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taliaarchive · 4 hours ago

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Greed on the Grid

☆ pairing. Lando Norris x Reader x Oscar Piastri

☆ word count. 4.7k

☆ dedication. This is for the girls who still believe in soulmates- especially the kind found in the blur of a race car, beneath a helmet, or behind a quiet smile in the paddock. Maybe he’s wrapped in adrenaline and fireproof fabric. Maybe he’s Australian. Maybe his name is Oscar Piastri. This one’s for you. May you never stop believing that love- real, fierce, forever love- can find you exactly where you are.

☆ talia notes. Also, yes- look, I may have done extensive research on the bougiest, most luxurious, most outrageously expensive outfits for this story. But honestly, can you blame me? God forbid a girl likes fashion. If you want to see the whole wardrobe, it's all down below. Anyways, I hope you enjoy this chapter. x

☆ synopsis. "He didn’t see her- but I did. Walked in wearing a dress like forgiveness and eyes like war… and I knew I’d never look away again."

You. Beautiful. Loyal. Unshakeable. To the world, you were just the girl next door- Lando’s oldest friend, the one who stood quietly in the shadows of his spotlight. But behind every podium, every photo, every win... was you. The one who held him together. The one who loved him first. No one knows how hard it was to let him chase his dreams while you buried yours. But you never complained. Never let it show. Not even now, after eight years together, when something feels... off. You crossed oceans for him- crossed the line between friendship and forever. Only to find him kissing someone else beneath the same lights he once said were yours. And in that moment, something inside you shattered- and something stronger woke up. He was supposed to be the finish line. But maybe the race is only just beginning.

Oscar. Silent. Calculated. Watching. He saw you before anyone else ever truly did. Before the lights. Before the chaos. Before the heartbreak. You were never his to lose- but he’s been losing you slowly, secretly, painfully from the moment he realised what you meant to him. Oscar never meant to want what wasn’t his. But every time Lando looked away, he couldn’t stop looking. And when he saw you break that night, walking away without a word, wrapped in the silk and ruin of your love- he knew. He would fight for you. Even if it meant standing on the grid, ready to burn the world down for one more chance.

Chapter 2: The Moment Everything Changed

Song: "Will you cry?" – Gracie Abrams

"You walked like royalty leaving a burning castle- like you didn’t bleed. And God, it ruined me more than any goodbye ever could."

8:10 p.m. - Leaving the Hotel

You stood in front of the full-length mirror, smoothing trembling hands down the delicate silk of your gown. The Oscar de la Renta Ombré Silk Chiffon Gown floated around you like a second skin-beginning in soft, luminous ivory at the bodice and melting into a deep, bruised plum that clung to the floor, like twilight bleeding into night.

The silk rippled with every shallow breath you took- too fragile, too alive- the movement ghosting around your ankles, whispering over your skin like something sacred.

The sweetheart neckline cradled your collarbones, leaving your shoulders bare to the chill of the room. The bodice cinched your waist gently- not with harsh lines, but with a kind of reverence- sculpting, holding, as if reminding you that you were still solid, still standing.

The Jimmy Choo Minny Metallic Leather Sandals wrapped around your ankles, the silver catching the light every time you shifted your weight, delicate but grounding.

The Harry Winston Cluster Diamond Earrings winked under the soft hotel lighting- tiny galaxies caught in delicate clusters at your ears. The Boucheron Serpent Bohème Pendant Necklace rested in the hollow of your throat, its tiny diamond pressing against your thudding pulse. And circling your wrist, where your pulse fluttered too fast to hide, was the Cartier Love Bracelet- cool, weighty, a private promise etched in metal: Always, L.

You clutched the Jimmy Choo Cloud Clutch tighter- feeling the hard, glittering metal edges bite into your palm, welcoming the pain.

You looked at yourself in the mirror- really looked.

You didn't look like the little girl who moved to Surrey at six years old, dragging a pink suitcase behind her, shy and blinking up at a boy with wild curls and a mischievous grin who offered you a toy McLaren before even asking your name. You didn't look like the teenager who spent every summer tangled up in kart tracks, grass-stained knees, and laughter that echoed down long English afternoons. You didn’t even look like the girl who stood in Monaco once, wearing his hoodie three sizes too big, cheering so hard she lost her voice.

You looked like a woman who had stitched herself back together every time he left, every time he broke her heart without realizing he was holding it.

You looked like a woman walking herself into a battlefield- wrapped in silk and diamond armour.

You breathed in- and stepped forward.

The door clicked shut behind you with a soft, definitive finality.

── .✦

8:14 p.m. - The Car

The Mercedes-Maybach waited at the curb, sleek and rain-slicked under the heavy mist.

The chauffeur- a middle-aged man with kind eyes and a crisp black uniform- stepped forward, umbrella already raised. He tilted his head respectfully as you approached.

"Miss," he said quietly, offering his hand.

You smiled faintly- polite, distant- and lifted the skirt of your gown carefully, the plum-dipped silk whispering against your legs as you stepped into the car.

The door closed with a muted click- sealing you away from the cold, from the noise, from the world you weren’t sure you still belonged to.

You let the clutch fall gently into your lap, its jewelled surface flashing briefly under the muted car lights.

The leather seats cradled you in a silence so complete it almost felt sacred.

The chauffeur settled into the driver’s seat, catching your eyes briefly through the rearview mirror.

"First time in Melbourne, miss?" he asked, voice low, polite.

You blinked, startled slightly by the normalcy of it.

You shook your head. "No," you said softly. "Not the first."

He smiled faintly, understanding something you hadn’t said.

The car eased away from the curb, melting into the stream of glittering taillights. Melbourne unfurled outside your window- a collage of wet pavements, smeared neon, reflections pooling like oil slicks under the dull orange glow of streetlamps.

You leaned your forehead lightly against the cold glass, watching the rain trail lazy, uneven paths down the pane. The hum of the tires against the road was hypnotic- steady, rhythmic, pulling you under like a lullaby spun from exhaustion and memory.

Somewhere out there, Lando was laughing.

Golden and alive.

The way he always was when everything finally fell into place.

You curled your fingers tighter around your clutch, the hard corners biting into your palms.

You weren’t chasing a boy tonight.

You were chasing the ghost of a promise.

Maybe it had never been real.

Maybe it had only ever been real to you.

── .✦

8:32 p.m. - Memories on the Road

The city blurred past the window- a river of wet lights and half-forgotten sounds- and your mind blurred with it, folding backwards into memory.

You remembered the first time you met him- new house, new school, new everything- standing awkwardly in your front garden, too shy to say anything. And there he was- this boy with messy curls and a missing tooth, dragging a toy McLaren car behind him on a string.

He marched right up to you, shoved the toy into your hands, and said, "You can drive better than my sister. You’ll have to race me now."

No introductions. No hesitation.

Just certainty.

And somehow- even then- your heart had shifted slightly in your chest.

You remembered the endless afternoons racing battered scooters down your street- him always letting you win when he thought you needed it, pretending to trip or crash spectacularly at the last moment.

You remembered birthdays- him sneaking into your garden at midnight every year to leave presents on your windowsill. Silly things: a cracked snow globe, a faded comic book, a hand-drawn race map he said would be "yours and mine only."

You remembered your sixteenth birthday- sitting side-by-side on the cracked stone wall behind your house, drinking stolen champagne from paper cups. You remembered him looking at you too long, too softly, saying, "You’re my best girl, you know that?"

You remembered how your heart had nearly broken itself trying to stay still.

You remembered when you told your parents you were dating- Lando standing there, bouncing on the balls of his feet, so anxious he forgot to breathe until your father clapped him on the back and said, "About bloody time."

You remembered dates that weren’t glamorous- not five-star restaurants or grand events- but bowling alleys at midnight, corner shop ice creams after practice, falling asleep during bad movies with your feet tangled under old, battered blankets.

You remembered rainy nights like this one- him pulling you under his jacket, holding it above your heads as you sprinted through London streets, laughing until you couldn’t breathe.

You remembered promises whispered into your hair- "Wherever I go, you go too."

You had built entire lifetimes out of those promises.

Brick by brick. Hope by fragile hope.

And now- now you were here to find out if the whole house had been made of sand.

You blinked hard, smoothing the silk over your knees with hands that wouldn’t stop shaking.

You pressed your wrist lightly to your chest- feeling the Cartier bracelet, the engraving hidden against your pulse like a secret no one else could see.

Always, L.

You swallowed back the burn rising in your throat.

One more breath. One more step.

One more chance to find out if the boy who promised you the stars had learned how to hold them.

Or if he had already let them slip through his fingers.

── .✦

8:58 p.m. - Crown Metropol Rooftop, Melbourne

The elevator sighed open, spilling you onto the rooftop as if it were the edge of a dream, you hadn’t realized you were still clinging to. For a moment, you stood there, the threshold pressing against your body like a hand, holding you still. The world in front of you moved too fast, was too bright, too loud, too alive- a kaleidoscope of noise and color you didn’t feel part of.

The rooftop was a living thing. Rain slicked the dark stone underfoot, mist curled through the humid air, perfume and champagne hung heavy and sweet, and the sky above bled neon into the lingering mist. Beyond the glass railings, Melbourne pulsed in the distanceskyscrapers blurred into soft halos of gold and silver, the city lights blinking like slow, exhausted heartbeats far below.

The bass hit you first. A low, relentless thrum, vibrating up through the delicate straps of your Jimmy Choo Minny sandals, up the tendons of your calves, up your spine, into the hollow spaces in your chest. It wasn’t music anymore; it was a second, alien heartbeat rattling through your bones, making you feel simultaneously heavier and lighter than your body could hold.

You took a slow, deliberate step forward, the Oscar de la Renta Ombré Silk Chiffon Gown trailing behind you like smoke. The pale ivory of the bodice caught the rooftop’s sharp white lights, making you look otherworldly, untouchable. The silk skimmed your curves, cinched your waist with reverence instead of restraint, and melted into the stormy plum of the skirt, pooling at your feet with every movement like a living, breathing thing.

Your hair, curled into soft waves hours earlier, now clung slightly to the nape of your neck, kissed damp by the mist. You could feel stray strands sticking to your bare shoulders, a delicate annoyance that somehow made you feel even more exposed. The Boucheron Serpent Bohème Pendant Necklace rested cold against the fevered beating of your pulse. The Harry Winston earrings at your lobes caught the fractured light and threw it back in glittering bursts every time you moved your head.

And then there was the Cartier Love Bracelet at your wrist.

It felt heavier than it ever had before, pressing into your skin with a weight that was almost sentient. As you drifted through the crowd, you slid your thumb along the cool gold absently, the ridges and hidden engraving a silent, cruel comfort. Always, L. It was supposed to be a promise. Tonight, it felt like a shackle.

You floated forward, the gown whispering secrets against your skin, your steps light, measured, effortless in appearance but weighted with everything you could not say. You moved as you had been taught to move- like mist, like royalty, like someone the world couldn’t touch unless you allowed it.

The faces around you turned. Men leaned out of conversations to watch you pass, their glances lingering longer than they should have. Women tilted their heads toward each other behind crystal flutes, their whispered assessments slicing through the thick air. But none of it touched you. None of it mattered.

You had learned a long time ago how to wear your beauty like armour. How to carry yourself with the kind of poise that disarmed, the kind that protected, the kind that kept people from looking too closely.

You didn’t meet a single gaze.

Inside, your heart was hammering so violently it felt like it might split your chest open. It thundered in your ears, drowned out the bass, made your breath catch somewhere shallow and frantic in your lungs. You felt like you were made of glass, vibrating so hard you might shatter. Yet on the outside, you were the perfect portrait of serenity- elegant, ethereal, untouchable.

You tightened your grip around the Jimmy Choo Cloud Crystal Clutch, letting the jewelled edges bite into your skin until the pain steadied you.

The gown rippled around you like a sigh, your sandals clicking against the rain-slick stone with every step. The perfume clinging to your skin, the Baccarat Rouge 540 you had misted into the air hours earlier, still lingered like a memory, sweet and faintly bitter now.

You breathed in the night and exhaled all the trembling, all the longing, all the foolish hope that still knotted itself inside your chest.

You could feel the Cartier bracelet shift slightly as your muscles tensed. You rolled your wrist against it, feeling the familiar weight, the memory burned into the curve of the metal. It was supposed to be a tether, something that anchored you to him. Instead, it felt like a scar.

The city stretched out before you, indifferent and alive, and somewhere among the blur of strangers and sponsors and laughter too sharp to be real-

He was here.

Somewhere, he was breathing the same air.

Somewhere, he was laughing, alive in his victory.

And you- You were still foolish enough to hope he would see you.

── .✦

9:01 p.m. - Lando

He wasn't difficult to find.

You could have found him in a stadium filled with thousands, even blindfolded, even dreaming.

The rooftop was crowded, voices buzzing low over the beat of the music, the misty rain blurring the edges of figures laughing and toasting and spilling champagne across the slick stone floor. But you spotted him instantly, drawn by some old, invisible string tied between your ribs and his.

Lando stood by the glass railing, the city lights casting him in a halo of faint gold, the kind of glow that didn’t come from the neon or the mist- it came from him. He wore a white Tom Ford shirt, sleeves shoved to his elbows like he hadn’t cared to fix them after the race, the fine fabric damp where it clung to the lean muscles of his arms. His dark trousers hung low on his hips, casual and effortless, and he still had on those same worn, scuffed white sneakers you used to tease him about refusing to give them up even when he could have afforded a thousand new pairs.

His hair was damp from the mist, curls sticking to his forehead in messy loops, the chain you once gifted him glinting faintly at his collarbone.

He was laughing. Head tipped back, mouth wide open, that crooked, reckless grin cracking his face wide open.

For a second- a full, sharp, excruciating second- you were transported back to being sixteen again, running across his family’s rain-slick backyard, grass stains on your knees, breathless from chasing each other around the garden while your parents called out warnings from the patio.

“You’ll catch a cold!” “You’ll break your necks!”

You had only laughed harder. Because back then, everything that mattered fit between the spaces of your laughter and his.

Your heart slammed against your ribs, once, twice, a sickening drumbeat that vibrated up into your teeth.

You took a step forward. Then another.

The silk of your gown hissed against the stone, your heels whispering sharp, precise clicks in the heavy air.

You gripped your clutch tighter, the bracelet at your wrist pressing into your pulse like a brand- steady, familiar, almost cruel now in its tenderness.

You could already feel it building- the way his eyes would lift, search the room instinctively, land on you, widen with disbelief.

You could feel how the glass would slip from his hand, how his smile would falter, how the world would crack open between you just long enough for you to fall back into it together.

You knew the script. You had lived it before- every time he came off a race, searching the crowd, finding you.

You had believed in it the way children believed in fairy tales- not because they were real, but because sometimes belief itself could be a kind of magic.

You stepped closer, breath caught behind your teeth.

And then-

She reached him first.

Tall. Blonde. Perfect. Wrapped in a Saint Laurent black dress that clung to her body like molten glass, every line of her screaming ownership.

You froze.

Your lungs forgot how to pull in air. Your body forgot how to stand.

She touched him- casually, intimately- a palm sliding up his chest, fingertips dragging over the fabric you once tugged on during long, lazy afternoons when he refused to let you go.

You willed him- desperately, silently- Please look up. Please feel me.

The city seemed to hold its breath.

For half a second- a heartbeat, a prayer- it felt like maybe he would.

And then he smiled.

That same slow, lazy, familiar smile- the one that used to break open just for you- and bent his head.

The kiss wasn’t hurried. It wasn’t drunk.

It was deliberate.

It was certain.

His hand slid to her waist with a familiarity that punched the breath out of your body. He kissed her like it was easy, like it was normal, like it was inevitable.

The world spun violently, tilting the ground under your feet.

The neon lights fractured against the glass barriers, the music twisting into a distorted roar in your ears.

Your heart cracked audibly inside your chest- not just a break, but a full rupture.

Pain lanced up your throat, thick and choking, but you held it in place like you had been taught- like a good girl, like a perfect girl, like a girl who knew better than to bleed in public.

Your nails dug into the jewelled surface of your clutch until you felt the tiny, painful pricks of broken skin.

You didn’t move. Not yet.

Your mind scrambled for excuses- maybe it was a mistake, maybe it was a joke, maybe-

But your heart knew better.

Your heart always knew first.

The Cartier bracelet at your wrist suddenly felt too tight, as if the metal itself recoiled from your skin.

Always, L.

A promise he had stopped keeping long before tonight.

── .✦

9:02 p.m. - Oscar’s POV

Oscar hated everything about this night.

He hated the feel of the Tom Ford tuxedo stretched stiffly across his shoulders, the way the fabric clung and itched against his skin with every restless shift of his body. The shoes pinched at his toes, polished to a mirror shine he didn’t give a damn about. The tie at his throat felt more like a noose than a formality, tightening every time he swallowed another forced smile.

He hated the rooftop- the stone floor slick with mist and rain, the sharp sting of champagne-soaked air heavy with humidity, the mingling scents of expensive colognes and too-sweet perfumes turning his stomach. Around him, the world pulsed and throbbed with bass, the music vibrating in his bones, the kind of synthetic noise that made it impossible to think, let alone feel anything real.

He hated the endless stream of sponsors- businessmen with too-perfect smiles and handshakes that lingered just a second too long. He hated the way they looked through him, not at him, as if he were nothing but a gleaming badge they could pin to their jackets, a name they could brag about knowing before it was too late.

He hated the celebration itself- hollow, brittle, fake. He hated pretending that the night wasn’t suffocating him.

He stood near the DJ booth, swirling a glass of whiskey in his hand without any real intention of drinking it, foot tapping impatiently against the slick stone, counting the minutes until he could leave.

He wanted to be anywhere else- a quiet hotel room with the windows cracked open to the rain, a run-down bar where no one cared who he was, even the deserted back streets of Melbourne, soaked to the bone and free.

Anywhere but here.

And then- the elevator doors sighed open.

Oscar didn’t know what made him look. Instinct, maybe. Fate, if you believed in that kind of thing.

All he knew was that when you stepped into the rooftop, the world fell silent.

For one endless moment, it was just you and him.

You wore a gown that floated like mist around you, soft ivory melting into a bruised plum that kissed the rain-slick floor. The silk clung to your body with a reverence that no hands could match, sculpting to your frame, moving with you like a living thing. Your hair, curled perfectly earlier, was now kissed by the mist- soft, wild, framing your face in a halo of damp curls.

You looked like you didn’t belong to the crowd at all. You looked like you belonged to some other place- some quieter, purer world that people like him had no right to touch.

Oscar forgot how to stand. He forgot how to breathe.

His heart gave a single, painful lurch against his ribs, and he realized- too late- that every part of him had been wired, programmed, built to find you.

He wasn’t looking for you. He hadn’t expected you. He hadn’t even dared hope.

And yet- he could not have missed you if he tried.

You moved through the crowd like you were made of something finer- something stronger. Your head was held high, your shoulders pulled back, and yet there was a tightness to your mouth, a slight tremble in your fingers as they curled tightly around the small, jewelled clutch at your side.

Oscar’s stomach twisted.

He watched your eyes scan the crowd- frantic beneath the careful mask you wore- searching. Hoping.

And then- you found him.

Lando.

Oscar watched the hope bloom across your face- raw, reckless, blinding in its intensity.

It carved him open.

Because he knew that look. He knew it better than he wished he did.

He knew what it meant to pin your whole heart on someone, to believe in them against all odds, to wait across oceans and time zones and lonely nights because you knew- you knew- they were worth it.

He saw it light you up from the inside, fragile and bright.

And then he saw it die.

He followed your line of sight.

Lando stood at the railing, white Tom Ford shirt untucked, sleeves shoved to his elbows, curls damp and wild from the rain. His posture was loose, effortless, a drink dangling carelessly from his hand. His laugh cut through the noise- rich, unbothered, golden.

And then the blonde stepped into view- tall, willowy, wearing a slinky black Saint Laurent dress that clung to her like armour.

Oscar watched her place a hand on Lando’s chest- casual, confident- and tilt her chin up in silent invitation.

He watched Lando smile- that same smile he had once reserved for only one person- and then, without hesitation, he bent his head and kissed her.

It was slow. It was deliberate.

It was final.

Oscar didn’t realize he had moved until someone yelped behind him, a champagne flute knocked from their hand as he shoved through the crowd, heart pounding painfully against his ribs.

He didn’t think.

He didn’t breathe.

