#i spent way too long picking lyrics for this one BUT. i hope that it helps to convey what i was going for w the screencaps

[zeraf0]

[it] makes you almost miss the smell of smoke in your clothes / there’s no good in your eyes anymore. but you can’t stay angry forever. and i know, but you can’t stay angry forever, / or so i’m told. but the house gets so quiet, sitting here wishing for just an hour or two, alone with you. well, it’s always too personal, / always too close to comment, and they all mention how tired you look and you realize you haven’t said a word in hours

hiding, pianos become the teeth.

early days arthur and john, at sean's homecoming party. things around camp are still tense and arthur's resentment still bleeds through.

[marysfics]

Spinning on Vinyl

''You remind me of a song that I can't seem to skip''

Angst, Happy Ending, Fluff

The apartment feels eerily quiet without her. The kind of quiet that presses in on your chest and makes it hard to breathe. It’s not like this is the first time you’ve been alone here—Alexia has always been traveling for matches, for training camps, for endless commitments that took her far away from this small, shared space. But tonight, it feels different. Heavier.

You glance at the half-empty wine glass sitting beside you on the floor, untouched for a while now. The rich, red liquid doesn’t hold the same allure it did an hour ago when you first poured it, hoping it might numb the ache growing steadily in your chest. But wine can’t drown out everything, and it certainly can’t drown out memories.

In a slow, deliberate motion, you reach over to the vinyl record player resting on the shelf. The same one the two of you had found in some vintage shop on one of those rare days when Alexia wasn’t rushing to the next match or the next media appearance. You remember her smile when she saw it, how she picked it up with delicate hands, her eyes lighting up like a child’s. She had said it reminded her of her childhood, of Sundays spent with her family listening to old records, the music mingling with the smell of her mother’s cooking.

Now, the player feels like a relic of something lost—something you’re trying desperately to hold on to, even as it slips through your fingers. The needle touches the vinyl, and the first crackle fills the room. The static noise that used to sound comforting, like a prelude to something magical, now feels like the space between you and her. Thin, fragile, barely holding it all together.

The music begins, soft and slow, an old song that you both loved. It was the kind of melody that wrapped around you like a blanket, pulling you into each other’s arms without a word. You close your eyes, sinking into the sound, letting it carry you back to a time when everything felt simpler. Back when Alexia was yours—not just in fleeting moments, but truly yours.

The bassline vibrates through the room, echoing in the emptiness, and you can almost hear her voice in your head, low and soft, singing along under her breath as she always did. You smile faintly at the memory of it—the way she used to sing off-key just to make you laugh. She wasn’t a performer, not in that way. She saved her grace for the pitch, but in these quiet moments, she was unguarded, playful, completely at ease.

God, how long has it been since you’ve seen her like that?

Your eyes drift to the framed photos on the wall. There’s one of the two of you, her arm slung around your shoulder, both of you grinning at the camera after one of her games. Her jersey is still drenched in sweat, hair messy from the action, but her eyes—her eyes were on you. You remember the moment clearly. It was the first time she’d kissed you in public, right there in front of the cameras, after she scored the winning goal. She had pulled you close, pressing her lips to your forehead, murmuring something in your ear that made you laugh, but now you can’t remember what she said. Just the feeling it left behind, warm and safe.

But that warmth has faded, replaced by the cold void of her absence.

The vinyl continues to spin, the needle gliding effortlessly through the grooves. Each note feels like a heartbeat, each lyric a whisper of something lost. You don’t even try to stop the memories now—they flood your mind, unrelenting, filling every corner of your thoughts with her.

You can picture her so clearly. The way she used to curl up on the couch after a long day, her legs tucked beneath her, that soft smile on her face as you laid beside her. The smell of her shampoo, something fresh and clean, the way her hair would fall into her eyes when she was too tired to push it back. The sound of her laughter—low, almost raspy, but full of life. You can still hear it, like an echo bouncing off the walls, even though it’s been weeks since you last heard it in person.

God, it’s been weeks.

You glance at your phone again, your thumb hovering over her name. It feels like it’s always been there, waiting for the right moment to press call, or send a message, or do anything that might pull her back to you. But you can’t. You haven’t. The space between your last conversation and now feels too wide, too difficult to cross with just a text.

She’s always somewhere else. Even when she’s here, she’s always got one foot out the door, ready for the next game, the next match, the next chapter of her story that you’re barely a part of anymore. It wasn’t always like this, though. Once, there was balance. There was her, and there was you, and it felt like the two of you existed in this beautiful harmony, like two notes perfectly in sync. Now, it’s as if you’re playing different songs, neither of you willing to change the tune.

The music picks up, the tempo quickening, but it doesn’t bring comfort. If anything, it reminds you how things have been moving too fast. How her career is growing and expanding in every direction, while you feel like you’re standing still, watching from the sidelines.

And maybe that’s what hurts the most.

You never wanted to be a spectator in her life. You wanted to be a part of it, truly part of it, not just someone she comes home to when the world isn’t watching. But lately, that’s all you’ve been—someone who waits, who watches, who wonders if there’s still space for you in her world.

The song swells, and with it, so does the ache in your chest. You lean your head back against the couch, eyes fluttering shut, letting the music wash over you. You focus on the rhythm, trying to lose yourself in it, trying to forget the gnawing emptiness that seems to grow with every passing day.

But you can’t forget her. You never could.

The song changes, a softer melody now, and with it comes the familiar pull of nostalgia. You know what’s coming next. This was your song—the one you and Alexia always danced to, barefoot in the kitchen, her hands on your hips, your head resting on her shoulder. The first time she heard it, she’d laughed, pulling you into her arms without hesitation, spinning you around as if no one was watching. You’d laughed, too, feeling weightless, like the rest of the world didn’t exist beyond that moment.

The memory is so vivid, you can almost feel her now. The heat of her body pressed against yours, the way her breath would ghost across your neck as she whispered something silly, something that would make you giggle, even though the moment was already perfect. She’d twirl you around, her fingers never leaving your waist, like you were the only thing tethering her to the ground.

You open your eyes and sigh, the weight of it all pulling you back to reality.

But there’s no Alexia here. Just the music. Just the memories. Just you.

The room fades around you, swallowed up by the growing intensity of the music. The song on the record shifts, and with it comes a memory so vivid it pulls you in before you can stop it. It’s one of the earliest memories you have of her, back when things were new and easy. Back when every look, every touch felt electric, charged with possibility.

It was your first time at one of her games. You remember the nerves—the restless energy in your stomach, unsure of what to expect. Sure, you’d seen Alexia play on TV, heard her name shouted in crowded rooms, but watching her from a distance was nothing compared to being there in person, seeing her live in her element, where she shined brightest.

The stadium was a sea of faces, all of them there for her, but you felt like the only one who mattered. There, in the cold evening air, with your heart beating faster than it should, you found your seat and waited, the anticipation growing with every passing minute.

The moment she stepped onto the pitch, everything else fell away.

Alexia was magnetic. There was no other way to describe it. The way she moved—so effortlessly, so fluid—it was like watching art in motion. Each step was deliberate, each pass precise. It wasn’t just a game to her. It was something deeper, something that coursed through her veins like it was what she was made for. She owned the field, commanding it with a quiet intensity, and you couldn’t take your eyes off her. You didn’t want to.

For the first few minutes, you were just another face in the crowd, just another fan cheering her name. But then it happened. That moment when she looked up, searching the stands, and her eyes found yours.

It was like time stopped.

You froze, breath catching in your throat, heart hammering against your ribs. Alexia smiled—a soft, private smile that didn’t belong to the roaring crowd or the flashing cameras. It was yours, and yours alone. And in that moment, it felt like nothing else mattered. Not the game, not the people, not the pressure that came with being Alexia Putellas. Just her and you, sharing a moment that felt sacred in a sea of chaos.

You could still remember how your chest tightened at the sight of her. The way your pulse quickened as she ran down the field, weaving between defenders, her eyes sharp, focused, a silent determination etched on her face. Every movement was so deliberate, so graceful, like she was painting something only she could see. And every time she touched the ball, it felt like a promise—a promise that she would win, for you, for both of you.

As the game wore on, the energy in the stadium shifted, growing more intense with every passing minute. The crowd’s cheers were deafening, their voices rising with the action on the pitch. But you weren’t focused on the game. You were focused on her.

You could see the exhaustion starting to creep into her movements, the weight of the match bearing down on her. But she didn’t slow down. She pushed harder, her body moving with a fierce determination that was both beautiful and heartbreaking. Because you knew—somewhere deep down—you knew she wasn’t just fighting for the win. She was fighting for you. For this. For the life she was trying to balance between the demands of her career and the fragile, growing thing between you.

Then it happened.

A breakaway.

Alexia darted through the defense, her eyes locked on the goal. The crowd surged around you, their voices a tidal wave of anticipation, but all you could hear was your heartbeat, pounding in your ears as you watched her close in on the moment. It was as if the world had narrowed to just her and the ball, and then—

She struck.

The sound of the ball hitting the back of the net was almost drowned out by the roar of the crowd, but you heard it. You felt it. It was victory—sharp, sweet, and undeniable. The stadium erupted around you, people leaping to their feet, cheering her name. And amidst it all, she turned, her eyes finding yours once again, that same soft smile tugging at her lips.

It was for you. The goal, the smile, the unspoken promise between you—it was all for you.

You stood, your legs trembling slightly from the rush of adrenaline, unable to stop the grin that spread across your face. It was impossible not to be swept up in her energy, in the joy radiating from her like sunlight after a long storm. For a moment, it felt like nothing could touch you. Like you were invincible, riding the high of her victory as if it were your own.

After the game, you lingered by the stadium entrance, waiting for her. The night air was cool against your skin, a welcome relief from the heat that still pulsed in your veins. The minutes stretched on, each one a little heavier than the last, until finally, you saw her.

She emerged from the locker room, still in her kit, her hair damp from the shower, strands falling into her eyes in that careless way you loved so much. Her cheeks were flushed, not from exertion but from the glow of the win, her confidence radiating like a halo around her.

When she spotted you, her face softened, the sharp edges of the competitive athlete melting away. She was just Alexia again. Your Alexia.

“Hey,” she greeted, her voice low and a little rough from the match. There was a hint of vulnerability in her eyes, like she was unsure of what came next, even after all that had passed between you during the game. “Did you—?”

“You were amazing,” you cut her off, shaking your head in disbelief. “Like…breathtaking.”

The corner of her mouth lifted, that crooked smile that always made your heart skip a beat. She stepped closer, her hand brushing against yours in that familiar, gentle way that was more intimate than anything else. Her fingers curled around yours, and you squeezed her hand, feeling the warmth of her skin, the slight tremor in her grip from the adrenaline that still hadn’t faded.

“I wanted you to see this,” she said softly, her eyes searching yours. “I wanted you to understand…this part of me.”

You nodded, unable to find the right words to respond. Because how could you explain to her that you didn’t just understand this part of her—you loved it? You loved all of her, even the parts that scared you, the parts that took her away from you for weeks at a time. You loved the way she poured her soul into her sport, the way she gave everything, even when there was nothing left for herself.

“I’m proud of you,” you whispered, your voice cracking slightly. “So proud.”

Alexia’s hand tightened around yours, her eyes softening with something that looked like relief. “Thank you,” she breathed, her forehead resting gently against yours. “I’m proud of you too.”

You smiled at that, feeling a strange sense of peace settle over you. In that moment, it didn’t matter that the rest of the world was watching her, or that her life was so much bigger than you could ever be. All that mattered was this—her, you, and the quiet understanding that whatever came next, you’d face it together.

But now, sitting here, listening to the vinyl spin, the memory feels bittersweet. Because somewhere along the way, the promise you’d felt that night slipped through your fingers. The connection that had felt so solid, so unbreakable, had started to fray at the edges, pulled thin by the relentless demands of her career, by the endless distance that seemed to grow between you.

And even though you told yourself it would be enough—her love, her smiles, the quiet moments you stole between the chaos—you can’t shake the feeling that something is missing now. That maybe, just maybe, the space between you has become too wide to cross.

The soft hum of the vinyl fades into the background as your thoughts drift, wandering through the memories you’ve been holding onto so tightly. It's strange how the things that once brought you so much comfort—like the music, the photos, the laughter you once shared—now weigh heavy on your chest, like they’re relics of something you can’t quite touch anymore.

It’s been weeks since you last saw Alexia. Weeks of lonely nights spent with your phone in your hand, wondering if you should call, if you should say something—anything—to bridge the ever-widening distance between you. But every time you pull up her name, your thumb hovering over the screen, something stops you.

Maybe it’s fear. Fear that the space between you has grown too vast to close with a simple text. Or maybe it’s the nagging doubt that’s been creeping in lately—the doubt that maybe you’re not enough for her anymore. Not enough to compete with the whirlwind that is her life, her career, her success.

You hate thinking that way. You hate feeling like you’re waiting in the wings of her life, a spectator in a relationship that once made you feel so alive. But you can’t shake the sensation that you’re slowly being left behind, even though you’re desperately trying to hold on.

The apartment feels colder now, as if the memories of her have seeped out of the walls, leaving only emptiness in their wake. You wrap your arms around yourself, pulling the blanket tighter as if that might somehow fill the void she’s left behind. But it doesn’t. It never does.

She’s always on your mind. Even when you’re not actively thinking about her, she lingers in the back of your thoughts like a half-finished melody. You can hear her laugh, see the way her eyes crinkle at the corners when she smiles, feel the warmth of her hand slipping into yours. But those memories feel so far away now, like they belong to someone else—someone who existed in a time when things were simpler, when you weren’t questioning every unreturned text, every missed call.

You try to tell yourself that it’s just temporary, that this is just a rough patch. After all, Alexia has always had a demanding schedule. It’s part of who she is, part of what makes her so extraordinary. You knew that from the beginning—knew that she would always be pulled in a thousand different directions. But back then, it didn’t feel like a threat. Back then, it felt like you could weather anything, as long as you had each other.

But now… now, it feels different.

The record clicks as the needle reaches the end, the soft static filling the room, pulling you out of your thoughts. You sit up, the sudden silence amplifying the emptiness you’ve been trying to ignore all night. The apartment feels too big without her, too quiet, and the loneliness presses in around you, suffocating.

You reach for your phone again, your hand trembling slightly as you scroll through the messages. Her name is at the top, of course. There are texts from her—short, sweet messages telling you she misses you, that she can’t wait to come home. You read them over and over, hoping that somehow they’ll soothe the ache in your chest. But they’re not enough.

Because you want more than just texts. You want her. You want her here, beside you, her arms wrapped around you, her voice soft in your ear as she tells you about her day. You want the little moments—the mornings spent tangled in the sheets, the evenings spent cooking dinner together, the quiet laughter that filled the spaces between words. You want all of her, not just the parts that she can give when she’s not busy being someone else’s hero.

You sigh, leaning back against the couch, the weight of it all pressing down on you. This isn’t the first time you’ve felt this way, but it’s never been this intense before. The doubt, the longing, the frustration—it’s all building up inside you, threatening to spill over. You don’t know how much longer you can keep it all inside.

Your fingers hover over the keyboard, typing out a message you’ve written a hundred times before.

"I miss you."

Three simple words. Words you’ve said to her countless times, but now, they feel heavier than ever. You stare at the screen, your thumb hovering over the send button. Part of you hopes that this will be the message that changes things, that maybe she’ll respond with something that will make all of this feel worth it. But another part of you—the part that’s been growing louder and more insistent—wonders if sending this message will only serve to highlight the growing gap between you.

Because as much as you miss her, you can’t shake the feeling that maybe she’s getting used to life without you.

That thought hits you harder than you expect, a cold rush of fear flooding your chest. You’ve been trying so hard to stay positive, to tell yourself that things will get better, that this is just a temporary phase. But the truth is, you don’t know that for sure. You don’t know what’s going through her mind when she’s out there, traveling from one city to the next, surrounded by people who worship her, who don’t see the side of her that you do. The side that’s vulnerable, that’s unsure, that needs someone to ground her.

And that’s the part that scares you the most. Because what if she doesn’t need you anymore?

You close your eyes, willing the tears to stay where they are. You’re not ready to face that possibility. Not yet.

But as the silence stretches on, broken only by the faint crackle of the record player, you start to wonder if maybe this is the beginning of the end. Maybe all those little moments you’ve been holding onto, all those memories you’ve been replaying in your mind, are just that—memories. Moments that belong to the past, not the future.

You stand up slowly, the blanket slipping from your shoulders as you make your way to the window. The city outside is alive, bustling with people, with life, but you feel so far removed from it all. You lean your forehead against the cool glass, staring out at the lights below. It’s strange how the world keeps moving, even when it feels like yours is standing still.

You wonder what Alexia is doing right now. Whether she’s thinking about you, too, or if she’s wrapped up in her world, too busy to notice the growing distance. You want to believe that she misses you as much as you miss her, but the longer this silence stretches between you, the harder it is to hold onto that belief.

Another message from her lights up your phone, and your heart skips a beat. You glance down at the screen, hoping for something more than the usual pleasantries. But it’s just a quick, “Training was tough today. I’ll call you tomorrow, love you.”

Your fingers tighten around the phone as you read the words. Tomorrow. It’s always tomorrow. Tomorrow she’ll call, tomorrow you’ll talk, tomorrow things will be better. But tomorrow never comes, and you’re left here, waiting in the space between promises and reality.

You type out a quick reply—something supportive, something sweet, because that’s what you do. You’ve always been her anchor, her steady ground when everything else is chaos. But right now, you feel like you’re drifting, and you’re not sure how to find your way back.

The music starts again, the same song as before, its familiar melody wrapping around you like a bittersweet embrace. You let the sound wash over you, filling the empty spaces where her voice should be, and for a moment, you allow yourself to sink into the feeling of it all—the longing, the love, the uncertainty.

Because that’s all you have right now.

The city lights blur through the window as you stand there, forehead still pressed against the cold glass, trying to calm the storm of thoughts swirling in your mind. You’ve spent so long in this space—this liminal place between hope and despair—that it’s starting to feel like home. A home you never wanted.

Your phone buzzes in your hand again, but this time, it’s not a message. It’s her.

Alexia.

