#doing a part 3 if you all would want just let me know

[endearng]

Special guest

Pairing: Spencer Reid x single mom!reader Summary: Olivia's birthday is coming up. She has a special guest in mind. WC: 1.7k Warnings: mentions of absent fathers (sorry); reader is borderline paranoid about letting her kid down; they are pining hard - Spencer looks at reader not so respectfully. Please, let me know if I missed anything. A/N: I try my best to not describe the reader so that everyone feels included, but I feel like I should work better on that. If you have any advice on it, I'd be very thankful to hear it! Second fic in less than 24h, ohmy. This is a second part to 'Stranger danger' Feedbacks are highly welcomed and appreciated. <3 neighbor!au masterlist | main masterlist

A few weeks had passed after the incident with the power in your building. Since then, you saw Spencer sometimes and he always greeted you politely. Olivia once told you that she liked him so much because he was a nice ghost — he told her stories about the books he read and she absolutely loved them, going to the point of asking if she could borrow them once he had finished reading.

Little did she know, she would never have to wait long.

Their interactions always made you speechless. How was your 5-year-old daughter better than you at starting conversations? You could barely look him in the eye, despite the fact that he always made sure to flash you the brightest smiles. You reciprocated, but then Olivia always had something to say: about his funny clothes, about the book she was reading for school, about your moments together — you had a scheduled commitment every Friday, to take Olivia to wherever she wanted to go. She was very observant, and, just like you, had the habit of taking mental notes of the beautiful places you saw during your walks. That's how she knew where the public library was and knew the best coffee in town — she demanded having the same beverage as you, but you told the barista secretly to make it decaf.

As you both put on your shoes in the morning to leave the apartment, you said, "Oli, your birthday is coming up. Do you want to do anything with mommy?"

"I want a birthday party."

That made you freeze in your tracks for a moment. You've been avoiding throwing birthday parties for two years now, because Olivia's day always ended with a tinge of heartbreak by the absence of her father, who had decided to leave the both of you and move overseas to, maybe, start over. It hurt you to try to comfort her with something you didn't have control of, but you did it anyway because you'd rather hurt yourself than let your baby go through that kind of disappointment alone. You didn't really know what he was up to, and honestly, you didn't want to, either. You were doing just fine without him, but she was his daughter and still a child, so you knew she still missed him.

Your hands were shaking slightly as you tied her shoelaces. "Bunny ears, remember?" You asked softly, showing her how to do it: you always did it in the mornings, but you made sure to teach her in case they undid during her day at school. She nodded at you, flashing a little toothless smile. "Okay, baby, we'll do that," you smiled, trying to ease off the tension.

"I want invitation cards. Like the ones you had!" She said, excitedly. You huffed out a laugh, endeared by the fact that she remembered all the papers you showed her with photos and other memories of your childhood.

"No problem, baby," you said, getting up, smoothing your pencil skirt and opening the door. She went to the hall to press the elevator button, "we can do it." You said, more to yourself than to her.

Two weeks passed and you had everything ready for Olivia's birthday with the help of your closests friends, Victoria and Jude. You were planning on throwing her party at your parents' house, which had a big, beautiful yard with space enough for the kids to play all they wanted. You had ordered Olivia's favorite cake, red velvet, and a lot of other treats that you knew she loved.

"You know she'll be drunk on sugar, right?" Victoria asked, laughing. She remembered the last time she took Olivia to the movies and she was electric during the way back.

"It's her birthday, once a year won't kill her. Maybe it'll kill me, but eh, what's the matter?" You joked lightly and your friends laughed.

Jude had a checklist in her hands. "Okay, let's go over this so we can go back to our yearly drinking like there's no tomorrow date. We have the place, the food, the decoration... oh, no. Where are the invitations?"

"Oh, I got it. They're in my room. I had to put it away because Oli wanted to read them over and over again."

They nodded as you left your living room, walking down the hall so you could get said invitations. You felt dread creeping up on you when you couldn't find them in the top drawer of your bedside table. "I can't find them!" You yelled loud enough for the women to hear you.

"Are you sure you placed them here?"

"Yes, I'm sure. Not sure what happened, though." You murmured, already feeling a little disappointed. "I gotta look for it now. She drew it herself and I took a lot of copies. I can't possibly tell her I lost them, she would be heartbroken." You sighed, pinching the bridge of your nose.

Victoria approached you to rub your arm, trying to comfort you. "Hey, we can look for it. We still have time." Jude said, smiling reassuringly.

"I know, I just don't wanna be too late." You said, giving them a tight-lipped smile.

So, you started looking for it in every corner of your apartment. You stayed in your bedroom, while Jude and Victoria went to Olivia's. You had cleaned the apartment today, a Saturday, when your daughter usually went to your parents', so that you'd have free time to spend and catch up with your friends. It was almost sundown, daylight fading softly and the lighting in your room was becoming darker as time went by. Suddenly, you heard your bell. Weird. You weren't expecting anybody.

"I'll get that!" You let your friends know.

Opening the door, you weren't expecting your neighbor. Rephrasing: the neighbor who Olivia adored so much. Spencer. That works, too. He has a name, after all. "Hey, hi!" He greeted you with a grin, looking shy.

"Hey, you!" You greeted him back. "Is everything okay?" You asked, a little unsure.