He just knew- knew he had to get to you.

But he was too late.

You didn’t collapse.

You didn’t cry.

You didn’t even flinch.

You just stood there- frozen for one terrible second- as the world ended quietly around you.

And then- you straightened.

You lifted your chin.

You turned on your heel, gown swirling around you like mist, and you walked.

Not hurried. Not desperate.

You walked like royalty leaving a burning castle.

You walked like you had survived worse.

You walked like you didn’t bleed.

Oscar stopped moving, heart splitting open in his chest as he watched you disappear into the crowd- head high, eyes blank, shoulders squared against the storm.

He wanted to run after you.

He wanted to shake Lando until his teeth rattled.

He wanted to scream.

But he didn’t.

He just stood there, fists clenched at his sides, feeling every stupid, broken, impossible thing he had ever tried to bury about you come roaring to the surface.

You had ruined him. He had let you. And he would do it all over again.

── .✦

9:08 p.m. - After She Leaves

Oscar stood there for a few seconds longer, staring at the elevator doors long after they had closed. His chest was tight, his hands aching from how tightly he had curled them into fists at his sides. The rooftop spun around him- laughter, music, clinking glasses- a grotesque parody of celebration he no longer had the stomach for.

The whiskey still sloshed untouched in his glass. He threw it into the nearest planter without hesitation, the heavy thud barely satisfying.

Then he turned on his heel, heading straight for the last place he wanted to go- the bar where Lando now stood, half-leaning against it, laughing with the blonde pressed too comfortably against his side.

Oscar could feel the anger crawling under his skin like a living thing. He could taste it- bitter, metallic, suffocating.

By the time he reached Lando, the words were already burning his tongue.

"You’re a fucking idiot," Oscar bit out, loud enough that the conversation around them stumbled to an awkward halt.

Lando blinked, slow and lazy, setting down his glass. "Jesus, mate. What’s your problem?"

Oscar stepped closer, lowering his voice into something dangerous. "You didn’t even see her, did you?"

Lando frowned, confusion crossing his face. "Who?"

Oscar laughed- a harsh, broken sound. "Your fucking girlfriend, who the fuck else Lando? She was standing right fucking there. Watching you."

Lando's face twisted, defensive, brushing it off like an irritating fly. "You’re seeing shit. She’s not here. If she was, she would’ve texted me. She wouldn’t just show up randomly without telling me. You know her."

Oscar stared at him, feeling something black coil tighter in his chest.

"Yeah," he said, voice razor-sharp. "I do know her."

Lando scoffed, looking away, lifting his drink back to his mouth. "If she’s not answering my texts, she’s not here. Probably busy. Not everything’s about your little fantasies, Piastri."

The way he said it- like a joke, like you were a fucking afterthought- made Oscar see red.

"You don’t even fucking know her," Oscar snarled, stepping forward until there was barely any space between them.

Lando smirked, that arrogant edge slipping into his voice. "What, you interested in her or something?"

Oscar didn’t hesitate.

"Yeah," he said, voice low and brutal. "I have been. Longer than you even realized. I see her, Norris. Every fucking time you don't."

Lando’s smile cracked- a flash of something ugly, insecure, flashing across his face.

"You’re full of shit," he muttered, but his hand tightened around his drink, white-knuckled.

Oscar leaned in closer, dropping his voice to something lethal. "I know her better than you ever did. I've seen it- the way she looks at you, even when you don't deserve it. The way she still fucking hopes."

He paused, letting the words sink in, letting the truth rip through the cracks in Lando’s armour.

"And you just threw it away for-"

The blonde chose that moment to interrupt, her voice syrupy and smug.

"Maybe she should’ve tried harder if she wanted to keep him," she said, tossing her hair over her shoulder, her nails digging possessively into Lando’s arm.

Oscar turned his head slowly toward her, eyes flashing cold.

"Shut the fuck up," he snapped, the words hitting like a slap. "You’re the reason he’s throwing away the only real thing he’s ever fucking had. You're a fucking leech."

The blonde recoiled like he had struck her, face flushing hot with embarrassment and anger.

Lando immediately moved to defend her, pushing off the bar, stepping between them.

"Don’t talk to her like that," he growled.

And that was it.

Oscar didn’t think- he didn’t hesitate.

His fist connected with Lando’s jaw with a brutal, sickening crack.

Lando staggered back, crashing into the edge of the bar, the glass he had been holding shattering on the floor.

The entire rooftop seemed to fall silent.

Oscar stood there, chest heaving, glaring at him with something dark and furious pulsing behind his ribs.

"Get your head out of your fucking ass," Oscar hissed. "You’re losing her. You already lost her. And if you don't believe me, text her yourself."

He jerked his chin toward Lando's pocket, where his phone sat uselessly.

"Go on," Oscar challenged, voice dripping with venom. "Text her. See if she answers."

But Lando didn't move.

He just stood there- stunned, blood trickling from the corner of his mouth, pride bleeding out of him even faster.

He didn’t pull out his phone. He didn’t call after you. He didn’t fight for you.

Oscar shook his head, disgusted, and turned away without another word.

He could feel the blonde’s furious gaze burning into his back, but he didn’t give a shit. He didn’t owe her- or Lando- a goddamn thing.

His only thought, the only thing hammering inside his chest now, was you.

You- walking into the rain alone, shoulders set like stone, the heartbreak written into the line of your spine no matter how hard you tried to hide it.

Oscar pulled his phone from his pocket with trembling fingers, dialling before he could lose his nerve.

You deserved someone who would notice.

Someone who would run after you, even if it was already too late.

24 notes · View notes

noisydelusionlove · 20 hours ago

Text

Chapter 32: Maybe we do get happily ever afters (END)

Pairings: Poly141xOC

Warnings: A/BO dynamics

Note: Finally finished, thank you for everyone’s continued support. Please make sure to check out my other works. I am currently working on StuckyxOC fic that I have finished, just have to edit and post. I am also starting a GojoxOC A/B/O fanfic :)

The morning sun was barely peeking through the trees as they made their way back to the mansion. Aurora, still caught in the aftershocks of the claiming, felt the deep pull of the bond settle like a weight in her chest. Her omega instincts were content, sated for the first time in a long while. The connection she shared with Ghost and Johnny felt solid now, undeniable. They were all intertwined—alpha, beta, omega—and she knew, in that moment, she had made the right choice.

Ghost walked ahead, his broad shoulders tense with the quiet ferocity of someone still trying to come to terms with the bond. Johnny kept a hand on her lower back, guiding her forward like a silent promise. The three of them had found their balance, but the reality of what had just happened—what they’d just done—lingered in the air.

Aurora took a deep breath, pulling the scent of her mates in. She didn’t want to leave this place—this moment—but she knew they had to. There was the team to consider, the pack waiting for them back at the base.

As they approached the gates of the mansion, the heavy scent of their newly formed bond was still thick on their skin. The gate loomed before them, and in the distance, she could see the outline of Price’s SUV, parked just outside the entrance. Gaz and Price were waiting for them.

Aurora’s heart beat harder in her chest. She wasn’t nervous—not exactly—but there was something about returning to them, about confronting her team with what had happened, that set her on edge. “We’re not hiding this, are we?” she asked quietly, looking between Ghost and Johnny.

Ghost met her gaze, his eyes still turbulent with emotions he wasn’t ready to unpack. “No,” he said shortly. “We’ve been through too much to pretend it didn’t happen. This is how it is now.”

Aurora nodded, her pulse quickening, her hand finding Johnny’s again. Together, they made their way to the car. The doors opened, and the cool morning air hit her skin.

As they neared the vehicle, Price stepped out of the driver's seat, his stern face softening just slightly as he noticed them. He’d seen the tension in Ghost’s eyes, the unsettled energy that radiated off all of them. He understood—he always had. Price knew how much they all fought this, how much they all wanted it but couldn’t admit it.

Gaz leaned against the side of the SUV, his eyes darting from Aurora to Ghost to Johnny, sensing the shift in the air around them. He knew. He could smell it—the new bond they’d forged. His expression was unreadable, but there was a softness in his gaze when he looked at her.

“So, you’ve made your choice then,” Price said, his voice low but not unkind.

Aurora gave a quiet nod, biting her lip. “Yes,” she answered softly. “I’m... I’m sorry for what I put you all through, but this is what I want. This is... how it needs to be.”

Johnny stepped up beside her, his presence grounding. “We’re all in this together. No secrets. No running away from what’s been built here.”

Price looked from Johnny to Aurora, then back to Ghost, who was standing a few paces behind, his posture rigid. “Good,” Price said, his voice firm, but there was an unmistakable note of approval in his eyes. “But know this—you’re not alone. We’re family, no matter how complicated that is.”

Gaz nodded in agreement, though his eyes were focused on the trio, an unreadable expression on his face. But the subtle shift in his posture, the way his beta energy was tamped down but still present, spoke volumes.

“We’ll figure this out,” Gaz said quietly. “But don’t think you’re the only ones who’ve been waiting for something like this. We’ve all been through hell. We’re stronger together.”

The three of them—the team, the pack—stood together, and for the first time, Aurora truly felt that unity. She wasn’t alone anymore. And neither were they.

“We’ll all find our way,” Price added, his voice softer now. “Together. No matter what happens.”

Aurora smiled, but it wasn’t the kind of smile she’d worn before. It was softer, gentler, and yet more confident. “Thank you,” she said, looking at all of them. She was no longer just an omega standing on the sidelines, afraid of the future. She was part of something more now. And whatever the future held, she knew—no matter how rocky or intense it would get—they would face it together.

---

The morning sun spilled through the gauzy curtains, painting stripes of gold across the thick comforter tangled around their legs. Aurora stirred first, nestled between the warmth of two heavy bodies—Soap’s arm around her waist, Ghost’s hand tucked under her shirt and resting on her stomach. She blinked slowly, the quiet rhythm of their breathing syncing with hers.

She was warm. Safe. Home. For a moment, she didn’t move. Just laid there and listened. Soap let out a soft snore beside her, his face buried against her neck, his mark still slightly raised and tender where his teeth had sunk in. Ghost was curled protectively around her back, his broad chest pressed to her spine. The bond hummed between them—alive, golden, content.

Aurora smiled to herself. They had survived so much. Broken each other. Fought like hell. Loved harder. Now… they had this. She slid her hand over Soap’s where it rested across her hip and laced their fingers together. He stirred, pressing a sleepy kiss to her skin.

“You’re thinkin’ too loud,” he mumbled against her throat.

“I’m allowed,” she whispered back. “I’m happy.”

Ghost grunted softly behind her. “You smell happy.”

She laughed, nuzzling back into him. “Can’t help it. I’ve got my boys.”

Later that night, the five of them were sat in the common room. A rare night off. A fire in the hearth. Pizza boxes on the table. The kind of night they used to dream of when things were still sharp-edged and unsaid.

Aurora had her legs over Soap’s lap while Gaz massaged her calves absentmindedly. Johnny was arguing with Gaz about the best movie snacks, both of them half-laughing, half-yelling, while Price just sipped his drink and watched them with tired affection from one of the chairs in the corner.

“You’re all wrong,” Aurora declared over the noise. “The best snack is chocolate-covered popcorn, full stop.”

“Abomination,” Soap groaned, tugging on a strand of her hair.

“You eat haggis and you’re judging me?” Ghost’s mouth twitched into a rare smile as he leaned back in his chair. “I’d eat her popcorn if it made her happy.”

“Aww,” she teased, twisting to kiss his cheek. “My feral apex has a soft side.”

“You’re lucky I’m bonded or I’d bite you for that,” Ghost growled.

“You’re bonded and you still bite,” Gaz muttered, reaching for a slice.

They all laughed—real laughter this time. Unburdened. Easy. And it hit Aurora all at once: this was hers. They were hers. A pack. A home. A love that had clawed its way out of pain and survived the fire.

She caught Johnny’s eye across the room and gave him a soft smile. He grinned back, easy and fond.

They were whole. And finally, finally, they were happy.

<<<Previous Chapter

Masterlist

Tag List-

@No1runawaymilkdad

@Yearninglustfully

@Iloveslasher

@Chickennn-soupp

@F-cklife

@Nomercyforthewarrior

@Serahlune

@Grey-shadow6475

@Vincein2d

@itsyogirllaenaa

@imjustheretofightforlove

@chuuuyayayay

@instantkidpaperslime

@the-willows-whisper

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@multifandom301

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@danielle143

@addie-r-u-ok

@domsangels

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Credits-

Silver heart knot divider by @tsunami-of-tears

MDNI divider by @arlerts-angel

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howdygravytrain · 8 months ago

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FFXIV Write 2024 - Prompt #19: Taken

i'm not a writer by any means, but i absolutely had to take part in the ffxiv write 2024 challenge. this drabble is super rough and i may come back and expand on it later, but i'm just happy that i managed to write anything at all :^3

here's the link to the fic on ao3 if you wanna check it out there, otherwise continue below the break! many apologies for spelling/grammar/whatever errors, i don't know how to manage time efficiently totally not obvious by sharing something a day later UwU

PROMPT: TAKEN

Premise: He knew Gravy would dance with others at the ball, but Aymeric can't help but feel taken with jealousy as he watched person after person steal a dance with his Warrior.

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

“You can just go up and dance with her, you know,” a voice said, having successfully interrupted Aymeric’s state of brooding and startling the poor elezen. Quickly composing himself, the Lord Commander turned to the perpetrator to apologize for appearing so glum, but his shoulders sagged in relief when he saw it was only Stephanivien. “I wasn’t joking, go on and ask the girl to dance before you glare everyone to death,” the eldest Haillenarte added, making Aymeric wince.

“Is it really that noticeable?” Aymeric stated more than asked, already knowing the answer.

“My friend, I had to convince Artoirel that you weren’t going to pull out your sword and skewer the next poor sod who asked Gravy’s hand for a dance!” Stephanivien exasperated dramatically with a wave of his hand. “I personally think it’d be hilarious if you did; it’d certainly bring more excitement to this absolute waste of time.” The machinist ran a hand through his blond hair and huffed in annoyance, his pale blue eyes scanning the room. “Ugh, this is the last time I let Art coerce me into attending one of these. He knows I have much to work on at the shop, I don’t have time to be stuck with these pricks and their hors d’oeuvres! And I have to wear this ridiculous garb that father insisted– ”

Aymeric tuned out Stephanivien’s ranting at that point and graciously accepted a glass of wine from a servant. He didn’t bother with a sip and threw his head back and downed the entire drink in one go, promptly returning the glass to the stunned server. His eyes trailed back towards the center of the dance floor and landed on the lone lalafell of the entire room…and the bastard she was dancing with. He couldn’t quite place who the man was, but Aymeric immediately disliked him for how Gravy obviously struggled to keep up with the elezen’s much longer legs.

The Lord Speaker frowned as he watched the Warrior try to tell her dance partner something, presumably to shorten his steps. He replied with yanking her harshly by the arm and pulled her up to his chest with a wicked grin, making the dancers around them gasp. Rage filled Aymeric as he marched his way to the pair, ready to beat the ever living shit out the fiend, but stopped a few steps short when Gravy, in all her gracefulness, slapped the man’s face with a resounding SMACK.

All noise immediately ceased in the ballroom as the man cried out in pain and dropped Gravy to clutch his cheek. She got up and nonchalantly dusted herself off as her dance partner’s companions came rushing to his aid. With one hand on her hip and the other pointed to wailing elezen, Gravy loudly said,

“That ain’t NO way to treat a person, ya pompous fuck! You oughta be ashamed of yerself!”

Aymeric stood there in disbelief as the ballroom erupted in laughter as the offender was dragged out before he let out a small chuckle himself.

#ffxiv #ff14 #ffxivwrite2024 #drabble #wolmeric #wolship #gravy tries writing: difficulty extreme #aymeric de borel #stephanivien de haillenarte #warrior of light #ffxiv wol #i've been trying to write a fic about gravy for several months now #and maybe have one solid chapter finished #that only one other person has read and it's cause they beta'd for me LMAO #i have terrible anxiety about sharing my writing cause there's so many amazing writers out there that i feel grossly inferior to #so i just haven't shared anything or really kept writing #but i'm using this challenge to hopefully help me get over some of that anxiety and just WRITE something #even though i'm hella late to the challenge i'm over the moon that i was able to make something

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teethbomb · 16 days ago

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hhhhhhnnngh

#Chatterbomb #Reading Thoughts May Dim by themoomin and I’m on the last chapter… hhhnnngg :(#I’m like halfway through it and it’s not looking good #It’s not tagged as having a bad ending but. I’m scared #I liked knave of diamonds because when lupin was an asshole he got 3 billion kicks in the head #Now it’s very centered around sad zeni. Free my boy he didn’t do anything #This poor lonely self deprecating man… where is the zenigata has A Good Day and is loved and cherished and happy #Sadness seeping through to me. I need to find zenigata happy and healthy stuff #I finished it now and. I think it was supposed to be a happy ending?#Zenigata just uprooted his life and morals so his crush wouldn’t kill himself. Ok #I’m all for zeni doesn’t wanna be a cop anymore because I think there’s a lot that can be done with that and criticize the justice system #But it.. doesn’t usually do that #I think it was pretty solid until the last chapter and a few other things that poked out #We all have different interpretations for characters in a 50+ year old franchise but!! Some things stuck out to me yk #I feel like jigen is a bit mean in these ones!! He shows up and is always the embodiment of jealousy and I think that’s not good actually #He’s protective yeah but he doesn’t.. like.. hate zenigata.. maybe it’s just a part 2 thing and I’ve forgor but he was also silly with it #He kissed his mouth and made him chase after him when he asked for a light. I feel like everyone is a bit more mean. Aside from zeni who is #Pretty chill honestly on account of the depression I guess. He turned a lot of things in on himself and never blamed lupin (at least not fo #Long) which is? Interesting ig? I felt a lot for zeni cause honestly I relate! But the way the story went didn’t feel like a good ending.#It felt like a bad ending in a psychological horror. If anyone’s reading this take it with a grain of salt #I may be viewing zeni in rose colored glasses because. Favorite character disease or something #It’s kind of heart breaking watching this sweet confused guy get further and further wrapped around this unstable manipulators finger. And #It Even had a “riding off into the sunset” type of ending. Zeni can be sweet but he felt VERY sweet in this story. And the worst things he #Did to contribute to his “corruption” was? Sleeping with Lupin? Ok. Wgat.#Oh and. Stealing a coin from some guy on impulse because it was from his ancestor. He regretted it immediately (the episode itself is silly #And hints on him breaking laws to catch lupin which are not elaborated on #It’s an interpretation on how luzeni would work I guess but it just felt off? Idk man I’m gonna take a shower #Ohhh wait. The enemies to lovers tag was listed as “kind of?” And I was wondering how you make that “kind of”. I know now.#are they lovers? worse

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alienssstufff · 4 months ago

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This Should've Been an Email

His mouth moved without it telling it to, then closed like whoever was possessing him didn’t know what to say either. There was something going on, something Etho could feel but didn’t understand. They were standing on the edge of the world, and Etho didn’t know how to tell Bdubs he was out of time. Was he out of time? Maybe he was just going insane again. Maybe-

“Etho, there’s a lot of void energy going on right now, can you focus-”

You can’t outsmart a god. You can only run.

[ READ HERE ] Latest addition to the Should've Could've Would've series and sequel to the YCAOverse byyyy incredible great @goingdownorup cinemaaaa is HERE and we are BACK IN THE BUILDING!!!

[rambling undercut]

you've fallen for my trap card, ramblings not about the actual fic yet sorry - I'm going to talk about art technicalities at you now :]

Ver without the text:

I drew this up on a whim immediately after finishing the first chapter. Other than it being fanart, this year I want to think smarter when making elaborate pieces - this being the one of the first experiments on it.

sketches have always been my starting foundation I usually go through a few iterations gradually building off the rough thumbnail all the way to lineart. Here I'm establishing perspective and rhythm (movement), using background and props to better frame the emphasis (focal) rather than overwhelm the eye with unnecessary detail.

