#I spend all day anticipating her coming home from work so we can spend time together

[catbolt]

Merry Christmas, Dr. Zayne

inspired by (and written listening to) Merry Christmas, Mr. Lawrence - Ryuichi Sakamoto from my zayne playlist hehe

fluff, zayne x mc, 1.3k wc

Snow crystallizes on tree branches outside in the light of the falling winter sun, each ray refracting through the icicles that frame the window and splitting into thin beams that run like streams onto the wooden floor inside. She sighs, staring out the window, mug of cocoa clenched between cold hands.

She anticipates him coming home late again. "You know, emergency room visits spike during the holiday season," Zayne had told her with a smile in the morning as he prepared to leave.

"You're not even an ER doctor," she grumbled, arms crossed. He'd laughed softly. "When people need help, I help, my dear. It's non-negotiable."

Times like this she begrudges his unrelentingly chivalrous spirit and sense of justice, although it's usually one of the qualities she likes the most about him. She waits on the couch, feeling more than a little restless. She had hoped to spend at least some part of Christmas Day with him, but as the hours ticked by on the clock, the chances of that grew slimmer and slimmer.

She doesn't text Zayne, not wanting to bother him, knowing he's likely stressed at work. She gets up from the couch with a sigh, deciding to at least busy herself with some cleaning. Her presents for him sit below the tree, untouched.

The sun sinks lower, quickly, and she grimaces, its descent through the clouds a constant reminder of the fact that the hours in this special day is running out, and so far she's spent it nearly all alone. She tidies up the dinner table, mindlessly searching through the cabinets for what to make for dinner. If Zayne won't be joining her to chastise her for her poor diet, a box (or two) of mac n cheese should do the trick to soothe her feelings.

She sighs, bending down in the pantry to grab the boxes in question, when suddenly she hears a click of the door unlocking. She shoots up in surprise, promptly banging her head into the top of the pantry cabinet. "Fuck!" she cries out, eyes screwed up in pain as she massages the back of her head.

"Hm. That wasn't the reaction I was expecting to me coming home like this."

Zayne's soft, chuckling voice filters in from the foyer, getting louder with each word. When she opens her eyes, still rubbing at the back of her head, she sees him standing in the kitchen entryway, a lush bouquet of white roses and jasmine tucked under his arm. She splutters a little, watching as he presents it to her, a small smile on his face.

"What's this about?" she says softly, taking the bouquet from him, a gentle pink flush rising on her cheeks.

"What, I can't give my girlfriend flowers?" He steps closer, closing the space between them. He's still in his white coat and scrubs underneath, and she can see the slight tiredness in his eyes. "Besides, they're an apology."

"For what?" she mutters, setting the bouquet down on the dining room table.

"For not being able to spend more of Christmas with you," he murmurs, capturing one of her hands in his, pressing a soft kiss to her knuckles. "I know you weren't happy that I had to work. I'm sorry. It wasn't ideal."

She feels a mild pang of guilt. He hadn't seemed bothered by her pouting and whining about it all of Christmas Eve, brushing it off at every turn with his signature even-keeled demeanor. But she'd misjudged him, it seems, as she searches his gaze, seeing his brow furrow slightly. "I really am sorry," he says quietly. "We couldn't open presents in the morning because I had to go to work."

"Oh..." she shakes her head. "Don't... worry about that."

"I do worry," he says softly, lowering her hand from his lips, but keeping his hold on it, thumb skating soothingly over the back of her hand. "I know it's important to you."

"It's not a big deal," she says hastily. "You didn't have to come today if--" "I wanted to come back," he says, voice carrying a bit of a harder edge now, an authoritative quality signaling it's not up for debate. "I wanted to see you. And to give you my gift."

She sighs a little, still feeling guilty. "The flowers are beautiful, Z. But you didn't have to rush back--"

His brow furrows. "That's not the gift," he says gently.

He guides her over to the couch, gesturing for her to sit down. "Just a moment," he says softly, walking off to retrieve his bag, which he begins to rummage through.

The sun has set quickly, the room now enveloped in darkness, the only light source now being the Christmas tree. The soft white lights send pinpricks of light dancing across the room. She hears a match flick, and turns around to see Zayne lighting a candle behind her, setting it down on the coffee table. A small smirk plays at her lips. "Getting romantic, are we?" He lights another candle, placing it nearby. "No," he says matter-of-factly. "Just a moment. You'll see."

She almost rolls his eyes at his inability to go with the joke, the grin lingering on her lips. He sits down on the couch opposite her, and then produces an unassuming box, flat and rectangular, tied with a dark gray ribbon. It fits in both of his hands, and he hands it over to her. "Your gift."

She looks down, fingers working through the ribbon and gently untying it. She hesitates for a moment, and then opens the box.

Inside lies a stunning, thin silver necklace, adorned with what looks like hundreds of soft blue gemstones that twinkle alluringly as soon as the candlelight hits them. Each gemstone is tear shaped, like a shimmering droplet of rain.

"Zayne..." her breath catches in her throat.

"Do you like it?" he says softly, with a hint of hesitation in her voice anyone but her would miss. She nods, and he lets out a soft hum of relief, gently lifting the necklace from the box and moving closer to fasten it around her neck.

"I lit the candles because I wanted to see how it looked in their light," he mutters softly, his breath ghosting over her ear as he attaches the necklace around her. He pulls away, his eyes watching how the glittering stones seem to dance and shift in the light.

"Beautiful," he says, voice a little hoarser than usual. She swallows softly, the space between them nearly pulsing, reverberating with unsaid words. She knows Zayne isn't much of a talker, but she's learned to be attuned to his face and body enough that she can read his emotions like a book, a consequence of the past year they've spent dating. She sees him fidget slightly, the pulse thrum slightly faster in his neck, the way his eyes flick between the jewelry and her eyes, as if watching to see how the candlelight dances there too.

"Thank you," she says, her voice thick with emotion as she takes one of his hands in her own. It's cold, as his hands always are, and she scoots a little closer to him on the couch. "It is beautiful."

He clears his throat. "I was talking about you," he says.

It's like the world falls blissfully quiet-- even the weight of all the things that they can't find the words to say say feels lighter suddenly. The feeling of his hand in hers, slowly warming between her palms, grounds her in this moment.

The tree glows softly, the lights flickering like thousands of little fireflies, casting a golden glow across the room. Under the mask of the dim light, it's like the exhaustion is erased somehow from Zayne's features, and all she can see is the warmth in his deep, forest green stare, desperately trying to push forth. She squeezes his hand. "Merry Christmas," she says softly.

"Merry Christmas," he replies, in a whisper, squeezing back.

[tyrianlynch]

I’ve been improving a lot mentally lately and today my wife (best friend who I’ve lived with for 7 years) told me she’s divorcing me (moving to a city we both swore we’d never live in) and she’s taking the kids (our dog) and this is just further proof that god will never allow me to be happy or hopeful

[ozzgin]

Omg i love your Yandere serial killer with a split persona so much 😭😭, can you do more headcanon about him?? Like does he aware of his other persona seeing reader kinda scared to talk to him normally thank u

Yandere! Serial Killer Scenarios

Featuring the kind, quiet man who has no idea why you look at him with terror in your eyes. This time with an official character design!

Content: female reader, mentions of murder, obsessive behavior, horror, dubious/non-consent

[Main Story] | [More original works]

You only attempted to escape once.

His frequent warnings had begun to wear off, and your mind dared to wander towards hope. One day, during his evening walk, you ran to your bedroom and pulled out a train ticket you'd hidden earlier inside a drawer. The small piece of paper weighed heavy in your hand. Come, now, you scolded yourself. It was weeks of careful planning: anticipating his schedule, erasing your tracks, preparing the essentials. You could already smell the worn leather seats, and hear the jarring whistle of departure. Then you'd be far away from this maniac, all but a terrible memory to be locked away.

There was no time for hesitation. You grabbed a small bag and sped towards the station, frequently looking over your shoulder, muttering silent prayers. Once you made it to your compartment, you exhaled in relief. A relief you hadn't felt in months, washing over your body and relaxing your tense muscles. You climbed the stairs, and searched for your seat. Has someone misread their ticket? You found your spot occupied by a stranger.

"What did I tell you about running away?" his deep voice echoed across the empty hall.

The walk back home was silent. You were convinced this was your end. You'd arrive at the house, and he'd cut you into pieces. Your lips curled in a horrified grimace, mind flooded with foreign feelings: your nails plucked apart with pliers, a burning sting after each detachment. The roots of your teeth grinding and screeching within the bone of your jaw, until all that's left is a fleshy, gaping wound. Plop, plop, as each little souvenir falls into the jar.

He slammed the door shut and stared you down. You looked at the floor, but all you could see were the grimy ID cards of all the women who never made it out of this damned house. You were next.

His large hand ruffled your hair, and you glanced up in disbelief.

"This stays between us. Mother better not hear that her soon-to-be daughter in law tried to run away. Especially now that she's warmed up to you. Are we clear?"

You nodded desperately. God, how pathetic of you. But being trapped was better than rotting underground like the rest of them. You just wanted to live.

You can always tell whether it's him, or him. It's the silence. Or lack of, for that matter. He likes the quietness, the muffled ticking of the clock, the busy rattling in the kitchen, your laughs, your chatter. You'll sit together and listen to the rain, or read your books across from each other. There's no need for words, you know you can be at peace.

He likes music. When you hear the record player, you know it's your cue to perform. You exit your room - it's better if he doesn't call you down himself - and descend to the main area. The stairs creak louder, the wallpaper begins to yellow. It's almost as if the house ages with the music, and you tumble back in time.

He's been waiting for you, naturally. How's a man meant to spend his evenings, if not with his adored wife? He'll reach out for your hand, and invite you to a slow dance. Those are the worst moments. The tight, suffocating hold, his deranged stare drilling into your very soul, the whispered promises: that you're forever his, and you'll never find happiness anywhere else. He knows it. It's the same for him, really. Everything he's ever needed lies within your embrace.

Some days, the charade doesn't last long. You simply won't be in the mood to be kissed, to be stripped naked and fondled by his murderous hands. So you'll just pout and gaze ahead. It angers him terribly.

"Wretched whore. Do I look like a beggar?"

He'll shove you aside and make his way out, taking his tools with him. He hates asking for your affection and would rather take his anger out somewhere else. You know he won't hurt you, or force himself on you, which means someone else will have to pay for your disrespect. And yet, it's the only freedom you have around him - the privilege of refusing him and living to see the next day. The rest aren't as lucky. You'd rather not think too deeply about it.

My honey, I know With the dawn that you will be gone But tonight, you belong to me Just to little old me.

What a bizarre thing, to harbor such hatred towards the one you love. You've never met anyone kinder. He's thoughtful, patient, caring. He knows everything about you and lives to serve you. He's your best friend and your lover. He's the one you want to marry one day. But he's also...well...him. And you can't have one without the other.

"No, Mother, it isn't tacky," he barks at the shattered mirror, adjusting your necklace. "And you know what? It's up to (Y/N) to decide if she wants to wear your wedding jewelry."

"It's nice", you respond curtly. You look into the empty reflection and nod. He likes it when you take his side in front of Mother.

"I knew you'd agree. We're a match made in Heaven, aren't we?" he smiles and zips up the old dress. You shiver: wearing a dead woman's gown was not part of your wedding plans. The corset is tightened, and you gasp. His hands are tense.

"I know he proposed to you. And what a stupid grin you had on your face when it happened! You never act like that around me."

He doesn't call me a bitch, for starters, you think to yourself. You shuffle on the bed, trying to loosen up the garment, but he swiftly pins you down onto the mattress.

"Not that it matters. Would you like to know why?" he inquires with a familiar glimmer of jealousy in his dilated pupils. "Because I'll always be your first. You know it, I know it. He never will.

At the end of the day, you belong to me."

To compete with oneself. Nonsense. Utter madness, all of it. The house; the drawer filled with gory trophies; the nightly talks with Mother dearest, whose bones have most likely turned to dust by now; the bloodied scalpels; the embrace of a man who fills you with warmth and terror.

You're part of it now.

[littlemissmiller]

𝑻𝒉𝒆 𝑮𝒊𝒓𝒍 𝑵𝒆𝒙𝒕 𝑫𝒐𝒐𝒓

Pairing: joel miller x fem!reader

Summary: (au) (Joel is dad to a 9 year old Sarah) Joel has been your neighbor for some time and you and him have become friendly. In an attempt to spend more time to him (and a desire to show off your summer body) you throw a pool party…

Warning: 21+ (drinking), smut, fluff, friends to lovers, use of nicknames (babydoll, baby, darling), p in v, ass eating, cowgirl style, fingering, couch sex, porn with a plot

Work count: 4.1k

A/N: hi all! the official first day of summer is today and i got inspired by a pool party i went to with my mans so i just had to write this cute lil smutty, fluffy story. i have a billy request coming and hopefully i get ch 3 of Summer Highs out soon (i know i said it would be soon don’t trust me on a release date which is why i don’t do them) ok that’s it! much love and enjoy ❣︎

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It’s always a hot summer in Texas. It would feel weird if it wasn’t, but this year it feels like the earth is a legit bun in the oven. The whole neighborhood is feeling the heat, so given you have a pool in your backyard, you invite people over for a summer kickoff. Of course it has nothing to do with the fact you are desperate to see Joel Miller in nothing but a pair of swim trunks. From just his work shirts alone, you could see how tight his shirt hugged his muscles. How toned his back was whenever he would sweat through it doing yard work. You would always wave over to him from across the street, occasionally bring him water or lemonade while he worked. And today, your excuse for seeing him was to invite him to your pool party. You catch him outside after work, in his garage tinkering around under his truck. You stroll across the street and walk in. You knock on the side of the garage walls and Joel slides out from under his Silverado.

“Well hey there!” He beams, striding towards you

“What’s up cowboy.”

“Not much, waiting for Sarah to come home from soccer camp.” He informs

“Oh keeping her busy.”

“Well between so and the library reading contest she’s more or less keeping herself busy. Determined to get those Astro tickets. I promised we would do a road trip and she reaches thirty books by the end of June and wins the two tickets. She’s already at twenty five. She has a whole strategy.”

“Wow. Good for her. Well I hope she’s not too busy this weekend…” you state

“Oh yeah why’s that” he smiles, leaning his arm against the garage and above your head. You feel totally lost here with him looking at you how he is. His big brown eyes, so curious and pleasant, simply wondering what you have to say. He raises his eyebrows in anticipation.

“Well I sent out an evite a little bit ago, but I wanted to come tell you in person that I’m having a pool party Saturday. I thought we could all beat the heat ya know.”

“Yeah we‘ll be free.” He steps back, taking a rag from his waist and wiping his hands. He heads toward his garage fridge and gets out two bottles of water, offering you one.

“Thanks. So you do have your own water.”

“Yeah I always keep that fridge full. Especially with Sarah and her friends I practically always got Gatorade.”

“So you just like my water better?”

Joel smiles at you, combing his hair with his fingers. You watch his muscles flex and wish that you can be wrapped in them. He starts to look through his tool box and nods.

“You could say that. So Saturday you said? What time?”

“It starts at 12, but you can stay for as long as you’d like.”

“I’ll talk to Sarah, but I have a feeling she'll say yes. She loves you, so any excuse to see you, she’ll take.”

“I’m sure.”

“We’ll see ya Saturday then.” He winks and disappears back under his truck

You waltz out of the garage and back to your house. You trot inside gleefully and close the door behind you. You could jump, squeal, practically combust. Not only did you just figure out Joel had his own drinks on deck whenever he works, but always accepts an offer from you no matter what. God he must like you. He must. You hope you're not thinking too much into it but, you couldn’t help but think when he said “She loves you, so any excuse to see you, she’ll take…” he really was talking about himself. You bite your lip and roll your eyes. You want him so badly. So bad you feel like you are going to explode. You lean your head back against the door and sigh.

Saturday comes around soon enough, and you spend the whole evening and next morning preparing for the day. You clean your house, chop lettuce, tomatoes and onions for burgers, cut up a watermelon and make a macaroni salad. Even though you hadn’t explicitly asked for his help, you had a feeling Joel would want to help grill and you’d gladly take it. You prepare a cooler with a few beers and some water and put it in your garage fridge. Next you set up the pool area. You lay the cushions on the pool chairs, unwind the umbrellas and set out a few pool noodles. Everything looks perfect and your first guests start arriving around 12:08. More and more people arrive and at around 1:30, you finally see Joel and Sarah pulling up. He walks in with his own cooler and a swim bag. He approaches you while Sarah runs off to the other neighborhood kids.

“Well hey cowboy! Glad you could make it.”

“Yeah sorry we are late. Work called last minute and I had to help them order some more flooring for our site.”

“No worries. But these people are getting hungry and maybe you could help grill. I hate to put you to work…”

“Ain’t no trouble darling.”

“Ok I’m going to change. The patties are already formed, just in the fridge.”

Joel follows you inside and heads into your kitchen, poking his head in the fridge. You walk upstairs to your bedroom and change into your swimsuit. You had gone out that week and picked out a new suit. It was white, a two piece, the edge frilled, and it shaped your figure so well. You spin around and admire how it sits on your ass. The back had a cheeky build, and totally gave the viewer an idea of how your cute little ass looks. Not to mention the way it rides up, exposing your cheeks slightly, it’s perfect and you can’t wait for Joel to see you in it. You put your jean shorts back on and find one of your white, open-knit, pool coverup and a red, and a worn USA baseball cap. You pull your ponytail through the loop of your hat and spin around one last time.

Rushing down the stairs, only to find Joel already outside starting the grill. You sigh in disappointment. You take a beer from your fridge and try to open in on your own. Then Joel walks back inside. Even though your back is turned to him, he can tell you are struggling.

“Need help?”

You jump and turn around, your tits bouncing slightly as you turn, which Joel notices. He also seems slightly speechless as you turn to face him. His sentence cut off, face frozen, as if you stole the words from his mouth.

“Uh yeah, thanks.” You hand him the bottle and he takes it, uncapping it like it’s nothing. He hands it back to you and you take a swig.

“Oh hey so because I was so outta sorts getting out the door, I totally forgot to get sunscreen. You got any, Sarah is itching to get in the pool.”

“Of course” you run back up to your bathroom, find a 50 SPF bottle and head back down stairs. Joel calls out to his daughter and she comes rushing inside. At the sight of your face she enthusiastically calls your name and rushes towards you. You hold her in your arms.

“Hey sunshine!”

“We brought brownies!” She proclaims

“Oh did your dad make them?”

“Mhmm. Well he helped, I really was the baker!” She insists

Joel lets out a playful chuckle and rolls his eyes in amusement.

“Yeah, especially with all those eggshells you had to fish out?”

“At least I know how to preheat the oven.” She claps back

Joel smirks and then looks at you. He has always appreciated how loving and kind you are to Sarah. He appreciates knowing that when she’s with you, she’s in more than good hands. And you adored her as well.

“Hey! let her get that sunscreen on ya.”

“I’m fine! I’ll stay in the shade!” Sarah protests but before she can scurry off you’re already squirting it into your hand, applying it to her shoulders.

“You know you don’t have to listen to him. I thought you’re supposed to be the fun one!” She whines, and you smear her face. She scrunches it up in displeasure.

“I am the fun one. This is called fun in the sun, sunshine.”

She groans and pulls her face away.

“You know I think I saw a bomb pop with your name on it out in the garage fridge, if you can still hang in there for one more second.” You promise. “Ok there. Top shelf in the garage. Bring a few for the other kids. Ok?”

“Yes!” She states firmly and rushes off into the garage

“She just loves to keep ya busy…”

“Tell me about it.” Joel rolls his eyes “you uh…you look nice…” he swallows nervously

“Thanks, it’s new. I got it for today actually.”

“Oh really. Trying to impress someone?” He asks

“Wouldn’t you like to know.” You quip back, smirking “how’s those burgers coming along”

“Grills still heating up, this is really nice of ya to invite everyone. Sarah hasn’t really had much pool time with soccer.”

“Well you two are invited over anytime.”

“Appreciate the offer. What else do you need for these burgers?”

“Here” you state, turning to the fridge and opening it.

You grab the toppings, cheese, and condiments and follow him outside. As Joel grills, you make your way around, chatting with your fellow neighbors. Eventually you get in the pool with a playful “go on sugar, I’ll holler at ya when they are ready” from Joel. As you strip off your top and shorts, Joel checks you out from across the pool. He can’t help but let his eyes linger on the curves of your body, the way your bikini bottoms hug your ass, and how nice and perky your boobs sit on your chest.

You notice him checking you out, your own eyes hidden behind your sunglasses. You try not to look so much, but with his back to you, it’s easier to admire his broad shoulders. And you have to admit, Joel is absolutely radiating domesticity. You could easily get used to this sight. Sarah splashes around you, pretending to be a mermaid looking for pearls and you throw sinking rings for her to dive for. Joel catches you playing with Sarah, and smiles. The smell of hamburger meat fills the air and Joel calls to you. You throw some more rings in to keep Sarah occupied and head out of the pool.

“How are these, little lady?” Joel asks as you approach

“Fantastic! Let’s put cheese on half of them.”

“You got it!”

People start to gather for food and you help Sarah dry off and get her a plate.

“Cheese or no cheese baby?” Joel asks Sarah as she approaches the grill

“Cheeeese!” She smiles, showing off her big smile to her dad

“What about you doll?” He asks you

“Same as her.”

After you eat, you wait a while to get back in the pool. You lay out with a few of the girls from the neighborhood Wine Club. As you chat, Joel admires the way the sun glimmers off your body. With most of the food served, Joel joins his daughter in the pool. You watch as he takes off his shirt, gawking over his bare chest. His shoulders cut into his neck so sharp and clean and you can help but want to feel how strong he is. And You smirk to yourself, happy to finally see him exactly how you wanted to. And he looks damn good in his turquoise-green trunks.

“I’ll be right back…” you excuse yourself, striding over to Joel, swaying your hips

“Can I get you a drink? I’m getting another beer, and maybe one of those brownies I heard about.”

“Oh I want one!” Sarah exclaims

“If you get out you’re getting more sunscreen on ya babe..” Joel promises

“She can bring me one and I can eat in the pool!”

“No, no baby. C’mon.” He argues, lifting Sarah out of the pool and onto the pavement.

“Awww!” Sarah whines, swinging her arms and legs.

You hold her hand and take her to the food, you grab a towel, wrap her in it and get her a small plate. You place a brownie on it and hand it to her.

“Can I have two?” She bats her eyes

“Go ask your daddy…”

She waddles over to Joel, squatting down to ask him. He rolls his eyes and nods and she trots back to you.

“He said I can!”

As the afternoon turns into evening, more and more people head back to their homes and pretty soon the sun is setting. You start to clean up, picking up plates and empty bottles and taking them inside the house.

The last few neighbors pop in to thank you and say goodbye and behind them is Joel.

“Hey…need some help?” Joel asks you

“Oh you’ve done more than enough. Y’all headed out?”

“I uh...sent Sarah home with the Adler’s. They said they’d watch her for the evening until I got back.“

“Oh! Well I would have loved to say goodbye to her.” You frown

“I bet she would have too, but she passed out on my knee even with everyone running around. Danny wanted to get his Ma home anyways…” he explains

He walks up to the kitchen counter and places a few empty beer bottles down. You smile and thank him. He helps bring in a few more bottles and follows you around with a trash bag as you pick up plates and plastic silverware. After everything is cleaned up and the pool is closed up, you and Joel head inside.

“Well I don’t wanna keep you from Sarah much longer.”

“It’s ok, unless that’s your way of kindly kicking me out, then by all means I’ll head out.” He smirks

“No no, you can stay if you like…”

“You sure?”

You nod and he closes the sliding door leading out to the pool, locking it.

“I don’t have much beer left, but you seem like a whiskey guy to me.” You imply

“I sure do.”

You pour him a glass and he leans over your counter. He smiles and he holds the glass to his lips and sips.

“I really appreciate ya Joel.”

“It’s no trouble.”

There is a brief moment of silence as you take a sip of your whiskey and gaze into his big brown eyes. You can’t help but feel he’s looking at you in the same way. A wave of desire washes over you and just as you're about to speak, possibly trying to make a move, Joel strides over to you.

“Ya know if ya ever need my help, I’ll always be willing. Whatever you need…”

“You’re too sweet Joel, I feel like I need to make it up to you.”

“Maybe you can, baby…” the words slip from his lips and steal your breath away. You gasp and move in closer to him.

“I’m sorry, can I call you baby?”

You nod wordlessly.

“Yeah? Well then baby, kiss me…”

You lean up, cupping his face and pressing his lips against your own. He holds your face in return, rubbing his thumbs against your cheeks and moaning into your mouth. Your hands move to cup his neck as you move your face, deepening the kiss. Joel clutches your jaw, pulling you closer and raising you onto your tippy toes. You chuckle against him. This is finally happening. You’re finally kissing the man you’ve dreamed of. Ever since him and Sarah moved in, you have wanted him. It was no secret. Perhaps that’s why the Adler’s offered to watch Sarah. To give you this moment. And you’re ever so thankful.

Joel’s calloused palms move to your waist, slowly trailing down your body, feeling the sides of your bare skin. You hadn’t bothered putting your swim shirt back on after the pool and you were grateful. You welcome his fingers and let out a girlish giggle, his feather light touch overwhelming.

“How late do you wanna stay?”

Joel checks his watch. It’s 8:10.

“I told the Adlers I would be back by 9 so I mean…is that enough time for you…”

“I’ll take whatever you give me.” You smile against his face, kissing his cheek.

With that he returns his mouth to your own and he moves to cup under your shorts. He squeezes your ass and moves his hands under your thighs. In one swift motion he picks you up and is moving you both to your couch. You and him stumble into it and he sits down with you on his lap. You gasp and pull back.

“Ok that was fucking hot Miller, my god could you get any sexier.”

“You know what’s sexy…” he implies, pulling on the front of your bikini top, snapping the strap

“You like it?”

“You look like an absolute snack in this thing darling. And your ass, fuck I couldn’t stop looking at it by the pool.” he pants

“Glad you noticed. I was trying to impress you if you didn’t pick up on that when I told you.”

“Oh I did, and it worked. It definitely worked.” He sighs, sealing his words with another searing kiss.

You rock against him as his mouth moves with yours. You simply can’t get enough of him like this and he desperately wants to devour you. His hands wrap around your back, pulling you flush against his chest. He moves to squeeze your ass again, fingers dancing underneath your jeans. He grabs and gropes you, causing you to whine and whimper into his mouth.

“I love those pretty little noises you make, baby. I can’t wait to hear what other noises you make for me.” He whispers

He pulls at the hem of your jeans, tugging on them until they slide down your ass. You stand up, pulling them down your smooth legs. He starts rubbing the back of your thighs, moving his hands up and down and settling them underneath the cheek of your ass. He pulls your waist close to his face, your pelvis practically grinding up against his nose and lips. You delicately place your hands on his shoulders as he admires you.

“Let me see that cute little ass of yours again, babydoll”

Then suddenly you are spun around and he grips the strings of your bikini bottoms slowly pulling them down. As he does, he kisses the bear skin that’s being revealed to him until his lips are consuming your ass. You let out a sigh, arching your back slightly as his mouth finds your core. He dives in, placing his hands on the meat of your ass and nuzzling into your cheeks. His soft lips began to kiss your folds, and you buck up against his face. He growls against you, groping your cheeks and diving in to taste you. His mouth and tongue finds your clit and he begins to lap at it. He’s so hungry for you. So desperate to drink up your juices like a sweet nectar. Your legs quiver slightly and Joel notices. He wraps his hands around the front of your thighs, steadying you , while simultaneously pulling you closer to his mouth. He pulls back quickly, replacing his mouth with his fingers. He rubs the sensitive bundle of nerves feverishly, cooing as you moan and whine.

“Tastes so good. So fucking good baby.” He whispers.

He mouths at your pussy, his saliva mixing with your juices, making you so wet. You’re throbbing into his mouth and he places a few chase kisses to your cunt, before pulling away. He takes his shirt off and tosses it aside. He gives your core a few more open mouth kisses then spins you around once more, and you take off your top. You slowly pull the dainty string, letting your bikini top fall off you and onto his lap. He moans, clutching the top in his hand. You move to straddle him and he tosses the top on the ground.

Before you can put your weight on him, he bucks his hips, taking his trunks off. His cock springs forward and he takes his incredible length in his hand. He slowly pumps himself and you lower your ass onto his thighs. You don’t quite sink into him yet, wanting to appreciate this moment with him. He cups your ass and you clasp the back of his neck. He leans forward to press feather light kisses along your jaw and neck. Then his actions get more aggressive as he starts to manipulate your breasts. You mewl and arch into him. Your entire body starts to slowly rock against his, teasing him with your wet core on his cock.

“Fuck I want you. I can feel ya. So wet.”

You nod, biting your lip and Joel loves his hand down in between your legs again. He plays with your clit for a moment, before sinking a finger in you. You buck up on him, and steady yourself on his shoulders. He pumps his finger into you, loving the way your heat and juices consume his digit. He adds another one, and you feel so incredibly full.

“You ready for me?” Joel murmurs against your neck.

“Mhmm, please Joel. I’ve wanted this for so long!” You gasp as he removes his fingers. He wraps his hand around his cock, guiding it to your entrance. The tip pokes in, then you engulf the rest, taking his full length in you. He lets out a staggering moan as he works his lips down to your collarbone and valley of your breasts. You move your hips, slowly grinding on his cock and your tits bounce in his face. He chuckles and looks up at you. He sits back, holding your hips as you ride him.

“Fucking look at you girl. So gorgeous my god.”

You giggle in return, feeling up your body and playing with your boobs.

“That’s it, put on a little show for me.”

You bounce on him, continuing to feel your body and then you touch your clit, swirling it around in between your fingers. You let out a long, breathy moan, tilting your head back.

“Mmm Joel, Joel Joel Joel….” You hang his name as he squeezes your ass harshly. He helps you move, shoving your body onto his cock and moving his hands to hold your hips.

