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beetlejuicyy · 6 months

Note

How about Bada lee angst based from a song, exile - Taylor swift. Bada in Bon iver pov while reader's Taylor. Sorry if there's any mistakes in my grammar, English is not my first language

Exile

Pairing: Bada Lee x idol! reader

Synopsys: you and Bada meet at the the W party after your break up

Warnings: angst

Notes: i love writing based on songs apparently. ty anon for requesting this and i hope you enjoy!!

Masterlist

✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦

She couldn’t say she didn’t expect you to be here. The W party meant famous guests and a great chance to networking. Bada would lie if she said a part of her was not happy to see you after so long. But she didn’t expect you to be on a man’s arm. And you were ironically enough sitting at the same table just across each other.

I can see you standing, honey

With his arms around your body

Laughin’, but the joke’s not funny at all

You were your ever charming self, paying attention to every word he said, laughing whenever he made some stupid jokes even a middle school kid would find cringe. You were wearing a classic little black dress that fit your body like a glove. You were as gorgeous as she remembered. Of course she saw you everywhere; makeup advertising, promoting your new song, thirst traps on tiktok. You haven’t been in touch for a while but she always kept an eye on you, no matter how ugly things ended between the two of you.

Now you showed up here with that creature. He wasn’t even handsome. It took her utmost control to keep smiling and navigate through all those people, exchange compliments as a possible beginning for future projects. But you were always somewhere in the corner of her vision, introducing your partner to people. Fans on the internet were saying it was just promotions for your new role in a drama. Other people said you were dating for real. She couldn’t tell.

And it took you five whole minutes

To pack us up and leave me with it

Holdin’ all this love out here in the hall

She showed her cool self as always, although, as she stepped on the carpet in front of all the cameras, the lights blinded her and for a moment she felt like running. Bada was still in love with you, she was very much aware of it. As she walked to the sea of people, finding familiar faces that brought her comfort, she tried to hide the toll your presence was taking on her mood. You were the one who broke up with her after all, she could find the minimal amount of dignity left in her to look fine at least.

She couldn’t ignore you though. You worked together before and everyone knew you were close. You flashed her a dangerously frozen smile, large and perfect, the kind you had to rehearse for. On the outside it looked friendly and excited but behind your eyes was emptiness. She waved her hand back at you from the distance, faking excitement. Your partner must have known her because he waved too, eager to get to know Bada Lee, the dancer with all the spotlight on her at the moment. You dragged him somewhere else, away from her.

I think I’ve seen this film before

And I didn’t like the ending

You’re not my homeland anymore

So what am I defending now?

Bada knew she had no right to be jealous. Your relationship was over a long time ago. But the seed of hope buried in her heart gave birth to the thought of talking to you alone. You had broken up several times and made up the moment you stumbled upon each other again. Maybe this could be one of those times when you would realize you loved her more than your ego allowed you to.

The hardest part was finding out you were seated at the same table, across each other nonetheless. She was well aware that death stares at your partner would be obvious. So she looked at you instead. Elegant and delightful, you looked around carefully, making sure you greeted everyone around the table while maintaining your graceful posture. Bada’s stare softened, remembering seeing you after schedule, when you would throw away your high heels and devour the biggest portion of instant ramen she had at home. Carefree and natural, loud and dramatic, full of life. That’s how she knew you. And she knew that behind the meticulously planned behavior you displayed, you were still the same girl she fell for. But you weren’t together anymore.

Taking another sip of champagne, she quietly went backstage to change her outfit for the performance. She had to let go of these regretful thoughts that didn’t fit at all with her dance tonight. She had to be powerful and charming, deliver what the people liked. What you liked.

I can see you starin’, honey

Like he’s just your understudy

Like you’d get your knuckles bloody for me

You noticed Bada’s eyes were lost lingering on your figure. You were used to people staring at you, especially when you were the main attraction in an expensive outfit at the top of the guest list. But her eyes always unsettled you.

It wasn’t a surprise for you that she was here. After all you had friends working at W who generously updated you with the full guest list before the event. But by the time you found out she was going to be here too it was too late to talk to your manager and go without a partner. You had to promote your upcoming drama in every way possible. But you wished you could have been here alone in front of her.

You noticed, of course you noticed how she was staring at him, questions popping in her head. You knew her better than you knew yourself. And maybe that’s why you weren’t together anymore. Had it not been this time and place, she would have started messing the poor man up out of jealousy. But he had no fault. He was a young guy with a dream of making it big, having just landed the role of his life with you.

Second, third, and hundredth chance

Balancin’ on breaking branches

Those eyes add insult to injury

You looked back at her a couple of times across the table, trying to hide the hurricane of feelings in your chest. How many unresolved issues you had? You stopped counting long ago. Her eyes were cloudy and lost, at times it seemed like she was looking through you. She never tried hard enough to make it work, and loving each other like crazy was not enough to fix things. Or was it?

She seemed happy and excited to be here, you followed her at all times form under your lashes. You were proud of her for winning the competition, but any more than the simple congratulatory text you had sent her would have pushed you back in the same cycle. Breaking up and making up like none of you could make up their mind for good.

I think I’ve seen this film before

And I didn’t like the ending

I’m not your problem anymore

So who am I offending now?

Although you were at work, although all eyes were on you, although you haven’t spoken in months, although she never listened to your complaints, she was looking at you like you belonged to her. Like you betrayed her by showing up with someone else. You wished she would just look the other way so it would be easier for the both of you. Instead, you had to play this stupid game of looking like the total opposite of what you were feeling, deciphering each other’s body language and fake smiles, pushing through the shock of seeing each other in order to portray the role you had to play.

When she performed she was breathtaking like she always was to you. Her facial expressions, the way she would enjoy the song, play along with the audience, her flirty looks for the camera all of those things melted your heart once again, after months and months of trying to lock it up.

I think I’ve seen this film before

And I didn’t like the ending

You cheered for her. You had been supporting her all this time from afar anyway. But you could sense the shift in your heart and recognize the same pattern that always led to your making up. You swore to her on the night you broke up that it was the last time. You simply couldn’t work out. With every time you went back to each other your issues grew deeper and deeper the more you avoided talking about them.

You quietly excused yourself to the bathroom after the performance, a perfect moment to disappear unnoticed. You took a good look at yourself in the mirror. Perfect, without a single trace of the pain you felt inside.

So step right out, there is no amount

Of crying I can do for you

You had ran out of tears long ago. You only needed time to breathe, a break from the theatre play you had been performing tonight. You could go back makeup untouched, voice cheerful in any minute. Because you weren’t going to cry because of her.

I couldn’t turn things around

‘Cause you never gave a warning sign

Bada was taken over by the people requesting pictures and sharing impressions on their performance. She saw you watching, she was sure, but where did you disappear now? She never knew what you were up to, what you were truly feeling or thinking. You knew so well how to hide the ugly aspects of life that you hid from her too, even unintentionally. She couldn’t know you were in the bathroom almost crying because you never looked the least affected by her.

Your partner showed up in front of her, as he had been waiting in line to get the chance to exchange some words of admiration. Bada greeted him politely, like any other person. He seemed to know nothing of your history.

Now I’m in exile, seein’ you out

You appeared out of nowhere, grabbing him by the arm, apologizing once again for disappearing. As close as you were, the closest you had been the entire night, you felt like an invisible wall separated the two of you. It was your cue, your turn to tell her how amazing she was on the stage. Your lines were already thought and well aligned with the social script like always.

“I can’t wait to watch your new drama.” She took you by surprise, and you lost your composure for a moment. Your partner laughed and thanked her. You wanted to reach out and grab her hand run away right then.

Now I’m in exile, seein’ you out

But there was this wall between you, separating what you had been from what you were now.

“You’re as good at dance as I remember.” You chimed in, earning a shy smile from her as she looked to the ground, thanking you. That’s all you could do. “See you around, Bada.” You said, your voice taken over by the nostalgia you had been feeling the entire night. The words weighted heavier than you had planned in your head and you wondered whether it was a mistake.

“I’ll be around for sure.” She said. The other members of Bebe called for her to take a group picture. With awkward smiles and lingering eyes that yearned for each other you both turned around, tending to your own business.

#bada lee #bada lee imagine #bada lee x reader #bada lee x y/n #bada x reader

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babygirl-riley · 7 months

Note

Could we have an alternative version of part 2 to lies? I crave pure angst, maybe reader doesn’t forgive him?

Lies Pt 2 Alternative Ending

You started to pack your things as Simon came home.

A/N: Oh yeah, I love the angst as well. Hehehe evil idea 😈 We love the angstttt! But here it is anon, hope it fulfills its expectation.

“I think I seen this film before and I didn’t like the ending.”

Warnings: angst, literally PURE fucking depression, not a happy ending, trauma, childhood trauma

simon x reader guide

simon x reader fluff/angst list

happy ending

You were packing. You couldn’t be in this god forsaken area anymore. You couldn’t look without seeing him. Seeing his face everywhere. Seeing your team. You were done. Done with everything. Your eyes burning with tears and your heart burning with anger. That was the first thing you did once opening this apartment door.

Simon knew what was coming next, he knew once you left the room. Price let him go in hopes everything would be fixed. Instead he came home with shit all over and you pacing. “Let’s talk please.” He begged watching you grab belongings.

You didn’t say anything as you pulled bags and cases, stuffing them. You couldn’t believe he even came here, yes you both lived here. But you didn’t want to see or even hear him. A week before he faked his iconic death, this was both of your home. A home that you could come back to. Feeling safe. Now darkened. You grabbed clothes piling them quickly next to a case. Simon’s heart raced quickly as more things started to pile up. “Please just hear me out.” He said stepping in front of you.

You froze, your lips trembling, anger bubbling up through your veins. “Move.” You ordered, he stood his ground.

“Where will ya go? Let’s just talk please.” Simon said trying to keep himself from holding you.

He fucked up bad, the realization setting in. Noticing the apartment disarrayed even before you grabbed your things. He realized how fucked up you were when he was gone. Bottles of liquor scattered, food and dishes piled in the kitchen. Simon was trying to calm himself, trying to get you to settle. To talk. To save the both of you.

“My parents live in the US,” You said moving passed him. Simon shook his head. “I already have a fucking plane. I already paid for all the bags I will use. I am going.”

Simon shook his head again. “No ya don’t have to go back to the states.”

You laughed, like it was a joke. Maybe it was. “You should have thought about that before you selfishly left.”

Simon laughed this time. “Selfishly, it was to protect the team. You!”

You snapped your head over to him. “ME! You are fucking joking Simon, this is all some sick fucking joke between you and boys huh,” Simon kept shaking his head as you fully turned around. “You lied you fucking lied! And it’s not some fucking lie that you can just brush underneath a neat fucking rug Simon! Do you realize how fucking serious this is?”

“Ya I do, I realize that! I had no choice it was a fuckin’ order! It was to get Samson out of hiding! It was the best choice!” Fuck. That’s not what he meant.

“Best fucking choice! There was other choices?!” You yelled, lifting your hands to your face.

“No there wasn’t there was no…”

“Bull shit! All this is bull shit! We were suppose to be a team Simon! A team! Instead you decided to play fucking hero! You decided that it was okay to play around with your foot soldiers and with the fucking captain! Everyone knew! Not including me of course! You wanted a fucking show! All of you!” You yelled flipping your body around stuffing a bag.

He walked up to turn you around. “I didn’t want it!”

You pushed him off getting in his face. Tears running down your face, anger written all over your face. “Don’t. Fucking. Touch. Me. You lost that the moment you fucking died.”

Simon stared into your eyes for moment. His heart tearing itself apart. “I can’t loose you,” He whispered, his own tears brimming his eyes. “We can fix this.”

He saw the internal battle. Your eyes soften then you blinked it away. Your Ghost shielding your innocents. Just how his Ghost shielded Simon. “No Simon this can’t be fixed. You can’t fix this. What if I killed myself? You know how guilty you would have felt?”

“That’s not fair.” He mumbled, thinking about if that route turned. If that route happened. Seeing you pale, cold. Gone. Simon would have felt guilty, would have gone off the rails. He caused that pain.

You got up closer to his face. “It’s only fucking fair, that’s how much pain I was in. I would have hated to see you in that pain,” You gasped trying to hold back a sob. You pressed your finger against his chest. “The funny thing is Simon you didn’t care. But I would have.”

Simon glared pushing your finger off. “Don’t put words in my mouth.” He stepped back rolling his eyes.

“I don’t need words to know how you fucking feel Simon.” You snapped back.

“You would have done the same thing! If it meant to protect me!” Simon argued. He tried to collect himself, feeling the guilt taking over his veins.

You raked your fingers through your hair, laughing. “You are just getting more and more funnier Simon! I would have chose US, I would have found a different way! I would have argued! I would never ever put you in a situation like you went through with your fucking family!”

Simon consciously stepped back. He waited for a apology or a change in your demeanor that you didn’t meant to bring up his family. “This is where you apologize.” He said.

“Apologize? I know how much pain that brought you and I’m sorry for that but it seems like to me in order to get into your fucking mind. Is to relate it to that. You were my family. You were my person. But you died. You are dead to me.” You mumbled, you wanted to apologize, you knew the darkness behind his past but…how else could you tell him how you felt.

Simon could feel Ghost’s hands grabbing at him. Pulling him into a secure place. “That was fucking different. They were taken away from me without comin’ back.”

You shook your head. “Yeah but that would have been the same for me. You were gone, I couldn’t do fucking anything about it.”

Simon just stood there, the silent of the apartment now building. Everything was falling apart. Simon felt himself closing up, just like you closing up. The trust broken. The happy memories being plagued into this one. The happy home, that was called a home turning into a empty home. “Choices have consequences,” You said zipping up a bag. “Ironic that it was something you said.”

Simon didn’t know what to say. What could he say? He wanted to fix it, do something but it seemed like you were done. With no fighting for it. “Please.” He begged one more time, hoping that this was a nightmare or that you would stop and agree.

However more things started to disappear and bags being brought out next to the door of the apartment. “Simon I can’t. You broke a promise that I don’t know if you can ever keep. Work will always come first with you. Which is you. But me I can’t go through a lie like that again and I can not trust you to not do it again.”

Ghost stood there, jaw clenching, everything turned off. Simon now gone letting Ghost take over. “If there isn’t trust then fine,” He said walking towards the door. “Then leave don’t expect me pickin’ up when you call.”

You scoffed. “Don’t worry Ghost,” Ghost’s heart pinged with pain from you changing his name. You noticed the change in demeanor immediately, you seen him do it over and over during missions. Protecting Simon from the awful things he had to in the line of work. “You won’t get a call.”

Ghost looked over his shoulder to see you watching him leave. Seeing the tears. Seeing the pain. The tears and pain that he caused. Nothing can be fixed. This can’t be fixed. Ghost wanted to go back in time and tell Price to fuck off, that there could have been a different way. The only thing Simon was happy with, the only thing that made him not feeling like a ghost. A monster.

The look in your eyes when he walked through the door made him feeling a monster again. Made him know that he fucked everything up. Made you look at him with no love or adoration but hate and denunciation. He never seen that look towards him.

