#And all I could say was I am NOT missing moments-ing this

[simsdaughters]

NANCY LANDGRAAB.

[hellodropbear]

homesick.

ingrid engen x mapi leon x child

isabel's first international camp.

this is a long one but i hope you enjoy and i hope it's up to scratch!

pls give me more requests i love them and i am slowly getting through them i promise

heaps of uni at the moment though so might take a while for me to get them out :)

~~~~~~

Isabel had been on a plane before. 

She had sat by the window many times, staring out the window as the buildings below got smaller and smaller, until all she could see was the bright lights in the distance. 

Ingrid and Mapi are professional football players, on a plane nearly every week. They also loved to travel, around Spain, to other countries in Europe. 

Up to Norway to visit Ingrid's home, her family. Everything she knew as she grew up. 

But usually, Mapi was on the plane too, right beside her with her bag full of toys and snacks. 

But today, Mapi was one of those people getting smaller and smaller in the distance and instead it was Ingrid beside her, Ingrid with the snacks and toys that would be more than enough to keep the child occupied for two days, let alone the two hours that they'd spend on the plane before touching down in the Scandinavian country. 

It was weird for the child, flying away from her Mami. It was 10 days away from her and the last time she had spent a night away she had cried so much that Mapi had to come stay at Alexia's as well. 

But that was back when she had only just turned 3. 

She was 4 now and both Mapi and Ingrid were confident that the child would be perfectly happy with the Norwegian, the centre back often complaining that Ingrid was the favourite even though Mapi was the one who gave birth to her, the one who raised her alone for 14 months. 

"You should have come here earlier," Mapi would say "You left me alone with a baby!"

Ingrid would blush profusely, overwhelmed with love and adoration for the two, as well as a huge amount of gratitude that they chose her - that they let her become part of their tiny family. 

In saying that, sending Isabel to Norway with Ingrid was an almost impossible decision for Mapi and she had spent weeks debating the idea in her head, with Ingrid, Alexia, her family. 

Everyone had said the same thing. 

Ingrid loved Isabel and Isabel loved Ingrid. Their family of two was becoming a family of three and all three of them loved each other an exponential amount. 

It wasn't sending Isabel to Norway, it was letting her go on a trip with Ingrid, something she had been begging for since she was old enough to understand why the Norwegian left every couple of months. 

The whole problem was her cousin's wedding, a child free event that Mapi's entire family would be at. 

She never got to see her whole family together, especially now she was dating Ingrid and they shared their already limited time between both Ingrid and Mapi's families. 

But this wedding coincidentally fell on an international break, the perfect opportunity to see everyone for a few days of uninterrupted celebration. 

It was just a shame that no children were invited. 

Mapi understood the reasons why, but it left her with the problem of where her daughter could go. 

She told Ingrid she'd miss the wedding, but the Norwegian had rolled her eyes, immediately telling her girlfriend to stop being stupid, that she'd take Isabel to Norway with her. 

Initially, the Spaniard was completely against the idea.

But eventually she agreed, which is how Ingrid found herself with an overexcited toddler bouncing in her seat as the plane touched down in Norway, gripping onto Ingrid's wrist with an overwhelmingly large grin on her face. 

"Excited, Is?"

Ingrid smiled amusedly at the brunette, placing her hand on her curly hair to try and calm her down. 

It was an impossible task though, because Isabel just nodded enthusiastically, her head almost falling off at the speed at which she moved her head up and down. 

She was still excited as the plane emptied out, as she bounced down the aisle, her hand tight in Ingrid's as they exited the plane and walked on the tarmac, shivering with a smile at the cool autumn air. 

She knew that Norwegian summers were a lot colder than the summer back home, but the autumn was event colder and Isabel didn't realise how much the climate would drop in the four months since they last visited. 

She bounded alongside the tall Norwegian, only slowing down to a walk when Ingrid's hand moved from her hand to her shoulder, physically slowing her down.

"It's an airport, Is, you have to stay with me so you don't get lost, alright?"

She nodded, grinning up at Ingrid who just smiled at her, unable to wipe away her grin when the giddy child was accompanying her to Norway. 

She stared out the window throughout the whole drive from the airport to the hotel, clutching onto Ingrid's hand as they entered the building, full of other people in Norway clothes that matched Ingrid.

"Ingrid." 

She tugged on her shirt, coming to a stop just inside of the doors. 

"What's wrong, Is?"

Her smile had been replaced with an anxious frown that Ingrid had immediately caught onto, waiting for the child to say something. 

"What if... what if I forget my Norwegian?"

Ingrid crouched down, moving a stray hair out of Isabel's forehead. Her hand stayed on her head as she smiled shaking her head. 

"It will be ok. I can translate for you, yeah?"

She waited as Isabel nodded hesitantly before continuing. 

"Besides, your Norwegian is so good I don't think you'd be able to forget it! You're so smart, Is!"

Isabel nodded, biting her lip and Ingrid realised that she was actually quite nervous. Deciding to take a different approach, she stood up and pulled Isabel into a room off the side, sitting down in front of her and motioning for her to sit down as well. 

"What are you doing, Ingrid?"

"We're going to go through some Norwegian."

And that's what they did for the next half hour, they went through Norwegian words and phrases that Isabel already knew, Ingrid tickling her every time she got something right. 

She was successful in cheering the four year old up, her peals of laughter audible from all over the first floor of the hotel. 

With a newfound confidence and a refreshed excitement, Isabel gripped onto Ingrid's hand as they wandered out of the little side room and towards the Norwegian media team who were ready and waiting with their cameras.

Ingrid's hand over her face did little to stop the child from using some of her Norwegian words though, pushing the protective hand away and grinning up at the people behind the cameras.

"Hei! Jeg er Isabel og dette er min Ingrid!"

~~~~~~

She successfully charmed all of the Norwegian staff upon their first meeting, following Ingrid all the way up to their room with a smile on her face. She was happy to see a little bed beside Ingrid's big one, dumping her bag on it before bounding over to the other side of the room and throwing herself on the big bed.

Ingrid smiled, shaking her head with a sigh and pulling the child back, away from the bed and towards the bathroom. 

"It's bath time, Is!"

The child sighed disappointedly, following the Norwegian and sitting on the chair in the bathroom as Ingrid filled up the bathtub with water and soap. 

"Soo..." The child swung her legs beneath the chair, catching Ingrid's attention before continuing. "What do you normally do when I'm not here?"

Ingrid shrugged, smiling. 

"Usually I'll get into bed and miss you and your Mami! It's why I am always calling in the nights when I'm away, because I'm not busy and I'm by myself which makes me miss you more."

Isabel jumped down from the chair, standing beside where Ingrid was sitting on the ledge of the bath. 

"Can we call Mami after bath time?"

Ingrid nodded. 

"She would be sad if we didn't!" 

The bath was full, and Isabel held Ingrid's hand for stability as she climbed in, sinking down into the warm water with a satisfied sigh, leaning into Ingrid's large and soft hand. 

The Norwegian pulled her out of the bath when there was more water on the bathroom floor and Ingrid than there was in the bath, complaining loudly about getting everything wet. 

She giggled as Ingrid dried her off, carrying her in her towel over to where she'd dumped her backpack, pulling out the pyjamas that had been strategically placed right at the top of the bag. 

"Cuddles?"

Ingrid smiled. To be fair, the child looked comfortable in her fuzzy pyjamas, tucked underneath the blankets of Ingrid's bed and surrounded by a barricade of pillows. She took a quick picture, shaking her head. 

"We are going to ring Mami now, and then I'll have my own shower. Cuddles soon, though!" 

It satisfied Isabel, who immediately perked up even more at the though of her mother on the other side of the phone. Mapi picked up after the first ring and Ingrid immediately passed the phone off to the child. 

"Mami!" 

She grinned down the phone, holding it up so only her mouth was visible in the camera. Ingrid laughed, setting up a pillow in front of the child as a stand and resting the phone there so Mapi could actually see the child. 

"Hola mi pequena!" 

Mapi was in bed, the night light on but the rest of her room dark. 

"I miss you so much already, Is!"

Isabel nodded, her face falling only slightly. 

"I miss you too, Mami." She frowned, biting her lip. "I wish you could come with me and Ingrid."

Ingrid left them to it, having her own shower. She could hear Isabel's giggles from the bathroom as she got ready for bed, Mapi's animated voice also audible through the closed door. 

The Norwegian knew how lucky she was to have gained the dynamic duo when she moved to Barcelona. She never expected to find love in the warm city, let alone a child too. It was something that came completely unexpectedly, but something she also couldn't imagine her life without. 

Despite still not living with them, she was there every day. She would put Isabel to bed, read her stories, feed her dinner. She was there when she woke up, making breakfast and feeding the dog. 

She went on every walk to the park, a daily event that had become something of a ritual to the small family, the park meaning so much to them.

She was often mistaken as a mother, a balanced amount of fun, discipline and care. 

It was a soft topic, really. 

Ingrid wished more than anything that Isabel saw her as a mother, that all her thoughts and anxieties would be validated. She didn't want to just be Mapi's girlfriend, she wanted to be a mother too. 

Mapi told her that she was being silly, of course Ingrid was Isabel's mother as well. 

"You don't look after a child this much, you don't watch her grow from a baby to a child without being a mother." Mapi would insist. "You arrived when she was still so little. You and I are all she knows. We are both her mothers."

Ingrid would shake her head because it all seemed so wrong. If she was a mother, she wouldn't be called Ingrid. She would be on those forms from school and would receive the emails about Isabel's progress too. 

But she didn't, because she wasn't a mother. 

She finished up in the bathroom, but remained behind the door for a few more minutes, just listening to Mapi and Isabel interact, hearing how the centre back spoke to her child with so much adoration, so much love. How she listened to everything Isabel said and how Isabel hung onto Mapi's words like they came straight out of god's mouth. 

She heard the laughter, the happiness. She could see the smiles on their faces despite the wall that blocked her vision. 

But when she walked out, Isabel's smile brightened, shuffling over to make space for her. 

"Ingrid just came back, Mami!" 

The Norwegian moved into the camera frame, Mapi's face softening at the sight of her girlfriend. 

"Hola my love."

Ingrid blushed, her hand coming to rest around Isabel as they chatted away, allowing the child to slowly drift off as the two defenders spoke calmly through the phone. She was fighting to stay awake to listen but felt her eyes drooping as she became limp in Ingrid's arms. 

"Night Mami. Night Ingrid."

Ingrid.

~~~~~~

Isabel woke up before Ingrid the next morning, full of childish excitement about the day ahead. It was exciting, being here with Ingrid, and she wanted to make the most of every day. 

But she didn't want to wake Ingrid up from her sleep so instead she got out her drawing book and pencils, pulling Ingrid's phone off charge and calling Mapi simultaneously. 

It was the morning, so why wouldn't she say good morning to her mother like she had done every single morning of her life?

But Mapi was confused when her phone started ringing at 7am, frowning at her girlfriend's name that lit up the phone. 

She had planned on sleeping in until noon, probably, only rolling out of bed when absolutely necessary - to reluctantly go for a run or to the gym. The Spaniard had not expected this early morning wake up call and her stomach dropped, immediately assuming there was something wrong. 

"Ingrid?" It was a facetime call, but Mapi could only see the roof in the frame, the phone not held up properly. 

"Hola Mami!" 

Despite the low volume, the four year old's voice was way too cheerful for this early in the morning. 

"Isabel, what are you doing on Ingrid's phone? Why are you awake so early?"

The child frowned at her mother's chides, biting her lip and shrugging. 

"To say mornin', mami! And I'm being extra quiet with my voice because I don't wanna wake Ingrid up."

Mapi smiled, her heart melting all over again at her own daughter's words. 

"Ok, Is. What are you going to do while you wait for Ingrid to wake up?"

She didn't answer verbally, instead picking up the phone and awkwardly angling it onto the empty page in front of her. 

"'M drawing!" 

Mapi could only chuckle, settling down in her bed and resting her phone on the pillow as she spoke easily to her daughter. 

She laughed even more as Ingrid's alarm went off, the surprise making Isabel jump right out of her skin before she made a quick recovery, scampering off towards the big bed and poking Ingrid on the side. 

"I know, Is, wake up time."

She heard Mapi's laughter, frowning in confusion as her eyes opened slowly. She was in Norway, Mapi was in Spain? It was too early to realise that the laughter was actually just coming through a phone speaker. 

"Morning sleepyhead." 

Ingrid's eyes scanned the room, searching for the source of her girlfriend's voice before they finally landed on the table on the other side of the room, a full set up of paper and pencils, Ingrid's phone laying face up beside. 

"Did you ring Mami, Is?"

She sat up, her feet coming to rest on the floor beside the bed and her hand reaching around Isabel's waist as the child nodded guiltily. 

"I say mornin' to Mami every day!" 

Ingrid sighed, standing up and walking over to the table, chuckling at Mapi's tired face as she lay in bed, her hair a mess and the blanket tucked up to her chin. 

"You don't have to sleep with the air conditioning on when I'm not there, Maria."

The Norwegian smiled lightly. It was a passing comment she made a couple years ago about how she liked sleeping in colder rooms. Ever since, Mapi had insisted on the air conditioning being turned on despite her own preference for the warmth. 

She would say Ingrid would warm her up, that Ingrid is her princesa, she had to have the best conditions. 

But Ingrid wasn't even in the country and the Spaniard was clearly cold in her bed despite her best efforts to cover up with the duvet. 

She shook her head, her face falling momentarily. 

"I like it." 

Ingrid's voice melted at how soft Mapi's voice was, wanting nothing more than to wrap her up in a hug and warm her up herself. 

"We slept in the cold too!" 

Isabel had climbed as high as she could on Ingrid until the Norwegian relented, helping her up and holding her on her side.

"Were you cold, Is?" Ingrid frowned slightly, worried that she had made the room too cold. Changing the thermometer was a habit, she realised. 

"No, because you are so warm, Ingrid!" 

Mapi smiled, her forehead creasing with happiness and perhaps a little bit of jealousy.

She missed the pair of them, of course she did. She didn't realise how empty her world would be without her daughter until she got home from the airport, no child to feed, to put to bed, to entertain.

No reason to watch cartoons on the TV either, but she found herself tempted to switch on the inane shows that Isabel loved so much.

She didn't need to leave the bedroom door open because there was no chance that Isabel would wake up in the night and want to come and sleep in her bed, but she left it open out of habit, only realising that it was pointless once she had already buried herself under the covers of the inanely cold room.

It was never as warm when she wasn't in Ingrid's arms.

There was nobody to talk to when she was curled up in bed, nobody to laugh with or cry with. She wasn't used to going about her day alone, not used to being so unoccupied, so bored. 

The silence was too eerie for Mapi as she sat on the sofa, even Baloo and Bagheera suffering from the absence of the energetic and excitable child and the calming Norwegian.

But they were in Norway, perfectly content away from home and without the comfort of their Mapi, right there whenever they wanted it.

It was devastating, really, realising that Isabel didn't need her anymore. It felt like just yesterday that she had sobbed her heart out at Alexia's, only calming down when her Mami was in sight, content to be warmed by the tattooed arms.

Apparently, Ingrid noticed the way Mapi's eyes glazed over slightly, her features softening as she read the situation with practiced ease.

"It would have been warmer with Mami here though, right?"

Isabel frowned slightly, looking at her mother through the phone screen.

She nodded, looking back up at Ingrid.

"Mami has the warmest arms, Ingrid. She makes me so warm."

Mapi had to hold back her tears, smiling gratefully at Ingrid who could only nod with pride.

"You make me warm too, my lion cub."

~~~~~~

Their phone call with Mapi lasted a while, she stayed on facetime as they both changed and as Ingrid braided Isabel's hair back for the day. She was very proud of herself, wearing a Norway jersey that Ingrid had adjusted to fit her. It was a match worn one and was entirely too big when she first put it on, but she refused to wear anything else to support Ingrid when she was playing with her country.

Ingrid had pulled out her sewing needles, shortening the length and sleeves. It still swallowed the child, but at least she could wear it without the hem getting in the way of her legs when she walked.

She was excited to show off the big 7 on her back, the name that belonged to her Ingrid.

It was her claim to the brunette in front of all the Norwegian players and she was so sure they would be so impressed that she was so close with their coveted midfielder.

She had a grin on her face as they went through the Norwegian phrases she had learnt and as she pestered Ingrid about the different players that she would be meeting today. She knew Caro, of course, but that was all. She had seen the others on TV, from a distance when she came to watch with Mapi.

But not once had she met any of them, always slightly anxious around new people and entirely unconfident in her Norwegian speaking and comprehending abilities. She never believed Mapi or Ingrid when they told her it would be ok, that Ingrid could translate.

It was Norwegian or nothing for the child.

Ingrid assumed that was the reason why Isabel's grip on her hand tightened significantly as they walked down the corridor. She assumed it was why her leg suddenly became the best hiding spot the child could think of.

There was no other explanation as to why her entire demeanour changed as soon as they left the room, from the excited and optimistic child she knew to an anxious and stoic child that she could barely recognise.

She knew better than to say anything though, knowing that if she started crying now she likely wouldn't stop until they were alone again. Unfortunately, that wasn't an option for Ingrid because she had to train, she couldn't just sit with Isabel all day.

As much as she would love to.

It was on purpose that they were the first in the dining room for breakfast, allowing them to make their way through the buffet slowly and sit on an empty table.

Isabel perked up when she noticed the empty room but it was only brief as slowly, all of the players trickled in, their voices loud and fast.

Ingrid squeezed the little girl closer to her, her heart breaking at the way Isabel tensed in her lap.

"Look, Is!" Ingrid pointed over at the door. "Caro's just arrived!"

She forced on a smile, her hands shaking and her breathing rapid.

"Hei, Caro." She whispered softly, not registering that the familiar face was on the other side of the room, completely occupied by the unfamiliar figure approaching.

"Ingrid." She tugged on the brunette's shorts, reaching her arms towards her. Ingrid understood exactly what she was asking for, pulling her onto her lap and wrapping her arms around her.

It was Frida who sat beside Ingrid, smiling as she placed her plate on the table and pulled her chair in.

"It's just Frida, Is, she's not scary at all." The brunette smiled apologetically at Frida as she loosened her hold on Isabel, encouraging her to look at the blonde.

She turned, a shy smile on her face as she leaned into Ingrid.

"Hi Isabel!" She grinned, quickly making Isabel more comfortable. "I can't believe I'm finally meeting you! Ingrid has told me so much about you."

She spoke in slow Norwegian, praying that the child would understand. She had heard all about her problems with confidence in the language - it was the only reason she hadn't met her before.

The blonde felt herself relax in relief as Isabel nodded, replying in hesitant Norwegian.

"Nice to meet you, Frida."

Ingrid grinned, placing a kiss on the top of Isabel's head which prompted the child to look up for affirmation.

"Good?"

"Perfect, Is! I'm so proud of you."

Frida could only smile at their interaction, completely aware of how much Ingrid adored the little girl, how much she worried that she would never be enough for her.

Frida knew she was more than enough. 

The table filled up slowly, but Isabel buried her head back into Ingrid again, apparently too scared to meet anyone else during breakfast. It changed slightly as they left the dining hall when she spotted Caro from afar, scampering over to the familiar forward and barging into the back of her legs.

Ingrid thanked her Barcelona teammate when Isabel was deposited at her room maybe five minutes later, waving goodbye to the child.

They didn't have long in the room, just enough time for Ingrid to change into her training clothes and quickly throw some paper, pencils and snacks in Isabel's backpack.

"If you get bored or tired or feel sick or anything, min elske, come straight to me, alright? Or you can find Caro if you want but make sure you tell someone so we can help you, alright?"

It was the same deal as at Barcelona training. Her time spent at training had decreased dramatically since starting school and usually Camila was there with her, but she would always sit on a rug under the same tree, occupying herself with drawing or colouring or another miscellaneous activity when she became bored of watching the football.

Usually, Baloo was right beside her, her leash tied onto the tree which allowed her a little bit of room to roam freely when Isabel wasn't holding her favourite animal.

But Baloo wasn't there and neither were the people that Isabel knew, the people she was comfortable enough with to say when something was wrong. Usually, things didn't go wrong.

But it was clear that the child was on edge, her emotions all over the place as she adjusted to Norway and all these new people.

"Phone to call Mami?"

She looked up hopefully and Ingrid smiled, putting her phone in the front pocket of the bag.

"To call Mami, Is. Don't play with this because if it breaks we won't be able to talk to her at all!"

Isabel nodded, letting Ingrid put the backpack on her back.

"Go time?"

The midfielder nodded, ignoring Isabel's hand that reached out to grab Ingrid and instead picking her up, settling her on her hip and holding her easily with one hand.

"Mami says I'm too big to be carried, Ingrid."

Ingrid laughed quietly, planting a soft kiss on her head.

"Maybe. But you'll always be our little girl."

~~~~~~

It turned out that Ingrid was worried for a good reason.

She had kept an eye on Isabel for most of training as she watched them train, as she did her drawing. She watched some, drew for a bit, over and over again. It was a cycle, really, and she wasn't getting bored.

But apparently she tried to call Mapi and Mapi didn't pick up.

That is where the tears had come from. That is why Caro had run the few metres over immediately picking her up and carrying her out of the view of the rest of the Norwegian players, Ingrid following quickly behind. 

She was inconsolable because she wanted to talk to her Mami, because she missed her Mami.

Mapi said she would pick up the phone when she called, she had promised her child that she was the most important thing in her life and that she would drop anything if she saw Ingrid's name come up on her phone.

It was why Isabel had been so keen to come to Norway, reassured over and over again that if anything went wrong, if she was sad, scared or just wanted to hear Mapi's voice she would be able to call and hear it.

But she had called and Mapi hadn't picked up. She remembers frowning, looking around and calling again.

And again.

And again.

By the fourth time, her hands were shaking.

By the fifth, she had to bite her lip to stop it from trembling so much.

By the sixth, there were tears in her eyes, beginning to slowly slip down her face.

But the seventh was the final straw, it seemed, and as soon as the straw was pulled out the child collapsed into sobs. Cries for her Mami, for her home.

Loud cries in Spanish, desperate for the home comfort of being able to speak her first language without worrying about any language barriers. 

Crying because she called seven times and Mapi hadn't picked up once. She said she would drop anything, because Isabel was the most important. She promised.

But she didn't.

Maybe she'd been in Norway too long. Maybe Mapi realised how much easier her life was without her daughter, how much better.

It was only day one. 

She knew she missed home, but it felt so far away.

Even as Ingrid held her close and rocked her as she had done so many times before. As she whispered quiet Spanish as the cries quietened down, allowing Isabel to whimper in her arms instead. 

"M-mami didn't pick up, Ingrid." The hurt in her voice was almost painful for Ingrid to hear. "Mami has more important things now I'm gone from her."

Immediately, Ingrid shook her head because there was no way she would let Isabel think that was true in even the slightest. 

Because everybody in Mapi's life knew that the little girl she called her daughter was the number one top priority at all times. There were never excuses, never changes. 

She was Mapi's everything and Ingrid knew that if the Spaniard caught wind of her daughter thinking this she would be completely and utterly heartbroken. 

It wasn't true. 

It was perhaps one of the most blindingly false statements Ingrid had ever heard. 

"That is not true, Isabel, and I don't want you to ever think or say that again."

Her voice was stern and left no room for questions and Isabel whimpered quietly.

"Mami loves you so, so much, Is. You will always be the most important thing in her life."

Her voice softened easily, but she frowned as Isabel held up seven of her fingers. 

"This many times. She didn't pick up."

Ingrid adjusted Isabel's position, facing her and looking her straight in the eye. 

"She might be driving, she might have left her phone in her room. She didn't ignore you, I promise."

The child looked up at her, the tearful eyes hopeful. 

"Promise?"

She held out her pinky which Ingrid shook gently. 

"I promise."

