#but its going to all come to a head tomorrow my part is supposed to finally come in. and i do my t-shot when i warm up tomorrow

[yoshistory]

if i took a shower had a change of clothes took my T shot and ate a sandwich i would be a new man rn

[pellucid-constellations]

Fable - Before

Pairing: Azriel x Reader

Summary: Being in love with Azriel wasn���t hard; you’d been doing it for over 400 years. But things were changing, and soon, you would be changed. 

Word count: 2k

Warnings: Angst, pining

a/n: This is part of a mini-series but each part can be read on its own/out of order. I know I'm like attacking everyone with this random fic I just started but it's getting my writing muse going and it's exciting!! Enjoy :)

Series Masterlist (all parts ♡)

~~

“Do you think that’s the best idea, Az?” you promoted, cringing a bit as you hid your face in the racks of clothing along the store’s edge. “I mean, Rhys seemed pretty adamant that you… I don’t know—not pursue her?”

Azriel tsked, pressing his hand to the middle of your back as he passed behind you. You turned your wings in. “Rhys doesn’t understand. He only understands the pull of the mating bond and nothing else. But Elain doesn’t want Lucien, I’m sure of it.” 

Something twisted in your gut. “Okay, I believe you. But what if—” 

“Please, y/n, something else now. My failure of a love life must bore you.” 

You bit into your lip as you contemplated ignoring his request. He had done nothing but speak of Elain since you started your outing this evening, but the moment you questioned the feasibility of his plans, the topic was suddenly moot. 

“I was just going to ask,” you broached, turning from the clothes to face the shadowsinger. A necklace display enthralled him. “What if you found your mate? What then?” 

Azriel broke his gaze with the jewels. “That wouldn’t matter. This is different, y/n. You must see that. Three sisters for three brothers. It’s as if it’s a test of fate.” 

“Right,” you nodded, fighting off the urge to throw up or scream. “Destiny, maybe.” 

Azriel’s responding grin did little to soothe you. “Exactly. I knew you would understand. You’ve always understood me.” 

You offered a weak smile, biting the inside of your cheek as he ushered you out of the store with a gentle hand on your shoulder. 

This was getting more and more difficult to tamp down. 

When Azriel first became enamored by Elain, you thought it temporary. He had been chasing after Mor for so long; that wouldn’t be trumped by a woman he just met. And you were used to the way he pined for Mor. It hurt, but it was familiar. 

Azriel never seemed to think he had a real chance with her. 

But with Elain—with Elain, he figured he had a fighting chance. He saw the success of his brothers and felt that this was his chance at happiness. He never looked at you the way he looked at her, and he had had so many opportunities to do so. 

He never spoke of you the way he spoke of her. 

This hurt more than it did with Mor.

But still, Azriel was your family, so you pretended that it didn’t. You sat back and listened as he spoke of his grand plans to court her and sneak past Rhysand. You tried your best to provide good input and smiled when you were supposed to. 

You loved him from afar. 

He loved you differently. 

It wasn’t his fault.

“Did Rhys ever say what he wanted to talk to you about?” Azriel asked after a short stint of silence, the sounds of your steps along the streets of Velaris rhythmic and soothing. 

You blinked and focused your attention back on Azriel. “Oh, um, some mission at the camps I think.” 

“Anything big?” 

“I don’t think so. A little unrest but I think he just wants me to make sure the women are training.” 

“Need me to come?” 

“I would, but I leave tomorrow night. Isn’t that when you—you know…” 

Azriel sucked in a breath through his teeth. “Oh, that’s right.” He tilted his head to the side, weighing his internal conflict. “I could try to move some things around. Elain could—” 

“No, Az, it’s fine,” you interrupted, trying to forget about the times he would restructure his entire schedule to accommodate you. “You have to be diligent with the times you see her. I can see if Cass can come with me.” 

“Are you sure?” he posed, the question twisting his brow. 

You looked up at him, examining each tell on his face. You’d known him so long you were sure you would never forget his face—never scrub your mind of the intricacies that told you of each emotion he felt. 

Many claimed that Azriel was hard to read. As a Spymaster, that was the goal. But you saw through it all. You’d seen him as a boy and you saw him now. 

There was something unfamiliar on his face as you looked at him now. 

“You really like her, don’t you?” The words hurt as they came out. 

Azriel breathed through a smile. 

“I like my chances this time.” He curled his finger beneath your chin in a playful tap. 

That sounded the same. 

~~

“You sure you don’t want me to come, sweetheart?” Cassian asked for the fourth time, the table between you filled with a plethora of distractions that you were all too grateful for. 

You darted your gaze to the side, eager to ensure that Azriel hadn’t heard the loudmouth in front of you. “Yes, Cass. Now quit it. I got it, okay?” 

Cassian sent the pair at the end of the table a perfunctory, almost irritated glance. “It’s a pretty hostile camp you’re headed into. I feel like you should bring backup.” 

“And I feel like you have four other camps to go to today. And a pregnant mate to tend to, no?” 

“Nesta would sooner bash me over the head with her books than let me coddle her. I’ve tried.”

“Well, just… linger around her, I don’t know. Just know that I’m fine and don’t need a babysitter.” 

From the other end of the table, Elain giggled, the sound light and airy. You snuck a glance out of the corner of your eye to find the shadows along the table retreating to the floor. A few had begun to creep towards you, but you shooed them away with a flick of your foot, wanting to keep the conversation away from Azriel’s ears. 

They listened to you—for the most part. 500 years of pestering them made them give a little. 

“Az can’t come?” Cassian asked, his mouth half filled with roasted potato. “He’s not on anything this week.” 

You raised your brow and stared back at the sheepish look the general offered, waiting for him to chew his breakfast before you replied. “He can’t. Spy business.” 

“Spy business.” Cassian deadpanned.

“Uh-huh.” 

Cassian’s skeptical look rivaled your chastising one. “This doesn’t need to go like this and you know that.” 

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.” 

“Right. I’ve only known you since we were twelve but I’m going to pretend that you aren’t covering for the one person you—” 

“Cassian.” 

“I don’t want to see you hurt.” 

“Why would she be getting hurt?” Azriel spoke up, his head finally turned from his near-permanent gaze on Elain. 

“I wouldn’t,” you cut in, speaking over the beginning of Cassian’s sentence. “You know how Cassian is, always worrying too much.”

“Is there something to worry about?” Elain asked, looking between the members of the table, her question sweet and ironic coming from her mouth. 

“No—” 

“Yes.” 

“No, there isn’t” you gritted out, throwing Cassian a look. The smile you sent to Elain took effort. “I’m just going on a routine mission, but you know how Illyrians are—overprotective to a fault.” 

Elain nodded and blushed with a soft gleam in her eye, and, Gods, you were reminded why you’d stopped eating breakfast at the House. You bit the inside of your cheek to fight the swell in your throat. 

“I thought Cassian was going to go with you,” Azriel questioned. “You said he could.” 

Cauldron, you really should have taken breakfast in your room. 

You tore your gaze from Elain’s shy expression and blinked at Azriel. He was sat up straighter, brows shot upwards in an accusatory fashion that made you feel that you were in trouble. When you took a moment to respond, he tilted his chin forward, ready to catch you in a lie. 

And you were an awful liar. 

When you were thirty, Azriel had to teach you how to lie to help stave away the men that came with emerging adulthood. That had been mortifying for many reasons, but mainly because he was having you lie about being his mate. Your feelings had become complicated around that time and Azriel did not seem to share the sentiment. 

But you could lie about this with ease. You had become a practiced liar over the years—when it came to hiding your feelings. 

“I-I got an update from Rhys. He said the camp is more settled. I’m only going to watch from afar. They won’t even know I’m there.” 

A lie—a fat lie. But Azriel should be happy. He should pursue Elain as he wanted. You shouldn't get in the way. You needed to get away from them, actually. 

You needed the space. 

You felt Cassian’s disappointed stare on the side of your face but ignored the hole it was burning into your skin. 

“He didn’t inform me of that,” Azriel muttered. He looked to Elain—sweet Elain with her soft eyes and gentle features—and contemplated his night once again. “I think I should come with you. Reports could be conflicting or fabricated.” 

And the way Elain deflated made you press your lips together in a line. Azriel sent her an apologetic, downturned smile and you gathered that he was apologizing for you. You would always be an apology for him, a responsibility. 

Your foot had been shaking under the table without you noticing it, but the moment Azriel’s eyes wandered to Elain, the motion abruptly stopped. You gathered your resolve, sent Cassian another warning glance, and looked back to the man who never saw you. 

“I don’t want you to come, Azriel. I’m bringing Lucien.” 

A low blow, but not one that was uncalled for. 

It had the effect you were hoping for, with both Azriel and Elain sending shocked expressions your way, the former affronted and the latter looking lost. 

“Lucien?” Azriel parroted. 

“Yes,”  you confirmed, taking a causal sip from the cup before you. “Rhys thought it would be good for him to see more than just Velaris and the mortal lands. I’m picking him up before I leave.” 

“And you think he would protect you if the Illyrians went rouge?” Azriel’s tone was bordering on aggressive, his question pointed towards Cassian. 

“The Illyrians are always rouge, Az. That’s kind of the point of all this,” you joked, but the joke didn’t land.

Tension at the table remained. Cassian wasn’t saying anything, his arms crossed and his eyes locked on yours. Your foot started shaking again. Elain, of all people, was the first one to speak. 

“Lucien would protect her,” she nodded, pushing her food around her plate. “He would. He’s… a good male.” 

That altered Azriel’s train of thought very evidently if one were able to pick apart the soft widening of his eyes and the slight twitch of his mouth. All things you caught so easily. 

All things that led him to agree that you should go with Lucien. All tells that made him refocus his attention on Elain and ignore the shallow breaths you let out when you lied.

Because you would be fine with Lucien. Maybe if you went with Lucien, one of Azriel’s suspected obstacles would be removed. Maybe Lucien would start to want you the same way he wanted Elain. 

Only, Lucien wasn’t going with you, and there would never be a time that a conversation like this would happen again. 

A different obstacle, for a different time. 

[roosterforme]

Aim for the Sky Part 11 | Rooster x Reader

Summary: Bradley is determined to take care of everything so you can take take care of Rose. A visit to your doctor answers a lot of questions, and Bradley is hoping he can still give you the babymoon that he promised.

Warnings: Angst, injury, potential pregnancy complications, fluff, smut

Length: 4200 words

Pairing: Bradley "Rooster" Bradshaw x Female Reader

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

Bradley had you eating three square meals a day all weekend long. He spent more time talking to your mom than you did, and she helped him cook while you took little naps. Any time food was mentioned, in any capacity, he got you involved.

"Cam and Maria want to know if I'm interested in going out for a belated birthday brunch since I'm feeling a bit better," you told him as you read your texts on Sunday morning.

"Tell them yes," Bradley replied where he was still in bed next to you with his head on your shoulder and his eyes closed. "But I'll drop you off and pick you up." His rough fingers tracing an intricate pattern along your skin from your belly up to your breasts, and you knew better than to argue with him.

"Okay," you murmured as he kissed along the side of your breast. He'd been touching you nonstop since he brought you home from the hospital. If you were awake, his body was in contact with yours, and his hands were on your belly. And when you slept, he seemed to miraculously clean the house and walk Tramp and make edible food. But while he'd been touching you constantly, he didn't initiate sex, and neither did you.

Truthfully, your hand was still aching a bit, and every time you felt Rose move, you silently rejoiced. Your body was sore, and you just kept wanting to go back to sleep. You found yourself stifling yawn after yawn, and you knew Bradley had noticed by the way he kept ushering you back to bed. Of course he would be very gentle with you, but right now, you didn't need anything more than what he was giving you.

Quickly, you finished texting Cam and Maria, then you tossed your phone aside. When you rolled Bradley onto his back, he was smiling as he whispered, "How's my Nugget?" while he played with your necklace charms.

Your visit to the emergency room after you fell at work had been terrifying, but having Bradley around always made you feel stronger. "Why don't you ask her yourself?"

With those words, you were on your back once again, and Bradley's lips were skimming along your belly. "Hey, Rosie. You having fun in there?" He grinned and glanced up at you, letting his mustache tickle your skin as he said, "Daddy would love to be inside Mommy, too."

You snorted in response, something stirring the way it always did when Bradley's big, brown eyes were focused on you. "I mean... I don't have to be at brunch until eleven."

His biceps were on display along with his messy hair, and you were never going to stop wanting him. But he was shaking his head slowly as he told you, "I'm in no rush to make that happen. Let's see what Dr. Morris says tomorrow. You're supposed to be taking it easy, and so is Rose."

"You're right," you agreed, still biting your lip as the sensation of Bradley's mouth on your body.

"I love you," he whispered against your belly before hovering over your body to kiss your lips. "And I love you, Sweetheart. And you're never allowed to scare me again."

When he eventually drove you to brunch, he refused to just drop you off and come back. Instead, he walked you inside, his big hand wrapped around yours, and took you all the way to the table where Cam and Maria were waiting. 

"Hey," he greeted your friends, yanking his aviators down his nose as he wrapped his arm around you. "She's supposed to be eating plenty of healthy foods rich with nutrients and vitamins. Can the two of you be responsible for what she orders?"

"Roo," you whined, rolling your eyes, but your friends just nodded up at your husband.

"Yes," they recited in unison.

"Excellent," Bradley replied, largely ignoring your complaints as he added, "And you'll make sure she drinks at least three glasses of water?"

"Yes," they repeated.

"Perfect," he muttered, leaning in to give you a kiss while his hand slid down your belly. "Text me when you want me to come get you, Sweetheart."

As he walked away, you sighed, but both of your friends had their eyes glued to him. "Damn," Maria said as you took the seat across from her. "He means business."

Cam bit his knuckle before he picked up the menu as if he didn't already know what he was going to order. "You're so fucking lucky you have such a bossy husband," he complained. "And one with a mustache. If I didn't like you so much, I would hate you."

You watched Bradley's broad back as he exited the restaurant and headed toward the red Bronco, pushing his sunglasses into place as he went. "I would probably hate me, too," you murmured, picking up your first of three glasses of water and taking a long sip.

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

Bradley ran around with his checklist on Monday morning so he didn't forget anything. You mom taught him how to make overnight oatmeal in the slow cooker, which seemed to be the only kitchen appliance that he was able to master on the first try. He fucking loved that thing; you just tossed food into it, and it turned into a meal like magic. He vaguely remembered his mom having one, which just made it even better.

Every time he thought about his parents, he had to stop and catch his breath. His desire to do this right was overwhelming. After you fell at work, he knew there was no margin for error. He filled up a cup with water and carried it back to the bedroom where he hoped you were still asleep, but you weren't even there.

"Baby Girl?" he called out, but then he heard the toilet flush and the sink run before you shuffled back in from the bathroom.

"You're making me drink too much water," you grumbled as he ushered you back to bed. "I can't stop peeing."

He set the new cup down and picked up the used one. "Just humor me, please. I'll come back to pick you up at 11:45 to take you to Dr. Morris. I'll feel a lot better after she examines the two of you, and I have a list of seventeen questions for her."

You looked at him like he was joking. He wasn't. "Mmkay, Roo. Come back and get me later," you said, kissing his lips before climbing back into bed. 

When he got to base, everyone was asking about you."She's at home resting," he assured Nat. "She's sore and tired, but the baby is moving around a bunch. I'm taking them to get checked out again at lunchtime today. Oh, and thanks for getting groceries for me. And driving me to the emergency room. And making sure I didn't have a full nervous breakdown."

Nat gave him a big hug. "Literally what I'm here for, Soul Sister. Just keep me in mind when nominations come out for godparents," she told him with a wink.

"Huh," he grunted, because he hadn't even thought about that. If he had to choose someone, he would probably want it to be Nat, but he didn't know where you stood on the topic, so he didn't say another word about it. When he had to get in his Super Hornet and take off, his mind shifted back to Friday, and a flash of panic went through his body as his wheels left the runway. 

"Rooster, do you copy?" He realized Maverick had asked him something, but he had no idea what. All he could picture was your tear streaked face as you lay in the hospital bed shivering.

"Say again?" he asked, hand gripping the throttle as he tried to focus. He should have used a vacation day, but he was trying to save them up for after the baby was born. He was kind of terrified that you'd have to go out on medical leave, and he knew he wasn't going to feel better about any of this until he heard from Dr. Morris.

"Meet Payback at the rendezvous point," Maverick repeated, and Bradley pushed his nervous energy to the side. How much trouble could you get into at home with Tramp anyway?

The answer was apparently a lot. When he walked in the door to pick you up for your appointment, he headed for the bedroom only to find you sitting on the floor of the baby's nursery with the dog next to you. "What are you doing?" he asked with a sigh. "You were supposed to be resting all morning."

"Relax," you told him, holding up your hands in surrender. "I got bored, so I just started sorting the baby clothes."

He cradled his forehead in his hand. "Baby Girl. You're killing me. Tell me you at least ate lunch? And drank enough water?"

"Three glasses of water," you replied, holding up three fingers and nodding. "And a peanut butter and hot sauce and jelly sandwich. And carrot sticks dipped in ketchup."

Bradley wanted to gag just thinking about it, but he supposed that was actually pretty good for you. "Excellent," he replied, reaching down to help you stand up. "We need to get going. Now."

"Oh," you whispered, kissing his cheek once you were on your feet. "You're really hot when you're being bossy."

Bradley sighed and let his head tip back as you ran your hand down the front of his flight suit. "If, and only if, Dr. Morris says having sex is okay, I could get real bossy with you later if you give me an attitude about eating your dinner."

You squeaked in delight and practically ran out of the room. "Let's get going," you called over your shoulder. "The sooner we ask, the sooner we can potentially fuck."

Bradley grabbed a water bottle from the refrigerator on his way to help you put your shoes on, and he was trying not to laugh the entire time. "Drink this," he told you before tying your shoes. Then he kissed you hard before leading you out to the red Bronco.

Once he backed out of the driveway, you reached for his hand. Bradley drove with the radio playing softly, and eventually you squeezed his fingers and admitted, "I am a little nervous though."

So was he, but he wasn't going to tell you that. "We'll figure it out. You don't have to worry about it alone."

He held your hand in the waiting room, and he had his arm wrapped around you when the nurse called you back to be examined. They took about a million samples from you before you were allowed to get cozy on the exam table with him sitting by your side, gently rubbing your left hand without touching your stitches. He was just thinking about what he was going to cook for dinner when Dr. Morris finally walked in.

"It sounds like you had a bit of a scare on Friday," she remarked, carrying your chart in her hand.

"Yes," you said sheepishly. "It was really scary."

"Well," she sighed, taking a seat with a smile, "let's take a look."

You were gripping Bradley's hand as Dr. Morris got the ultrasound equipment ready, and a few seconds later, Rose was squirming around on the huge monitor. "She got so big," he gasped. "Sweetheart, look at her!"

"I see her, Roo."

Dr. Morris looked completely calm, but Bradley asked, "Is she okay? After the fall?"

"She's just fine. Heartbeat is good. She's nice and strong."

"Excellent," he replied while you laughed in relief.

"However," Dr. Morris added, making his heart skip a beat, "we do need to talk about preeclampsia."

Your face fell when Bradley looked at you. "I have preeclampsia?" you asked softly.

Your doctor nodded. "A mild case, but yes. The baby looks fantastic, but I'm going to need you to monitor your blood pressure daily at home. And I have a list of foods you should eat as well as ones to avoid. And you need to eat and drink regularly so you don't faint again."

"Am I allowed to go back to work?" you asked.

"Yes. With the promise that you won't overdo it. And if you start to feel light headed, you need to sit down immediately and call me."

"Right," you agreed. "And is it safe to fuck my husband?"

"Sweetheart," Bradley groaned, resting his forehead against your arm in embarrassment.

"What?" you asked while Dr. Morris chuckled. "You wanted to know, too!"

Bradley shook his head as your doctor had mercy on him and said, "You can absolutely have sex with your husband as long as it's not causing you stress or raising your blood pressure too much. Monitor it. Keep an eye on it."

"Right," you agreed again, giving Bradley side eye as he pulled a sheet of paper out of his pocket.

"I have a few more questions for you, Dr. Morris. If you don't mind." He cleared his throat and started to read his seventeen questions, nodding at each answer until he got to his last one. "And how about a babymoon vacation? Is that something we can do?"

"I don't see why not," she said with a smirk. "Assuming your blood pressure doesn't get too high, and as long as you go in the next few weeks if air travel is involved. You're only ten weeks or so from your due date."

Well, that certainly put things into perspective for Bradley. He had a few ideas of where he wanted to take you, but now he was going to have to plan quickly and try to get some days off from work. 

"Do you think I should change into my maternity tent and go to work for the afternoon?" you asked as he led you out of the appointment.

"Absolutely fucking not," he replied, feeling much better but still wanting you to rest a little more. "I'm going to take you back home where you will relax and eat a healthy snack, and then I'll come home and make dinner."

You looked up at him in awe. "Those are words I legitimately never thought I would hear you say unironically."

"Get used to them," he murmured, leaning down to kiss you before you climbed into the Bronco. "And you better not give me an attitude about it, or else I could end up getting really bossy." He clicked your seatbelt into place with a grin as you clapped your hands.

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

"You made spaghetti?" you asked, arms crossed over your chest.

"Yes," Bradley replied easily where he stood in the kitchen hours later wearing your I Love Meat apron and holding a slotted spoon. "Is there a problem with that?"

"Yeah. I'm not eating it. I don't want spaghetti."

"Hmm," Bradley hummed, carefully setting down the spoon and turning off the stove burner. "It sounds like you're giving me an attitude."

You had to squeeze your thighs together, already so turned on as he closed the distance to you while you said, "Maybe I am." You jutted your chin out at him and added, "What are you going to do about it?"

His gaze dipped down from your face to your breasts which were practically spilling out of your stretchy tank top. He had an erection which you could clearly see through his gym shorts and the apron. "I'm going to give you an attitude adjustment," he growled, pulling you closer to him. "And then you're going to eat the fucking dinner that I made for you without complaining."

You were already panting for him, so excited over this little roleplay exercise, but you squealed in surprise when he yanked your top clear off and and immediately got handsy. His thumbs were rough on your nipples as he stroked them and pressed your breasts together. Then he let his right hand slide down your backside where he gave you one soft swat and barked, "Hands on the counter."

You did as you were told, already rolling your hips as he stood behind you and yanked your shorts and underwear down. "Bradley," you whined when you saw the apron fall to the floor at your feet, and a second later, he was pushing his cock inside your pussy as you bent a little more.

He planted his hands on the counter next to both of yours, and he ran his thumb gently along the spot near your stitches as he pushed himself deep. You felt his mustache on your ear as he whispered, "Make sure you relax. No high blood pressure for you, Sweetheart. I love you." Then he started fucking you nice and hard as he growled, "You've had a bad attitude all day. You know that? It's about time I fucked it out of you."

"Oh god!" you moaned in excitement. "Please do, Daddy."

He went hard, alternating between talking sweet and scolding you for being bad. "You're so damn hot, I can barely stand it," he crooned. "You'll eat the fucking dinner I made, and you'll say thank you," he grunted, getting you more and more worked up as you gripped at the countertop. "You gonna eat the spaghetti?" he asked, fingers dipping below your belly to find your clit. "Huh?"

