#but it is WAY longer than i meant it to be

[lulu-draws-stuff]

How does that sound?

[florencemtrash]

The Shadowsinger & The Inkbird: Chapter Twenty-Five

Summary: Y/n's clairvoyance is a gift from the Mother, but it feels more like a curse. With the power to gain knowledge through touch alone, Y/n holes herself up in The Alcove and hopes her powers and parentage will remain a secret. But things will change after the Summer Solstice ball and a chance encounter with a certain Shadowsinger.

Warnings: Physical injury (i.e., Rhys and Cassian recovering post-Koschei), fluff, mating ceremonyyyyyyyyy (y'all I'm so excited I got so emotional writing this one)

The Shadowsinger & The Inkbird: Masterlist

Masterlist of Masterlists

It was strange how the absence of things could be so obvious. How silence could be more obnoxious than a crowded room. 

Three weeks had passed since Koschei’s death, and everyone was afraid to bring attention to the glaring absence of Cassian’s arm and Rhysand’s wings. 

At every meal, Nesta carefully cut up the Lord of Bloodshed’s food, and every night, Rhysand winnowed up to his bedroom. He no longer needed a wheelchair to move around, but walking up the stairs was a battle he won only half the time.

Azriel’s shadows were still missing. Gone to the wind. But their whispers grew in strength each day and Azriel would strain his ear to hear them. It gave you both hope that they’d return in time. 

“Daddy.” 

Rhysand froze halfway up the stairs, leaning against the wall with his legs crossed at the ankles. He subtly hid his hand behind his back, concealing the cane he relied on to walk around his own home. 

“Yes, Nyx.” 

The boy stood with his mother, her hand resting gently on his shoulder. Her wings were on full display, as were Nyx’s, in preparation for their daily flying lessons. For the first time, Rhysand would be unable to join them.

“We’re going flying. Do you… do you want to watch?” Nyx smiled shyly, one arm wrapped around his mother’s leg as he stared at the ground. “I can finally summon my wings during free fall. Just like we practiced.”

Rhysand strained to smile. “Go ahead with your mother. I’ll join you on the balcony soon.” 

“Ok,” the boy murmured and walked down the hall towards his parents’ bedroom. 

Feyre moved to be with her husband, her wings disappearing in a melting of light. She gently cupped his face in her hands. 

“It’s ok, my love,” Rhysand whispered, kissing her palms. Feyre smoothed back the swoop of hair that fell over his forehead. The strands were damp with sweat. “I don’t want you to keep Nyx waiting.” 

“Nyx is a patient boy. More patient than his father.” 

Rhys chuckled, blinking away tears. It was silly to hide these emotions from Feyre — she felt everything he did — but he wanted to at least try to be strong. To be her equal. Her High Lord. 

“Take your time, Rhys.” Her lips brushed against his and a piece of that ache in his chest fizzled out. It was incredible how his mate and wife could ease his burden with such a small touch. “I’ll be waiting with our son.” 

The moment Feyre disappeared into their bedroom and shut the door, Rhysand snapped his cane in half. Wood splinters flew out, embedding themselves in the wall and in the staircase, and he threw what remained down the stairs. 

Feyre, with all her love and patience, gave him the space to be angry. To grieve. But it helped her to know that Cassian, Azriel, and Emerie were already on their way. 

Rhysand made it to the third floor landing without his cane before the pain in his back became impossible to ignore. He sank to the floor. 

“Rhys—” The trio crowded around him. 

“Don’t say a fucking word, Cass.” They froze beside him, tucking their wings in tight. “I used to think the steps to the House of Wind were hard. Now I can’t even climb the stairs in my own fucking house.”

He hated this. He hated this with a burning passion. He was meant to be High Lord. He should have been at Feyre’s side, shaking out his wings and getting ready to taste the wind with his son. Instead here he was, sweat-soaked and shaking in front of his brothers and Emerie. 

After his mother and Selene’s death, he’d promised himself he would never lose his wings. They were a physical reminder of his Illyrian heritage. A heritage which so often went unseen beneath the veneer of a High Lord. Decades spent Under the Mountain had only cemented that promise in blood and salt. 

Amarantha may have stolen many things from him, but she’d never taken his wings. She’d never touched them. She’d never even seen them. 

Poison-laced calls of Amarantha’s whore and half-breed had always paled in comparison to the freedom of flying. A freedom he no longer had. 

“I’m not an Illyrian anymore,” Rhysand whispered grimly. The muscles in his back rolled, and even that small movement sent a thread of pain down his spine.  

Cassian and Azriel were stunned into silence. But not Emerie. Her gaze was too piercing, her tone too frank and unrelenting as she said, “My mother died without her wings.” 

Rhysand looked up at the female, slender and sharp as a blade. 

“At thirty-seven years old her father took a butcher’s knife and hacked them off before burying them in the snow just outside Windhaven.” She cocked her head to the side. “Tell me, was she not an Illyrian then?” 

“That’s not what I meant,” Rhysand said pathetically. 

“It’s exactly what you meant. But you’re wrong. Your wings don’t make you an Illyrian, Rhys. If they did, myself and over half the females in those camps would have been banished from Illyria a long time ago.” 

There was a silence that followed, tense and filled with guilt until Emerie spoke again. 

“Do you know what they say about you in the camps? And I’m not talking about the males who whisper half-breed behind your back.” 

Rhysand took his head. 

“The young females whisper about the day you’ll find them worthy enough to steal away to Velaris — to your precious city you’d never let come to harm. They talk about the shops they’d get to see with the frosted cakes in the windows and the enchanted houses where they wouldn’t have to slave away over a stove or wring towels until their hands bled. That one day, you’ll recognize that they’re dreamers too who’ve only had their worst nightmares come true. The older ones are wiser than that. They don’t talk about escaping to a city they don’t know and don’t love, surrounded by strangers who might call them lesser-fae. They build their lives in the cold, and when the males come to burn it down, they either endure and build it up again, or they fight back however they can.” 

Emerie regarded him carefully, eyes halting on his violet eyes and the sharpness of his ears. 

“Wings don’t make you an Illyrian,” she repeated, “It’s in your blood. It’s what you're born into and the hands that raise you. Never say “I’m not an Illyrian” again, do you understand me?”

Rhysand swallowed the burning lump in his throat. Touched the short tips of his ears and wiped the tears gathering in his violet eyes. 

“Azriel, could you—could you bring me my cane? Please?” 

His brother walked down the steps without hesitation and retrieved the broken halves. 

It was a thing of beauty and strength, carved from ironwood and stained so dark it may as well have been sliced from a night sky. Rhysand put the two pieces together and closed his eyes. 

It was easy, miniscule magic to put the cane back together and far more difficult a feat to stand upright once again. He might have toppled backwards if not for Emerie. She gave him her shoulder to lean against.

“Still an Illyrian,” he murmured. 

It was a promise to himself and to his family. To the three Illyrian warriors who had found him. 

“Still an Illyrian.” Emerie patted his arm. “I understand you’ll still feel some self-pity for a while. It’s natural, but… try not to do it in a room I’m in.” 

“I can do that.” Rhysand leaned against his cane, limping towards his bedroom where his mate and son were waiting. “Oh and Emerie.” She turned her head towards him. “Thank you.” 

“Do you want me to just cut it for you?” 

“No, I like the way Nesta does it.” 

“Since when did you get so picky?” 

“Since I lost my fucking arm, Mor.” 

You snorted into your glass of wine and Azriel smiled as the pair continued bickering. He kept one hand under the table, rubbing small circles into your thigh. It wasn’t until Nesta decided to grace the early morning with her presence that Cassian turned his attention away from Mor, drawing Nesta down for a kiss. 

A fresh bruise painted his cheekbone purple, pink, and blue. 

Nesta gripped Cassian’s chin, turning his face to the side for a better look. “Who did this?”

“Emerie,” he said cheerfully. His grin was brighter than the sun. 

Today was the first time he’d sparred with anyone since he lost his arm and Emerie hadn’t gone easy on him. On the contrary, she’d taken every advantage her two arms afforded her until Cassian felt more tender than a steak on a butcher’s board. He hadn’t been thrown on his back so many times since the mating frenzy. 

It was a dirty, cunning way of fighting and he’d never appreciated the Illyrian female more. 

Nesta smirked at her friend with a glint in her eye that looked suspiciously like gratitude. 

Emerie only shrugged. She hadn’t experienced the same kind of loss that Cassian and Rhysand had, but she’d learned a great deal after her wing clipping. Carrying limbs that no longer worked was not so different from losing them entirely. It was all about a shifting of control and weight — about finding a new center of gravity and using weakness to your advantage. 

“Did you go easy on him?” Nesta asked. 

Emerie snorted. “Obviously not.”

“She fractured three ribs, but they’re healed now.” 

“Very nice.” 

Nesta settled down at her rightful seat beside Cassian and wordlessly cut up his breakfast. 

“Thanks, Nes.” 

“It’s the least I could do.” 

Cassian chuckled and pulled her close until she was nearly in his lap. “Don’t give me so much power, darling.” 

She huffed. “What power?”

“The power to win any argument in the future.” He stuck what remained of his right arm into the air and gave it a shake. It was a gentle, teasing reminder of who had cut it off in the first place. 

Nesta narrowed her eyes until they were two clips of ice. “Don’t make me regret letting you live.” 

“That’s much better.” 

Some people needed a gentle touch after horrible events, but there was nothing gentle about Cassian. He’d been born with the wild in his blood. He knew how to adapt and survive, and if surviving meant he would lose his arm and get more time with his mate, it was a trade he was more than happy to make.

Azriel seemed to be in agreement. He never took his eyes off you. More interested in seeing your reaction than hearing which comment had brought it to life.

Feyre nudged Rhys, eyes wide and eyebrows raised as she looked back and forth from her mate to you and Azriel. 

Now? Rhys asked. 

Yes, now! They’ve been staring at each other for the last thirty minutes. It’s honestly unnerving... Do you think they’ve already accepted the bond?

There’s no way in hell. We would have known. 

Azriel’s terribly good at keeping secrets. 

The fact that they haven’t been missing the last few months is proof enough. 

All the more reason to bring this up now so we can finally put them out of their misery. 

Feyre shot to her feet at the head of the table and Rhysand scrambled to attention after  her. 

“It has come to our attention that we never did say congratulations to a special couple in this room.”

“Oh gods,” Azriel muttered. 

Your face turned warm as everyone’s eyes and grins fell upon you and your mate.

“You didn’t think we forgot about your mating bond, did you?” Gwyn teased. 

“We were kind of hoping you had,” you said. “Not that we aren’t happy or—” You glanced over at Azriel. 

The first night you’d woken up in the Dawn Court you’d tried to crawl into his bones — an odd mixture of desperation and longing urging you to have your way with one other. Now, you were embarrassed to think that the first thing you’d tried to do after nearly dying, was sleep with your mate. 

Azriel smiled, bending towards you like a flower seeking sunlight in silent encouragement. It was such a small, natural gesture, and one that everyone noticed. Which also meant they clocked the blush on your cheeks as you gripped Azriel’s hand under the table. 

You cleared your throat. “We weren’t sure it was a good time with everything going on. We thought it might be wise to wait before—” 

“No more waiting!” Cassian declared, slamming his fist against the table so hard the silverware bounced. “I swear to the fucking gods, if you’re not in the frenzy by the end of the week, Y/n, I’ll have you force feed Azriel myself.” 

“We agreed we’d be gentle in our approach,” Elain reminded him. 

“There was a plan in place for this?” Lucien sputtered. “And you were a part of it?” 

She scoffed and lightly slapped his arm. Elain was a gentle, lovely creature when she wanted to be, and nothing melted her heart more than a good love story. 

“I think we are in need of a celebration,” Vassa whispered. It was the first collection of words the firebird had spoken in months. 

She’d sat for every meal at Lucien’s side completely silent. But this time, she reached a hand across the table and slid it into yours, squeezing tightly. Flashes of memory passed behind her eyes — memories of Jurian.

They weren’t fae. A mating bond was never in the cards for them. Which was why she felt strongly that you should be greedy with the time you had together. For there was no telling when it would end.

You sucked in a breath. You’d spoken at length about this with Azriel, tossing ideas back and forth during the night when the bond made your blood sing for more contact with the Shadowsinger. More touches.  

But you’d agreed that it was inappropriate to have even a private mating ceremony when everyone was hurting. To abandon them and disappear into the frenzy. 

Perhaps you’d both been wrong. 

Given how quick everyone was to swarm you and Azriel, you were definitely wrong. 

Rhysand hobbled over with his cane, kissing your cheek with a loud, obnoxious smack before aggressively disheveling Azriel’s hair. 

“The cottage—” Azriel began.

“I’ll have it finished by tonight.” Rhysand promised. 

Cassian threw his one good arm around Azriel’s shoulder, tugging him out of his chair and towards the door on a mission. Poor Lucien was also coerced into joining whatever debauchery Cassian had planned for their afternoon. He sulked after the pair with Rhysand. 

Nesta, Feyre, and Mor crowded around you, already deliberating which of the many-frequented boutiques in Velaris they would need to visit for your mating ceremony attire. 

You were positively overwhelmed by the attention and the realization that this was all happening. 

By midnight, you would be mated to the love of your life. 

Azriel slipped out from under Cassian’s arm, racing back across the room and falling to his knees. “I need a moment with you.” He breathed, thinly-veiled hunger in his eyes. 

One nod was all it took before he was guiding you to the kitchen and slamming the door on everyone’s whistling. 

Azriel pressed you against the kitchen door, chest heaving so hard you could feel every beat of his heart against your chest. 

You’d both been holding back with each other ever since returning to the Night Court. Propriety and respect for his brothers had demanded you wait to express your love and wanting. You didn’t want to slap them in the face with joy. 

But now that you had everyone’s overwhelming approval, well… Azriel was finding it nearly impossible to wait even a moment longer. 

He pressed his lips to yours and didn’t let go of his soft grip on your waist until you were both gasping for breath. But then you kissed him back, swallowing his sighs and gentle groans like there was honey on his tongue. Sweet and addictive and—

Rhysand rudely knocked on the door, his sultry voice a purr. “In the kitchen, Azriel? Really? I would have expected more from a gentleman like you.” 

“Fuck off, Rhys.” 

The High Lord chuckled, but slipped away all the same. 

Azriel grinned against your lips, your hands clasped together between your bodies. “I just wanted one last kiss before tonight.” 

“Tonight.” You nodded frantically. 

Tonight. 

You were doing this. You were really doing this. 

Then you realized what he’d said. “I won’t see you before then?”

“I don’t think the others will let us.” 

Your laughs rang in the air, bouncing off the kitchen cabinets like wedding bells. 

On the other side of your door you could feel everyone’s anticipation. And you couldn't keep them waiting much longer. They might just break down the door. 

“I’ll see you tonight.” You whispered before stealing one last kiss. 

“Tonight.” Azriel agreed. His breath curled around your ear, lips brushing against the tip as he promised, “Until then.”

Feyre, Nesta, Gwyn, Emerie, Elain, and Mor descended upon the Palace of Thread and Jewels, all too eager to heap your arms full of the most expensive lace money could buy. 

You were about to marry into the Night Court and had a High Lord father who needed to make up for centuries of fatherly absence. There was more than enough gold to throw around.

“What do you think of this?” Feyre asked, draping the pale blue silk over your shoulder.

The clothier’s shop was bustling in the late morning, but no one dared step foot into the private room your family was set up in. The enchanted curtain blocked out all noise — tthe pinnacle of privacy.

You stood alone on a low platform, swishing the skirts of your dress and imagining what the finished product might look like. 

Farron, the clothier, had been quick to stitch a muslin mock up of the design you’d chosen, knotted fingers shocking in their dexterity as needle and thread disappeared and reappeared in her hand like some trick of the eye. She hadn’t even taken your measurements. One spin with your arms outstretched and she’d set about cutting the exact length of material needed for your mating ceremony gown. 

It was no wonder that she was Rhysand’s preferred clothier.

It still felt like a dream. Some wonderful, impossible dream as you took in the sight of the fabric over your chest. 

It glistened like moonlight and flowed like river water.

“Feyre, it’s perfect,” You breathed, touching the silken threads beneath your fingertips. 

“An excellent choice,” Farron said with a smile. She stood dutifully off to the side, tortoise-rimmed glasses growing her eyes to bug-like proportions.

You were a lovely thing in her eyes. A fine match for the Shadowsinger, indeed. 

Now, no one had told her that that was the cause for celebration. But she’d been clothing the Night Court males for a long while and knew them like the back of her hand. And you? You were made for the Shadowsinger. That much was clear. 

It was from centuries of experience that she classified the soft parting of your mouth and wide eyes. It was the look mates and brides alike adopted when they’d found the perfect dress. The one that would make them feel as perfect and precious as a pearl.

Your brows furrowed in concern. “My mating ceremony is tonight. Will it be ready by then?”

“Pfffft.” The clothier slapped her chest indignantly. “It will be ready in three hours time. You can return once after you’ve finished your shopping and we’ll have a final ceremony look ready for you, my dear.” 

With a dress being sewn together at Farron’s, Mor hurried you along to what she believed was the most critical part of any mating ceremony dress — the lingerie. The ordeal left a permanent blush on your cheeks as you quickly moved on to the shoemaker and then the jeweler. 

“Which one did you decide on?” Mor asked once again. She trailed at your heels, resting her chin on your shoulder as you kept your wares clutched to your chest. 

“I’m not telling you.” 

“Why not?” She whined. Red fingernails grazed the tissue paper that peaked out from the edges of the lingerie box. 

“Because that is for Azriel to know, and only Azriel,” you said, snatching the box out of her grasp. 

Nesta laughed. “What does it matter which pair she’s picked? It’s not like it will survive the first night of the frenzy.” 

Your cheeks burned with color. 

Mor giggled at your shyness. “Don’t act coy now, Y//n. We all know what you four read in your free time.” 

“Don’t act like you don’t benefit, love.” Emerie teased, squeezing Mor’s hip. 

“I never suggested such a thing.” 

Gwyn gagged when they kissed and everyone broke apart into fits of laughter in the streets, leaning against shoulders and stumbling on the cobblestones as they caught their breath. 

You were pressed in on all sides by familiar bodies, a comforting mixture of perfumes, and the sounds of laughter.

It’s happening. It’s really happening. 

Your grin could have put the sun to shame as you bounced on your heels in front of the mirror. 

Pale blue silk dipped down to the center of your chest and fell off your shoulders like mist. Wide, airy sleeves hovered at your elbows, ending in curls of hand-woven lace. A pair of ribbon-tie shoes and ear-tip cuffs completed the ensemble. 

They were both blue for Azriel — for your mate — who currently stood awestruck by the door. 

You didn’t startle when you caught a sliver of his reflection in the mirror. In fact, you were rather pleased to see his slack jaw and glistening eyes. 

“What do you think?” You asked as Azriel slipped out from the darkness and into your old bedroom. 

You hardly stepped foot in here anymore. Azriel’s bedroom had solidly become yours. Your clothes were mixed in with his. Your perfume bottles and soaps lined his bathroom. Your scent was tied to his bed, or rather your bed. 

“I think… I think you’re a dream, Y/n.” He spoke with a sigh. 

He melted into the curve of your neck, hands ghosting over your shoulders with a feather-light touch. 

He shook his head, as if disappointed. 

“No,” he corrected himself, “You’re far better than a dream because you’re real, and I can’t believe you’re mine.” 

“I could say the same about you,” you whispered. 

You leaned back against his chest and breathed deeply, feeling your heart soothe itself to the rhythm of his breathing and the scent of mountain air and cedar trees. 

He was beautiful. Black velvet encased his broad shoulders, cutting out a silhouette of pitch black night and highlighting the glow of his hazel eyes — like two chips of amber aglow in a dark wood. 

You couldn’t stop yourself from staring and threading your fingers into his soft, black curls, eliciting a soft groan from his lips that had your blood stirring to life. 

“I thought we were supposed to meet downstairs.” 

Azriel smiled. “I selfishly wanted to be the first to see you.” 

“That’s not selfish at all,” You hummed. You began tracing the gold cuffs that spanned the length of his ears and the subtle embroidery at the wrists and front of his shirt. They were distinctly Day Court fashions, and he wore them well. “These are new.” 

“I may or may not have reached out to your father for advice when picking out my clothes.” 

“I like them. Day Court colors suit you. They bring out the gold flecks in your eyes.” 

Azriel smiled, kissing the curve of your ears and playing with the sapphire necklace clasped around your neck. The drag of metal and fingertips over your chest had you shivering.  

You gently tugged at his hair and he obeyed the unspoken command to lean down and capture your lips in a kiss. Soft sounds spilled from both of you as he walked you back towards the wall and gently pressed you against it, flatting his hands by the sides of your head. 

Azriel got lost in the taste of you. Your hands in his hair. The feeling of your hips flush against his. Every movement was subtle, but eager, in its wanting and Azriel knew that when he finally had you beneath him, he’d be ruined… If he wasn’t ruined already. 

There was another reason he’d wanted to see you first before relinquishing you to the formalities of a mating ceremony. 

He’d been on edge all day, unused to being the unbridled center of attention among his brothers. Cassian was brash and loud, Rhysand flirtatious and passionate. Even Lucien radiated an undeniable charisma that made him popular within crowds. 

But Azriel had always prized quiet and peace above all else. He wanted to feel that peace again. 

The bond rose within him like high tide, spilling color and light into his chest as you pressed your forehead against his and cradled the curve of his neck. 

He breathed deep and he breathed freely, feeling something in his soul mend itself with a roll of anticipation. A tendril of cold wrapped around his ear and whispered in a language only Azriel could understand.

Too long, master. It’s been too long.

Azriel’s eyes flew open. He’d nearly forgotten the shape of their words — the language that he’d been taught to speak after years spent in the dark. Months of soft spoken words he could barely make out became a chorus of congratulations as they sensed the connection that now bound you and Azriel together. 

They’d known about it since the beginning, but now that you were also aware, they were ecstatic.

Black shadows spilled out from his skin, eagerly wrapping you up in a shell of twisting darkness. They embraced you, kissing your cheeks with cool, feathery touches. 

Azriel swallowed your laughter, hands diving down and lifting up your dress so he could squeeze your thighs and wrap your legs around him. 

It was a kiss made of teeth and longing and relief. With his shadows having returned and a mating bond ready to be accepted, Azriel felt invincible. Like he was cradling the world in his arms. 

But it was ended all too soon by a shadow in his ear that warned, They’re almost at the door. 

Gods he missed having them around. 

You gasped, picking up on the sound of Lucien and Helion’s strong footsteps coming towards the door. They were supposed to walk you downstairs before handing you off to your mate, and although Azriel had made leaps and bounds in earning their blessing you didn’t think they’d take kindly to seeing the Shadowsinger flush between your legs just before your mating ceremony. 

“Shit.” You hissed, untangling yourself from Azriel as he fixed your dress and struggled to hide his laughter. 

You pushed him backwards, masking both your scents and shoving him inside the wardrobe. 

“My Y/n, what are you doing?” Azriel asked. He needed to bend just to fit inside the empty wardrobe. His eyes glittered with amusement, shadows pooling around his wings. 

“I-I was going to try and hide you before my father and brother come inside but” — a handful of shadows curled around your wrists and ankles, intent on becoming permanent fixtures for as long as you were separated from your mate —  “I see that’s not necessary anymore.” 

Azriel grinned and pulled you in for one last kiss. “I’ll see you downstairs,” he whispered just as Lucien’s polite knock came at the door.  

“I’ll see you downstairs.” 

His shadows swirled around him and he melted into the darkness. 

Mating ceremonies were fluid, adaptable affairs. They could be as extravagant and public or as humble and private as one desired. It made no difference. You were his, and he was yours. Now and forever. 

You would have accepted the bond with Azriel in your father’s palace or in a desert wasteland. Still, you had to agree that home was best. 

The largest room in the River House — the dining room — had been cleared out for the purpose of your mating ceremony. Candlelight flickered atop the fireplace mantle where you, Azriel, and the priestess stood, and within sconces dripping with wisteria and baby’s breath along the wall. The light of a thousand lanterns, gauzy and warm, lit up the gardens outside the House.