The name lights up the screen, and for a moment, you just stare at it, heart pounding in your chest. You weren’t expecting her to call tonight—not after the brief message about tomorrow—but here she is, reaching out when you were least prepared.

Your thumb hesitates over the green button. Every muscle in your body feels tense, as if you’re holding your breath, unsure if you’re ready for this conversation. Because deep down, you know it’s not just going to be small talk this time. It can’t be. There’s too much unsaid between you now, too much that’s been left hanging in the silence.

With a shaky breath, you press accept.

“Hey,” you say, your voice coming out softer than you intended, almost fragile.

“Hey,” Alexia replies, and you can hear the weariness in her voice, the strain of a long day clinging to her like an invisible weight. There’s a pause, the quiet stretch of unspoken words filling the space between you, and for a second, you wonder if she can feel the tension too.

“How was training?” you ask, trying to keep your voice light, though it feels like a thin veil over the emotions bubbling beneath the surface.

“Exhausting,” she admits with a sigh, “but that’s not really why I’m calling.”

Your heart skips a beat at her words, the air in the room suddenly feeling too thick. You can hear the seriousness in her tone, the shift that tells you this conversation isn’t going to be easy.

“I’ve been thinking about us,” she continues, her voice quieter now, like she’s testing the waters. “About…everything.”

You swallow hard, feeling the weight of those words settle over you. This is it. This is the conversation you’ve been avoiding, the one you’ve been dreading but also needing. Because no matter how much you’ve tried to pretend that things are fine, that this is just a rough patch, deep down you know that something has to change. You just don’t know if you’re ready to face what that change might look like.

“Me too,” you admit, your voice barely above a whisper. You bite your lip, trying to gather your thoughts, trying to find the right words that won’t sound like accusations, like blame. “It’s just… it feels like we’re losing each other, Alexia.”

The words hang in the air, raw and vulnerable. It’s the truth you’ve been holding back for so long, the fear that’s been gnawing at you in the quiet moments when she’s not around.

There’s a soft exhale on the other end of the line, and for a moment, you think maybe she didn’t hear you. But then she speaks, and her voice is full of something you didn’t expect: guilt.

“I know,” she says softly, her voice breaking slightly. “I know I haven’t been around as much, and I hate that. I hate that I’ve been making you feel like this, like I’m slipping away.”

You close your eyes, letting her words sink in. There’s something comforting in hearing her acknowledge it, in knowing that you’re not imagining the distance between you. But it doesn’t erase the ache in your chest, the loneliness that’s been gnawing at you for weeks.

“I don’t blame you,” you say, your voice trembling despite your best efforts to stay composed. “I know how important your career is. I’ve always known. But sometimes it feels like... like I’m just waiting for you to have time for me. And it’s hard, Alexia. It’s really hard.”

“I don’t want you to feel that way,” she whispers, and there’s a heaviness in her voice that makes your heart clench. “I never wanted to make you feel like you’re not important. You are. You’re everything to me. It’s just—” She pauses, searching for the right words, the frustration clear in her tone. “It’s hard to balance everything. The games, the training, the travel… Sometimes I feel like I’m failing you, like I’m failing us.”

Her vulnerability catches you off guard. You can hear the strain in her voice, the cracks in the facade she’s been holding up for so long. She’s always been so strong, so composed, but now, hearing her admit that she’s struggling too, it hits you in a way you didn’t expect.

“I didn’t realize,” you murmur, your heart softening just a little. “I didn’t know it was so hard for you too.”

There’s another pause, and when she speaks again, her voice is quieter, more tentative. “It’s just… I’m scared, you know? Scared that one day you’ll wake up and realize that this—my life, my schedule, everything—is too much for you. That you’ll get tired of waiting for me, tired of not having me around when you need me.”

Her words hit you hard, because they echo the fears that have been swirling in your own mind. But hearing her say it, hearing the raw honesty in her voice, makes you realize that this isn’t just about you. It’s about both of you, trying to navigate a love that’s complicated by the realities of her career and the demands that come with it.

“I’m scared too,” you confess, your voice barely a whisper. “I’m scared that one day, you’ll realize that maybe you don’t need me as much as you used to. That maybe your life is easier without trying to fit me into it.”

The silence that follows is heavy, the weight of all the unsaid things pressing down on both of you. But instead of making you feel more distant, it somehow makes you feel closer, like you’re both standing on the same edge, looking down at the same uncertain future.

“I do need you,” she says finally, her voice soft but firm. “I don’t want to do this without you. I don’t want a life where you’re not part of it. But I also know that I haven’t been showing you that. I know that I’ve been letting you down.”

You sit down on the edge of the couch, your heart pounding as her words settle over you. There’s a deep ache in your chest, but it’s mixed with something else now—something warmer, something that feels like hope.

“I miss you,” you say again, the words spilling out before you can stop them. “I miss us. I miss what we used to have before everything got so... complicated.”

“I miss you too,” she replies, and there’s a rawness in her voice that makes your throat tighten. “I hate that I’ve been so far away, not just physically, but emotionally. And I don’t know how to fix it overnight, but I want to try. I need to try.”

The honesty in her words cracks something open inside you, and for the first time in weeks, you feel like you’re finally on the same page. Like you’re both acknowledging the distance between you, but also agreeing to fight for what you have.

“I don’t need everything to be perfect,” you say softly. “I just need to know that we’re in this together. That I’m not the only one holding on.”

“You’re not,” she promises, and there’s a steadiness in her voice now, a determination that wasn’t there before. “You’re not alone in this. I’m here, and I’m not going anywhere.”

You close your eyes, letting the weight of her words sink in. It’s not a perfect solution, and you know there’s still a long way to go. But it’s a start. A step toward finding each other again, toward rebuilding the connection that’s been fraying at the edges.

“I love you,” you whisper, your voice breaking with the weight of everything you’ve been holding back.

“I love you too,” Alexia replies, and this time, the words feel like a promise.

The next few days feel different.

There’s still the same space between you and Alexia—miles of distance, long hours, and time zones that never seem to align—but now, there’s something else. A thread, thin but unbreakable, pulling you closer together with every word exchanged. The tension that once filled the silence between you has eased, replaced by something softer, something that feels like hope.

She calls more often now. The messages come in with regularity—small updates on her day, pictures of sunsets and unfamiliar cities, jokes that make you smile in the quiet of your empty apartment. It’s not perfect. You still miss her, still feel the ache of wanting her beside you. But there’s a comfort in knowing that she’s trying, in knowing that she’s holding on just as tightly as you are.

It’s late one evening, almost midnight, when your phone buzzes again. You’re wrapped up in a blanket on the couch, the low hum of a record spinning in the background, when you see her name flash on the screen. It’s a video call this time.

Your heart flutters as you swipe to accept, the familiar chime of the call connecting filling the room. And then she’s there, her face filling the screen—messy hair, no makeup, her eyes soft with exhaustion but also warmth.

“Hi,” she says, her voice a little crackly through the phone, but it’s enough to make your heart skip.

“Hi,” you whisper back, your lips tugging into a smile. Just seeing her like this—raw, unguarded—makes you feel like the distance between you is shrinking, even if only for a moment.

“I miss your face,” Alexia murmurs, her own smile tugging at the corners of her lips. “It’s not the same seeing you on a screen.”

You chuckle softly, curling deeper into the blanket. “Tell me about it. I’m starting to think I’ve forgotten what you look like in person.”

She lets out a small laugh, but there’s a seriousness in her eyes that lingers. “Not for long, though.”

Your brow furrows, and before you can ask what she means, she shifts slightly, glancing at something off-camera. When she looks back, there’s a mischievous glint in her eyes.

“I’ve been thinking a lot, you know?” she starts, her tone soft but full of intent. “About what you said. About how we’ve been drifting. I don’t want that anymore. I don’t want to keep waiting for ‘tomorrow’ to fix things. I want to make it better now.”

Your heart speeds up, her words sinking in. “Alexia, I—”

“I’m coming home,” she interrupts, her voice steady and sure. “Tomorrow. No more delays, no more excuses. I’ve talked to the team, and I’m taking a break for a few days. I just want to be with you.”

You blink, caught off guard. “Wait—tomorrow?”

She nods, a small, almost sheepish smile playing on her lips. “Yeah. I’ll be there by the afternoon. I know it won’t fix everything, but… I miss you. I need to be with you. We can figure the rest out together.”

The rush of emotion that washes over you is overwhelming. For so long, you’ve been holding onto the idea of her coming back, but it always felt like something just out of reach. And now, hearing her say it—hearing her make this promise—it feels real in a way that fills your chest with warmth.

“You’re really coming home?” you whisper, almost afraid to believe it.

“I am,” she says softly. “For as long as you’ll have me.”

A laugh bubbles up in your throat, tears prickling at your eyes. “I think I can make room for you.”

Alexia’s smile widens, and there’s a lightness in her expression that you haven’t seen in weeks. “Good. Because I’ve missed your cooking. And I’m pretty sure I left one of my hoodies at your place, and I want it back.”

You roll your eyes, but there’s a joy bubbling in your chest that you can’t contain. “I’ll think about it.”

The conversation continues, lighter now, filled with soft laughter and quiet jokes. For the first time in a long time, it feels easy again. The weight of the distance, the uncertainty, all of it starts to melt away as you talk about nothing and everything. The connection between you feels stronger, more tangible, and you hold onto it, refusing to let go.

When the call ends, the apartment feels a little less lonely. You curl up in bed, her promise echoing in your mind, and for the first time in weeks, you fall asleep with a smile on your face.

The apartment feels warm the next day, glowing with a soft light from the fading afternoon sun that streams through the windows. It’s quiet, save for the gentle crackle of the vinyl spinning on the record player in the corner. You’d put it on earlier, a song that holds so many memories between the two of you. The room smells faintly of vanilla and clean linen, and for the first time in what feels like forever, there’s a stillness in the air that brings peace instead of loneliness.

Alexia stands in front of you, her hand in yours, as you both sway softly to the rhythm of the song. You catch her eyes, a small smile tugging at the corners of her lips as she pulls you closer, her other hand settling against the small of your back.

Neither of you says anything. You don’t need to.

There’s a tenderness in the silence between you now, a shared understanding that doesn’t need words. The conversation you’d had—the raw, vulnerable honesty—has left you both feeling lighter, like a weight has been lifted off your shoulders. And now, with her here, the familiar melody wrapping around you, everything feels right in a way it hasn’t for so long.

The song playing is slow and melodic, each note weaving through the room like it was made for this moment, for you and her. The kind of song you’d listened to on lazy Sunday mornings, back when time wasn’t something you worried about. Before the distance.

Alexia tightens her hold on you, her body pressing close as her forehead rests against yours. The gentle brush of her skin sends a shiver through you, but not from cold—from the quiet intensity of the moment, the electricity humming between you. It’s the first time in weeks you’ve felt this close to her, not just physically but emotionally.

You close your eyes, breathing in the familiar scent of her—something warm and soft, like home. The vinyl’s soft crackle and the quiet strumming of the guitar fill the air, creating a cocoon around you both.

“I missed this,” Alexia whispers, her breath brushing against your lips, her eyes still closed. “Just being here with you. Like this.”

Your heart swells at her words, and you lean into her, pressing your face into the curve of her neck. “I missed this too,” you murmur, your voice barely above a whisper, the emotions threatening to spill over.

For a while, you just sway like that, foreheads pressed together, hands resting on each other’s bodies. It’s a slow dance, the kind you fall into when time doesn’t matter, when the only thing that exists is the warmth of her touch and the steady rhythm of her breathing. The world outside feels distant, like it can’t reach you here, in this small bubble of peace you’ve found together.

The song shifts slightly, a new verse playing, and Alexia’s hand slowly slides up your back, her fingers tracing a path up to your shoulder before she gently lifts your chin to meet her gaze. Her eyes are soft, deep brown pools filled with something you haven’t seen in a while—a kind of certainty, a promise that she’s here, and she’s not leaving.

“I’m sorry for everything,” she says, her voice barely a whisper between the notes. “For making you feel like I was slipping away. I never meant to.” Her words are quiet but heavy, carrying the weight of all the moments that had felt so distant, so full of silence.

You shake your head softly, your forehead brushing against hers as you do. “We both made mistakes,” you reply, your voice gentle but firm. “But we’re here now, right? We’re fixing it.”

She nods, a small, grateful smile playing on her lips. “Yeah, we are.”

The music continues to fill the room, the crackling of the vinyl blending with the soft melody of the song. Alexia’s arms wrap around you fully, pulling you against her chest, and you let your hands rest on her waist, fingers lightly tracing the fabric of her shirt.

Her breath slows, and for a moment, you can feel the beat of her heart through her chest, steady and sure, like it’s syncing with the rhythm of the song. There’s something so intimate about this—no grand gestures, no need for words—just the quiet presence of being with each other, of knowing that after everything, after all the distance and the doubts, you’ve both chosen to stay.

As the song winds down, the notes fading into the background, you look up at her, catching her gaze again. There’s a softness there, a vulnerability that mirrors your own, and before you can think twice, you lean in and press your lips to hers. It’s a slow, lingering kiss, full of all the unsaid things that have been building between you for so long. A kiss that speaks of forgiveness, of love, of the quiet promise that you’re not letting go.

When you pull back, Alexia’s smile is small but real, her fingers gently brushing a strand of hair from your face. “I love you,” she whispers, the words full of warmth and certainty.

“I love you too,” you reply, the weight of the words settling comfortably between you, like they’ve found their rightful place again.

The vinyl spins to a stop, the quiet crackle filling the room as the music fades. But neither of you moves. You stay wrapped in each other’s arms, swaying gently to the rhythm of a song only the two of you can hear. The city outside hums with life, but in this moment, it’s just you and her, dancing in the quiet, letting the world melt away.

Alexia leans her forehead against yours again, her eyes closing as she holds you close. “I’m not going anywhere,” she whispers softly, the words like a promise.

And as you stand there together, wrapped in each other’s warmth, you know that this is what love is—messy, complicated, sometimes painful, but always worth fighting for. You tighten your hold on her, your fingers brushing her back as you sway gently to the silence.

Right now, in this moment, everything feels like it’s falling into place. And it’s enough.

-

Note: I've been experimenting with a new writing style that uses a lot more words than I typically do. l'd love to know if this is the kind of writing you'd like to see more of in the future.

[neil-gaiman]

I got to see you tonight, you, little you all the way up, from the penultimate row of the circle section of seats. Row W seat 45. In the opera house that is, and when I left I looked back to marvel at it at 11 pm at night.

It was illuminated by the city, a bat flew above I could make out as well as I made you out down on stage, glowing in light, and I like to believe the bat sang; perhaps of umbrellas.

I have wanted to message you. I have spent hours studying your tumbler reblogs and likes (I google you♪) and QnAs and don't dare ask about good omens. You've heard it enough and if you don't know that it will end in a garden just like it began then what do I know. I've never had enough of an excuse before...

Before tonight; so here I am in your inbox to say I really adored your poem written on the 26th of January, 2011 did you say? It really moved me and made something felt heard that I long to hear screamed from all.

You wouldn't of seen me crying, and I kept it as quiet as possible in hopes no one around me heard either. My heart couldn't hold all the vibrations, the beautiful and elegant yet wild Fourplay, and the song the bat in your chest sang that I got to hear was all too full and heavy and light and joyful for me. Little me in the back, with no date, with Shaun tans older work (the arrival) in ink on my flesh, with a copy of equal rites in my bag that if for some random chance I bumped into you, British you in my city, I would bother and beg you to sign it, plagiarizing Terry's signature. And maybe even ask you , if it wasn't too much trouble, to hug it for me.

I forgot the exact phrase but was it the fight of flesh? Something about flesh that meant something similar to pickling and tickling. I really quite liked that bit too. I enjoyed almost all of it, and wanted to apologise for how dead the packed house was. I was too nervous to stand for your final applause; I can only assume everyone being in THE Sydney Opera house in front of THE Neil Gaiman and THE fourplay quartett was, and was saddened to see not many pick up on your hints to beg you all for more. It was a sad walk back to the mic I must say. Not on your shoulders mind you, your wordcraft made the evening a magical memory I will not forget it. Thank you very kindly Neil ♡

You are so sweet. Thank you. (Don't worry. We didn't have anything left for another encore, and we had a curfew so had to be off the stage.)

I'll check on the lyric and let you know in a reblog.

[dorotheataylor]

Back to December

Pairing- Geto Suguru x Fem!Reader

Summary- You broke up with him because you thought he deserved someone better than you. But here you stand, outside his door, apologising for that night, after realising you loved him too much to let him go. Based on Back to December (Taylor’s Version) by Taylor Swift.

Warnings- angstttt but fluff at the end, hurt/comfort, no curses!au, swearing (maybe), slight ooc suguru (hes called clumsy hehe), probably my english lol.

Word count- 2.3k (excluding lyrics)

A/N- atp yall just know how much big of a swiftie I am lol. So here’s a new fic based on another taylor song haha. And from now on I will write for JJK fandom too coz i’m obsessed lmao. Let me know if you find any mistakes coz this isn’t proofread and hope y’all enjoy.

Knock. Knock. Knock.

You knocked three times on the door of the house you knew all too well as you picked your nails.

Will he want to see you? Will he shout at you? Will he tell you to get lost? Whatever he does, you knew you deserved it.

You stood outside his door impatiently, nerves getting the best of you while you waited for him to open the door. You could hear things falling down from behind it.

You couldn’t help but chuckle. He was always the clumsy one. One of his things which you missed too much. Your eyes fell on thought of this. Oh how much you wished for a change in your mind back then.

You heard the lock of the door being undone and you started to freak out from inside. Was it a good idea to come here? Maybe. You were about to find out.

“Sorry for the delay. I was caught up-” You heard his voice quiet down when he saw you. God how much you missed his voice. You could listen to his voice every second of the day if possible.

You’ve been good, busier than ever

"Y/N," he breathed, his voice barely above a whisper as he took in your presence on his doorstep, as if he was making sure he wasn’t hallucinating.

The way he said your name, ached your heart. Because it wasn’t filled with love or warmth as before, instead it was more like recognising a stranger.

You took a deep breath before speaking, “long time no see, Suguru.” You smiled slightly.