"Yes!" you shouted, eyes fluttering closed as he stroked you in slow circles that got faster and tighter. "Yes!"

Bradley's lips were pressed to the sensitive spot behind your ear, and you were treated to the deep, guttural sounds he made as his hips slapped against your butt. "Come on, Baby Girl. Come on." As soon as you felt that first perfect clench of your ograsm, he was coming too. "That's it," he groaned. "That's a good girl."

You were still bumping your body back against his, coming down from your high, when he wrapped both hands around to your belly and asked, "You feel okay? The Nugget's okay?"

"So good," you gasped, finally pulling your hands away from the counter. "Perfect."

You spun in his arms with a smile on your face, and your belly bumped his abs. His cheeks were all flushed, and he looked a little tired, but he was smiling as his cum dripped down your thighs. "You hungry for the spaghetti?" he asked, stroking your cheek with his fingers.

"Starving," you replied, finally sated.

Two minutes later, you were sitting on Bradley's lap at the dining room table with one huge plate of spaghetti and two glasses of water. "I can't believe you made this. It smells incredible, Roo," you praised. 

"Your mom helped a lot," he replied, but you could hear the pride in his voice. "Did you know you're supposed to add salt to the water before you cook pasta?"

You tried not to laugh as you twirled spaghetti onto your fork and took a bite. "This is delicious. And yes, I did know that."

"Is that why it always tasted so much better when you made it? I never did that before today."

God, you loved him so much, it was ridiculous. You'd been cooking for the two of you for years now, but he stepped out of his comfort zone as soon as you fell at work, knowing you couldn't keep doing all of this by yourself. Instead of answering his question, you said, "I could never love anyone else as much as I love you."

"Same," he replied easily. "It's just you and Rosie for me. That's why I spent my afternoon planning out the perfect babymoon."

"You did?" you asked, turning to look at him over your shoulder.

"Keep eating, and I'll tell you more," he promised, nudging your shoulder before taking a bite for himself. 

Once you were eating again, he said, "As long as you can get a few days off at the end of the month, I want to take you somewhere that is plentiful with hot sauce."

"Del Mar?" you asked, thinking of the hot sauce restaurant and the reservation you missed on your birthday.

He gave you a bland look. "Come on, even I can do better than that."

"I don't know," you said with a laugh, and he nudged you again to take another forkful.

"Beautiful beaches. Spicy food. And a hot sauce making workshop," he whispered, and you nearly dropped your fork.

"You and Jake didn't try to make hot sauce again, did you?" When you thought about the disgusting bottle of spicy vinegar your husband brought home as a treat, you almost wanted to cry. "Please tell me no."

"Sweetheart," he said with a laugh. "I'm talking about Mexico!"

"Oh!" you gasped in excitement.

He looked so pleased with himself as he said, "It's a short plane ride away. We'll just go for a few days. It'll be like our honeymoon in Hawaii all over again, but this time you'll be pregnant in your little red bikini with your rooster tattoo on display."

You bit your lip as his hand settled on your thigh. "You really thought this through."

"I did," he replied. "You wanted a babymoon, and Dr. Morris said it's okay, so you're getting a babymoon. Now let's finish eating so I can check your blood pressure and clean the kitchen."

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

The next few weeks of work were tedious. Your lab mates often treated you like you were made out of porcelain, about to fall over at the slightest inconvenience. Even Bickel got into a bit of a habit of going easy on you before you met with him to tell him you were eating and staying hydrated and could carry your normal workload.

"I'm going to get something to drink," Cat told you one day as you sat in front of your computer working some calculations in the software. "Do you want anything? Maybe a snack?"

"You don't have to be so nice to me right now," you replied. "In fact, please don't."

She scoffed. "Are you trying to insinuate that I'm usually mean to you or something?"

You looked at her with a raised eyebrow. "You're certainly never this nice. And I mean that in a good way. I think I got used to you being a bit rough around the edges most of the time, and I like it that way."

"Who took care of your wedding rings?" she asked. "And who helped you battle your morning sickness in Annapolis?"

"You did," you replied easily. "But you're never this sweet to anyone besides Jeremiah and Jake. The two loves of your life."

She was silent for a beat before she said, "I'll just get you some juice." She left the lab, and you smiled. Jake wanted to get married, but she was putting up a hell of a fight even as she was steadily paying down the debt her husband accrued while Jake paid for Jeremiah's daycare on base.

You groaned and rubbed your eyes as you yawned. Getting Rose on the waitlist for the daycare was something you kept forgetting to take care of, and it really needed to be done. You were leaving for Mexico in just a few days, but there were so many things you wanted to take care of first. Maybe you could ask Bradley to take care of this one agenda item, since he kept insisting your top priority was taking care of yourself. You could practically hear him tell you that the only person he trusted with the loves of his life was you.

By the time he met you in the parking garage at the end of the day, you were yawning nonstop. "Hey, I don't like that," he said right away, jogging the last bit to get to you. "You're really tired, Sweetheart."

"I am," you agreed. "But I ate a salad and an enormous bowl of soup for lunch, and I had two snacks today."

He kissed your forehead as he muttered, "Taking perfect care of my girls. I'll get you home and feed you dinner, and then we can start packing for our trip before you go to bed early. Oh, and I got the Nugget on the waitlist for daycare today."

"Bradley," you moaned, leaning into him. "You're the best husband. And like seriously, I don't even know how to deal with how fucking much that turns me on."

He kissed your forehead again and said, "Okay, we can definitely add sex to the agenda if we stop wasting time and head home immediately."

"I'll get undressed while you drive," you joked, playfully unbuttoning your horrible shirt while he buckled you in.

"Baby Girl, those massive tits could cause an accident," he warned before he groaned. "Holy shit, all I can think about is you wearing that little bikini with your belly and fucking gorgeous tits all over the place. Everyone is going to be looking at me next to you, knowing I got you like this." His hand rested on your bump, and he swallowed hard. "Knowing that's my baby."

"Seriously," you panted. "We need to get home now."

Bradley drove at a respectable speed and made you swear you would eat the dinner he made. Then when you got home, he checked your blood pressure and had you drink a glass of water. It was only at that point that he fucked you into the mattress, really rather lovingly, before he served you dinner.

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

Next up is the babymoon of her dreams. Then Natasha is planning a baby shower that will probably be a nightmare. Then it's time for the Nugget to make her grand entrance! Thanks for reading! Thanks @beyondthesefourwalls

PART 12

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[m00nkissedlover]

・｡sweet dreams 🍫

you've ordered: a chocolate raspberry tart! enjoy!

"need a little sweetness in my life~"

leona kingscholar x reader | word count: 848 words

summary: halloween night with leona! 🍫

warnings: a bit shorter than part 1, a little rushed. other than that, none! just fluffy fluff!!

note: this is a continuation/ part 2 of my previous leona fic, naps. and no, i'm not making his entire personality about napping. i just think cuddle/ nap fics w/ leona are rlly cute-

you had never seen leona being so clingy. ever. but ever since that day you comfortably napped with the beastman, he'd become almost entranced by you. it was almost as if he genuinely could not sleep unless you were in his arms. the others didn't know about this of course, he'd die of embarrassment.

it was finally the holiday the students and staff of nrc had spent weeks preparing for: halloween! everyone was dressed up in their best costumes and the smells of cinnamon and pumpkin filled the air. everyone was packed into mostro lounge, drinks and food items going around, laughter and lively chatter filling the air. everything was perfect. you were currently chatting with cater and kalim, talking about how professor crewel had given you guys a pop quiz yesterday despite the holiday the next day.

as you were chatting, you couldn't help but scan the crowd a few times looking for a certain lion. you could've sworn you saw him a while ago.

"y/n! there you are." you turned around, met by none other than ruggie, seeming a bit out of breath.

"it's leona again." you playfully rolled your eyes, excusing yourself from the conversation with cater and kalim.

you made your way down the halls of the savanaclaw dorms, the building rather quiet since most all of its students were attending the halloween bash. once you got to leona's door, you gave it a gentle rhythmic knock, one that leona could always pick up on. a gruff "enter" was heard through the door, and you stepped inside, closing the door behind you.

when you turned around again, you saw him: leona kingscholar laid out in his bed, costume and all. he didn't even have time to tell you to come over, you were already shuffling under the blankets and positioning his head in you lap.

"you didn't want to stay at the party?" you asked, gently running your fingers through his hair.

"too noisy, couldn't nap properly." his answer made you laugh, your finger reaching over to poke his cheek.

"it's a party, you're not supposed to nap." but the beastman was already dozing off in your lap, effectively trapping you.

"can't hear you, m' too busy dozing off." he teased, your fingers already braiding some strands of his hair. as you did so, you decided to eat some candy from your bag.

as the wrapper rustled from opening the candy, you could see leona's nose twitch. he sniffed at the air a bit, his eyes not even opening when he started to speak.

"what are you eating, herbivore?" you took a bite of your chocolate, glancing down at him.

"just some candy i got from mostro lounge. you want some?" leona opened his eyes as you held the sweet treat to his lips, a look of mild disgust forming on his face.

"no. and you shouldn't be eating so much either, you'll get sick."

"oh come on, try some! it's good, i promise." leona looked between you and the toothache in a wrapper, sighing reluctantly. he broke off a small piece, popping it into his mouth.

you swore you saw his eyes light up, but he tried to hide it. which failed as he kept asking for tastes as you pulled more candy out of your bag.

"you're gonna be the death of me, herbivore." he grumbled, reacting to the aftermath of eating a single sour gumdrop, of which you had already eaten five.

"how can you eat those? it's like eating sandpaper." "well, back home i eat them all the time."

"you're crazy." he said, reaching over and pinching your cheek.

"don't come crying to me tomorrow if your teeth start to hurt or if your stomach gives out on ya," leona teased, earning a look of mock annoyance from you.

"well, if i get sick, it'll be good for you. you can use it as an excuse to cuddle me more." you smiled cheekily, scooting a little closer to the lion man.

"hmm, is that so, herbivore?" he mumbled, a soft smirk on his lips as he wrapped his arms around you and pulled you into his lap.

you laughed softly, wrapping your arms around his neck and leaning up to press a soft kiss to his forehead.

"yes, i think a big, cuddly lion would make me feel better in no time~" you hummed, moving to kiss his cheek.

you could see the color in his cheeks, immediately teasing him about it, only to met by his constant refusal.

this was probably the best halloween you'd ever had. curled up with the person you loved, eating candy, chatting, and teasing one another. you rested your head on leona's chest, his strong arms wrapping around you. the sound of his heartbeat lulled you to sleep, just like that first day you'd napped with him.

then, he was just leona kingscholar, house warden of savanaclaw, the lazy lion man, the strongest junior at nrc. now he was your comfort person, cuddle buddy, and partner that you loved with all your heart. 🍫

© m00nkissedlover, 2024

[cryptidghostgirl]

Can I request a part 3 to "unrequited"?

A/N I honestly was not planning another part to this story. I'm just gonna... leave this here. (Pls don't hate me guys. This is so genuinely the only path I could think of for this story that I liked.)

Unrequited pt. 3 (Alastor x Reader)

Pairing: Alastor x Reader

Warnings: Um. Alastor is dark/yandere in this part. Uh. Unhealthy relationship. Yeah.

Word Count: 2,094

Previous Parts:

Unrequited (Alastor x Reader)

Unrequited Pt. 2

Master Lists:

Master Lists 

Hazbin Hotel Master List

Alastor had cornered her in the hall. The years, the games, the challenges, none of it was fun anymore. It all came to an end tonight. There was no other option, not when she could die tomorrow. The angels were coming, and they were coming for the hotel.

"I don't want you here tomorrow."

"What!?" Y/n exclaimed in utter shock.

She hadn't known what to expect when Alastor had stopped her as she made her way downstairs to the bar. Everyone was supposed to be having a drink together, celebrating their afterlives that there was a chance they might loose. She didn't know what to expect but, she certainly hadn't expected this.

Alastor had been acting weird lately. He was always weird but ever since the day with Husk in the hallway, he'd been weird even by those standards. He was always finding something for Y/n to do that put her near him, always watching. It was irritating. They had been fighting a lot and Alastor still had yet to apologize to Husk.

"I don't want you at the hotel tomorrow. You are not coming near this fight."

"What the fuck, Alastor?" Y/n nearly stamped her foot on the floor, she crossed her arms and glared at the demon, "I... these are my friends. This is my home. I will do what I can to protect it."

"No, you wont. You wont be here." he paused, "I will use our little deal to make sure of that, if need be."

Y/n scoffed. Her anger was a fiery, radiant thing. Alastor found himself thinking she had always reminded him quite a bit of a lioness when she got like this. The thought had been an accident, he couldn't afford to be distracted. Not when these were the stakes. Alastor pushed it away.

"You fucking... literally why? Like, what? I... sorry, just taking me a bit to process this: the demon who tricked me into selling my soul to them is now going to use that contract to take me, a valuable asset, out of a war which we cannot afford to loose?"

"Yes." Alastor nodded.

"Because?" Y/n prompted in irritation after a moment.

Alastor sighed.

"Y/n, think about what could happen if you are here."

"The same thing that could happen to any one here!" Y/n threw her arms up in exasperation, gesticulating her frustration as she spoke, "The same thing you're forcing on Husk and Nifty, have you had this chat with either of them?"

Alastor didn't respond. It was all the answer she needed.

"Yeah, I didn't fucking think so!" she scoffed, "So it's okay for everyone to risk their lives -- it's okay for you to risk your life even, but not me? Its okay for you to force my friends to risk their lives, but you're going to force me to stay out of it? Listen to yourself, you sound ridiculous."

"We don't need your help. You're slow, you will only hold us back."

The comment he had hope would dampen Y/n's spirit, bend her will into submission, only added to her fire.

"I'm... that's bullshit and we both know it. I might be small, but so is Nifty. Everyone has skills they can offer. I know how to fight, how to survive, and we will have angelic weapons for Christ's sake. Like, I really don't understand what the issue your having is here."

"Y/n, just... no." Alastor shook his head, a hand to his temples, "No. You will not be here tomorrow. I forbid it. I'm sending you to stay with Rosie."

"What am I, your kid?" Y/n sneered.

Alastor looked over at her, his hand falling from his forehead.

"Just please, Y/n." he took a step forward, pulling her hands into his. Alastor took a deep breath. "For me."

Y/n's eyes went wide. Alastor could see the conflict, the swirling emotions. Anger turned to grief, mixed with gratitude, and became anger again. A never ending cycle.

His heart pounded against his chest, it fought him valiantly for release. It had been so long. So long since she'd looked at him with anything other than disgust, so long since she had let him touch her like this.

Y/n settled on confusion as her dominant emotion and pulled her hands from his grasp. Alastor mourned the contact, his hands still held up in the air where hers had met them as Y/n took a step away.

"Why."

It wasn't a question. Y/n commanded information and at the end of the day, he may own her soul but she owned his heart. Alastor felt like in some way, she always had. He couldn't bear the thought of loosing her but, he didn't know if he could handle the rejection either. There was no way, no chance, she would believe him if he told her too much of the truth but, lying wouldn't work either. It would have to be a careful balance, a calculated withholding of information. Too much was riding on tomorrow, on tonight, on this very moment.

"Because I don't want you to die."

Y/n's brow furrowed even further, their eyes growing wider still as she stumbled another step back. Her back was nearly against the wall now, there wasn't anywhere else she could go.

Her eyes flitted around the space fervently. Her lips formed words that never left her mouth. Alastor watched, stress eating him alive. At last, Y/n did something. She brought her hands to her head and sunk to the floor, her knees pulled into her chest.

"What are you doing to me." she muttered softly, just barely loud enough for him to hear.

For what felt like the thousandth time, Alastor felt a little piece of his heart fracture off. He didn't know how much more he could take of this before there was nothing left to break, nothing left to loose. She looked up at him, her hands still holding either side of her head and her eyes wet with tears.

"Why do you care?"

Alastor's breath caught in his throat. There was an insistence in her voice, a pleading. He stood in indecision for a moment, frozen by want, by need, by fear. His body took over as he took a step towards Y/n. Alastor kneeled down in front of her.

With great care, with a familiarity and gentleness Y/n hadn't felt from him in years, Alastor untangled her fingers from her hair. He held her hands in his once again and this time, he wasn't going to let go.

"Because I care about you."

Shock at his own bravery emanated from his chest. Alastor held his breath.

"You..." Y/n's eyes hardened, "I wish you'd stop messing with my head like this. Its not funny."

"Y/n, I'm not messing. I am not playing a game, I'm not..." Alastor sighed, letting go of one of Y/n's hands and running his hand through his hair as he looked to the side.

Taking a deep breath, he turned back to face her, grabbing her free hand once again.

"I don't know what I can do to prove it to you, that I'm not. But I will keep you safe. No matter what, you will not be here tomorrow."

"Please, Alastor."

His heart stopped. He couldn't recall the last time she'd asked him for anything that wasn't to leave her, Husk, and Nifty, alone. He couldn't recall the last time she'd seemed to fragile in his arms.

"Please, they're... they're my family. I can't..." a single tear rolled down Y/n's cheek, "I can't just leave them."

"I..."

There was a moment, a split second where he almost agreed. Alastor's eyes narrowed. He dropped Y/n's hands and got back to his feet. She adjusted her position in response, nearly kneeling before him.

"Please, Alastor. Let me help them. Let me do what I can to protect my family. Please. I'll do anything you want... I'll..."

It almost worked. Alastor felt his purpose waver again. Then the fear came back. He had already lost so much. His mother, his humanity, his own soul and free will. Alastor refused to add Y/n to the list of things that were so far out of his reach. He just couldn't. He didn't care if she hated him for the rest of eternity, as long as it meant she was safe at his side.

"No." he shook his head, his heart hardening, "You forget, you already have to do whatever I want. You forget, I own you."

Y/n's scream of anger as the shadows took her was muffled as she was sucked into their portal. Alastor stood, watching the spot she had been in for a few moments and then, he doubled over in pain. It shot through him in spikes, in daggers. It was the first time he had told her that. Not once before had Alastor ever said those three words to Y/n, not even when they had first made their deal. I own you.

The guilt, the regret, all of it underpinned by the overwhelming love. It had been trapped for so long, so sheltered and pushed back in the recesses of his mind that it had twisted. The love had become obsessive, dangerous, hungry.

With a breath, Alastor stood straight once again. Pushing his composure back to the surface, he smoothed his hair and went down to the bar to inform everyone of his decision. He may have forced Y/n to do something she didn't want to, fracturing things further than he'd believed possible, but he wasn't going to blame her for it. Alastor was used to being the villain and hopefully, in this case, he wouldn't have to be. Hopefully, they would understand.

Y/n gasped for breath as she was let out of the shadow portal. Panting on all fours, slowly she brought herself back together. Y/n had met Rosie before, once or twice. She knew she was a kind soul at heart, a reasonable person, and she knew that Rosie's cannibals were the main force of their army tomorrow. All she had to do was convince the overlord to let her join them, and it would be okay.

Taking a deep breath to restore her confidence, Y/n looked up. Her heart dropped.

"No."

She got to her feet, looking carefully around the decrepit old radio tower.

"No. Nonono."

Her breaths becoming panicked, she ran to the door. It was locked. Taking a step back, she kicked it harshly. The firm wood didn't budge.

Driven by adrenaline alone, Y/n ran to the windows and began to hit them with all her might. None of them so much as trembled.

"No!"

She looked wildly around the space and, spotting Alastor's chair, picked it up. Y/n hurled it at the window. There was a crash and for a split second, there was hope. That was until she realized it was the chair that had broken, not the window.

"No! No!"

Turning back to the door, she hurled her body repeatedly against it. Each time, she got the biggest running start she could. Each time, there was no change at all, nothing happened. Fresh tears pooled in her eyes, she was long past panicked now.

"NO!"

After about twenty minutes, Y/n was out of breath and exhausted. Her whole body hurt and her face was sticky with tears. She sat at the door, her back pressed against it and her knees pulled into her chest. Burying her face in her legs, she sobbed.

Everyone was at the hotel, except for her. Everyone was preparing to fight for and protect what they loved, except for her. What would they think? What would they say? Much more importantly, would they make it out?

A sudden fear gripped her, a fist around her heart. Would she ever see any of them again? Y/n's sobs redoubled.

"Fucking..."

She sniffed, her panic and grief quickly fixing itself back in the shape of the familiar anger. She could see him in her minds eye, that moment his eyes had softened, that moment she thought that maybe he had been telling the truth all along, that they really had been friends, that he really did care.

"I hate you Alastor!" she screamed to herself, alone in the dark, "I hate you and I will continue to hate you until the day I fucking die again!"

----

A/N I love an irredeemable villain and doomed, misshapen love. I'm sorry to anyone who wanted this to end up happy.

[penkura]

Late Night Talks

Note: Decided to write this after this week's OP episode, hope all my Law fans are doing okay. :') It'll be fine, I'm sure. This is just some cute late night talking for Law and Reader, not connected to where you belong but is connected to the OP Men as Dads series, I suppose.

“You should sleep.”

Law is only a little bit startled when you speak, laying your arm across his chest while he lays back in your bed with a book in his hand, lamp and reading glasses still on despite the time. He hadn’t even realized it was almost 2am already, only checking the clock now and feeling slightly guilty.

“Did the light wake you?”

“No,” eyes still closed you shake your head, giving a small sigh when Law brings you closer with his free hand, “A few small kicks to my ribs did it. What are you reading tonight?”

“The fourteenth volume of Sora.”

“Gotta keep ahead of Rosi?”

“Hmm,” Law hums a bit and flips a page, not fully paying attention to the book, he’ll have to start this chapter again tomorrow, “Not really, but he likes to talk about it when I pick him up from school. I’m just refreshing myself on it.”

“Oh, please, like you don’t already know what happens.”

“Hey its been a while since I’ve read it. I need to make sure it’s still age appropriate too.”

“Well, thank you for that,” Laughing softly, you pat his chest which makes Law chuckle a bit in return, “He’s so smart though, especially for an eight year old. I’m sure he understands it all anyway.”

“He gets it from you.”

“Nope. Gets his looks and smarts from his father.”

“[Y/N]—”

“At least Cora has my eyes. Speaking of, your daughter would like a trip to the park later today.”

“Oh would she now?” Law raises an eyebrow at the ‘your daughter’ part, wondering what she did this time.

“Mm-hm, specifically asked for her daddy to take her too.”

“Asked?”

“Asked, had a tantrum, whatever you want to call it.”

Law just sighs and shakes his head, not that surprised hearing your nearly three year old had a tantrum earlier that day. Of course it’s common for toddlers, but normally you have nothing to report with Cora when Law gets home and she’s happy to be held and tucked into bed later in the evening. Her tantrums and fits are rate, but seem to happen more lately, he wonders if it’s due to his being at work until late or your pregnancy, but tonight is the first time it’s been mentioned in a while. Maybe he needs to try and talk to her alone.

“We should all go then. Take a walk as a family.”

“Mm…”

“[Y/N]-ya?”

It doesn’t surprise Law to see you’ve fallen back asleep just as quickly as you’d woken up, but he gets it, you’re more tired lately being so close to the end of your third pregnancy, to finally meeting your baby again. He’s as quiet as possible while he closes his book, setting it and his glasses to the side before he adjusts to having you in his arms as he lays down fully beside you. Law whispers a goodnight to you, placing a soft kiss to your forehead with one hand on your stomach to feel the little kicks that had woken you up in the first place before he soon falls asleep himself.