Watching him stay at the door made you want to reach out. Made you want to forgive. Made you want to try. However you were tired, you felt betrayed. The memories of both you laughing in this apartment being erased into this. Tears and anger. Broken hearts. “Good I don’t wanna hear from ya again. Ya better be gone by the time I get back.” With that he slammed the door behind him.

You stood there for a moment, waiting for him to come back in. You fell to your knees placing your hands over your eyes. You sobbed you shook from all the emotion that prowled through you. You wanted this but why did it hurt so fucking much? Why did you want to chase after him? Hold him? When was the last kiss? When was the last love you?

Ghost stood outside of the door for a couple of minutes listening to your sobs. He fought the urge to go back in to hold you but you made your mind up. You were done. So he was done. Simon couldn’t fight it anymore, he can’t convince a mind that has already been made up. He stood there for a moment looking at the door before walking away.

You were never the same after that. You worked with your parents but you weren’t the same woman you were. They noticed that your demeanor was darker. Less happy.

Simon was never the same either. The team noticed his demeanor changed, he wasn’t Simon, it was Ghost. Only Ghost, he was cruel, and closed up. His heart turning right back into an icy cold one. Always would be away from everyone after missions. Burying himself into work.

Both you never saw each other again. Nor were you the same.

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starkwlkr · 1 year

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Hiii,i really really love your work🫀Can you do something with Pecco cuz He’s winner today🇮🇹✊🏻

exist for love | pecco bagnaia

i’m going to do half social media and half written on this one :) thank you for the request!!

“Y/n! Pecco is on the phone!” Y/n heard her mother say as she started walking away from the grammy stage. She had just won producer of the year and all she wanted was to celebrate with her boyfriend, but he was on the other side of the world racing.

“Thanks, mom.” Y/n said and grabbed her phone from her mother’s hand to see Pecco on the screen. “We did it!” She yelled and held up her award for Pecco to see.

“I’m so proud of you, amore. But that’s your award, you did it.” Pecco replied.

“Francesco! You put up with me when I had the worst writers block of my life. And you did help with some lyrics so don’t discredit yourself.”

Pecco laughed. “So I’m a grammy winner too?”

“Only if I can be the motogp world champion too.”

“Deal.”

Y/n heard someone in the background say that Pecco needed to hang up the phone. She understood that their time was limited since the start of the race was soon. It wasn’t long until Pecco and Y/n would reunite.

“I love you more than anything in the universe.” Pecco said.

“Wow, that’s a lot. I don’t think I can compete with that.” Y/n teased.

“I’m hoping one of these days you’ll make me a song with my words.” Pecco said sarcastically. What he didn’t know what that Y/n was already writing a song with words that Pecco had told her on their anniversary. Her songs were always seen as the sad songs that you would put in a playlist and title it ‘crying at 3 am’ so many fans were confused as to why she would call Pecco her muse for sad songs.

“I’ll write all the songs you want, Pecco. Bye, good luck and be safe.”

Liked by pecco63, taylorswift and 4,273,278 others

y/nmakesmusic week after grammys and we’re back to work 🫶🏼 i even got some guy who drives a motorcycle in the studio and we made a pretty song. ‘exile’ featuring bon iver is out soon! (pecco suggested the bon iver feature🥰)

pecco63 you have a lovely voice ❤️

y/nmakesmusic love you, my muse ❤️

boniver you amaze me! it is truly an honor to work with you!

y/nmakesmusic no, YOU amaze me

taylorswift can’t wait to hear your beautiful voice, y/n!

y/nmakesmusic thanks for the lessons😭❤️

taylorswift ‘lessons’ she says but they were really an excuse for us to reunite and gossip

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Liked by fabioquartararo20, pecco63 and 647,839 others

y/nmakesmusic surprise! i made this song after our fourth date. i knew francesco was the one i would make my first love song about so while he was away, i wrote a little song for him and recorded it and now i want to share it with you all! ‘exist for love’ is my baby and i hope you love her. and to pecco, here are you pretty words turned into a song that you waited for.

pecco63 you’re incredible, amore. i love you forever❤️

y/nmymother imagine being the first person y/n wrote a love song about😭 pecco is winning fr

carolabagnaia love you and your amazing talent❤️

pecco63 what about me?

carolabagnaia did you write the song? no.

pecco63 but it’s about me 😌

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#motogp instagram au #pecco bagnaia x reader #pecco bagnaia one shot #pecco bagnaia #pecco bagnaia imagine #motogp imagine #motogp x reader #motogp fanfic #producer!reader

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blckfyres · 2 years

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Hi hi! Okay so those song prompts are magnificent. How about ‘17. And at once I knew, I was not magnificent - Holocene, Bon Iver’

It would be good to have something where Aemond l sees the reader for the first time at a ball or something and his own little view that he is superior to others comes crashing down because he is in absolute awe of her? Feel free to alter/tweak/change whatever!

thank you so much @littlemisscaptainfandom ! i ran wild with this one. feral. i love the idea of aemond being outplayed because of his smugness, and the ball idea - enjoy!

request a song prompt!

Magnificent

Warnings: Aemond being in deep denial lmao WC: 3333 (nice)

Prompt 17: "And at once I knew, I was not magnificent" - Holocene, Bon Iver

He heard you long before he saw you – the uneven heel clacking of a noble’s daughter who had shirked one too many dance lessons.

“No,” he heard a lilting voice laugh, impatiently. “Like this - right foot second, you dolt.”

Dolt indeed – the instruction was lost on the girl, whoever in the Seven she was. Yet another sacrificial lamb to lure the unwed dragon into marriage, no doubt. Even with one eye and a turned back, Aemond could practically smell her family’s pathetic attempt at temptation – a corset two sizes too small and a family ambition two leagues too large.

The prince didn’t deign to watch the scene. He preferred the game of gleaning, observation – seeing without seeing. Creating the tapestry in his mind and tracing the threads to know which to pull to watch it all unravel. It had long been said by the Maesters that when one loses a sense, the others bolster themselves, and indeed, all he had to do was listen.

Aemond heard the Dolt relinquish a dramatic sigh. “It seems that I simply must retire to the fray then Elyana, lest I bring shame upon our most noble house.”

The younger – Elyana – huffed.

“It would be wise. How father expects to make you a dragon bride, I will never know. You cannot dance, or sing, or embroider –”

“Yes, and lest we forget my stunning lack of maternal instinct,” you lamented. “Remember when Darya’s little one bit me?”

Aemond smiled – smug, slight, vulpine. He was right, of course, as he always was.

The sudden sound of shattered glass upon flagstones jerked Aemond out of his wager. He acted on instinct, as he always did, head whipping towards the drunken laughter and breaking his reverie. Behind him indeed stood two girls, as different as the sun and moon. The younger, dressed in fine lilac gossamer and silver, swiftly began to chase the bard and beg for another song.

And then there was you. Aemond’s eye roamed your figure, appraising the rich, dark olive of your gown and its deep, square neckline – Braavosi velvet, he’d wager, a show of wealth to have such long sleeves of the stuff. A little demure for an attempted seduction, he mused. Perhaps her family thought to appeal to mother’s piousness.

The prince would never admit that this was the longest he had stared at a woman. He simply wanted to improve his skill of gleaning, listening, to compare the observations he made with the reality before him. It was imperative to absorb every detail; the way that your gold pendant heaved with your shallow, shocked breathing, and the sliver of hair resting on your cheek. There was a power in your tensed shoulders - coiled, reactive, ready for the threat of weight. Aemond felt his fingers twitch against his will, a yearning to carry it for you.

He snapped himself back to reality with an internal grimace - the dragon cannot lie with the lamb. The music had begun again, and you finally turned towards him, face blanching at his discovered proximity.

“Prince Aemond,” you started, eyes wide, muscles coiled – caught in the courtly snare.

The lamb is too stunned to curtsey, he mused, watching your quick fingers wringing the golden band on your thumb. You certainly were the most radiant of the sacrifices offered to him so far. Though, he parried, there would be little use in marrying a fool.

Aemond hummed, relishing in your panic for a few seconds longer than any decent gentleman would.

“I’m half-blind, not half-deaf,” he said lowly, taking a step closer. “One would do well to be wary of the court, my lady. You never know who might be listening.”

Your eyes narrowed imperceptibly – a flash of something Aemond didn’t quite recognise, gone as quickly as it appeared. Idiots have trouble accepting their transgressions, he supposed, but her polite smile had something hidden behind it, like the dark side of the moon. Deep within the tides of the fray, Alicent observed the scene with a ghost of a smile. She watched the girl hide fire and intelligence in her muscles like a coiled serpent, and bitterly wished that she had the same instinct as a girl. Perhaps then she could have avoided her fate of staring at ceilings and dancing with dragons.

Her prayer was silent as she observed you, implored with eyes instead of the tongue: Keep buying your time, sweet girl. Her second son was much too perceptive not to see through your mummer’s moronity eventually – she could already see Aemond’s eye probing your mask.

“Aemond,” the Queen beckoned with a regal nod of her head.

Time. She thought, noting the way your minds danced around each other, palpable. Love matches were rare, mind matches even more so – but she could see the way you looked at one another. Time and choice. She would gift you the mercy the gods denied her.

The prince pried his eye away from you with great effort, waiting for you to answer him. You remained silent, gaze unwavering.

Interesting. He conceded as he walked towards his mother. For a dolt.

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

Your eyes narrowed through the dim candlelight. The crowd ebbed and heaved like fresh seafoam, and you searched for your sister, your anchor in the waves, like the Oldtown lightower would a lost ship. In truth, you felt uneasy without Ely, your sworn shield against courtly attentions. It had been like this ever since you were children – a symbiotic relationship, the tide to your moon. She would sing and whirl through your father’s halls, a gossamer dervish, drawing the attention to herself and leaving you free to pursue your histories and hidden halls, and hone your sharp tongue.

You finally spotted the girl by a large table of ale, humouring a dark haired young lord who had not yet grown into his long limbs. You weaved your way through the crowd to reach her, forming a courtly, waxen smile to begin your manoeuvre.

“Sister!” You gasped, watching Elyana’s dark eyes twinkle as she recognised your ruse. “Mother requires you at once–” You cocked your head, silently wondering how every little lord fell for it. “Something about Ser Randyll?”

The little lord – Arryn, you’d wager by his gleaming brooch – blanched at the sight of your mother in deep conversation with Lord Reyne and his son. You stifled a laugh watching his chest puff up slightly at the challenge – your work was done. You pried your sister away from the little falcon’s talons, barely managing to stifle your laughing fit until he was out of earshot.

“Seven hells, Y/N, it took you long enough!” she huffed, preening over your shoulder to make sure that the young Lord Lannister hadn’t seen the exchange and think her spoken for. She had always been a romantic, excessively so, even for her six and ten years.

You pinched her dimpled cheek with a grin. “That’s for having far too much mirth in calling me a dolt earlier.”

Elyana rolled her eyes, batting your hand away. “It was your grand strategy, if I recall.”

“Yes, and I accounted for the pinch.” You said wickedly, before surveying the hall.

“A job well done I’d say, The Prince heard our performance. I even refused to curtsey. He’ll no doubt relay my idiocy to the Queen, and we’ll be home in no time at all.”

Elyana regarded you pensively, gently taking hold of your hand. Her gentleness felt like a cage to you, sometimes – perceptive, inescapable. “You know you will have to marry one day.”

Your sister watched your eyes flutter, soaking in your surroundings like a sponge. Your reply was barely audible over the internal hum of your own thoughts. “Not like this.”

You had decided that long ago. You knew you couldn’t escape a married fate – all women were cursed with the knowledge of how their lives would go from the moment they stepped into their first etiquette lesson with the septa. But, if you were to be married, it would be on your terms.

Impossible, father often branded you, but always with a fond smile. If you could not escape your fate, you would fiercely guard the little time you had with your freedom as the kingsguard would protect the king.

Though sometimes, when alone in the vespertine hush of your chambers, you could admit the presence of a longing in yourself, a desire to be seen for who you were by whoever you might be sold off to. Such longing is dangerous, you told yourself. Expect the swing of the sword, never mercy. Especially if you found yourself drawn to the wielder like a moth to flame – you were lucky to have honed your courtly mask so well upon seeing his handsome face. Though you had heard takes of the “one-eyed brute”, there was little account of the beautiful shadow his cheekbones cast, and his knowing, surveying gaze.

Your sister pulled you out of your thoughts, head nodding to a balcony alcove. She knew the price you paid for duty as the eldest. “Go. Take your refuge. I’ll be with mother.”

You offered her a tired, grateful smile before wading through the crowd towards your sanctuary, too close to paradise to be aware of the shark circling.

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

It wasn’t as though Aemond had been watching you. Mother had always taught him to be an attentive host - he was merely cultivating good will, bolstering support for the war to come. He watched you grab your third - no, fourth - glass of wine, an irritated huff escaping his nose. He supposed there was little use in lying to himself any longer - he felt pulled to you the same way he felt called to the skies. Perhaps this was the lust that seemed to drive Aegon to the depths of Fleabottom every night - maddening.

The more he watched you, the more his one good eye narrowed in bewilderment. Supposedly too dim to follow a septa’s simple instruction and notice the ears of court, yet cunning enough to weave your way through this nest of dancing vipers and their hungry sons. You could redirect the attention of a young lord with a single word, and charm your father with the raise of an eyebrow. You moulded the scenes that unfolded around you, parrying dance requests with a skill he’d only seen with Ser Cole and his morningstar.

So why the overt blundering before him? He leaned against the pillar, pensive. The only rational explanation he could fathom was that you had heard stories of him and thought to demean yourself as a marriage prospect. The prince scowled. Of course. What woman such as her would want a one-eyed beast as a husband? Aemond felt his insides twist and his fingers twitch, barely containing the ire towards himself.

Despite your repulsion of him, Aemond felt his curiosity turning ravenous in his stomach as he watched you approach your sister. He could not help but want to map you as The Conqueror once did his lands – even if you did not want him, he could watch your mind work from afar. So watch he did, as your sister held your hand in hers like water. He mapped it all to memory – your hushed words, the steely set of your eyes and jaw, your deceptive smile; a sliver of his favourite crescent moon.

The hour was late and the candles burnt low. Nobody would begrudge any of the young ladies for retiring for the night – the young Tyrell girl had already sunk so far into her cups that she had to be carried to her chambers like an overwatered rose. Yet there you slithered to the alcove, alone, alert with empty company and a full cup.

Aemond had begun to follow you long before his mind registered the movement of his legs. He followed your trail through the flurry of bright skirts, drunk on the hunt. His long legs strode with a purpose that was lost to his conscious mind, stopping when he reached the boundary of the lush, red drapery. Aemond stood outside of your sanctuary for a long while before breaching it, in an act that almost reminded him of protection. From what, he did not know. A mangled dragon guarding its hoard, he thought wryly, before stepping onto the balcony with the silence of a predator.

The prince wasn’t sure what he expected. A maiden in tears after being shunned at court, perhaps – he wasn’t sure how far you’d go to keep up the show. But there you were, in the furthest corner of the alcove, with your elbows on the dark stone and your eyes to the stars. He glanced at your now-empty cup before clearing his throat.