He couldn’t believe it. He never thought he’d ever see you again after that unfaithful night. The wishes he made to see you every night before he went to bed actually came true. He could actually hear your voice after whole six months. He felt like he was about to cry.

Your guard is up and I know why

All he wanted to do at this moment was to take you in his arms and never let you go again. But he knew he couldn’t. What if you were here to make things even more awful than they already were? He couldn’t handle another heartbreak. So he stood his ground and decided to talk to you in a civil way.

“Come inside. It’ll start s-snowing soon.” He said, mentally cursing himself for stammering as he stepped aside to let you in.

“Thank you.” You muttered before entering his house. The familiar feeling came back to you. The aura and memories of his house, where you had spent countless nights together crashed into your mind like ocean waves. It was overwhelming and you did your best not to burst into tears.

“I’ll bring you something to drink. You can make yourself comfortable till then.” You heard him speak as he quickly walked into the kitchen.

Because the last time you saw me

Is still burned in the back of your mind

You knew he was doing his best to avoid a more than casual conversation with you. Because the last time you had talked, things turned bitter.

You gave me roses and I left them there to die

You still remembered that day like the back of your hand. He had showed up at your house with roses to surprise you and take you out on a surprise date. And you, being a stupid person, ruined it all.

“Here. I didn’t have anything else except for hot chocolate plus I know how much you love it.” He said handing you the cup filled with hot chocolate, his voice becoming a soft mutter at the last part.

‘He still remembers my likes and dislikes.’ You thought as you smiled softly at him and took the cup, your hands brushing a little. Your cheeks immediately turn red as you tried to hide them, while Suguru thanked the gods that his red cheeks won’t be obvious because it’s winter.

I’d go back to December, turn around and make it all right

But you knew him. You were slightly relieved you still had some effects on him like before. How much you regretted leaving him like that. If only you could go back time and make things right.

You took a sip of your hot chocolate before speaking, “thanks for the hot chocolate, Suguru.”

Geto thought he’d just die right now. The way you said his name, it made him want to forget everything that happened and just hold you into his arms, never letting you go again. But he knew he couldn’t do that.

After some long moments of silence, you decided to break it and said, “how have you been, Suguru?”

“I’ve been- good.” He said with a pause in between. He was lying, but he didn’t want you to know his mental state ever since you had left. “What about you?”

You couldn’t repeat his answer for this question, because you knew it was far from the truth. You couldn’t quite recall the last time you slept peacefully. Maybe it was when you were in Suguru’s arms, safe and loved.

Staying up playing back myself leaving

Your mind replayed memories of that unfaithful night, as if trying to torture you for what you had done. It had started to hurt physically. How much you just wanted apologise and hold him into your arms. But you knew you had lost that right. Why? Because of your stupid insecurities.

You had been in a few relationships in the past apart from Geto. And you were always called out for every little thing you did. Whether it was from the way you ate, or the way you talked, they’d make sure to remind you that you weren’t enough and weird, until they all left you alone. This lead you to believe the same, that you were the problem.

That was until you met Suguru. He was everything you could ask in a man. He was charming, a true gentleman, kind and caring boyfriend who never failed to remind you how much you mean to him.

And I think about Summer, all the beautiful times

You often daydreamed about all your memories from your relationship, from sneaking out at night to late night car drives, from celebrating each other’s birthdays to forgetting plans you’d made with your other friends. Your relationship with him was something you read in books about.

You still remembered the day when you realised that he was the guy you were going to marry someday. You had overheard him talking to Gojo about you. You hadn’t meant to eavesdrop but when he mentioned your name, your ears had perked up. And the way be kept on talking about how amazing you were and how much he loved you, you knew he was the one for you.

Then the cold came, the dark days when fear crept right into my mind

But of course you had to ruin it all. The ‘what if’ thoughts came back to you. The thought of losing him because you weren’t good enough for him, scared you. You had told him about your past relationships, and he always reminded you that you are more than enough for him and he loves you with all of his heart.

Fuck your stupid negativity. You tried to believe him, you really did. But your mind wouldn’t let you. So it lead you to the one thing which you knew you were going to regret for the rest of your life. You let him go. And you hated yourself for it.

You gave me all your love and all I gave you was goodbye

You still remembered the way his face had immediately fallen the moment you spoke those words. He had tried to reason with you, but you wouldn’t listen. And you had slammed the door shut on his face.

Geto didn’t stop bombarding your phone with countless texts and missed calls for days. But you didn’t reply to any of them. Until one day he stopped. Maybe he realised that he was just wasting time being after you. Maybe he realised that you were the problem after all.

It turns out freedom ain’t nothing but missing you

Wishing I’d realised what I had when you were mine

You thought you had did the right thing but turns out, you didn’t. You had only made things worse for both of you. Because you know what they say, you only realise the value of something when its gone. And it turns out that you had loved him too much. You couldn’t let him go. Because you had realised that he was too precious for you to let go and you couldn’t survive without him.

So here you were, six months later, on his couch, drinking hot chocolate. You slowly came out of your thoughts and said the only thing which came into your mind, “I’m sorry.”

To say Geto was surprised was an understanding. He expected anything but an apology from you tonight. Blame him for being conscious and hurt. He didn’t say anything, giving the cue to continue.

“I’m so sorry, Suguru.” You started, trying your best not to sob, “I know this is probably the last thing you expect from me and won’t believe me but I mean it. I’m really sorry. I’m such a fucked up person, who always makes things worse, ruins perfectly going on lives of people, who always lives in self-doubts.”

“Y/N, I-”, Geto started to say something but you cut him off before he could say it.

“Please let me finish.” Geto nodded in response.

I miss your tan skin, your sweet smile, so good to me so right

And how you held me in your arms that September night, the first time you ever saw me cry

“I miss everything about you, about us. I miss how every morning you didn’t fail to wish me ‘good morning’, I miss how you never forgot to check up on me, I miss how you always found a way to make me feel special. I miss how you always held me close to you whenever I didn’t feel like myself. And most of all, I miss the way you used to love me.” You said, tears now falling uncontrollably from your eyes but you don’t care, determined to make things right.

I’d go back in time and change it but I can’t

So you continued, “thing is that I love you, Suguru Geto. And I love you too much to let you go. I made a stupid move by letting you go when all I wanted to do was hold you into my arms. And I hate myself for it. These past six months, I’ve been terrible. There’s not been a single day where I have not wished for myself to be somehow able to go back in time and make things right, stop myself from leaving. But I know I can’t.” You took a deep breath.

So if the chain is on your door I understand

“I know my actions are not something to be easily forgiven, but I promise to do anything to win your trust and love back. I’m willing to change. I’m willing to make things up with you. I swear that if you take me back again, I will love you right and never let you go. Because I have realised my life is nothing if you’re not in it. Please take me back, Suguru. I promise to prove myself worthy of your love.” You couldn’t speak anything after this, sobs continuously escaping your mouth.

Geto stood there, tears in his eyes as well, contemplating what to say. Your apology had caught him off guard, but he knew you had meant every word. He knew that his life was incomplete without you too.

But this is me swallowing my pride

You didn’t hear him speak for a good few minutes, so you take his silence as rejection. Of course he would reject you. You had hurt him, why would he want to get back with someone like you. You let out a shaky breath as a sigh, disappointment for you escaping through it as you stood up.

Standing in front of you saying I’m sorry for that night

You attempted to smile through your tears. If this was going to be the last time you see him, might as well say goodbye with a smile.

“I got your answer, Suguru. Thank you for giving me best moments of my life. Maybe I didn’t get to have you back, but at least I can live on with your memories. Maybe I-” You didn’t get to finish your sentence as you felt a pair of all too familiar lips on yours, shutting you up.

It turns our freedom ain’t nothing but missing you

You widened your eyes from surprise but immediately shut them as you kissed back, your hands reaching to hug his neck, bringing him closer to you. Suguru wrapped his one arm around your waist and other made its way in your nape, holding you just like he always used to.

Both of you could taste salty tears as you kissed, but weren’t sure who’s they were. All that mattered in that moment was the two of you. You poured all of your love, apprehensions, bottled up feelings for him, regrets into this kiss. He kissed you with same passion. As if your lips were the only thing he needed to survive.

Few moments later, Geto pulled away, foreheads still attached to yours, as he looked into your eyes. “Y/N, in these six months, you made me realise that the only thing which can complete me whole is you. Not getting to tell you these was tearing me apart. I thought I had lost you for good, but then you showed up at my door and all those feelings I had for you doubled. I love all of you, Y/N and I always will. And I’m willing to give us another chance, just promise me that you will talk to me next time you have those negative thoughts.”

Your heart melted hearing his words as you nodded, “I promise.”

Suguru ran his hand through your hair as he spoke again, “and I-I’ll need some time to completely forgive you. I hope you understand that. I’m just scared that you’ll leave me again.”

You quickly shook your head, “I mean it this time, Suguru. I’d never even dream of leaving you. I just got you back. And it’s okay. Take your time. I’m willing to wait for you, even if it is for an eternity.”

Suguru smiled at your words and pulled you into his chest as he swayed you slowly, holding you tightly close to him, and you finally felt complete again. You kissed his neck as you returned his gesture, silently promising him and yourself to never give up on him and let him go ever again.

I’d go back to December all the time

________________________________________

Ahhh I loved writing angst sm but it always breaks my heart if it doesn’t end with fluff. Anyways hope y’all liked this and if you want, you can send in request for JJK characters too!

(I might’ve gotten a little carried away at the end but i think it was worth it lmao)

[separatist-apologist]

My Whole Life Is Ruined

Summary: When you hold me, it holds me together, and you kiss me in a way that's gonna screw me up forever

Surprise @talons-and-teeth! I'm sorry for the wait- I was not your original secret santa. I pulled this together based on what I know about you and I hope you like it! @acotargiftexchange

Big thanks to @octobers-veryown for making a moodboard with practically no instructions other than one Taylor Swift lyric and the description "Azriel has been hiding the fact he's Gwyn's mate and they have sex about it."

--

Insomnia was nothing new. 

Gwyn couldn’t remember the last time she’d fully slept through the night. The past chased the present, running in circles as she ran after her tail, almost grasping it before she woke covered in a thin sheen of sweat. Sometimes, bathed in nothing but moonlight, Gwyn wondered if there would ever come a time when she didn’t dream of her sister, of a life long gone.

It didn’t rattle her as badly as it used to. Sitting in the bed Nesta had so graciously offered up, Gwyn pushed the blankets from her legs to let the cool, winter air caress her overheated skin. Leaving the library still felt like a picked over wound. She didn’t want to go back, cloistered away from her friends and the life she’d begun to enjoy living. That didn’t mean she wasn’t scared.

Anxiety seemed to thrum beside her heartbeat, a constant presence she could only just shake if she was otherwise occupied. Right then, in the dead of night, Gwyn felt it snake around her until it was wrapped tight around her throat, choking a scream that always seemed so close to escaping.

She didn’t bother changing out of her thin nightdress, certain neither Cassian or Nesta would be up this late. If they were even back—they’d gone to Hewn City that evening for some meeting with a Day Court prince, giving Gwyn full run of the House of Wind. Not that she did anything terribly interesting with all that power—Gwyn got a book and some hot chocolate and spent the night curled in a chair reading until she finally dragged herself into bed.

Maybe she should have trained on the roof first. Really worn herself down so her brain was too exhausted to conjure up memories of the past, all the while whispering of how she might have prevented it, if she’d only been stronger, smarter, cleverer. Forcing her to relive it, to pick it apart to see what could have been different.

That was exhausting, too.

Cold air hit her the moment she pushed open the door, howling a greeting that might have scared someone else off. Gwyn liked the biting cold, the raucous yelling, the silhouette of the mountains looming like shadows in the distance. A half moon poured light over the rooftop, causing sleeping weapons to glint beneath. Maybe, she thought ruefully, she should have put on socks. Hair caught against her lips, and as Gwyn worked to push it out of her face, wishing for a hair tie, too. 

It wasn’t too late and yet she was already here, wasn’t she? Might as well just power through, ignoring her discomfort like she was so accustomed to. The bite of cold was a reminder she’d survived—she was alive. So what if it burned a little? Sometimes Gwyn thought she fought better when she was in pain.

And more often than not, she suspected she deserved to feel it. That the curling peace was a mistake and everyone was going to realize what an imposter she was. They’d tell her she didn’t belong with them and cast her back out. Gwyn was always just waiting for it, a hammer that might fall at any given moment. 

A blade just against her neck, never quite striking.

Gwyn pulled out a dagger, her favored weapon, and held it for a moment in her hand. Nesta was all brute strength, and Emerie terrifying yet easy grace, but Gwyn liked to be the shadow in the dark. The knife at someone's side rather than a screaming sword coming for a person's throat. While Nesta and Emeries radiated the kind of beauty that made men cower, Gwyn liked to think she was sweeter, more unassuming. People looked at Nesta, at Emerie, and were taken by their perfection.

They looked at Gwyn and wondered why she was with them. So Gwyn trained harder, made herself someone that couldn’t be ignored. Not forever, anyway. She was good at hiding, besides, taking to trees, blending into the background so often that on more than one occasion, Cassian and Nesta didn’t realize Gwyn was in the room until she cleared her throat. 

Unbalanced, Gwyn took a second dagger and for a moment, was the wind itself. Recalling the movements Azriel had been teaching her, Gwyn stepped like a dance, twisting her body and slashing her blades against invisible foes.

A real ones, too. A shadow moved from the edge of the ring, catching her by surprise. Gwyn darted, and just as Azriel had taught her, grabbed them, slamming their body to the ground. It was thunder the way that massive, familiar form crashed against the world, a mighty god dragged from the heavens themselves.

Azriel groaned, eyes closed even as his hands grabbed her waist, holding her knee painfully against his ribs. “That was good,” he gasped, fingers curling into her skin. 

“I’m so sorry,�� she replied, dropping the blade she’d pressed to his throat. A thin line of blood snaked over golden, tattooed skin, staining the rather lovely black jacket he was wearing. Why was he up here, she wondered? Shouldn’t he be enjoying himself with his friends and family? 

Azriel swallowed hard, opening hazel eyes that cut through the otherwise oppressive dark to look at her.

“I’m not.”

And then he released her, letting her scramble backwards, heart thumping in her chest. Azriel didn’t move, wings spread wide around against the ground. He looked like a fallen angel and Gwyn was awed at the sight, the realization that it had been her who’d felled him. He was looking right back at her, his expression clouded by shadow. Was he angry? He said he wasn’t, but surely he didn’t appreciate being assaulted in his own home. 

Not that she saw much of him since she’d moved in. Azriel, who maintained a bedroom in the House of Wind, was suddenly gone and when Gwyn was really down, she sometimes thought it was because he didn’t like being around her. Here he was, though, clambering to his feet, his eyes sliding down her body. She could feel the heat of them like he was touching her skin and was grateful for a sudden burst of wind hitting her like a bucket of ice water.

Careful, she warned herself. 

It was hard, though. Anyone with eyes could see how beautiful Azriel was. She wasn’t stupid. It didn’t hurt that in her worst moment, Azriel’s had been the very first she’d seen. A savior—a dark angel, come to wreak bloody vengeance on her sister's behalf. It had been Morrigan who’d taken her away to safety, but when Gwyn thought about how she’d escaped, she always remembered Azriel’s curved, lethal blade, sliding cleanly through the bodies of the same males who had killed her sister.

She’d always been grateful to him for it, even if she’d never tell him. He’d never once looked at her like he remembered, had never betrayed an ounce of pity. She’d expected him to say something back when he’d first joined their training, wary and distant. And maybe he knew, because he kept his distance until it was safe, had held himself at an arm's length and let her decide how much or little of him she wanted. 

The problem was Azriel himself. Outside of being the most beautiful man he’d ever seen, he was just nice. Not in the way Cassian was, with big smiles and silly jokes, but with serious eyes and a dagger in hand, forcing her to move again and again and again. Your steps are off, Gwyn—you’ll get yourself killed that way. Eyes on your opponent, don’t look away. Hold your breath, don’t let them know you’re there.

Because he knew it mattered to her. That she wouldn’t be caught off guard ever again, that Gwyn would never let someone hurt her. Often, she wondered if he didn’t understand that pain, if it didn’t mirror some tragedy of his own. They didn’t talk about it—they didn’t need to. It was an understanding between them, something so intimate she would never share it with another living soul.

She kept waiting for Azriel to step back, to tell her she’d done enough, that she should finish with Cassian. He never did. Even when he was gone, Gwyn practiced knowing he’d want to see the progress she’d made while he was gone. And when he returned, he’d wait on the roof even when she’d flippantly told him it would be easier to just send word via letter.

I don’t mind waiting.

Those words still felt so charged to her. Like he was trying to say something else, eyes glittering and bright like the stars overheard. Gwyn pulled herself from her thoughts to look up at Azriel looming overhead, his wings flared around him as if he was trying to make himself seem larger. It was working—he was massive, muscular and tall and just like before, half fallen angel, half terrifying god come to earth so he might reign. 

“You look cold,” Azriel commented, caught looking at her. 

Gwyn put her hands on her hips. So what if he was? “I’m not.”

“Bullshit.”

Smothering a smile, Gwyn asked with faux outrage, “Are you calling me a liar?”

She swore the corners of his lips twitched. “To your face, even.”

“The cold doesn’t bother me,” Gwyn said, shifting from one leg to another, a gesture he seemed to register with sharp-eyed interest. Proof, she realized as his fingers began making quick work of his jacket. “No, that’s not—”

“Suck it up,” was Azriel’s dark voiced response, draping the warm jacket against her shoulders, leaving himself only in a black shirt stretched over his muscular torso. His eyes slid back down to her legs, lips flattening as he realized she was without shoes, too. “You’ll catch your death out here.”

Gwyn could smell the heady, masculine scent of him coming from the fabric, her arms far too small for the large holes. Still, she didn’t protest, turning to look toward the outline of the mountains instead.

“Maybe. But what a way to go.”

“It’s hardly heroic to die from the cold,” Azriel murmured, turning to follow her gaze. Did he know what she was thinking? How they had nearly died in the blood rite, thrown in wearing only a thin night dress against well-armed warriors? She wondered if Azriel would have found that heroic, even if it had been the cold that had gotten them.

