#they could be so messy and have so much mutual healing together

[martianbugsbunny]

Call me stupid but I've been Tylorca trash since that first episode they were in together

[mortal-song]

the problem with tua's ending is that it was IMPOSSIBLE to do without retconning and defacing the themes and characterizations that have been central to the story since the very first episode. if you had to end it that way, if it really was "the plan all along," then fine. there ARE good ways to do that -- so the execution should have been much different here if that was the case. take a look at "the good place," for example. everyone ceased to exist at the end of that story as well, but it was beautifully done because it ADDED to the show's core themes rather than take away from them. tua's ending was hollow and unavailing. at some point i have to commend the precision with which someone can desecrate an entire series and certain characters (looking at five, diego and lila especially) like this.

it made no sense. diego and lila formed a beautiful (albeit chaotic) relationship built upon mutual trust and authentic love that neither of them had ever experienced before. it was something they were teaching each other and learning together. that was a new beginning to them, and it was painted as such by the narrative. at no point were there hints that things would go sideways, no build up. every time they stumbled in the past it was still right back into each other's arms. at no point did their chaos look like an ending until it was shoved in our faces for... shock value? to shake things up? i fail to understand where it came from. they were relentlessly devoted to each other and the only two people who could stand each other for long. and so what became of them was very jarring. very messy.

five's ENTIRE character has been focused on and motivated by one thing: saving the people he loves. to the point that he was willing to let his own humanity become a forgone ideal, a renounced concept, as many times as it took. to the point that he essentially INVENTED TIME TRAVEL and INVENTED THE COMMISSION TO REGULATE IT. five's stoic exterior only barely concealed the claw-grip he had on every single family member, so why forget it now? why choose to go back on that? and in what world would five hargreeves willingly wait MONTHS to return to his family? because he was SUDDENLY in love with lila, no less? forgetting the very apparent fact that his age and body are not in alignment, five had never shown any interest in romance. especially not towards lila. but they do have very similar backgrounds, and so this was a chance to enrich the mutual understanding five and lila have with each other, expand the familial connections they have, especially seeing as how both of them -- in their own ways -- spent most of their life without that sort of connection.

ben's entire arc felt so, so out of place. completely and very ironically isolated from the entire rest of the series. nothing about it was fulfilling, nothing about it offered any sense of closure or even development. jennifer made no sense even as a plot device, much less as her own character. these two brought out nothing in each other.

klaus had the foundations of a good arc, but too much was introduced in too small an amount of time and none of it really went anywhere. i can say roughly the same for allison and viktor. THAT being said, of most of the scenes i did find myself genuinely enjoying this season, THOSE three were usually at the center! in fact, i really did love the scenes with klaus, allison, and claire. so that's cool. i guess. luther? he was just kind of... there?

and ray just fucked off with no explanation? okay. and reginald? until this point he had all the qualities of a potentially VERY GOOD and nuanced villain. his arc fell flat. and let's not forget all the other loose ends, but, you know, we've been here long enough. so. onto the next point.

none of these characters got to heal. none of them ever got to revel in anything meaningful, or, rather, the things that WERE meaningful across the whole series were rendered worthless because... none of it exists anymore! none of it ever existed! this is like an "it was all a dream" ending but much worse. and these characters are so, so incredible. i can only name a few other stories that have had characters i've connected to this deeply. and despite everything i could never really stop loving them. that makes it hurt more though tbh

anyways. i know i'm about to sound incredibly dramatic but the ending made me sob my lungs out. this show was really important to me. it led me to incredible people, other incredible stories, helped me live, etc. but i honestly found myself wishing i'd just never watched this series at all. the ending was eviscerating and Just Fucking Pointless. i don't think i'm ever going to be able to rewatch it. it's still hard for me to conceptualize that it was even real, that this is all we get. there's a lot more i could say about everything, but again, i've said a lot already and i'm not trying to write a fucking novel. i'll say more of what i want to in sporadic bursts i guess.

[mazeinthemiroh]

something more.

Genre: Drabble; Fluff, Slight angst, Friends to lovers/Situationship?

Warnings: cursing, reader has major commitment issues

Synopsis: You are afraid of overstepping the lines from friends to lovers. But San? San isn't afraid of something more...

"Don't you wish for something else?"

You looked up from your phone. You and San both were sitting on either end of the sofa, far apart, and yet your feet were resting atop each other's quite naturally. "Hmm?"

"Don't you wish," San hesitated, his eyes glued to his own device as he racked his brains to formulate a sentence. "Don't you wish for something more?"

A small smile played on his lips. You knew what he meant; knew what he was asking. He was cheeky like this; always making suggestions about 'what ifs' and 'maybes' that you eventually shut down. As you would do again, this night.

"No," you said, after thinking for a bit. "This is nice... is it not?"

"Yeah," San replied immediately, his voice ever so soft, "Yes this is nice."

Friendship was a tricky thing. Or, it was for you two, at least. It would be easy if you were both on the same page. But you never were. It's not like there were any major miscommunications between the two of you. It was just... you both had a mutual yearning to be together, forever.

San is more of a romantic than you ever were. But you had made your boundaries: friends only. That's it.

But you felt you were thoroughly deceiving yourself. When you look at San, the one you call your best friend, your cheeks start to burn. Your heart starts to quicken. There's a light in your eyes when you hear his name; a smile on your lips when you hear his voice. Perhaps these weren't just feelings of friendship after all?

And it didn't help that San kept questioning the bond you shared with each other. He felt a massive attraction and he hoped, he prayed, that he wasn't the only one to feel it. And he could feel, just by the way you looked at him, your feelings matched his, whether you spoke them or not. He wasn't going to give up.

Stubborn bastard...

You gazed over at him from across the sofa. "Just lay off it, okay?"

San tutted and shook his head, "You know I can't do that."

"Why?" You felt a spark of defiance ripple inside you as you dropped your phone on the pillow that rested on top of your lap.

For a moment San looked pained. And then he smiled softly and shrugged, "I just can't."

"That's not good enough," you said harshly, but he just smiled. You weren't going to push him away, even if you tried.

"I know," he started, breathing out a gentle sigh before shuffling closer to you. He reached out to hold your hand in his, but you flinched as he did so.

He rubbed his thumb on your palm to calm you.

"I know you think that we might ruin something special," San's fingers started to fiddle with yours, "but I don't think you should let that get in the way when it's us. You and me. There's nothing you can say or do that will make me stop loving you."

You didn't look San in the eye because you felt tears start to form, touched by his words.

"Crossing the line between friends to... more..." your hands were stiff in his, even as he tried to relax you, "it's risky. Friendship is safe. Friendship is light. Relationships... they're serious and complicated."

"Yes," San nodded, "they're messy and unpredictable and fiery sometimes. But have we not been through stuff like that as friends already?"

You didn't respond to him, but your hand relaxed in his. You let his fingers trail over your skin, soothing you in the tenderest of ways.

With his other hand, he cupped the side of your face, lifting your chin up to meet his gaze. There was so, so, so much love shining in his eyes. Love that he couldn't possibly think to put into words because, well, the feelings were just too pure.

You looked at each other like this, until he leaned forward to place a kiss on your forehead. What felt like a big hole in your heart had suddenly healed. He stayed there, like that, lips connected to your forehead, before he pulled you into an embrace, resting his chin on top of your head as your face nestled into the crook of his neck.

And you breathed. And you relaxed, fully in his grasp.

And you realised that he was the first man you had ever felt safe with.

ateez taglist: @a-wandering-stay, @xlovehwa, @yeosangsbiceps, @anyamaris, @acciocriativity, @hawaiian-angel, @toolovelyforyou (let me know if you want to be added/removed)

[whorediaries-09]

remember how I'd fly to you?💋 another one bc my mind RAN with ideas coquette-y!reader gives siri flowers and he's surprised because she remembered his favorite flower and reader doing lovey-dovey little things (taking care of him when he's drunk, washing his hair softly, giving him massages, making hot cocoa for him) while he stares at her in awe.

okay i kinda like how this one turned out 🎀

lavender haze;

pairing- sirius black x reader warning(s)- mutual pinning, tooth rotting fluff, alcohol. (let me know if i should add more) a/n- i just wanna stay...

the slut club

i feel the lavender haze creepin' up on me

'sirius did you get your helmet?' your startled shout echoes from your house. it's still carries its softness, the healing aura when it falls on sirius' eardrums. he hears your muffled pacing around in the hall. he wonders what you're searching for, sandals or his helmet. he doesn't think you'd like to get your soft bunny slippers dirty.

he bumps his black boot against the gravel of the road, twisting and turning around his motorbike keys. he hears your footsteps echo in your pretty garden as you approach him. his black helmet in your hands, a stark contrast against your pretty pastel colored dress you wore.

'how could forget your helmet sirius!' you scold. but there's no grimace in your tone, or anger. it's pure and raw, honey coated words from your vocal cords. he throws you a lopsided smile. one that makes your heart flutter and do somersaults against your ribcage.

'it ruins my hair,' he says. you knit your eyebrows together, standing on your tiptoes, sliding the helmet across his head. biting your lip, you clasp it under his jaw.

'well you'll have to shave it off if you...' you advise, shaking your head at the horrible thought. his smile softens, as he throws his arm around your neck, pulling you closer. you breathe in his warm scent of cedar and mahogany. his hot breathe fans over your face before he presses a soft peck on your forehead. you close your eyes as heat rushes under your skin.

'i'll be safe from now on, sweetie,' he whispers against your hot blazing skin. your hand crawls over his leather jacket, as you pat him, slowly moving away from his hold. because you're sure that if you don't you'll combust right then and there.

'promise?' you ask. he inserts his key into his bike, turning on the engine. patting his helmet he nods,

'promise.'

the 'just for you' remains silent.

******

you sink your knees into the mud, planting another healthy batch of gloxinias, heathers. daisies and yarrows. your garden isn't very huge, but it's not too small either. it's patched with pretty flower beds and well mowed fresh grass. the abyss of the soft hues of pinks, lavenders and whites melt to form a garden so very like you.

sirius thinks it's endearing how much you take care of flowers. he likes them too, especially the daisies. he wonders how it would feel if you braided them into his hair, but he doesn't want to pick your carefully cultivated flowers.

he doesn't want the flowers on his hair, he thinks. he just wants to feel your fingers running through the locks. and the flowers seem to be an excuse to keep something from you. something like a souvenir. something to keep near him, knowing how much love and effort you put in to grow them.

he sinks his hand into the packet of groceries, pulling out a tray of strawberries.

'hi sweetie,' he says, standing by you. you jump a little, seemingly startled by his sudden appearance. he doesn't blame you. he finds you adorable when you're surprised...well no he finds you adorable all the time. so maybe he'd done it on purpose.

his heart skips a beat as you stand up, wiping your dirty, muddy hands on your apron. your hair is tousled, messy. your eyes reflect the shimmer of the sun, but nothing beats the shine of your smile.