“All kneel,” the priestess said, holding out two crowns of lavender and lilies of the valley. 

Everyone kneeled in a loose half-circle. 

Her dusty blue robes brushed against the floor as she placed the crown atop Azriel’s head and then yours. At her instruction, you shifted on the floor, facing each other with smiles that couldn’t be contained.

Azriel’s eyes burned bright, as if all the gold in the world had been distilled and dropped into them. 

You took the candles the priestess held out, holding them in your left hand and clasping together your right. 

Azriel snuck a quick kiss to your palm before the priestess could wrap your wrists and hands together with ribbons of blue and gold. She drifted her fingers over the candles and lit them with a flourish. 

Before the Mother, the priestess, and your family, you exchanged your vows. 

Secret glances passed between you and the Shadowsinger. Brief smiles tugged at the corners of your lips. Squeezing hands soothed your soul and grounded you in the present as you spoke the words together:

I give to you the hands of a warrior, lover, friend, and mate, till the darkness comes and our endings wake. 

I give to you my name, to hold on your lips and to pass on your years in hope and longing, in joy and tears.

Blood of blood. Bone of bone. I shall be yours, and you shall be mine. 

Until we return to the earth and hear the Mother’s song. Until the end of our days—

“Until death and beyond,” Azriel whispered the final vows. 

“Until death and beyond,” you replied. 

“Who the hell spilled the champagne!” 

The floor was already sticky with it, grabbing onto Rhysand’s shoes as he stepped out of the puddle. A guilty Feyre chugged the last dregs in the bottle, magicking away the spill with a snap of her fingers and a sultry wink towards her mate. She shrieked with laughter when Rhys limped over to her, collapsing around her shoulders and blowing kisses against her neck. 

Nyx sat at Amren’s feet on the floor, struggling to hold his violet eyes open as she scratched his head with her silver-tipped nails. Amren was not one for parties and regarded the room with bored eyes. 

Mor sat in the seat of honor — Emerie’s lap — whispering gossip in the Illyrian’s ear as you and Azriel tried to make yourselves sparse in the corner. 

You were half-hidden behind Azriel’s wings as he leaned his head against your shoulder. Leave it to you two to hide at your own mating ceremony. 

Lucien and Elain drank wine by the kitchen. She left her hand comfortably on his upper arm and smiled when he tucked a strand of wavy brown hair behind her ear. They were a handsome couple — all pale colors and golden gazes, like sunshine spilling over a new day. 

Helion, entertaining as always, dazzled the group that had assembled around him composed of Gwyn, Feyre, Rhysand, Cassian, and Nesta. Every so often his bright eyes would land on you and he’d wink before pointing threateningly in Azriel’s direction. 

Azriel’s shoulders shook with silent laughter and he dipped his lips to your ears and asked, “Do you think he’ll ever approve of me?”

“He already approves of you, he just doesn’t want you to know.” 

“He’s a smart male for keeping such a secret. My ego may grow too big for you to handle if he compliments me outright.” 

“Didn’t he once invite you to his bed?”

“That’s not very special coming from Helion.” 

You burst out laughing, attracting everyone’s attention as you buried your face in Azriel’s chest to stifle the noise. He laughed aloud as well. Head thrown back, chest and shoulders shaking. It was a full-bodied laugh that harmonized with yours as he wrapped his arms around you and rubbed your back. 

Azriel’s laughter had once been a rare sound, but you drew it out of him so easily, like a musician with their instrument. 

Feyre grinned and clapped her hands together. All at once the dining room rearranged itself. The candle flames grew brighter. A table laden with food and chairs popped into existence. 

For such a special occasion, you and Azriel sat at the head of the table, subtly leaning against one another with your legs tangled beneath the tablecloth as you ate.

There was a cake still waiting to be cut in the kitchen — a cake that you’d baked with Azriel’s name written all over it in invisible ink. 

Nyx twisted around in his chair, eyes utterly fixated on the seemingly endless rows of lanterns glowing in the garden. 

“Mom.” Nyx tugged on Feyre’s wrist as she cleaned his cheek. “When will I get to float the lanterns?” 

Feyre looked to you and Azriel. 

The lanterns were an old Day Court tradition. On the longest night of the year, Day Court citizens dared to step outside into the dark and light up the sky with their own sun-painted lanterns. It was a way to keep the darkness at bay for a little while longer. A time to add your own light to the night sky. 

“Now,” you smiled. “Let’s do it now.” 

You all spilled out into the gardens, cheering Nyx on as he raced ahead of everyone else with short, energetic strides. His wings flared out behind him, catching the name of the wind as it whispered against the velvety membrane. 

“Not yet!” Rhys reminded him. “You need to let your aunt and uncle go first.” 

You and Azriel picked up the largest lantern of them all, delicate rice paper crinkling as you held it up. The starburst-shaped lantern glowed faintly. A burning sun. A fallen star.

Everyone bent over in the flowers and grasses, hunting to find the second-best lantern for themselves. 

“This one’s for Velaria,” Nyx said, holding up a small, round orb. “This one’s for you, Daddy.” A pale lavender lantern was placed carefully in his father’s hand. “And this one’s for Mommy.” 

“Why thank you, honey.” Feyre bent low, kissing her son’s velvety black hair as she held Velaria in her arms. 

“Is everyone ready?” You called out. 

Cheers sounded from all around. Particularly energetic whoops came from Cassian and Mor, who tipped back their heads and howled like wolves, ready to throw their lanterns to the sky. 

Azriel tucked you beneath the curve of his wings and pressed a gentle kiss against your temple before you both let your magic seep into the lantern and sent it skywards. 

There was chatter from all sides. Soft gasps leaving open-mouth stares as a dozen lanterns started drifting upwards like miniature suns. 

“It’s all you, Nyx!” Azriel shouted. 

The boy leapt into action, finding the tallest patch of ground in the garden to make his directorial debut. He fixed the tilt of his bowtie and bent his knees. Slowly and dramatically he curled his fingers, raising his hands upwards like he meant to pull water out of the ground. 

He looked like an orchestra conductor leading his players in a great crescendo as the remaining one-thousand lanterns took off into the night sky. 

You gasped and flung your hands up to your lips. Three hundred and forty-three years you’d been alive, and this was the most beautiful sight you’d ever seen. 

You turned to Azriel only to find that he was already staring at you — at the light of a thousand suns reflected in your eyes. 

You found yourself proven wrong, and not for the first time. The lanterns were only the second most beautiful sight… and you wanted to see more.

Azriel read the idea forming in your mind and nodded. 

Without hesitation, you took his hand, slinking through the now darkening garden as everyone else’s attention was directed towards the sky. 

Lanterns arced through the darkness, staining the sky warm orange as if a painter had swept her brush over the black canvas. 

Shadows nipped at your heels and covered your tracks, urging you onward as you slipped back into the House and then the kitchen. 

You didn’t even bother cutting the cake. After rummaging around in the kitchen drawers for a spoon, you carved out a spoonful of chocolate cake with strawberries and a healthy dollop of whipped cream frosting — Azriel’s favorite. 

The Shadowsinger froze, eyes darting back and forth between the cake and your flushed face. Your eyes glowed in the dim light, marked by a quiet, otherworldly beauty Azriel had never been able to resist. 

“Don’t tell me you’re second guessing this now?” You breathed, moving the spoon closer to his lips. 

“I just… I just want to make sure I remember everything about tonight,” he whispered. 

He adjusted the crown of lavender and lilies on your head, picking up a loose flower petal that had drifted onto your bare shoulders. His touch was soft. Gentle. Reverent as he trailed his fingers up your neck and brushed his thumb along your jaw. 

His lips closed around the spoon, dragging off every crumb and lick of frosting while never taking his eyes off of you. 

It was probably a delicious cake, but all Azriel would remember was the taste of your lips that followed as he drew you to his body. 

When the bond had first snapped for him, he thought the world had cracked in two. Like the sharp clap of lightning across the sky. 

What followed after the sugar and chocolate melted on his tongue was the thunder — a resounding tremor as the bond glowed hot as iron before cooling into something permanent and unbreakable. 

Azriel let out a breathless noise. Something between a sigh and a shudder. He clutched your back, nails dragging lightly along your exposed skin in a way that had you melting. 

“I want to go. Now.” You rasped. 

You wanted him desperately. More than words could describe. 

Azriel scooped you up into his arms, and together you vanished into the shadows before anyone even realized you were missing.

<- Previous Chapter Next Chapter ->

______________

Author's Note:

Y'all, I just love Y/n and Azriel so much...

THEY FUCKING DESERVE A PROPER MATING CEREMONY LIKE DAMNIT THEY BOTH NEARLY DIED LIKE 3X AND YES I'M GOING TO WRITE A SEX SCENE NEXT CHAPTER, I DON'T CARE, THEY DESERVE THIS, Y'ALL DESERVE THIS FOR PUTTING UP WITH ME FOR THE LAST 6 MONTHS AND OVER 100K WORDS LIKE YOU ARE THE TRUE MVPs AND I APPRECIATE YOU IMMENSELY!!! (*but also, if you're not into reading smut scenes, I'll write the next chapter in such a way that you can just skip over it and not miss anything continuity-wise)

THANK YOU FOR READING!

We're almost at the end I've got like two chapters left, one of which is already mostly written, and maybe the epilogue will be it's own thing or part of the last chapter i don't know and just UGH it's almost over... ok i'm going to end this author's note here because I'm getting sad just thinking about this fic ending

^^ my reaction when I realize I've almost finished the longest/most intensive writing project in my life born out of love for the romantasy genre

^^ my reaction when I realize I've almost finished the longest/most intensive writing project in my life born out of love for the romantasy genre

[cyberseong]

distraction.

pairings: yunho x f!reader

genre: smut, college setting, fwb(?).

warnings/topics: there isn’t much plot at all, sub!yunho, perv yunho too just bc, praise kink, overstimulation, pussy eating, thigh riding.

a/n: i haven’t posted in so long oops 😭 this fic isn’t as long as usual but hopefully i’ll be able to post again soon with a longer one. enjoy! notes are appreciated ofccc.

wc: 0.8k

you and yunho were surely just friends; which is exactly why he got so flustered when you called him out for the intense stare he had aimed at your frame. the conversation started with an accusatory tone, with yunho struggling to explain himself with his words. the tense atmosphere didn’t last long before you began to realize how the hostile tone in your voice made his ears tint with a darker red than ever before, or the small whimper that left his lips as soon you referred to him as a ‘perv’. only then did you notice the print of his erection that bulged against his sweatpants. so that’s what yunho was into.

that was how you ended up with your back against the headboard of your bed, your shorts long gone and disregarded to the floor, with yunho’s face buried in between your legs, tongue caressing your folds. he had promised he wouldn’t distract you from your studying, which is why you still sat there, textbook being held up by your trembling legs as you continued to annotate and highlight different phrases and important words that you may need to remember for tomorrow. unfortunately, studying while yunho gave slow kitten licks to your clit was just as hard as anyone would imagine it to be; you slammed the textbook closed, throwing that and your pen somewhere off to the side. ‘i’ll just study harder later,’ you thought to yourself as your fingers intertwined with the strands of yunho’s pitch black hair.

“f-fuck, yunho, you’re going way too slow, c-can’t take it,” you moaned, subconsciously pushing his face closer to your folds. It caused the rims of his glasses to slip a little farther down the bridge of his nose, but he couldn’t do anything to push them back up for now— which meant you would just have to deal with the cold material brushing against your skin every now and then until he was done. yunho was so overstimulated just by the feeling of you against his lips and tongue; you loved how much he got off from solely pleasuring you. his hips repeatedly bucked against the mattress once he felt his release getting closer, and you could feel the movements of his mouth get sloppier than before.

you weren’t much closer than yunho, though– with a string of profanities and breathy moans, you came without much of a warning onto yunho’s face; however, he didn’t mind in the slightest, with his tongue lapping up as much of your liquids as he possibly could. when he lifted his face from between your legs, the sight in front of you was just sinful; the fluids dripped down from his lips and down his chin as he panted, completely out of breath. his eyes were glossed with a hazy look on them, and you just knew he was far gone.

“yun,” you called out, straightening your legs out and then patting your thigh, signalling for him to use it to ride out his orgasm. he let out a small hum of compliance. yunho moved to straddle your thigh, immediately rutting against it with the most desperate look you’d ever seen painted on his face. the repeated whimpers that erupted from his throat were surely going to be the death of you. it didn’t help your case in the slightest when he looked up at you with pleading eyes, whining, “y/n, p-please, can i cum now? i c-can’t,”

your eyes widened slightly at the fact that he was asking for your permission; everything you’d found out about him within the last hour were things you never would’ve begun to associate with the male; nonetheless, you couldn’t deny that his submissive side only made him more attractive than he was— if that was even possible.

“yes, yunho, you’ve been so good for my baby, cum for me, hm?” your praise only made a high-pitched moan leave yunho’s lips as he came undone in your lap. he convulsed from the overstimulation for a few seconds, before he moved to lay down beside you. the two of you sat in a comfortable silence as you took a moment to regain composure, all whilst maintaining strong but loving eye contact.

yunho stifled a laugh, his cheeks puffing out slightly with the action.

“well, so much for studying, i guess.”

[yogurtkags]

" lover boy "— kuroo tetsuro

✿ cw. gn!reader, established relationship, domestic bliss ✿ word count. 782 ✿ synopsis. fifteen more minutes with tetsu the cuddle bug

there's many things about kuroo that you love — if anyone dares to ask, they'd better be prepared to sit here for hours listening to you ramble all about it. from the crinkles at the corner of his eyes when he laughs, right down to the way t-shirts sit on his torso.

yes, he's suave and flirty, a handsome charismatic and natural leader, but beyond all that, he's just a silly lil lover boy that you look forward to seeing first thing in the morning and coming home to every day.

your clock-in hours naturally aligned with his, thankfully, which meant that mornings were typically spent getting ready together. it wasn't out of the ordinary for you to rise earlier than him though, reports and proposals keep him up working late on most nights.

he usually puts up a fight to keep you in bed with him for babe just five more minutes please, but a kiss and promises of a warm mug of coffee does just barely enough to coax him into reluctantly releasing you from his embrace.

today is no different. you almost think you’re successful in getting out of bed without acquiring a koala named tetsu but a lightly calloused hand catches yours before you can completely pull away.

his hands have lost a bit of it's roughness over the years, having stopped playing volleyball as strenuously and regularly as he used to back in school, but they’re still gentle in its hold. only with you.

rolling onto his back with his other arm draped over his eyes, kuroo sleepily groans “angel, stay in bed with me for a little longer please?”

“i’m just going to make us a coffee and prepare our lunches for work okay?” you softly reassure, voice barely above a whisper as you take a seat on the edge of the bed to lean down and peck his nose, trailing down to capture his lips with yours.

he cranes his neck to meet you halfway, sighing into the kiss like he needs you to breathe, and your heart swells with devotion. it’s slow and sensual, overflowing with love as it fills you up with warmth from the inside out.

his hand rests against the nape of your neck when you inevitably part for air, not letting you get too far away from him just yet as he rubs featherlight circles into your hairline. you gently rest your forehead against his as he takes a deep breath, eyes still closed and savouring the moment.

your warm breath fans against his cheek, "i love you, tetsu."

"i love you more."

as the morning sun slowly seeps in through the blinds, you get lost in the way the light glistens over his soft skin — and he shines. your heart skips a beat at his boyish likeness and the serene look on his face. he looks so peaceful in this state, younger, without a care in the world.

you can't help but let a humoured breath escape at his content expression, combing your fingers through his jet-black hair, attempting to tame the wild tufts of his bed head at least just a little bit.

lightly grazing your nails against his scalp just the way he likes it, kuroo hums in bliss, sinking further into the plush ivory sheets and sleepily murmuring, "don’t bother with lunch, we can grab food from the cafeteria. i just want you to myself right now."

how can you say no to that? you shake your head with a smile, giving in to his sweet pleas and affections and letting him pull you back under the covers with him. burying your face in his chest, his steady heartbeat thrums against your ear, syncing with yours like a melody that only belongs to you.

the slow rise and fall, inhale and exhale grounds you as his arms tighten their hold on your figure. in his embrace, the world stands still in it's axis, spelling out all that you are in body, mind, and soul. you are his and he is yours, home.

he presses a kiss to the crown of your head, slipping a hand under your oversized tee, his tee, to caress your back, stroking lines up and down your smooth skin. if he keeps this up, you're falling back asleep and you'll be no better than he is. not that you're complaining.

“fifteen more minutes and we really got to get up okay? there’s a meeting you don’t want to be late for.” you remind him, your words coming out muffled by the soft cotton of his thin pj shirt and laced with drowsiness.

“ugh, can i just call in sick today?”

“tetsu!"

tags. @tetzoro (mrs kuroo herself)

✿ notes. mister kuroo, stop being so cute, it’s sickening !! not to be that girl but writing this reminded me of my bf :(( ldr sucks :(( (dividers: @/cafekitsune) — reblogs & interactions are always appreciated !

© yogurtkags. please do not repost, plagiarise, or translate my work.

[vivwritesfics]

can we please get a mafia lance fic, where reader gets assaulted and doesn’t tell him and he finds out when she’s asking and screaming out in terror and pain. He takes her to a hospital and finds out everything and has a whole episode but doesn’t know what to do and has to learn how to be gentle for her as well as takes revenge for her. it’s a long one but please can we have mafia lance 🎀🎀🎀

I changed up this up to fit the mafia lance nanny au and because i don't like writing proper assault

I'm gonna make a full masterlist and do proper chapters for this one at one point I promise.

The park was meant to be safe. It was the park she and Ben always went to and there had never been an issue before.

So why was it an issue now?

"Promise me you guys will be safe," said Lance. It was stupid, that a gut feeling had him so paranoid, but it did. It wasn't enough to have him going with them or even keeping them home, but it was enough for a warning.

And for him to call a few times.

The first time he called, she had the phone between her shoulder and her ear as she pushed Ben on the swing. "How can I help you, Mr Stroll?" She asked with something of a laugh.

"Is everything going okay at the park?" Lance asked.

"Yeah, we're gonna get some lunch after this. Do you want me to bring anything back for you?" She asked as she pushed Ben a little higher.

There was a second before Lance answered. "Just bring my boy back safe."

"I always do, Lance."

The call finished and she slipped her phone into her pocket. "Wanna go down the slide a few times before we go for lunch, Ben?" She asked as she pushed him a little gentler, slowing the swing ever so slightly.

"Come with me?" Ben asked. He hopped down from the swing, grabbed her hand and dragged her to the slide. He wasn't quite ready to tackle the slide on his own, and she was more than happy to go with him.

At the top of the slide she sat and placed Ben in her lap. They went down it a couple of times, his shrieking giggle filling the air.

Their stomachs were both growling as she picked up their bags and walked him over to the little café in the park. It was so damn nice, sitting there with Ben as he sipped his milkshake and ate his sandwich.

Damn nice didn't last long in this kind of life. As she and Ben made their way back to the car (a gift from her employer for her last birthday. Every employer got their kids nanny a car for their birthday, right?)

But they didn't make it to the car. Suddenly, Ben was no longer holding her had.

His scream echoed in her ear. "Ben!" She cried, head whipping in his direction.

The man that had a hold of him was masks. He ran as fast as he could with a six year old in his arms. Ben struggled, just the way his daddy had always told him to.

Instinct kicked into gear and she raced after him. The more Ben struggled, the harder it got for the man to keep a hold of him. The second he had wiggled three, he was running towards her, running into her arms.

She pushed Ben behind her and swung at the guy, landing a pretty good blow. "Shit!" The guy cried, but she didn't stay to watch him hold his nose in pain.

No, she was holding Ben and running back to the car, heart beating erratically. She didn't even buckle Ben into his car seat before she was driving away, racing back home as fast as she could.

It was a miracle they made it in one peace. She didn't register anything as she drove him back to the Stroll house. Even when she pulled up outside, she was still breathing so heavily as she grabbed Ben from the passenger seat.

Her lips were against his head. "Tell me you're okay, Ben, please," she muttered, eyes shut.

He nodded his head, but his eyes were scared and unsure. Fuck, this was all her fault.

Holding him against her, she rushed him through the house and up to Lance's office.

When they strode in, Lance was grinning. But the grin dropped from his face the moment he saw the looks on both of their faces. "What's the matter?" He asked, standing from his desk and walking around the both of them.

He took Ben from her arms and kissed the top of his sons head. Before he could grab her and offer her a similar comfort, she was sitting down, feet on the chair and knees pulled up to her chest. "Somebody tried to take him," she said through tears. "Somebody tried to take Ben."

And then she was full on sobbing. Fat, ugly tears rolling down her cheeks. She furiously tried to wipe at her eyes, but it did nothing to stop the flow of tears. Lance put Ben down on the little sofa. "Sit tight, Benny," he mumbled and kissed his head again.

And then he turned his attention to her. "Baby," he whispered as he crouched in front of her. He gently grabbed her wrists and pulled her hands away from her face. His lips pressed against her thumb and he stood straight, pulling her up with him.

"I'm gonna find these guys," he said, tucking her against his chest. "And I'm gonna fucking kill them." That last part was whispered, lips against her temple. He kissed her quickly and turned his attention back to Ben. "C'mon, you guys," he said, taking both her hand and Ben's. "Let's go and get some ice cream."

[peachhcs]

summer days

hughes!sister x will smith au (samy + will)

a small glimpse into spending the summer on the lake with the hughes siblings + company

1.7k words

as requested, here’s samy & the guys enjoying a fun day on the lake. this takes place a few weeks before samy + will talk during their vacation. i also didn’t know how to really end this so if it’s bad i’m sorry lol btw i'm sorry for my lack of posts, i've been super busy so i got a little behind!

au masterlist

"come on, moose, you don't ever back down from a challenge," ethan hollered from across the boat where mark, rutger, gavin, dylan and seamus all sat watching their friend bicker back and forth with jack.

samy snickered along with kayleigh, hannah, ryan, gabe, drew, and aram from the other side of the boat. it started with jack bragging about how he had the record for being able to stay up on the board longer than any of his siblings. luke's always been the most competitive out of the four of them, so he took jack's words to heart, arguing he stayed on way longer. of course, the middle hughes challenged his younger brother to a friendly competition.

"alright, fine. fine. you're on," luke shook jack's hand like they were making a deal. the older brother smirked, looking to quinn who was amused by the entire thing.

"okay, i'm up first then," jack dropped the board into the water before zipping up into his life jacket.

"jesus, you guys are competitive," hannah rolled her eyes slightly making samy giggle.

"just be glad i didn't decide to join in. we all know i can stay on way longer than them," the youngest hughes hummed, eyes landing on luke who heard all of it.

"don't you start with me, too," the boy warned her making samy shrug.

"what? you're just scared all of us are better than you," she stuck her tongue out making the guys laugh.

"keep talking and i'll throw you off the boat," luke's tone went flat, but samy knew he was just messing with her. he was trying to act tough as always in front of his friends because his little sister could not be better at him at wakeboarding.

"maybe we should add the rest of the siblings into this friendly fire," jack grinned, overhearing the conversation.

"hey, i'm in. you guys know i'm way better than all of you combined," the younger brunette stood, throwing her own life jacket on.

"is that so? why don't you go first then. show us how it's done if you're so much better than us," jack held his hand out to where the board was, the rope in his other hand.

"you're on," samy said before she jumped into the lake.

she came back up and climbed her way onto the board while jack handed her the tug rope. hannah and kayleigh shot their friend two thumbs up while samy gave quinn her own thumbs up indicating she was good to go.

the oldest hughes revved up the engine again and started pulling samy along. she glided across the water before quinn went fast enough to create waves. the guys cheered the girl on while jack kept the time on his phone.

she hit some of the waves in impressive jumps, letting the board take her across the water. "shit, she may be better than you guys after all," mark laughed.

"shut up," luke rolled his eyes in annoyance, but he secretly was impressed that samy hadn't fallen off yet. she never stayed on for more than minute when they were younger and now they were significantly past a minute.

the boat began rounding a corner, so samy leaned back, dipping her finger tips into the wave while the other held the rope tightly. jack checked the time again and saw that his sister was inching closer to five minutes which was a near record for her because she never lasted until then.