You sighed imperceptibly before turning to face him. So you knew I was here, then. The thought made him hide a smile - the idea of you sensing his presence and ignoring him anyway, even if you tried to hide that fact. Insolent. He thought. Magnificent.

You bowed this time, with a tired, chagrin smile - an apology for earlier. “Forgive me, my Prince. It has been a while since my sister and I have been in the capital. The intricacies of court politics appear to be lost on me.”

Aemond hummed, ignoring the way his innards clenched - my prince. He rather liked the sound of that. “Yet not so unhoned that you managed to avoid that Lannister whelp,” he paused, brow raised. It made him feel less shame to know he was not the only one you rebuked. “Not to mention that little Manderly lordling.”

The Prince enjoyed watching you war with yourself - needing to keep your shield up, yet too tired and full of ire to keep up the ruse for much longer.

“Evading them hardly requires a honed mind, my Prince.” You snorted. A clever answer. He thought. Too clever.

“Aemond.” He corrected. You narrowed your eyes at him, suspicious. “If I am to play along with your farce, let the rest of it be real.” He amended, making his way next to you but never prying his eye away.

You breathed a laugh, toying with your rings again. “You see more with one eye than most do with two, Aemond.”

The prince hummed. “It is of little consequence. They still brand me “one-eye” after all.”

“Little,” you snorted again, a glorious sound. Real, he thought, the soft skin of your hand calling him as your voice did. Real enough to touch. “Perhaps everything seems little to the rider of the largest dragon alive.”

The mention of Vhagar earnt you a small smile - a true one that you couldn’t quite look away from. Somehow you knew that it was Aemond’s version of a face-splitting grin.

You basked in comfortable silence for a while, noting how he had placed you on his right side – away from his eyepatch. The revelation made you frown, but left your vision unobstructed. It gave you a better look at the way his hair fell, an estuary of molten silver. You committed his profile to memory - the sharp edges that were strong, true, until he suddenly met your eyes. For once, you were speechless - the lush darkness of the night and the sweet smell of gardenias were suddenly oppressive.

“I really can’t dance, you know.” You blurted.

Aemond artfully raised an eyebrow in question.

“Earlier,” you clarified. “what you heard.” You tucked your hair behind your ear with what you hoped was a self-effacing smile. “I really am a terrible dancer, it was no lie.”

Aemond nodded grimly in understanding. “There is no need, my Lady, I understand your distaste for the match.” He stood taller, and tapped his eyepatch lightly.

Aemond watched ten emotions cross your face at once, until you settled on the one that most puzzled him; anger. Your eyebrows furrowed deliciously, something he noticed you did before you wielded your barbed tongue, and your lips parted. He did not see how your heart caught in your throat, nor the way your hands almost sprung to hold his shoulders. You slapped your palms onto the cold stone instead.

“Gods no. No, that is,” you breathed, warring with yourself before finally conceding. “It is not you, Aemond. Nor the sapphire eye that likely costs more than my entire dowry,” you jested half-heartedly.

You steeled yourself for honesty, looking into the sky once again and sneering in defiance at the gods who watched. “If I am to be sold off, I at least want to choose my buyer.”

Aemond’s gaze never left you, probing your truth as if he were caught in its net. He finally understood, and you knew he did. There was little that could be said, he thought.

Your eyes were almost crazed with a repressed frustration that was finally breaching the walls of your dutiful facade. A longing to be understood that matched his own. He saw fire – not that of ‘fire and blood’, but the fire of lightning. Beautiful, terrible, calculated in its strikes. Magnificent.

You trembled as if to cull the rage from erupting out of you. Years of playing placater, unable to unleash the true potential of your mind and spirit. Aemond’s eye flitted down to the stone, observing the shaking of your hands.

He did the only thing he knew how to and rested his hand gently over yours, the same way he would calm Vhagar. Real, he thought. Warm. Much too warm. You calmed under his touch. He understood, you know he did – years at court culling your own ambition at the expense of duty. Aemond created the “one-eyed brute”, just as you created the “little dolt of a lamb”.

You placed your hand over his. Horribly improper – it made you smile under the valleys of his scars and callouses. You wondered if you could map them in your mind as the maesters mapped the stars – a sky that was your own. Aemond felt your pulse thrum under his fingers and let it reverberate – his hands, his ears, his heart, his bones, it was all you. He knew you would have to leave soon enough, but for now, he would bask in you, knowing you’ve scorched him for life.

“Aemond,” You said, hushed. “How far can a dragon fly?” You looked up to meet his faraway gaze, relishing in catching him off guard. His lips were slightly parted as he stared at your own. It took every ounce of his steel restraint not to pull you to him and show you the meaning of fire and blood.

Instead, he hummed. “Vhagar has been known to make the trip from here to Dorne in a day, give or take - ”

He stilled at the interrupting shake of your head. If you had met his eyes, you would have noticed the questioning squint of his eye. Instead, your eyes were now trained above him, not wavering from the star-spittled sky.

“No,” you began, the gold of your necklace jingling as you craned your neck - as if the stars would be able to hear you better that way. “How high? Your maesters would not tell me.”

Aemond stared at you for a moment, finally following your gaze upwards with a slight smile. You asked the maesters. Of course you did. The thought of you badgering them in the palace library filled him with a disturbing level of fondness.

“Perhaps we could find out.”

Your head whipped towards him, eyes sparkling in the dark. “We?”

Aemond hummed again, this time in affirmation as he took your hand in silent question. “If I’m steering Vhagar, who will take note of the scientific observations? Maybe you are a dolt after all, my lady.” You squeezed his hand in your own, and your answering grin was like the sun. Magnificent.

#song prompts #my writing #aemond targaryen x reader #aemond x reader #aemond targaryen #aemond fics #hotd #hotd fics #unbowed unbeta'd unbroken #mine #magnificent

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triple-asstro · 1 year

Text

Midnight Rain

ao3

word count: 1.6k

tags: angst, hurt/no comfort, tooth-rotting fluff, re2 leon being baby

song: exile - taylor swift feat. bon iver

tag-list: @zombiiiiiiiiii (thank you for beta-reading this, your comments fuel me) @evilkennedy

based on that lethan angst image from @crumb-crumblet-s-crumbington

Rainy landscapes were your guilty pleasure. That and numerous other things, but the rainy scenery was something special. What's not there to love? The neutral colouring of the sky, the scent of fresh rain, the appearance of watered foliage and plants; it was like a painting brought to life. Rain meant comfort to you. People who complain about foggy days truly boggle you. Yes, the baby blue skies are indeed pretty, but the sun’s bright shine is too much to handle.

This is what the outside of your train window looked like, and your eyes were completely fixated on it. They darted back and forth, observing every single object you could, making small notes in your head. The train rocked back and forth, bobbing your head up and stirring a nauseous feeling in your stomach. It was customary.

"How's the scenery?" Leon asked, tilting his head and watched as you tilted your head first, then your eyes towards him.

"Hm? Oh, yeah. Isn't it beautiful?"

"It is," he responded. He wasn't looking towards the window. You knew that for a fact. Stoic and cheesy Leon, that's how you knew him. You knew his little quirks, how he checks his watch at 4 minute intervals and how he always picks the skin off of his left thumb, no where else.

"You're picking again," you reminded him, his face contorting into a mix of defeat and mischievousness. "How does it feel? One more trip before heading to the big city?"

"Really nervous..." he mumbled. "I'm an actual cop."

"I know, I'm proud of you. Hopefully, you won't be like those bastard cops. I'm excluding you from ACAB."

"Hey, don't be mean now, I haven't even started!"

"But, you're still a cop. My cop." you emphasised, watching as his eyes and blush grew. His smooth cheeks crinkled into a smile, which only made your heart soften more. You poked your foot into Leon's which made his smile shift into a cheekier one. One full of mischief and playfulness.

He got up from his seat, careful wobbling across the moving train and plopped next to you, laying his head on your lap. You chuckled at his antics, fluffing his hair to which he let out a hearty chuckle.

"Don't mess it up!"

"You're the one who placed your head on my lap!"

"What am I supposed to do?"

"...Fair enough," you said, a similar grin appearing on your face, making him worried. "Since you want to act so mischievous, you brought this upon yourself."

You bent down and rapidly peppered kisses on his forehead, his nose, his lips, his cheeks; everywhere! Your chequered newsboy hat was practically falling off of your head, as you felt Leon giggle underneath your touch.

"Pft... Okay- okay! Truce, truce!" he yelped as you pulled away, readjusting your cap with a smug grin on your face.

"Promise me, I have more saved for you when we get to the city, pretty boy."

So much had gone wrong in so little time. If you could tell yourself that Raccoon City was quite different than you boasted about a few hours ago, and that in fact, you should've taken that train back to the small town you came from. Take Leon away from this. You would've turned that train as far away as you could. Your fear is accentuated by your sudden separation: you’re in an abandoned grocery store and Leon god knows where.

Two hours. That's all it took for the entire city to go to hell. All it took for its inhabitants to turn into ravenous creatures, biting anything and anyone it came across. Including you.

The bite mark was deep, enough to puncture blood. A zombie that you thought was dead for good, if only you checked more thoroughly, more carefully, this wouldn't have happened. You had someone to get home to, someone to return alive to; it wasn't like you were alone where you could self-sacrifice yourself and it would be suffocated by the numerous other deaths, too deep to leave an everlasting scar.

You silently cursed to yourself, pressing your back against the grocery store’s shelves. The silent hum of the freezer accompanied you in your potential final moments. Hell, you didn’t know how exactly this thing worked. All you knew was that it was terrifying to think about. While your hand was searching underneath the aisles for anything to distract you really, you spotted a crumpled receipt. It was short, and surprisingly clean. Then, an idea popped in your head. You took your finger and swiped some of the blood oozing from your wound, applying it to your lips like some demented version of lipstick.

Then, you began peppering soft kisses on the paper, pressing for long enough to leave a marking. You did this for a few minutes before you felt a hollow ache echo from your stomach. You glanced at the chips left in your aisle, but your stomach said no. Is the infection taking over? Is this truly it? Where were you gonna go? Of course, your body would still remain to be gunned down by a survivor, but what about you? The part of you that people call a conscience or a soul? Would it remain or dissipate to heaven, or maybe you’d be left in the everlasting darkness people call death. Who knew? No one, but you.

Quickly whipping your pen out, the ache only growing from your stomach, you outlined the kiss marks before scribbling down whatever last message you had for the world. Stuffing the note in your pocket, you felt a violent thrash echo through you. The thrashing only continued as your voice turned into a harsh snarl. Anytime you tried to talk or even vocalise, it only came out as a gargle. Your heart and lungs felt stagnant, no beating or movement within them. Your brain was foggy, any and all previous thoughts were long gone, left to starve and fade into obscurity. Then, and only then, did you hear a thunderous crash.

“Shit!” Leon whispered, inching away from the water bottle he knocked down. He held his breath as he heard an infected rush towards the sound, its snarls and incoherent growls sent shivers down his spine. No matter how many infected he came across, the fear never quite disappeared. He hated this, more than anything in the world.

He leaned his ear out, hearing for any noises before crawling to the neighbouring aisle. Most of the fluorescent lights were out, only leaving the lights from the freezer to light Leon’s way. The noises came back, this time near the end of the next aisle. It shouldn’t be hard to take this one out, he’d been taking them out since he reached this city. In. Out. Breathing quickly reset inside Leon, who felt his heart had just been whirled around in a wind turbine.

In one fluid movement, he rushed into the aisle, holding his gun up towards the infected. As it turned however, his previous focused expression shifted into shock. His grip quivered the weapon, pointed towards you. You, if you could even call yourself that, convulsed, head quipping behind you, seeing Leon’s ever wider eyes. They were filled with heartbreak and delusion. You could see him mumbling to himself, praying that it wasn’t true. That this was just a delusional dream, that he probably drifted off in your lap with your newsboy cap resting on his head, closing out all light. That you would wake him up and the familiar scent of wood and coal would fill his nose instead of blood and guts.

Your cap fell from your head, landing on the ground with a soft thud. The last bit of you was holding back, trying to tempt your urges to jump and bite him until he was nothing more than a bloody corpse. Your grip stinged your hands, your strength fading with your mouth contorting into a frown. You wanted to cry, you did. But, no matter how hard you tried, no tears formed. It was the kind of sadness you couldn’t express with tears, couldn’t express with words, only through a sad sincere smile. And with that, your grip loosened involuntarily and you were lost.

“Le…Le..” it said. The infected charged at Leon, thrashing its arms. With hesitation, he fired three rounds into it before dodging to the left. It crashed into the freezer, glass embedding its throat before it jolted up and chased him again. This time, Leon fired multiple shots into the throat and with hesitation, one in the head, stopping it in its tracks. Its body slumped down into the next aisle, lying with its face askew.

“What?” Leon muttered as he approached your body. It was cold, limp, everything you weren’t. No, this thing wasn’t you. It just looked like you. It didn’t have your voice, it didn’t have your scent, it didn’t have your quirks; it was not you. So why did he still feel melancholy?

“Hey, hey!” he exclaimed, rushing towards it and clutching its body in his arms. “Baby, please don’t do this. Can you hear me? Please, god, just talk to me again. Talk to me. Let me hear you.”

All that came was silence. All he wanted was just to hear your voice again. Hear all the sweet things it had to tell him. Unfortunately, he wasn’t holding you. He was holding a shell of you. As he let his tears surround his eyelids, he noticed a small paper sticking out of your coat pocket. Curious, he pulled it out and opened it. Inside, it was embellished with maroon lip markings, outlined with a black pen. These were your lips, along with the message:

Leon,

Here’s your promise. Keep the cap, it suits you, pretty boy.

The sun shone brighter than ever that day.

#leon kennedy x reader #leon kennedy #re2make #re2 leon #re2 x reader #angst

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tightjeansjavi · 1 year

Text

Burning in a Hopeless Dream

Boston QZ: Part 13

“I can’t breathe”

Joel Miller x f!o/c

A/N: I couldn’t pick just one gif for this chapter 🫠 sorry, not sorry. Also, I support Joel Millers rights, and his wrongs.

Summary: 20 years have passed since out-break day. Joel hasn’t heard from his younger brother Tommy in 3 weeks. He’s terrified of the thought of losing the last member of his family. You’re afraid that you’re losing him entirely.

~word count: 5.8k~

Warnings: implied age gap, established relationship, so much fucking angst I’m so sorry. Swearing, mean! joel, protective! joel, dark! joel, possessive, joel!, violent actions have violent consequences! joel, fluff (if you squint and use a damn magnifying glass) gaslighting, arguing, brief mentions of death, graphic violence with a knife, feelings, emotions, anger, rage, (+18) minors dni !

