#| well this took a thousand years and i hurt but here we are

[cherry-leclerc]

lolita ☆ cs55

genre: age gap (10 years), porn with plot, affairs, forbidden romance, angst, mentions of suicide, mentions of drugs, tragedy, erotic literature

word count: 14.9k

You were young, alluring, floating through a disastrous life with the touch of a thousand angels. Carlos was successful, irresistible and someone who often kept a distance from catastrophe. Never in a million years did he think he would have a complete moment of weakness. Especially the week of his wedding. 

nsfw warning under the cut!

18+... sexual tension, penetrative sex, dry humping, riding, size kink, oral sex (f and m receiving), semi - public sex, deepthroating, praise, fingering, handjobs, lots of dirty foreplay, slapping (like once AH), a bit of edging, overstimulation, a bit of crying, sucking on fingers, squirting - i should stop now, oh god.  

inspired by this and this !

STOP AND READ:

This by no means - in any shape or form - is something that should be admired or looked up to. It does deal with serious topics such as: grooming, suicide, and drugs. While the reader is of age (19), this is not my way of impulsing my own readers - especially younger ones, if by any chance they come across this - to follow this mindset. Dark themes will take place and if that is not something you are comfortable with, then that is okay, I definitely have more light hearted fics in my masterlist. “Love stories” aren’t always filled with flowers and rainbows, they can also be hurtful and confusing, often misunderstood. This is fictional. Given, this is inspired by Lolita and Blue Velvet by Lana Del Rey (*everyone cheers*) – what that means is that this story will not have a happy ending. Verses of Lolita by Vladimir Nabokov are also mentioned (extremely controversial book - as it should be).

cherry here!…hi, guys! i hope you all enjoy and i’m gonna do it now: I’M SORRY. 

She was as dangerous as poison could ever be - with no good intentions. She was malicious, sweet laughter that would make anyone fall in love. An Angel walking on Earth, curiously making it her playground. 

He was intelligent. A man of few words, but also simply so, the seven deadly sins all wrapped up in one. Keeping a distance from things he knew would bring him no good.

But in order to understand, we would have to take you back to where it all began. 

Where Paradise met Hell.

-

Growing up in Italy for some odd reason made you out to be the girl you were. Men there would throw themselves at any opportunity if they saw a single daisy looking girl in eyesight. At first it felt as if you were walking a tightrope; you knew it wouldn’t be the wisest idea to fall straight into their traps. Except, slowly, it made sense.

They knew how to sweet talk someone so young and naive - you’ll give them that. It only took one taste and that was the moment you knew. 

You liked them older.

Men fucked in a way boys never would. Every single one would always put your needs first - but there was this one man that had you realizing how fucked up you could be in order to get what you want. That’s one prize you’d cheat to win.

And that’s a story for later.

-

Moving away for college was the best decision you felt you would ever make in your entire life. Given, Italy was home, but the people in it weren’t. Often, you find yourself missing your rendezvous but studying abroad in Spain wasn’t much different.

Note; you didn’t grow up with a tight knit family. Your mother was a drug addict with half of her days knocked out on the couch, your father was someone who was occasionally in the picture. He tried his best.

And your older sister, Ollie? 

Well, you’d honestly forgotten you even had one. 

Some may say that you’re a whore, a slut, a homewrecker, or any other Spanish slur that spits Madrid, but you never cared. You were having fun and why were you the one always being blamed? Perhaps, men, too, should think with their heads rather than their dicks.

Which is how you find yourself still repeating the familiar pattern you had started a long time ago. Riding your professor shouldn’t feel this good. Mierda, he would groan as you bounce up and down like a bunny. Mewling, you shake the feeling of remorse. Not when he felt this good. 

Your phone ringing is what makes you stop, him still inside of you, twitching. Ciao? His calloused fingers would slide up to pinch your nipples as you lightly gasped. 

“Tesoro! Haven’t heard your voice in so long.”

Your father’s tone makes you wince at the reminder. Occasionally, he would check up on you in a way you would assume other fathers did for their daughters. You could never hate him, though. In his own way, deep down, he still cared.

“Papi, how are you?”

Sliding off of his lap, you zip your dress back on as you pace the lecture room. Bored, he takes out his secret whiskey from under his desk. Your sister is getting married in a few weeks! I was thinking you could fly back home so you could join us. The thought alone made your stomach churn as you bit down onto your thumb. Signaling at the older man, you click your fingers, hinting for a glass of your own. He obliges, handing it to you.

“I’m busy with summer courses. Maybe I can send a gift?”

You try everything in the book in order to get out of what seems like a crappy, dull, Italian wedding. It had been ages since you last stepped foot there. In no right mind would Ollie’s wedding be the one to change that. But he says things that get to you. I haven’t seen you in years. Neither has your sister. She misses you, you know?

You bite down on a snarky remark as you down the rest of the gold liquid. Last time you spoke, she promised that you were dead to her. That she never wanted to hear from you again. In the moment, it hurt, but you grew used to the idea. And what younger sister doesn’t pick up on what older sister says? Now, you despised her as much as she did you.

“Ovviamente. I’ll be there.”

-

It’s hot as soon as you land. That you didn’t miss. Ale, your fathers chauffeur, picks you up with a bright smile. Saddened, it dawns on you that you hadn’t seen one of those in ages. He’s nice. Let's you sit in the passenger's seat as he introduces himself. He mentions he has 5 granddaughters and has been married for almost 50 years. It’s sweet. Makes you feel human.

Pulling into the driveway, you almost want to correct him. This isn’t my fathers house. You must be mistaken. Only, he says he isn’t. That he had recently moved into his Italian mansion a year ago. You’re skeptical for a minute, but realize you can’t be one to tell. Years have passed; things change.

Still, that didn’t stop you from gawking at the ginormous house that sits on a hill; overlooking all of Tuscany. It even had a beautiful view of the ocean. Why couldn’t you grow up with this?

“I’ll inform your father that you have arrived safely.”

Taking it all in, you slowly pace the entrance, analyzing everything in sight. The crystals hanging from the chandelier, large - expensive - portraits, shiny mirrors. Quirking your head to the side, you glide over to the golden trophy sitting in the middle of the spacious entry.

Carlos Sainz Sr. : Rally Driver of-

“That belonged to my father. He passed away a year ago.”

Startled, you grip onto the trophy tighter as you slightly jump in panic. You curse yourself for being caught as you delicately place it back down before turning your attention to the booming voice.

Instantly, you’re hit with lust. Standing in front of you is a tall man - around his 20’s, perhaps - dark brown eyes narrowed down on you like knives. Messy, untamed, brown hair. Large nose, plump lips, dark brows. His figure is something you can’t wrap your head around that even exists. Richard Mille's watch clung onto his wrist. Giorgio Armani pressed up against his chest, it almost looked as if it didn’t fit due to his rippling muscles. Woody, rich, scent filling up the room. 

He was the most beautiful man you had ever laid eyes on. 

“I am so, so, sorry.”

Your voice is so soft, it has him intrigued. You wore a short pastel yellow dress that didn’t leave much to his imagination; paired with converse and tube socks. Rosy tint on your cheekbones from the humidity. Berry lips. Wide, innocent eyes. He’d be lying if he said you didn’t take his own breath away. Even though you stood far enough away, he could still smell your vanilla perfume. 

Inching closer, he waves you off. “I was kidding. My father is well and alive.” You tippy toe nervously before planting your feet back down. 

“That’s not a nice thing to say.”

And he’s surprised with your response. Yet, he finds himself extending his tan hand out to you. “I’m Carlos.”

Carlos. His name sounds as attractive as his appearance. Strong and sure. But also…dark. You shake his hand, legs quivering at his warm touch. Deep down, he knew how much he affected you - it’s something he’s grown quite accustomed to, having people admire his looks, but it took a lot to not show that you had the same effect on him.

“Nice to meet you, Carlos. Do you work for my father?”

Amused, he lets out a deep chuckle. Even a simple sound like that had you pressing your legs together, arousal dripping in between. 

“You don’t know who I am?” You shake your head, confused. Should you? He smiles. “That’s okay. We haven’t met before…Though you should get to know me since you’re already here…”

Wait.

“You know,” he leans his head a bit, floppy hair following, “Ollie.”

No, no, no.

“It’s so nice to finally meet my fiancée’s sister.”

Foolishly, you try your best to hide your surprise. How does a man like him end up with a bratty, narcissist, like your sister?

What was so fucking special about her?

Envy fills your veins as you try to show that this hasn’t phased you. Excited cheers echo down the hallway as your father runs over, embracing you into a warm hug. You’re here! Wincing, you lean into his touch, eyes still trained on the magnetic man. 

Only then, did Ollie fly down the stairs, immediately running into Carlos’ arms. Making a big deal out of it, she kisses him as she runs her hands against his chest. 

“Come here, tesoro. I’ll show you where you’ll be staying.”

The entire time; Carlos kept his eyes trained on you. 

-

It didn’t make sense. Part of you knows it never will. You’ve only just met him, but you can tell he must’ve been fucked in the head to willingly choose someone like Ollie. Sure, she seemed sweet and kind, but she was anything but that. 

Dinner that night is carbonara. Carlos is extremely talented. He cooked this just for you. Tight lipped, you thank him, looking down at your plate to avoid his burning gaze. 

“How’s school?”

Turning to your father, you remind yourself that you were here for him; because he wanted you there. That’s all that should matter. “Very good. Thank you for asking, papi.”

The sound of glass hitting the table erupts as Carlos hurriedly goes to pick it up, quickly murmuring a strong apology. His dark gaze shortly flickers past you. It leaves you squirming. 

Clearing his throat, he takes a sip of his wine. “Where do you study?” Spain, you tell him as he beams. “No way. I was born and raised in Madrid. Moved to Italy a few years ago for work.” Letting out a laugh, you find the coincidence funny. He moved from Spain to Italy and you moved from Italy to Spain. 

“What do you do for work?”

“He’s a Formula 1 driver. Drives for Scuderia Ferrari,” Ollie weasels in as she smirks down on you. Anger bubbles inside of her when your attention remains on the Spaniard. Drumming your fingers against the table, you lick your lips. Formula 1? He’s about to explain it all up until Ollie butts in once again. She rubs his hand, a glistening ring shining right in front of you. You physically have to force yourself to look away. “Oh, amor, she doesn’t know what that is. She’s too…young.” 

You know she’s trying to make a weak point: you’re only a baby, therefore, you don’t compare to her. And yes, you are young, 19, but it was stupid of her to think that it bothered you. You tsk before leaning back against your chair. 

“Of course, my mistake. I forgot I was still a pure flower instead of a wilting one.”

Ollie’s face switches to bright red as she grips onto his hand. An entertained smile slips onto his lips before flattening back out. He rubs her hand, trying to calm her down. You can’t stop the jealousy burning from within.

“I didn’t mean you, Mr. Sainz.”

The 29 year old brushed you as if nothing, a smile displayed. Eyeing you both, Ollie suddenly stands up, chair screeching. Why don’t you help me bring out the cookies I baked? Ever so gracefully, you nod. Following after her, you stop suddenly as she spins, hair slapping her face. “What the fuck do you think you’re doing here? Are you here to ruin my life with your existence?”

“I might.”

Her left eye twitches as she growls angrily. If she didn’t make it this easy to tick her off, then you’d be bored, but luckily for you, it was unchallenging to get under her skin. “This is my wedding; my future husband - so don’t fuck that up like everything else you’ve ever done.”

You try to pretend as if her words didn’t affect you as you stare back blankly. Marching over to the counter, she opens up a box of cookies before sliding them onto a polished dish, leaving you standing there alone.

-

You thank the higher Gods for not letting you cross roads with Ollie for the next few days. Though, you’re a bit bummed out that you haven’t seen Carlos much either. Peeking out the window, you could see the way a group of workers hurried to set up for the joint bachelorette taking place later that night, right on the beach. The waves look magnificent, so without a second thought, you slip on a bikini before rushing out the door with your necessities. 

Lathering a goop of coconut sunscreen, you hum softly to yourself. Weren’t you going out with your sister? Looking up, you see Carlos standing in front of you with his face slightly scrunched up from the bright sun. His cheeks looked as if they’d just been pinched. “Where to?”

He takes a seat next to you. “She said she was going out to go buy a few flowers for later. Said she would invite you.” You shake your head, already bored with the idea.

“You know her,” you tap your head, “Forgetful.”

He cocks his head to the side as he shuts his right eye for a moment. “You two don’t get along, do you?” You try making up a silly excuse. Of course we do. We’re sisters. But he’s looking right into your orbs as if he sees right past your weak attempts. “You’re right. I could be wrong.”

It stays quiet for a while - only the soft breeze being heard. You can see him from your peripheral vision; eyes shut as he takes in the moment of peace he hasn’t had since dawn. Long lashes fan his face, freckles scattered all over. 

“Aren’t you too busy to be talking to me?”

“No. Plus, I should take time to get to know my future sister-in-law. Especially since I don't know anything about her even after dating her sister for 7 years.”

7 years.

Squinting at the waves, you slide your sunglasses on. “There’s not much to know, but I can try. I’m 19 years old, studying abroad in Spain, and grew up in Italy. I love the ocean, love a nice cup of hot chocolate - even though I’m allergic - so I only allow myself small sips during the winter. I like to pretend I know how to dance and I kill it in karaoke.” He laughs. You can’t dance? “Unfortunately, I can’t. Once, during my friend's wedding reception, I twirled right into her cake. I spent the entire day on supervision.”

“Dios mío…Remind me to watch out for you on our wedding day.”

Our wedding day. His words slightly sting as you pinch your nose swiftly. Standing up, you brush beads of sand off your legs. Your eyes roam the area before you find your father waving you over. “I should go,” you say as you look down at him. His brown eyes scan you before nodding and standing up. He, too, looks over to where your father waits to introduce you to a group of businessmen. He frowns and that's when you realize just how revealing your bikini might have been, only it's too late now.

“Papi always taught us to greet our elders.”

He clenches his jaw, eyes closing for a second. When his gaze meets yours, you almost choke with how dark and twisted it’s become. “Aren’t you too old to be calling him that?” Confused, you tilt your head.

“Calling him wh- Papi?”

He grinds his teeth together - and then just like that - he’s smiling again. 

“Forget it. How would I know?”

-

Standing next to an empty table, you watch as Carlos and your sister dance along with everyone else. This party has allowed you to pick up on the fact that they seemed to be a much more important couple than you had anticipated. Everyone looked at the Spaniard as if he were a God himself - and being quite truthful - you would agree. There was nothing about him that wasn’t flawless. 

Then, Ollie, just looked like any other person. Her eyes were bright, but any time anyone would walk up to him, her stare would become threatening. As if she was his owner and no one else could get close enough to breathe the same air.

Everyone here was older; that much you could tell. Attendees were accompanied by girlfriends or fiancée’s of their own. It made you feel a bit childish, since you clearly were the youngest one there. Reaching out for your margarita, you twirl the straw.

“Not having fun?”

Your attention directs itself to a dirty, blondish, brunette. He looks a bit tipsy, face flushed as he smiles sweetly. He’s tall, handsome. But not as much as Carlos.

“Max,” he introduces himself. Politely, you shake his hand. He points to the large group that dances on the sand. He lets out a croaky laugh. “They could get a bit much sometimes.” You laugh, nodding along with him. He continues talking to you. Brings up how he knows Carlos from driving with him; except he’s signed to Red Bull.

“Everyone here is invited only if they're a driver, huh?” It’s a lame joke, but he laughs and throws his head back as if it were the most fascinating thing he’s heard all night. 

“It’s a small circle, but I promise, they're all nice lads.” Discreetly, he takes in your appearance. The way your black dress dances with the wind. Painted red nails glistening under the golden lights. 

You were beautiful. Tragically, beautiful.

“You know the groom or the bride?”

“Bride.”

He nods, taking a sip of the beer bottle he had been nursing. You both continue your conversation for a while longer. He’s Dutch. Recently 26. You mention your headache before he brushes his fingers against your hand. Looking down, he pulls away before clearing his throat. He apologizes and asks if you would like to dance. A soft melody now plays and you find yourself taking his hand. It's big as yours disappears into it.

Almost as if he’s shy, he carefully slides his hands down to your waist. You giggle as you throw yours over his shoulders. “I hope slowing down helps get rid of your migraine. Sucks. I get lots of those during race weekends.” 

“It is. Thank you for caring.”

He’s sweet. You can tell with the way he blushes when you mention the way you like his dimples. Slowly, you find yourself enjoying his company. You’re in the middle of laughing at some stupid joke he just told, when someone rudely clears their throat. Carlos’ smile appears bitter as he shakes his head.

“I’m sorry - I’ve probably killed the mood.”

“No problem, mate. We were just talking.”

He clicks his tongue before turning to you. Under his scrutiny, you feel as if you’ve just been caught smoking weed for the first time. Dazed, you hum, waiting for him to say something. You know it’s not your place to feel as if he owes you an apology, but you can’t help it. 

“Ollie said it’s best if you went to bed.” You let out a sarcastic laugh. Since when does she care if I get a good night's rest? He huffs before running a hand through his hair. “She - she…Just do as you’re told, please.”

Now you’re bothered. Up until that point, you were actually having a good time. Dumbfounded, you turn to Max as he smiles understandingly. Pursing your lips, you apologize. Tippy toeing, you lean up to press a kiss against his stubble. He smiles.

“See you around?”

“See you around, Maxie.”

Walking into the lonely house, you let out a sigh as you pour yourself a cup of water. The summer heat had completely dehydrated you. You could still hear the soft beat playing from outside as you sway in the kitchen. You were upset - angry - that your sister had cut your night short. And any other time you would have put up a good fight, but thought it’d be best to not make a fool out of yourself. Especially in front of people you barely knew.

The door sliding open has you alert as you look up. Carlos silently makes his way in as he groans with exhaustion. Loopy eyes match yours as he clears his throat awkwardly. “So��What were you talking about with Max?”

“Nothing that should concern you.”

His jaw clenches, a large hand running along it. Stepping closer, he takes your cup of water before chugging it down. It leaves you hot and bothered just how close he is. It’s a mixture of salt and musk, his scent. It makes your head spin. Lazily, he takes a step back before nodding.

“Right. Have a good night.”

-

Carlos knew he had messed up. He had no right lying and saying Ollie had ordered for you to go to bed. That was completely him. It’s just that - seeing you with Max, laughing, smiling, made him seethe - when he knows damn well that he shouldn’t. It wasn’t like he was your boyfriend, after all. 

So, he was embarrassed. He kept his distance. In his head it made sense. If you weren’t near then he wouldn’t feel the need to keep his eyes on you all the time. The house felt lonelier, colder without you sliding down the hallways. Rightfully so, you had spent your days locked up in your room. The only person that made happy was Ollie.

Either way, maybe it was for the best. He had a ton of shit to do. Starting with changing their honeymoon destination for what seemed like the millionth time that month. First, it was the Maldives, then Cancún - God - he knew that in a few hours his fiancée would come up with a new place. 

“I know, I know we said that, but it’s changed.” He paces the office, stressed. “Can you please just make it fucking happen?”

“Ouch.”

Turning his attention, he sees you peeking at the entrance, phone still pressed up against his ear. Pouting, you enter, sweet aroma filling the room. Excusing himself, he ends the call. “Need anything?” He honestly cared for your response. It had been days without seeing you and he was afraid he blew it before he even had a chance to marry your sister. He told himself it was only because he cared for your relationship with Ollie. But fuck that - he knew not even you both cared that much about each other.

Shaking your head, you walk closer. “You sounded mean. Not a nice look on you, Mr. Sainz.” You’re teasing. You had to be. 

“That wasn’t mean. It's called being straight forward.”

Ignoring him, you curiously eye the dark office. Books, trophies, helmets. Letting out a snort, you pick up the nearest picture frame. In it, it’s Carlos and Ollie, smiling wide. Tears brim her eyes as he looks down at her. The sight makes you want to puke. 

“When was this taken?”

“The day of our engagement.”

You hum, already setting it back down. You can’t help but picture the impossible. That in the picture it was you instead of her, that you wore that diamond ring, that he looked at you. 

Fuck her, honestly. 

“Why’d you propose?”

He’s thrown off by your question. He’s expecting you to bring up the fact that it was a joke, but when you looked back for a response, he found himself with a dry mouth. Because I love her?

“Jesus,” you shudder, taking a seat on top of his desk. His eyes wander down your tan legs as you rest them on top of his chair. You're playing mind games - he’s well aware -  and still he found himself following them. You were the worst temptation out there. It’s as if you knew the power you held. “I bet fucking her is a chore.”

Shocked at your words, he finds himself dumbstruck. He knew you two didn’t get along, but what the fuck happened for you to aim such insults? 

He knows Ollie. Sure, she was a bit much at times, but she was nice. She was pretty. There was no need for your vile words. 

You can tell he’s about to get defensive about her and that makes you shrink. Willing, you had handed him a reason to choose her over you. 

Looking back at the picture, you purse your lips. “Sorry. That wasn't the right thing to say.”

“You should leave.”

You’re embarrassed over him kicking you out, but you knew you had crossed the line. So much for a peaceful afternoon. You comply, jumping off the desk. Not before making your way over, pressing your soft lips against his neck, which was the only place you could reach, even after tippy toeing. You felt him get stiff. 

“Excuse my manners, Carlos.”

Skipping out the door, he’s left with a single thought. 

He’s fucked. 

-

The next morning, you’re forced to spend the day with your sister. Whether it was for running errands, fighting; it didn’t matter. As long as you made your father happy. All he wanted was for his girls to get along. 

“Go,” Ollie growls as she hands you your bridesmaid dress. Snatching it from her, you slowly climb up the stairs to your room. 

It’s a beautiful dress. Strong, dark, cherry red. Just like blood. It hugs your curves the way you’ve always thought all dresses should. For that reason, too, it made you look…older. Trying your best to get rid of the wrinkles, you smooth it down before making your way back. 

Papi loves it as he starts throwing out compliments. You look beautiful, tesoro! You are a true gem. His eyes are bright and proud as you stand there with a shy smile. And though you thanked him, nothing else mattered but the man right in front of you. 

The Spaniard had just gotten back from a meeting. He was exhausted and wanted nothing more than to eat and sleep the rest of the day, but as soon as he saw a balsé Ollie and an eager father-in-law, he was interested. She had told him to go relax; practically pushing him away. But as soon as you walked down those stairs, he swore his heart had never melted with such a sight. 

His eyes became fixated to the point of no return. You stand there like a divine temptress. A siren who was mixed with innocence. Enough to drool over, but also, to adore from afar. Someone he could worship. If God decided this were his last day on Earth, then he would happily follow, since he finally felt as if his life were complete. 

His big brown eyes are glued onto you as your father spins you. Ollie’s attention flickers between her younger sister and her fiancé. Tears fill up her eyes as she springs off the couch. You’re not bothered by it; don’t even bat an eye. That is until Carlos quickly runs off after her. That was a slap to the face as you show off a wounded smile to your father who stands there lost at the sudden commotion. 

Later on that day, you find yourself trying to forget it all with watered down tequila. That’s really all you could find in such short notice. Leaning against the balcony, you study the soft waves, cold wind causing your skin to flash small goosebumps. 

“Disgusting,” you mumble as you finish the rest of the alcoholic drink. Who knew a simple encounter would set you off?

“Woah there. Are you okay?”

Max cautiously steps closer as you shrug with a sigh. What was there to say? I’m a horrible person. I’m a horrible sister. And yes, we might not get along, but never in a million years did I think I would be falling in love with my future brother-in-law. 

“What are you doing up so late?”

Sheepishly, he raises his cigarette. Letting out a low hum, you raise a brow. “Can I have one?” He knows he shouldn't be the one to give a teenager a form of drug, but you looked so upset, so drained, that he felt as if you needed it. Lighting it up, you bring it up to your lips as you squint at him. He laughs. 

“First time?”

“No. It’s just been a while.”

You’re still not looking at him, but he notices the way you let out shaky breaths. The way you softly pinch your forearm. He frowns. 

“I know we only just met, but do you want to talk about it?”

And maybe it was the gist of the moment. Or that he was being sweet - showing that he cared, but it worked because next thing you knew, you were kissing. He lets out an erotic moan with the taste of your lips. All a mix of cigarettes and tequila. This is wrong. He was friends with Carlos and you were only doing this in a moment of weakness, but you just couldn’t stop. Neither could he. Not when you tasted like a thousand crimes. 

His large hands grab your ass as you gasp, brushing against his cock. He hissed as he pressed his lips much harder. Surely, you will have bruises tomorrow. Adrenaline rushes through your veins as you grind against him. Clumsily, you both make your way to the couch that’s nearby. Straddling him, you continue to dry humping. Slowly, but surely, the warm sensation between your legs starts to form. Panting, you pull away as he tries to angle his face closer to yours. You smile tauntingly. 

“You know what you remind me of?”

You hum, leisurely picking up your filthy actions. He bites back a smile as he grips harder onto your hips. 

“A Lolita.”

A menacing smile looks down at him before you kiss down his thick neck, soft bites being left behind. You can’t recall the moment you start bouncing on his cock, or when he sprawls you open like a map, kneeling down in front of you. It’s all a haze; a delicious one, too. You’re falling like a feather from your climax when you hear a thud. Did you hear that? No, he would mumble as he peppers kisses onto your soft skin. 