Shirahama's Witch Hat Atelier manga panels were an inspiration for the lineart (reoccuring character. WHA changed my life)

I even started actually putting base colours instead of skipping to shading... BASE COLOURS. BASE COLOURS WITHOUT SHADING? Crazy world we live in. Above were me testing which colours worked best for the background and purpose. Ethubs look a little out of place atm - this changes in solid filters

Shading itself was a lot of back and forth in constant fumbles to maintain the rhythm instructed in the lineart, adding emphasis how values needed to carry the visual communication of this piece especially with a line heavy background because of the wheatfields. Everything uses either cel shading, filters, or gradients - I wanted to find a way to add complexity to my regular rendering style without needing to manually blend/paint (takes too long)

During this stage, Heikala's watercolour art was the study in crowd control (backgrounds with organic repetition)

Smaller misc details that couldn't fit anywhere in the previous pages. Overall while there are some things I still would change/redo, overall very pleased as a first (second) attempt ^_^

#stufffsart #character concept stufff #stufff rambles #ycao au #<- Going to be my catch all tag for everything of that tl #This Shouldve Been an Email #ethoslab #etho #bdoubleo100 #bdoubleo #bdubs #ethubs #(theres a third person if you can spot them)#hermitcraft #hermitblr #mcytblr #theres still other things from the sequel i wanna draw (jizzie designs - gem and cleo etc) thatll have to wait #this cover and my other fancover are so stylistically different whwhwh

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genderqueeradrien · 2 years ago

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i have so many fics that i want to work on but i cant work on them all at once im going to throw my computer out a window

#text #I WANT 2 WORK ON THEM ALL AT ONCE #bc i love the premises for all 3 of the big ones i have planned* (*loose term)#but idk if i can bounce btwn 3 fics i think id get confused #and also theyd all take longer to write that way So i wouldnt get the serotonin of Finishing something for a while #but AOUGH. i want to write them all NOW. SO BAD.#one of them is shaping up to be. Really Long. at least by my standards. ive outlined 20 chapters so far and im almosttt done but not quite #and one i dont have many Solid ideas for i just have. The Vibes. and the vibes are me projecting my mental illness onto adrien and th #and then making him some soup and watching him get better. and im SO EXCITED for it but im still not sure of like. the actual #plot of it. or if it should even have a strong plot maybe i should just say fuck it!! i did consider making it all like- somewhat connected #vignettes over time. but also its so scary to write without a strong plot. LIke what if i run out of ideas ☹️

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kamiversee · 4 months ago

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𓆩 Crown of Sin 𓆪

Segment I Chapter: One

❀ ~ Synopsis > In which you’re a princess who's given a total of six months to converge & inaugurate a solid plan secure enough to rid you of your fated marriage arrangements to Naoya Zenin.

❀ ~ Content > language, arranged marriage, tension from all over, bickering, mentions of a harem, etc.

❀ ~ Word Count > 5.6k

❀ ~ Pairings > jjk men & women x f!reader.

{ chapters m!list }

——You would rather die a thousand times over than become Naoya Zenin’s wife.

Something unorthodox must’ve plagued the mind of your parents this morning because there is simply no way they’d worked up such an audacity to happily relay this information to you. You were to be wed in six months time and yet, this is your first time hearing of such a proposal.

Hell, you hadn’t even received a literal proposal from this alleged fiancé of yours so, who exactly was orchestrating such a wedding and why had you no say nor awareness in it before now?

“You two are humoring me right now, yes?” Your voice had carried throughout the space of the throne room with such grace that all the attendees of this rather small gathering couldn’t help but have their eyes drawn to you.

The few maids, guards at their posts within the room, your own mother and father who sat oh-so-comfortably upon their thrones, and the few others who were allowed to be in this space as such information was presented to you. Being the one to have ripped the bandage off and relayed said information to you recently, your mother cannot help but find her eyes drifting over to her husband for help.

The two exchange a knowing glance and you watch as they swallow down whatever nerves may have rested center in their throats. Then, your father’s shoulders raise ever so slightly and he averts his eyes over to you.

Voicing your name in that aged gruff tone of his, followed by a slight clearing of his throat, he begins to break the wafted air of silence. “You must understand that this is for the betterment of our nation. We rival none aside from the eastern nation so, naturally, it is only in our best interest to have you wed with the heir to the Zenin family throne.”

You scoff, openly. Eyes widen around the room and looks are exchanged by many but how do people expect you to react to this? Are you meant to be joyous about marrying the most pompous individual across all the lands, a man of which you have only ever encountered maybe two or three times in all your years of living?? Yeah, fuck that.

“So, I am meant to marry this man in six months' time, the engagement will be officially announced at tonight’s ball, and I haven’t a single say in this entire ordeal?” You breathe out carefully, your head tilting and eyes narrowing at the worried eyes of your parents.

Your mother responds with a shaky sigh, “Darling, we hadn’t any choice in this either. Our only options were to marry you off or go to war and we do not have the defenses to—”

“They threatened us?” You interrupt, another act that receives appalled looks from those spectating. “Please tell me you jest, mother. What could the East possibly hope to gain from going to war with us? We’ve been at peace for years and now all of a sudden—”

“Permission to speak,” Chimes another voice. Your eyes flick to your father’s left, landing on the one man he trusts with his life more than anyone else, your nation’s military general; Masamichi Yaga. “Your Highness.” He finishes off, gaze firm on the area of which you stand.

You take a moment to stare, taking in his roughened appearance despite the uniform that fits him so snuggly. Without realizing it, your eyes rake over his form up and down about twice before he clears his throat to break your lingering stare. “Granted,” You eventually allow with a nod of your head.

Yaga straightens up where he stands and exchanges a look of knowing with your father before he speaks loud and clear, “You are the princess of the second largest nation in our continent.” He states with a slightly quirked brow.

Which prompts you only to roll your eyes a bit.

“I believe you out of anyone else should understand the natural target that is placed on your back. Especially considering you are also the only princess in said continent. You’ve been at the age liable for marriage for a few years now and the reality of this has finally set in. The marriage itself is to join the East nation and the West into one. Should you refuse Naoya’s hand, he would simply join the two nations by…” A slight grimace is noticed within his expression, “Force.”

Yet another scoff falls softly from your lips, “You say this to me as if he is incapable of marrying a man. Surely, someone like Prince S—”

“Now is not the time to joke, my lady.” Yaga interrupts as gently as he can, “He could very well go on and marry into one of the other royal families but they do not rule over our nation, now do they? The east is the largest of them all, our sole rival. Do you not see the importance of this marriage taking place? It is either that or war and, as our queen has so clearly told you, we do not have the defenses to—”

“And what of the other nations? The north? The south? Hell, even the smallest out there; Middom? Is it not possible for us to rally our defenses with them and..” Your voice trails to an eventual fall as you notice the look on Yaga’s face. He doesn’t even have to cut you off this time for you to realize this conversation isn’t going anywhere.

You exhale and turn to your royal adviser who’s at your right side. Wide-set eyes and all, Higuruma merely offers you a nod of his head to silently console you. Like everyone else in this damn room, he was pleading for you to simply let this go and follow along with things like some pawn in everyone else’s game.

“You would rather go to war and risk the lives of thousands than marry this man?” Yaga adds on to question.

Your lips quirked and you looked at him again, “Do you want my honest answer to that?”

“No, I would like your noble answer.” He replies dryly.

“Tch.” You huff, your face flattening. “Of course I would do anything to avoid war, I am not cruel. But I do hope all of you realize what joint nations entail for our future—their laws and customs will be indoctrinated into our society overnight. And if you think I will have any influence over that then you clearly know not of the man I am to marry. The words of a woman carry no weight with him.”

Your father is the next to speak up, “We are well aware of what this means for our future. But, it is either that or… death.”

With a crisp, yet obviously faux smile, you nod to that. “Right. Well, if that is all,” You begin to bow your head for respect, “Mother, Father, I shall excuse myself.”

Then you swivel around to make your exit, only to be stopped by the queen’s voice once more. “That is all?” She asks.

You paused in your steps but did not turn back to face her. “I’m unsure of what other argument you expect from me, mother. I either marry him or we go to war, what more could I possibly say to that?”

The sound of her sighing can be heard. It was almost as though she’d truly expected or maybe even anticipated a longer refute from you. “...Just,” Her words come out in a slow fashion and you get the feeling that she may be able to read your thoughts. “None of your schemes tonight, please? If you’re truly on board with this then don’t do anything brash—”

“I wouldn’t dare.” You cut off rather rudely, turning slightly to then cut your eye at her. “Now, if you will excuse me.”

No more words are exchanged as you hastily make your way out of the room, only the sounds of your heels echoing through the large archways and halls heard as you do so.

· · ──────── ·𖥸· ──────── · ·

Moments after you’d made your exit, two people had now taken your sides and followed rather closely behind you. Too nervous to say anything just yet, they both simply follow your hurried steps toward wherever you were off to without a word.

One was your knight, who’d always followed close behind you since your teenage days, willing to throw herself into the face of death at any given moment simply for your sake. Tall, fit, blond, with a set of brown eyes any person could easily find themself lost in, stood Yuki Tsukumo proudly wearing that pristine royal guard uniform as her steps mirrored your own in speed.

Beside her was that pleasant royal advisor of yours, Higuruma Hiromi. Also quite tall (who wasn’t these days), wide, tired eyes, and a voice that typically drives you insane with annoyance given the number of lectures you’d received by it—he was careful to trail after you, given all that’d recently transpired.

It’s a long walk of silence before your beloved knight breaks it. “I assume things went unwell back there?” Yuki hums cautiously as she fully takes your right side, leaving Higuruma slightly behind you.

“Your assumption would be correct,” You huff almost instantly as if you’d been waiting for either of them to say something to you. “I am to be wed in six months.”

Seeing as Yuki wasn’t exactly in the room while things were explained to you, she’d hardly a clue as to what had you pacing down the halls in such a determined fashion as you did currently. “Wed? Six months?? To whom?” She rushed out in alarm, her expression quick to contort into deep concern and alarm.

“The heir to the Zenin throne,” You say with a long sigh following shortly after.

“You can say his name y’know,” Higuruma comments before appropriately taking your left side.

You roll your eyes, “I would rather drop dead.”

At that, his feet come to a sudden halt and you and Yuki follow suit. “My lady, I know you are not fond of your… situation, but, what else can we do by this point? He will officially propose tonight and unless you can find another prince to do so before him in the next few hours then—”

It was like a literal lightbulb had gone off above that tiara-adorned head of yours, sparking Yuki’s eyes to rake over the excitement that washed against your features.

“Oh my, that’s brilliant.” You gasp with a turn to your recently spoken advisor.

“I simply cannot imagine how—pardon?” He choked, “You do know he is the only member of a royal family attending tonight, right? You couldn't possibly hope to… find a better suitor beforehand and even if you did, his highness would not have it.”

Every word of his seems to go through one ear and out the other as you take a step closer to him, flash a smile, and then move your hand to his arm. “My finest of gratitude to you, Sir. Higuruma.”

His eyes seem to widen with pure confusion. “...I do not understand.”

“You play your role as my advisor well, thank you.” You proceed, not caring to elaborate in the slightest. Then you turn away and begin walking again, “I know what I must do.”

His feet stammer to follow you once more, “And what might that be, my lady? You promised your mother–, the queen, that you wouldn’t do anything brash.”

“It willn’t be ‘brash’ at all.” You chirp simply.

“Then what—”

Pausing only one last time, you glance back at your awfully confused advisor and send him a reassuring grin. “Have my lady-in-waiting arrive to my room within the hour, I have a ball to prepare for.”

With that, your walk continues. Higuruma tries to follow you but he’s stopped by a hand meeting his chest. His brows pinch together just as he looks down, finding Yuki’s palm hovering over his chest in a silent motion to get him to stop.

He then looks at her and opens his mouth to protest against everything that’d just happened but with a simple shake of her head before he could even get a word out, his shoulders sink and he ends up turning away with a huff.

· · ──────── ·𖥸· ──────── · ·

An hour does, in fact, fly by before you find yourself in the confines of your bedroom. With your feet meeting the soft cushions of a small stool, your head held high, and your mouth moving at such a rapid pace, you’d been venting to your lovely lady-in-waiting from the moment she’d arrived in your room.

“And the worst part of it all? If I am to marry that man then I will later be expected to carry an hier—fuck,” Your voice is cut short with a low curse as the strings securing the corset part of your dress are only pulled tighter from behind you. Your back straightens up a bit more than before and your voice pitches to a higher and breathier degree, “‘Hime, that’s… hah, too tight-, I can hardly breathe.”

She perks up from behind you and releases the strings from her grasp entirely, “Ah, I am so sorry, my lady!” The maiden gasps softly. Her fingers then trail upward along the fabric weaving through the corset holes and you feel her making steady adjustments. “I was so caught up in that story of yours that I uhm,” She loosens an area or two, allowing you a moment to breathe. “Got carried away… How’s this—better?”

You release a long exhale as your shoulders relax, “It’s much better now, as far as breathability is concerned. But,” Your eyes linger on the nearby propped up mirror and you ogle your figure closely. “Well, now it is too loose.”

In the mirror’s reflection, you notice those violet locks of hair resting atop her head sway to the right as her head tilts to study your figure from her angle better. “Hm. I see.” She utters to herself before taking hold of those strings once more. “I’m going to tighten it again, are you ready for it this time?”

With a nod, you glance back at her and raise your thumb up. “Mhm, pull until I say stop.”

Her hands begin to do just that, slowly pulling the strings to tighten the piece once more. As she gives her softened tugs, her eyes lift to your face and she watches the way a hitched breath leaves your lips. “Too tight?”

“Did I say stop?” You ask lightheartedly.

She shakes her head, “No, but–”

“Utahime,” You breathe her entire name so suddenly that her hands come to a halt immediately. “Keep pulling.”

Probably with some form of nervousness under your direct gaze and commanding tone, her head drops and she focuses her eyes back down to her hands—giving you one firm tug that makes your body jerk backward ever so slightly. You gasp, again, and this time a hand of yours moves back to grab her wrist.

“Right there,” You utter, “That is perfect, thank you.”

Utahime stares at your grasp on her wrist for a moment longer than necessary before clearing her throat and sealing that tightly pulled fabric with an appropriate knot. Then, she removes her hands from your dress entirely and takes a step back. “Well uh-, as you were saying, my lady?”

You’re busy twisting and turning slightly to gather your appearance in the mirror before you respond, oblivious to the nearby eyes also gathering your frame. “Oh, yes, I would be expected to deliver an heir not too long after I am married. Knowing my parents and the Zenin family, both I and the man I am to marry would ascend the throne mere weeks after the wedding. The very next thing that follows that would be…”

“Having his child,” Utahime finishes for you, her voice disappointed—for your sake. “I’m sorry to hear of this, truly. I wish there were something I could do to help.”

You chuckle before stepping off of that small stool you’d been posted upon, striding over to your nearby dresser, and popping open a box of jewelry. “Fret not, ‘Hime,” You console with a dismissive wave of your hand. “I will not marry any Zenin man. Not in this life, nor the next.”

She paces over to you and dips her hand into that recently opened box, “So, what will you do?”

“Good question.” Protrudes Yuki, who’s been leaning against the doorframe of your bedroom listening for quite some time now. “I am really just dying to know what that big plan of yours is.” She scoffs, earning your glance. She nods her chin to you slightly, “I saw the look in your eyes earlier so, tell me, princess… what’re you plannin’?”

The smile that spreads across your face was much too bright for you to fight, “Like everyone else, you two will find out tonight.”

Your knight’s eyes roll as she pushes off the frame and begins to approach you and Utahime. “Awh, don’t do that. The last ‘scheme’ you pulled off—”

“Got you your current position as my knight, if I’m not mistaken, Lady Tsukumo.” You adjourn as Utahime swipes up the corresponding jewelry to your dress and begins to assist in accessorizing you.

Yuki only gets closer before posting herself against the wall nearest to the dresser you stand at. She gives you a firm stare, receiving a matching one from you, before instead focusing her gaze on the necklace currently being fastened around your neck. “Touché. But it was reckless.”

“Harmless,” You correct with a shrug. “I mean, really, God forbid a woman gets what she wants through slightly drastic measures.”

She looks around the room for a moment before tutting. “You put yourself in harm's way just to test my capabilities.”

“I put myself in harm’s way to prove your capabilities to those who doubted,” You correct for a second time, flawlessly. “Plus, that was years ago. I won’t go to any lengths like that this time around, the safety of my nation is on the line. Just know I have an idea I may act on.”

Yuki can’t help the worry etched onto her face as she only questions you further, “And this idea is safe?”

Smiling still, “No ideas are ‘safe’ for women in this day and age.” You remind her.

Silence befalls upon the room and even Utahime’s fingers pause on the clasp of your necklace that she’d been struggling with for the past few minutes. Her eyes soon glide over to Yuki and they exchange a look, their thoughts mutual within the quietude.

After that briefness passes, Yuki’s voice softens and she leans toward you ever so slightly, “So then, perhaps you shouldn’t act on it?”

Your face twists up as if you were offended, “And marry that coxcomb?” To which Utahime snorts. “Over our dead bodies.” You huff.

The air seems to have lightened up and Yuki grins, “‘Our’..?”

“You’ve said you would die for me, yes?”

She hums, “Without hesitation.”

“Then, yes, our.”

Utahime’s accessorizing comes to an end as she finally gets that clasp in order and takes a step back—pulling you to turn around to face her, and then taking in your prepared appearance. “Perfect.” She chirps.

“Gorgeous,” Yuki adds beneath her breath with a faint cock of her head.

You’re left smiling at the hushed compliments from the two before hearing a telling knock on your bedroom door, followed by the voice of someone informing you that guests are beginning to arrive for tonight's event. You hadn’t even realized how much time you’d spent venting to Utahime and getting ready for the dreaded ball and now, the sun was on its journey to set and it was time for said ball to actually take place.

Sometimes, you forget how fast time seems to move when you are in distress. You soon reply to the quick announcement you’d been given and you and your two accompanying ladies begin to make haste toward exiting your bedroom.

Faint worry remains on both Utahime and Yuki’s face as they follow your lead but they make no more vocal arguments about it. Yuki trusts your judgement, to some degree, and Utahime is moreso frightened for what the future holds for you regarding this arrangement.

· · ──────── ·𖥸· ──────── · ·

All doubts and worries entirely aside, by the time you indulge yourself in the festivities of the ball graciously hosted by your parents, your internalized fear for how things may go seems to fade. That timeless ballroom music you’d been surrounded by all your life floats through the air along with the sound of laughter and chatter from the lavish guests who’ve traveled from all over just to be here.

These glorified parties are a repetitive cycle you’ve been forced to grow accustomed to but, you’ve never minded them much until today. The entire time you socialized with the many aristocrats and members of high-class families, you couldn’t help but feel anxious. No one seemed to mention Naoya or his family to you, which led you to wonder if earlier that morning had merely been some lucid nightmare of yours…

Surely if this engagement were to take place tonight and had been planned out long before you were privy to it, someone would have mentioned it or even asked if you were excited for it by now. Unless all those around you were just as aware as you are of how dreadful a family the Zenins were..?

Or hell, maybe people were told not to say anything to you—

It’s then that someone bumps into your back, nearly causing you to choke on the bubbly beverage you’d been sipping on for the past few minutes. And just when you thought you’d scored a moment of peace for yourself…

An overwhelming sum of cologne slithers into your nose and although the smell is quite pleasant, clearly its wearer had sprayed far too much on themself—leading you to cough in an attempt to clear both your nose and your throat. Then, with an arm raised slightly over your face, you turn to whoever just bumped into you.

You don’t know what hits you first, the abrupt sight of him or that grating tone of his. “I swear you people have no sense of awareness. Has your sense of sight failed you, leaving you unable to see that I was clearly—oh,” Naoya grouses, his upper lip lifting faintly in a twinge of disgust. “It’s you.” He diverts, silently revoking his words prior out of what little respect he holds for you.

As unfortunate as it is, you have to drag your gaze upward to meet his. Just then, you mentally curse whoever's responsible for his mere existence because it should truly be a crime to be that painfully attractive, especially considering how all that typically flies out the window the moment he opens his mouth. You think your breath hitches at first sight of him.

Perhaps it was the proximity, considering he’d just bumped into you and made no efforts to back away after but, either way, he is undeniably… quite handsome. You have to blink thrice to register that this is the same rude man you’d last seen years ago, who you definitely do not remember being this… yeah, you won’t be throwing him any more compliments—albeit they’re all mental, as of now.

In the same way you seem to be taken aback by his appearance, he unconsciously weighs his head to the side as he drinks-, more like, gulps in your appearance. His eyes run up and down your face at least four times before he looks further down, in an attempt to glance at the necklace you have on, only to find himself leering at your chest and whatever cleavage you had visible. And, to say the least, if anything is mutual between the two of you, it’s definitely the attraction.