Songs for this chapter:

“i can’t breathe” by Bea Miller

“Poison & Wine” by The Civil Wars

“exile” by T-Swift & Bon Iver

“As It Was” by Hozier

“Rage” by Samantha Margret

“I’m a Mess” by Ed Sheeran

“Feels Like We Only Go Backwards” by Tame Impala

“How to disappear” by Lana Del Ray

“Arms Of A Stranger” by Niall Horan

“Till Forever Falls Apart” by Ashe, FINNEAS

Year 2023. 20 years after out-break day : Boston QZ

Joel Miller always struggled dealing with loss of any kind. It started with losing Sarah. The grief, anger, anguish he felt in the last moments he had with her while she faded in his arms. He didn’t want to go on after that. What the fuck was the point when the world had fucking ripped his baby girl from his arms. He struggled with the possibility of losing you. Seeing you nearly bleed out on the kitchen table, his hands stained with your blood. It was too fucking much. If you would have died that night, surely he would meet his end shortly after. He knew the feeling all too well.

For the past two years, shit had been pretty sweet. Almost, too sweet. You refused to let yourself get caught up in the possibility of things going south with Joel. You wanted to live in every fucking moment you had with him. Carefree, happy, in love. You knew deep down that this wouldn’t last. You would have been naive if you believed nothing would ever come between you and Joel. The fucked up world you lived in, and the horrors that existed within, would always be there. Haunting you.

You trusted Joel with your life. He had given no reason for you to not put your full devotion into him. In more ways than one, you had saved each other. That trust mattered so fucking much to you. You were loyal to a fault. It was your fatal flaw.

Joel had been contacting his brother frequently. Tommy was the last of Joel’s blood and he would be damned if he would end up losing him too. Joel didn’t like when he felt like he had no control over a situation. It drove him up a fucking wall, devoured him skin and flesh till only his brittle bones were left. The fear of losing those he loved deeply, was constantly on his mind.

Joel had not heard from Tommy in three weeks. Three fucking weeks. He went and checked with the radio guy everyday. It was the same response of “we’re talking to the tower everyday. Nothing from Tommy.” This was not good enough for Joel. He needed to know that his younger brother was safe, that he was alive and well. Why the fuck wasn’t he responding? His mind instantly went to the worst possible outcome; Tommy being dead. It’s all he could think about.

Today with him he brought freshly rolled cigarettes, carefully tucked away in his coat pocket. He wanted answers, and he intended to get them, one way or another. He wasted no time to cut the line of other QZ residents waiting to send their message out. He didn’t care. He found himself with his elbow leaning over a rusted metal shelf. His patience was growing thin as he stood there, looming. He had a habit of playing with his fingers, picking at the dry skin around his cuticles, till they would crack and bleed. You had taken notice that he was doing this frequently now.

When it was finally his turn, he wasted no time to walk over. Plopping down into the chair with a thud as he reached into his jacket pocket and slid over the rolled cigarettes, his elbow resting along the worn wood.

“Nothin? Is there any chance it’s comin’in at night? You’re sleepin, you miss it?” Joel asked.

“When I’m sleeping, Gabriela listens, or my son.” The man spoke as he lit the cigarette, tossing the lighter to the side as he took a short inhale. The tip of the cigarette burning bright orange. “If Tommy responded, we’d know.”

Joel didn’t like the answers he was receiving. Not one fuckin bit. There had to be more information, there just had to be.

“And you’re talkin’ to the tower?”

“Every day, Joel.”

Bullshit is what he thought.

“They gave him your message, they haven’t seen or heard from him since, and that’s it.”

Lies.

“It’s been three fuckin weeks. It’s never taken Tommy more than a day to respond. Do you get that? Cause i’m startin’ to think that you ain’t seein’ the problem here.”

The man sighed, leaning forward as he held the cigarette off to the side, the smoke billowing upwards. “Joel, I'm sure Tommy is alright.”

“Show me where the tower is.”

“Joel, you can’t be serious. The tower is in Wyoming. You’re a capable guy, but there are worse things than infected out there.”

“You think I don’t fuckin realize that?” He scoffed. Crossing his arms over his chest, his jaw clenching tightly as he ground his teeth together.

“There are raiders, there’s slavers…” He trailed off.

“But you’re “sure” Tommy’s okay? Joel asked, his brow raised.

“It’s, uh, it’s the Cody tower…Q-bar 4, but I don’t know exactly–”

Joel was already up from his chair and leaving. He got the information he needed, now to devise a plan, leave the QZ, and find Tommy.

___________

Joel had no plan. No fuckin clue how he was going to get to Wyoming, but he would be damned if he didnt try. He was well aware that he wasn’t spending a lot of time with you these days. You both were working shit FEDRA jobs. Different hours, and by the time either of you would make it home, you both were too exhausted to speak.

You had known for the past few weeks that something was up with Joel. You didn’t want to pry, or make him feel like he had to tell you what was bothering him. You wanted him to come to you, tell you himself exactly what was going on. You couldn’t deny the fact that not knowing what was going on, was hurting you. It felt like he was purposely pushing you away. You didn't want to assume the worst of your lover, but it was hard not to when he was stumbling in hours past curfew, piss drunk. He would sleep with his back facing you. You wondered if this was exactly the way Tess had felt when she realized she was losing him.

You were barely sleeping most nights. Always waiting up for him, waiting for his return. You’d pretend to be asleep when the bed would dip down from his weight on it. You’d secretly pray that he’d wrap you up in his warm, strong arms finally. The moment never came and you felt so cold, so empty. You bottled it up, allowing it to devour you from the inside out.

One particular night, Joel had come stumbling in, a bottle of half drank whiskey in his grasp. He was high off something. Whatever pills he could get on. Pills that he had smuggled in for ration cards. He didn’t give a damn about his next meal. He just wanted to numb his feelings. Bury them so fuckin deep, that you, his sunlight, would never be able to reach them.

You could hear the sound of his keys clanking on the kitchen table. The front door locking shut. Then, his footsteps. His boots were heavy on the creaky floorboards. You heard his approach just outside the bedroom door, could hear his mumbling as he pushed it open, revealing your curled up form under the covers. The moonlight from the window casting a soft glow against your face. You looked beautiful, you always did.

You could hear his staggered, heavy steps. The bed dipped down beside you as he slowly sank down, the bottle of whiskey held between his knees as he leaned over and whispered, “you awake?”

You let out a sigh as you rolled over so you were facing him. Your eyes slowly fluttered open as you watched him bring the rim of the bottle to his lips, taking a long swig. “Am now.”

He was reaching for you immediately, tugging the covers that enclosed you from him.

“I need you baby, my sweet girl. Please, please, please.”

“Need to feel you.”

“Need to feel your skin on mine.”

“Please.”

“Please, baby. I’ll make you feel so fuckin good. I got you, you got me, Remember?”

He sounded half broken, teetering on the edge from the whiskey on his tongue, and the impending thoughts of losing the only person left in his blood family.

You sat up, grasping the covers between your fingers as he tried to tug them from your grasp.

“Joel, what’s wrong? What happened?” You spoke on the edge of caution given his intoxicated state.

“No. don’t wanna talk. Don’t wanna feel anythin ‘cept you.”

“Joel, you’re drunk and clearly upset over something–”

He cut you off. “M’sober enough to know that the only thing I want right now, is you. You gonna deny me that, sweet girl?” He slurred.

You found yourself at a loss for words. Your eyes focused on the bottle clutched his grasp, his knuckles turning white from the tight hold he had on the bottle. For a moment, you were afraid that it would shatter in his palm. He looked at you, his dark brown eyes glazed over, emotion swirling behind his darkened pupils. He brought the rim of the bottle up to his lips, taking another long swig as he stared through you. The look he gave you sent an un-welcomed chill down your spine.

You reached for the bottle, not wanting him to use liquor to cope with whatever it was that he was actively going through. You brought your hand around his wrist as you gently pried his fingers from the tight grasp they had on the bottle. He didn’t move to stop you as you took the bottle from him, placing it down on the nightstand, next to your knife, and far from his reach. You had kept the flower crown that you made him 2 years ago. The flowers were wilted and dried, but the memory remained. Alongside was the polaroid photo of you and Joel in the field of wildflowers. Now, just another distant memory.

“Enough of that, okay? I know the liquor is good. I know it helps, I know it brings you comfort, but you’re not gonna sit here and hide from me, okay? Please, Joel. Tell me what’s going on. Let me help you, please.”

“S’okay. Can just get another bottle. M’not gonna fight you. Love you too much to do somethin like that. Would be hurtin myself in the process, more than I already have.”

You were reaching for his face, gently sliding your warm palms around his cheeks. Your thumbs were lightly stroking the highest points of his cheek bones. He averted his eyes from your gaze then. He didn’t want you to see him like this. Anger started to simmer, bubble, blister in the pit of his stomach. You shouldn’t be taking care of him like this. He should be taking care of you. He was supposed to be the strong one, the tough one, the protector. Especially now. He didn't believe that he deserved your comfort, not now. Not when he was like this, a shell of a man.

“You don’t want me like this, honey? You don’t want me anymore?” He spoke with a low drawl, his words slurring together.

“Joel, don’t start with that. You damn well know that’s not true.”

“Then why can’t you give me what I want? I ain’t askin’ for much. Why can’t you give that to me? Why won’t you let me? You’re breakin’ my fuckin’ heart baby.”

“You’re drunk, Joel. I can fuckin taste the whiskey on your breath from here. I’m not gonna take advantage of you when you're in this state. Do you hear me? You deserve so much fuckin more than that.” You tried to coax him to look at you, dragging your fingers against his jaw, but he wouldn’t budge.

He scoffed under his breath, fighting the urge to roll his eyes. “Since when has a little liquor stopped us, huh? Sweet girl, just tell me that you don’t want me anymore. S’okay, I can take it. I can handle it. Gotta leave this shit hole soon anyway.” He admitted.

“Those times were different Joel, and you know it.” You continued to gently hold his face, hoping that somehow you could get through to him. “Please stop saying that I don’t want you. That’s fuckin bull, and if you’re gonna act like a fuckin asshole right now–What’re you talking about leaving?”

“Tommy. I haven’t heard from Tommy in three fuckin weeks. He could be dead for all I know. He could be fuckin’ dead, and I ain’t gonna sit here and not do somethin’ about it. I found out that the radio tower is in Wyoming. I’m gonna trade some shit for a car battery, find a truck outside the QZ, and I'm gonna go find him.”

You let out a deep, slow sigh when Joel finally told you the reason why he was piss drunk and acting this way. Maybe you hadn’t lost him after all. Maybe, just maybe.

“You’re not going alone Joel. You’re not going to Wyoming by your fucking self. Don’t think for a second that i’m going to let you go on a suicide mission like that.”

Joel couldn’t help but let out a chuckle, his head dropping between your hands for a moment before he lifted it slightly to look up at you. “It ain’t your fuckin choice to make ‘darlin.” You’re not gonna stop me, and I ain’t leavin’ my fuckin’ brother out there Gwen. You just don’t fuckin get it, do you?” His tone was harsh, jagged and laced with venom. He placed his hands over your small ones and ripped them from his face as he staggered up from the bedside.

“I never said I was going to stop you Joel. All I said was that you’re not fucking going alone. The fuck do you mean I don’t get it? What don’t I understand?” Your heart clenched in on itself from how he was speaking to you. You felt like a cornered animal, fearful of what was to come next. Teeth bared, snarling, with fear stricken eyes.

“You ain’t have any family left to understand.” He knew he struck a nerve with you just by the way your face immediately fell. You were visibly taken aback. His words sliced through you, cutting your heart up into tiny pieces, piercing your lungs.

“Fuck you. How fucking dare you–” You paused with your hands balling up in fists at your sides. “I may not have any fucking family left Joel, but that doesn’t mean that you get to stand there and tell me that I don’t understand what you’re going through.”

His jaw clenched harshly through the soft, casting moonlight. His own hands were at his sides, balled up in fists. All he wanted was your comfort. He nearly begged for it, but you wouldn’t give in. Why wouldn’t you give in? Let him bury his feelings away, deep between your legs. Your denial etched deep into him, reaching the cavern of his heart. He’d never force you, never would dare harm you.

He never learned how to handle loss well. He found it so easy to slip back into his old patterns. They welcomed him in with tender touches, warm whispers, as darkness enclosed around his heart.

His boots were heavy on the creaky floorboards as he took a few steps towards you. He didn’t speak, and he refused to meet your eyes as he reached around you, snatching the bottle back up from the nightstand. For a brief moment, he thought about giving in. Apologizing for being so mean, so cruel. Allow himself to crumple in your lap, and soak his heavy tears against your chest.

He didn’t want that. He wanted to suffer through his feelings, alone.

“Joel..” Your voice was hesitant, timid, nervous. There were tears already threatening to spill over as you struggled to hold them at bay.

He didn’t say a word. Even as your hand reached out for his wrist, eyes pleading with him. He didn’t give in. He was already walking back to the open doorway, bringing the bottle up to his lips as he took another painful swig.

“Why are you doing this? Baby, why won’t you let me help you? Please…you don’t have to go through this alone. I got you, you got me, always. Remember?”

“M’sleepin on the couch.” He finally responded. “Want to be alone, and if you know what’s good for you, you won’t follow me.”

“Joel…”

“You fuckin deaf or somethin ‘darlin?” I said, leave.me.alone.”

Your emotions boiled over, tears blurring your vision as you reached for your knife on the nightstand. Gripping the familiar handle in your grasp. in one swift movement, you threw your knife at the door, purposely missing his head. The blade embedded into the worn, paint peeled door. The edge of the blade just barely grazed his ear, drawing blood from the thin skin. You had warm tears streaming down your cheekbones, your breaths heavy as Joel looked at you, stunned.

He reached his hand up, brushing his finger tip against his ear, feeling a cool wetness. He brought his finger down, observing the droplets of maroon against his skin. He chuckled, amusement in his tone.

“You missed.”

He yanked your knife from the door.

“It was on purpose Joel. You damn well know how good my aim is.”

He hummed lightly as he twirled the knife with ease. “You picture stickin’ me between the eyes when you threw it?”

“No. I imagined it nailing you in the fucking heart, you asshole.”

“Ouch. That really hurts, sweet girl.” He twirled it once more, looking at your broken, beautiful face. His presence was no longer looming in the doorway. He was gone.

You did not see Joel Miller for the next 4 days. You counted every single fucking one of them.

You waited up for him each night, praying he would come home, he didn’t. Night four you were worried something had happened to him. Your spiraling mind immediately goes to the worst possible outcome; Joel, dead in a ditch somewhere. Second outcome, he found someone else. Someone that wasn’t you. No. There was no fucking way he found someone. He would never. You kept telling yourself that neither outcome was true. It was hours past curfew, the streets were quiet as you packed your bag. Grabbing your spare knife, and pistol. You were wearing one of his flannels as you headed out into the darkness of night to find him.

________________

*one day prior*

Joel was pissed. (surprise, surprise). He was furious with himself, and you. Mostly himself, for being a goddamn fucking asshole. It was easy to continue to drink the pain away, numb all his feelings. Maybe he could consume so much fucking liquor, he could forget what your face looked like.

That was a laughable thought to have. You were unforgettable. Mother fucker, were you so goddamn unforgettable. The worst part? He was reminded of how cruel he was to you each time he looked down at your stupid fucking knife. The handle was well worn, but when he saw your initials carved into the thick wood, he lost it. Fuck you. Fuck you. Fuck you.

He needed something, someone, to let his anger explode out on.