“That’s it. Oh my god you’re perfect…”

You learn back slightly, rolling your hips and tummy. He splays his hands over your waist, his breath hitching. He loves watching you move. He loves how you feel and needs more. Joel moves expertly to stand up, keeping himself buried inside you and, placing you on your back, you yelp as he lays you on the couch. He dives in for your lips again. He crawls on top of you, wasting no time shoving his length into you. Cupping your face. He rocks his hips, his cock filling you up once again. He speeds up, drilling into you. Your legs fold up to your chest, giving him better access to your pussy. As he thrusts into you, his beautiful eyes meet your own, his gaze thirsty for more. He rests his forehead against you and pants.

“You close?”

“If you touch me again. Play with me a little then I’ll come… please Joel…”

“Yeah? Like this baby?”

He aggressively rubs your core, his hand in sync with his hips. You nod and let out a series of incoherent babbles. You move against his hand and cock, a pool of ecstasy filling your stomach and drowning your senses. Your heat builds and builds until you break. You clench down around him, your breath leaving you as Joel’s mouth falls onto your own. With a few more of his own pumps, his seed is spilling inside you.

“Oh shit” he curses “fuck baby it’s just you felt so good shit I’m sorry.”

“It’s fine I’m on the pill.”

“You sure it’s ok?

You nod and he kisses you deeply, lips pressing firmly on your own. You moan, holding his face.

“You just might be the most perfect thing on the planet, ya know that?”

“Whatever you say.” you chuckle

“I know this may come off as formal given what we just did, but I really wanna take you out for a drink sometime. Like an actual date. If you want?”

“Yes Joel, I’d like that very much.”

꧁•☀︎•꧂

[roosterforme]

Aim for the Sky Part 24 | Rooster x Reader

Summary: Spoiled beyond his wildest dreams, Bradley tries to take some time to appreciate everything he has on his birthday, but it can be hard to contain his excitement.

Warnings: Fluff, angst, adult language, lactation kink, body image, oral sex, anal sex, DILF Roo

Length: 3800 words

Pairing: Bradley "Rooster" Bradshaw x Female Reader

Aim for the Sky masterlist. This was written to accompany my series Is It Working For You? along with a bunch of my one-shots and other series, but it can be read on its own! Check my masterlist for the reading order.

Bradley was eager. He didn't want you to know how eager, but he was sure it was obvious by now.

"Your cheeks are pink," you whispered, cupping them in both of your hands as he buckled you in. "Did all the dancing and hot sauce get to you?"

"Something like that," he murmured, kissing you so thoroughly, you gasped when he pulled away. The look you gave him beneath the dome light was indecent as he dragged his hand up your body and between your breasts so he could stroke your chin and your perfect cheek. Oh, you absolutely knew why his face was flushed and his hands were so grabby. But it was your fault anyway.

"Should we head home for the night?" you asked innocently.

As if you hadn't been talking about how your ass was all his since this morning.

Fuck. Every year, you gave him the most perfect birthday. When he turned thirty-six, you took him to La Jolla, and he couldn't wait to take you back there next week when your parents came out to watch Rose. Last year when he turned thirty-seven, he fucked you so hard in the backseat of your wretched little Honda Civic, he totaled the thing. At least you got pregnant with Rose that night.

And this year, he got to spend the evening reminiscing and enjoying the company of his wife and his daughter. He couldn't even remember how fucking bad every other birthday was between the year he lost his mom and when he turned thirty-five right before he met you. Since then, he'd been treated like a king. Today was no different. Tonight would follow suit.

"Yeah," he grunted, "let's go home."

The drive back to Coronado was mostly quiet while Rose slept. You had your hand on Bradley's thigh, and he had his hand on top of yours.

"You're excited," you whispered into the darkness. "I can practically feel your anticipation, Roo."

"Oh, fuck," he groaned. He was a complete mess for you tonight, and you knew it. He might as well just say it, but he didn't want you to think you didn't satisfy him all the time. He ran his left hand over his face when he stopped at a red light. "I'm really horny, Sweetheart. Somehow you know just what to do that's going to make me go wild. You've always known."

He could feel you preening next to him as the light turned green, and he hit the accelerator. "I like making you excited on your birthday."

"You do this to me every day," he insisted.

A few minutes later, he was rushing Rose inside in her car seat, and you were locking the door behind him. "I'll put her down in her crib if you put Tramp outside?"

You were already heading for the sliding glass door as you said, "I'll meet you in our bedroom."

He grunted in response, unclipping Rose from her carrier and depositing her gently in her crib. "I'll come back to change your diaper," he promised, straightening out her outfit. 

He needed to calm the fuck down, because the last thing he wanted to do was hurt you. But when he walked into the bedroom, you made eye contact before pulling your dress over your head and tossing it onto the floor.

"You're killing me," he groaned, already working at his shirt buttons as you climbed into bed in your matching red lace bra and thong. He wrenched the fabric over his head and nearly fell down as he tried to take his shoes and jeans off at the same time. 

Just as he was about to dive in bed after you, he watched you hold up your hand and whisper, "Go get the lube from the bathroom drawer, birthday boy."

Bradley felt dizzy as he turned toward the open doorway and dug around inside your drawer until he was rewarded with exactly what he needed. Armed with the water based lube and a massive boner, this time he did dive into bed with you. The bottle came to rest next to your head, and you giggled as he dipped down into a push up to kiss you.

"You are eager."

"There's no point in lying, Sweetheart. I am fucking eager." 

It was almost better that this was a rare occurrence for him, because he just knew how good it was going to be as you tilted your chin up to kiss him. He could feel your hands on his abs before they slid inside his underwear. His eyes fluttered closed against the feel of your fingers teasing him, and he whispered, "I'm already turned on. Let me turn you on, too."

As he worked his way down your body, he felt your hands on his face. "Don't look at my belly," you whispered, pushing him further down toward your pussy.

"I like your belly," he grunted, pulling your underwear down so he could get to your tattoo and kiss you everywhere. "I like everything about you. Why do you think I'm so turned on?"

"Because you're about to have anal sex."

"With my wife." Bradley's lips skimmed your pussy as he spoke. "I'm turned on, because I've been thinking about you. And how fucking hot you are. And about the fact that you trust me not to hurt you. And how you let know every intimate inch of your body."

"Roo," you whimpered as he licked your pussy before kissing you there.

"I don't really care if we have anal sex tonight or never again," he said, looking up your body and meeting your gaze as your fingers gripped his hair. "But don't act like the mere notion of me getting to explore and enjoy your body isn't going to drive me wild. You know me. You know what you do to me."

He watched your lace covered chest rise and fall as you sighed deeply. Bradley took your thighs in his hands as you spread your legs wider for him. "I want you to enjoy every inch of me."

He ran his nose through your slick warmth, kissing you everywhere while he said, "You're absolutely fucking perfect, Baby Girl."

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

You weren't expecting to feel emotional tonight, but while your husband ate your pussy, leaving you a squirming, writhing mess in the middle of the bed, your heart skipped a beat as you replayed his words. 

I like everything about you. Why do you think I'm so turned on?

He told you so frequently that he thought you were perfect, and you kind of felt perfect as you sucked in deep breaths in nothing but your red bra while he gave you an absolutely killer orgasm.

"Oh god," you whined, your right heel digging into his back as he sucked on your clit and hit that mind-blowing spot inside you with two firm fingers. Bradley knew just what to do because you'd willingly let him explore your body to his heart's content for years. And you wanted him to have more, because you knew he'd give you more in return.

When your back arched off the bed and you came for him, you saw colorful stars at the edge of your vision. It was just that damn good. It took you a few seconds to catch your breath, but when you did, you rolled onto your stomach and looked back at him.

"It's your birthday, not mine," you whispered, and he raised one eyebrow before crawling until his body was covering yours. "Why am I the one getting all the orgasms?"

"Because I love you," he replied, kissing your cheek. You could feel his erection against the back of your thigh, and you wiggled your rear end against him until he groaned. "If you keep teasing me with that thing, I'm going to make a mess all over you."

You didn't try to hide your smile as you said, "Go ahead and make a mess inside me. Just go slow so it doesn't hurt."

His dark eyes widened a bit. "In your ass?" When you nodded, he asked, "Are you sure?"

"I'm absolutely sure, birthday boy."

But he didn't jump right to it. He carefully unhooked your bra and slid it down your shoulders so he could kiss the full expanse of your back. "You're so fucking soft," he whispered. His lips and mustache left your skin extra sensitive as he sucked along the back of your neck until you were moaning his name. "That sounds so pretty." Then you felt his hands rough against your ass and your thighs before he made himself at home, lapping at your pussy from behind. You knew you were still wet, and he used your slick to coat up your asshole with his tongue, big hands gripping you.

"Does that feel good?" he asked, and you groaned a garbled answer letting him know that yes, it did. "Want me to keep going?"

You could feel his finger at your opening, and you whimpered. "As long as you use the lube."

He did, and he worked at you for a while, never rushing you to the next stage before you were comfortable. His fingers were thick, but you knew how big his cock was, and you balled your fists up in the sheets and got onto your knees when you were ready for him.

The stretch felt good. Bradley's body behind yours was like a dream, and his voice in your ear as he pushed himself incrementally deeper made you relax. "Jesus Christ," he rasped. "My god, Sweetheart. Oh, fuck." His lips were on your shoulder, and then his face was tucked against your neck as he whined softly, chest heaving against your back. You felt almost too full as his hips met your ass. "Am I hurting you?"

When you wiggled in response, Bradley's nose dug into the side of your neck, a string of expletives flowing from his lips. "It feels almost good," you promised. "Like I couldn't be more full."

"If I move, I'll cum," he groaned. "But I really, really fucking want to move."

You rolled your hips against him, and it didn't hurt, but now his forearms were shaking, and his knuckles were white, and you knew how hard he was trying to keep himself still. "You can thrust slowly."

He did. He gave you three long, languid thrusts where you felt every bit of him, and then you knew by the sounds he was making that he was almost there. One more wiggle from you, and he was up on his knees with his hands gripping your hips, filling your ass with his cum.

"Jesus fucking Christ," he crooned, withdrawing himself inch by inch until you heard him say, "that's so goddamn pretty." His fingers were smoothing along your pussy up to where you could feel the mess he made on your skin. "What a perfect ass."

Then he was a fatigued mess, sprawled out on his back on the bed, pulling you closer to him. "Happy birthday," you whispered, and he looked up at you with pink cheeks and wide eyes.

"I am so spoiled by my wife."

"You are, Roo. It's insane."

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

After a quick trip to the nursery to change Rose into a sleeper, Bradley coaxed you into the shower with him where he took the time to clean both of you up. "It's almost midnight, Daddy. Did you enjoy your day?"

"You know I did. It was absolutely perfect."

"There's cake for you in the kitchen."

He narrowed his eyes. "Are you still talking about your ass, or..."

"Actual cake," you told him with a laugh. "I baked it the other day and then hid it." He honestly didn't know how he deserved to be treated this well, but he always tried his best to do the same for you. He was too in love not to.

You definitely seemed to be less self conscious now as he ran his hand down your belly before using it to give you a soft smack on the ass. "I would love to have any and all of your various types of cake." He leaned down to kiss the tops of your breasts. "Rosie will probably wake up soon wanting to eat. That's literally the only thing holding me back from going to town on these bad boys."

Your laughter filled the room. "I think you've just about reached your treat limit for the day. But the cake in the kitchen is lemon."

"My favorite," he whispered, kissing your lips. "You're the best."

Once you were both towel dried and dressed for bed, Bradley scooped you up and carried you into the kitchen. "A year ago, I was fucking a baby into you."

"You fucked a baby into me, and you fucked up my car beyond repair. That was a big night for you, Bradley." When he set you down on the counter, you yelped.

"What?" he asked as you cling onto him instead.

"My asshole is sore," you whispered, eyes wide.

"Oh. I'm sorry."

You smiled which made him smile. "I just wasn't expecting it," you said with a laugh as you slid down his body until you were standing. "It's not terrible. Kind of a nice reminder of your birthday present." You reached for the lemon cake which had apparently been hiding with the pots and pans for days when you gasped. "I forgot! I got you another present."

Bradley watched you run into the spare room at the bottom of the stairs, and a moment later, you returned with a gift wrapped in red paper with a silver bow on it.

"Before you open it, please remember that you did ask for this."

Curiosity got the best of him. The day was already too good to be true, but when he tore into the paper, he knew what it was almost immediately. "Another sexy calendar," he moaned, and then his eyes bugged out. "A pregnant, sexy calendar."

"That's what you wanted," you repeated when he looked at you. "I had the photographer take them before you met me at the beach for maternity photos."

He absolutely did remember asking for it, but he couldn't believe you actually did it for him. January was a photo of you in your red bikini, pregnant with Rosie, hand resting on your belly. February was you wearing some kind of flowy dress that left nothing to the imagination. March was you in your unbuttoned jean shorts with your hands over your breasts, adorable bump front and center. April had you in a top with your tits practically spilling out of it.

"Incredible," he murmured, mesmerized by May where you were playing in the water in a wet, white tee shirt.

"You like it?" you asked as you sliced up some birthday cake.

"It's fantastic," he groaned when he got to June. It was a close up of your face and tits in that same wet shirt. "Holy hell." You were holding out a forkful of cake to him. "Are you going to make me a sexy calendar every year for my birthday?" he asked before taking the bite which melted on his tongue.

"Only if you're very well behaved. Those things require me to muster up every fiber of my courage, and I swear the photographer works some sort of magic to make me look so good."

"You always look that good, Sweetheart. If you check the photo gallery in my phone, you look just as hot in every photo in there as you do in the calendar pictures. You look that good right now. And you looked that good at the hot sauce restaurant. And you looked that good with my cock in your ass an hour ago."

Once again, he had you preening before him as you fed him more cake. "If you insist, Roo."

"I insist. I look at you more than anyone else does. I've got to be some sort of expert." He took another bite from the fork. "This is incredible. Thank you for everything today." He propped his new calendar up against the backsplash, open to June. 

"Just make sure you put that away before my parents get here on Sunday," you said, tossing the fork into the sink and wrapping your arms around his waist.

"Right," he replied. You had him so excited about Father's Day and his birthday, he almost forgot they were flying in. "I'll put it out with all my workout gear tomorrow," he promised. "And you better start packing for La Jolla."

"I'll just throw some stuff in a bag before we leave on Thursday," you told him with a shrug.

"But I want you to make sure you pack all of your sexiest outfits. You always look good no matter what, but I love peeling that stuff off you."

You buried your face against his chest and whispered, "Okay." He could tell you were smiling just as Rose started crying.

"Midnight. On the dot," Bradley groaned, leading you backwards through the kitchen. "That kid is punctual."

You leaned up and kissed him, "I love you, birthday boy."

"I love you, too," he said over the sound of his daughter wailing to be fed. His past three birthdays were each more exciting than the last. He had no idea what else could be in store for him, but he wanted all of it.

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

On Sunday, you sat down very gingerly to enjoy brunch with Maria and Cam. You were still sore from Friday, and then last night, Bradley spanked you for being sassy. It wasn't entirely your fault you accidentally called him Daddy while you were FaceTiming your parents. He was using his commanding voice, going over the schedule for the upcoming week. You didn't think your parents even heard you say it, but you happily accepted your 'punishment' in the form of Bradley's hand on your ass and his cock in your pussy as soon as the call was over.

"Your parents are coming out today?" Cam asked, snapping your attention back to the last bit of your avocado toast and mimosa.

"Yeah. They're staying with Rose for a few nights while Bradley and I drive up to La Jolla. I won't be at work on Thursday."

"Bob and I are going away for Independence Day, too," Maria said dreamily. "He's taking me to Santa Barbara."

"Fuck you both," Cam grumbled, biting into some cinnamon toast. He chewed obnoxiously as he said, "I wish I had a hot aviator. I'll just be at home alone, watching Marvel shows and trying to feel something."

"I'll send you a postcard," you told him, giving him a loud kiss on the cheek.

"How's Rose?" Maria asked, ignoring Cam's comments completely. 

"Adorable," you sighed. "You'll get to see her when Bradley picks me up to head to the airport." 

No sooner did you mention your husband and daughter, and then they appeared. 

"Hey," Bradley greeted your friends, leaning down to kiss you with Rose in his arms. He was wearing his aviators low on his nose, and he looked so good.

"Hi," Cam mumbled, and you could tell how badly he wanted to call your husband Lieutenant Commander Mustache. Maria on the other hand popped out of her seat to get to the baby.

"She got big," she said, scooping her out of Bradley's arms. "Such a big girl now."

Bradley eyed you over his sunglasses, and his smirk reminded you of last night. "We need to leave soon. They land in less than an hour."

"It's my turn to pay anyway," you said, digging in your wallet for some cash before Bradley handed you his credit card.

"I really hate you at times," Cam murmured, and you had to stifle your laughter.

"I only have love in my heart for you."

He rolled his eyes, but both of you were stifling your laughter now as Maria continued to bounce around with Rose. Eventually you signed the slip and handed it back to Bradley along with his credit card. "I'll see you both at work tomorrow," you promised, picking up your bag as Bradley took Rose back from Maria.

When you walked out of the restaurant, you saw several heads turn in your direction as women stared. "Everyone is looking at the DILF," you whispered.

"Where?" Bradley asked in confusion, looking around with his brow furrowed. 

"I'm referring to you," you replied with a laugh as you walked out toward the red Bronco. He rolled his eyes but put a firm hand on your waist.

"Hang on. I want to buckle you in after I put her in her car seat."

So you waited until he was ready before climbing in the passenger seat, and then he pulled the seatbelt across your body before giving you a kiss. "Thanks, Roo."

He kissed your lips and the tip of your nose. "Let's get to the airport. Last time, their flight was early."

It was smooth sailing down the highway, and Rose was asleep by the time the Bronco was parked in the garage where she was conceived. Of course Bradley made a comment about it as he very carefully scooped her up again.

"Do you want to use the stroller?" you asked, but he immediately shook his head.

"I like carrying her like this."

"I know you do," you said, heart melting as you watched him kiss the top of her head. "I just thought I'd ask."

He carried her with both hands, and you tucked your arm around his waist as you headed inside and looked for their baggage carousel number. "This way," he rasped, and you followed him to the far end of the area. You snuggled in against him while you waited, and Bradley kissed the top of your head this time. "I cannot wait to get you in that fancy hotel room and have you all to myself."

You tilted your face up toward his and kissed the corner of his mustache. "Just so you know, my asshole still hurts."

"Fuck, Baby Girl," he grunted. "You always do this to me. You always say or do something to get me all stirred up right before your parents arrive."

You were about to tell him you had no idea what he was talking about, but you heard your mom calling your name. And when you turned, she was rushing toward you with your dad in her wake. "There they are! Oh, and look how sweet Rose looks!"

Bradley glared down at you, and you bit your lip and smiled up at him. "I'll make it up to you in La Jolla."

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

Happy birthday, DILF Roo. If you have an idea for something BG can do in La Jolla to "make it up to him", I would love to hear it. Thanks @beyondthesefourwalls

PART 25

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[evieolo]

Breathy — Matt Sturniolo x Fem!Reader

Contains: SMUT!!/fem!receiving/fingering/aftercare

Request: Reader comes home after a long day and is super tired and stressed and Matt wants to take care of her

“How was work?” Matt’s asking the second you enter his house.

You sigh, feeling your social battery at an all-time low, “It was Ok.” You mutter, tossing your keys to the nearest table, you step closer to Matt wrapping him into a tight hug, and breathe deeply against him.

“Ok?” Matt questions, he laughs slightly reading into your body language, “What’s wrong?”

You pout and pull away from the hug, looking straight into his eyes. “I just wanted to spend time with you, but I’m too tired now. So now your nights going to be ruined.”

Matt smiles and nips a kiss to your neck, trailing his hands down from your waist to the bumps of your hips. “Baby, my night isn’t ruined.” He moves his left palm from your hips to your ass, giving your butt a light squeeze before directing his palm’s attention to your shoulders, “Do you want a massage?” He hums, acting before you can respond, kneading his hands through the knots in your shoulder blades.

You shake your head ‘no’ shrugging his hands off your shoulders and let out a deep sigh, “Work was just…hard today.” You express, letting your shoulders tense back up at the reminiscence of the day.

Matt notices your strained attitude and frowns slightly before speaking,

“you’re so stressed, pretty, how about I take care of you.”

You look at him, a hungry but understanding look in his eyes. One that says he wants to help you out definitely sexually, but there’s a gleam of sympathy in his look.

You nod, feeling heat bubble in your core and quickly pull his head to yours. Tangling his lips with yours in a matter of seconds.

He kisses you sensually, the kiss itself has your worries melting away, but his hands have carnal desires, one moving to the underside of your thigh, and lifting it up, hoisting it against his side, the other groping your ass.

You get the memo and wrap your legs tightly around his waist, still locked in a kiss.

Matt presses your back against the nearest wall, getting a better grip on your hips before he makes his way to his room, shoving the door open with a half-occupied palm and prowling to his bed, placing a hand on the small of your back to guide you down while he sets you on the mattress.

Hunching over you, Matt grabs a pillow from the head of his bed and places it above where your head sits. “Scoot up baby, get comfortable.” He hums. You oblige and rest your head on his satin pillow, sighing as the silk of his pillowcase elevates your head and neck with comfort.

Matt loses himself staring at you, he can’t help it you’re beautiful. But you’re also aching to be touched and Matt’s doing everything but touching you.

Matt notices the ‘discomfort’ in your expression and coos at you, “What do you need sweetie?” He questions, sultry sweet coming off his tongue.

You whine, shimmying in your position trying to possibly get closer to him. “Need you to touch me, please Matty.” You plead.

Matt nods admiring you for a moment more before gripping the band of your work pants and slipping them down your thighs swiftly, “No need to beg sweetie, I’m here to make you feel good.”

Your heat throbs in anticipation, waiting for Matt to do something. Even the slightest of actions to stimulate you.

This, he does, pressing a kiss to your clothed heat through your thin panties. This sends a shiver up your spine.

Refusing to beg anymore, you let Matt move at his mannerly pace, lucky, he pulls your panties off and lets them loom by your knees, ducking under them to get closer access to your heat.

He runs a finger through your slit. Finally. And admires the gleaming wetness that coats it before sticking his finger in his mouth, sucking the taste of you off of his digit slowly and slipping his finger out of his mouth with a light ‘pop’

“You taste so good, baby.” He grins, moving closer to your wetness.

Momentarily his hot breath fans you, before his lips meet your bud and he sucks.

You moan breathlessly, feeling pleasure overtake your senses, and squirm at the overwhelming pleasure.

“Gonna make you feel so good.” Matt breathes pulling away. He was eating you out for his pleasure.

He presses another kiss to your throbbing clit before slowly licking a stripe up your slick. Shivering at the contact, you whine, nearly about to tell him to stop teasing when he shoves his tongue into your hole, plunging it quickly in and out of your wetness and wriggling it inside of you while he does so.

Matt’s messy while he does this, decorating his face with a mix of his spit and your wetness, your mind is going into a frenzy.

The pressure of your upcoming orgasm has your stomach knotting, on top of that, it's making you sleepy. No thoughts are on your mind but Matt - Matt and his tongue that’s now running flat against your slick.

Your breathy moans fill the room, usually, you’re louder. Matt knows you don’t moan as loud when it’s late. You’re tired. Knowing this, he’s fueled further - he wants to hear your pretty noises.

Wet noises fill the room as Matt’s lips run against you, bumping your clit with every movement. Then he adds a finger, one to test the waters, but quickly, he adds a second, pumping them quickly into your heat while his mouth stimulates your clit.

“Fuck, Matty s’good” You moan lightly.

Pulling away momentarily, Matt pauses to speak, “I’m making you feel good pretty girl?” He confirms, not waiting for your response before he starts lapping at your heat again - this time his tongue flicking more rapidly over your bud.

Your eyes pinch shut, struggling to form words you choke out a strangled, “So good.” Being brought, through your tiredness to an orgasm.

Matt’s fingers plunge into you, ramming your g-spot easily for the nth time, this sets you over the edge. You feel a wave of ecstasy crash over you, then your legs start to shake.

Matt notices this, smiling slightly into your heat before continuing at the same pace.

“M’cumming,” You whimper out through a trail of quiet moans.

Matt acknowledges this with a hum, sending a vibration straight to your core, and then your orgasm is crashing down on you. Your walls spasm, clenching around Matt’s fingers as you release.

Matt pulls his face away from your heat but continues thrusting his fingers inside of you, helping you ride out your orgasm. Limply, your hips jolt up into his, signaling the slight overstimulation he’s bringing you. Matt notices.

“You did so good for me baby,” He coos, dragging his fingers out of you, “So, so good.”

You nod at his words, opening your lidded eyes to look down at him. He makes this task easier, lifting himself out of the space between your thighs and leaning over you at face level.

“Wanna taste yourself?” He asks, sensually hinting for a kiss. You nod, drowsily from your orgasm, and Matt cups your face into a kiss, moving sloppily against your tired list.

You hum into the kiss, pulling him closer to you (if even possible) by tugging at his hair. Tasing the foreign honey of your slick on his tongue you pull away from the kiss. Giving him a short peck before pushing him away slightly.

Matt stands, towering over you as he does so. “Still stressed baby?” He coos.

You shake your head ‘no’ and Matt smiles lightly, “Are you gonna sleep now?” He questions, helping you reposition so you’re lying at the head of the bed.

You nod again, “Yes please.”

Matt smiles, “Want me to tuck you in?” He asks jokingly, “mhm” you mumble, “I also want cuddles.” You slur drowsily.

Matt chuckles and drapes the comfort out over you. You hum as the satin of the blanket hits your skin.

Matt strolls over to the edge of his room, flicking the light off before walking back to his bed, dipping the mattress towards him as he sinks into the sheets, he lays next to you. Pressing a light kiss to your forehead and muttering out a ‘good night’ before he realizes you’re already asleep.

[luveline]

hey jade! i’m really going through it right now so was wondering if we could have something with eddie and roan? i love them

eddie and roan try to make you feel better after a strange day alone. (step) mom!reader, 1.5k

You don’t feel well, but you’re having a hard time articulating why that is. 

Maybe not having Eddie and Roan at home is throwing you off kilter. You don’t have reason anymore to be here without them. You wake up and leave while they’re still getting ready, and you get home after they're already home. If Roan is at her Uncle Wayne’s, Eddie’s begging for a date night or spending the weekend in your lap, and if Eddie’s with friends, Roan’s hanging off of you with a Barbie in hand. You’re used to having company. You love it. 

Your stomach aches at the thought of seeing them… You miss them, but it isn’t what’s making you feel so poorly. Life is just tough right now, it’s hard, and you’re tired. 

You curl up into the couch, the tight fabric of your work trousers stretched over the backs of your thighs. They aren’t used to this positioning. You’d change if you had the energy. 

“Watch the step,” Eddie says from outside. You scrunch up into yourself further, knowing you’ll have to explain why you’re home, and worse why you didn’t tell him you’ve been here all day. “Babe, every day! You come up these steps every day and you still don’t remember.” 

The babe in questions laughs at his light chastisement. “Well, sometimes it moves.” 

“Does not.”

“Does too.”

Eddie turns his key in the door and tries to open it. “Oh, what? Did I forget to lock the door?” 

Now is the least awkward time to confess. You force yourself to sit on the couch on your knees and look over the back of it, catching his attention as he opens the door. “Sorry, just me,” you say. 

Eddie takes Roan by the shoulder to direct her to you. “Hey, mom!” he says, surprised. 

“Mommy,” Roan says, chubby cheeks rounding as she smiles and drops her school bag on the floor. “What are you home for?” 

You sit down properly as they both enter the living room, arms already open in anticipation of Roan’s hug. She climbs into your lap shoes and all, her purple coat wet with the drizzle outside. “You’re so cold,” you worry, hugging her close to your chest. Her nose is pinking, her lips chapped. “Oh no, princess. The weather got you.” 

She laughs easily, sinking into your embrace. “It’s cold outside.”

“I can feel it on you. You need some chapstick.” 

She puckers for a kiss. You laugh and kiss her cheek as she kisses yours. 

Eddie takes his coat off and folds it over his arm. He smells like diesel immediately, oil staining his wrists and the thigh of his work pants, but he’s amazingly handsome, so you barely notice. “What are you doing home, lovely girl?” he asks, meeting your eyes over her mess of damp curls. 

It catches you off guard. Eddie is a solid babe guy. Babe, baby, bub. Sweetheart and sweet thing when he’s feeling brazen, but ‘lovely girl’ is rare. Pretty girl when he’s flirting, but lovely? He says it so softly, it falls off of his tongue, with the sort of gentleness he’d give Roan when she’s hurting. You must look more wounded than you thought. 

Your voice turns tight. “Um– uh.” You clear your throat, eyes widening as Eddie approaches, as he leans down to touch your cheek. “I–” You look between him and Roan, not wanting to upset her, but not being able to handle it internally. “Eddie.” 

“What?” he asks in concern. “What, Y/N?” He puts his hand on Roan’s shoulder, thumb quick to rub a soothing line. 

“I just don’t feel very well,” you say weirdly. 

You sound like you’re going to burst, they both hear that. You frown at Roan as she frowns at you, trying hard to fight back tears. “Sorry,” you say, touching her cheek with the back of your pinky. “Sorry, Ro, I’m okay.”

Eddie scoops Roan gently off of your lap and puts her in the seat beside you. “I’m sorry I’m so filthy,” he says, kneeling down in front of you, hands on your legs, “I don’t want to ruin your nice shirt.” He looks you in the eye. 

You shake your head. 

“Hey. Tell me.” He waits, as he always waits. You could tell him anything in the world right now and he’d make it better, because he’s been taking care of you for a long time. 

“I couldn’t face it.” 

Eddie catches the tear in your lashes before it can fall. “Couldn’t face what, sweetheart? Work?”

