#but still asking him to recognize her need

[simpjaes]

✘ WIP DIARY ── LAST NIGHT, I READ YOUR DIARY. (p.sh) ✘

Sunghoon has been trying be everything you need since your mother passed. A father, a friend, a therapist. You never really understood what your mother saw in him in the first place, if you’re being honest. He’s awkward, quiet, and typically used to keep to himself up until now. You’re impressed with his efforts by the time you’re entering into your senior year of college, though his entire demeanor towards you seems to have changed.  or the one where your step-father grows obsessed with you minute by minute. 

── step-dad /weirdo park sunghoon x afab reader  

── minors dni

── tags: sunghoon is in his 30s, reader is in her 20s so, age gap, step-cest, heartbreak, obsession, manipulation, coercion, stockholm syndrome-ish, fluff if he manipulates you as a reader lmfao, angst, smut. don't read this if you are easily triggered. ── side characters: heeseung as reader's ex boyfriend, jay as reader's closest friend

── !WARNINGS!: this work contains non-con, dub-con, and stalking behavior. your mom isn’t alive in this fic. warnings will be updated as i write.

── a/n: this one is gonna be a wild ride, that's all i gotta say.

LAST UPDATED: 12.22.24

⨯ est wordcount: 20k+ ⨯ current wordcount: 5.4k ⨯ est release date: tbd ⨯ taglist: ask to be on my perma tag list!

playlist ⨯ recommended song: last night i read your diary - gürl She's got me down on my knees I beg, I beg, I, I beg, I beg, please! I want it more than I need And I need it like I need to breathe Like I'm losing my- Choke.

PREVIEW (3.1k):

no warnings apply to the preview, it's just the first couple of thousand words for this fic. aka, the intro and the set up for what will inevitably happen later:

・・・・・・・・・・・・・・

Your first heartbreak is meant to be painful, but this? This is more painful than you could have ever imagined. 

Heeseung was one of your only constants in life. From childhood to high school it’s like he was there more than your own mother was, and certainly more than your own father. Even when she passed, Heeseung was the one who held you through it, he’s the one who made you smile again, he’s the one who made you feel like it was okay to heal and keep going. 

It’s the fact that it was a mutual break up that hurts the most because deep down, you couldn’t see yourself without him. Yet, still, you willingly watched him hop on the plane with a short kiss and long goodbye. It felt so final to you. You could have handled a long distance relationship, truly. But Heeseung didn’t want that. He wanted to explore the world, he wanted to try new things, be with new people. 

Do things without you clinging to him all the time. 

In a way, you understand that. After all, you’re the only girl he had ever been with up until now. Senior year of college. You think you knew your relationship was coming to an end by the time he announced he was going to be studying abroad for his final year without ever once even telling you he was applying to do so. 

So, yeah, it was mutual solely because you want him to be happy and he’s made it clear that he believes that can only happen without you. Such is life. Painful, painful fucking life.  

Just last year when your mother passed, you nearly dropped out and Heeseung had been your rock to make it through class after class with a grade barely high enough to pass. You’re certain some of your professors took pity on you and raised your grade just enough to move forward. You’ll forever thank them for recognizing how hard you were trying. But now? Without your mother, without Heeseung, you’re at a loss.

And there’s a difference between loneliness and isolation, you think. Loneliness to you always hits hard during small spaces in your day, like when you’d get into Heeseung’s car and he would close your door for you. The silence always hurt your ears while he was still making his way around the car to the driver’s seat. A shallow loneliness that you could feel right at the top of your gut, like it was squeezing inside of you and making you lose your appetite. Solely because that silence reminded you of what you always had, a lack of loneliness because of him.

But then there’s isolation. Where it feels forced upon you by other people. Your mother fucking died, Heeseung fucking left, and now you’re just here expected to wake up like you always do, go to class, study hard, sleep well, when the reality of it is– you’re genuinely struggling just to look at yourself in the mirror. 

Then there’s Sunghoon. The only person close enough to you now that you can reach out to. The issue with that is– you’ve never actually been close. And that’s what sucks. The fact that he of all people is all you have now? May as well just assume you have nobody.

His regular calls mean close to nothing to you in the grand scheme of things. Despite him calling twice a week every week since your mother died, your step-father is just as distanced from you as you are him. You’re aware that it’s his obligation, not because he cares. And that hurts, because it’s all you have now. 

Now, you have to try and find meaning in those short calls. After all, Sunghoon fell apart when your mother passed all on his own and you had only called him out of obligation too. You were already in college and stressed, falling apart yourself with someone to love beside you helping you through it. Calling him when it all happened felt empty because you knew both of you were trying to hold it together and save face. 

It wasn’t like this before she died. In fact, he never called and you never cared for him to. You’d see each other when you were home, share awkward pleasantries, and that’s it. It’s hard to believe that now you feel like you need a father, after all those years of practically rejecting him as one. He seemed fine with that after you hit your teen years. He knew by then that he could never be the father you want, but at least he could be the husband your mother needed.

You have grief in common now though. Loneliness. Isolation.

You try not to think about how you were okay up until now though. Having Heeseung to fall back on to soften the blow of your loss, you guess Sunghoon didn’t have that. Maybe his monotone voice and empty words were his way of coping, his way of hearing a voice that wasn’t the one in his own head when he calls you. 

It’s just you and a man you never considered family past the titles and obligatory respects. Finding meaning in his short phone calls does nothing to help your growing isolation, but you cling to them now that Heeseung is gone. You wait for the calls, you ask him to check in with you every day now, to the point Sunghoon starts to notice the difference in you.

No longer rushing to get off the phone. Now, you’re dragging on meaningless conversations. Now, he hears cracks in your voice. 

“You feeling okay?” Sunghoon asks you, in a way that makes you wonder how he’s able to tell that you’re definitely not. The way his own voice has a bit of life to it when he asks it…strange too. Like he’s concerned. 

“No–” You trail off in your meek voice, staring at your ceiling and mind swirling with all of the work you need to get done for classes already. “I’ve only been in classes for a week and I already feel like I’m drowning.” 

Sunghoon sighs into the speaker, contemplating how to further the conversation with you in a way that isn’t too intrusive. After all, who is he to pry? Still, he never intended for you to feel neglected or like you couldn’t come to him. After all, you were too happy about his lack of parenting you throughout his presence in your life. 

He finds solace in the fact that you’ve been accepting him now, though he hasn’t the slightest idea as to why. He’s checked in with you since the passing, but lately it feels to him like something more is going on with you. He may be somewhat estranged, and he may have his own problems to deal with, but you’re still someone he needs to be here for.

Plus, it makes him feel needed again, which is nice considering the circumstances. After living in this bustling house with you and your mom for so long, to it just being him and your mom, to now just him…all that remains now is dread, dissociation, and unwashed dishes in the sink.

“Did something happen?” Sunghoon keeps his questions short, offering more silence if anything for you to use this call as a therapy session if you need. 

You pause for a long moment, realizing that you want to talk about your issues so badly but don’t quite feel the need to share it with him of all people. You’ve already ranted day after day to Jay. To the point you’re sure he’s about one rant away from blocking your number. 

Probably because you’re not that close to him either. Not these days, anyway.

You sigh instead. 

“No…” You trail off. “I think I just miss being home. My dorm mate is never here, class work is already piling up, and I can’t even find the energy to look at the assignments.” 

Sunghoon can tell you’re feeling much like he does and he can’t imagine the weight on your shoulders dealing with these feelings while also in college. But, you have Heeseung, do you not? You’ve been fine for the most part until now, and you haven’t even brought him up. Not once in the past few weeks has his name been uttered by you. Which is strange, after all, the two of you were practically attached at the hip growing up, to the point of choosing the same college, working the same jobs, and even keeping that middle-school puppy love in full swing throughout highschool and college. 

If anything, after your mother passed, Sunghoon felt okay knowing you had Heeseung there with you to help you through it. It meant he could focus on himself and getting through the day-to-day. He could barely handle his own mournful thoughts, let alone the daughter’s feelings of the woman he loved so dearly. He was forever grateful for Heeseung during this time. 

He has his suspicions now though, and his heart aches for the voice he hears from you these days. 

“Why don’t you come home for a while?” He lends a pause to see if you’ll jump for the opportunity before selling the idea to you. “I have the bills here covered and your campus is only a forty minute drive. I’m sure that’s inconvenient but you won’t have bills to worry about on top of everything else.” He doesn’t want to sound too desperate, of course. 

After all, the loneliness he’s feeling is also becoming unbearable. Even if the two of you never were able to see eye to eye, or to form a bond together, you’re all he has left of your mother. He, arguably, is nothing to you, but there’s no one else in this world he’d rather heal the loneliness with outside of you. Only because you knew your mother on a level deeper than he did, and to have someone to share those memories with, or even laugh with, would help him tremendously too.

“I think being at home may do you some good.” 

You think it over in your head, wondering if being home will help you at all. In reality, you know it may make you feel more trapped than you do now. All those memories with your mother, with Heeseung, with all of your friends that have since moved to different colleges. 

But…you wouldn’t be alone. You’d be with someone who knows how to give you space because he’s never even tried to shrink your existence to that of your bedroom and your bedroom alone. You wouldn’t have to worry about rent, food, or anything aside from studies, gas money, and trying to heal from your heartbreak. 

Your dorm is small, you note as you look around the room and wonder how long it would take you to pack your things up. Two hours, give or take. The longest part would be taking all of the little decorations off the wall, if you’re being honest. 

You find yourself nodding before answering, solidifying in your mind that– maybe you’re not the only one who needs company in your space. Not too close, but close enough to not be totally isolated. 

“Okay.” You mutter into the phone, for some reason feeling the tears well up behind your eyes. 

You’re just a bit overwhelmed, that’s all. Knowing you’re going home feels like a relief you didn’t know you needed. 

“Yeah?” Sunghoon confirms. “Just let me know when and I’ll drive up there to help get your stuff back home.” 

You agree, sighing into the phone with a shaking voice. Sunghoon takes note of it, always remembering and quite frankly missing how loud and obnoxious you used to be. Hearing you like this pains him. He wants to help. Now more than ever is his chance to be someone you need, and he hates knowing he feels happy about it. 

Getting to be your father now? It feels awkward, but at least it’s a feeling other than loss. 

“You know you can talk to me, right?” Sunghoon sighs at you through the speaker. “I know I’m not someone you like coming to but–well, I’d like for you to rely on me more, okay?” 

You find a lot of comfort in those words, despite hearing him say them time and time again. This is the first time he’s ever shown that he means it through the offer of bringing you home, rather than just saying it and accepting whatever you say back to him at face value. 

“I know…” You trail off. “I’m okay though, really.” 

Sunghoon hates himself for never forcing you to accept him. Sure, there may have been some teenage defiance towards him, but eventually the two of you could have seen eye to eye. He could have been someone you needed. You could have relied on him too, rather than just Heeseung. That’s all he can really think right now. 

“Are you sure there’s nothing else going on?” The man nearly pleads in his tone, desperate to have someone rely on him again. “I’ve never heard you sound so exhausted before, I can’t help but worry.”

You’d tell him, but honestly, what grown ass man wants to hear about a first heartbreak? It would just get awkward again, he’d just feel obligated to do something about it, and worse, he might end up feeling like he’s supposed to dislike Heeseung now. 

You choose to remain silent in the final straw that broke your back this semester. 

“Really, I’m just tired.” You nod to yourself as you hold your phone loosely against your ear. “I might not go to class tomorrow and just pack instead. I’ll just call you when I’m ready, is that okay?”

Sunghoon smiles to himself, wanting to mean something to you in a way that can hopefully help you out of this slump. Your mother would be throwing a fit if she heard how you’ve been sounding, he can’t help but take over that role and try to make damn sure you are okay. 

“That’s fine,” Sunghoon confirms. “I’ll call and let them know what’s going on so don’t worry about any of that. Just get yourself ready to come back home.” 

You find yourself smiling, relieved that you don’t have to be the one to contact your school and tell them that…well, you’re breaking your student-lease, dropping your food plan, and need to be reimbursed for partial tuition costs since Sunghoon insists every semester that you purchase tuition insurance. You should no longer be charged to live on campus, or for the facilities within the dorm. 

Knowing you’ll at least get back a couple thousand dollars is a nice change of pace, and already you’re feeling weirdly excited to go back to a space that will likely make you miss your mother more. It’ll hurt, but at least you won’t be alone anymore. 

The forty minute drive to campus feels less horrifying now, and maybe your friends will still come and hang out with you in your actual home rather than a tiny dorm. 

“Sounds good.” You say, as if to end the call before you mutter out again. “Thank you, by the way. Sunghoon, really.” 

・・・・・・・・・・・・・・

Sunghoon knew he was spiraling further and further into his loneliness. He knew it wasn’t healthy either, but now. Oh, now he realizes just how bad it’s gotten as he demonizes himself upon picking you up. 

You haven’t come home since your mother’s funeral, and even on that day he barely remembers what you looked like. Eye contact was never a thing for him, but looking at you now, he sees how much you’ve matured since you went off to college. 

Your once bright, excited eyes have turned dull and empty. The bags under them are heavy from lack of sleep. Your lips appear to be in a permanent state of pouting, though he isn’t sure if you’ve noticed. You appear to have lost weight, which is concerning for him of course, but…there’s something else about you.

Something that sits in the pit of his stomach and rots.

“Uh–” You cough, noting the way Sunghoon looks at you as you try to hand him a large box. “Thank you for helping me move my stuff back…” 

Sunghoon snaps out of his thoughts, grabbing a heavy box and then waiting for you to stack another on top. 

“No big deal,” He mutters, feeling the weight in his hands double as he prepares to carefully carry your things out to his car. “You haven’t come home in over a year, but I’ve fixed up your room for you and went ahead and connected my gaming system in there.”

You nod quietly, feeling awkward for how fatherly he seems.

“Thanks…” You trail off, flopping a pile of your things into his trunk before stopping to look at him. “You look like shit.”

Sunghoon furrows his brows, noticing for a split second how that facial expression you made is very similar to one his wife used to throw at him when he’d have hair out of place, or a wardrobe malfunction. And then he smiles. 

“You’re not looking too good yourself.” He jokes back.

You smile back at him, feeling a bit of the awkward air fizzle away. 

“Well, I’m not doing well, so.” 

You were continuing the joke, but his face falls before yours does. 

“You can talk to me–” He starts.

“I know, I know.” You wave him off. “I’ll feel a lot better once we get back and I can settle in.

There’s a nod from him now, and then silence as the two of you continue to put the rest of your belongings into both his car and your own. 

“Well, I guess I’ll see you in a bit?” You say now, awkwardly.

Sunghoon nods, looking you over once again.

“See you in a bit.” 

   ・・・・・・・・・・・・・・

Shame.

Pure fucking shame. 

Sunghoon knew he needed another presence in this house but upon seeing you again, he knew it may have been a mistake. 

He likes to think of himself as level headed. He’s never gotten into any trouble, never had a stray thought, never cheated, lied, or stole anything. He can’t think of a single thing that he’s done in life to be considered taboo.  But looking at you feels…incorrect?

Indecent? 

You’re his step-daughter for fuck sake but it’s the fact that you don’t feel like you are. When he looks at you, he just sees another person. He did this to help you, he did this to feel needed, to be your fucking father. 

He did not do this to look at you this way or to feel his eye stray even without his intention.

Why do you look so much like her? Why do you do that thing with your pinky when you carry things like she did? You even have a similar smell, probably having picked up on your mother’s habits throughout childhood. 

You being here…It’s like she’s still here. Except it’s you, and he can’t be thinking this way. 

 ・・・・・・・・・・・・・・

This fic will be dark, very taboo, morally bad. Not a grey area, it is blatantly bad. sunghoon will do bad things. Please be aware of your own triggers once it's completed and posted. remember that I write within my own triggers, not yours. That being said! Please do show lots of love if this is a fic you're interested in reading! If you want to be tagged, I have a permanent tag list, there are not any separate tag lists for individual fics so keep that in mind.  ・・・・・・・・・・・・・・

[pathologicalreid]

milk and cookies | s.r.

in which you and Spencer try to bake gingerbread cookies with your daughter, the operative word being "try"

who? spencer reid x fem!reader category: fluff content warnings: toddler tantrums, cookies, presents, christmas, talks about having another baby, it's not explicit but this is technically jareau!reader word count: 1.02k a/n: i put off doing my own christmas baking to write this so here we all are!! i hope you enjoy it!! now, i have pie to make and gifts to wrap!

In hindsight, you should’ve called it off the moment the bag of flour fell on the floor, but Mila had asked for gingerbread men. The last thing you were going to do was disappoint your daughter this close to Christmas.

You weren’t entirely sure she was going to like the taste of the cookies, but she hadn’t stopped asking about them since she saw them in one of her cartoons. At the very least, she’d enjoy decorating them, but you’d likely have to make some regular sugar cookies after this batch was done. Spencer was a fairly impressive chef, but he didn’t show the same aptitude when it came to baking, leaving you to take the lead.

Your focus on the baking and Spencer’s focus on you had left Mila unattended for just a moment too long, which led to the all-purpose flour on the ground. You assured Mila that it was fine while Spencer got the broom and dustpan. “We’ll still have enough, honey,” you consoled her, wiping away tears as quickly as they fell.

She reached out her arms, and with tears in her eyes and a pout on her face, you couldn’t deny her comfort as you picked her up from her stool and let her wipe her eyes on your sweater. “Cookie,” she whimpered softly, looking sadly at the empty countertop while Spencer rid the dustpan of flour. “Daddy, cookie,” she said mournfully, the kind of misery that could only be depicted by an almost three-year-old imagining a world without cookies.

“I know, princess. We’ll get you your cookies,” he told her, putting the broom back in the closet and rounding the counter to kiss her cheeks. The two of you had debated whether or not it would be okay to purchase a tin of gingerbread men, but a previous agreement to give your daughter nothing but the best holiday experiences led you to this point.

It certainly didn’t help that she was now old enough to understand what Christmas meant: presents and treats.

After her first year of life, you’d needed to put the kibosh on random gift-giving, particularly from Garcia. Though you still gratefully accepted Rosemary’s hand-me-downs from Matt and Kristy, Christmas and her birthday were the only times Mila was allowed to be spoiled. Of course, you and Spencer were more than willing to spoil her year-round.

The three of you resumed working through the dough, falling a bit short on the flour, but Spencer assured you it would be just fine. “What if they don’t turn out?” You asked, letting Spencer wrap his arms around your waist from behind as the two of you watched Mila twirling in her dress in the light emanating from the Christmas tree.

“Then you’ll insist on going back to the store to get the right ingredients,” Spencer whispered, swaying gently to the sound of the holiday music, a record gifted to you by Rossi when he insisted that you needed to raise Amelia with “real” music.

You hummed, “And how do you know that?”

“Because I know you,” Spencer reminded you, pressing a kiss to the crown of your head. “Do you think she’ll be okay knowing we didn’t get everything on her list?”

Your face warmed as you recognized the implication, “I think she was influenced into adding that to the list.” Turning around, Spencer kept his eyes on Mila while you looked up at him. Penelope had acted as the scribe for your daughter’s Christmas list. Naturally, the words ‘brother or sister’ were scrawled on the bottom of the list in glittery gel pen.

Spencer’s hands squeezed your waist gently, “Maybe next year?”

Before you had a chance to respond, a small voice rang out from the living room, “Mommy!”

You spun around, watching your toddler run to you, her two braids bounced on her shoulders as she skidded to a stop. “What is it, sweetheart?”

A shy smile spread on her face, putting her arms behind her back as she prepared herself to ask for something, “Peek?” She asked, pointing at the oven, which currently had your first batch of gingerbread women in it.

Nodding, you leaned over and turned on the oven light, letting your toddler gaze into the oven, startling you when she screamed at the sight of them.

Instinctively, Spencer reached down and scooped her off of the floor, resting her on his hip while you opened the oven to see the misshapen cookies. “Oh,” you said, the dough had spread out on the sheet, creating one slab of what was a sorry excuse for a cookie, “it’s okay, Mila.”

There must’ve been even less flour than you thought, and your daughter wasn’t standing for it, “They’re ugly!” Her exclamation took you by surprise, no more than the tears currently streaming down her face did. Gingerbread cookies were obviously not a welcome treat in your household, this is the second meltdown they’ve caused.

“I’m so sorry, honey,” you said, setting the cookie sheet on the range and setting a comforting hand on her back. You watched as she wiped her tears on Spencer’s shirt, “It’s okay, they’re just a little deformed.”

She turned back like she had an answer for you, but as soon as her eyes caught on the cookies, her face crumpled again. Somehow, your lack of flour had managed to completely devastate your two-year-old, and it was putting a pit in your chest. Spencer walked her into the living room, making sure the gingerbread blob was out of sight.

“Hey,” you whispered to her, tickling her side gently, “How about we make sugar cookies instead? Mommy’s really good at sugar cookies.”

Apprehensively, she nodded, balling up her tiny fists and rubbing at her eyes before reaching out for you. She rested her head on your chest, her eyes starting to shut as you swayed, “Ugly cookies,” she whispered.

What she couldn’t see was the smile that you and Spencer exchanged, holding in your laughter. While you understood that she was expressing her emotions the only way she knew, you couldn’t help but be amused at the phrase “ugly cookies.”

[engie-ivy]

949 words

Sirius Black is known as the office Grinch, so what has suddenly gotten into him?

You Make It Feel Like Christmas

You Make It Feel Like Christmas - Gwen Stefani

“You're delusional.”

“I'm not!”

“You must be.”

“No, I swear,” Benjy hisses.

“Well, maybe you misheard,” Hestia offers.

Benjy huffs. “You think I would not recognize ‘Jingle Bells’?”

Emmeline shakes her head. “Anything is more likely than Mr Black humming that song.”

“He was in front of me at the coffee machine,” Benjy says. “And I swear I heard him do it!”

You see, the reason why the mere idea of Sirius Black walking around the office humming ‘Jingle Bells’ is so preposterous, is because Sirius Black is known as the office Grinch.

The man dislikes everything that's even remotely related to Christmas.

When Mary and Dorcas were hanging the Christmas lights, Mr Black commented on energy savings for the office and the necessity of cutting down on the electricity bill. In his opinion, Christmas was a huge waste of energy in its entirety. No one actually knew if he was still talking about electricity.

When the first Christmas song was played on the radio, Mr Black pointedly put on his noise canceling headphones. Plus, he actually has no idea who Mariah Carey is, which is shocking in its own right.

When Edgar came to work wearing his Christmas jumper, Mr Black reported him for inappropriate work attire (though luckily Lily from HR simply told him to get over it).

Moreover, Mr Black constantly complains that Christmas Day is an obligatory day off, instead of him being able to save his vacation hours for, in his words, ‘when he actually needs them’.

He has also called Christmas markets a trick to sell junk no one needs, he's known to think that a gift certificate makes for the best Christmas gift, and that black coffee tastes better than any hot chocolate ever could.

“Okay, I'm actually getting really worried,” Caradoc whispers as they convene at the coffee machine.

“Me too,” Edgar replies in a concerned voice. “Maybe he's come down with some sort of illness?”

“Did you guys hear what he said when he saw the little Christmas tree on my desk?” Mary hisses. “He said it looked ‘nice’. Nice! No eye roll, no sarcastic undertone. Just nice.”

“I almost had a heart attack when I saw his tie this morning,” Emmeline says faintly. “I mean, tiny snowmen?”

Dorcas bites her lip. “Could it be some sort of brain disease?”

“Or maybe he hit his head and he has a concussion?” Benjy offers.

“Should we like… take him to the hospital or something?” Fabian asks.

“Gosh,” Hestia says. “Why are you all so negative? Maybe he just finally caught the Christmas spirit!”

“Excuse me?”

Everyone pauses their work to look at the man who appeared in the doorway to their office. He's got floppy, honey-coloured hair, is wearing a rather tattered coat and is carrying a box with a bow tied around it.

“I'm looking for-”

“Remus!” Mr Black jumps to his feet. “What are you doing here?”

A light colouring appears on the man's cheeks as he looks at Mr Black and he smiles a little sheepishly. “I hope I'm not disturbing you?”

Mr Black closes his laptop without giving it a second look. “Not at all! I can always make time,” says the man who once almost made Gideon cry because he dared ask him a question while he was in the middle of an Excel sheet.

“Great,” the box-carrying man, Remus, grins, and despite the scars on his face, it makes him look strangely endearing. “My mum and I baked Christmas cookies, and we, of course, made way too much for just us, so I thought I'd drop by your office to bring some?”

“That's so sweet of you!” Mr Black happily takes over the box. “I absolutely love Christmas cookies,” says Mr Black, who has never even touched any of the cookies Caradoc baked for the office.