All it took was two QZ residents to look at him the wrong way. Long enough that he didn’t even think of the consequences of his actions. Fuck the consequences. Fuck FEDRA, fuck the Firefly’s, fuck the infected, and fuck this world.

He followed the two suckers down an alley, hearing them laughing about god knows what. He recognized them. One of the fuckers had given Tess and Bea dirty looks for holding hands in the community center. The other? Had the hots for you. Unashamedly would check you out while you were working alongside Joel. Two excuses for human beings is all he saw as he crept down the alley. His footsteps were light, quiet, unheard.

He had only meant to teach them a lesson. Rough ‘em up a bit. Cuts, bruises, black eye maybe a broken wrist, or two. Then he heard the one guy say your name. Joel Miller was seeing red. These fuckers didn’t stand a chance. Your knife in his grasp as he spilled the filth of their crimson blood along the concrete.

It was a reckless decision, spur of the moment, and fueled by his rage. He would pay the brutal consequences of his actions, shortly after.

The tip of his knife was dripping with the congealed blood of his victims. His breaths, heavy and jagged as he came to his senses.

Too late.

“Fuck.”

Shouting, FEDRA soldiers, the wind whipping in his ears as he ran.

Had he left the crime scene quicker, he probably would have escaped. Not only was he out past curfew, but he had just brutally murdered two QZ residents. Whoops.

It didn’t take long for the FEDRA fucks to catch him, rough him up, and throw him in lockup. His life was spared simply for the fact that he had two of the soldiers wrapped around his finger, all because of a packet of pills.

The amount of liquor in his system numbed his pain receptors. He couldn’t feel shit as he was thrown into a cell.

___________

*present time*

You were incredibly cautious as you headed out onto the dark streets. You knew your decision to go looking for Joel past curfew, was a reckless one. Did you care? Not one fucking bit.

You flattened your back against a crumbling brick wall as two FEDRA soldiers passed, talking amongst each other.

“You know he doesn’t deserve to live, right? You saw what he did, man. There was so much fuckin blood.”

“He’ll get what’s coming for him eventually. If we kill him, who the hell is gonna keep getting us high?”

“Fair point.”

You were silent as their footsteps sounded further and further away. You knew they were talking about Joel; your Joel. You let out a soft breath as you crept from your hiding place. Joel had killed two people; fact. Joel was also alive, and that’s all you could think about now.

You knew exactly where Joel would be. So you waited outside the building, silently devising a plan for how you were going to bust him out of there, before FEDRA could change their mind.

Your silent thoughts were interrupted when you heard a heavy metal door creak open, the sound of a grunt, followed by a thud of a body hitting the concrete. You knew right away that it was Joel.

He was pulling himself up from the concrete, staggering to his feet and by his posture alone, you could tell he was in pain. “Motherfucker.” He grunted to himself.

You made your presence known as you appeared from behind the wall. He didn’t see you at first, but when he heard stray rocks crunching beneath boots, he was on high alert.

“Joel.”

He whipped around, nearly giving himself whiplash from the fast movement. Your voice was all too distinguishable.

“What in god’s fucking name are you doin’ out here?!” He was already walking towards you, his eyes locked on yours.

“Are you fuckin’ insane ‘darlin? Or are you just fuckin’ stupid?” He continued, waiting for you to flinch from his tone, or take a step back. You did neither.

“You tryin’ to get your ass thrown in lockup too?! Fuckin’ answer me Gwen!”

He was close enough now that you could see his split upper lip, ugly purple and blue bruising along his beautiful jaw, and his black eye. In a fury, you had grabbed his face in your palms gently, searching his eyes.

“Who the fuck did this to you?”

He was taken aback by your gentle touch, he expected you to be rough on him from the way he treated you, but you were the complete fucking opposite.

“Who fucking did this to you Joel?!” You harshly whispered.

He chuckled as he looked into your eyes, “FEDRA. Got thrown in lockup, obviously. Now answer me. What the fuck are you–”

You cut him off, ignoring his question. You knew the answer as to why he was thrown in lockup. You wanted to hear it from his own mouth, in his words.

“What the fuck did you do to get thrown in lockup?” You demanded.

He sneered at you. His face hurt from the movement but he didn’t care.

“Wouldn’t you like to know ‘darlin.”

You let go of his face and grabbed him by the collar of his shirt, harshly yanking it.

“Yeah, cowboy. I would fuckin like to know.”

He leaned in, his breath hot on your face as he spoke, “killed a couple of fuckers with your knife. Felt fuckin good. Thought of you as their blood spilled out on the fuckin’ concrete. Thought of you the whole time baby.” He spat.

You didn’t even skip a fucking beat from his confession. You already knew the truth after all, and there was no reason for you to be shocked.

“Yeah? You thought of me? Did they deserve it?”

“Didn’t like the way they were lookin’ at me. Wanted to teach ‘em a lesson, and I got carried away. One of ‘em gave Beatrix a dirty look for holdin’ Tess’s hand a while back. The other? He had the hots for you. Always lookin’ at you, checkin’ you out. They both deserved it.”

“Y’know you can’t just go and kill people cause they looked at you the wrong way Joel.”

“I know, but I'd be lyin’ to your face if I told ya it didn’t feel good. They were scumbags, and they had it ‘comin.”

“Did you really have to go and kill them with my knife though?” You asked, your hands were still gripping the collar of his shirt tightly.

“Considerin’ you threw it at my fuckin’ head, yeah. Felt poetic.”

You let out a sigh, loosening your grip on him slightly, your anger was still simmering.

“You gonna’ answer my question now? Gonna’ tell me why in the hell you’re out here past fuckin’ curfew nonetheless?”

“You haven’t come home in 4 fuckin days Joel. I was worried that something had happened. That you were fucking dead in a goddamn ditch somewhere. I’m perfectly aware of the consequences of being out past curfew, Joel. I don’t care about the consequences. I just had to make sure that you were okay.”

He was in disbelief. His brows were furrowed in as you explained yourself.

“What’re you doin’ givin’ a fuck about me after the way I treated you, sweet girl. What is fuckin’ wrong with you? You shoulda’ been wishin’, prayin’ that I was dead.”

You laughed, your voice cracking slightly because how could this man be so fucking stupid?

“What makes you think that I wouldn’t care? You think that I can just erase you that easily, Joel? You think for a second that I wouldn’t fucking come looking for you?”

He opened his mouth to speak, no words were formed, he looked like a fucking blubbering fish.

“Save it. I don’t want to hear you say some bullshit about how I deserve better. I’m too good for you, blah blah blah. Fucking swallow those words right now Joel.”

He clenched his jaw, grinding his teeth together.

“Yes ma'am.” He whispered.

You wasted no time grabbing his hand, taking him back home, despite his protests.

The shower started shortly after you arrived home. Your movements were slow, gentle, careful as you removed his shirt from the hem. You found new scars blooming on his beautiful skin. Despite the fact that you were emotionally hurt by this man, you refused to let him suffer alone. You pressed a light kiss to his soft tummy, just above the navel.

“Baby Doll, what’re you–”

“Shuddup Joel.”

You tossed his shirt to the side before you undid his belt buckle, listening to the clanking of metal as you carefully shimmied his jeans down his legs with his boxers. You kept your gaze locked on his eyes as you discarded his clothes. You ignored the feeling of his hands along your waist, his own touch was delicate, comforting. You pushed his hands off of you as you gestured to the shower.

“Get in.”

“Gwen, please–”

“Get in the fucking shower Joel.”

He let out a pained sigh, bringing his hands down to his sides as he stepped under the cold stream of water. It felt like knives and needles stabbing into his back all at once.

You were already turning on your heel, attempting to leave till his hand reached out, wrapping around your wrist as he pulled you under the stream with him.

“Joel what the fuck are you doing–”

“Please. Please, darlin’ don’t go. Please, I'm sorry.” He begged, his tone rasping.

Your clothes were already being soaked through as he pulled you into his chest, holding you firmly against him.

“Please don’t leave me.”

You let out a sigh, slowly turning around in his arms so you were facing him.

“Apologies are not going to fix this Joel.”

“I know honey, I know. I promise I will make it up to you.”

You didn’t respond. Instead, you reached around him and grabbed what was left of the bar of soap. You gently wiped away the dirt, dried blood, and filth from his skin. You let him hold you, but you refused to fully give in. He was smart enough, respectful enough, to not try anything funny.

_________________

The nightmares started shortly after you brought Joel back home. Each night they got worse and it killed you inside to see him suffer like this. You were torn up. Joel had hurt you, you hurt him and it was beginning to feel like a vicious, endless cycle.

On this particular night, it was storming. The wind howled as the heavy rain pelted against the windows. Flashes of bright, white lighting struck against the black sky, and rumbles of thunder followed shortly after. You could hear Joel mumbling in his sleep, his back facing you. He mumbled Sarah’s name, Tommy. His tone was strained, pained. “You’re okay. Please, you’re okay. Move your hand, baby.” “Tommy, help me!” He was twitching under the covers, his body was trembling, there was cold sweat dripping down his bare back, chest, and forehead.

You wanted to pretend that you couldn’t hear his mumbles, his pained cries for his dead daughter and assumably alive brother. You squeezed your eyes shut, trying to block him out entirely, but you couldn’t. No matter how hard you tried, you couldn’t stop caring about this man.

You rolled over so you were facing his back and placed your hand between his shoulder blades. Your fingers splayed across his sweat soaked skin.

“Joel. Baby, wake up.” You whispered.

You received no response, even as you gently shook him.

“Joel. wake up, you’re having a nightmare. Wake up baby, it’s okay. I’m here. I’m here.”

You shook him once more, a little firmer this time and he suddenly shot up from under the covers. His eyes were wide, frantic as he looked around. His wild gaze finally landed on you. His chest was rising and falling harshly, his nostrils flared and he looked like he was in a daze.

“Joel. Hey, honey. It’s okay. You’re okay, you’re safe.”

He was reaching for you, wrapping his arms around your waist as he yanked you to his chest, pulling you into his lap.

Your thighs instinctively wrapped around his hips as you brought your hands up to his face, gently holding his cheeks in your warm palms, while his sweaty forehead rested against yours.

“Sarah..she–she. My baby girl–”

“I know baby..I'm sorry.” You gently stroked your thumbs against his cheekbones as his tears began to freely fall, his body still trembling under your gentle grasp.

“Tommy he–he.”

“He’s alive Joel. I promise you, he’s alive.”

“We don’t know. We–we don’t. He’s all I have left of my family. He’s the only one left.”

“I know he is Joel. I know, and I understand. You’re safe, and you don’t need to go through this alone. Okay? I know how you feel right now baby. I felt the same things you are feeling right now, after they died.”

He pulled back slightly, his brows furrowed in as he looked at you.

“Tell me how they died, please. I-I–want to know.”

“I had to kill them, Joel; My parents. It was just the three of us at one point. I was twenty. Came home one day, everything seemed normal. We were sitting around the dinner table and they were..something was off. They had this..this dead look in their eyes. They weren’t talking and then, I just knew. I fucking knew they were infected. I had no time to mourn Joel. They lunged at me and I took my knife, and killed them. Their only child, their only daughter, killed them. I left Michigan after that. Left the ranch, left my home, and never returned.”

Joel was at a loss for words. He could not even begin to fathom what you had gone through. He felt entirely guilty for saying that you couldn’t understand what he was going through. You knew his pain all too well. He held you as close as he physically could. His grip around your waist was firm, yet gentle. God, he felt terrible.

“Honey, baby, I'm so sorry..I’m so sorry that you had to go through that.”

“Joel, please do not feel sorry for me. Okay? I did what I had to do to survive. It was either me, or them. I was left with no other choice.”

“I don’t care, my sweet girl. You should have never had to go through that.”

“I endured it, Joel. I mourned, I moved on. Ran right into you. The point is, you shouldn’t feel alone. You don’t have to be, okay? Please don’t push me away. I know how easy it is to dig yourself into a hole, let the walls cave in. I know exactly what you’re feeling, and I am right here for you. I’m not going anywhere.”

“We have to do somethin’ I can’t just leave him out there Gwen.”

“I know. That’s why you and I are going to go look for Tommy, together. We’re gonna get that car battery, leave the QZ, and go to Wyoming. I’ll go anywhere with you. I got you, you got me, always.”

He took a deep breath, while he allowed your words, and the significance they held, wash over him.

He gave you a small nod, stroking his thumbs along the soft skin of your lower back.

“You got me, I got you, always.”

It was true, you’d follow Joel Miller, your fellow, your guy, anywhere.

Chapter 14:

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riveatstoes · 14 days

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Sanders Sides as Taylor Swift Songs

Because I want to merge my hyperfixation (SaSi) and my special interest (TS)

But first some clarifications:

Most of these are vibe-based, especially when it comes to Logan because I genuinely think that he is one of, if not THE, hardest characters to get right

If you have different opinions that’s fine, I like hearing what other people have to say! (as long as you remain respectful)

Yes 99% of Remus’s are ironic, get off my back abt it did you seriously expect anything else??? Yeah that’s what I thought

There is at least one album where I chose the same song for two characters but um. Mind your business

Yes I’m counting If This Was A Movie as a Fearless song. I’m going by what album’s cover it has on it tbh

For reference my favorite is Roman and I think that may be obvious. Idk

Taylor Swift (Debut)

Logan: The Outside

Roman: Stay Beautiful

Patton: Tied Together With A Smile

Virgil: A Place in This World

Janus: The Outside

Remus: Picture to Burn (Homophobic Version)

Fearless (Taylor’s Version)

Logan: Tell Me Why

Roman: Breathe (ft. Colbie Caillat)

Patton: If This Was A Movie

Virgil: You All Over Me (ft. Marren Morris)

Janus: Don’t You

Remus: Thug Story (ft. T-Pain)

Speak Now (Taylor’s Version)

Logan: Castles Crumbling (ft. Hayley Williams)

Roman: Back To December

Patton: Never Grow Up

Virgil: Haunted

Janus: Better Than Revenge / Innocent

Remus: BTR (Slut-Shaming Version)

Red (Taylor’s Version)

Logan: Nothing New (ft. Phoebe Bridgers)

Roman: Red

Patton: Sad Beautiful Tragic

Virgil: I Almost Do

Janus: I Bet You Think About Me (ft. Chris Stapleton)

Remus: I Knew You Were Trouble (Screaming Goat Version)

1989 (Taylor’s Version)

Logan: Bad Blood (ft. Kendrick Lamar)

Roman: Wildest Dreams

Patton: Clean

Virgil: Out Of The Woods

Janus: Now That We Don’t Talk

Remus: Shake It Off

reputation

Logan: Look What You Made Me Do

Roman: Gorgeous

Patton: New Year’s Day

Virgil: Getaway Car

Janus: Don’t Blame Me

Remus: I Did Something Bad (Ratatatata)

Lover

Logan: I Forgot That You Existed

Roman: You Need To Calm Down / Afterglow

Patton: Cornelia Street

Virgil: The Archer

Janus: Death By A Thousand Cuts

Remus: ME! (ft. Brendon Urie of Panic! At The Disco)

folklore

Logan: this is me trying

Roman: mirrorball

Patton: cardigan

Virgil: peace

Janus: the lakes

Remus: exile (ft. bon iver)

evermore

Logan: closure

Roman: tolerate it

Patton: evermore (ft. bon iver)

Virgil: it’s time to go

Janus: cowboy like me

Remus: no body, no crime (ft. HAIM)

Midnights

Logan: Glitch

Roman: Maroon / Bejeweled

Patton: You’re On Your Own, Kid / Dear Reader

Virgil: Midnight Rain

Janus: Anti-Hero

Remus: Vigilante Shit (Live At The Eras Tour)

The Tortured Poets Department

Logan: I Look In People’s Windows

Roman: But Daddy I Love Him / Clara Bow

Patton: So Long, London / loml

Virgil: Who’s Afraid Of Little Old Me?

