#<- why am i tagging i want to stay hidden

[evorathesylvurr]

Hm. Perhaps i should make a tag specific for Elpis (my limbus self insert) so that if i get followers they can filter out my cringe.

If anyone is interested in them:

This is them ^_^ their name is Elpis and they’re based off of Pandora’s box since i tend to go for names that start with E for my self inserts (E and S names, for Evora and Sora lol)

Their whole deal is that they had a class (its either a class or an orphanage, haven’t decided) where they spent most of their time w/ the vices in the box until the Bad Things Happened (tm) and Elpis is the only one left :(

They love faust. they are very sweet together and it is very autistic.

They're very much nonbinary and use they/them but they’re often referred to as a girl/by feminine terms (for an example in a oneshot i wrote of them, they are called "faust's girl").

Elpis is a character outside of the fact that theyre a self insert/self ship oc!! Their whole thing is flower language and that’s the a big thing in the way they express their (platonic!!) feelings towards the other sinners.

One of the little flower language things they do is at the end of a sinner’s canto is give them a flower that has a meaning relevant to them… i have a small list and reasons on my Elpis google doc but i dont have that available atm because mobile tumblr is weird lol.

Their little icon is meant to be both a flower and a butterfly! I didn’t want to just go with butterflies since butterflies mean hope BUT butterflies are already kinda taken by *checks notes* ryoshu’s icon, and every single ardor moth and other butterfly/moth themed abnormality.

Also the skirt is very much not super efficient in battle but hey. It works for them. and also they refuse to get rid of it.

Their primary weapon is an olive branch type thing with a lantern at the end. Like the SINGLE most stereotypical staff lantern thing. it also has a branch that they weave medicinal herbs onto :3

The lantern has easy break glass panes, though there is no door. The way the lantern works is they have to reset the Greek fire like substance (half a copout on what it actually is composed, half because Greek fire is interesting, and also half because she's from greek mythology), relight the candle carefully, and then put the panes back in. Her Big Attack(tm) lore wise is them smacking the enemy with their staff and the lantern shatters onto the enemy. I guess combat wise it would be a one time use inflict bleed & burn. like

[on hit] inflict x burn, inflict y bleed (can only occur once an encounter)

They still do damage just no burn/bleed :3 this is for balance purposes (and gameplay/lore integration because DAMN the PMVerse is great at that shit keep it UP /pos)

However because theyre really easily startled if you approach them from behind and they don’t see you, they have a really nasty habit of “swing first, ask questions later”. It’s to the point on the Elpis google doc i literally have a table of how many times they’ve set a sinner on fire by accident (as well as how many on purpose). It’s a source of comedy until it’s Not.

[hauntingblue]

And WHERE is the gyojin island road poneglyph

[cllightning81]

Hidden [LS2+OP81]

Summary : People believe Oscar is thirdwheeling your relationship with Logan. However, they'd be wrong.

Pairing/s: Logan Sargeant x Oscar Piastri x Reader

Word Count : 2.4k

Masterlist Logan Sargeant Masterlist Oscar Piastri Masterlist Want to be included in my tag list? Click HERE

Your relationship with Oscar and Logan had never been one that was shared with the world, and for the longest time, all three of you just assumed it would never be shared with the world. Oscar was more than happy about that. He wasn’t the kind of guy looking for public displays of affection towards him from either you or Logan but when Logan confessed that he wanted to go public Oscar pushed for you and Logan to go public and let fans see him as the third wheel. 

You had obviously argued with the idea. You understood why Oscar didn’t want to. They raced in so many countries where being in any kind of “non standard” relationships would get them banned or arrested, but you could also see where Logan was coming from. He wanted to show you both off. 

You, Oscar and Logan had grown up together karting in England. You can’t actually remember how the relationship between the three of you came around. You had started off as enemies, then moved to friends and all of a sudden became boyfriends and girlfriends. While you couldn’t exactly complain, it would have been nice to have a fun story to tell the grandkids in the future. Maybe one of them had the story hidden somewhere. 

You personally had stopped racing many years ago after seeing how much one season in Formula 4 cost your parents. Deciding that while you wanted to stay in racing, there were many other ways to do that. So you stopped putting your parents through the financial burden of racing and put them through the financial burden of university. 

You couldn’t lie, it did get you somewhere. Between university and an apprenticeship with Aston Martin and all the previous names they went by, you were set for the Formula One world. While you expected to be behind the scenes in the technology campus, you were more than surprised when Lawrence Stroll himself asked you to join them on race weekends. 

Who were you to say, no? Being at the racetrack every weekend and getting to support your boyfriends in person. So here you were walking through the Imola paddock. Oscar and Logan chatting as you trailed slightly behind reading the news on your phone, not paying much attention to what was being said. 

“You okay?” Logan asked as they both stopped walking. You looked up with a nod 

“Hmm? Yeah! Sorry. I was reading the news about back home” You shrugged, and they nodded, continuing to walk, obviously deciding it was a good enough answer considering you do it quite often. They boys stopped outside the Mclaren garage without an indication they were going to stop, causing you to bump into Oscar’s solid back. His hands instantly coming around to stop you from falling 

“Careful” He chuckled as you huffed, straightening your Aston Martin shirt and slipping your phone into your pocket. 

“Next time, tell me we're about to stop” You complained, and Logan laughed, saying his final byes to Oscar. Your hand gently brushed against Oscar’s own hand. 

“Be safe out there” You smiled up at him, causing him to nod 

“You know I will be” He smiled, allowing you and Logan to continue your walk. Logan blabbering about how he thought the race was going to go and just about everything until you got to the Aston Martin garage. 

“Be safe out there” You told him, and he nodded with a smile 

“I’ll do my best” He smiled, walking off as you walked inside the Aston Martin hospitality. 

“And over there just coming in is Y/N. She’s late, but we don’t tell her that” You heard Lance tell a bunch of little kids as you walked over behind him. 

“He does tell me that, but I also keep him safe, so he knows when to be quiet” You hummed, sitting down in the chair next to him. 

When you first started working in AM, you understood why people didn’t like Lance Stroll. However, that was just his guard. When you really got to know him and his family, you understood that they were just normal people, and Lawrence just wanted the best for his son. 

You sat with Lance for a little bit before leaving to the garage to start your own work for the morning. Saying a ‘hello’ to Lawrence as you passed him. 

The rest of the day went as well as it could. Oscar continued to be asked questions about ‘Third Wheeling’ and Logan. Both Oscar and Logan continued to be asked about what it was like to be the grid kid to you and Lance. How that came about you would never understand. Considering you were newer to this side of the paddock than Oscar and Logan. 

The race wasn’t the best with only one out of three cars coming back in one piece. Logan was a victim of Kevin’s dive bombing. It was a good move realistically if it had worked out correctly, but Logan just happened to miss it in his mirrors and went for a move on the car in front at the same time. Lance was a victim of the car not cooperating and ending up in the barriers. A loose wheel, the mechanics had come back and told you both. Whereas Oscar got to keep his 100% lap completed streak. Still the only one this season. 

Logan was waiting outside the Aston Martin Hospitality as you sat with Lance going over some basic race data. 

“Hey Logan’s waiting outside for you. Well, I assume it's you” You looked over before getting up 

“I’ll just be a moment” You mumbled as Lance shrugged 

“Take your time” He leaned back in his seat, obviously not caring about going over the data. However, you hadn’t expected him to make a run for it. 

You walked down to Logan, who reached a hand out to you. Taking his hand on your own. You tilted your head slightly as he wrapped his arms around you. 

“Hey what’s wrong?” You frowned, pushing some hair out of his face

“Just my team again” You sighed 

“I really wish you’d let me do something about it Logs” You pressed a kiss to his head where it was lying in the crook of your neck. 

“You know I like doing it by myself though” He explained, and you nodded 

“I do, but Logs the way that team is treating you is ridiculous. One conversation with your grid grandpa and you’d be sorted for at least a year” You joked, getting him to crack a smile 

“Oh we need to have a word about that. How come I’ve got two dads?” He asked 

“How come I’m your fucking mum?” You asked and he laughed, his head falling back. You smiled glad you could make him laugh “Who’s your other dad then?” You asked, having not seen the rumours about it 

“Button” He shrugged, and you whistled 

“Hmm I’m not going to complain about that one” You joked, and he tickled your sides, making you push him away. Oscar appeared next to Logans side “Osc save me” You complained as he just stood there laughing 

“I came to steal Logan for a little bit” He shrugged, and you nodded 

“Go ahead. I need to finish debrief” You smiled, stepping back a little 

“I’ll let you speak to him” Your eyes widened at Logan’s statement.

“Seriously? You’ll let me speak to Lawrence?” You questioned, and he nodded, turning on his heel and walking away with Oscar. You walked back inside groaning as all Lance’s stuff was gone. Obviously. 

“The kid gone missing?” Fernando asked, and you nodded 

“We were almost done anyway. I guess I’ll just let him go” You shrugged, and he nodded, glancing to where you, Oscar, and Logan previously stood. 

“So what’s the real story between you three?” He asked as you walked with him. You almost choked on your own spit at the open question

“I erm. I” You could feel the heat rising to your cheeks 

“I’ve seen the three of you behind closed doors. I used to work with Oscar remember” You nodded, having briefly forgotten about Oscar’s Alpine days. You looked over at him. It was Nando. You looked up to him throughout your karting days, and here he was asking about your relationship. 

“We’re all dating” You explained quietly as Fernando smiled at you with a hum. You looked up at him, confused as you stopped in the garage 

“Are you happy with those two idiots?” He asked, and you nodded with a smile as the blush rose. 

“Very happy Nando” You nodded 

“Good” And with that, he walked away, leaving you to gather your belongings alone. Once all your belongings were in the bag, you walked towards Lawrence's office. Knocking on the door. The man had been like a second father to you since he took over the company

“Come in” He called, and you walked into his office, almost like a school kid about to get told off. “Ah Y/N. Good race today, no?” He asked, and you nodded 

“Would have been better if the wheel stayed on the car” You shrugged, and he nodded, motioning for you to sit down. 

“Can’t go right all the time unfortunately” He replied, and you nodded 

“I guess that’s true” You placed your bag on the floor next to the seat you were now sitting in as he moved around the desk to sit on the same side as you. He didn’t like formal meetings you’d found over the years. 

“So how can I help you?” He asked, and you let out a shaky breath. You hadn’t thought through what you were about to say to him. 

“It’s about Logan” You started, and he motioned for you to continue “Williams isn’t treating him well. Actually they’re treating him like he’s a piece of shit on the grass. And I’m not the kind of person to come in here and ask for favours, but we know he’s a good driver. We both saw him in the junior formulas, and we can see the differences in his and Albon’s car. Please, Lawrence, is there anything you can do for him?” You asked. Lawrence's eyes softened. Obviously, before moving into the F1 paddock you’d warned him about the relationship, and with an NDA signed, he was more than happy to still have you on the team. 

“How bad is it?” He asked and you bit you lip slightly 

“Secrets about Logan’s car, midseason drivers talks. It’s bad. He won’t tell Oscar or I how bad, but it’s bad” Lawrence shook his head 

“That is bad. Look I’ll speak to Mike, but I can’t promise anything” You nodded

“That’s all I ask. It doesn’t have to be a seat even if it’s just a reserve or test driver. I know he’d appreciate it especially if they do replace him with an F2 kid” You sighed, and he nodded

“Anything for my grid grandson” He joked, and you laughed, shaking your head

“Oh my god. Not you as well” You laughed, and he laughed along. 

“Lance was telling me about it. Weird relationship you’ve got there” You laughed with a nod 

“We were talking about that earlier” You nodded 

“Well I’ll speak to Mike. Give me until Canada. Think it can wait that long?” He asked, and you nodded 

“I’m sure it will” You smiled, going to shake his hand as you both stood up however, Lawrence had other plans, pulling you into a hug. 

Back at the hotel, you could tell how Logan was feeling just by how he was moping around the room. You shared a knowing look with Oscar. You grabbed your shoes, pulling them on before pressing a kiss to both their lips, leaving Logan confused before walking out. Leaving them both alone. 

You knew what Oscar’s plan was while you were away, which is exactly why you left without saying a word. Your plan was to go buy a basket for Logan full of things just to cheer him up. Part of yours and Oscar’s master plan every time Logan was feeling down. 

Returning to the hotel room, you knocked on the door, realising that on your way out, you didn’t grab the room key. Oscar pulled the door open, still shirtless, having obviously been in the shower recently. 

“Hey” He smiled, pressing a kiss to your lips as you walked into the room. 

“Hey yourself” You hummed, glancing towards the bathroom where the shower was running. Placing the bags on the bed as Oscar’s arms wrapped around your waist looking into the bags as you moved all the goodies into a gift basket. 

Oscar pressed a kiss to your shoulder as you leaned back into him, looking at your handy work with a hum. The shower turned off as you took your shoes off, throwing them next to the pile at the door. 

You had brought all of Logan’s favourite candy – Italy has a lot of American candy sections – some of his other favourite foods as well as a little teddy bear. 

“You forgot something at home” Oscar hummed, and you looked at him with a frown. He reached into his pockets, pulling out your rings. You smiled, holding out your hand, letting him slide them onto your ring finger. 

Logan walked out the bathroom with a towel wrapped around his waist frowning as he saw the basket sat on the bed. 

“Thought you could do with some cheering up” You smiled, reaching your hand out for him to join you and Oscar. Your arm setting around his waist 

“Lawrence is speaking to Mike. He can’t promise anything, however it’s better than nothing. But we knew you still needed cheering up. So some of your favourites” You smiled, resting your head on his shoulder as he leaned down, pressing a kiss to your hair before turning his head to kiss Oscar. 

Coming Soon

Tag List

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@barcelonaloverf1life

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@f1kenzzz

@evie-119

@ahgase99

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[cheftsunoda]

beauty and brains

(part five)

smau + real life

wedding planning chaos with something old, new, borrowed and blue.

Charles Leclerc x !Doctor Sister Reader X Platonic F1 Grid

Leclerc Reader x Lando Norris

part one here:)

part two here:)

part three here:)

part four here:)

tag list : @klauslovemepls , @omgsuperstarg , @msliz , @samanthaofanarchy , @mayax2o07 , @goldenstrawberryx , @hannahmotors10 , @alireads27, @1800-love-me , @htpssgavi , @cmgmikealson , @babygirl-4986 , @star73807-blog, @glow-ish , @just-tingz-virgo, @majapapaya4, @lina505

—

dr_jules_leclerc added posts to her story!

seen by lando, charles_leclerc, alexandrasaintmleux & 4,368,464 others.

charles_leclerc : you are a Ferrari fan everyday…just somedays you need to act like you like your..fiances (🤮)..team I guess

dr_jules_leclerc : my fiances (❤️💘😚❤️) team won the constructors last year….what did Ferrari do???

charles_leclerc : whose side are you even on here????

dr_jules_leclerc : the winning one

charles_leclerc : return my girlfriend and my child to me this instant

dr_jules_leclerc : alex said she’d rather stay with me

charles_leclerc : the UTTER betrayal today is disgusting

lando: id say i hate seeing you in red but you look stunning in every color so…

dr_jules_leclerc : love you sm mon amorrrr

lando : do i get you for quali tomorrow??

dr_jules_leclerc : absolutely pumpkin

lando : pole it is then

liked by dr_jules_leclerc

lewishamilton : let’s gooooo we get you in the garage today??

dr_jules_leclerc : absolutely lewww (after all, you are the only reason im a Ferrari fan)

liked by lewishamilton

—

alexandrasaintmleux added to her story!

seen by lando, charles_leclerc, arthur_leclerc & 358,368 others.

lando: she is so fucking beautiful

lando : and YES YES I CAN FIGHT

lando : but honestly she’d probably pick you😞

alexandrasaintmleux : sadly you proposed first so i think you got her bud😞😞

dr_jules_leclerc : oml the 2nd pic is so cute thank u for my new wallpaper 😭

dr_jules_leclerc : and i love you sm my angel (we still have time to run away together)

liked by alexandrasaintmleux

charles_leclerc : wait why is she in the mclaren garage??

charles_leclerc : WAIT - why are YOU in the mclaren garage too???

alexandrasaintmleux: 😁😁

arthur_leclerc : can you guys grab me a croissant from the mclaren hospitality?? theirs are better 🙏🏻

alexandrasaintmleux: jules already grabbed you two

arthur_leclerc : wow i feel so loved

—

f1gossipgirls posted!

liked by dr_jules_leclerc, alexandrasaintmleux and 234,638 others.

f1gossipgirls : George Russell was seen involved in a juicy conversation with his girlfriend Carmen, Charles Leclerc’s Girlfriend Alexandra and Charles twin Sister/Lando’s Fiance, Dr Jules Leclerc. Wonder what the gossip was about?? ☕️🫖

—

dr_jules_leclerc : can confirm GR is the paddock gossip queen

liked by georgerussell63 & carmenmmundt

georgerussell63 : and meme king don’t forget

georgerussell63 : no gossip today ladies…i am on the wedding planning committee 😁😁

carmenmmundt : I hope you are this excited when we have to plan our wedding

alexandrasaintmleux: why did george actually have some good ideas??😭

georgerussell63 : what can I say? I stay up to date with the trends

username5 : this is absolutely killing me I can’t -

username10 : so iconic of George tbh

—

The paddock buzzed with its usual pre-race rhythm—mechanics, media, espresso cups and tire chatter. But I wasn’t thinking about sector times or strategy meetings today.

I was thinking about table settings.

“Outdoor ceremony or something inside?” Alexandra asked, eyes hidden behind her sunglasses, but her focus very much locked onto the Pinterest board on my iPad.

“I’m torn,” I groaned, sitting back against the low couch in the hospitality suite. “I want something timeless but also… not boring. Lando keeps saying he ‘just wants to marry me,’ which is sweet, but zero help.”

Alexandra grinned. “Classic man answer. You need a wedding committee.”

And like the universe heard her—

“Wedding committee for what?”

We both looked up to see Carmen strolling in like a vision—perfect white linen pants, hair swept back effortlessly, smile knowing. Behind her, George followed, sunglasses on, drink in hand, already looking like he regretted walking into this conversation.

“I heard the words ‘ceremony’ and ‘not boring,’” Carmen said as she took a seat next to you. “So obviously, I had to insert myself.”

“God, please do,” I laughed. “You and Alexandra might be my only hope.”

Alexandra turned the screen toward Carmen, who gasped softly. “This dress board is stunning. And those florals… wait—are you thinking Italy or Monaco?”

“Leaning Italy,” I admitted. “Somewhere that still feels connected to home, but gives us room for… everything.”

“Everything meaning ‘half the grid and your entire family,’” George muttered, dropping into a chair and sipping his drink.

I grinned. “Exactly.”

Carmen elbowed him gently. “You’re not getting out of this, George. You’re going to be in a tux and clapping by the aisle like a proud uncle.”

He raised an eyebrow. “Uncle? At my age?”

“You give off ‘I help the ring bearer tie his shoes’ energy,” Alexandra teased.

I burst out laughing. “It’s true. You’re the responsible one.”

George looked mildly offended. “I’m fun. Ask anyone.”

“Sure,” Carmen said, patting his knee. “Fun with a checklist and backup champagne flutes.”

I looked around the circle of people—two women who had quickly become my inner circle in a world full of chaos, and one slightly flustered, extremely well-dressed F1 driver who was already checking flights to Tuscany on his phone.

“God, I love you all,” I said, genuinely.

Carmen leaned closer, nudging me with her shoulder. “We love you too. And we’re going to make sure this wedding is everything you’ve ever dreamed of.”

“And maybe just a little bit dramatic,” Alexandra added, sipping her iced espresso. “Because let’s be real—Charles is going to cry.”

George made a noise like he was trying not to laugh and failing.

“Oh, he’ll cry,” I said, smirking. “But only after Lando does first.”

“Wait—who’s walking you down the aisle?” Carmen asked suddenly.

My face softened, and I shrugged. “We haven’t decided yet. Might be Charles. Or maybe we walk together. You know—twins, born together, life-long chaos.”

“Ugh,” Alexandra said, fake-sniffling. “That’s going to wreck everyone.”

Carmen wiped under her eye with her pinky. “I’m crying already.”

George stood up dramatically. “Okay, I’m going back to tires and brake ducts where things make sense.”

“Bring us cake samples next time,” Alexandra called after him.

“I’m not your wedding butler!”

“Yes, you are!” all three of us replied in sync.

—

I later received a text from Carmen talking about how George hadn’t stopped talking about wedding venues and had called at least 3 already.

—

dr_jules_leclerc

italy 📍

liked by charles_leclerc, oscarpiastri, alexalbon & 5,368,568 others.

dr_jules_leclerc : trip to italy with the wedding committee—ft a dress I did not buy:)

& thank you to my whole wedding committee— I wouldn’t be able to do it without you❤️

extra special thanks to kika and both my lily’s who showed up to surprise me right before the dress fitting this morning (I cried so hard)

—

alexandrasaintmleux : you looked so beautiful in each and every dress— I am so excited for this beautiful day 🤍

liked by author and lando

dr_jules_leclerc : my beautiful maid of honor <3

username : OHENSNHX she made alex her MOH - her and charles and def endgame

username2 : omg george went

georgerussell63 : of course I did and I am like the lead planner

liked by author

georgerussell63 : I take my title very seriously

georgerussell63 : wedding planner extraordinaire first, f1 driver second

liked by author and lando

lilyzneimer : you looked absolutely stunning, my love! so happy to be a part of this wedding💘

liked by author

dr_jules_leclerc : thank you sm for making the trip—it means so much to me ❤️❤️

lilyzneimer : thank oscar- he managed to find the flight last minute 😚

dr_jules_leclerc : oscarpiastri I love you. thank you for giving me your beautiful girlfriend

liked by oscarpiastri and lilyzneimer

oscarpiastri : Anything for the bride!

liked by author and lando

charles_leclerc : i just came because i wanted to eat some pasta and i was jealous arthur was going

charles_leclerc : oh and to see where my money is going

dr_jules_leclerc : your money??

charles_leclerc : yes, my money. you are the bride..you will not pay for a thing, princesse.

dr_jules_leclerc : i alr paid for my dress

charles_leclerc : no you didn’t, i had alex give the attendant my card.

alexandrasaintmleux: 😁😁😁

dr_jules_leclerc : alex !!!! well thank you cha,, i love you so much

liked by charles_leclerc

leclerc_pascale : So much fun!❤️

liked by author

flonorris1 : you looked SO beautiful- mom and i love the dress ❤️

liked by author and lando

dr_jules_leclerc : you guys making this trip absolutely means the world to me— i love you both

ciscanorris : We would not have missed it for the world. Love you!

liked by author and lando

lilymhe : Such a beautiful bride! I am so happy for you and even happier to be part of such beautiful day.

liked by author

dr_jules_leclerc : I love you so much—thank you for making the trip 🥹🥹

lilymhe : Absolutely, anything for you😚

liked by author

lando : so excited to make you mine forever

liked by author

dr_jules_leclerc : i love you more than anything

carmenmmundt : Genuinely had so much fun on this trip. I am so excited for you and honored to be such a big part of your special day🤍

liked by author

dr_jules_leclerc : thank you so much for all your help— i love you carms

francisca.cgomes : wouldn’t have missed it for the world !! ily angel

liked by author

dr_jules_leclerc : my keeeeks 😍

scuderiaferrari : You look stunning, Jules!😍

liked by author

formula1 : So excited for an F1 wedding!

liked by author

arthur_leclerc : Can’t wait for this epic party and to watch Charles cry his eyes out

liked by author

charles_leclerc : I’m not going to cry, Arthur.

alexandrasaintmleux: yeah right

lando : anyone want to make bets on how long it’ll take him to cry??

maxverstappen1 : put me down for 30 seconds

pierregasly : he will be crying before the wedding even starts

charles_leclerc : guys this is rude

—

Alexandra, Carmen and I were all sat at a local cafe in Milan—sipping away at cappuccinos and conversing about the special occasion. The boys were at the beach for the day and Maman and Cisca were off having a motherly speak. My dress fitting was in about two hours and I could not be more excited. I snapped out of my thoughts as a taxi stopped in front of the cafe. I noticed Alex and Carmen give each other a look. Out of the taxi came Kika and both Lily’s. I stood up in shock and they all gave me a huge smile.

