#THAT HATE IS NOT AN OUTSIDE FORCE THAT'S HER OWN HATE FOR HERSELF FROM HERSELF OF HERSELF.

[distort-opia]

It's interesting to me that both times Thomas sees a vision of a demonic Ellen, she's blank and wide eyed, chin stained red and crying blood. The first time, it makes sense she'd have blood spilling out of her mouth. Orlok called upon Ellen ("Dream of me. Only of me"), and she's in a trance, sleepwalking outside and mirroring Orlok's own movements-- appearing to straddle Thomas as Orlok prepares to feed on him:

Ellen is there as Orlok drinks Thomas' blood. When we're shown her falling down, it's implied she was levitating just as Thomas and Orlok were levitating. So, whenever Ellen is in a trance, she and Orlok are one (as the actual possession moment that Von Franz witnessess implies too, when Ellen's words are essentially Orlok's words). And so, in a twisted way, this scene is a threesome (a la Hannibal/Will/Alana in Hannibal NBC, for people with similar tastes). I mean, if Thomas moaning and naked Ellen showing up above him wasn't enough of a clue to the sexual nature of the interaction, Orlok naked and grotesquely grinding on top of him as he drinks his blood is the nail in the coffin (heh).

But the second time Thomas sees a vision of demonic Ellen, it's while the two of them are having actual-and-not-implied sex. Clearly Ellen is under Orlok's influence before it, knowing exactly what buttons to push... but even though she says "He told me how foolish you were. How fearful. How like a child. How you fell into his arms as a swooning lily of a woman," none of these things were actually said by Orlok. We know because we saw them talk, and the only information Orlok passed on to Ellen directly was how Thomas "sold Ellen for gold". It's another way through which it's reinforced that Ellen was there as Orlok fed upon Thomas, seeing his behavior. By showing disdain for it, she's prodding Thomas' biggest insecurity, and what cowes him most about Orlok: a presence so intensely and overpoweringly masculine. So when Ellen delivers the last blow by insulting Thomas' sexual prowess and downright comparing him to Orlok, he takes her roughly and she calls on Orlok to see them do it (much like Orlok called upon Ellen to see how he was feeding on Thomas). But in the middle of it when he recoils, Thomas doesn't get a flash of Orlok. He sees Ellen, blood pouring out of her mouth and crying blood.

I can't help but see a parallel with this:

Ellen is clearly in a trance when Orlok is dying, expelling all of the blood he drank from Ellen out of his eyes and his mouth... She is one with him as it happens. So is the vision Thomas sees both times a sort of premonition of Ellen and Orlok's death? Orlok's dying moment superimposed onto Ellen, blood streaming out of her eyes, mouth open in a silent scream? Even the blood on demonic Ellen's chest, in that first vision, is similar to the stain of blood she has in the final scene where she sacrifices herself.

Maybe I'm just reading too much into it, but it's yet another subtle way in which Ellen, Thomas and Orlok are intertwined, and it's been on my mind the past couple of days. Sex and death, death and sex... There's many other parallels for their dynamic: the way Ellen and Orlok's final scene contrasts with the very first one between Ellen and Thomas (Thomas being asked to stay and give Ellen what she wants but still leaving, Orlok being asked to stay and give Ellen what she wants and staying), but also the scene in which Orlok feeds on Thomas too (Thomas being forced to lay on the bed while Orlok drinks his blood, Ellen willingly laying on the bed and allowing Orlok to drink her blood). So I like to think Thomas saw those glimpses of demonic Ellen in that specific form because she and Orlok were dying as Thomas held her hand-- a truly powerful psychic, broadcasting her shared destiny with Orlok to the one person they'd both loved and hated, cared for and terrified in turn.

[nebulainatree]

Ohhhh Folly my beloved. I understand you like no one else does. I get it. Cycles of self hatred and not forgiving your inner child. I get you Folly AUGH IM SO ILL IM FUCKED UP ABOUT THIS FOREVER. AUGHHHH. FOLLYYYY

[kaisturni]

hands on me | c. sturniolo

→ chris x fem!reader

→ plot; chris and y/n get into one of their usual screaming matches, but this one ends a little less usual than normal.

→ warnings; smut, fingering, swearing, f!oral (receiving), choking, unprotected sex (STAY SAFE), dirty talk, use of names (baby)

→ hi pretty lovies :) this is my first time writing a smut fanfic so PLSSS let me know if you guys like it, and if there are any requests, don’t hesitate to share! almost nothing is off limits ;) enjoy!

NOT PROOFREAD EEK

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y/n and chris had been in a screaming match all day.

from sunrise to the middle of the night, it's taken both nick and matt holding the two back so they don't entangle and kill each other.

"whatever," nick breaths, "i'm so fucking done with you guys. i know you don't get along but this is ridiculous."

"yeah" matt agreed, letting out a sigh. "i for one am tired as shit, try not to murder the other while we're asleep," the other two brothers pace back into their respective rooms, slamming the door one after another.

"great!" y/n starts, "who am i supposed to sleep with now, guaranteed they both just locked their doors." she whispered to herself.

"god, who cares? you could sleep on the street for all i fucking care." chris yells, watching y/n stand outside of nick's door, not daring to make an advance inside.

the girl shot daggers at him, "whatever chris, tell that to your fucking brothers, they're the ones who let me live here." y/n huffs out as she shoves chris full force out of the way, preparing for a sleep on the boy's couch. but before she can even reach the end of the hallway, chris grabs y/n by the throat and slams her against the wall.

y/n hits the wall, exuding air on impact, hands gripping onto chris', which has her easily pinned on to the wall.

"did you seriously just put your hands on me?" he said lowly, closing the distance between him and

y/n. the girls heart was racing at a mile a minute, unsure of what her actions would cause next. she was so confident yelling at chris frequently from across the room, but suddenly powerless in his grasp, she was, briefly, at a loss for words.

"yeah," y/n managed to grunt out. she had never been this close to chris before, let alone feel his body inches away from her own skin. his eyes were dark and low, jaw tight and sharp, his features barely illuminated in the light. as much as she hated him, she found him punishingly attractive.

"and what are you going to do about it?" she dared to whisper to him, trying to keep as much confidence in her tone as she could, not letting him see how much she withered under his touch.

from a few heavy breaths, y/n's throat still in his hand, he shoved her into his room and shut the door behind him. he flipped the two around so she was again back against the wall.

"what am i going to do about it?" he taunted, less than an inch between their bodies, breaths mingling and eyes locked in contact.

"you have no idea what i could do to your right now," chris spoke lowly, uninterested in letting his brother's hear the way he is speaking to the girl he supposedly wants to kill.

"if only you just kept that pretty little mouth shut, maybe i could've showed you sooner," his words faded out, his hand around her neck tightened slightly, as he brushed his lips against hers, earning a barely audible moan from the girl under his grip.

"chris" y/n managed to breath out, suddenly feeling a sense of neediness and wanting from him. is it bad she could be so turned on from how rough chris was being with her? she had never seen this side of him before, the side of him that she didn't think existed to her. before this he was ready to take her head off and so was she. but now she could feel the heat rising in her legs, and shocking her stomach, anticipating what was to come next.

"what? don't act like you don't want it, you think i can't tell that you do? look at you." chris taunted, gently using his teeth to tug on her bottom lip. y/n felt like her heart was going to beat out of her chest.

unknowing what came over her, y/n remarked back "oh, i'd want this. just not with you," she could see the anger growing in his face as she continued, "anyone could do whatever you'd do better." she knew what the words she was saying would lead her. she almost hoped chris got the message.

"is that so? i'll show you you're wrong." chris swiftly tossed y/n to the bed, pinning her down, yet again cementing their faces inches away from each other.

"you'll be begging me to do this more often when we're done," beginning to leave sloppy kisses against y/n's neck. "i'd destroy you,"

"so destroy me," y/n dared.

chris smiled against her skin, wet kisses becoming dark hickies all over her neck and jaw. his lips slowly moved down to her covered chest, frustrated with the fabric, he tugged on her shirt, signaling to take it off.

y/n sat up in the bed ripping her shirt over her head, his eyes meeting with her bare chest. "no bra, huh?" he said before claiming her right nipple in his mouth, kissing, sucking, and biting on it, and doing it harder with each moan he earned from her.

"i never wear one" she admitted, eyes screwed shut in the unexpected pleasure that chris sturniolo was bringing to her.

"i hope that's not the only thing you never wear," he said against her skin, kisses continuing down her body until he reached her inner thighs, with only a thin layer of fabric separating her core and his lips.

y/n gasped as he yanked her to the edge of the bed, making her wet shorts visible to him even in the dim light. he smirked looking up at her,

"fucking soaked," he said what she already knew, throwing her head back and screwing her eyes shut in anticipation, "chris, please." she begged, thinking how pathetic it was that the few words she was able to get out gave chris everything he wanted to hear in that moment, but she didn't care. 

"since you're begging for me," he taunted, taking off y/n's barely there sleeping shorts, taking in how perfect her core was dripping under the light, practically calling his name. never would he had anticipating being in this moment, but god he knew he was lying if he said he didn't think about it.

he teased her by trailing small kisses and nibbles against her inner thigh, making her wetter by the second. before y/n knew, he was licking and sucking down her slit, arms pushing her legs further into her chest to get even deeper.

gripping the sheets with white knuckles, y/n found it impossible not to scream his name as he stuck his tongue inside her, moaning against her pussy as the vibrations drove her closer to her high.

"chris i'm gonna cum," she said panting, edging him to keep going, not wanting the pleasure to stop as she found her hands tangled in his hair. but before y/n managed to reach her high, he pulled his face away from between her legs. mouth dripping with all her juices, he brought his lips to hers, kissing her for the first time.

the two kissed each other hungrily, each fighting for dominance over the other, but chris ultimately won as he stuck to fingers inside of her, causing y/n to gasp, prompting chris to shove his tongue into her mouth.

"how am i supposed to hate you when i know your pussy is this good?" chris asked between sloppy wet kisses, his fingers continuing to pump in and out of her, wetness leaking onto his bedsheets.

y/n could feel the knots tying in her stomach, signaling she was close, “c-chris i’m so fucking close,” she said absolutely breathless, weakly gripping his moving wrist.

his two fingers slowed their pace, and she whined at the loss of contact. y/n couldn’t help but squeeze her thighs together, in order to do something to stop the aching between her legs.

“not so fast,” chris said, peeling off his hoodie and sweats, leaving him in just black calvin klein underwear. “spread,” he demanded.

y/n obliged without hesitation, aching and ready for him to be inside her. chris used his thumb to rub her clit in circles, causing her to arch her back and moan in pleasure, chris could feel his dick aching to fuck her, but he wasn’t going to let her have it easily.

“c-chris please,” she begged, “please what, baby?-

baby?

-tell me,” he said, knowing exactly what she wanted from him, “please f-fuck me- shit,”

as soon as those words left her mouth, chris removed his underwear, his length springing up, leaking with pre-cum and burning with desire.

he ran the tip on y/n’s slit, groans exiting from both of their mouths. without warning, he slammed his entire length into her, causing her to gasp at the feeling.

tears ran down y/n’s cheek as she moaned out chris’ name and profanities at the pace that he was pounding into her,

“you look so pretty when i fuck you, baby,” he growled in her ear, “look at you, doing so good at taking all of me,” he said before sensually connecting their lips.

y/n had no words to say, only muffled sounds in between kisses coming out of her mouth from being completely fucked out by chris, and it didn’t take long for her to feel her orgasm coming back.

“oh, chris, i’m gonna cu-,”

“wait, you cum when i say, okay?” he said lowly, before quickening his pace, feeling his own climax coming too.

“i can’t take it, please let me cum,” y/n pleaded, feeling completely buzzed from all the sensation going in her body.

“cum baby, i’m right there too,” he breathed out, feeling her walls clench around him causing chris to explode inside her, filling her up at the same time she reached her own high.

chris pumped a few more times in and out of her, both groaning as he pulled his dick out of her, then falling on the bed next to the sexed out girl next to him.

the two looked at each other for a moment, and chris softly kissed her, finding his way to be on top of her again. he pulled their lips apart and ran a hand through her hair,

“why do we do this? i’m tired of hating you, why do you act like that with me?” y/n said, staring at chris’ piercing blue eyes above her. he sighed, “i really don’t know,” he started, “i guess the way i feel about you just made me angry for some reason. it always made me mad how close you are with nick and matt, and i guess i kept it up too long,” he admitted, playing with the ends of her soft hair.

“you should’ve just told me,” y/n retorted, placing a gentle hand on the side of chris’ face, and he nuzzled into it. “i know, and i’m sorry. can we be done with that, please?” he asked her, cautiously.

“of course we can,” y/n smiled. chris smiled back at her, connecting their lips once more.

“okay,” he began grabbing her hand, “let’s go get cleaned up. we can have another fight in the shower,” smiling deviously at her after making the statement.

y/n rolled her eyes at the boy, and quickly followed him into the bathroom, locking the door behind them.

[mapis-putellas]

𝑮𝒓𝒐𝒖𝒄𝒉𝒚 𝒎𝒐𝒓𝒏𝒊𝒏𝒈𝒔

Pairing: Alexia Putellas x reader

Words: 1592

Warnings: none

Summary: Alexia’s grouchy, and you can do nothing but find her utterly adorable.

Notes: Welcome to the grouchy Alexia series

The morning light streams in through the curtains, casting a soft glow over the room. Alexia's body remains snuggled up against your own, warm and peaceful in sleep.

Her breathing was steady, and soft exhales escape her lips with every breath. Her expression was completely relaxed, a stark contrast to her usual stoic demeanor. The warmth of her body combined with the sound of the rain outside seemed to only make her appear even more comfortable. It was an unusually vulnerable moment, seeing the usually cold and reserved girl so relaxed. Every once in awhile she'd make a tiny sigh, or shift slightly closer to you.

You were already awake and had been for a little while. As your hand combs through her hair, you scroll aimlessly through your phone, switching between doom scrolling on TikTok and swiping through instagram. Alexia had managed to persuade you to go on a hike with her today, and you hoped -as your eyes flickered from her sleeping figure to the raindrops covered window- that she'd cancel because honestly, you don't quite feel like getting both soaked and sweaty.

Alexia remains asleep for while longer before her body suddenly shifts as she slowly starts to wake up. Her eyelashes flutter she blinks, adjusting to being awake, and she lightly rubs her head against your chest in a cat-like manner. She remains silent, but you could tell by her breathing that she was fully awake and simply taking in the moment. One of her legs moves slightly, just enough to tangle with yours.

You lock your phone and drop it onto the bed next to you before craning your head down to press a tender kiss to the top of her head. "Morning, darling." You murmur in greeting.

"Mhmm," Alexia murmurs quietly, the sound coming off as a sleepy hum. She takes a moment before forcing her eyes open and lifting her head up to face you. "Good morning, amor.” She mutters, her voice soft and quiet.

Her cheek is slightly marked and has a small indent from how her face was squished up against your chest, and you can't help but smile as you gently run the backs of your fingers against it. Alexia smiles tiredly as her heavy lids threaten to close.

"Did you sleep well?" You wonder, cupping the back of her head as it resettles back against your chest.

Alexia's shoulders visibly relax as she sinks further into your chest and lets out a sleepy and contented humming sound in response to your touch. "I did," she murmurs softly, her voice slightly hoarse in her half-asleep state.

"Good," you muse as you hold her warm body close to your own. Your eyes once again drift to the window where the rain was seemingly coming down harder. "You still wanna go on that hike?" You ask, secretly hoping she'd say no but knowing it was extremely unlikely.

Alexia, even in her half-asleep state, knows exactly what you were up to. Her eyes were closed, but she lets out a small, barely-noticeable sigh at your question. She feels your grasp tighten around her, almost as if you were trying to keep her from moving, or getting out of bed.

"Yes," she answers simply, though her lack of explanation and elaboration makes it seem as though she wasn't going to change her mind about it.

You can't help but frown. "But baby, it's raining. We're going to get soaked."

The Spaniard doesn't budge an inch, her head still resting against your chest. Though her eyes remain closed and she seems relatively relaxed, there was a slight tone of annoyance in her voice. She always hates when people question her decisions. In response to your comment on the rain, she replies in a matter-of-fact tone.

"And?"

"Someone's grouchy." You mutter, shifting beneath her weight a little. Alexia grunts as she sits herself up, rubbing her hands over her eyes before turning to face you with an eyebrow raised in either amusement or annoyance. You couldn’t quite tell.

"I am not grouchy." She retorts in a low tone, her messy blonde hair falling to the side. She was clad in her pyjamas; one of your oversized hoodies and a pair of sleep shorts.

You sit up too, leaning back on your arms. "No?" You tease playfully as you nudge her with your knee. She glares at you, and you just about manage to refrain from smirking as you kick off the blankets. "Sorry baby, but you are. Just a little." You hold your thumb and pointer finger about a millimetre apart before climbing out of the bed with intention of making you both some coffee.

Alexia responds to your playful teasing with a faint roll of her eyes, not bothering to deny your comment for a fact she knew there was at least some truth to it. She sits up straighter, her head cocking to the side slightly as she watches as you climb out of bed.

"What are you doing?" She reaches out and loosely grasps your wrist.

You raise an eyebrow. "Going to make coffee my love. Just like I do every morning." You explain.

Alexia's sleepy eyes slightly narrow into a small glare at your answer. She wasn't quite in a good mood, and the thought of you leaving was not what she needed right now. She lightly tugs at your arm, almost in a pouty manner, as if trying to silently express her desire to want you to stay with her.

Ahh. So you had a grouchy Alexia on your hands this morning. Easing yourself back down onto the bed, your lips quirk up into a knowing smile as you lightly tug your arm out of her loose hold.

"You don't want coffee?" You reach up and tuck a loose strand of hair behind her ear.

Alexia's pouting expression instantly softens ever so slightly at your smile. She was never a fan of her weaknesses, and she definitely wasn't a fan of other people seeing her them. However, you were one of the very few people that she made an exception for. She didn't have to put on a tough and cold persona around you, and she prefers that.

She leans her head towards your hand, slightly brushing her cheek against your palm with a quiet and soft sigh.

"I want coffee." She murmurs.

You lightly trail the pad or your thumb over the warm skin. "Then you need to let me get up. I can't make it from here baby."

Alexia responds to your logical answer with an almost child like huff of stubbornness and irritation. She obviously doesn't want to let you up, but she knows that your reasoning was both logical and correct, and she didn't really have a good comeback for it.

After a moment of hesitation she finally lets go of your arm.

For the second time today, you climb out of bed, straightening up your shorts before letting out a soft sigh and holding out your hand. "Come on grouchy." You tease, playfully wiggling your fingers.

Alexia's expression is one of reluctant acceptance, the small frown still present on her face as she reaches out and takes your hand before swinging her legs over the side of the bed.

You immediately pull her into your arms, her body resting flush against your own. You lean in and press a long, obnoxious kiss to her cheek, pulling away with a loud 'mwaa' sound. Alexia glares, and you laugh softly as you slip your hand beneath her shirt to rest against the warm, bare skin of her back.

"So grouchy." You tease.

Alexia huffs."I do not like you right now." She says in a sarcastic tone as she leans her head against your chest, a small way of silently telling you that she actually does like you.

"You don't huh?" You play along. "I guess I'll just have to stay here when you go on that hike. Such a shame. I was really looking forward to it." You tighten your grasp around her slightly when you feel her arms hook tightly around your waist.

Alexia, despite her grumpy and irritated mood, has to suppress a small smirk at your answer.

"Oh, you were?" She responds in an equally sarcastic tone, looking up at you with a small, almost mocking pout. Her eyes bore into yours, playfully challenging you.

"Mhh.” you muse, cupping her face and trailing your thumbs over her eyebrows, lightly smoothing them out.

Alexia's eyes close slightly as she subconsciously leans into your touch. She has always found your touch comforting. The way you delicately trail your thumbs over her eyebrows, smoothing them out and feeling the softness of her skin beneath them, seems to instantly relax her. She lets out a soft sigh that was halfway between content and disappointed, as if she were both annoyed at how your gentle touch was working, and almost satisfied by it.

"I think I want coffee now." She whispers as her eyes flutter open again, lightly grasping your wrists to pull your hands away from her face. There was only so much softness and gooeyness she could take before her morning coffee, and she'd almost reached her limit.

You nod knowingly as you kiss her forehead before stepping away from her. "Okay baby. Let's go get you some coffee."

**

Tags:

@goldenempyrean @girlgenius1111 @codiemarin @ceesimz @marysfics @xxnaiaxx @liloandstitchstan

[wstviewvidal]

goodbye- w. maximoff

pairing: fwb!wanda x reader

summary: wanda tries to mend what was broken

a/n: here is the last installment of my first story, breakfast birthday goodbye! thank you all so much for the support you’ve shown the first two parts as well as the hc’s! it means the world to meeeeeee i love u guys soooo much!

minors do not interact

wanda never meant for everything to go down the way it did. scratch that, she never wanted any of this to happen. the ignored calls, the short texts, you avoiding her at your group’s weekly dinner.

she didn’t want that at all, and it was eating at her insides knowing that you are out there somewhere thinking that she wanted nothing to do with you, that she wasn’t serious about you.

it was the exact opposite, actually. you never leave her mind and she often finds herself texting you with random updates throughout her day just so she can end up calling you and hearing about whatever you have to say.

but now it’s been a week since the party and you’ve yet to actually have a full conversation with her. you don’t text her, only replying to her with a short and simple response when she sends you a message first.

she’s lost countless hours of sleep and finds it hard to make herself eat normal meals. the bags under her eyes have darkened and she’s become a hollow shell of herself, one she can’t even recognize in the mirror. everyone’s noticed it too, and it’s getting hard to ignore.

wanda prides herself on her incredible work ethic and her ability to do her job well beyond expectations, but for the past week even her team at work has noticed that she’s been off her a-game.

wanda hasn’t slept, and you could tell. she’s avoided every every attempt to rest or eat. only throwing herself into her work, which was futile because in the back of her mind was you. the ache of losing you and know you were out there hating her.

it’s gotten to the point where her boss has offered her to take the rest of the week off to recuperate over whatever happened that pushed her down. bad thing is, wanda said no and now she’s stuck thinking about you at her desk.

she turned down the offer, ignoring how badly her body is begging her to take the rest. work is the only thing keeping her mind off of you— or at least trying to.

she can’t get the look on your face out of her mind. the look at showed everything. the way your body looks exhausted, as if it had been fighting. worst of all, she saw every ounce of hurt in your eyes— it confirmed everything.

the look in your eyes, the hurt in your voice, the way you avoided her for the rest of the night at the party.

that’s how she knew you loved her back. and that was meant to be your final act of love— leaving her.

but wanda wouldn’t accept that.

wanda thinks of her future often. how she wants to open up her own firm, how she wants to have a decent sized house— no more than twenty minutes away from the city, the amount of kids she wants to have, you, you, you.

in every different imaginable scenario she’s imagined for herself, in every different future she’s envisioned, you’re always there. there’s no version of herself she can imagine without you.

which is why she’s suddenly found herself outside of your house in the middle of a thunderstorm at 8 at night.

she knew this was inappropriate and a setup for failure but she couldn’t go another hour not at least trying. she’s gone too many days with her anxiety eating away at her.

she knew that you loved her— hell, you basically confessed it to her the night you were drunk in her car. it’s been so long since then and she’s had to watch you date other people despite having confessed your true feelings.

so, logically, wanda had to force herself to ignore the confession and start to date other people as well.

but wanda knew they could never be you. no matter how hard she tried to make herself like the other girls, she always wished it was you she was holding at night— not them

as wanda stood outside your gate, she couldn’t help but recall when she went to go see you at work after you broke up with a fling.

and unfortunately for wanda, this was after you confessed. she had to sit there and console your crying eyes all while knowing the both of you had reciprocating feelings for the other.

wanda parked her car a few spots away from the main entrance and fixed her appearance before grabbing the takeout food she had brought for the two of you to share.

she sat in her car for a few minutes, trying to focus on her breathing and calming the nerves in her body. trying to rehearse things to say to say to you in front of her mirror, she looks over her appearance and fixes her makeup slightly.

i mean, what is she supposed to say to the girl she’s in love with who just broke up with someone she was dating? yay, now let’s get together? no. wanda had to be a supportive friend— no matter how badly she ached for more.

getting out of her car, she slowly walks up to the main entrance. as she walks in, she’s hit with the familiar smell of the air freshener the company uses and it gives her a small boost of confidence.

stopping to say hi to natasha before going into your office, she greets her.