You took in his appearance. He looked tired, that's for sure, but it didn't stop him from looking like the most gorgeous man in existence. He wore his usual attire, carrying his caramel satchel leather bag. You didn't have an immediate answer, so you gulped when you noticed that you were looking a little longer than what's socially acceptable.

"Yeah, it's fine," he chuckled, unable to hold your stare for a moment longer. He considered, for a moment, that your daughter was the element needed for him to have a little confidence to speak when you were around. Well, shit. "I — um. I think these belong to you. I found it when I opened the door to my apartment." He extended you a bunch of papers. You blushed. You busied yourself so much with admiring him that you failed to notice that he had something in his hands.

He studied you for a moment. You looked beautiful that day. Not that you didn't look beautiful all the times you've seen him, but oh, well. Like the first time you met, you were wearing a dress. It was blue and it stopped mid-thigh. He had to stop himself from gulping at the sight of your bare, plush legs. It was different from what he was used to seeing you wear during working days, during the eventual elevator meetings. The dress hugged your curves beautifully, there was no question, like it had been made just for you. Your hair was loose and it fell over your shoulders. When you first answered the door, you had a worried frown on your face, but it quickly disappeared with his words. He felt relieved to see you get rid of your distress.

"Oh, goodness! Sorry about that. I was just looking for these." You gladly took them from his hand and your fingers accidentally brushed his. His hands were warm. "Olivia must have slided them under your door gap," you laughed nervously. You could feel two pairs of eyes looking at the interaction before them. You needed to brace yourself for their questions and very much possible teasing.

"Yeah, yeah. I supposed she did that, too." He laughed, quietly.

You thought for a moment. "You know, you should go. She really likes you. Talks about your conversations all the time and says she misses you when we don't run into you at some point." You revealed. It made Spencer's heart soar in his chest.

"Really?" He couldn't help but smile, even if he couldn't believe it. Not that you were a liar, but that it meant so much to your daughter to talk to him now and then. He felt alive at that moment, felt wanted. “I don’t want to impose.”

"Yeah, I mean, no! No problem, you wouldn’t be. We’d like to have you." You said, smile adorning your face. You took a card from your hands, offering it to him. "With us, I mean. It's going to be at my parents' house, we'll have a bunch of kids running around and cake." You surely looked like an idiot.

We’d like to have you, was all that he could hear.

Did you want him there for him or just because he was kind to your daughter?

Either way, "Thanks. I'll do my best to be there." He said, utterly happy. Saying your name lowly, followed by a 'goodbye', made your heart jump in your chest. You replied with a wave and a small grin. Your cheeks were sore from all the smiling. It was inevitable.

You turned around and had barely closed the door when Jude said, a little louder than her usual tone, "So, I see you found the invitation cards. I hope you gave one for Olivia's birthday party, not for a hot date." She playfully scolded you.

With wide eyes, you banged the door closed and turned around to yell, "Jude! What???"

Little did you know, Spencer heard it all. You know, thin walls, small distance and all. He grinned to himself, face flushed a deep red.

He was definitely looking forward to seeing you. And Olivia, too, of course. It was her birthday, after all.

[capuccinodoll]

Honey love, dark eyes

♡ Chapter three ♡

Summary: Life seems to smooth out with Travis, but an encounter with another Miller stirs your feelings again. Joel comes home at night, and a box waits for him at the kitchen. Word count: 4.8k A/N: Here is a shorter chapter (compared to the previous ones lol) while we're waiting for part 4… Can't wait for the Hoffman's barbecue. Joel isn't usually enthusiastic about it, but something tells me he's not going to miss it this time. ALSO, I have tried to tag all of you, but for some reason some tags don't work, if anyone knows how to fix it please let me know <3.

October 17th. The first thing you discovered was a black sweatshirt, crumpled and forgotten, stuffed in the back of your closet among old clothes and memories. You tossed it into the washing machine and set off to search your house for more of Joel’s things. It didn’t take long to find remnants of him: an old Pearl Jam T-shirt, a white mug bearing his initial that you’d pilfered a few months prior, a couple of CDs with his eclectic taste in music, a well-worn paperback novel, and a screwdriver—the very tool you had used to assemble the small piece of furniture for your bathroom, a testament to your attempts at domesticity.

You placed the T-shirt beside the sweatshirt in the washing machine, feeling a bittersweet nostalgia wash over you as the machine began to spin, the water swirling like your thoughts. The rest of his belongings you carefully set aside in a wooden box, considering when and if you would return them to him. Maybe it would be a gesture of goodwill, a way to close a chapter, but the thought of confronting him felt daunting, like standing on the edge of a cliff.

Three weeks later, the distance felt like a weight in your chest. You hadn’t spoken since that last conversation, and every accidental encounter with him had turned into a delicate dance of avoidance, your eyes darting away as if to shield yourself from the unspoken pain. You suspected he was doing the same—his awareness of your schedule precise, his movements deliberate. You didn’t blame him for it; there was a strange gratitude in the space he had created between you, a sanctuary that allowed both of you to breathe.

Sarah, on the other hand, was a constant presence in your life, her visits frequent and welcome. You couldn’t decipher what Joel had shared with her, but she was unequivocal in her understanding that something had shifted between you and her father. 

“Dad said I can come see you as long as I don’t ask too many questions and I don’t fall asleep,” she announced brightly the first afternoon she bounded into your home, just two days after your last exchange with Joel. “But I want you to know I won’t say anything if you want to tell me everything.” 