Gwyn blew out a breath, the steam of air curling between them as one of his shadows darted out, illuminated by starlight. It wasn’t the first time and she wondered if they thought she, too, had a shadow for them to interact with.

Or if it meant something else.

Something more.

“Inside,” Azriel finally said, a gust of wind ruffling his night dark hair.

“You’re fussy tonight,” she grumbled, not protesting when his fingers pressed against the small of her back, pushing her toward the door. Heat pulsated from the touch, settling low in her stomach. “Did something happen?”

Azriel pulled open the door with his free hand, his touch never quite leaving. “No. Hewn City is unchanging.”

She glanced up at him, the light softening the harsh lines of his face. “Is that a good thing?”

“It’s predictable.”

“I want to see it,” Gwyn declared, though in truth she wasn’t entirely sure that was true. Still, the corners of Azriel’s mouth twitched a bit, as if the whole thing amused him. 

“You would devour them,” was his easy, good-natured response. “To their endless delight.”

“And yet I’ve been snubbed yet again,” she teased, elbowing him gently in the ribs. “Do I file my complaint with you…or…?”

“You were spared the grating presence of Vanserra,” Azriel said, cocking his head with a half smile. “But I will pass along your discontent to the High Lord.”

“Be sure that you do,” Gwyn replied, grinning by the time Azriel deposited her into a chair in the study. He didn’t go far, sitting on the arm, his wings draped behind them. She could see the flexing muscle of his thigh beneath his well-tailored pants. If she’d wanted, she could have touched him.

It was obscene how badly she wanted to. How she had to clench her fingers to fists to keep from reaching out, well aware that Azriel would withdraw entirely and, perhaps, never speak to her again. He’d been nothing if not unfailingly polite, besides…though…he had been looking at her in the clingy, short nightdress, hadn’t he? 

Just because you were cold, her mind reminded her. After all, she was still wearing his jacket. Gwyn shrugged out of it, heat blooming over her cheeks as she shoved it into his lap. There. She’d gotten to touch him without him knowing and give him back his jacket before she convinced herself to keep it.

And possibly sleep in it.

Azriel arched a dark brow, hazel eyes staring at the rumpled fabric now balled in his lap. “What did the jacket do to offend you?” he asked, taking it in broad, callused hands. He’d removed his siphons, leaving the scarred skin wholly on display. She wondered what had happened to him—and why. 

If he’d ever gotten his revenge for it.

“It’s yours—that’s enough,” she replied flippantly. Holding her gaze, Azriel picked up the jacket and brought it to his nose. Time seemed to stop, frozen entirely as she watched him do this.

And he watched her, daring her to say something. She opened her mouth, gaping, only to close it.

And Azriel smiled. Broad and unrestrained, as if he were so delighted he couldn’t help himself. Tilting his head toward the roof, he murmured, “House—some tea, if you don’t mind.”

Of course the house didn’t mind. Two cups of steaming tea rattled on the coffee table before them, complete with sugar and honey, if either of them wanted it.

Gwyn didn’t think she could pick up a cup without betraying the rattle of her hands. Why? Azriel had discarded the jacket casually, tossing it to another chair like it was uninteresting to him. And was he closer, now? His thigh was, she was certain, but had his arm always been behind her. If she moved a few inches, he could have slid into the seat to join her.

He could pull you into his lap if he wanted. 

Which, of course, he didn’t

Didn’t he?

“Why are you here?” she asked, hating that breathless quality of her voice. Azriel heard it, too, head snapping to the side, nose flared as though searching for something she couldn’t place. 

“I like to be near you,” he replied. He could have thrown her across the room and surprised her less. Once again, Gwyn opened her mouth only for no sound to leave her throat. 

“You—you’re never here,” she finally managed. Azriel leaned forward, the faelights gilding the dark ink of his tattoos scrawled over his biceps. He took one of the cups and handed it to her, fingers brushing her own.

“I can’t stand being around you,” was his maddening, level response. 

Gwyn’s stomach sank. “What?”

She couldn’t drink—not when such a strange admission hung between them. Azriel, so unused to verbosity, was now forced to explain himself. It occurred to her just as he turned fully to look at her, some of the color drained from his otherwise beautiful face, that perhaps he wanted this confrontation. She didn’t, though, and wished she could have told him so. Things were fine between them—distant, maybe, and filled with a lopsided yearning on her end, but that was better than whatever he was about to do.

Gwyn had the distinct feeling Azriel was about to crush her. Emotionally ruin her. Destroy her so recklessly there would be no coming back.

“You still don’t feel it?” he asked instead, running a frustrated hand through his hair. “After all this time?”

A new fear speared through her gut. There was only one thing Azriel could possibly feel—and one thing she could possibly not. Gwyn had to set the shaking cup of tea down before bolting from her chair, arms wrapped around her chest. 

“You don’t feel anything,” she declared, deciding if she felt nothing, neither did Azriel. 

Pain lanced across his expression, replaced by grim determination. As he stood, Gwyn knew Azriel wasn’t going to let it go until they both felt exactly as he did—until she felt the mating bond. 

Gwyn shook her head, backing away as he advanced. “Don’t do this, Azriel—”

“Is it that terrible, then?” he asked her, his low words filled with a familiar emotion. One she recognized all too well—the loathing, the self-hatred, the expectation that of course she would reject him. 

“It’s—” Gwyn couldn’t breathe for the closeness of him, for the wanting to touch him. And maybe she did feel it, in her way. Had felt it the moment he’d strode into that cursed, wrecked room looking like the god of vengeance. She’d merely been too hurt to know it, too broken, too emotionally devastated. He should have frightened her and he never had.

Even then, towering over her with his muscular frame, Gwyn didn’t flinch away. She merely met his gaze with blazing defiance.

“You’re wrong,” she told him, keeping her voice light as she pushed at his chest so she could slip around him. “Or mistaken. There is no bond and I’m certain if you saw a healer, they’d—” Azriel grabbed her wrist, spinning her so her back was pressed to the floral papered wall behind her. Dipping his head, Azriel ran his nose the length of her neck.

“You’re no mistake, Gwyn.”

“I am,” she whispered without meaning to. Azriel could do so much better. Surely…surely he wanted better. What had that been like for him, she wondered, and before she could stop herself, she added, “When did you feel it?”

Something primal flared in those bright eyes of his. “Dinner with Nesta and Cassian. You touched my hand and I…” Holding up the offending hand, Azriel flexed his fingers in memory. “I felt the snap.”

That had been almost a year. It had been the last time Azriel had dinner with all of them, and right after she’d formally moved into the House of Wind. Gwyn still remembered that night—Azriel had bolted before dessert, murmuring something about needed to talk to Rhys. Gwyn had thought nothing of it—might never have thought about it again had he not pinned her against a wall to declare that had been the moment he’d felt a mating bond snap. 

“We’ve been training together for months,” she replied with no small amount of outrage. He’d been keeping this secret for that long? 

“I thought you’d feel it,” Azriel all but growled, eyes bouncing over her face. “And when you didn’t…”

“Rhys knows?”

“And Cassian—”

“So Nesta, too?!”

Gwyn shoved him again, harder this time. Azriel let her, she suspected, stepping back so she could have some breathing space. “They all know but I don’t.”

“And you’re taking the knowledge so well,” Azriel replied with a bite of sarcasm.

She whirled, wishing she had a dagger in hand even has the dried blood from his healed wound still taunted her. “I think I deserved to know before Cassian.”

“I needed his help,” Azriel admitted, running a hand over his mouth. “I needed to know how he managed it.”

“How difficult could it be,” she asked flippantly, intending to leave him there so she could think. Foolish to turn her back on a predator. Azriel had her again, wrapped in one strong arm, the other holding her jaw so she had to look at him.

“Hell,” he rasped, his anguish plain. “Every minute of it has been hell.” 

In Gwyn’s defense, she managed one, final, protest. “It’s just—”

His mouth covered hers before she could finish that statement, could say what they both knew she’d been thinking. As if he found the words so abhorrent he wouldn’t hear them, would swallow them until he’d snuffed them from their very existence.

Gwyn forgot what she’d been about to say at all. She’d thought about what it might be like to kiss him. If his mouth would be soft or rough, if he kissed like he fought or if there was passion bubbling beneath his icy exterior. She hadn’t been prepared for what it would feel like or how desire would overtake her so thoroughly she didn’t care about anything else. Were those her hands cupping his neck? Her lips hungrily kissing him back like a crazed, desperate creature?

Her tongue meeting his own, her legs moving until he had her back against the wall so he could press the length of his body against hers? 

There was only one thought in her name, an echo repeated over and over. Mate. Mate. Mate. 

Maybe he should have just kissed her at that dinner. Skipped the yearning, the anguish, the uncertainty. At least they would have been kissing, anyway. Gwyn forgot herself entirely, nails digging against his shoulder until Azriel helpfully hoisted her into the air so she could wrap her legs around his waist.

“Don’t talk about my mate like that,” he panted, dragging his teeth against her neck. “I love her.”

Gwyn whimpered. What did she say to that? As it turned out—nothing. Azriel kissed her again, sparing them both whatever incoherent nonsense might have tumbled from her lips. She might have sworn she loved him too, if only to convince him to keep kissing her like he was.

Gwyn was certain Azriel’s kiss had ruined her life. How was she supposed to go back to things as they were before? It wasn't knowing that he was her mate, but knowing the way his hands felt cupped against her face and the way wildfire sparked in her blood when his tongue slid into her mouth? 

The worst of it was when his hands left her ass, letting her slide down the hard slab of his body before she was ready. He pulled away, lips swollen and eyes wild, to take a healthy step away from her, though it seemed to take an immense amount of effort. For her part, she kept herself pressed to the wall, unsure what was happening.

“You know now,” Azriel managed, his voice hoarse, “and that’s…that’s all I wanted. I ah…I should go before—”

“You’re leaving?” she asked, strangely hurt by this new rejection. Gwyn knew all about mating bonds. What fae didn’t? Before she’d come here, she’d once dreamt of her own mate, giggling with her sister in their bunks as they imagined what that person might be like. If they existed at all, given the rarity of such a thing. It was almost funny that he’d been right here all along, close enough she could literally touch. 

And he was going to leave? He didn’t want to accept it? Did she? It was all happening so fast but of course you didn’t reject a mate. She could see the wariness on his face, could watch in real time as he pulled up his defenses as she realized that yes. That was exactly his expectation.

Why? She knew from Nesta’s stories that Azriel was well sought after. And she wasn’t blind. What female didn’t dream of a male with his bone structure? He was powerful and close to the High Lord, and beyond all that, Azriel was kind. A genuinely good person, the sort of male one could spend centuries with if they wanted.

What could she even offer him? Gwyn’s thoughts raced, listing all the reasons he ought to have stopped, why keeping this a secret made so much sense. She didn’t notice Azriel creeping closer and closer until his fingers were under her chin, lifting her face so she had to look at him. 

“You’re doing it again,” he murmured, his voice dark and dangerous. “Thinking unkind thoughts about my mate.”

“You can’t tell me what to think,” she shot back, her own voice trembling a little. He was so certain, so unbothered and in her entire life, had anyone ever immediately felt that way about her?

Nesta and Emerie. Catrin. 

Azriel.

“You have it all wrong,” Azriel murmured and she wondered if perhaps he could read her mind. “It is you who could do so much better.”

His words drew a gust of laughter from her lips. The mother had certainly chosen well, putting the two of them together. What a pair—she wondered who would relent first? Her, or Azriel? Who would believe they deserved a mating bond first? It occurred to Gwyn, as she reached for his arm to pull him closer, that she was a shade too competitive—she wanted it to be him who broke first. Who relented first, who believed he was worthy, was deserving. 

And she could see, from that golden glint burning in his own gaze, that he was thinking the exact same thing. 

“You’re stupid,” she whispered, surging up on her tiptoes to kiss him again. She could taste the smile spreading over his face, sweet against the warm heat of his mouth. It took her an embarrassing amount of time to realize he wasn’t smiling because she’d told him to stop talking, but because she was kissing him. Gwyn hadn’t even considered not kissing.

He was her mate, after all. He was hers. She felt that the way she felt her own heart, the possession, the desire, the heat. She didn’t feel the cord the way everyone spoke of, but perhaps that was mere metaphor. After all, Gwyn believed Azriel wouldn’t lie to her about something so life altering.

Besides. She liked kissing him, new as it was. Azriel was unhurried and thorough, just like every other task she’d ever seen him undertake. And for the first time in a long time, she wondered what it would be like if he paid her that sort of attention in the bedroom. They stood there like that, his arm keeping her on her toes, steady against his warm, solid body. Momentarily, Gwyn wondered what might happen if Nesta and Cassian were to come in and decided she didn’t care.

How many times had she walked in on them in far more compromising positions, besides? 

Tiny steps had Gwyn flush against the wood wall, pressed against Azriel’s hard body and oh. He wanted her. Wanted her in a way that emptied her mind of all other thought beyond the desire to touch him.

And she was allowed, she realized with giddiness. He belonged to her. It was a possessive thought that overrode everything else, including all her good sense. He was hers.

“Mine,” she whispered into his mouth, not meaning to. Azriel groaned, tangling a hand in her hair to tilt back her head, his tongue delving back between her teeth to really taste her. Without the leathers he usually wore, it was surprisingly easy to find the golden buttons on his jacket, undoing them before Azriel’s own brain seemed to catch up with what was happening.

His wings flared, enveloping around them for a moment as he pulled back, his breathing heavy.

“Cassian will be home soon,” he whispered, holding her close against him as if he expected his friend to take her away. “Nesta too.” “You have a bedroom here, right?” Gwyn said with more daring than she felt. Azriel’s once half-lidded eyes flew open, those hazel eyes searching her own. 

“I do,” he whispered, swallowing audibly. “There’s no rush—”

“Please?”

One moment she’d been standing there, her hand flat against the white, linen shirt Azriel wore beneath his jacket and the next her feet were in the air, her body cradled against him as he walked.

“I can’t think when you’re around,” Azriel was saying, his steps echoing against the wood. “Can’t think just looking at you. Sometimes I think I’ll wake up and this will have all been a dream.”

“It’s real,” she replied, pressing her lips to his neck. “I’m real. We’re real.”

He shuddered, all but running up a flight of stairs. There was no reaction when his wing clipped a door frame nor did he say a word when he had to use his nice shoe to slam his bedroom door shut. Gwyn wasn’t given the opportunity to really look around his space, either—though it seemed sparse and filled with dark, moody colors. 

Azriel had her on the bed, his own body over top her own before she could exhale the breath she’d just taken. 

“Tell me to stop,” he said, the maddening male. She would have told him she didn’t want him to, but he was kissing her again, his burning lips all but bruising her own. Drawing a leg up, Gwyn could line up their otherwise mismatched bodies so he was pressed exactly where she wanted him. 

They were going to do this. She wanted to do this. When she managed to take a breath, the taste of blood faint against her tongue, she rasped, “Take this off.”

Azriel was on his knees in a moment, shucking off his jacket before all but ripping off his shirt, too. There in the dark with nothing but silvery moonlight to illuminate him, Gwyn was allowed to really look at him. 

He didn’t move, a lock of dark hair half obscuring the intensity of his gaze. “All of it,” she decided before she lost her nerve. 

Azriel cocked his head, his lips pursed as though he’d tell her no.

“Please,” she added.

Azriel groaned again, softer this time. Somewhere in the house, a door slammed closed and a mingling of male and female voices rose like music, a soothing hum in the background as Azriel slid off the bed entirely.

Wings tucked tightly against his toned back, he quietly locked his door before turning back to her. “We don’t have to,” he said, his fingers hovering over the laces of his pants. Gwyn had a suspicion Azriel would spend the next century saying this and she’d spend the next century  reassuring him that she wanted all of it. All of him.

Maybe he’d realize in the morning when she snuck into the kitchen and begged the house for his favorite meal. She had no idea what it was, but surely the magic that governed this place did? Would he eat it from her hands? Or would he balk, certain this was just another dream?

“I know,” she said, leaning up on her elbows. “Take it all off, anyway.”

Gwyn knew what Azriel was wondering but her past was murky—forgotten in the dark, the ugly replaced with his easy, unassuming beauty. Still, she held her breath as he undressed entirely, drinking in the sight of him. This was the male she’d knocked to the ground, the very same that could kill another person without a second thought.

Underneath the thick, armored leathers and weapons lay just a male made of skin and bone. Gwyn’s eyes traced the tattoos adorning his shoulders and chest, the intricate swirls snaking up his neck and vanishing behind his back. Every inch of him was muscled, softer now that he was relaxed and still present just below the warm brown of his flesh.

And between his legs…

Gwyn giggled. She couldn’t help herself. It was so big—surely they weren’t supposed to be that large? That thick? There was an air of male pride shimmering around him, his legs spread a little wider as if to say, drink it all in. 

“Are you laughing at me?” he asked, his voice a dark, teasing growl. Prowling forward, Gwyn’s heart spiked loud enough he must have heard.

“I wasn’t prepared for…” For what? For him? Azriel was so quiet, so unassuming…she just assumed if he had all that going on he’d brag a little more? Swagger about the way Cassian always was? 

“I’d be a poor mate if I left you wanting,” he replied, his eyes glazed over once his knees hit the edge of the bed. Perhaps it was the sight of her, still dressed, scrambling on her hands and knees so she could crawl toward him. She just wanted to touch, to feel if his cock was as hard as it looked. 

Azriel sucked in a breath when her fingers curled around the base of his shaft, just barely touching. Looking up, she murmured, “Is this what you like?”

“I like you,” he replied, scooping up her hair in his hands as Gwyn stroked him experimentally. He choked out a sound, his heartbeat thudding in her ears. She supposed that was her answer—he liked the way she touched him.

Pride filled her chest knowing she could please her mate, even with something as simple as touching him. Gwyn stroked again, letting her wrist twist at the end as her eyes refused to leave his face.

“Gods,” he whispered, his wings tightening against his back. “I’ve imagined…Gwyn…”

She was allowed a third pass before he pushed her back, her clothes pulled off her body so quickly all she managed was to lift her hips and raise her arms. 

“Do you know how many nights I’ve laid in this exact bed and imagined you just like this?” Azriel began, his voice a dark, sultry whisper. “Splayed out…naked…undone?”