“I just didn’t want to do anything today.” 

“That’s okay. God, I wish you’d told me, but that’s okay!” He leans up for you, taking your face into his hands. “Is something wrong? You can tell me anything, sweetheart.” 

You close your eyes and let your face fall forward into his hands. Your lips part, but in place of the apology you’d meant to give falls a whining breath of air, a sudden dispelled panic. Things feel so awful, but he’s going to take care of you; your relief is an immensity off of your shoulders. 

“It’s okay,” he says, kissing your cheek, hands moving around to the back of your neck. He holds you in place. 

A small hand touches your back. “Yeah!” Roan says, patting you with a clumsiness that’s clearly meant to be gentle. “Don’t be sad, mom, please.” 

“I’m not,” you say uselessly. 

“It’s okay,” Eddie says again. “Roro, she’s not sad, she’s tired. We cry all the time when we’re tired, don’t we? She needs to lie down.” 

You laugh through your tears. There’s a sludgy headache behind your eyes and your throat aches —you really do want to lie down. 

“Sorry if I’m freaking you out,” you say. 

“You always freak me out,” Eddie says, “that’s your thing. You’re amazing.” 

You laugh-sob and force him into a hug that gets oil all over the side of your shirt. Eddie holds you without argument, without a hint of complaint. He just sits up on his knees even though it must hurt and covers up as much of you as he can with his arms, his hair all over your face, your breath damp and warming your skin where you're tucked into his front. “I should have called you this morning,” you say with a little sob.

“Yeah, babe, you should have, but it’s fine. We’re here now.” 

Roan stands on the couch, hugging your heads. “‘Xactly!” 

Eddie asks Roan to go and get changed. You see him winking from the corner of your eye, and Roan kisses you with a smacking, “Mwah!” before she does as he’s asked. From there, Eddie turns investigative. “What’s wrong?” he asks between kisses, the daintiest, softest kisses he’s ever given you as he rubs your tacky cheek. “Please tell me. You can’t just be by yourself all day when you don’t feel like yourself. You gotta keep me in the loop.” 

“I really didn’t mean to. I thought you’d still be here ‘cos I got to work and I turned straight back around but you’d already left, and then I kept wanting to call you but I didn’t know what to say. I just feel sick and everything is stressing me out.” 

“Okay,” he says, kissing you super, super softly before climbing onto his feet. “I’m gonna get your notepad and we’ll make a list. We’ll write it all down, and we’ll see what we can fix.” He smiles hopefully. “It might even be fun.” 

You lift your head and look at him, his lovely eyes creased with concern, his hair falling into his face, the dirt on his arms. He’s worked all day and now he’s taking care of you, even though you don’t know what’s wrong. 

You stand before he can get away from you and thrust your face into his chest, arms thrown behind him. “I’m so glad you’re home,” you say. 

Eddie covers the back of your neck, a smile evident in his tone, “I wish you would’ve called me.” 

Eddie encourages your head back, the two of you smiling at one another without worry. Eddie’s gonna write a list. You’re probably gonna sit in his lap while he does it. Things will be okay. 

Roan bumps down the stairs. “Mom, I have brought your pa-jamas.” 

“What about me?” Eddie asks. 

Roan shrugs. “I couldn’t reach them.” She hugs you around the thighs, your pyjama shirt slipping out of her hands. You can see now where she’s put her shirt on backwards, and lost a pony tail holder in the process of getting changed. 

“Wow, my big girl! You did it all by yourself!” 

She cuddles into your leg. “I know.” 

[angelsdean]

All these thoughts also prompted me to think abt what John and Mary's fights were often about, especially the fight where John leaves and Dean then comforts Mary. And I think a big part of it was Mary keeping secrets and sneaking around with regard to hunting.

We know she was still hunting in 1980, when she saves Asa Fox. Dean would've been a year old and the hunt is not local, it's up in Canada. Mary says she's been tracking this werewolf for a long time and that they have history. I do think when she says "a long time" she means years and that she hasn't actively been tracking it but it's been something on the back-burner that she's kept an eye on all these years. But that still means she left for a number of days at the very least, and I wonder what she told John. What excuse did she come up with to justify suddenly taking off when they have a baby at home. And no, I don't think she needed to be there as "the mom" to take care of Dean or that she can't spend time away from the home or that fathers are incapable of taking care of their children or anything like that. But I think John would certainly wonder what's taking her away from them so suddenly. What could possibly be so important. And with a hunt like this, I don't think she could've exactly given him a set time-frame for her return.

Now, imagine that happening multiple times. Imagine that happening again when Sam is just a few months old. She says she has to go visit her uncle who's poorly (father of the Campbell cousins. The uncle that paid for her headstone when she died). And then she's gone for longer than she anticipated. And John is just suspicious. And when she comes back they argue about it. "I know you're lying! Just tell me the truth, Mary! What, are you seeing someone else?" And Mary holding firm to her lies because her family cannot know about the supernatural and hunting. Because she doesn't want her kids growing up like she did. Because John is her suburban fairytale. He can't know. And then John snaps. He's pissed. He thinks she's cheating while he's working to provide for the family AND watching the kids in her absence. So he flings a "Is Sam even mine?" at her in his rage and she slaps him and tells him "Don't you dare" and then John storms out in a huff but then calls later to talk about it more and Mary shuts him down. "No, John. … We’re not having this conversation again... Think about what? … You’ve two boys at home. …"

I can imagine a version of this phone call going something like this:

John calls. Maybe apologizes for what he said, but mostly just wants her to be honest with him.

John: Please, Mary, can we just talk about this.

Mary: No, John.

John: I just want you to tell me the truth! What are you hiding? What's going on that you can't tell me?

Mary: We're not having this conversation again.

John: Oh okay, 'we're not having this conversation again.' Well then can you blame me for where my mind is going? What would you think, huh?

Mary: Think about what?

John: You know how it looks, Mary. And I just, I can't keep doing this--

Mary: You have two boys at home. (and ohh the delicious irony of that in the context of her being the one leaving to continue hunting in secret)

John, probably, since the convo seems to continue: Oh that is rich coming from you right now, Mary.

Anyways, this is only one of many many scenarios I can imagine of their fights. And it's perhaps a little too sympathetic to John, but! I enjoy thinking of John complexly, especially considering how Young John is presented in SPN, and also John in the opening scene of the Pilot seems like the easy-going family man, who definitely had underlying issues prior to Mary's death (thank you SPNWIN for confirming that) but clearly those issues got worse after Mary's death, and for the most part he wasn't yet the guy we see him become after he is transformed by grief and anger. Also s12 Mary's rose-tinted recollections of John being such a good father, which starkly contrast to Dean's later memories of John, I think it's not a huge leap to say John pre-Mary's death was a good father, and I think seeing Mary leave them (likely repeatedly) under secretive circumstances for days at a time would have bothered John back then and been a continuous point of contention in their marriage.

And again, this is all simply one angle of interpretation, theorizing, and headcanoning and by no means the only possible scenario.

[wildernessuntothemselves]

Heaven is not fit to house a love (like you and I) | Part 1

Word Count: 5.9k

Genre: smut, angst

Summary: When you first met your boyfriend, it was love at first sight. No, more than that. It was love before you even met. It felt like you had known each other in another life and were meant to find each other again. 

But that's not actually true, is it? You and Beomgyu don't actually know each other from another life, and the dreams you've been having aren't memories of your past life either. That's ridiculous. 

But then why does Beomgyu get so defensive about them? And why does each dream feel more real than the one before? 

A/N: this is the sequel to my series YAMQN but I'm trying to write it in a way that it would be comprehensible to people who have never read YAMQN. The parts in italic are the dreams. 

Warnings: fucking on furniture, orgasm control, premature ejaculation, masturbation, PIV sex, toxic relationships.

“Stay home” Beomgyu holds you from behind, kissing your neck

“We can’t. I’ve canceled on them too many times now.” You whine. Beomgyu keeps doing this. Every time you try to hang out with your friends he pouts and whines until you stay home with him. It was cute at first–how he couldn’t get enough of you–but now your friends are actually getting pissed at the both of you. 

“But I missed you.” You can feel his pout on your skin as his lips brush over it. 

“We hang out every day. We live together!” You protest, but you’re unable to keep the chuckle from your voice.

“I know but that’s not what I mean.” He mumbles cryptically and you turn your head towards him. “Then what do you mean?” 

He flushes and buries his face in the crook of your neck so you wouldn’t see him. “Never mind. It’s stupid”

You grab his long hair, gently lifting his head up so you can lock eyes with him. “No, tell me.”

He lets out a shaky sigh. “It’s just… you ever feel like you and someone else are two halves of the same soul and you’ve spent and will spend all your lifetimes trying to reunite with them and when you finally do, you just can’t bear to let go?”

You’re rendered speechless by his impassioned, if self-conscious, speech because it captured exactly what you’ve always felt about him but was too scared to say in case you scare him off. 

You met Beomgyu while at work at the coffee shop at the local mall around christmas time last year. You spotted this adorable guy in front of your store dressed in the most ridiculous teddy bear sweater you’ve ever seen, collecting donations to buy toys for the kids at the local shelters. You fell for him at first sight and wherever he’d show up, you’d spend your entire shift stealing glances at him to the point that even your coworkers noticed. You couldn’t get over how sweet what he was doing was and you so badly wanted to go up to him and tell him that but you didn’t want to come across as a weirdo. It was only after your coworkers’ incessant nagging that you finally mustered up the courage to go up to him, hot drink in hand, offering it to him and telling him how much you admired what he was doing and how cute he his sweater was. 

The conversation flowed much more easily than you could have ever anticipated–almost like you two were meant to be–and from then on it became your daily routine to bring him a cup of coffee during your break and have a chat with him until you were yelled at by your boss for taking too long. 

And when Christmas day was fast approaching and the both of you knew he wouldn’t be there much longer, a snarky comment from your boss finally brought the two of you together and forced you to get over your trepidation. 

“Oh, for fuck’s sake. She likes you. He likes you. She finishes her shift at 6. Come pick her up. She likes sunflowers.” 

And that is how you and Beomgyu started dating. 

“Well now I can't go.” You lament, and he smiles radiantly, victorious. 

God your friends are gonna be so mad.

But it’s hard to think about that when his lips are attached to your neck, sucking at your most sensitive spots as he grinds his dick into your ass. 

“You look so sexy in that dress.” He murmurs wantonly, groping your tits coarsely over said dress. 

“Careful or you’re gonna blow your load on my ass.” You tease, referring to the first time you two got intimate. He was so excited then that he ended up cumming just from a little grinding. He’s lucky he’s so cute and that you found his enthusiasm endearing because if any other guy had cum so prematurely like that, you would’ve probably kicked his ass out the door. But also he ended up eating you out for the rest of the night until your legs turned into jelly to make it up to you, so it wasn’t too bad. 

Beomgyu pulls your dress down over your tits so he can play with them directly as he sucks on the skin of your neck, and you can feel your arousal begin to build up between your legs. 

"Beomgyu…" 

"My sensitive baby." He chuckles, index fingers flicking your nipples. You squeeze your thighs together in need and push your ass back against his cock pointedly. "Fuck me, Beomgyu."

It doesn’t take much prompting to get Beomgyu to give in. He has always been needy for you and today was no different. He pushes you against the table, flipping the skirt of your dress up and pulling your underwear out of the way before he pushes himself inside you, filling you up so perfectly as if he was made for you. 

“Oh, Beomgyu…” You gasp, clawing at the wooden surface of the table. This is hardly new to you. Beomgyu has fucked you on every surface of this house, many times. He's insatiable. He just can't get enough of you, and neither you him. 

“Baby, I don’t think I will last long.” He grunts into your ear and you chuckle breathlessly. “Of course not. You never could resist my pussy, huh?”

“No.” He shakes his head, driving his cock into you harshly. 

“Then cum. Show me how much you need me.” 

“Fuck, I do. I do, baby.” He groans, pressing his hips flush against your ass as he empties his seed inside of you. 

“Well, that was quick.” You giggle when he catches his breath and he whines, flipping you over on your back and pulling your thighs up against your body. You know what’s coming next. Beomgyu can never leave you unsatisfied and when he finishes too early like this he usually makes it up to you by giving you the best oral of your life. 

But when he sees his cum dripping out of your swollen pussy, he stops and stares, almost hypnotized by the sight, and a far away look takes over his face. 

"What?" You ask, pulling him out of his thoughts. "Nothing."

“Do you like seeing me dripping with your seed? Are you thinking of knocking me up?” You tease, and his head snaps up to look at you at a neck-breaking speed, a horrified look on his face. 

Fuck, did you read the situation wrong? Why did you say that? You don’t know why you said that!

Actually you do. You had another one of your dreams today–the ones where Beomgyu is a prince and you’re a lady at court and you’re in love. Beomgyu doesn’t like hearing about them much. He calls them silly and always brushes them off, not wanting to hear about them. But his lack of enthusiasm doesn’t stop you from having them, and each one feels more real than the other, as if it had actually happened. As if you were recalling memories of a previous life. And the latest dream was no different. 

"Our children are not going to want for anything.” Dream Beomgyu says, hand splayed protectively over your tummy. 

“What?” Real-life Beomgyu sputters, and you explain yourself shyly, sitting up and covering yourself as you chuckle nervously. “I just… I had a dream that I was pregnant with your baby. You know, when you were a prince…” 

But Beomgyu doesn’t share your laughter. His face immediately hardens and his reaction this time surpasses mere distaste and veers into anger.. “I was never a prince. None of your dreams ever happened. They’re just meaningless dreams. Don’t be stupid.” 

"Stupid?" You draw back at the sudden outburst. 

"Yes. The whole prince thing is stupid. You need to get out of your head and come back to reality. The whimsical, superstitious act is not cute anymore." He snaps, far too much vitriol in his voice for such a silly topic.

"Why are you being such an ass? Would it hurt you to just listen and laugh with me? Or is the idea of us having a baby together so appalling to you?" You don’t know why you’re going so hard to defend your dreams or why he feels the need to tear them down, but you can’t ignore the sudden shift after he heard you mention the possibility of having a child together, and his answering laugh cuts you deep.

"You don't know anything." Beomgyu says, getting cryptic like he always gets whenever you talk about your dreams. Usually you’d let it go, but not this time. Not when he was so disgusted with the idea of having a child with you.  

"Don't know what?" You ask, frustrated. “That you find the thought of having a child with me so appalling?”

"I don't want to talk about this right now."

Of course, he never wants to talk about it. He always runs away whenever the topic of discussion gets too serious for his liking. For a guy who is so self-proclaimed obsessed with you, he sure does work hard to avoid these meaningful talks. Well, if he wants to avoid it so bad then you’ll make it easy for him. 

"Fine." You hop off the table and go to the bathroom to clean yourself up and change your underwear before going back out, intending to leave the apartment to get some fresh air and most importantly, to get away from Beomgyu. 

But Beomgyu has other ideas, following you at every step like a second shadow, and when he sees you going for the door, he steps in between you and it. "Where are you going?"

"Out."

"I'm coming with you." He states decidedly and you can’t keep the snort out of your mouth. He always does this. He always makes decisions for you. Well, not this time. "No. I need space." 

But he shakes his head firmly. "You're angry. I don't want to let you go angry."

Beomgyu always hated parting from you on bad terms. He always needed to make sure everything was okay before he let you out of his sight. It was sweet at first. You might’ve even considered it healthy at some point, but right now it’s driving you up the wall. Arguments can't always be resolved on the spot, especially when one party refuses to even talk, and so forcing you to be together just ends up with you lashing out because you can't blow off steam. 

But Beomgyu doesn’t care. He just doesn't want you out of his sight. 

"Beomgyu, for fuck's sake, get out of my way. I don’t want to be around you right now." 

"You know I can't let you go angry." He reiterates as if that is a necessity you had to cave to. 

"You're going to have to learn to. If you won’t talk to me then you have to at least give me some space.”

“I can’t.”

“You have to.” You shout, angry and fed up with him. “I don't know what the fuck happened to you in the past to traumatize you like this, because god knows you refuse to tell me, but I can’t coddle you about it anymore. I need to take a breather and I don’t care if you–”

"I lost a baby before." He utters softly but it was deafening to you. 

"What?" 

“Me and my ex, we had a baby on the way but I lost both of them. That’s why the idea of having a baby freaks me out so much. I can’t handle losing another one. I can’t handle losing you.… it’s just–it’s–” He starts tearing and stuttering his words, looking distraught as he attempts to explain himself to you, and you feel absolutely wretched for doubting him. You’re such a fucking bitch for forcing him to reveal this to you, but you’re also selfishly glad he did. Even this tiny sliver of his past is much needed context to explain the man you love so dearly. 

“I—I don’t know what to say.” You pathetically utter after an exorbitant amount of time, never having expected such a revelation. “I’m so fucking sorry.”

You take him into your arms and he sobs against you, holding onto you tightly. "I want to have a child with you. Nothing would make me happier. You have no idea. But I'm just too scared." 

“It’s okay, baby. I don’t want to have a child right now. We can talk about it again in the future. We’ll work it out together, okay?” You pull back slightly–not stepping out of his tight embrace, not that he would’ve let you–and take his face into your hands, wiping his tears off. 

He nods pitifully. “Okay.” 

You should’ve left it at that. He’s in a bad state. You should be comforting him right now, but you’re selfish and this might be the only time he’ll open up to you, and now you have to know. 

"Did… did you love her?" 

"With all my heart." He doesn’t hesitate in answering and you feel a pang of jealousy towards his deceased lover. How fucked up, is that? "More than me?"

He is quiet for a while and every second that passes in silence tears your heart apart. 

"There is no one I love more than you." He finally says and you let out a sigh of relief that was entirely too obvious. 

“Oh god, I’m so sorry. I’m being such a bitch. I’m jealous of a dead girl, how crazy is that?” You ramble nervously, but Beomgyu stops you with a kiss. 

“That’s okay, baby. I know you don’t mean it like that.” He reassures you and you sigh in relief once more. He never judges you for the messed up thoughts you sometimes get. He always understands and emphasizes and that’s part of the reason why you love him so much. 

Still you keep the rest of your questions about her to yourself. It must be a sore subject for him given how he was so protective of it before. The only thing you need to know right now is that you’re the love of his life, not her, not anyone else. You.

____________________

“He’s not trying to keep me away from you. He’s just really clingy. No, he’s not manipulating me–” Your heated defense of your boyfriend is cut off when you spot said boyfriend standing in the doorway of the kitchen where you had been taking your friend’s call so he wouldn’t overhear it. Well, so much for that.

“Oh shit, I'll call you back.” You mutter to your friend and end the call, cutting off the protests on the other line. 

“Was that Yunjin?” He asks and you nod guiltily. Yunjin doesn’t like Beomgyu. She made that very clear to the point that despite you not telling him, he knows it well. 

“She’s just being Yunjin. Don’t mind her.” You try to smooth things over but he shakes his head. “No, it’s my fault. I’m not helping things by keeping you all to myself. It’s just because I love being with you so much, you know that right?”

“I know, baby.” You walk towards him, wrapping your arms around his neck. “I love spending time with you too–hey, here’s an idea. Why don’t you come along? It would be killing two birds with one stone, hanging out with my friends while still being with you. And it’s been so long since they’ve last seen you. I’m sure once they get a look at your cute face, they’d forget all their reservations.” 

You laugh, but Beomgyu looks nervous. “I don’t know. They don’t really like me anymore.” 

“Because they don’t see much of you and you’re taking over all my attention. If they see more of you, they’d fall in love with you all over again.” 

“Are you sure?” 

“I’m sure. You’re irresistible, puppy.” 

_________________________________________

And just like you said, things go well. After your friends get over the initial annoyance that you brought Beomgyu along, they start warming up to him once the conversation starts flowing and Beomgyu’s radiant personality shines through. You’ve even caught Yunjin crack a smile or two at his antics. 

But all your high hopes come crashing down when another person joins your party. The stranger’s name is Taehyun, and he’s apparently the new roommate of one of your friends, which is fine enough, he seems like a nice guy and you’ve always welcomed new additions to your group. 

Beomgyu on the other hand, must feel differently, because as soon as Taehyun joins you, his whole demeanor shifts and he becomes closed off and snappy, getting mean with his comments that were all seemingly directed at the newcomer. It was starting to ruin the mood, making your friends mad again, and so when he makes yet another snarky remark to something Taehyun innocuously said, you have to pull him aside and ask him what his problem is. 

“What the fuck are you doing, Beomgyu? My friends were just starting to warm up to you again. Why are you being such a dick?” 

“I want to go home. I don’t feel very good.” He lies, and you know it’s a lie because he doesn’t sell it very well, glaring daggers at the table where your friends are seated.

“Then go home.” You snap, having little remaining patience for his behavior. 

He gives you a look of betrayal. “You know I can’t leave without you.” 

“You’re going to have to if you can’t act like a fucking adult. The reason I invited you is because I wanted to help smooth things over between you and my friends. I wanted to prove to them that you’re not the manipulative asshole they think you are, but honestly the way you’re acting right now, makes me wonder if maybe they are right and–”

“No they’re not.” He cuts you off, lips tightly pressed together. “Fine, we'll stay.” 

“Beomgyu…” You eye him with doubt but he insists. “I’m fine. Let's go.” 

He drags you back to the table and you stop your protests so your friends can’t hear it. 

Beomgyu is quiet for a while, which doesn’t make for pleasant company, but at least he’s not being an asshole. Well, not for a bit anyway. Because once Taehyun mentions he’s looking for a job and you tell him that your place of work is hiring, Beomgyu starts acting up again.  

“I’m sure he doesn’t want to work as a barista, honey.” Beomgyu speaks over you, but Taehyun rebuts him. “I do. The hours sound good for a student like me and the work doesn’t sound too hard. It’s perfect.”

Once again, Beomgyu speaks instead of you. “But you seem like an intelligent guy. Surely serving coffee to other people would be embarrassing for you.”

“What the hell, Beomgyu?” You hiss, mortified at his implication, and in front of all your friends too. Is that what he really thinks? Does he think your job is embarrassing?

“I just mean that he could be doing something else.” 

“And what does that make me? A loser who isn’t good for anything except serving people coffee, a job you apparently think is humiliating for someone intelligent to have?” 

“You’re overthinking it, baby. I didn’t mean–”

“Oh, I didn’t think my dumb brain was capable of overthinking.” You laugh tearfully, and stand up before your friends could see you cry. “Excuse me.” 

You storm out of the restaurant and Beomgyu follows after you. 

“Baby!” 

You whip around and scream at him. “If you think what I do is so demeaning then why are you even with me?”

“I don’t think that.” He denies vehemently, “I just didn’t want him to work with you. I got bad vibes from that dude.” 

"Not this again.” You groan. Of course this is why he was behaving in such a bizarre and rude manner. Beomgyu is a jealous guy. You tried reassuring him a million times that he’s the only guy for you but to no avail. He gets paranoid and thinks every guy you interact with will steal you away from him, and here he is doing it again. “Are you seriously fucking jealous of a guy I don’t even know?"

“I am not jealous.” He tries to deny, badly. “I told you I got bad vibes from him.”

“Bad vibes?” You laugh hysterically. “If bad vibes are all it takes then I would’ve broken up with you long ago because all my friends got bad vibes from you.” 

He rolls his eyes. “Your friends hate me. They’ll say anything to tear us apart. I bet they even invited that guy just to piss me off.” 

"Oh my god, are you listening to yourself? You’re so–ugh, just please leave me alone, Beomgyu." You try to walk away from him but he quickly reaches out and grabs you by the arm, turning you around to face him, freaked out. "No, please stay."

"Let me go, Beomgyu." You demand, your anger bubbling to dangerous level but Beomgyu stand firm. “No. You can’t leave me.”

“Let me go.” 

“No.” 

“I’m serious, Beomgyu. Leave me the fuck alone.” 

“No.”

You can’t help it. He’s driving you insane, and you can’t hold back anymore. You slap him. 

But you immediately regret it when you see the red mark beginning to bloom across his cheek. 

"Oh god, I'm so sorry. You just drive me–" He kisses you passionately, holding onto you even tighter. 

"Do anything you want to me, I don’t mind. Just don't leave me." He breathes against your lips, eyes looking crazed in their desperation. 

God, this is sick. You shouldn’t entertain this kind of twisted trade-off. You should push him away and demand he leave you be. You shouldn’t take him up on his offer to let you unload your frustrations physically onto him. Maybe you should even end it…

But you can’t. You’re as invested in this as he is. You don’t want to break up with him. You don’t want to leave him. You just want to punish him for the crazy way he’s behaving. You want to feel like you’re not letting him get away with this without actually having to break up with him .

And so you accept his sick offer.

_______________________________

"You're so pathetic, Beomgyu." 

He shudders at your words, and you don’t know if he likes it or hates it. All you know is he tries to reach out to you but his hands are held back by the bindings you’ve fashioned out of your scarves. 

He cries out for you but you have no mercy for him. This is the punishment he chose for himself and you’ll be damned if you don’t make the most of it. 

“You’ve really pissed me off this time, Beomgyu. Acted so crazy just so I wouldn’t leave you. Well, now you get to sit back and watch me fuck myself and you can do nothing about it.” You taunt him as you ride the dildo you have strapped around his abdomen, his own cock brushing up against your ass every time you move, getting enough stimulation to keep him hard but not nearly enough to get him off. 

"Please, sit on my cock. It feels better than that plastic toy. I'm all hard and ready for you. Ride me, please. Cum on my dick. Use me instead of that toy." He babbles, but you don’t listen. 

You want to make him suffer, and you’re scared to dwell too long on where that emotion comes from. You love your boyfriend. You’ve never wanted to hurt him before, but he really pushed you too far this time. 

"You did this. You’re making me do this to you. You’re being a terrible boyfriend." 

"No, don’t say that.” He shakes his head vehemently, getting teary. “I'm sorry. I’ll do anything to make it better. Whatever you want." 

"Will you let him work with me?" You hazard to ask and his face immediately transforms. "No." 

You scoff–so much for being apologetic–and ride the dildo faster, moaning out loud just to piss him off. You see him struggling and feel him trying to buck his hips against you but he can’t accomplish much more than his cock just grazing your ass. 

Still, you can feel the wetness from the precum touching your skin. “You’re fucking ridiculous.” 

“You just don’t know what you are to me.” He counters, leaving you speechless. One thing about Beomgyu is that he will never fail to tell you just how much you mean to him. It’s why you’ve always been so weak when it comes to him. 

But that doesn’t mean you can’t punish him for his behavior. “Clearly not much if you don’t even trust me to work with him.” 

“You don’t know.” He insists, but doesn’t deny your claim which pisses you off even more. 

“Don’t know what? That you think I’ll cheat on you if given the slightest chance? Is that something she did to you? Is that why you’re so fucked up?”

His silence is all you need to know, and you don’t know if you should feel bad for him that the woman he loved so much cheated on him, or angry that he assumes you would do the same just because she did. 

“Fuck you, Beomgyu.” The two emotions mix together and fuel you further, and you put your hand between your legs to touch yourself, getting yourself off if only just to spite him, knowing how much he needs to always be the cause of your pleasure. 

“Baby, please.” He begs, seeing you inch closer to your end, and it’s killing him that he’s not the reason for it. Little does he know that his desperation and blinding need for you is the greatest contributor to your impending fall over the edge. 

But you don’t let him know that, jumping erratically on the dildo and attacking your poor clit with your fingers, sending yourself off on the most emotionally exhausting orgasm of your life. 

“Baby…” You can hear him whimper pitifully in the background, his shape blurry in front of you as you fight off your own tears. “Baby…”

“What is it?” You hiss after your orgasm passes, anger finally overpowering the lust. “Do you want to cum? Is that what you’re concerned about? Your dick?”

“That’s not it.” He tries to deny it but you’re already untying him. And despite his denial, as soon as his hands are free, he tries to reach out to grab you but you take his hands and forcefully pull them off your body. He tries to fight you but you hiss sharply at him, "Stay." 

He whimpers but listens, and when he looks like he won’t go back on his words, you let go of his hands. "Touch yourself."

"I want you to touch me." He whines and you slap his thigh. "You don't get to make demands. Not after the way you behaved in front of my friends. You embarrassed me!"

"I'm sorry." He mewls, one hand going to his dick and the other playing with his nipples, putting on a show for you, needing to gain your favor once again. Which is precisely why you lean over him to grab your phone from the night stand and unlock it, pretending to be scrolling through it as he jerks off. 

“Baby!” He protests heatedly, reaching out to touch you. Beomgyu fucking hates it when you don’t give him any attention. He withers without it.  

“Did I say you could touch me?” You seethe, not bothering to take his hands off this time, opting instead to intimidate him into it, and thankfully he retracts his hands at your tone as if it had burned him. 

“Keep jerking off.” You instruct, and as soon as he does, you go back to looking at your phone. 

"Look at me." He whines, but doesn’t stop this time. You can hear the wet sounds of his hand moving over his cock and see the movement out of the corner of your eyes.

“Please.” 

You ignore him. 

“Just look at me.” 

You keep looking at your phone. 

"Princess…."

You snap your head up, narrowing your eyes at him. He never called you that. In fact, he almost makes it a point not to call you that so he wouldn’t “feed into your prince delusion”. So for him to say that right now was really low. Not that Beomgyu cared, as long as he had your attention. 

"Yeah, yeah, that's it." He moans, thrusting into his fist.

Maybe it's sick. Maybe you're enabling his behavior but god, was it so sexy to have him so completely obsessed with you that just your gaze is enough to get him off. 

“Is this what you want, Beomgyu? For me to look at you and see how you’re such a pathetic slut that you can’t even get off without me giving you my attention?” 

Beomgyu doesn’t even try to deny it, nodding enthusiastically. “Yes. Never want you to look away from me. I missed you so much.” He hiccups, thrusting up into his tight fist. 

Here he goes again, talking about how much he misses you. You’re sure if you spend every single second of your life with him he’d still complain about missing you. You can’t call him out too much on it though–not when you feel the same, not when you thrive on it. 