The tides are crashing harder now, signaling that the night was growing older. Timidly, you share a goodbye as you start to skip your way back into your room, but one last thing caught your attention.

A broken flower pot on its side and dirt trailing into the Italian home. 

-

More days had passed since your last encounter with the devilish Spaniard. If you were ever in the same room, he wouldn’t even glance at you. He would simply just walk past by. He was mad. Upset about something. You tried to think of what it might’ve been, but when he walked into his office with an infuriated expression, you decided it was time to call a truce. 

Knocking, you flinch at his sharp tone when he commands you away. Ignoring it, you still step in. Head thrown against his chair, man spreading, he has his eyes screwed shut.

“Are you okay?”

Your tone is sticky like honey. It annoys him the way it strings him in. Drumming his finger against the large chair, he angles his head to look at you. You’re almost scared to ask again, so you decide to stand still until he speaks up. 

“Why’d you do it?”

Puzzled, you purse your lips, waiting for further explanation. What was he talking about? Did you do something to make him upset? The thought alone made you feel queasy. When he notices you still don’t understand, he clicks his tongue. 

“Why would you fuck a friend of mine?”

Oh. Was it possible that this was something he was jealous of? Bewildered, you know you can’t deny it so you start to word-vomit. I am so sorry, Carlos. He came onto me that night - he kissed me first. I was confused. I was lured in by his words. I didn’t know what I was doing-

His eyes soften up as you try your best to break it down. But you were a liar; a good one. You knew damn well it was all you. You had kissed him first. You threw him under the bus and you knew that. Did he deserve it? No. Of course not. But you couldn't handle the Spaniard being mad at you.

He signals for you to get closer. Securely, he grasps your hand and hauls you onto his lap. It’s embarrassing how wet you’ve suddenly become; how your mind replicates a plate of jello. 

“I’m sorry he made you feel like that.”

His rough fingers slide up and down your arms and even that leaves you buzzing. Suddenly, you feel feeble. You assure him that you were fine - that it was no big deal. The way he looks at you is what gives you the confidence to lean in closer. A trace of panic slashes his face for a second. He should probably stop this before anything else happens. There was nothing okay about your ass pressed up against him. Or him craving to taste your plump lips. 

“He didn’t make me feel anything I haven't before.”

Your implication irks him far too much, he starts to consider this all an unhealthy encounter. He can’t stop the images of you being with other men. Someone else kissing you, pleasuring you. Whilst your words were suggestive, your features were anything but that. Wide eyes stare back at him, slightly crinkled. Moving your body, you scoot closer as if you weren't already. He growls as he pinches your hip. Then, you're kissing his neck, and he should be pushing you off, but he’s too far gone to pick up on how wrong this all was. I’m sorry I’ve upset you, Mr. Sainz. I didn’t think you would care who fucked me or not.

“I-I don’t. It’s just that you shouldn't be doing stuff like that. You’re too young for all that.”

“That’s where you’re wrong.” You narrow your eyes. “I’m wiser than one might think. I’m mature enough to know who can and can’t fuck me the way I like.” Your gaze focuses extra hard with your confession. As if it were meant for him.

Pressing your ass one last time against his tight pants, you leap off, giggling. 

“Take care, Carlos.”

-

It's a business dinner, your father fills you in as you sit nearby, enjoying a bowl of ice cream, hairollers dangling around your head. Pouting, you reach up to clip one back into place. He smiles.

“You know, lots of young, talented guys are going to be here. It could be a great opportunity to meet someone.”

You make a face at his idea. “Yeah. No, thank you.” Marching over to him, you gently pat his cheek. “I’m not here to meet anyone.”

Signhing, he grabs your hands. “Can I ask you something?” 

“Sure.”

“Are you and Carlos…” Choking on your own saliva, you push away. What? No. Of course not! Why would you even think that? He lets out a breath of relief. “It’s nothing. Ollie just brought it up, but I told her you would never actually do something like that. I know my precious girl.”

The door creaks open as Satan herself walks in, followed by an Angel. First thing you noticed are their intertwined hands. Ollie tries to be coy as she flashes the action right in front of you. She mainly greets your father as she sticks by Carlos like a piece of gum. Hello, he would say to you as you bite back a smile.

“What are we talking about?”

“Your sister might have a boyfriend by the end of the night, that's what,” your father jokes as you slap his shoulder. Boyfriend? The Spaniard’s eyes burn you, subtle threat evident. Ollie fakes a smile as she tugs him back a bit.

“Wow. You know what? That might actually be a good idea. Could help with how uptight you are. But I’m confused, boyfriend as in Max?”

Fury fills you as you shoot daggers right at her. Ollie’s eyes twinkle with satisfaction. You’re dating Max? “Of course not, papi! Ollie is just being a bitch.”

“No, no, no - I don’t think telling the truth is being a bitch. You should be happy, baby sister! You sure sounded like it when you let him fuck you out in the balcony.”

Shocked at her words, you can’t bring yourself to look at your father who stands disappointed. Ollie, that's enough, Carlos warns as he squeezes her hand. She yanks it away, jewelry clinging against each other. 

“My bad. Shit, I forgot. I forgot no one knew what a slut you are. Opening your legs for any man around you. We’re lucky you’re not attracted to your own father.” She lets out a sour laugh. “Now, that would be fucked up.”

“That’s low, Ollie,” you spit, skin feeling as if it's on fire. You know where all this pent up anger is coming from, but she had no right to make up shit for fun. What kind of sister does that? Embarrassed, your eyes flicker to where Carlos stands with a hopeless expression. Licking your lips, you force yourself to walk away.

Slamming the door shut, you let out a loud scream. Why? Why was she always like this to you? A hard knock is what makes you wipe your tears away. Ollie slithers her way in. It hurt you how proud she looked. As if she had achieved something spectacular. 

“The fuck - Are you crying?”

“What do you want?”

She takes a seat on your desk as she dusts off imaginary lint. “I just want to talk. The way sisters do.”

Ricocheting off the bed, you march over to her as you glare. “Sisters? No. You’re nothing of mine.” Ollie yawns as she rubs her eyes. Then, she clears her throat.

“Do you want to know why I hate you? You’re so stupid you probably don’t even know, but don’t worry - that’s what older sisters are for. I’ll explain it to you. Do you remember, Romeo?”

You do. It hits you all at once; the memories of the first man you ever slept with. He was nice - kind enough to teach you what a man likes. He had jet black hair, a smirk always lingering on his lips. He was tall and a local from where you grew up. He was the perfect experience. 

But that still didn’t make any sense. What did he have to do with Ollie?

She lets out a wet laugh. Already, you can see her own tears as she tries to quickly wipe them away. 

“I loved you; I did. You were my sister before my enemy. But I also loved him. He was my first love. Promised me a home high up in the hills. But do you know what it feels like to see someone you love fuck your little sister against a wall?”

We probably shouldn’t-

Don’t worry. I’ve got you. No ones going to see us. Men love a good thrill.

“You and him…”

She licks her chapped lips. “We had barely started dating.” 

“I didn’t know - I swear to God, I didn’t know!”

If you had, you never would’ve looked his way. Ollie was everything to you growing up. You admired her. Loved her. That’s why it broke you when she started pushing you away as if you were some disease. Later, when your parents got a divorce, she didn’t second guess it when she made the decision to stay behind; causing you to leave with your mother. She never cared for you after that and you never knew why.

But now you did.

“I was young…Younger than I am now, how was I supposed to know?”

“Well, I’m glad we agree on something. You truly don’t know anything.” Strolling over to you, she smiles at your desperate state. “Which is why I’m not making the same mistake twice. Stay away from my husband.”

-

Ollie’s words felt as if they had opened up past scars. You meant what you said. Romeo would have been someone you would have disregarded if you had known the truth. But like always, you were the one with the entire blame and that you didn’t like.

Despite wearing a pretty dress - one that everyone gawked at you for - you felt ugly. Has it always been this way? Maybe it did make sense as to why she despised you. Playing with your bracelets, you try to pretend you’re interested in meeting your fathers investors. You feel completely exposed when they all stare straight at your chest area.

“How are we all doing?”

They all look up at the Spanirad as they start spitting out their congratulations for his upcoming wedding. He thanks them before checking up on you. His eyes connect with yours. Butterflies swirl inside your stomach as you smile weakly. He’s the first one to truly talk to you that night. To show he cares about your wellbeing rather than the way your dress fits you. Though, you looked stunning as always. Excusing yourself, you make your way into the kitchen, looking for something stronger.

Serving yourself a shot of vodka, you throw your head back, burning sensation sliding down your throat. Coughing, you grip onto the counter. Soft moans whisper in between the walls. You stop breathing for a minute as you try your best to identify where it might be coming from. Striding closer, you press your ear against the closet door. Fuck, a mans voice groans. This is not something you should intervene with, it's not your right, but that all changes when you hear a name that makes you burn all over again. So fucking tight, Ollie.

Pushing the door open, you see your sister banging one of your fathers investors. Ben, you think his name is. Honestly, you could care less. Briskly, she pushes her gown back down as he zips his pants. You let out a cold laugh as you clap in amusement.

“Oh, God. This is great. Amazing. You really outdid yourself, Ol.”

Stepping forwards, she grabs your arm harshly as she tugs you out. “How much did you see?”

You purse your lips as you theatrically scrunch your face up in pleasure. “Oh, Ben! Fuck me! Oh, oh, yes, baby, right there!” You bow. “That much.”

“How old are you, sweetheart?” The brunette says as he scans your body. Ollie glares at him as he steps back.

“Not a word of this to Carlos.”

“Why would I keep this a secret? He deserves to know. What do you think, Benny?”

Panicked, the older man shakes his head as his eyes plead for mercy. That’s enough. Raising your hands up in defense, you grin back at Ollie. “You’re not mentioning anything if you know what's good for you.”

“Oh, yeah?” You tilt your head back. “And what’s good for me?”

“If you tell him anything of what you just heard - saw - then I’ll just tell him how you’ve been bending over for every man in this house. Charles, Lando, Lewis, Pierre…you name it.”

“He won’t believe you…”

She laughs sinisterly. “No, I think he will. I mean…You’ve already done it before.”

“Hey,” his soft voice enters the room as you turn to look at him. The Spaniard’s eyes dance between you and your sister and Ben. “Is something wrong?”

Ollie shakes her head with a bright smile as she walks up and kisses him. You flinch. “Nothing, amor. We were just talking.” She runs her hands through his hair as his eyes remain on you. 

“Are you okay?” 

Nodding, you grind your teeth together. “Yes. Ollie was just introducing me to Ben.” Awkwardly, the man waves from behind you. Slowly, Carlos nods.

“Papi asked me to introduce them. You know - with the whole ‘boyfriend’ thing!”

“He was serious about tha- Oh. Okay.” He reaches down to take your sister's hand as he eyes you and Ben. “We should probably leave you two alone then.”

Hastily, you nod. “Sure.”

-

If you were willing to try and fix your relationship with Ollie before, then that was long gone. This is what you knew her for. A pretender. She wistfully makes everyone believe she’s some sort of saint, when really, she’s a wolf in sheep's clothing. She’s a hypocrite. She has a man that everyone desires and she does this? 

You hated her.

You hated seeing the way she beams when Carlos’ mother gives her a necklace that belonged to her own mother. She didn’t deserve it. Or the way his sisters helped her slip in and out of her dress, making sure it's perfect for the big day.

Still, you try your best to be a supportive sister. Especially around the woman who raised a man like Carlos. Biting down on your lip, you take a sip of your champagne as Ollie disappears behind the curtains with the lady who is taking some last minute measurements. Reyes smiles warmly.

“We didn’t know Ollie had a younger sister.”

You smile. “Best well kept secret, right?” The older lady laughs. Your heart warms up as you notice it's the same way Carlos does. Ana and Blanca grin.

“Well, we’re glad to finally get to know you. Might I add, you’re beautiful. Those eyes!”

“Thank you,” you blush.

Ana takes a sip of her drink before clicking her fingers. “That’s what you remind me of! You - Carlos - almost have the same puppy eyes!” She turns to her mother. “Mamá! What’s that saying? Soulmates look alike…Something like that, no?”

“Be quiet, Ani,” Blanca hisses before smiling apologetically. “Excuse her - she can be a bit invasive.”

“No problem,” you reassure as you bite back a smile. Ana frowns.

“Lo siento, I don’t mean to come off as overbearing. It’s just that you do…”

Reyes clears her throat as she winks over at her daughter. “Don’t misunderstand us, please. We love Ollie, we do! It’s just…you’re different.” She examines you. “I like you.”

Their words stick with you like a post it. Do soulmates look alike? Playing with the sand, you circle your finger agonizingly slow. Why did their words matter so much to you?

“I always find you alone.”

You stick your tongue out at Carlos as he chuckles at your childish behavior. You pat the sand, inviting him to join you. What are you doing out here? You point at the ocean. “I told you it was my favorite place.” 

“Ah. I see.” 

You sneak in a quick look before looking straight ahead. “Nervous?”

“About?”

“Marrying a monster.”

He gives you a deadpan look, bumping his shoulder to yours. “She’s not that bad, you know.” He glances at you. “Ollie has been there for me through so much. Through my failures. Through my accomplishments. She’s the one who convinced me not to quit racing.”

“You were thinking of quitting?”

He nods. “It’s not as easy as it looks. It fucks you up mentally. But she…” He smiles. “She helped me overcome that. I thank her everyday for it.”

It’s a bittersweet feeling hearing him talk about her like that. On one hand, you’re thankful that she had made him realize that he should carry on doing what he loved. On the other, you knew her true reasons. She loved having a famous fiancé; someone she can brag out to the rest of the world.

Somewhere, far away, you hear a melody. It’s low enough that if you didn’t pay close attention, you wouldn’t catch on to it, but you did. You grab his hand, leading him to stand up. He quirks a full brow. 

“Want to dance?”

“I thought you said you didn’t know how to.”

“Nice memory, old man.” You gently kick some sand towards him. “But I feel like dancing. Plus, you should be practicing.”

Tugging you closer, he hums. “Alright. Only because that's true.”

His hands feel warm against you - so much so - it feels as if he’s on fire. An ease comes to it, too, as you both sway under the moonlight. You giggle when he spins you, dress flying around you like petals. The way you grin makes his heart speed up in a way he’s never felt before. It’s alarming. He pinches your hip as you yelp.

“Mentirosa.”

“Wha- No, I’m not! Can’t dance to save my life.” Clumsily, you dig your toes into the sand. He winces playfully. 

The air grows heavy the moment he brushes your hair behind your ear. Your eyes flutter shut as you lean against his warm hand. One look, and he’s hooked. It’s meant to be something lighthearted, but the way he wishes to feel your soft lips against his indicates that it’s not. He’s tried his best to see you for what you are; his fiancée’s little sister. Someone he shouldn’t find himself caring if they slept well, ate their three meals a day, or that they didn’t talk to any other man that wasn’t him or your father. This was sick and twisted and yet…

His lips meet yours as your eyes spring open for a nanosecond before letting yourself go under. It feels as if you’re exploding like firecrackers on a Fourth of July. Something about the way he cradles your face endearingly has your head spinning. Knees become weak, but his grip is secure. It’s better than you could have ever imagined. His tongue fights for dominance and when you don’t give it to him, he squeezes your ass. Moaning, you open your mouth and that's all it took. He kisses you the way you’ve seen in movies - only better. He’s hungry - desperate - for you as you smile against him. Biting down on his bottom lip, he groans as he kisses you harder than before. You were beginning to think your lips were about to snap. 

Letting go, he stands there, staggered. He’s ashamed when he realizes that he regrets nothing. You both stay quiet; only waves crashing and heavy pants being heard. At first you think he’s going to apologize, and maybe that might have been the case, but no words would come out. Pressing a peck against his swollen lips, you smile.

“Goodnight, Carlos.”

-

Carlos rues the day that he kissed you because that only made things more complicated. He couldn’t find a way to not look for you when he walks into the garden, full of family and friends. Or the way he would want to punch Max when he made you laugh. But there is also something sweet. Like the way you would gossip with his sisters and share stories with his parents. He had never seen them laugh and smile so much, not even with Ollie. 

He flinches at the cold hand that wraps around his own. Faking a smile, he presses a soft kiss on top of his fiancée’s head. Continuing the clicking against her glass, she smiles widely. 

“Grazie a tutti per esservi uniti a noi!”

Everyone claps and a few of the drivers whistle. Rolling your eyes, you lean your head against your father’s shoulder. His heart skips a beat. Ollie continued her speech filled with thank you’s, thank you’s and more thank you’s. Your father kissed your cheek before making his way up to his eldest. Taking the microphone from Ollie, he starts to share warm felt memories about her. You have to admit, you’re jealous about their bond. Somewhere in the past, that had been viciously stolen from you. He notices the way you shrink with sadness and he finds himself about to walk over to you when Ollie laughs awkwardly. Amor. It’s your turn.

“Right.” Fixing his rolled up sleeves, he smiles at the crowd of guests. “Uh…Well like my fiancée said, we’re extremely happy to have you all here. It takes a lot to get this many people out here all at once.” A few laughs echo as he continues. “This means a lot to me, too, to have my friends and family. To have met new faces.” His gaze flickers past you as your breath hitches. “Many ask me what about Ollie made me fall in love with her…And I’m here to be as brutally honest as I could get. I love the way she makes me feel as crazy as the ocean. I could spend calm days with her and not worry about getting bored. Or I could find myself getting into trouble. Ollie has made me a better man. Because of her I know what true love is…” His loopy eyes meet yours. “True love are the waves that meet the shore.” 

He lets out a sheepish smile. I want love like that, Lando yells out as he downs his glass of milk. Everyone claps and cheers and that’s where your nightmare begins. 

Let’s give it up for the happy couple! Kiss, kiss, kiss!

The chants continue as Carlos let out a nervous laugh. That’s something private between me and her, he tries but finds himself being booed. Leaning down, he pulls Ollie in for a peck before pulling away with a tight lipped smile. He hates himself for his sudden realization.

Kissing her suddenly did feel like a chore.

With all the whoops and whistles being thrown out by friends, he finds himself trying to find you. It doesn’t take long as he notices you had picked up on your conversation with the Dutchman. His jaw clenches. 

“Maybe Ollie’s younger sister would like to share a few words.”

Why would he say that? Frozen, you choke mid sip. Me? Your father beams as he nods excitedly. Oh! That’s such a great idea! Unfamiliar faces turn to look at you as they wait. Taking in a deep breath, you nod as you make your way over.

As he hands you the microphone, he can’t stop himself from grazing his fingers against your hand. Coughing, you yank it fast. 

“Ciao a tutti.” Everyone greets you back as you lick your lips. You take a moment to figure out what to say, but there’s not much. Cringing, you try to come up with anything. “As some may know, I’m Ollie’s sister…And I could go on forever about how great she is-” You suppress a sarcastic laugh as Carlos knowingly winks. Your nerves ease up. “But I think I should talk about the man who makes my sister the happiest. Carlos Sainz…When I first met you, you seemed uptight - more than the Grinch - but slowly I got to know the man that even my papi swoons over.” 

True, your father laughs. “You’re kind, respectful, and charming…Ollie is one very lucky girl. But there’s something also sensitive inside of you…Despite the permanent frown on your face, you still seem to like days by the ocean. Maybe it's a reminder that peace still exists or maybe it's the way…” Looking up, you see everyone staring deeply. Suddenly, you feel like this might be oversharing as you twirl your dress. “...Or maybe it's the way your face lights up when you take my sister dancing on the sand. Uh…Thank you for making her happy.” Handing the mic back to Carlos, you smile weakly at the strong claps. 

“That was quite sentimental,” Max points out as you bite down on your finger. Was it too much? He shakes his head. “Don’t worry. It looks like you and Carlos get along well enough. I, for sure, thought he hated you with the way he looks at you.”

“Oh. Yeah.” You pause. “I thought so, too.”

-

Aside from the fact that the wedding was approaching quickly, the mansion was quiet. The silence can almost be heard; it's scary. Carefully, you fix your dress as you skip down the stairs barefoot, lollipop painting your lips red. 

Peeking around the corner, giddiness fills your body as you snatch a handful of pre-washed cherries. Earlier that day, your father had scolded you for finishing the new batch. Popping them into your mouth, you hum a song as you kick your legs against the kitchen counter. It creeps you out the moment a chill runs down your spine. As if someone were watching.

“Boo!”

“Santa mierda,” you yelp as you clutch your heart. Laughing loudly, the Spaniard bends over as he gasps for air. You pout and kick his knee. “Cabrón, you scared me! Warn a girl!”

“Fuck - I’m sorry.” His lips form a thin line as he stands firm. Slowly, the corners lift up, wobbly at his poor attempt to not burst out laughing. You frown.

“You’re fucked up.”

Again, his laughs echo the dimly lit kitchen. “Can I have some?”

“No. They’re mine. Grab your own.”

He narrows his eyes. “Aren’t you on cherry prohibition or something like that?” You gasp as you look around before flipping him off.

“Keep your voice low or papi will disown me!”

He zips his lips as he whispers. “I won’t tell a soul. But I want one of those in exchange.”

Tapping your finger against your lip, you pretend to think about it before nodding. You extend your hand out, a single red cherry for him. You’re waiting for him to take it and leave to where he came from, but what he does instead has you swallowing a lump down your throat.

Crouching down, he opens his mouth as he picks up the cherry, lips slightly wrapping around your fingers. This was triggering you as you tried your best to keep sane. But there was no way of going about that when he looked up at you with deep, brown eyes. Licking the red juice sliding down your hands, he steps back. He licks his lips before swallowing. It amazes you the way his Adam’s Apple jumps up and down; thick neck begging to be sucked on.

“Fucking delicious.”

Blinking, you look down at the rest of the cherries in hand. All of a sudden they seemed like a sultry fruit rather than a drupe. 

“Wouldn’t you agree?”

“Of cours-s-e.”

Stupefied, you throw the leftovers straight into the trash bin. You had no clue what made you do that. A small chuckle escapes past his lips as you shut your eyes in embarrassment. Maybe they weren’t as sweet as you made them seem. Too mortified to speak, you keep your eyes focused on the way your feet hit the wood as a distraction. It takes all of you to not run away as he steps closer once again.

“Is there something in that dirty little mind of yours?”

The room feels hot all of a sudden as you shake your head. There’s no words in your vocabulary when he stands this close. You can smell his cologne mixed with shampoo. If richness were a scent then this would definitely be it. His hands cage you in like a butterfly behind glass. Clicking his tongue, he steps aside as you let out a shaky breath. Taking the opportunity, you jump off the edge, bare feet slapping against the cold tiles. Cuidado, he mutters when you almost slip from the sudden action. 

“If you need anything I’ll be upstairs.”

Not sure why you said that, but it seemed like a rationalized excuse. Por supuesto. And that would have been the end of your night. That would have been another successful day of not falling for the forbidden apple. You had held out for so long; the kiss didn’t count. But it only takes a few steps for him to clear his throat. Almost as if this were your secret language, you spin and you find him staring after you; dazzling eyes following your every movement as if he’s trying his best to decipher anything you do.

Smiling wide enough for your eyes to look as if they had a smile of their own, you think - fuck the consequences - as you clumsily run up to him; jumping like a kid onto a tree. Legs wrap around his torso and his hands hold you close to him.

“Do you-”

“Yes,” he whispers. “Since the first day you walked through those doors: yes.”

If you had thought you were obsessed with his kisses before, you were wrong. So very wrong. Because now you were addicted. He kisses you with urgency as you run your hands through his locks, so soft against your fingers. He grunts when you tug on it. 

His kisses were stimulating enough for you to plead for something. Anything. Smirking, he pecks your nose before leading you both upstairs. It amazed you how he could continue kissing you as he hurried to get to the bedroom. Noticing him making his way into his and Ollie’s, you pull away. There’s no way you would let him do that. You spin your finger lazily through his hair.

“How about mine?”

He doesn't care if he fucked you against the floor, he needed you. Kicking the door shut, he throws you onto your bed as you squeal. He smiles fondly as you brush your hair out of your face. He’s had his fair share of girls. Models, nepo-babies, Ollie, but none of them compare to you. 

He was almost scared of touching you again, even though that’s exactly what he wanted. Doe eyes stare back at him as his cock gets harder at the sight. Ollie had always tried her best to look at him that way, but you didn’t even have to try. It naturally happened. Nothing about this felt forced.

You look untouchable. Like a complete goddess waiting to be ruined. Carlos, you would say as you squeeze your tits, eyes struggling to stay open. Carlos, please. Don’t be mean. Towering over you, he shakes his head.

“Linda, I could never be mean to you.”

Slipping your dress off, he groans when he sees you weren’t wearing anything underneath. He shuts his eyes as he tries to not finish inside his pants, which by the way, were starting to hurt. He pinches your nipple before slapping your tits. You hiss. 

“Please tell me you did this for me and no one else…”

“You know it’s always been for you.”

With that, he stands up as he yanks his shirt off; jeans and boxers following right after. A bit worried, you find yourself staring at his rock hard dick. You had never been with some as big as him; it kind of looked as if it would split you right open. That didn’t stop you from wanting it, though.

“Don’t worry. I’ll prepare you nice and good, cariño.”