“Surprise!” They shouted as Kika came over and pulled me into a hug.

“I can’t believe you guys.” I mumbled into her shoulder as I started to cry.

“We wouldn’t miss this for the world.” Lily Z said as she pulled me into a tight hug.

“I love you all so much. I am so happy you’re here.” I said and Lily squeezed my hand.

“Let’s go find you a dress, beautiful!” Carmen cheered.

—

The boutique was tucked away in a quiet corner of Milan—private, sunlit, and impossibly elegant. The kind of place where time felt slower and fabric whispered secrets.

Our group made it into the boutique now including Maman and Cisca as well.

“Dr. Leclerc, so great to see you! Welcome ladies!” The attendant stated and reached out to shake my hand. I gave her a warm smile and extended my hand.

“Thank you, thank you.” I said and looked around in awe.

“Take a seat on the couch ladies and I will bring out the champagne.” She said with a smile. She quickly brought out a large cart with several champagne bottles and flutes. She popped open the first bottle and started handing out champagne.

“You ready to try the first one?” She asked with a warm smile. I nodded and followed her back. I slipped on the dress and she helped zip me up.

It was beautiful, sure. Layers of delicate tulle, floral embroidery, a sweeping train. When I stepped out, everyone gasped—Carmen actually clapped.

“Oh, wow,” Lily said. “That’s really—princess.”

I looked at myself in the mirror. It was sweet. Dreamy. But… maybe too sweet?

Alexandra tilted her head. “It’s beautiful, but not you yet.”

Kika nodded. “I agree. I want something that makes Lando forget how to speak.”

“Or breathe,” Carmen added.

I laughed, “Let’s try the next one.”

It was modern. Clean lines, low back, subtle shimmer. I stepped out and heard Cisca suck in a quiet breath.

“Mon dieu,” maman whispered, hand on her heart.

Alexandra’s mouth dropped open. “Oh. Oh, we’re getting somewhere.”

But I looked in the mirror and didn’t feel that spark. It was almost right. But not quite.

I turned to the stylist and said, “One more?”

I knew before you even saw myself.

The way the fabric hugged and flowed, the way the lace trailed along my arms like ivy, the tiny pearl buttons down the back. A soft champagne hue that made my skin glow, and a structured bodice that made me feel—powerful.

When I stepped out of the fitting room, the whole room went silent.

Even Alexandra lowered her phone slowly.

Maman’s hand flew to her lips. “Oh…”

Cisca teared up immediately. “That’s it. That’s you.”

Carmen had her head tilted, her mascara already smudging. “He’s going to be a puddle.”

Kika reached out and gently took my hand. “This is the one. You can’t even pretend it’s not.”

Lily was already snapping photos, but her hands were a little shaky.

I turned to the mirror, and finally… finally, I saw it too.

Not just the dress.

The day.

The moment. The aisle. The vows. Lando.

I stepped down off the platform slowly, and when I turned back to them, my voice wavered.

“I think I just found my forever dress.”

—

The villa was quiet now.

Everyone had left to go explore after the wedding dress try-on. The laughter, the teasing, the champagne—all had settled into the soft hum of evening. The golden haze of the sunset spilled into the living room, casting warm light across the walls.

I found Charles and Arthur on the balcony, where they always seemed to end up—two silhouettes leaning against the railing, shoulders almost touching, quietly watching the sea.

I stepped outside, a sweater wrapped around my shoulders, something small and delicate clenched in my hand.

Charles noticed me first. “Hey,” he said gently, like he already knew something was on my mind.

“Hey,” I replied, voice quiet. “Can I sit?”

Arthur gestured to the seat between them. “You don’t have to ask.”

I sat, pulling my knees up just slightly, looking out at the horizon with them. For a moment, none of us spoke.

Just the three of you. Together.

Just like it had always been.

Until it wasn’t.

“I was thinking about Papa today,” I said softly. “When I put on that last dress, I just… I pictured him. Standing at the end of the aisle. Looking proud. Crying before I even reached him.”

Arthur’s breath hitched quietly beside me.

Charles didn’t say anything at first—but I could feel the shift in his presence, the ache he tried so hard to keep tucked beneath the surface.

“I miss him,” I whispered. “Especially now.”

Charles reached over, took my hand gently. “So do we.”

I swallowed around the lump in my throat, glancing down at the small object in my other hand—a silver cufflink of your father’s. I had found it last week in a drawer I hadn’t opened in years. His initials were still engraved on the surface, slightly worn.

I set it between the three of us.

“I know he can’t be there,” I said. “But I still want to feel like a part of him is walking with me.”

Arthur reached forward slowly, thumb brushing the cufflink. His voice was thick. “You don’t even have to ask, Jules.”

I looked up at him.

“I want you both to walk me down the aisle,” I said, the words finally leaving my chest, full of meaning. “You’re the men who’ve always been there for me. Always protected me. Made me laugh when I couldn’t breathe. Helped me be strong when all I wanted was to break.”

Charles’s eyes were glassy now, but he didn’t look away. “We would be honored.”

Arthur cleared his throat roughly. “You sure? We’ll probably cry like babies.”

I smiled through the tears that were now freely falling down my cheeks. “I’m counting on it.”

Charles leaned over, wrapping one arm around me, the other reaching to tug Arthur into the hug too. “Papa would be so proud of you,” he said, voice barely more than a whisper.

“And of you both,” I added, holding them tighter. “He raised the best men I know.”

We stayed like that—arms looped around each other, letting the silence hold the memories, the grief, the love, and the promise of what was to come.

And when the sun finally dipped below the water, it didn’t feel quite so heavy.

Because I was not walking into forever alone.

I was walking with my brothers.

With him.

With all the love in the world at my side.

—

something blue

The sun had long dipped beneath the Monaco horizon, but I am out on the terrace, wrapped in a blanket.

Charles came outside a little later—quieter now, less joking, more thoughtful. His hair was windswept from the breeze, and in his hand, he carried a small, square velvet box.

He didn’t say anything at first. Just sat beside me and placed it gently in my lap.

I blinked lightly, “What is this Cha?”

He didn’t look at me right away, just watched the waves below. “I’ve had it for a few weeks. Was waiting for the right moment.”

I slowly opened the box.

Inside was a necklace—thin, delicate rose gold, with a single pendant: a deep blue diamond, oceanic and vivid, nestled in a subtle halo of tiny white stones. My breath caught in my throat.

“Charles…”

“It’s your something blue,” he said, softly. “And a little piece of Papa, too.”

I looked at him, eyes already burning.

“It’s Corsican,” he continued. “Found a small jeweler near where he used to take us every summer. I told her what it was for. She helped me design it.”

The tears welled without warning, spilling over as my fingers brushed the smooth edge of the stone.

“I just thought…” Charles swallowed hard. “If he can’t be there to walk you down the aisle, he should at least be with you. Close to your heart.”

I threw my arms around him before he could finish the sentence.

“I don’t deserve you,” I whispered, voice cracking.

“Don’t be ridiculous,” he murmured, holding me tightly. “I’m the lucky one. I get to be your twin. Your best man by default.”

We both laughed through the tears, leaning into each other like we always had—two halves of one whole, shaped by grief, love, and the promise of a new beginning.

As he helped me clasp the necklace around my neck, the blue diamond settled just above my heart.

And somehow, it felt like our father was right there.

Watching.

Smiling.

Proud.

—

something new

I hadn’t expected to run into Arthur this afternoon. I was just popping by my childhood home in Monaco—checking in on maman, sipping coffee in the warm spring sun—when the front door creaked open and my youngest brother stepped inside.

“Hey,” he smiled, setting down a paper bag from the bakery. “Didn’t know you’d be here.”

I grinned and opened my arms without hesitation. “Lucky for you then.”

He hugged me quickly, but tight, like he always had. His own quiet way of saying I missed you without using the words.

Over coffee at the kitchen counter, I caught him up on the latest wedding details—Lando’s bizarre obsession with cake flavors, Charles’ stubborn opinions on music for the reception, my near meltdown over the seating chart.

Arthur laughed, leaning back in his chair. “Sounds like it’s going to be a beautiful disaster.”

“Pretty much,” I smirked.

Then he hesitated.

“I, um—actually brought something for you,” he said, standing and reaching into his bag again. “It’s early. Way early. But I’ve been working on it for a while. Wanted you to have it before all the chaos starts.”

I tilted my head as he placed a slim box in front of me, wrapped in soft white paper with a navy blue ribbon.

Slowly, I unwrapped it.

Inside was a silver bracelet—delicate but clearly handmade, etched with the tiniest constellation along the band. And in the center, a single charm: a tiny star, inlaid with a pearl.

My chest tightened immediately.

“The constellation,” I whispered. “It’s…”

“It’s the one over Monaco the night you were born,” Arthur said quietly. “I had it engraved. It’s your something new. I know it’s not super fancy, but…”

“Arthur,” I breathed, reaching over to grab his hand. “It’s perfect.”

He flushed slightly, giving my fingers a squeeze. “I just… I know I’m the one walking you down the aisle. But I wanted you to have something from me..just me. Something that’s just… ours.”

I didn’t even try to fight the tears this time. I stood and pulled him into a full hug, burying my face in his shoulder.

“I love you so much,” I whispered.

“I know,” he mumbled, hugging me tighter. “I love you more.”

I slipped the bracelet on right then and there, the star charm resting just above my wrist.

It reminded me of the brother who saw me clearly, always had.

And on my wedding day, it would be my something new.

From someone who had always been part of my heart.

—

something borrowed

It was just the two of us in the quiet of her bedroom—the soft hum of old music playing from the radio in the background, the faint scent of lavender clinging to the air like it always had.

I was only available for the weekend, a short visit tucked between hospital shifts and wedding preparations. But Maman had insisted: “There’s something I want to give you, ma chérie. Something important.”

Now, I sat across from her on the edge of the bed as she opened an old wooden jewelry box. The hinges creaked softly, like they were remembering too.

“I was going to wait until closer to the wedding,” she said, fingers gently lifting something from the velvet lining. “But I’ve been holding onto this for so long, I think it’s time.”

She turned, and in her hands was a lace handkerchief, delicately folded, with the tiniest embroidery in the corner—faded blue thread stitched into a small heart and some initials.

“This was mine,” she said softly. “I carried it the day I married your father. It belonged to my own mother before me.”

She placed it gently in my hands. The fabric was worn but soft, the lace fragile but intact—timeless.

“I cried into this when I said my vows,” she added with a small smile. “And when you and Charles were born. His first F1 race. And the day you first wore your white coat.”

I blinked quickly, my chest tightening as I clutched it carefully.

“It’s beautiful,” I whispered. “Are you sure?”

“I want you to borrow it,” she said, placing a hand over yours. “For your day. Tuck it into your bouquet or wrap it around your wrist—just keep it close. It holds more than just tears, Jules. It holds love. Generations of it.”

I leaned forward instinctively, pressing my forehead to hers, just like you used to when you were small.

“Thank you, Maman.”

I smiled through misty eyes, cupping my cheek. “You carry all of us with you, ma belle fille. Always.”

And as I tucked the handkerchief back into its box with careful fingers, I already knew—it would be with me when I walked down the aisle. A piece of her heart, of her story, gently folded into my own.

—

something old

It was a quiet Sunday afternoon at the Norris family home. I was curled up in the sunroom with a cup of tea, sunlight streaming across the floor, and laughter from Flo and Lando echoing faintly from down the hall.

Cisca entered the room like she always did—soft-footed, composed, with that light in her eyes she often reserved just for me. I looked up, smiling.

“You okay?” I asked, shifting slightly to give her space on the couch.

She nodded. “More than okay. Just… a little sentimental today.”

She sat down beside me, her hands gently clutching a small cream-colored box wrapped in a pale ribbon. She offered it to you with a soft smile.

“I’ve been holding onto this for a while,” she said, her voice quiet, almost shy. “And I think now is the right time.”

I looked at her curiously before unwrapping it.

Inside, nestled in tissue paper, was a vintage silver locket—slightly weathered by time, with intricate floral etching across its surface. I opened it carefully, and inside were two tiny photographs: one of a young Lando, barely four, with his bright smile already unmistakable… and on the other side, a picture of Cisca as a young woman, her eyes looking almost exactly like Lando’s.

“This was my grandmother’s,” she said gently. “She passed it down to me when I had Lando. It’s been through every important moment in my life—tucked into my pocket when I left the hospital with him for the first time, worn at his karting races, even held in my palm the day he left for his first Grand Prix.”

I looked up at her, eyes stinging.

“It’s beautiful.”

She gave me a smile that wavered with emotion. “I want you to have it, for your wedding day. As your something old. It’s a small piece of our family, of the love that’s shaped Lando into who he is. And now… it’s part of yours, too.”

I reached over without thinking, wrapping her in a warm, tearful hug—the kind that went both ways. The kind that meant thank you for loving me like this.

“I promise I’ll take care of it,” I whispered. “And him.”

“I know you will,” she murmured, her voice soft against my shoulder. “That’s why I’m giving it to you.”

And as I sat there, fingers brushing over the locket’s surface, it felt like a promise stitched in silver—one that tied the past to my future, with love resting gently in between.

—

dr_jules_leclerc just posted!

liked by lilymhe, alexandrasaintmleux, lilyzneimer & 5,356,134 others.

dr_jules_leclerc : bach weekend with my angels

tagged : alexandrasaintmleux, lilymhe, lilyzneimer, carmenmmundt, francisca.cgomes, charlotte2304, flonorris1, ciscanorris1

alexandrasaintmleux : so so much fun celebrating the most beautiful bride on the planet

liked by author

dr_jules_leclerc : so blessed to have a beautiful maid of honor who planned it all

charlotte2304 : Cannot believe my beautiful sister is a bride!!🤍

liked by author

lilyzneimer : love you j<3

liked by author

georgerussell63 : still petty I didn’t get an invite

liked by author

arthur_leclerc : same

charles_leclerc : same

lando : same

georgerussell63 : I HAVE BEEN DOING SO MUCH PLANNING - YOU ALL HAVE DONE NOTHING — I DESERVED IT

liked by author

lando : hey buddy i gave her the ring in the first place

charles_leclerc : I’m literally her twin bffr

dr_jules_leclerc : you guys literally had a party..why so jealous?

arthur_leclerc : it was not as much fun as you guys had and Lando was just whining because he missed you the entire time

dr_jules_leclerc : aw lan

lando : come home now pls

dr_jules_leclerc : getting on the plane now bub

lilymhe : sad ur not marrying me but so so happy to be your bridesmaid 💘

liked by author

carmenmmundt : omg we are so close to the big day!! i love you bunches

liked by author

flonorris1 : genuinely so much fun- so excited to have you as a sister (officially)!

liked by author

francisca.cgomes : i love you to the moon and back— prettiest bride ever

liked by author

—

part five — complete 💐💐

thank you to @1800-love-me for the great idea of something borrowed—blue etc

let me know of any requests and any ideas of another series as this one will probably be coming to an end soon

thank you for all the support loves!

[thefreakandthehair]

jacket.

written for @steddieholidaydrabbles | prompts: jacket | wc: 999 | rating: teen & up | tags: alternate universe- no upside down, alternate universe- coffee shop au, different first meeting, musician!Eddie (if you squint), barista!Steve, platonic stobin, meddling Robin, flirting, fluff, getting together, requited pining

“Need me to grab the mop bucket?” Robin asks, leaning forward and into his field of vision. 

Steve snaps back into reality from an elongated daydream to find Robin staring at him, grinning maniacally. 

“Did I spill something?” He checks around the back of the display case, finding nothing.

“No, you’re just drooling, that’s all.” Robin shrugs and claps him on the shoulder. “You ever gonna talk to him?” 

“I talk to him every day, Rob—” Steve starts but doesn’t get to finish because the Him in question appears.

A chill blows through the door along with him, a dusting of snow stuck to his sneakers and dotting the shoulders of his leather jacket. Steve’s not sure how he’s even wearing that thing over what looks to be several layers of teeshirts and under a thick, denim vest laden with hand stitched patches. 

“That’s not what I mean and you know it,” Robin whispers and scurries away, smirking. 

He hates her. 

He loves her, but he hates her. 

“Hey, Eddie,” Steve welcomes his favorite customer, feigning normalcy because he’s anything but normal about this man he can’t stop fucking daydreaming about. “What’ll you have today?”

“Hmm,” Eddie ponders, throwing his jacket over the back of his usual chair at a bistro table by the window. “What was that gingerbread whatever the fuck you made yesterday?” 

Steve laughs, his nose crinkling. “I don’t think that’s what it’s called but if that’s what you want, I can make it for you.”

“Sign me up, big boy. Give me something hot and sweet,” Eddie winks and hands Steve a few dollar bills, their fingers grazing. Steve’s heart thumps in his chest as he tries to remember how to work the stupid cash register. Eddie pockets his change and heads over to the small table. 

Steve does his best not to stare, but the coffee shop is quiet today and he can only pretend to clean the countertop so many times until that becomes more obvious than Steve just… looking. So he looks. 

Like every other day for the last few months, Eddie whips out a notebook and sips the sugary abomination as he writes. Tapping his pen against the laminate of the table, scratching his chin, watching out the window, and then writing in unpredictable bursts only to repeat the cycle again and again. Steve doesn’t know anything about Eddie and asking what he’s working on in this private little notebook feels invasive. 

Not that he doesn’t wonder out loud when Eddie’s not around— it’s why Robin won’t stop teasing him. 

The snow continues to fall, sparkly fat flakes that stick to the sidewalk as Eddie works, and writes, and taps his pen just loud enough for Steve to make over the low hum of the holiday music they’re forced to play. 

“Fuck!” Eddie shouts, startling Steve out of his thoughts as he scrambles to shove the notebook into his bag. “Sorry, I’m just, I’m late for a really important practice and just realized the time. Thanks for the coffee, Steve!” 

“You’re wel—” The bell over the door chimes before he can finish the word, “—come.”

“Goddamn it,” Steve sighs. 

“Still nothing?” Robin pokes her head out from the backroom where she’d stayed hidden for absolutely no reason. 

“No, Robin. Still nothing. He’s a customer and I don’t wanna be a creep, okay?” 

“It didn’t stop you when we worked at the ice cream parlor. Or the video store. Or the—”

“I’ve evolved! Give me some credit!”  

“Oh, look!” Robin ignores him and walks past him to grab a leather jacket off of the back of Eddie’s chair. “He left his jacket! You can start a conversation when he comes back for it, right?” 

“Who do you think I am? Cinderella?” Steve laughs, but takes the jacket all the time. 

Robin rolls her eyes. “Well, technically, he’d be Cinderella. He left this jacket behind like some sort of metalhead glass slipper.”

“Let me try again: who do you think I am? A fucking Disney prince?”

“You could be if you tried harder.”

Steve doesn’t respond, just shakes his head again and quietly takes the jacket home with him for safekeeping. He’ll give it back to Eddie tomorrow, and maybe Robin will stop making jokes about Disney movies. 

Except Eddie doesn’t come back the next day. 

Or the day after that. 

A week passes, and Eddie still hasn’t come back for his jacket or his daily coffee that’s more syrup than coffee, but Steve keeps the jacket, brings it back and forth to and from work every day for over a week. 

It’s a bitterly cold morning when Steve eventually breaks. Eddie’s leather jacket hangs over his arm, like it has every morning, and he stops at a crosswalk to throw it on over his own bomber jacket. Warm and rich, he lifts the top collar up over his face to protect his frozen nose and inhales the remnants of smoke and musk. 

When he finally makes it to the shop, he breathes a sigh of relief that Robin cranked the thermostat. 

“There it is,” a familiar voice pops up behind him. “I thought I left it here.” 

Steve’s not cold anymore, hot embarrassment flushing from his chest to his cheeks as he turns around and sees Eddie there, sitting at a table with his notebook and a smile. 

“I was— I wasn’t—” He sputters. 

“Robin told me, don’t worry. Why don’t you uh, why don’t you hang onto it today and maybe give it back to me tonight? Over dinner, if you’re free?”

He can’t even be mad when Robin looks at him from over the counter with a very conspicuous thumbs up. 

“Yeah! Yeah, I’m free,” Steve agrees, maybe a bit too quickly but subtly has never been his strong suit. 

“Oh, and Steve?”

“Yeah?”

“You should wear the jacket,” Eddie's face flushes as he pulls a lock of hair just in front of his lips. “It looks great on you.

[forzarma]

Between the lines

Lando Norris x Law student!reader

A/N: ok amma just act like i didn’t ghost this app for months and came out if nowhere but here we are ig. Also the Brazilian gp??? What the heck like wild race istg😭

It all started one night in Monaco, on a break from law school. You were on vacation with a friend, celebrating the rare freedom that came with a brief pause in your intense study schedule. A night at the casino was not usually your scene, but your friend had insisted.

After about an hour, she’d struck up a flirtatious conversation with some guy who’d been lingering by the bar. You waved her off, telling her you’d be fine, and took a seat on your own near a roulette table.

That’s when he walked up. Unassuming at first, with that messy hair and a slightly cocky smile that had “trouble” written all over it.

“Mind if I join you?” he asked, a hint of an accent in his voice.

You shrugged, amused. “Go for it. But I’m not particularly good at this.”

He chuckled. “Neither am I.”

You exchanged a few more jokes, but it didn’t take long for him to introduce himself, giving you his number in a smooth, unhurried way.

“Lando,” he said, his eyes glinting with mischief.

You stashed the number away without much thought. It was only the next day, when you mentioned the encounter to your little sister over FaceTime, that you realized who he actually was.

“Some guy named Lando gave me his number at the casino,” you’d said offhandedly. Her jaw dropped.

“Wait, Lando who??.”

You blinked, stunned, and then laughed. “I don’t know, apparently he’s famous”

“so it’s lando fucking norris what” she said wide eyed

She rolled her eyes, muttering, “Only my sister would be this oblivious to F1 drivers. I’ve been a die-hard fan since I was, like, ten, and you meet one without even knowing?”

From there, you let yourself get to know him, intrigued by how normal he seemed compared to the hype you’d suddenly realized surrounded him. When he asked you out, you thought, why not? You were used to focusing on your studies and keeping your personal life private, so it didn’t seem like much would change. But with Lando, everything was different.

-

Months later, you’d fallen into an unexpected but steady rhythm with Lando. Despite his career, he managed to keep things low-key. Neither of you posted much about each other. Hell, you barely posted anything at all. You were still a law student with a private life, and the last thing you wanted was for the whole world to know who you were dating.

One evening, you were lying on his couch, scrolling through your phone, when Lando turned to you with a sly grin.

“Babe, you know… you’re eventually gonna get caught, right? Someone’s going to snap a picture of us, and then the cat’s out of the bag,” he teased, nudging your leg with his.