~~~~~~

Ingrid thinks that the whole incident may have been what triggered the homesickness. 

She wasn't sleeping in her own bed at all, only settling after hours of fidgeting and whimpering in Ingrid's arms, waking up after a couple hours of restless sleep.  

She was tearful all the time, always clinging onto Ingrid, reluctantly releasing her whenever she had to train. 

She only ate what was practically forced down her throat, claiming she was full, that she didn't feel hungry. 

Mapi thinks it is her fault, she shouldn't have gone to the wedding, she should have picked up the phone that day. It's all she can think about as she sits through the ceremony, almost booking a flight from her seat at the reception. 

But Ingrid was telling her not to, that it'd all be ok. She could deal with it for a few more days while the wedding was still on and Mapi could come afterwards if she wasn't getting any better.

But Ingrid desperately wanted to prove she could do this, she wanted to show Mapi and everyone else that she was a perfectly sufficient guardian to Isabel too. She had been there for so long but people still questioned it, questioned why she was so close with the little girl. 

It seemed so obvious to the Norwegian. She loved Mapi, she loved Isabel. Surely a further explanation was unnecessary. 

Mapi was entirely ridden with guilt, having left her phone in her hotel room as she reunited with her family. It was stupid, she knew, but she just hadn't been thinking. 

Ingrid's attempts to stop her from beating herself up about it were futile, especially since Isabel stopped trying to call, only speaking to Mapi when Ingrid held her and called the centre back before bed. 

She was scared, she didn't want to experience that rejection again. 

Match day came and so did Gudrun, only allowed into the hotel that morning so Ingrid could focus on the game. She was starting and the staff had told her no distractions, not until after the game was finished. 

Isabel loved Gudrun, the older Norwegian always spoiling and doting over the little girl with the bright eyes and big smile. It was unusual for Ingrid's mother to see Isabel so sad, so stoic when she arrived, malleable in Ingrid's arms as she was passed off. 

"She's homesick, Mama." Ingrid frowned and Gudrun could only stroke the top of her head. "She misses Mapi but won't call because there was an incident a few days ago where Mapi didn't pick up."

Gudrun smiled weakly, trying to silently reassure her daughter. 

"She'll be alright." She looked down at the child. "Have you had fun with Ingrid this week?"

Isabel looked over at the tall Norwegian who tried to hide the exhaustion from her face. It had been another restless night. 

She nodded easily, smiling. 

"Ingrid holds me when I can't sleep. And she let me use her as my climbing frame all week. So much fun with Ingrid."

Ingrid could have cried but she held it back, Gudrun smiling proudly at her daughter. 

"Ingrid is one of my favourite people in the world."

Isabel agreed easily. 

"Me too!" 

Gudrun hugged her daughter goodbye, letting Isabel place a kiss on her cheek before they left, heading out to the park for the few hours they had before the game. 

She played on the playground for a bit but retreated back to Gudrun when she couldn't communicate with the other children. All the people she had spoken to so far slowed down, aware that she was a Spanish child and Norwegian was her second or third language. 

The strangers on the playground didn't know that, so they couldn't communicate. 

And the Norwegian could easily read the situation as Isabel flopped onto the bench beside her, her sigh entirely too emotional for a four year old 

"What's bothering you, Isabel?"

She huffed again, climbing into Gudrun's lap and leaning backwards. 

"I miss Mami and Spain." She missed playing in the park with other kids, she missed being able to sit between Mapi and Ingrid after dinner, watching cartoons. She missed Patri and Pina teasing her and she missed Alexia and Frido's hugs. She missed the familiarity of home and she missed knowing all the players at training. She missed the freedom she had at the Barcelona campus and she missed her dog and cat. 

"I know you do. Mami and Spain miss you too."

But Isabel frowned, still stuck on the reason why her Mami didn't pick up the phone even though she tried so many times. 

"But-" She trailed off but Gudrun hummed encouragingly. "But Mami said she would pick up..."

Gudrun sighed quietly, hugging the child closer. 

"That doesn't mean she doesn't miss you, Isabel. She misses you so much."

"I haven't seen her in so long, I am scared she forgot."

"Forgot what?" Gudrun frowned easily, concerned about where her thoughts were. 

"Me." Isabel's voice was impossibly quiet as her eyes filled up with tears and Gudrun's heart broke at how small she sounded. 

She had a split second to decide how to deal with this. She could pass the problem onto Ingrid or Mapi, or she could deal with it herself and maybe help out the young couple. She could smile and tell Isabel that everything was perfect and happy and Mapi loved her or she could be more serious and try to get through to the child. 

So she sighed, adjusting Isabel on her lap so they were looking at each other. 

"I'm Ingrid's Mami, you know that right?"

Isabel nodded, staring up at the Norwegian. 

"And I live in Norway. Ingrid lives in Spain with you, doesn't she?"

The child nodded again, unsure where this was going. 

"Ingrid moved away when she was young, a long time ago. And I was so sad. So sad. I missed her every single day and my heart hurt because my little girl didn't feel like my little girl anymore. She had grown up."

"Mami said I would always be her little girl."

Isabel frowned, not able to draw any comparisons.

"And Ingrid is still mine. But like Ingrid did, you're growing up. This is your first time away from your Mami, and you are so far away from her for such a long time."

Isabel nodded. 

"I miss Mami a lot."

"Ingrid's first time away from home was when she was 11, a week in a place 4 hours away. I cried every night because I missed my little girl so much. And I know your Mami is the same. She is so sad without you, Is. You are so little and you are all she cares about. You are absolutely everything to your Mami and she misses every single thing about you."

Isabel's lip trembles, her eyes beginning to water. 

"And she missed your calls. She is so angry with herself because she didn't pick up because she would have much preferred to talk to you than to talk to anyone at that wedding. You are so important to her and you always will be. Just like Ingrid is so important to me."

Isabel nodded, taking a deep breath.

"You talk to Ingrid whenever she calls?"

Gudrun nodded easily. 

"And I get so excited because I love talking to her so much. But sometimes I miss calls too. Sometimes Ingrid gets upset and I am angry at myself. I love her so much and instead of picking up her calls I was busy with something that was nowhere near as important. Because nothing is as important to me as my children. Since they were born and until I die, they will always be first. And do you know why?"

"Because you love them." 

Gudrun nodded. 

"Because I love them." She confirmed with a nod. "And Mami missed your call, but she didn't mean to. I have missed Ingrid's calls before even though I love her so much."

"Mami loves me."

Gudrun smiled, pulling her in for a hug. 

"Yes, Mami loves you so so much. She misses how you feel in her arms, she misses the way you smell, she misses the way your eyes light up when you see something that excites you. She misses catching you when you run into her after school, she misses holding you after a game and watching you with her friends."

"How do you know all this."

"Because I am a Mami too. Mami's are all the same, we all love every single thing about our children."

Isabel nodded, silent for a moment before taking a deep breath. 

"Does Ingrid... does she love me like that too? Because I think I love her like I love Mami."

Gudrun squeezed her tighter, not a shadow of a doubt in her answer. There was no hesitation whatsoever.

"Of course she does."

Isabel was quiet again. Ingrid was Ingrid. She wasn't Mami, because that was Mapi. She wasn't Mama... because she was Ingrid.

But why was she just Ingrid? Why wasn't she Mama. She was like Mapi, really. She played a lot, cooked meals. Dropped her at school and picked her up sometimes too. 

She had rules for Isabel, things she could and could not do. When Isabel broke the rules, she would tell her off, just like Mapi would. She would give her consequences, although she was much better at sticking to them than Mapi. 

Isabel knew she didn't have a Papi like her friends at school. She had a Mami instead. 

And an Ingrid. 

"I think I love Ingrid like a Mami too."

~~~~~~

Apparently, Gudrun's words got through to Isabel, who insisted on calling her mother as soon as they were at the stadium. 

The Norwegian happily obliged, dialling her daughter's girlfriend and sighing in relief when the call immediately connected. It wasn't facetime, so Mapi couldn't see her daughter's beaming face, or the fact they were already sat in their seats in the family and friends section. 

"Gudrun?"

"Mami? Holaaa!"

The Spaniard's entire body relaxed right then and there, after what feels like months of worrying that her daughter hated her, that she would never forgive her. She had been so tense for the past few days, completely occupied by her anxieties. 

"My Is." Gudrun could hear the relief in her voice. "I miss you so much."

"I miss you too Mami." She frowned at the phone, looking up at Gudrun. "Where is she?"

The Norwegian frowned. 

"At home, Isabel, in Spain." 

But Isabel shook her head, pointing at the phone. 

"Her face?"

Mapi understood before Gudrun, quickly switching to a facetime call. 

"There she is!" Mapi beamed and her daughter returned the expression. "My little girl."

Isabel's smile grew and she leant back into Gudrun's embrace. 

"I'm your little girl." She sighed contentedly. "I love you Mami."

"I love you so much." She waited for Isabel to nod before continuing. "And I want you to know something, Is."

"What?"

"You are the most important thing in the whole entire world. You are my number one. Always."

Isabel just nodded casually. 

"I know."

Mapi was taken aback, surprised by her child's casual demeanour. She had expected to have to do some persuasion, based on the reports she was getting from Ingrid every night. The reports that had broken her heart over and over again, stomping on it and kicking it around.

"How do you- I mean, it's good you kno- it's true."

Isabel smiled happily at her mother's stuttering. 

"Gudrun told me that all Mami's are the same, and she loves Ingrid a whole lot. Ingrid is very important. It means that I matter most to you, like Ingrid matters most to her."

Mapi smiled gratefully at the camera, making a note to thank her girlfriend's mother profusely when she was off the phone call. 

"You are so right, my lion cub."

They stayed on the phone call throughout the whole game, Isabel flipping the camera as Ingrid walked out onto the field so Mapi could watch, her daughter's commentary right in the speaker as the game continued. 

She was still at the wedding, but had the afternoon in her room alone before the final ceremony that night as the game finished, she started to get ready, still on the facetime call as Gudrun lead Isabel down towards the field and as she was lifted over the barricade into Ingrid's arms. 

"It's Mami, Ingrid!"

The Norwegian was exhausted, sweaty and sore, but all she could feel was pure relief. 

Because Isabel was beaming, not a tear in sight. She was on the phone to Mapi which meant she had asked to call her because Ingrid told Gudrun to not bring it up - it had been a soft topic over the past couple of days. 

But there she was, her girlfriend all dressed up, hair and makeup done. 

It was the antithesis of Ingrid, really, her post match appearance a stark contrast to Mapi's pre dinner one. 

But both women felt nothing but happiness in that moment, relief washing over them as they realised everything was ok. Isabel was happy again, for now at least. 

They had four more days in Norway, the homesicknesses would surely make it's return at some point, but now she had Mapi to talk to whenever she wanted. Somehow her entire attitude had changed over the past few hours, apparently an easy switch that Ingrid just hadn't been able to find. 

But one look at her mother with a proud and satisfied smile settled upon her face told Ingrid everything she needed to know. 

So as Isabel scampered over to Caro, the phone still in her hand, Ingrid moved towards her mother, thanking her profusely as she hugged her tight. 

"I had no idea how much that little girl loves you, Ingrid."

Ingrid frowned. "What?"

She had told her so many times about the love she had for Isabel, the love that was so clearly reciprocated. 

"It's an exponential love, growing so quickly. She is a good girl, I am so proud of you."

Her frown changed quickly into a smile, her eyes filling up with tears. 

"Thank you, Mama."

She felt like Gudrun had no idea how much her daughter needed that affirmation, the encouragement that she was something to Isabel, someone important. 

But Gudrun knew. Of course she did. 

~~~~~~

Ingrid finally felt relaxed, the child dozing off slowly in her arms, finally relieved of all her sadness and stress. Her hands carded through the child's curly hair, whispering soft affirmations in her ears to send her to sleep. 

She was less restless that night, but still insistent on sleeping with Ingrid, her own bed so cold and empty on the other side of the room. 

But she was happy, finally, and for the first time since landing in Norway, Ingrid felt confident that she could do it. She could do it without Mapi, no matter how hard it was. She was more than just Mapi’s girlfriend, she was a real guardian of her child.

"Good night, Is. I love you so much."

Isabel hummed contentedly, snuggling closer into Ingrid's warm body. 

"I love you too, Mama."

The Norwegian could only freeze, her eyes filling up with happy tears, placing a kiss on the child's small head. 

Because Isabel hadn't been prompted at all. She meant it, she really saw Ingrid as her mother. 

And that meant the world to the Norwegian, who had spent so much time worrying that she would never be enough for the child, that she would always be an outsider within their little family, despite Mapi's intense efforts to try and reassure her that she was wrong. 

And maybe, just maybe, this was the start of Ingrid finally understanding that she really could be part of their little family.

Or even better, she would realise that she already was.

Ingrid: She called me Mama. I can't believe she called me Mama. 