“No,” she squeaked out in response, half embarrassed to be undressed before him. Azriel’s gaze burned against her skin, warming a path from her collarbone to her thighs. 

“Would you like to know what I dream about at night?” he questioned, sinking to his knees so he was eye level with the edge of the bed. 

Arousal ribboned through her, making a fool out of her. “Yes,” she replied, strangely excited to be the object of this man’s fantasies. 

Strong, scarred fingers curled around her thighs, pushing them wider before hooking them over his shoulders. He was staring at her cunt, now, studying her like she was some priceless piece of art. 

“I dream of tasting you,” Azriel breathed, the warmth of his breath fanning against her. Gwyn squirmed when he kissed her inner thigh—the left, and then the right—before using his tongue to lightly take that first taste he’d been dreaming of. Gwyn might have asked him how he liked it had it not felt so good. 

Besides, she knew he liked it—Azriel groaned loudly, spreading her apart wider with his fingers so he could taste her everywhere. Gone was his slow exploration, his desire to take his time. All of it had been replaced with the animal kneeling between her legs, licking and touching her cunt like his life depended on it. 

All traces of her embarrassment evaporated, leaving only instinct behind. Gwyn surrendered to the urge, letting desire wash over her until it was all she knew. “Don’t stop,” she breathed, well aware he probably couldn’t. 

Azriel pushed a finger into her gently, moaning at whatever he felt. Gwyn hadn’t considered what it would feel like to share space with him—to feel him inside her own body but now…

“Az,” she panted, her hips rolling against his mouth and hand. She wanted him to stop licking, to replace his fingers with his cock. Heat was building in her chest beyond simple arousal, heavy like a chain. 

Unbreakable.

A bond. A real thread she could follow straight to the male between her legs. It reverberated and then snapped just as Azriel sucked her clit into his mouth, eliciting a scream that was half his name. Could he feel it too? No—his had snapped months ago and he’d just been living with it.

Gwyn couldn’t see how. If she didn’t have him right that second she might go insane. Reaching for his powerful biceps, Gwyn tried to pull him off her but the waves of pleasure made her hands shake. 

“Az,” she tried again, his name a breathy moan against her lips. Her hips moved of their own accord, grinding against him in what must have seemed like encouragement to keep going. Maybe it was—she didn’t try very hard to get him off her.

Azriel managed a third finger, a whine slipping from his throat at the effort. Gwyn just barely registered any of it, her body jerking a second time from pleasure so bright and heady she could have died from it. It was too much—Gwyn was burning, was in free-fall with no one to catch her.

Digging her nails into his skin, she yanked at him. Azriel emerged, lips wet and eyes wild. “Please,” she heard herself saying, the magic words that, apparently, could convince him to do anything she wanted. “I need you.”

His fingers were wet as they skimmed the side of her body, palm grasping her breast before his lips found hers. He tasted sweet and she supposed it was herself, truly, she was tasting on his tongue. He was hurried, his desperation making him sloppy. When his teeth clashed with her own, nipping the sensitive skin of her bottom lip, Gwyn had enough.

“Az—”

“Don’t beg me,” he breathed, pressing his forehead against her own. Caressing her cheek, Azriel added, “I’ll do whatever you want. You don’t have to beg.”

“I feel it,” she replied, running her hand up and down his spine. “It’s a real thread.”

Azriel exhaled with relief, a smile ghosting his pretty face. Whispering something that sounded like gratitude toward the gods, he adjusted his body until she felt the blunt head of his cock pressed against her. How had he stood it? The waiting, the wanting, the utter need that Gwyn was all but drowning in. If they didn’t do this, she thought she might die from it. 

“You’ll tell me if I hurt you.” It wasn’t a request, though Gwyn had no intention of telling him anything. She expected a little pain, expected little pleasure. Why else had he used his mouth first? 

Gwyn had read enough books to know that there was blood and pain and so when Azriel slid himself an inch into her, she braced herself against him, her nails digging into his biceps. She could feel his eyes on her, searching for even a hint of discomfort. There was something reassuring about knowing he’d stop if she wanted. That he cared if she enjoyed herself. 

Gwyn didn’t need a book to know not all males cared about such things.

Azriel took his time—like he knew he had eons of it, that he didn’t have to rush. Gwyn loved him for it, eyes burning with unshed tears at the thought. She’d tell him all this later, when they’d had a chance to breathe and eat and really talk about everything that had otherwise been left unsaid. Instead she dragged her lips down his neck and focused on the feeling of his cock in her body, pushing further and further without any of the accompanying pain she’d expected.

She was slick enough that he felt less like an intrusion and more like a welcomed guest, and once he’d seated himself entirely, it seemed as though they’d been made like two puzzle pieces destined to fit. 

It took a moment to get used to the stretch, to breathe despite the feeling of fullness. Azriel gave it to her instinctively, as if he knew exactly what she both wanted and needed. There was that same sense of I have all the time in the world, despite her knowing he was desperate. A bead of sweat slid from his temple, rolling down his neck and his arms shook from restraint.

He didn’t move. 

Not until her mouth made its way to his collarbone and she whispered, “Give me more.” He groaned loud enough to shatter the silence, pulling himself out with a slowness that bordered on madness. 

“You’re so wet,” he whispered, burying his face into her neck. “I’m losing my mind.”

She couldn’t help the exhaled smile, raking her fingers through his hair. “Did you dream of this, too?”

“No,” he admitted with a grunt, sliding his cock back into her body. “I didn’t dare.”

“Why?”

“Couldn’t,” he managed, thrusting again with a little more intensity. “Would have gone crazy from wanting you. Surprised you couldn’t smell it on me.”

As if she would have known what she was smelling. There was no point in telling him so—not as Azriel confessed the depths of his devotion, the lengths he’d gone to give her time, space, and whatever else she’d wanted. Would he have continued to do so forever? 

Gwyn kissed his cheek. “I want you. I want this.”

He groaned again, sliding his hand between their otherwise flushed bodies to rub at her still swollen clit. She’d been half distracted by his words to pay attention to her body but right then, when his thumb began making tight circles, Gwyn was pulled back under the depths of shadowed darkness, half consumed by the male laying on top of her. 

Their mouths met, messy and unrestrained. Strange how kissing merely heightened the pleasure coiling through her—Gwyn wouldn’t have guessed that. In her books, everything was so neat and clinical. They kissed, they touched, they fucked with nothing in between. In real life, sex was messier, more fluid. Or maybe she and Azriel merely had more passion than the people in her stories.

Those love stories had once brought her such joy. Now they seemed dimmed in comparison to what was happening to her and her own feelings. 

“I need to feel you come,” he whispered, betraying how close he must have been. Gwyn felt the same way. She needed to feel him, needed to see him wholly unraveled. All because of her—no one else was allowed to know what he sounded like, what he looked like. They got control, they got the ice but she got the heat, the impulsivity—everything he was, everything he’d ever been. 

Gwyn came to the thought of that future, tightening around him as her back arched her into his chest, offering very little give. Azriel kissed her, swallowing the sound of her moans greedily. They belonged to him, anyway. 

He came mere seconds later, his own noise of pleasure delightfully loud for a male that was so often silent. Gwyn kept herself wrapped tight around him, arms winding against his neck, her teeth sinking into his shoulder. His pumping was erratic, uncontrolled and a little desperate. Gwyn was obsessed with this side of him—wanted more of it.

Azriel didn’t withdraw when he was done, his heart thudding against her breast. “It’s not enough, is it?” she whispered, thinking they both ought to feel sated. She didn’t. In her books, the heroine was always spent, the hero falling asleep not long after. The pair would wake in each other's arms, content and glowing from the night before.

Gwyn wanted to shove him to the floor and climb atop him. Wanted to hear him beg, too—wanted more of the whimpering, the groaning and everything in between.

“It was never going to be,” he panted, kissing her softly. 

“How long will it last?” she wondered, brushing a damp lock of hair from his face.

“Eternity, I imagine,” he replied, his eyes burning with that same unflinching intensity. “For me, at least.”

Gwyn’s heart exploded, racing in her throat. “Are you hungry?” she whispered, deciding she couldn’t wait for the morning. She wanted to do this right now. Wanted him to know that this meant something to her, even if she was scared, too. 

Azriel went still. “There’s no rush—”

“That’s yes or no, Azriel.”

A smile broke over his face. “Starving,” he admitted in that dark, sultry voice. 

“You have to get up,” she reminded him, pushing half-heartedly at his shoulder. Azriel lowered his mouth for another kiss.

“In a minute.”

Strange how a minute could stretch.

Into lifetimes, even.

[eternal-ascensionism]

Song Fic maybe???

Hii! I have a request for you, its a Bucky Barnes x avenger!reader idea with the song "Love Again" by Dua Lipa. Where maybe reader has been through some tough/ toxic relationships and swears off of romance once they joined the avengers but then when Bucky returns from Wakanda the reader begins to develope a crush on Bucky as he flirts with them after having a crush on her from the moment he met them. Maybe the reader thoughts align with the lyrics of the song and in the end the reader lets their heart open and starts dating Bucky after he knocks down all of thier walls :) (Also reader can be female or GN and I tried to give you some like guide but didn't want to restrict you!) Hope you have a good day :D

Ok first anon I love you sm for puttin me on this song it BANGS and I love this idea sm!!!

This is technically more like avengers assistant!reader because I suck at finding cohesive ways to fit an original character into the avengers team ((I have tried since I was 16 LMAO)) but hopefully it still works! Hope you enjoy!

Heaven’s Right Here, Baby 

Bucky x Avenger!Reader

Themes: Angst, comfort, fluff

Warnings:Angst; discussions of: war, PTSD, abusive relationships, trauma bonding, etc. (if you pick up on any I’ve missed pleeease let me know!!)

💗

I glance upward as I hear the rumble above, eyes squinting against the sun’s rays. For some unknown reason, I’d been expecting some grand aircraft; a sleek jet or maybe one of the large helicarriers I’d seen in the hangar back at the Avengers’ HQ when I first arrived. What I was met with was a rather modest plane I’d estimate could fit ten passengers at best. It didn’t really matter, I knew the man aboard couldn’t care less about materialism or prestige. Still, he was one of our team’s brightest and most respected members. It simply felt odd to receive him back via such underwhelming conditions. 

Up until this point, I’d only ever worked basic civilian jobs or the occasional temp gig. However after a particularly traumatic breakup, I’d decided that being miserable and barely living above the poverty line wasn’t cutting it anymore. It took a good few years and a considerable amount of ass kissing, but I eventually got offered a role as an assistant of sorts for Nick Fury in New York City.

Natasha was the first person I’d found myself bonding with; the first night I’d spent in the tower was a long one, and she had spent a large chunk of it comforting me by making me laugh with her Captain America impression. Funnily enough, I’d meet Steve Rogers the next morning in the kitchen. He walked into the kitchen and shook my hand, exchanging names and pleasantries with me as the rest of the team filtered in. I watched anxiously as they all began to dig into the food; I couldn’t pinpoint why, but I found myself desperate to impress each of my new coworkers.

Introductions were made, meals were finished, and I beamed at the compliments toward my cooking. To my surprise the conversations seemed to flow naturally. I couldn’t help but linger on one man in particular, though. His metal arm gleamed brilliantly in the lighting of the spacious dining area. He was a man of few words. Bucky, they called him. The next month consisted of me making a fool of myself through several missions, distracted each time by that smolder and the tortured look behind his eyes. It was a look I knew all too well. Still, I didn’t dare approach sergeant Barnes out of fear. Whether it be fear of authority or my lingering fear of men, I wasn’t sure. Didn’t make much difference; the less interactions, the better. The last thing I needed was to get in over my head during what’s meant to be my fresh start.

Today was his return from the last stage of a program for training and rehab that began long before I came into the picture. From what I understood, it all began a few years back when the late King T’Challa harbored Bucky; partly as a favor to Steve, and partly out of respect for the sergeant. He saw James Buchanan Barnes beyond the outgrown hair and the guarded demeanor. He saw someone worth fighting to save. By the time I’d arrived, his reserved nature had let up a bit. We both exhibit similar acts such as hypervigilance, but I suppose that’ll always remain in some small way. We’re part of the team tasked with ensuring the safety of earth, after all.

I wave a hand to Bucky as he steps off the walkway, a bag slung over his shoulder. When he sees me and the team, he shoots us a small grin. It wasn’t until he made it halfway across the asphalt that I registered the changes of his left arm. The once scuffed and faded titanium had been replaced with a new, higher quality gold and silver prosthetic.

“Vibranium,” Bucky offers, having picked up on my stare. “Shuri helped me.”

I felt a pang in my chest as he looked at it proudly. It was the same ache I’d gotten every time I’d bore witness to sergeant Barnes letting pieces of his real self shine through. I could try and lie to myself, but I’m grown. I know what it means to have feelings for someone. As much as I’d fought to stay neutral from the beginning, something about Bucky had always pulled at my heart. I would never let him know, but he’d melted some part of me that I’d spent years freezing out. Still, I’d vowed to keep to the professional relationship I’ve created with the former soldier. I couldn’t risk letting something like random feelings of fondness jeopardize my job. I am here to help others and to run away from my demons, nothing more and nothing less.

-

“I never thought that I would find a way out, I never thought I’d hear my heart beat so loud. I can’t believe there’s something left in my chest anymore”

-

Upon our entry to the tower, we were met by the quiet humming of music. Puzzled, we all made our way to the lounge area where we found Tony behind the bar in the corner. He raised a glass of amber-colored liquid in our direction as a greeting. “Welcome back, Barnes. Dig the new scrap pieces.”

Bucky rolled his eyes and pointed to the speakers built into the tall ceiling overhead. “Thanks. What’s with the music?” Swinging around the bar to stand in front of us, Tony smirked.

“What? Can’t we have a little homecoming celebration? We missed you, bud.” Before he could reply, Natasha interjected, grabbing Tony’s free hand.

“In that case, let’s dance. You’ve only got six months before your wedding and Pepper is gonna kill you if you step on her white heels.”

I watch in glee as Nat drags Tony away to the open space near the couch to practice his moves for the big day. Everyone branched off into pairs, leaving me standing at the bar with a can of soda while Bucky perched on the arm of the recliner. These little moments of joy made being alive less painful each day. I continued observing my teammates for a while before hearing someone clear their throat from beside me. “Wanna dance, doll?”

The low timbre gave him away without so much as a sideways glance. It was sergeant Barnes. Asking me to dance. With him. Ignoring the cold sensation shooting through my veins, I threw him a smile and nodded. Offering me a hand, we make our way over to the spot where the others are swaying to the crooning of an early 1900s love song. With the way Bucky and Steve perked up as it came on, I’d be willing to bet they were grooving to it back in the days of its first release. The thought warms my heart, and I risk placing my head on Bucky’s shoulder as we let the music guide us. Maybe trusting him for one dance wouldn’t hurt. Maybe it’s okay to let my guard down just this once.

-

“I never knew I had it in me to dance anymore, but god damn, you’ve got me in love again.”

-

Love. That’s what it was. I hated to admit it to myself, it scared me to the point of lost sleep and vomiting, quite frankly. But I couldn’t bear pretending any more. Bucky had been back in New York for all of two weeks before we started being sent on missions together to gather intel on a potential threat. I didn’t know the details, they only ever told me what was absolutely necessary to carry out a job. They explained it was so that if I were to be caught, I could play dumb as a simple civilian caught up in bigger matters on accident. You never know what tactics someone may have to pull the truth from you, but there’s nothing to be extracted if I truly know nothing. However, at the current moment, I wished for little more than to be pulled from this room and dragged elsewhere. I tear my eyes from my debrief notes to stare back at the disheveled man sat across from me. I had yet to fully process what he asked.

“What?” His frown deepens, and I almost regret asking him to repeat himself.

“Do you think I’m someone you could love?”

I was completely taken aback. Sure, the sergeant and I had some pretty deep conversations in the past. We weren’t incredibly close before his return, both of us being highly traumatized and reserved people; but pair long missions with hours spent staring off into the night watching for movement and we had begun to fill the void. He relayed stories of war and torture, and I recounted memories of toxic relationships and a traumatic childhood. It only seemed natural that we eventually progressed into becoming each other’s confidant over the last few months. When we accepted the latest task I expected us to exchange banter, maybe make up some new inside jokes. I didn’t expect it to devolve into a raw and emotional conversation about our past hurts and shortcomings. Bucky had opened up about the women he’d met before the war, branching off into a story where he’d tried to make something work with a woman he’d met briefly in Romania before he’d had to go back on the run. I could see the pain in his expression, I could hear the slight waver in his voice as he tried making sense of where he’d gone wrong in life to deserve it all.

Then he looked up at me, those big grey-blue eyes shining with unshed tears, and he asked me the one question that I know will change everything. Is he someone I could love? When he asked, I realized I already know the answer. I already know I love him.

“Yes.” He blinks at me, seemingly in shock, but I just continue. “I don’t have to think about it, Buck. I love you because you are worthy of being loved. I love you because you are inherently lovable. I love how you care about people, I love how you fight fiercely to protect them. I love how intelligent you are, and how you never use that against others. I love how you make me feel safe. I love how you’ve never given me a reason to question your motives like all the other men I’ve let into my life. I love you, and I didn’t even think I could love again.” I dabbed my sleeve over the wetness pooling under my eyes, chuckling at my own intense reaction. Discussing my feelings was never easy, but it just came naturally with Bucky.

Two hands came up to hold my cheeks as Bucky looked at my face, perhaps studying me for any sign of deceit or sarcasm. I meant every word, though. He wrapped me up in a tight hug, and after he pulled back, I felt a sudden confidence. I leaned in and pressed a soft peck to his stubble-covered cheek, delighting in the light red tint that washed over his face.

“I love you too, doll. I didn’t wanna scare you away, you mean the world to me. Just didn’t imagine you’d feel the same. Not that I’d blame you, with what you’ve told me about the others I wouldn’t blame ya if you never spoke to a man again.” Bucky laid a gentle kiss to the back of my hand that still rested in his. “Honored to be the one you trust.”