His lustful tone snaps you out of it as you nod. His fingers rub your wet folds as you cling onto his bicep. C-Carlos. “I know, baby, I know,” he coos as he focuses on the way your face pinches. He slowly starts slipping his finger in as you gasp at the thickness. So big and long. He chuckles. “Oh, come on now. It’s not even fully inside of you yet.”

Stunned, you look down and sure enough, it isn’t. You almost cry out when you notice it’s barely even the tip. “I don’t think it’s going to fit.” He kisses your temple as he slips his finger back out. 

“Let’s start off with something else then.”

You almost pass out when he angles himself in front of your pussy. Glistening clit stares back at him as he moans. So pretty, he thinks as he touches you slowly. He stops himself, though, as he goes in for kitten licks instead. You squirm. His large hands pushed you down against the bed, to keep you in place. 

“Do you want me to make the ache in between your legs go away?”

“Yes.”

His pink tongue teases you as he hums. You bite down sharply. “You’re going to have to stay still. Relax, bonita.” Following instructions, you close your eyes, trying your best to not think of the handsome Spaniard. As if that were possible. Impressed, he leans in again as he licks you, picking up your pre-cum. Oh, fuck. 

Then it’s almost as if Carlos is taken over by something as he dives in like some animal. His stubble burns your legs, but you’re too fucked out to even care. You’re sure you're being loud, but how can you not be when he licks and sticks his tongue inside of you, exploring places you never knew existed. You choke back a moan when he rubs his nose against your clit, only adding to the euphoria. 

“Yes. Oh. Fuck, yes.” Looking down at the brunette, you find him taking in your appearance as he rubs himself against the sheets; a way to try and pleasure himself. And that’s enough for you to cum all over his face. He smiles as he greedily tries to drink up everything you give him. He knows he lost control, but he loves the way you were able to keep up. To take everything he gave you.

And that was only going to multiply.

“You taste so fucking sweet,” he groans in between your legs, picking up the white nectar. Crying out, you push his face away as you gasp for air. He sucks your tits as you take a break. His tongue swirls around your bud as you wiggle against him like a fish that jumped out onto land. He laughs. “Can you handle my fingers, now?”

No, you whisper as you push him away. But he knows you’re giving up too soon. He knows there’s an animal inside of you and he’s just waiting for it to decide to join him. He ignores you as he slides his fingers down to your center. You mewl against him. “Hey, hey, I got you, cariño. I’m right here.” 

His voice makes you clench harder against his fingers as he grins like a kid at a candy store. Slowly, you start dripping more than before, making it easier for his fingers to slide in and out of your hole. Can you handle a third? “Yes,” you respond, eyes still screwed shut. Hot air hits your ear.

“There she is…Good girl. Justo asi.”

Picking up speed, his fingers reach the gummy part inside of you as you scratch his arms in an attempt to remind yourself to not black out. His long fingers cross, doing figure 8’s as he touches your g-spot as if he knows your entire body better than any map. Leaning up, he bites down onto your nipple before sucking hard. You should be embarrassed with the way you squeal and shake against his actions, but he just made it so hard not to. Much to your surprise, if you dare believe it, he does the thing you last expected.

He adds a fourth digit.

“No, no, no,” you pathetically chant as your eyes fly open. He cocks his head to he side as he clicks in tongue as if seeing you struggle filled him with pride. 

“Ah, ah, ah. Just trust me; do you trust me?”

He didn’t need to ask because he knew you did. I do, you whimper out as you start grinding against his fingers. Amazement fills his dark eyes as he looks down to where you clench around him, juices sliding down his arm. It only takes a couple of more swirls before your shriek, velvety walls clenching around him as you reach your climax. 

Bringing his fingers up to his mouth, he licks your cum as if it were a meal he’s dreamed of having his entire life. Your mouth hangs open as you watch him lick them clean. You’re sure he’s going to fuck you now, but that flies out the window as he lays down as he drags you onto his face.

This man had stamina. Lots of it. You're trying to beg for a break of some sort. I can suck your dick. Give you a handjob. Just please let me rest. But he wasn’t even listening. 

Maybe somewhere deep down, he knew this would be the only night he would have you to himself and if that meant no pauses, then he would push all your buttons.

Like a starved man, he starts licking you all over as you grind against his face. The way he sucks on your clit and adds his fingers make you squeal as you push down harder. His nose rubs against you in such a way, it has you seeing stars. He seems to be enjoying that though, as his moans vibrate against you. Biting hard onto your lip, you try to distract yourself as you reach behind you for his rock hard cock. The moment your small hand wraps around him, he growls like a lion.

Smug over his reaction, your hand slowly starts jerking him off as he eats you out with more urgency. It takes all of you to control your actions as he shakes his face in between your legs. S-slow down, Carlos. He grunts as his actions speed up, but so does your hand. Gripping onto his erection much harder, you furrow your brows as you twist your wrist. Choking on your juices, he opens his eyes wide, whimpers flying past his lips.

Smiling down like the devil, you nod as your hand picks up its pace. Now it's his turn to be groaning with pleasure. He seems to have forgotten what he was doing as he takes in strong whiffs of your aroma. You shudder when his warm breaths escape to warm up your dripping pussy.

His cock twitches and he seems to snap right back into it; already diving back into your hole. Lurching forward, you grip onto his hair as the other remains wrapped around him. It’s a game to see who can make the other cum first, and you were not about to be the loser. 

Lively, you circle your thumb around his pink tip as he groans and finishes all around your hand. Sucking hard, he bites gently onto your clit as you screech and trap his head between your thighs. Shaking, you twitch against him as you reach your third orgasm that night. Huffing, you roll off him as he laps his tongue.

The way he looks at you makes you want to ride his face all over again, but you know you needed a break if you didn’t want the night to end so soon. Kneeling in front of him, you raise your ass up high as you lean down to wrap your lips around his cock. He flinches, slightly sensitive, but doesn’t dare push you away. Instead, he rubs your face with his calloused thumb; encouraging you. There's something so hot about the way your lips stretch around his fat cock. The way drool exits your mouth, messy blots of mascaras on the corners of your eyes.

Light of my life. Fire of my loins.

Gagging around him, you squeeze your eyes shut, feet curling up along the way. For sure, your throat would be bruised tomorrow, but you didn’t mind. In fact, you wanted that. Deepthroating him as best as you can, your small hands wrap around the rest of his length. He was huge. Dirty slurps bounce off the walls. You try your best to not pull away when you feel his sticky pre-cum connect inside your throat. Not when he looked so good with his head thrown back. His thick neck is a clear display. With his large hands wrapped around your hair as he fucks your face like theres no tomorrow. Spanish curses flowing past his lips. 

“Que linda. Arrodillada como una santa.”

When you giggle around his erection, he groans, head thudding against the headboard. His mind quickly slips over to Ollie - but not in the way one might expect. It hits him like a truck when he compares her to you. With Ollie, she would last at least 20 minutes before calling it a night. He pretended not to mind - he would never force her to do something she doesn’t want to, of course - but once she would knock out, his large hand would slide down past his boxers, looking for a new release. 

Then there’s you, ever so pretty. It seems like with everything you do, you want more. You sucking him off as if you’ve done this for him a lifetime ago. Sure, you’re struggling, but that only makes him harder. You’re trying to keep up with him and it’s working. Now, it’s like he’s the one trying to keep up. Swallowing, your throat closes around him as he flies forward, voice cracking as he presses for more. 

Glossy eyes look back up at him as you repeat your action. With one last blow, he pulls out as he cums all over your face. His dick immediately gets hard again when you smile wide, fingers going to pick up his mess. Greedily, you pout as you wrap your lips around your finger like the lollipop you had been sucking on a few hours ago.

“Fuck,” he mumbles, abs contracting together as he tries his best to even out his breaths. 

“Will you fuck me now?” 

You’re moving at a snail's pace as you lick his sweaty neck. A chill runs down his spine with the feeling of your warm tongue. Grinding slowly against his thigh, you throw your head back with pleasure, wet lips rubbing against him. He smiles.

“You’re a dirty girl, you know that?”

“I thought that’s what you liked about me, papi.”

In a flash, he flips you onto your back as he hovers over you like a giant. A beautiful, beautiful, giant. His large muscles he works so hard for stare back at you as you admire with an open mouth. It looks as if he could carry mountains on his shoulders. Dilated pupils admire you as you let out a pathetic whimper. Long gone were his brown eyes as they now appear completely black. Sensual.

“Then you should be fucked as such.”

With that, he swings your tan legs over his broad shoulders, practically bending you like a pretzel. You pat yourself on the back for all those pilate classes. Jerking himself off a bit, he looks straight at you, making sure this was something you wanted. The way you bat your cartoon eyes is all he needs to slip inside of you.

First thing he notices is how tight you are despite him already stretching you out to perfection. Raw moans leave both your lips as you try your best to adjust to his size. You had been with men before - that’s all you really knew - but no one’s cock had ever made you burn with such satisfaction. More than satisfaction. He’s reassuring you with his words in order for you to relax.

I’ve got you, preciosa. Just let go for me. I’m right here.

Still, you can’t help but squirm underneath him. His fingers make their way to your mouth as you stare back confused. Suck, he commands before forcing them in. Caught off guard, you gag around them for a bit before your tongue begins to twirl around them. Your cheeks burn up as you hear your low mewls. Ah- ah- ah, you cry out against his digits as he grins down at you. Retracting them, he slides them down to your clit as he starts rubbing small circles.

“Oh God.”

Instantly, you open up against his tired cock as he hums. There you go, he praises as you make it easier for him to thrust into you. You should both be ashamed of the way gushy sounds bloom from your mixed cum. Or the way he pounds into you so hard and fast that it has you sliding further back against the bed, hair tangling along the way. His fingers dig into your calves as he holds them in place.

“Mierda,” he wheezes as he throws his head back, ripping his eyes away from the way your puffy clit envelopes around him. Pants and whimpers escape you as you arch your back from the fulfillment. 

Carlos is a man - you know that - but in this moment; right now: he’s proving it the way a scientist would their hypothesis. His cock brushes against your g-spot as you gasp at the sensation. He’s looking at you as if you held the key to all secrets. 

The keys for the gate to Heaven.

Though he knows that this all feels like Heaven, he deserves nothing but Hell for cheating on Ollie. But that’s the least of his worries.

“Does that feel good, bonita?” 

Wide eyes look up at him desperately as you nod to the point where your neck starts to ache. Yes - Oh God, yes. So good, Carlitos. Yeah, baby - right there. Snapping his hips harder against you, your mind goes foggy with the way his hair flops around him. Sweat causing long strands to stick to his face. Beads of sweat drip down your legs as he presses sloppy kisses. His cheeks look as if he’s been out in the sun for hours. 

In this moment; he looked immortal.

“Carlos, I’m gonna-”

“Hold it.”

Like a doll, you flop back against the bed as you start to leak acid. No - please. Don’t ask me to do that. Feeling a sharp sting, you gasp. His hands dives back in to massage your cheek after slapping you. He cocks his head with fake sympathy. “I know you can do it,” - thrust - “Wait for me, yeah?”

You have no word as you wail - tits bouncing with every assault from his hip. Your stomach burns with the way his abs glisten, with the way his bottom lip juts out, or the way his muscles shine with a layer of sweat as they hug your legs like a teddy bear. 

He was yours. In this moment, he was yours.

“Alright, linda-” He brushes your hair out of your face as he wipes your sweat with his hand. “Cum for me?”

It’s an out of body experience the moment you squirt around his dick - the way your tummy feels like it's on fire. Sore groans leave his lips as he finishes inside of you, brown eyes trained on the way you gush around him. He freezes in place at the feeling. You squirm for a few seconds below falling limp against the bed. The room smells like nothing but filthy sex. 

Pulling out of you, he carefully places your legs back down before kissing your ribs. Then your bruised tits. Then your cheeks, forehead, and lastly, your lips that taste like home. Sighing against him, you try your best to remember the way he kisses you as if you're the only form of oxygen that exists. As if this were a dystopian world and you were the only source of survival.

He pecks your lips once more before brushing his fingers against your temple. “Get some sleep.” Yawning, you nod as your eyes flutter like a butterfly's wings. Will you stay? And he doesn’t know what takes over him when he says-

“I will.”

-

When you wake up you notice it’s still dark out. The moon shines, eyes flickering around, looking for the Spaniard. You let out a low breath of relief when you see him sitting on the edge of the bed. 

“Ollie,” he whispers into the phone as he runs a hand against his jaw. “...I made a mistake.”

Your heart stops with his words. He makes sure to speak low, thinking you're sound asleep. She - I - it was a mistake. She’s just a kid…Fuck. She’s just a child. Your heart shatters with the evident blame in his voice. You weren’t a kid. Sniffling, you stop breathing when you realize you’re crying. He pauses for a moment before standing up and making sure you’re okay. Bringing the phone up against his ear, he shakes, already walking out the door.

“Where are you? Let me just see you, amor. I’ll explain it all.”

-

There’s a saying that goes: You know, a heart can be broken, but it keeps on beating, just the same.

You would personally like to punch that person in the face. It’s not true. It doesn’t beat the same - because then why does it hurt everytime it pounds against your chest? Why is it hard to breath when the priest says-

“You may now kiss the bride!”

Everyone’s faces are blurry; cheers sound far away. You can’t be too sure you're standing upright as your father beams at the sight of Ollie pressing her lips up against Carlos. The way his hands slide down to her waist as shows her off proudly like some champion ring is what hurts the most. You feel flames all over your skin, letting out a flinch when your fathers signals for you to clap, too.

You don’t know what happened after that night. Whether Ollie forgave him or not - though clearly she had. Maybe she didn’t know about you the same way he didn’t know about Ben. This was all starting to feel like some nightmare. But it’s very much real life with the way the newlyweds hold hands, smiling brightly as guests throw a mixture of confetti and baby breath.

“Nice ceremony.”

“What? Oh.” You shrug towards Max as he points over at the couple. “Y-yeah. It was…”

He goes over his next words for a moment because Lord knows that if he has it all wrong then he would appear to be the biggest jerk to ever exist. “You fell in love with him, didn’t you?”

“I-I-I’m not sure I understand,” you trample over your words as your cheeks burn the same color of your red dress. He shares a small smile.

“It’s okay. I won’t tell anyone.”

Walking away, you’re left alone, second guessing everything. The violin seemed too happy. The guests seemed too bright. All of this was fake, couldn’t they see? Pursing your lips, you try your best to hide your broken heart as you catch up with old friends. How is college? How does it feel like having a brother-in-law who drives for Formula 1? Must feel pretty great, right? 

The night is boring. Half of it you spend faking smiles and the other you spend trying to avoid the Spaniard. Life was better back in Spain, where ironically, he was never around despite it being his home country. You’re in the middle of conversing with the Dutchman - who quite frankly is an honest listener - when Ollie walks up looking like a ball of whipped cream. Can I talk to my sister alone, please? Max’s concerned eyes ask if you’re okay with that as you nod. Slumping away, he squeezes your knee one last time.

Blue Velvet plays as she fixes herself onto the stool right next to you. “Have you tried the cocktails? They have cherry flavored; your favorite.” Something about her sweet voice makes you unsteady as you raise a brow. She shows off her veneers. “This is weird. Sorry. I’m just so…happy.” 

“Good to know.”

“But enough about me!” She places her left hand over yours, shiny rock sitting perfectly. You wince. “I want to talk about you! How’s school?”

“Like you care.”

She pouts. “I do now…” You furrow your brows. What do you mean now? She gasps. “Oh, you poor thing! You don’t know I know!” Your stomach drops. “Well, you know, as your older sister, I’m also your guardian since our mother is too fucked up to look after you…And a little birdie filled me in on your reputation back in Spain.” She giggles as she takes a sip of your drink. “Doesn’t surprise me, though. It only makes sense that you keep messing around with men old enough to be your father. You always had a thing for those.”

“What does this have to do with anything?”

Ollie grins ear to ear when she notices how annoyed you’ve become. “Carlos told you he was born in Madrid, right? Okay, well, he also has a whole bloodline there. And let’s just say, a cousin of his - my goodness, his daughters are beautiful - is a professor at your Uni.”

No.

“And well this birdie also told me how you’ve been sneaking in and out of his lecture room, late at night. And I wonder…What have you and him been doing behind closed doors?”

It can’t be. 

Professor Vázquez de Castro, he says as he extends his hand out, eyes roaming every inch of your body.

Suddenly, the name sounds familiar. The surname is Carlos’ extended one. Ollie’s eyes shine. “I see it’s clicking.”

“What do you want from me?”

“I want you to leave me and my husband alone. I want you to grab your things and leave. Don’t look back; just leave. Don’t contact papi ever again. I don’t want to hear a single thing from you. It’s bad enough you’ve already fucked my spouse.”

She knows. He told her. And they still got married. 

“Ollie, don’t…”

Tugging your hand harshly, she slaps her phone on it. And you don’t know how, but in it, it’s a video of you riding your Professor - Carlos’ cousin.

“Leave or I’ll show this to him. Your choice.”

Wet sobs leave your mouth as you shake your head in disbelief. How did this happen? Who took this video?

“Ollie, please…I love him.”

Her gaze sharpens as she takes the phone back and stands up. “You know what to do.”

Bringing your shaky hand up to your lips, you stare in shock. Wobbly legs walk past Max as he asks if you’re okay. One last smile looks back at him before you brush past by. 

Carlos is craning his neck, looking for you. He had confessed that night, but so had Ollie. He was breaking off the engagement. Spilling apologies as she cried against his chest. Despite it all, he still cared for your sister. But he knew it wasn’t going to work out. He was ready to leave when she brought up the tape of you and a cousin he didn’t even know he had. I’ll get her expelled. Don’t do this, Carlos. And so he stayed. He knew how much you loved school, regardless of what others might think. I just want to help others, you swooned one day by the pool. It’s what I wish someone had done for me.

You get to him before he spots you as you tap on his shoulder. He fills up with worry when he sees your red brimmed eyes. Sheepishly, you take his handkerchief as you wipe your rosy nose. What happened? Who made you cry? You shrug.

“Carlos…I love you.” He blinks. You let out a wet laugh as you lean up to kiss him. You didn’t care who saw anymore. This was it. He doesn’t seem to care either as his hands wrap around your waist. Holding you close, as if you might vanish into thin air. He was the waves, you were the shore. Pulling away, you wink. “Save me a dance, yeah?” 

Then, you’re walking away. Becoming smaller as you stroll over to the Italian house. Clutching his chest, he chokes: I-I…I.

“Carlos!”

Turning to face Ollie, he sees her waving him over to the giant cake. 

“Coming.”

-

Running into the quiet house, he calls your name. He looks behind every door, hoping to find the girl in red. Stumbling up the stairs, he swings your door open. He breathes heavily when he doesn’t find you, even here. Panicked, he grips his hair in despair. Only then, does it occur to him to open the restroom door, hoping to not scare you.

“¿Bonita?”

Silence. He still pushes it open as he carefully walks in, finding no harm in checking. And why? Why couldn’t he be as truthful like you were? Risk it the way you would have willingly done. Why did he let you walk into the house alone?

Falling to his knees, he desperately crawls over to your lifeless body, dark blood flowing from your wrists. 

As red as your dress.

He must be dreaming. This can’t be real. Surely, it can’t.

“No, no, no.” He drags your limp body into his arms. He can’t even pinpoint the moment his tears flow down his face. “Bonita, no. No. No. No.” The Spaniard cradles your colorless face into his hands. He gently taps your face a few times, but almost stops breathing himself when it only rolls back. Blood stains his white shirt. “Hey, hey.  C’mon, please. You want me to say it?” Hurriedly, he picks up your head as he kisses your lips over and over. He winces when he feels how chapped they’ve become.

“It doesn’t feel forced. I’m not saying it because I think it’s what you want to hear - I love you. I do. I love you as infinite as the ocean. I love the way you laugh, the way you trip over anything in your way, the way you say my name…I love you.” 

But he knew you weren’t listening. Not anymore. 

A piece of him died that day along with you. After that, life was a sickening blur. He’s out of it the moment he hears your father yelling out in agony or when Ollie screams at the gruesome scene. 

None of it mattered anymore.

[acourtofwhatthefuck]

Practice On Me — Part Thirteen — Azriel x Reader

Summary: Backstreet’s back, ALRIGHT! Or rather, the Bat Boys™️ sort their issues out. Tathaln’s ball is officially announced. Azriel gives Kaeda a piece of his mind. Fin has no business being the sexy dad he is. Roza’s worried about reader.

Word count: 6.3k.

Warnings: None for this part.

All is silent, save for the rhythmic tick-tick-ticking of the clock. Cassian has always hated that clock. Finds it fucking annoying.

But it fills the vacant hole that exists in the absence of conversation. That hole is open and gaping between Cassian and Azriel. It’s not a table that sits between them — it’s a dangerous, yawning chasm.

Az stares at Cass, and Cass feels uncomfortable. He’s seen that cold gaze be levelled on people hundreds of times, thousands. To be on the receiving end feels a little like staring death in the face. He actually kind of wishes that Kaeda hadn’t been sent off to the dorms to sleep off her drunken state, because at least then he wouldn’t be the only one here, being subjected to…this.

So, he stands up, so abruptly that his chair almost topples over, and asks, “Want me to make you some tea?” The question feels stupid the second it leaves his lips.

Azriel’s eyes track him, drink in every uneasy shift and twitch. It’s not that Cass is afraid of Az — though anybody with half a brain cell would be — just that he’s not good in these situations. Situations where he has to be serious and…and listen.

“Cassian.” The shadowsinger’s cold voice stops him before he can move. “When, in our years of friendship, have you ever once made me tea?”

Cass peers over a broad shoulder and shrugs half-heartedly. “First time for everything…”

“Sit.”

The word brooks no room for argument. Cassian does, indeed, sit.

It’s then that Azriel heaves a deep sigh, his entire body taut as a bowstring, and says, “I’m sorry.”

Cass blinks. “What?”

“I’m sorry—for what I did in the mead hall. I…had no right.”

“…But Y/N and I…”

“It’s not for me to dictate whether the two of you should or shouldn’t lie together. My…jealousy…is my problem, and mine alone.”

This is hard, Cassian realises — for Az to say this. For him to face it. And Cass can relate to that. Not everyone can be as silver-tongued as Rhysand. The Mother knows, Cass himself isn’t.

But he also isn’t an idiot. Some people may believe him to be, and that’s their mistake, because being proved wrong is usually the last thing they remember before waking up to a healer standing over them. He’s aware enough of his surroundings to know that something was brewing between Azriel and Y/N for years before Cass took her to bed…or kitchen counter, or…whatever.

“I need to be better,” Cassian offers, “at thinking before I act. Thinking about who I might hurt with my decisions. I’m working on it.”

Az studies his friend, and he feels no anger. If anything, it’s guilt that claws at the shadowsinger. He gave poor Cass a pretty good hiding over something that was, essentially, none of his business. And it could have all been different if Az simply wasn’t a coward, afraid of his feelings.

Something he needs to work on.

And perhaps he’s doing that as, rather than burying the topic, he asks, “What…what actually happened? How did you end up sleeping together? I mean…do you have feelings—”

“No.” Cassian cuts him off, blinking. “Gods, no. I love Y/N, you know that. But not romantically. I just…I felt so damn useless that night, Az. If you’d seen the way Y/N was…the self-loathing. I didn’t know how to help.”

Immediately, Azriel’s brow pinches. “Self-loathing?”

“Because of what her father did to her. When we were flying to Fenlaros, and she was the only one being carried in…”

Azriel slumps back in his chair, feeling like a godsdamned idiot.

He blinks forward and wonders what the fuck the point is in being born a shadowsinger when he obviously can’t read situations very well. Within seconds, it’s clicking into place.

“And then you started that fight with that Fenlarion male,” Cass continued. “and Kaeda just declared that it was her you were fighting over…and everyone has a limit, you know? I think that night was just all too much for Y/N. And she was so upset, so downtrodden…talking about how she hated herself. And I’m not good with words like Rhys is, and I’m not as observant as you are, but I am good at physical touch. Physical comfort. And it seemed like the only thing I could offer in that moment to take that bleakness away from her. But I should have thought about how you would feel—”

“I’m glad you were there for her.” Azriel blurts, realising, with every word, how much he means them. “I wasn’t. I failed her that night.”

“I really didn’t know that the two of you had been exploring things. If I did, I wouldn’t have done it. I mean…that fight you started wasn’t over Kaeda at all, was it?”

Az’s eyes shutter. And it goes against every natural instinct of his to strip himself bare and just…be honest. Every steel wall he’s ever built up is screeching in its effort to stand strong and not be caved in. And those walls were necessary in a life of darkness and hate…but that life is long gone.

What good do those walls do him in an environment where he has love, has people who genuinely care for him? As much as he wants to run and hide from his feelings as he always has…he thinks that the key to happiness may be on the other side of those walls. That a new bravery lays in letting some light filter through the cracks and warm a guarded heart.

His voice is quiet, laced with a self-preserving fear, as he admits, “No. It was not.”

Before Cassian can offer an encouraging response, the front door is swinging open, and Rhysand is kicking snow from his boots and trudging in. Azriel tenses like a threatened animal — but there is no threat here. Only safety, only love. He forces his shoulders to relax.

The violet-eyed male takes in the sight before him. Goes still as he looks between his two friends. “Please tell me this is a positive conversation.”