Her offer was a balm, and despite the lingering pain, you found yourself laughing, the weight lifting slightly as you embraced her. In that moment, you felt relieved to know that Joel had managed to compartmentalize, that his daughter was not to bear the burden of your heartbreak, nor was she responsible for the fallout. You wanted to continue seeing Sarah, and thankfully, she wanted to keep coming over, a small beacon of normalcy in a turbulent time. That connection remained untainted by the rift between you and Joel.

The clock ticked on, and now it was five o’clock on a crisp afternoon. You stood in your front yard, the late autumn sun warming the back of your neck as you surveyed your plants. Closing your eyes, you savored the gentle warmth, the way it wrapped around you like a familiar embrace. Your lawn and those of your neighbors glowed with the fiery hues of orange and yellow, leaves fluttering like confetti in the soft breeze. It was, as always, your favorite season.

Suddenly, a voice broke through your reverie, calling your name. You turned to see Travis crossing the street, his smile brightening the drab fall afternoon. You waved back, unable to suppress a smile of your own as he approached.

“Enjoying the sunshine?” he asked, stopping beside you, his hand settling on your waist as he leaned in to plant a soft kiss on your cheek.

“As much as I can,” you replied, a warmth spreading through you that was both comforting and surprising. Your gaze dropped momentarily to your feet before lifting back to meet his. “Going somewhere?”

“On a quest for dessert,” he said, a playful glint in his eyes. “Care to join?”

You hesitated, considering for a moment. “I’d better stay and get some work done,” you replied, gesturing toward your front door with a tilt of your head. “But let me know when you get back; I’d love to help with dinner.”

He nodded, a flicker of disappointment passing across his face before he masked it with a smile. After a brief goodbye, he left, giving your waist a gentle squeeze that sent a flutter through your stomach, leaving you feeling both elated and unsettled.

Two weeks prior, you had watched him run past your house, clad in sports gear, hair damp with sweat. There was something magnetic about him; he looked so effortlessly good that a rush of something—determination? Recklessness?—had surged through you. You couldn’t let your past with Joel hold you hostage any longer. It was absurd to keep Travis waiting, simply because you hadn’t been sure of what you felt, or how you should feel. So, you had gathered your courage and knocked on his door, your heart racing at the thought of stepping out of the shadows of your previous life.

When Travis opened the door, his surprise morphing into delight had made your resolve solidify. You’d admitted to him that you were navigating a rough patch, and to his credit, he seemed to understand without pressuring you further. That night, he whisked you away for dinner, and in the weeks that followed, the ease of your time together became a welcome reprieve. 

He was everything you needed—funny, honest, and refreshingly straightforward. He laid his feelings out without demanding anything from you, giving you space to breathe, to recalibrate. You had shared meals together, enjoying his company, indulging in laughter and sweet treats that he always brought, knowing they were your guilty pleasure. 

With him, everything felt uncomplicated, and the more time you spent together, the more you sensed your feelings beginning to shift, like the autumn leaves around you. That night, you resolved to let him make the first move, ready to embrace whatever came next.

*

“What did you think?” Travis asked, his gaze lingering on you, as if the answer might reveal something bigger.

You let out a laugh, the kind that builds in the chest and escapes before you can decide whether it’s actually funny or just absurd. “That was… utterly ridiculous,” you said, watching the movie credits roll up the screen. “Ridiculous and completely unbelievable.”

He grinned, sinking back into the couch beside you, his eyes meeting yours with a glint of shared amusement. “Right? It’s like... a marvel in chaos. Terrible, but in a way that you can’t look away.”

You raised an eyebrow, feeling a mix of disbelief and fondness for his strange taste in movies. Zombeavers. He’d made you watch Zombeavers—a movie so bizarrely nonsensical that you couldn’t help but laugh half the time, its zombie-beaver puppets meant to be terrifying but only succeeding in being bizarre. He’d assured you beforehand that it was purely for fun, the kind of film that didn’t demand to be taken seriously, and you’d been dubious but willing.

As your laughter softened, you shifted just a little closer to him, that familiar but thrilling nervousness making your heart flutter. Travis had turned his attention to scrolling through movie options, his fingers lightly tapping the remote as he concentrated. For a brief moment, you hesitated, wondering if it was obvious—how close you were, how much you wanted him to notice. Gathering your courage, you rested your head on his shoulder, letting your gaze drift up to his face just as he glanced down, his eyes softening.

“Are you sleepy, pretty girl?” he murmured, and his voice had that gentle, familiar warmth that made you feel like a teenager again. Your cheeks flushed, and you wondered if he could feel your pulse quicken against him.

“No,” you replied, your voice barely more than a whisper as you smiled up at him. Tentatively, you lifted a hand to trace the line of his jaw, your fingers grazing his skin as you tilted his face closer. “I just like being with you.”

Travis’s smile deepened, and he leaned in, his hand cradling your face with such tenderness that it nearly broke something in you. His lips met yours softly, a gentle touch, unhurried and respectful, his thumb brushing lightly across your cheek. You sank into the kiss, letting it ground you, feeling cherished and safe in a way you hadn’t for a long time.

But there, at the edge of your mind, was Joel. Joel with his intense, almost possessive hunger, the way he’d kiss you as if he were afraid he’d never have the chance again. That rawness, the recklessness—it was such a stark contrast to Travis’s gentle control, his restraint. And part of you hated yourself for even thinking about it, for craving something so reckless, for missing what you knew wasn’t good for you.