Mapi: I can.  You are her Mama. She loves you so much.

~~~~~~ sorry this took so long and hope you enjoyed! 

tell me what you think!!

have a good day :)

[rosepinks-world]

FUCK IT I LOVE YOU, I REALLY DO (cherry waves pt2)

summary: wade helps you patch things up with Logan via a party.

taglist: @justaleksss @fallout-girl219 @fandomsunited @midnights-afternoons

It had been at least a week since you’d last seen Logan.

You hated to say it but you’d been a wreck. The whole point of casual sex was that you wouldn’t get your heart broken and yet here you were with your heart broken. The fact you felt this way made you realise that you felt the same way about Logan. I mean if you were that bothered about not seeing him that had to mean something.

One weekend you were in a blanket cocoon on the sofa binge watching some shit reality tv when you heard a knock on your door.

Logan.

He was all that came to mind as you fixed your hair and outfit slightly. You excitedly whipped the door open to reveal:

“Oh. Hi Wade.” You said your smile leaving your face.

“Well fuck you!” He said inviting himself in dropping some flowers onto your counter. “I was chased by an old lady for picking those from her front garden so you better put them in the best vase you own.”

You laughed but returned to being a bit miserable.

“What are you doing here Wade?”

“I’m throwing a little get together and you’re invited! How fun is that?”

Really he came all this way to invite you to a party?

“Wade you have my number why didn’t you just text me.”

“Okay you’re really missing the point.”

You furrowed your eyebrows.

“Logan is doing my fucking head in.” He complained emphasising the ‘ing’. “He keeps moping around the apartment like he’s been told he can’t jerk off for the rest of his life and it’s got to stop.”

You rolled your eyes, “Wade he’s a prick I don’t want anything to do with him.”

He tilted his head pulling out a stool and sat at the counter.

“Okay you had argument apparently but I need more, tell daddy the drama.”

You cringed at the nickname. “Never say that again.”

“Noted. Now carry on!”

You huffed slightly annoyed and embarrassed about explaining what Logan had said to you.

“We were gonna have sex like usual. He ate me out…”

“Yum.” Wade said interrupting.

You gave him a look and he quickly apologised holding his hands to his mouth.

“When I … finished I hit my head on the bed it was funny so I started laughing and then straight after he… finished in his pants from just that. He got up to the balcony smoked a cigar told me we shouldn’t fuck anymore, went to leave with no explanation, then told me that we shouldn’t because he’s falling in love with me and it’s the last thing any of us needs.”

Wade for the first time in forever was speechless.

“So yeah forgive me for not really caring about his moping.”

Wade shook his head laughing, “Never would’ve guessed that Wolvie was the Boston cream his pants type of guy.”

You threw the flowers at him. “That’s not the point Wade!”

“Woah! What’s the point then?”

“He made me feel like I’m unloveable!”

You sighed and continued explaining your point.

“I would’ve accepted him worrying about catching feelings but he said it’s the last thing any of us needed. Am I that bad?”

Wade gave you a sympathetic look as he placed a hand on your shoulder. He thought for a moment thinking of the right thing to say when he gasped.

“Ohhh! I know what his problem is.”

You perked up, “What is it?”

He shook his head no. “I think it’s better if you work it out yourself.”

You threw your arms out aggressively. “What the fuck Wade?”

“Y/n. You’re an incredible, funny, kind hearted person with an amazing ass! Of course Logan fell for you. How could he not? He’s a really sexy but really complicated guy which is why, like I said you should be getting your answers from him.”

You didn’t say anything and Wade sighed.

“Look come to our apartment tonight. Wear something slutty and go get your man. Just warn me if you’re gonna fuck because I really, really, really want to listen.”

You smiled at Wades weird way of comforting you. “I’ll think about it.”

Wade nodded looking at his watch, “Well I’ve got to go and pick up Als coke. See ya y/n”

You decided to take Wades advice.

It was ten pm. Loud music thumped through the door as you stood outside Wade and Logan’s shared apartment. You had a ‘slutty’ dress on and you’d done your makeup to the way you liked it. You went to knock on the door when you stopped just infront of it. What the fuck were you doing?

You went to walk away when the door swung open as if Wade could sense you.

“Y/ns here!” He screamed to the large collection of people as they cheered. He pulled you through the room whispering about how he was proud of you and something about how your ass looked great.

As Wade got distracted your eyes landed on a familiar brown leather jacket. You smiled slightly, you couldn’t help it but it quickly faded when he moved to the side slightly to reveal a woman. She had opposite features to you and she stood in front of him giggling and touching his arms and face. She then leaned up to kiss him and you quickly turned away.

You were angry.

Furious to be exact. You weren’t official but he obviously didn’t fall for you that hard if he was kissing another girl. You snatched a drink from Colossus’ hand downing it as you went to find more.

You were pretty far gone. Not on the verge of blackout (yet at least) but the type of drunk that would explain what you were doing right now. You were on top of a table with a crowd around you as you threw your hips around to the song playing. The cheers from the crowd encouraging you to carry on dancing and to go even further.

You felt yourself reaching to the strap of your dress pulling it sultrily down your arm the top of your bra showing. The cheers only got louder distracting you from the random guy who leaned very close to the table. He placed his hands on the top of your legs grabbing your thighs. He reached his hands around and harshly smacked your ass. The flashing lights around you combined with the thumping bass and cheers were disorientating. You barely saw as the guy who’d grabbed you was harshly shoved away a voice bellowing out,

“Get the fuck out of here! What sort of people did you invite here Wade?”

You squinted to try and make out what was going on when your legs were swept off the table. You were hoisted over the man’s shoulder the front of your body draped over his back your ass extremely close to his face. You got worried for a second wondering who the hell was picking you up and whether the intentions were right until he spoke.

“What the fuck are you doing y/n?”

Logan.

The happiness of seeing him quickly wore off. God who does he think he is getting mad at you? You returned to being angry.

“Why do you care? I’m not yours to worry about anyway.”

He let out a sigh and kicked the door to what you now realised was his bedroom. You’d been there so many times that the fact you could barely walk in a straight line didn’t stop you from recognising it. He put you down on the bed gently as he went to remove your shoes.

If you had been sober you would’ve shrugged him off to show that you didn’t need him but all independence went out of your mind the minute he’d picked you up. If you had been sober you also wouldn’t make yourself seem so jealous but words left your lips quicker than you could think.

“Who was the girl you were with?” You asked as you kicked off your now undone shoe.

He looked genuinely confused. “What girl?”

You threw your head back on the bed annoyed.

“The girl that was rubbing up against you and kissed you.”

He smirked slightly, he couldn’t help but like the fact you were jealous.“Never seen her in my life. She came onto me, tried to kiss me I declined. She was pretty fucked up I think she got into Als coke so I called her a cab.”

Always a gentleman.

You rolled your eyes as he went to take off your other shoe. “Why are you so nice?” You huffed.

He smiled at the compliment. “Nice? I don’t think that’s me bub.”

You shook your head rather erratic due to the state you were in. “Nope! You are nice you just don’t let other people see it.” He smiled at your compliment.“Well you were nice until you made me feel like shit.”

He frowned guiltily as he helped you up to the pillows on the bed and placed the duvet over you. Logan stood back up and turned towards the door.

“You gonna leave me again?” You asked disappointed. God sober you would be so angry.

He shook his head. “I shouldn’t be here with you when you’re like this. It’s not right.”

You laughed hiccuping as you did “You’ve literally been inside me multiple times and this is where you draw the line? We’re not fucking! Just lay with me.”

He looked skeptical until you tilted your head your eyes shining brightly as you grabbed his arm. “Please?”

How could he say no to you when you looked like that? He cleared his throat and sat next to you on the bed. “You want anything?”

“Yeah. I want you.” You replied not looking at him, eyes fluttering open and closed. You were exhausted.

He shook his head. “Bub, no you don’t.”

You tiredly laughed in disbelief. “What do you mean? I really want this to happen you’re the one that said falling in love with me is the last thing any of us need? Am I that unlovable?”

You wanted him? You were drunk but they do say drunk words are sober thoughts. He wanted to tell you how he felt but there was no damn way you’d remember any of it the next morning. “I’m not answering you when you’re drunk I want you to remember what I say.”

His answer lingered in the air with no reply. He thought you had given him the silent treatment but then he heard soft snores coming from you. He laughed a little.

“And that’s why.” He whispered pushing your hair out of your face.

He sat on the bed next to you the whole night. He didn’t even bother sleeping, too worried about what he was going to say to you when you woke up. The only time he left was to prepare you aspirin, water and some food he knew you liked.

You turned over eyes opening as you moaned clutching your head. Logan gestured to the items he gathered earlier and you fixed yourself up. As you downed the glass of water he spoke up.

“You remember what we were talking about last night?”

He didn’t even bother beating around the bush. You paused gathering your memories it didn’t take you long and you felt like your brain had caught you up to speed. You started to remember all the things you had said and did and groaned head in hands.

“…Yeah.”

He pulled his lips into a straight line.

“Right well, I’m really not good with things like this but I’m sorry for making you feel like shit.”

You kept a straight face wanting to see where this was going but you were grateful for the apology.

“Y/n… you were the one that wanted a casual relationship. For me it was great because I didn’t have to worry about hurting anyone or getting hurt but I fell for you. How could I not?”

Your eyes widened. Logan was renowned for being unemotional so you couldn’t believe he was saying these things. You were also flattered you thought you had flaw after flaw but to Logan you were perfect.

“You didn’t want anyone to love you because you didn’t want to get hurt. I’m a terrible person. The worst version of Logan. And I got scared because I don’t want to hurt you. I also really don’t want to lose you.”

You shook your head ‘no’ at his self depreciation. He felt at ease knowing that you disagreed but he continued, “And I’m an asshole for making you feel unloveable because god y/n how could anyone not fall in love with you?”

Wow. For the first time ever Wade got something right. You smiled at him swinging your legs over his body so you were straddling him against the headboard. You leaned forward studying his face whilst the pads of your thumbs gently rubbed his rough skin.

“Logan you’re worried about hurting me but you’re the first person I’ve met that’s made me feel the safest. And I’m not going anywhere- unless you kill me or something.”

He laughed at your joke. Another reason he adored you. He leaned into the touch of your hands.“So, fuck it Lo, I love you too.”

He grabbed your face with urgency as he kissed you. You couldn’t help but smile into the kiss. God you two were so stupid. Why didn’t you just tell each-other this ages ago? You went to tell Logan what you were thinking when a bang on the wall pulled the two of you away from each other.

“Guys! That was so much better than listening to you fuck!” Wade yelled through the very thin walls of your apartment.

“Have you been listening this whole time prick?” Logan shouted back.

The two of you were met with a silence that strongly suggested that the answer was yes. You laughed leaning your head onto Logan’s shoulder.

“I’ll kill him.” He announced pointing to the wall. Logan was half joking but you could tell he was a little embarrassed. To open up to you clearly made him feel very vulnerable, it was understandable he didn’t want Wade to see that side of him. You tried to make him feel better by playing with the tufts of his hair. “Kill him later. Just stay here for a little longer.”

He nodded obeying you as he drew random patterns on your back. He felt like the luckiest guy in the world. You who looked beyond beautiful at six am in the morning, you who brought light to his life and you who loved him no matter his flaws.

He really did love you and you loved him. Feeling slightly giddy he reached for his cigars and lighter with you still buried into his shoulder.

“Baby..” you started pulling away from his shoulder.

He paused a cigar hanging from his lips. “Yeah?”

“Do I look like a clown?” You asked referring to your messy makeup that hadn’t been removed from last night.

“Yeah. Sexiest clown at the circus.” You cackled hitting his chest jokingly. He went back to his cigar when you started speaking again.

“Also.”

He quirked a brow up pausing in lighting his cigar bringing it away from his mouth. You leaned forward seductively inches away from his lips and paused.

“Don’t even think about smoking one of those fucking things in here.” You ordered smirking as you plucked the cigar from his lips placing it back on the table.

He rolled his eyes chucking the lighter next to the cigar saving it for later. He acted like he wasn’t but really he was happy. Now, he could put your hatred to cigars to a happier memory. He cupped your face. “That’s my girl.”

[covenists]

✦ PICTURE ME NAKED, L. HAMILTON

💭: everybody loves him and his talent. and of course, the fans love his talent in capturing his girlfriend's moments every time.

‼️: her face claim is taylor russell, age gaps (reader is 27), lovesick lewis, supportive fan, no bad fan behavior here bcs we only want some peace, some curse words.

₊˚⊹౨ৎ ⋆｡✦˚‎

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yourusername My favorite colorrrr<33

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caption: Stroll around NYC💋💋

Y/N'S DIRECT MESSAGE

lewishamilton replied to your story!

lewishamilton: Since when did you even landed in New York?

yourusername: Yesterday

Oh wait, last night. I forgot🫢

lewishamilton: WITHOUT ME??

yourusername: I've noticed that you've been busy, so I don't want to bother you futher.

lewishamilton: Not anymore now

yourusername: So come here thennn

lewishamilton: Okay

Love you

yourusername: I LOVE YOU TOOOOO

lewishamilton added to their story!

caption: Nothing's better than wine picking with you🍷

₊˚⊹౨ৎ ⋆｡✦˚‎

—TAGLIST! @dinosushilun1 @miarabanana @4mula-1 @meowtastick @cabbyhabs @avengers-assemble123456 @4limq @queenofmanydreams

[margowritesthings]

Good Luck, Babe!

pairing: Eloise Bridgerton x f!reader word count: 2394 words listen along authors note: I don't know what came over me with this one- I NEVER write just angst but here it is I guess🥲🥲 I just felt like Chappell is so Eloise x reader coded. I hope you enjoy! As always, big thank you to @cowboydisaster for beta-ing💙

Dearest El,

I have departed London. As this letter will be arriving some weeks after I have departed London, and owing to your brilliant mind, I am sure you will have worked that out by now. I can only apologise for my disappearance and complete lack of correspondence, when Mama received word of Aunt Petunia’s illness, she made so much haste I barely had time to pack a quill. 

I hope with all my heart I can return to you soon. As much as the London season pains me, you bring the most incredible medicine in your company, one that I long to drink up every drop of.

As the atmosphere here in the country gets ever more mournful, the hope that I can soon be with you brightens. I feel so terribly guilty for not being as consumed by grief as the rest of my family, however I mourn every second missed by your side much more than a lifetime of a woman I never knew. 

My heart longs for more stolen moments soon,

Yours, always.

Meanwhile, at almost the exact same instant… 

My dear Miss Bridgerton,

We have been corresponding now for quite some time, and although we have never formally met, I feel as if I know you.

Forgive me if I am too bold, but I am writing to invite you to visit me. It is my hope that we might decide that we will suit, and you will consent to be my wife.

—Sir Phillip Crane

“A… A husband? You are engaged?!”

You can’t be sure you heard right for the rushing of blood in your ears and the shattering of your heart in your chest. A broken heart always sounded so metaphorical, fantastical imagery to describe an emotion. But this pain is so very real, and it hurts so badly it takes everything you have not to let your knees buckle beneath you. 

“Perhaps… we could discuss this in private?” Eloise says, and even though you see her lips moving in time to the words you hear, it doesn’t sound like her. Not the girl you grew up with, the woman you love with all your heart. Everything has changed, in all of 4 seconds. 

The pointed tone she yields makes you remember yourself, finding half a dozen other Bridgertons looking back at the two of you. There’s tension knitted between each of their brows, the resemblance in the family so striking when they’re all gazing at you with the exact same confused expression. You can’t blame them, it is a rather intense reaction for a young lady when she finds out her best friend is betrothed.

They could never know how much more you are.

How much you thought you were.

Eloise pulls at your arm, and you comply like wet clay between her fingers. The shock is really settling in your bones now, and your lip wobbles with emotion you cannot spend in front of her family. She guides you, and you’re soon both in the library, the heavy door shut and locked behind you.

Your first instinct is to resent her for bringing you here, of all places, to talk about this. This damned library, with more memories stuffed in it than books. Of stolen kisses between chapters, nervous confessions beside the fireplace, learning each and every secret the other holds in their mind, and every single inch of their body. This library was your sanctuary only months ago, and now Eloise has brought you in here to break your heart.

The silence hangs between you, Eloise’s blush lips parting and closing. You’ve never seen her like this, with so much sadness in her eyes it scares you. 

“I… I feared we had been discovered.”

You can’t argue that. It would have been the easiest explanation to come to, with what happened. One day, you’re in London in the middle of the social season, stealing away from balls to press your lover against Lady Trowbridge’s bookshelves and make her moan your name in just the way you like. The next, you’d disappeared without a trace. How was she to know the circumstances? It makes sense now, that she never wrote you back. She wasn’t even in London to receive your correspondence.

“You quit London with all your family, not a trace of you. Not even a mention in Whistledown, for God's sake. I was so worried that perhaps your Papa had discovered that we were… our secret,”

She can’t even say it aloud. 

“And that he’d shipped you off to the country. I thought we’d both be ruined and… I was scared. Scared that I had lost you and that-” 

“Scared that you had lost me and your first instinct was to marry somebody else?!” You spit, all the hurt you had to hide when the first blow hit in the drawing room rising to the surface. “You thought I had been carted off to the country and the first thing you do is find yourself a husband to save your own skin?!”

You’re being ugly and hurtful and you know it, but you’re hurting too. There’s a palpable pain all over, and it’s affecting your ability to hold onto your composure. 

But the way Eloise flinches at your rebuttal is all the more painful. In the candlelight, you spot the tear tracks down her cheeks, and it takes everything not to close the distance between you and swipe them away with your thumb. You’d kiss each cheek softly, feeling just how soft her skin is. Oh, how you’ve missed how soft her skin is… 

Your feet seem to work of their own accord for a moment, toes icing forward, but you pull yourself back, perch yourself on the desk to anchor you down. If you go to her now, you’re not sure you could ever let her go, and she has a fiancé now. 

“It wasn’t like that.” She admits, her voice so weak now. It feels so wrong, like the Earth should be hanging upside down. Even then, your El would cling on with a smile, but this is so much worse than that because she’s crumbling too. She takes a deep, steadying breath, but it does little good.

“I had been corresponding with him for a few months… I knew his wife, Marina, her and Colin were once betrothed and she… well, it does not signify. It was just a letter of condolence, but then he replied, and one thing led to another and you were gone and I didn’t know if you were coming back and-” She’s rambling, words tumbling from her lips and each one a deeper cut than the last and you just can’t listen to all the sordid details anymore.

“Do you love him?” You interrupt, your question asked if it is the most simple in the world when, really, it is anything but. Seconds seem to stretch to hours, Eloise choking on her words and fighting with herself to finally shake her head no.

“It is a marriage of convenience. Sir Phillip is a widower. He has children who need a mother and I… they need me.”

But I need you.

You could tell her that. You could lay your heart out, tell her her place is right here, next to you, but you’re terrified. The chance you have of walking away from this night with your heart in one piece and your soulmate by your side is dwindling by the second. You’re losing her, and the fear turns to ugliness. 

“And that is what you wish to be, now? His wife, their mother?” You spit the titles out as if they are a curse, “What about-”

“What about what? Growing old together as spinsters, those strange ladies who live together in the country and see nobody? The ones who not just ruined themselves with the scandal, but their entire families?! At least I can be his wife. I can be their mother. It’s legal, and accepted, and perhaps that has never mattered to me before, but you left, and I didn’t know when you were coming back and Phillip was there and offering me a place to go and and I… I had to be realistic. Stop living in this fantasy.”

The word ricochets inside you, cracking bones, puncturing organs and leaving you bleeding out in front of her. Fantasy. 

All those long hours reading together, discovering parts of the world nobody would teach two young ladies.

A fantasy.

Your first kiss, hidden from the heavens under the covers of a thunderstorm, discovering other things they’d never teach you.

A fantasy.

That first time, and the next, and the next, and every time after that, skin to skin, bodies so connected you couldn’t tell where one of you ended and the other began. 

Moaning each others names, decorations of love and passion and lust and everything in between tying you both together for what seemed like forever. 

The plans you had to escape to the countryside together, away from anybody who could ever keep you apart.

A fantasy A fantasy A fantasy

The feeling of absolute inadequacy starts to creep in, until you realise it isn’t you Eloise is giving up on, it’s her. 

“This isn’t who you are, El…” You whisper, all the energy and fury in your own words dying off. You’re devastated, not just for yourself, but because you know who Eloise Bridgerton is, and the woman in front of you is letting her down.

She meets your eye, and you do all you can not to lose yourself in those sad, grey pools that tell you everything her words are not. 

“What if it is? It is how every other woman is, is it not? Why should I be so different? What we do- what we did- isn’t how it is supposed to be done and you know it. It could have been nothing- a blip. What if… if I’m not actually like that and I just hadn’t…” The words die in her throat, and you know it’s because she doesn’t mean them. So much so you’re not even hurt by it. She feels just as you do, that tether between you just as tense on both ends, but denial is rearing its ugly head now, and you’re powerless to it.

Eloise takes in a deep breath, sighing it back out as if it will settle her nerves. But you see the way she tugs at her own fingernails, the way her feet shift every other second. She’s nervous. She’s lying, and you don’t know who’s benefit it is for. 

“You can say that we are nothing, but you and I both know the truth, Eloise. You would have to burn the world down for what is between us to cease.

One day, you will wake up in the dead of night and you will realise you are a wife to a man you do not love, a mother to children that are not yours. You will have walked into another woman’s life, a life you do not want, because you think that whatever this is between us will cease, that whatever resides inside of you will simply disappear… Eloise, I promise you now that it will not.

You’ll still love me, all those years from now, I swear to you that you will, and even if you don’t, there will be another but you know it will not be him… Please, El, I beg of you not to do this. Not just for me, but for you. Do not rob yourself of who you truly are because you are scared, please do not do this-”

You don’t know when you started crying, nor when you allowed yourself to finally close the distance between you and Eloise and grab hold of her hands as you beg for her life. She’s too limp in your grip, the fight burning in her already extinguished.

“It… It does not signify. I have already married him.” 

A final blow knocks you back a few paces, from the one you thought you knew so well.

The one you truly didn’t know at all. 

No, you knew your El. You knew Eloise Bridgerton, who had two sugars in her tea and fought harder than anyone else in London for what she believed in. 

You do not know Eloise Crane. 

Not one bit.

“I see.” You choke on the two little repeated syllables, packing thousands more into their subtext. Weaving in the pain and betrayal, wrapping them around the confession that even after all this, you still love her. Maybe she finds those secrets in your short sentence, it’s impossible to tell with this faux composure she’s clinging onto. 

“It all moved so quickly. He asked me to visit him, and my brothers… Well, you know how they are. They believed he compromised me, so we… I… I am sorry. Truly, I never meant to hurt you… It all got away from me.” There’s a weakness in her final sentence that leads you to think perhaps Eloise didn't have much of a say in the matter at all. It makes you angry, furious that these men who claim to love her, her own family, would steal away her future like this. Would steal her away from you.

You want to scream. You want to cry. You want to storm up to Anthony Bridgerton and give him a piece of your mind, but El is right. None of it signifies anymore, because the deed is done. 

Eloise Crane will live the rest of her life within a lie.

And so, it seems, will you. 

She’s openly sobbing now, the two paces backwards you took in the aftershock feeling like miles and miles now. 

“I’m so sorry…” 

And then, so quiet you could have missed it for your own heartbeat,

“I love you.”

It feels as natural as breathing to say it back. You have done, thousands of times. From written into letters left hidden under pillows to moaned voices in each other's ears.

This time, though, the words get stuck. They mutate, catching all that pain build up inside you on their way out and becoming bitter. 

“I wish you the very best of luck with your new family, Lady Crane.”

You try not to look back, but it is awfully difficult.

[freedomfireflies]

hi! can i get a stiles blurb?? maybe injured and angsty? 😭

“Ow…ow…ow…ow, motherfuck—shit.”

You feel your eyes roll as you help the dramatic and rather needy patient settle onto your bed. “Baby, I told you to stay home—”

“Yeah, and I said no fucking way,” Stiles retorts quickly, huffing a stray hair from his eye before flopping onto the mattress. “See? I’m fine.”

You release him and step back, arms crossing as you offer a teasing scowl. “Right. A wrist brace and an angry letter from Coach are a clear indication of you being fine.”

To this, he waves his right arm into the air, the dark bandage wrapped around his hand not as intimidating as he had made it out to be. “It’s just a sprain, okay? Not a big deal.”

“Yeah, okay. Is that why you were crying?”

His expression falls. “I was not crying. I was just disappointed for my team cause they’re gonna miss me.”

“Uh-huh. So, what’s with all the ow-ing?”

He blinks. “I wasn’t ow-ing, I was just…I said wow. You know, like wow, get a load of that ass.”

You so badly want to scoff at him, but you feel the flush in your cheeks as he smirks victoriously, reaching his good hand out to loop around your hip and pull you onto the bed. 

He noses under your jaw, lips ghosting just below your ear as you feel your breath hitch. “Missed you,” he murmurs softly, his mischievous intentions now abundantly clear. “Did you miss me?”

Your lashes fall shut as his mouth travels down the curve of your throat. “Did I miss the constant bad jokes and sarcasm? No. No, can’t quite say that I—”

His teeth find your skin, pulling deviously as you gasp. You feel him grin to himself as his fingers slip beneath the hem of your top and for just a moment, you forget why you were so peeved with him in the first place.

“What was that?” he asks when you whimper at the practiced way his palm sweeps across your hip. “Did you say something?”

“I…you…this isn’t…” You aren’t making any sense and you’re so furious with yourself for letting him distract you like this. “Stiles…Stiles—”

“Yes, Princess?” 

You swallow. He’s a sadistic prick for using the one nickname you can’t help but fold to. “Don’t.”

“Don’t what?” His head rolls, tongue traveling up your pulse point as his hand moves up toward your chest. “Isn’t this what you wanted? Isn’t this why you called me over?”

Your fingers scratch down the soft brown hairs at the nape of his neck, knees deep in the mattress to brace yourself as you straddle his waist. “No, I…I called you over so I could…so I could take care of you—”

“You are,” he nearly purrs. “Promise you are. Always take care of me. Make me better. S’making me better right now. To feel you. To hear you—”

“Stiles—”

“What? Don’t you want me to get better?” The rough pad of his thumb brushes over your nipple as you swallow a gasp. “Hm?”

“I…” You exhale a shaky breath despite yourself, working desperately to find a response. “You…I just—”

“Words, Princess.”

But you don’t have any words. You don’t even have any thoughts in your head as you feel his touch travel down your stomach and toward your sweatpants, slipping beneath so casually that you could be fooled into thinking this was always his plan.

Which…to be fair, it probably was.

“Stiles,” you try again, a strained whisper as you bury your face in his neck. “Please…”

You hear him chuckle. Feel it, too. And you’d roll your eyes if it were any other moment, but he knows you. And he knows exactly how to play you like a fucking violin. You’re nothing but his toy and this is proven when he leans back to meet your eye.

“Say it,” he demands, fingers still just below your belly button. So close yet infuriatingly far. “Say it…and I’m all yours.”

You roll your lips into your mouth, your brain fighting your body on what it wants versus what it needs. “You…thought you were meeting Scott—”

“He can wait.”

You swallow a whine at the resolution in his voice. His determination to put you first. “You need to rest. You need to get better—”

“I am.” He leans closer, eyes falling to your mouth as you struggle to remain indifferent. “This is how I get better.” 

“Stiles—”

“What?” He pulls his lip between his teeth to suppress his smirk. “Come on, Princess. Thought you wanted to take care of me. Yeah?”

Your eyes close as you nod faintly, his nose brushing yours as your walls begin to fall. You know the rest of the group is waiting for him. Know the doctor told him to take it easy. Know that he has plenty of other things to do besides you.

And yet knowing does absolutely nothing to stop you from grinding down into his touch.

He murmurs something under his breath you don’t catch. But it sounds desperate and excited and your stomach churns. 

“Say it,” he whispers again. “Say it, baby, come on. Please say it.”

Your chest begins to heave. Your dad will be home in half an hour, and he already forbid you from seeing Stiles once and you don’t imagine you want him to do it again and you really need to get off of him and take him home and tell Scott he’s on his way and tell his dad that he’s okay and make sure Coach isn’t too upset and—

“I need you,” you hear yourself say before you can stop it. “Please…please, Stiles. I just…I need—”

He kisses you. Finally, and fervently, and it’s everything you’ve wanted since the moment he climbed through your window fifteen minutes ago and crashed to the floor. 

And he’s everywhere. You know nothing else but him and his fingers and his touch as he makes your cunt his personal plaything. As he tastes you, as he talks to you, as he lays you down on your stomach so he can ruin you from behind.

And with your face buried into the pillow and his tongue buried in you, you realize maybe he was right.

He makes you better, too.

~ Full Masterlist

~ Other Dylan Blurbs

[bangfantanfic]

Our Own World: Chapter 12.

Warnings: Possible mentions of stalkingand yandere behaviour.

tags; @miss-jupiter @imagine-forlife @blaaiissee @millenniumspec @toughbook @darkuni63 @badbyeyoongi @iloverubberduckiez-blog @missseoulite @singukieee @potterbrooke @suhappysuho @doublebunv @sevenpersona @blancflms @childfmoonn @caffeineandreveries @cryingpages @gato-dumbo @xicanacorpse @devilzliaison

A/N; I am alive! Thank you all for being so patient, life has been life-ing and I cannot say it's been enjoyable lmao. I hope this update is okay, please let know! I am also currently going through Our Own World and my other works editing everything! So there may be some changes, so please bare with me while everything is a bit messy. If you would like to be removed or added to my taglists please let me know <3

Being holed up in Jimin’s room had surprisingly been a nice refresher. The only person coming and going from the room had been Jimin, taking clothes to his roommates, bringing fresh clothing to you, and meals whenever they were ready. He spent nearly every second glued by your side, chatting away like he had known you his entire life. He had millions of questions, wanting to know every intimate detail about the life you lived before finding yourself stuck here, although he worded it much nicer. 

In turn, you asked Jimin a million and one questions. You asked about his life, what it was like living with your brother, did he have hobbies, and of course, questions regarding life as a hybrid. You hadn’t ever spent much time around normal animals despite the never-ending line of pets your parents bought home, and so obviously hybrids were a whole new ballgame. Jimin had been thrilled by your interest, answering every question in length and always making sure you understood everything. The hybrid had shown you so much patience and care, more than you had expected or ever even experienced before. It had been a shock and left you feeling embarrassed and ashamed of the way you had behaved around them all. 

Growing up, despite your parents' interest in hybrids, they never got any. Nobody you knew had hybrids— well obviously other than your brother but his ownership over them had been a surprise! You had very little knowledge of them, only what you had learned through the media, which even you should have known wasn’t the most reliable source at times. All your information, the knowledge you thought you had? Useless. You may as well have watched Fox News all your life. Thankfully, Jimin didn’t seem to mind your lack of knowledge, in fact, he seemed thrilled to share everything he could with you. The two of you had started to form a surprising bond. 

For the first time in almost a week, you woke up alone. It had left you feeling strangely disappointed. The first night you had spent in Jimin’s shared bedroom, he had insisted you sleep in his bed, and you both had bickered for a ridiculous amount of time until you caved in. By the second day, he had rejoined you in his bed, being careful to keep his distance. It was sweet. By day four you were waking up to Jimin curled up around your body, his nose buried into your neck, his hot breath tickling your skin. Strangely enough, you weren’t bothered by the skinship. Your skin didn’t crawl at his touch, even the gentle brushes of his tail on your calf. It was almost comforting. Jimin had picked up on the change in attitude toward touch, slowly amping up his skinship. 

But it was strange to wake up to the disturbed routine you had so briefly experienced. Usually, you woke up before Jimin, the fox hybrid stayed up later than you and slept in longer. Today was different. Deciding to shrug it off, you rolled across the bed blindly reaching for your phone on the bedside table. The blinding white light from your screen caused the device to slip from your hands for a moment before you recovered from temporary blindness. Speedily scrolling through the notifications on your lock screen, your thumb froze upon noticing a familiar name. 

HY- U free today? Was thinking about going on a walk… u interested? 

Staring at the words, rereading, and then reading one more time, you threw the blanket off your body, throwing yourself upward. You still texted the man from the grocery store, Hanyoon, nearly every day, unfortunately, you hadn't run into him again since your first meeting. Covid’s lockdown rules had thankfully finally started to ease up. Whilst masks and international travel still hadn’t gone back to normal, you were allowed to roam the streets again... Exercising for a few hours outside of the house in the neighborhood you lived in was encouraged. Getting out of the house was just what you needed, even if it was with a man you had only met once. Keeping yourself cooped up like this was crazy, of course, it was. Jay wasn’t able to return anytime soon, and just because Hoseok and Jeongguk had scared the shit out of you, it didn’t mean you should close yourself off to the others who hadn’t done anything wrong. A day out was exactly what you needed to clear your head. 

Y/N- sounds great! Whenever you're ready :)) 

Dropping your phone back onto the mattress, you stumbled out of the bed, ankle snagged in one of many blankets that Jimin kept all over the bed. You made a quick mental note to fix his bedding when you got back. Digging through the pile of your dirty clothes that had been shoved behind the door, you found a decent enough outfit. Sure, you could go to your bedroom but the fewer stops the better. If you could avoid alerting the whole house of your departure that would be ideal. 

You were thankful for the one sink in the ensuite that still worked, getting to quick work brushing your teeth. Unfortunately, your hair was disgustingly greasy, but with no time to shower you would just have to steal some of Jimin’s dry shampoo and pray it could fix the cesspool on top of your head. Not bothering with makeup, knowing your unfit ass would sweat it all off, you were quick to ditch your glasses in favor of contacts. Deeming yourself presentable for the public, you quickly grabbed your phone from Jimin’s mattress. Hayoon’s contact alerted you to his arrival at the park nearby. 

To your complete surprise, you managed to make it out of the house without a single soul making an appearance. If you didn’t know any better, you would have assumed the house was empty. Knowing better than to test your luck, you had been quick to slip into your sneakers by the door, taking off down the driveway. Despite enjoying Jimin’s companionship the past week, you craved normal human interaction. Jimin was a sweetheart, but there was something that lingered under that sweetness that often left you feeling uneasy. It could just be you overthinking, subconsciously comparing him to his two packmates that had spooked you, but you weren’t going to completely ignore your gut. You had learned to be better than that. 

“Y/n!” 

A grin pulled at your lips as you locked eyes with Hayoon, your legs picking up pace to meet him faster. Hayoon looked good, dressed in loose black shorts and a baggy white tee. His hair which had been completely buzzed off the first, and last, time you saw him had started to regrow. Thick dark hair had started to flower across his head, making you wonder what kind of style his hair had been before it had been shaved off. 

“Hayoon, I hope I didn’t keep you waiting?” You asked sheepishly, keeping a little space between your bodies. 

He waved you off, smiling down at you. You forgot how tall he was, definitely an inch or so taller than Namjoon. You weren’t short, in fact, you were considered tall for a woman in your country, but Hajoon made you feel tiny, something you couldn't say happens often. 

“Nah, I haven’t been here long.” He assured you, gently bumping into your shoulder as he started to walk along the dusty path. The crunch under his shoes finally jolted your legs into gear after what seemed to be a moment of short-circuiting when the skin of his arm brushed against yours. 

The sun felt amazing on your skin, something you never thought you could say. Even the gentle breeze didn’t bother you. It was still early, the only other people in the park being an elderly couple walking with their arms linked up ahead. Despite how warm it already was, the couple were dressed in thick coats as if braving the city's harsh winter. Watching the way they interacted so freely with one another warmed your heart, they seemed so in love. Growing old didn’t seem as scary if you did it with someone you loved. 

Hayoon must’ve been watching the same scene as you, a soft smile on his lips as he admired the affectionate couple ahead. A comfortable silence had settled over the two of you rather quickly, and you were grateful. Something you liked about Hayoon was how easy it was with him. There were no forced conversations, no bitterness over slow responses. There were many similarities between the two of you, making it almost effortless to keep any conversation going. Any differences were discussed, debated, and settled. Those differences weren’t drastic, nothing that could end the bond that slowly was forming. 

A sound of disgust broke your thoughts, Hayoon’s eyes were still looking toward the elderly couple, only now a third person had appeared. A short woman who looked to be in her mid-thirties had been walking in front of them and now separated off to the left with her arm linked with the elderly woman, the two admiring a shrub of flowers. The short woman had pretty honey-colored hair with ears of the same color poking out– a hybrid. 

Hayoon looked down at you, an apologetic look on his face. His tanned cheeks had a cute pink flush to them. “Sorry– I didn’t mean to.” He stumbled over his words, his cheeks going brighter in embarrassment. 

“Not a fan?” You laughed, glancing back toward the elderly woman and her hybrid. 

Hajoon snorted, shaking his head. He kept quiet as you approached the trio, waiting until a good distance had been made before he answered your question. 

“It’s just.. Weird?” He sighed, his thick brows pulling together. “It’s not natural.” 

Humming, you found yourself agreeing. Hybrids were a strange concept, you found it incredibly difficult to understand why anyone would go out of their way to warp genetics in such a way. What was the real reason for creating such a mess of DNA? Only to ban them twenty years later? What was the reason for banning them? They were a hot commodity, every facility selling out within weeks, the waitlists being years long. The money the government had made from their creation had been staggering, and yet twenty years later facilities were shut down and forced to stop producing. The last few generations were sterilized, and the older generations were also encouraged to be as well. The government was trying to completely erase their creations without an explanation. As anyone could imagine, it didn’t go down well with the public. Hybrid trading has become a huge issue over the last few years, with huge rings being found and shut down every few days. 

What about Jay’s hybrids? When exactly did he get them, and where from? They were all born before the ban, that much you knew. So maybe he got them legally? Did he follow the government's advice, suggesting (demanding) to have all hybrids sterilized? Jay seemed to want to hide the fact that he owned hybrids, was it because of how many he had? Maybe there was a limit on how many hybrids a person could own that you weren't aware of. Seeing the elderly couple out with their cat hybrid, not a concern in the air, had you confused as to why the seven back home were kept under lock and key. Was it because of their breeds? They were all exotic animals, the laws might apply differently to different breeds. After the ban on hybrids, many laws shifted, and still to this day they are constantly changing, it is difficult to keep up to date. 

The topic of hybrids and Hayoon’s opinions on them piqued your interest. You were still clueless on the topic, no matter how much research you did into it you still felt uneducated on it all. Hayoon had been an excellent source of information, leaving you almost speechless on how much he seemed to know about them. If there was one thing you admired about the man, it was how educated he was on all topics. He always made sure to have himself as well informed as possible before making an opinion, he was a pool of knowledge. He never looked down on you for things you didn't know or understand and explained things as many times as you needed. It reminded you of Namjoon. 

A knot of anxiety pulled at your stomach. Had they noticed you were gone? Were they upset... Maybe you should have told someone, or at least left a note. You know Namjoon has a shitty old phone that's shared amongst the group, but you never bothered to get the number for it. You hadn’t seen a need for it, the only time you had spent away from any of them was to go get groceries. A part of you also just didn’t want them to have your number, the thought of them being able to contact you in the only time you had alone was distressing. Quickly shrugging off your concerns, you turn your attention back to Hayoon who had thankfully not noticed you spacing out. 

They’re fine, they’re grown men, and they can live without you for a few hours. 

“She’s gone!” 

Namjoon slammed his laptop shut, glaring up at Jimin for bursting into the bedroom he was temporarily residing in until Y/N was ready to go back to her own. 

“Have you forgotten how to knock?” He snapped, earning a frustrated hiss from the young fox. 

“Are you deaf!” He shot back, tugging at his hair. “Y/N is gone, I can’t find her anywhere!” 

Jimin’s panic was already distressing enough, the emotion suffocating the room the longer he stood in the doorway, but the anxiety that flooded his nerves was enough for him to feel bile rising in his throat. Namjoon had heard one less heartbeat when he woke up late this morning, but he had pinned it down to either one of the boys had gone walking at the back of the property, somewhere too far for his hearing to pick up, or Jeongguk was sleeping so deeply that his heart had slowed to almost nothing again– a common occurrence when the snake hybrid had a late night. The possibility of it being your heartbeat missing hadn’t even crossed Namjoon’s mind. You had been locked away in his bedroom for some time now, nobody but Jimin had seen you, and nobody would have suspected you leaving. The smell of your fear still lingered upstairs, Jimin would herd everyone downstairs before you would agree to go use the upstairs bathroom to shower. Going as far as making Jimin stand guard on the door until you were done. When did you lose that anxiety? 

Ripping the blanket, Namjoon’s laptop hit the floor as he jumped off the mattress. “Where have you looked?” 

“I’ve been through the yard, the kitchen, our bedroom, and all of downstairs. I haven’t checked Jeongguks room, I was on my way–” 

Namjoon was speeding down the hallway before the fox could finish his sentence. This was a new kind of fear he had never experienced before, his throat closing up and his eyes burning. His lungs were on fire, struggling to keep up with how quickly he was breathing. At the end of the hall was Taehyung and Jeongguk’s room, the door shut and only the sound of one heartbeat fluttering peacefully. Had you found your way into their room? Maybe you had gotten lost and ended up in the wrong bedroom? These things happen all the time! He’ll open the door and you’ll be curled up in someone's bed, and the crisis will be averted. 

With the force that Namjoon pushed open the door, he almost fell flat on his face. Stumbling into the room, his eyes quickly adjusted to the darkness, squinting as he took in two groggy men peeking out from their blankets. 

“Hyung, what the fuck?” Jeongguk groaned, his heart going from nearly stopped to racing. 

“Well, is she there?” Jimin huffed, shoving past his leader to look for himself. To his great disappointment, the room held no signs of you ever being there. Cursing, Jimin shoved past Namjoon, his usual gratefulness replaced with clumsy heaviness. 

“What’s his problem?” Taehyung whined, pulling his blanket over his head to shield himself from the brightness of the hall. 

Namjoon, for the first time in his life, couldn’t find words. You’re not here. There are seven heartbeats, not eight. The knot in his stomach tightened, the bile in his stomach rising higher and higher. When did you leave, how long has it been? Your car is still here, you couldn’t have gotten far. How didn’t anyone hear you leave? A house full of hybrids and not a single one heard you get up and out the front door? 

Impossible. 

“Did you hear anyone leave the house this morning?” He asked as calmly as possible, the shake in his voice far more noticeable than he would have liked. Both grunted out no’s, begging the elder male to close the door. 

It was Jeongguk, finally ripping the blanket off his head ready to start a war over the damned door still being open, that noticed Namjoon’s pale sweaty skin. He looked like he was about to projectile vomit. Frowning, the snake hybrid slinked out of bed and heaved his tired body toward his sickly leader. Pressing the back of his cold hand against Namjoon’s forehead, he sighed in relief. He wasn’t running abnormally hot, so it wasn’t a fever or some kind of sickness. Even with his less advanced hearing, he could still hear the erratic beating of his hyung’s heart. 

“Joonie, you okay?” He murmured, his hand cupping the back of the man's neck as he tried to get closer to assess him better. “You don’t look so good…” 

The concern in Jeongguk’s usually smug tone had Taehyung flying into a sitting position, his hair standing in every possible direction. His puffy eyes zeroed in on his pack leader, his brows pulling together in concern. 

“Is he sick?” 

Jeongguk shook his head, keeping his eyes on the wolf hybrid. Gently squeezing at the muscle in his neck, the snake hybrid was starting to get antsy. “Hey, come on. Talk to us, we can’t help if you don’t tell us what's wrong.” He cooed, the money hybrid making a sound of agreement from behind. 

Namjoon’s tongue pressed against his cheek, his eyes going glassy. He couldn’t get his tongue to work, he couldn’t get himself to say the words his packmates needed to hear. How could he admit to everyone that he had lost you? He could hear Jimin tearing through Jay’s room downstairs, Hoseok and Seokjin hot on his heels trying to calm the younger man down. They didn’t know what was happening either, nobody else had figured it out. 

“We can’t find Y/n.” 

[weemssapphic]

Lipstick Stains - Pt. 17

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Larissa Weems x fem!reader

summary: you finally get a chance to paint Larissa (smut ensues).

words: ~ 3.1k | ao3 link in title

A/N: once again thank you to @afeatherformills for all of the planning and beta-ing, and to my gf as well. i drive both of them crazy and am eternally grateful that they haven't yet told me to stick this fic where the sun don't shine :')

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.

That Saturday you were deep in thought as you navigated the halls of Nevermore, making your way to Larissa’s office. So deep in thought that you hardly noticed Enid walking past you.

“Hey!”

Your head snapped up and you looked around for the source of the voice. Finding it, your face softened and you stepped towards the blonde. “Enid. You okay?”

She hesitated for a moment, her face falling a bit. “Yeah, I guess. Thanks for convincing Weems not to expel us.”

You laughed. “I didn’t have to convince her of anything. Is she really that stern?”

Enid’s lips curled up into a smile. “Sometimes. She can be really cool, but sometimes she’s a bit scary.”

“I’m sure it’s just because she cares,” you replied - truth be told you’d seen Larissa’s ‘scary’ side in action when dealing Wednesday, and you could certainly understand Enid’s point. But as long as Larissa’s anger wasn’t directed at you, you thought your girlfriend was kind of hot when she was angry - a fact you decided to keep to yourself.

“Maybe.” Enid shrugged. “Say hi to Weems for me.”

“Sure,” you replied, feeling yourself blush. As you were about to say goodbye, you were struck with an idea. “Wait.”

You reached into your bag, with Enid watching you curiously as you pulled out your sketchbook and flipped to a random page, scribbling your number on it and tearing it out.

“Here. If you guys are in trouble again, you should have someone to call.” She took the paper with a shy smile. “I’m never going back out there again. But… thanks.” Pulling her phone out of her pocket, she entered your number and shot you a text. “Now you have mine, too.”

“Thanks. Stay safe, Enid,” you teased gently, earning yourself a giggle from the young girl.