You decide to work up your usual confidence to speak, having reminded yourself who exactly you're looking at right now. “My eyes are up—“

“I know where your eyes are, woman.” Naoya cuts off with such a quickness that your head cocks back in immediate offense. But, before you can say anything else, he clears his throat and you watch him squeeze his eyes shut. “Pardon me,” He grits out, the words sounding as though it pained him to speak them. “I wasn’t expecting you to be so…” His eyes flutter open and he inhales strongly before cutting his intake off with a cough. “Close.” Is the last word he breathes out to you.

Your eyes remain on him and his every facial shift—the way he pulls his head back, takes another deep breath, bats his lashes elsewhere for a moment, brings his fist to his lips to cough again, and then shakes himself out of whatever that all was. You’re left unsure of what his body language translates to but you don’t believe you have it in you to care considering the way he starts talking again.

“Anyway,” Noaya straightens up where he stands and finally looks down at you (literally and mentally), “Let’s make this quick since I’ve finally found you, yeah?”

You raise a brow and move to cross your arms, “Does that imply that you were searching for me?”

His lips twitch, “No.”

“Some fiancé you’ll be…” You grumble out to him, to which he snorts.

“Just lend me your hand so I can propose, we’ve eyes on us.” He tells you rather quickly and quietly. You didn’t even realize how long your attention was on him before you blinked and looked around, finding the eyes of many lingering on you and him.

Oh. So people were aware of his upcoming proposal…

With a heavy sigh, you glance at him once more and he’s got this cunning look plastered all over his face. “I believe a man is to drop down on one knee to propose, no?” You ask almost dryly.

Naoya’s brows twist up, “You expect me to get on my knees for the likes of you?”

You shrug off his rudeness, “How else are you to propose?”

“You give me your hand and I slide this ring on your finger,” He tells you with a steadily lowering voice, dipping a hand into his pocket.

You honestly cannot believe the constant audacity that simply oozes off of this man. It’s as though he expects everything in his life to be served to him on a silver platter. “I will offer out my hand to no man who refuses to at least get down on one knee for me.” You tell him simply, your confidence not wavering in the slightest.

His left eye twitches in pure irritation. “I refuse to do anything ‘for you’.”

“Then I refuse to marry you.” You shrug.

He scoffs right in your face, “You haven’t the liberty.”

You huff back, “How can I be expected to marry a man who’s yet to propose?”

“You—“ Naoya grits his teeth and looks to the high ceilings for a moment before groaning slightly. He eventually returns his eyes to you and you can tell he’s over this entire thing. “Does compliance come this difficult for all women?”

“Does arrogance come this naturally from all men?” It’s from here that the two of you glare each other down while bickering back and forth as if it were second nature.

“Must you have a rebuttal for everything I say?”

“Depends on how long you take to propose to me like a proper gentleman.”

He pauses for a split second before sassily rolling his eyes, “You irritate me.”

“I’ve hardly done anything,” You reply with a lighthearted chuckle.

“Is shutting up something you’re incapable of?”

Dismissing him for the first time, you begin to look elsewhere. “Are you going to propose or not? I don’t have all night.”

Naoya swears he’s seconds away from tossing the ring in his hands into the nearest trashcan and declaring war because surely that would be much simpler than getting you to go along with things, “Don’t rush me.”

“You’re the one who said to make this quick,” You remind the man, noticing the distant gaze of both your parents and his.

The prince in front of you grits his teeth again, “I—“

“So hurry up.” Your hand waves in a dismissive manner as you turn your head back to him, “Get on your knees, Zenin.”

He’s clearly physically incapable of accepting any sort of orders from you without having anything to say so, “Address me by my first name.” Is what leaves his lips shortly after.

“I will not.” You deny.

He flashes a knowing smirk, “You must.”

“Or what?”

“Or I will discard this act of peace and declare w—“

“Fine,” You choke out, almost in fear. “Naoya… if you wish for me to be your wife in six months' time then you will drop to one knee and propose to me, properly.”

He finally begins to lower down to one knee, speaking in a harsh whisper, “The excess was unnecessary.”

“I care little of what you deem unnecessary.” You utter right back.

“I care little about you.”

“Good.”

Whipping the ring out quickly and assuming the perfect position below you, he glares, “Be my wife.”

You wish you had a way to capture how he looks right now. Naoya being on his knees is a sight no one can say they’ve ever had the pleasure of seeing before so, naturally, many of the onlookers begin to gasp and share gossiping whispers to one another.

You keep your voice low but many watch your mouth move, “Is that how you propose? No wonder you’ve yet to find a woman before me…”

Naoya’s fingers pinch the ring held up to you tighter and you notice a vein pop out along his sharp jawline, “This arrangement was not by my personal choice. Now, do me… the honor, and…” He waits a moment before raising his voice so that those nearby can hear, “Marry me.”

You deadpan, “It sounds like you’re demanding me—“

“Jesus-, fuck, woman!” He curses unintentionally with a momentary drop of his head. Before you can let out the laugh his reaction invokes, he flips his gaze right back up to you and looks you dead in the eye as he speaks in a firm tone, “Will you marry me?”

For the first time since he’s ever known you, you smile at him—causing his body to feel… weird. He thinks he hates that stupidly gorgeous spread of lips and flash of teeth that starks across your face. Then, your hand is held out to him and you nod. “I suppose.”

He narrows his eyes at you and doesn’t move.

You roll your own. “Yes, I… accept your proposal.”

Not wasting any more time whatsoever, Naoya practically shoves the ring onto your finger, his touch oddly as smooth as silk against you. “Finally. Now—“

“Under one condition.” You add on with a very slight retraction of your hand.

“Condition??” His brows meet and his eyes frantically travel over to where both your parents stand, “I was not informed that this would come with any—“

“No one knew of any until now,” You say as you lean down a bit.

He groans, “What is it?”

It’s almost as though there was some sort of shift within your tone. As Naoya moves his eyes back to you, he finds your entire presence wildly different in comparison to a few seconds ago. And the darkened look you hold in your eyes, the way that smile of yours had yet to fade—just what could you possibly have planned in that feeble mind of yours??

“I would like to curate a harem for myself during our engagement,” You requested.

Naoya fights internally to hold back the shocked laugh he’d almost let out in your face, “Why am I not surprised the wench wishes for a harem of all things…”

You let out an offended breath, “Excuse me—“

“Sure,” He scoffs, sizing you up and down as he quickly raises to his feet. “You can make your lil’ harem. Run around and tarnish your reputation all you want but, that will not be enough for me to end this engagement.”

Back up to his feet, he finds himself looming toward you and surprised by how unmoving you are, “I don’t plan on it.”

Naoya only inches closer, “Must every last word be yours?” He asks, breath fanning over your skin with a faint scent of… mint?

You respond silently with a thin-lipped smile, mentally discarding how you keep picking up on such small details.

To which a vein in his forehead makes a sudden appearance, “Oh you little—“

“Let us all congratulate the happy couple!” A voice, Higuruma’s, chimes in, “A joyous union this’ll be for our nations!” He announces quickly.

People rush to swarm you and Naoya within seconds, celebratory wishes and congratulations thrown at you from left and right as if this was truly some big surprise. Perhaps it was the fact that Naoya was actually able to propose to you and you were able to accept it without… anything else taking place instead.

So, you suppose you have something to celebrate now. Your request for a harem was approved without any question whatsoever. Perfect. You may not have had the time to get anyone of royal status to propose to you before Naoya did, especially considering it would take an act of love for someone to do so in the first place but, you sure as hell just bought yourself some.

m!list | next chapter |

tags 1/2;

@angellliqua @celestial-lunar @withcheese @itoshi-r @silvarys @everything-red @fishosezo @haesify @sassybananaweaselpsychic @orange-juice-is-ass

@notjustagirlinthisworld @sushiimara @larkson0 @di-in-al @sxnkuna @hanuh @cayla0000 @helloxkittylo @idkmanshrugg @chocolatecheer

@michelintopic @cinaminroll @french3xit @valleydoli @broimherebcsimboredok @sleepisforpuzzies @cuti3patooti8 @sukunadckrider @f0r7una @ventila98

@vixionix @levislug @mauve-gojo @chosomi @semi-lover @bee3l0v3r @noooo-onee @r4sh3li @yenayaps @chososbestgirl

@smutyturtle @simp-plague @pnkblueberry @stargirl-mayaa @kunareads @tojisdollx @gojoslefttoenail @forbiddenblog @glittercherry777 @samm1e13

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shegatsby · 1 year ago

Text

Love Thy Enemy

Summary; Y/N Atreides had always been a stranger to the entire galaxy, her bed wasn’t her bed, her home wasn’t her home due to the fact that she was sent to accompany and be sisters with Irulan. She had limited access to her actual family and over the years they grew distant. She thought she would be like Reverend Mother, alone, yet powerful, and soon she would realize that there was no need of being alone when a wild creature had his eyes on her for a long time.

A/N; HI!!! Its been a long time since I wrote a series but i cannot resist Feyd. English isn''t my first language so go easy on me. There will be smut in the future chapters. TAG LIST IS OPEN!!!!!! (Reader has a lover and Feyd's going to find out lol 😉😉😉)

Warnings; None. Female Bene Gesserit Reader x Feyd-Rautha, enemies to lovers! reader is reffered to as she/her.

Words; 1.520K

Chapter 2

Chapter One – ‘’Meeting in flesh and blood’’

‘’Right behind you!’’ Irulan screamed as she was riding her horse to match Y/N’s. Y/N was a skilled rider, the wind in her long hair, she laughed at Irulan’s attempt of winning the race and focused on the finish line. Planet Kaitian which was the second Capital of the Corrino Empire had so many opportunities for Padishah Emperor Shaddam’s daughter Irulan and his beloved Y/N. The planet had forests, lakes and rivers so Y/N didn’t miss much of her home planet Caladan, she sometimes tossed and turned in her bed thinking of her family members but she was taken to Kaitain years ago. Irulan and Y/N were the same age and when Shaddam couldn’t have more children he asked Duke Leto Atreides to bring his first born daughter to be sisters with Irulan. Leto tried to find so many ways to refuse Padishah Emperor yet he was the ultimate power in the entire galaxy and Leto had no choice but to give his daughter Y/N. She was one years old when the arrangements were made. She could see her family at political events or celebrations, she had been in Caladan few times yet she felt stranger to the planet and she felt stranger to Kaitain as well. She has always wondered if, by any chance one day she would feel the sensation of ‘’being at home’’ nowhere and no one was her home. Maybe this was her fate.

When she finished the race her horse calmed down, Irulan followed behind. ‘’I swear you’re cheating and I am going to find out.’’ She was joking of course, Irulan and Y/N had a close relationship yet Y/N never forgot that she was a princess and there for needed to be treated more cautiously than the other lords and ladies of the galaxy. Together they hopped off of their horses, ‘’Walk with me.’’ Irulan’s voice was soft yet direct. Her short blonde hair got messy, hem of her white long dress covered in mud, she was carefree when she was with Y/N.

Y/N had the color of her house Atreides. Green. Her green dress felt so light, they were walking on the grass for few minutes in silence., Y/N knew that Irulan wanted to say something.

Palace’s gardens were evergreen, gardeners achieved perfection. Gardens smelled of flowers at any time of the year. Irulan stopped in her tracks, they turned to soak in the scenery before their eyes, the entire planet was under their feet. Servants’ chatters could be heard, no matter what they were never alone. ‘’Soon my father will throw a ball for me.’’ She looked distant, Padishah Emperor Shaddam never had parties without a solid reason, it must be political. Before Y/N could ask Irulan explained simply, ‘’I will meet the man I have to marry.’’ Y/N knew one day that she had to marry someone in order to protect the power they had over the galaxy but she never thought the date would come this quick. Y/N had already a lover, only Irulan knew because he was from a lower house. She had a childish hope that one day she would marry him.

Irulan laughed in sarcasm, ‘’How I wish to be you, sister!’’ it was obvious that Irulan dreaded the situation.

There were no arrangements for Y/N and she was free for a long time or so she thought.

‘’I trust in Emperor’s decision. He won’t wed you to someone unworthy.’’ She tried to encourage her dear friend but Irulan stood there like a stone. ‘’Let’s head back.’’ Y/N said. A hollow silence followed them to the dining hall. Emperor couldn’t attend because he was dealing with preparations of the ball. The white marble fire place was lit and orange colors danced in the room, the dining hall was adorned with lavish furniture and a long wooden table. The wood came from Giedi Prime, it was called Pilingitam.

Irulan seemed troubled, ‘’What’s on your mind sister?’’ Y/N asked. She was concerned for her, if she knew that she had to be concerned for herself…

She watched Irulan’s palm slithering on the Pilingitam table,’’ Majority of the houses will be at the ball,’’ she looked up to meet Y/N’s curious eyes, ‘’The Harkonnens will be too.’’ Y/N’s blood ran cold, she remembered the times where Emperor used to take them to Giedi Prime for political reasons. They had to sit and watch the games in the black and white arena. Gladiators killing each other…

She remembered a boy with pure blue eyes and full lips, ‘’I will fight there too when I’m old enogh.’’ He was sitting next to Y/N in his black outfit. He closed the tiny gap between him and Y/N, and he spoke quietly, ‘’Will you come and watch me?’’ he was speaking as if killing was a normal act. His knee touching Y/N’s, she remembered distinctly that the boy interlaced his little finger with hers. They were ten and yet Y/N could see Baron Vladimir’s influence on his poor nephew.

Y/N didn’t need to go back in her memories to detest the Harkonnens. Their families were in and out of war for centuries. Thankfully for a long time peace was kept. ‘’I will manage.’’ She insured Irulan with a genuine smile yet it wasn’t enough. Y/N brushed it off, after dinner she had mental training anyways.

Until the day of the ball she corresponded with her lover, Pyramus

He was a tall man with dark curls and jet black eyes. His beard always tickled her face.

She spent her days training and accompanying Irulan. Irulan grew restless as the they approached.

One by one the ships started to arrive, one could look up to the busy blue sky and see. Y/N’s family arrived early to see her and spend time with her. Lady Jessica, her mother, immediately questioned her about Y/N’s Bene Gesserit training, Duke Leto was happy to see her daughter once again. Paul, her one year younger brother gave her a tight hug.

They were united once more, she escorted them to their quarters in the palace and retrieved to get ready for the event. She wore a green dress with emeralds on her chest and waist, her maid braided her hair in Atreides style. She also wore an emerald tiara. Paul Atreides knocked on her door to escort her to the ball room, he looked sharp in his dark green suit. ‘’You seem nervous.’’ He questioned, -Y/N knew that her mother was teaching Bene Gesserit ways to her brother,- yes she was nervous because she was going to be reunited with her lover. ‘’Too many people.’’ She responded. Servants were running with food and wine on the corridors, music could be heard from a distance. Members of houses were having conversations about spice, politics, etc.

The doors of the room were open, inside was lit by the yellow warm lights coming from glowglobes, guests laughing and drinking. Tallest member was Baron Vladimir due to hanging in the air, eating like a mad man but she ignored him.

Her eyes searching for her lover, so blind to an outsider who got her under his radar.

Paul and Y/N walked to the table of their house, ‘’You look lovely my girl.’’ Duke Leto kissed her daughter’s forehead, it didn’t go unnoticed by a certain someone. He was a snake, silently slithering close to his prey.

Padishah Emperor Shaddam and his daughter Princess Irulan were announced and slowly entered the room, everyone bowed. They took their seats and Emperor greeted everyone, thanked them for coming to his feast and he also announced that he would choose the life partner of his daughter among his unmarried male guests. Duke Leto found himself watching his daughter with sad eyes, he wondered if he could see her wedding one day. Would she be happy and fortunate like him? Only time would tell but he prayed quietly.

It was time to dance, couples held each others’ hands and marched to the dance floor, Paul excused himself and went to ask the princess to dance with him. Leto happily asked Jessica to dance with him, Y/N wished that they were officially married but to keep his position as a powerful bachelor, other houses worked for him hoping that one day Duke Leto would marry one of their daughters. It was a well played game of chess on Atreides’s part. Y/N watched Irulan and Paul talking silently and dancing.

Soon Pyramus came with a huge smile. He kissed her hand and winked at her, ‘’My beautiful lady, would you be so kind and accompany me on the dance floor?’’ she tried so hard not to grin, ‘’Of course my lord.’’ He was in his house’s color, yellow. Hand in hand they mingled among the other couples, ‘’I’ve missed you.’’ He whispered. ‘’Not here.’’ She used the voice on him and his mouth closed in a second. Only their eyes talked.

They heard a rough cough and turned to face the intruder, Y/N had no idea that she would meet him in flesh and blood, ‘’Feyd…’’

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albertasunrise · 7 months ago

Text

Work Wife - Five

Masterlist

Summary: Working as a Secretary at Miller & Sons Construction, you fall hopelessly in love with the eldest son Joel. What you don’t realise is that Joel’s completely in love with you too. What will it take for the two of you to realise whats’s right in front of you?

Pairing: Young Joel Miller x Reader

Warnings: Like AO3, I choose not to give any so the plot isn’t spoiled. This fic is 18+ (So… I decided I couldn’t leave this fic the way I had, before buggering off for a week… finished my book and had some time to kill in the evenings so managed to get this written 🥹… I do wanna give one warning for this particular chapter… If anyone is triggered by anything pregnancy related, read at your own risk. I apologise in advance, this chapter is pretty heavy but it will all come together I promise ♥️)

Series Masterlist - One Two Three Four

“You said yes?” Joel asked, frowning when you nodded in reply.

“Why?”

“Because we’re having a baby Joel!” You growled back

“Do you love him?”

“No, but-”

“So you’ll marry a man you don’t love because he knocked you up but won’t be with me?” He spat “You claim to be in love with me and I told you I’m in love with you but you decided that we’re no good for each other and carried on your casual relationship with Ant. Now you’re pregnant and marrying him?”

“Joel-“

“You never even gave us a chance.” He choked, hurt saturating his tone. “You never gave me a chance to fight for us.”

“We’re not good for each other Joel!” You argued and he let out an exasperated sigh as he ran his hand through his hair for what must have been the hundredth time that evening.

“How do you know?” he growled. “When we’re together, we are amazing! We make each other laugh and smile, and Sarah adores you… I know you love her.”

“It’s not that simple Joel.” You choked “I’m pregnant with another man's child!”

“And I will love it as if it were my own!” He argued, “If you give me a chance I will love you and that baby with every fibre of my being.”

“What about Ant?”

“Does he love you?” Joel asked and you shook your head.

“I don’t think so.”

“So you’re both willing to spend the rest of your lives in a loveless marriage, just because he got you pregnant?” Joel’s statement made you pause.

He was right. It wasn’t fair to either of you. Ant deserved to spend his life with a woman he loved and you deserved to marry the man of your dreams. Yet there was a baby to think about now.

“I’ll need to talk to Ant about this.” You stated plainly and Joel nodded.

“That’s all I ask.”

You both sat in a tense sort of silence for a while. Neither of you knew what to say. Joel watched you as you hugged yourself tighter, resting your chin on your knees.

“Are you happy?” He asked and you looked at him with a quizzical expression “About the baby?”

“I guess.” You replied with a shrug “I’ve always wanted to be a mum but I had hoped I’d be married first. Maybe a little older.” You paused, looking away again and fixing your gaze on something Joel couldn’t see “With the man I love.” You said quietly as silent tears started to slip down your cheeks.

“You were there for me when Sarah was thrust into my life.” He said as he stood up and made his way over to you, sitting down and pulling you into his arms “I will be here for you too! We’ll get through this together.”

“Really?” You asked, looking up at him through your lashes.

“I promise.”

You smiled at him, gave him a slight nod then rested your head on his chest. Soaking in the solid, calming presence of him.

“I’m scared Joel.” You choked, snuggling in closer to him.

“I know sweetheart.” He said softly as he placed a tender kiss on the crown of your head “But everything is gonna be okay.”

…

You didn’t go to the aquarium with Joel, but he wasn’t all that surprised. Come Monday morning you were back at your desk and putting on a brave face. Joel had promised not to mention the baby to anyone for the time being.

“I’m not going to marry Ant.” You informed him over lunch that afternoon.

“No?”