You pulled back slowly, afraid that your eyes might betray the swirl of conflicting feelings inside you. Travis’s gaze lingered, his hand still on your cheek, and he seemed almost reluctant to let you go, waiting for you to guide him back in. His patience was admirable, though you felt a strange frustration at the lack of urgency, the careful distance he maintained.

“I’m actually a little tired,” you said, giving him a quick peck on the lips, hoping he wouldn’t see through the slight restlessness in your eyes. “But I’d love to see you tomorrow. How about dinner at my place?”

He nodded, his face brightening. “Sounds perfect.” He stood, reaching out a hand to help you up. “I’ll walk you to your door, and that's just an excuse for another goodnight kiss.”

You laughed, reaching for his hand and letting him pull you up, feeling the warmth of his arm around you as you leaned against him. Outside, the air was brisk, the night cool against your skin, and you wished you’d thought to bring a jacket. Not that it mattered much; Travis lived just across the block, a short walk away, but close enough to Joel’s house that the proximity always felt strange. 

Crossing the street, you noticed Joel’s truck wasn’t there, and you willed yourself not to dwell on it, tuning back in to Travis’s voice as he asked, “Are you going?”

You blinked, caught off guard. “Going where?” you asked, your voice apologetic. “Sorry, I zoned out for a second.”

“To the Hoffmans’ barbecue,” he said easily, unbothered by your momentary distraction.

Ah, the Hoffmans’ annual Halloween gathering, an event known for Brenda’s culinary enthusiasm and Ian’s grill mastery. Last year, Brenda had baked an array of spooky treats—eyeball jellies, spider cupcakes, you name it. Sarah had devoured at least ten jelly eyes, and you’d indulged in an uncountable number of chocolate spiders. The evening had ended with a viewing of Nightmare on Elm Street, and everyone had left buzzing with laughter and sugar.

“Yes, of course,” you replied, nodding with more enthusiasm. “Wouldn’t miss it. Brenda is amazing at baking. Have you tried her red berry cupcakes?”

“They’re dangerous,” Travis agreed, grinning as he walked you up to your doorstep.

A flicker of movement caught your eye, and you glanced over to see Tommy, Joel’s brother, sitting on the front porch of Joel’s house, a cigarette hanging lazily from his fingers. He watched you with a friendly, knowing smile, and you couldn’t help but smile back, though you quickened your pace slightly as you reached your door.

“So, what time tomorrow?” Travis asked, tilting his head.

“Eight?” you suggested, feeling an odd mix of excitement and unease.

“Perfect,” he replied, and once again his hand lifted to your cheek, thumb tracing the curve softly. But as he leaned in to kiss you, you couldn’t shake the feeling of invisible eyes from across the street, watching. Your mind lingered, unbidden, on Tommy’s piercing gaze.

Travis leaned down, and you met his kiss, brief, almost rushed, pulling away with a small, nervous smile. “I’ll see you tomorrow,” you whispered, glancing up at him before stepping back. “Goodnight.”

“Goodnight, gorgeous,” he murmured.

You stood watching him leave, distractedly thinking about the evening you'd spent. You were annoyed that you hadn't accepted his date earlier, and at the same time, you didn't blame yourself too much. 

When Travis walked into his house and closed the door, an involuntary sigh escaped your chest.

"Everything okay over there?" Tommy’s voice jolted you out of your thoughts, sounding like a splash of cold water. He was sitting on the front steps, watching you with a casual curiosity that somehow felt entirely too knowing.

You approached slowly, glancing toward the empty entrance of Joel’s house.

"Hey, Tommy," you greeted, a hint of melancholy coloring your voice. It was strange, seeing him here alone—another Miller, but not the one who lingered in your mind. "How are you?"

Tommy stubbed out his cigarette on the step, shrugging with a small grin. "Well, currently on a break from babysitting duty," he joked. "What about you? It’s been a while—what’d Joel do now?"

A chuckle slipped from your lips, the irony of it all making your stomach tighten. He probably didn’t know anything, yet he’d been part of Joel’s carefully built wall of deception. It made you feel odd, but you brushed the feeling aside.

"I've just been busy," you said, knowing how unconvincing it sounded.

Tommy nodded, understanding the subtext without question. "Right," he said, an amused smile forming, "So, Dunn got the girl?"

You couldn’t help but smile back, though you realized too late that your openness might be ill-placed. "Yeah. He’s a good man. I really like him."

It felt surreal, sharing this with Joel’s brother, but somehow you didn’t mind.

"Sarah’s asleep?" you asked, changing the subject, hoping for some distraction.

He nodded, his smile softening. "Out like a light right after dinner. Poor kid didn’t even try the ice cream she begged me to get for movie night." He chuckled, shaking his head.

You smiled at the image, letting yourself savor the thought of Sarah, the cozy living room, the quiet warmth that had always drawn you to this house. It felt bittersweet, like glimpsing a life you no longer fit into. The last time you’d been there flickered in your mind, and any warmth vanished.

When you glanced back at Tommy, he was watching you, brow furrowed slightly, as if trying to read what you weren’t saying.

"I don’t mean to pry," he began cautiously, his tone gentle. "But Joel’s been… well, intolerable lately. Can I ask what happened?"