"looks like we got some real competition, huh?" jack nudged luke's arm, a smile spreading across his lips.

as much as luke wanted to be mad, he couldn't. he enjoyed seeing samy take on the waves that were once so hard for he. plus, seeing her as happy as them put a smile on his face because it meant she wasn't thinking about will.

after another couple of minutes, samy fell off. everyone on the clapped for the younger girl while quinn slowed the boat back down and circled back around for her. jack and luke helped her back on and held their hands out for high-fives.

"awesome run little hughesy," jack side hugged his sister.

"i guess you have been practicing," luke hummed making the girl giggle.

"i mean i have to do something while you guys aren't here," she threw her life jacket off before going to accept her high-fives from everyone else.

with jack and luke being a bit rusty, they didn't stay on as long as they did normally. jack would complain and say it was his shoulder still healing, while luke mumbled something about being away making him "lose his talent." despite it, the others enjoyed seeing the siblings bickering with one another about stupid things. it always felt like summer whenever the hughes kids got into it with one another for some friendly fire.

samy even convinced hannah to finally give it a go after her refusing to try it. she only stayed on for a minute, but the others cheered for her bravery. gabe and ryan started getting good at it after spending the last three years trying to perfect their form while the other two were too afraid to do it still.

things died down a bit after an hour. everyone spread themselves out while quinn drove them back towards the house. samy sat on the bench with her legs curled to her chest and nose in a book when gabe plopped himself down beside her. she turned to him, smiling a bit.

"hey," the brunette hummed.

"hey. reading anything good?" gabe asked, trying to catch a glance of her book.

"just this memoir. it's actually really good," she showed the boy the cover that read everything i know about love. it was something samy heard about online and wanted to give it a try considering she'd just gotten out of a relationship.

"looks good. this was a fun day," the dark-haired boy said, gaze falling across everyone on their phones or close to sleep from the long day in the sun.

"yeah, it was. i always like entertaining my brother's teasing. although, it still has felt..different. i hate that we're missing.." samy trailed off, but she didn't need to say their names for gabe to know who she was talking about.

"yeah, i get it," the hockey player frowned.

"i just hate that everything is like ruined between all of us. i mean..of course will didn't want to come. grace probably felt weird coming too," the lake house wasn't the same without the smith siblings there and everyone knew it.

"you know they would've been here if they could've. will's got his many things to do before joining the sharks and grace is searching for places and a job. you'll still see them for the family vacation," gabe found samy's gaze again.

"the family vacation is more of a forced thing. just being here..i know will's trying to busy himself as an excuse for not coming. it's probably better like this anyway because i didn't want to really see him anyway," the girl sighed a little. even if he did break her heart, she still thought he'd come to the lake house this summer.

"but you wished he was here, right?"

samy didn't respond. instead, she refocused her attention on her book leaving gabe to sit beside her in silence. the two didn't speak until they reached the dock again where samy scrambled up to help tie the boat in with her brothers. once they secured everything, she beelined to the house.

her bedroom door shut tightly, locking herself in for a moment. she dug her phone out from her pocket where she clicked around until bauer hockey's instagram page lit up her screen. for a moment, samy stared at the pictures of will on her screen and his huge smile like nothing was wrong. he looked so happy in all of them like he was having a blast and here she was with him stuck in her mind.

she probably hadn't even crossed his mind once.

samy threw her phone on her bed, a frustrated sigh leaving her lips. she shouldn't do this to herself. it was summer. she wasn't going to waste these months sulking about him when nothing mattered but being outside and getting really bad sunburns.

"samy? you in here?" ryan's voice startled the girl when he knocked. she quickly popped the door back open a crack where the taller brunette stood on the other side with a raised eyebrow.

"hey, sorry. just looking for something," she mustered her best smile.

"okay, just checking in. you kind of took off once we docked," ryan laughed a bit while samy forced her own little chuckle.

"yeah, my bad. i'll be down in a second," with that, ryan left and samy released the breath she was holding in.

she quickly changed out of her suit back into some more comfortable clothes before racing back downstairs. the others piled into the kitchen searching for something that wasn't the snacks they ate all day.

"shit, i'm starving," gavin mumbled as he stuffed leftovers into his mouth.

"you guys are disgusting," hannah rolled her eyes, tugging her brother out of the way in search of her own food.

"nice shirt," someone nudged samy's arm. gabe stood at her side again, eyeing the clothes on her body. the girl's gaze flicked down, widening a bit when her shirt read boston college hockey across the front because everyone knew who that belonged to.

"m-must've been mixed into my clothes still," she managed weakly. gabe just shrugged.

"you know it's not too late to..reach out?" his voices lowered a few tones so no one else heard.

almost immediately, samy's expression crinkled up, "no way. he's busy with the bauer combine. plus, i'm sure he's met a bunch of other girls there anyway."

gabe didn't say anything, but all he could think about as samy said that was the call him and ryan got from the blonde a few days ago while he had a panic attack in a bathroom. now if only samy knew that..

"guys, wait! you know what i just realized we haven't done yet this summer?" ethan quickly spoke up, catching everyone's attention.

his gaze turned to samy's, flashing with some sort of mischief as he began inching closer to the younger girl. "i think it's time for throwing samy into the pool!" the older boy exclaimed before running at her.

samy shrieked, pushing gabe out of the way as she attempted to run away from her brother's friends despite them rounding every corner in means of capturing her.

[trippinsorrows]

looking through your eyes + one

authors note: hi! this is a complete rework from another roman story i wrote but needed to redo. it's a mafia au, so understandably super dark. a 'blink and you'll miss it' bit of a beauty and the beast retelling. not meant to be anything groundbreaking or unlike most mafia stories.

i've found that my writing is best when 2nd person pov, so i wanted to challenge myself to make this third person to better my writing, thus, bear with me, ya'll. :)

if any cw/tw's are missed, please let me know, and i will add them!

cw/tw: language, violence against women, mention of parental death, vague hinting at past sexual trauma

song inspo: 'looking through your eyes' by leann rimes

words: 5.2k

Through trial and error, mostly error, a lot of error, Solana Miller has learned and mastered most of the things that upset her father. 

Speaking out of turn. Meals not being ready on time. The house being a “mess.” The actual list is a living breathing thing that grows with each day and every unfortunate occurrence, but always at the very top of this list is lack of punctuality. 

There’s nothing Xavier Miller hates more than lateness. 

And that’s exactly what she is. 

Solana nearly faceplants into the three steps leading into the house with how fast she’s running. Her shaking hand and sweaty palm make it take longer than usual to unlock the front door, and the force in which she slams it shut behind her should be enough to knock the nearby family photo off the wall.

The photo that she is not included in, of course. 

She’s brushing off invisible lent as she rushes into her father’s office. “I’m sorry, there was an—” Her panting mouth snaps shut when she reaches the doorway, hand holding onto the frame of the door. “—accident.”

The minute Solana saw the flashing police lights and array of red brake lights was the moment she realized that she was in for a brutal punishment. She’d started to mentally prepare for such, trying to recall if she’s restocked the first aid kit kept in her bathroom and frequently retrieved. But, it’s not until she’s standing in the doorway of her father’s office, an office that’s filled with not only him and her brother, Wes, but other men that she realizes the ferocity of this punishment may be unlike any she’s received in some time.

Not only is she late, but she’s now interrupted some sort of meeting that he wanted her present for. 

Xavier’s eyes land on Solana with faux happiness that conceals flames she recognizes as a precursor for what’s to come. Naturally, like he’s not imagining all the cruel ways he can hurt her, in a way that only he can do, he slaps on a tight smile. “Ahh, there she is.”

Solana also realizes how almost everyone’s gaze is on her, and that doesn't make for a good response because she finds herself asking, “what’s going o—”

Xavier’s smile is very much unlike the ice in his voice. “Silence, child.” 

The sharpness of his command evokes an immediate response. Her shoulders slump and head drops. The displeasure just keeps growing. Solana can already feel the bruises forming, the sting of the ice on her busted lip. 

One of the men, an oversized, middle aged white man with a sharp gaze speaks. “I take it, this is your daughter?”

“It is,” her father confirms. If she didn’t know any better, Solana could almost swear she hears a hint of proudness. “Please forgive her lateness. She knows the importance of obedience.”

And the repercussions of obedience. Repercussions Solana knows await her once this meeting ends.

“I hope she does.” The same white man clears his throat. Solana hears the ruffling of papers but refuses to look up. Her gaze is better served focused on the ground, her silence and submissiveness certainly music to her father’s ears. “We received the requested medical report, and it appears you weren’t lying, Miller. The girl is still a virgin.”

That….that is the moment where it takes all willpower for Solana’s head not to snap up, eyes wide with both confusion and partial recognition. She’d wondered why her father asked her to schedule her yearly check-up with her GYN when she wasn’t due for another couple of months but knew better than to question, so she went ahead and did it. 

And she wondered why this checkup was so….different. Labs were taken, more questions asked, and a vaginal exam that had her leaving more uncomfortable than she’d ever been with Dr. Boyd. Not that seeing the woman was ever an enjoyable time in the first place. She's cold, stoic, an obvious doctor on the mafia payroll, but she's still a woman. 

Solana can't have a male GYN. She can't have a male doctor in any sort of specialty.

The confusion, however, comes into play at this man’s words.

“The girl is still a virgin.” 

That couldn’t be farthest from the truth.

“Her blood work also indicates she should have no problems conceiving a child.”

Emotions overpower reason as Solana breaks her silence and lifts her head. “What?” One furious glance from Xavier, and immediately, she knows that she’s fucked up.

She also realizes that she’s failed to notice one very important member whose sheer size takes up almost the entirety of her father’s onyx black loveseat.

Solana has heard the name Roman Reigns more times than she can keep track of over the years. It’s inescapable to live in this life and not know of the brutal ruler of the Bloodline, one of the most notorious mafia bosses in the underworld. But never in any of her 28 years has she seen him in person. Maybe somewhat in the same vicinity but never in close proximity, not like now where he’s sitting mere feet away from her.

He’s reclined back into the seat, thick legs spread, a blank expression on his handsome, bearded face. His features are sharp and predatory, yet there’s something about his eyes, a beautiful, light shade of brown that’s such a contrast to the cold blooded killer he is. Bulging, rippling muscles seem to be at battle with the plain black shirt he wears, and she notices his silky black hair is pulled back into a surprisingly neat bun of sorts. 

Solana knows that she shouldn't stare, but it’s hard not to. The man is objectively beautiful. He’s also staring directly at her. 

Panicked, her head drops down, eyes returning to continue counting the amount of beige swirls in her father’s persian rug. 

“Shut up…. ”Wes speaks from the other side of the room. He’s leaned up against the column near the bookshelf, lazily spinning around the pocketknife he never goes anywhere without. 

It’s the same knife that’s cut into her skin at least more than a couple of times over the years, drawing various amounts of blood depending on the extent of his anger.

Wes is always angry.

“I’m a man of my word, Mr. Heyman.” Solana doesn’t even need to be looking up to know her father has his hand over his chest, that faux sense of honor painting his harsh features. “I would never disrespect the Tribal Chief by wasting his time.” Solana’s throat goes tight. “My daughter is a worthy candidate.”

Candidate. Heir. Virgin.

It doesn’t take long with these major clues for Solana to piece together what they’re discussing, why her presence was required when never before has her father wanted her anywhere near one of his meetings.

Arranged marriage.

They’re discussing a possible arranged marriage between Solana and Roman Reigns. 

Her fingers flex and suddenly start to rub nervously against the soft material of her dress. Any appetite she had prior to entering the home is no longer present, vacated, replaced by a thick, heaping layer of anxiety.

Arranged marriages are far too common in this life. There’s not a week that’s gone by since she became of age that she doesn't hear about some union between two members of rivaling or partnering families. It's just how these things are done.

However, at 28, much past the typical timeline that daughters are married off, she’d accepted that that was not her fate. And she was okay with that, more than okay. Is okay with that.

Solana has a……complicated relationship with men, anyway. With people in general, but especially men.

The thought of her being paired off to Roman is so bad that it’s almost laughable. Their compatibility is in the negative range. He would never give her a second look, not even a first. A man like him needs someone who matches his prowess. She isn’t even on the radar.

And yet…..

And yet her father has somehow garnered interest, provided his counsel with her medical information “proving” her worthiness, and secured a meeting.

Circling back around to the medical report has her chest feeling tight and heavy. Lies. Her father has clearly paid off Dr. Boyd to write up whatever he believed needed to be said to increase his chances of locking in this deal.

She doesn’t know about the fertility portion, never really bothering or concerning herself with that part of her health. Someone has to have to have sex to conceive a child, and as far as Solana is concerned, that's never going to happen.

Not....not again.

But the virgin part is most definitely a lie. The physical exam certainly would have confirmed that.

And yet, the exact opposite was stated. 

Chills instantly move down her spine. Her father is perpetuating a fraud. Even more, he’s perpetuating fraud to a man who’s rumored to have a body count in the thousands. The same man he’s trying to pawn her off to.

This….this is not good.

It’s not good at all.

—----------

“She’s weak.”

That’s the first thing to leave Roman's mouth since they entered the Miller Manor, and it’s not announced until they're back in the SUV and on their way back to his estate.

Checking emails and clearing notifications that piled during the time his phone was tucked away, he continues. “Too young. Has no backbone. It’s embarrassing.” Roman’s tone, much like everything else about that pointless meeting, reeks of boredom. 

“Her father clearly has her on a tight leash,” Rikishi adds. He brings the handkerchief he keeps in his shirt pocket and swipes it across his forehead, dapping up the light sheen of sweat that’s already formed in the walk from the house to the SUV. “But, a very pretty girl.”

Roman cannot and will not disagree on that. She’s undeniably beautiful, but everything else about her is unappealing. And saying Miller has her on a tight leash is an understatement. She’s terrified of him. The brother too,  and Roman would take a solid guess that one of the two is responsible for the slightly faded but still visible bruise he noticed on Solana’s upper forearm. 

There’s some conflicted emotion present at that piece of information, though he mostly leans in one direction.

Women and children should be off limits. Specifically, women and children who aren’t already indoctrinated into the life to the point of training. Roman knows plenty of kids who completed their first kill while still in single digits and women who fight better than some of his men. For them, it’s free game. They’ve proven they can handle themselves.

Solana doesn’t fall in any of those categories, and he’d be shocked if she even knows how to hold a gun.

Thus, in his mind, she’s off-limits.

Nonetheless, his family is full of fighters, regardless of sex.

So there's the other part of him that can't understand her passivity, that believes she's just weak. 

The thought process generates a list of other, much more adequate options. “What about Belair?”

“Engaged to be married in the Montez family.” Roman rolls his eyes. That fucker is an irritating prick. Seems like a desperate match. 

“Cargill?”

“She….” It’s slightly comical for Roman, watching the older man work his hardest to explain what was inarguably a disrespectful rejection. “---is not interested.” 

A dark chuckle leaves his throat. “She said fuck off, didn’t she?”

“More or less.” 

Roman smiles. He would expect nothing less. Cargill is a beast of a woman, a sure fun time in the sheets if she would ever remove the stick from up her ass.

“If I may, my Tribal Chief….” When Roman remains quiet, he takes that as his cue to continue. “The girl may be young and docile, but that also makes her moldable. She will do whatever you want with no protest. Is that not a possible advantage?” Roman continues to look out the window, allowing Paul to add on, “and she will have no problem giving you an heir, which is inarguably the most important thing at this point in your life.”

“He brings up a good point, uce,” Rikishi chimes. “With your temper, it’s probably best for you to take a wife who is more passive than dominant.”

Logically, it makes sense, but the idea of a stuttering, stammering wife who can’t even maintain eye contact for more than a minute doesn’t appeal to him in the slightest. 

“And as far as age, she’s closer to 30 than anything. You go for any older, and you might run into fertility struggles. This is the perfect age.” Rikishi’s crooked smile is followed by a small chuckle. “You ain’t so young yourself anymore, uce. Gotta have an even balance.”

There’s a difference between a balance and a child. Roman is prepared to say as such when Jimmy speaks, deciding to add his two cents from the passenger's seat.

“Look, Big Dog. All you need is for her to give you a kid, and you heard Paul. She can do that. Ain’t no need in making this bigger than what it is.” His insertion and contribution to the conversation ends up being valid. Granted, if he was anyone else, the delivery would have resulted in a maiming. But, this is Jimmy. He’s like a brother to Roman. Him and Jey. Hence their privilege with speaking so bluntly. “Shit, and did you see that body? Mannn, I’d never pull out of that.”

Also a valid point. Her dress was fitted around the chest area, accentuating heavy breast he could most definitely see himself palming as he fucked her from behind. The rest of the dress wasn’t as contoured, but it flowed against her shape when she walked in, and he could make out the curves he was certain she preferred to keep hidden. It’d been a while since he’d taken a woman to bed with a body like hers, a preference, but also not as easy to find in his world of fit assassins and killers who spend more time in the gym than anywhere else.

His latest set of women were on the slimmer side, moderate thickness, nothing like this girl.

But sexual desirability aside, her passivity indicates she’d be….that kind of woman. The woman who expects words of affirmation and quality time. A “gentle” kind of woman who’d want him to be sweet and patient in the bedroom, to make love to her. Roman is neither and none of those things.

He fucks, and he fucks hard. Subsequently, his wife should be cut from the same cloth. 

“Just….think about it, my Tribal Chief, hmmm?” Paul’s voice is tentative, laced with that tone that indicates he believes the decision should be made sooner rather than later. Granted, he values his life and standing in the bloodline, so he opts to not implement time constraints. 

A wise decision. 

“The scars.” Roman counted eight of them total, the one most pronounced on her face, slashing across her right eye and into the top of her cheek. The type of scar that’s embedded into the skin. And the soul. With a few of his own, it’s one of the first things he noticed. “What’s the story there?”

Paul quickly pulls out the portfolio from his briefcase, hurriedly flipping through papers when he settles on the one he’s looking for. “Ahhh….” Paul clears his throat, a telltale sign that’s he uncomfortable with what he’s about to say. “2005. It was a hit. Her mother was killed in the attack. Knifing. Solana survived, clearly.”

Roman turns his attention from the passing cars to look at his Wise Man. For the first time since this whole interview process began, Roman is intrigued. “She was there?” Paul confirms as such and says something else, but Roman’s attention is out the window again, haphazardly watching the flow of traffic, assimilating and accommodating this new piece of information. 

This may be the one and only thing he can understand about this girl. Something…something he can relate to. 

Survival

One doesn’t go through something like that without coming out on top or letting it bury you. Unlike him, she’d clearly gone the latter route. Granted, just making it out alive, physically, he knows better than anyone, is a feat in and of itself.

“Give me her file.”

—-------------

Dear Mom,

I’m sorry I didn’t write yesterday. It was…..a day.

I’m not even sure where to begin, because I’m not sure what to even feel at this moment to be honest. Dad is trying to marry me off to a mafia head, which would be fine, except….except that head is Roman Reigns. He’s….he’s a monster, mama. Has no soul. Not that many men in this life do, but there’s something about him that’s even more terrifying than the others. To make matters worse, dad had Dr. Boyd lie in my medical report. She wrote that I’m still a virgin, I guess something about my hymen still being intact. Mama, that’s a lie. There’s no way that’s possible. 

Not.....with what they did to me.

I’m trying hard not to panic, because there’s no way Roman would go for me. He’s a monster, yes, but even Lucifer was God’s most beautiful angel. He’s a very handsome man. He would never want someone like me.

I don’t know any man who would.

“Solana.”

Solana quickly snaps her journal closed, using the pen in her hand to mark her spot. She’s met with the gentle smile of 73–year–old Meryl Jensen, a widow who’s worked at this library for almost forty years.

Solana still remembers the first day she met Mrs. Jensen. She was 6-years-old, and her mom was looking for a certain book she’d read about in the newspaper. A book that she hoped would further and better her English speaking skills. A native of Mexico, Nina Miller taught herself English by immersing herself into American literature, film, and music. 

Similarly, Nina taught her Solana Spanish by immersing her daughter in Spanish literature, film, and music. A secret among the two as an always hostile, paranoid Xavier “banned” Nina from teaching their daughter a language he couldn’t understand.

If he couldn’t control it, it was a no-go.

But it was when Mrs. Jensen was helping Nina locate her book, Solana noticed another book sitting near a kids display. Goodnight Moon.

If Solana tries hard enough, she can still remember the warm smile her mother gave her as she allowed her to check out the book, her very first "purchase" from the library. It started a love of books, aided by Mrs. Jensen who always provided appropriate recommendations to Solana and her mom.

Not that Solana tries to think too much about memories with her mother. They’re almost always ruined and replaced with the sounds of the butcher knife slicing into her mother’s body as Nina used the last of her strength to shield and protect her daughter from the violent assault that would end up taking her life.

Solana’s smile, however, does dim and her stomach drops when she realizes that Ms. Jensen isn’t alone. 

“This girl is always writing, I swear.” It’s only when the older woman refers to her book that Solana quickly closes up her journal, shoving it to the side.

Her eyes never leave Roman though.

And his certainly aren’t leaving her, even as Mrs. Jensen places a hand on his arm, laughing at her own joke.

Mrs. Jensen then squints her eyes and leans over the counter. “Child, did you fall again?” It takes a second for recognition to dawn. She’s then hit with the memory of her father backhanding her across the room, the force sending her to the floor after the dispersion of yesterday’s meeting. A truly pale punishment compared to some of his prior assaults. “My goodness.” Mrs. Meryl laughs, shaking her head. “An everyday klutz I tell you. I can’t think of one day she hasn’t come in here without some kind of mark from her clumsiness.”

Roman’s staring directly at Solana while acknowledging the older woman’s casual observation. “Interesting.” He then darts his eyes, offering a smile that, if one didn’t know any better, could be considered genuine. But Solana does know better. She knows much better. “Could you give us a moment?”

Of course, Mrs. Jensen obliges, saying something about hushing up some boisterous high school students on the first level before it’s just Solana and Roman. 

She has a million and one questions, starting with why the hell Roman Reigns is at her job. Whatever the reason, it can’t be good. A man like him only brings about chaos and mayhem.

And death.

Swallowing and powering through the onslaught of anxiety, she starts off in an unsurprisingly soft voice, “if you’re looking for my father, he’s—”

“If I wanted your father, I would be speaking to him right now.” Roman’s interruption is dangerously calm, but Solana detects a hint of irritation. “You’re the one I want.”

Oh.

What in the world this man could want with Solana is beyond her. To make matters worse, Solana catches his gaze on her bruised cheek again. Makeup could only do much, but she's really starting to wish she went for heavier coverage. She drops her head, focusing on the denim of her jeans to avoid his burning stare. “I—umm.”

Solana’s body registers before her head does that Roman is lifting his hand to touch her. She responds accordingly, jumping back and away from the interaction. He chuckles, darkly, lowering his hand to his side. “That was some fall.”

Solana unconsciously brings her hand to hover over her cheek. “I’m—clumsy.”

“No, you’re not.” It takes a second for Solana to register his blunt comment and another for her to digest that he’s calling her bluff. “But, you are a terrible liar.”

He’s not wrong on either note, but she’s unsure just how to respond. “What—what do you want from me?”

Roman straightens up, and just the sheer size of him makes her swallow in fear. He’s a beast of a man, more beast though than anything else. “To make sure you understand what this is. It’s obvious Miller didn’t inform you about the meeting, and I won’t go into anything with anyone unless they’re fully aware of what they’re signing up for.”

If he’s waiting for Solana to acknowledge the first part of his reason for showing up at her job, he does a poor job waiting because he goes straight into his disclaimer. 

“I have no desire to be with you or any other woman for anything more than a sexual release. We’ll ensure my bloodline continues, but that’s it. Financially, you’ll want for nothing, and I can assure you, your clumsiness won’t be an issue. But, I will never love you, never see you as anything more than a business arrangement because that’s what you are.” He’s studying her facial expressions, reading all of the emotions oscillating around. “Do you understand?”

There’s a couple of different thoughts racing through her mind at this moment, but the dominant thought is wondering just what in the hell would possess someone like him to ever even consider someone like her? He is the definition of brute strength in all areas. She is beyond broken. There can’t be anything appealing about that.