Even though morning is going to come soon, he’s grateful for the late night talks you two still have, even after all these years and now about to be three children. He’ll never get tired of them.

[wooahaeproductions]

Tracing Time (part one)

Kwon Soonyoung (Hoshi) x Female Reader

Summary: In order to cope with your mother’s death, you decide to study abroad in Rio for the summer just like she did. You come upon the diary she kept during that time, following all that she did 20 years ago. However, you didn't expect finding love would be part of that process.

Genre: fluff, angst, romance, comedy, smut (in part two), strangers to lovers au, neighbors au, college au

Word count: ~4.7k

Warnings: mentions of a family members death and mentions of ways to cope. Part two will have smut and will have it's own warnings.

Rating: 18+ for the completed fic

A/N: It's finally here! I struggled to write this for some reason but hopefully part two will come easier. This fic is for svthub's 2024 World Tour Collab and I am so happy to be apart of another collab. Please check out all the other amazing works as well! I also want to thank my beta readers Summer @beomcoups and Kiki @nonuify 🥰~Maren

You took a deep breath as you stopped in front of the student housing building and started at its gorgeous architecture before pulling an old photo from the front pocket of your bag. You held it out in front of you, confirming this was the building the smiling woman in the photo was standing in front of. You were here, standing in the same spot your mother had at your age when she studied at the very same summer exchange program in Brazil that you were going to.

You slipped the photo back into your bag and took one more big breath before bringing yourself and your luggage into the lobby of the building. You were supposed to meet the student liaison for the university exchange program there to get your dorm keys along with your class information. You looked around the large lobby in awe. It looked much more like a hotel with its grand marble floors and sophisticated ambiance than student accommodations. 

“You must be Y/N!” You heard a woman say in accented English and you spotted her walking across the lobby toward you. She was an older woman wearing a designer pantsuit, and her hair looked like she had just been at a salon. You certainly weren’t in Chicago anymore. Everything was different here, and you had only been at the airport and this place so far. 

“Hi, I am she,” you responded to the woman, feeling a little overwhelmed already. Which honestly wasn’t that unusual given the circumstances of the past year. 

“Welcome to PUC University and Rio de Janeiro. I’m Mrs. Delgado,” she said. She must have sensed how overwhelmed you were because she gave your arm a gentle pat before continuing. She pulls a packet of paper out of the bag she was carrying and hands it to you. “This is your class schedule and some information about the benefits available to you as an exchange student. There are only three classes since it is a summer program, one being the Portuguese class that all of our international students are required to take, Drawing 110, and Brazilian Art and Architecture.” 

After explaining your schedule, she then pulled out a set of keys that jingled on an ornate keychain, one that matched the building. “And these are the keys to your dorm,” she said, handing them to you. “I’ll let you get settled and ready for your first day tomorrow. If you need anything, don’t hesitate to contact me and boa sorte!” A second later, she was gone leaving you staring at your dorm number on the keychain. 

“203,” you murmured the number, looking around to see if there was any indication of where your room would be. You opted to ask the boy manning the front desk, whose English was actually great. He pointed to the staircase on the other end of the lobby and told you it was up those and to the right. Just as you were about to head up the stairs, wheeling your suitcase behind you, someone just about knocked you over. A guy to be exact, a handsome one at that. 

“Oh my gosh, I’m late. I’m so sorry, but I’m late!” He blurted, briskly brushing past you with a rushed apology. You stood at the bottom of the stairs, blinking while he ran out of the building. You didn’t have the energy to think about him right now despite his looks, not that you ever entertained the idea of a meet-cute this way or god forbid actually falling in love in this scenario.

You shook your head and put the handle down on your suitcase so you could carry it upstairs with you. You turned the key in the door to your room and walked in, your eyes taking in where you would live for the next few months. It was simple, much like a hotel room but you did have a tiny kitchenette that you didn’t expect to have and a window that looked out to the square that was in front of the building.

You brought your suitcase up on the twin bed so you could unpack a few things before thinking about finding dinner. You put a few clothes in the small dresser that was there before stumbling upon the whole reason you were here: your mom’s diary. You picked it up and sat on the edge of the bed with it, fingertips stroking the leather cover.

Six months earlier 

People were coming in and out of the house giving you and your family words of condolences, but everything was a blur to you. You sat on the couch in the living room when you had all come back from the funeral home, numb to everything. Tears had long since been exhausted, and now all you were was an empty shell, an empty shell without a mother. You were vaguely aware that your grandmother had sat down next to you, brushing your bangs out of your eyes before gently placing a book in your lap: your mother’s diary from when she was the same age as you.

You opened the leather book up, looking at the cover page that you had stared at so many times since your grandmother had given it to you. You recognized your mom’s loopy writing confirming that the diary belonged to her and Summer 1985 written underneath. You turned the page to the first entry, the one that had the photo of your mother outside this building stuck in right before it. It was dated June 15th of that year, when she arrived in Brazil and was in the same student housing. 

As you read your mother's account of her arriving at student housing, you couldn’t help but feel as if you were hearing her voice again. It was almost as if you were just on a trip and you were reading a letter she sent you. But of course, you weren’t just on any trip, and she was gone. 

Your stomach grumbled, interrupting your reading, and you closed the diary. You sighed, wondering if you should venture out to find something to eat. You pulled out your phone and laid down on the bed for a few minutes while you looked to see if there was someplace close that sounded decent. However, jet lag took over, and you fell asleep with your phone in your hand, it falling and smacking you on the forehead some time later.

Fourteen hours later, you awoke to your phone alarm going off. You panicked. Was that the first time your alarm went off? Were you late for your first class? You hadn’t meant to fall asleep at all, but that darn jet jag overcame you. Pressing your finger on the phone screen to silence the alarm, you were relieved to find that it really was just your first alarm. It was 7:30 am and you weren’t late, you had plenty of time. Which was a good thing because your stomach had upgraded from the light growling from last night to feeling like it was about to eat itself. 

You had done your research before enrolling in the summer program and knew that the university offered a student cafeteria for meals that was part of the tuition fee. You assumed it was in the packet of information you received yesterday as well, but you hadn’t had time to look over that yet. You got dressed in a simple sundress, one that was classy and suited to the warm weather in Rio. You grabbed the book bag with all your class materials from where you placed it at the small table by the door and headed out of your dorm.

The lobby was bustling with others probably also headed to their morning classes. The university’s campus was only a short distance away, so you opted to walk although it looked like the dorms had bikes outside the building that you could borrow if you wanted to. Your first class didn’t begin until 9 am and you would have plenty of time to get there as well as get breakfast at the cafeteria. 

You walked out of the dorm building and out to the cobbled stoned square. You paused to bring a map up on your phone, making sure you were about to head in the correct direction. You continued to walk on the brownish-gray stones as you passed by a few little shops before the cobblestones turned into a normal concrete street. You followed it up a small hill before you reached a large traffic circle with the main university building behind it. 

Luckily there was a campus map just outside the doors to the main entrance. You looked at it, finding where the cafeteria was and also noting where the international building was for your class afterward. The cafeteria was teeming with students getting food, mostly breakfast at this early hour. You got in line and grabbed some sliced fruit and scrambled eggs, as well as some coffee. They had some items that were also common for Brazilian culture, but you opted to try those later when you were less nervous and didn’t have a class to attend right after.

You scanned your meal card at the checkout which had been in the packet of information that Mrs. Delgado had given you yesterday. You chose an empty table near the windows and ate your food as leisurely as you could before class. Your stomach was no longer trying to eat itself and all that remained was an uncertain feeling in the pit of it. You didn’t even know why you felt all this turmoil, but nothing felt right or even normal since your mother passed.

You placed your empty tray at one of the receptacles by the door and walked out of the cafeteria. You followed the path you mapped out earlier, leading to the international building. You had about 15 minutes before the class started, so you didn’t need to hurry. You looked around at the buildings on your way. The campus looked much like a normal campus but all buildings were made from stucco material and the main roads had a wave-like pattern in them.

You reached the classroom after a few minutes. The door was on the outside of the building and you opened it. Still being a bit early, there were only a few people in the classroom. You chose a seat in the middle, not too far in the front but not too far in the back. You sat your bookbag on the floor next to you, took out the textbook with your notebook and a pen, and set them on the table in front of you. A couple of loud students entered the classroom and you couldn’t help but look up at the noise. 

You couldn’t believe your eyes. The same boy who nearly ran you over yesterday was among the group. You inwardly groaned. Worse yet, when he scanned the room for a seat, he spotted you. You looked down at the desk, trying to hide your face to no avail. “Oh! It’s you!” He exclaimed, coming to sit in the space next to you. You kept looking in every other direction but his, hoping he would think you were actually someone else.

He didn’t seem to be aware that you were trying to avoid eye contact and continued to introduce himself. “Hi, I’m Soonyoung! I’m really sorry for almost running into you yesterday but I hope we can be friends since it looks like we are both exchange students!” Now you couldn’t help but stare at him. How could someone have so much energy and also be so clueless to your anti-social cues? Your brain was tired just listening to him ramble on. 

You weren’t sure what else he was saying but it sounded like he asked a question. “-your name?” Oh, great, he was asking for your name. You contemplated not telling him, but he would probably annoy it out of you anyway. “I’m Y/N,” you responded, your irritation slightly bleeding into your tone. Soonyoung didn’t get to say anything after that. Luckily, the teacher walked into the classroom at that moment, clapping his hands to gain everyone’s attention and effectively cutting off any conversations happening. 

The teacher, who introduced himself as Mr. Morales went over the class syllabus, and then you started in on the first chapter of the textbook which introduced the different sounds the Portuguese language had versus English. You avoided Soonyoung’s gaze the entire time but you could feel it on you. As soon as class was dismissed, you threw your belongings back in your bag and booked it out of the classroom before he had time to think about catching you. 

You didn’t have more classes today, your other two would happen tomorrow so you had planned to take the somewhat long trek to see the famous statue in Rio, Christ the Redeemer. It would take you about an hour and a half by bus, but your mother had visited it, so you wanted to as well. You pulled out the bus timetable and map (one of the many things in the packet that Mrs. Delgado had given you) from your bag as you walked back toward the front of campus where the bus stops were.

You found the stop for the correct bus number and sat down in a seat under the covered area to avoid the early afternoon sun. The timetable showed the bus you needed would be there in about five minutes and once you got off it, you would have to decide if you wanted to walk to the statue or if you were going to take a tram. 

You sat there watching students walk by as you waited, looking like they were having the best time being at school. You felt so out of place, questioning why you even decided to come here. Would this really make you feel closer to your mother, make you feel better about her being gone? You highly doubted you’d ever feel better about the latter. 

You stuck your hand inside your bookbag, finding your mother’s diary and brushing your hand over the smooth leather surface. Somehow feeling the front of the book, touching a physical item of hers always soothed your thoughts. You knew you would continue feeling like you didn’t belong in a place as amazing as Rio, but you wanted to keep seeing what she saw and hearing her voice through diary entries, even if it was something you could only hear in your head. 

The bus arrived, pulling you out of your thoughts and you got up to get on it. You tapped the bus pass on the pad at the front near the driver and scanned the bus. There were quite a few people on the bus but it wasn’t packed. You spotted a window seat near the middle and took it. The ride was kind of long but you had nice scenery to look at and the bus wasn’t too loud. You took some time to relax a little and soak it all in. 

About an hour later, the bus had reached its destination. You had arrived at the bottom of a somewhat large mountain near the entrance to a rainforest. You looked at how high it was and at the statue at the top. You definitely were not going to hike that today, and opted to take the tram that was available instead. There was a little kiosk nearby where you bought your tram ticket and a schedule posted on the side that said the tram came every 5 minutes at this time of day.

Luckily, you didn’t have to wait long at all since you bought your ticket just a minute or two before the next one arrived. You handed your ticket over to the driver and got on the tram. It reminded you of those trams they had when you went to the zoo or something. The sides were open so you could feel the breeze as the tram climbed the mountain and you could smell the different plants and trees.

The further the tram climbed, the closer the famous statue got, and soon you arrived at the bottom of it. The tram stopped at the park at the top of the mountain that contained Christ the Redeemer. You got off the tram, in awe of how big the statue really was. You knew it was big, but seeing it in person was something else entirely. 

Many people surrounded the bottom of the statue and there were no benches to be seen. You found an empty area on one side and decided to sit on the concrete floor of the platform. Looking up at the statue, you settled in your sitting spot and pulled your sketchbook and your mother’s diary from your bag. You opened the diary to the next unread page, dated a week later than the first. Another photo was stuck in the pages and you took it out, seeing another photo of your mother smiling, with Christ the Redeemer in the background.

June 21st, 1985

Rio has been amazing. I haven’t been here long but it sometimes feels like home to me. I feel like I belong here with all this incredible architecture. And guess what? I met a boy! I came to visit the famous Christ the Redeemer statue and he offered to take my photo with the statue. He was actually in the middle of drawing a caricature for another girl but dropped everything when he saw I was trying to take a photo of myself with the statue. I couldn’t help but swoon a little. I found out he studies drawing at the same university that I’m attending for the summer. And then he asked me out for dinner! I’m really excited to go on a date with him. Will this just be a summer fling or could it be more? 

You took in this entry. Did your mom meet someone here? Was it your dad? You couldn’t help but be curious about this man and you wondered how far their relationship had gotten. Was he the person from whom you got your talent for drawing? You had so many questions and knew that those questions might go unanswered. For now, you opted to try and feel connected by drawing something yourself.

You took your sketch pencils out of the small pocket at the front of your bag and opened your sketchbook up to a blank page. Setting it in your lap, you looked around, deciding what you wanted to sketch exactly. Just the statue or the people surrounding it too? You decided to just sketch the statue to start with and fill in surrounding areas as you saw fit. You drew, looking up every once in a while to look at the small details of the statue. 

One time you looked up and noticed someone busking close to the bottom of the statue a little bit in front of you. He looked cute from just a glance. He was dancing to a little boombox playing near him with a cup next to it, collecting any change people were willing to give. You looked closer and realized who the dancer was. Soonyoung. You sighed in annoyance. Was he everywhere? Was the universe messing with you?

You continued to draw, hoping he was too distracted by his busking to notice you. There were tons of people around, there was no way he could spot you among all of them. As you sketched your eyes couldn’t help but be drawn back to him like a magnet. His dance moves were sharp but smooth and you could see his routine completely consumed him. You kept taking glances while sketching.

You were finishing up the last few lines when you heard your name called. You thought he was too enthralled with his busking to notice you, but you were very wrong. He picked up his cup of change and his boombox and jogged over to where you were. “I didn’t expect to see you here,” he said, stopping in front of where you were sitting and giving you a smile that made the corners of his eyes crinkle.

“Um, yeah. I decided to do some sightseeing and do some sketching,” you responded, a little meekly. You felt weird around him now for some reason. He was annoying in class earlier, but now he seemed different and you weren't sure what to think. He was still bright and energetic but not irritatingly so. 

“Oh, you draw?” he asked, a bit surprised.

“Yeah, that’s what I’m studying here this summer. Art,” you explained.

“Cool! I’m here for performance arts if the busking hadn’t given you a heads up already,” He offered with a small laugh.

He paused your small conversation for a minute to take a look at his change cup to see how much he had made today.

“Listen, if you are done with what you wanted to do today..there’s a nice cafe near the tram station and if you are hungry, I made more than enough money today so I’d like to treat you,” He rambled. It wasn’t exactly a question, but the way he said it was actually kind of cute.

You were hungry and you supposed it couldn’t hurt, right? “Alright,” you agreed and a smile stretched across his face again. You put your sketchbook, pencils, and mom’s diary back in your bag and stood up, brushing your pants off from any dirt that you picked up while sitting on the ground. Maybe you should take a page from your mom’s book and get to know Soonyoung a little more.

You both walked back down off the statue’s platform and down the stairs to where the tram would pick you up and take you back down the mountain and to where the cafe Soonyoung mentioned would be. Once again, you did not have to wait long for the tram to arrive and you both got on, Soonyoung sitting next to you.

You could feel the breeze again as the tram descended the mountain this time. You looked over to find Soonyoung looking out the other side quietly, the wind ruffling his hair lightly. He had the same smile on his face as earlier, making his face look strangely childlike compared to the manly confidence he had earlier while busking. You liked seeing the two different sides of him. It was cute. He could be quiet when he was by himself, a big difference from when he was with a crowd.

While you were busy staring at Soonyoung, the tram stopped back at the bottom of the mountain. “Y/N?” Soonyoung questioned, holding out a hand to pull you up from the seat.

“Oh, sorry,” you said, not realizing you had spaced out. You took his hand as he pulled you up, noticing how big it was. It felt nice, having your hand engulfed in his. You continued to hold on to it as you both got off the tram. When you both got off, you let go awkwardly, not wanting to give Soonyoung the wrong idea (even if you did really like holding his). You hadn’t even been on a date yet. He gave a nervous chuckle and just beckoned you to follow him. 

You followed him down a few streets from the park area where you guys were previously, to a little hole-in-the-wall cafe that was surrounded by other shops and small apartments. It was small and felt homey when you walked in the door with Soonyoung. You waited at the front for a minute or two before someone came by to seat you. “Oh? I see you brought a friend today!” The waitress said before grabbing some menus and guiding you to open-air seating at a back patio that featured a small garden to the side of it.

She sat you two at a table and sat the menus in front of you. “I’ll be back in a few to take your order,” she said before giving Soonyoung a knowing wink. 

“I take it you come here a lot,” you commented.

“You could say that,” he responded with a sheepish grin, “I usually make enough to come here each time I busk, so two to three times a week?” 

“Two to three times a week?!” You were surprised that he busked that often and that he chose to come here every time.

“Yeah, it’s the only way for me to make some extra cash. I’m here through a special program so they only pay for my tuition and dorm fees,” he explained. You nodded. You were similar, except that you had your grandmother sending you spending money when you needed it. 

You turned your attention to the menu, trying to decide what to eat. There were a lot of options but you decided to try a more traditional Brazilian stew called Feijoada. Something hearty sounded good after the busy day you’ve had so far. The waitress came by and took your order while Soonyoung ordered Moqueca, another type of stew but with seafood.

You made more small talk while waiting for your food to arrive such as where you were originally from (You: Chicago, Him: Seoul) and what types of foods you liked. You passed the time well enough that your food felt like it came out quickly. It looked amazing and your stomach confirmed how hungry you were by giving a small growl. Loud enough, however, to make Soonyoung let out a small giggle.

You start digging in when Soonyoung nervously broaches a topic. “So, when we were at Christ the Redeemer you mentioned doing some sightseeing. I don’t know if I’m reading too much into things, but it seems like it was more than just seeing the sights here.”

You put down your spoon and contemplate whether you want to open up to him or not. You sighed before starting your explanation. “You’re right, it’s not just general sightseeing. In fact, my mom is the whole reason I’m here.”

“Your mom?” He asked, prompting you to continue.

“Yeah…she um, died about 6 months ago,” you said, looking down at your stew like it was the most fascinating thing in the world at the moment.

“Oh, Y/N. I’m so sorry,” Soonyoung frowned, his voice turning sympathetic and you swore his eyes had a sheen to them.

“It’s…okay. Or at least it’s becoming okay,” you responded honestly and then continued. “Anyway, my grandma gave me my mom's diary. One she kept while she was here doing this program with the university. So I decided to do it too and see all the same sights she did hoping it might make me feel closer to her or something? I don’t know.” You were rambling a little now. 

“I think that’s neat,” Soonyoung said after a minute.

“You do?” You asked, a bit surprised.

“Yeah, I think it’s cool. You get to go stand where she stood and see the same things she saw with her own eyes. That’s definitely a good way to feel closer to someone,” He encouraged.

“It does,” you agreed.

“This might sound weird and I know we’ve only known each other a few days but would it be okay if we go to the places your mom did together?” Soonyoung asked. His eyes no longer had the sheen you saw a minute ago but instead held a mixture of empathy, excitement, and something else you couldn’t decipher. 

Before you knew it, you found yourself nodding. “I think I’d like that,” you said, a smile starting to tug at the edges of your lips. Then you leaned over the table to give him a small peck on the cheek. He looked a little stunned for a minute but then he smiled back, a wide smile that showed his teeth and you had to admit he was adorable. 

How could you go from being so annoyed by him to liking him a lot in just one day? You didn’t know but maybe your mom would have wanted this for you.

©️wooahaeproductions

All works on this blog are protected under copyright. Do not repost, continue, or translate my works.

[cillianhead]

Hey! I was wondering if you could write a little smutty/angsty something for Neil Lewis. Maybe bestfriend!reader, who recently got with some other man, and Neil is incredibly jealous and maybe... possessive. 👀 Some angst heated argument finished with a smut would be lovely. 🤭

Thank you!

Of course, of course!

Thank you for your request!

You're The Only One Who Makes Me Feel Alive || Neil Lewis x Reader

warnings: Smut, angst, best friends to lovers, swearing, slight (?) drug use (marijuana), jealousy, unprotected P in V, Neil is quite obsessed with reader's boobs (because c'mon, NEIL IS A BOOB MAN!!!) like sort of switch!neil but not quite, adult content!

18+ Minors DNI

It was a slow Friday night at Gumshoe Video. You had closed by now, though. You sat between Lucien and Jonathan, a bit stoned, and watched some horrible Horror-Parody film called 'Bad Taste'. You had zoned out, drowning out Jonathan and Lucien's incessant bickering about the film and whether it was good or bad.

"-It's Peter Jackson, for Christ's sake. It's a masterpiece of its time or whatever," Lucien argued. Jonathan just scoffed, crossing his arms over his chest. "It's supposed to be ridiculous!" Lucien protested.

"Are we watching the same movie?" Jonathan grunted with a hint of amusement. "How the hell did someone see this and think... 'yeah, that's the guy we're getting for Lord of the fucking Rings'!"

Lucien quipped back something particularly witty and sarcastic, but it all turned into one big blur of words to you. You were incredibly bored and stoned that none of what was happening on the TV screen made sense. You looked like a zombie, lips parted and an expression of awe on your face.

"Not this stupid movie," You heard the sound of Neil's voice from behind you. Quickly sitting up and turning to look at him, like an expectant dog when its owner comes home. "I've got the snacks if you guys even care." Lucien and Jonathan grumble their words of appreciation while you just sat and smiled at your best friend.

You all had smoked together, but you hadn't really prepared for the munchies that would come along with it. So you flipped a coin, and poor little Neil was the one who had to go to the nearest convenience store and buy as much junk food as he could carry. Two seafoam green plastic grocery bags were hanging off of Neil's sturdy forearms that said 'Recycle Me!' on them while he stood, smiling back at you.

"What'd you get Neily-poo?" You hummed, standing up and approaching him.

"I hate it when you call me that," Neil grumbled before handing you one of the bags. "I just got all the classic snacks... Cheetos, Twizzlers, Lucien's favorite white chocolate... and of course, I got your favorite..."

You squealed out of delight, lunging on Neil and wrapping your arms around him. "Did you really?" You said, pulling away with your arms still around his neck. Neil hummed while pulling the familiar mouth-watering box of Swedish Fish out of the grocery bag.

You properly pulled away now and snatched it out of his hand greedily. "Hey...! Wait... where's my thanks?" He tilted his head, tapping his pointer finger on the apple of his cheek. You rolled your eyes playfully before placing a grateful peck on his cheek.