You groaned, rolling your eyes. “Oh, sure, because every random person with a camera is just dying to know who you’re dating.”

He snickered, leaning in closer. “Maybe. But you know, it could be kinda nice… to go out sometimes. Like, properly. We don’t have to make a big deal of it.”

You hesitated, biting your lip. As much as you loved being with him, the idea of being recognized—or worse, photographed—made you cringe. Your accounts were private, your life simple, and you weren’t sure how you’d feel about people seeing you with him.

But, at the same time, you knew it wasn’t fair to keep him hidden away forever. So, you took a deep breath and gave him a small smile. “What if we make a deal?”

His eyebrows shot up in interest. “I’m listening.”

“You can have me at the paddock,” you said, already dreading the idea. “But my accounts stay private, no tags, no ‘girlfriend reveals’ on Instagram. I’ll show up, I’ll be there for you but I’m not trying to become some celebrity.”

He grinned, leaning in to kiss you softly. “Deal. Although I can’t promise you won’t end up in a couple of team photos. You know how they love to catch every damn moment.”

You chuckled, trying not to think too hard about what you were signing up for.

-

A couple of weeks later, you were lying in bed with Lando, scrolling mindlessly through Instagram, when you felt a pang of guilt.

“I never actually told you about my sister,” you said suddenly.

“Oh?” He looked over at you with interest.

“Yeah, she’s been obsessed with F1 since she was like, ten,” you explained, laughing softly. “She’s begged me to take her to a race for years, but I was always too busy with school. Now she’s a full-on Ferrari fan… and she’s probably never going to forgive me for dating you.”

He grinned, intrigued. “A Ferrari fan, huh? That’s rough. Maybe I can convince her to switch sides.”

You snorted. “Good luck. She’s already sworn allegiance to Sebastian Vettel. In her words, McLaren’s colors are ‘an offense to her soul.’”

Lando laughed, shaking his head. “Well, in that case, we’ll have to win her over somehow. Why don’t we bring her to a race? I’ll make sure she gets the best seats, full experience,

You raised an eyebrow, surprised. “She’d lose her mind. Seriously. Are you sure? Because I can tell you right now, she’d never root for McLaren.

“Absolutely,” he said, squeezing your hand. “If she’s as big a fan as you say, she deserves a proper race weekend. Plus, I think it’s time we officially break her ‘Ferrari-only’ heart.”

-

On race day, you and Lando arrived at the paddock, and immediately, heads turned. You’d chosen a classic, chic outfit and despite your initial nerves, you managed to keep your cool.

You spotted your sister down the row, and her jaw dropped as soon as she saw you. She approached, barely able to contain her excitement, though she shot a mock glare at Lando.

“Such a shame I don’t like McLaren,” she said, her tone dripping with sarcasm.

“Yeah, yeah,” he replied with a grin. “You just wait. One lap, and you’ll be a fan.”

She rolled her eyes, but you could tell she was thrilled, practically bouncing on her heels as she looked around at the spectacle. She turned to you, eyes wide with disbelief. “You’re really here… at a race. I don’t know whether to thank you or disown you.”

You laughed, nudging her playfully. “I’m still not a fan, if that helps.”

She huffed, pretending to be offended. “I guess I’ll forgive you. But only if you bring me every single time from now on.”

The rest of the day passed in a blur of cameras, fans, and the hum of engines. You couldn’t deny the rush of excitement that came with being part of the chaos, even if it meant being in the public eye. And when you saw your sister’s face, completely lit up as she took in every second, it felt worth it.

-

The relationship slowly became public, just as you and Lando had agreed. You kept your accounts locked down, but fans began to recognize you, and a few photos of you two at the paddock circulated on social media.

Your sister stayed true to her Ferrari fandom, texting you regularly to tease you about your “betrayal.” But every now and then, you’d catch her slipping in a comment about McLaren usually something along the lines of, “Okay, that car looks pretty badass.”

One evening, Lando turned to you with a satisfied grin. “I think we’re doing alright, don’t you think?”

You looked around the Monaco apartment you’d somehow started calling “home” without even realizing it, at the life you’d built together. You leaned over, giving him a soft kiss. “Yeah, I think so, too.”

In the end, you realized you didn’t need to post, announce, or shout your relationship from the rooftops. Being there for each other was enough, even if it meant sharing some of the spotlight.

After all, Lando may have been the one the world wanted to see, but you were his, and that was more than enough.

[kiwriteswords]

Of course I have to request something for the florist story, I love it too much to not take part of it 👀 and I wanted to see some jealous Hotch like maybe he comes to the shop and see some customers flirting with reader (like you said in your last story, men will be men) but I’m letting you work your magical words on this I trust you a 100% ✨💛

Flowers in the Darkest Parts of You [Jealous!Aaron Hotchner x Florist!Reader]

Florist!Reader Masterlist|| Main Masterlist [I need to update this, sorry!]|| Ao3||Word Count: 2k|| AN:  THANK YOU FOR THIS, LOVELY! I hope you enjoy xo! Requests are open for all things florsit!reader only right now! Tags/Warnings: Female!Reader, Florist!Reader, Non-BAU!Reader, pre-relationship, slight angst, reader has commitment issues, reader has trust issues, hotch is possessive, jealous!hotch, Sassy!Reader, Flirty!Reader, mentions of intimate moments, dating, flirtatious customer Summary:  Aaron Hotchner has no right to get jealous over your customers flirting with you, but when you're hesitant to put a label on things, he feels at a loss...a jealous loss.

The sheets were still warm.

The room smelled like you--

Your perfume lingering in the air, subtle and floral, mixed with candle wax and the crisp, expensive detergent Hotch insisted on using for every item in his pristine linen closet.

It had been another perfect night. Dinner at a quiet, hidden bistro tucked into a Georgetown alleyway. You wore that deep green silk dress he hadn’t stopped looking at all night. You smiled at him over wine glasses and teased him about his choice in appetizers, and he listened to you like the world didn’t exist beyond your voice.

And then this.

Back in his apartment, the rest of the night unfolding like it always did. Unrushed. Reverent. Magical.

Fairytale, even.

But fairytales ended. Always.

And you, like clockwork, were already sitting up in bed, hair messy and cheeks still flushed, reaching for your dress on the chair by the closet.

Hotch turned onto his side, resting his head in one hand, watching you with quiet confusion, an ache forming behind his ribs.

“You don’t have to leave,” he said softly.

You smiled over your shoulder, already stepping into your dress. “I know.”

He pushed himself up slightly, the sheets pooling at his waist. “So…don’t.”

You hesitated--only for a second--but it was long enough for him to catch it.

“We’ve done this, what…six, seven times now?” he asked. He wasn’t angry. Just tired. “You come back here, we spend these incredible nights together, and then you leave like none of it means anything.”

You paused by the mirror, smoothing the fabric of your dress. “It does mean something.”

“Then why won’t you stay?” His voice cracked, just a bit. “Why is it always my place, always your exit plan ready? You never let me into yours. You never let me wake up with you.”

You turned to face him, crossing your arms.

“Aaron--”

“No,” he said gently, but firmly. “I’m not asking for a key to your apartment or to meet your family or anything insane. I’m just asking…what are we doing? Because it feels real to me. It feels serious.”

Your expression shifted. Guarded. The playful sparkle he loved so much flickered out like a flame.

“I told you from the beginning I don’t do fairytales,” you said, voice low.

“This isn’t a fairytale,” he said quietly. “It’s us.”

You opened your mouth to respond, then shut it again. You picked up your purse instead.

“I should go.”

“Why?” His voice stopped you. “Because I care too much? Because I’m not playing games?”

You turned back around slowly. “Because I am.”

That stunned him into silence.

You exhaled, and the truth came tumbling out--not bitter, not angry, just...tired.

“I’ve seen men like you walk into my shop for years, Aaron. Gentlemen with wedding rings and lies. Men who say all the right things until you believe them, until you’re left holding the flowers you arranged for your own heartbreak. I know what it’s like to give someone everything and watch them turn it into nothing.”

“I’m not--”

“I know you’re not really like them,” you said, cutting him off, voice trembling. “That’s the problem.”

He stared at you, heart pounding.

“You’re good. You’re really good.” You looked down, then met his eyes again. “And if I let this become real...and you changed your mind later, or realized you weren’t ready, or that I wasn’t enough--” Your breath caught. “I wouldn’t survive it.”

Hotch swallowed hard, his own voice rough. “You think I’d do that to you?”

Whatever past you carried--

It was heavy. 

And confusing.

It was written all over your face and in every wall at that floral shop. 

“I don’t think,” you whispered. “I fear.”

Silence stretched between you like a thread, ready to snap.

You reached for the doorknob, your back to him now.

“I’ll call you tomorrow,” you said, voice soft. He wanted to badly to point out your hesitation. The profiler in him screaming to call you out. Call your bluff. Point out what may actually be pulling you away.

But…but--

Hotch didn’t stop you.

He looked around to his dresser, where a petite arrangement sat in a tall, skinny vase. A long delphinium peaked out the top. You’d given it to him the other day when he popped into your shop. 

The door clicked behind you.

And he lay back down in his bed, alone again, the empty side still warm with the ghost of you.

The next day?

Hotch’s phone rang just after lunch.

He saw your name flash across the screen and felt his stomach twist. Not from nerves exactly--

Just from the leftover ache of watching you slip out his door the night before, heels clicking against hardwood like punctuation.

He answered on the second ring.

“Hotchner.”

“Wow,” you teased, your voice bright and breezy like nothing had happened. “Very formal.”

He leaned back in his chair, already suspicious of the easy tone. “I’m at work.”

“Well, yeah. So am I,” you said, a little sing-songy. “Just thought I’d call and say...hi.”

His silence prompted a softer exhale from your end.

“And to say I’m sorry. For last night.”

He didn’t interrupt.

“I have some things I need to work on,” you continued, quieter now. “And I know that’s not fair to you. But the men I’m usually surrounded by? They don’t tend to be great. You showing up in my life the way you did--it’s been a bit of a whirlwind. I’m still catching my breath.”

Ah.

There it was.

The honesty he’d been craving, sitting right under that polished charm you always wore so well.

He closed his eyes for a second. “Thank you for saying that.”

“I mean it,” you added. “And I don’t know if I’ll ever be great at this…but if you have a little patience, I’d like to try.”

He smiled just slightly, something soft blooming in his chest. “I’ve got plenty of patience.”

And that should’ve been it--

One of those delicate, rare moments where you cracked open just enough for him to see inside.

But then…

“Hey there, flower queen,” a male voice called in the background, far too loud and way too flirtatious. “Am I interrupting something, or can I steal your attention for a sec?”

Hotch straightened in his chair.

You cupped the receiver slightly and called back, amused, “Just a second, Melvin.”

Melvin?

Hotch blinked. “Melvin?”

“Mhm,” you said, voice still casual. “Regular customer.”

There was a clatter on your end--probably a vase, maybe a shelf--and then a muffled, “You look stunning today, by the way. That color on you is criminal.”

Hotch’s jaw ticked.

You didn’t flirt back, but you didn’t shut it down, either. 

Just let it pass with a low chuckle and a, “You picking up or just passing through?”

“Placing an order to pick up later,” Melvin said cheerfully. “But if you’ve got time later, I’d love to buy you a coffee.”

“I’ll check my schedule.

Hotch cleared his throat. 

Loudly.

You came back to the line. “Sorry about that. Just Melvin being Melvin.”

Hotch’s voice was perfectly calm. “Sounds like a fan.”

“He’s harmless,” you said breezily. “Anyway--thank you for hearing me out. I’ll talk to you later, okay?”

“Sure,” he said, clipped. “Talk soon.”

He hung up first.

Then sat in silence for a long moment, staring down at his desk.

Fucking Melvin.

Jesus Christ.

So there he was hours later. 

Boy, would he have to answer to the team later on this one. A lunch break outside of the office? One he likely would be longer than thirty minutes for? The way he stormed out? 

He didn’t mean to show up.

Okay, maybe he did.

(He so did.) 

Hotch told himself he was just out for a break, clearing his head, getting some air--but his feet took him straight to your shop before his brain could make a better decision.

The bell chimed overhead.

You looked up instantly, the softest smile forming on your lips. “Twice in two days? You’re gonna ruin your mysterious FBI reputation.”

He opened his mouth to reply--

 --and then saw him.

Melvin.

Late thirties, tan, perfectly tousled hair, wearing a bomber jacket over a well-fitted shirt that screamed tech money and oat milk lattes.

“Oh,” you said, noticing the shift in Hotch’s expression. “Melvin just came to pick up his order.”

Melvin turned, gave Hotch a once-over. “Hey. Sorry, didn’t see you there. You her brother or…?”

Ouch.

Hotch’s expression didn’t flinch. “No.”

Melvin raised his brows. “Ah. Got it.”

You were trying not to laugh.

“I just stopped by,” Hotch said, voice sharp but polite. “Thought I’d see the final version of what you’ve been working on.”

You gave him a curious look. “You…don’t even know what I’m working on.”

He met your gaze. “Doesn’t matter. You always make it look good.”

Melvin cleared his throat. “Well, this is getting a little cozy. I’ll get out of your hair.” He turned back to you. “Thanks again, gorgeous. You’re a miracle worker.”

“Of course,” you said easily, moving to the counter with his wrapped bouquet.

Melvin winked at you--winked--and then turned toward the door with a confident wave. “Catch you soon.”

The bell chimed again.

The door shut behind him.

Hotch didn’t speak for a moment. He just stared at the empty doorway like it personally offended him.

You slid your hands into the front of your apron, head tilted. “Something wrong?”

“No,” he said, a little too fast. “Just…curious.”

“About?”

You asked like you didn’t already know.

“Melvin.”

You grinned. “He’s a loyal customer.”

“He’s also annoyingly confident.”

You smirked. “Is that your profiler read?”

“He seems very interested in being more than just a loyal customer.”

You leaned a hip against the counter, studying him. “He flirts with everyone.”

“That doesn’t mean I like it.”

The silence that followed hung heavy, like pollen in thick air.

You arched a brow. “Jealous?”

Hotch didn’t answer.

Didn’t smirk. Didn’t brush it off.

He just looked at you with that quiet storm in his eyes, something raw barely kept under control.

He stepped closer--

Slowly, deliberately. 

Just enough that you had to tilt your chin up to hold his gaze. His voice, when he finally spoke, was low. 

Earnest. .

A little frayed at the edges.

“It’s hard,” he admitted. “Being with you like this. These perfect nights. The moments we almost feel like something real.”

You stayed still. Waiting.

“And then I see someone else walk in here,” he continued, “and I realize I have no right to be jealous. No right to feel possessive. Because you’re not...you’re not mine. Not officially.”

That hit harder than you expected.

Not because he was wrong--but because he was right.

“I don’t want to be the guy who tries to claim you,” he added, voice rough. “You’re your own person.You don’t belong to anyone. But that doesn’t mean I don’t wish you were mine sometimes. That I didn’t feel it--all the time.”

You swallowed, your throat suddenly tight.

He shook his head, stepping back an inch, like he’d said too much. “I’m sorry. I just…needed to say it.”

You reached across the counter slowly, brushing your fingers against his wrist.

“I never said I didn’t want to be yours,” you said softly. “I just said I’m scared of what happens when I am.”

Hotch looked at you like he was seeing you clearly for the first time.

Vulnerable. Real. Not the flirty, confident woman with a perfect bouquet and a quick joke--

But someone still deciding if she was allowed to believe in good men again.

You straightened, cleared your throat, bringing the moment back down to earth. “Besides,” you added, teasing just enough to ease the tension, “if you keep walking in here like this, glowering at Melvin, I might start charging you rent.”

He huffed a quiet laugh, some of the tension bleeding from his shoulders. “I’d pay it.”

But before he could step away, you leaned in slightly, voice barely above a whisper.

“For the record?” you said. “If I were…yours…Melvin wouldn’t stand a chance.”

His eyes darkened just a little.

And while he didn’t kiss you--not here, not now--he took your hand for a moment longer than he needed to.

Held it like a promise.

Tag List: @zaddyhotch @estragos @todorokishoe24 @looking1016  @khxna @rousethemouse @averyhotchner @reidfile @bernelflo @lover-of-books-and-tea @frickin-bats @sleepysongbirdsings @justyourusualash @person-005 @iyskgd @hiireadstuff @kcch-ns @alexxavicry @Sweethotchlogy @softtdaisy @stilestotherescue @superlegend216

[lara4eclipze]

— 𝓑utterflies

— ( ⏳️ ) you give me butterflies got me falling in the deep end of your disguise sparred with a hundred lies.

meret manon x fem reader, argument, swearing, hugging, established relationship, cheater!manon, swearing, wc [?], tags listed below

you really didn't want to be the type of person who is possessive nor easily jealous, yet nothing can hide manon's recent suspicious actions — it was at first simple things like going out with her friends or calling them frequently — but then this friend seemed to take all of manon's time

then she changed her password, which was not that big of a deal you can handle it, what hurt you the most was her forgetting very important things to you — like when you planned a date and she didn't even text you where she had been you stayed in that restaurant for 2 hours waiting for manon only to find out she was with that friend again

which leads you to now

"are you serious?!, I waited like a stupid bitch at that restaurant all dolled up, just for you to "forget"?! manon what the fuck!" you were seething all the pent up emotions you had hidden in order to just be with manon now exploding out of you

"and? I told you I was with sophia!" manon retorts, pacing back and forth in your apartment, she smelled like sophia like she had for the past 2 months, "yeah like always" you laugh but without any emotion maybe even mocking yourself

"what's that supposed to mean?" manon looks at you, her gaze speaking truth of her rage — "i mean is that- manon what am i to you?, why do i feel like I'm fighting for your attention, I'm the only one making this relationship work manon" you respond tears start to blur your vision as emotions flow out

the older girl's temper suddenly cools down as she sees you cry, and then it all comes crashing down on her, guilt, regret and self-hatred, how did she end up like this? — why was she busy with another woman when you were there all along waiting for her

"babe, don't cry" manon quickly hugs you as you sob, it felt as if she had killed something, that something was the love you two had poured out for eachother

never in a thousand years would have she guessed that she would do this to you, yet she had to tell you, manon thinks about the words that would leave her mouth in the next second before she stammers, "forgive me, my love"

"i-i cheated, my love i am so sorry" manon stutters as the words get stuck in her throat, she felt your sobs get deeper and more hurt

thoughts flood your mind, maybe you weren't enough?, did you ever show less compassion?, where did you lack?

"was i not enough manon?" you finally mutter to her, you felt so stupid, stupid that you knew something was wrong but chose to stay silent, to stay with her, "no, please don't think that way — i was selfish and wanted more when you had given me everything"

"i love you, y/n please don't leave me, ill change i promise please give me a chance" manon begs as words keep spilling from her mouth, you didn't hear her, all you heard was she needed more and you couldn't give it

it felt all too wrong, sophia who you always knew was a friend was sleeping with manon? your girlfriend — all those nights that you'd wait for manon to come home, cook for her hell even clean for her, yet she still cheated?

you felt betrayed and hurt, you walked to the bedroom and started packing a bag, with your clothes and things, "baby don't leave me" manon pleaded, yet you didnt respond maybe if she did this earlier you wouldve huddled her and comforted her but not anymore

"i need to clear my mind manon, please i can't put up with this bullshit" you whisper afraid of what lies ahead between you two

manon craddles her face, afraid of what she might lose, as she sees you walk away from what once was a place of love now just a painful reminder of what they were

what she has ruined all for a little more attention

[bonny-kookoo]

Jungkook

𝐕𝖊𝖓𝖌𝖊𝖆𝖓𝖈𝖊 | Teaser

He's a slave to his desires.

Tags/Warnings: Monster Hunter!Jungkook x ???Reader, Angst, Violence and murder, Romance, Strangers/Enemies to lovers, Fluff, Some comedy?, NSFW, Werewolf AU, Vampire AU, Magic AU

Wordcount: ??

A/N: This was originally meant to be a Halloween Special, but ended up growing way longer than just a 1k drabble as intended, oops. I hope you'll still like reading it- I'll attempt to write the chapters more 'stand-alone' so they can be read without an open ending, while still making you look forward to more.

-> Masterlist

⋅ ⋅ ── ⋅ ⋅ ── ⋅ ⋅ ── ⋅ ⋅ ── ⋅ ⋅ ── ⋅ ⋅ ── ⋅ ⋅ ── ⋅ ⋅ ── ⋅ ⋅ ── ⋅ ⋅

The smell of blood is clear in the air. The sight of it is even more obvious.

Amongst the snow, his wounded prey tries to run from him, leaving drops of crimson against the white, a clear trail to follow. The gun in his hand is still warm, nozzle hot from the most recent firing, bullet most likely still lodged into skin and muscle. It was deserved, long coming, a fate decided, a task completed.

So why is he chasing you?

Because you were not his target.

The bullet in your body isn’t even his.

Jungkook is said to be cruel, unforgiving, ruthless and without mercy- but Namjoon, the only leader he respects enough to follow blindly, would deny that any day. Jungkook has a strong sense of justice, believes what he does is for the better, something that has to be done. So it wasn’t surprising that when he’d used the phone at the hideout of the guy, and called his leader, there had been a faint stutter in his words as he gives him the info he needs.

“He’s dead. I’ll leave him in the container for his people to find.” Jungkook says, well aware that this connection must be a hidden one- meaning that no one can tap into it and potentially listen in on what's said. If he wasn't sure of that, he would've never uttered his next words. “There’s.. the situation wasn’t what I expected, but it’s done.”

“how so?” namjoon asks over the phone. “You sound distracted.”

“I am.” Jungkook admits openly, though his voice stays rather monotonous. He knows he couldn’t lie even if he wanted to. “There’s been.. an uninvolved victim. I don’t think she belongs to his group- she was collared.”

“is she dead?” namjoon asks.

“I don’t know.” The younger man responds. “wounded. I’m not sure how badly, but there's a significant amount of blood.” He explains, as he looks from the red splotches on the floor in front of him, to outside the container into the woods, where you’ve run off.

Instinct, most likely. Lycans, Hybrids and Familiars alike tend to seek solitude when wounded badly, their minds controlled by instincts written in their DNA- and Jungkook has a good eye for determining one’s species just by a short moment of observation. What exactly you are he can't yet say for sure- but the tingling in the air and the bulky collar you wore were clear indications of you not being of the average human kind.

He'll find out soon enough.

“Do what you must.” Is what Namjoon tells him- and it's a gentle order, given to him with the freedom of choice. Jungkook has to now figure out if you're a threat- and if so, what your fate shall be. But no matter how friendly his leader's tone has been, it's an order to act nonetheless-

So he does as he's told, and hangs up the phone before he begins walking out the container into the wintery woods, following your trail of red.

[lexsssu]

Half (Neuvillette)

TAGS: Neuvillette/Dragoness!Reader, smut, oneshot, drabble, heats, mating, knotting, breeding Ao3 ver.

“Are you sure it’s alright for me to stay here, Mr. Neuvillette? I wouldn’t want to impose, especially when you’ve already done so much for me…”

He shook his head, not a single hair falling out of place no matter how much he moved. Despite having stayed in Neuvillette’s home for several days already and spending every moment with him once his duties were done for the day, you never got used to how he always seemed so…dignified.

He practically embodied the calm, deep waters of Fontaine.

Oh, if only you knew the utterly depraved thoughts he had of you from the moment he found you washed up on shore. 

How his blood roared with the need to have you pressed down on the ground as he slid both his aching cocks into your dripping hole, the ridges along his length scraping against your gooey insides before filling you up with his virile seed. 

