#My eyes are so puffy i look hideous

[roosterforme]

Yours Truly, Bradley Bradshaw Part 19 | Rooster x Reader

Summary: With an uncertain future, Bradley gets ready to leave for Virginia. But he works on a plan to make sure you understand just how much he will be thinking about you.

Warnings: Fluff, smut, angst, adult banter, desperate Bradley, 18+

Length: 5400 words

Pairing: Bradley "Rooster" Bradshaw x Female teacher!Reader

Check out my masterlist for more! Yours Truly, Bradley Bradshaw masterlist

Bradley felt sick to his stomach as soon as he saw the stationery set. At this point, the only thing on his mind was quitting his job so the two of you didn't have to be separated. The paper looked expensive; he would have loved to sit in his bunk and write line after line to you and your class, but he wouldn't be able to do that at all. 

"We can go back to being pen pals for a bit," you whispered, your hand coming to rest on his thigh, giving him a little squeeze. "I'll be refreshing my email inbox and waiting not so patiently for my mail to arrive. It'll be great. That's how I fell in love with you in the first place."

He felt guilty even though he had no control over the scenario. His heart hurt with loneliness already as he set the gift you gave him on the coffee table and buried his face in his hands. "Gorgeous. That's not gonna happen." He swallowed past the lump in his throat and turned to look at you out of the corner of his eye.

"I'm confused," you said, hand still on his leg. He covered your fingers with his rougher ones and pulled gently until you climbed onto his lap. 

"Oh, god," he groaned, giving you a kiss before linking his fingers with yours. "I love that set of note cards. I would have taken them with me everywhere during my free time, and I would have written to your class constantly. And you would have been the recipient of some rambling love notes to be sure." Your brow was still creased with concern as he said, "No outside communication. For seven weeks."

Your expression went slack as a single tear rolled down your cheek. "You're joking."

"I'm not."

Bradley held onto your fingers as you whispered, "This keeps getting worse," through more tears. Your broken voice made his chest ache as you leaned closer until your cheek was resting on his shoulder. "I could go ages without you in person, but if I can't talk to you at all... Bradley."

Nobody else ever loved him the way you did. He'd be miserable without your letters, emails, dirty pictures and pretty face over video calls, but he finally had someone who would miss him equally. 

"I know," he muttered, wrapping his arms around you. "It's seven weeks of nothing."

You were crying in earnest now as you clung to him. "Nothing," you sobbed. "I won't even know if I'm supposed to collect you in San Diego or Norfolk when your deployment ends. And I won't know where you're being stationed."

"Fuck," he gasped. "Gorgeous, when I tell you that nobody would have much cared where I ended up before I met you, I mean it." He kissed you as you snuggled tighter against him. "As soon as I find out what's going on, I'll let you know."

"Seriously," you murmured, voice shaky. "You better tell me as soon as possible if it's San Diego or Norfolk in my future."

Bradley didn't know what else to say besides, "I fucking love you." He smiled for the first time in what felt like weeks as he added, "Are you really going to fly out to Norfolk and collect me if they make me stay in Virginia?"

You pulled away from him, eyes puffy with a scandalized look on your face as you said, "Of course. What kind of girlfriend do you think I am?"

The kind he was going to upgrade to his wife.

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

When you finally stopped crying, you were on the verge of a migraine, but you felt a bit calmer. Bradley got up to gather together some Advil, a glass of water, and a small gift wrapped in hideous paper.

"Your early Christmas present," he said, handing it to you after you swallowed two pills for your headache. "Well, it's actually kind of another gift for me, when you really think about it." He dropped down onto the couch again with his arm slung around your shoulders, and unlike him, you tore into the paper. Inside was a leather journal with little hand painted airplanes all over it. "Will you write in it every day so I can read it when I see you again?"

When you opened it to the first page, he had written you a note.

Gorgeous, I miss you with my whole heart. I can't wait to read about all of your adventures when I get home to you. Love, Bradley

"Yes," you whispered, closing it again so you could wrap your arms around his waist. "It'll just be a bunch of pages of me telling you how I argued with Jayden about his sloppy handwriting and how I asked Nia a hundred times to return to her seat. But yes, I'll write in it every day for you."

"I will eat up every page."

After that, he kept you by his side for the rest of the night. Even when you tried to dig around in the refrigerator to see if there was any food left, he was grabbing for you and kissing you. "You have no food," you said with a laugh, turning to face him. "What are we eating for dinner?"

"Hadn't thought that far," he muttered against your lips. "Just want you."

You took his face in your hands and ran your thumb along his scars. "If you don't eat, you'll get cranky. And you've got aircraft carrier food in your future."

Bradley grimaced and muttered, "Cabbage rolls," as he reached for his phone. "Let's get pizza today. And then maybe I'll try to talk the hostess at Salvatore's into letting us get takeout tomorrow. Then Thai on Christmas."

"And then you'll be gone," you whispered, dreading it all over again. "It never gets any easier, does it?"

"You're stuck with me, Gorgeous," he said, voice tinged with the tiniest bit of apprehension.

"I am." You kissed him before you said, "Pizza sounds perfect. Then I can help you pack a little more."

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

The last thing Bradley wanted to do was finish packing his duffle, but every time you looked up at him, eyes full of emotion, he was struck by several things. One, you really were so good at folding up his uniform components, something he noticed a few days ago. Two, every minute or so, you wrapped your arms around him, which made leaving with uncertainty so much harder. And three, you were absolutely nothing like Vanessa. 

Last time when he packed to leave, he was treated to her incessant whining over the fact that he didn't want to take her out to dinner. She was always annoyed with him wanting a quiet night in. She was always annoyed by his job. It was so obvious that she never missed him or loved him the way you did as he watched you carefully fold one of his flight suits before tucking it in his bag. 

"Gorgeous," he murmured, and as soon as your gaze met his, you had your arms wrapped around him again.

"That's enough for the night," you whispered, voice thick with emotion as he kissed the top of your head. Your face was pressed against his chest, and he could hear you trying to keep yourself calm. And god, he hated doing this to both of you. 

"I agree," he replied, keeping you close while he tossed a few novels he'd been meaning to read in as well. He'd have plenty of time to read a whole stack.

You wiped your eyes on his shirt as you said, "Make sure you read at night and stay away from all the women."

Bradley tipped your chin up so you were looking at him again. "Surely you're not worried about that." You shook your head. "Good. But now that we're on the topic... be a good girl and don't talk to horny assholes."

You started laughing as you slipped out of his grasp, wiping at your tears as you said, "Never. Now let me add one more thing to your bag." As you disappeared from the bedroom, Bradley put his bag on the top of his dresser. If he had time, he would move some of his clothing around so you had room for your things when your lease was up. Otherwise you were going to have to fend for yourself in his house and just make decisions for him. If he just had more time with you, everything would be easier. The one promising thing would be returning in time for Valentine's Day and Career Day at your school. If he was allowed to come back to San Diego at all.

"Fuck," he groaned, hating this unsettled feeling that was expanding in his chest, but as soon as you walked back in, he started to feel better. Seven weeks without you was going to be painful when he had such a visceral reaction to your touch and your words.

"Just in case you feel like jotting down your own thoughts every day for me to read," you said before tucking the stationery kit in next to his uniforms. You slid a large envelope that looked like it was bursting at the seams inside as well and simply said, "Some more reading material for you," before pulling him toward the bed.

And that's when Bradley figured out just how to make you feel a little less alone when he was in the middle of the Atlantic Ocean.

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

When you opened your eyes on Christmas Eve, you were already smiling. Your body was warm and tucked up against Bradley's, his big, heavy arm draped over you as he snored softly. You wanted to stay here and not move a muscle, because right now, everything was perfect. You could pretend like his duffle bag wasn't sitting on his dresser, mostly packed and ready to go. You could melt into the sweet ache deep inside from the hour he spent loving your body last night. You could close your eyes and go back to sleep.

Bradley's phone vibrated on his nightstand, and he groaned next to your ear. "Baby," he murmured, lips grazing your neck. "Don't get up yet."

You couldn't help but smile. "Your phone is vibrating. Not mine."

"Shit," he grunted, rolling away from you. Once he looked at his phone screen he seemed to wake up. "Nat's on her way to pick you up for girls' day."

"What are you talking about?"

You definitely hadn't planned a girls' day. Why would you want to miss out on any time with Bradley right now? You could have a day with Nat next week or next month when he was gone!

He had a little smile on his face as he pulled you close again for a kiss. "You better get dressed."

"Bradley! I'm not going out with Nat. You're leaving in two days!"

Naked and spectacular, he climbed out of bed and stretched. "Just for a bit. She wants to take you to get coffee, and if she tries to get me a Christmas present, I need you to make sure it doesn't suck." 

"You planned this," you said, annoyed as he reached for you, pulling you away from the bed where you could pretend there was no scary uncertainty in your future.

"Just trust me," he whispered, holding you close. "Besides, I need some time to sweet talk someone at Salvatore's into letting me order dinner to-go."

You could handle an hour or two with his best friend while you counted down the time you had left before his flight out of San Diego. "Fine, but I'm wearing your sweatshirt, and I'll be thinking about you the whole time."

Bradley sent you down the walkway with a kiss, and he waved from the front door in just his underwear as you climbed into his best friend's car. "I won't keep you out too long," Natasha promised with a smirk. "I can already tell you want to get back to him."

"Why did he plan this?" you asked, wanting the answers he wouldn't give you while trying not to be rude. "No offense, because I would love to spend an entire girls' day with you, but why today?"

She simply turned up the Christmas songs on the radio and headed toward Starbucks with a smile on her face. "I was thinking after coffee we could hit up the mall for a few minutes? I need to find something truly awful to get for Bradley. I'm thinking some pink running shorts to match mine. High visibility colors are very important when you're out running, and I just don't think he fully appreciates that."

You laughed. "If you buy them, he'll probably just wear them to try to embarrass you."

"I don't embarrass easily," she said smoothly with a devilish grin. "And dare I say you might like to pick out a little something that you could wear as a going away treat?"

"Wear?" you asked before you quite knew what she meant.

"Sure. I mean, I don't want to know any specifics about what the two of you get up to, because gross, but deployments are long and lonely, and you're definitely going to miss each other."

While Bradley had seen all of your cutest underwear at this point, you'd never worn anything that you bought specifically with him in mind. Your cheeks grew warm as you thought about it. Truthfully you didn't even own anything terribly sexy. 

"What would he even like?" you asked softly as she pulled into the Starbucks parking lot.

"On you?" she asked with a laugh. "Anything. Don't worry, we'll find something good."

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

When Natasha texted to inform him that you were on your way back to his house, Bradley quickly hid everything that had been out on his coffee table while he juggled his phone. The woman he was talking to on speakerphone wasn't falling for his lines at all.

"Listen," he told her, making sure there was no visible evidence of what he'd done in his living room. "I just really want tonight to be special for my girlfriend and I before I leave for my next deployment. Just one order of spaghetti and meatballs? That's all I'm asking."

There was a deep sigh followed by, "Be here promptly at 5:00 to pick it up. I'll take your credit card over the phone."

"Perfect," he replied with a smile, digging for his wallet. "The name is Bradley Bradshaw."

You walked in with shopping bags in your arms, and rushed toward him as he finished giving his credit card security code, and he pulled you in for a hug as he reassured the hostess from Salvatore's that he would be there at 5:00.

"Hi," he said, kissing you after he ended the call. "Did you have fun with Nat?

"So much fun," you told him with a smile. "We're going to try out a wine bar next week up in Oceanside." The idea of you hanging out with his friend while he was away made him feel calm, especially since Nat knew how important you were to him. "Also," you said, pressing your lips together nervously, "I think I'd like to sleep here for the rest of my winter break." Your volume dropped to a whisper. "I'm not sure if it will make me miss you more or less, but I want to be here if that's okay with you."

"I love that, Gorgeous," he replied easily. Hanging out with Natasha and then returning to his house where you belonged anyway felt right to him. "Knowing you're sleeping in my bed might result in some dirty notes from me," he said with a laugh as you bit your lip.

"Please," you whispered. "Yes. Write me dirty notes to read when you get back." Just when he was about to kiss you, he watched you bend and rummage around in a bag. "Also, this is your gift from Natasha." You handed him some bright pink fabric that he turned around in his hands, trying to figure out what it was. "And she told me to hold up the gift receipt for you."

When he finally figured out that it was a pair of ladies running shorts, he grimaced. "She's so annoying," he groaned, reaching for the gift receipt, but you quickly chuckled and tore it up. "What are you doing?"

"You're not allowed to return them." You dropped the bits of paper, and he tossed the shorts onto the couch.

"Whose side are you on here?" he asked, peppering your face with kisses. "Don't think for a second I won't just put a jock strap on and run in those shorts."

"I tried to tell her you would," you laughed as he scooped you up. "I kind of want to see it."

"Play your cards right," he murmured, grabbing his keys and taking you out to his Bronco. "Let's pick up dinner."

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

Your belly was full of spaghetti and meatballs when you managed to sneak away to the tiny laundry room and quickly hand wash your new bra and thong set while Bradley loaded the dishwasher. Nat assured you that he would enjoy this tiny thing, and you were trusting her here. You set both items aside to dry before walking back out to the kitchen.

"You don't have a Christmas tree," you remarked, wishing you'd picked one up today from one of the many parking lots trying to unload them at the last minute.

"I told you I don't really celebrate holidays."

"You're doing a great job of celebrating this one."

He washed his hands and tossed the towel aside. It was barely seven o'clock, but he asked, "You feel like calling it an early night?" You agreed, ready to feel his warmth along your entire body as you fell asleep.

You got undressed and climbed in bed, and he did the same. Bradley's hands were everywhere, but his lips were gentle on your neck and shoulder as he whispered your name. "I love you. It's going to kill me inside when I can't talk to my favorite pen pal. Last time, you had my heart pounding every time you sent me a new email."

Tears stung your eyes in the darkness; you'd done a pretty good job of holding it together all day, but this was going to be your undoing. "I promise, every time you think about me, I'll already be thinking about you, too."

Bradley's arm tightened around you, his thumb stroking your skin, soothing you along with his sweet words as you fell asleep.

When you woke up on Christmas Day, his body was still right behind yours where he belonged, but when you rolled over to look at his handsome face, you knew the hours were going to go by too quickly. "Morning, Gorgeous," he murmured, voice raspy from sleep as he cracked his eyes open. "Let's go see what Santa brought."

You didn't have any other gifts for him, unless you counted your new lingerie which you were saving for later after dinner. And the printer you bought so he could have some photos of you without his phone on the aircraft carrier. But when you got out to the living room, there was an envelope on the coffee table.

"What is it?" you asked cautiously as you picked it up. But your heart melted immediately. It was a gift card for the wine bar in Oceanside.

"There's enough on there for you and Nat to take a few trips up if you like the place."

"The two of you have been plotting, I see," you remarked, taking a deep breath before snuggling up against his chest. "But nothing will beat the horribly expensive bottle of wine I accidentally made you buy on our second date."

Deep laughter rumbled through Bradley's chest as he said, "The look on your face just made me love you more." You groaned thinking about it. "Come on, we've only got one day left and then seven weeks of nothing. Let's make French toast and have sex on the couch and eat Thai food and watch movies."

You wore his sweatshirt around all day, licked maple syrup from his lip and rode him until he was whining for you. The Thai noodles went perfectly with Home Alone. Then you took a shower together and deep conditioned his hair, dragging your nails along his scalp until his eyes closed.

"I'm going to miss this," he whispered after every single thing you did. When you toweled his hair dry, he looked at you with so much emotion. "I'm going to call you as soon as I know what's going on with the Pacific versus Atlantic Fleet. And either way, I'll try to be as patient as I possibly can, but I can't live without you, Baby."

"Bradley."

"Shit. Even the way you say my name makes me ache."

"I want you here with me. I already hate this." A sob escaped your lips without warning. "I want you to come back for Career Day."

The words were barely out of your mouth before he said, "I will be here for Career Day no matter what. Disappointing you is bad enough, but I don't want the eighteen kiddos to miss out on spending the day with their favorite Naval officer."

You laughed. "You're not disappointing me, Bradley. This is just hard, because I love you so much."

If you couldn't see a future with him, this would have been easier. He set you down on the bathroom vanity, and you watched him carefully shave around his mustache, kissing you randomly so you had to wipe shaving cream from your nose, and then he started collecting his toiletries for his duffle bag. He was naked and perfect as you stayed huddled in your towel, wondering if you could even manage to pull off wearing the items that were surely dry now and draped over his laundry room sink.

"Where are you going?" he asked as you ducked past him toward the door.

"Meet me in bed."

You rushed down the hallway and threw your towel in the empty washing machine as you took a minute to touch the pretty lace fabric before sliding the thong up your legs. Next you hooked the bra in place, and it didn't matter if you didn't look perfect, because you felt good. And you wanted him to have this memory.

When you cautiously strolled into the bedroom, Bradley was still naked, laying on top of the bedding, looking at a small piece of paper. "I'm just double checking my packing list, and I..." His gaze shifted to your body, and you did a little turn for him. The paper drifted to the floor as he sat up, his hand coming to rest on his cock. "Come here."

Biting your lip, you did as you were told. Bradley's feet swung over the edge of the bed, coming to rest on the floor as his cock bobbed between his thick thighs. "Here I am," you whispered, standing between his knees with your hands on his shoulders. "Your going away gift."

One strong arm wrapped around you, and you squeaked as he pulled you flush against him. He kissed the rounded tops of your breasts above your new bra, one after the other before looking up at you. "What did I do to deserve this?" he rasped, his nose running along the lace as his fingers tangled in your thong.

Already so turned on, you tried to answer him twice before words came out. "I wanted to give you a proper send off. Something extra special." Then he kissed your furled nipples through the flimsy bra cups and you moaned, "Something to think about when you're lonely."

His fingers were digging into your butt as he grunted. His wide brown eyes were fixed on your face as he parted his lips and sucked on your breast, the black lace wet everywhere now. He was being a little rough, but it felt like he was worshipping you at the same time, and when his lip found your neck, he asked, "Is this little getup new?"

"I bought it yesterday," you gasped as his fingers slipped inside your thong, stroking your wet pussy. "Just for you."

Then you were on your back with your head on the pillow, Bradley's heavy cock resting against your thigh as he hovered over you. "Just for me, huh?" he grunted, biceps flexed as he fought to keep his breathing under control.

You nodded, running your toes up along his calf and thigh until your leg was hooked around his hip, ready to give him whatever he wanted. "Of course it's just for you. I'll wear it again when we meet back in the San Diego airport or in Norfolk. And I'll wear it when you're away and I'm touching myself."

"Fuck," he growled, pulling your panties to the side and running his cock through your wetness before pushing himself so deep inside you that it took your breath away. When you whimpered, his lips crashed against yours as his hands dug beneath you to unhook your bra. "Touch yourself right now." When the flimsy lace ended up on the floor while Bradley fucked you, he guided your right hand to his lips, kissing your fingertips before placing them on your breast. "I want to watch."