“hey nat,” wanda says softly while peering into natasha’s office.

both wanda and natasha were familiar with each other through you and had no issue having conversations without your company, they were comfortable with each other.

natasha looks up from her work and up to wanda, a slight surprised smile on her face. she had a feeling wanda would show up for you, just unsure of when.

“hey,” she replies, “she’s in her office. she could really use the pick me up.”

wanda nods in understanding, “i know, she’s been down recently. brought her some food in case she needed it.”

natasha smirks softly and whispers lowly, “if you’re going to continue being a girlfriend to her, you need to make it official before somebody else does.”

wanda freezes. did natasha know about you two? surely you wouldn’t tell her anything, but why else would she say that?

wanda gives an awkward chuckle and walks off in the direction of your office, replaying natasha’s words and how she had a knowing look on her face as she said that.

slowly peering into your office, she knocks softly, “hey, pretty girl”

looking away from your desktop, you see wanda dressed in your college t-shirt and a pair of jeans while holding a takeout box from one of your favorite restaurants.

your heart swoons at the pet name, as well as the smile on her face. this isn’t the first time wanda’s shown up to your job unannounced. in fact, she does this at least a few times out of the month.

she insisted that it was her biggest priority to make sure you were taken care of.

she walks over to your desk and gives you a small kiss on the forehead and a rub on the back.

“you feeling okay?” wanda’s voice is laced with concern and love. it filled your stomach with butterflies.

truth is, you were actually feeling content after the break up. you constantly felt a weight on your chest while you were in that relationship. really, you could hardly call it a relationship. it lasted less than a month and you were happy it was over.

everytime you two went out, you always thought about how wanda would be acting if if was her you went out with instead. no matter what, you always had her in the back of your mind and you felt guilty for it.

shrugging softly, you lean into wanda’s side, enjoying how she’s giving you this soft attention. you really should be honest with her and tell her you’re fine but the fact that she’s being so sweet and attentive, it really makes you want to play into this facade just so she can continue being sweet to you. wanda tightened her hold on you and cooed softly.

wanda knew though. normally when you’re down and out of it, you hardly ever do your makeup. the way you speak is a bit more dragged out, the way you even look at her is different when you’re down.

wanda knew you were okay the second she got close to you, but how could she pass up an opportunity like this to hold you? she would take any excuse to touch you and make you feel happy. she knew she was in love with you, has known it for quite some time now. however, acting on it is a whole other story.

“i got you some food,” wanda runs her fingers through your hair softly, “i want to make sure you eat.”

wanda watches you as you nod softly and look up at her with a happy look on your face. yeah, she’s in love with you. no doubt about it.

you can’t help but immediately let out a soft giggle as you see how she looks at you. you two have known each other for years and she never fails to make you feel cared for.

what would it be like if you two stopped dancing around your feelings for each other?

wanda pulls out the food and you can’t help but swoon all over again. wanda knew your order, down to what you want put on the side instead of in the dish, even the sauces and other condiments. no one has ever known you like this.

the two of you ate for the next hour and a half. you asked her how work was going, her brother, what she’s doing for the holidays. the rest of the world ceased to exist for that hour and a half, and it didn’t feel like a lunch break. it felt like something you could get used to doing at home together.

the two of you existed in each others presence for that lunch break. maybe that was when you realized you truly were in love with her. or maybe it was an accumulation of things, but after that day you knew for a fact that wanda could be the one for you.

wanda walked slowly to your front door, her feet feeling heavy. she could hear her heartbeat, she could feel the blood moving around in her body. hell, she swears she can even feel her white blood cells. for the first time since she’s known you, she was terrified of speaking to you.

the rain soaked through her clothes and clung to her body. her usual soft brown hair was now black and matted with all of the rain water in it. she was freezing, but she didn’t care. each drop that fell onto her body only served as a reminder of all the things she’d never said to you.

every instinct in her was telling her to turn around and bolt, to run and not look back.

but the rational side of her told her that it was now or never. this was her last chance. if she ran, she’d never see you again.

she knew that the longer you two went without talking, the more likely it is that you’ll shut down and block out every memory with wanda from your mind. she knew that she needed to talk to you— and it had to be now.

before getting to your house, she stopped by a near by store to get you flowers. this wasn’t the first time she’d done so. in fact, the florist practically knew all about her love for you since it was all wanda could talk about when she went to go pick up your customized bouquet.

this time, however, it was terrifying knowing that there was a chance that this could be the last time she’d be giving you flowers. she knew you were stubborn and once you sat in your thoughts for too long, there was no way of getting you to turn back on it.

had wanda waited too long to speak to you? are you going to turn her away once she gets to your front door? is this going to be the last time she would see you again?

wanda stands in front of your door way, looking disheveled and drenched in rain. the roses she bought for you look worse for wear, but she couldn’t imagine coming to you empty handed. she needed to have something in her hand to help calm her nerves at least.

by the time she’d reached your door, she was shaking. but not out of cold, out of fear and desperation.

knocking on your door, wanda’s heartbeat quickens and for a split second she considers bolting and never coming back.

but the door opens.

and there you are, and somehow in the midst of all the chaos between you two, wanda thinks you look as beautiful as ever.

you look at wanda with an incredulous look, almost telling yourself you’re imagining her here at your doorstep.

you start, “wanda, i don’t think th-“

“no,” wanda says sharply, almost too firm and pushes past you and into your house. her breathing is shallow. it wasn’t from the rain though, it was from the years of unspoken truths, missed opportunities. she needed it out in the air.

wanda’s tone and demeanor momentarily stun you. she has always bent on anything you say and rarely interrupted you when you spoke.

after slowly closing the door behind her, you follow her further into your house. your heart is beating and you can’t help that worry she may get sick being drenched in all the rain.

wanda now is in the middle of your living pacing from one end of the room to the other, clutching drenched and withered red roses in her hands. she looks like she’s on the verge of passing out and you’re immediately worried that she very well could drop on your floor.

“wanda, i think you need to sit down.. let be get you a towel,” you say softly while waking towards her slowly, like she was a cat that could run off at any second.

“no,” she says quickly, now stopping and facing you, “you don’t get to kick me out or walk away this time. you can’t shut me out, not after everything. i know i hurt you— us, but i can’t just walk away without telling you everything.”

wanda rushes her words out, but not faltering once in her firm presence. her voice is laced with desperation and you can literally see her hands shaking.

you can hear a small waver in her voice, one youre not used to. wanda’s body language screams terrified and anxious, but her eyes scream with something much louder: resolve.

you can’t help try to hold back a smile at how you can see the emotion in her eyes. wanda’s eyes speak so much louder than her voice could ever, and you have always loved it so much. it’s how you two could communicate with one another from across the room.

you stand silent and nod, unsure of what to do.

“i understand how it looked. at the party, i mean. the girl there wasn’t anyone i knew, or even want to get to know for that matter. it was just a way to help me pass the time at the party, no matter how nasty that sounds,” wanda begins rambling and you can slowly see the confidence wear off. she pinches the bridge of her nose. this was already off to a bad start.

she had practiced this so many times over the past three hours and none of it was coming out how she wanted it to.

“she wasn’t you,” her voice breaks softly and her words make you freeze.

your heart beat quickens. what does she mean? maybe she’s just trying to make nice and keep the agreement going, it can’t mean that you think it means.

you try to interrupt her, “wanda-“

“i said let me ta-“

you raise your voice and look at her pointedly, “you are in my home and i will speak if i choose.”

wanda feels like a child being scolded.

with a soft and gentle voice, you apologize, “that night, my birthday. seeing you with that girl made me realize we’ve had this whole friends with benefits thing go on too long. it’s gotten in the way of our personal lives and for the sake of our future partners, we need to cut it off.”

you force it out, not sounding confident at all. although you had put much thought into it, it pained you to say it aloud to her. to watch her face drop, to actually see how your words affected her.

tears well in wanda’s eyes, spilling over with a soft, heartbroken cry. this wasn’t what she came here for. she didn’t come here so you could shut her down before even trying to tell you she loved you.

shaking her head and clearing her throat, wanda walks closer to you.

“you don’t get to cut this off without at least having a proper conversation with me,” wanda chokes out through sobs, wiping her tears angrily, “you can’t just throw me away like that.. please”

the silence between the two of you causes the atmosphere in the room to thicken.

hearing her pleading voice, the way she’s gripping onto your shoulders tightly as it’s the last time she’ll touch or see you again— you can’t help but try to fight tears.

in fact, it very well may be the last.

you shake your head, you had thought this over and realized that if wanda didn’t reciprocate the same feelings for you— it’s best if you let her go.

it had become a never ending cycle of stringing you along with no end in sight.

but if it meant nothing to wanda, why would she be here begging and crying for you?

haphazardly, you throw caution to the wind and decide that if this is the last night you’ll see wanda, you may as well lay it all on the table.

you pull away from wanda, raising your voice slightly, “do you have any idea what it took for me to finally accept that this, us, would be a never ending cycle? that it’s only a game of almost? i can’t keep waiting for you, for someone who’s just going to treat me like a place holder for another girl who won’t even last a month and a half?!”

you swallow tears and try your best to sound as firm as possible, “i sat around for all this time just watching you be with other people. giving them the affection i so badly wish you would reserve only for me.”

wanda’s eyebrows furrow at your insinuation that she only every treated you like a pit stop.

anger builds inside and she can’t help but scoff, “are you fucking kidding me? i treated you like a place holder? there’s no way you’re being serious right now.”

her scoff and rough voice cause you to turn back on your heel, defensiveness and frustration seeping through your veins.

“yeah, a goddamn pit stop, wanda. you came around, got me fucking wrapped around your finger and made me fa-,” you almost said it, “you had me wrapped around your finger. i was always there when you called, like a damn fool!”

wanda couldn’t believe what she was hearing. you were acting like she was some kind of person who viewed you as a fool. she was helplessly in love with you, and this is what you saw her as.

running a hand through her hair in hopes of helping herself calm down, she exclaims, “do you really think this was one sided?! i had to watch you date other people too! i wasn’t the only one who dated! after that time you got drunk and i had to take care of you, i couldn’t stop thinking about you saying you wished we could be more! and then i had to carry on with my life like you hadn’t told me you wanted something more with me.”

wanda swallows hard before the words spill out—the night you told her you wanted more. she never wanted to tell you about that night, for fear of running you off.

it was now or never, she had to tell you.

you freeze, what night is she talking about? the weight of her words finally hit you, and it feels like the world has shifted. you search her face, like the answer you’re searching for is written on her forehead.

wanda sighs and rubs her face, “i’m sorry. you got drunk a while back and told me you wanted more. i never told you because i knew it would send you running off, and i couldn’t bare the thought of losing you. it was better to have you like this, no matter how much it hurt, than to not have you at all.”

the rain seemed to be the only sound in the house. the soft thuds of the branches outside hitting the side of the roof are all you two can hear. you stare at each other, for the first time with uncertainty as to what’s next for you two.

wanda walks slowly closer, stopping a few feet in front of you, “do you really think i wanted this to be one sided? i thought that by holding back and keeping my feelings to myself, it was the only way i’d still be able to have you in my life.”

you stare at her as you slowly understand what she’s trying to say. she loved you back.

“i never wanted you to feel that way,” barely above a whisper, “and i’m so sorry that i made you feel that way. it was never my intention to make you feel like you were anything other than my first priority. i only every wanted you, only you. i found myself looking for you in every person i met because i was afraid that if i told you i loved you, you’d run away. if having you meant keeping my feelings to myself, i would make that sacrifice because i couldn’t fathom the thought of you. no longer being in my life.”

you stay silent, her words echoing in your head. wanda loved you back? you can see her hands shaking and the insecurity in her eyes. her hands are shaking and the petals on the roses are falling off slowly with the weight of the water droplets on them.

following your eyes, wanda remembers she got you roses.

she speaks softly, almost afraid to speak to you, “i brought you these. i’m sorry they’re not that pretty, they got kind of messed up with the rain and me squeezing them so tight.”

wanda speaks nervously, shyly and you can’t help but frown at her demeanor. she’s no longer the confident person you know. right now she looks like an insecure woman who’s been rejected by someone she’s been in love with for years.

you gently reach out for the flowers, still shocked by the revelation wanda’s revealed to you in the matter of fifteen minutes.

you hardly register that she’s leaving your home with a new weight on her chest and an empty feeling in her heart.

wanda took your silence as the final answer she’d been dreading. rejection. wanda thinks you don’t love her back. the silence in the room weighed on her like a death sentence and she was forced to walk away— heartbroken and alone.

the sound of her car door being shut pulls you out of your stupor and you realize what this means— what wanda’s departure means.

this can’t be the end.

with adrenaline coursing through you, you throw the door open. you rush out of your house and just before she leaves your drive way, you call out for her.

wanda, as if hoping you’d chase her, drives her car back into your drive way and parks. wanda looks anywhere but you, as if afraid the next thing you’ll tell her is to never come back. her hands grip at her steering wheel tight enough to the point her knuckles turned white. she’s terrified.

stepping outside of her car, she walks up to you. her hands are shaking and you can see that her eyes are red rimmed from all the crying she’s done tonight.

your voice is hoarse from the yelling and crying as well, “i’m sorry. i’m sorry it took this long to tell you and im sorry for accusing you of treating me like nothing. wanda, i love you too— i always have. i was terrified of you not feeling the same way so i forced myself to ignore it. i was wrong, i was wrong about everything.”

wanda’s breath stops and her eyes well up with tears again, “please don’t lie to me just for the sake of my emotions.”

you shake your head insistently, “i’m being honest, i swear on everything i love. i love you, i have for a while. i was just scared and i didn’t know you felt the same way.”

“you love me?” wanda’s voice is shaking and she can’t tell if she’s dreaming or already getting sick from standing in the rain for too long.

nodding with a nervous smile, you don’t care about the rain soaking your clothes or the lighting in the sky. all that matters is that you tell wanda how you feel. before time runs out and you lose her for good.

wanda inhales sharply, a look of relief washing over and she lets out a soft laugh. a trembling hand cautiously reaches for your face as her eyes flooded with relief.

“i was scared,” she says through a wet laugh, “i thought that you would run if i told you i was in love with you.. but if you’ll let me, i swear i won’t ever make you feel like a second priority again. you’ve always been the most important thing in my life and i never want you to feel like anything else.”

her words hit you like a rush of warmth, contrasting against the cold rain surrounding you two. you smile widely, your heart overjoyed with the fact that wanda did love you as you did her.

you laugh— a genuine laugh, and before she can get another word out, you pull her into you. you couldn’t waste another second before connecting your lips.

when you two meet, it’s like everything clicked. all the chaos, all the flings, every person annoying you two about getting together, it meant nothing now that you two expressed what you’d been hiding.

you rest your forehead against wanda’s and whisper softly, “we’ve got a lot to figure out now, but this means we’ll do it together.”

wanda nods with a small smile as she looks at you, “yeah, together.”

as you two stand there, both laughing at the dramatics of it all, you can’t help but let out a sigh of relief, one you’ve held for years. wanda was finally yours and you knew then and there that all of the missed opportunities and lack of truths only led you to her.

ignoring the messiness and the lack of perfection, it was real.

[evolnoomym]

Washing Machine Heart 🩶 Pt.1

Mom’s Best-friend!Joel Miller x f!reader

Main Masterlist | Joel Miller Masterlist

Summary: Your Mom is not nice to you, her only Daughter, always picking on you whenever she can. To get back at her you decide to seduce and fuck her Highschool Best-friend Joel Miller. Oh she also has a crush on him so that’s a bonus.

Rating: 18+ mature content mdni!!!!

Word count: 3.5k

Warnings: no use of y/n, female reader, implied abuse, childhood trauma, alcohol, smut, reader has no name only nicknames, size difference, age gap, readers age is mentioned and Joel is more than double sooo, mommy issues, strained relationships, petty shit, cream pie, tittys, choking kind of, teasing, Joel is tiny bit Pervy, of course Daddy kink, unprotected p in v,

If I missed anything please let me know 🙏🏻

Authors note: I was mad so this is what I cooked up lol

Shoutout to @cafekitsune for the dividers 🫶🏻

Disclaimer: English is not my first language so if you come across mistakes it might be due to that. This is my first time writing smut sooooo be nice please. I’m totally here for constructive criticism or feedback on how to improve. In general I appreciate comments, likes and reblogs greatly. 🖤

Song’s I listened to while writing:

I Hate My Mom by GRLwood

Class of 2013 by Mitski

I hope ur miserable until ur dead by Nessa Barrett

Bubblegum Bitch by MARINA

Backstabber by Kesha

Jerk by Oliver Tree

You know exactly when the relationship between you and your mother started deteriorating- The day she decided to choose your loser Stepdad, the one she only dated for 4 years, over her own 8 year old daughter. From then on you took a backseat in her life yet she still expected you to take care of her all needs. You hate her for what she did and you miss her like a little kid. You had to drag her home when she drank too much, you can’t even remember how often that happened. Always having to jump in between that asshole and her fighting cuz even though she practically emotionally abandoned you, you still wanted to protect her from harm's way. She forced you to grow up so quickly, it’s her fault you never got a real childhood.

For years you accepted that this is normal. The screaming, the violence and the degrading words became a part of growing up. You were a kid but not clueless, someone who loves you wouldn’t have done all of this. And yet all of them tried so hard to make you shut up and believe it’s what you deserved.

Luckily what happened did not entirely break you. No, you grew into someone who fought for herself since no one ever did that.

Of course you hoped she might realize her mistakes, apologize and change but nothings new with her. She’s great at pretending to be a better person to the outside world, than she is in reality, behind closed doors the mask unveils an ugly woman. A narcissistic self absorbed monster that took all your joy away.

It’s pathetic considering how much she always talks about getting abused by her own father but instead of breaking the cycle she doubled down on it. Going as far as using that as an excuse for what she did to her own child.

She only kinda stopped the abuse once you no longer were a small child. Now that you could fight back she did not corner you anymore.

But just because she couldn’t hit you anymore doesn’t mean the picking on you stopped, no, it was her mission to rid you of the last remaining confidence and self love.

In each screaming match she tried so hard to gaslight you into believing you were crazy for feeling offended by her disgusting behavior.

One time you asked why she hit you as a little kid and the answer left you completely blown away. She expressed that you cried so much, and did it to provoke her. What else could she have possibly done other than raise her hand?

Or another time she refused to acknowledge that she hit you at all but a second later told you that perhaps if she would’ve done worse you would’ve turned out better.

At some point you stopped calling her Mom and only went with her name. You knew that it must hurt but did she really deserve that title after everything she did?

Now at 21 years old the relationship is just as rocky, not much has changed.

Your mom has basically zero friends, she’s a bitch of course no one would want to be too close, well except for Joel…..Joel Miller that somehow was her friend.

Perhaps only since they have known each other since High School, he might have felt some kind of obligation towards her due to that. She told you once that Joel was the boy every girl had a crush on with his whole guitar playing thing they all swooned over him.

Even now all those years later Joel was a beautiful specimen, tall, broad shoulders, huge hands, strong arms you’d like to be enveloped by, tanned freckled skin, a cute butt, gorgeous brown curls with slightly gray streaks showing his age, big brown eyes, a prominent nose and soft pillow like lips.

You understand why your Mom had a crush on him, any woman would bend over for him if he’d say so. She thought it was not too noticeable but unlike Joel you caught it immediately.

She made you the reason for her life being so shitty but now after years of torment you saw a chance at really giving her a reason to hate you. Maybe something is wrong with you for liking the idea of breaking her heart so much but you honestly couldn’t care less. The one you felt sorry for most was probably Joel; he would be the pawn in your deranged game without knowing.

As it turns out though Joel is not as innocent as expected, the more you tried to get closer the more you realized he might be easier to seduce than originally anticipated.

You started with small things like hugging him a bit longer than normally so he could feel you perky full tits squished against his chest. Touching his arms and squeezing them but not too much as if to draw attention to it. And from his reactions, he did not seem to mind.

You were not worried about your mother, she never was the most alert to begin with.

When Joel came over for a barbecue you used the time alone with him in the garden while your mother was in the kitchen preparing god knows what to impress him.

Joel and you had some interesting conversations.

“Soooo you work in contracting, right?” You asked him sweetly. Joel chuckled “Yeah sweetheart, I do. But ya know tha’ already, so why ask?” You played it off as much as you could “Just making sure you didn't decide to switch career paths in the time I haven’t seen you…” you look up at him through your lashes, cheekily biting your lip. Joel of course fell into the trap, his eyes going down to your plush lips in mere seconds. Got ya you dirty old men.

You stepped closer until you two were only a couple inches apart. His chest almost touched yours. In this position you really had to Crane your neck up to keep eye contact consistent.

“What are ya doing Baby,huh?” Joel tilted his head slightly down towards your face. You just giggled at him “Nothin Joel, just…” with that you put your hands on his wide chest ruining them down over his enticing slightly protruding belly. “I know you stare at my ass alllllll the time. I also know you like it when I walk close by you and graze you with my tits. My little skimpy outfits turn you on as well don’t they,huh Joel?” You smirk at him.

You can see how he clenches his jaw…ohhh yes you got him figured out.

He hisses low and menacing at you “You are a little slut ain’t ya, baby. Groping a man over double your age. Teasin me with those sugar tits and that tight lil ass….”

You can see his pupils dilate till his eyes look close to being completely blacked out. You muse “Yeah I’m a whore but you like that don’t you?” With that you cup his hard cock over his shorts he decided to wear today.

He gasps and immediately grips your wrist to yank those devilish hands away from his throbbing length. Especially when he hears your mother’s voice calling out from inside the house.

He backs off and tries to catch his breath as well as calm his raging hard on down to an unnoticeable minimum. Before he leaves to figure out what she called for he turns to you and lifts an accusing finger towards you.

“We ain’t done baby, ya gonna make it up to me for teasin and leavin me all high and dry, mkay?” He tilts his head almost to intimidate you but to no avail you’re just a massive brat “Hmmm sure Joeliii but i think your underwear is anything but dry.” You giggle and continue “Probably full of pre cum am I right,huh?”