“I see you're wearing the tie I gave you,” Remus says.

“Of course,” Mr Black replies. “It's my favourite.”

“That's good,” Remus smiles softly.

They both just look at each other for a moment, while the rest of the office exchanges looks.

Then Remus averts his eyes and looks down at his shoes. “You know, I was wondering…” He begins. “Would you like to go and look at the Christmas lights together tonight? It may sound cheesy, but they're actually really pretty and it's one of my favourite Christmas activities to-”

“I would love to!” Mr Black replies a little breathless. “I've been really wanting to go and see the lights.”

Mary makes an indignant sound, but both men hardly seem to notice there's anyone else in the room.

“Great!” Remus looks up and beams at Mr Black. “And I was thinking that maybe we could visit the Christmas market and drink some hot chocolate together?”

“I love the Christmas market,” Sirius replies without skipping a beat. “And I'd love to drink hot chocolate with you.”

“Good. Great. Perfect,” Remus says. “So, it's… it's a date?” The colouring on his cheeks increases.

"It's a date,” Mr Black agrees.

Both men stare at each other for a long moment, having completely forgotten there's a room full of people looking at them, people who start shifting uncomfortably in their chairs.

Remus is first to snap out of it. “I… I

I should let you get back to work.”

“Work,” Mr Black repeats, like he's trying to remember what the word means. “Right. Work.”

“See you tonight?” Remus asks.

“Can't wait,” Mr Black replies.

As Remus leaves and Mr Black turns back to the room, everyone immediately turns to their computer, pretending to be working.

Hestia exchanges a look with Emmeline.

Sirius Black definitely caught something alright, but it ain't Christmas spirit.

[nightplvmes]

*.⊹˚ SYLUS | dream come true (christmas special)

── ◜sylus x fem!reader — mini one shot 1.5k words ◜sylus decides to prepare a surprise for her as a christmas present author's note | christmas specials from the rest of the LI on my profile

Christmas wasn't her favorite holiday, but there was something different this year: Sylus was by her side. She knew he wasn't a big fan of the holiday either, she'd noticed, but the idea of doing something together excited her.

"Where are we going?" She asked, letting out a breath. A cloud of smoke came out of his lips, making her laugh. Even as an adult, that still made her laugh. Sylus had been leading her to 'a surprise' over ten minutes ago, but she just didn't see any surprises and she was freezing to death.

"We're almost there." Sylus turned to look at her and a small smile formed on his lips, barely perceptible.

She sighed in frustration and continued walking in silence for a few more minutes. Her gaze was fixed on her shoes and the way they sank into the snow with each step. Sylus had shown up at her house two hours ago, forcing her to get dressed saying he had a surprise for her. She wondered how he knew she had no plans specifically for that day, had Mephisto told him something? Had he spied on her schedule?

"We arrived." Sylus' voice brought her out of her bubble. She looked up excitedly, but her expression changed completely when she saw what was in front of her.

"What is this?" she asked confused, she hadn't even noticed when she had stopped walking, but Sylus had stopped in front of her.

"It's for us." She felt him take her hand and force her to walk with him, she followed him trying not to fall but she was still too shocked to walk normally.

A large ice rink was in front of her. She recognized it perfectly, it was the typical ice rink that the mall put up every year during Christmas. But it was empty.

"Sylus, I told you I can't skate," she muttered, trying to sound annoyed, but she still didn't sound shocked, she had told him that two weeks ago. She had mentioned to him that she had always wanted to do Christmas things like in the movies, like skating, something she didn't even know how to do. She had never tried to learn because she was embarrassed by the looks of the people around her.

"I know. I rented the whole ice rink for us, so you can learn." She blinked in confusion but forced herself to keep quiet. He'd rented the whole damn ice rink… for her.

She remained silent as Sylus helped her into the small space where there were benches to put on her skates. She also remained silent when she put on the skates Sylus had brought for her, she had really thought of absolutely everything.

"Sylus… I'm going to fall." She sighed in frustration as she looked at the ice rink in front of her. It was huge and completely empty, which was comforting.

"You'll be okay, I'll hold you. Come here." She stood up and walked very carefully to the edge of the ice rink. She stood there for a few seconds, there was some snow because there was no roof, but nothing that would bother her.

She blinked as she felt Sylus' arms wrap around her hips. Her body tensed and suddenly she no longer felt nervous about the ice rink… It was Sylus' body pressed against hers and his arms holding her close that made her nervous.

She entered the ice rink slowly. She kept her feet steady because she didn't dare let Sylus go, at least not at that moment. First she needed to find balance.

"Why did you do that?" she asked, letting Sylus lead her. He was actually the one doing all the work, pushing them both across the ice rink. She kept her feet completely firm, she was still too nervous and afraid that the second she separated from Sylus she would end up with her face against the ice.

"You said your dream was to ice skate during Christmas," he replied quietly, his lips too close to her ear. She remembered it, they had watched one of her favorite Christmas movies together. She was surprised that Sylus remembered. "You also said you were embarrassed to be seen."

"And that's why you paid for an entire ice rink?" She tried to look over her shoulder and when she turned her face she noticed how close Sylus was to her. She quickly looked back, feeling her cheeks warm. If she hadn't noticed, she could have accidentally brushed their lips.

Sylus smiled when he noticed the way her face had turned quickly. "Does it bother you?"

"I'm surprised." She shrugged. She knew that anyone else wouldn't have done the same thing, but Sylus wasn't just anyone.

It was new for her, she appreciated every detail that Sylus had with her, but no one had done the same before. She didn't know how to accept anything that came from him without feeling ashamed.

"I'm going to let you go now." She blinked repeatedly as Sylus' voice brought her out of her thoughts. She looked over her shoulder in fear but Sylus was no longer beside her and was not pressing his body against hers.

He pushed her gently, letting her skates slide across the ice. She gasped in a mix of surprise and terror of end up with her face against ground. It took her a couple of seconds to regain the balance and he prepared to catch her if she fell, but it wasn't necessary.

She looked at Sylus with excitement and slowly slid down the ice until she reached him again. He gently grabbed her wrists to hold her and smiled due to the excitement and happiness on her face. When the girl looked up again she met Sylus' piercing eyes, her smile fading slightly due to the nerves caused by the way he looked at her.

"Thank you… for this."

"You did it yourself." He shook his head not wanting to take credit for something so simple.

"I'm not talking about that." She rolled her eyes. She knew Sylus knew she was referring to the whole ice rink surprise.

She looked up at the sky, feeling a snowflake falling on her face, a sign that it was going to start snowing. He had fulfilled her Christmas dream.

[marauder-misprint]

Trust Fund

Sirius Black x Pettigrew!reader

5.7k words

cw: post-hogwarts, swearing, snogging, fluff

Being two years older than Peter, you did your best to not cross paths with him during the five years you shared at Hogwarts. You love your brother. That wasn’t why. You had just hoped that he would make his own path without being seen as your little brother, and he did. You didn’t pay attention to his friends either; you knew they were such a tight knit group that they were still living together now, after Hogwarts. Would you recognize any of them if you saw them out on the street? Probably not. 

You frequented a wizarding club near your apartment that you shared with one of your friends from Hogwarts, Marie. She never came with you, opting to spend time with her boyfriend rather than a room full of sweaty people drinking and dancing. Her loss. 

You usually left the club alone, despite the many times you’d be dancing with someone all night. Because you were such a regular, the bartenders and security guards all knew you, and they knew when you looked ever so slightly uncomfortable and when to step in. Without talking, they could tell when you were done with a person and they’d make sure you were okay when you were leaving. So, you always made it home safe to wake up slightly hungover in your own bed. 

You expect tonight to go no different. You don a simple skater dress; you like the way the skirt would flare as you spin while dancing. Add heels, makeup and jewelry and you’re ready to go. Marie is already gone off to her boyfriend’s by the time you leave. It’s a short enough walk to the club. You tap your wand on the graffiti door in an alley. It solidifies and you’re able to enter. The security guard just nods at you as you pass by some girls who look far too young to be there.

“Hey, why aren’t you asking her for ID?” one of the girls complains.

The guard glares at her and she slinks to the back of her group. You laugh to yourself. You didn’t mind the special treatment you were given as thanks for being a regular. As you step through the second set of doors, you’re greeted with colorful, flashing lights, a thin fog of artificial smoke and the smell of alcohol, sweat and a sweet perfume that you know is misted around intermittently to counteract the sweat. 

You wave to the bartender and he starts to make your usual drink. By the time you’ve moved through the small crowd between you and the bar, your drink is ready for you. You exchange your wand for your drink, as collateral to make sure you pay your tab at the end of the night. You lean against the bar, sipping your drink as you gaze around the club. Music is playing loudly, drowning out any conversation around you. You know you’ll need at least one more drink before you take the floor. Not too many people are here yet and you need more artificial confidence if you’re going to dance on a non-packed dance floor. 

Then the  bartender slides you a drink just as you finish the one in your hand.

“Oh, I didn’t ask for another one yet,” you say.

He leans forward across the bar. “It’s from the gentleman at the end, the one with the curly hair. Taking care of your tab tonight.”

You raise your eyebrows at the bartender after looking where he had briefly gestured. 

“Then, I guess I don’t mind if I do…” you say, picking up the glass and taking a sip. 

You know the guy is watching you, waiting. After a second sip, you abandon your spot to approach him. As you get closer, you see he’s wearing ripped jeans and a black t-shirt that looked like it once had a design or logo on it at one point but had faded away over time. Even closer, you notice the silver jewelry, on his hands, around his neck and in his ears. Damn, he’s attractive.

“So, Trust Fund, fancy a dance?” you ask before taking a sip of the drink he was paying for.

He cocks an eyebrow at you with a wide grin.

“I’d love one.”

You hold out your free hand for him to take so you can lead him out to the floor. It doesn’t take long for the guy to become touchy, but it’s a good touchy. His chest is pressed firmly into your back with his hands on your waist. His cologne breaks through perfumed air and perpetual smell of sweat. You welcome that. As you continue to dance together, his hands wander, down to your hips, back up to your waist, to your stomach and high, to your thighs. You can feel his breath on your neck. He is so close. 

More songs play and you dance face-to-face as well. He’s just as close for that, his hands resting on your arse. Smiles adorn both your faces. You’re so caught up in his grey eyes, which he is unable to take off of you. You feel oblivious to the rest of the club, but it’s not your fault. He’s just so enchanting, so enthralling.

After a few more drinks, a mix of alcohol and water to pace yourself, you excuse yourself for the loo.

“You, my handsome Trust Fund, better still be here when I get back.”

“How ‘bout I get us another round? Meet you here?”

You nod. And he is waiting for you when you return, two drinks in hand as promised. You’re feeling emboldened. You take the drink he’s holding out for you and you slam it. He watches you with wild eyes. He’s enraptured with you. Then he mirrors your action, slamming his own drink. You take his cup and place both of them on a nearby table. Then you grab his shirt and pull him close to you. It’s the kind of action that makes your intentions obvious, and he obliges, bringing your faces ever closer together until lips meet. He tastes of the alcohol he’s been drinking and faintly of cigarettes. It’s anything but gentle and sweet. It’s hungry and fueled by desire. It doesn’t take long for you to be pushed against the wall, his tongue basically down your throat. You had one arm wrapped around his waist and the other hand tangled in his hair. His were groping your arse and holding your hips in place. 

You’re not sure how long you’ve been attached to his face, but you break apart when someone near you says, “Get a room.”

You both laugh, resting foreheads against each other.

“My roommate isn’t home tonight,” you breathe. 

“Yeah?” 

You nod. Suddenly, you’re wearing matching grins. He throws an arm around your shoulder and leads you back to the bar, where he exchanges a small pile of galleons for your wands. You give the employees a sly smile, a silent “I’m okay.” The cool air of the night hits you with a wave of sobriety. The man next to you is still stunningly beautiful, which makes you smile to yourself. 

“You live ‘round here?” he asks, looking down at you.

“Yeah, just a few blocks. What about you, Trust Fund?”

“Same. Not too far.”

You turn in the direction of home, his body following your movements. Every once in a while, he presses a gentle kiss into your hairline. The sweet action makes your heart flutter. You know bringing him back to your flat is a signal for certain activities, but the affection he shows you on the way makes you wonder what will become of this. 

“This is my building,” you say once you’ve arrived.

He takes a moment to look at the street sign and building name. You’re not sure if he’s judging it or trying to memorize it.

“Okay, yeah, I know where we are,” he says after a moment. “I’m a bit that way.” He points diagonally backwards. “Would’ve been funny if we were in the same building though.”

“Well, we’re in the same building tonight,” you tell him, opening the front door and holding it open for him.

He follows you up a few flights of stairs and down the hallway to your door. The way he’s looking around, you think he’s counting each flight, each door you pass, so that if he had to come back without your help, he’d be able to.

“Trust Fund, you want tea?” you offer as soon as you lock the flat’s door behind you.

“Why’re you calling me that, huh?”

“What? Trust Fund?” you reply with a giggle.

He nods, tracing his hands up and down your arms as you stand in your kitchen. 

“Instead of buying me a singular drink, you picked up my whole tab before even seeing if I was interested.”

He hums. “Bartender said you’re there often. Maybe I figured your bank account could use a break.”

“You asked Craig about me?” you tease.

“Craig?” he laugh and runs a hand through his hair. “Of course you’re on a first name basis with the bartender. You’re there often.”

“And I do drink within my means. My bank account is just fine, thank you very much.”

“So you never… go a little crazy?”

You give him a sweet smile and tuck a curl behind his ear.

“I don’t need alcohol to go crazy.”

He gives you an amused smirk before pressing a kiss to your forehead.

“Yes, tea would be lovely.”

Quiet conversation flows naturally over your cups of tea. When the cups are empty, you place them in the sink. You feel his eyes watching you, as if taking your movements around your domicile. You begin to head to your room, but when you turn around, he’s still standing in your kitchen.

“Trust Fund, you coming? you ask suggestively.

He breaks out of whatever thought was holding him captive in his own head. He nods, a wide grin immediately appearing. He follows you into your room and closes the door behind you. Sure, your roommate wasn’t home now, but she came home early, there were things she didn’t need to see. 

---

You wake up to an empty bed. Part of you wonders if maybe you’d had too much to drink last night and the beautiful man you’d brought home was all a dream. That is, until you actually get up. Marie is in the kitchen, sipping a cup of tea. She smiles with a wicked glint in her eyes when she sees you. 

“I see you had fun last night.”

Your hand immediately snaps to your neck. If you had love bites on your neck, then he wasn’t a dream. 

She laughs loudly. “I wasn’t talking about that! Check the fridge.”

You see a note placed under one of the magnets. 

‘Text me sometime -Trust Fund <3’ with his number underneath.

“Trust Fund?” Marie asks after you smile at the note.

“This guy, absolutely stunning by the way, starts off with handling my entire tab before even saying hi. And even if he asked Craig the bartender how much I usually drink, that’s such a ballsy move.”

“And you brought him home.”

“Like I said, he was stunning.” 

“Was he… any good?”

You blush furiously and look away. He had been. The best you’d had in years. 

“I’ll take that as a yes,” she giggles before loudly sipping her tea.

You move to put the kettle on with a roll of your eyes. As you wait for the water to boil, you reread the short note on the fridge. You like his handwriting, full of flourishes and flair. It fit his style. The note itself made your stomach flip. It meant that he had a good enough time last night too, enough that he wanted to see you again. 

You’d be lying if you said you didn’t think about what to text him or when to text him. You didn’t want to come off as too eager, but you didn’t want to wait too long and risk him becoming uninterested or thinking you just got lonely and wanted attention. You’re sitting on the couch with the TV on, but you’re not paying attention to it. You’re staring at your phone. You haven’t texted him yet, but you want to. Boy, do you want to.

“Merlin, just text him,” Marie says, coming out of her room. 

“I don’t want to look-”

“He wouldn’t have left his number if he didn’t want you to text him,” she cuts you off. “I’m sure he’d love to see you again, which he can’t do until you text him.”

“He knows where I live,” you point out.

“That’s just an excuse! Text. Him.”

“Marie,” you whine.

“Do you want to see him again?” she asks, crossing her arms and leaning against the kitchen counter. 

“Yes.”

“Then text him. Doesn’t have to be much.”

“Like I can just say hi?”

“Yes! It’s not that difficult.”

“Says the girl who’s been dating her boyfriend since sixth year.”

“Whatever,” Marie laughs. “Speaking of, I’m off to Theo’s. You better have texted that poor sod by the time I’m back.”

You open your messaging app as soon as Marie is out the front door.

[Hey Trust Fund :)]

Your phone makes a swooshing noise as the text sends. And you wait. And wait. You stare at the phone. The TV provides background noise for your unraveling thoughts. 

Did I wait too long to text? Did I not wait long enough? Was ‘Hey’ the wrong thing to say? What if he left the wrong number to mess with me? What if last night wasn’t as enjoyable for him as it was for me and he left his number to appear polite but has no intentions of seeing me again? What if-

Your phone dings. His message lights up your screen.

{hey sweetheart - sorry i had to leave, work :/}

[Who goes to the club when they work in the morning?]

{fun people}

[Where do you work?]

{trying to stalk me?}

[Curious to see where Trust Fund gets his money]

{the record store on cornwallis ln}

{always slow in the morning}

It’s fitting that he works in a music store; over the tea last night, he talked a faer bit about his favorite bands, one of which was on his shirt, despite it being so faded. You realize you’re smiling at your phone. You sigh and decide to be bold.

[Hope it’s not too forward, but I’d like to see you again. Last night was fun]

He doesn’t respond as quickly as he had been. You click the off button on your phone to make the screen go dark as you begin to internally panic. Maybe it was too forward. Too quick to suggest seeing him again. 

Then your screen lights up again.

{i’d love that - busy wed evening?}

He’d love that. Your panic immediately subsides. 

[Nope, but I am now ;)]

---

He suggested a local cafe that did cocktail nights with live music. He’d been to a few of them before, describing it as a laidback scene, casual. It sounded like a good idea so you agreed. You had spent far too long staring at your closest deciding what to wear, only to end up in jeans and a flowy top. A cute outfit but not as “trying hard” as a different skater dress or a skirt would have been. He had said he would meet you outside your building and you’d be able to walk there together. 

“Hey gorgeous!” he calls out as he approaches you. He’s wearing jeans, no rips this time, and a different band tee. 

You feel more confident in your outfit. 

“Hey Trust Fund.”

“Oh, still calling me that, are you?”

You laugh, “Well, I don’t actually know your name…”

“Never came up, did it?”

“No,” you say, shaking your head. Then you hold out your hand and say your first name.

He takes your hand to shake it and laughs with you. “Sirius.”

“Like the star?”

“Surprised you know it.” You give him a do I look stupid look. “Not in that way! Most people just don’t recognize it.”

You watch him take out his phone and go to what you assume is your contact.

“Aw, I’m there as pretty thing? That’s cute! You should keep it!”

“You are, no doubt. That’s why that’s what I went with. But I like names, nicknames. Helps me keep track of who’s who, you know?”

“Got a couple pretty things in your phone?”

He flushes at your teasing. 

“No,” he says slowly. “But I do have roommates who like to steal my phone and change all of the contact names. If they saw one pretty thing, every. single. contact. would be pretty thing and I’d have to spend hours figuring out which one is you.”

“Well, you’re staying as Trust Fund,” you say with a cheeky smile. “Plus, my brother would probably look at my phone and ask ‘why are you texting a star?’”

“You got a brother?” 

“Yup. Just one. What about you? Any siblings?”

“One brother too. We’re not too close.”

“Huh,” you say. “I’m not close with mine either. Siblings, what can I say?”

You both laugh and start to walk to the cafe. 

---

It quickly becomes a thing where you and Sirius are seeing each other in person at least once a week, and texting and calling multiple times a day. It wasn’t like you were codependent already. Sirius was just intoxicating, you were addicted to him. You wanted to share everything little thing that happened with him, and the feeling was reciprocated. And you wanted to share him with the people around you. You talked Marie and Theo’s ears off about him. 

“You sound absolutely smitten,” Theo laughs one evening when he and Marie decided for a night in at your shared flat rather than his. 

“Smitten?” Marie asks, shocked. “She’s obsessed! Try asking her about her work, about her other friends, literally anything else. She will somehow tie it back to this boy.”

You shrug. “Not my fault all topics lead back to him.”

“Apparently it’s my fault for encouraging you to text him. If I hadn’t meddled in your love life, you’d still be single and I would still have my sanity.”

“You lost that a long time ago,” Theo says, wrapping his arms around Marie.

“Theo, you’d love him.” Your eyes light up. “We should do a double date!”

“At least let me meet him first before you force him upon Theo! I think roommate ranks higher than roommate’s boyfriend!” 

Sirius, on the other hand, kept you to himself as much as he could. While he didn’t gush to his friends about you, they still knew how much you meant to him, even if they didn’t know your name yet. It was the way he jumped for his phone when your text notification echoed through the flat, the way he smiled when you called and then immediately took the call in a different room, the way he spent a little extra time to make sure he looked good before leaving the flat to meet you somewhere. 

“Off to see my girl, later dudes,” was yelled as he left, leaving the boys to share a knowing look.

Sirius was serious about this girl. And for them to get a little more information out of him all they needed to do was get some alcohol in him. They were hosting game night with some of their Hogwarts friends. As always, drinks were flowing and Sirius wasn’t holding himself back. 

“Sirius, I have a question for you,” Lily says, cornering him in the kitchen as he went to retrieve another beer from the fridge.

“Shoot, Evans,” Sirius says nonchalantly. 

“James says you got a girlfriend,” she says. 

He cracks open the beer and takes a swig. “That’s a statement, love.”

“You’re not denying it,” she retorts, a smile creeping onto her face. 

“How come you’re talking about my lovelife with Prongs?”

Lily laughs as they return to the group.

“Talking about it is certainly one way to describe it. More like he was complaining that you haven’t brought her round yet.”

“Who hasn’t been brought around?” Mary asks, looking up from her cards. 

“Sirius got himself a proper girlfriend.”

“Proper?” Mary questions. “How proper we talking?”

“Smiling at his phone and hour-long calls,” Remus answers for Sirius.

“Oh! So this is serious!” Marlene exclaims.

“I’m always Sirius,” he replies as he plops down onto the couch next to Remus.

“So you’re going to tell us about her, yeah?” Marlene says, her voice implying it was more of a statement than a request.

The alcohol impedes his decision-making skills. So the first thing he says about you is…

“She’s on a first-name basis with the bartender at the club where we met.”

Lily chokes on her drink.

“She’s an alcoholic?” Peter gasps.

“No! No. No. She just goes, went? Goes there often. Dunno. But damn, she’s captivating as well.” He hums. “I like her. A lot.”

“He admits it!” James says, nudging Lily. “He admits it.”

“Yeah, I heard him, babe.”

“O’ course I admit it,” Sirius says a snippy. “She didn’t mind going to that cocktail cafe.”

“Still sounding like an alcoholic…” Peter murmurs.

Mary slaps his shoulder. “Be nice.”

“She likes to dance. She danced with me at the cafe,” Sirius says before taking another swig of beer. “We walked around that muggle art exhibit and she actually knew stuff ‘bout it. Like composition and whatnot. She’s smart like that.”

“Drinks, dances and knows art… Sounds like a keeper,” Remus says with a laugh.

“Do you have like cute nicknames for each other yet? Lil pet names?” Mary asks.

Sirius smiles widely. “Yeah! Well, she does for me. She has me in her phone as Trust Fund.”

The group just stares at him blankly, which wasn’t the reaction he was expecting.

“What?” 

“Trust Fund?” Lily asks, furrowing her brows. “So she’s dating you for your money?”

SIrius’ eyes go wide in realization. That nickname needed its backstory.

“No! No, Godric no. The night I met her, I told the bartender I’d pay for her entire tab before I even said hi. So she assumed I had money to fall back on and called me that all night.”

“Certainly one thing to moan in bed…” Peter mumbled, earning himself another light slap from Mary.

Sirius didn’t give him a reaction.

“And then later, she said that if she put Sirius in her phone, her brother would ask why she’s texting a star,” Sirius continued with a laugh.

The air in the room eases. 

“She knows I have a job! And she does too. Honestly, the Black fortune hasn’t come up. She’s not like that.”

“Sirius, we believe you,” Marlene says. “What is she in your phone?”

“Her name with a black heart emoji.”

“Classy,” Remus slurs.

“Shut up,” Sirius says, but his words have no bite.

He’s just smiling into his beer can. 