'i brought you strawberries,' he hands you the tray of strawberries. you smile at him, and his heart melts. he's so in love with you, he thinks. it's endearing, how much he wants to kiss your lips, comb your tousled hair, paint your nails with pretty pastel colors, pick out sundresses for you.

'thank you, pretty,' you say. he throws you a lopsided smile. his mind reels with the nickname you used for him...pretty. he's putty in your hands and you don't even know it. he's devoted to you and you don't even know it.

'i'm gonna make it into a jam, would you want some?' you ask.

'i'd love some,'

he doesn't really want you, he loves you.

*****

it was slow. it progressed eventually. when the looks in a crowded room began to wander about solely for him. when you laughed at the silliest jokes by him. when you wore his black leather jacket on a cold day, just to realize you'd like to submerge in his scent forever. when you held his hand for the first time and the sparks crawled under your skin. when the gray skies and beaches only seemed appealing when they were the shade of his eyes.

it took a lot of convincing from lily for you to realize. you didn't really have a crush on sirius. no, you didn't want him.

you loved him.

you'd broken a few flowers from your garden. heathers, yarrows and daisies. you'd tied them together, making a little bouquet. though you weren't sure he'd like it, considering the bouquet looked like a mess. a beautiful mess none the less.

taking in a breath you knocked on his door. you heard shuffling around in his hallway, before the door swung upon, revealing a shirtless sirius. his chest was clad in tattoos, which rather hid under the t-shirts he wore. his gray sweatpants hung low on his narrow hips, revealing his happy trail. fuck, you thought, gulping slowly. you felt the heat crawl under your skin to your neck and ears, your eyes drifting to your shoes.

the sight haunted you, in the best way possible. and even though you could stare at him all day, you were just his friend.

a friend who was hopelessly in love with him.

'hav-have i interrupted something?' you ask, even though no other shoes were visible other than his.

'god, no sweetie, i was hot,'

you are hot, you think wordlessly.

'you can look, i promise,' he says. his voice carries a teasing tone. you're sure you feel your heart burst out from your ribcage and your legs turn shaky when you look at him, leaned against his doorframe, his hand tucked away in his pocket. his smile burns through you, as you hand him the jam and the bouquet of flowers. he's visually speechless. his eyebrows knitted into an unreadable emotion. you wonder what he thinks.

'thanks, love,' he says, nudging his finger against his scrunched up nose. love...he says. he'd never used it before...

you want nothing but to sink into his arms and kiss him.

*****

he wraps his hands around your body. he's sure he smells like whiskey, beer and things you don't like. but you're soft, and he's drunk. he needs you, he needs the one he loves close by. he needs to feel your skin upon his. he needs to submerge himself into your scent.

'pretty, you're drunk,' your house smells so homely. he wants to sink in your cave and presence for an everlasting period. he wants to coat his eardrums into your honey weaved voice forever.

'i knowww,' he slurs. he hears you locking the door. you house smells of vanilla and sugar. he wonders whether he had interrupted your baking session. he wonders whether you're angry at him for drinking. but your beautiful eyes speak nothing. he knits his eyebrows, tucking your head under his jaw. he presses your head against his chest.

'did i interrupt something?'

'no,' you chuckle. he thinks it's the most beautiful melody he's heard.

'sirius, you should take a bath...i'll draw you one yeah?'

he blinks as you separate yourself from him. you guide him to your couch, telling him to sit down and open his shoes. he unbuckles the belt of his boots, before he hears the splashing of water against ceramic.

'sweetie, will you wash my hair?' he says, when he sees you waddle back into the hall. you play with your fingers clumsily, not quite meeting his gaze.

'you're sure?' you whisper.

'yeah,' he nods. his heart somersaults when you agree. so he walks into your washroom. the bubbles in the bathtub shimmer under the moonlight that enter through the window. your bath smells of watermelons and strawberries. he strips himself off his clothes, sinking under the hot water.

'love, you can come in,' he shouts. you slowly walk into your bathroom. he's thrilled, to say the least. to be soaked in your scent. to finally feel your fingers against his scalp. his heart flutters, when you kneel down beside him, grabbing the bottle of shampoo.

the silence is comforting, soaked in an effervescent of pure bliss and innocence. neither of you speak, afraid to jinx the moment. because it feels unreal, a haze. but it's real, your eyes boring into his, your fingers rubbing into his scalp. it's real, his hot breath fanning over your face. it's real, how he feels so close yet so far away. it's real, when he finally breaks the silence.

'i love you, sweetie,'

'you're drunk,'

'in love,'

*****

the smell of hot chocolate mixes with your spritz of cherries. you feel the hot gaze of sirius burn your back through you. he thinks there's nothing not to love about you. he's not drunk from alcohol anymore, but he remembers confessing. he remembers being drunk in love.

because he is, right now. and he wants to be all the time, if it's you he loves.

and he doesn't regret it, no. the poems he'd written about you would never compare to the ethereal love he feels for you. the paints melting on canvas could never capture your beauty. they could never capture how you made him feel. they could never capture the softness of your voice. they could never capture the feeling of your hair against his fingers. they could never capture the feeling of your body pressed against his. they could never capture the random scribbles of your fingers on his back. they could never capture the beauty of your eyes. they could never capture your sunny smile. they could never capture the taste of your jams or cookies. they could never capture the taste of your lips against his.

they could never capture you.

not when your lips melted with his, when you hand him the cup of hot cocoa.

[renegades-garbage]

Admissions

Hey guys I'm back lol. Finding out about the new renegades book inspired me to write for the fandom again! I decided to write a little fic about Adrian and Nova getting back together a few months after the Supernova assuming that they broke up to deal with their mental health and such. This ended up being a lot longer than I intended and I did a shitty job proofreading but I love you all and hope you enjoy it anyway. It's also on ao3 as usual!

PS. I hate writing combat scenes so I simply didn't even though it may have been necessary sorry lol

Adrian watched as Nova examined the broken window. They were out on a call for a home invasion but considering this was the only thing amiss Adrian was beginning to wonder if this was just a prank by some neighborhood kids and not a robbery as the elderly woman inside was so convinced.

Most of Adrian’s team came back to work only a few weeks after the Supernova but Nova had, understandably, taken a bit longer. This was only her first week back on patrols after four months and Adrian would be lying if he said it wasn’t hell. He wouldn’t exactly call their breakup messy but it wasn’t exactly easy, necessary and mutual, but definitely not easy.

Nova was a very valuable asset to their team but she was also extremely strong willed and after a few months without her they all needed to remember how to work together again. That was the only reason he was finding her return difficult. It had nothing to do with the fact that she had been doing a lot of healing and had a new brightness to her skin and eyes, or the fact that she was experimenting with new hairstyles and clothes that suited her much more than what she had before. No, none of that had any impact on him. Breaking up was what was best for both of them and he knew that. He truly believed that. One hundred percent. 

“Sketch? Hello?” Ruby’s voice crackled through the communication band. He hadn’t even realized she’d been talking to him. 

“Sorry what did you say”

“I saaaaaiid” she replied in mock annoyance. “Did you guys find anything on that side of the house, because we’ve got nothing.”

“Just the broken window she was telling us about but it looks more like it got hit with a baseball or something than a home invasion.” Just as he said it Nova shone her flashlight inside.

“Adrian.” her voice shook a bit. “Look”

He peered through the broken glass and sitting on the floor was an orange haired puppet. 

Nova looked up at him concerned. In the weeks past a man impersonating the Puppeteer had been terrorizing homes with small children, and the Renegades hadn’t been able to catch him or even find any clues about his identity. He was all anyone was talking about at HQ and Adrian knew that his dad’s would have sent a more advanced patrol group if they were aware of the perpetrator, especially since Adrian hadn’t yet finished re-tattooing his sentinel abilities, but maybe this could be a good opportunity to prove themselves.

He lifted his wrist to his mouth “Red Assassin, Smokescreen can you guys go inside and check if this lady has any young grand-kids staying here or anything.”

Ruby’s voice flowed back through the band “Um sure but why? Is there something wr-... Wait, did you guys find something? Is it that puppet guy?”

“Ruby. Please just go check. We might have limited time.” 

“Yeah of course. Okay. We're going inside now.”

Nova began reaching her hand inside to grab the puppet. 

“Careful of the glass” Adrian warned though he knew she would be. Nova only nodded and offered a small mhm. 

Though the window was very low to the ground and the puppet was just inside Nova was having a hard time reaching due to the jagged glass. 

Adrian knew she wouldn't ask for help so he simply walked over and grabbed it easily.

“I could have done that.” She mumbled.

“I know”

They both looked down at the creepy thing which was almost an exact replica of Winston Pratt’s infamous puppet Hettie. A note was pinned to the front of the doll which read, It’s time to pay for your betrayal Nightmare. A shiver ran down his spine and Nova’s jaw hardened.

“We don’t have to do this, you know. We can always call for backup if this is too much.” The threat was disconcerting to say the least and even besides that, Adrian knew that Nova’s connection to The Puppeteer was complicated and this may not be the best thing for her mental recovery. 

“I'm fine Sketch.”

She didn’t exactly sound fine, and Adrian wanted to insist that they call someone else, considering Nova was much more important than his desire to prove himself, but before he got the chance they heard Oscar’s voice through his communication band.

“Two kids in the upstairs bedrooms. A boy and a girl. Going to check on them now.”

“I'm going to check the back of the house.” Nova began to walk towards the gate that led to the backyard. 

“I'll come with you, Monarch can check around the other side.” 

“No, everyone else is still inside. It's faster if you go around the front and I go around the back.”

“Nova there’s a note on this thing threatening you.” He said holding up the doll. “I'm not leaving you alone.” 

“Adrian I'm not scared of him and I can handle myself, you know that.” 

In any other situation Adrian would have insisted that they stay together, but there were kids in danger and they needed to find this guy. He didn’t want Nova to be unsafe but he was probably just being paranoid, how much of a threat could this guy be? 

—

Nova’s head was pounding. Her memories of the night were coming back to her in short bursts. The sound of maniacal laughter. A face covered in marionette makeup exactly like that of the Puppeteer. The cold press of a knife to her throat. Her hand fumbling to find bare skin. A stab in her side. Pain. Searing white-hot pain. And then nothing. That’s when she had lost consciousness. And now she was laying in a hospital bed with large bandages wrapped around her midsection. 

‘Miss Artino?” 

Nova opened her eyes and looked up at the man in the white doctor's coat standing next to her bed. An older, balding man with friendly eyes.

“How are you feeling?”

“Um…fine I guess” she replied, testing her voice, and it was true she did feel fine. She had some soreness from the wound in her side but the prodigy doctors at HQ were some of the finest and she was sure it would heal completely within a couple of days.

“Good, the wound was pretty severe but it looks like you’ll make a full recovery. Would you like me to let your friends in? They've been here all night.”

Right. Her friends. Her team. Adrian. Was he okay? 