Janus: The Prophecy

Remus: Guilty As Sin? (But specifically that one video of Post Malone dancing to it)

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mikrokcsmos · 1 year

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Evermore

synopsis; in which you can no longer ignore all the signs of your husband’s affair.

pairing; husband!kim taehyung x wife!reader

genre; angst, marriage au

rating; PG-13

warnings; infidelity, not so much a warning but mentions of Yeontan to help keep you sane yw

w/c; 889

a/n; happy angsty reading! pls keep sending more if you enjoyed! <3 this is a repost from my old account.

song to listen to; evermore by taylor swift ft. bon iver

It was currently November, though it all started in July, or so you think. Least, that’s when you first started noticing the signs. Who knows exactly how long this whole affair has been going on.

Gray November, I’ve been down since July.

Your whole body felt heavy due to all the bottled up anger, sadness, and despair you kept inside, selfishly trying to keep yourself alive amongst all the chaos and denial you dealt with daily.

It was the night before the 4th of July, you recall. You were supposed to meet up at the movies to watch the third installment of your shared all time favorite franchise. A movie that you booked tickets for together months in advance. Only to be left in the dark room all alone, the only light illuminated from the projector. Glancing down at your phone that emitted a soft glow, you let out a quiet sigh of discontent not wanting to disturb fellow movie goers around you.

From Husband:

Sorry y/n, won’t be able to make it. This meeting is going on for way longer than expected. I’ll see you at home later, don’t wait up for me, okay? Save me some popcorn, though! Can’t wait to hear all about it! Love you.

That should’ve been your first red flag.

Motion capture, put me in a bad light.

Not that he left you to watch the movie alone, but yes, that sucked. He’s done it before, though. When you know for a fact he was caught up in a meeting, or so you hoped, thinking back on it now.

No. No, it was a detail that no one would’ve picked up on besides you, and in fact, most people would just scoff at and say you were over reacting. He was probably in a rush to send that text, they would say. He didn’t have time. Yeah, okay. Sure, whatever. But you knew.

Especially since you made a pact not too long after you started dating that you would use your pet names instead of your actual names when addressing each other. Or, not so much a pact, but more so just an unspoken rule you developed out of a daily habitual use of said pet names. He literally hasn’t called you by your name in years.

I replay my footsteps on each stepping stone, trying to find the one where I went wrong.

It was engraved in you since you were a little girl to be the ever doting, ever loyal, ever loving, ever faithful wife. Whenever you so chose to be one. Lord knows you were never in a rush. In fact, it wasn’t until you hit your 5 year anniversary that he got down on one knee and popped the question. Yet, you were still surprised when it happened. Still not expecting it for another 5 years later, at the very least. But, Kim Taehyung had other plans it seems. Ever the hopeless romantic, you should’ve known. Him always being the one to talk about your future together, hinting at a wedding and a big family with a little dog. At least you were able to cross off two of those, you thought bitterly. Contrary to the gentle pats you were currently giving to the Teacup Pom, Yeontan.

As the months progressed, he became less subtle. The lipstick stains on his collar of a color that didn’t exist in your make up collection, the waft of perfume you would smell as he kissed your cheek upon coming home that you knew wasn’t yours. And yet, you were still in denial. Not willing to risk losing him, your heart suffered instead.

Writing letters, addressed to the fire.

The only solace you had, being to write out your aggression of the day onto a piece of paper that would then meet the kiss of fire you would ignite nightly in your fireplace and burn, each time hoping and praying for it to cleanse your head and heart along with it.

It never worked. And you always cried silent tears of misery so as not to wake your peacefully sleeping husband curled up with the Teacup Pom in the next room over who came back from yet another late night out.

You never thought you would end up here. Being that wife that would become the gossip of other fellow wives. Becoming the ever pining wife that would stand alone in the dark at two o’clock in the morning looking out the window and waiting for your husband to come home. Craving his words and his touch. Knowing you weren’t currently getting either of those. She was. Whoever she is. You had no clue.

And I was catching my breath. Staring out an open window….

You stared longingly at your husband who just pulled up in the driveway. Yeontan running around your feet in excitement upon recognizing the sound of his human’s car. As he went to step out of the car, an article of clothing fell out, one he was quick to recover and throw in the backseat. More importantly one that was very obviously, not yours. Looking around to see if he had been caught, he locked eyes with you in the window. His widening in guilt, yours crying unrelentless tears as you stared emotionlessly, arms crossed over your chest where your heart just broke for the last and final time.

Catching my death.

#kim taehyung x reader #kim taehyung x you #taehyung x reader #taehyung x you #jungkook angst #taehyung angst #kim taehyung #bts kim taehyung #taehyung drabble #drabbles masterlist #masterlist; drabbles #masterlist; old account

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liightsout · 3 months

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the blue - part five

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✯ summary: mattie misses adam while he's gone, danny is there to make her feel better ✯

✯ pairing: daniel ricciardo x fem!oc ✯

✯ content warnings: none rlly - pure fluff ✯

✯ now playing: skinny love - bon iver ✯

✯ series masterlist ✯

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March 2021

Adam had been gone for about a week now. Pre-season testing had started in Bahrain on the 12th and he would be there until around 15th, coming home for a few days before heading back to the country on the 24th for the start of the first race weekend.

Mattie was used to Adam being gone for a lot of the year. Even when he was home it seemed that he was always busy with something at the MTC, or heading out to see all the friends he had made on his travels around the world.

She wasn’t a jealous person. But she did find herself envious of the amount of time everyone else got to spend with her best friend. They had grown up thick as thieves, constantly in one another’s pockets. She now had to settle for sporadic texting and FaceTime calls at strange hours.

He had sent her a message earlier in the day telling her how well everything was going, followed by a photo of him, Lando and some of the other guys out for dinner at a fancy restaurant. She hated that she immediately noticed the lack of Danny in the photo.

She hadn’t spoken to Danny since that night in the bar. Their evening had ended after a few more drinks, plenty of banter and as Adam had promised, she was home and tucked up in bed by 11PM.

The first couple days of Adam being gone had been relatively painless. As a freelance editor she had the luxury of picking how heavy or light she chose her workload to be. She had a habit of throwing herself into her work while Adam was gone. Taking on extra clients to help fill the time and pass the days until he came back home.

By the 7th day of Adam being gone she had felt the loneliness creeping in. It was moments like this that she had cursed herself for not being more social during her younger years. It wasn’t that she didn’t have other friends, she did, it was just that they all had their own lives. She felt that the only times they would reach out would be when they needed something from her or had seen Adam on the TV at one of the races.

It was a Wednesday evening and Mattie found herself half way through a bottle of wine, scrolling aimlessly through her Instagram feed. She smiled as she saw a photo posted by Lando. The young Brit praising how good the new car was for this season. She double tapped the photo and continued scrolling.

Her fingers stopped as she saw a post from Daniel. It wasn’t even a photo of him. Just the same as Lando had, he’d posted a photo of the car. But why did she feel like her heart was beating out of her chest? She shook her head and double tapped the photo.

It was only a minute later that she saw the notification appear on her screen.

danielricciardo sent you a message

Mattie stared at her phone screen. She felt like a teenager again. She could feel her heartbeat racing and palms growing sweaty. This stupid crush was not going away any time soon, she feared.

danielricciardo: hello stranger, i see you’re creeping on my instagram again!

Mattie huffed out a laugh. Of course he would say that.

mattieryan: ha ha you’re funny! i wasn’t creeping. i just came across the post on my feed. don’t flatter yourself so much, your head will grow too big!

She hoped he didn’t mind her jibe. She didn’t want him to think she was being rude. She hated that she over thought her every action when it came to Danny. Her worries stopped when her phone vibrated, indicating he had replied almost immediately.

danielricciardo: you wound me mattie girl! but you might have a point there

danielricciardo: anyway, how are you?

Her mind went back to that night in the bar. Danny being so adamant that she knew that he considered them to be friends. This is what friends did; chat, ask each other how they are. This was normal. She could be friends with Daniel Ricciardo.

mattieryan: yeah i’m alright thanks! currently on the sofa, drinking wine and deciding what to watch on netflix. how are you? testing going ok?

danielricciardo: cute! yeah not too bad, still getting to grips with the car a bit, but we’ll get there! i’m just in the hotel now, also deciding what to watch on netflix. any ideas?

mattieryan: you’ll get there, i’m sure of it :) as for what to watch, i’m settling on the office, it’s my comfort show lol

danielricciardo: great choice! what episode are we watching?

mattieryan: i’m on season 5, episode 27, cafe disco! it’s one of my favs.

danielricciardo: i’ll put it on now. second question, why do you need comforting? everything alright?

She hoped he didn’t pick up on that. She wasn’t sure how honest she should be. She sighed, contemplating her reply. They were friends right?

mattieryan: didn’t realise you’d caught that, haha. i’m okay, it just gets a bit lonely at home sometimes when adam is gone. i would message him, but i know he’s out with Lando tonight so didn’t want to bother him.

mattieryan: seriously, i’m fine though! i promise, it’s not that deep, i’ve just had half a bottle of wine and i’m in my feelings, haha.

Mattie locked her phone and placed it delicately in her lap. She attempted to divert her attention by focusing on the TV screen in front of her. She found herself laughing as she watched the characters of her favourite show dancing round the screen.

danielricciardo: i’m more than just a pretty face ya know? that’s perfectly valid. it must suck that he’s gone so much. but i also know for a fact that if you text him and told him how you were feeling he would drop everything to call you.

danielricciardo: but if you’re not going to message him, you’ll have to put up with me bothering you instead :)

mattieryan: you’re not bothering me danny, but thanks for being so sweet

danielricciardo: careful sweetheart, you’ll make my head grow bigger!

danielricciardo: we never got to finish our game of twenty questions.

danielricciardo: what’s your favourite flower?

Mattie found herself messaging Danny until the small hours of the morning. By the time she had finally caved and fallen asleep she felt that she knew the Aussie enough to feel confident calling him a friend.

They had spoken about anything and everything.

Danny had learnt that her favourite flowers were daisies and that she loved to fill her flat with them any chance she got. He also now knew her favourite film was Romeo + Juliet, but that she loved Tangled.

He knew that she preferred autumn and spring to the summer heat or bitter cold. She told him she liked it cool enough to wear a jacket, but sunny enough she could wear sunglasses and not feel silly.

She’d never been to Australia, but always wanted to go. He told her he would show her one day.

Mattie had learnt that Danny was an uncle and that he loved kids. He told her all about his ranch in Perth and how he loved to ride quad bikes around the land. He had sheep and horses on the ranch and how he savoured going back home any chance he got.

Mattie now knew how deep his love of music ran. How he had a playlist for every scenario and that he loved finding new bands and musicians that he had never heard of before.

He adored that she hadn’t asked him once about Formula 1 or that whole part of his life. She wanted to know about him. Danny. Not Daniel Ricciardo, driver for Mclaren.

Mattie couldn’t believe that he was interested. He wanted to know more about her. She felt seen, a feeling she hadn’t felt for a long time.

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Mattie woke up the next morning, rubbing at her face, she squinted as her eyes adjusted to the light now pouring through her bedroom window. She definitely had forgotten to set her alarm last night. She checked the alarm clock next to her bed, 9:05AM.

Time to get up.

She went about the start of her day as usual. She showered, dressed and made herself a coffee before the clock had hit 10AM. Sitting down on one of the barstools by the kitchen counter she pulled out her laptop and began her working day.

A couple hours passed and she had successfully responded to every email in her inbox, and started to read the latest draft of a novel sent to her by one of her clients. She was just getting into a new chapter when she heard her intercom buzz. Confused, she stood up and walked over to the control panel by the front door.

“Hello” she spoke into the microphone, waiting for a response.

“Hiya! I have a delivery for Mattie Ryan? Can you buzz me up?” a female voice came through the speaker.

She pressed the enter button as she searched her brain, trying to remember what she had ordered. Coming up empty, she concluded that it was probably a delivery for Adam but that he had put her name down, knowing he’d be out of the country when it would arrive.

A knock at the door pulled her from her thoughts.

She opened the door gingerly and looked at the delivery woman standing in front of her.

“Delivery for Mattie Ryan? Don’t worry, you don’t need to sign, hope you have a lovely day” the woman spoke as she handed the biggest bouquet of daisies to Mattie.

Mattie looked at the flowers in her hands. Dozens of delicate daisies bound together by brown string, a white card placed on top of them with her name written beautifully in black ink.

She found herself in a slight trance as she closed the door and walked back into her flat. Placing the flowers down carefully on the worktop she opened the card.

Hope these make your day a bit brighter - DR x

Mattie’s face broke into the biggest smile. Her cheeks immediately turned a crimson red, a stark contrast to the snowy white daisies that lay before her.

She quickly pulled out her phone and opened her chat with Danny.

mattieryan: thank you for my flowers danny, they’re beautiful.

Without thinking about it too much she snapped a quick photo of herself standing next to the bouquet with a grin on her face. The message turned from delivered to read almost as quickly as she had sent it

danielricciardo: not as beautiful as you

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✯ authors note: part five is here babies! i'm not totally in love with this one tbh, but i hope you all enjoy

i've not been able to stop thinking about the vcarb01 all day, it's giving 2017 toro rosso livery in the best way, absolutely beautiful

and danny looked so happy at the launch event it made my heart hurt. and the white racing suits/hugo boss fits..... i'm unwell ✯

#daniel ricciardo #dr3 #danny ric #daniel ricciardo fanfic #daniel ricciardo fanfiction #dr3 imagine #f1 fanfic #formula 1 #daniel ricciardo fluff #f1 fiction #daniel ricciardo imagine #redbull racing #visa cashapp racing bulls #f1 fic #f1 imagine

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unrequitedloveletter · 1 year

Note

in another life, we were arsonists- word prompts! Send me any word--it can be the most basic word you’ve ever seen or something specific!--and I’ll write a fic using that word as the inspo

skinny love (ik it's not a single word... but i hope it counts) with nikolai??

Yours- N.L x gn! reader

I love this prompt so much because it reminds me of the Bon Iver song lol, all good!

I knew that skinny love was a term of some kind so I looked up what the definition was and I found two different ones! This is the first one--both are in love and everyone knows it but them--but I didn't include any other characters (it was a total accident, I ended up in the zone and this is what came of that) and the twist is that it's a bit on the angsty side.

Fic type- this is angst!