You raised an eyebrow, a sardonic smile creeping onto your lips. "Sure, Tommy," you replied, a touch of sarcasm bleeding through. "He hasn’t told you anything?"

"Are you kidding?" He laughed, shaking his head. "I asked him once, a couple of days ago, and he practically bit my head off."

You let out a dry sigh, crossing your arms. "He lied to me, pretty sure you know about that," you said, feeling the weight of it again. "We argued, and… things just happened."

Tommy’s eyes widened slightly, but the look of surprise faded quickly, replaced by a knowing smile. He stood up, crossing his arms as he stepped closer, his gaze amused and unrelenting.

"I knew it," he said, his grin widening. "You two slept together."

Your mouth fell open, and you dropped your arms, an incredulous laugh escaping.

"Shut up," you muttered, taking a step forward, cheeks flushing.

Tommy laughed, as if this moment had been a long time coming. "I always knew it would happen," he said, his tone only half-joking. "Ever since Joel introduced you, I swear, the guy had heart eyes and all. Poor guy looked like he was about to carve your name into every tree from here to the city limits. It was almost embarrassing."

You shook your head, a pang of sadness pressing on your chest. "That’s not it, Tommy. That’s not… it’s not true."

He studied you, unconvinced, his brow furrowing slightly, though the amused glint remained in his eyes.

"Joel doesn’t want this. He doesn’t want… us," you continued, your voice quiet but certain. "And honestly, I don’t think I do either." The words tasted bitter even as you said them, yet you held his gaze, determined to mean it. "I think I might actually like Travis."

"I see." Tommy’s nod was slow, his eyes searching yours as if detecting the truth you weren’t quite hiding.

“Where is he?” The question slipped out before you could stop it, and you almost wished you could take it back. You shouldn’t be concerned about where Joel was spending his nights. But curiosity itched at you, demanding answers.

Tommy hesitated, rubbing his hand over his mouth, glancing off as if debating whether to answer. The pause made you anxious, and you shifted under his gaze, feeling exposed. "He, um, he went to see—"

"Sienna," you finished, the name coming out like a blade you hadn’t prepared for. Tommy’s nod confirmed it, and you felt it cut a little deeper than you’d anticipated.

The thought of Joel being with her after being with you twisted something fierce and raw inside. Yet, a part of you was oddly grateful for the pain; it reminded you just how little he’d been affected by all of this, how seamlessly he’d returned to life as it had been. Why should he have changed anything for one night? That didn’t mean enough to make him reconsider Sienna, his plans, his life without you. It was unbearable and somehow clarifying.

With your voice steadier than you expected, you looked back at Tommy. "Can you do me a favor?"

"Sure."

"Come with me for a second." You spun on your heel, heading toward your house, and you heard Tommy’s footsteps fall into step behind you. Inside, you gestured for him to wait in the foyer, then climbed the stairs, your heart pounding. A rush of resentment, of something close to fury, washed over you. You had to rid yourself of everything that still held you back to him, everything he’d left behind.

When you came back down, you were carrying a box, simple and impersonal. Tommy glanced at it, lifting an eyebrow. "What’s that?"

"A couple of Joel’s things. Be a dear and save me the trip of bringing them back to him." You smiled tightly, the effort to stay composed nearly exhausting you.

Tommy laughed, clearly amused by the defiance in your expression.

"Yes, ma’am," he said with a grin, giving you a small salute as he took the box. You watched him step over the threshold, the box in his hands, feeling a strange mix of relief and something hollow.

"Thank you, Tommy," you said softly, closing the door as he left. Alone in the quiet of your house, your shoulders slumped, and all the strength you’d gathered felt like it was leaking away, leaving behind the ache of realization. Joel wasn’t just far from you; he was unreachable, a memory already fading, three weeks stretching like an eternity between you and the friend he’d once been.

*

Joel opened the door slowly, shoulders slumped, his gaze dropping to the floor before he even stepped inside. The house was dark and quiet, as if it were waiting for him to finally fill it. He glanced around the empty living room, feeling the stillness of the space, then checked the time on his wristwatch: 11 p.m. It felt later than that, somehow.

“Tommy?” he called, his voice breaking the silence as he moved into the kitchen, where he found his brother, casually leaning against the counter with a bowl of ice cream, looking like he’d been waiting all night.

“How was your night?” Tommy asked, raising an eyebrow, his tone almost amused, as if he were privy to some unspoken secret.

Joel exhaled, the kind of tired sigh that settled deep in his chest, and dropped heavily into one of the wooden chairs at the table. He rubbed a hand across his forehead, dragging it down over his mouth before resting it on the table, the weariness of the day palpable in the lines of his face. His eyes met Tommy’s probing gaze, and he tilted his head, frowning slightly.

“Fine,” he replied, his tone clipped and a little defensive. “How was Sarah?”

“She conked out right after dinner,” Tommy replied, a smirk beginning to play at the corners of his mouth, his eyes narrowing with that look of brotherly mischief. “And how was Sienna?”

Joel rolled his eyes, leaning back in the chair, shaking his head as if he could shake off the whole conversation.

“Are you staying over?” he asked after a few beats, redirecting, his voice carefully casual.

Tommy chuckled. “Only if you, sir, will permit me,” he replied with a mock salute.