Cassian inclines his head. “Work in progress. Why don’t you make some tea?”

“Fuck you, make your own tea—”

“Make me some tea—”

“Kiss my ass, dickhole—”

“I’m in love with Y/N.” Azriel blurts.

It promptly shuts the other two males up.

They turn away from their bickering to look at the shadowsinger. He looks…shocked, by his own confession.

“I’m in love with her,” he breathes.

Cass and Rhys share a glance, and then Rhys is slowly approaching the table, carefully taking a seat like he doesn’t want to startle Azriel out of the moment.

“We know, Az.” Rhys tells him gently. “I mean…I think we always suspected…”

“I started that fight in Fenlaros because I was jealous of that damn male having his hands all over her. Saying the things he was saying. It was nothing to do with Kaeda.”

“You should really tell her — Y/N, I mean. Tell her how you feel.”

Azriel’s eyes trace a mark in the table as he admits, “Kind of already have. When she came to speak to me earlier today.”

Another glance is shared between Cassian and Rhys. And both are equally surprised — figure they would have heard something about it. Unless…unless it hadn’t gone down well.

And now that Rhys thinks about it, Y/N had been tense whilst he’d flown her back to Velaris. Taut in his arms and barely uttering a few words. Perhaps this was why.

“Did she…not take it well?” Rhys hedges. He wants to be delicate, not go blasting in at full-force. So rarely do they get to see such a vulnerable side to Az.

Azriel shakes his head once. “It’s not that, it’s…” He clears his throat. “It’s more complicated than that.”

“How?” Cass pushes, and Rhys shoots him a warning glance.

But Azriel doesn’t balk from it, doesn’t slink back in his seat. Instead, he lifts his head, and he levels his friends with a desperate look.

“There’s more that I haven’t told you.” He says.

✧: *✧･ﾟ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ

A short while later, Az thinks that maybe talking through his feelings is a good thing. Just saying the words has a little bit of weight easing from his chest, his shoulders.

But Cass and Rhys aren’t saying anything at all. Cass and Rhys are staring at him like he has two damn heads.

And then Cassian sits up, barking, “Tathaln Baralas wants what?”

“Exactly what I told you.” Azriel shakes his head. “He wants me to move to Fenlaros and work alongside him. Has some sort of backing from the High Lord, though I’m not sure how much. In a nutshell, Kaeda’s interest in me has always been driven by her father.”

“I knew that little wasp was up to something. You know she tried to kiss me tonight?”

Az shrugs. Really could not give a fuck. “I figured something had happened from the look on your face.”

“I never liked her. Nor her father—”

“Her father,” Rhys cuts in, “walks a very fine line in presuming to exceed in his role as a Camp Lord. His ego and title are going to his head a little, it would seem, if he believes he has the authority to scheme such ideas.”

“It’s a terrible idea.” Cass says. Neither of the other two noticed him get up, but he’s returning to his seat, speaking around a mouthful of food. “All Illyrians in one big camp? They’ll kill each other.”

Rhys is inclined to agree. But he turns a neutral — maybe gentle — expression on Az and asks him, “Do you want to go to Fenlaros?”

It would kill him if Az said yes. Would kill Cass, too. These recent days of being torn apart by tension has been bad enough. Being in different camps and not seeing each other is an almost unbearable thought.

But they would find a way to live with it, if Az decided he wanted to go. They’d find a way to be okay with it.

Such thick silence fills the room that the thudding of all three of their hearts is audible.

But then Azriel replies quietly, “No.”

Neither Rhys nor Cassian bother to hide their relief.

“I told Kaeda I would think about it.” Azriel goes on. “And I told Y/N that I’d promised Kaeda that. But I don’t think I’ve ever really intended to think about it — or needed to. I think…I think I was just using it to bide my time. To create space for myself and…avoid everything else.”

“By everything else,” Cassian chomps into a loaf of bread, “do you mean facing your feelings for Y/N?”

Azriel can’t deny it. He nods. “It’s not an easy thing to face…to be vulnerable. Hiding behind this Fenlaros situation has just been easier. Cowardly, yes, but…easier.”

“You can’t keep pushing her away, though, Az.” Rhys says. “You can’t let her think that you might be leaving if you have no intention of doing so.”

The shadowsinger’s eyes flutter shut, thick, dark lashes grazing his cheekbones. “Do you think I’ve fucked it beyond repair?”

“No.” Cassian offers. “But you will, if you don’t start handling this the right way. Tell Kaeda and Tathaln to fuck off. Tell Y/N you’re in love with her and want to see her naked—”

“Watch it.” Azriel warns quietly, but Cass continues, unperturbed.

“Just start letting more people in. And I’ll stop letting so many people in, because it gets me into trouble. I think…I think we all need to grow up a little. Do better.”

Rhysand’s brow pinches. “What do you mean, we all do? I’ve done nothing other than put my own pleasure aside to advise you idiots. What could I possibly need to do better?”

Cassian shrugs. “That haircut, for one. It’s annoying.”

“And when was the last time your hair saw a comb, Cassian?”

“When was the last time you were generous and made tea for your good, long-suffering friend?”

“So this is about the tea.”

“Of course it’s about the tea, jackass. Zakai clearly isn’t with you for your observational skills…”

Azriel sits back, allowing their bickering to become background noise. There’s a warmth to the sight, the sound, that makes him realise he never again wants a repeat of this situation — of being apart from his friends for days, tension thick between them.

He loves Rhys and Cassian. Loves them dearly.

Another reason why he could never, ever turn his back on this place.

And he finds himself actually being…grateful…that Cass was there for Y/N that night. That she didn’t have to suffer her self-loathing alone.

There’s still a lot to get through, of course. Daunting emotions and truths to face head-on. But as he watches the two loveable idiots in front of him take verbal swipes at each other, it’s the first time in a while that he wonders if things might actually be okay.

✧: *✧･ﾟ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ

The news is announced the next day, when Lord Devlon gathers a rather colourful bunch of his soldiers in the mead hall and stands at the front, silencing them all with a single shout. Rhys, Cassian and Azriel stand against the far back wall, their arms folded over their chests.

Gods, they hope it’s not another training exercise. Not so soon. Az has things he wants to resolve before he saunters off and possibly gets himself killed.

But Devlon reads the roll of parchment in his hands, a frown contorting his features. He looks up, his eyes very deliberately finding Rhysand as he announces to the room, “A message from the High Lord.”

And every other gaze is then swivelling to turn on Rhys, too. There’s something accusatory about it, like they’re assuming he’s privy to whatever it is their asses have been dragged out of bed to hear.

He isn’t. He wants to be in bed, too.

“Looks like you pricks better get your dancing shoes ready.” Devlon raises his eyebrows. “The High Lord is calling for a ball. Legions from all camps invited.”

This — this is exciting news for the brutish males who could fill the mead hall with their egos alone. Not because they have a particular affinity for dancing, but because amongst themselves, they’re already murmuring about which particular camps they dislike for some reason or other, and what they plan to do about it. So many bloodthirsty streaks are painted in those males’ eyes, stamping out the tiredness that lay there only moments before.

Nothing pricks an Illyrian male’s ears up quite like the prospect of a fight.

“The legions from each camp have been carefully selected, and you lucky fuckers will be representing Windhaven.” The Camp Lord continues, disdain dripping from his voice. He wants his men out there training in the cold, not prancing around a dance floor. “Plus-ones are allowed, also, so it might be time to splash out on a pretty gown for whoever is warming your bed these days. The ball is to be held on Starfall, at a neutral venue of the High Lord’s choosing, and I expect you all to make Windhaven — and me — look good. Any questions?”

“Do we actually have to dance?” One male asks, while another one pipes up with, “Will those pricks from Camp Steelshore be there?”

Rhys shuts out the litany of battling voices as he turns a concerned look on Az and Cass. Their expressions mirror his own. Something about this feels…off.

So while he looks like he’s merely lounging against the wall, hands in his pockets, he sends his inner claws spearing straight for Devlon’s mind. He doesn’t give away what he’s doing, not even slightly, as he roots around in the Camp Lord’s thoughts and grabs for his glimpse of the letter. Rhys scans it, drops the thought, and he’s out of Devlon’s mind and straightening himself up before the male can so much as flinch.

“Let’s go.” He tells his friends, and not Devlon nor the males around them seem to care as Azriel and Cassian follow him, the formidable trio traipsing out into the thawing snow, regardless of whether the meeting is over or not.

They’re halfway back to the house, safely out of earshot, when Cassian finally barks, “A ball? What the fuck?”

“At the request of Tathaln Baralas.” Rhys reveals. “That’s what the letter said. He took the idea to my father, and the asshole is humouring him. This has all got to be part of Tathaln’s plan.”

Cassian scowls and spits his disdain at the ground. “Someone needs to drive a poison arrow through that prick’s heart already. I don’t like this one bit.”

“It’s my father’s intentions I’m worried about.” Rhys shakes his head. “Tathaln only has the power that my father gives him. One word from him and this idea could be snuffed out and never mentioned again. And I expected that to be the case. Arrogant as fuck he may be, but my father isn’t stupid. He’ll know what a terrible idea this is, and I would have predicted that he’d laugh in Tathaln’s face for mentioning it. I didn’t think he’d actually entertain it…which means—”

“There’s something in it for him.” Azriel finishes.

Rhysand nods. “Every single move and choice my father makes is, ultimately, for his own gain. He would never agree to anything if he weren’t getting something out of it himself. Whatever Tathaln has proposed to him…my father will be using it for his own gain.”

Cassian opens the door to the cottage and strides in, forgetting — as always — to kick the snow from his boots. “What, though?” He asks. “What could Tathaln have that your father could want?”

Rhys shrugs and waves a hand, magic promptly mopping up the wet, melting trail left in Cassian’s wake. “That, I don’t know.”

“So what do we do?” Az watches him closely, trying to read the thoughts on the male’s face. His shadows reach out to him, too. “Are you going to talk to your father? Make him see how ridiculous this idea is?”

“No,” Rhys shakes his head. “There would be no point. I could lay a whole host of truths out to my father, and he’d go against them on ego alone. He must want something badly enough for him to be throwing money into it. This ball won’t be cheap.”

“And it won’t be a ball, either.” Cassian cocks an eyebrow. Roots through the kitchen cupboards for food. “Blood will be spilled. And you can’t dance on blood. I’ve tried. Too slippy.”

Rhys chooses to ignore that little scrap of information. Mostly because he doesn’t doubt it for a second. “I don’t want us to pre-empt anything.” He says. “If I go straight to my father with concerns about any of this, it could blow up in our faces, instead. For the time being, I think we should just…go along with it. Watch it play out, and see what happens. My father is unpredictable. Even I can’t tell you what goes on in his head.”

“I can speak with Kaeda.” Az clears his throat. “See if she’ll tell me anything.”

“You have fun with that.” Cassian mumbles, biting into something. “I’d sooner chop my balls off and nail them to the front door.”

“Such a way with words. It’s no wonder, really, that females fall at your feet.”

Cass shoots him a wicked grin. And this…this is nice. What they’ve both missed. This is normal.

“I’ll keep an eye and ear out for anything.” Rhys drags them back to the subject at hand. “But my father’s good at not letting anyone know things until he wants them to know them. And he’s clearly serious about this.”

Cassian swallows. Takes another bite. “And until then? Until we know what he’s even serious about?”

Violet eyes sparkle with mischief, and one side of Rhysand’s lips tips up. “Until then, boys,” he says, “you’d better practice your dancing.”

✧: *✧･ﾟ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ

Azriel really hopes she’s not there, but sure enough, when he enters his room at the dorms, Kaeda is sitting up in his bed.

It gives him a little bit of satisfaction to see her look…less than perfect, for once. Her hair is knotted, and even the vibrancy of the red shade seems a little dulled. Her skin is sallow, her eyes bleary. He wonders if she’s as miserable as she currently looks.

She beholds him with a strangely coy look, like she’s waiting for him to rip into her. But if she really knew the shadowsinger, she’d know that that is not his style. He does not shout. He rarely fights physically. His danger lies in his quiet voice and icy stare.

Kaeda’s tired eyes fall to the blanket pooled around her waist, and she murmurs, “You’re angry with me.” Her throat bobs with a swallow. “I understand. But I appreciate you putting me to sleep in here when I was in a vulnerable state.”

“I would have done it for anyone.” Az presses his back against the wall, folding his arms. “Don’t let it go to your head.”

The female merely bows her head. Doesn’t bother to argue.

“I have a question.” Azriel then says. “I’d like an answer.”

“I know that Cassian has probably told you about last night, and all I can say is I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have kissed him. I was drunk and upset and I—”

“I don’t care about that.” He really doesn’t, and it shows on his face. “I want to know what your father is playing at by organising an Illyrian ball. I don’t believe for a second that the gesture is an innocent one.”

She glances down again, but Azriel doesn’t buy the coy act for one moment.

“Kaeda.” His voice is laced with warning. “Tell me.”

“It’s just…a ball. A ball to have all camps in one place, so he can get a good look at what each one has to offer. It’s nothing sinister.”

“So, a chance for him to scout more supporters for his cause.”

“He’s trying to make a change, Azriel. A good one—”

“He’s interfering with lives. Tearing families apart.”

“Good results require difficult choices.” Her voice hardens.

The shadowsinger bites out a cold, brusque laugh, turning away from her. “Mother above, he has you trained well.”

There’s movement behind him. Kaeda is kicking the sheets away and pushing to her feet. And she’s…seething.

“You would laugh in the face of somebody trying to make a positive change?” She snaps. “What reason have you to be so arrogant? At least my father is trying to make a difference. All you’re doing is clinging to a miserable life in a miserable place where you don’t even have a family or home of your own—”

“Except that I do.” Azriel rounds on her so quickly that his wing knocks a fragrance bottle off a shelf. “I may not have your riches, and that’s fine, because I have a group of people — a family I made — who love me enough to care whether or not I come home at night. Who want nothing less for me than happiness and contentedness, and not just to use me as a pawn in some convoluted plan that will do more harm than good. I have reason to be in Windhaven, whether it’s miserable or not. I have love here. So much of it. And there’s nothing — not a damn thing — that would make me turn my back on it.”

Something in his impassioned speech clearly hits a nerve with Kaeda. She goes still.

And she looks…small, despite being fairly tall. She looks…insignificant.

Her eyes fill with tears. One spills over and rolls down her cheek as she whispers, “Please, Azriel.”

Azriel says nothing. Stares at her.

“Please.” She takes a step closer. “I’m not above begging. I…” Her voice cracks. “I need this. I need you to say yes—”

“Your father,” he interrupts quietly, “is playing a very dangerous game. And he’s using you to do it.”

“You don’t understand. I…if I can’t give him what he wants, I’m finished. I’ll have no home to go to, nobody on my side.”

“You already have nobody on your side. You’re his daughter and he’s dangling your livelihood over your head and ready to snatch it away if he doesn’t get what he wants. You’re already finished.”

“Please.” She says again. Tears are streaming, now, and she tries fruitlessly to wipe them away. “Please, just…if this is about Y/N—”

“Do not,” he grits out, “bring her into this.”

“She’s already in this. I know that you want her and not me…that you always have…and that’s fine. Bring her to Fenlaros with you, if you must. I’m sure my father could be persuaded on that. But just…please—”

“You’re not listening, Kaeda. This isn’t just about my family. It’s about all the other families that would be separated, ripped apart by your father’s scheming. He’s power hungry. This is just the beginning of a whole host of self-serving plans that will bring him glory — do not doubt that for a second. People like him are never satisfied, and he needs to be stopped. Not encouraged.”

“You’re wrong.” Her voice is so weak, Az isn’t convinced she believes her own words. “He just wants a better future for Illyria—”

“No.” Az levels her with a pointed look. “He wants a better future for himself. I will not play a part in that, and neither will my loved ones.”

“Azriel, please—”

“I will attend your father’s ball, just as Lord Devlon has ordered me to do.” He breezes to the door, not caring that this is his room he’s leaving her behind in. He stops, palm poised on the handle. “But as for delivering a male straight into your father’s den? You better start trying that seduction on somebody else. Because there is nothing that would make me follow you into that camp.”

He leaves without a glance back. And while it sits uncomfortably inside him that he made a female cry…he can’t help feeling like he’s finally doing the right thing.

About time, too.

✧: *✧･ﾟ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ

This — this is the last thing you ever would have expected of coming to Velaris.

The tonic you’d needed was an extended amount of girl time with Roza. And yet here you are…in the High Lord’s arms.

“This is useless.” You murmur, aware of every single place your body brushes against his. One of his hands is a firm weight on the small of your back, the other clasping yours. “I’m not a natural dancer. Fuck, I’ve never even been to a dance.”

Fin’s mouth tips up at the corners. “There’s that filthy mouth.” His hand lets go of yours, opting to move up to the cut of your jaw, where he allows his thumb to rest on your lower lip. “You,” the pad of it swipes slowly over your mouth, “are going to be exquisite.”

You square your shoulders. Cock a challenging eyebrow. “Is that genuine encouragement, High Lord? Or an order?”

A deep chuckle. Slowly — reluctantly —he lets his hand drop. “Both.”

Flirting with him like this, playing the part of the High Lord’s pet, is a necessary evil. You’re just so surprisingly good at it that you can’t discern whether it’s an affront to him, or to Roza. Or both.

But you can’t deny that you’ve been flattered by his undivided attention this past week. And perhaps he’s been flattered by yours, too.

Mother bless Roza for her undying support. The best you can do for her, right now, is to keep her in the loop. She merely tells you to be careful.

But a week — a week of cosying up to Fin, of breaking through his exterior and appealing yourself to him. You humour him with these dance lessons, with the preposterously expensive shopping trips and dinners, the late night fireside conversations. Anything, everything, to get him to tell you what truth lies behind the excited glint in his eyes whenever he speaks of the ball. To tell you what it is he’s planning.

Perhaps you’re not appealing enough. You are no more aware than anyone else. And that’s really fucking frustrating.

At least your hard work has kept you from thinking about Azriel every five minutes.

Your breath still heaving from your dance efforts, you make your way over to the table of refreshments by the huge, arcing windows that overlook the city. The High Lord’s palace, you have to admit, is a place you might miss once you’re back in Windhaven. You’ve never been one for luxury, never had more than a few things to your name — but the views are what makes you feel like the richest person in all of Prythian. These are not the cold, barren views of your camp, but a place of such vibrancy, it sometimes makes you want to cry. It’s like the setting of a storybook, laid out right before you.

From behind, slow, graceful footsteps sweep across the wooden floor. Fin comes to a stop so closely behind you that his body heat encases you.

Fingertips make contact with your skin, the back of your neck. The sleeveless tunic you wore for your practice now feels like nothing more than a paper towel.

“You have such beautiful skin.” Fin says roughly, and you tense. So far, this week, he’s kept a respectful distance away. Hasn’t put you in any awkward positions.

You pivot under his touch, pressing your back up against the table enough that his hand drops. It’s not entirely for show as you smile apologetically and tell him, “Sorry — scars.”

Such genuine, slicing rage fills his face. The intensity of it almost knocks you breathless.

“I will kill him.” He says the words like a lover’s promise. “With my bare hands, I will kill him for taking your wings.”

He had the power to stop the practice before you were even born. He is very old — over nine-hundred-years — and very powerful. What he says, goes.

And yet…he means it. You can see it. And perhaps you have seen so much unkindness, such brutality, that little scraps of ferocity, of passion, in your defence, make you a blinded fool.

But a part of him — however small — actually cares about you. Enough to mark your abuser for death.

But your father’s blood will soak your hands, and yours only.

You smile up at him, wickedly, cunningly, prettily. “No, you won’t.” You reply. “Because I will do it first.”

And the fury in his stare simmers immediately to a different sort of heat. Your words are a flirtation to him — a cut of raw meat dangled above a hungry, waiting animal. They make him feel something.

“Such a murderous little thing.” His soft laugh caresses your skin. He sounds pleased — impressed. “I like that. I like it a lot.”

“I would hope so. I am to be your special guest at the ball, after all.” A small voice in your head wants to coax him; tell me what you’re planning, tell me what to expect.

But, as always, he steers the conversation away, a vague, mysterious smile on his face. “Do you like it here in Velaris, my murderess?”

“I do, very much so.”

“I can’t help pondering how much you would thrive here. You were made for so much more than Windhaven. Illyria, even.”

A soft, coy smile — one that comes from deep within that part of you that wants the praise, the compliments — that needs them. “Many would disagree with you.”

“Show them to me, and I will twist their minds until they see in you what I do.”

“And what is it you see in me?” A disingenuous little liar. A good actress. A traitor.

Fin leans down, and for one startling, heart-stopping, stomach-lurching moment, you think his mouth might meet yours.

But his lips brush over your cheek in a tender, barely-there caress. He presses a kiss to the skin before retracting. Straightening himself out. The way he slides his hands into his pockets with casual arrogance reminds you so much of Rhys that you miss your friend instantaneously.

“I see beauty that is unappreciated, and intelligence that is underestimated.” Fin says. “And I see a female that I wouldn’t mind having at my side.” His eyes trace you from head to toe. “I wouldn’t mind it at all.”

No response sits on your tongue. You think you might be too surprised by the genuine praise. The fact that the High Lord actually feels some level of affection towards you.

Maybe you’re not so bad at these games.

He turns without waiting for your response, and only when he’s at the door does he make eye contact with you over his shoulder.

“Keep practicing the dancing, my murderess.” He says. “We’ll make a fine pair at that ball.”

✧: *✧･ﾟ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ

If Roza weren’t so worried, she might laugh at the three expressions of outrage that meet her when she strolls into the cottage.

Rhysand jumps up immediately and demands, “Did you fly here? You’re supposed to be resting.”

Roza merely rolls her eyes and shuts the door behind her. “Don’t get your undergarments in a bunch, Rhysand. I’m pregnant — not on my death bed. The babe is fine.”

Her son does not look convinced. Neither do Azriel or Cassian. As if they’re, like, experts on pregnancy, or something.

“What are you doing here, mother?” Rhys stalks straight to the fire and stokes it. Then straight over to the kitchen to make a hot drink. “Is everything alright?”

“Yes. Mostly.” Roza pauses. “I hope.”

Azriel sits up at that. “Is Y/N alright?”

“She’s fine.” If playing games with the High Lord of the Night Court can be considered fine. Roza eases herself into a seat, and Cassian is promptly propping cushions behind her back. “I want to talk to you about the ball.”

Cass’s lips turn up into a half-smile. “We’ll be on our best behaviour, Roz. Promise.”

“You’d better be. Because I want all three of you looking out for Y/N at that ball, do you hear me?”

The command is a firm one, and yet the three males don’t straighten up at her matriarchal tone like they usually do. Instead, they share a puzzled glance, frowns pinching their features.

“It’s a ball for Illyrian soldiers and their guests of choice.” Rhys explains, carrying a steaming mug over to her. “None of us are bringing her along. Not to that.”

“You may not be.” Roza slides a protective hand over her bump. “But your father is.”

All three males go so preternaturally still, it’s almost frightening.

Rhys bites out, quietly, “What?”

“Your father is taking Y/N to the ball as his special guest. He’s bought her a gown, taught her to dance — he’s serious about this.”

“He can’t.” The shadowsinger’s face is like rolling thunder. “He cannot take her there. All those males—”

“That’s precisely why I’m not attending. He needs someone in my place, and he’s taking Y/N.”

“He can choose someone else.” Azriel’s clipped tone, his panic, is not at all personal to Roza. Usually, he would never speak to her in such a way, but—

But this is Y/N they’re talking about. Y/N in the High Lord’s hands, at a ball with so many Illyrian males, too many Illyrian males.

“Watch your tone, Azriel.” Rhys warns, but Roza is holding up a hand. Because she gets it — the panic.

“I’ve tried telling him to take somebody, anybody, else.” She says. “He’s insistent — absolutely adamant that he wants Y/N.”

“But why?” Cassian frowns.

“I don’t know. I don’t know if his kindness to her is genuine or not.” She shakes her head, absentmindedly stroking her bump. “All I know is that he’s taking Y/N to that ball, and I’m not going to be there. You know, Rhysand, that there is no changing your father’s mind once it’s set. I need the three of you to look out for her.”

Because Y/N is just as much a daughter to Roza as the little girl growing in her belly. They know that.

Rhys inclines his head, reaching out to place a hand over Roza’s. “We will, mother.” He promises. “Whatever game he’s playing…we’ll look after Y/N.”

Roza’s eyes dart to Azriel, to Cassian. “Do you promise?”

“We promise.” Cassian, unfazed as always, grins. “You just focus on the little one, Roz.”

Azriel’s face is grave, but he nods once. “We won’t let her out of our sight.”

Y/N is in good hands with them, Roza knows. She may even be in good hands with Fin, depending on what his true intentions are. Perhaps being at the High Lord’s side is the safest place she can be. It’s an unknown.

But one thing Azriel does know, as he wishes and wishes for this damn ball to just be over already, is that he’s wracked with guilt.

He can’t help feeling like it’s his fault — that his actions, his behaviour, chased Y/N right into a viper’s den.