“Can I cum?” Beomgyu asks breathlessly and you sneer down at him. “No.” 

He lets out a heart-broken moan, hand clenching at your thigh. “No. Please. Need to cum.”

"You don't deserve it. Stop." You say cooly, and he wails. "Please. I need to cum. I can’t–I can’t.”

His voice gets high and breathy, strung out, but you don’t care. No, you relish in it, knowing what you’ll make him do next. "Stop."

He cries out, shaking his head violently, not stopping. "No. No. I need it."

You can see how close he is. You can see his cock flushing red, his balls tightening and his precum pouring out of his head. You have to put a stop to it, physically removing his hands yourself, but as soon as you touch him he loses it, staining your belly with his cum. 

"Ah--ah--oh god–please touch me–please." He bucks his hips in the air, unable to reach you, and cries, tears pouring down his face. "I love you. I love you. Please use me. Please don't leave me.” 

You've never been this rough with Beomgyu and for a second you wonder if you're going too far, but he looks so fucked out by the way you’re being mean to him that you can’t back down now.

Still he is your sweetheart. He’ll always be your sweetheart and you can’t bear to see him in such distress, even if he brought it onto himself with his jealous and obsessive ways.

"Hush, Beomgyu." You murmur, grabbing his dick and jerking him off. He gasps from the overstimulation, his hooded eyes blowing wide as he grabs onto the sheets, but he doesn’t stop you, thrusting his hips up into your grip instead. 

"Ah–oh fuck–AHH–" 

"Cum for me, Beomgyu." Your hand blurs over his cock, wet slapping sounds filling the room as your fist collides with his balls on each downstroke. 

"Yes–princess–all for you." If you didn’t know any better, you would’ve found the sound of him calling you ‘princess’ the most natural thing in the world. As if he had always done it. As if he truly believes it. 

But it’s all just to get you to give him what he wants, and sadly, it works. You’re as weak for him as he is for you. It’s unhealthy–is what your friends have told you after his charms have worn off in their eyes, but you fear it would never wear off for you. You’re absolutely, sickeningly in love with him and that’s why you’ll always make excuses to let him do the crazy things he does to you and for you. 

And the things you do to him. 

Beomgyu looks spent after his orgasm and he tries to pull you down in his arms to cuddle, but you stop him. 

"Wait a second." You say, grabbing a few tissues and wiping yourselves off. 

His hold on you remains so tight you feel his heart beat furiously against your chest. "I'm sorry for what I’ve said. I just don't want you to work with him."

You look up at him, mind a little clearer now that you’re all wrapped up in his warmth, feeling safe in his embrace. 

"I will work with him. You need to get over your jealousy. I've had enough." You inform him simply. Yes, you’ve done nothing but entertain his delusions so far, but it’s high time for you to starting actually doing something about it. You know you’ll only be ruining yourself later if you don’t. Who knows what he’ll demand next if you let this go. For you to not talk to other men? To stop seeing your friends who are trying to tear you apart? To quit your job so you’d always be around him? No, you have to put your foot down now. 

Beomgyu looks so pissed off at what you’ve said, but he doesn’t say anything. He just holds you tightly, burying his face in your neck and gripping onto you so hard, you’re sure his fingers will leave marks. That’s fine. You’ll just wear something to cover the bruises. Just as long as you make this work. 

________________________________________

That night, you have another dream about prince Beomgyu, but this time a new character makes an appearance, and that is Lord Taehyun. 

"What are you doing here?" Dream Beomgyu bursts into your room, finding you and Taehyun together. 

"I came to visit the lady." Taehyun’s demeanor appears relaxed but you can see the tension around the edges of his mouth.

"Beomgyu, relax–" You try to calm him down, and he turns on you. "How long has he been here? Did he do anything to you?" 

“No, we just talked!” You snap, trying to yank your hand back from him but his grip is bruisingly-tight.“How did he get in?” 

“That’s none of your business.” You refuse to tell him but that just sets him off.

“You are my business.” He shouts, making Taehyun get up, “Let her go. You’re hurting her.” 

“Fuck you.” Beomgyu was becoming aggressive, and Taehyun looked quite on edge himself. You knew you had to be the one to de-escalate this situation before it exploded so you step closer to Beomgyu and hiss in his ear. “Get a grip, Beomgyu.” You hiss lowly at him then turn to Taehyun with an apologetic look. “I’m sorry, Taehyun. I need to talk to Beomgyu privately.” 

The dream ends there, and when you wake up in the morning, you make no mention of it to Beomgyu.

_____________________

A/N: Well its' finally here folks. Don't know how many chapter this will be but I hope you like it anyway.

[thewintersoldierdisaster]

a/n: this one actively broke my heart while writing it and i hope i did the topic justice. title came from a song on @pyotrkochetkov ‘s barzy playlist and i just knew i had to write something angsty for it. a bunch more happy and smutty long fics and headcanons are coming! seriously, let me know what you thought of this one - much heavier and angstier than i usually write 😬 ignore any inconsistencies, i’m not an expert on this particular medical procedure or professional hockey team travel

word count: 7k

tw: miscarriage, subsequent emotions

summary: on a mini trip to vancouver to watch andrei play, you suffer the worst loss of your life. andrei is your rock throughout the ordeal

Vancouver is a fun city - maybe not as fun as Raleigh or New York, but fun nevertheless - and you’re excited that part of the Canes’ Western road trip fell close to Thanksgiving weekend so you could join in for a bit of it without having to miss too much time at work. Part of your goal this season, your first married to Andrei, is to see him play in every arena. You’ve managed a few of the east coast arenas so far, but this is your first time out west. Nykki joined you too, so it’s like a mini-girls’ trip rolled into a ‘supporting our men’ trip.

The team’s there before you and Nykki get to Vancouver, having already played in Seattle two days before. It’s actually been slightly more than a week since you’ve seen Andrei in person and you miss him a lot. You’ve been with him for four years now, so you’re used to the travel and not seeing him for chunks of time, but this week feels extra hard. Luckily, after this little West Coast swing, Andrei will be home for a good chunk of time - the quirks of the NHL schedule are always insane to you.

You and Nykki get dinner before the game, discussing her wedding plans. It’s scheduled for early August, but time is already flying. You’re a bridesmaid, but you’ve been pushing off picking a dress, knowing that it’s not going to fit you by the time the wedding happens. Your fingers curl carefully against your stomach, hidden by the table and the bulk of your sweater, your little secret.

Butterflies roll in your stomach, excitement mingling with nerves, knowing that you’re going to tell Andrei the news after the game tonight. It’s so early in your marriage, and you’re definitely freaking out a little bit, but the idea of a little baby that looks like Andrei is enough to help the excitement win out.

“Martin wants to do Bali for the honeymoon,” Nykki tells you while you find your way to your seats. You bought tickets for the lower bowl, wanting to be in the middle of the crowd and all the excitement. The Canucks fans are already a little rowdy, with warmups halfway over. There’s a few Canes jerseys smattered through the crowd, but it’s certainly an uneven match.

You sip at your overly large Coke, your stomach turning a little. Dinner isn’t sitting right with you, but it’s manageable for now. “Bali’s nice, I mean, so I’ve heard. But what’s the weather like in August?”

Nykki points at you, her other fingers wrapped around her beer can. “That’s what I said! I thought it would be unbearably hot and humid, but apparently it’s gorgeous - 86 and barely any rain,” she grins. “I promised he could be in charge of the honeymoon, so I think we’re going to Bali.”

“Well,” you smirk back, “there are worse places to spend two weeks with your gorgeous NHL player husband, Nyk.”

She laughs and takes a sip of her beer, eyes twinkling. “You have a point there. How about you and Andrei? What are the big summer vacation plans?”

You pause, thinking of an answer because you’re anticipating having a newborn this summer, so a vacation isn’t likely to happen. Andrei’s been floating the idea of a mini European tour - hitting Rome and Paris for a few days each before heading to Russia for a little bit to visit family. But you haven’t really committed to plans since it’s only November and you have plenty of time. “We haven’t really talked about it,” you answer Nykki truthfully. “Drei’s been focused on the season and I’ve been busy with work. He doesn’t like to plan anything before the end of the regular season anyway.”

“Superstition,” Nykki sing-songs, putting her beer in the cup holder as she stands for the anthems. You get to your feet, pulling off your baseball hat and holding it over your heart, humming along with both anthems. You shift your weight from foot to foot, stretching out your lower back a little.

The puck drops and the game starts - Andrei’s almost immediately put in the penalty box, complaining and shouting at the ref the entire time he skates over. His hands fly in the air as he gestures, but his passion isn’t moving the ref at all and he takes his seat in the box, slumping down. You laugh, shaking your head affectionately. He’s a sweetheart off-ice, but on the ice, Andrei is a borderline criminal. He’s leading the team in penalty minutes and you’ve definitely heard plenty about how he doesn’t deserve it.

The game clock ticks down, Andrei’s released from the box and immediately scores on a breakaway. You and Nykki jump from your seats, screaming and cheering with the Canes up one to nothing. The Vancouver fans around you glare and chirp, but you and Nykki just laugh, giving back as good as you get.

It’s pure fun to be supporting the visiting team and you and Nykki thoroughly enjoy yourselves, dancing to the music and gossiping during TV timeouts and slower moments. Nykki gets another beer and you refill your soda, your stomach still acting up. The popcorn Nykki gets is too salty and you end up joining the crowd when they start throwing their own snacks at the refs. It’s a penalty called on the Canucks, which is good news for you, but the crowds enthusiasm is infectious.

The fans of the Canadian teams are definitely a little more intense and vocal with their displeasure with the refs, you’ve noticed. A particularly obscene chant breaks out when Brady dances around one of the Canucks’ defensemen to set up a powerplay goal for Brent Burns.

You and Nykki throw your arms up and cheer, screaming yourselves silly. Your stomach cramps a little and it puts a damper on the celebration and also serves as a reminder that you really need to see a GI doctor to determine if you’re actually lactose intolerant or if you have a gluten allergy. You grimace and sit back down, clenching your stomach a little, which seems to help. The rest of the second period flies by and the boys are up two to one.

The people around you start to shuffle off to get more food or go to the bathroom, now that the second intermission has started. You finish the rest of your soda and shift in your seat. Nykki looks over at you curiously. “You okay? You seem like you’re kind of uncomfortable,” she says, twisting her hair back into a ponytail.

“I’m fine,” you hum. “My back is killing me though. I must’ve tweaked it on the flight over.”

“You want an Advil?” Nykki’s already shaking around her purse and you can hear things rattling around.

“Let me go refill my drink, pee, and then yeah, I’ll take an Advil,” you reply, holding the reusable cup to your chest and getting out of your seat. Nykki pulls her knees to the side and you scoot past her, stopping when she makes a little noise. “What?”

“Babe, I think you need a tampon too,” she whispers, gesturing to the back of your jeans.

Your eyebrows draw together. You’re not getting your period anymore. “Tamp-?” The word catches in your throat and your eyes go wide. Your mind spins as the pieces start clicking into place and, as if to serve as the final kick in the ass sign, your lower stomach twists unpleasantly with a sharp cramp. Tears fill your eyes and you reach down to grab Nykki’s hand. “Um, surprise, I’m pregnant, but maybe see should go to the hospital or an urgent care?”

Half a dozen emotions cross Nykki’s face before it settles on shock, but all you can focus on now is the persistent cramping in your stomach. The cramping that’s been bothering you all day and you ignored, thinking nothing of it. God, you’re a terrible mother already.

“Okay, okay,” Nykki jumps to her feet, squeezing your fingers and dragging you out of the row and up the stairs to the main concourse. Her other hand is gripping her phone tightly and she’s jabbing at it with her thumb. “I’m calling an Uber. The hospital is like a ten minute drive.”

You nod, feeling numb as Nykki drags you along, your feet stumbling to keep up as you dart around the people waiting in lines for the bathroom and for food. How could your whole night - your whole life - have just taken a complete one-eighty in the matter of minutes. The cold Vancouver air hits your face like a slap, shocking some feeling back into your body. You wish it hadn’t.

The cramping is worse, the feeling between your legs - blood - like free bleeding during your period, but worse, so much worse.

Your stomach lurches and you rip your hand from Nykki’s grasp, bending at the waist and vomiting into a bush next to the entrance to the arena. “Oh, it’s going to be okay. Let it out,” Nykki’s voice is soothing and she rubs a hand in between your shoulder blades while your stomach seizes and you vomit again, spitting into the dirt.

Tears streak down your cheeks and your throat burns now. “I want Andrei,” you whisper, heart clenching with grief.

“Let’s get you to the hospital,” Nykki guides you towards the rideshare pick-up area, where a four-door sedan is already waiting. “I’ll get a hold of him somehow, but let’s take care of you first, okay?”

You let her bundle you into the backseat of the car and swallow back your tears, pressing the heels of your palms into your eyes hard enough to see starbursts. Forcing yourself to take a deep breath, you try to calm down, you don’t know what’s happening for sure. Even though it feels very much like the end of something, you have to find a little piece of hope to keep yourself sane. The driver catches your eye in the rear view mirror as he pulls out of the arena parking lot, his mouth twisted down in a concerned frown even as his eyes are slightly judgmental. He’s driving you from a hockey game to a hospital - god knows what he’s thinking about you.

Nykki squeezes your knee and smiles gently at you, even as she’s typing on her phone with her other hand. “It’s still intermission, no one’s going to have their phone on them, but I’m trying to see if I can get through to one of the trainers or something. Just stay calm and we’ll figure it out,” she’s no-nonsense and you’re so grateful for her taking control of the situation.

Your lower back complains as the driver hits a pothole and another leak of fluid rushes between your legs. The drive is too long and too short all at once and before you know it, you’re being admitted to the Vancouver General Hospital emergency room and deposited on a bed, a curtain drawn around you. A nurse with warm, sympathetic eyes and a kind smile does your intake, her lips twisting to to side as you’re answering her questions.

“I just found out a few days ago,” you whisper, starting your fingers together. “I haven’t even told my husband.”

“Mrs. Svechnikov,” the nurse pats your arm comfortingly, “we really don’t know anything for sure until we get an ultrasound. Try not to put added stress on your body.”

You don’t even bother correcting her about your last name, the Russian name sounding strange in her Canadian accent. Nykki comes behind the curtain, clutching her phone. “There’s about ten minutes left in the third,” she says. “I can’t get ahold of anyone, but I’ll keep trying.”

“We’re going to get an OB down here and check everything out, okay?” The nurse says kindly, but brusquely, and then disappears back into the main emergency room. You roll your neck so your cheek is resting on your shoulder and a few tears leak out of your eyes.

“You didn’t leave any messages or anything for Andrei, right?” You ask. “I don’t want him to see and freak out.”

Nykki brushes your hair off your forehead and shakes her head. “No, I left a few messages for Martin to call me as soon as he could. I figure I’ll get to Andrei that way. Do you need anything?”

“Just Andrei,” you hiccup a sob, pressing a shaking hand to your mouth. Your other hand hovers over your stomach, afraid to touch it. The bleeding hasn’t stopped, so despite what the nurse said, you know it’s a miscarriage. Your stomach rolls and you press your lips together tightly so you don’t vomit.

“I’ll get him here as fast as I can,” Nykki reassures you. While you wait for the OB, she absently braids your hair back from your face, tying it off in an efficient, utilitarian French braid down your back. She talks as she works, trying to distract you, and you’re grateful for her efforts even if they don’t work. All you can think about is the little life that had been growing in you just a few hours ago. Your heart lurches painfully when you realize Andrei’s going to find out about the pregnancy and the loss all at once.

The OB is a middle-aged Black woman with a slight Canadian accent who introduces herself as Doctor Hayes and she doesn’t sugarcoat the news, which you appreciate. “I’m very sorry, Mrs. Svechnikov,” she sighs, looking very much like she hates this part of her job. “But you are actively miscarrying right now. We’re going to admit you overnight for monitoring and will reevaluate in the morning.”

Your entire body goes cold at her words and you grip Nykki’s hand - you hadn’t let her leave your side, terrified to be alone. A cramp rips through your lower body and you bite your lip hard enough to draw blood. “What-“ your voice is hoarse and you clear your throat, trying again, “what, um, are the next steps?”

Doctor Hayes rests her hands on the guard railing on your bed. “Well, we’ll have you on a hydration IV throughout the night while we monitor the miscarriage. There may be a need for a D and C, to make sure it’s complete and there’s no tissue left behind.” Your face blanches as she talks. “But all of that will depend on what happens tonight.”

“Thank you,” you murmur and she pats your hand gently, sympathetically, as she leaves. You can hear her giving the nurse instructions and you slump back against the pillows, completely drained.

Nykki checks her Apple Watch and grimaces. “It’s Martin. I’ll be right back, okay?”

“Be gentle with Andrei, okay?” You reply, desperately wanting him at your side, but also wanting to protect him from this heartbreak a little longer.

She’s back in a few minutes, after the nurse has started you on an IV. “Martin’s going to bring him over,” she says, sitting carefully on the edge of the bed. “I didn’t tell him why you were here, just that you started to not feel well during the second,” she says. “It sounded like Andrei was halfway out the door before Martin could finish his sentence.”

You nod faintly. That sounds like Andrei. “I hope they don’t get slammed by Rod for leaving…” You twist your wedding rings around your finger, the diamonds catching the fluorescent lighting.

“They won’t,” Nykki says firmly. “He’d have to be a real bastard to punish Andrei for coming to the hospital for you. Besides, someone should’ve been available to get Andrei here earlier! It’s ridiculous.”

“Let him have an extra hour of normalcy,” you sigh, shifting on the bed, sore and uncomfortable.

You’re moved into a private room and given a hospital gown that bares your entire back and ass. A giant pad that’s probably as big as a damn puppy pee pad is wedged in between your legs to contain the bleeding and the IV is tugging unpleasantly at your skin. Nykki’s waiting downstairs to bring Andrei directly to you and you hope he’s here soon because now that you’re alone, the reality of the situation is sinking in and your chest is starting to feel tight. You turn your head and try to bury your face in the pillow, but you catch a whiff of the lingering Tom Ford Lost Cherry perfume you’d applied earlier mixed with antiseptic and sterile hospital smell and your brain briefly registers that it’s a shame, because you really love this perfume and now you’ll never be able to wear it again. Your heart thumps painfully in your chest, a reminder that you’re losing more and more of your baby with each passing second.

You hear him before you see him, the pounding of his footsteps echoing through the hallways. He’s running down the hall, that much is clear, and when you look over at the door, you catch the blur of Andrei skipping completely past your room before he doubles back and skids to a stop in the doorway.

He looks terrible - hair still damp with sweat, the red mark across his forehead from his helmet is still prominent, and he looks like he got dressed in the dark - or an extreme hurry - in a pair of basketball shorts and his button down with the buttons done up all wrong. But it’s the look of complete panic in his eyes that scares you the most. Andrei never looks that panicked.

“Solnyshka,” he breathes, his shoulders dropping from around his ears. In three long strides he’s at your side, holding your hand, and you finally feel like you can breathe.

“Hi,” you whisper before bursting into tears.

“Hi,” he replies softly, brushing his thumb over your knuckles. His grip is almost painful, but you welcome it as you hiccup. “What’s going on, solnyshka?”

Insanely, the only words that come out of your mouth are, “your shirt is buttoned wrong.”

Andrei looks surprised, “what?” he asks absently as his gaze flickers down to his shirt. He shakes his head, “I rush. Solnyshka,” his voice is high and nervous, “what is going on? Neci didn’t know anything. Just that you’re here, in hospital.”

“I…Andrei, I’m so sorry,” the words rush out of your mouth on a flood of fresh tears. “I was pregnant and now I’m not. I lost the baby.”

You’re not even sure if Andrei can even understand you, you’re crying so hard. But one glance at his face and the completely shattered expression it wears, and you know he understood you. His fingers tighten around yours and he’s shaking his head, hair falling forward over his forehead.

“What? I don’t - a baby?” He rubs at his forehead with his other hand, eyebrows pinched together in confusion. “When did you - why didn’t -“

He can’t seem to get a full sentence out and it only makes you cry harder, your entire body hurting with the effort. You know what he’s asking though.

“Last week,” you manage. “The day after you left. I was going to tell you tonight, but…” You trail off, shrugging one shoulder.

Andrei’s head hangs, chin to chest, and he makes a little noise in the back of his throat. “I’m so sorry, milaya,” he says, voice hoarse. “I’m sorry I wasn’t here.”

The worst of your tears are drying up and you shake your head. “It’s not…I had Nyk. I hate that you had to find out like this. Baby and then no baby, all at once,” your voice cracks and you trace the little embroidered A.S. on his cuff, barely able to look at him.

Your husband sighs and drops his head so he can rest his forehead against yours. He smells like sweat and fear and Old Spice and your throat clogs with emotion again. “I thought…” he breathes. “I hear hospital and I think the worst. I thought the worst.”

This is the worst, you think. The worst possible thing. But you know what he means, that he thought something even more awful had happened to you, that he was worried he lost you because he didn’t know there was something else to lose.

Andrei’s lips brush against your cheek, soft and delicate, the rasp of his stubble a stark contrast. You sit like that, foreheads touching, for who knows how long. Andrei doesn’t cry, but his chest hitches and you think he might, maybe, when it all sinks in. You’re all cried out and now there’s just bone-deep exhaustion.

“i’m tired,” you murmur, the words getting lost between you.

Andrei nods against your forehead and pulls back, looking like it takes him a huge effort to sit back up. He cups your cheek and his thumb strokes a careful arc over your cheekbone. You lean into the familiar gesture, comforted. “Sleep, okay? I’ll…I have to call Rod. Get my stuff. I’ll take care of everything,” his voice is steady, but his eyes are clouded.

You nod, your eyelids already closing. Andrei gets up and brushes his lips over your forehead, murmuring that he loves you. Once he’s outside the room, you can hear him talking quietly to Nykki and Martin, but your grief and exhaustion pull you under before you can really concentrate on what he’s saying.

Sleep doesn’t last and you’re awake again after a few hours. You blink awake blearily, confused for a second before everything comes rushing back. Andrei’s scrunched up in a chair in the corner, his chin propped up on the palm of his hand, eyes shut. He changed in the time since he left, now dressed in a pair of jeans and a plain black t-shirt. His legs are kicked out in front of him, a pair of white sneakers on his feet. You don’t want to wake him, but when you shift, a sharp pain pierces your side and you gasp loudly before biting down hard on your tongue to muffle the noise. It doesn’t work and Andrei’s eyes fly open, his entire body jerking.

“Hey,” he’s at your side in a second, “what hurts? I call a nurse?” His accent is thick with sleep and worry.

You shake your head, the pain subsiding. “I’m fine.” And you are, the worst of the cramps are gone, leaving just a vague soreness and uncomfortable tightness in your chest and stomach. “You should’ve gone back to the hotel.”

“And leave you?” Andrei looks at you like you’re crazy. He shakes his head. “I got my bag and Nykki brought yours back. Do you want anything?”

“No,” you reach for his hand and lace your fingers together. “I just want to go home.”

He nods, looking exhausted. “Me too. I spoke to Rod, if you’re discharged later today then you come with us on the plane. If not, I stay and come home with you when you’re ready,” his lips quirk up at the corner when you start to protest. “Is decided, solnyshka. I’m not leaving your side.”

“But…” you trail off, all the arguments that you can think of fading when you realize that you don’t want to be separated from Andrei, not right now. “Okay,” you whisper.

“Good,” he chuckles under his breath. “I don’t want to argue with you.”

“No arguments from me,” you reply dryly, rolling your head so your cheek is on the pillow and you can look directly at him. “Why don’t you try and sleep some more? I’m not going anywhere.”

His jaw tightens a bit. “Can’t sleep,” he replies, even though you had just seen him asleep. “If the doctor comes, I want to be awake.”

You nod again, sore and tired, and Andrei just sits with you quietly for a while before you think to ask, “how was the game?”

He snorts. “We won, but who cares?” It’s such an unexpected answer - Andrei’s never not cared about winning a game - and it startles you into silence.

A nurse comes in a few minutes later, saving you from having to find an answer. She introduces herself as Kayla and speaks in a soft, but firm tone. You’re starting to recognize the undercurrent of apology and sympathy in the nurses and doctors’ tones and you’re beginning to hate it. Andrei doesn’t let go of your hand while she checks your vitals and puts another bag of saline on the IV pole. “The OB will be in soon to do another ultrasound and see if you need a D and C,” Kayla says gently. “But everything else looks good. You won’t be staying another night and I would guess that you’ll be out of here by early afternoon at the latest, either way.”

You nod robotically, not really absorbing what she’s saying. By this afternoon, everything will be over and you’ll for sure, 100% not be pregnant anymore. It’s a gut punch, even though you knew this was coming. Andrei asks the nurse a few more questions before she leaves, but you don’t really listen, focusing on a small stain on a ceiling tile. It looks like nothing at all, just a blob of brown, but the more you stare at it, the more your vision unfocuses, the more it starts to look like one of those stereotypical ultrasound blobs.

You don’t even realize that you’re crying again until Andrei wipes the tears from your cheeks. “Try and sleep again,” he murmurs, chewing at the inside of his cheek. “I think you’ll need strength.”

“Can you get me some water?” You ask, running your hands over the braid Nykki had done. It’s so messy and it feels like she fixed it a million years ago, but it was only four or five hours. It feels like another lifetime, sitting in the arena and joking around with her. From halfway through second intermission to a hospital room at 2 a.m. Certainly not how you were picturing the end of your trip to Vancouver.

You think you must fall asleep again because the next thing you know, there’s sun coming through the window and Andrei’s at your side again, his large hand resting on the top of your head, cradling the crown. Unfamiliar doctors and nurses are in the room and they all speak to you and Andrei, but the only words you hear are “incomplete miscarriage” and “quick procedure” before you’re being shuffled off to an operating room. It all happens too fast for you to even be scared and the last thing you remember before the anesthesia is Andrei by your ear, whispering in Russian to you, the spicy scent of his deodorant filling your senses.

Andrei’s there again, when you wake up, eyes looking red and face drawn. You’re barely conscious, but the sigh of relief he exhales permeates the fog. His hand is warm in yours and you manage a weak smile at him. “Hey there handsome,” you croak and he laughs weakly. “Miss me?”

“You…” Andrei coughs, “I love you very much.”

“Love you,” your words slur a bit. “I wanna go home.”

“Soon, solnyshka,” Andrei promises, stroking your hair. “Soon.” He’s still stroking your hair when you fall asleep again.

When you wake up again, the overwhelming sense of emptiness is what you notice first. Then Andrei comes into focus again, his weight of his head resting on your leg, his hand on your hip. You’re not sure if he’s awake or not, but you gently run your fingers through his hair and he looks over at you, shifting.

“Hi,” he murmurs, dark circles under his eyes.

“Hi,” you rasp back, fingers still working through his hair.

“How do you feel?”

“Sore, tired,” you hesitate, “empty.”

“Yeah,” Andrei’s reply is barely an exhale. “Doctor said we can go, once they give you the all-clear.”

You nod, chewing at your lower lip. “Andrei,” you choke his name, the words coming out like broken glass, “we don’t have a baby anymore.”

“I know,” Andrei replies simply, sitting up all the way and leaning forward to gather you into his arms. You go to him easily, moving carefully and ignoring the pull of your protesting muscles, and bury your face against his chest. He’s in the same black t-shirt and he smells stale now, like he needs a shower desperately, but under that he just smells like Andrei, like home, and you cry into his chest, the fabric growing wet under your face. He just holds you, his arms a strong cage around your back, his hands running up and down your back. Everything in your body hurts, but nothing more than your heart.

Throughout the next few hours, when you’re given a clean bill of health, instructions to take it easy and abstain from sex or using a tampon for three weeks, and discharged, Andrei is a rock. He’s right at your side, helping you get dressed in the soft joggers you were using as pajama pants and an oversized hoodie. He laces up your sneakers for you and carries all the bags out to the waiting Uber. You were discharged in time to make the team flight home, but after hearing Andrei on the phone before the doctor came in for your exam, you kind of suspect that he may have pressed Rod to change the travel plans. You can’t even start to think about what he’s done for you, exhaustion seeping to your bones.

No one says anything to you when Andrei ushers you onto the plane, but Neci gives you a small smile and squeezes your hand when you walk past him. You return the smile, feeling awful that Nykki has to fly home on her own. She’s been texting, checking in on you, and you haven’t answered yet, too distracted to deal with even holding your phone. Andrei bundles you into a seat near the back of the plane and wraps his jacket around you.

“Thanks,” you say quietly, resting your head against his shoulder.

“Anything for you, solnyshka,” he presses a kiss to the top of your head. “Try and sleep, long flight. I have the pain pills, if you need, okay?”

You nod against his shoulder and wrap his jacket tighter around your body, tucking your hands up into the sleeves. Andrei rests his palm on your knee and before the plane even takes off, you’re asleep.

It’s a long flight back to Raleigh and you don’t sleep the entire way, but after a solid three hour nap, you wake up feeling better. Andrei’s asleep when you wake up, his head dropped back against the headrest, his mouth open slightly. He finally looks relaxed and peaceful and you’re grateful, so grateful, for him.

Your whole body still hurts, but your legs are starting the cramp up, so you carefully shimmy out of your seat to stretch in the aisle. Brady and Jarvy wave at you from a few rows up and you wave back, wondering what they know, if they know anything. No one really tries to talk to you, so you assume Andrei told them that you had some kind of medical emergency. Legs feeling better, you settle back into your seat, finally pulling out your phone and connecting to the in-flight wifi so you can text Nykki.

She reassures you that none of the other guys know what happened and that if you need anything when you’re back in Raleigh to let her know. You’re blessed to have such a good friend in her and you thank her, thinking that maybe in a few days you’ll see if she’ll bring Gigi over for some puppy cuddles.

Andrei wakes up about and hour before you land and he gulps back half of a water bottle before he even says anything. Then he tips his head close to yours and whispers, “how are you feeling? Any pain?”