“Fine,” Joel muttered, getting up from his seat. “Do what you want, but don’t be a pain in my ass,” he added, half-serious, half-amused, as he walked over to the counter beside his brother.

He pulled open the fridge, grabbing a bottle of water. Tommy watched him, saying nothing, but his gaze lingered, curious, perceptive. Joel poured water into a glass, bringing it to his lips, pausing for a long drink before turning to face his brother. He could feel Tommy’s gaze boring into him, the silence thickening between them.

Joel looked up, his own gaze steady.

“What?” he asked, the word flat, all pretense of patience gone.

“Nothing,” Tommy said, drawing the word out, clearly testing the limits of Joel’s patience. Then, almost too casually, he tilted his chin toward a box resting by the wall across the kitchen.

Joel followed his gaze, his brow furrowing as he walked over. He lifted the box, feeling the weight of it in his hands, then set it down on the counter. With a cautious look at Tommy, he placed his hands on the lid, hesitating.

“What’s this?” he asked, a note of suspicion in his voice.

Tommy leaned back, watching him with a faint smile playing at the edges of his mouth.

“Your girl next door gave it to me,” he replied, each word almost too measured. “Said it was yours.”

For a few moments, Joel just stood there, as if frozen, processing Tommy’s words. He looked down, finally lifting the lid and peering inside. There, neatly folded, was his sweatshirt—the one he’d handed you one chilly evening when he picked you up from work. Beneath that was his old Pearl Jam t-shirt, the one you’d borrowed after a swim in his pool last summer. His favorite coffee mug sat tucked in the corner, along with a few CDs, a dog-eared paperback he’d loaned you weeks ago. Each item seemed to carry its own little echo of the time he’d spent with you.

After a few seconds, Joel placed the lid back on the box, sliding it away from him with a muted thud. He kept his expression steady, but his jaw was set, and his eyes remained fixed on the counter.

“When did she give it to you?” he asked, his voice strained but steady.

“A few moments ago,” Tommy said with a shrug, holding back a smirk as he noticed the tightness in Joel’s expression. “Saw her walking back from Dunn’s house, actually.”

Joel let out a dry, sardonic laugh, a smile twisted in disbelief. "Right. Of course."

"Actually," Tommy said, savoring another spoonful of ice cream, "he walked her to the door, all sweet-like. Gave her the whole mushy goodnight routine—kiss, movie shit." His gaze stayed fixed on the bowl, though Joel could see the glint of mischief there, Tommy barely holding back a grin.

Joel’s fingers drummed on the counter, his gaze hardening. “Good for her,” he muttered.

Tommy didn’t look up, just continued with his ice cream, though there was a glint of amusement in his eyes. “Sure she looked that way to me.”

“Like I care,” Joel muttered, his gaze fixed hard on the box beside him, fingers curling against the edge as if steadying himself. “I can bet everything I’ve got she doesn’t even like him that much. That guy isn’t worth it, and she knows it.” 

Tommy’s mouth quirked with amusement as he leaned back against the counter.

“Too bad that’s not up to you,” he said, casually pushing Joel’s buttons, almost like he enjoyed watching his brother’s patience fray. “She looked happy. And for what it’s worth, in her own words, she does like him.” 

Joel’s frown deepened, his eyes narrowing as he glared at Tommy, as if by sheer force he could undo his brother’s last statement. “Wait—you asked her? Tommy, you better not be going around—” 

“Relax,” Tommy cut in, hands raised in mock surrender, though there was still a hint of smugness in his expression. “We just had a small conversation, okay? Didn’t even mention you.” 

Joel let out a sharp, bitter laugh, though his face betrayed a flicker of something raw. His fingers tapped the box, restless and resentful, as if it were the box’s fault for bringing up everything he didn’t want to admit. Then, his voice low and clipped, he gestured to the countertop. “Clean this up when you’re done,” he said, his tone rough. “And don’t piss me off.” 

Without another word, Joel turned on his heel and headed for the stairs, each step heavy and quick, like he couldn’t get away fast enough. The tension in his back, the way his shoulders held too much weight, said enough. Who did Tommy think he was, coming in here with all that, telling him things he didn’t need to hear? He didn’t care about any of it. As far as he was concerned, you could date Travis, marry him if that’s what you wanted. None of it mattered to him. 

But as he climbed the stairs two at a time, his mind raced against his will. You’d been clear, hadn’t you? You didn’t want him in your life. No friendship, no connection, nothing. The words echoed, hollow and yet heavy. And as he reached the top of the stairs, he wondered how many more nights he’d have to wrestle with that idea, struggling to wrap his head around a life where you were nothing more than a memory he had to stop revisiting.

The sooner he accepted it, the easier it would be to see you with Travis, to manage the surge of irritation at the thought of his hands on you, to ignore the image of his arm slung casually around your shoulders. If he could accept it—if he did accept it—it would get easier, right? At least that’s what he told himself. He didn’t care. Obviously, he didn’t care.

He didn’t care that you’d decided to shut him out. Didn’t care that you were so resolute about it, that you barely seemed to miss him. He certainly didn’t care that he’d rearranged his mornings and evenings so he wouldn’t have to see you by accident. It wasn’t as if he still glanced at your door every time he came home, half-hoping he’d see you there, offering a smile and some easy excuse to stay. No, he wasn’t dwelling on how long it had been since he’d heard your voice or felt the comfortable warmth of your hand against his. Nearly a month now. And he was perfectly fine with it, honestly. It didn’t bother him one bit.