~~~

“Come in,” called Larissa’s smooth voice as you knocked on her office door minutes later.

You did as you were told, closing and locking the door behind you. The sound of the lock clicking was not lost on Larissa, who looked up from her laptop with a smirk plastered on her face.

“Hello, darling,” she purred, her fingers pausing in their frantic typing as she waited for you to cross the room, drop the large canvas bag you were holding, and give her a kiss. “Pretty girl,” she mumbled against your lips as she pulled you onto her lap. Deepening the kiss, she flicked her tongue against yours, drawing a breathy moan from your throat which she swallowed eagerly. Her hands came to rest on your thighs, rubbing circles overtop your trousers as her breathing became more shallow. 

You chuckled into the kiss, pulling back reluctantly - Larissa let out a little whine, pouting slightly as she stilled her hands in their movements.

“Rissa…” you whined playfully, wrapping her arms around her neck. “I wanted to paint you while we still have some natural sunlight.”

“Mmm, I know, I know.” Larissa sighed, resting her forehead against yours and sliding her hands up to your waist. “Just tell me what you want from me, I’m all yours today.”

“Thank you.” You smirked, pressing a kiss to her cheek and whispering in her ear - you didn’t miss the shiver that ran down her spine as your warm breath hit the side of her neck. “I actually had an idea for what I wanted to do, may I ask you to accompany me to your bedroom?”

Larissa threw her head back as she laughed, squeezing your waist. When her laughter died down and she locked eyes with you once more, you were met with amusement and desire in equal measure. “Lead the way,” she replied with a smirk as you slid off her lap and held a hand out for her to take, grabbing your bag with the other hand.

She placed her palm in your own and stood, following you to her quarters and straight into her bedroom. “And what will you have me do in here?”

“Well I noticed that the light that comes in here in the early afternoon would be perfect for painting you.” You placed the bag you were carrying at the foot of the bed and looked around the room, your eyes falling to Larissa’s vanity. “Can I move this?”

Larissa chuckled, eyeing you curiously. “That’s fine…” She helped you clear it and drag it to the end of the bed, then sat down at the edge of the bed, kicking her heels off and watching you set up your tabletop easel, a canvas, and your paints. “And how will you have me pose? Would you like me naked in my bed?” she asked playfully.

“You know I would never object to having you naked in your bed,” you teased back, watching Larissa blush, her lips curling up into a shy smile as her gaze dropped to her lap. Once you were satisfied with your set-up, you stepped in front of Larissa, placing a finger underneath her chin and lifting it until her gaze met yours. “I was thinking we could get rid of some of these clothes though…” 

You gave Larissa’s collar a playful tug, receiving an eye-roll and a fake-annoyed huff in return. With a soft smirk playing on her lips, she undid the belt of her dress, then the top buttons, then tugged it over her head, dropping it onto the floor. 

“This too.” You snapped the strap of her bra - she reached behind herself, unhooking her bra and tossing it onto the dress.

“And let me help you with these.” You hooked your fingers under the waistband of her underwear, never breaking eye contact as you dragged them down her legs. You could see her lips part, her tongue darting out to wet them as she spread her legs open for you. When you dropped the underwear to the floor and stood again, you found yourself standing in between her thighs. Larissa’s hands came to rest on your hips, her eyelashes fluttering as her gaze flicked down your body. 

“You know it’s more than a little unfair that you’re still fully clothed, darling,” she husked, watching you with doe eyes.

“Yeah? I can change that.” You stripped yourself of your own clothing under Larissa’s hungry gaze, tossing the garments onto the growing pile. “This better?”

“A little.” Larissa bit her lip. “I know something else that could help.” You raised an eyebrow as Larissa stood from the bed, towering over you as she straightened to her full height. Grabbing hold of your waist, she spun you around and pushed you back onto the bed before crawling on top of you and looking down at you. “Much better,” she purred.

Smirking, you reached down to grab the backs of her thighs. “If you want to be on top so bad you only have to ask,” you teased. “You know what I’ve been wanting to try?”

“Hmm?”

“Having you sit on my face.” You gave the backs of her thighs an insistent tug. “Interested?”

Larissa let out a little groan, leaning down to capture your lips in a lustful kiss.

“Is that a yes?”

You couldn’t help but grin as Larissa rolled her eyes, shifting so that her bare pussy was hovering over your face, her plush thighs bracketing your head. “Yes, that is a yes, darling.” Her entrance glistened with her arousal, the scent of which was already beginning to drive you mad. You wrapped your arms around her thighs, pressing soft kisses to her skin that caused her to let out little whimpers. 

“Whenever you’re ready,” you breathed - she began to lower herself onto your waiting tongue, which immediately traced a path up her slit. “Fuck, you taste amazing.”

Larissa’s hips found a good rhythm, rolling against your face and matching the pace of your tongue as it circled her throbbing clit. Loud, breathy moans fell from her lips as she cupped her own breasts and rubbed her palms roughly over her nipples. From this angle it was hard to see her face as she tilted her head back, losing herself in pleasure, so you focused on the sounds of her moans and the lewd noises of your tongue against her wet cunt, on the feeling of her smooth thighs under your hands, on the sight of her tits bouncing slightly with every buck of her hips. 

“Mmm you look so good touching yourself like that,” you moaned against her pussy, allowing your tongue to explore her folds before slipping it into her entrance. Her walls clenched around you and her hips stuttered slightly in their movements as she stammered out a breathy reply.

“Y-you feel so good…”

“Look at me,” you commanded, waiting until Larissa’s eyes - dark and hooded - were on you before thrusting your tongue into her hole, as deep as you could. You could see her cheeks flush and her breathing falter for a moment as she adjusted to having your tongue inside of her. You groaned as you watched her watch you, as she rolled her own nipples between her fingers while you fucked her. 

As she bucked her hips against your face you ran your tongue back up her slit, wrapping your lips around her clit and sucking feverishly. Larissa’s movements became more and more erratic, her moans growing in volume as you found just the right pressure to bring her over the edge.

“I’m s-so cl- mmh- close, I can’t - shit-” Larissa’s voice was hoarse as her thighs began to tremble around your head - you could tell she wouldn’t be able to hold herself up much longer. You moaned against her clit, tightening your hold on her thighs in encouragement. Larissa fell forward, catching herself on the headboard and crying out in pleasure as she came, her juices coating your tongue and dripping down your chin.

You continued to lap at her pussy, cleaning her up and simultaneously savoring the taste of her. As you felt her thighs shift slightly beside your head, you helped her swing one leg back over your body so that she could lie beside you, breathing heavily.

You pushed her back onto the bed and kissed her eagerly, swallowing her moans as she sucked her arousal off your tongue. When you pulled back, you couldn’t help but giggle at the sight of her lipstick smeared up to her nose. 

“Wait here.” Pushing yourself off the bed, you went to the bathroom to wash your face, getting a makeup wipe and a damp washcloth in the process. Catching sight of Larissa’s bathrobe hanging on the back of the door, you slipped it on, taking a moment to revel in its softness before stopping by the kitchen to fetch a bottle of water.

Returning to the bed, you found Larissa watching you with an amused grin on her face, her eyes dropping to the makeup wipe. “You’re still planning on painting me, aren’t you?” she said with a chuckle. 

“Yep - now drink some water and then hold still.” Larissa did as she was told, humor dancing in her eyes as you cleaned her up - first her thighs and cunt, then the bottom half of her face. “Can I redo your lipstick?” 

Larissa blushed and nodded. “It’s in the drawer of the vanity.”

You took your time to reapply her lipstick, careful to get the edges just right. Larissa was a perfect model for you, holding perfectly still and watching you with hooded eyes. You unpinned her hair, arranging her curls over her shoulders until they hung just right, before moving onto the rest of your “scene” - adjusting the sheets until they were draped over Larissa’s body, revealing the tops of her breasts and clinging to her curves. The early afternoon sun filtered in through the window just how you had envisioned, giving you enough natural light to be able to work properly.

She was an absolute vision, the sun illuminating her blonde curls like a halo, kissing the tip of her nose and giving her a healthy glow. Mascara-coated lashes fluttered a bit against her cheeks when the sun got too bright for her eyes, almost pale blue in this light. You laughed and told her to move her head back a bit, an instruction which she happily complied with.

Sitting down at your easel, you wasted no time in beginning to paint - it was a portrait you’d envisioned painting time and time again, and you were thrilled to finally get the chance. There was something about the shapeshifter in this light, with a post-sex glow about her, that made the moment so special to you.

“You could’ve been a model, you know?” you teased, your heart melting at the pink hue that immediately rose in Larissa’s cheeks. Her lips stretched up into a wide smile that made her laugh lines more prominent and caused her eyes to crinkle at the outer corners - all of the little lines that gave away her age only made her more beautiful to you, stealing the breath right from your lungs.

“Flattery will get you everywhere.” Larissa’s voice was low and sultry, and she shifted underneath the sheets, cocking her head to the side - something that you immediately reprimanded her for, shooing her back into position.

“I’m serious though. Did you always want to become a principal?” You eyed Larissa as her expression turned thoughtful. 

“Not always. What I did want, even in school, was to become a teacher. I’ve always loved working with children, even as a teenager I tutored younger students. But what these kids really need, as outcasts, is someone to advocate for them, and I can do so much more in my role as principal than as a teacher.”

Larissa’s passion for her job never failed to bring a smile to your face, and you glanced over at her between strokes of your paintbrush. “Do you miss teaching?”

“Sometimes…” Larissa’s smile turned pensive, a little sad. “I felt more connected to my students when I taught them directly every day.”