Warnings-there is. there is so much fucking pining it's not even funny

You were sitting by the lake on the palace grounds, eyes watching the water as you tried not to focus too hard on anything.

You were looking for that specific state of borderline contentment that came with the smaller moments of just simply existing. You didn't want to think about anything; not what was to be done the next day, not the feeling of a breeze as it danced with a graceful cadence along your shoulders, not a certain guy with hair that looked like strings of gold in the sunlight or the handsome way of his grin.

Still, that state of almost-contentedness was something you did not find. Your thoughts strayed to Nikolai as they always did when you had moments of downtime such as that one.

You caught yourself thinking of him, felt the distinct pull of your heart to his and recalled the fact that you'd long thought it could've been heartbreak.

You yearned for him like nothing else, a deep, painful sense of pining that had come up when you knew him as Sturmhond and had not gone away in the years since.

You'd long resigned to the fact that he would never be the man you married, never the one next to whom you fell asleep each night. It just so happened that acknowledging that, living in that existence, hurt like hell.

But, as your hand dipped into the lake, using the ice-cold water as a means to keep you on the ground, steady and aware and not lost in your own head, you accepted that Nikolai Lantsov would never be yours and that he likely did not want you to be his.

In rare instance of downtime, Nikolai had found himself in the palace library. He'd been trying to read a book of poetry that Tolya insisted he would've enjoyed, but he couldn't focus on it if it meant he would've saved his own life.

He was thinking of you. It seemed that you'd always taken up the majority of his thoughts during his downtime, and it hardly helped that he'd been in love with you since he was actively out at sea as the privateer Sturmhond.

He'd always thought he knew what it was to yearn after someone, to pine after them and to feel the pull of his heart to yours, the one that he'd long thought could've been heartbreak.

But every time his mind would find itself occupied with the thought of you again, his heart would kick up. Nikolai always found that the pining, the desire to feel the press of your lips against his in a kiss and the yearning that plucked away at his heart every time he thought of falling asleep next to you, would be so much more intense than he could last recall.

He yearned for you, his heart burned like it'd been set on fire. He wanted to be the one you married, wanted to get to call you his spouse and hear you call him yours in turn. He wanted to love you and know you loved him as well, wanted to love you as you deserved and to be loved as he knew he deserved in turn.

The more he thought about it, the more he knew that it would kill him if he thought on it too long.

As he turned his eyes back to the book he held, as he willed himself to focus on the poetry he'd been reading at Tolyas insistence, he accepted that you'd never be his. Nikolai would find someone else, you'd find someone else. Your paths would diverge and there was nothing Nikolai could've done to stop it.

#nikolai lantsov #nikolai lantsov x reader #shadow and bone #shadow and bone netflix

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muschiettistrashmouth · 4 months

Text

All I Wanted Was You - 1931!Dracula

Note: Hello there! This is not the story I had planned to post this week, but I was bored and couldn't sleep. So bear with me :) Hope you guys like it!

Warnings: Angst. I wrote this listening to Rosyln by Bon Iver e St. Vincent. Also, english is not my first language. Renfield is not dead in this, yay!

Requested? No.

Words: 1121

Looking at the ceiling, you were laying down on the ground of the empty castle Count Dracula used to live in. After killing Lucy and a lot of other townspeople, he was killed by Dr Van Helsing, who was only trying to save Miss Mina. You understood he was trying to do the right thing, but it still hurt so bad to think the love of your life was dead - again.

Renfield walked into the room you were, bringing a plate of food. You weren’t hungry, but you had to eat, you were only human after all.

“It’s what I could bring you…” He sat down beside you, looking at your face that was wet with tears. Even three days later the pain wouldn’t stop.

“I don’t want to eat.” You said in a small voice.

“I know it hurts, y/n. It hurts for me too.” The man placed a hand on your shoulder.

You managed to sit, still too weak from staying awake all night and sleeping from crying by the light of day, repeating the cycle day after day.

“Why did he have to do that to Miss Mina?” You cried out loud, hiding your face in that space between his shoulder and neck.

“Shhh.” The man kissed your hair, hugging your body and trying to comfort you. “We’re gonna figure it out.”

“But what if we don’t?” A sob left your throat.

“We will.” He said, and he sounded like he knew what he was doing. “I just need to find blood.”

“How much?”

“A lot.”

“Fuck.”

“Don’t say things like that.” He warned, knowing his master hated those kinds of words coming out of your mouth like that. “Now eat, I’ll do my chores.”

You didn’t have the strength to tell him he didn’t need to do said chores anymore, after all, his master was dead. So, yeah, you stayed completely quiet, trying to eat the bread and the fruits he managed to steal for you.

Another week had passed, Mina married Jonathan and it didn’t seem fair. They were having the time of their lives on their honeymoon and here you were, still mourning the loss of the Count that stole your heart.

The little garden you planted near the castle’s entrance looked sad, everything you did these last days was like that. Sad.

Renfield was doing God knows what inside that castle that last week, you almost didn’t see him anymore. It was, again, sad, but what could you do? He said he was doing his chores, that must be some sort of form that he managed to deal with his grief, you thought.

What you had no idea was that Renfield managed to bring the vampire back to life. Well, not life, but, you see, managed to bring him back. The count was too weak to get out of his coffin and hunt, so his familiar had to bring the food to him. Everything undercover, as always.

He didn’t want to bring your hopes up in case this madness didn’t work. It was just a plan he managed to come with, after all.

That same night, you were sitting by the flowers in your garden, watering them and, as always, talking to them. No one could blame you, they were the only things who would listen to what you needed to say.

In the tall window of the castle, where you couldn’t see, two male figures appeared. They were looking down on you. The tallest man leaned against his servant, too weak to stand by himself yet.

“How is she, Renfield?” The vampire asked not taking his eyes off your figure below them.

“Trying to live, I guess.” The other answered calmly. “She refused to eat the first three days. Didn’t want to leave the room your coffin was in.”

The count hummed in response, of course he liked you too, but he was afraid he would hurt you, being a vampire and all. That’s why he didn’t do anything about it yet. For the first time he didn’t want to turn someone into a vampire, too afraid you wouldn’t want to be one.

“She’s in the garden almost every night now.” The familiar continued to speak. “Talks to the flowers and all. I think I’m not talking too much to her.”

“You think?” His left eyebrow shot up as he looked at the smaller man. “You’ve been neglecting her.”

“I’m trying to bring you back in full force to be with her and to make her happy. That’s what I’m trying to do.”

“And you can’t stay with her when the sun is up and I’m sleeping?”

Yup, it must be working if Dracula was bitching at him again, Renfield thought.

“Not gonna answer that.”

“What?!”

“I said I’m not gonna answer that.” Renfield said a little louder.

“You’re lucky I’m weak.”

“Meh.”

Dracula’s face was something else at that moment, but he rolled his eyes and stared at you again.

Now, one month has passed since you had lost him. The rain was falling heavily against your umbrella, but you still could hear the song you played on the record player. The garden was a little bit better now. You sighed, looking at your red roses and your tulips, they were getting bigger and bigger. Maybe it was because you were talking and singing to them every night, you heard somewhere that it helped plants grow.

Someone cleared their throat behind you.

“I thought you were busy with your chores.” Your voice was bitter. Renfield really stopped talking to you after a while.

“Oh, he was.” This wasn’t his voice, tho.

You turned around so fast your umbrella fell to the ground. And there he was. The count. In all his glory.

Your mouth opened and closed but no words came out. The rain now soaked your dress, the song changing inside the castle, the thunder making you jump slightly.

“You’re-”

“Yes.” He moved closer. He was soaked too.

“How?”

“I’m actually not sure, dragă.*” The romanian word came out of his lips sweet as honey.

It was all too fast for you to comprehend, in one minute you were looking at him like he was a ghost and the other, you were in his arms, holding him like he was gonna disappear.

“Don’t you ever dare to do this again!” You sobbed.

“I promise I’ll never do this again, dragostea mea.**”

He held your face with both hands, looking deep in your eyes. You weren’t sure who got closer first, but in seconds your lips met.

Renfield was at the door, looking at you with a little smile on his face. He knew you would forgive him for his absence.

*= dear/honey

**= my love

#bela lugosi #bela lugosi!dracula x reader #dracula #fandom imagines #renfield #dracula 1931 #1931 dracula #1931!dracula x reader #angst #he's back

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beefromanoff · 4 months

Text

Going Under Ch. 29

summary: christmas. online comments. an emotional spiral. angst. new years. missions. heartbreak.

characters: Bucky Barnes x OC

soundtrack: exile - Taylor Swift and Bon Iver

warnings: fluff, pop star fantasy x love story, set in an AU where the Avengers reunite after Civil War, pre-infinity war, slight angst, hurt/comfort, lonely reader/OC.

author’s note: GUYS PUT DOWN THE PITCHFORKS PLS, first of all, so sorry it's been a million years! the holidays and my birthday and vacation and everything has just kept me too busy. i've tried to alternate between my other story (linked here) and this one, but I still hate that it's been so long. also, I know this story is a lot of your comfort fic, so I'M SORRY for the angst and heartache! just stick with me pleaseeee!

ilysm, thank you for reading! please let me know what you think!

chapter list

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The city lights glittered outside the panoramic windows of the penthouse, casting a soft glow over the sleek, modern furnishings. A fire blazing in the center of the living room illuminated Gianna’s gaunt face. The past month had taken the youthful roundness from her face and the twinkle from her eyes. Bringing her knees to her chest, she took a slow sip of her wine as she stared out the window at the New York night. Across the horizon, a sharp knife to her heart, glowed the trademark ‘A’ of Avengers’ Tower.

The infamous building, once filled with laughter and shared moments, sat dark and empty. Gianna gazed through the floor-to-ceiling glass, her reflection staring back at her—a portrait of a woman who had lost something irreplaceable.

Her thoughts were a hurricane, a montage of memories that wrecked her mind and haunted the solitude of the room. The past months had unraveled like a thread, leaving behind a tapestry of emotions that she struggled to make sense of. The laughter from Thanksgiving with the Avengers echoed in her mind, but now it seemed like a distant melody she no longer knew how to play.

She spun the stem of the wine glass in her fingers, ignoring the blue glow of the phone on her coffee table. Texts, calls, social media alerts…nothing she cared to check. She knew what they’d say, all variations of the same headlines that had been running for weeks.

Pop Star and Winter Soldier call it quits after whirlwind romance!

Gianna Cruz spotted on solo coffee run in Manhattan!

Who Made Gianna Cruz Cry?! Pop Star Spotted with Red Eyes Amid Split with Famed Assassin.

As bad as the tabloids were, nothing wrecked her like the truth that played on a loop in her mind.

---

Early December, New York

The glow of holiday lights adorned the city streets as Bucky and Gianna strolled through Central Park. Snowflakes danced around them, and the air buzzed with the energy of the season.

They paused under a streetlamp, his eyes meeting hers. "You know, you're too good for someone like me," he confessed, a hint of vulnerability in his gaze.

Gianna chuckled, playfully nudging him. "Oh hush. You’re the first guy to ever think he doesn’t deserve me, and it’s one of the many reasons I’m certain you do."

Bucky's laugh echoed through the crisp winter night as he held Gianna’s hand in his own.

“If you say so.”

---

Early December, Upstate New York - Avengers’ Compound

The soft glow of the evening sun streamed into Bucky's room as he idly scrolled through social media. His fingers danced over the screen, swiping through images and updates. A photo caught his eye—himself and Gianna, smiling, carefree, fingers woven together as they crossed a street in the city.

The initial wave of warmth quickly gave way to a sinking feeling as he caught a glimpse of the comment section. Many were positive, gushing about how good they looked together, how happy they seemed. Bucky couldn't help but smile at those.

However, as he scrolled further, the tone shifted. Harsh words leapt off the screen, cutting through him like a knife. They weren't strangers to him—the names, the insults—all a reminder of the Winter Soldier's haunted past that some couldn't let go. Comment after comment confirmed his darkest fears, the things his mind taunted him with late at night.

"Can't believe she's with a killer."

“Of everyone she could date, she chooses him? A freak of nature with blood on his hands?”

“I hope he knows he’s ruining her life. He should be with a monster like himself, not someone innocent like Gianna. I hate this relationship.”

“Does she even know everything he’s done? I can’t support her after she knowingly dates a murderer.”

"She deserves better."

The words became a relentless cascade, a torrent of doubts and insecurities that he had fought so hard to suppress. The shadows of his past seemed to stretch and loom, threatening the fragile happiness he had found with Gianna. He felt guilty, shameful, stupid for ever thinking he could escape them, thinking he could find some semblance of peace.

Gianna's voice interrupted his thoughts as she cracked open the door to his room, a soft and cheerful invitation to join the team for dinner. A part of him wanted to tell her about the comments, to seek reassurance in her presence, but a darker instinct held him back. The shame was too great. Something nagged at him, told him maybe they were right. Their relationship was a fluke. Maybe she didn’t realize what she’d gotten herself into. Fear crept into his mind, convincing him that if he put those thoughts into her mind, even seeking comfort from them, they’d take root and she’d wonder what the hell she was doing with him in the first place.

Forcing a smile, he silenced the turmoil in his mind and pocketed his phone, choosing not to burden her with the weight of his doubts.

“Let’s go eat,” He put a hand on her lower back and kissed her cheek, ignoring the nagging feeling that at some point soon, he would no longer be able to.

---

Christmas Morning, Avengers’ Compound

The cozy warmth of Christmas evening found Earth’s Mightiest Heroes lounging by the fireplace in the overly decorated living room. Gift wrapping strewn everywhere, the smell of hot cocoa and spiked cider filling the air. In a mess of holiday sweaters and new presents, the team fell into a quiet but comfortable silence. This had been an over-the-top, Hallmark-esque Christmas season. Thanksgiving had been the crack in the stoic dam that they all previously kept in place, and now the full on family festivities were unleashed.

Wanda and Gianna had baked so many Christmas goodies that Tony swore he wouldn’t even be able to wear the Iron Man suit. They’d arranged a team “Secret Santa” after insisting the guys couldn’t be trusted to buy a good gift for everyone on the team, so they limited it to one person each and repeatedly reminded Tony of the $200 limit.

An absurd number of stockings hung from the mantle, cramped and hung nearly overlapping, but everyone had their own. Christmas music had played over the built-in speakers in their living quarters since the day they’d touched down after Thanksgiving. The most surprising part was that no one seemed to mind the excess holiday cheer.

Now, as Christmas Day wound down, it had all culminated in a picturesque holiday.

As the festivities wound down, Bucky caught Gianna's eye, his expression softening with a secret.

"Come with me," he murmured, jerking his head towards the balcony.

Gianna followed him through the common room, away from the heart of the celebration. They slipped out onto the balcony, a quiet alcove overlooking the snowy landscape.

Bucky handed her a steaming mug of hot chocolate. "Merry Christmas," he said, a small smile playing on his lips.

"Merry Christmas," she replied. The night air was crisp, and the stars above shimmered in a vast, dark canvas. One of her favorite things about being away from the city.

He reached into his pocket and pulled out a carefully wrapped gift. "I made something for you," he confessed.