The next day as he’s cleaning up from game night, Sirius steps into Peter’s room. If he was going to run the dishwasher, he wanted all the dishes and Peter had a habit of hoarding his used cups. A picture of Peter’s family on vacation sitting on the dresser catches Sirius’ eye. Peter is really young in the old photo which Sirius assumes was taken sometime pre-Hogwarts. He can’t help but think the girl standing next to Peter looks vaguely familiar. He probably just recognizes her from Hogwarts, being that she is Peter’s sister, he tells himself, unable to completely place the face. He doesn’t think much of it, grabbing two rather large stacks of cups and leaving Peter’s room. 

In the kitchen, he organizes the cups into the dishwasher and starts it up. Then he moves around the living room, picking up wrappers and cans. 

“Since when do you clean up after game night?” Remus asks, leaning against the doorframe of his room. His voice is scratchy from just waking up.

Looking down at the rubbish in his hands, Sirius says, “I guess since today?”

“What’s eating your mind then?”

“Huh?”

“Padfoot, I’ve lived with you for about half my life. You’re acting like an elf. What’s going on?”

“Just thinking about her.” 

“And that has you cleaning?”

“She’s just… unreal.”

“Unreal,” Remus repeats back to him. 

“Haven’t felt like this about a girl before, Moony. All those Hogwarts girls? They don’t compare.”

Remus chuckles and stands up straighter before walking over to Sirius. He places his hands on Sirius’ shoulder.

“Sounds like you fell quick and hard, m’friend.”

“Fell…”

“If you like her more than all the girls from school… Sirius, you might be in love.”

---

“Hey, Wormtail, where you off to? I thought we were having roommate dinner?” James calls from the kitchen of the boys’ flat. 

“I told you I couldn’t tonight,” he says as he pulls on a coat. “I got that family dinner.”

“Ugh, I forgot!” James groans.

“Is it like national family dinner night or something?” Sirius asks, joining James in the kitchen. 

“Dunno, why?”

“Girlfriend’s got family dinner tonight too.”

“Speaking of,” Remus says from where he’s sat in the living room, “when do we get to meet this amazing chick?

Sirius shrugs. “Whenever I decide she’s ready to handle a game night with you bastards.”

“Alright, that’s it. I’m outtie!” Peter calls before the front door slams behind him and the rest of the boys hear the lock turn. 

“Just give us some warning before she comes over, yeah? We’ll clean up a bit,” Remus says with a wink. 

“And if it’s for a game night, we can invite the girls too!” James adds. “Lils, Marlene, Dorcas, Mary. The whole gang.”

“Yeah, and we can invite Reg, and Evan and Junior, and Pandora too. Then I’ll take her to meet my parents immediately after,” Sirius replies sarcastically.

The boys give him blank looks.

“The whole Hogwarts gang might be a bit much. You lot are a bit much, but not much I can do ‘bout that,” he explains.

“Aw, he doesn’t want to scare her off,” Remus coos, joining the other two in the kitchen.

“No, I don’t,” Sirius says firmly. “Now what are you making, Prongs? I’m getting hungry.”

“Spaghetti. Remus, what sauces we got?”

Remus opens the cupboard with a squeak. “Ah, looks like red sauce, red sauce number two, white sauce, green sauce… third red sauce.” 

“Eh. Pick one of the reds.” James looks over his shoulder at Sirius, who is leaning against the counter. “For a girl you’re obsessed with, we still don’t actually know her name.”

---

Peter’s already there when you arrive at your parents’ house. He’s talking with your dad as they set the table. Your mum is in the kitchen, putting the finishing touches on dinner. 

“Smells like I arrived just in time!” you say, taking off your coat.

“I’m setting the table, you’re clearing it,” Peter informs you.

“Darling, go help your mother bring the food to the table,” your dad says.

You do help your mum set the table and you sit down as a family. Since you and Peter don’t live too far away, your parents try to have dinner once a month to catch up. Your dad rants about the people he works with. Your mum discusses the gossip from her book club. Peter starts talking about a movie that he saw with some of his roommates. 

“Oh, I saw that movie with my boyfriend!” you interject.

“You have a boyfriend?” your mum asks, clearly intrigued. “This is new!”

“Yeah, it is. Only been official for a week or so now.”

“You were going to tell us… when?” your dad asks.

You roll your eyes. “I was going to, Dad. I’m an adult, I don’t have to tell you about everyone I date.”

“There’s more?” your mum nearly exclaims.

“Not really, no, but the point is I don’t have to tell you. Until I’m sure they are sticking around for a while.”

“Yeah? You like this one?” Peter asks, putting down his fork. 

“I do, Pete. He’s a good guy.”

“Didn’t you say that about your fifth year boyfriend?”

You snort a laugh. “Don’t go bringing Diggory into this.”

“So, where did you meet this fellow?” your dad asks, trying to avoid a sibling argument. 

Peter never liked Amos Diggory and, while he had treated you kindly for a while, Amos ended up cheating on you. You shut down for a while, which you still think is a perfectly normal reaction, but Peter was concerned for his big sister. 

“Ah, um, well,” you stumble over your words. “This little cafe near my flat.”

You were not going to tell your parents that you met your boyfriend at a club. Meeting at a cafe was a much cuter scenario that kept their internal image of their pristine daughter. You assumed they knew you weren’t pristine, but it was one of those things you don’t talk about with your parents unless you have to. It was easier that way. 

“That’s nice, sweetie. Pete, you seeing anyone?” your mum asks, taking the attention off you for a moment. 

Peter blushes. “No. Been focused on work.”

“Whatever happened between you and that girl… what’s her name… She went to school with you?”

“Really narrows it down, Mum.”

“Martha?” 

“Mary?” Peter all but gasps. He blushes deeper. “Nothing ever really happened with her.”

“So that Appleby Arrows?” you ask your dad. 

Peter didn’t need to discuss a failed attempt at a relationship with your parents. The fact that they knew about it was embarrassing enough. You knew the two were still friends; from what you had heard, he wanted a relationship and she didn’t so they somehow managed to be friendly for the friend group’s sake. Peter gave you a thankful look and you both filled your mouths with your mum’s cooking as your dad started ranting about the most recent match and the horrendous officiating. 

---

“Didn’t we go to school with someone named Sirius?” Marie muses later in the week.

When you first told her your boyfriend’s name, she laughed. It’s just such an odd name, she had said. And now, she was thinking they knew someone else with that name, especially after she told Theo and he brought up school. 

“Probably? He’s a wizard living in London. I would not be surprised if he went to Hogwarts.”

“But surely we’d recognize him then.”

“I don’t know. I guess I’ll ask next time I see him. But I can’t say I really paid attention to anyone younger than us, so even if he did, it doesn’t matter.”

“I keep forgetting he’s younger!” she exclaims. “You usually go for the older dudes.”

“Older dudes go for me,” you correct her, a smile playing at your lips. “Sirius just works though, you know?”

“If he makes you happy, I’m happy. I’m not the one snogging him on our couch.”

You laugh. “At least I do it when you’re not home.”

“And I go to Theo’s.”

You clink your glasses in solidarity. 

---

You’re laying on the couch with Sirius, watching an American forensic TV show, when you remember that conversation with Marie. You figure now is as good of a time as any.

“Sirius?”

“Hm?”

“Did you go to Hogwarts?”

“Uh, yeah, I did.”

You hum. “What house were you in?”

“Gryffindor?”

“Oh! You probably know my brother then.”

“Yeah?” he says, looking down at you in his arms. “What’s his name?”

“Peter.”

Sirius sits up, forcing you out of his embrace, with his eyes wide.

“Peter as in Peter Pettigrew?”

“Yeah.”

You move out of his way as he stands up and begins pacing. You watch him, unsure of his reaction.

“Sirius?”

“I’m dating my best friend’s sister? How did… what?” 

My best friend’s sister. So that meant that he was Peter’s roommate now too. You couldn’t take your eyes off of him. Sirius is pacing and muttering confused fragments to himself.

“Sirius?” 

“You’re a Pettigrew?” he asks, pausing for a moment to look at you.

“Yes. Is that a problem?”

He doesn’t answer right away. That stings. He runs a hand through his hair and starts pacing again. The girl in the photo in Peter’s room is you.

“No, it’s not a problem,” he says after a few paces. “It’s just… just… very, very unexpected?” 

You stand up and go to hold his shoulders, stopping his pacing. 

“It’s good we figured this out before we ended up at your place, yeah?”

He groans but it’s lighthearted. “Godric, that’d be embarrassing.” He pauses as he thinks. “Shit, that’s going to be embarrassing. ‘Hey, Peter. This is my girlfriend. You know her as your sister.’”

Sirius forcefully rests his forehead on your shoulder. You card your fingers through his hair to comfort him. 

“Well, it’s that or you wait for a Pettigrew family event and I introduce you as ‘Sirius, my boyfriend, and Peter’s longtime best friend.’”

“That’s not any better,” he says to your shoulder. 

“We have to tell him at some point.”

“Do we?”

“Probably. Guess it depends on how serious this is.”

“This?”

“Us.” You pause and lean backwards so Sirius has to lift his head back up. “There is still an us, right?”

“Yeah, yes, of course,” he says rushed. “Sorry, my brain is-”

“Taking it all in. Yeah.” You offer him a soft smile before it falls from your face. “Wait, so what’s your surname?”

He laughs. “Legally, Black. Sirius Orion Black. But the Potters basically adopted me when I ran away.”

“Potters… Jake or something?”

“James.”

“Ah… How did our surnames never come up?”

“You were the one who calls me Trust Fund.”

“You’re a Black!” you exclaim, dots connecting. “You are a trust fund! I knew it!”

“Dating me for my money are you?” he teases.

“You paid my tab first. That’s on you.” You lean up to kiss his nose. “And then you won me over by being irresistibly you.” 

“Aw, don’t make me blush.” 

“I think it’s my life goal now.” 

lol this has been sitting in my drafts for a while - was fun to write and polish up

[trippinsorrows]

midnight sun + two

authors note: really wasn't expecting the response and interest the first part received. thank you so much! 🥺 as previously stated, this is going to be heavy. please be mindful of your mental state before consuming this content.

words: 3.3k

warnings: angst, domestic violence, violence against women

song inspo: 'faithfully' by journey

one

It takes some digging. 

Requires blowing off some dust and the occasional angrily tossed objects, but he eventually finds it almost an hour into searching. The amount of time that could easily be used for other things, but none strike him as important as this. 

More dust has to be wiped off the box that he hasn’t seen or touched in over 15 years. 

Roman sits on the edge of the bed, careful with his movements, recognizing the fragility of the worn thing. Opened, there’s a strange feeling that settles over him seeing the contents, all drawings and artwork. But, it’s namely the largest item that lies at the bottom that evokes such emotions. Smaller pieces partially obscuring the view, slowly, his fingers move underneath it, gingerly pulling it out as he sets the box to the side and focuses on the item in hand.

A different time. A different person almost. Seeing the drawing of himself from that time in his life also brings up more confusing feelings.

Especially pertaining to the artist who created it for him. 

2003

Solitude has always been his companion, a preferred thing over most people in his life who don’t understand him. Who only mean him harm, pain, and betrayal.

That’s why one of the first things Roman did was confiscate and make the only loveseat in the common area his. A possession from day one that no one has seemed to question or challenge, largely because everyone knows why he’s here and subsequently don’t want to get on his bad side.

A smart decision.

It’s farther away from the rest of the seating options, another preferred thing that allows him to zone out with the help of the headphones over his ears. An escape. Isolation.

Solitude has been the only companion granted to him in this life. 

That and Rosalia. 

But, as she’s not an option anymore, so he settles for what remains.

Except, it’s short lived, because with expert peripheral vision, he’s witness to a scene unfolding. Roman doesn’t necessarily need to hit pause on his Walkman to see what’s going on, but he does it anyway. 

“Give it back!” Her voice is far too sweet, way too innocent. It makes him scowl. “Please!”

Roman directs more of his attention to the young girl he’s noticed in passing since his admission, the faded bruises on her face along with her bandaged wrists some of the first things to catch his attention.

It doesn’t take much to see why she’s there. 

She’s younger than him by almost four years at fourteen to his seventeen going on eighteen, but he also can’t ignore the fact that she looks older than what she is.

More developed than most girls her age.

And judging by the three pricks playing hot potato with her sketchbook, stupid looks on their equally stupid faces, he’d bet that’s why they’re messing with her. Sick enjoyment at the sight of her chest moving as she attempts to pry her book back. 

“Please!” She begs, and it only makes his scowl deepen. Her voice is annoying, but what’s more annoying is the fact that the fucking useless staff here are doing nothing to intervene. 

Not surprising though.

In Roman’s experience, adults don’t help out and protect children.

Just feed em’ to the wolves. 

Or are the wolves themselves. 

“You want it back?” One of them sneers, a haughty look on his pimpled face. “Show us your boobs.”

She freezes, terror rendering her still as she asks in a low voice, “w–what?”

“Yeah, show em!” 

“I bet they’re—”

Whatever was going to be said will never be known, it’ll never be known due to Roman decking the son of a bitch in the neck. The other dumbasses only further cement their stupidity by turning their glares onto him.

“You really fucked up.”

One goes to hit him, an easy dodge as Roman uses his elbow and rams it into the back of his head. The third is the most unlucky, Roman tossing him to the ground and pummelling him, a sick thrill filling him as he imagines someone else. 

Imagines it’s his piece of shit, abusive father underneath his unrelenting fist. Imagines it’s his blood spilling all over again, life fading from his pathetic body.

A sick fill, indeed. 

But, it’s short–lived, because security is yanking him off, yelling some shit at him that he doesn’t give two fucks about. 

“Get the fuck off me!” Roman overpowers the guards, sending them both to the floor and he moves to walk away, unsurprised that no one comes after him. Their goal was simply to separate and break up the fight, not penalize him for said altercation.

They know fucking better than to try that shit with him of all people.

The heir to the Bloodline Empire. An empire that now technically is already his with the “death” of his pussy of a father. 

A murder.

A murder done at his hands.

“Ummm.”

Roman has just sat back down on the sofa when he hears it again. That voice. Slightly less annoying but way too close. Because looking up, he sees she’s standing only a few feet away from him, hugging the sketchbook to her chest. 

And just like that, the scowl returns, “what the fuck do you want?”

She opens and closes her mouth, temporarily looking down almost in embarrassment. “I just….I wanted to say….thank you.”

Roman’s sneer falters just a bit. 

Thank you...

He can’t remember the last time someone other than his little sister uttered such words to him. 

If ever.

Confused as to whatever the fuck is coming up in him, he easily dismisses it and her. “Good. You said it. Now leave me the fuck alone.”

A glance at her face reveals a small frown that’s followed with her leaving  to walk away but not before she stops and turns around, a small, unsure smile replacing the frown. “I’m Solana, by the way.” He meets her gaze, warm locking with cold. “Solana Miller.”

And when she turns to walk away, it only makes sense he lets her do so. But, that’s not what happens. 

“Roman,” he’s offering for reasons unknown, weirdly settled in a sense by the return of her small smile. “Roman Reigns.”

—----

Present

Walking back into the coffee shop, it’s only then that Roman becomes more aware of just how much this place really does scream Solana. Soft, pastel colors make up the color schemes. Random artwork with color palettes that match the painting and positive quotes that match her.

It’s exactly the kind of place he’d expect to be hers. 

It’s when he walks over to the counter that he’s met with the one thing in here that is most definitely not Solana.

A young woman who looks like she either just walked out of a rave or satanic ceremony looks at him with icy blue eyes. Her black lips are curved into an almost mocking smile when she asks in an accented voice, “can I help you?”

Roman gives her a one over. She must be part of some damn work program. “Where’s Solana?”

The woman scoffs, crossing her surprisingly buff arms. It’s clear as day that she stays in the gym. “Why do you wanna know? I’m the manager. I can help you—”

“I don’t need you. I need Solana.”

He’s trying for the sake of not wanting to cause a scene at Solana’s place of business, but this Wednesday Adams looking bitch is really trying it. 

“How do you know her?” She suddenly asks, partially taking him by surprise. “I saw you here the other day talking to her. You two seemed…..friendly.”

It’s the fact that Roman didn’t notice this bitch that day as well as the fact that she’s snooping that has him putting her in her palace. “That’s none of your damn business.”

But, she doesn't cower away, instead metaphorically puffing out her chest. “Look, I know exactly who you are, and I don’t give a damn. Solana is one of my best friends. She’s already got one piece of shit man in her life. She doesn’t need any more.”

“You know her fiancé?” He asks, now interested in whatever information she might have. “Cody, right?”

She nods, a bitter expression on her face. “Unfortunately.”

Her response is very telling. “You don’t like him.”

The follow up answer is filled with an equal amount of disdain. “I don’t like any man who gets off on beating the shit out of women.”

It’s one thing to suspect, even know for oneself. But, it’s another to have it confirmed. Roman's fist forming at his side accompanies his clarifying question. “He hits her?”

She says nothing, and it’s then he picks up on the extent of her discomfort. She’s obviously unsure with how much to share and how much to withhold, even if she’s already shared more than expected.

“Look, Solana and I….” He fucking hates talking to people in general, especially about his personal life, but this woman clearly has information he needs to know. And while he’s certainly not above torture, it’s not the preferred route in this situation. “We were friends when we were younger, but we….we lost contact years ago.” He adds, voice genuine. “I have no intentions on hurting her.”

Never has. Never will.

“Solana won’t leave him,” she finally relents after a few minutes of silence. “She gets….defensive when you ask too many questions or try to call her out on all the bullshit excuses she makes for all the bruises and black eyes.” She shakes her head, a sudden sadness in her eyes. “He’s broken two of her ribs before, broke her nose, her her wrist, put her in casts. And she mostly chalks it up to bad falls.” Crossing her arms, she says in a quiet voice. “He’s going to kill her one day. I just….I just know it.”

When hell freezes over.

Imagining all the cruel and vile ways he’s going to dismember this son of a bitch, Roman inquires. “‘How the hell did they even get together?”

“She went to some fancy ass business owner thing about a year ago. They met there, and he pursued the hell out of her. At the time, she thought it was sweet. Looking back now, it’s obvious he was preying on her.”

Roman says nothing, taking in all of the information, something about that meeting, the fact that it was a business thing along with the name Cody, prompting him to ask. “Wait. Is her fiancé Cody Rhodes?”

She scoffs. “That’s him.” Roman looks away, cursing quietly. “Why?”

He remains silent, partially confused as to what Solana could have ever seen in someone like Cody but also now recognizing that killing him won’t be as easy as he initially thought.

Because Roman knew the moment he saw Solana react with so much fear just at the mention of this Cody person, that he was going to kill him. Further cemented with how jumpy she was.

 But, Cody Rhodes being the Cody in question massively fucking complicates things given the decades long truce between the Nightmare Factory and the Bloodline. The Factory doesn’t fuck with the Bloodline, and the Bloodline doesn’t fuck with Factory.

But, him killing Cody Rhodes, the fucking leader of the Nightmare Factory, will most definitely fuck with that truce. It’ll void it, thus starting a nasty, brutal war.

He can’t have that. 

The Bloodline can’t have that.

But, Roman also can’t have that bleached bitch beating on Solana. 

Or worse.

“I need to talk to her,” he announces, gaze on the woman who seems to be opening up more and more by the minute. “When is she scheduled to work again?”

Sighing, an answer is supplied that only pisses him off more. “She was supposed to come in today, but she called out sick.” Roman snarls. Sick, his ass. “She should be here tomorrow though. Works the evening shift.”

He nods, making a mental note to clear his schedule. “I’ll be here.”

She eyes him with skepticism. “Look, she’s got enough she’s dealing with. If you’re going to make things worse—”

“I’m not,” he interrupts, voice harsh, glare returning. 

And, she doesn’t back down. Doesn’t deter from a glare that would have most people cowering. One thing for certain, while Solana may be engaged to a monster, the woman before him is a different kind of monster. A useful one to have on her side. “Then what the hell are you going to do?”

Roman notices the tip drawer on the counter and pulls out his wallet, sliding a crisp hundred dollar bill and placing it in the jar. Returning his wallet back to his back pocket, he leans over just enough so he can answer in the calmest, eeriest voice.

“I’m going to rip Cody Rhodes apart limb by limb.”

—-----

His heavy, sweaty body plops down beside her, face up, his gaze on the ceiling. The sound of his loud, uneven breathing further exacerbates her discomfort, disgust filling her at the feel of his seed spilling out of her. 

Solana doesn’t hesitate to turn on her side, wanting nothing more than to get as far away from him as possible, to rush to the shower, to cleanse herself and scrub her body raw from the feel of him on her.

But, she knows how this goes. Knows that she has to wait for him to fall asleep before she can do that, has to ensure that he’s done.

And the minute she hears it, turns and sees that he’s in fact asleep, she peels the blanket off her naked body and makes her way to the bathroom.

Tempted to lock the door, it’s a declined decision knowing it will only wield a negative, painful outcome. 

Turning the knob and stepping under the hot water, Solana allows it to rain down on her body, soothing the lingering aches and pains from the most recent beating. She also doesn’t hesitate to take the shower head, angling it up to her vagina, doing her best to wash away his sperm. An unnecessary thing given the fact that she’s on birth control and always consistent with it, it just helps her feel better.

As best as one can feel in this situation. 

Standing under the comforting water until her body begins to prune up, Solana steps out, wraps a towel around herself and uses her hand to wipe the fogged mirror, providing a slightly cloudy view of herself. A view that immediately brings tears to her eyes. 

The bruises. The cuts. The internal injuries. The pain no one can see and only she can feel.

Tears streaming down her face, it’s impossible for her to not think of her. To not think of how she’s become the very same person she swore she would never be.

Her mother.

“God.” Solana jumps at the sound of his voice, naturally moving her hand to the knot on her towel that keeps her wet body hidden. He stands in the doorway, leaning, dressed in only boxers. “Do you have any idea how beautiful you are?” Once a compliment that made her blush, it now only invokes nausea. “How much I love you?”

Another sickening thing, but not nearly as sickening as what she makes herself say next. “I—I love you, too.”

He makes a sound, walking over, Solana backing up when he tugs her to him, his hand gliding over her damp shoulder blade. “Say it again.”

A painful, tortuous thing. “I—I love you, Cody.” Delight fills his gaze, an infrequent but hopeful thing as she decides to take a risk, to shoot her shot in one of the few opportunities given. “B–baby?”

“Hmm?”

Her body naturally trembles as she powers through her fear and the terror that fills her being. “I was—I—I was wondering if…..if I could go visit my mom and sister.” He doesn’t say anything, but the movement of his finger ceases. “It’s just—I—I haven’t seen them in over a y—year, and she—my mom—I know she’s worried—”

“Solana, Solana, Solana.” And right then and there, she knows this was one of the worst things she could have ever done. “When will you learn?”

Before she can process what’s happening, before she can even fix her mouth to apologize, sheer pain courses through her body as he grabs her by her ear and slams the side of her face down on the bathroom counter. 

Her body crumbles to the floor as she feels the blood suddenly spilling from the side of her head. Cody crouches down in front of her, face turned almost animalistic, “do you think I’m fucking stupid!”

Crying, she shakes her head and attempts to keep the towel together. “No, no, of course—”

Solana cries out when he grabs her by her hair, pulling her to her feet, yanking her head back, one hand wrapped around her throat, restricting her breathing. “Do you think you can fucking try to leave me?”

She’s gasping, small fingers prying at his hand. An answer is practically impossible with the strength of his grip. 

“I own you! You understand me! You belong to me!” He shouts, once again slamming her face down on the counter. Solana is almost seeing stars, red liquid seeping down the middle of her face. “I fucking told you already. If you ever try to leave me, I’ll kill them. I’ll kill them fucking both!”

Another painful reminder that matches the pain multiplying through her body at his brutal, vicious assault. An evil smile crosses his face as he stares at her through the mirror. “Or, maybe I’ll just kill that bitch mother of yours, huh? Kill her and sell that pretty sister of yours to the highest bidder.”

Solana’s eyes widen, her fear extrapolating as she cries harder. “Please—please don’t—”

“Shut up,” he roars. A stinging punch to her side that would have her doubled over if not for his returned grip to her hair. “If I have to ever remind you of this shit again, I’ll slice you up and feed your body to the fucking dogs!”

A promise followed by him tossing her to the floor and a final kick to her side. “Sleep in here, you ungrateful bitch. I don’t want to see your fucking face tonight.”

Solana jumps when he slaps the light off and slams the door shut. 

The silence and loneliness is welcomed, a rare safe space in her world that has in a matter of a year become anything but.