“You really seem to care for them, you know? Like they’re your own.”

“I do… When you get to watch them grow every day over years, they start to feel like family. I’ve always wanted my own…” she trailed off, her expression wistful. A long silence hung in the air and suddenly, Larissa’s cheeks turned red, her gaze dropping to her hands as she began to fidget. “I’m sorry, darling, I shouldn’t have said anything.”

She seemed unable to meet your gaze and you cocked your head to the side - the nervous energy radiating off of her was almost palpable. You set the brush down to give her your full attention.

“Why not?”

Larissa’s blush only deepend, and she sighed. “I’m getting too old for that, anyway. I turn 50 next year, that part of my life has long passed.”

“You could still have that,” you argued - with me, you wanted to add, but you didn’t.

Larissa scoffed, waving a hand in front of her face to distract from her (unwarranted) embarrassment. “You’re young - you’ll learn that you can’t have everything you want in life, and that’s alright. My students are enough for me.”

As much as you wanted to argue with her, you remained silent, mulling over her words in your head. The thought of Larissa settling, giving up on her dreams and desires due to something as stupid as age, broke your heart. You wanted kids, too - maybe not right this second, while you were still in college, but you could see yourself in a few years, chasing a blue-eyed, platinum-blonde-haired toddler around the home you’d share with Larissa. 

“I don’t think you should give up your desires so easily,” you murmured, more to yourself than to Larissa. 

Larissa’s eyes darted to meet yours for only a moment before looking away again. She seemed deep in thought, her brow furrowed a bit. Shaking her head gently, she rolled her shoulders back and let out a deep breath, plastering a smile onto her face - it was neither a genuine smile nor a fake one, but rather something in between.

“I’m sorry if I upset you,” you whispered gently.

“You didn’t upset me, my love, that I can assure you,” she whispered back with equal tenderness.

Standing from your seat you rounded the vanity and stepped up to the bed, leaning over Larissa to cup her cheek and kiss her. When you pulled away, her smile was considerably more relaxed, the lines between her eyebrows nearly gone.

You spent the rest of the afternoon talking and painting. Occasionally you’d catch Larissa giving you a once-over, but she waved it off every time. Not wanting to push her again, you ignored it and allowed her to steer the conversation.

Larissa mentioned Mayor Walker’s funeral the following day and you told her you’d be there, as Robin’s family had been quite close to the mayor and his family. When you asked if Larissa would mind you saying hi to her if they saw each other, she chuckled.

“Darling, I think the secret is out - if Enid knows about us, everyone at this school does.”

You blushed a little at that, but Larissa reassured you that it was alright, she’d love to see you - that small fact made your heart flutter, and you ducked your head behind the canvas to stop Larissa from seeing how red you’d gotten as you added a few final touches to the painting.

“There.” You smiled proudly as you looked between the painting and Larissa. “All done - well, not done done. I need to add some details, and I’ll need to finish parts of the background. But your part is done, you don’t need to sit here while I do that.”

Larissa sat up to stretch, the sheets falling off her body to reveal her rosy nipples and the swell of her stomach. She smiled softly as she caught you staring at her. “Put that paintbrush down and come here,” she cooed. 

You did as you were told, getting up and going to crawl towards her on the bed. She gave your legs a tug, signaling for you to straddle her. Her fingers came to the tie of your robe, giving it a gentle tug and then pushing the robe off your shoulders. She leaned in to kiss you, her bare chest pressing against your own in a way that made your whole body shiver.

Smirking against your lips, she wound her fingers into your hair, her nails scratching lightly against your scalp. “How about you let me show you how much I appreciate you working so hard for me this afternoon, hm?” Her words drew a moan from your throat and you allowed her to push you onto your back and have her way with you, kissing her way down your body and eating you out as if you were her last meal until the both of you were absolutely spent.

x

Taglist: @littledollll @nlr-33 @mysaviorfalsegod @imlike-so-gaydude @rainbow-hedgehog @enchantressb @alder-saan @autumn-leaves-chasing-breeze @amateurwritescm @brienneswife @principal-weems09 @messynessi @larissaoftarthweems @anti-bright-places @lvinhs @catechristiesstuff @ladyzmilf002 @milfsloverblog @opheliauniverse @orangeisnttheonlyfruit @im-a-carnivorous-plant @alexusonfire @bigolgay @kimiinou @wastdstime @scream-queenlover @imprincipalweemspet @justcallmelittleone @willowshadenox @milfsloverblog @leftoverenvy @yahaqueen @peggycarter3 @lilfartbox1 @makemyworldworthliving @crow-raven-crow @mosscoveredcrucifix @opalthefrog @barbarasstar @giogwensversion

[am-i-the-asshole-official]

WIBTA for leaving a DND campaign abruptly?

Some backstory: I had joined a DND game about 5 years ago right after breaking up with my toxic ex at the time. Me and my ex were both trying to be cordial at this time and ended up both joining a DND game run by a mutual friend.

In our first session, I had noticed my ex made her character be a parody of me that she made look like an awful person. She then kept dm-ing me during our sessions to tell me how to play my character better and other general backseat gaming stuff.

Very quickly, maybe about a month in, I contacted the DM about leaving the campaign due to wanting to distance myself from my ex. She was very upset I wanted to leave and offered to kick my ex from the group instead. I declined saying it would only cause more drama. The DM agreed to let my character go off at the end of the activity we were gonna do that session so it would make sense story-wise.

But this departure did not happen. after that conversation she vague-posted onling about how people dont want to be her friend. She then purposefully kept extending this part of the plot, just so I wouldnt leave the game and could realize it could still be fun. I told her outright I could not do this anymore after 3 more additional sessions and telling me she'll get to my character's exit soon. I always felt like an ass to the other players in the game for leaving them abruptly but I could not do it anymore.

Fast forward roughly 4 years, the DM tells me she is going to make a new campaign and would like for me to join since my ex was no longer in it. I agreed as I had missed playing DND a lot.

For the past year or so I have been in this campaign and it can be fun at times but I still feel out of place. This new session is a direct continuation of the previous campaign's storyline and regularly references it. Now, as far as I know my ex's character has not been referenced at all but I am constantly reminded of this situation whenever they mention a character's name I don't remember (because honestly I don't remember her characters name nor do I want to). I know I said to not bring her up around me but I don't quite trust this friend to keep her word. Simply because I don't think she ever remembers anything I tell her out of a place of... just not caring.

The DM and I just don't quite mesh that well. I don't really like her DM-ing style of making it up as the session happens. I don't like that she will constantly decide what my character is doing, even if I ask to do something, she tells me to roll to see if i can, i can get a nat20 and she will still decide what my character will do next based on what she thinks is funnier to her but makes my next action harder to accomplish.

I have dm'd her to talk about the progression of my character arc (after she constantly implys in session my character is the comedic relief and doesnt have any character development) and she'll go ooo and aaa (literally all she would say) but never actually implement anything I recommend.

I kept saying to myself it will get better in time. I have voiced my wants for my character, and they are ignored. In session, my character actions are essentially decided for me no matter how I roll the dice. It feels weird to be around half of the party bc they spent 4 years in a campaign with my ex who played a parody of me. esp hard after the DM keeps making me be the comedic relief even though I keep trying to play more seriously. other players constantly joke about how my character is gonna be the one that gets them all killed etc because of actions I dont necessarily decide.

Now as mentioned before, DM is also known to vague-blog about how "her friends secretly hate her" at any moment as well. This has happened before after I tried to "real talk" with her a handful of times over unrelated topics too (even if she initiates this conversation)

Given everything above, I want to leave this DND game after giving it a try for a year (really giving it an opportunity to improve). We left off with my character running off alone to get supplies for the party. I was thinking I could make a statement saying I had some personal things come up and I need to leave the game abruptly and leave it to the DM to decide what to do with my character.

Now I feel like I may be the AH because: I am leaving the game abruptly for a second time technically. I would contact the DM on how to make it make sense for my character to depart, but I feel like she will do the same thing as before with the previous campaign and keep putting it off, especially after ignoring my character growth ideas for a year in this current campaign. I also feel like I may be the AH because in character my group does need those supplies, but there is nothing stopping the DM from controlling my character to deliver supplies within the first 5 minutes of the next session.

[phonydiaries]

I am begging politely for something with number 20 from your one word prompt list?? Maybe something fluffy to save me from the angst of whatever bloodbrown has asked for? (Luv you bloodbrown)

Hope you are doing well <3

I am SO excited that not one but two people asked for 20 because I was so so hoping for an excuse to extrapolate on my promise headcanon from this post so here it is! Thank you so much for the ask <3 megafluff ahead!

Promise Me - P x Reader

It was well known that sunny days were not so easy to come by in Krat, a city most commonly overtaken with a stark and looming gloominess. So on a rare sunny day, eager to take advantage of the warmth which so often eluded you at the hotel, you practically dragged P to the kitchen in search of decent picnic-ing supplies. There, you loaded up your pack with sandwiches and fruit and a bottle of some sparkling something-or-other. Pino of course couldn’t really partake in the food, but it was more the aesthetic of the picnic that really mattered, and he had seemed interested in the whole ordeal besides. 

Along with all the goodies, you stuffed a carefully folded blanket and a hardcover book into the pack. Lately you’d spent a great deal of time wandering the library with your trusted puppet, and he’d taken quite the liking to simply lazing about as you read to him in hushed tones, often with his head settled comfortably in your lap, listening intently. 

Now, as you headed for the shimmering daylight of the courtyard you realized one very important piece of the picnic was missing; P himself. You huffed, sure that the damn puppet had wandered off again, as he so loved to do. It was not the first time he’d silently slipped away from you, either distracted or whisked away or otherwise lost in his own thoughts, and you were sure it wouldn’t be the last. 

For the better part of the next hour, you were relegated to the rather painstaking and exhaustive task of lapping the hotel in search of the lost puppet. At one point you even entailed the help of the other hotel’s guests, but neither Sophia nor Eugenie could offer any better guess at where he might’ve disappeared to. Finally, tired, rumpled, and out of breath from your efforts, you stalk back to the courtyard, your head hanging low in anticipation of a far less rewarding picnic alone. 

As you round the path, digging around aimlessly in your bag, you come to an abrupt halt. The picnic pack falls to the ground with a light thunk and the puppet crouched in front of you glances up. He grins in blissful ignorance of the tremendous effort you’d just expended in search of him. He motions for you to come closer and points to a blue butterfly which emerges, glistening, from its cocoon, buried away in the branches of a rosebush. He’s seemingly enamored by the unfurling of the insects iridescent wings, and offers a finger of his legion hand to it gently. 

Lovely, just lovely. You think.

I’ve lost him to a butterfly.

Exasperated, you pinch the bridge of your nose and sigh. “Yes, it’s very beautiful P, don’t get me wrong, but your habit of running off like this is frankly…” you pause, wondering how to put it delicately. “Just. The worst.” 

P’s shoulders sink and he looks almost hurt by this, though you can tell that even he can’t deny his tendency to explore precariously and without warning. It had landed you in loads of trouble at the worst of times, namely active combat, but this was neither here nor there. 

“You know what, I ought to make you promise to knock it off.” P opens his mouth, about to speak before you press a finger to his lips. “No no- a regular old promise won’t do either. Pinky swear it.” You say, offering your finger to him. He only stares blankly at it for a moment, then tips his head quizzically at you. This must be a new concept to him, you realize, and a creeping mischievousness takes root in your mind. With faux bewilderment, you gawk at him. “Your father never told you about pinky promises?” 

Pinocchio shakes his head fervently, now obviously eager to gain this oh-so-coveted knowledge. You take both his hands in yours and speak sotto-voce, as if the matter were of great importance. “It’s an ancient human tradition, a vow of the utmost seriousness. It’s a promise so great that once spoken aloud it would bond the two of us forever!” 

P leans in, enamored, and gestures between the two of you with curiosity. He seems, if anything, eager to engage in the grand ritual you’ve made this silly little thing out to be. You turn away with a saddened look. 

“Though I don’t suppose you’d be interested in such a thing. After all, it’s quite the big responsibility-” But P is already tugging you by the hand and nodding vigorously. You can’t help smiling at his enthusiasm; he is after all, nothing if not incorrigible. 

Swiftly, you situate yourself in the grass across from P. 

“Now,” you start, taking the puppet’s wrist in your hand and turning it over as if in careful examination. “This is a very serious business. I mean it.” P’s chin juts forward and he looks up at you, his head tilted in rapt attention. He looks like such a little boy, you think, sitting criss-crossed in the grass, hanging on your every word. 

“Once the oath is taken we can never ever break our promise. Ever. Are you sure you’re ready for that, P? To pledge your fealty right here, right now?” You ask, punctuating each grave word with a squeeze to his hand. P’s brows knit together in unbearable sincerity as he offers you a lone dutiful nod. 

You exhale deeply, giving P one last solemn look. “Well then. I warned you.” 

You hold your own hand out, elbow resting on your knee, your pinky finger extended in P’s direction. He watches you and with precision copies your posturing. He takes a moment though, to deliberate between his legion and human halves, before propping the fleshy arm upon his knee just the same as you. 

You straighten up a bit and clear your throat, speaking in a manner uncharacteristically clear and commanding. 

“By the power vested in this hand, I, and Pinocchio too of course-” You say, gesturing towards the boy. You assume, being a puppet of few words, he won’t mind you speaking for him. “Swear to always stand by each other's side, ever valiant.” 

P’s gaze is locked with yours as you speak, hanging on your every word. He is painfully earnest, and in a moment of overwhelming fondness for the poor puppet you add, perhaps getting a bit carried away with the whole thing “And.. and to always protect one another, never allowing harm to befall their most trusted friend.” 

You expect some surprise or even protest at this added condition, but instead Pinocchio settles the palm of his legion arm calmly over his heart, leaning ever closer with all the conviction in the world. 

And with that your finger brushes his, and you find much to your surprise, that you’ve begun to believe in your own dumb joke. Somehow, as your tiny fingers lock together, you feel the tremendous weight of this promise in the depths of your heart. You wonder if somehow by mistake you made magic here, in the soft green grass with a puppet much too naive and trusting and eager for his own good. You decide if there truly was an unbreakable contract forged between the two of you this day, you don’t mind. You don’t mind at all. 

When you glance at Pino, you find his eyes squeezed shut, his pinky finger wound tight around yours as if bracing himself. 

“Your oath is sealed.” You say, and watch P’s eyes open one at a time, uncertain. “Bonded for life. How does it feel?” 

P blinks a couple times in consideration, and allows his fingers to thread neatly through yours. With his other hand, he leans in close and presses it firmly but with the utmost care against your chest, and although you know logically he’s only a puppet, you swear you feel warmth radiating from his touch. He presses his forehead tenderly against yours, so close that you feel the breath of his words dance along the surface of your skin. 

“Safe.” He says simply. 

And although the circumstances are silly, you can’t imagine a truer word.

[delta-pavonis]

I would love to hear more about Raspberries and Rum?

*cackles*

OKAY. So this came from a conversation that I had with @wordsinhaled in, no joke, NOVEMBER 2022. And I still haven't written all of it. BUT some of the bits from our conversation are goddamned SOLID GOLD and I am cracking myself up all over again reading the transcript. [Important background science here (just read the title).] Here is me just copy-pasta-ing from Discord with no indication of who is saying what:

hob getting wasted on dream’s jizz because he tastes like a good mixed drink suddenly a thing i need to see Hob as New Inn bartender keeps trying to make a new rum cocktail with raspberry flavor and no one understands why referencing it makes Hob blush, it is just a reference to that cool space data, right? now suddenly need a 5+1 where hob keeps making dream trial raspberry rum cocktails until they find the Perfect One and dream is very bemused Gotta keep going back and comparing to the actual source material apparently raspberry season in the UK starts in june where he’s like fucking. up handmaking raspberry simple syrup in the middle of the night and dream is like “ah, offerings” Because, honestly, he is technically trying to figure out a way to have everyone who orders the drink get drunk on something that tastes like his husband's jizz? And I find that fucking hilarious? Definitely deranged Hob humor mainly because he’s like, do i want everyone to suck your dick? this is reserved for me but do i want everyone to know the JOY of this taste? perhaps However, first time a university student of his orders the cocktail, once it is on the menu, Hob has A Moment of Regret™️  just a moment though i wonder if dream is aware he tastes like this or if he just. came up with the most reasonable taste he felt he would have when composing his physical body, which of course would be nothing like human and of course some esoteric shit like didn’t even think about it once so he keeps trying this drink and being like yes my very competent bartender husband perfecting his fancy raspberry drink i am so proud but hob is looking perpetually more glinty around the eyes each time he gets closer to the mark and dream is like, cottoning on that Something Is Up eventually dream is like “there is some... significance here. that i am missing.” and hob has to turn around and hide his face in his hands because somehow he never thought he’d have to Explain what he was doing especially because i feel like this would be some shit hob would try to do one time in the middle of the night while planning the summer drinks menu and then somehow he’d be neck deep in recipes from google weeks later but then dream is fucking. super out of left field when he finds out like... “you are crafting a libation. to me.” and hob is like uhhhhhhh no???? not actually???? am i??? I mean... just... based... on you? Hob will argue semantics on this dream is like you’re distilling my essence into a drink that all your patrons will imbibe and hob is like uhhh maybe? uuuhhh... maybe I am? okay but dream like THAT’S KIND OF HOT and hob is like I WASN’T TRYING TO BE HOT I WAS BEING STUPID and dream is just. yes. my husband can be very stupid. and very hot "These two things are not mutually exclusive, my dear Hob." of course this has to culminate in “you mean to tell me you don’t know you taste like raspberries and rum? you just made yourself taste all... lovely and you had no idea?” “i had not the faintest idea, indeed.” “you’ve never...?” “i have had no occasion to... sample myself, as it were.” “sample... jesus. alright. what are you, an hors d’oeuvre at the department party?” “no. but it seems i could be its signature drink.” DREAM IS A LIL BITCH hob’s inner exhibitionist cackling at forcing his staid ass colleagues to drink this drink while dream broods in the corner indulgently eyeing his antics everyone like “wow robbie this is a GREAT cocktail mind if i nick the recipe off you” and hob is like “ah no actually, it’s a bit of a jealously guarded secret” NO. Dream overhears and that's how he introduces himself, the little shit "And you are?" "Oh, I am Hob's Jealously Guarded Secret."

Here is the first chapter of the 5+1 that is in that WIP file (under cut because NSFW - cw for drunkenness and blowjobs):

One: May

It starts as a joke. A joke in Hob’s head that he doesn’t tell anyone. Because he knows that after this many years walking God’s green Earth that he can have a slightly warped sense of humor. 

So Hob keeps his motivations to himself and dusts off his bartending skills, back from when he had just opened The New Inn and was still getting the staff up-to-snuff. And then he sets to work. 

He has to figure out the rum first. Actually, Hob knows exactly which rum he would like to use, the second batch of ron miel honey rum by Destilerías Arehucas produced shortly after they opened on Gran Canaria island in 1884, but as far as he can tell there are only three bottles of it left in the world and they are all in his personal collection. 

So Hob called some friends and obtained as wide a variety of current lines of Canary Island honey rum that he could manage. He bided his time until the next Friday night, poured out a shot of each in a row on his coffee table, and proceeded to get fantastically pissed.

(Could Hob have sipped and spit out the liquor as he tasted them? Sure. Was this more fun? Absolutely.)

It was only after Hob was well toasted that Dream sidestepped into his living room. 

Hob was off the couch and on his knees in front of Dream before he even really decided what to do with his drunk-ass self. He was nuzzling into the fly of familiar black jeans and Dream was letting out a surprised hiccup of a moan and Hob was pretty sure his brain had dissolved into giddy bubbles of lust and want.

Long fingers wound into Hob’s hair and held him there as he rocked forward, purring, “Why hello to you, too, Hob Gadling. I did not expect ah!” A gasp when Hob started peeling away the clothing. “Expect quite this manner of hospitality upon my arrival.”

“Gotta…” Hob had the single-minded determination only liquor could provide. “Need to check…”

Dream made a curious hum of an inquiry at that, but Hob didn’t have time to explain. The taste of the rum was already being diluted by all the saliva pooling in his mouth and he needed to compare them. 

It had been just over a year since His Stranger had walked back into his life. Slightly less than that since they realized what absolute idiots they were for each other. It was enough time, given the many many repetitions Hob had to practice, for him to get really fucking good at getting Dream off with his mouth.

Hob, in his infinite need to stroke his own ego, had timed it once. Well, more than once. Many times actually. The current record was 143 seconds from first press of lips to spend. Hob drunkenly thought he could do better than that. Not that he had his phone handy. Ah well, that wasn’t a good reason to not try.

Dream finished getting hard in Hob’s throat, sobbed as Hob swallowed repeatedly. His lover was shaking with it already, Hob preened distantly, and moved to press the tips of his fingers just so into Dream’s perineum. Another press and stroke behind Dream’s balls, this time while Hob sucked with his entire lung capacity as he backed away, and then the Lord Morpheus was coming with a strangled shout right onto Hob’s tongue.

Hob savored it for a moment, eyes closed, cataloging the taste, before swallowing and scrabbling away from Dream to the table. He grabbed the bottle of what he thought was the best flavor match and took a pull from it.

“Oh yeah,” Hob’s ass hit the floor with a thump. “That’s it.”

[pulisicz]

have we been here before? - mason mount

i guess things have come full circle

summary - you and mason used to “date” back in middle school, which then led to a more serious relationship in high school, but due to mason pursuing his football career, you two spilt.

now, years later, you two are reunited.

♡︎

pairing - mason mount x fem!reader

song inspo - n/a

warnings! - none, this is straight fluff

word count - 1.5k

note - i will 100% be making a part 2

-

mason had had a long day. getting back into the season had been hard, especially after the heartbreak of what happened at the world cup.

another loss…

it was hard on all of the guys, but that doesn’t mean that they could just be all sad and not give it 110% for their club teams.

it was, however, nice to get back with the team.

mason had missed all of them a lot, but mainly his two best mates, christian and ben.

“i hate to be the one to say this, but there’s always next time. we had a rough fight, but we did well, lads”. harry maguire says as they all get situated in their plane seats.

after the long plane ride, the boys were finally back in england. yes, loosing the world cup sucked, but being back home was nice.

mason’s sister, stacey, and his mom, picked him up from the airport.

“oh my god, stacey, what are you doing here?” mason said, being more shocked than ever.

his sister lives in australia, and after she and her family came to see mason play, she was supposed to go back to australia, at least that was the plan. but stacey had wanted to surprise mason by visiting england for a little.

the car ride home was nice. he got to catch up with his sister, which was much needed. he also got a moment of peace from all of the craziness in his life, which was very refreshing.

mason didn’t have to go back to chelsea training for another week, so he got to rest and do whatever he wanted for a good while. although mason was excited to spend time with his family and friends, the only thing he could think of at the moment was getting into his bed to take a much needed nap.