She shook herself. She should be asking about her whole team. She shouldn’t care any more about Adrian’s safety than the rest of them. And she didn’t. She definitely didn’t.

“Miss Artino?” The doctor looked at her mildly concerned, and Nova didn’t blame him. She probably looked crazy right now.

She cleared her throat “Yeah, yes please let them in.”

The doctor offered a small friendly nod and walked over to the door, exiting the room and letting her team file in. Ruby being the first to burst through the door, followed by Oscar, Danna, and Adrian. He- They all looked tired, drawing some minor scrapes and bruises but they were otherwise unharmed. 

“Oh my stars I am so glad you're okay,” Ruby rushed over to Nova’s bed offering an enthusiastic yet gentle hug, which Nova did her best to return. “You were covered in blood and it looked awful. I mean the doctors told us it wasn’t as bad as it looked but it was terrifying and that guy was so creepy.” Ruby shuttered.

“Oh come on we all knew she would be fine. Nova is the toughest of us all.” Oscar walked over to give her a gentle nudge on the shoulder. “You did have us scared for a second there Artino, but I knew you’d pull through.”

She could tell that Oscar was trying to sound braver than he actually felt, as he so often did. It warmed Nova’s heart a bit to see that her team truly cared, even if they couldn't all fully admit it.

“Well I'm glad you had faith in me.” she said a bit weakly. She was still tired from the battle and her injury. “What happened to the Puppeteer impersonator after I passed out?’

The answer came from Danna “You ended up putting him to sleep right as he got you. We have him in custody.” 

Nova nodded. This was a relief to her. She didn’t want that guy out there impersonating Winston, especially if it meant hurting kids. That, and she didn’t almost die for nothing. 

“I'm really glad you're okay Nova.” Danna sounded sincere when she said these words. Nova didn’t think Danna would want her to die, no matter how rocky their relationship, but the way she said it made it seem like more than that. Like maybe in these past few months she had found friendship and maybe even forgiveness for Nova. 

“Thank you.” Nova offered the brightest smile she could muster up, but it wasn’t great. 

She turned her eyes to Adrian who hadn’t said a single word since they had walked in. He looked like he’d been crying. Maybe that meant he still had feelings for her? No, he was just concerned, as he would be for any of his teammates. She wasn’t special, well, not anymore. And she shouldn’t hope to be anyway. They couldn’t be together. And besides she was over him. Totally. One hundred percent. They just stared at each other. No words came to her, and no words came to him either apparently.

“Weeeeeelll,” Oscar’s voice cut through the tension. “Guess it’s time to get home, maybe grab some food. Long night and all.” He said, gently grabbing his girlfriend's arm and feigning a yawn. Nova just shook her head at him. 

Danna began walking towards the door as well. “Yeah I’m gonna second that.” 

They each said a rushed goodbye, and Nova thanked them for sticking around before they exited the room.  

She looked back at Adrian. She had the striking thought that he looked handsome, even with obvious red eyes from tears, and being awake for many hours, he still looked handsome. She knew she shouldn’t be thinking about that, this wasn’t the time nor the place, and they had been broken up for months. But still, she thought it.

When he finally spoke his words were heavy. “I thought I lost you.” 

Stupidly, Nova relished in the words he chose. Not, ‘I thought you died’ or ‘I didn’t know if you’d be okay’. He didn’t want to lose her and that meant something. To both of them, she hoped. “Nova this is what? The third time you’ve almost died? You have to be more careful.”

This was slightly offensive to Nova considering his track record. “You're the one who’s always saying this job is dangerous, and you're almost more reckless than me.” 

“I know. I know okay.” he sighed. “But you should've let me come with you as back up. Someone else could have checked the rest of the house.”

“Well it’s over now and I’m fine. I survived.”

“No Nova, it's not over now.” He was starting to become angry, well not angry but more…flustered? Nova didn’t understand why he was acting like this. He knew better than anybody about risking his life. “This is our job. This right here.” He made a general gesture to the space around them. Or maybe between them? She couldn’t quite tell. “This is our life.”

“Adrian. I’m not sure I understand what you’re saying.” And the truth was she didn’t. Why was he getting so upset?

“Nova I can’t do this okay.” He was almost struggling to get the words out now. “I can’t go into work everyday and watch the person that I love almost die.”

Nova was taken aback. There it was. Plain and simple. His admission that he still loved her. And she wanted to believe him, but he knew they couldn’t be together. This was sleep deprivation and emotion talking. He couldn’t possibly know what he’s saying. 

“Adrian, maybe you should get some sleep, and we can talk about this tomorrow.” It hurt Nova to say these words but she knew she had to. Out of respect for him. 

“No, Nova this past week has been horrible. Ever since the Supernova things have been hard, but having you here, around the team, with me, but not with me. It’s been hell. I know exactly what I’m saying. I love you, Nova Artino.” Nova’s jaw was almost on the floor at this point and she saw the look in his eye as he misread whatever he was seeing on her face. 

He started towards the door. “Um you know what, maybe I should get some rest, and we can just put this behin-”

“Adrian” 

“No, I'm really sorry. You're trying to heal and I’m just-”

“Adrian” She said again, more forcefully this time, stopping him in his tracks. She could practically hear Adrians heart racing, alongside her own. 

“Come here.” Adrian started towards the bed slowly and as soon as he was close enough Novas grabbed the front of his shirt and pulled his lips to her own. Adrian made a small noise of surprise but didn’t pull away. He  sat down on the edge of the bed, cupping her face in his hands as the kiss became more intense. 

Nova pulled away gently pressing their foreheads together.

“I love you too Adrian Everheart.” 

He smiled that beautiful smile of his and pressed one final kiss to her lips.

“Do you mind if I stay here tonight? It's pretty late and I told my dads I would stay in one of the rooms we rent out.”

“I would love for you to stay with me.”

Adrian gently maneuvered himself and the blankets so that they could both lay down without hurting her. They laid together in comfortable silence for a few moments, a feeling Nova had missed so much these past months, until Adrian whispered into the darkness. 

“So does this mean we’re back together?”

Nova just laughed and replied “I hope so.”

[scmoobly]

Why I don't think Alexis is a villain.

not in the prime universe anyway. (Morally grey? Sure)

Warnings: (Mild language)

This post contains an analysis of "Getting Closer to your vampire Mate."

---

"The kind of friends that don't do much talkin' when they're together. If you catch my drift. I didn't want anything more than that out of her, and she kept saying she felt the same way."

▪︎OKAY, SO- right off the bat we understand that they were fuck-buddies. Consenting on both sides and a mutual agreement for it to stay that way. This is also while he was still human so it's safe to assume that he trusted her enough to spend time with her in that way.

-

"Anyway, I started getting the hint that she was expecting more out of all that than we'd agreed on. Certainly, more than I felt. So I told her as much. That it had been fun and all that happy crap, but that I wasn't wanting anything more with her. And if we were wanting different things out of it, it'd be best if we just closed up shop."

▪︎Noticed that his partner (in whatever sense of the word) wishes to be more than what they are and reiterates how he didn't feel the same way and told her that if expectations were being held then he thought it better to part ways. (Which is a good thing in my opinion. You'd wanna air these things out early so it doesn't get messy)

-

"The writing was on the wall. She was catching feelings. I wasn't. And I said we just needed to call it. Needless to say, she wasn't too happy about that but she agreed. I was driving us back from the dinner where we had it out."

▪︎Sam is extremely direct in the way he dealt with the situation and while Alexis probably felt hurt over it (Which she had a right to feel) she agreed to it. I'm stressing this to show that there was no initial aggression but an understanding of what was best for both of them. There was a reluctant compliance by Alexis and if that was out of respect for Sam or to protect her pride, we don't know. (Also Sam, sweetie. Who invites someone to dinner to reject them? I get you'd probably not wanna do that on the phone or by text but if someone asked me to go out to have dinner with them I wouldn't be expecting them to tell me to get gone. :")

-

"I was in a bad way. There was blood everywhere. Alexis was screaming, I could- I could barely hear her. Piece of the door was in me. Right here. It was real bad."

▪︎This was something I failed to notice the first few times I listened to the audio. Alexis was clearly panicking and worried for Sam. Sam brushes this off by saying he couldn't hear her but in my opinion, this is where the fact that Alexis was genuinely upset got lost on us as the listeners because we are being shown Sam's point of view. I'm not saying Sam is the bad guy here for overlooking Alexis's concern because as he said a piece of the door was in him so I'd imagine it'd be pretty hard to focus on somebody else's distress when you're bleeding out.

-

"We were out on some backroad. No one was gonna be able to get there on time. Alexis didn't know any magic that could've helped. But I was a healer. Damn good one. One of the best. I knew I could heal myself."

▪︎Here we can gather that there was no way to receive outside help and another important detail is that Alexis didn't know healing magic. So that begs the question that if she did know, would that have affected the situation differently? Also establishing that Sam was a good healer.

-

"I knew I could do it. And I told Alexis I could do it. Then she starts talking about turning me. And I told her no. And even if I can't. I don't want that. I don't wanna live like that."

▪︎As a vampire herself she knows that Sam's only guaranteed safety net for survival is to turn him. She was probably not thinking with the clearest headspace at that moment. She can smell and see the spilt blood and the damage done so she suggests the surefire way which Sam promptly rejects. He then says that he'd rather die a human than live as a vampire and that was when Alexis seems to have lost her edge. We know well that Alexis has feelings for Sam at this point. Whether they were feelings of love or just liking him isn't clear but if you've been sleeping with someone for a while and you want to take the relationship further then it probably wasn't some simple, impulsive decision she made overnight.

_

"I hated her for that. I still do. And I don't plan to stop anytime soon. She never even apologized."

▪︎obviously at first glance people are going to look at this as an extremely sadistic act. But what if her thought process was different? What if she didn't apologize because she didn't feel sorry? Not in a villainous way. She's not sorry because in her head she didn't let him die. She did what she could to save his life (while he was clearly telling her not to do it yes- but can you honestly tell me that if it was you in this situation you wouldn't have done everything you could to try to save someone you love? That it wouldn't hurt to know that you were so insignificant to them that you weren't worth living for in their eyes.)

-

"I don't know for sure what made her do it. If it really was her sick idea of mercy or if she saw it as some fucked up opportunity to keep me at her side forever."

▪︎I think this statement here is to make a point that this is all from Sam's perspective and Alexis's motive when it came to his turning weren't necessarily evil which most people consider it to be.

---

She hasn't even shown up in the canon universe yet, so it's a little surprising the amount of hate she gets. I even saw someone outright call her an abuser and while she betrayed Sam and turned him against his will, it's not made clear yet that she did it because she wanted to hurt him. Alexis does her part to actively avoid Sam and doesn't gloat in his face about how the situation played out. Maybe she doesn't feel sorry or guilty about it but again reaches an understanding that she shouldn't hope for a relationship with Sam in the future and respects that. In light of that statement, let's back track to something Sam has said.