You two sat on the spare couch together. You leaned against Neil, as you always do, your head on his chest and his arm wrapped around you. It had always been that way with you two, both very physically affectionate with each other. Though not when Neil was in a relationship, you knew how threatened his girlfriends felt by you, though you never understood why... Neil was always insistent on how you were just a friend, even going as far as to say you were like a sister to him.

When the movie ended and Neil had a bit more to smoke, you all sat around munching on your snacks, thinking of what to do next.

"Do you guys wanna come over to my place, and we can do this again tomorrow night?" Neil asked, scratching at his chin.

"Sure, I'd love that, dude," Jonathan nodded before popping a handful of peanut M&M's into his mouth. "Sounds great." He said with his mouth full.

"Gross!" You scolded, throwing a piece of popcorn at him. "Don't eat with your mouth full..."

"What did you just say?" Lucien laughed.

"I mean... don't talk with your mouth full!" You corrected, and everyone sat around giggling at that. "You knew what I meant!" Your cheeks heated up with embarrassment at your mistake.

"...and yeah, I'll come over tomorrow night." Lucien said to Neil. Neil gave him a thumbs up before turning his head over to you.

"How about you, Y/N?" Neil hummed, sighing as he leaned his head against the couch, cheek smushing a bit as he smiled softly down at you. He's so pretty, I just wanna kiss him, You thought."You wanna come over?" Yikes, you thought. You bit your lip and sucked in a breath. "Well... I... well... actually, I've got plans tomorrow, guys... I'm sorry." You shrugged apologetically.

"What?" Jonathan murmured, mouth still full, chewing obnoxiously loud.

"Since when do you have plans?" Lucien remarked. You gave him a dry smile.

"I'm going on a date... believe it or not," You snorted, looking down at your lap, embarrassed to admit. You never really talked about your love life with the guys, especially not Neil. Things always got awkward. Neil never discussed his with you either; you'd only briefly meet his girlfriends, and then that was it. You didn't understand why it had to be so awkward between you when discussing dating.

The room went silent at that. You looked towards Neil, his arm retracted away from you and tucked back into his side as you noticed the frown on his face. You could see the look on Jonathan and Lucien's faces, eyes flickering between the two of you, trying to gauge some sort of reaction.

"Oh..." Neil mumbled, sounding disappointed, popping a popcorn kernel into his mouth and chewing dryly. "Good for you... congratulations..."

"We're not getting married," You laughed uncomfortably. "Plus, I doubt it's gonna be anything that special... we're going to some downtown dive bar to have drinks and then probably go back to his place or something..." Neil had a visible expression of distaste, fiddling with his thumbs. You didn't get why he was so upset. "What's his name?" He said, voice barely above a whisper.

"Russell."

"Russell." He repeated coldly. Jonathan and Lucien were utterly silent. The tension was thick, and trying to waft through it felt suffocating.

"Why are you upset?" You blurted out. "Can't you at least be happy for me for once that I'm finally fucking going out with somebody?"

""Course I'm happy for you, Y/N, I just don't want you... to get hurt..." Neil muttered. "That's all."

"Right." You scoffed, scooting to the other side of the couch.

The tension was unbearable, and Jonathan shifted uncomfortably on the couch. Things always got weird when you brought up a guy you like or a guy you were seeing. You never got why. Why would Neil be upset that you were seeing somebody? How many girlfriends did you have to sit and watch him be with? How many painful breakups have you comforted him through? How many times had you encouraged him to go over and talk to a girl he thought was pretty? A countless amount of times, that's what. So the fact that the mood visibly shifted as soon as you said you were going on a date... it pissed you off. Neil was never encouraging when it came to putting yourself out there romantically. It was almost like he was jealous, but you knew he had no reason to be.

"How'd you meet?" Lucien cleared his throat, trying to lighten the air.

"Well when I was here alone the other day... he was in the shop-"

"He was in the shop?" Neil interrupted with a whine, eyebrows knitted together.

"Yeah, he was, so what?" You turned and looked at Neil, glaring at him.

"Can't believe you're going out with a customer," Neil muttered. "Thought you were better than that." "What the fuck's that supposed to mean?"

"It... no... nothing, just-" "God forbid I meet someone!" You were standing up now. Lucien and Jonathan had gotten up and wandered over to the other side of the shop, pretending they were browsing the shelves. "How many fucking bimbos have you asked out that had come in here, Neil?" "Y/N-" "I'm leaving." You barked, grabbing your things and rushing out, not before giving Lucien and Jonathan a gentle wave before slamming the door and walking home in the pouring rain.

The walk home was long and treacherous. Usually, Neil would drive you home. But you couldn't stand to be around him right now, not after his hypocritical words. When you got home, you collapsed in bed, still in your wet clothes, and cried your eyes out. Thunder cracked outside, and your windows rattled with the harsh wind. Your phone began to ring, the familiar ringtone you assigned to Neil's contact buzzing through your pocket. You just groaned.

"Go away, Neil." You grunted into your pillow, bickering to no one. "Why can't you just leave me alone?"

Curling up into a ball, the tears continued to fall. You hated the way you felt towards Neil; you hated that you wanted him to be more than just a friend. Your phone kept ringing, and it only made you cry harder.

You remembered freshman year of high school when you first met Neil; you instantly clicked and were in every class together. Everyone always thought you were dating, and you'd both share a round of 'Ew's and 'That's never gonna happen' and then silently look at each other thinking 'What if' (unbeknownst to each other). You always daydreamed about losing your virginity to Neil, the scrawny, awkward pimply boy who was the sweetest guy you'd ever met, though you ended up losing it to some guy called Lloyd over a dare. It wasn't very romantic, nor was it pleasurable. You just laid there and thought about Neil the whole time.

The sleep you got that night was terrible, but you tried to focus on the positives. You were going on a date! Yay! Not with Neil, though. You spent the day mostly picking out an outfit, mentally scolding yourself for not deciding on it sooner since most of your good clothes were dirty and you were feeling incredibly antsy. Your phone had been blowing up all day. Texts from Neil, Jonathan, and Lucien lit up your screen every other second. You didn't reply, you couldn't, you felt entirely too embarrassed.

Meanwhile, Lucien lounged on the couch at Neil's house, and Jonathan watched Neil pace back and forth in his kitchen while making handmade whipped cream. They were going to make a cake.

"I just don't know what to do, man," Neil huffed, stirring the bowl even more aggressively. Jonathan watched, unsure of how to comfort his friend. "What the fuck do I do? What if this guy is like... her soulmate or something cliche like that?"

"Okay," Jonathan laughed, putting his hand in the air. "Russell is not her soulmate." "How do you know? Have you met him?" Neil hissed back.

"No, but... how do we even know this 'Russell' guy even exists? What if she's just trying to make you jealous?"

"That's a good point!" Lucien quipped in from the other room.

"Thanks, Lucien," Jonathan rolls his eyes before looking back at Neil, who has set the bowl aside, melting to the floor with tears. "Look... dude, I think you should go over there and tell her how you feel... the worst she can say is no..."

"The worst she can say is no," Neil mocked, tears streaming down his face. "Yeah fuckin' right! She's gonna..." Neil sobbed, hiding his hands in his face. "I'll go over there, and she'll... never want to speak to me again... she wouldn't feel the same way... it's impossible!"

Jonathan looked exasperated. It was painfully apparent to everyone but you and Neil that you two were soft for each other. You usually spend every day together. The idea of losing you to some other guy was heartbreaking for Neil. Neil cried like a baby, and Jonathan watched, awkwardly leaning against the counter, unsure what to say.

"Just fucking do it, you fucking idiot!" Jonathan blurted out. "I know she likes you... do you really think Y/N would've stuck around this long with us losers if she didn't feel something for you?"

"I don't know, Jonathan..." Neil whimpers, looking up at Jonathan with the most pitiful eyes anyone has ever seen. He looked straight out of a painting.

"And even if she doesn't feel the same for you..." Jonathan continues, crouching down to be at his height on the floor. "You guys have known each other way too damn long to just throw away a good friendship over you liking her. Y/N's a smart girl. She'll learn to accept it if she doesn't feel the same way."

Neil just buried his face further into his knees, continuing to cry. "Gee, you'd think he just got his period or something." Lucien said unhelpfully.

"Shut up, Lucien!" Neil and Jonathan yelled in unison.

"Listen, I think you should just tell her... she ain't responding to any of my texts... and I don't know how it's gonna go with this Russell guy tonight, so I reckon you should head on over there..." Jonathan rambled. Neil still stayed in the same place, with his head in his hands. "Like right now!" Jonathan yelped, and Neil jumped at the sudden shift in volume and tone.

Neil approached your house as you sat in some dive bar, waiting for your date. His key twisted your locked door. Unbeknownst to him, the house was completely empty. And as he walked in, Russell was yet to arrive, over twenty minutes late to your date. At this point, you'd accepted that you had been stood up and patted yourself down, ensuring you had everything you brought.

"Y/N!" Russell's voice greets you, clearly out of breath. "I'm so sorry for being late... traffic was awful." Yeah, right, you thought. But you gave him a small smile and sat back in your booth. "That's alright," You pressed down your skirt that rested uncomfortably high on your thighs, trying to calm your nerves. The leather of the seats stuck to your thighs as Russell began making small talk. How boring. You found yourself zoning out as you downed the drink Russell had bought you just to try and cope with the terribly grim situation you were dealing with. Russell was some sort of accountant. Just the idea of finance lulled your brain into a state of boredom and borderline sleepiness. Russell's voice was monotone, and the way he licked his cracked lips every time he spoke made you feel queasy.

Meanwhile, Neil sat on your couch, spread out and feeling hopeless. No other person could ever compare to you, never ever, ever, ever. The thought of you meeting this guy he didn't know anything about except for his god-awful name and possibly hitting it off... maybe starting a life with him... the jealousy was sickening. Genuinely sickening.

It was festering within him, after all these years of watching men come into the store and flirt with you, the jealousy... the possessiveness... that another man talking to his Y/N... brought on was just too much for poor little Neil to handle. The jealousy was now fuelling the reason he still stayed. As soon as you walked through that door, with Russell or not, he'd get on his hands and knees... and beg you to love him... beg you to love him the way he loves you.

An hour went by... and then another, by now, it was nearing 10:30 PM, and Neil wasn't even sure if you were coming home. He then remembered your words of 'going back to his place afterwards' and felt like the biggest idiot in the whole world. He felt like he had lost you... like he was mourning you. His heart broke silently, and the heavyweight in his chest grew to be too intense, too blue to even cry. So he stood up and sighed, looking around your apartment before saying his goodbyes. I won't be over much now that she has a boyfriend, Neil thought. But as he turned around, about to walk out the door, there you stood with your key still in the lock looking at him like you'd look at an angel.

"Neil?" You asked softly as if it could possibly be anyone else.

"Y/N," He gasped, rushing to you, hands reaching out to you. "Please listen to what-" "Who's this?" Russell asks with a scoff, leaning on the doorway. Neil backed away like he had just entered a cock-fight he knew he couldn't win.

"Russell..." You shifted to look at him. "I think it's better if you just go... we can... we can see each other another time." "Yeah, alright," Russell shrugged, playing it cool but Neil saw the flicker of annoyance flash through the man's eyes. Russell turned back around and left, leaving the two of you alone.

"What are you doing here, Neil?" You chided, closing the door and deadbolting it behind you before walking over to the couch with Neil.

"I... I need to talk to you..." Neil whispered. You sat right beside each other, staring into each other's eyes. A feeling grew in your chest like you knew what he was about to say. "Y/N..."

"Neil..."

"I..." He faltered, his eyes looking down at his lap as he reached out, holding both your hands in his. Your heart did a spin at this, lips parted as you breathed heavily. What is happening? "I.... fuck... I don't know how to do this," Neil pinched the bridge of his nose and sighed, clearly about to cry. "I've watched so many goddamn movies you'd think I... you'd think I'd have the right thing to say."

"Neil," You whispered, your voice coming out like a warning. "Just say it."

Neil looked up at you, speechless. The expression on his face was truly indescribable. Almost like a dramatic build-up, the room was silent, giving each other this look. This look you had never openly given to each other before.

"I don't want to kill my time with anybody else," Neil began, taking deep breaths. The sounds of cars passing by and trees swaying in the wind could be heard, along with the pounding of your heart. "You're the only one who makes me feel alive."

"Neil," You warned, looking away from him. "Why now?" You blurted out, quickly smacking your hand over your loose mouth.

"Wha...?" Neil asked, torn completely out of the moment by just those two words.

"Why are you telling me this now?" You questioned. Your hands ran down your face. "Why, Neil, Why?"

"What do you mean?" Neil shook his head, eyebrows knitted together. "What do you mean?!"

You were standing up now, you couldn't be close to him, you felt too dizzy. "After all these years... why are you only telling me this now?"

"I-I... I..." Neil stammered, utterly speechless this time. He wasn't expecting this reaction, he couldn't quite place what you were feeling. "I was afraid, Y/N."

"Of what?" You raised your voice and he flinched and suddenly the guilt hit you like a freight train. Tears fell down your face, ruining your makeup.

"Of losing you! Losing the only person in my life who actually matters!" Neil stood up as well, approaching you. Like a game of cat and mouse, you stepped away while he kept trying to round the coffee table to get to you. "I need you, Y/N. I need you to know how badly," He pleaded with you, but you couldn't find a way to let him further into your heart. He'd hit bone if he went any further into it.

"Neil, I don't know anymore! You're so confusing!" You screeched as he bumped into you, knocking you down onto the couch and he knelt in front of you, pleading eyes staring up at you. "I don't know what you want from me!" You cried.

"I want everything," He whispered, hands placed on both of your thighs. "I want to be yours... I want you to be mine. How do I make this any clearer?"

"I don't... I don't have you," You felt like you were being torn apart. "You don't want me. You just... you're just confused! You don't want me! You want..." You closed your eyes, thinking about the women Neil had dated. You felt like he wouldn't be satisfied with you... you felt like you weren't pretty enough or you were too boring or too familiar. "I don't have you... Neil... and I never will."

"You've always had me. Every second of every day... you've had me. I'm yours." Neil whispered, hands squeezing your thighs. "Please. I need to know."

"Need to know what?" "That you'll take me," His fingers travelled further up your goosebump-covered skin. "That you'll let me in, Y/N."

"How?" Your hands shook as you looked him in the eye again. This time... it felt like you were looking at a completely different man. It was no longer just your best friend you were looking at... but the man pleading with you to love him as if you hadn't been silently loving him from afar... all these years.

"Please let me show you."

Neil used his hands to balanced himself as he slowly and intimately leaned in, lips brushing yours every-so slightly. "Neil..." You whispered.

"Shh...." He hushed.

And your lips joined together. It felt like your body had let him in, like he was rewriting your DNA and letting every part of him consume you. He sat beside you now, cradling you in his arms as you kissed slowly. This was all so new to you, unlike any other kiss you had ever experienced. Every other kiss before this just felt like you were trying to negotiate something... but this... this kiss felt like your body had found its missing limb like it had found what it had been lacking all these years.

A string of spit connects the two of you as Neil softly pulls away, panting for breath. "Am I in yet?" He chuckled.

You tilted your head, squinting and stroking your chin, pretending you were struggling to decide. "Maybe... I don't know yet... think you'll have to try harder..." Your voice was still a bit shaky from crying. "Alright," He snorts before diving back in and kissing you rougher this time but still in that romantic, slow way. One hand placed on your hip and the other guiding the back of your head as you made out. Tongues pawing at each other like they were getting acquainted.

"Please touch me," Neil whimpered into your lips, and oh fuck, that was the most divine noise you had ever heard. "Please." "Only 'cause you asked so nicely..." You hummed, pushing him down and straddling him. You watched as he threw his head back, biting his lip and holding back the noises he so desperately wanted to make at the feeling of you sitting on him. Your fingers fiddled with the buttons on his shirt, watching him writhe underneath you at only the slightest touch. You popped each button out individually and slowly until Neil was groaning with annoyance.

"Don't be such a tease, Y/N," Neil grunted from behind gritted teeth once you had his shirt off. "If you felt how hard my dick was right now-"

"Oh, I do!" You giggled cheekily, slowly rolling your pelvis in a slow circle right over the tent in his trousers that poked into your thigh.

"You fucker-" He groaned, reaching his arms up and grabbing your head roughly and pulling you into a soul-sucking kiss, tongue grappling at yours desperately.

You moaned through dancing lips as you had the most delicious friction going. Neil was being just as loud as you, whimpers vibrating through your sternum and into your soul. Neil bucks his hips up pathetically before he breaks the kiss abruptly.

"You've gotta stop or I'm... I'm gonna..." He buried his muzzle in your neck and moaned. "I'm gonna fuckin cum in my pants." "Oh yeah?" You grinned, grinding your hips even faster.

"That means stop!" He grabs ahold of your wrists and flips you around like you were in a wrestling competition. You gasped out as he had you down against your couch, panting heavily above you with that frustrated-and-horny look. "I knew you'd be a little brat." He spat menacingly before grinning like a puppy, leaning down and kissing you heavily.

You ran your hands up your shirt, trying to pull your shirt off which made Neil pull away slowly when he realized you were taking your top off. "Are you sure?" He said breathily, above you, mouth wide open and his eyes glued on every inch of skin that was slowly being revealed more and more. You just nodded your head and smiled. "Oh fuck, you're showing me your boobs." Neil's eyes lit up like a kid in a candy shop. "Neil," You giggled as you got the top off and out came your tits, and there was Neil sitting there in disbelief at the sight of your boobs. "Neil!" You laughed, hitting him with a cushion; he smacked it away before looking back down at them with this look that almost resembled a look of horror. "Stop looking at me like that!"

"Fucking hell, this is the best thing to ever happen to me," Neil chirped. "Fuck... please, Y/N... please let me squeeze them."

"Go ahead, Neil, touch me," You hummed, raising your arms above your head and leaning back with a Cheshire cat grin as his hands slowly and cautiously cusp your boobs. He let out a soft moan and let his eyes flutter shut as he slid his hands over your breasts, you could hear his breath hitch as his thumb slid over your hard nipples. "You're acting like you haven't touched a boob before," You snickered.

"Oh, believe me, I have..." Neil nodded, eyes open now and staring at your tits like he was high. "Just none as good as these..." He leaned in, hot breath fanning your left breast, lips parted but he doesn't go any further than that.

"Put it in your mouth, pretty boy," You demanded, and like the sub you always thought he was, he obeyed with a smile. "Fuck... that's it." The tops of his cheeks were flushed a gentle pink as he sucked and swirled his tongue around your nipple. "Mmm...." He hummed, eyes closed. His full body weight was resting on you while he sucked on your tits, switching between them. You laid there for quite a while and wondered how long he could do this. You braided your fingers through his hair before tugging it back roughly, and he unwillingly popped off your tit with a loud and whoreish whine.

"Hey!" He complained with eyebrows knitted together as his eyes looked between your eyes and spit-covered tits. He's so spoiled.

"I always knew you'd be a little brat." You said, repeating what he said to you earlier.

Neil drools on you helplessly, groaning as you pull on his hair more until you two are sitting up facing each other. You grin once more and lean in, giving him a sweet little kiss. His hands cupping your tits desperately.

"Carry me to the bedroom." You hummed dramatically, raising your arms in the air, and Neil shook his head and chuckled as he leaned down and wrapped you up in his arms.

"I'm so glad you're my best friend," Neil murmured into your warm shoulder as he padded you guys down to the bedroom he had been in countless times.

"Not just best friends, though," You remarked as he laid you down on the bed with your legs over his shoulders. He reached towards your bedside table.

"Condoms?" He hummed, searching through your drawers, but found nothing.

"Birth control... you should know this you idiot!" You giggled at Neil realizing what you just said.

"Can I...?"

"Yes!"

"Like... inside?" He asked, squinting his eyes.

"Yes!" You nodded your head, laughing wildly.

"Fuck you're gonna be the best girlfriend ever!" Neil grunted happily before leaning in and kissing you like you were his last meal.

Meanwhile, he slid your skirt down and unzipped his trousers. You caught a glimpse of his thick cock straining against his briefs and found yourself growing wetter.

"Let me make you mine, Y/N..." He whispered. "Let me finally make you mine."

"I've been yours," You caressed his face. You were both out of your underwear now. The tip of his prick nudging your clit as you looked up at him with so much love. "Please... Neil... please... I need you so bad."

Neil nodded silently, closing his eyes as he lined up his aching cock with your dripping cunt. The initial push in made your mind go blank and your spine arch even further into his touch, Neil moaned as he pushed himself into you fully.

"I can't believe this is happening..." Neil whispered. "This is so much better than I ever imagined it to be."

"You thought about me?" You grinned idiotically, high on the way he was stretching you out.

"Fuck," He groaned, hair falling over his pretty face. "Every fuckin' night."

"Me too."

His hands were placed firmly on your hips, and as he receded back until it was just the head of his cock in you, his fingers slid up to grope at your tits that his eyes had been practically glued on all night. Neil fucked you nice and slow, relishing in the way your pussy felt around him. Your hands were gripping the sheets, legs still thrown over his shoulders and mouth spewing incoherent words of pleasure.

"Neil... baby... oh my god," Your eyes so desperately wanted to shut but you wanted to enjoy how pretty he looked above you. "I love you."

Those words hung heavy in the air for a moment, Neil's hips never faltering as he leaned down and kissed you. "I love you, Y/N." Neil whispered against your hot mouth.

That was all you needed to hear. His cock slid in and out of you, both groaning and moaning as your bodies finally became one. Neil's mouth hung agape against yours, breathing in each other's air. Neil's face was flushed a bright red, pupils blown wide, and his hair messy from how you ran your fingers through it. Your noses brushed together as his pelvis rutted against your clit, dick still so deep inside you.

"I love you so much," Neil panted, thrusting into you desperately. "I always have..."

"Love you..." You whimpered, eyes fluttering shut and your arms slithering around his neck as the pleasure consumed you from the inside out. "So much... Neil..."

Neil pressed a kiss to your cheek, nuzzling your face as he ground into you. "Fuck, please let me cum inside you."

"I'm so close, Neil..." You whispered. "Just hold on a little longer."

Neil grunted. A pyramid of pleasure building within you, ready to crash down and crumble inside of you. Your orgasm grew like a million tiny vines curling around each individual nerve until you saw colors you had never seen before.

"Squeezing me so tight," Neil whined. "I need to cum... please..."

"Cum," You commanded and he did.

Coming undone together felt like it was truly sealing your fate. You had never felt so close to him; you knew you could and would spend the rest of your life with him. He mewled into the crook of your neck, cum spilling into you as you convulsed, orgasm swallowing you whole and ridding you of all your senses. All you felt was him and the impending pleasure devouring you. Neil's whimpers only further pushed you over the edge.

"Y/N," He moaned like a whore. "Fuck... Y/N..." He whined right into your ear as his cock continued to fill you with his warm cum.

Your brain couldn't conceive a proper thought. You couldn't will yourself to speak as he collapsed on top of you. You smile as you lay there together, skin on skin, hearts pounding in sync. Neil pulled out of you with a quiet hiss, picking you up and curling up with you under the sheets.

You looked at each other silently, both still calming down. Your thumb drew infinity signs onto his cheekbone, slowly blinking at the boy you had always wanted- no, needed.