How the image of you glowing with motherhood, with the proof of his claim was perpetually stuck at the back of his head. It taunted him to make it a reality lest you be snatched up by some other unworthy male.

“You are a most welcome guest in my abode. I assure you that there will never be a time when you’ll become a burden to me,” his hand swiftly clutched yours, lifting it and pressing his lips to the back of it.

You swear you could hear your own heart beating thanks to Neuvillette’s burning gaze alone.

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: .☽ . :☆ﾟ. ───

“I-I don’t know why I’m feeling this way…! Everything’s…too hot and i-itchy right now…!”

Blood pounded in his ears and his eyes dilated, nostrils flaring as the scent of your heat flooded all of his senses. His eyes feasted on the sight of you writhing and clawing off your clothes, revealing your supple skin bit by bit to his ravenous gaze.

If Neuvillette was truly the gentleman and paragon of justice that he tried to be every single, then he might have already left and called Sigewinne to brew a calming concoction for you.

But he always knew deep down that he was still a slave to his own baser instincts. An enlightened beast will always be a beast, no matter how many times he hid this fact…even from himself.

“Shhhh…No need for any more tears, ma moitié.”

He loomed over your form as he reached your bed in what seemed to be the blink of an eye, gloved hand cupping your chin as one long finger wiped a stray tear away.

“I am here.”

Perhaps it’s your addled senses or your own hidden affections for the Iudex that make you lean into his touch even as heat wracked your entire body.

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: .☽ . :☆ﾟ. ───

When he ruts his hips into you and buries the entire length of one of his cocks inside your weeping cunt, your hazy world becomes clear as you feel his tip probing at the entrance to your womb.

The feeling of Neuvillette’s second cock slapping against the softness of your belly with each thrust makes you feel sorry for the unattended organ. 

Despite burying your face against the feather-soft pillows while he mounted you from behind, you manage to turn your head enough to be able to voice out your thoughts.

You almost weep when he pulls out and his movements cease, wondering if he found you too lascivious for his tastes.

But when you feel two tips pressing against your stretched pussy, you all but sigh in relief as he sinks himself home. Despite the initial burn as you’re stretched to almost your limit, being stuffed so full made you forget about any pain you might’ve initially felt.

As the base of his cocks inflate and lock him inside of you, all the heat that ravaged you earlier is replaced with contentment as his seed pumps straight into your womb with no chance of escape. 

You allow yourself to fall asleep against his chest when he flips you both over to lay you on top of him. Your consciousness fades as you’re lulled by his heartbeat.

[roonotrue]

Day 1 - Ice Skating with Vil!

Twisted Wonderland Writings Masterpost

Prologue, Day 2

Prompt: In the end Epel is the one who manages to convince a housewarden to help, specifically getting Vil to help distract the MC while he and the other freshies enact their plan, which is now being referred to as Operation 'Christmas Miracle!'

Reader: GN reader - They/Them pronouns and the reader is called 'MC/Prefect.' The reader also knows how to ice skate but hasn't in a while. (I am too scared to ever try ice skating, but for those of you who do Merry Christmas.)

Included Characters: Vil Schoenheit

Warnings: Mild Swearing.

Tags: @twistedcece

~~~

It's been weeks since you spoke with your fellow freshmen about the winter holidays in your world, and the cold has really come rushing in full force at NRC.

Snow blankets the ground, and students wear thick layers to class to keep warm.

You didn't really have any thick layers to bundle up in, but luckily Professor Crewel noticed this when you and Grim came into class a Prefect and Cat-shaped popsicle, ten minutes late. He then personally saw to yell at Crowley in his office for twenty whole minutes about letting you freeze to death.

So now you have a winter coat.

Big enough for Grim to hide in with you when heading to class. Maybe you can wrangle some gloves out of him to if you play your cards right.

But that's none of this is the point. The point is, it's cold enough to go ice skating on the pond outside the Alchemy Workshop.

Which Vil invited you to go do.

Vil.

Vil Schoenheit.

Invited you.

To go... Ice skating.

The famous model and actor, and the Housewarden of Pomefiore (though much less relevant than the FAMOUS MODEL AND ACTOR part) invited YOU... To go ice skating with him.

Okay, look, it's not that you find it hard to believe (you do actually find it very hard to believe), it's just that... Vil is... Vil.

And you're you. In his eyes, a potato. Not that you mind. Most people are potatoes compared to Vil Scheonheit, but also, potatoes aren't that bad of a comparison.

One of the most diverse ingredients and stand-alone foods in this world and yours. Easily able to fit into any dish or meal as a main ingredient or a side.

You'd say since coming to NRC, you fit that description kind of well.

The point is, you and Vil are friends, but like, you've never gone and done something alone with him like this. You'd asked if other Pomefiore students might be there (namely Rook or Epel), but he'd said it'd just be you two.

Alone. Without one of the idiots (read: friends) in your life (take your pick, there are many), contributing to, or leading the conversation.

You're totally not overthinking this or anything.

You try way too hard to wear something nicer than usual- but as mentioned before, you don't have a ton of warm clothes. And they'll be covered by your coat anyway so why the hell does it matter?

Because it's Vil. That's why it matters. You want to look nice.

"You know, I still think the first shirt was the nicest." Grim mutters between bites of tuna.

Which you don't appreciate considering you gave him that can so he'd shut up for a minute.

"It had a hole in it, Grim. Do you really think Vil wouldn't notice that?" You scoff, searching your closet for another nicer button-up.

The only good one you have is for your school uniform, but it needs to be washed, and you don't have time for that- Vil is literally on his way to pick you up.

"No, cuz it'll be hidden under the coat! Now hurry up, he just texted you he's here."

"What!?" You rush to your phone, quickly throwing on the shirt, rushing to button it up as you see the text.

"Okay, okay, okay- Uh, I left another can of tuna on the counter for you if you get hungry while I'm gone, and if anyone swings by needing me for something- I'm dead, got it?" You tell Grim, putting on your coat.

"Sure thing, henchhuman! Stay out as late as you need, the Great Grim has got things handled!" He says with a large smile, way too excited for you to leave.

Normally he complains anytime you go somewhere without him and get's all grumpy or will end up sneaking along after you. 

But today, he's been all too happy to help you get ready and push you out the door.

It's suspicious. He's been acting suspiciously for the last two weeks.

So have the others. Avoiding you, getting anxious and awkward when you're around. Lying.

You're not an idiot. They're up to something. You can't quite figure out what exactly but you can reckon it's probably something that you're going to have to fix later.

But right now, you've got more pressing issues.

Like stopping at the hall mirror to make sure your hair isn't messed up, and your skin's not greasy or anything.

When you open the door Vil is, as always, the vision of perfection. Dressed snuggly in a deep blue winter coat, black leather gloves, and a white fur scarf, his hair tied back in a bun, only the front half left loose to frame his face as it usually does.

His violet eyes glimmer when he sees you, swiftly putting his phone back in his pocket.

"There you are, are you ready to go?" He smiles.

"Yep!" You chuckle as you rub your hands together at the cold breeze that comes rushing in from outside.

It snowed particularly hard last night, so classes had been canceled today. But right now, the sky is clear, and the fresh snow sparkles under the late morning light.

The motion, however, catches Vil's eye, whose smile drops as he looks you up and down and raises a brow.

"It's quite cold out, MC, are you sure you don't want to put on gloves? And a scarf you be a good idea too. And maybe a different coat, that one simply is not your color, who did you let pick it out, Crowley? It hardly looks warm enough for the weather." He asks, poking at the sleeve of the item.

Actually, yes, he did pick it out. The cheapest one he could find.

"It's the only coat I have, and I don't have any gloves or anything. It's fine though, I've gotten pretty used to the cold by now." You laugh it off, and Vil's eyes narrow.

"Hm. Very well, let's just get going, I'm sure we can swing by Sam's shop and pick you up something." He nods, resolute.

"Oh, I don't really have any money for it. Not if I want to eat something other than the cheap microwave meals Crowley leaves for me over break." You wave your hands, stepping outside and closing the door before you let any more heat out.

It was hard enough getting the furnace working, you're not wasting a single second of the warmth it provides before it breaks again.

"Microwave meals!? Is that birdbrained idiot trying to kill you!? Do you know how many preservatives and chemicals are in those!?" Vil looks horrified and you can't help but chuckle, scratching at the back of your head nervously.

"Well, food is food, as Ruggie would say. We can worry more about it later if you'd like, but I'd really like to have some sort of fun on my snow day, don't you?" You ask, trying to change the subject.

The housewarden cringes at the idea of dropping the subject, but lets out a defeated sigh.

"Fine. We will be talking about this later though. Or at least I'll be talking with Crowley next housewarden's meeting." He mumbles the last bit as he grabs your arm, looping it through his.

Oh. Oh.

He leads the way down Ramshackle steps towards the gate. And you try not to think about you two looking awfully a lot like a couple.

Ice skating is a common winter date where you're from... And then you have a thought.

A stomach-dropping thought.

Is this a date?

You nearly stumble to a stop at the thought.

You didn't think to ask. Why would you!? It was such a random out-of-the-blue offer! You didn't think 'Would you like to go ice skating with me today?' translated to anything nonplatonic!

It's probably not a date. Probably.

So you quickly decide to distract yourself from the warmth radiating from where your and Vil's arms are locked.

"So, you wouldn't happen to know what's up with Epel lately? He and the others have been avoiding me. I think they're planning something, but I don't know what." You mention, and Vil glances at you with a small smirk.

"It just so happens I do. And trust me, it's nothing to worry about. Let's just focus on us today, yes?"

Oh, this might be a fucking date.

Fuuuuuuuck.

You would have tried so much harder to look nicer if you'd realized this sooner!

"O-okay. Well, how have you been with all the cold weather? Are you excited for the break?" You ask, suddenly feeling very nervous.

"I don't mind the cold, it dries out the skin, but simply adding an extra hydration step to my skincare routine in the morning and night is a simple fix for it." He informs and you smile.

"I've tried that face scrub stuff you got for me, and it works really well. Smells nice too. I'm almost out of it, so I'll have to save up for some more." You mention, the gift- or well, 'charity' as he called it at the time a few months ago, of skincare products.

It was nice of him, and you're pretty sure it was a 'thank you' for helping him during his overblot. Which is more than you got from Leona.

You've been able to set up a routine for yourself with it, probably nothing as complicated as his routine, but you're proud to say you have seen some improvements.

"Oh? I'm glad, I wasn't sure you'd use any of them, Epel certainly doesn't." He scoffs, and you chuckle.

"Yet somehow has incredible skin." You remark as you walk out the gate and towards the Alchemy Workshop

"I know, as to how he got so lucky when all he does is wash it with water and a cloth in the morning- sometimes- I will never understand." Vil sighs, bringing a hand to his head in disappointment.

"Well, at least he's got you to look out for him. Wish I were so lucky to have gotten the fair Vil Schoenheit as a guide throughout my time here at NRC. All I got was Crowley." You sigh, unintentionally leaning into him as a cold breeze passes through.

"Hm, well, if you'd like I can certainly dedicate some of my time to help you with self-care and style? And trust me, it's no burden on me. After all, if we're going to be seen together more, it ought to be my job to make sure you look good enough to impress. I want the world to see you as beautiful on the outside as I know you are on the inside." He meets your wide-eyed gaze with a soft smile.

There's a fondness in his eyes that you don't think you've ever seen before.

A fondness meant just for you.

"Oh my, are you sure you're not cold? Your face is all red." He asks, though there's a knowing look in his eyes and a smirk on his lips.

Oh, he's teasing you.

"I'm fine! I just didn't expect that! I don't get compliments often, you know?" You turn away, focusing on the path ahead of you.

"Oh, I doubt that sweet potato, with how selfless and determined you are? There are a lot of people here at NRC who should be singing your praises for everything you do for them." He brings his other free hand to rest on top of your arm, still locked with his.

"Well, all I really hear is people telling me that I shouldn't be so kind, or that I'm naive, too trusting, too generous, and foolish for never requesting anything in return... Sometimes it's like none of the students here even know what kindness is, the way they react to it." You can see the Alchemy Workshop ahead of you.

"Hm, I see. Well, I might agree in some aspects that you're too trusting and generous at times, but for the most part, it's... Not a bad thing. You've helped people, MC, even at your own detriment, and though the idea of you continuing to do so worries me, I know you will. Because you have a good heart. You care about people, even when they don't deserve your care. It's admirable." He sighs wistfully, staring off ahead, the condensation of his breath floating in the icy air around his face.

You pause when you reach the Alchemy Workshop, looking at him as he turns to you questioningly.

"... Thanks, Vil. You have a good heart too. Even if you don't show it very often. You look after your dormmates and underclassmen, you make sure they're taking care of themselves, eating healthy, and doing well in school. You encourage their passions a lot, even Epel's love for Spelldrive, despite not liking the sport yourself. You have your own way of caring about people, it's a more 'tough love' style than mine, but it's still just as admirable." You know he's thinking back to his own overblot and behavior leading up to it.

To be honest, it was bad, but people are more than just their worst moments.

And perhaps that is you being too forgiving, but empathy is something that NRC has been lacking for a long time. So perhaps it's just your cross to bear.

Vil meets your eyes for a long moment, thoughts swirling around those long lashes and pretty lavender irises.

"The way you're able to see people, sweet potato... It's a remarkable ability, you know that right?" He finally smiles, and it remains the most beautiful sight you've ever known.

"A blessing and a curse at times. Now come on, I wanna ice skate!" You laugh and pull at the connection of your arms to usher him forward.

"So you do know how? I never thought to ask, but I figured if you didn't I could teach you." Vil inquires as you walk around the building to see the frozen pond.

It looks beautiful, sparkling in the daylight. There are a few students on the other side skating, but they're far enough that you and Vil can still skate with plenty of room. It's a big pond after all.

"Kind of, I haven't in a while, so I might be a bit rusty- and certainly not as elegant as I'm sure you are." Of all the talents for Vil Schoenheit to have, ice skating may be the least surprising.

It's a beautiful hobby. Elegant, graceful, refined, and mature. All words that can describe ice skating and Vil.

"I only started learning a few years ago, and only really in the wintertime when I'm home alone on break. I picked it up to pass the time." He explains, walking you over to the pond edge where two bags sit- a note attached.

"You're alone during winter break?" You ask, slightly hesitant, not wanting it to be a sensitive topic, but he probably wouldn't have mentioned it if it was, right?

"Yes, my father's work schedule is usually packed, so he's not home often. I have the house to myself for the most part, save for the housekeepers." He picks up the note (you see that it's signed 'from Rook') and opens the bag nearest so you both can see the white ice skates inside.

"Oh, well, you can always call or text me during break if you get bored. I'd enjoy hearing from you." You grab the other bag as he hands it to you (ignoring how your hands brush), and he chuckles.

"I just might, sweet potato. Here, I sent Rook to buy these for you, so don't worry about returning them to me." He tells you.

You brush snow off a nearby tree stump and sit down to put them on. They fit perfectly, and you don't even want to begin to guess how Rook got your shoe size.

"You sure? I can pay you back-"

"Don't worry about it. Consider them one of your gifts. Now, let's go, we don't have all day." 

Wait, one of your what-

You stumble a bit and Vil's arm darts out to steady you.

"Are you alright?"

"Yeah, fine, just haven't worn a pair of these in a while!" You laugh it off, and you both make your way to the ice.

Vil is as elegant as you thought he'd be, gliding across the ice smoothly. You have a rocky start, nearly slipping straight onto your butt the moment you touch the ice, but you find your balance quickly.

The memories of your last time skating flow back to the forefront of your mind, and you manage to not look like a complete fool gliding across the ice with Vil.

"Gosh, it feels like so long ago since I last did this!" You laugh, doing slow wide circles around the ice with Vil.

"Hm, it is a rather elegant winter activity, we could make it a tradition if you'd like? Coming to ice skate before winter break. It would keep either of us from getting too rusty and I can give you some of the hydrating face masks I use in the morning and night to keep your face from getting dry- and lip balm, chapped lips will not be accepted while we're together." He asks you, and you turn to him, skating in front of him backward.

It's a bold offer. Everything about Vil had been bold today. Does he truly like you? Like, like-like you?

You certainly like-like him.

By the seven you sound like a middle schooler with their first ever crush. Hell, you've certainly felt like one for... Awhile now.

Every time you're near him, acting like a blushing idiot, twirling your hair and giggling. You're not actually doing either of those things, but you sure feel like it!

Ever since his overblot, he's been a consistent voice of reason in your life, helping you curb the chaotic tendencies of those around you every time he's around.

And somewhere along the line, you've developed that terrible fluttering in your stomach that people call a crush every time he speaks to you. Or offers to help with something. Or looks at you. Or calls you 'sweet potato' which really only started just before Halloween.

God, he really has been dropping big hints, huh? So you should make a bold move too, right?

By the seven, please don't let this backfire.

"I'd love to, but only if you let me take you out to dinner afterward." You smile, the slightest of nervous flushes on your face, and his eyes widen, startled, but so does his smirk.

"How bold. And here I was worried that even after today you wouldn't get the hint. It's a date, sweet potato." He skates closer to you.

"I'm not that dense you know, just... In a state of shock that you'd want to go out with me. You do know you could have anyone right? You're a famous model, actor, and the housewarden of Pomefiore. From what I've seen so far, there isn't a girl or guy alive that wouldn't throw themselves at your feet." You acknowledge and he just laughs.

"Ah, yes, all the guys and girls that would love to be with me just for my looks, fame, and money. No, thank you. I'll stick with one of the only people in the world who sees me. Who appreciates my help, even when others think I'm being a bitch. Who values my advice, and actually listens to it. Who makes me feel like I... for a single second... Don't need to try so hard to be perfect." You stop skating at his words.

So does he.

"Vil... You never have to be perfect with me. I'm not perfect. Neither is anyone I know- I mean, look at my best friends! They're morons! But I still love them! Because they make me laugh. They care about my wellbeing- in their own ways, and they're there for me when I really need them." You list fondly, skating just a bit closer to grab Vil's gloved hand.

"That's all I really need from anyone, and maybe to some people, that's a low bar, but hey, I'm happy. So it must not be that bad of a thing, you know? So if you're up to doing just those three things, then I'll gladly date you, and do the same in return." When you look up at him, he's watching you closely.

Or well, maybe not you.

Your lips.

"I think I'm quite capable of doing all of that. And more, if you'd allow me?" He glances to meet your gaze his hand coming up to cradle your cheek.

You smile and nod.

And he kisses you. Slow, soft, and gentle. Warmth fills you, making the cold that your cheap coat couldn't keep out, melt away.

You lean into the kiss, and you have to stop yourself from chasing after it when he pulls away.

"Lots of those. That's also part of the deal- I require lots of those." You sigh wistfully and he laughs.

Bright, and melodic, and real.

You move to skate an inch back just to see it better and-

"Ack-!"

Your skate catches on something, stalling and sending you falling back.

Your arms frantically reach to grab something and stabilize yourself. At the same time, Vil quickly reaches forward to grab you, which he does, but then his skate trips over the same thing that must have tripped you.

You land in snow.

Ah. You two were at the edge of the pond.

You tripped on solid ground.

And dragged Vil down with you.

Not a great start to the relationship.

It takes a moment of blinking to fully process what just happened but when you do, you find Vil on top of you, a single hair fallen out of his bun.

Without thinking you reach out and tuck it behind his ear so it's less noticeable to someone who isn't this close to him.

His eyes meet yours and you flush, suddenly bashful and worried all at once.

"I'm so sorry! Are you okay!?" You ask, feeling the snow below you, freezing cold seeping through your coat and clothes.

You use your hands to prop yourself up, ignoring the cold and how it starts to sting.

"I'm alright, are you?" He asks and you nod, looking around, your happy you two are now the only ones at the pond.

Vil may have agreed to date you, but he might quickly retract it if anyone saw that.

You sigh in relief, and then... You can't stop yourself from laughing.

"Care to enlighten me on what's so funny about this? Ugh, I've probably messed up my hair- and my clothes-" He pushes himself up, standing swiftly, brushing the snow off of his coat.

"Because we weren't paying attention at all!" You snort out, still laughing at the whole clumsy situation.

"Exactly! You could have gotten hurt, you are aware of that, correct?" He scolds, leaning down to offer you a hand up, which you gladly take while still giggling.

"Yeah, but we didn't, and this will be a hilarious first date story someday." You struggle to balance only for a second when he pulls you to your feet (he's stronger than you thought, duly noted) but he holds your arms to keep you steady.

"We are not telling anyone that I fell." He says firmly, but you smile up at him and can immediately see that fondness softening his sharp glare.

"Of course not. The beautiful and fair, Vil Schoenheit was my hero, helping me up, checking for injuries, kissing them better-" He scoffs as you giggle out the lie.

"We're not telling anyone that either, sweet potato. Let's just stick with you fell, and I helped you up, yes?" He smirks, and you sigh with a smile still glued to your face.

"As you wish, my fairest." You loop your arms and begin skating out towards the middle of the ice once more.

"How about you show me some of those fancier moves you were doing earlier? The figure skating stuff. I'm no master like you, but I think I can learn a few things." You suggest.

"I wouldn't call myself a master, but I can show you a few things I've learned, so watch closely, sweet potato."

"Oh, trust me, I will."

You two spend the next hour skating, Vil teaching you some more advanced moves, which leads to you falling once or twice more, but you get a few down before evening rolls around with no serious injury.

"I think we should probably head back now, my hands are going to go numb." You sigh, a little disappointed to call it quits, but your hands hurt from how cold they are, and you legs are getting tired too.

"That's probably for the best, to much time out in the cold is terrible for the skin." He sighs, already skating towards you.

"I though you had hydrating face masks for that?" You joke and he rolls his eyes.

"There's only so much a face mask can protect you from and prevent. Are you hungry? We can grab something to eat before we go back, my treat this time, since I was the one who invited you out after all." He suggests and you would like to protest that you should at least pay for your share but- you really don't have the money.

And you're actually starving. You both kind of skipped any kind of lunch, being too distracted with skating and confessions and all that.

Note to self, pack lunches next year.

"Sure, Mostro Lounge would be the best option-" You go to recommend, but Vil quickly interrupts.

"I was thinking of somewhere else. You've been to Mostro Lounge dozens of times, but I'd love to bring you to a restaurant in town that I think you'd like." He asks pulling out his phone and typing something very quickly.

"Oh? Okay. So long as Azul doesn't find out I'm cheating on him with another restaurant, we should be fine." You chuckle and your words draw one from Vil to.

"It's a small place, quaint, quiet, and... Homey. I think you'll enjoy it." Good, so nothing that's 5-star fine dining.

You're really not dressed for that kind of restaurant.

"Alright, but I should stop by and tell Grim I'll be out a little longer, or he might get worried."

"Oh, I think he'll be fine. You can text someone else to check on him if you're really worried, or I can have Rook do it?" He pulls you a bit closer to him as you shiver a bit from a cold wind.

Oh, yeah, Grim will definitely be fine.

"Alright. Lead the way, my fairest." You sigh with a dopey smile, and he glances down at you with a smirk.

"Is that your pet name for me now?" He asks with a raised brow and you nudge him.

"Like you can judge, you literally call me a potato!" You laugh.

"A sweet potato." He correct.

"Still a potato. But it's fine. I quite like it. Would you like me to call you something else?" You ask, tilting your head in his direction and he hums in thought.

"No, I think that will work. As well as darling, love, sweetheart, beauty, my queen- those all work too." He smiles proudly, and you giggle.

"Of course, my queen." You give a small, mock bow, and it's his turn to nudge you.

Today has been... Wonderful.

And even if you're alone during winter break, at least you know Vil is only a text or phone call away.

It'll be a good Christmas this year. You just know it.

