#but when it gets longer than that I slowly but surely get a panic attack

[light-wrath-paradise]

I'm the most normal person alive and had a panic attack during today's lecture and now I'm passing the fuck out due to Atarax.

[starmapz]

what you know - ch7: yuletide || r. sukuna

❦ ryomen sukuna x f!reader [college au] [ongoing series]

❝ you've heard his reputation and you've seen first-hand the way he's late to class if he even bothers to show up. paired with him for the most important project of the year, you choose to give him the benefit of the doubt- but maybe that's more than he deserves when your perfect grades depend on him, or maybe there's more to the aloof and irritable sukuna than meets the eye. ❞

❦ cw ; mdni, 18+ only. contains explicit sexual themes and content. use of alcohol. use of cannabis. use of nicotine/cigarettes. angst. hurt/no comfort. hurt/comfort. implied injury. family trauma. mutual pining. smut. slow burn. anxiety. panic (attacks). mentions of difficulty eating. vomit. tags will be updated as series continues.

❦ additional tags ; college parties and themes. sukuna ooc warning as this is a realistic take on modern sukuna. reader is fairly preppy and implied to be smaller than sukuna, but he's 6"11.

❦ words ; 11.2k.

❦ a/n ; happy holidays to those who celebrate! this was originally intended to be a little bonus chapter but as you can see, it kinda got away from me LOL. so i hope you enjoy <3

main masterlist || series masterlist || previous chapter || next chapter

“Kunaaaaaaaa!”

Walking back from Choso’s friend’s house, Sukuna inhales sharply, pinching the bridge of his nose. “I’m right here, quit yelling, brat.”

“You’re not listening though!” Yuji pouts, tugging at his arm until he kneels down.

And god, Sukuna’s head pounds the moment he’s lowered himself down to his little brother’s height. His mind is practically screaming at him, begging him to lay down in the dark and sleep just a little bit longer.

With a sigh, Sukuna rubs at his temple. “What, Yu?”

“Cho’s friend said they’re having a big, big Christmas dinner with turkey and stuffing and veggies and- and- potatoes, and they have a big tree and decorations and they have family traveling to see them-”

Sukuna lowers his hand from his head slowly, eyes narrowed in an attempt to fend off the effects of his hangover following his night of drinking, partying, and chicken fingers as he listens to Yuji go on about the holidays.

Christmas.

Aside from saving a bit of extra money to get gifts, Sukuna hasn’t exactly had the luxury of stopping to think much about it. He supposes he could have, and probably should have focused on that yesterday rather than going to Gojo’s party, but he needed a night to himself more than ever before with the lawsuit weighing down heavily on his shoulders.

He’s not thrilled that in his drunken stupor he dragged you into the fray of his issues with his step-mother, if Sukuna even dared grace her with such a name, but somehow it doesn’t seem quite as dire with you on his side.

“Seeeeeeee!” Yuji groans, catching Sukuna lost in thought. “You’re not listeningggg!”

His jaw tightens. “I’m listening,” he grumbles, gritting his teeth as he drags his palm over his face.

He casts a glance at Choso, who’s blankly staring at the exchange between his older and younger brothers, and Sukuna wonders if the twelve-year-old is worrying about him right now. He wonders if this is one of those moments that his own kid brother is contemplating his well-being.

With a pang in his heart, he grimaces and gives Yuji his full attention. “You wanna have a big Christmas?”

Yuji nods eagerly. Swallowing hard, Sukuna prays he can provide that and not dull the light behind his eyes. The reality is that no matter what he does, there won’t be a big extended family, or a turkey, or even a big tree. The most he can manage is a small tree, a couple of friends, and some decorations from the dollar store.

Yuji isn’t old enough to remember the holidays with their dad, and his mom was gone so soon after he was born that Sukuna doubts he remembers her at all, let alone a holiday with her. Choso surely remembers both, though during their first holiday as just the three of them, Sukuna destroyed the illusion of holiday merriment and the joys of waking up on Christmas morning to gifts from Santa.

It wasn’t on purpose, but he had no clue what he was doing. He wasn’t in a good place mentally, nor did he have the money for much more than a hoodie Choso had wanted. The closest thing they’d had to a Christmas that year was Uraume surprising them by coming over and cooking dinner. Since then, it’s become tradition. Uraume never expects a gift in return for cooking a full Christmas dinner and even leaving the leftovers, but Sukuna makes an effort regardless to return the favor.

With a huff, Sukuna stands at his full height, running a hand through his disheveled hair as he gives in to his little brother’s request. That’s how he finds himself pushing a cart through the dollar store with his brothers in tow and a mean hangover that seems to have no intention of relenting anytime soon as the sterile white lighting beats down on him.

“What about these?” Choso holds up a stack of Christmas plates and napkins.

With a glance at the price, Sukuna mutters a ‘sure’, only because nodding makes his head absolutely ache.

Leaning over the cart, Sukuna watches Choso grab reasonable items, while Yuji shovels anything and everything he can into the cart.

“No,” Sukuna mutters each time a plush, massive wreath, or Christmas themed cookies make their way into the cart.

“Kuna, can we pleeeaaase at least get these?” He begs, holding up a pair of light-up antlers. He clicks a button on the ears, causing the lights to flash.

“No, Yu. Put ‘em back.”

Yuji pouts, staring down at them in his hands as he fiddles with the fabric of the ears. The little boy glances back up at Sukuna with wide, glassy eyes and sure enough, his resolve crumbles.

“Fine. Grab a pair for Cho, too.”

Yuji parades around the cart with a series of ‘yay’s and ‘thank you’s, and even Choso’s eyes light up as Sukuna leans further over the cart until the wheels are squeaking in an effort to support his weight.

The aisle is a blur of pink hair as Yuji bounces around the decorations, lips pursing into a big ‘o’ as he points at a small Christmas tree with lights strung around it. With a yawn, Sukuna mildly watches as Choso tries to talk the pink-haired child down from the tree that’s on the more expensive side for the dollar store, but even his eyes go wide with wonder as Sukuna reaches over them and sets it in the cart.

Remember when everything at the dollar store used to actually cost a dollar? Sukuna certainly does.

“Alright, that’s enough,” Sukuna sighs, leading the way towards the exit as Yuji talks his ear off about how he wants to watch Christmas movies. As he goes on about how he’s never seen Home Alone, Sukuna watches the cashier scan their items, his brow furrowing as he sees Choso pull a Santa hat out from the pile in the cart. “No,” he scolds, holding his hand out to his brother expectantly.

Usually the reasonable of the two kids, Sukuna simply raises a brow when Choso continues his motions, placing a second Santa hat on the counter. The poor employee has paused with an uncertain expression, taking note of the debate going on between the two siblings.

“Choso,” Sukuna growls, holding his hand out more expectantly.

The boy grabs a third Santa hat, placing it on the counter as well.

“Choso,” Sukuna hisses, reaching forward to grab the hats off the counter but the little boy snatches them away first.

“Please, Kuna.”

“No. Antlers or hats, not both.”

Yuji grabs his brother’s hand in solidarity, pouting up at Sukuna.

“No, brat. That won’t work twice.” Losing patience, Sukuna pulls out his card, silently threatening to pay and leave if they don’t choose.

“Kuna, please. I won’t ask for anything else,” Choso pleads.

He falters, his thumb running over the chip on his card as he shoots the dark-haired Itadori a glance from his peripherals. Why the hell does he want these hats so bad? He’s not sure he understands, but the extra few dollars won’t kill him, and if he’s being honest, there’s another reason behind his sudden leniency with the two kids.

There’s a small nagging thought in the back of his mind that this might be his last holiday with the brothers. It’s not something he wants to consider, not when he thinks his guardianship for the last three years over the two of them should count for something in court, but he can’t deny the feeling of unease that has him giving in to another request.

“Fuck,” he mutters under his breath, using his spare hand to massage between his brows in an effort to dull his headache. “Fine.”

Yuji cheers happily as all three hats flop onto the counter. The cashier shoots an uncertain glance at Sukuna, who scowls down at the hats at the realization that there’s three of them, which means one’s for him, but he keeps his mouth shut as they scan the last of the items.

With a tap of his card, he tucks it back into his wallet, handing each of his brothers some small, lighter bags, while he grabs the tree.

The walk back to the apartment is grueling between the excited ramblings of Yuji, the overcast sun assaulting Sukuna’s hungover senses and the melting snow that’s giving way to a particularly icy sidewalk. How convenient.

Finally reaching their apartment, Sukuna lobs the tree down on the ground and unceremoniously tosses himself over the couch. At his height, his legs dangle over the edge of the couch, but it’s such a relief to lay down that it feels comfier than ever. He drapes his arm over his eyes to shield himself from the natural light flooding in through the windows as his brothers take it upon themselves to decorate the apartment.

He must have drifted off, because the feeling of Yuji tugging on his hoodie jolts him awake very suddenly. Dazed, he drags his hands over his face harshly before cracking his eyes open. His headache has dulled enough that he can function without the sharp pain of a pounding head, but he could definitely have used some more sleep.

“Will Rume be here this year?” Yuji asks as he tugs at Sukuna’s hood.

“Christ, brat, you’re gonna choke me,” Sukuna gruffs, pulling the collar of his hoodie back down. “Yeah, they’ll be here,” he confirms, carding a hand through his hair. Much like Sukuna, Yuji hasn’t quite gotten Uraume’s name down, but they’ve never seemed to mind.

Yuji bounds off with tinsel in-hand, tossing the glittery strands of foil over a kitchen chair. With a yawn, Sukuna sits up and takes a look around. “Oh, fuck me,” he mutters under his breath as he realizes that the apartment is no longer just overrun with beaded lizards, but there’s now tinsel strung up on every surface that the two boys could reach. The apartment practically looks like a craft store threw up in it.

A muscle in his jaw ticks as he stares at the absolute fire hazard that the stove is looking like right now and he sighs, pushing himself to his feet to get his laptop. The two kids go barreling past him in a fit of laughter, nearly bowling him over if he weren’t so steady on his feet.

“Hey. Hey! No tinsel on the stove, you two know better!” Sukuna barks. They don’t even cast him so much as a glance, but Sukuna can’t be bothered to deal with the issue himself right now. Flopping down on his bed, he leans against his headboard and opens his email.

He scarcely remembers letting you know he got home last night as you’d requested, having passed out shortly after sending the email, but he’s somewhat surprised to find that the timestamp from your email is from late last night as well. You must have stayed awake until he emailed to make sure he was safe. Something stirs in his stomach at the thought, but he quickly pushes it aside.

englishlitstudies@gmail.com - Saturday, 2:42 AM

Good to hear, Kuna! Get some sleep, thanks for the ice cream!! :)

He lets out a breath of relief at seeing you type his nickname, thanking any god that will listen that you aren’t upset with him anymore. Especially with how much he’d fumbled his shitty apology, completely ill-prepared and inebriated. Even sober, he doesn’t think he would have been prepared, but drunk and high? It’s a miracle he pulled it off at all.

“Kuna?”

Sukuna peers over his laptop to the doorway, his usual disinterested stare falling on a head of messy pink hair. He doesn’t respond, but Yuji knows he has his brother’s attention as crimson eyes look over his hopeful expression.

“The stove is clean.”

“Good.”

“Sorry,” Yuji fiddles guiltily with the hem of his Sonic the Hedgehog shirt. 

Sukuna hums in acknowledgement.

Yuji continues to fiddle with his shirt before hopefully asking if Sukuna is inviting you to Christmas dinner. His eyes are wide and full of optimism as he takes a step towards Sukuna.

“She’s probably spendin’ Christmas with her family,” he replies mildly, reaching up to scratch his jaw.

“But we do dinner on Christmas Eve anyway,” he points out, a tradition started to make sure they could include Uraume.

Sukuna sighs, clicking on the reply button to your email as he mutters out a “fine.” Yuji jogs over to him and leaps up onto Sukuna’s bed, crawling to his side to watch as he types out an email to you. Sukuna huffs, grimacing at his little brother before typing out a message to you.

sukuna.r@gmail.com - Saturday, 1:08 PM

got christmas plans?

“That’s it?”

Sukuna’s brow furrows. “What’s wrong with that?” He grumbles, the full pain of his headache beginning to return at the judgment from the five-year-old.

“Ask her to come over!” Yuji insists.

Frowning, Sukuna playfully shoves Yuji’s face away from his screen. “Go finish decorating with your brother,” he huffs, watching the giggly kid hop off the bed with a bright expression. “If, and I mean if she’s free, I’ll ask. Got it?”

Yuji nods, running towards the door excitedly before pausing. “Oh! Can we also invite-”

Sukuna sighs as he begins rattling off a couple of Choso’s friends, as well as his own from Kindergarten.

He’s definitely in over his head this year.

–

With one final piece of tape, you secure a red ribbon over a small green box, setting it alongside two bigger, more slender boxes. One for Sukuna, and one for each of the boys.

Piling the gifts into a bag, you set them at the door and finish getting ready.

Your holiday plans had gone very quickly from a video call with your family and a cozy movie night alone with your laptop to a brunch with Suguru’s family, a dinner with Satoru’s, and dinner with Sukuna and the boys. Of course you appreciate Satoru and Suguru for making an effort to include you, but there’s something deeper to the idea of having Christmas dinner with Sukuna that you can’t deny.

Over the past week, you had helped pick up the kids from school a couple of times, so Sukuna had presented this as a way of ‘paying you back’, but your conversations with his little brothers had you thinking there was more to this than just paying you back. Yuji talked non-stop about Christmas movies and a big dinner and how he was beyond excited for the big day. Sukuna seemed tired at the mere concept, but Yuji was adamant that you had to be a part of it, and there’s no world where you’re willing to let down the sweet little boy.

Picking the kids up from school had also given you the opportunity to scheme with Choso about Sukuna’s gift and you’re pretty sure you nailed it.

With a final once-over of your outfit, you nod to yourself in the mirror. A cute red wool Christmas sweater hangs over your frame decorated in stitches that form the shape of reindeer and snowflakes, with a pair of black leggings adorning your legs. You make your way to the door and pull on a pair of knee-high heeled boots to complete the look, pleased with the cute and festive outfit.

When you arrive at Sukuna’s door with some fresh-baked Christmas cookies (those cute Snowman ones from Pillsbury that are to die for), and the gifts for all three brothers tucked into a bag hanging around your arm, you hit the button for their intercom and wait for a response. After a few rings, the buzzer seems to die and the door doesn’t budge. Blinking a few times, you pull out your phone to check you have the right date and time.

December 24th, 3:00 PM.

With a furrowed brow, you juggle the cookies and gifts to hit the buzzer again. Maybe they just didn’t hear it. It rings once, twice, three, four times, and you’re sure it’s about to die when static sounds over the speaker and excited screams can be heard. Not unusual, but it sounds much more chaotic than usual.

“Hello?” Choso’s voice finally sounds in the brisk afternoon winter air.

“Hey Cho, it’s me!”

He doesn’t reply, but the door buzzes as it unlocks for you to make your way up. Before you can knock, Choso pulls the door open for you with a toothy smile, his cheeks rosy.

“Hey, Cho!” You grin and take your boots off as he closes the door behind you and adjusts his absolutely adorable reindeer antlers with sparkling red and green LEDs.

You’ve hardly taken a step into the apartment when the madness of the apartment hits you, quite literally.

Yuji barrels into your leg in a hug, matching antlers to Choso’s adorning his head as he giggles and grins at you. “Merry Christmas!” He cheers, tugging you further into the apartment as you set down your gifts and cookies at the door.

Tinsel is spread across every surface below waist-level, which makes you think the boys did most of the decorating, while a small tree sits on the floor near the TV, lit with sparkling red and green lights. Garland is spread across light fixtures and the warm glow of colorful fairy lights illuminates the dining room. You hadn’t taken Sukuna as the type to decorate to the nines, but it’s heartwarming to see just how much cheer and spirit is spread throughout the otherwise fairly dark apartment.

The real shock as you’re pulled into the living space, is the sheer amount of people all crammed into the living room. Mostly kids between Yuji and Choso’s ages, and one other person who seems to be around the same age as you with snowy white hair, while Sukuna sits on the floor. Displeasure twists his every feature as his youngest brother runs back up to him and a girl around his age with short brown hair. The little boy takes a string of red garland from the girl, clambering over the tattooed man as he strings it up around his broad shoulders. A couple of boys chuckle at the sight of Sukuna decorated like a Christmas tree from where they sit playing MarioKart.

Sukuna grinds his teeth, his jaw clenched as he just barely manages to tolerate his little brother’s antics. You giggle at the sight, pulling out your phone to snap a photo of the sweet interaction, catching Sukuna’s attention finally.

“Don’t,” he hisses at you, fists clenching at his sides.

Biting your lip to conceal your smile, you hold your phone up to him, snapping a photo just in time before Sukuna’s pushing off the ground suddenly. The action of his chest and shoulders rising pulls the garland taut before it splits under the tension, falling from his frame to the dismay of the kids.

Holding your phone tight to your chest, you gasp playfully at the realization that Sukuna’s darting towards you, intent on deleting the photo. You duck quickly away from him, unable to hide your smile as you slide into the dining room where Choso and a couple of friends seem to be playing with Pokemon cards.

“Delete it,” Sukuna growls as he closes the distance between you in a few short strides. An unceremonious squeak parts your lips as he catches up to you and slips a strong arm around your middle, using his other hand to reach for your phone and hold it up to you. You push against him, but he’s not budging even an inch. The feeling of his chiseled abs pressing against your back is dizzying, and you almost forget why he has you tucked into his warmth, until he hisses out another “delete it, brat.”

“It’s so cute!” You protest, wriggling against him in an attempt to slip from his grasp.

Sukuna falters for a split second, swallowing hard as your endeavors to escape from him has your ass brushing against him just right and he prays you don’t feel his body involuntarily reacting to you as his cock twitches in his jeans. Blinking, he scrambles to think about something unpleasant to counteract the thoughts beginning to race through his mind. You twist in his grasp, and he’s reminded of what he’s doing in the first place, pulled back to the present. “It’s not fucking cute. Delete it.”

“It’ll be a good memory for Yuji and Choso!” You insist, putting your full weight against Sukuna’s arm that has you caged against him. He doesn’t move a muscle, not needing to so much as tense to keep you up, he’s just that strong.

His brow furrows as he considers your words, finally huffing as he releases you. With your full weight being supported by him just seconds ago, you barely manage to catch yourself before you go tumbling to the floor, grinning triumphantly when you find your footing.

“If that sees the light of day, I ain’t joining you for lunch anymore,” Sukuna grumbles, crossing his arms over his chest.

Standing up straight once more, you tilt your head innocently up at him. “It won’t,” you promise, tucking your phone into a pocket on the side of your leggings.

With a frown, Sukuna rounds the couch and takes a seat beside his friend with white hair cut into a bob. You follow after him, plopping down on his other side. He states your name, casting a glance between you and them. “This is Uraume,” he tells you.

Your eyes light up with recognition, grinning as you wave politely.

They return your wave with a kind smile. “I’ve heard a lot about you,” they comment with a knowing look to Sukuna that he shoots down with a scornful frown. “It’s very nice to meet you.”

“Nice to meet you too!” You grin, happy to finally be able to meet one of Sukuna’s friends. He’s slowly allowing you further into his little world, giving you a piece of him that very few get to see. Though, looking back at the door where your bag of gifts resides, it occurs to you that you had no idea there would be seven kids and three adults here, and you haven’t brought nearly enough for everyone. “Had I known you would be here, I would have brought you something for the holidays,��� you comment sheepishly.

“Did Yuji not tell you?” Sukuna arches a brow questioningly as he leans back into the couch.

You shake your head. “No, was he supposed to?” You cast a glance at the little boy wrapping the torn garland around his friend, the two giggling up a storm.

Sukuna sighs. “I figured he would have, the kid wouldn’t shut up about today and Uraume’s been a part of our holidays for a few years now.”

“It’s fine, anyway!” They pipe in, shaking their head. “I don’t need a gift and I certainly wasn’t expecting one.”

“And don’t worry about the kids. They’re all headin’ out for their own dinners soon, but Yu wanted a big Christmas this year, so…” Sukuna trails off, his gaze flitting between both brothers. You know what’s going through his mind, you can see the hollow distance resurfacing in his eyes as his mind grapples with the idea of this being their last Christmas together.

But you aren’t about to let him give up without a fight, so you snap him back to the present with a prod to his shoulder. “So, what are you cooking?”

“I’m not,” Sukuna replies, casting a glance at Uraume, who explains that every year their gift to Sukuna and the boys is a full Christmas dinner, though they replace the turkey with chicken given that they’re in college and that’s one pricey bird.

The afternoon carries on with excited laughter from the kids while you and Uraume learn about one another, while also poking fun at Sukuna, who’s relatively quiet as usual. The kids’ parents slowly begin to pick them up over the course of the evening, and Uraume occupies themself with cooking as the sun sets over the horizon. A merry glow casts over the apartment as fairy and holiday lights shine over the tinsel and shimmer along the walls.

Though not exactly Christmassy, you can also see what Sukuna meant at Gojo’s party when he mentioned his house was overrun with bead lizards. They seem to be strewn across nearly every surface as well, with tinsel tied to them like a second tail.

As the last of the kids file out, Yuji and Choso turn to the Gamecube that Sukuna has long forgotten is yours. You prefer it this way anyway, for it to get some use from the kids than to rot in your storage.

“Have you spoken to, uh, Kento?” Sukuna asks curiously over the sounds of clanking pots and utensils and video game music.

You nod. “He’s willing to help. He has something for me from my parents anyway, so he said we can meet at a cafe when he gets back and he’ll have his friend tag along.”

Sukuna raises a brow. “Does he know he’s doing me a favor, not you?”

“He does!”

“I’m sure he was thrilled to hear it,” Sukuna grumbles, slumping into the couch with his arms crossed over his chest as he stares blankly at the little tree on the floor. His gifts to the kids sit on the floor, nearly blocking the tree itself given its small stature.

“He’ll come around,” you assure him. “He hasn’t really had a chance to get to know you.”

Sukuna hums, his gaze remaining trained on the little Christmas tree. “He’s from your hometown?”

You nod. “Him and Haibara.”

“Mm.” Sukuna drums his fingers over his bicep. “Why didn’t you go home with them?”

With a tight-lipped smile, you join him in staring at the Christmas tree, suddenly finding its intrigue. “I couldn’t afford to.”

Crimson irises tear away from the tree to take in your bittersweet expression. He knows that feeling all-too-well, but it’s never occurred to him that it could be a sentiment you would share. He’s never made any assumptions that you’re rich, and although he has no clue how much or little it costs for you to get home, he did assume that wouldn’t stop you from spending Christmas with your family.

“Mm.” He supposes maybe you aren’t as different as he once thought. Perhaps you aren’t from different worlds, but rather two sides of the same coin. “‘M sorry.”

You turn your attention to him, your usual cheerful expression taking over again. Always looking on the bright side, like a ray of sunshine that seems to find its way through Sukuna’s darkness to light up his life.

He’s only known you for a couple of months, but he wonders when you became such a staple in his life, one that brings warmth to an otherwise cold and hardened man.

“It’s fine,” you assure him. “There’s always next year.” Your eyes crinkle at the corners as you regard the two boys playing Mario Party. “It’s nice to be here, anyway.”

Sukuna follows your gaze, his eyes befalling a game of Mario Party nearing the end that he fears will also end in tears if he knows anything about that game. He blinks a couple of times, taking in the thought that this is the first time in a while that his house has been so filled with life.

One year after another his holidays had diminished in size, beginning with the kids’ mother moving for a job, followed shortly by his father passing away. Along with the passing of his father, Sukuna’s mental health had followed, and what resulted was a Christmas so hollow that he struggles to remember that year, hidden deep within the carefully guarded recesses of his mind.

Yet when he needed them most, Uraume had made their way into his life and bit by bit, they had helped him pick up the pieces and find his footing. Just when he needed you most, you found your way into his life as well, though you were little more than the source of his disdain at first. He considers himself lucky that you’re so resilient when it comes to his snide demeanor, because for the first time in a long time, something occurs to Sukuna.

You and Uraume may not fill the same roles that having parents would have, but you’re both important figures in the kids’ lives and they need the positivity that you bring that Sukuna doesn’t provide. He’s aware he isn’t the best influence for two impressionable young kids, something that he wrestles with daily, but one reassurance remains a beacon when he finds himself doubting his abilities.

Your declaration that he’s their hero.

He’d never considered it before, but he sees it in the way Choso worries for him and understands, even at such a young age, that Sukuna is struggling. He sees it in the way Yuji runs to him to show him the latest basketball trick he’s learned.

So he’s gotta be doing something right.

After an extended silence, Sukuna finally finds the footing to reply to you. “We’re glad to have ya, princess.”

Uraume begins setting out dishes, requesting help as they work on the dinner’s finishing touches. The three of you work together to set the table, complete with a little candle in the center as the smell of chicken floods the apartment.

You narrowly avoid a meltdown by the looks of it as Choso is winning Mario Party by a landslide when Sukuna calls them over, asking them to shut off the TV for the night. Bounding to the table, you let the kids pile their plates high with chicken, stuffing, and potatoes, both completely avoiding anything that so much as touched vegetables. With a scowl, Sukuna reaches over to scoop some veggies onto their plates, met with a guilty frown from Choso and a groan from Yuji.

Once their plates are full, Sukuna insists that you and Uraume go first before he loads up his own plate with enough food to feed a whole family. You can only imagine what the grocery bill looks like for two growing boys and the wall of muscle that is Sukuna.

“This is all amazing, Uraume.”

They grin at your compliment, a warm blush dusting their cheeks. “Thank you.”

“Where’d you learn to cook? I know you’re in the history program with Sukuna, but I’d believe you if you said you were in the culinary program,” you continue, reveling in the flavor of the potatoes.

The shade of their reddened cheeks darkens and they chuckle lightly. “I appreciate that, but I’ll leave the culinary degree to Choso,” they smile, casting a glance at the little boy whose eyes sparkle at the mention of a culinary degree. You suppose that explains why he loves to follow you around in the kitchen so much. “I’m self-taught. I learned during our first year when I got sick of ramen and eating out.”

“I wish I had that same dedication,” you giggle, shaking your head as you go on to mention that the amount of times you’ve had eggs this week should be criminal.

Sukuna shoves his face full of food as he quietly listens to you and Uraume chat, while Yuji chimes in every so often. He can’t remember the last time he had a meal that wasn’t takeout or something he cooked mainly for the boys, who could be a bit picky, which often meant he was having the same few meals with a protein smoothie to tide him over. Apart from the leftover mac and cheese you cooked a little while ago, he thinks the last time might have been a full year ago to the day.

He doesn’t even notice that he’s smiling until you nudge him. “Doing alright, Kuna?”

He raises a brow questioningly, his mouth full of potatoes.

You smile, shaking your head. “Don’t worry about it. How’s your dinner?” You decide not to push him, your heart full when his expression eases as he sits up, leaning back in a relaxed manner.

“Fuckin’ great,” he mumbles through a bite of chicken, going back in for more immediately.

“How many times have I told you to stop swearing in front of your brothers?” Uraume scolds, a playful air to their words.

Sukuna huffs, rolling his eyes. “If I start countin’ how many times you tell me not to swear or smoke, we’ll be here all day.”

“They have a point,” you poke fun at him with a shrug.

“It’s Christmas, get off my case,” he grumbles, leaning over the table.

“Quitting smoking would be a suitable Christmas gift for me, you know,” Uraume points out with a mischievous grin.

“Your gift,” Sukuna growls, no real bite to his words as he points his fork at them, “is learnin’ how to drive. Take it or leave it.” He shoves the piece of chicken into his mouth with a scowl in their direction, grunting when Uraume laughs.

“I suppose I’ll take the driving lessons,” they sigh humorously as though they’re settling.

Sukuna’s narrowed eyes are met with laughter from the table as conversation flows naturally throughout dinner. By the end of the meal, Yuji is practically vibrating with excitement as he casts glances towards the tree where a few wrapped gifts are sitting. Even Choso seems a bit restless, shifting constantly between sitting cross-legged on his chair and kicking his feet.

The moment Sukuna’s second plate of food is clean, Yuji pipes in. “Can we open presents?”

“Let me clean up, Yu,” Sukuna sighs, pushing his hair back from his forehead. It seems a moment’s rest is too much to ask for with two eager kids awaiting presents. Splaying his hands on the table, Sukuna pushes himself to his feet, piling all of the plates onto one to carry to the kitchen.

You gather empty glasses and follow after Sukuna, setting the dishes on the counter.

“Go sit,” Sukuna mumbles without casting you a glance as he rinses off plates and loads them into the dishwasher.

“I don’t mind, really!” You insist, bounding back to the table to grab the leftover potatoes. When you spin around, you’re met with Sukuna’s chest, startling at his close proximity. He pulls the bowl of potatoes from your hand, smirking as you purse your lips.

“Sit.” With his spare hand, he presses down on your shoulder until you’re back in your seat.

Uraume stifles a laugh, exchanging a glance with you as your cheeks warm. “Every year, I cook and he cleans up afterwards,” they explain. Clearly, he intends to keep it that way, giving you a chance to get to know Uraume better.

“How long have you known each other?” You ask as Sukuna continues to clean up, gathering the leftover food into tupperware to keep in the fridge while the two kids talk amongst themselves.

They tilt their head in thought. “Around four years now, I sat beside him on the first day of History 109.” They lean back in their chair, resting their hands in their lap with a chuckle. “He drank my coffee.”

“I thought it was mine,” Sukuna groans from the kitchen.

Uraume smiles wider. “I’m not sure how you thought that. You were drinking black coffee and mine had cream and sugar.”

“I thought classes started at ten, not eight,” he huffs as he pulls more dishes from the table “I was tired.”

“I suppose you needed the caffeine more than I did,” Uraume laughs, their eyes crinkling gleefully at the corners. “But it did mean that he owed me a coffee,” they continue their explanation. “Our friends got along well, and here we are.”

“God knows Toji needed someone to keep him in line,” Sukuna mutters.

“Toji… you mentioned he got you kicked out of Gojo’s once?” You question with a tilt of your head as Sukuna clears the last of the dishes from the table.

Uraume hums. “Sounds like the right Toji. He can be a handful. We can introduce you when classes are back in.”

“I’d like tha-”

“Kunaaaa, can we open presents nowwww?” Yuji interrupts, doing his very best to remain patient.

You giggle at the poor kid, who’s just about bouncing off the walls like a ping pong ball at the rate he’s vibrating in his seat.

Sukuna sighs, shutting the last tupperware lid over the remaining vegetables. “Go wait in the living room.”

Both boys’ chairs scrape the floor as they dash into the living room, excitedly yelling about who gets to open their gifts first.

The tattooed brother watches them with mild interest, returning to the table where he leans over the edge on his hands. “Can you entertain them for a minute?” He glances between you and Uraume. You nod in unison and watch as Sukuna pulls a pack of cigarettes from his pocket. Sliding one from the pack, he balances it between his lips and opens a drawer in the kitchen, pulling out a box of matches and striking one.

His cigarette burns like a lone star in the night sky against the backdrop of the twinkling apartment. He inhales as he whips the match through the air to put it out, tossing it in the sink to cool as he waits until he’s on the balcony to exhale smoke.

Before he shuts the door, he frustratedly murmurs something about having lost his dad’s lighter. The door closes with a thud, and he leans over the balcony, his back visibly rising and falling as he sighs.

With the kids excitedly seated in front of the tree seemingly entertaining themselves, Uraume uses the opportunity to turn towards you with a more serious expression, though they remain smiling.

“I appreciate everything you’ve been doing for him. I know he won’t ask for help, but he needs it. He doesn’t seem as burnt out lately.”

You return their kind smile, nodding. “He doesn’t make it easy, but I’m trying.”

They roll their eyes, chuckling. “He certainly doesn’t, does he?” As their laughter dies down, they cast a glance at the kids. “I’m surprised he told you about his brothers though.”

Shaking your head, you blow air from your nose in a wry laugh. “He didn’t. I ran into him after he didn’t show up to work on our project.”

“Oh? In that case, I’m surprised he’s let you in at all.”

“You and me both,” you scoff, shaking your head. “I think most of our friendship has hinged on the fact that he thinks he owes me.”

“Sounds familiar,” Uraume quips, getting to their feet as Sukuna makes the motions of putting out his cigarette outside. He rolls his shoulders backwards in an effort to stretch his muscles before stepping back inside. You follow after Uraume, quickly making a motion to grab the gifts, as well as your forgotten cookies.

“Oh! I- um- brought some cookies,” you hold out the tupperware as you make your way into the living room, setting the container down on the coffee table with the bag of gifts at your feet.

“That’s so kind of you!” Uraume delights, opening the box.

“They’re nothing compared to your cooking, but they were always a tradition back home for me,” you smile to yourself, heat rising to your cheeks.

Finishing the cookie in only a couple of bites, they shake their head. “They’re delicious, and it’s still very kind of you.”

You find yourself grinning, glancing at Sukuna who hums in agreement as he takes one as well. The brothers are close behind as they practically scarf the treats down, their eyes shining.

“Alright you brats, there’s one for each of ya from me, and one to share.”

“Wait!” Choso cries out, scrambling to his feet as he runs down the hall. You watch curiously as he rounds the corner with three santa hats. Adjusting his antlers, he holds them out to you, Uraume, and his older brother, met with two ‘thank you’s, and an adamant ‘no’.

It doesn’t take a rocket scientist to figure out which of the three of you is scowling down at the hat held in his hands.

You nudge his bicep with your elbow, a gleeful smile donning your lips. “C’mon, Kuna. Just wear it for an hour. Look how excited they are.”

Sukuna follows your gaze, deep red irises flicking between the two kids before resting on the hopeful look his middle brother wears. With a sigh, he gives in to both your and his brother’s wishes, pulling the hat on over his tousled pink hair. Even with his familiar grumpy scowl, he looks surprisingly cute in the Christmas spirit.

Though you’re sure if he realized that, the hat would disappear in an instant, so you keep that secret to yourself.

“One at a time. Youngest goes first.”

Yuji scrambles excitedly with the first of his gifts, tearing at wrapping paper around a gift box that’s practically his size. Tossing the paper aside, he flips the box towards him, eyes wide at the five-year-old sized basketball. He gasps in excitement, holding it up triumphantly. “A new basketball!” He proclaims, immediately trying to tear it from the cardboard.

“Slow down, Yu. There’s one more thing in there.”

Yuji curiously peers down at his lap, now noticing the black and red material he’d missed previously. He holds it up, gaping at the realization that Sukuna’s gotten him a custom jersey with his last name scrawled in big red text across the back with his favorite team’s logo on the front.

“No WAY!” He cries out excitedly, standing up and immediately pulling it on over his t-shirt. It’s a bit big on him, but Sukuna figured it made the most sense to get him a bigger size given how fast he’d been growing. “Thank you thank you thankyouthankyou!” Yuji cries, hopping up and down excitedly.