8:49 Cuddles and confessions with your vampire mate; "I also know that the way we throw ourselves at the world doesn't have to reflect the way we tackle everything in life. People aren't simple. We all exist in shades.."

This post wasn't meant to justify her actions but rather to go for a deep dive into how Alexis is as a character.

I still cry listening to Sam explain his turning. Yes it was cruel and Alexis was in the wrong for doing things the way she did but is there space to assume that her intentions weren't evil? Yes, absolutely.

Feel free to correct me if I get anything wrong, I'm very much open to conversation.

[redwinewhiteroses]

Hi, hope you're fine. I'm resending since i forgot to put my sun sign, which is taurus. I'm Nicole, 22

I would like to ask about my first time in bed with my future spouse. If you don't do +18 readings, please change for "first kiss"

Thanks in advance 😊

So the first sexual encounter with your future spouse is going to be a very deeply profound experience. It's like nothing you've experienced before, sensations you've never felt before and something that will deepen the bond of your relationship. This is going to be a perfect union of mind, body and spirit. It's not just going to be physical but highly emotional as well. It's definitely going to be a very raw and carnal love and you two fit perfectly together. There's heavy counterpart energy here so this experience will be extremely healing for both of you. You will have solid trust in each other and will feel incredibly safe and comfortable in this experience. I see that there will be a lot of tears(tears from pleasure or emotional) and an outpour of emotions. One of you or both of you will cry during and after this sexual encounter maybe because it stirs up all your emotions and this rush of passion and excitement will completely wreck you in a good way. Again if there's any trauma or any insecurities around sexuality that you or your partner has faced, I see this union will bring so much healing and will be the stepping stone to feeling absolutely secure in your sexuality. You two just belong with each other and this experience will just solidify your relationship and just really enhance the intensity of your connection.

So there will be a lot of mutual appreciation of your bodies. You'll just be very hands on. You will admire the curves, the flesh, the sensations and there's a lot of discovery. Feeling each others' bodies and just being tightly close to each other.

Leading upto the actual act, there's going to be a lot of dedicated foreplay for a long time. It's so dedicated and so earnest. Not rushed in any way. They could be quited skilled with their hands. They will take a lot of time getting to know every nook and corner of your body and will absolutely melt you with their skills. You will be very turned on after this. They are very dedicated and determined to make you feel good. They will be very gentle when they touch you.

Then the actual act will feel so intense. You will climax so damn fast😭 You will definitely experience a big O. Pleasure will build up naturally and it will be a wild ride. There will be a lot of fluids, can be a messy experience. It will feel like a life changing experience and will bring a lot of good luck, conceiving a child is also possible. You will be spent after this. You will feel like you can't take anymore or it will be too much pleasure. Can be overstimulated 🥲

Aftercare will be sooo good. Your partner will literally burden themselves to care of you. No matter how tired they are, they will still take really good care of you. They will literally carry you to the bathroom to clean yourself. Will be very responsible and reliable and make sure you are comfortable. Both of you will feel quite exhausted ngl.

The whole experience leading up to the act and everything in between will be very thrilling and exciting. There will be oozing passion and both partners will want it more than the other. Both partners will pursue each other earnestly and excitedly. There will be intense charisma and passion in bed. Very impulsive and proactive and each other will find the other very attractive and sexually appealing. Might admire the partner's sexual prowess. There will be a drive, a deep desire to make this experience intense and a memorable one.

That's all for your reading🥰

Sending you love, light, joy and peace!🩷

[thecarnivorousmuffinmeta]

Do you think Zuko and Katara would work as a couple?

The last time I spoke about Zutara in relation to fandoms at large.

It'd have to be AU.

It's not impossible, I've seen great fics, and the characters do have traits they admire in one another and a lot of screentime alone in canon.

However, given canon, I'm not shocked it didn't work out for a number of reasons.

Canon

In season 1, Zuko's very clearly an antagonist and Katara meets him when he terrorizes her defenseless village in search of the Avatar who is in fact a child himself. He then hounds them across the globe, representing the Evil Empire, trying to snuff out the one last hope for the world for reasons Katara simply cannot understand. Add onto this that he kidnaps her one time, fights her in the North Pole where he kidnaps Aang when he's helpless and takes him into the tundra (where Aang may uh die), and they're not getting off on a good foot.

Katara may have been into Jet, resident bad boy, but she liked him when he was a bad boy for her cause and giving the Fire Nation what for. She was horrified when it turned out he was a tad bit unhinged and planning to massacre civilians.

On Zuko's end, Katara and Sokka are the annoying water tribe peasants who hang around the Avatar. They're useful in that the Avatar clearly cares about them and they're weaker benders/non-benders (making them easier to kidnap and things) but he has his Avatar blinders on so doesn't really care much beyond that.

Season 2, the Gaang is confused when it seems they have a new and more terrifying hunter (Azula) and Zuko and his uncle seem to uh not be on her side maybe. However, Zuko's still fighting Aang at this point which means a big old no from Katara. We then get to Ba Sing Se, when both are kidnapped, and here we have our shining moment. Katara offers to heal Zuko's scar, they talk about their past and Zuko about how he's given up and is redeemed and a fugitive of the Fire Nation, and Katara wants to believe in him.

However, he immediately stabs her in the back, helping his sister to nearly kill Aang, betraying his uncle in front of them, all for the chance to go home and be redeemed.

After that, Katara canonically is very clearly done with this man. She vaguely tolerates him when Aang takes him on as a teacher but very clearly doesn't trust him and only slightly thaws after their murder adventure together.

Zuko, for his own part, seems to feel awkward around Katara and then terrified after the murder adventure as uh... he knows he did bad and there isn't an easy way to make them believe he's super good for real this time. Last time didn't count, guys. He's mostly trying to get in her good books and not in a way that will lead to a realtionship.

(And add onto that that Zuko has his thing with Mai, Mai ends up imprisoned because of him, and that Katara has her thing with Aang and it gets very messy).

But it Could Happen

If you diverge early, or have a very AU world, then it might work out. Granted, part of Zuko's character is focusing on restoring his honor, which is mutually exclusive to all of Katara's ideals. It would feel--weird and cheap if Zuko defected early and I think it was a key part of his character that he did get a chance to get his honor restored and realized that it wasn't what he wanted and his family is terrible.

Similarly, if Katara's more understanding of Zuko's position... Well, that's not who she is as a character and from her perspective what's there to be understanding of. Zuko is literally trying to murder the Avatar or else imprison him for life and doom the world: where is the good in that?

So, I can't tell you where, when, and how would be a good point of divergence. However, I don't think as personalities they're unshippable, I think there is a lot there, it's just not inclined to happen given who they are and where they come from.

[gaepublishinghouse]

Apotheosis [ Wanderer x GN!Reader]

╭ ─┉─!! • !!─┉─ ╮

Tags : implied nsfw, crying (on Wanderer's part), angst with a bit of comfort, friends with benefits to maybe lovers

╰ ─┉─¡! • !¡─┉─ ╯

–

It was by virtue of the day’s bitterness that the two of you found yourselves in this position. Call it blowing off steam or a mutual yearning for the comfort of touch, though the Wanderer would never claim the latter, but you both needed it and you both needed it badly. 

You and your travel companion stifled gasps and moans behind the thin curtain of the tent, still instinctively cautious with each other and the outside looking in despite the nearest civilization being a day’s travel away. His hands were planted on either side of your head, eyes usually dull with boredom or burning with hate now glowing faintly in the shroud of your shelter as his hips rocked in tandem with yours as if the friction and heat between you would burn away the emptiness, the cursed gnawing emptiness that threatened to creep back in. It helped, as much as he liked to think he was a god above the needs and pleasures that were so painfully human.

Your fingers brushed against his cheeks, cold like porcelain but soft and rapidly warming under your touch. His lips looked soft and painted with the pink of a cherry blossom, even when it was pressed in a thin line of irritation, and especially now parted with laboured breaths. He couldn’t answer why he made those noises, why he felt like he needed to breathe when you were in his arms. Everything about how he felt about you was an enigma that he picked at like a healing wound, splitting open and wondering at the ichor that bled forth. The Wanderer always loved how blood looked as much as he detested how it reminded him of mortality.

You can tell he was lost in his thoughts again, stuck in the warring memories of a version of himself that for all intents and purposes never existed. You slid a hand up to his hair and pulled him down to your level. He would have chewed you out for daring to handle him like that if it was not for how he was suddenly much more focused on how your lips felt against his, how they seemed to slot together in a way that was hot and messy and entirely too raw but something he felt like made his hollow chest feel a little less empty. His eyes closed and he pressed closer, aching for more, more warmth, more of you.

Your cheeks felt wet and it took a long moment to realize that they weren’t your tears.

—

Wanderer doesn’t mention it as the two of you get cleaned up at your respective corners of the tent, backs to each other as you both dressed back into your rumpled clothing. In the heat of the moment, it looked like your piles had gotten mixed up and his Vision laid pleasantly cool against your palm. You walked over to him as he absently tied the sashes of his robes and as he saw the Vision in your hand, his eyes went wide and he clasped his hand around it, and in the process around yours. His eyes don’t leave your hands and after a moment of lingering, he took it from your grip and clasped it back to his chest. The tension in his shoulders drained ever so slightly, though he still kept a hand over the shimmering Vision, futile in his attempt to keep the warmth of your hold from fading in the cold night. It was no match for how cold he seemed to treat you after all that. It left a bitter taste in your mouth, and it was hard to tell if it was you or the remnants of the astringent tea you tasted on his lips.

“I’m sorry.” You ended up saying, unable to think of anything else. “I shouldn’t have kissed you like that. I know that wasn’t part of our… deal.”

Wanderer snorted and crossed his arms, refusing to meet your eyes. He was always easier to read than he would like to admit, and you could tell that somehow hurt him. “The audacity to say such a thing. To think I considered you less foolish than the common herd.”

“Kuni–”

“Forget it,” he snapped, eyes flashing in the dark for a completely different reason. “We both want to. You did something stupid and it’s obvious you regret it, so we can both pretend it never happened.”

“But I meant it.” You argue, “I wanted to, for a long time now. I just… I didn’t mean to hurt you because of it.”

His hand came up unconsciously, fingers brushing over where his face was wiped raw to get rid of those tears as soon as he was aware of them. Wanderer sneered and tightened his hand in a fist, anger in his eyes. “I don’t need your pity. That didn’t mean anything, and it doesn’t mean you get to treat me like I’m weak.”

You took his hands and for a moment, the tension under your touch made you think he would yank himself away once more, but an earnest look from you had him second-guessing. He looked away once more, his expression hard. 

You recall a story shared between sips of bitter ice wine and the warmth of a campfire once upon a quiet night. Something about it made Wanderer looser with his words, and you learn of his past life. How he was born with the image of God and as he wept like any other babe, he was deemed too weak to house the glory of Eternity. How he shed tears of anger and betrayal as his friend broke his promise under no fault of his own, but of the cruelty of mortality and the fragility of life.