-

you were almost done with your errands, the only place left to go to was the grocery store. you went over your list to see what you needed and headed into the store, list and pen in hand.

apples

grapes

saltine crackers

lemonade

lettuce

tomato’s

shredded cheese

caesar salad dressing

croutons

granola bars

you didn’t need much so it shouldn’t be a long trip.

you were almost finished with your list, only a couple items left when you realized you needed to grab more bread.

you are carefully going over your list and assessing what you had already gotten as you turn to the bread aisle, not paying attention to your surroundings. you collide with someone else’s cart, which shake you from your focus.

“oh shit, i’m sorry! i wasn’t looking where i was go-ing…. mason?”

you stand there, unable to think, but trying to think at the same time.

what is he doing here?

“what are you doing here?” you ask, as if it’s not the most obvious answer. he’s obviously getting groceries.

“i’m getting groceries, and you?”

your mind is racing. it had been 5 years since you last saw him. 5 years since the two of you were dating. 5 years since you were your happiest self.

“doing the same. um. how have you been?”

you really had no idea what to say. for someone you used to know so well, you’re acting as if this is your first time meeting.

“i’ve been good. i just back into town today and wanted to run out to get some things. nothing much though. what about you? are you still into photography?”

photography… he remembered

“yes i am! i’m actually studying photography at oxford, along with english. it’s been a really cool experience. — and what do you mean by not much, didn’t you just get back from the world cup? that’s insane mason! you did amazing!”

“thank you. i tried”

-

mason couldn’t believe he ran into y/n. all the memories flooded him.

she still studies photography…

mason remembered everything about her. he remembered how she always wanted to be an author, but had the biggest passion for photography. he remembered how oxford was the only school she wanted to go to. he remembered that she had started writing a book their senior year.

her book.

“did you end up finishing your book?” mason asked remembering about her book.

the book was something y/n had put all her time into. she was not passionate about writing it, and mason was ecstatic for her, but she was still in the very early stages of it when they had broken up, so he never got to see it really come together.

“my book?” y/n seemed puzzled. did she forget about it? did she finish it? does she have no idea what i’m talking about? masons mind started wandering. was it weird that i asked?

y/n stood there think for a few more seconds before her eyes lit up.

“YOU REMEMBER?!”

“how could i forget? you poured your entire heart into that book. i never got to see it come together. did you end up finishing it?”

y/n’s smile faded just a little.

“sadly not. i had to put it on the back burner to focus on my studies, and even now i only work on it from time to time. i still want to finish it though.”

this made mason smile a little. hearing that she was still working on her book made him happy. it was like nothing had changed. y/n was still y/n. the only thing is, is that mason is now a world famous footballer, and y/n is a student at oxford.

“i hate to break this reunion up, but i have to finish my grocery shopping and get back to my dorm. my roommate is going to kill me if i’m not home soon. it was so nice to see you mason”.

no.

no.

mason couldn’t just let her leave like he did to her 5 years ago.

“y/n?”

y/n turned back around before leaving the asile.

“can i get your number? i have gotten a new number since senior year and i really want to get together with you some time”.

y/n walked over to mason and he gave her his phone so she could put in her number.

“i’ll see you later, mason”. y/n said, putting a little emphasis on his name.

the second y/n walked out of the aisle, mason did a little celebration dance before composing himself to finish shopping.

—————————————————————————

“would you want to go to the 49 cafe for brunch tomorrow?”

mason had typed and retyped his text about 5 times. why was he so nervous? is just a date. it’s not even a proper date, it’s just brunch, nothing fancy.

delivered.

-

you were at your desk studying for your upcoming exam in your psych class when your phone lit up.

mason was the name on your screen and your heart skipped a beat. you had hoped he would text sooner than later, but certainly not this early, although you weren’t complaining.

as you read the text you couldn’t help but blush. you pull your knees up on the chair to lean your chin on as you text mason back.

“i would love to! what time?”

you saw the three dots show up almost immediately, which only made you blush more.

“does someone finally have a little boyfriend?” your roommate, emily, asks in a giddy, yet, sarcastic tone. emily has always pushed you to go out more, but being the introvert you were, chose to stay home writing, studying, or editing photos from your photo shoots.

“hmm? oh, no. i just saw a funny video”.

lies.

you had never ever lied to emily, but you couldn’t tell her that you were going on a date with mason mount.

“you’re lying, i know you too well”.

emily hops off her bed and makes her way towards you. you knew you were a bad lier, but no matter how good the lie was, emily would always see right through you.

“so, what’s his name?”

“mason”

emily starts smiling and jumping up and down.

“y/n finally has a boyfriend” emily says in a sing-song type voice while skipping around in a circle like a 5 year old.

“i don’t have a boyfriend, em. it’s just brunch”.

well, i did have a boyfriend.

you hadn’t told emily about mason yet, and you weren’t ever planning on telling her, but being reunited with mason might have to bring you to tell her, but that was a problem for another day.

you look back at your phone to see if mason had texted back the time for tomorrow, and as expected, the blue bubble has appeared.

“11 AM?”

you look at your schedule to make sure you definitely don’t have any classes at that time, and after seeing you have nothing, you text him back.

“works for me”

“perfect. i’ll see you tomorrow, y/n”

[definesanity]

The Divine Comedy

Spoilers for the Finale of Murder Drones.

She awoke with a gasp, which then turned into a cough, and then a wheezing gasp.

Uzi's optics were damaged, and could only see errors beyond her vision.

Audio feed was also bugged. It sounded like rain... where was she?

Before that thought ended, her body automatically shut itself down.

-----------

[C: YOU DOING GOOD, THERE?]

[U: Bite me, what the fuck happened???]

[C: SHRUG. AFTER THAT LITTLE TEST. QUESTION MARK EMOJI.]

[U: Greeeeeeeat.]

[BOOTUP_STARTED: WAKE UP, IDIOT.]

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

Tessa James Elliot had just about finished repairing the Worker Drone's left hand when it jerked.

And in that moment, green eyes met neon purple-yellow. Tessa didn't even know that was an actual colour combo until then.

Uzi quickly got to her legs, but then they gave out, and she cursed.

"Woah, woah, easy th--!"

Uzi pointed the Solver at the girl. Her feeds were all working.

[C: TESSA?]

Uzi shook her head. Think later. "Don't even think about coming closer!"

Tessa, surprisingly, listened, and took a step back. Due to Uzi's visual feed being mixed with whatever the hell the Solver's had, she could see Tessa for what she truly looked like.

And... she didn't look that bad. Now that she isn't a skin-suit.

Black hair with a bow framed a small face, green eyes glowing, almost. A simple black dress and heels, too. Was this just her. Every day look?

[C: WISFTUL SIGH. SHE LOOKED, SO NICE, DIDN'T SHE?]

Uzi ignored the Solver in her head, looking back at the girl. "Who are you? And--where the heck am I?!"

Tessa slowly raised her hands up in surrender. "Woah, um. As much as I appreciate the caution, could you, er. You know? With the. Glowy thing?"

Uzi squinted. Then, deactivated the Solver. She did ask nicely. And Uzi was nice. Sometimes. Blame N.

"...Okay," the human let out a breath. "I'm Tessa. This is my home. I saw you were damaged and was repairing you when you suddenly booted back up."

[C: GENUINE.]

[U: We can trust her?]

[C: MAYBE. BE CAREFUL, UZI.]

[U: What's with the care?]

[C: YOU DIE, I DIE. PLUS...]

"...Thanks." Uzi eventually said. It's the least she can say. "...My name is Uzi."

"...What, like, the gun?"

"...Yeah. Like the gun."

Tessa squinted at her. "Kinda cringe, girl."

Uzi's eyes flickered at that. "Ex-fucking-cuse you?!"

A noise was heard from outside the room, and Tessa made a shushing motion with her finger.

After a moment, the noise stopped.

"...Okay, sorry! I shouldn't talk given what my middle name is but--still!"

Uzi raised an eyebrow. Then, sighed, pinching the bridge of her non-existent. "Fine, agree to disagree, I guess."

Silence was between them. Then, Tessa coughed into her hand.

"I, er. Like your eyes. Cool colour combo."

Uzi shrugged. "Thanks. Green suits yours, too."

Uzi then mentally face-palmed. She forgot about the censor.

[C: GOD F%*£ING D@!&IT. YOU HAD ONE JOB, SM@R%-@$$]

Tessa looked almost owlish. "You... can see me? Like. No censored thingamajig or, whatever?"

Cat's outta the bag, and Uzi hopes she won't be, either.

"...Ye--?"

Tessa appeared in front of her so fast Uzi nearly thought she had teleported.

"A damaged visual feedback???"

"Er--kinda???"

"That is SO COOL! I knew that Worker Drones can be cool, but this??? Ha! Just wait until you see I'm right, Mum!"

Oh great.

"Your, uh. Mother?" Uzi croaked out in sheer confusion.

"...Oh, right, right! Sorry, should be more formal, I guess." Tessa cleared her throat, and attempted to make herself look taller. "Miss Uzi, on behalf of. Me. I would like for you to stay in the manor and um. Work. For me. Please? Kinda sudden, I know! But. You know?"

Uzi blinked. On one hand, no. On the other...

Ack. Now that she's thinking clearly, Tessa is her only shot at actually surviving for longer than ten whole minutes...

"...Let's say I did. What do I have to do?'

"Nothing... toooooooo arduous?" Tessa said, seemingly unsure herself. Great. Wonderful.

She moved back towards Uzi, twiddling her thumbs, eyes shifty. "I-I mean, sure, there's plenty we have already, but, what we need is like a... 'elite' squad? I guess? And you seem to know your stuff."

Uzi rolled her eyes.

"Thanks. I know literally how to pirate stuff and maybe do that. Thing." she then paused. "Am I gonna have to change my clothes?"

"..." Tessa made a thinking expression. "...Eh, it'll be fine, probably. Welcome aboard!"

She gave out a hand to shake. Uzi, after a second, shook it.

"Thanks." she then remembered. "By the way, if you have any excess oil, could you, um. Pass it to me? My, er. Motors need it. I overheat. Easily."

Tessa waved her off. "I noticed. Don't worry! I'll be sure to slide you some."

Uzi didn't respond.

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

Just like the average timeskip in. Most stories.

Uzi now was in the service of the Elliot family. Tessa was alright. Cyn definitely played her well, not gonna lie.

Her parents, though... ugh.

They thought that Tessa hanging out with 'someone like her' will 'sully' her mind.

They're right. Except she already did it.

Uzi didn't do friends. Until she met N. And then V. And now also kinda literally everyone else.

She often snuck Tessa manga, and some pirated anime, from her own memory, and projected it on to the wall. Elliot seniors usually don't go and check up on Tessa, leading to the two hanging out.

It felt... good. Nice, even.

After finishing another episode of 'Delicious In Dungeon', Tessa's stomach rumbled, and she groaned to herself.

"Uugh... why did we choose the food anime...??" she moaned out, and Uzi looked at her in disbelief.

"Wha--my sister in Robo-Satan! YOU chose the anime!"

"I didn't know the food was gonna look that good!"

She sighed, and leaned back into her bed.

"...Hey."

"What?" Uzi's eyes flickered up.

"For someone who said they've never worked an hour at a job, you're... alright. When it comes to sorting."

"Blame Autism.exe for that." she rolled her eyes, "Still, what brings this up?"

Tessa rolled over, so that her head was upside-down and looking at Uzi's eyes. "Just... you're literally my first friend."

Uzi blinked at that. And then it made sense.

Technically, in the first... er. What. Timeline? She guesses? It was J.

Now, though...

"...Same here, gonna be honest." Uzi replied quietly. "It's... ugh. No one seemed to like the "goth girl", so I was thrown into the bin. Figuratively and literally."

Tessa looked at Uzi with a complicated expression. This is why she doesn't like humans. Their faces are far too expressive for her liking.

"...Say, on that note, you've been hiding something, haven't you." Uzi asked. It wasn't an accusation, just a fact.

"...W-Well, uh. You see, you do a good job! Really! But, when it comes down to it, you're just. One Drone, ya know? It's... ugh, crikey, this is difficult to say..."

Eventually, she just shrugged and gave up. "I found... a teammate? I guess? J, I've called her! She seems a bit... rough, but, trust me, you'll love her!"

[C: DOUBT. SHE SEEMED TO, DISLIKE YOU GREATLY, MY DEAR HOST.]

[U: I WONDER why. Truly, I do.]

[C: I HAD NO DICTATION IN THAT. SHRUG EMOJI. PERHAPS SHE, MERELY JUST HATED YOU.]

[U: Well, I also hate me, so hip-hip-hooray!]

"...Well, don't knock it until you try it, I guess. Sure." Uzi had gotten much better at hiding what she truly thought. It came with years of having Cyn stuck in her head.

"Perfect! J, you can come in now!"

"Wait, she was just waiting--?"

Uzi cut herself off, seeing who stood now in the room, and who had been hiding in the closet. Literally. And probably figuratively, too.

"...Hey, Boss." J gave a salute to Tessa. And then, turned to Uzi, and gave the same salute. "Hey, Chief."

...Uzi won't lie. She liked the sound of that.

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

"Lift!"

It was like a well-oiled machine. Except it's two well-oiled Worker Drones. Which is close enough.

James and Louise Elliot enjoyed the high life, Uzi had learnt; parties were a common occurrence, and so it led to many things being needed to be prepared in a short amount of time.

Still, out of every Drone in the manor, Uzi and J remained at the top of their workload. It also managed to see J with more screen time. Because if this were an anime, J would have had at least just. Ten minutes. And that's it.

She was annoying, but it came with her coding. JCJenson seemed to have added a part of code to her which forced her to act like companies, and JCJenson was at the top.

Thankfully, what with the goth's new role as 'Chief', J seemed to not be as biting. She regards Uzi with... almost respect? She isn't sure. She's never been respected.

Sure, there was that time she saved everyone's asses, but she did that because the Defence Force weren't. Plus, that wasn't respect, it was just thankfulness. Now, sure, that definitely fueled her ego for the next 24 hours after it, but after that it became a series of unfortunate events. Like. Holy Robo-Jesus.

[C: IN A WAY, YOU YOURSELF ARE NOW "ROBO-JESUS".]

[U: Which, by default, makes you Robo-Satan?]

[C: MM. MAYBE. OR, PERHAPS, THE HOLY SPIRIT?]

'More like unholy...' Uzi thought to herself.

It's... strange. But, hey, Uzi isn't dead yet, so that's a plus.

She came to the past out of an experiment she tried with the Solver. Being basically God came with perks, and she was just using them, was all.

And now, she's here.

In her eyes? Worth it!

[astarionfixation]

Chapter 5: *Who said it's no fun to play with your food?*

Part of "Am I Fu**ing Insane !?!" A multi chapter adventure in Astarion’s mind

Rating: Mature for mentions of sex and genitals in this one

Word count count: 2.5k

Pairings: Astarion X OFC Tav

AO3 link: https://archiveofourown.org/works/54356776/chapters/138187864

I have a quite serious praise kink. Which also means compliments in the forms of tags and/or comments might very well spur me to write and post more

** Thoughts "" Dialogue - - Remarks ++ Quotes / Memories

“Why didn’t you just say you are a vampire?”

 He can’t say he’s surprised to hear that question on her lips. Even though yes, this unexpected turn of events decidedly threw a wrench in the timeline of confessions he had carefully planned out. She was supposed to feel safe and desired enough before he would have conceded to that little insignificant admission. Of course they would have gotten there. 

 But at the same time his wildest fantasies had been tame compared to the beautifully warm creature whose red lips are now unequivocally stained with the very same blood he gorged upon

 *I must have missed a spot*

 He smiles to himself, because this accidental expedient proved she yearns for more of him than he even shared with her. And if he has her fascination with immortality to thank for it he bears no issue with it. 

 *It still means I have her wrapped around my finger*

 And who knows how that sweetly obedient side of hers could be put to use soon. His tongue darts out to lick his own lips and indeed, he can still taste the last remnants of the bear’s bloodshed.

 The hold his hand has on her head becomes softer, his fingers running the length of her hair until it reaches the small of her back, pressing lightly so that now she's flush against him again. But this time without any drink to hide intentions behind.

 *At least from her side*

 His eyes search hers and he still finds nothing but curiosity and fascination. A scrumptious half truth starts taking form in his head in answer to her question, and after all, since being allowed out in the sun there are heaps more of energy required of him that all the bears in the world could not satisfy.

Surely the next natural step, considering her infatuation with him, would be playing her just right, so that his need for her blood would see her offer herself freely.

 That is good enough to hide the lie amongst the truth.

 “Because, my darling, you were all lucky enough not to fit my needs nor requirements for a meal”

 She can hold his gaze far longer than this surreal conversation should allow a human, but the look on her face seems still more enticed than disgusted so time to test his luck and set his scheme into action…

 “How long have you known, you clever little thing?”

His hand is now tracing up her back until it reaches the nape of her neck, his fingers grasp at her dark, thick curls for a moment just so she can feel the pull… before releasing her, and he can tell her words come after a soft whimper escapes her throat at that

 “I had my suspicions for a while… if it’s of any consolation I don’t think anyone would have suspected a thing had they not… an interest in the subject”

 The habit of deflection reaches his lips out of a pattern that exists to tempt and be suggestive that is hard to affect

 “Subject, huh? Did you wish to undress me so you could study me better then, darling?”

 And he catches himself just on the edge of what would be the revelation that he knows far more than she has conceded just within the last day, though… is that embarrassment? Now? Not when they were basically dry humping in bed this morning, not at the blood she kissed from his face… now?

 “I… I just have questions… I promise I will keep your secret… I just need to understand”

 And that's when it occurs to him: in a way she's looking at him with the same hardly contained excitement she had for a plant she had only read in books before. 

 *How adorable when she tries to keep lucid*

 He releases her to hear a delicious sound akin to lamentation coming from her lips, surely at the loss of his embrace. He takes one step after another and he's now walking a tight circle around her so that he can study each reaction of her body from every angle. Not dissimilar from a predator stalking his prey. As he comes behind her his hands graze upon her shoulders, making sure his voice comes out as thick honey whispered directly in her ear

 “Oh I know you will keep my secret sweet thing, I know. I just think you should make it worth my while”

 He can hear the way she swallows around nothing, she doesn't know what's best for her because it seems like nothing will advise her hesitation now…

 “Of course… I…”

 *Well, well, well, who said it's no fun to play with your food?*

 With his hands he gathers her long, luscious locks to her back, he repeats the gesture slowly until he's holding her hair in his fist, whilst with his free hand he begins to draw soft patterns on her shoulder, reaching to the front of her neck, forcing her head to bend back and rest upon his chest

 “I will answer, truthfully, each and every question you have on my… condition… but in exchange, I would like to try something my darling… I only need you to say Yes”

“Then Yes”

 *Well that was fast!* Her answer comes after leaving no silence lingering at all. She isn’t even trying to dissimulate her eagerness.

 “Aren't you even going to ask me what you’re agreeing to?”

 But in the next breath she’s already starting her line of questioning

 “So, no food then? No sleep?”

 And that’s how the silent agreement starts then. Neither of them spelt it out but she certainly knows what she’s agreed to. His hands let go of their grip on her so that his pacing -stalking- can resume

 “As an elf I can still trance, it’s been more peaceful since… joining you, so I’ve embraced it again”

 “But no food?”

 “I have only fed on animals, boars, hares, the odd bear like today when I’ve been particularly lucky”

There is absolutely no need for her to know about his diet before he was freed from Cazador's grasp, and all those beasts sound certainly more... dignifying than...

Her inquisitions keep coming, one after the other, and he has to wonder how long she’s been preparing for this. The corner of his eye never leaves her face to not miss any change in her expression, while still pacing slowly, resting for a second in front of her to slowly trace her arms, her collarbones, the back of her hands, and every single spot his fingers decide to mark her, making sure that when the time comes to claim her as his, she will be used to his touch. 

 *And she doesn't even flinch, the vixen!*

 “And you’ve never killed… turned anyone?”

 *Ah yes, that’s where we were headed*

 “Killed when needed but… My master… he made it clear, it was one of his fundamental rules, I could not drink from thinking creatures, and no… as a spawn I cannot turn you… or anyone for that matter. I would need to drink from Cazador and become a full Vampire Lord… but that doesn’t happen often…”

 His pacing comes to a halt so as to measure her reaction to the revelation.

 *Is the knowledge that I can’t give her eternity going to be the end of this sweet little game?*

 “How did he turn you? When…”

*Apparently not then…*

 “About two centuries ago, give or take. I was bleeding out and he offered to keep me alive… it seemed an obvious choice at the time”

 She’s impassible, pressing her interrogation with methodical rigour it almost reminds him of the unremitting inquisitions of what is but a fleeting memory of his days as a Magister.

 “Do you regret it?”

 He takes a moment… how to put this best without breaking his promise of truth?… Then again why should He care as if he ever concerned himself with the authenticity of anything that left his lips beyond what it would get him?

 “A vampire spawn is a slave to their master. The simple fact I can be here instead of at his beck and call is only due to the wriggling worm in our heads. Trust me sweet thing, I have stories that would make you reconsider immortality under my circumstances”

 It’s worth a poke, it’s worth checking if her seemingly resolute position towards eternity is changeable now that she can find out about it from someone who has been experiencing it in less than a glamorous manner.

 “What did he ask of you?”

 “Only to hunt, to prowl, to find sacrifices for him. Every night I’d go out to entice the most beautiful creatures so that before sunrise they would come willingly to Cazador’s palace and meet their demise”

 She pauses for a moment *Finally!* as if to ponder her next line of questioning. Her eyes search for something and when they find him again she seems… hesitant? shy?

 “Why not drink the blood of the people he… sent you to find?”

 *Oh yes, somehow this is what shakes her… well… let’s see how much then* 

And with that though his next words are measured and pour out as tempting as he can make it sound

 “The word you are looking for is “seduce” my darling.”

 Yet she's relentless, the words come out steady despite the rosiness that's clearly rushing to her cheeks. How he'd love to put to the test that implacable persistence of her in other, much less appropriate contexts.

 “Why the seduction?”

 His gaze caresses her up and down till his eyes halt on hers again, he licks his lips as if she’s the most delectable course of a meal. He closes the distance between them to let his fingers reach for her chin, to make her feel the pull and she can’t look away from him now.

“It worked on you darling, didn’t it?”

 How refreshing to be almost honest, to play in the open and still see her struggle not because she wishes to escape but if anything because of how she tries to fight her own bashfulness

 “I am not… we… you really never broke his rules?”

 “Not his rules… but I held back on his command once. Only once. He buried me alive for what seemed like forever, truly eternity’s way to turn into a curse… you can’t imagine his reach… this is actually my best chance to disappear while I can still walk in the sun…”

 “You couldn’t?”

 “Not before the tadpoles, no.”

 “Why the rules? Why keep you from… people?”

 “I am not sure, but knowing him I’d wager to keep his control over me? Maybe your blood holds some secret to my own strength…”

 That's when she finally catches her breath, her eyes searching for something... is she trying to find words? Her? Whose unyielding mind would not let go, desperately grasping at things he didn't even know he could portray when a flash of her words, committed to paper, comes back to him, to remind him, if he ever needed, how certainly she must care, beyond his nature, beyond immortality... otherwise why...