Sukuna’s chest swells at the sight of what he hopes is a Christmas living up to his brother’s dreams while you and Uraume grin at his sides. Even by his own standards, he thinks he could enjoy Christmas if it’s like this every year.

Like a shot to his chest, his mind suddenly reminds him of the impending lawsuit, but he pushes the thought aside, subconsciously pressing his knee against yours.

You cast him a glance at the feeling of his leg knocking against yours, but you can’t make out whether he’s aware of how close you are. Your cheeks warm as you search for a meaning behind the action, but Sukuna’s mirthful expression gives nothing away about his lingering doubts. Likely thinking too much into the action, you let it go.

“Your turn, Cho.”

Sukuna points to a smaller gift wrapped as neatly as Sukuna could manage (which is to say not neatly at all) in snowflake-covered light blue wrapping paper.

Choso grabs the gift, much more timidly opening it. He pulls out a set of kid-sized knives along with a pan sized appropriately for him. “Thank you, Kuna!” He grins, testing out the weight of the pan in his hand.

“Be careful with those things,” his elder brother mutters as Choso examines the knife set. “One more thing in there for you too, Cho.”

Deep brown eyes widen and he peers down so suddenly his antlers nearly fall from his head. Sure enough, beneath some tissue paper at the bottom of the box is a black apron, also a bit big for him, with his name embroidered across the front in deep purple.

In a much more subtle show of gratefulness than his little brother, Choso holds it up with a look of wonder, running his thumb over his name. In disbelief, he too gets to his feet and throws it on over his head, tying it at the back.

Choso’s grin widens and he runs up to Sukuna, practically hopping over the coffee table in an attempt to get to him. “Thank you, Kuna,” he repeats himself again as he clings to his brother’s sweatshirt.

“Mm.” Sukuna ruffles his hair with a small smile. “Go open your last gift with your brother,” he urges. “And you two better share.”

Choso hops back towards his little brother as the two excitedly unwrap their last gift from Sukuna. Within a small box sits a copy of Sonic Advance for their Gameboy.

“No way!” Yuji proclaims excitedly, turning back to Sukuna. “You’re the best, thank you!” He cries, scrambling to his feet to hug his brother. Choso follows suit, each kid finding a place on either side of the tattooed man.

He blows a breath out through his nose, smirking as he pulls them in. In a rare moment of genuine happiness, he hugs them close. You cast a glance at Uraume, who seems just as happy to be a part of this moment with Sukuna’s little family. They may not be perfect, but they care a great deal for one another, that much is clear.

Uraume leans forward and hands the boys a card. “This is for both of you.”

“You didn’t have to get them anything,” Sukuna mumbles to his friend. “The dinner is more than enough.”

“I didn’t have to,” they agree, “but I wanted to.”

Choso tears the envelope open, reading the card out to his brother before peering down at the three papers that fall from the envelope. “Sonic the Hedgehog 3 movie tickets?” He gasps with wide eyes, looking up at Sukuna.

“Tell me the third ticket is for you,” he grumbles to Uraume as Yuji hops to his feet to hug them.

“Nope! I checked with both of your work schedules, you can make it,” they grin at him, bursting into laughter at the grimace that pulls Sukuna’s lips into a frown.

As the cheers and laughter dies down and the brothers make their way back over to the tree after hugging Uraume, you pull out two long, slender boxes and hand one to each kid.

Sukuna sighs, his brow knit tightly together as he avoids your gaze. “You didn’t have to do all this either. You do more than enough for them too.”

“It’s Christmas, Kuna. I wanted to.” You shrug. “Open them at the same time,” you instruct, watching Choso gingerly rip the paper off as Yuji is already eagerly tossing it aside. With wide eyes and gasps, they both hold up Nerf guns, a purple one for Choso and a red one for Yuji.

Sukuna groans as the two boys exchange an excited look, showing their gifts off to one another. “You’re gonna give me a damn headache, woman,” he grumbles, leaning forward on his palm with his elbow resting on his knee.

Yuji bounces to his feet, running to give you a hug as he thanks you over and over, followed shortly by Choso. You wrap your arms around them both, rubbing both of their backs softly. Adjusting your hat so it doesn’t fall off of your head as they pull back, you’re about to grab your gift for Sukuna when Choso gingerly shuffles in place in front of you.

“We- um- have something for you guys too,” he proclaims in a voice barely above a mumble. With a shy smile, he runs off to grab what you can only assume is the gift, leaving the three of you in an air of confusion.

Yuji returns first, followed shortly by Choso. Hidden in their fists are three woven friendship bracelets each. Your lips part, forming an ‘o’ as you gasp at the sight. The two boys are positively too cute.

Holding out your wrist, you watch with tear-filled eyes as Yuji’s tongue sticks out while he ties a red and white striped bracelet around your wrist. It’s the type of bracelet that isn’t coming off anytime soon, but you don’t mind one bit. You’ll treasure it for as long as it’ll stay on your wrist.

Yuji moves on to Sukuna with a red and black checkered bracelet while Choso ties a purple and blue striped bracelet around Uraume’s wrist, his face scrunched in concentration. Unbeknownst to him, Sukuna’s knee presses harder into yours, a somber look crossing his eyes for a split second as he stares down at the checkered bracelet soundly wrapped around his wrist. He swallows hard, twisting his wrist to better see the woven jewelry.

With a glance to either side, he watches with a barely-contained frown as Choso ties a purple and black checkered bracelet just below Yuji’s on his wrist, moving along to add a purple and white striped one to yours.

Both you and Uraume grin, while you obviously fight tears of joy at the simple, yet meaningful gift. Sukuna's stomach seems to twist and he forces down the bile that threatens to come up, chewing on his lower lip.

The idea that this could be the last gift he ever receives from his brothers is fresh in his mind, plaguing his thoughts like an endless nightmare. His muscles tense as he returns his gaze to the two checkered bracelets around his wrist, one much cleaner looking than the other, but that’s not what matters to him.

With a tight-lipped smile that barely masks his underlying anxieties, he’s just about to open his mouth to thank the kids when you speak up first.

“This is so sweet, you two are so talented!” You beam, eyes glassy as you continue to fight tears.

Your knee gently brushes his, a silent acknowledgment that you recognize the paralyzing distance crossing over his eyes. Your quiet offering of support doesn’t go unnoticed and Sukuna uses the opportunity to compose himself. With a sharp intake of breath, he forces a smile that reads more real than the tight-lipped one he previously wore.

“Thanks, kiddos.”

“They look wonderful,” Uraume agrees.

Returning to their gifts, the two kids distract themselves by tearing into whatever cardboard they can get their hands on in an effort to free the basketball and Nerf dart guns. As they busy themselves with their new gifts, you pull out one more box for Sukuna with a cute little bow wrapped around the gift box.

He peers down at the gift as you hold it out to him, shaking his head.

“I don’t need anything,” he grumbles, his mind still somewhat fuzzy as he grapples with the stress of the lawsuit.

“Just take it, Kuna.” You hold it out expectantly to him.

He sighs, taking the box into his hands with a glance up at your timid expression. Pulling at the ribbon, he unwraps it and slowly opens the box, his lips twitching into a frown as he picks his Type O Negative shirt up from inside the giftbox.

“My own shirt,” he comments with a sarcastic edge to his tone at what he’s sure is a joke gift, though he’s actually somewhat relieved you didn’t get him anything.

You giggle at his disdainful expression. “You’re just as bad as your brothers. Unwrap the shirt.”

His brows knit together as he slowly unwraps the shirt. Hidden between the layers of fabric is none other than his dad’s lighter, with the cap back in place, shining like the day Sukuna pulled it from his father’s belongings as though it’s been freshly polished.

His jaw subtly falls open as he drops his shirt into his lap, flipping the cap of the lighter open and watching as he turns it and the flame comes to life. He blinks a few times, his throat tightening as he turns the lighter, the ‘Itadori’ engraving no longer dull and barely visible, but full of life and a stark contrast to the rest of the metal.

Shutting the cap, he runs his tongue over his lower lip once before biting down a bit too harshly on the plush skin, a metallic tang penetrating his taste buds. He pays it no mind, finally looking up at you.

His expression is unreadable and your stomach flutters with nerves as his words seem to fail him when he opens his mouth, fiddling with the lighter.

“You fixed it?”

You nod. “I mean, a professional did, but yeah. I hope- I thought you might appreciate it after the whole lighting yourself on fire thing.” Your voice is quiet, wavering slightly. You catch a questioning gaze from Uraume, but they don’t dare interrupt the moment.

Sukuna stares down at the lighter for another moment, flipping it again. Your stomach does a flip when he rubs his face harshly and you can’t tell whether he’s frustrated with you or thankful.

He’s so damn near tears that it takes him a moment to compose himself before he lowers his hand back down the lighter. “Shit, princess,” he mutters, his throat raw with emotions that he can’t identify.

Unable to tell if that’s a good or bad reaction, you wrap your arms around yourself, tilting your head. “I hope it’s- um-” you stammer, trying to find words, but it’s not like you can undo what’s been done to the lighter, having taken a leap of faith to begin with, even if the gift was Choso-approved. “Sorry, I-”

“Shut up.” Sukuna’s tone isn’t nearly as assertive as usual as he shakes his head at the lighter, unable to meet your gaze out of fear that his eyes might be red again, though this time not from weed. “I appreciate it.”

Your brow raises and a smile finds your lips as relief washes over you. “Yeah?”

He blows a humorous breath out through his nose, nodding. “It means a lot.”

Your smile stretches to a grin that you exchange with Uraume, who seems to know the meaning behind your gift just as well as you do.

“For the record, Uraume’s still right, you should quit,” you point out, earning a sharp stare. Giggling, you nudge his shoulder playfully. “But I know what that means to you, so I thought- you know,” you shrug, thankful you got the right impression from the fact that he continued to use the lighter long after it had broken.

“You two are pains in my ass,” Sukuna huffs, shoving the lighter into his pocket as he finally finds himself back in the moment as the source of your teasing. Reaching up to scratch his chest, he leans back against the couch again. “When did you nab my lighter anyway? It disappeared on a night when I don’t think I saw ya.”

You shoot a smirk at his middle brother, who’s carefully loading foam darts into his toy gun, completely oblivious to the conversation going on between the adults.

“I see,” he hums. Your accomplice glances up as he feels three pairs of eyes on him, tilting his head curiously until Yuji grabs his attention and his impending question is long forgotten. Swallowing, Sukuna gets to his feet. “I have somethin’ for you too.”

He disappears around the corner towards his bedroom, and you’re left exchanging a glance with Uraume, who shrugs. You hadn’t expected anything from him, simply grateful to have company in the absence of your family over the holidays.

You glance back in the direction of the hall when his door clicks shut and he re-emerges, a single piece of paper held carefully in front of him. He sits between you and Uraume once more, turning to face you with a furrowed brow. “Here.”

Gingerly taking the page from him, your jaw drops at the sight. In his traditional graphite and charcoal style, an artistic rendition of you smiling at something off to the side of the page’s line of sight is scrawled across the paper. A clear amount of care has gone into capturing each of your features, deliberate shading and lines framing your complexion.

Bringing a hand up to cover your gaping mouth, you barely manage to whisper, “you… drew me?”

Sukuna’s somewhat glad you haven’t looked up at him yet, his face burning red hot as he brings a hand up to scratch the back of his neck. “You loved the project piece so much, I figured…” he trails off, staring down at the piece in your hand when he catches a glimpse of your trembling hand holding the paper.

You chew on your lip as tears prick in your eyes, butterflies threatening to burst at the seams in your stomach as your heart practically rolls over itself in your chest. Whether he returns your feelings or not, one thing is beyond clear.

Sukuna cares a great deal about you, to have poured so much time and effort into something like this, but one more thought lingers in the back of your mind. A thought that has you teetering dangerously close to spiraling into thoughts of uncertainty.

Sukuna thinks you’re beautiful. The proof is in the care that went into each stroke of his pencil and smudge of charcoal to portray you just as he sees you.

“Shit, are you…?” Sukuna mutters when he hears you sniffle, taken aback when you set the art aside and leap forward to hug him. His arms stiffen in the air as he stares blankly at the wall, uncertainty clouding his actions.

“Thank you, Kuna,” you mumble meekly, tears stinging at the edge of your tone as you do what you can to hold them back.

Silence hangs between you, interrupted only by the sounds of clicking plastic as the boys figure out their Nerf guns. Uraume smiles from behind Sukuna at the sight of their friend struggling to wrap his mind around you hugging him. It takes a moment, but gradually his muscles relax and he wraps his arms around you in return.

“Mhm.”

Your eyes flicker open, catching Uraume’s warm smile as you pull back from Sukuna, whose gaze trails to the art. Following his line of sight, you pick the piece back up and hold it gently in your lap.

“It’s gorgeous, thank you.”

He opens his mouth to reply, when a stray foam dart hits him square in the jaw and tumbles down to the ground at his feet.

“Watch it, brat,” Sukuna glowers at Yuji, whose toy gun is pointed a little too precisely at his forehead for his liking.

Unfortunately for the tattooed man, this doesn’t deter his little brother one bit.

With a plastic click, another foam dart is sent careening through the air, colliding with the man’s forearm as he lifts it to block the attack. “Brat!” He barks, getting to his feet and stepping over you. A giggle and pattering of small feet against the hardwood can be heard as Yuji skitters around the corner and out of sight.

With a sharp glare and intent to chase his brother, Sukuna stops, turning to you and bending down to your seated height. He points an accusatory finger at you, his face close enough to make your mouth go dry.

“This is your fucking fault,” he hisses, sans any malice. Despite the fire behind his glare and the accusation dripping from his tone, you spot the telltale sign that Sukuna’s having fun. His lip quirks just the tiniest bit at the corner, giving him away as he straightens and grabs the wall to send himself flying around the corner after his brother. “C’mere you little shit!” He calls.

“No swearing!” Uraume reminds him, but their reminder is met only with cacophonous laughter and the sound of foam darts hitting the wall at a near alarming pace. Yuji comes sliding around the corner, one hand tightly gripping his antlers in an effort to keep them on his head. He scrambles away from the foam darts that bounce harmlessly off the ground behind him before diving towards the couch.

You set the art in your lap on the coffee table before the youngest Itadori can clamber into your lap for protection.

The plastic sound of a gun cocking rings in the air as Sukuna points it squarely at you. He sports his usual scowl, but amusement swirls in his eyes.

“She ain’t gonna protect you, brat,” Sukuna threatens.

“You wouldn’t dare shoot us, would you?” You stick out your lower lip pleadingly, pouting as you play along.

Without missing a beat, a dart collides with your cheek.

“Ow!” You gasp in disbelief, although the dart didn’t truly hurt you at all. “Okay, so maybe you would,” you grumble, rubbing at your cheek. “Choso! Shoot him!” You point at the oldest brother.

Choso, who had previously only been watching, hesitates for a moment as he glances between you and the oldest sibling, before firing a shot at Sukuna’s arm. Sukuna’s attention is pulled to Choso, his teeth grit as he fires back a shot at the boy’s shoulder.

“Run, Yu!” You whisper to the little boy, who bounds down off the couch and into the kitchen in a fit of giggles.

Choso gets to his feet and runs into the hallway as the three brothers engage in a Nerf war, bringing a smile to both your and Uraume’s faces.

“I can’t help but feel as though you should have gotten one for Sukuna as well,” they laugh.

You settle into the center of the couch where Sukuna had been seated, laughing alongside them. “Seems like it.” Turning your attention towards them, you shake your head. “I’ll be honest, I thought Nerf guns would annoy him.”

“Oh, they will. I give it a week,” Uraume pointedly nods and you find yourself laughing alongside them again.

“A week is too generous.”

“A day, perhaps?” They laugh.

As the air between you settles, warmth washes over you. You’ve seen small moments like this in the apartment, ones where the three brothers are all smiles and laughter, even Sukuna, but this one seems different somehow. Less fleeting, as though the burden and weight of Sukuna’s responsibilities aren’t bearing down quite as hard on him right now, even if it’s only for a night.

You don’t believe in miracles, and certainly not Christmas miracles, but if they existed, you think this is what it would look like.

“I don’t think I’ve ever seen him like this before.”

You turn your head towards Uraume, tilting your head. “Never?”

They take a moment to contemplate it before shaking their head, their lips pressing into a thin line. “He’s been playing the role of parent so long that I think he sometimes forgets he’s their brother.”

A pang of sadness floods you as a stray dart flies across the kitchen, clanking as it hits a glass that didn’t fit in the dishwasher before it falls to the floor. You’ve seen glimpses here and there of the version of Sukuna that gets to be just a brother and student, it’s hard to believe it’s a side of him that Uraume’s never seen.

“You know,” they comment, setting their elbow along the back of the couch as they lean on their palm, “he seems a lot more relaxed these days. Is that your doing?”

“I guess, maybe,” you shrug. “I’ve been helping take care of his brothers here and there.”

They smile. “I’m glad he has another reliable person to lean on.”

Heat crawls up to your cheeks, but before you can reply, Sukuna trudges into the living room and slumps into the couch with a huff.

“You know, suddenly the Sonic movie doesn’t seem so bad,” he grumbles with a sly look in your direction.

You roll your eyes playfully, nudging his knee with your own. “Oh, don’t act like you aren’t having fun.”

He doesn’t reply, reaching up to pull his Santa hat off and set it aside, running a hand through his hair. He lets out a breath, leaning his head back on the couch. There’s a sense of calm to the silence held between the three of you that Sukuna’s grateful for. A certain understanding that even if only for a moment, he needs this escape.

“Thanks. Both of you.” In an uncharacteristically serious tone, he folds his arms over his chest, relaxing into the couch as he spreads his legs in typical man fashion. “I think Yuji got what he wanted.”

There’s an undertone to his words that you catch, one that gives away what he’s thinking, but before he can slip into a distant world of worries, you set a comforting hand on his bicep. His eyes flicker down to your hand, his expression unreadable.

“Merry Christmas, Sukuna. You too, Uraume.”

He blows air through his nose in a wry laugh, his expression relaxed as your hand drops back to your side. Carefully moving the art of you aside, he kicks his feet up on the coffee table.

“Merry Christmas.”

With a content sigh, Uraume gets to their feet. “I think it’s time I head out. I have an early breakfast tomorrow.”

“Oh! So do I,” you follow suit, beginning to gather your things. “Do you need a ride?” You ask, having taken note of the fact that Sukuna’s gift to them was driving lessons.

“That would be great,” they reply with a smile as you both begin gathering your things. Sukuna calls the kids over to say goodbye before you leave as you pull your coat over your Christmas sweater.

Yuji thanks you both, adorably referring to Uraume as ‘Rume’ as he hugs them, before hugging you. Choso follows suit, both pairs of auburn eyes shining brilliantly as they stand at Sukuna’s feet.

“Thank you for the bracelets,” you grin, kneeling down to Yuji and Choso’s level. They both have three matching woven bracelets on each of their wrists in true friendship bracelet fashion, and quite honestly you could cry at how sweet that is.

Yuji leans in to hug you again, pulling back with a bounce to his step as he cries out “Merry Christmas!”

Choso repeats the merriment more quietly, waving at you both.

“Don’t forget your cookies,” Sukuna hands you the tupperware, but you shake your head.

“If I eat nineteen cookies on my own, I’ll be sick,” you giggle. “Let these two have them.”

Yuji excitedly rocks forwards and backwards on his feet at the prospect of having nineteen cookies that his oldest brother is almost guaranteed to not want.

Sukuna sighs, grimacing as his hand falls back to his side when you refuse the cookies, but he keeps his mouth shut.

It’s Christmas, he supposes his brothers can have some cookies, so he relents.

“Got your gift?”

You nod, unable to help the shy grin on your lips as you hold up the bag that the art is safely sitting at the bottom of.

“Good. Lemme know when you’re both home.”

“I’ll email you,” you confirm.

“Get a phone, Sukuna,” Uraume scolds, only to be met with a sneer as Sukuna’s lip curls in irritation.

“Bite me,” is all he replies, unwilling to admit that he needs to save for a lawyer before he can save for a phone.

He can worry about a phone once this is all over. For now, it’s Christmas, and he wants to put whatever focus he can into granting Yuji the only thing he actually asked for this year.

A big Christmas.

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❦ a/n ; i know i'm a bit late for the holidays and i'm sure many people will be reading this outside of that time period anyway, but i could nawwwt resist giving them a warm and cozy lil holiday together <3 not sure what happened but when it hit 10k words i figured i'd just make this a full chapter. aaaanyways i hope you all enjoyed the sweet fluffy glimpse into their family christmas because i have some angsty plans coming up 😶 forgive me!! as always, thank you for the love and support <33

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writing & format © starmapz. art © 3-aem. dividers © adornedwithlight & cafekitsune

[nereidprinc3ss]

weber's law

in which spencer reid comforts fem!reader when she's having a panic attack at the rossi mansion

fluff warnings/tags: panic attack lol, spencer is really cute and sweet my little perfect cutie pie angel baby, classic spencer info dumps bc they're pretty much his love language, established relationship, cheesy and sweet at the end a/n: this one is for my queens with panic disorders who are triggered by literally nothing and everything i see you have this ilysm

When Spencer had invited you to a small get-together at Rossi’s, you’d imagined a small get-together at Rossi’s. 

And maybe that makes you a complete idiot. 

Or maybe Spencer is just so used to FBI work functions that to him, this really is small.

But now you’re sitting on an expensive couch in a very nice house, and you’re surrounded by FBI agents who are all milling around and talking and laughing, and you’re worried maybe your outfit doesn’t look as nice on you as you’d thought it did, and you keep having very vivid visions of spilling your drink all over a furry throw rug that probably costs more than your rent does. 

Music that could reasonably be considered relaxing or at the very least not objectionable plays over the sound system throughout the whole house and thus is inescapable—not that you’d get up from the couch even if you could, because Spencer is sitting to your right and he has his hand on your thigh and it’s the only thing that has until this point been keeping you from a full blown panic attack.

Maybe that makes you a complete idiot, too.

Regardless, you try to focus on nothing but the weight of his hand as it travels slowly up and down from knee to hip over the jeans you’re not so sure about, and the feeling of your breath coming and going, as slow as you can possibly summon it without passing out. 

Spencer is laughing at something JJ is saying as she stands next to the couch with Will and you really like JJ but her voice seems so loud right now, and nothing is going particularly wrong but everything feels so, so wrong it’s scary. 

All the buzzing tension in your body telling you to run away because you’re unsafe and at the same time locking you into place builds until you have to express it somehow. So you revert to an old habit—bouncing your leg rapidly like a rabbit thumping its foot. It’s not entirely conscious, but it feels better than being completely still. That is, until Spencer’s hand strays inward and cups just above your inner knee, where he begins fanning his thumb back and forth over the fabric. 

“What’s this?” he murmurs, head angled toward you and voice low enough to not draw attention. You force yourself to plant your heel to the ground even though it worsens the feeling of gears crunching in your chest. 

“Nothing. Sorry.”

That gets his attention. 

Because of course it does. He’s always telling you to stop saying sorry so often. 

His tone solidifies, still quiet but committed to this conversation now and no longer the whispery apparition of a quick aside. 

“Why are you sorry?” 

“I don’t know, it wasn’t—it’s nothing.”

You barely avoid apologizing again. 

For a moment he doesn’t speak, just watches you—and you make the mistake of raising your gaze to meet his. He has that curious, analytical look about him, concern tightening his eyes and knitting his brow. He’s doing that annoying mind-reading thing again, and as soon as he actually sees your eyes, he’s figured you out. 

“Do you want to go outside for a minute? Get some air?”

After examining his face for any clues that he’d rather stay in here, (not that you’d really know what to look for), you nod hesitantly. Spencer mirrors your nod and stands, holding out his hand for you to take as you follow suit after setting your drink on a side table (without spilling.)

JJ is now wrapped up in conversation with another agent and the two of you manage to abscond without attracting unwanted attention, which makes you feel slightly better as Spencer leads you deftly through rooms with high-vaulted ceilings and big windows and heavy, expensive looking oak furniture. It seems like you’ve been wandering through a maze when you arrive to a quieter part of the house and he opens a french door for you—which leads out onto an empty patio. 

A cool breeze immediately sinks into your skin, and your nervous system is so hyper-alert that it gives you chills. Spencer notices the way you shiver and steps closer after closing the door behind him, his hand finding the small of your back immediately. 

“You okay?” he asks, intentionally avoiding impeding your view of the sweeping backyard and the trees beyond. Sometimes focusing on something stationary is less overwhelming, but they’re so tall they seem imposing. Threatening, even. 

But then again, everything feels threatening right now. 

“Yeah. I’m fine.”

Spencer seems unconvinced by your monotone—when you glance over at him he’s still watching you like you’re a puzzle to be solved. 

“Are you sure? You can tell me if you’re not.”

“Why are you so convinced something is wrong?” you laugh, but it comes out too manic. You cross your arms. He looks pointedly at the motion. 

“For starters, that. Often times crossing your arms is a subconscious way of comforting yourself when you feel defensive or threatened. And you could say it’s because you’re cold, but—” he pauses, reaching out to touch your cheek. “I can feel how hot your face is, and you shivered when we came outside even though it’s 71 degrees because your nervous system is overreacting to external stimuli. The leg-bouncing is also often indicative of an activated parasympathetic nervous system. Is me touching you okay?”

Again, you nod—unsure how to deflect when he calls you out so efficiently. 

Spencer’s hand slides down to just beneath your jaw, where he rests two fingers. Each second that passes has him looking progressively more worried. You wish you weren’t quite so catatonic—the fairy lights hanging from the pergola shine through his hair and make him glow so appealingly you want to kiss his cheek. 

“Your heart rate is really high, honey.”

That would be due to the sense of impending doom. Thanks for pointing it out.

But you’ve lost your words, and along with them has gone your sense of humor. All you can manage for a 30 second span is a meaningless shake of your head as you avert your eyes, staring at the sprawling carpet of blue-green grass soaked in night as each blade doubles with your tears. 

“I think I’m dying,” you finally croak.

“Technically, we all are. Very slowly.”

Ah. There’s that social tact he’s so well known for. 

“Spencer.”

“Right,” he kisses your cheek as you stare up at him, affronted, and pulls you into his chest. “Sorry. I was actually trying to be helpful. Changes in brain chemistry and hormonal activity associated with panic attacks change your perception of time and make things feel really fast which can contribute to feelings of anxiety. But in reality time is moving just the same as it always is. One second is always one second. Sometimes remembering that helps me to slow down. Not literally, of course. My gravitational pull isn’t great enough to have any discernible effect on the passage of time.”

You sniff, pressing your cheek to his tie. His words make your head spin, seeing as you hadn't been prepared for a lecture in psychophysics—but it spins in the opposite direction than it had been going previously. It's nice.

“Change your perception of time?”

“Weber’s law of perception. Stimulus sensitivity will increase proportionally with increased stimulus intensity. You’re only perceiving time to be going faster because your cortisol and adrenaline levels are making you hyper-vigilant and sensitive to all the markers of time passing.”

“Like what?”

Spencer hums, the bass of it a comforting resonance against your ear, and strokes your hair unhurriedly. 

“Like… your internal clock. Your body measures time with your heartbeat, so when your heart rate increases, time seems to go faster. Also environmental cues, which lead you to understand that the world is not stagnant and thus is not frozen in time. Like the sound of the wind chimes…” he pauses, long enough for you to realize that indeed, you can hear the gentle, sonorous ringing and tinkling of steel chimes bouncing against each other. “And the wind itself, which is coming all the way from the Gulf of Mexico. Some studies actually suggest that wind direction can affect your energy levels and mood.”

It’s a gentle breeze more than it is full-blown wind. It feels cool against your hot skin. 

Spencer’s hand on the back of your head, still rhythmically smoothing your hair, seems to slow down the passage of time as well. You focus on that, and the sound of the wind chimes and the breeze on your skin for a few minutes, until your breathing and your heart rate slow and soon you regain your footing in the temporal dimension, exactly sure of where you stand on Rossi’s patio and in your boyfriend’s arms. 

“You tricked me into doing a grounding exercise,” you mumble into Spencer’s jacket. 

“I did not trick you,” he defends, voice quiet to match yours. “I just wanted to make you feel better. Did it work?”

You pull away from him and he lets you, watching on as you sniffle and wipe your tears on your sleeves. 

“Yeah, it did. Thank you.”

For a moment, neither of you speak as you gather yourself. He leads you by the hand to a cushioned hanging bench at the end of the patio, taking a seat next to you and gently rocking the swing. 

“Do you know what triggered that?” Spencer asks, over the gentle creaking sound. You shrug, observing the dance of the fireflies in the grass. 

“Nothing. Sometimes I just feel like everything’s wrong and scary but I didn’t want to tell you and ruin your night.”

“Hey,” Spencer murmurs, pulling you into him with an arm around your shoulder. “You are not ruining my night. I don’t want you to worry about that.”

“But all your friends and coworkers are inside, and you’re out here with me.”

He angles his head down toward you and you look up to meet his eyes, even warmer than the sticky summer night. 

“I am. Do you know why?”

“Because I suck,” you sniffle, more hot tears rolling down your cheeks as you attempt to look away. But Spencer’s not having it. He encourages you to sit up again so you can look at him properly, before wiping tears away gently with his thumb. When he speaks, it’s in soft, soothing tones. 

“No. I’m out here because if all my friends were inside having fun, and you were outside having a panic attack, I would choose you every time.”

You manage a laugh through the crying. 

“I don’t know if that’s healthy.”

“Whether or not it’s healthy is an entirely different discussion,” Spencer smiles wryly, before it melts into something softer and more sincere. “All that matters is that it’s true.”

For a while after that, you simply lay your head on his shoulder. Spencer controls the speed of the swing with his much-longer legs, kissing your head and rubbing your arm as you admire the expanse of Rossi’s lush yard bathed in moonlight and the black silhouette of the forest beyond. 

Eventually, Spencer speaks again, likely to make sure you’re not spiraling alone in your head. 

“Can I tell you an extremely classified secret that I've been trying really hard to keep to myself for three days?” he asks, and the mischievous edge to his voice catches your attention. You hum in assent, already wondering what kind of information Spencer would have a hard time keeping to himself. It could be anything. 

“Anderson is sleeping with Childers from Operational Tech.”

“What?”

Despite not working for the FBI yourself, Spencer and Penelope have you so filled in on the drama that you know exactly why that’s shocking. 

You pick your head up to look at him like do not fuck with me right now. 

His eyes sparkle as he nods.

“Yep.”

“Didn’t you tell me Childers was dating that girl in sex crimes?”

Spencer raises his eyebrows. The corner of his mouth twitches. You gasp. 

“No! What? Does Anderson know?”

“I don’t know. I certainly didn’t want to be the one to tell him.”

“Wait—Anderson told you this?”

“Yeah!” He laughs incredulously at your complete disbelief. “People tell me things! I’m an excellent confidant!”

“If you’re relaying all of this information to me then you’re a terrible confidant,” you chuckle, still watery—but feeling light years better. 

Spencer brushes your hair away from your face fondly, leaning a fraction of an inch closer. 

“You don’t count. Telling you secrets is basically the same as keeping them to myself.”

“Basically,” you tease, angling your head up by a few degrees in invitation. Spencer says nothing, does nothing for a long moment—just studies you with soft eyes, continues stroking your cheek. When he takes too long to kiss you, you get impatient. “I’m still kinda anxious, you know.”

He smiles knowingly.  

“Yeah?”

“Mhm,” you nod, looking pointedly at his lips. “You should kiss me better.”

“I think that would take more than just one kiss,” he murmurs through a smile, leaning ever closer until your noses are bumping. “I think I would have to devote several hours to that. Maybe even a whole day.”

“How does tomorrow look for you?” 

He’s laughing as he finally presses his lips to yours. The kiss is sweet and lingering. 

“For you? It’s wide open.”

[ambrosiagoldfish]

Can you write more Adam fics plz there so freaking good

Benefit of the Doubt PT.2

Adam x 3rd Spouse! Reader

Viewer discretion is advised

Warnings: Hurt/Comfort, Fluff to Angst to comfort, General Adam TW’s, Reader lowkey-highkey has a complex about being loved, Panic attack (I’m not even sure if this is correct term or not), Adam is afraid of heights (makes sense in story) This is set way before the show, and Gn! Reader (Y/n is once again not used lol)

Part 1 Part 3 Part 4

Request Box: Open

Word count: 3136

A/N: Hi! I’d like to Thank you all for the love and support on Part 1! It means a lot that you all enjoyed it as I loved writing it! I’d also like to apologize for this being a week late, I honestly had 0 idea on how to start this one and then a bunch of stuff in my life happened, so it was a mess.

So as an apology I tried to make this one longer than the first! (I seemed to go a little overboard but it’s fine)

Anyways I hope you all enjoy part 2 to ‘Benefit of the doubt’ and as always, if you do, please tell me if want another part in replies/requests/DM’s!

Proofread but of course could have missed something

Tags: @tired-of-life-86

To think love could feel this good.

You were made for it, to give it, receive it… You’ve waited your entire existence for this love, This closeness. It doesn’t even feel real now, even as you’re walking down the golden lined streets of heaven with his arm wrapped around you, all while you’ve been showing him around. The best places to eat, entertainment, or just a nice park. You made sure to show him all of it.

He kept his wings tucked to his sides, the gold contrasting with the white of his robe. The feathers at first glance looked sharp, but now, being so close to him, you could see each of them individually and how soft they must be.

“Hey Sweetcheeks, my eyes are up here”

You jump slightly “Sorry… Adam.” You avert your eyes away from him and focus them in front of you.

Adam laughed “I didn’t say you had to fuxkin’ to stop”

His wings truly were beautiful. It was hard to keep your eyes off them. Adam had only got to heaven recently, it made you wonder if he had the chance to use them yet. You remember when you were first created, wings took forever to get used to. You crashed and fell so many times before you figured out how to use them

Properly.

“Ok seriously, you keep staring, what the fxck is up with you?”

“It’s nothing, just…. Have you tried out your wings yet?”

“Uh, yeah totally, they’re rad as hell” Adam’s voice drifted off, the LED eyes of his mask looking away from you as you both walked. Was he… lying? Why would he lie?

You quickly walked in front of Adam, leaving his warm embrace, gently you took his hands as your wings picked you off the ground. The gust of wind with each flap softly blew around you.

“Well, come on, it will be faster than walking.” Your voice was soft and airy. Slowly, so very slowly, you lifted yourself higher from the ground, Adam’s hands locked firmly in yours, as he was pulled with you in the air.

“W-Wait a- shit- Wait a- motherfuxking second“ Adam yelled strand after strand of curses as you both lifted further and further into the air. His body flailed and his legs kicked against nothing. You pull him to you, his arms quickly snake around your waist, holding on for his dear After-life.

“Adam… did you lie to me?” Your voice was still so soft, so calm, so sweet.

“Fuck- yes I lied, I’m sorry, so put me the fuck down you crazy asshole-“ Vulgar as ever, his voice had fear in it, the LED eyes were forced shut and his grip around you was getting tighter and tighter.

