#fic rc

[salisburyliam]

[sluttychanel]

He so handsome oml- 😭🫶

[andorerso]

high school au in which Jyn simply cannot handle having a crush on Cassian so she's always super mean to him and he's convinced she hates him for no good reason so he's mean right back

idk where I'm going with this but the vibes are vibing

[secret-fungi]

Sweet Pea

Book: Astrea's Broken Heart Paring: David/Audrey Word count: 975 Rating: G

A very short fic for JB

David opened the heavy wooden door, finding the small apartment, stepping over the toys that had been discarded in a rush. toeing off his shoes before he moved farther within the home. He tossed his keys into the tray that sat on the small console table against the wall. He took off his suit jacket as he followed the scent that had enveloped the home.

Tossing his suit jacket onto the back of the sofa he noticed the lack of…. Chaos. It was quiet. Too quiet to mean anything good, and as he came into the kitchen he found her at the sink with her back towards him, washing the dishes as she listened to her stereo on a very low volume. He never understood the point of that, they had slept peacefully through loud music while she was pregnant with them, what was the difference now that they were bigger?

WIth a grin he moved across the kitchen, coming up behind her david pressed himself against her, wrapping his arms around Audrey’s hips and pressing a kiss to the side of her neck, bringing the bright bouquet of flowers up to her line of sight. 

“David?” she asked “Did you sell our children?” he muttered into her neck. She made an offended noise, her hand slapping his arm playfully as he continued to grin.  “Where are they?” he asked, “Napping, don’t you dare wake them.” she said, leaning back against his chest for a moment, letting his soft kisses and the scent of his cologne wash away the troubles of the day, just as he always did.

The man didn’t so much as mutter a response, just continuing to sway with her, his hand coming to rest against her growing stomach. 

He took her hand in his, bringing it up to his lips as he kissed her fingertips. “Did you miss me?” he asked. 

             David promised to give her the stars, and sometimes he wondered if what he gave was enough, when it seemed to everyone that it was him who benefited most from her wish. 

“Yes.” She replied, resting the flowers on the counter before turning into him. “Did you?” she asked, playing with the collar of his dress shirt. “madly.” 

She smiled up at him before pulling him down to kiss her, her fingers burying themselves in his curls as they kissed. She smelt of warmth and sweetpeas and his fingers sunk into her flesh. The soft whispers of the stereo encased them in a bubble, one that made them forget to notice how very quiet it was.

Sweet pea, apple of my eye

Don't know when and I don't know why

You're the only reason I keep on coming home

He brought her to the center of the kitchen, spinning her around as her laughter broke their kiss. It filled the room, and whenever She laughed David vowed to always keep her doing it, to keep her happy because David had, at long last, found the peace he had thought impossible in the woman. He found it in her perfume, and the endless containers of skincare that cluttered the bathroom counter, In the humming that always came from her, in the toys he tripped over whenever he came home, in the childish doodles hung on the wall, most of all he found it in her laughter— he found it in every place he looked, because within each of those places he found her.

They continued to sway, unaware of the two children watching from under the table, their hands and clothes painted evidence of their innocence and eyes wide in curiosity as their parents laughed. Their plans of avenging their mother’s anger plaused for just a moment. 

           And as they were distracted with each other the two children snuck from underneath the table and reached for a glass jar that sat on the counter. It was too easy to get away with and as they scurried off with their bounty they didn’t notice the pair that followed behind them, waiting till they went back to their headquarters, a blanket fort their father had made for them in their closet. 

They returned giggling with glee before continuing their mischief. They stirred a pot of god knows what, Naomi tried her very best to unscrew the jar as Eliana stirred the chunky mixture.

That was when David showed himself, He crouched down to peer into the fort, a smile on his lips and an amused twinkle in his eyes as he looked at his daughter. “What are you brewing, my little witches?” he asked, looking at the muddy glittering liquid. “Potions!” Naomi replied giddily. “Oh? and what are they for?” he asked 

At this, Eliana decided to look up from the pot she was stirring. “A stink potion!” she exclaimed with a devilish glint in her dark eyes. “Oh for who?” “Cassiel, he made momma mad.” “did he?” he asked, his eyes shifting to Audrey who stood outside the fort. 

“Oh! no Uncle Cas was just being funny, I’m just a bit sensitive right now.” she assured “Cause you miss daddy?” Eliana guessed sympathy. David grinned and Audrey hummed in agreement.

“Good thinking, we’ll have to save your potion for him.” David said “David.” He dropped his shoulders dramatically, pulling the two into his arms.  “We do not solve issues with potions, my little witches.” then bringing the girl’s head close to his lips he whispered softly: “We’ll use it later.” 

They grinned at him, with their round childish faces holding onto his neck as he returned to their mother, failing to keep the pride from his face as she looked at the mess they had made of themselves.

“I’ll get them cleaned up.” He assured “go rest.” he added with a kiss to her forehead. 

Sweet pea, keeper of my soul

I know sometimes I'm out of control

You're the only reason I keep on coming home

[jwirecs]

RECOMMENDED SEVENTEEN FICS OF JULY 2023💖

hello, hello! here are my recs for seventeen for july! hopefully these beautiful stories get more recognition as well as the writers 💝

** anything in parentheses and bolded are my thoughts that can be disregarded if needed **

🔞smut || 💔angst || 💕fluff || ✅completed || 🔄ongoing || 💯favorite

Admire Me (Like I Do For You) || @wheeboo💕✅

↳ in which seungcheol shows you his tattoos. 

Dimple || @icyminghao💕✅

↳ you can’t sleep, so you try touching seungcheol’s dimple just for the fun of it (spoiler: he loves it)

Shave || @yikesmary💕✅💯

↳ with your boyfriend’s comeback approaching, mingyu asks you to help with shaving.

The Stars And You || @wheeboo💕✅

↳ in which you bring the stars to your boyfriend for his birthday. (to this author, i am so sorry, but 90% of the fics that i have read from you so far, most of them are on this list. keep doing what youre doing please. i love them)

Try Me || @cheolhub🔞✅

↳ you push your sweet boyfriend a little too far when you threaten to fuck his business partner at dinner. he decides to show both you and mingyu who you belong to. (oh lord, heaven have mercy.)

Ukiyo || @wheeboo💕💔✅

↳ in which you and minghao spend the day together.

Wonwoo's Tasty Cereal (And Milk) || @twogyuu💕✅

↳ You've been eating cereal wrong your entire life. Wonwoo and your niece are going to fix that.

Fake Dating Roommates || @yikesmary💕🔄💯💯

↳ in which choi seungcheol becomes your roommate and fake boyfriend in one fell swoop. and you still don't know how it happened.

Seventeen As Fake Dating Scenarios || @bluehoodiewoozi💕✅

↳ (title says it all and i am out here fulfilling my delulu side of my brain. doing great out here im telling you)

Baby, All I Really Want Is Your Attention || @viastro💕✅

↳ you and mingyu have been academic rivals since the beginning of your high school career. having always aimed for the #1 spot, mingyu would beat you without even needing to study. now dedicating all your time into studying at the local library, you find yourself wondering who keeps neatly packing your things and waking you up each time you fall asleep while studying. (hes so soft, i cant)

Catnaps || @wheeboo💕✅

↳ in which you volunteer at the local cat shelter with your crush.

Dating Seventeen (Hyung Line) || @wqnwoos💕✅

↳ (out here filling my delulu brain. also seungcheol does radiate sugar daddy tho, ngl)

Fix You || @smileysuh🔞💕💔✅💯💯

↳ “As a member of 53V3NT33N, I have two different states of mind coded into me, aggression and admiration. To love something, to admire it, is to feel aggressive when it’s questioned, to want to control it, if even for a little while- it’s the need to consume it, endlessly, as my fans consume and control me as an automaton. Even though I’m a member of a group, there’s a distance. Automatons can never truly motivate each other because our motivations are based on external human needs, it’s built into us- We can see when humans need us, and we do what we can to fix that need… I know you need me, the way I’ve needed you since I got here.” (god, yall dont even know how much i freaking love their fics. like bro, ily)

Gamers Do it Better || @sluttyminghao🔞✅💯

↳ (listen, just hear me out. tag teamed by the two lord saviors of svt's hhu. i really need like a threesome au/tag or something i swear.)