“You were right.” You confessed as you steeped your peppermint teabag in the mug in your hands, dunking the teabag in and out of the boiling water “We don’t love each other and it would be wrong to trap each other in a loveless marriage. Not fair on us or the baby.”

Joel nodded but didn’t say anything.

“He wants to be involved though. We’re going to try and work out a schedule once the baby’s arrived.”

“It’s great that he wants to be involved.” Joel piped up and you nodded and smiled in agreement.

“It’s not the way either of us wanted this to happen but there’s a baby’s coming and we’re going to love them all the same.”

“Of course you will.” Joel beamed, giving you a warm smile.

“There was something I wanted to ask you.” You confessed after a short pause.

“Shoot.”

“I booked an ultrasound. It's in a month and wondered if you would come with me?” You asked shyly, looking up at Joel through your lashes.

“Can’t Ant go?”

“He’ll be back at College by then so won’t be able to get back for it.” You answered nervously “I get it if you don’t want to come but I just thought-“

“Of course, I will come with you.” Joel stopped your rambling, placing a hand on yours “We’re in this together remember?”

“I remember.” You choked and he smiled sweetly at you.

“How far along will you be by then?” He asked and you gave him a sheepish look as you answered.

“Around 13 weeks.”

“So he knocked you up…”

“The night we went for drinks, yeah.” You confessed.

“We were a bit drunk and, apparently, not very careful.”

“Pip-“

“I know what you’re gonna say Joel and you’re right but in my defence… I was cut up over Simon and I was just looking for some meaningless rebound sex.”

“Hey, I’m not exactly one to judge.” Joel chuckled “Didn’t even know I’d gotten Eliza pregnant!”

“Was wrong of her to keep that from you.”

“It was.” He agreed “But she gave me Sarah and I wouldn’t change that for the world.”

“She’s a pretty special girl.”

“That she is.” He agreed with a grin.

“Thank you, Joel.”

“For what?” He asked with a confused smile.

“For everything.” You replied with a shrug “For talking me out of marrying a man I don’t love… for helping me keep my head.”

“You did the same for me.”

“Yeah but… I’ve made a lot of dumb fucking decisions lately. After the breakup with Simon, confessing my feelings to you and finding out you had a baby… I just kinda lost sight of shit for a while.”

“I haven’t exactly made stellar decisions either.”

“Well no but… despite me pushing you away, you’ve stuck by me and I… I’m just really glad you’re in my life.”

“I always will be.” He assured you, leaning forward in his chair “No matter what happens between us. I will always be here.”

You gave him a tearful nod and a small smile. Glad of your tea occupy your shaky hands. Things were scary and uncertain but you felt confident that Joel would stick by you no matter what and that in turn, made you wonder if not being together was the right decision after all.

…

You were just finishing giving Sarah her bottle when Joel emerged with two plates piled high with slices of pepperoni pizza.

“My hero.” You cooed at Sarah and you popped her over your shoulder and rubbed her back to coax out the burp you knew would follow. It had taken a few tries to find the best way to pull them out of her but after trying out many different techniques; back rubbing came out on top.

“How’s the sickness?” He asked as he placed your plate down on the table beside you.

“It’s, basically, completely disappeared.” You replied, “Thought it usually went on longer but I guess it can ease off sooner.”

“Have you spoken to your OB about it?”

Joel asked, trying to hide his concern at the fact your symptoms seemed to have vanished. Your scan was in a few days and you were a mixture of excited and terrified.

“I haven’t. Not had any concerning symptoms so I’m sure everything is okay.”

Joel nodded, giving you a small smile before you returned your attention to Sarah who was kicking and stomping away in her rocker you’d just placed her in.

“I am convinced she’s trying to march somewhere.” You chuckled as you placed her bottle down and picked up a slice of pizza.

“As soon as she’s able to walk we’re going to be in big trouble.’ Joel chuckled, not noticing how you had tensed at the word ‘we’.

You hadn’t spoken about the potential relationship that Joel and laid on the table a month ago. You had decided it was probably best to focus on the baby for the time being and perhaps revisit the conversation once you knew all was well.

Joel had already started to talk about how Sarah would react to a little brother or sister, and it both warmed you and terrified you in equal measure. You were thrilled to know that if you and Joel did decide to pursue a relationship with each other, he was all in with this baby. It also scared you how ready he was to take on another man's child. Would he change his mind further down the line?

He and Ant looked nothing alike which meant that when this baby was born, it wasn't going to look anything like him. Would he decide then that he didn't want to raise a child that wasn't his? You knew these thoughts were unreasonable. Joel was probably more excited about this baby than you were.

But...

That didn't stop the nagging voice in the back of your mind that told you that this man was too good to be true. Despite knowing him for several years and seeing how perfect he truly was, your hormones wanted to scare you… plant doubt in your heart.

"You're thinkin' loudly." Joel chuckled, pulling you from your thoughts.

"Just got a lot on my mind is all." You confessed. It wasn't a complete lie.

You and Ant had been speaking on the phone about him potentially moving in for a few months after the baby was born so that he could help. You knew Joel would hate that idea but you wanted to be fair to Ant. This was his baby just as much as it was yours and if he wanted to be there to help with night feeds and nappy changes then you were willing to let him.

"Wanna share with the class?" He asked and you shrugged in reply "You don't have to tell me." He said then before picking up another slice of pizza "Just know that I am here to listen. Whatever you wanna talk about."

"I know Joel." You replied with a small smile.

Sarah's screeching pulled your and Joel's attention back to her. She was grinning at the two of you and you felt like the girl knew that you loved each other. You pictured her doting over the baby growing inside of you. She'd be coming up to her first birthday by the time your little one was born. It was exciting to think about how they would grow up together. Perhaps Joel would build them a castle in the backyard so they can play and explore and expand their imaginations. When you thought about that future you saw it with Joel by your side. Perhaps a few years down the line, you may have a baby of your own. When Sarah and this little bean were a little older. It was a nice mental picture.

One that the more you thought about it, the more you yearned for it.

Perhaps it was time to revisit that conversation with Joel. He hadn't pushed you for anything. He was patient and supportive but you know it must be killing him, desperate to know how you felt about him. So you decided then and there that after your scan you would have that conversation with him. He deserved to have his mind put at ease. It was the least you could do for him.

...

Joel drove you to your appointment, his old rock playing through the speakers as Austin's streets shot past the window.

"Ant asked if he could move in with me after the baby's born." You piped up, unsure why you were bringing it up now.

"Oh?"

"It will be purely platonic." You assured him "He just wants to be there to help for the first few months. Take some of the load off."

"That seems fair."

"He's the baby's father and I feel like he deserves to be there."

"You're right." Joel's answer surprised you and you looked at him in shock, your mouth flapping as you tried to figure out what to say "If the wind changes your face'll stay like that." Joel chuckled, pulling you from your shocked state.

"You're not angry at the idea?"

"Why would I be?" Joel seemed genuinely confused.

"Just thought... Well, I assumed that you'd hate the idea."

"I get it." Joel replied, "I know if I was in his shoes with Sarah I would have wanted that option."

"So you're okay with it?"

"Do I have any right not to be?" He asked and you shrugged.

"Guess not."

"Look, we haven't made any promises to each other. Sure I hope that further down the line we might talk about us again but I understand that you have bigger things to worry about right now."

"Yeah?" You asked and he nodded.

"I will be waiting for when you're ready Pip." He stated with a smile that made your heart race "No pressure from me."

...

You were nervous as you sat in the waiting room and waited for your name to be called. Joel was a calming presence beside you. His hand holding yours and his arm resting gently against yours acting as an anchor, keeping you rooted in the choppy ocean of your mind. When your name was called you looked up at the nurse and smiled, giving her a shy wave and standing up, Joel's hand staying firmly in yours as you followed her into the examination room.

You were so nervous.

Up until this point, the only evidence you had that you were pregnant was the four pregnancy tests that you had taken. All firmly confirming that you were pregnant. You had felt foolish that you had failed to notice that you had missed a period but you had been so caught up in this whirlwind relationship with Ant that you had thought nothing of it. Now you were living with those consequences.

"So is this dad?" The nurse asked as she prepped the machine, pulling out the equipment she needed to perform the procedure.

"Just a friend." Joel replied, giving your hand a friendly squeeze.

"The father is back at College for his final year so Joel kindly came with me today." You said, "Baby wasn't exactly planned." You confessed sheepishly, pulling a chuckle from the nurse.

"They hardly ever are these days." She stated and that relaxed you. Glad that there was no judgment of your situation.

"Father to an unplanned baby, sitting right here so I can attest to that." Joel chuckled and you smiled brightly at him.

"Right well, the gel might feel a little cold so sorry in advance." She said sweetly "If you could lift your shirt and pull your trousers down a little."

You did as she bid and let out a shaky breath as you waited for her to start the examination. Holding Joel's hand tightly, you looked only at him and not the screen.

There was silence for some time. The probe slid around your pelvis, digging in at points for her, you assumed, to get a better look at your baby. When Joel's expression grew concerned, you looked over at the nurse and noted that her expression wasn't so jovial anymore.

"Are they okay?" You asked as your heart leapt into your throat.

The nurse gave you a tight smile as she said "I just need to fetch a doctor a moment."

"Why do you need a doctor?" You push and she shakes her head.

"I just want to get a second opinion before we confirm anything.

"What the fucks going on?" Joel growled and you squeezed his hand tighter, rolling your head and locking his eyes with your tearful ones.

"Just a moment." The nurse repeated as she got up from her seat and walked from the room.

It felt like an eternity before she returned with a female doctor in tow.

"I'm Doctor Sims." She said sweetly "Nurse Roberts has asked me to take a look at baby if thats okay?"

You nodded then watched as she took up the nurse's seat and resumed the examination. Hers taking a lot less time than the first. You could see it in her eyes.

It wasn't good news.

"I am so sorry to inform you that there is no heartbeat." The doctor confirmed and your heart shattered "From these scans, it appears that they stopped developing after around 8 or 9 weeks."

Around the time your morning sickness disappeared.

"We call this a silent miscarriage." The doctor continued "It's when the embryo or fetus dies but the body doesn't expel them."

A tight silence fell over the room for a while whilst you processed what the doctor was telling you. Your baby was dead.

The life you were growing that you had just started to get your head around was no longer thriving in your womb. The life you had imagined with Joel and Sarah had disappeared in a puff of smoke.

"What happens now?" Joel asked, knowing you wouldn't have the strength to ask.

"We need to give you a pill to expel the embryo." The doctor answered, trying to keep things brief upon seeing how you were silently falling apart on the examination table "To ensure we don't risk infection, we need to do this as soon as possible.

Joel nodded, squeezing your hand and dragging your gaze away from the lifeless shape on the screen.

"Pip?" He said softly and finally, you looked at him, your body numb.

"Do whatever you need to do." You said, your eyes empty of the sparkle that had been there when you first entered this room.

Joel pulled a blanket over your sleeping form and placed a soft kiss on your temple. After giving your permission to tell his mum what had happened, the woman offered to stay with Sarah so that he could take care of you. You stirred a little as he perched on the edge of your couch and rubbed your back affectionately.

"Will you tell him?" You asked.

"Tell who?"

"Will you tell Ant for me?" You clarified and Joel nodded in understanding.

"Anything you need." He replied as he leaned down to kiss you again.

He watched as you dosed off again. Placing his hand on your arm and giving it a few affectionate strokes with his thumb before standing and making his way to the kitchen.

Ant's number was stuck above your phone so Joel dialled it and waited for the man to answer, his stomach in knots. He didn't want to do this but he knew he needed to for you. He would tear himself apart if it made you feel even the slightest bit better at this moment in time.

"Hello?" Ant's familiar Texan drawl floated into his ear.

"Ant it's uh... It's Joel." He replied, trying to keep his voice steady.

"Hi man, what's up?" He asked, saying your name followed by "Is she okay?"

"No... she's uh... No, she's not." Joel confessed as he rested his brow against the wall beside the phone.

"What happened?" Ant's tone was definitely panicked and Joel felt sick at what he had to say next. What he had to tell this man who until this morning, he kinda hated.

"We went to the scan this morning and... Shit I'm so sorry to tell you this man but there was no heartbeat." Joel choked on those last few words.

"What?"

"Doc said the baby stopped developing." Joel explained, his voice now shaking as he told this man about how his baby was gone "They had to give her a pill to expel it so she's bleeding a lot right now."

"Is she going to be okay?"

"She'll be fine." Joel confirmed, hoping to put the man's mind at ease a little "Apparently it's common before 12 weeks." he didn't know if that brought Ant any comfort. It certainly hadn't brought you any.

"So I'm not going to be a dad?" Joel knew it was rhetorical.

"I'm so sorry man." He hoped his sincerity came across, but he was. His heart was breaking for them both.

"So am I." Ant replied, sniffing wetly before saying "Thanks for letting me know man..."

"Of course."

"Take care of her."

"Always."

Ant hung up after that. Placing the phone on its cradle he crept into the lounge and noted that you had fallen asleep again. Your cheeks and nose were raw from crying and your hair a mess as you'd tore at it earlier. All the emotions you'd not had a chance to feel coming down crashing all at once.

He wasn't sure how things were going to be. Whether you would want him or Sarah around after this. His baby would serve as a reminder of what you had lost. He wouldn't blame you if you pushed him away.

But he wasn't going to let you grieve alone.

You were in this together no matter what the outcome. He was going to get you out the other side no matter what the cost.

For updates follow @albertasunrise-ficsblog

#joel miller #joel miller fanfiction #joel miller fanfic #joel miller the last of us #last of us #the last of us #pedro pascal character fanfiction #pedro pascal characters #pedro pascal #pedro pascal gif #joel miller x reader #joel miller x you #the last of us fanfiction #last of us fanfiction

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triple-barred · 3 months ago

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some excerpts from the first couple chapters of no easy answers by brooks brown

(transcript in alt text)

transcript for fourth image:

People will ask me what I remember the most about grade school with Dylan Klebold. Sadly, my strongest memory is of both of us kneeling on the floor of the Normandy Elementary School bathroom, bawling our eyes out as we took turns scrubbing a little girl's muddy jacket with a toothbrush.

It all started during recess. We were outside, playing in the leftover snow from a few days before. As we ran around, I found a big patch ofice that was starting to melt but was still plenty solid enough to play with.

"Hey, Dylan!" I said. "Come here!" By the time Dylan arrived, I was already bouncing and sliding on the slushy patch. Dylan gamely joined in, our feet smashing little spiderwebs into the ice as it buckled under our weight.

Dylan's boot crashed down on a corner ofthe ice and made the whole patch shift. It tipped into a puddle underneath, which splashed a good amount of muddy water into the air. A girl in our class was standing nearby, wearing a brand-new coat her parents had just given her; the mud left a jagged brown stripe right down the front of it.

It was an accident. We hadn't thought the ice was going to do that. But our classmate took one look at her ruined coat and started screaming.

The second grade teacher immediately ran over to assess what was happening.

"It was an accident," I tried to say. " We were just playing with some ice, and—"

"Don't you have any respect for other people's property?" I remember the teacher yelling at us. " Don't you? You two are coming with me right now." Dylan and I knew we were in trouble, but at the same time, we didn't understand why the teacher was so angry. It wasn't as if we had thrown the mud at the girl, or stolen her coat and rolled it around on the ground. Maybe we'd been a little careless, but that's all. It was still an accident.

We tried to get the teacher to listen to us, but she ordered us to be quiet as she carried the girl's coat into the bathroom.

Both of us were bawling by the time she had us at the sink, wetting a toothbrush. She put the coat in Dylan's hands. "I want this cleaned!" she ordered. " You two will stay in here and scrub that mud off and you're not leaving until I say you're finished!" Choking back our tears, we took up the brush and started working. We quickly discovered that using a toothbrush on mud wasn't very efficient but we didn't have any choice. Both ofus continued to cry, our ears burning red from the embarrassment of being yelled at, of our teacher's spiteful glare, of people looking at us as we worked.

"It's not coming out!" Dylan kept saying, rubbing the same spot for what seemed like the 500th time.

"We have to get it," I remember saying in response. I just kept repeating that. "We have to get it."

Judy Brown happened to visit the school that day to drop off something for her son during lunch hour.

"I was in the hall, and I ran into the teacher and she was red-faced mad," Judy recalls. "And I said, 'What's going on?'She said, 'Your son and Dylan ruined this girl's coat. He is in the bathroom right now, trying to clean it.'I asked when this had happened, and she said it had been over an hour before. She went and got Brooks to have him talk to me, and when he came out, he was in tears.

"So I took her aside, and I said, 'You know what, you're going a little too far with this,"" Judy continued. "I talked to Brooks and he said that he wanted to stay in school, that everything was okay: Well, I went to pick him up after school, and guess what? She had made them stay in there for the whole day, and now she was keeping them after school as well. She wasn't going to let it drop. This teacher was out of control, and it was over mud."

To this day, Judy is angry about the treatment of her son and his classmates in second grade, and not just because of the bathroom incident. "She expected these kids to be perfect," she says today. "And kids aren't perfect. But she would have none of it. She absolutely terrorized my child."

Scrubbing a coat in the bathroom may not have been such a bad thing by itself, but it was kind ofthe icing on the cake. Second grade had, from the beginning, been completely difierent from first grade. For Dylan and me, it was the first time in our young lives that we felt like an adult hated us.

#triple-barred #reckoning #teeceecee #tccblr #truecrimecommunity #tcc columbine #eric and dylan #dylan columbine #eric columbine #brooks brown #no easy answers #columbine info

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watermelongirl01 · 4 months ago

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Sweet Rescue - 03

Firefighter!Dean Winchester x Fem!Reader

Content warning: SMUT, a little angst if you squint, fluff.

A/N: This is my first smut writing, I know it is not full thing yet, but it's going to happen soon, trust me. So let me knoe if you like it.

Also, the Holidays were really exhausting, I got really sick and my asthma came back, but we are sooooo back, so expect more stuff soon.

Chapter Three

“So, you haven’t got any?” You rolled your eyes.

“No, Charlie, we haven’t got there yet.”

“I can see that, you have increased the number of times you rolled your eyes at me by about four more times.

“No, that’s because you keep asking inappropriate questions.”

“You're my best friend, and you’re dating a hot firefighter, I think it is inappropriate if I don’t ask those kinds of questions.”

“It's not, I promise.” You said as you kept working on decorating your cupcakes.

A short silence invaded the kitchen, and for a few minutes, nobody said anything, not even Donna washing the dishes behind you.

You bit your bottom lip and let go of your piping bag, dropping it on the table with frustration. Both women look up at you with a knowing look.

“I don’t know, but every time we are close to doing it, something comes up, his work, my work, something ruins it and we pull apart.”

“Oh, Darling, I'm so sorry.” Donna said.

“Maybe you need to give the first step.” Charlie said while sneakily grabbing one of the cupcakes on the table.

“Oh, and say what? Want to come over to have some pizza and fuck me?”

Both women shrugged. “Sure, why not?”

“No!” You covered your face with your hands. “What if he says no?”

“What? He doesn´t like pizza?” Donna's question made you chuckle a little.

“I'm serious guys.”

“So are we.” Charlie said while eating the frosting of the cupcake she stole. “How about you just say: I don’t even know what’s gotten into me lately, but I wish it was you.” She said wiggling her eyebrows.

“Yeah, no, pass.” You shook your head.

“Just jump him already.” Donna said

“What if he doesn’t want me to jump him.”

“Are you kidding? Have you seen yourself?” Donna gasped.

“Hell, I want you to jump me.” Charlie added.

“Fine, fine. I’ll try.”

—----------------------------------------------------------------------

“Hey, sweetheart, what are you baking?” A low, raspy voice rumbled from behind you.

You startled slightly. “De! What are you doing back here?”

Before you could turn around, he stepped closer, his presence warm and solid. His arms came up on each side of you, caging you gently against the table. The faint scent of his cologne made your head spin.

“I’m dating the owner,” he murmured, leaning in so his chest brushed against your back. “Turns out, her employees let me sneak into the kitchen every now and then.”

His hands found your waist, his touch warm and familiar, while his lips grazed the side of your neck.

You stifled a laugh, trying to keep your focus on the dough in front of you. “Ha! She should fire those employees.”

Dean chuckled against your skin, his breath sending a shiver down your spine. “Good luck with that,” he teased.

He didn’t let go, his hands staying firm on your waist as if he had no intention of letting you finish your work anytime soon.