"It didn't bring him back." Wanderer murmured past the lip of the bottle, staring impassively into the fire. "Of course it didn't. All that crying has brought me nothing but broken promises and pain on my side alone."

In the present, he had that same rueful expression pointed anywhere but you. And in that moment, you understood why you saw that inkling of fear. That resigned pain.

You shifted your grip on his hands and gently intertwined your fingers, tightening carefully but firmly. Finally his gaze snapped to you.

"I'm not going anywhere anytime soon, I promise." you murmured, feeling his fingers twitch as they warm under your heat. "Not until you want to get rid of me. And even then, I might fight back a little."

His throat bobbed as he swallowed and he grit his teeth, tears spilling down pale cheeks. "You… promise. You know what that means. If you break it, I'll… I'll kill you. I'll rip you to pieces and the world will forget that anyone with your name ever existed. You hear me?"

As you held him close, his grip tightened painfully, yet you couldn't bring yourself to do anything but squeeze him back just as hard. The promises made that night were kept safely tucked in the quiet twilight and in the morning, Wanderer jeered at you for sleeping in, but his grin was a little softer in his eyes.

[azems-familiar]

13, 14, 32 for the asks thing?

13. What is their go-to for making a partner feel loved?

for Aymeric, it's listening to him as he talks about whatever political mess he dealt with today while she takes care of what menial tasks she can so that he can get some rest. (he does the same for her, if she's been away long.) she writes him about the things she doesn't want the Alliance leadership to know, instead of just keeping it from him entirely, and does her best to stay in contact even when she can't come home so he knows she's safe. it's in the way she uses healing magic on him even when part of her is still afraid of it, because she wants him to know how much she cares. a lot of little things, with them.

with Hyth, her go-to for him is treating him like an equal. which is a little awkward now as Lelesu because he's much stronger than she is - but for Seleukos it was important, and that's sort of carried over. it's about trusting him to watch her back and go into danger with her. especially after the mess on Ultima Thule, lmao

14. What makes them feel loved? Would they build up the courage to ask for it?

tbh any sign of someone having paid attention to the person behind the WoL is a big thing - knowing how she takes her drinks, knowing how she likes her food, speaking up about these things. dragging her along on mischief even when she protests. soft intimacy like doing her hair, bathing/showering with her, etc. accommodations for her height being something she doesn't have to specifically ask for but that her partner does automatically is another really big one.

she's not necessarily good at asking for any of these, but she has talked to Aymeric about how they make her feel in the aftermath, at least. Hyth knew most of it already because of similarities with Seleukos, but the latter one he had to discover for himself, ofc, and the duty mask thing is far more pronounced here since she wasn't on the Convocation yet in ancient times. Aymeric gives him a little advice.

32. How do their friends react to finding out they’re a couple? Do they have lots of mutual friends? Did their friends know, perhaps before they themselves did?

it was the worst kept secret in Ishgard that Aymeric de Borel was in love with one of the Warriors of Light. to the point that prior to his death, Haurchefant was flirting with Aymeric in preparation for Lelesu figuring it out, so that they could be a polycule. Lelesu, naturally, was oblivious. she's not particularly good at this when it comes to her. however the entire Fortemps family knew, as did all three of the Scions there at the time (Tataru, Alphinaud, and Corrain) and it definitely was a brief source of awkwardness when everything got so messy. despite that Aymeric was a massive part of Lelesu's learning to move forward and work through her grief and he's a very grounding influence on her, so basically everyone who knew them was definitely relieved when that relationship began blooming again.

they got together properly in secret, just before Lelesu went to Doma. they planned to keep it a secret from some time, for political concerns, but Corrain was very much aware, so when Aymeric showed up on the front to help take back Ala Mhigo Corrain made an executive decision to blab very loudly about it in front of a bunch of Ishgardian soldiers. and there was sure no putting that cat back in the bag. it was definitely not a surprise to anyone who knew them both personally though; there's a reason Estinien intervenes when she collapses while fighting Elidizenos.

not everyone in Ishgard was happy about it considering Aymeric's a bastard and Lelesu is an outsider, but neither of them consider any of those people friends, so...

(i'll talk about Seleukos and Hyth in a different ask, since i got asked this twice!)

[houseofhurricane]

Hello! I am curious (and a little messy lmao) why did you start liking Neris?

P.S i love both characters so much 🥹

I love this question and I have to say, I'm not sure why it's messy? I still love all the other ships I love (including Nessian).

But on to the Neris of it all.

First of all, lately I've been loving messy ACOTAR ships. I've spent a lot of time in this fandom carefully setting up happy endings and making sure I write pairings that work well together, and honestly it's fun to write a pairing that's equally likely to end up somewhere toxic as somewhere mutually edifying. See also: my love of Azris. It's not that I'm not a fan of happy endings or fluff or cinnamon rolls, but I love when the ACOTAR world is dangerous and complicated and that's what's been intriguing me most as a writer in the fandom lately.

As for Nesta and Eris, specifically, there are a few things.

One is that I think this pairing is actually pretty plausible. If Nesta had healed at a slightly different rate, I could see her being very over the Night Court and/or Cassian by the time she danced with Eris. Especially because she had mostly healed, she just hadn't really claimed her power.

I think there's a way in which Nesta might always feel as if she needs to change for Cassian, whereas I think that Eris would revel in the ways she can be cruel and cutting. He wouldn't call her Lady Death as a joke. He would use that title with reverence.

Mostly, though, I love this pairing because of the way these two can be mean together, and the way that might be a form of tenderness between them. Nesta and Eris are the monsters in their respective stories in a lot of ways, but when they're together, they don't have to hide and they don't have to be afraid.

Nesta and Eris can see each other as they were meant to be seen: dangerous, and beautiful, and glorious.

Which brings me to my final point: is there a pairing that's hotter than Neris?

Think about these two politicking and catching each other's eyes across the room. Or trapped in an endless council meeting with their feet and hands occupied under the table. Or setting up endless schemes and games and just waiting for the other one to figure out what they've set in motion. The way their sneers might turn into smiles for just a moment, when they're looking at each other.

You know what they're doing right after those meetings are over, and it's going to be scorching.

I'm not saying anyone has to be team Neris. All I'm wondering is, how did it take me this long to get obsessed?

[averysexyleon]

Twenty Four

RE8 | Wintersberg | Romance, Slow Burn | Action, Sci-Fi

Sequel of Winters and the Beast, a Resident Evil: Village Story

Table Of Contents

Ethan didn’t move much from the bed the next day, and the others stayed true to their word and kept him company.  Rose and Karl made him a very messy breakfast-in-bed, with more than a few fingerprints in the pancakes, and coffee with at least six ounces of sugar in it.  Rose seemed to understand her father’s mood, laying her little head on his chest and patting him reassuringly.  But soon she was too restless for the room, so Karl suggested she accompany him with rebuilding a carburetor.  She was ecstatic at this suggestion, for some reason.    

Conversation flowed casually between the women, and he was content to listen even if he didn’t understand most of their language.  Some big sewing project was happening between them, and he didn’t understand anything about that either.  Ethan felt a heavy weight on his chest; closing his eyes meant he saw the night’s events over and over.  He pondered as the comforting sound of the language cushioned him from darker emotions, allowing him to think. 

Was it his fault?  Should they not have taunted Miranda?  He didn’t blame Karl now, for the man’s earlier hesitancy toward her.  The fear stricken look he’d given when she approached him during Eva’s ceremony.  But a tiny voice whispered in Ethan’s head that it was better this way….Mia was better off not existing, than existing in a prison.  

Hadn’t she always, though?  A self-imposed prison, but a prison nonetheless.  

He could not deny that often, Mia seemed unhappy.  As if she were playing domestic, not actually being domestic.  She was jealous when he trained with Chris, annoyed when he brought up time at the shooting range, or his self defense classes.  Mia may have never wanted the life that they had together, and may not have known how to break that to him, he realized.  She'd probably even tried, and he'd argued over her. 

Considering all of this brought up a well of emotion he could not confront.  Ethan had finally understood months ago, when he tossed away their wedding rings, that the betrayal was too much, her lies were too much.  He had intended to move forward as a single father.  He had still envisioned them speaking, though.  Raising Rose as co-parents.  Making mutual decisions for her care.  Maybe one day, years from now when the hurt went away....talking it over.  Seeing how love had made them blind to their issues.  Making peace. 

Now he saw the futility, even the wild ridiculousness of that idea.  The world he’d existed in before seemed like the dream-not this world.  This world made sense with all its strangeness and ever-present mystery, while the other world was no more real than the shows that the girls were eager to show Donna.  Some fantasy, where two normal humans did normal human things like raising a daughter after divorce.  He had traded one fantasy for another, had moved from one denial of truth to another.  

When it came time to prepare food, he finally had time alone to shower and get dressed while the others contemplated a feast.  Food healed–Maricara was adamant, and Ethan didn’t dare argue. Donna promised to return after she too got dressed and ready for the day, and Ethan plodded rather pathetically into the large bathroom.  

Water didn’t warm him, being clean didn’t perk him up.  Fresh clothes meant nothing.  Brushing his teeth was a chore.  Ethan did a double-take in the mirror; had his reflection….moved?  Had it been looking at him?  Were his eyes black again?  With a shaky hand, he put the toothbrush back in its place and stared at the mirror.  Normal.  Nothing off.  Maybe he’d imagined it. 

Just to be sure, Ethan blinked to a place he no longer had reason to linger in–the liminal space, the thin veil between the Mold’s catalogued world, and the real world.  The place where he’d first met Eva, and likely the place he visited in his dreams.  

The room around him was glitchy, full of bloom, saturated in unnatural golden light.  Everything blurred. But there in the mirror he stood, looking….different.  Hollow.  Dead?  The reflection did move, tilting its head at him.  What was he seeing?  

He heard his own voice, laced with another.  A feminine voice.  It had to be Miranda.  

There’s another way.  

“What?”  Had anyone walked in and witnessed him talking to himself, he would have looked insane. 

Don’t resignate yourself to feeling this pain.  

“I don’t have a choice,” he grumbled, unsettled by the unmoving, blank stare of the reflection.  Was this his inner voice?  Was it Miranda’s influence?  Who was looking back at him?  It was him, without a doubt.  

Pain is weakness.  Do not give in.  You are more than human. 

He closed his eyes abruptly, hearing the threads of many voices echoing the words, as if in agreement.  Ethan splashed water from the sink onto his face and looked again; he was back in reality, back to seeing a shocked and pale version of his face.  Trembling lips, bloodshot eyes, tear-stained cheeks, hair that hadn’t been styled properly in days.  But at least he didn’t look…well….evil.  