Hits Different || @hellohannie💕💔✅

↳ it was no secret that you had dated many people in your past. when you were with them, you believed you loved them and they loved you. when you broke up, you realized that they didn't truly love you. but you still believed that love was real. then, you met lee chan. when he broke up with you, you started to question if love truly did exist after all. (i need me some more dino fics cause i barely come across any)

Loving Him Was Red || @boowanie💕💔✅💯

↳ After the café you were part-timing at suddenly closes, you were left unemployed and broke as you tried your best to look for a new job. But when your best friend suggests an alternative way of earning money, you suddenly find yourself falling for a certain Jeon Wonwoo.

Pup Code || @beefboyandbabygirl🔞💕✅💯💯💯

↳ mingyu doesn't have crushes. he likes avril lavigne and sometimes he fucks pretty girls. but you seem to stir something in him that no one else can. without the trusty girl code, mingyu makes his own code to help you fall in love with him. (yall need to read this one. like read it cause i lowkey can imagine him making up his own code ngl. man has no self control sometimes)

Crossing Boundaries || @wonusite🔞💕✅

↳ Seungcheol has always demanded that all of his employees keep professional boundaries, but it frustrates him that his son’s nanny is a little too good at keeping things professional. 

Happy (First) Fathers' Day || @icyminghao💕✅

↳ it’s fathers’ day, but you seem to be more fixated on an event for your newborn daughter, much to mingyu’s dismay.

Made With Love || @icyminghao💕✅

↳ joshua wakes up to quite the commotion, and you’re not by his side.

The Cake In the Back || @toruro🔞💕✅

↳ cheol is a regular at your bakery, and it's all because his son loves the banana bread you make—at least that's what he tells himself. it also doesn't hurt that you're cute. and polite. and totally someone he'd like to fuck.

Roommates With Benefits || @shuaflix🔞💕✅

↳ initially, wonwoo doesn’t think much about your incessant requests to play on his xbox. however, when what was supposed to be a two-hour visit to his place stretches out for two weeks, he starts to think you’re overstaying your welcome.

The Secrets Kept From Roommates || @cheolism🔞💕✅

↳ you are hiding a secret from mingyu. little do you know that he's hiding one from you too.

Broken Pieces || @bluehoodiewoozi💕💔✅💯💯💯

↳ Your friend broke your soulmate's heart, leaving you to pick up the pieces of both his and your own heart. (stop my heart, i cant)

Right? Right. || @bluehoodiewoozi💕💔✅

↳ Your soulmate mark might be broken, but at least he will always be there for you.

Do check out all of the other seventeen fics that i have reblogged as well!!

** if there is any fics that you guys would like to recommend, please do! i am slowly running out of fics to read **

[dystopicjumpsuit]

DJ!!! If it's okay, for the first kiss prompt could I humbly ask for

"are you sure about this" with our voice king, Sev?

Or!!

their hearts stopping when they hear someone's camera click (a friend catching them in the act ?) with Tup?

Whichever one inspires you more! Please and thank you 💙

A/N: Thank you so much for the ask @secondaryrealm! It was so fun to get back into the swing of writing Sev. You’ll notice that I’m incapable of writing him without mentioning his voice. Voice kink gonna voice kink. Prompt is in purple!

Pairing: Sev x Reader (GN)

Rating: T, but minors DNI as always

Wordcount: 519

Warnings and tags: fluff, mentions of vomit

Summary: You do Sev a solid.

Masterlist | Sign up for my tag list

“Are you sure about this?” Sev’s deep voice rumbled in your ear, sending a tingle of awareness across your neck.

You turned to look at him over your shoulder. “Kriff, no.”

He smirked and slid his helmet into place. “Too bad.”

Without warning, he spun you around and tackled you, sending you both flying out of the LAAT/i and into the abyss as his arms clamped around your body.

You shrieked, too terrified to be embarrassed by the sound. “Oh, my gods, I’m gonna die!”

You clung to Sev, burying your face against his chestplate as you squeezed your eyes shut, clenching your jaw to try to keep from screaming again.

Sev’s low, modulated chuckle sounded through his helmet speaker. “Relax, I’ve done this hundreds of times.”

“Carrying another person?!” you demanded raggedly, still not opening your eyes.

“Uh… no,” he admitted. “That’s why we needed volunteers for the training exercise.”

Your eyes snapped open, not that it mattered, since all you could see was Sev’s armor and helmet.

“Sev,” you asked nervously, “how many times have you done this while carrying somebody?”

“This is the first. I think it’s going well.”

“I can’t believe I let Scorch talk me into this,” you groaned.

“Everyone who’s ever met Scorch has said that at some point.”

You felt your weight shift as he adjusted the flight path of his jetpack, and your stomach flip-flopped. Gods, I think I’m gonna hurl. Please, please don’t let me hurl on him, you prayed silently to the Force.

“Don’t drop me,” you begged.

“Even if I did, the tether would keep you close.” Sev seemed to sense you didn’t find that as reassuring as he thought you would, and he tightened his fingers on you briefly. “I won’t let anything happen to you.”

True to his word, he soon landed the pair of you safely on the ground. As he released you, your knees buckled, and he caught you just before you collapsed. He yanked off his helmet with his free hand, and you heard it thud to the ground as he tilted your head so he could see your face.

“You okay?” he asked, scanning you quickly for injuries.

“Yeah, sorry,” you said shakily. “I just need a minute.”

You willed your legs to work as you tried not to stare at his deep, gorgeous eyes or his stupid, perfect mouth that you’d been trying to ignore for months. Why does he smell so kriffing good? He has no right to smell like that. 

You cleared your throat. “I, uh, think I can stand now.”

Sev didn’t loosen the arm he had wrapped around your waist, and he stroked your cheek softly with his thumb as he held your head. You gazed into each other’s eyes, as though suspended in time, and then he closed the distance between you as his lips met yours. His lips felt exactly as soft and stupidly perfect as you’d imagined, and you sucked in a tiny, broken gasp when the kiss ended far too soon.

“Wow,” you sighed. “I’m so glad I didn’t hurl on you.”

---

Looking for spicy Sev x reader fics? Allow me to plug my incredibly spicy fic, “Turn It Up When You’re Gone” Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3. The fourth and final chapter will be dropping next month!

[ratanslily]

And the roses will bloom again.

Book: Astrea's broken heart. Pairings: Audrey (mc) x Cassiel. Tags: @agattthaa @rc-catalog Warnings: angst with fluff ending [i guess] , just some mentions of blood, self- loathing. Rating: T to be safe. word count: 1191 approx.

A/N: Set in a AU in which Audrey turns down Cassiel's offer to come back to Astrea, and he takes his frustrations out on his garden.

"Couldn't keep her here.. couldn't keep her safe. What kind of a knight are you, Cassiel? why do you even try?"

Cassiel's mind is a flurry of self-loath and fury, a sword in his fist, swinging left and right in his favourite rose garden, just by the statue of Astrea. His eyes shine bright red, a snarl on his lips as he mutters poisonous words, all for himself to hear.. and suffer.

"Worthless.."

One swipe, and the front row of roses are slashed, their red petals gracing the pathway like blood drops.

"Helpless.." Another swipe, and the newest buds are ripped from their stems, forever cursed to never bloom in the sunlight.

"Useless!" Few more swipes, and the garden seems akin to a battlefield, petals sprayed everywhere, fallen roses sprawled on the ground. A garden which was once a place for Cassiel's peace, his haven, his refuge, the one sight he looked forward to coming every night…. was no more.

Just like Audrey, the one who made his heart thump with energy and vigour, his reason for waking up every day, was no longer at his home. at their home, rather. But is it really a home if she's not here?

A dilapidated desert stood in front of him, and even the usual still Astrea's statue seemed heartbroken at the sight. A lonely night greets him. The house, inhabited, feels abandoned. as if the very essence has left it forever.

A broken Cassiel sinks to his knees, dropping his sword aside, as if he's disgusted by the metal. by his hands, who destroyed the very thing he loved. by himself, for not being convincing enough to bring his Audrey back to their home.

"Come back.. to me.."

But his words are met with the radio silence of the night, only crickets to answer his plea.

He lowers his head in front of the ever calm, ever wise moon, a tear escaping his eyes. two more roll down, glinting in the moonlight. they drip the ground, wetting tje broken petals and roses, as if apologizing to each and every fragment of the barren rose garden.

Oh, only if those tears could water this broken garden, nurture it back to life.

but It cant.

~~

"Cas.. Cassiel..?" Slow, timid steps echo in the garden. His ears perk up. Oh, it can't be, can it?

Cassiel could recognise those steps in his dream. He turns around when he feels her warm hand on his tense shoulder, and looks up at Audrey standing behind him, her face glowing in the moonlight.

She was looking down at him, her face full of sadness and concern, her usually bright and lovely eyes dimmed with despair.

She was crying, wasn't she?