That he’ll stop at nothing to get her out of it.

pom tags: @dream-alittlebiggerdarling @sirenpearldust @queercodedcharacter @azriels-shadowsinger @ruler-of-hades @demi03 @magicaldragonlady @abrielletargaryen @ralsieq @v3lv3tf0x @achase2002 @feyretopia @hayrunnwr @don’t-feed-the-hipsters @brekkershadowsinger @piceous21 @bloodicka @acourtofinkandpapyrus @riri-is-agirlie @siriusement @4valyries @socmono @azriels-mate123 @acourtofbatboydreams @katherinearcheron @nesemi @lupinswolfsbanes @dreaming-unafraid @dxnniiix @cyrygher @liddyr03 @lmllsl @nightless @teenageeggscissorslawyer @brighterthanlonelythoughts @blitz-fall @maybefoxysouls @mschanand1erbong @juiceboxreads @bangtanbecks @florencemtrash @hyemishii @obixix @thenovarose @meshellexplosionmurder @angzlxna @lissy31xoxo-blog @supernatural99 @positivewitch @art3-m1ss @milfhunter-pdx @bbuckysbeardd @coralseacourt @towhateverend87 @sspookz @bird-on-the-wire33 @morrie-rose @megwan @catscanteleport @sevikas-whore @thickthighs-sadeyes @hihelloitsbooktimeppl

[bvidzsoo]

࿐ྂ The Games ࿐ྂ

࿐ྂ Synopsis: A dystopian future that is full of pain and anguish. A ruler who is merciless and rids of those who threaten his reign. A spark is all you need. A spark that will bring hope and salvage what's left of humanity.

° May the odds be ever in your favor. °

࿐ྂ Author: bvidzsoo

࿐ྂ Pairing: Ateez members x female reader

࿐ྂ Rating: mature, nc-17

࿐ྂ Genre: Hunger Games!au, violence, gore, angst with fluff

࿐ྂ Status: on-going ࿐ྂ

｡˚ ° ↷ 1. Song Mingi x female reader ↶ °｡˚

Haunted me, haunting you

╰┈➤ Summary: After the 72nd Hunger Games, Song Mingi wasn't the same. The spark in his eyes was gone, his once bright smile disappeared and his face became ashen, cheeks hollow, he was merely a shell of the man he once used to be. It hurt seeing him lose himself to the trauma he was forced to endure in the Arena, still haunted by memories...memories of killing someone you both cared about, someone who meant the world to you. Will you be able to help Mingi before it's too late? But most importantly, will Mingi be able to let you in when you bear the very same face he was forced to murder in the Arena in order to become a victor?

｡˚ ° ↷ 2. Choi San x female reader ↶ °｡˚

Your worst mistake...

╰┈➤ Summary: Your innocence was stripped the day you were reaped for the 73rd Hunger Games. The life you had known, and the joy of living well were all just forgotten aspirations. The Games were cruel and terrifying, and they changed anyone who emerged as a victor, who took the crown and returned to the living. And was all that pain, terror, and haunting memories worth it? Was it worth living a life as a monster? Perhaps, yes, it was, if a man was determined enough to show you what tenderness and love meant, that to him you had never changed. But that man was Choi San, a stylist from the Capitol, another gem adored by the masses, so, could he really love you?

｡˚ ° ↷ 3. Jeong Yunho x female reader ↶ °｡˚

Thousand Miles, just to get you back

╰┈➤ Summary: You didn't want this, but then again, you were sure nobody wanted to face the repercussions of being a victor. You hated your life and you hated everyone around you, never trusting a soul again. Whatever President Snow has put you through after your Games was unforgivable and your only solace lay in Finnick Odair, who understood you and your pain. But it didn't end there, no, it never would with Jeong Yunho, another victor, always breathing down your neck and hogging you as if his life depended on it. You didn't like him and you didn't trust him after what he'd done to you despite being your mentor in your Games. And when the 75th Hunger Games come around and President Snow announces that the tributes this year will be the reaped victors, your world comes crashing down, forcing you to do things you never thought you'd do again. But if it meant Panem would be free, you'd do it again.

｡˚ ° ↷ 4. Kim Hongjoong x female reader ↶ °｡˚

Cravin', I'm cravin', I crave you

╰┈➤ Summary: Being in love with your childhood best friend was hard, especially when your feelings weren't reciprocated. Kim Hongjoong, barely a few years older than you, certainly lived a better life. He was a well-known, sought-after, and praised stylist in the Capitol, his creations renovative after the Civil War the Districts unleashed on Panem, against the Capitol . And you, well, you were still studying at the Academy, trying to figure life out and become someone on your own and not due to your parents' wealth and importance. You figured Hongjoong would pay more attention to you when you had finally decided to become a fashion magazine editor, but, no, it only seemed like that drew him closer to Tigris, the person you hated the most. Will you allow her to steal the love of your life? No, never, only over your dead body.

A/N: I was never supposed to turn this into a mini-series of sorts, but alas, here we are! Since four of our boys are getting their own oneshot's, I decided to make a collective masterlist for them, and who knows, maybe I'll add more members to it if a good enough idea comes across my mind. Tbh, I don't exactly want to start a taglist for this mini-series, but I suppose if there's a high demand then I might just. I might change the summaries for San, Yunho, and Hongjoong since their stories aren't written yet and I was going off based on their plots, but I'll see. All of these titles were inspired by songs, and maybe you should listen to Tove Lo's Thousand Miles if you haven't before because that shit was my jam in high school and I nearly collapsed while listening to it again lmao. I have nothing else much to say, except that I might post San's part around Sunday, and if not, then at the start of next week, hopefully. If you're as big of a Hunger Games fan as I am, I hope you enjoy these stories and ignore some inaccuracies, thank uu! See u around <3 divider1 divider2

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❀ complete the forms if you're interested! ^^

[jayden-killer]

Greediest man in the Stone World.

summary: you've just being awaken by your old friend and classmate, Senku, in a whole new human era. But, who's this young guy claiming you as his? a/n: waahh, i sincerly apologise if i disappeared...again. i literally forgot my tumblr writing page, and life took a.. strange turn of events(?) kinda. i hope this first ryusui one shot will make me forgive!!!

☆

Dark. And then... a golden beam of light passed through my eyes, blinding me. My muscles began to melt. I felt them sore, as if I had slept in an uncomfortable position all night. Or maybe, for three thousand and fifty years. This was what was brought back to me when I woke up from that sleep I thought was eternal. The first thing my eyes noticed when they hatched was a blinding sun. There was so much green. So much vegetation was not seen even in the well-preserved jungles. Then, a group of boys with familiar and unfamiliar faces. My eyes met his.

"Senku..?"

I uttered that name in a subtle tone of voice, and the boy did nothing but address to me that mischievous grin of his own.

"Yoh, Y/N...we need your help".

[ Time skip...(*ゝω・)ﾉ ]

"So... you need my dexterity in putting these little pieces together so you can build, um... Repeat it, thank you".

"An oxygen tank" Senku rest, without even thinking of getting that smirk off his face.

His attitude hadn’t disappeared after 3,700 years. Not even when he claimed in front of a professor that their speeches were meaningless.

Here we go again...

Between a sigh and the other I immediately set to work, while in the distance I heard Senku arguing with what seemed to be his colleague.

Just in the middle of my work I felt someone touching my shoulder gently. A delicate touch, like that of a…

"Child?"

The girl in question wore a watermelon helmet on her head, with lenses inserted in the two holes that created a space for the eyes. She made a sound of wonder, her hands to her mouth.

"So, you are new here!"

With a confused look I lowered myself to her level, able to have a face-to-face conversation with the little creature. " I suppose so..? And you are...?" That little girl who didn’t immediately show her intentions and courage was pretty to say the least.

"Suika wanted to welcome you to the Science Team!" she said clearly, now showing me her hand to shake her. I took her, and with a kind smile, I accepted her request. "How kind of you! Since I am now a new addition to your team, can I have the honor to meet my future colleagues and companions?"

Little Suika nodded happily, running in the opposite direction where I was working. Heck. Maybe it was me who was no longer a child like her, but Suika seemed really fast in the race, not giving me a chance to keep up. I didn’t know where she was taking me; we passed through several huts, erected on wooden structures, running as if someone was after us.

The only one chasing her was me. Looking back to see if we’d actually drifted apart, my foot tripped on a double-sized rock. The collision with the stone made me lose my balance; I was ready to crash on the dirty ground and have some bruises all over my face for a few days. Only that never happened. In the instant that I was about to feel my face against the damp soil, two arms wrapped my waists not too strong, but with determination, preventing me from slipping a second time. I didn’t even realize I closed my eyes.

"It’s not even the first day you’re back here on Earth, and you were destined to get hurt. Pff, not very convenient for our team, huh?"

A moment later my eyes sprang to meet his, and those eyes reminded me of an autumn now close to winter. " Well, lady killer, now you might as well put me down. I’m not meant to be your princess." I said authoritatively. His powerful arms let go of my body, and with a little thump my butt bounced off the ground.

What an idiot!

Not only was he now laughing at me with a fat laugh, as if I had just said the funniest joke on Earth, but he didn’t even deign to preseed himself! The blond slightly lowered his head, as I was still on the ground, and with an energetic voice he replied:

"Not yet", later going in the opposite direction, with firm step. Oh, what kind of weird I had in front…

˗ˏˋ ♡ ˎˊ˗

"Become mine! With all my Drago you would become the luckiest woman in the world!"

Somebody kill me...

It had been two months since I had made my unexpected (better to say, unlucky) acquaintance with blondie, who had the name of Ryusui Nanami. With his egocentrism and sheer avarice, he had proved to be one of the most promising members of the Kingdom of Science so far, with great skills for navigation. Apparently he came from one of the wealthiest families in Japan, and he certainly had not lost the habit of being indulged in everything, even after 3,500 years. And since our first meeting, he hasn’t stopped trying once. On every occasion he would give me his flirtations comments (sometimes shabby), he would become handsy, or he would try to buy me with his stupid Drago.

I was not one of those women who was so easily deceived, especially if a situation was about money. He thought I would give in so easily. I was so determined to prove to him the opposite, during these months, that this would give him up. With a gesture of the hand, I pushed him away. " I’m sorry, Ryusui. As I’ve explained many times before, I’m not interested." I took a dramatic break. ".. to you."

He whined loudly like a little baby, fogetting his money behind to get close to me. "You’re making a mistake!"

"I have made many mistakes in my life," I answered sharply.

"Then add another to your long list." I nailed him down with my sharp look, sketching a tight smile. Nothing to do. That man would never wave the white flag in the sky. However, it was becoming a nuisance, and having it close to me like a fin was starting to run out. For the worse.

I had only one idea that could have saved me in that instant, from a near future in which he was no longer clinging to me like an octopus: make him believe he had a chance with me. A bold idea; nevertheless, it had to be tried. Either it will make it or break it.

"Maybe, in the future, you might have a chance…" I implied in a vague tone, already heading somewhere, any, to get him off my back. I could swear to see his eyes shining remarkably with hope, and a new fire, fueled by determination.

He snapped his fingers, his iconic gesture that everyone, by now, had learned to recognize, and if he did, it was because he decided to do something. There were no roads back.

"HA-HA!" His laughter seemed to flow throughout the Ishigami village. Even Senku and Chrome turned to us, with confused scowls, to see what was so funny at the time. But Ryusui found nothing amusing in this situation, except a challenge to complete.

"So be it! I’ll show you how much I’m willing to change your mind. Anything to get the chance to become yours!"

Though I did not turn to look at him, once again, his muscular arms clasped my waists, turning my body to meet his. Face to face. "You, damned Nanami, what do you want now?!" That gesture had taken me by surprise, because he was not used to come so near me, but with his cheeky smile, he kissed me on both the cheeks. A quick gesture that made me blush remarkably in my face, almost to feel it burn under the palms of my hands.

"What the f...?!"

"You don’t know it, but you’re already mine!"

[writerswall26]

My Sweet Cairo (Part 2)

Synopsis: The Ravens' Soccer team Captain fell in love for Cairo Sweet

Warning: Slight cursing, Student-Teacher relations. Other than that, none that I know of (but feel free to correct me)

Words: 1.7k

Masterlist | Previous Part | Next Part

A/N: Thank you for the warm welcome. But I think confusion would start here before the good climax. Happy Reading!

"Before we start our lesson, we want to congratulate our soccer team’s captain for winning us the semi finals last saturday night." Mr. Miller told the class where they cheered and whistled. Y/N smiling humbly while she saw Cairo clapping with them, a warm smile on her face.

"Told yah we'll bring home the championship this year." Y/N told Mr. Miller who laughed.

"I do hope so. Alright, let's continue!" He clapped and proceeded with their class.

Despite Cairo just sitting prettily in the front row, Y/N did not mind her as she was so engrossed with their lesson.

After their class, Y/N waited for Cairo outside of class patiently and she was out in minutes with Winnie.

"What do you want now, superstar?" Winnie asked in playful annoyance, rolling her eyes.

Y/N rolled her eyes as well. "I'm not here for you, miss creepy girl. I'm here for her." Y/N said, turning to Cairo with a sweet smile.

"To what do I owe you, superstar?" Cairo teased which made Y/N groan as she leaned her head back.

"See what you did there?" She turned to Winnie who raised her hands in surrender which Cairo giggled.

"What is it?" Cairo finally asked, curiously.

"Would you want to have dinner with me? Saturday night?" Y/N asked, fidgeting on the strap of her duffel bag.

"Are you asking me on a date?" The smile on Cairo's face never left.

Y/N shrugged. "If you want to call it that, I'm not complaining." She smiled.

Winnie and Cairo gave each other a look before the shorter girl turned to her.

"I'd take you up on it, but I got something going on saturday, I'm sorry." And that, my friend, hurts like a fucking bitch.

Y/N nodded, her face faltering at the rejection. But she still managed to smile and nodded.

"I see. It's okay." She said, starting to walk back slowly. "I'll see you around, then."

She was not feeling herself after that but she saw this coming as well. It's reaching to say that Cairo's gonna accept immediately after just a small interaction and one game.

"What's with the long face, sweetheart?" Jasmine asked as soon as she sat down in their physics class.

Y/N gave her a small smile as she shook her head, getting the rejection out of her head. "Nothing, just feeling a little under the weather." She said and said nothing more.

She was bummed out until saturday and her mother noticed it.

"What's wrong, darling? You've been looking a little down lately." Y/M/N, her mum, said while putting the lasagna on the table.

Y/N smiled at her mum. "Nothing. Just tired." She said before she stood up.

"Where are you going? We're gonna have lunch soon." Her mother called her but she just continued walking.

"I'm gonna take a breather. Don't wait up. Love you." She said before she took her bike and went for a small ride.

She was feeling the breeze and all that when the rain started pouring.

"Goodness gracious!" She muttered as she went faster to find a place to shelter on. And she did, on a big tree in front of Vanderbilt. She was drying herself up when her gaze fell on two particular people on the porch of the place.

"What the fuck?" She muttered to herself, it's Cairo and Mr. Miller, close to each other, smoking.

Her mind was running a thousand times over. What the fuck is Mr. Miller doing with Cairo outside of class? But then again, both of them are writers, it's a poetry place. She stared for a long time, watching and waiting and praying for nothing to happen. And when nothing did, she let out a small sigh.

She shook her head to get back to her senses before she rode her bike again. An anger about to blow inside her and the more she stays, the more it bubbles. She can't have that. So, she rode, fast on the rough wet road.

"Fuck!" She screamed over and over and over again until her tires bumped into something, causing her to lose her balance and be thrown off her bike a couple of feet away, her body slamming on the rough road causing a few nasty scratches in her left arm and a bump on her head.

She laid there, breathing heavily as she tried to feel her body, her legs, her arms. Thankfully, she's still functioning. So she pushed herself up, groaning as she limped to her bike, she checked on it first and was thankful that it was not wrecked. She sighed before she got on her bike and pushed through despite her entire body aching from the impact.

When she got home, her mum immediately rushed to her, checking her up from head to toe before leading her to the living room couch to sit.

"What happened to you, darling?" Her mum asked worriedly as she got a baskin of hot water and her medical kit.

"Didn't see a rock on the way." She answered quietly as her mother started tending to her.

"Was it pouring hard? You should've taken shelter and waited for it to stop." Her mum said softly while cleaning her scratches on her arm and face.

The two of them were silent while her mum's patching her up. After she was done, she kissed Y/N's forehead and fixed the things she used.

"Go get changed before we have our dinner." Y/M/N said, she did what she was asked to.

Y/N walked up to her room, threw her clothes in the laundry basket and changed. The image in her head was not leaving but she soon blocked it out when her mother called her for dinner.

"The finals is a week away. You should take care of your body if you want to win." Y/M/N told her gently while giving her a portion of her food.

Y/N smiled softly. "I know. I was being reckless, I'm sorry I made you worry."

Y/M/N smiled, patting her hand gently before they started their dinner together.

"Will you be able to watch?" Y/N asked in the middle of their dinner.

Y/M/N grinned beautifully. "Of course. I've already told the hospital I'm taking a leave to watch my wonderful daughter crush the opposing team and win that championship cup!"

Y/N chuckled at her mum's enthusiasm. "That's over reaching, mother." She says but her mum shook her head.

"This is your final game before university and you will, for sure, by no means, win the cup. And I'm so so proud of you."

Y/N's heart warmed at her mother's proud smile. She's been talking non-stop about this championship and how it's gonna look on her university portfolio, so her mother wanted her to do her best to win this championship this season.

On monday when she got to her English class, worried looks were thrown her way when they saw her wounds and the scratch on her face. Even Winnie did not give her the usual flirty attitude she usually gives whenever she sat down beside her.

"What happened to you?" Winnie asked worriedly, checking her up.

Y/N shrugged. "Just some scratches here and there."

"You have an entire bandage on your arm, Y/N. Not to mention, that thing on your face. That's not some scratch." Winnie said, concern laced in her voice.

Y/N gave her a smirk. "You worried now, sweetheart?" She tried but Winnie did not smile one bit.

Y/N sighed and faced her to show her the bandage. "Look, I fell off my bike, okay? But I'm perfectly fine now. My mum made sure of that the entire weekend." She assured the girl.

Winnie stayed quiet for a moment before she nodded. "Sure you're okay though? No broken bones or something?"

Y/N chuckled. Winnie can be adorable when she wants to.

"I'm perfectly fine. No broken bones or something." She assured Winnie who nodded with a smile.

Their class starts with Mr. Miller introducing another quote from a book and they're to make their own interpretation of it and present it in their next class.

After their class, Y/N immediately fixed her things hoping to run away from a certain brunette girl which she failed miserably as she was already in front of Y/N before the taller girl even had the chance to step out.

"What happened to you?" Cairo asked, her voice gentle and worried.

Usually, Y/N would smile and be all giddy but after what she saw last saturday, it's like all the happiness in the world had vanished.

"I fell off my bike. Excuse me." Y/N said, pushing past Cairo who followed her outside.

"Are you really going to be like this?" She heard Cairo saying from behind her.

Y/N groaned, letting her head fall back before she turned to look at the smaller girl. Winnie's even worried while watching.

"Like what, Cairo?" She asked, annoyance evident in her voice.

"This." Cairo said, pointing a hand at her as she walks in front of Y/N. "Are you really going to ignore me? What? Because I said no to you last saturday?"

Y/N's ears tinged at what was being accused of her. She wanted to burst out and say she saw her and Mr. Miller at Vanderbilt together, close and inappropriate. But she refrained herself, taking a deep breath to calm her nerves down.

"I'm not avoiding you. I have physics. And why do I care if you're out somewhere with God knows who? I'm not expecting you to say yes just because we had a small interaction and you watched one of my games. I'm not that shallow." Y/N's voice was restrained, her face red from trying to calm down.

Cairo was shocked to see this. She was not expecting Y/N to have a side like this. The few times she's seen this girl, she's always smiling and laughing. Never this angry.

"Look, I'm sorry, okay? Let me make it up to you. Come by to my place, let's have dinner tonight." Cairo said, holding a hand to Y/N's chest and caressing it gently. Her big brown eyes are soft and apologetic.

Y/N stared at her for a moment before she sighed, bowing her head to calm before she gave out a small smile.

"Forget it." Y/N said as she stepped back, letting Cairo's hand fall on her side with a pained look.

"Finals on Saturday night, Winnie. Hope to see you there." Y/N said before she walked back and went to her physics class, not bothering to throw Cairo another glance.

[val-made-a-mistake]

Hello! I was hoping I could request one where the reader is Eddie's sister and she gets hurt by someone who is looking for Eddie/Venom and they save her. Thank you very much! Have a great day!

sometimes the simple concepts are the ones that are the most fun to write. thank you for this request - i had a blast writing it! hope you enjoy! word count: 1k warnings: well, a hostage situation, so descriptions of blood and knives and venom's signature decapitation method.

- Eddie’s phone buzzed in his pocket, pulling him out of his late-night walk across the city. It was the most he could do when Venom was begging for flesh to gobble all the time, after all. Damage control.

He didn’t need to look at the caller ID - it was yours, the one he’d set as a joke years ago, that dumb banjo that you hated. He answered it immediately.

“Yeah, kid?” he greeted, glancing down the empty street.

A breathless whisper hit him through the phone, more chilling than any shout. “Eddie... someone’s—”

His chest went tight. “Y/N, what’s going on?”

A pause, and then your voice came again, thick with fear. “I'm at a warehouse. The one by the pier - they - they want you.” "Make it quick," someone else further away from the phone - whose voice he didn't recognize - snapped.

And then a click.

Eddie’s hand tightened around the phone, knuckles whitening. What the fuck? Venom’s voice was already prickling in his mind, a low growl bleeding into his own thoughts.

IF THEY HURT HER, WE’LL TEAR THEM TO SHREDS.

“No,” Eddie snapped before he really considered it, his hands shaking - that would only lead to more trouble, and he certainly didn't need more of that right now. The panic washing over him was making it hard to think. What the fuck was going on? Who wanted him? How did they know who you were? “Just - just - let's get her out of there first. Ask questions later." 

It didn't matter what he said: Venom was already stirring beneath his skin, cold as ever, more than ready for a fight. WE NEED TO GO. The dark tendrils slithered over Eddie’s shoulders, wrapping him in slimy, glistening armour as he broke into a sprint down the street, faster than human, closer to monstrous.

-

The warehouse was cold and dark, and it smelled musty - mold was clearly growing from somewhere, making you wrinkle your nose. You hadn’t meant to end up here, of course - just on your way back from work, cutting through the alleys to save a few minutes.

It took one dude twice your size, and, well, now you were stuck here.

“You’re Eddie Brock’s sister, aren’t you?” the man in front of you asked, his voice reminding you of grease and slime and a thousand unpleasant things.

You straightened as best you could while you were tied to the chair, heart pounding. “So what if I am?”

The man stepped closer, enough that you could smell the sharp tang of metal on him. “Your brother’s got something we want. I think you’re just the leverage we need.”

“You know, I didn’t ask to be bait today,” you muttered, hoping to mask the fear creeping up your spine. 

He sneered, stepping forward. “Good thing it’s not your choice.”

The man’s fingers dug into your collar, a glint of metal catching the moonlight as he pulled a knife from his jacket, holding it just below your chin. 

“Your brother’s got something we want,” he repeated. “He and that…thing he hides.”

Your stomach dropped. Of course, he meant Venom.

Fuck, fuck, fuck - not this again. You did not want to get dragged into this. Why was Eddie always getting pulled into something? He'd promised you he would be safer.

You glared at him despite the threat looming, summoning the last of your defiance. “What, you think Eddie’s just going to hand himself over to you?”

The man laughed, cold and humourless. “Not willingly. But with the right motivation...”

You couldn’t help but gasp as the cold metal of the knife met your cheek, the sharp edge piercing the tender skin there. You felt the sting of it instantly, the warm, wet blood running down the side of your quivering face, your neck, and you couldn’t appear confident anymore: your heart was hammering into overdrive. You were panicking, now.

Please, please, please Eddie. Come quickly.

The knife returned to its previous place under your chin, and the man grinned, an evil gleam in his eye. He could tell you were afraid, and he had that leverage over you.

“Let’s wait for him, shall we?”

-

By the time they reached the warehouse, Eddie was no longer against ripping someone's head off. The sight of you that haunted him the whole way there, injured and backed against the cold concrete, hurt and it was his fault, sent a surge of fury and fear through him so strong it nearly brought Venom to the surface in full force.

THEY WILL PAY, Venom hissed, and this time, Eddie didn’t hold him back.

"Do your thing, V," he whispered breathlessly before the symbiote enveloped him in his horrifying, gargantuan entirety.

CRAAAAASH!

The door shattered as they broke through, tendrils snapping and slicing, ripping through everything and swallowing your captor's head whole, making a bloodbath of the scene.

Before long, Venom stood before you, the symbiote's hulking form towering over you. He surveyed your injuries: your face was slashed open and blood was steadily trickling down your cheek, but besides from the fact that your chest was heaving in terror, you looked okay.

I THINK SHE IS OKAY, EDDIE, he said softly.

You met Venom's gaze the best you could when he was several feet taller than you: you knew Eddie was in there, somewhere. “Guess you brought backup, huh?” you asked, a shaky attempt at calm, even though you obviously weren't.

Venom’s eyes glinted, the sharp, unsettling smile softening.

NO ONE HURTS YOU, he growled. THEY WILL KNOW THAT NOW.

Eddie’s familiar face reappeared through the black goop, the dark tendrils receding, but his eyes still looked worried. He reached out to free you from your bonds, his voice soft but shaking.