But then….maybe there is. Roman knows she will not cause him any trouble, can recognize this brokenness and sees it as an easy way to get what he needs while still having the freedom to do whatever, and whoever he wants. It’s a bit of a win-win. 

And as far as the love aspect…..

Solana learned a long time ago that all of the fairytales lied. There is no prince that rides in and saves the damsel in distress. No one to swoop in and save you from the monster. It’s either killed or be killed, and her death already occurred on August 7th, 2005.

As ironic and fucked up as it is, Solana recognizes this is the best deal she’ll ever get in her life. 

With quite literally nothing to lose, she acknowledges him.

“I understand.”

—---------

The minute Solana steps into the house, she’s immediately shoved into the freshly painted wall behind her. A strong hand is on her throat, restricting her breathing.

“What did you say to him!”

Fingers foolishly grasping at the hand suffocating her, Solana tries to speak even with knowing that it’s impossible when she can’t even breathe. This only pisses her brother off even more. He bangs her head into the wall, causing the nearby pictures to shake. “Answer me, you stupid bitch!”

“Let her go, Wes.”

Xavier’s command is followed with a delayed acquiescence. Solana falls to the floor, coughing and gasping violently. She brings her hand to the back of her head to check for any blood, but her gaze is soon on the black leather shoes her blurred version is able to make out.

Solana cries out when her father grips her hair, yanking her head back and forcing her to look at him.

“We know Reigns came to see you at your job today.”

At some point in her life, Solana would be stunned and partially disturbed this, by how her father is aware of this piece of information.  But, this is no longer that time in her life. That time when she was naive enough to think that she could ever escape this life, ever leave and never look back.

She’d tried once. Foolishly. And it landed her in the hospital for two weeks. 

Solana can still remember her father’s dry, cracked lips pressing an insincere kiss against her temple as he said in the calmest yet coldest voice. “You ever try to leave this place again, and I’ll make sure to finish the job.” 

That was the last time she ever fooled herself into believing better waited for her.

“Now, what did you say to him?”

“I—I—nothing.” It’s not a lie but not the entire truth. She didn’t say anything that should have pissed him off. Then again, with a man as temperamental as Roman, anything and everyone could piss him off. Look at her dad and brother. “What did he—”

A phone ringing possibly saves, or just delays, the next set of hits. And even better, it’s Xavier’s phone.

He pulls it out of the back pocket of his pants, eyes lighting up. With a mischievous smile, he taps the screen twice, answering, “my Tribal Chief.” Solana’s eyes widen. “To what do I owe the honor?”

“Cut the bullshit, Miller.” Roman’s deep, baritone voice is powerful and authoritative, even when he’s not even in the room. “You know why I’m calling.” And before her father can further upset him, Roman jumps straight to the point. “We have a deal.”

It’s been some time since Solana has been so thoroughly surprised by something she’s heard that she briefly loses awareness of where she is. But this….this is one of those moments. 

He can’t…..he can’t have said what she thinks he just said. Her acknowledging understanding was just a formality. She didn’t think he was actually considering marrying her.

Xavier’s smile is broad, signs of a man who just got exactly what he wanted. “Wonderful. We shall start planning.”

“Two weeks. The wedding will be two weeks from today.”

The tightening in her chest has returned. Solana is certain she’s about to start hyperventilating. This….this can’t be happening. 

Xavier and Wes share a look as he stammers with a response. “Uhh, yes, of course—whatever you wa—”

“Oh, and Miller?”

Irritation flashes in Xavier’s eyes, but he shoves it back for a polite acknowledgment. “Yes, my Tribal Chief?”

“You or your boy lay a single fucking finger on her again, and I’ll gut you both where there’s nothing left to bury.”

Solana is almost certain there’s not a single one of them that’s not taken back by Roman’s icy warning. However, she swallows when her father’s fire gaze lands on her. She knows immediately she’s in for a matching bruise on the other side of her face.

Xavier laughs quietly. “That girl has always been so clumsy. I assure you—”

“One.”

Xavier is understandably confused by Roman’s single-word response. “Pardon?”

“Everyone gets one chance to lie to me. You’ve just used yours.” For the briefest hint of a second, Solana believes she sees fear flash in her father’s eyes. “Consider yourself warned.”

The phone disconnects. 

Silence settles over the three of them, but it doesn’t last. 

“I–I don’t understand.” Solana finds her voice, unable to stay quiet in a moment that’s completely just changed the course of her life. “I–I can’t marry Roman.”

For a lot of reasons. Many reasons that she can list out and defend if given the chance.

Solana is consumed by her thoughts and pending mental breakdown, so much so that she misses when her brother stalks across the room. He throws her back up against the wall, and the minute her eyes land on the silver, she’s frozen in place.

His grin is predatory and satisfactory as he murmurs, floating the knife in front of her. “It seems you’ve finally made your existence have some type of purpose.” Solana has to close her eyes. Just seeing knives sometimes brings her back to that night, and having one pressed against her….

Wes knows exactly how agonizing that is to her, hence his favorite method of torture. 

Swallowing, she weakly protests, “you—you told them I’m a virgin.”

That’s a major reason why. Her father has made her out to be some chaste, pure woman when she’s anything but. And to lie to Roman, of all people, about something like that.

They’ve more or less signed her death decree.

“No. Dr. Boyd’s medical reports confirmed you’re still untouched, and you’ll go along with it for however long is necessary.” Xavier’s rebuttal is smooth and to the point, like he doesn’t see the issue with his actions.

He never does. 

“Don’t you understand?” Wes lazily slides the knife up and down her skin, smiling at the terror in her face. It’s his greatest motivation, witnessing the extent of her fear toward him. “We’d let Reigns and his entire bloodline fuck you if that’s what it took to get what we want.”

Solana has no shock value at his words. Wes stopped caring anything for her the minute she got their mother killed, and it’s not as if she can entirely blame him. 

Nina would still be alive if not for Solana. It’s something she accepted ages ago, an undeniable truth. 

However, she does have to ask in a pained voice, “what do you want?”

Xavier supplies, taking a hit of his cigar she didn’t realize he was holding this whole time. “We want and will have control of the bloodline.”

If not for her current situation, she’d laugh. Control of the bloodline. That’s….that’s not even a dream. That’s a delusion. Still, there’s an undertone to his voice and words that alarm her. In a quiet voice, she protests. “That’s—that’s impossible.”

Solana hisses as Wes presses the knife deeper into her throat, nicking her skin and drawing blood. “No, it isn’t, not anymore. Because we have a way in.”

And it’s with widened eyes and a constricted throat that Solana finally understands what’s happening, what they plan to have happen. 

Her voice is barely above a whisper. “No….”

Xavier answers with a cruel, wicked smile. “You’re going to kill Roman Reigns for us.”

[epickiya722]

"How is Horikoshi going to wrap up everything on five chapters?"

I don't know, you don't know. We just know Horikoshi and his team have a plan and they know how MHA is going to be wrapped up in five chapters.

They got it, they'll handle this. At the end of the day, this is Kohei Horikoshi's story.

Regardless, I feel like this is the case with some of you.

You're afraid of being disappointed. You're afraid of being disappointed because you have these expectations set so high. With that kind of standard, you're never going to be satisfied with anything.

So stuck on "this must satisfy me and only me" that you forget that that story not written by you is a story that is just being shared with you. Not given to you because you're special and you're not.

On top of that, some of you just crave for more, more, more. And more. And more. Even more.

You want nonstop content being pushed out while being impatient about it (looking at you, 'how dare we not get a new chapter this week' folks).

Just because one manga had been going on for longer than another, maybe even came out before that one, doesn't mean every manga is meant to last for a long time. Manga, anime, TV show, comic book, novel series, etc.

Fun fact, Horikoshi's previous works didn't last for ten years. His last one, Oumagadoki Zoo, lasted little less than a year. From July 2010 to April 2011.

Three years it ended before My Hero Academia came into the picture. And I'll be honest, I doubt Horikoshi even planned for MHA to last this long because he didn't have the experience before.

Once it got to a certain point, I doubt he even wants for MHA to go even longer.

Hell, that's something I know all too well as someone who writes. And from what I remember, stories have a beginning, a middle and an end.

Stories aren't meant to keep going on forever. They're meant to be read, to be told, to be understood, to be enjoyed.

Not be graded like some college report and not ongoing like the people who create those stories are damn machines.

Something that it's very clear to me that some of you forgotten that. Or even care, let's be real.

Some of you want perfection so bad and yet can't even write your own damn story.

Who even wants a perfect story anyways? I don't know about the rest of you, but a story with flaws is a story that could be learned from. Stories can guide you, too, in more ways than one.

Horikoshi's writing to me, at least, isn't perfect. It's entertaining. I got into MHA because I was entertained by the concept. I got interested into it because of a meme I saw. You think I wouldn't want to seek it out and see if it will entertain me?

Yes, there are some points of the story where I wanted to pull my hair out and I don't doubt that a future part may make that feeling return.

But at the same time, what if... that's the point? Maybe you were meant to feel that emotion? Maybe that's what the writer was going for?

Are you understanding me?

Maybe, example, with the end we got for Tomura was meant to upset you? Sadden you, anger you even? Stories work like that sometimes!

But I doubt the writer should be condemned for it because at the end of the day, it is just a piece of fiction. My Hero Academia is the same story where a woman can grow to the size of a building and a kid has a speech bubble for a head.

Now does that sound like a story that you should be acting like a complete fool over? Wishing harm towards and arguing with others over? Huh? Does it?

Honestly, after MHA ends, if you choose to move onto the next manga, anime, whatever how about stop expecting so much?

How about stop having this entitlement that the story must go your way and your way only?

How about remembering that eventually that story will end?

[wren-kitchens]

I believe you (i'm not wrong)

2042 words

gem winces as she nicks her finger with the hammer for what she's pretty sure is the fourth time tonight, but she's not really been keeping count. it might be the fifth. it- okay, gem knows she should sleep, but she just- it- she doesn’t like the idea of sleeping right now. you can’t keep your mind off stuff if you’re asleep—they just turn into nightmares, and gem really doesn’t want to have another nightmare again. it's- she doesn't want to bother scar again.

this will make no sense if you don't know this au, and it is so self indulgent, but it's easier to format fics on tumblr than on discord GKFHD

anyway this is an au that me and stiff came up with and then made increasingly more angsty. this is the happiest part of the whole plotline if you can believe it

cw: panic attack, hurt/comfort

gem winces as she nicks her finger with the hammer for what she's pretty sure is the fourth time tonight, but she's not really been keeping count. it might be the fifth. it- okay, gem knows she should sleep, but she just- it- she doesn’t like the idea of sleeping right now. you can’t keep your mind off stuff if you’re asleep—they just turn into nightmares, and gem really doesn’t want to have another nightmare again. it's- she doesn't want to bother scar again.

she could bother joel. hypothetically speaking, gem could go up the mountain and knock on his door and awkwardly explain at three in the morning why she can’t sleep and that she needs his help, but- void, there is nothing she wants to do less right now. she loves joel- really, and it's more than likely that he'd be pretty helpful actually. it's- it's just too much right now. gem would rather build her problems away.

it takes longer than it probably should have done for gem to realise that her hand is bleeding, but she can’t be bothered to do anything about it; it doesn’t hurt much. besides, it's just another scar to add to the list of silly accidents she's had while building—like that time she almost took her finger off because she wasn't paying attention when she was dismantling some iron bars with less care than she should have been.

wiping sweat off her forehead, gem steps back for a second, taking in her work. her very wonky work. void, gem really needs to sleep soon, but there's no way that's happening without at least four nightmares, regardless of how much she tries to keep her mind occupied by something else. it's all she can think about- she's barely even done anything, despite 'building' for at least six hours now. the wood is unevenly cut, the moss is slowly dropping chunks into the sand from the roof, and the whole house looks like it's about to collapse on itself. that's- okay, that's the look she was going for, but it was meant to be structurally sound in actuality.

this was a bad idea- building a town that reminds her so damn much of where she grew up. it wasn't- it's not like gem really thought it through until it was too late to change her theme, and now she's kind of stuck. how in- anyone's name did she not even realise what she was building until after the nightmares started again?

.. don't answer that, actually. she doesn’t want to know.

maybe if gem sits down here, she'll fall asleep before she can start thinking about.. anything she doesn’t want to be thinking about. it feels like her limbs are made of lead, and gem has begun to debate on which sleep deprivation is worse: the exhausted building or the nightmares. maybe she'll flip a coi- what the fuck was that.

a figure- there's something- it's coming-

she hasn't- why the fuck didn’t she sleep- she knows what happens if she doesn’t sleep. can it reach her? can it make it onto the sand- can it outrun her? what if- what if it can walk, and she just never- gem never knew because she only encountered it whilst sailing but- she's endangered the whole server because of her stupid mistake-

stealing a glance behind her, gem's heart drops into the abyss- it's gaining on her. she's dead, she's going to die, she's doomed everyone, there's no escape-

something grabs her arm.

a strangled scream forces itself out of her tattered lungs, and she swings- desperation flooding her mind. she's gone- she's going to die- she's going to die-

"gem! please- it's me! it's me."

she opens her eyes, breaths still tearing their way through her throat, and- when did she get on the floor? her vision swims, body shaking too violently to steady herself and she thinks she must be drowning. there's a figure above her- there's- there's something above her.

her hands are numb and she's shaking and she's on the floor and she's not drowning, but she may as well be because she can’t fucking breathe. she's going to die and she's going to deserve it- she's- it's all- there's nothing left-

someone is holding her hands. she is having a panic attack and someone is holding her hands. she's not dying- she wishes she was dead. why would- who is- where is she? who is talking?

there's- there's her name. she feels like she's falling, but someone is talking and holding her hands and she's not drowning. did she- did she break something? was it her fault? she didn’t mean to.

a hand- a thumb against her face. gem was- she is crying. her vision is clearing but nothing will process and she just- she just wants to go home. she doesn't have a home anymore. she broke her home.

she didn't mean to. she's sorry- she just wanted to fix it. she's sorry. she is breathing, and she's not drowning, and she's not dying. right? is- is she right?

"right." there's a voice, and it sounds like home. she is crying again. "you’re okay."

no that's- she's not- she can’t be okay, ever again- she ruined it. there's nothing- she can’t- there's nothing left. she broke it- she ruined it. she's sorry.

her hands are warm. someone is holding her hands, and she's breathing and she's not drowning. there's a figure in front of her- there's scar in front of her.

"i’m sorry." gem's voice is sore, and comes out quieter than she expected it to. she's not drowning. "I never- i’m so sorry."

scar is crying, and gem is holding his hands. "I know." he says, and he’s quiet too. "I didn’t- void. I don't think i’ve- ever been on the receiving end of that."

it takes gem a moment to understand what he means, and her chest fills with emotion. she tries to say something, but nothing comes out.

"what-" scar's voice breaks, and gem wants to hug him. she doesn’t know if she's allowed. "what did you think I was?"

gem takes a shaky breath, shaking her head. "I never- I never knew what they actually were." she whispers. "they'd- if you didn't sleep, they'd appear."

scar is silent, and gem almost apologises, but her voice seems to have abandoned her. maybe this is all she can ever have- was she asking too much of him just now? void- the whole plan was to avoid pestering scar, and now she's had a panic attack because she mistook him for- that- okay, it doesn’t matter what, but now he’s dealing with her and she doesn't know if he even wants to, or if he just feels obligated-

"can you stand?" scar asks suddenly, and gem takes a second to recalibrate. can- what? can she stand? of course but- why is she standing? gem doesn’t actually ask any of this, of course, but the questions arise nonetheless.

gem lets go of scar's hands and pushes herself upwards on weak legs, but she doesn’t let it show. she wipes her face and takes a breath, bolstering herself for whatever it is she has to do next.

but scar just holds his hand out. "can you come sleep?"

gem is so surprised, she takes half a step backwards before she realises how rude that looks, and steps forward again, hoping she can play it off as rocking. "I don't- what?"

scar looks almost embarrassed, and gem finds herself getting even more confused. "well- if you-" he clears his throat awkwardly. "if- I can’t, um. I can’t be mad if you're.. not sleeping."

is scar being deliberately vague, or is gem's brain just too tired to understand what is going on? she shakes her head, still trying to process what scar could possibly mean. "I don’t- I don’t know what you-"

"I don't want you to stay up so late." scar says, and his voice is soft like gem hasn't heard it in months, and she might cry. again. "I just- I know you can’t sleep unless you have a distraction. I was trying to ask- can I be the distraction?"

gem takes a shaky breath. "oh." it's all she can manage- it's all she can think right now. gem is tearing up again and she wipes her eyes hurriedly. "I- are you sure?"

scar nods, smiling tearfully. "I miss you. I never- I didn’t expect how much." he holds out his hand again. "will- will you come with me?"

there's a moment of hesitation, of is she allowed, before gem slips her hand into scar's and squeezes. "i'd be happy to."

-

the conversation between her and scar on the way to his base was awkward and best, and plain old silence at worst, so gem was a little nervous for what it'd be like when they tried to go to sleep. what if scar changed his mind- or if one of them had another nightmare and suddenly both of them couldn't sleep? what if scar was just- lying, or something, and he was just expecting gem to say she was fine on her own?

gem has never been happier to be so wrong about something in her life.

in all the time she's known scar, gem has never seen scar transfer into bed so fast—and he practically pulled her after him before she'd even got her shoes off. once gem crawled under the duvet, she and scar may as well have just become one body. it's so bizarre, how easily they can pick up where they left off, even after so much time, and when gem rests her head against scar's chest, it feels like home.

and- void, gem missed this so much. the way they fit against each other like they were made for each other, the feeling of scar's hand in her hair, the warmth in her stomach as she burrows under the duvet- it's the closest to perfect that gem thinks can exist. it feels as if she could close her eyes and drift off in an instant, she feels so safe.

scar buries his face in gem's hair. "I love you." he mumbles, and gem almost starts to cry again.

"I love you too." she holds scar tighter, voice wavering embarrassingly. "i’m sorry- i’m so sorry. it- for everything."

"i’m sorry too." scar whispers, sounding close to tears. "I shouldn't have- i’m so sorry gem." he presses a kiss to the top of gem's head.

gem's throat is tight, and she swallows a sob. "it- it's okay. I didn't- you didn’t mean it."

"neither did you." scar's voice is painfully soft, and gem blinks back tears. "it wasn't- I have to-" scar gives a little huff—the one he does when he's tripping over his words. "I- gem, I forgive you."

it hits her a moment later, like something melting in her chest, and the tears that had been threatening to spill over come clawing back up her throat. I forgive you.

gem is sobbing into scar's shoulder, and scar is holding her tight and he’s crying too, and she knows that if she asked why, he'd say that if she's crying then he's gonna cry too, and she's missed him so much. her chest aches with each breath, and she doesn’t care because he forgives her, and she doesn't deserve it, but scar thinks she does, and there's nothing in the world more important than that.

"you’re- you’re so important to me, gem." scar says, voice thick with tears, but gem can hear his smile—which only wants to make her cry more. "I couldn't- there was nothing that would have kept me from you. not even myself."

"I love you." gem is still crying, and she's smiling, and she's hugging scar, and there's nothing that could ruin this moment. "i’m- I could never-" she chokes on her words and dissolves into another sob, holding scar like a lifeline.

"if- if you keep crying, i’m not gonna be able to stop." scar says, hiccuping a weak laugh.

"that's- that's your fault." gem manages through sobs, half laughing. "I blame you."

scar pulls her closer, and gem melts into him, tension she didn't even know she was holding leaving her. "you're so wonderful." he says, and gem almost sobs.

"you’re not- i’m gonna keep crying if you say stuff like that." gem says, and scar is laughing, and she's a mess but she doesn’t care.

scar forgives her.

[lemoncrushh]

This Is Me You're Talking To

Summary: You and Harry are divorced, but you both still have feelings for each other.

Warnings: Divorce, smut (sex with the ex), angst, lots of feelings

Word count: 3924

A/N: Written in 2016. Inspired by the song of the same name by Trisha Yearwood. Obviously, this isn't for everyone, but it's very personal to me and one of my favorite things I've written. Please be kind.

Hate is a strong word. At one time you might have felt like you hated him. But it had been a year now since the divorce and you'd both moved on. You'd resolved that you just weren't meant to be together and were never really on the same page. In the beginning of the relationship, you'd convinced yourself that you were okay with his busy lifestyle and the fact that your time together was limited. But after five years of marriage and two kids, you'd come to resent him for that exact fact, and you finally agreed it was time to separate.

Two months ago, you were out with friends for a long overdue girls' night out, the kids staying the night with your mother. You hadn't expected to run into Harry. You saw him regularly when you would drop the kids off for their time with him, but other than discussing their needs, you didn't speak to him very much. It just wasn't necessary. Knowing what he was doing with his personal life was no longer your business and frankly you didn't care.

So, when you were about to make your way to the bar behind your friends, you stopped in your tracks when you saw Harry slipping his arm off the back of a beautiful brunette. One of your friends twirled around to give you a wide stare, the other muttering "oh shit" and asking if you were okay. You rolled your eyes and assured them you were fine before continuing to the bar.

After ordering your cocktail, you caught a glimpse of Harry looking your way out of the corner of your eye. Quickly turning back to the bartender, you gave him a smile and a healthy tip when he handed you your glass.

"Y/N," you suddenly heard in an all too familiar voice.

"Hi, Harry," you sighed, barely looking at him.

"Out with some friends?" he asked with a weak smile. You knew that smile. You knew all of his smiles, actually, and what each one meant. This was his nervous smile.

"Yeah," you replied emotionlessly before taking a sip from your straw.

"You look amazing," he commented, stepping closer to you.

You shut your eyes for a moment, telling yourself his words didn't mean a thing. "Thanks," you said, eyeing one of your friends in hopes that she was ready to move to a table.

"How are the kids?"

"Fine," you nodded. "They're at my mom's."

"Good. I'm looking forward to seeing them next weekend."

You continued to nod, having nothing to add.

"How've you been?" Harry inquired.

"I-"

"Baby..." you heard a female voice from behind Harry. You saw her painted nails on his shoulder before you saw her face. "Let's go sit over there."

"Love, this is Y/N," said Harry, gesturing toward you. "Y/N, this is Sharla."

It took all you had not to quirk a brow, but instead you extended your hand, shaking the other woman's.

"Lovely to meet you," you smiled with pursed lips.

"You too," she said nonchalantly before releasing her hand from your grip and placing it on Harry's bicep.

"Well, I guess I'll...see you..." Harry grinned shyly.

"Yep," you nodded once more.

"Good for you," you suddenly heard behind you as Harry and the brunette walked away.

"I'm proud of you, Y/N," your other friend said as she wrapped her arm around your neck.

You let out a breath. "Gotta admit," you muttered, "that was harder than just seeing him when I drop the kids off."

"Well of course it was. Is that the first woman he's dated since you?"

"I have no idea," you replied, turning around. "But that's the first time I've met one."

"C'mon hon," bestie number one looped arms with you. "We're gonna find you another man."

You chuckled as you walked with your friends to the other side of the room.

"What the fuck kind of a name is Sharla?"

"Desiree had a little cold this week," you explained as you handed your two-year-old to Harry's open arms. "She seems okay now, but I put some medicine in the bag in case you need it."

"Alright," nodded Harry before turning to his daughter. "You feeling better now, Desi?"

Desiree beamed her angelic smile. "Better."

Harry gave her his mini version of a fist bump before giving her a kiss on her forehead. "Wanna watch TV with your brother?" Bringing the little girl into the living room, he set her on the sofa next to her four-year-old brother.

"Cameron, get your shoes off the couch, please," you instructed.

The little boy kicked his shoes onto the floor without prying his eyes from the cartoon he was watching. Crossing your arms, you turned to Harry.

"Something smells good," you commented.

Harry grinned. "Thought I'd make some spaghetti."

"Look at you," you quipped. Then you gazed around the room. "Where's Sharla?"

Sharla had been at Harry's the last two times you'd dropped the kids off. Though she'd been pleasant enough, you could feel her eyes throwing daggers at you the entire fifteen minutes you were there.

"Um...dunno," replied Harry with a shrug.

"She was busy?"

Harry ran a hand through his hair. "We broke up."

"Oh," you said softly. "I'm sorry."