It was stupid, silly of her to even try to think that she could get away with such a thing. Even if she truly had no intentions of trying to escape. Never would. Not if it means the unspeakable horrors being done to her are extended to the two people she loves the most.

Or worse.

She just truly wanted to see her family. 

Wants to see her family. Her home. The place that carries so many good memories, memories that fade with each day spent in hell.

The tears continue to cascade over, the hollowness in her chest and soul expanding by the minute.

Legs pulled to her chest, a long forgotten tune from such a different almost as painful time in her life returns to the forefront of her mind. Conjoined with the contact name still sitting unused in her phone. 

Journey

Lyrics from a song shared with her from the most unlikely person spilling from her mind and out of her mouth.

“Just a small town girl….” Soft singing accompanies a heavy weight that nearly collapses her chest. “Livin' in a lonely world….” It’s the most she can get out before her sobs overwhelm her. 

Left alone in darkness, it’s hard for her to tell where the rooms’ begins and hers ends. 

[fandom-imagines-stories]

Not a Creature Was Stirring

Declan O’Hara x Reader

Words: 2677

Summary: Christmas at the Priory gets more complicated with Maud can’t make it back from London. As Declan’s girlfriend, you try to step in to still make it a perfect holiday for him and his kids. Needless to say, things don’t exactly go according to plan. 

Notes: With my love for Aidan Turner, you guys had to know Declan would be joining my list of stories eventually! I love him so much and I’m happy to have him as the subject of my Christmas imagine this year. I hope you all have a happy holidays, whatever you celebrate and a wonderful new year! (and if you recognized the Poldark quote I totally stole, no you didn't)

-

T’was two weeks before Christmas and all through the Priory, everyone buzzed with holiday spirit. Patrick and Caitlin were back from school, Taggie was busy making hors d’oeuvres for all of the holiday parties she’d been hired to cater and you were enjoying a book by the fireplace. The only one who seemed unable to enjoy the season was Declan. He stomped about, going through receipts and orders and cards. His brows furrowed and his mustache curved with the harshness of his frown. 

“I can’t make sense of any of this,” he huffed. “Everything from the last ridiculous party she planned and I still don’t know what to do.”

You set your book aside. Even though Declan and Maud were no longer together, you knew her approval still meant a lot to him. That, and now that he was the face of Corinium, he was expected to be a bit of a socialite as well. 

“Why doesn’t she plan it herself?” You asked. 

He hated getting into the details of these things. As long as there were good drinks and decent music, he seemed happy. 

He ran a hand through his dark curls and collapsed onto the sofa beside you. 

“Because she won’t get here until Christmas Eve.” Declan blew out a long, tired breath. “And the kids have been hounding me about having something here for weeks. I think they’re too cooped up. Tired of the house. Tired of me.”

Caitlin had complained more than once about her ongoing boredom. 

You brought your legs up, draping them over his lap as you turned to face him. His hand found your calf, rubbing circles to soothe both you and himself. 

“Why don’t you let me do it?”

“Do what?”

You flicked his arm. “The planning, silly.” 

“You want to plan Maud’s party?” He scoffed. 

“Sure,” you shrugged. “How hard can it be?”

Declan grinned, snickering.

“What?” You asked. 

He just shook his head and kissed your cheek, pulling you closer as he stared into the fire. 

-

He’d tried to warn you. From the moment you volunteered to take over, Declan had told you it was not a task for the faint of heart. Especially since you were convinced the party had to be as extravagant and special as Maud’s would be. He wanted to tell you there was nothing to prove. That you didn’t need to dazzle everybody and put on some grand show. But you seemed excited to help, so he didn’t say anything. Besides, it was nice to focus on his work rather than invitations to people he’d rather not have to see more than he already did. 

Taggie knocked on the door of his office, apron covered with flour. “Have you seen Y/N?”

Declan glanced up from his papers. Bills he couldn’t pay and assignments he didn’t want. 

“She isn’t here?”

Taggie shook her head. “I was going to ask what she wanted me to make for the party.”

They looked at each other for a while until Declan shrugged.

“I have no idea,” he said. “She hasn’t told me anything.” 

“You mean you aren’t helping?” 

Declan scoffed. “I haven’t exactly had time, Taggie.” He put the papers aside. “And she won’t let me.”

“She won’t let you?”

“No. She won’t let me.”

She sighed. “Reminds me of me.” 

Taggie muttered, while it was nice not to be in charge for one, she felt a twinge of guilt thinking of you trying to throw everything together on your own. 

“If you find her, tell her I want to talk to her,” Declan said. 

Taggie snorted. “Right. Talk.”

“Your sister is rubbing off on you,” Declan groaned. "Run off."

Taggie left snickering. 

Declan tried to focus back on his work, but couldn’t. Maybe Taggie was right. Was he expecting too much of you? He wasn’t exactly known for his observation skills when the subject wasn’t an official or celebrity he wanted to tear apart. He didn’t want a whole fuss of a party anyway and now he was letting you bend over backwards to make it happen. He sighed, running a hand down his face. It was too late, of course. Declan knew if he said anything, you would assume you’d done something wrong. 

Your current situation did little to help. Having spent the last two hours haggling over second-hand decorations, you still didn’t have enough for both the entry hall and the dining room, not to mention other areas of the house. Plus, you’d need to repaint most of the wooden tree decorations, patch up the banners, and glue the ceramic snowman back together. The rest was a haphazard collection of string lights, ornaments, and brass angels you bartered for a steal. For you, it was enough. But for the O’Hara’s? For Declan? 

It was hard not to feel cast into a shadow when his ex was who she was. 

“Why couldn’t Maud be a minimalist?” You groaned. Maybe the girls could help you dig up some more decor from storage. Surely they had a snow or two tucked away somewhere. 

Stars… 

Now that gave you an idea. 

-

12 hours. That’s all the time you had left to prep the best Christmas party Declan’s family could have.

No pressure, right?

With the decorations set- you nearly broke your neck putting them up- now all you needed to do was make enough food for all the people you invited. Taggie had offered to help, but you insisted she spend Christmas Eve about town with her siblings. Of course, this left you standing in front of a dozen empty pans and no idea how to fill them. 

“How does she do this?” You muttered to yourself, looking over the recipe for the thousandth time. Mince pies, cranberry tarts, figgy pudding… it all could have been delivered, but making it yourself was cheaper. You knew money was tight, not that Declan would ever admit it. So it would be the best- and most affordable- Christmas party. 

Declan walked into the kitchen just as you were putting the first round of mini pies in the oven. 

“Maud called,” he sighed. He smoothed his wild curls only for them to pop out again. “She can’t make it.”

You almost dropped the pudding. “What?” 

“She can’t come home for Christmas.” He tried to keep the frustration out of his voice, but you heard it all the same. “Apparently there’s a big party with lots of directors who might cast her, so she’s staying in London.”

“Oh.” You turned away so he wouldn’t see your face fall. It was silly, really, to be upset. But you hadn’t realized how much you wanted to impress her until now. 

“I’m sorry, love.” Declan came up behind you, wrapping his arms around your waist. “I know how much work you’ve put into all this.”

Secretly, a small part of him was relieved, though it was a shame the kids wouldn’t see their mother on Christmas. 

Your back stiffened against his chest. 

“This is all the more reason to have this magnificent party,” you said, shrugging him away so you could get back to work. “It’ll be good for Patrick and the girls.”

Declan stood to the side, watching fierce determination overtake your features. 

He exhaled, surrendering. “Alright, love.”

-

The kitchen smelled like smoke and blackened fruit. Coughing, you pulled the tray of unsalvageable tarts from the oven and set them aside. You’d been so busy finishing up the decorations that you’d forgotten about them entirely. You opened the window despite the chill to let out some of the black clouds and godawful odor. 

Just half an hour before guests would start arriving and you’d just ruined half of the desserts. Pouring yourself a glass of whatever was closest, you just hoped they’d be content with free liquor after dinner. Maybe they’d get too drunk to care. 

“Are you setting fire to the entire neighborhood, because if so, at least spare my dogs.” A familiar snark sounded from behind you.

“Rupert? What are you doing here this early?” You gasped, wiping your hands on your apron. “Declan hasn’t had enough whiskey to tolerate you yet.”

“Then you should have invited more people,” he teased. Rupert entered the kitchen, leaning on the counter. “Why don’t you have Taggie help you? She’s perfect at this.” The admiration in his voice was hard to miss, but you ignored it.

“Because she deserves to spend Christmas with her family, not stuck in here with me.”

He raised a finger to point out you counted as family, but you interrupted. 

“And what do you mean, invite more people?” You put your hands on your hips. “I invited half of the Cotswolds.” 

Rupert winced. “Yes, well, that explains this then.” He pulled something from his jacket pocket. A stack of filthy, water-stained envelopes. “I didn’t find them til this morning. Postman must have dropped them in the garden when he got chased off by the dogs.” He handed the ruined invitations over. 

You stared at them, a lump forming in your throat.

“You mean… no one is coming?”

“I’m afraid not, darling.” He plucked a not-charred tart from the tray and popped it in his mouth. “But isn’t this better. A more intimate gathering with your mustachioed man?”

You shook your head, running your hand through your hair, breathing starting to pick up.

“Maud is staying in London,” you blurted. “So the family is without their mother for Christmas and I thought I could-”

“Replace her by throwing some ridiculous party?” He chuckled. His face fell, however, when he saw your lip quiver. “Darling, you know no one expects you to be Maud, don’t you?”

You looked away. 

“Nobody wants that.” He stepped forward. “Y/N, I’m sure they don’t. I’m a little relieved she’s not here, to be honest. She was always a bit much.” 

Shaking fingers struggled to untie your apron. You tossed it aside. 

“I have to go.” You hurried for the door, grabbing a bottle of wine from the counter. 

“Y/N-” He started. 

The door slammed shut behind you. 

Rupert watched you go, sighed, and stole another tart. 

-

As the O’Haras piled into the main hall, Caitlin pinched Taggie’s arm, spotting the Minister of Sport coming out of the kitchen. 

“I didn’t know he was coming,” she whispered excitedly, earning a stern glance from their father. 

Taggie gulped. “Neither did I.”

Both watched their father put on a tight smile and approach the other man. 

“Rupert.”

“Declan.” Rupert’s smile was genuine, if not a bit arrogant. “I’m afraid I’ve been the bearer of bad news to your lovely Y/N,” he said. “All her invitations were lost to my flower bushes, left undelivered.”

“So there’s no one coming?” Patrick frowned. He’d hoped to meet some of his father’s good-looking TV hostess coworkers. 

“First mummy, now the whole town. Whatever will we do?” Caitlin said, eying Taggie and scooching her forward. When that didn’t work, she poked her brother. “Patrick scared them off with his terrible poetry.”

Patrick rustled her hair, making her squeak in protest. 

Declan ignored them. He ran a hand down his face and looked around at all you’d set up. You hadn’t even gotten to turn the lights on. 

“She seemed rather upset,” Rupert said, noticing Declan’s concern. “Ran off into the night. Very dramatic.” He leaned forward. “Perhaps you should go find her, hm?” He gave him a knowing look. 

Declan’s heart sank. He knew this wasn’t about the party. Not really. He just wished he’d realized it sooner. And before Rupert Campell-Black.

Starting for the door, he stopped, grabbing Rupert’s arm. 

“Don’t-” He narrowed his eyes, “-touch anything.”

He hurried off.

Rupert turned to the remaining O’Haras. 

“So,” he clapped his hands together. “Who knows where Declan keeps his best scotch?” 

-

He found you sitting on a snowy stump at the edge of the property. Declan watched the deep, shimmering green fabric of your dress sparkle in the moonlight, shifting as you lifted the bottle to your lips. You didn’t seem to see him approaching, eyes trained at the stars. 

“You look-” He sat beside you and kissed your cheek, “beautiful.”

“I don’t feel beautiful,” you muttered, taking another swig. The wine stained your lips a reddish purple but you didn’t care. Nobody would see it anyway. “I failed, Declan.”

“You didn’t fail.”

You scoffed. “The dessert is burnt, the decorations are literally hanging by a thread, and- oh yeah- none of it matters because no one is coming.” You raised your arm for another drink, but Declan grabbed the bottle, bringing it to his lips instead. 

Despite your efforts, your lip trembled. 

“I just wanted your family to have the perfect Christmas,” you said. 

“Is that what you think I care about?” He asked. “The extravagant party? The guests lined up down the pather?” Declan took your hands in his, trying to warm them from the chill. “Y/N, you’ve gotten me to look forward to a holiday for the first time in ages.” He brought your hands up for a lingering kiss. “Just by being you.” 

Your shaking stopped, tears chased away by his soft smile. You snatched the bottle back.

“Flattering will hardly make me feel better, Mr. O’Hara,” you teased. 

He raised a brown and leaned forward. 

“Does this?” He kissed your lips. “Or this?” Your jaw. “Or maybe…” The spot behind your ear. 

“Declan,” you breathed. 

He kept his lips by your ear, whispering. “You don’t have to be any more than you are, to be enough for me.”

Now, your tears returned for a different reason. Throwing your arms around him, you crashed your lips into his, forgetting what you’d been so upset about. Your hands found his hair, tangling those perfect black curls around your fingers. He reached one hand around you to hold you closer while the other rested on your thigh, creeping ever upwards. 

“If nobody is coming, can we start to eat?” Patrick called out over the lawn, making you jolt apart. 

You bit back a laugh, Declan’s face turning pink. “Go ahead!”

“Little bastard couldn’t wait ten more minutes?” Your frustrated boyfriend whined. 

“Ten minutes?” You stood, holding out your hand to help him. 

Declan pinched your upper thigh and scooped you up, both actions eliciting a squeal from your lips as he carried you back. 

-

“Ready?”

“Yes!” They all cheered, impatient.

You giggled, holding the switch captive in your hand. “You don’t look ready.”

“Get on with it, Y/N,” Caitlin whined, “turn them on!”

A chorus of pleas joined her. Declan just laughed, giving you a wide grin.

“You heard them,” he said.

“Alright, alright.”

You flipped the switch. All at once, the main hall lit up, and not just around the tree. Lights strung up above their heads created a canopy of color. Rupert turned on the speakers, filling the space with music. Exclamations of awe and excitement sounded all around you.

“Come on,” Caitlin said, dragging her siblings out to dance with her. Taggie glanced at Rupert, blush flooding her cheeks. He simply motioned for her to go on and dance.

Declan grabbed your hand.

“It’s perfect.” He kissed you deeply, making your knees weak as though he held you up in his embrace.

Caitlin made a teasing sound of disgust, but Taggie couldn’t help but smile. She didn’t think she’d ever seen her father so happy.

Rupert leaned over to you as he strutted to join the others. 

“Told you so,” he whispered. You reached to smack him, but he shimmied out of the way.

“Told you what?” Declan asked. 

You curled a black strand around your finger. 

“That I didn’t have to prove something to be loved by you.”

He pressed a kiss to your palm.

“For once, Rupert and I agree.” He lead you out to dance, swaying slowly despite the cheesy song. 

“Merry Christmas, Declan.” You kissed him again, nuzzling closer. 

“Merry Christmas, my love.”

And so you all spent Christmas dancing to overplayed tunes under flashy, colorful lights. 

And it was perfect.

[cigarettesaftersae]

02 i'll like you - My World

⋆.ೃ࿔*:･ Series: reo mikage x f!reader | contains : fluff, angst, jealousy, academic rivals, fake dating

new year, new classes, and reo mikage, a disgrace to your pride and ego

-

The air was still, save for the faint wisp of a breeze that whispered through the schoolyard. A quiet hum of chatter filled the space as you stood there, unnoticed by the others.

“Nagi Seishiro? Oh, you mean that kid with the white hair?”

“The one who’s always sleeping?”

“Yeah. I heard he just games all the time. Kinda a bum, don’t you think?”

Their words floated around you, but your mind raced faster than you could process. You stood frozen, the sting of their judgment hitting harder than expected. Images swirled in your mind, fragments of thoughts and feelings painting a confusing picture.

“…Y/N? Don’t tell me you zoned out again?”

“H-huh? No, no! I didn’t!” you stammered, trying to collect yourself. “I just… didn’t expect him. So, what do you like about him?”

The question slipped out before you could stop it, but deep down, you already knew the answer wasn’t going to be easy to hear. Your heart clenched, the faint ache of something unspoken making it hard to breathe.

“Well…” Yuna began, her cheeks flushing with a rosy hue. “I was at the convenience store, and, um, I didn’t bring enough money. He just paid for my things. He was so nice and generous. I know everyone thinks he’s lazy, but… it’s like love at first sight.”

Your stomach sank, but you pushed it aside. Smiling brightly, you grabbed Yuna’s hand in encouragement. “That’s… That’s wonderful, Yuna!”

“R-really?” she asked, her own smile widening.

“Of course!” you assured her.

Yuna’s excitement only grew. “Well, in that case… do you like anyone? Come on, there has to be someone!”

You laughed nervously, shaking your head. “Pfft, as if. I don’t like anyone.”

“Oh, I know that look,” Yuna teased, her curiosity piqued. “Tell us!”

Mira joined in, grinning slyly. “Come on, spill it!”

Cornered, you blurted out, “Uh… um, it’s Reo Mikage! You know, purple hair, charming…?” He is not charming at all.

Mira raised an eyebrow. “The Mikage kid, huh? Not a bad pick, but, uh, you do realize every girl is after him, right? And Naomi? She’s all over him.”

“Haha… yeah,” you laughed awkwardly, hoping the topic would drop quickly. But the weight of the situation pressed heavily on your chest.

Back in class, you barely paid attention as the teacher droned on. You twirled a pen between your fingers, staring at nothing, stressed about everything—Nagi, Yuna. It was all too much.

“Psst.” A folded note slid onto your desk. Opening it, you read the bold, red-inked scrawl: Y/N, I NEED YOUR HELP!!! – YUNA :P

Suppressing a laugh, you glanced up to see Yuna giving you her best pleading expression. The amusement didn’t last.

“Is something funny, Y/N?” the teacher’s voice cut through the air. You jumped. “Maybe you’d like to share with the class?”

“Uh—no, sir. Nothing’s funny.”

“Then you must be paying excellent attention. What’s the formula for this problem right here?”

Panic rose. You didn’t recognize it—despite studying all night. Just as you were about to crumble, a voice chimed in.

“It’s the quadratic formula: ax² + bx + c = 0.”

You turned to see none other than Reo Mikage, his smug expression making your blood boil.

“Thank you, Y/N,” the teacher said sarcastically, emphasizing your name in a way that only made you cringe further.

Later, you groaned in frustration as Yuna tried to apologize. “If you hadn’t passed that note, none of this would’ve happened!”

“Sorry, sorry!” she laughed. “How was I supposed to know the teacher was lurking?”

“It’s whatever,” you sighed. “What did you need help with, anyway?”

“The quadratic formula,” she teased, stifling a giggle.

You glared at her. “I swear…”

“Okay, okay! Joking! But, um, actually… I want to join the game club. You know, since Nagi’s in it.”

Your silence stretched for a moment. “Do you even play games?”

“Uh… I played Roblox with my little cousin once?”

You buried your face in your hands. “You’re joining because of Nagi.”

“Maybe. Okay, yes! I can’t help it!”

Sighing deeply, you relented. “Only because I love you. Fine. I’ll help.”

Yuna squealed, pulling you into a tight hug. “You’re the best! Can we start today?”

With the last class ending, unlike walking home with Yuna or staying after school for club activities, you’re staying after school for club activities WITH Yuna to help her out with your crush. And that was how you found yourself dragging Yuna to the club after school. You open the door to the club room, filled with tables of ongoing rows of computers, outlets here and there, some members playing League, and most importantly, there was no Nagi Seishiro. Which kind of made you sigh in relief.

“He’s not here…” Yuna mumbled, disappointed.

“He sometimes comes late,” you offered, trying to cheer her up. “Come on, let’s meet the co-leader so you can join.”

Sitting through her interview was an experience. The co-leader, a stereotypical nerd with thick glasses and a bowl cut, “Now last question, d-do you play genshin impa-”

“Do not finish that question.” You warn. “And Yuna don’t even answer it.”

“Isn’t it that one cool Chinese game?”

“Ah! so you know about it” He excites

“I just told you not to finish that question,” you grumbled as he lit up at Yuna’s response.

Before the conversation could spiral further, the door creaked open. Both you and Yuna turned instinctively. There he was—Nagi Seishiro, focused on his phone, his white hair catching the dim light.

Yuna’s eyes sparkled, but yours darkened as you spotted someone following behind him. Reo.

When had they even become friends? And why did it feel like your entire world was slowly unraveling?

note

.

.

.

the genshin thingy was a joke guys ive been playing it since day one I'm a d1 pro at it

[zaine-m]

more first reponders au

Jayce fully thinks Viktor is a civilian when he first sees him. Viktor was coughing, sitting on the curb, taking a break from treating people in the fire. Jayce was overwhelmed cause it was his first time actually responding to a fire so when he saw Viktor he was like "yes I know what to do (and also I can help this hot guy)" and started treating him for smoke inhalation but Viktor was trying to stop him and eventually asked "are you new?", "umm, yeah, how could you tell?", "because most firefighters would be able to recognize a paramedic's uniform" "ohh" "go treat the civilians" "yes, of course"

Caitlyn is teasing Jayce about it later but he immediately switches to how she was begging him to put in a good word for her to the cute red haired firefighter earlier that day. He does still try but as soon as he mentions the police station Vi starts ranting about how they're all corrupt pigs.

Caitlyn decides the best way to get close to Vi is to get close to her sister, Jinx. Which does not go well for her, Jinx is always trying to steal her service weapon and hindering her investigations. She asks Jinx if she needs help in any of her school subjects and Jinx ends up getting her to do her assignments under the guise of 'tutoring' and Caitlyn is pissed when she finds out that Jinx is getting straight As.

Eventually Vi stops by to drop off something to Mylo and Cait ambushes her. "So Jayce told me that you don't think fondly of the police"

"yeah I guess you could call it that"

"Well maybe you could come along with me one day on a ride along, learn what we actually do"

"I think I know what you all do, cupcake"

"Well you can always learn more"

"I know enough"

"come on, give it a try"

"listen if it weren't for you violent, uncontrolled pigs my dad would still be alive so maybe you can back off, okay?"

[milkywaybesties]

i did. more writing. the gay people have captured my brain. no, im not sorry

Cleo’s Halloween parties were fun. Grian never said they weren’t. But when it came to their friend group, things were… a bit chaotic. Grian, of course, definitely contributed to the chaos, but even he would say that this year’s party was excessive.

Joel, Martyn, Skizz, and some others were all making a commotion in the center of the room. They were playing Uno, and apparently things were getting very heated.

There was music playing, not synced up, from maybe three different speakers. And with all the voices and shouting, it was loud.

And with the motion, and the lights, and the itchy fake feathers on Grian’s parrot costume…

He needed to leave.

But he and his siblings had gotten a ride with Impulse and Skizz, and the four of them were having so much fun… 

Tim was sitting on a couch, laughing with Tango (the two were bright red, and Grian was totally going to tease Timmy about it later). Pearl was sitting on the kitchen counter, eyes fixated on her best friend next to her, clearly not fully focusing on what Gem was saying. Grian knew that, if asked, his twin would say she was only staring at Gem for the joke of the costume, a moth staring at the lights in Gem’s hair, but everyone knew that was a lie.

And Impulse and Skizz, their ride home, were playing Uno. And they were all laughing and enjoying themselves. Grian couldn’t ruin the night for them.

So he had ended up hiding in a side room. He wasn’t entirely sure what room, or how he got there, but he was laying on something soft. Maybe a bed? And it was dark. And a little bit quieter. Not silent. But better.

Light spilled in through the opening door. Grian squinted and let out a small noise of distaste.

”G?” A voice said from the doorway, before closing the door and approaching, “You okay, birdie?”

Grian turned his head slightly towards the voice, but it was hard to see who it was in the dark, and everything was so loud that he couldn’t recognize the voice.

”Hey, it’s okay,” they comforted, “Why are you crying?”

Grian was confused. Was he? He didn’t think he was. But that would explain the wet cheeks and dry throat.

”Is the party too loud?” When they weren’t given a response, they continued, “Okay, I’m gonna be right back and get you some snacks and water, you stay here.”

Grian’s mystery friend went out the door. Grian stayed there, in the dark, and not long later, he heard someone climbing down from the top bunk of the bed. Top bunk? Was it Scar and Bdubs’s room? That must have been Bdubs.

”All this noise,” he complained, “Can a man sleep around here?”

As he approached the door, Grian heard it open, where Bdubs greeted someone on the other side, “Hey Scar.”

Ah. It was his partner. 