Ethan knew what Eva would say–it was a defense mechanism of the Mold, learning human patterns of thinking, it was Miranda, overriding the natural order of things….it was something he could ignore, and he was the noble human she always scolded him about.  But it seemed to him like a warning, a conviction to continue trying to…what was he trying to do?  Grieve?  He had to change.  He had to do something that the Ethan in the mirror wouldn't do. 

So he returned to the bed, shivering under the blankets, staring at the wall, wondering what it was to be not-stubborn.  Not Ethan. 

Donna returned with the opportunity.  Her hair was in a long braid still, but it was brushed, and her face was fresh.  She wore to no one’s surprise, a black dress, and as she prepared to take her seat by the foot of the bed, Ethan spoke.  

“Donna.” 

Her wide brown eyes caught his; she always looked so easily startled.  When her hand moved toward her brow, to cover it, he held out a hand and gestured.  “Sit with me?”

A rosy blush crept across her cheeks, and she tried to stutter a reply, but he coaxed, “No funny stuff, I promise.”  When she hesitantly moved toward him, he explained, “I figure we both could use a hug right now.” 

So she settled next to him on the bed, first stiff and terrified; he could hear her heartbeat thrumming like a mouse’s.  How could such a delicate person be so capable of creating such horrors? All thanks to Miranda, and what she forced on her subjects.  The lords may have had it better than the villagers, but he was learning only minimally so. 

Donna was shorter than he, and fit into the crook of his arm easily.  Ethan hugged her with hesitation, gentleness (the opposite of the way he and Karl embraced) and she soon relaxed, burying her face into his chest and laying one slender arm across his torso.  

Everything was quiet for a few minutes.  Then she tried, with a voice full of fear, “I’m sorry about your wife.” 

“Wasn’t the first time,” he exhaled, staring at the ceiling.  “Hopefully it’s the last.” 

“I understand.  Death should never be a cycle.  It should be finite.” 

He felt a pang of empathy, hugged her more tightly.  

“I guess you��ve dealt with it a lot,” he said, feeling stupid at the obviousness of this sentence.  But she seemed to appreciate the simple exchange.

“Far too much.  I feel as if I know more of death than life.” 

“...How do you feel about living?  Do you want to be back?”  He was hovering away from the eventual conversation, the one they’d have to have about her possibility of dying.  Well, according to Godric, all they had to do to prevent that was revive Moreau, which seemed backward if Ethan was being generous.  But having never embraced death, or even accepted it, he wanted to hear her thoughts. 

“I fear it beyond reason, and desire it, terribly, so much that it hurts.”  She had a way with words.  Maybe it was all the poems that she liked.  “Like Heisenberg, with love.”  

He chuckled.  In a sardonic tone, with raised eyebrows, he asked, “You really think Karl desires love?”

“I have known him for a long time,” she reminded Ethan.  “He has always been clumsy, too loud, too angry.  One kind word and he would light up like the sun.  One hurtful word and he was shut down, inconsolable.  One of the village elder men called him a terrible name once, because Karl did not like trapping animals for fur.  He said fur was meant for them, not for us.  After the elder ridiculed him, Karl disappeared for a month, no one saw him.  The elder’s metal traps disappeared from the forests, and every new one he would buy, ended up a warped piece of metal overnight.  He could not even sell the scrap, no one wanted it.”  Both Ethan and Donna were chuckling at this.  “He gave up, and never had a clue the effect of his words.  But yes,” she sighed.  “I do think he wants love.”  

“And you want life,” Ethan nodded.  “I can see how both of those are scary.  Never saw it that way before…but I sure can now.” 

“What about you, Ethan?  What is it you want, and fear?”

“You’re not gonna hold me hostage in your basement again if I tell you, are you?”

She actually giggled at this, and he continued, “I don’t know if it’s a want, but…I think I need, to learn when to…to let go, maybe.  How to let go.”  

More silence.  

“I would have never ended up in Dulvey if I’d just…forwarded Mia’s message to authorities.  Let them handle it.  But I took it so personally that she would just disappear, I wanted to hear it from her.  It’s stupid.  I don’t regret trying to help her, or Zoe, once I was there, but…I just…dig in and won’t let go, of anything.  Mia wanted to break up after Dulvey.  I argued against it.  She wasn’t sure about having a baby, when she found out she was pregnant.  I argued about that, too.”

“I can see why Karl likes you,” Donna murmured with the hint of a smile in her voice.  “You’re stubborn.”  

“I can’t let go,” he repeated.  “When I love something, I just…can’t lose it.  How did you manage, how did you go on, after losing your family?” 

“I didn’t, when Miranda ruled the village,” she admitted quietly.  “She kept us all in a state of…worry, fear, of losing her instead.  I could not process my loss, I was stuck in a horrible nightmare, which I put others through as well.  But now?  Heisenberg says we all have an animal inside. It is as you said, “letting go.” In my grief, the animal has awoken.  I have felt very much like an animal lately… Heisenberg also says it will pass, I will come back as a whole person.  What do you think?”

“I think I’ve ignored the nightmare, to get through it, and…I don’t really know how to be an animal.  To let go.”  

“Crying a lot helps,” she said cheerfully, and they both laughed.  

Eva entered the room, a bright smile on her face as she heard the laughter, and Ethan saw the cause of her dancing footsteps when he glanced in her hands. 

“Someone is thinking of you, Ethan,” she said in a singsong voice, and he stared at the patera.  It was full of wine. 

“Is that…did you…?”

“It was like this on the nightstand,” she said, her eyebrows lifting impossibly high.  She giggled, and held out the bowl with an expectant gaze.  Ethan sat up uncertainly and peered into the dish.  Dark purplish-hued liquid, thick.  It smelled like berries, burned wood, cold earth.  Donna shrank away from it.  

“Would you uh, wanna….?”  He felt as though they were closer now, close enough to invite to whatever the hell this was, but Donna was still wide-eyed, fearful.  

“You go ahead,” Donna nodded, slinking away from the bed and moving back to her chair.  “I think I will spend some time contemplating my animal, and letting go.” 

Ethan met her eyes and this time she looked slightly braver, held his gaze for slightly longer, before smiling and looking down.  Eva was nearly buzzing, bouncing on her toes as she awaited to partake in the libation.  Ethan had a pretty good idea of what, or who, drinking it would lead to.  

“Cheers,” he sighed, holding the bowl.  

[thelightningthatjumpsbetween]

Twenty Four

RE8 | Wintersberg | Romance, Slow Burn | Action, Sci-Fi

Sequel of Winters and the Beast, a Resident Evil: Village Story

Table Of Contents

Ethan didn’t move much from the bed the next day, and the others stayed true to their word and kept him company.  Rose and Karl made him a very messy breakfast-in-bed, with more than a few fingerprints in the pancakes, and coffee with at least six ounces of sugar in it.  Rose seemed to understand her father’s mood, laying her little head on his chest and patting him reassuringly.  But soon she was too restless for the room, so Karl suggested she accompany him with rebuilding a carburetor.  She was ecstatic at this suggestion, for some reason.    

Conversation flowed casually between the women, and he was content to listen even if he didn’t understand most of their language.  Some big sewing project was happening between them, and he didn’t understand anything about that either.  Ethan felt a heavy weight on his chest; closing his eyes meant he saw the night’s events over and over.  He pondered as the comforting sound of the language cushioned him from darker emotions, allowing him to think. 

Was it his fault?  Should they not have taunted Miranda?  He didn’t blame Karl now, for the man’s earlier hesitancy toward her.  The fear stricken look he’d given when she approached him during Eva’s ceremony.  But a tiny voice whispered in Ethan’s head that it was better this way….Mia was better off not existing, than existing in a prison.  

Hadn’t she always, though?  A self-imposed prison, but a prison nonetheless.  

He could not deny that often, Mia seemed unhappy.  As if she were playing domestic, not actually being domestic.  She was jealous when he trained with Chris, annoyed when he brought up time at the shooting range, or his self defense classes.  Mia may have never wanted the life that they had together, and may not have known how to break that to him, he realized.  She'd probably even tried, and he'd argued over her. 

Considering all of this brought up a well of emotion he could not confront.  Ethan had finally understood months ago, when he tossed away their wedding rings, that the betrayal was too much, her lies were too much.  He had intended to move forward as a single father.  He had still envisioned them speaking, though.  Raising Rose as co-parents.  Making mutual decisions for her care.  Maybe one day, years from now when the hurt went away....talking it over.  Seeing how love had made them blind to their issues.  Making peace. 

Now he saw the futility, even the wild ridiculousness of that idea.  The world he’d existed in before seemed like the dream-not this world.  This world made sense with all its strangeness and ever-present mystery, while the other world was no more real than the shows that the girls were eager to show Donna.  Some fantasy, where two normal humans did normal human things like raising a daughter after divorce.  He had traded one fantasy for another, had moved from one denial of truth to another.  

When it came time to prepare food, he finally had time alone to shower and get dressed while the others contemplated a feast.  Food healed–Maricara was adamant, and Ethan didn’t dare argue. Donna promised to return after she too got dressed and ready for the day, and Ethan plodded rather pathetically into the large bathroom.  

Water didn’t warm him, being clean didn’t perk him up.  Fresh clothes meant nothing.  Brushing his teeth was a chore.  Ethan did a double-take in the mirror; had his reflection….moved?  Had it been looking at him?  Were his eyes black again?  With a shaky hand, he put the toothbrush back in its place and stared at the mirror.  Normal.  Nothing off.  Maybe he’d imagined it. 

Just to be sure, Ethan blinked to a place he no longer had reason to linger in–the liminal space, the thin veil between the Mold’s catalogued world, and the real world.  The place where he’d first met Eva, and likely the place he visited in his dreams.  

The room around him was glitchy, full of bloom, saturated in unnatural golden light.  Everything blurred. But there in the mirror he stood, looking….different.  Hollow.  Dead?  The reflection did move, tilting its head at him.  What was he seeing?  

He heard his own voice, laced with another.  A feminine voice.  It had to be Miranda.  

There’s another way.  

“What?”  Had anyone walked in and witnessed him talking to himself, he would have looked insane. 

Don’t resignate yourself to feeling this pain.  

“I don’t have a choice,” he grumbled, unsettled by the unmoving, blank stare of the reflection.  Was this his inner voice?  Was it Miranda’s influence?  Who was looking back at him?  It was him, without a doubt.  

Pain is weakness.  Do not give in.  You are more than human. 

He closed his eyes abruptly, hearing the threads of many voices echoing the words, as if in agreement.  Ethan splashed water from the sink onto his face and looked again; he was back in reality, back to seeing a shocked and pale version of his face.  Trembling lips, bloodshot eyes, tear-stained cheeks, hair that hadn’t been styled properly in days.  But at least he didn’t look…well….evil.  

Ethan knew what Eva would say–it was a defense mechanism of the Mold, learning human patterns of thinking, it was Miranda, overriding the natural order of things….it was something he could ignore, and he was the noble human she always scolded him about.  But it seemed to him like a warning, a conviction to continue trying to…what was he trying to do?  Grieve?  He had to change.  He had to do something that the Ethan in the mirror wouldn't do. 

