out across your lips. Your eyes fluttered at the feeling. He was mere inches away from connecting his lips to yours.  

“You,” you whispered. You waited, expecting to feel his lips on yours, but he pulled back at the last second.

“I should warn you, Y/N–if we start this again, I’m not letting you go. Not this time.”

The fear of being featured on the Twitter trending page and having your picture splashed on magazine covers seemed to take over your mind at the implication of his words. You decided to shove them aside, focusing instead on the man who occupied your thoughts for the past year.

“Then don’t,” you finally said. “Don’t let me go.”

His lips connected with yours, hands finding purchase on your hips. You wrapped your arms around his neck, fingers slipping into his soft, dark hair. He walked you backward into the apartment, closing the door behind him. Once you heard the click of the door, you knew you had solidified your choice.

You chose him.

Part 4 // Part 6

---

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