"That was the best thing to ever happen to me," Neil whispered, sleepy eyes looking at you full of adoration. "You're the best thing to ever happen to me." Neil pecked you softly on the lips. "I can't believe it took me this long to tell you... I... I'm sorry." "Shh..." You hushed. "It's okay... we're together now... that's all that matters."

You lay in silence once more, hearts still pounding in your chests. You took in every detail of him, which you had memorized countless times before, but this time it was different. It felt much more intimate. Every crease, every freckle... every tiny minuscule detail of him was the most beautiful thing you had ever seen.

"Does this mean we're boyfriend-girlfriend now?" Neil chuckled, rolling over onto his back, pulling you into his side.

"Shut up, Neil," You giggled. "You're such a dork."

"You love it." He quipped.

"I do," You agreed. "I love you."

"I love you," Neil smiled sweetly, and as he leaned in to kiss you again, you were quickly interrupted by the sound of Neil's phone ringing. "Fuck me," He grunted, reaching down to grab at his jeans where his phone was. "Hello?" He said with a sour face. "Hi, Jonathan, everything is okay... yes, she's here with me..." Neil looked down at you with a smirk. "Yes, Lucien can borrow my goggles... I don't care... can we talk about this later?" Neil hung up and tossed his phone aside before looking back at you with a sheepish smile.

"What was that about?"

"Well... erm... Jonathan just asked if everything went well... between us..." Neil blushed.

"He knows you're here?"

"He's the reason I came over... he gave me the courage to... y'know... tell you how I feel."

You rolled your eyes and laughed before kissing him deeply. You felt like everything was okay. Now that you had Neil in your arms, you could handle anything that life threw at you. Neil was already planning your wedding in his head as you shared the love between you in a kiss. You wouldn't want it to be anyone else

-

I NEED NEIL LEWIS.... LIKE RIGHT NOW!!! Ugh, I love him so much. Anyway, hope you enjoyed <3

[delespresso]

HONEY TRAP ━━ Jay Halstead x Fem!reader

author's note; finally done with my presentations yippee! can go back to my requests now hehe, also this was kinda short?? idk, i hope its okay!

prompts; Jay Halstead with Hozier "I'll tell you my sins so you can sharpen your knife"

summary; in which jay's undercover and she's told him everything

━━ ☄. *. ⋆

It’s been a month since Jay was sent undercover. Something that was supposed to only last for a week ended up being extended far longer than they’d expected— and there was yet to be an end date in sight. But he’d adapted, he always did.

They knew him as Ryan, the expert in bitcoins and such. The organisation Intelligence had been gunning for was planning a pretty big heist and they needed someone who knew their way around it.

Jay himself was no expert. But he was good at bullshitting. And he learned a thing or two from Mouse to equip his undercover work.

What he never expected was the mob boss’ daughter taking over the heist planning. She became the mastermind, using him for her plans and unknowingly leaking everything to the Chicago police.

Mainly because he ends up in her bed every other night that he's been undercover. It was supposed to be a job — a simple honey trap so they could bust the crew.

But God, she was everything he could ever dream of. But she was the very thing he couldn't have if he wanted to keep his job.

“Your mind's in the clouds again.”

He was brought right back to reality when her sweet voice spoke so quietly. She was right there, on top of him, in nothing but his shirt as she pressed fleeting kisses on his collarbone.

The slightest smile pulled on his lips as he looked down at her, his fingers running through her tousled hair — his very own handiwork.

“Just thinking ‘bout tomorrow,” he muttered, leaning down to press a kiss to her forehead. “You're so sure it's gonna work out.”

She hummed softly, her body molding against his with a soft smile on her face.

“It will. Everything's gonna be fine,” she assured softly.

“And if the cops find out?”

He couldn't tell her. But the cops already knew — Voight had already planned a bust, ready to finally have the crew in cuffs like he'd been planning for months.

All because Jay had told him everything she tells him.

“They won't. I told you everything, just go accordingly,” she shrugged.

It felt like a knife was stabbed and twisted in his gut when she said so surely. She did tell him everything — and he told his team. Because it was his job.

He cupped her face in his hands, making her look at him with a raised brow. For a moment he was just silent, his eyes tracing her sweet features. If only she wasn't the mobster's daughter. If only she wasn't a part of it herself.

He pulled her in, their lips meeting in a languid kiss. Because God knows it might be the last.

He rolled them over so she was on her back, not once releasing her from their kiss. And even this was all he could have of her — he'd make it worthwhile.

By the next afternoon, everything blew to pieces. The crew was getting ready to get the heist done. The other guys were in a separate van, pretending to be technicians coming to fix things.

She was in the passenger seat of another car with Jay driving. He knows Intelligence would be there, busting the whole heist soon. And he made a decision he knew could possibly cost him.

He took a different turn, going the opposite direction of the building they were heading for.

Her head shot up, realising he was diverting.

“Ryan,” she looked at him with raised brows.

“The cops are gonna bust your ass if we go there right now. You need to leave,” he said firmly.

She stared at him in confusion and bewilderment.

“I told you the plan, it's foolproof—”

“You told me the plan and I told my boss.”

She paused at his interruption. He was still driving, focused on the road but he was tense beyond words. Her sudden silence made his heart race faster.

“I'm a cop. I've been undercover for the past month,” he finally spoke again, confirming her silent thoughts.

Then he felt it — the knife against his neck. The cool metal was pressing against his skin and he cursed under his breath.

“I trusted you—”

“I lied. I know. You kill me now, we're gonna crash. Do you want that?” he retorted.

She seemed to consider it. But she didn't move the knife even as he kept driving.

“And how do I know you're not leading me right to them?” she asked.

This time he was the one who went silent. For a moment there, he couldn't say a word. Because really; how can he prove it to her that he won't?

“Because you know how I feel about you. I lied about everything but never that,” he confessed softly, daring a glance at her as he drove.

Then he looked back forward, the cool metal of the blade still glaringly obvious against his skin. She hesitated, considering her options. All their nights together — it wasn't just sex. It became something much more than that.

Slowly, she pulled her knife away. But she didn't keep it.

“Airstrip,” was all she said.

Because now there was no way she could stay in Chicago. So she'd have to disappear. But not without a lingering kiss goodbye — despite the betrayal she felt.

Jay made up an excuse for Voight. Something about her changing her mind and ditching the crew last minute. Intelligence managed to cuff the crew though, all except her. The mastermind.

And something in his gut told him they'd see more of her eventually

liked this tale? be a member and buy me some coffee!

[lvis44]

Sweet Escape - The Wedding Pt.1 // LH44

Lewis Hamilton x Y/N

Warnings: Language, Alcohol Consumption, its really just a whole lot of fluff

Word Count: 1.7k+

Summary: Paradise is supposed to be fun and relaxing... a Sweet Escape, but when unspoken feelings and jealousy rise to the surface, everything can be turned upside down in the blink of an eye.

Notes: The beginning of the long awaited wedding! I have decided I will be releasing this in chunks, I cannot guarantee when each one will be coming but it will all be in the universe soon enough. I love you all and appreciate those of you have been kind and patient, I'm still here y'all I promise. Once again I cannot follow the same tense while writing and this has not been fully edited.

I am not a professional writer and all of this is a work of fiction and is strictly for fun. Enjoy! xxx

Previous Sections: Prologue - Part One - Part Two - Part Three - Part Four - Part Five - Part Six - Part Seven - Part Eight - Epilogue

What if I come and stay until 11:55?” His voice is whiny and desperate, making you laugh.

“Lewis, you have to go before Charlotte and Miles come and drag you.” You tell your pouting fiancé, still laughing at him.

You’re standing outside the fancy restaurant rented for your rehearsal dinner, snow falling around you as people start to clear out. Lewis had been attached to your hip for the last few days, his adoration for you only growing as you two approached your wedding day, The day that you had perfectly planned together.

“Wanna sleep next to you though.” Lewis says quietly, a cheeky smirk on his face as he pulls you against him, his hand traveling down to your bum.

“Lew! My parents are right there.” You whisper shout, grabbing his forearm to move it up to your lower back.

He just laughed, shaking his head before pressing himself against you even firmer, “Seriously, can we stay together just a little while longer? Promise I’ll leave before midnight.”

You could tell his intentions weren’t to sleep and you knew you would be hard pressed to kick him out later in the evening. You’re not a particularly traditional person but you were holding to sleeping apart the night before the wedding, much to his dismay. His mother had been the one to bring it up during wedding planning and while Lewis thought it was a horrible concept you were more than happy to go along, it made her happy and it made everything feel even more real. Two suites had been rented for the night at different hotels, mostly to keep Lewis from sneaking into your bed in the middle of the night.

“Bruv, if you don’t let go of her and come get in the damn car, I will remove you myself.” Miles’ voice boomed from behind you, saving you from having to turn your fiancé down yet again.

You couldn’t help but laugh, knowing Miles and Charlotte were tightly wound, the stress getting to them both as if it was their own wedding. You could see that Lewis was finally accepting defeat, rolling his eyes but nodding to Miles, motioning that he would be there in a second.

“It’s fucking crazy that the next time I see you will be at the altar.” Lewis whispers, looking giddy yet anxious.

“Gonna be Mrs. Hamilton tomorrow!” Your voice was quiet as you tried to hold back your squeal of excitement.

You were beyond elated to be marrying your best friend. When he proposed he had made it very clear that you could be engaged as long as you wanted, that nothing needed to be rushed. Only two years later you were here, ready to marry the love of your life in less than twenty four hours.

“Son, I think Miles is going to explode if we don’t all get going.” You hear Anthony laugh from nearby, evidently amused by the frantic state that Miles was in.

“Okay, okay.” Lewis just laughs, glancing at Miles who was now pacing outside of the black town car.

“I love you, get some sleep, need you in tip top shape tomorrow.” You say to Lewis, leaning up to place a family friendly kiss to his lips as you pat his chest

“Yes ma’am, I love you too.” Lewis mumbles against your lips.

Lewis stares at you for a moment, love pouring out of his dark brown eyes before squeezing your waist once more and walking off toward Miles who looks about ready to shove Lewis into the trunk if it means they’ll leave any quicker. Having said your goodbyes to everyone earlier, you make your way over toward Charlotte where she’s waiting by your own matching town car.

“You look much calmer than Miles was.” You laugh as she makes a ridiculous display of opening the door for you.

“Well thankfully I’m in charge of the much easier spouse,” She giggles, following you into the car, “I knew you’d stick to your guns and send him on his way. Miles on the other hand has about ten different plans of ways to just about lock Lewis in his room, pretty sure a straight jacket is on the table.”

You can’t help but laugh, knowing Lewis will more than likely continue to complain throughout the night. You would be lying if you said you truly didn’t want to be next to him for the night, you always sleep better in his arms, but you know one night away from each other won’t kill either of you, you’ve done it countless times before. It’s been rather adorable to you how clingy Lewis had gotten over the past few weeks, it was rather unlike him but you weren’t going to fight it. You know it’s something he does sometimes when he needs to ground himself, and right now his emotions are at an all time high. There had been a few snafus with decorations and such in the weeks leading up to now, each one seemed to wind him that much tighter, the perfectionist in him struggling.

When you arrived in the suite you were exhausted and ready for your pajamas but knew there was no way you were ready to go to sleep just yet. Your mom was waiting for you in the suite when you arrived, already opening a bottle of wine and urging you and Charlotte to come sit with her, a much needed moment of decompression. You’ve been busy all day; last minute preparations, the wedding rehearsal, the rehearsal dinner with all of both of your families. You were drained yet still so full of adrenaline. Being around Lewis all day had helped immensely, always so in tune with each others moods and needs, more than once he had rescued you from a conversation that felt like it had just gone on too long. It also helped that he was bubbling with excitement and energy, even after so long you frequently questioned where he got it, the level rarely faltering.

It wasn’t long before Charlotte was excusing herself to go get ready for bed, leaving you alone with your mom.

“This is all still so crazy to me.” Your moms voice is quiet and kind.

“Which part?” You laugh, taking a sip of your wine.

“All of it!” You mom says, gesturing into the air, “The fact that my baby is getting married, that her wedding is in a castle, that she’s marrying a man that we watched and admired racing for years, the fact that he’s the love of her life, just all of it.”

You couldn’t help but smile at your moms little rant, because it was true, so much of it felt surreal but everything was perfect.

“I wouldn’t trade any of it for the world.” You tell her softly, sincerely, taking a moment to think back on everything that has happened over the last three years.

Growing up, Sundays were reserved for F1, you and your mom massive Hamilton fans from the very beginning of his career. When you had told her that you had met him she freaked out nearly as much as you originally had, fangirling in a way you had never thought possible. Your dad thought it was impressive too, making a comment about you never leaving the city to come home and visit them now that you were hanging out with celebrities. When you told your parents that you were dating, your mom was incredibly happy for you but never let her admiration of Lewis get in the way of her daughter's well being, she made sure to check in with you frequently, always worried that his distance and status may be taking a toll on you. Your father on the other hand was less than pleased when he first learned about your relationship, preconceived notions about Lewis’ personal life and persona taking over, less than pleased with the age difference between the two of you. It took a while, but Lewis was able to win him over and you’ve never been more grateful for anything, you were desperate for all the people you loved to get along.

Now you had a fiancé who spoke with your father without you needing to be around, a mother who had befriended Lewis’ mother and stepmother and adored him, and were mere hours away from becoming his wife. Life truly does come at you fast.

“You’re ready?” Your mom asked, breaking the silence that had settled in the room.

“I truly don’t think I’ve ever been so ready for something. I’m nervous of course but there’s no one else that I would rather be with for the rest of my life. I’m sure of that.” Your voice was confident as you spoke, meaning every word.

“I’m so glad you found someone so good for you hun, he truly is a dream. Hell, I wish I had met someone like him when I was your age,” Your mom laughed, sending you a wink, “don’t tell your dad I said that.”

“Secrets safe with me,” You giggled back, “but I don’t think there’s another one of him.”

“Not that I’ve ever seen.” Your mom shrugged, the soft smile never leaving her face.

You can’t help but giggle at the conversation you're having with your mother. You’ve never been one to be sappy but the emotions boiling inside of you leading up to your big day are sending you over the edge, truly letting all the cliche thoughts you have about Lewis come to the forefront.

“You, my dear, need to get to bed. You have a long day ahead of you and need to be well rested for your night.” Your mom winked making you groan through a laugh.

“Mom!” You buried your head in your hands.

You and your mom have always been open with each other about every aspect of your life but you didn’t need to hear her joke about you consummating your marriage.

“But truly, you should try to get some sleep.” She laughed at your embarrassment, trying and failing to come off seriously.

“You’re right, I’ll try.” You say, rolling your eyes as you finish off the last of the wine in your glass

[slutforwwewomen]

Fantasy (Ghostface)

Part One.

LivMorgan X Fem!Reader X RheaRipley

Warnings - Mentions of blood, knife’s, all that stuff. you can’t watch horror movies, then I’d suggest not to read this. Eventual smut at some point.

Summary - Weird things have been happening lately. You keep getting calls from unknown numbers, every time you answer it, there’s just heavy breathing. Until finally, they speak up.

___________________________

Murder.

That’s what is happening in my small town. As long as I’ve lived here, I’ve never known of anything like this to happen.

Maybe a few robberies here and there, but nothing like this.

What makes this even worse is that I’ve been receiving calls from these unknown numbers. Heavy breathing and sometimes this…low pitched growl noise.

I’ve been wondering if this could be the killer, but I always come to a point where I believe it’s just some kids prank calling, trying to scare others.

I work morning shift at my job, meaning I get off later during the day. I work at the diner owned by my mom and dad. I’ve always been here with them, so I know pretty much all of our customers.

Except for the few drunken truck drivers who pass through here and there.

As my shift ends, I tell my parents goodnight and I clock out. I walk outside to my car, get in and go to crank it up.

But...

It wasn't starting.

"Shit!" | screamed.

All I wanted was to go home and get some sleep.

Tomorrow is halloween. So the diners gonna be busy and I have to fix up some of the decorations out front.

I pull my phone out, seeing if I can call a taxi to come and get me.

I get a call.

"UNKNOWN NUMBER" again..

"Hello?" I say aloud.

No response. Only loud, heavy breathing.

The deep breathing was the only response I was getting. No words, no hello, no greeting...Just the breathing.

“Hello?” I say again.

“You know... you're not supposed to answer calls at this hour..” A voice finally speaks up. Its deep. Raspy.

“Who is this?” I ask.

“No no.. I ask the questions.” The person says to me.

The voice chuckled a bit, before clearing their throat. “Do you like scary movies, Lorelei?”

“How do you know my name?”

“Nuh uh, answer the fucking question bitch.” The voice says to me.

“No- What? Why does it-Just..please stop calling me!” I hang up.

My heart dropped. What the fuck was that.

I try my car one more time.

It finally cranks.

I don’t think I’ve ever drove home faster. As soon as I stepped in the door, I slammed it shut and made sure to lock it. I went around, checking my windows and doors..making sure no one could open them.

I was scared shitless.

I sit down on my couch, trying to calm myself down.

“It’s just a prank, that’s all.” I said to myself, breathing in and out.

After about 15 minutes of repeating this and breathing in and out, I go upstairs to my bedroom. Ready to wash this day away.

I grab my clothes, and walk to my bathroom.

I shut the door behind me, making sure to lock it as I was still paranoid, and placed my clothes on the sink. I turn the water on in the shower, steam immediately beginning to fill the air. I get undressed and step in.

I begin washing my hair, but suddenly I hear the bathroom door knob wiggling as if someone is attempting to open it.

I shrugged it off, thinking it’s just my mind playing tricks on me.

But it happens again.

This time, I stick my head out, watching the doorknob rattle.

I turn the water off slowly.

Suddenly, loud banging on the door begins.

I scream but cover my mouth immediately, as if the person doesn’t know I’m in here.

“I know you’re in there. I can hear you.” This person speaks out behind the door.

I look at the counter, my phone not there as I left it in the bedroom.

“Shit!” I scream.

“Ahhh there you are.” Says the person.

The banging and rattling begins again.

I rush out of the shower. Grabbing my clothes and throwing them on.

I was not about to die naked.

“Open the door. I’m not gonna hurt you. Come on..I just want to have a little fun, yeah?”

Holding back tears, I run and stand on my toilet, trying to open the window that sits above it.

My heart rapidly beating, palms becoming sweaty. Filled with instant panic, fear for my life.

I finally get it open, but the only thing is, I’m on the second floor.

Suddenly the door is broken down, a tall black figure rushing at me with a knife.

I decide to take the risk, I jump out of the window. Landing on the patch of grass next to my driveway.

The land twisted my knee but I can’t stop due to that. I get up and run as fast as I can to a nearby house, banging on the door.

“PLEASE HELP, THERES SOMEONE AFTER ME! HELLO? PLEASE!!!” I scream whilst banging on the door.

The door opens up, an older lady asking me if I’m alright.

I beg her to call the cops, too tell them someone’s in my house, and she does just so.

She sat me on her couch, wet and all. She gives me a towel and a blanket, telling me the cops should be arriving soon.

Small Time Jump!

After arriving at the hospital, the nurses put me in a room. Checking me out to make sure I’m okay, also checking my knee to see what happened. When the nurses are done, the cops follow in after them.

The cops sit down, now asking me questions about what happened exactly.

I tell them everything I knew. Including the calls I thought may have been random kids.

After about an hour of talking with the cops, they leave me be.

Sometime after, my mom and dad came in.

She ran into my arms, tears immediately falling from both of our eyes.

Everything felt okay at the moment.

“Baby I’m so glad you’re okay.” My mom says.

My dad following behind her. “Me too.” He too comes up to me and hugs me.

“I was so scared..” I speak up, my voice slightly raspy due to my screaming.

“You’ll be okay baby. You’re a strong girl.” My mom caresses my face with her hand.

I nod my head.

“Are you hungry?” My dad asks. “I can run to the diner and make you something?”

“Uhm- Yeah. I am. Thank you, dad.” I smile at him.

He nods to me and then walks out.

“I’m gonna go find a restroom, hunny. I’ll be right back, okay?”

I smile at my mom and nod in affirmation.

After my mom walked out, the nurse followed in after her. “Your mom’s on the line.”

My mom?

It was probably my dad, using mom’s phone.

I pick the phone up. “Hello? Dad?” I ask.

A deep voice responds. “Guess again.”

No.

Oh god.

“What do you want from me..” I ask, tears once again forming in my eyes.

“All I want is for you to answer my questions. Can you do that?

“You’re not gonna leave me alone are you?” I question.

“That all depends on your answers.” The person says. “Tell me, Lorelei..Do you like scary movies?”

“Mhm”

“What’s your favorite..scary movie?”

I answer, holding back my tears and sobs. “I- It’s..The Exorcist.”

The killer lets out a slight laugh. “Good pick.” They say.

“I’ll start you off on some easy questions okay? Let’s say a…practice round, yeah?”

“Okay.” I mumble out.

“Friday the 13th. How did Jason die?”

“I- he uhm…I don’t-..” I get cut off.

“Oh come on..don’t say you don’t know? Think, Lori.”

“Drowned. He drowned!” I say.

“Ding ding ding! Correct!”

“Just a couple more..When did the original IT movie come out?

“1990! I know this one!” I say. Getting a bit more confident in myself.

“Mhm, good job, alright.. last one, What is the song played at the beginning of Halloween II?”

“Mr Sandman! Yes, I know this one!” I scream slightly.

“Wow! Someone knows their stuff…” The person says.

“I won right?! Did I win?” I ask.

“Oh no no..that was just the practice round, remember?”

“Time for the real round. What item did Nancy pull out of her dream in Nightmare of Elm Street?”

“What? I- how am I supposed to know this? I don’t..”

“Don’t leave me hanging Lori! Come on…I’m sure you know it.”

“I don’t- I’ve never seen that movie! Please.”

“What’s the answer lori?”

“I don’t know!”

“Is that your final answer?”

“I- fuck!” I hang up the phone.

I get up off the hospital bed and try to run to the hallway, but suddenly I’m grabbed.

“You hung up in my face Lorelei! That’s not very nice…”

The killer grabs my face, shoving a rag in my face.

One second I’m awake.

The next, I’m not.

A/N - Hi again! This is only part one to the story, if it seems a bit rushed, that’s cause it is. I wrote this quickly, just to see and get a feel of what I really wanted. I promise part two will be much much better!

[mintmatcha]

cw: cisfem reader, reader is part gnome, reader wears glasses, sacrilege,

One, two, three. You swirl the last bits of tea counterclockwise and let the bits settle into shapes, order forming from the chaos.

"Are you trying to read the tea leaves?"

You peek up over your glasses. Holm is watching you, head resting against one hand. His cheek is smooshed forward so far that his eye is forced closed in an exhausted wink, and you can't help but smile back at him.

"Maybe."

"Using my blessed tea? My holy herbs?" He frowns, mouth comically down turned, a upside-down U. "That's sacrilege."

You tilt the mug his way. "So you don't want to know what they say?"

That earns you a soft smile, warm and fleeting. It ends with a sigh. "Only if it's good."

It isn't. The leaves tell you of bad decisions, of regrets and heartbreak. You spin your cup once more and watch it all turn to flurries.

"Things are always good with you."

"Hm." He reminds you of a cat, emotions reserved and measured, lips lifted in the middle by his short philtrum. "Hm, hm."