Joel can’t believe what he’s gotten himself into and just shakes his head while turning to the house.

Somehow he made it through the barbecue without your mother noticing any tension between Joel and you. Stupid of her but good for you.

In the weeks after that afternoon you and him kept secretly meeting up. Most of the time at his house or he’d pick you up with his truck to drive you somewhere where he could have you without any distractions, of course when your mom wasn’t home. She might be stupid but even to her it would be weird why you suddenly start taking trips with Joel and she should not be suspicious.

Also during the talks with Joel that happened when taking a break between fucking it was once again made clear that he for whatever reason had not an ounce of knowledge about your mom’s crush.

The plan for how the reveal should go was set in motion. Your mom was driving out to one of those weird grocery stores that sold the health powders she drowned herself in, in hopes of making her more pretty from the inside out but to no avail the rot can’t be reversed.

You knew how long that would take her, it gave you enough time to fuck Joel in her favorite spot on the couch. Yeah petty and perhaps childish but you don’t care make her remember how you defiled her lovely couch with the man she was in love with.

Joel showed up 10 minutes after she drove off. You barely got the door closed behind him before he pounced on you. It’s been a few weeks since you fucked him last, you wanted him to be desperate for it so he’ll might be more focused on pounding you then notice that your mother is returning.

He immediately slotted his lips over yours, his hands grabbing at your hips with urgency.

You spin with him attached to your lips so you can guide him where you want him, on the couch. His breathing is already elevated and by the significantly evident bulge he’s massively turned on. Good, the less rational thinking the better.

While you push him towards the couch his lips slip down your jaw and land on your throat kissing and sucking all over. Between those kisses he huffs “Babyyy - I’ve - missed - ya so - much…” you just hum as an answer and when the back of his knees hit the edge of the couch he’s forced to unlatch from you.

He falls back, his head hitting the soft pillows so he’s only slightly elevated. You wink at him “yeah I bet you have and most of all He has missed me huh? Looks almost painful, did you not touch yourself in meantime?”

He sounds a bit whiny in his response “No Baby haven’t touched myself, saved it all for ya greedy little pussy.” Even when you think to have the upper hand he reminds you how different it actually is. “Come on baby, why don’t ya take of that lil skirt an’ take seat on my lap.” While grabbing at his crotch.

Your mouth is watering but there’s no time today to get your mouth on him like you usually love to. At his dirty words you can feel some wetness gush from your pulsing cunt, coating the inside of your thighs. As requested you slip your flowy skirt down your legs.

Joel let's out a gasp „No panties baby? Ya naughty little slut.“ he chuckles and you retort „Don’t need them if I’m with you, so why make it harder than it needs to be?“ at that Joel can only nod.

„Come here Sweet Moon Love.“ he demands.

You get on your hands and knees between his spread legs that lay on the couch. Slowly crawling towards him teasing him with your tits that are almost spilling out of your skimpy tank top.

When you finally sit down on his jeans-covered cock he lets out a sound of relief. Your knees on either side of his hips and his hands immediately find home on your hips and ass, kneading and caressing the skin there.

„Fuck Moon ya turn me on so much take of that goddamn top and show me those sweet sugar tits.“

So you do, slipping it over your head and throwing it somewhere behind you. He’s not surprised by the lack of a bra. He knows you hate wearing them and if he’s honest he loves that a lot, easier access and all.

Joel’s hands go from your hips up to the tits he loves so much. Carefully touching them, his warm hands and the wonderful feeling making it unable not to moan. Swiping his calloused fingers over your nipples, twisting them with determination causing you to keen.

You start arching your back towards his groping hands. His administrations cause the pull in your lower stomach to Continuously get stronger. You are convinced his jeans are covered in your juices and without realizing you’ve started to rub your bare pussy over his bulge with vigor.

„Joel enough I need you inside me, now!“ You don’t even wait for a response, lifting your hips and loosening his belt and unbuttoning the buttons of his jeans. With his help you drag his pants down but only so much that you are able to pull his throbbing cock out of the confines that are his blue boxers and you can see a huge dark spot where pre cum leaked, making you look at Joel chuckling „You really want it huh? Daddy” with a sweet lilt that makes his dick Twitch in your hands.

He just groans “Baby Moon if ya don’t sit down on my cock right now I’ll do it myself and I won’t give ya time to adjust.” He threatens but it really only turns you on more.

You peer up at the clock and see that you only have about 15 minutes left.

You take your original position and when his warm length slips through your moist folds his pre cum mixing with your own juices to create an addicting squelching sound.

At this point the dark hair nestling at the base of his cock and his happy trail are completely soaked.

“Gosh, Sweetheart she’s gushing all over me, put it in. She wants my cock don’t keep her waitin” you love when he talks in this way about your cunt, makes you wetter if that’s even possible.

You lift up a bit again and take hold of his length with one hand, the other on his chest to stabilize yourself. Dragging his leaking head through your glossy folds before lining him up with your gushing opening. You take one deep inhale cuz you know it’ll be a stretch even with how often you've done this.

Before sinking down on him you look at him there’s guilt somewhere deep in your conscience but you shake your head, you ain’t backing out now.

You slowly start to sink down when Joel decides it’s not quick enough so he grips your hips and in one swift fast motion sheets his huge dick inside your tight cunt.

“Ahhh..-ah J-Joel what the fuck” you hiss slapping his chest hard for being so impatient.

He huffs “Sorry Baby but Daddy has waited long enough for Her, just shush.” He actually has the audacity to shush you.

You get used to the feeling of being so filled to the brim and slide back & forth for a moment.

Then you put your feet down flat on the couch and grip the headrest behind him before starting to fuck him in earnest. Up and down at first slowly but steadily you get quicker and harder. Joel can’t even speak unless you count his obnoxiously loud moaning and growling.

“Yeah how you like that old man, hmm Daddy you're all quiet this pussy shut you up good, huh?” You wonder and out of nowhere one of Joel’s big hands grips your throat making you slow your movements to a minimum. He pulls your face toward his and grunts “Baby Moon ya need to be put in your place, ya bratty ass is treading on some mighty thin ice.”

He gives you one hard peck and then shoves your face in his neck. You don’t complain, you love when he’s so rough with you and his musky masculine smell is your favorite.

Joel pulls his legs up and plants his feet on the couch just like you did and then he starts to relentlessly push up into you at an alarming speed so hard that if it weren’t for the arm pinning you to his chest you’d fall off.

“Jo-Joel….Joel it’s so good ah…don’t stop” you babble in his ear and opposite to his harsh pounding he soothes “Shhh Baby I know, I know it’s so much for ya and Her. But listen to how much she’s enjoying it.”

And he’s right besides the obscene “plap, plap, plap” of skin hitting skin you can hear the wet squelching from the place you're both connected. “I’m close baby, where?” He asks while slipping a hand between your bodies to touch your neglected clit and immediately your whiny moans get even louder “I-in…inside Daddy. Pleaseee cum inside me.”

You beg and he loves that “Hmm yeah, ya wanna be filled up Baby?” He questions “God yes Daddy fill me up, please pleasee” you want nothing more than to feel him spill inside of you.

Seems that when Joel told you he was kinda deaf in his right ear it wasn’t a lie or maybe the plan of making him so desperate to fuck you that he won’t hear the door unlocking worked out.

But you can hear the slight clicking and the closing of the door. Unlike what you expect she does not start screaming, no, she’s eerily quiet. Perhaps it’s due to not having realized who exactly you're screwing as if there’s no tomorrow or simple shock.

Joel under you seems to have reached his end and without any preamble he starts shooting his warm cum deep inside your tight hole. The warm sensation combined with his unrelenting rubbing your clit pushes you over the finish line too. With that you pull up from his neck and drag him up as well, crossing your arms around his neck and kissing him.

You know she is right there at the threshold, you don’t care and to rub it in even more you say “Thank you Daddy, I love you.” And as if he knows his role Joel answers “I love you too little Moon.”

And that might have been the final straw, she speaks up and it flips out into incoherent screaming. Joel is immediately startled; he lightly pushes you off, quickly tugging himself back into his jeans and getting up to explain. You however get up slowly and put your top and skirt back on.

With the lack of panties you can feel his spend leaking out of you and you’re sure there’s very evident stains on Joel’s jeans that your mother must see.

The back and forth they must be having doesn’t even register to you. The blissful buzzing from the orgasm and the satisfaction of having succeeded in hurting her are making you all dozzy.

But then she comes charging at you screaming in your face “You’re smiling, you think this is funny??? I knew you were a bitch who only ruins everything, you are a worthless piece of shit a absolute waste of space” she’s so hysterical but you don’t care, it’s good she’s showing her true colors for Joel to see.

She continues “You are disgraceful and shameful for the entire family. I want you out of the house now. You are dead to me.” She probably thinks those words could hurt but it’s nothing compared to all the horrible things she did in the past. You just smirk at her nodding which infuriates her more than any comeback could.

With that you slip past her, Joel looks completely stunned by what just unfolded before his eyes. You don’t acknowledge him much, quickly skipping up the stairs,entering your room, grabbing a suitcase and filling it with the most important items. Then shuffling out of your room locking it behind you. You heave the suitcase down the stairs, no sign of Joel all you can hear is her crying in the living room, it amuses you, not an ounce of sympathy left for her. You don’t bother saying bye just open the front door and out you are.

The surprise is waiting in front of the house, Joel, he didn’t leave but instead waited for you.

He looks at you “Did it mean anything to you at all, or was it just a big joke?” He doesn’t look hurt, just confused. You close the distance between him and you “I wish it wouldn’t but it’s not possible to not feel anything, look at you Joel you’re a so beautiful so caring of course I fell for you.” He nods and takes your suitcase out of your hand. “Wh..what are you doing ?” You question “I’m taking ya home Moon, think I’d let you run around these streets? Get in the car” he urges.

And you do, when he drives off you don’t look back once.

Npt: @joelmillerisapunk @aurorawritestoescape @milla-frenchy @joelslegalwhre @thundermartini @studioghibelli @sizzlingcloudmentality @vivian-pascal @strang3lov3 @xdaddysprincessxx @mountainsandmayhem @mrsmando @joelsgreys @janaispunk @sizzlingcloudmentality @the-mandawhor1an @clawdee @penvisions 🩶

Please don’t repost, copy, translate, or feed into any AI, thank you 🙏🏻

[tillsfan]

“hate is easier than a word as vague as love” cards analysis

seeing sua's card, i immediately got the impression of her putting up a facade. her keeping her mouth SHUT, and holding her throat. i feel this represents sua’s dishonesty towards mizi, her deliberately hiding the truth of alien stage, yet slowly losing her composure because she knows she can't hide the truth forever. she knew her death was coming, yet she continued to force stability.

i also view her covering her neck as her actively hiding the reality, since her neck was where she got shot. she actively hid the truth of death until the end, with her forced expression and hiding the crack. she's also sweating, showing guilt towards her own actions. but sua's selfish. so she continued with her facade to make mizi happy. her extensive blush compared to the others, her lack of tears, the severity of her cracks.. does this make sense. this whole card symbolizes both her dishonesty and her selfish nature

mizi's card is interesting. first of all, her crack is where sua's blood splattered on her. as sua died, she was still smiling, like it took her a second to process what was going on. you can tell she's suffering, she's literally holding herself together, yet she puts on a smile. i feel her card shows that she is processing things later than others, possibly continuing to avoid the reality of sua's death, because ignorance is all she knows. it's as if she's trying to remain positive, to remain that false light of hope, instead of grieving like a normal person. maybe not outwardly, because we know mizi was pretty closed off after sua’s death—but maybe she’s trying to convince herself. convince herself that she can save everyone, giving herself that false hope. sua's deciet did stunt mizi's growth after all.

mizi’s color scheme here is pink, and while it could be said that it’s just because it’s her signature color, i feel it’s something deeper. it can symbolize the “rose-tinted glasses” she had on, as her perception of anakt and alien stage was an idealized/perfected version. we know she never knew the reality of alien stage before it was forced to hit her like a truck. though, her eyes and tears are a very noticeable blue, which i perceive as the reality and grief finally seeping through her perfect world.

i am posting an individual mizisua analysis soon. i want to delve deeper into them outside of just these cards.. so sorry that theirs is quite short

ivan's card is a great contrast to mizi's and sua's. ivan is very visually suffering, he's in severe distress. ivan's card represents his overflowing of inner emotions, as he kept them in all his life. he hid them, let them bubble up inside until they boiled over. we know ivan has learned to keep up a facade, hiding his true childish, selfish and intense nature. he kept his intense emotions for till hidden all his life, and when he was finally about to die, he went all out. his final actions were almost like he was venting, letting everything pour out at once because he never made them prevalent. he let out his affection and hatred he's held for till all his life in the span of a few seconds.

his color scheme is also pure red. colors in alien stage hold great meaning, and red is often associated with intensity and rebellion. the colors here can represent both his intense overwhelming emotions, and his hidden resentment towards till. you can also piece that together with his expression, he seems very clearly frustrated. all in all, ivan's card represents many things. how he hid his emotions until they became overwhelming, and his overall conflicting feelings towards till.

ivan's crack is also across his face, furthering the idea of him holding up a false persona. the hearts are pooling out from both ends, representing the burdening amount of emotion he's had to keep inside. he felt his emotions were different, shallow, therefore he chose to hold them in until it killed him. he's also actively holding himself together, showing the struggle he felt hiding himself.

the first most noticeable thing is the crack placement. his crack is where ivan has always touched him, ivan had a habit of caressing till's cheek, which was the most gentle gesture he ever gave. till is very clearly mourning ivan here, and was well aware of ivan's presence throughout his life. ivan was his stability, in a way. now that ivan isn't there to hold him, he's falling apart. it almost feels like a missed opportunity on till's end, his feelings finally being recognized only after ivan left him.

till's expression is very conflicting, his eyes being unevenly opened and his mouth tilting in difierent ways. this can represent how lost he feels without ivan. this could also represent how he doesn't know how to feel at ALL, seeing as how he had such a small amount of time to even grieve ivan's death, and how he never properly confronted his feelings towards ivan. he has shielded himself from the reality of ivan all his life. this can also be seen with how his hands are LITERALLY shielding his head. till's coping mechanism is avoidance, he deeply fears intimacy, so he chased after someone he knew he could never obtain (mizi). he avoided ever confronting how he truly felt about ivan, because if he did, he knew he had the chance of losing someone close to him again. but avoiding ivan's reality didn't change the fact they were really close. till cares. till cared so much that it led to his demise.

till's color scheme is blue, visualizing the deep sorrow engulfing till. throughout round 7, till was heavily distressed and upset, his feelings overpowering his ability to properly perform, leading to his loss. till does not know how to confront sadness, seeing as how he let it submerge him in round 6 as well. he's very mentally weak DUE to his avoidance + fear of vulnerability in both relationships and his own emotions. he never allowed himself to properly get close to anyone, he couldn't develop the mental strength needed to survive.

[morinuu]

Hello!!!!

I’m so happy to see your requests are open I absolutely love your writing!!

Kyoya x fem reader where they have an arranged marriage because it will help both there parents companies, and Kyoya and reader start to actually have feelings for one another, even though they weren’t sure about marrying the other at first?? Just thought it would be super cute!!

Hope your day/night is going well!!

hiii im so glad u like my work! :3 added a wee bit of angst turnt fluff cus why not. its not exactly what u asked for but i hope u like it anyway!

❄｜kyouya x reader where you're both forced to marry under your families' order. 1.7k words. this doesn't follow the canon for the events after the ouran graduation.

the noiret paced around his room in uneasiness. he knew one day his freedom would be cut short, he'd been waiting for that day, but he also had learnt to have the slightest, stupidest hope that his father's newfound respect for him had changed things.

he wonders, however, how he of all people could have been so naïve.

outside, the fairies of the winter had been drawing pretty little drawings of ice on the edges of his windows, as if to try and distract his racing mind from the events that would unfold the second he got out of his room. he was used to the noise of social events, the people chatter and the pressure of socialising, so this should be nothing for him, right?

right.

he didn't understand this feeling. it wasn't that he necessarily hated an arrangement for marriage, life would go on whether or not it would happen.

looking at the fairies' drawings of comfort one last time, he took a deep breath and exited his room to leave for the wedding venue without a word.

the car ride was uncomfortable. his family had already arrived so they weren't there to talk his ear off and the bride would come some time after than he did as the tradition goes. he had time left to think and contemplate again and again.

he looked down at his tuxedo. the bride requested that if she wasn't able to marry of her own free will, that she at least get to have her dream wedding. not a bad deal, kyouya thought. their outfits had been in matching colours, and both were over-the-top decorated. he felt slightly embarrassed at the outfit, but it wasn't anything too extreme in comparison to what he wore in highschool. the only concern was that his whole family and many important people would be there, though he swallowed that as well, as he'd been doing the entire year of the wedding preparation.

he'd met his fiancée plenty of times in that year. the first time they met was at his university graduation. she was smiling brightly standing next to his sister who rushed to hug him and congratulate him. he remembers her bowing politely and introducing herself, before his father stepped in to explain the situation. he remembers the slight surprise on her face at the lack of comments about his sons' achievements.

the next time they met was at a museum. his sister had advised him to ask her on a date so they could get to know each other. she was intelligent, charismatic, and he couldn't deny her face was pleasant to look at. her interest in history was a plus - at least she had an interesting characteristic.

their second date was a dinner at a restaurant, only the best to serve the ootoris. she'd picked steak and juice - quickly explaining she doesn't drink at the slight raise of his eyebrow. he nodded and changed his own wine order to juice as well. 'you don't have to do that!' she rushed but he assured her he's just being considerate of his fiancée. he never forgot how to be a gentleman.

the fifth date she asked to meet at a commoners' shopping mall to show him around. kyouya wasn't surprised by this. he'd learnt early on from his investigation on potential wife that she'd been adopted into the l/n family due to some sort of an affair. despite it being well-known, the gossip around the situation wasn't very clear, so he decided to wait until she talked about it instead.

at some point down the road, the two had become something akin to friends, and although not very close, y/n claimed she was satisfied with the bond they'd created regardless of its strength.

nine months later, he now is at the altar, bouquet in hand, a performative smile for all the guests to admire - until a beautiful woman comes through with her arm linked to her father's.

the ceremony didn't last long, the after-party however? most guests had already left but the couples' friends continued to act like it was the last day of their lives. the bridesmaids' laughter and his friends' drunk dance moves tired kyouya, but he was having fun, so what's another night sleepless?

a tap in his shoulder by his wife.

"you okay? you seem tired. we can call it a night." she exclaimed into his ear through the music. he'd read enough women's blogs to understand what that meant.

even if he wasn't tired, she was, and that was a roundabout way of telling him. what sort of husband disobeys his wife?

the second they got to their new house, y/n rushed to the bed and flopped on it like a sack. she had no energy to get changed or move, instead asking kyouya 'if they could complete their duties the next day, nobody was rushing them anyway'. kyouya he helped her out of her dress and comatosed with her in peace.

the next morning, nobody bothered to wake the couple. soon they'd leave for their honeymoon anyway. everything happened way too quickly and kyouya didn't know how to handle it. the weeks passed, and he refused to communicate any issues to his wife that weren't work or family related. he felt conflicted, but he didn't know about what. the woman lying next to him was kind, beautiful, clever. what right did he have to complain?

i mean, what did it matter if he didn't feel any connection in bed? why would it matter if she had a disappointed look on her face whenever he had to cut their time short? would it make any difference if he had an heir later and ignored his parents' whines about it? it was a tough thing to do, but each time he failed to satisfy his wife, it felt like a stab in the chest wounding his male ego. so did it really matter that he was away for long periods of time? it was a marriage of convenience, after all, and she wasn't missing out on anything.

she claimed that whatever friendship they had felt like it was dissolving because he 'didn't make an effort'? him? when he's the one working hard to make sure his dad's company doesn't make the wrong decisions? what does she know when she sits at home all day getting princess treatment despite being illegitimate?

"you chose this, kyouya." what?

"you refuse to leave your father's shadow." that's not it.

"maybe if you stood up for yourself, half the issues you're complaining about would be gone!" you're wrong.

he doesn't have free will, he never did. since he was a kid his life had been dictated by those around him, and surely you under-

"you're nearing thirty, kyoya! i'm tired of your self-pity! do something! i'm sick of this!"

it felt like yesterday when he saw his wife in her wedding dress for the first time. back then, he didn't really understand the concept of forever.

yet it had already been seven years.

seven years of obedience. seven years of keeping his head down. seven years of neglecting his wife to dedicate his time to his work. seven years for him to realise he was serving the ootoris. he was never on an equal level.

the issue wasn't his father, it was him. and on his twenty-ninth birthday, a snowy day just like his wedding day, with the winter fairies for comfort, he announced to his old man his retirement from the company.

"i'm sorry, y/n. i'm sorry for everything. let's try again."

you took his hand and embraced him. you knew your husband was broken somewhere inside him. you'd known for years. you'd seen how his family treated him, how they took him for granted. but no matter what you did, how much you pressured him, he only let you see specific parts of himself, and you couldn't help but blame yourself.

you refused to leave his side, no matter how exhausting your marriage felt. you rarely went on dates anymore, he never made the move to touch you, it wasn't marriage, it felt like... a business transaction.

deep down, you knew that that's what it was. you'd considered divorce plenty of times but at the end of the day, even if not your lover, kyouya was your friend. the man whom you ate breakfast with and lied on the same bed with. the man you'd seen you at your worst and gave you strength, and you knew you had to support even if he refused to let go of what was familiar to him. even if he refused his own happiness.

the sobbing man in your arms reminded you of a younger version of him. years ago, on your third anniversary when he'd planned a trip to chongqing because he remembered you saying you always wanted to go. during your two week stay, he got wine tipsy at dinner and eventually drunk by nighttime, spilling feelings he'd kept to himself for years.

he'd kneeled in front of you, furiously crying in your lap as he held your legs tightly, begging you not to leave because he could feel himself changing and neglecting his personal life.

you'd carried him to bed and admired his face as he fell asleep, naïvely thinking that this was just a rough patch and he'd go back to putting effort in just like he did in chongqing.

but the years passed and he proved to you his fears were legitimate.

"sure, let's try again kyouya." you patted his back when he held you in even tighter. "but this time we're trying counselling, okay?" you giggled, trying to light up the mood.

he pulled back and gave a tiny smile when you wiped his cheek.

"whatever my wife says." he caressed your hair. "let's stay married, okay? i don't want to lose you."

he didn't say the three words, but that was okay. it didn't matter much. romance could wait, because you knew you loved him more than a woman in a cheesy romcom would. you loved his soul, and you wanted nothing more than to see him bloom.

"let's stay married, kyouya. happy birthday."

it was a new beginning for the both of you and you had nothing but time on the horizon.

[maskedbyghost]

Shadows of Obsession (part 4)

part 1 tw: obsessive behavior, mentions of killing, harm, and potential danger to the character

The house was too perfect. Books she’d mentioned in passing lined the shelves. A cardigan she’d lost months ago was draped over a chair. Every detail screamed of his attention, and it unsettled her more than the silence.

One evening, she found him by the window, staring out into the dark forest that stretched for miles. His mask was off, but his shoulders were tense.