“They just left, by the way.” He said as he placed a kiss on your neck, the spot of your skin just touched by his lips felt like tingling. You can’t believe he found your sensitive spot while you were covered in flour and icing of every damn color.

He immediately recognized the sound that your mouth let slip out, an involuntary reaction, a gentle pleasure gasp. So he placed another kiss on your neck, and another and another, he loved the way your body responded to his actions.

He began to explore your sensitive skin by tracing his lips all over the line of your jaw and the curve of your neck, Dean feeling delighted in the subtle shivers rippling through you.

The slight arch of your back makes you press your ass against his boner.

“Sweetheart.” He breathed out as a warning

Your hips started to move, grinding over his clothed boner as he used his grip on you to draw you closer.

His lips started to suck on your skin and leave marks on it, and just as you felt his hands begin to wander all over, exploring the curves of your body, the ring of the oven timer reaching his time cut through the escalating heat. Snapping back to reality, Dean pulled apart.

“Got a little carried away, didn’t we?” He chuckled a hint of breathlessness still present in his voice.

“Yeah.” You turned around looking at his beautiful green eyes that held a hint of desire, mirroring your own. “It’s okay, we don’t need to stop.”

Without hesitation, my hand found the back of his head, pulling him into a kiss. The taste of his lips was exquisite, as always.

Dean reluctantly pulled apart once again. “Maybe we should have dinner first.” He smiled and placed a chest kiss on your lips. “Come on, you spend a lot of effort doing this dinner, let’s go upstairs.”

“Sure.” You gave him a sincere smile.

————————————————————————

Dinner had gone pretty well. The conversation flowed effortlessly, filled with laughter, shared stories, wholesome moments, and longing glances. Dean’s easy humor and the way his eyes lingered on you between jokes made your heart flutter more than once.

The evening ended with Dean’s favorite pie and the smile on his face when he took the first bite was worth every second you’d spent perfecting it.

Now, the two of you had migrated to the couch in your living room, the atmosphere warm and comfortable.

You weren’t entirely sure how it happened, maybe it was the way Dean’s hand brushed against yours or the way his eyes darkened when he leaned a little closer, but one moment you were sitting side by side, and the next, you were straddling him.

His hands gripped your hips firmly as you kissed him, his thumbs brushed against your sides. you could feel the warmth of his palms through the fabric of your dress, leaving a trail of heat.

His fingers, warm and knowing, found the curve of your left breast, and the absence of your bra there sent a shiver down his spine, and yours.

He followed with kisses along your neck before he slipped the thin straps of your dress from your shoulders.

The material pooled around your waist, revealing your bare chest and the way he looked at you with adoration let your mouth gasp with pleasure once again.

He looked at you with his green pleading eyes, you didn’t exactly know what he was asking for, but you nodded, it was barely a movement, but that was all the permission he needed.

A filthy noise came out of your mouth, as you felt how his lips captured your nipple, alternating between a teasing swirl of his tongue and the deep suction of his lips while his other hand massaged your neglected boob. Your body arched against him.

“So good, Sweetheart ” His whisper was warm over your naked skin.

You couldn’t help but place your hand on his shoulders and grind against his hard length through his jeans, your dress slipping upwards to expose your bottom as you began riding him desperate for some friction. This granted him total access to your cheeks which he didn’t hesitate to use in his favor to cup them as he held you closer.

“Fuck, baby.” He let out with a low grunt.

Your fingers tangled in Dean’s hair, pulling him closer as your lips crashed together in a kiss filled with passion and raw desire. He matched your intensity effortlessly, his hands gripping your ass like he couldn’t bear to let go. His tongue teased and tangled with yours, sending sparks through your body, drawing a breathless gasp from you.

While your hips keep quickly moving in search of some release, his hands on your ass helped to draw you as close as he wanted, making your panties soak.

But just as you were undoing the buttons of his lumberjack shirt, the room was filled with an annoying ringing sound. His phone.

His eyes didn’t lose that darkness melted with a spark of lust, but he still reached for his phone.

“Sorry, baby, I need to take this.” Dean’s voice was low as he carefully straightened up, gently moving you aside before standing. His touch lingered for a moment, but then he was gone, phone in hand, disappearing into another room for privacy.

You sat there, momentarily stunned by the abrupt interruption. Your heart still raced from moments ago, but now a faint sense of awkwardness crept in. Clearing your throat, you adjusted your dress and smoothed it out, your cheeks flushing with a mix of embarrassment and disappointment.

When Dean finally returned, his expression was apologetic, his eyes soft with regret.

“Everything okay?” you asked gently, searching his face.

“Uh, work emergency,” he said with a sigh. “I need to go.”

“Oh.” The word came out quieter than you intended.

“Sorry, baby.” His voice was filled with genuine remorse.

You mustered a small smile, even though your chest ached just a little. “It’s okay, De”

He leaned in, brushing a kiss against your forehead, his touch warm despite the moment’s interruption. “I’ll make it up to you, I promise.”

You nodded, watching him leave, the sound of the door clicking shut.

————————————————————————

“So… How’s it going?” Sam asked, his voice casual but laced with curiosity.

Both brothers were enjoying breakfast together, a rare quiet morning where they didn’t have to worry about any work shifts. This morning Dean had taken it upon himself to make pancakes for breakfast.

Dean didn’t look up as he flipped the pancakes. “Fine.”

Sam arched an eyebrow, leaning back in his chair. “Uh, Fine. That’s it?”

Dean shot him a side-eye but didn’t elaborate. He focused on keeping the pancakes from burning.

“Are you still dating the baker?” Sam asked, genuinely curious.

Dean’s lips quirked into a smile at the mention of you, and for the briefest moment, his usual tough-guy exterior softened. He didn’t respond right away, instead making sure the pancakes were just the right shade of golden brown.

“Yeah,” he finally said.

“And…?” Sam insisted, setting his coffee down and watching his brother closely. This was the first time in ages that he’d seen Dean genuinely smitten.

“Sam, if you want to know something, just ask.” Dean’s voice was light, but there was a hint of reluctance behind it.

Sam grinned, leaning forward. “Well, I was wondering why you haven’t brought her up here yet. I mean, You used to have a new girl here every other week when we were off shift, and now there’s not a single soul in sight.”

Dean’s movements stilled for a second, but he quickly masked it with a shrug. “She has her own place,” he said nonchalantly as if that were the end of it.

Sam blinked, looking at his brother incredulously. “Is that it?

Dean continued to pile pancakes onto Sam’s plate, avoiding Sam’s gaze. “And there’s always pie at her place.”

Sam raised an eyebrow, amusement creeping into his voice. “It’s all about pie with you, huh?”

“Sometimes.” Dean replied, still focused on what he was doing.

Sam put his coffee cup down and crossed his arms. “Wait a minute. Every time we talk about this, you get all specific with the details I never asked for. And half the time, I don’t ask anything and you still dump on me information I don’t want to know.”

Dean bit the inside of his cheek, avoiding his brother’s gaze as he dumped the pan into the kitchen sink. He knew Sam had figured him out. This needed to stop.

Sam raised an eyebrow, realizing something. “Wait… you haven’t had any sex yet.”

Dean’s eyes shifted, and he forced an awkward half-laugh. “That’s not true. I’m having plenty.”

Sam tilted his head, his suspicion growing. “Uh-huh.”

“Plus, Sex isn’t important to me.”

He narrowed his eyes. “Since when?”

Dean sighed, wiping his hands on a towel and looking at his brother. “Since now.”

Sam’s eyes widened slightly, a huge grin spreading across his face. “You’re waiting.”

Dean groaned, rolling his eyes. “I hate when you do this. I just don’t want her to think I’m just messing around, So I’ve been cock blocking myself until I feel like it’s the right and perfect time.”

He shook his head, amused. “Wow.”

“Yeah, whatever,” Dean muttered, clearly uncomfortable.

“No, no. It’s cute,” Sam said, still grinning. “I didn’t think you were the type to take things slow. I’m proud of you.”

Dean’s face flushed slightly, though he tried to play it off. “Are you gonna keep slut-shaming me?”

“No, no,” Sam laughed. “Actually, I’m impressed. You’re growing up.”

Dean groaned, shaking his head as he put the plate of pancakes in front of Sam. “Shut it, Sammy.”

————————————————————————

“Who the hell ate my last piece of pie?” Dean grumbled, his voice rough as he glared around the firehouse common room, where a few firefighters were casually eating breakfast.

“Wow, someone’s cranky this morning,” Sam teased as he walked in, arms loaded with pastry boxes from your bakery.

Dean’s eyes lit up at the sight of his brother and the familiar boxes. “How’d it go?” he asked, tone shifting instantly to curiosity.

“Good.” Sam replied, though his brow furrowed slightly.

“Did she ask about me?” Dean leaned in, his face betraying a mix of hope and nervousness.

Sam tilted his head, giving his brother a weird look. “No.”

“No?” Dean groaned, dragging a hand down his face. “Fuck”

“She was busy doing a delivery for an event.” Sam clarified, shrugging.

“Oh.” Dean’s smile disappeared almost as quickly as it had appeared. “You think she went to that delivery because she thought I was coming to pick up the desserts like every morning and didn’t want to see me?”

Sam raised an eyebrow, clearly unimpressed. “Why would she avoid you?”

Dean hesitated, then sighed, muttering as he headed toward the locker room, “Because I think I screwed it up.”

Sam, sensing there was more to the story, followed him. “Come on, spit it out.”

Dean hesitated again, then finally admitted, “I think the whole cock blocking thing it’s making everything worse.”

Sam’s eyes widened. “You still haven’t had sex with her?” His voice was loud enough to make Dean glare at him.

“Jesus, Sam, why don’t you yell it louder? I don’t think the entire firehouse heard you,” Dean snapped.

“Sorry, sorry,” Sam said, lowering his voice. “What happened?”

“We, uh... we got carried away,” Dean started, shifting uncomfortably. “But then I got this stupid call, probably a wrong number but I made up a fake work emergency, so I left her house with a boner.”

Sam’s jaw dropped. “God, this is even worse than I thought.”

“I know,” Dean groaned. “I think I hurt her feelings by leaving like that.”

“You think?” Sam shot back, his tone dripping with sarcasm.

“Okay, fine, I did hurt her feelings,” Dean admitted, pacing back and forth. “Now I’m worried she thinks I don’t want her like that, and it’s killing me because I do. Believe me, she’s got the most beautiful boobs, and those noises of hers almost made me lose my mind.“

“Stop. Sam interrupted, holding up a hand. “I don’t need all the details, save it.”

Dean smirked, but it faded quickly. “It’s just... it’s hard, I’m trying to remind myself why I’m waiting, but every second I’m with her, it gets harder.”

Sam considered his brother for a moment before an idea struck him. “Why don’t you take her to the roadhouse tonight? Introduce her to us, you know, make it official. That’ll show her you’re serious about her.”

Dean paused, then a slow smile spread across his face. “Sammy, that’s probably the best idea you’ve ever had. Ever.”

Sam rolled his eyes as Dean fished his phone out of his pocket and hurried out of the locker room, grinning like a teenager.

“I will call her, right now.”

Leaning back against the wall, Sam shook his head with a smirk. Yeah, it was official, his brother was head over heels.

Tag List: @aylacavebear @deans-baby-momma @ladysparkles78 @spxideyver @lunaleah @muhahaha303 @charismatic-writer @deansimpalababy @spnaquakindgdom @globetrotter28 @vsplanet @narcissustulip @formulas-bitch

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pillow-coded · 4 days ago

Text

To Have and To Hold — Chapter 3

Summary: After a quiet night message turns into a soft promise, Reader invites Spencer to the park. A toddler’s breakdown nearly derails the day, but it’s Spencer who meets her exactly where she is — and suddenly, they’re all a little less alone.

Couple: Spencer Reid/Fem!Reader

Category: Slow Burn Series (NSFW, 18+)

Content Warning: Emotional toddler meltdown, real awkward ending, plus so much fluff (it hurts).

A/N: I meant to post this earlier this week, but I've had a shitty week so sorry about that. anyway, this one is really cute and kinda awkward towards the end, but still.

Word Count: 5.8k

Series Masterlist

The apartment was quiet—finally.

Maddie’s hand rested over my heart like always, warm and sticky from the bedtime banana she’d refused to finish. Her little fingers curled and uncurled with every soft exhale, grounding me more than the weight of any blanket ever could. She never meant to anchor me. But somehow, without even trying, she did.

I shifted just slightly, careful not to wake her as I reached into my nightstand drawer. Wet wipes. My saving grace since day one. There’d been too many late-night messes, too many diaper blowouts and milk spills and crayon smudges on my pillowcases. I’d learned better than to be caught unprepared.

I dabbed gently at the tacky spot on my chest, trying not to laugh. That girl could turn anything—fruit, felt tip pens, an empty laundry basket—into a memory. She should’ve been asleep in her own bed. Usually, she was. But tonight she’d asked to stay with me. Something about how happy she was, how the day had been “like ice cream in the sun.” Whatever that meant. All I knew was that her smile hadn’t faded since we’d come home.

Maybe it was the Library, or the Cafe. Maybe it was the way he’d made her laugh. The way he looked at her with such fondness.

I blinked against the dimness, trying not to think about it. About him.

But then my phone buzzed softly under the pillow.

I slid it out with one hand, careful not to jostle her. The screen lit up the room in a faint glow, barely illuminating the messy bun I’d half-heartedly tied at the crown of my head.

Unknown number.

I blinked at it.

[23:19] Unknown Number: Hi, it’s Spencer.

I sat up a little. Thumb hovering.

[23:19] Unknown Number: Just wanted to let you know, I had a good time today.

A pause. Then another message followed.

[23:20] Unknown Number: Thank you for lunch.

That one made me smile. Not because it was overly sweet or bold or flirty—but because it was him. Direct. Polite. A little awkward. Very much him.

I stared at the screen longer than I meant to, rereading each message like it might offer more if I tilted the phone or looked closer. It didn’t. But it did make my chest feel weird—tight and warm at the same time.

I typed out three or four different replies, deleting each one.

Then finally:

[23:22] Y/n: It was nice seeing you again. I think Maddie had more fun than she does on her birthday.

Send.

It took less than a minute.

[23:23] Spencer: She’s... really great.

I smiled. And then, because I couldn't help it:

[23:23] Y/n: So are you.

I hovered over the unsend button.

But didn’t press it. Instead I deleted it.

The message disappeared, swallowed by the screen like it had never existed. Still, the words hung in the air like breath on a mirror.

So are you.

Too much. Too soon. I wasn’t sure if I meant it platonically or not—and that uncertainty was a little terrifying.

Before I could spiral further, my phone buzzed again.

[23:25] Spencer: She’s... really great.

My heart softened.

So he was still thinking about her. About today. About us.

I smiled and let myself reply, more confident this time.

[23:26] Y/n: She hasn’t stopped talking about “The great wizard Spencer”

The bubble popped up almost immediately.

[23:27] Spencer: That’s a pretty solid title. I might put it on a business card.

That made me laugh. Like, an actual out-loud laugh that made Maddie stir against my arm. I stifled it quickly, brushing a strand of hair off her forehead.

[23:27] Y/n: I’ll let you know if she starts asking for autographs.

Another pause. Longer this time.

[23:29] Spencer: Would it be alright if I saw you both again sometime?

My heart did that fluttery thing it hadn’t done in way too long.

[23:30] Y/n: Of course. We’d like that.

[23:30] Y/n: She’s obsessed with the park by the old church. The one with the ducks. We’re probably going next week.

A beat.

[23:32] Spencer: Let me know when. I’ll bring more magic tricks.

I smiled down at the screen. Warm. Stupidly warm.

[23:33] Y/n: Maddie’s gonna love you if ducks and magic are involved.

[23:33] Spencer: I’m okay with that.

The reply hit harder than I expected.

I didn’t dare move Maddie—her head was still tucked against my chest, one hand limp across my ribs—but I did kick my feet a little beneath the blanket. A stupid little wiggle like I was fifteen again and someone had just texted “I like your smile” between classes.

I bit down a grin and locked the screen, hugging the phone to my shoulder like a secret. Like I could fold myself around it.

Like maybe I already was.

Then, I tucked my phone away and curled myself around Maddie. Her breathing deepened again, steady and small.

And this time, when I closed my eyes, I didn’t feel so alone.

═══════

“Mommy! Mommy! I want to feed the ducks!”

She was already running before I could finish tying my shoe. Hair bouncing, little legs wobbling across the grass like she’d been launched from a cannon.

“Hold on, Maddie!” I called after her, one hand digging for the crusty ziplock bag of old sandwich bread I’d shoved in my coat pocket. “Wait for me!”

We’d barely been at the park for ten minutes. I'd imagined a peaceful morning—sunlight on the pond, maybe a moment to sit and breathe while she ran around chasing butterflies or scaring pigeons. But no. We’d seen one cartoon episode of Peppa Pig where they fed ducks, and suddenly this was a mission.

By the time I caught up, she was already pressed against the wooden railing by the water’s edge, bouncing on her toes.

Her whole body thrummed with purpose. And maybe it was ridiculous, how serious she looked in her little sneakers and her sparkly hair clips. But I knew that look.

She took ducks seriously. Like, seriously.

Ever since that one spring we got caught in the rain walking home from daycare, and took cover under the big oak near the pond. She was barely two, still in that phase where she called umbrellas “brellas” and clung to me like I was her only anchor in the world.

We sat on a bench under my jacket while the rain came down, and out waddled this duck. So calm. So… bold, really. Like she was the one letting us take cover in her park.

Maddie was mesmerized.

She pointed and whispered “duckie” like it was holy. And then the duck quacked—loud, short, ridiculous—and Maddie burst into laughter so hard she hiccupped. She talked about that duck for weeks. Drew it. Named it. Told anyone who would listen about that duck. Even though back then all she could say about the situation was “duckie” and “rain”,

She loves ducks.

And I should’ve known—should’ve remembered—that with Maddie, joy is always right on the edge of disaster.

“I need the bread!”

“Here,” I panted, pulling out the bag and handing her a crust. “One piece at a time, okay?”

She nodded like she was listening. She wasn’t.

The first piece went fine. A duck quacked. She squealed with glee. I smiled—right up until she tried to rip a second slice in half and it crumbled entirely in her hands.

Her face froze.

“Oh no,” she whispered, staring down at her hands.

The crust had crumbled. A soft, torn mess now instead of the perfect piece she’d carefully picked. She blinked down at it once, twice—then her lower lip started to wobble.

“I didn’t mean to break it,” she said, her voice shaking like a cup about to spill. “It was for the baby duck.”

That was all it took.

Her shoulders curled inward, little fists tightening around the useless crumbs. She wasn’t loud—not really. Just crushed. Her eyes filled fast, lashes clumped with tears that slid down before I could wipe them.

“Maddie, hey,” I murmured, already crouching beside her. “It’s okay, sweetheart. You can still give it to them. The ducks don’t mind if it’s—”

“But I wanted to do it right,” she choked. “It was supposed to be a big piece. For the littlest one.”

I felt my chest ache. Because of course it wasn’t just about the bread. This was about doing it right. About getting the moment just the way she imagined it in her head.

Maddie wasn’t the kind of kid who melted down often. She didn’t throw things or stomp or scream. When she fell apart, it always looked like this—quiet, crumpled, like she thought she’d ruined something important and couldn’t figure out how to fix it.

Sometimes I feel like she’s too much like me… and I don’t know if that’s a good thing or a bad thing.

That soft kind of perfectionism, the one that doesn’t make a scene but still bruises you from the inside out—that’s mine. She must’ve picked it up without me even realizing. And now here she was, four years old and already trying to carry disappointment like it was her fault.

I rested a hand on her back, rubbing gently in small circles.

“It’s still a gift,” I whispered. “They’ll still love it. You were being really thoughtful.”

She sniffled, trying to blink away the tears. But she was still trembling, overwhelmed in that way only a little kid can be—feeling everything all at once with no place to put it.

I exhaled through my nose, brushing hair from her face as she started to sob.

“Mads, I know it’s hard. It’s just bread, baby. The ducks are still going to love it, okay?”

She wasn’t hearing me. Not really. She was too deep in it now—splotchy cheeks, hiccupping breath, the kind of cry that meant her logic center had officially left the building. I sat back on my heels and rubbed a hand up her arm, unsure if I should wait it out or—

“Hey.”

The voice was soft, careful. I turned.

Spencer.