You hadn't intended to end up here, but a couple glasses of wine and a couple bad decisions led you right to his door, a moth to flame. When he answered the door, you told him the inn was full, that other friend's places were too far. It was an obvious lie, but he let you in anyway, made you tea and threw wood on the fire.

He stirs his spoon until his tea swirls, spoon never touching the mug's edge. It's silent, methodical, perhaps a bit soothing.

"The neighbors are going to talk, though." Holm stays placid, voice soft. The silken fabric of his sleep clothes are wrinkled only on one side-- he side he sleeps on, you imagine. "I'm not supposed to be alone with a woman after dark."

He's more devout than most in this part of the country. Prayer at sun rise and sun down, a diet free of meats and alcohol, perfect celibacy; he's the paradigm. Common doesn't have the correct word for the position; monk, priest, shaykh: none of them are quite correct, but close enough that most get the idea.

A holy man.

Certainly someone that shouldn't be having you stay the night.

"They won't." You tilt your mug side to side and the dregs of tea leaves, still wet, catch the light. The shapes change and shift. They still aren't good. "The neighbors know you wouldn't do anything."

"They don't know that." Holm hums. "I// don't know that."

There's a dwindling silence between you, a tension you can't cut through. The unspeakable thing between you grows.

"If something was going to happen between us, it would have already happened."

The fire catches in his eyes as he looks your way, bouncing from one eye to the other, then down to your mouth. He lingers there for a long moment, lids so heavy that you finally understand how thought can be sin-

"Let me get your bed set up."

You take his mug to the sink as he goes down the hall, rustling in closets. The house's quiet is heavy and hearty, so thick you can't swallow it down.

"You can take my bed tonight." He calls down the hall. "Mickbell and Kuro didn't clean the futon last time they stayed over and it's covered in hair."

A headache is already starting to thrum at your temples. Tomorrow, you'll regret all of this, but tonight, you can blame the alcohol.

"I'm not going to ask you to do that."

Holm comes from his bedroom and just shakes his head. You don't fight it; the fire is low and the sun is only a couple hours away.

Even if it wasn't, you'd still stay.

"The sheets are fresh." He musses his hair and its delightfully fluffed, red touched brown has reminds you of your family's old hunting dog. "I'll sleep out here, so I don't wake you in the morning."

Neither of you move. The last bits of fire are dying in the hearth, painting shadows long. Darkness is threatening to engulf you both, swallow you whole, and you use the last bits of light to admire him and his casual, understated beauty-

"Don't." Holm's voice is brittle.

"Don't what?"

"Don't do it."

"I don't know what you're talking about."

"You do." Neither of you move. "It's why you came here."

Your eyes are better than his in the dark. You can see how he seeks you on in the darkness, eyes slightly narrowed.

"My Gods are important to me." His brow is knitted firmly, but his mouth is soft, open. "My spirit is important to me."

"I know."

"If you start, I don't know if I'm strong enough to stop."

He steps closer. "So, don't." Another step forward, until you can feel the glimmer of mana around him. "We can't."

"Okay," you say. "I won't."

"Don't tempt me."

"I'm not."

"Good."

There's only a singular moment before he breaks. He draws you in like a breath, hands clumsily finding your cheeks and cupping them forcefully. The kiss itself is messy, with his nose bumping into your cheek and his lips missing yours, but he takes corrections well. You tilt your head slightly and he meets you there, mouth slotting into yours. You busy yourself with the front of his shirt, undoing just enough buttons to slide your hands against the warm, soft skin of his chest.

The kiss remains chaste, just the friction of skin against skin, until you part your lips more and more, him chasing the contact with wanton want--

Your tongue slides against his and he moans, unabashedly and unembarrassed, into your mouth. Holm pulls back, panting so hard that his chest bumps into yours.

"You-" He swallows, glancing down. His hands slide down your shoulders and to your chest, cupping them clumsily, meekly, hopefully- "You taste like wine."

And he dives in again to suck on your tongue.

The rest is a flurry. Your head spins, your chest aches like it might burst, and Holm keeps kissing you with that earnest, amateur passion that makes your heart sing. Your glasses are knocked halfway off of your face, drooping off your nose. Holm walks your down the hall step by step, in between gasps of breath and nips of teeth, until the cool down of his bed presses against your back.

His bed is fluffy pillows, white sheets, and down. They smell like musk and like they were dried in the sun,

Holm breaks away for a moment, jagged breath against your cheek. His tired eyes are barely open, but they still watch you with a gentle admiration.

"You look like an angel."

Your heart drops. No, this isn't holy. Not at all.

"Oh, Holm." You place a hand on his shoulder and push him away right before his lips find yours again. "We can't do this."

He doesn't move, but you can feel the resistance drain from his muscles.

"I'm choosing you," he whispers. "I know what doing this means and I'm choosing you."

He reaches for your cheek, pleading.

"Let me choose you." Holm's touch is heartbreakingly fleeting. "Let me worship you."

You almost break. You want to break.

"I can't let you do that."

[moonshine-nightlight]

NWWD: Divergent Revelations 2

Side story for NWWD, AU starting mid Chapter 23. Fanfic of my own story that asks: what if an honest conversation was had earlier? (spoiler: slow burn is much less slow)

During the fight with assassins, you and Dale are forced to confront the truth of what you each know about Dale's nature. How does the fight change to have this come about? How will the conversation about these revelations go when there's still more than a week before the wedding?

Main Story 'Nothing's Wrong with Dale': [Part One]

Status: Complete

AO3: NWWD: Divergent Revelations

[Part One] Part Two

You murmur as polite a ‘good night’ as you can to your maid before your door finally shuts, blocking out the rest of the Governor’s house, with all its people who can’t stop asking you question after question, hovering over you. Blessed silence fills your bed chamber. You lean back against that now shut door and try to breathe. Grandmother’s going to be alright, you remind yourself, no one seems to suspect Dale. He simply…hasn’t returned yet.

You tried to apologize to Grandfather for not anticipating that Dale would go after Two, but he’d waved off your ‘sorry’s with a worn, but sincere smile. His absolution was appreciated as was the way he seemed to have left all suspicion behind. Still you knew you’d not feel better until you saw Dale once again.

That’s holding true now. The waiting and hours you passed have been valiantly fought through with your highest caffeinated tea, but you were shuffled away to your private chambers after the last strike of the clock, though you can’t remember how many it was.

Nervous energy still buzzes through your veins, a heady mix of worry and adrenaline that makes you want to pace or hide or do something, anything useful. Instead, you walk over to your vanity where an array of candles is, their light reflected back and throughout the room. Aided by the full moon, your room is lit as well as it ever could be so deep into the night. 

Halfheartedly, you pick at the bowl of nuts and dried fruit your maid had persuaded you to take with you. You itch to have those books of Dale’s Bilmont had snuck to you, but they’re all back in Northridge. Neither of you had wanted to alert Dale to your perusal nor risk being found with them by keeping them for days or traveling with them, but if you did have the books then maybe you could prepare to do something in case Dale was hurt in a manner that could not be treated by a doctor.

He’d come to you, right? If he needed help? It’s all out in the open now. What you both already knew but still had pretended not to. Although, as long as he could control himself, he should go to the trained physician. But what if someone else found him? What if this had all been a trick by Two to get Dale to go somewhere else where a trap lay in wait? What if Dale had won, but was injured and vulnerable out in the night somewhere? What if Two manages to possess Dale? What if—

You sit down heavily on your vanity chair, shaking your head to try to dissipate such dire thoughts. Dale had been winning the fight, had managed to drive Two off, and had seemed to have no true injuries when he went after them. Morning would come. Dale will have returned while you slept and he will be fine. He has to be.

You look into the mirror, past and behind yourself to the bed. Speaking of sleep, you’ve no idea how you’ll manage it tonight. You suppose you could brew some sleepy tea, but would that truly work when you still feel your anxiety and nerves as significantly as you do? With the effects of your caffeinated tea still going? Do you even want to sleep? 

You know you should. It’s what you had told the others you would do. It's what you would have told yourself to do, if you were another person. It's the best course of action so you are well rested and ready to face tomorrow. Nothing good will come of worrying away the hours deeper into the night.

Yet you know yourself. You’ll not be able to manage it. Taking the tea would only leave you in a half-asleep state, constantly drifting off and waking from nightmares you’d not be able to tell from reality. 

Not wanting to bother moving the candles from in front of the large mirror at your vanity, you instead go to your desk and bring over your journal with the magnifier. Setting them up, you turn to a fresh page. The most useful thing you can think to do is to write down everything you can remember the assassins said so as to better find who hired them. Given the layers of who can know what, you decide to write down the truth in your personal shorthand, knowing between your handwriting and the few changes you made, it’ll be nigh indecipherable to anyone but you. It should be the best way to keep the actual facts straight for yourself so you can discuss with Dale, or obfuscate with Grandfather and Grandmother. Most of what Two said will only make sense if you know what Dale is and you’ll not be the one to ruin the facade.

You concentrate on getting everything down while managing your flickering light. The sound of your door closing takes a second to register. The next second has you on your feet, your hand dropping your pen in favor of your busk knife. You whirl towards the door, heart hammering in your chest.

A dark figure, more outline than person given how far they are from the miniscule light, is all you can make out. For a split second, you’re convinced Two has come back for you, until another step closer finally allows you to distinguish, “Dale!” 

You drop your hand to the table, body sagging in relief, both at the lack of threat and the confirmation he’s alive. “You frightened me half-to-death!”

“My apologies,” Dale replies, voice low and wary, but unmistakably his own.

You beckon him closer, needing a better look even if many of your fears are assuaged with his presence. “Are you alright? What happened?”

He comes more fully into your circle of light and you can see he has no obvious wounds, only a small bandage on his jaw. “I already spoke to Grandfather and the doctor.” You step closer as he speaks, hand drifting up to the bandage. “I’ve no serious injuries, only some bruisings and cuts. I caught up to Two and ensured they’ll do us no more harm.”

“Are you certain?” Your eyes search his form, noting his damaged jacket is nowhere to be seen. No blood stains or broken bones are obvious. Still, there could be damage under the surface, your eyes on his torso and then up to that single bandage. “The stonework was strong and Two was very adept at—”

“Yes, I am sure.” Dale catches your hand before you can touch him. 

Heat rises to your cheeks at the reminder of your impropriety, which only mounts as you fully realize that Dale is alone with you, in your bedchambers, at night. No one to see him here. Complete privacy. You in your nightclothes and robe, he in only a shirt and trousers. “Good,” you manage before you attempt to clear your throat. What do demons care of human impropriety? Dale’s played along well enough, but he’s not beholden to such petty sensibilities. “I’m relieved.”

“Yes,” Dale murmurs, continuing to stare at you as if you might be the one who needs a physical. “You do truly appear to be.”

“What…?” You blink up at him confused. Some of your concern fades to frustration. You give him an incredulous look. “Of course, I am. It was a foolish thing to chase after Two into the night. Who knows what they might have done to you.” Did he think himself infallible? Or you too oblivious to notice the toll the fight took on him? “I’ve been worried.”

“Curious,” Dale says, tilting his head to the side. His eyes begin to glow. A third one pops open on his forehead. The shadows cast by your candles gutter. “I’ve never had a human express such concern over me. Not when they knew what I was.” He blinks and all his eyes focus on you. “Yet, you appear sincere.”

“Oh,” your voice is small, but you’ve no notion of how to respond, how to actually have this conversation.

“I was not sure what I would be returning to,” Dale confesses, his voice lower and quieter. Instinctively, you lean closer to hear him better. You hold your breath to see what else he might say, now that it appears you are finally addressing the elephant in the room. “Would you have told Grandfather and the Captain? Would they greet me only to catch me in a binding circle?”

“What?” Your stomach drops at the mere thought. “No, of course not.” Alarm rises with your nerves, that Dale might still worry of this outcome. As if he still thought it a possibility for you to have done so. Does he think so little of your regard for him? Has he not understood where you stand despite your attempts to make that clear? You turn your wrist in his grasp and he lets you, but seems surprised when you clasp it more securely in your own. “Dale, I’d never—I don’t plan on revealing you. I thought that’d be obvious.”

Dale looks down at your hand on his and just as you start to worry it had been the wrong move, he turns his own in your grasp to hold your hand in return. “I suppose that appears to be the case.” His gaze moves from your fingers to tentatively meet your gaze. “It does not illuminate why you would do such a thing.”

“I…” you struggle for how to articulate your thoughts. Somehow all your imagined conversations with Dale had been focused on him and his secrets, motivations, thoughts—not your own. “I am aware that perhaps my actions appear…unusual.” You do your best to rally your thoughts and Dale lets you, no haste or frustration in his stance or expression. That patience helps you say, “However, you’ve never acted in a manner that made me worry for my safety or the safety of others. You have not tried to do harm to those around us, physically or with the power you could wield as heir to Northridge.” 

You stare down at your hand and his, unable to keep track of your thoughts when your eyes are locked on his. The flickering candlelight reflects strangely in his blue eyes that he looks more demonic than usual, but also more striking. You want him to think well of you, but you don’t want him to doubt your sincerity. “I’d not known the first Dale for very long. I think I’ve known you longer now. I confess, I had concerns about that Dale, prior to your arrival.” 

You chance a glance up at him and see some surprise in his expression. You’re rather pleased to have been able to surprise him since he’s managed to do the same to you at so many turns. Hopefully, like you, he doesn’t find the surprise bad. “Human concerns, but significant ones. The worries I have for you are different, but less.”

“Truly?” Dale’s voice contains even more of the surprise you’d seen in his face earlier, but no doubt or disbelief. “How could a human, who has always been who he is, worry you more than a stranger in his body?”

“Lord Dale was…arrogant, entitled, and selfish,” you admit, remembering back to your first talk with him. You remember your first meeting with Grandfather and with the other prospects that came up. “And he was the best marriage offer I received.” You frown, trying to articulate why you’d taken a chance with that Dale, aware now that you’re relieved more than anything that he’d been replaced in the end. “I believed he would consider me to be… an extension of himself in a manner that would shield me from some of his faults, so long as I did not interfere with his goals. However, that is certainly not a stable place to begin a marriage, although I had considered it worth the risk at the time.”

“And myself?” Dale asks softly.

You smile to yourself because how often had you asked yourself the same thing: about him and about why he might tolerate you. “You were an unknown,” you say slowly, “in so many ways—I admit you still are. However, you’ve not shown that callous self-interest. You appear… interested in m—the thoughts of others, dutiful to Northridge in a manner I recognize in myself.” You’d been preparing to take up the mantle of Northridge’s care yourself. You’d liked the idea of such a challenge, to an extent. You were eager to prove yourself. To be the one in control of your life. But it would have been lonely and you would have had to juggle Dale’s own plans for the fief. You hadn’t thought there was a better option other than hoping perhaps the original Dale might come around. That isn’t your worry with this Dale.

You take a deep breath and look back up at him. “You did not have to stay and playact the role Dale handed you with his identity. You could have left with his body to strike out on your own.” You hate how much the thought fills you with true fear, not just trepidation or frustration as might have before you got to know this Dale. If he has been genuine with you, you would fear for him out in the world on his own. “I don’t know if you still might do so, but that is my worry, not that you’ll mismanage what you have. I simply feel there is more common ground between us than between myself and the original Dale.” You swallow, suddenly all too aware you’ve been speaking for what feels like ages on end without Dale saying a word. You reach with your free hand to brush some of your hair behind your ear. “That could all be wishful thinking on my side. We’ve not had many chances for honest conversation, excepting now, I suppose.”

Dale finally blinks and stares down at you in a sort of confusion that you hope is fond and not frustrated. “I did not know what to expect when I arrived on the surface,” he confesses slowly, “though I was relieved not to have to contest for autonomy. My recovery from the ordeal was when I knew I would be most vulnerable and thought I might be discovered, necessitating my departure.” His fingers tighten briefly around your own before a small smile spreads across his face. “Thank you again, for your aid.

“I was relieved to be able to stay. I’ve no plans to leave unless forced.” Dale looks past you briefly, to the candles and the mirror behind you. “I have spent my life searching for a stable territory—a home.” His eyes fix on yours once more. “I’ve not had much in the way of surviving family and so find myself inclined to appreciate Grandmother and Grandfather, particularly with Dale’s memories.” His eyes unfocus as if viewing those memories now.

You allow him some time and shortly Dale pulls himself out of those thoughts with a rueful shake of his head. “The memories are both outside of myself and of myself in a rather confusing manner. I’ve not the language or nuance to explain well, truth be told. All of Northridge feels as if it was waiting for me and I’d be a fool not to seize the opportunity. Even you,” he strokes his thumb across the back of your hand, sending a thrill through you, “a lovely mate, was here, like a delightful dream. I’ve not earned any of this,” Dale continues, looking a bit sheepish, a bit chagrined, and a bit like he’s expecting your judgment. “And yet, I’ve had enough ill fortune in my life not let a stroke of good pass me by.”

Your relief at hearing him say he plans to stay is only matched by your understanding. “Even with his flaws, Dale had appeared to be good luck to me at the time. Now, you seem to suit me far better as a partner. Strange as it is to say, I was sometimes more convinced there must be a trick about when I felt we understood each other. It seemed too fortunate.” You take another deep breath as you try to think of what words might solidify Dale’s decision to stay with you, to be with you. The memory of the way he’d said your name only hours ago, the layers of meaning he’d somehow communicated, gives you the strength to say, “For what it's worth, if you’ve been sincere and wish to stay, to be Dale of Northridge, then I’m happy you are here above any other.”

“I have,” Dale is quick to say, catching your other hand in his. He brings your hands in his together and up, dusting your knuckles with a kiss, “and I do. I feel the same.” Your breath catches in your throat. Your heart hammers in your chest due to the warmth and release of tension you feel because you believe him. That Dale might want this too, with you, is hardly more than you can conceive. You haven’t even had to convince and persuade and demonstrate the value of such an arrangement over months as you’d begun to plan for first Dale. Weeks of uncertainty melt away in the face of his straightforward words. You must be smiling like a fool, but you don’t care.

Dale tilts his head to the side, bemused. “Is that common, among human pairs, to understand each other so quickly? Is that why these strange methods are employed? I admit many aspects of human society elude me, including mating rituals.”

“Not all do, but that is the hope of most,” you reply, before leaning forward, unable to help your curiosity. “Wh—” You wince when the movement jars your back and Dale frowns. You absentmindedly pull your clothes away from your bruised back. “Apologies, I am still somewhat sore after this evening's events.”

Dale glances around before leading you over to your bed. “Let us sit.”

“You were the one who fought,” you protest weakly, but the image of Dale on your bed is very enticing. Since you still have your curtains open by the bed, the moonlight has the opportunity to lend strength to the blue-ness of his eyes. You still feel some of the echo of adrenaline brimming in your veins, but it has nowhere to go with the night so late and Dale finally within reach. 

“And I am tired as well,” he agrees, giving a little tug to your hand before sitting down himself as if to be a good example. 

You’re certain that’s true and you’ve no real objection. If anything the mild impropriety makes your stomach flutter excitedly. You carefully sit down beside him, arranging your robe as you do so with only one hand, not wanting to let go of Dale quite yet. He’s only just come back to you.

He turns, bringing his knee up onto the bed in order to face you better as you tuck yourself against the footboard for stability. Dale looks boyish in such a pose. With some of the excitement and fear out of the way, your conversation begins to remind you more of sneaking between dormitory rooms at school. 

You try to bring your mind back to the conversation you were having instead of childish conversations and not so childish games. “How does courting work for your… society?”

Dale smiles, a little crooked, like he too finds your description of anything demonic as a ‘society’ amusing. “Truthfully, there are many varieties in how different demons approach such matters. Perhaps the original strange thing to me was how many humans approach it the same.”

“There is variety,” you consider, actually giving it some thought. So much of your life had built to where you were now, you’d not contemplated the process itself since you were a child. Primarily, fears about your ability to participate at all were what had dominated your thoughts then. “That variety tends to be geographic, however a culture evolved. This continent was once under the rule of a single large empire, before it fractured and so shares certain traits across country borders. The continent to the direct south is similar within itself. To the east across the Narrow Sea, there is still one empire. Only the more distant continents were never united—to my knowledge—and so I believe have a greater variety to their customs.”

“I see,” Dale nods. “The Depths is a very…scattered and varied place, physically and among demons themselves. No one group of any kind has ever controlled a large portion, not in the history I’m aware of. Still, there are trends among similar demons or those who live close to one another, customs that bleed into one another. The demons I am most familiar with either live in tight-knit clans and generally don’t mate outside of it or are solitary. Both consider time to become familiar with each other a critical component.”

You nod. “Many people who end up marrying have known each other all their lives, due to circumstances, or because they were neighbors, or because their parents decided years ago to link their families and lands.” Pivoting since you’re not sure demons have nobility, you continue, “According to those I know who aren’t nobility, that’s also far more common among the common people. Nobility enjoys overthinking, or at least that’s what my father says. A lot of marriage decision making is based on utility, alliances, and finances—not to mention tradition and honor. Tolerance of one's spouse is the expectation with companionship over time. Partnership or true affection as an ideal to hope for. Although, it is custom to play at appearing happily situated, regardless of one's internal feelings on the matter.”

“Surely you had more options than Dale,” the demon with his name protests, as if he’d been meaning to make the argument since you first mentioned such a thing and could no longer contain himself. “Sometimes his thoughts or memories—impressions of people or situations—occur to me. I admit I dislike many of them. I disagree with many of them.”

You’d known this was part of how demonic possession worked but it was still strange to hear of. “I’m certain his of me were not flattering nor were there many of them—one of the few commonalities we had was likely our rather poor opinion of each other,” you confess. “I doubt he suspected my true feelings. He agreed to marry me because he needed to in order to inherit, because I seemed amenable to his influence. Not to mention because I came with a larger than is typical dowry for a fifth child. I’m sure he thought me generally acceptable, if a bit disappointing—he told me as much. However, that was his fault for letting rumors reach the ears of potential spouses or at least their parents.”

The way Dale tightens his lips, but doesn’t disagree confirms your suspicions. He gives a small huff before saying, “Yes, I can recall. He was quite frustrated with the reputation he’d found when he made his way back home. At the very least he wished he’d been able to marry before they spread. I think he’d underestimated how many would not want to be associated with demonic research. Not to mention the more dramatic tales of carousing he and his compatriots got up to on their tour.” He rolls his eyes as he continues to list reasons why Dale’s marriage prospects had diminished. “How many of them would pair off with each other as they did, and so on. He believed he could have turned his reputation around in order to have a spouse he saw as more…” Dale winces, clearly trying to find the least offensive word, before giving up, “worthy, but was aware such an endeavor would take time he did not want to spend.”

“Yes,” you acknowledge because isn’t that what you suspected all along? In some ways it's hard to care much about what the original Dale thought, not when he was dead, but you find you hate the idea of echoes of those thoughts sounding through this Dale’s head. You care about his opinion. You want him to think well of you. You push those fears aside to focus on the conversation you are having. “In that way, we were compatible. We did confirm what we expected from this marriage along with what was required for our engagement to be initiated. It's simply that those items of import were easily discovered on paper and with minimal interaction in person.”

“You were engaged before you met,” Dale says, shaking his head in either disbelief or disapproval. “Truly mystifying.”