“You think this fixes anything?” she asked, her voice cutting through the silence.

Simon didn’t turn around. “It’s not about fixing things.”

“Then what is it about?” she snapped, stepping closer. “Control? Punishment? What do you want, Simon?”

Finally, he turned, his eyes scanning her face like he was memorizing every detail. “I want you alive.”

Her breath hitched at the rawness in his voice, but she forced herself to meet his gaze. “Alive isn’t the same as living. You know that, right?”

He took a slow step toward her, his movements slow. “You don’t get it. If you knew how close they were—how close I was to losing you—you wouldn’t be standing here arguing with me.”

She laughed bitterly, shaking her head. “You’re right. I don’t get it. Because normal people don’t stalk their coworkers and kidnap them for their own safety.”

Simon flinched, and for a moment, she thought he might actually leave her alone. But instead, he closed the distance between them, his voice low and steady. “You can hate me all you want, but it doesn’t change the fact that someone out there wants you dead. And I’m the only thing standing between you and them.”

Her anger faltered as his words sank in, but she refused to let him see her fear. “You think that justifies this?” she whispered.

“No.” His answer was immediate, almost startling. “But it’s the only way I know how to keep you safe.”

She stared at him, searching for a crack in his resolve, some sign that he wasn’t as unshakeable as he seemed. And then, quietly, she asked the same question she repeated every day, “Why me?”

For a long moment, Simon said nothing. When he finally spoke, his voice was softer than she’d ever heard it. “Because you’re the only person who’s ever looked at me like I was more than...this.” He gestured vaguely to himself, his lips pressed into a thin line.

Her chest tightened at the vulnerability in his words, and she hated the way it made her feel—like the ground wasn’t as solid beneath her feet as she’d thought.

“This isn’t how you show someone they matter,” she said, her tone softer now but no less firm.

Simon’s gaze dropped to the floor. “I know.”

Silence stretched between them. She wanted to scream at him, to demand answers, but the exhaustion of the situation weighed her down.

Instead, she turned and walked away, leaving him standing there in the dark. For now, she didn’t know if she could forgive him. But she knew one thing: he wasn’t going to let her go without a fight.

-

She was sitting on the couch, staring blankly at the TV, flipping through channels without watching a single thing.

Simon came in from outside, brushing snow off his jacket. He glanced at her, then at the TV. “Anything good on?”

She gave him a flat look. “No. Not unless you count reruns of cooking shows and soap operas.”

He smirked faintly, hanging his jacket by the door. “Could be worse. Could be a 24-hour news channel.”

She snorted despite herself, and the unexpected sound made Simon pause. For a moment, they just looked at each other, no one dared to say something.

“Do you even watch TV?” she asked, breaking the silence.

“Not much,” he admitted, leaning against the doorway. “But I’m guessing you’re not big on it either, considering how fast you’re flipping through.”

“Not much else to do,” she said, shrugging.

He tilted his head slightly. “We could play cards.”

“Cards?” She raised an eyebrow, half-amused, half-skeptical.

“Yeah, cards. You know, a deck of fifty-two? Clubs, hearts, spades, diamonds?”

She rolled her eyes. “I know what cards are, Simon.”

He held up his hands. “Just making sure. Could’ve fooled me with how bored you look.”

Something about his dry humor caught her off guard. She sighed, sitting up straighter. “Fine. Got a deck?”

A small grin tugged at the corner of his mouth. “Never leave home without one.”

Moments later, they were sitting across from each other at the small dining table, a deck of cards between them. He shuffled with practiced ease, the motion almost hypnotic.

“What are we playing?” she asked, watching his hands.

“Rummy. Unless you’re scared of a little competition.”

“Oh, you’re on.”

The first round was quiet, both of them focused on their hands. But by the second, she couldn’t help but comment. “You’re awfully good at this. Spent a lot of time in casinos?”

Simon chuckled softly. “Nah. Just something to do on long deployments.”

It struck her then—this moment, this normalcy. It was almost easy to forget the circumstances that had brought them here. Almost.

By the fourth round, she was laughing—actually laughing—when he groaned after losing to her for the first time. “You cheated.”

“You just can’t admit defeat,” she shot back, grinning.

“I’ll admit defeat when I see it. This? This is sabotage.”

For a fleeting moment, the house felt less like a prison and more like...a home. She didn’t know what to make of that feeling, but for now, she decided not to question it.

-

The house was warm, but the storm outside howled relentlessly, making her feel even more irritable than she already was. She pulled the blanket tighter around herself, glowering at the kettle on the stove like it had personally offended her.

Simon walked in from the other room, his footsteps careful as if he could sense the storm brewing inside her. “You’ve been staring at that kettle for ten minutes. Something wrong with it?”

She didn’t even look at him. “It’s taking forever.”

“It’s a kettle. Not a time machine.”

She shot him a glare that he could immediately know something wasn't right. “Do you ever stop talking?”

He raised his hands in mock surrender, leaning against the counter. “Alright, alright. Just thought you might want some company.”

“Well, I don’t,” she snapped, tugging the blanket higher over her shoulders.

Simon tilted his head, studying her for a moment. Then his eyes softened. “You’re not just grumpy. You’re in pain.”

She froze, the accusation hitting too close to home. “I’m fine,” she muttered, but her tone lacked conviction.

“You’re not.” He walked over to the cabinet, rummaging until he found a box of tea. “You could’ve just said something instead of trying to set the kettle on fire with your eyes.”

“I don’t need—”

“Just sit.” His voice was low but firm, and to her surprise, she obeyed, sinking into the couch with a huff.

A few minutes later, he placed a steaming mug in her hands, then disappeared into the other room. She stared after him, half expecting him to return with something ridiculous, but when he came back, it was with a small, unfamiliar heating pad.

“Where did you get that?” she asked, narrowing her eyes suspiciously.

“Came with the house,” he said simply, plugging it in and handing it to her.

She hesitated but eventually took it, the warmth seeping into her abdomen almost immediately. “Thanks,” she mumbled, avoiding his gaze.

Simon didn’t respond. Instead, he grabbed the edge of her blanket and, to her shock, slid onto the couch beside her, pulling the blanket around them both.

“What are you doing?” she asked, eyeing him suspiciously.

“Keeping you warm. Relax, I’m not gonna steal your precious tea.”

She rolled her eyes but didn’t protest when his arm rested lightly along the back of the couch, just brushing her shoulders.

Minutes passed in comfortable silence, broken only by the storm outside. She leaned back slightly, the warmth from the tea, the heating pad, and Simon's presence making her eyelids droop.

“This doesn’t mean I like you,” she murmured, half-asleep.

He chuckled softly, the sound rumbling through his chest. “Didn’t think it did.”

But when she shifted closer, letting her head rest against his shoulder, he didn’t say another word.

-

The room was dim, the single desk lamp casting long shadows across the scattered papers and photos spread out before her. Each document felt like another piece of a puzzle she couldn’t solve.

Simon leaned against the doorframe, his masked face unreadable as always. She didn’t bother looking up; his presence had become a constant, for better or worse.

“I still don’t get it,” she said, her voice tight with frustration. “Why would someone want me dead? I’m not exactly a threat to national security.”

“No, but you’ve seen things,” Simon replied, his tone calm but laced with something she couldn’t quite place. “Heard things. That makes you valuable—or dangerous.”

She slammed her hand on the desk, sending a photo sliding to the floor. “That’s not an answer! It’s just another vague excuse.”

He pushed off the wall and walked toward her. “You think the people coming after you are the type to leave behind a calling card? ‘Here’s why we’re trying to kill you, love.’”

“I didn’t ask for this,” she muttered, sinking into the chair and running a hand through her hair. “And I didn’t ask for your help, either.”

Simon crouched beside her, his dark eyes narrowing. “You didn’t have to. If I hadn’t stepped in, you wouldn’t be sitting here asking questions. You’d be six feet under.”

She looked away, his words hitting harder than she wanted to admit. “Fine,” she said quietly, “but that still doesn’t explain why you care. Why go through all this trouble for me?”

He leaned in, his breath warm against her ear, his voice low and full of a dangerous edge.

"Because I’m the only one who understands you," he said, his words dripping with something darker. "You think they care about you the way I do? You think they’d protect you? No one else would go this far."

Her breath hitched in her throat, and she opened her mouth to protest, but he was already moving closer, his presence engulfing her. The air between them grew thick, suffocating.

"You don't get it, do you?" His voice was barely a whisper now, and there was something almost possessive in the way he said it. "They think you're weak. They think you're disposable. But you belong to me."

Her stomach twisted, a mix of confusion and something else she refused to acknowledge. “What do you mean, ‘belong to you’?” she demanded, her voice trembling despite herself.

Simon’s lips curled into a smile, but it didn’t reach his eyes. His gaze was intense, almost feverish as he took another step forward, his body crowding hers. “I’m the one who’s been keeping you alive, love. The one who’s watched your back when no one else cared. I’m the one who knows everything about you, and I’m the one who will make sure no one else gets close enough to take you away from me.”

Her pulse quickened at the intensity of his words, and the space between them felt like it was closing in, suffocating her. She opened her mouth to protest, but the words wouldn’t come.

“You don’t get to question it,” he murmured, his hand reaching up to tuck a strand of hair behind her ear. “You’re mine. No one touches you, no one gets near you. Not even them.” His fingers lingered on her skin for a moment too long before he stepped back slightly, but the possessiveness in his eyes never wavered.

She wanted to push him away, to yell at him for being insane, but something in her stomach churned, making it hard to focus. He wasn’t just saving her. He was keeping her for himself.

And that terrified her more than anything else.

“I won’t let them take you,” he added, voice low and deadly, his eyes never leaving hers. “I’ll make sure of that.”

"You don’t have to do this," she said quietly, trying to regain some semblance of control.

But Simon only smiled, a smile that sent chills down her spine. "I don’t have to, but I will."

-

She tossed and turned in the bed, her breath shallow, her mind trapped in the nightmare that had become too familiar.

The shadowy figures circled around her, their faces blurred, their footsteps echoing in her ears. They were so close now, so close that she could feel the cold breath on her neck, the promise of something terrible looming.

She couldn’t breathe. She couldn’t scream. Her body was frozen, and the nightmare only grew darker. The figures reached out, hands like claws—then—

"NO!"

Her voice broke the silence as she shot up in bed, gasping for air, her heart pounding against her chest. Sweat slicked her skin, her body trembling from the terror she couldn’t shake off.

For a moment, she was still, trying to calm her breathing, her eyes wild and searching the darkness. Her fingers clenched the sheets, but the nightmare lingered, the fear still gripping her, even though she was awake.

The door creaked open, and before she could react, Simon was standing there, his figure a dark silhouette against the dim light of the hallway. His voice was soft, but it cut through the thick tension in the room.

“You’re alright,” he said, stepping inside without waiting for permission. “It was just a dream.”

She didn’t answer him immediately, her hands still trembling as she rubbed her face, trying to chase away the lingering panic. The nightmare felt too real. It always did.

“I’m not okay,” she whispered, voice barely audible. She hated how weak she sounded, but she couldn’t help it. She was scared, terrified of what they might do to her, and she didn’t know how to stop it.

Simon walked toward the bed, his heavy boots making barely a sound on the floor. Without a word, he sat beside her, the heat from his body drawing her in like a lifeline.

“Shh…” he murmured as he pulled her gently into his arms, his embrace firm. “You’re safe here.”

She didn’t say anything, letting herself melt into him, letting his warmth chase away the lingering chill from the nightmare. His heartbeat, steady and sure, was the only sound in the room now.

“Are you—” she started, but her voice cracked, and she had to swallow the lump in her throat. She didn’t want to be weak in front of him, didn’t want him to see how terrified she truly was. But when he was this close, it was hard to hide anything.

“You’re safe,” Simon repeated, his voice lower now, like a promise. He tightened his hold on her slightly, pulling her even closer. His breath brushed against her forehead as he spoke again. “I’ll make sure no one ever gets close to you again. No one will touch you. I’ll kill them all before they lay a finger on you.”

Her chest tightened at his words—not with fear, but with something else, something that made her heart beat faster. She didn’t know what to say, but the way he held her, it made her feel… safe in a way she couldn’t explain.

She closed her eyes, leaning into him, the soft rhythm of his breathing soothing her as she tried to forget the nightmare. Slowly, the darkness of the room began to fade, the weight of the night lessened by the comfort of Simon’s presence.

In the quiet, as she drifted back into sleep, Simon’s voice was the last thing she heard.

“I’ll protect you. Always.”

And with that, she finally allowed herself to relax, the nightmare slipping further away as the warmth of his arms surrounded her.

PART 5

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I've got so many ideas for these two...

@daydreamerwoah @spicyspicyliving @blackhawkfanatic @identity2212 @tessakate

[shdysders]

merry christmas, please don’t call

pairing: jenna ortega & female reader

summary: jenna spends christmas alone, reflecting on the what she used to have, and what she’s left with.

word count: 4.5k

The hotel room felt suffocating, even in its forced cheer.

The staff had done their best to make it festive—a tiny artificial tree sat on the desk, adorned with gold and red baubles, and a garland stretched awkwardly across the headboard.

Someone had left a peppermint-scented candle on the bedside table, unlit, but its cloying sweetness lingered in the air. It was the kind of decoration meant to feel cozy, but to Jenna, it only emphasized how hollow everything felt.

She sat in bed, propped up by too-soft pillows that sagged against the headboard. The blanket was bunched in her lap, her legs curled beneath it, but the chill in the air clung to her skin.

Turning her head, she could see the window partially cracked open. Beyond the glass, the street below glowed with strings of multicolored Christmas lights, their reflections dancing faintly on the walls of her room.

If she closed her eyes, she could almost imagine the sounds of the street: the distant hum of carolers, the faint jingle of a Salvation Army bell, the chatter and laughter of families walking between shops still open late for the holiday rush. But she didn't need to imagine. The muffled noise seeped in through the window, each cheerful note like a knife twisting deeper.

She leaned her head back against the headboard, letting her gaze linger on the window. The flicker of a streetlight caught her eye, the faint stutter in its glow matching the rhythm of her own restless thoughts. The warmth and noise outside felt like it belonged to another world entirely. One she'd willingly shut herself out of.

Here, in this small, overdecorated room, there was only silence. Well, almost silence. Just her and the heavy pulse of her anger, pressing against her ribs like a second heartbeat.

The streetlight flickered again, a weak pulse that struggled to keep rhythm with the night. Jenna watched it absently, the irregular pattern syncing with the tension in her body—the way her jaw clenched, her fingers curled into the blanket, the tightness that never really left her chest. The tempo of her uptight, she thought bitterly. If anyone could describe her like that, it'd be you.

This moment, this stillness, wasn't new. She knew it too well, the way it always crept in after a fight or, worse, after she'd pushed you too far.

Time always slowed down in moments like this, as if it wanted her to sit in her mess, to take a good, long look at what she'd done. The silence wasn't kind; it didn't offer peace or comfort. It was sharp-edged and deliberate, like the universe's way of saying: Here. This is what you've made.

And time was strangely calm now, wasn't it? Outside, the world kept moving—families bustling down the street, the faint echoes of carolers drifting up—but here, it felt like everything had stopped. Everyone was gone. Everyone, especially you.

Her gaze fell back to the unlit candle on the bedside table. She hated the way it sat there, like it was taunting her. It was supposed to feel warm, comforting, like Christmas should. But all she could see was the way its wick curled, blackened from some previous use. Something burned out. Something that didn't quite work anymore.

It was just her now. Her and the anger that never really went away. She felt it simmer beneath the surface, like it was waiting for her to try and shove it aside, so it could come roaring back, stronger than ever. But there was no one left to yell at now. No one left to take it out on.

It was just her and her anger.

Jenna let out a long breath, her fingers gripping the edge of the blanket as her thoughts spiraled again.

She couldn't stop thinking about what you would say to someone if they asked why it ended. Would you tell them the truth? That the version of her you'd loved—the version everyone else seemed to worship—wasn't real? That your golden girl wasn't golden at all when it was just the two of you?

She hated how much that thought stung. But she couldn't deny it. You'd seen every crack, every sharp edge, every angry word she hadn't been able to hold back. And she hated even more that you were right to leave.

Golden girl. The words echoed in her head, but they weren't yours, not really. They were her own. Her own bitter acknowledgment of the way she'd pretended to be something she wasn't. She'd been yours, but she hadn't been kind. Not the way she should have been.

It was easier, she realized, to blame you in the beginning. To tell herself that you just didn't understand the pressure she was under, that you expected too much, that you were too sensitive. But now, sitting here in this empty room, she couldn't outrun the truth.

You hadn't been the problem. She had. She'd been awful. Every time.

She leaned forward, her elbows resting on her knees, and buried her face in her hands. The weight of her own anger was crushing, but it was nothing compared to the hollow ache of missing you.

If you ever talked about her to someone else, what would you say? Would you tell them how she had pushed you away, how she always made you feel like you were in the wrong? Or would you soften the truth, protect her the way you always did, even when she didn't deserve it?

Jenna squeezed her eyes shut, as if that could block out the flood of memories. The way you used to hold her, the way you always seemed to know when she needed it most. But now, she didn't want to be held. Not by you, not by anyone. Not when it was too late.

Don't hold me like you know me. The words felt like they belonged to you, as if you'd whispered them in her ear the last time she reached for you. The memory made her chest tighten, sharp and unbearable.

She didn't deserve comfort. She didn't deserve you.

If this was what forever felt like—burning in the emptiness she'd created—then she supposed she'd earned it.

Her chest tightened as the memory of your face came flooding back. Not the happy, easy smile she had fallen for, but the guarded expression that had become more familiar as time went on. She didn't like to admit it, but she could see now how her anger had drained the light from you, piece by piece.

You used to be so vibrant, so full of life. But by the end, you had grown so quiet. Careful. Like every step you took had to be measured, every word chosen with precision, or you'd accidentally set her off again.

Jenna's stomach churned as she remembered the way you'd tread through your shared apartment, as if walking on glass. That's what it had felt like—fragile and dangerous, the ground beneath you constantly threatening to break. She hated herself for not seeing it then, for not realizing how suffocating it must have been to live like that. To live with her.

The apartment had always felt too big after you left. Empty. Cold. Haunted, almost. She'd walk through the halls and see pieces of you everywhere—your favorite mug still on the counter, the blanket you always curled up with thrown over the arm of the couch. It was as though you had left your ghost behind, lingering in the spaces you used to fill with warmth and laughter.

But now, sitting here in this lonely hotel room, Jenna saw the truth for what it was: She was the one who had haunted that home. She had filled it with her anger, her outbursts, her inability to handle the pressure of her own life. And in the process, she had turned the place you were supposed to share into a prison.

It was no wonder you had been dying there. Slowly, quietly, but dying all the same.

She buried her face in her hands again, the weight of it all crushing her. She had thought she was losing herself back then, but she hadn't stopped to see what it was doing to you. The way it had chipped away at your spirit until there was barely anything left.

Jenna exhaled shakily, her shoulders trembling as she tried to pull herself together. She could still see the way you'd looked at her the last time you fought, your voice low and steady as you said you couldn't do it anymore. There was no anger in your words, no blame—just exhaustion.

She hadn't understood it then. She thought you were giving up, throwing away everything you had together. But now, she could see it for what it really was: survival.

The faint sound of church bells rang in the distance, marking the passage of time she wasn't sure she wanted to measure. Whether it was Christmas Eve or the day after didn't really matter. All she knew was that she was here, in this hotel room, and you weren't.

Jenna's eyes burned as she stared out the window, the kaleidoscope of Christmas lights on the street below blurring into a messy swirl. The toughest part wasn't the emptiness of the room or even the ache that sat like a lump in her throat. It was the fact that she knew—you both knew—why she had ended up here, alone.

She could try to blame it on the demands of her career, the endless hours on set, the constant pressure to be perfect. That had always been the easiest excuse. But deep down, she understood that wasn't the real reason. Not entirely.

It wasn't the work itself, but the way she let it bleed into every corner of her life. She carried the stress home with her, let it fester and twist her into someone she didn't even recognize. And instead of addressing it, she lashed out—at you, the one person who had been there, trying so hard to hold her together when she couldn't do it herself.

But it wasn't just the yelling, was it? It was the way she'd made you feel like you were the problem, like you weren't doing enough, weren't patient enough, weren't good enough. She could still hear the echoes of her own voice, sharp and cutting, as if saying those things would somehow make the pressure inside her head ease.

It hadn't. All it had done was drive you away.

And now here she was, on her own, because she had chosen to hold onto the one thing that didn't need her in return. Work was safe. It was steady. It didn't look at her with hurt in its eyes or ask her why she was so angry all the time. It didn't make her feel guilty for being exactly who she had become.

But it wasn't enough. Not now, not tonight, not when all the lights and sounds of the holiday seemed to mock her, reminding her of what she used to have.

You had been hers once. And she had been yours. But her own anger and pride had turned something beautiful into something unbearable. You had left to save yourself, and even though she hated how it had ended, she couldn't blame you.

The truth was, you'd been right to walk away. She had chosen her work over you, over everything you'd built together. She could pretend it had been an accident, that she hadn't seen it coming—but that wasn't true.

She had known exactly what she was doing.

And so had you.

Jenna leaned back against the headboard, staring blankly at the dim, uneven glow of the streetlights outside. But it wasn't the flicker of Christmas lights or the faint hum of carolers that filled her mind.

It was last Christmas. The one she spent with you.

She could still remember the way your face lit up as you dragged the tree into your shared apartment, snow dusting your coat and hair. You'd insisted on picking the perfect one yourself, even though it was too big to fit without rearranging half the furniture. She had laughed at you that day, teasing you for your over-the-top enthusiasm, but secretly, she'd loved every second of it.

You'd spent the whole evening decorating together, untangling lights and bickering over where to hang each ornament.

She remembered how you had stood on tiptoes to reach the higher branches, only to have the star at the top lean precariously to the side. She'd held your waist to steady you, her fingers lingering even when the task was done. The warmth of your laughter had filled the room, a sharp contrast to the cold wind rattling the windows outside.

She remembered the gifts, too—the thought you'd put into each one. Little things that showed how well you knew her: the vintage film camera she'd been eyeing for months, a sweater she'd once mentioned offhandedly, even the snacks she loved but rarely bought for herself.

It was all so simple, so perfect. She hadn't even realized, in that moment, how much she'd taken for granted.

But now, the memories felt sharper, more vivid than they had any right to be. Each one was a reminder of what she'd lost—and more importantly, what she'd destroyed.

Because the truth was, she hadn't deserved any of it. Not your laughter, not your love, not the way you'd always been patient with her, even when she didn't make it easy.

She hadn't deserved the way you'd always waited for her to come home from set, no matter how late it was, or the way you'd tried to smooth over the cracks in your relationship, even when she'd refused to admit they were there.

This Christmas was different. No tree, no laughter, no gifts. Just the cold, impersonal glow of the hotel room decorations and the heavy weight of her own regret.

She wondered what you were doing now. Were you with your family? Friends? Had you moved on? The thought of you celebrating without her shouldn't have hurt—it was exactly what she deserved—but it did. It stung in a way she couldn't quite put into words.