“You okay?” he asked, his hand squeezing your shoulder.

You nodded, managing a half-smile despite the pain radiating through your ribs. "I'm okay."

Venom’s face formed beside Eddie’s, his gigantic milky eyes narrowing as he stared down at you.

WE WILL DESTROY ANYONE WHO HURTS YOU, he rumbled, his endless rows of teeth stretched in a smile, clearly proud of himself.

For the first time, you laughed, breathless and grateful. "Now," you said, glancing over at the headless body leaking blood that had been tossed in the corner during Venom's rampage, "Do either of you know what the fuck is going on?"

[luvymelody]

NAME : karasuno team , haikyuu!!

SONG : old love , yuji + putri dahlia

SUMMARY : the second years have been complaining about finding suitable jobs for themselves. so ukai says that everyone can take turns working at his store for experience in a retail job. who knew that someone would be coming daily? wc : 1.8k

y/n slipped her shoes on, putting their hat on their hat just above her eyebrows as she zipped up her jacket.

“can you get me that one ice cream!”

her brother yelled from his room, popping his head from his door to look at the girl who was about to leave the house.

“don’t get your brother that ice cream! eating ice cream this late will get you sick!”

“ma please!”

y/n left the house, shutting the door behind her as the last thing she heard was her brother pleading their mother for ice cream.

y/n originally was gonna go buy food from the convenience store a few streets down, but she took a small shortcut to it, finding a new convenience store she’s never seen before.

‘ohh maybe i should start going here..’

y/n thought in her head, walking inside the store as she looked at the cashier. he looked about her age, orange hair, doing his homework at the counter, there was also another one, a blonde wearing glasses while he pointed at the paper.

the orange haired boy looked up, hearing the door open and stood up from his chair and greeted the girl. the blonde boy just looked up, nodding his head at her.

“hello!”

“hi..”

y/n smiled at the boy, then put her head down, turning to look around the store to see if there’s that one ice cream her brother liked.

she lifted her hat up a little bit to gather food, holding it in her hands. she got an instant bowl of ramen, onigiri, ice cream for her and her brother and two drinks.

y/n went up to the counter, the boy was doing his homework while the blondie was stood up, pushing the smaller boy away from the front of the register.

“is that all for today?”

“yeah. thank you.”

y/n thanked, nodding her head as she opened her hand bag, trying to find her wallet. the blonde boy looked up at the girl’s hat, admiring her white hat, it was a brand he liked.

“nice hat.”

“thanks- how much?”

“2,910 yen.”

y/n handed him three thousand yen bills and waited for her change, her eyes trailing down to the smaller boy and his worksheet.

“the answer’s 7.”

she said, looking up at his face as he stared up at her in amazement.

“sorry-”

“really?! ha! she figured it out before you, stingyshima!”

“hah? what did you call me?”

“stingyshima! sorry, can you explain it to me?”

y/n blinked as the orange haired boy looked at the girl as the blonde haired boy glared at the small one, then started to bag her food.

"oh, sure. so-"

y/n explained it to him, the cashier placed her bag of food on the counter infront of her, looking between the two as he also started listening, understanding the problem.

"wahh! you're so smart! i'm shoyo hinata!"

"i'm y/n l/n, you are?"

y/n looked up at the other boy, who grumbled then introduced himself.

"kei tsukishima."

"it's nice to meet you-"

a buzzing was heard in y/n's pocket, y/n took it out, placing it against her ear.

"moshi moshi? sorry, it was really nice to meet you!"

y/n greeted the person in her phone, grabbing the bag and waving to tsukishima and hinata as hinata waved back excited, while tsukishima nodded at her. she exited the store, disappearing out of their sight.

"yeah, i'm coming. no i went to another store-"

-

the next day, it was practice, so the boys started changing in the club room, hinata was struggling to take his shirt off, tsukishima making fun of him as he laughed at pointed.

“hey hey! tsukishima, hinata, how was work?”

tanaka exclaimed, an arm over both of their shoulders once hinata finally took his shirt off.

“easy.”

“so good! we also saw this pretty girl- so pretty- hurts my soul.”

“well, there’s no one prettier than our goddess, kiyoko!”

“no dude..”

hinata said, then leaning in.

“she’s on par with kiyoko.. so pretty, i’m not joking!”

tanaka raised his eyebrow dramatically, tsukishima shrugging his arm off his shoulder and putting his shirt on. tanaka whipped his head to tsukishima.

“was the girl you saw… pretty?”

tanaka paused for a second, leaning into tsukishima closer so tsukishima got frightened, taking a step back.

“i don’t know?”

“ugh! you were probably going crazy, hinata!”

“what’s going on?”

nishinoya said, walking into the club room being a little late.

“can you believe that hinata thinks he saw a girl prettier than kiyoko?”

“what?!”

nishinoya exclaimed, dropping his bag and chasing hinata around the room until daichi grabbed them by the collars and forced them to run laps.

-

“no! bakayama- she was sooo pretty! tell me if you see her!”

hinata whined, standing infront of the counter which kageyama was behind. kageyama’s arms were crossed and hinata’s hand were on his hips.

“no.”

“whyyy?”

hinata glared, tsukishima walked up behind him after getting food from the store with yamaguchi, then hitting hinata on the back of the head then.

“ow!”

“let’s go, pipsqueak.”

that night, kageyama and sugawara were working together. coach ukai thought that kageyama would scare customers off, so sugawara could be a face that people could rely on.

“let’s work hard, kageyama!”

sugawara said determined, his fists in the air clenched in determination while kageyama matched him.

“hai.”

-

“get me this again?”

y/n’s brother asked, his hands clasped together as y/n narrowed her eyes at her brother.

“get it yourself.”

“nooo! come on, y/n!”

“you go!”

y/n turned around, starting to walk back to here room, then her brother called out in hurry,

“i’ll give you money-“

suddenly, y/n was infront if her brother, hand stretched out waiting.

-

y/n entered the shop, seeing only one person at the counter, a black haired boy who nodded his head at her.

‘like tsukishima?’

y/n thought, then turning to find the onigiri.

for some reason, they had moved it to the top shelf when literally yesterday night it was at the midsection. y/n grimaced, stretching her arm up to try a grab a hold of the onigiri. on her tippy toes, she reached high as she held the shelf near her head for balance.

‘who the hell put it so high-?’

then, a hand went up, grabbing the onigiri and being held infront of her. y/n went flat on her feet, following the arm to the person right behind her.

“is this the one you wanted?”

he asked politely, y/n blinked, then grabbing the onigiri out of his hands.

“oh yeah, thank you..”

‘is this the pretty girl hinata was talking about? she is pretty..’

the grey haired boy thought, smiling at y/n.

-

“she was wearing a black hoodie, a white hat- wait what’s the name.. tsukishima! what was the brand?!”

“(insert random brand).”

“yeah! and she had h/c coloured hair. so pretty!”

“shut up about that girl!”

“why are you so rude, bakayama!?”

-

"is there anything else you need help with?"

the grey haired boy asked, gesturing to the top shelves that y/n couldn't reach. y/n nervously smiled, covering her mouth in embarrassment.

"could you also, get the one next to it?"

y/n pointed up as the boy looked up, picking it and holding it for the girl.

"i'll bring these to the front counter."

he smiled, bowed and walked away as y/n quickly followed, placing her things down on the counter infront of the two boys.

"you scan everything and tell her the price after, kageyama."

the grey haired one muttered to the boy as 'kageyama' nodded quickly, sliding them to the other as he bagged everything. y/n didn't hear, looking around the store to avoid awkwardly stnaidng there and waiting.

"that'll be- 1,922 yen."

kageyama said stiffly, but y/n just nodded, picking money out of her wallet.

"see! you're a natural."

the grey haired boy whispered to kageyama, bumping his shoulder as kageyama was surprised, holding his shoulder as the other slid the bag infront of the girl as she handed kageyama two thousand yen bills.

y/n waited for a change, even though it only took a few seconds, y/n could swear she saw the black haired kid before, something was familiar about him.

"thank you."

y/n thanked, bowing and grabbing the bag and leaving the store.

"success!"

sugawara cheered, his hands in the air as kageyama nodded, lifting his arm slightly up to his chest.

-

"so, so?! did you see her!?"

hinata exclaimed, jumping and his hands smacking down on kageyama's shoulders as tsukishima, yamaguchi, sugawara, tanaka walked into the gym, waiting for the rest of the team.

"ow! boke- hinata!"

"the h/c haired girl?"

sugawara questioned, bouncing a ball on the floor to warm up,

"yeah!"

"oh, yeah we did. you're right, she was pretty cute."

"see tanaka-senpai!?"

hinata shouted, pointing at his upperclassmen, still a little petty about getting a beating from nishinoya and tanaka.

"until i see her with my own two eyes, kiyoko is my queen."

tanaka argued, pointing at hinata and then turning and launching a ball in hinata's direction as the orange haired boy yelped, dodging and running from tanaka.

"good thing it's your shift today, with noya."

sugawara said, catching the back of tanaka's collar to stop him as the shaved haired boy choked.

-

"and then suga said that hinata was right- and that she was cute! unbelievable!"

"what a traitor to our goddess kiyoko!"

the two were talking about the 'pretty girl' that sugawara and hinata kept talking about. the two kept talking, not hearing the front door open and two people came walking in.

"what are they on about?"

y/n's brother, tendou, asked, his hands shoved into his hoodie pockets.

"how am i supposed to know? c'mon satori."

y/n tugged her brother towards the ice cream section, him following behind her.

"wait shit customers came in"

nishinoya said, looking at the two who disappeared from their sight behind the aisles of food.

"shut up and act professional."

"you act professional- and you shut up!"

the two teenage boys argued with each other, then a bit later, hearing stuff being dumped on the counter, looking at the noise and seeing two people, a red haired boy and h/c coloured hair girl.

"hey, don't dump them on the counter.."

y/n murmured, hitting tendou on the arm as he winced, rubbing his arm.

"ow, that hurt y/n.."

"no way it did."

y/n and tendou conversed as tanaka and nishinoya started scanning the items, looking up a few times and then making eye contact with each other.

'shit, is that her?'

'they were right, she's so pretty..'

'are them two dating?'

they both thought as the same time as tanaka handed them their bag.

"4,958 yen- please.."

y/n turned her head towards tendou, as he looked back at her.

"pay asshole."

"i'm so nice to you and this is what i get?"

tendou rolled his eyes, placing money down on the counter.

"thank you- let's go."

"the change bro"

tendou left the store, bag in hand as y/n waited for the change. tanaka dropped the change into her hand, and then y/n smiled, bowing.

"thank you so much."

y/n turned, leaving the store and yelling at tendou. while tanaka and nishinoya turned to each other. nishinoya nearly silently said,

"shit, suga and shoyo were right.."

[hellwantfuckme]

her warmth

summary: Azriel returns injured from a mission, he could have visited Madja, who would make quick work of healing his wounds, he prefers to stay with her, even if it will hurt a little more, as long as the solitary wound lodged in his chest also heals.

warnings: injuries, blood

author's note: Azriel has my heart.

Eclipse's face twisted into a minuscule expression of disgust as she looked at the brutal wound, fifteen centimeters long on Azriel's muscular back, just below his shoulder, a generous space between the gash and his shoulder blades where his wings began. The expression on her face increased, her eyebrows furrowing into a frown.

"Do you still insist on not going to a healer?" Eclipse asked, her voice weak as she saw the blood. A small knot lodged in her throat.

She had had wounds like that on her body a thousand times, and had treated them on her own, miraculously, only one or two had become infected. Eclipse was thankful that Azriel was sitting on the edge of her bed, looking forward, unable to see the slight disgust on her face. She was on her knees just behind him, keeping a reckless distance from his wings. The left wing comfortably stretched across the length of her bed, the other, somewhat more uncomfortable, reaching the headboard. But both were down, relaxed, perhaps. Or maybe he was just so tired that keeping them firm, as he normally did, was heavy. Eclipse had seen him sprawled out on a sofa, totally drunk, and still his wings didn't touch the ground. She had seen him sit on his bed other times, with his wings well tucked against his back.

Eclipse didn't know how to process that information. What it meant. She took a deep breath, cleared her mind. That was something for another time, to think about his body language and analyze it until reaching a thousand conclusions, she would do it later, when the Illyrian was not sitting on her bed. When there were only remnants of his scent left.

"Is it really bad?" Azriel asked, his hoarse voice sending a shiver through her spine and making her heart race. He remained downcast, bone-tired.

She hated seeing him like this, her frown only deepened. She didn't want to acknowledge that the feeling that ran through her veins was raw concern. Eclipse looked at the wound again.

"W-well, yes, it looks pretty bad. When did you get it? A day ago, two?" Eclipse inquired, although by the way the wound looked, it was clear to her that it had been more than 24 hours. She spoke without letting Azriel answer. "From Windhaven to here is two hours, flown two hours and it still hasn't healed on its own, it will need stitches. It looks deep," Eclipse said, voicing what had been going through her mind since Azriel had taken off the leathers covering the upper part of his body and sat on the bed.

The blue-gray light from the faelights gave her perfect illumination, the wing membranes appearing more of a light pink than the usual red.

Azriel stiffened, nerves attacking her, and she tried to keep them buried, push them down. She couldn't help but overanalyze every gesture, every change, to a conclusion that had as many opportunities to be correct as to be miles away from reality.

"Or so I think, I have no idea how Illyrians heal," Eclipse muttered doubtfully. She was no healer, just a twenty-two-year-old girl who had had to heal this kind of wounds more than once. "I don't even know how Faeries... do it. But from the times that..."

"No," Azriel interrupted. "It's... you're right. If it hasn't healed yet, it won't heal on its own."

"You said you've sewn wounds on yourself more than once, right?"

A conversation they had had months ago, Eclipse blinked, the only sign of surprise. She hadn't really thought he would remember it, it had been something she had only mentioned once, less than a minute.

"I could help you with the wound, it's not too late tho, we can still call Madja and..." Her doubts about herself grew denser.

"Can you do it?" Azriel interrupted again, his shoulders rigid.

Eclipse felt the tortured way the words came out of his lips, tense as well.

Eclipse sighed, not thinking too much about the fact that he was indirectly asking her to take care of his wounds, had a kind of meaning. The kind of meaning that Eclipse would spend hours thinking about, hours tossing and turning in her bed repeating every tiny interaction over and over again.

Her hand rested on Azriel's other shoulder, a mere sign of seeking balance as she got out of her bed and headed to the bathroom attached to her room. She didn't stop to think about the much-exposed skin she was showing with that barely thigh-length blue silk nightgown, or the discrete way his eyes roamed the length of her legs, to her exposed collarbones.

She entered and left the bathroom without taking too long, gathering everything she needed.

The House had provided her with a bowl of hot water and a clean cloth, as well as a sterilized needle and thread. And also, herbs that Eclipse knew very well. Yarrow leaves that would prevent bacteria in the wound, marigold flowers that would help with inflammation, and lavender, for the pain. She had prepared this mixture a thousand times, the smell of everything reminding her of all the times she had gotten into street fights, or bar fights, and especially, the scar along her forearm itched with the memory.

She banished the mental image of all the blood and panic she had felt back then. Now she knew what to do, although the fact that she would be treating someone who wasn't herself still sparked a slight panic in her chest. Eclipse filled her lungs with air for six seconds, held it for four, and released it for another six seconds.

«Calm down.»

She carefully left everything on her nightstand, with Azriel's gaze fixed on her, his usually stoic expression interrupted by a slight frown and a very slight pink shade on his cheeks. Eclipse must have imagined it.

She dipped the cloth tip in the hot water, then submerged the fabric a little more until half of it was wet and withdrew it, wringing it to remove the excess water.

Their eyes met for just a second while Eclipse stood up, there was a glimmer in his eyes that she could not decipher. It was incredible how, even without trying to hide his emotions, it was difficult to read him.

Eclipse turned the bed around, got on it, positioning herself just behind him. Her warm, somewhat wet hand from the cloth, touched his shoulder again to recompose properly. Eclipse felt him bristle. She didn't know if it was because of the contact or because she was too close to his wings, either way she backed off a little. Still close enough to easily reach his wound but maintaining a distance between her and his wings.

She cleared her throat.

"It might hurt a little," she said.

"I've dealt with worse," Azriel told her, his voice almost guttural and tense. Eclipse stopped for a second.

Was it the pain? Or perhaps, had he changed his mind about this and wanted to leave? Maybe he had seen her nerves. Maybe the pain clouded his judgment and he hadn't thought it through.

Eclipse heard a sigh escape his nose, and she looked at the wound again, unsure of how to proceed. The idea of reminding him that he could leave if he wasn't comfortable, that they could still call Madja, was a quick order to her vocal cords, and when she was about to speak, Azriel beat her to it.

"How did you learn to heal wounds like this?" he inquired. His voice notably less tense.

Eclipse took it as an invitation and gently placed the cloth over the beginning of his smooth, firm skin break.

"I used to get into fights," Eclipse murmured as the cloth gently crossed the wound, cleaning impurities.

The smell of blood reached her, the blood and the cedar and exhaustion. Eclipse still wasn't used to the fact that emotions gave off a smell, even though she had been Fae for three years, with countless years ahead of her.

"The friends I had were all from extremely questionable security neighborhoods. They solved everything with violence, the slightest offense, the smallest debt…"

Eclipse sighed.

"I've broken my thumb twice punching wrong, and I have thousands of small scars from learning to use a dagger properly. And I've had wounds like this more times than I care to remember," she explained.

She finished cleaning the wound without giving any further explanations, and Azriel didn't speak or make any sounds of pain, he just clenched his jaw so hard she thought a tooth would break. Eclipse remembered how she had screamed, they had made her bite a belt, the first time she had gotten a wound like this and they had simply cleaned it. Although there was also the fact that she had been infinitely gentler cleaning Azriel's wound than her friends had been cleaning hers.

Eclipse got out of bed, leaving the cloth on the nightstand.

The house conjured up another wooden bowl, right next to the herbs. She put each of the herbs in the bowl, poured some hot water over them, and crushed them as best as she could. It took her longer than she would have liked, Azriel's gaze, once again, fixed on her.

"You've broken your thumb twice?" Azriel asked, raising an eyebrow. She saw curiosity and a bit of fun on his face and snorted.

"At least you know how to throw a punch," she joked, halfheartedly.

"If I haven't, are you going to push me into the ring with Cassian and have him yell orders at me?" Eclipse joked.

"Cassian would be too soft for someone who has broken their thumb twice giving a punch, and done it wrong."

"I was fifteen!" Eclipse excused herself, her voice rising only slightly. The corners of his lips curved into a tiny smile. "But I do know how to throw a punch."

"I'd like to see that," Eclipse rolled her eyes; his smile grew slightly broader.

When the ointment was ready, Eclipse positioned herself behind him again. Every time Eclipse saw the wound it seemed to get larger, bloodier.

She applied the ointment carefully on the wound, Azriel let out a small groan of pain, almost imperceptible. Eclipse grimaced and swallowed.

"Sorry," she murmured. When she finished, she looked at the needle. "Could you pass me the needle?"

Azriel handed it over without objection.

"I imagine I don't need to tell you it's going to hurt," she murmured again.

Azriel closed his eyes when the needle pierced his skin, his fists tightened the sheets beneath him.

Eclipse sewed the wound with expert hands, a process that took long minutes until it was closed. Azriel let out a sigh, and she, as gently as she could, bandaged the wound.

"Go see Madja tomorrow morning, Azriel," she practically ordered. He just nodded. Eclipse got off the bed, then, standing in front of him. He straightened up, even when a grimace of pain settled on his face at doing so, just to be able to look at her better. For the first time, he had to lift his chin to look her in the eyes.

Eclipse noticed a few drops of blood staining his face, and her muscles moved without thinking. Azriel spread his knees wide enough to make room for Eclipse between them, while her hand cradled his face, her thumb tracing the dried drop of blood on his cheek.

Azriel inevitably closed his eyes, tilting his face to the incredibly soft touch of her hand.

Her chest filled with warmth.

"You have to rest, Az," she murmured, not breaking the chocolate gaze of the man who seemed so... vulnerable. "My bed is yours if you want it."

He opened his eyes, as if wanting to confirm that she had just said that. That he wasn't imagining it. He blinked.

"Where will you sleep?" he asked, barely more than a whisper.

Eclipse nodded towards the sofa in front of the windows, it was actually large enough for her to sleep well, although she knew she wouldn't. In reality, she didn't know why she had offered it. But she didn't have time to regret it.

"No, I..."

"If you want to stay, you will stay in bed," Eclipse said, her voice firm. Azriel blinked again, surprise disappearing as quickly as it appeared.

Azriel knew it would be tremendously selfish to let the kind woman who had healed him, and who was looking after him right now, sleep on a sofa. But he couldn't leave her warmth, her scent around him. He couldn't bear to return to his room, alone. Just as he had been for five hundred years, because he had discovered that she filled a heavy void in his chest. That there wasn't a corner that felt uncomfortable with her, he couldn't find a flaw in her. Not one.

So he simply nodded. And let himself be taken care of.

[caplanbuckybarnes]

The Price of Loyalty (Curtis Everett One Shot)

Summary: Curtis finally apprehends you for betraying him.

Warnings: death

WC: 823

Read on Ao3

gif sent by @stargazingfangirl18

Send a gif for a drabble here!

--

Curtis Everett wasn’t a man easily crossed. He ruled his empire with an iron fist, sharp eyes hidden beneath his well-tailored suits. His hands might’ve once been clean, but the years of bloodshed, deals made in the dead of night, and alliances bought had left invisible stains on them. He was known for his cold, calculating demeanour, yet anyone who knew Curtis knew that loyalty meant everything to him.

That was why the betrayal hurt so much.

The opulent penthouse office was eerily quiet, save for the ticking of a wall clock that mocked the tension brewing in the room. Curtis sat behind his sleek black desk, his fingers lightly tapping on its surface. In front of him stood Jude, his most trusted lieutenant, the man he had practically raised in this life.

Curtis stared at her for what felt like an eternity, the words he had just spoken hanging heavy in the air. She couldn't meet her boss’s eyes.

"How could you betray me?" Curtis's voice was steady but laced with an undercurrent of disbelief and fury. His blue eyes bore into her with the weight of a thousand unspoken threats.

"I—" her voice cracked as she finally looked up. Her eyes were full of guilt, but beneath that, something more dangerous lurked—regret. "I didn’t want it to end like this."

Curtis stood up slowly, the leather of his chair creaking softly. "End like this?" He repeated, his tone cold. "You should've known this would never end well for you, Y/N."

Her shoulders sagged under the weight of Curtis's words. "It wasn't supposed to happen. I never meant for them to get hurt, Curtis, I swear. But they made me choose."

Curtis stepped around the desk, circling her like a predator stalking its prey. "Choose?" He spat the word out like poison. "You chose the enemy. You sold out our entire operation—for what? Money? Power? What could they offer you that I couldn’t?"

She winced as Curtis’s voice grew more venomous with each word. The truth was, she had never intended to betray Curtis. She had never wanted to. But the other family had made promises, threats. They had leverage, and she had been cornered.

"I thought I could control it," she admitted quietly. "I thought if I just gave them what they wanted, we could still—"

"Still what?!" Curtis's voice was suddenly thunderous, reverberating off the walls. His patience snapped, and he grabbed Jude by the collar, pulling him close. "Still play pretend? Still act like you’re loyal while stabbing me in the back?"

Her breath hitched. She had seen Curtis angry before, but this was different. This was personal.

"I didn’t mean for it to go this far," she whispered, eyes darting to the side. Curtis’s grip on her collar tightened.

"Look at me," Curtis ordered. She hesitated, then forced her gaze back to the man she had called boss—and family—for years. Curtis’s expression was unreadable now; his rage tempered into something even more dangerous: cold resolve.

"They took everything from us, Curtis," She pleaded. "Our shipment, our money, our intel—they would’ve killed me. They had everything on me."

"And now I have nothing on you." Curtis’s voice was low, almost a whisper. The betrayal was etched into every syllable.

For a moment, silence hung in the air like smoke. Curtis let go of her and stepped back. He ran a hand through his hair, his mind racing. He had known about the leak in his operation for weeks but had never suspected her, not until tonight when the final piece of the puzzle fell into place. Now, Curtis had a choice to make.

Her eyes widened when Curtis reached inside his jacket and pulled out a gleaming silver revolver. "Curtis, wait—"

"No more excuses, babes." Curtis’s finger hovered over the trigger. "You chose them over me. There’s only one way this ends."

She took a shaky step back, desperation filling her voice. "I never stopped being loyal to you. I did what I had to survive. I thought you would understand!"

Curtis’s jaw clenched, but he hesitated for just a moment, memories of their years together flashing before him. He had saved her more times than he could count, brought her up in the business, and treated her like a family. But this… this was unforgivable.

"Understand?" Curtis said quietly, raising the gun. "No, Y/N. Loyalty is a two-way street."

The gunshot echoed through the room like the closing of a chapter. She crumpled to the ground, lifeless eyes staring at Curtis. The silence that followed was deafening.

Curtis stood still for a long time, the weight of what had just happened settling heavily in his chest. He holstered the gun, turning away from the body. There was no time for remorse, no time to mourn the man he once called family.

In the mafia, betrayal was the highest sin. And Curtis Everett was not a man to forgive.