Your arms wrapped around Adam’s head as you laid back, letting The wind breeze from the air pull and push you along its path with your wings soaring through the clouds..

“Adam, it’s ok, I promise you’re fine, all you have to do is open your eyes.”

You pet the back of his neck trying to sooth him which seemed to work after a few seconds. Adam didn’t want to, he really didn’t want to open his eyes. But the longer he kept them close, the more you would whisper soft words of encouragement to him. Eventually, his eyes slowly but surely opened.

“See? There is nothing to be scared of. I’ve got you.”

You hold him closer in your embrace. Adam looked below, the white vastness of heaven’s clouds beneath you both felt unreal, but as amazing a sight it was, Adam’s grip on you didn’t loosen.

“So… I’m guessing you don’t know how to fly yet?” You laugh a little, rubbing a spot on his back, just between his wings comfortingly.

Adam huffed and looked away “oh! I couldn’t fxcking see that!”

You held him close to you. The embrace seemed never ending, and you loved every second of it. Feeling the warmth of his plump body next to you was like a dream come true.

“Here let me just…”

You moved your hands slowly down his arms, caressing the soft flesh as they moved to eventually be at his hands behind you. You began to leisurely undo the grip he had around you.

“What do you think you're doing-“

“Shhh, relax, just trust me, ok?”

With each finger being removed from you, the grip lessened bit by bit, until eventually his hands were fully in yours. Your face leaned closer to his,

“Come on, just give your wings a good flap, trust me.”

“Ugh…. Fine but I swear to god if you let go-“

“I won’t.” Your voice was firm, yet still remained reassuring.

Adam didn’t want to do this. He really didn’t want to. But what other choice did he have? He gruffs and extends his wings from his body. The wind brushed and tickled at his feathers. The way the light hit them caused a glare of gold to be cast from them, enveloping you both. Then, he gave two hard flaps of his wings, he lifted up slightly before quickly falling back to where he was.

“There you go! Now keep doing that.”

Adam continued, his wings slowly pushing him up and up before being sent back down when he stopped. This repeated for a few minutes until he finally got a grip on it. The entire time, you were laughing. Pure unadulterated laughs of joy.

Truly, to think love could feel this good?

“See? You're a natural!”

“Of course I am! I’m the Original Dick, obviously I’d… be good at this… flying… shit.” With all the parading he was doing he kept forgetting to use his wings causing him to fall. ‘A natural’ may have been an overstatement on your part, but hey? At least he hasn’t fallen flat on his face yet!

Gently, you led him through air, giving him reassurance every few feet you flew, never letting go. Seconds turned to minutes, minutes to hours. Before you knew it a brisk orange sunset encased you both with its hue. That’s when you realized just how long you both had been flying.

“You must be tired with sightseeing all day… I think it’s time we go home and rest, yeah?”

“Home?” Adam’s voice sounded for a moment genuinely confused. Had he not been told he’d have a place to live in heaven? As much respect you had for Sera, you’ll have to file a complaint to avoid this with future souls.

You gripped his hand and opened your wings letting the wind lead you through the clouds and above the city. The angels below look like ants at the height you both were. It was peaceful, the flight back home. But it did seem… off? So… quiet? You couldn’t put it together, at least not at the moment, But Adam hadn’t spoken a word since you both left.

Adam, while yes, he was initially confused, it made sense to him, why wouldn’t heaven have a place for its people, a place for each of them to relax, to feel safe, happy, at home.

Home was such a weird word for Adam. Has he ever felt like a place was his ‘home’? The closest thing to it was the Garden of Eden but even that proved to be anything but a home for him. Ever since that snake entered his garden.

No. He can’t think about that now. He doesn’t want to have to think about that again. But oh-do thoughts love to worm their way back into your mind when you least want them to. He’s snaps out of his thoughts when your voice picks up

“Ok, we’re here! Just get yourself settled in and I’ll go make us something to eat. I didn't really know what food you’d like so I mainly just have junk food… I hope that's ok.”

Adam nods his head nonchalantly

You smile, waking him over to the small, plush couch in the living room and handing him a blanket and some pillows. Telling him to wait a second as you fetch some food, leaving him alone.

Adam thought your house seemed welcoming enough, ‘well… our house’ Adam thought. The living room was dark aside from a few luminous lights around the room as well as the small blue gleam from the windows from the night sky.

The couch was comfortable and the pillows just as much. And the blanket you gave him was soft and warm. This really was heaven, huh?

His thoughts are, once again, interrupted by your voice, “Ok here we go, I’ve got snacks and some soda” you say, handing him some of the many food you ravaged from your fridge and sitting beside him, wrapping yourself in the shared blanket.

Grabbing the remote lying next to you, you flick on the TV flipping through the channel before ending on a cheesy sitcom, you keep the volume low wanting to enjoy any conversation with Adam. Except… he never started one. So that’s what felt off.

The entire time you flew back home, got snacks and found something to watch. He hadn't said a word. You may not have known him long but even you had already picked up that he was an advid talker in a conversation.

“Is… everything ok Adam?” You whispered, not want to scare him with your random words.

“What kind of question is that, I’m fxcking fine… I’m fine.” His voice trailed off at the end almost getting as quiet as yours.

“Are you sure cause-“

“I said I’m fuxking fine!” His voice roared through the dark room. Gritty and callous, but you could tell it was meant to hide something. Something he didn’t want you to see.

“I’m sorry…” you paused. What did you want to say from here? What could you say? You took a deep breath and tried to continue. “I… I know I said this earlier… when Sera left.”

Adam’s LED mask looked away from you half shut eyes and a frown forming a scowl on it, but still he let you continue.

“But I’m going to say it again anyways cause… I mean it. I’m really happy to have you here. To finally have you home” you place your arm around Adam’s back rubbing it soothingly as let your head slowly lax onto him, gently cuddling close to him.

That word again… home. That’s all he could think about ever since he first heard you say it. Why? Why couldn’t he get it out of his head? His breathing was becoming unsteady with each new thought and image his brain made. Lilith and Eve, they were made to be apart of his home, for him to be apart of their homes. So why? Why did it end that way?

Suddenly Adam leap from the couch as fast as he could, the shear force knocking you to the other side of the couch, sending the food to scatter and drinks to spill to the floor.

“Adam!?” Your voice was frightened at the sudden movement. Adam looked just as frightened as you, at least from what you could tell through the LED mask. He suddenly began running, where? he didn’t know, the rooms in the house looked the same. But all he knew is that he needed to be away from you. You followed quickly behind him and pleaded for him to tell you what was wrong, but eventually he ran into a room and locked the door.

He looked around, already out of breath. He was in a bathroom. He felt his knees give out under him as he tried to slowly sit down by the tub. His breath heavy, it was hard to breathe, this stupid mask. He needed it off. But just as he went to do so,

*rattle rattle rattle*

The doorknob began to move followed by frantic knocking on the door.

“Adam! Are you ok?!” Your voice pleaded through the wood of the door.

“Fuxk- I'm fine! How many times do I have to tell you that shit” his voice cracked a few times followed by a strand of curses leaving his lips.

Home. The word repeated like a mantra in his head. Like it was mocking him. Was he not meant to have a place he called a home? To have someone to return to, who would tell him “welcome back!” Without even being told to?

Lilith hated him, Eve betrayed and hurt him like no one else before, ever. They were made to be with him, one was literally made to be his other half. The garden, his home, was taken from him because of something, someone he couldn’t control. it all comes back to him. That albino snake in the grass.

Lucifer, ‘The dreamer’… was this some sort of game to him? To toy with his emotions, treat him like some kind of plaything to mess with, to screw over? What kind of life was it? To have every opportunity and opening be broken down by him, And Adam being powerless to stop it?

“Adam! Please open the door!” Your voice was even more frantic now, knocking every few seconds before it quickly quieted down. Your body slumped against the door.

“Adam… I’m sorry if I hurt you or… or if I was going too fast… I didn't mean to… I’m so sorry…” your breath hitched with tears.

And then there was you.

You have been nothing but kind to him since you met him. You showed him around heaven, taught him how to fly and welcomed him home without having being told to. You were so different. So, so very different. Adam figure that out a while ago now. But in reality, it’s exactly why he was terrified.

To have someone who loves him so... unconditionally.

*click*

The sound of the door unlocking drew your attention and was followed by it slowly opening from Adam on the other side, still on the floor.

“Adam!” Your voice was low, already tired from crying. You crawled your way toward him before stopping in front of him, tears still falling from your face, “I’m sorry Adam, I’m sorry-“ you were cut off by a quick movement.

Warmth enveloped you, clouding your senses as a soft weight laid onto you. Arms wrapped their way around you in an embrace.

“Shit- it's not your fault, it was never your fault…” Adam’s voice was surprisingly soft, a stark contrast to his regular tone. Sincerity evident with each word. All you could do was hide into his large frame and cry at the words.

Adam was never good at comforting people. He himself was never comforted, so the concept was more than a bit foreign to him. But even still, he tried. Slowly he helped you both up from the bathroom floor and made your way back to the couch.

The floor was covered in the discarded food you both left behind. The spilled soda is now dried and sticky. Crumbs everywhere.

“Here.. let me get a mop and broom-“

“No just sit down, I’ll clean up the shit I made” you lay down on the couch and watched as Adam swept and mopped the mess from the floor. The entire time the silence hung in the air by a thread. Neither of you wanting to be the one to snap the string and speak.

Finally Adam got done cleaning the mess and made his way to the couch. He sat down and gestured for you to come closer. Crawling over to him, he wrapped the blanket around you both allowing you to snuggle into him.

“Do…” your voice barely audible “Do you want to talk about it?”

Adam looked hesitant but nodded.

“You know about everything, right? About… what all happened in Eden?

You nod against his chest content on listening.

“When… When Lilith left me, I thought I didn't care as much as I did. I thought she was a bitch and that was that. And it didn’t help that as soon as she left, I got Eve…”

He paused

“Then, when I found out about that shit between Eve and Lucifer… I didn’t care then either, but I didn’t understand why…” his voice hitched “but when I ate that damn apple… I realized how hurt I should have been. All the concepts of right and wrong, good and evil, learning all of it through that fruit, I realized one shitty truth… that the one I loved betrayed me.”

You hugged him tighter softly, your hands caressed his stomach as some form of comfort before he continued.

“For the same person- Both of them for that snake…”

“Adam… I’m so sorry you had to go through that.”

“And that’s why… I’m scared. Scared that I will fuxk up again and get… attached to you. Because every. single. time. He ruins it. And I don't want to see that happen with you.”

Your heart ached for him, the saddening look of his LED mask as he talked only furthered your emotions. Slowly your hands made their way to his face, he looks at you confused, your fingertips crept under the mask before his hand shot up and held your wrist slightly, carefully not holding it too tight.

“Sorry fuck- I’m.. I’m not ready.”

You smile and nod understanding “Adam. I love you… with all of my heart. And I would never do what those two done to you. “

Adam thought for a moment deciding what to say.

“Promise?” was all he could think of, his voice, mind, and body were all too tired to speak more about it.

You slowly remove your hands from his mask, instead taking one of his hands into yours.

“I promise, I would never betray you, let alone talk to that man” ever-so lightly, a soft golden glow burned between yours and Adam’s hands, the gold flame was warm and comforting to both of you as it rose and grew in strength.

From the flame, a string wrapped and warped itself around both yours and Adam’s pinky fingers. The string tightened and loosened as it moved, before finally melting away leaving only two solid gold rings behind, One on Adam’s finger and the other on yours.

“What the hell was that?” Adam’s voice was filled with bewilderment

“A deal- or I guess a promise. In this case”

“Shit, You didn’t have to do that-“ this time it was your turn to interrupt him. You bring Adam’s hand to your lips, and give a kiss on his newly formed ring before lying down and cuddling into Adam.

“I know.”

For once in his life, Adam felt at ease with love. How easy it was to fall for you.

Is this what home feels like?

[antinousletmehit]

˚₊‧꒰ა Chapter 18 ໒꒱ ‧₊˚

୨୧┇pairing: Telemachus x reader

୨୧┇warnings: panic attacks and descriptions of bruises and etc

────୨ৎ──── ────୨ৎ──── ───

Y/N staggered through the hallways, trying to hold back sobs. She had nothing, no one. She was utterly alone. Telemachus was away at sea, Antinous hated her, the suitors had resorted to mocking and humiliating her. For the first time in years, she felt powerless and weak. She racked her brain with who to go to. The servants hated her and there isn’t a suitor in the castle who truly cares about her. Telamachus’s words rang through her head.

“And if you need someone..go to my mother. Knock on her door 4 times.”

Penelope.

There was no chance the woman no less than despised her. She had humiliated her, humiliated her son and his honor, and was the sister of the most awful suitor in the palace. But what did she have to lose? She couldn't take this alone any longer. She crawled up the stairs to Penelope’s room, her body aching with every step. She didn’t even want to know how disheveled she appeared. When she reached the correct floor, she moved through the corridor, not caring how messy her steps echoed through the palace. She stood in front of Penelope’s door, staring at it like she was walking into death itself. She couldn’t bring herself to knock on the door.

“Why would she help me? After everything I’ve done?”

She debated walking away. Going back to her room feeling empty. For some reason, she didn’t turn away but instead lifted her hand to the wooden door.

Knock, Knock, Knock, Knock

The queen opened the door, her tone sharp, “Y/N.” Her voice then fell off when she saw the state she was in. Her messy hair and slumped posture. The bruise forming on her eye and the blood trickling from her lip. The tears in her eyes were still flowing and staining her cheeks.

“Come in, come in.” Penelope quietly said, ushering her inside. She put her hands on the young girl’s shoulders and sat her down in a wooden chair. Penelope looked horrified as she examined the girl's face.

“What happened Y/N?” Penelope breathed out, running to grab a rag and some water. Pandora desperately tried to swallow the tears that threatened to surface once again.

“Antinous and I…we’ve been arguing. He said he wouldn’t protect me from the suitor’s anymore…and they took that to their advantage.” She softly said, her voice broken and her pride bruised. She wasn’t sure why she had told Penelope anything, the words just came flowing out.

“Poor thing..” Penelope whispered, moving to her knees to gently grab her chin. She carefully dabbed the rag on the girl’s split lip, and softly apologized when she winced. They sat there in silence as Penelope carefully took care of her.

“It should heal in a few days..” She softly said, getting off of her knees and putting the water and rag back in the spot where she had retrieved it from, “The bruise on the other hand I’m not so sure about.”

For some reason, y/n had stood up in the middle of the room. When Penelope turned around again, she saw the girl looking back at her.

“Why are you helping me?” She shakily said, “I’ve done everything to destroy your life. I don’t deserve your care.”

Penelope’s face softened as she looked at the girl. She slowly moved closer, now being able to see the tears in her eyes. All Penelope could see was a young Helen. Confused and overwhelmed.

Her motherly instincts took over and she wrapped her arms around y/n’s shaking frame. She was stiff at first before relaxing against her touch and wrapping her arms around the queen.

“..Because I can tell you’ve been through a hard life. You’re not the product of Antinous. You’re Y/N. And I need to give that a chance.” Penelope whispered, stroking her fingers through Y/N’s hair.

A soft sob left her lips, “Everything’s falling apart…My brother hates me…Telemachus is away...I’m alone.”

Penelope only held the girl tighter, “You’re not alone. I’m here.”

She moved her face away from the crook of Penelope’s neck, “You should hate me.” She sobbed, trying to sniffle her tears away.

Penelope sighed, looking down at Y/N’s teary rich eyes, “My son loves you…that means I love you as well.” Her eyes widened. She had never heard any mother figure say that to her in her life. It was a foreign concept. She let out another sob, resting her head back into the crook of her neck. Penelope only held her closer before moving them to the bed and laying down with y/n curled up in her arms.

“I wish he would come home.” She cried, her voice mumbled.

Penelope only sighed, gently rubbing her back, “I know.” They stayed throughout the night, fulfilling the comfort that they both equally needed.

˚₊‧꒰ა ☆ ໒꒱ ‧₊˚

Antinous stormed down the halls of the palace, his vision blurred by anger and guilt. Each step he took felt heavier, his chest constricted like a vice. The sound of his boots echoed against the stone walls, but his mind drowned it out with the pounding of his own thoughts.

Slamming the door to his room, he let out a guttural yell, his voice raw with frustration. He grabbed the nearest object—a wooden stool—and hurled it against the wall, the crash reverberating through the room as it shattered into pieces. His breaths came in ragged gasps as he continued his rampage, swiping books off his shelves, tearing down curtains, and upending furniture.

“She doesn’t understand!” he shouted to no one, his voice cracking. “She doesn’t know what I’ve done for her! I’m in the right!” His fists slammed against the desk, splintering the wood beneath the force.

His anger spiraled, a storm he couldn’t control. He picked up a vase, one of the few items left unbroken, and hurled it against the wall, the shards scattering across the floor like tiny stars. His hands shook as he grabbed at his own hair, pulling at the roots in a futile attempt to ground himself.

“You’re just like Mother.”

Her words echoed in his mind, louder and louder, until they drowned out every other thought. With a roar, he turned to the mirror hanging on the wall and punched it with all his strength. The glass shattered, fragments cascading to the ground like glittering rain. His knuckles dripped blood, crimson streaks staining the shards at his feet. He stood there, panting, his chest heaving as he stared at the broken reflection of himself. But it wasn’t his face he saw.

In the jagged pieces of the mirror, her face stared back at him. His mother’s cold, angry eyes. Her twisted smirk. The same sneer she wore when she beat him down, when she broke him piece by piece.

“No…” he whispered, his voice barely audible. His hands trembled as he clutched the frame of the shattered mirror, his blood smearing across the glass. “Do I… Do I look like her?” His breath hitched as he stared at the reflection, his face warped by the uneven shards. The resemblance was undeniable—the fury, the disdain, the cruelty. He saw it all.

Antinous stumbled back, his legs giving out as he collapsed onto the floor. The room was silent now, save for his ragged breaths and the faint drip of blood from his knuckles. He looked down at his hands, scarred and bloodied, and felt an overwhelming wave of disgust.

“Have I… always been like this? Did I always have that mole on my cheek..?” he murmured, his voice breaking.

The weight of it all crushed him—the years of bitterness, the anger, the way he had treated his sister. He leaned his head back against the wall, tears streaming down his face as he closed his eyes. All he could see was her face, younger and frightened, looking up at him for protection. And all he could hear were her words.

“You’re just like Mother.”

“You’re just like her.”

“You’ve become her.”

Antinous sat motionless on the floor of his room, his head leaning against the cold wall as his chest heaved with silent sobs. His bloody knuckles stung, but the pain felt distant, like a whisper compared to the storm raging in his heart. Slowly, memories he had buried deep began clawing their way back to the surface, dragging him into the past. He was no older than ten, his body still small but sturdy for his age. The dim candlelight flickered in the cramped kitchen as he stood in front of his mother, his tiny fists clenched tightly at his sides. Behind him, six year old Y/N cowered on the floor, her hands trembling as she clutched the pieces of a shattered clay cup.

“I didn’t mean to!” She wailed, her tear streaked face buried in her arms. “I’m sorry, Momma! I didn’t mean to break it!”

Their mother loomed over them, her face contorted with rage. The smell of wine on her breath filled the air as she reached for the girl with a sharp, snapping voice. “You think sorry is enough, you little brat? That cup was worth more than your life!”

She whimpered, curling into herself, but before their mother could grab her, Antinous stepped in front of her, his arms spread wide like a shield.

“It was me!” Antinous blurted out, his voice cracking with panic. “I—I broke the cup, Momma. It wasn’t her. She didn’t do anything!”

Their mother froze, narrowing her eyes at him. “You think you can lie to me, boy?”

Antinous swallowed hard, but he didn’t back down. His body trembled as he stood his ground, even as his mother’s shadow loomed larger and darker over him. “It was me,” he said again, his voice quieter this time but firm. “I’m the one who broke it.”

His mother’s hand struck him so fast he barely saw it coming. The slap echoed through the room, followed by Y/N’s startled cry. Antinous stumbled back but didn’t fall. He straightened himself and stood tall, his face stinging but his resolve unbroken.

“You think you’re brave?” his mother spat, grabbing him by the arm and yanking him forward. “You think you can get away with anything because you’re the boy? I’ll teach you to respect what little we have!”

The first blow of the wooden spoon came down hard on his back, and he gritted his teeth to keep from crying out. He wouldn’t let his ssiter hear him scream. She was already crying enough for the both of them, her sobs filling the room as she watched helplessly.

“Stop it!” She cried, trying to crawl toward him. “Stop hurting him! He didn’t do anything! Momma, please!”

“Stay back, N/N!” Antinous shouted through clenched teeth, glancing over his shoulder to meet her terrified gaze. “Don’t come closer! Just—just stay back!”

But the beating continued. Each strike sent pain coursing through his small body, but he bore it silently, refusing to let their mother see him break. He kept his eyes locked on her, her tear streaked face the only thing anchoring him.

When their mother finally stopped, she threw him to the floor like a rag doll. “Next time, maybe you’ll learn to be more careful,” she hissed before storming off, muttering curses under her breath.

The room fell into a heavy silence, broken only by y/n’s soft, hiccupping sobs. Antinous lay on the floor for a moment, his body aching, before he pushed himself up onto his hands and knees.

She crawled to him, wrapping her tiny arms around his neck as fresh tears streamed down her cheeks. “I’m sorry,” she whimpered, her voice barely audible. “I’m so sorry, Antinous. I didn’t mean for this to happen.”

Antinous winced as her arms brushed against his bruised back, but he didn’t pull away. Instead, he hugged her tightly, resting his chin on her shoulder. “It’s okay, N/N,” he whispered, his voice hoarse but steady. “I promised I’d protect you, didn’t I? It doesn’t matter what happens to me. As long as you’re okay, that’s all that matters.”

The memory faded, and Antinous blinked, staring blankly at the shattered mirror in front of him. His reflection was fractured, split into pieces, just like he felt inside. The sight of his sister’s bruised face earlier replayed in his mind, and he clenched his fists until his nails dug into his palms.

“How did I become this?” he whispered, his voice shaking. “How did I become her?”

For the first time in years, Antinous felt powerless, a child again, staring up at the shadow of his mother that he swore he’d never become.

@procrastination20 @jackiepackiee @barrythestrawberry041 @blessedbyahuntress @f3r4lfr0gg3r @permanently-nothere @eyuunho @jackintheboxs-world @simpingmyassoff @sunshinewhosketches @sugarlillycookie @kaguraaaa @doodle-with-rhy @0anodite0 @xo-cuteplosion-xo

[mediocre-shark-tales]

Heat Exhaustion

Doohan Sister Reader F1 Driver Reader Cadillac Formula 1 Reader

Trigger Warning - Panic Attack

It was late, far too late to be awake when I had a flight to catch soon, but my mind wouldn’t quiet down. I was lying on my bed, my phone resting on my chest as I stared at the ceiling, lost in thought. The past week had been a whirlwind—another podium, more speculation about Max and me, the journalist still lurking in the shadows, and now… Max knowing the truth.

I should have felt relieved that he was on my side, that he wasn’t going to expose me, but instead, I felt like the walls were still closing in. Every day was a balancing act, a game of deception that I had to play to protect what I loved. And even though I trusted the few people who knew, the fact remained that they had all found out by accident.

I never got to choose who knew the truth about me.

Until now.

My fingers twitched as I lifted my phone, unlocking it and opening the group chat with Kimi and Ollie. They had been checking in on me more than usual, sending casual texts but always slipping in a "How are you feeling?" or "You sure you're good?" I appreciated it, but I also knew they were picking up on things I wasn’t saying.

I hesitated before finally typing.

Me: Hey, are you guys up?

The typing bubble appeared almost instantly.

Ollie: Yeah, what’s up? Kimi: Everything okay?

I chewed on my bottom lip, my fingers hovering over the keyboard. This wasn’t something I could just say easily. But I needed to get it out.

Me: I’ve just been thinking a lot about last weekend. It was… a lot to handle.

A pause, then—

Ollie: Yeah, we figured. You’ve been kinda off. Kimi: Not talking as much. That’s not like you.

I let out a soft breath, a small smile tugging at my lips despite the heaviness in my chest. They noticed.

Me: Yeah… it’s just hard to explain sometimes.

Kimi: You don’t have to if you’re not ready. But if you ever want to, we’re here.

That was the thing—I did want to.

I had spent so long keeping people at arm’s length, maintaining the act, making sure no one ever saw too much. I had gotten used to it. But Kimi and Ollie were two of the people I had grown to genuinely care about on the grid. And I wanted them to know me the way that Franco, Lando, Oscar, and now Max did.

I wanted to choose them.

I gripped my phone tighter before finally typing out the words.

Me: Actually… I think I want to tell you guys something. Something big.

The typing bubbles popped up immediately.

Ollie: Okay…? Kimi: Now I’m curious.

I exhaled slowly, staring at the screen, willing myself to go through with it.

Me: Every person who knows this about me found out by accident. I never really got to choose who I told.

A pause. Then—

Ollie: What do you mean? Kimi: Are you saying… you want to tell us?

My heart was pounding. This was it.

Me: Yeah. I do. I trust you both, and I want you to actually know me.

There was a longer silence this time. For a moment, I wondered if they were freaking out, if they were regretting saying they’d always be here.

Then—

Kimi: Wow… okay. When? Ollie: Yeah, whenever you’re ready, we’re here.

I let out a shaky breath, a warmth spreading through my chest.

Me: How about after media duties on Thursday in Qatar? Just us, maybe in my hotel room. I want to finally show you who I am.

It felt strange to say it like that—show them who I was. But that was the reality. No one besides Franco, Lando, Oscar, and now Max had seen me without the baggy clothes, the helmet, the entire disguise I had carefully built. Kimi and Ollie had only ever known Ghost. Now, they would finally meet me.

The typing bubble appeared, then disappeared, then appeared again, as if they were thinking hard about their response. Then, finally—

Ollie: We’ll be there. Kimi: Of course. We wouldn’t miss it.

I exhaled deeply, my shoulders slumping with relief as I locked my phone and pressed it against my chest.

For the first time, I was choosing who to trust. I was deciding who got to know the real me. That made all the difference as my mind began to relax, I was able to fit in a nice nap before my alarm woke me to leave for the airport. 

—

The seconds dragged, stretching unbearably as I sat on the edge of my hotel bed, my hands clenched into fists so tight that my nails dug into my palms. My helmet was still on, the visor down, the only thing keeping me hidden for just a little while longer. My hoodie felt suffocating, but I didn’t push it back. Not yet.

I had been so sure when I texted them.

I had spent the whole week telling myself this was the right thing to do, that this was the moment I would finally get to take control over something that had been out of my hands for far too long. Every other person who had found out had done so by accident—Franco, Lando, Oscar, even Max. Each time, it had happened without me choosing it, without me deciding I was ready.

This time, I had made the choice. I had typed the words out myself, I had asked Kimi and Ollie if they would come.

So why did I feel like my heart was about to beat out of my chest?

I exhaled sharply, my knee bouncing as I tried to shake the feeling off. This is nothing. This is just another reveal.

But it wasn’t, not really.

Because they weren’t just my teammates or my rivals. They were my friends. And they had become my friends without knowing who I really was.

What if this did change things?

What if they looked at me differently? What if they started treating me like I was fragile? What if—

Knock knock knock.

I jolted upright, breath catching in my throat.

The moment was here.

For a fleeting second, I considered staying put, pretending I wasn’t in, sending them a last-minute excuse that something had come up. But deep down, I knew I couldn’t do that. I had come this far, had spent years hiding, and I was so tired of it.

Swallowing down my nerves, I forced myself up, my feet feeling heavier than usual as I crossed the room.

Another knock, gentler this time.

They were waiting.

I reached for the handle, hesitating just long enough to take a steadying breath before pulling the door open.

Kimi and Ollie stood there, both looking equally nervous.

Their eyes flicked immediately to my helmet, to the way my hoodie draped over me, and I saw the realization hit them—that I was shaking.

“You don’t have to do this,” Ollie said immediately, stepping forward slightly. “If you don’t feel ready, we won’t be upset.”

“Seriously,” Kimi added, his voice softer than I had ever heard it. “We don’t want you to feel like you have to do this. It’s okay if you change your mind.”

Their kindness nearly broke me.

I clenched my jaw, gripping the edge of my hoodie sleeves, trying to hold myself together. They were giving me an out—offering me an escape with no strings attached. And for a second, a small part of me wanted to take it.

But I had spent so long not having a choice.

I wanted this.

“No,” I said, shaking my head slightly. “I want to do this. I need to.”

They studied me for a long moment, like they were trying to make sure I really meant it.

Then, finally, Ollie gave me a small smile, one that told me he understood just how much this moment meant to me. Kimi nodded in agreement.

“Okay,” Kimi said simply.

I stepped back, letting them inside. The door clicked shut behind them, and suddenly, the room felt so much smaller.

The weight of what I was about to do pressed down on my shoulders.

I turned to face them, my hands still trembling slightly, but I clenched them into fists again, trying to ground myself.

“One rule,” I said, my voice quieter than usual. “No matter who is under this helmet… you can’t tell anyone.”

Ollie’s expression softened further, his brows pulling together like he could see just how much this meant to me. “Of course. We’d never do that.”

Kimi nodded firmly. “We promise. We wouldn’t risk losing you. We have come to care for you as more than just a competitor.”

The words hit harder than I expected, my chest tightening at the sheer sincerity in their voices.

They didn’t care about the mystery, about the reveal itself.

They just cared about me.

I inhaled sharply, feeling a lump form in my throat as I lifted my hands to my helmet.

This was it.

The final moment before the truth came out.

I hesitated, my fingers gripping the edges. My mind screamed at me to stall, to wait just another second, just another minute, but I forced myself to push through the fear.

They’re your friends. They won’t leave. They won’t treat you differently.

Slowly, I lifted the helmet off.

The cool air hit my face first, followed by the flop of my hair from within the casing.

For a second, neither of them moved as an eerie silence filled the room.

Then, Ollie’s eyes widened, his mouth parting slightly as he blinked in pure shock. Kimi’s reaction was quieter, but his expression shifted instantly, his brows raising in understanding.

The weight of the moment pressed down on me, my heartbeat hammering so loudly in my ears that I swore they could hear it.

Seconds stretched unbearably, and then—

Ollie let out a quiet, breathless laugh, his lips twitching up into a grin. “No way.”

Kimi exhaled, shaking his head with something that looked like disbelief before his lips curled into a soft smile. “That’s why you were so nervous, huh?”

I nodded slowly, unable to find my voice.

Ollie let out a low whistle, running a hand through his hair. “Mate, you’ve been fooling the entire world.”

Something about his tone—light, teasing, not at all distant or different—made the tension in my shoulders loosen slightly.

Kimi tilted his head, studying me for a moment before nodding. “This… actually makes a lot of sense now.”

I blinked. “It does?”

Kimi hummed in amusement, tilting his head as he studied me. “Yeah… the way you’ve been moving, the way you’ve been hiding. It wasn’t just about keeping your identity a secret, was it?” His voice was quieter now, thoughtful. “It was about making sure people saw you as a driver first. Not just a name… and not just because you’re a girl.”

I swallowed hard, my throat suddenly dry. They got it. They really, truly got it.

Ollie’s gaze lingered on my face for a moment longer before something seemed to click. His eyes widened slightly. “Wait a second…” He squinted, like he was trying to place a distant memory. Then, his jaw dropped. “No way.”

Kimi’s brows furrowed before realization dawned over him too. His expression softened in understanding. “Holy shit. You’re—” He hesitated, almost like he didn’t want to say it out loud. “You’re Jack’s little sister, aren’t you?”

A sharp breath left me at the sound of my brother’s name.

I nodded slowly.

Ollie let out a breathless laugh, running a hand through his hair as the memories seemed to come rushing back to him. “I knew you looked familiar! You were at a race a few years back, weren’t you? I remember Jack talking about his sister being in the paddock for a weekend, but you were—” He gestured vaguely. “You looked different then. You weren’t…”

“Disguised?” I offered with a small, wry smile.

He let out a chuckle. “Yeah. Exactly.”

Kimi exhaled, shaking his head as a small, amused smile tugged at the corner of his lips. “This explains so much.”

Ollie looked at me, his expression shifting from disbelief to something softer. “Why didn’t you just race under your real name?”

I hesitated, my fingers curling into my hoodie sleeves. “Besides the problems with my parents, I didn’t want to be just ‘Jack’s little sister.’ I wanted to make it here on my own. No expectations, no assumptions—just me, proving that I deserved to be here.”

Kimi nodded in understanding, his eyes holding something that looked like respect. “And you did.”

Ollie grinned, nudging me lightly. “Yeah, you really did. And honestly? This makes you even more of a legend.”

That hit deep. I let out a slow breath, my nerves still there but quieter now, replaced by something warmer.

Kimi’s smile softened. “We’ve got your back, okay? No one’s finding out from us.”

Ollie nodded. “Yeah. No matter what, we’ve got you.”

Relief crashed over me in waves, so intense I almost felt dizzy from it. For the first time in a long time, I chose to tell someone my truth. And I had chosen right.

—

The weekend’s sessions had been utterly brutal. The relentless Qatar heat wasn’t just uncomfortable—it was suffocating. It clung to my suit, turned every breath inside my helmet thick and stifling, made every movement feel sluggish. Sweat dripped down my back, pooling beneath layers of fireproofs, but I couldn’t do anything about it. I couldn't peel the suit away between runs like the others did. I couldn’t press an ice pack to my neck, couldn’t dump water over my head to cool down.

I couldn’t even drink properly.

Every other driver could remove their helmets, take a quick sip from their bottles between debriefs, but I had to wait until I was alone in my driver’s room. The few stolen moments between sessions were the only times I could rip off my helmet, gulp down as much water as I could manage, and try to regulate my breathing before I had to suit back up again.

And qualifying was proving just how much that was wearing me down.

I gritted my teeth, forcing my trembling hands to stay steady on the wheel as I threw the car into the next corner. My arms ached from the relentless force pressing against them, my gloves were damp from sweat, and the heat inside my helmet made my head pound.

But I didn’t lift.

I couldn’t.

This was my last chance. One more lap to break into Q3. One more lap to prove I could push through.

I kept my foot down, forcing the car to its limits, wringing every ounce of performance I could from the tires. But as I rounded the final turn, the rear snapped—just a fraction, but enough to jolt my exhausted system.

I corrected it instantly, instinct taking over before my brain even had time to register the mistake. But the damage was done.

A few milliseconds lost.

Milliseconds that could mean the difference between moving forward or falling short.

I held my breath as I crossed the line, waiting—praying.

Then the radio crackled to life.

“Good job, Ghost.” Diego’s voice was steady, but I could hear the tightness behind it. “You just made it into Q3. Sitting P10 right now.”

Relief crashed into me, but it was quickly smothered by exhaustion.