The memories weren't always this loud. Or maybe she just wasn't usually this still, this quiet, with nothing to drown them out. But tonight, the silence in her room felt suffocating, pulling everything from the back of her mind to the surface, until she couldn't escape it anymore.

She didn't need to be reminded of what she'd lost—she already carried that knowledge like a weight on her chest. But the holidays seemed determined to twist the knife, filling her head with flashes of last year, of the way you'd smiled at her while untangling Christmas lights, or the sound of your laugh when she'd tried (and failed) to hang the garland straight.

Those moments felt impossibly far away now, like they'd belonged to someone else entirely. But they hadn't. They'd belonged to you. To her. To something she'd taken for granted until it slipped through her fingers, as if it had never been hers to hold in the first place.

And then her mind went somewhere darker. Not to the laughter or the gifts, but to that last night. The last time she saw you. She could still picture it, the way your face had looked as you stood by the door, keys in hand, your shoulders tense with exhaustion.

She didn't even remember what the fight had been about—did it matter anymore?—but she remembered the way you'd turned, looking at her like you'd already made your peace with leaving.

Your voice had been calm, too calm, as you said the words that still echoed in her head every time she thought of calling you.

"Please don't call me."

It hadn't been a plea, not really. More of a quiet boundary, drawn for your own sake. But it felt final, like you were begging her not to drag you back into the cycle you'd both been trapped in for so long. She hadn't been able to argue, not this time.

Because you'd been right. She always called. Every time. After every fight, every lashing out, every dramatic exit. It didn't matter if she'd stormed out claiming she needed space, or if you'd left first, needing a moment to breathe—she always found herself dialing your number in the end.

Sometimes it was to ask you to come pick her up from some bar where she'd gone to cool off. Sometimes it was to mumble apologies she didn't know how to make stick.

It was a pattern, predictable and toxic in its own way. She'd lash out, and you'd hold your ground until you couldn't anymore. She'd leave, then call, and you'd come back. It had always been like that. Until the day it wasn't.

She stared at her phone now, the blank screen almost daring her to break the silence. Her hand hovered over it for a moment, her thumb itching to open your contact and tap the button she'd worn out so many times before. But she didn't.

Because this time, she could almost hear your voice again, that calm, steady tone you'd used that night: Don't call me.

She imagined you now, wherever you were, sitting by a tree with your family or curled up on a couch with friends. She imagined you hearing the faint buzz of your phone, glancing at it and seeing her name on the screen. And she imagined the way your face would fall, the way you'd probably sigh before setting the phone down, turning it over so you wouldn't have to look at it again.

The thought hurt more than it should have. Not just because she knew it was true, but because she couldn't even blame you for it. You had every reason not to want to hear from her.

"Merry Christmas," she murmured to herself, the words bitter in her mouth. Her fingers curled into her palm, pulling back from the phone. The silence stretched on, and for once, she let it.

The weight of her gaze had always been too much. It wasn't the kind of look that made you feel seen or understood; it was sharper than that, heavier. It pinned you in place, dissecting, analyzing, always searching for something to pick apart.

You used to think it was love, the way she watched you so closely, like you were the center of her world. But over time, it started to feel like something else—like a cage made of her expectations, her disappointments, her silent judgments.

Even now, with her miles away, you could still feel it. That gaze, that suffocating pressure, etched into your memory like a scar. You didn't need to be in the same room to feel it bearing down on you, its weight impossible to shake.

And then there was the cycle. God, the cycle. It always started the same way: a moment of calm, of almost-normalcy, before the tension crept back in. Before she found some tiny crack in the foundation, some flaw she could magnify until it became all either of you could see.

The arguments would spiral, the silences would stretch, and then it would end the way it always did—with you forgiving her, with her promising it wouldn't happen again, with the carousel spinning back to where it started.

Jenna didn't mean for it to feel that way, but she knew it did. She'd catch herself staring too long, scrutinizing every little move you made as if she were trying to control you with her mind. It wasn't about finding flaws, she told herself; it was about understanding you, knowing you.

But somewhere along the way, the intention got lost. It turned into something uglier, something possessive. She hated how tightly she clung, how desperately she needed to know what you were thinking, what you were feeling. It never felt like enough—she could never hold enough of you to quiet the storm in her head.

The worst part was that Jenna knew the carousel wouldn't stop spinning. Not for you, not for her, not for anyone. It wasn't as simple as stepping off. She could tell herself all the lies in the world—that she could fix this, that she could fix herself—but the truth was, she didn't know how. And as much as she wanted to blame you for walking away, for giving up on her, deep down, she knew it wasn't your fault.

She was the one who kept the ride moving. The one who turned every quiet moment into a battlefield, every gentle glance into a test you didn't even know you were taking. She was the one who built the carousel, brick by brick, and then dragged you onto it without ever asking if you wanted to ride.

Even now, alone in this hotel room, she could still hear the echoes of the cycle. The biting words, the slammed doors, the desperate apologies that never really meant anything because they were always followed by another explosion. She could still see the way you'd look at her in those moments—tired, hollow, like you were slipping away right in front of her.

The snowfall outside was soft, steady, blanketing the world in a quiet Jenna couldn't seem to find within herself.

She looked out the window, her phone idle on the table beside her, and let her eyes wander over the frost-laced streets below.

It was the kind of night meant for joy, for warmth, for celebration. Families rushing home with last-minute gifts. Couples pulling their scarves tighter as they walked hand in hand through the cold. Friends laughing as they spilled out of taxis.

She should've been out there. With you.

Her chest ached at the thought, like a sharp tug on a thread that unraveled everything. Every part of her life she'd spent building now lay in ruins, all because she couldn't be the person you deserved.

She could almost picture it: you walking through the snow, your arms full of poorly wrapped gifts, cursing at the wind and laughing at yourself because you knew you'd overdone it again.

You'd have dragged her along, insisted on stopping at every light display, every tree lot, every tiny moment that felt like Christmas.

Jenna had ruined that.

She could still see the changes in you, even now, though it had been months since she'd last seen your face. She hadn't noticed them at first—too wrapped up in her own frustrations, too preoccupied with her work and her temper to see how much it was costing her.

But it was clear now, stark and undeniable. The light in your eyes had dimmed. The way you held yourself had shifted, like you were bracing for impact every time she walked into the room. The joy you used to carry so effortlessly had eroded, little by little, under the weight of her anger, her words, her constant demands.

She thought of the Christmas’s before, the ones you'd spent together. The way you'd worked tirelessly to make it perfect, putting up the tree alone because she was too busy to help.

You'd spent hours wrapping gifts for her, though you knew she didn't care about presents. It was the effort that mattered to you, the way it showed love. She hadn't understood that then.

The memory twisted like a knife now. She hadn't even opened most of those gifts. They were still in the closet of the apartment you used to share, untouched and gathering dust. Just another symbol of everything she'd taken for granted.

And now? Now she was here, alone, staring at a world she no longer felt a part of. You weren't there to pull her out of her head, to remind her that there was more to life than her endless need to be in control.

She clenched her jaw, her hand tightening around the edge of the table as the guilt surged again, stronger this time. It always came back to the same realization: she'd done this.

She'd pushed you away, worn you down, and now all she had left were the memories of the person you used to be—the person she'd destroyed.

Jenna's gaze fell to the phone. For a fleeting second, she thought about calling. Apologizing. Begging. But what could she even say? There weren't words for the damage she'd done, for the ways she'd broken you. And even if there were, you didn't owe her forgiveness.

Somewhere out there, you were moving on. She tried to convince herself of that, that you were laughing and celebrating and happy without her. It was the only comfort she could cling to, even if it felt like a dagger every time she imagined it.

Jenna now sat by the window, the phone heavy in her hand as she stared at the quiet street below. Christmas lights blinked from the lampposts, their warm glow reflecting off the patches of ice and snow.

She could see a family unloading their car, arms filled with brightly wrapped presents, laughter echoing faintly through the glass. Her chest ached at the sight.

This wasn't how the night was supposed to be. She was supposed to be with you. You were supposed to be the one curling up next to her on the couch, sharing blankets and cheap champagne. Instead, she was alone, the apartment feeling impossibly cold despite the thermostat turned higher than usual.

Her fingers tightened around the phone. She wanted to call you. Every part of her screamed to just do it, to hear your voice, even if it was only for a moment. Maybe you wouldn't even answer. Maybe you'd see her name flash across the screen and let it go to voicemail.

She didn't blame you.

Her mind wandered back to last Christmas again, the way you'd made everything feel magical despite the fights that had already started to pile up between you. She'd never been good at holidays, but you'd been determined to change that.

It was hard to think about now. Hard to hold onto the good memories when they were tainted by everything that had come after. The shouting, the silences, the way she'd always found a way to push you away, even when all you wanted was to stay.

And now? You weren't hers anymore.

She closed her eyes, your voice echoing in her head—Don't call me this time. You'd said it so calmly, so firmly, that she hadn't even fought back. For once, she'd let you go, thinking she'd have time to fix it later.

But now it was Christmas, and she was here, and you were somewhere else, living a life that didn't include her.

She lowered the phone onto the table, her throat tight as she stared at the blank screen. Calling wouldn't change anything. It wouldn't bring you back.

And that was the hardest part of all.

And when she closed her eyes, all she could hear was your voice that night. Although a few words were added onto it.

Merry christmas, please don't call.

[its-avalon-08]

This is something i have been thinking of. Lando Norris x Sainz!sister. Essentially, both of them are friends with benefits, but they both like eachother more. But Lando makes it seem like he is super casual. So when Y/N asks Lando if he wants to go out for dinner and he says "we arent dating i dont owe you that " and goes with another girl to a club, Y/N is super hurt and is crying in carlos's arms who confronts lando and punches him. happy ending pls

look me in the eyes and tell me how you feel (ln4)

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

monaco shimmered under the twilight, a playground for the rich and the reckless. lando norris, ever the showman, weaved through the throngs of fans at a yacht party, a mischievous glint in his eyes. his gaze, however, kept flitting towards a balcony bathed in soft light. there, y/n sainz, carlos's younger sister, leaned against the railing, her laughter like wind chimes.

lando and y/n had a… complicated arrangement. stolen kisses in motorhomes, tangled limbs in hotel rooms, whispered promises that morphed into playful banter the next morning. it was a delicious dance, fueled by adrenaline and undeniable chemistry. but lando, a master of deflecting emotions with a goofy grin, kept it firmly in the realm of casual. he couldn't risk messing things up with carlos, his teammate and closest friend.

the party thrummed with music. y/n, catching his eye, blew him a kiss, a playful challenge in her smile. a thrill shot through lando, warring with the voice of his carefully constructed facade. he sauntered over to a group of models, his trademark grin plastered on. a blonde beauty, all curves and confidence, latched onto his arm.

"hey, lando, fancy a drink?" she purred.

lando, internally cringing, forced a laugh. "sure thing, love." his peripheral vision caught y/n stiffen, a flicker of hurt crossing her features before she masked it with a dazzling smile for a group of friends.

later that night, as the party wound down, y/n approached lando, her usual vibrancy dimmed. "hey, you wanna grab dinner sometime this week?"

lando, caught off guard, fumbled for his usual playful response. "uh, y/n, you know the deal, right? we're not exactly...dating." he winced at the sting in his own voice.

y/n's smile faltered. "yeah, i guess i just…" she trailed off, disappointment clouding her eyes. "never mind. have fun tonight."

lando watched her walk away, a cold knot clenching his stomach. he hated himself for playing it cool, but the fear of ruining their friendship, of losing carlos, held him captive.

he spotted y/n leaving with another guy, a forced smile plastered on her face. jealousy, a green-eyed monster he'd never acknowledged before, roared to life. he spent the rest of the night drowning his turmoil in champagne, a hollow feeling gnawing at him.

rain lashed against the motorhome windows, mirroring the storm brewing inside y/n. curled up on a bunk, she hugged her knees to her chest, body wracked with silent sobs. the memory of lando's flippant "we aren't dating" echoed in her ears, a cruel reminder of their confusing situation.

a creak on the stairs alerted her. before she could wipe away the tears, the door swung open and carlos's concerned face appeared. "y/n? what's wrong?"

he rushed to her side, his presence a familiar comfort. all pretense melted away as y/n threw herself into his arms, the dam breaking with a fresh torrent of tears. carlos held her tight, his jaw clenched, a storm brewing within him that rivaled the one outside.

"he…lando…we…" y/n hiccupped between sobs, unable to form a coherent sentence.

carlos understood. his sister, usually a ball of sunshine, was a shattered mess. he rubbed her back soothingly, letting the tears flow until they subsided into sniffles.

"talk to me, hermanita," carlos said softly, using their childhood nickname for 'little sister.' "did he…did he hurt you?"

shame burned in y/n's cheeks, but she knew she couldn't keep it from carlos. "we aren't…dating, he says. just…fun. but it doesn't feel that way to me, carlos. i care about him, a lot."

carlos felt a familiar pang of protectiveness. he'd seen the way lando looked at y/n sometimes, the way a stolen glance lingered a beat too long. the frustrating thing was, lando clearly felt something too, yet his fear held him back.

"he's an idiot," carlos muttered, the words laced with anger and affection in equal measure. "but you deserve better than being kept in some emotional limbo, y/n."

y/n wiped at her remaining tears, her voice laced with a newfound determination. "i know. i just…i thought there was something there. we laugh together, we…" she trailed off, a blush creeping up her neck. "it doesn't feel casual, carlos."

carlos chuckled dryly. "trust me, i know. you practically glow whenever you're around him." he wrapped her in another hug. "but listen, sometimes guys, especially lando, can be dense as bricks when it comes to feelings."

y/n snorted, a faint smile playing on her lips. "thanks for the vote of confidence in our resident goofball."

carlos pulled back, wiping away a stray tear from her cheek. "look, you need to talk to him, y/n. tell him how you feel. and if he can't meet you halfway…"

he left the sentence unfinished, but y/n knew what he meant. "yeah, i know."

a beat of silence followed, broken only by the drumming rain. "but what if he doesn't feel the same?" y/n's voice hitched slightly.

carlos squeezed her hand. "then he's the one missing out. you, y/n, are amazing. funny, smart, and strong. he'd be a fool to let you go."

y/n looked up at him, a flicker of hope rekindled in her eyes. "really?"

carlos grinned, his usual mischievous glint returning. "absolutely. now, are you up for some revenge ice cream? we can trash lando's favorite video game while we eat it."

y/n laughed, a genuine, full-bodied laugh that filled the small space. "you're the best brother ever, carlos."

"that's what brothers are for," he said, pulling her into another hug. "now, let's get that ice cream and show lando what he's missing."

the next morning, lando found carlos pacing furiously in their shared motorhome. before he could stammer an explanation, carlos launched into a tirade.

"lando, what the hell did you do to y/n?"

the truth tumbled out, a torrent of guilt and frustration. as lando confessed his tangled feelings, carlos listened, his face a mask of conflicting emotions.

"you idiot!" carlos finally roared, landing a solid punch on lando's jaw. "she's been crazy about you for months!"

the pain in his jaw was nothing compared to the dawning realization. lando understood in that moment just how badly he'd messed up.

meanwhile, y/n, teary-eyed, sought solace in carlos's embrace. he listened patiently, his heart aching for his sister. as she sobbed about the confusing, one-sided nature of her relationship with lando, carlos knew it was time for a little brotherly intervention.

lando, bruised and shaken, confronted y/n later that day. he poured his heart out, confessing his fear of losing her and carlos. y/n, hesitant at first, listened, her own vulnerability peeking through.

"lando," she said softly, "we could have talked about it. you could have trusted me."

y/n sniffled, wiping away a stray tear that escaped down her cheek. lando sat beside her on the motorhome couch, his heart heavy with regret. the balcony overlooking the glistening monaco harbor, once a backdrop for stolen kisses, now felt cold and empty.

"i just...don't understand," y/n said, her voice small. "why can't it be more?"

lando reached out, his hand hovering over hers before retreating. "it's me, y/n. i messed up. royally." shame burned in his throat.

"why? you like me, don't you?" she looked up at him, her eyes glistening with unshed tears.

he took a deep breath. "like you? y/n, i…" he swallowed hard. "i'm terrified i'll lose you."

"lose me? how?"

"carlos," he confessed, the name catching in his throat. "he's my brother, my best friend. the thought of messing that up…"

y/n's brow furrowed. "so you'd rather keep things…casual…than risk our friendship?"

lando winced. "it sounds stupid when you say it out loud."

"it does," she agreed, a faint spark of anger flickering in her eyes. "because it is, lando."

he looked away, guilt gnawing at him. "i know. i'm an idiot."

silence stretched between them, thick and heavy. finally, y/n spoke, her voice stronger now. "fear shouldn't dictate our happiness, lando. not mine, not yours."

he finally met her gaze, a flicker of hope igniting in his chest. "you wouldn't…walk away?"

she shook her head, a hint of a smile playing on her lips. "not if you're willing to take a chance, scaredy-cat."

lando's lips curved into a genuine grin. "alright then, fearless leader. let's see where this crazy thing takes us." he reached for her hand this time, his grip firm and warm. "together."

tears welled up in lando's eyes. "i will, y/n. from now on, nothing but the truth."

and that's how it began. a real, honest relationship built on shared laughter, late-night talks that stretched into sunrise, and a fierce, protective love. the paddock buzzed with speculation, but lando and y/n reveled in their newfound happiness. they were a force to be reckoned with on the track, and even more so off it, their playful banter now laced with a deeper affection.

one warm evening, after a podium finish for lando, they found themselves on the balcony of that same monaco yacht party. this time, y/n leaned against him, her head on his shoulder, a comfortable silence settling between them.

"next time," she said, a mischievous glint in her eyes, "dinner's on you. no excuses."

lando chuckled, pulling her closer. "wouldn't have it any other way." he knew, with a certainty that warmed him from the inside out, that this was more than just a delicious dance. it was a love story waiting to be written, and they were finally holding the pen.

news of their relationship spread like wildfire through the f1 circus. fans, initially surprised, warmed to the genuine connection between the young couple. lando's playful side, usually reserved for post-race interviews, found its way onto the podium, fueled by y/n's infectious laughter in the crowd.

their relationship wasn't without its challenges. there were jealous rivals, intrusive media, and the ever-present pressure of the racing world. but they faced it all together, a united front. y/n became lando's rock, his fierce supporter and confidante. he, in turn, was her biggest cheerleader, celebrating her triumphs, big and small.

their love story wasn't a fairy tale. there were arguments, late nights fueled by strategy and debriefs, and the occasional prank war between y/n and carlos (much to lando's amusement and slight annoyance). but through it all, their bond grew stronger.

one rainy weekend, cuddled up in their motorhome, lando surprised y/n with a small box. inside, nestled on velvet, was a delicate necklace. the pendant held a tiny silver replica of a helmet, engraved with "y/n" and their nicknames for each other. tears welled up in her eyes.

"it's perfect, lando," she whispered, her voice thick with emotion.

he pulled her close, his voice a low rumble. "just like you, y/n."

years passed, and their love story continued to unfold on and off the track. they supported each other through victories and defeats, podium finishes and heartbreaking crashes. they built a life together, filled with laughter, love, and the thrill of competition.

one sunny day, on the podium at monza, lando stood victorious, champagne spraying in the air. but his eyes were fixed on y/n, standing in the team garage, a radiant smile lighting up her face. he blew her a kiss, a silent promise whispered on the wind.

their love story, born under the glittering lights of monaco, had become a legend whispered through the grandstands of every formula one circuit. it was a testament to the power of vulnerability, the courage to face fears, and the unwavering belief that sometimes, the most exhilarating race is the one for love.

[coeurify]

actually on my knees begging for a girl next door blurb with Ellie

like imagine moving into the house next to her’s and her being all grumbly and closed off because she cannot physically face the reader because she’s just a loser lesbian and OMG THE UNKNOWN PINING SUJDJSNSNDB

I NEED HER I CANT-

WHERE IS THE LOVE FOR LOSER GND!ELLIE ⁉️

giggles.. cause like.. yea.

if we r talking modern!ellie, oh god would it be the most cliche shit ever (plz tell me if u want jackson!ellie version cause i’d be happy to do that too. or jus more of this concept) [not edited]

⋆˚✿˖° im talking, ellie looking out from her window in her old house, eyes narrowing as a moving truck pulled into the pretty blue house next door. the neighborhood had been recently taken over by young families, which ellie hated— cause why was she being interrupted in her ‘laying in her bed while blasting music and complaining to herself’ alone time by a bunch of kids screaming outside? either way. she expected another one of these cases.

⋆˚✿˖° but then you popped out, trying to handle three boxes all on your own, cheek pressed against the cardboard as you yelled something ellie couldn’t hear to whoever else was in moving truck. you had glanced over at ellie’s house, maybe even up at her window. and maybe ellie was just dramatic, but she flipped away from that window and face down onto her bed so quickly she was pretty sure it was a new record. because fuck you were pretty.

⋆˚✿˖° and it only got worse later, when el was pulling her hair down from its bun, glancing the sun pressing below the clouds. her fingers moved to close the curtains of her window, and there you were, standing at the window directly across from hers. like— shit straight from a taylor swift music video or something.

⋆˚✿˖° and you, almost as awkward as her, let your hands fall down from their place above your head. you had been putting up shades, but once you caught the gaze of your messy haired neighbor, you smiled at her. fuck, you smiled and waved and ellie just turned away and shut her curtains. you know, like the master at social interactions she was.

⋆˚✿˖° a twin frown painted both your lips at the interaction that night, and at the same time you both huffed out, “god, why’d i do that?”

⋆˚✿˖° nothing really got better from there. not when your family forced you over to ellie’s house with a plate of cookies, your sweet smile the first sight ellie had seen that day as she turned the doorknob to shoo away some girl scout selling something. “we don’t need— oh— oh hi.”

⋆˚✿˖° you looked so fucking pretty. ellie was sure it was fake. maybe she was still in bed dreaming. maybe this was about to turn into one of those really weird s- never mind. you were talking now, and not asking to borrow sugar, so definitely real. “hi! uh— I just, we— i mean, my family, we just wanted to introduce ourselves. and give a gift i guess,” you glance to the plate of wrapped up treats and chuckle lightly. because really, cookies?

⋆˚✿˖° ellie was about red as the shirt she was wearing, stammering a thank you as joel creeped behind her at the door. “you the new neighbors kid?” joel had asked, making ellie clam right up. she backed away from the door, like— just side shuffled out of your view with an awkward wave.

⋆˚✿˖° your eyes followed her, fighting back the odd sense of disappointment that you were no longer staring at the freckled and flushed face of your new neighbor. “uh, yea—yes sir.” you eventually spoke again, offering your grin to joel instead.

⋆˚✿˖° one time joel was doing yard work the same time your family was outside working on the garden. you were fanning your sweating cheek with your hand, the warmth from the sun along with carrying in and out heavy tools was not exactly ideal, and you only felt more heated when ellie came outside the door at the exact moment joel ended up making conversation with your mother.

⋆˚✿˖° “your girl in college?” you could hear him ask, but it was lightly muffled, your attention instead on watching as ellie struggled to bend over and tie her converse against the wall. what an odd way to do it. she was balancing some sort of notebook between arm.. maybe pencils too? did she draw? or maybe write? why couldn’t you stop wondering about it?