Harry raised his brows and quickly looked away. "Yeah."

Biting your lip, you watched Harry turn for the kitchen where he stirred the contents of a large pot.

"Well, I guess I'll be going," you muttered.

"You um..." Harry stumbled, "wanna stay? For dinner?"

"Oh, I don't-"

Your words were quickly interrupted by the buzz of a timer.

"Damn, forgot about the garlic bread." Harry hastily opened the oven door and grabbed the baking sheet, not bothering to put an oven mitt on.

"Shit, bloody he-"

"Harry!" you exclaimed, just as he dropped the baking sheet on the counter.

"Sorry," he said, thinking you were upset at his cursing in front of the children.

"What do you think you're doing?" you scoffed.

You grabbed his hand and pulled it to the sink, running cold water over it. You could hear Harry's heavy breaths as he stood next to you, his chest heaving.

"You can't just grab something out of the oven without gloves, Harry," you scolded.

"I know," he mumbled. "I was..."

You lifted your eyes to him, his pouty lips partially open as heavy breaths continued to puff out.

"You were what?" you inquired.

"Distracted."

Exhaling slowly through your nose, you averted your gaze and returned to the task at hand.

"Looks okay," you cleared your throat, turning off the water. "Doesn't seem to be burned too bad. But you might wanna put some ice on it."

"Thanks," Harry said so low that you barely heard it.

Reaching in the freezer for an ice pack, Harry turned his back to you as you dried your hands on a dish towel.

"Daddy!" squealed Cameron as he came trotting into the kitchen. "Are we having pasketti?"

"We are, little man," Harry confirmed.

Cameron danced to the table, taking his seat without being told. Walking over to him, you kissed him on the cheek.

"Goodnight, baby, Mommy's going." Giving him a hug, you walked past Harry to kiss your little girl goodbye.

"You sure you don't wanna stay?" you heard Harry ask.

Lifting Desiree in your arms and propping her on your hip, you returned to the kitchen. "I don't know..."

"There's plenty of food," Harry gestured toward the pot. "Way more than we'll eat."

"It does smell good," you hesitated.

Harry gave you a smile. This was different than his nervous smile from earlier. This was his 'c'mon, you know you want to' smile. Stepping up to the stove, he grabbed the wooden spoon he'd been stirring the sauce with, bringing it over to you, his hand underneath to catch any drops.

"Give it a taste," he said.

You let him gently lift the spoon to your mouth as you tasted the delicious Italian seasonings.

"What do you think?" he asked.

You swallowed. "I think I'm staying for dinner."

Harry continued to smile as you walked over to the table and set Desiree in her high chair. Harry got a bowl ready for Cameron and set it in front of the patiently waiting boy. Then he did the same for Desi, giving both children a sippy cup of juice. You sat next to your daughter as you watched her starting to make a mess.

"Desi, you're gonna get more on your tray than in your mouth," you chuckled.

"She likes it that way," joked Harry.

You couldn't help but beam at him as he laid a plate of spaghetti and garlic bread in front of you, another plate for himself next to you. Returning to the kitchen once again, he uncorked a bottle of wine and poured two glasses.

"Cheers," he said when he handed a glass to you and sat down. You clinked glasses and took a sip.

"Oh that's the good stuff," you commented.

Harry winked. "You noticed."

Early in your relationship you'd confessed to Harry that you had a weakness for red wine. One night he surprised you with an expensive bottle that knocked your socks off. After that, he always made it a point to get it again for special occasions.

"What did you get this for?" you inquired.

"No real reason," Harry shrugged.

You eyed him as he took another sip and set his glass down, digging his fork into his spaghetti. Raising a brow, he looked at you out of the corner of his eye until you quickly picked up your own fork.

The four of you had a pleasant dinner. For some reason it didn't feel odd or uncomfortable. It felt like old times, although your kids were a year older.

After the meal, you helped clean up, wiping Desiree's face and setting her down to let her run back to the living room. Just as you were cleaning off the table and Harry had put the leftovers in the fridge, you turned around to find him pouring more wine.

"I hope you're not pouring that for me," you scoffed.

"Why not? You always used to drink two glasses. Sometimes three."

"That's when I didn't have to drive home," you rolled your eyes.

"Who said you have to now?" Harry asked before taking a sip from his glass.

You narrowed your eyes. "Harry."

"Wha'?" he sounded.

Shaking your head, you were about to reach for your purse that you'd left on the counter when Desiree emerged from the living room and took your hand.

"Mommy!" she said with excitement.

"What baby?" you asked her.

"Sit wiv meee," she replied, tugging on your fingers with her tiny hands. You followed her lead into the living room where she pointed to the sofa and demanded for you to sit. When you obliged, she climbed into your lap. Looking up, you saw Harry with a massive grin on his face. Then he crossed to the room to Cameron's other side and sat down beside him.

"What are we watching?" you whispered in Desiree's ear.

"Pooh bear!" she answered.

You and Harry sat through the rest of Winnie The Pooh and half of some other program that came on after it until you realized both kids were asleep. With delicate precision, you rose from the sofa with your baby girl in your arms, and Harry scooped up a sleeping Cameron. He followed you down the hall until you stopped at Desi's room and laid her down in her bed. Pulling the covers over her and pushing her hair back from her face, you kissed her temple. Then you met Harry in the hallway and traded places, giving Cameron a goodnight kiss. Shutting their doors, your eyes met Harry's and you gave him a tight-lipped smile before heading to the bathroom. When you came back out, he was standing in the kitchen again.

"Thanks for the dinner," you said softly. "It was nice. You know, to be with the kids and put them to bed."

"Yeah, usually I have to read them at least two stories each," he smiled. "Just something about their mum, I suppose."

You blinked, lowering your gaze. "Well anyway, thanks. I'll come pick 'em up Sunday."

"Wait..." he insisted when you turned for the door. "You're not gonna finish your wine?"

You twirled back around, the full glass of wine still sitting on the counter. "Um..."

"It's your favorite," said Harry, lifting the glass. "It'd be a shame to waste it."

"Harry," you shook your head, "what are you doing?"

He shrugged. "Wha'? I'm not doing anything. I just thought you'd like to have your wine. Just because we're divorced doesn't mean we can't be in the same room, does it?"

Licking your lips, you dropped your bag and keys on the counter again. He was right. It wasn't like it meant anything. You could be civil. "Okay."

Taking the glass from him, you followed him into the living room and sat on the couch.

"How's work?" he asked you.

"Ppppffff" you sounded, nearly spitting out your wine.

"Was that not a good question to ask?"

"You wanna talk about my job?" you rolled your eyes.

"I just wanna know how you're doing, Y/N," Harry remarked. "I know you don't believe it, but I do still care."

You sighed, sitting back in your seat. "It's fine. Work is good. No major complaints."

"Good," Harry nodded, "I'm glad."

His eyes seemed to be burning into yours so you had to look away, taking another sip of wine.

"Have you been seeing anyone?" you heard him ask and you flinched.

"Why?"

"I just wondered. You deserve to be happy, Y/N."

You huffed and shook your head.

"What did I say?" he looked taken back.

"Sorry, I just don't get out as much as Harry Styles. I don't have the opposite sex throwing themselves at my feet. Or the same sex, for that matter."

"Y/N..."

"What happened with Sharla?" you asked, rolling your eyes again as you pronounced her name.

Harry let out a low, short chuckle. "Sharla...was...not for me."

"But she seemed so perfect for you, Harry," you teased.

He narrowed his eyes. "No, she wasn't. Far from it."

Your expression softening, you tilted your head. "So what did happen?"

"She didn't want to be with someone who had kids," he swallowed. "Simple as that."

"I'm sorry," you muttered.

Harry ran his fingers through his hair and sighed. "It's alright. There were other things too, but that was sort of the deal breaker."

"What other things?" you asked curiously.

Harry looked at you and puckered his lips in thought, no doubt trying to decide whether he wanted to divulge this information.

"She wasn't very bright," he stated matter-of-factly.

You let out a giggle, covering your mouth with your hand.

"She once asked me what country Alaska was in."

"Oh my god," you laughed harder.

Harry chuckled, shaking his head. "I know. That shoulda been a red flag."

"Poor thing," you said.

"Who? Her or me?"

You threw your head back laughing some more until you realized you should keep your voice down since the children were sleeping. You finished the rest of your wine in one large gulp, setting the glass on the coffee table. It was then that Harry got up from his seat and walked to the kitchen, returning with the wine bottle.

"Harry!" you exclaimed when he started pouring into your glass.

"Not much left," he insisted. "We need to finish it."

With a scoff, you took the glass. You figured you might as well. You were already feeling tipsy, so it wasn't like you'd be driving right then anyway. Besides, as much as you wanted to deny it, you were feeling comfortable with Harry for the first time in over a year. Maybe it didn't have to mean anything. It was just...nice.

"Oh hey, I wanted to show you something," Harry finally said after you'd been sitting in silence for a few moments. Slipping his phone out of his pocket, he swiped the screen until he stopped on something that made him smile. "Here."

You took the phone from him and noticed it was a video. Pressing the screen, it came to life. In the center was Cameron sitting on the floor, a toy drum between his legs. You could hear the sound of a guitar strumming in the background and a voice singing, no doubt Harry's. As soon as Cameron started banging on the drum, little Desiree showed up in the screen, doing her best to dance to the mixed rhythms. You watched the video in awe, smiling from ear to ear. By the end, you were all choked up.

"That was great," you commented, handing the phone back to Harry. You sniffed and wiped your eyes.

"You okay?" he asked softly.

You nodded. "I loved that. You're..."

As your voice trailed off, you felt Harry shift on the sofa, sliding closer to you.

"What was that, love?"

"You're such a great father," you declared. "They love you so much."

"I love them, too."

"When did you take that?" you asked.

"Bout a month ago," he replied. "I kept meaning to show you, but forgot."

You nodded silently. Looking into Harry's eyes at that moment, you felt a sudden wave rush over you, like you were being pulled under. It was like the feeling you used to get with him, when things were good. As you lifted your glass to take another sip, Harry reached for it, stopping you. Taking it from your hand, you watched him set it on the coffee table. Then scooting even closer to you, he slid his hand under your ear. When he tilted his head to kiss you, you didn't stop him. You'd known it was coming, it was one of his signature moves. But you allowed his lips to press against yours. Even when he continued with the kiss, slipping his tongue inside, you didn't stop him. Instead, you allowed your body to come alive, urging him to keep going.

Dragging his lips down your neck, he felt him hum against your skin. His hands encircled your waist, the pads of his fingers traveling up your back as your own hands got tangled in his hair.

"Harry..." you finally sounded, not really sure how you planned to end that sentence.

"Tell me," he demanded, his voice low and raspy in your ear.

"What?"

"Tell me you want me," he finished. "Just like you used to. I need to hear it again."

You swallowed hard, not immediately fulfilling his request. When he lifted his head to look at you, his emerald eyes looked dark and full of fire.

"Tell me, baby," he repeated.

"I want you, Harry," you admitted. "I want you to make love to me."

With a nod, Harry kissed you passionately before rising from the couch and reaching his hand out for you to take. You followed him into the bedroom where he kissed you again, lifting the hem of your shirt until it was over your head and dropped on the floor. You fumbled with the buttons on his shirt and removed it, adding it to the pile. You wasted no time removing your jeans and underwear before you lied down on the bed.

As Harry hovered over you, warnings began to go off in your head. It had been so long. Your body missed his so much it ached. But your head was telling you this might not be a good idea.

When his lips met yours again, however, your body won out. You were so thirsty for him, you knew you had to have him, even if it was wrong.

Neither of you said a word. Your actions and your eyes spoke everything. With heavy eyelids, slid down your body, licking and sucking your nipples the way you liked. Everything he did was the way you liked. He knew your body better than anyone had or ever could.

When he made his way between your legs, you gasped and closed your eyes. His hands on your thighs, he nipped at your clit before sliding his tongue up your slit. He worked his magic, moving in circles, slowly at first before picking up speed. You grasped at the sheets beneath you as you felt yourself reach the edge, your toes curling.

"Oh my god," you finally sounded, a low deep moan rising in your throat as you felt the orgasm rip through you.

It wasn't until you were coming down, catching your breath, that you took in your surroundings and realization hit you. This wasn't your husband. He hadn't been for a long time. You had moved on a while ago. Yet, here you were in his bed.

Kissing your inner thighs, Harry lifted his head and returned to hovering over you. You legs trembled from the aftermath as he gave you a lopsided grin.

Harry didn't ask if you were ready for him. In all your time together, he just always knew. He didn't need to ask. You were always ready for him. Your body craved him. Swiping his hand up your wetness, he used it to lubricate his erection before entering you. He thrust a few times before you turned your head to stare at the wall. You weren't sure why, but you could feel the tears coming. This wasn't how it was supposed to be, you told yourself.

Grabbing hold of your thigh with one hand, his other next to your head, Harry moved in and out at a steady rhythm until he finally slowed to a stop.

"Look at me," he breathed.

Your head still turned to the pillow, you fought back the tears.

"Please," he begged. "I'm inside you baby, you can't look at me?"

Your chest shook with sobs as you finally lifted your eyes to look into his. Although they were dry, they revealed the same feelings and emotions as yours.

"I love you, Y/N," he declared. "I never stopped."

As another tear trickled down your cheek, you lifted your hand to touch Harry's face.

"You still love me too, don't you?" he asked.

Biting your lip, you nodded. Harry leaned his forehead against yours.

"Then what are we doing? We should be together."

A tiny sound rose from your throat as you threaded your fingers through his hair. Lifting his head slightly, Harry looked at you.

"Yeah?"

"Yes," you heard yourself agree, making Harry smile.

"God, I've missed you," he groaned, his hips slowly pumping once more. "So much."

"I missed you too," you admitted, your eyelids fluttering from the sensation.

"Feels so good."

You nodded again. You couldn't deny it. He felt incredible. He'd always been the best, the only one who could make you feel this way. So loved, so desired, so wanted.

You came together within minutes, panting with clumsy kisses. Afterwards, Harry turned out the light and pulled the covers over you. He didn't have to ask you to stay the night. Once again, he knew. He always knew.

As you lay there in the darkness, you wondered what this meant for the future, for your family. Maybe you didn't need to decide right away. Maybe you could start over, take it step by step. But one thing was certain. Wrapped up in Harry's arms was like home. And that's where you wanted to be.

Thank you so much for reading! If you enjoyed, please like, comment, reblog or send me a msg!

MASTERLIST | KO-FI | FEEDBACK

[rottingworship]

The smut prompts 72 and 80 ☝️😈

Withhhhh

Hoodie😳

MWAAH THANK YOU FOR THIS REQUEST!! This is actually longer than most prompts i've ever written ever omg... I got carried away... may write a part 2 involving tim :3

As always, prompts are from here! Divider is from sister-lucifer

Warnings: 18+ MINORS DNI!, fingering, innocent!reader, hint at corruption kink sorta (?), praise, finger sucking, F!Reader

Prompts: "There is no way anyone is that innocent." "What? Does that feel good?"

“There is no way anyone is that innocent.” Brian switches through the channels on the TV.

Tim shrugs, really not caring. “Ya never know.”

“She’s a killer.” Brian huffs. “We are all killers.”

“Not all killers fuck.” Tim rolls his eyes. “If it’s that big of a deal, why don’t you ask her?” Tim has had enough. He gets up and walks to his room. Brian is thinking about it. About how sweetly you interact with them. How oblivious you are to some of their jokes. The look on your face when some of them click.

The door opening brings him out of his thoughts. You walk into your home with a large smile on your face and a small bag of groceries in your hand. You tell Brian ‘hi’ and walk to the kitchen. His eyes don’t leave you.

You turn back around and your eyes meet his. “You alright, love?”

Brain tenses. Love… It’s what you have always called him and Tim both. There never seems to be any ‘love’ behind the word. But Brian wishes for there to be. He’s sure you're just being nice and friendly. You always have been. Somehow, you stay so loving…

“Yeah.” He stands up from the couch and begins to walk towards you. You don’t think anything of it. You put some of the groceries up and begin to walk past him. Brian stops you in your tracks, his hand grabbing your bicep. The way look up at him leaves him reeling. Brian holds you there. Without saying a word.

“You good?” Your brows furrow, but you don’t pull away. Your eyes show no sign of fear of him hurting you, but they do show extreme confusion.

“Is this an act?”

His question causes you to pout. “What? Is what an act?” You really don’t get it.

“You’re so-” Brian sighs. “Nevermind. I gotta go.” He is overwhelmed. It doesn’t take a lot for you to realize that. Brian is quick to leave your home. You try to get that interaction out of your head and finish putting up groceries. As you walk to the bathroom to finish putting things away, you remember Tim’s home. You walk to his room and knock.

“Hey, it’s me.” As soon as he gives you the okay, you open the door. “Is Brian okay?” It’s the first thing you ask. Tim looks at you and groans.

“What’d he do?”

“He asked if I was acting,” It comes out more like a question than anything, “and then, he just- He left.”

Tim snorts, trying to not smile. “He’s fine. Probably relieving some stress right now.”

“What’s he stressed about?” You cock your head at him.

“You.” It’s all he gives you. You are sent into a spiral. Your face contorts with confusion and you gasp. You stumble on your words, stuttering something out, before Tim saves you. “It’s not bad, he thinks about you too much though.”

“Too much!?” You are dumbfounded. “How much is the normal amount?”

“Probably the amount that I think about you.”

You cannot catch a break. You let out a groan and close Tim’s door, leaving him alone. You have no more questions for him. You want to call Brian and ask if he’s alright, but you aren’t sure it’s Brian that will answer. You sigh and go to your room. You already took care of your business (or the operator’s), bought groceries, and put them up. It is time for you to relax. And now you can’t.

You walk to your bathroom and decide to shower. You have had a long day, and maybe the hot water will help relax you. As you shower, all you can think about is Brian; his questions and whatever the fuck Tim meant about him. You cannot lie, Brian is always plaguing your mind. Even more so now. Does he like me? You think as you wash your body. Does he fucking hate my guts? You begin to stress. If he hates me, that would suck, we kinda have to work together for the foreseeable future. You want to explode. You finish up your shower quicker than normal and decide you cannot be in your room. You get dressed and head to the living room. You lay down on your couch and sigh. You flip through the channels and land on some corny horror movie. You keep it there.

Before you know it, you are dozing off. You wake up to the door of your house opening. You sit up and rub your eyes. “Who- Brian?” You make out his frame, and then his hood and mask. “Oh, it’s just you, Hoodie.” You lie back down on the couch and close your eyes. You have not interacted with Hoodie as much as you have Brian, but you still trust him.

“Wake up.”

The way he says it has you sitting up immediately. You look at him with wide eyes and your mouth is slightly agape. “What the fuck?” Your legs swing over the side of the couch and Hoodie sits down beside you. “Is this about earlier? Because I’m still confused.”

“You really are oblivious… You know that?” You cannot figure out his emotions. You can’t tell if he’s smiling or annoyed, and it’s bothering you. “You’ve got Brian wrapped around your finger, and you are completely oblivious.” Hoodie doesn’t move. You scoot down the couch, confused by the suddenness of everything. “I see what he sees in you, though.”

“What?” You sound groggy still. “What does he see?”

Hoodie scoots closer. You freeze, swallowing hard. “You’re an angel.” Hoodie says it as if you should be aware of that already.

“I assure you,” You put a hand up, “I am no angel.” Something clicks. Your face contorts again, changing from confusion to an awareness. Awareness of everything Hoodie is saying. “Is this about not understanding some of the jokes I hear? Because, I’ve never been around guys a lot-” You look away from him, embarrassed. “I was pretty sheltered until I turned eighteen. And, y’know, moved away. I’ve never really had many friends-”

“It’s not an act…” Hoodie sounds so primal suddenly. It causes chills to run down your spine. The hair on your neck is standing on end. You swallow hard and let out an awkward laugh. You can’t look at him. “It’s okay,” He coos.

“I think about you- Uh Brian, a lot…” You twiddle your fingers, biting the inside of your lip, “I don’t know- I can’t begin to tell you-” You can’t see his face, but he looks absolutely animalistic. You blink a couple times, collecting your thoughts. “Can you kiss me?” Your voice is hushed, barely above a whisper.

Hoodie does not hesitate. He lifts up his mask, just enough to reveal his mouth and moves towards you. His hands cup your face and he smiles as soon as his lips meet yours. You relax into his touch. Your mind is going a mile a minute. When his tongue gently runs across your bottom lip, you eagerly open your mouth for him.

Without missing a beat, as Hoodie shoves his tongue in your mouth, he effortlessly moves you onto his lap. You let out a gasp and your arms wrap around his neck. You are positively melting into his touch.

Hoodie pulls away and begins to trail kisses down your throat. Your brain is fuzzy and you can’t think straight. You let a quiet moan and Hoodie smirks against your skin. “Sh,” He hushes you, “don’t need Tim hearing us.”

You nod and try to keep quiet. Before you know it, your position is being switched. You are lying on your back on the couch and Hoodie is above you, he’s watching you. You can’t see his eyes, but you can see his smirk. You let out a whine and your thighs rub together. “Please,” You whine, “I need-” You cannot verbalize what you need.

“Use your words,” He leans down and begins to kiss your neck again, licking and nipping the sensitive skin.

“I need you to touch me!” You are frustrated. “Make me feel good, please!” You are begging at this point.

Brian laughs. His smile widens and laughs. Your face is burning up and you want to hide again. “It’s okay, baby,” he murmurs into your skin. “I can do that.”

Hoodie is resting on his arm, keeping his weight from being completely on you. His opposite hand begins to trail towards your shirt and straight towards the elastic of your pajama pants. His hand dips down and he begins to rub you through your panties. Your hips eagerly roll into his touch and Hoodie gently bites down on your neck.

“So impatient,” He hums into your ear.

“Please!” You are still trying to keep quiet. “Need you-”

Hoodie doesn’t falter. His fingers pull down your pajama pants and your underwear. He palms you, and you roll into him again. A little more violently this time. Hoodie slides one finger into you at first. His lips are still attached to your throat. Your breathing is becoming heavy and loud. Hoodie’s finger moves slowly, painfully slow at first. You buck into him and let out a soft whimper.

“Hm,” Hoodie hums into your skin. “I’m sure your own fingers aren’t this good, huh?” He is cocky. You shake your head, quickly. You cannot form words. You are left a mess under him. “What? Does that feel good?” He knows the answer to that. You nod. “I’m gonna add another, okay?” He sits up to watch your reaction.

Another finger pushes into you and a white, hot fire is lit in your core. Your eyes screw shut as his fingers slowly pump in and out of you, his thumbs grazing over your clit. You feel like you're in a tunnel. You can hear him commenting about how good you are, but you cannot respond. Your mouth falls agape and you are trying to form a sentence to beg for more.

“Faster,” You mumble, “please, faster!”

“Anything for you,” He coos at you.

He picks up the pace and you are writhing in pleasure underneath him. Every single time his fingers pull from you, your hips follow them. You need him.

“Close-” The word stumbles from your tongue, “so close.” Your toes curl. You are going to burst. Your body tenses and your eyes shut tight. Your nails dig into Hoodie’s back, clawing at the fabric. His pace, steady but quick, does not slow. He keeps going. No signs of stopping anytime soon.

You pull Hoodie to you, letting out a loud whimper. His name falling from your lips like a mantra. You are seeing stars as his thumb rubs your clit a little faster. A louder cry is pulled from you this time. Everything comes undone so fast. Hoodie is in your ear, mumbling to you how good you’ve been, how you deserve this, and kissing the shell of your ear.

Hoodie lowers himself on top of you as you come down from your high. His fingers pull from you and shoves them into his own mouth. He sucks on them. You feel yourself getting even more wet.

The door down the hall opens. “What the fuck?”

You hide yourself immediately. Hoodie laughs. “I told you to be quieter.”

[mochinomnoms]

Since PTM!Yuu has magic, does it mean they capable of flying on a broomstick? Do they have to take remedial flight classes since they wouldn't have been able to take the class in their first year? As someone who is absolutely terrified of heights, I know I'd be absolutely terrible at it and would probably need extra lessons to get anywhere with it lol.