Seeing her here.. in the flesh, and not in a dream, made him sober up a bit. his red flashing eyes dimmed back to normal, the tension in his body diluting little by little.

~~

She didnt want to be back. No, Not after that incident. After what she saw scarred her, made her feel afraid of the house she called her home. of the people she deemed as her family.

her found family.

Audrey was not a stranger to a harsh childhood, but a stranger to familial bonds. she had.. herself. that's it.

but that changed, after she came here. after she met them. the four who took care of her. the four she took care of.

but that one incident.. shook her to the core. her trust was broken.

but what didn't break, was her feelings for Cassiel. that string.. that kept her bound to Astrea.

that string, which implored her to follow her gut and come back home, to her Cassiel, despite turning down his offer to join them back.

and now she's here.. in the midst of withered and slashed roses, a rarely vulnerable Cassiel on his knees, and without thinking, she joins him, her knees resting against the soft grass. Reaching out for him, she wipes his tears away with the palm of her hand, and strokes his tear stained cheeks softly.

"Audrey? what are you.. why are you.. here? You shouldn't- oh, the roses, I-"

she understands him without him saying much, and immediately wraps him up in a bone crushing, yet comforting hug.

Over the times they've bickered and bantered within the four walls, or in the same spot they're in, she had learnt on how to pick up on his behavior. on his needs. and he did, too.

For a second, Cassiel freezes, not knowing how to react, but eventually gives into the hug, his strong arms snaking around her back to hug her back.

And the old grump in him is back again.

"Damnit, Audrey. You're going to crush my bones like that."

"Hush. You're strong enough to take a woman's hug. besides, I wouldn't hesitate to do that if it stops you from crying."

As if to prove her point, she squeezes him tighter, attempting to push him back to the grass. but Cassiel's reflexes are faster.

He pins her to the ground instead, careful enough to lay her where there arent any thorns, but just rose buds and petals, the softness making sure her back doesnt get any scratches.

"Not so strong now, are you?"

Cassiel's smirking face graces her view when she looks up at him, the moon behind him providing a perfect background.

"Hmph. Whatever. I'll get back to you, one way or the other."

A slight pause.

"I'm not leaving you anytime soon. Can't live without disturbing your peace of mind, you know."

His eyes widen. at first, with shock, then surprise, and eventually happiness.

"So.. you're back.. for real? back to the house.. back to us.. back to me?"

She laughs, all the pain, the fear pushed aside. for him, for them. There's no past right now, just the present.

"Back to our home, yes. and Back to you, obviously. Back for you, rather."

She reaches up to cup his cheek, and Cassiel finds himself leaning into it. But a hint of regret still flashes in his eyes.

He can be hot headed, violent. but in reality, he's just a person who is hurt at his heart. he doesn't know how to handle his emotions easily. that's why the poor flowers had to take the hit.

Audrey leans in, and presses her lips to his forehead.

"You're kind of like these Roses, you know?"

"Huh- what? that's ridiculous. Don't go all Raphael on me now.."

"C'mon. you know it's true. at first glance you seem thorny.. prickly-"

"Excuse me? I'm clean shaven."

"- but you're actually soft once you look past the surface."

"cliché."

Audrey rolls her eyes, and pushes him away playfully, and sits up on the grass, looking around.

"Anyway. Now that I'm back, I'm going to fix this mess. Tomorrow you're going to take me to a nursery to find supplies, and we'll grow roses here again."

"You don't need to-"

Audrey stops him, placing a hand on his chest. He silences himself instantly.

"Yes, I need to."

"Promise?"

"Promise."

And the roses would grace Astrea once again.

[a-cloud-for-dreams]

Omg this just inspired another WIP brb !!

[mikaelsrose]

[joeymerenset]

The Ash Scattered Over a Field

Book: PSI

Characters: Ivo Martin x Lou Reed

Word Count: 5566

Rating: M

Warnings: Death, Neck breaking, Nightmares, Strong language, Smoking

Tags: @rc-catalog @secret-fungi @mikaelsrose @agattthaa @liykaii @zumitry @scrubcapsg @sarahrosees @webanglikethat @annn-starrr @astarotha

Summary: Tomorrow, they set their emotions aside and fight for their goal. But tonight, they're just Lou, Ivo, and the city beyond.

Recommend music to read with: https://on.soundcloud.com/MorArg2uTjruUXRu7 on repeat

“Right now, the Assistance Corps have just taken out the Prior of the Inquisition,” a feminine voice announces.

Lou understands perfectly what is about to happen. She awaits frozen in dread as life relentlessly continues going on around her.

Faceless people surround her in a crowd as they watch the fateful event that will change the course of history.

They’re silent, faces void of any mouths to throw the usual insults thrown at such events, void of any eyes to throw any vicious or cutting glances…

Instead, they simply silently expressionlessly face him as he’s brought out. His face, unlike all others, is clear and distinct, his cold and ruthless expression precise.

He isn’t changed out of his immaculate well-kept uniform, the Inquisition badge shines brightly in spite of the cold and gloomy winter rain. His hair is in its usual impeccably neat ponytail, not a strand is out of place.

He doesn’t fit the image of a criminal about to be hanged. And yet,

He gives Lou a cold glance as he’s led past her, and in that split second it feels as though everything around them pauses and they’re in slow motion. 

Lou immediately understands what is truly in his gaze. They both know what they want to say to each other, but unspoken words unite them one last time, as the world around them resumes, and he is ruthlessly led away.

“The higher ranks of the Inquisition have not given us an exact explanation for this situation so far,” a faceless woman on a hologram TV continues reporting her announcement, “however, from the information available to us, it has become clear–”

He reaches the stage and stands in perfect posture, exactly where he’s meant to stand. He shows no sign of resistance against his situation, but as he searches the crowd for where he’s just passed by, when his eyes land on her, she can see the hidden despair in them.

His impeccable appearance contrasts the gallows. The noose now being tied around his neck by an inquisitor in an identical uniform is out of place among his perfect attire.

“...the Prior was staging a coup,” the reporter mercilessly continues against the cold silence. Lou continues staring at the man, eyes wide with horror as the dreaded event comes closer and closer, chasing her like a predator chasing his disadvantaged prey. “Having learned about this, the Vicar Jean-Francois took immediate action to eliminate the traitor.”

She tries to breathe as her heart looses its rhythm. At the sight of the noose around her lover’s neck, her hands tremble and her legs grow weak. She doesn’t take her eyes off him.

She’s paralyzed by dread, too numb to cry and yet, as she becomes hyper-aware of herself and their now inescapable situation, she feels wet tears on her cheeks.

“...horrifying news pierced our hearts,” Lou’s panic crashes into her brain, it screams at her to do something, to act. To strangle the man who’s just tied the noose. It becomes so loud that it drowns out the sound of the TV, breaking phrases into jumbled sentences. “...Church will conduct a lengthy investigation… Who else is involved in…”

Her brain refuses to listen to the indifferent voice on stage that had just begun listing his crimes, as he stands, rigorously watching her, on that trapdoor.

She can only hear her own mind screaming for her to act no less vehemently than it did a moment ago. But, feeling as though her feet are physically glued to the floor, she stands frozen, withholding his penetrating gaze.

Voices without source begin speaking out amidst the brutal silence. Their questions each cut its own deep wound. “What will the Vicar say? How will they deal with the traitor?”

A stab to the gut. “Is the traitor also guilty of the recent crimes against the Church?”

A bullet to the heart. “Did the Prior’s personal guards know of his plans?”

The question that killed her, “Who will the next Prior be?”

And on that stage, standing on that trapdoor, moments away from his final breath, he coldly endures until the dreaded question is asked: “Your final words, Monsieur Martin?”

He shows no weakness or vulnerability, simply answers the question with a cold voice, a stern expression, and a single tear of despair that streams down his uncaring face. He says: “I promised I’d make the universe bigger. I’m sorry.”

And then she hears the deafening sound of the crunch of his neck as the trapdoor opens beneath him. He’s staring directly at her when his eyes roll back into his skull and life leaves his body. 

Lou jolted awake, wheezing for air as if she had run a great distance.

She frantically searched the darkness for any semblance of hope. She found it in the realization that she’d just been dreaming.

She slowed her breathing, inhaled for four seconds, held for four seconds, and exhaled for four seconds. Jonas had once taught her this breathing exercise when she got panicked at school one time. 

She slowly turned herself over and sat herself up on her elbows. She sat frozen for a minute as her eyes worked to adjust to the darkness around her.

As her mind began to make sense of the shapes that surrounded her, Lou looked around the familiar room. It wasn’t hers. In her state of mind, she had just about forgotten where she was spending the night.