So he returned to the bed, shivering under the blankets, staring at the wall, wondering what it was to be not-stubborn.  Not Ethan. 

Donna returned with the opportunity.  Her hair was in a long braid still, but it was brushed, and her face was fresh.  She wore to no one’s surprise, a black dress, and as she prepared to take her seat by the foot of the bed, Ethan spoke.  

“Donna.” 

Her wide brown eyes caught his; she always looked so easily startled.  When her hand moved toward her brow, to cover it, he held out a hand and gestured.  “Sit with me?”

A rosy blush crept across her cheeks, and she tried to stutter a reply, but he coaxed, “No funny stuff, I promise.”  When she hesitantly moved toward him, he explained, “I figure we both could use a hug right now.” 

So she settled next to him on the bed, first stiff and terrified; he could hear her heartbeat thrumming like a mouse’s.  How could such a delicate person be so capable of creating such horrors? All thanks to Miranda, and what she forced on her subjects.  The lords may have had it better than the villagers, but he was learning only minimally so. 

Donna was shorter than he, and fit into the crook of his arm easily.  Ethan hugged her with hesitation, gentleness (the opposite of the way he and Karl embraced) and she soon relaxed, burying her face into his chest and laying one slender arm across his torso.  

Everything was quiet for a few minutes.  Then she tried, with a voice full of fear, “I’m sorry about your wife.” 

“Wasn’t the first time,” he exhaled, staring at the ceiling.  “Hopefully it’s the last.” 

“I understand.  Death should never be a cycle.  It should be finite.” 

He felt a pang of empathy, hugged her more tightly.  

“I guess you’ve dealt with it a lot,” he said, feeling stupid at the obviousness of this sentence.  But she seemed to appreciate the simple exchange.

“Far too much.  I feel as if I know more of death than life.” 

“...How do you feel about living?  Do you want to be back?”  He was hovering away from the eventual conversation, the one they’d have to have about her possibility of dying.  Well, according to Godric, all they had to do to prevent that was revive Moreau, which seemed backward if Ethan was being generous.  But having never embraced death, or even accepted it, he wanted to hear her thoughts. 

“I fear it beyond reason, and desire it, terribly, so much that it hurts.”  She had a way with words.  Maybe it was all the poems that she liked.  “Like Heisenberg, with love.”  

He chuckled.  In a sardonic tone, with raised eyebrows, he asked, “You really think Karl desires love?”

“I have known him for a long time,” she reminded Ethan.  “He has always been clumsy, too loud, too angry.  One kind word and he would light up like the sun.  One hurtful word and he was shut down, inconsolable.  One of the village elder men called him a terrible name once, because Karl did not like trapping animals for fur.  He said fur was meant for them, not for us.  After the elder ridiculed him, Karl disappeared for a month, no one saw him.  The elder’s metal traps disappeared from the forests, and every new one he would buy, ended up a warped piece of metal overnight.  He could not even sell the scrap, no one wanted it.”  Both Ethan and Donna were chuckling at this.  “He gave up, and never had a clue the effect of his words.  But yes,” she sighed.  “I do think he wants love.”  

“And you want life,” Ethan nodded.  “I can see how both of those are scary.  Never saw it that way before…but I sure can now.” 

“What about you, Ethan?  What is it you want, and fear?”

“You’re not gonna hold me hostage in your basement again if I tell you, are you?”

She actually giggled at this, and he continued, “I don’t know if it’s a want, but…I think I need, to learn when to…to let go, maybe.  How to let go.”  

More silence.  

“I would have never ended up in Dulvey if I’d just…forwarded Mia’s message to authorities.  Let them handle it.  But I took it so personally that she would just disappear, I wanted to hear it from her.  It’s stupid.  I don’t regret trying to help her, or Zoe, once I was there, but…I just…dig in and won’t let go, of anything.  Mia wanted to break up after Dulvey.  I argued against it.  She wasn’t sure about having a baby, when she found out she was pregnant.  I argued about that, too.”

“I can see why Karl likes you,” Donna murmured with the hint of a smile in her voice.  “You’re stubborn.”  

“I can’t let go,” he repeated.  “When I love something, I just…can’t lose it.  How did you manage, how did you go on, after losing your family?” 

“I didn’t, when Miranda ruled the village,” she admitted quietly.  “She kept us all in a state of…worry, fear, of losing her instead.  I could not process my loss, I was stuck in a horrible nightmare, which I put others through as well.  But now?  Heisenberg says we all have an animal inside. It is as you said, “letting go.” In my grief, the animal has awoken.  I have felt very much like an animal lately… Heisenberg also says it will pass, I will come back as a whole person.  What do you think?”

“I think I’ve ignored the nightmare, to get through it, and…I don’t really know how to be an animal.  To let go.”  

“Crying a lot helps,” she said cheerfully, and they both laughed.  

Eva entered the room, a bright smile on her face as she heard the laughter, and Ethan saw the cause of her dancing footsteps when he glanced in her hands. 

“Someone is thinking of you, Ethan,” she said in a singsong voice, and he stared at the patera.  It was full of wine. 

“Is that…did you…?”

“It was like this on the nightstand,” she said, her eyebrows lifting impossibly high.  She giggled, and held out the bowl with an expectant gaze.  Ethan sat up uncertainly and peered into the dish.  Dark purplish-hued liquid, thick.  It smelled like berries, burned wood, cold earth.  Donna shrank away from it.  

“Would you uh, wanna….?”  He felt as though they were closer now, close enough to invite to whatever the hell this was, but Donna was still wide-eyed, fearful.  

“You go ahead,” Donna nodded, slinking away from the bed and moving back to her chair.  “I think I will spend some time contemplating my animal, and letting go.” 

Ethan met her eyes and this time she looked slightly braver, held his gaze for slightly longer, before smiling and looking down.  Eva was nearly buzzing, bouncing on her toes as she awaited to partake in the libation.  Ethan had a pretty good idea of what, or who, drinking it would lead to.  

“Cheers,” he sighed, holding the bowl. 

[divine17]

↳ READ MY MIND | MASTERLIST

Request: “Fezco with a trouble maker reader? Someone who always end of in beef or getting in fights.” - Anon

+ “I would like to see fezco with a bad bitch like both of them with the energy of only soft with each other” - @possuir-se

+ “hii !! could i possibly request a fezco x reader ? maybe their fwb or have been pining for each other for a while?" - Anon

Word Count: 1.8k

Warnings: Fem!Reader, brief kissing/nsfw, mentions of physical fighting, smoking weed

As crazy as it sounded, Fezco was kind of convinced that you were his guardian angel. Or that’s, how it seemed, at least.

Honestly, he never was very good at expressing himself, at putting all the words in the right order to say how he felt. Especially when it was something so nuanced and complicated, but something about you made him want to try. Like, really try. But for now, his own messy thoughts would have to do.

You were the first person he’d ever met who matched his energy, who really understood him. You knew him better than he even really knew himself, and you managed to fill in all of his gaps and cracks and crevices and make him feel so whole. And you were the first person he really, truly trusted, and the first to ever care about him, other than Grandma and Ashtray, even if you were too damn stubborn to ever admit it out loud. He knew, though. He knew that the (admittedly, probably far too many) nights you spent helping him get his shit together or heal his mind with a couple joints and a good conversation, the ones where you made sure to bring dinner for the three of you and check on your boys… They didn’t really mean nothing, did they?

And you never had to say it, but Fezco knew that you loved him, and you liked it that way. Unspoken, like an open secret that both of you just kind of accepted. And things were fine the way they were, a silent, but mutual, agreement.

But it was funny, y’know. You were known by so many people, and had he told any one of them how you were with him and Ash, they’d probably laugh in his face as if he were telling a joke. Never in a million years would someone believe you, Y/N Y/L/N, were capable of being so soft and caring like you were with him. He was sure they’d call him a liar before he even finished his sentence, laughing in disbelief at the thought of you being so gentle as to bring him dinner because you couldn’t much bare the thought of him not eating, for Christ’s sake.

Even Rue looked at you a little funny when she first realized how much you cared for him, but she was glad to see it. It was funny, he thought. But it wasn’t like he could really judge, either; He reminded himself that a lot of people would say the same of him.

And it wasn’t like people thought you were evil or anything, though, you just had a certain reputation to a lot of people. Cold, in a way, and not really one to be fucked with. Sort of a troublemaker, too. Someone always had some story to spin about how you beat the shit out of some guy one time or how you slammed someone’s head in a locker, but honestly? It kind of made you laugh. Most of it was some strange version of East Highland folklore at this point, and Fez knew that. When someone tried to tell him one of those stories, he couldn’t help but smirk, taking a sip of his drink or a hit off his blunt to hide it.

He couldn’t say he was big into all the spirituality shit, or even really knew that much about it, but it was sort of like you were the earth and he was the air, and the two of you couldn’t have worked together more perfectly. You were his own personal angel, sort of, in some weird way.

Outside his mind, his hands moved beneath him as he rolled a joint, fingers smoothing over the edges and folding the thin paper so neatly. He’d done this a million times, and it was obvious with the way he could do it without thinking about it. In, fold, lick, press, slide. You watched quietly and picked nervously at a thread on your jeans, watching him seal the paper and reach for something on the pavement beside you. You look up at him when the lighter flicks, watching as a small plume of smoke drifts from the cherry. He puffs softly, blue eyes fluttering shut as he exhales, making sure to blow it away from you. To him, there was no better way to end the day than sitting on these stupid old concrete stairs with you like this, and you couldn’t say you didn’t think the same.

“We still gotta close up, you know. Smoking doesn’t make the chores go away.” You laugh, your fingers brushing his as you take it from him. He smiles, opening his eyes to see the milky white smoke dancing around your head. It contrasted against the dark sky, and you looked like an angel, almost. He watches your halo drift away into the night before he speaks.

“No, but it makes it better. ‘Specially when you’re ‘round.”

He’s got a lazy smirk on his lips and you can’t help but laugh again as you take another puff, nearly coughing on the smoke, which stupidly makes both of you grin. Through all this, Fezco can’t look away. You’re just so damn pretty.

Lately, it seems like everything you do is just so… Dunno, so… Distracting, he thought. Completely and utterly distracting. He couldn’t get you out of his mind, even on the days he didn’t see you (especially the days he didn’t see you), and everything you did seemed to have some effect or another on him. You felt intoxicating, and it was weird because… Well, he hasn’t ever really felt that way before, and honestly, he wasn’t even really sure what it was. It felt so familiar, but so foreign all the same, and he couldn’t quite put his finger on it.

The two of you take turns talking and taking draws until there’s nothing left of the joint but filter. Fezco’s leaned back against the cool wall and you lay against him, where the shoulder meets the chest. He’s soft and warm in the February wind, and his beard tickles the top of your head. You want nothing more than to stay in this moment with him, head on his chest, but you know it’s getting late.