[sunnie-angel]

Part 4: The Plan

part 3 | series masterlist | ao3 link

jason todd x f!reader

summary: one step back, one step forward in this dance with jason’s warring desires for intimacy and distance

tags: swearing, UST, light angst

rated explicit (mdni) | wc: 2.7k

a/n: i’ve never experienced an american thanksgiving so all of my knowledge of it comes from pop culture. this is basically the last of my ‘set up’ chapters, so plot + relationship development is going to really hit their strides starting from here.

Jason is learning to live with the thousand pangs of guilt that go hand in hand with his determination to be your friend and only your friend. Guilt churns his stomach so often that it fades to just another background distraction. Every time you stiffen up when he pulls back, every time you try to catch your face before the disappointment can shine through, he sees it all. He should keep his distance, stop reeling you in close before drawing back unexpectedly, but he can’t quite manage it.

A more recent encounter is still seared into his brain. It plays behind his eyelids as he swims laps around the pool with Rei.

The two of you had been heading to the dinner two blocks off of campus after Duvall’s class, the fiery light of the sunset colouring the worn paths across the quad. Class had been predictably… painful. Reading it for his own purposes or for a group of students to discuss, Frankenstein has always struck a raw nerve. I am thy creature and I will be even mild and docile to my natural lord and king, if thou wilt also perform thy part, which thou owest me. Seen and made raw by a woman and her monster years in the past, and isn’t that just the rub? The world spins, new generations live and die and live again to be just as disappointing to the men that created them. Jason’s heart had ached behind his sternum and even the usual balm of your chatter had taunted him with everything he denies himself. He’d made all the right noises, kept his head down and hands jammed into his pockets as the two of you had finally made it to the diner.

“God I almost lost it when what’s-his-name in business started talking.” You’d snorted as you’d opened up your menu, plastic pages clinging together. “Like is it really so hard to have an ounce of empathy? We should start a list of worst takes because that had to be a top five. Jay?” Jason must not have been playing his part well enough because now you’re looking at him, too silent, too caught up on the long stale nickname. “What are you thinking Jay, because I’m thinking pancakes for dinner.” All he could think of is the one and only Dick took him out for pancakes. Begrudgingly. And how it had ended with Dick storming out, suddenly excited about hanging out with the Titans, only to come back disappointed when he had realized he was Jason’s only ride.

“Don’t.” It had come out low and mean, lobbed through gritted teeth like something hot and vicious. Jason had watched it hit you, the way you’d leaned back from the table and hunched your shoulders closer. “Just don’t call me that, yeah?” It had taken concentrated effort on his part to breathe, mimic loosening the tension in his body, to look smaller and non-threatening.

“Oh. Okay, Jason.” Silence had stretched out between the two of you, an almost tangible distance. The words to explain, to apologize and smooth things over had stuck in his throat. The fading light had caught your face for a moment, your face crumpling in hurt before shuttering closed. Your blank face was burned into his mind’s eye just as clearly as all the ways he had not repaired things between you.

Jason surfaces, water sluicing off of his shoulders, before going back under for another stroke. His body takes over the pattern of striking and breathing while his mind returns to the diner. There’s a small animal part at the back of his mind that’s wary of the water. Keeps a small part of him on the look out for any tinges of green to the liquid in the irrational fear that he might also come out of this body of water changed. Actually taking Rei up on his offer to go swimming was in some ways a punishment for Jason, adrenaline thrumming through his veins until his muscles flagged from exhaustion.

Rei is waiting for him at the entrance to the gym, water bottle half empty and lid still unscrewed. His glasses keep sliding down his still damp face but he grins at Jason anyway.

“You sure you’re not looking for a spot on the swim team? Because I’m sure the team captain would get the coaches to make an exception for you.”

Re-shouldering his duffel, Jason asks, “Now why would he do that?”

“I’d do it because I want one last trophy for the relay team.” Rei says wryly.

“No shit?”

“Yeah, I don’t really advertise it because I’ve been doing it for so long that I keep forgetting new people don’t already know I swim. But if you want a spot you’re in. You lapped me like what, four times?”

“Five,” Jason says sheepishly. “Not much of a team player, so I’m gonna have to turn you down.”

“Fair enough,” Rei shrugs. “But I don’t think you’re giving yourself enough credit. You probably dodged a bullet though, the coaches are hard asses about not drinking before meets.”

“Yeah, speakin’ of drinkin’, what the hell was in those drinks you made the first night.”

Rei laughs and the conversation takes a more lighthearted turn as they head across campus to the student union. It doesn’t take much to keep the conversation going so Jason has time to turn over Rei’s invitation over in his head. Jason would never have been able to accept — spackling over his extensive scarring for even just today had been a pain — but it had given him hope that maybe even after all his mishaps with you, that he might still be achieving ‘normal’.

Wednesday comes by and Jason makes up his mind to show up the weekly study session. With the Thanksgiving weekend coming up he’s got less work than ever but an even stronger desire not to be alone. Campus has emptied out in anticipation of the long weekend, the student union almost echoingly empty. Lina and Rei are already taking up a bench, sickeningly affectionate and dodging the balled up paper scraps Danika is tossing at them. You sit next to her, rolling your eyes at her antics then egging her on whenever Lina swoops in to leave another lipstick stain on Rei’s cheeks. He hesitates before committing to the seat at the end of the table nearest to you. The fresh loukoumades burning a hole in his bag will have to be shield and apology enough.

He’s nearly there, three feet out from his target, when the sound of a chair getting angrily out of the way diverts his attention. Will is dragging his bike through the field of chairs, cursing up a storm that has even Jason with all of his years in Gotham taken aback. Quite possibly its the most words Jason’s heard Will say out loud in the scarce months he’s known the man. The incongruity of the scene with who Will generally is as a person sends most of table into nervous half laughter.

“Will? Will what’s wrong? The biking parking finally full or something?” You ask, disbelieving.

“What the fuck does it look like?” He snarls, before throwing the bike to the ground in frustration.

“Hey—“

“Will, what happened?” Lina cuts Jason off, uncurling herself from around Rei and leaning forward. Her eyes are wide and searching, and in Jason’s opinion, not suspicious enough for the uncharacteristic rage on Will’s face.

“Some motherfucking cock sucking moron nearly ran me off the sidewalk in their piece of shit gas guzzler. That’s what happened.” He goes to throw himself into the seat next to you but Jason beats him to it, larger frame boxing him out. Throwing Jason an annoyed glance, Will slouches into the only seat left. He brandishes his coat clad arm in front of Lina and Rei, still thrumming with pent up energy.

“Look what they did!” He exclaims.

“I don’t think any of the bandaids in my bag are big enough for that scrape.” Rei says regretfully.

“What— never mind the scrape, look what they did to my coat!” He pulls the fabric tight across his wrist, shoving it under their noses. Rei and Lina give each other confused looks over Will’s head.

“There’s a lose thread?” Questions Danika.

“Yes! Thank you, yes! That idiotic jackass made me scrape up my Loro Piana jacket, do you know how much this costs?!”

“So,” Danika interjects, “won’t your family just buy you a new one and write this off for taxes or something?”

“That’s not— okay that piece of shit not only destroyed my jacket and put my life at risk but he’s also polluting with his mid-life crisis pollutant puker. You know there’s a reason Gotham ranks worst in pollution for cities in New Jersey? It’s thanks to people like that who don’t care that their cars are leaking oil and going knocking people — who are just trying to be nice to the environment — off of their bikes when they were just minding their own—“

“Report it to the police or campus security then.” Jason interrupts, before Will can get into the rant he’s building up steam for. “You got close enough to see the oil leaking, you probably saw the license plate too.” Jason pulls the loukoumades out of his bag and slides them over to you, keeping eye contact with Will the whole while. Will breaks eye contact first, pulling his perfectly intact black wool coat tighter around him before shoving his hands deep in the pockets. You’ve cracked open the container and let out a hum of delight. Will’s eyes dart to the table.

“Didn’t get it. How was I supposed to know that one minute I’d be riding along, and then the next I’d be traumatized for life by some inconsiderate brute?” He sulks. And oh, yeah, not everyone had grown up with B and all of his lessons on paying attention to your environment for evidence.

“Yeah, speaking of trauma, who’s got plans for thanksgiving yet?” Danika asks, mirth and humour her weapon against the atmosphere.

A sharp elbow knocks once into Jason’s ribs. He turns to look down at you, hoping your bid for attention won’t turn out to be disappointing. You meet his gaze with cheeks stuffed full of fried dough and honeyed syrup, eyes narrowed and considering.

“They’re not pancakes, but I thought you’d like ‘em anyway.” Jason says.

You swallow, before beginning to speak in a low voice, letting the flow of conversation continue around the two of you undisturbed. “If this is an apology, there better be more from where that came from.” Your small lopsided smile is sincere, but it doesn’t quite erase the image of your blank face from the dinner from his memory. Nodding, he goes to pull out the second Tupperware container that he’d had the foresight to prepare and you begin to lick the leftover syrup from your fingers. Jason’s vision narrows down to your thumb and forefinger, glistening in the fluorescent lights. He could swear his heart skips a beat when your pink tongue flicks out, his breathing certifiably irregular when you start to suck on your fingers. The image of your lips shiny from syrup will probably be engraved on his second headstone as the cause of death.

“—son, Jason.” Danika’s voice, high pitched and insistent, breaks the moment. He’d be embarrassed at tuning out his situational awareness if he wasn’t also scrambling to answer her half-heard question.

“No plans for me. My family and I aren’t really in a ‘gatherings and gratitude’ place right now.”

“Whoops, we’ll add your family to the off-limits list. What do you usually do then?”

Your phone starts buzzing, and you swear under your breath as you navigate sticky fingers and tight jean pockets.

“I just make a fancier meal than normal, watch the parade on the tv. Not much to it.” He replies off-handedly. He doesn’t mention the extra patrols he’ll do, in anticipation of one of the Rogues deciding to make a splash across holiday headlines.

“Sorry, I’ve got to answer this.” And already you’re trying to climb over Jason to get out from the booth and away from the table. It brings your face closer to his than it’s ever been and Jason would be trying to pin a name to the exact shade of your eyes if it wasn’t for the worry on your face. The nearly empty building means that you don’t wander far from the group. You pace as you listen to whoever is on the phone and play with the charm on your necklace. Will catches on to Jason’s line of sight and rolls his eyes, still sulking in his chair.

“So there’s a whole list, yeah? Things you don’t talk about?” Jason asks, trying to distract himself.

“Oh I wouldn’t call it anything so official.” Lina dismisses.

“No but we totally should!” Fires back Danika. “It would make things sooo much less awkward if Jason knew not to bring up just how much money Will’s rolling in, or the fact that Rei hates talking about the team right before a swim meet, or that when she,” and here Danika lowers her voice and nods in your direction, “plays with her necklace on a phone call fifty bucks says it’s someone from her family.”

“Got it, no askin’ her about the secret phone calls.” Jason says with a tight smile.

“Oh it’s nothing super secret.” Danika leans back into the corner and waves a lazy hand. “Just that most of them were dead set against her doing English instead of some ‘useful degree’ like pre-med or engineering. Don’t know why though, I don’t think’ I’ve ever met anyone that hates calculus more.”

But Jason, Jason thinks he does know why. Puts together the little pieces of your past you’d entrusted to his scarred hands and looks to the shared weft of your past. Looks at a girl whose family had scraped and fought to make a life untouched by poverty in a city that doesn’t easily forgive, and knows that it took luck and bone wearying effort to make it out of the Alley’s clutches. He looks at the girl who is used to being told her opinions don’t matter and yet believing in them anyway, who has put together a path leading right to her dreams even if the detours take her back to the place her family was happy to leave behind. Jason looks around the table at these fresh faced kids in their $6000 jackets and knows that none of them understand the constant, cavernous fear that all of the little luxuries they take for granted will suddenly disappear like morning fog. Jason knows the kind of courage it takes to push past that dogged fear and refuse the path your family pushes you down in order to achieve loftier goals.

The conversation has moved past him now, wrapped in his reverie. Rei and Danika have devolved into the kind of hardline negotiation Jason would have expected to see between seasoned lawyers rather than undergrads.

“C’mon Danika, I know you want a Pinterest worthy friends-giving but it’s just not going to work out this year.” Rei chides. “There’s just no time that’s gonna work for all of us.”

“Yes but it’s our last year when we’re all for sure going to be in the same place for the holiday weekend!”

“Look, we should all be free the Friday after the long weekend. We’ll do another night out, me and Lina will host the pre, and it’ll be our version of friends-giving. I’ll even make turkey themed cocktails if you want.”

“Gross! Fine, fine.” Danika most definitely does not whine. “But make them pumpkin pie themed cocktails instead.”

Jason’s got half an ear on the conversation, but continues to study you as long as his input isn’t needed. You sigh and seem to deflate as your call ends.

“So boys, are you ready to see the damage Rei can do when he’s got his full bar cart with him?” Lina asks, coy as anything. “I’m sure he’ll be able to make something that will even get you dancing, Jason.”

You shuffle around Jason, trying to squirm back into your bench seat. For a brief moment, your thighs bracket his.

“If that’s the plan,” Jason breathes out shakily.

Part 5

[i4oba]

nct dream as… / movies 𓈒✳︎🪜

[feel free to follow me on letterboxd eheh!]

✰ MARK — 10 THINGS I HATE ABOUT YOU

“maybe it was the dose of alcohol in your system, or maybe it was just the rush of adrenaline you got from the people of the party, but when you looked into mark’s eyes, you couldn’t conceal your feelings at all anymore. it was all just fun and games, you weren’t amused at all, hardly deciding on giving attention to his antics… but here we go now – you, ready to throw up, while listening to him speaking his mind, saying whatever he could think of, while the only thing that filled your brain was only one thing: kissing him. kissing him right there and then, in the crack of a night at some random’s place, both taking place at the rusty swing. should you do it? does he actually want you, or are these mere mixed signals?

✰ RENJUN — THE HOLDOVERS

“he could’ve sworn this was by far the best point of his stay at the campus – or, rather away from there, as both him and his teacher took a trip to boston, as it was all supposed to be, am i right? ice skating, searching for books on the street, deepish talks and a screening at the movie theatre… he felt happy, relieved even, but how long is this going to last him? how long can he rely on the sole feeling of relief when he cannot be so sure when it’s gonna end all so suddenly? is he selfish, or is he rather self conscious? his arm was hurting badly, aching, as he leaned back, deciding last minute about what he wants to do – “i need a bathroom break” is all he says.”

✰ JENO — FOUR WEDDINGS AND A FUNERAL

“he had to rub his eyes so hardly when he spotted you, ever so beautiful and ethereal in your light pink dress, smile so charming his heart wouldn’t stop beating way too hardly against his chest. he wouldn’t have thought you two would meet ever again, but here you were – a wedding (again), which was pretty much unwanted and rushed, but he couldn’t even think about how much of a bad choice it was from his best friend to marry this early. all he could focus on was the way you softly talked to one of the guests, tucking a strand of hair behind your ear as you simply nodded. you only looked up for a minute, maybe two at that, but you definitely noticed jeno’s gaze on yourself. you mouthed something at him, which took him a few moments to solve properly, caught off guard by the never forgotten beauty of yours. “i missed you, jeno”

✰ HAECHAN — NOTTING HILL

“when you looked at him, barely even paying a glance, his breath instantly got taken away by the sight of you. not only because of the fact that you were a top actress, wandering into his bookshop, but because you were stunning as well, glowing, brightly shining in front of him, seemingly searching for something through the shelves, sunglasses sitting atop of your nose. he could’ve easily just take a few steps closer to you, even offer some help, but he was way too flustered to even mutter his name if you asked him. but why would that even happen, right? he’s nothing, compared to you – an angel, he cannot quite capture. and then you came up to the counter, three books in hands… well, maybe he could…”

✰ JAEMIN — BEFORE SUNRISE

“standing next to the train, which would take him to paris, he simply just looked at you, stars in eyes and blush on cheeks, as he reached for your hands, thumbs caressing the back of them ever so slowly – his forehead against yours, you could breathe in the unsaid words that were playing on his lips endlessly, and you could’ve just kissed him, kissed him once and then a thousand times more, so he would never leave. but he had to leave, leave vienna behind, leave the journey behind, leave you and the mesmerizing feeling of blooming love between the two of you. his eyes were rather teary, as you bore into them. “we have to meet here again” you said, both hands on his cheeks, eyes full of certainity. you want this, more than anything. “ten years from now – the same place, the same feelings, the…” would that happen? ever again?”

✰ CHENLE — LITTLE WOMEN

“was he actually interested in the play you wrote or not, you did not even care, as you saw the way his eyes formed such definite half moon shapes, smile so bright and wide, you’d never seen such beautiful sight. he laughed so loudly that it was echoing in the almost empty attic for way too long, as you kept on acting with your sisters, relentlessly and enthusiastically, staying in role even after you saw chenle, wiping his tears of laughter. you took it as a sign – he liked it, he enjoyed it, which was all you needed to be reassured: you did good. not only you, as the writer, but your sisters too, little actresses and primadonnas. chenle wanted to say something, he was keen on letting you know whatever was going through his mind, but he kept it to himself. maybe later, maybe on a different day – maybe when he gathers his courage to tell you he’s madly in love with you?”

✰ JISUNG — DEAD POETS SOCIETY

“with utter and undeniable admiration, jisung simply just looked up from the trembling hands of his, that were previously laying on the crumpled piece of paper he had torn out from his notebook - he wrote the poem with pencil so the letters seemed and were pretty much smudged, but he didn’t even need the paper itsel, he knew his creation by heart, as he rewrote it thousands of times because of sheer anxiety. he wanted it to be perfect, he wanted it to sound like something whitman would adore, something rilke would’ve written in those early years. when his teacher’s voice finally reached his ears, he simply stood up, legs shaking, as he walked out to the front, barely being able to form words, as the fright got over him - “do it, son, i believe in you” was all he heard - he sighed, and then… “unbeknownst to me the feeling of…”

[srslyblvck]

── arm's length,, elijah mikaelson

pairing: elijah mikaelson x fem!reader

synopsis: elijah had always kept you at arm's length. today you finally confronted him.

genre: angst, hurt-comfort

warnings: none

word count: 1.1k

⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ THE NIGHT AIR WAS brittle, heavy with the quiet hum of the woods surrounding the Mikaelson estate. You stood on the balcony, your arms wrapped tightly around yourself, trying to ward off the chill creeping into your bones. He was late again. You weren’t sure why you even expected otherwise. Elijah Mikaelson was nothing if not elusive, slipping through the cracks of your life like water through cupped hands.

The sound of footsteps behind you shattered the silence, and you turned to find him standing there. His silhouette was bathed in moonlight, his immaculate suit dark against the pale glow. His face was as unreadable as ever, though his eyes betrayed him, shadowed with guilt and sorrow.

“You’re late,” you said quietly, not bothering to hide the edge in your voice.

“I didn’t mean to—”

“You never do.” You turned back to the night sky, unwilling to face him. “But you always find a reason, don’t you? A reason to leave. A reason to stay away.”

His silence stretched between you like an unspoken truth. Finally, he stepped closer, his voice low and measured. “You know why I keep my distance.”

You let out a hollow laugh, shaking your head. “Oh, I know. You’ve made that very clear. Because I’m human. Because I’m fragile. Because I’ll die, and you won’t.”

“Don’t trivialize this.” His voice was sharp now, a flash of that famous Mikaelson temper breaking through his usual restraint. “Do you think it’s easy for me? Watching you live this fleeting, brilliant life, knowing that I—” He stopped himself, his fists clenching at his sides. “Knowing that I’ll outlive it?”

“Then why not let me love you while I’m here?” you asked, your voice trembling. “Why punish us both for something we can’t change?”

His jaw tightened, and he turned away, his gaze fixed on some distant point in the horizon. “You don’t understand what you’re asking of me.”

“Don’t I?” You stepped toward him, anger simmering beneath your sorrow. “Do you think I don’t understand what it means to love you? To love someone who’s seen the rise and fall of civilizations? Who’s walked this earth for centuries while I have maybe a handful of decades left?”

“Elijah,” you continued, your voice breaking, “you think you’re protecting me by keeping me at arm’s length, but all you’re doing is breaking my heart in slow motion.”

He flinched at your words, his composure cracking for just a moment. “If I give in,” he said, his voice barely more than a whisper, “if I let myself love you the way you deserve, it will destroy me when I lose you.”

“And what about me?” you shot back, tears welling in your eyes. “What about the destruction you’re leaving me with now? Every time you pull away, every time you disappear, it’s like losing you piece by piece.”

His face softened, but the pain in his eyes deepened. “You think this is easy for me? To deny myself the only thing I’ve wanted in centuries? To stand here, knowing that if I give in, I’ll condemn myself to a grief that never ends?”

You took a step closer, your voice trembling but firm. “You’re already grieving me, Elijah. You’re mourning me before I’m even gone. And it’s not fair. To either of us.”

The silence that followed was deafening, his eyes locked on yours as if searching for an answer he couldn’t bear to find. When he spoke again, his voice was raw, stripped of its usual careful control. “I’ve lost everyone I’ve ever cared for. Every single one. Do you know what it’s like to live for a thousand years, burdened by the memory of every love you’ve buried? To carry that weight, century after century?”

Your breath hitched, and you reached out, your hand brushing his. “I don’t know that kind of pain,” you admitted. “But I know that I’d rather have a few years of loving you than a lifetime of wondering what it would’ve been like.”

He shook his head, a soft, bitter laugh escaping his lips. “You say that now. But someday, I’ll be standing over your grave, and you’ll be gone. And I’ll still be here.”

Tears spilled down your cheeks, but you held his gaze. “Then I’ll love you from my grave. I’ll love you so fiercely that even death won’t take it from you.”

Elijah’s composure shattered. He took a step closer, his hands trembling at his sides. “Do you think this is easy for me?” he asked, his voice raw. “Do you think I don’t ache every moment I’m away from you? That I don’t dream of a life where I can give you the happiness you deserve?”

“Then why won’t you let yourself have it?” you cried, the tears spilling over now. “Why won’t you let me have you?”

“Because I will lose you!” he shouted, his voice cracking under the weight of his grief. “And I cannot endure that pain again. I have buried too many loves, seen too many faces fade from memory. If I love you, truly love you, it will destroy me when you are gone.”

“And what about me?” you demanded, stepping closer. “You think I don’t know the risks? You think I haven’t thought about the day I’ll be gone and you’ll still be here? But I’m here now, Elijah. I’m alive. And you’re wasting it.”

He turned away, his shoulders trembling as he struggled to regain control. “You deserve a life unburdened by the chaos I bring. A life with someone who can grow old with you.”

“You don’t get to decide that for me,” you said, your voice steady despite the tears streaming down your face. “You don’t get to take away my choice just because you’re scared.”

You moved closer, desperate to reach him, to make him understand. “You can’t stop time, Elijah. You can’t stop the pain. But you can choose to let yourself be happy. Even if it’s just for a little while.”

He looked at you then, his eyes glistening with unshed tears. “Happiness is a cruel illusion for someone like me.”

“Then let me be your illusion,” you whispered, stepping close enough to feel the heat of him. “Let me be yours, if only for as long as I can.”

For a moment, you thought he might leave again, retreat into the shadows where he felt safest. But then he reached out, his hand cupping your cheek, his touch so gentle it almost broke you. “You are asking me to risk everything,” he murmured, his voice heavy with anguish.

“And I’m giving you everything in return,” you replied.

His lips met yours then, desperate and searching, as though trying to carve this moment into eternity. When he finally pulled away, his forehead rested against yours, his breath mingling with yours in the still night air. “If I lose you,” he said, his voice trembling, “I may never recover.”

“Then don’t lose me,” you whispered. “Not yet.”

And for the first time, Elijah Mikaelson let himself hope.

[so-long-soldier-writes]

The Case of the Missing Shirts

elijah mikaelson x reader

summary: elijah's baffled about how many of his shirts that have gone missing... kol hints that you might be behind the harmless theft.

tags: fluff, wolf!reader, pregnancy, nesting

word count: 1.3k

a/n: hayley erasure; reader is in her place

A confused Elijah shakes his head one more time before going downstairs and into the kitchen. He greets his sister with a “good morning,” and receives one back, before the girl eyes him suspiciously. 

“You wore that shirt yesterday, did you not?”

“How could you tell, Bex? They’re all the same,” Kol interrupts before he can respond. 

“There’s a little wrinkle there, and I know how much you hate wrinkles.”

Elijah sighs, “actually, I did. It’s the strangest thing, I can’t find so many of my shirts. My others are in the wash at the moment, leaving me with this one.”

“Missing shirts? How odd.”

“My thoughts exactly. I have no idea where they might be.”

Kol’s face changes to a smirk. “Might have something to do with the little wolf upstairs.”

“What are you talking about?”

“I mean, I’m not saying she stole them, but you might want to check with her.”

“Are you insinuating Y/N is stealing my clothes? Why would you accuse her of something like that?”

“I’m not accusing her of anything, brother, I’m just saying, she might know where they are.”

In fact, Kol knows exactly where all his missing shirts are. You have taken them. He saw it for himself when he went to check on you the other night. He had entered the room before you had time to hide them, and he chuckled at the sight, but promised not to tell Elijah. But that didn’t mean he couldn’t hint at his knowledge of where they are.