A quick scan of the room reminded her whose it is. It was confirmed when she looked down at red and gray sheets that covered her now.

And when she realized whose bed she was in, she absentmindedly turned to look to the other side of the bed. She let out a pained sigh of relief as she saw him laying next to her, soundly asleep with calm even breathing.

And as she sat mesmerized by the sight of his chest slowly rising and falling with every breath, the realization came crushing that the horrific sight she’d just seen has only yet to come. 

Her pulse rang in her ear, her heart dropped to her stomach as she settled into that realization that her nightmare can easily become a reality. She took another deep breath.

He’d told her and Stone to “settle their affairs” before the day arrived. She knew what he meant by that. She knew anything could happen on the fated day, that they’re all in a dangerous position no matter what happens. That’s why she chose to spend the previous day with him, why she wished to wake up in his bed the next morning.

And now she had another reason: she was glad of all places, she was tormented by nightmares in his bed where she can wake up next to him, and simply be with him knowing that he's safe.

She stared at him as vehemently as she had in that dream, as though she could lose him at any second. And as she did, as if her nightmare hadn’t tormented her enough, visions of how the next day could go began playing in her head. 

She imagined Jonas, barely alive from overusing his psi, being dragged away by the AC. She imagined the young Tina having to learn that she'd have to go on living alone as a result of everyone she knows having been killed. She couldn't bring herself to imagine the pyrokinetic dying, and still she imagined every outcome. Most didn’t seem ideal. 

Her imagination led back to his death. She shook her head as her mind replayed the scene, almost as though she was shaking out the image of it. 

When she zoned back in, she thoughtlessly watched him, almost fascinated by the way he breathed. The way he lived.

And amidst the silence that now lingered in her mind, one strained simple thought shattered through the wall of professional detachment she had built. Like how the moon stood out amidst the starless sky above the eternally alive and lit city outside the balcony door, her thought stood out from the quiet darkness of her mind, and it whispered to him: I don’t wanna lose you.

Her hand reached out on its own, as if it was reaching for something it had long yearned to hold, and now it gets to. It reached his face, and hovered over it, afraid to wake him.

She knew he wasn’t dreaming. At least, knowing the nature and purpose of his sedative, she doubted he was. And she knew that her wish to understand what’s going through his head right now was futile.

But Lou’s worry was slightly reassured as she realized that, after the next day’s events are over, he’d likely never have to take that sedative again.

What is happening to me, she thought, why does it matter to me that you’re sleeping soundly?

And yet, despite her deep reluctance to worry for him, her thought was followed up with: Sleeping soundly? …I really hope you are.

She found herself absentmindedly playing with his hair. She gently ran her fingers between his dark locks, as if, even when on auto-pilot, she knew exactly just how gentle to be so as to not wake him.

When she realized what she was doing, she paused, and just stared at her hand, now frozen with a lock of his hair between her fingers.

She took a deep inhale, which was somewhat surprisingly difficult for her at that moment, and then finally decided: No, I better not wake you up.

So her hand retreated, and with it, she did too. She sat herself back up and reached for the bedside table next to her. She had to tap the table a few times before landing on a small box, which she grabbed and took with her as she got up.

She didn’t bother to slip her feet into anything comfortable, so her bare footsteps hardly made any sound when she walked away and onto the balcony.

The floor was warm against her bare feet.

Despite it being the middle of summer, they’d heard it was going to rain that night. Yet, the sky was endlessly clear. Lou felt the warmth against her skin wash out her melancholy and replaced it with discomfort.

She watched the eternally awake city through clouded vision as she lit a cigarette and exhaled the first puff of smoke. Below her, she saw the light turn off from a building or two, but most, just like the Inquisition building, never really slept. 

Just as it was clear of clouds, the sky also lacked stars. It was solely lit by the moon, lonely as she now was. Its light tried to console her as it shone down on her, barely reaching far enough to envelop her in its rays like the dreaded sun did.

And she truly dreaded the dawn of the first rays of sun. She didn’t want tomorrow to come. So she endlessly watched the moon, her heart sank deeper with each second the moon set lower. 

Alone with the moon, she didn’t want to think of the next day anymore. Taking in another drag of smoke, she wondered what the sky would look like if only the harsh lights of the city didn’t outshine the stars.

She found herself rolling her eyes. She’d never cared about such things before.

But as her thoughts led back to him, it almost didn’t matter anymore. Her next thought as she hesitated to inhale again was: Beautiful, that’s how.

She breathed a pained exhale. I’m tormenting myself if I keep standing here waiting for the sun to rise. And as she turned back to return to the sleeping man behind that balcony door, just before she put out her cigarette, her eyes landed on his cello.

He'd left it there after he'd spent the night playing to her, sharing his soul through symphony after symphony, the only way he could.

Moon and sun and stars and the cello all led her to one thought, one memory that didn’t allow her to walk away anymore. 

She remembered a melody among the cosmos, as she floated between planets and nebulae. She remembered standing on the moon as the music dissolved her, and it felt as though she and the music together were becoming the stars and the galaxies.

Her mysterious admirer didn’t accompany her there, yet she learned weeks later on the very balcony she now stood on that he was with her that night. He was the melody that carried her to the stars, the music that undid her. He was the color of the sky, the twinkle of the stars that generously bathed her in their light.

Their generosity came in the form of an outstretched hand holding out a pair of shades on an inconveniently sunny day, or a pack of ice for a runny broken nose. It came as music; a flash drive to keep her company while she was lonely off work, a sound system as some part of him in her home, an orchestra at a planetarium, a cello on the balcony. It came in the form of him.

And he was the main cellist playing that orchestra. He was her beautiful symphony, the chords and tones that tugged at her heart and lured it closer, pushed it deeper into the pool of his affection. And in a world that gave him their undivided attention, she was his only audience, the only one who mattered. She was his muse.

What stupid thoughts, she convinced herself, if Jonas heard all this he’d flick me between my brows and tell me to get my shit together. 

She had no doubt the healer would have a colorful choice of words for her, had he known who she’s spending her nights with.

But she forgot Jonas’ name very easily when he was on her mind. She went back to the edge of the balcony, to the bustling city beyond it that had no idea how much it would change in a matter of hours.

And she took out another cigarette, despite knowing that standing there won’t do her any good, and lit it. She couldn’t turn her back on the moon, the only thing unchanged in her life, guaranteed to rise the next night and set the morning after. 

Shit, she exhaled a stream of smoke, what’s happening to me?

She'd never worried about someone like that before, and worrying about Ivo scared her. She'd tried to break it off the previous day for that reason. It was her duty to protect him as his personal guard, it was her duty to worry. But her worry wasn't out of duty, it was personal.

And the idea of leaving him killed her, and having the Prior die may ruin her career, but it was easier to fail as his guard than it was to fail as his lover.

Moreover, he was the Prior. He was ash scattered over crops where life grew over the death he left behind. Who was she next to him?

Her thoughts were interrupted by a quiet hoarse voice calling “Lou?” followed by the sound of a door clicking.

She turned to look back at the pale tired man who'd just walked onto the balcony. He looked more grim than peaceful and sound now that he was awake. 

He approached her lazily, as if he'd hardly allowed himself to fully wake up before realizing she wasn't asleep in bed next to him.

Lou noted the worried look on his face. He seemed to understand what she was dreading. “I'm sorry,” her apology filled the silence as she flicked the ash off her cigarette.

When he reached her, he wordlessly held her by the waist and planted a kiss just where the sleeve of her shirt had fallen from her shoulder, in silent reassurance that she didn't have anything to apologize for.

And she didn't have it in her to say anything else, so they stood like that, silently taking in each other's presence, for a while. Her, listening to the sound of his breathing and savoring every decibel. Him, watching the smoke floating from her mouth into the air almost as if, in his tired state, he was utterly mesmerized by it.

When her cloud of smoke dissipated into the air, he turned back to look at her, allowing himself to admire the sight of her. Only after he took in every feature, he planted a long kiss on her cheek.

As his lips lingered on her skin, without thinking, she mouthed “mine.” Her voice came out in more of a strangled whisper.

She felt his lips form a smile on her cheek. “That's right, Lou. Yours.”

When she realized he was about to kiss her lips, Lou abruptly moved away, swiftly remarking: “Ivo, my breath reeks of tobacco, you don't wanna taste that.”

Endearing as her concern was for him, he didn't push her any further. He simply went back to admiring her as he absentmindedly stroked her shoulder. She turned back to face the city.

After a moment,  he allowed himself to break the silence and gently asked: “Why are you awake at this hour?” 