So fine, in fact, that he ended things with Sienna over dinner without a moment’s hesitation. Her face had gone blank with surprise, but he’d brushed it off, even throwing in some lie about being “too busy” to make it work, anything to avoid her prying questions. She’d looked at him, confused but oddly resigned, as if she’d sensed his mind had been elsewhere for a while. He didn't care, he was fine with it.

But later that night,Travis Dunn had brought you to your door—walked you up, murmured something as he leaned close, maybe kissed you goodnight. Joel didn’t know the details, but the image of it burned into his mind anyway. He sat in his room alone, a bitter laugh escaping his throat, mocking himself for how easily he’d let the thought take root. You, wrapped up with Dunn. Pf.

In the darkness of his bedroom, Joel sat on the edge of his bed, looking at the empty space beside him, the silence amplifying every unspoken word, every unfulfilled touch. He was fine with it. Of course he was. He repeated it in his mind, willing himself to believe it, even as a hollow ache throbbed in his chest.

And as if the universe were doubling down on the irony, that night he dreamed of you.

-

@yesjazzywazzylove-blog @cosmic006533-blog @doblasftcisco @maiyart @concrete-jungleeee @playboygirlsnextdoor00 @maryfanson @rosebuds-and-moonlight @the-universe-is-complicated @formulafun @chewie-bars @glizzymcguirex @pedroswife69 @ivoryandflame @dixonswingz @sarahhxx03 @mellymbee @dailyobsession @msmorningstaarr @mystickittytaco @xxreginaxx @marellabyr @spacegirl-3 @alrihhty @heheheilovepedro @svrgs-blog @94namkooksworld @puddles221b @cowboymcflurry @medusaandposeidonshead @stylesispunk @sweatpeakarolinaa @puddles221b @deansimpalagirl @jasminedragoon @lover-of-books-and-tea @whimsiwitchy @cuteanimalmama @theherothesavior @ivoryandflame @auteurdelabre

[katiascraft]

“I need to confess. I told you a lie. I said you were the love of my life.” | LN4

part 2 of this.

Parings: Lando Norris x Ex!Bisexual!Reader.

Summary: after leaving Lando, you realized what real love was like. Unfortunately, he didn’t and all he could think about every time he looks at his new parter is you.

Now playing: “L’AMOUR DE MA VIE” by Billie Eilish.

Word count: +2k.

Warnings: angst (?) insults (?) cursed words. Not a native English speaker so there could be (so many) errors. Not proofread.

Author’s note: maybe this sucks. well I don’t know but I just came to this idea for a part 2 no one asked of this but yeah. Reader deserved a happy ending ❤️‍🩹 Don’t forget to like, comment or reblog! And follow me so we can be friends :3 (and drink mate together!)

MASTERLIST

It’s been 10 months since the worst day of your life. The day you had enough of the place that you weren’t enough for. The place who made you so miserable and insecure. The place that broke you in so many pieces it turned you to dust. The place where you never want to go back to.

It’s been the hardest 10 months of your life. Mourning the life you thought you would have forever was the worst process you got yourself through. How you had to not only get over your ex, Lando, but also the you that wasn’t gonna be you anymore for the rest of your life. And that was the hardest past. Let go of who you were when he was in your life and let go of all the memories. It was like learning to be a functioning human being again. And you also thought you couldn’t bear with being single. You felt so ashamed of not remembering how to approach people or even how to feel attractive yourself. You were nothing after that day.

For your family and friends was heartbreaking too. Not only because they had to mourn lando that now was out of your life so then their lives as well, but also the you they knew before and during the relationship. And now learning to know this new you.

It was hard for the first 3 months but thanks to your friends and intense therapy sessions you eventually got better. You started discovering a part of yourself you didn’t know existed. Leaving lando changed you not 180 degrees but 360. You changed your style, your hair, your humor, your attitude. You spoke up. Had a strong opinion. You started being more selective with people and for a long time you remained single. you worked on you. Trying to give yourself back everything that relationship took away. You made new friends and moved to New York to start a new life. In that city you found you loved music and storytelling so you started a musical career on YouTube and became kind of famous. You also went to university. And now you’re a content creator, you upload vlogs of your everyday life and opinions. You love fashion like crazy and post your outfits on Instagram and TikTok along with your music. And you are back into being happy. Not only with your life but with yourself. You love who you are and what you do for a living. There’s no one you have to follow or leave everything behind. You live now in your own world where you are the thing that matters the most. You feel so grateful you made it through.

But you were also madly loved for who you are. Tania was your new girlfriend. You didn’t even know you liked girls as well. You tried with guys but none of them felt right for you until you met Tania in a little music shop two blocks away from your apartment. It was the most romantic way of meeting someone you believed. You two went to the same shop to buy the same album and oh coincidence of life there was only one copy of it. And that’s how you met. She gave it to you and so you offered her to come to your place and listen to it together. Yeah you offered that to a stranger but she looked so beautiful. You felt something so weird you haven’t ever felt before in your life. His blonde hair so shiny and his brown eyes so deep you could drown in them with no problem. She was gorgeous.