“No,” you whisper back, “I’m okay. Just sore. It’s like being drained after a really bad period. I feel better after my nap.”

“Good,” he pushes the half-empty water bottle into your hands. “Drink.”

“Yes, sir,” you tease, the moment of lightness making you feel a little better. You sip at it slowly, starting to get a little nauseous. Andrei wraps his arm around your shoulder and you lean against him, drawing comfort from his solid warmth.

When you land, Andrei guides you off the plane, his palm reassuring against your lower back. It’s easy to let him take the lead and to not think about anything. He’s got both of your bags and you don’t even put up a fuss when he refuses to let you carry even your purse. You’re just too tired.

Andrei’s car is parked fairly close and you don’t have to walk very far. You lower yourself into the front seat of the Lamborghini, muttering, “I hate this car.” Your stomach gives a protest of pain from having to climb into the car.

“I know,” Andrei laughs a little, loosening up. His string of ugly sports cars is a long running topic of conversation. The last one was orange, the one before that a strange green. This one is electric purple and it’s hideous. His terrible taste in car colors is his only red flag. “Next one will be red.”

“Why couldn’t this one have been red?” You ask, breathing deeply to stave off the nausea. You sink back against the seat and Andrei pulls out of the parking spot. He’s driving must slower than usual and is taking extreme care with navigating the roads.

“This one was only 75 made,” he explains again. “It’s a collectors item.”

“It’s still ugly,” you tease, a smile playing at your lips.

He reaches over and takes your hand, bringing it up to his mouth to kiss your knuckles. “I love you so much, moya solnyshka, and I’m so…proud of your strength.”

Andrei doesn’t look at you when he says it, but his voice gets thick and he swallows roughly. He continues, “it hurts to know there would’ve been a baby in the summer.” So he did the math, you think. “But, this is maybe the wrong thing to say, but I’m glad I didn’t know before.”

It’s not really the right thing to say to you in the moment, but you can’t blame him. You sniff and nod. “I know. I almost wish I hadn’t known either. It was only a week, but I was so attached to…to the idea of our baby.”

“When you’re ready,” Andrei says slowly, turning to look at you while you’re stopped at a red light, “you tell me and I’ll give you a baby. When you’re ready.”

You nod, unable to even think about trying for a baby right now, but Andrei’s words and his earnest expression make your heart melt. You love him so, so much. “When I’m ready,” you repeat, squeezing his fingers.

When you get home, Andrei runs you a shower and joins you after a minute, soaping up your hair and scrubbing down your body gently. You don’t speak while he works and his touch is nothing but chaste. He’s careful around your stomach and between your legs, impossibly gentle with those huge hands of his. You stand under the spray while he gives his own body and hair a quick wash, the heat of the shower starting to make you a little lightheaded. Right before it gets to the point where you think you’re going to have to say something, Andrei flips the water off and reaches out of the stall for a huge, fluffy towel, wrapping you up in it and rubbing his hands up and down your arms to keep you warm. He grabs another towel and wraps it around his waist, gripping your elbow and guiding you back to the bedroom.

You rummage in his drawers for oversized clothes, not wanting anything constrictive on your body. Once you’re comfortable in an old pair of Andrei’s grey sweats and a threadbare Duke t-shirt, you crawl under the covers and curl up on your side. “Join me?” You ask, looking up at Andrei. He nods, silently climbing into bed behind you and gently scooting you closer to him. The warmth of his body is comforting against your back and he wraps his arms loosely under your breasts, avoiding your stomach. Andrei buried his face in your hair and you let a few silent tears leak out of your eyes.

What did you do to deserve this wonderful man?

With Andrei’s arms around you and your heart heavy in your chest, you fall asleep again, but it’s unsatisfying. After a few hours, you need food even though you’re still nauseous. Andrei makes himself a sandwich and warms up a can of chicken soup for you and you eat in bed, a rerun of The Nanny on TV. Andrei doesn’t really get the show - the humor is too specific - but he does like to point out all the outfits that Fran wear and he thinks you can pull off. It’s a nice distraction.

You take the next few days off of work, just to recover, but Andrei isn’t as lucky. You’re mostly fine physically except some lingering soreness, most of your problems are mental. After talking about it on the way home, neither you not Andrei has really brought up the miscarriage.

Two days after the miscarriage, the team is playing at home and Andrei’s right there in the middle of it all. You don’t watch the game, still too raw to watch hockey after what happened in Vancouver, so it’s a little shocking when he comes home with a blackened right eye and a cut across his nose and part of his cheek. “What happened?” You yelp upon seeing him, getting carefully to your feet and reaching up to lightly touch the side of his face.

Andrei grunts. “Distracted, got hit,” he winces when he moves his face.

You feel awful, knowing he was distracted because he was worrying about you. “Luckily it didn’t need stitches,” you say softly. “Can’t have anything ruining that pretty face,” you tease him lightly.

He gives you a tight smile and his gaze flickers down to your stomach, covered in an oversized sweatshirt. You catch his look and brush your thumb over the edge of his jaw. “I’m okay. You don’t have to worry about me so much,” you say. “I’m tough. I’m strong.”

“I know,” Andrei sighs, dropping a kiss to your forehead. He hesitates, wanting to say more, and you wait. “At the game,” he says slowly, “Burnsie, Staalsy, they had their kids there. I couldn’t help…I was picturing…”

Oh.

Your heart cracks right over the scabs that had been forming the past two days and fresh pain floods your veins. “Drei…” you’re not even sure what to say to him. You knew he was sad, but you hadn’t really thought about how deep his feelings went.

He smiles sadly at you. “Today, it hit me,” he says, twisting his lips. “We lost a baby.”

“Yeah,” you reply, throat tight. “We did.”

Andrei pulls you close, twisting his hand in the end of your ponytail. “I wasn’t expecting it to hurt like this, when I didn’t even know for very long,” he murmurs and you can feel a few tears drip onto the top of your head. You wrap your arms around his waist tighter.

“I don’t think that matters,” you mumble. “It hurts no matter how long you knew about it.”

You can feel Andrei’s head turn, his cheek pressing against the top of your head. You just stand there in his arms, holding tightly to the only other person that’s feeling the same pain as you. The longer Andrei holds you, the more you feel your fragile heart mending itself, the steady beat of his heart a constant under your cheek.

After that, things slowly start getting back to normal. You’re physically healed and cleared to resume normal activities. Andrei’s not so distracted during games. You can go hours, days without thinking about the baby that’s gone.

Andrei mentions it, off-hand, about a month after you get home from Vancouver, after he’s back from another quick road trip. “We could’ve been telling our families about the baby at Christmas,” he’s clearly been thinking about it.

You nod, a little startled by his comment. “Probably, yeah. Or we would’ve told them already, too excited to keep a secret,” you smile a little to yourself, thinking about how Andrei almost spoiled his proposal twice before he actually popped the question because he was so excited.

He grins at you, dimple popping, and pushes a slim box across the table at you. “Early Christmas present,” he says, answering your unasked question.

Looking at him suspiciously, you pop the lid on the jewelry box, finding a thin gold chain bracelet with two delicate charms on it - the common blue and white Greek mati to ward off the evil eye and a little horizontal cross attached at each end to the chain. You trace your fingers over the chain and look up at Andrei.

“A little luck?” He says, lifting one shoulder. “I saw it in a store window, in Long Island, before we played. Made me think of you.”

“Thank you,” you murmur, getting out of your seat to kiss him softly. You trace your tongue over his lower lip and desire stirs in your stomach, something foreign after the last few weeks, but oh so familiar. You’re not quite ready to have sex yet, but it’s a good reminder that you will one day soon. “It’s perfect.” You hold out your wrist and Andrei clasps the bracelet on.

“Whenever you’re ready,” he says, reminding you of the promise he made in the car.

“Whenever I’m ready,” you repeat, crawling onto his lap and letting him hold you. The thought of getting pregnant again doesn’t make your chest feel quite as tight anymore, doesn’t get the panic alarms ringing in your head. Andrei’s been so patient and gentle, making everything just a little bit easier to bear.

Every day just reminds you that as long as Andrei’s by your side, you can handle anything life throws at you.

He kisses the side of your head and holds you close, chasing the shadows of grief away.

[ash5monster01]

Streetlife Serenade

Chapter Three - Weekend Song 🎶

Pairing: Steve Harrington x FemReader

Warnings: fluff, money struggles, emotional vulnerability, mentions of sleeping together, minor language, just two kids in love.

Summary: You and Steve finally both get a weekend off of work and Steve wastes no time taking you on a little getaway for just the two of you. It may not be much but it’s enough.

word count: 2.5k

Two ←→ Four

Masterlist

Winter 1986

If I'm gonna lose it I might as well be doin' it right

Steve can’t tear his eyes away from the clock. It had been like this his entire shift. Robin had already yelled at him twice for not helping her restock but how could he? How could he do something as mundane as putting movies on a shelf when he knew in just two hours you will be standing at your door and ready to go?

He had been working to hard anyway, picking up shifts just to fill the time when Robin and the kids were at school, and to spend more time with you. It had been back breaking and the overtime had run him down. The only thing even keeping him alive was doing a nine to five shift and knowing it was one step closer to getting enough money to share a life with you.

When the clock finally strikes five he’s out the door as fast as Cinderella at midnight, leaving Robin in his dust who just rolls her eyes because her best friend is dumb and in love. He knew he didn’t have the money to go on a trip but for the first time since starting at Family Video you both had the weekend off, so he was going to take his girl on a get away trip. Whether you picked him up, met him at the station, or rode in his car for hours. He couldn’t afford a vacation but he could take the strain if it meant going with you.

“Hey baby, you ready?” he calls out, pushing the door open to your home. When he sees you scurry down the stairs, bag hung over your shoulder he can’t help but smile.

“How was work?” you beam at him, arms coiling around his neck the minute his wrap around your waist. He presses a sweet kiss to your lips before providing an answer.

“Long, you ready?” he asks, desperate to hit the road and have you to himself all weekend.

“Yes Mr. Eager” you say, poking at his sides and he lightly flinches and pulls away.

“I’m just excited baby, we got some money to spend tonight” he grins that Steve Harrington grin at you and you just roll your eyes, used to effect he had on you.

“No we don’t but I suppose we can treat ourselves this one time” you smile back at him, knowing this was a big step in your relationship. This was your first trip together and even if it was small it meant things were getting even more serious between you.

“Yes, let’s do this thing” he claps and you roll your eyes, moving to put on your shoes. Steve shakes away his weekday blues as he lets the anticipation of the weekend envelop him. He knew pretty soon he’d be leaving with the wages he was receiving but at the very least he could treat you to something fun.

“Come on baby, take me away” he says as your hand interlocks his and you step out the door. You roll your eyes at his excitement despite secretly loving it.

You had been excited for this trip all day too, preparing and watching the clock for when Steve would arrive. Making sure you had a meal, shower, and change of clothes for the small getaway trip. When he finally came through that door it was like a breath of fresh air to your lungs. In just a few hours you’d be in Indianapolis, in a small motel, and seeing the city for the very first time.

Taking off down the road, dusk falling upon you, you fumble through the cassettes in Steve’s center console. Searching for the perfect road trip album. Just as your fingers find the colorful album art you grab it quickly and pop it into the stereo. Streetlife Serenader starting through the speakers. Suddenly Steve chuckles to himself and you give him a curious look.

“What?” you pry, hand curling around his arm on the gearshift.

“Nothing, I just think it’s funny I find a way to burn my money as quick as I earned it” he says, flashing you a smile that holds no regret. As much as you both had been saving up to get out of that crummy job, small set backs like this made it all worth it. You can’t have a future together if you don’t spend time together now.

“You’ll earn it back next week” you tell him, eyes glancing over his form. The boy you had come to love so much in the last year.

“I’d just broke even tonight, but I know it’ll be alright. There is no one else I’d rather be doing this with than you” he says, leaning over to offer a quick kiss before facing the road.

“I’m excited. I’ve never been to a big city. What do you think the canal is like?” you muse, excited to be somewhere other than small town Hawkins for once.

“Big, what do you think the motel bed will look like?” he asks, daring a glance at you and you gasp softly, hand reaching to smack his chest.

“Steven, it’s vacation. We can’t stay in the room the whole time” you tell him with the shake of your head and he laughs.

“I know Rosy but I just worked an eight hour day at the video store and am now driving for God knows how long. I’m dreaming of that bed and more specifically you in it” he tells you earnestly and your ears burn pink, proving that nickname even further. Steve just smiles at your reaction and lets go of the gearshift to lace his fingers with your own.

“We’ll be there soon enough” you tell him, lifting his hand to press a soft kiss to his knuckles.

It was shocking how the closer you got to the city, the more you could see the bright light in the distance. You had heard how cities were always awake and until now you never really understood what that meant. It’s not until the car finally meets road between sky high buildings, lit up like Christmas trees, do you understand exactly what that means. By this time now in Hawkins the street lights would barely be providing enough light to make it down the road but here, the street was clear as day.

“It’s so beautiful” you tell Steve, an excited grin plastered across your face. You can’t tear your eyes away from the people walking the streets, laughing and talking into the night air. Something you’d never see in small street Hawkins. The only night life there was in Hawkins was high school parties in the woods.

“I’ve seen better” Steve says, mischief dripping from his tone as he eyes you in the front seat. You just roll your eyes until Steve needs help navigating the hotel. After two missed turns since you weren’t paying attention to the map, do you finally pull into the two story motel.

“Hurry up, I want to see the room” you urge him when he takes to long to collect the bags and Steve just laughs.

“Says the girl who just picked on me for wanting to see the bed” he says, shutting the trunk and holding each of your bags in each arm.

“Don’t dwell on it now, let’s move it mister” you jump excitedly and he shakes his head even though he loves you and your excitement.

Quickly checking in you discover you’re on the second floor and facing the street, your excitement carries your feet swiftly up the stairs and Steve right behind you. Using the key to unlock the door you’re met with a small room, pink sheets, and brown carpet. It’s nothing special but it’s perfect. You’ve turned and thrown yourself in Steve’s arms before he even has a chance to set down the bags and the boy laughs.

“Happy?” he asks and you nod before pulling back and kissing him as hard as you can.

“Why don’t we freshen up and get some dinner?” you offer as you pull away and steve nods with a smile.

“Sounds like a plan” he agrees easily. He didn’t have the money to be spending on dinner but based on the way his stomach rumbled and the smile on your face, he would do it. He doesn’t wanna stand here and sound accusing since everybody does their share of losing, but if he’s gonna lose, he might as well be doing it right.

When you return from the bathroom content and ready to go, you find Steve has already begun to unpack your bags. Grabbing the sweet boy and his hand, you drag him out into the cool night air, illuminated by city lights and the glow of your love for on another. You never would’ve thought approaching the cute guy in the record store would lead you to this. You couldn’t imagine your life without Steve now, there was just something that made sense. You two just worked.

“Could you ever see yourself in the city?” Steve muses, shoving a french fry in his mouth as he watches you from across the table in a small diner.

“I don’t know, I don’t think so” you respond with the shake of your head, eyes glancing over the various customers here on a late night. As much as the city was beautiful there was no community.

“Why’s that?” he questions further and you shrug, eyes cast on your half ate burger.

“As much as it’s exciting, no one knows anybody here. They’re all strangers and in a way it’s really lonely. When I go somewhere in Hawkins I know everybody. I like having those relationships. Makes me feel like I belong. I don’t think anyone could ever really belong to a city” you finally tell him, eyes shining into his own and Steve smiles.

“Same, even with all the bad things that have happened in Hawkins over the years I couldn’t really see myself leaving everyone, especially the kids” Steve tells you, hand running through his hair and you grin when one strand falls right back into place, stubborn as ever.

“King Steve hasn’t dreamed of living somewhere grander?” you tease and Steve rolls his eyes at the nickname you know he hates. You use it anyway, knowing with you he’d never have a chance to mind.

“Just with you” he answers simply, stunning you silent and you can’t help the cheesy grin that crosses your face.

“Steve Harrington would move out of his parents big luxurious house to just to bum it with a girl” you say but Steve’s stare never falters, eyes locked into your own as he tries to convey every emotion he’s ever had towards you.

“Not just any girl, you” he smiles, voice just barely above a whisper, and you have to glance away from the intensity of his stare. Your cheeks burn pink, reiterating the nickname he had gifted you all that time ago.

“I’m nothing special” you say with the shake of your head, hands reaching to tuck some hair behind your ears. Steve sighs, eyes glancing along the neon lights of the small diner, taking in the smell of grease heavy in the air, and the buzz of the milkshake machine.

“Rosy, before you I never thought I’d be happy again. That I was just one of those guys who peaked in high school and never really found anyone who would love him. Then on a particularly sad day when I wanted to feel close to my Grandpa, I ended up finding you” he tells you earnestly and finally you lift your eyes to meet his own again, a smile covering your face.

“You think it was fate?” you grin, hand reaching across the table to meet his own and Steve just smiles back, thumb brushing over your knuckles.

“Maybe but that day I told you my Grandpas favorite Billy Joel song was the one that described how he felt about my Grandmother and how the right women could turn you around and heal you when you least expect it. You did that to me Rosy, you healed me” he says and the seriousness in his eyes only furthers his point. Your heart is hammering in your chest because you had been waiting a year for Steve to tell you he loves you and this is the closest you had ever gotten. You knew that he did but sometimes it was all you wanted.

“So I’ve got the way?” you ask and Steve smiles, lifting your hand to his lips. Pressing a slow and soft kiss to your knuckles.

“You got more than that baby, you got my whole heart” he tells you and you quickly let go of his hand, rushing over to his side of the booth and practically landing in his lap.

“I’m not hungry anymore, let’s go back to the hotel” you tell him and he laughs, eyes crinkling as he does and you have the urge to kiss him now more than ever.

“Now someone is finally coming around to spending time in bed” he telased you, finger poking into your side, and you roll your eyes as he pulls some cash out of his wallet.

“Whatever, let’s just go” you say, pulling him up and out of the booth to make the short walk back. The city is still just as alive as it was thirty minutes ago and Steve’s confession has made you feel more alive than you’ve ever felt. His pace is swift, eager to be back in the motel, and particularly in bed with you.

“Ooh, postcards!” you grin, eyes catching the new stand that you couldn’t believe was still open this late at night.

“Oh come on, don’t get distracted now” Steve pouts and you can’t help the giggle that escapes past your lips, letting go of his hand to file through the different cards.

“Hey, I promised Dustin I would send one every day we were here” you tell him and Steve shakes his head, arms hooking around your waist as he pulls you close, chin resting on your shoulder.

“Rosy we’re here to three days, barely” he tells you but you’re still just as determined as ever. Loving the kids that came along with being his girlfriend.

“I promised” you pout, finally landing on the one you loved and Steve just chuckles as you pay for it, scribbling a quick message, and sending it off. Preparing to walk away you don’t expect Steve to stop you, hand pulling you back from leaving just quite yet.

“Wait, I gotta write one too” he says, hands grasping a colorful postcard that says ‘Greetings From Indianapolis’.

“For who?” you question but he just hides it, scribbling the pen and address on the card quickly as he hands it to the man behind the stand.

“Don’t worry about it” he tells you and you let it go since you’re desperate to get back to the motel and spend the rest of the weekend with the boy you love.

Which in three days when you return home, you find the postcard amongst your mail with three scribbled words on it.

I love you.

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[bitchiswild]

The Christmas Mission

Kim Chaewon x F!Reader

Warnings: fluff

Word Count: 4k

A/n: 👩‍👩‍👧🎄📝

*. ੈ✩‧₊˚

From the moment I took my first breath, my mom and mama cocooned me in an infinite embrace of love. Life with them was a kaleidoscope of joy—I lived in a world where everything was perfect. Our family might have been small, but in my eyes, it was an entire universe of happiness.

However, that world crumbled when they decided to part ways. I remember the day they sat me down, their voices laced with reassurance, explaining that they wouldn’t share the same home anymore. I was just a five-year-old then, and although they might've thought I didn't grasp the depth of their decision, I knew our lives were about to change irreversibly.

Their separation during those holiday seasons felt like a hurricane ripping through our traditions. Choosing between spending Thanksgiving or Christmas with mommy or mama was an impossible choice. It felt unfair because all I wanted was to see us together, laughing, and sharing those special moments.

So, I devised a plan, a beacon of hope I called The Christmas Mission. I knew deep in my seven-year-old heart that if I could bring them together again, our family could be whole once more. With determination blazing in my eyes, I reached out to Auntie Yunjin, using mama's phone for secrecy. She chuckled softly at my boldness but agreed to help. Auntie Yunjin and I both sensed an unspoken truth—deep within Mama's heart, there lingered a love that hadn't faded for Mommy. And so, The Christmas Mission was a go.

*ੈ✩‧₊˚

Throughout the entire year, I mulled over a meticulous plan, carefully orchestrating it with Auntie Yunjin's invaluable guidance. We decided to set the wheels in motion come September, giving us a precious three-month window to reunite Mommy and Mama.

My strategy was simple yet profound—I wanted Mommy and Mama to reminisce about their past together. Each night, just before bedtime, I would implore Mommy to share stories of their shared history, the moments that stitched their lives together. It was a chance for her to reflect on their beautiful past.

And when I was at Mama's house, I followed the same routine, coaxing her to delve into their cherished memories. Those stories were like fragments of a once-perfect puzzle, scattered but holding the promise of reunification.

"Mommy, can you tell me the story of how you knew you loved mama?" I asked, my voice tinged with a mixture of anticipation and earnestness.

"Alina, I've recounted this tale to you countless times," Mommy replied, a soft chuckle escaping her lips.

"I know, but I love it so much," I insisted, pouting slightly, hoping to nudge her into sharing the cherished memory once more.

"Alright, alright," Mommy relented with a smile, knowing she couldn't resist my plea. "It was during winter," she began, a nostalgic glimmer dancing in her eyes.

It was a whirlwind of activity during winter for idols like Chaewon, schedules packed to the brim with performances and practices. Despite the bustling chaos, Chaewon made a conscious effort to carve out time for us. Our relationship had blossomed over the past three months, the connection growing stronger with each passing day, yet neither of us had mustered the courage to vocalize those three important words.

Before each performance or practice, like clockwork, Chaewon would drop a message, a reassuring beacon in the midst of her hectic schedule. Whether she was en route to work or headed back home, she made sure to keep me in the loop, a constant stream of updates that helped bridge the distance between us.

But amidst her gestures, I sensed her guilt. She knew I often waited for her at the dorm, eager to be by her side. The longing for her presence was palpable, and it seemed mirrored in her own desire to break free from her commitments and just be with me. Her concern for my waiting was a testament to her genuine affection, a silent testament to the emotions yet unspoken between us.

As the holidays drew nearer, a gift arrived in the form of a lighter schedule for Chaewon. Suddenly, she had pockets of time, and those moments became our sanctuary. Nights were no longer dictated by tight rehearsals or packed calendars; instead, they were ours to relish. We'd stay awake, wrapped in the glow of movie screens, concocting treats not just for us but for her fellow group members as well. We immersed ourselves in all those quintessential couple activities, indulging in the sweetness of shared moments.

Then came that overdue date—a special occasion Chaewon orchestrated. It was her chance to lavish me with affection, to express her gratitude for my unwavering support and presence. How could I have possibly said no to her thoughtful gesture? After all, my love for her was steadfast and unwavering.

Our date unfolded like a cherished fairytale. We delved into the vibrant tapestry of Seoul, relishing delicious street food, diving into spontaneous activities, and capturing our laughter in photographs. It was a day painted with hues of perfection, but the canvas of our happiness expanded when she bared her heart.

Amidst the pulsating energy of the city, she turned to me, her eyes brimming with an affection that needed no words to convey its depth. And then, in a moment that echoed amidst the bustling streets, she whispered those three words that altered the rhythm of our universe: "I love you." Those words, so simple yet carrying the weight of an entire galaxy of emotions, wrapped around me like a warm embrace. Feeling the intensity of that moment, I leaned in, closing the gap between us, and our lips met in a tender, affirming kiss. It was a moment suspended in time, a testament to the love we shared, marking one of the top three moments etched in our hearts.

As I sat there, wrapped in the warmth of Mommy's story, my laughter danced in the air while my feet playfully kicked beneath me. In the midst of her storytelling, I caught glimpses of both nostalgia and a hint of sadness lingering in her eyes. Yet, amidst those emotions, there was something more profound—a glimmer of an enduring love she still held for Mama.

The realization that my plan was gaining traction filled me with an indescribable joy. It was working! The threads of their shared past, spun through Mommy's tales, were weaving a tapestry that rekindled something beautiful between them. That glimmer of love, buried beneath the layers of time and change, now danced vibrantly before my eyes.

In that moment, I felt like a silent architect, subtly nudging their hearts to remember what they once had. It was a fragile yet powerful realization, fueling my determination to see my Christmas mission through to its heartwarming conclusion.

*ੈ✩‧₊˚

"Mama, can you pleaseeeee tell me the story of when you proposed to mommy? Pleaseeeeee," I pleaded, my hands clasped together in an emphatic display.

"Of course, baby. Just so you know, it was one of my favorite days," Mama replied with a wink, a gentle smile playing on her lips as she settled into the memory, ready to weave the tale for me.

With bated breath, I listened as Mama began, her voice laced with a nostalgic tenderness that painted vivid images in my mind. Her words carried me to a moment frozen in time, a snapshot of their love story, as she recounted the beautiful chapter of when she proposed to Mommy.

The air crackled with nervous anticipation as Chaewon prepared for the pivotal moment of her life—proposal day. Three years had woven an unbreakable bond between us, and for her, it was the perfect juncture to pledge eternity by your side. You were her world, the axis around which her universe spun, and she couldn't fathom a life without you.

Her meticulous plan had been meticulously crafted, with the assistance of her fellow members, especially Yunjin, who shared a special bond with you. Yunjin's role in the plan was crucial—to distract you throughout the day, giving Chaewon and the rest of the girls the space and time needed to prepare every intricate detail. Everything had to be flawless, just like the love you shared.

As the designated hour drew near, with Yunjin leading me back, all the preparations were set in motion. The stage was meticulously arranged, every element carefully placed to create an atmosphere of magic and love, a space where Chaewon would bare her heart and soul. The energy hummed with anticipation, every detail polished to perfection, all for that one unforgettable moment.

The room seemed to hold its breath, cocooned in an atmosphere pregnant with emotion. Chaewon stood in the center, her heart an orchestra of nerves and unwavering love. The ambiance, carefully crafted with twinkling candles and delicate touches, paled in comparison to the radiance emanating from her.

As Yunjin guided me into the transformed space, my breath hitched in wonder. It was as though the room itself was a canvas painted with the hues of Chaewon's adoration—a breathtaking masterpiece dedicated to our love.

But amidst the beauty, it was Chaewon who commanded attention, her eyes, shimmering with anticipation and vulnerability, locking onto mine. In that charged moment, her voice, soft yet resolute, began to weave a narrative of our shared journey.

"Y/n," she uttered, her voice quivering with unspoken passion. "These years beside you have been my universe, a symphony of laughter, comfort, and an unyielding anchor. You are my everything."

Step by step, she closed the distance between us, reaching for my trembling hand, our souls connected in an unspoken embrace. "Today, amid the echoes of our love, I stand here with a question burning in my heart," she continued, her voice an ethereal whisper carrying the weight of a thousand emotions. "Will you walk this path with me? Will you choose to share your tomorrows with me, painting our story in the canvas of time? Will you marry me?"

Tears shimmered in our eyes, mirroring the overwhelming surge of emotions coursing through us. "Yes," You managed to choke out, your voice trembling with raw emotion, but every syllable dripping with love and certainty.

In that hallowed moment, surrounded by the tender flicker of candles and the symphony of our hearts beating as one, Chaewon slid a ring onto your finger—a circle representing an unbroken promise, a vow to weather every storm together. It was a moment when time stood still, a crescendo of emotions intertwining, marking the genesis of our forever.

The weight of Mama's story settled like a heavy mist, veiling the room in bittersweet nostalgia. Her words carried the weight of regret and longing, painting a picture of a love that had weathered storms but succumbed to the relentless demands of her schedule.

Tears blurred my vision as I wrapped my arms around Mama, her vulnerability tugging at my heartstrings. "You know, Mommy still loves you, right?" I whispered, trying to offer solace amidst the sea of emotions.

Mama's response carried the weight of resignation, a silent acceptance veiled in her words. "No, she doesn't, not anymore. And I'm okay with that. I just want her to be happy," she murmured, the ache in her voice echoing the depth of her love.

But I couldn't bear to see Mama resigned to a love lost. With a newfound determination, I revealed my secret plan, the clandestine scheme that had been brewing in my young heart for the past few months. The confession hung in the air, a revelation poised to reshape their world.

Chaewon's confusion pierced the moment. "What do you mean, a plan?" she queried, her eyes searching mine for answers.

I gazed at her, my cheeks flushing with the weight of my revelation. "For the past three months, I've been coaxing both of you to share stories of your past," I admitted, my voice quivering with a mix of anxiety and hope. "I wanted to rekindle the feelings you have for each other."

Mama's initial shock dissolved into a burst of laughter, the sound filling the room with unexpected warmth. "You, my clever baby, are quite the little schemer," she teased, tickling me playfully, coaxing joyous laughter from deep within me.

In that moment, amidst shared laughter and gentle teasing, I glimpsed a spark of hope flickering in Mama's eyes, a glimmer of possibilities woven by the innocence and determination of a child's heart.

*ੈ✩‧₊˚

It was the moment of truth—I had Mama fully on board with our secret mission. Now, the final act of our plan was set in motion, and I was the lead actress in this grand performance.

With a mischievous glint in my eye, I switched on the blow dryer and directed its warm air to my forehead, feigning the onset of a fake sickness. I knew one thing for sure—Mommy was a whirlwind of concern when it came to taking care of her sick daughter.

"Mommy," I croaked out, playing my part with as much conviction as I could muster.