She took a second to consider her response before she exhaled it along with another puff of smoke. “I could ask you the same thing.”

He was in no hurry to answer.

Lou decided not to wait for one anyway. “I keep playing scenarios in my head.”

“Scenarios?”

“Of the possibilities of tomorrow,” she clarified. “Don’t get me wrong, I’m prepared to put my emotions aside and serve my duty, but I don’t know that I wanna face the damage we’ll leave behind.”

He stared at her attentively, waiting for her to elaborate, or to decide that she wasn't going to. 

“The other day, while I was… hm. I went to see Jonas and I could hardly hold a conversation. I kept imagining his fate after tomorrow,” a deep inhale as she took in another drag, “it wasn't a pretty picture.”

Ivo's eyes narrowed. Though he'd heard of Jonas before, he had no idea who the healer was or what any of this had to do with him.

“A few days ago, I dreamed about Tina. After I dropped her off at work, I just stopped to think about her future. My dream that night didn’t keep me wondering for too long.”

Ivo clearly had something he wanted to say, but refrained until she’d finished speaking.

“Tonight, I dreamed about you.”

He knew there would be no more elaborating on her part.

“I see,” he sighed as he seemed to understand the gravity of what’s been on her mind. She didn’t phrase it exactly how she’d wanted, but he understood exactly what she meant. He didn’t need any more explanation. “First of all, as for your tobacco breath,” he left a brief kiss on her lips, then brazenly stated: “I don’t care.”

She smiled at him briefly, took in his face, and suddenly saw his eyes roll back into his head again the way it did when he died at the gallows.

Something inside her shivered at the unexpected vision, she abruptly turned away. She refused to look at him any longer.

He felt the strange sense of anxiety that just suddenly came over her. Realizing she probably wasn’t up for it, he didn’t ask any questions. Instead he simply offered her a place in his arms.

She took it, settled her back into his chest, and stood there, held by him. Loved by him. Loved.

“You died,” she lamented, “in this dream.”

His attentive gaze on her became penetrating. His expression confused her. She wasn’t sure whether his furrowed brows expressed anger or concern.

“Our coup hadn’t gone according to plan. We’d doomed people to those godforsaken psionic farms, doomed humanity to a horrific fate, and you were brought to the gallows to be executed. Publicly.”

Ivo silently took in her words. He didn’t answer right away. “Lou, I have everything planned out perfectly. Every moment of every event counted toward our goal, everything that led us here was done strategically and under my complete control. I have several backup plans in the case that things don’t work out. Even in the event of my death, humanity–”

“Ivo! This isn’t about humanity dammit, this is about you!” She raised her voice for the first time in the conversation. “I don’t want you to die! I want you to assure me that you won’t die!”

Panic settled into her stomach as he paused in uncertainty. He couldn’t promise her that. 

“Lie to me.”

He was only silent for a moment before lethargically responding, “...I won’t die.”

“You’re a politician, is that the best lie you could come up with?”

“It’s 2 AM.” He sluggishly refuted.

She wanted to look back at him with an unamused expression but it came out more desperate. More despaired. “Goddammit, Ivo…” She almost whimpered the words out of frustration.

And as she uttered them, flashes of that dream replayed before her mind’s eye. 

She watched again at how he didn’t take his eyes off her once as he stood on the gallows. She’d never forget the way he was looking at her before life left him as abruptly as a gut-wrenchingly beautiful song being interrupted, the cruel silence that comes after. 

And she’d never forget the horrific sound of his neck crunching, it didn’t feel like a distant memory from a dream. 

She was reluctant to inhale another drag as she struggled to breathe. The crushing realization that came next came against her will, that if she lost him, she suddenly would no longer know how to keep living

He was no empath but he almost felt what she was thinking. The weight of the images on her mind were perceptible on her face, in the way she refused to take in another drag of smoke.

She didn’t pay attention to the taste when she absentmindedly inhaled the smoke again. 

She was dragged out of her flashback by his quiet voice, silent as if she was asleep and he was reluctant to wake her. “Lou, come back to me.”

She suddenly became extremely aware of herself and the world around her. As all their problems began to feel tangible, she became hypersensitive to his cold hand on her arm. He hadn’t stopped stroking it once. At this moment, it grounded her.

“I’m sorry,” he rasped. Though he wasn’t one to usually have such a reaction, he mentally cussed at himself for his inability to convincingly lie to her. After all, he was able to deceive a stage one psionic empath. 

“I’m sorry, Lou,” he sincerely apologized again. “In the beginning, I didn’t think that we…”

“I know, Ivo,” a stream of smoke came out alongside her words. “And it’s not your fault. I’m glad I… got to know you,” she wasn’t sure how to phrase it, but they both knew what she was saying. “I knew what I was getting myself into when I became your guard,” she considered everything she’d been through so far that led her to this moment. “It wasn’t to walk in the garden.”

At first, this all started as an attempt to earn enough for a comfortable living. She understood the dangerous nature of her job, and she was prepared to do what it takes. 

She wasn’t eager to protect the head of the Inquisition when she’d first heard about the job offer, but the pay was so generous, she could hardly refuse. She fought hard for that comfortable life in Termitairy she was hoping to have, even if it meant protecting some high-ranking prick.

She never expected that one day, she’d be standing in said high-ranking prick’s arms, as if enveloped by a blanket of love and comfort, as he gently rubbed her shoulders in an attempt to dispel her worries about their upcoming dangerous mission. 

And as she realized how her bitterness towards the Inquisition and its leader was once just barely enough to dissuade her chance to earn decent money, she marveled at her eagerness to risk her life to make a difference, to risk her life for him. 

“And now we’re changing the world,” her next words were uttered silently without any context, “How could I walk away from that?”

“Of course,” Ivo agreed, “But I’m sure you hardly expected to be in this much danger either.”

“It’s easier for you isn’t it? That’s why they call you Ash,” she wasn’t really asking. “And you’ve been planning this for a while. —Well, not this but you’ve at least known some of Jean-Fracnois’ secrets for a long time, haven’t you?” After a silent pause as he considered his answer, Lou spoke up again first and added: “Plus, with the sedative-”

“That’s not the purpose of the sedative.” He hardly intended to interrupt her. It was just an objective fact he felt the need to state.

“I know, but it still helps,” she reasoned.

“To be sure. But either way, Lou, I’ve always had to put my emotions aside for my goal. The ash scattered over a field has no weakness or emotion, it is just ash, and it must fulfill its function– to be useful.”

“You are not ash.”

“I am the Prior. I endure, I do my job, I achieve my goal. Only after that am I a human being, and that’s reserved for you.”

He knew before hiring her that she was someone he’d become fond of, but he didn’t expect to become this fond of her. Too much to lose her. 

He’d told her before that he wished he could be the one to protect her, and along with the upcoming dawn, that statement rises more and more and threatens to drown him with its truth as how the dawn threatens to drown the world with its light. 

He knew where his fate would lead, that it might lead to his death. He knew he was risking the death of his team. He had come to terms with that, he was prepared for it. 

He had to put his feelings aside time and time again for the sake of his goals, since the beginning of his career. He understood that emotions had no place at work.

Before her, emotions had hardly any place in his personal life either.

But now as they stood together facing the rest of the world, holding each other in an attempt to comfort one another, she’d become a person he never wanted to know what it’s like to live without. 

“What exactly is gonna happen tomorrow,” she asked, and suddenly they both became acutely aware of the silence that had been lingering between them for minutes before she uttered her question. She looked up at the moon, and realized: “Well, today.” She turned again to face him, a look in her eyes he’d never seen before: desperation. “What are the steps of your plan? Tell me every detail.”

Her tone was cold and determined, it sounded as though she was commanding him, but she was asking for reassurance.

Ivo paused in silence for a moment, then let out a grim sigh. That was the first time in the entire conversation he’d stopped stroking her arm.

He nudged her lightly to have her turn to a position where she’s facing him, their faces inches apart. And when she complied, he took a long attentive look at her face, memorizing every feature as if it was the most important exam he was ever going to take.

Then, he took her hand with his and pressed it onto his chest. He held it there.

“Ivo, what are you doing-” she was interrupted by the murmur of a thud. Then another, and another.

He was silent for a minute as he let her listen. He simply watched her face take in the sound, and pay attention to it.

“You’re listening to the heartbeat of the Prior of the Inquisition,” he finally spoke. His chest rumbled lightly beneath her palm as his words came out. “Many have tried to stop it from sounding. Many wanted to cease its beating.” His lips were so close, they almost whispered into her temple. “You saw first hand how close they were to succeeding.”