He was walking toward us slowly, hands tucked in his coat pockets, eyes trained on Maddie like she was something fragile—like he didn’t want to step too hard and shatter her.

He crouched beside us, not directly in front of her, but angled. A little to the side. Not taking up too much space. Not pushing. Just… there.

“Did you know,” he said, voice low and steady, “ducklings sleep in a line, and the last one watches for danger?”

Maddie hiccupped mid-cry.

Spencer glanced at her. “They take turns. The one at the back is like the brave little lookout. And when that one gets tired, they all shuffle around and a new duckling takes over.”

Her breathing slowed.

Not stopped—but slowed. She looked at him. Her brows were still pinched, lips still trembling, but her eyes were on him now.

“Really?” she sniffled.

He nodded solemnly. “Mm-hmm. They’re very organized. I don’t think they cry when their bread breaks.”

Her bottom lip twitched—almost a smile, almost a sob. She wiped her face on her sleeve and looked down at the crumbs in her palm.

“I was gonna give it to the baby duck,” she whispered.

Spencer reached over, gently gathering the soft little bits of crust from her hands like they were something worth keeping.

“I think the baby duck will still like it. Maybe even more.”

She didn’t answer. Just nodded slowly, eyes darting to the pond where the ducks were still floating, completely unfazed by the emotional crisis unfolding beside them.

I looked at him—at this man with too-long sleeves and a napkin in his back pocket and somehow, somehow, the exact right words for her. He met her where she was. Not above her. Not behind her. Right there.

My throat felt tight, watching them. Not romantic, not yet. Just… grateful.

He glanced at me.

“She okay?” he asked quietly.

I could only nod.

She was still sniffling, but the storm had passed. And he—he had been the one to calm it.

Spencer leaned back on his heels and looked down at her gently. “Come on, Maddie,” he said, his voice low. “Let’s go sit for a bit.”

She nodded solemnly, still clutching the now-crumbled crust in her palm like it was important. Like she’d earned it.

The three of us made our way to a sun-warmed bench just off the path. Maddie plopped beside me for all of thirty seconds before spotting a stick and toddling back into the grass with renewed purpose.

“Stay where I can see you,” I called after her automatically.

“I am here,” she chirped, not looking back—already dragging her stick through a patch of mud like she was etching runes only she could read.

I smiled, shaking my head, then glanced at Spencer. He was sitting beside me now, arms resting on his knees, eyes still half-watching her.

Maddie had wandered a few feet off the path, turning slow circles in the grass. Her cheeks were still blotchy, her nose pink, but her energy had returned with that stubborn, sunlit determination only kids seem to have. She hummed softly to herself, poking at a leaf like it owed her an explanation.

The quiet between us wasn’t awkward. If anything, it felt… earned.

“Thanks again,” I said gently. “For what you said to her. I don’t think I would’ve gotten through to her like that.”

Spencer shook his head, eyes still following Maddie’s slow loops through the grass.

“Of course you would’ve,” he said, like it was fact. “You’re her mom.”

There was no teasing in his voice. No patronizing edge. Just this calm certainty, like he didn’t even question it—like being her mom meant I had all the answers, even on the days I felt like I was making it up as I went.

I didn’t say anything at first. Just watched Maddie squat to poke a stick into a puddle, her brow furrowed in deep concentration.

“She really wanted to do it right,” I murmured.

“She did.”

His tone was so sure, so full of quiet admiration that I had to glance over at him.

“You’re good with kids,” I said.

He shrugged. “I read some parenting books. Once.”

I laughed under my breath. “You studied parenting?”

Spencer nodded, like that wasn’t a strange thing for someone without kids to do. “I thought… maybe, one day.” He paused, then looked down. “And it helped. Knowing things, I mean. Back then.”

Something in the way he said back then made my smile falter. Just a little.

There it was again—that curiosity I can’t seem to shut off. The kind I usually try to smother when it comes to strangers. But he wasn’t a stranger, not really. And he didn’t owe me anything. He’d only met me twice. But still… the way he spoke around things, softened the edges of certain truths—it made me lean in.

The parts he was awfully vague about glowed to me, and as always, I was attracted to that glow.

“Maybe one day?” I pry. God, I hate myself for it, but I can’t help it.

He looks taken aback for a second, like he didn’t expect me to ask. Then his gaze drops again, quieter this time.

“I just… always thought I’d have kids someday. I guess it just won’t ever happen.”

There’s a shrug at the end of it, but it feels forced—like he knows better than to hope, so he’s trying not to want. Like wanting hurts too much.

I don’t answer right away. Because what do you say to that? You still could? Never say never? None of it would land right, and I’m not sure I’ve earned the right to reassure him.

So I just sit with it. With him. Letting his words settle like dust between us while Maddie hums in the distance, dragging her stick across a tree root like she’s solving a puzzle only she understands.

I turned my eyes back to Maddie. She was trying to balance her stick on a rock now, humming to herself like she hadn’t just had a meltdown fifteen minutes ago.

That’s the thing about kids. They rebound faster than the rest of us ever learn to.

The silence stretched between us, but it didn’t feel empty. It felt like something was being carefully made—not spoken, but built all the same.

The breeze picked up, rustling through the trees, scattering a few dandelion tufts past our shoes. Maddie tried to catch one, missed, and laughed like she hadn’t missed at all.

“Maddie, come here sweetheart,” I called gently, not because she was far, but because I wanted her a little closer. She looked up, blinked, and came skipping back without hesitation, stick still clutched in one hand.

She settled on the grass by my feet, twisting the hem of her shirt, perfectly content.

I looked at her. Then at Spencer.

“Mads,” I said, brushing a bit of hair behind her ear, “why don’t you take Spence on a hunt for dandelions?”

Her head popped up, instantly intrigued.

“The one who brings me the most wins.”

It was a lighthearted prompt, but I meant it. Not the game itself—but what it could give him. A small piece of something I could tell he thought he’d lost.

I didn’t know what he’d say. But part of me hoped that maybe if he felt just a little needed—if she looked at him with that wide-eyed kind of wonder only she could pull off—then maybe it would lift the weight he was carrying. Even just a little.

Maybe it would help soothe whatever part of him still ached from wanting more.

Maddie gasped like I’d just handed her a treasure map. “Come on!” she squeaked, grabbing Spencer’s hand with both of hers.

He barely had time to react before she was tugging him toward the grass, already scanning the lawn like a detective on a mission.

Spencer stumbled a step, startled, then let out a soft laugh—more breath than sound—as he glanced back at me with wide eyes, like Is this normal? Am I being kidnapped by a preschooler?

I just smiled and waved them off. “No mercy, Spencer. She plays to win.”

He shook his head, still smiling as Maddie dragged him deeper into the dandelion hunt—stick in one hand, Spencer in the other.

I watched them go—his long, unsure stride trying to match her bouncing steps, her chatter already spilling out in enthusiastic bursts. Something about which flowers counted and which ones were didn't have enough fluffy petals as if that were a rule.

Spencer looked completely out of his element and, somehow, like he belonged there anyway.

It did something to me.

Something warm. A little sharp around the edges.

Because I hadn’t expected to see that look on his face. Not so soon. Not here. But there it was—genuine, soft, and just the tiniest bit overwhelmed in a way that made me ache.

He didn’t even notice he was still holding her hand.

And Maddie didn’t either.

She just pointed excitedly to a patch near a tree and pulled him along with that same relentless certainty she had when she knew exactly what she wanted.

And for a second, I let myself wonder what it would look like—really look like—if that image in front of me wasn’t temporary. If this wasn’t just a moment, but a beginning.

That image is quickly scratched off when my brain comes back to the real world, and remember this is my third time seeing him.

I leaned back on the bench and closed my eyes for half a second, letting the sound of her laughter and his quiet responses drift through the breeze like music I didn’t know I’d been missing.

That softness barely had time to settle in my chest before reality tugged it back out. Because this was only the third time I’d ever seen him.

I let out a breath and leaned back on the bench, closing my eyes for half a second—just long enough to take in the sound of Maddie’s laughter and Spencer’s soft replies. It all drifted in on the breeze like music I didn’t know I’d been missing.

Their voices got louder before I opened my eyes.

“We found so many!” Maddie announced, bursting back toward the bench like she was returning from war with trophies. Her hands were full—dandelions, leaves, a stick or two for good measure.

Spencer followed behind, looking slightly winded and holding his own handful of flattened stems and dandelions with missing petals. His hair was a little messier now, a leaf stuck to his elbow, and he looked... happy. A little confused by it, but happy.

“I think we cleared out half the park,” he said, glancing at me as he approached.

“She said we have enough,” he added, gesturing to Maddie. “Her exact words were, ‘This is too many for a crown.’”

Maddie dumped her collection into my lap like a florist with no concept of restraint. “You have to pick the best ones,” she said seriously.

“I’ll try,” I smiled, already sorting through the tangle of greens and golds. “But I might need a caffeine boost first.”

Spencer hesitated. Not dramatically. Just for a beat—long enough that I noticed.

Then: “Do you want to grab a coffee? There’s a place just across the street. I mean—if you’re not in a rush.”

He said it casually, but there was something hopeful tucked inside the words.

I looked at Maddie, who had now moved on to weaving blades of grass together like she was inventing rope.

“I think we’ve got time,” I said, glancing back at him. “Especially if they have chocolate milk.”

Spencer smiled—really smiled—and offered his hand to help me up.

“Then it’s a date.”

He blinked, like maybe he hadn’t meant to say that out loud.

I didn’t correct him, just smiled.

The café was familiar. The kind of place I used to seek out during long layovers and quiet Saturday mornings. Warm lighting. Muffled conversation. A low hum of espresso machines. It should’ve made me feel grounded.

But nothing about being around her ever felt grounded.

Y/n ordered Maddie’s warm chocolate milk like it was second nature—“just a little foam, please, not too hot”—and I couldn’t stop watching the way her hand hovered protectively near her daughter’s back while she spoke. Easy. Confident. Effortlessly cool, in that way people are when they don’t know you’re watching.

I stepped up to the counter, said my order too quickly, and regretted it immediately. Black coffee. Four sugars. I should’ve asked for something else. Something less... revealing.

We moved to a table by the window. Maddie climbed into her seat like it was a jungle gym. Y/n slid into hers with a kind of fluid calm that made me hyper-aware of how long it took me to sit down.

The moment I touched my cup, I was already wrapping a napkin around it. I always do. It wasn’t even about the heat. It was the texture. The condensation. The smudges. I didn’t like the way paper cups felt.

Across from me, Y/n was watching.

“That’s a lot of sugar,” she murmured with a smile. I couldn’t tell if she was mocking me or just amused.

I should be better at telling the difference. I’m a profiler, for crying out loud… but I just couldn’t.

It didn’t help that her voice was so gentle. Or that her smile wasn’t mean—but it wasn’t entirely neutral either. It lingered in this space I couldn’t read. And I hate not being able to read people. Especially when it’s her.

I looked down at the cup, at the napkin crinkled under my fingertips. “Four and a half,” I said quietly. “Sometimes five.”

“Wow,” she replied, leaning back with wide eyes that might’ve been mock-horrified, but still kind. “You don’t strike me as a sugar guy.”

I shrugged, bracing for the joke. “You’d be surprised.”

She didn’t laugh at me. Just took a sip of her drink and tilted her head like she was trying to figure something out about me. And it made me want to explain it. Like if I could just offer enough context, maybe I wouldn’t feel so exposed.

“It’s just… it balances the bitterness. I don’t like sweet drinks, but straight black coffee is too acidic. Sugar dulls that. And it’s not like I drink a ton of it—just… every morning.”

She smiled again. “Spencer?”

“Yeah?”

“You don’t have to justify liking your coffee weird. I drink mine with a little too much milk. It's okay for it to be weird.”

I blinked. “It’s not—”

She raised an eyebrow.

Okay. It’s weird.

I flushed and looked back down at my cup, fingers tightening slightly around the napkin.

I glanced to the side—Maddie had gotten up and was now twirling slowly near the edge of our table, holding her warm milk in both hands like it was some sort of magic chalice.

Her voice was soft and distracted as she spun, “This is a potion… for frogs and wishes and—and sparkles—”

I smiled without meaning to.

Y/n did too.

And for a moment, I thought maybe this wasn’t so strange after all. Maybe this little pocket of normalcy—this table, this coffee, this conversation—was something I could belong in.

“I think it’s endearing,” she added after a beat. “The sugar. The napkin. The whole—” she gestured vaguely at me, “thing.”

The whole thing.

I wasn’t sure what that meant. But she said it like it wasn’t bad.

And that... that kind of terrified me.

She didn’t allowed me to overthink it too much, because she quickly switched the subject.

“What do you do for a living?”

I blinked.

It was such a normal question. One I’d answered a hundred times. But for some reason I felt like answering it would make her run for the hills.

Because this—whatever this was—felt like the first thing in a long time that I didn’t want to screw up.

And telling people what I do usually has a way of screwing things up.

Not immediately, not always. But there’s a shift. Their eyes go a little wider, their questions get more cautious, the air between us starts to carry weight. They picture blood and bodies, serial killers and endless darkness. They imagine me as some hardened version of myself—someone who can’t possibly fit into a soft, ordinary world like this one.

They don’t see the way it costs something. Or how much of myself I’ve had to wall off just to keep doing it.

And maybe the worst part is, I don’t even blame them.

So yeah. I hesitated.

Because Y/n doesn’t feel like someone passing through. And I don’t want her looking at me like I’m another thing to be careful around.

I just want her to keep looking at me like this—curious, a little amused, like I’m someone she actually wants to know.

“I, uh...” I hesitated. Then frowned slightly. “Why are you asking?”

She raised an eyebrow, sipping her drink. “Just curious.”

Before I could respond, there was a sharp gasp and the scrape of a chair leg against the floor.

I turned just in time to see Maddie—spinning, laughing—bump full force into a woman carrying a tray.

The tray jolted. A to-go cup teetered. A lid flew.

Coffee sloshed dangerously close to the edge before the woman caught it, steadying everything with an almost superhuman reflex.

Maddie froze mid-spin, eyes wide. Milk dripping from the rim of her cup.

I stood up without thinking, already reaching for the napkins.

Y/n was faster. She was by Maddie’s side in a second, one hand bracing her daughter’s arm, the other already offering an apology.

“Oh my god—I'm so sorry,” she said breathlessly. “Maddie, hey—baby, slow down, remember?”

The woman blinked, then laughed. Not sharply—kindly. Like someone who’s been there.

“It’s okay,” she said, smiling at Y/n. “I’ve got three at home. They’re always so hyper.”

Then she crouched slightly, looking Maddie right in the eye. “Just gotta be careful with coffee, sweetheart. Grown-ups get very dramatic when their caffeine disappears.”

Maddie gave a quick, serious nod like she’d just been handed ancient scrolls.

“Sorry,” she whispered.

“No harm done.” The woman stood, tray still in one piece. Then she looked up—at me, at Y/n, at all three of us standing around this tiny table like something sacred had just been spilled.

“You guys make a cute family,” she said.

Y/n opened her mouth—just slightly—like she might explain. But nothing came out.

I didn’t say anything either.

Our eyes met. Just for a second. Maybe two.

But it felt longer.

She didn’t smile. I didn’t, either. There was no soft laugh, no quick deflection—just that look. Still, quiet, sharp at the edges. Like we were both holding our breath under it.

I should’ve laughed. Said something. Cleared the air before it turned into something neither of us was ready to touch. But my throat felt tight. My mouth didn’t move.

And the worst part?

I didn’t want to correct the woman.

Because in that moment—just for that fleeting, fragile second—it didn’t feel wrong.

It felt like something we’d almost earned. Like a dream I hadn’t let myself have, standing there, looking at her holding Maddie so gently, like this was their rhythm and I’d just... joined in.

Her eyes were the first to flick away.

But not far. Just down—to Maddie. To the hand still curled lightly around her sleeve.

She didn’t say we’re not. She didn’t laugh it off either. And I knew Y/n, Well, at least I knew enough. She was quick-witted, sharp. She always had something to say.

The fact that she said nothing? That spoke louder than anything else.

My grip on the napkins tightened. I didn’t realize I was still holding them.

I wanted to ask what she was thinking. If she felt it too—that strange pull between us, like a truth neither of us had the right to claim yet.

But Maddie broke the silence before I could.

She looked up at both of us, blinking slowly. Her voice came out in a whisper, fragile and curious.

“We’re a family?”

It hit me like a pin to a balloon.

And that was it. The moment fractured.

Y/n’s expression changed instantly—like someone had flipped a switch. That softness in her eyes vanished, replaced by quiet panic. Her voice came quickly, too quickly.

“No, sweetheart…” she said, crouching slightly beside Maddie, her hands smoothing down the child’s arms as if that might ground them both. “Spencer’s our friend.”

She smiled as she said it. Gentle. Reassuring.

But it was the kind of smile you put on when something needs to be undone.

And she was right. Of course she was right.

We weren’t a family.

I had only just met her. Twice, technically. Maybe three times, if you count the bookstore. And already I was letting myself entertain some ridiculous narrative like I belonged in this picture—like I could fold myself into their life without warning or invitation.

God. I really should’ve said something.

I should’ve corrected the stranger. Should’ve stepped in before Y/n had to. Should’ve done something to stop that little ache in Maddie’s voice before it landed in the middle of us like that.

Instead, I just stood there. Silent. A napkin still balled in my hand like I didn’t know what else to hold.

I wasn’t her dad. I wasn’t her partner. I wasn’t even really their friend.

I was just some guy who got too comfortable in a moment that didn’t belong to him.

We eventually sat down again. Maddie was calm now, sipping what was left of her milk and humming quietly to herself, as if the moment had never happened.

But I could still feel the tension clinging to my spine like static. Y/n didn’t look at me. She just wiped her hand on a napkin and sat back in her chair, her face unreadable.

Then—too casual, like she was trying to smooth the silence with a joke—she said, “Most dads would’ve panicked with a spill like that.”

It hit harder than it should have.

“Sorry—I didn’t mean to imply that you were implying that I was. I just—sometimes people assume things, and I didn’t want it to sound like I thought—”

I stopped. Inhaled. Shut my eyes for half a second.

God. Stop talking.

Y/n didn’t say anything right away. Just stirred her drink with the little wooden stick, slow and unbothered.

“I wasn’t implying anything,” she said finally. Calm. Simple. Kind, but not comforting. “It was just a comment.”

Right. Just a comment.

And I’d made it weird.

I nodded, even though it didn’t feel like enough. I didn’t know how to say I didn’t mean to get weird about it because the truth is I wish I belonged in that picture. So I didn’t say anything.

I just folded the edge of my napkin tighter and stared at my coffee like it had the answer I’d missed.

“She’s funny,” I said instead. My voice came out quieter than I meant.

Y/n finally glanced over.

“She likes you,” she said. And her tone had changed—not playful, not distant. Just… honest.

And somehow, that made it worse.

Because I liked her too. Too much. Too soon. And I had no idea what to do with that.

So I didn’t do anything.

Not when she looked away. Not when Maddie reached for her hand. Not even when I thought, for the briefest second, about reaching for it too.

I just sat there, fingers fidgeting with a damp napkin, trying to act like I hadn’t already imagined what it might feel like to belong here.

To be part of their little world.

To be hers.

Maddie giggled at something only she understood, milk still clinging to the corners of her mouth. Y/n smiled at her, soft and real, and I felt it hit me in the chest—how easy it came to them.

How hard it was to sit across from that and pretend I didn’t want in.

The sunlight had shifted, hitting the table just right. I watched the reflection of her hand on the glass.

And let it stay there, just out of reach.

Previous Chapter │ Next Chapter

taglist : @smithieandy @kspencer34 @person-005 @diffidentphantom @23moonjellies @reidssoulmate @imaginationfever13 @measure-in-pain @Reidrs @un-messed @rhinelivinglife @Skye-westwood @xxfairyqueenxx @alrat13

#spencer reid #criminal minds #spencer reid fanfic #spencer reid fanfiction #spencer reid x reader #criminal minds imagine #criminal minds self insert #dr spencer reid #spencer reid imagine #post prison spencer #post prison reid #girl dad spencer reid

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cosmiclily · 3 months ago

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chapter nine: the edge

wc: 2.8k

notes: next chapter will be the interview that i mentioned a couple of chapters ago!!! pls send some questions to our fellow rock stars

Apparently, sex was, in fact, a fantastic creative exercise—or at the very least, an excellent incentive for spitting out lyrics. Once you figured that out, the entire process of choosing lyrics, organizing tracks, and brainstorming ideas became a hell of a lot easier.