“Hate to be a buzzkill but if you sweep, I’ll count out the money.” You say, looking up in his direction. He looks back at you through thick lashes. “And I’ll refill the chips if you do drinks.”

“I think you got a deal, mama.” He laughs softly, stretching his legs out. How he calls you ‘mama’ makes your heart beat a little faster, so you stand from your seat on the concrete instead of dwelling on it. You offer a hand to him, which makes him shoot you a sort of puzzled look. All you can do is laugh as he takes it, still pushing himself up off the ground, and walks you back around to the shop.

You make your way to the counter and jump up to sit, pushing his little stack of papers off to the side and opening the register. Money from the shop, money from his and Ash’s deals. It was all the same as you counted it, sorting out each bill neatly. Fives, tens, twenties, the dead president’s heads up and straight all distracted your mind as you counted away under your breath. Fez couldn’t help but look at you, and he thought you looked quite beautiful right now, even in the harsh, flickering fluorescents above.

And honestly? He’s not sure if he’s just a little too high or what, but he really, really wants to kiss you.

You seem to feel him staring, but you don’t mind. Instead, you look up to meet his gaze, which puts a shy little smile on his face. You wanted to be sarcastic, to make some joke about how he “should probably just take a picture,” but you can’t seem to get the words out. They get caught up in your throat, and you let them die there, and suddenly there’s butterflies in your stomach.

“Come here.” You command, your voice soft, almost nervous. He puts down whatever it is he was holding and begins to walk to where you’re sitting, keeping a slight distance between your bodies, thinking it was for the best while he was in whatever weird mood he was in currently.

And truth be told, you aren’t even sure what you’re doing until your hand reaches for his, fingers interlocking thoughtlessly. He shifts a little closer, and it’s only seconds before one of you leans in, your lips pressing together. He kisses you back without the thought of it even crossing his mind. It’s a little awkward, and not very graceful, but it feels kind of electric, somehow. His other hand comes to hold your waist, worried you might fall off the counter. It makes you gasp slightly, but he doesn’t take the chance to slip any tongue. A moment later, you pull away, confused.

“I’m sorry.” You shake your head, not meeting his gaze, not wanting to see his face, fearing he was upset over what you'd just done. “I don’t know what that was.”

“Well, uh, I think we just kissed.”

You really can’t help but laugh at his words, and you can feel the smile spreading across his lips without even seeing it. He always had a way of making you laugh when you needed it most, no matter how awful or weird the situation was.

“Yeah.” You look up, and he looks like he’s in some kind of daze. His eyes wrinkle as he smiles, baby blue eyes meeting yours, and it makes your heart beat a little faster. “Yeah, I think we did.”

“Can I be real?” He asks. You nod, mumbling a small ‘of course’. “I kinda wanna do it again.”

You nod, and he leans forward, your lips meeting again. This time is better than the last. It’s less clumsy. The two of you work in sync now, his hands still on your waist and yours finding it’s way to the back of his head, pressed into his hair. His beard scratches your cheeks but you can’t bring yourself to care, too lost in the feeling of his soft lips against yours.

Meanwhile, he’s not sure he has a full, coherent thought going through his mind. Your lips are so plush and your skin is so soft and he can feel your fingers stroking his hair now, your other hand holding his arm. It’s overwhelming in the very best way possible, and he doesn’t mind a bit.

It’s in that moment that Fezco realizes… That feeling, the familiar yet foreign one, the one he couldn’t quite label. How you were always clouding his mind, how you made him blush so easily, the butterflies in his belly whenever you laughed or touched his arm… He loves you.

He really, really loves you, and he loves you more than just as his best friend.

TAGLIST: @leah-bobeea @maudesfolklore @bigpoppajes

Add yourself here :)

[bryndeavour]

I think there’s something really brilliant about Aabria and Oscar’s handling of Wuvvy and Rue in ACoFaF. Wuvvy initially presented as fully devoted and supportive of Rue, encouraging them in seeking romance (even if they don’t like it) and enjoying the Bloom and revealing themself... and Rue swept up in that as they wrote that first letter - that ill fated one - that inevitably broke the sanctity of their relationship because of Rue’s decision to Command the letter’s destruction in their PANIC. After that - the duel and onward - were messy messy decisions by Wuvvy fueled by hurt and jealousy and of course then leaning into their position and their court - even so much as mixing with the big wigs in the Parlour scene. 

It’s such a real feeling situation, despite being faeries and whatnot, of Coming Out and realizing that even the people who are closest to you who encourage you are truly not always on board for what being your true self means and the rippling changes in your life that come from that. That by opening yourself up to the world and others in full honesty, that you no longer fit your past molds, and that can sometimes drive a rift between people because those others are unable to grow alongside you. Because despite them telling you that they LOVE YOU for the real you, they don’t - truly - because they don’t SUPPORT what that means for you or understand why changes must happen. Wuvvy thinks that saying ‘I love you’ is truth, but its really just a mask of their own and something they have told themself and told Rue so many times that they want it to be Enough. Wuvvy hasn’t actually told Rue the truth about their feelings - I’m talking about lying by omission - and really the best show of caring and support and compassion is mutual communication and mutual growth. The first step to healing is also saying ‘this thing that has happened has hurt me and I need you to know that so we can work together move past the hurt’. And sometimes life changes can take people different directions but the way this has gone indicates that split may be a bad one, when it could in fact be understood and caring and mutual. 

It feels very real and something I think alot of people feel as they get older and find themselves. Also that when that open communication never happens and those people grow apart, the looking back is sort of bittersweet - but also not anything that feels like you should make the effort to repair - because you really are different people and you have found the support and love elsewhere and many people love you and you love them, with full acceptance and honesty and care without guilt or with strings attached. 

[deansfreckless]

little ((bad)) something i wrote because insanity y’know. also I miss them.

“Cas, am I old?” Dean asks one day, looking towards the mirror, arms slouched along the sides, strays of grey hair muffled.

Cas - lying on the bed, bare torso, messy hair on top of his head - turns and looks at him questioningly.

Dean glances back at Cas through the mirror.

“What’s the matter?" Cas asks.

Dean’s firm lips hold a breath before answering. He lightly sighs, scratches his nape nervously and snorts “It’s— Nothing, ‘s just..nothing.”

“Dean” Cas says like he always does - fond, serious, apprehensive, loving- when Dean acts like that and Cas gets out of the bed, bedsheets slowly tracing and abandoning his body and hugs him from behind- bare torso, warm against dean - and places a soft kiss on the shoulder.

He glances at the mirror. Sees dean staring at his reflection.

“You are beautiful, Dean” Cas says. Plain and simple just because it’s true, just because he can say those things to Dean, just because Dean deserves to hear them. And Dean full on freezes. And Cas’ heart breaks a little.

When dean speaks again, his voice comes out in a rasp “’M turning 50 this year, Cas”

“That’s how birthdays work, Dean”

Dean elbows him softly but his voice is filled with a hint of laughter “You are spending too much time with Sam. Can’t handle two sarcastic-pain-in-the-ass nerds”

Cas huffs a laughter and kisses dean on the cheek. Dean’s body warm and soft against the cold air that fills the room.

“You turning 50 doesn’t determine your beauty, Dean. Or whatever it is you are concerned about now”

“Not concerned just— yeah, whatever”Dean snorts, still staring at his reflection. His right hand follows the outlines of his appearance, a grimace holding his lips.

“It’s just...My belly. Always had defined abs, you know and now it’s all soft”

Cas looks at him for a while, light sighs filling the room. Dean seems to tighten from his gaze.

“I love your belly, Dean” Cas slowly murmurs, locking eyes with the other man’s reflection. “I like putting my head there at night when we read in silence or when you put a movie on. One of those movies you love so much. I like to plant kisses there, seeing you blush under my displays of affection”

Dean remains silent for a moment, then: “I don’t blush”

Cas rolls his eyes, a gesture he has learned from watching human behavior and that finds pretty useful when dealing with the winchesters. A smile tugs his lips.

He kisses Dean’s collarbone -once, twice- and feels Dean leaning in the embrace.

“My hair.. I-“

Cas doesn’t miss a beat: “Few and little grey hairs at your sides, on the top and back of your head. I have them too and I think they suit you. It seems to mark your stay on earth, Dean. When a new one grows it’s like a confirm you are here and you are okay. That we are okay, are we, Dean?”

Cas knows the answer. Has known for a long time now.

It’s in the way they look at each other at night, intimate and vulnerable, fingers intertwined and legs dangling from the bed.

It’s in the mornings and the silence they mutually share, in the walk towards the kitchen, sometimes alone founding the other already there, cup of coffee in their hands and another ready for them to drink; sometimes together, grumpy and slightly tired and so in love.

It’s in Dean’s ever so green eyes looking at him with ease, in their fights from time to time that leave them angry and sad and confused, hands still holding the other’s, it’s in the nightmares and the caring and the memories and the hope. it’s in everything they are and in nothing less than that.

“Of course we are, dumbass” Dean says, rolling his eyes. Then:”My-“

“Dean” Cas states "Turn around”

And Dean does. And Cas kisses him while he talks-every part he can reach.

“You have little crinkles forming at your eyes when you smile now. I love them, I love seeing them because I love seeing you smile and laugh and grin just like you do. I like your softness, your hair, your belly, the freckles that seem to have increased, your strays of grey hair. I love the scars you have that are healing. I hate that you have them, that you had to go through such sufference, but you have them and it’s okay, Dean. It’s okay to have them and to be reminded of how strong you were. Of how strong you are. I love everything about what makes you feel older in a way because to me, it’s a sign that this, all of this, is real, that this is happening, that you are aging and living your life just like you deserve to, that you are safe and, hopefully, happy and serene. And that you feel loved- There’s nothing I want more than that, I hope you know it. And more, more than anything, Dean, your soul is beautiful. Pure light shining and glowing every time I look at you, and I know you are judging yourself from just your physicality- It’s something humans tend to do, but oh, dean if they.. if you could just see how incredible and pure and clean and wonderful you really are.... if you could just see yourself once, just once from my perspective, see how I see you, how I perceive you. I will spend everyday I get to have on this planet telling you just how beautiful you are, Dean, until you can finally realize the beauty you hold into your heart. You are beautiful, Dean. Still and always. Absolutely ethereal and I am so deeply in love with you”

If Dean sheds some tears, that’s nobody’s business, but Cas holds him tightly then and there and talks to him, softly traces his body murmuring praises and Dean breaks and breaks and breaks. But he is with Cas. He is safe. He can let himself break.

“Dean.. I- Me growing older, it’s okay for you isn’t it?”Cas asks at some point. Silence stretching between them.

“There was never one, there’s no one and there will never be one I’d rather growing older with than you, Cas”

“Plus" Dean adds, grinning “I love your grey hair. Makes you look like a dilf.”

“Dean”