⋆˚✿˖° your mom answered joel’s question with some version of the story she always does, gushing about how you were doing so well in school, how she was so proud of you. you didn’t tune back in until joel was speaking again, “ah yea, my — well, ellie, she’s in school too. physics major. but she’s got this thing for astronomy too. kid’s always talking about double majoring.”

⋆˚✿˖° god, she was cute and smart? and her name was ellie? you swore the sun got even hotter at the thought of her talking to you about quantum something-or-other, just nodding along. god you could see it now. a hand in that pretty auburn hair.. mumbling ‘mhm.. whatever you say ellie.’

⋆˚✿˖° then you saw her trip down the stairs on her porch as she looked over. full on hand on the side of the stairs to keep her from eating shit on the rocks there. you sucked your bottom lip between your teeth, stifling a giggle as you wave her way. only to be given a tight lipped smile as she quickly moved away to her car. god. what an odd girl.

⋆˚✿˖° ellie simply lost it the moment she sat in her car, groaning loudly as she slammed her sketch book on her face. “stupid fucking shoes!” she muttered, as if it was the shoes fault for tripping, and not the way she had been intently staring at your face from across the yard. definitely not.

⋆˚✿˖° but really she couldn’t help it, you looked so good, you were wearing shorts, and ellie was happily taking in the sight of skin before that evil fucking creaky porch board got her tumbling down. fuck. she couldn’t ever talk to you again. not ever. she let her head fall to the steering wheel as she went through a million and one ways to simply become invisible and escape any way of running into you. maybe she should become nocturnal.

⋆˚✿˖° but when she let her head fall to the steering wheel, it honked. like a loud, drawn out honk that had you, joel, and your mother’s head turning to the direction of the sound.

⋆˚✿˖° ellie screeched, and you pressed fingers to your lips to contain another smile. you were pretty sure living here was going to be kind of great.

[mandoriana]

I imagined a story, where Arthur was born a woman, but Uther wanted an heir and forced his daughter to be a boy. However, Arthur is not trans; she is not a boy, even having muscles, wearing pants and armor, or even working with the knights. Arthur is a woman, and looking in the mirror and seeing a man is torture for her. No one besides Gaius and Uther knows about this. Morgana suspects that Arthur is gay but doesn’t know that Arthur just wants to be seen and looked at as a woman in the same way Morgana is seen. Basically, it’s a body dysphoria that many transgender people experience.

Since Arthur was always raised as a man, she doesn’t have a feminine name and hates being called Arthur, so she insists that everyone calls her Sir or Prince (I don’t know about outside my country, but Sir and Prince in Brazil are neutral names/nicknames).

When Merlin arrives in Camelot, he quickly clashes with Arthur and then saves her life, becoming the prince’s servant (Uther forgot that Arthur was a woman). At first, Merlin finds it strange that Arthur doesn’t let him help with anything, not being able to put away Arthur’s clothes, not helping her dress in normal clothes, only in armor, and not being allowed to wash her clothes sometimes (due to menstruation). Merlin also notices that the prince has strange behaviors, like staring too much at some ladies’ clothes like a pervert (Arthur was just envying the dress), getting more irritable and emotional once a month (PMS), and burning bloody cloths in the fireplace. Merlin saw this only once, and Arthur was so embarrassed that she kicked and yelled at Merlin to get out (medieval pads).

Anyway, Merlin starts to notice these details about Arthur while getting closer to the prince. One day (perhaps in the episode where Sophia enchants Arthur), Merlin needs to take care of an unconscious Arthur and decides to dress her in more comfortable clothes. When he opens the wardrobe, he is surprised to see feminine underwear and a crumpled dress hidden at the back. At first, he worries that he is serving a pervert, but he realizes there are no male underwear in Arthur’s wardrobe and starts to piece together that maybe the prince owns the feminine underwear. Merlin, always open-minded, decides it’s none of his business and grabs a soft white tunic that Arthur used to sleep in and goes to dress his prince, only to almost have a heart attack upon finding breasts instead of a muscular chest.

When Arthur wakes up and realizes someone changed her clothes, she panics and starts crying when she sees Merlin. She wanted to get angry and yell, but she can only beg Merlin not to tell anyone. Merlin approaches carefully and hugs Arthur, apologizing and saying it wasn’t his intention to hurt her and begging for forgiveness for violating her honor by seeing her body without permission. From then on, the two become even more inseparable than before. Merlin listens to what Uther forced Arthur to be and decides he will do everything in his power to make his PRINCESS the happiest woman in the world. Merlin starts spending his salary on dresses and corsets made to fit Arthur’s muscular body, starts calling Arthur by feminine pronouns when they are alone and neutral pronouns in public, refusing to call his princess by masculine pronouns. What I mean is that Merlin becomes the knight in shining armor that Arthur was forced to be, and Arthur finally gets to be the princess she always wanted to be.

I think the most exciting part I thought about this story was Merlin having the honor of naming Arthur, removing the name Uther forced on his heir and giving her a name worthy of the future Queen of Camelot. So one day, Arthur is wearing one of the dresses Merlin gave her and smiling at herself in the mirror, and Merlin calls her Astrid, making the princess cry because it was the first time in her life she felt like herself.

In the end, Merlin reveals his magic to Astrid, and Astrid reveals it to Morgana when Merlin tells her that Morgana has magic. This way, Morgana doesn’t become the villain, joining her beloved sister to overthrow Uther. It all ends with Astrid being crowned Queen, Morgana as the regent princess, and Merlin as the king

😊👐

[azrielslittleslut]

"The Lost Queen"- Chapter 11

Azriel x Fem!Reader

Summary: A magical incident causes Azriel to unexpectedly tumble through a portal into modern-day Earth. Confused and injured, he is discovered by a compassionate human woman with a hidden past. She takes care of him and helps him discover the complexities of the modern world, completely unaware of who she truly is. Meanwhile, Azriel struggles with his conflicting desires: his duty to the Night Court and his growing love for the woman who saved him.

Their journey unfolds amidst ancient prophecies and the looming threat in Prythian. As they uncover the truth about forces conspiring against them, they must confront their deepest fears and make choices that will change their lives and the world forever.

Warnings: language, slight angst, fluff

Word Count: 8k

series masterlist

a/n: i know, i know. it's been 2 months. but i'm back in the game, and i promise to update more frequently.

Enjoy!

Azriel leaned against the wall outside of his bedroom, his shadows swirling lazily around him. He smiled softly as he listened to you talking and laughing with Elain as she helped you get dressed. He was thankful that Elain had taken the task of helping you into this world upon herself, but he hadn’t been surprised.

Elain was kind and compassionate, and she knew what it was like to be forced into a world of magic and shadows. At one time, that was what had drawn Azriel in, and he had fantasized about what it would be like to be with Elain. But the Cauldron had other plans, giving her a mate that wasn’t Azriel.

Months ago, Az had hated that, and he had lost sleep over it. After that almost kiss on Solstice, he had distanced himself, deciding to let Elain choose her own path. The undeniable scent of her mating bond, a sign that she had accepted Lucien as hers, made him thankful for his decision.

Elain was happy now, the joy written all over her face. His entire family was happy, even though they were facing a strange darkness in Prythian. Az thought that perhaps he would be the one to never find happiness, and he had accepted that. He had made peace with it, even.

He had lived a life full of pain and torture, and he had hurt more people than he cared to admit. He had thought that his loneliness and pain were the world’s way of punishing him for all of the wrongs he had done, for all of the sins he had committed.

But then he had been pulled into a strange world and had met a beautiful, compassionate woman with wildfire in her eyes. He had learned that his lack of happiness had nothing to do with everything he had done. It was simply the fact that his happiness, his mate, had been lost in another world.

The world had a strange way of doing things, Azriel thought, but he wasn’t going to question it. One minute, you could be facing darkness and shadows and horrors beyond the imagination, and the next, you could fall through a portal and into the arms of the love of your life. 

The bedroom door opened, followed by the sound of your musical laughter. “I think this color suits me,” you said as you walked into the hallway. “I’ve always liked blue, especially dark blue. Like cobalt.”

Azriel pushed himself off the wall, his eyes wandering down your body. You were wearing a simple pair of black leggings and black ankle boots. You had donned a cobalt blue sweater, the same color as Azriel’s siphons. The material looked soft, and though it covered your body completely, it hugged your form in a way that made his head spin.

Elain chuckled softly, and Az pulled his attention away from you long enough to meet her gaze. She was raising a knowing brow at him, amusement twinkling in her brown eyes.

Had Rhys told everyone about you being Azriel’s mate?

“Thank you for helping me, Elain,” you said, placing a gentle hand on Elain’s arm. “And for buying me these clothes.”

“Don’t mention it. It was no trouble at all,” Elain responded. She turned on her heel and started down the hallway. “I’m going to check and see if they need any help in the kitchen.”

Alone in the dim hallway, Azriel took a step forward, his hand trailing down your arm. The material of the sweater was warm and soft under his palm. “You look lovely,” he murmured, his eyes lingering on the exposed skin of your neck. “I like seeing you in my color.”

You ran a finger over the siphon on his hand. “You said these are a way for you to channel your magic?”

Azriel nodded in response, unable to form words at the sight of your pulse. He longed to know what it would be like to have it under his lips. Your scent of warm vanilla and jasmine filled his nostrils, and he found himself leaning down, his mind clouded by want and need.

“Why is it blue?”

The innocence of your question pulled Az from his desire. Now was not the time to let his mind wander to those places. Hopefully, in the future when this whole mess with the unstable magic is dealt with, he will have all the time in the world to get the soft skin of your body under his lips. But for now, he needed to focus.

By the Cauldron, he still needed to tell you about the bond.

Azriel reluctantly pulled away from your warmth. “The color of the siphons depends on the color of the magic.” He shrugged, his hand laying atop yours on his siphon. “My magic is blue, so my siphon is blue.”

You raised your eyes to meet his, and he could see a wariness in your gaze. He could tell you were trying to hide it, but in the few days he had known you, he had learned to read your every expression. “Oh,” you said softly, pulling your hand away from his.

“Are you alright?” Az asked, placing his palm on your cheek. “If you don’t want to meet my family, we can-“

“No,” you said sternly, cutting him off. “I won’t get the answers I want by hiding away in that bedroom. I need to face this, even though I’m scared shitless right now.”

Azriel smiled softly, his thumb sweeping across your cheekbone. Your eyes fluttered closed as you leaned into his touch. “My brave fyrvor,” he murmured, leaning forward to press a quick kiss to your forehead. He pulled away and gestured down the hallway with a hand. He offered his arm to you as he asked, “Shall we?”

You looped your arms through his and followed him down the hallway. The wall was lined with paintings, all thanks to Feyre, and he watched as your eyes took in each one.

“Feyre painted those,” he said, gesturing to the walls. Some of them were of Nyx, and others were of Rhys and Nyx together. Az could see the paintings of the Illyrian mountains and Elain’s garden. He was always impressed at his High Lady’s talent. Meanwhile, he couldn’t even draw a straight line.

You hummed as you looked, a small smile blooming on your face. “When we were at Serena’s studio, you said you knew a better painter.” You looked at him then, your expression soft. “Were you talking about Feyre?”

Azriel smiled faintly as he thought back to that day. Had it really only been a few days ago? “Yes,” he said finally.

“You missed them a lot when you were in my world? Your family?” Your tone was full of gentle curiosity, your face searching his.

He nodded, the weight of those days away from his world pressing in. “I did,” he admitted. “More than I expected. I have never… fit in with my family. I’m different in many ways, so I’ve always felt like an outsider, even to them. But they’ve been my sanity through the centuries.”

Though they do drive me insane most of the time, he wanted to add but kept that to himself.  

“An outsider,” you mumbled, seemingly to yourself. You shivered, as if you were shaking off an unwanted thought. “I know what that’s like. To feel like you don’t belong.” Your voice was quiet as you confided in him. “I suppose I feel more so like an outsider now.”

The sudden graveness on your face startled him, so he trailed his hand down, lacing his fingers with yours. “Hey,” he said quietly. “Maybe we can feel like outsiders together?”

You smiled up at him, and he felt the tightness in his chest ease at the light in your eyes. “Yeah. We can make it a club or something. Give it a name to make it official?”

Azriel chuckled. Things felt so normal between the two of you, despite the dark could that hung over his shoulders. “I like the sound of that.”

The conversation died out as the two of you walked toward the dining room. Your eyes took in the interior of the River House, your mouth hanging open slightly as you looked at all of the expensive décor.

As he pulled you toward the dining room, the clatter of dishes and the soft murmurs of his family greeted him. His shadows swirled around his shoulders, telling him that Cassian was already seated and tearing into pieces of toast, while Rhys and Feyre exchanged quiet words at the head of the table. Nesta was there, too, apparently looking at Cassian with a rather disgusted look as she watched her mate eat like it was his last meal.

At the doorway, Azriel squeezed your hand, leaning down to whisper into your ear, “Are you ready, fyrvor?” Your hair tickled his nose as you turned to look at him, your eyes filled with determination.

“Yes. I’m ready.”

“Cassian.” Nesta’s sharp voice cut through the room over the clatter of plates. “At least use a napkin. You’re getting toast all over-“

Azriel stepped into the dining room, clearing his throat, not caring that he cut Nesta off. “Family,” he greeted, his hand tight in yours as he pulled you around his wings. “I would like everyone to meet Y/N.”

The room was silent, utterly silent. Cassian stopped his chewing, his mouth open as he looked at you with raised brows. Nesta’s eyes were sharp and calculating as she leaned back in her chair, a faint smile playing on her lips. Rhys was biting his lip, his hand protectively on Feyre’s shoulder, while Feyre was nervously twirling her fork in her hands.

Azriel swallowed against the tightness in his throat. He couldn’t think of anything to say to ease the tension, not knowing how to begin explaining all of this. He opened his mouth to say something, he didn’t know what, but was thankfully cut off as Elain entered the room, Lucien at her heels. They were both carrying plates of steaming food.

“Y/N! Azriel!” Elain greeted with a warm smile. “I was wondering when you two would make it here.” Leave it up to Elain to be the one to bring down the blade to cut the tension.

Feyre dropped her fork as stood, pushing Rhys’s hand off her shoulder as she did so. “Welcome to our home,” she said, raising her hands in welcome. “My name is Feyre. I’ve heard that you’ve already met Rhys, my mate.” She gestured to the other side of the table. “You’ve met Elain, but the female next to her is Nesta, my other sister. The male eating his body weight in toast is Cassian. The male sitting next to Elain is her mate, Lucien.”

Following the awkward introductions, everyone nodded once in greeting. Azriel could feel the nervousness radiating off of you, so he ran a calming hand down the center of your back. “It’s nice to meet all of you,” you said in a quiet voice, but Az could hear the steel behind it, a sign that though you were nervous, fear had no hold on you.

Feyre smiled, her face radiant. “Az has told us so much about you.”

“All good things I hope,” you said with a soft laugh.

Nesta drummed her fingers on the table. “If you consider being from another world, one completely different from this one, a good thing… then yes. All good things.”

Your smile faltered at Nesta’s tone, and Azriel fought the urge to snarl at Nesta for making you uncomfortable. But he knew that Nesta meant no harm by what she said. It was just how she talked to people who she didn’t know that well.

Still, Azriel glowered at Nesta, a quiet sign that he would not tolerate her sneering.

“Nesta,” Rhys drawled, his eyes moving between you and the female. “Maybe we should hear Y/N’s side of the story.” He managed to force a smile onto his pale face, and Azriel could see the dark circles under his eyes. When had his brother last gotten a good night’s rest?

Not since before you left, shadowsinger, his shadows answered him as they swirled around his shoulders and wings.

“Please. Have a seat,” Elain said, gesturing to two empty seats at the end of the table. Azriel noticed that the seats were farthest away from Rhys and Nesta, but they were closest to Elain and Lucien. “And dig in. The both of you look like you could use a hot meal.”

After the two of you had taken your seats, Azriel grabbed the nearest dish and spooned some of it onto your plate. Your fingers wrapped around his wrist, stopping him in his tracks.

“I can do it, Azzy,” you murmured, taking the spoon and bowl from his scarred hands.

Cassian chuckled, no doubt at the nickname you had given him. Az ground his teeth as he shot a glare at Cass, silently warning him to keep his mouth shut. His brother shrugged his shoulders and went back to eating his toast, not caring that his face was covered in jam.

“So,” Feyre said, picking up her fork. “Az tells us that you come from another world.”

You set down the bowl and took a deep breath. “Yes. I come from a place called Earth.” You reached for his hand under the table, and he returned your gesture with a soft squeeze, encouraging you. “I grew up in a place called New Orleans, Louisiana. I was a nurse, working at a hospital in the trauma department. My parents, they-“ Your voice trembled slightly, your eyes filling with tears. You looked down at your uneaten food, obviously trying to hide it from everyone’s prying eyes.  

Azriel’s heart broke at the sight of it. He knew, deep down, you had not had the time to deal with everything that had happened. Madja had said that you were more than likely still in shock from the whole ordeal. The healer had told him that he needed to be ready for when everything hit you, that he needed to prepare himself to weather the storm.

Azriel had told Madja not to worry about that. He would fight through the deepest, darkest pits of hell to make sure you didn’t have to bear that burden alone.

You continued on, your voice shaky but clear, “My mother was a teacher. My father was a mechanic. They raised me with so much love and kindness… My life was so simple, before all of this…”

Feyre nodded solemnly, her eyes shadowed. “Azriel told us about your parents. About what happened,” she said, her voice soft like silk. “We are very sorry about what you went through.” Her tone was genuine, and Az knew she was telling the truth.

His High Lady knew was it was like to suffer and watch someone you love die. All of them did.

“Thank you,” you whispered. You blinked the tears away, pulling your eyes back up to Feyre. “As much as it hurts, I know that none of that matters right now.”

“What do you mean?” Lucien asked, leaning forward in his chair. “Surely the loss of your parents should be at the forefront of your mind. None of us would blame you if you took the time to grieve for them.”

You turned your eyes to the male, your gaze lingering curiously on his mechanical eye. “I worded that wrong. It matters, yes, but I think more important matters are at hand right now. I will grieve when I find out the truth about this… mess. My parents are dead because of who, or what I am. That is what I am focused on.”

Rhys ran a finger along the edge of the table, his gaze nearly piercing as he looked at you. “And what exactly are you?”

You shrugged your shoulders nonchalantly at the High Lord, not caring that you were talking to the most powerful male in Prythian. Azriel wanted to laugh at the sight of it. “You know as much as I do. You were there when Madja said I wasn’t human, and that’s all I know.”

Rhys narrowed his eyes. “How can you not know that you’re not human?” His voice was almost a snarl, and it was enough to pull Az out of his silence.

“There is no magic where she’s from, Rhysand,” Azriel growled. “When I first met her, I was convinced she was human. Up until I saw her burst into flames, I thought she was human.” He planted his hands on the table, pushing himself out of his seat. He leaned over the table, his face twisted into a snarl. “So, believe me when I tell you, she doesn’t fucking know what she is.”

Cassian whistled. “Damn, brother,” he said, his voice full of amusement. “Why are you so on edge?”

Azriel snapped his head toward Cassian. The other male wiggled his eyebrows, a silent taunt for Az that said, Come and get me. Get it out of your system before you make a fool of yourself.

Az planted a foot on the ground, meaning to take Cass up on his silent offer, but a small hand wrapping around his wrist stopped him in his tracks. He turned his head, only to be met with your steady gaze. Just like that, his heart rate calmed, his breathing slowed.

Calm down, his shadows whispered. Our mate is scared.

“I think,” Nesta said, her voice echoing through the now-silent room, “that we all need to sit down and have a normal fucking conversation.” She looked at Cassian, Azriel, and then Rhys, her eyes as sharp as a dagger. “Can the three of you handle that?”

After a beat of silence, the three of them nodded. Azriel took his seat, Cassian went back to nibbling on toast, and Rhys leaned back in his chair.

“Good.” Nesta turned to you, her face warm and open, so unlike her usual demeanor. “Now, you said there was no magic where you are from. If that’s the case, how did Azriel show up in your world?”

You shook your head, your hand still tight on Azriel’s wrist. “I don’t know. He just… showed up one night.” You let out a sigh and ran a hand through your hair. “We tried to find answers while we were there, but we got nothing. We only met a weird artist and a lady who threw epic masquerades.”

Azriel paused. He had told his family about the bigger details, like falling through the portal and you going up in flames like a wildfire. But he hadn’t told them about Serena or Mama Laveau. Maybe his family knew something he didn’t?

“The artist,” Azriel said, his voice low. “Her name was Serena. She said she had dreams and visions of Prythian, and she painted them.” He turned his head toward Rhys. “She painted Velaris, Rhys. It looked like she had been here before, but she said she hadn’t.”

Elain spoke up, her voice soft. “Was she a seer?”

“I don’t think so,” Azriel responded. “She said she came from witches and warlocks, whatever that is. But yes, I think she was human.”

“And what about this woman who threw masquerade balls?” Rhys asked, his brows raised. If the fact that a woman from another world knew about Velaris bothered him, Rhys didn’t show it. “What about her?”

“Mama Laveau,” you said. “She was… strange. There was something about her that was different. Serena seemed odd, too, but this woman was..” You shivered slightly. Azriel hadn’t been aware that she had affected you that much.

But then again, the two of you hadn’t really had time to talk about that before everything went to shit.

“She mentioned something,” you continued on, turning your head to Azriel. Your brows were furrowed in confusion as you tried to recall what was said. “What was it she said, Azzy?”

Azriel swallowed, his mouth suddenly dry. “The World Walkers.” He turned to Cassian. “Do you remember Firewine?”

Cassian grimaced. “That shit that made me puke for two days? Yeah, I remember that stuff, even though I wish to forget it.”

Azriel pressed on, “She had some. She said she got it from a World Walker.” Az shook his head, his mind suddenly feeling clearer than it had in days. “There is no way she could have had that unless there was someone from Prythian who gave it to her.”

“What are World Walkers?” Lucien asked, his face twisted up in confusion, as well as something almost like fear. Azriel wondered if he sometimes regretted getting involved in the Night Court’s drama. “Did she ever explain what that is?”

“No,” you murmured. “She did not.” Your expression was one of defeat, and Azriel knew what you were feeling. You felt like the two of you had failed in trying to figure out why he landed on your doorstep. He felt the same way, but he couldn’t let himself dwell on that, not when so much was at stake right now.

“Hey,” he murmured to you, his voice low. “We got something, Y/N. We will figure out the rest. I promise.”

You offered him a smile that didn’t reach your eyes. “Okay.”

“We need to figure out the rest sooner rather than later,” Rhys said, standing up from his chair. “Things here are bad, Az. I know Cassian has told you some of it, but things are worse than you can imagine.”

“Then enlighten me,” Az snapped back, still on edge from earlier. He took a deep breath to calm himself. “I know I haven’t been present these last few days, but now that Y/N is awake, I’m all ears.”

Rhys glanced over to you, his eyes wary. “Perhaps we could talk about it in my office?”

“I think you should talk about it here,” Elain cut in. “Y/N lives here now, so she should know. There’s no point in hiding it from her.”

Azriel nodded his head toward Elain, silently thanking her for saying what was on his mind. Feyre glanced up at her mate. “Elain is right. She should know, Rhys.”