And as he watched her attentively, her eyes were fixated on his hand on hers, holding hers to his chest. She soaked in the sound.

“Listen to it now, Lou.”

“Oh…” she felt as though she was physically holding in her hand the beating heart of the man who truly belonged to her.

Belonged to her? What right did she have to think so?

But tonight, those thoughts of doubt were drowned out by a lud, lud, lud,

A sound she now realized that, alongside the roar of her motorcycle’s engine and the music from her headphones, had just become among her favorite sounds in the world.

And just like how she cannot imagine living without music, and how she’d sooner die than give up her motorbike, she realized she never wanted to stop listening to the sound of his life whispering reassuring promises to her through his heart.

It whispered to her what he wanted her to know, because he survived and he endured for his goal because of her, but he lived for her.

He was silent again for another few minutes, she stood mesmerized again as she listened. When his voice sounded again,it almost startled Lou out of a shell she seemed to have retreated to. “First thing in the morning, we’ll meet with the Vicar,” a fact she already knew, “he will agree to my proposal–”

Lou couldn’t stand it anymore. “Yes, Ivo, but what proposal? What are you going to tell him?”

He didn’t give her an answer. Instead, he simply slowly shook his head in a silent plea to listen to his words. “Everything will go according to plan at the synod. Exactly every guest we need will show up. Every person who is taking part in our plan, whether they know it, intend to, or they don’t, will be exactly where we need them to be.”

His vagueness frustrated Lou. His words told her nothing of his plans, as always. 

His words often spoke a vague truth, one that cut. But the continued sound that trembled under her palm told Lou all she needed to hear. 

“We will gain control over the city so that we can prevent as many deaths as possible….”

As he kept speaking, he didn’t take his hand off hers, he didn’t allow her to let go of his heart. And why should she, when it beats because of her? When it beats for her.

He wanted her to own it, as if he trusts her not only to protect it from metaphorical heartbreak, but he trusts her to keep it beating. 

She no longer listened to his words, she lost herself in the sound of his heartbeat that drowned out his cruel lies, sweet reassurance that was more cruel than threats and insults.

She settled into the sound that swaddled her like the comforting darkness of the night, the steady rhythm of his heart assured her more than his sorry attempts at deciet. It didn’t have his tone, the uncertainty with which he spoke, that slight unsureness, a hesitancy in promises.

No, his heart only kept sounding, each beat a promise that it would fight for the next one.

She didn’t realize how long she’d been standing there listening to the sound of his heartbeat after he let her hand go and stopped speaking. He didn’t try to remove her hand from his chest.

He only planted a kiss on her temple, which promised more than his words ever could.

“Sorry,” she apologized half-heartedly.

If he couldn’t tell from the reluctant tone in her apology that it wasn’t true, he knew it from the way his hand lingered on his chest, refusing to pull away.

She tried again. Only this time, she tried the truth: “I love you.”

Silence was his reply. It wasn’t that he hesitated to respond, no. He was silent as her words settled in. He understood that she did, and he knew exactly how he felt, but only when her words reached his heart and caressed it like sunlight’s rays caressed all that it dawned upon, he responded: “I love you too.”

Lou understood that tonight would be their last as human beings before they’d have to put their own humanity aside for the sake of the rest of humanity.

She understood she’d have to forget her emotions and serve. She knew she could. But tonight, that wasn’t what she worried about.

Tonight, humanity disappeared and summarized in one person, in the form of him. Tonight, nobody else mattered to her, only him.

Maybe during her days when she sat in his office, when she went on missions to dangerous clubs to find shady people, or beyond the perimeter for evidence of dangerous crimes against the Inquisition or the Church, Lou’s only goal, which she fought for sincerely, was for humanity. For people.

But tonight, as sleep came and sucked her into its comforting darkness easily despite the terrifying reality of tomorrow, none of it mattered to her. Only him.

[salisburyliam]

Uh... the fight scene between Amen and Set...

[teddybearty]

*shove these in ur hands and runs away blushing*

I LOVE THESE TWO SO MUCH!!!! 😍😍😍

[andorerso]

another Rebelcaptain idea I'll never write: Partisan Jyn and Rebel Alliance Cassian sent on the same mission by their respective mentors

[secret-fungi]

All those wretched things

rating: M

pairing vesper/ nova

words count: 4478

tws: self harm (kinda), emotional distress, mentions of religious abuse/ trauma, interalized homophobia/ racism(??? are witches a race??) nova hates herself.

summary: have u ever been so horny for someone it made u revaluate ur religious beliefs? nova has and now shes cryin abt it.

When Vesper came around she was greeted with the soft sound of someone snoring coming from the sofa, and upon investigation the woman found that the sight before her was quite amusing, the catcher laid stretched out on the sofa, hair all about, sticking her face in odd and random places, her familiar resting on the dip of her waist, a blanket over her, and the lamp in the corner of the room still on, casting shadows on the woman’s cheeks. Small signs of care laid all about, and for only a moment did she find herself wishing to catch a star, but the thing with stars is that they are so very far away, and in all the time it takes for them to reach us, it is already too late for some of them, if a star falls you can never catch it, no matter how hard you try or how far you reach into the sky the star has already fallen.

The small familiar stared at the woman stretching its limbs before settling back into the catcher as if asking her business with the sleeping witch, keen eyes watched her as she reached forward and pet the top of its head. 

“Have you been guarding her?” she asked the familiar, her only response was a lazy blink, as if offended that she would ask such a thing, the poor thing hadn’t strayed too far from the catcher since her return, and whenever it did it would be rather anxious, rushing into wherever she was as if the familiar didn’t truly believe that she was safe. 

“I know… me too.” she admitted, her eyes drifting to the witch below her letting her mind wander as she sat on the coffee table.

The catcher stirred, and in response her familiar made a soft noise as if to say it was okay, that they were still with her. And absentmindedly she wondered how many times throughout the night had the catcher asked for reassurance. As if responding to a command she hadn’t realized she had given, her hand reached out on its own to play with a strand of hair that had fallen in the catcher's face, gently tugging it from where it was stuck against her full lip before coaxing the knots from the strand as she watched the woman’s expression darken, her lips pulled into a small frown, tears wetting the catchers dark lashes, but they didn’t fully fall, as if aware of her presence they were stopped by her lashes, only small streaks escaped and fizzled out.

She was told that upon her return, the catcher didn’t like to be alone, and that no matter how late you came home she would be sitting on the sofa with a cup of tea in hand, often admitting that she couldn’t sleep, and if you stayed a while she would act as if you are a life preserver, and though she promised she would be right behind you, that she just had to wash her dishes, she would not return to her room. 

And as the older woman’s finger traced the other’s face the catcher moved closer, chasing the small touch without waking. 

 What a horrible thing it is, to want something and not know it. One woman thought to herself.  What a horrible thing it is, to want something you are undeserving of. The other corrected. 

         Who decided that you are undeserving? The first woman asked.  Me? Came the unsure reply. Where did you learn that? The first urged. I was born knowing. 

No. you were taught to know. 

In truth the catcher was only half asleep, as soon as she felt someone approach her she was pulled from the endless sea that she found sleep became when you pushed it off until you couldn’t anymore and when the older woman’s touch lingered too long for the catcher to bare it,  she opened her eyes, if just to stop the feeling the woman’s gentle touch left on her skin, if just get the woman to retract her hand, but when her eyes found the other’s the woman did not pull away, nor did she seem to feel any sort of embarrassment for having been caught. For a while, the pair looked at each other in silence before the older woman parted her lips but at the sight of the small flinch that the other gave in return she remained silent, withdrawing her hand from the other’s hair. And so they sat together, swallowing their words. 

Eventually though the older woman spoke up, “Why are you sleeping out here?” she asked, watching as the catcher straightened herself up almost self consciously before she shrugged. “I must’ve fallen asleep while drinking.” she explained, gesturing with her chin towards the discarded mug on the coffee table beside the woman, the last few sips had long gotten cold.

The catcher didn’t bother to explain why she stayed up, she didn’t think she could even find the words to explain why – or how when you stayed up so long, sleep felt like floating in an endless sea on the darkest night, no moon or stars in sight, just the sounds of silence and the feeling of water pushing her back and forth. And only sometimes did her thoughts crash into her, but that was only rarely and that was a mercy, for she always got swept up in them. Maybe she simply couldn’t stop them from catching up with her when she slept. It seemed that no matter how hard she tried, she couldn’t escape. It was as if her thoughts were a great beast banging against a door and with each of the hits the hinges bent and weakened, and whenever that door broke a flood would come sweep her away. 