~~~

Vote for the next character below!

[damn-stark]

Chapter 31 In that big ol’ room

Chapter 31 of Moonlight

A/N- we’re close to the end :(

Warning- talks of postpartum depression, ANGST, swearing, violence, fire, blood, and DEATH. SPOILERS!! FOR FUTURE EVENTS OF HOTD, USING FIRE AND BLOOD, long chapter.

Pairing- Aemond Targaryen x Velaryon!fem-reader, Cregan Stark x Velaryon!fem-reader

Episode/Pages- 535-539

(If you want to be tagged let me know)

————

The memory of her death, even though it was recent and still a raw one in your mind, can’t stop playing in your head over and over again.

Like a veil it obscures your vision, not letting you take a good look at the newborn babies you just gave birth to, and here's the thing, as bad as it sounds you don’t care to look at them. Even if you cradle them both in your arms you can’t find that joy or relief to look at their red little faces and wait for their eyes to open to tell you who their father might be.

You keep the veil over your face like a badge of honor to remind yourself why you wear it. You don’t want to forget even if it's impossible to do so. Does it make you a terrible mother?

All you wanted to be as a mother was to be the mother yours was to you. You want to nuzzle with all three of your babies now that you’re together. You want to love them and let go of your pain, but…then Daenys begins to cry a shrieking cry and it takes you back to that moment where your mother shrieked before she burnt, and you’re bombarded with frustration.

“Take them,” you demand and turn to the edge of the bed to let a handmaiden take them from your arms so they can shush the shrieking babe.

However, she only cries louder and your frustration starts to torture you by bringing rage along.

You try to shake it off, but as you close your eyes the memory of your mother burning plays vividly so you quickly snap your eyes open and simply sit there ruminating in your anger and frustration, hoping it’ll fade into something you can manage, but alas, that veil only gets thicker to the point you can’t see what’s in front of you. All that exists is your anger and…a desire—no, an obligation to kill Aegon for what he did. It doesn’t matter if they end up killing you in the process.

You don’t care as long as he’s dead too.

He has to die…

Thus in a blinded rage, you swipe the scissors that the handmaidens used to cut the twin’s umbilical cord and then drag yourself off the bed, catching the immediate attention of all the handmaidens.

“Princess what are you doing?! You should not be moving!” Vanessa warns you and rushes to your side to attempt and move you back to bed, but you put your hand up to stop her.

“Leave me,” you snap without meeting her gaze. “I am going to try and call to my dragon,” you lie and push yourself off the bed, causing your bloody and soaked gown to fall over your body, and feeling sharp pains shooting throughout your body, threatening to keep you down, but you just clutch onto your belly and swallow back your pained groan before you start to drag your feet without bothering to put anything on your feet.

You just start walking, making the poor handmaidens' hearts hurt with pity and concern.

“Don’t dare and follow me,” you warn them as you keep the scissors hidden in your sleeve so they won’t stop you.

“But—”

“No,” you cut them off and leave out the door where guards are there to greet you. “If you follow me I won’t need my dragon to kill you. I’ll do it myself,” you warn them bitterly.

However, unlike the handmaidens, they move to trail after you, making you bring yourself to a stop and peer over your shoulder with a glare. “I said. Stay,” you grimace. “Guard the twins. They are more important. What threat can I be anyway?” You try to deceive them, and after a moment of debate, they step back to their previous position, letting you continue to trudge forward.

However, every step you take is a cruel reminder of what you just went through. And with every step you want to stop and take a break, but you keep moving your bare feet and exhausted body forward because what is your pain compared to the pain your mother went through every single second before she was ripped apart?

Nothing…that’s what. Nothing compares to the suffering she went through. It's why you keep moving forward. It’s why you clench your jaw as you grow angrier, and it’s why you clutch onto the scissors you keep hidden. Even though you have no idea where Aegon is, you keep moving—then again is it really hard to find him as he’s bound to that wooden chair?

Not likely. He can only be in so many places. Is it the throne room? The master quarters? Or the meeting room?

You’ll go search in all of them if you have to. Even if you’re writhing in agony you will find him. After all, what does he know of Dragonstone? He’s never called it home like you have. This is your home! Yours! Your mothers, your brothers, your cousins, and your children’s home! Not his! So you will find Aegon.

Aegon.

Aegon.

Aegon.

Aegon…

After a while of stalking through those corridors like a vengeful ghost terrorizing the castle, you finally catch the sound of his voice coming from the meeting room. He’s not alone either, you can hear Ser Alfred and Lord Larys with him too, but it’s okay you can wait and if they don't leave his side then you’ll still ram your scissors through Aegon’s throat.

You wait first though. Just for a while.

“…killing Lord Corlys Velaryon would not be a wise action. Even if Ser Alfred has a point about having Rhaenyra's allies suffer consequences, he still has the greatest fleet and a bastard boy who will never ally with us.”

Aegon hums before he interjects. “Then…we make him bend the knee and ask for forgiveness. He did turn against Rhaenyra when she imprisoned him, besides…his counsel would be welcome.”

The corner of your lips curl to a scowl and your grip around the scissors only tightens more.

“If he doesn’t comply we have his granddaughters in our grasp. We will just threaten one of their lives until he bends the knee,” he shares without an ounce of hesitation. His words just roll off of his tongue.

“That will surely work, but I’m certain we won’t have to take those measures,” Lord Larys says before Ser Alfred cuts in.

“That is if he doesn’t call to his other granddaughter, Lady Rhaena, and her wild dragon. With Astraea still alive, they could use Lord Stark’s new host and Lady Arryn’s host to turn against us. And we don’t have the numbers to compete.”

Aegon scoffs with displeasure and Ser Alfred continues with a bit of hesitation.

“That is why I suggest we kill Rhaenyra’s son Aegon…”

Your pinched eyebrows falter as the rage contorting your face turns to disbelief for a second.

“…That way they don’t have an heir to use against us. With Prince Aemond’s son you don’t need Aegon as heir, nor will your niece be a threat with her now betrothed to Lord Stark. Killing Aegon will discourage the forces, it will show them that we still have power and that we are not to be trifled with.”

No. No. No…

Aegon can’t die too. Your mother would have fought to the death to keep him alive; her last living son.

Plus, he is your brother. Even if you weren’t raised together and he’s more like a stranger to you, he’s still the last living brother you have so he can’t die. You can’t let him die, and…you…won’t. Even if it means swallowing your anger and your pride you will keep him alive.

Thus after a deep shuddering breath, you drop the scissors meant to kill Aegon, making a loud clattering sound the moment the metal hits the floor. After that, you draw out another trembling breath before you slowly step out of hiding and come across guards on their way to investigate the noise.

“I have come to see the King,” you mutter in defeat and ignore the way they look at you with disgust as you’re still wearing your birthing gown and have not cleaned any of your sweat, tears, or blood.

“This…way,” one guard points to the hall as he steps aside, letting you push your chin up and continue to trudge forward.

Once you’re in the sights of all three men you bring yourself to a halt and force yourself to drag your eyes toward Aegon, even if it brings you more pain than when you were walking where you are.

“Princess,” Ser Alfred gasps.

“Bring—”

“No,” you cut Lord Larys off and hold your belly. “I come to say one thing.”

You draw in a deep breath as you hesitate to form your next words.

You will say what you came here to say, there’s no doubt about it. But even if it hurts to admit it, having to sacrifice your own dreams to save your brother wounds you deeply because it’s Aegon; the man who killed your mother, the man who you always hated, and the man who has always been so perverted and gross. Furthermore, after having immunity by being betrothed to Cregan, Aegon is taking that away too.

“I,” you breathe out and break your silence, but don’t continue right away. First, you fall to your knees with a pained groan and then, continue with your head hanging. “…Will marry you.”

You miss the looks that are shared and fail to look strong and nonchalant. Your voice and your face both expose your weakness as those words pierce your soul.

“Just please,” you beg in a quivering voice. “Don't kill my brother. He-he can go to the wall the moment he turns of age. Just please, please don’t kill him,” you plead in the same desperation you used to plead for your mother's life.

“He’s all I have left of my family,” you whisper. “Please, Aegon. He doesn’t even have to be raised in the Red Keep, you can send him to be someone’s ward. Just please…don’t kill him.”

You can hear shifting and wood creaking before Aegon’s voice makes the hairs on the back of your neck rise, and a twinge of anger sparks back where it had been burning before.

“Look at me,” he says smugly because he has control over you like never before. And even if you don’t want to meet his gaze. Even if the thought disgusts and angers you, you slowly pull your head up and meet his gaze with a hardened look.

“I accept your proposal. It’s a relief you came to your senses, my sweet niece. Just tell me you renounce your betrothed Lord Stark and you are mine.”

You swallow back thickly and feel your lips twitch down before you open your mouth and respond with dread. “I do. I renounce my betrothed Lord Cregan Stark.”

——

*SOMETIME LATER*

“Were my letters sent?”

“Yes,” Vanessa gives your question a response before leaving you in your solitude once again.

“<I love you.>”.

Tears slipped past her eyes…small beads of salt and sorrow littered water rolled down her face the same way they involuntarily run down your cheeks right now. You remember.

Having memories is a blessing. The way one's mind can recall things that happened in the past is truly fascinating, but right now, like every other second since your mother died, your mind and your memories are cruel. They bring such a visceral physical aching pain that can’t be tamed, it's so deafening and it makes you grow overwhelmed fast. It doesn't even let you find solace in the sun's touch because you refuse to welcome its cold embrace.

Usually admiring the sea is a quick calming effect too, but even though you’re surrounded by it as you remain in Dragonstone, you refuse to look at it; almost as if it is guilty of causing your pain.

Lastly, being with Aerion is a great way to bring a smile to your face and relax your current aching heart, but you can’t be your children’s mother right now. You tried, you really have tried, but that connection feels like it’s blocked by the entity that is your rage, grief, and sorrow. It feels like you can’t love them until you take care of that which brought you pain and took everything away from you. Is it cruel?

Maybe, but you did make it your task to at least study your twins to know how they look, and you can say that Daenys has the same blond-silver hair and blue eyes Aemond had. It’s too soon to tell but you have a feeling she’s going to look like him too. As for Daenerys, she’s smaller just like she was in the womb; she’s a lot slimmer than her sister too, and her eyes are…grey, but Vanessa says that she’s far too young to really know if that’s the eye color she’ll have forever. They might change colors as she grows older, so the jury is still out on who her father might be, more so because her hair color is white-silver just like yours, which, that in itself is good. It’s something you don’t have to worry about anymore.

So now all that you’re pestered with is that you can’t be the mother that your children so desperately need. With Aerion grown so attached to your mother, he’s missing her terribly. He won’t stop calling out for her, and it hurts because you’re here but you can’t make yourself comfort him, and it’s not because you don’t want to, you do, but…there’s just so much pain that you can't scrape up an ounce of any other emotion besides anger. Loud, throbbing, and agonizing anger that makes you scream out to the ground as you fold over the edge of the bed.

Does that ease everything that torments you? No, but it lets you stand up and walk out of your chambers—at least Aegon lets you have free reign of the castle since you are his betrothed and because he knows you won’t risk your brother's life since he holds it in the palm of his hand.

Alas, when you step out and try to walk to the library or anywhere you can spend your time where Aegon won’t be, you’re reminded of your mother. The memory of her haunts every hall and every corridor, so you can either return to your quarters or go…visit Baela. You haven’t gone to see her or attempted to free her from her imprisonment because once again it’s your emotions that keep you away, they’ve kept you captive and isolated in your lonesome to let you simmer in your rage-born hatred.

However, you have nothing to do now and Baela has no clue what happened—and how can you let her continue with her days thinking of a life that no longer exists? And if you can’t muster an ounce of warmth then she at least deserves to know the truth. Thus after some hesitation, you make your way to the cells at the lowest part of the castle, but linger in the shadows for a moment and debate returning to the isolation of your chambers as you imagine how the interaction could play out.

She could hate you and she could also blame you for your mother's death, but if she doesn’t know she wouldn’t have the ability to do any of those things.

Yet she needs to know, so after a deep breath you slowly walk out of the shadows and make your way to the only occupied cell. Right away Baela spots the shadow that casts on the cell floor and lets her curiosity get answered by looking over and seeing you standing at the other side of those bars.

“Baela,” you greet her with a whisper and she takes a few more hard blinks before she shoves herself to her feet and rushes to the bars, letting you notice that she looks slimmer than the last time you saw her, and she has burn scars on one part of her face. She also has short hair now too so she sports a cute afro.

“The twins,” she says after she uttered your name with a surprised gasp. “They’re born?”

You offer her the ghost of a smile and nod. “Yes, girls, Daenys and Daenerys.”

Baela sighs with relief and offers you a sweet and happy smile that you can’t mirror. She’s quick to notice it; along with your drooped eyes and falling lips. Yet before she can interject you beat her to speaking.

“Aegon told me about what happened. I’m sorry about Moondancer,” you offer her your condolences and linger where you are for a second before you step forward and gently wrap your hands around hers.

“She went out fighting,” her voice quivers, and her eyes water. “And she might have not killed Sunfyre but…”

“He can't fly because of Moondancer, he’s rotting away in the courtyard,” you cut her off to offer her some hope before the dread is revealed.

“Sunfyre is dying?” Baela queries with a twitch of her lips.

“He is.” You nod. “No doubt about it. He should die any day now.”

Baela musters a faint smirk before lifting her chin and slowly looking at you in confusion. “What are you doing here without chains? Is Astraea okay?”

You nod lightly. “She suffered some injuries at the Second Battle at Tumbleton, but she will be fine. She’s just off the Island for now.”

Baela scoffs and passes you an amused look. “Why? Are you two upset with each other?”

You swallow back thickly and let the silence build up as you admire the way she manages to smile in such gloomy times and in such a dark space.

“No,” you mumble after a moment of admiration and drop your head to let out a heavy sigh whilst your grip unknowingly tightens around her hands. “Baela listen to me…I’m here because I was hurt in the battle at Tumbleton. Astraea brought me here and Aegon and his party were able to hold me captive,” you pause and she tries to slip her grasp from under your hold, but you refuse to let go.

“Okay,” Baela whispers.

“In my captivity, I attempted to escape to find my mother, and I did find her, but,” you swallow back the lump that was quick to form in your throat. “She was already here. I couldn’t even sail past the island,” you mutter and find it hard to look up at Baela even though you’re curious about her current reaction.

“I tried to save her. I swam and ran to her to try and save her, but…I-I was too late,” your voice quivers and you feel Baela stiffen under your grasp—“they overwhelmed us and Ser Jason betrayed us, so they were able to take us. That’s…when…Aegon,” you gasp shakily. “He…killed her,” you let out with a growl as your anger overturns the sorrow that was clinging in your throat.

“No,” Baela whispers. “No. No…” she trails off and manages to yank her hands from under your grasp.

You continue to look at the ground beneath your feet, but you hear her back away in the growing silence.

And it’s in the silence that violent memories of that night come forth and you stop feeling sorry for yourself. You push back your grief and sorrow, and let your agony, your loud and throbbing rage come forth to take control of every part of you.

“But it’s okay,” you interject in a voice that finally holds emotion, but not warmth to comfort her, a coldness that only accompanies the bad. “It’s okay, Baela,” you continue and look at her with a gaze bathing in raging flames of malice, giving Baela chills when she finds your eyes.

“<Because I will avenge her. I will avenge our Queen,” you say in Valyrian so the guards nearby won’t understand. “I’m set to marry Aegon, and it’s when I become his Queen and garner some of his trust that I will kill him. We will.>”

Baela watches you with concern as your eyes grow dark and a wicked smirk paints on your lips. Yet she also feels relieved that your mother will be avenged. It’s that fire that will keep the war alive and bring justice.

However, you then continue adding on to your plans.

“<But not before I burn down the part of King’s Landing that killed Joffrey and forced my mother to flee,>” you reveal without remorse or a hint of deceit, only coldness and madness, and that’s when Baela’s concern outgrows her own thirst for revenge because hasn’t she lost enough?

“<But you can’t,>” she protests your plans in Valyrian and makes your face contort with confusion.

“<But I can,” you counter. “I have the means to. I have my dragon. And they deserve it. How can they go unpunished when they rose up against the crown? Besides,” you scoff. “Say what you want about Aegon, but he is still a Targaryen and those were our dragons, he’ll let me take revenge and put those people in their place.>”

Baela makes her way back to the bars and you see her eyes are still gleaming, but now as she speaks you know she doesn’t cry for your mother, she’s tearing up out of a gnawing worry. “<But what will raining fire down on those people cost but your life? Your own humanity?>”

“<Humanity?>” You quip and feel your face twist back with anger. “<Did they have humanity when they killed my son's dragon? Or every other dragon that lived in that pit, at that? Did they have humanity when they rose up against a woman trying to help them?!>” You raise your voice and grip onto those bars with a deadly grip.

“Perhaps not,” Baela counters in the common tongue. “<But that’s when you become the bigger person and show them we can still be a fraction they can trust and believe in. We can have them help us in our fight against the traitors that still remain!>”

You look at her as if she offended you and shake your head. “But don’t you get it? It was because they turned against my mother that she had to flee. It was because of them that she’s dead! There's no point in saving such traitorous and disgusting people. Don’t you see?”

“And don’t you see that raining fire will result in more smallfolk asking for your head?!” She exclaims. “Don't you see that it will turn you into someone unrecognizable that you won’t even comprehend? You will lose yourself!”

You clench your jaw and lower your jaw as your glare turns fierce.

“Let it go,” Baela warns. “Let all that anger and thirst for revenge go because it will kill you and I have already lost enough. We both have. Just do it the right away. It may be a longer path but it won’t get you killed.”

You blink as you take in her words. Not because you’re considering them, but because you don’t know what to answer with. Not at that moment.

“No,” is all you muster, and fall quiet again, letting her draw out a deep breath and linger in the growing silence for a moment before you finally blurt words that just bombard your mind. “What if it had been Jace?”

“Don’t,” Baela warns but you continue and lean your face towards the bar.

“I will,” you rebuttal and keep going. “If it had been Jace who had died in that riot you would not think twice about doing what I want to do even if it cost your life!”

“I said don’t!” Baela exclaims and slams her hands on the bars hoping it will scare you off, but you just stare deep into her eyes and try to press her.

Yet there’s no buttons to push. Anger perhaps reigned over her once, but you don’t see it now through the windows that let you take a peek at her tired soul.

“Do what you want,” she says and follows up with your name as she continues. “Just don’t expect me to have your back because your mother is the last person I will grieve in this war,” she remarks and backs away toward the shadows of her cell. “I won’t hold a candle for you anymore,” she adds with an attempt at sounding angry but she sounds more sad than anything else.

“Okay,” you mutter and blink repeatedly, feeling your eyes sting with tears that build up in your eyes, but you don’t let them fall. You draw in a deep breath and nod stiffly in comprehension before you turn and storm away with your agitation almost rising off your head in the form of steam.

How could she of all people expect you to let your anger go? Why can’t she muster the energy to keep pushing a little longer? Isn’t her grief, rage, and agony loud and chaotic too?

Nevertheless, when you reach the door and try to leave the dungeon, the door opens and guards barge in.

There’s no one else in this dungeon for them to take so even if you're pissed off at Baela, you stop in your tracks and turn on your heels to watch them open her cell.

“What are you doing?” You probe with curiosity and worry that form quickly.

When neither of the men answers, you march over to the man yanking Baela out of her cell, and demand an answer. “Where are you taking Lady Baela? Answer me!”

The guard looks at you from the corner of his eyes and deadpans. “The King wants to see her in the courtyard.”

What? What for?

These men won’t answer you, they hardly wanted to answer your previous question, so you turn swiftly and storm past them to reach the courtyard first. That’s when you come to a stop though and get riddled with disgust when the stench of rotting flesh hits your nose before you’re shocked to see that Sunfyre is no longer struggling to stay alive. He’s dead, and Aegon…when you let yourself take him in you notice that his eyes are red and puffy, but they're also mixed with anger.

“What do you want from Baela?” You demand him and struggle to hold his gaze.

“So you do come out of your chambers?” Aegon remarks and doesn’t hold amusement or any kind of teasing glint, his gaze remains narrowed and locked on you. “You’ll see.”

You huff and stomp toward him to keep pressing him, but his sad attempt at a Kingsguard puts themselves in between him and you, leaving only glares to be passed and challenged until Baela is brought forth.

“Sunfyre is dead,” Aegon blurts but there’s a hint of…sadness in his voice and why wouldn’t there be? No matter what you feel about Aegon, he was still a dragonrider and his bond with his dragon was like yours with Astraea, so it’s easy to tell why he expresses such sadness.

“And it’s because of you and your damned dragon,” Aegon hisses and has the guards move aside to let him pass and drag his wooden chair toward Baela. “So it’s good your dragon paid the price, but now you must pay it too.”

“No,” you interrupt him and take a big step forward to try and get close, but a guard once again steps in between and blocks you away from Aegon with his arm.

“I renounced my betrothed to be yours. I am going to be your willing wife once we return to King’s Landing,” you remind him with distress building in your voice. “Which means that our sins have been pardoned, you cannot kill her. Spare her life.”

Aegon tilts his head and shakes it. “No. I already spared your brother's life. He’s a threat to my claim, but I spared him because you and I will marry. That was the only condition you could be granted. No more. She will die for what she did,” he spats in return and then snaps his gaze to the guards holding Baela so they can drag her to the block.

“Aegon!” You exclaim and look at him with desperation. The same desperation you used when your mother was in a similar position. “Please!”

“<I love you.>”.

You gasp and try to move toward Baela now that you have free range, but the guard that had kept you from Aegon wraps his arms around your waist to hold you back, making those words that just echoed in your head get louder, and making the image of her, your mother start forming in your mind and threaten to paralyze you.

“<I love you.>”.

No. No, no, go away. Go away…

“Aegon, please,” you whisper and look over at him with tears that are quick to form in your eyes. “She’s still your cousin. She…she…” you trail off as the image of your mother appears before you in the same way before she died, so you’re forcefully ripped away from the current moment and return to that night.

You see her as clear as day all over again. You see her in front of Sunfyre.

You want to save her, but you can’t. Once again you’re useless in the situation and you watch as the fire bathes her all over again, ripping her away from you.

“NOO!” You bellow and reach out for her, but the moment you blink you’re brought back to reality and Baela is now taking your mother's place.

“The princess is right about sparing Lady Baela’s life,” the new maester interjects and glances at you with concern. “She is still a Velaryon, daughter to Lady Laena, and granddaughter to Lord Corlys. If you kill her he might turn his fleet against you and trap you here. There has been no word about him declaring war so it’s safe to assume you can negotiate a deal but only if his remaining kin are left alive.”

You keep your eyes on Aegon to wait and watch him ponder the decision laid before him while Baela’s head remains on the chopping block.

“Aegon,” you mumble but don’t gain his attention. He keeps his eyes averted and remains silent until he comes up with his answer.

“Alright then. Send a letter to the Sea Snake’s bastard…the living one,” he snickers and steals a glance at you so you know he’s taunting you. “Tell him if he doesn’t present himself in a fortnight to pay homage to his rightful liege, his niece Lady Baela will die.”