Rhys sighed. “Alright,” he grumbled as he sat back down. He raked a hand through his black hair, and Az noticed the slight tremble in it. “You know how all of this has affected us, especially our magic. I know Cass told you about the Illyrians. But it’s more than that.” Rhys took an unsteady breath. “The magic is… going away. There have been reports of the land dying. Creatures in the woods have been found, but the only thing left of them is their rotting corpses and the scent of something dark and wrong. Crime throughout the courts has risen. Riots have started. We’re on the brink of another war, Az, and we’re not on the winning side this time.”

Rhys’s words hung in the air like a dark cloud. Azriel felt his heart stutter in his chest, and his ears started to ring. A chill crept into his bones as he pondered what could be causing this. He had faced darkness in his life, more darkness than most people. He had fought in wars and seen the worst that life had to offer.

 Still, nothing in his centuries of living could compare to the fear he felt right now.

“The magic is going away?” Azriel asked, his voice almost a whisper. “How is that possible?”

Rhys shook his head. “We don’t know. It’s like someone, or something, is stealing it. That’s all we’ve been able to come up with.”

Azriel felt your body lock up beside him. “Mathias,” you hissed, your voice full of disgust.” He mentioned a queen. He said the queen had requested my presence.” You tightened your hold on his wrist. “Do you think that has to do with any of this?”

“There are no queens here, other than the Mortal Queens,” Azriel responded.

“The Mortal Queens wouldn’t do this.” Lucien’s voice was hard. He had spent much time with Vassa, so out of anyone, he would know if they were capable of something like this.

Feyre’s face paled. “Do you think Amarantha-“

Rhys growled lowly. “No. She is dead. You know that as well as I do, Feyre.”

“What if she had someone on her side? What if she had been planning this before she died?” Feyre asked biting her lip.

“Enough.” Cassian’s voice dripped with command. It was the voice he used only when he was trying to deal with the Illyrians who wouldn’t listen. “I will not sit here and listen to that bitch’s name be spoken in this house.” He glanced over to Rhys and Feyre. “Especially not by the two of you.”

Nesta cocked her head to the side, her eyes on your face. “Who is Mathias?”

“He was a man that moved in next door to my parents.” You swallowed. “And he was the one who killed them.”

“He wasn’t human,” Azriel said. “He appeared to be human, but he was glamoured. When he removed it, I felt his power. It wasn’t like anything I’ve ever experienced, other than what I felt in the Whispering Woods.”

“And he mentioned a queen who wants Y/N?” Elain asked, her eyes locked onto you. She had a strange look on her face, as if she could see something the rest of them couldn’t.

“Yes,” you mumbled. “He wanted to bring me back here, to Prythian.”

The room was filled with voices, all questions directed to you and Azriel. Why did he want you? Where did he go? How could you let him get away, Az?

Azriel was about to stand and yell at his family to shut the fuck up. He could see the stress on your face, the tears threatening to spill onto your cheeks. He needed to tell you more about his world before his family scared you so much that you decided to find the fastest way out of here.

He had just placed his hands on the table, pushing himself out of his seat, when Elain’s eyes went white, her expression going blank.

“She walks in the shadows of mountains. Her breath is death and decay. Her smile is sharper than any blade, and she is coming for what is hers.” Elain’s voice was no longer hers, carrying with it something dark and sinister.

Lucien reached over, placing his hand on his mate’s shoulder. “Elain,” he murmured. “What do you see?”

“Mountains. Snow. A throne. A sword.” Elain’s eyes refocused, her gaze still on you. “I see you, too, Y/N. She’s coming for you.”

You shuddered. “I don’t- I’m not-“ You started to tremble as you spoke, your eyes wide. “I’m just a girl from New Orleans! I’m nothing!”

Azriel pulled you into his arms, holding your shaking body against his. “You’re everything, fyrvor,” he whispered. “I won’t let her take you. Nothing will happen to you. Do you understand me?”

You pulled away, raising your face up to his. At that moment, the dining room and his family melted away. It was only you. You were the center of his being, his entire world. He could feel the bond in his chest, glowing so brightly that it almost took his breath away.

“You promise?” you asked in a small voice, so broken, so fragile.

He ran a hand down your cheek, savoring your warmth against his scarred flesh. “I promise.”

“Well,” Cassian drawled, “this is all very endearing. Really, it warms my heart. But we still know nothing about this queen, or what she wants with Y/N.”

Azriel forced himself back into reality, turning his head to face his family. Lucien was holding Elain, who was staring at her food. Rhys and Feyre were pale, eyes on each other, no doubt talking to each other with their minds. Nesta was the only one who seemed unphased by the whole situation.

“I’ve faced one evil queen,” she said with a shrug. “I think I can handle another one.” She smiled darkly, her eyes glancing over to Ataraxia where it leaned against the far wall.

“Azriel,” Rhys said. “Can you check in with your spies? See if they have heard of a queen amongst the courts?”

Azriel nodded numbly. He didn’t want to leave you, not now. But he still had a job to do, and he had to trust that his family would protect you while he was gone. “Yes. I can leave after breakfast.”

“Then it’s settled,” Nesta said, rising from her chair. She smiled at you, her eyes bright. “I’m assuming you want to know more about our world, Y/N. About magic and all of that. But tell me,” she said, leaning forward slightly, “have you ever heard of a Pegasus?”

---

The Pegasus, it seemed, was a rare creature here in Prythian. According to Nesta, it came from this place called “The Prison,” and the only remaining two in existence belonged to some guy named Helion.

“So, you’ve never seen one?” you asked Nesta. The two of you were sitting in the living room of the River House. The room was warm, smelling faintly of citrus and jasmine. After breakfast, everyone had gone their separate ways. Elain and Lucien had wandered into the gardens, Rhys to his office, and Feyre to her painting studio. Cassian went back to this place called the House of Wind, saying that he could not miss another day of training.

Only Nesta had stayed with you, choosing to keep you company in Azriel’s absence.

Nesta shook her head. “I’ve seen a miniature Pegasus, but never the real thing. My friends and I would be very happy to see one, to say the least.”

You hummed as you looked around the room, your eyes wandering as you took in everything around you. Rhys and Feyre were rich as hell, no doubt. You had never seen a house that was so well furnished. Somehow, though, it all looked cozy despite the grandeur of the place.

A part of you wanted to curl up in this chair and sleep for an eternity, hoping that you would wake up and this nightmare would be over. You knew that wouldn’t happen, no matter how much you wished for it. Whatever was happening in Prythian, whomever this queen was… It was your problem now, and sleeping wouldn’t solve it.

Your eyes caught a small object sitting on the floor next to the fireplace. It appeared to be a tiny sword, small enough that a child would be the one to play with it. “Is there a child here?” you asked Nesta, who was quietly sipping her tea.

“Yes,” she said. “Rhys and Feyre have a son named Nyx. He is here in the house, but he’s been napping all morning.” Her voice was tight, and you could tell she was lying.

“It’s alright, you know. You can tell me that Rhys and Feyre don’t trust me enough to bring their kid around. I get it.”

Nesta smiled sadly. She leaned forward and placed her tea on the small table next to her chair. “We’ve been through a lot these last few years. They will come around. Just give them time.”

Your eyes snapped to Nesta. There was something about this female that settled your nerves. You could tell she was powerful, that something different lurked beneath her skin, but it didn’t scare you. “Do you trust me?”

“I do.” Nesta crossed her legs, leaning back in her chair. “I don’t know you, but I can tell that what you say is the truth, about not knowing what you are. Besides,” she said, a smile forming on her face, “if Azriel trusts you, and that male trusts nobody, who am I to argue with that?”

The mention of Azriel caused your heart to clench. Immediately after breakfast, he had pressed a quick kiss to your forehead before leaving to meet with his spies, whatever that meant. You missed him, even though it had only been a few hours since he had left.

“When do you think he will be back?” you asked, forcing your voice to remain steady.

“I’m not sure,” Nesta said with a shrug. “Hopefully he doesn’t wander into another portal while he’s gone.”

Your chest tightened at the thought of Azriel leaving, an unsettling mix of fear and anxiety setting in you. The thought of him landing on another girl’s doorstep made you want to sob. “What if he doesn’t come back this time?” you whispered, the words slipping out before you could catch them.

“Azriel will come back, Y/N,” Nesta murmured, leaning forward to place a hand on your knee. Her touch was oddly comforting. “This is Azriel’s job. He’s Rhysand’s spymaster, and he needs to see what he can find out about this whole ordeal.”

You nodded, but the sinking feeling in your chest didn’t go away. The room was filled with silence after that, save for the sound of the wind softly howling against the windows. You looked toward the city- Velaris- the one Serena had painted. It was beautiful, to say the least. You could see the river winding through the city, and you could make out the forms of people as they walked, completely oblivious to whatever dark forces were at work here.

Your mind wandered to Azriel’s family. Feyre, Nesta, and Elain seemed nice enough, and Cassian reminded you of the gym-obsessed frat boys you had met during your college tours. Rhys seemed… on edge, but you couldn’t blame him. You would probably act the same way if your court and people were at risk. You hoped he would warm up to you eventually.

Lucien didn’t seem to fit in here, but you could tell he was attached to Elain, his mate. Wait. What the hell is a mate?

“Nesta?” You turned your attention back to the female, who was busy stirring her tea.

“Hmm?”

You bit your lip, annoyed that you had so many questions. You always hated being around those who asked questions constantly, but now you were one of them. “What is a mate?”

Nesta’s gaze snapped to yours, her eyes like the color of a raging sea. “A mate is like a husband or a wife, but it’s more than that. It’s more of a soul-bond.” She placed her hand on her chest, right over her heart. “You can feel it here, like a pull or a tug, connecting you to them.”

You furrowed your brows. “So, like soulmates?”

Nesta smiled as she nodded her head. “Yes. I suppose that’s a good comparison.”

Your mind worked, thinking back to the conversation at breakfast. Rhys and Feyre were mates, and so were Lucien and Elain. Nesta had Cassian, so that left only one…

“Does Azriel have a mate?” you blurted out, unable to stop yourself. The room suddenly felt smaller, the walls closing in at the thought of Azriel being bonded to someone else like that.

“No,” Nesta said, “he doesn’t.” There was a shadow over her face, though, and you had the sinking feeling that there was something she wasn’t telling you.

You wanted to press more, but your heart couldn’t take it. You remembered the kiss at the ball, the way Azriel’s hands had caressed and held you like a lifeline. You couldn’t bear the thought of another being the one to receive such affection from him.

“Why are you being so nice to me?” you asked, hoping she didn’t notice the sudden change in conversation. “Elain has been kind, but everyone else has been keeping their distance. Why?”

She ran a finger around the rim of her teacup, her eyes suddenly filling with sadness. “I was human once,” she said, her voice low. “So was Feyre and Elain. We were forced into this life a few years ago, when other dark forces were at work in Prythian. We dealt with it in our own ways, of course. Feyre had Rhys to help her, and Elain, after suffering through depression, found her own way. I, on the other hand, did not deal with it all that well.”

You looked at Nesta. She was clearly not human, fully Fae, with her pointed ears and longer limbs. “What did you do?”

“I nearly drank myself to death. I also slept with at least half the males in Velaris,” she said, but there was no shame in her voice. She spoke like a woman who had been to hell and back and had come out on the other side triumphant. “Cassian and my friends helped me through it. So did Azriel. They helped me discover that this life isn’t as bad as it seems.”

She leaned forward then, her eyes locked onto your face. “I’m being nice to you because I know what it’s like to have your world turned completely upside down. I know what it’s like to be one thing one day, only to wake up and be something else. I watched my father die before my eyes, and I watched the others move on as if nothing happened.” She tilted her head to the side, her eyes soft. “The only difference, I suppose, is that I grew up in Prythian, unlike you.”

You were at a loss for words, your throat closing up. “I’m… sorry. I had no idea. I-“

Nesta raised a hand. “I figured Azriel hadn’t gotten around to telling you about that yet, so don’t feel bad,” she said.

“Do you miss it?” you asked. “Being human?”

Nesta’s eyes softened as she thought for a moment. “Sometimes I do, but I’ve gotten used to being Fae. I’m able to fight now, and I have a badass sword. I have Cassian and my friends, so I can say that I don’t miss it as much as I used to. “

You smiled softly. “I hope I can say the same thing one day.”

“You will, especially if Az has anything to do with it,” she said with a sharp laugh. Suddenly, she stopped herself, clearing her throat as if she had said too much. “I do have a question. Azriel told me about what happened at your parents’ house, more than he told the others, I think. He said you grew wings and went up in flames, that you healed him. What do you remember about that?”

“Mathias had killed my parents, and he was trying to kill Azriel,” you said with a shrug. “I don’t know… I just felt so much anger and rage. I felt something like a flame inside of me, begging to be let out, to grow.” You looked at Nesta, your gaze as cold as ice. “So, I let it out, and it grew.”

Nesta pursed her lips. “Is that the flame that I see in your eyes? The one flickering like a small candle?”

Damn. Everyone could see it, then.

“Yes. I still feel it now,” you said, running a hand over your chest. “It’s stronger here, in Prythian. I don’t know what any of it means.”

“Hmm,” Nesta mused. “It must have been something, considered Az admitted it scared the shit out of him. Nothing scares that male, except for…” She trailed off, a small grin on her lips.

“Except for what?” You couldn’t imagine that Azriel, stoic and emotionless as he is, could be scared of something. 

Nesta ran a finger along the arm of her chair. “Except for me,” she said frankly. “I have a different power, too, Y/N. Az can tell you the details of it all. But you should know that I am willing to help you. So is Elain, Lucien, and Cassian, and of course Azriel.” She sighed softly. “Even Rhys and Feyre will help, though their attention will be more focused on the bigger threat in Prythian.  We can help you figure this out.”

For the first time since you arrived here, you felt a small flicker of hope bloom in your chest. Azriel’s family wasn’t all that bad, after all. You were thankful they were willing to offer their aid, despite the darkness surrounding their world.

You opened your mouth to express your gratitude, but you were cut off as the door to the living room opened, revealing the frame of a female you hadn’t met. She was incredibly beautiful, with a strong, curvy body that would send any male to his knees. She had brown eyes and flowing golden hair. She was wearing a pair of black pants paired with a silky red sweater threaded with gold.

She was easily the most beautiful female you had ever seen.

“I swear if I have to stay in that library for any longer today, I will lose my mind,” the female said as she gracefully glided into the room. She was rubbing her temples as if she had a throbbing headache. “It’s so dim in there. I don’t know how any of the priestesses see anything.”

Nesta gestured to the female, completely unbothered by her complaining. “Y/N, meet Morrigan.” She gestured to you with a hand. “Morrigan, meet Y/N.”

Morrigan pulled her hand away from her face as a beautiful smile bloomed on her full lips. “Oh! You’re Azriel’s Y/N!” she exclaimed. “I’ve been dying to meet you. But please, call me Mor.”

A part of you wondered just what had been said about you while you were unconscious. You weren’t Azriel’s anything, but you decided not to comment on it. “You weren’t at breakfast,” you said.

Mor sighed and took the extra seat between you and Nesta. “No. I was in the library trying to help Gwyn with her research about this whole mess.”

You wanted to ask who Gwyn was, but Nesta said, “Did you find anything? She said she had been researching ancient spells that could have something to do with the magic going away.”

Mor shook her head, causing long, blonde waves to fall over her shoulder. “No luck with that,” she said. “But we did find something strange. You know the map of Prythian that hangs on the wall next to Gwyn’s desk? You know, the small one that has been the same for thousands of years?”

Nesta nodded slowly, her eyes wary. “Yes. Gwyn said it had been there since before the library was even built. What about it?”

Mor reached into her back pocket and pulled out a rolled-up piece of paper. With long fingers, she unrolled it, laying it on the small table at the center of the chairs. “That,” she said, pointing to a spot at the top of the map, “was not there three days ago.”

You leaned forward in the chair, inspecting the map. It looked oddly like the maps you had seen of Europe, but it was outlined differently. You saw an island to the right of the mainland named Hybern. As your eyes scanned the paper, you saw the Mortal Lands, all of the courts. The court at the top was the Night Court, where you were now. Above that, you saw a mountain range called the Illyrian Mountains.

Mor’s finger was hovering over a black spot at the center of the mountain range. “In the centuries I have looked at maps of Prythian, I have never seen anything in the middle of those mountains.”

“What mountains?” came a deep voice from the doorway. Azriel stood there, his wings tucked in, those beautiful shadows swirling lazily around his body. One of the shadows darted out, moving over to you.

You smiled down at it as it wrapped itself around your wrist. “Hello to you, too,” you whispered to it.

Mor looked back at Azriel, her finger still on the map. “Az,” she greeted. “It seems we’ve had a recent change of geography in Prythian.”

Azriel walked into the room, looking every bit like a dark prince from a storybook. Your heart lurched as he bent down and pressed a kiss to your forehead. “What do you mean, Mor?” he asked, but his attention was still on you.

“Look at this.” Mor pulled the map from the table, offering it to Az. “Look at the Illyrian Mountains.”

He kept his eyes on you as he took the map from Mor. He smiled at you as he looked down to study it, his brows creasing. “It looks like the mountains,” he said. “The same frozen wasteland that’s always there.”

Mor rolled her eyes. “No, you idiot.” She sat up and put her finger on the black dot. “There. That isn’t normally there.”

“Perhaps you got ink on it?” he said with a shrug, handing the paper back to Mor. “Nothing looks amiss to me. Then again, I try not to look at those mountains unless I have to.”

From the other chair, Nesta chuckled, her shoulders shaking as she tried to contain her laughter.

“Whatever,” Mor groaned, throwing up her hands. “I’m still going to take it to Rhys. Even if it is just an ink stain, he’ll need to get Gwyn a new map.” Mor stood and made for the door, stopping once she got to the threshold. She turned around, her eyes on you and Azriel. She had a soft expression on her face, like she was looking at something that brought her great happiness. “Hey, Nesta. Elain wanted me to ask if you could help her with something in the kitchen.”

Nesta glanced over to the blond female as she settled herself back onto the chair. “Right now?”

Mor nodded, her eyes as hard as granite. “Right now.”

“Fine,” Nesta mumbled, standing up and walking over to Mor. Her green dress swayed around her body as she walked, making her look regal. While Az looked like a dark prince from a fairytale, Nesta looked like a queen.

Once they were in the hallway, you heard Nesta say, “Just when things were getting good, too.”

Mor laughed. “Do you think he will tell her?”

Tell me what? You strained your ears to listen to the rest of their conversation, but you were distracted by Azriel as he placed his hands on your hips, pulling you into a hug. You melted into him, breathing in his scent, letting his warmth thaw out the chill that had settled into your bones.

“You’re back,” you mumbled into his leathers, your words barely understandable. “Find out anything?”

Azriel squeezed you once before pulling away, moving his hand up to cup your chin. “No,” he murmured. “My spies have been blinded. They haven’t heard of anything strange going on. At least nothing that we didn’t know already.”

You felt your heart sink at his words. You had hoped that he could find out something. “Back to the drawing board, then?”

“Mm hm,” Az said, moving his head down. As his lips pressed against yours, the world melted away. There was no horror or pain or darkness. There was only this moment with him, only his soft lips touching yours.

As the kiss started to grow, Azriel pulled away. You wanted to cry out in protest, but he placed a finger on your lips. “Are you tired?” he asked, his voice low.

You were tired, but you had been sleeping for days. You knew that you would be haunted by strange dreams if you went back to sleep, and you needed to do something, anything, to take your mind off things.

“Not really,” you admitted, smiling up at him, hoping he would believe you.

He returned your smile, his lips still swollen from kissing. “Good. I was wondering if you wanted to go out tonight. I know things are… strange right now. But I want to try and make things normal for you. As much as I can anyway.”

You blinked at him, your chest filling with emotion. “What do you have in mind?” you asked, wrapping your arms around his slim waist.

He unfurled his wings slightly. “How do you feel about flying?”

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[peachyloveswriting]

What would Vash, Wolfwood, and Knives do about sick reader? Like reader knew they had been getting sick for a few days but saying stuff like "I sneezed from the dusty sand" or "I choked on my spit. I wasn't coughing. " they keep coming up with stuff to say till they have a fever and collapse.

YES. MORE FOR KNIVES. I actually really enjoy writing for knives. He's such a complicated character to get right because he hates humans and more often than not the reader is portrayed as human. His feelings are so contradictory but I love it.

You're Only Human (After all)

SUMMARY: Vash, Wolfwood, and Naï, find out that you've been hiding a sickness from them. The outcome feels like a nightmare come true.

NOTES: Vash and knives parts are very long. There's a shit ton of angst but there's also hurt/comfort. I'd say it took me 16 hrs total from start to finish and that's partially because a huge part of Kives original part got deleted and yeah... I couldn't remember some of it. Enjoy tho lol.

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Vash

Setting up camp for the night was no easy task, getting up to gather what everyone needs to sleep comfortably while helping Meryl set up her own tent. Yours always comes last and before you can even finish Roberto is asking you to help him cook. You never stop working and seize every opportunity to stay on your feet, the restlessness that comes with stagnancy kills you. Through constantly throwing yourself into work is painful and tiring, it's been even more so than usual.

"Hey kid. Come and help with this roast."

You ignore Roberto's request, too tired to even think straight much less give a coherent thought, only curling further into the backseat of the truck. In the back of your throat has settled an itch, one that's not quite there but prominent enough to make you force down a cough. It bubbles up suddenly, making you gasp for air in-between coughs. Your throat burns in pain and tenses as it stops.

Soft foot steps pad up to the open door. Meryl peeks in at you with worry before she fixes herself right. "Uh... Sorry if I'm bothering you but could you help me with my tent again?" She clasps her hands together, eagerly waiting for your answer.

Nick watches from the outside of his own tent, gazing at your still form while his hands blindly settle the cross firmly into the sand. He doesn't decide to speak until Meryl extends a hand to tap you. "I'll do it." He offers.

Meryl turns to look at him with a disgruntled smile. "Thanks?" He scoffs. "Yup. Don't mention it. And close the door while you're at it."

Meryl looks at your limp form, not wanting to close any limbs in the door she checks just to be sure before she carefully closes the door. Just before walking away she takes one last peek inside to see if she disturbed you but you haven't moved an inch. Taking a deep breath she turns to stand beside Nick while he puts her tent together.

The night carried on and with it came Vash. To everyone else the night went on as usual but to Vash, a part of him was missing. When he looked for your tent he was sad to find that it hadn't been set up at all. This only worried the blonde further. His stomach would churn with unease the further he looked around. There was no sign on you anywhere. Just as he was about to peek around the truck, a soft finger tapped his shoulder. He turned to find Meryl gazing up at him.

"If you're looking for them..." She points to the truck. "They've been there all evening."

Hia gaze follows her pointed finger to the backseat of the truck. Offering her thanks, he rushes over to the truck and pulls open the door. You lay curled up on the farthest side away from him, your face hidden and tucked away in your arms. Face softening, Vash climbs into the empty space by your feel and closes the door behind him, ensuring privacy.

"Mayfly?" He leans over curiously, his hand slipping under your chin to lift your face into view. You grimace, your head swimming in agony and dizziness. "Are you okay?" His cries crease in concern.