“You’re not alone up there,” Diego continued. “Franco’s through too—P8. We’re happy with this, but let’s see if we can get something better out of you.”

I swallowed, my throat dry as sandpaper.

They wanted more from me.

They always wanted more.

And normally, I would have fought for it. Normally, I would have dug deeper, found something extra to give.

But right now?

Right now, I wasn’t sure if I had anything left.

My fingers twitched against the wheel, muscles trembling from heat exhaustion. I could feel the sweat pooling beneath my suit, soaking into the balaclava under my helmet. Every breath inside the confined space of my visor felt too warm, too thick, like I was breathing in steam.

I needed water. I needed air. I needed to be out of this damn suit for more than just a few stolen minutes between sessions.

But there was no time for that.

Not yet.

I forced myself to key the radio, my voice rougher than usual. “Understood.” My throat burned from dehydration, but I ignored it. “Let’s go again.”

There was a pause. A small one.

Then Diego’s voice returned, softer this time.

“Copy that. You got this, Ghost.”

I exhaled sharply, rolling out of the pit lane for the next run.

I had to.

—

By the time I pulled into the pit box, my body was on the verge of betraying me completely. The heat had wrung every ounce of strength from my limbs, leaving me trapped in my own skin, suffocating inside my race suit. The weight of exhaustion pressed down like a physical force, making my grip on the wheel feel distant, almost nonexistent. My hands wouldn’t stop shaking, even as I tried to flex my fingers in my lap. My chest rose and fell in shallow, uneven breaths, the stale, burning air inside my helmet making it impossible to get enough oxygen.

As the pit crew jacked up my car and rolled me back into my side of the garage, I let my head fall back against the seat for just a moment, forcing myself to blink away the dizziness creeping in around the edges of my vision. The helmet felt like a furnace, trapping the heat against my skin, suffocating me with my own exhaustion.

I turned my head slightly, vision swimming, and caught sight of Franco already out of his car. His face was drenched in sweat, but he still had that easy, confident smile as he laughed with his engineers. How? He had been in the same conditions, pushing just as hard, and yet he looked… fine.

Then his eyes landed on me.

His grin widened as he raised a hand in a wave, but the second I lifted mine in return, his smile disappeared. His brows drew together, the concern sharp and immediate.

I knew exactly what he had seen.

The way my hand trembled violently, the sluggishness of my movements, the way my shoulders sagged like the weight of my own body was too much to carry.

Before I even attempted to move, Franco was already striding toward me, his playful demeanor completely gone. He reached the side of my car in seconds, one hand braced against the halo as he leaned in slightly, scanning my posture beneath the helmet.

"Hey," he said, voice quieter, serious in a way that sent a fresh wave of panic rolling through me. "You good?"

I forced myself to nod, even as my head swam. Say something. Don’t look weak.

But the moment I shifted, trying to push myself up, my body collapsed against the seat, arms going weak and useless.

"Shit—"

I barely had time to register Franco moving before his hands were on me, steadying me before I could even attempt another escape. His grip was firm but careful, as if he knew how close I was to completely shutting down.

"Oi, Nico!" Franco called over his shoulder, urgency lacing his voice. "Need a hand here!"

Footsteps rushed closer, and then Nico’s familiar presence was beside us, his voice calm but sharp. “What happened?”

“She’s overheating,” Franco answered before I could.

I wanted to protest, to tell them both to back off, but I didn’t have the energy.

“Come on,” Nico said, his arm sliding under mine as he and Franco braced me between them. “We need to get her cooled off before she passes out.”

Their help was the only thing keeping me on my feet as they guided me toward the drivers' room, my legs barely responding beneath me. Every step felt sluggish, like walking through molasses.

Inside, the temperature difference was immediate, the air conditioning hitting my suit like a wave of relief, but it wasn’t enough. I was still burning up, my skin damp with sweat beneath the layers of fireproof gear.

"Helmet," Franco said, tapping the sides. "You need to get it off."

I lifted shaky hands, fumbling with the latch, but my fingers wouldn’t cooperate. Before I could even try again, Franco was already reaching for it, carefully undoing it for me.

As soon as the helmet came off, cooler air rushed against my flushed skin, and I gasped like I had been drowning.

“Here.” Nico pressed a cold water bottle into my hands, his expression unreadable but firm. “Drink. But go slow.”

I brought the bottle to my lips, the plastic slick in my shaking grasp, and took a sip. It felt like heaven against my parched throat, but even with the relief, my voice still came out hoarse.

"Thanks."

Franco crouched in front of me, his green-brown eyes searching my face for something, his usual teasing smirk nowhere to be found. "You shouldn’t have pushed that hard."

I shot him a weak glare. "Like you didn’t?"

He exhaled sharply through his nose, clearly not amused.

Before he could fire back, a knock sounded from the door followed by the nervous voice of some team staff.

“They need you both for post-qualifying media duties.”

Franco turned so fast I thought he might break something. “Are you kidding me? We just got out of the cars, and it’s boiling out there. We are barely upright right now.”

The team member sighed. “I know. I tried to push it back, but the media’s already set up. It’s non-negotiable.”

I closed my eyes for a brief second, letting out a slow breath. I wanted to be angry, to fight back, but I knew it wouldn’t change anything.

“It’s fine,” I muttered, pushing myself upright again. My legs wobbled dangerously, but I locked them in place. “Let’s just get it over with.”

Franco muttered something in Spanish under his breath, the irritation rolling off of him in waves.

Nico moved fast, reaching into a cooler before handing me something. “Here. Wear this over your suit.”

I glanced down at the ice vest in my hands, then back up at him, gratitude flashing through my exhaustion.

"Thanks," I murmured, slipping it on. The moment the cold pressed against my back and chest, my whole body sagged in relief. Even though the sweaty suit felt disgusting, the cold seeping in from this vest made it so much more worth it. Finally I pulled my helmet back on and followed Franco out the door. 

Franco was still grumbling under his breath as we made our way toward the press area, but as I adjusted my helmet again, I could feel his gaze burning into me. I knew I must still look exhausted and he had every right to be worried for me, but right now we had our media duties and neither of us got paid enough to take the fine that would come with even one of us skipping them. 

The moment I stepped into the media pen, the lights, cameras, and voices crashed over me like a tidal wave. My head throbbed from the heat and exhaustion, my limbs screaming for rest, but I forced my body to move forward, to stand tall, to act like I wasn’t breaking apart from the inside out.

The ice vest on my race suit helped, but only just. The cold was already fading, overwhelmed by the sheer intensity of the heat pressing down on all of us. My hands still shook at my sides, fingers twitching involuntarily, and I could feel the weakness in my legs with every step I took. But I had to push through. No cracks. No hesitation. No weakness.

The media swarmed the second they saw me. Microphones were shoved toward my helmet, journalists calling out my name—well, my alias.

"Ghost, a tough session today—"

"How was the car handling in these conditions?"

"With such brutal temperatures, how are you holding up physically?"

I kept my shoulders squared, forcing my voice to stay even. "It was tough out there, but the team did a great job preparing the car. The conditions were brutal for everyone, but we managed to get through."

I hated how flat my voice sounded. The voice changer masked everything—my exhaustion, my struggle, my pain—but my body couldn’t lie. My stance wasn’t as steady as it should have been. My weight shifted slightly, trying to counteract the wobble in my knees. I flexed my fingers at my sides, willing the tremors away.

The next journalist didn’t even bother with a question about my performance. Instead, their voice came with a sharper edge. "Ghost, we’ve noticed you’re looking a little unsteady—"

"I'm fine," I cut in, too quickly, too defensive.

A scoff came from beside me, and I didn’t need to turn my head to know who it was.

"Fine?" Max’s voice carried over the media, sharp and laced with irritation. "They can barely stand, and you all are still shoving microphones in their face. Maybe wait until they’ve had a chance to recover before making them answer pointless questions."

I swallowed, the warmth in my chest battling the exhaustion. Max was blunt as ever, but I appreciated him for it.

The journalists, of course, didn't back down. "Max, the FIA mandates post-qualifying media duties—"

"Yeah?" Charles cut in now, his voice tight with frustration. "Maybe the FIA should use their eyes and see that some of us can barely speak, let alone stand, before throwing us in front of cameras. Look at him. This isn’t normal."

I gritted my teeth, willing my body to stay still, to not give anything away. I had survived worse. I could do this.

A hand brushed against my arm—subtle but intentional. Lewis.

He didn’t say anything to the media, but his voice was low enough for only me to hear. "You don’t have to prove anything to them. Just get through it. We’ve got you."

The kindness in his tone almost shattered the wall I was desperately holding up.

But the media wasn't done.

"Ghost, how do you respond to Max and Charles’ concerns? Are you struggling more than you’re letting on?"

I inhaled slowly, steadying myself before answering. "It’s a tough race weekend for everyone. The conditions are harsh, but that’s part of the sport."

Another journalist jumped in. "There were moments on track where you seemed to be fighting the car more than usual. Was that just the heat, or were there issues with the setup?"

I exhaled slowly. "The setup is strong. The conditions make everything harder to manage, but we’re still in a good place for the race."

The questions kept coming, and I kept answering, pushing through the nausea creeping at the edges of my mind. My hands were clenched into fists now, not out of anger but in a desperate attempt to stop the shaking. My legs felt like they could give out at any second, but I locked my knees, refusing to let them see me stumble.

"Ghost, you’re one of the only drivers still giving full interviews right now, while others have already left due to the heat. Do you feel obligated to stay?"

That one made my breath hitch.

Before I could even formulate an answer, Franco’s voice cut in from a few feet away, his tone dripping with frustration. "Maybe instead of asking him that, you should be asking why the hell he is still expected to be standing here answering your questions when he clearly needs a break."

I heard Lando mutter something under his breath before stepping in too. "We all get that media duties are part of the job, but seriously, look at him. We’re dropping like flies out here, and Ghost can barely stand. Let him go."

For a moment, the journalists hesitated. Maybe they had finally realized how bad I must have looked. Maybe they saw the way I kept shifting my weight, the way my breaths were coming just a little too shallow, the way my hands wouldn’t stay still.

The team member who had escorted me here finally stepped in, clearing his throat. "That’s all for Ghost today. He needs to recover before tomorrow."

I didn’t wait for the journalists to argue. I gave a short nod, mumbled a quick, "Thank you," and turned to leave, moving slower than I wanted to, but fast enough that no one could stop me.

As soon as I stepped away from the cameras, away from the eyes burning into me, my entire body slumped. The adrenaline that had been keeping me upright drained in an instant.

Franco was there in seconds, steadying me with a firm hand on my back. "That was fucking ridiculous."

I couldn’t even respond. My head was pounding too much, my muscles aching too deeply.

Lando and Oscar caught up to us, both looking equally pissed.

"You should’ve just walked away the second you got out there," Oscar muttered, shaking his head. "They would’ve figured it out eventually."

I let out a weak laugh. "Would they, though?"

Lando huffed. "Next time, we’re dragging you out before they even get the chance."

I was too tired to argue.

Lewis appeared beside me, pressing another ice pack into my hands. "Here. This’ll help."

I took it without question, pressing it against my neck. The relief was instant but not nearly enough. Lewis smiled at me with a nod before quietly walking away. 

Max crossed his arms, still glaring toward the media pen. "If the FIA doesn’t do something about this, I will."

I shook my head slightly. "You can’t—"

"Watch me."

I sighed, but deep down, I was grateful.

—

The cold water from earlier had long since lost its effect, leaving only a dull, lingering coolness that did nothing to combat the growing weight pressing down on me.

I sat on the edge of my bed in my drivers’ room, fully suited up, my helmet resting beside me as I finished the last bottle of water I could stomach. Every sip felt like a lifeline, a desperate attempt to build a reserve before the inevitable heat drained it all away. Today was hotter than any session before, and I knew—we all knew—this race would be a battle of survival just as much as it would be a battle for position.

I exhaled slowly, rolling my shoulders back, trying to focus my mind. You’ve done this before. You can do it again. You just have to push through.

My fingers curled into fists against my thighs before I finally grabbed my helmet, slipping it on and locking myself in. This was it. No turning back now.

I pushed open the door and stepped out into the chaos of the garage.

—

The first laps of the race were smooth. I focused on keeping the tires in check, my pace steady, not taking unnecessary risks. The heat was already settling in, pressing against me like a second race suit, but I’d prepared for this.

Then, somewhere around the middle of the race, I hit the water button for the fifth time.

The familiar small tube inside my helmet released a shot of liquid into my mouth. The moment it touched my tongue, I gagged. It wasn’t cool anymore. It wasn’t even lukewarm. It was hot.

I spat it out instinctively, the taste bitter and almost nauseating.

"Water’s boiling," I muttered into the radio, shifting my focus back to the track.

Diego’s voice came through, calm but firm. "Copy, Ghost. Just do what you can. We’ll monitor your vitals."

I clenched my jaw. I already knew what that meant. They were watching my performance, my inputs, my pace. They’d pull me if they thought I was fading.

I wasn’t going to let that happen.

Laps blurred together. My mouth was dry, my throat raw from the heat. My hands were slippery inside my gloves, and every breath felt heavier than the last. I had stopped sweating at some point—not because the heat had lessened, but because my body had nothing left to give.

"Ghost, you need to think about retiring," Diego’s voice came through again, a little more insistent now. "We can see the drop-off. It’s okay."

I shook my head, even though he couldn’t see me. "No. I can finish."

Even if I had to drag myself to the checkered flag.

"Ghost—"

"Who’s out?" I cut him off, forcing the words out through gritted teeth.

There was a pause before he answered. "Doohan, Lawson, and Stroll. They’ve all retired due to the heat."

I exhaled sharply. That could’ve been me. It still could be me.

But I wasn’t done. I wasn’t finished.

I tightened my grip on the wheel, ignoring the way my vision was beginning to blur at the edges.

"Not yet," I murmured.

Then I pressed forward.

—

The moment I stopped, my body betrayed me.

I had done it—I finished the race in P6. Franco had taken P5. But there was no relief, no triumph. Only the crushing weight of exhaustion bearing down on me like a collapsing ceiling.

As I pulled into Parc Fermé, the heat that had been suffocating me all race now pressed into my skull like a vice. My vision blurred as I tried to breathe through the nausea clawing at my throat. My arms felt detached, as if they were no longer mine to command. The entire world had narrowed down to a pounding in my head and the tremors that I could no longer ignore.

This is bad. This is really bad.

I fumbled with the steering wheel, fingers trembling too hard to properly unclip it. I finally managed to yank it off, dropping it onto the nose as I reached for the halo, trying to pull myself up. My muscles screamed, burning with a fire that wasn’t just exertion—this was something worse.

My foot barely found purchase as I tried to climb out, and the second I attempted to push myself up, my strength gave out. My body slumped forward, upper torso flopping limply over the halo, my arms barely holding me up as my head hung between them. My breath came in sharp, rapid bursts, my lungs fighting against the stifling heat trapped inside my race suit.

I wasn’t just exhausted. I was failing.

Panic twisted deep in my chest, feeding into the violent shudders racking my body. My helmet felt suffocating, my suit like a second layer of burning skin. I was shaking uncontrollably, my fingers barely gripping onto the car to keep me from collapsing completely. My heart slammed against my ribs, too fast, too much—

"Breathe—breathe—" I gasped to myself, but I couldn’t.

I barely registered the footsteps rushing toward me until two familiar voices called out—

"Whoa, whoa, hey—"

"Shit—Ghost! Are you okay?!"

Ollie and Kimi.

I felt hands on me—strong, steady hands. One of them gripped my waist while the other reached for my arms, carefully but urgently trying to pull me the rest of the way out of the car. My legs buckled the second my weight shifted, but they caught me before I could hit the ground.

"She’s burning up," Ollie cursed, adjusting his hold as he and Kimi fully hoisted me up between them.

The movement made the nausea spike—the world tilted violently, a wave of dizziness crashing into me like a tidal force. I groaned softly, my head rolling against Kimi’s shoulder. The tremors in my body worsened. My knees refused to hold me, leaving all of my weight pressed into them.

"We need to get him out of here—now," Kimi said, voice tight with concern.

"Franco—" Ollie called over his shoulder, but Franco was already moving.

I barely tracked his blurred figure before he turned and sprinted towards the garage. I heard his frantic voice shouting something about Nico, ice, water, bath—but it all faded into static.

Another set of hands found me—Oscar.

"Come on, let’s get him back—" he said, already helping them move.

I didn’t have the strength to respond, to fight back against the way my vision kept fading in and out.

The three of them half-carried, half-dragged me up the pit lane. My body swayed uselessly, my legs numb beneath me, my head lolling forward and back.

I barely registered Lando’s voice until I heard his sharp inhale—

"What the hell—? Hey—what’s wrong with him?"

The shuffle of hurried steps.

Max’s voice.

"Move—what happened? What’s going on?!"

Their voices were frantic, but I couldn’t focus.

The only thing I could do was press my head against Kimi’s shoulder, my body burning and trembling and fading, fading—

The last thing I felt before my mind slipped further into the haze was the grip of their hands tightening around me.

Holding me up. Keeping me safe.

—

The cold hit me like a freight train.

A sharp, biting shock that sent a jolt through my entire body, dragging me out of the suffocating haze of unconsciousness. My skin burned from the contrast—heat still radiating off me, clashing violently against the icy water.

I groaned, head lolling to the side as I tried to blink my vision clear.

"Hey—hey, she’s waking up."

The voice was Franco’s, tight with concern.

My sluggish mind took a moment to catch up—to register that I wasn’t in the car anymore, that my helmet was gone, my race suit stripped away. I was submerged up to my chest in ice water, wearing only the thin layer of fireproofs that clung uncomfortably to my damp skin.

A firm but careful grip pressed against my shoulders—Nico.

"Easy," he murmured, steady and grounding. "Just breathe, y/n. You need to stay in the bath a little longer."

Everything still felt wrong.

My limbs were too heavy, my lungs too tight, the room too cold yet my skin too hot. My body couldn’t decide whether it was freezing or burning, and the overwhelming confusion of it all sent my mind spiraling.

"W-What—" My voice cracked—raw, hoarse.

I winced at the sound, my throat aching like I had swallowed sandpaper.

"You overheated, bad," Kimi said, leaning closer. His face was creased with worry. "We had to get you in here fast. You passed out completely."

"You scared the hell out of us," Ollie added, his usual teasing lilt nowhere in his voice.

I swallowed thickly, eyes darting around the dimly lit drivers’ room, heart rate already climbing from the weight of their words.

I had pushed too far.

I had scared them.

I had failed.

The thought hit me like a slap to the face, and suddenly, the tightness in my chest worsened.

The trembling in my hands turned into violent shakes, my breath shuddering as something clawed its way up my throat—not nausea this time, but panic. Full-blown panic.

I felt trapped in my own body.

"No—no, no, no—" I barely gasped out, my breathing spiraling into sharp, erratic bursts.

The ice bath felt too deep.

The cold was too much.

The room was spinning—

"Shit, she’s panicking," Franco cursed, immediately shifting closer. "Hey—hey, look at me."

I couldn’t. I couldn’t. I was shaking too much, heart slamming against my ribs, my vision swimming as every exhausted nerve in my body screamed at once.

Nico held me firm.

His grip on my shoulders tightened just enough to keep me grounded, his voice level as he spoke—"Breathe, kid. Don’t fight it. Just let it pass."

"You’re safe, y/n," Ollie’s voice cut through the haze, softer now. "We’re right here. You’re okay."

"You’re not alone," Kimi added, his usual stoicism cracking just enough for me to hear the genuine concern beneath it.

I squeezed my eyes shut, struggling to pull myself out of the panic’s grip.

Just breathe.

I sucked in a shaky breath. Then another. And another.

Slowly, painfully, the tightness in my chest loosened, the suffocating weight on my ribs easing—not gone, but manageable.

When I finally blinked my eyes open again, tears had slipped down my flushed cheeks, mixing with the cold water clinging to my skin.

I sniffled, embarrassed, trying to shake it off—

But Ollie just huffed a quiet laugh and reached out, gently brushing the pads of his fingers beneath my eyes to wipe them away.

"You look awful," he teased lightly, though the relief in his voice was obvious. "But at least you’re back with us."

I let out a weak breath—something close to a laugh, but more of a tired exhale.

"Thanks, Ollie."

"Anytime, y/n."

There was a beat of silence before Franco sighed, running a hand through his sweat-damp hair.

"We gotta go, though. Cooldown debriefs and all."

I nodded, though I still felt too weak to fully sit up on my own.

Kimi, Ollie, and Franco hesitated before leaving, their gazes lingering on me, as if making sure I wouldn’t crumble the second they walked out the door.

"Go," I rasped, offering a small nod. "I’ll be fine."

It took another beat, but eventually, they filed out, leaving only Nico behind.

He didn’t say anything at first. Just sat on the stool beside the tub, watching me carefully as I tried to even out my breath.

Then—quietly—he handed me a bottle of water.

"Drink, kid."

I did.

—

The walk to media duties felt longer than usual.

My body was still aching, my skin still hot despite the ice bath, but at least I could move without my legs threatening to give out beneath me. The hoodie and sweats Nico had given me felt heavy, but they helped me still hide my feminine figure without having to put my race suit back on.

Helmet back on. Voice changer activated. Persona intact.

I was Ghost again.

Not the girl who had almost collapsed from heat exhaustion. Not the one who had panicked in the ice bath.

Just Ghost.

I had just rounded the corner when I nearly crashed into someone.

"Whoa—"

I barely had time to process before I felt a firm hand grip my shoulder, steadying me.

"Are you even okay to be walking around?"

Oscar.

I lifted my head slightly, immediately greeted by the sight of Oscar, Max, and Lando, all three of them looking me over like I might drop at any second.

Oscar’s expression was tight with concern, his eyes scanning me as if searching for any sign of weakness beneath the hoodie and sweats.

Max and Lando, on the other hand—they just looked pissed.

"Ghost, what the hell were you thinking?" Lando’s voice was sharper than usual, his usual playfulness nowhere to be found.

"You could have passed out behind the wheel!" Max snapped, arms crossing over his chest.

"You’re lucky you even made it to the end without crashing," Lando added, eyes narrowing.

I sighed, already feeling the exhaustion creep back in. "Guys, I finished the race. I’m fine."

"Fine?" Max echoed, his voice dripping with disbelief. "You couldn’t even get out of your damn car! You had to be carried to your garage!"

"We saw you, mate," Lando said, shaking his head. "You scared the shit out of us."

Oscar, who had been quiet up until now, finally spoke—his voice softer, but no less firm.

"You should’ve retired, Ghost."

I clenched my jaw beneath my helmet, fingers curling into fists at my sides.

They didn’t get it.

I had something to prove.

After everything—after spending the entire season fighting for my place, for my right to be here, for my strength—I couldn’t just quit.

Not when I was still standing.

"I couldn’t," I muttered, my voice low.

Max let out a sharp breath, shaking his head. "You’re a damn idiot."

Lando scoffed, running a hand through his hair. "Yeah, no kidding. You think you’re proving a point by pushing through this kind of shit? You’re just proving you have no self-preservation instincts."

"Lando—" Oscar started, but the Brit just kept going.

"Seriously, mate, what’s the point of all this secrecy, the helmet, the voice changer, if you’re just gonna race yourself into the damn grave?"

My chest tightened.

They didn’t understand.

"I finished the race," I said again, my voice stronger this time.

Max let out a bitter laugh, shaking his head. "Yeah, and nearly fucking died doing it."

There was a beat of silence.

I didn’t know what to say.

Because deep down, I knew they were right.

I had been stupid. I had risked everything.

But at the same time—I couldn’t regret it.

"I had to," I finally whispered.

Oscar sighed, rubbing his temples. "You didn’t have to. You just thought you did."

Max took a step closer, his voice lower now. "Don’t do that again."

"Max—"

"I mean it, Ghost." His eyes burned into mine through the visor of my helmet. "Don’t pull that shit again."

Lando exhaled, shaking his head. "If you ever scare us like that again, I swear to god—"

"What? You'll do what?" I challenged, tilting my head.

"We’ll fucking drag you out of the car ourselves next time," Lando shot back, dead serious.

I stared at them for a long moment before exhaling quietly.

"Noted."

Oscar sighed again, rubbing the back of his neck. "Just… promise you’ll take it easy for the rest of the day."

I hesitated—then gave a small nod.

"Fine."

Max and Lando exchanged a look, clearly not satisfied, but knowing they wouldn’t get much more out of me.

"Good," Max muttered. "Now go do those stupid media duties before we get in trouble for holding you up."

I let out a breath, turning toward the media pen.

I could still feel their eyes on me as I walked away.

—

The questions had been relentless since the moment I stepped into the media pen.

I had answered what felt like a hundred different versions of "How are you feeling?" and "Was the heat the toughest challenge today?" while keeping my voice steady, my responses measured.

I could still feel the weight of Max, Lando, and Oscar’s words from earlier pressing against my chest.

"You think you’re proving a point by pushing through this kind of shit?"

"You just thought you had to."

"Don’t pull that shit again."

I had brushed them off, insisted I was fine, but deep down, the doubt had already started to sink in.

And then—I heard Jack’s name.

"Jack, do you think Ghost finishing the race today proves that you gave up too soon?"

My stomach twisted.

I turned my head slightly, listening as Jack’s tone sharpened in response.

"You think I wanted to retire?" His voice was laced with frustration, the exhaustion from the race still evident. "I had no choice. I was on the verge of passing out in the car—what the hell was I supposed to do? Just push through it like an idiot?"

The reporters kept pushing, eager to stoke the flames.

"Well, Ghost did."

That set him off.

"Yeah, and look at them! Couldn’t even get out of the car! You think that’s smart? You think that’s proving a point? That’s just reckless."

My chest tightened.

They had gotten to him.

I knew what they were doing—trying to manufacture a rivalry, to paint one of us as weaker, the other as stronger, to get some headline-worthy soundbite out of him.

And Jack—he was giving them exactly what they wanted.

"Do you regret your decision now that you see what Ghost was capable of?"

Jack let out a harsh, bitter laugh. "Capable of? They nearly collapsed. That’s not capability—that’s stupidity. If anything, I feel bad for them."

I didn’t have time to process the sting in his words before I was being called up for my own interview.

The second I stepped forward, I could already see the smirks on the reporters’ faces.

They were waiting. Waiting for me to bite.

"Ghost, we just spoke with Jack, and he had some strong words about your decision to finish the race today—"

"Jack said you were reckless—"

"He implied he felt bad for you—"

"Do you have anything to say in response?"

I could feel the heat behind my visor—not from the temperature, but from the frustration simmering in my chest.

I could shut Jack down. I could bite back.

But that’s what they wanted.

Instead, I exhaled slowly, forcing my voice to stay calm as I answered.

"I don’t blame Jack for anything he said," I started, my tone even. "But I think the real problem is how often these kinds of comparisons are made in the first place."

The interviewer blinked, caught off guard.

I continued.

"Jack did the right thing today. He recognized his limits. He chose to put his health first. That takes strength. That takes intelligence. He made the smart call—something I wasn’t able to do."

A few reporters shifted uncomfortably at my words.

"I let my ego get in the way," I admitted, my fingers curling into the sleeves of my hoodie. "I finished the race, sure. But at what cost? I put myself at risk. I let myself believe that stopping would be a weakness, not to myself, but to the public, to you. But looking back… I think Jack was stronger than me today."

A beat of silence.

The interviewers weren’t expecting this.

They wanted drama. Fuel for a rivalry.

Instead, I had taken the wind out of their sails.

"So no, I don’t have anything to say against Jack. What I do have a problem with is the way we push drivers to view each other as competition in moments like this—when really, we should be focusing on the bigger picture. None of us should have been racing in these conditions. And Jack made the right call."

The interviewers exchanged glances, realizing they weren’t going to get what they wanted out of me.

I just stood there, breathing steadily, finally understanding what Max, Lando, and Oscar had been so pissed about earlier.

I had been an idiot. And for the first time, I was willing to admit it.

Masterlist

Taglist: @widow-cevans @honethatty12 @wierdflowerpower @imlonelydontsendhelp @thatsnotaddy @freyathehuntress @angelluv16

[thelov3lybookworm]

Journals (part 2)

Part 1

Summary: new realisations and hauntingly beautiful words

•○●⛦●○•

Word Count: 2059

Warnings: heavyyyy angst, mental health issues, depression, feeling unworthy of love, panic attack, self harm (alluded to), self hate. thats all i can think of right now, but let me know if i need to add anything

A/n: based on old poetry by @garden-of-runar 🤭i had reblogged them to my drafts on a side blog that i dont use at all, so i couldnt reblog them on my main, but i have put them in the fic, so ig that works🤷🏻‍♀️ also, if i ever write a part 3 (which i might based on feedback) azzie would be the love interest <3

ALSO MY GIRLIE IS SO TALENTED DONT EVEN GET ME STARTED I LOVE THESE POEMS 🥹

(im also tagging people who asked for a part two hope u dont mind <3)

anyways, enjoyyyy!!

°•°•°•○🌑○•°•°•°

Lying on the ground, despite how it hurt her joints sometimes, was one of Y/n’s favourite pastimes. Maybe because sometimes she did not have the energy to crawl into her bed, but that was not the point.

They hate you.

The hardness of the wood panels was oddly comforting, the way the grains sometimes raised enough for her to feel them with her fingers, the soft creaking when she stepped on them. It reminded her that she was here, that she was alive. That she was getting what she deserved for being so pathetic.

The soft mattress did not give her the same level of comfort. Sure, it was warm and cozy, but did she deserve it?

No.

You deserve this.

You deserve the worst.

Y/n sniffled, lying on her side as she lifted her hand higher next to her, dragging her nails down the planks, the feeling overwhelming in itself but better than not feeling anything. She watched her fingers jerk with the motion, pale and bloodless.

She could feel her tears collecting in a pool and seeping under her cheek. She glanced at the foot of the bed in front of her.

It looks so majestic from down here.

Do people who are worse off think the same way about me?

I don’t want them to. Because I am not worth being thought of like that.

I am nothing. I am pathetic.

It became harder and harder to take in a breath from her nose, as it continued to grow clogged from all her sobbing.

It was one of her least favourite things about crying.

Pathetic.

Stop it!

You’re pathetic. Crying over nothing.

You don’t deserve anything good.

The thoughts kept echoing in her head, louder and louder. She couldn’t breathe any longer.

And it was not because of anything physical.

Her chest began to constrict, forcing her lungs to let out precious air. She tried to breathe it back in, desperately wishing to cling to any remnants of oxygen like a child clinging to its mothers skirts.

Please. Just one inhale.

Her throat tightened.

Just one.

She gasped, futilely trying to breathe one last time to breathe before she knew she would collapse, faint because of the lack of air in her body. It gave her some reprieve, and her eyes focused back to the bed.

The longer she stared at it, the more drowsy she became. Her eyelids were drooping, and she finally, finally decided that maybe letting herself submit to her body’s needs wouldn’t be too bad, if it meant that the thoughts would stop. Maybe if she gave in to the tiredness in her bones after hours of sobbing, her mind would stop being so cruel.

Maybe it would take pity on her.

Maybe.

°•°•°•○🌑○•°•°•°

"We should go out tomorrow!"

Y/n smiled a little. A rare smile that only recently had begun showing on her face.

It wouldn’t be considered a real smile. But it was still there on her face. The tilt of her lips.

We. Not me. We.

They wanted her to be present too.

Cassian jumped up, looking at Y/n with a grin. "I always wanted to take Y/n out to Rita’s."

Her smile grew.

The other members talked, making plans for tomorrow. Slowly, the conversation spiralled, as it always did between them all.

Azriel leaned close to Y/n, whispering jokes in her ear that made her giggle. Rhysand sat on the same couch as Cassian, fighting like children. Mor sat next to Amren, amusement shining in her eyes as she added fuel to the fire, while Amren looked like she’d rather be anywhere but here.

They talked well into the night, politics, food, court gossip bleeding into one another as the time trickled by.

But the moment the conversations wandered into their future, Y/n’s smile faded. She wondered, would they want her to stay in their life?

She didn’t have to wonder long, as the words they uttered were enough to give her peace.

They talked of vacations, of parties and new traditions. Of getting married, of being with their partners. Of celebrating lives and years and months, of celebrating ends and new beginnings.

They talked, and included her.

They talked in ‘we’s’. Not in ‘me’s’.

And that was enough for her little heart to be happy.

For it to heal, for the blood to return to her face.

For her to smile, free and unbidden.

But then, time passed. And just like the sand in an hourglass trickles away, so do all good things.

As she watched, the scene changed from only housing six people in the living room, to adding three more members. And slowly, she was pushed out.

And they began talking in ‘me’s’.

Some ‘we’s’, but it never meant Y/n.

No, it meant them. Them and their partners.

It meant Feyre and Rhysand. Their new lives and baby.

It meant Cassian and Nesta. Their new mating bond and blooming love.

It meant Azriel and Elain. Their growing infatuation.

Y/n doubted the infatuation had ended, as Azriel no longer sat next to Elain at dinners. Lucien’s visits to Velaris had increased too.

But everyone’s visits to Y/n and their thoughts about her had decreased. No one seemed to remember her existence.

And she deserved it.

They chatted among themselves, and the armchair she sat on vanished from under her, leaving her standing knee deep in the freezing snow. Watching from the outside as the warm interior that had seemed so welcoming just a moment ago turned into a nightmare.

Her worst nightmare.

It left her whimpering, leaving her to curl on the cold ground.

All alone, just like she deserved.

°•°•°•○🌑○•°•°•°

It was almost sunset, and finally, Rhysand had built up the determination to read the damned journal.

He walked downstairs, peering into the living room before stepping in front of it.

Mor had departed after Y/n had left, tears in her eyes. Azriel and Cassian had been sitting in the living room for the whole two hours since then, staring into space, looking haunted and horrified at the way they hadn’t realised what was going on with their friend. Amren too, sat in an armchair in the corner, looking as unbothered as ever. But Rhys saw the cracks. The shifting eyes, the too hard hold on the book she held in her lap, the downward tilt of her lips more pronounced.

"I think it’s time we read the journal."

Four sets of eyes shot up to his figure.

"Are you sure, Rhys?" Cassian mumbled, standing up uncertainly.

Rhys nodded. "It is the only option we have."

Azriel sighed, mirroring Cassian’s movements and moving closer to Rhysand.

Feyre perked up. "What is going on Rhys?"

He clenched his jaw, guilt and regret festering in his gut. He had been so busy in his newfound happiness, so wound up in enjoying every moment with his mate that he had forgotten family. He had forgotten her to the extent his mate didn’t even know what the slight tang of copper in the air meant.

"Nothing, Feyre." He mumbled, turning away.

"Elain was asking-"

"Tell her to stop asking, then." Rhysand froze at the coldness in Azriel’s voice, his eyes going wide. Azriel never used that tone of voice with anyone outside of work, let alone Feyre.

Feyre stepped back, her calves hitting the couch as she stared at her friend in shock. "Az?"