Bradley's pupils were wide, lips parted. When you looked down your body as his cock disappeared inside you over and over again, you felt even more turned on. When you ran your fingers along your nipple and up between your bouncing breasts, his eyes followed your every move. "Like this?" you asked, feeling bold as you added your left hand as well.

He gave you a harder thrust. "Exactly like that, Gorgeous. And what are you going to think about when you do?"

"My boyfriend," you managed before his mouth met yours in a deep kiss that only lasted a few seconds. "I'm going to think about my boyfriend. I'll miss you so much."

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

Bradley's hips slowed to a gentler pace as he listened to you gasping and panting beneath him. There was no way you'd miss him as much as he'd miss you. He closed his eyes and thought about returning home to your arms in seven weeks and heading back to work in the Pacific Fleet. He hoped you'd appreciate the little surprises he was leaving behind for you. More than anything he wanted you to think about tonight when you got yourself off.

His rough excitement at you in the new lingerie melted into something sweeter as he fucked you with long, languid strokes. Your lips were on his neck and collarbones as he whispered how much he loved you over and over. When you came, it escalated quickly, sudden and loud as he ran his thumb across your clip. He couldn't hold on after that, and he let your body hold him in place with soft squeezes as he caught his breath.

"I have one more thing for you to pack," you whispered, voice ragged as you ran your fingers through his hair.

"I really hope you fit in my duffle," he mused, and you laughed softly.

You kissed his ear and whispered, "I bought a small photo printer since you won't be able to use your phone." He shivered at your words. "You can print out a photo or two of us together... or maybe you want to take a new one right now to print out?"

"Jesus," he grunted, kissing your lips. "You're spoiling me." He reached for his phone on the nightstand and snapped a few pictures of your fucked out face and your body with his cock still buried deep. "I am very spoiled."

When you stood and plugged in the printer with lips puffy from his mustache in just your thong, he couldn't keep his hands off you. He had his photo gallery open on his phone and his arm around your waist as he selected the picture you sent him ages ago with the sun setting behind you. "This one is an absolute necessity. So is this one of us together. I don't think I should take any with me where you're naked, just to be safe," he mused, and you threw your arms around him.

"You'll just have to use your imagination," you told him as the photos printed.

"That'll be easy with this fresh in my mind," he murmured, looking down at your tits pressed to his chest. "I'll be thinking about you nonstop."

Bradley's hold on your body was unrelenting as he dropped the photos into his duffle and led you back to bed. It was getting late, and his flight to Virginia was early. You snuggled up on his chest with a soft smile on your lips. "I hope you do. I hope you think about me constantly and write me notes."

He kissed your forehead. "Not just you... your whole class. Have to keep them interested in aviation. But you're my favorite pen pal."

You laughed and buried your face against his neck, and he could feel your breathing grow a little more ragged as you whispered, "I love you so much. Just be safe. I don't really care if we have to figure out long distance or relocation as long as you're safe, Bradley."

That's how he fell asleep, wrapped up in your arms with your sweet sentiments in his ear. And the next morning, when his alarm went off, he welcomed your tears, because they made him feel like he was important to a woman for the first time in his life. You cried softly as you sat on his lap and went over his packing list with him one more time, and your cheeks were wet as you kissed him.

Bradley let you button up his khaki uniform shirt for him, your fingers shaking as you smoothed down the fabric along his chest. "Thank you, Gorgeous," he whispered, watching helplessly as your face crumbled into more tears.

When he drove the Bronco to the airport, your fingers were linked with his in the silence as the light from the rising sun hit the buildings downtown, promising to bring another perfect day to southern California. His hand tightened around yours, knowing he was going to be flying into so much uncertainty. His voice sounded strangled to his own ears as he parked at the curb under the signage for departing flights. "This is it. I'll text and call you as much as I can when I land before they lock me down, but this is it for seven weeks."

You crawled onto his lap, holding him tight as he kissed you, and now his tears mingled with yours. "I love you, Bradley," you promised, and he believed you as he held you in his arms and climbed down onto the pavement. He pulled his duffle from the backseat and dropped it to the curb as he held you against him, unwilling to leave before he told you a few more things.

"I'll keep myself safe, but you need to do the same. If you need something, you call Natasha right away, okay?" You nodded against him, your fingers digging into his shoulder blades. "My stuff is your stuff, so do whatever you want at the house and with my Bronco. And tell me you love me every day in the journal so I can read about it when I see you."

"I will," you sobbed as he finally set you down. "And I'll be waiting to hear you tell me if it's San Diego or Norfolk."

He swiped your tears away from your cheeks and kissed you one last time before he picked up his bag and headed for the door. When he turned back one last time, you were clutching his car keys and crying. "I love you, Gorgeous."

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

We'll see how they manage apart. I think she might do a bit better than Bradley will. Thanks @beyondthesefourwalls

PART 20

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[dilemmaontwolegs]

Hiiii I absolutely loved you Max fics I don’t know if you ever would want to do that but if your interested please do a mafia storyline with Max or Mick! ❤️

Little Lion Man || MV1 & CH16

Pairings: dark!Charles Leclerc x fem!reader, Max Verstappen x fem!reader Summary: you find yourself caught in a war between the mafia families that ruled Monaco. Warnings: 18+ only, nsfw, guns, murder, pregnancy, slight non con/reluctant vibes, forced marriage WC: 3.5k

For a nation so small it was hard to believe that Monaco could be home to not one but three mafia families. There was the Leclerc famile, Verstsppen familie and the Sainz familia. The Leclerc’s had always called Monaco home but the Dutch and Spanish families had made their arrival known in the 90’s, almost burning the city in the war that broke out.

Just over 30 years later, it looked like history was going to repeat itself as the prodigal sons took over the family businesses.

“You are my daughter, if I say you will marry Charles then you will marry him. End of argument.” You would hardly call it an argument when you weren’t even given an opportunity to say your piece but your father left no room for a rebuttal as he slammed the door closed behind him. There was a reason the Sainz’s called him the Peacemaker.

You were a bargaining chip, a pawn in your father’s arsenal to end the war between the Leclerc’s and the Sainz’s before it could spill out into the street and affect everyone’s bottom line. The last thing anyone wanted was to lose their men, their money and their product.

Two weeks later you were shoved into a wedding dress that could have been a film prop for any 80’s rom-com, puffy sleeves and all. It was hideous.

“You are quite beautiful,” Charles said as you reached the dais where the priest waited. “I suppose that will make this easier.”

By ‘this’ you assumed he meant the moment the reception was over and you found yourself stepping into his bedroom, your bedroom too now. Charles had been quiet for most of the evening, indulging in a handful of whiskeys over ice as he mulled over what his life had become, but he found his voice as he tugged his tie off. “On the bed.”

Your fingers tightened around your waist as you hugged yourself, trying to fight back the tears you thought you had finished shedding when you resigned yourself to your fate. “You don’t have to do this, we can come to an arrangement.”

Charles scoffed and continued to unbutton his dress shirt. “This is the arrangement.”

You swallowed as he shucked the shirt over a leather armrest and you saw the dark tattoos that curled over his biceps and down his forearms. A snake moved with his muscles and entwined around a gothic cross. Beneath it, thorny roses with blood drops splattered over the petals decorated the otherwise sun kissed skin.

“I don’t know what my father told you but I-”

“Your father said you would be an obedient wife,” he interrupted as he pointed a ringed finger to the bed. “I’m only as terrible as you make me.”

You took a step back as he stepped closer, his hand lifting to your face. It was reflex to flinch from his touch, knowing the violence his hands were capable of dealing to those who displeased him. You couldn’t help shivering as his cold wedding band touched your cheek and his other arm snaked around your waist, dragging the zip of your dress down your spine.

“What does that even mean?” you whispered. You took a breath and grew the courage to tip your head back and met his uniquely green eyes - the colour brighter than the soul behind them.

He pushed the puffed sleeves from your shoulders until the dress fell to the floor and inhaled at the sight of your body being bared to him. Biting his lip, he stepped back and ran a hand over his shadow of a beard. “Behave yourself, and I will too. Push me, and I’ll push you back harder.”

You felt the colour drain from your face at the threat and he chuckled as he closed the distance between you, forcing your lips apart with a demanding kiss. His palms ran down your spine and over the curve of your ass, pulling you flush against the hard expanse of his body.

“One other thing,” he murmured against your lips. “Disappoint me or my family and, well…it will be the last thing you do, chérie.”

You collapsed into Max’s arms the moment he opened the door, your fingers digging into the straps of muscle along his back as you clung to him like a lifeline. The penthouse apartment was quiet except for the tv playing in the master bedroom and your sobs filled the foyer before he could even close the door.

“You shouldn’t be here,” Max said, despite holding you just as tight. “He probably has Arthur or Lorenzo following you.”

You started to pull back but his arms caged you in his embrace so you settled for talking into his chest. “I know how to lose a tail. I was careful.”

He sighed and rested his cheek on your head, inhaling the floral scent of your shampoo he had missed. “I know, liefje. How long is he gone for?”

You screwed your eyes closed and wished he had never brought Charles up, but you knew Max wanted to know how long he could have with you. “He’s in Nice for a meeting. A few hours at least.”

The hatred for your husband had led you into the arms of Max, his rival and head of the Verstappen familie. The three families would meet each quarter for negotiations and settle disputes, or at least that was what it was meant for, but they just used it as a way to flaunt their wealth and success over each other.

It was after the wedding when you went to your first one that Max had caught your lifeless eyes as you sat beside Charles, decked out in a custom designer dress with diamonds strung around your neck, slowly choking you. He had been struck down by the vision before him and had never wanted something for himself so much in his life. He had been willing to go to war for you and he didn’t even know your name. He had learned it soon enough.

“Do you know who he’s meeting?” Max asked. Even when he wasn’t meaning to he was phishing for information, a reflex he couldn’t seem to stop with a mind as sharp as his.

“Please, mijn leeuw, not tonight,” you whined as you buried your face in his neck. (My lion)

“I’m sorry,” he said with a kiss to your forehead before he tipped your chin back to meet his ice-blue eyes. “What do you need from me, liefje?”

“I need to forget. Please, help me forget.”

Max closed his eyes as rage hardened his features and you knew he was rueing the day he let Charles live. The solution to your problem couldn’t be solved with a bullet and although Max knew that, it was still a bitter pill to swallow. He wanted nothing more than to bathe in Charles’ blood for what he had done to you, but the retaliation would be catastrophic. He had too many people relying on him, friends and family alike.

All Max could give you was a few short hours of his time to show you how he would treat you if the circumstances had been kinder. For a few short hours of stolen time he could erase the touch of Charles from your mind.

Max took your hand, his fingers easing your wedding ring off before placing it on the hall table with your handbag. You relished the freedom that came without the constricting band and flexed your fingers like it had been physically painful to wear the gold jewellery. In a way, it had.

Linking his fingers with yours, Max led the way through the apartment and into the bedroom you found comfort in. This should have been the place you called home, the solace you returned to at the day’s end. It was the one place you felt safe, even though just being here put your life in danger. If Charles ever found out you knew you would be dead, your body left somewhere it would never be found.

“Max…do you believe in God?” you asked in the quiet afterwards. Your arm was curled around his waist, fingers tracing the lion tattoo that covered his rib cage. You could feel the time ticking away with each heartbeat in his chest that you rested your head upon.

“No,” he said honestly, his accent thickening with his amusement. “Do you?”

You looked at the slight change in skin tone where your wedding band usually sat and slipped out of his embrace to find your clothes. “I have to,” you whispered as your throat began to tighten at the thought of returning to the cold mansion Charles owned. “There’s got to be something more than this hell. Maybe one day he will answer my prayers.”

Max could remember the feeling of taking over the family business, how he thought he was invincible - godlike even. Now he felt powerless to the situation. He didn’t like the feeling. He wanted to be the one to answer your prayer.

“One day…” he promised himself aloud, missing the way your spine stiffened at the words. There was no guarantee you would survive long enough for him to keep it.

You stared dumbly at the two pink lines and felt the walls of the bathroom constricting around you. You couldn’t imagine bringing a child into the world you were imprisoned in, it was unfair and deadly. What if the babe had dirty blond hair and ice blue eyes? A new fear sent a shudder down your body and you looked at your stomach, nothing to show - yet.

The door crashed off its hinges as Charles busted it in and you screamed at the surprise, cradling your abdomen on reflex.

“I called you ten fucking times!” Charles growled. His eyes narrowed as they scanned the room before settling on the pregnancy tests lined up. For the first time since you had wed him, Charles looked lost for words, and after a moment his hard stare softened. “We are having a baby?”

You couldn’t remember when he ever addressed anything as ‘we’, it was always you and him - separate, not together. You didn’t know how to react to the instant change in him but you nodded stiffly as he waited for an answer.

A smile grew on his face as he stepped forward and pulled your hands away from your stomach to place his own beneath your camisole. “My son, my heir,” he chuckled, the warmth of his palms almost blistering your skin.

“It might be a girl.” You flinch at the look he gave you and muttered an apology. Just because he was suddenly being gentle didn’t mean he would stay that way, especially if he ever found out the child wasn’t his. Nausea rolled through you and you pushed away to hurdle yourself at the toilet before you emptied your stomach.

It wasn’t morning sickness.

It was a sickness of the heart.

You knew if Max were to believe the child was his then he would have no choice but to go to war, it was a matter of pride and family. On the other hand, Charles would never let the child live if it wasn’t his and despite just learning of its existence, you were willing to do anything to protect it. You needed to tread carefully and that meant no more escaping your guards to see Max. It meant playing the good wife, at least for the next eight months.

You could feel his intense stare from across the table, willing you to meet his eyes. Too many times you felt them drifting up from your husband’s hand clasped on your lap only to snap them back down before you could give in. It would do no good to look at Max. You hadn’t seen him since the night before you took the pregnancy test and you had dreaded going to the quarterly meeting.

There was no hiding the bump in the tight dress Charles had chosen for you. There was no way that Max had missed it when you walked in on your husband’s arm. He had seen it and he had questions.

“I’m going to the ladies room,” you excused yourself after the meal, while the men talked business.

“Arthur will go with you,” Charles said with a nod to his younger brother sitting at his other side. “I don’t trust any of these assholes.”

His hand lingered on the small of your back as you stepped out and you glanced across to see Max’s eyes fixated on that touch. Though you did not welcome the hands of your husband, you no longer feared them the way you used to. Charles was far gentler now that you were, potentially, carrying his heir. It could also be Max’s.

A hand clasped over your mouth and silenced the scream that rose in your throat. “It’s me,” Max whispered, soothing your racing heart.

You looked around the powder room wondering how he had made it past Arthur and saw a narrow cleaner’s entrance left open a crack. “You shouldn’t be here.”

“You never came back, never answered my messages.” The hurt in Max’s voice made your chest ache and your hands dropped to the growing swell of your abdomen. He followed that movement, his chest filling with the deep breath he took and the pearl buttons on his shirt started to strain until he exhaled. “I didn’t believe the rumours.”

“I’m sorry.”

“For what?” he asked, the biting tone wanting detailed explanations like you were one of his men answering for your actions.

Your lips parted, ready to tell him exactly what you were sorry for, before they slammed shut. “I should go.”

He caught your arm as you moved past and he pulled you flush against his body to bury his face in your neck. “Tell me, please. I’ll make it happen, I’ll answer your prayers, I’ll go to war for you - for both of you. Just tell me, is it mine?”

The confession threatened to slip past your lips, the truth that you didn’t know, that he very likely could be. The confession threatened to eat you alive like it had done every time you saw one of Max’s men around Monaco. They always managed to get a message to you, but you never had a response to send.

“No,” you muttered as you pushed him away.

He rocked back on his heels but remained steady as he watched you retreat to the exit. “No, it isn’t mine or no, you won’t tell me?”

Your back hit the door and you blindly reached for the handle, sparing one last look at his shimmering eyes so you could remember them a little longer. “Whatever helps you to sleep at night.”

“Dammit, liefje, just tell me. I need to know.”

You broke away at the endearment that weakened your resolve and your shoulders curled in on themselves. “I can’t tell you, Max, because I don’t know. I. Don’t. Know.” Your voice cracked and the weight of those words fell tenfold on your shoulders as your hand slipped from the doorknob. “I don’t know who the father is, Max. I-I’m sorry.”

His strong arms grappled you into a tight embrace as you broke down in them, your knees giving out as you felt his lips on your forehead, smelt his cologne on his neck. “It’s okay, liefje, I'm going to fix this.”

You pulled back with eyes and blinked away the tears as you placed your hand on your belly. “How? What if it’s not yours?”

“Don’t worry, I’ll take care of everything,” he promised as he tipped your chin back. “Mine or not, this baby is yours and that’s enough.”

A knock sounded at the door and you panicked as Arthur asked if everything was alright. Your reply was muffled as Max stole a kiss and quietly repeated his promise before disappearing back into the cleaner’s room. Wiping your eyes, you unlocked the door and met your brother-in-law’s narrowed eyes before they searched the room behind you. “You’ve been crying.”

“Pregnancy,” you said with a wave of your hand. “It’s called hormones, Tur. Happens all the time, just ask your brother.”

Max’s chair was still empty when you reached the table but he entered from the main door a few minutes later. The mask he often wore in front of those outside the familie was firmly in place as he unbuttoned his suit with one hand and dropped back into his seat, apologising for taking an important call.

“Your men can't handle one evening on their own?” Charles baited over the rim of his wine glass with an antagonising smile.

Max returned the grin with his own as he slipped his phone into his suit jacket. “You have no idea what my men are capable of.”

You could feel the ripples of those words across the table, the feel of a threat in the air. It not only set Charles on edge but Carlos too - the two sharing a look of concern before facing the Dutchman once more.

Max took a mouthful of his gin and tonic and bit into the lime wedge without reacting to the strong citrus taste. Taking his time, he picked up his napkin and cleaned the drops of juice from his fingers before laying it over his lap as everyone watched closely.

It looked as if he were nervously fiddling with his rings under the napkin and Carlos snickered, relaxing back into his chair until your lion spoke again. “But you will…”

The air stilled for a moment as the napkin drifted to the floor and warmth splattered your cheek. You couldn’t think fast enough to process what had happened or why the wetness on your cheek was red. It could have been minutes but it felt like hours before your brain connected the dots and you saw your husband's body slumped in his chair before you, his green eyes open but unseeing.

Across the table, Max had risen to his feet, the fidgeting revealing a silencer he had been screwing onto his gun. He was cold and precise as he took out Carlos next, his accuracy unmatched. Around the seats he went, faster than they could react as the doors were busted open and his second in command arrived. Danny was ready to die protecting Max’s back while you dropped to the floor and prayed for protection of your own.

“We have to get out of here,” Arthur growled as he caught your ankle and dragged you back where he was kneeling, his white chinos turning red as they absorbed his brother’s blood. “Stay low, protect my nephew.”

“Do you have a gun?” you asked with a shaking voice.