“Never have I ever met somebody like you, used to be afraid of love and what it might do. But god damn, you’ve got me in love again”

—!—

HELLO I REALLY HOPE THIS WAS WHAT YOU WANTED! I’m sorry it took me so long to finish I kept branching off with different ideas before settling on one cohesive concept and hopefully I did a decent job following your prompt! Thank you sooo much for the request this was super fun to write and honestly kickstarted my productivity which has been in the shitter since like pre 2020 lmao bless you guys <333

[thepersonnamedsam]

carlos‘ song - cs55

pairing: carlos sainz x fem!reader

summary: you wrote a song about carlos

word count: 1.2k

warnings: angst, mentions of death, anxiety, sad stuff

note: i have been obsessed with carlo‘s song lately and i just had to write something for carlos, bc obv carlo‘s - carlos

masterlist / taglist

Standing on the rooftop of this bar in Madrid, your short hair blew in the cold air. Apparently it’s not just any bar, the bar is placed on a fire tower.

The sun was just about to set and you tried to keep your hair under control. „You know, I liked it more when it was long.“ Carlos looked at you with his big brown round eyes and it reminded you of a deer caught in a headlight.

„Oh really?“, you grinned. When you two first met you were only 12 years old, little best friend of Isa. You never taught you would one day stay on this roof top with her brother.

„Yeah, do you remember drinking in the parking lot? By the trail head? Yeah, I liked your hair that day.“

You felt heat rush to your head, you blamed it on the cold. „Okay, I can grow it out long, if you’d like that?“

You only just moved back to Madrid. Ida was supposed to pick you up from the airport but instead there stood a bright red Ferrari with not Isa but her brother Carlos instead. And he didn’t take you to his sisters, no he treated you to a drink on the fire tower.

Only the good die young was playing on the speakers.

„You know, I never understood what Billy Joel meant with those lyrics“, you thought out loud. „Didn’t you just study english literature?“ - „Yeah, and?“ Your eyebrows raised at him, silently questioning his thoughts.

„Like, aren’t you just supposed to know what he meant with his lyrics?“

„I mean, I have my own meaning, but it’s ridiculous.“ - „No, please tell me, because I always laugh at the lyrics“, Carlos said.

„I mean, obviously in the first verse he wants to have sex with virgin catholic girls. And ‚only the good die young‘ you can argue about that - young people who die didn’t deserve it, therefore they were good. Or old people aren’t good anymore, or many more.“

„Not ridiculous“, he smiled. „Huh?“ - „Your meaning of the song isn’t ridiculous, not in the slightest.“

You smiled, hard. Carlos was an interesting man and you wondered what more grew under that perfect skin of his.

„I think we are going to be good friends, Carlos“, you told him. „You think so?“, was his answer. You nodded and grinned at him.

Over the time you grew closer together, Carlos showed you parts of Madrid you only remembered vaguely from your childhood. But the distance of his job hurt more and more. You knew what a relationship with him meant. You knew only too good, heard Isa over the phone crying over missing her brother.

But the days he spent in between were the best you ever experienced.

„I want a big house out in the open. Where the sun always shines and all the light gets into the house!“, Carlos gushed. You were laying on the couch together and planned how your future would look like if money didn’t matter - not that it did anyway.

„Whys that?“, you asked him. „I don’t like the way my skin feels when it’s not shown on by the sun. I like the warmth, never liked the cold, brrr“, his arms snaked around your upper body and shook it like you were freezing.

Your laugh was heard throughout the apartment. Carlos grinned at you, his skin warming with the sound of your happiness.

„Why don’t you like the way your skin feels without the sun?“

„It makes me feel like I need to escape my own body. Like I don’t belong, it just feels wrong.“

„Well I hope you can escape your skin with me“, you smiled at the man you were falling more and more in love with.

But you still never went to a grand prix with him. And when he asked you why, you came up with a new excuse as not to.

You started to pick up more work, started to work over the weekends. You had less and less time to call Carlos over the weekend, making him question your feelings for him.

Until it happened. It happened on a Saturday at FP2. It was quickly over. You only heard about the incident the next day, as you wondered why Carlos didn’t start.

Isa called you. 48 seconds. That’s how long the phone call lasted. The news shattered your heart. Broken into millions of pieces. You couldn’t believe it, no, Isa was definitely playing pranks with you.

You fell, you fell deep into a hole. A hole you never knew you sighed it yourself. Deeper and deeper. Until Isa visited you. She brought you his clothes he still had at home. She brought his necklace that he was about to gift you. His initials graved into the back of the pendant.

But still, everyone who started talking about him being gone, you shut out. You shut them right out, because in your mind he was still alive, he was still racking and he was winning.

But the reality was none of that. And reality hit you, it hit you hard. His memorial was held at the end of the season. And Isa asked you to talk about him. You had to admit he was dead.

„I can’t do it, Isa.“ - „Please, you were his everything, he talked so much about you! Did you know he had been crushing on you since he was 16?“

„Did you set us up? The day you didn’t pick me up from the airport and instead sent him?“

Isa looked at you, just like Carlos had when he was caught doing something he shouldn’t have. This big brown eyes. Glistening with mischief - it was something that all of the Sainz family possessed.

„You caught me“, she shamelessly shrugged with her shoulders and smirked at you. „It was time? He was pining on you for so long, but you were away studying and he was so sad, I had to do it, it was his only chance!“

His memorial was beautiful, the whole grid present. Charles and Frédéric spoke about his time at Ferrari, Lando held a speech about their friendship and Isa sung a beautiful song. She still tried to convince you to speak, but you just couldn’t.

Isa and you still regularly talked to each other. She was doing good, better than her anyway. You almost never talked about Carlos. You weren’t bringing him up, neither did she.

The one thing Isa told you was: „Grief is just love letting go. It’s okay to let go.“

You almost cried - how could she say that like it was just spilled milk?

„Look at yourself, when’s the last time you cut your hair? You always kept it short, but now?“

You did visit him at his grave. Brought flowers and letters for him to read. Eventually you wrote a song. A song to remember him - Carlos‘ Song.

And one day you stood on a stage, at the bar they had their first date at and sung Carlos‘ Song.

Isa was there, smiling up at you and filming the whole thing. „I’m going to show it to my parents“, she smiled.

And you knew Carlos was smiling down on you and kept you alive.

°°°

@ironmaiden1313 , @topguncultleader , @biglittlesecret , @gulabjamooon , @lovelyy-moonlight , @peachyplumsss , @mistrose23 , @copper-boom , @love4lando , @champomiel , @serenityleah , @iloveyou3000morgan , @angelwithoutmywings , @elleeeee21 , @youkissedareaderinthedark , @mikauraur , @thybulleric , @lpab , @fdl305 , @mellowarcadefun , @teti-menchon0604 , @vildetry06 , @bibissparkles , @aurora-maria , @lunnnix , @sya-skies , @Buckywifeyy , @dakotali , @rechtrecht , @noncannonships , @1eclerc16 , @pitlanebabe , @sopheeg , @avengersheart , @thatsadsmallchild , @peachiicherries , @idkiwantchocolatee , @callsign-scully , @mehrmonga , @badbatch-simp24 , @lissyontour , @din0nugs , @elliegrey2803 , @gay-for-victoria-de-angelis , @10vely-yutazen , @daggersquadphantom , @azriel-the-shadowsinger , @i-love-scott-mccall , @darleneslane , @mikauraur , @heartmetaphor , @darleneslane , @ellswilliams , @thxtmarvelchick , @nataliambc , @dontjudgeabookbythecover , @hockeyboysarehot , @thehistoryone

[soh1ghschool]

"I know I'll never get it, theres not a day that i wont try"

✧ sorry for the wait on a new fic, i have requests i just havent been up for it. this story is a recycle of an old one i have written for a different person who i dont support anymore. i just changed it up and made it as matt as possible. i hope you enjoy! xx

cw: reader having anxiety, dissociation, super fluffy matt trying to help, fidgeting

wc: 633

✧ last but not least, the title is a lyric from soon you'll get better by taylor swift! (whole song isnt very fitting but i thought the lyric was)

“Hey babe, you alright?” Matt said, looking at his girlfriend who was fidgeting with the remote. Seeing the person he loved often having these little quirks to calm their nerves wasn't bizarre. You do most things like twiddle your thumbs, turn up the TV to a specific volume, and the way you would count when it was just too much for you to handle. Although he picked up on these things, he never realized how to fix it.

You finally perk your head up. “Yes Matty, I’m alright.” You said to the man looking over at you with such worry. You knew he was worried, and you were sure he knew what was wrong.

“Okay, just making sure.” He said before turning to the TV, seeing the volume rise to the number you always chose when you were anxious. It was your favourite number, there wasn’t any way he could’ve missed it. “How about we head to bed, baby. Would that be alright with you?” He asked you so sweetly. He knew that if it was too late you’d start dissociating due to the tiredness slowly taking over your body.

“Sure.” Tiredness slightly showed in your voice when you spoke to him. No seconds were wasted before Matt wrapped his arms around you, carefully picking you up. Soon he made it to your shared bedroom and laid you down, not long after he joined you in bed. Each of you said your goodnights and I love yous before slowly drifting off to sleep.

Matt had gotten up fairly early, he had something to do with his brothers today. He kissed you on your forehead before leaving. He hoped you would text him when you woke up. He spent almost all day with his brothers, not once receiving a text from you. This worried him a bit, so he decided to go home as soon as he finished. He walked into the house and made his way to your bedroom. He saw you there on the bed, still sleeping so peacefully. He didn’t want to disrupt, but he knew he had to.

“Hey honey, you need to get up. It’s almost 2 pm.” He said, lightly shaking your sleeping figure. You hummed slightly, still quite tired. He never realized why you slept so late until he realized why you didn’t sleep at all.

It was a week before he had to go on tour. You dreaded this time because you knew he would be gone for at least a month, sometimes even more. This time made your anxiety worse, you would dissociate even more than before. This meant sleeping less than usual. Matt soon noticed how little you were sleeping and how all the fidgeting got a bit worse. He didn’t wanna leave anymore. He knew if he told you, you would think it was about you and it was your fault.

Even though he wanted to cancel his appearance at the tour, he knew he couldn’t. His fans would be upset, his brothers would be upset, and you would’ve been upset because it would be your fault he cancelled his appearance. He knew you saw how excited he was for this tour. He tried the whole week to try and break you of these habits. He failed to realize it would take more than just a few days.

He insisted you went with him to the airport to see him before he left. He would hope that it would just calm your nerves for a bit. After lots of goodbyes and I love yous, he boarded his plane. He was terrified for how you would be. He made sure to check on you every chance he got, even if that meant staying up at ungodly times of the night to talk to you, or telling some of his friends to go in and watch you.

[babyleostuff]

could u do the vocal unit reacting to your cats, like cuddling them or taking a bunch of pictures :)

sorry if i got anything wrong, but i’m a big dog person and i’m a bit scared of cats (😭), so i have no experience with them. still i hope you’ll enjoy 💜

seventeen with your cats | vocal unit

*ੈ✩‧₊˚ YOON JEONGHAN 

Jeonghan loves everything that’s small, cute and fluffy, which is the perfect description of a cat that you've recently got and to be honest you weren’t sure who was more excited about it - you or him. 

You’d tease him anytime he’d come over to your place, that he came only for your new, adorable kitten, but to your defence, that’s how it looked - the second you opened the door, he was pushing you aside to go and find it. 

You didn’t complain though, they were so adorable together it was almost sickening. Anytime he’d carry the small fluffball, pet it gently on its head or simply watch it sleep, your heart would melt at the sight, making you fall in love with him even more.

*ੈ✩‧₊˚ JOSHUA HONG

Joshua can’t help but coo anytime he sees you with your cat, thinking how adorable you two are and how he wishes he could freeze this moment forever. That’s why his camera roll is not only full of your pictures, but also your cat’s. 

He always looks back on those pictures while he is on tour. You also send him some new ones, even the most random ones and you always joke that your cat misses him more than you do. 

He also loves how it always lays itself in his lap, when he’s over at your place. The second he sits on the couch, it is already beside him, waiting to be scratched on its head. And for some reason, Joshua always found it very calming, which was one more reason why he should move in with you. 

*ੈ✩‧₊˚ WOOZI 

He loves the calmness of your cat, how it always sits next to him, while he is working and how it purrs, when he scratches it under the chin. It’s his best working buddy and when Woozi is having a hard time finding a beat or finishing lyrics, he always has someone to turn to. 

You could swear that Woozi was more affectionate with your cat than you (obviously he wasn’t), but 99% of the time that you’d walk on them in the living, he was holding it close to his body, while your cat had the most satisfied expression.

He quickly realised how much he actually missed it, when he was away. He’d shyly ask you to send some pictures of you and your cat, so he could set it as his new wallpaper, so he would be able to look at both of you whenever he opened his phone. 

*ੈ✩‧₊˚ DK 

Oh my god, Dokyeom and your cat are seriously the two cutest beings you’ve ever seen. You melt every time he picks it up, scratches it between its ears, plays with it - as long as they are in the same room you feel like there can’t be anything cuter than them together. 

He loves to play with it so much, every chance he gets, he’s off to your apartment to play with his favourite being (aside from you, of course). He’s the one who bought like 80% of the toys that your cat has and no matter how much you ask him to stop, because it gets spoiled way too much, he does not listen to you 

Your cat is the best when he has bad days, when all three of you cuddle on the couch, while a kdrama plays in the background. One hand is scratching the cat's head and the other is tightly holding yours. 

*ੈ✩‧₊˚ BOO SEUNGKWAN 

At first he had to get used to your cat and he was really afraid that it wouldn’t like him and that would be the last thing he’d want. He knew how much you loved your precious pet and he wanted it to like him so badly. But there isn't a place in this universe where someone wouldn’t like Boo Seungkwan, so they became friends very quickly. 

Like Dokyeom, he loves playing with your cat and your home is always loud from his giggles and laughs whenever they are doing anything together. It takes his mind off his burdens and work and the time spent with your cat is the perfect healing time for him. 

But as much as he loves when your cat is all energetic and playful, he also loves when it’s tired and becomes cuddly. When it's about to fall asleep, he lays next to it and puts his head in front of its little one. He lays one of his hands on top of its head, petting it gently. Seungkwan always has the softest smile when he does that and you wished you could keep him smiling like that forever.

taglist (if you want to be added, check my masterlist): @weird-bookworm @sea-moon-star

[httpsdana]

Hey! Hope you're doing well <3 I have to start with I REALLY LOVE YOUR WRITING!!!!!! . Also the last one for Jamal Musiala was so sweet !

Soo if it's fine for me to request, and if you feel like it of course ,could you do one for him with prompt 67 ( maybe the reader plays guitar but you can write it however you like really )

Thank you so so much in advance <3<3

Wildest Dreams~Jamal Musiala

*Pictures are from Pinterest*

thank you so much for you sweet message. i really appreciate it <3 also I added a taylor swift song I'm so so sorry if u don't like her, it's just the only thing that came to mind 😭

request from here

master list

players/drivers i write for

67-"please play guitar for me."

y/n and Jamal had spent the afternoon together, enjoying the calm after a long day, just being in each other’s presence in y/n's apartment.

Jamal had been glancing at her guitar every so often, the silent request hanging in the air. She hadn’t played in front of him before, and though she knew he loved listening to music, she wasn’t sure he’d ever make the first move to ask.

Finally, he broke the silence. His voice was soft, almost shy. “Please play guitar for me,” he said, his words catching you a little off guard.

y/n raised an eyebrow, turning to face him. “You want me to play something?” she asked with a smile, a bit surprised but also touched by his request.

Jamal nodded, his expression growing more confident. “Yeah. Actually…” He hesitated for a second, his lips curving into a playful smile. “Could you play ‘Wildest Dreams’ by Taylor Swift?”

Her eyes widened in surprise, a laugh escaping her lips. “Wildest Dreams?” she repeated, unable to hide her amusement. "I didn't know you liked Taylor Swift."

Jamal grinned, a little sheepish but unapologetic. “I like her music. And I know you play it sometimes when you think no one’s listening.” There was a teasing glint in his eyes as he added, “You’ve got a great voice too, you know.”

A warmth spread through her chest, his words making her feel both flustered and happy. She glanced at the guitar resting against the wall, suddenly excited at the idea of sharing this moment with him.

“Alright,” she said, picking up the guitar and settling back onto the couch. She adjusted it in her lap, her fingers brushing over the strings as she mentally prepared for the song. The melody of “Wildest Dreams” was one she loved playing—it was soft, dreamy, and the perfect request for a moment like this.

y/n glanced at Jamal as she began to play, strumming the opening chords. His eyes were locked on her, his expression relaxed but full of interest. The room filled with the gentle rhythm of the song, the familiar melody flowing from her fingertips as her voice joined in, softly singing the lyrics.

As she sang the line, “He’s so tall and handsome as hell,” hee eyes flicked up to meet his. The words slipped out almost unconsciously, but the moment her gaze locked with his, they took on a deeper meaning.

She couldn’t help the way her heart fluttered. Jamal’s quiet confidence, the way he looked at her, so focused and admiring—it made the line feel more personal. His lips curved into a soft smile, as though he knew exactly what she was thinking.

The song continued, but for a brief moment, the world outside disappeared, and it was just y/n, Jamal, and the tension in the room. The way he watched her—it was like the music had created a private space just for the two of them, where the emotions were more than what words or even music could express.

When the final note hung in the air, y/n looked at him, a little breathless. His eyes were shining with admiration, a small smile playing on his lips.

“That was…” he trailed off, seeming to search for the right words. “That was perfect.”

y/n smiled softly, warmth spreading through her chest. “I’m glad you liked it.”

Jamal leaned in slightly, his voice quiet and sincere. “You were incredible. You made it even better than the original.” he murmured, grabbing a piece of he rhair and twisting it around his finger

His words sent a rush of warmth through her, and for a moment, she was lost in the softness of his gaze, the bond between them now stronger than ever.

[myseungsunglove]

Don’t Mess with a Good Thing | Hjs

Pairing: Jisung x Reader

Warnings: All the fluff

Word Count: 2.8k

Summary: You’ve loved your best friend Han Jisung for as long as you can remember. Really there has only ever been him, but neither of you have ever owned up to it. Until one morning when everything changes.