Elijah sighs, annoyed at the situation, and now at his brother. “I don’t like you talking about her like that.”

“I’m not saying anything bad! Sorry I said anything. Your shirts can stay missing for all I care.” With that, Kol leaves the room. 

As he passes the threshold, another brother enters. “What’s his problem?” Nik gestures to the brooding sibling on his way back upstairs. 

“Nothing of concern, Niklaus, we just had a scuffle.”

“What kind of scuffle?”

“Have you seen where any of Elijah’s shirts have gone, Nik? He can’t seem to find them,” Rebekah interrupts the conversation.

“This scuffle is about shirts? Are we serious?”

“Well Kol thinks Y/N knows where they are, but-”

“-I have no idea why he would think that,” Elijah finishes. 

“Again,” Klaus pinches his nose in disbelief, “the argument is over shirts? I have more important business to handle.” And with that, he storms out to the balcony. 

Rebekah and Elijah look at each other.

“I guess it wouldn’t hurt to ask her, ‘Lijah.”

“Alright,” he says finally, “I’ll ask.”

Thirty minutes later, he ventures up to your room and knocks on your door. 

“Y/N?” 

His voice makes you panic, and you begin to stuff your belongings under your pillows and blankets. “One minute!” Once your bed is more or less neat, you call out for him to enter. 

Elijah opens the door slowly and surveys the room. “Hello, lovely, I was just wondering if you knew where any of my shirts have gone? It’s the strangest thing, I can’t find them.”

You shift uncomfortably. “N-no, I haven’t seen them.”

Your strange behavior doesn’t go unnoticed by the thousand year old vampire. He narrows his eyes at you. “Y/N?”

“Mhm?”

“Are you sure?”

You nod your head quickly, not trusting your words. 

“Darling? If you know, I won’t be upset.”

You try to lie again, but your breath gets caught in your throat. “I’m sorry!” You blurt out. “I have them; they’re all here.” One-by-one, you pull the missing garments out from under your blankets. “I’m sorry I took them! I liked the way they smell, because they smell like you, and it makes me feel safe.”

His face immediately softens, “oh, don’t apologize, you did nothing wrong. I just wanted to know.”

“I know you’re running low, you can have them back.” You ignore his words, shoving the pile into his arms. A pouty expression takes over your face, making him regret confronting you about it.

“How about this… let me wash these, because I do happen to be low on clean ones, but every time I wear one, you can have it for a couple of days, okay?”

At this, your eyes light up. “Really?”

“Would that make you happy?”

You nod quickly, but not before biting your lip in embarrassment and looking down at the floor. 

He catches on quickly. “There’s no reason to feel embarrassed, love. I’m not going to pretend to know what you’re going through, but I do understand your reason for this. I’m glad my scent makes you feel safe.”

You want to tell him it’s more than that. You want to tell him he makes you feel safe, and that having his scent so close reminds you of that. You want to tell him that you cuddle it when you sleep, because if you can’t have him, having his scent is the next best thing. Most of all, you want to tell him just how badly you want him.

But you can’t. Because the baby growing inside you isn’t his. It’s his brother’s. 

Deep down, you think Elijah already knows this. You know he cares for you, he’s proven it to you many times. He has kept you safe ever since you came into the family’s lives; he’s fought for you, killed for you. 

The only thing standing in the way of him taking things further with you is that the baby isn’t his. You can’t be his. 

So, the two of you tiptoe around his brother. In love but not allowed to express it, and instead, showing your affection for one another through little things. Everyone in the house can see right through you, though. Nik ignores it, while the younger two tease. 

But the further you get in your pregnancy, the more needy you become. Your body craves and heart aches for him. Not able to ignore your desires any longer, you caved just a little bit and stole a shirt. One became two, two became three, then three somehow became half his closet. You were finally able to sleep comfortably with his scent filling your nose; his shirts enveloping your body in your bed. 

“In fact,” Elijah continues, “keep these two for now. I’ll wash the rest. At the end of the day, I’ll give you this one, okay?”

“Okay.”

“And please, love, come down and eat something. You need to keep up your strength.”

“But I just want to sleep, ‘Lijah.”

“I know, but your baby needs something, too. Just a snack. For me?”

“Okay.”

“There’s my good little girl,” he praises, kissing your forehead gently. He then hands you back two of his shirts, and you leap back in your bed before he can see the blush on your cheeks. “Eat something soon. I’ll be back to check on you.”

◇◇◇◇

At the end of the day, Elijah knocks on your door again to fulfill his promise. It’s nearing nine o’clock, so you’re groggy when you answer him. 

“Come in,” you say, rubbing your eyes. You wake up quickly, though, when you remember the agreement you made. 

Elijah enters, holding his worn dress shirt. “As promised, little wolf.”

You smile up at him before taking it, silently asking permission.

“Go ahead.”

His heart warms as he watches you. You take the shirt and immediately hurry back to your bed. Not caring that he can see, you begin to rearrange the nest you’ve made on your bed so that the newest addition to your pile can be closest to your body. For five minutes, you organize everything how you want it, changing the order several times after it doesn’t feel good enough the first. By the time you finally lay down, tonight’s promised shirt hugs alongside your body perfectly. You run the fabric against your cheek, taking in the scent, before letting out a content sigh. 

Elijah comes over to the edge of your bed, and you roll over on your back to look up at him. 

“Are you comfortable?”

“Yes.”

“Good.”

“Thank you,” you mutter.

“Of course,” he kisses your nose. Before he leaves, he takes one more glance at your relaxed form. “Sleep well, my little wolf.”

[tyudearyous]

dilly dally - c.s

pairing : choi san x reader

genre : fluff, angst

wc : 880

author's note : was in the mood of writing and had this idea for quite some time now so why not? LESGOOO. also, everything here is fiction and isn't accurate to the person! differentiate reality and fiction okay!!

🎵 for lovers who hesitate - jannabi

masterlist

...

"choi san. how much are you going to drink?"

your nagging rings on san's head continuously while he takes sips after sips of the alcohol in front of him. it was a random saturday when he had the sudden urge to drink and lose it all. well, it was a coping mechanism perhaps? it was his favorite way of coping with all the feelings he's experiencing.

he loved your company and he wished he could have it all the time. however, you were just friends. nothing more, nothing less.

"do you remember when we first met?"

a sudden urge to reminisce came over to san. he was pretty much wasted at this point. he was smiling at you, as you tried to remember the events of the past.

"it has been ten years so you probably don't"

he laughed slightly while sulking. he doesn't understand it. why does his heart hurt when you don't remember the events of the past? why is he this bothered? and oh. i'm crying, he thought.

"wait, why are you crying? wait wait i'm sorry, i only remember a bit that's why i was hesitating, oh come on sannie let's not cry okay?"

you comforted him in panic. he was a big emotional dude but even so, you just didn't expect he'd shed tears out of nowhere. you went over the table to sit next to him and wipe off the tears that were running down his cheeks. he then nuzzled into your shoulders and continued sobbing for some time. you let him be, because that's what friends do. right?

"i wish you loved me like i do"

his confession made you froze on the spot. he likes you? your best friend of almost a decade, had feelings for you?

"it's okay, i don't expect anything hic but can you pat me right now? i'm not asking for too much right?"

san looked up to your frozen expression. he knew he was fighting a losing battle. he knew it all too well but he'd do anything even for a moment. he'd do everything.

"i made you uncomfortable right"

he chuckled before moving away from you and continued finishing the bottle of alcohol he drank from previously. his cheeks are flushed and tears kept streaming down his face.

"san, i-"

"it's okay. i'd rather you not say anything more. i know it's just me hic, so let's just be friends hic. nothing more nothing less."

you couldn't answer him any further. it was the truth, it was just him, you never really saw him in that light. except for that time when you did but you never had the guts to do anything. he was supposed to be out of your league. it was supposed to be that way.

the situation was uncomfortable for the both of you. you decided to just leave his apartment to not make the situation worsen.

"stop drinking, i'll take my leave and don't cry too much. you'll puff up"

and with that you took your leave. leaving san in his room, alone with his feelings and emotions all over the place. normally you'd stay but you couldn't that day. it was supposed to be this way, right?

the walk home was difficult. you had to take in the fact that your best friend had feelings for you but you never noticed it and heck, you even buried your own feelings just because you were convinced he was not someone attainable to you. but with the new revelation, everything felt like it became a mess.

...

"did you fight with san?"

it feels like you've heard that question hundreds if not thousands of time this past few weeks. after the whole confession, you couldn't approach san that easily anymore. he needed space and you too. you haven't talked to each other for weeks now and it was weird at first but it was for the better.

"no, why?"

you always acted nonchalant, without fail anytime asked you about san. however, this act of yours is far too noticeable in the end. how could you leave someone who has always been there for you so easily? how can you act alright if deep down, you're just a mess?

that's exactly how you end up finding yourself hovering over your phone, deciding to send san a text explaining everything. it was selfish but losing him was hard for you and you couldn't handle it. thus, you sent him the text, hoping he'd reply.

hours passed, days passed, weeks passed, still no response. it was clear enough for you. he didn't want to do anything with you anymore. it's not his fault, it was never his fault. it was never your fault either. it was simply how things should unfold. it's fine. it's better this way. it was genuinely better this way.

or was it? or was it just you trying to convince yourself? whatever it is, that was how you lost both your best friend and your first love.

the end. or is it the end?

[rachetmath]

Robyn: So Arc-

Jaune: You can call me “Jaune”. I’ve been here for five months.

Robyn: Well okay. Jaune um… what’s your day like with Fiona.

Jaune: Normal.

Robyn: Really? Nothing’s going on with you two?

Jaune: No. I just help her out. That’s it.

Robyn: Really?

Jaune: Yes.

Somewhere else

Nora: So Fiona. How long have you and Jaune been a couple?

Fiona: We’re not couple. What makes you think that?

Nora: You see him everyday. More than me.

Fiona: He helps me with the orphanage.

Nora: Nothing else?

Fiona: No!

Jaune and Fiona were in the Orphanage.

???: Mr. Arc? Mr. Thyme?

Jaune: What is it Rex?

Rex: Are you and Ms. Thyme a couple?

Fiona: Oh my- Robyn!

Robyn appears only to have May and Nora with her.

Jaune: Nora, you too?!

Nora: Look d-

Jaune: Nora.

Nora: *forgot the kid* Oh.

Jaune: Rex go to your room.

Rex: Okay. *leaves*

Jaune: Now what the hell wrong with you two?

Fiona: Why are you so obsessed with this?

Robyn: Because you two-

May: Look Fiona I been watching you two a lot and I have to admit it’s hard not to believe you’re not dating. In fact, I wouldn’t be surpise to call you both a married couple.

Fiona: Ugh you too May. Seriously wat-

May: You and Jaune do Laundry together.

May: Spend time with kids together.

May: In fact, when Jaune’s training leads him to get hurt, you are the first to drag him to the nursery and patch him up. Even when he tells us “Don’t worry about it.”

May: In fact you two are always in the kitchen together making dinner.

May: And Jaune, boy what Nora told me about you was damn lie. I saw what you did. Slow dancing in the night.

Nora: He was that smooth?

May: Smooth as Micheal Jackson.

Nora: Oh no.

Fiona: Um.

Jaune: Damn.

Nora: Oh yes. Finally. Fuck you Pyrrha! He go get right. *pulls scroll out her pocket and makes a call*

???: Hello.

Nora: Fuck you Weiss. You lose. He found someone better. He found the princess and gone make her his queen.

Jaune: Nora, calm down.

Nora: Fuck off Jaune. This is my victory.

In the twilight.

Pyrrha: Okay bitch, what did I do?

Adam: I mean you left the guy and died a meaningless death like Summer.

Summer: I gave birth to another silver eyed warrior. That has to count.

Hazel: Does she know how to use her eyes though?

Summer: Shut up.

Ironwood: And she destroyed Atlas and got Penny, Vine, Clover and myself killed so she’s kind a misfortune upon us.

Summer: Okay ya’ll need to stop disrespecting my daughter. Ya’ll made mistake.

Ironwood: Or so you say.

Summer: We can fight. We can fight right now James.

Pyrrha: I don’t understand.

Penny: Friend Pyrrha you are the main source of his trauma and pain.

Pyrrha: B-you know what… fuck all you.

Roman: Whoa Invincible Champion, it’s not our fault your ‘boyfriend’ decided to break that little curse you placed on him.

Pyrrha: Oh come on- I’m leaving. I don’t need this.

Summer: My death had meaning. My daughter has a mystery to solve.

Adam: So finally one of your daughters is actually trying to know what happened to you. It’s too bad they have to find the same woman that took one of them many years to find.

Summer: Oh my god.

Roman: Not to mention at least Penny’s death served a purpose. Winter’s alive. She kept thousands of people alive. While your death, Pyrrha, caused more suffering than good.

Pyrrha: You know what who wants to fight first? Who? Cause I’ll show you why they written me off. Name one. Who can body me? Who?! Step up. STEP UP!

Adam: Oh I never run from no challenge. Especially no One-V-One, come on bitch.

[klaus-littlestwolf]

Can we have an imagine where Klaus actually accidentally cums in his pants when reader does or says something

Maybe he’s eating her out and ends up making a mess

I wan to see the reader tease his before sucking his off go clean her up

(Don’t do anything you aren’t comfortable with xx)

It’s Not a Big Deal-Klaus M

As well as this request I also had one for Klaus where Y/n didn’t know she could squirt as she had never done it until he ate her out, I don’t have the request but I combined them and I hope this works for both requests.

Btw, just for anyone wondering in the future, I never write anything I’m uncomfortable with, it just so happens I don’t really have anything I’m uncomfortable with😂. I’ll give just about everything a try and once you’ve written a fic about Klaus and his Omega fucking in wolf form you can write anything so don’t worry about offending me or anything🩷

To say that Klaus was good with his tongue would be an understatement, he knew what he could do to a women, he’s had a thousand years of practice after all. A thousand years of figuring out what makes a women feel best, though never once has he deprived himself in any way for any length of time. Women had always just fallen into his bed without a problem, it was common when you have looks like the Hybrid does.

Y/n was different though.

Klaus had fallen for Y/n accidentally, of course he wasn’t looking to fall for one of The Scooby Gangs friends but at least she wasn’t actively trying to kill him. Y/n stayed out of their ‘drama’ and when she met Klaus she hadn’t already decided he was pure evil. That doesn’t mean however, that she made it easy on him.

It took him a month and a half of flirting, coincidentally showing up wherever she was to spend time with her, and texting her sweet messages daily to get her to even agree to a date and of course he went all out for it. And of course he fucked it up.

Y/n wasn’t like the women he had ‘woo’ed in the past, she didn’t like expensive, fancy restaurants and being gifted jewelry, she was simple…he could do simple.

He apologized for taking her somewhere that had clearly made her uncomfortable and thankfully she agreed to let him try again, honestly she seemed to find it amusing how dead set he was on making her happy and he seemed to get it right the second time. He took her to a small clearing behind his house in the woods and after several comments and sureties that he wasn’t going to axe murder her they came upon the pile of blankets and pillows and a sheet hung up to project a movie on.

‘Wow…this is amazing.’ She gushed and he felt his wolf preening at her appreciation and enjoyment. He’d made his girl truly happy and he would make sure she stays that way.

Since becoming a full Hybrid he’s found things are different when it comes to women, his wolf feels strongly about them and usually it’s a hard ‘No’ from him. Caroline? No. Hayley? Hell No! The fact that his inner wolf didn’t like the wolf girl made Klaus think he could never be sated but that can’t be farther from the truth. He loves Y/n and he won’t let her get away.

‘I’m glad you like it. Dinner will be here in a few moments. Come sit.’ Klaus could see the happy smile on her face and he knew he had gotten it perfectly right, watching as she slid her shoes off and climbed into the nest like structure.

‘This is fucking awesome, we may have to sleep here tonight.’ She teased but he could also see she wasn’t really joking and he quickly texted Elijah the change of plans.

‘If that makes you happy, I would love to.’ He spoke, crawling in beside her and leaning back against the pile of pillows seeing her roll her eyes.

‘We would freeze out here Klaus-‘

‘Would I ever let you get hurt? No. I’m a werewolf, I radiate heat, and I can have a comforter brought out too. What other man can you say took you to sleep under the stars?’ He moved to pull up a fluffy blanket that he had picked up from the store, covering her lower body with it and watching her smile widen.

‘Definitely none. There was one date when I was a teenager but we only slept under the stars cause we were running through the woods from the cops after a Falls party and got lost. The stars were beautiful…not quite “passing out in the forest and waking up with leaves and dirt in my hair” beautiful but beautiful none the less.’ He couldn’t keep in the laugh, though he did try and she knew it was funny, laughing along with him.

‘Well, you told me what your favorite movie as a child was and since you were so upset that I hadn’t seen it I thought we would watch the Titanic together.’ Her eyes widened as she looked at him in shock.

‘You remembered? And you’re willing to watch nearly 4 hours of a romantic tragedy? What kind of man are you Niklaus Mikaelson?’ She said it in a joking manner but she was completely serious.

‘One who wants to see you smile love.’ He played the movie and watched her eyes light up in excitement as it came on, Elijah bringing out their dinner after about 10 minutes.

An hour later they were snuggled up under the thick blankets and while he had removed his shirt and pants to leave him in his boxer briefs she was in her panties and a tank top, not that he could see under the blankets but he could feel her naked legs entwined with his as the movie played and he knew regardless of the stupidity of this movie it was going to be one of his favorites after tonight. Even if all he got to do was snuggle her just like this for the rest of the night.

It wasn’t 5 minutes later that he gained enough courage to kiss her, his wolf practically purring just under the surface as she molded her lips with his hungrily. He had only meant to kiss her but she didn’t pull back, she pushed herself forward and wrapped her arms around his neck, his hands finding her waist where he pushed her shirt up to feel the soft skin up her back before she yanked the top off and left herself exposed to him. He wrapped his lips around her soft breast and his cock was practically weeping he was so hard so fast, throbbing in his boxers and begging for release.

Y/n’s fingers ran through his hair and he moaned as she tugged on it roughly. ‘Fuck Klaus! Please? Don’t stop. So good!’ The purr that he felt inside from his wolf became a rumble from deep within his chest as he kissed down her soft flesh to her pantie line, looking up for permission which Y/n gave quickly. ‘Definitely not like other men.’ She teased and he loved it.

‘Other men don’t want to taste this sweet pussy? I find that hard to believe.’ He spoke as he tossed the fabric away and dragged his tongue straight up her slit, finally getting a real taste of her as he has wanted since he first laid eyes on her 2 months ago.

‘Oh God! No! Just you, you crazy Hybrid!’ She squealed at the end as he sucked her clit into his mouth. She came almost as soon as he pushed his 2 fingers into her, tongue happily working her through it before trying to push her into another instantly. ‘Klaus! Fuck! Plea-Please?! Nik!’ His girl was practically riding his face, needy and desperate for everything he has to give her.

What Klaus didn’t really notice however, was how hard he was humping the make-shift nest, grinding down on it as his wolf howled in his head so loud he could feel nothing else but his blinding orgasm while his Princess squirt all over his tongue. It was as if his mouth had a mind of its own and continued working her through her end with his mouth on autopilot because he was on cloud nine, resting his head on her thigh as they both calmed down.

It only took another moment for him to feel the sticky mess made in his boxers. ‘Shit!’

He sat up, covering her so that she wouldn’t be cold before trying to find his pants. ‘Klaus? Are you okay-‘

‘Fine! You just relax and keep watching the movie, I need to…shit-‘

‘Nik, it’s okay.’ Y/n moved to push him onto his back and shove his pants away from his grip. ‘Nothing to be embarrassed about…I mean you’re 1000 years old so the last thing I expected was you jizzing your underwear like a 13 year old boy-‘ she giggled but stopped him before he could get up. ‘I’m sorry, I’m just teasing. I just squirt all over your face, we’re both embarrassed, okay?’ He scoffed, taking hold of the back of her neck and connecting their lips roughly.

‘That was incredibly hot, possibly the sexiest thing I’ve seen a women do. I just came all over myself like a desperate virgin, on our first date no less…I’m better than that.’ He was angry with himself and he knew Y/n could see it. It was like the wolf side of him was so needy for her that he couldn’t control his own body and fuck if that’s not humiliating!

‘All it means is that you’re attracted to me. You don’t normally do this? That means it’s an incredible compliment. And it’s definitely not a problem.’ She pushed him back down flat before moving down his body and pulling his boxer briefs off, tossing them out of the nest. ‘I’ll clean you up and we can go back to the movie…and maybe try again in a bit.’

She was teasing him, he knew it but for the first time he didn’t care. Any other girl he’s ever fucked would have laughed in his face for cumming like that, but besides a cute joke she didn’t even seem to care. It just made Klaus all the more determined to please her.

She licked her tongue up the underside of his cock which was painfully hard against his stomach. Her moan upon tasting him didn’t make it any better for him as he felt his cock twitch, causing her to giggle. ‘Oh Fuck!’ He gasped as she wrapped her lips around him, sucking every bit of his cum off of his flesh but she kept going even after being clearly finished. ‘Y/n! Such a sweet little tongue-Shit, keep going Kitten! You’re mouth is heaven!’ He didn’t know if this was the best blowjob he had ever had, or if he was perceiving it as such just because he was undeniably already in love with her, but either way he feels like he’s dying in the best possible way.

She pulled from him with a ‘pop’ and looked up at him, hand pumping him a few times. ‘No more embarrassment. Promise?’ He nodded desperately, needing that hot little tongue back on his heated flesh.

‘Yes! From either of us!’ Her lips wrapped around the sensitive tip of his cock and suckled hard, tongue pressed against his slit causing a desperate cry as his hips thrust up, her pulling back to look at him. ‘Shit Babygirl, I’m gonna fuck that pussy so hard my family will think I’m fucking killing you! I’m gonna make you scream Kitten!’ Y/n could see his eyes glow gold just for a moment and knew that his wolf was just below the surface. She’s seen it almost every time she’s in Klaus’ presence and she doesn’t mind it, though she’s not sure what it means for their current activities…

She tilted her head teasingly before smiling. ‘What are you waiting for then Alpha?’ She teased, his eyes darkening before she was suddenly pinned under him with her legs being spread as wide as they could be.

‘You just had to tease, didn’t you?’ That was all the warning she got before Klaus took hold of his cock and shoved himself balls deep into her cunt.

‘Ahh! Too Much-‘

‘Good. Let everyone hear you!’ He growled, giving her another second to get used to him before pulling back and driving his hips to hers again and again.

‘Nik-‘

‘I want the whole of Mystic Falls to hear you Kitten! My family! My Hybrids! And Every Single One of your friends!’ He wrapped his arms around her waist and lifted her up as he sat back on his knees, driving up into her body roughly. ‘I want them all to know who owns this cunt by tomorrow! No one will dare even look at you again, they’ll all know who you belong to!’

Klaus could feel that he wasn’t in complete control-not that he couldn’t have stopped if he wanted to-but his wolf was desperate for his girl and he was going to have her! To make her his and ensure she never wanted for anything but him again.

‘Klaus! Fuck-don’t stop baby! So close…please?’ She was begging for him and he felt his cock twitch, ready to spill into her warm cunt but he grit his teeth before digging them, hybrid visage and all, into her neck as gently as he could. As he did she cried out, her tight pussy clamping down onto his thick cock so hard he almost thought it hurt, apart from the blinding pleasure that shot up his spine overwhelming him as he buried himself as deep into her as he could and began filling her up. He didn’t remember ever cumming this much in his very long life, maybe it’s a result of fucking someone as a full Hybrid, Y/n had been the only one he’s been interested in since turning 4 months ago. Maybe it’s because 4 months is the longest he’s gone without sex since he turned into a vampire over 1000 years ago, but something told him that wasn’t it. Something told him that wolfy part of his brain and body was marking his mate as much as he could, filling her with so much cum that his cock was aching inside of her by the time it finally stopped twitching. Filling her to the point it leaked back out around him as if ensuring she would be carrying his baby tomorrow, and something about that thought had Klaus purring into her neck in contentment, the thought of his girl swollen with his child was an image he never knew could excite him but Fuck if it wasn’t a sexy picture. ‘So f-full…do-do all werewolves cum this much?’

‘No…it seems to be a hybrid thing…but we’ll need to test it a few more times to be sure.’ He kissed along her neck, licking over the bite wound to clean up the drops of blood before pulling back. ‘Drink.’ He instructed, biting his wrist and bringing it to her mouth. He felt his Hybrid visage take over again as she listened to him without question, making a part of his brain very happy and needy to fuck her again.

‘I’m sure you have enough research to answer the question by now.’ He could tell his Kitten was exhausted even before she yawned and he nuzzled into her hair, rolling her on top of him and wrapping the blankets around them.

‘I don’t actually.’ He tried not to feel embarrassed as he told her this, since he promised not to.

‘Really? But it’s been…you were with Stefan for 2 months and..?’

‘I was busy, and after they didn’t work I was angry, and when I came back…I found you. You’re mine Y/n. All mine.’ He could see how hard she tried to push back the tears that welled up and she did, sighing contently and laying onto his chest.

‘All yours Nik.’ He felt her press her lips over his heart before laying back down to sleep and he was truly content to drift off with his Kitten in his arms. He finally had her…God save anyone who tries to take her away.

Klaus Mikaelson Masterlist