 +Maybe the disappointment Astarion carries in his eyes is resignation to the eagles eating his exposed liver, while doves never nested around his heart+

 The memory comes in her voice and it becomes entangled in her actual next sentence

 “Maybe you should find out…”

 *Oh should I !?!*

 At that sweet concession he can’t help but relent a little confession of his own, surely just to make her feel as if they were peers in this exchange, his eyes soften and a smile, as sincere as he can conjure, barely pulls at his lips

 “Aren’t you even a little bit scared? My ego would be extremely grateful if you could ever so slightly tremble”

 But she holds his gaze as if everything else is redundant now, and from the recess of his mind beautiful images come back. Her face contorted in an expression of pure, unadulterated pleasure, as he pins her to a tree, his cock buried within her wet softness and finally, his fangs get to be inhumed in her flesh too, piercing the thin resistance put up by her skin and *Maybe there is nothing else I would need, for a moment at least*

 “I want to help… maybe we can both help each other”

 Her words bring him back to the glade, and the twitch in his lower abdomen reminds him there needs to be a time and place to set the stage for those mesmerising visuals to become reality.

 *Careful what you wish for little dove*

 He studies her with what he hopes looks inviting for her when truly, she’s managed to bring back a tinge of hunger in his guts even after he devoured an entire damn bear! He lets the silence hang on just a bit longer, hopefully feeding her doubt and therefore desire to do anything and more to please him now that they are so close to share an intimate moment.

 “Why don’t we take this delightful conversation… somewhere more private?”

 She nods, and his hand goes back to her neck to be entombed within her soft curls as his thumb grazes lightly on her jaw, pressing just enough to force her to bend her head back, exposing that delicious spot just behind her ear

 “How about… you work your magic on that tonic for our friends…”

He relents from the grip on her hair, just so the back of his hand can now caress one of her soft cheeks to punctuate and emphasise the words

 “You make sure you have a proper supper, none of this morning nonsense”

 The hand now reaches for her other cheek and he can tell the touch alone, his skin still warmer from the bear meal, does something to her, because her lips part slightly, silently. His voice lowers suggestively, leaving the implications linger in the air at his next sentence

 “If we’re going to do this properly… I can't have you faint or anything like that…” 

 And he doesn’t even need to spell it out for her and she’s already letting out a breath that’s on the verge of becoming a moan at the unspoken idea of what they both know is going to happen… she wanted to help after all, she kissed the blood from his own skin…

 *She wants to be tasted*

 That thought makes him swallow on nothingness as well, but he finds this plan laid out for the evening a delicious tease… which he wants to make harder for her as well. His head lowers slightly while his fingers reach for the nape of her neck, grazing the skin with just the tip of his nails, bringing her close… his lips brushing against that tender, pulsating spot that is just pushing relentlessly against his mouth. He plants a soft, open mouthed kiss on it, and he sucks her skin in just enough to make sure a faint bruise will appear. 

 Then his last words before he leads her back are spoken just against her outer ear.

 “And once you retire for an early night… I will come see you in your chamber.”

[yukihime242]

If you have been following the Genshin Impact (Genshin) news lately, you would have more or less heard about the Chinese players instantly unfollowing Genshin in all of their socials, including the companies that has collaborated with Hoyoverse.

I know there are a lot of people talking about it and you'd be wondering, "is this going to be another one of those posts?"

Truthfully, I don't know because I don't really plan what I write here... The most I do is just go back and read from the top to make sure I am making sense, not unintentionally offending anybody, and editing parts that needs to be edited.

So, just humour me and join me on this wild ride, yeah?

(GIF Source: Pinterest thru' Google Image Search)

First off, for the benefit of those who are blissfully unaware of what is going on, Hoyoverse announced in their 4.4 Special Programme that they are giving away three intertwined fates and some other stuff to players for all of their support for the past three years.

I know that line is going to piss some people off already like, three? THREE? HONKAI STAR RAIL GETS A F***ING 5 STAR CHARACTER FOR FREE AND WE ONLY GET 3 INTERTWINED FATES??

(GIF Source: Giphy thru' Google Image Search)

Okay, CHILL PEOPLE CHILL!

You chose to open the "Keep Reading" so give me a chance to write something, yeah?

(GIF Source: Tenor thru' Google Image Search)

So, yeah, that is technically what people were mad about because the rewards, in Hoyoverse fashion, were stingy.

Honestly, I can understand why they decided to give three intertwined fates because, as they said, it is for the past THREE years players have been supporting the game. Seeing the link?

But of course, it is also considered injustice to, not only the players, but also the game itself.

Like I mentioned earlier, Honkai Star Rail (HSR) has a free 5-star character... not just any 5-star character, a FEATURED 5-star character... being sent out to all HSR players through the in-game mail system.

In case some of you are not HSR players and are also blissfully unaware of the significance of this terrible news, it is just like Hoyoverse giving out a free Zhongli to all Genshin players on the first year of the game's release.

Many Genshin veterans here can tell you that Genshin has never received a free featured 5-star character in the first two years of the game's release. The free characters that we keep getting are all 4-stars, and most of the time, we already have them at C6 from our attempts to get the featured 5-star banners.

Before I go any further, what I just mentioned is only part of the reason why players are so mad at Hoyoverse.

The other reason to why all of this big hoohaa is simply because of the way the message was conveyed.

I missed the Special Programme and wasn't aware of how bad it was until a Content Creator in TikTok covered this. I was aware of players unfollowing Genshin on the socials but not what the TikToker covered.

Basically, it was the way the appreciation message was delivered. At first, I thought people were just exaggerating. Just before I started writing this post, I went to search for the Special Programme and watched it.

I stand corrected.

If you would like to see that part of the Special Programme in case you, too, did not watch it or do not recall there was such an incident, I have posted the link below and it should direct you to the moment where they announced the rewards.

(Video Source: Genshin Impact on YouTube, Version 4.4 Special Program Video)

It is just like the TIkToker said in his video. There is a difference when saying "😭❤️I appreciate you guys❤️😭" and "😐I appreciate you guys😐".

Of course, we all would like to have the first one, but unfortunately, the young announcer was more towards the second one.

For the record, I don't blame him. He could have been tired, or had a bad day, and it is totally fine. I think what really pisses players off is, truthfully, the timing of everything.

This is where I get back to my previous point earlier. HSR gave out a free featured 5-star character within its first year release, and Genshin is giving out only three intertwined fates, along with some other things, as an appreciation gift for the three years support.

It is time to make a statement here, people.

Hoyoverse, it is not about the way the message was delivered. It is about the blatant favoritism you are showing through your games. We all get that Honkai Impact 3rd was the game that pulled you guys to the top and it is perfectly fine if that game has a special place in everybody's hearts in the Hoyoverse company. But it is not right to do things like this.

I'd rather Hoyoverse take back the 5-star character in HSR to make it fair across all games. To be honest, if Hoyoverse doesn't start to treat Genshin with more respect it deserves, the game is essentially going to lose a lot of players.

I have said my piece. I know Hoyoverse is never going to look at this but I really hope that they realise that what they are doing to the non-Honkai games is really creating animosity between themselves and the player-base.

Alright, so, congrats to those of you making it this far down here. I honestly think that I may have lost some of you guys half-way through the posts because it's technically the same as what everybody else is saying.

I am not going to prevent you guys from commenting or giving your opinions on the matter, but, just keep it civil, okay? 😉 Even if you don't want to, it's fine as well. I am just glad you read through the whole thing.

(GIF Source: Pinterest thru' Google Image Search)

[separatist-apologist]

Straight To My Head

I want to be where you are

Summary: All Nesta wants is to live outside of London in peace. She would like nothing more than days filled with books and quiet- a dream made impossible by the Scotsman determined to relive past battle glories on her front lawn

Big thanks to @dustjacketmusings who gave me the idea of LARP-ing Cassian, and @the-lonelybarricade for being my UK consultant once again.

Part 2: Where You Are, I Call Home | Read AO3 | Part 1

Nesta didn’t want to stay the night and as it turned out, neither did Elain. Nesta might have missed her sister sneaking out of the castle had she not been heading to the kitchen for tea, certain it was far too early to bother her. Elain hadn’t been able to meet Nesta’s eyes as she said she had things to finish and a deadline to meet, and Nesta didn’t push her. 

Though, she was curious as hell. 

And though she and Cassian had left things at a mostly decent place, Nesta was strangely embarrassed by the entire thing. It had been a moment of weakness, kissing him, and if she hadn’t just been bombarded by Tomas, she might have resisted him.

She felt immense shame Cassian had guessed what had happened with Tomas and more shame still that he wanted to avenge her. She could take care of herself. She didn’t need him. 

Elain and Nesta drove in utter silence. It was so unlike Elain not to fill the void, but everytime Nesta looked over at her younger sister, Elain was chewing on her bottom lip, her knuckles white from how tightly she gripped the steering wheel. And Nesta knew better—would have wanted the same silence had it been her lost in thought. Maybe Elain was regretting her choice to leave Graysen. Nesta could admit Feyre and Rhys seemed very in love, and their wedding had made her heart thud, had made her conscious of just how close Cassian was on that altar or how every time she dared to look at him, he was staring back with those burning eyes.

More brown than green.

Shut up, Nesta.

Elain dropped Nesta off at the train station, though she offered to take Nesta the entirety of the way. Nesta could see Elain wanted to get back—was already so far out of her way, and another three hours would be cause for Elain to spend the night before she could head back. So Nesta said no, pretended like Elain’s relief didn’t bother her, and finished her journey just in time to beat sunset.

She crawled into bed and tried very hard not to think of Cassian’s mouth, or his hands, or how he’d stopped her when she’d tried to find out what was under his kilt. 

She failed, of course. Nesta was wound up, had used her fingers instead of getting up to dig out a vibrator, while imagining it was Cassian’s mouth between her legs. She’d come, and though it was hardly satisfying, it did help her sleep. Nesta meant to sleep in. There was nothing on the schedule, and Cassian was a good three hours away from her. He’d be drinking with Rhys or Azriel—maybe flirting, maybe—

A pounding on the door pulled Nesta from sleep at seven am. She could hear it echoing through the castle, so loud she swore the walls shook. Nesta kicked off the blankets, still in a thin strapped, too clingy red night dress that cut just to her mid-thigh. Still foggy from sleep, it didn’t occur to Nesta that it wouldn’t be the police on the other end, come to warn her of some terrible tragedy.

Just a very, very irritated Cassian. She yanked open the door, eyes wide to find him with one hand raised. It fell the second he saw her, his lips parting as if to say oh.

“What?” she demanded, crossing her arms over her chest in both an attempt to hide her breasts and to convey her irritation. “You scared me half to death.”

He was staring at her face like he’d never seen her before. “Ye left, ye…yer hair.”

Nesta blinked. “Yes? What about my hair.”

“I’ve never seen ye wear it down,” he finally said, cocking his head to the side. Nesta swallowed, resisting the urge to touch it. Her hair was long, the tips touching the swell of her ass. Nesta’s mother had always cut her hair, brushing the strands with gentle fingers all the while cooing how lovely Nesta was.

My pretty girl.

Usually such words were reserved for Elain, but in those moments, Nesta had all her love and affection. After she died, Nesta had tried only once to go to some woman in London. She’d been fine, but when she called Nesta pretty, Nesta had started screaming at her to never say such things again, and afterward, refused to let anyone touch her hair. And while Feyre had kept her hair just beneath her shoulders, and Elain at her waist, Nesta would have let her hair fall to the floor before anyone ever took another pair of shears to it. 

“It’s a nuisance,” she said to Cassian, wishing he could just be normal and ogle her. 

“It’s lovely,” he breathed, taking a step toward her. Nesta slammed the door between them, stopped by his foot wedged between the frame to keep her from pushing her out.

“I thought we were done with this,” he said, some of his anger returning. That was better. She could work with that. 

“Why? Because you pushed me against a wall and kissed me–”

“Ye kissed me back,” he all but growled. Nesta scoffed, as if she hadn’t touched herself to that very mouth now twisted with anger.

“A moment of weakness,” she replied, holding his gaze. “It won’t be happening again.”

His brows shot up. “Oh? Is that so? Won’t be happening again, ye say?”

“Yes, Cassian.”

“Is this because I wanted tae take it slow? Ye’re mad—”

“No!” Nesta snapped, hating how her cheeks burned with embarrassment. “That would have been a mistake. It’s all a mistake.”

“Ye know what I think?”

“I think you’re going to tell me, regardless of my opinion,” she said dryly, though in truth Nesta wanted him to push open that door and force his way in. Wanted him to shove her back against the wall and kiss her until she didn’t hear the sound of her own thoughts.

“I think ye talked yerself out of me. I think yer scared I’m like tae other bawbags—”

“I’m not scared of you,” she lied. His eyes flashed, a smile creeping up his face.

“Ye are. Ye don’t need tae be, but ye are. Why, mo chridhe?”

“You’re delusional,” she retorted, heart hammering in her throat. “You’ve convinced yourself there is something between us—”

“There is something between us,” he replied, smug and self-assured. “And ye ran off yesterday instead of talking tae me about it.”

“There’s nothing to say.”

Cassian withdrew his shoe, stepping back into the Highland gloom. She knew what he expected—for her to slam the door in his face, to shut him back out. She wanted to want to do that…but the idea of closing Cassian out entirely made her stomach churn. So Nesta kept the door cracked, looking at him through the sliver, and Cassian remained where he was.

Watching. 

Waiting for her to slice him to ribbons—she could see the set of his shoulders, the way he held himself, slightly hunched as though he were physically preparing himself for a physical blow. Had she done that? Nesta swallowed.

“I’m not that kind of girl, Cassian. Alright? I just…let it go.”

“Ye are,” he murmured, his voice so impossibly soft. “Yer mine, Nes. Ye don’t have tae be that girl for anyone else—ye already are, tae me.”

“Cass—”

“I’m not going anywhere. Even if I have tae stage loud battles all day, every day just tae get ye to come out and shout at me.”

“I will,” she warned him. 

“I’ll hold ye tae it,” he replied, an easy smile gracing his features.

-*-

Nesta ought to have known she was way over her head the moment Cassian first kissed her. Certainly, by the time he’d come to her door to declare she was his. Nesta had always been good at lying to herself, and for a week, she managed to convince herself that he’d tired of her and her refusal and moved on. Sure, he kept coming back to the lawn with his canons and guns and tourists, yelling louder than before in a bid for her attention.

And yes, he was walking groceries up to her door each evening, clearly hoping she’d eventually invite him inside. Unaware she watched from a window overhead, willing herself to thank him but never actually doing it. 

Nesta could have done that forever, had she not had to go into town. It was, as usual, all Elain’s fault.

“What do you mean, masquerade ball?” Nesta hissed, the sun beating down on her neck as she made her way down the drive.

“I didn’t think I needed to explain,” came Elain’s snappish voice. What had gotten into her, Nesta wondered. Perhaps her tenant had finally chased away her sweetness. That, Nesta thought, wasn’t such a bad thing. 

“I’m not going—”

“You have to go,” came Elain’s no-nonsense tone. “People already say we ran away, that we’ve become spinsters—”

“Maybe they’re right. You go, tell them I’m…dead—”

“Nesta! Don’t make me do that. It’s one night. Bring anyone you like or no one at all. Feyre will be there with Rhysand and he’s still shiny enough to distract people from your non-existent love life—”

“And your broken engagement?” Nesta asked, trying to get a rise out of Elain. All she got was an exasperated sigh. 

“Exactly. People will stop gossiping about us so much if they see us looking healthy, and they get to talk to an actual duke, and you won’t have to come back until Christmas.”

“And you’ll be there?” Nesta confirmed.

“Of course. Where else would I be? I love parties, after all.” But there was a sour note to her words that Nesta couldn’t decipher. 

“Is everything fine?”

“Of course,” Elain, that liar, replied. As if Nesta, the queen of lying about her feelings, didn’t recognize what Elain was doing. “Make sure you’re there. If you need a dress, send me your measurements and I’ll have one shipped to you.”

And that was that. Elain ended the call before there could be any more questions and Nesta didn’t particularly care to push. Nesta made her way to Emeries, thinking of this end of the summer party her father was hosting. It was so transparent, so pathetically obvious he was trying to use Feyre’s new husband to enrich himself that Nesta nearly texted Elain she wouldn’t go before turning her phone off for a week. 

She didn’t trust Elain not to march across the country and drag her there herself, and that seemed humiliating. Nesta would go, just to see her sisters, drink on her fathers dime, and vanish before anyone had the chance to question her about how many cats she owned.

None.

Yet.

“Ye alright?” Emerie asked when Nesta pushed in, rising up from the chair behind the counter. 

“Just my ridiculous father and his ridiculous parties. My sister wants me to go–”

“What kind of party?”

“A masquerade,” Nesta replied glumly. “I don’t understand why people love them so much.”

“Romantic, I suppose,” Emerie said with shining eyes. “Yer going, then? Do ye need anything?”

“Not unless you know someone who can make me a floor length dress in a month and a half. In black,” Nesta added, cackling privately to herself. Everyone would be in warm colors—except her, the spinster.

The bogwitch. 

“Actually, I do,” Emerie said brightly. “I could, if ye like. My mum was a seamstress and I’m pretty good with a needle.”

“I’d love that,” Nesta replied. It was that easy to make Emerie happy, to set down roots in the form of friendship, and annoy her father, all at once. Which was all Nesta wanted, truly. She returned later that evening for a pint in the privacy of Emerie’s shop where Emerie gave Nesta a history of the gossip she normally provided, and convinced Nesta to stuff herself with cheese while taking her measurements. Nesta was used to the opposite—being told to fast for a solid day in order to seem thinner for the gown.

She much preferred Emerie’s way. 

The downside was, by the time they finished it was incredibly dark, not that the tourists had gotten the memo. Nesta didn’t want to tell Emerie she was afraid of the dark, nor did she want to walk up that hill. That left her with the Ensnaring Snake’s hidden passage, and the packed crowd inside. She kept her head down, trying—and failing—to not see Cassian. It was impossible not to notice him lounging in a chair like some conquering hero. 

Nesta made it all the way to the bar before she was stopped.

“Where’re ye going, lass?”

“I—”

“She’s with me, Angus,” Cassian’s smooth, if not unwelcome, voice replied. He slung his arm over her shoulder, pulling her intimately close which earned a wolfish grin from the bartender.

“Aye, behave then,” was all Angus thought to say.

“What are you doing?” Nesta demanded, shoving his arm off her shoulder the moment they were in the back,

“Walking ye home,” he smiled, pulling open the door that cut through the hillside. “And putting ye in bed.”

“Alone,” Nesta replied, though some part of her very much wanted to see him in her bed. 

Is that a question? Because I’ll hold ye tell ye fall asleep, tae. Ye only have tae ask.”

“I’m never going to ask, Cassian,” she said, plunging into the darkness with a boldness she felt only because he was with her.

“Yes, I’m starting tae think so, tae.”

“So maybe you should move on,” Nesta said, inhaling the scent of musty air in an effort to escape the richness rolling off him.

“Impossible,” he replied, grabbing her hand as they began to walk over loose stone and dirt. “I don’t know how anyone gets over ye.” 

Nesta felt as though she couldn’t breathe. The walls were closing in on her, pressing her closer and closer to Cassian until she was gripping his hand so tightly she might have been hurting him. In the dark, unable to see him, Nesta could say all the things she didn’t dare when his eyes were on her. 

“No one feels that way about me. They never have. This will pass.”

“It won’t,” he replied, his voice cracking ever so slightly. “Stop speaking for me. Ye don’t know how I—ye don’t see yerself right. Ye see what those bastards see, because they’re scared of ye.

I’m not, Nes. And ye cannae make me change my mind, either.”

“So what, then? You’re just going to be at my doorstep until we both die?”

“Ideally you’ll be letting me inside, but yes, that’s exactly how I imagine us.”

Nesta stumbled over the first step. “Imagine us?”

“Ye don’t?”

“I–”

“Don’t lie to me, Nes.”

“I can make it the rest of the—Cass—” 

Cassian pulled her against him, stopping mid-step to kiss her in the dark. Nesta raised her hand to slap him. She swore she did. His audacity knew no bounds, he was utterly ridiculous. Which was why, when her fingers found his skin, she plunged them into his soft hair and yanked him closer.

Cassian groaned, hauling her up easily, like she was little more than a sack of feathers. Eyes closed, Nesta used her hands to map him, forgetting where they were–though she had the sense he was somehow still walking. Not that it stopped him—Cassian was a man possessed, his tongue in her mouth, tasting her with near mindless enthusiasm. 

“Like when ye call me Cass,” he groaned against her neck. How, she wondered, had they made it to the top of the stairs? Cassian was pushing open the iron door of the dungeon, still holding her in one arm though she knew he couldn’t continue on as he was. He’d have to set her down.

And he did, if only to grab her by the back of the neck and kiss her again. His teeth grazed against her bottom lip, hands cupping her face.

“Show me yer room,” he growled, eliciting a shiver from Nesta. They were still in the brutal dark, close enough she could feel his heart pounding in his chest. 

“Cass—”

He reached for the top of her dress and without preamble, ripped clean down the middle. Buttons flew in every direction, scattering loudly over the stone. Heat flooded between Nesta’s legs, her breath catching roughly in her throat. Neither of them moved, breathing softly as they waited for the other to make a move. 

He’d done it, though. Hadn’t he? Her dress was ruined and his hands were hovering between them, waiting for her to say something.

“You’re a fucking animal, Cassian,” she told him, unable to hide how breathless she was.

“And yer pussy is dripping, isn’t it?” he all but purred in response.

“Fuck you,” she whispered.

“Take me upstairs.”

Nesta grabbed him by his kilted waist, hauling him forward like she held a leash. Their teeth crashed together, inelegant and messy and yet she’d never been more turned on in her life.

“I’ll show ye a fucking animal, mo chirdhe,” he breathed, licking the column of her neck as he said it. Nesta shivered, and just because she wanted to prove she had some control, rubbed the heel of her hand against his straining erection. 

Cassian exhaled, biting the lobe of her ear. “Upstairs. Now.”

She thought it would be awkward to fumble their way through the dark, and worse still when the lights hit them. Cassian groaned softly when he saw her, breasts spilling over the ripped fabric of her dress. They collided again, this time his hands reaching for her, covering each breast easily. Callused fingers brushed her nipples, drawing what might have been an embarrassing moan had Cassian not ground himself against her.

“What’s under this?” she asked him, thinking maybe they ought to just fuck in the hall. Right up against the wall like they were no better than animals. Just like he’d promised. 

“Find out, Nes, please touch me.”

Cassian couldn’t have been shorter than six foot five and was built like a celtic warrior. Nesta, at five nine, had always felt dainty beside him—and in that moment, Nesta swore their positions reversed. He was looking up at her somehow, pleading for her to give him something.

Nesta slid her hand beneath the fabric of his plaid to find he was wearing nothing at all. 