“What? Bucky…” Curiosity turned into wide-eyed surprise as she unwrapped the present. Nestled within the paper was a beautifully bound book. On the cover, in elegant script, read the simple title MMXXIII -- or 2023. The year they met.

Her fingers traced the cover, and when she opened it, she found a chronicle of their tour—all told from Bucky’s point of view. He had meticulously compiled entries from his journal, filled with his thoughts and feelings about her, paired with photos both snapped by fans or paparazzi and by Gianna herself. It made for a comprehensive timeline of him falling in love with her.

Tears welled up in Gianna's eyes as she flipped through the pages. Bucky's writing, which she’d read before, but to have it gifted to her with all the photos and scrawled footnotes and thoughtfulness…she felt dangerously close to melting into a puddle on the ground.

"I remember the first time I saw you on stage," he recounted. "There was this light about you. It drew me in, and little did I know, it would change everything."

Gianna was speechless. Shaking her head, she looked up at him with watery eyes. “This is, undoubtedly, the best gift I have ever been given.” She leaned forward to kiss his cheek. “James Buchanan Barnes. Thank you. I love you.”

His chest tightened. No matter how many times he’d heard those words come from her mouth or said them back to her, they never felt any less miraculous.

“I love you too, G.”

Giving a shy smile, she stood. “I have something for you, too. Be right back.” She darted through the doors.

Returning swiftly with her guitar in hand, she plopped back down on the chair beside him. Her breath came out in steamy clouds against the cold air. Gazing up at him through her lashes, she began to strum.

“This one is called…My Hero.”

As she played, her angelic voice echoing across the quiet night, Bucky felt his stomach twist. Sitting across from him was the most beautiful, kind woman he’d ever known. She told him she loved him. She slept beside him every night. Here she was on Christmas Day, singing a song about him. As her poetic words heralded him as her hero, he couldn’t help the guilt he felt reminding him that he would always be a villain.

---

New Years’ Eve, New York - Avengers’ Tower

The New Year's Eve party at the Avengers' Tower was a spectacle to behold. Tony Stark had outdone himself once again, transforming the common area into a sea of crystal champagne flutes and ice sculptures. The clinking of glasses and laughter filled the massive room.

Sam had taken over bartending -- flipping bottles with flair while the actual paid bartender stood awkwardly to the side. Peter hung from the chandelier, showing off for a group of this years’ Sports Illustrated models. Steve and Nat, shared a quiet moment away from the dance floor, looking suspiciously comfortable together. Tony, to no one’s surprise, had been the life of the party. He bounced from the DJ booth to the dance floor to the bar, never being seen without a champagne bottle in hand. The atmosphere was infectious, a perfect ending to the year's highs and lows.

Meanwhile, Gianna and Bucky had spent most of the evening cozied up on a plush couch toward the back of the room, taking it all in. Her laughter seemed to drown out the music and the crowd, Bucky's eyes glimmered with a softness that only her presence could invoke.

As the clock crept closer to midnight, the anticipation in the room grew. The sequin and glitter-clad Avengers had found their way together in the final moments of the year.

Tony, ever the showman, took center stage. "Ladies and gentlemen, Avengers and friends, let's welcome the new year with a bang!"

The countdown echoed through the room, a chorus of voices rising in unison. Ten, nine, eight...He raised an arm, clad in one single sleeve of the Iron Man suit, and aimed it for the rafters.

Bang! Confetti rained down from where his shot hit as the clock struck midnight, and cheers erupted. Amidst the celebration, Bucky and Gianna only had eyes for each other as they pulled away from their first kiss of the new year, only feet from the barstools where their first ever kiss had been shared.

Gianna’s eyes were bright as she looked up at him, "I can't wait to spend this year with you."

Bucky, his smile carrying a mix of emotion, replied, "You're going to have an amazing year, G."

---

End of January

The Quinjet soared through the night sky, cutting through the clouds like a sleek shadow. Bucky, sitting in the co-pilot seat, stared out into the vast darkness. Steve glanced at his friend, sensing the tension in the air.

"Something's been eating at you, Buck," Steve finally broke the silence, his eyes focused on the controls. "You've been volunteering for every mission lately. More than usual. What's going on?"

Bucky hesitated, his gaze fixed on the city lights below. He was wrestling with a storm of conflicting emotions, unsure of how to voice them, even to his closest friend. Steve was persistent, his concern etched on his features.

"Bucky, we've been through too much for you to keep things from me," Steve urged gently. "Talk to me."

Bucky sighed, the internal struggle evident in his eyes. "It's Gianna."

Steve raised an eyebrow, silently inviting Bucky to continue.

"I can't shake this feeling, Steve," Bucky confessed, his voice laced with uncertainty. "Like I'm holding her back. Like I'm not good enough for her. I love her too much to see her stuck with someone like me."

Steve furrowed his brow, concern deepening. "Bucky, you've been through hell and back. She knows that, knows it wasn’t your fault, and she chose to be with you. You're not holding her back. You saved her life, remember?"

"But what if she deserves more? What if I can't give her the life she deserves?" Bucky's words carried the weight of his self-doubt. “She’ll always have to pay the price for my past. I want more for her than that.”

Steve understood the root of Bucky's turmoil. He reached over, placing a reassuring hand on Bucky's shoulder. "You're not giving her enough credit, Buck. Talk to her. Share what you're feeling. She deserves to know. I’m sure if she had any idea you were feeling this way, she’d be devastated."

Bucky nodded, but his gaze drifted back out the window to the night sky.

“Where did all this come from?”

“I saw some comments online.”

“Buck…” Steve sighed. “You can’t do that to yourself. None of us can go online without finding something day-ruining written about ourselves. It’s never good.”

“At least you guys have saved more people than you’ve killed.” Bucky’s tone was gruff.

“If we’re looking at deaths at our hands while under our own volition, I’ve got you beat by a long shot, pal. Hell, I bet even Pete’s got you.” He gave his friend a reassuring smile.

“Yeah.”

The conversation was interrupted by the Quinjet's navigation system signaling their arrival at the mission site.

"We'll continue this, Buck. But for now, focus on the mission. And don't do anything stupid until we can talk more.”

---

End of February

Sweat dripped from Bucky’s forehead as his fists pounded into the punching bag.

The chains clinked as Bucky moved from the bag to the bench, his breathing heavy. The dim glow of the overhead lights cast deep shadows on his face, highlighting the lines etched by years of war and the burdens of a tortured past.

His inner dialogue was a relentless companion, the voice of doubt whispering in the hollows of his mind.

She'd be happier without you. She could be back in New York, performing, living the life she deserves. She could find someone without your dark history. Someone she doesn’t have to defend.

The weights lifted and dropped with a controlled precision, the repetition an attempt to drown out the insistent thoughts. Bucky's jaw clenched, muscles straining against the heavy load. The gym became a battleground, his internal conflict manifesting in the physical exertion.

You're a relic of a bygone era, Buck. She deserves someone who can give her a future, not someone haunted by the ghosts of his past.

The voice echoed, each word a reminder of the perceived inadequacies he felt.

He moved back to the sparring area, still running from his own demons. The stark sounds of his combat training echoing in the empty space. The punches were precise, calculated, a dance of muscle memory and suppressed rage. His metal arm moved with deadly precision, nearly knocking the bag out of the ceiling with one blow.

Bucky paused, chest heaving, a sheen of sweat covering his body. His reflection in the gym's mirrored walls showed the anguish and exhaustion on his face. He spent more and more time in the training room as sleep continued to evade him. Despite himself, he couldn’t help but read more of the same comments that began this spiral in the first place. Subjecting himself to them felt like a fair punishment for everything he’d done, so he continued to scroll, hoping that facing the ugliness would somehow atone for his past. Instead, he found his guilt growing alongside the chasm between him and Gianna.

The truth was, the weight of his past had woven itself into the fabric of his identity. He doubted if he could ever truly be what Gianna needed. He’d thrown himself into missions, avoiding time with her. When he looked at her face, saw her beautiful, earnest eyes…his heart cracked. He couldn’t stand to be with her and think of losing her. He couldn’t stand to be with her and stomach how much better she deserved. So he stayed away.

He told himself she didn’t notice him sneaking out of bed every night after midnight, and maybe she didn’t at first. But as the weeks crept by, she felt him pulling away. When he came home between missions, he wasn’t fully there. She’d even asked Steve if something had triggered his PTSD, sending him back into a dark place. No matter what she tried, she couldn’t pull him back. Even when she initiated sex, he never seemed to be in the mood. She was at a loss.

Their reality that had once been passionate, sweaty, tangled in the sheets had given way to a new reality. One where she pretended she didn’t hear him leave their room to go to the gym every night. One where he convinced himself his absence was better for her. One where neither of them felt happy.

As he wiped the sweat from his brow with the back of his hand, a pang of realization hit him in the gut.

I have to let her go. For her own good.

The gym, usually a place of solace, now echoed with the tortuous thoughts that crowded Bucky's mind. He stood there, caught between the pull of love and the push of self-doubt, wondering if sacrificing his happiness might be the only way to ensure hers.

---

End of February, The Next Day

The air in the common room hung heavy with tension, a storm brewing in the otherwise quiet evening at the Avengers Compound. The team exchanged uneasy glances, as the thin door to Gianna’s bedroom did little to mask what was happening behind it. Natasha shot Steve a concerned look, her instincts honed from years of reading between the lines.

Gianna and Bucky stood on opposite ends of her room, the echoes of their argument reverberating through the walls.

"Why can't you just talk to me? Do you know how much it hurts that you're making this decision without even discussing it with me, without giving me a chance to change it?" Gianna's voice quivered with the rawness of her emotions. “I have to feel you pulling away for weeks, beg you to talk to me, and now…this?”

"I thought it would be easier this way," Bucky admitted, his voice heavy with regret.

Gianna shook her head, tears streaming down her face. "Nothing worth having is easy, Bucky. Love isn't easy. But you don't just throw it away because it's hard."

“I’m not throwing it away because it’s hard, Gianna. I’m giving it up because you’re better off without me, I -”

"What do you mean I'm better off without you?!" Gianna's voice rose, a crescendo of hurt and disbelief. Her eyes, usually filled with warmth, were now ablaze with anger. “You don't get to decide what I deserve, Bucky! All I did was try to love you the best way I possibly could, and this is how you repay me? By pushing me away? By dumping me?”

Bucky's expression was a mixture of regret and resolve. "I can't give you what you deserve, Gianna. You deserve a life without the shadows of my past."

“Bullshit,” Her laughter was bitter. "That’s a bullshit excuse and you know it.”

She crossed the room and jabbed a finger into his chest as angry tears filled her eyes. “I know your past, all of it. You sat there in my hotel room and you decided to trust me with it. Not once have I judged you, not once have I used it against you, not once have I given you any reason to regret trusting me. So don’t you dare stand here and tell me I deserve better than your past when I saw all of it and decided for myself that it changed nothing.”

His jaw clenched, the weight of his decision etched into the lines of his face. "It’s not about that, Gianna. I don’t regret telling you anything, but you deserve to be with someone without a past you have to overlook -”

“I don’t overlook your past, Bucky!” She cried. “I don’t love you because I can ignore everything you did, or in spite of who you are -- I love you because of who you are! Everything you’ve overcome, how strong and kind and good you are. I don’t want someone who has a perfect past, I want someone who knows how ugly the world is and chooses to be good anyways. I want you.” Her voice broke at the end as her rage gave way to heartbreak.

“I would never be able to live with myself if I kept you from everything you deserve,” He spoke softly.

“You don’t get to decide what I deserve!” She interrupted, staring up at him with angry tears streaking down her face.

“You deserve a man who doesn’t get called a murderer when he walks down the street.” Bucky hissed. “Your kids deserve a father that hasn’t committed fucking war crimes. Hell, you deserve someone who can give you a family at all, because who the hell knows if I even can!”

“That’s not fair,” She protested. “I never asked for those things from you.”

“You shouldn’t have to ask for a good life, Gianna.” His eyes softened as he ran his fingertips down the back of her arm, a gesture that used to make her heart clench now shattered it even further. “That’s why I’m letting you go find it.”

She wrenched free of his grasp and stormed out of the room, throwing the door open. The team looked up, caught in the crossfire of a relationship unraveling, unsure if they should acknowledge or intervene at all. Gianna ignored the audience as she whirled to face Bucky who’d followed her out of the room.

“Do you know where I was before I met you?” Her eyes narrowed. “I was alone. Completely and utterly alone. The only people who cared if I woke up in the morning were the people who worked for me. I would go weeks without anyone asking how I really was. I was a spectacle, a circus act. I was a commodity.” She paused to take a shaky breath. “So this ‘better life’ you’re so nobly sending me back to? It doesn’t fucking exist.”

Gianna stepped further into the living room, finally acknowledging the group. “And do you know the worst part?” She gave that cold, foreign laugh again before turning back to Bucky. “You already knew all of that. You knew because I trusted you and I told you. Yet here you are anyways, sending me right back into the life I loved you for saving me from.”

There was no sound in the room except for Gianna’s ragged breathing. The look of pure anguish on Bucky’s face was enough to break even the coldest heart. No one dared intervene, not when so much hung in the balance between them.

“I spent months crying myself to sleep before you came along.” Gianna spoke softly, reigning in her emotions. “But what difference does it make now, considering for the past two weeks you haven’t even cared to stay in bed long enough to know that I’m right back to my old ways.”

Her eerily calm delivery struck the final blow. Bucky’s face crumpled as he looked at the ground. Guilt rose up inside him. For weeks, he’d been avoiding her, sneaking out of their room, doing anything he could to deal with his own shit. Not once did he think of what that was doing to her. In trying to protect her, he’d been slowly breaking her heart anyways.

Gianna turned her back on Bucky, his broken expression still locked on the ground.

“Can someone take me back to New York, please?” She spoke softly but firmly, eyes scanning the pained faces of her friends. Her fists clenched at her sides.

The group shifted nervously on the couch, unsure what to do. The recent tension between the couple hadn’t exactly gone unnoticed, but this explosion had caught them all by surprise. No one wanted to move, to acknowledge that this was real. To take Gianna back to the city would be to cement both of their broken hearts.

“Nat?” Gianna’s lower lip quivered. “Please?”

The redhead stilled beside Steve. His hand squeezed hers in reassurance that everything would be okay. It had to be okay.

“Yeah. Yeah, of course.” Nat’s voice was soft, kind as she stood, weaving through the group. “Do you want to grab your stuff?”

“No.” She didn’t look behind her as she turned to leave the room. “There’s nothing here I need anymore.”

And with that, she walked away, leaving Bucky standing in the ruins of a love he was convinced he had to sacrifice.

---

Present Day, Mid-March, New York

Gianna's eyes stung with tears that wouldn’t come. For once in her life, she had no tears left to cry.

The phone continued to vibrate, a cruel reminder of the messages she couldn't bring herself to read. The truth she didn’t want to acknowledge.

Bucky Barnes had left her. She was alone.

This time, no one was coming to save her.

#james bucky barnes #avengers #bucky barnes #bucky barnes x oc #bucky fanfic #bucky fluff #winter soldier #sebastian stan #winter soldier fluff #winter solider x reader

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