Sometimes the flood would lead her to the woman, and whenever it did she could never decide to fight against the current or let it push her into the vision. But each time she reached the shore that the woman waited for her on and when she did, she felt as if the sand was made of broken glass and hot stone and the older woman was made of hell fire and thorns, as soon as she wrapped her arms around the catcher the whole island would be consumed. 

Other times, the flood wouldn’t waste time on a pretty illusion, it would bust through the door and wrap it’s arms around her, consuming her without a kiss, and though she struggled, still she drowned.

The catcher looked to the other woman and considered that maybe she didn’t have to explain, instead she watched the woman’s hands as they fixed her sleeve  before she casted a grave look to the catcher’s makeshift bed before saying; “If you make it a habit we’ll have to get a better couch.”

 “Sorry.” the catcher mumbled “I wasn’t angry.” the older woman corrected, and for a moment the catcher caught her looking at her intently, something a bit far away in her eyes before she looked away, chasing away a thought she shouldn’t have had.

The catcher took in the scene before her with a quiet reverence, her eyes wide and jaw slacked, Like a starved man at the sight of a feast, like a man lost at sea at the sight of land, like Mary Magdalene at the sight of Jesus. 

The pair sat in silence, both caught in the moment and chasing away thoughts with a series of rapid blinks, a nervous swallow, fidgeting with their fingers – anything to stop them from acting on their thoughts. but as the light caught stands of the older woman's hair, as her eyes lingered and her mouth dried, the catcher's thoughts caught up to her.  

Wretched are those who are born without love, those with no soul to burn or rot, for they will hunger forevermore and never shall they be satisfied for they will seek the comfort they have lost with the fruits of the flesh, and it will never be enough. 

This lesson was hard learned, and still with a smile, a light touch… a laugh, with just her presence,  she caught herself believing it less and less. And what use was it to believe there was no worth in being as she was? Of slipping into the shadows and never letting the sun kiss your cheeks, When tomorrow it could be gone, it could be the last chance to lay in the sun and watch the clouds roll by, and selfish as it was she didn’t want to give it up. She knew that It wasn’t right, she knew she was only making things difficult, for herself, for Vesper who didn’t deserve what nova would have to do – No she deserved it, she must’ve because she was a wicked thing, even if she was beautiful and kind. Even if she felt like coming home – Nova knew her kind, she was warned that They were vicious. They were cunning and would do anything, like wild beasts that waved a knife blindly at everything and everyone. 

The devil was above all things, seductive and all his creatures must’ve been too. 

But even still, even knowing this… what had kept her up most of all was the knowledge that there were no other monsters amongst those who resided at the nest, they did not hide under beds, waiting for a chance to eat the young and innocent, they did not hide horns under hats or hoods – and despite their nature they were hopeful, desperate for a chance to be known, loved, a chance for the tears and each strike they were dealt to be heard and acknowledged.

At this realization a truly terrifying thought came to her mind; Even wretched creatures reached for warmth, even they wished upon stars, and hoped for love and a place to belong, this she had learned more and more time she spent with them. She was always told that she was different, special. She was chosen to right the wrongs, she was going to –

The realization came like a leaky pipe, a slow drip that caused big issues and as she looked at the other woman fixing her hair – a meaningless habit she likely did out of anxiety –  the realization finally hit her once and for all; That even she, wretched as she was, desperately wanted what couldn’t be. 

By the time the catcher came back to reality the older woman was looking at the other now, watching every micro expression flit across the catcher’s face with her legs crossed and hands held tight together as if every expression she saw was bad news, like she was watching, waiting, Nova couldn’t place hope as one of those emotions that tugged at the woman’s lips or furrowed her brows, no it didn’t seem like hope at all.

The two women stared at each other in silence, ignoring the truth and pretending that a lie could be true. Sat in the living room, with all the soft noises of people’s early stirrings, the shower starting, a bed creaking-  and the breathing of the two women. 

Vesper kept her eyes focused on hers and in turn Nova kept her eyes focused on the space between the other woman’s brows as she shifted uncomfortably. 

They could wish for the same things, after all the heart was deceitful above all things, and desperately wicked and even the damned cried, but they are not their hearts, and she was not one of them. She was a sheep amongst wolves, She was – 

 “When I couldn’t sleep I would read and play chess.” Vesper told, and for a while Nova stayed still, nervously picking the skin on her finger before she smiled “I’ll try that… got any good books you recommend?” She asked and at this the older woman gave a look as if she was naive to the world that she was asking about. Her lips curled into an amused smile and there was something so mischievous in her eyes, in an instant nova knew that she wanted to tease her. 

But instead the woman only nodded. “I’ll send over my favorite.” she promised, “it got me through many sleepless nights, I hope it’ll give you a similar peace.” 

Peace. The catcher repeated the word mentally as she pinched her wrist under the blanket. Nova would have rathered the other woman teased her, she never minded it one bit whenever she did, she would be able to make sense of the feelings that her teasing smile inspired.

What was peace supposed to be like? She questioned. Nova didn’t think about supposed-to-bes often, she wouldn’t allow it, because supposed-to-bes always led to trouble, because she would imagine what her birth parents were like, she would wonder what language she was supposed to grow up with, what home, then she would think about her family out of guilt for wondering about the people who abandoned her, and she’d think how he wasn’t supposed to adopt her, and how if he did, he was supposed to – She didn’t think about supposed-to-bes, because it would always end with her brain reminding her that she wasn’t supposed to exist. 

 The catcher always lost track of time, losing it to her thoughts had been an issue ever since she was young, she was always scolded for being in a dreamland, so often that she gained a reputation,  but the woman pulled her back with a gentle hand on her knee. And there was something a bit bitter in the realization that that touch was all she needed to pull the catcher back. 

A simple, tender gesture to let her know she wasn’t alone, and still she flinched, wide eyes snapping to the other woman, tensing up as if she was waiting for a punch, a slap, harsh words or mockery – and at this moment, Vesper frowned and found herself once again wishing for that star, wishing not for the first time that things were different. 

And that micro change in the other woman’s expression didn’t escape the catcher, and yet it still was misinterpreted as something very different than what it truly was, rejection and disappointment.

“Are you… feeling better?” Vesper asked “oh, yeah. I’m all fixed up.” she replied quickly, and at this the other woman gave a knowing expression, a smile falling onto her lips. “You sure?” she asked pointedly, her eyes landing on the blanket the younger witch was wrapped in, a silent acknowledgement that she knew that the catcher didn’t simply fall asleep on the couch by accident. 

But the catcher smiled nonetheless, pinching her palm as she shrugged at the other woman. Nova found that she switched between wanting the woman’s keen gaze to never leave her and never landing on her to begin with. Because it was as if she swallowed a ball of fire and it settled within her stomach and that heat rose to her cheeks and the tips of her ears, it made her heart drop to the soles of her feet and simultaneously get caught in the back of her throat. But its absence was worse, and made her wish to do something stupid to get her attention once again. 

It seemed that the world about them slowly awoke to threaten their fragile peace. Each chirping of a bird only was another ticking clock, reminding Nova that the moment the world truly started this moment would shatter, and she would go off again.

“Are you waiting for someone?” Nova asked. Again the other woman gave a smile before she replied. “Yes.” “Then, I won’t keep you.” Nova replied, casting off her blanket before she rose to her feet and as she folded up the blanket once again the other woman watched with keen eyes. 

“Stay.” she instructed, and so the catcher remained, unsure of what to do. 

      I’ve never found arms that didn’t hurt when they held me, where is the poison you’ll slip in my drink? Where do you hide the knife you’ll cut me with? Where have you hidden your fangs and claws? Is the poison already drunk? Is the knife already stuck?

“You can cry if you need to, no one will judge you.” Vesper said. The catcher scoffed, making a dismissive gesture with her hand. “I don’t need to cry, I’m fine.” she denied, but the woman only arched her brow. “Then why do you smile like that?” she asked

She didn’t have an answer to this, because the truth was one they both already knew, and she didn’t know what it would mean if she admitted that.

“Like what?” she asked “don’t you like my smile?” she joked, batting her lashes but the woman only seemed to be amused, a mischievous smile stretching across her lips and the spark in her eyes seemed to be all too delightlighted, and in that half a second before she replied Nova could almost hear the battle she had between being genuine and teasing the catcher, and before the catcher could dismiss her comment vesper answered; “It’s beautiful, even more-so when it’s genuine.” 

Heat rose to the tops of her ears, and the whole of her cheeks. “It’s genuine.” she denied. Vesper arched a brow at the other as if to warn her off from lying to her. “I know the difference.” Vesper said, and for some reason Nova felt like screaming. 