She also found she’d been right about him. Everything about Cassian was large. Her fingers just barely curled around him, and that first pass told her he was not just thick, but long, too.

Cassian growled a string of words in Gaelic, spoken too quickly for her to make sense of. She didn’t care when he kissed her again, rolling his hips into her hand as she stroked. Nesta was careful to go slow, wanting to drag him out for as long as possible.

“Bed, Nes.” Cassian’s spoken order made her shiver. 

“I like touching you,” she whispered, kissing just beneath his ear. Cassian moaned in a huff, like it escaped him against his will. 

“Ye will just as soon as I have ye in bed,” he replied, hauling her up off her feet like he was so prone to do. Not over his shoulder, like usual, but in his arms like she was precious. Nesta ran her hand up his chest before directing him to the room they’d share tonight. 

And maybe again, after that, if she worked up the nerve. She could find a way to keep him with her, ensuring they wouldn’t be separated, which meant they could continue to have sex until she died.

Cassian kicked open her door and Nesta felt like she was the heroine in one of her novels. This was happening. It was nearly the way she imagined when she was alone, made better by the look on Cassian’s face. Tossing her to the bed, Cassian whipped off that black t-shirt before Nesta had managed to even catch her breath.

“That day at tae loch,” he breathed, removing his shoes and socks quickly, all the while watching her, “I nearly had ye in the dirt. Was so close tae begging ye I had tae walk away. Yer eyes, mo chirdhe…”

“What about them?” she asked, her heart pounding in her throat. Cassian sank to his knees at the edge of the bed, reaching for her legs, hidden in her dress. Given the top half had been ripped open, it hardly mattered when he began pulling it down. It left her only in a plain pair of underwear and nothing else. 

Cassian’s gaze flicked to her face. Running his palms up her thighs, he murmured, “I see yer eyes when I close mine. I used tae think ye were haunting me.”

“And now?” Her breath hitched when he kissed just below her knee.

“I know ye are now,” he replied, dragging his tongue up to the fabric still hugging her body. “There’ll be no getting rid of ye.”

She opened her mouth, unsure of what she was going to say. Cassian cut her off. “I don’t want tae be rid of ye, lass. I keep telling ye, but yer not listening. I think I need tae show ye.”

“Cass—” He kissed through her underwear, pouring warm air from his mouth against her aching pussy. 

“Tell me tae stop.”

“Don’t.”

Cassian groaned, resting his forehead on her leg for only a moment before pulling the last scraps of fabric off her body.

He whispered something in audible, something that sounded distinctly like a prayer. Nesta was squirming, felt so exposed beneath his gaze, his fingers. If he didn’t do something, she was going to explode. 

“Cass,” she said, trying it out for the first time. 

He shook his head, his expression so utterly and thoroughly wrecked. “Don’t beg. Not yet.”

“Not yet, what does that—” she choked on the rest of her words the moment his tongue slid up the center of her. His rumbling groan vibrated through her, settling in her chest. Nesta drew her legs up, planting her heels against the edge of the bed to spread herself wider and Cassian seized on the opportunity to explore. His tongue was everywhere, teasing and taunting as he dipped into her body before dragging back up to her clit. There was a distinct lack of elegance to the act, something selfish about the way he was going at her—as if this were as much for him as it was for her. 

Why had she denied them this for so long? Cassian’s mouth was bliss, pulling moan after moan from her until Nesta was grinding her pussy against his face, desperately chasing the gathering release that threatened to unmake her. Cassian gripped her ass, spreading her apart, kneading her skin as he drove her higher. Nesta didn’t want to be done, wanted to draw this out for as long as she could.

And she wanted to know what it would be like to have him inside her. Nesta reached between her legs, carding her fingers through his hair. Cassian moaned when she pulled while Nesta nearly screamed as one of his fingers invaded her body. She clenched tight around him, trying to breath through her nose, to calm herself down. 

“Cassian,” she pleaded, though for what, Nesta didn’t know. It wasn’t as if he was going to stop. He began to work that finger, and then a second, into her, pumping in and out as he licked and sucked at her clit. Gripping the sheets so tightly she pulled one from the corner, Nesta could do nothing but take this onslaught of pleasure. 

Nesta was grateful there was no one but them atop this hill. When she came, it was with a strangled scream that betrayed her. No one but Cassian bore witness to it, which was exactly how it ought to be. Nesta was on fire, was made of nothing but pure heat in that moment, drowning in pleasure so exquisite she could have died right there. 

Cassian kept going, discovering a secret only Nesta knew about herself. Given he was the first man who’d ever made her come, or who’d ever been interested in making her come, she supposed it made sense he’d figure it out. Cassian was still licking, his fingers curled in her body as he fucked her. Nesta had only barely come down when she was dragged right back up, shattering tight around him.

Cassian’s head snapped forward, lips glistening in the warm lamplight. “Did ye—”

“Come here, come here,” she said, wiggling further up the bed as she beckoned him. Cassian crawled after her, eyes wide and dark. 

“Have ye done this before?” he whispered, laying himself over her, still in his kilt. 

“No,” she finally admitted. 

“And…” he bit his bottom lip. “And has anyone taken it from ye—”

“No,” she breathed, cupping his face in her hands. “No. Just you, Cass”

His eyes fluttered shut. 

“Only me,” he agreed, rising up on his knees to undo his kilt. She’d never realized it was merely one long, pleated piece of fabric until he unwound it from his hips. He was naked then, his cock resting over her still convulsing pussy. Feeling and seeing were two wholly different things. Nesta raised up on her elbows to look, to drink in how obscene they were, how thick and long he was. 

“I want this,” she told him, pushing aside her nerves. “I want you.”

“I’ll go slow,” he swallowed, taking himself in his hand. 

“I know you won’t hurt me,” Nesta replied, holding his gaze. He nodded, notching himself against her, only to rub the blunt head of his thick cock through the silken, wet mess still dripping from her pussy.

“Are ye always this wet for me?”

“Yes,” she whispered, because there was no use lying to him. 

“Wasted time, mo chirdhe,” he grunted, pushing himself into her. Nesta gasped, digging her nails into his biceps. It didn’t hurt—but the stretch was uncomfortable. Cassian halted, eyes searching her face.

“Don’t stop,” Nesta managed, certain the discomfort was short lived. Even women liked sex, which meant she merely needed to get through this hurdle and then she’d be free to enjoy him the way she’d been imagining. “Please, don’t stop.”

It was the please that got to him, just like she knew it would. Cassian’s emotions were all over his face. He’d never been able to hide them, but now he might as well have been screaming what he felt to her. He wanted to make her happy—wanted to do whatever she said.

So he kept going, pushing himself into her while Nesta closed her eyes and forced herself to relax. To let go, just this once.

He wouldn’t hurt her. He’d stop if she told him to. He’d get dressed, he’d walk out the door right that second if Nesta changed her mind. It was that realization that allowed Nesta to let go, to invite him into her body until she’d adjusted to the feel of him. 

Cassian seated himself with a soft grunt and a jumble of swears in both English and Gaelic. 

“Is it how you imagined?” Nesta asked, betraying her own insecurities.

“Better,” he kissed, withdrawing only an inch. Nesta gasped when he pushed back in, delighted to know she’d been right. That stretch faded into pleasure, frazzling up her spine like a shock of electricity. 

“Do it again.”

“Don’t think I could stop,” he admitted, pumping his hips. He kept his eyes on her face, memorizing her reactions. As if this was the last time she’d invite him into her bed. Nesta didn’t know how she’d manage it, but she knew she wanted him here, just like his, for the foreseeable future. 

Forever. 

She clung tight to his tattooed shoulders, face buried in his neck. It was all going to be over soon, so Nesta indulged in the feel of his muscles shifting beneath his skin, drinking in each ragged groan, each whisper of her name. Cassian was becoming erratic, his careful movements rougher, almost punishing as he pounded himself into her. 

Nesta turned his face, her own building orgasm threatening to make a fool out of her. She wanted to say too much, to reveal all the messy, ugly parts of herself to him and see if he kept looking at her like that. She kissed him instead, chasing away her fears with the taste of him.

She came, not with a scream, but whispering his name into his mouth. It was pleasure unlike anything else.

Cassian was unlike anything else. He would be her ruination, and as Nesta drifted in the warm abyss, cradled in his arms, she thought there were far more terrible things than falling in love with this man. 

“Nesta,” he whined, thrusting deeper into her. “Tha gaol agam ort, Nesta—”

He came, clutching her so tight there was no escaping. 

Nesta was exactly where she wanted to be. 

-*-

The thing about Cassian, Nesta learned, was his work ethic. She’d woken after that first night pleasantly sore, hoping to go again only to find the sounds of battle echoing up from the lawn. Her bed was empty, though Cassian’s presence lingered. He’d left his socks on her floor and a note on the side table. 

Lunch?

Dinner?

My whole life? 

-Cass

He’d given her his phone number, too. Nesta shot him a quick text, thinking ahead.

How about we start with dinner? 

After all, if he came over later in the evening, he was less likely to spend the night in the tavern with his friends, with the other women always fawning over him. He’d spend the night with her, and she’d get him all to herself. 

He didn’t respond until he was long gone from her lawn. One word was all it took to make Nesta’s heart pound.

Done.

And he came, with a bottle of cheap wine they drank on a balcony. It was here that Cassian told Nesta about his life, clearly hoping she’d reciprocate. He told her about his mother who’d died at the hands of his violent father, who’d left him in the care of relatives that didn’t particularly care much for him. It was how he’d met Rhys, a snotty boy at a stuck-up boarding school trying to live Cassian’s life for a few hours.

Cassian laughed when he told Nesta how he’d beaten the piss out of Rhys, stolen his wallet, and taken off with all the money inside. And how surprised he’d been when Rhys came back with a bruised eye and bloodied nose for his wallet the next night—and Cassian had liked him enough to give him the alcohol he'd been trying to smuggle back in. How they’d become friends, and Cassian felt like he had actual family for the first time in his life. A brother.

She wanted to tell him about her life, too. And what was there to say? That she felt overlooked and neglected as a girl? Buried under the pressure by responsibilities and expectations she’d never once actually taken on. That had been Elain, ultimately, who scooped up all their fathers wants and heaped them upon her shoulders with a smile. 

She felt ashamed to tell him her problems, even when Cassian turned those bright, hopeful eyes onto her. Lips curved in a smile, hand balancing on her knee. 

“Ye don’t have tae tell me anything,” he finally murmured, and she knew she was a coward for wanting to pretend he didn’t mean anything to her. Especially when she pulled him back into her bedroom and spent the night silently apologizing with her lips, and tongue, and teeth. 

It was like that every night. Cassian did most of the talking and Nesta listened, her head in his lap while he’d run his fingers through her hair. She learned that the laughing, likable man was a facade, a wall he put up so no one really saw him, much like her own. Cassian needed everyone to love him to prove he was worthy.

And in turn, she couldn’t allow anyone to love her in order to prove she was exactly as awful as she’d always suspected she was. Only, Cassian didn’t seem to think so. He kept coming back night after night, kept telling her all his secrets knowing full well Nesta could use all of it to break his heart. 

Nesta woke two weeks after her and Cassian had begun to the shrill ring of her cellphone. She’d been charging it again, if only to know when Cassian was making his way up to her—and to tell him good morning, not that she’d ever admit it. 

“What?” Nesta grumbled. It was early enough that Cassian was still there, one arm flung over her back, face pressed into a pillow. 

“You haven’t RSVP’d,” came Elain’s too cheerful voice.

“Elain, it’s six in the morning. Go back to bed.”

“Are you going? And who are you bringing?”

Cassian opened his eyes, mouthing, going where? She could invite him—and watch her father eviscerate him for being a bastard born no one. 

“I said I would. I’m going alone, and I’m not staying so don’t bother making up my room.”

There was a beat. “You’re not going to invite Cassian?”

Cassian had heard. “Don’t,” Nesta retorted. “I said I’d be there. Let it go.”

She hung up before Elain could press her. 

“Go where?” Cassian asked instantly. This was a test and she knew she was going to fail it. Knew the minute he dragged her back against him and pressed a kiss to her neck that she was going to fuck this all up.

“Back home. It’s nothing, Cass, really—”

“But I’m invited?”

“No.”

The easy smile on his face faltered. “Ah. Ye’d rather go alone?”

“I’d rather not go at all,” Nesta clarified, untangling herself from his grip to rise from bed. “I never want to go back and I certainly don’t want to subject you to my family—”

“I’ve met yer family.”

“No, you met Feyre and Elain. They don’t count.”

Cassian sat up, muscles gleaming gold in the early morning light. “So what, then, Nes? I’m just…I’m just the bloke yer fucking out in the country that yer London friends can’t know about?”

“What London friends, Cassian?” she snapped, pulling a robe around her body. “I have no friends back home. If I don’t go, no one would miss me—except Elain, which is why she won’t let this go.”

He watched, eyes tracking her around the room. “Are ye ashamed—”

“No,” she hissed before softening her tone. “No. I’m not ashamed, Cassian. I…”

Nesta curled her hands to fists, trying to find the exact right words that would placate him. 

“I can handle myself around that lot,” Cassian told her, and of course he could. He was best friends with a duke's son, after all. The problem was her. Nesta took a breath before walking back to the bed. She sat on the edge, looking over at him.

“I know you can. It’s me, Cass. It’s just…”

“Yer father?” he guessed. 

Nestas fingers twisted around each other violently, nostrils flaring as she tried to get her temper under control. “When mother got sick, he withdrew. He couldn’t stand to see her suffer. And all she wanted was him. She’d beg me to go get him, and I would and he’d tell me to tell her he was coming right up…but he never did. Sometimes I’d hear him walk to the door but he’d never come in. It was grief, but…”

Cassian ran his hands over the tops of her arms. 

“But ye were a wee girl, Nes.”

Nesta nodded her head, swallowing so he wouldn’t see her cry. Cassian crept forward, pulling her between his thighs so she could rest her back against the solid wall that comprised his muscled chest. She sighed.

“I can’t stand the thought of you going and standing before him, a better man than he could ever dream of being, and still being forced to endure his scrutiny. It’s one evening, Cassian. I’ll be back in the morning and I won’t have to go back for months.”

He pressed a kiss to the back of her neck. “Aye. If that’s what ye want.” It wasn’t. Nesta so badly wanted Cassian to come with her. She wanted to go everywhere with him. Nesta forced herself to twist, to smile and say, “You’d hate it, Cass. There is so much dancing–”

“Do ye dance?” he asked, eyes alight.

Nesta nodded. “Until my mom died. I had lessons, I—” She almost told him that she loved it. 

Cassian smiled, kissing her cheek. 

“It’s nice tae learn something about ye, Nes.”

“You’re not angry?”

He kissed her again, dragging her back to the mattress. “Mad at ye? Mo chirdhe, that’s not possible.”

-*- 

But maybe it was. Cassian had begun skipping their evenings together in favor of seeing his friends. He still came, but not as often, or far later than before. He said he was finishing up the end of the season, that it was always hectic in the last few weeks of August, but Nesta was afraid that Cassian was pulling away. 

Nesta had to leave without telling him goodbye in person like she’d hoped. Instead, Nesta texted him, feeling stupid for letting her guard down. For believing that he liked her just as much as she liked him. 

She couldn’t stop herself from texting him.

See you tomorrow?

Cassian was quick with a response.

Yes. Miss you. 

It was, she supposed, enough for now. Nesta made her way back to London, miserable and moody and wondering why she couldn’t just tell Cassian the truth.

I’m in love with you. 

It was too late to invite him, but not too late to tell him she missed him, too. Nesta waited until she was in the dress Emerie had made for her—beautiful, shimmering black with a plunging neckline that was going to absolutely make someone’s aging grandfather angry—to text him back.

I miss you. 

She had to slip her phone into her clutch. Nesta wasted an inordinate amount of time putting on makeup and pinning half her hair off her face before she finally called a cab and made her way across the city for the theater her father had rented out to host the absurd event. With a lacy black and red mask careful stuck to her eyes, Nesta made her way into the open atrium. Feyre was there and had clearly the same thought Nesta had, if the gauzy black and silver dress all but painted to her skin was any indication. A pretty silver mask clung to her skin, making her eyes seem like concentrated starlight. 

Beside her, Rhys’s unnerving blue eyes cut around the room with amusement, his hand firmly on Feyre’s bare shoulder as though she were his shield from the nearby people looking in his direction. Desperate, Nesta thought, to talk to him. He wore a kilt with a suit jacket, which felt perfectly normal given the limited information she had about him. 

“Oh, thank God you came,” Feyre breathed, making her way to Nesta while Rhys trailed just behind like a dark shadow. 

“Where is Elain?”

“Phone off—missing,” Feyre said, eyes narrowed. “After begging and pleading for me to be here, I think she skipped out.”

Nesta only laughed. “Not Elain. She’s probably caught in traffic.”

“With a dead cell phone?” Feyre demanded archly. 

“She’ll be here,” Nesta said, only because it felt impossible that Elain would go to so much trouble to ensure both Feyre and Nesta came knowing she had no intention of coming herself. “I’ll bet she’s already inside and you just missed her.”

“She’s not,” Feyre protested as Rhys swept an errant curl from her ear. 

“I’ll prove it,” Nesta said, gliding over the glossy marble floor toward the man who’d checked her. A line of guests waited to enter, all fascinated by the dark haired Rhys still casually touching his wife. 

“Has Elain Archeron checked in?” Nesta asked, ignoring everyone as though they were little more than dirt beneath her shoe. An exhausted man dressed in tails and a top hat, flipped through his sheets before nodding.

“See–”

“She’s not in there,” Feyre repeated, clearly annoyed. Behind her, Rhys nodded silently which only served to annoy Nesta. She hadn’t asked for his smug agreement. Elain was here. 

“Fine. Let’s go look, because it says she’s here.”

Feyre fell into step with Nesta, clearly wanting to be there when Nesta was proven wrong. Ordinarily that would annoy Nesta—the only person more stubborn, more obstinate, more competitive than her was her baby sister. They elbowed their way through the golden archway, half jogging down the sweeping steps to the open ballroom teeming with people. A massive chandelier glittered overhead while rows of white lace tables were arranged around dancing couples, served by a staff of waiters in the same tails the man at the door wore. 

“All this for your stupid husband?” Nesta hissed, earning a smack against her stomach from Feyre. 

“And Elain. Father things she and Graysen will reconcile and he’ll have two daughters distantly in line for the throne,” Feyre replied without any true ire. 

“Ugh,” Nesta scoffed. 

“Of course,” Feyre mused, eyes sweeping the room with a creeping smile. “Elain is living with a Vanserra—”

“Don’t be disgusting,” Nesta interrupted, thinking of that dickish old man harassing their middle sister. 

Rhys laughed, stepping from behind his wife with a delighted smile. “Ye bastard.”

Feyre was grinning, and when Nesta turned, she understood why.

Cassian.

In his kilt and a black jacket. The waves of his hair had been carefully brushed while his beard was neatly styled and trimmed against his truly beautiful face. He was looking at her sheepishly, apology etched against his expression. 

Cassian and Rhys embraced loudly, two Scots among the polite, quiet English. Their raucous laughter made several people near them jump, which earned a very exaggerated eye roll from Feyre.

Nesta crept forward, trying to make sense of Cassian—he’d had to have left hours before her. “How—”

“Yer sister,” he said, rubbing the back of his neck. “She ah…she called me a couple weeks ago, asked if I wanted to go. Said ye were too proud tae ever ask and that she wasn’t coming—”

“I told you!” Feyre crowed. 

“Why isn’t she coming?” Nesta asked. 

Cassian only shrugged his shoulders. “I didnae ask. I ah…I wanted tae surprise ye.”

“It worked,” Nesta said, realizing Cassian was without a mask. Rhys had foregone one, too, so Nesta supposed it would be a Scottish tradition, then. As if anyone didn’t know exactly who they were. 

Cassian rubbed the back of his neck, his shoulders set in that familiar, defensive stance. He’d come, knowing it was likely to make her angry all because beneath all that, she’d wanted him to. Nesta swallowed, nearly as tall as he was in her heels, and pressed a kiss to his cheek.

“I’m glad you're here.”

And she was when people finally became curious enough about Rhys to ignore how rude they were, interrupting the four of them sitting at a table drinking and otherwise trying to while away the time so they could respectively escape. Elain never did come, and Feyre was too busy smiling beside her husband to be a fun conversationalist once things picked up in earnest.

Nesta would have been alone—again. Miserable and frustrated until she inevitably snuck off, all the while wishing she was with Cassian. 

“Dance with me, mo chirdhe,” he murmured, pulling her from her chair.

“Since when do you know how to dance?” Nesta demanded, though she followed him all the same.

“Ye don’t ask me any questions,” he said with a smile, pulling her into the proper stance for the waltz currently playing. Of course her father would have hired a live quartet, trying to seem posher than he was.

“What questions should I be asking, then?”

He lowered his face until his lips brushed over the shell of her ear. “What I’m doing at night when I’m not with ye.”

Nesta jerked, looking up at him. “You were with friends, right?”

“I was doing this,” he explained, stepping so precisely it was clear he’d only just learned the steps and wasn’t yet comfortable enough to be fluid. “I know ye said ye weren’t embarrassed but I figured ye’d be steaming, and I didn’t want tae give ye any more reasons tae be angry.”

“Oh, Cassian,” she murmured, squeezing his hand. “I’m not angry. I was wishing you were here right until I saw you.”

“I know,” he agreed, glancing at his feet for only a moment. He was doing so well that he almost seemed effortless. But even if he’d been tripping over his feet, he still would have been the best partner she’d ever had. “I can see yer feelings on that bonnie face of yers.”

“Oh? Is that so?”

“It is,” he replied smugly, handsome as ever.

“Then you must be aware that I’m in love with you? And there's no need to say it?”

Cassian stumbled. “I—ah—what?”

Nesta’s cheeks burned. She’d never said those words before and the flustered look on his face did little to calm her nerves. 

“Tha gaol agam ort,” he said, something he’d been saying since they’d first had sex. She remembered it so clearly, had been too afraid to look it up. Foolish.

“Oh,” she murmured, unable to stop the smile creeping up her face.

“Maybe since I first saw ye,” he added, his steps falling out of time with the music. Nesta didn’t care, so long as he kept his eyes wholly on her. So long as he kept his arms around her. “I was stupid, though. Couldn’t figure out why I couldn’t keep away from ye.”

“You sure know how to make a lady feel special,” she teased, still holding his gaze. 

“Let me make it up tae ye when we leave,” he replied, eyes glinting with mischief. “We’ll play sexy Scottish prisoner, cruel English—”

“Oh, stop it,” Nesta interrupted with a laugh. “We’re always roleplaying that.”

“That’s right, mo chirdhe,” he said, taking their joined hands and pressing it against her heart. “Because I’m not going anywhere.”

The music ended, though neither of them moved. Barely breathed. “Good,” she replied, swallowing hard. What else could she say to that? 

Cassian grinned. “Now. Where’s yer father?”

And Nesta, smiling so wide it threatened to split her face, merely pointed in his direction. She’d take Cassian to him.

They’d go together.