"Oh, Alina, sweetheart, what's wrong?" Mommy's worry was palpable, her pacing back and forth a testament to her genuine concern for me.

Pretending to be in distress, I murmured, "Call Mama, I want Mama," sniffling to add authenticity to my performance.

As expected, Mommy's concern deepened, and she dialed Mama without hesitation. Mama arrived swiftly, true to the script, while I sat upstairs, ready to play my next part.

"Okay, Mama, I'll pretend to sleep while you have a heart-to-heart with Mommy," I instructed eagerly, feeling like a clandestine agent about to execute a crucial plan.

Mama chuckled at my enthusiasm. "Sure thing, stinker," she said affectionately, ruffling my hair before slipping downstairs to engage Mommy in a conversation that I hoped would rekindle their feelings.

As I lay there, pretending to be asleep, my heart raced with anticipation. This was the moment where the threads of our plan would intertwine, where Mama's words would work their magic in Mommy's heart. It was a scene straight out of a movie, and I was the director behind the curtains, waiting for the climax to unfold.

Quiet as a mouse, I crept to the top of the stairs, my heart pounding with both excitement and nervousness. Peering through the banister's gaps, I listened intently, the hushed tones of Mama and Mommy's conversation drifting up to where I stood.

Their voices, a blend of familiarity and a hint of something deeper, carried a weight of emotions. Mama's gentle words mingled with Mommy's tentative responses, and it was like listening to a symphony, each note resonating with the cadence of their shared history.

Mama's voice, soft yet filled with a wellspring of emotions, carried stories of their past, moments cherished and remembered. She painted a canvas with her words, a tapestry woven with love, laughter, and shared experiences that seemed to transcend time.

As I eavesdropped, I couldn't help but feel a surge of hope. Mama's tales were like tendrils reaching out to rekindle the spark that had once blazed between them. Mommy's responses, though cautious, held a touch of nostalgia and perhaps a flicker of the love that had never truly faded.

It was a delicate dance of emotions, unfolding like a carefully scripted scene. In that quiet space, I was witness to a silent dialogue, a conversation between two hearts seeking to bridge the distance that had grown between them.

Every word spoken was a thread weaving back the tapestry of their shared love, and as I listened, I dared to hope that our plan was working, that the fragments of their past were reawakening something beautiful between Mama and Mommy.

Alina observed from her hidden vantage point, a silent witness to the delicate exchange between Mama and Mommy downstairs. Meanwhile, in another corner of the house, Y/n and Chaewon found themselves in an intimate moment, the air thick with unspoken sentiments.

Chaewon stood by the window, her eyes tracing the contours of the room but her thoughts elsewhere, entangled in a tapestry of memories and unsaid words. You approached your feelings, feeling the weight of years of separation and longing.

"Chaewon," You began, your voice laced with vulnerability and a torrent of emotions.

She turned towards me, and in that moment, the unspoken love that had lingered for so long seemed to spill from our eyes. "Y/n," she responded, her voice a whisper laden with hope and yearning.

Each word carried the weight of our unexpressed feelings. "Despite the passage of time, my love for you has never wavered," You confessed, your voice trembling with the depth of your emotions.

Chaewon's gaze softened, a shimmer of unshed tears reflecting the depth of her feelings. "The love I have for you remains unchanged, a constant amidst the changing tides of life," she admitted, her voice a tender echo of our shared affection.

In that vulnerable exchange, our hearts beat in unison, a symphony of love and longing. With trembling hands, we reached out to each other, fingers intertwining in a silent promise, a silent vow to explore the resurgence of a love that had endured the test of time.

Embraced in each other's arms, our connection felt like a melody, harmonizing with the quiet transformation taking place downstairs between us. It was a moment of tender revelation, a shared confession that spoke volumes of the love rekindled, echoing the quiet whispers of reconciliation weaving through the house.

In that vulnerable exchange, as our emotions swirled like an unstoppable tide, a silent understanding passed between us. Without words, but with a depth of feeling that words could never capture, we leaned closer.

Chaewon's breath mingled with mine, our hearts racing in unison as our lips met in a tender, long-awaited kiss. It was a moment suspended in time, a communion of souls reconnecting after a prolonged separation.

The touch of her lips against mine held the weight of unspoken confessions, the echo of years of longing, and the promise of a future rekindled. It was a kiss that spoke of unspoken vows and a renewed commitment, sealing the unbreakable bond we shared.

As we drew apart, the room seemed to hold its breath, the air charged with the unspoken promises hanging between us. The soft brush of our fingers lingered, a silent reassurance that our hearts had found their way back to each other.

In that tender moment, amidst the quiet intimacy, our embrace conveyed a story of rediscovery and a love reignited. It echoed the hushed whispers of reconciliation downstairs, a parallel journey of two hearts finding solace and hope in the embrace of love rediscovered.

“YES!” The joyous exclamation escaped me before I could contain it, echoing through the house. Quickly realizing my outburst, I covered my mouth, eyes wide with a mix of excitement and surprise. Mama's chuckle washed over me, her voice calming despite my momentary panic.

"Alina, sweetheart, come down here," Mama beckoned, her tone gentle and reassuring. Sheepishly, I descended the stairs, finding them wrapped in a warm embrace, the sight filling my heart with boundless happiness.

"Are you two together again?" I blurted out, unable to contain my curiosity and excitement.

Their laughter filled the room, a harmonious blend of emotions. "Yes and no," Mommy replied with a playful smile. "Your mama here has to take me on a date first."

My eyes lit up with excitement. "Can I plan it like I've planned to get you two back together?" I pleaded eagerly, the prospect of being the architect of their reconciliation sparking a newfound enthusiasm within me.

The sudden realization flickered across Mommy's face, a mix of surprise and intrigue. Her raised eyebrows prompted a moment of shared trepidation between Mama and me, unsure of her reaction.

"What do you mean?" Mommy's voice held a note of curiosity, urging me to explain.

Gathering my courage, I confessed, "Yes, I've had everyone in on the plan, even Mama. I orchestrated everything—the stories, the reminiscing about your past together—to rekindle your feelings for each other." There was a brief pause as I awaited Mommy's response.

She gazed at both of us, a mixture of astonishment and amusement crossing her features. "Chaewon, our daughter is remarkably smart," Mommy exclaimed, her tone a blend of surprise and pride.

"That's what I've been saying! When she told me her plan, I was shocked myself because it was actually working," Mama chimed in, her laughter blending with Mommy's, the tension dissipating into shared amusement.

The confession, once met with apprehension, now became a moment of shared laughter and revelation. It was a testament to the power of a child's earnest desire to see her parents rediscover their love, and it seemed our efforts hadn't gone unnoticed.

The air buzzed with joy as Mommy and Mama enveloped me in a warm embrace, their arms a cocoon of love and gratitude. They peppered me with kisses, their laughter mingling with mine in a symphony of happiness.

Giggles escaped me uncontrollably, a chorus of joy that echoed the newfound harmony in our family. In that tender moment, encircled by their love, I felt a profound sense of contentment knowing that our journey had brought us back together.

Their affectionate gestures spoke volumes, a silent testament to the rekindled love that now flourished between them. It was a scene painted with warmth, laughter, and the reassurance that our bond was stronger than ever.

With hearts brimming with love, we stood united—a family reunited by the unwavering devotion of a daughter and the enduring love between two souls finding their way back to each other.

*ੈ✩‧₊˚

The anticipation of Christmas filled the air with an infectious excitement, and in the midst of this joyous occasion, I shared a heartfelt wish with Mommy and Mama—a desire for a little sibling. Their surprise at my request was evident, gently explaining that it might be a bit too soon since they had only reunited a month ago. However, they promised to consider it.

On that magical Christmas day, amidst a sea of gifts from everyone, a particular box from Mommy and Mama caught my eye. With bated breath, I opened it, revealing a shirt with the words "Big Sister" printed on it. I couldn't contain my excitement—I jumped and squealed with unbridled joy. "I'm going to be a big sister!" I exclaimed, elation coursing through me.

Mommy and Mama chuckled at my exuberance, but as I rushed to them, tears began to well up in my eyes. Mama gently wiped away my tears, concern etched on her face. "What's wrong, baby? I thought you were happy?" she inquired, while Mommy held me close, offering comfort.

Amidst my sobs, I tried to explain. "I'm just so happy... our family is back together. It's all I've ever wanted for the past two years," I sobbed out, my emotions a whirlwind of overwhelming joy and gratitude.

Their arms around me felt like a fortress of love, a sanctuary where all my hopes and dreams had finally converged. In that poignant moment, the gift of their love and our reunited family outweighed any present under the Christmas tree. It was a moment etched in the tapestry of our lives, one of heartfelt emotions and the joy of a wish fulfilled.

In that moment, held tight within the embrace of Mommy and Mama, amidst the glow of Christmas lights, my heart felt like it could burst with overwhelming emotions. Their love enveloped me, a cocoon of warmth and acceptance that healed every fracture within me. It wasn't just about the joy of soon becoming a big sister; it was the depth of love that had mended the pieces of our fractured family.

Tears of sheer happiness streamed down my face, each drop a testament to the overwhelming gratitude and love I held for them. This Christmas, painted in hues of reconciliation and hope, etched an indelible mark on my soul. It was a chapter of our lives wrapped in the embrace of forgiveness, renewal, and the promise of new beginnings. As we stood there, united and filled with unspoken promises, I knew that this Christmas would forever linger in the tender corners of my heart as a testament to the healing power of love.

*ੈ✩‧₊˚

[dreamwritesimagines]

Garden of Secrets [4] - Venus Flytrap

A.N: Thank you so much for your amazing feedback and support my loves!❤ I hope you’ll like this chapter as well, and please don’t forget to tell me what you think, thank you! ❤

Thanks so much to @theskytraveler​ for helping me with the chapter!

Summary: It’s important to keep one’s promises.

Warnings: Regency era society and social rules, some gender specific language and terms, slow burn.

Word Count: 4300

Series Masterlist

You didn’t have a lot of things that you could call your own while growing up. Almost everything you wore had passed down to you from your sister whom you also shared a room with, so anything that only belonged to you was very precious to you.

So you had made yourself a flower garden.

It hadn’t been easy. In fact at first, you had worked in that small corner of the garden -as far away from your house as possible- from morning until the night fell, until your sister would call you back home for dinner. Eventually, you had managed to save up a little to buy a book on different types of flowers, and in the following days you hadn’t stopped reading it until you memorized it line by line, the various drawings of flowers on yellow pages embedded into your mind.

So needless to say, you couldn’t wait until you would see this flower exhibition.

“Can we leave now?”

“My dearest, the exhibition will open at 1 o’clock,” your aunt said with a laugh. “It’s not even the time yet, I assure you we won’t be late.”

“Maybe they’ll open it earlier?” you asked and she tilted her head.

“We will leave soon, I promise,” she said, her focus still on the paper she was writing on. “Just wait until I finish this letter.”

You slumped back down on the armchair and drummed your fingertips on the cushion.

“Are you sure you don’t want to see the exhibition with me?”

“No thank you dear,” she said. “Me and Teddy will sit by the pastry shop while waiting for you, you know how much he likes those chocolate cakes there.”

You suppressed a smile and as if on cue, Teddy ran into the room in full speed to fling himself at you.

“Whoa, hello there!” you said as you wrapped your arms around him to give him a hug. “We were just talking about you, are you ready?”

He nodded fervently and turned around in your arms to look at your aunt.

“Hello auntie! I finished all the work Mr. Langdon gave me!”

“Good job Teddy!” your aunt said, making you smile wide as you looked down at Teddy.

“Even French?”

“Even French!”

You gasped. “That’s wonderful Teddy!” you said. “Do you want to come see the flowers with me?”

He thought for a moment, an exaggerated solemn look crossing his face.

“I will if you want me to,” he said. “But first the pastry shop?”

“Told you,” your aunt said with a laugh as she sprinkled sand on the paper, then blew on it and carefully placed the paper into the envelope. “Very well, I’m ready. Let’s go.”

By the time you got to the street where the exhibition and the pastry shop was on, you were almost trembling in anticipation. You barely listened to what your aunt was saying before you made your way to where the exhibition was held, your maid following you while your aunt and Teddy went to the pastry shop across the street. You quickly paid for your ticket, then stepped inside, the view making you hold your breath.

Oh you weren’t going to leave this place until you were sure you saw every single flower in detail.

The exhibition had the same layout of a museum, and all the flowers were divided into categories. Since you were one of the earliest guests, there were only a couple of people which would make it so much easier for you to spend as much time as you wanted with every flower, and a giddy giggle climbed up your chest which you quickly hid by clearing your throat and making your way to the nearest flower.

By the time you got to see most of the flowers in room, two hours had already passed and it was slowly getting crowded. Even if you could feel the gaze of some lords -who were probably there to chaperone their sisters- on you, you paid no mind to them, you were way too focused on the lovely sights in front of you to even turn your glances.

That was, until you heard a very familiar voice.

“What a coincidence to find you here Miss Y/N.”

You closed your eyes for a moment, heaved a sigh and opened them again before turning to look up at him. Benedict was smiling at you in a very proud manner, as if he was delighted to in fact find you there. Your heart skipped a beat but you pulled your brows into a frown, shooting him a glare which didn’t seem to discourage him at all.

“Is it?”

“Hm?”

“Is it a coincidence?”

He shrugged his shoulders. “Seems like it.”

“It has nothing to do with the fact that you told me about this exhibition and knew very well I’d be here?”

“I suddenly found myself very much interested in flowers,” he said, his mischievous smile still playing on his lips. “And felt the need to see some.”

“Name one flower here.”

He looked around and pointed at the door with his thumb. “That’s a rose.”

“That’s also not a part of the exhibition, they just put it there for decoration.”

“Still counts.”

You heaved another dramatic sigh and walked past him to look at the next flower, hoping that he would get the message but of course he did not as he followed you.

“This one looks pretty.”

“It’s also very deadly,” you murmured, leaning in to inspect the petals better and Benedict tilted his head.

“Really?”

You nodded, deep in thought.

“Yeah, all parts of it,” you said. “But especially the rhizomes; the thickened roots. It’s called Flame Lily, it’s pretty and not that difficult to grow, it can even grow in sand dunes, but it’s very dangerous and people have to be very careful with it in their garden because it’s fatal to anyone who digests it. It’s also—” you stopped immediately when you caught yourself rambling and turned your head to see Benedict watching you with a soft smile and you narrowed your eyes, straightening your back and crossing your arms.

“You can read, can’t you?” you snapped and nodded in the direction of the small name plate with the information under it. “It’s all there.”

“I think that was the longest time you’ve talked to me so far.”

“Don’t get used to it.”

He almost resembled a hopeful puppy. “Tell me more.”

“I’m not the flower almanac,” you replied in a haste, trying to cover up the awkwardness that was taking over you for giving him an impromptu lesson in flowers and skipped to the next flower, with him following you suit.

“What does this one do?”

“It doesn’t do anything— alright, you know what?” you turned to glare at him. “You’re disrespecting the lady you’re courting right now. I don’t know about your arrangement nor do I care, but keep me out of this—”

“What?” he asked, his brows furrowed in confusion. “What do you mean?”

“I want no part in it,” you said and he shook his head fervently.

“No not that, what lady?”

“The lady you’re courting.”

He blinked a couple of times. “…Who am I courting?”

“Charlotte Harlowe.”

“Charlotte?” he repeated. “We’re not—Jesus Christ, this again? Who did you hear that from?”

“What does it matter?” you asked and he ran a hand over his face, a look of exhaustion crossing his eyes as if this was the hundredth time he was explaining that to someone.

“Charlie is a close friend of mine.”

You scoffed a laugh and shot him a mocking glance. “Sure. Very close I’m guessing.”

“No she really is a friend. We could never see each other that way, there’s no courtship between us, nor could there ever be.”

“And you were what, talking about art when you were in that room alone back in your house?”

“That’s exactly what we were doing.”

“Well I…I don’t care,” you said, ignoring the small spark of hope shooting through your system and throwing your shoulders back. “Just keep me out of it—”

“I’m not courting anyone right now,” he cut you off as if it was imperative that you knew it and you raised your brows.

“One could assume your ways of trying to find love is not working,” you taunted. “I’m sure you are finding something though, so not a complete loss I suppose.”

That seemed to have rendered him speechless for a moment and you used that to your advantage, walking closer to the last flower in the exhibit; Venus Flytrap.

“I think I gave you the wrong impression when um, when we bumped into each other at Madame Delacroix’s shop and what you read about me on Whistledown, but I can assure you—” he was cut off when you held your breath. “What?”

“Stop talking and don’t move,” you said, your eyes fixed on the small fly buzzing over the Venus Flytrap before it landed on the open flower.

“Is that…?”

“Yeah,” you said, still holding your breath like if you breathed too loud it would somehow scare the fly away. “If that fly stays there long enough, it will close.”

Benedict tilted his head and you nibbled on your lip, counting down in your head until the trap closed, making you exhale in disbelief. Out of the corner of your eye, you could see Benedict’s focus shifting to you but you were almost too dazed to even snap at him, and you leaned in closer to see the closed flower better, excitement rushing through you.

“Is it your favorite flower?” Benedict asked and you pulled back slightly, then turned to look at him.

“Venus Flytrap?” you asked. “No. Why?”

“I’ve heard some lords—never mind,” he said, making your frown deepen.

“What?”

“I’ve heard some lords call you that.”

“Venus Flytrap?” you asked and rolled your eyes. “How original of them.”

“So what is your favorite flower then?” he insisted. “Roses?”

“Sure,” you deadpanned. “Limitless options to choose from in the nature and I chose roses as my favorite.”

Benedict smiled slightly. “Tulips.”

“Not even close.”

“Orchids.”

“Now you’re just insulting me.”

“Dahlias.”

You arched a brow. “You know what a dahlia is?”

“I wasn’t raised in a barn,” he said, a proud grin lighting up his face again. “Is it dahlias?”

You shook your head. “My favorite isn’t that commonly found,” you said. “It’s not here, or in any florist in London.”

“What is it then?”

“Middlemist Red.”

He thought for a moment. “I don’t think I’ve ever seen that one.”

“Makes two of us.”

He looked quite confused now. “Your favorite flower is a flower you haven’t seen before?”

“I’ve seen sketches of it,” you said. “It’s the most beautiful flower in the world. I don’t have to see it in person to know it’s my favorite, it simply is.”

“You like the idea of a flower?”

“You like the idea of love,” you said without missing a beat, “At least mine exists somewhere.”

That playful light started glimmering in his eyes again. “So does mine.”

“So you hope.”

“So I know.”

You let out a hum, then shrugged your shoulders.

“Well, I wouldn’t have the time to rest if I started correcting every man’s illusions with the truth,” you pointed out and looked around the room, then nodded at your maid. “That being said, I should take my leave now.”

“I was just about to walk outside as well,” Benedict said quickly and you shook your head, then stepped out of the building with him, your maid right behind you. “No really, do you believe in anything?”

“Other than the absolute truth?”

“One could claim there is no such a thing as absolute truth.”

“Oh I can assure you that there is,” you said. “Some of us just don’t have the luxury of entertaining such pointless ideas, unlike what your artistic circle of friends made you believe.”

He opened his mouth to argue with that thought for sure, but before he had a chance to say anything, a familiar, cheerful voice reached you.

“Y/N!”

You instantly turned your head to see Teddy running to you in full speed and he flung himself to you, making you suppress a smile before you knelt down to look at him better. He had traces of chocolate all over his cheeks and you wiped at them, tilting your head.

“Did you fall into the chocolate cauldron?”

“I ate two slices of chocolate cake!” he held up two fingers and you gasped.

“Did you?” you asked. “Two slices?”

“Yes!” he said, nodding hard enough to give himself a head spin. “And we got those—those small chocolates as well, those round ones!”

You couldn’t help the smile warming your face. “Which round ones?”

“You know! The ones I brought you the last time! You invented that drink which—which we put chocolates in milk, it was your idea!”

A small giggle escaped from your lips and wiped at his cheek again as you saw your aunt making her way to you. Her eyes averted from you to Benedict and your heart skipped a beat, you had almost forgotten he was right there. As soon as you straightened your back again, you saw him watching you with a smile which made you pull yourself together and you pursed your lips again, narrowing your eyes at him.

“What?”

“Nothing,” he said quickly, shaking his head as if he was trying to snap out of some sort of a daze and turned to your brother. “Hello there. I’m Benedict, what’s your name?”

Teddy came closer to you, half hiding behind your skirt. He had his moments of shyness around strangers but he was slowly starting to overcome that lately and he stole a look at you before turning to Benedict.

“I’m Teddy.”

“Nice to meet you Teddy,” Benedict said, extending his hand and Teddy eyed him for a moment before shaking his hand.

“Nice to meet you too.”

“Mr. Bridgerton, what a coincidence!” your aunt said and Benedict bowed, the perfect picture of dignity and charm.

“Lady Thorne,” he said. “What an honor to see you again.”

You rolled your eyes but thankfully your aunt didn’t see that.

“Are you here to see the exhibition as well?” your aunt asked and Benedict nodded.

“Yes I was,” he said. “Though I’m quite ignorant on flowers, Miss Y/N has been the most helpful tutor to me today.”

You made a face at him, making him suppress a smirk as your aunt pressed a hand over her chest.

“Aw such a delightful encounter then!”

“Debatable,” you muttered under your breath and Teddy looked up at you.

“Hm?”

“Nothing Teddy.”

“And I was so taken by all this newfound knowledge that I forgot to ask,” Benedict said. “Miss Y/N, are you by any chance coming to the Brewer Ball tonight?”

“Why?” you asked tersely and your aunt cleared her throat.

“Yes we are, Mr. Bridgerton.”

“Any chance you could spare me a dance then?” he asked, making your aunt gasp and you gritted your teeth, glaring at him.

Oh he was doing this on purpose.

He knew your aunt would love it, and that you couldn’t say no right in front of her. Even though the idea was tempting, you clicked your tongue and heaved a sigh.

“…Sure,” you said after a couple of seconds and he smiled at you sweetly.

“Wonderful,” he said. “I should take my leave I think. Lady Thorne.”

“Mr. Bridgerton.”

“See you later Teddy.”

Teddy only waved at him and Benedict took a step, but stopped when he heard your voice.

“Mr. Bridgerton?”

He turned around immediately. “Miss Y/N?”

You let a mocking smirk pull at your lips.

“Do give Madame Delacroix my best,” you said. “When you go to um…pick up your sister’s gowns from her shop.”

He stared at you, his mouth slightly open in amusement and you curtsied, then turned your back to him to smile at your aunt who looked very happy, your implication lost to her as you knew it would be.

“So,” you said “Are we going home now?”

                                           *

It wasn’t that you had been excited for a dance with him.

It wasn’t as if your heart was pacing in your chest when you had stepped into the ballroom, or that your eyes searched the crowd in hopes of finding him.

It wasn’t like any of that because if it were, then that would have meant that bitter taste at the back of your throat was disappointment. Even though Daphne, Anthony, Colin and Lady Bridgerton were in the ballroom, there was no sign of Benedict.

Whatever. It was good riddance, and even if your aunt was quite upset at him not showing up after asking you to spare him a dance, you had convinced her that you did not care.

Which you did not.

Almost two hours into the ball, your dance card was full and as much as you hated it, dancing with various lords somehow provided you a distraction from the anger boiling at the pit of your stomach. It was just flat out rude to not come to the ball after this afternoon’s exchange, but it served as a reminder that you should not even have spared him a thought, no matter what he said.

Instead, you were going to just focus on this extremely pointless and boring conversation you had been somehow pulled into after your sixth dance.

“No I haven’t been to one yet I’m afraid,” you said, making Lord Brumley raise his brows.

“You’ve never been to a horse race, my lady?”

“No.”

“You’re jesting surely?”

You shook your head. “I just haven’t find the occasion I think.”

“Oh I love horse races!” he said as if you had asked him. “You must allow me to accompany you to one this season my lady.”

“Are they that entertaining?”

“Extremely!” he said. “It’s right up there for me with fencing.”

“You like fencing as well,” you muttered, looking around as subtly as you could. “I see. Are you any good at it?”

“I’m very good at it,” he said with a tinge of pride in his tone, but none of the playfulness Benedict always possessed. “Back at school -I mean of course it’s been years now, but I was the best one among my friends…”

The rest of his sentence disappeared into the rest of the chatter in the ballroom as you saw Benedict walk into the ballroom, looking somehow out of breath. You could feel your heart skipping a beat as you noticed how handsome he looked, but you bit on your tongue, trying to focus.

It was rude at best and just plain arrogant at worst to just ask you for a dance and then deciding to skip the ball, as if you were one of those ladies desperate for his attention. The anger was making it hard to listen to anyone but your own thoughts, yet you forced yourself to turn your gaze to Lord Brumley who was very much interested in telling you how he had beaten his best friend in a fencing match, but soon enough he was cut off by another voice, a very, very familiar one.

“Miss Y/N.”

You gritted your teeth and turned to look at him in complete silence, arching a brow. He swallowed thickly and cleared his throat.

“May I have a word?”

“I’m in the middle of a conversation,” you said flatly as you turned to Lord Brumley who nodded at him.

“Hello Benedict.”

“Thomas.”

Oh great, they knew each other.

“Well I’m sorry to say this but the lady is quite interested in our conversation,” Lord Brumley said with a grin. “And I even got a very faint smile from her during our dance.”

You tried your hardest to keep yourself from rolling your eyes.

“Accidents happen I suppose,” you muttered, making Lord Brumley chuckle.

“Don’t you have someone else you should dance with?” Benedict asked him tersely and you took a deep breath.

“Excuse me Lord Brumley, it seems that I must destroy yet another man’s hopes,” you told him, making him laugh and bow his head.

“Of course, my lady.”

You walked away from him, with Benedict following you.

“Y/N—”

“I’m sure there’s supposed to be an honorific in there somewhere,” you said, your voice ice cold as you walked to the window just so that you could make sure you wouldn’t look at him. Benedict took a deep breath.

“I know I’m late,” he said. “I…please accept my apologies, I did not mean to.”

“I don’t care about your intention or your presence,” you said, grabbing a drink from the tray to sip it nonchalantly, as if your heart wasn’t beating in your throat. Out of the corner of your eye, you could see Daphne looking at you two but you forced yourself to keep your gaze on the night sky, stars glimmering.

“No I was going to come here much sooner, with my family actually but—”

“I don’t know why you’re so insistent on always giving me all these explanations, it’s not as if I ask for any of them,” you cut him off. “That being said, whoever it is that’s holding your leash, Miss Harlowe or Madame Delacroix or someone else, they really ought to shorten it.”

He shook his head.

“I know what it looks like but I can assure you,” he said. “I meant what I said about dancing with you, I still want to dance with you—”

“Oh you still want to dance with me?” you asked, a disdainful chuckle escaping from your lips as you finally turned to look at him. “Well I’m honored, Mr. Bridgerton. Truly, I am.”

He paused for a moment, as if trying to find the right words.

“I was painting,” he ended up saying and you raised your brows, shrugging your shoulders.

“Alright, great. You can go back to that now.”

“No you don’t understand,” he said hastily. “I haven’t been able to paint for…for months now, lacking inspiration for so long and it was absolute torture but when I returned home today, I could finally start again. I lost the track of time until it was finished.”

Your heart made a leap in your chest. That feeling was quite familiar, you had lost the track of time while tending to your garden more times than you could count, and yet his explanation did nothing to soothe the pang of anger inside of you.

“I didn’t even hear my family leave,” he added. “It was almost a haze, even.”

“Sounds fun,” you said, your voice completely flat. “Must be nice to have that luxury to be left alone when you want to.”

“Would you dance with me for the last—”

“No,” you cut him off. “I promised the last dance to someone else, and even if I didn’t, I still wouldn’t dance with you.”

That look in his eyes was so sad that you felt your stomach turn but you forced yourself to keep your expression completely still.

“I’m sorry,” he said. “I’d like to make amends if you’d let me, it was never my intention to break your heart.”

You stared at him, that bitterness spreading through your system as an amused chuckle left your lips.

“See, this is the issue with you artists, your endless imagination,” you said. “I don’t have a heart. Don’t disappoint yourself or me any further by assuming otherwise.”

He paused only for a second before he shook his head.

“I don’t think that’s true.”

You scrunched up your nose and tilted the glass towards his direction to point at him. “Right, because you know me so well.”

“I think you want people to think you have no heart,” he pointed out. “And don’t get me wrong, you’re very good at convincing most of them. But I don’t think that’s the case.”

Your jaw clenched, that spark of fury shooting through your system as soon as the feeling of defenselessness crashed down on you. It was somehow way too familiar and you could feel your throat tightening but you managed to appear completely calm, tilting your head to the side.

“Quite the creative theory,” you commented and lowered your voice so that no one else in the ballroom could hear you but him.

“Did you come up with it while looking for inspiration between some lady’s legs?”

He pulled back slightly as if your words took him by surprise, and granted you would have never formed that sentence if it were any other lord, if it were any other person, especially now that you were in public but anger was pulsing through you too fast to let you even think about the consequences of your implications.

It was unbecoming of a lady, nor was it acceptable in any way but you couldn’t bring yourself to care, not when you were this furious at him, his assumptions and his actions tonight.

“Miss Y/N, I believe your next dance is with me?” Lord Johnson’s voice reached your ears and both you and Benedict turned your heads, snapping out of the haze.

“…Yes,” you said. “Of course, Lord Johnson.”

Benedict’s jaw clenched but he bowed his head at you. “My lady.”

“My lord,” you said and it was only when Lord Johnson took a step back that you took a step forward to Benedict so that he could hear your low voice even through the chatter of the ballroom.

“You don’t know me,” you nearly growled. “And you never will.”

And then, you dropped a curtsy and placed your hand in Lord Johnson’s, and let him lead you to the dance floor.