Lazily, you lift a hand to swat him away. Setting your head back on your arms he lifts the back of his hand to your forehead. "You feel hot. Maybe you should get out of the car. Get some fresh air." His hand brushes over your head in a soothing manner.

"I'm fine." He smiles at your half-hearted grumble.

"If you say so..." Swiftly grabbing your shoulder, Vash scoops you up into his arms with ease and scoots to press his back to the door. He spreads his legs and leans back just enough for you to lay comfortably on his chest. You're just lethargic enough that you flop against him, no resistance whatsoever.

He stayed with you until the morning, upset when he kept waking up to you practicing choking in your sleep. Every time he raises a hand to your forehead it burns his skin. You were certainly running a fever of some kind or at the very least sick, he's never seen you so lethargic before. You've always stayed on your feet, working yourself to the brink, till' your legs won't carry you anymore. This might just be one of those spells but you never left the truck. Even when he got out to help everyone pack up you didn't move.

When everyone gathered inside the truck, you didn't move, allowing yourself to get shoved around to make room for Wolfwood and Vash. As Vash climbed in, he scowled at the priest who shoved you about as if you were some object he could just discard. Gently scooping you far enough to slide in. he laid you back down in his lap and held you close, allowing you to get some rather comfortable rest. Hours later, you woke up in a daze. The heat consuming you from head to toe is unbearable, breathing comes harshly.

You can see legs moving through the sand below you as you wake up but very quickly realize they're not yours. You begin to feel hands under each of your knees and your body pressed against another. Below you, Vash's coat flaps into view, the edges of it tugging about with each step.

You groan, dizzy from the heat and disoriented. Your head is reeling about, begging to go back to sleep and crying at the same time. Every part of you aches and your throat feels like it's been grated like fine cheese.

"You're awake!" Vash turns his head to look at you nuzzled into his shoulder. Swallowing harshly, you lift your head to glance at him. "Where are we?"

You cringe at the sound of your own voice, sounding like a decrepit frog that smokes cigarettes. It feels like you haven't drank in forever and your stomach rumbles angrily. Suddenly Vash jumps to keep you up on his back, you whine at the sudden jolt and dig your hands into the chest of his shirt. He grimaces at your painful response.

"You okay?" Forcing yourself to right yourself, you begin to wriggle in his hold. "M' fine. Put me down."

Vash's brows creased with worry. "Are you sure? You've-"

Pushing from his hold you fall into the scorching sands. Hissing in pain, you jump to your feet jostling your brain into a wave of vertigo. Your hand shoots out to find purchase while your vision grows dark. Tingles flood your body as a low dull pain pulses in your head. Two arms scoop you up into security, keeping you from falling back into the hot sands. "Whoa!"

Vash steadies you as you lean against him limply for help. "Slow down. You're not well." His hands move to your shoulders. A long drawn out couch slips from your lips. You shake away from his hole to walk towards the group, they're way ahead of you occasionally glancing back to stop and wait. "I'm fine."

You trudge forward at your own discretion and Vash follows closely behind. "Let me carry you Mayfly." A hand comes to rest at the small of your back. Beneath you, your legs shake horribly, threatening to lose your balance. It's hard just to push forward in the sand without wincing from the sore ache that settles into your bones. "I'll be fine, Vash."

The desert becomes distant, a cold covering your whole body like ice. "I'm..." The sky began to darken, blotting out the light from the suns and the sand beneath you.

"oh!" Slipping forward, Vash stretches an arm over your chest to stop your falling body from collapsing in the sand. The over exertion is obvious and your body makes it hard to deny. Vash can see it clearly, the bleary look in your eyes as he scoops your bridal style in his arms. Gazing down at you with an unreadable expression, he shakes his head. "How long has this been going on?"

You roll your head into his chest, shielding your eyes from the suns. Breathing in to speak you choke out a cough, you can hardly catch a breath in-between. When you finish, your head falls back softly. "A few weeks ago." You mumble weakly.

A frown settles upon his lips as he looks ahead at the horizon, the glare on his shades stops you from seeing his eyes. Those are always a dead give away for how he's feeling. Those shades work wonders for him.

Taking a shaky breath, you relax in Vash's arms. "Don't worry. I'll take you to a doctor. You should rest until then."

You shake your head. "Won't you get tired of carrying me?"

He looks back down at you smiling softly. The smile reaches up to his eyes, softening his gaze and wrinkling the corners of his eyes. "I will. It's okay, I'm supposed to take care of you Mayfly. Just rest." His voice is so soft he's almost whispering. It makes a heat swirl in your chest as you close your eyes.

"I'm sorry Vash."

He chuckles. "It's alright my love."

Wolfwood

Sweat beads along your forehead as you follow the giant wandering cross in front of you. Your wavering pace slows you down even more the longer you push forward. It's so far away now. When was the last time you even had water? God, you can't remember. Trudging through the sands makes the ache in your already sore leg grow worse, you can barely lift your feet from the ground.

Breathing is a labor, it burns your lungs with each breath you take, the longer you go without calling for Nick's help the more dire this starts to become. The dull ache in your head is pounding with the intensity of the suns and your body grows weaker. You regret lying to Nick before he ran out of gas, you knew them you should have said something but the situation was bad enough. You thought saying something then would only cause more worry to settle in Nick's mind and you didn't want to burden him.

Suddenly, searing hot pain blossoms on your exposed skin and sand hugs your body as it lands. Your mind is foggy and blank, you watch Nick grow smaller in the distance not even bothering to look back at you. You rasp his name but your throat doesn't allow you to call any louder than a simple talking tone. After traveling with Nick everywhere, you never thought it would end like this, laying in the sand pathetically sick because of your irrational fear and Inability to ask for help.

Suddenly, in the distance. The space between you and Nick closes in. He runs towards you, tossing the cross all about on his back. Distantly you can hear him call your name for the first time ever, he's only ever called you by silly nicknames. You don't give much care to mutter a response and sink into the sand.

Panic squeezes in Nick's chest and he drops his cross beside him to tend to you. Grabbing your shoulders he turns you over and sits you up in his lap. "C'mon. Don't fall asleep." He begs.

You cough up a laugh. The concern in his face grows even more severe with your seeming obliviousness to the situation. "I'm fine..." You want to shrug him off so bad but even moving feels like hell.

Heart pounding in his chest, Nick swallows harshly "You haven't been fine since we got stranded, have you?" The back of his hand feels freezing as he presses it to your forehead. You grimace with discomfort and whine. "I'm not stupid." Carefully, he stands with you in his arms.

As he turns to walk away you spot his cross on the ground. "Your cross..." Nick acknowledges it with a hum. His face is stern, pointedly staring straight again with his lips pressed into a thin line. "I'll get it back later. You need medical attention first."

You smile. "So you're saying you care?"

His grip on you begins to tighten. *Of course I do! Don't fucking scare me like that again." He growls.

"Sure." Sleep tugs your eyes closed, pulling at your weight the less conscious you become. Nick glares down at you, squeezing you tighter against him. He feels your body grow limp in his arms, heart dropping to his stomach.

"What did I say? Don't fall asleep." You're jostled awake with a groan. "Just let me sleep. Please."

"And if you don't wake up again?" He's become eerily nonchalant. "What then?" The edge in his voice shakes with worry, tracing the thoughts of what might unfold after your death. His chest aches at the thought of losing you and he won't say it but he's scared of losing you. "It'll kill me..."

Nick will never admit it but you do more for him then he lets on. Your company alone could last him a lifetime, your smile, it could make him happy forever. Everything about you fixes everything bad about him and he's not ready to give that up. Especially not over some silly illness. Hearing his words and understanding what he means, you coo quietly and rest your hand over his heart. Your touch quells his fraying nerves.

"I drag you down Nico." Your heart weighs heavy in your chest. "It might be better if you leave me behind."

Stomach clenching wearily, Nick grunts. "No." Venoms laces his tongue. "You idiot. I love you too much to do that." You gaze at him in surprise. "Don't look at me like that. I said what I said. You should just be quiet and conserve your energy."

Hesitant, you gaze at him for a few moments longer before letting your head rest carefully against his chest. "I'll get you help. Just hang in there."

Millions Knives

Sitting beside Naï, he plays the piano. Quietly, you watch his fingers dance over the keys as they belt out a dramatic yet familiar melody. It strikes the soul as misunderstood, you know it well. Many times has Naï played this song in your presence. You've heard everything he plays, as his words command you stay by his side under his watchful eye. Many of his followers take this as a sign of mistrust, a show that the human race will never take his attention. Naï has said to you before: "Hear me and believe my word. My trust in you is not misguided, I only wish to protect you from those who wish to harm you."

Despite hating humans, Naï knows his fair share about the ways they operate. He understands the delicacy of your body and handles it with immense measure and meticulous care. He keeps you near to prevent his followers from making a move to take your life. For him, he even strives to understand more about you, to protect you. His care for you and your well-being runs deep, although Naï doesn't quite understand why it's you he's so careful about, he understands that you make him feel something.

Naï, even in his own strange way, shows that he cares for you. He appreciates the company you keep him and he's not foreign with thanking you. Just the same your appreciation runs deep, he offers you friendship, safety, food, and a place to lay your head at night. Above all else, his friendship and company you find the most rewarding, to know so much about him is to see under his facade. Knowing that underneath all of those sharp blades, a gentle, and caring man resides. Only sparing himself to his closet confidants.

Beautifully, the keys fade into an epilogue, an ending to the story it once opened with. You find that as you watch with a smile your lungs begin to burn. A cough tries to bubble its way past your lips, it takes your breath away and chokes you on the way out. Turning away to cover your mouth, you find it hard to catch your breath and tears blur your vision. The melody that had once carried through the room now falls silent in the stead of your sputtering.

Worry tingles in Naï's chest as you gasp for air beside him, he's unsure of what to do or what this is. His knowledge might be expansive but he still has so much to learn, about sickness, potential threats, the many causes of death. His lack of awareness makes his heart quell with concern and his mind reel is fear.

"Are you alright?" His voice carries through the harmonious room. Tentatively his hand hovers over your back.

You wipe the tears from your eyes to see his angelic face clearly. "It's okay Naï, just choked on my spit."

Cautiously, he looks you over with care checking for abnormalities along your external appearance. Your eyes are dark and lightly sunken, despite noticing this fast Naï goes along with your word and nods in earnest. You feel scrutinized under his gaze, like he's judging every part of you without ever saying a word.

"Choked?" He queries. "Is this choking, dangerous?" His brows crease with worry.

"Well..." Recalling gasping for air, the onslaught of coughing as it keeps you from breathing in deep enough to catch your breath makes you choose your next words with ease. "Yes. It can be, depending on the circumstances. But it can also be prevented"

Intensely focused, Naï nods. "How can this be prevented?" His absolute attention is always divulged onto you anytime you talk, it's endearing, the way he listens to every detail. Nothing you've said has ever been forgotten by him, he remembers everything, making it a point to bring it up when useful later on. It tells you that he cares about what you have to say, knowing that makes your heart soar.

"Drinking a glass of water, or anything of likeness, then there's the heimlich. You should ask Con'rad about that if you want to understand it." Although many of the things that Naï knows about humans have been acquired through you, there are many things you can't find the energy to explain. Best someone else with more knowledge explains it to avoid any confusion.

"I'll go visit him then." Naï stands. "Come. I'll escort you to the room." Gently, you hold his outstretched hand, letting it guide you to your feet. He holds it gingerly as he pulls you alongside him. His hand is soft and warm, inhumanely so, you find comfort in his warmth.

The more time chugs along the more you begin to realize you've fallen I'll, coughing spells out of nowhere, extreme fatigue, loss of appetite. The coughing grows worse with intensity, burning your sore throat, your body wastes energy faster, and waking up in the morning becomes a difficult task. For longer times you would lay in bed seeking the comfort of your companion, Naï, despite hiding your growing illness from him. He's buying into what you told him, though it won't last for very long. If he's really that worried he'll seek the knowledge of Con'rad once again.

He knows your habits even down to the smallest details, including your sleep schedule. Though sleep is the only time he lets you spend alone, that's only in his room, the only ones allowed inside are you and him. As far as his knowledge goes, since you last went in about a day ago, no one has bothered to enter. Not even Naï himself would go to see you. He figured you only needed a little alone time before you might come out again to grace him with your company. The time rolled around for you to come out but the door never opened, Naï waited in anticipation, trying to stace off the minutes to spare you time.

The paranoia got to him before you could.

The whole time you've been inside he's only let the door out of his sight once, for only a short amount of time. Very few people would dare enter knowing what punishment would await them if he ever found out but just the thought of someone going in and hurting you... It makes his blood boil. He paces just outside with worry and frustration beginning to build just beneath the surface. He has to know you're okay, he has to hear you speak... No. No, he needs something more... He has to see you physically. Otherwise, he might just lose his mind wondering what awaits him inside.

Eager to finally see your face again, to hear your voice and feel your touch, he pushes the door open. Eyes scouring the darkness for your form he finally spots you laying still beneath the covers of his bed, you make no sound as the door closes and you stay still even as he says your name. In his chest, his heart begins to pound wildly, sending the rest of his body into a frenzy of feelings.

He rushes to the bedside, a singular blade extending to turn the lights on. The darkness cowers away at the flick of a switch and your form is revealed amongst his mattress. Almost stripped bare of your clothes you lay unmoving, almost as if the life from inside you has been drained. Chest straining, Naï climbs over top of your body lowering his head to your chest, your skin feels cold against his ear as he listens for a heartbeat.

Just underneath your delicate skin beats the rhythm of your life, it beats on even as you lay utterly still. Naï can feel his shoulders relax, the sound of your heart telling him that you're indeed still alive, but as he pulls away to further examine you he knows something's not quite right. it makes his stomach churn with unease. Your skin tone seems off, like something's not quite the same as it was before.

As softly as he can, Naï shakes your body. After the first movement he expects you to come to life with a groan but you don't move. If your heart is still beating, why won't you wake up?

"My flower, wake up. You've slept long enough. I need your company by my side." He shakes you harder this time. "Petal, wake up. I demand it." He tries to sound like he normally does when addressing everyone else but he can't seem to find it in himself to truly yell at you, to demand something of you. Especially not when you're stripped of your freedom at this moment.

Naï's throat tightens, his brows creasing with worry and fear. He's so confused, you usually wake up when he calls for you but now he's got nothing. It scares him, knowing just how fragile you really are, it aside now that he rushes you to Con'rad.

Before he parts to the lab, he envelopes your exposed body in his cloak and carries you in his arms. Nothing like this takes more than the blink of an eye, Con'rad barely even has time to process his master's sudden appearance. Everything is thrust at him at once, the fear and confusion that riddles Naï's face when he presents you to Con'rad, how he begs for him to find out what's wrong, to fix you.

Con'rad frowns at your unconscious body as he takes you from his master's arms. "Careful! Don't hurt them." Naï warns.

Con'rad can only cast him a glance before he sets you down on a table, he collects his supplies needed to check you over and watches as Naï retracts the cloak that is wrapped so tightly around your body.

To plants, a decade is only supposed to feel like a day. So why did Naï feel like it had already been years when it was only minutes. He stared at you intently, waiting for you to wake up, willing you to do something. But you didn't move at all. Naï was anxious from tip to bottom, so to quell his nerves Con'rad began explaining things to him.

"Like we discussed, humans are susceptible to many things, illness being one of them. Should a person go an extended amount of time without medication or medical attention, it can cause death. This happens to be the case with your friend. You're lucky you found them when you did Knives. I can still run this IV to get the right fluids in check. After, you can take them back to your room, the IV has to stay in until it's empty though." He eyes the bleach blond from the corner of his eyes as he tapes the IV to your arm. "Again. You're lucky. They should recover soon. But they'll need plenty of rest."

Naï steps away from the wall he had leaned on, the blades slither out from behind his back and circle you carefully until they meld into his cloak once more. Content, he carefully picks you from the table with ease, using another metal appendage to grasp the IV bag.

"Thank you." Naï bows his head to Con'rad in thanks. Before he can reply Naï is gone again just as fast as he appeared.

Returning back to the privacy of his room, Naï gently sets you at the edge of the bed where he could rest the IV bag beside you. Leaving you swaddled in his cloak, Naï climbs up the bed behind you. For a moment he's hesitant to touch you, like it's the wrong thing to do but he pushes forward. Softly laying an arm over your waist, he pulls you flush against him, his face tucked into the back of your neck. He would lay here until you woke, until then, Naï would relish in the feeling of your body against his and find comfort in your presence by his side.

He might lecture you when you wake up, or inspect you thoroughly for any other sickness, but he also might enjoy your waking company for a moment before he does anything else.

[disneyprincemuke]

i got the best friends * fem!driver

they have a birthday tradition that stemmed from her efforts to make sure that they were homesick spending their birthdays so far from home

pairings: logan sargeant x fem!driver, oscar piastri x fem!driver

notes: hi i have another update are you ready are you ready bc i am not

(series masterlist) | (📂 the rookie season)

-> april 6 2023

the bed dips, oscar groaning as he nuzzles his face into his pillow. “no.”

“yes!” a shriek fills his once silent room as the other side of the bed dips once more. “happy birthday, oscar jack piastri!”

he groans, “not the full name!”

“oh, good morning, you guys,” he hears lily say, feeling her starting to pull the blankets off her body. “oh, pancakes! if oscar doesn’t want them, can i have them?”

“i made you your own pancakes!”

“how is that supposed to make me feel special on my birthday?” oscar finally sits up, resisting the urge to roll his eyes at the sight of his best friends kneeling between his and lily’s body. “why does she get pancakes too?”

the girl, facing him slightly blinks at him blankly. “because i made the pancakes.”

oscar tilts his head, moving his focus to logan who’s also holding a plate of pancakes. logan shakes his head, “i made them — she forced me to make another batch for lily.”

“okay, enough yapping,” the girl waves them off.

on her plate is a stack of 3 pancakes with a lit orange candle stuck on the top. it’s a yearly tradition that started when he turned 14, oscar waking up to pancakes on the morning of his birthday spent in her household.

she had made an attempt at cooking pancakes only once in her life: the morning of oscar’s 14th birthday in 2015, claiming that she didn’t want him to feel homesick spending the day with a family he’s not even related to. it wasn’t a good attempt because logan took over the minute she got eggshells in the batter they were making together.

they ate pancakes that morning before they left to spend the day outside to celebrate oscar’s birthday.

and it’s been a tradition ever since for anybody’s birthday.

“happy birthday, osc!” she grins, holding the plate towards him. “make a wish.”

he takes a deep breath, catching lily’s stare as she sits next to the girl on the bed, then he blows away on the flame. “what are we doing today?”

logan shrugs, taking a spot next to lily on the bed with his plate of pancakes to distribute to everyone else. “she suggested karting at this track nearby.”

“or,” she points out, reaching out to logan’s plate to get herself a pancake, “i reckon we can stay home and watch movies and play mario kart.” she turns to oscar with her lips pressed together. “unless you made plans with lily.”

lily perks up and shakes her head. “god, no! we didn’t make plans!”

“wow,” logan mutters, turning to look at oscar. “can you believe her?”

“no, it’s not like that, of course!” lily shrieks, cheeks flushing as she waves her hands in the air to dismiss logan’s accusations. “i just know that you guys like spending the day together on your birthdays. besides, we celebrated yesterday.”

oscar hums, nodding his head as he starts to devour his own set of pancakes. “yeah, we’ve been doing that for years so that you don’t interrupt us doing couple stuff.”

“maybe oscar’s the one who hates us, dude,” logan mutters, looking down momentarily to sell his emotions. “i wouldn’t be shocked if that were the truth.”

the girl plops herself at the foot of the bed, sighing loudly. “what do you suppose we should do today, birthday kid?”

-> december 1 2023

she feels her body being shaken, slowly pulling her out of her sleep. she lifts her head from her pillow slightly and takes a peek with one eye open. “logan? what time is it?”

“midnight,” logan whispers, his face slightly illuminated by the flame from the small candle in his hands. “oscar and lily are dead asleep right now.”

“i would hope so,” she whispers, moving slightly to sit up properly. “it’s midnight — you made pancakes at midnight?”

he shakes his head, moving slightly and holding something out to her. “i got you a cupcake. oscar and lily said they’d make the pancakes as per usual tomorrow morning.”

she tilts her head. “why–”

“could you make a wish and blow the candle out first before you have to eat a cupcake with candle wax as a topping?” logan rambles, watching the candle intensely.

for some reason, they don’t own a lighter in their apartment, so he had to venture back to the kitchen stove for a fire source to get the candle lit and walk back to her bedroom. waking her up was the hardest part — she jumps up when woken up abruptly and seeing that he’s holding a cupcake with a flame on it, that wasn’t the best outcome.

she nods hurriedly, leaning forward to blow the candle out in a swift motion. the flame is extinguished and leaves them in the dark and silence of her bedroom. she reaches over to her bedside table, turning on her lamp to finally catch a look at logan’s flushed cheeks and droopy eyes from his tiredness.

“so what’s the cupcake for again?” she whispers, moving up and patting the empty spot on the other side of her bed. she takes the cupcake into her hands when logan crawls over to the empty spot. “thank you though.”

logan shrugs, tucking himself under her blankets with her. “felt like you needed an extra cupcake for your 21st birthday.” he puts his hands on his lap and turns to her with a grin. “happy birthday — you’re officially an adult everywhere now.”

she grins, “thank you.”

-> december 31 2023

“happy new year’s eve!” she throws her hands in the air, hair up in a ponytail as she approaches logan.

logan perks up, walking away from his once fruitful conversation with his brother. he throws his arms around her smaller frame, tightening his arms around her. “you made it!”

“of course,” she snorts, pulling away and taking a step back. “and, duh, it’s my best friend’s birthday!”

typically, she spends new year’s eve back in europe with her family. but she’s got team commitments in new york right as the year starts and it was easier — and cheaper — to travel from miami than it was to come straight from home.

“pancakes?”

“i made them!” she grins as logan slings an arm around her shoulders, walking towards the building. “i set them in the room your mother brought me to, though. you don’t mind if i pull you away from the party for a while, right?”

“i’m sure dalton doesn’t mind.”

“oh, my gosh! i forgot to say hi to dalton!”

she tries to spin out of his arms, but the younger brother of the two only reels her back into their walk towards the house. “you can say hi later. it’s my birthday, remember? birthday pancakes first.”

“right.”

they spend the walk up to the spare guest bedroom talking and giggling over the happenings of her flight to miami. surprisingly, it had gone well; well enough for her to be convinced that flying alone isn’t too bad of an ordeal.

she opens the door to the bedroom logan’s mother had prepared for her, neatly prepped and carefully catered to the younger girl. on the table in one corner of the bedroom is the pancakes that she promised with a candle lying stray on the table with a lighter next to it.

“wait, did you say you made this?” logan hums, lifting an eyebrow. “is it safe to eat?”

“so i didn’t make it,” she sighs, rolling her eyes. “i didn’t have the time and you’ve said multiple times that pancakes aren’t as good when they’re cold. i bought them before i drove down here to your parents’ house.”

logan puts a hand over his chest. “aw, how sweet! you went out of your way for me?”

she lights up the candle and pokes it into the top pancake. “don’t act surprised. we’ve done this for one another forever.” she turns around and grins as logan approaches her slowly, lifting the plate. “happy birthday, logan.”

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