“What sort of traits are valued in your courtships?” you ask, wanting to meet him where you could. Everything so far has been how humans do such things. You want him to feel comfortable with you and your relationship. You want a chance to show him Dale’s lingering thoughts shouldn’t matter to him. You can’t find more time to spend together with the wedding so close. You can’t change how you only met shortly ago, but hopefully there are other elements you could honor. “I would be happy to participate in any rituals I could, as we have fulfilled the majority of the human ones already.”

Dale blinks at you with such surprise you worry for a second that you might have just made a foolish offer. Since you were in fact referring to demonic rituals that was likely a given. No, you remind yourself, you trust Dale. Dale closes his mouth within a second or two, and admits, almost ruefully, “In truth, many such questions and information have already been answered. What would take demons time and trust to reveal, humanity seems more free with, particularly over these last few weeks of intensity and socializing. My parents courted for years but saw each other far less than we have over the course of that time.”

“What sorts of things?” you can’t help but press, eager for anything to work with.

“General compatibility,” Dale begins to list with a shrug, “socialization, familial connections, and expectations. The majority of courtship negotiations for my parents was spent on territory and fitness to defend said territory, with the others learned as that progressed.”

“If the ability to defend territory is a sought after quality,” you say, wanting to fidget out of self-consciousness and holding still out of sheer self-determination, “I must be sorely lacking as a candidate.”

Dale immediately shakes his head. “No, it is a balance. I trained to fight and defend. It is a skill I can bring, not one that I expected any partner to possess. I would not have refused such a mate, but I hadn’t been seeking one out either. The terms of survival are different on the Surface.”

He leans back, bracing himself on one hand as he frowns in concentration. You resist the urge to lean after him, to maintain any closeness you’ve gained. He looks so distant in the moonlight, foreign with his demonic eyes on full display—there are two more than before—and with shadows moving as if in a gentle breeze around him. “My parent had staked out a large territory in alliance with another demon, who died soon before they met my mother. They were initially very hostile to the others settling nearby, including her. She managed to negotiate with them for her smaller spot and slowly they came to see they would enjoy being together. Since my parent had a lot of territory, my mother had to prove her worth as a defender. Even my parent had to prove their territory borders were sustainable with all the new interlopers.”

You try to even picture such an existence. It seems so solitary. You had often felt lonely as a child, and even after, but there were always people around, you simply didn’t have any connections with them. You weren’t actually alone. Perhaps you are missing something. “And it was just them?”

“Yes,” Dale replies, eyes softening as if he could hear your true question. “Shades are generally solitary and while my mother came from a clan, she preferred solitude as well. That was one reason for her departure.”

“And you’re a shade?” He certainly seems to be one, given his facility with shadows. Had he spent so much of his life in similar solitude? “The past few weeks of gatherings must have been overwhelming for you.” He’d not seemed to be. However, perhaps he was a better actor than you’ve given him credit for. He was coming from such a different place of experience.

Dale shook his head. “I’m only part-shade and even so, I’ve always enjoyed being around others. I’ve been to the Surface before and know how close you all tend to live.” It was so odd to hear him acknowledge all this out loud, to hear him say “you all” and know he meant “humans”. That he wasn’t included with them. “Even in the Depths I traveled, as many young demons do before they settle on their own territory. I have worked with others and even temporarily joined a handful of clans. Nothing ever fit or stuck. My first time on the Surface, as chaotic and overwhelming and confusing as it was, felt right. After one final attempt in the Depths to find a place to suit me failed, I knew what I wanted was up here.”

You want to ask for every detail, for every nuance and failed alliance he alludes to. At the same time, you don’t want to scare him off, by asking for more than he feels comfortable revealing. If you’ve already rushed the timing, you don’t want to push even more, not at the risk of driving him away. You want to hold this new honesty with both hands and protect it. You want to never let it go. In the end, you settle on a sincere, but generic, “I confess, the tales of the Depths make it sound fearsome,” in the hopes that he’ll tell more if he wished, but would not feel pressured if he did not.

“It is.” Dale has closed all of his eyes, clearly remembering. “It is lonely and dangerous.” He blinks open his eyes and they’re glowing once more, enhanced by the strong moonlight that falls on his face. “There are dangers here too, but so many more opportunities and ways of living. Not merely survival.”

You shake your head. “I’ve no notion of such a life. I’m pleased you are here and that we can offer you that.” Today has more than proven that Dale can defend himself and that you are certainly winning no accolades in such an arena, and yet you feel protective of him. You want to shield him from the harsh life he clearly led before this, fighting for so much of his life. You want to make a home where he can rest and enjoy life.

“Thank you,” Dale smiles, as if your simple words mean something to him. “I admit I’d been prejudiced against informing you of my true nature due to past experience.” 

He said he had been on the Surface before. You recall his trepidation, his fear as you now recognize it, both in the aftermath of the destroyed study and even when he first was in your rooms. What experience might that have been to caution him so? 

“It is freeing to be able to speak of this with you,” Dale continues with a smile you reflexively return. “To feel there is no curtain of confusion between us. My own hope had been for such a mate, a confidant.” You squeeze the hand still clasped with his because that is all you wanted as well. He squeezes back. “I’m not sure how we got here while taking such a stilted and quite frankly, human route. It is so far from what I would have expected and gone by so quickly.”

“The time has flown,” you agree, “and yet it also seems a lifetime ago I stood in your rooms after the incident and tried to meet you anew.”

Dale looks startled. “Did you know even then?” He runs his free hand through his hair, baffled. “But we’d no chance to truly even meet, for me to demonstrate any sort of trustworthiness. You knew then?”

“I suspected then,” you correct. “You were strange, but kind. It seemed very unlike the Dale I had only just started to get to know. He’d been acting oddly the night he must have summoned you. He did set the summoning in motion himself, yes?” Dale nods, still wide-eyed with interest and surprise. The effect is compounded by the five eyes he has with which to look back at you. “I knew of his studies with the demonic, I knew of his anticipation for the night, and then the sudden illness.” You shrug. “Well, I went to see him—you—on purpose. But all I could truly discern is that something demonic had happened. I didn’t know if he was still part of you and I’d frightfully little knowledge of demonology to leverage. It wasn’t until a few days later that my understanding solidified.”

Dale just shakes his head. “You knew all this time…”

“Were you not aware?” you can’t help but ask, nearly as surprised by the notion as Dale seems to be that you did know.

“I…No,” he frowns. “At times I thought you might. Later that first evening, I worried my reaction to the willowbark had been too vehement or that I’d said something strange while my memories and Dale’s were sorting themselves out. During the tournament, when you sought me out regarding Eastmount—that was when I came closest to thinking you knew what I was.”

“But you changed your mind,” you continue for him. You can see it in his face. “Why?”

“You assisted me,” he says plainly, lifting his eyebrows as if it were obvious. “You didn’t confront me or accuse me or try to leverage any sort of secret knowledge of what I was for your own gain. You didn’t turn me in or ask for my aid to advantage you or threaten me.”

“You thought so ill of me?” You can’t help the hurt that blossoms in your voice. “That I might do such a thing?” Hadn’t he known enough of you by then? You thought he’d understood, that he had seen who you were quicker than anyone else you’d known. Your hand starts to pull out of his without you meaning to. Unable to resist drawing back from him.

“That is what humans do with demons,” he says, almost pleading, pressing your hand to the bed to halt your movement, but not pulling it back towards himself. “Even if you were not one who sought selfish gain, then as a righteous human, you should have raised the alarm, formed a trap, done something to expunge the demon from your midst.” His vehemence is surprising, you feel caught out because he wasn’t wrong. Those are the two expected reactions. “I had thought I’d misjudged you since you had seemed to know, but not do any of those things. I was waiting for the demand of what you wished for in exchange for your silence. It never came.” Dale shakes his head again. “I concluded you didn’t know. It was the only explanation that fit. That, at most, you suspected Dale had enhanced himself with demonics and were willing to aid him in his one-upmanship with Eastmount.”

“I see.” On one hand you do truly understand his caution. He is a feared stranger in a foreign land, which goes doubly for Northridge given Grandmother’s attitude. You know plenty who would have done as he suggested, but… You also know some who would not have. Surely he must have Dale’s own memories of humans mixed up in demonology that wouldn’t have reacted so poorly. It's such a specific fear. “Has…has that happened before? When someone found out you were possessing a different human in the past?”

“I…” He freezes, all of his extra eyes closing up, although the two that remain are still glowing, black all but gone from them. “Yes. It has.”

A bolt of anger on Dale’s behalf straightens your spine, even though you know how humans react to demons. It's not even unwarranted most of the time. But this is Dale, your fiancé—your Dale. Did they simply not know him? From all the stories you’ve heard, most demons make their true intent, if it is destruction, known quite quickly. It’s why you’ve become more comfortable with Dale as time has passed. “I don’t know what circumstances there were, but you’ve not behaved in a way that would cause me to betr—to react in such a manner. 

“I would not have blamed you. Demons can be quick to turn on each other as well.” His voice was strangely soft and earnest as he spoke, as he tried to absolve you of these potential feelings and actions against him. “It’s not humans alone who have decided that it would be better to no longer act in concert with me before.”

It breaks your heart, to hear him say it so plainly, so gently. You can see now you are working against a lifetime of betrayal, or so it seems to you. You search for something, anything, to communicate your sincerity. A reason to push any lingering fear of such possibility in the future as far from his mind as you can. 

“You saved my life tonight, Grandmother’s life.” It’s the most tangible, most straightforward reason you could see that he might believe for your trust in him. You wait, but he doesn’t disagree. You have his rapt attention. “We are working towards the same goal, are we not? You’ve more than proven your dedication to Northridge tonight, to my satisfaction.” You don’t see it so plainly, so unemotionally, but you want to impress upon him that you are aligned together. You wait for his slow nod of acknowledgment. 

“Nothing you have done has persuaded me otherwise,” you work hard to make your voice as steady and sure as you can. “It never crossed my mind to try to entrap or exorcize you tonight.” You hope by focusing on now, he won’t try to argue this specific point. You don’t have such concrete reasons for your feelings before and so you’re not sure he’d believe you’d never really had the inclination once you actually met him. Otherwise, he’s right: some things need that time to grow and solidify. You want to make damn sure you’re starting on the right foot. You will gain the rest of his trust going forward.

Dale leans closer, an eye opening up. He tightens his grip on your hand as he does so. You wait on pins on needles for his response. “I believe you. Thank you.”

You want to shift the topic back to lighter matters, but you’re unsure of how to do so. “Demons truly have turned on you as humans have?” is what comes out instead. You wince.

Dale doesn’t seem to take offense. “Yes, as I was not born into a group that survived, I sought to join others.” You want to ask so much more about that, but you can tell by the way Dale is moving past this part of his past, that he doesn’t want to share that now. It’s late. It's been an incredibly long day, you understand. You’ll be able to ask him for details on all of this because you’re getting married. You’ll have your whole lives to learn everything about him. He’s staying, you reiterate to yourself. You can no longer picture your future without him.

“The majority of demonic clans are very insular and do not take kindly to outsiders,” he says with a frown. “They see nothing wrong with treating said outsiders with little…regard or integrity. This is why the courting ritual I described is spread out. To allow time to pass without betrayal or shifts in alliances to occur. To demonstrate the connection can weather time and outside forces.”

“And to feel confident in telling anything more personal to their prospective spouse,” you add, nodding. Sure there is gossip and alliances and even violence within the nobility on the Surface—tonight’s more than proved that—but not on the scale Dale’s describing. You’re abruptly very grateful for the world you live in. You’d likely not survived his.

“Precisely,” Dale confirms. “Information that might have been construed as weaknesses to be exploited, but not can be trusted to not be taken advantage of.”

This does fit with the rumors and heresy you’ve heard about demonic ways of life. It’s a wonder any of them manage to mate at all. Still, you’d hoped for something else, something you could do besides ‘not betray him’. For Dale. To show that you accept him. To demonstrate your sincerity to the marriage. To signify your clarity who he is. You know that marriage is with a demon and you want him, not anyoneelse. You want him to know that before the night’s through. “So there aren’t any other differences in courting that you are surprised about? Or that we have not participated in?”

Dale frowns as he thinks. You try to determine if it's the moonlight and wind painting strange shadows on his form or just him without pretense. He’s mesmerizing either way. “Couple’s often take a journey together or begin to merge their territories prior to being bound as formal mates. You’ve already come to live in our territory and we’ll be taking our tour after the wedding. I don’t believe much can be done to accelerate that at this point.”

“No,” you have to agree, although you understand now why Dale had been so eager for the tour and are doubly glad to be doing it. “Not in our circumstance.”

“We already discussed and covered so many compatibility topics that there is not much left that I’d have wished to know about a potential mate. Well, I suppose it is unusual to have done little beyond dance,” Dale admitted, all but two of his eyes looking sidelong out the window now. ��Physical compatibility in such matters is also considered relatively strongly. I suppose that has more weight for demons given our variety.” He sounds on the fence about how true he feels that statement is. As if he is giving you an excuse to brush past this topic and move on.

“Oh?” You hope that sounded calm. You hope your expression isn’t giving you away if your voice did not. “I, I do not mind, if you wanted, or rather,” you can’t get the words out in a coherent manner, too intrigued despite yourself, and your inability to talk sensibly is only making you more flustered. Memories of your fumble at a festival as well as memories dancing with Dale distract you. “If there was something else you wished to discover regarding our compatibility, I would not be opposed.”

Dale blinks at you in surprise, but without judgment. That lack of judgment is always one of the primary differences between who is Dale is now and who Dale was. It is the quality you appreciate the most. “Oh, you would not?” He sounds mildly intrigued and unflustered as he runs a few fingers through his hair. It’s unkempt and dark enough to melt into the shadows around you both, but you think it looks longer than it did even a few minutes ago. As if the strands spent more time tangled around his fingers this time around. “I constantly find myself torn between what Dale has experienced informally, what I know human society seems to expect, and what I would consider a reasonable level of intimacy for those who plan to join together permanently in merely a week.”

“Of course.” You can hardly keep the typical social rules straight, let alone your own memories and another persons and another society’s set of expectations. It’d drive you a little mad, you think. “I imagine such conflicting knowledge must be confusing.”

“It is,” Dales says emphatically, looking relieved to finally be able to speak openly. Then he sighs, looking mildly embarrassed for possibly the first time you’ve seen. “And I know I do not always play my part correctly.”

You feel a little bad for having had the same thought because, well, he isn’t wrong, is he? Nothing much you can say to that. Still, you want to reassure him. “When we are in private, you don’t need to worry about playacting correctly. You’ll wear yourself to the bone if you tried to keep up a facade constantly.”

“I appreciate your saying so,” he says with a tentative smile you’ve not seen before. It’s sweet. It would have looked out of place on the original Dale’s face and yet it suits this one so well. “It can be tiring. Not always and there are times when even in public, with you, I still feel as I do now.”

You smile, pleased with yourself at having made him feel even somewhat comfortable in a land so alien to him. “It’s not as if I’ve not felt out of place before, although not to the same extent, but I want us to help each other. That’s why I wish for you to feel comfortable here and now, with me and our courtship. We are to be married and I want that to mean a partnership, mates, a true couple. No matter our differences and the strange circumstances we’ve found ourselves in.”

“As do I,” Dale murmurs, leaning closer. At first you think he’s simply relaxing his posture, until his hand reaches out to put a finger under your chin. His eyes are dark as they stare at your lips and you recall what turn the conversation had started to take before being sidelined. “So, you would not mind if I…?” 

Evidently Dale wishes to push the conversation back on track. His intent is obvious and he gives you plenty of time to pull away, but you still reply, only a little breathily, “I would not” before his lips cover your own. It’s a far more tentative and gentle kiss than the one human Dale had taken from you. Less awkward than your first kiss had been. You melt into his hold as he cups your cheek more firmly, angling the kiss just so. His lips are cool, but soft.

Dale parts from you only to press another kiss to your lips the next second. Kiss after kiss, the rest of the world melts away until there is only the two of you in the faint light, safe in this room. Your hands end up grasping the front of his shirt to keep him close, not that he seems intent on going anywhere. His hand tangles itself in your hair, cupping the base of your head while his other splays along your side to better pull you closer. 

He deepens the next kiss and you can taste him on your tongue, like coffee and cinnamon. You relax into his hold even as he seems to get hungrier, as he steals the breath from your lungs and every stray thought from your mind. Dale pulls an appreciative noise from the back of your throat. Your hands, still fisted in his shirt, slowly release their grip to press against his chest. He’s wonderfully solid beneath them, safe and whole and home. 

Dale belongs with you and you won’t let anything keep him from you.

You bury a hand in his hair, the cool, silky strands almost wrap around your fingers in return. Eventually, you have to use your hold to pull him back enough to breathe, but you don’t give him more than the space to allow you to do so. Dale pants against your lips. “Breathing is so…” Dale starts to mutter, almost absentmindedly, before he leans back in to dot kisses along your jaw.

You hum in agreement, pleased with his attention. Desire zips through your veins. Shadows move like flames in the moonlight, shifting across Dale’s body and around him. You swear you can almost feel them, like velvet against your skin. This night feels like a wonderful dream.

Dale’s large hands land on your hips, strong and sure. He makes his way back to your mouth, determined that neither of you can truly catch your breath, and starts pushing you further onto the bed, away from the end. Your feet leave the ground while he moves after you. Your own hands are occupied, holding his strong jaw, buried in his luscious, dark hair. At some point, while stealing your thoughts with his nimble tongue, he lifts you entirely from the sheets to maneuver you fully into the middle of bed. Even when he sets you back down, you're only kept even remotely upright by your hold on him.

“Sana…” Dale pants against your lips when he pulls back just enough for your lungs to remember their job. His voice is raspy and deep as he speaks through his own breaths. You meet as many of his eyes as you can, half-lidded but rapt with attention. “I have been wanting, no,” Dale corrects himself, “needing to familiarize myself with your scent.” He runs his nose down the column of your throat before burying his face in the crook of your neck. You feel his words against your skin nearly as much as you hear them. “As your touch, your appearance, your voice are already solidified in my mind. All brief glimpses of scent I managed to steal pitiable and meager until now.”

Your mind struggles to think of a coherent response. Is this part of demon courting? Having Dale wrapped around you, against you so intimately? The desire to know you by every sense. “Oh?” If so, you want more. Even if it’s merely something Dale wants, he’s welcome to it, to you.

“Your taste…” he pressed an open-mouthed kiss to your collarbone. “Half-remembered, filtered through that imbecile’s mind.” His derision for Dale’s opinion helps chase away your insecurities that he might be swayed by them. He scrapes his teeth against your skin and your mind fogs over. “I knew it to be a poor imitation of reality, but if I had known how poor, I’m not sure I would have been able to resist for so long. Want. More,” he says around licks and kisses to your sternum where he’s pushing against the barrier of your chemise.

“You, if you,” you stutter around the words, trying to string your thoughts together. You’d had daydreams about a fiancé you trusted enough and who felt passionately enough that you’d preempt your wedding night, like in so many hushed romantic stories. “Yes, you can, if you wa-ant.” When Dale merely continues to nose at your hem, you finally manage to say as plainly as you can, “Simply remove it.”

“Gladly,” Dale replies, eager hands already set on the task of riding you of your remaining clothing. It’s so freeing to be able to say exactly what you mean, what you want, and have Dale hear you. To have him immediately act on what you say. Your robe had fallen off at some point after his first kiss so there is only your chemise. He manages to divest you of it in record time, making sure the fabric doesn’t catch on your bandages. 

He stills to take in the sight of you, but only for a few seconds. As soon as the slightest inclination towards embarrassed self-consciousness starts to make themselves heard, Dale says, “Thank you,” so emphatically, you feel heat rise to your face and gather between your legs. 

“I—” Whatever you were going to say is lost as Dale immediately starts trailing kisses down from your neck to your chest. His other hand lands on your upper thigh and starts to massage and stroke at the skin there. You moan, eyelids slamming closed to better enjoy the sensations he’s provoking throughout your body. It's so much after so long of only dances and holding hands, but you feel as greedy as Dale is acting. With the taunt of courtship over, you want to be as close to him as you possibly can. 

He envelops a nipple in his mouth and lightning races down your spine to strike your core. You can feel yourself getting wetter as he continues. You ache for some friction between your legs but you don’t want to risk Dale stopping. As he switches sides, his hand coming up to tweak and rub your damp skin, you moan shamelessly. You want to drown in the sensation of Dale moving so eagerly against you. He’s ravenous.

Dale’s attentions push you back and you place a hand on the bed to try to steady yourself. It's not quite enough, not given your injured arm. You do your best to control your descent down on your side. Dale gropes at your hip as if to try to help keep you up before he realizes what you're doing and helps guide you down instead. 

His shirt disappears as you reposition yourselves. You move quickly to explore the skin now bared to you, feeling strange stripes of velvet mixed with soft human skin. The difference in textures reminds you of who you are with even though you can’t see his inhuman nature with your eyes squeezed shut in an attempt to weather the heat he’s stoking within your body.

Dale pushes you further back and you go with the motion until you feel the sheets against your bruised back. Flinching, your hands scramble against Dale’s skin as you arch away from the bed. “S-Sorry,” you pant, “Bruised. My back.” 

Dale’s already tipped you back onto your side and you see a tail with two eyes arc over your shoulder. He growls at whatever he can see in the dark. Shadow tendrils brace you between your shoulder blades and on your lower back so that you can relieve some pressure from your side and relax more in this position. His teeth seem sharper as he says, “I should have torn them to pieces for touching you. For hurting you.”

“You did,” you reply, not wanting to derail the mood even if the reminder of Dale’s defense of you certainly isn’t drawing you out of it. You don’t want Dale consumed by anger. You selfishly want his focus to be on you. “It’s treated as best it can be.” When that doesn’t seem to be enough, you cup his cheek, “Make me forget about it.”

Dale’s eyes ignite at the challenge and you feel a corresponding pulse between your legs. “Yesss, sana,” he hisses in agreement, pressing a kiss to that hand. He resumes his mission to memorize you with all his senses with renewed zeal. It’s easy to let him do so. With him pressed to your front and his shadow tails wrapped around to brace your back, you feel wonderfully enveloped by him. Safe from the world. Safe with him. 

“You seem like something I shouldn’t be allowed to have,” Dale murmurs, voice strange, distant and echoing. He presses more kisses further down your body. Even with nearly all his focus on the physical, he can’t help but think aloud with whatever part of him isn’t consumed with you. “Shouldn’t be allowed to keep.” 

The shadow tails supporting your back spread and his hands fasten securely to your hips. “Smoke in the wind,” a kiss to your stomach, “water in the hand,” a kiss above the thatch of hair you have, “a dream before waking.” He looks up the length of you, his eyes blue and dark and as hypnotizing as ever. “Fighting for this—you and Northridge—for this life tonight has made it feel so much more a reality rather than a far-off wish.” He presses another absentminded kiss to you. His thumbs stroke your skin and your hips roll in his hold involuntarily. “Something I would never truly be able to grasp.”

“You can,” you tell him, feeling nearly as desperate as he’s been acting, voice breaking on the words. Desire clogging up your throat. “If you d-desire… Dale,” you wail his name when he finally puts his mouth on you.