The maester bows and scurries off, whilst the guards pull Baela to her feet and without needing to be told, they start dragging her back where they had brought her from, letting you draw out a deep relieved breath, and part away from the guard still holding you back to get close to Baela.

Albeit it’s when you’re near her that she drags her eyes toward you and mutters. “I did not need your help nor did this change my mind about you.”

You blink in disbelief and draw in a shaky breath of shock before you push your nose up in the air and nod stiffly because this hasn’t changed your mind about what you need to do. “If that’s what you want I won’t beg for your attention.”

You let out a deep breath and watch her get taken away with your jaw clenched, and your eyes cloudy with tears unaware of the fact that that would be the last time you would see her. Not forever, but while you waited for a response you were restricted from going down to the dungeons—so much for free range. So you were left waiting in your quarters for days and days for any response whether it was a direct attack or a letter.

Then again, you did not mind being still and waiting because it let you plan what you wanted to do to get rid of Aegon once and for all. Besides, you weren't desperate to look for some way to talk to Baela either. Perhaps you should’ve snuck your way down to the dungeons and made peace with her—it’s what your mother and Jacaerys would have told you to do, but you heard what she said, and you were being honest in what you said too, so you kept your word while you were waiting in your solitude and just planned and let yourself get lost in your thoughts again and again.

That is until finally word came from Kings Landing that your grandfather Lord Corlys had declared his loyalty to Aegon, and that he was pardoned and accepted back in the Small Council after declaring his allegiance to the Broken King. In turn, Baela was spared from her fate and finally brought out from the dark dungeon, but not spared from chains. She would be kept in chains until you reached Kings Landing, which won’t be long now because at long last, “we’re going home”, left Aegon’s lips.

Thus finally after weeks, you were allowed to leave the grey walls and haunting halls of Dragonstone. Yet what was leaving Dragonstone really worth when every waking hour, with every step you take, and every breath you breathe you’re reminded of her, your mother, and her death.

The memory of her death is like a never-ending loop that the sight of the sea can’t wash away while you’re on your way back to King's Landing. Which is such a shame because you really love the sea...

“You know,” you say to Aegon after you debated long and hard if you wanted to speak to him or not—“it was the Smallfolk who killed all the dragons. They’re the ones to blame for not letting you have access to a new dragon.”

Aegon watches the waves splitting against the ship while you watch the clouds with a hint of a smirk.

“I know,” Aegon mutters.

“We have to respond to their treason and rebellion with fire,” you share as you catch a large, winged shadow form in the clouds. “We have to remind them that there are consequences to their actions and that we are still the crown and that they are sheep. Even if they did defy the opposing side.”

Aegon doesn’t respond right away, he stays quiet and continues to watch the way the waves part.

“What would you have me do?” Aegon almost snaps at you, but he manages to keep his composure and just sounds annoyed.

“Let me rain fire on them,” you share the plan you’ve been brewing for a while. “Not the entire city, just a section of it so they remember we hold the power. That they have to look up at us. We are not their equal.”

Aegon slowly diverts his eyes away from the waves and starts to turn his head to look at you, but before he can take a glance the sound of clicking coming from above steals his attention before a roar that rattles the wooden boards and shakes the water's surface blasts from the clouds.

“Why should I trust you not turning against me when you’re on your dragon?” He asks the right question as claws and a purple-scaled belly break the clouds as Astraea reveals only a part of herself first before she dives down in front of the running ship and quickly yet shakily swoops up to the air with a large fish caught in her claws.

“Because,” you say with a faint smile as you watch your dragon go back to hiding in the clouds. “You have my brother's life in your hands and I will do anything to keep my last remaining brother alive.”

You finally drop your eyes to look down at Aegon and await his response, knowing that he knows that if he doesn’t act, people will view him as weak and he doesn’t want people to keep thinking that about him. Not anymore because after all that’s happened he’s still alive and the King.

“Fine. Do it,” Aegon gives in, causing a wicked smirk to break on your lips.

——

“Who is it that you wanted to be?”

A peaceful tranquility can almost be felt radiating from Shae’s Manse as the brisk wind running over King’s Landing almost seems to carry it in between its gusts that hit you while you sit upon your dragon; causing your long sleeves designed like dragon wings, and the end of your crimson dipped skirt to blow behind you while your shining silver chain head peace that falls over your face like a veil, sings as the wind makes the silver chains hit each other lightly.

“Besides wanting to be a sailor, or an explorer, or a singer, I wanted to be Queen; a kind one like my great, great grandmother Queen Alyssane, and my ancestor Queen Rhaenys.”

You’ve had time to think about what you wanted to do and yes there were moments in time when you hesitated and wanted to back off from your plan for the sake of the innocent lives that had to do with running your mother out of town. However, just as your plans fire is going to die out, the sparks of anger, revenge, and agony keep it alive because that same mother returns to haunt your thoughts, and then you can’t stand the thought of the people’s betrayal going unpunished.

Besides, they had their chance and they wasted it. They chose fear, so you will give them something to fear.

“<Forward.>” You command Astraea in Valyrian and nudge the handles down regardless of your verbal command. All without changing a single expression on your face. Even if you're full of rage, your exhaustion, grief, and agony keep their claim on your face, exposing someone who looks empty and tired of everything life has thrown at them, even something as small as expressing emotion.

Then again you are tired. You’re tired of it all. You just want silence and a moment of stillness and where else can you find it but here? In this current moment as Astraea flies past the wall and brings the Smallfolk a moment of darkness as her shadow casts over the streets, homes, and busybodies.

However, the darkness doesn’t scare them right away because when they look up they see The Adventurous Astraea, a dragon known as tolerant to people, protective and kind to those you love, and obedient to her rider. So they look away from the purple beast. Some welcome the dragon as they start to feel immediately safer due to all the criminal activity that has ravished the city. However, they should have known. They should have expected consequences for their crimes.

No bad deed goes unpunished and you are here now for justice. You are your mother and Joffrey’s revenge.

You are their terror.

“Dracarys,” you sneer and lift your chin slightly to look down at the people with a change in your gaze, going from an exhausted and empty look to a pierced glare reflecting the roaring fire as it falls from Astraea’s mouth and rains down on the people.

There’s no hesitation, no pause, or a small taste of justice. The cries and screams don’t reach your heart because now it’s impenetrable. Like a nasty and quick plague, the fire keeps unfolding over the streets of Shae’s Manse, causing that beautiful tranquility that once traveled past the city walls to erupt into an uproar of chaos.

Some people that were lucky to escape the flames that ate away at everything and everyone in its way, found salvation in Flea Bottom. However, the same can’t be said for the people who try to escape toward Rhaeny’s Hill because you and Astraea turn your terror toward it.

If only the Dragonpit had been intact because people could be safe and untouched by the fire in there, but alas, it was the Smallfolk who caused the Dragonpit to fall when they killed those dragons. It was their own stupidity that destroyed their biggest means of salvation because Astraea doesn’t put it up in flames, you make sure to leave it untouched by any flames.

When you fly past what was once the city’s greatest wonder, you continue to spread your terror with more vigor. With more rage and pure visceral hate because if it wasn’t for them your mother would have never fled King’s Landing! She wouldn’t have fallen in Aegon’s clutches! And she would still be alive!

But no, they ran her out of her home. They killed your brother Joffrey and took the person you loved the most. Them! They did it! Every single filthy person below was the cause of your mother's death. They robbed you of your hope, joy, and light and left you in the dark void where all you have is your pain that throbs in the same way your heart beats. And with every single ba-dum, there's a reminder of what you lost and the pain it brings. And with every other beat the pain and the hate that was already so overwhelming spreads.

How much more of it can you handle? You don’t want to hurt, but you can’t forget. The pain is constant and the memory is haunting and loud! You just want it to stop!

“Please, please, please,” you beg in your mind and close your eyes, but Sunfyre ripping your mother apart flashes in your mind. You see her dying over and over again and it all grows louder.

The cries and pleas coming from below grow tenfold, adding the volume in your head. The fire's constant roar heightens too and it all starts to swirl in your head until you let out a blood-curdling scream that finally brings silence.

The fire that you rain doesn’t come to a stop, you continue to spread it as you fly down the Street of Seeds, but everything is quiet. There’s a peace in the chaos that you alone relish in until finally you hit Cobble Square and have Astraea finally stop, letting you tune into the noise once again.

However, rather than turning your dragon around and flying toward the Red Keep, you descend your dragon and land on Cobble Square to watch the beauty of the flames as they rise toward the sky, and the thick smoke pollutes the air. Furthermore in that moment as you stand there taking it all in, a swarm of people who were unscathed, and people who were caught on fire run toward you, but not to seek your attention nor is it because they’re full of wonder by your appearance. The people ran past you in terror. They don’t try to touch you or ask for a simple greeting, they shove past you because they’re terrified.

And that's all you wanted, but not all you see. You also see your mother standing in the middle of the chaos that runs at you; she glows in the chaos and outshines the bright flames, but doesn’t carry any notable emotion. She just watches you and you watch her as if telling her that this is all for her.

After a lingering minute of the world just being about her illusion and you, you decide to turn away and mount your dragon to fly to the Red Keep. This time when you land, people don’t run, nor do they look at you with fear. You find horror in the eyes of the survivors like Alicent, Lord Borros, Lord Larys, and your grandfather Lord Corlys as they stand in the courtyard after having greeted their King.

Your grandfather tries to find the answer in your eyes, but when he finds your gaze past your veil of chains he sees a glossy yet narrowed and burning gaze. That girl he was looking for is gone; he sees that when you stop by him, but that's not all because he’s the only one who looks deeper than the surface. Everyone else sees a mad woman who couldn’t be stopped because it was the King himself who allowed the terror to happen.

“Welcome home, Princess. It’s good to see you again.” Your grandfather breaks his stunned silence, making you slowly find his gaze and neither smile nor frown. Your gaze remains glossy and hardened and keeps holding that fiery behind them that tells him without a need for words that there’s nothing good about being back.

“Did they find the guilty party for the uprising?” You ask bluntly without returning his warmth despite the fire you hold. “I want to see them”

Your grandfather sighs and hesitates before he nods. “Yes, but,” he pauses. “The King wants to wait until after the wedding to pass judgment on the guilty. He is eager…” he trails off and you avert your gaze and nod stiffly before you walk without bothering to greet anyone else even though Lord Borros had restored peace to the city, and Alicent couldn’t keep her eyes off you, almost like she wanted to talk to you but also couldn’t bring herself to do it, so instead she just stands there watching you until you completely disappear inside and aren't seen again. Not like before.

Before you were spotted in the halls of the Red Keep frequently. When you were young it always varied whether you were alone or accompanied, but you truly lived up to the name they had given you, “The Golden Girl.” It was always such a delight for so many to see you. And when you got older, when you returned from the North, people often sought out a mere glimpse of your appearance as you had grown more glorious, and it’s not like you didn’t give them a reason not to seek you out, because oh, you did. You intrigued them more with the warmth that flowed from you and embraced their presence like the sun embraced everyone it saw.

Now no one sought you out, you were not a glorious presence riddled with warmth. You would be like a dark cloud bringing in a storm that everyone wants gone and wants to avoid; if you would get out of your quarters that is, but you didn’t. You stayed inside your quarters as if locked inside, making everyone believe you felt safer and more comfortable within your four walls, but that was far from the truth. You’re miserable. You can hardly sleep or stand being awake. You hardly eat and don’t do anything you used to like. You hardly see your children. You’re just there wallowing in everything that torments you.

When the day of the wedding rolls around (which was only two days after you returned) you did manage to get in a few winks of sleep and when you woke up there he was, your husband, your Aemond. He’s still asleep with his long blond-silver hair in a braid, and his calm breaths making his chest and nostrils rise and fall ever so gently.

He honestly looks like a beautiful piece of artwork that you can admire for hours, but alas, you want to be that much closer to him so you raise your hand right from under you and reach out for his cheek to stroke it.

Yet, when your hand is about to make contact with his flesh you're abruptly reminded that no one is lying beside you, and Aemond is in fact dead. You wake up alone in a cold room looking at an empty space, remembering, like a slap to the face, that today is your wedding to the man you hate.

You could jump out of your balcony and avoid the entire thing, but they’re all now depending on you, aren’t they? Everyone that died? They depend on you to try and get your mother's own blood on her rightful throne. You can feel the pressure of their haunting hands holding you up, pushing you to keep fighting another day and walk down that aisle to play your part in this war still kept alive by sparks and people fanning the flames.

Thus you let the army of women get you ready. You drape on your heavy ivory wedding gown dipped in crimson red, and hide your grieving and hardened face behind a crystal-littered veil before you finally drag your feet out of your quarters.

This time around your wedding isn’t private nor is it done under Valyrian traditions like when Aemond and you married on that hill with no one but your dragons, Helaena, his mother, and Aegon. The sun isn’t out, and the sea isn’t accompanying you either, snow graces Kings Landing as it gently falls from the sky, and hundreds pairs of eyes are forced to be your witness to show the people that at long last the Targaryen family had mended their differences and rejoined their forces as one.

War will surely end now, and peace will finally return to the realm!

That’s all they want, that’s all they care about. They don’t care about Aegon marrying you, they stopped caring about you the moment you turned your dragon against them, so they don’t care if you look miserable. Not even the highborn Lords that stand nearby care that you never lift your head off the ground throughout the ceremony done under the eyes of the Seven. They just care about finally reeling you in and locking you away to bring an end to the war (they started).

The only people who care are Cregan who is too far to do anything to stop the wedding, and you, but they can’t hear you screaming and crying because you suffer quietly and act like the cooperating princess. That’s what you let Aegon see when he drapes his cloak on your back to signify that you’re at last his, cooperation and emptiness, and that’s what you continue to show him when he lifts the veil off your face. However, he ignores that as he's eager to finally know the taste of your lips.

“You truly are radiant today,” he says with a faint smirk, making you offer him a soft scoff as a response before you stand to your given height after having to crouch to his level, causing the veil to slip over on your face as you turn away from him to let the ceremony continue to the second portion; your coronation.

However, as much as you dreamt and as excited as you once were to hear those glorious words directed at you. Now you simply tune them out and don’t even think about smiling or mustering any ounce of pride when the time comes for the crown to be placed upon your veiled-covered head.

Albeit you also don’t look like there’s no soul inside your body. When you turn to face the crowd of people, your eyebrows are slightly furrowed, the corner of your lips droop with your faint scowl, and the crystal fragments on your veil cascade down so perfectly that it looks like there’s tears rolling down your cheeks, leading the audience to see you as some ethereal beauty; like those tapestries and statues of beautiful weeping gods. However, it’s all a trick of the bright white light reflecting through the windows of the Great Sept, because the mist in your eyes reflects the flames of ferocity still very much alive inside.

——

*LATER THAT NIGHT*

It’s a good thing Aegon can’t get his cock up anymore or else the night would be unpleasant and traumatizing. And it was almost traumatizing, but when it came to the bedding ceremony he couldn’t make it work, no matter the hunger in his eyes, so he began to drink and sent you off after he told you to swear that you wouldn’t tell a soul what happened.

But who could you tell? Baela? She doesn’t talk to you even though she’s not living in a cell anymore.

Vanessa? Sure, but the conversation will get a couple of laughs before it’s over and done with.

Rhaena? She’s still in the Eyrie and by the time she responds your amusement would have died down, so no there’s no one you could have actually told, he’s made sure of that…

Nevertheless, it’s a good thing the bedding ceremony didn’t last—or start to begin with because now you can put all your focus on the significant matter at hand.

“Ser Cane!” You greet excitedly as you watch him taking his hood off as he’s climbing up the steps of the Red Keep.

“Your Grace,” he responds with a hint of warmth in his otherwise nonchalant voice. “Look at you,” he muses and when he finally reaches you on top of the staircase he bows before he puts his arms out. “I hope it was a safe delivery.”

You avert your gaze and respond quietly. “It was a rather stressful one but the three of us are alive so it was safe.”

Your sworn protector sighs and drops one arm back to his side while he lets the other one hover over your shoulder for a second before he lets it fall gently. “My deepest condolences about your loss, my Queen.”

You blink repeatedly and feel your eyes sting at the weight of his words because you can hear that he actually means what he says, but you refuse to cry so you just take a deep breath and look up at him with a thankful smile. “Thank you Ser…was your trip here pleasant?”

Ser Cane drops his hand and shrugs. “As good as it gets.”

You scoff softly in response before you point your head inside. “Let’s get inside. It’s cold out here.”

Without any protest or attempt to add anything right there on the staircase where you have prying eyes, Ser Cane follows you inside to a secluded corner barely touched by nearby candlelight.

“How was the wedding?” Ser Cane asks with a hint of amusement.

“Pft,” you blow out and turn around on your heels with a smirk. “I got to wear beautiful gowns, and I now own beautiful crowns so I’ll say it was pleasant.”

Ser Cane scoffs and when you’re facing each other under the faint candlelight you begin to fiddle with your rings and probe. “Is Cregan okay? Safe?”

“He was worried,” Ser Cane admits as he watches your downcasted gaze. “He almost went mad with worry, but when we heard word of your wellbeing he calmed down. I’m sure he would be here in a heartbeat given the chance, but he’s keeping his head up and doing his job. He’s waiting on his army, they should reach him soon.”

Your lips fall as you nod gently in comprehension and take it all in without letting the news ache your heart too much. You feel it get tugged at as you imagine what Cregan might be feeling and thinking after you had finally gotten your chance to start your long-awaited story together, but he can’t take up all your thoughts nor can you let him torment you too harshly because there’s still a sliver of hope. If he gives you one more chance then there will be no more obstacles after this.

“How did he take the news about me being engaged to Aegon?” You have to ask as that specific thought has been killing you since he couldn’t respond back with a letter of his thoughts on the matter.

“I don’t know,” Ser Cane admits with a sigh. “I’m sorry, your Grace. He read the letter in his private quarters and when he came out, well…you know how he is. Cool as ice.”

The corner of your lips twitch up and you nod in agreement before you ask one more thing. “You didn’t tell him why you left, did you?”

Ser Cane scoffs. “Of course not. Who do you take me for?”

You smile and tilt your head to the side. “I am not doubting you Ser, I just know that if he had asked, you wouldn’t have denied him an answer. You’re respectful that way.”

Ser Cane pulls something out of his satchel that’s hidden behind his cloak and then shakes his head. “Not with your personal matters, My Queen,” he says with a small proud smile that stays on his face as he hands you a small flask wrapped with parchment paper.

Before you pull the paper off the flask though, you offer him a flustered smile and then proceed to take the paper off to read the words it holds.

“You are going down the right path.

I will see you soon enough. Until then.

-Alys”

You smile softly and with admiration, before you hand the letter to Ser Cane so he can put it away while you lift your hand to look at the slow-acting poison you asked Alys to concoct for you.

“Great. Now I hope you’re able to stand on your feet for a while longer, Ser because we have work to do,” you let him know with a smug hint in your tone of voice as you hand him the flask so he can keep it hidden for you in his satchel for now.

“Of course, I can,” he assures you, making you flash him a smirk before you depart from your dimly lit corner and return to your quarters, but not to stay there. You take the hidden passage hidden within the walls of your quarters and guide Ser Cane down corridors festered with rats and only lit by the torch that you both hold in your hands.

There are many times when your sworn protector wants to question where you’re leading him, but he trusts you so follows you blindly until finally, you hit a stone wall that holds a doorknob.

“Here,” you point your chin to the doorknob on the wall.

“Are you sure?” Ser Cane asks for your safety.

You hum in agreement and take his torch before you step aside to let him open the door.

Once the light from inside the room casts outside you hang the torches on the wall, and let Ser Cane take the lead to the mysterious room.

“Who goes there?” A voice from inside carries out, but doesn’t get answered as Ser Cane stomps in, nor when you strut behind him and get surrounded by the brighter room. You let the sight of your presence answer the question your grandfather, Baela, and Lord Larys ask themselves.

“Granddaughter,” your grandfather gasps as he watches you quietly stride toward the chair at the end of the table.

“Queen,” Ser Cane corrects him as he closes the secret door. “She’s your Queen.”

“Your Grace,” your grandfather corrects himself whilst Lord Larys immediately greets you with the right title and Baela stays quiet.

Albeit you ignore the greetings so it doesn’t matter. You just take a seat on the chair that steals all of the attention of the room, and sit up straight with your nose in the air and a smirk dancing on your lips.

“Sit my Lords and Lady, we have a coup to plan.”

.

.

.

.

.

A/N- Ser Cane the father that stepped up

Tagged- @namelesslosers @stargaryenx @chainsawsangel @lauftivy @winxschester @cloudroomblog @llarue @padsdarlg @sofietargaryen @gracielikegrapes @dreaming-of-the-reality @itzelpeyton @patdsinner33 @mrsdominickstark @elaena-aerrin @todoroki-slut @snh96 @urmomsgirlfriend1 @nifujiswhore @sweethoneyblossom1 @kaetastic @lightdragonrayne @squidscottjeans @oh-you-mean-me @wallacewillow0773638 @icefrye19 @thescottpack @fiction-fanfic-reader @crazymusicgirl104 @r-3dlips @strangersunghoon @just-pure-trash @ethereal-athalia @missyviolet123 @callsignwidow @xunquish-blog @tabathastan @weepingfashionwritingplaid @answer-the-sirens @silverlightsaber @rosey1981 @amortentiaaaa

[keraxxx]

Hate or Jealousy? -Part one

Pairing- Oliver Quick x F!Reader

Summary- When your cousin, Felix, invited his friend Oliver over to Saltburn for the summer, you hated him and didn’t know why.. you want to figure out his intentions.

Warnings- Cursing, possible mentions of ed, slightly bitchy reader(js spoiled n rich so), masturbation, possible stalking, not proof read

A/N-Happy new year! I hope everything is going well for you guys. I just watched Saltburn last night and OH MY GOD. I had to pause the movie a few times and think abt what I had just watched. Still an amazing movie of course and ik I had to write something about Oliver. so enjoy!! (inspo is from venetia and oliver's interactions.) word count- 1.4k

comment to be added to tag list. NEXT PART HERE

Requests are open!

—

For some reason, you didn't like Oliver. You didn't like the way he looked at you when Felix first invited him, it was as if he was trying to undress you with his eyes.. Did you hate him? Were you jealous of him? Or did you find him slightly attractive? You couldn't make up your mind. It was all over the place, emotions poking and showing on your face as you looked at him almost in a judgmental way. You think it was also the way he acted, all sweet and innocent.. his eyes showed someone different. He's hiding himself. but why?

Everyone is sitting at the table, Felix sat next to you and Oliver is sitting across. Everyone is conversing as normal, but you stay silent, nothing in the conversation is peaking your interest since your aunt, Elspeth, is just gossiping. You pick at your plate with your fork, unable to eat a single thing, your free hand messing with the silky fabric of your red dress. You look across the table and look at Oliver, practically glaring at him without a care. His features weren’t bad if you were being honest with yourself. It’s almost as if he knew you were looking at him because he diverts his attention to you quickly. You look back down at your plate, embarrassed he saw you. You saw him smile before getting back into the conversation with the family again.

After dinner, everyone disperses to their room and you walk back to your room. You sigh as you lay down on your bed, spreading out onto the duvet. You curl your pillow in your arms and rest your chin on it. Sighing, you kick your legs up behind you, swaying slightly as you think to yourself.. you think about Oliver. You couldn’t get him out of your head. Why was he so interesting to you? Something about him made you want to investigate him, figure out his intentions but it’s too early to do that now since he just got here. Time passes and you’re still lying down thinking about the whole situation, unable to sleep. Sighing, you hop off your bed and walk out your room.