Maybe coach Vargas gets Yuu to do some after-school flight workshops (i think thats what its called?) along with none other than Jade. I can imagine Jade trying to act suave and composed in front of them whilst simultaneously trying not to fall flat on his face on the broom. Maybe seeing him out of his depth and floundering will help Yuu see that there is more to this big bad eel than meets the eye 🥰

Yes! They can, but their classes vary by semester, like in a regular college. For the sake of story, I'm having the potions class be a two semester course for the sake of plot and looking at it the same way you would with a thesis or dissertation can sometimes be spread over multiple semesters. I also like to think about the more logistics about how NRC and its classes are run and have a lot of headcanons that I put in PTM.

But for flight, I like to think that flight class is one of those basics that all students have to take at least their first semester. Then they have an option to complete a sports club for the rest of their mandatory credits or continue with general physical education with Vargas, which included flight.

If you do particularly bad, such as merfolk in flight class, you are required to take a remedial class in that specific subject. In Jade and Azul's case, they both have to take a remedial flight class, but Floyd is able to get around it by being in the basketball club.

The remedial class is less about getting a good grade (it's a pass or fail class) but more about demonstrating that you are able to do basic moves and exercises on the broom. If you do, then you get a pass grade, which allows you to graduate. In the fic, I have it set that the remedial class is paired up with an advanced flight class, which is meant for students potentially interested in pursuing Spelldrive as a career. For extra credit or as an honors project, those students can be paired with one of the remedial students and tutor them.

With all that in mind, Grim tends to handle the magic bases classes in the canon storyline, or it's implied at least. I think that since they're in their second year in PTM, they have at least one semester for Yuu to catch up and make up for Grim's grades. So while they're not yet at the level that they'll need a remedial class or workshop yet (and for spoiler reasons the Nurse doesn't allow for them to participate in rigorous exercise), they might in the future!

What I do think makes for a fun scenario is Yuu needing to go to the class to take pictures, as is their job still. So they take pictures of the students in flight class! And imagine their surprise when they really pay attention to Jade and just how bad he is on the broom. He's always so elegant, it's so funny seeing how hard he clenches the brook and stares at the ground the moment his feet leave the ground.

It's almost cute, seeing him so nervous. He never lets anyone see him like this, but even Jade has his moments of simply being a person, rather than a perfect right-hand man. He even manages to get turned upside down at one point, though he's barely off the ground he's wrapped his legs and arms around the broom like is life depended on it.

Yuu can't help but laugh at him and his expression, covering their mouth to feebly hide their laughs. Jade is mildly annoyed that someone is laughing at him, until he realizes just who it is. Now he's admiring the cute sounds leaving their mouth and considering letting himself be the butt of the joke for just a bit longer. At least until his grip slips and he falls on his back.

[izzabela]

Hello! I was thinking about what would happen if the female reader was first to say "I love you" to the Lin Kuei trio (different scenarios) and since their whole lives involved with training and counseling emotions that they freeze upon those words and trying to process but it causes the reader to think they don't reciprocate their feelings and walks away depressed and now the boys have to figure out how to tell the reader "I love you" back.

Up In the Air - Lin Kuei x fem!reader (scenario fic)

in which your brazen love confession leaves Tomas, Bi Han, and Kuai Liang speechless

a/n: YUMMY REQUEST

ship[s]: tomas, bi han, kuai liang x fem!reader

warning(s): anxiety/panic attack mention, fluffy ends

[why the fuck does kuai liang sit like that, straight back and arms tucked in his lap, ON A WOODEN BENCH]

=====================

Tomas

"I love you," you tell Tomas softly, your eyes closed as you slipped your hands in his.

You two were walking around the compound, the Summer air and winds treating you two with a warm evening. Despite the warmth of both confession and evening, Tomas was at a cold still.

You and Tomas may have started as initiate and teacher, but as you climbed the ranks in the Shirai Ryu, you proved to be indispensable, unique, and talented. Grandmaster Kuai Liang appointed you as Tomas's second in command, and you two had begun spending more and more time together.

Tomas, despite being the ruthless and calculated ninja he is, was kind and soft with you. He spent nights with you when he couldn't sleep, spoke to you about his frustrations and fears, and even confided in you when he gets into arguments with his older brother.

He's your best friend, no doubt about it, but your heart yearned for more than what was available. You craved him to hold you longer than his hugs, do more than just pat your head, and even more than just walk side by side on an evening like this. In fact, you really hoped the confession you had planned would signify he felt the same way with you.

When you opened your eyes to see his expression, he simply stared back at you with emptiness. You were shocked at this response, since he was the most expressive one in his family- why was this any different? You were so sure of yourself, even talking to Harumi to see if she saw it as you did, and she assured his affections for you were mutual.

Your hopeful smile deflated faster than a clown's balloon, and you masked your broken heart with an awkward smile.

"I- I meant to say I love you... for the mission you sent me on!" you recovered badly, "Toughie, but definitely..."

You frantically let go of his hands and shuffle away from him, "Definitely worth... it... yeah."

Tears welled in your eyes as you realize your mistake. So stupid, for you to think he would love you the way you loved him. He was busy with his family drama, his new clan, and dealing with his newfound trauma- of course he wouldn't have room in his heart for you.

"Goodnight then, Tomas," you abruptly say, running away and retreating to your room.

Tomas watches as you leave him alone in the summer evening, your words hanging in the air and ringing in his ears.

When was the last time he heard those words? Perhaps before his sister and mother died back in Europe, or when Kuai Liang opened up his heart to him and accepted his brotherhood. Those words had lost meaning to him when Bi Han betrayed him and Kuai Liang that fateful mission at Ying Fortress.

However, when you said it, it was like all the color that had faded over the years came back. Sure, Tomas stared at you like he died inside (I mean, he kind of is), but it wasn't unwelcome.

As you rounded the corner of the compound, your stifled sobs echoing in his ears. Tomas leans back on a wooden pillar, hand clutching the patch of fabric that covered his heart. He grips his uniform tightly with that hand and runs his other through his hair. Tears burn Tomas's eyes as well and his breathing becomes labored, chest rising up and down as he puts his head in between his legs.

Kuai Liang and Harumi are chatting happily, but their conversations stop at the sight of the poor man on the verge of a panic attack. Kuai rushes to his brother's front while his wife is at his side, trying to bring the young man back.

"Hey, Tomas!" Kuai Liang yells frantically, "Tomas, look here brother. Stay with us, you can do it."

Tomas's head rises, chest still heaving as he makes eye contact with his sister-in-law and brother. Kuai Liang puts his hands gently on his shoulder as he coaxes him back to reality. Tomas matches his breaths while Harumi rubs his back gently and softly, like a feather duster on china.

"We are in Japan," he begins to list, "You are in Harumi's compound, it is Wednesday evening, and you finished a debrief with (y/n)."

At the mention of your name, Tomas looks at his family with worry, words sputtering like a struggling car, "Is she alright? She left crying after... after I..."

Kuai Liang looks at Harumi worriedly, "Tomas? What happened? Why is she of concern?"

Tomas is finally back to his usual self, ish. He sits up against the pole as he explains his dilemma to his family.

"So... you froze after she confessed to you?" Kuai deadpans, which earns a smack on the back of his head from Harumi.

"Tomas," she begins, "You must've been reminded of something, or perhaps letting her words register?"

"It's... It's been too long since I heard something like that," Tomas explains, "She said it with heart, brother and sister. So much I thought my own would explode."

Kuai offers his hand to Tomas, to which he accepts and gets put back on his feet. Kuai places a hand on his shoulder while Harumi holds onto her husband's bicep.

"And did you answer her? Give her your answer that you feel the same way?"

Tomas has loved you before he even knew it was called "love". He loved being able to talk to you, confide in you during his darkest moments, and just be around you. Normally, he'd say that his fire was his brother, but now it's you. You ignite something inside his heart, and it pushes him to put one hundred percent in everything he does.

Smoke follows your burning passion and dedication, and it's not just his magic. He wants to be with you more than command head and second, and more than people working to defeat evil, and definitely more than friends.

Tomas just stares at his brother before he shakes his head side to side. Kuai sighs and his head is down in disappointment, and Harumi nudges Tomas's shoulder.

"Well? What are you waiting for? Go on!" Harumi urges, "Come on, Tomas, before it's completely ruined forever!"

Tomas rushes to your room quickly, heavy steps padding on the wood in thumps. He finally makes it to your room, and unfortunately, he can hear your sobs past the thin material of the door. Tomas wants to slide the door to the side, but he simply announces himself with a knock.

"(y/n)?" he said softly, hand on the door, "By the gods, I am so sorry."

You stop crying, head turning to the door to see Tomas's silhouette past the door. You didn't want to come to the door, but you didn't want to sound like you were crying for a whole fifteen minutes. You wipe your tears and blow your nose into a dirty shirt before clearing your throat and speaking.

"Tomas? W-what are you doing? It's quite late, and you should be asleep."

You can hear him take a deep breath before speaking again, "(y/n), I..."

Your breath stops, your eyes watching Tomas's shadow fidget. Quietly, you walk closer to the door and press your hand and forehead on the door to hear him better.

"(Y/n)," he begins again, "I haven't heard those words in a long time- and I mean a long time. I lost my first family, my faith, my second family... I was so sure I could never feel this love again despite being surrounded by it.

More tears form in your eyes as he continues, "But spending time here, watching brother marry, taking Hanzo in, and meeting you... I realize that maybe things are turning up for me."

You carefully slide your door open, eyes meeting a tear-stained Tomas. He smiles weakly, wiping the tears away, but they keep replacing themselves as he continues speaking.

"(Y/n), you said you loved me. I hope I'm not too late in saying that I love you too."

You smile softly, taking his hands in yours and squeezing it. He's shocked, but he this time his eyes aren't empty. They're full of love, life, and hope- and there is no slowing down with the overwhelming emotions he was feeling.

The moon shines brightly over both of you, almost like the gods blessing you two with eternal happiness. There was also Kuai Liang and Harumi quietly stalking you two in the distance, but you two didn't care. Not when the confession isn't left hanging in the air.

=====================

Kuai Liang

"Oh my goodness," you say happily, "Thank you, Kuai Liang, I love you so much!"

It's the middle of the night, and you two were in Kuai Liang's room discussing battle plans and information over matters regarding the Lin Kuei. However, as you two were planning, you had lost a very special pen from your family. He stopped everything to help you find it since you were on the brink of tears. Your outburst, though, might make the dam burst.

"You... I beg your pardon?" Kuai Liang says with a bewildered look. Your face burns hot and grows pinky-red, you wave your hands around like a maniac, flailing as you try to explain yourself.

"I mean, I love you for finding my pen! I mean, I love how you found- Ah! Uh, agh..." you groan, sucking up your divine punishment and confessing, "I can't lie to you, Kuai Liang, not about how I really feel."

You knew them through Harumi, since they were childhood friends. And, like Harumi, you were the inheritor to your own clan, which specialized in tactical brilliance, weaponry, and manpower. You offered your support and frequented their compound, where your relationship with him grew from colleagues, to partners, to very close friends. You remember after a few months, you spoke to Harumi about your feelings towards him, and ever since that she's been doing her best to give you more chances to meet and talk.

This was no different. Harumi actually set this whole thing up, shoving papers into the already busy Kuai Liang's hands and telling him to work with you on it. Dutiful to his work and clan, of course he'd work on it, and Harumi made sure you could jump on this opportunity.

Now, here you were, spilling your heart out to your friend about the feelings you had been harboring.

"From the minute we began working together, you made me feel like I wasn't my clan's inheritor. You made me feel normal, like a person, and like a woman. Being a leader is tough, but being a female leader is harder- you grounded me. You made me feel... seen. And for that, I love you- very much."

He doesn't move, still like a marble statue. You look and search his eyes for any sign of reciprocation, any hint that perhaps that Harumi was right about the things she told you about your crush. But he remains unmoving, and your heart completely shatters. The dam in your eyes crumbles and you begin to let go. Finally, Kuai Liang reacts and robotically gets you tissues, trying to calm you down.

You look at him with a ridiculous "what the f#ck" face as he hands you a tissue, to which you knock the box out of his hands and storm out. All he can do, though, is begin to clean up quietly, leaving your sudden outburst in his head.

Kuai Liang kept his heart locked in a bulletproof, titanium metal, fire-proof, and multi-padded safe. He was loyal to his duty, family, and clan, emotions were good, yes, but they were unreliable to his mission. Yes, he cared for his friends and little brother, and yes he cared for the defense of Earthrealm, but that was duty- there's no heart in it. Hence, his robotic motions, however being with you slowly unlocked the layers that buried his heart.

He felt the same with you, truly, but with how tightly he locked his heart up, he was afraid. What if things don't work out? What if his heart overtook his mind? What if...

His thoughts were interrupted with Harumi stepping in his room, watching him clean up with a slacked jaw. She pieces everything together and puts two fingers on the bridge of her nose, sighing at the way her plan unfolded.

"How in the gods names did you mess it up?" Harumi seethes out to her friend, "What even happened?"

He sighs and sits down in front of the tissues and messy papers, "She, uh, (y/n), confided in me her feelings."

Harumi egged him further, "And? Did you respond? Did you say anything to her at all? You know, I see how you look at her and-."

Kuai Liang disassociates from her rant, processing your words even harder. By the gods, he does love you. He loves how you laugh when he tells you stories about Tomas, he loves your confidence, your leadership, and your very being. He, too, feels grounded, and being with you makes him forget the war he was fighting against his own blood brother. He would hate to see you drawn into this feud, but you already involved yourself by supporting him.

Funny, since love works exactly like that. You can deny it, bury it, lock it up as best as you can, but it always wins. Love is fun, fleeting, and scary, but when is anything in life not? Getting up, he towers over Harumi and asks for your location.

"Perhaps check the roof? I know she frequents the roofs when things become too much," she ponders, a finger on her chin.

Kuai Liang storms out and leaps on the walls that surrounded the compound. It's a huge plot of land that stretches far, right before a pine tree forest. However, he finds you atop the peak of a tower to the left of the main home. He sprints over to you, jumping, leaping, and climbing up to reach you. When he reaches you, you're eyes are wide and you try to scoot away from him.

"Go away, Kuai Liang," you hissed, "Just ignore what I said- it was a mistake." He doesn't listen, though, and walks closer to you while talking about his newly processed feelings.

"(Y/n)," he starts, "You are more than your clan's leader. You are the pride of your parents, the future of your people, and person that took my heart by storm."

You gasp, and he keeps talking as he squats to your level, "You cannot fathom how much your very being has helped me, but how I repaid your help, and love, was inexcusable. My heart has been locked up since... well, forever, and duty had really guided me for the rest of my life, for fear of losing everyone I know and love- including you."

Tears spill over your eyes, blurring your vision of Kuai Liang's face. However, unbeknownst to you, he too was holding tears back as he finished his confession.

"I love you, (y/n)," he whispers, "I love you more than anything. If you have me, my heart and duty is yours to command, yours to control, and for once I am okay with someone else taking control."

You nod happily, tears still streaming down as you bring him into a deep hug. The warmth of the evening and Kuai Liang's magic filled you with pure joy.

No, his fire did not waver, in fact, it burned brighter than any light in the entire universe.

=====================

Bi Han

"Thank you, Bi Han," you wince as wraps your bloody shoulder, "You did not have to do this." Bi Han grunts, but he does not halt any operations he has on you.

You had come back from a mission with Sektor across the world, in Japan to be specific. Sent to scope the possible locations of the Shirai Ryu base, you two were ambushed by a group of Shirai Ryu ninja and wounded pretty badly against the battle. There were losses, but you and Sektor came out victorious. Bi Han, though, was not pleased to see his second-in-command and familiar injured.

A cooling sensation came over your shoulder, and you sigh in relief when you realize it's Bi Han using his powers to relieve some of your pain. You lean backwards just a bit, your head hitting his lower abdomen area as you preen in the comfort. Bi Han flinches a bit, but it isn't unwelcome.

Bi Han was fascinated by you ever since you waited for him to wake up in the infirmary. In fact, you found him first while on watch duty, Bi Han's body sluggishly walking through the snow before passing out by the grand entrance. You were moved, the mighty grandmaster betrayed by his family and left alone. It angered you so much so that you began to train even harder than you already did, waking up early to get more reps in, more spars in, and more time to hone your deadly skills.

Bi Han saw your efforts, even offered to train with you (which was a big deal to your little heart). It was rare for him to spar with someone outside of his circle, even rarer for him to train with a simple soldier. He had you in his sights, though, ever since you waited for him in the infirmary. After his first spar with you, he concluded that maybe having you around would be nice.

Sometimes, you had breakfast with him after your spars. He would tell you all the places you needed to work n or improve in a scarily gentle tone. He would also send you on missions with people in his inner circle, your skills exceeding the expectation he held for his star pupil, Frost. But your favorite moments were when you two sat in comfortable silence, doing nothing but palace-temple chores, stretching, or walking around your home. This was something that solidified that he liked you too (although, delusions might have been taking over at this point).

As Bi Han kept alleviating your shoulder, your true feelings slipped out like buttery bread in a pan, "I love you, Bi Han."

The constant chill Bi Han's magic provided ceased immediately, and you don't realize the weight of your words until you feel the air grow chilly. You look at your crush's face and see a truly awful scowl on his face, his brows facing downward and the amount of lines that formed on his pale face.

You notice ice beginning to line his arms and growing around his feet as he grunts a command, "Explain. Now."

"I-It-It's, ah, uh," you stutter, his fear-mongering getting to you, "It was a mistake! I misspoke, Grandmaster, I was-," Bi Han wasn't buying it, though.

He barks the same order at you, so you give up and muster your courage to face your Grandmaster with a situation beyond his control.

"It wasn't a mistake, I apologize for trying to deceive you," you begin, "But what I am about to say is not a trick. I do love you, Bi Han, more than anything in the world, realms and universe combined. Your mentorship over me, and the little "friendship" we developed over the past couple of months has bubbled into this- I am in love with your firm leadership, quiet attentiveness to everyone within the palace..."

You looked in his eyes with unwavering confidence, finishing your last statement, "And I am especially in love with your comforting silence. The way your eyes spoke to me, the way we had mutual understanding while alone together, everything. I love it- I am in love with you."

You search his eyes for any sign of your feelings being reciprocated, but his pupils were small and his deep brown irises took over- there was no hope for any reciprocation. Your confidence shattered, and any pain you felt was gone as adrenaline forced you out of that room, sprinting away from the infirmary and somewhere else in the palace-compound. Bi Han, though, stood still and finally grasped the situation he was in.

Though Bi Han was no longer with his brothers, he recalled the memories of how he kept his heart so buried in ice and snow while he was living with them. Emotions were a liability, a weapon that could be used against him, and now that they were gone he thought he was safe- until you. You were his new liability, yet he wanted that risk, he wanted to have you because for the first time in a very, very, very long time, he was willing to put himself on the line for something, you.

The chilled air began to recede, and the ice that formed on and around him did the same. As he brought himself back to the real world, Sektor walked in on the scene. His cyborg-like helmet was off, revealing his aged face and hair wrapped in a tight bun in the back of his head. He carried tea, rice balls, and a content face, but it drops when he sees his leader.

"Grandmaster?" He asked carefully, "What in the realms happened here?"

Bi Han shakes off any remaining ice on his body, stretching his body in the process as he explains, "Nothing of your concern, Sektor. Leave."

He shrugs, not wanting to egg him on, but he departs with some useful information, "In case you were worried, (y/n) is in the training room. For what reason, I do not know, but she's been at it for roughly fifteen minutes now."

He immediately leaves the room, careful not to bump into his friend(?) and the treats he was holding. Quickly, he heads to the training room and finds you sparring with another assassin, completely obliterating them and sending them tumbling towards the wall. He huffs and jumps in the ring, watching your face morph into a foreign emotion he's never seen before- fury.

You taunt him, "I mean no disrespect, Grandmaster, but I am sparring. I never asked you to join."

He tuts his mouth, simply walking towards you to try and close the distance, "You are a strong-willed woman, that is certain."

Tears begin to well in your eyes, so you throw a punch at him to distract yourself, "Is that all, Grandmaster?"

The punch is easily caught by Bi Han's calloused hand, "Not yet, but let us see you work."

You grit your teeth, quickly letting go from his hand and throwing a roundhouse kick, which was caught again. He taunts you a bit more, "Closer, but you're close. One more, and I will speak."

Angered beyond compare, You unleash a fury of kicks, punches, and jabs to the grandmaster, all dodged by his years of experience. One of you punches was stopped, and he took you down on your back and pinned you to the floor. You wriggle and writhe under him, trying to get away.

"Will you allow me to speak? Or do you wish to cause more trouble?" Bi Han asks with a quizzical look and upturned brow.

You stay silent and turn away, the tears not stopping. He sighs, and beings to talk.

"You are strong, resilient in any task given. Kind, to everyone and not just me. But most importantly, you are a risk, and one I am willing to take," Bi Han says very softly, which differs from his usual demeanor, "One final risk, if you will take it with me, is that I do, truly, love you as well, (y/n)."

Your eyes widen and turn your head to him. The tears keep flowing as he gently pulls your head into his chest, raising you up with him as he cradled you in his arms. You hug him tightly, feeling his chill breath on your skin where it was exposed. He breathed softly, taking in this experience with all five senses.

The training room went eerily silent, the only sound being the footsteps in the distance and the gentle howl of the the winter wind. Yet, Bi Han kept you warm and safe with his embrace, perhaps another risk he didn't realize he was already taking.

=====================

if Bi Han didn't become an opp, maybe Harumi would help him bag a baddie too. also, when i described sektor, i used the mk9 version of him (best version of MK btw) to fill the gap. i discovered the power of the <s> button, and i will be using that to type my longer fics

i also understand the importance of tags and the specificity of them, so big ups and thanks to the accounts that told me!

thank you for reading, and i will see you in the next fic!

[sugarypinecones]

DODGE!!!!! god i want dodge so bad i want to lay between his stretched out legs and wrap my arms around one of them and rest my head on his thigh while he plays with my hair while we watch smth together but it's all background noise because his dick is so close to me mouf and i js wanna run my nose against the little outline from his washed out jeans IS THAT A CRIME IS THAT SO TERRIBLE please oh my god his strong rodeo arms i just wanna sit on his lap and rub my hands all over him im sorry i think im ovulating

(in lois griffin voice) whoever that was.. thank you….

NO because ur SO real.. like i audibly went holy to this, had to screenshot, send to council, and come back to re read again like that one sarah paulson video.

this was meant to be a tiny tiny blurb but it turned out way longer than expected so sorry lolz + f!reader

ALSO! if you sent an ask i am working on it, but i was on vacation so now im finally home and yupppp

send more asks. anything. i will try and match ur freak as hard as i can pls god, and anyways that being said:

like, get me; it starts out somewhat innocent. tired and lazy because of all the panic bullshit, you two decide to just stay home rather going out to all the random parties and events thrown between each game.

dayna and his mom don’t care that he has you over — they find it nice he found someone, a nice distraction from inside his head.

as for the show, it’s probably some random documentary or reality show: first thing he saw when logging into the streaming platform. he, genuinely, is probably engrossed in it, but you’re engrossed in him: how close you two are.

you’re laying between his legs, obviously, and his hands are strung around you messily, just wanting to have some sort of hold on you. how he’s holding you, you probably have no idea what, focused on the washed-out jeans of his — weathered from wear by rodeos or helping anne or anything else.

he’s probably yapping about something on the TV — “i don’t see how bestfriends could do that to eachother..” bla bla bla, you’re not really focusing in on it - humming, trying to sound interested in whatever it is he’s actually talking about. some “oh really?” and “i know..” are strung throughout the humming, but you have no idea if it’s actually appropriate to his talking.

he seems to catch on, though, unbeknownst to you. it’s hard not to notice his pretty girlfriend’s eyes focused directly on his crotch every few minutes, head shifting back and forth ever so slightly — making his dick twitch with need.

you wondered if his jeans are always this tight — wondering if you looked earlier you could’ve seen it, but the truth was, you really couldn’t. this only happened after the fact you got in the car — but obviously, you weren’t keenly aware of his crotch up until the minute you got in bed.

his hands run up and down ur back softly, and god it just makes the URGE to run ur face along the outline so much worse !!! he’s fallen quiet, so u slightly wonder if maybe something’s wrong or maybe he caught onto your disinterest in his words, so you glance up out of the corner of your eye, only to realize he’s been watching you for god knows how long.

he probably says something stupid, like: “you know the tv’s over there, right?” or “interesting?” something really dumb and smart-assy. you roll your eyes, probably say something back, and one thing leads to another and he’s nonchalantly trying to suggest you could do it if you wanted to.

so you do. and god !! does it feel as good as u thought it would. he twitches beneath u and tries to act like it’s really not turning him on as much as it is, but it’s hard not to, a sticky, wet patch is already forming at the tip of his cock; itching to bleed through the light jeans.

he ends up pulling you closer, forgetting all about the tv, bringing you into a hasty kiss, needy and desperate but still filled with tenderness.

you fix yourself on his lap, smiling into the kiss, glad you got your way, like it was ever a fight to begin with — it never was, he would give you anything you asked for whenever you wanted.

he’s so gentle when he touches you. his large hands wrapping around your waist as he pulls you even closer into his lap, his eyes closed, enjoying the kiss for a few more moments before pulling away, panting softly, breathless.