“Hey Bdubs,” Scar greeted back, “Where are you going?”

”To see if I can get mom to turn this stupid music down,” he grumbled, “Who plays three different songs at once anyway?”

”Good plan,” Scar said, with all his usual cheer, “I’ll be in here!”

With that, the door closed, and Grian could hear Scar limp closer to the bed before sitting down next to him.

”I brought water! And pita chips,” Scar said, “If you’re not hungry that’s okay.”

Grian rolled over, and looked up at his boyfriend. “I’d take some water,” he croaked.

Scar handed him the bottle, and he sat up to take several greedy gulps before setting it back down.

Without another word, his partner held his arms out to Grian, and he collapsed straight into the man. They sat there for a while like that, and the music outside quieted while they were.

The door opened, and Bdubs came back in. He was approaching the ladder to the top bunk when he paused and casually remarked, “Mom and Dad broke up.”

”What?!” Scar jolted upright, still holding onto Grian, “Cleo and Etho broke up?! When?!”

”They were breaking up basically right when I walked out there,” Bdubs explained, climbing up to the top bunk, “I didn’t ask why. I’m too tired for that. It’s past my bedtime, for goodness sake!”

Grian pulled away from Scar. He was good on cuddles for now, and Scar clearly was going to keep prying information from Bdubs, for very understandable reasons. Instead, Grian tuned out their conversation, letting it become background noise, while he turned to the untouched pita chips Scar had brought him.

Oh, did his boyfriend know him well.

[ryleektv]

Can you write something for Lorenzo Berkshire and have it be where he love it when you wear pink? Like it’s his favorite color on you! Like one day when y’all are in his or your room and y’all are making out and then he sees you wearing a pink bra and then he checks to see if it’s a set and it is! So then it just leads to smut! If you don’t want to write this I’d understand.

AHHHHH omg the fact that i got this the SAME day i dressed up in all pink to go watch wicked is INSANE (wicked is absolutely amazing btw) like full glinda coded eyeshadow and pink eyeliner and everything. also i am sick (AGAIN, ive quite literally been sick constantly for the past 3 months bc my immune system might as well not exist)

anyways i hope this is good enough pooks

Favorite Color

(on his favorite girl)

bf!lorenzo berkshire x f!reader

WARNINGS: smut, unprotected p in v, fingering, ummm biting?, whipped Lorenzo, not proofread, lowkey not Toxic!Lorenzo??? SUMMARY: Lorenzo's favorite color was famously red. But on you? Pink all the way.

WC: 1.4k

"Hey, princess- okay then." Lorenzo stopped in the doorway, his hands up as he dodged the shoe you threw in his direction. "Why're you so pissed off, hm?"

You groaned out incoherent swears at him before flopping over onto your back, leaving you bed sheets warm where you had been. "What do you want?"

"To spend time with my beautiful sweet girlfriend and find out who pissed in her tea?" He questioned as he took a careful step forward. "What can I do, honey?"

"I don't know." You mumbled with a heavy sigh. "Don't hate me, but I don't think I wanna do date night out tonight."

Lorenzo took another few steps before sitting down at the edge of the bed, his thumb delicately brushing your cheek.

"I'd never hate you. You sure you don't want to go out? I know you love getting all dressed up to show off."

You watched him carefully as his fingers traced over your t-shirt. You'd gotten half way ready, your hair and makeup done perfectly, before you realized that not only was your dress in need to be washed, but it was pouring out, and your picnic date was a complete waste.

Lorenzo, of course, was quick to call and ask if you wanted to just go get dinner at a restaurant instead, to which you agreed. But, none of your other clothes seemed good enough, and to make matters even worse, you found out last minute that you flunked on an important Potion's exam.

"I don't even have anything to wear," You complained quietly, resting your head on his thigh and tugging the blankets back up so you'd stay warm.

He looked over at the piles of clothes thrown everywhere, but like a smart man, didn't say anything.

"Can we just stay in tonight?"

"Of course,"

"That is not realistic, I mean, who the hell stabs someone like that? And- and blood doesn't just spurt our like that unless you hit an artery." Lorenzo tutted, still tracing circles on your shoulder with the tip of his index finger. "That's just not how it works."

You looked up at him with furrowed brows, your head rested on his chest as you watched the horror movie on the screen with your boyfriend. "Why the hell do you suddenly know so much about the logics of stabbing? Should I be concerned, Enzo?"

"No, I'm just saying. There's science behind this stuff, and if the were really that interested in spending what I assume to be millions on making this movie, you'd think they would at least put a little research into it."

"You're psychotic."

"It turns you on, though." He looked down at you as he wiggled his eyebrows jokingly.

You rolled your eyes with a smile and turned back to the television and watched as the killer proceeded to drag the protagonists dead body towards the woods.

"Deny it, maybe?"

You burst out laughing and looked up at Enzo who was watching you with a mixture of concern and amusement. "Oh, baby, I'm not denying shit."

Lorenzo's brown eyes stared down at you with a sparkle you could recognize from a mile away, his lips brushing up into a smirk.

"Enzo," You whispered, fully intending to spur him on.

His lips immediately crashed to yours, his hands tugging you closer as yours went to his hair.

You let out a soft sigh, eliciting a quiet groan from Lorenzo as he seemed to try to pull you impossibly closer to him. You could feel him already touching all over you, exploring every inch of your body as if it was his first time near a woman.

Still continuing your quickly escalating make-out session, he maneuvered the two of you so he was propped up over your body, his teeth nipping at you bottom lip before his tongue met yours in a familiar dance.

His hands came back to your hair, stroking over it as you pulled at him, both of you already breathing heavily into each other's mouths, gasping in each other's air as it got hotter.

And because Lorenzo would rather die than do it himself, you gently pushed him up so the two of you could breathe properly for a moment, his wild eyes staring down into yours as he gasped for breath, his lips swollen and wet as he grinned.

"Go lock the door," You murmured, four words that drove him mad, quickly scrambling off of you and practically running to the door as he fumbled with the buttons of his shirt.

If only he'd put as much effort into his school work as he did locking the door when you'd ask.

You sat up slightly, pulling the oversized t-shirt over your head to reveal the pink lace bra you'd planned to wear for your restaurant date.

Lorenzo shuddered out a breath as his eyes dropped to the bra, lips parted slightly as his eyes softened. "Fucking hell,"

His gaze hovered over your breasts before looking up at you with a questioning whisper, "Is it?"

"Why don't you come see for yourself?" You grabbed his belt loop with your middle finger, pulling him over to you before rejoining your lips with his as he climbed back over you, smiling into the kiss as you lifted your hips to help as he slowly pulled down your shorts.

You watched as his eyes darkened at the sight of your matching pink panties, Enzo's fingers rubbing slow circles on your clit over the fabric as you let out a soft sigh of relief.

"I don't think I tell you enough how beautiful you are." He mumbled against your lips as he slowly pushed the fabric of your panties to the side and easily pushed two fingers into you.

You let out a gasping moan, pulling on his hair as he curled his fingers hard inside of you, picking up the pace as flashes of heat grew all over your body in pulses.

"Enzo- shit- fuck me, please just-" You cut off with a whimper. "Just fuck me already." You practically pleaded as your eyes welled up with tears at the pleasure of his fingers curling perfectly inside you, his thumb starting up rough circles on your clit.

Lorenzo must have been like a dog in heat tonight, because he was clearly too desperate to make you beg, instead just undoing his belt and pulling off his pants and boxers faster than you'd ever seen him before.

His tip pressed against your entrance as he rested his forehead against yours, letting out a groan as he slipped in, your back arching at the perfect fit.

"Oh, fuck, Enzo," You breathed, arms wrapping over your shoulders as he started slowly thrusting in and out of you.

He buried his face into the crook of your neck, gently biting at your flesh as he sped up. "You feel so good, princess."

Your head tipped back as you felt his fingers speeding up as they circled your clit again, making the knot in your stomach form far faster than usual.

You pressed your hips back against his, meeting it time with his thrusts and pushing him deeper inside of you as you listened to his moans pressed into your skin, your own mouth agape as you whined at the sharp tug of your skin between his teeth.

"Oh, Gods, Enzo- Enzo, I'm so fucking close." You moaned into his hair, nails digging into his tensed back as you closed your eyes, legs shaking slightly.

"C'mon, I've got you." He pulled away from your neck, kissing the corner of your mouth. "I am too."

With one more thrust you tipped over the edge, vision going blank as you gave way to the waves of please, heat coursing through your body as if your blood was replaced with lava, chest heaving as tears slipped past your waterline, rolling down your cheeks before Lorenzo gently kissed them away.

You wrapped your legs tighter around Lorenzo as he was about to pull out, interrupting his panicked glance, "I'll get a vial." You breathed, with less than a second difference before he was finishing inside of you, the both of you moaning at the feeling.

Lorenzo flopped down on top of you, wrapping his arms around your waist as his face buried in your chest. "I love you,"

You brushed back his hair with the tips of your fingers, pressing a kiss to his forehead. "I love you, too, Enzo."

i kinda hate this too but thats okay bc i wrote it was 3am and thats excuse enough

requests are open as always and i promise i am in fact still working on a slytherin boys christmas im just severely behind

[sheerfreesia007]

Twilight Zone

Pairing: Lee Felix x Reader

Word count: 4,014

Content warnings: Angst, infidelity

Summary: It’s the holiday season and to show good faith you agree to spend some time with your father before leaving for vacation with San. But what happens when there’s an unexpected guest to your father’s home?

Part One: Greedy

The clacking  keys on your keyboard are duly muted as lively Christmas music plays throughout your office while you work, you hum along to the music as a soft smile graces your face. The Christmas season is going to be here soon and you’re excited since you had been invited to San’s family Christmas vacation not only by San but also his mother and sister Haneul. 

You were actually really excited to spend the holidays with San and his family because ever since your divorce from Felix you had pulled away from your father. He had been upset at your decision to divorce Felix instead of staying and working it out with him. And while you had tried to explain to him why you weren’t able to do that he had ultimately told you that he would’ve preferred if you had stayed with Felix.

That knowledge had stung quite a bit and had caused you to keep your father at a distance since the divorce. He had tried to reach out to you but after finding out that he had wanted you to stay with a cheater instead of standing up for yourself had made you realize that your father was still misguided in his way of thinking. The distance had been hard for you because your father was your only remaining parent since you had easily cut your mom out of your life after her affair, but with time San and your therapist had helped you get over the hurt of needing to keep your father at a distance. It was better for your mental health to take a step back from your father.

Just as you can feel yourself start to spiral with the reminder that you’re not as close to your father anymore your cellphone begins to ring with San’s ringtone and his silly contact picture pops up on the screen. You smile widely at the picture before taking a moment to save your work on your computer then pick up your cellphone to answer his call.

”Hey Sannie.” You coo into the phone with a warm smile. 

“Hey there sweetheart. Are you almost done with work?” He asks fondly and your eyes dart to your computer screen before falling to the digital clock in the corner of the screen.

”Yeah I should be leaving here in half an hour.” You told him pleasantly. When you went to open your mouth to ask him what he wanted for dinner tonight your desk phone began to ring and you frowned softly at it as your eyes darted over the screen to see your father’s cell phone number displayed. “Hold on San, my dad’s calling my work phone. Can I call you right back?” You ask him distractedly as your eyes continue to stare at your father’s phone number on the display screen.

”Of course babe. Just remember take deep breaths, you’ve got this!” San encourages you sweetly and you smile fondly at him before hanging up with him. You then pick up your desk phone.

”Hi Dad.” You greet your father and cringe slightly at giving away that you’ve recognized his phone number.

”Darling! How are you? It’s been a while hasn’t it?” Your father greets you and the smile that San had pulled from you dimmed slightly at the reminder that you needed to keep your distance from your father for your mental health.

”Yeah it has been. It’s just been a little busy here at work.” You tell him a half truth and he hums in response. “What’s going on Dad? Is everything alright?” You ask him curiously wondering what he had called you for.

”I wanted to invite you and San for a few days to the house to celebrate Christmas. Have you already made plans are do you have some free time to come visit with me?” Your father explains and asks you causing you to frown softly at his words.

”San and I are going to spending Christmas with his family in a ski resort in the next town over. We’ll be there from just before Christmas til New Years.” You tell him and hear his soft sigh in response.

”Alright so your Christmas is booked. But could you come visit before Christmas? I’d like to see you for the holiday.” Your father says in a disappointed tone and you bite your tongue to curb the desire to try and fix his disappointment for him.

”I’ll have to talk to San and see if he’s available.” You tell him honestly.

”Well San doesn’t have to come if he’s not free. I’d like to see you for Christmas if that’s possible.” Your father tries to cajole you into agreeing already to spend time with him close to Christmas.

”I’ll double check with San and I’ll let you know. How does that sound?” You reiterate and hear your father’s soft sigh at your stated boundary.

”Fine, that’s fine darling. Just let me know if you two can make it.” Your father says exasperatedly and you frown as you hear his tone turn harsh and hard.

”What dates were you looking at?” You ask him curiously as you easily pull up your calendar on your computer.

”How about the three days before Christmas Eve?” He asks hopefully and your eyes dart around your calendar before humming softly.

”We’ll have to leave early on the twenty third to get there in time for Christmas Eve. How about we come stay with you on the twenty first and twenty second?” You compromise and your father huffs softly at your words.

”I mean if that’s all you’re willing to give me.” Your father snips out and your eyes narrow irritated as you stare at your computer screen.

”If you’re going to have an issue with what I’m willing to offer than we don’t have to come.” You snap back at him and suddenly your father is backpedaling.

”No, no, I’m sorry. I just miss you darling. I’d be so happy to see you on the twenty first and the twenty second. Find out from San if he’s available and let me know.” Your father says hurriedly. “I hope you guys can make it! Call or text me later when you find out from San. I love you darling.” He says quickly before hanging up the phone. Frowning at the receiver in your hand you hang up the phone before picking up your cell phone and dialing San’s number wondering what had gotten into your father and feeling a pit forming in your stomach.

*-*-*-*

On the twenty first you find yourself staring up at your old family home while sitting in the passenger seat of San’s car. There’s a feeling of unease within you and you can’t place why it’s there. Ever since the phone call with your father he’s been a little more attentive towards you and while you don’t normally respond to him like you used to you still keep the line of communication open. But it all has just been sitting with you weird and you can’t put your finger on it.

”Hey, what’s going on in that head of yours? Everything alright?” San asked softly as his hand slipped into yours and interlaced your fingers. You turned to stare at him he smiled softly before raising your hand and pressing a soft kiss to the top of it. “Tell me.”

”I just feel off. Something doesn’t feel right. He’s been too talkative, too involved almost. It’s like he’s trying to butter me up for something.” You say softly and San looks over at you worriedly.

”We don’t have to go if you don’t want to. If you’re feeling too uneasy about this we don’t have to go.” He reassures you and a smile slips onto your face, the fact that he’s adamant now about having your back whenever you have a bad gut feeling. It was such a nice change from last year when everything went down with Felix. But as you stared at him you knew that with him at your side you’d be able to get through this visit unscathed.

”No, I’d rather just get this over with. Just stay by my side.” You said to him softly with a weary sigh and he frowned softly at your words and the tired look on your face. “I feel like if I don’t go through this visit I’ll regret it and never hear the end of it from my Dad.” You confessed softly and San’s face softened at your admission.

”That’s not really the best reason to have a visit with your Dad. But if you’re sure about this. I’ll be there right by your side the whole time.” He promised solemnly and you smiled sweetly at him before leaning over the center console and kissing him sweetly on the mouth.

”Thank you.” You whispered against his mouth and he hummed softly before pulling you into a deep kiss.

”Darling! You made it!” Came your father’s loud cry and you reluctantly pulled away from San to look out the windshield at your father. With another tired sigh you nodded your head and stepped out of the car. Raising your hand you waved at your father before walking to the back of the car where San eagerly met you and popped the trunk to grab your things. He then let you lead him up towards the house where you father waited for you excitedly.

When you walked up the steps and were close enough your father pulled you into a tight warm hug. You returned the hug but still felt slightly off in his embrace and it made you pull back sooner than you normally would which made your father frown softly at your reaction. He held your shoulders and let his eyes trail up and down your body before grinning widely at you.

”You look wonderful darling!” He said happily as he turned to lead you into the house. You frowned as you realized that he hadn’t greeted San at all before entering the house. San’s arm came up around your shoulders and gave you a side hug before pressing a kiss to your temple to show that he didn’t want to make a scene about it. Choosing to follow San’s lead you stayed quiet and walked into the house with San following close behind you. 

As your father leads the two of you into the living room your eyes spot someone already sitting on the couch and you feel your heart thud heavily in your chest with unease. Felix sits on the couch with his elbows on his knees as he watches television, but when he hears your father enter he immediately stands up to greet you as if he had known you’d be coming. The feeling of unease and dread consumes you causing you to feel your breath stutter in your lungs. When San enters the room behind you and notices Felix he steps close to your back until he’s touching it giving you all the comfort and reassurance he can’t just with his presence. You notice Felix’s eyes darken when he spots San standing tall behind you and you internally scowl at his reaction, did he actually think that you would come to your father’s holiday visit without your boyfriend? How did that make sense at all?

”Dad you didn’t tell me that you would have other company for the holiday.” You say warily as you stare at Felix who glares at San. Turning to your father you completely ignore Felix to watch your father smile widely at you with a hopeful look on his face.

”I couldn’t abandon him during the holiday. He has no one to celebrate with!” Your father implores you and you frown softly  at his words as you remember seeing Felix with the woman he cheated on you with at the farmer’s market last weekend acting like a loved up couple. You had gone there with San since that was your normal routine on the weekends and the two of you had spotted Felix and his girlfriend there.

As you open your mouth to refute your father’s claims San’s hand comes to rest gently on your shoulder causing you to turn your head to look at him. He shakes his head and you furrow your brows slightly before closing your mouth. San obviously had a reason for not telling your father about Felix’s girlfriend and while you don’t agree with staying quiet you follow San’s lead again. 

“Where will we be sleeping?” You suddenly ask your father and he tilts his head to the side at your question and you gesture a hand to you and San causing your father to flush with embarrassment.

”You can’t sleep in the same room.” He blurts out and your face twists into a scowl at his words.

”What are you talking about? We’ve been dating for almost a year now.” You say confused as you watch your father begin to splutter at your admission of dating San since after your divorce was finalized.

”It’s okay, it’s your home. We won’t sleep in the same room.” San says graciously and you frown darkly at his words as you turn to him quietly. “I won’t disrespect your father in his own home.” He says softly to you and you feel at a loss as you feel your control on the situation slipping and San’s reassurance quickly disappearing.

”Good, darling will sleep in her old bedroom while San you’ll sleep in the spare room down the hall.” Your father says happily as he claps his hands and you watch him with a shrewd look on your face noting the distance that was just placed between you and San.

”And where’s Felix sleeping?” You asked your father with a wary look on your face.

”Right next to you in the attached bedroom.” Your father answered and you instantly stiffened at his words. San quickly slipped an arm around your waist and pulled you back against his chest trying to reassure you and calm you down.

”Dad, don’t you think that’s more inappropriate than me sleeping in the same bedroom as San?” You asked bewildered as you stared at your father incredulously. Your father frowned darkly at you and San tightened his arm around your waist knowing that if you pushed your father too much he could possibly ask San to leave and he didn’t want to leave you completely alone in the home with your father and ex-husband.

”No, not at all.” Your father snipped at you and you stared at him bewildered as you tried to understand what he was trying to do.

”It's okay, sweetheart. We’ll make it work.” San said softly to you and you frowned as you turned your head to him surprised. He looked down at you with a softened look on his face trying to get you to understand his concern. “C’mon let’s go put our bags down in the bedrooms and take a moment to relax.”

”Yes, go on upstairs darling. You should relax before we all have dinner together.” Your father said happily as he grinned at you. Frowning still, you nodded your head at San before leading him upstairs to the bedrooms, not even bothering to spare a look at Felix who had been watching both you and San avidly throughout the whole exchange.

Once you made it upstairs to your bedroom San set your suitcase down on the bed while you walked over to the attached bathroom and locked the door that led into your bedroom from the bathroom. San sighed softly as he ran a hand over his face tiredly and exasperatedly before sitting on the edge of the bed. You walked over to him and stood between his parted legs and he looked up at you quietly.

”I don’t want you to think that I’m siding with your dad. I’m not. I don’t know what he’s thinking but I don’t want to push him too hard and have him ask me to leave. I’m not going to leave you alone in this house with the two of them. Don’t worry, we’ll get through this together.” He promised you softly and you frowned at his words finally understanding why he had agreed to what your father wanted.

”Alright, let’s go get you settled and then we can take a nap in your room. Just because I can’t stay with you in a room tonight doesn’t mean I’m going to stay in here for Felix to come and find me.” You said derisively and San nodded his head with a soft smile before eagerly getting up off the bed and following you to the spare bedroom.

*-*-*-*

Dinner that night is awkward when you and San walk into the dinning room. The table is set with four plates and you instantly notice that there’s a place set right next to Felix while another place is set across the table from him. You frown softly at the blatant intention to get you close to Felix before San’s hand grazes your back and you watch as he moves around you and takes the seat next to Felix. Your father frowns darkly at that and Felix shifts in his seat before smiling brightly up at you while you take your seat across from both him and San.

”So darling tell me how has work been? I feel like I haven’t talked to you in forever.” Your father began to ask as dinner was served to everyone.

”Work is good it’s been busy.” You tell him vaguely and he nods his head quickly at your words before opening his mouth once more.

”Did you know that Felix finally launched his business last month? He’s been doing very well on his own after the whole incident.” Your father began to ramble and your eyes narrowed slightly at his mention of your divorce.

”You mean the incident where Felix cheated on me with his friend?” You asked bitterly, feeling anger rise up inside of you at how your father tried to brush over something traumatic that happened to you. You watched in disbelief as your father waved his hand in the air dismissively and you felt your eye twitch at his gesture.

”Yes well with the holiday season coming up don’t you think it’s time for you to forgive and let go of the past?” Your father asked hopefully as he cut into his steak before popping a piece into his mouth. Your head whipped to the side to stare at your father with a look of concern on your face.

”What?” You asked in shock as you stared at him.

”The two of you should catch up for old time’s sake and see if you can rekindle a friendship.” Your father said as he continued to cut into his steak and you felt as if you were insane while sitting there listening to him try to suggest that you should befriend your cheating ex-husband once more. 

A feeling of helplessness overcame you and you felt as if you were transported back to the time when you tried to tell your father about your mother’s affair that she had been having all those years ago. You sat there staring down at your plate feeling like the helpless teenager trying to make your father understand that his wife didn’t respect him or their relationship as he turned a deaf ear to you. Feeling something almost click into place within you you sighed loudly effectively silencing the dining room before lifting your head and turning towards your father.

”Have you hit your head sometime within the last week?” You asked darkly and your father scowled at you in return as his eyes narrowed.

”Excuse me?” He asked in quiet harsh tone and you shook your head at him.

”You must have if you think I would ever entertain getting close to my cheating ex-husband again.” You said in an uncompromising tone and your father frowned softly at you as Felix stared at you with wide worried eyes and San watched you in silent awe. “I am not you Dad. And I will not let you disrespect me, my relationship with San or my intelligence.” You said coldly and your father began to open and close his mouth trying to find the words he wanted to say.

”Darling, please calm down.” Felix said softly in that sweet tone that he always used on you to reign you back in while you two had been together. You slowly turned your head to stare at him indifferently and he flinched back in his seat.

”I am calm and I can clearly see that coming here was a mistake.” You said confidently as you glared at Felix. “I will not be forced or coerced into spending time with my ex-husband who didn’t even have the decency to tell me that he no longer wanted to be in a committed relationship with me.” You spat out coldly while still staring at Felix with hard cold eyes.

”That’s enough!” Shouts your father and you lazily turn your head to stare at him. “I will not have you insult my guest! If you choose not to get back together with Felix than you leave me no choice but to disown you!” Shouts your father and then smirks comically at you as he crosses his arms over his chest while leaning back in his chair. 

Your eyes dart over to San and he watches you with wide eyes, you watch as his eyes stay locked on you worriedly and you feel the love and concern he has for you from across the table and feel yourself soak it in. It fills your body with warmth and confidence as you boldly nod your head before setting your cloth napkin down on the table next to your plate and standing from your chair.

”If that’s what you think is best, then do it.” You say coldly before you tilt your head to the door gesturing for San to leave with you. He stands eloquently and meets you at the doorway leading out to the hallway.

”Darling!” Felix calls out surprised and you look over at him with a slight sneer on your face.

”Go back to your girlfriend Felix. She must miss you tonight.” You say coldly and he flinches back once more in his chair.