Writer’s block? Fixed with Vi’s hands gripping your hips, her mouth marking a trail down your stomach.

Frustrated over a melody that wouldn’t click? Easily solved by the way she pressed you into the mattress and pulled sounds from your lips sweeter than any song you’d ever written.

Tension from long hours in the studio? Well… she had a very effective method of dealing with that.

Of course, you weren’t oblivious. You knew exactly what Vi was doing—using you as a distraction, a way to keep from drowning in whatever emotions those songs dragged back up. You knew she was using you to not think about her. Caitlyn.

But when Vi held you like that, when her fingers tangled in your hair, when she bit down on your neck just enough to make you shiver, when she touched you exactly the way you needed to be touched? None of that mattered. Not even a little.

And, honestly? It was a great way to de-stress.

The long nights spent cramped in the studio became more bearable when you knew you could go home and have Vi all to yourself.

It was like having a place where the weight of the world could just melt away. You got to pull her closer, scratch, bite, and touch every inch of her as if she was yours to do with as you pleased.

And the memories were almost addictive. Every time the pressure of the studio, the deadlines, or a fight with someone built up, you could close your eyes and retreat to your happy place.

“We’re almost finished here,” Archie said, barely looking up from his tablet. “Mark was talking to me about promotions, interviews, appearances—the whole deal. So clear your schedules.”

You sat back in your chair, stretching your arms over your head with a satisfied sigh. For the first time in months, the studio didn’t feel like a pressure cooker. No one was snapping at each other out of frustration, no one was sulking over failed ideas, and—most importantly—no one was on the verge of throwing their instruments against the wall.

The hard part was finally done.

You’d recorded a couple of solid tracks, and almost every song you wanted for the album was ready. The weight that had been crushing your shoulders for months had finally eased, letting you breathe a little easier.

“Finally,” Jinx groaned, throwing herself onto the couch with a dramatic sigh. “If I had to listen to one more version of that last chorus, I think I’d start hearing it in my dreams.”

Ekko smirked, tuning his bass idly. “You say that like you don’t already.”

Jinx pointed a finger at him without lifting her head. “Shut it, time boy.”

Vi chuckled from her spot by the drum set, twirling a drumstick between her fingers. “Admit it—you’re gonna miss all this once we’re done.”

Jinx peeked up at her with a lazy grin. “I’ll miss driving you crazy. That part was fun.”

You shook your head, laughing, before glancing back at Archie. “So, what’s next?”

Archie scrolled through his tablet before giving you all a pointed look. “Now? We get ready to *sell* this thing. That means promo shoots, interviews, maybe even a live session or two.” He narrowed his eyes. “So, try not to look half-dead for the cameras, alright?”

You snorted. “No promises.”

“Great. Love the enthusiasm,” Archie deadpanned before turning back to his notes. “Now, let’s talk deadlines…”

He turned his tablet to us, displaying his calendar.

“This month, we’ll be finishing the recording, and the producers will take care of the rest. Next week, we want to shoot some pictures for the cover and also do some introductions for your channel—you know, fan stuff,” he rushed through, glancing up at us, his finger hovering over the screen. “And we want to do an interview, answering questions from your fans, and some general stuff.”

He continued explaining the calendar details, but you couldn’t help but notice the way everyone else’s faces seemed to blur into confusion. You weren’t the only one who was a little lost in the whirlwind of the plans. With everything that had been happening in the studio lately, the reality of the promotion process felt like a whole new beast to tackle. The recording was one thing, but now there were public appearances, live sessions, photo shoots, and interviews to manage too.

Vi, sensing the shared hesitation, shot you a quick, silent look across the room, one brow arched in that familiar, unspoken question. Is this what we’re really getting into?

You couldn’t help but grin and shrug. “Fan stuff, huh? Sounds… fun.”

Jinx leaned back in her chair with a loud groan. “Wait, wait, hold up. So now we’re gonna have to look good for the cameras too?” She ran a hand through her messy hair. “I mean, sure, we look good, but I’m not exactly camera ready.”

Ekko chuckled, clearly amused. “Jinx, I think the camera is going to need a lot more than a filter to handle you.”

Jinx shot him a glare. “If you’re trying to be funny, it’s not working.”

Archie’s face was a mixture of professional concern and barely-contained amusement. “Look, I know this is a lot, but we’ve been working for this moment. The album’s almost ready, and now we need to give people a taste of what’s coming. You want them to care, right? Then we have to make them care.”

Vi, ever the voice of reason, raised her hand, leaning forward to address the group. “We’ve been locked in here for months. It’s time to show the world what we’ve been working on. Let’s just get it over with, yeah?”

There was a brief silence, followed by murmurs of agreement. Everyone seemed to acknowledge the inevitable.

“Alright,” you said with a deep breath, sitting up straighter, “let’s just get this done. We’ve made it this far.”

Archie nodded, satisfied. “Good. So, here’s the schedule for the next two weeks. Let’s get moving on it.” He handed out the specific tasks and assignments, detailing each member’s role in the upcoming photo shoots, interviews, and other appearances.

As he wrapped things up, the room fell into a quiet hum of anticipation. This was the next phase—one where the music wasn’t the only thing that mattered anymore.

──────────────────────

You were paired off in twos to film a short introduction video for yourselves and the album—Vi and you, and Ekko with Jinx. Archie gave you the freedom to choose where you wanted to film and what you could talk about (as long as you stuck to the schedule, of course).

Vi suggested filming at your place, claiming “the plants give off a nice vibe.” You didn’t argue—if it made things easier, you were all for it. So, to your apartment you went.

As you both stepped inside, Vi kicked off her boots near the door while you tossed your keys onto the table, the familiar clatter echoing in the quiet space. The apartment felt weirdly calm compared to the chaotic energy of the studio. But now came the hard part—figuring out what the hell to do for this video.

“So, what do you think we should do?” Vi asked, her voice casual as she wandered over to your living room, eyeing the plants like they’d give her the answer.

You trailed behind her, chewing on the inside of your cheek. What could you film that would actually reflect your energy without coming off as too much… or, worse, boring?

“Honestly? I’ve got no clue.” You flopped onto the couch, sighing. “Ekko and Jinx are doing some painting session or whatever since they’ve got that in common. But us?” You gestured vaguely between the two of you. “What do we do? Besides, you know…” You trailed off with a smirk, your mind flashing back to Vi's very creative methods of stress relief.

Vi chuckled, flopping down beside you and tossing her legs over your lap. “Yeah, I don’t think that’s exactly the vibe Archie’s looking for.” She shot you a teasing grin. “Though I’m sure it’d get us a hell of a lot of views.”

You laughed, shaking your head. “Yeah, not trying to get us banned off every platform before the album even drops.”

Vi leaned back, staring at the ceiling in thought. “Okay, so… no painting, no X-rated content.” She tapped her fingers against the couch rhythmically. “What about something simple? Like us just talking about the songs, the process, you know?”

You made a face. “That sounds kinda… stiff. Everyone’s gonna do that. I mean, sure, we talk about the songs, but there’s gotta be something more us in it.”

Vi was quiet for a second before her eyes lit up. “What if we do something more casual? Like, we’re just hanging out, talking shit, maybe playing some old tracks and reacting to them?” She grinned, nudging your shoulder. “You know, let people see the real us—chaotic mess and all.”

You laughed, the idea settling in your mind. That actually sounded like fun. “Alright, yeah. I like that. Maybe we can even throw in some behind-the-scenes clips? Like the time Jinx nearly set the mic on fire?”

Vi burst out laughing. “Or when Ekko tripped over his own bass cable and tried to play it off like nothing happened?”

The two of you were already in stitches, the tension from earlier melting away. This felt right—natural, fun, and totally you.

“Okay,” you said, standing up and grabbing your phone. “Let’s set this up before we lose the vibe. You grab the speaker, I’ll get the camera.”

Vi gave you a mock salute. “Aye aye, captain.”

In no time, your makeshift filming set was ready. You grabbed some snacks, adjusted the lighting just enough to look effortless, and set the camera to start recording.

You both introduced yourselves, diving into the story of how the band came together. It felt natural, almost like reminiscing with an old friend rather than filming something for fans.

“At first, it was just the two of us,” Vi said, pointing between the two of you with a grin. “We were messing around, trying to figure out our sound. Then my younger sister decided to be extremely annoying while we practiced—always yapping about how two people weren’t a real band. Eventually, she dragged Ekko into this mess, and, well… here we are.”

You laughed, the memory still vivid. “Oh, I definitely remember the first time Jinx quite literally dragged him into that old room at school—the one we used for practice. She barged in, shouting about how Ekko had a garage we could use, and how she had all these brilliant ideas.”

Vi chuckled, shaking her head. “Yeah! I remember that. Poor Benzo looked so displeased with a bunch of teenagers making a racket in the back of his shop. I’m pretty sure he aged ten years in that first month alone.”

You both laughed, the camera kept rolling, but for a moment, it didn’t even feel like it was there.

As Vi continued talking about the process of creating the album—how the songs and lyrics meant so much to all of you—your mind began to wander. You couldn’t help but notice how effortlessly beautiful she looked, sitting there comfortably, her voice steady and confident as she spoke to the camera. The black hair dye had almost completely faded from her hair, leaving the natural pink vibrant and bright against her skin. Her hair had grown out a bit, just enough that it curled slightly at the ends, and you found yourself fighting the urge to reach out and drag your fingers through those soft, messy locks.

Your eyes traced the freckles scattered across her cheeks, the way they bridged her nose, delicate and familiar. And her eyes—God, her eyes sparkled when she talked about something she was passionate about, like the music, like this. It was the kind of sparkle that pulled you in, made you want to listen to her forever, just to keep that light alive.

It was almost like…

Oh.

No, no, no, no.

You were not catching feelings. That was impossible. This was supposed to be casual—just fun. You both knew that from the start. So what the fuck were you thinking?

Panic tightened in your chest, a cold, sharp edge to the realization sinking in. You were spiraling, and you barely registered Vi’s voice cutting through your thoughts.

“Hey,” she said, her brows furrowed, concern softening her features. “You good? Do you want to take a break?”

You blinked, trying to pull yourself out of the fog. “Huh? Sorry, what was the question?”

She tilted her head, studying you carefully. “Do you need a break? You look kinda out of it.”

Your heart was still racing, but you forced a tight smile. “Yeah, that would be great.” You stood up from the couch, barely meeting her eyes as you made a beeline for the bathroom.

Once inside, you shut the door behind you and leaned heavily against the sink, gripping its edges like it could anchor you to reality. Your reflection stared back, wide-eyed and flushed, like you’d been caught doing something you weren’t supposed to.

This is NOT happening. You mentally shouted at yourself, trying to shake the feeling off. *You’ve known her for years. The moment you start sleeping with her is the moment you catch feelings? Seriously?*

You turned on the tap, splashing cold water onto your face, hoping the chill would snap you out of it, wash away the thoughts clinging to your mind. But as the water dripped from your chin, pooling at the edges of the sink, the tightness in your chest remained.

Staring at your reflection, you whispered under your breath, “Get it together.”

But no matter how many times you repeated it, the weight of what you were feeling didn’t budge.

You took a deep breath, trying to steady yourself before stepping out of the bathroom. The moment you did, you saw Vi in the living room, methodically packing up the filming equipment. The casual ease with which she moved, like this was just another normal day, only made the knot in your chest tighten.

“What are you doing?” you asked, your voice sounding steadier than you felt.

Vi glanced up, pausing as she turned off the camera. “I think we’ve got enough material for today—maybe even the whole video,” she said, her tone light but tinged with something softer, more careful. “I can see you’re tired. I’ll come over tomorrow, and we can go through the footage, see what we can use. For now, you should rest.”

Her words were simple, but the small smile tugging at the corners of her lips wasn’t. It wasn’t just the usual smirk or playful grin—it was something else. Genuine concern. And that look … it hit you like a sucker punch.

Because all you could think about was how easy it would be to want this every day. To have her not just in fleeting moments, not just in casual touches or hurried nights. But fully. Completely. The idea burrowed itself deeper into your mind, wrapping around your thoughts like vines.

“Yeah,” you forced out, your voice quieter than before. “That sounds good.”

Vi gave you one last glance, like she wanted to say something more, but instead, she just nodded, slinging her bag over her shoulder before heading for the door. The soft click of it shutting behind her echoed louder than it should have.

And then it was just you. Alone.

You stood there for a moment, staring at the now-empty room, expecting some sense of relief to wash over you. But it didn’t. If anything, the silence made it worse.

You should’ve been able to crash the moment she left, but sleep was the last thing your body wanted. You were confused, frustrated—mad at yourself, mad at her, for making you feel this way. Your body felt heavy, physically exhausted, but your mind was running on overdrive, replaying every glance, every touch, every word she’d said.

You sank onto the couch, rubbing your hands over your face.

You’d told yourself from the start—this was supposed to be casual.Just a way to blow off steam, nothing more. But somewhere along the way, those lines had blurred, and now you didn’t know how to pull yourself back from the edge.

──────────────────────

masterlist - chapter ten

taglist: @saturnhas82moons @oidloid @vaebear @wicked-laugh @baylegend6 @nomarksonelegance @antobooh @80saturn

#vi x reader #vi x y/n #vi x you #vi arcane #arcane #arcane x female reader #arcane x y/n #arcane x reader #arcane x you #lily writes

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thewertsearch · 4 months ago

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@necrowyrm asked: happy new year!!! enjoy the last little bit of homestuck before act 6! Anonymous asked: You have NO IDEA how much I was looking forward to your reaction to this flash :D @teddy-bearer-of-bad-news asked: a very late congratulations from me for making it this far! i gotta say, saving CASCADE for new year's is probably the smartest thing i've heard all week. may your experience be nothing short of righteous, comrade Anonymous asked: Cascade … Even years latter knowing it almost by heart, every once in a while I will take a little quarter of an hour to rewatch it, Say what you want about Hussie but there is a good reason Homestuck became so iconic. @adeptarcanist asked: The leadup to Cascade was honestly my favorite sequence in Homestuck, and maybe one of my favorites in any media ever? The way the narrative splits apart into all of the different scenes swirling in towards the critical moment, both advancing main plots and finding time to spend a moment of melancholy with characters who’d been left behind (The Jaspers and Nepeta scene :( )… it’s such a strong narrative device, and the tone it generates is impeccable. @calamitascalliope asked: I literally watched the flash again, and it still gives me chills every single time. Welcome to your post-Cascade life. You won't be able to think about anything the same ever again @iris-in-the-dark-world asked: "she looks so cool… but she’s so tragic… but she looks so cool…" has become a brainworm for me. i too love the handmaid's design btw, cascade time has been i think the most anticipated non-personal event of the entire year for me. i'm so excited @publicuniversalworstie asked: I want you to know that I also opened Cascade and started watching with you right after I saw your "oh my god it has chapters" ask, and I finished just as you posted "I will never be the same" !! And I bet lots of other people did too <3 so it's like we all watched it together!!!! Happy New Year and thank you for liveblogging!!!! It's been a pleasure！(and will continue to be) @krixwell asked: I would like you to know that your "Right, we're good to go!" and "oh my god it has chapters" posts were posted right as I was outside watching midnight fireworks ring in 2025 for the Central European timezone. Happy new year! @captorations asked:

hey remember when rose just up and fucking said that. anyway congrats on reaching cascade! it absolutely wrecked me back in the day, i think i stared at those flaming curtains for a solid ten minutes as my brain permanently reconfigured. the first few notes of the track alone still give shivers. getting your reaction to cascade was a wonderful birthday present. (speaking of getting older: aradia 🤝 dulcinea also got that "distressingly short lifespan only to die early anyway" story thread going on. the parallels are paralleling.) anyway happy new year and congrats you are… slightly less than halfway done with homestuck. have fun!

Hey, guys. Cascade was so fucking good.

Like, there's really no competition; this is the best Flash page in the comic thus far. Peak music, peak animation, and absolutely a peak narrative. It tied up mountains of plot threads, providing complete answer to questions we're been asking for literally thousands of pages. It completed over a dozen arcs, both big and small. It made me gasp three times in fourteen minutes. It let Jade become a furry.

11/10, and I'm glad people had as much fun here as I did on New Year's Eve. Happy 2025, and happy Act 6!

@morganwick asked: Sally, predicting Cascade: "I have approximate knowledge of many things." @morganwick asked: "You literally have the whole world in the palm of your hands." -Sally to Jadesprite, December 16, 2024 (You might also want to reread post/770701212350857216 in light of recent developments.)

Hah!

I mean, based on her powerset, it made sense that Jadesprite would do something like this eventually, but it's pretty funny that she did it more or less immediately.

And in the end, CD really was a tricky little bastard. We'll definitely need to keep a closer eye on him, next time around.

Anonymous asked: Take a moment to consider that if anyone were to use the Homestuck website as it stands now instead of the Collection program, Cascade would have been presented in the YouTube player in Standard Definition, artifacted to hell, with a clear boundary showing the dimensions of the video from the very start. Preservation is so important.

Jeez, you're not kidding. The 1080p is fine, I guess, but it certainly doesn't hit like the Flash version does, especially with its lack of moving panels.

I know something had to change when Flash kicked the bucket, but surely there was a better way to preserve the video's soul.

Anonymous asked: to give you some of an idea of what homestuck fandom looked like during this time period, im cribbing from a very popular homestuck post: “first, this upd8 was something that we had been waiting for for WEEKS. A literally unprecedented wait period at the time. We were used to suckling at the teat of daily updates, a constant stream of conversation and plot twists and buildup, and as EOA5, we were finally going to figure out what all these countdowns and plot threads and disconnected elements were building up for. And when the progress bar reached 100%, and when the page FINALLY loaded on 10/25/11, it was chaos. This was 2011, a primetime peak point and growth period of Homestuck fan density.” (…) “MSPA crashed, as it had started to during the last few big [S] updates. Hussie had already bought new servers in advance, but even when allegedly thousands of dollars were spent it couldn't handle the accidental DDOS attack of Homestuck fans. People were up all night waiting for this upd8, the curiosity was killing me. I know at some point he was receiving at least 1 million unique visitors per day to his site [correction: according to Hussie’s tumblr, upwards of 2 million during this time], and even though Hussie had foreseen such traffic and thusly hosted [S] Cascade on Newgrounds, a dedicated video streaming site, Newgrounds was similarly unprepared for the sheer amount of people frantically mashing the play and refresh buttons, and also crashed. Immediately. MSPA and Newgrounds crashed definitively for at least two nights in a row” (…) “Andrew Hussie has gone on record to say this was one of the few times he thought Homestuck wasn’t worth it, because the sheer unbelievable cost (was it $10,000?) [correction: according to Hussie’s tumblr, it looked like it was going to cost $100,000 to keep [S] Cascade up for several days] of servers and the chaos of no one able to see the upd8 and crashing nearly every site after. He was tweeting during the whole debacle, stating he was reluctant to put it up on Youtube because of all the moving elements of the flash, and style, and how youtube degraded the quality of the file size, and how he tried to scratch out buffer time and pauses by putting periods of silence between each section of the 14 minute upd8, the longest upd8 yet” “So after Newgrounds patooted, he didn’t put it on youtube and instead put up the entire flash file on Megaupload, where it could be downloaded in it’s entirety to be watched. UNFORTUNATELY, Megaupload also crashed very quickly, which Hussie felt much headache over. But before that happened I managed to get the file, since I happened to be up very early that night! Next it was on dropbox, which didn’t crash but had “link unavailable” on and off. ”Spoilers were flying everywhere, people didn’t understand everything that had happened, and by the time the timeline of events in and out of [S] Cascade was all straightened out, people became even MORE hype. Like this whole thing lasted at least four days, and on top of that, the upd8 was good. Fandom exploded.” it is impossible to quantify the experience. The fact hussie was going to have to fork over A HUNDRED THOUSAND DOLLARS to host it is crazy. I am never going to be over it.

Cascade's complete obliteration of the Flash-hosting internet says a lot about huge Homestuck truly was - but I think an even bigger indicator of the comic's success is the fact that Hussie dropped literally thousands of dollars on server upgrades to host the thing. That's not an investment you make unless you're expecting some serious returns.

#homestuck liveblog #full liveblog #act 5.2 #asks #also happy belated birthday @captorations. what a birthdate to have fr fr

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