"you’re really not very good at paying attention." he mumbled breathlessly, a small smirk on his lips as he looked down at you.

he moved his hands down your sides, running them up and down your thighs, his thumbs brushing against the skin beneath the hems of your shorts as he shifted underneath you slightly.

“what’s going through your pretty little head, hm?” he mused, tilting his head slightly as he studied your face.

you hummed softly, looking up at him with a small, playful pout on your lips.

“well… i was listening,” you pouted, “kinda.”

he chuckled softly at your response, his hands continuing to run up and down your thighs, the touch of his palms warm and rough against your skin.

“you’re so cute,” he murmured, “but i don’t think you were listening at all.”

he leaned forward, planting a soft kiss on your nose, before continuing to trail his lips down your jawline and down your neck.

“i think you were too distracted by something else,” he whispered, his breath warm against your skin as he nipped at your neck softly.

he knew you far too well - he knew the way your body reacted to his touch. he knew how to make you melt.

he continued to nibble at your neck, gently, his teeth grazing your skin just enough to send shivers down your spine.

“can you even remember what i was talking about?” he murmured playfully, his hands still running up and down your thighs.

“of course,” you retort, clearly defensive. “you don’t get how best friends.. could do that to eachother.” it’s clear you were listening to him, but not the television.

he chuckled softly, his lips pressed against your skin as you spoke.

“of course you remember that part,” he teased, knowing damn well you were paying more attention to his jeans than the television.

he gently nipped at your skin, sucking on a small patch of it for a moment, before pulling away.

“you were paying more attention to something else, weren’t you?”

you flush. obviously you were — who could blame you ?? :(( he was just soo close to u and so there..

he caught the flush of your cheeks, a smirk playing at his lips as he lifted his head to look at you.

“aww, you’re so cute when you blush, you know that?” he teased, “especially when you realize you’ve been caught.”

he chuckled softly, his hands moving up to your waist, his fingers slowly slipping beneath the hem of your shirt.

you pull him into a needier kiss this time, hands roaming all over, as if trying to find the right place to grab: but all seemed so promising, that you couldn’t actually settle.

he groaned softly into the kiss, matching your neediness with his own. his hands gripped at your waist, his fingers digging into your skin, as he pulled you close into his lap.

he ran his tongue across your bottom lip, requesting access that you happily gave him. his tongue slipped into your mouth, exploring it hungrily, as his hands roamed across your body.

he trailed kisses down your jawline and down your neck, his lips leaving a trail of fire on your skin. he nipped at your collarbone, leaving small, love bites in their wake.

he slowly pushed himself back against the back of the bed, pulling you with him so that you were now laying on top of him, your legs on each side of his hips.

his hands roamed down to your legs, gripping your thighs as he shifted beneath you, his hips rolling up against yours.

he groaned softly as he felt the pressure against his lap, his lips still moving across your neck, leaving little love bites in their wake.

“you drive me crazy,” he mumbled against your skin.

you hum in response — too overwhelmed with pleasure to say anything other than jumbled messes, so simplify yourself with a hum.

his hands moved up, slipping underneath your shirt, and running his palms across your skin. he could feel the heat radiating off your body, and it only made him want you more.

he pulled away from your neck, looking up at you with his blue, lust-filled eyes.

“i want you,” he breathed, “so badly.”

your breath hitches — and you want to tell him to have you — right there, however much he wanted, but you can’t strangle any words out.

he moved his hands up to your hips, his grip tightening as he pulled you tightly against him, grinding his lap up against yours.

he let out a soft groan, his head falling back against the back of the headboard as he felt the friction against his straining jeans.

“you’re so beautiful,” he panted, looking up at you with a look of need in his eyes, “so damn beautiful.”

he slid his hands up further, pushing up your shirt as he did, exposing your stomach. he ran his hands up across your stomach and up to your ribs, his touch leaving chills in their wake.

he bit his lip as he looked up at you, studying your face, taking in your features as if he hadn’t seen you a million times before.

“i want you,” he repeated, his voice slightly hoarse with need, “all of you, darling.”

you leaned in, pressing a gentle kiss to his lips before pulling away.

“well,” you said, your voice low and sultry, “what’s stopping you?”

he looked up at you, his eyes darkening with need.

“nothing,” he replied, his grip on you tightening as he spoke.

he shifted beneath you, pushing himself up so that he was sitting up properly against the back of the couch.

“except for these damn jeans,” he muttered, his hands moving to the button on his jeans.

you’re quick to help him — eagerly pawing at the button, undoing it with ease.

he let out a soft gasp at your eager touch, his hands moving to grip your waist as you undid the button on his jeans.

he lifted his hips as you began to pull down the jeans, a small, needy whine escaping from his lips as the fabric slid down his legs and hit the floor with a toss of your hand.

“so fucking needy..” he groaned softly, his hands running up and down your sides.

he pulled you back down onto his lap, his hands gripping your hips tightly as he settled you against his lap.

his hips bucked up slightly, his arousal pressed against your thigh as he moved.

“you’re so good to me,” he panted, his hands roaming up and down your back as he spoke, “i’m so lucky to have you.”

he tilted his head, his lips tracing a path down your neck, nibbling at sensitive spots along the way. he left a trail of little love bites, his teeth grazing against your skin in a way that made you shiver.

“i want to touch you,” he murmured against your skin, his hands running up your thighs. “please let me touch you.”

you could give him permission a million times over — and he’d still ask before doing anything else in the process, so gently; a contrast difference to his rough hands.

“please.” you retort softly.

he groaned softly at your response, his hands gripping your thighs tighter as he pulled you closer.

“always so polite,” he muttered, his lips still trailing down your neck.

he slowly moved his hands up your thighs, his fingers slowly sliding under the hem of your shorts.

“i need you so badly,” he panted, his hands moving higher, “can i..?”

you nod vicariously.

he let out a soft sigh of relief at your response, his hands moving further up your thighs, until they reached the edge of your panties.

he ran his fingers along the edge of the fabric, groaning softly at the realization that he was so close to what he wanted.

“you’re so beautiful,” he murmured, “so perfect..”

you hum contemptibly, smiling.

he smiled at your hum, his hands slowly moving up, slipping beneath the waistband of your panties.

he ran his fingers over your skin, his touch gentle and soft, as he slowly moved towards your center.

he could feel you shiver with each touch, his own hips rolling slightly beneath you as he grew impatient.

he slowly moved his hand down, his fingers sliding across your sensitive flesh, his touch sending shivers up your spine.

“you’re so warm,” he murmured, “so ready..”

he gently began to rub at your sensitive bundle of nerves, his touch light and teasing, as his other hand moved to your hip, holding you in place.

he groaned softly at the feel of your reaction, his eyes studying your face intently.

“so beautiful..” he repeated, his fingers slowly increasing their pace.

he watched as you began to move against his touch, your hips rolling in response to his touch.

he groaned softly as he felt you press against him, his own arousal growing more and more with each small movement you made.

“that’s it,” he panted, “just like that..”

he continued his movements, his fingers quickening their pace as he felt you growing closer.

he could feel your body shaking with need, your hands gripping tightly onto his shoulders.

“just relax darling,” he murmured, “let go for me..”

he continued to rub at your sensitive core, his fingers moving in a steady rhythm, as he watched you grow closer and closer to the edge.

he could feel your body growing tense, your grip on him growing tighter, as you began to whine and pant with need.

“that’s it, just like that..” he repeated, his own hips rolling up against you as he continued his ministrations.

he watched as you grew tense, your body trembling as you reached the edge, your eyes squeezing shut as you arched your back slightly.

he kept up his movements, his hand still rubbing at your sensitive flesh, continuing to bring you closer and closer to release, “come for me, please..” he panted, his own need growing stronger by the second.

he could feel you growing closer and closer to the edge with each second, your breath coming in soft pants and moans as you teetered on the brink.

and finally, you came, your body shaking as you reached your climax, a soft moan escaping from your lips.

he continued to move his fingers gently against you, helping you ride out your orgasm, as he spoke softly, “so perfect..”

he gently pulled his hand away from you, his eyes watching as you came down from your high. he studied your face, taking in your flushed cheeks and messy hair.

“that’s it darling,” he murmured, “just breathe..”

he moved his hands to your hips once more, holding you tightly in his lap as he waited for you to regain your bearings.

[trippinsorrows]

with me + part sixteen

authors note: this is a nice lil break from all of the angst! ya'll deserve it! just.....remember that storms sometimes come in cycles, so let's just enjoy now! also, my legal knowledge is limited, so we take some creative liberties. just go with the flow, bro.

i also wanna just say thank you, as always, to all of you who enjoy this story of mine! i hit over 100k words and 300+ pages in the google doc i write this in, and it's such a special thing that i feel largely goes to you all for the wonderful support. so thank you!!!!

status: in progress // masterlist

warnings: angst (good-ish?), fluff, language, suggestive themes

song inspo: with me by destiny’s child

faceclaims

words: 7k

taglist: @pixiedust4000 @yolobloggers @msbigredmachine @southerngirl41 @wanderingreigns

The hearing to see if the open case against you moves forward is scheduled for 8am on February 15th, 2024.

You’re outside that courthouse at 7am sharp on February 15th, 2024.

It’s all you could think about in the days leading up. Once you learned that you passed your home inspection, there was a bit of relief but still that bitter feeling of not knowing how the court date would go that kept you in that loop of misery.

Joe, bless his soul, has been a saint, staying with and supporting you in between his frequent trips to your mom’s house to spend time with Callie.

And Alexis…..my God, you’re not sure how and if you could ever repay her. She gave you a detailed play by play of her attack on Mariah, and while on the surface level, it pleased you to know that bitch got her ass beat.

It didn’t do shit to the emotional pain you’ve felt at having your child ripped away from you.

Hate is a strong word, but you hate her. She could drop dead tomorrow, and you’d spit on her grave.

It’s a bold sentiment but also how you feel. Maybe it’ll go away as time passes, or maybe it won’t. Truth be told, you don’t really care too much about it either way.

You’d hoped Alexis would stay around a little longer, as you deeply enjoyed her company, her support, wanted to express to her how much her grounding you and keeping you from catching a case, putting herself at risk for catching a case, meant to you. But, in true Alexis fashion, she’d hopped on a flight and skipped town.

It wasn’t entirely surprising. She can never be in one place for too long, but it does leave a little bit of a sting. 

Granted, in her words, “Girl, don’t worry, I’ll be back when my warrant becomes active.”

The memory brings a small smile on your face as you sit in the courtroom, hearing the details of the case presented to the judge. 

It’s a daunting ordeal but not nearly as difficult as you anticipated, mostly because there is literally nothing being presented that could implicate you in any way. Truthfully speaking, the prosecutor and your public defender sound like they're advocating for the same thing: a complete dismissal. 

It provides you a small slither of reassurance and validates your request to have Joe stay at the apartment. In the negative percent chance that something went wrong today, you wanted to continue to keep his presence in Callie’s life a secret. Push comes to shove, he could serve as a liaison between the two of you.

The presenting of the “evidence” lasts much shorter than you were anticipating, and it’s when the court is ordered to stand, that the rush of anxiety returns. It takes a lot in you to settle yourself, to keep your foot from tapping, to keep from falling out.

Reminding yourself that not a speck of incriminating evidence was presented, thus no basis for moving forward with the investigation, is what keeps your centered.

As centered as one can be in this moment. 

There’s a brutal delay in the moments before the verdict is handed, one that makes your throat dry and eyes water. It’s suddenly so overwhelming, but you force yourself to pull it together. 

Judge Merritt removes his glasses from his eyes and releases a heavy sigh. “In all my years on this bench, this may be the most frustrated I’ve felt by a case before me.” For a second, your stomach drops. What does he mean by that? “There is not an ounce of evidence before me to support the actions that were taken nor the claims made against the defendant.” A shaky breath leaves your mouth as you ground your feet into your heels. That’s definitely not what you were expecting him to say, but it’s most definitely what you were praying he would say. 

“The law is the law, and I respect all parties involved who followed protocol. But my God, what a waste of time and resources.” He then directs his focus specifically on you, gaze almost apologetic. “Young lady, I sincerely apologize for the stress this situation has put you and this innocent child under. What a disgrace. Whoever made these horrific, false accusations against you, may God have mercy on their soul.” He reaches for his gavel. “All charges are dismissed against the defendant on the basis of no evidence. This case is officially closed, and the child is to be returned to the defendant’s custody, effectively immediately.”

At the same moment he bangs the gavel, you double over, hand over your stomach, crying almost instantaneously. “Thank you,” you say in between tears and share a hug with your lawyer. Surely, this is the easiest case they’ve ever defended, but it’s now one of the most important moments of your life.

You don’t hesitate to gather your jacket and adjust the purse on your shoulder as you murmur a goodbye to the lawyer and make your way down the aisle of the courtroom. You’ll probably send him a thank you card with a heartfelt message at a later date and time, but that’s not a priority currently.

The only thing you want and need is to go get your baby.

You’re looking down, trembling hands digging for your car key in your purse when you hear it, the single most beautiful sound to exist in this world, in your world.

“Mommy!”

There’s a good chance you risk whiplash when your head snaps up at the sound of the voice you’ve been almost dying to hear for the past couple days. It’s so worth it when you land your eyes on that dimpled smile that makes your life have meaning.

“Callie…..”

Before you can even close the gap between the two of you, Callie’s little feet are moving across the busy lobby of the courtroom. You literally drop to both knees, arms spread to accept her hug when she throws her body against yours. 

The tears intensify as you hold her close, hold her tight, like you’ll never let her go. And you won’t. Never again. “Calista….” She’s crying into your chest the same way your tears are soaking the top of her head. “My baby. My sweet baby….”

Callie pulls back to look at you with a frown you hope to never see on her face ever again. “Please don’t leave me anymore, mommy.”

“Never,” you vow. Law be damned, nothing could ever separate you from her again. “I will never leave you again.”

It’s the joy and happiness you feel at being reunited with your daughter that prevents you from asking just why the hell she’s at the courthouse. But, that question is answered when footsteps approach the two of you.

Your heart swells again. “Mom….” 

Your mom is the first to pull you into her for a hug that includes the three of you. She pulls ways, tears in her eyes. “There was no way on God's green earth I was going to let one more unnecessary minute pass before letting that baby be with you again.” It’s clear Joe communicated the time of your court date with your mom to make sure she would be here right on time for the dismissal and subsequent return of custody of Callie to you.

He’s literally the perfect man.

You can’t stop hugging Callie, can’t stop holding her tight, almost needing to have her in your embrace. It’s when you turn to your mom though, needing to express something to her but not entirely knowing how that you loosen your hold a little bit. “I’ve missed you so much, mom, but….”

She lifts her hand to stop you. “I understand, sweetie. We’ll catch up.” You appreciate her so much in this moment. She must know all you want is to be able to have Callie back in your place again, return to some semi sense of normalcy. “Go take your baby home.”

She gets it. You love her and have missed her dearly. However, you just want to go back to your place, especially as Joe is eagerly waiting for Callie to be back with you as well. Just want her to be home.

“Thank you, mama,” you hug her again, sniffling. She holds you for a minute and then steps back, brushing a hand over Callie’s face. Callie, who hasn’t pulled her head away from where she’s laying on your chest. 

You thank her yet again for all she did. She had to have been out of work the past week to stay with Callie, and you make a mental note to talk to her about giving her some money for that time she couldn’t work. You know she does okay for herself, but that loss of income has to impact her one way or another.

She may not accept it, but you still want to offer.

The car drive is full of Callie catching you up on everything you missed in the days without her, and you eat up every second of it. She’s even more thrilled when she sees that Joe is at the apartment, waiting for you and her with breakfast already prepared.

He really is a gem.

The three of you enjoy your meal, Callie opting to sit on your lap as she eats, clearly wanting to be close to you. 

The feeling is mutual. 

Joe had made a comment just yesterday, partially frustrated as it was Valentine’s Day, and he wanted to do something nice for you, something nice with you. But, he already knew you weren’t really in the mood for anything other than sulking and obsessing over your court date. Still, he was just irked about the situation as a whole and its hindering him spending what should be a special day catering to you.

You’d calmly explained to him that the best valentine's day gift you could receive was returned physical and actual custody of your daughter. And to have her back, to have just that, means the absolute world to you.

All you need is her.

Hence why the rest of the day is spent holed up in your apartment, Callie taking the lead and dictating what she wants to do. A lot of play. Some movie viewings. Occasional food breaks. And a lot of wholesome fun.

It warms your heart to see how happy she is to be home. 

The three of you are sitting on the floor of your living room, coffee table moved to the side to make room for all of Callie’s art supplies she ‘shares’ with the two of you as you all color. It’s about halfway through the day, when you realize you’ll need to start wrapping up to get her in bed.

Clearing your throat, you catch her attention. “Callie….your dad and I want to talk to you about something.” Her eyes lift from the page and settle on you with a heightened level of curiosity. Reaching out to brush back some of her hair, you start to explain, “you know how we live here in mommy’s place in this town?” She nods. “Well, daddy actually lives somewhere else when he’s not working.”

Her eyes fall on Joe as she asks, “where do you live?”

He answers with the gentleness you’ve noticed he reserves for her and only her. “I live in Florida.”

Her eyes flash with a glimpse of excitement. “Really? That’s where Disney is!”

Joe chuckles, and you can tell he doesn’t want to focus too much on that aspect of the move. He wants Disney to be an absolute surprise for her. “It is, but almost all of your cousins all live in Florida too.”

The excitement grows as she clarifies. “Cousin Jon and Cousin Josh too?”

Joe flicks her nose. “Yup.”

“Callie….” You redirect her attention back to you, taking both of her hands in yours. “Your dad and I think it’s a good idea if….if you and I move to Florida with him.” You quickly add on. “We’ll get a house together, and we’ll all live with each other. That way when daddy comes to visit, he’ll be at home with us.”

You can tell she’s sitting on the words, processing and making as much sense as a 4-year-old can make out of a situation like this. Finally, she asks, “will I still see grandma?”

This is when Joe jumps in and assures her. “I will make sure your grandma can come see you whenever she wants, baby girl.” Callie is too young to understand the underlying meaning of his words, but you catch on quickly. He’ll pay for your mom to come visit whenever she, you, or Callie want to see one another. “And you and mommy can come here and visit however many times you want to.” At this point, as this man is already forking up most, if not all of the money for a house, you have a hard time finding it in you to protest any of this. Especially as it primarily benefits Callie.

Again, she sits on this new information and asks a follow up question. “Can we get a backyard?”

Joe is quick to answer. “We sure can.”

She glances up at him with those sweet eyes you’re almost certain he’s physically incapable of saying ‘no’ to. “A big backyard?”

Joe suddenly reaches over and lifts her up high. Callie’s sweet giggles are food to your soul. God, you missed her. “As big as you want.”

Settling into Joe’s lap, she shoots you a wishful glance. “And a puppy, mommy?”

Laughing, you reach and tickle her side. “Nice try, sis, but you know the rule. Not until you hit double digits.”

Joe gives you that look. That look that tells you this is clearly something he wants to “discuss” further when alone, i.e., try to convince you why you should cave. You’re open for the discussion, but you’re not changing your mind. Callie is entirely too young for a pet, because you would be the one taking care of the damn dog most of the time anyway. And as you weren’t raised with animals, it’s not really your thing.

Maybe a fish.

Settling down, you ask her again as she sits comfortably in Joe’s lap. “So, you’re okay with this? With us moving?” Before she can answer, you add. “We’re going to try to find a house soon, so….so we can move as soon as we can.” This is the part you struggle with the most. Not having a lot of time to prepare for such a big thing, but you also know the sooner you’re out of that town, the better. Not being able to give her more time to say goodbye though absolutely sucks. 

Still.

You have to get Callie out of this town. 

“What about my graduation?” There’s a hint of sadness to her question. Understandably so. This is a big accomplishment for her. 

Joe offers, gently. “We’ll do something special for your graduation. I promise. Maybe invite your cousins.”

“With ice cream?”

“Yes. With ice cream.” Laughing, you share a look with Joe who nods for you to share the next part. “Hey, baby?”

“Hmm?”

“You, me, and daddy are gonna spend some time in Florida this weekend so we can go tour a house and see what we think of it.”

It’s something you and Joe discussed at length the night before. Well, more him telling you that he thought it’d be a good idea if you could get away for a couple days. You’re pretty sure he expected more of a protest from you, but he received none. The idea of being in a completely different state with Callie is more appealing than you think he realizes. 

It’s not a hard sell.

As with most of this discussion, she’s clearly intrigued. “Really?”

Nodding, you continue. “Daddy’s gonna fly out with us tomorrow morning, but he’s gotta leave tomorrow afternoon to get back to work, so it’ll mostly be you and me this weekend. But, I talked to your cousin Kaylah and we’re gonna see if you and Ellie can have a playdate.”

Both Kaylah and Trinity have checked on you often in the past week, offering words of support and encouragement that truly held you up in moments where you were already feeling so low. 

They make the idea of moving and having that kind of support system that much more enticing.

Connecting with her cousin clearly chips away some of Callie’s sadness as she cheers. “Yay!”

It pleases you immensely that she took the news so well, though a large part of you believed she would. 

This is what she’s always wanted.

A family. 

————

Traveling with Joe is so much easier than traveling alone, mostly because of how helpful it is to have another adult present when flying with a child. Naturally, Callie stays close to you, but it’s the closeness and holding her most of the time while Joe handles luggage and checking you in for your flight that you appreciate more than anything.

You’re appreciative of all he does for you, but it's physically being there that makes the biggest difference. His money is fine and all, but you don’t care about that shit. You just need him. That’s all.

Of course, he got you all first class tickets but unlike the last time you flew with Callie, instead of her being the social butterfly that she is by making friends with the flight crew, she’s fast asleep in her seat. It’s not entirely unexpected considering the ungodly hour you had to wake her up at to make it in time for the flight. If the situation was different, you’d have objected to such a crunch timeline. However, as Joe literally has a show tonight, the earlier the flight, the sooner you could view the house, the better the chances he can make his flight out in time.

Joe’s apartment is exactly as nice as you imagined it to be. It’s definitely luxury, but it looks like it’s unlived in, which is expected. You know he spends most of his time on the road. He’s probably been at your place more than he’s been at his own in the past couple months.

That’s just the life of a professional wrestler.

You lay Callie down in the guest bedroom and let her get in a little rest while you freshen up in the shower before Joe shows you around his place, where things are and whatnot. He tries to get you to take a nap, but it’s hard for you to sleep, especially when you slept as well as you did the night before.

The best sleep you’ve had since Callie was removed from you.

So, you instead catch up on some emails, mostly work related, navigating a time to meet with your principal and figure out some plan for your resignation. You’d be willing to stay on with the school system to guide and help out whoever they hire to replace you, so long as they understand it would be a long distance type of situation. 

Regardless, it’s not a major concern. Your family comes first. 

Joe, being the perfect man that he is, fixes a breakfast for you and Callie to eat before you head out. And it’s nice to finally be able to eat without emptying your stomach less than half an hour later. It’s even nicer to be able to share that breakfast with the two people you love the most.