Azriel pushed past Rhysand, making his way towards his study where the journal sat, looking as frustrated and unapologetic as ever.

After a shared glance, Rhysand and Cassian followed, Amren hot on their heels.

Azriel was already seated in one of the chairs at Rhysand’s mahogany desk, his eyes fixed on the journal that lay in the middle, his jaw clenched. He seemed to be the most affected, and Rhys only had the faintest idea why.

The four of them sat in waiting until Mor finally arrived, shutting the door behind her. Her eyes were bloodshot, and she sniffled lightly as she came to stand next to Cassian.

"Rhys, do we really have to read it? It will be an invasion of privacy."

Rhys swallowed. Thought it over. "We don’t really have a choice, do we? We need to figure out the root of this. She won’t tell us if we ask, we know that. Plus, she might already be way down the path of another breakdown after what happened today."

"That is why I think that instead of sitting around on our arses," Azriel ground out, "we should go and check up on her."

Rhys raised a brow, though concern festered in his gut. "Azriel, we’ve been through this before. She will feel worse about herself, thinking she inconvenienced us."

A muscle feathered in Azriel’s jaw, but he said nothing.

And so they began reading.

Rhysand opened a random page, his breath catching at the sudden tang of copper, and began reading. As he stared at the words before speaking them aloud, he remembered seeing the exact poem in a book he recommended to Y/n over fifty years ago.

Forgotten.That is my nameThat is the path I walkIt has been so longI don’t remember what it is like to be seenAnd I spill, my tears lining the path to the woods where my body lies,Forgotten.- from GardenofRunar

Instantly, Rhysand’s blood ran cold. He leaned back, exhaling. The pages were decorated in flowers and hearts, tiny little clouds and doodles in the margins so at odds with the thoughts spilled onto them like a hauntingly beautiful scenery.

At this point, Cassian and the others had moved to peer over Rhys’s shoulder. Rhys watched as Cassan reached over to turn the page with a shaky hand, pulling it back almost instantly as if the page had burned him. There, just above the words was a small handful of doodles, and he knew the small figures resembled the inner circle before Rhys had been taken under the mountain.

The poem was more a letter than anything, except it contained so few letters but thy hit everyone with a guilt so hard it was almost like a mountain fell onto them.

So like Y/n, to say so less yet still make an impact.

I didn’t forget about you.Can you say the same for me?Don’t bother.I know the answer.-GardenOfRunar

Under the poem, were a few words.

The poet is so talented. Every poem of them I read, it makes me want to sob.Maybe because I relate to these. Maybe that’s why.

Quiet sniffles came from Mor, but Rhys turned another page. It was the first page where blood began dotting the corners, a few drops on the center of the page veining out towards the edges, as if trying to exit but being unable to.

The almost poeticness of the sight was not lost on them. The blood droplets were almost like Y/n, trying to escape a cruel mind but unable to.

My friends are living lives, and I’m trudging through a million little days,Wasting away.- GardenofRunar

A hand snaked towards the book, slamming it shut. Rhysand jumped, his eyes flying to the owner of the scarred hand that appeared.

"Enough." His voice was still, quiet, but so cold it could freeze even the summer court over. And Rhysand knew. He was blaming himself for not paying attention to Y/n.

Rhys nodded, feeling guiltier by the second.

Everyone went back to their places, sitting in silence. Contemplating.

Wondering how they had become so oblivious to the point that they couldn’t see what was right in front of them the entire time.

The regret, the sadness was heavy in the air. It was getting hard to breathe it in.

Finally, Azriel stood, grabbing the book.

Then he turned, and walked out the door without a word, his wings pulled tight against his back.

And Rhysand wondered again.

Was this just some friendly concern, some self blame, or something else entirely?

Needless to say, suspicion took root. But guilt and hate overwhelmed it once more, and the family was left to sit and roil in it.

To wonder, how could they have been so busy that they ignored such an important part of them?

°•°•°•○🌑○•°•°•°

(ps. the first part in the memories/dreams Y/n has is based off this poem

You talk in ‘we’s’ Not ‘me’s’ And it heals my heart, just a little. Puts a smile on my face, just a little. You talk about a future One with me in it And I feel the color Return to my face. Just a little. - Runar

)

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[flowerandblood]

The Lost Haven (5/16)

[ modern mafia • Aemond x niece • female ]

[ warnings: uprotected sex, drunk sex (with consent), incest obviously, smut, fingering, the angst, panic attack, violence, bad & morally unacceptable things ]

[ description: The vacation from eight years ago still haunts his memories and doesn't let him forget what happened between him and his niece, the daughter of his sister and Harwin Strong. Their paths separate and he immerses himself in his father's mafia world until the day she calls him for the first time since those events. Sexual tension, dark, dangerous, withdrawn, thirsty Aemond. ]

Author’s note: As promised, this is another, this time official modern version of The Fall from the Heavens. In this version, Daemon is not related to the family, but is simply Rhaenyra's husband and the leader of the second gang, Alys and Larys are also not related to each other, but Larys is Harwin's brother. I will partly refer to the original series, hiding some easter eggs, and some will be a completely new, fresh plot. As in every universe, only Aemond calls her Rhaenys and this is not her real name (she is unnamed character and the others also do not know that he calls her that). There will be a lot more brutality and angst in this version, so watch out. You can read this as a standalone story.

Series & Characters Moodboard Aemond & Rhaenys Moodboard

* English is not my first language. Please, do not repost. Enjoy! *

Next chapters: Masterlist

_____

When he got up from the pier and moved ahead, he felt like his head was going to explode. He clutched at the left side of his face, his artificial eye, feeling that, as usual when he panicked, his hypersensitive nerves made him feel a stinging discomfort and pain in his eye socket.

"Come. Let's take a walk." He heard a defiant, harsh voice in front of him and raised his gaze, surprised to see Daemon's silhouette heading towards him.

"Fuck off." He hissed, wanting to avoid him, but the man's hand clamped down aggressively on his arm, stopping him in mid-step.

"We need to talk about my daughter." He said, making his heart leap into his throat, cold sweat running down his back.

"What do I have to do with her?" He asked coldly, unable to look him in the face, staring dully ahead.

"Clearly too much. So?"

He pressed his lips into a thin line, his free hand slowly moving to the back pocket of his trousers, to his penknife.

"– don't –" Daemon said.

He swallowed hard when he let go of him, turning away, moving with a lazy, slow step towards the shore. He followed him, looking around, Jace's concerned face watching them from afar.

"Don't worry. I told him to wait until we were done talking." He said, standing between the trees in such a place to be sure no one would overhear them.

"Something happened between you two eight years ago. I want to know what." He said matter-of-factly, resting the weight of his body on his left leg, looking around as if he was annoyed at being forced to converse with him.

He felt the heat of horror in his stomach at his question, as if he had been caught red-handed.

"My left eye happened to me." He growled, wanting to close the subject and get as far away from this man as possible. "Anything else?"

"My daughter put something on her mouth before we left. It must have had some glitter on it, because it sparkled. But when I saw her just now, she no longer had any lip gloss on." He said wearily, glancing at him out of the corner of his eye as if to check his reaction, his gaze piercing and sharp, making his breath get stuck in his throat.

Oh God.

Oh my fucking God.

Seeing that he stood with his lips parted, looking at him like an idiot, Daemon chuckled and shook his head in disbelief.

"I knew she was hiding something." He muttered more to himself than to him. "How long has this been going on?"

What?

"What do you mean?" He asked, feeling a rush of adrenaline at the thought that his feelings, his sickening longing and desire might have been reciprocated by her.

Daemon looked at him with reluctance and sighed heavily.

"This thing between you two. What happened eight years ago?" He asked in a voice that indicated he was impatient and was not going to ask a third time.

He hated him with all his heart and despised him, but his directness, the way he saw what was elusive to others made him think, in a fit of desperation, that he had to get it off his chest.

That maybe when he finally told someone about it, he could move on at last.

"She was afraid of the dark and would come to sleep in my room." He muttered finally.

"You used her?" Daemon asked coldly, and he snorted, feeling a cold, unpleasant shiver run down his spine.

"I think you're completely out of your fucking mind." He hissed, not knowing what to do with his terror and his trembling hands, so he reached into the pocket of his jacket again and pulled out a cigarette, putting it in his mouth with an impatient flick of his hand.

Daemon stared at him wordlessly, watching as he lit it with his lighter.

"But something happened." He finally concluded, making him laugh involuntarily, taking a deep drag.

He shook his head, grinning broadly, not believing that he was having this conversation with this bastard, who was just waiting for his father to die to take over their business.

"Maybe." He hummed, letting out a puff of smoke through his nose, looking away into the complete darkness.

"You know she went to a psychiatrist? When she was in high school." Daemon said and he froze, his hand stopped in mid-motion towards his mouth. He swallowed hard, glancing at him out of the corner of his eye, his cigarette burning slowly between his fingers.

This is when she started posting pictures of herself with these boys, he thought, feeling discomfort in his chest.

"How did she get your phone number?" He asked, snapping him out of his reverie, making his heart stop for a moment.

"What?"

"She called you even though you're not on any social media and you haven't seen each other for eight years. How did she get your phone number?"

He pressed his lips into a thin line, taking a drag on his cigarette and closed his eyes for a moment, letting the smoke out through his nose.

"I gave it to her."

"Why?"

"It's none of your fucking business."

"It's my business." He hissed.

Daemon took a step towards him, making him tense all over, ready to reach into the back pocket of his trousers if necessary.

"She's my daughter."

"She's not your daughter." He said coldly making his nostrils quiver in rage.

"You think blood ties are what make people family? Is that what your grandfather taught you? You know I used to work for him?" He asked, taking his cigarette from his hand, to his fury taking a drag on it before his eyes.

He was unable to respond, however, because what he said completely shocked him.

"Bullshit."

"Ask him. He took me in as a young boy, surely for similar tasks as you. Let me guess, you do the dirty work for him? Picking up cash from people who are late with their payment and making sure they will remember your warning well?" He sneered, hitting the cigarette with his finger, the ashes from it flew to the ground.

Daemon looked at him and smirked, seeing that he had turned pale.

Was he bluffing to get him off balance?

Perhaps he had been watching him and was now using it against him?

"You're using Jace for your own ends, and you're going to lecture me?" He growled through clenched teeth, feeling his heart pounding like mad in his chest, cold sweat running down his back.

Daemon snorted at his words, finishing off his cigarette, then threw it to the ground and crushed it with his boot.

"I gave him a choice: study and have a regular job, or work with me. He chose to work with me. What choice did Otto give you? Did he mention something about how you were already born in this world and will die in it? It would sound like him." He scoffed, putting his hands behind his back, sighing quietly.

He felt ashamed at the thought of feeling tears of humiliation under his eyelids, of feeling like a little deceived boy, someone's pawn, a dog his grandfather had let off the leash to bite someone who happened to get in his way.

It crossed his mind that he was not a human being to him.

"If you want to keep wallowing in this shit, be my guest, but stay the fuck away from my daughter or I'll kill you with my own hands." He hissed dryly and stepped around him, heading back to the building from which the loud music was coming, leaving him alone.

He drew in a loud breath as if he was suffocating and sat down on the sand, inhaling heavily, feeling that his whole body was shaking with fear.

Inhale and exhale, he repeated to himself, trying to calm down.

Inhale and exhale.

When he got up from the ground he just grunted and went back inside as if nothing had happened. His mother approached him, seeing his pale face and wide eyes.

"It's time for presents now. Did you bring what I asked you for?" She asked, clearly having in mind the books they had bought for his father, which he knew he wouldn't read anyway.

"– yes – yes, I'll bring them right away –" He muttered, noticing that his niece was not in the room.

He swallowed hard, heading for his car, escorted by the watchful gaze of his grandfather, thinking that perhaps she had gone home – he was relieved to see that Daemon's Mercedes was standing in the same place.

They were staying in hotel rooms for the night, he thought with disbelief and excitement, from which he felt ashamed.

He cursed under his breath as he closed the boot of his car and turned to see the figure of his grandfather walking towards him. He swallowed hard, correcting the packed set of books in his hands, turning his head away.

"So far there's been no bloodshed, has there? It's not so bad." He chatted him up with good-natured amusement, as if he wanted to make him laugh.

What choice did Otto give you?

Did he mention something about how you were already born in this world and will die in it?

Otto furrowed his brow, seeing the look on his face, and put his hand on his shoulder.

"I know how you feel at the sight of Luke. You want revenge. It's hard." His grandfather said calmly.

He snorted, shaking his head, realising that for the past hour he hadn't thought once about the boy who'd taken his eye from him.

He didn't give a shit.

He was small, scared, pathethic boy, nothing more.

What kind of opponent could he possibly be for him?

"It just so happened that I haven't had a chance to think about him. My head has been occupied by the people I've left behind with a few scars." He said finally in a manner from which Otto blinked, shifting from foot to foot.

"Are you overwhelmed by it? You can tell me." He said making him burst out in loud, unnatural laughter.

"Are you fucking serious?" He asked, and his grandfather shushed him, looking around.

"Keep your voice down. What's got into you now? We don't know how much time your father has left. We must watch our interests, for his death is coming whether we want it or not, and his passing will weaken us. Aegon would rather focus on running his brothel than real business, and I need you. You will replace me someday." He said, placing his hands on his arms in a way as if he was just giving him his blessing.

He stared at him in disbelief, feeling both horror and emptiness in his mind, convinced that it was Aegon who was about to take over the whole business.

The magnitude of everything that was happening around him so unexpectedly overwhelmed him, making it difficult for him to breathe.

I gave him a choice: study and have a regular job, or work with me.

"I want to study archaeology."

He heard the words leave his mouth, but he was sure it wasn't him who said them: they came out of his throat involuntarily, like the babbling of a small child.

His grandfather's reaction, the way he laughed in disbelief, shaking his head made him simply want to cry.

Otto saw it: saw the tear that ran down his face, saw his tightly clenched lips, saw his nostrils twitching with every breath.

"You're serious." He stated finally and sighed, closing his eyes.

"We'll think about it when things calm down. Maybe we can combine it with some part-time studies or night school. We'll find an understanding." He said, patting him on the shoulder, but he looked at him blankly, not seeing him.

He laughed.

It was his dream, and he laughed at it.

He stepped around him, wiping his cheek, returning to his asylum, his fortress in his mind, one that no one had access to.

His mother took their gift from him, along with a watch from Aegon and a set of fountain pens from Helaena and Otto, standing first in line to give Viserys a gift.

However, instead of focusing on his father, hardly sitting in his chair, his attention was focused on what his sister was saying to her husband behind his back.

"– she went to bed because she was feeling unwell – she said she had a stomach ache –"

"– our rooms are next to each other? –" He heard Daemon's voice.

"– yes – as we agreed – they are all double except hers –"

He swallowed hard at the thought that not only was she staying the night, but she was alone.

He thought, giving his father a gift from himself and his mother, forcing out of himself dry wishes for his health and prosperity, that he needed her like never before, that she would understand him.

She would not laugh at him.

He could still feel her plump, soft lips tasting of strawberries, and even the thought that Daemon knew he had kissed her could not make him give up the idea.

His mother insisted he stay another hour out of courtesy, so he surprised his older brother by demanding he bring them a bottle of whisky.

Aegon did so eagerly, pouring it into their glasses.

"What's the matter, brother? You seem shaken. Has the sight of your nephew roused you so? Or maybe your niece?" He asked, clinking his glass against his, tilting half of it immediately down his throat.

He took a loud sip from his glass, feeling an unpleasant sting in his chest at his words.

He did not answer.

Aegon scratched his chin, seeing the look on his face, the people around them getting drunker and drunker, dancing like it was the best night of their lives.

He couldn't believe how the people shaking this city could look so pathetic from the sidelines.

"Did you really kiss her? Then, eight years ago." He asked finally, and he froze, staring dully ahead.

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

"Well, you know. Then, during our holiday. I yelled at you like some idiot, and now I think, after all, we were just little kids. I was a terrible son of a bitch." He hummed, spreading out comfortably in his chair.

"You still are." He said dispassionately, feeling a black, boundless void in his mind, involuntarily taking another deep sip of his whisky.

Aegon looked at him for a moment in thought.

"I was jealous. You left me alone with those idiots, her brothers, while you ran around and played in the sand by yourself. You didn't even ask me if I wanted to come with you." He muttered, already a little drunk himself, turning his glass in his hands, clearly sunk in his memories.

He sighed at his words and raised his gaze to the ceiling, shaking his head in disbelief.

"Stop your bullshit. You humiliated me along with them at every turn. She was the only one who didn't do that and you're surprised it was her I ran away from you with? What fucking choice did I have? What do you all want from me? Hm?" He growled finally feeling that he was on the edge, that he was about to explode and something bad was about to happen.

Aegon swallowed hard, looking at him with big eyes, horrified.

"I'm sorry. For that joke with your boxers." He mumbled, lowering his gaze. "I regretted it later. But it was too late."

"Joke? You know what would be a really good joke? If our mother found out now that the club you so bravely run is just a cover for a brothel. That you fuck your own whores and don't even pay them for it." He said coldly with a broad grin, leaning his elbow against the back of the chair.

"Say, brother, wouldn't that be fun?" He asked, and after a moment stood up quickly, cursing loudly as Aegon vomited on the table.

His mother made him help his brother get to his room and together they walked to the reception desk, meeting his step-sister there.

"Reservation for Rhaenyra Targaryen." She said while his mother talked to the other woman about the room reserved for him and Aegon.

The thought that he was to sleep in the same space with him made him sick.

"Room 301, 302 and 303 – the key for room 301 was already handed out two hours ago." Said the receptionist. Rhaenyra nodded her head.

"Yes, yes, my daughter is already in her room, we just ask for the rest of the keys." She said.

He swallowed hard, feeling that his heart was pounding like mad at the dangerous thought that crossed his mind.

Room 301.

He carried Aegon into their room, which he had opened with a card earlier, and threw him on the bed like a sack of potatoes. He covered him carelessly with the duvet and sighed heavily, looking into the fridge, seeing a full bottle of whisky in it.

He pulled it out without thinking, opening the window wide, feeling that he was hot and cold at the same time. He unscrewed the cap from the glass bottle and took a few deep sips from it, sitting down on his bed.

Should he go to her or not?

She was probably already asleep.

Should he bother her after what he'd done to her?

What was he supposed to say to her?

Apologise?

There were no words, no sentences that could make up for the fact that he had not answered her for eight years.

He wanted to express his condolences to her after her father's death, but he didn't.

He was afraid that she would then want to renew contact, to meet up – he knew he wouldn't survive that, that it would all come back to him like a wave, that he would only ridicule himself.

He had never drank alcohol at such a rapid pace before, angry, sad, bitter, heartbroken, exhausted, always having to be the more considerate, cool, calculating brother when Aegon only lived from party to party.

He knew that his older brother, like him, could not cope with what was going on around them, with how brutal and ruthless the world they lived in was. He had witnessed several shootings in which people with whom he had been drinking shots of vodka the day before had lost their lives.

I want to study archaeology.

What the fuck had occurred to him to say that?

He felt an overwhelming shame that he had humiliated himself in front of his own grandfather, that he had shown that he was weak, that now neither he nor anyone else would respect him.

He took another loud, deep gulp of whisky at the thought, feeling the room around him become more and more blurred, his mind seeming to drift away and relax making his thoughts flow through his head like a river.

She tasted so wonderful: her lips. Her kisses were so sweet, tender, warm, moist. She must have kissed with her tongue before. With which boy for the first time? Probably with that fucking Robb, the hollow handsome guy from her year. He certainly didn't treat her well, otherwise she'd still be with him despite that photo on Facebook. Or maybe they were still together, only he didn't know it? She hadn't posted a picture with him in a year. They certainly weren't together. Fuck, how he hated him.

Had he managed to sleep with her before she realised he was a two-faced bastard? Or was she still a virgin? No, what he did to her didn't scare her, she must have had some experience. Was he tender to her? Had he prepared her well, made her all moist and eager? Did he do it slowly, did he make sure he wasn't causing her pain? Was he telling her how much he loved her, how good she made him feel?

He blinked, feeling that his cheeks were wet, that he was breathing loudly through his mouth, whooping with tears, that there were some high-pitched, squeaky sounds coming from his mouth as if he were a little boy.

I want to go to her, he thought.

I want her to hug me.

It turned out that getting out of his room and walking a small part of the corridor proved to be more difficult than he thought, because everything around him was spinning. He had no idea why he had taken his bottle with him, but he thought he felt safer with it.

Finally, he spotted the door with the number 301 in front of his face and knocked far too loudly, swallowing hard for air.

"− Rhaenys − fuck −" He muttered, feeling himself lose his balance and fall to the floor with a loud thud. He hissed, moving to the wall, leaning his head against it.

"− I want to go to sleep −" He mumbled pleadingly, wanting only to fall asleep next to her, nothing more.

He closed his eyes and hummed when he heard a quiet creak, and then her voice.

"Come."

He woke up, looking at her surprised, at her sweet, innocent face, and picked himself up quickly, too quickly, losing his balance again, falling to his knees, dropping the bottle and its contents on the floor.

"− fuck −" He cursed, trying to reach for it, but her hands tightened on his arm.

"− no − leave it − come inside −"

He was delighted to find that as he collapsed on her bed everything around him smelled of her − his erection pulsed happily at the thought, pleased as he was. He murmured when she felt him pull his shoes off his feet, making him spread out more comfortably, and then reached into his leather jacket.

"− you'll be too hot −" She whispered, and when he opened his eyes he saw her face above him in the darkness, the warm look of her gentle eyes.

He involuntarily put his arms around her waist and pulled her close making her squeal, his hand running over her wonderfully soft hair and neck.

"− come here − God, you smell so good −"He muttered with delight, in his original intention just wanting to hug her, spreading his legs apart so she could lie between them, pressed against his chest.

However, out of some natural reflex he kissed her, and as their fleshy lips pressed against each other in a loud, dirty, sticky kiss full of their tongues, his cock bumped against her belly, betraying his arousal.

"− tell me to leave −" He mumbled between one kiss and the next, stroking her fragrant hair, her back and buttocks, thinking that he didn't want to hurt her, that he just wanted to feel her, just like he did that night eight years ago when he kissed her for the first time. "− tell me to stop −"

But she didn't say anything, neither when his hands slid under the material of her panties nor when his fingers tentatively sank into her hot, silky womanhood.

She was leaking.

She whimpered into his mouth, quivering all over in his embrace as he began to play with her throbbing entrance, merely teasing it with the tips of his fingers, feeling her hard nipples pressed against his chest, slowly building hot tension in his lower abdomen.

"− shhh − easy now −" He breathed out into her mouth delighted that she was aroused, that she was all wet and thirsty for him and his caresses. His thumb pressed and stroked her bud in circular motions while the rest of his hand roamed over her hot slit, throbbing with longing.

Instead of pushing him away, she kissed him deeper and bolder, making his swollen erection painfully hard, pushing impatiently against her abdomen. He figured he had to prepare her well first for what he wanted put inside her, so he tentatively slid the tip of his middle finger into her.

She moaned loudly into his throat as he began to tease her, sliding his finger in and out, her fleshy walls soaking wet, warm and rough.

God, how he wanted to feel her.

"− uncle − we can't − we can't, we can't, we can't −" She cried out, against her words rolling her hips back and forth, falling and rising on his finger, making her moisture begin to leak onto his palm with a loud click.

"− we can − we will − we need to prepare you properly − shhh −" He gasped, soothing and hushing her like a small child. He stroked her hair with his free hand, hugging her to his chest, with the other fucking her eager cunt with his finger, rubbing his swollen manhood against her belly.

"− please − it's wrong − God, it's so wrong −" She pleaded, clasping her hands over his turtleneck, her blurry, pretty face red with exertion and desire, her sweet lips parted wide in lust while her eyes remained closed in euphoria.

We're going to fuck, he thought, sliding his finger out of her – he put his hand between their bodies, unzipping his trousers, sliding their material together with his boxers, releasing his long, throbbing erection, dripping with impatience.

"− shhh − I know, baby − I will take care of you − I got you −" He whispered, holding the base of his length with one hand, the other directing her weeping cunt at the pink head of it, opening her wide with a low groan of pleasure, throwing his head back.

She was so warm, enveloping his twitching, fat manhood wonderfully on all sides, his beautiful, beautiful niece.

"− please, Aemond, please −" She mewled into his mouth, spreading her thighs wide before him, letting him sink all the way into her flesh with one deep, slow thrust.

"− let me − I need you −" He mumbled, feeling like his cock was about to explode with arousal, imposing a fierce, violent pace on her at once, slamming into her with sure, greedy stabs of his hips, feeling like he'd lost his breath.

He concentrated only on that natural, primal reflex: thrusting, invading deep into her body, stretching her tight walls on the thick part of his erection, helping himself with his hands that held her plump buttocks in place.

His thrusts into her were more violent, deeper and faster than his slips out of her, slower and full of anticipation, and as his hips began their next movement, he sunk from the uncomfortable coldness of the room into the warm wetness of her spasming pussy again.

They both panted and moaned, trying to find a rhythm together, her hips bucking while her hands found a support on his chest, responding to each of his pushes, pounding into her throbbing cunt, clicking from her moisture, again and again.

"− I − ah − mghmmm − G-God −" She mumbled out, bursting out crying, simultaneously terrified and delighted at what they were doing exactly as he did, her buttocks slapping against his thighs, sinking him into her warmth, giving his cock a sure, thirsty squeezes.

"− thaaat's it − that's my girl − fuck, so good −" He breathed out, finding in his mind's eye that fucking her, being deep inside her, making love to her was a kind of breakthrough of sorts, taking at last what he had always wanted without regard for what he would feel tomorrow.

What he felt now was the only thing he wanted to feel for the rest of his life, and the thought of it made him feel a squeeze in his testicles indicating that he was close to reaching his peak.

He clamped his hands on her buttocks, spreading them apart with her moan of exertion, sinking into her as deeply as he could, thinking that he was about to come inside his own niece and it was going to feel so fucking good.

"− just a little more − please, just a little more − let me cum inside, baby −" He whispered tenderly, pressing her face against his neck as she whimpered loudly, calling his name, her body shook with an orgasm so strong that her pussy began to clench hard around his cock, making his warm semen simply spurt inside her.

"− God − oh my fucking God −" He muttered, closing his eyes, tilting his head back as his body shook with convulsions, experiencing the most powerful fulfilment of his entire life.

"− oh, baby −" He mumbled out, for a moment seeing only darkness in front of his eyes, completely besotted with pleasure, thrusting his hips into her for another moment with loud slaps of her moisture, feeling the remnants of his seed fill her womb.

Her womb.

Oh God.

What if she wasn't on the pill?

His drunken mind decided after a moment that it didn't matter in the slightest.

He was going to end it all, go study archaeology like she did, fuck her every day in his flat and have lots of kids with her.

Yes, he thought, feeling as calm as ever, recognising that this plan was perfect.

He hummed, pulling his leather jacket from under his back, covering their bare hips. He put his arms around her again, pressing his face against her temple, his lungs filled with the scent of vanilla, her sweat and her sweet wetness from which his thighs were all sticky.

The smell of what they'd done, how pleasant it was.

How right it was.

"− sleep − don't worry − I want this baby −" He mumbled and she just hugged him tighter, placing a soft, tender kiss on his neck, apparently not caring that his soft manhood was still gently throbbing deep inside her.

He sighed in relief, recognising that this was her answer, that she wanted to be his girlfriend again and have children with him in the future.

He closed his eyes and after a few minutes fell into a stony sleep, fulfilled and happy for the first time in eight years.

Throughout the night he could still feel the closeness of her body, her scent, her little hands embracing his waist. He pressed her face against his neck with one hand entwined in her hair, the other having slipped under her panties to feel her soft buttocks beneath his fingers, their legs entwined together on her cramped single bed.

It was so peaceful.

He woke up sensing that it was only dawn, not knowing for a moment where he was or what had happened.

The first thing he felt was her scent − he opened his eyes and then he saw it: his hand that was slipped under the material of her underwear, placed on her buttock, his unzipped trousers, her calm face pressed against his chest, sunk into a deep sleep, her hand lying on his heart.

They fucked.

He came inside her.

He had the best orgasm of his life with his own niece.

He swallowed hard, feeling that the remnants of the alcohol were still humming in his head, giving him a terrible migraine. He sighed, closing his eyes, resting his cheek against her hair, recognising that the fact that he felt no remorse after what had happened between them was evidence that he was completely out of his fucking mind.

He heard her murmur as she twisted in his embrace, snuggling her face into his neck. The knuckles of his free hand stroked her plump cheek as his lips kissed the top of her head, causing her to lift the gaze of her bright eyes to him.

They stared at each other for a moment in complete silence − her small fingers rose to his face, her thumb stroked his jaw, responding to his tender caress as he pressed his forehead against hers.

There was nothing they could say, he thought.

No words could describe what they felt, what they were experiencing deep inside themselves, what they wanted.

As she lifted herself on her arm, moving closer to his face, he reached out to touch her, and they soft mouth met in a warm, sticky, lazy kiss. Her moist lips pulled away from his with a quiet click only to cling to him again, again and again, their caresses slow, tender, full of understanding and a desire to comfort.

Their hands stroked each other's faces, her soft breasts hidden under the material of her Tshirt pressed against his chest, her scent filling his lungs completely.

He felt at peace.

He felt at home.

"I know it's wrong, but I don't regret this." She whispered between one soft kiss and the next, closing his lower lip between her mouth, sucking on it for a moment with his gasp of delight.

"Neither do I." He hummed, reciprocating by running the tip of his slick tongue over her palate, his fingers slipped under the material of her panties, digging into the smooth skin of her buttocks.

"Mmm." She purred into his mouth, enclosing his cheeks in her hands, laying on top of him, letting him use her body again to rub it against his throbbing, half-hard manhood.

"One more time?" He suggested, panting quietly, rolling his hips so that he was brushing against the space between her thighs, his hand from her buttock sliding lower again, checking her condition. He grinned under his breath as he felt her warm wetness under the tips of his fingers, sliding one of them slowly into her hot, throbbing flesh.

"− look at you − all sticky −" He gasped in delight between their one messy, loud kiss and another, their desire-swollen lips beginning to devour each other in the chaos of their tongues and teeth, her moans sweet and vulnerable, doomed to give him what he wanted.

"− you − you on top −" She mumbled, and he sighed, immediately turning her onto her back, slipping her panties off her hips in a nimble, quick motion.

He didn't want to take away her sense of security or expose her completely, so he decided not to undress her or himself, for now, just wanting to feel her again.

"− come here − just like that, spread 'em wide −" He praised her, releasing his swollen erection from his trousers, seeing how her thighs instantly opened out to the sides in front of him, showing him her glistening pink folds, from which his pearly semen leaked.

"− what a sight − I will make sure I've filled you properly −" He gasped, and she nodded, her hands clenched on the pillow on either side of her head, her mouth parted wide in a heavy, excited breath.

They both groaned pathetically as, with the help of his free hand, using the other to support his balance, he directed the fat, dripping head of his cock against her throbbing slit, pushing between her hot opening with a soft, slow thrust.

Her walls, hot and leaking with her moisture, made an involuntary resistance to the thickest part of his manhood − she whimpered quietly with effort, throwing her head back, spreading her thighs wider to make the task easier for herself and him, wanting to take it inside.

"− it hurts? −" He muttered, and she shook her head, clenching her eyes, struggling to fit what was just tearing into her body.

He leaned over her, as with a deep, lazy thrust of his hips he slid all the way into her with their sigh of exertion, feeling his erection pulsing all over, embarrassingly close to fulfillment now that he was sober.

"− I'm going to start moving now − okay? −" He asked, and she nodded quickly, raising her hands to his cheeks, pulling him close to her making, together with the movement of his hips, their lips join in a hot, tender kiss.

They panted into each other's throats, their foreheads pressed together as he imposed a sharp, slow pace on her, building the path to their fulfilment with each push, making sure he pounded into her at such an angle as to tease each time a little spot deep inside her, just above her entrance.

"− feels good? −" He exhaled, looking down at her, at her pretty, flushed face, at her hair scattered in disarray around her head, at her puffy, sweet lips parted in deep breaths, swollen from his caresses.

He wanted to make sure he wasn't hurting her, that she wasn't doing it out of fear but because she was just as desperate as he was.

"− yes − yes, Aemond, so, so good −" She mumbled sweetly, tilting her head back, letting him press his lips against her long neck, leaving hot, wet marks on her skin while her eager, slick cunt gave him a greedy, tender squeezes, sucking him deep inside her fleshy core. He moaned low feeling it, involuntarily speeding up, thrusting into her faster and faster with loud slaps of their hips.

Her fingers tightened on his shoulders, her body rocked to the rhythm of his thrusts, coming out to meet him willingly, his swollen, throbbing cock all soaked in their shared wetness, making her little pussy click every time he opened her on the widest part of his manhood.

"− just like that − just a little more − your uncle is close −" He exhaled in delight, feeling the tension in his lower abdomen reach its zenith, his whole body tense, coming closer with each push of his hips to the fulfilment he so needed, the bed beneath them began to creak loudly.

His hands slid under her buttocks, clamping down on her warm, soft skin, squeezing them towards each other so that they pressed down on his quivering erection, making her almost painfully tight.

"− fuckkk −" He cursed, biting his lower lip to keep from making any loud noise, hearing her moans of pleasure, her body quivering in fulfillment as her wetness ran down from her pulsing folds onto the sheet beneath them.

He had to cover her mouth with his hand, hearing movement in the corridor around them, knowing that everyone was getting up to go to breakfast, but he only wanted one thing: to come deep inside her.

He sighed and groaned quietly, surprised how a strong shudder shook his body, his eyebrows arched in pain and pleasure as he felt his seed fill her again, again, again, again, making her his, only his.

"− you are my ruin −" He gasped, rolling his hips back and forth, sinking into her beloved, soaked cunt for a moment longer, feeling wonderful waves of hot fulfilment surge through his body.

He collapsed on top of her, panting heavily, together with her just lying there, trying to calm his breathing. He thought, cuddling his face into her welted, sweaty cheek, that being deep inside her felt somehow strangely natural.

Strangely right.

"Are you taking pills?" He asked finally, swallowing hard. He felt her body tense up, her fingers involuntarily clenching on the material of his black turtleneck.

"No."

He nodded, his thumb running over her cheek, wanting to let her feel that he had reckoned with that option when he did what he did.

Twice.

"It's your body. But know that I'd like to be the father of your child. Someday. You decide when. If ever." He whispered in her ear, placing a soft, moist kiss on her cheek.

He heard her swallow hard, clearly completely shocked by his words.

"I…I don't know what I'll do yet. I need to think about it." She finally muttered, obviously not knowing how else she could respond to his confession without offending him. He sighed quietly at her words, feeling a cold squeeze in his chest.

"Let me know when you've made your decision about...you know. Please."

"So that you won't answer me?" She asked in a trembling, breaking voice.

He raised himself on his arm, wanting to look at her face, but she turned her head in the opposite direction, her eyes glazed from tears, her quivering lips clenched into a thin line.