”They haven’t been together since the divorce!” Your father snaps angrily and you look over at him to see him glaring hatefully at you and all you feel is pity for the misguided man as you scoff softly at him.

”They were out on a date at the farmer’s market last weekend Dad. I’m sure she’s been warming his bed since they started cheating together.” You said with a shrug of your shoulder. Felix opens his mouth before snapping it closed and your father turns to him quickly with an angry look on his face. You take that moment to wrap your arm around San’s and lead him back up to your rooms to collect your things and leave. “Do you think your family would be too mad at us for showing up early to the resort?” You ask softly and San grins widely at you before shaking his head happily.

”They were more upset that we wouldn’t be there for another two days sweetheart.” He says softly while wrapping an arm around your shoulders. “I’m so proud of you.” He gushes before the two of you quickly leave the house with your suitcases in hand.

*-*-*-*

The next week is absolutely perfect for you as you’re surrounded by people who love and cherish you just as much as you love and cherish them. And as you cuddle up to a giggly San while uploading the picture of your hands entwined showcasing your brand new sparkling engagement ring you find the moment slightly bittersweet but absolutely perfect for the two of you just like how your relationship has been since the beginning.

SKZ Taglist: @intartaruginha, @kayleefriedchicken, @babigriin, @simpforleeknaur, @inlovewithstraykids

[acute-crashout-jeyuso]

Sacrifices ( Book 2 of 3 BTR Series) a Jhea Fanfic.

Chapter 30: California Mountain Snake..

Flashback: March 23rd, 2019

Rhea stood outside the back of Vices, the cool night air mingling with the thick smoke of her cigarette. The weight of her conversation with Morris hung heavy on her shoulders. It wasn't the deal that bothered her, not really. She had navigated shady deals before, but this one felt different. Too much risk, too many moving parts.

She needed a moment to think.

She took a long drag, letting the smoke fill her lungs before exhaling slowly. What had she gotten herself into? She wasn't sure if she was ready to go all in with Morris-hell, she wasn't even sure she trusted him. But something in the way he looked at her, the way he'd spoken, made her wonder if stability was worth the cost.

Before she could dwell further on her thoughts, she heard the words that snapped her back to reality.

"Fucking bitch."

Rhea didn't have time to react before she felt a fist collide with her jaw. She staggered back, nearly dropping the cigarette from her hand. The stinging impact of the punch was enough to snap her out of the haze. Her eyes narrowed as she regained her footing, recognizing the person who had just assaulted her. Valerie.

"Valerie, what the hell?" Rhea growled, wiping the blood from her lip.

Without hesitation, Valerie lunged at her again, fury and jealousy radiating from her every move.

Rhea didn't have to think—her body moved instinctively, drawing from grueling training in hapkido from Charles.

As Valerie swung another wild punch, Rhea sidestepped it effortlessly, using her opponent's momentum to her advantage. A sharp palm strike caught Valerie's chest, sending her stumbling back. The anger in Valerie's eyes only seemed to fuel Rhea's precision.

Rhea's foot snapped out in a swift roundhouse kick, connecting squarely with Valerie's side, knocking the wind out of her. Valerie staggered, but before she could recover, Rhea closed the distance between them, flipping her opponent to the ground with a perfect hip toss.

Valerie gasped as she hit the pavement, trying to scramble to her feet, but Rhea was already there.

In a fluid motion, Rhea pinned Valerie's neck to the ground with her foot, applying just enough pressure to make her struggle for breath.

"You think you can take me down?" Rhea hissed, her eyes cold as she looked down at the woman beneath her. "You don't know who you're dealing with."

The words were a warning, but Rhea wasn't done yet.

“Wanna know a fact about the Black Mamba?” Rhea asked, not caring if Valerie answered or not, Rhea pushed her foot deeper into Valerie’s neck as Valerie gasped for air, "The black mamba's venom is highly toxic and the venom is fatal unless antivenom is administered," Rhea continued, her voice steady and calm, a walk in the park compared to the chaos of the moment.

"Whereas the California mountain snake is completely harmless."

She held Valerie's gaze, her foot still pressing down with just enough force to keep her pinned but not causing any permanent damage. "You're the California mountain snake, Valerie. You're harmless. All bark, no bite."

Valerie's eyes blazed with fury as she tried to breath, but she couldn't break free. Rhea had proven herself in that instant swift, decisive, and dangerous. The venom in her words and actions was enough to send a message.

Rhea stepped back, releasing Valerie from her hold and allowing her to roll over, gasping for air.

"Get up, and get out of my sight. I don't have time for your petty games."

Valerie's face was a mixture of pain and rage, but she didn't make a move to attack again. She knew she was beaten, for now. Slowly, she pushed herself off the ground, wiping the dirt from her face and glaring at Rhea with a mix of hatred and grudging respect.

Rhea didn't have time for this. She had bigger things to worry about than Valerie and her jealousy. The world she was stepping into with Morris was more dangerous than anything Valerie could throw at her. She had to stay focused, and she couldn't afford to lose control.

As she walked away, she heard Valerie's voice behind her, weak but venomous: "This isn't over, Black Mamba."

Rhea didn't turn around. She didn't need to.

—

The atmosphere in the car was suffocating, a quiet storm brewing between Rhea and Demetri. The tension had been building all night, and now, it was about to explode. As the car came to a stop in front of their apartment, neither of them made a move to get out. Instead, they sat there in the silence, the weight of unspoken words filling the space between them.

Demetri finally broke the silence, his voice sharp and filled with a dangerous edge. “Do you still love me?”

Rhea turned to face him, her face calm but her eyes betraying a flicker of unease. “Of course,” she said simply, her tone even.

But it wasn’t enough for him.

Without warning, Demetri’s hand shot out, slamming her head against the car’s window. The sound of the impact echoed through the car, the glass cracking under the force. Rhea let out a sharp gasp, her vision blurring for a moment as pain radiated from the side of her head.

Demetri leaned in closer, his face twisted with rage. “Why do you keep testing me?” he hissed, his voice low and venomous as he grabbed her arm with a tight grip.

Rhea, swallowing the pain and forcing herself to stay composed, met his gaze with steely defiance. “I have to make sure Morris is happy,” she said through gritted teeth, her voice steady despite the situation. “Because if he’s not, your little fentanyl runs won’t stay on the hush. Remember that? The runs you promised to stop doing for him after we both got arrested.”

Her words hung in the air like a challenge, the tension in the car thick enough to cut with a knife. Demetri’s grip on her arm tightened as he processed what she said, his nostrils flaring with barely-contained fury.

“You think you’re so smart,” he spat, his tone dripping with mockery. “Always playing the game, always making moves like you’re ten steps ahead.”

Rhea didn’t flinch, her gaze locked on his. “I’m not playing, Demetri. I’m surviving. And if you want to keep your operation intact, you’ll back off and let me handle things the way I need to.”

For a moment, Demetri just stared at her, his jaw clenched, his eyes burning with anger. Then, without another word, he released her arm and sat back in his seat, his breathing heavy. The silence between them was deafening, but Rhea didn’t dare move or say anything else.

Finally, after what felt like an eternity, Demetri reached for the door handle and got out of the car, slamming the door shut behind him. Rhea took a shaky breath, her head still throbbing from where it had hit the glass. She glanced at the cracked window and then at her reflection, the faint outline of her face distorted by the fracture.

She couldn’t afford to let this shake her. Not now. Morris had made it clear what he expected from her, and she couldn’t afford to fail. Demetri’s anger was just one more obstacle she had to navigate. But deep down, she knew that this game they were all playing was becoming more dangerous by the day. One wrong move, and everything could come crashing down.

Rhea gathered herself, forcing the pain and fear into the back of her mind, and stepped out of the car. The night wasn’t over yet, and she had to be ready for whatever came next.

Rhea opened the apartment door, and the tension in the air hit her immediately. Demetri sat on the couch, leaning back casually, but the malice in his expression was unmistakable. Her eyes dropped to what was next to him—her money. A sick feeling churned in her stomach as she saw him flick open a lighter, holding it dangerously close to a stack of hundred-dollar bills.

“You don’t think I know what you do with your money?” he said, his voice dripping with mockery.

Rhea felt her blood boil, her fists clenching at her sides. “Whatever you’re doing,” she said through gritted teeth, “don’t fucking do it.”

Demetri’s lips curled into a cruel smirk. “You think I don’t know, huh? Mrs. Bennett has aggressive breast cancer, and your dear old daddy, Mr. Bennett, can’t afford the treatments. That’s why you’ve been so busy playing Morris’ lapdog, isn’t it?”

Rhea froze, her heart pounding in her chest. The walls she had carefully built around her secrets were crumbling, and Demetri’s words struck like a dagger. How the hell did he know? She had done everything in her power to keep her family’s struggles hidden from him, to keep her two worlds separate.

“Shut up,” she spat, her voice cold and sharp. She crossed the room, her anger boiling over as she raised her hand to strike him.

But Demetri was faster. With ruthless precision, he kicked her mid-motion, sending her sprawling backward. Rhea hit the floor hard, the impact knocking the wind out of her. She struggled to get her bearings, but Demetri was already towering over her, his presence suffocating.

“I brought you into this world,” he sneered, his voice filled with venom. “And I can take you out, Black Mamba.”

He threw the stack of money at her face, the bills scattering around her like fallen leaves. Rhea stared up at him, her body aching and her pride bruised, but her eyes still burned with defiance.

Demetri stood there for a moment, as if daring her to make a move. When she didn’t, he scoffed and grabbed his jacket. “You should’ve known better than to cross me,” he said coldly before walking to the door.

He paused in the doorway, looking back at her one last time. “You think you’re untouchable, but you’re not. Don’t forget that.”

The door slammed shut behind him, leaving Rhea alone in the wreckage of their confrontation. She sat on the floor, the scattered money around her a bitter reminder of everything she was fighting for—and everything she stood to lose. Her body throbbed from the impact, but she refused to let herself cry. Not here, not now.

She slowly pushed herself to her feet, her hands trembling as she gathered the money from the floor. Every dollar, every ounce of effort she’d poured into keeping her family safe, felt like it was slipping through her fingers. But she wasn’t going to let Demetri—or anyone—take it from her.

As she stood there, battered but not broken, she made herself a promise: once her mother was better, she would find a way out of this.

—

March 30, 2019.

Morris stood with a satisfied grin as his shipments were unloaded into the warehouse. The efficiency and precision of the operation pleased him, and he turned to Rhea, his Black Mamba, with pride. He leaned in, planting a firm kiss on her lips, and said in Polish, “You have done extremely well.”

Rhea closed her eyes, the weight of the past week pressing down on her like a stone. She nodded, but the usual confidence and fire in her demeanor were absent. Morris, ever the observer, caught the subtle shift in her body language.

“What is wrong, my beautiful Mamba?” he asked in English, his tone softer than usual, though still edged with authority.

Rhea hesitated, her fingers fidgeting with the hem of her leather jacket. “I don’t want to talk about it,” she muttered, her voice barely audible.

Morris frowned, his sharp eyes scanning her face for answers she wasn’t offering. “Come to the car,” he said firmly, taking her hand and leading her away from the warehouse.

Rhea followed him silently, the tension between them palpable. Once inside the sleek black car, Morris closed the door behind her and leaned back in his seat, studying her. The quiet hum of the engine filled the space, but the air was thick with unspoken words.

“Rhea,” Morris began, his voice low but commanding, “you know better than to hide things from me. Whatever it is, you will tell me.”

Rhea looked out the window, avoiding his gaze. She could feel his eyes boring into her, demanding the truth. Finally, she sighed and turned to him, her voice trembling as she said, “It’s Demetri.”

Morris raised an eyebrow, his expression darkening. “What about him?”

“He… he found out about the money I’ve been sending to my parents,” she admitted, her voice barely above a whisper. “And he… he hurt me.”

Morris’s jaw tightened, his hand clenching into a fist on the armrest. “He hurt you?” he repeated, his voice dangerously calm.

Rhea nodded, her fingers brushing over the faint bruise on her temple. “It’s fine,” she said quickly, trying to downplay it. “I handled it.”

Morris let out a low, humorless chuckle. “No, my Mamba, it is not fine. That scum laid hands on you? He thinks he can disrespect me like that?”

“Morris, please,” Rhea said, her voice urgent. “Just leave it alone. I can handle him. I don’t want things to escalate.”

Morris turned to her, his dark eyes gleaming with an icy determination. “You’re mine, Rhea. And no one—no one—harms what is mine without consequences.”

Rhea felt a chill run down her spine. She knew what Morris was capable of, and while a part of her wanted Demetri to pay for what he’d done, another part feared what Morris’s version of justice would look like.

“Morris,” she began, her voice steady but pleading, “just promise me you won’t do anything reckless.”

He reached out, cupping her face gently but firmly. “You’re strong, Rhea. I’ve always admired that about you. But there are battles you shouldn’t have to fight alone. Let me take care of this.”

Rhea closed her eyes, leaning into his touch. She knew there was no arguing with him when he made up his mind. “Just… don’t kill him,” she said softly.

Morris smirked, a dangerous glint in his eyes. “I’ll make no promises, my Mamba. But for you, I’ll try to be… merciful.”

Morris leaned in closer, his hand still gently cradling Rhea's face. He kissed her softly, his lips lingering on hers as if claiming her in a way only he could. Rhea hesitated, her mind spinning, but she didn't pull away.

When the kiss ended, she looked at him, her voice trembling but curious. "Why do you kiss me, Morris?"

Morris smiled, his expression a mixture of possession and affection. "Because, my Mamba, I take pride in the things I own. I cherish them. I cherish you."

Before Rhea could respond, Morris leaned in again, his lips capturing hers with more intensity.

This time, Rhea gave in, wrapping her arms around his neck as the kiss deepened. Morris pulled the twenty two year old drug pusher on to his lap as his hands roamed her body. The weight of her troubles seemed to dissolve, if only for a fleeting moment, as the car began to move. She had unleashed something she wasn’t sure she could control, and the line between protection and destruction was growing thinner by the second.

The two continued to make out as the city lights blurred outside the window, the sleek black car carrying them off into the night.

—

After Morris dropped Rhea off at her and Demetri’s apartment, he made his way back to Vices. The city’s underworld heart beat loudly here, and it wasn’t just the music echoing that kept the place alive. Morris stepped into his office through the back entryway, the familiar scent of cigar smoke lingering in the air. But he froze when he saw her.

Valerie, aka California Mountain Snake, leaned casually against the desk, her eyes narrowed as she assessed him. “Where have you been?” she asked, her voice dripping with an edge of suspicion.

Morris stood still for a moment, his jaw tightening. “Now, Val’, you don’t get to ask questions,” he said coolly, his tone laced with an authority that made it clear this conversation was about to turn.

Valerie stepped forward, a smirk playing on her lips. “Are you with that bitch?” she sneered, eyes flicking to the direction of Rhea, her name a venomous whisper on Valerie’s tongue.

Without a word, Morris moved so fast that Valerie barely saw it coming. His hand shot out, grabbing her by the throat, lifting her off the ground with a strength that belied his calm demeanor. He slammed her against the wall, his eyes burning with fury.

“You don’t talk about Mamba like that,” Morris growled, his grip tightening. “Understand?”

Valerie’s eyes flared with both anger and fear as she clawed at his hand, struggling to break free. Her breaths came in shallow gasps, but she managed to force out through clenched teeth, “You’re a damn fool if you think I’m gonna let her control you.”

Morris didn’t flinch. “No one controls me, Val’,” he spat. “But she’s my creation, and you’ll never disrespect my creation again.”

For a moment, the only sound in the room was Valerie’s labored breathing, her fear now apparent. Then, with one last squeeze, Morris released her, letting her drop to the floor. Valerie coughed, wiping at her throat as she stood up slowly.

“Don’t forget who made you,” he added, his voice low and dangerous. “I don’t need to remind you what happens when loyalty’s questioned.”

Valerie glared up at him, her pride still unbroken, but she knew better than to challenge him further. “You’re losing your touch, Morris,” she muttered under her breath, but she kept her distance now.

Morris didn’t respond. He simply turned and walked to his desk, his back to her. “Get out of my office.”

—

March 31st, 2019.

“Viper… before you go… sit down,” Morris’s voice cut through the thick air, sharp and commanding.

Demetri’s eyes flicked toward Brent, Thomas, and Adam, signaling them to leave the room. Without protest, the men filed out, knowing better than to question their boss’s orders.

Demetri sat down in front of Morris, his posture tense, as he watched Morris slowly light his cigar. The flicker of the flame illuminated Morris’s face, casting long, deep shadows that made his expression even more menacing. The scent of tobacco filled the air as Morris exhaled a thick plume of smoke, his gaze never leaving Demetri.

“Mamba tells me you’ve hit her,” Morris said, his tone unhurried but cold, like a slow-burning fuse waiting to explode.

Demetri shifted slightly in his seat, the tension in the room palpable. His lips curled into a small, almost indifferent smile as he replied, “I’ve been known to correct her from time to time. And so what?” His voice carried a sense of arrogance, as though he didn’t fear the consequences.

Morris’s eyes narrowed, his lips curling into a barely noticeable sneer. “So what? You’ve got a temper, Viper, and she’s mine. You don’t lay a finger on what belongs to me.”

Demetri scoffed, leaning back in his seat, looking at Morris like he was nothing more than a nuisance. “Why do you care, Morris? You have Valerie at your hand and lap every night. Why the hell do you want my girl?”

The question lingered in the room, sharp and biting. Morris’s eyes flicked with something dangerous, and for a brief moment, it seemed like the weight of Demetri’s words hit him. But then, without missing a beat, Morris leaned forward slightly, his voice low and ominous.

“She’s my creation,” Morris said, his words deliberate and heavy. “I’ll be damned if I let you kill my creation because you can’t stand the fact that she’s better than every single snake I own.”

Demetri’s jaw tightened, but his eyes never wavered. He wasn’t going to back down. “She’s my girl, Morris. You don’t control her like you think you do.”

Morris inhaled deeply from his cigar, his expression unreadable, before exhaling with a slow, calculated breath. “I created the Black Mamba,” he said quietly, almost to himself, but loud enough for Demetri to hear. “And I’ll make sure she stays mine, no matter who tries to claim her.”

Demetri’s fists clenched, but he didn’t respond immediately. The silence between them was suffocating, thick with the weight of the threat that hung in the air.

Finally, Morris broke the silence, his voice colder than ever. “You think you can keep her in line? You think you can control her? You’re mistaken.” His eyes burned with an intensity that made Demetri feel small. “She is untouchable..”

The words were a promise, and Demetri could feel the chill of them sink deep into his bones. The room felt colder, heavier, like the walls were closing in.

“You.. however you are not untouchable, Viper,” Morris added, leaning back and taking another drag from his cigar. “And don’t think for a second that I’ll let you ruin my creation because of your own insecurities.”

Demetri stood up, his hand brushing against the edge of the desk, the tension between them crackling in the air like electricity. “We’re done here,” he muttered, turning to leave.

Before he reached the door, Morris called out. “I brought you into this world, I can take you out of it.”

Demetri froze at the door, his back to Morris, but he didn’t turn around. He didn’t need to.

The door swung open, and Demetri stepped out, his mind racing as the weight of Morris’s words settled in. He didn’t fear Morris, but he knew better than to ignore a man like him.

As Demetri left, Morris sat back in his chair, the smoke curling from his cigar like tendrils of a dark promise. His eyes glinted with cold satisfaction. There was no doubt in his mind that the Black Mamba would remain his—one way or another.

—

As Demetri stepped out of the office, the weight of the conversation with Morris hung heavily on his shoulders. His thoughts churned as he made his way through the club, the lights flashing and the music thumping around him. He felt a fleeting gaze from across the room, and when he looked up, he saw Valerie.

Their eyes locked for a moment—silent, but full of understanding. Valerie’s lips curled into a smile, one that seemed to carry an unspoken invitation. Demetri’s expression remained unreadable, but he quickly broke the gaze, his mind still heavy with the conversation he’d just had. He turned and walked toward the exit, his thoughts pulling him in different directions.

As he stepped outside, the cool night air hit him, but it did little to clear his head. He climbed into his car and started the engine, the rumble of the engine barely cutting through the fog in his mind. He shifted the car into drive and began to pull away from the club.

But just as he was about to merge into the street, a knock on his window startled him. Demetri glanced over, and there she was again—Valerie, standing just outside, her hand waving in the air.

With a reluctant sigh, Demetri rolled down the window. “What’s up?” he asked, his voice still laced with the remnants of tension.

Valerie leaned against the car, a mischievous glint in her eyes. “Mind if you give me a ride?” she asked, her tone casual, though there was something more in the way she said it.

Demetri hesitated for a second, but his instincts were already pulling him in a familiar direction. “Sure,” he replied, unlocking the door.

Valerie slid into the passenger seat, her perfume lingering in the air as she settled beside him. The drive to her apartment was silent, the air between them charged with unspoken words. The streets blurred by, but all Demetri could think about was the tension that had built up between them ever since that first glance.

When they reached her apartment, the car came to a halt. The engine hummed softly, and for a brief moment, neither of them moved. The silence hung between them, thick and heavy.

Finally, Valerie turned to Demetri, her expression softening. She reached for him, pulling him into a kiss that was intense, passionate, and without words. It was as if the kiss spoke for everything that had been building between them—everything they hadn’t said, everything they hadn’t acknowledged.

Their lips met with a hunger, a desire that neither had fully admitted to before. The kiss was fiery, reckless, and full of the kind of passion that could only come from a hidden affair—one that neither of them could resist.

When they pulled apart, breathless, Demetri looked at Valerie, his heart racing. Without a word, she slipped out of the car and walked toward her apartment, her hips swaying with a sense of seduction.

Demetri sat there for a moment, his thoughts a whirlwind, he then reached over in his glovebox and grabbed a condom and exited his car. That kiss and night marked the beginning of something he knew would be dangerous, something he couldn’t quite turn away from.

And so began their two-year affair—one full of secrets, lies, and the kind of forbidden passion that neither of them could resist.

—

April 2nd, 2019.

Rhea stretched her arms above her head, yawning as she shook off the exhaustion from another long night. The fluorescent lights of the Performance Center cast a harsh glow on the ring where she had been training with Liv and Tegan. Liv, always the one to notice, raised an eyebrow.

“Long night?” she asked, leaning against the ropes.

Rhea nodded, letting out another tired yawn. “Yeah, could have used some melatonin to sleep,” she replied with a small chuckle. She moved to the side of the ring, rubbing her eyes.

Before Liv could respond, a familiar voice interrupted. “Rhea, can I talk to you?”

Rhea turned, recognizing Bayley walking toward her.

“Sure,” Rhea said, offering a polite nod as she slid out of the ring. Liv and Tegan exchanged a curious glance but didn’t press further as they continued their own conversation.

Bayley followed Rhea down the hallway into the locker room, where the two were alone. The air was thick with the silence of the quiet space, a contrast to the energy of the training floor outside.

“I need somas,” Bayley said bluntly, looking at Rhea with a mixture of seriousness and desperation in her eyes.

Rhea sighed. “How many?”

“Twenty,” Bayley replied without hesitation.

Rhea rolled her eyes but didn’t comment on it. Instead, she reached into her gym bag and began pulling out the pills. She counted them carefully as she spoke. “Two hundred.”

Bayley dug into her pocket and pulled out two crisp $100 bills, handing them over to Rhea without a second thought. The exchange felt transactional, cold even. Rhea handed over the pills, the transaction complete.

Bayley paused, looking at Rhea for a moment longer than necessary, almost as if she was trying to read her.

“Thanks,” Bayley said, her tone softer now, though still carrying a hint of something more—something Rhea couldn’t quite place. She took the pills and turned to leave, but not before pausing at the door. “You know, sometimes people get too caught up in their own shit. But you seem to always have a way of handling yours.”

Rhea’s eyes narrowed slightly, unsure whether it was meant as an insult or an odd compliment. Before she could respond, Bayley was gone, leaving the door to swing shut behind her.

Rhea stood there for a moment, pondering what had just transpired. She couldn’t shake the feeling that something more was at play—something deeper than just a simple transaction. Bayley’s words stuck with her, lingering in her mind.

But for now, Rhea shook it off, turning back to rejoin Liv and Tegan. She had more important things to focus on—like the grueling training that was waiting for her, and the chaos of her life outside of the ring.

—

Flashback April 13th, 2019.

Rhea rolled her eyes as the call came over the loudspeaker, signaling the next round of drug tests. She had been through this routine countless times, but it didn’t make it any less annoying. She grabbed the plastic cup from the nurse, walking with an air of impatience toward the bathroom stalls.