“Of course not,” he spat angrily. No one was meant to have weapons at these meetings and you were assuming Max had retrieved his from the reception area before returning.

“Then you’re fucked.” You kicked your Louboutin into his face and scrambled away as he howled in pain, reaching the edge of the table close to Max.

“Liefje, are you alright?”

“Arthur, under there,” you rushed as you pointed behind you, closing your eyes as he lifted the cloth and the muffled gunshot rang out.

“Not anymore.”

“Time to go,” Danny suggested, reloading his magazine and kicking a few bodies to check they were truly dead.

“Is that it?” You asked, hope filling your voice despite the devastation in the room surrounding you.

Daniel threw his head back and laughed but Max just shook his head and said, “This is just the beginning. We just declared war.”

“But they’re dead.”

“Someone will take over, and when they do - we will need to be ready.” Max reached out and wiped the blood from your cheek. “You’re free of him now, you both are.”

Your breath rattled out of you as you felt the weight lift from your shoulders and as the sirens grew in the distance you managed to smile, the first genuine smile in months. Your prayers had finally been answered. “Thank you, mijn leeuw.”

Five Months Later

Ice blue eyes met yours before a piercing cry erupted and Max’s laugh was one of pure joy. “Mijn zoon,” he cooed softly as he rested his cheek on your head and you watched the midwife gently bring your son to your waiting arms.

Tears blurred your vision at the warm comforting weight of his tiny body lying chest to chest with you. You had never felt anything more precious, never held anything more delicate. He was perfect.

“My little lion man,” you whispered, brushing a kiss over the tufts of dark hair he already had. “We love you so much.”

As if he knew what the words meant, his eyelashes fluttered and he peeked them open to bear twin green irises. He would be an heir. He could unite the families. Or, he could tear it all apart.

Only time would tell.

[h3arts4harry]

- favourite girl -

-

warnings: ANGST(resolved), sls, TW, self harm, anorexia, hospitals, sewerslide attempt -lmk if i forgot anything

-

y/n is 17 and has really bad mental health issues, she started struggling with self harm and eventually disordered eating at 14 years old. it only got worse when her safety net, her brothers, left to move to LA.

-y/n pov-1:53am-

"just one more" i whisper, swiftly moving the blade across my wrist for the 6th time. "fuck.." i mumble as i stand off the floor. i look at myself in the mirror, staring at the girl infront of me. i cant help but feel sick with hate from what i see. my cheeks are swollen and red from crying, mascara smudged down them from the countless tears that have fallen. my eyes all ugly and puffy. i look down away from my face, down to my body. my monstrous body. how could i look so horrible all the time? how is it possible for someone to be so fucking hideous? my hand moves slowly over my stomach, i hate this. i hate what i see. i hate how i feel. i hate all of this. why do i have to feel like this? i divert my eyes away from one horror to another, the blood from the cuts, a beautiful crimson, dripping down my arm, creating a puddle on the floor. for a moment i just watch as it falls, rippling as it crashes to the floor. then it hits me, i cant leave a mess, they cant find out, im struggling again. "fuck fuck fuck" my heart pounds out of my chest as i fall to my knees, wiping the floor with toilet roll, flushing away the tissue. i carefully place band aids over the straight red lines, then wrapping my arm with a white bandage. i look at myself in the mirror once more wiping my cheeks with a deep sigh. i quickly hide the blade back into the back of my phone case before rolling my long sleeve shirt down, heading back to my bedroom.

-the next morning-11:47am-

i roll over with a groan as a bright light fills the room. "morning sweetie, theres a surprise downstairs for you, get dressed and come down" mum says as she opens my curtains then walking back out the door. i huff as i blindly move my hand searching for my phone, grabbing it and turning it on. the time reads 11:40am. i really have to fight myself to not fall back to sleep. i sit up wiping the sleep out of my face, groggily standing up and walking over to my chest of drawers grabbing out a red hoodie and baggy jeans throwing them on, messily tying up my hair in a loose bun, before walking downstairs.

i turn the corner into the kitchen, "so whats this surprise you said about" i ask with a yawn. my eyes snap open when i hear 3 familiar giggles. chris, nick, and matt were stood there with the biggest smiles that could always brighten my day no matter what. i immediately ran to them jumping into their arms, not have seen them for over 3 months. "hey kid" matt greets rubbing the top of my head, "h-how-when?" i struggle to speak through the shock, "we flew in last night, we knew your lazy ass wouldn't be up by earliest 11 so we got here a couple hours ago" nick says, pulling my into the hug tighter. "i-you- you said you couldn't fly back for another 2 months?" i step back, our hands still holding each others. "we managed to get everything done early and surprise our favourite girl" chris explains, his smile not once moving from his face. i step forward back into the hug again "i cant believe youre actually here, i- i missed you guys so much" i sniffle, a tear or two falling down my cheek. "are you okay kid?" "i-yea" i pull them in tighter "just really fucking missed you guys" "hey! language smalls" chris laughs poking at my ticklish sides, making me double over and step away giggling.

-12:29pm-

the four of us decided to go out for a drive, not having much to do in the house. "yo anyone else really feeling a mcdonalds right now?" chris asks turning to have the three of us in his view, matt and nick agree and matt pulls through the drive through. "hi can we get a double cheeseburger meal with a pepsi, and then- what did you want again nick?" chris looks to the older boy, "same as u works" "and another of the same please, and then- matt?" "ill get a chicken nugget meal with a pepsi please" matt says into the speaker box, "y/n what about you?" chris asks, "i-uh, im not that hungry, can i get just a water?" i fidget with my fingers, "are you sure? you haven't eaten yet today?" "im sure, im just feeling a bit sick" "mhm okay, and can i get a large water with ice please? yea that's all thank you" and with that chris sits down properly in his seat.

"so what you been up to angel?" nick asks from next to me, eating from his fries. "nothing much honestly" i shrug, turning from the window to face him. "really? its been almost 4 months and nothing interesting happened? sorry kid but i dont believe that for a second" matt says, looking at us in the back through his mirror. "i dont know what to tell you guys, i really haven't done anything" i look back out the window, biting my bottom lip. "hows school going? mum said youre grades are dropping again" nick tilts his head, attempting to get a glance of my face, i sigh and slump back against the seat. "smalls? whats going on with you?" chris turns fully, slightly leaning against the dashboard. "nothing going on im fine" i snap, bringing my legs up onto the seat and hiding my head behind them, along with the hood of my hoodie. the boys dont push further and just drive home.

pulling into the driveway, i quickly jump out and start heading straight for my room. "hey kid wait-" matt yells, running in behind me. "leave me alone" i huff as i keep walking, "smalls hold up" chris says, lightly grabbing my wrist. i wince in pain as i snatch my arm back, tears forming in my waterline "y/n?" nick whispers softly, "dont tell me you-" he cuts himself off, silently pleading that chris just grabbed me too tight. only nick knows about my struggles with self harm. i had promised nick that if i ever felt like i had to do it again that i would instead go to him. obviously i didn't. i dont respond, i just look down with guilt. "baby no-" he breaths out pulling me into a tight hug. "im sorry, im so sorry nick i swear i- im so sorry" i apologise between cries. chris and matt look at each other confused then back at us two. "nick? y/n? whats going on?" nick moves back a little, "can i?" i shrug with a small nod, i cant believe this is actually happening. my gaze doesn't move from the floor as nick explains everything. how he found me on the bathroom floor back when i was 15 with a razor blade over my bloody left wrist, and how he helped me clean everything up, and how i swore id go to him, and how i clearly didn't stick to said promise. "oh smalls, cmere" chris's voice sinks as he rushes to bring me into a hug, matt following behind and nick not long after joining.

we all stood there for what felt like hours, them just holding me. "how can we help you kid?" matt asks, "i-i dont know- i mean- i dont even know how to help myself, h-how am i meant to know how you can?" i manage to say between sobs. "shh its okay smalls, we'll figure it out together"

-timeskip-11:48pm-

"laura no- what do you mean we need to come back? we just got here" i wake up hearing nick on the phone, to laura from what it sounds like, i creep out of my room, to the top of the stairs that lead down to the living area where the boys supposedly are. "nick what? put it on speaker" chris says. "theres been a couple meetings that you guys need to be at come up" i can just make out through nicks speaker. "what? no we cant, cant you rearrange them for when we're back?" matt grumpily says down the phone, "im sorry matt, i already tried since i knew you guys were going back to boston, theres nothing i can do, you guys need to be back by tomorrow night" "this is so fucked up, what is this even for? we're needed here and not to be rude but this is way more important than any meeting" chris snaps, not at laura directly but at the situation hes found themselves in. "its a meeting with the big companies about brand deals, like i said i really tried to organise it for a month from now but they wouldn't do it, these guys really want to partner with you guys, theyre offering a lot of money" "fuck, can we call you back laura?" nick mutters, "yea sure, call me back asap so i can book your flights okay?" "yea okay bye laura" and he hangs up. "what the fuck are we gonna do?" matt asks, "im not sure, we cant leave y/n but mum and dad will not let us bring her with us either cause of school" nick thinks out loud, "what if we just dont go?" chris shrugs, "we cant not go chris, dont be fucking stupid" nick claps back in a duh tone. "for fucks sake, how many meetings did she say it was?" "theres three, one on Tuesday, one on Thursday and another on Monday" "what if we go and then fly back like straight after? would that work?" matt suggests "i mean it wouldn't not work" nick shrugs "but we cant leave y/n right now dude, shes struggling and what will happen if we just leave again?" chris pipes up again, to which matt huffs falling back into the sofa. "i dont know what to do you guys" nick sighs almost in defeat, "me neither", "fuck."

i let out a shaky breath before getting up and head straight back to my room, getting back into bed. 'are they gonna leave me again?' 'what if theyre gone for months again' my mind starts to race. i snatch my headphones off my bedside table and place them over my ears, playing my playlist, turning the volume all the way up, attempting to silence the thoughts.

-9:34am-

"hey y/n? kid wake up" i rub my eyes open to see my brothers, matt sat on the edge of my bed with chris and nick stood behind him. "whats going on?" i ask slightly dazed, "we gotta fly back to la but only for 9 days and we're gonna be right back okay?" matt says softly. my face drops, i thought i just dreamt last night. "youre leaving me again?" i mutter, "no- well- kinda? but we're going to come right back we swear" chris rambles. "whatever" i mumble, pulling the covers over my head and turning away from the three. "y/n please, we dont want to go but we have no choice, laura called last night and we tried to get her to rearrange it but she couldn't, please understand that" nick pleaded, i didn't reply, i just stayed still and ignored them. i cant believe theyre leaving me again. "im sorry smalls, please dont stay mad at us, we'll be back before you know it" chris says rubbing my shoulder, they all mutter small goodbyes and leave. after i hear the door shut, i let out a small sob i had been holding in.

-7 days later-

the last couple days have been really difficult, and i mean really fucking difficult. i havent left my room unless it was to go to the toilet, which ive only done like twice. i haven't showered. i haven't eaten, or drunk anything. mum and dad are really worried, they keep leaving plates of food and water outside my door but i physically cant get up to go get it, and even if i did its not like im going to eat it anyway. i hate that im such a burden for them, i hate that im worrying them so much. all i knew was i needed them, i needed my brothers. i tried messaging them in our group chat for help 3 days ago but there isn't much they can do being 5 and a half hours away. i huff, slamming my phone down onto my bed. i cant do this any longer. i push myself out of bed, trudging towards the bathroom, locking the door behind me. i tiredly look in the mirror, a worn out, struggling girl looks back to me, begging me not to do what im about to, but i ignore her silent pleads. i turn to the shelves, reaching for my basket on the second bottom shelf, grabbing a box of meds, then lifting a bottle to reveal a new razorblade underneath. i pick up the blade and put the bottle back into the basket. i fill a small cup we have for rinsing up with water before sliding my back down the cabinet, leaning against it. am i actually gonna do this? what am i saying i cant continue suffering like this anymore. but am i gonna leave without saying goodbye? that's a good point, ill write out a text, something simple so they dont suspect anything. a simple "i love you all and appreciate everything you guys do for me<3" yea thatll work, and i hit send. i turn off my phone, placing it on the cabinet, above my head. taking a breath i take a sip of water and swallow a handful of pills, then another, emptying 2 boxes. shit i really just did that. i look down at the silver blade in my hand, so much power is in such a tiny little thing. i slowly move it over my unwrapped wrist, the recent gashes already starting to heal. i push down hard against my wrist and pull, blood pushes out of the slit like its been waiting to escape. again, i push the blade down and pull. again. again. again. again. again. again. the crimson blood pooling around me. again. again. again. i start to feel faint. shit. am i really doing this? i dont want to die? i just want the pain and suffering to stop. shit shit shit. i try get up but my vision starts to blur, no no no, not yet i cant die just yet-

-the same time but sturniolo triplets pov/ no pov?-

ding ding ding all three of their phones went off. chris checks his phone and sees the notification from y/n, to their group chat, even though hes in the middle of a meeting he opens it anyway;

"i love you all and appreciate everything you guys do for me<3"

for a minute, he smiles at the kind words. but it doesn't last last before his smile turns into a frown, "guys, look" he says shoving his phone into his elder brothers faces, "chris what? we're in the middle of something here, sorry about this" nick apologies, as if chris is a toddler interrupting his parents at work, but his face quickly drops as he reads the message, snatching chris's phone from him, to make sure hes reading it clearly. "im so sorry about this but a big family emergency has just come up and we need to go, ill get laura to contact you, and again im so sorry but we have to go" nick rambles as he packs his stuff up and leaves, matt and chris right behind him.

"nick what is going on? you cant just leave like that, that was the most important meeting out of the three!" laura almost yells down the phone, "sorry laura but i think y/n is in trouble so that meeting can kiss my ass because y/n is way more important, i gotta go" "nick-" and he hangs up. the three boys grab their bags that they still hadn't unpacked from before as they planned to fly straight back after the last meeting, and drove straight to the airport. they rushed in and got straight on the plane.

-5 hours later-

knock knock knock "cmon y/n open the door!" jimmy yells knock knock "sweetie you've been in there for hours, are you alright?" Marylou softly but loudly speaks "cmon lovey open the door for us".

"dad mind out the way" chris says and he runs up the stairs, "oh fuck chris you almost gave me a heart attack" jimmy huffs, moving out of the way, along with Marylou standing next to him. once chris gets outside the door he starts to kick it in, matt and nick are not long behind chris and start helping to kick the door in. it only took around 4/5 kicks with their combined strength for the door to slam open, but the scene revealed on the other side was the worst thing they could've ever imagined. they all froze at the sight. the shriek from Marylou seemed to bring them all back as it rung through all of their ears, "boys call 911 now! and get away from the bathroom!" jimmy yells as he takes marylou downstairs and away, sure his mind was running but he knew he had to get his wife and eldest kids away before he could actually do anything.

its like time has paused, yet moving so fast simultaneously. the blue lights can be seen flashing outside the sturniolo residence, matt almost flies down the stairs and lets them in and guides them to where y/n is laying, with chris next to her, holding a washcloth tight over her wrist, trying to stop blood flowing out. "chris move, the paramedics are here" matt shouts as he follows behind them. what feels like at the speed of light, they take y/n into the ambulance before asking "theres only space for one extra person, or we could take her on her own?" "ill go" "ill go" chris and nick say in sync before death glaring each other. "we dont have time for this, im going, you two talk to mum and dad then meet us there okay?" matt says calmy, although much like his dad, hes freaking out like crazy inside.

"is she going to be okay?" matt asks as the ambulance is racing to the hospital, "please tell me something? anything? i need to know shes going to be okay?" he frantically rambles, "i cant be 100% on whats going to happen but no matter she'll live" the paramedic stood over y/n confirms, "so shes going to be okay?" matt says hopeful, "i didn't say that" and with that whispered statement his heart sinks.

-2 hours later-

the ambulance arrived at the hospital and they rushed y/n in. a doctor met matt in the waiting area to question him and ask what happened. nick, chris, jimmy and Marylou arrived around half hour after matt did. matt then had to fill them in on what he knows, which really isn't much. and from then they have just been waiting for a doctor to come over and say shes okay and breathing, and that they can go see her. jimmy and Marylou had nodded of as its almost 3am but the boys were very much still wide awake, not fully used to the timezone change yet.

"um for y/n sturniolo?" a doctor shouts, the triplets jump up and rush over, "and you guys are?" the doctor questions, "her older brothers" "is she okay?" "whats going on?" they all blurt out over each other, "ah, shes doing okay, but she is asleep still. she has a drip that helps try save her liver and we've stitched up her wrists. she'll physically be okay if all goes well but you might want to get her some mental help, i brang out some leaflets that have different ways to help, here" he says passing over a few leaflets to the boys, "thanks" nick hums putting them in his back pocket. "can we see her?" chris asks "give me like 20 minutes to check everything and ill be right out to getcha" the doctor nods with a polite smile.

-20 minutes later-

"hi boys, so everything is okay, you can now go sit in her room but she is still infact asleep so try be quiet, she needs the rest. shes in room 197, second floor" the doctor finally reveals, "thank you so much" all three boys say in sync before rushing off to the stairs.

"there look 197" nick points the a sign hanging above a door. they slowly walk in and see y/n laying there asleep, connecting to a drip like the doctor had said. "she looks so uncomfortable" nick mumbles walking closer to her. "did they say anything about how long it would take for her to wake up?" nick asks his younger brothers, to which they both shrug, and so they decide to sit and wait for her to wake up.

-hours later-y/n pov-

i slowly wake up and my head feels like its throbbing and my heart feels so heavy, like it weighs a thousand pounds. i lift my arms to rub my eyes but i have a strong pain shoots through both, i squint my eyes open to see bright white lights shining down on me. i look down to my arms and see my left wrist covered in bandages, and my right arm is connected to a drip? where the hell am i? i look around a bit more, with my eyes fully open now and i see the boys asleep, they should be in la still? what the fuck happened? -oh. that explains why i feel so numb.

i feel sick to my stomach, i cant believe how selfish i was. to do that. and to let them find me. my whole body feels like its closing in on itself, my heart pounding out of my chest, my lungs being tightly squeezed to the point i can barely breathe. im such a horrible person, why on earth would i put my favourite people through this? i tightly shut my eyes and let out multiple shaky breaths. my head running wild.

"y/n?" i snap out of my trance, to see matt stood over me, drowning in anxiety. i bite my bottom lip and look down, away from his worried eyes. "kid look at me. please?" i reluctantly look back up to the older boy, terrified of what hes going to say. a moment of painful, awkward, silence passes, just looking at one another, no verbal words being exchanged but everything needed was said. he pulls a small, comforting smile onto his face and leans forward pulling me into one of his hugs, attempting to squeeze out all of my suffering.

"omg y/n youre awake!" is almost yelled from behind matt, he pulls back to reveal a happy but anxious chris. "hey smalls, how are you?" i lightly shrug. nick then walks into the wrong with 4 bottles of water, "i bought y/n some water to for when she wakes- omg y/n!" he drops all 4 bottles and runs over to me wrapping me in his tight embrace.