"I'll. I swear I'll. Hey. Hey, look at me." He whispered, cupping her cheeks between his fingers, gently turning her face towards him, tear after tear began to run down her cheeks as her eyebrows arched in pain.

She didn't believe him and he didn't blame her.

"I mean it. I swear. I…" He didn't finish as they both flinched when someone started pounding on her door with their fist.

"Open up." He heard Daemon's voice and immediately slid out of her, fastening his trousers in a hurry, terrified, her eyes big as she quickly grabbed the material of her panties and put them on her thighs.

"Wait a minute!" She called out, handing him his jacket and shoes.

"Hide in the toilet." She whispered to him and he nodded, immediately locking himself in the small room, trying not to make a sound.

Fuck.

After a moment, he heard her open the door, Daemon's voice loud and clear.

"Get changed, we're leaving immediately." He said.

"But why so sudden? I'd like to have breakfast. Has something happened?"

"Viserys is dead."

[grandline-fics]

Hello! I just found your blog and I am reading everything that you have (while working🤐)

I have to say I am in love with your writing. You are amazing, can't put the phone down.

I would love to be in the tag list for everything that you will write in the future.

Also if you don't mind can I ask for the Promp "Conforting Kisses" where the reader had a nightmare of the getting badly hurt and they give them kisses to forget maybe?

If you can do it for Luffy, Ace and Shanks I will be thankful for ever. If you don't want to write it is okey💕

Hope you have a great day! 💕

Thank you again for writing💕💖

DESCRIPTION: Prompt: Comforting Kisses

WARNINGS:  descriptions of injury, mentions of death. slight angst. hurt to comfort

CHARACTERS: Luffy, Shanks

WORDS: 1,340

A/N: Thank you so much for your support and this request! I made a mistake and mis-read it to think you wanted the reader to do the comforting. I also only managed to get something for Luffy and Shanks for this but I hope this is still to your liking and you enjoy how it turned out.

*REQUESTS ARE OPEN*

DIRECTORY | PROMPT LIST

———————

LUFFY

He was so much stronger than he had been when you first met and joined him on the crew. Luffy had spent two years under Rayleigh’s instruction to ensure he’d never lose anyone else close to him again. So now why was he staring in horror, completely helpless and unable to intervene as you were overwhelmed by multiple heavy hitting opponents he’d defeated in the past. Each one got hit after hit on you, ignoring Luffy’s yells for them to leave you alone. As strong as a fighter as you were normally you were no match against these monsters striking all at once. You didn’t even seem to notice Luffy as he screamed and struggled to get to you. The Captain could only watch as your attackers fell back into shadows while you fell to your knees as a wave of Magellan’s poison and Akainu’s magma came crashing over you.

Luffy awoke with a shuddering gasp, limbs locked tightly and body trembling as the cold sweat broke over his skin. With every rapid breath he took, the images he’d just detached himself from flashed in his mind in the dark. Every desperate gulp of air just brought more of a panic, drawing him back to the darkest, lowest point in his life when he’d realised he was weak and couldn’t save his brother. What would he do if he lost you? Before a new panic could set in, he caught the sound of soft footsteps approaching. Immediately he was out of bed and approaching the door, opening it before you could even knock. “Oh, couldn’t sleep either Lu-”

Before you could finish your question, Luffy had his arms out like a shot and pulled you against him. Laying his head against your chest the sound of your heartbeat finally began to ground him, rooting him in reality and not the horrible nightmare that still clung to him. You’d initially tensed at the hug Luffy drew you into, not because of it being unexpected-it wasn’t given how affectionate he was with everyone-but because of how timid he seemed. This wasn’t a usual Luffy hug, filled with warmth and happiness. As you wrapped your arms around his shoulders you could feel the tremor in his frame and took note of how every so often his arms would try to pull you closer. Angling one hand you settled your finger’s against the back of his head, moving in gentle motions to help him relax from whatever nightmare he’d clearly had. 

Lightly you pressed a kiss against the top of Luffy’s head, a small smile tugging at your lips when Luffy slowly lifted his head to meet your gaze. It was reassuring to see he seemed more himself albeit still a little shaken. “Can you do that again? Felt nice.”

“Sure.” Leaning forward you pressed a longer but just as gentle kiss against his forehead, your smile growing to hear and feel Luffy’s body relax from the comforting action. You pulled back to watch him carefully. “Ready to go back to bed? I can stay with you if it helps.”

Unsurprisingly Luffy’s gaze hardened at the suggestion. He was tired, he wasn’t going to lie but at the same time he hesitated. The last thing he wanted was to have that nightmare all over against your offer of staying helped him greatly. 

Together you moved back into Luffy’s room and lay down in the bed. Taking naps with Luffy was never anything new but since starting a relationship with him this was the first time you were going to spend the night in his bed. As much as you didn't like the circumstances that led to this but you couldn’t deny how right it felt to lie in Luffy’s arms, pressing comforting kisses against his head as he fell asleep to keep his nightmares away. 

SHANKS

Shanks knew this image well. Loguetown’s town square filled to the brim of people, their heads turned towards the towering execution block and awaiting the procession to appear on the top podium. Overhead thick grey clouds quickly swept in and darkened the clear morning, rain falling heavily as the winds began to shriek. Shanks lifted his arm to shield his eyes, his gaze firmly on the Marines who appeared. Your name was shouted out for the audience to hear and immediately Shanks’ body froze when the two Marines stepped aside and you were roughly shoved onto your knees. 

Your body looked so frail and small on top of the execution block. Even from where he stood he could see the bruises and cuts against your body as you knelt, hands held firmly by the heavy iron shackles and chains. Shanks quickly began to push through the crowd, trying to get to you but for every person he moved out of his way more replaced them. No, this couldn’t be happening. While the two Marines drew their weapons in preparation of what was to come, another stepped forward to begin calling out the charges. 

“You have been found guilty for aiding and abetting, harbouring, and consorting with known Pirate Emperor Red Hair Shanks on multiple accounts spanning years. For this clear defection of the World Government’s rule and repeated alliance with dangerous criminals we can only treat you as a pirate and deem only one punishment is suitable; death.” Over the pelting rain and thunder, Shank’s yell for you was swallowed and you defeatedly hung your head. Your eyes slid closed as you waiting the swinging of the blades, arcing straight for you. 

Shanks woke sharply, a deep pit of ice twisting painfully in his stomach as his heart thundered loudly in his ears. It was so incredibly rare for Shanks to feel powerless or weak, he couldn’t remember the last time he’d had a nightmare and any that came to mind paled in comparison to what he’d just seen. He’d never allow any harm to come to you, in all the years he’d known you and loved you he’d made sure the Marines and any pirate rivals he had knew nothing about you. Glancing down he saw you sleeping peacefully against his chest. Logic told him you were fine, you were safe. He could feel your warmth and feel your soft breath against his skin but still it couldn’t replace the images of your beaten body about to be put to death. 

Knowing it was irrational and stupid, he couldn’t help himself. Lightly he spoke your name and gently shook your shoulder. Immediately you stirred, a hum of sleep thickened confusion breaking from your lips. Shifting so you were on your stomach you blinked through the haze and looked to Shanks in sleepy concern, knowing he’d never wake you unless it was necessary. “Shanks? What’s wrong?”

“Sorry love, really I am.” Shanks explained softly, letting his fingers gently move in soothing patterns against your skin. Seeing you awake and hearing your voice already doing wonders to dispel the hurt his subconsciousness had created. “Had a bad nightmare. Just needed you.”

Immediately your gaze sharpened enough and you nodded in understanding. It wasn’t often but anytime you had a nightmare and Shanks was there he’d wake and be there with you until you’d calmed. Now it was your turn. 

Slowly you pulled yourself up and inched closer. With a feather-light touch you pushed the stray strands of red hair from his face before caressing his jaw. Leaning in you pressed sweet, caring kisses against his face. You started at his eyes, paying close attention to his scars before moving to his temple, then the bridge of his nose, his cheeks before finally settling your lips against Shanks’ pulling him into a deep, tender kiss, clearing the remnants of his nightmare away. Breaking apart you lay your forehead against Shanks’, smiling when he lifted your hand to his mouth, kissing your wrist, a clear sign he was becoming more like his usual self. “When the crew and I leave this time, you want to come with me?”

——————————————-

TAG LIST (If I’ve missed anyone or if you want to be added just let me know) @3v37773, @tsaaps , @i-am-all-love-puns-and-lazy , @sanemisnonexistenteyebrow , @fiery-captain-spider-santa, @kabloswrld , @atanukileaf , @ane5e , @stuckinthewrongworld , @deathsmajestysworld , @cloudysunset04 , @chillerkiller , @extremely-ashtridic , @decayingpizza , @liesatemyocean , @ace-for-ace , @nerium-lil , @destynelseclipsa , @dreamcastgirl99 , @my-name-is-heartache , @iamn1ya ,  @yunho-leeknow , @hinata7346 , @h0oouwlss , @missrandomdreamer , @sleepykittycx , @ddawn111 , @jaygrl22 , @sylum , @acehyacinth , @resident-cryptid , @treelogirl , @maellem , @its-a-dam-blue-brick , @thulhu , @appalost , @dindjarins1ut , @irumawife , @laidenbreecatchall

[fanfics-i-find-here]

Do I know You? Part 10

Jason Todd X Reader

Synopsis: Jason takes care of you.

Notes: I have seriously hyped up this chapter because I’m in love with it actually. It’s a very comforting moment after what our girl has just been through. She has one panic attack but it’s okay because Jason’s there. There is some semi-nudity but nothing sexual. This is very, very intimate(again not sexually though). Enjoy!!

Warnings: one Panic attack, semi-nudity

Masterlist

You pick at your hands, trying to scrap the blood from under your nails when your eyes catch movement, glancing up and dropping your gaze when you notice it’s a body bag. In a matter of minutes, you hear a familiar voice questioning several officers.

“Where is she? Is she okay?” You look up and spot Jason quickly following the commissioner towards you. For the first time in what feels like hours you stand up and take only a few steps forward before Jason is hugging you. He cradles the back of your neck avoiding your head. His other hand takes to gently sweeping up and down your back. A well of emotions exploded from your chest and your sobbing again, Jason’s shirt becoming wet with it. Despite the jacket and blanket on your shoulders, you’re suddenly aware of how cold you still feel as you press your face to the warm skin on Jason’s neck. If he thinks you feel like an ice cube, he doesn’t complain

He quietly coos at you, whispering soft calming words. You zone back out again, only focusing on Jason holding you as he slowly leads you to a car. The commissioner stops and talks to him for a moment and if you were more conscious you may have questioned it more.

“Be Careful. Red Hood was here, and she lived to talk about Penguin. News travels fast in Gotham. We don’t want bodies piling up again.” He gives Jason a meaningful nod before returning to police duties. Jason shakes his and continues to guide you to a car (a quick borrow from Bruce out of hidden garage in the area). Even when Jason was Robin, he always had the feeling that the commissioner knew everything about the family’s nightly activities and that for the sake of his own job never vocalized anything about it. Comments like these felt like they proved that point.

Jason takes his time leading you, mindful of icey patches. Your absent stare from earlier was still present and it worried him. He had attempted to wipe as much blood off of you with the sparse medical supplies he had in his belt. Gauze were used to soak up the blood and wipe you clean, but he didn’t want to hurt you by wiping too hard. Streaks of now dried blood remained on your arms, but your face seemed clearer and your nose was no longer bleeding. He was sure you were very uncomfortable.

 He opened the passenger door and helped you slide into the seat. You tense as you sit back, and he can only assume you’re a little more hurt than the mild concussion he was told about. You sit passively in the seat, making no move to do your seatbelt. He squats down and slowly reaches for the seatbelt, pulling it over your lap. However, your hands stop him. You look up to meet his eyes. There’s a pleading look there but he’s unsure what about. He glances back down at your hands and follows the line to your wrist. He can see it now. You had been tied up.  Your wrist, redder than the other exposed parts of your skin. He had thought it was more blood. Now a slow bruising started to show on your skin, darkening slowly. He understands the pleading look and doesn’t fight you over the seatbelt, letting it slide back into place.

“You going to get me in trouble, sweetheart. The cops are right there.” He says softly and he feels like his chest is going to crack open when you give him a weak smile. He stands and your hand latches onto his. He remembers the panicked look you had given Red Hood when he said he had to leave. He has never wanted to carve his heart out and give it someone more than he did in that moment. He knew you had abandonment issues. Way back when this thing you two have had started, you thought he wasn’t going to come back, and he’s seen you have same thought process a few different times. It hurt that he had to be part of the problem. Red Hood had to be part of the problem. Jason, however, was not going to let you feel like that.

“I’m just going to walk around to the driver’s side. You can watch me through the windows.” He offers and your hand slowly loosens up and settles in your lap. He closes your door and moves quickly around the car and into the driver’s seat. He starts the car and blasts the heat. He hadn’t missed how cold your face was pressed against his neck and your hands were the same when you grabbed him. It worried him, like everything in the past four hours had. He gently slides his hand around your nearest hand, squeezing at your frozen fingers and trying to get you to look at him. Your head moves sluggishly but you finally meet his eyes. Your own are bloodshot but you look nearly cried out and on the brink of a well-deserved nap.

“I need to know where you live so I can take you home.” He says, gently massaging your hand. You stare at him but still have consciousness for the barest of warmth to flutter across your cheeks. You had hoped that maybe you would move before you brought Jason to your home. Then you wouldn’t have to admit that he had been parking in front of your building, and you had lied about living further down. You don’t have the energy to be embarrassed now.

“It’s where you park.” You murmur looking away from him. You focus on his hand holding yours. Warm, sturdy, present. He was here. He was real. He was taking care of you. He doesn’t question what you mean, briefly letting go of your hand to put the car in drive before holding your hand again. You easily lay your head against his upper arm, mindful of your twinging back. The car is quiet as he drives, and your eyes flutter closed for what feels like a second before he’s gently nudging you. He’s parked in the same spot he always does, and a moment of awareness crosses your mind that you’re in a car not on a bike. He’s out the door and you’re cold again. But he’s back at your side in seconds, helping you out of the car and up the steps into the apartment building. He guides you to the elevator and you finally sense hesitancy in his movements. You press the 6 for him and settle your weight against his side, sleepiness calling to you again. The elevator dings and it takes him pressing a hand to your lower back for you to start moving again.

 You walk dazed and come to stand at your door, staring at the knob. You didn’t have your keys. They were in your bag, and you had lost that. Jason’s hand comes into your line of vision along with your keys. He tries a couple on the chain before the one for your door meets the lock. You only stare in confusion. He opens the door and must sense your hesitancy.

“They found your bag and keys at the warehouse.” He states before his hand is on your elbow, gently pulling you forward. He closes the door and moves around you pulling the shock blanket and leather jacket from your shoulders and helping you take off your shoes. You shiver and he’s quick to rub at your arms.

“We should get you clean.” Your face scrunches because all you want to do is sleep. His thumb gently rubs at your cheek. “Trust me. It’ll help you feel better in the morning.” He tugs you again, more into your apartment and down the hallway towards your bedroom and bathroom. He turns on the light for the first door and leads you to sit on the toilet in the bathroom. He kneels in front of you with a hand on your knee.

“You want a bath or a shower?” He asks. You stare at him blankly, the terrors of the night starting to creep in your mind. You choose to focus on him, his features, his touch. Your hand comes up and you press the tips of your fingers against the scar on his cheek, following the line of it. He breathes in a strange way that you’ve never heard from him.

“How ‘bout a bath? I don’t think you could stand long enough for a shower.” You nod at his thought process, still focused on his skin. His hand comes up to hold at your wrist, pulling your hand away to rest in your lap again. He stands to turn on the faucet of the bathtub. Soon the room begins to feel warm and humid.

“I’ll be right outside the door if you need anything.” Your hand shoots out to grasp at his tightly despite your weakened state. He doesn’t flinch, just kneels back down in front of you.

“What is it?” He speaks softly, with all the concern in the world and it eats at your chest. You don’t want to be alone; you need someone present.

“Please,” your voice wobbles and you hate it, “don’t leave.”

“I’m going to be just outside the door. I want to give you some privacy.” He says, pushing at your hair. You don’t listen because all you can think about is how Red Hood left you out on the street and you don’t think you could deal with that heartache right now. You stare at him with all the energy you have, hoping he’ll understand. He concedes with a sigh.

“I’ll close my eyes.” He says and your blank stare returns because you’re not cognitive enough to understand what he’s saying. “To undress.” he adds, glancing at the water filled tub. You follow his line of sight, remembering you were in this room for a purpose. You lift your arms slightly and wince. The ache in your back and head doubling at the movement. You hadn’t reached for your shirt, so Jason hadn’t closed his eyes.

“Do you want help?” he asked carefully. Your eyes meet his and you search, worried you’d find that same lustful gaze that the other man had. Jason’s eyes held no such malice. There was no spark of an opportunity to get an eyeful. He just looked concerned. The same kind Jason you’ve been slowly falling for. You nod slowly, with a little shame that you can’t undress yourself.

Jasons hands move slow. They hover over your thighs before settling on your hips. His warm hands skim under the hem of your top and settle against the skin above the waistband of your pants. You watch him and he watches you. You keep waiting for the ball to drop, waiting for a glimmer of want in his eyes. It never comes.

“Is this okay?” he asks and your heart aches from the gentle way he speaks and holds you. You nod, swallowing harshly around the knot in your throat. He guides one side of the shirt up, mindfully keeping his hand off of your skin. He helps you pull your arm out of the shirt, apologizing when you wince. He repeats the process on the other side and finally slides the shirt over your head. You’re wearing a ratty, old bra and feel a little embarrassed for a moment but Jason’s eyes never drift from your face. His hand still holds one of yours. He stands and tugs you with him.

“Think you can do your pants?” he asks.

Your voice shakes as you respond, “yea.” You drop your eyes to the buttons on your jeans. You tug them down your hips, keeping your underwear in place. You feel the heat of his hovering hand next to your arm. As you push the pants to your knees you start to lose your balance, blood rushing to your head from being momentarily upside down. Jason’s quick to steady you, like always. You stand back up. He doesn’t say anything as you blink away the dizziness. You think you should feel ashamed that you can’t take care of yourself at the moment but Jason’s face holds no judgement. You want to cry again from the tender care in his eyes.

“Will you?” you ask quietly. He nods and kneels back down. Despite where his face would meet if he looked forward, he keeps his head ducked respectfully. Eyes on your pants he tugs them past your knees and to your ankles. He taps one of your knees and you press your hands to his shoulders, not wanting to lose balance, as you lift your leg. He repeats the process on the other leg and your jeans join your shirt on the corner of the bathroom. He gives your calf a tender squeeze before he’s standing again, eyes on your face.

“Okay?” he asks

“Yea” your answer is weak, and it has nothing to do with the events prior to the apartment. His ever-gentle hands help you into the tub. You hiss slightly from the heat of the water, body still fairly cold. You sit down and pull your knees to your chest. You rest your cheek against your knee as you watch him ruffle through your cabinets. You feel weepy again, out of gratitude instead of fear, as he comes back with a wash clothe and the cup you use to rinse after you brush your teeth. He settles them on the edge of the tub.

“You should lay back. The heat might help with your back a little bit.” He says as he sits criss cross next to the tub. You nod and slowly tip back, the heat slowly creeping up your back does feel nice. His hand is suddenly at the base of your skull, and you don’t understand why until you rest against his hand and the tub itself. A tickling of pain shoots through your head no doubt dampened by the cushion of his hand. You had a concussion. At least someone remembered. Your eyes slide shut, and you will your body to relax in the heat for a minute.

After a few minutes Jason begins to worry that you had fallen asleep, in the tub of all places. If this had been literally any other situation, he would be losing his mind. You were practically naked in a tub of water. Any other guy would be taking advantage of eyeing you up and he would be too, in a very, very different instance. But he would never do that to you, especially after the night you had. He watches your face and even though the rest of your body seems to have relaxed in the water, your features twitch. Laying in the tub against his hand probably was not the most comfortable position for your injuries. He rubs at your hair where his fingers rest.

“Feeling any better?” He asks you to which you respond in kind with a nod. He is a little worried that he can only get nods and short answers from you but he’s sure you’re exhausted.

“We should get you clean and into your much more comfortable bed.” Your eyes flutter open as he presses you up. Your hand wraps around his other arm that was resting on the edge of the tub as you lift yourself. You curl back in yourself, knees dragged up again. He eyes all the bottles in your shower. He’d rather get what remained of the blood off of you and call it a night, but you had blood in your hair too and a simple rinse wasn’t going to do the job. He finally finds a shampoo bottle. He picks up the cup he found on the counter and scoops up a cup full of water and dumps it on the back of your head. Your neck straightens as you turn to look at him. He can’t read your expression, and it drives him crazy. The entire night you’ve had a blank face, like you don’t have the energy to emote.

“I’m gonna wash your hair, okay?” You stare at him a little longer before turning your head forward and tipping it back. He takes it as your agreement, scoops up some more water and dumps it around the hair faming your face. He squirts a very generous amount of shampoo in his palm. Your lip quirks as you watch him from the corner of your eye. He’ll take it as a win even though he doesn’t know what’s amused you. You turn your head so you’re facing the wall, and he has clear access to the back of your head. He rubs the shampoo in a lather and starts to gently run it through your scalp. He takes his time at the top, working down. Your shoulders tense as his fingers circle near the bump on the back of your head. He works around it and then rubs the shampoo into the lengths of your hair. He hears you sniffle quietly but doesn’t question it. He takes his cup and gently rinses the soap, gently turning your head this way and that way, careful not to get soap on your face. He spots a body wash and soaks the washcloth he had found before rubbing that.

 You watch him with sleepy eyes as he turns your face towards him and rubs gently with the corner of the rag.  For a moment your mind flashes to Red Hood with whatever material he was using to get rid of the blood that had been harsh against your skin. You push the thought aside once again focusing on Jason. His face concentrated. He was handsome, rugged and regal looking all at once. The rag is settled on your knee once he seems pleased with the soap on your face. His hand dunks in the water and then he’s gently caressing your face. Your eyes shut as he wipes at your forehead and down your face, carful touches at your eyes and brushes at your neck.

He pulls your arm from where you hold your leg, and the rag is off your knee. He moves it up and down your arm, starting at your shoulder. You watch as the previously dried blood wipes off easily. He soaked you like a dirty pan. The thought makes a quiet giggle start in you. Jason gives you a strange look and then you can’t stop. You erupt in heavily laughter and tears spring up in yours. It only takes a few seconds but laugh changes to gasped breaths, a harsh weight on your chest. Tears stream down your cheeks again but you’re barely conscious of it because you can’t breathe.

You barely register a harsh squeeze on your knee before there are hands on your face. Thumbs rub at the skin on your cheek, and you can barely make out the blob that is Jason through your blurry vision. You try to focus on him. Your hand wraps around one of his wrists and your nails dig into his pulse point as you try to ground yourself. His voice filters into your ears.

“Breathe, Sweetheart, you’ve gotta breathe. Come on.” His free hand grabs your own and presses your flat palm to his chest. You can feel his heart beating and his chest moves as he breathes. You try to copy him with a stuttering gasp. You slowly become conscious of your surroundings again. His thumb on your cheek. The water you sit in slowly turning warm instead of hot. The hum of the bathroom fan. Your breathing slows but your grip on his wrist remains firm.

“There you go, atta girl. Just keep breathing” You lean against Jason’s hand and close your eyes focusing on his breath and your own. If you thought, you were exhausted before you were wrong.

You desperately need sleep Jason decides. He thinks that’s why you had the panic attack in the first place, exhaustion and stress over taking your sense. He coaxes you to release the grip you have on his wrist so he can clean that arm. You keep a grasp on his shirt though. He rinses you off as quick as he can. He does a once over to make sure you’re as clean as he could get you at the moment. Your wrists have bruised up and there were scraps on your knuckles. Some minor first aid would be smart, but it would have to wait til morning. He pries your hand from his shirt and holds it in his as he reaches back and tugs a towel from its rod. He pulls the plug from the drain and pulls you stand. You’re weak and leaning on him as he helps you step out of the tub. The front of his shirt soaked from where you lay. You shiver and he wraps the towel around you. He gives you a harsher than necessary rub but he’s trying to keep you awake long enough to change into dry underwear and warm pajamas.

He guides you out of the bathroom and into the bedroom and sits you down on your bed. It’s different than the last time he had been in there as Red Hood. No messy piles of clothes, only the cleanliness he was use too. He picks though your drawers and pulls out some fuzzy matching pajamas and he tries not stare at your underwear draw too long. He sets the clothes next to you. He wonders if you’ve fallen asleep sitting up, your eyes closed. He taps at your shoulder and your eyes open, half-lidded.

“Clothes” he offers. You nod but make no move. He remembers your struggle with your shirt. He slips the pajama top over your head as you stare at him. He pulls your hair from where it’s tucked. He pauses before he tries for your arms. You still had a wet bra on. He couldn’t let you sleep in that.

“You need take your bra off.” He tries to be delicate but there’s no way around it. You blink at him. He stares back. Theres a pause before your arm bends back awkwardly and you wince. Jason face scrunched in confusion. You stop your movement and stare at him.

“I can’t” He understands now. What idiot put the bra clasp in the back he didn’t know. He climbs on the bed behind you. He lifts the back of your shirt slightly and stares at the clasp. Jason would hate to admit it out loud, especially to you considering whatever your relationship was, but he had never taken bra off of a girl. This was the first time he was up close and personal to one and he wishes it was under different circumstances. He leans to look closer at it and pulls it off your skin. He folds it slightly and sees the hooks. After a minute he finally gets it undone and you easily slip it off of your shoulders. He pulls the shirt down and pulls your arms through the sleeves, careful not to touch any unnecessary skin.

He stands in front of you again. You still have that dazed, sleepy look in your eye but you still have the towel settled around your hips. He sighs

“Sweetheart, I can’t help you with this one.” You squint at him. He glances at the towel, and you follow his line of site. You nod in understanding. You pat at the bed until you find the pair of clean underwear. You pause before moving the towel and look at him, waiting. He gets the message, turning around, closing his eye and covering them with his hand for good measure. He hears you shuffle around the bed, no doubt sitting to change your bottoms instead of standing.

“Okay” you say, sounding out of breath and exhausted. When he turns around, you’re laid back on your bed, legs dangling over the edge and eyes closed. Your undergarments are nowhere in sight so he can only assume you threw them somewhere.

“Don’t fall asleep yet. Let’s get you under the covers.” He says. Your face scrunches like you’re going to whine about it, but you let him gently man handles you up and under the covers of your bed. By the time he has you tucked in your fluttering between awake and asleep, eyelids staying closed longer than open. His hand presses at your face tenderly and then the warmth of it is gone. Your eyes open to see him drifting to the door.

“Wait,” you call out weakly. He pauses, turning back towards you, you can see a fond look cross his face while he waits for you to speak. “Stay, please” you scoot over in your queen-sized bed. It was large enough you could span out eagle style, but you get the feeling it may be too small for Jason. You just didn’t want to be alone. He concedes without complaint, laying on top of the covers beside you. You turn on your side, curling in on yourself and against him. Your hand pops out from under the covers and curls around his forearm, his own mimics you. You close your eyes and carefully press your face against his arm.

“Thank you” you murmur, already drifting in unconsciousness. He doesn’t say anything, but you feel him squeeze your arm before you’re completely out.

Additional note: Yea so I love him. I hope the comfort lives up to what guys wanted after the last chapter. Also, I would like to apologize, I told a bunch of people it would be out Saturday, and I am posting it Sunday morning. I had COVID all of this last week, stuck in my apartment by myself. So obviously the days don’t exist. Anyways sorry about that. Also the amount of times I had to walk away because I felt like I was witnessing someone else's private moment was insane. Thank you for reading and for loving on this series.

Tag List: @little-miss-naill, @nikilolo787, @joonunivrs, @uzxotic, @qardasngan, @stormz369,  @g4bbi3xx, @iwatobiswimbros, @the-lonely-flute, @elz-xo, @gone-batty-fics, @princessesgarden, @notfckincreative, @love-theangel, @feyres-fireheart, @tetsuroubaby 

[bunnliix]

When Eight Becomes Nine - Chapter Fifteen

This one took so long, and I blame school and writer's block, but there is much angst and fluff in this chapter!

Pairing: Ateez x 9th member!reader  Summary: What happens after everyone fell asleep, with a couple of cute moments wc: 1.5k AU: a/b/o  Genre: Fluff/Angst  warnings: mxm, reader needing a moment to process, panicking, kinda panic attacks, crying, yelling, sadness, falling onto the floor, I think that's it? masterlist

Yunho and Mingi were the first two awake and as such, found the rest of the group in their piles in the living room. At the sound of their footsteps, Jongho’s eyes slowly opened, widening further at the sight of the tall duo not far from him.

“Hi hyungs,” he whispered, trying not to wake any of the others, though it was enough noise to cause Hongjoong to move around in his lap, though he didn’t wake up.

“Hi Jongho-yah. You convinced hyung to sleep?” Yunho asked the younger man, getting a nod in response.

“I said I’d keep watch over everyone,” Jongho replied, as their pack alpha shifted once again, moving to sit sideways in the youngest’s lap, his head now resting on Jongho’s chest, over his heart.

The alphas moved closer to their youngest mate, smiling down at him, while Yunho reached out to run his fingers through the beta’s hair. This sensation made Jongho purr lightly, tilting his head back.

“Our cute baby beta,” Mingi whispered, smiling.

“Not cute,” Jongho retorted.

“D’finitely cute,” Hongjoong mumbled, waking up.

“Hyung,” The trio said in unison, surprised to see their captain awake.

Without saying anything in response, Hongjoong leaned up, pressing a kiss to Jongho’s lips and smiling as their lips connected. Jongho was surprised for a moment, but quickly melted into the kiss with his alpha, he had missed moments like this in the chaos that had been the last few days.

Mingi and Yunho watched the two kiss, soft smiles on their faces as they watched the soft intimacy between the youngest and oldest of their group. They loved seeing their packmates like this, it always made them smile, even after long and exhausting days, they’d always find ways to be close.

Y/n slowly woke up, hearing noise around her. Her eyes fluttered open, trying to overcome the pull of sleep wanting to drag her back down. She heard noises next to her, turning her head to find that Hongjoong and Jongho were kissing. Her sleep-addled mind didn’t process it at first, just thinking how cute they were. Until she slammed the breaks on her thoughts as she finally processed that the two were kissing.

Like sure, everyone who knew Ateez knew that they were a pack, that was common knowledge, but despite people’s theories, it was definitely not known that they kissed each other. She laid there looking at them, and the longer she sat there, the more she felt as if she was intruding on something she shouldn’t be. This was just for pack, which she was very much not. 

No matter how much she wished she one day might be, her brain whispered, only for her to push those thoughts away, knowing better than to dwell on them. Those thoughts have never done her any good.

Y/n sits up and moves to get off of the couch, forgetting that Yeosang was sitting in between her legs. Her actions wake the alpha sitting on the floor in front of her, as he looks up at her and the others groggily. In her rush to get up, she simply ignores everyone around her despite the shock showing on their faces, and rushes past the other three, leaving the living room in search of her own room, leaving the scent of a distressed and upset omega behind.

“What did you guys do?” Yeosang mumbled, becoming more awake by the second.

“I don’t think we did anything?” Yunho says, his voice raising in confusion, looking at where y/n disappeared further into the apartment.

“Something must’ve happened,” Yeosang responded.

Tuning out the two talking, Hongjoong, like Yunho, stared at the place where the omega had disappeared from view. His brain was working overtime to figure out exactly what happened, as he vaguely noted Yeosang going after y/n. Everything comes to a halt the moment he smelt the distressed scent in the air, his alpha taking over as the captain tried to remove himself from Jongho’s lap. He was partially successful, though instead of getting up, he only managed to fall down onto the floor instead, smacking his hands on the floor.

“Huh?! What’s goin’ on?” San said, startled awake by the noise.

“Hyung!” Yunho and Mingi exclaimed, dropping down onto the floor next to their alpha as the older male scrambled, trying to get off the floor.

“Hongjoong-hyung, what’s going on?” Jongho asked as he moved down onto the floor.

“‘Mega is in distress! Have to get to them!” Hongjoong half-shouted at them.

“Which omega? Neither Wooyoung or Seonghwa-hyung are in distress?” Mingi asked the alpha.

“Baby omega!” Hongjoong shouted, loud enough to wake both of the still sleeping omegas.

“Hmm? What’s going on?” Wooyoung mumbled, “What happened to baby omega?!” He half screeched, realizing what Hongjoong had said.

Hongjoong turned to look at the dark-haired man, crying out, “Baby omega is still sad, alpha made her sad,” he said, taking the blame for her state.

Yunho pulled the pack alpha into a hug, his hold on his hyung tighter than it normally would be.

“You’re not at fault here, we don’t know why y/n is upset,” He told the older alpha.

“But alpha didn’t help omega the first time!” Hongjoong protested, tears starting to trail down his cheeks as he became more distressed himself.

“Alpha,” Seonghwa said, appearing behind Yunho and reaching out to run his hand through Hongjoong’s hair, “Why do you think you didn’t help baby omega the first time?”

“Baby omega wouldn’t say anything to alpha, wouldn’t explain why she was sad,” Hongjoong said, looking up at Seonghwa with wide, tear-filled eyes, “and now something happened that made her sad again.”

“Oh darling,” Seonghwa said softly, moving around Yunho and crouching down to be level with Hongjoong, “Maybe she just wasn’t ready to say anything, hmm? It’s not your fault, and we’ll figure out why she’s sad and distressed and do our best to fix it. Now, won’t you let your omega comfort you?” He said, his arms reaching out to pick up the pack alpha, pushing out his calming scent to try and calm down his mate.

Hongjoong didn’t have the energy to protest, allowing himself to be picked up, and almost immediately hiding his face in Seonghwa’s neck. Seonghwa sighed, before looking at the others.

“I’m going to take him into our room, clearly there’s some things he and I need to talk about. Jongho and San, would you two go and check on wherever y/n and Yeosang are? I want to make sure they’re okay,” he asked the two betas, who nodded, shaking off their feelings about what just happened, and heading out to find the missing two members.

Seonghwa nodded at the two who remained, before carrying their leader off to one of their rooms, or even the nesting room.

Yunho and Mingi were left with Wooyoung, who whined to get their attention. The two alphas moved to sit next to their omega, sandwiching him in between them.

“It’ll be okay, Wooyoungie,” Yunho comforted him.

“You know the others will figure out what’s going on, and will make it better, and then we can all gather in the nest and spend time as a pack.” Mingi said, trying to reassure the omega that it would be okay.

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

Seonghwa softly placed Hongjoong down on the omega’s bed, the alpha gripping onto his shirt, trying to keep him close.

“Hold on darling, I just need to change really quick, okay? I’ll be right across the room, and once I’m finished, I’ll be back in your arms,” Seonghwa tried to comfort Hongjoong, who reluctantly let go of his shirt.