Similar to breakfast, the car ride to the viewing is a fun time, Joe allowing Callie to have control of the music. She, of course, asks you to play her Disney playlist.

You don’t hesitate. You’ve missed this, missed all of her requests, everything about her, really. 

But pulling up to said house is an entirely different experience.

“Holy shit,” you breathe as Joe pulls his Range Rover into the driveway behind the red Tesla you’d guess belongs to the realtor his manager hired for ya’ll, Jen.

“Mommy, you said a bad word,” Callie scolds, and Joe chuckles. You shoot him a side glare which only makes him laugh more as he moves to unbuckle Callie from her booster seat. 

“Mommy’s sorry, baby.” It’s a genuine apology, but you don’t actually regret what you said. You can’t help it. The house looked huge in the pictures, but it’s massive in person. You feel like you’ve just walked into Beverly Hills or something. Like if the house wasn’t secured by a massive, black wrought iron gate, the neighbors would call the police on you for trespassing on some where did you people come from BS.

Jen, the realtor, is waiting for you in the foyer of the house. She’s nice enough, seems genuine and chill. But, it’s hard to focus too much on her when you’re stuck in a state of awe at the fact that you’re literally standing in a mansion. Callie instantly falls in love just from the fact that her voice echoes near the entrance, among other things as well, but that fact alone wins her over immediately. 

You find it strange, however, when Jen basically leaves the three of you alone to tour the house. Granted, you’ve never actually been on a house tour, everything you've seen on HGTV indicated homegirl is supposed to actually, well, sell the house.

“Sis must not care about this commission,” you whisper to Joe, but a gasp immediately leaves your mouth afterwards as you walk into the kitchen. “Oh my god….” You’d fallen in love the minute you saw the pictures, but seeing it in person is a whole other experience. “Look at the ovens.” The open floor plan of the kitchen alone probably rivals half the size of your apartment back home. Maybe more. “Is this real granite?” Running a finger over the cool stone, you realize that in a house this big and luxurious, it only makes sense that everything included is real. 

And expensive.

Callie giggles, standing close to Joe. “Maybe mommy can learn how to cook.”

Smacking your teeth, you playfully cross your arms over your chest, warning, “okay, I’m forreal. Ya’ll better leave me alone. I try.” 

“Yes, you do absolutely try.” You can’t move fast enough to punch Joe’s arm, a small laugh leaving his mouth at your slowness. Or maybe it’s just his speed. You can tell he’s been hitting the gym harder in preparation for WrestleMania, and it’s paying off, paying off very well. With everything going on, you haven’t had the time nor desire to show him said appreciation. 

An unfortunate occurrence indeed. 

“Let’s look at the rest,” Joe encourages, leaning over to pick up Callie, though something tells you she’ll be wiggling to get down and explore with her own two feet. 

Following them, you’re grateful that you wore your most comfortable pair of sneakers. Exploration of this home is a workout in and of itself.

Sure enough, you’re barely into the back of the house when Callie asks to get down, running into the movie theater room. “It’s just like the movies!”

“It sure is….” Touring the rest of the residence is something like out of a fantasy. There’s not a single thing you can find wrong with this house. The rooms, and there are plenty of them,  are large, spacious, ready to be decorated as you see fit. You even come across two spaces that you could see being your and Joe’s office spaces. That’s one thing you really did miss after giving up your office for Callie to have a playroom. This house is big enough for her to have two playrooms if she wants.

And you know Joe would give it to her. 

The master bedroom is literally perfect, but the bathroom is even better with a separate shower, bathroom, and large his/her sinks with counter space that links the two sinks. It conjures inappropriate thoughts about how said space could be used. 

But, it’s really the backyard that does it for you. It’s humongous, beautiful green grass stretching out for what seems like a mile. There’s a separate attached building that you already know Joe would turn into a home gym, a beautiful pool that’s covered up, covered patio and just nothing but room for Callie to run around.

And she does just that.

Her little legs take her all over the greenery as you take in everything else. 

Joe suddenly turns you toward him. His hand is on the back of your neck, and his voice is almost vulnerable, as he asks, “do you like it?”

Maybe if not for the emotional rollercoaster you’ve been on the past week, you’d hit him with your usual smartass remark. But, that’s neither a desire nor an option, as you answer with equal vulnerability. “I love it.” It’s when you see that spark of excitement and relief in his eyes that you see a glimpse of Callie, see her smiling face and big, hopeful eyes. You’d never realized just how much of him is in her. “But Joe, I don’t want you sp—”

“It’s ours.” 

One, two, three blinks precede you asking with a stutter in your voice. “W–what?”

His hands shift to your hips as he repeats himself. “It’s ours.”

There’s a hint of alarm growing in your body and projected into your voice. “You’re saying that like it’s supposed to make sense, Joe.” 

He brings his lips to your forehead and says, “this is our house.”

You’re hearing him, but you’re not actually hearing him because there’s no way in hell he can be serious right now. No way that he can seriously be telling you that this beautiful house you’re standing in, the kind of house people can only dream about having one day, the level of luxury that’s reserved for Pinterest and vision boards…..is yours.

Chuckling at your probably expected reaction, he adds. “I could tell by your facial expressions just looking at the pictures that you loved it, so I asked Kaylah and Alexis to come see it, since Kay knows what I like, and I know Lex knows what you like.” You suddenly realize why he was being a bit strange with his phone the other day, a stark difference from the man who literally told you his passcode even when you didn’t ask for it. Going through your man’s phone was never your thing, especially with him. You trust him too much for that shit.

It also explains Alexis' sudden departure. She was checking out the house for you, seeing if it was something that you would like. Obviously, it’s not something you like.

It’s something you love.

Joe continues to explain. “Now, technically, the signing isn’t until next week, because I wanted to give you and Callie a chance to see it for yourselves, but it is under contract to make sure it’s ours….if you want it.”

If…..

There is no if in this situation.

“Joe…..” Tears are burning your eyes, and it’s still hard to comprehend just what he’s saying, but the reality is also setting in as well. “You seriously bought us a house?”

His expression softens, voice lowering as he reminds you. “I told you, I love you, and I want to be with you. Wanna be with Callie.” 

It’s hard to not be choked up in this moment where this man has literally purchased an entire house for you. And not some small 1 bedroom, 1 bathroom starter home in the middle of bumfuck nowhere but a literal mansion, a dream.

Sniffling, you nod to yourself, laughing tearily and reach up to hug him. Joe’s arms are immediately around you, holding your body close to his. “Thank you.” He must have done all of this in under a week, recognized how difficult all of this was on you and wasted no time in speeding up this process to get you what you need. “Thank you so much.”

He’s always there for you when you need him, and you’re not sure how to help him understand how that means the absolute world to you.

Callie runs over to where you’re standing, trying not to be a blubbering mess. Your emotions have been all over the damn place lately. Thankfully, she directs her question to Joe. “can we come visit here when we move to Florida? It’s so fun!”

You give Joe a nod, indicating to him that he should tell her. This may be a moment for all of you, but it’s a special thing you want him to be able to have with Callie. 

“Baby girl….” He kneels down on knee in front of her, gently pulling her closer to him. “This is our house.” She gasps, and you can only imagine the happy smile on his face. “You, me, and mommy, we’re gonna live here.”

“Really?” Her excitement is palpable and stretches across the entire premises. “Forever?”

He chuckles. “As long as you want to live here.” 

Callie suddenly asks, clearly realizing just what this means. “I can paint my room?”

That’s one thing you also know she’s always wanted to do, to paint the bland white walls of her room back at your place. 

Now though….now she can. 

“You can draw on the walls in your room for all I care, baby girl. It’s your room.” He would be that dad, the dad that lets his kid do whatever they want with their space, because it’s their space. 

If only you were that mom.

“Uhh, Joe—”

“And get a puppy!” Your eyes go wide at this. This child really is not taking you seriously, but you’re especially floored when Joe’s ass whispers to her something about talking to you about it.

It’s when Callie starts to run around the backyard, happy and ecstatic, celebrating, that you warn him. 

“You think I’m playing, Joe. Get that lil girl a puppy, and I promise you, you gon be taking Toto on the road with you. She gon be at your side when you do your slow ass walk to the ring. I’m not taking care of no dog.” And you mean that. Callie can give him all the puppy dog eyes—no pun intended—she wants. She’s just not old enough yet.

Of course, Joe tries to sway you, suggesting, “it’ll teach her responsibility.”

A heavy sigh leaves your mouth as you observe Callie spinning in a circle. This child has the energy of the energizer bunny. “We already have one rambunctious child. Let’s just focus on her first, please?”

Your little family of three is more than enough.

It’s everything you need.

This, right here, right now, is all you need.

————

Joe told you he talked with Kaylah about being a bit of your tour guide and helping you and Callie to familiarize yourself with the area while he was gone, but he didn’t mention that Kaylah would literally be coming over that night.

It’s a surprise when you get a call from the front desk asking for permission to buzz Kaylah in, but you don’t hesitate to authorize it, especially when you overhear Ellie’s little voice in the background. 

You know Callie will be thrilled to see her cousin. 

And she definitely is, the two girls making more noise than probably what’s appropriate for an apartment, especially an upscale apartment. But, something tells you even if there is some type of noise complaint, Joe won’t hesitate to dead that shit.

“How are you doing? Really?” Kaylah asks as the two of you sit in Joe’s living room on the sofa as the girls play in the guest bedroom. The TV is on Smackdown, but Joe hasn’t made his appearance yet.

You promised Callie you’d call her when he got on screen, so it’s something you pay attention to.

“I can’t believe she would do that to you, and she was supposed to be your best friend?” Kaylah sounds rightfully disgusted. “You and Callie didn’t deserve that.”

“I have my baby back, so I’m much better now.” And it’s the truth. It’s almost night and day how having Callie back in your custody has completely changed your existence. You can actually bring yourself to do something other than cry, can actually experience emotions other than sadness, and most importantly, you can also keep food down.

There’s still some lingering nausea that you wish would just go away, but it’s tolerable. Much tolerable than the constant vomiting.

“I don’t blame you for wanting to leave that place. I don’t know if I could stay there either after that.”

“A part of me doesn’t want to go back now.” Even though you’ve only met Kaylah once, there’s something about her that’s comforting and easy to talk to. “I just….even now, it’s like I have this fear that they’re gonna take her from me as soon as I step foot off the plane.”

She reaches over and places her hand on top of yours. “That’s over with now. The judge dismissed everything. You’re okay, girl. Callie’s back home.”

Feeling the wetness on your face alerts you that those damn tears have returned. For someone who hates crying, you’ve sure been doing a lot of it. And you hate it. 

“Thank you, Kaylah.”

She gives you a warm nod and smile. “Oh!” Kaylah reaches over to her purse on the coffee table, digging around before she pulls out a folded piece of paper. “Here. You’ll need this.” Unfolding the paper, she explains, “it’s the info for the doctors and dentists Jon and I use for ourselves and the kids. Ellie especially loves Dr. Pyle. She’s super great with kids, and I absolutely adore my primary and OB-GYN. They’re both fabulous black women who actually listen when you have an issue.”

There’s so many things to consider when moving that it never even crossed your mind yet that you’d need to find a whole new slate of medical providers. Kaylah’s thoughtfulness is so appreciated. “Thank you. I should probably call tomorrow and get those appointments set up now.”

With everything you’ve been through this past week, it’s not a half bad idea to get a check up just to make sure everything is going good internally.

You add that to your to-do list for tomorrow. 

Maybe see the OB-GYN for your women’s wellness exam as well. You’re just about due anyway.

She nods. “Definitely, and I don’t know if you and Joe have talked about schools, but Ellie’s private school is really great.”

Private school….

You’d definitely thought about schools for Callie, but a private school wasn’t really an option as you were factoring in your financial capability. Now though….now that Joe is in the picture, you’re almost certain he would not only want Callie to be in private school vs public school, but he’d pay however much it cost to do so.

You’re not entirely opposed, interestingly enough. Especially since Callie is technically the kid of a celebrity, it might be a good move to keep her in a smaller, more private setting. 

“We haven’t, but I’m sure it's a discussion we’ll have.” You then remember. “Can you also give me the information for the dance academy Ellie goes to? I think I want to see about putting Callie in ballet.” It’s something she’s been wanting for a while, and accepting Joe’s financial generosity is becoming easier when you think about how it can benefit Callie. She deserves all of the happiness in the world.

And you’d much rather her do ballet than finesse her daddy into getting her a dog that’ll eventually be yours.

“Of course! We can actually swing by there tomorrow, so you can get a feel, if you want.” She offers, and it sounds like a great plan. Checking out the school with Joe is also something you make a mental note to discuss with him. Something tells you Kaylah is a good judge of character, but you need to check for yourself. This whole experience has made you that much more protective of your baby girl. “Joe also asked that I take you guys furniture shopping to start furnishing the house.”

At that, you groan and lean your head back against the sofa. “Girl, it’s gon take a minute to furnish that house. It’s so big.”

“It is, but it’s also so beautiful.” She leans closer to you, hand on your forearm. “And you don’t have to do everything at once, just like the master, Callie’s bedroom, the living room. You know, the main rooms.”

“Oh my goodness, I already know Joe is gonna’ have that girls room looking like a damn toy store.” He already mentioned something about knowing someone who does wall art and murals and reaching out to see if they could do a Disney mural in her bedroom. Not that you’re opposed to that. “He already spoils her. Now that we have this big ass house, I know it’s only going to get worse.”

Kaylah makes a sound and shrugs. “Let him. He loves her. He loves being a dad. Let him spoil her. Let him spoil you.”

“I love Joe for a lot of reasons that have nothing to do with his money. I don’t need him to spoil me financially. Other ways though….” Because of everything that’s happened the past week, you’ve had neither the mental or desire to be intimate with Joe. But with Callie returned to you and the litany of other positive things happening in your life, that sex drive is gradually building back up.

A small part of you is wishing that you’d gotten in a ‘quickie’ in the small space of 

‘Callie is sleeping’ time before you went to see the house. Granted, you also know that Joe isn’t a fan of quickies.

If he can’t have you for as long as he wants you, milking out at least 2 to 3 orgasms, he doesn’t want you at all. 

“Girl please, that man is like my brother. I don’t need the visuals.” She laughs, waving her hands in a “please shut up” manner. Giggling, you glance at the TV and see the blue lights flashing around the arena.

Sitting up and angling your body towards the back of the sofa, you make a sound when your chest presses against the cushion of the sofa. Your boobs have been weirdly tender too. Ignoring one of many annoying things about being a woman, you shout out, “Callie Bear! Daddy’s on TV!”

Callie runs in there faster than Usain Bolt, Ellie not too far behind. The girls plop on the living room floor, Callie’s eyes glued to the TV, not wanting to miss a second of it.

Your attention is also glued to the TV, but also elsewhere, even as your fine ass man talks his shit while looking so good doing so. 

You’ve learned a lot in the past week, been through a lot, but one of the major takeaways has been the importance of community. Of family. Alexis has transcended past best friend territory. A best friend doesn’t do what she did, doesn’t take the heat, even if she won’t feel said heat, the way that she did for you.

That’s something a sister would do. 

And while your heart swells at the notion of considering and seeing her as such, having that important conversation with her about what you want her to be in your life moving forward,, it’s also triggered another train of thought.

With change, comes friction, and while that friction can be uncomfortable, it can lead to something beautiful.

Look at you and Joe. Where you started, and where you are now. If you had to, you’d do it all again. It’s just all so worth it. 

So, you decide to pull out your phone as Callie goes crazy seeing Dwayne aka “cousin Maui!” appear on the screen and scroll to your earlier messages. Your thumb hovers over that thread, and there’s a brief moment of hesitation before you decide to power over fear and type out a message

You: hi, simone. sorry for the delayed response, a lot has happened….  but you’re right. it can end with us. when’s a good time to call you? better yet, can we meet up?

You don’t even bother proofreading it before hitting send, not trusting yourself not to back out.

To say you feel 100% confident with your decision would be an absolute lie. You’re still wary about moving forward, but you owe it to yourself, and Callie, to try. From now on, you only want and need people in your life who want and deserve to be there.

And if…..and if your sister is included in that list, then you owe it to yourself to at least see what happens there.

This is a new season of your life, and you intend to embrace it for all it brings.

[sorrowsofsilence]

echo of my shadow • ns

pairing: noah sebastian!ghost x fem!reader

words: 1.7k

warnings: implied death, not necessarily 18+ but implied smut (fem!masturbation w/ mention of orgasm), mention of afterlife / paranormal existence

summary: his soul was lost, bound to find yours again in this life…and in every lifetime to come.

authors note: one of my fav movies is Just Like Heaven, and this was kinda inspired by that- and by auroras song Echo of My Shadow. I’d have to say this is probably one of my most emotional pieces other than “desolate love”, and I’m so proud of how it turned out. The “cover” pic is inspired by @veronicaphoenix s layout! (I adore how you present your work!)

“If I stay here any longer, I will stay here forever And the echo of my world will fade Will the edge of my sorrow be gone in the morning?”

Seasons changed and the years moved on, yet he remained the same.

Noah never knew why he stayed. Perhaps it was heartbreak, the loss of his love that restrained him; years dedicated to the mourning of his first and only devotion.

And as he wandered the earth he never knew what he was meant to find, until he saw you, the oak bench you sat upon withered with age.

At that moment his world stilled as his feet stopped carrying him across the gravel, the air around him stagnant as though the clock finally stopped, after all this time.

The sun was warm against your skin as the pencil scribbled across the page of your notebook. The dream was always the same, and reality faded as thoughts floated to the scene that had bothered you for months.

You sat along the river, waiting, and once his eyes met your own, the smile he gifted you made everything disappear- everything except him.

You swore he was a stranger, someone you never met before; but with each subconscious greeting he felt familiar, like a blanket being wrapped around you as you basked by a window, enthralled with the nostalgia of a thunderstorm.

It was as if his memories were being woven into an intricate tapestry, placed in your mind for his narrative to shine, ready to entangle with your own.

His voice was the only whisper evident in your realm of sleep.

As time passed the memories began to consume you, blurring the lines between reality and fiction; the image of him surrounding you even when awake.

These dreams carried on for months, and everything felt like it led up to this moment as you finally sat in the place that beckoned your name.

If he wasn’t here, perhaps you lived in a world of delusion, fated to fall into an abyss of lost vitality.

How would one mourn the loss of a dream?

As your pencil took over you let yourself rewrite his stories, the presence of him stronger with each stroke.

Noah stood further ahead on the path, a slight breeze inviting him closer, causing his long brunette hair to sway as his heart raced, knowing that pieces of himself were amongst the words you wrote.

He tried not to smile as you jot down the remembrance of him from your subconscious, watching as your leg bounced in concentration, fingers rising to tuck your hair behind your ear.

After all these years he thought you were gone. That his eyes would never find yours again.

With each step his soul yearned harder for yours, legs carrying him down the path.

He then stopped, mind rushing: what if you didn’t want him? What if you didn’t love him the way he had always loved you?

And as he stood there, vulnerable and afraid, you closed the notebook.

Shivers ran down your spine despite the sun that graced your skin, and your heart began to pound. His presence engulfed you as you pulled the book to your chest.

There was no one else in this world that could make you this nervous, it had to be him.

So, was he real?

Noah’s ears echoed as he watched you suck in a breath, leg bouncing faster as seconds passed.

Should he say something? Should he just walk away?

But then your head turned and your gaze met him, his October eyes staring into your spirit with longing.

He had been a soul with no home until he found you.

As he smiled with awe you couldn’t help but let one fall upon your lips in mimicry, the anxiety you once had leaving, replaced by the manifestation of him.

“If my life is just a moment and this world is ancient Then the light through my window will fade Young mountains, old rivers, I let them become me Right now”

Your skin grew cold as he stepped closer, and he hesitated to sit beside you for a moment before joining you on the bench.

Your eyes never left his, afraid he would disappear if you looked away.

He smiled again, and you melted, immersed in the world he had to offer.

Noah’s gaze was fixated as his eyes danced across your face, entranced, “You’re here.”

He knew you were in a different body, but you were the same soul that once encaptured his own; his very being devoted to you in every single life, until the day he perishes completely.

And although he was bound to this earth, the mere idea of you existing once again eased his racing mind, memories of the past leaving him something he hadn’t felt in a long time…hope.

“You’re not just a figment of my imagination,” You laughed quietly, almost reassuring yourself as it took everything in him to not reach for your hand, afraid to scare you away.

Noah shook his head and you studied his brunette locks, immersed in how they flowed and caressed the sides of his face. Your eyes trailed across his tattoos which had faded due to time, and somehow in the back of your mind, you remembered the stories of what each one meant.

You relaxed as he lingered next to you, his presence innately familiar and comforting. You recognized the way his hands rested on his thighs and the way his inked fingers brushed his hair away from his cheeks.

Your eyebrows narrowed in contemplation as if you’ve lived this moment before, not just in a dream. The Deja Vu made you feel like you’ve known this man for years- as if you’ve spent countless hours with him.

“Stay right here, stay in the light, my dear Until the love you crave falls in your arms, ooh I know your mind moves like a wave sometimes If you can't rise for us, do it for love”

You wanted nothing more than to wrap your arms around his torso, head pressed against his chest while he whispered delicate words into your ear.

It was the soul’s recognition of past connection.

“I’ve spent years searching for you,” Noah whispered, leaning toward you for a moment before pulling himself away, hesitating.

His words warmed your heart, the intimacy behind them a testimonial memoir to what once was.

“What makes me so special?” You asked, harboured by doubts at the stranger’s confession. How did he know you this whole time?

How have you not known him?

“You won’t remember,” He said thoughtfully, turning his gaze away from you for just a moment, staring at the water ahead, “Until I show you.”

The two of you watched the river carve through the sediment, years of memories washing along the path it created. Its song mirrored the echo of your love, entranced in the shadows your body created against the soil beneath you.

“I’ve dreamed of you,” the soft words left your lips as you pulled the notebook from your chest, resting its pages on your lap. Your thumb brushed along the suede cover, tempted to expose its secrets to the man next to you; but he already knew what was written.

“I know,” He replied, turning to watch you with admiration, “You called me here.”

Shaking your head you laughed, “But how? You were the one haunting my mind.”

“Your soul was finally ready.”

Noah was radiant, his skin almost glowing from the sun that shone above. He was here, and every other worry and thought left your mind, captivated by him.

You opened the notebook, showing him the pages of your words.

“You’re Noah,” You breathed, and he bit back a smile, beaming as his name fell off your tongue with an elegance no one but you could muster.

“And you’re Y/N,” he whispered, another cool breeze running down your neck as he breathed your name into the air.

⊹˚.

They were inseparable, as Noah got to know who she was in this life. He learned everything about her new being, who she became, and who she will continue to become.

But as the clock continued, the world was ready to let go of him.

He knew it would be time to go.

She stood in the mirror, her lover standing behind her. And when her soul begged for the stories of their past, he grew the courage to finally touch her, arms wrapping around in armoured protection.

Her body cooled, hands reaching up to hold his apparition as his touch passed the memories of them into her heart.

She loved him, then and now; always and forever.

How will she spend the rest of this lifetime without him?

“Promise me you won’t disappear,” She cried, staring at their reflection with the sorrows of silence embellishing her.

He leaned into her, caressing her earthly body as tears for him fell.

“If I stay here any longer, I will stay here forever Till the echo of my shadow is gone”

Noah promised her he would love her again. He would search for her in every world and every spec of existence he is to be in, just as he had finally done now.

As they laid upon her satin sheets she closed her eyes, his lips ghosting against hers in fated promises. His body sunk further into hers, possessing her being with his eulogy of confession.

Tenderness as sweet as honey, passion as strong as his dedication to her. Everything.

Her fingers danced down her skin, guided by his shadow as she pleasured herself. The breath of his touch against her desire made bumps adorn her skin, the chill from his distant lips gravitating their love.

Noah whispered to her that he would find her when this life came to an end.

“There are heroes within us, there are lovers around us They will be here forever, I know I know, I know”

She reached for him as her body clenched from intimacy, climax approaching as her chest heaved from his memory.

And as he began to fade away she smiled at him: a smile of pain and grief; of fortune and faith.

He would be there, waiting for her on the other side when the time came for them to live together once again.

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