-timeskip- a month later-

its been hard this past week. i got released from hospital like 3 days after i was admitted. ive had therapy sessions three times a week with Dr Louise, shes nice i guess, it might just be me but it feels like she doesn't understand what im going through or what ive been through. like i get shes there to work and get paid but it feels like that's the only reason shes there, like she doesn't care, but hey, i have my brothers. the boys haven't left boston yet, they told me theyd stay for 2 more months minimum before they had to go back for a couple weeks for work then theyd be back again. i know its gonna take some more time but i really feel like im eventually gonna get better. and its all thanks to matt, nick, and chris.

"hey angel, we spoke to laura and we managed to clear our schedules for the next 2 months so we can stay here with you" nick sits down next to me on the couch, chris and matt mimicking his actions sitting the other side of me. "we told her that our favourite girl is more important than any work stuff and we would risk it all just to make sure our favourite girl is okay" chris smiles, wrapping his arm around my shoulders pulling me into a side hug "we would drop everything in a second to fly back here for you kid." "im sorry, about everything. i love you guys" i say with a small smile. "dont apologise smalls, we love you more than youll ever know, like i say, your our favourite girl"

-

NOTE: sorry im not being too active on here, college is kicking my ass and im js not in the best mental state rn so ive js been a bit distracted? ig idk. i saw that 750 people are now following me and im like speechless, i appreciate and love all of you so fckn much istg🫶

as always feedback is appreciated <333

THANK YOU FOR READING

LOVE YOU HOES

taglist:

@m0r94n @chrisgetsmewetterxo @raysmayhem-72 @junnniiieee07 @sturnzsblog @sturniolo-slvt @mattspolitank @cerismo @chrispotatos @ncm9696 @pvssychicken

[snoopcco]

제이! boyfie! jay x reader 🗒️ synopsis boyfriend jay plays with your hair and cuddling you because you cried until you felt safe and went back to sleep. warning. very sad and short :,(

# (separation anxiety at its finest.)

“I’m back home pretty, let me see your gorgeous face.” your boyfriend, jay, was busy today. he left early, and to your surprise, he came back home late. and your separation anxiety definitely did not help. you found nights without jay empty, not just because you were alone, but you felt empty when your other half wasn’t in sight. “love?” jay called out to you, but you didn’t reply as he was still looking for you.

he would expect you to be in YOUR spot on the big couch you guys shared, laying down while eating your favorite ice cream tub, watching the kdrama you wait weeks for a new episode. but no, it seemed like tonight was different. it was like you didn’t wait for jay. and that was rare, because jay knew how much you would miss him at night so that’s why he would try to come home as fast as possible to kiss you and cuddle you endlessly.

jay quietly strolled to your guy’s room, peeping through the gap in the door and to his expectation, you were curled up into a ball. covered by the comforter that barely even covered anything, seeming like you were cold.

jay smirked, he found you cute. he thought, maybe, you just went to sleep because you were exhausted and tired. so you just gave in and went to bed, “even when your snoring, your gorgeous.” he giggled, getting on the bed slowly approaching you. he intended to kiss you on the lips and express his love, however; with his sharp hearing, he heard your sniffling. hiccups. he was a tad bit stunned, he didn’t know how to react if you were crying. “oh my baby.. look at me.” he said so.. so soft. so gentle. with all the care he could ever use.

you slowly turned to him, revealing your red puffy eyes. you cried, it devastated him. “my poor baby, why are you crying? you shouldn’t cry.” he cupped your face, bringing you closer to his face. “I’m hideous right now, jay. I just cried, so I don’t look my best.” you looked down and frowned, a bit embarrassed. “hideous? fuck, love. never call yourself that. that shouldn’t even be in your vocabulary. your crying over here, but all I can think of right now is how your so pretty when you cry.”

“now come over here, I’ll show you how much I care.” jay opened his arms and you immediately came to him, engulfing into his warm presence. he held you, so close. as if you guys were interlinked. jay didn’t want you to cry, he wanted you to know he loved you.

“oh baby don’t cry.. your too precious.” he wiped your tears, looking at you with so much love. you were rested on his chest, and he softly and slowly rubbing your back, his lips were near your ears, and when his voice touched your ears, it felt warm and tingly.

jay started playing with your hair, removing the hair from your face and tucking it behind your ear. “don’t cry anymore. I’m here.”

“pretty, pretty girl.”

@ jwnstars !! sigh. why isn’t he my bf.

I FORGOT TO POST/PUBLISH THIS. this has been sitting in my drafts unfinished. I feel like this is one of my most detailed works bc I fricking suck lmao 😿🎀

[sobbingscripter]

DAY 1: A partridge in a pear tree

☃️A Zen'in Christmas☃️

Tags: [I hate this man with a PASSION][smash with the lights off][mating press][mistletoe][arranged marriage][m4f][fem! reader][sloppy][Naoya doesn't celebrate Christmas because he believes it's a 'commoner' holiday]

❄️☃️❄️

After being forced to marry into the Zen'in clan, you learnt quite a few things about them.

Their Christmas parties are ASS.

Stupidly extravagant with over-the-top desserts and mixtures of deconstructed, gluten-free quiches that seem like they were made by someone who's favourite spice is flour.

And not to mention, you'd bet your left flap that Naoya is the killer of Christmas spirit. To each proposal of cheer, he counters with a depressing family story that took place on Christmas.

You're sure it's just because he wants to watch the glimmer of childlike wonder to leave your eyes.

You're deep in thought when you bump into Naoya, right in the doorway of your shared room. "Shit, my bad." You mumble, stepping back because for someone who hates other people invading his space, he sure loves to invade yours.

"What's... This?" He motions to the festive plant, dangling from the frame of the doorway and you follow his golden gaze.

"A mistletoe." You answer with a hum. "When two people stand under it, they have to kiss under it."

His full lips from an 'o' shape, nodding his head of shaggy hair like he understands the concept, before a grin creeps onto his face. Maniacal and damn chilling, only softened by the dimples in his cheeks.

Naoya doesn't understand the concept of a mistletoe.

Nor does he want to.

He likes the version in his head. Where rather than kissing you, he has your knees pressed against your chest, plush tits against squishy thighs and watching the way your colourful tongue lolls like a fucking bitch in heat.

"Look at you." He grunts, cocky grin planted on his face as broad hands readjust their grip on the backs of your thighs, golden eyes locked on your flushed face as your hands claw at him, manicured nails digging into his biceps.

"So fucking needy for a little deep dicking." He enunciates his point with a particularly hard thrust, the tip of his cock smearing precum against your cervix with each, sloppy kiss it gives, and your eyes damn near roll back in your head.

Your back is against the lush carpet that lines your bedroom floor, your dress hiked up to your hips and the neckline pulled down low enough for his eyes to drink in the way your pretty tits bounce with each rough piston of his hips.

"...fuck...you .."

You can barely spit out the insult, your mind fuzzy and pretty eyes unfocused.

Naoya fucks mean. Brutal hips, hands leaving bruising indentations in your soft skin and lips spitting insults that would have you huddled in a corner.

"...'s positions real easy to switch holes in, sweetheart." His voice is condescending, but you can't find the heart to punch him in the throat while he's drilling you into the hideous carpet of his private quarters.

Veins and his ridged crown drags against your walls with each piston of his hips, as he slows to an almost passionate pace, savouring the way your gummy walls cling to him, his eyes focused on your puffy pussy lips, spreading around him.

One of Naoya's hands move, sliding down your torso towards your face before moving to cup one of your ruddy cheeks, wet with trickling tears of overstimulation and pleasure.

"Mm.... So pretty when you shut the fuck up."

He leans forward, guiding each of your legs to his broad shoulders and he leans forward, kissing your lips sloppily, and you feel him reach a spot that damn near has your eyes bulging like a stress toy.

His tongue is warm and wet, brushing against yours and thoroughly claiming the wet cavern, until he pulls away, a strong of goopy saliva connecting between the two of you.

Naoya pulls out of you with a wet 'pop', his cock still hard as he tucks himself back into his boxers, and just....

Leaves you in a crumpled pile on the carpet, forcing your hazy eyes to lock onto the mistletoe you'd hung above the doorway, in a cute attempt to bring the festive season to the Zen'in compound.

God knows they need Santa and all the wonders and cheer.

Once you manage to pull yourself back together, you smooth out your hair and tug your dress back into place, before moving towards the Christmas 'party' in the lower quarters.

No carols, only... Sad excuses for decorations and the saddest looking tree you've ever seen. All... Leaning to the side, giving you the 'please decorate me better' branches.

You don't look or even think of Naoya. Because in a way, he's like Candyman. You say his name and he'll show up to kill your spirit.

But it's too late. That scent of sandalwood and a hint of cinnamon brushes against your nose as Naoya passes behind you, his voice low and husky.

"I'm coming for that ass."

[sachermorte]

Roland, it's been too long since you talked about fashion.

What are your fashion do's and don'ts?

And what fashion rules are bs in your opinion?

I could have sworn I talked about fashion fairly recently but looking back, it was last month already. That simply won't do. Obviously from a menswear perspective. If you're looking for more traditionally femme advice I can do my best, but no promises. Cut because I wrote too much.

Fashion Don'ts

❌ artificial fibers ❌

Take a look at the two blazers below.

They are, upon first impression, quite similar. Two buttons. Notch lapel. The same pocket flaps, the same seams down the front to contour to the body. Even (roughly) the same color.

Look closer. You see the strange sheen to the jacket on the left? The way the thread cuts into the fabric, causing it to almost look puffy on either side? The odd cast to the draping? How it almost, just a little bit, looks like it's been sewn out of a parachute?

The jacket on the left was sewn out of polyester. Now, polyester has a number of benefits, such as water and fire resistance. That's because not even the water or the fire really wants to touch it.

Now look at the jacket on the right. It drapes well, yet maintains its structure. It doesn't pull any funny business around the seams. The texture adds an interesting detail to the rest of the outfit and anchors it firmly in the textile tradition. It's warm. It's comfortable. That's because it's made of wool.

Unfortunately, plastic clothing is not only cheap, it's increasingly the only option available. Even luxury brands use it, and extensively at that. But if you're aiming to look stylish, if you want someone to look at you on the street and go "oh wow, that person looks truly lovely", there's no reason to choose polyester, acrylic, or nylon over natural fibers. Cotton, wool, linen, silk, angora, cashmere, leather. These are your friends. I promise you, they're your friends.

❌ slim fit ❌

There was a time (a dark and terrible time) when people thought that it was acceptable and fetching to go out in public looking as if they'd been shrink-wrapped into their clothes. This is one of those fashion trends that comes back every few years alongside other truly gruesome horrors, such as plucking your eyebrows too thin or wearing capris. It's all very mid-2010s. All very r/malefashionadvice, the pants cut so slim you can hardly sit down in them, the jackets that pull uncomfortably at the buttons.

This is not attractive. They look uncomfortable. It unbalances the frame, for one. The gentleman on the left looks like he's about to hulk out of his shirt (and his tie is too short. for shame!). The gentleman on the right has skinny little toothpick bird legs.

Contrast these gentlemen from the 1980s and 1990s.

Perhaps the shoulders are a bit large for our modern sensibilities. Perhaps the pleated trouser causes you to raise an eyebrow. These are matters of personal taste upon which reasonable minds can and do differ.

But look at the cut. Look at how breathable everything looks. The jacket gives you room to maneuver. The pants aren't about to cut you in half every time you take a seat on the bus. These gentlemen are wearing their suits as opposed to being imprisoned by them.

If pre-y2k men's tailoring interests you, I invite you to watch some films and shows from the 80s and 90s. You'll really develop your eye for these sorts of things and can apply what you've learned to your own wardrobe.

❌ athleisure ❌

Ugh. Ugh ugh ugh. The American need to wear sweatpants and workout gear everywhere they go, come to haunt and infect us all. It's the drawstring waists on suit pants. It's the insistence on the most hideous running shoes I've ever seen with every outfit. It's the "performance" fabrics on clothing you're going to wear to the office or to a wedding.

If I have to see fits like this for very much longer they're going to have the in the motherfucking Hague. They will. I promise you they will.

Anyway. Now that we have that out of the way.

Fashion Dos

✅ dress up ✅

Next time you have somewhere to be, work or school or a party or just walking around town doing nothing of any consequence, dress one or two levels above where you normally would and see how you feel.

You can start slow with this. Wear a tie and some corduroys with your usual casual jacket and sneakers. Try a blazer with your jeans and graphic tee.

People, at first, may say "oh, what are you all dressed up for", but after a while they just get used to it and stop commenting on it. I regularly wear full suits to my teaching job where my colleagues wear jeans. It's just my thing. They don't know me any differently.

My life noticeably improved when I started dressing to impress for more or less every occasion. And it makes me feel great, besides.

✅ buy secondhand ✅

As I mentioned before, the Polyester Plague is among us. It lays heavy on our backs. Even formerly nice or luxury brands are beginning to adulterate my (dear, beloved) natural fibers with this crap. I saw a "wool blend" coat being sold in a shop the other day. You want to know how much wool was in it? Seventeen percent. 17. One-seven.

Used to be, I would go window shopping even in budget stores like H&M and it would be an absolute struggle to not spend money I didn't have on things I didn't need. It was a discipline exercise for me. I was sweating each and every time.

Now? Not so. There's nothing in any of these stores worth buying. Nothing at all. This is why we buy secondhand. We have Humana and Carla and Vintage Shop as chains here in Vienna for fairly decent prices, alongside a smattering of independent stores. With a good eye and a thorough education in 80s and 90s television shows, you too can pick up some truly glorious finds.

But watch out! Even in our thrift stores, some of this shit is still SheIn. Be watchful.

✅ intentionality ✅

I know so many people with a closet full of clothes. Good clothes, nice clothes. But so, so often they lament to me that they have absolutely nothing to wear.

This is because they have clothes. They don't have a wardrobe.

Which colors do you like wearing? What places can you be found in your everyday life? Are there clothes you just won't wear, either because of the color or because of a fit issue? Thank them and let them go. Are there things you'd love to wear more often but you have no idea what to wear them with? You might need more basics.

If I can give you any hard and fast rule here, it's this:

Never buy a piece of clothing unless you can imagine three different outfits you could wear it with.

I want to buy a chocolate brown blazer? I could wear it with a white shirt, patterned brown pants, and brown boots. I could wear it with cream trousers, brown loafers, and a tan turtleneck. I could wear it with green trousers, brown boots, and a cream shirt. Don't make up hypothetical pieces of clothing. Everything above is something I already have in my wardrobe. I could take home that brown blazer today and wear it for half a week straight, minimum, just with things I already own.

Also, if a piece is "off", in some way, if it's just a hair too tight or the shoulders are a little weird or the color washes you out a little bit or it's kind of itchy, and you think that it's fine, it's not that big of a deal...

Put it down. I mean it. Put it down. Never take home a piece that you aren't happy to wear as it is here and now, unless you're literally going to take it to the tailor that very weekend. You'll never touch it again. It'll rot in your wardrobe, gathering dust.

Fashion Rules (that are BS)

1. Outfit repeating. You have clothes to wear them. You have a washing machine. Of course you're going to repeat outfits. Especially if you really liked how you looked in them. If someone calls you an outfit repeater ask them why they're an outfit rememberer.

2. Silly color rules. Any color combination can be made to work if you're intentional about it. Of course if you go wearing brown shoes with a black suit there's not a force on earth that can save you from my wrath. But if you intentionally combine brown and black, that's always lovely. "Don't wear white after Labor Day" (which is in September in the US for some reason)? Angelic all-white winter looks steal my heart away every time. "Blue and green should never be seen"? What are you talking about? They look wonderful together.

3. The idea of "timeless dressing"

People think it's "old money" now. Sad beige. White. Gold. Oversized t-shirts. A few years ago, everyone's idea of timeless was totally different. Swinging from minimalist capsule wardrobes to "fifty pieces everyone's wardrobe should contain". It's all made up. It's all capitalism. Wear what you like. Wear what makes you happy. Wear what's functional for you and your wardrobe. You don't have to answer to anyone as long as your clothes work for you. Even me.

Although I might judge you.

Just a little bit.

[dozing-marshmallow]

Hi! I love your writing, I was wondering if I could request some headcanons for Alejandro × fem! reader who is latina (Argentinian) and is on her period? (btw could you also make Alejandro latino pls)

YOU KNOWWW I was actually planning on writing reader being on period headcanons for a couple TDI characters, but I wasn’t sure how to do it. Think this request is a starting sign to move forward with that ;) 

Thank you for the request and your love for my work!! Enjoy 💗 

ALEJANDRO X ARGENTINEAN! READER ON PERIOD HEADCANONS

It’s actually so much fun having a partner that shared similar cultures to you.

You had someone to randomly switch from English to Spanish with, someone whom your parents absolutely adored, someone you could relate to.

When that week of the month comes for your uterus lining to splatter down, you’re understandably not in the greatest mood and Alejandro could tell.

“Hijo de puta...” Your cries get coughed up, onto Alejandro’s grey jeans,“Why does this have to hurt so muuuch? I can’t function properly! I can’t fuuuunction!”

“Poor niña.” Alejandro sympathises, patting your head that slammed on his lap like a pillow,“Would you give me the honour of cooking you a delicacy to cheer you up? Perhaps asado?”

“A barbecue today...?” you stir around to see his flawless face with your puffy eyes,“I...I don’t think we have any meat...”

“No problem. I’ll simply go to the Latin market. Perhaps you’d like to assist me? Please don’t feel obliged to, if you prefer to stay here.” His voice was too handsome.

A part of you wanted to stay inside because you weren’t motivated to go outside when you felt like a hideous pig and your tummy feeling that someone was savagely putting a chainsaw through and through over and over.

On the other hand, you didn’t want to be alone, and someone needed to drive the girls away.

So you stand up, flinching at the sudden leak warming between your legs and nod,”Vamos.”

I can see Alejandro always using the formal “usted” to refer to you for some reason. 

Example, when you do get to the Latin Market, you head immediately to the sweets aisle where Alejandro had to chase you from the meat section.

“¿Usted tiene una paladar dulce?” (Do you have a sweet tooth?) he grinned after seeing you claw in your cravings for chocolate, sweets.

It never pissed you off so much until today,“Alejandroooo, can you stop being so formal for once? We’ve known each other long enough.”

He puts a hand to his chest. Here we go,“But I fear there is a difference between the time of knowing someone to how you know someone. You’ve known someone like Heather for a long time, but would you say you’re in a close-“

Nope nope nope nope nope,“Point made.” you then realise something,“...Are you basically saying how you view me is how I view Heather?”

“Mi amor, ¡claro que no!” Alejandro’s light emerald eyes bolted like a second,“That was just to distinguish the difference. All I’m saying is that I personally haven’t felt that I have earned the right to refer to you to something so intimate.”

You scoff. Periods really do make you feel weird,“Oh, get real, Alejandro. It’s just an excuse, I don’t care. You probably say that to any other chick whenever I’m not around.”