You sit on a stone bench near the garden, hugging your cold goosebump filled arms as you look out into the distance. You hear footsteps and turn your head to see Oliver, wrapped up in a blanket you assumed he took off his bed. You raise your eyebrow curiously as you look him up and down. “I thought you were sleepwalking.” He chuckles slightly and looks down at you timidly. “Yeah no.” You force a small smile. “Couldn’t sleep , that’s all.” Oliver unravels himself and puts the blanket over your shoulders. “It’s cold out.” He says in a soft tone, puffing out his chest as he inhales. You scan over his boxer briefs with a hidden smirk, his tone arms and stomach staring back at you. “Are you not cold?”

You snap out of your trance and look up. “I am actually. Thanks.” You laugh dryly as you maintain eye contact. Oliver doesn't break it, he keeps his blue eyes locked on yours with an almost untrue smile. "Are you not cold?" You laugh as you refer to his almost naked body. He shakes his head and laughs embarrassedly. "N-No.. i'm fine." You nod your head and eventually look away.

"I see why Felix likes you." Oliver hums in confusion. "You're different.." You stand up, hugging the blanket around you still. "But.. I see you, Ollie." You whisper as you get closer. "I see you hiding." His lips tug up into a small smirk. "Yeah?"

"Yeah.." You look him up and down one last time before walking off, taking the blanket he gave you. His eyes were burning a hole in the back of your head as he watched you with a smug expression.

-

Next morning comes and as usual, the whole family is gathered up again, eating breakfast. Oliver comes and sits in the empty seat next to you. You look down at your thighs and clear your throat before taking a sip of your drink. Oliver conversates with your aunt, attempting to be nice. You look across the table to Felix and hum knowingly. He laughs as he looks at you, shaking his head before going back to eating.

After eating, you, Farleigh, Felix, Venetia, and Oliver hang out near the small lake. You and Farleigh are sitting next to Venetia on the dock, her hair in the water as she lays on her back, Felix and Oliver sitting on some chairs by the side.

"I don't think I like him." You say softly as you look over at him and Felix conversing. "Well he is Felix's toy.." "And we know Felix doesn't like sharing his toys." Venetia says in a teasing yet sarcastic tone. "True.." You hum as you bring your knees to your chest. "You think he'll last long?" You look at them both and they quickly shake their heads no.

"I think Felix is gonna get bored of him soon. He's so clingy.. and he was a nerd no one wanted to sit with at college so." Farleigh shrugs as he tugs at his curls. You stifle a giggle and roll your eyes sarcastically. "Oh stop.. he's such a sweet boy." You say in a softer tone. "Lets not lie now." Venetia scoffs before she laughs. You look over at Oliver again and you can see him eyeing you down.. that same stare that he did when you first met. He's undressing you again. You look away with a small eye roll and continue your conversation with Farleigh and Venetia. "I swear he's hiding something.." You scoff as you look down at your knees. "He's always looking at me as if he's trying to see how much i'm worth.." Venetia lifts her sunglasses up to the top of her head and looks at him. "Maybe he wants to get in your pants." She teases. You and Farleigh laugh and you gently hit her arm.

Its dinner time again and this time you're wearing a long white dress with a fold-over off shoulder look. You're picking at your food, again, still processing Oliver in your head. He needed to get out of your head for god's sake, you didn't like the boy. "So Oliver.." Elspeth starts, "How are you finding it here?" She looks at him with a smile and he smiles back. "Uh- Yeah.. yeah it's nice. I get lost sometimes but I find my way." "Good." She smiles and takes a sip of her red wine. Oliver looks down at his plate with a smile as the small chatter around the table starts up again. He looks up at you and you look back. "Did you ever go to sleep last night?" He asks in a restrained voice, just loud enough for you to hear. You nod slowly. "Mhm.." He smiles at your response. "Good." His words stuck to you, as if he wanted you to say yes.. almost as if you obeyed him in some way. You look down and drag your teeth along your bottom lip, feeling some sort of arousal course through your body, finding its way to your core. You just had to get through dinner.

Dinner is done and thank god it was. You felt as if you were about to burst, it was dreadful. You go to your bathroom, making sure to shut the door, and draw yourself a bath. You run your hand under the water, checking the temperature and immediately hum in satisfaction. You strip yourself of your dress and undergarments, leaving them on the floor by the tub. You sink into the tub, moaning at the nice feeling of warm water against your frigid body. You hum to yourself as you snake you hand under the water and down your stomach, finding your swollen bud. You let out a soft groan as you slowly move your digits against your clit, your hips moving in rhythm. You tilt your head back against the edge of the tub, your mouth left open as you let out inaudible moans. You had yourself yearning for more, the only image in your head is the man you hate, Oliver. You replaced your hand with his, imaging he was with you at the moment rubbing your soaking wet cunt. You whined and moved your fingers faster, your legs lifting up slightly. You bite your lip and cursed to yourself as you felt yourself growing closer to release, your eyes fluttering close. You wanted him so bad but you fucking hated him.

Your whines and whimpers fill the bathroom, probably almost loud enough for the whole manor to hear. You could just imagine him kissing on your neck while he fingers you against the counter of your bathroom, forcing you to look in the mirror while you moan out his name. Your juices dripping down his hand and his groans against your neck vibrating your body. You feel a knot forming in your stomach and you eagerly buck yourself into your hand while you moan uncontrollably. Your back arches and you can your legs shake slightly as you finish. You pant, pulling you hand off your clit. You exhale as your eyes open slightly. Turning your head, you look at the door and noticed it was cracked open. You swore you had shut the door and you bite your lip nervously.

Was someone watching you?

-

[anomalyaly]

I See the Light

CW: NSFW. EXPLICIT SEXUAL CONTENT, MINORS DNI. ALL CHARACTERS ARE 18+ READERS DISCRETION ADVISED

Written for the OHL discord server February NSFW event. Flynn Rider!Sebastian teaches an unnamed FMC!Rapunzel something new.

~3k words

[AO3/Wattpad]

Tags: Tangled!AU, Sebastian Sallow x nameless FMC, first time (for her), fingering (F receiving), oral sex (F receiving and a hint of M receiving), face sitting, masturbation, unprotected vaginal sex, they're in a forest so I guess public sex but nobody is around, fast and hard because I am burdened by the word count limitations

It started out as a harmless prank.

One that involved stealing a crown from the royal palace. It wasn't as if someone with that much money would miss one crown made of enough precious metals, he could bribe anyone and their mother for whatever he wanted with it.

After all, he was the Sebastian Sallow — the greatest known thief in the land.

Everything was going so smoothly, running from the law, until he stumbled upon an odd clearing in the forest, a tall tower in the distance. His unfortunate, or perhaps, very fortunate decision to climb up it is what had gotten him into this situation in the first place, traipsing the forest with an odd girl — a very beautiful girl — but odd nonetheless, who had been mysteriously trapped within the isolated tower.

What made the girl odd was that she kept a suspicious secret about her reasons for being locked away — and the fact that she had hair that was a ridiculous length for that of a normal human being. Hair that had been long enough to stretch from the window to the base of the tower that she resided in.

She had even brandished a frying pan as a weapon. The naivety of this girl. However, she had taken his stolen crown and hidden it away, offering only to return it to him if he agreed to her terms.

Fine. If that's what it took to get it back, Sebastian reluctantly agreed. It shouldn't be too difficult to bring one innocent girl to the kingdom to see some lanterns and return her home in one day, right?

Wrong.

After the girl had several panic attacks upon exiting her tower, they were chased by palace guards and nearly drowned in their attempt to escape. He supposed it was mostly his fault, being a wanted man, but their adventure had nearly cost both of them their lives.

For him, he supposed it was only a matter of time until fate caught up with his misdeeds. But the poor girl was innocent. And he had nearly gotten her killed.

Both of them collapsed on the ground in the forest, deciding to make camp for the night. Exactly twenty-four hours until the lantern festival.

"I'm sorry," he murmured. "I never meant to — I didn't mean for it to go this far."

He tucked his injured hand behind his back, but she noticed it right away. "You're hurt."

"I'll be fine."

"No," she murmured, pulling it closer to her and wrapping her hair around it, "let me help."

He scoffed, "I highly doubt that — "

He was cut off as she started to sing a cryptic lullaby. He was about to stop her until he noticed that her hair was glowing. And as he pulled his hand away from her hair, her song finished, and the wound was completely healed.

"How did you — "

"My hair," she quickly said, "it...can heal people when I sing. That's why I was...why I had to stay in that tower. To protect it. To protect me."

"You never left? At all?"

The girl shook her head, smiling sheepishly. He studied her carefully, noting the blush on her cheeks glowing in the firelight. He scooted closer to her. "That...must have been lonely."

"Sometimes," she agreed, "but....I read, a lot. I like to think of the characters in my stories as my friends." She grinned. "The romances were my favorite."

"Really?" He was intrigued. "What did you like most about them?"

Her face reddened further. "I...well, when they kissed. I always wondered what it feels like."

"Yeah?" He tucked a strand of hair behind her ear. "I have quite the experience in that area, you know. I could always show you."

He meant it as a joke, somewhat, but she immediately perked up. "You'd do that?"

"What?" Sebastian gaped. "I-I mean...yes, I suppose. If...if that's what you— " He wasn't certain where he was going with this idea. Kissing strangers in pubs was one matter, but her? She was innocent, naive, and inexperienced.

"Yes," she nodded emphatically. "Please. I...I want to know."

He cleared his throat. "Alright then. Just...just follow my lead."

He leaned closer to her and gently cupped her cheek in his hand. "I'm...I'm going to kiss you now."

Her eyes fluttered closed. "I'm ready."

He swallowed, then gently pressed his lips to hers. She didn't move, her nervousness and lack of experience showing, and he guided her as he pulled her closer to him, feeling her soft lips against his. He threaded his fingers through her hair and dared to run his tongue along her lower lip, and she elicited a soft moan.

Oh shit.

He hadn't expected to be turned on this easily. How long had it been since he had last physically been with someone?

She responded a bit too enthusiastically, wrapping her arms around him and pressing herself flush against him. He grabbed her arms and pushed her back slightly.

"W-wait," he said, stopping her mid-kiss. "I...I thought it was just a kiss. Not—" he shook his head.

She tilted her head innocently. "What do you mean?"

"I mean," he breathed, attempting to clear his thoughts that were becoming increasingly wild. "You — you can't just respond like that and...and not expect something to happen." He smiled lightly. "I'm only a man, after all. I have...urges."

She furrowed her brows. "Urges?" Then, she brightened in understanding. "Oh! Like...sexual urges."

Sebastian actually blushed. Why did it suddenly seem so dirty when she said it? "Well...yes."

"Teach me."

"What?!"

She held him firmly. "Teach me," she insisted. "I'm only going to be outside of my tower for one more day. I...I want to learn."

"I — " How could he say no? "Are you sure?"

"Yes." She sighed. "You saved my life, and you're taking me to see the lanterns. I want it to be you."

Sebastian took a deep breath. "Alright." If that was what she wanted. She had asked for it, after all. "I'm...I'll go slow, okay? Just...if you feel uncomfortable...."

"Sebastian." She let out a huff.

"Okay! Okay." He gritted his teeth before his lips collided with hers once more, still maintaining the gentleness of their first kiss, but with more fervor, his intent clear.

Her resounding moan vibrated along his lips and sent shivers down his spine. He wasn't inexperienced, but he had certainly never taken a girl's innocence before. It was much easier to go after a quick fuck, a one-night stand to scratch an itch before moving on to his next endeavor — which mostly centered around thievery. Sex was simply an outlet.

This, however, was different.

He ran his hands along her arms and trailed his fingers up her bodice, deftly undoing the lacing on her corset and letting the rest of her dress fall to the ground. His lips left hers, and he planted soft kisses along her neck before pulling back to look at her. "Is this al— "

"Stop asking me if it's alright," she grumbled. "I will tell you if something is wrong."

Right. He had never been so nervous to fuck someone before. It really had been too long.

His hungry gaze roamed over her untouched, bare body. Years in the tower left her skin soft and silky, a stark contrast to his rough and calloused hands. He lightly traced them over her bare breast and smiled as she shivered at his touch.

"Feel good?" He asked. She nodded. He leaned in to whisper in her ear. "I can do things that will feel even better, sweetheart. Just trust me."

He pulled back to undo the buttons on his shirt and shrugged it off, throwing it to the side and wrapping his arms around her once more. He guided her to the soft grass and laid her beneath him as he continued to trail kisses along her delicate skin.

"Let me take care of you," he murmured, and he took one of her peaked nipples in between his lips.

The way she arched her body into his made it even clearer that she had never been touched, every inch of her overly sensitive to his gentle caresses. His fingers danced along her thighs, tracing the freckles along the inside of one before expertly finding her center.

Her form trembled in ecstasy beneath him as he lightly circled her clit, his finger already coated in her slick, preparing her for everything that was to follow. Sebastian was eager to be inside her, his own arousal beginning to peek through his trousers, but he would make sure she was taken care of first.

"That feels — really — really good," she panted, and her fingers dug into his back. He carefully slipped a digit inside of her and gently curled it against the perfect spot, grinning as her hips bucked against his hand.

"Oh!" He could feel her tightening around his finger, knowing she was getting closer to her peak. He wondered if she had ever orgasmed before, if she had ever managed to complete herself on her own, locked in the tower for so many years, or if he would be the first to bring her over the edge.

The thought of it even being a possibility sent a surge of pride through him.

"It's alright, sweetheart," he encouraged, his face pressed into her neck so he could whisper praises into her ear. "Relax and let go. Let me make you feel good." He slipped a second finger inside for good measure.

It sent her over the edge, and when he curled his fingers again, she arched her back and let out a wanton cry. He planted kisses along her neck as she trembled beneath him, working her through her orgasm and murmuring encouragements against her.

"Beautiful," he whispered as he watched her face relax, her eyes heavy-lidded and her body spent. He slid further down her body until his face settled between her legs. He felt her grasp his arm and glanced up at her.

"Wait!" She clutched his arm. "W-what are you doing?"

Sebastian grinned. "Did you think we were done?" He planted a light kiss on her inner thigh. "Oh, no, love. We're just getting started."

He continued to leave a path of kisses from her thigh until he hovered over her core once more. "Just relax, and let me make you feel good."

She chewed on her lower lip nervously, but when she nodded and leaned back again, he leaned forward and pressed his tongue to her center, sliding gracefully along her folds until he felt her melt into his touch. His strong hands gripped her thighs firmly, and he encouraged her to spread herself wider for him.

"Mfph!" She whimpered, worrying her lower lip still between her teeth as she tried to hold back. Sebastian pulled his tongue away, and she groaned at the space he left.

"Nobody is here, darling," he murmured, his warm breath grazing over her. "I want to hear everything. I want to hear how good I make you feel."

"B-but —"

Sebastian tightened his grip on her thigh. "If you go quiet, I'll stop." It wasn't a true threat, as he would never stop if he knew she would let him have her, his own desire growing by the minute.

But she agreed, and when he circled her with his tongue again, she gasped. Her hands flew to his head and tangled themselves in his curls, and he couldn't help himself as he let out a guttural moan, burying himself in her as he fucked her with his mouth. She arched her hips into him, and he silently prayed to whatever powers were out there that, if he were to die, it would be from suffocating himself against her, drowning in her sweetness.

Merlin, how badly he wanted her to ride his face.

He gently pried her hands off of his head and slid his body away from her, almost feeling a bit guilty at her cries of protest. But he wasn't going to let her off that easily. He tugged his trousers off and tossed them haphazardly to the side, somewhere between the thickening forest and wherever his shirt hand ended up, and laid down on the ground.

She furrowed her brows in confusion. "What — "

"Come here," he said, guiding her hips over top of him. "I want you to angle yourself here and...and do what I was doing to you."

The young woman blinked at him. "You mean...sit...here?"

Sebastian bit back a groan at her innocence. "Yes. And you...move along my tongue in whatever way makes you feel good."

She nodded and settled herself on his face. "Like this?"

He wasted no time before getting to work, and he moaned with pride when she rested her weight atop him and ground herself into his mouth. She was so wet, he could feel his face already coated with her juices. Yes, this is most certainly how I wish to die.

She bucked her hips in a ragged movement, and he knew she was already nearing another orgasm. He reached between himself and wrapped his hand around his hardened length, stroking himself desperately to the rhythm she set. His tongue lapped against her as if he was a man starved and she was his final meal.

"Sebastian-! I-I can't — I have to —!"

He pressed his face into her and groaned against her clit, the vibrations dragging her to her climax. She yanked on his curls and rode out the rest of her orgasm, her body shaking with sensitivity. It took everything he had not to lose himself — he was saving that for her.

And oh, he would enjoy every second of being inside her.

She lifted herself off of his face and tried to climb off, but he held her hips in place. "I want you to be able to take the lead."

"But," she blushed, "I don't know what I'm doing."

"That's precisely it." His thumbs traced small circles along her hips. "I'm going to guide you, but I want you to be able to set your own pace. Whatever makes you comfortable. That way — " He quirked a smile at her, "I know for certain you're enjoying it."

And he could enjoy watching her.

He helped position her as she knelt, hovering over his throbbing erection. Sebastian wasn't the patient type, but he knew the reward that awaited him would be worth it. His breath hitched as she traced a line up his length with her delicate fingers.

"Can I...?" she asked shyly, as if voicing the question was more vulgar than what he had just done to her.

He swallowed back a whimper. "P-please."

She stroked his cock once, twice, testing his reaction, and Sebastian was more than willing to give it to her. Her feather-light touches had him wanting more when suddenly, she leaned down and dragged her tongue along it in an experimental lick.

Fuck.

He hadn't realized how sensitive he had gotten from not being touched for so long.

"N-not...not now," he managed, his voice strained.

She glanced up at him, and the sight of her pink lips hovering over the seeping head of his cock tempted him, pleaded with him to thrust into her mouth and coat her tongue. But he wanted something else more.

"I need to be inside you."

She blushed and straddled his hips, and he could feel the heat radiating from her as her wet cunt settled on top of his cock. She nibbled on her lower lip, breathing steadily as she adjusted to the feel of him.

"Take your time, love," he said roughly.

He gasped raggedly as she slowly slipped him inside of her, forcing him to control his urges and allow her time to adjust. She was tight, perfectly fitted around him and he struggled to resist burying himself in her and fucking her until they were both seeing stars.

And then, she sank all the way down, a soft sigh of contentment leaving her lips at the feel of him.

It was almost too much, the way her cunt enveloped him, and as she began to move achingly unhurried, he reactively snapped his hips into hers and released a needy groan.

"That...feels good to you?" She practically breathed the words out.

Sebastian could only manage a nod as his thumbs dug into her thighs. He was too sensitive, too desperate, too touch-starved to control himself.

Thank Merlin she could sense his need.

"Take me," she panted as she rode him, angled just so that her tits bounced in front of his face, carved as perfectly as a Greek statue and yet so supple he couldn't resist pressing his face into them. She let out another soft whimper. "Take me how you want me."

It was his undoing.

He grasped her hips roughly and thrust into her, fast, hard, taking and taking everything he wanted at her command. He was hers, whether she knew it or not, and if she had asked him to, he would have burned the world for her if it meant making this moment last forever.

She leaned forward, wrapping her arms around him and tucking her face into his neck, biting and sucking gently at his pulse point as she mimicked what he had taught her, their bodies moving in tandem as he drove himself into her. And when she finally cried out, her body tightening around him as she came, he clumsily followed right after, his rhythm ragged, spilling himself inside and muffling a groan against her long hair that he was certain was still glowing in the middle of the forest.

It was faster than he had planned, yet more powerful than anything he could have imagined. But when he looked at her, their sweaty bodies still clinging to each other on the forest floor, her eyes still closed as she panted against him, it was as if the fog had lifted and everything was clear.

And at last, I see the light.

[kameyyy]

PASSION; atsumu miya x reader

CHAPTER 1: red

cw: ooc orobably, cursing, mention of a deceased grandparent, mention of dysfunctional family, lowkey unreliable memories, mention of alcohol use, umber is a color I don't mean amber, sry if I missed some [please refer to the general tags/warnings on the m.list !]

a/n: hi so I hope you'll enjoy !! this is my first ever written chapter in english and after like idk 4 years of writers block, so please be nice about it <3 I'm really excited to write this smau and I apologize for any grammar issues or typos !! I'm writing this at 6:30 am rn and I haven't slept yet lol so please bear with me

songs I violently played on repeat: Girl With One Eye ; Beatutiful Crime ; Claire ; Not

wc: 3.7k

She didn’t hear the front door of the shop creak open, nor the ring of the old bell attached to the ceiling sounding twice. He let his eyes roam suspiciously over the two steps of stairs in front of the door that led him further into the building, uneven and small, rough edges and splitting paint hidden behind a rug of yale blue that certainly has seen better years.

At first glance, the shop appeared messy. Countless rugs in various colors hung up on walls, spread out on the dark wood floor, or rolled up and stuffed together on shelves or any corners. The wallpaper was yellowed, partially wavy, and loose in places. Between the million rugs laid out underneath his feet, he spotted chipped parts of the wood floor and white dried-up paint smeared over it, seemingly by accident, as he moved over to the redwood counter and the person sitting behind it.

He wondered why his friend chose this specific shop for his rug. It was nothing like him, and not even close to the other stores he frequented. This one was cluttered, messy, and odd. The tips of the aloe vera on top of the counter were rolled tight and colored brown, balancing between life and death. Water and coffee stains adorned the counter top, dust settled in the corners and the jar with pens was tipped over. However, when his eyes landed on the stack of volleyball magazines spread messily next to the woman hunched over the counter, he suddenly understood his friend. He couldn’t make out her face since it was angled too far down, but instead, he clearly saw the video she was watching. A volleyball video. An interview of him. 

This place reeks of a discount.

She doesn’t like the color red. It reminds her of the past she is trying her best to forget, or it announced bad times coming for her. But as much as she learned to hate this color, somehow, she found herself surrounded by all kinds of shades of it every day.

Her childhood bedroom had wallpaper colored in carmine red. Walls that witnessed her silent sobs, her figure slouched over the prickly carpet writing a myriad of essays, all those fights with her mother, and countless nights where the bed stayed untouched and cold. She used to love this specific shade of red, though all it did now was leave a bitter taste in her mouth.

Her school uniform had a tie colored in maroon. The fabric accompanied her to all those classes, where she repeatedly realized just how different she was from everybody else. 

All her peers had their lives planned out already. They knew what to study, what job or company they wanted to work for, and at what age they wanted to get married. One child or two, the age difference no more than three years. A boy, or a boy and a girl. If they didn’t plan their life out this detailed, then they at least had an idea. Everybody had some sort of dream or goal to reach, unlike her. 

She was lost in a maze with no way out, the fog imprisoning her growing denser with every passing year or thought she spent on ways to escape.

The counter was made of redwood and the countless rugs scattered around the shop, either hung or rolled up, were all colored in some shade of red. They watched her fail the attempts of trying to forget the past whenever she lets her gaze wander out the window. Her eyes focused on the building across the street as if she was looking for someone. 

These rugs witnessed on cold fall days how she hung up a certain crimson red scarf on a coat rack behind the counter and sometimes stared at it a little too long, lost in thought. She got it as a gift a year before her high school graduation and never brought it over herself to toss it out of her life. It kept her warm on nights she turned her back to the locked front door of her house. Head hung low, sigh after sigh leaving chapped lips, a shiver from the biting cold of winter running through her body. Though moments later she was greeted happily in a certain house filled with warmth, laughter, and love. Umber eyes lifted unpleasant feelings and worries from her shoulders like a feather caught by a gush of wind. The scarf tagged along when she waited in front of the school gym, or when she laughed with the person that would later show her what passion truly felt like. Even when that passion was fueled by hate.