A/N: I adapted this fic from many years ago when I used to write very regularly. Hope it works okay and that you enjoy it as much as I do.

◠ ◡ ◠᭚ιαᵕ̈

Feedback Welcome

「© July 31, 2023 by mysweethannie」

You sat on the balcony of the condo you shared with Jisung, Changbin, Chan, and Hyunjin watching the sun rise. Han Jisung had been your best friend since you were fourteen. The last nine years had been some of the best times of your life as well as some of the most trying and confusing.

When you first moved to Seoul to train at JYP, you didn’t really know anyone. At least not anyone training. Your family had moved away from South Korea to the States when you were five. You’d spent most of your formal school years there but always went to Seoul to visit grandparents. You spent every summer in Seoul and every summer your grandparents made sure your music lessons were always a priority and continued while you were with them.

Fast forward and it was 2014. You impulsively auditioned for JYP over the summer and got accepted into the training program. The entire trajectory of your life shifted in that moment. On the first day of training, you met Han Jisung. Somehow, over the course of the next three years you’d find yourself friends with Jisung, Chan, and Changbin, helping them produce music and lyrics for songs as you all trained together at JYP. It got even crazier when JYP himself allowed Chan to form a group of self selected members for trial debut and Chan pulled the biggest surprise on JYP he could have managed. He picked you along with 8 other guys. 1 girl, 9 guys. It was something JYP had never even thought to try. He made it pretty clear from the beginning he thought it’d never work when he decided to allow your group to compete on the Survival Show Stray Kids. He even eliminated members from your tight knit group in effort to derail your hopes of debuting as a unit, but you were dumbfounded that you were never in danger. When Minho and Felix had both been eliminated, you’d all been floored. Devastated. When they came back in the end, it was like you were whole again and gave one of the best performances of the show with all of you together. The rest was history. you’d all go on to debut as Stray Kids in 2018. During all of that, 3Racha1 was a constant and important pillar in your life. They had added the one to 3Racha when it was clear that you were an extremely important part of their unit and they wanted to move forward with you, whatever the cost may be. And of course the other members of what would become known as Stray Kids became like family as Chan intently and purposefully picked each one.

Han Jisung was the best friend you had ever had, though. You shared things with him that you wouldn’t dare tell another living, breathing soul. You were fairly certain that door swung both ways. You knew secrets about Jisung that you didn’t think any of the boys knew about him. That only seemed to strengthen your relationship and bond with Jisung. He was the most important person in your life. You lived with the boys so that you weren’t excluded from bonding with the group simply for being a girl. It worked out better than anyone really could have expected. When the one dorm was just too cramped for the nine of you after four years and it was time to split into two groups, the natural order suggested that 3Racha1 stay together. You guys would drag poor Hyunjin along for the ride, but you knew he secretly loved the chaos. Deep down. Maybe way deep down but it was there.

You sighed contentedly as you sipped your coffee, reminiscing about the last nine years and how the hell you had gotten to where you were in 2023, two days shy of leaving for fucking Paris to headline at Lollapalloza. It really all felt like a dream, but with the boys and especially Jisung by your side, you know it was all worth it.

You realized that you were in love with Jisung about a year and a half ago while prepping for the Oddinary comeback . You were always stubborn about admitting your feelings and letting yourself actually feel. If truth were to be told, you’d probably been in love with him most of your friendship. Who could blame you, really. The two of you acted like a married couple. You did everything that couples did short of making out and making love. Some days you desperately longed for that element of your relationship to blossom, but you were never sure if Jisung saw you as more than a friend or not. So you kept it strictly platonic. Ish.

He took you out on surprise date nights to quite corners where no one could find or bother you, you cuddled up together in bed and watched anime and Kdramas for hours on end on your days off hiding away from the world. He’d occasionally make you breakfast in bed which was always entertaining because he wasn’t the best cook, but he still liked to spoil you all the same. He’d often surprise you with plane tickets home when you had longer hiatuses, always insisting that he come along too. All of your friends at home would joke with him about when he was going to get you a ring and make it official. He’d laugh and say that you would never see it coming, winking at you as he pulled you into his side right where you belonged. It was the running joke every time you brought him home with you.

You weren’t really sure you were ever going to get the chance to tell him how you felt. You worried about the dynamics of the group and the viability of 3Racha1 if he didn’t return your feelings. Your mom always told you, “Don’t mess with a good thing, Y/N.” And who were you to screw up nine years of friendship? You cared about Jisung too much.

You took another sip of your coffee, pulling it close to you for warmth. A smile broke out across your face as the sun peeked out over the horizon. The warm golden yellow filled the air suddenly, taking your breath away.

“Beautiful,” Jisung said from the door behind you.

“It is, isn’t it?” you replied, turning and expecting to see him looking out at the gorgeous sunrise. Instead, his eyes were trained on you. He smiled at you as you cocked an eyebrow at him suspiciously. “What are you up to, Han Jisung?”

“I’ve been thinking,” he started, but you cut him off.

“Uh oh. Stop the press. Ji is thinking. We’re all in trouble!” you laughed as he sat down beside you.

“Seriously,” he chuckled, stealing your coffee from your hands and setting it on the coffee table, but not before taking a long drink from your cup and sighing contentedly.

“Hey! If I don’t drink that, I’ll be falling asleep on any surface I set foot on in the studio this morning. Give it back,” you whined, jutting your bottom lip out in a pout.

“God, I love you,” Jisung laughed, pulling you close into the crook of his side, right where you belonged.

“Damn straight you do,” you giggled as you wrapped your arms around his waist and snuggled into him, your face pressing close to his neck, your head resting gently on his broad shoulder. The air suddenly felt a little chilly and you burrowed closer to him, thankful that, for such a small person, he radiated heat like the sun.

Jisung kissed your temple, lingering longer than usual, inhaling deeply. You sighed. You really could stay like this forever. He spoke aloud what you were thinking.

“I could stay here just like this forever,” he said, pulling you closer, the tips of his fingers ghosting your skin where your shirt was riding up slightly. You shivered in response and his fingers dug into your bare skin lightly. “Only one thing would make it better,” he mumbled.

You placed your hand on his chest and pushed yourself up, so that you could look into his beautiful brown eyes.

“What could possibly make this better, dude?” you glared, pretending to be insulted that you weren’t enough to make the moment perfect. In truth, you were a little disappointed.

“This,” Jisung answered, his free hand landing on the base of your neck, pulling your lips to his. A jolt of electricity shot through you. You had only dreamt of this moment. Was this a dream?

His lips moved against yours with reverence, his tongue swiping over your bottom lip and daring into your mouth.

You pulled away, breathless. “Ji,” you whispered, your fingers running along the base of his hairline, the muscles in his neck responding to your touch.

He reached for his pocket, pulling something small from it. “That and this,” he said with a smile, holding the most beautiful ring you had ever seen.

You were speechless. Tears pooled in your eyes as you tried to process what was happening. Jisung spoke before you could form a sentence.

“I love you. You’re my best friend. I tell you everything. You are the person I spend 99% of my time thinking about. I think about how I can make you laugh. How I can make you smile. God, I think about what your lips would feel like against mine and damn if I wasn’t right. I’m cursing myself for not acting sooner,” he said, kissing you deeply once more. The connection was real and intense and you’d never felt anything like it before. The way his lips moved against yours, it’s like they were meant to be yours and yours alone.

He pulled away hesitantly, you chasing after his now kiss swollen lips. He chuckled softly.

“I think about how I’ve been madly in love with you for years, and how I think you love me too. I think about how you are the person I want to come home to everyday for the rest of my life. I think about what it would be like to make love to you, and I lose my mind. You make me lose my mind in the best way possible. That’s when I realized I wanted you to be my wife. What we have right now is a thousand times better than most couples I know, and we aren’t even dating. We’re better. I finally figured out the only thing we were missing was you having my last name and me knowing beyond a shadow of a doubt that you are mine and I am yours. From the moment I met you, I knew there wouldn’t be anyone else baby,” Jisung finished, smiling at you, wiping away the tears that were steadily falling down your cheeks.

“Ji,” you whispered, pulling his lips to yours with passion. Once you were both rendered breathless again, Jisung pulled away hesitantly, not wanting to let you go now that he really had you for the first time.

“Y/N, will you marry me? I know we’re skipping a few steps and the boys will have to adjust, but this couldn’t feel more right,” he said, taking your hand and holding the ring in his other hand, looking at you like you held his entire world in your answer. In truth, the guys all treated you like you were together anyway. This wouldn’t really change anything except making it official. Sure you’d have hoops to jump through with the company, but you knew Chan would help you guys navigate those waters. Since he was like a big brother to you and Jisung, he was more than aware of your feelings for each other, both of you having confided in him over the years.

“Jisung, I love you. Yes. I’ll marry you. It’s always been you. It will always be you,” you said through tears as he slid the perfect ring onto your finger. You were marrying your best friend. The love of your life all without the pressures of dating.

“I told you you’d never see it coming,” Jisung smiled, kissing your temple.

“I always thought you were joking,” you grinned, beaming from ear to ear.

“I’m glad. If you thought that I was serious it would have ruined my plan. I could not have been more serious, baby.”

“My family is gonna to be shocked,” you laughed, staring at the ring as it sparkled in the morning light.

“I don’t think so,” Jisung smiled. “They saw the way I looked at you when you weren’t looking. Your dad told me the last time we were there that I better take good care of you. That he knew where to find me. Said he would be proud to have a son like me. Someone who loved his daughter so unconditionally,” Han confessed.

Your hand flew to your mouth. “He didn’t,” you gasped with a giggle.

“He did, but Y/N he couldn’t have been more right. I had the ring then. I’ve had it for almost a year,” Jisung revealed.

“Wow,” you managed as Jisung’s lips fell on yours again, his hand roaming your sides hungrily, slowly pushing the fabric of your night shirt up. His lips traveled down your neck, leaving a trail of goosebumps in their wake. The way his touch set you on fire only served to confirm that being with him was always meant to be. You were on a collision course to this moment and neither of you had known.

Jisung was your best friend. Now fiance. You couldn’t wait to call him your husband, you thought as his lips traveled your body, showing you just how much he loved every inch of you.

“Is it done?” A chorus of voices rang out onto the patio, startling you and Jisung apart.

“Oh god!” Hyunjin cried when he saw Jisung’s hand up your shirt, laying across you on the bench.

“My eyes!” Chan mocked, covering his eyes.

“I think it’s done,” Changbin laughed.

You sat up, straightening your clothes and easing a very reluctant Han off of you as he settled down by your side.

“You’re looking at the future Mrs. Han Jisung,” he boasted, his hand holding yours as he showed the boys your ring.

“Bout fucking time,” Chan laughed which made all of you laugh in turn. “We should all get moving along. I’m pretty sure the early bird house is probably all already ready for the celebration breakfast. They actually sleep at night, unlike us,” he chortled with a yawn.

“Celebration breakfast?” you questioned, looking at Jisung. “Did everyone know about this?”

He smiled mischievously. “Maybe,” he admitted.

Your mouth dropped open in shock. “How did Jeongin not spill the beans?” You laughed. “Hell, how did you all keep this locked down so long?”

“Chan, Minho, and Seungmin are the only ones that have known longer than a week,” Jisung laughed. “The rest of these knuckleheads couldn’t have been trusted to keep their mouths shut.” He glanced at Hyunjin.

“Hey! I resent that,” Hyunjin pouted.

“You know he’s right,” Changbin laughed, clapping Hyunjin on the back.

You smiled fondly at them, leaning in to kiss Han once more. His hand came to rest on your cheek as he pressed closer to you once more.

“Alrighty,” Chan said, clapping his hands together and walking back inside, dragging the other two with him. “Don’t get too handsy, you two. We should probably leave within the hour before Minho shows up at our doorstep,” he warned with a chuckle.

“Shit,” you mumbled against Jisung’s mouth. “Can’t have that. Between him and Seungmin, we will never hear the end of being late even if this is all about us,” you laughed.

Jisung tossed his head back, a belly laugh emitting from him at the thought.

“You’re so right. Better get moving,” he agreed, jumping up and offering you his hand, the most beautiful smile on his face. You took it, the stupidest, happiest smile plastered on your own. He pulled you close, kissing you slowly once more. “Damn,” he sighed. “Why haven’t we been doing this all along? I’m never gonna get enough of you,” he admitted with a low growl against your lips.

“I’m all yours, Han Jisung. Tonight I’ll show you just what that means,” you promised, running your hand along his chest as you walked past him back into the house, heading for the shower.

“Fuck,” he whispered, watching you walk away, daring a glance back at him with a wink. “How about you show me now,” he teased, chasing after you which caused you to take off toward the bathroom. You reached it before he could catch you and closing the door and locking it behind you. “Sorry, babe. Guess you’ll have to wait,” you teased. You heard him sigh and moan, slumping against the door momentarily.

“Just you wait, y/n,” he warned. “Just you wait,” he repeated as he trudged down the hall to his own room to get ready.

You leaned against the door with a happy sigh. You couldn’t believe how much your life had changed in the last hour and you couldn’t be more excited for the changes it meant for the future. You were engaged to Han Jisung. You were the luckiest girl in the world.

[sadnightforus]

[2:20 PM] It’s 5:32 pm, or at least, the time that you last checked to be. You both are standing by the riverside, listening to music as you’re sharing an AirPod on each side of the ear. 

 If you’re asking yourself why you find yourself at this exact moment, it’s because you and him are the best of friends. But everybody and their families seem to be completely convinced that you and Hong Seunghan have something going on. 

 They’re not wrong for speculating about it. You are convinced that you both feel something for each other, but however, neither you or him are able to bring up the secret feelings for each other without ruining the good friendship you both shared. Worse, what if he doesn’t like you back and everything he has done for you was just coming from a place of genuine kindness that views you in nothing but in a friend way? 

“This song’s good.” He comments. You nod along because it’s your first time hearing it and the drums already catch your attention. 

 Truthfully, you’d argue that the song is better than just being good, no, it’s a masterpiece. The Melodies evoke a steady emotion, the one that makes you explode with happiness when you’re thinking about him. 

“Is it your first time hearing this song too?” He questions, seeing how quiet you are when you’re trying to observe something. 

“Yes. I like it.” You say, trying to avoid direct eye contact with him because you know that you’ll lose yourself to him if you dare losing yourself into the gigantic world that shines so brightly in his gaze. 

 You observe his beautiful face and you think about how odd it is that if you tell your younger self that you’ll grow up to like your male best friend, you’d laugh at yourself while also coaching on why falling for your best friend is not an ideal situation and would most likely cause heartbreak. But you’ve never been good with following the rules, all that you know is that you like to follow your heart. 

 Then you turn to look at the river, then at the bridge where lines of cars keep driving past the both of you. The soft rhythm of the wind blows discoordinate his hair just a bit and you almost lose your breathe at how magical he looks at this very moment as you both share an AirPod. 

“The static and the noise, 

You got my attention

You make me wanna….

Live like it’s the last moon rising

Scream just like no one’s there

Lose all of my defenses 

Hold you, touch you, love you like it’s 

A very last moment in time.” 

 You’re stunned. 

 What was that?

 You turn to look at him, eyes wide in confusion as his face mirrors yours, but his expression was more panicked and anxious if anything else. 

“Did you pick that song on purpose?” You question, find yourself troubled when confronted with such a situation. 

 Although you wish that it’s not just a pure coincidence that the song includes such lyrics, you still think it’s almost impossible that he’d reciprocate your affection and it’s not just a one sided longing coming from you. 

“Would it be a lie if I said no?” He speaks slowly, his eyes now hold so much hope and love behind it. 

 It clears all of your doubts from earlier, as how serious he needs your love, just as much as you need his. You proceed with the next question, not daring to speak as loud as you once were. 

“Do you mean what you said?” 

“Yes, I do.” He answers more clearly, remaining in eye contact. Which almost makes you more self conscious and you wonder how blind you had been to sweep off his sweet actions as just things that friends do. 

“For how long have you been feeling like that?” 

“It’s been 6 years now, I think.” 

 He likes you for that long?

 It’s unbelievable that he takes an interest in you as a person, romantically for a long time. You only stopped denying your feelings for him just 2 years ago and you spent years denying and self-rejecting from the growing feelings for him for how long, ever since you both became friends 8 years ago. But all those times that you were trying to stop yourself from looking at him in more than just a friendly way, he was pining after you?  

 Your head spins and you feel like you’re suddenly so dizzy. You’re about to cry and you want to ground yourself the high you’ve experienced. 

“You like me too, right? Please tell me that I’m not reading the signs wrong.” He whispers out so quietly, you almost didn’t catch it if not for the closeness you both share. 

“You’re not.” You shake your head in disagreement. He takes a big breath, you can sense he’s anxious as the next word escapes his lips.

“I love you, Y/N.” And you look up as you’re smiling, letting the tears fall from happiness as you copy his words.

“I love you too, Seunghan.”

You let your tears slip as you bury your face into his chest. The music is long forgotten even though it’s still playing in your ear. 

 As the sun begins to set, the music still hums in both of you guys’ ears without both of you wanting to pause it. The beautiful scenery is there to cheer you onto the next step you’re taking with him.

 And in that moment, there is nothing that reflects his eyes or yours brighter than the love and affection that each of you burn yourself with for each other.

COPYRIGHTED BY SADNIGHTFORUS, 2023

A/N: A very last moment in time by lindsay lohan inspired this. and omg it’s 954, I’m losing it fr

reblogs, comments and likes are appreciated!

[untitled5071]

I have a Lisa Frankenstein request! If you'd rather not, thats totally okay, but I'd love a modern au of them going to a my chemical romance concert. ^^ it's for me and for one of my friends too, and it would really mean a lot to us! Thank you so much for doing what you do!

I hope you like it!

🪦🪦🪦🪦🪦🪦🪦🪦🪦

“Oh my god oh my god, I think this is it!” 

Even though Lisa’s eyes were trained on the stage in front of her, her arms were busy shaking the daylights out of her husband, her hands on his shoulders while he chuckled adoringly at her enthusiasm. He wasn’t doing too good of a job at hiding his own, either; this concert may have been a gift for Lisa while they ‘traveled’ through Mexico as part of their “don’t get caught by the police” world tour, but he was excited too. 