His dumbfounded brain could only thrive more through his tongue,“My dear, you don’t think of me as that shameless, I hope not! It would be against nature to even make attempt to displace your rightful place en mi corazón.“ he then takes a proper look at your specific choice of sweets in its yellow wrapping,“Havanna alfajores? What extravagant taste. ¿Quieres que te lo compre?”(Do you want me to buy it for you?)

Now see, that pissed you off even more. Because why did you need to tell him that it’s only logical to use the informal “you” for him to start using it?

Oh you don’t have the energy to properly confront him,“I’ll only let you buy these for me if you drop the usted. I’m sick of it. So sick of it.”

“It’s a deal.” he smirked, adding a bottle of Malbec to the basket.

As soon as he bought everything, you rip open a packet of Havanna alfajores and shove it whole in your mouth. Already you felt so much better. So much better, you could cry again. Alejandro laughs sweetly.

“Don’t you want one?” you ask him.

He shakes his head,“Please, they are your sweets. They’re for you. You deserve them for remaining strong in something only as I as a man can treat with dignity.”

Okay, that one got your face feeling as intense as your cramps,“...As long as you’re happy too.”

Of course those bloodsucking slices had to stick deeper just as soon as you expressed some solicitude to another human being.

“Ohh Alejandro... “ you moan, crunching the wrapping in your first, you rocked your head against him,“I wanna go home now. Now. Get me out here, please...”

“Your word is my command.” he transfers the plastic bags to one hand,“Would you prefer I carry you?”

Through a fit of moans and swirling discomfort, you did have the barbecue and played all kinds of Latin music to the grilling and steaming. You would have had a dance if your uterus wasn’t chewing you alive in sync.

You almost cried, but Alejandro soothed you. Let yourself rest, mi amor! It is nothing to see the sorrow in your eyes like that!

You were still pissed at yourself for having this bodily whatever, but you had to concur, that you’d have the rest of the other days of the month to get up and dance.

As true love suggests.

[gods-no-longer-tread-here]

“What do you want, warrior?”

The man soaked in blood grinned. His eyes were black, his skin was snowy, and the veins in his face and exposed hands pulsed with dark power; but he was no witcher. He couldn’t be. His grip on the silver-bladed sword was awkward, unused to the weight. He did not have the build of a monster-killer. If not for the magic, and the blood, he would look weak.

“I want my witcher, of course,” he rasped.

The lord scoffed and sipped his wine. “You cannot have him, and you will die if you continue this foolish quest,” he said flatly. “You may have cut your way through my men to reach here, but you are human. Humans cannot contain witcher magic. Do you want to die?”

The man laughed. It was a hideous sound, loud and rough and mad. The lord frowned, and squinted, looking closer. It was hard to tell, when the man was so far away, but…

The cup slipped from his suddenly cold hand.

“Yes,” the man soaked in blood said, his grin that of a madman who died a long, long time ago. “But it will be by his hand, and no one else’s. No one said I was human.”

“Jules,” the lord gasped.

“No. My name is Jaskier. Now give me my witcher, Father.”

~

Geralt pressed his fingers to his eyes again, gritting his teeth. He still wasn’t used to the hazy shadows where his vision used to be. Luckily the torturer was inexperienced; Geralt wasn’t fully blind. Yet.

His fingertips brushed gingerly against the raw, puffy scar at the corner of his right eye. He knew it was only a matter of time before they gouged the organs out of his head. He would fight, of course. He would kill. But his eyes were less important than--

The stench of blood. Metal and sweat. Rage. Witcher potions.

Linseed oil. Buttercups.

The sea.

Geralt attempted to stand, but his feet were still healing. His heart was beating too fast. He turned his head, towards the dim square of light that was the window of his cell. Surely not…

“Jaskier?” he whispered.

The lock clicked. The door opened. Geralt took a deep breath, and tasted the flat, salty-sweet tang of blood and offal. Under it was Jaskier, though—unmistakably his bard.

“Jask,” he repeated, and lurched to his feet. The form in the light gasped, then rushed forward to embrace him. Geralt wrapped his arms around Jaskier and held him too tightly, trembling with relief. Alive. Safe. Maybe the gods existed. Maybe Destiny had taken pity on him.

But… why did Jaskier smell like witcher?

Pulling away, Jaskier pressed a vial and a sword hilt into Geralt’s hands. Geralt sniffed the bottle as his fingers curled into the familiar indentations of the leather grip. Swallow. Potent. Too potent. It would make him sick to drink it.

“I need you to kill a monster,” Jaskier said.

Geralt felt a feral grin spread across his face. “Give me a scent,” he replied, “And their head will be yours.”

Jaskier held a piece of fabric up to his face. Geralt breathed in deeply, and growled in hate and anticipation. He knew that scent. It was carved into his memory as deeply as the voices of his brothers.

“He’s wounded,” Jaskier told him. “Not enough to slow him down, but enough to cause upset. Can you smell him, Wolf?”

“I smell him,” Geralt hissed, popping the cork from the bottle of Swallow.

“He’s all yours, my dear. I’ll clean up the trash behind you.”

Geralt growled again, drank the potion, and darted around Jaskier. A monster to slay, for his bard. There was no task better suited to him.

~~\0/~~

Ten Years Previously

It was a fine thing, to be free and untethered. Truly he was meant to exist this way.

But Jaskier had tasted the stability of love, and now he could not be satisfied with the adrenaline of lust. So he waited at the inn for Geralt to finish his latest contract, instead of leaving for the nearest court or brothel—one and the same, truly. Full of rich men paying for the use of others’ bodies. And Jaskier was tired of it all.

Nilfgaard had fallen. Cintra had been restored. That didn’t mean there weren’t still monsters to clean up—both beast and man. Whilst Geralt specialized in the former, Jaskier concentrated on the latter. Like now, as he wrote a letter to a contact in Redania containing coded and magicked information. The old men who called this backwater village home were good at hiding, but their soldiers were not. Jaskier had seen them, and their weapons, and their fine steeds. And their sorceress.

She was good, but Yennefer was better. And with the entire force of her Lodge behind her, she could easily sway the woman to give up her lord and his sons. Jaskier allowed himself a small smile as he signed the letter with a tiny bird. Yennefer still wasn’t his favorite person, but only because she wasn’t Geralt. Other than that small detail, there was no one he trusted more.

With the three of them on the trail, Ciri wouldn’t have an enemy on the entire continent within a decade.

Not that she knew the extent of her parents’ goals. The last time Jaskier had seen Ciri, she had laughed that they were all too protective of her. She was a woman grown, with a wife and a place as a weapons-teacher. It didn’t matter how grown she was, though. Not to them.

Jaskier frowned. It was wrong of him to be so protective of her, when he wasn’t even her father. But he would still burn the world to the ground in her name. Was this how her grandmother had maintained her station? This blind loyalty that ensnared the hearts of the powerful until they couldn’t imagine a world without her?

Did it matter? They would root out every speck of conspiracy, to keep her safe. They would kill everyone they had to.

Jaskier pushed himself to his feet abruptly and paced the room. These thoughts, though frequent, and often quite logical, frightened him. He had asked Yennefer to poke about in his head to find any seed of madness in him, but she had said there was nothing other than what all men had. Jaskier had not been violent when he was younger.

When he was ignorant.

He sighed, and sat again. Nothing for it. He’d have to hope Geralt came back without wounds, so they could spar, or fuck, or both.

“I do so wish I understood what’s happened to me,” he murmured, leaning his chin in his hand. “There’s so much beauty and delight in this world, and yet the one thing that doesn’t move me is death. Hmm.”

“Is that so, little one?”

Jaskier shot to his feet and whipped around, his hand going to his dagger. In the corner was a shadow, undulating, covered in eyes of green fire. The lights of the candles and setting sun seemed to leech away into the inky dark of the shadow. The scent of ancient blood on cold stone filled the room.

Jaskier scowled and took his hand from the dagger’s hilt. “Mother,” he said dryly, and bowed. “Stop sneaking around like that.”

A wet chuckle, like a drowned person choking, and the shadow resolved into a tall, broad woman clothed in rags. She smiled, baring her fangs endlessly stained in blood. “But it is so fun, my dear boy,” she cooed, cupping Jaskier’s face in her sea-cold hands. “You are just as easy to frighten as your father. What funny creatures, men.”

“What do you need, Mother?” Jaskier asked. “We’re quite a ways away from the sea. A goddess of sirens should be with her people, in the waters.”

Her smile grew soft, her enormous wings mantling around them both as she pulled Jaskier into a gentle embrace. He hugged her back immediately, breathing her salty scent deeply. He’d missed her. Only a year, and he’d missed his mother, the daughter of Storms and Death.

“I need you to promise not to hate me,” she murmured.

“I could never hate you, Mother,” Jaskier replied.

“Not even if I granted your wish to know?”

“No. Your blood is in my veins. You know I want more than is good for me, always.”

She laughed again. “The sea takes, and takes, and takes, and gives but rarely. It is time I tell you.” She pulled back enough to tilt his face up to look into her eyes of storm-fire. Her expression and voice were gentle as she said, “My blood is in your veins. It is awakening. I am fading, and soon you will take my place, the lord of death at sea.”

Jaskier went cold. “Mother…”

“Hush. I am losing power. It is a cycle, like the tides. I Saw your coming fifty years ago, and that is why I seduced your father, married him in the way of humans, and bore you. Now you are coming into your own. You will take my place and feast on those who trespass in our beloved ocean. Do not be sad, my pearl. I am not dying. I will simply go where the ones before me went.”

“Mother.” Jaskier licked his lips, gathering his courage. “Mother, I can’t leave Geralt.”

His mother smiled indulgently. “You needn’t leave him. You can keep him in the depths, like my father kept my mother. You can even let your little sorceress friend visit once a moon. But you must come home when I fade. You must take up the chalice. There are too many humans who seek to tame the sea. They must remember why they worship us.”

“I’m not god material.”

“Neither was I. It comes to you. Don’t you feel it, my pearl? That jealous love. That lust for the blood of those who hurt those closest to you. That is the sea within you. Answer the call of the sea.”

[kikuowo]

THE LONELY TREE

PAIRING: sanzu haruchiyo x reader

SUMMARY: comforting him <3

WARNINGS: slight manga spoliers about sanzu’s past. self deprecating thoughts . i did NOT proofread so goodluck lmfao

A/N: omg…hi hey guys im.. alive what. ive had this in my drafts for EVEEEERRRR and finally found motivation to finish it. its not long and its not great but its something. i miss tr and i miss sanzu my pookiebear…

every so often, haruchiyo would return to this state. his old self. once again he was timid and quiet, the kind boy you remembered when first meeting him.

he went from his loud teasing nature, to locking himself in the bathroom. he would stare into his reflection with dim eyes that seemed to be far off into his mind.

haru thought he was hideous. bright obnoxious pink hair, something so childish for a top ranking gang member, that paled his already ghastly skin even more. freckles dotted across his nose and cheeks, he had always hated them as a kid and now even in his late 20s he still wont acknowledge that no amount of scrubbing will wash them away.

two large jagged diamonds were etched into his skin. just thinking about them he could still feel the sharp stabbing pain from the edge of the plastic toy like it happened yesterday. he thinks this might be the ugliest aspect of him. he could tolerate the pale skin, freckles, eyebags, and wild hair. all easy fixes, he thinks, but has no motivation whatsoever to do so. however, the scarred skin on each corner of his mouth would never, could never, be fixed.

his appearance was just one thing that made him hideous. his action and, really his whole existence was hideous.

never was he good enough.

not good enough for their mother to stay. not good enough for their father to raise them. he was a terrible brother, teaching senju wrong and always disappointing takeomi.

he was a bad friend.

he killed mochi. one of the few people who he thought truly cared for his well being, even thought of him as a younger brother.

he was a bad boyfriend.

haru knew he wasn’t good to you. he knew you deserved someone normal. someone who isn’t an addict. someone who can go out freely and take you out on dates. he knew you deserved someone who didn’t lose their temper easy like him, who hurt you not just physically but mentally and emotionally as well. he’s not sure why you’ve been following him around so long, but he also isn’t sure what he would do if you stopped.

rindou had warned you through text about haruchiyo’s sudden drop in mood. you immediately dropped everything and rush home to him, wanting to stop his self loathing quickly before it turned for the worse.

when you arrived to the apartment all lights were off, drapes closed and everything was quiet. if you didn’t know any better you would think no one was home. but you knew he was home, if not for the shoes thrown haphazardly by the door, the soft sounds of crying could be heard.

you ponder on calling out your arrival, deciding on just being loud enough to let him know you are home, but not enough to startle him. you make your way to the bathroom and quietly knock three times before pausing then entering.

haru stands slouched in front of the sink. his rose colored hair messy, eyes red and puffy, and a frown set on his lips.

taking a slow breath you walk up to him, your reflections side by side. you know he knows you are there, it shows in the way he slightly tenses and his hands begin to shake. you want nothing more than to comfort him, however knowing he dislikes overbearing people holds you back for a moment. unsure and unmoving, you take this moment to really look at the broken man in front of you.

you see his pain, you see his hardships, you see his worry, you see is sadness. but you also see his pretty blue eyes that always look at you with love and hopefulness. you see pretty porcelain skin that blushes a pretty pink when he gets flustered from your words of love. you see rosy lips that you love to feel against your own and that you know he loves to use to praise you, to make you feel loved.

you also see two scars, one on each side of those lips. deep down they have always made you feel a sense of sadness. a once happy little boy scarred for something he didn’t do, insecure to the point of covering his face for years, a moment forever changing his life.

but they also made you happy. they were apart of haruchiyo, the man you loved with every atom inside of you. anytime a diamond appeared throughout the day you instantly thought of him. how happy he made you, how much you missed him, when will be the next time you can hold him? kiss him?

snapping out of your trance, you once again walk up to him. slowly, allowing him time to retract from you, you wrap your arms around his middle and lay your head against his back.

he tenses even more at first before slowly but surely relaxing into your hold. you place one, two, three kisses between his shoulder blades, payment for letting you comfort him. he places a cold hand over one of your own, a silent thanks and a green flag to comfort him.

and so you do, holding him in the cramped bathroom slowly swaying the two of you and placing kisses every so often onto him and listening to the steady thrumming of his heart, one he knows solely beats because of you.

[thehatchettownchronicles]

No Flowers On My Bones - 2

MASTERLIST

Content Warning: character death mention, grief, poor self image, poorly translated Polish, Ted being Ted

🥀🥀🥀🥀

Steph hadn’t been able to sleep. Believe her, she wanted to. She tried. Really, she did. But tomorrow came, and left sleep behind. Her eyes were slightly bloodshot, having been awake the whole night. She sat on the Spankoffski’s couch, knees curled into her chest. They’d let her stay over more often than not after everything. She didn’t want to be alone in fhe manor more than necessary. Being the gentleman he was, Peter had opted to sleep on the couch, but Stephanie refused. She knew that she wanted some time to process, and she wanted Pete to be comfortable.

Her hair was disheveled, and she wore no makeup for once. She wore a pair of pajama shorts and one of Pete’s old t-shirts from a summer camp he got sent to. It was a hideous thing, bright blue with black lettering reading “Virginity Rocks.”

In her mind’s eye, Steph thought she looked like a dumpster fire.

She sure as hell felt like one.

Her mind had plagued her with unending memories of her dad. Both when he was alive, and memories from that night. She wondered, could things have gone differently? Could he have still been here if she hadn’t ran?

Was this her fault?

Who was she kidding, it had to be her fault. Her fault for going along with Chastity’s plan, her fault for asking Pete to go to Pasqualli’s, her fault to ask him to cheat on that test…

But she didn’t regret Peter. No, in her eyes he was the one good thing to come out of this.

But Steph didn’t deserve Pete. That’s what she genuinely believed. She’d cost him a normal life, she’d cost him his two best friends. Even now, she couldn’t imagine how he could love her after everything. But he did.

•••

The words had been quietly exchanged after Richie’s funeral. Pete had broken before they got to the car, crying. It had broken Steph’s heart. She held him close, comforting him, letting him let out his emotions. His eyes had been puffy and red, and his face was caked with salty tears. Steph did her best to soothe him and dry his eyes, cooing soft reassurances at him. She took his glasses off so they wouldn’t get smushed, and placed them on her head, pushed up so she could still see.

After hesitating for a bit, Steph had pulled Peter down so she could kiss his forehead, and gently held him. Pete had pressed his face into Steph’s shoulder, his hands on her waist.

That was when he’d uttered the words, “….I love you…”

“I love you too, Petey….” she had whispered back.

And she had meant it.

•••

Steph stared off, eyes practically burrowing holes into the coffee table. Yeah, Pete loved her, but he shouldn’t. Not after everything.

Peter stumbled downstairs with a yawn, his hair a mess. He wore a goofy pair of Star Wars pajama bottoms, and an old navy blue tanktop. If it were any other time, Steph would have quietly admired the fact that he was kind of jacked, but she barely even registered his presence.

And Peter took no offense to this. One glance at her showed him that she wasn’t in great shape. And he didn’t blame her. No, Pete had been an itter trainwreck after Ruth and Richie’s funerals. If he was being honest, he still wasn’t okay. He got a pot of coffee started for his family and Steph. His blood sugar was okay for now, so he’d wait to make his hot chocolate.

Instead, as the coffee pot started going, he moved to the couch, settling beside Steph. She started slightly, snapped out of her thoughts. Pete gave her that awkward, sweet smile of his and held out his arm to offer her a hug.

The corner of Steph’s lips quirked up slightly.

She slowly nestled herself into Pete’s side, letting him wrap his arms around her. Steph draped her legs over Pete’s lap, and rested her cheek against his shoulder. His thumbs rubbed small circles into her skin, and he sighed as he placed his chin on the top of her head.

“…You didn’t sleep, did you.”

“Nope.”

“I didn’t either, after Ruth and Richie’s funerals.”

Steph pressed a small kiss to Pete’s shoulder.

“I feel gross, Pete.”

“You look beautiful though.”

“Sure don’t feel like it.”

Peter pulled back a smidge, moving to cup Steph’s cheek in his palm. He ran his thumb along her cheekbone, and looked her in the eyes.

“Maybe you don’t feel like it, but I’m looking at the prettiest girl in all of Hatchetfield,” he murmured, softly.

Steph’s heart melted a little bit, his words filling her head with cotton.

Peter pressed a kiss to her cheek before moving her to snuggle into him once more. She relaxed a bit, enjoying the moment.

That is, until Ted came down the stairs with a big yawn, shirtless and hairy as ever.

“Mornin’ lovebirds,” he greeted, scratching his chest as he headed into the kitchen to get himself some coffee.

Pete cringed. “Dude. Put on a shirt, nobody wants to see that,” he said, moving a hand to dramatically cover Steph’s eyes.

Steph giggled as she heard Ted scoff and pour himself some coffee.

“I think several of the fine ladies of Hatchetfield would have to disagree with you there, kiddo,” Ted shot back. “Jesteś po prostu zazdrosny, że nie masz tak seksownego ciała.”