She was hunched over the countertop next to the cash register, her knuckles pressed against her temples as she kept her head low and eyes trained on the screen laid flat on the wood grain. 

She couldn’t help it.

The wired earphones she wore were broken in and tangled, the sound quality wasn't the best, but it was enough for her 10-minute walk to work. Or, to watch this interview with her eyebrows scrunched while the shop was only filled with her figure and a faint buzzing sound coming from the break room. It went unnoticed — just like the person actually standing in front of her.

She doesn’t know why she keeps watching these stupid volleyball interviews with him in it. She doesn’t know why she googles his name at least once a month, on the lookout for new achievements he made in his life, but not to celebrate. And she doesn’t know why she keeps buying these damn magazines he’s printed on the cover of — or is somehow featured in. 

She doesn’t know why she can’t let him go.

On her screen he stood proudly with a hand on his hip, the other running through his damp blonde hair while he answered the reporter's questions. His team won a match that was seemingly rather important. They talked a little too much about volleyball and teams she had never heard of before, though that was only because she always skipped the magazine pages that weren't about him, so she didn't really focus on what was said.

He carried himself with confidence, success was written all over his face. His hair wasn’t this awful yellow color anymore, it hadn’t been for a while, but rather a natural-looking blonde. He grew bigger, in muscles and size, compared to the last time she saw him in person years ago. He seemed more mature, though he was still the same and carried his signature smirk around, which she so desperately wished to wipe off his face. 

It’s unfair. Life’s unfair. It had only been good to him, for some stupid reason. He had a happy family, confidence and looks like no other, passions and goals he worked hard for to achieve and maintain. On the other hand, life had been treating her like a pacifier lost on the streets. It made her bitter. It filled her with hate. It made her cry at night — because she doesn’t understand why.

He got everything he dreamed of, while she didn’t even get a dream.

“What is your ideal type of woman?” The reporter spoke, and the blonde man paused for a second, raising a hand to his chin in thought, before a sly grin spread over his lips. She found herself biting on the skin of her cheek, a small part of her anticipating his answer a little more than she’d ever admit.

“My type in women?” He blew a lost strand of hair out of his vision, his eyes glimmering in amusement. “Someone who knows what they want in life.”

She scoffed loudly, roughly ripping her earphones out of the shell of her ears, and throwing them on top of the table. 

“What a dick.” She spat, venom rising to the back of her throat, daring to spill over like ink and red wine, staining her for years to come. She threw herself back in the creaking chair, nails roughly digging into the palm of her hand.

“Excuse me?” A voice sounded in offense.

Her eyes snapped up from the screen that still played the interview. In front of the counter, she was met with a broad figure in a burgundy red t-shirt and umber-colored irises. Her mouth went dry — and with it, her heart stopped beating for a second.

“What the fuck.”

Her sudden words of calling him a dick caught him off-guard. His eyebrows were furrowed, and he had his lips parted for more words to come out, offense painted across his face, though they died on his tongue the second she threw her head back to look at him.

A few moments of silence passed between them as they took in one another. 

It was her, to his delight. And it was him, to her misfortune.

He desperately tried to find his voice. He wanted to express all the feelings and questions swirling and burning inside his mind about her, after all those years, since they last saw each other. She pressed her jaw together tightly in an attempt to keep calm, the fight or flight instinct within her triggered. But she was working right now. Punching a customer would likely result in termination, as well as abandoning the shop.

He was the first one to break the silence again, a weak and nervous smirk painting his lips as he spoke.

“You’re a fan?” His eyes flickered to the interview still playing on the screen.

“Quite the opposite.” She scrunched her nose in disgust and quickly turned off the video.

Though, he simply raised his eyebrows, not buying a word she said, and instead nodded towards the stack of magazines next to her. She didn’t need to turn her head to know that the magazine lying on the top of the stack had his face printed all over the cover. She cursed herself silently, the only one without him displayed on the front page, currently stuck under the left leg of her chair to keep it from tilting over.

“We sell those.” She said flatly, trying to seem indifferent about it, but the nervous biting of her lip betrayed her.

The corner of his eyes crinkled in amusement, the smile on his lips grew wide before his features ultimately softened. Umber eyes roamed over her face, taking in everything that changed or had stayed the same. 

Her hairstyle was different, the bags she used to carry under her eyes weren’t as prominent anymore. But she still looked tired, her lips still chapped from her habit to gnaw at them whenever something bothered her. 

He wondered if her troubles were different now. He hoped they were. Otherwise, everything he had given up — which was her — was pointless. Nonetheless, she resembled the same girl from years ago, though he knew she was different now. She looked at him differently, too.

“I didn’t think we’d see each other again.” He muttered, memories of their time spent together played in front of his inner eye.

“I wish it would’ve stayed that way, Miya.”

His name tasted weird and unfamiliar on her tongue. The last time they saw each other — which was years ago — she referred to him by his given name, though not nearly as civilized as she managed now. Ways were parted in hate and anger, insult after insult spat from her mouth like venom as she screamed at him, in hopes of making him hurt as much as she did in that very moment.

He wronged her. He broke the trust he had so patiently built up and did the one thing she begged him not to do, sealed with multiple pinky promises and reassuring smiles. 

But suddenly her life fell apart. All because of him. 

She was left with nothing except this ignited spark of hate, and she never managed to loosen the claw-like grip it had on her throat.

“How have you been?” He cleared his throat awkwardly, dying to know about her life since he lost her. It was the same soft tone and expression he had used on her years ago. On days when she came to him after she had found the front door to her house locked and her hopes for a better life in shambles.

“Don’t act like you care.” She pressed through gritted teeth, her voice trembling from frustration.

She shot a glance behind him at the only functioning clock hanging on the wall, next to many others that were either off by many hours or just stopped working completely. Some were small, some were big, and a few were oddly shaped. Metal, plastic, wood. Brown, gold, red. It was 6:53 pm and her shift for today would end in exactly 2 hours and 7 minutes. 2 hours and 7 minutes too long, stuck in this shop, with a man she never wanted to meet again.

His shoulders fell slightly, and he took a step closer to the redwood counter, placing his calloused hands on the rough edge of chipped wood. The murmur of her name fell from his lips like a low melody. “C’mon, don’t be like that.”

“Don’t be like that?” She scoffed, disdain written all over her face as she jolted up from her chair, the palms of her hands slamming against the counter. “Are you fucking kidding me?”

He winced when her chair hit the floor, avoiding her gaze as he tightened his grip, looking down to her hands sprawled out on the wood grain. Chipped redwood dug uncomfortably against his palms, he squeezed his eyes shut tight for a moment, biting his cheek as if to force himself to make his next move. 

He gulped as he carefully lifted his gaze back to her, silence hanging thick in the air between them. 

Years ago, on a day that began like every other, he messed up and lost her completely. Today was similar, though this time he won’t let her stray far from him again. Their friendship meant a lot to him, even if he never openly admitted it, and he wanted to win her back. Make up for past mistakes and fix things, see her laugh at his stupid jokes or hear her cheer loudly for him during a volleyball match again. 

He missed their late night talks in the quiet of his living room, arms softly brushing against each other and acting as if both didn’t notice their knees touching underneath the thin blanket. Hushed voices conversing from the floor and bottom bunk bed in his childhood bedroom, trying not to disturb his brother who always fell asleep first, and giggles muffled by their hands when his mother returned from a shift way past their bedtime, rushing up the stairs with adrenaline pumping through their veins. 

He was uncharacteristically soft with her, doing small things his brother teased him about, like holding her hand under the pretense that she was walking too slow, or so she wouldn't get lost. Physical contact like this normally made her uncomfortable, but for him, she made an exception.

A wary look was painted on his features and his warm, calloused hand slowly cupped over her own, his thumb softly brushing over her knuckles in a calming manner, voice just as gentle. “Look, I’m sorry for what I’ve done-”

“No, you’re fucking not!” She cut him off with a snarl, swatting his hand away like a nasty fly. “You’re only sorry because your stupid attempt to ‘save me’ failed!”

He opened his mouth to object, his hand pulled close again as if he had burnt himself, though his words died on his tongue and he pressed his lips together tightly, running a hand through blonde hair. 

Never before had she seen him this close to looking remorseful, though, she knew it was just faux feelings. If he hadn’t met her today, after roughly four years, he wouldn’t have spared a single thought on her. She was just a side character in his story, after all.

Atsumu Miya was the type of guy who spoke a lot and couldn’t ever shut up. Even when the situation called for it. 

She only slept 4 hours? Well, he only slept three and has a stomach ache. 

She tries to talk about her life at home? Too bad, suddenly he’s reciting every moment of his life, starting from when he was just a cell in his mother's womb. 

Something was always on his mind. Anything he deemed worth expressing he spoke out loud, and often it was unnecessary, stupid, or left her questioning his common sense. When he didn’t talk over her or made every conversation about himself, he was too busy training and bickering with his brother. 

Emotional, soft, and heart-to-heart conversations were impossible with him. This includes when she first opened up about her situation at home. Her voice was quiet, her hands trembled, and she made him promise a million times not to tell anyone else. 

Opening up to someone filled her with anxiety. Somehow, she even feared his reaction. Would he be indifferent? Dismiss her completely, or tell her to suck it up? Would he get angry at her? Would he tell her mother? Or his brother and mother?

These are things she never had to worry about whenever she emailed her deceased grandmother, emails in which she thoroughly spoke about the things that had happened to her, dumping her thoughts and feelings. She had tried diaries before, but the fear of her mother discovering them or someone else led to her lying about the things she wrote about. But that destroys the purpose she bought the book for, no?

So she stopped, and poured out her heart's content in emails instead that no one had access to anymore. Even though she will never receive an answer, sending those made her feel as if she really talked to someone. Something a piece of paper or the notes app on her phone couldn’t ever do for her. Unlike when she opened up to Atsumu, she felt heard and listened to.

He kept pacing around the room, muttering curse after curse through gritted teeth. She didn’t know if they were directed at her mother, her, or himself. He was ticked off and frustrated about the fact that this had been going on for years at her home, without him knowing anything about it, though they only recently started growing closer. So when could she have told him about it? Not only that, but she used to hate him too. 

Many people her age actually preferred being friends with Osamu, rather than him. They were alike, but the grey-haired brother was rather laid back and kind of calm, more bearable to have a conversation with. But the blonde kept pestering her, walking her to class, eating lunch together and joining her on the swings by the playground at late hours. She eventually came to the realisation that he was only half as bad as originally thought, and that she actually kind of liked him. 

Yet moments like these, where she opened up and made herself vulnerable in front of him, caused her to second guess her choice of friend. There were no hands holding hers, and no softly spoken call of her name to sooth her spiraling thoughts. Nor did they ever truly talk about the things she so slowly and carefully put together in words. He couldn’t comfort her the way she needed, and to a certain degree it seemed like he never truly cared, always swiftly moving to a different topic.

“I was doing okay, I was content. But you made my life sound so much worse than it actually was.” she said, her tone tight, edged with frustration and a hint of wounded disbelief. “I had you and your support, no one else needed to know what was really going on, there was only one year of school left anyway.”

Somehow, she noticed, their roles were reversed now. He grew up and learned to manage and express his emotions better. He was successful in his job and his passion. Everything she prayed to god to was ignored and fell into his lap instead. 

It filled her with hate and bitter jealousy.

They both came from somewhat similar backgrounds. A deadbeat father, a single mother, and issues with making friends. She was an only child, he was a twin. She expected his mother to be exhausted, overwhelmed, and stressed, unable to control her emotions or lash out at them sometimes. It’s what her mother was like already, though she only had to feed one extra mouthful, and not two. Instead, she was met with nothing but love and support in the four walls of his home. Something incredibly foreign to her. 

Now, she directed her frustration and anger at people close to her who deserved it the least. Her emotional control kept slacking off with every passing day. She’s been fired from previous jobs often, goes out drinking instead of attending her classes, and her relationship turned from something that gave her joy and a will to push through, to this never-leaving sense of guilt and exhaustion. 

“I had plans, Atsumu. I knew how to get out, I knew how to help myself. But you robbed me of every opportunity and broke your stupid fucking promise.”

Everything he had dreamed of was just one breath away, while she’d been drowning for years.

They’re two sides of a coin. 

He woke up early with a smile, feeling refreshed and energized. She hadn’t moved an inch the moment she opened her eyes, even though she’d been meaning to get up for the past hour.

He kept in touch with his mother and called her every Sunday. She hadn't heard a word from hers since she moved to Osaka.

He doesn't know who his father is and doesn’t plan on knowing. She was forced to find out about hers.

He was a role model for many children. She never understood the concept.

The blonde stepped back from the redwood counter, hands buried in his pants as he shook his head slowly. “You would have lost yourself.” 

“And I’m not lost right now?”

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[starlightsreigns]

sorry | a lemonade story

summary ⇢ mellie wants to pretend like she doesn't care anymore, but life has another curveball to send her way and it might put her on her ass for good. word count ⇢ 2.1k tag ⇢ minors, do not interact. explicit language. tw: loss and emotional distress | four ; apathy “I don’t give a fuck, chucking my deuces up”

He trying to roll me up, I ain't picking up (I ain't sorry)

Evening sunlight streams through the house. On the couch, I stare lazily at the TV screen, not sure what I’m watching, but I need the distraction. If I sit in silence, all the thoughts come rushing back to me and it makes me sick. Actually, everything makes me sick nowadays. It just feels neverending. 

For the past two weeks, I’ve holed myself in the house while being sick and exhausted. 

Roman hasn’t gone a day without sending me an apologetic text or sending random gifts through delivery. All I want is to be left alone without the thought of him. Yet, locking myself in a house that is a museum of the past love and current pain doesn’t seem to be working. 

I look down at my phone, at a new text message he’s sent and sigh. 

   Roman: I miss you every day, Mellie, can I please just see you once? 

Before I can respond, my stomach swirls in pain. I cover my mouth to hold in the vomit that’s coming up so I can run to the bathroom. My knees hit the ground and I let out the contents of my stomach. I sit there for a while and hold my warm forehead. 

The stress of all of this is getting to me and I’m not sure how I can move forward. After a moment, I flush the toilet and slowly stand up. My reflection in the mirror makes me glance away. That person in the mirror is unrecognizable to me. She’s a shell of the person I once knew and love. 

suck on my balls, pause, i’ve had enough

Leaving the house is reserved for groceries and getting mail. After eating everything available, I had to go to the grocery store. I want to stay as hidden as possible in my all-black outfit. The quicker I can shop, the quicker I can get back home.

As I stand in the checkout line, I make a mental note to suck it up and start ordering my groceries to be delivered for the time being. Being outside and seeing happy faces is killing me on the inside. 

I push my cart out to my car, practically throw the bags into the truck, and then turn to return the cart. While I shuffle back, my eyes fall on a familiar face. She’s across the lot, closing a car door. J. I don’t know her name, but her face is painted in my head. 

My feet start towards her before my brain can stop and think. I don’t know what I’m going to say, but something needs to come from this. 

“Excuse me,” I call out. “Do you know me?” 

She eyes me for a moment then gulps, “Excuse me?” 

My eyes bore into hers, “I said, do you know who the fuck I am?” 

“Yeah, I know who you are.” She says softly. 

“What’s your name?” 

Putting a name to the face won’t make this better, but I can’t help it. I need to understand why this is happening to me. 

“Jackie,” She rolls her shoulders back. “Listen—”

“No, you knew he was married and you still slept with him?” 

Jackie looks away. I move over to meet her eyes again. 

“I could slap the shit outta you, you’re a horrible fucking person.” I spit at her. “I hope you get your karma, 'cause I would never wish for you to find the love of your life and he cheats on you with a piece of shit, insecure ass woman.” 

“Listen, I didn’t mean for any of this—”

Before she can finish her sentence, my hand connects with her cheek. I step back in shock and then shake my head. 

“Fuck both of you, don’t talk down to me. You knew what the fuck you were doing, you’re the worst kind of woman.” 

Jackie doesn’t say anything else. After a second, I turn and walk back to my car. Fighting her does nothing for me, but I can say that some of me feel 1% better. 

I don't give a fuck, chucking my deuces up

“Mellie, sweetie, this isn’t healthy anymore.” Alyssa sits beside me. 

After showing up announced, Alyssa practically pushed herself into the house. Her worry for me and my headspace finally made her disregard my constant messages saying that I was okay. She had to come to see for herself, and of course, I’ve been lying to her about how I’ve been coping with everything. 

“It’s crazy, because I’m at this spot where I can go on with my day-to-day, but I’m scared that if I leave this house I’ll see him.”

Alyssa hums, “Fuck it, let him see you and it’ll remind him that he lost the greatest fucking bitch on planet Earth.” She smiles. 

That makes me crack the first smile I’ve had in a long time. 

There’s another reason I’ve avoided Alyssa. Yes, I don’t want her to see my disheveled state, but I don’t want to admit to myself the one thing that I know deep down in my heart: I’m pregnant. 

I’ve known for a month now, but saying it aloud with my marriage being destroyed just doesn’t feel right. I can’t celebrate this when I feel a void inside. And, I know if I tell Alyssa then I’ll have to tell Roman, and that’s the last thing I want to do right now – I feel like I’d cave and forgive him for the sake of this baby and that won’t make any of the pain I feel better. 

“I love you, Aly, and I appreciate it, but I just need more time to sit in this and actually feel it.”

Alyssa searches my eyes for a moment then lets out a breath, “Okay, but I will come check on you before work in the morning from now on.” 

A smile forms on my face again, “I’ll have your breakfast ready. 

With a laugh, Alyssa nudges my shoulder. 

Guilt fills me at the fact that I haven’t told my best friend the news. I have to tell her, but I can’t anticipate her reaction. 

He only want me when I'm not there, he better call Becky with the good hair

Falling asleep on the couch has become the norm for me. Sleeping in the bed I shared with Roman isn’t something I’ve willed myself to do yet. The bed still smells like him, no matter how many times I wash the sheets. The entire house smells just like him.

The doorbell wakes me. I look around at the darkness in the house and stumble up. My eyes finally adjust in the darkness and I make my to the door. Through the peephole, I can see Roman pacing. 

“What do you want, Roman?” I sigh when I open the door. “It’s late.” 

Roman stuffs his hands into his pockets, “I just want to see you, Mel, I’m sorry.” 

My eyes shift away, “Roman, just go be with that girl and let me live.” 

“I don’t wanna be with her, Mellie, I love you and I wanna fix this.” 

It’s as if my words aren’t registering with him. 

“I need you to understand me, Roman, coming here and bothering me doesn’t make me want to talk this through with you.” My breathing slows to keep me calm. “If anything, it might make me hate you more. So please, just let me be.”

Roman looks down at the ground. A moment of weakness overtakes me. 

“I still love you, unfortunately, I can’t just get rid of those feelings, but I need you to go.” 

When he meets my eyes, Roman nods slowly and turns to leave. He looks over his shoulder one last time and says: 

“I love you, Melody.” 

He disappears in the darkness. I stare out a little longer then shut the door. Seeing him feels like it set me back. It puts me right back at the beginning of all the hurt. I wish I could skip and get to the point where it feels like nothing. By all means, I have to stay away from him to gain my sanity. 

Me and my baby, we gon’ be alright

Bacon sizzles in the frying pan as I stare ahead mindlessly. For the past few weeks, Alyssa and I started a routine — every morning, she comes over for breakfast where she can check on me then after work, she comes over for dinner and a movie. There hasn’t been a single day in three weeks where we’ve deviated. 

“Honey, I’m home,” Alyssa calls out from the front door. 

“In the kitchen, Aly.”

Alyssa sets her stuff on the kitchen table and comes to hug me. She shoos me away from the stove and moves the bacon over to the plates that had the rest of our breakfast. 

“How you feelin’, Mells?” 

I snort softly as I sit down, “I’ve had better years, of course, but–” 

My words stop at a pain. Alyssa looks at me worried. I stand up, lean against the table, and take a deep breath. My grip tightens on the edge of the table at the cramps and I can hear a gasp pass Alyssa’s mouth. 

“Melody, you’re bleeding.” Alyssa comes up beside me.

Realization floods my body, I stand up straight and try to keep my emotions at bay, but of course, my life had to get worse after everything that has happened. Alyssa watches me closely and places a hand on my shoulder. 

“I’m having…” I take a deep breath and meet Alyssa’s eyes. “I think I’m having a miscarriage.” 

Alyssa’s mouth hangs open in shock, “Oh my God, Mells, c’mon we need to go to the hospital.” 

Suicide before you see this tear fall down my eyes

I’m not sure what else life can take from me. 

My blood pressure made the doctors keep me overnight. In the silence of the hospital room, I’ve had the chance to think about everything that’s led me here. I want to blame Roman for all of this, for this additional pain that I’m experiencing, but the only thing on my heart is wanting him here so he can hold me. 

But, I had to beg Alyssa to keep this a secret from him and my parents. I need to deal with this without him and I need more time before I talk to my parents.

The door to my room opens slowly and Alyssa peeks her head in. 

“Hey Mells, please don’t be mad at me.” Her soft voice makes me sit up slowly. “Someone needs to be here with you.” 

The door opens more and when I see Naomi, I can’t help but cry into my hands. She immediately runs over and wraps her arms around me. Naomi pulls me into her chest and holds me tightly as the sobs I’ve hidden all day break like a dam. 

“It’s okay, Mellie, let it out.” She soothes. “I’ve got you, girl.”

For what feels like an hour, we stay like that. Naomi doesn’t push me to say anything, even when I finally stop crying and she takes a seat on the recliner next to the bed. All she does is hold onto my hand. 

“Thank you for coming, Aly has work.” 

Naomi shakes her head, “I’m always here for you, Mellie, why didn’t you call me?” 

“It’s embarrassing, that’s why, how can I admit any of this to anyone?” I sigh. “He’s the twins’ cousin and I just… I just didn’t want to admit that I failed.”

She squeezes my hand tightly, “First of all, you haven’t failed at anything. Mel, he failed you, and I don’t care if he was my brother, I’ll always stick up for you.” 

I left a note in the hallway, by the time you read it, I'll be far away

Staying in this house will only cause more pain. 

To find a way out of this pain, I need to leave. 

  Melody: Roman, can you come over here? 

It’s not what anyone would think. I can’t live here anymore, so Roman doesn’t have to live in a hotel. This will always be our home, no matter how I feel right now, and I wish I could stomach it.

At the kitchen table, I write on a piece of paper. My eyes glance at my suitcases by the door. 

“roman, i don’t know if there will be redemption, but i need space and being here doesn’t give me the space that i need. this house is filled with you and memories i can’t deal with right now. you don’t have to stay at the hotel anymore. i’m safe and i’ll be with my parents. x melody”

The only thing I can do from here is heal and I don’t know how long that will take.

“So what are you gonna say at my funeral now that you’ve killed me?

Here lies the body of the love of my life, whose heart I broke without a gun to my head.

Here lies the mother of my children, both living and dead.

Rest in peace, my true love, who I took for granted, most bomb pussy, who because of me, sleep evaded. Her shroud is loneliness.

Her heaven would be a love without betrayal.”

Hope you all enjoyed this part! (def not my favorite)

'Daddy Lessons' is next and im so excited, it's my top two on the whole album! see you then x