They hadn’t been to a concert in a long time; after Lisa was reanimated and recovered, the two of them had gotten as far away from Brookside as they could potentially get, and once the dust settled, they decided to do a little traveling to see what the modern world could offer them. They had no end of potential date ideas, but they both particularly liked live music. 

Though their favorite of all time would always be the private one given in the living room of Lisa’s old home, they both enjoyed being among other music lovers and shouting lyrics like maniacs. Granted, he knew he wouldn’t be doing much shouting tonight in the sea of people they found themselves in-both because he knew he wouldn’t be heard and because shouting just wasn’t in the cards tonight, but it was all worth it for the sake of seeing Lisa so happy. 

Speaking of Lisa, her declaration that the show was starting seemed to be right on the money, since the lights were starting to dim, the anticipatory roar of the crowd was starting to get louder and cell phone flashlights were starting to flick on like illuminated eyes across the arena. The creature divided his attention between Lisa and the stage as the sound of a heart monitor was projected over the screams of the fans, and she grabbed his stitched-on hand in a vice grip when a gurney containing a covered body was rolled onstage. 

Lisa’s cheers joined that of the rest of the crowd when the body revealed itself to be the lead singer, clad in a hospital gown over his signature dark outfit and clutching a microphone. The first song was ironically called “The End”, and as the creature expected, Lisa sang every word at the top of her lungs, teased hair flying in every direction as she bounced along to the beat.

He knew buying her that second hand iPod Nano last year was a good idea. 

The first verse ended with Gerard Way ripping off his hospital gown as the biggest curtain they had ever seen opened to reveal the rest of the band, already whaling away on their respective instruments. They all wore black outfits and parade marshal’s jackets (which seemed fitting), and they weren’t the only ones who had dressed the part. 

Lisa had spent hours trying to pick the perfect combination of tights and tops for this concert (all black, of course), and had finally settled on black fishnet tights that she had torn and woven back together herself with more colorful embroidery thread (sticking heavily to purple and green to match her husband’s stitched limbs), a black tulle miniskirt and a black sports bra under a mesh top, complete with black and dark-gray striped arm warmers, to match the fashion of the time. He himself was wearing a leather jacket over a deep red shirt, and his best ripped jeans that Lisa distressed for him, in more ways than one. They blended in perfectly with the ocean of punks around them, and that was just fine by them. 

The band cycled through their set with infectious energy and an electric stage presence, and the creature was surprised that the stadium they were in didn’t collapse under the weight of the stomping and jumping the audience was doing. He was particularly fascinated by the mosh pit that had formed towards the font; it was mesmerizing to see all of those bodies moving in such a disjointed but synchronized way that anyone could immediately understand was dangerous if not done properly. He had to respect it, honestly. 

The biggest problem with it, on the other hand, was that it was blocking their view of the stage, and by the time the band’s most popular started (signaled by a single note that was almost drowned out by the crowd), the frenzied movements of the people closer to the stage got more intense, as did the noise level. 

Lisa was staining herself on her tiptoes to see over the screaming heads in front of them, and when her husband noticed this, he put a hand on her shoulder gently, shuffling in the limited space that they had so that his back was to her, and squatted down slightly. Lisa got the hint immediately and hopped onto his back, and he hoisted her up so she could see over the several hundred flip phones being used to record the show and get a better view of the stage. She was delighted by this plan, holding onto him with her thighs and one hand while waving her other hand in the air, mirroring Gerard on stage. And even though her voice was meshing with thousands of others, even that of the actual lead singer, the creature thought her voice was the clearest and most beautiful of them all. 

She must have been able to feel his adoring gaze somehow, because as the song ended in a shower of confetti and pyrotechnics, she bent down and kissed his right cheek first, then his left, whispering (or, given the noisy circumstance) said in a normal speaking voice, 

“Thank you. I love you so much.”

And though he was particularly tongue-tied that evening and unable to speak the words back, he hoped that the kiss he gave her amidst the crowd’s raucous applause spoke his feelings adequately. 

They stayed that way as the concert continued, the creature keeping Lisa safe in the arms collapsed around where she was perched on his back and Lisa sneaking little kisses or playing with his hair in between songs, and as the band played one of their slower pieces, the two undead souls swayed together, united in their love of music and each other. 

These are the eyes and the lies of the taken

These are their hearts but their hearts don't beat like ours

They burn 'cause they are all afraid

When mine beats twice as hard

'Cause the world is ugly

But you're beautiful to me

[dragonfly0808]

Musa’s Discography Pt. 1

Yes, I spend way too long thinking about stuff like this about my characters leave me alone ajajajjaaa

But srly like 2 people have asked me about this and I’ve spent way too long thinking about what Musa discography would actually be like so… here is her discography with a way too detailed description of why I chose each of the songs, I had way too much fun with this.

First EP. Written in the later half of s2 and before s3 published in the summer between s2 and s3

I had no specific ‘theme’ for this one, just songs I felt fit Musa’s mentality and would be cool for her first project

For the first EP, which consists of:

The Beginning by Madison Beer.

I just really love this intro it’s a gorgeous showcase of vocals and it’s beautiful and perfect.

I Hate the Way by Sofia Carson.

I love this song. Musa would base if mostly off of Riven’s epic screw up in s2 ch27. Also the guitar solo part feels perfect for her.

Whispers by Halsey.

I can’t quite explain why but this song is so Musa-coded to me. At least my version of her. She builds walls up and tries to not care and fails miserably every time. Also touches slightly on the depression that she def never adressed before going to Alfea and meeting the girls

Run and Hide by Sabrina Carpenter.

I feel like this song fits Musa’s mentality in s1 and part of s2 perfectly especially when it comes to romantic love. ‘Started thinking love’s a loaded gun, nobody wants to fight’ ‘If you can’t hide run, if you can’t run hide’ ‘I don’t wanna run I don’t wanna hide’ it’s just perfect for how she used to think and I really love the idea of her writing this precisely as she starts to let go of that mentality

favorite crime by Olivia Rodrigo.

This would be a more story-telling type song written with Helia cause I feel like putting those two together they would absolutely go full story tellers and poem-like lyrics and this feels like smth they would absolutely write one night they couldn’t sleep cause they love a good sob love story

Ribs by Lorde.

Written about the Winx and the Specialists with a sprinkle of dreading growing up

Second EP. Written during the first half of s3, published right before Winter Break

This one did have a slight ‘theme’ to it since it was mostly written while she was fighting with Riven over secrets on both sides and she was very frustrated with herself and projecting a bit on him.

Hard to Love by Rose.

This feels very Musa-coded to me. She has that instinct of ‘oh shoot I’m loved? Fucking run for the hills!’ But more like… again, she builds walls. So I can see her writing this one night very frustrated with herself like, why am I like this?

Rock Bottom by Hailee Steinfeld.

I love this song and I feel like it suits Rivusa so perfectly in the first half of s3 ‘We’re on the right side of rock bottom and I hope that we keep falling. We’re on the good side of bad karma, cause we keep on coming back for more. We’re on the right side of rock bottom, and to you I just keep crawling. You’re the best kind of bad smth, cause we keep on coming back for more.’ Literally them at this point before they learn to properly communicate. Also ‘what are we fighting for? Seems like we do it just for fun.’ Love this song

Monster in Me by Little Mix.

Another song that suits them when they’re at rock bottom. ‘Touch me, why don’t we kill each other slowly?’ ‘The monster in me loves the monster in you’. Def can see Musa writing this when she’s frustrated with herself and Riv cause she knows why they’re both screwed up but can’t quite figure out how to get past it

when the party’s over by Billie Eilish.

This was when, for a moment Musa considered just calling it quits cause she wonders if maybe they’re both too fucked up to make it work and she wrote this whilst in depression. She also realized that she was hurting him by picking fights and not being honest and wrote this in response to that realization

Midnight Rain by Taylor Swift.

This one was also co-written by Helia, they went for another story-telling not-to-be love story.

False God by Taylor Swift.

Another song that feels oh so Rivusa-coded to me. Like, cmon this is one of those songs that played in the back of my head every single time I had them argue in s3 and feels like the perfect song to end an album all about fighting the one you love

Winx Rewrite Masterlist

Part 2

[gellavonhamster]

13 books meme

Tagged by @littlestsnicket (thank you ❤)

1) The Last book I read: One Piece Novel Heroines by Jun Esaka, which I've already been posting about enough not to elaborate here

2) A book I recommend: can I copy your homework plagiarize the answer to this from the person who tagged me? Jonathan Strange and Mr. Norrell by Susanna Clarke. I know a lot of people find it too long or just not their cup of tea, but it's one of my all-time favourites, one of those books that feel like they were written for me specifically, and I cannot help recommending it to others :)

3) A book that I couldn’t put down: I remember reading TFOTA #2 and #3 (The Wicked King and The Queen of Nothing by Holly Black) in a single day. I was feeling unwell, and it was cold outside anyway, so I just spent most of the day reading in bed. I recall being surprised by how engrossed I was - the first book of this series didn't grow on me until well into its second half.

4) A book I’ve read twice (or more): I have this sideblog on Twitter where I post a quote from Dracula per day (yes, manually, I don't know how to make bots lol). I just move down the text and skim it and pick sentences that catch my eye, and when I reach the end, I start from the beginning again. So, in a way, I am constantly in the process of rereading Dracula

5) A book on my TBR: Chrétien de Troyes' Perceval and a bunch of its continuations, Lolly Willowes by Sylvia Townsend Warner

6) A book I’ve put down: the thing is, if I don't really enjoy a book but still can find a good thing or two about it, I will keep reading and hoping it will improve eventually, and if I don't enjoy a book at all, I forget about it as soon as I put it down. Out of sight, out of mind - unless I particularly hate it. When I try to think of any books of the latter kind, the first to come to my mind usually is A Discovery of Witches. I found the worldbuilding really interesting, but damn, the protagonists were so annoying that I wasn't going to struggle through that brick of a book for it.

7) A book on my wish list: I need to get a copy of The Bad Beginning, The Wide Window, and The Hostile Hospital, and then I'll have the entire ASOUE collected! Would also love to get any other Snicketverse books; I only have Poison for Breakfast - bought it literally last weekend. I could buy them online, of course, but: 1) I prefer to avoid online shopping if there is realistic possibility for me to come across that item offline; 2) accidentally stumbling onto these books in bookshops (especially second-hand ones) when I least expect them feels like such a right experience for this series that I am inclined to continue acquiring them that way.

8) A favorite book from childhood: Winnie-the-Pooh and The House at Pooh Corner... truly formative shit, responsible for at least 50% of my sense of humour

9) A book you would give to a friend: I was at my friend's place recently and noticed she had the exact same copy of Something Wicked This Way Comes by Ray Bradbury as I do. When I told her about it, she told me it was I who gave her that book (I forgot 🤦‍♀️) and that she loves it and rereads it almost every autumn :') So this one has definitely passed the test.

10) A book of poetry or lyrics that you own: I have a whole shelf full of poetry books, in fact. At least half of them weren't bought by me, but by my family members long before I was born, but presently all of them are considered mine :D Those that I bought myself include collections of poems by Christina Rossetti, Emily Dickinson, Elizabeth Barrett Browning, Oscar Wilde, and Marina Tsvetaeva, among other things. And Useless Magic by Florence Welch!

11) A nonfiction book you own: I stumbled upon The Republic of Pirates by Colin Woodard in the same second-hand bookshop where I bought all the parts of ASOUE I currently have and couldn't believe my luck - I really wanted to read it after watching Black Sails! It's great.

12) What are you currently reading: Tristan and Isolde. Restoring Palamede by John Erskine. Really enjoying it so far; it sort of demystifies/disenchants Arthuriana but without excessive cynicism, with the narrator being understanding, perhaps even compassionate, when describing the characters' very realistic, human flaws. Technically I'm also reading E. W. Hornung's short stories about Raffles and Bunny through the Letters from Bunny Substack, but it's more like "desperately trying to catch up and failing". The stories themselves are delightful, but I was right to suspect that this way of reading books is not for me.

13) What are you planning on reading next? Dracula in Istanbul (the Turkish translation/adaptation of Dracula), courtesy of @seawilde <3

tagging @afoxnamedmulder, @seawilde, @lefresne, @uupiic, and @snckt; as always, feel free to ignore if you don't want to answer :)

[chemicalarospec]

My Death Note Playlists (prt 1 of my fav lyrics)

They're basically all "emo" btw.

I have two: the full playlist

and the "canon compliant" version -- which does NOT mean the songs support a canon-compliant interpretation, but that they were released before 2010. Canon timeline, you see, ignoring the 9/11 thing. (I'm a little more picky with this one in general.)

Okay now I'm just going to highlight my favorite lyrics that I blorbo brain all over (predominantly Light, and lots of Lawlight ranging from platonic murder to romantic lovers to romantic murder). It will be long, so here's a cut!

I'll pick out songs going down "full playlist" in order.

"Liar (It Takes One to Know One)" by Taking Back Sunday

Obvious, but "we're all choir boys at best" deserves attention. "It takes one to know one" shouted at the end -- all of Light and L knowing each other better than anyone.

"Juneau" by Funeral for a Friend

"I'm nothing more than a line in your book." Hey, I didn't say all these connections were good.

"Spin" by Taking Back Sunday

The whole thing is very Light to L.

"Looking for a Tornado" by Chiodos

Maybe I got a little lost while searching for my faith stuck to your cross You set fire to everything around [...] Do I believe in love; do I believe in heaven? (At the sound of church bells, they come running) All my clocks stuck on eleven; afraid if I hit my knees, I might get nothing

^ Lawlight /romantic intent /sexual intent

This is the sound of your savior running in need of anything to save you from nothing

^ bonus God/savior complex Light

"Always and Never" by Silverstein - "Don't have a heart attack"

"War Crimes" by Waterparks

kinda Light and Misa. "I wear a smile that's about a mile wide" lol. and "My death will be the fandom [sic]" for L.

"The Words 'Best Friend' Become Redefined" by Chiodos

The title as their fake-friendship-with-murderous-intent. Lyrics as romantic dying Lawlight. +"To hide from our twisted ways/I've been hiding in this bed"

"Fist Wrapped in Blood" by Silverstein

I love toxic couples. Cannibalism couples. Violence couples. (Some tntduo vibes in this one too, xoxo tntduo, still kinda my OTP.) "A Midwestern State Of Emergency" for similar reasons (we got the wild line "Bound and gagged but I enjoy it") + "Your saving grace, my final rites"

"One Day All Women Will Become Monsters" by Chiodos <3

That title but also "Always being the blind villain" -> Blind Lady Justice Light Yagami!!! + "Rip the haunting smirk from his face"

"Thank You for the Venom" by My Chemical Romance

Now I want to listen to Three Cheers looking for Death Note songs. (If I wasn't still finishing tntduo demolition lovers, Death Note demolition lovers would be sooo in.) Anyways: "I keep a gun on the book you gave me."

"Hard to Breathe" by Hawthorne Heights

"I spent my whole life lying/I just got caught." This one gets a big heading b/c that line is still the working title for my Light fic (yeah, it'll get posted. one day).

"There's no Penguins in Alaska" by Chiodos is a rare Misa moment on the playlist.

"Timberwolves at New Jersey" by Taking Back Sunday

"Literate and stylish/kissable and quiet/that's what girls' dreams are made of" and "This is you trying hard to make sure that you're seen/With a girl on your arm and your heart on your sleeve" = Light. Plus, the "me at my worst (committing murder)" theme of second half of the song

"Where Can I Stab Myself in the Ears" by Hawthorn Heights - "This is the ending, here's my surrender" & the complementing each other bridge theme. and lying.

"Why the Munsters Matter" by Chiodos

"I don't want to fit into your world/your heart/I hope I scare you"!!!!! It's NOT what happens in Death Note but it IS what Light and L are about IN MY HEAD.

"Ole Fishlips is Dead Now" is another rare Misa song. The "she's in love with herself" line but the subject is Light.

"Goldmine" by Paper Tigers

(link leads to song b/c the band is pretty indie)

Maybe that's something I admire Maybe you've made another enemy of me ... You goldmine Every little thing that you say It blows away my mind ... They say that pride proceeds the fall And that the sword is weaker than the pen

rare L to Light song on the playlist

"Your Sword Versus My Dagger" by Silverstein

Another Discovering the Waterfront track. "I'm cutting through, you're bleeding out/And I would tell the truth, but I can't help myself" + "I wasn't asking for the world" as another Light inverse/lying line (or kinda Misa) + "And I can see your face, and I can hear your name" in reference to Death Note rules lol.

"Is it Progression If A Cannibal Uses A Fork?" by Chiodos

"Listen up, sweetie!/We all know that you're a beautiful girl in this horrible world." - Light lol

"The solemn tolling of the funeral bells. I want to know what's going on in that pretty little head of yours where everyday's a Bone Palace Ballet."

"Divine Intervention" by Taking Back Sunday

rare soft song -- cutesy by Lawlight standards

Despondent, distracted You're vicious and romantic These are a few of my favorite things ... Something real, make it timeless An act of God and nothing less will be accepted ... We're stubborn and melodramatic A real class act

~a little skipping ahead to songs I wrote up out of order... part two will probably come next week!~

"The Brothers Karamazov" by The Used

all of it. but especially "I'm more than just my father's son" as an inverse of Light who is so little more than the son of a cop, "I see myself in everything I hate about you/I shut my mouth to stop myself from sounding like you" as him and L, and "Take me away from who I could become" as the conflict between Light and the influence of the Death Note.

"Chemicals" by Armor for Sleep

Lyrics about "you" dying ("I can picture your coffin"!!!) and the general vibe and:

And I’m on my back, on your floor. Tell me how you fooled the world again, I like how you laugh when you tell it

^ both L and Misa work. Light's evil laugh.

Play dead, cause I’ll be playing dead with you. I’ll play you when you’re dead in a year or two.

^ Light pretending to be L after he's dead.

"Three Simple Words" by Finch

"My hand's around your throat/who will stop me now?" !!! throwback to "Until the Day I Die", which I didn't highlight but also has "hands at your throat". I like the aggressive & repetitive usage in this song better. Light to L, of course.

Tune in next week for more of the same! (btw I had a lot going on so it's still not up but will edit this when I do it)