Inside the stall, she quickly relieved herself, filling the cup as needed before wiping it off and washing her hands. The sound of running water echoed in the small, sterile space as she prepared to hand over the sample. Once done, she opened the stall door, grabbed the cup, and made her way back toward the waiting area.

The doctor didn’t say much as he took the cup from her, inspecting it briefly before nodding. Rhea sat down, her eyes scanning the room of NXT Superstars and recruits who were all waiting for their turn.

Across the room, Shawn Michaels, the Heartbreak Kid himself, stood with his arms crossed, eyes sharp as he surveyed the room full of talent. His voice rang out with a level of authority that commanded attention.

“The sooner the person is caught,” he said, looking over the group, “the sooner these tests end.”

Rhea kept her expression neutral, but inside, a wry smirk tugged at her lips. She knew what Shawn was implying—he wasn’t exactly thrilled with the frequency of these tests either. Still, she couldn’t help but feel the weight of the truth in his words. The people who were guilty of using would eventually be exposed, and there was nothing they could do to prevent it.

Of course, Rhea didn’t get caught. She was far too careful for that, even though she was the one supplying drugs to both Tegan and Bayley. It was something she kept close to her chest, a hidden part of her life that not even the most perceptive eyes could pry into. While others might think the tests were a nuisance, Rhea simply saw them as an inconvenience—a small price to pay for her control over the others, especially Tegan and Bayley.

As the testing continued, Rhea’s mind drifted, thinking of all the ways she had managed to keep the truth hidden. No one suspected her—she had perfected the art of playing the game.

—

March 23, 2021.

Rhea stood in front of Morris, her gaze steady but filled with a certain edge. She had been feeling the pressure for some time now, and she knew this conversation couldn’t wait any longer. She needed to secure her position.

“I need your help,” Rhea said, her voice low but demanding.

Morris glanced up from his desk, eyes narrowing slightly as he took in her words. “Speak, Mamba.”

Rhea paused for a moment, collecting her thoughts before she continued, the weight of the situation evident in her expression. “I don’t feel safe anymore,” she said, her voice steady, but there was a flicker of concern behind her eyes. “These shipments… moving product from Arizona with Demetri… it’s getting too risky. People are starting to talk, and I need to make sure you’re still giving me the stability I was promised, it’s been almost two years and every year I feel like it’s getting worse.”

Morris didn’t respond immediately, his gaze hardening as he considered her words. He knew Rhea didn’t come to him unless it was serious. He could feel the unease in her voice, something he wasn’t used to seeing from her. But he wasn’t about to show vulnerability. After a moment, he exhaled, leaning back in his chair with an almost predatory look in his eyes.

“How about I make you a deal?” he said, his voice smooth but with an edge that matched hers. “I’ll protect you from whoever—whoever’s after you—and you just focus on moving my money and my toys.”

Rhea raised an eyebrow, intrigued but wary. “I thought I was already doing that,” she responded, crossing her arms as she leaned slightly against the edge of his desk.

Morris let out a quiet chuckle, a smirk tugging at the corner of his lips. “Different toys, different money,” he said cryptically, clearly not just talking about the regular shipments they’d been working with. There was something more to this, something more dangerous.

Rhea frowned but didn’t say anything, waiting for him to elaborate.

“You have an Australian passport, don’t you?” Morris asked, leaning forward slightly as he locked eyes with her. “I need you to take flights to Australia and then from there to Switzerland. There’s business to attend to. Sensitive business.”

Rhea’s heart skipped a beat at the mention of Switzerland—she knew that was where some of the bigger operations were run, the kind that involved laundering money and handling international transactions that were too clean for anyone to trace.

She studied Morris for a moment, his expression unreadable. The deal sounded like it would give her a bit of breathing room, but at what cost?

“Why me?” she asked, narrowing her eyes. “Why not send someone else? Someone who’s expendable?”

Morris looked at her, his smile disappearing into a cold stare. “Because you’re Mamba,” he said, his tone hardening. “And I don’t trust anyone else with this. You’ve proven yourself, and you’re in too deep now for anyone else to get involved. You’re the only one who can handle it.”

Rhea considered his words for a moment, her mind racing. The stakes were higher than ever. But she had come this far, and backing out now wasn’t an option. She had built her place in this world, and she wasn’t about to lose it.

“Fine,” she said finally, her voice steady. “I’ll do it. But I’m going to need a lot more protection than just your word, Morris.”

He stood up and walked around his desk, placing a hand on her shoulder in a gesture that was both intimate and possessive. “You’ll have it,” he said. “And when you come back, you’ll have more than just your stability.”

Rhea met his gaze, feeling the weight of his words sink in. She didn’t trust him completely—she never had—but in this game, she didn’t have the luxury of trust. She needed control, and this deal, dangerous as it was, might be the only way she could secure it.

As she turned to leave the room, Morris called out, his voice tinged with a promise. “I’ll be watching, Mamba. Don’t forget that.”

—

August 1st, 2018 - Orlando, Florida Airport

Rhea’s heart skipped a beat as she heard the voice of the airport security officer behind her. “Excuse me, ma’am, will you come with me?”

She glanced around, feeling the weight of the moment press on her. The terminal was crowded, but the eyes on her made it feel as though she was the only person in the room. Calmly, she turned to face the officer. “What is this for?”

The officer didn’t answer directly. Instead, he simply motioned for her to follow. Rhea knew better than to resist. There were too many eyes in the airport, and too many consequences if things went wrong.

They walked through the busy terminal, past the food courts and stores, until they arrived at a small, secluded room. It felt like a scene out of one of those old crime movies. The officers who followed her in were quiet, scanning her every move as they informed her they had reason to believe she was carrying drugs from her recent flight from Arizona.

Rhea kept her face neutral as the words hit her. She had been smart. She had switched bags with the other runner before leaving the airport in Arizona. The bag she carried now wasn’t the one that could incriminate her. She just needed to keep her cool.

They proceeded to dump her belongings onto the table. Rhea’s eyes locked onto her suitcase as the officers tore it open, rifling through her things. They weren’t looking for clothes—they were looking for something much worse. They opened the briefcase next, spilling out papers, checks, and a few personal items. But there was nothing that could get her caught. They found no drugs.

After several minutes of searching, the officers exchanged glances and then turned to Rhea. “You’re free to go,” one of them said curtly, clearly frustrated that they had come up empty-handed.

Rhea’s expression remained composed as she nodded and grabbed her things. As she walked out of the small room, the weight of the close call still felt like a tangible presence around her. But just as she was about to pass through the door, she caught a glimpse of something out of the corner of her eye. It was the other runner—the one who had been part of the plan. Their eyes locked for a brief moment, and Rhea felt a chill run through her.

The runner’s gaze was filled with suspicion. He knew. He knew she had switched the bags.

Without hesitation, Rhea acted on instinct. She quickly darted back to the bag she had just been cleared of and switched it once again, making sure she had the right one this time. She didn’t trust anyone in this game—not even those who worked alongside her.

Rhea slipped through the door, making her way toward the taxi stand. Her pulse was still racing, but she pushed the fear down. She couldn’t afford to make a scene now. She needed to get out of here before anyone started asking too many questions.

She jumped into the first available cab, gave the driver a quick address, and watched the city blur past her as the cab sped toward her apartment. Her mind raced with the close call she had just dodged. She knew it was only a matter of time before someone else figured out her trick, but for now, she had survived.

The taxi pulled up in front of her and Demetri’s apartment, and she quickly paid the driver. Rhea grabbed the bags and headed inside, relieved to be back in a place where she could catch her breath.

Demetri was already home, and she handed him the bags without saying a word. He raised an eyebrow but didn’t ask any questions. He knew what she had been up to. He always did.

“These go to Morris,” she said, her voice flat. Demetri didn’t reply, just nodded, taking the bags from her hands.

Rhea stood there for a moment, watching him leave. Her eyes drifted toward the window, but her thoughts were elsewhere.

She had been lucky today. But next time? Who knew how close she’d come to being caught.

Rhea turned away from the window and sat down on the couch, the weight of the close call pressing down on her chest. She had been in the game long enough to know how dangerous it was, but something inside her was starting to shift. Maybe it was the anxiety of nearly getting caught. Maybe it was the constant tension of living in this world.

But tonight, she knew one thing for sure: she was done. The close call at the airport, the fear that had surged through her veins—it was all too much.

She needed to speak to Morris.

—

October 26th, 2018

Rhea sat in the passenger seat of Demetri’s car, staring out the window, her nerves frayed. The air felt thick with tension as they waited. The man they were about to deal with had just pulled up, his old, weathered car screeching to a halt on the side of the road. Rhea couldn’t shake the unease that crawled up her spine. Something about him just didn’t sit right.

“I don’t like this,” Rhea muttered, her voice low but heavy with concern.

Demetri, leaning back in his seat, glanced over at her with a reassuring smile, though his eyes were watchful. “Babe… it’s not like we haven’t done these a million times before.”

Rhea shook her head, still feeling that nagging discomfort. She glanced back at the man approaching them, his steps slow but deliberate. “He looks funky,” she said, her voice tinged with suspicion.

Demetri let out a soft chuckle, trying to ease her nerves. “Trust me, Mamba, he’s just another buyer…… How much?”

The man came to a stop next to the car, and his eyes met Demetri’s. “50,” he said, his voice calm but cold. “I need 50 of them.”

Demetri gave a quick nod, signaling Rhea to grab the bag. “Got it,” she replied, her fingers already moving to the backseat, reaching into the duffel bag that sat on the floor between them. She pulled out the bag filled with the pills and she handed it to Demetri.

He took the bag, counting out fifty fentanyl pills with expert precision. The man’s gaze didn’t waver as Demetri passed him the pills. But as soon as the exchange was made, everything went sideways.

Without warning, the man pulled out a badge from inside his jacket, flashing it in front of them with a swift motion. He followed it up by pulling a gun from the waistband of his pants, leveling it at Demetri. “Orlando Gang Enforcement,” he declared, his voice firm and commanding. “You’re under arrest.”

Rhea’s heart stopped in her chest. She hadn’t seen this coming. Everything had happened so fast, so quietly, but now there was no escaping it. The sense of betrayal hit her like a punch to the gut. She looked at Demetri, her eyes wide with disbelief. “What the hell is this?”

Demetri’s face hardened, a mix of shock and anger flashing in his eyes, but he didn’t make any sudden moves. He knew the game was up. The weight of the situation was sinking in, but Rhea’s panic was still rising. Her mind raced with thoughts of how they had just been set up, how it was all too perfect—too calculated.

“Hands where I can see them,” the officer ordered, his voice unyielding as he kept the gun trained on Demetri. “You’re both under arrest for trafficking, distribution and conspiracy to distrubute. You have the right to remain silent. Anything you say can and will be used against you in a court of law.”

Rhea’s hands trembled, but she kept them still, her breath coming in shallow bursts. She wanted to argue, to fight back, but she knew better. There was no escaping now.

Demetri didn’t say a word. His jaw clenched as the officer cuffed him, his eyes flashing toward Rhea, trying to communicate some kind of reassurance. But Rhea couldn’t read it. She didn’t know if he was angry, scared, or just resigned to their fate.

The officer then turned his attention to her, jerking her out of her seat by the arm. “Move,” he snapped, as he shoved her toward the back of the car, the lights from the surrounding vehicles flashing in her eyes.

Everything happened in a blur of flashing lights, harsh voices, and the weight of the cuffs around her wrists. The last thing Rhea remembered as they both were shoved into separate cars was Demetri’s eyes, angry and defeated. She felt her heart pound in her chest, her mind spinning. The calm life they’d tried to carve out in the midst of chaos was crumbling, and Rhea knew, deep down, that this wasn’t just another close call.

This time, they were caught.

—

October 27th, 2018

The drive back to their apartment was long and silent. The lawyer, who had arranged for their release, kept his eyes on the road, glancing in the rearview mirror occasionally. Demetri sat in the back, his face unreadable, but Rhea could feel the tension radiating off of him. She sat stiffly beside him, her body sore from the night in jail, her mind still reeling from the encounter with the Gang Enforcement. The charges they faced were serious, and despite the lawyer’s confidence in getting them off, Rhea couldn’t shake the feeling of dread that had settled in her stomach.

As they pulled up to their apartment, the lawyer turned around, offering a brief nod. “You’re free for now, but don’t get comfortable. The DA will want to see you both in court. Be ready,” he warned before pulling away, leaving them standing in the dim light of the parking lot.

Rhea and Demetri didn’t exchange a word as they made their way into the building. The weight of the situation hung heavily between them, and as they entered the apartment, the door barely shutting behind them, the tension finally broke.

“That was your fault,” Demetri said, his voice cold, almost flat.

Rhea’s eyes widened. “What the hell are you talking about?” she snapped, her body stiffening as she turned to face him.

Demetri stepped toward her with a dangerous calm. “If you hadn’t been so careless, we wouldn’t be in this mess right now. You couldn’t keep your cool, could you? You just had to get caught, didn’t you?” His words stung with venom, each one carrying a deeper resentment than Rhea had ever seen in him before.

Before she could react, Demetri grabbed a baseball bat that had been leaning against the wall. The room seemed to slow down, and Rhea’s breath caught in her throat as she realized what was about to happen.

In one swift movement, Demetri swung the bat toward Rhea. It hit her with a sickening thud against her neck and shoulder, the impact jolting through her body. The pain was immediate, searing, and Rhea gasped, her knees buckling as she struggled to stay upright.

“You’re nothing but a worthless wrestler,” Demetri spat, his words cutting deeper than the physical blow. “Morris’ prized Mamba, trying to be a big and bad drug dealer. You couldn’t even handle that.”

Rhea staggered backward, her vision blurring slightly from the pain, but she didn’t fall. She clenched her teeth, fighting to keep her composure, despite the hurt that ran through her body.

She had expected a lot of things from Demetri—anger, frustration—but this? This was a denial in its purest form.

“Demetri,” she said, her voice strained and shaky, but her eyes were cold. “You better believe I didn’t get caught on purpose. You want to blame me for all of this, fine. But you know damn well that we were both in this together.”

Demetri’s eyes narrowed, his grip tightening on the bat as he took a step toward her. “Don’t talk back to me, Mamba,” he warned, his voice low and dangerous. “You made a mistake, and now you’ll pay for it.”

Rhea stood her ground, her body trembling but not from fear. The fire inside her had ignited. She wasn’t about to let him break her. Not like this.

“I’m not the one who messed up,” Rhea retorted, her voice rising. “You were the one who got sloppy. You were the one who trusted the wrong guy. So, don’t you dare blame me for everything that’s gone wrong.”

Demetri’s eyes flashed with rage, but something in his expression faltered as he took in her defiant stance. He didn’t say anything more. Instead, he dropped the bat, letting it fall to the floor with a loud clatter. Rhea didn’t move, still watching him carefully, her hand pressed against her neck, trying to quell the burning pain.

For a long moment, neither of them spoke. The silence in the room was thick with unspoken words, anger, and unresolved tension.

Finally, Demetri turned away, his back to her, and Rhea knew in that moment that things were different. Whatever bond they had before was shattered, replaced by something darker and more dangerous.

“I’ll deal with Morris,” Demetri muttered as he walked away, his voice cold and distant. “You stay out of it.”

Rhea didn’t answer. Instead, she allowed the tears that had been threatening to fall to stream down her face.

[mal3nko]

Something that I’ve come to notice is how surprisingly observant Vinh is when it comes to Max, specifically on an emotional level.

It’s interesting how, like Safi, Vinh is also able to pick up on the fact that Max has some sort of troubled past that she’s trying to suppress. But I feel like it’s even more impressive on Vinh’s part considering the fact that by comparison, Safi had been far closer to Max than he had been up until this point. I think it’s possible that Vinh is able to recognize a lot of the weariness that Max has been carrying around because he himself can relate to it, while also knowing what it’s like to try and hide it all away. It honestly makes me think back to the way the marketing described him as being “intelligent while also wielding social power”, as I think Vinh is someone who has trained himself to be able to read other people efficiently for his own needs in order to climb the social ladder, while in turn it has also made him a surprisingly emotionally intelligent person.

In contrast, it seems like Amanda has trouble picking up on Max’s hidden trauma, and is only able to view the more surface level stuff such as her grief over Safi’s death.

I think what intrigues me the most however is there scene together in Chapter 3. Max at this point in the game is feeling extremely depressed/insecure after Safi blew up at her, while also still reeling from everything that happened with Alderman. Amanda however isn’t able to detect the severity of Max’s demeanor until much later on in the scene.

It isn’t until Max continues to make self-deprecating comments about herself that Amanda is finally able to realize that something truly bad must have happened.

And this is no shade to Amanda! Not everyone has the ability to quickly pick up on someone’s emotional distress (we can’t all be miss Alex Chen!), and the girlie herself clearly has her own baggage to process considering the fact that she goes to therapy. But I think it’s interesting how Vinh is almost immediately able to notice Max’s dire mental state by comparison.

Something to take note of is that unlike with Amanda, Max actually does open up to Vinh about why she’s feeling so down here. When Amanda asked her what’s wrong, Max just kinda pivoted the conversation into questioning why the former even likes her, and from there she never got the opportunity to actually explain what had actually been bothering her despite it making more sense for her to do so in that timeline (minus the Alderman stuff lol) since Safi is obviously still alive over there. But with Vinh she just lets most of it out, to the point where she even slips up briefly and mentions how Safi is angry at her only to immediately realize her mistake.

And I love that! I love how Max has grown comfortable enough with Vinh in order to start being emotionally vulnerable around him. Up until this point she’s only really shown this type of vulnerability with Dead World Moses, which makes sense given the fact that they were both really close to Safi. This is something I think a lot about when it comes to their relationship post-game and how I think Vinh will be the first person after Safi that Max will open up to about Arcadia Bay/Chloe and all of the trauma surrounding her past.

[mitskicodedwukong]

✨ REDSON, SIX-EARED MACAQUE, & SUN WUKONG WITH AN ADHD S/O ✨

» three-thirty (AJR) « 0:45 ─〇───── 4:07

╔⏤⏤⏤⏤╝🍑╚⏤⏤⏤⏤╗ AUTHOR'S NOTE ╚⏤⏤⏤⏤╗🍑╔⏤⏤⏤╝ ➤ This is reposted from my old account, @nothyenlowz :3 ➤ These are headcanons. ➤ This is romantic. ➤ Reader is afab & uses she/her! ➤ I don't think I went as in depth as I could have been I still hope it's accurate and you enjoy it! ➤ TRIGGER WARNINGS include profanity, a little bit of angst, and minor violence. ➤ Word count: 1,361

───── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ─────

❝ You wanna skip it if it's wordy, but fit the whole song in three-thirty .❞

╔⏤⏤⏤⏤╝╚⏤⏤⏤⏤╗ REDSON 🔥 ╚⏤⏤⏤⏤╗╔⏤⏤⏤⏤╝

➤ before he finds out you have ADHD, i imagine he's confused by your behavior at best and frustrated by it at worst.

➤ your daydreaming and procrastination can be annoying for him, someone who's always about work, work, work. when you're talking to him about your fixations, he gets irritated because either he 1.) has no idea what you're talking about or 2.) thinks you're making fun of him since he often rambles about his inventions in a similar manner.

➤ he just doesn't understand why you're doing those things and neither do you. it causes a lot of struggles for you both initially, leading to shit communication and hurt feelings.

➤ when you're finally diagnosed, redson listens very closely. now your quirks are starting to make sense, but you still don't have as much information as he'd like. he researches ADHD in AFAB people rather meticulously on his own time (sometimes interrupted by his own anger at the lacking information for females), and by the end of it, he has a much improved understanding.

➤ and boy does he feel shitty. hindsight is 20/20 or something.

➤ the idea that he blew up at you for things out of your control makes him feel ashamed, especially when some of those things (like info-dumping) are signs of affection. so you don't see him for a while, partially due to some unhealthy self-punishment on his end, and also because he's trying to come up with a solution—that being a way to make it up to you, of course, not "fix" you.

➤ when redson stops avoiding you, he takes you out on a date with all your favorite activities and thoroughly apologizes to you. he promises to adjust his behavior to accommodate and support you.

➤ (which might have made you cry, considering you've always been treated like you're the problem.)

➤ true to his word, redson changes a lot. he leaves little notes for you as reminders, sets alarms for you, helps you finish or do tasks you don't have the energy for, etc. he even starts prompting info-dumping, reading up on the source material so he can ask questions.

➤ he also does his very best to educate himself on masking and burnout so he can a.) keep you from going there or b.) recognize the signs when you are there and help you. i like to imagine he made a sensory room for you that has all your favorite things and you can just go there to chill and unwind.

➤ he's also super protective over you. if people make fun of your stims, say you talk a lot, undermine your sensory issues, etc., he will DESTROY them. no way in hell is he letting you be disrespected like that. verbal smackdown, here we come.

➤ ultimately, it's a learning process. but it's one he's more than willing to thoroughly explore for you.

╔⏤⏤⏤⏤⏤╝╚⏤⏤⏤⏤⏤╗ SIX-EARED MACAQUE 🔮 ╚⏤⏤⏤⏤⏤╗╔⏤⏤⏤⏤⏤╝

➤ HONESTLY i headcanon macaque as autistic, so i feel like he had a feeling that you were ADHD before you did.

➤ probably made jokes like "it's the ADHD lol" for certain behaviors until you decided to do some research on it and were like "🧍‍♂️ yeah so—"

➤ not surprised at all when you're diagnosed, obviously. he uses the opportunity to show you coping mechanisms he's learned (though some have to be tweaked for your needs since autism isn't ADHD), and even begins to unmask more around you (which was inevitable anyway tbh, but it's easier now that he doesn't feel so different from you).

➤ since macaque thrives under routine/structure, he often handles reminders. he also keeps you on track, verbally and physically, if you have things to do. ALSO is super on you about eating, since he likes cooking.

➤ macaque's experienced dozens of burnouts in his long life, so he knows how awful they are. he can sniff out a burnout a mile away so i'd like to think that you don't experience many while with him because he's really good at pacing the both of you/being aware of your emotional and mental state. the dojo's pretty chill like 90% of the time due to his own sensory issues so it's a good place to unwind and relax.

➤ you guys have picked up so many phrases from each other. he'll be working on a script for a shadow play while you're cleaning and he'll just hear you laugh and go, "wow, didn't see that one comin'." it definitely flusters him that he's included in your echolalia.

➤ macaque rambles to you about theatrical pieces from various cultures. if you introduce him to new ones, tell him something he doesn't know about a piece he's already familiar with, etc. he'll kiss you istg. anyway this is to say the feeling is mutual and he probably ends up getting into some of the media/hobbies you tell him about!

➤ you guys mutually bully each other lmao. you'll be trying to do some work, get to talking to him about whatever comes to you, and then suddenly it's three hours later. you're like "FUCK" and he just laughs at you (you get him back, of course, and it's all in good fun).

➤ he barely thinks beating anyone who talks shit about you is an overreaction, but if you don't like it then you'll just have a clone stick around in your shadow or something to scare the shit out of anyone who decides to open their mouth to you.

➤ in summary, macaque is very helpful and teaches you coping skills when it comes to sensory issues + overload.

╔⏤⏤⏤⏤╝❀╚⏤⏤⏤⏤╗ SUN WUKONG 🍑 ╚⏤⏤⏤⏤╗❀╔⏤⏤⏤⏤╝

➤ first off, i headcanon Wukong as ADHD, too.

➤ with that said, i feel like Wukong just... assumed you knew you were ADHD and rolled with it.

➤ like you guys constantly quoted/repeated each other/shows and stimmed at/with each other. you'd get in loops. you'd adapt each other's phrases/stims. neurotypicals don't do that.

➤ it's genuinely amusing thinking about you two just repeating the same things at each other. it's such a serotonin boost and it makes you both laugh. same for when you stim together, especially hand-flapping and jumping up and down.

➤ you're both trash at remembering stuff but fortunately you seem to have an awful lot of capacity for the other—meaning you remind wukong he has a session with MK today because he forgot, and he reminds you that you agreed to make noodles with pigsy today because you forgot.

➤ i don't think remembering to eat or drink is a big problem for you, since wukong is a big comfort eater and shares his snacks with you so you kinda just... roll with it lol.

➤ wukong has a bunch of homemade stim tools. once he sees that you're interested, he makes some more for you. even after your diagnosis, you don't try "professionally" made stim toys—you just don't need them when wukong's work so well.

➤ you guys spend hours talking about your interests, ping-ponging off each other. like: "OH, did you know x?" "NO, but did you hear about x?" x1000.