Chapter 5

[neil-neil-orange-peel]

A Bastard's Carol: a work of fanfiction by scumbaganarchy 💣

Season's greetings, scumbags! I hope you're all having a pleasant day. I come bearing a gift (of a sort):

https://drive.google.com/file/d/1we8qEVul2PTWFCtaVqyyXccVg8-xZBte/view?usp=sharing

A huge thank you to @viviangreeneart for the awesome art! ❤️ It turns out we should all definitely be making fake novel docs out of our fanfic. It's good for the soul.

Some pretentiousness about ABC below the cut.

Just over five years ago, a naiver version of me had the idea of writing a Young Ones/Rivyan parody of A Christmas Carol. She started actually writing for this idea in December 2019... and promptly discovered it was going to be a whole lot bigger than she'd anticipated. With one chapter posted before the big day, she decided to kick the rest into the new year.

That new year was 2020.

Yes, that 2020. Although, to be fair, what other one could I be talking about?

We'll skip all of that. None of us need to relive it.

One year, two or three lockdowns, and four indefensibly long chapters later, ABC was finally done and dusted in December 2020. It stood at around 60K words, making it by far the longest thing I'd ever written. I guess we all had to spend that empty time doing something, right?

Followers of this blog will have noticed, I'm sure, that I've never shut up about ABC since. Maybe you even rolled your eyes when you saw the title of this notification? Uh oh, she's going on about that old thing again...

Yep.

Look, I'm incredibly bad at hyping up my own work - self-deprecation is a bad habit, but a common one - and the more time that passes between who you were when you wrote something and who you are today, the harder being positive about it can get.

I was 18 when I wrote ABC. I had only gotten back into writing properly at 17. The whole work went through one major copy edit a year or so ago, when I knew a little more about writing - but I still didn't know as much then as I do now, and I suspect (and hope) the same will be true for a future version of myself when she looks back on my writing from this time.

All of this is to say, sometimes ABC reads to me as something written by somebody else. 18 year old me didn't write exactly the way I do now; she hadn't gotten the Bachelor of Arts cheat code boost that I have. But she was extremely passionate. She did love the bastards Rik and the gang created with all her heart. She'd also studied A Christmas Carol for her GCSEs only a couple of years previously, so she did at least understand the text she was taking a chainsaw to. I think all of this mattered. I think this gave ABC heart.

But what's my point in saying all of this (again)?

For a very long time, I've wanted but held back on commissioning an artist to draw me a cover. Well, no more. Truly, thank you ever so much to @viviangreeneart for indulging me and creating something fabulous for this old fic of mine. Thank you too to everyone who has ever commented on or kudos'ed ABC on ao3 over the years. It really does mean more to me than I can say.

Having dropped a new and flashy PDF decked out like an actual novel, here's the link to ABC on ao3, which will always be its home:

Merry Christmas, scumbags. Cliff bless us, Everyone!

[gaysindistress]

Sad girl - five

summary: James has an interesting new business proposal and one hell of a condition to deal with.

pairing: Mob!Bucky Barnes x Reader

warnings: cursing, guns, violence (it is a mob au after all), Bucky’s smartass, John Walker being a dick, jealousy, kissing

word count: 2.5k

part 4 | series masterlist

a/n: How are we feeling about the series so far? Are we liking it? Comments, questions, concerns? Thank you for all of the love!

taglist: @missvelvetsstuff @angelsincident @spencerreidisagorgman @ goldensunflowe-r @i-have-no-life-charlie @esposadomd @reader-without-a-story​ 

disclaimer: credits to original creator/poster of image/gif. found on google/Pinterest

Friday rolled around much quicker and smoother than she had anticipated. James is rarely home and when he is, he’s in his office working. Natasha’s ominous door policy turned out to be exactly what she’d thought.

“Door open means come in. Cracked open means knock and closed means go upstairs,” he’d told Doll one night during dinner. Of course, she’d rolled her eyes because the infamous Mr. Stark had the exact same policy. She did wonder if it was just a crime boss thing. 

After spending more time getting ready than she’d liked to admit, she found herself standing in the foyer now waiting for James to join her. Steve and Natasha were talking about the security detail for the fundraiser off to the side while his other men were standing statue like around them. Mr. Stark also had men around him but never this many which lead her to ponder if James was involved with even shadier things than her father. She didn’t get much more time to worry about if she would wind up kidnapped or dead because the famous sound of his expensive shoes hitting the hard floors drowned out every thought. Steve and Natasha stop their conversation, turning into good little soldiers as did the other men in the room, standing up even straighter than before. 

“Look at you, Doll,” James announces while walking up to her, admiring how the fitted black dress hugged her body.

“Finally. You took longer than me to get ready,” she huffs with annoyance and shifts under his gaze. 

His mouth opens to say something but closes when he spots the ring he gave her adorning her hand, “I see you’re wearing your ring.”

Glancing down at her left hand, she pulls it out from his view to smooth the side of her dress down. 

“Of course I am. We’re announcing our engagement, aren’t we? It would look suspicious if I wasn’t wearing it.”

Holding up his hands in defense, “Touché.”

Stealing a look at him, she curses to herself and her body’s reaction to his entirely black outfit. She flushes seeing how his shirt isn’t buttoned up all of the way, flashing glimpses of his tan chest and that stupid chain. James seems to have a habit of never buttoning his shirts entirely or just wearing V-necks and it’s starting to cause issues between her and her body. 

“Oh before I forget, I got you something,” he seems quite proud of himself as he pulls a necklace box from the inside of his suit jacket. He opens it, extending it out as an olive branch. Inside the box lays a silver and diamond ‘B’ initial necklace, damn near identical to the ‘S’ one she’d crushed days earlier. 

“You’re stupider than I thought if you think I’m wearing that,” she attempts to sound menacing but it comes off more in a defiant child-like way. 

Pushing her hair off her shoulders, he takes the necklace out and clasps it around her neck so it can find its place among the other chain and pearl necklace she never takes off. 

“Looks like you’re wearing it now, Doll, and I’ve gotta say it looks like it belongs there,” he says lowly in her ear, warm breath causing a shiver to race down her spine. Taking a step back, he replaces her hair over her shoulder and flattens the necklace down, cold fingers brushing across her warm bare skin. 

“Oh fuck…” dies on her cherry red lips. 

“Time to go, Doll.” 

“You’re lucky I don’t backhand you for that.”

With one hand on the small of her back, he ushers her out of the door and into the black SUV, “Whatever you say.”

_______________________________________________

The drive to the fundraiser is awkward, to say the least. Steve has been chuckling to himself like a schoolboy every time he makes eye contact with her through the rearview mirror and Natasha keeps slapping his arm to shut him up. James has been typing away at his phone the entire time, smiling to himself. 

‘What the hell is he smiling about?’ she finds herself thinking. 

‘Oh get over yourself. He’s definitely texting his side piece. Oh god am I jealous? Get a fucking grip! You’re not a real couple. He can fuck whoever he wants. It’s not like you’re his real wife.’

Another Steve chuckle breaks her thoughts as she shoots him the best death glare she can muster. 

‘This all fake. None of this is real no matter how heavy your ring is or have flustered he makes you. It’s not real. It’s not real. It’s not real,’ she keeps repeating to herself because god knows she’s going to be living in Hell if she doesn’t. 

The SUV rolls to a stop in front of her father’s tower, Stark Tower. People are streaming in the beacon of power, greed, and money and she can’t help but roll her eyes. Only her father would use his blood money to host a fundraiser and lord only knows what they’re supposed to be raising money for. All she knows is that there will be enough champagne to numb any emotions and decently terrible music that she’s sure her father picked himself without the help of Pepper. Exiting the SUV, hand in hand with James, they’re immediately greeted by her helicopter stepmother and unbothered father. 

“Darling! It’s so good to see you! You haven’t returned any of my calls, I was getting worried James had stolen you away,” her father lies through his pearly white teeth. Pepper just smiles beside him, eyeing her stepdaughter’s choice of dress. 

“Well, we were a little preoccupied celebrating,” James flashes a blinding smile at both of them as he continues to guide Doll up the stairs and into the tower. 

Her father wraps an arm around her shoulders, harshly ripping her away from James and into his side instead, “Smile. Everyone is looking at you and that rock on your hand.”

Smiling through gritted teeth, she pretends her father is being loving and supportive, “Let go of me.”

“Play nice.”

“Should’ve thought of that before you put me in this situation,” she whispers back through her forced smile and pulls herself out of his grasp. Her future husband’s hand finds its way onto her back again, keeping her at his side and professing a false display of affection. 

James leads them further into the fundraiser and away from her father but only to shove her into conversation with random people to announce their happy union. The old women smile fondly at James and his dazzling smile while giving her the fakest ‘congratulations’ they can muster. Their husbands leer at her chest causing the man at her side to clear his throat and pull ever closer to him, hiding her chest in his side. 

“You’d think the ring and the necklace would be enough to scare them off,” he whispers to her at one point. 

“And you’d assume these old bitches would stop trying to get into your pants at some point,” her remark causes him to choke on his drink and her to smile. 

“Oh James baby are you okay?” she feigns concern with mischief in her eyes as he recovers. 

“I’m more than okay, Doll,” he says proudly back to her. 

The night drags on and no amount of champagne will ease the pain of sucking up to the elite of the New York crime scene. The couple’s only relief is found in making snide comments to each other and when true friends come into save them from boring conversations. 

Sam Wilson was the first one to save them from a particularly disgusting couple. James has never been so happy to see his friend’s face before. However, the pleasure doesn’t last long when he feels her stiffen next to him. 

“Are you alright?”

She bats her eyes at him when she glances up, “Oh um we should probably move. Walker is on his way over here and unless you want a fight on your hands, I suggest we get out of here.”

Nodding, James leads her to the dance floor after hugging Sam goodbye. 

Taking her left hand in his right, he leads her into a dance as Julie London’s “Sway” plays. She curls her free arm around his neck and can unfortunately feel the heat of his other hand on her hip. 

“Is your father Italian?”

“What? No. At least not that I’m aware of. Why?”

His shoulders raised, “The music would say otherwise.”

She rests her forehead on his lapel, “Oh my god, he seems to think being a criminal in New York makes him some Italian mob boss.”

His chest rumbles with a laugh, “I’m sensing a story there.”

“Don’t even get me started on what he wanted to name me. Let’s just say I would’ve been the epitome of a mob boss daughter if he would’ve gotten his way.”

“Oh, I would love to hear it.”

“Antonietta Marie Stark,” an unknown voice speaks up from behind the couple. 

James spots John Walker in his pompous glory standing too close for comfort to Doll. 

“Can I help you?” she asks, incredibly bored and vexed by his intrusion. 

 “I heard you had gotten engaged so I came to congratulate the happy couple, sweetheart,” he says with a grimy smile. 

James pulls her into his side, away from John and further into his protection, “Thank you and you’re more than welcome to leave now.”

“I’m hurt, sweetheart, you didn’t call me to tell me that you had started seeing Barnes,” Walker continues to push his luck and in turn, James’ grip around her tightens. 

“Last time I checked, I didn’t have to run things by you, John. I’m not obligated to call you about anything.”

He shakes his head, laughing, “Funny how this all happened right after your dad got into some hot water with the government and only a few months after we last fucked.”

Her jaw drops at his crass words and the sheer audacity he has to say something like that in front of her supposed new fiancé.

“It’s time for you to leave,” anger is filling James’ body as John ogles her. He waves at Steve and some of these other men. 

“Get the fuck out of here before I put a bullet in you,” is the only thing James says to John as he nearly rips Doll’s arm out of her socket and pulls her towards the bathrooms. 

Not wanting to make an even bigger scene, she stumbles to keep up with his pace and doesn’t stray from his side. She can hear John trying to excuse his behavior as Steve escorts him out of the building but it’s lost on her because there is a very angry and dangerous man dragging her across the floor. He doesn’t say a single word or even look at her when he spots an empty conference and shoves her through the door, slamming it shut. 

“Sit,” he snaps, pacing as she sits down on the table behind her.  

“Care to explain what the fuck that was about?”

Rubbing where he had grabbed her, “It’s not anything to worry about. It was in the past.”

He stops his pacing to set his harsh and demanding blue eyes on her. The anger tensed his shoulders and rolled his hands into fists. He looks even bigger than he usually does which is a feat in itself. 

“Fucking excuse me?”

“I said it was in the past. It doesn’t matter.”

“Oh no, you don’t get to decide what it’s important or not. Start talking.”

She pushes herself back further on the table as James takes long strides to stand right in front of her, crowding her personal space. 

“We went out on a few dates and slept together a few times but that’s all. We weren’t officially together and he got bent out of shape that I was seeing other people too so he does whatever he can to piss me off.”

“How many times?” 

She stares back at him, his gaze burning holes into her with anger and jealousy. 

“How many times what, James? Are you jealous of that dickhead?”

“You know what I mean. How. Many. Times?” he punctuates each word by sliding himself in between her legs and planting his hands on either side of her hips. 

“Three,” her chest starts to heave at the closeness and the overwhelming feeling of him. 

“Three times and he’s that obsessed? Oh, Doll it must be heavenly if that’s all it took,” his hot breath ghosts over the column of her neck. He dips his head to kiss the side of her neck as his hands grab ahold of her hips, pulling her against him roughly. 

“If you’d just give up and stop being so stubborn, I could make you feel so good.”

His cologne fills her senses as she lolls her back, giving him even more access to nip and lick up her neck. He laughs darkly, ghosting a hand over her side and sliding it over the back of her neck. Grabbing a fist full of her hair, he pulls her head sharply to the side, “Are you going to give up?”

“Go fuck yourself.”

The hand slides to the front and grips her throat, a signet ring digging into her skin. Her hands fly up to hold onto his shoulders as his lips descend upon hers, hungrily devouring hers. There is nothing sweet or loving about the way their tongues are fighting against each other, red lipstick swearing across her face. 

Pulling back with her bottom lip in between his teeth, he admires the way she’s breathless and fluttering her eyes open, “Life could be so much better if you belonged to me, Doll.” 

“I don’t belong to anyone and most certainly not you,” she murmurs against his lips before capturing them in another clash of teeth and tongue. 

His hand tightens around her neck, choking the soft moan that escapes her mouth despite her best efforts to silence it. The moan only spurs him on as he pulls her impossibly closer, feeling the heat from between her legs on him. Moans continue to get up caught between their lips as he absolutely devours her. Her chest is pushed against his and he can feel the brush of hers against his every time she takes a breath and at the moment it’s very rapid. Her thighs twitch around his waist and it takes everything in to not sink down to his knees and explore. 

Resting his forehead against her, he pulls away panting. She’s the first to speak. 

“Keep kissing me like that when you’re jealous and I’ll only be more stubborn,” she laughs out of breath. 

The hand around her neck shifts to cup her jaw, thumb rubbing the ruined lipstick away. James shakes his head at her statement, eyes roaming her face. 

“I’ll just have to keep you locked up in that case.”

“I’d like to see you try,” she shoves his chest and he lets her push him away so she can stand on wobbly legs. He smirks at her, shifting to a smile when she gives him a look. 

“Let me help you, Doll, can’t have people getting the wrong idea,” he teases her as he wraps an arm around her waist and they leave the conference room to rejoin the fundraiser. 

[thiriann]

The Pale Elf and The Golden Dragon- Ch 1.

You can also find me on AO3

I've made a couple of NSFW renders for this work which you can find on my AO3 or my Twitter

Rating: Explicit

Words: 9,1k

Pairing: Astarion (Baldur's Gate)/Original Female Character

Notes: This fic focuses on the draconic bloodline sorceress Deliria and Astarion as they navigate through life after their adventure and learn how to handle her family of nobles. There will be all of the domestic bliss, awkwardness and drama that comes with meeting the inlaws. Also lots of exhibitionism and getting down and dirty in the open as the evening in the graveyard has definitely awakened something in Deliria and in Astarion for that matter.

Warnings: 18+, Vaginal Sex, Romance, Making Love, Fluff and Smut, Vampire Spawn Astarion (Baldur's Gate),Exhibitionism, Public Sex

Summary:

When they found themselves being the last remaining in their little camp, Deliria turned to him with a serious look. “There is one more place I’d like to visit before we leave tomorrow; my family's estate in the Upper City. And I'd like it if you came with me.” Astarion froze as a wave of conflicting emotions washed over him. He knew she had family in the city, of course, he knew, yet it hadn’t occurred to him that he'd meet them one day. Did this mean meeting them as Deliria's companion or as her… lover? If her tone was any indication, it was the latter. A cold sweat prickled his skin as panic surged through him yet when he opened his mouth what came out was "Of course my love. I would like nothing more."

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Deliria closed the camp chest, effectively putting away the last of their belongings. Surprisingly, the Elfsong still stood untouched after the battle with the brain and luckily for them so did most of their things. Deliria had split evenly everything they’d accumulated during their adventure and distributed it amongst their remaining companions.

"This is all so much. Have we really managed to gather all of this during our time together?" Shadowheart had asked in utter disbelief and she watched the stack waiting for her.

"And more but we spend a sizable chunk on necessities and battle supplies," Deliria said putting one last bag on the pile.

“I think I might be able to buy a house with all of this.”

"If there are still any left to be bought," Jaheira spoke up from behind. "The city is in ruins, the Upper City almost entirely decimated."

Deliria's eyes flickered to Jaheira, a shadow passing over her face before she turned away and went to give Gale his part.

One by one the others departed, ready to start their new adventures and Astarion couldn’t help but feel an anticipation to start their own as well. The loss of his ability to walk in the sun stung terribly still and a silent envy gnawed at his core at how easily his former companions walked away in the light. Yet, Deliria's presence was a balm, soothing the sting of his loss. He’d get used to it, he knew, but for now he let himself grieve.

When they found themselves being the last remaining in their little camp, Deliria turned to him with a serious look.

“There is one more place I’d like to visit before we leave tomorrow; my family's estate in the Upper City. And I'd like it if you came with me.”

Astarion froze as a wave of conflicting emotions washed over him.

He knew she had family in the city, of course, he knew, yet it hadn’t occurred to him that he'd meet them one day.  Did this mean meeting them as Deliria's companion or as her… lover? If her tone was any indication, it was the latter.

A cold sweat prickled his skin as panic surged through him yet when he opened his mouth what came out was "Of course my love. I would like nothing more."

As they ventured into the ravaged Upper City, Astarion felt increasingly out of his depth. It was one thing to seduce the occasional noble and another thing entirely to enter a patriar's home as the partner of their child.

He had contemplated what to wear for a good half hour unable to decide between his armour and one of the few suits they'd bought that had managed to stay relatively unstained. He liked the sophisticated feeling the suit gave out but at the same time, it had nowhere he could stash his dagger on it, no place for his vials of toxins, and no way to attach his bow. The familiar and protective armor felt like a second skin and made him feel more...himself, but it was ill-suited for a noble's home.

In the end, he donned the suit. He wouldn't be playing his usual role, but it'd be a role nonetheless, might as well look the part.

Never one to leave unarmed he took his dagger and stashed it in his boot. Deliria had given him a look but hadn’t said anything.

A sharp cry went up in the air as they got closer to the broken remnants of the bridge that connected the Upper and Lower Cities. Astarion exchanged a quick glance with Deliria, their minds already racing. The scent of blood hung heavy in the air, making it easy for him to track its origin.

A young woman was pinned to a wall by a rather large burly man, both of her hands caught in one of his. Terror painted her face as she kicked and struggled against her captor.

Without conscious thought, Astarion lunged, his body moving with a feral grace born of countless nights in the shadows.

His dagger found its mark with sickening precision, sinking into the man's neck. A guttural scream ripped from the attacker's throat as he released his grip on the woman. He swung his fist wildly in Astarion's direction but didn’t manage to land a single blow.  Deliria's voice, like a whipcrack of thunder, echoed through the ruined street as a bolt of fire struck the man's side.

Astarion seized the opportunity, his fangs sinking into the fresh wound. The man's struggles grew weaker with each passing moment as the lifeblood drained from his body. When the man finally collapsed, limp and lifeless, Astarion tore his mouth away, a satisfied shiver running through him.

He turned to the woman, expecting gratitude or at the very least, shock. Instead, her eyes widened in an almost comical display of excitement. “I can’t believe it! You’re the Pale Elf of Baldur’s Gate!”

He stared at her as she approached him, grasping his bloodied hand in both of hers.

“And your partner- the Golden Dragon!” she jumped to shake Deliria’s hand next. “This is the greatest day ever! I must tell my mother. Thank you both so much!”

Within a moment she was gone, before they could react, the woman was gone, sprinting back towards the safety of her home. A bewildered silence descended upon Astarion.

He turned to Deliria, his mind reeling.

“What in the hells was that?” His voice was a mixture of confusion and disbelief. 

She merely shrugged, a hint of amusement in her eyes. "It seems she recognized us as the people who saved the city. I guess some infamy is inevitable with such things."

"Infamy?" Astarion sputtered. "Surely she mistook me for someone else. Did she say… Pale Elf?"

"The Pale Elf of Baldur's Gate, to be precise." Deliria said with a smirk and Astarion’s eyebrows shot up looking at her questioningly “We all have these...monikers.”

“What?” he asked flatly.

“The Golden Dragon, The Githyanki Warrior, and so on” she began listing and he stared at her as if she’d grown two heads. “It’s our fault really for letting Wyll talk to the press.”

Dread filled him at the realization.

“You’re joking” he groaned dramatically.

Deliria shook her head, her expression sympathetic. "I'm afraid not. “

“Oh, I’ll kill him next time I see him.” He hissed under his breath, the threat carrying some truth no doubt.

Deliria simply smiled at his antics before casting prestidigitation on his now dirtied clothes.

“I can’t believe we went and saved all those people only to be remembered with a ridiculous moniker in some gossip rag! Being a hero is not worth it at all. “ He kept grumbling as they continued their trek to the Upper City.

The scale of the city’s destruction grew more harrowing with each step closer to the battle site. Astarion stole a glance at Deliria, her posture rigid, her body tense as a bowstring. He reached out, his hand finding hers. She didn’t react but her fingers tightened around him just a little.

Their journey finally led them to a street that seemed to have escaped the worst of the devastation. Cracked pavement and fallen trees marred the once pristine avenue, but a semblance of the former prestige still remained.

Deliria stopped before a three-story white house, its paint chipped but otherwise unharmed. Letting out a breath she hadn't realized she was holding, she murmured, "This is it." But her feet remained rooted to the spot. "When I sent word of our arrival a few days ago, there was no answer. A part of me feared..." Her voice trailed off, and even without the tadpole, he could sense her fear.  They stood on the precipice of a new reality for Deliria, a reality where all that she knew might be irrevocably changed.  He knew that feeling all too well.

Despite the anxiety that still lingered in his stomach, Astarion hoped she knew he’d be there for her through this, just as she’d been for him.

He gave her a moment to gather herself after which they slowly approached the front door. Deliria knocked with a haste that betrayed the nerves beneath her stoic facade. Astarion tried to quell the rising panic at the sudden influx of sounds from within the house and schooled his face into the practiced charming smile he used to wear so often before.

A booming voice cut through the noise, "I shall open the door myself! It's my daughter for gods’ sake, now move aside!”

 That would be Deliria’s father, Astarion assumed. He should have felt privileged that a patriar was coming to greet them personally but all he could feel was the lump stuck in his throat and the rising paranoia that they would take one look at him and just know he was a vampire.

The heavy oak door swung open, blinding them with the sudden burst of light. A man, shorter than Astarion with Deliria's dark complexion and slicked-back black hair, stood framed in the doorway. His eyes softened immediately, but before he could speak, he swept Deliria into a tight embrace which she returned happily.

"My girl," he cooed, his voice filled with relief, "I'm so glad you're safe."

 “We were so worried. You were gone for months!” he tried to scold but his attempt was swallowed by the overwhelming joy of actually seeing his daughter.

Astarion stood awkwardly as this picture of domesticity unfolded before him. It had been so long since he'd seen an actual family that it felt foreign even if strangely comforting. Once again, he thought this might have been a mistake, and they hadn't even gone inside yet.

"I'm so happy you're alright, Father," Deliria said pulling away from their embrace. "It's a long story, but first, I'd like you to meet someone very special. This is my partner, Astarion."

Astarion snapped out of his reverie at the mention of his name.

"Ah, of course, the Pale Elf. A pleasure to finally meet you. I'm Amir Galdoriel," Deliria's father offered a warm smile. Deliria stifled a chuckle as she noticed the infinitesimal twitch in Astarion's eye at the reappearance of his heroic moniker.

Amir extended his hand, and Astarion grasped it firmly. "Please, just call me Astarion. No need for formalities."

"Indeed," Amir chuckled. "Please, come in. You must meet everyone."

Well, at least that hurdle was cleared. Officially invited, Astarion followed Deliria into the bustling sitting room where her family waited for them. Her brothers, their wives, and a gaggle of curious children greeted them with a mixture of fascination and affection. The introductions were a blur of names and faces and Astarion felt he could confidently say he’d never felt more awkward in his life before, and that was saying something.

Taking a silent breath, he launched himself into the fray. "Your home is truly exquisite, Amir," he began, his voice laced with a hint of genuine admiration, taking in the lavish decor adorned in white, pink, and gold.  Patriars’ homes were often like this, notorious for their facades of perfection, even if it was often one-upmanship masquerading as sophistication.

Astarion dragged his hand over the embroidered settee, noting the gleam it gave, almost as pure gold. “Remarkable embroidery, silk fine as this, does it hail from Cormyr?”

Amir smiled. “You have a good eye for quality. This is Waterdavian, actually, but I do have a Cormyrian set in my office. Where are my manners—would you like a tour of the house?”

“But of course, how could I say no.”

As they walked through the opulent rooms Amir described in detail the origin and essence of each fabric and furnishing. It seemed Astarion struck on point by bringing up fabrics. A part of him, a curious and restless part that he was trying to silence, yearned to explore every corner, to shuffle through every shelf of the manor but he held himself back for Deliria’s sake, another time surely.

“Forgive me,” Amir said, breaking the spell. “I feel I’ve gotten rather carried away in my ramblings. It’s often hard to distinguish between work and passion.”

Astarion tried not to reflect on that sentence.

“So, you deal with fabrics professionally?” Astarion asked, genuinely curious.

Amir looked puzzled. “Yes, our family owns several silk farms across the Sword Coast, along with a few tailoring establishments. Has Deliria not mentioned it?”

Strangely she had not but it would somewhat explain her taste in fashion.

 “I’m afraid it must have slipped her mind,” Astarion replied. “Our adventures tend to be…hectic.”

Returning to the sitting room, Astarion stole a glance at Deliria. She animatedly discussed the mind flayer colony with her family, her smile genuine and warm. It was a warmth he hadn’t often witnessed and caught himself gazing at her longer than he should have.

He also noticed one of the women sitting next to Deliria appeared slightly green-faced. He slipped in beside her, settling onto an opulent pillow.

“Mind flayers are such vile creatures, aren’t they? I’m glad to be out of their slimy clutches at last,” he offered casually.

The woman raised an eyebrow. “Your adventures sound riveting, really, but… are all of them this graphic?”

“Not at all,” Astarion replied, though he wasn’t entirely sure it was true. “We’ve seen grotesque and glamorous alike.” He paused, thinking. “Ah, yes, one of my personal favorites. While we trekked through the cursed Shadow Lands, we entered an old, seemingly abandoned toll house. To our surprise, the toll collector was still alive—except now, she was entirely made of gold.” He emphasized the point with a flourish.

“There’s no way,” the lady said, turning to him, curiosity piqued.

“It’s the honest truth,” Astarion insisted. “She wouldn’t be satisfied until she had all of our gold as well.” He added mock outrage for effect.

“How did you manage to escape?” another wife inquired.

As Astarion recounted the glorious defeat against the toll collector, most of Deliria’s family gathered around him, hanging onto his every word, save for Kelran who was still asking her questions Sarevok and the Bhaalistic threat.

She stole a glance at Astarion animatedly conversing with the others seemingly in his element, his smile charming and playful, yet it didn’t quite reach his eyes.

Frowning she excused herself and went to his side. “I am sorry to interject but I fear I must steal your esteemed storyteller for a moment. Please excuse us as I’ve just remembered I haven’t shown Astarion the gardens yet, we’ll be back shortly.”

It was the worst excuse she’d ever given but thankfully no one raised issue with it and Astarion followed her to the back porch without protest.

As they stepped outside, he turned to her.

“Is something troubling you, my dear?” he asked, his eyes searching hers.

She contemplated for a moment how to breach the subject with him. She suspected asking him directly would lead her nowhere so instead when she opened her mouth what came out was “Are you alright?”

His eyes widened and he looked momentarily caught off guard. “I’ve never been better, my sweet. Why do you ask?”

Deliria sighed. He was deflecting, as expected. “I just want you to know that you don’t have to…perform. Neither with me nor with my family.” She looked at him with conviction. “And I’m here if you need anything.”

Astarion’s eyes softened.

"Thank you, dear," he said quietly before clearing his throat. "Should we get back now? I imagine the others are giddy with anticipation to hear more of our stories. “

As the evening carried on Astarion used a momentary lull in the conversation to take in the interior of the sitting room. The image of Deliria living in a place like this felt oddly out of place. For all her grace and refined taste in clothing, she was equally at home sleeping beneath the open sky, her feet bare on the grass Hells, just listing the things he’d seen her consume during their journey could make most nobles double over and spill their lunch.

His eyes landed on a portrait of a young elven woman. He thought for a moment that it was Deliria but upon closer look, he noted her eyes were different, amber in colour and her hair was much lighter.

"So, Astarion," a voice startled him from his reverie. It was Kelran, one of Deliria's brothers, his gaze curious. "Were you raised according to any elven traditions?"

Astarion forced a nonchalant shrug. "None that I can recall. I've lived in Baldur's Gate for as long as I can remember." It was mostly true. There were fragments, echoes of a life before, but they were as elusive as shadows.

Kelran laughed heartily. "Us neither. Our mother had her own approach to things. She wouldn't be confined to orthodoxy." Astarion couldn't help a small smile. He saw a reflection of Deliria in that statement.