This allowed Seonghwa to move to his closet, quickly changing into his silk pajamas. He gracefully walked back over to his bed, where his shirt was grabbed and he was pulled into bed by Hongjoong. He was then checked over for any injuries or even a slightly off smell. Seonghwa allowed it, knowing it would help the alpha calm himself down, and it did for the most part, since he hasn’t gotten to comfort or talk to y/n yet.

“I wanna see y/n,” Hongjoong demanded.

Seonghwa sighed before replying, “You can see her later, Joong. She needs her space first.”

“But she’s sad,” the alpha protested.

“Yeosang, Jongho and San have gone to talk to her, it’ll be okay,” Seonghwa tried to comfort his mate.

“But I want to see her!” Hongjoong whined, making his mate chuckle.

Instead of speaking, Seonghwa just pulled the alpha’s head into his neck, right into his scent gland. He immediately felt the other man’s body relax, smiling as Hongjoong buried his face further into his neck.

“Relax for me dear. Let our mates take care of y/n for us, while I take care of you,” Seonghwa whispered.

There was a slight whine from the alpha in protest, though he simultaneously relaxed in Seonghwa’s hold. The omega’s hands came to wrap around Hongjoong, a hand slowly rubbing his back as the alpha slowly succumbed to sleep. 

Once Seonghwa was sure Hongjoong had fallen asleep, he kissed the top of the pack alpha’s head, whispering, “Sleep well my love, you deserve some rest after taking such good care of us and y/n recently.”

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[cassiesc0rner]

Impurities V

Synopsis: You're the new girl at East Highland High, your only goal is to get through school. Until you come across Nate Jacobs

Genre: angst, slight fluff

Pairing: Nate x fem!reader

Warnings: negative body-image, panic attack, manipulation, lying, jealousy, dark themes, violent behaviour, Nate talks about intimate stuff with Max, Nate is being really mean :/ Imk if I missed something

Song rec: praying - Isabel LaRosa | I wish you roses - Kali Uchis | mentally not here - Elita | Somewhat Damaged - NIN | Animal - Sir Chloe

WC: +9,5k

Other parts: previous part, next part

A/N: I know this one took a little longer than usual, but I fear the next updates will take a little longer too, since I’m a perfectionist and I don’t wanna do anything half assed and quick. This one is also really just angsty. :( but thank you guys in advance for reading, and for being so patient with me! ᥫ᭡

You were surprised when you got home and found your dad opening the door for you. It wasn't like he never opened the door for you before, but you were used to your mom being the only one who's home.

You didn't bother saying anything as you entered your home. He frowned for a moment when you walked past him, typing on your phone. He was surprised you didn't smile at him and greet him properly.

"Y/n?" he called out. You turned around and looked at him "What?" you asked nonchalantly. He looked at you completely bewildered, before he sighed "Where were you?" he asked with a frown.

Your eyes nearly jumped out of your skull "Excuse me... what did you say?" you asked, taking a few steps closer to him. "Did you just ask me where I was?" You scoffed in disbelief.

Your dad crossed his arms. "Yeah.. what's with the attitude?" he asked. "Oh, sorry, it's just.. you usually never ask me where I've been so..." You explained sarcastically, not sure if your parents were slowly losing their minds.

"I was outside with a friend." you added before taking your shoes off, and walking towards your room.

Your dad looked after you in confusion. He hadn't looked at you properly for the past few weeks, and he felt uneasy, seeing how different you dressed and behaved.

Earlier that day, he approached your mom and asked her, why you two got so quiet all of a sudden, and she told him about her concerns regarding you and Nate. At first, he thought she was just making a fuss over nothing again.

But after seeing you walk past him, looking nothing like his daughter, he became concerned as well. It wasn't just the short skirt and the way-too-tight top that threw him off; it was the fact that you suddenly looked like every highschool guy's fantasy.

If you were to ask a middle schooler what a girl looks like, they'd describe you: No body hair, long lashes, obsessed with pink and skirts.

You weren't like that before. You never wore skirts or bright, soft colours. You always wanted to look cool and dark, not soft and... feminine.

He shook his head in disbelief before he walked into the garden and lit his cigarette, worried about what you might've gotten yourself into.

And worrying about how he could get you out of it.

The next day you woke up feeling well-rested as your alarm rang at 11 AM. It was Saturday, and you and Nate had this unspoken rule of meeting up every Saturday.

He texted you that he'd pick you up at 1 PM, but he didn't tell you what you would be doing. You got up and chose one of your dresses for the day.

It was a vintage-style, pastel pink A-line dress, with a floral pattern and puffy short sleeves. You found the dress online one day and just had to order it.

You missed it sometimes, going shopping on your own and taking inspiration from your pinterest boards. Choosing your clothes yourself and not wearing what someone else wants you to wear.

You missed your pants, loose graphic tops and your comfortable sneakers. When you wore tighter fitting tops, you constantly felt the need to suck in your stomach, and sit straight to prevent any pesky rolls from appearing.

The worst part was, that you were absolutely sure Nate didn't notice your effort which pressured you even more, because he probably thought you simply looked like this all the time.

Eating with him was also something you couldn't enjoy as much anymore, because you got bloated after your meals sometimes. You trusted Nate with your life, but you just didn't want him to see you in any unflattering way ever.

You also obviously loved Nate, and his compliments, but you were so overwhelmed sometimes, because you were so focused on being perfect for him that you weren't able to pay attention to other things anymore.

You didn't want him to even think about looking at other girls, which he also barely did when you two were out together. But the words of your mother and Maddy made you feel so insecure.

If what they were saying was true, you should be concerned about Nate only liking you because of your style or appearance, but instead, you felt the need to impress him more and more every time, craving his approval.

You pushed the thoughts aside as you grabbed a fresh towel, your underwear, and your dress before you went to the bathroom to take a shower and shave, which was a part of your routine you had to get used to at first.

It wasn't like you never shaved before, but you definitely never took it as serious as now. You loved it when Nate would run his hands over your legs, or arms with this satisfied smile on his face before he would tell you how smooth and soft your skin feels.

After your morning routine, you sighed as you slid into the dress, before you brushed and blow-dried your hair.

When you left the bathroom and walked back towards your room, you were surprised to catch a glimpse of both of your parents in the kitchen. You were starting to get suspicious, since your dad usually would've been at work by now.

You brushed it off and walked into your room to do your make up. You usually didn't wear a lot of make up. You just made sure to accentuate your lashes, put on some tinted lip balm, and some concealer to hide any dark spots. Sometimes, you added a winged eyeliner, nothing too dramatic, which gave your eyes a more doll-like look.

Of course, you were aware of the fact that Nate loved that look on you; in his eyes it suited you perfectly.

Almost like you were his own personal doll.

You also put on a generous amount of your perfume, after noticing how much Nate loved it on you, and decided to stay in your room until he would call you to tell you he's there.

You used the time to think of something you could gift Nate. Sure, you planned the surprise party and you paid for a lot of the things already. But you felt obligated to buy him an extra present, simply because he bought you so many without a special occasion.

Before you could finish that thought however, the doorbell rang. You didn't bother to leave your room since you knew your mom ordered something a few days ago.

Until you heard his deep voice vibrating through the walls.

You quickly got up and nearly ran out of your room. You walked to the main hallway, spotting Nate, talking to your dad, with flowers in his hand. He was earlier than you expected.

You walked up to them until you reached Nate and nearly jumped into his arms. "Hey.." you whispered shyly as you smiled up at him, your eyes so full of love for him that he couldn't help but wonder if all of this was just an act.

If you also looked at Max that way.

"These are for you." he informed you with a small smile, as he handed you the bouquet of red roses. He bought them on his way to your place, mostly for you of course, but also in an attempt to make a good impression on your parents.

"Aw.. they're so beautiful thank you!" You exclaimed as a big smile made its way onto your face. You got on your tiptoes before pressing a kiss on his cheek.

"Is this the 'friend' you went out with yesterday?" your dad asked, causing your eyes to widen before you turned towards your dad "No.. I went to Mia's place yesterday." yeah sure "This.." you trailed off as your hand searched for Nate's "is my boyfriend." you announced.

Your dad nodded "Yeah.. we've talked before, right?" he asked and Nate forced a smile "Yeah..." Your dad chuckled "I would give you the 'don't you dare hurt my daughter' talk, but I'm sure my wife did that already."

Nate nodded slowly "Yeah.. she did." he sighed. "I'll bring her back tomorrow, if that's okay?" He added. Your dad hesitated for a moment before he nodded as well. "Alright, let's go." You said as you smiled up at Nate.

You handed the roses over to your dad "Can you put them in my vase for me?" you asked as you looked at him, and to his dismay, you weren't smiling at him the way you used to when you were younger.

Or the way you just smiled at Nate.

He nodded as he smiled down at you "Sure.. When are you going to be back tomorrow?" he asked as Nate opened the door, ready to leave as fast as possible. "Um.. I don't know?" you shrugged before you simply waved at him, which bothered your dad.

It bothered him because he knew that you didn't need him anymore. When you needed him he was at work, always, no exception. You must've been so lonely without him, just the thought of it made him feel awful.

It wasn't that he simply didn't care enough about you. He did, he just couldn't show it, because that meant he'd be vulnerable in front of his family.

And his dad didn't raise him like that.

As soon as the door closed behind you, your dad sighed in frustration "You know that this is your fault, right?" your mom taunted as she stood behind him.

Your dad turned around as he clenched his jaw "What was I supposed to do? Say 'no, don't ever talk to my daughter again'?" He angrily responded as he walked past her "That's not what I meant." She retorted calmly, as she watched him go into the kitchen.

When he didn't react, she shouted "You could've prevented all of this from happening, if you just would've been a real father."

He stopped in his tracks before he turned around, the flowers still in his hands as he approached your mom with heavy steps, causing her to take a step back in fear "Oh yeah?" he rumbled as he looked down at her "And what about you? Maybe if you did your job right, our daughter wouldn't cling to a guy like him."

She sighed before blinking up at him "What do you mean by that?" Your dad scoffed in disbelief "You know what I'm talking about. You and your fucking anxiety all the time... You raised a loner, and a weak one at that. Of course she's gonna run into the arms of the first person, who is nice to her for longer than just a week." he spat.

"It wasn't exactly easy to raise her alone, you know?" she defended herself "Jesus, you act like I did nothing for this family! Why do you think I'm constantly at work? So that you and her don't have to worry about money." he raised his voice, causing her to flinch.

He sighed as he recalled all the fights the two of them had, and how he would come into your room late at night, to tuck you into bed. That was one of the few interactions the two of you had when you were younger.

And you'd always complain about how your mom wouldn't let you go out with your 'friends', which caused them to think you were weird and a loner. Of course they weren’t real friends, but that alone made it even harder for you, to find actual people who you can trust and build a friendship with.

And whenever he tried to talk to your mom and tell her that she needed to get treatment for her anxiety, they would fight. Sometimes even until he had enough and just left, not coming home until the next day.

"Do me a favor," he said, pushing the roses into her hands, "put them in water and stop talking." he groaned, before leaving her behind to, once again, drive away and calm down.

Nate decided to take you to a pretty café today and you couldn't help but feel excited. Until you noticed that he was lost in thoughts for most of the car ride. He wasn't that talkative to begin with, but today was just different.

"And he suddenly asks me where I went when I got home yesterday, isn't that strange?" you said, looking at the menu, unsure which cake to choose. He nodded, narrowing his eyes at you without you noticing.

He wanted to ask you the same thing, but he knew you wouldn't tell him the truth "Yeah that's actually strange.. your family's strange in general though." Nate added.

He wondered what had gotten into your dad. At first, he didn't care that Nate wanted you to go to his party and sleep at his place, and then all of a sudden, he asks you where you went yesterday and when you’d be back home tomorrow?

He hoped he didn't have to take care of both of your parents. But he probably had to if your dad started to get in his way too.

But what was even more important right now was what you were doing with Max behind his back. And he was about to find out today, either you’ll tell him, or he will. "Nate?" he blinked before chuckling "Sorry.. I kind of zoned out."

You stroked his hand that was resting on the table, looking at him. "Is everything okay? You seem really distracted today." you frowned.

Nate shook his head dismissively "Yeah sure.. I'm just really stressed out at the moment.." you pouted in return "I'm sorry, is there something I can do? Do you wanna go home?" He shook his head again "No, let's order something and eat first."

You nodded as you continued to look at the list "I don't know which one to choose.." you groaned as your eyes flickered from one cake to another. "C'mon, let me choose for you." Nate offered as he looked at the menu, feeling some sense of control return to him.

"Yeah, please." you sighed. "I wanna get the cheesecake, but the strawberry one also looks really good." you explained. Nate nodded "Take the strawberry one." he demanded calmly.

You nodded before you started a new topic "Oh, by the way, what do you think of my new dress? I bought it recently.." you told him with a shy smile on your tinted lips. Nate furrowed his brows in return, realizing he hadn't complimented you today.

Did you feel neglected? Had this happened before? "Oh, you're right! I meant to ask you about it, since I've never seen you wear that before... You look absolutely gorgeous, as always." He smiled at you "How could I forget..." he mumbled more to himself than to you.

Maybe it did happen before and you felt like he's not paying attention to you anymore. Which definitely wasn't true at all, but you were insecure so what if you let your insecurities get the best of you?

That could be the only reason for you to even consider cheating on him with someone like Max.

After the short trip to the café nearby, you and Nate went straight home. His patience was running thin and he needed closure. You already noticed his mind was elsewhere, and he already planned on asking you about the situation once you were at his place.

As you entered Nate's home, Marsha greeted and approached you. "Hey, Sweetie." She exclaimed as she hugged you softly. "How did your mom take the news?" she asked.

You sighed "To be honest, not so well.. Haven't spoken to her in days." you admited with a sad smile. "Oh... that's not good. I guess she's not open to meeting up with me then?" She added "I didn't even get to ask her, because we had a pretty big fight." you admitted.

Marsha frowned "I'm sorry, Honey." just as she was about to say something else, Nate interrupted "We'll figure something out, I bet it's gonna be alright." you nodded in response "C'mon let's go upstairs." he added before he took your hand in his. You smiled friendly at Marsha before you followed him.

Once you two entered his room, Nate closed the door behind him, not moving from the spot.

Then you heard the click sound of the lock.

You turned around and looked at him, with this confused look which Nate usually found absolutely endearing. When he simply stared at you, you felt even smaller than you already were in his presence.

You chuckled nervously, unsure of what he was going to do next. Did he plan on having sex with you right away? Why else would he lock the door?

"Are you.. just gonna stand there?" You asked nervously. He chuckled drily before shaking his head "I'm just looking at you for a moment." he reasoned.

You approached him with a shy smile, before wrapping your arms around his waist and placing your head on his chest, releasing a content sigh as you did.

Usually Nate would smile in return or react in literally any way, but right now he decided to wait until you would let go of him. Right now he didn't like the way his your perfume clouded his senses, or the way his your bag sat so nicely on your shoulder.

Once you removed your arms and took a step back to look at him, Nate decided now's the moment. His back leaned against the door as he stared you down. "I need to ask you something." he announced. You frowned, before nodding and tucking a strand of hair behind your ear.

"Where were you yesterday?"

Your eyes widened. You didn't expect him to ask you that. You involuntarily swallowed as you playfully furrowed your brows "I was at Mia's, I told you." he chuckled again "I know what you told me." he said as he crossed his arms, an insincere smile on his face that sent a shiver down your spine.

You looked at the ground as you tried to think of something, anything you could say. "Y/n, where were you yesterday?" it was the same question, but his tone was sterner. You didn't dare to look at him, knowing he'd see how nervous you were.

Not like he couldn't tell already just by the way you stared at the ground. "I.. was at M-Mia's-" Nate groaned "No, you weren't." he interrupted "I know for a fact that you weren't." his voice dropped an octave, as he tried his best to control himself.

He took notice of the way your breathing picked up as you still didn't look at him. "Nate... Why are you asking me this?" you asked as you tried to calm down, and buy time to come up with something else you could tell Nate.

"Because you're lying to me, and I wanna know why." He reasoned. You couldn’t tell if he knew you were with Max, or if he talked to Mia and only knew that you weren't with her. All you knew was that he wasn't messing around. "Why do you think I'm lying to you?" you asked as you finally looked up at him.

You've never seen that look on his face before.

This dark, cold look that made your breath hitch in fear. "Do you think I'm stupid?" he suddenly asked, his voice void of any emotion. You quickly shook your head "No, of course not! I just... I don't know where this is coming from suddenly." you admitted.

Nate sighed "Y/n... I'm going to ask you this one last time and you better tell me the truth." he warned, "Where were you yesterday?" Your breathing got quicker again, not allowing you to focus. "I.. I wasn't at Mia's place..." you admited shakily.

Nate nodded "That's right, you weren't." his tone softened just slightly "Now tell me... who were you with yesterday?" You played with your fingers as you felt like your heart would stop any moment from now. "Nate... I-I can't tell you."

Nate clenched his jaw as he inhaled sharply. "I've always been honest with you, is it too much to ask you to do the same?" he asked drily "I don't... ask for much, you know? I'm willing to give you everything I can and all I want in return, is your honesty and most importantly, your loyalty."

You nodded as you tried to calm down again. "I love you, but I can't tell you, you really have to trust me with this." he scoffed "You want me to simply trust you, after you just lied to me?"

You nodded erratically "Are you scared of me?" You shook your head as you blinked rapidly. Of course you weren't scared of Nate, you’re sure he'd never hurt you. But he was so scary in this moment that you didn’t know how to handle it.

"Then why don't you tell me what's going on?" He asked, even more irritated than before. You sighed as you tried to come up with an excuse, so desperate to keep the party a secret for as long as possible. "Okay.. um.." you started as you suddenly got an idea.

"The thing is, I had an appointment yesterday and I didn't want to tell you because.." you trailed off once Nate scoffed "Stop fucking lying, Y/n!" he raised his voice at you, causing you to flinch as he started to lose his patience and his temper.

Nate gripped both of your arms firmly, but not tight enough to hurt you. You flinched once again as you looked up at him. "I know you met up with Max." you shook your head rapidly as you remembered Max's words.

"Please don't let Nate beat my ass if he finds out we went out alone."

Nate laughed in disbelief before his grip tightened on you, causing you to whimper in fear. "I saw you, okay? I saw you get out of his fucking car, so don't fucking lie to me!" he shouted.

You furrowed your brows in confusion. What did he mean by that? Did he see you get out of his car when you two went to the mall, or when he drove you home?

Was he.. waiting in front of your house? No, you were sure he wouldn't do that.

"You saw me get out of his car? Were you following me?" you asked in disbelief.

Shit.

Nate looked to the side for a moment to regain his composure "I meant, I saw you get into his car. Of course I didn't follow you, you never gave me a reason to." he said in a calmer tone this time "But when you're fucking lying to me, to meet up with another guy, I might have to do it, no?"

You looked to the ground again "Did he touch you?" you shook your head "Did you touch him?" you shook your head again. He wanted to believe you, but your desperate attempts to hide the truth really messed with him.

He swung you around, pushing your back into the wall and knocking your breath away in the process. Your looked at him like a deer in headlights, as you tried to process what was happening. You didn't even notice how quick you were breathing because you were so fixated on Nate.

"You don't get how serious this is, do you?" he gritted his teeth "I told you about Maddy and how she cheated on me and-and you... you meet up with Max, behind my fucking back.. I mean, you know how that looks, right?" he rambled.

You felt your vision starting to blur slightly as you looked up at Nate "N-Nate-" you whimpered, and he scoffed in return "I mean, what is it? Does he treat you better or did you just get bored of me?" He asked furiously.

You breathed even heavier as you tried to keep your tears inside. "I didn't cheat on you!" you raised your voice, but it came out shaky. Nate nodded sarcastically "You think I believe that after you lied to me?"

You sighed "I'm sorry for lying to you, but you can't actually think I-" Nate removed one hand from your arm, before delivering a punching to the wall next to your head, causing you to whimper and close your eyes. "Then just tell me what happened between you two!" he roared.

You shakily exhaled "Nate, please.. You're scaring me." you pleaded desperately, and all he did was clench his jaw "You told me you're not scared of me earlier, was that also a lie?" he retorted.

"I didn't cheat on you, I love you and I would never do something like that to you." you started again "You know... how long it took for me that day, to even be able to... get naked in front of you." you sobbed, feeling embarrassed as your mind went back to that day. "Do you really think, I'd just.. cheat on you with a boy I barely even know?" you sniffled.

Nate chuckled, unable to contain his bitterness "I mean who knows, maybe that was an act as well." He snarled.

Your heart broke into pieces, the weight of his words heavy on you. Not only because he didn't believe you, but because you struggled so much to allow him to get this close to you, to see everything of you and now he seemed to make fun of you.

You tried to break free from his grip as you were about to cry, and didn't want him to see. But Nate was obviously stronger, almost smiling as you thrashed in his grip. "What is it, am I right?" He taunted as his other hand returned to your arm.

You shook your head as your lip trembled, not daring to speak because you knew it would come out in sobs. "C'mon, tell me, are you angry because I'm right?" He asked again.

Nate didn't notice how far he went, not even when he heard your silent cries. To him, it seemed like a confession rather than a denial.

He was sure you were crying because he caught you.

You felt yourself getting more and more lightheaded, mostly because of your irregular breathing which resulted in a lack of oxygen. "I.. never cheated on you!" you raised your voice once again. "I met up with him, yes. But.. that doesn't mean I cheated." you tried to sound as coherent as you could in the current situation.

You gripped his arms as a tear rolled down your cheeks. "Let go of me!" you yelled, as you tried to break free once again. He frowned as he looked down at you, still convinced that you were in the wrong. He leaned in closer, as his eyes bored into yours, before he whispered "What were you doing in his car then?"

Nate was torn between his anger towards you for breaking his trust, and the twisted and dark part of him which reveled in your tears which slowly started to spill, knowing that he caused them.

You sighed before you looked into his dark eyes, your brows furrowed in anger "I planned a surprise with him, for your fucking birthday, okay?" you spat as tears continued to well up in your eyes.

Nate fell silent as his thoughts went back to the messages Max had sent you. It actually made sense, for the first time he actually felt like you told the truth.

His grip on you softened slightly, and you used the chance to remove his hands from your arms before you pushed him away and sank onto the floor.

He looked down at you "... Seriously?" he asked softly. You sobbed as you harshly opened your bag before your shaky hands tried their best to grab and unlock your phone. Tears rolled down your face, as you couldn't contain them anymore.

Once you unlocked it and opened Max's chat, you held it towards Nate "Take it!" you wailed. He slowly took your phone, reading through the chat as he felt his heart sink more and more with each message.

Some even showing how excited you were to ‘finally do something for your boyfriend’, since you felt like you weren't good enough after he always made you gifts and you never gave him anything back.

He could feel your love just through the texts you sent Max, and it made him want to throw the phone away and scream in agony. Not only because he was so wrong, but also because of how awful he treated you, his sweet girl, his everything.

You continued to cry and breathe heavily, as you felt your chest tighten more and more. You never expected Nate to push you, or talk to you like this. He never got this rough with you, not even when you were just friends.

It shattered the image you had of him.

"Fuck..." he breathed out before he closed your phone and rubbed his face in disbelief, looking down at you with regret in his eyes.

He crouched down next to where you cowered, next to his door. You hid your face behind your arms as you continued to cry and hyperventilate. You felt like everything you saw of Nate was an act that he put on, in order to lure you in.

He reached his hand out to stroke your arm. "I'm so sorry... fuck, I don't even know what to-" You slapped his hand away "Don't.. touch... me." you choked out.

Nate was taken aback, not used to you talking to him like that, or slapping his hand away for that matter. Under any other circumstances he would be pissed and try to assert his dominance over you.

Not like he wasn’t pissed already, but more at himself for losing control, and not at you. He was supposed to protect you and make you feel safe with him, not repeat his old mistakes.

Right now he just wanted to scoop you up, and hold you close when he noticed you were sobbing on his floor, completely scared and shaken.

He went too far, way too far.

He had to fix it, and he had to think quickly because everything depended on this moment. If he made one more wrong move, everything could shatter into pieces right now.

Your tears continued to fall, as you slowly tried to get up again. You were torn, because you wanted to leave, be alone and think about what just happened, and at the same time you needed someone who holds you and comforts you, before you actually break down again.

Once you stood on your shaky legs, you reached out, snatching your phone from his grasp. Without another glance his direction you took small steps towards the door, ready to unlock it and leave.

"What are you doing?" Nate panicked as he walked in front of you. You flinched at the sound of his voice, which caused him to frown, once he realized that you were actually scared of him.

But Nate would never let you leave like this.

Not only because he was actually scared to lose you right now, but mostly because he saw how shaky your legs were and how disturbed you looked. He couldn't let you leave alone like this, it was dangerous.

"I'm leaving.." you sniffled as you walked past him. He wanted to hug you and hold you close, but he was so scared to touch you. Almost afraid he'd break you or push you further away from him.

"Y/n, please, let me explain-" he stopped when you looked up at him, your eyes red and glassy, your make-up smudged and your cheeks stained with dark tears, a result of your mascara and eyeliner. You looked broken.

"Do you know... how fucking hard it was for me to trust you?" You asked as new tears were threatening to spill "I.. can't believe you actually considered.. that I put on an act in front of you. After everything I tried, to be.. perfect for you." you added. "I.. thought you were the only person in my life.. who would never hurt me!"

You suddenly broke down in tears, as the wall you so desperately tried to hold crumbled. Nate was taken aback when you raised your voice at him and cursed. He wasn't used to hearing you talk like that, and it made him realize even more how deeply upset you were.

"I know, and I'm so sorry.. I never should've said that, please, just let me hold you." he softly offered "I can tell that you're not okay right now, and I know that it's my fault, but I can assure you it's never gonna happen again."

He wanted to believe what he had just promised you, but he knew that another argument like this was bound to happen sometime. Either because you were too gullible around men, or because he was unable to keep the control he had over you.

Now that he’s seen you actually fight with him, he knew you weren’t going to stay as obedient as you were anymore. You actually talked back, defended yourself and stood your ground against him. Something he hadn’t considered up until this moment.

He took notice of how you gasped for air as you continued to cry. "Please let.. let me take care of you, yeah?" he carefully asked as he took a step closer "I'm not a monster, you don't have to be afraid of me.." he reminded you.

Once he was close enough, he carefully placed a hand on your shoulder in order to test if you'd push him away again. When you shuddered, he took a step closer and wrapped his arms around you, making sure to not hold you too tight, since you already seemed to be suffocating.

He's seen Maddy cry, he's seen Cassie cry, but nothing compared to seeing you cry. He hated himself for making you feel like this, and he hated himself even more for feeling a strange sense of satisfaction at your display of vulnerability earlier.

You just looked so pretty, even when you cried. "Shh.. it's okay, can you breathe with me?" He asked once he noticed you still hadn't calmed down. When you didn't respond and continued to gasp for air, he almost started to panic as well.

Nate couldn't understand how one confrontation was all it took for you to get a panic attack. But he was determined to regain control of you and the situation at hand.

In his eyes he had every right to assume you cheated on him, after you lied about going out with Max and after the messages he saw in the preview. But he also understood that you were upset, because his choice of words might’ve hurt you.

Not to mention, you planned this surprise for him because you loved him, and only him, and all he did was yell at you to tell him the truth, instead of simply trusting you in the first place.

Your heart pounded in your chest, as you tried to focus on anything but the overwhelming panic that consumed you. Your hands trembled uncontrollably, and you felt a wave of nausea hit you like a truck. The room seemed to spin, the walls closing in on you.

"Hey, look at me what's wrong?" he asked as his hands moved back to your shoulders. You looked up at him as you felt like your head was spinning. You weren't sure how to tell him what you needed, but you could see worry written all over his features.

"I.. I need to.. breathe.. fuck..." you croaked, panic visible on your features "I need air.." you added. Nate cursed under his breath as he realized you were actually having a full-blown panic attack. He had to distract you and calm you down, but he didn't know how.

He took a deep breath himself, as he closed his eyes, before opening them again "Y/N, please... breathe with me," he urged, his voice shaky yet soothing. "In through your nose, out through your mouth. Just follow my breath."

But his words barely registered in your mind, your thoughts racing too fast, too loud, to pay attention to anything. The mistrust, the fear of losing him, the shame of your perceived betrayal— it all pressed down on you, it nearly suffocated you.

Nate watched, helpless and horrified, as you cried in front of him. With each passing moment he saw the damage he had caused more and more, and it terrified him. He reached out again, more gently this time as he tried to comfort you.

Nate realized that mere words wouldn't be enough to undo the pain he had caused. He had to show you somehow, that he could be the person you needed. And he needed to gain control over the situation. Nate took another deep breath, trying to steady his own racing heart, and slowly moved closer to you.

He gently rubbed his thumbs over your shoulders, his touch light and hesitant. "Y/n, look at me," he said softly. "Focus on me, okay? Just on me." His voice was low and calming, a stark contrast to his earlier tone.

You hesitated, your vision still blurred with tears, but the sincerity in his voice made you look up. Nate's eyes were filled with regret and concern, completely different to the way he looked at you before.

"That's it," he whispered encouragingly, his thumb continued to brush your shoulder in a soothing rhythm. "Just keep looking at me. We're going to get through this together."

Nate took another deep breath, exaggerating the action to show you what he wanted you to do. "In through your nose, out through your mouth," he repeated, his eyes never leaving yours. "Just like this."

You tried to mimic his breathing, struggling at first but gradually falling into a more regular rhythm. Nate continued to guide you, his voice steady and reassuring. "Yeah just like that. Just keep breathing with me. It'll pass, I promise."

He gently reached for your hand, lacing his fingers with yours, in an attempt to ground you. "I'm here," he murmured. "I'm not going anywhere... and I never meant to hurt you."

You sniffled as you nodded rapidly. "We'll talk about it and get through this, right?" he asked, needing your reassurance this time, to which you nodded again. "Everything's gonna be fine again, just breathe." he instructed.

Gradually, the panic began to go away, your breaths coming more evenly. Nate's steady presence, his genuine regret, and his undevided attention helped steady you, pulling you back from the edge.

"Thank you," you whispered, your voice still shaky but more coherent. Nate nodded, his eyes never leaving yours. "I'll always be here for you. Always."

Nate knew that this was just the beginning of a long journey to rebuild what he had broken. But for now, he was focused on you, on making sure you were okay, and on showing you that he could be the man you needed right now.

He slowly pulled you into his arms, nearly clinging onto you as he sighed in relief "I love you so much.. don't ever forget that, yeah?" he pressed a tender kiss onto your head "I can't lose you.. That's why I got so angry. I shouldn't have said all those things.." he reasoned.

You nodded slowly as you inhaled his scent, which always made you feel so safe. You inhaled sharply one more time as you closed your eyes, feeling incredibly exhausted and lethargic, after your adrenaline level dropped back to normal.

Nate took notice of your physical state, sensing that you probably want to rest and feel comfortable again. He gently pulled back and cupped your face, his thumb brushing away the lingering tears. "Let's get you cleaned up, okay?" he said softly, his voice filled with genuine affection.

You nodded slowly, too drained to argue or protest. Nate slowly removed the bag from your shoulder before placing it down next to the door. Then he led you to the bathroom, his arm wrapped around your waist.

Once inside, he carefully sat you down on the edge of his cabinet. He grabbed a washcloth and dampened it with warm water, then gently began wiping away the remains of your smudged makeup from your face. His touch was surprisingly gentle.

As he worked, he kept murmuring praises. "You're so beautiful... I never want to see you like that again. I'm here for you." His voice was soothing for your nerves, and you were starting to relax as you let him take care of you.

After he had cleaned your face, he slowly stood up from his crouching position before he left the room for a few seconds, and you hated how you already felt lonely.

He came back shortly after with one of his soft, oversized shirts in his hand. "Here, put this on. You'll feel more comfortable," he suggested, handing it to you. You took the shirt with a grateful nod, and slowly started to change, your movements shaky from exhaustion.

Nate averted his eyes respectfully, giving you a moment of privacy. Once you were dressed in his shirt, which smelled faintly of him and brought a sense of comfort, he helped you back to his bed.

You crawled under the covers, feeling the softness envelop you, and Nate slipped in next to you, unsure whether or not you wanted him to pull you close.

When you opened your eyes and looked at him like you were about to cry again, he scooted slightly closer, once you extended your arm and wrapped it around his waist, your body trembling ever so slightly.

He hated himself for feeling a sense of relief wash over him. He should feel awful for making you feel like this in the first place, and deep down he did, but he couldn't help but feel glad that you were clinging onto him.

He was scared he had lost you for a moment, but now he was more than sure that his small outburst pulled you closer to him.

He wrapped his arms around you securely, his warmth and steady heartbeat making you feel safe again. "I'm here, yeah? Just rest now," he whispered, pressing another kiss to your forehead. "I've got you."

You nestled against him, your eyelids growing heavy. The exhaustion began to take over, and you felt yourself drifting off, surrounded by Nate's protective embrace. For the first time since the argument, you felt at peace, knowing he was there with you.

While you started drifting off to sleep however, Nate already contemplated what he'd do about Max. Sure, you two weren't secretly cheating, but he couldn't shake the feeling, that Max was a threat to your relationship nonetheless.

He still had to make sure that Max wouldn't tell you anything about Nate's past, and even if Nate would never admit it, he was insecure, and he was overthinking everything Max did. For example, why would he help you throw Nate a birthday party? They weren't that close, so what if Max was using it as an excuse to get close to you?

Of course you wouldn't notice it, you were too oblivious, even when Nate used to openly flirt with you back when you were just friends. God, he wished he could go through your messages with Max one more time, to search for possible hints that prove Max didn't only have good intentions.

But he obviously couldn't just ask you, he promised something like earlier would never happen again, and despite knowing that it would happen again, sooner or later, he couldn't just ask you about it this soon.

He decided to let you rest for now and take matters into his own hands once the time was right.

Once you opened your eyes, you noticed the soft light of the setting sun, which illuminated Nate's room. You had no idea how long you were asleep and once you tried to move, but felt the restriction of Nate's arm around you, you remembered what or who caused you to sleep in the first place.

You sighed softly as your mind went back to all the things Nate said. You know that he didn't mean it, and that he was just driven by anger. But the fact that he totally discredited your feelings during all of this, bothered you. And the way he shoved you into his wall, before punching it, scared you as well.

However, you assumed that his fear was mostly induced by the things that happened between him and Maddy.

Not to mention, that his anger wasn’t something he could control. You knew he didn’t do it on purpose, and you weren’t particularly angry at him. You just hoped that he’d work on that in the future, not only for your sake, but for his as well.

Your gaze shifted towards his face, taking in how peaceful he looked right now. You wished he could always be like this.

Once you tried to free yourself from his embrace, he subconsciously tightened his grip on you, causing you to fall flush against his chest. He slowly stirred awake, before opening his eyes and looking at you.