➤ you guys also bully each other. "Hey Great Sage you forgot do the dishes again, you crusty bitch"; "says the dumbass who started folding laundry and then did a fashion show with the monkeys".

➤ like macaque, wukong's had his fair share of burnouts. unfortunately, he's not super good at preventing them or even realizing he's in them until it's been a few months, but you guys take care of each other if the other is struggling. you're also very aware of the other's limits so if one of you is pushing it, you can help each other step back.

➤ wukong learned a great deal of patience and mercy from his journey, so people being unkind to him doesn't really bother him. plus, he barely leaves his mountain as is—but if one of those times, someone doesn't to be a dick while you're stimming or something? best case scenario, he has some very choice words—worst case scenario, bro's taking it upon himself to remind the public why you should be more considerate of who you're snarking to.

➤ basically, nothing changes after you get diagnosed lol. you and wukong are very happy ADHD gremlins who are celebrating your neurodivergency :)

❝ I thought I had the ADHD, but that's a real thing (and I'm just lazy) .❞

[perseephoneee]

winter ball [ficmas day 14] [kol mikaelson x f!reader] cinderella au

↳ masterlist ↳ ship exchange ↳ taglist ↳ ficmas 2024

author's note: this is less wintery than i intended (whoops) but also this might be one of my favorite things I've ever written!!! i'm literally so hyped for it!!! p.s. thanks to charmed for all the spells lol

playlist:

once upon a dream -- lana del rey

that's so true -- gracie abrams

just like christmas -- low

The floor was ashy again. 

Your sisters were horrendous with maintaining the fireplace, and always left the place filthy. Of course, it fell on you to clean up. You always had the clean up. 

You were cleaning the apothecary, brushing up all the scattered herbs and dead things that your stepsisters would drag in under the guise of 'magic.' They had no magic of their own, you knew that. Your stepmother always indulged them, always. 

They never stayed long at work, though, always finding an excuse to go somewhere else. So it was just you in the shop. 

The bells rang above your door. 

You looked up to see Prince Kol walking into your store. You straighten up immediately, dipping into a curtsy. He waved you off. 

"No pleasantries, it's pretentious, and I hate it," he drawled. He was the youngest of his three brothers, commonly known as the wily one. Also known as the devilishly handsome one. Not that you thought about it. 

"Apologies, Your Highness," you murmured, head still bowed. "Is there something I can help you with?"

"According to my network, you're the best apothecary in the kingdom," Kol shoved his hands in his pockets, rifling around until he found what he was looking for. He planted a flower on the table. "I want your help identifying this."

You picked up the flower, twirling it between your fingers. It seemed like one of the common valley flowers, but the energy of it felt off. You touched some of the petals. 

"I'd have to consult my books; I don't recognize it immediately," you hummed. 

"I need it identified sooner rather than later, and I'll pay handsomely," Kol grinned. You looked up at him. His eyes regarded you, cooly, taking into thought every detail. You felt shivers down your spine. 

"May I ask the purpose of this project?" you inquired. 

"Secrets, darling," Kol put a finger to his lips. "This is also confidential; don't mention it to anyone."

"To whom would I mention it?" you muttered. You bit the inside of your cheek to stop any more comments. He smiled gleefully. "I'll check in tomorrow."

You watched him leave the way he came, a flurry of energy here and then gone. You sat down at the desk in the back, twirling the flower stem. No one was in the shop to witness you, so you flicked your fingers and brought several books over to your table. They flipped open to the pages you needed. You were too lazy to stand up and peruse the shelf, especially after your morning. You stayed camped over your desk until your stepmother and sisters got back. They whisked through the door like a tornado. 

"We must make an appointment with the modiste to prepare," your stepmother, Ms. Laurel, said. She glanced around the store as if it personally offended her and as if it wasn't the thing that kept her finances. Your step sisters, Hana and Monet, were not much better. 

"I will have the best chance because of my lovely neck," Monet crooned. She acted like a swan. Hana nudged her over. 

"But I have the best ankles."

"He will not care if neither of you can carry a conversation," Ms. Laurel groaned, hand on her head. She finally noticed your presence. "You still need to dust."

You had, but she would never admit that. 

"What's at the modiste?" you asked, voice small. Ms. Laurel rolled her eyes. 

"Dresses, you dull girl," Ms. Laurel took a seat by the shelf, rubbing her temples. "Prince Elijah is seeking a wife before his coronation, and he's opening invitations to every eligible girl in the kingdom."

No wonder your step sisters were in a tizzy. Not that they'd have a chance. Hana could be mean, but mostly, the two of them were the product of their upbringing. Vapid and clueless to true suffering. You closed your books, hiding the flower under some papers. No, you wouldn't tell your stepmother about Kol's arrival. That was something you'd keep to yourself. 

"And before you ask, you are not attending. I'll need someone to manage the apothecary."

"Not that I wanted to go anyway," you grumbled. Her excuse was false; no one would have come to the apothecary if the crown prince had a ball. Both of you knew that. 

Ms. Laurel whisked out of the shop soon after with your sisters in tow. Some excuses are being made for their absence. Her name might've been on the lease, but it was not hers. It was yours. You waited until the last rings of the bell on the door could be heard before bothering to use magic again. Your books weren't giving you any information, so it was time to try a little trick.

Like an extension of yourself, you let your magic weave around the petals, dancing across as it sought its origin. Tastes and purposes came to your mind, and with perfect clarity, you knew the flower for what it was. You dropped it hurriedly on the table, alarmed. At least you weren't a fool and didn't ingest the flower. You'd probably be dead already. 

You were a little annoyed at the prince for just leaving it with you. 

Like clockwork, he came in again tomorrow. He was once again dressed very casually for a man of his status. He wore the same flirting grin. 

"Have you discovered its origins yet?" he asked, hands clasped behind his back. You leveled a glare at him. 

"Capriforacacus," you raised a brow. "Commonly known as the 'devil's eye,' it's a type of extremely poisonous huckleberry. It's the only one that happens to flower."

"Ah, so you are as good as they say," he purrs. The low timbre of his voice sends shivers up your spine. "Little witchling."

You bristle at the name. "I'm no witch."

"Only magic can truly identify devil's eye," Kol tsked. "That borne of magic can only be found the same ways."

"You tricked me."

"I tested you," Kol shrugged. "I'm so happy I did. You are a sight when you are angry."

Despite him being a pain in your ass, there was nothing malicious about the youngest prince. He was a trickster and annoying, but he looked at you in wonder and intrigue. This was only a witchhunt in the sense that he needed a witch. He had no intention of hurting you. It didn't do much to take away the sour taste on your tongue. 

He leaned as elbows against your table, leaning in close to you. If it were polite, you would've pushed your seat back. As it was, you didn't want to show any vulnerability. Kol grinned. 

"Now that I know I can trust you," Kol smirked. "I do have a real task for you."

"Identifying poisons?"

"Unsure," he said. He pulled out a bunch of random things from his breeches pockets. A coin from the Gulf Coast, a bird's femur, dried plants, and more. It looked like a bad collection of oddities. "This is a secret, darling, so don't utter it to anyone."

You had no one to tell, even if you wanted. 

"I shall be made Spymaster when my brother, 'Lijah, becomes king. I'm adept at sneaking around, and I have no desire to rule. Elijah, despite boring me, knows that. I've already started into my role even though coronation is not for a while."

You had the sense that Kol made a very good spy. He was charming and mischievous and didn't seem to initially come off as threatening. You got the feeling he was actually one of the most dangerous. 

"I have reason to believe that someone is making an attempt on my brother's life," Kol said delicately. Your breath caught in your throat. "We've had various dignitaries coming to stay for the ball at the end of the month, and I've been finding various totems such as these throughout the castle. I've run with enough witches in my day to sense a hex."

He wasn't wrong. Much of what was on the table were various elements in spellwork. Not necessarily evil, but it ws safer to imagine it was for nefarious reasons. You picked up one of the bird bones and grimaced. There was no 'light' spell that utilized animal bones. 

"What are you hoping I will do?" you asked, looking up at him. His dark eyes regarded you cooly. 

"Figure out the spell, figure out the caster," he grinned, the light making his teeth look as sharp as fangs. "I'll be visiting periodically to help, of course. Monitor your progress."

"Make sure I'm not spilling your secrets to the highest bidder," you answered. He quirked a brow, confirming your answer. 

"You will be paid handsomely for your task."

"I'd hope so," you answered without thinking. Curse your stupid tongue. It only spurred him on further. 

"Aren't you a firecracker? I look forward to our next meeting," Kol bowed to you, heading back out of the store. He paused at the threshold, turning to look at you. The sun from the outside gave his hair a warm glow, and he looked every part of the ruggedly handsome prince. "Till later, witchling."

You seethed at the nickname. 

~

When you weren't doing chores for Ms. Laurel, you were researching the various objects. 

The only benefit of your 'room' was that it was on the lowest form of your modest townhome. It was essentially a closet, but far away from prying eyes that allowed you to practice your magic freely. Your body grew hot and itchy when you couldn't cast, and you reveled in the times by yourself when you would conjure the elements. It served even more use now as you utilized your magic to further your research. You weren't closer to an answer, although you were eliminating options. That much was good. 

Your room was next to the kitchen, and occasionally, you had to hide what you were doing from your stepmother, who would come to berate you, and Monet, who would come to steal food. Sometimes, she asked how you were. You weren't sure if she fully meant it. 

You didn't get to see Kol until a week later. 

You had had minimal interactions with the prince, but you found that you missed his energy. You were often a footnote, nothing of importance. Your father was once a respected healer, your mother a hidden witch, and the apothecary renowned for its medicine. Witchcraft was by no means illegal, but it wasn't welcome. Your mother always managed to disguise her healing as something else, even if it was a miracle. You wished you had the same grace she did. 

Your father would've been able to help you with your research, especially before he started to lose his memory before he remarried a woman just so he wouldn't lose the shop. It's times like these you miss him the most. 

It was late afternoon when Kol arrived. He came bearing gifts. You perked up as he took out a bottle of wine and a fresh loaf of bread. 

"I thought it would be nice to have nourishment while studying."

"I think you're spoiling me," you said, mouth salivating from the scents. You hadn't had anything fresh like that loaf in a while, and the wine was way above what you could afford. Kol poured you a glass, and you took a delicate sip. It was full-bodied in a way that made your bones settle into themselves. "Thank you."

"Anything for a pretty witch," Kol winked. You wonder if he flirted with everybody. Part of you hoped it was special only to you. "What progress have you made?"

You spent hours at the shop with Kol, flipping the door sign to 'closed' to offer you some privacy. Kol was your initial assessment and so much more. He was ridiculously intelligent and very curious about the magical world. He was also a little reckless and definitely lived life hanging precariously over the edge. You wondered if he ever worried about falling. 

You conjured a little apparition of a rabbit to quell his curiosity. 

"Elijah plans to welcome magic users onto his court," Kol said, his eyes still full of wonder from the rabbit bouncing around the room. You perked up. 

"He does?"

"He feels that the stigma has gone on too long, that it's time we utilized and appreciated the gifts of witches and warlocks."

You wondered how that would go over with the general public. Kol must've seen the hesitation in your face. 

"Darling," Kol breathed. "Don't be ashamed of your talents and what talents they are." He grinned. You felt yourself grow lighter under his gaze. 

"You're not bad," you whispered, the setting sun casting the shop in tones of pink and orange.

"Did you think I was?"

"I didn't know what to think," you answered honestly. "Most people describe you as dangerous."

"Who says I'm not?"

"You're nice to me," you looked at the bread crumbs from your meal. "That isn't very dangerous."

"Ah, but I did get you wine drunk," Kol grinned, nodding towards your empty glass. He wasn't wrong; your head felt full of fluff. "So, maybe I am as dangerous as they say."

"Are you trying to make me scared of you?" you inquired.

"Is it working?" He leaned forward on the table, almost nose to nose with you. He had thick lashes that you were jealous of. 

"No," you responded. You were being truthful in your statement. He knew it, too. He looked into your eyes as if searching for more truths about you. You didn't know how to offer anything else to him. 

He came over a few more times leading up to the ball, but you were no closer to solving your mystery. One night, you figured out the exact ingredients for the spell. It would bring its target into a deep sleep. Not death, but merely a coma. It still wasn't good, though. 

"Could it be one of the female dignitaries?" you asked. "Securing an engagement so that if Prince Elijah goes into this sleep, she will have the opportunity to rule without the threat of murder?"

"Then she can con him with a fertility spell," Kol mused, tracing the rim of his wine glass with his finger. "Why a sleep spell?"

You weren't closer to figuring out who cast it. 

You did enjoy your time with Kol, though. How could you not? He supplied you with wine and food and laughter, things you rarely got yourself. Camped out in the shop at night, it was your own little world. One where he wasn't the prince, and you weren't a witch. You just were. Sometimes, you caught him looking at you, and your skin would grow hot. You dreamed once of stolen kisses and lingering touches, and the next day, when you saw him, you could barely make eye contact. You were getting into territories you could never come back from. What would happen when your mission was over?

That sadness overcame you the night of the ball. Kol had promised to pay you for your services the day afterward, but then you knew you'd never see him again. Your heart hurts because of it. 

You were sipping tea in the greeting room when your sisters whisked down in their gowns. 

"You both look lovely," you said, giving them a small smile. Monet smiled back, but Hana ignored you, checking her reflection in a mirror. 

"Of course they do; they're gorgeous," Ms. Laurel said as she came down the stairs after them. She was also dressed up, almost as flashy as them. You'd think she was also out to secure an engagement. She pointed a gloved finger at you. "We will be back by midnight. I expect you to have our rooms ready and baths drawn by then."

"Yes, mother."

"Good, we best get going. We're securing our futures!" she cheered, ushering her girls out the door. You watched them with a pang of envy. You didn't care about marrying Elijah, but you'd be a liar to say you didn't enjoy pretty things. You would've liked to wear a pretty dress and see Kol. Maybe he wouldn't have pretended you were a secret. 

You made yourself some dinner with whatever you had stored in your icebox before settling down at the table with all your books again. Something was tugging at your memory, but you couldn't think about what it was. Suddenly, it clicked. You rushed to grab all the spell elements. 

The lesson learned was that maybe you shouldn't always be wine-drunk while trying to find a potential killer. You would need magic for this secret. You whispered the words in the air, imagining each item being a tangled thread. You subtly unpicked all of them, untying the knots and moving them to the side until they formed a bigger picture. When you got to the last one, you gasped. You were an idiot to not see it before. 

If it was true, though, then the spell would be happening tonight, and everyone could see it. You needed to get to the ball. But with what? Even if you could get there, the guards would not let a simple girl like you in. You rushed towards your mother's grimoire. 

You hid it under your bed so your stepsisters couldn't ruin it or Ms. Laurel couldn't burn it. You flipped to the section about disguise spells. You thanked your mother as you found what you were looking for. 

You grabbed the necessary ingredients and laid them out in a salt circle, standing in the middle. You held some loose salt in your hand and sprinkled it over you as you recited the words:

Who you were

You're now another

Take this dress

Make it something other

Your simple clothes were reimagined into a glimmering gown. Your sleeves were gossamer incarnate, the bodice tight before flowing out into the skirt in tiers of satin and chiffon. It made you look delicate and ethereal. It was perfect. 

It came with matching sparkling slippers. They were annoyingly comfortable. 

While you solved your problem of an outfit (and hair, your mother really thought of everything), you still needed a ride. An idea came to you. You conjured a water horse, one of the spirits from the fifth element, and using another of your mother's spells made it corporeal. It was a beautiful white steed, happy to take you where you needed. It would return to its place in the spirit realm by the end of the night. 

All the magic you used made your blood sing and your vision sharper. You raced towards the castle, the wind whipping your hair in a way that made you laugh. You couldn't help it. You felt so free. You ended up at the castle in record time, and even though you were late, no one seemed to care. Everyone was invited, after all. 

You caught a few glances as you raced through the front entrance, searching for the ballroom. You came onto a large staircase in the middle of a dance. Your eyes searched the crowd for Kol, but you couldn't find him, so you started making your way down. You ignored the many eyes looking at you. 

You almost crashed into Kol at the bottom of the stairs. Where he had come from, you had no idea. 

He was dressed like a prince tonight, not like the hellion he normally was. Your breath was taken from you as you regarded him with new eyes. He was always this handsome (you knew that), but in this look, everyone could see it too. 

"Hi, witchling," Kol smiled. His eyes couldn't stop looking at you. "Care to join me?"

He offered you his hand. You heard some people start whispering to each other. You were a strange girl being asked to dance by one of the princes; you suppose it warranted some fascination. Your words were failing you, so you nodded and let him whisk you to the dance floor. He pulled you into a simple waltz. 

"Kol–"

"I resent you for coming tonight," he whispered to you. You looked at him in confusion. "You make it very hard to move on from you."

"Move on?"

"You have bewitched me, darling," he murmurs. "In body and soul."

"Kol," you breathe. You wanted to ask him why you, of all people, have caught his attention; you want to grab him by his lapels and kiss him. You want to run away with him forever. But you remember why you came, not to kiss a prince, but to save one. "Kol, I know who's behind the spell."

He froze at that, his expression becoming guarded again. You whispered into his ear, and he blanched. 

"We need to get you out of here. Now," he cursed, looking around the ballroom. 

"What? Why?"

"He knows I've been looking into it. And you're a witch," Kol said simply. "He'll pin the whole thing on you."

"Kol–" you started but were cut off by shouts of the royal guard. Kol wasn't lying. They were going to use you as a scapegoat. Kol pushed you in the direction of the exit, trying to buy you time. You ran as fast as you could in your heels, picking up your skirts so you didn't trip and tumble on the ground. People were pushed out of the way by the guards, some crying out from the intrusion. You didn't stop, though; you ran towards the entrance. 

Your feet betrayed you. You tripped on the stairs, one of your slippers falling off. You ignored it, continuing down. Several guards came out at the bottom, trapping you. You breathed heavily as you realized this was the end of the road. 

"Arrest her for conspiracy against the crown," the chilling voice of Prince Klaus, the middle brother, crooned. He came down the steps without a care in the world. His eyes were cold and distant. 

"Don't arrest her!" Kol yelled, running up behind his brother. He grabbed your shoe on the way down, almost brandishing it as a weapon as he skidded to a stop. "She's innocent. This is a ploy."

"My dear brother, so desperate for attention," Klaus drawled. "Using this poor girl as an instrument to get the crown. I suppose we'll have to arrest him too."

Kol bristled, and you could do nothing as two guards grabbed him and started to pull him away. Klaus smiled gleefully, no kindness for his brother. You felt the guards attempt to grab your arms, but you wrestled out of them, magic surging through you, providing strength. Your mind went on autopilot, the spells coming easily as you held off the guards with one hand and pointed an accusing finger at Prince Klaus. 

"For those who want the truth revealed

Open hearts and secrets unsealed

From now on, until it's now again

After which, the memory ends.

Those who are now in this place

Will hear the truths in time and space."

Klaus stumbled back, the force of your spell knocking him off his feet. You let the guards go, and the force of your suddenly removing your shield caused them to fall on the steps. You took a step towards Klaus. 

"Prince Klaus conspired to hurt Crown Prince Elijah in an effort to secure the crown for himself," you announced to the crowd. You don't remember the last time you were this brave. "He utilized witchcraft from one of the visiting nations in order to put Prince Elijah in a deep sleep. As the second eldest brother, the crown would fall to him."

The crowd gasped as Klaus' cheeks grew red, his glare focused on you. 

"But Prince Elijah is his brother; he could never kill him. This was the better option. He planned to put it on one of the visiting dignitaries to act as the dutiful brother taking over a post he didn't ask for. Prince Kol started noticing the threats and started investigating, and Prince Klaus knew he needed to pivot. So, he decided to use Prince Kol and me as scapegoats. Positioning the reckless prince and the witch as the enemies."

You took another step towards Klaus, brow raised. 

"Isn't that right, Klaus?" you murmured. 

"That is all true," Klaus said, eyes widening as he slapped a hand over his mouth. You grinned. Your truth spell would make it so he couldn't lie. 

“Niklaus, it’s true?”

Everyone turned to see Prince Elijah, face distraught. He had come out at the end of the confession. You watched Klaus struggle to stop the words from coming out. 

"It's not fair that you get to be King," Klaus seethed. You thought you imagined someone fainting. Elijah looked sad, and you felt for him. You didn't want to imagine what it would feel like to have your sibling do something like that to you. 

"Please release my brother, Kol," Elijah sighed. "And put Prince Klaus in the dungeons for sentencing. Everyone, please go back inside and enjoy the party while the night is young."

The guards took Klaus inside, the rest rounding up the rest of the guests to give Elijah some time to process. You tried to sneak back inside, but Elijah held up a hand, stopping you. 

"You helped my brother discover the spell, correct?" Elijah asked. He was much calmer than Klaus and Kol, much more methodical. You thought its why he would make a better King. 

"Yes, Your Highness," you bowed. Elijah stepped closer to you, taking your hand and kissing its back. Your cheeks flushed. 

"Thank you for saving me."

"It-It was mostly Prince Kol, Your Highness," you stumbled. "He came to me for help."

"Do not sell yourself short, miss–?" Elijah paused, tilting his head to regard you. You recognized the head tilt as something Kol did as well. 

"Y/N, Your Highness."

"Please, call me Elijah," he smiled. He turned towards Kol, who was standing to the side, attempting nonchalance. The desperate look in his eyes betrayed him. Elijah left your side to walk over to Kol's. He offered him his hand. 

"Thank you, for protecting me and your family," Elijah smiled. Kol's expression made your heart break. "You are a better Mikaelson than any of us will ever be."

Kol shook his hand, but Elijah pulled him into a hug. He released him just as quickly. He glanced between you and Kol and smiled knowingly. He whispered something to Kol, which caused him to blush. You had never seen the younger prince embarrassed, but you were lying if you said you didn't enjoy it. 

"You are welcome at the palace anytime, miss Y/N," Elijah bowed to you. "I expect to see you soon."

He left you outside with Kol. You shuffled on the steps, your bare foot cold against the marble. Kol noticed and held up your shoe. 

"May I?" he asked. You nodded, your voice caught in your throat. He kneeled before you, gently lifting up your ankle and putting the shoe back on. His touch was somehow both cold and hot, the skin on his hands rough from use. The image of him kneeling before you was enough to send your heart tumbling. He stood up, giving you a grin. 

"You saved my family."

"You say 'save' as if I singlehandedly figured this out," you said. "It was you as well."

"I provided wine," he laughed. "You provided the knowledge."

"At least Prince Klaus didn't intend to kill your brother," you shrugged. "Although, I know that doesn't truly offer any consolation."

"It doesn't," Kol agreed. "But it'll be okay. Because of you."

"You both are putting a lot of pressure on me."

"I can't help it," Kol shrugged. He took your hands in his, brushing his fingers over your knuckles. "You're a vision."

"You don't have to talk to me now that the job is done," you breathed, looking down at your hands. Your heart clenched in preparation for rejection. 

"What makes you think you aren't stuck with me?" Kol smirked. "I've spent years looking for someone like you."

"A witch?"

"A princess."

He looked at you with a molten intensity that set your insides to ash. You wondered if you were on fire with how hot he made you. You opened and closed your mouth, unable to respond. Kol lifted your hand to his lips, kissing every single finger with a determination that made you melt. 

"You can't be… I'm nobody," you stuttered, but Kol grinned, holding his hands to his chest. 

"I started to fall in love with you from the first day," Kol answered smoothly. "My brother all but begged me to propose to you. You are not a nobody to me."

“But…I…”

"Most marriages have been built on less," Kol cupped your cheek, his thumb brushing over your skin. "Gods know I would've been betrothed to some boring noble woman."

"I…" you had no words. You couldn't say you loved him yet, but you knew you were dangerously close to it. All those hours and days spent together, every conversation and stolen laughter. You felt genuine terror when they started dragging him away. You knew that by saying yes, you were all but solidifying your heart as his forever. You found you weren't afraid of it. You found it made you feel free. "...Yes."

"Yes?"

"Yes, I'll marry you," you breathed. "Kol–"

He cut you off with a kiss like he had been a starving man and you were an oasis. You had never been kissed before; your only expectations were those from the gossip you heard around the market. This was infinitely better than all of those. One hand cupped your cheek while the other gripped your waist, pulling you closer to him. You wrapped your arms around his neck, sighing. He took that opportunity to deepen the kiss. You felt like you could kiss him forever. 

He pulled away to your mild protest. "You are a vision in this dress. If I were a worse man, I'd take it off of you."

"Kol," you protested, giving him a warning glare. He just chuckled, kissing you again. 

"I'm all yours, darling. All yours."

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