“Oh, and what's the difference?” She asked the woman, and never one to neglect a challenge, Vesper readily accepted the challenge that the catcher leveled with an arch of her brow.   “You light up, you smile with your whole being, when it's fake you make eye contact, and when it’s real you never do, always looking around nervously.” She said at this the catcher tensed, as if she had to remain stiff or else all her pieces would scatter. But the other woman didn’t stop, for whatever reason she seemed to want to prove just how much she knew the other, like she had drawn her weapon just to show her that she had one too. 

“It's subtler but somehow more substantial.” She added, The catcher gave a look so skeptical Vesper had to suppress a smile, her face scrunched up and her brows raised high, you could hear her disbelief so clearly it was as if she had the words painted across her forehead, as if her very soul had joined in to exclaim it’s skepticism too.  

 “Well, you have my vote if you ever run for office.” she joked sarcastically. Vesper only laughed, and Nova once again looked at her, that same reverence, that desperate adoration so evident on her face that it wasn’t truly any wonder why the other woman teased her, because even the blind could see what the older woman meant to the catcher, you couldn’t miss the way her gaze lingered, and even if the catcher wasn’t aware herself, everyone else was very aware. 

“Are you afraid of being known?” Yes. “Are you afraid of not knowing?” she asked in return, making vesper smile in response. Yes. “No, because I do.” “Oh? Is that so?” the woman nodded, smile still on her lips as if she was waiting for the other to catch up, to understand what she hadn’t yet.

And in her smile, Nova found the truth, and the sinking feeling returned. “Is this what this is? Being known?” she joked “you didn’t know?” Vesper asked, and with that same grin –  as if she was telling a joke only she understood but was amused all the more by the fact that no one else caught it. “Well you’ve never asked for my favorite color.” she joked. “That hardly counts as knowing someone.” Vesper argued.  “only if you don’t know it.” Nova replied with a triumphant smile. 

“Blue.” the woman replied easily. “What?” “Your favorite color is blue.” She explained, and this simple acknowledgement was enough, maybe it was only the last drop in an overflowing pitcher, maybe it was the fact that knowing she was known only served to claw at her chest, a ringing, traitorous thought came through the blood that pounded in her ears. 

So this is what it feels like. But if this was what it was like, and she had never felt it before… then was she never known before? Of course she was known – she was loved. 

But why did being known feel so different when it was her that knew? When had she gotten to know her so well to be able to tell things that not even her father could? Did this mean that she knew her better than her father did… or that her father just didn’t know her at all?

How well did anyone know anyone? And at what point did knowing become a burden that hindered love? At what point did Nova hinder people from loving her? 

Had she been loved as a child? What was love if not pulling your loved ones to the right path even if it might leave bruises? What was love but doing what was needed, even at the temporary pain of those you loved. 

Love and cruelty were one and the same, and Vesper was cruel in her own way. Nova wished she had shot her. She wished she would strike her down, take her out of the game so that Nova wouldn’t have to pull the trigger herself.

And before she could stop or hide them, tears started to run down her face, and their appearance surprised even her, as she hastily tried to wipe them away. “I’m sorry - I don’t know why-” she said, trying to walk past the woman and that too, proved futile as the woman caught her elbow, pulling her back as if she had been waiting for this. 

“I thought...” she whispered, her voice trailing off into the air, falling flat at her feet as the rest of her sentence stayed trapped in the back of her throat. Although the words gave no context for the other woman, still she nodded. The expression that fell upon her face wasn’t truly a single expression, but rather what seemed to be a thousand micro expressions all flashing for not even half a second, like the flapping of a humming bird’s wings. Sympathy, understanding, pity- amusement, anger, sadness, resentment, resolve. As if she understood, remembered how it felt and was displeased that it happened again. Like a fly watching yet another of its kind be caught in a web, like the catcher was a vase precariously positioned on the edge of a surface that she could only watch fall, unable to catch it from shattering in time.

But she wrapped her arms around her as if that could hold her together even just for a moment, maybe she thought better than saying what she thought, the words that so clearly knocked against her teeth. Maybe it truly was sympathy the other woman felt– maybe it was something else. 

“I’m sorry.” Vesper replied, holding the catcher just that much tighter. Nova wasn’t sure what she was apologizing for, maybe that she was taken in the first place. She wasn’t sure that the woman understood why she was crying but then again there was something so knowing that she doubted the woman believed she broke over being taken. 

There was a cruelty in her being so close, to have her arms wrapped around her, to be able to be consumed by her perfume, for the loose strands of soft hair to tickle her cheek, to be able to  notice the small details you miss when you’re not this close. 

The catcher curled her fingers into the woman’s top, and as she cried on the woman's shoulder she bit her lip so hard in an attempt to stifle the tears, and as she did she felt that somewhere within her, wherever it is your soul is kept a fire had started and as it spread it tore a horrible hole through her. The black smoke clawed at her throat and as she heaved and gasped in an attempt to stop it – to stop the flames from consuming her whole, but as she coughed out the thick black smoke the clouds spelt out a truth – 

She wasn’t like them. She knew her place. She…. couldn’t outrun her shadow. 

– Even she, wretched as she was, was more like them then she was anyone else. 

She was one of Them. 

And now she never would be. How could she? She thought of a million things, each thought coming all at once, mixing together in a disjointed choir like hell’s symphony but as she held the woman tighter, feeling the other squeeze her as if she had a place in her arms, the soft way vesper muttered, the way she hadn’t stopped stroking the other’s back since she was in her arms, it all caused so many thoughts but one rang clearer above the rest; it felt right. 

and Nova hadn’t felt right in a very long time– She didn’t know if she ever had before this, and although she really shouldn’t have, she let the other woman distract her from this thought, because if it all must end at least she could…

The catcher's arms suddenly dropped like lead, and as she took a breath she asked herself just what the hell she thought this was? What was she doing? And who did she think she was fooling? 

“Don’t leave.” Vesper instructed, every part of her said that she knew the other, the curl of her lip, the arch of her brow, the glint in her eyes as if she knew more than the catcher cared to tell, even the way she held herself was as if she considered herself rome, either you seek her out or you’ll find your way to her accidentally but no matter what you did, you came to her. She looked at her as if she was a stray dog that thrashed about when offered kindness. 

But the catcher fled, tripping over her feet to get away from the other woman, as if she had burned her, as if she was all that she was said to be. And if the catcher had turned around she would have seen the expression that the other gave, she would see how she never left the other’s sight. But the catcher didn’t turn around.

Wretched is your heart for it lies and burns, it whispers truths in your ear that you can’t unhear. wretched are your feet for they ache to walk down paths unknown. Wretched are your lips, for they long sin. 

But amongst the those wretched things the most abominable is you, for the most contemptible sin of all is to have fallen in love, 

[ellalalala]

It's almost 2 am and I'm exhausted but I wrote 1.4k words... hoping I'll be done with this one tomorrow

[racingcore]

🌟

Love your stories

oh i get to choose!

okay then from 'how terrible it is to love' aka lestappen crash fic, i know that religious symbolism and some more symbolism i dont know the name of is sprinkled all over but i thought why just not shove it into the readers face here.

The doctor just shook his head. Then there was a gentle pat on his head, the weight staying. Max looked up but couldn’t see the person’s face, the sun directly above him. He felt dizzy.   “I'm sorry,” the voice said gently, the only thing Max could hear above the rush of noise around him. “He is not going to wake up.”  

at first i was thinking of making it more obvious. like you already know its a person, too blinding to see because of the sun, you dont know their face. i was going to add how Max was peaceful in the moment, but how wrong it felt. how he was above everything in the presence of that person but how badly he wanted to be grounded in Charles laying in front of him. but then it would have been too much symbolism considering i also did this with Max

He knew, deep down he knew. But he was Max Verstappen, stubborn and reckless to the fault of writing his own destiny in the history books. He willed almost everything his way, a three times world champion, Mad Max, the Flying Dutch.   And if he didn't will God, the universe, to look him in the eyes and let him keep Charles; then what was he?  

arrogance in the face of god, of destiny. how long one can be presented by indifference by the universe before the price has to be paid kinda way? but also not. you get what i mean? yes Max wrote himself in but things happen, life happens and loved ones die and no matter how sure you are of yourself in life, it shakes you cuz you can be angry all you want, be defiant and demanding but nothing can change that.

all in all i wanted that what Max defied be the one to deliver him the news all while it was happening on the very base of which Charles and Max's relationship developed into love: racing.

from this ask game.

thank you anon! hope you're having a nice day <3