“Theodore jesteś odpychający.”

“Guys, I don’t speak Polish stop it,” Steph said, lightheartedly as she removed Peter’s hand from her eyes.

Pete stifled a laugh.

“Stephanie, if we’re switchin’ languages like that, it means you don’t need to know,” Ted said, shooting a cryptic smirk at Pete.

Soon, Pete’s mom and dad came downstairs, and the house was bustling with life as the two went about making breakfast. Peter never let go of her, encouraging her to be a part of the conversation.

It was foreign to her, having such a lively home.

[theladyofdeath]

Better or Worse {17}

Nessian. Angst. Modern AU.

@snelbz x @theladyofdeath collab

Better or Worse Masterlist

A/N: Thank you to all of those who have continued to read! We have loved writing this story and cannot believe it's about to come to a close.

*WARNING: NSFW, 18+ READERS ONLY.*

I don’t remember the last time my sisters and I had the afternoon to ourselves. No kids, no husbands, just the three Archeron girls.

And about eight hundred dresses.

Elain’s eyes are already shining with tears, her new mama hormones just as powerful as the pregnancy hormones, while Feyre looks like she’s on a mission.

The consultant, a pretty girl named Justine, met us at the door and showed us to the changing rooms we’d been assigned before asking me what my vision was for our vow renewal. As she hurried off to look for dresses that fit the ceremony of my dreams, she gave my sisters free reign to pick out one or two dresses of their own.

I’m not sure what to think about getting a second wedding dress. My first wedding dress was cheap, something I found online, but I loved it. Simple, fitted, but gorgeous. It was perfect for our casual beach wedding. It’s been sitting in an upstairs closet for the past decade. 

Feyre and Elain come back to the dressing rooms at the same time, multiple gowns draped over their arms.

“Okay, rule,” I begin as they start hanging them up. “We show each other everything, even if we look ridiculous.”

“Fair,” Elain agrees, sitting next to me on a plush bench. “We should have fun. We won’t be doing this again until the kids are grown and planning their weddings.”

At the mention of Nyx and Sera growing up, Elain tears up, but she quickly shakes it off. She left the baby with Azriel and is having serious separation anxiety.

I squeeze her hand.

“Remember when we went dress shopping for my wedding?”

As soon as the question leaves Feyre’s mouth, Elain and I burst into a fit of laughter. The most hideous green dress pops into my mind that Feyre nearly had us wear just to play a prank on her soon-to-be husband, but in the end we went with the sleek navy blue gowns that Feyre just couldn’t pass up. 

But shit, those green dresses were awful. They reminded us of something her ex may have wanted in his wedding…which added to the reasons why Feyre had left him.

Poor taste. In everything.

“Those blue dresses were stunning, though,” Elain says, eyes soft. “You were stunning.”

“Very few brides can pull off a black dress,” I agree, “but you were perfect.”

Feyre smiles, remembering it all. “Yeah, it was a perfect dress. Too bad Rhys ripped it to shreds the second the reception was over.”

Elain barks a laugh as I shake my head. “He would destroy something so beautiful without a second thought. He’s insane.”

“Which is why she married him.” Elain winks.

Feyre doesn’t deny it as her grin grows and turns just a little bit wicked.

“Someone had to marry a madman, may as well be me,” Feyre jokes.

But I shake my head. “I don’t know. Beneath all that calm demeanor, we all know Az is a freak.”

Elain’s cheeks redden at my words, but she doesn’t deny it which makes Feyre howl.

Justine returns with three dresses, two of which I immediately know will be going in the reject pile, but true to my word, I try them on.

“Tell me about your husband,” Justine says, fanning out the train and handing me a large mirror so I can see the back. The dress is atrocious, all puffy sleeves and layers upon layers upon layers of tulle. I look like a cake topper and based on Feyre and Elain’s constant smirking, they agree.

I ignore them, answering Justine. “He’s handsome, kind, strong, loyal. A bit of a goofball, but it’s one of the things I love about him. I can be a bit too serious, sometimes, so he balances me out.”

“And how did you meet?”

And so goes most of the appointment. She brings dress after dress, most of which don’t fit my style, but I politely try them on, answering her questions, while constantly thinking of my dress at home.

I idly wonder if I can still fit in it, something I mention to my sisters while we have a moment alone.

“I sure as hell wouldn’t fit in mine anymore,” Elain sighs, patting the small belly she hasn’t been quite able to get rid of since Sera was born. “Hips are wider, belly is bigger, and don’t even get me started on these boobs.”

I laugh, feeling the jealousy poke its head up but ignoring it until it dissipates on its own.

“And my dress no longer exists…” Feyre sighs, rolling her eyes in the most loving way.

“I might try it on tonight,” I say, playing with one of the ties of the dressing robe I’m wearing. “Just to see if it still fits.”

“Do you want to wear it again?” Elain asks, examining the fit of the lavender dress in the mirror in front of her. “Rather than get a new dress?”

Pursing my lips, I look at the mountains of lace and beading and silk around us. “No,” I admit. “This is sort of a new beginning for us. These vows are to show how far we’ve come and how strong we are. I love my old dress, but I think I need something new for this new chapter.”

Both Feyre and Elain are nodding, understanding on their faces, just as Justine comes back with two more dresses. Feyre sighs and leans back on the couch she’s curled up on. “One thing is for sure. If you do still fit in your original dress, Cassian is going to lose his shit when he sees you.”

The hanger on one of the dresses Justine was hanging by my dressing room door clatters against the wall before she drops the garment to the floor. The noise pauses our conversation as she hastily reaches down and picks the dress back up.

“I’m sorry, I’m so clumsy,” she mutters, clearing her throat. Hanging the dresses up, she turns around and looks at me in the reflection. Her look isn’t appraising, it isn’t the same look she gave me earlier when we were discussing dress shapes. This is an inspection. Her eyes start at the top of my head, where my hair is braided in a coronet, down to the tips of my toes, painted in a deep red color.

“It’s fine,” I say, slowly. 

She doesn’t seem to hear me as her eyes trail back up my body. “At least you’re pretty.”

I hesitate. “Pardon?”

She clears her throat and I swear the smile she paints on her mouth is forced. “I was just saying how beautiful you are. All of these dresses will look lovely on you.”

I slowly look at my sisters in the reflection of the mirror, but they’re watching Justine with equal confusion. 

With a halfhearted promise that she’ll be just around the corner if we need her, she’s gone, leaving my sisters and I to stare after her in a stunned silence.

“Okay, well,” Feyre says, jumping to her feet and clearing the awkward tension. “Let’s see these dresses that will look lovely on you.”

Rolling my eyes, I grab the one she dropped and head into the dressing room.

I end up leaving without a dress. Nothing stood out to me, nothing grabbed my eye like my original dress did. After leaving the dress store, we ended up at a Mexican restaurant, where Elain relented to peer pressure and had exactly half of a margarita. Nine months of not drinking killed her tolerance and she’s a giggling mess as I drop her and Feyre off at her house.

When I make it back home, the house is silent and empty, except for Greg who is fast asleep on the couch, snoring soundly. 

After kicking off my shoes and setting my keys and purse aside, I hurry up the stairs into the spare bedroom. In the back of the closet, stuffed into a zipped up bag, is my wedding dress.

I haul it out — an unnerving amount of dust clouding in the air — and set it on the unmade guest bed. I don’t know why, but I find that I’m nervous. Maybe it’s more of excitement, but the feeling that floods my core has my fingers trembling as I reach for the zipper.

When I pull out the dress, it’s exactly like I remember it. 

It’s white, of course, but the lace covering the bodice has a hint of blush to it, just enough to notice. The back is completely open, while the sweetheart neckline is held up by thin, dainty straps. Fitted through the waist and hips, it gently flares out before reaching the floor.

I love it just as much as I did the day I wore it to marry my best friend.

Before I realize what I’m doing, I’m taking off my clothes and whipping the dress off its hanger. 

I’m surprised when it easily slips on. I slide my arms through the straps and shimmy the dress over my hips. There’s a zipper on the side and I only have to tug and suck in once before it’s fully zipped. 

When I look in the mirror, I suck in a breath. Suddenly, I see myself on the beach, looking into Cassian’s eyes as he says his vows. Ten years is a long time, but I remember it like it was yesterday.

A door closes downstairs and then I hear Cassian’s carrying up to me.

“Nes?”

“Shit.” Cursing under my breath, I quickly hurry across the hall to our room and then into our bathroom, closing the door behind me. My hair, thanks to the dozen or so dresses I tried on today, is an absolute mess. I pull the bobby pins out and haphazardly run my fingers through it, doing my best to make it presentable again. A knock sounds on the door just as I drop the last pin on the counter.

“You okay?”

With a deep breath, more nerves in my stomach now than ten years ago, I open the door.

Whatever Cass had been planning to say fades into nothing as his jaw drops and his eyes drag down my body and up again. I’m surprised to see silver lining his eyes when he meets my gaze again.

“You are so beautiful.”

Emotion clogs my throat and I look down at the counter, feeling my cheeks burn. “Thank you.”

“You look as beautiful today as you did the first time I saw you in that dress.” He steps closer and lifts my chin.

I meet his eyes and the emotion dwelling within them is overwhelming. My vision blurs and he wipes away a tear that escapes down my cheek. There was a time that I would have felt foolish in a situation such as this, but I don’t. I feel completely loved, in every possible way by this man in front of me.

“I just wanted to see if it still fits,” I say, although my voice breaks.

His smile is so soft that it makes my knees weak. “Oh, it fits,” he says, and his eyes graze my body, making my heart beat just a little bit quicker. His eyes linger in all the right places before I step forward and slide my arms around his neck. His hands run down my sides and rest on my hips.

“I love you,” I breathe, and he kisses me.

Cassian has kissed me in a million different ways throughout the years, but there’s something precious about a sweet, gentle kiss. It’s the kind of kiss he gives me now and the sincerity of it, the promise of it, nearly has me going limp in his arms.

“Did you find your dress today?” He asked, his lips leaving my own for a moment to find my temple.

I shake my head. “No, none of them were the one.”

“You’ll find it, baby,” he says, stepping behind me, wrapping his arms around my waist and gazing at our reflection in the mirror. The image it creates is laughable, my wedding dress contrasting with the sweats and hoodie he wore over to Rhysand’s, but it doesn’t matter. What we’re wearing, what we look like, none of it matters. It doesn’t matter if I wear a two thousand dollar ball gown, my first wedding dress, or one of Cassian’s old hoodies, being with him, reaffirming our love for each other, that’s all that matters.

“I love you,” I tell his reflection, repeating my words from earlier, because I feel like I need to make up for all of our lost time, all the days he didn’t hear me say it.

His lips find my neck. “And I love you.”

The deep rumble of his voice against my skin has my eyes closing, tipping my head to the side to give him better access. I feel the zipper at my side coming loose and can’t stop the smirk from forming on my lips.

The dress pools at my feet and I know I should carry it back across the hall, put it back in its bag, and return it to its place in the back of the closet.

But I don’t.

Instead I luxuriate in the feeling of Cassian’s large hands cupping my breasts, the way he rolls my nipples under his thumbs in tandem with his tongue on my throat. I can’t stop the soft moan that falls from my lips.

Behind me, I can feel the evidence of what the little sound does to him. 

I watch his eyes open and darken as they meet mine in our reflection. I can tell he grins as he bites the tender spot at the base of my throat, and this time when I let out a moan, one hand slides down my abdomen and finds its place between my thighs, beneath my panties. His finger teases me, running between my folds again and again, as Cassian whispers, “Beautiful.”

I try to rock my hips, try to signal my need for his fingertips against my throbbing clit, but he takes his hands off of me. Before I can protest, he’s picking me up and carrying me into our bedroom. 

Instead of throwing me on the bed in a fit of passion, as he usually does, he lays me down gently. My head falls against the pillow as our eyes meet, and there’s such a yearning, such a devotion staring back at me that it has me feeling emotional, yet again. I say nothing. Neither does he.

He simply pushes himself back on his knees and pulls off his hoodie, then his t-shirt before leaning over me and kissing me, slowly. Our tongues brush as our lips open and move. He takes my hands in his and brings them over my head against the pillow. 

Our kisses grow heavier and I need more. I need more of his mouth on mine, more of his skin on mine.

With my heels I push down his sweats and we work them off together, and eventually it’s just our bodies lined up as one, perfectly as always.

He pushes in, slowly, my legs wrapping around his waist until he’s fully seated inside me. With my hands pressed into the pillow above me, I’m completely at his mercy, pinned there under his adoring gaze. His hips draw back, leaving me empty and needy before pushing back in. Cassian swallows my moan with another tender kiss and before I know it, I’m gasping beneath him as he makes love to me.

If the past few months have taught me nothing else, it’s the different ways my husband worships my body. He’s fucked me, dominated me, let me take the lead. But there’s nothing that makes me feel as cherished and desired not for my body, but for my heart as when he makes love to me, our souls becoming one for those few minutes.

Giving myself over to the pleasure of the moment, I let my eyes fall closed and focus on the feel of him moving in me, on me, around me, and allow the emotion building in my chest to grow.

“I love you,” he breathes, peppering my face with kisses as he thrusts in and pulls out. His lips trail down my neck to my breasts and I’m unable to stop the moan this time as his tongue flicks over my sensitive nipples, playing with the jewelry there.

I want to tell him that I love him too, but I’ve momentarily forgotten how to form words. I’m lost in him, completely consumed in all that he’s giving to me. My legs around his waist tighten as he quickens his pace. His tongue plays with my nipple only for a moment more before trailing back up my neck and capturing my lips. My back arches and I’ve completely lost control over the sounds tumbling out of my mouth, sounds that Cassian seems to thrive on. 

He curses, and although it’s filthy it feels reverent, as he leans back and meets my gaze just as I cry out and my body trembles around him. My release finds me and I cling to him, wanting to revel in this moment. He thrusts a few more times before his movements grow uneven, and he comes with his eyes locked on mine and our breaths mingled together, quick and heavy. 

Neither of us say a thing, but neither of us move, either. Our hands are clasped, his body is on top of mine. He stays inside of me. 

I feel safe, wanted, loved.

A dress may not seem like something to get emotional over, but thinking about where we started, how far we’ve come, and what we’ve gone through in the past year makes me forever grateful that I wore that thirty dollar dress all those years ago. I can’t wait to marry my husband all over again.

[eel-sedate]

Some things are just not meant to be

part 1 | part 2

Malleus Draconia x gn!reader

It has been a week after your failed confession to Malleus, you're now left all bitter. It doesn't help that you're completely alone with nobody else than yourself to get along with, you have so many friends yet you're still so greedy. The more you're known, the more lonely you are. You long for someone to hug you and tell you that it's all going to be alright.

As a matter of fact, you're so miserable actually. Pathetically crumbling down at the slightest bits of stress that slowly piles up, Malleus has taken note of your strange behaviour. He's not going to let his best friend go through all of this alone is he? He slowly strides over to the Ramshackle dorm, curious at what state you're in now.

Malleus carefully knocks on the door, leaning his ear in to get some more knowledge on what's going on. He hears the muffled wails from behind the door, the sound confuses him. Why are you crying? What has he done now? It's always on him, isn't it? You open the door, not caring who were to see you in that disheveled state.

"Malleus?" "Child of man, why are you crying? Have the days of melancholy still not pass?" "Sniff It's nothing. I was just a bit stressed. So, why're you here?" you wiped the snot that was dripping from your nose, you knew you weren't a very pretty crier. You looked even more hideous with your nose all red and your eyes all puffy.

"I came here to consult.. Was what I did wrong? Should I have not told you my answer?" "It's not that.. It's just.. It was super embarrassing for you to just drop that big of a bomb on me, especially in public." Malleus' face looked as if he were a puppy that got kicked, traces of regret slightly hinting on his features.

"I.. I apologize.." You felt enraged at that word, you could care less about the confession. The past is the past, but him apologizing for what he did? It was just ridiculous. "You're a manchild, Malleus. Have you never grew up?" your voice was laced with venom, Malleus felt degraded. He knew what he did was wrong, he understood it.

"I could care less about your apology. I just want you to understand what you did was wrong, just.. Just get out of my sight.." You pushed Malleus away from the Ramshackle dorm, rushing to get inside and shut the door. You never knew that your emotions could get the better of you, you really regret what you've said.

But you can't take it back now, no. You're a fucking dumbass for thinking your life is all miserable and pathetic, but nobody blames you. You are sent here against your will with no way of going back. Is there even a way to reconcile with Malleus? Well, there is.

After your fight with him, Malleus went back to the dorms feeling guilty. It never occured to him that humans were on a whole 'nother plane. The prefect was not wrong, he couldn't deny it anymore. He really was immature, he'd get upset when things don't go his way.

You had all the right to be mad at him, he thought. It was him who was at fault. But in reality, you both were too blinded by stupidness. You both were fools who were played by your own game. When the time comes, you'll finally come to terms that not every feeling has to be reciprocated romantically.

You and Malleus can still stay friends, share hugs and thoughts, not everything has to be about romantic love. Sometimes, what you needed was space. If you did get your feelings reciprocated, you'd just be stuck in a one-sided relationship, with you being too guilty to break up with Malleus because you feel that you're obligated not to.

[sunnyrosewritesstuff]

Hello for the valentine's day prompt Bifur and Oin please? 💖

Thank you so much for the request! I've never played with this couple before and it was so cute! I hope you enjoy.

Oin was fit to drop, but there was still so much to do. The healers’ tents had remained full and busy even when the number of survivors brought to them started to slow drastically. Oin sighed. War. Such a mess. Even camped in the shadow of the mountains were entirely too close to Azanulbizar in his opinion. The place where they lost their king and crown prince. The place where he almost lost his One. 

He checked on his patients doing what he could with them, and conversing as best as he could with the ones that were awake. He had taken a hit during battle that caused his ears to pop, and even now they were still ringing. He hoped the loss wasn’t permanent, but he also didn’t hold out much hope after three days. Perhaps he would be able to get by with a hearing trumpet and not go completely deaf. 

The final bed he made it to was the hardest one for him to handle. Bifur lay unconscious, the hideous orc axe embedded in his skull. The skin, red and puffy from where they had cleaned and stitched around the wound. It was a death sentence if they attempted to remove it, and right now he was at least breathing. However, the other healers had given up on any chance of him waking. ‘Dead between the ears’ was what they said. His body carried on living even as his mind gave up. 

Oin couldn’t bear to give in to that assessment. Even when he knew there were other patients who needed his attention. Even when he knew there was very little to hope for, that Bifur could ever have a normal life again. Personal feelings overrode professional integrity, and he found himself at the dwarf’s bedside more often than not. The best thing he could do in this situation was talk to Bifur and hope that something got through.