"She adored the diverse social life of this city, probably was more Baldurian than those actually born here," Kelran continued, his gaze drifting from the portrait on the wall to Astarion. "She made sure we knew the Baldurian nobility very well," he finished with a pointed emphasis that Astarion didn’t like at all.

“She sounds like a perceptive woman,” Astarion replied carefully. “Knowing the right people is indeed a necessity.”

"And what of your parents, Astarion? Are they still residing in the city?" The question hung heavy in the air.

“Dinner is served, my lord.” A servant announced. Saved by the bell.

"Thank you, Ginny," Amir replied,before turning to Deliria and Astarion “ Shall we?”

Astarion had been so nervous about meeting her family that it’d somehow slipped his mind this was an actual dinner where he’d have to eat real food.

Ever since turning into a vampire, anything solid he consumed had tasted foul, acidic, and rotting, the mere thought of it sliding down his throat sent a wave of revulsion crashing over him. He could try to manage a few bites, he supposed, enough to feign a stomachache later.

Astarion stared at the plate served before him. He couldn’t remember the last time he had an actual meal but he was certain it didn’t look like this. The food, arranged in elaborate forms, resembled an ornate centrepiece more than something meant for consumption. It was a feast for the eyes, a banquet for the privileged, but for Astarion, the very image of it triggered a wave of nausea. The aroma, though pleasant, did nothing to stir even a flicker of appetite.

He reached for a wine glass, seeking some solace in alcohol, only to hesitate. Two goblets stood in front of him, one on either side. Etiquette had long since abandoned him, so he sought Deliria's guidance. Notably, she had only one glass in front of her.

He paused for a moment and felt his hair stand on edge. He sniffed the air, his heightened senses confirming his suspicion.

"Astarion," Deliria murmured, concern lacing her voice as she leaned closer. "What's wrong? What happened?"

He tilted his head towards the untouched glass, his voice barely a whisper. "It's blood," he rasped.

“What do you mean blood?” she whispered back before taking the cup and sniffing it. A part of him felt relieved, for a fleeting moment he thought she’d told them and didn’t even bother informing him about it. But another part kicked into full defense. They’d known he was a vampire and they’d prepared for it.

“Father, what is the meaning of this?” Deliria turned to her father furious, still clasping the cup of blood.

Amir, visibly flustered, stammered, “That’s uh, sustenance, for Astarion's... condition.”  he fumbled refusing to name the elephant in the room “We were trying to be hospitable, I truly apologize if we overstepped, we meant no offense. "

Shock and disbelief washed over Astarion at the sudden apology and while it brought a level of relief that they were not immediately reaching for their pitchforks, he still felt strangely exposed.

“And you didn’t think to let us know you were aware of his condition?” Deliria continued, her fury rising.

Amir shrunk under her gaze. "I assumed... well, it's all over the blasted newspapers. Volo's new book also details how you helped... your vampire friend walk in the sunlight."

Astarion pinched the bridge of his nose trying to calm himself. Volo’s colourful retelling of events was unsurprising, but the mention of the newspapers sent a chill down his spine. Two centuries of hiding in plain sight, and now, every noble and commoner alike knew his secret.

"Are these accounts not accurate then?" Amir inquired; his voice laced with curiosity.

Kelran scoffed. "Accurate? Look at him! Pale as a moonbeam, fangs sharper than any dagger. A vampire, plain as day."

Astarion felt his temper rising. They had known all along and now, they were discussing him as if he wasn’t even there, just a mere creature on display.

"Enough!" Sarlen, Deliria's younger brother, cut through the tension. His voice, though firm, held a hint of apology. "Astarion is a guest in our house.”

He turned to Astarion, his eyes conveying a sincere apology. " I apologize on behalf of our family. We should have known this was a delicate matter."

Astarion met Sarlen's gaze, a flicker of gratitude passing through him. At least someone acknowledged his humanity.

"Indeed," Amir chimed in, desperation lacing his voice. "We meant no disrespect. Your situation does not diminish your elven nature in our eyes."

Astarion wasn’t sure what to say but was more than ready to move on from this conversation, so he resorted to his usual charm,in effort to mask the churning emotions within. "Water under the bridge” he offered, a touch of flippancy in his voice. "If anything, I'm flattered by all the attention."

The dinner continued in strained silence, broken only by the rhythmic clinking of silverware against porcelain. At least he didn’t have to force himself to eat solid food anymore.

He lifted the goblet of blood to his nose, it smelled incredible – fresh and full bodied. With a single, deliberate gulp, he drank. It coursed through his veins, igniting a warmth that spread from his core to his extremities. He felt lighter, happier until a chilling realization dawned on him. This wasn’t just any blood, it was the blood of a thinking creature.

Every instinct in him screamed to drain the goblet completely, the primal hunger a roaring beast awakened from its slumber. But the nagging question in his mind wouldn’t leave him alone. How far had they gone for this?

He lifted his gaze to Amir, his voice laced with a nonchalance he didn't quite feel. “This…vintage, was it…” he paused unsure how to phrase his question. A flicker of understanding crossed Amir's face and he was quick to answer “ They are well on their way home and very generously compensated.”

Astarion wasn’t sure why he felt relief at his words. They killed practically every day during their adventure, yet the thought that another regular unsuspecting person could have lost their life because of him churned his stomach.

He drained the rest of his cup happily as Amir continued. "We have more, of course. Please, do enjoy the food as well. We have several types of blood sausage – the blood used is strictly from livestock, naturally."

A strange mix of emotions washed over Astarion as he stared at his plate. People didn’t usually go out of their way for his comfort. Deliria’s family had put a lot of effort in their attempt to accommodate him, yet he felt increasingly uneasy.

He speared a piece of sausage with his fork and brought it to his mouth quickly. It tasted close to animal blood, satisfying but far from tasty. It couldn’t compare at all to the delicious blood from his cup. And the texture was still revolting.

"May I try some?" Deliria leaned in, her eyes sparkling with curiosity. Astarion smiled to himself, she truly had an adventurous palate for a noble.  Without thinking he took another piece with his fork and presented it to her. She took a bite, and a look of pure delight bloomed on her face.

"Gods," she breathed, "this is really good."

At least someone was enjoying the meal. She looked rather adorable like this with her mouth full and a blissful expression gracing her features.

Without thinking he reached to offer another piece, then paused, noticing a pair of wide, curious eyes staring rather dreamily at him at him. Two little girls, with Deliria's unmistakable dark curls and bright eyes, peeked out from behind the table opposite him.

“And would you like a piece, little darlings?” he teased which was immediately met with embarrassed squeaks and hiding behind their mother.

Kelran shot him a glare which Astarion pretended not to notice.

"Seems they've taken quite a shine to you," Deliria murmured in his ear, a hint of amusement in her voice.

“Can you blame them? They’ve clearly got good taste.” He smirked at her.

A slow smile spread across Deliria's face. "Indeed they do," she whispered, her gaze locking with his.

He preened a little at the compliment, his ego basking in her attention. But a sudden question from Sarlen shattered the comfortable moment.

"Astarion, I can't help but think you look familiar. Have we met before?"

Panic surged in him for a moment and his first instinct was to try and recall if he'd ever lain with the man before him. But then reason prevailed. If he had, the man would be long dead by now.

"I don't believe we have. You must be mistaken," he replied, his voice steady despite the turmoil within.

"No, I don't think I often come across people with your features.” Deliria's brother pressed, his curiosity piqued. “Say, what did you do before you were abducted by the Nautiloid?"

Astarion's breath caught in his throat. His vampirism was already public knowledge, but discussing his past under Cazador was out of the question. "I was a magistrate, back in the Lower City," he mumbled.

Sarlen's eyes widened in recognition. "That's it!" he boomed, a triumphant note coloring his voice. "Two hundred and ten years ago, our paths crossed! I got arrested for fighting in the Blushing Mermaid—ouch!" He yelped as his wife smacked the back of his head.  "You were assigned my case. I was a youth back then and pretty terrified after getting arrested. You gave the other guy half a month in prison but somehow let me go with a fine."

Astarion listened intently, his mind a whirlwind of confusion, unable to recall anything about that ruling or ever meeting this person before.

"The brawl got out of hand, and the guy and his buddies pinned it all on me, including the destruction of property," Sarlen continued. "After the ruling, you pulled me aside and said that if I was planning on fighting again, I should make sure I didn't get caught. And that I should always aim at their crotch if I'm outmatched."

Now that sounded more like something he’d say.

“I thought you were amazing.” Sarlen exclaimed, a touch of awe coloring his voice. "I even considered pursuing a career in law after that encounter."

It was so strange hearing stories about himself that he couldn't remember, stories about the man he used to be. The one who laid dead and buried for so long, the one he wasn’t sure he could ever be again.

But he didn’t need to be him. He just needed to be himself, find out who he was now.

“I always aim to leave a lasting impression.” Astarion replied with his signature playful smirk "If you didn't follow through with law, then what did you pursue? What line of work did you end up in?"

The conversation flowed from there, a meandering stream of questions and answers. He learned about the brothers' various pursuits, their roles in upholding the family's legacy. He found himself answering questions he'd never considered, sharing opinions he didn't know he held. It was uncomfortable, terrifying, albeit strangely liberating. Deliria, perched beside him, watched the exchange with a mix of amusement and a hint of pride that warmed Astarion more than any blood ever could, even if it was rather embarrassing.

A dangerous thought crept into his mind. Perhaps, just perhaps, he could find a place for himself in this world, in this family. But the idea was quickly dismissed, he could never truly belong. And yet, the desire to do so burned brighter than ever before.

He maintained his facade of charm, but now it was laced with at least some honesty. Of course, any sensitive questions were still swiftly deflected or glossed over with practiced ease.

"So, how did the two of you lovebirds meet?" Sarlen inquired, his gaze flickering between Astarion and Deliria.  

This was one of those questions.

It hung in the air, Astarion hesitated and Deliria stepped in, her voice light and carefree “We met on the beach after the Nautiloid crashed.”

He wasn’t ashamed of how they’d met, at the time it seemed reasonable to think she’d be working with his kidnappers, seeing as she was freely walking the ship and he was never the type to try simple diplomacy, but it hardly made a romantic story worthy of writing in the novels.

One of the younger girls, with the same mischievous glint in her eyes as Deliria, leaned forward, clearly hungry for details. “And when did he tell you he likes you?”

He could see himself getting along with the little gossip splendidly.

"Yes, tell us!" the girl's mother piped in, her eyes sparkling with a yearning for a good love story. “It must have been quite the adventure, looking out for one another.”

Both caught unprepared, Astarion and Deliria exchanged a helpless glance. 

Now this was the part he was actually ashamed of and had no clue what to say. That he’d invited her over to his tent in the first week after meeting her?  That in the Shadowlands he’d confessed to lying and manipulating her after sleeping together for months? That it was only after his master had been killed that he told her he loved her and wanted a future together?

"It was a slow burn," Deliria began, her voice soft. " He had a way of making me laugh, even when things were at their darkest. We grew to depend on each other, and over time we started caring for one another deeply.”  She turned to him, her eyes filled with a warmth and he was sure if his heart still beat it surely would have skipped one just then.

 "And he's quite the flirt too," she added with a playful wink.

The younger girls exchanged sceptical glances. This clearly wasn't the grand, sweeping romance they'd envisioned. Deliria, ever the performer, continued with the worst over-the-top theatrical acting she could muster "And of course, he pulled me into his arms telling me I was the most beautiful woman he'd ever laid eyes on! A vision of breathtaking perfection!"

Astarion couldn't hold back a chuckle, which he was quick to hide behind a raised cup. "Naturally," he muttered, the corner of his mouth still twitching.

Sighs and giggles could be heard from the captivated audience before Deliria’s father spoke up "You mentioned the beach," he said, his brow furrowed "But how did you manage to walk in the sunlight?"

Ah,another difficult question. Despite trying to come to terms with the fact he could no longer walk in the sun, Astarion still found it hard to talk about.

“The tadpole had temporarily granted me the ability to walk in daylight.” He said bitterly.

Shock rippled through the room. Amir’s eyes widened in awe. "Incredible," he breathed, "Such powerful magic!"

Astarion grimaced inwardly. He’d witnessed a far greater display of power as well. He took another sip of the blood, the rich flavour a stark contrast to the heavy atmosphere.

"We’ll find another way for him to walk in the sun again," Deliria added, her voice filled with determination.

She sounded so certain and he found himself believing her despite the odds being against them. “We’ll travel. The world is a vast place, we’re bound to find something sooner or later.”

A momentary silence descended upon the room before being broken by Kelran  “But you just came back! What do you mean you're leaving already?!”

“I mean it’s time I live my own life, brother.” Deliria said not bothering to look up from her meal.

“You were just saying how you almost died out there! It’s too dangerous to be wandering the lands like a common merchant, Deliria.” Her brother kept arguing.

“We’ll keep each other safe as we have for the last four months.” She finally looked up at him “And I’m not a common merchant, brother, I’m a hero of Baldur’s Gate, or have you forgotten who was up there fighting the brain less than a tenday ago?”

Astarion relaxed in his seat, quietly observing the scene unfolding before him. He’d always loved a touch of drama and watching Deliria rub their successes in her brother’s face was quality entertainment indeed.

Kelran grit his teeth, not ready to let the topic drop “How could I forget? Do you have any idea how worried we were when we read of your actions in the newsletters?”

Her eyes softened a bit “No, I do not. But it’s not like I had a choice. We were fighting to survive.”

“But you’re not now! Why don’t you stay here where it’s safe? “

“It’s not safer here than anywhere, brother. There is a murder cult in the very sewers for gods’ sake.” She sighed “We wish to see the rest of the world and everything it can offer.”

Amir spoke up interrupting at last“If this is what you wish, then do so but know that you both are always welcome here and please do visit more often, four months is a terribly long time.”

“We will father, I promise.” Deliria reassured much calmer now.

It was a pity that the family drama was resolved so quickly but at the same time Astarion was glad things ended peacefully. Especially when deep down he had the feeling he would be blamed for taking Deliria away. But she was her own person, capable of making her own decisions and if she said this is what she truly wanted, then he trusted she meant it. He just wished he understood why in the hells would she want to leave all of this behind to travel with him when he couldn’t even walk in the sun anymore.

After dinner Astarion found himself alone in Deliria’s bedchambers as she’d gone to catch up with the staff.  Her living quarters weren’t anything how he’d imagined . The walls and ceiling were decorated with flowers in excess, frills, lace and velvet adoring almost every surface. Taking a stroll around ,he couldn’t resist the temptation to open one of her wardrobes. He was welcomed with waves of red velvet and white silk, each dress expertly hand embroidered with intricate patterns and designs he had never seen before, no doubt this was the latest fashion in Baldur’s Gate. It was a world away from the hues he associated with her.

He sat on the edge of the sumptuous settee, the soft, luxurious cushions sinking beneath him.

Here amongst her things, amongst the life she'd led he felt so foreign, like a thing that doesn't belong. A former courtesan vampire spawn in a patriar's home. The pillow he was sitting on cost more than all of his belongings combined. But then again, he'd probably never fit into any home.

But somehow it didn’t feel like she’d fit in this space either.

Deliria entered the room, her presence filling the space with warmth. "How do you find my chambers, love?" she asked as she strolled towards him.

She thought he’d make himself at home by now but he looked more awkward than she’d ever seen him despite trying to fake nonchalance.

"The décor is immaculate, I expected nothing less from you, my dear," he replied, but she could tell he was holding back something.

Deliria's playful smile dipped slightly. “I feel like there’s a but coming on.”

He hesitated, searching for the right words. "It's lovely here truly. But I couldn't help but think it doesn't quite seem like you."

A warmth bloomed in her chest as she realized the depth of his perception. He really knew her. "You're not wrong," she admitted, a thoughtful expression replacing her playful one. Settling beside him, she continued, " Growing up in nobility, my life revolved around appearances and connections. There wasn't much room for personal growth. Expanding the family's influence, currying favor with other nobles, and keeping tabs on the social elite – that was my role and what was expected of me. But then father allowed me to practice sorcery, and that became my escape. It was liberating, incredibly so." Her voice softened as she flexed her fingers, a faint magical luminescence emanating from them.

Astarion listened intently, a pang of empathy twisting in his gut.  She'd been a caged bird, albeit a gilded one. Yet, she'd found an outlet, a way to explore a world beyond the stifling confines of her upbringing.

"Despite the horrors and the hardships we faced ,our journey showed me just how amazing the world can be," she continued, her eyes sparkling with excitement. " I can hardly wait to leave tomorrow."

Astarion stood, his gaze fixed on her. A mischievous glint appeared in his eyes as an idea formed in his mind. "Darling, would you like to slip away with me for a moment? We won't be gone for long, I promise."

Surprise flickered across Deliria's face, quickly replaced by a spark of curiosity. Taking his hand, she replied, "Of course. Lead the way."

Moved swiftly through the moonlit streets, they’d reached the gargantuan monstrosity of a building faster than he would have liked. He had returned to the heart of darkness, to the place where his nightmare had begun. Despite the fact he knew Cazador was well and truly dead, some part of him still felt as if he’d open the doors and see him, standing as if nothing had happened.

“Is this… Cazador’s mansion?” Deliria asked confused.

“Ah, yes, most of it is situated here in the Upper City, amongst the great and the good of Baldur's Gate." Astarion replied, his tone laced with bitterness.

Ignoring the chilling atmosphere, he pushed past the foreboding entrance.

It appeared empty, hollow, not a single candle lit and a faint echo of the wind could be heard down the corridor. Dust motes waltzed in the air, undisturbed.   He stood on edge regardless. This part of the estate wasn’t much different than the one they’ve visited. Cazador was never one to account for taste.

A shiver ran down his spine as he recalled the horrors he'd endured within these very walls, he never thought he’d be back again. Yet, a nagging feeling remained, leaving him restless. He had to see it one least time before leaving to know that it was truly over. And while he felt himself calm at the sight of the empty palace, there was one more thing he felt he had to do.

As they ventured deeper into the mansion, Astarion felt a strange sense of déjà vu. Each corner, each shadow held a fragment of the nightmare he had endured, yet there was also a sense of detachment, as if he were observing the events from a distance.

He stopped before a familiar cabinet, his fingers tracing the intricate carvings on the wooden doors. With a practiced flick of his wrist, he opened it, revealing a collection of gleaming bottles. A sardonic smile played on his lips. He hadn't forgotten Cazador's ostentatious displays of wealth – endless bottles of fine wines meant to impress, not to be savored.

Astarion took a bottle from the shelf, uncorked it with a flourish and took a long, defiant swig, the potent liquid burning a path down his throat.  The taste, as expected, was acrid like vinegar and Astarion sighed. It didn’t matter, he didn’t intend to use it for drinking anyway.  He offered the bottle to Deliria, a mischievous glint in his eye. The gesture held a playful echo of their past shared nights and she smiled in recognition.

Taking back the bottle he doused the furniture with the wine as they made their way through the corridor.

He pulled aside the heavy drapes separating the hallways, their texture rough against his fingertips. These hideous things, constantly shrouded in dust, had always filled him with a sense of suffocation. He poured more wine over the fabric, the liquid soaking in readily. With a whispered command, "Ignis," the flame erupted and slowly began to climb to the ceiling. He watched it spread for a moment before reaching for the other and doing the same.

Deliria followed him silently as he descended the stairs, their footsteps echoing through the cavernous mansion, each bringing him closer to closure. Now, only the crackling of flames would break the silence.

He set fire to hideous paintings he despised and the books that were once his only company, each blaze a symbolic purging of a memory he no longer wished to hold onto.

Being there mostly made him feel numb, that is until they reached the kennels. The sight of Godey’s tool bench filled him with a sense of fear anew before a surge of anger took over, a white-hot fury that demanded release.

He unleashed a torrent of firebolts, the magical projectiles singing every surface but not strong enough to start a fire. Deliria, sensing his escalating emotions, placed a gentle hand on his shoulder before thrusting a small stack of scrolls in his arms. Parchment inscribed with arcane symbols; each one dedicated to unleashing destruction. He had no idea where she’d been keeping them but it was hardly surprising she’d have such a stash upon her person at all times, she’d always been prone to hoarding.

It was a blur after that as they set every room on fire. He took special pleasure in setting the guest room ablaze and further fuelling the inferno by throwing Cazador’s vintage wine at it.

Unlike their harrowing escape weeks ago, this felt like a triumph – a final act of defiance against the monster who had stolen his life.  As the flames engulfed the ballroom, a sense of peace settled over Astarion, a weight lifting from his shoulders. This was the end of an era, the oppressive weight of the past was being consumed by the fire, leaving him free to forge a new path.

The heat grew intense, the air thick with smoke that stung his eyes. His throat felt drier than usual and he fought the urge to cough. If the dark cloud gathering in the room was any indication, it probably wasn't good for them to stay there much longer. He didn't need to breathe, but Deliria did. He looked to her urgently only to see her standing perfectly fine, seemingly unaffected by the blazing inferno around them.

A primal urge, a spark ignited by the flickering flames and the shared act of destruction, compelled Astarion to act. He cupped Deliria's face and pulled her close, their lips meeting in a kiss that was as sudden as it was fierce.

The world narrowed to the press of her body against his. The taste of smoke and ash lingered on her lips making Astarion push his tongue into her mouth, chasing her sweetness underneath it.

Deliria, surprised at first, quickly melted into his touch. Despite the heat radiating from the flames, a shiver ran down her spine as his hand explored the curve of her hip. The raw, desire emanating from him was irresistible and she found herself responding to his every ministration eagerly, trying to touch everywhere she could reach.

He’d dreaded bedding anyone again in this place but he was done waiting to go after what he wanted, waiting to live. And right now he wanted her,fully and entirely.

His fingers skimmed lower down her leg and over her thigh when a loud crack thundered overhead followed by a shower of debris as the tacky chandelier crashed behind them and broke into a dozen pieces.

“Why is it that every time we make love something ends up getting destroyed?”  he giggled into her mouth.

A dark blush colored her cheeks and he fumbled catching his slip up, he hadn’t exactly used those words before even if he did occasionally think them.

“That is- I mean only if you’re open to having some fun,darling.”

“I’d really like that.” She smiled reassuringly at him “But not here, this place is falling apart.”

A quick glance up confirmed a section of the ceiling was beginning to collapse. Astarion pulled back, his eyes darting around the room, searching for an escape route.

With a surge of adrenaline, he grabbed Deliria's hand and pulled her towards the nearest exit.  They burst through the towering windows onto the balcony, their bodies tangled and breathless.

Astarion pressed her against the railing and wasting no time, dropped to his knees in front of her.

She seemed confused for a moment before her eyes widened with realization.

“Astarion, that’s- You don’t have to…” she protested weakly.

“Oh, but I was so hoping you’d indulge me, darling. I’m rather parched you see.” 

He said before pulling her skirt aside and hooking his fingers in the straps of her underwear. Despite his seductive dark tone, his eyes never left hers, awaiting her answer. She nodded and he removed her undergarments with one swift movement.

Deliria felt so strange being exposed like this in the open, after months in the wilderness and their night at the graveyard, she was still far from used to it. But he didn’t give her enough time to ponder the matter as he leaned in and dragged his tongue over her folds. She moaned loudly at the sudden rush of pleasure and gripped the railing. He dragged his tongue in broad swipes from her hole to her clit again and again, making her head blissfully hazy before suddenly leaning in and sucking onto her clit.

He drank her in like a man starved, plunging his tongue into her over and over, trying to taste as much of her as he could. When she started moving her hips against him, riding his face in small gentle movements, he knew she wouldn’t last long. With every soft sound she made and her aroma and flavour overwhelming his senses, he felt his own self-control faltering as well. His hard neglected member throbbed, uncomfortably trapped by his trousers against his thigh.

As nice as it would have been to bring her to bliss then and there, he had other plans to make her see stars.

She whined pitifully when he stopped, and he grinned impishly.

“Don’t worry, darling, I won’t leave you wanting for long. Why don’t you turn around for me?”

She stumbled forward, her hands grasping for the railing to steady her trembling legs. He stood and lowered his pants hissing in relief as he freed himself finally.

Teasing them both, he tilted his hips and slid his length against her slick entrance. 

“Are you ready my love?” he asked seductively, and she thought she herself might burst into flames.

Despite the lustful haze that was clouding her mind, she felt a pang of unease at not being able to see his face. She reached down to where his hand had gripped her hip and entwined her fingers with his. She’d have to trust him to tell her if things became too much.

“Ready.” She breathed and he quickly sheathed his entire length, releasing a deliciously beautiful moan that ignited her skin.

He began a hasty rhythm, taking her from behind and she tilted her hips back into him, arching her back and allowing him to move easily inside her.

“You’re always so greedy my love.” He tried to tease but his voice came rough as grovel. She felt glorious as he pumped into her, nothing but tight, blazing heat — wet, warm, wrapped around him like a glove.

Her thighs trembled as his member rubbed against her sweet spot with each thrust, leaving her thoughts blissfully blank. She was already so close, the pleasure heightening with every movement spreading through her with startling intensity. She had no doubt if he touched her clit she’d reach ecstasy incredibly quickly. But she didn’t want to finish yet, not without him.

He heard people gather in the distance. It was hardly surprising given that there was a large fire raging in the centre of the city. However, there was no widespread fear in the voices, most likely because everyone was aware the castle was uninhabited.

And it meant soon Deliria and Astarion would come into full view even to those that couldn't see well in the dark. He wasn't too bothered though because as embarrassing as it was to admit it - they wouldn't be long. And he’d barely entered her. How the mighty have fallen he thought sardonically.

“Do you want to show them?” he asked and before she could understand what he was talking about he’d wrapped his arms around her and pulled her against his chest, her form fitting in his arms so perfectly.

“Where we are connected?”  He continued sultrily in her ear before finding her clit and teasing it.

She reached back, her free hand finding purchase on his thigh as she pressed their intertwined hands against her heart. Even as desire consumed him, the moment of tenderness struck his chest and he squeezed her hand in response.

True enough people were already looking their way, no doubt even if partially obscured it would be obvious what they were doing.

“Oh gods!” She whined, trying to hide her face in his neck as her heat gripped him savagely, and he had to bite his lip against the onslaught of pleasure.

Naughty thing.

Ever since their evening at the graveyard he had his suspicion that Deliria had developed a certain…taste for being watched during their activities. He wasn’t sure how he felt about it at first but was left surprised when he felt a thrill run though his own body at the prospect. He’d never felt particularly keen on strangers seeing him in compromising positions, but this time felt different somehow. He wasn’t there for them, he wasn’t putting on a show for them-  they were there to serve to his and lover’s pleasure.

“Hells, so tight-“ he gasped against her ear making her shiver.

He dipped his head to place long, sucking kisses down her long beautiful neck and breathe in the delicious scent of her. The alluring smell of her blood rushing underneath her skin was making his fangs itch to plunge into her. He’d already indulged plenty tonight but Deliria wasn’t the only greedy one among them.

She’d begun to flutter around him and he was desperate to make her reach bliss before him.

“Do you think they’d recognize their darling hero as she comes right before their very eyes?” he whispered as he licked a long stripe up her neck to her ear. His cold breath against her sent a wave of electricity down her spine.

“Please,Astarion,oh, Gods, I’m going to – ” she begged unsure for what but he sped up his thrusts anyway, uncaring how clumsy they’d both become.

She cried out as she came, clenching around him and his orgasm crashed over him like a tidal wave, his lips right next to her ear so she could hear every moan as he spent himself inside of her with deep, shuddering thrusts.

He lost himself in her. Her body and her blood engulfed him much like the flames did the palace. There were no thoughts, just bliss, just her.

As the pleasure began to ebb it started to sink in what they’d just done and how the eager crowd under them kept gathering. He felt everything slow down as he stared down from the balcony before he felt two hands grip his cheeks forcing his gaze upwards and was met with two soft turquoise eyes. 

"I love you, so much," she said, each word heavy with unwavering conviction, a desperate plea for him to hear, to truly believe.

The weight of her love hit him like a physical force, a radiant warmth that chased away the lingering chill of his past. It felt as though the world had shrunk to just the two of them, a bubble of serenity amidst the surrounding mayhem. He locked eyes with her, their depths reflecting the flickering flames – so green, so gentle - and a soft smile tugged at the corners of his lips. "I love you too, darling," he whispered back, his voice thick with emotion. He leaned in, their lips meeting in a slow lingering kiss and she wrapped her arms around him, holding him ever so gently, like he was something precious to be cherished.

Finally separating after what felt like an eternity she sighed contently against his lips, "Are you ready to go home, love?" she asked, her voice a gentle caress.

“Yes, I believe so.” He said adjusting his clothes but the question of how hung heavy in the air.  Before he could voice his concern, he saw a glint of mischief in her eyes.

"No! No, absolutely not!" he protested, already dreading the proposition forming on her lips. He knew that look all too well – the prelude to another one of her "shortcuts."

“It will just be a quick flight down.”  she reassured him, a playful lilt in her voice. As if on cue, a pair of magnificent leathery wings erupted from her back, shimmering in the moonlight.  This wasn't the first time Astarion had found himself at the mercy of her unique flying abilities, and the memory did little to quell his apprehension.

"Ugh, this is so humiliating," he grumbled, nevertheless stepping closer to the balcony ledge, bracing himself for the inevitable descent.

A laugh bubbled up from Deliria's chest. "Oh, come on, it's not that bad! Think of it as riding a dragon," she encouraged, positioning herself beside him.

"Hmm, I am somewhat of an expert at that by now," he teased, a mischievous glint in his eyes mirroring hers and a blush crept up Deliria's cheeks.

“You know what? You’re right, I’m sure you can find another way home.”   She challenged and his eyes widened.

"Alright, don't be hasty now, darling." he exclaimed, throwing his hands up in mock surrender.

She rolled her eyes but smiled anyway before taking his hands in hers and stepping off the ledge and into the cool embrace of the night sky.