You both didn't know how to react, the tension thick in the air. But once you smiled softly at him, he started to relax, letting out a breath he didn't know he was holding, before smiling back at you.

"How're you?" he asked, his voice thick with sleep. You sighed before sliding out of his grip and sitting up in his bed. "I'm better, my head just hurts a little bit, but that's fine..." you trailed off as you looked to the side.

Once silence set in, he sighed and stroked your thigh gently "I'm sorry about earlier.. I don't know what came over me." he said, his tone soft as he tried to appear as sad and regretful as possible.

"It's just.. Maddy, she ruined my trust and I was so sure you'd never betray me, which you clearly didn't, but when I saw all these signs, I was so sure that you did and I just snapped.." he ranted.

You could see the distress on his face and it made you frown, since you could see the sincerity in his eyes. "I'm so sorry you had to go through that.." you responded.

He was so glad that you didn't push him away, and accepted his apology. But he needed reassurance, any kind of reassurance that you wouldn't leave him. "It's fine.. I just want you to know, that if I ever get angry at you, I don't mean it like that, yeah? I just can't control myself sometimes and.. fuck.." he sighed, before he continued "I'm just so scared to lose you, I don't know how to handle it."

You sighed in response "Nate, you won't lose me just because I'm meeting up with other people, you know?" you carefully explained, to which he nodded.

That wasn't the reassurance he was hoping for though.

He wanted you to tell him you're never going to leave him, that you were his and that you'd stay far away from everyone else guys. "Yeah, sure it's just.. I need you, y/n. I don't think I could live without you." he said in an unusually emotional tone, almost as if he was about to cry, secretly hoping he’d be more successful if he showed you how desperate he truly was.

You stroked caressingly through his hair, in an attempt to calm him down. "Nate, I'm not gonna leave you, okay? I've seen you get angry before, and I know that it's not your fault.." His ears perked up at that. It wasn't his fault? That had to be the first time he heard someone say that.

He looked up at you "What do you mean it's not my fault?" you shrugged "I just don't think you do it on purpose..” When Nate still looked up at you, you elaborated.

“I know you don't really wanna talk about your dad, and that's totally fine, but I know that he causes a lot of your anger. I see how stressed you get because of him and the pressure of being perfect at everything.”

As if on command, his sad expression was replaced with a different one. Almost as if he was in awe, or moved by your words. No one ever seemed to acknowledge the pressure he had to endure, everyone only blamed him for everything he did.

His thoughts were racing, as you once again surprised him with your understanding nature. He didn’t expect that reaction, or to feel so understood and surprisingly warm. He couldn’t help but think about all the ways he could use your sympathy, to keep you close to him.

“You.. really think so?” he asked hopeful, to which you nodded. “Of course, I can’t imagine what that must be like.. I mean my parents are nowhere near perfect either, but they never really pressured me into anything except for getting decent grades.” you chuckled.

“I.. never thought anyone would understand,” he frowned as leaned his head flush against your outer thigh. “everyone always blames me for everything.. But I don’t do it on purpose.” he continued. “I know.. It’s hard to control it.” you cooed as you continued to stroke his hair.

You were speaking from experience, having to fight against your anger as well, whenever your parents got on your nerves. It definitely wasn’t easy, and that’s why you understood where Nate was coming from.

While you continued to comfort Nate, he already calculated his next moves. He knew it was wrong, but he couldn’t help but wonder if this meant he could slip up from time to time, without losing you.

You technically just gave him permission to treat you like this, without being aware of it. And he was so proud, because you truly were perfect and you prove it over and over again.

After you two spent the weekend, you had to go back to school the following day. You obviously weren't aware of it, but Nate already planned to approach Max during their football training that day.

When Nate entered the locker room, most of his teammates were nearly ready, but Max wasn’t there yet.

Of course he didn’t plan to confront him in front of the other guys, even though he felt the urge to let everyone know, that they should stay the fuck away from you.

Once everyone was done and went ahead, Nate was still getting dressed, taking his time in case Max would still show up. Just then he indeed entered the locker room, his smile slowly fading when he looked around the room and noticed he was alone with none other than Nate.

Nate locked eyes with him, as he wondered what took him so long to get there. Was he meeting up with you again? It shouldn’t matter to him anymore, because now he knew you weren’t cheating on him. But he still didn’t want Max to spend more time with you than necessary.

“Hey..” Max greeted Nate, before hurrying and sitting down on the bench opposite from him. “What’s up..” Nate responded, his gaze basically glued onto him, as he laced up his cleats.

Max placed his bag onto the bench and sat down, starting to get ready as fast as possible. Not only because he arrived later than everyone else did, but also because he wanted to escape Nate.

“So,” Nate began, his voice surprisingly calm, almost friendly, which made Max feel even more uneasy. “You’ve been spending a lot of time with my girl lately, huh?”

Max’s hand froze inside his bag, as he looked towards Nate with the most neutral expression he could muster, but the hint of panic from before didn’t go unnoticed by Nate.

Max already expected Nate to confront him, after receiving your text on sunday, which informed him that he found out about everything. But that didn’t make it any easier for him.

He was also wondering, how he found out in the first place. You were hell-bent on keeping it a secret, so he could only assume that he caught on somehow and forced you to admit it.

He felt so sorry for you.

“Yeah, I guess you could say so..” he chuckled nervously, averting his gaze and rummaging through his bag. “You two get close? Maybe closer than you should?” he asked bitterly.

“Tell me, Max,” he said, standing up and stepping closer to him. “You think she’s pretty?” Max swallowed harshly, struggling to find the right words. He felt like Nate would get mad, no matter what he’d say.

“I mean, you spent enough time with her to notice. Those eyes, that smile… I’m sure anyone would get weak..” he paused, letting his words sink in. “Bet you even wondered what it’s like to be with her, right?”

Max’s discomfort was clearly visible, and Nate enjoyed every second of it, knowing he had the power to cause so much distress with so little effort.

“You know,” Nate added, as he took another step closer to Max, who looked at him with fear in his eyes. “She’s different, fucking perfect even. I know every inch of her, the way she moans when I touch her and the way she tastes, God..” Nate trailed off, enjoying the way Max seemed to squirm under his gaze.

“Listen Nate,” Max started cautiously, trying to keep eye contact but failing against Nate’s intense stare. “I-I don’t know what you think happened, but there’s nothing going on between me and Y/n. We were just-”

Max swallowed harshly, knowing that he was playing a dangerous game with him. He glanced around the locker room, hoping, no, praying that anyone would come in and interrupt their conversation.

“She asked me for help because it was important to her, and I thought you’d want me to support your girlfriend, so I said yes!” He explained himself to Nate “I swear, this was all about your birthday, I never would make any advances. I know she’s yours, man, everyone knows.” he continued.

“Y/n just wanted to make sure you have a great birthday, I really-” he paused, trying to interpret Nate’s reaction but all he got, was that same cold calculating gaze.

“And about what you said earlier,” Max added, “I-I’m not thinking about her like that. I mean, she’s your girlfriend and I respect that.”

Max clenched his fists, not out of aggression, but as a way to steady himself. He knew he stepped into dangerous territory –one wrong word could set Nate off.

When Nate still stared at him, Max sighed “Look, I’m sorry if I overstepped, I just wanted to help her –and you, of course.” he quickly added.

Nate smirked, as he finally averted his gaze. “Let’s say, you were just trying to help. That’s nice of you, really.” he finally responded, easing Max’s mind just slightly. “But you gotta understand, that it’s really suspicious, when my girlfriend meets up with another guy behind my back, no?”

Max quickly nodded in response “Yeah, of course.. that’s totally valid.” Nate nodded as well before continuing “And you also understand, that I don’t like to share my girlfriend with anyone, and that it’s my job as a man, to make sure everyone knows that, right?”

Max nodded as well “No, yeah, absolutely-” Nate chuckled “I mean, I’m not a fucking pussy. I gotta protect what’s mine.” he interrupted, causing Max to nod again.

Nate sighed, almost in relief, as he put on a smile which didn’t quite reach his eyes “Good, I’ll see you outside then.” he patted his shoulder, like the two just had a friendly conversation and as if Nate didn’t just scare the shit out of Max. He just nervously smiled back at him, as Nate left him behind so he could get dressed in peace.

Once he left the locker room, Max sighed before slumping down on the bench again. He hated how helpless Nate made him feel. And he hated it even more, that you had to end up with a prick like him.

He wanted to tell you what happened, finally warn you about him. But it wasn’t only dangerous, it was also too late. He knew that Nate had his way of swaying girls, and the way you talked about him when you two texted, just confirmed that.

He could only hope, that you’d see his evil side one day, and realize what he’s truly like.

✎ damn, this was intense😓 hope you guys enjoyed it though, and as always let me know what you thought about this part!! ♡

- Cassandra

Taglist:

@lilyrachelcassidy, @endless----love, @sophsss867, @jennnsthings, @digitalpup444, @vividfleur, @tsofo26, @lunalvrsblog, @sunshinedaisy21

[seungkwanniee]

pairings : nonidol!seveteen x gn!reader

genere : fluff , angst ( minghao one )

warnings : little made fun of (jun) , panic attack but not at all (wonwoo)

synopsis : seventeen as love trope imo !

an : don't know when this is coming out but, -3 for bald Jeonghan. They are so fucking long that maybe i shouldve writed a whole series and not this but anyway

〔masterlist〕

SCOUPS 』

age gap , age ain't nothing but a number

He loves having someone on his knees no matter what, and we know younger people are more easy to manipulate but i mean it in a good way. Seungcheol would love have you wrapped around his fingers, have you doing all that just for him make him istantly happy, it fills his chest with love. But he would prefer way more to spoil you with gift, love and money. You need money? he is already putting them in your bra. You wanted that cloth? it's already yours. He likes have you wrapped around his arms that are way bigger than your whole body. Loves the height gap, so he can lay his chin on top of your head and wrap your neck with his arm. He could care less when someone points out the age gap, he loves you no matter what.

JEONGHAN 』

unreachable love interest , talking to you means a lot to me

Jeonghan is that one popular guy that everyone is in love with, so it feels like he is unreachable. He looks like an angel and seems also so sweet and caring but at the same time interesting to be around. You was only one of those people that is blinded by his beauty, why he would even notice you and your odd interest? He never showed love interest on anyone and never dated someone, he was a little bit cold, you were being just delulu right? It was so surprining for everyone when one day his steps weren't the same as he does everyday to walk into his class: he was getting closer to you, he was going trowards you. Your heart was beating so fast that you thought everyone could hear that, while your face was already red just by looking closely to his face. This unreachable angel was talking to you?

JOSHUA 』

slow burn , a lot can happen in 6 months but didn't expected this

At frist, when your friend introduced you two, you didn't minded about him too much. Sure, he was looking pretty and his behavior during the whole hangout was so gentle with everyone, but slowly he became part of your daily routine. He got involved in your group of friends more, so you automatically spent more time with him and became good friends. He was always caring, helping you to go down or upstairs, sometimes playing your food, fixing you hair etc... be he was like that with everyone, there was no purpose below. But when your heart starts flutter when he meet your eyes, you know something was changing. You no longer see his action innocently, you everytime internally begged him to make one more move, more closer to you, more intimate. Your skin pratically craving for his touch was everything you needed. Who thought that this could happen in six months?

JUN 』

the quiet ( and smart ) boy , I was quiet but not blind

Jun was the quiet, and maybe weird, guy everyone got in their class. He never talked to anyone, and no one ever spoke to him. Jun was smart enough to know that that class was a herd of kids who followed the crowd and he didn't want to be one of them, his few friends were already enough for him. As I mentioned, Jun was a smart ass boy, he noticed one girl in particular. He didn't liked her in that way, she just was the one he hated the less. His classmates didn't mind when he could hear the non-pleasant things they were saying about him, every single one said something except her. Rather, he had heard her complaining with her friends their behavior, sometimes he could ever hear the sound of a little slap, maybe in the head, after their words. During class, often you eyes land on him, his head almost always lowered to the desk writing something with his relaxed form but today something was different. His legs shaking up and down while his hand was playing with the pen that was supposted to write down the paper. when a "you are too smart to be friend with them" paper landed on you desk at the end of the class, you got everything, as if your vision was no longer blurred thanks to a stupid note.

HOSHI 』

childhood friends , it's always been you

Soonyoung was laying between your arms, while his eyes were red and puffed because of previous tears. You always warned him about the girl he was dating until few hours ago: she never liked you and you never liked her. You never knew why she didn't liked you, just because you were Soonyoung bestfriend was a stupid reason. Btw, you had a strong reason to not like her, a red flag swinging right in front of you bestfriend face that the decided to completely ignore. You always knew she was going to cheat, she did before nothing was stopping her just because he was Soonyoung. You stayed beside him the whole time, he needed to heal from this harsh breakup, but this made things change with the time. You noticed how he was more caring now, he always been but you felt something was off for sure. At one point it seemed like you was the one that needed to be healed, not him anymore. But he considered you like her sister until few months ago, what happened now?

WONWOO 』

fake dating , I like you more than I planned

When you told about this to him, all he could do was be shocked, and you kinda understand him. When your friends comes to you and tell you to pretend to be a coupla at a wedding it was pretty weird, no? Plus, Wonwoo is so shy and reserved, but it was the best choice you could come with. You hated all the invadent questions they ask, the last time they almost made you have a panick attack so you wasn't planning to go throught that hell once again. When you were standing beside him, he had his arms wrapped around your waist. Occasionally, he would also wrap you shoulder, adjust your hair or wipe your mouth from the crumbles. You would notice how his ears go bright red when his hands lays on your body, or how his hands were slightly trembling. You wanted to make fun of him, but you were exactly like him if not worst. He almost choke when one of your aunts ask you two a kiss, you would pat his back trying to keep him alive while with trembling voice explained how shy you are to do pda in public.

WOOZI 』

enemies to lovers , are you flirting or starting a fight?

when you hear that your partner project is Lee Jihoon, you just want to let out hundred curses. This was an important work project, almost depending your future and they paired you with the person for which you have hatred. At the start, you two only warned the eachother how important the project was and reiterated your mutual hatred, for what is still unknown and we'll never know because you two actually started to get along very well. It was the most unexpected thing for your coworkes see you talking like normal human being, working like you never hated eachother, how you two seemed almost like the realest bestfriends. From now on, you two enjoyed the each other comfort company and used the extra hour to stay toghether. Everyone already knew how you two will be lovers one day.

DOKYEOM 』

grumpy x sunshine , I loved you so hard that I softned

You don't know if adopt the cat you have now it was the best decision ever. It didn't fall in love with you, but with your neighborhood and you two aren't even friends. Your cat would sneak out in the most weird possibile way even figuring out how to open the balcony window and jump on the near balcony. You were so embarassed to knock at his door and explain that the cat that jumped on his apartment was yours. Maybe it was annoying him, maybe he was that kinda of grumpy neighborhood (spoiler: you were) and will yell at you. But when the door opens, you find the exactly opposite in front of your eyes. He was tall but his face looked so bright, you don't even know how to explain it but it was like that. Your little black cat was laying so comfortable in his way more bigger hands that it almost didn't wanted to come with you again. You regretted how cold you were with him, but you never saw him and it will continue like that, you tought. Never been so wrong: apparently your cat loved soo much Seokmin that now it almost live at his instead of yours. You were grateful that he wasn't annoyed by that, he was a little sunshine, but instead it was bothering you. You never liked having convo with new people, and your cat was pratically forcing you to do that. You even tought to give it to him forever just to avoid his attempt of conversation, or his invites you to come into his apartment and eat something together. But at the end, you will be always grateful to your cat that letted you met your now boyfriend.

MINGYU 』

soulmates , I meet another me inside of you

It was so shocking when you met him and discovered that you two have almost the same tatoo, it was like you two were made for eachother. It was a silly one, with no meaning behind it at all and this made the thing seem even more on propuse. The thing you two didn't knew it was that you were meant to meet and never leaving eachother side ever. The stage of being friends it never actually exsisted in your relationship, catching feelings was so fast and never been so easly that you almost thought that everything was just a fever dream, it wasn't actually real, so unreal in your head but it was like that. You have you boyfriend by your side everytime you need to, he loves you with all his heart and actually got another matching tatoo.

MINGHAO 』

forbidden love , in another life

when Minghao's family dicovered that his girlfriend wasn't chinese as him, they were disappointed from the start. They were a traditional family, and Mingaho knew that, but his heart choosed her and he can't help it. She doesn't even looked like a foreigner, at some point you spoke chinese better than him. He knew that they wouldn't like her at the start, thats why he went slow with them, but he never thought they would overreact so badly. His own mother didn't even talked to him for the frist weeks, letting him guess how disappointed and upset he was. His face was full of surprise when suddently they asked for a dinner togheter, they wanted to get to know her but all of the sudden looked a little bit of on his eyes. He putted aside his thoughts, he was so happy and excited when he got that his family was starting to soften about his relationship with a foreigner. He never regretted a decision more, they made you come for what? to embarass you, bring you down and made you feel not enough for him. He got so upset for you, he was blaming himself and apologize in his knees, you didn't deserved that and decide that you two should go in separate path.

SEUNGKWAN 』

insicure / unexpected love , & then I met you

Seungkwan always been the insicure guy: he thought no one would ever love him romatically, he was more like the class clown and only seem like a friend to the girls. He wasn't handsome, he wasn't the popular guy becayse of his look, he was only popular for his funny personality, sometimes he would even embarass himself in front of everyone just to make his classroom laugh. He never shows how this topic upset him, gotta always fake a smile and pretend nothing, but deep down himself he is almost sure no one will ever love him but also he will never be capable to love someone. He is scared and unexperienced: he can surely make someone laugh, but he can love? he can give the attention his future lover needs? he can make the person feel loved as he deresved? He was sure he was impeded in love, until you came in his life. You was the unexpected love of his life, and learned how he was really good at loving, giving attention and those things. When you frist you went to him, he thought it was a joke, someone better reveal the cameras and stop it because it wasn't funny, he would be so upset for his whole life for be made fun of. But you was dead serious, you didn't seen him like the weird funny and class clown, you saw deep down in his soul and it was so pretty, unique and majestic.

VERNON 』

innocent crush , I wonder how I look from my crush's pov

He may be the cold and dead serious guy, the one that never show interest on nothing, much less for a girl. But when he revealed his crush on you to his friends, even them were shocked. And now, forget everything about the cold guy you always knew, he become so awkward around you from now on. He always tries to get your attention, but in the end he just looks goofy and silly. Seungkwan and Dino not helping him at all too as they just look way goofier than him or just make him in weird situation. Like that one time where they made fall his whole lunch in front of you, but that just got an interaction between you two so a win is a win. But I feel like this would just be a school crush, and you two will never ending up toghter.

DINO 』

second chance love , I will always choose you

When you met those familiar eyes one again, after almost a year you two lost contact, you got it wasn't never with that boy you hardly fell in love. It was so crowded down the streets, when you stopped for few seconds because of the shock, you already lost the sight of your friends. You quickly flutter your eyes when he moves slight trowards you, not because he wanted to, but because one his friend just bumped into him. He looks at him dumbfounded because hell, there wasn't almost space to even breath why he was just staning in the middle of nothing looking straight like an idiot but he quickly relized when he looks straight too. Dino never shutted up about you, not even when you two broke up because of his dumbness, and his friends needed to hear him yap about you for so long. They even tried to pair him someone else, thinking he was just stuck and needed a push to go out of this never ending situation but every single dated ended up by the girl being bored about him yapping about the same thing or better, a person. They always thought he was overreacting but well, they got everything just by looking on his eyes.

[karespocketboyfriends]

Can I call you?

Immediately, Caleb knows something is off. Your incoming message is missing the loving emojis you usually include, nor is there an ‘I miss you’ attached to it. It’s not your usual texting style, and it sets an alarm off in his head.

No longer able to focus on the document in hand, Caleb sets the papers down on his desk next to his uniform’s cap. Being Colonel can wait.

Instead of texting back, he takes the initiative of calling first. The phone doesn’t even get the chance to ring once with how quickly you pick up. It uneases him, but for your sake, he plays it cool.

“You don’t need permission to call me, love. If you want to hear my charming voice, I’ll talk to you until I’m hoarse.” Caleb speaks first, his heart pounding in his ears. It frustrates him; he doesn’t want anything alerting his ability to hear you. To assess what’s going on without being able to lay eyes on you.

A breathy sound pours in from the other side of the line. It sounds like you’re trying to laugh. “I wasn’t sure if you were working.”

Ice freezes his blood over. He can hear the crack in your voice, the quiet sniffling, the strain of you trying to hold yourself together. “What’s wrong?”

He knew you were working today, and his mind immediately starts to race with all the ways you could have gotten hurt. Did a dog bite you? Did you mishandle the scissors and cut yourself? You were accident prone, much so that he has to tie down the urge to wrap your hands in bubble wrap every time you come home from a shift in the salon.

“Just coming down from a panic attack, is all.” Your responses eases his nerves the tiniest fraction. “Something happened with a customer and my confrontation anxiety spiked. I’m sorry to bother you at work, I just really wanted to hear your voice.”

Caleb leans back in his chair, the tension in his body slowly starting to drain. He hates that someone managed to get to you this way. Hates that he isn’t there to shelter you while you recover from the encounter. But, you’re not hurt. Not physically, anyway.

“You don’t ever have to apologize for needing me. No matter what it is, I’m here for you.” He pauses to let you soak in his words. “Do you want to talk about it?”

And so he listens intently as you tell him a story that spans over the course of two days. At one point, one of the crew members poked his head into the Colonel’s office, but all it took was one silent glare from Caleb to send him away for now.

“And then I excused myself to call you.” You finished, the rawness of your voice evidence enough that you’ve become emotional again retelling the story. “My manager said I handled it very well, if there’s a silver lining to this.”

“And I agree with them.” Caleb speaks for the first time since you started your story. “I’m very proud of you, love. Don’t ever let anyone make you feel like you’re less than. You did what you could and put safety first. You followed all the right steps.”

This time, your giggle is less breathy, more genuine. “You don’t even work here. How do you know I followed all the right steps?”

“Because I know you. You don’t cut corners or take unnecessary risks. Now when safety of an animal is involved.” His brows narrow a little. “Though, I wish you considered your safety a little more.”

“I’ll try.” You promise, though Caleb isn’t sure if he believes you. “I should go. There are dogs waiting for me.”

“If you need me, call me. I mean it.”

“I know, and I will. I love you.”

His heart beats like a drum. “I love you, too.”

The line disconnects, and Caleb summons one of his subordinates. When he arrives, Caleb forwards him the name of a particular grooming salon.

The older man lifts both eyebrows in surprise. “Sir?”

Caleb rises from his chair and places his Colonel cap back on his head. “I want a list of clients that attended this place yesterday. Have it on my desk by this afternoon.”

“Y-Yes, Sir.”

@fictoweirdoesten asked to be tagged, and so I deliver

————

This is inspired by an awful weekend in the dog grooming salon I work at. If you’re curious about the whole story, keep reading.

One of the regulars had his Bernese Mountain Dog, who I’ll just refer to as W, booked in with me Saturday morning for a bath, brush out, nail trim and paw clean up. W is notorious for being hyperactive in the salon. He doesn’t sit still for ANYTHING - bath, blow drying, brushing, nails, NOTHING. It makes working with an already labour intensive breed even more strenuous. Because of how insanely busy Saturday was, W was even more hyper due to all the extra distractions. As such, I did not feel safe bringing scissors to his paws and made the call to send him home without his paws being trimmed, nor could I finish trimming his nails due to him bouncing around. I could tell the owner wasn’t happy, but all I could do was offer him to come back another day at a quiter time and we’ll finish it for him.

Fast forward to Sunday morning. This same owner returns with his other Bernese Mountain Dog, who I’ll call T. T was booked with me for the same service as W. T is more timid, but much easier to work with so I had no doubts I would get him fully finished. However, as soon as the owner saw it was me, he immediately starting complaining to the store manager (who was in the lobby dealing with something else) about what had happened with W the day before. So I explained to him AGAIN (this isn’t news to him btw, W is getting worse with each visit) why I wasn’t able to complete his paws. I also reexplained how W’s hyperactive behaviour combined with his thick coat prevented me from getting him done sooner, and why the salon is now enforcing the special handling fee on W.

My manager, having had time to read the notes on W’s file while I was talking to the owner, was filled in on the situation and backed me up. He still decided to leave T in my care, and I got him full finished without any hiccups in under 3 hours. We decided to put an alert on W’s file so he can no longer be booked with me going forward. W is a very sweet dog, but I refuse to deal with the owner regarding him again. T, however, I am still open to working with.

Thank you for coming to my Ted Talk.

[thatoneweirddreamer]

The Media Demon: Regress

[Note: I can't believe I'm doing this, @that-hazbin, I partially blame you for this, this is based on your media demon AU. I don't know if I will make another part of this. But for now, let's start with this first.]

Alastor knew that after Adam's last attack on him had given him an injury that would either heal very slowly or kill him if he wasn't careful and slowly start to heal up. But, for some reason, for some god damned reason that he still doesn't understand, he didn't leave the battlefield. He watched from the shadows as everything was happening and just as it seemed that Charlie was about to be killed by Adam from asphyxiation. He stepped in. He made a last-ditch effort to kill Adam and failed.

He attacked Adam from behind from the shadows and while Adam did let Charlie go to counter-attack him. Adam's attack, across his chest much like Adam's first fatal attack against him, but in an opposite manner, did more damage than what he was anticipating. But, for him, that was enough at the very least Charlie will have a chance of defeating or even killing Adam. Before Charlie or Adam could do anything else a blast of holy magic blasted Adam through the hotel roof and straight to the basement level.

'Well, it seems His Royal Shortness has finally arrived,' Alastor thought as his breath became wheezing, his lungs began to fail him as he lay on his back awaiting his second more permanent death to take hold, 'I do hope that they should just kill him, but the Princess wouldn't like that.'

His eyes began to blur as Charlie all, but clambered over to him in a panic, eyes filled with tears soon followed by Vaggie who was panicking, finally, Lucifer descended and immediately began trying to heal him also looking very much panicked and worried. 'Ah,' Alastor thought, 'Don't cry, Mon Faon.' Alastor tried to move his arms to wipe away Charlie's tears, but much like everything else his arms have also failed him.

His eyes trailed over Vaggie who was both trying to comfort Charlie and not cry and panic seeing him dying and then his eyes landed on Lucifer, who was doing his hardest to not look at him in the eye and concentrate on healing him. He used the last of his strength to grab one of Lucifer's hands and tried to drag the hands away from his chest when he grabbed Lucifer's wrist, Lucifer's eyes snapped straight onto him and made eye contact, Alastor could only give him this sort of pained grimace as his eyes held what both he and Lucifer know. He, Alastor, cannot be saved, but Lucifer only shook his head and as Lucifer's hands shook continued to try and heal him.

'This isn't the worst outcome I've thought of for myself, though it would be a shame to leave mon faon without any support, by now, His Majesty should step up, especially with me about to be gone.' From the edge of his eyes, he can see as the darkness slowly but surely consumes his sight. Lucifer's effort will only slow down his ensured death by a few seconds or a minute or 2 at most.

Rather than fighting it, Alastor gave in. Alastor stopped fighting against death and let it take him. Lucifer seemed to panic more and Charlie's cries grew louder as she tried to escape Vaggie's hold, who was also crying. Charlie was trying to get to Alastor to hug him. That was the last thing he saw before everything turned black for him.

______________________________

The first thing he knows is that he can no longer feel any pain, the second thing is that shouldn't he be dead. The final thing he noted was that he felt weak, magically and physically, but simultaneously, he was in perfect health? He finally put in an effort and opened his eyes and saw that he was in the middle of a crater in the middle of the streets in Pentagram City, and the feeling of deja vu. He climbed out of the crater he was in and nearly cursed without anything to cover his foul language. He knew those buildings, he recognised those old decrepit and out-of-date styles anywhere. This was the day he first arrived in hell. He was both thankful to whoever was behind this and cursing them to the high heavens.

Part 2 Part 3

[rs-hawk]

*cough cough*...i cant help but imagine the duchess making sure everyone gets out during a disaster, only for her to get trapped in the rubble. And the orc is the first to notice the duchess isnt anywhere in sight and goes to find her, getting her unconscious body out.

Orc Slave: Part Three

Dianthus woke you up, panic on his ethereal face. “Duchess! There’s a cave in coming!”

You try to blink away the sleepiness, your vision still hazy with sleep. “What?” You mutter, pushing yourself into a sitting position, rubbing your eyes.

The Fey quickly explains that he can feel the foundation under the manor shifting. The Dwarves from the nearby village obviously went too far west, compromising the the foundation, and with all those hollowed out tunnels underneath the manor, when it starts to fail, it will hit like an earthquake.

The blood drains from your face. Your fingers feel like they feel asleep whit the tingles in them. You try to take a breath, but your chest is tight. After a moment, you nod slowly. You can’t panic. If you do, no one will think clearly. Everyone looks to you.

“Okay,” you almost whisper the word, forcing air into your lungs. “We have to evacuate the servants first since they in the under stories, and there’s no way if the manor collapses they’ll survive. I’ll go tell my guests while you go tell the servants, okay?”

Dianthus hesitates. He’s so anxious his wings are flitting faster than you’ve ever seen them. It seems like it’s taking everything in him to not be fluttering to the ceiling. “But Duchess, I can’t just leave you,” he protests quietly.

“We don’t have time for this,” you say sternly. He hesitates for a moment longer before fluttering out of the room.

You smooth down your hair and get out of bed, pulling on your glove to cover the Orc bite and tusk marks on your arms from the attack you suffered as a child. For a moment, your mind flits to the Orc slave you recently acquired and worry pricks your brain, but you force it down. He should be in the servants quarters as well. He’ll be fine.

Then, the floor under you starts to shake. Your blood runs cold when you hear Dianthus scream. “Dia!” You shout, stumbling out of your room. He had been caught in a doorway, his wings pinned under a wooden beam.

“I’m okay, Duchess,” he lies, wincing as he turns to help you lift the beam off of his wings. He stands up on shaky feet.

You know that he’s not used to walking, so you make a quick decision. “Go get the Viscount and his wife. I’ll go get the servants.”

“You can’t! You need to get out now. The manor is already coming down,” Dianthus protests, wincing again as he tries to fold his wings against his back.

“That is a direct order, Dianthus. You get those two out and I’ll be right behind you, okay?” You feel the fear balling into a lump in your throat, but you can’t let everyone else die. The fear and panic makes your limbs feel numb. “Dianthus, did you hear me?”

“Yes ma’am,” he says quietly. He grabs your face, pressing his forehead against yours for a moment before running to the stairs. The gesture reminds you of when you were little. Tears prick your eyes, He’s always been there for you, always tried to take care of you. He’s the closest thing to family you have left.

After a moment you wipe your eyes and start hurrying down the stairs. No shoes, no outer clothes. Just your gloves and a night gown that is arguably scandalous. The servants have already begun trying to get everyone out, and most are horrified to see that you’ve come to check on them instead of getting out.

“Alright everyone, make sure you have your partner you decided on after the fire last year,” you call, trying to do a headcount, but you can’t remember everyone’s name or face.

“Mistress, you need to get outside,” the Housekeeper says worriedly. “This is everyone, and I’ll make sure they all get out.”

Your eyes flit this way and that, your shoulders relaxing slightly. The floor shifts, and there’s a few panicked cries, not no one seems to really get hurt. You nod for a moment, then do another quick scan.

“Where’s the Orc?” You ask, the lump in your throat returning.

The Housekeeper follows your gaze, shaking her head slowly. “I don’t… I don’t know, and there’s no way he could have gotten out without me seeing.”

“Get everyone out. I’m going to find him,” you say, lifting your nightgown to rush down the stairs, ignoring her shouting for you to wait.

Dust and derby are already settling this close to the cracking and crumbling foundation. You cough, pulling the collar of your dress up to cover your nose and mouth to try to be able to breathe. Now you’re kicking yourself, wishing that you had never taken this stupid position. Surely besides a title there is something else you could have gotten for saving the Prince. Now you have people’s lives in your hand, and every move you make affects them.

Outside, the Orc walks over to Dianthus. He had fallen asleep in the forge. “What is going on?” He asks gruffly, watching the other servants file out of the manor. Another quad rocks his feet, making him fall to one knee for a moment as he braces himself.

Dianthus explains the tunnels are collapsing, fussing over the Viscount and his wife, his injured wing tucked protectively against his back. The Orc huffs in acknowledgement. Then, after a moment, he asks, “And where’s the lady?”

“What?” Dianthus says, looking over at the Housekeeper and Butler, who are both doing a headcount. “She, she said that she was going to get the servants out…”

“I do not see her,” he mutters, scanning the crowd again.

The Housekeeper spots him and says something to the Butler before walking over to the Orc. “There you are! The Mistress was worried sick wondering where you went. Where did she find you?”

The Orc’s eyes dart to the entrance of the manor. “She didn’t.”

Before anyone else can process his words, he’s darting towards the manor. Easily he tosses the debris out of the way. Another quake makes the ground under his feet move, but he doesn’t stop. He’s cursing under his breath, covering his head as the upstairs start to cave in, narrowly missing collapsing on his head. He finds his way down to the servant quarters and starts shouting “Duchess!”. There’s no response.

He curses loudly again. “Why am I doing this for a stupid human? She probably realized I was not down here and got out already. Why am I risking himself for her?’

But despite his angry words, he makes his way down the stairs, having to squint his eyes to see through the dust. As he starts looking from room to room, he’s about to leave. He can’t see you anywhere. However, he hears a soft coughing from down the hall.

His loud footsteps sound like shotgun blasts as he runs down the hall, slamming his bare feet against the cobblestone. Under a small pile of stone and wood is your unconscious body.

“Y/N!” He shouts, forgetting formalities. He starts shoving it off of you, clawing at it like a wild animal. When he picks up your body, it’s with more care than he thought he was capable of. “You are alright. Everything is alright,” he murmurs agaisnt your hair, cradling you to his chest in one arm.

Using his free arm to shield your head, he manages to make his way to a servant’s entrance and get out the back of the manor. He can hear Dainthus now worriedly calling for you, and he can hear the flitting of wings, signalling the Fey is injuring himself further to look through the crowd.

“Over here!” the Orc shouts, getting you further from the manor before laying you down.

Your face is covered in soot and dust, and your clothes are torn. His eyes fall to your hands and arms- skin he’s never seen since you always keep them covered in those pristine white gloves that are now torn to shreds.

“Y/N, you fool,” Dianthus wails when he rushes over, a mix of a stumbling fall and a falling fly. He drops to your side, pressing his ear to your chest. His shoulders are rising and falling rapidly before he starts to calm down. He looks up at the Orc, tears now pouring down his angelic face, his ears twitching back. “She’s alive. She’ll be okay.”

The Orc is still staring at the obvious Orc bite and tusk marks on your arms. He blinks slowly, finally looking up at Dianthus. “Good… That is good.”