So he talked about his day. He talked about Thorin moving them on to the Blue Mountains as soon as they were able. He talked about what life would be like there. For them, for Gloin and Milja whenever his brother worked up the courage to finally court her. For Bofur and Bombur, Bifur’s dear cousins who were more like younger brothers to him. He talked so much he had almost missed when Bifur’s hand moved. However, when his eyes opened, Oin jumped into action assessing Bifur’s state.

His eyes darted around wildly as he mumbled in gibberish that would have been hard to understand even if Oin could hear properly. 

“You’re alright, mudùmel (comfort of all comforts). You’re safe.”

Bifur suddenly started shouting and reaching up towards the axe. Oin did what he could to restrain him, but Bifur had always been stronger than him. He shouted for help, and two other healers came running to help keep Bifur in place. The dwarf was shaking and screaming now as he fought to get loose. Oin kept trying to soothe him, but his words weren’t seeming to get through. Desperate, Oin grabbed onto Bifur’s hand and began manipulating it into Iglishmêk.

You’re safe. I’m here. You’re safe. I’m here.

Over and over until the dwarf finally began to calm down. Whether he could actually recognize the words or not, Oin wasn’t certain. He didn’t let up though.

I’m here. I love you.

Finally, the hands he was manipulating began to pull away until they were cradling Oin’s hands in return. 

I dreamt I was lost to you, my love. 

Oin’s hands were shaking as he made the final signs. He looked into Bifur’s eyes as he shook his head before signing once more.

Not lost, just misplaced.

Bifur smiled before sinking back into sleep. Oin just stood there, tears streaking down his face, relief bursting free. He knew the road ahead would be bumpy for them, but at least it was there for them to traverse together.

[guess-my-next-obsession]

Meet Me In The Hallway, Chapter Two

pairing: frankie morales x f!ofc (Dylan)

chapter rating: M (pining, sisterly arguments, language, marijuana consumption)

word count: 4k

series masterlist

Dylan’s four a.m. alarm rang violently on her nightstand, her phone buzzing in short bursts to aid in waking her up as though she needed it. She’d been tossing and turning all night long, something she’d dealt with most of her conscious life.

Sitting up, Dylan let out a groan as she blindly searched for her phone to silence it only to knock it off her nightstand, the thud ringing out in the dead-silent home.

“Fuck me,” she grumbled, throwing her blanket off so that she could fumble her way to her feet to search for the still blaring cellphone buzzing on the ground. Flicking on her bedside lamp, she found her phone halfway underneath her bed and grabbed it, shutting off the alarm that had long since woken her up. “Die, you stupid piece of shit.”

Dylan slid her slippers on and opened the bedroom door with a yawn, not expecting to see Frankie stepping into the hallway at the same time.

His face was tired, eyes puffy from a lack of sleep, the wrinkles in his forehead more deeply set than typical as he wore a disgruntled scowl. And yet Dylan couldn’t help the desire that brewed in her belly at the sight of him in a pair of worn out flannel pajama bottoms and nothing else even in her only half-awake morning chaos.

“Your alarm—“

“I know, I’m so sorry,” she sighed earnestly. Frankie’s scowl softened with every blink, his eyes focusing more as he entered full consciousness. He suddenly looked shocked or offended, she couldn’t decipher which, as he took in her state: a tank top and a pair of cotton boyshorts that she considered quite modest.

“Sorry,” he apologized and lifted the heels of his palms to his eyes to rub at them. “I’m still half-asleep.”

“Yeah,” she agreed. “Go back to bed, I won’t be making any more noise. Promise.”

“Alright, have, uh, have a good day at work, Dylan,” he croaked with a sleep-deep voice that she was sure would play over in her dreams tonight.

“You too, Frankie.” Dylan stayed standing there as Frankie disappeared back into his bedroom, a smitten grin on her face that probably she would’ve teased one of her friends for if they looked at a man that way, but she couldn’t bring herself to care.

After brushing her teeth and getting put together in the bathroom, she got dressed in her usual work outfit, a plain black t-shirt, black jeans, and pair of sensible (and hideous) non-slip sneakers. By the time she was through getting ready it was nearly five, so with a quick grab of her bag, she rushed into the kitchen to make a coffee and something quick on the go. Benny surprised her as she rounded the corner, making her squeal and cover her mouth.

“Jesus—“ She put her hand over her heart as he chuckled and carried on with making his breakfast. Dylan carried on, too, and walked over to the coffee machine. “Are you usually up so early?”

“Yeah, I have morning workouts,” he replied over the sizzling of eggs in a pan and the gurgle of the coffee pot.

“Oh yeah, you’re a fighter, right?”

“Think I’m one, at least,” he quipped.

“How, uh, did the movie go with my sister?” As if on cue, Lennon came waltzing into the kitchen in what she assumed was one of Benny’s t-shirts. Both women freezed as they locked eyes. Dylan turned furious, her sisters meek smile only fueling the anger she felt. “Really? My first night here and you sleep with my fucking roommate?”

“It just happened—“

“Morning.” Frankie stormed into the room with a tired scowl, though this time it seemed intentional. Dylan suddenly felt sick with guilt, her lips parting as she watched him passive aggressively prepare himself breakfast, clanking dishes and cupboards in the process.

“Sorry for waking you up,” she offered while Benny finished plating his and Lennon’s meals before immediately heading back to his bedroom.

Although she was met with silence, she didn’t let it discourage her attempts at an apology. Instead, she grabbed the mug that was supposed to be for her and poured him a cup of coffee. She walked it over to him as he scrambled eggs in a pan at the stove, his eyes finally meeting hers as she set it down on the counter beside him. “I really am sorry. I gotta go open the shop but you should bring Rina by for that cupcake later on.”

He softened the scowl he was wearing and gave her a flicker of appreciation, his smile faint but there as he nodded at her. Dylan smiled back and walked away to fill her thermos with what remained in the coffee pot. With a frantic and mumbled goodbye, she buzzed out of the house and headed out to the bakery, unaware of the chill her absence brought on to Frankie who remained there at the stove, trying to pretend the butterflies swarming in his chest didn’t exist.

“Don’t talk to me, don’t look at me, don’t—“

“It just happened,” groaned Lennon as she set her things down in the back of the bakery and clocked in for her afternoon shift. “I don’t even see what the big deal is—“

Dylan dropped what she was doing—literally, the half-frozen ball of cookie dough in her palm hit the parchment paper on the counter as she whipped her head around to glare at her sister.

“The big deal is that I have to fucking live there—I want to fucking live there—and if this shit ends weirdly between the two of you, it’s me that will have to deal with it,” Dylan scolded in as quiet a voice as she could muster. “It’s a big fucking deal, Len.”

With a sigh and a shake of her head, Dylan turned back to the tray of cookies in front of her. “Just…go watch the front counter. I got it back here.”

“Dyl—“

“Go or clock out.”

Lennon stared at the back of her sisters head for another beat before sucking her teeth and doing as she said, pushing her way through the metal swinging doors that led to the front of the bakery.

With Lennon out of her vicinity, Dylan could finally breathe. She returned to her task, setting out pre-rolled cookie dough balls on a pan so that she could have fresh cookies for the lunch rush.

While she was grateful for the quick popularity her bakery had earned in the few short months it had been up and running, it was starting to become too popular, at least for just Dylan and Lennon. They needed an extra set of hands to keep up with the demand, but with what money? The store brought in a good amount of cash daily, but almost all of it went right back into the shop, the cost of utilities and rent leaving her with only a few hundred dollars every week as her “paycheck”. Lennon worked for next-to nothing, her work-from-home corporate job taking care of all her financial needs, which was the only way Dylan could even afford her. The time was coming for her to have to make a tough choice and hire someone on, hoping that whoever she found would be willing to help out for the bare minimum of what she could pay.

“Hey!” Lennon greeted from the front, a familiar lightness in her tone that had Dylan’s brows furrowing. “Fancy meeting you guys here.”

Intrigued enough to pause her task, Dylan walked over to the sink and scrubbed her hands clean before stepping into the front to see who’d walked in.

“There she is!” Santi greeted with a big smile, his charm bringing one to Dylan’s face despite her stress and current fury over her sister’s decisions. Beside him stood Frankie and Rina, the little girl’s eyes barely visible over the counter. Further away, Benny stood near the refrigerator displaying freshly decorated cakes, chatting up Lennon.

“Daddy, I want a cookie,” Rina announced, pointing into the glass enclosure on the counter.

“Which would you like?” Dylan asked with a smile, trying to shoo away her stress so that her new roommates wouldn’t see that side of her.

“Hm,” she took a minute to peruse the selection before finally landing on one. “The red one.”

“Do you even like red velvet, baby?” Frankie asked, smoothing her curls back.

“Yeah,” she declared, though neither of them fully believed she’d ever even had it.

“Okay,” he chuckled and locked eyes with Dylan, that same spark she felt last night reigniting with something as small as one glance. “Red velvet it is.”

“And for you?” Dylan asked while she squeezed her gloves on and prepared the small paper sachet to hold the cookie.

“I don’t know,” he looked around the case of sweets. “What do you recommend?”

“He’s gonna take forever to decide, so I’m gonna make it easy on you and just get a chocolate cupcake, please,” Santi interrupted, earning a chuckle from Dylan and an eye roll from Frankie.

“Sure thing,” she gave Santi a nod as she handed Rina her cookie from over the counter. “And back to your question, Frankie, I’ve been really into our cupcake of the week. It’s a vanilla cupcake with passion fruit curd and raspberry buttercream on top, super fruity and just a little sour from the passion fruit, but the vanilla just mellows it out. I think it’s my favorite so far.”

“Well, I’ll have that, then,” he smiled. “And please, ring all this up.”

“It’s on the house—“

“No,” he shook his head and gave her the kind of smile that would’ve made her do anything he asked. Handing Santi and Frankie their cupcakes, Dylan attempted to control her blossoming crush on her new roommate. “I want to pay.”

“Fine, but Rina’s is going to be free on account of her being adorable,” Dylan gave him a playful stern look, earning a small breath of a chuckle.

“Fine,” he feigned sass.

“Is there something happening here?” Santi grinned and pointed back and forth between Frankie and Dylan, both of their cheeks turning red at the accusation.

“Shut up and go eat your cupcake,” Frankie slapped Santi’s stomach and shooed him away. “Sorry about him.”

“He’s alright,” she dismissed his apology with a friendly smile. “How, uh, how’s the cupcake?”

“Delicious,” he was quick to reply after sucking a bit of frosting off his thumb. Dylan’s eyes lowered to watch as his tongue swiped over his plump bottom lip, allowing herself just a split second to fantasize over how his tongue would feel elsewhere before she snapped herself back to reality with a clearing of her throat.

“Does Benny want anything?” she asked, nudging her chin towards Benny as he and Lennon giggled near the window. Frankie chuckled and shook his head.

“He just wanted to come with because he knew she was gonna be here,” he replied.

“Is he…what’s his whole deal?” she asked, taking in the way her little sister seemed to beam with happiness in his presence. In any other circumstance, she’d be happy for Lennon, but this wasn’t some random guy she happened to meet at a coffee shop or something—this was Dylan’s roommate.

“He’s a good guy,” Frankie assured. “A little bit of a bachelor, but a good guy.”

“So I should calm down,” she sighed, attempting to exhale her frustration over their situationship.

“I don’t know,” he shrugged, looking back at the couple. “She seems happy enough.”

“Yeah, well,” Dylan chuckled. “It’s only been a day.”

“Good things can happen overnight,” he argued, cracking a small smile. Dylan felt her heart rate quicken as hope began to creep into her thoughts. Could he be talking about more than just Benny and Lennon? Did she want him to? “Well, I guess we’ll be getting out of your hair. I’m sure you’ve got more important things to do than stand here and talk to us.”

“Honestly, talking to you has been the highlight of my otherwise shitty day,” she offered a smile. Frankie’s cheeks flushed a bit at her words, his eyes dropping to the top of Roma’s head as she leaned up against his leg, her cookie now long gone.

“What’s, uh, the total?”

“Oh, right.” Dylan rang up Frankie and Santi’s cupcakes, giving them a discount that she decided she wouldn’t tell Frankie about so as to not start another back and forth. “Alright, five dollars even.”

“Sounds a little low, but alright,” he chuckled and handed over a five dollar bill. “We’ll see you back at the house, then?”

“Five o’clock sharp,” you confirmed with a nod.

“I’m making spaghetti tonight, that cool?” Frankie asked quickly as Rina began to tug on his hand to pull him towards her uncle waiting by the door.

“Sounds great,” she giggled and waved Rina goodbye, shocked when the little girl waved back.

“Seems the cookie did the trick!” Frankie joked as he finally allowed Rina to pull him out of the bakery.

“God, I love him,” Lennon mused as she stared out of the window, watching the boys as they walked down the sidewalk.

“You just met him, Len,” Dylan sighed.

“And you think you’re any better with your obvious crush on the single-daddy?” Lennon snapped, no longer taking the gentle approach to their conflict.

“At least I haven’t fucked him, especially not on the first fucking night of knowing him. And, if you must fucking know, I don’t have a crush on him,” Dylan retorted, heading back into the kitchen. Lennon followed behind, keeping the swinging metal door open to listen for customers while continuing their argument.

“Maybe you should! It would loosen you the fuck up.”

“Loosen me up?” Dylan repeated, astounded.

“Yeah! You’ve been a bitch ever since quitting—“

“Because I’ve been poor!” Dylan reminded.

“Because you chose to be! You chose to do this—“

“Oh, right! It’s my fucking fault for wanting to pursue my dream instead of continuing to be a corporate fucking clone like you.”

“At least this corporate fucking clone has their own place. At least I can pay my bills.”

“Go the fuck home, then,” Dylan ordered.

“You’re serious?” Lennon folded her arms over her chest.

“Yes. Get out.” Dylan mimicked her sister’s stance and nudged her head towards the door, Lennon kissing her teeth in response.

“You’re fucking ridiculous,” Lennon spat as she walked over to the coat hanger and grabbed her bag before storming out.

“You’re fucking ridiculous,” Dylan mocked to the air, her sister long gone.

Channeling her frustration into her favorite outlet, Dylan fixed her attention onto the cookies in front of her, spreading them out into two perfect lines of four on the baking sheet before stuffing them inside the oven.

There was something satisfying about creating something delicious from scratch, perhaps that’s why she always loved it so much. Whenever she was in the kitchen, she was in control of the outcome, unlike her real life where she was simply an ingredient.

Before she knew it, Dylan had finished every task on her list, took care of the afternoon rush by herself, and even managed to tidy the shop up by closing time. Switching the sign that hung in the door from “open” to “closed” and locking all the doors, Dylan grabbed the leftover, unsellable cookies and headed out the back door to her car.

When she arrived back at the house, it sounded as though a party was being held. Music thumping inside could be heard from the driveway as she walked up to the front door to put her key in. Stepping inside, she was greeted by the sound of a little girl’s happy squeals, Rina running across the entryway from the kitchen as though someone was chasing her. Sure enough, right behind her was her father, stomping towards her as though he was some sort of monster. Spotting Dylan standing there with an amused smile on her face, he froze, a look of embarrassment taking the place of whatever funny face he’d been making to entertain his child.

“H-hello,” he greeted, all-too formal.

“Don’t let me interrupt,” she chuckled, pointing down the hallway. “I think there’s still an adorable little girl on the loose.”

“Daddy!” Rina stomped out of Frankie’s bedroom, clearly unimpressed by the amount of time it was taking him to catch her. “Why’d you stop being a monster?”

“Because I was embarrassed,” he chuckled, scratching his neck as he walked to her, scooping her up into his arms. “I gotta get back to making dinner, baby. You wanna help me or do you wanna go outside with Uncle Ben and Lennon?”

“Uncle Ben,” she decided, squirming from her father’s arms so that she could run through the living room to the glass door, tugging it open and closing it behind her.

“Lennon’s here?” Dylan asked as she followed Frankie into the kitchen. Frankie turned down the music and nodded as he returned to chopping garlic. Noting the shift in Dylan’s smile, he decided to pry.

“Everything good with you two?” he asked, careful not to overstep.

Dylan sighed and shook her head, opening up the box of treats and grabbing the first one. Frankie watched as she soothed herself with a cupcake, a smile of endearment growing on his face.

“Gonna ruin your appetite,” he warned playfully.

“I promise you, I won’t,” she assured with a chuckle. “Smells really good, by the way.”

“Thank you,” he blushed. “It’s the one thing I can make well.”

“I’m sure that’s not true,” she smiled and pulled up a seat at the island to watch him as he moved on to chopping parsley and basil. “How long has she been over here?”

“Not long after we got back from your shop,” he replied as he walked the chopped herbs over to the sauce he was simmering. “She seemed pretty upset, so Benny’s kind of taken it upon himself to distract her.”

Dylan scoffed and rolled her eyes.

“What’s up?” Frankie persisted, meeting her eyes.

“Nothing,” she sighed and rolled her shoulders. “I think I’m going to go take a shower before dinner’s done.”

“Okay,” he nodded, though he was reluctant to bury his curiosity. “Should be ready in thirty minutes or so.”

“Sounds good.”

After a lengthy and nearly scalding hot shower, Dylan started off towards the kitchen in a pair of oversized sweatpants and a hoodie, her caramel highlighted hair resting damp in waves over her shoulders. The sound of crowding stopped her, the kitchen seemingly holding the entire household, including Lennon. Sighing, she resigned to having a late dinner just so that she didn’t have to come face to face with her little sister. Dylan went back inside of her bedroom, and with nothing better to do, drew the curtains and called it an early night.

It was well past dark by the time she surfaced again, carefully tiptoeing past a sleeping Santiago as he laid on the couch with a woman she had yet to meet, his girlfriend she supposed. Fixing herself a plate as quietly as she could, she tiptoed her way back down the hall towards her bedroom, only to run into an exhausted Frankie as he stepped carefully out of his bedroom.

“Hey,” he greeted with a rasp that went straight to her core.

“Hey,” she breathed out, caught off guard by his shirtless state, the gray sweatpants he was wearing hanging low on his hips and doing very little to conceal his modesty. “Just grabbing dinner.”

“Finally,” he chuckled. “Tried knocking to bring you some earlier but didn’t get an answer.”

“Yeah, I was taking a depression nap,” she joked. “But that was very thoughtful of you.”

“No problem,” he smiled kindly. “Hey, I just got Rina to sleep. You, uh, wanna join me outside for my illicit activities?”

“Illicit, huh?” she chuckled. “How illicit?”

“Just a joint,” he shrugged.

“In that case, yes, I do.” Dylan waited for Frankie to throw on a t-shirt before following him out to the backyard. He turned on the yellow fairy lights that were strung over the roof of the wooden patio cover, the space turning golden and ethereal in the matter of a second. “Wouldn’t have pegged you for a smoker.”

“Used to do worse shit, but I’m too old for all that so I stick to the natural stuff,” he informed as he lit the joint in his hand. Meanwhile, Dylan scarfed her food down as though she’d been starving for days, earning a chuckle from Frankie as he exhaled the smoke. “Hungry?”

“Starving,” she groaned as he shoveled more food in her mouth ungracefully. Frankie felt more endeared by her messiness than he thought he should have been, but the sight of her being so unabashedly human warmed his heart.