You lace the fingers of one hand into his hair, not able to judge what was too tight while your hips jitter in his hold. Overwhelmed by the sensation of that long adroit tongue dipping in for a better taste. Your head tips back as you try to push into him. He groans encouragingly as his hands move to your thighs and pry them apart to give him more space to work. The improved angle gives him more access, more contact, more ways to make you mewl with pleasure.

True to his words when he first began, Dale is ravenous for your taste, licking and sucking with an intensity that makes you little able to do more than take it. Unleashed, he must have truly been holding himself back before. The fight, that kiss, has broken some self-restraint he’d clearly been tightly holding onto. 

Dale devours you. He devours you until you’re a sweating, moaning, mess held firmly in his grasp. Until a final wave of pleasure pulls you under. 

You come back to yourself slowly to find Dale still between your thighs, carefully licking up every last drop of desire he’s managed to wring from you. You hope he’s satisfied with you. You hope he’s never satisfied. You hope he’s willing to make a meal of you again and again. “Dale,” you breathe out. Glittering, bright eyes look up at you, half-lidded and gratified, but still hungry.

Heat begins to rekindle in your veins as he lowers his gaze back down. As he begins to plant kisses and leave little sucking marks on your skin. As he works his way back up your body. You stroke through his hair encouragingly, languid and content to let him do as he pleases. He’s certainly proved himself worthy of the leeway. He pulls you upright as he goes and your free hand lands on his strong shoulder.

You don’t hesitate to pull him into a kiss once you're close enough. His mouth is wet with you still and you find yourself delighted with the evidence of his indulgence, his base appetite. When he pulls you into his lap, you take advantage of the additional height to lead the kiss. Dale gives way under you easily, letting you press your advantage and finally do some taking yourself.

You don’t break the kiss until Dale situates you perfectly in his lap to let his cock rock against your cunt. Your moan and instant attempt at grinding down against him leave you gasping. His large hands, spanning your hips and with fingers that dig into your ass, encourage your movements as he groans.

“You…” you try to give voice to the thought that’s been building in your mind without you realizing it, “the way you said my name…” You can still hear it echoing in your memory, but you need to hear it aloud. It’s what had helped stabilize your trust in him and you ache to hear it now. “After the fight…”

Dale shudders, something rolling through him, before he opens his mouth to breathe your name in that same resounding tone, the one that seemed to carry with it so much more than a single word ever could. Your eyelids flutter, as you feel that same comfort as before, but it has evolved. Now cinnamon spice and crimson tart berry streaked through that yellow warm honey. You feel it along your nerves, buzzing through your veins like warm, mulled wine. “Dale,” you gasp back, hoping you can convey something similar in return. 

Air flows from him like a breeze and his shadows gutter around him while he closes his eyes to the sensation. When he presses you back down against him there's a rumble you first mistake for a growl only to realize it’s a purr. “May I…?” His cock ruts against your entrance as if there was any doubt as to what he was asking for.

You're lost in this moment, in this feeling, and yet in that second, he takes to ask the real world breaks through. You bury your head in the crook of his neck, craving his own scent nearly as much as his craving for your own had sparked this fire into motion. “Yes, please, Dale—I need you.”

“Yes, sana, I do as well. I need you so very much,” Dale pants as he guides the head of his cock to where it needs to be and begins to push inside. 

Gods, he feels big. You remind yourself to relax, let yourself be pliable, and allow him in. One of his hands leaves your hip to stroke soothingly through your hair while he thoughtlessly babbles, “Yeeesss, so hot, so tight. Lights above, you feel better than… So good. Thank you, pretty, pretty mate for…for this, for this allowance, for this gift, f-fuck.” His words make you shudder and you must be dripping from them given how much more easily he makes his way inside.

Once he’s finally hilted in you, you both need the extra few seconds to take a breath. Him overwhelmed by you surrounding him judging by his scattered words and you for the stretch. The ache of being first too empty and then nearly too full. Soon you deliberately clench around him and he groans. You press a kiss to his neck to let him know he’s alright to move and then set to making it a mark on his skin.

Dale murmurs your name again, a faint echo of how he’d said it earlier. Shuddering, your teeth graze the mark you’re worrying on his skin. Instinctively, he thrusts in even though he’s only pulled halfway out which pulls a groan from deep in your throat.

The sound seems to set Dale off because soon he’s thrusting at a rhythmic pace, half with his own hips, half lifting you up in counterpoint to his movements. Your heat throbs at the demonstration of his strength. You pull your head back to take him in in the moonlight. Your demonic fiancé, demonic mate.

As you can feel another peak building, the pulsing between your legs getting stronger, Dale’s thrusts become more erratic. As soon as you notice, his thumb lands on your clit, obviously determined to push you over the edge with him. 

Dale buries his face in the crook of your neck. His voice resonates against you as he says, “I… I could…I should…” He starts to lift you off of him. “We’re not—”

His words are cut off with a loud moan when you push back against him, hands on his shoulders, muscles throbbing around him. To keep him inside you where he belongs. 

“No, no,” you say, mind overwhelmed with pleasure, but also coherent to understand he’s trying to cater to you even if it's not what you want, what you crave with a strength that would surprise you if you gave it a moment’s consideration. “Please. I trust you.” You know Dale wouldn’t leave you now. As far as you're concerned, you’re already married. He’ll never leave you again. “Please, stay inside.”

He growls your name in response and pulls you back fully onto his cock without needing further encouragement. His hands stroke up and down your sides, shadow tendrils controlling the pace of his thrusts. The additional sensation of his hands on your skin, on your chest, your nipples, combined with the kisses and marks he’s attempting to suck on your skin drive you to the final heights you need to climax, convulsing around his cock. Dale falls over the edge with you.

Bliss spreads through your body as Dale collapses backward, you sprawled on his chest. You’re sweaty and overcome and the most satisfied, most content you’ve been in… You let the thought fizzle out and merely sigh happily instead. What more could you ever need than Dale with you in your bed?

Languid sleep laps at your mind, but when Dale prompts you, you go through the motions of nighttime ritual. He murmurs an apology when you shudder from the feel of tepid water and sigh from any movement at all that’s not horizontal. Soon enough you’re clad in a fresh shift, Dale in only his own shirt, standing by the bed. He looks, with hesitation at the door.

“Do not leave, not until you must,” you say as you lean against him, hand over his heart. Not an ask, but not a demand.

“I won’t,” Dale replies, the solemnity of an oath, the fervor of a declaration of love—more powerful in the dark of your bedroom. He shuffles you over to the bed until you’re lying down against his chest once more. “There’s nowhere else I’d want to be.”

That warmth of belonging wraps around you at his words and you gently kiss his neck in answer, before mustering the sleep-weary words to say, “There’s no one else I’d want.” It’s so easy to admit now, so freeing to say aloud. 

Dale presses a kiss to your head. He echoes, “Only you.”

[turn3tifosi]

FROM THE ANGELS

i. THE FERRARI DREAM

Hungary, 2022

The voice of Alex Jacques echoes like the end of the world, circling the track as the cars scream into the final lap. Ausilia de Angelis, Ferrari’s young lioness, dances with destiny, carving her name into the air, leading the race like it was always hers. The past six races bow before her, and she’s hungry—hungry for the points she’s about to steal from Felipe Drugovich, the man who chases shadows in the championship.

And then it happens.

The world cracks open. She crosses the line, and the earth stands still. Seven. Seven times the victor. The Prema pit explodes, red and white and joyous. Theo Pourchaire—fourth to second—follows her ghost, and Ayumu Iwasa, eyes like fire, claims third.

The circuit breathes out. The race is over. Spa waits on the other side of summer.

"Oh my God, that was fun!" Ausilia’s voice is a storm, a whirlwind, as she crashes into her team, arms and laughter and victory all tangled up. She turns, the chaos in her chest finding its rhythm, and she leaps—into the arms of Lucrezia Cattaneo, the woman who believes in her like she’s gravity. "I’m so proud of you, tesoro mio," Lucrezia whispers, but it’s not really a whisper. It’s the sound of the sun setting on a perfect day.

Later, after the world has quieted and the night has taken over, they drive back to the hotel. The road is dark, but there’s light between them. “You’re going to Maranello this week?” Lucrezia asks, her eyes fixed ahead, searching for something only she can see. Ausilia, for once, doesn’t have the answer. She shrugs, letting the silence fill the car like water in a glass. “It’s the start of the summer break. I’d rather not see their faces, not yet. They haven’t called.” But she knows, somewhere deep, that the call is coming, and when it does come, it won’t be joyous.

Summer Break, 2022

Ausilia never expected a calm summer break, not after what she and Lucrezia had set into motion. The summer break was supposed to be a breath, a pause—but the first day, and already the phone rings, and the mood shatters like glass.

“Have you terminated your contract with Ferrari?” The voice on the other end is calm, too calm.

“Not yet,” Ausilia replies, her voice steady, though the storm inside her builds. “I haven’t been to Maranello since last Monday. Why?”

A chuckle from the other side, low and knowing. “You were right about them. I’m at the gala, and certain Italians are whispering in corners, telling potential sponsors that you’re only winning because Prema’s given you the faster car. They’re trying to sway me, push me toward Ferrari, and away from you.”

Ausilia’s eyes narrow, the fire beneath her cool words sparking. “Any team gives the faster car to the better driver. If they’re saying that, it just proves they know I’m the better one.”

There’s a beat of silence, the tension thick even across the distance, then the question comes, sharp and decisive. “Should we contact your future team for the sponsorship deal?”

She lets the question hang in the air, measuring it against the chaos she knows is coming. “Not yet,” she finally says, each word a deliberate step. “There’s going to be drama this summer. Let’s not tip our hand too soon.”

As she’s about to end the call, another ring cuts through the quiet, the name on the screen making her groan. Marco Matassa (FDA Head). Of course. The devil always knows when to appear. “Looks like I’ll be heading to Maranello sooner than I thought.”

She cuts the call, lets the phone ring unanswered until it stops. A message pops up, cold as a command: “Drive to Maranello tomorrow. The team wants to discuss your future. Bring your manager.”

And just like that, the storm begins.

Ausilia woke early the next morning, shedding the Ferrari red for something that spoke in whispers rather than shouts—something fashionable, defiant in its simplicity. The day held a certain weight, and she dressed for the part, not as a driver but as something else, something more.

She left her apartment and picked up Lucy, who was waiting with a smile that knew too much. “Excuse they’ll use. Just one. Closest guess gets an extra slice of pizza tonight,” Lucy offered, a game to pass the time, to cut through the tension that hung between them. Ausilia laughed, the sound sharp and bright in the morning light.

As the engine roared to life, Ausilia waved her hand with mock drama, her voice dripping with sarcasm, “There’s just no seats in F1.”

Lucy turned serious, eyes narrowing as she thought it through. “I don’t think they’ll use something so blatant. They’re not that stupid, are they? My guess—something about how F2 and F1 are worlds apart, and just because you dominated F2 doesn’t mean you’ll succeed in F1.”

Ausilia’s laugh came again, this time darker, edged with something bitter. “If they go with that, they’d be proving just how stupid they are.”

The drive from Modena to Maranello was only half an hour, but it felt longer, like the road itself was stretching out, trying to delay the inevitable. When she finally pulled into Ferrari’s parking lot, she did it in a Porsche, not a Ferrari, each moment of defiance deliberate, each choice a statement. No team polo, no red, no shield. Just a rival’s car gleaming in the enemy’s territory.

She knew what she was doing, knew the risks. But if this was the end, she would go out on her own terms. What better way to say goodbye than to flaunt a rival's machine when she had spent her time as a Ferrari Driver Academy member refusing to touch any of their own?

As Ausilia slid into her seat at the head of the table, Marco Matassa, the head of FDA, and Mattia Binotto, Scuderia Ferrari’s Team Principal, rose in a slow, deliberate dance of formality.

The room crackled with tension. The Porsche in the parking lot was an unwelcome guest in a sea of Ferraris, a silent proclamation of defiance. Everyone knew who it belonged to.

Ausilia, draped in dramatic anticipation, knew exactly what was coming. But drama was her craft; she was here to see how they would script this act.

“Apologies for the Porsche. Lucy’s car is in the shop.” She offered a smile, disarmingly serene, as if it might soften the blows to come. If these men weren’t bracing for the conversation ahead, they might have laughed, dismissed it as a trivial matter.

“You can sit down, you know,” Lucy’s voice was a gentle chime, the kind of sound that seemed to make the air around them a little lighter.

Marco gestured to Mattia, urging him to take a seat while he remained standing, his eyes locked onto Ausilia. “You are an incredible talent for Ferrari.” The words were like a well-rehearsed lie, and Ausilia almost laughed, because of course she was a talent—but not for them, not anymore. She smiled back, wide-eyed and innocent.

“Unfortunately,” Mattia cut in, his impatience a jagged edge, “we don’t have any seats in Formula One. Carlos and Charles are locked in until the end of 2024.”

“The pizza’s mine,” Ausilia whispered to Lucrezia, the words a secret promise as she turned her attention back to Marco and Mattia. “Haas have a seat, don’t they?”

An uneasy silence settled over the room, the kind that lingers after a question too sharp. Marco finally responded, his voice carrying a tone of practiced indifference. “Haas won’t take another FDA driver. They don’t want to be seen as Ferrari’s junior team.”

Lucy’s eyes sharpened, her voice cutting through the pretense. “So despite Ausilia’s domination of F2 and F3, she’s to remain grounded? What kind of academy can’t even pave the way for its own drivers?”

Marco took a breath, as if steadying himself. “It might be better for her career if she’s not branded with Ferrari. Let’s terminate the contract—it will make it easier for her to find a seat elsewhere.”

Lucy winced, her patience fraying. Did these men really think they could pull the wool over their eyes? Getting an F1 seat without an F1 team backing her was going to be a fight, especially as a woman.

But Lucy mirrored Ausilia’s façade of ignorance, agreeing with the men with a tone that dripped with feigned logic. “Well, at least you’re being practical.”

Ausilia walked into Ferrari headquarters as an FDA driver and left as just another driver. The weight of the label lifted from her shoulders, but a shadow of sadness lingered. Despite her plans for a Formula One career, a part of her—the part that had dreamed of driving for Scuderia—felt the sting of loss.

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

Forget-Me-Not 1

Warnings: non/dubcon, and other dark elements. My username actually says you never asked for any of this.

My warnings are not exhaustive but be aware this is a dark fic and may include potentially triggering topics. Please use your common sense when consuming content. I am not responsible for your decisions.

Characters: Loki

Summary: You return to your childhood home to put the past to rest.

Part of the Backwoods AU

As usual, I would appreciate any and all feedback. I’m happy to once more go on this adventure with all of you! Thank you in advance for your comments and for reblogging.

You never really thought of Hammer Ford as home. You only ever tried to forget it and the turbulent years of your childhood. You let the memories haze away with the chaos of the urban rush. Office doors and honking cars easily overwrote the map work of your mind. A less than glamorous life, but peaceful. That’s all you ever wanted.

Your return is inevitable. You knew that. For years, you outran that fact. One day, you would need to face those dusty rural roads and the whispers in the wind. That day has come despite your stubbornness. A week after the news came and you could find no other excuse to stay away.

Not home, just the past. A piece of you you can’t erase. A shame you’ll never fully shake.

The welcome sign, beneath an iron statue of a hammer on a cloud, marks the village edge. You grip the wheel tighter and swallow dryly. Your bladder aches from the coffee you chugged after the last rest stop. You still have some ways to go.

Funny to think that despite its sprawling roads sparse layout, that the populace is so tight knit, the small hamlet untouched by the world outside. The same red barn up on the hill, the gate of the Grove in all its resplendence, and the short strip of businesses before the earth rolls into hills and flattens to fields.

You steer off into the northeast. The Maps app stopped working a few miles back. You don’t need the automated voice to guide you. It all comes back to you so clearly. Just around this curve and behind the barn, there’s the old path behind the Berrys. On and on, behind the overgrown brush to the house by the river. 

Your tires mulch in the dirt as you brake. You shift and shut off the engine, looking out at the peeling wooden facade. The house was once a cottage in the glory days of the village, then it was passed along until your parents’ signed the deed. By that time, it was already derelict.

It hasn’t gotten better. The windows are cracked and dusty, the door splintered, and the front steps crooked. You get out and cross your arms, breathing in the damp forest air.

You feel nothing looking up at that shit hole. You thought the sight of it would bring the flood, but nothing. You shake your head. They said your mother was found in the kitchen, at the table with a bottle of vodka. You never expected anything different for her. At last, she’ll be happy. She’s off to see your father again.

You approach the porch but can’t make yourself climb the steps. There’s something blocking, some unseen wall. You just want to turn around, get in the car, and pretend it’s all a dream. Just like you had for all those years.

You lean your head back and blow out through your lips. Eventually you’ll have to go inside. You need sleep. You could curl up in your backseat again but your hips are ragged from last night. You’re supposed to meet Jan tomorrow. He’s got a casket ready and then you have to go to the church to discuss the service. You don’t think they’ll be much of one.

The hotel isn’t an option. Not for you.

As you glare up at the front door, you hear snapping sticks and the hum of another engine. You turn and watch the dark shadow slowly rolling between the trees. The forest green car turns in just behind your bumper and idles as you squint at the tinted windshield. 

A curious villager isn’t unexpected. Everyone probably knows old Nadia is dead. You just hoped they’d leave you alone, at least until tomorrow.

You cross your arms and steel yourself. The driver’s door opens and a tall man steps out, his imperious nose sniffing the scent of river water and crinkling. Your chest feels as if it might gave in as his emerald eyes meet yours.

Loki Odinson. The last person you expected. The last person you ever wanted to run into. He turns and opens the back door of the car, reaching in and pulling out a basket of flowers. Your temper curdles up to the back of your throat. How dare he?

“My mother and father send their condolences,” he shuts the door and strides across the dirt. You look down at his leather shoes, should he be dirtying them here?

You just stare at him. You have no words, not that you’re much of a talker. What is there to say? Your mother’s dead and you’re stuck dealing with this dirt hole.

“Hm,” he angles past you and puts the basket on the top step, “should brighten the place up.”

You keep your arms crossed as you stare at him. He looks at you again, his eyes flickering, as if he’s surprised by your gaze. He just remembers the girl who kept her head down, the one with no voice and no backbone.

“Very sorry to hear it. Rather sad way to go. All alone.”

“Tell your parents, it’s appreciated,” you turn and march up the steps, dropping your arms.

You hear a scrape and shift to peek at his silhouette from the corner of your eye. He has his foot propped on the lowest step. The porch groans loudly under your weight.

“And I drove all the way here,” he says.

You shrug. You didn’t ask or expect it. That isn’t your problem.

He’s silent, waiting. He’s just like the rest of Hammer Ford, he hasn’t changed. He’s still the spoiled brat awaiting his prize. Well, you haven’t got one for him. You have nothing for him, no tears, no anger, just indifference.

“I see,” he says at last, “you must be tired from the road, no doubt. Of course, you’ve just lost a parent, I can hardly expect glowing conversation… not that I ever did from you.”

You don’t flinch. You go to the front door and pull out the key you dug out of your old jewelry box. It still works. You let yourself in as the hinges whine loudly. You don’t look back as you let the door clatter shut behind you. 

There’s a lull before you hear the engine flip and hum. You stand, listening, waiting for him to be gone. Just like when you were young, hiding behind that door from that boy. Well, you’re both grown now.

[aurumacadicus]

You know what would be funny lmao

--

Tony hadn't been entirely enthused when Steve had showed up after a run with puppy eyes and said, "Just until his owners contact us? He's part husky, someone must be looking for him." He wasn't a dog-person. He was barely a person-person. But he'd conceded, since the dog was staying a finite amount of time, and Steve had promised to bathe it before letting it roam the apartment, and the dog turned out to be house trained already. He even got JARVIS scanning local social media to find its owners. It wouldn't be for long.

And then JARVIS had found a picture and gently informed them that 'Dodger's family had been among the casualties during the alien invasion and while he kept getting adopted, he also kept getting returned, because he kept running away.

"Oh," Steve had said, choked up, and Tony had miserably ordered a dog bed and monogrammed dishes. (He'd reached out to the owners' families, first, of course, but they'd admitted they didn't have the time or space for an escape artist dog that liked to run for hours.)

Dodger wasn't really so bad, though, Tony thought. Steve kept him very well exercised, and Dodger was a great running buddy because Steve never had to worry about tiring him out. He didn't get on the furniture unless they called for him. And sure, he was loud, but Tony found himself talking back to him as if he was a person, and Steve was apparently smitten about it, if Natasha was to be believed.

And, Tony couldn't help but think smugly, Dodger liked cuddling with him better. It was probably because Tony was around more (Steve still went on missions that could last for weeks, but he'd set up an account with a dog-walking service so Tony didn't have to worry about that either). When Steve was there, Tony tried to stay hands off, but when he was gone, he and Dodger got to sulk about it together, and it was a very uniting endeavor. So most nights Steve was gone, they'd lounge together on the couch, Tony watching old movies that didn't require too much attention and Dodger with his nose buried someplace a wet nose was particularly annoying, like on his stomach or the back of his neck.

"I'm home," Steve called, and then, "Really? Neither of you are coming to greet me?"

"You were supposed to be home three days ago," Tony grumped, not looking away from the TV. He'd told Dodger that he was giving Steve the cold shoulder yesterday, and Dodger had yelped back something sounding like 'woo woove woo,' which Tony had decided meant he agreed with him. He knew he'd break eventually, but he decided Steve had to work for it this time, especially because he hadn't wanted him to go undercover for a month anyway.

"Hydra was literally chasing me all over Sweden," Steve said, flabbergasted, as he finally came over to the couch. He frowned at Dodger. "This is no way to treat your main owner."

Dodger lifted his head, mouth opened in a grin, and let out a 'wowyow!'

"I'll remember this when you want to go out for a run with me tomorrow," Steve groused, then scowled at Tony. "And you too. I'm gonna leave him in while I run so he can just bother you."

"I'll cuddle him instead," Tony told him flatly.

Steve let out a wounded noise, then couldn't swallow back an amused huff, leaning over the couch. "Yeah, well, we'll see about that." He waited a beat to see if Tony would take the bait, but he'd been stewing over his safety for three days, so he got nothing. Sighing, he rolled his eyes and sat up a little, reaching out to lay a smack to Tony's ass, because he knew that, at least, would get a reaction.

Tony barely had time to jump in surprise before Dodger was up, barking at him. "Oh my god????"

"Dodger oh my fuck," Steve spluttered, rearing back with his hands up.

Dodger hunched over Tony's body protectively, still barking, loud, assertive noises that left them both absolutely gobsmacked. Finally, though, Tony came out of his shock and turned, wrapping his arms around Dodger in an effort to soothe him. "It's okay, sweetheart, Daddy was just trying to rile me up."

"It's not like he hasn't seen me smack your ass before," Steve exclaimed defensively.

"Maybe if you'd spanked me three days ago, he wouldn't be barking," Tony scoffed.

"Unbelievable. I didn't want to lead Hydra directly to my boyfriend and you're scolding me," Steve said in disbelief. Then he rolled his eyes and sighed, turning to head for the bedroom. "I'm going to shower. Maybe we'll both cool off."

"I'm fine," Tony said sternly.

Steve tossed an unamused frown over his shoulder. "I meant me and Dodger."

"You're both very anxious dogs," Tony agreed sympathetically, then squealed when Dodger shoved his cold nose against his throat, covering Steve's gleeful 'you deserve that!'