“Here,” he passed her the joint and she smiled in thanks, wiping the pasta sauce from her lips so that she could hit it. With a singular cough, she exhaled the smoke and watched it dance off in clouds in the air, the golden lights illuminating it all the more. “Feel better?”

“Yeah,” she nodded and let out a chuckle. “I’m just…ever since I was a kid, I had to be a fucking parent to her. My parents were cool, but they were also fucking irresponsible and absent. I gave up my youth to make sure she was good, that she’d be able to date and afford nice things and get into a good school so she could get a good job. And now, all that shit has come true for her. She’s doing good, but…god, I’m just fucking stuck. She has her own place and nice things and doesn’t have to scrape by to live and…gets fucking laid like a normal adult. Meanwhile, I live with a bunch of dudes I don’t know, I can hardly afford the gas it takes to get to work, and I haven’t been touched by a man in…fuck, how long has it been?” She looked at Frankie with an amused smile, laughing at herself thanks to the weed now in her system. Frankie didn’t smile back, his brows laced together in concern as he listened to her intently. “I’m sorry. Dumping all this shit on you when you’re going through your own shit.”

“No,” he shook his head and reached his hand over, resting it on top of hers. Dylan’s fingers twitched with the desire to touch him back, but she refrained. “Listen, I don’t know you very well, but I know you well enough to know that good things are still out there waiting for you. You don’t have to be her parent anymore, like you said, she’s good. Now, you just have to figure out how to make yourself good.”

“Well, sex would be an easy start,” she joked, but quickly saw the panic in Frankie’s eyes. “Oh—I didn’t mean with you. Not that…not that I wouldn’t want you, I just—I just meant I should try to get laid—god, nevermind.”

Frankie laughed and shook his head, pulling his hand back to his lap.

“Come out with us this weekend,” he suggested. “I’m sure you’ll be able to find an easy lay out at the bars.”

“I’m too old for casual sex,” she sighed with a frown. “Gotta have a connection first. So annoying.”

“I’m right there with ya,” he chuckled. “I haven’t fucked anyone in at least a year. And now with Rina sharing my bedroom…doubt it’ll happen anytime soon.”

“Well,” she plucked the joint from his hand and lifted it to her lips, taking a drag before handing it back over. “To celibacy.”

Frankie laughed and nodded, taking another hit as well. “To celibacy. And good things.”

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[dexrm]

kare no hime | 彼の姫

This story will contain mature themes.  Read at your own risk.

Grieving over Sukuna’s death led to a a new beginning in your life.  Slowly recovering from what happened, you decide to move out of that village.    

Chapter eight - New beginning

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-

The first thing you experienced when waking up was a headache.  Your head felt like something was pounding it from the inside.  Like someone set fire in there.

It was your shared room with Sukuna.  You could tell.

Except, multiple things were missing.  Sukuna’s old robes, his mattress, and his small drawer where he keeps hidden stashes of confectionaries.  You spotted two dust bunnies and a small spider web on the ceiling.  The pot of flowers you left by the window have withered and died from the lack of water.  

You attempt to stand up.  And you did.  Successfully.

Looking at your hands, you were startled by how ugly they were.  The tip of your fingers were swollen and dry to the point bits of skin started to fall off.  

You stumble back onto your mattress in disbelief of how hideous your hands look now.  You started to shake, covering yourself with the blanket, which wasn’t enough.  

The sound of a you bawling echoes.  It never happened before when you talked.  It just happens, you were alone. 

He is gone.

Unable to stand the pain of losing your beloved, you cry into your pillow, unbothered even if the neighbours could hear you.  The man you trusted the most was gone.  He wasn’t coming back.  Whether you screamed or cried, it didn’t matter, you couldn’t even tell at this point.

Footsteps approached your bedroom.

“May I come in?” Aoi’s voice asked.  She slid open the door.

Aoi was wearing an all white kimono.  Anju was next to her, wearing the same colours.  Her face had heavy dark circles and has gotten skinnier.

“Fushiguro, the children and I will be leaving this village,” Aoi weakly whispered.  “The villagers think Tsuku is Ryomen Sukuna.” she didn’t make eye contact.  She just stared at the floor.  “You may come with us, but we won’t help you find his body.”

“I’ll do it,” you scramble up and grab Aoi’s hand.  “I know where he was last,” you cry.  

Aoi gently holds your hand.

“For sixteen days, you have been nonstop waking up from a nightmare and then falling back to sleep.  Your injuries have not recovered properly, Fushiguro,” Aoi still didn’t dare look at you in the eye.  You weren’t sure if she was sad, or just purely tired from caring for you.  She took a deep breath.  “We will move somewhere near the capital, I have already informed my husband.  Tomorrow morning is when we’ll depart.”

“I’ll think about it,” you whisper.  “How is Anfuku doing?”

“In the kitchen.  He’s gotten angrier,” Aoi gaze darkened.  “His obsession has only gotten worse.  He’s especially angry with the fact there was no cremation ceremony.”

Aoi grabs Anju’s hand, slowly walking away from your room.

You take one step out of room you were confined in for sixteen days.  The hallways were the same.  Just dirtier.

Steadily, you make sure you don’t fall or trip on the slightly painful journey to the kitchen.  

Anfuku was sitting with his legs curled, arms wrapped around his head.  He looked up at you when the door slid open.  His eyes weren’t red or filled with tears.  Just puffy.

“H-hey Anfuku, how are you doing?” you ask, entering the room.

“Why didn’t you bring his body back?” Anfuku yelled.

The silence only made you feel worse.

“I couldn’t, Anfuku,” you stutter.  “My body was weak from the cold. Tsuku was too big and heavy for me,” you begin to swallow your agony.  “He wasn’t going to make it, Anfuku.”

The child glared at you.

“If there is no body to prove he’s dead, he’s still alive!” Anfuku shrieked and begins bawling.  Not in a bratty way.  He was genuinely so heartbroken to see Sukuna gone.  “We need to search for him!”

You kneel and wrap your arms around him.

“It’s going to be okay,” you hush him.

-

The following day was quiet.

Until Toji Zenin appeared at the house again.

“I heard you guys are moving?” he asked Aoi, sitting in the living room with her.

“Yes,” Aoi replied, her voice was now toneless.  “We cannot stay here anymore.”

“Not yet!” Anfuku begged.  “We don’t know if he’s actually dead!”

“Anfuku,” Aoi’s voice was stern for the first time.  “Tsuku’s body has probably been taken by the wolves by now.  It’s not worth going back in the forest.”

“I’ll look for Tsukus body if that makes you happy, Anfuku!” Toji smiled.  

Your eyes widen at his sentence.

“Oh no, please don’t.  It is too cold for you to do that,” Aoi quickly retorted.  “Anfuku is just a child, he will get over it in a while.”

“I have thick clothing suitable for the cold Japanese winters, Aoi,” Toji then looked at you.  “If I can confirm his body isn’t there, Anfuku can’t do much after that, can he?” his gaze flickers with the uneasy, but flirtatious kind of fire.  “Fushiguro can lead the way.”

They all looked at you.

“I-I can,” you pushed yourself to speak.

“In fact, we can leave right now,” Toji stands up.

-

The path to that exact forest haunted you.

Even in your nightmares.

“Now we’re out of the village,” Toji’s tone transitioned quick.  “Who is that man?” he looks down at you with an empty stare.  “Why aren’t you with Ryomen Sukuna?”

“The man was my fiancee,” you reply, careful with how your face reacted to his words.  “I do not know where Ryomen Sukuna is.”

“Bullshit,” Toji laughed quietly to himself.  “Ryomen Sukuna doesn’t let his slaves go that easily, he either eats them or kills them.” he continued to laugh to himself about how ridiculous it was you managed to escape.  

“Why was I the bait?” you ask.

He stops laughing.

“What bait?” he asked.

“You placed me near the village he was massacring, why?” 

“I wanted you to cook for him and stay by his side, I guess I wanted to see how he reacted,” Toji casually replies, as if you could’ve died.  

“What about my family?” you lash out.  “Did he kill them?”

“Woman, I didn’t contact them ever since the wedding night,” Toji seemed relatively calm seeing you stressed.

You felt the pain inside you working up again.  You shut your eyes tightly to avoid crying in front of that man.

“Let’s go,” Toji nudged you.  Not even a drop of sympathy.

You took one step, and then another.  The snow was not as heavy this time.  But you had trouble remembering what directions you took.  After all, it’s been a couple of days.

“Why do you want to know where his body is?” you ask.  He was behind you.

“It’s not anywhere you can find a four armed beast roaming this forest,” Toji smiled.  You felt your entire body freeze once again.  Toji wasn’t stupid.  He never was.  A man like him calculates every move and doesn’t spare a detail.  “Who knows if your fiancee was slaughtered by Ryomen Sukuna, he wouldn’t allow you to be married.”

“I don’t think Sukuna would care about my marital status,” you continue walking.  You tried as hard as you could to remember where you went.  All you knew was you went straight, no turns.

“You’re right,” Toji was now beside you, laughing.  “The fact you even survived a day with him is impressive, Fushiguro,” his oddly casual voice made you shiver.  

It was that hill.

You recognized it despite the lighter snow.

There were no traces of blood or dead man.  It was nothing but sticks and dead grass.  Slowly approaching the spot where he passed, you felt your stomach drop.  

Nothing.  Whatever took him didn’t spare a single bone.

“Are you sure it was here?” Toji asked.

“I’m sure.”

Toji takes a closer look, leaning in his head.

You swear you saw a smile just flash upon his face.

“I guess Ryomen Sukuna didn’t spare your husband,” Toji immediately walked away.

“How do you know he killed him?” you didn’t move.  You then sat down.

“What else could have happened?” Toji turned around to see you sitting.  “Your husband know’s nothing of jujutsu,” he bended down to stare at the almost crying you.

You put your arms around your knees.

“You.. “ Toji stopped at that word to close his eyes for a moment.  “You should get over it.” his sharp, cold tone made you snap.

“You never loved your fiancee,” you whisper is a rather aggressive manner.  Standing up and quickly storming back onto the path back to the village.

You knew that Toji was behind you.  You felt so many emotions, unable to describe them.  But what made you feel horrible was the fact Toji never felt sympathy.  Both Sukuna and Toji were heartless monsters who manipulate vulnerable people for their own gain.

Walking faster wasn’t an option.  He would catch up.

“Why did you use me as a bait for Sukuna?” you firmly asked.  “Why did you use me as a bait while knowing I will probably die?”

The sound of Toji’s footsteps stopped.

It was silent for a moment.

Toji frowns, walking past you.

“There’s a reason why I chose you over your sister,” 

-

You spotted Anfuku in front of the house, sitting.  He had his little hands on his cheeks, patiently waiting for you.

“Anfuku,” you call out.

“Did you find him?” he practically jumped from the staircase racing towards you.  

You bend down to meet the young boy’s face.

“We couldn’t find his remains.  I’m sorry,” you whisper.

Anfuku pushes you onto the ground.  You didn’t realize how strong and rough a little boy could be until now.  His eyes teared up as he punched you in the arm.

“Tsuku is the strongest man alive, he would never die!” he screamed, running back into the house.  Anfuku left a bad bruise on you, and yes, it hurt.  But he was a child.  A child who couldn’t accept reality.  You couldn’t blame him.

You feel a sharp presence behind you.

“What a brat,” Toji laughed.

Unphased by Toji’s comment, you don’t reply.  Instead, you head back inside the house.  Only a few hours, you were tired.  You wanted to sleep.  Sleep for a long time.  Preferably not wake up until you see him again.

The bed you went to sleep in was comfy that evening.

-

You find yourself on a bridge.  A stone bridge, carefully carved.  There was a pond underneath with lily pads.  White water lilies laid on the pads.  A beautiful, slender crane stood on the edge of the pond.  The crane just stood there.

Walking towards the crane, you still keep a decent distance between you and the animal.  You notice something else.

Sukuna.

He now was on the opposite side of the pond.

Rushing back to the bridge, he glares at you.

You stop.

That was not your fiancee.  That is Ryomen Sukuna.

-

It was quite chilly in the middle of the night, you still managed to have a panic attack from the dream.  You missed him.  You missed his touch.  You missed everything about him.

Sliding the room door open, you walk past Aoi and Anfuku’s room while putting on a warm robe.

The moonlight was bright tonight.

You remember your conversation with Sukuna on a full moon night.  Then it all washed upon you.  Sobbing started again.  That imaginary fox you met in Kyoto told you you’d bring misfortune to the men around you.  It was unclear if it’s an actual god, or jujutsu tricks.  But in the end, what the fox said was true.  You were the reason why Tsuku was dead.

“You should shut up,” a pissed off voice from on top of the roof yelled.

You knew it was Toji, but you couldn’t stop.  It just made you even sadder.  He wouldn’t understand.  He would never.

Spotting his face peeking from the roof, you see his pink face and drowsy expression stare at you.  

“Why are you crying?  Shut up!” he held up a big brown jug and poured clear liquid into his mouth.  Even with the chilly air, you could smell the alcoholic beverage; sake.

You wipe the tears, sniffing.

“Y-you should go back inside, it’s cold inside,” you avoid eye contact, walking back to the front door.

Toji’s hand suddenly flew down the shingles, hanging from the roof, just inches away from your forehead.

He grabbed your wrist and lifted it.  Feeling a few seconds of elevation, your entire body flew onto the roof with his strength.

“What do you want?” you snap, standing up on top of the shingles.  The view was indeed nice.  You could see the forest from the top.

“Do you want to know why I used you?” Toji whispered, pouring even more sake into his mouth.  He laid down.  “I hate you.  I really hate you.”

You feel your entire body ache.

He looked at you with furious, yet calm eyes.

“Women like you irritate me,” Toji continued with his rant.  His widened eyes were now slightly red.  “Women like you..  I hate you.” Toji’s tone sharpened. 

 Feeling slightly hurt, you choose to ignore his words.  You look up at the sky.  You knew you were someone with proper morales.  Toji had no valid reason to hate you.  Right?

“Do not ignore me,” Toji drowsily said.  He reached for your hand and squeezed it.  Thank god he didn’t have nails.  “Don’t you think I’m handsome?” he laughed.

He stared at you.

You shake off his hard grip.

“I didn’t know someone like you drinks,” you finally reply.

“You’re right,” he lifts the pot sized jug as if it they were feathers.  “I hate the taste of alcohol,” he continues to pour the liquid into his mouth, wide open.  “Fushiguro, do you want to know why I hate alcohol?” he didn’t even give you time to respond.  “When I was little, my uncle used to force me to chug down alcohol as a punishment.  Good thing is, you can’t feel anything after drinking!”

You then thought of your own life.

You were the youngest of three.  There was your older sister and brother, and you.  The favoritism was inevitable.  Your older brother was obviously the golden child--because he was a man.  Men could work.  Men could study.  But thankfully, he was a kind man, but didn’t speak to you very often.  Between you and your sister was much more complicated.  Your sister was elegant and intelligent, to a degree where you thought she was smarter than your brother, who has a teacher.  She was the one who taught you calligraphy and reading.  You still weren’t sure why your parent’s chose you over her to marry Toji.  Not only was she older, her beauty and skill in the arts could not be compared to you. 

“Do you think I’m beautiful?” you bluntly asked.

“You have pale skin, red lips, I don’t know the standards..” Toji replied.

You turn to directly face him.

“My sister has always been considered more beautiful than me,” you smile while speaking.  

“Do you know what she doesn’t have?” Toji’s voice deepens.

“What?”

“She doesn’t have the aptitude to deal with Ryomen Sukuna,” 

You feel your hands clenching. 

“And I do?” you ask, clearly pissed.

“Sukuna doesn’t want a woman who can sing and dance all day,” Toji laughs.  “Any women can do that.”

“And what can I do?  Cook?” you sarcastically laugh back.

“No,” he responds.  “You look like a women he cherished in the past.”

-

You woke up on that roof that morning.

“Why are you two on the roof?” Aoi shouted, her things packed onto a cart.

“Sorry Aoi, she was sad last night, so I had to comfort her,” Toji almost immediately replied enthusiastically.

He casually jumps down and reaches his hand out for you to jump down.

“Are you ready to leave?” Aoi asked you.

“Y-yes,” you reply.  

You go onto the cart as the man in charge of the horses starts whipping them to start running.

-

The new village was supposedly near Kyoto.

Not only was it much smaller than the previous village, but the people there were much more humble and welcoming.

This time, you and Aoi had to share a room.  So did Anju and Anfuku.  It was supposed to be temporary, according to Aoi.

“Have you heard what’s happening?  We are so glad you guys moved to a smaller village like ours,” a lady dressed rather poorly commented as you head out of the new house.

“What happened?” you ask.

“There is this beast massacring villages,” the lady said.  “Ryomen Sukuna.  Have you heard of him?  He’s currently in this area.”

You freeze at her words.

“R-Ryomen Sukuna is dead,” your voice stuttered.  “He’s dead.”

“Nonsense!  My cousin who works in the south said his friend was killed by that beast,” the woman went on.  “That was just a few days ago.”

[pine-clan]

.. (Moon 73)

Two toms were laughing in front of a cave entrance.

"Ooh Bee is going to be so proud of us!" The chestnut furred tom, Vervain, chirped.

"Yeah!! I wonder if she'll let us have a day off!" The big silver tom, Warren sneered.

A huge, red lynx point molly, Bee, walked in, Warren and Vervain didn't notice her yet.

"Ahem." She loudly announced her arrival. Warren and Vervain sat up from laughing at the ground and stood there.

"I assume you got him?" She tilted her head.

"Yes commander! We did, we did!" Vervain replied with his scratchy voice.

"You two are dismissed. I'll speak to our little friend now~". Vervain and Warren nodded before the two started frolicking out to the fields.

Bee gave a grin before entering the cave.

There he was, the deputy of RavineClan all captured, tied up with poison ivy, making sure he doesn't have a easy time getting out. Raggedhawk saw Bee and bared his teeth a bit.

"Well well well, look what we have here?" Bee walked closer to the tom. "Raggedhawk huh? How terrifying."

Bee lowered herself to the ground, seemingly toying with him. "So you're the one the clans seem fond of huh? That's so stupid." Bee tilted her head.

"Release me now! Or you'll deal with dire consequences!" Raggedhawk demanded, tail all puffy.

"Mm, I'll tell you what, pipsqueak. You, join under my group, I'll let you go with no harm. How's that hun?" Bee looked down at Raggedhawk.

"I rather rot away and not see the skies than join you.." Raggedhawk widened his eyes.

".. Then you sealed your fate." Bee narrowed her eyes, and did a grin.

"Deal with him, girls. He's hideous to look at." Bee commended. There was a brown furred molly and a yellow color point molly entering the den. Bee turned around and is going to walk out the den.

Raggedhawk had a terrified expression and reached out for the exit.

"You ain't going nowhere." The brown furred molly, Mint, stomped down at Raggedhawk's paw.