In fact, you never felt so seen until you met her. The way she actually listened to what you had to say. The way he understood your insecurities and tried to help you and figure it out together. The way you could laugh for hours non-stop until you went dry from crying of laughter. When you felt how you felt with her you knew Lando didn’t matter at all. He never loved you for who you were. He never appreciated all of the sacrifices you did for him just because you thought you loved him your entire life. The way you listened and supported him anywhere, anyhow, whenever. You gave everything for him, but what about you? He never noticed you. He never saw you. He never cared about you.

Realizing that hurt at first but then you understood it was the wrong person at the wrong time. Because if you hadn’t been through what he put you through then this wouldn’t be your life and you wouldn’t be this loved.

But you know what they say, life’s a bitch so here you were again in Monaco for Alexandra’s birthday. It was gonna be a huge event in a yacht for all of her friends. So of course you knew lando was coming and you also knew because of Alex he had a new girlfriend as well. You weren’t intimidated by him but you felt a little insecure you know. You felt rather uncomfortable. But Alex was your friend and she was so nice she invited Tania as well and few of your hometown friends so you wouldn’t feel left apart. Alex knew you so well. You always have struggled with fitting in. She was really sweet. But at the same time you were also so excited to see the guys again. You talked to Pierre and kika. They were so excited to see you. You missed them all of course you did. Moving countries and having an ex who drives along them made things ticky. It was complicated to meet and hang around outside weekend races during the year and of course you wouldn’t assist knowing lando was there. You didn’t want to see him. So tonight is fireproof. If you see him again and survive then the paddock should get ready to see you every now and then with you gorgeous girl.

She knew about Lando of course. And she was the most supportive angel to you. Of course she also hated him. And probably could kill him if you let her. But she won’t just because you asked her.

you were going by taxi. You didn’t have your car because you were on the other side of the world and you wouldn’t waste money renting one just to go to a party in a yacht. You didn’t care about appearances anymore. You got to the harbor just in time. Most of the invited guests were already there. You got there with Tania in your hand and your group of friends. You looked around seeing so many familiar faces and the first one to run to you and hug you tightly was Kika followed by Pierre. You giggled on her shoulder hugging her as well.

“Oh my god girl you look fucking beautiful what the fuck I missed you so much” she said on your shoulder so excited to see you. It flattered your heart.

“I missed you too, my love” you said sweetly. And when you pulled apart you hugged Pierre and introduced Tania to them. They were always so warm. You really missed them. A few minutes passed and you were talking along with a lot of the formula 1 drivers and their partners just like the old days. You felt so part of it. And so loved. And all of them were so nice to Tania. She was so excited that she met Max and he posed for a picture with her that it melted your heart completely. You didn’t see lando by the way. He hasn't arrived yet. But Carlos didn’t either so probably they were coming together. After 15 minutes, the birthday girl finally arrived with her prince in hand and all of the guests were there. The yacht was ready as well. Lando was there with her. You knew her of course you did. She was friends with Max and Kelly. Of course you remember her. Lando is so predictable. You wanted to laugh in his face but you didn’t. You didn’t even say hi. You didn’t want to and you guess he didn’t either because he barely looks at you when he arrived.

(…)

The party was formidable and you were already drunk laughing and posing. Kika was trying to take a couple of pictures of you and Tania and the sunset behind you. It was a beautiful picture.

“Oh my god you’re so beautiful” she said finally ending the photo shoot so she showed you the pictures.

It felt so satisfying being back and not giving a fuck about Lando. All of the guys were so welcoming and sweet like they always had been with you.

Tania had to go to the bathroom. “You want me to go with you titi?” You called her by her nickname you created. She smiled and gave you a kiss on your lips.

“I’m okay baby. I’ll be right back” she said and after giving you one last kiss she disappeared through all of the people around heading to the bathroom. You stayed with your group of friends dancing around and having fun. Alex was there two sharing with all of us. You loved that woman. She was one of your closest friends who was there with you to hold you and listen. She knew what it was like. But she is loved unlike you weren’t. You were enjoying yourself until you heard someone clearing their throat like exaggerated. You turned to find lando clearly drunk looking at you with puppy eyes yet so dark. You of course didn’t like to see him.

“Y/n we need to talk” he said almost in a whisper so no one could hear him but you. Inside you felt disgusted. His voice was once your favorite sound, one that could send chills down your spine. Now it kinda repulses you.

“No, we don't need Lando. Just pretend I don’t exist” you said clearly upset by his behavior.

“But I can’t y/n. I couldn't stop looking at you since I arrived. I can’t get you out of my head. I tried. But I don’t know what else to do!” He was clearly drunk. And you were unbothered to be honest. You noticed Carlos and Oscar heard him and looked at you. You just rolled your eyes at lando.

“Then it’s not my fucking problem lando. You had me but you couldn’t give a damn about me. Sorry it's too late. I’m happy now and I am loved” you spitted about to turn when he grabbed your arm for you not to go.

“You said I was the love of your life. What happened to that? I know you’re the love of my life. Please, y/n” he said kind of desperately. You looked at him with a poker face. You felt nothing at all. And yes you were surprised but also so proud. Lando Norris meant nothing at all finally. He couldn’t move you. He didn’t have power over you anymore. You won.

“Well then I need to confess I lied. You weren’t the love of my life Lando. You were the motherfucker of my life. You fucking destroyed me. So stop with all of this bullshit” you said Angry. You were saying the truth without being afraid of it. You didn’t care anymore. Now your life is yours and he had no power over it. And you’re fucking happy. You just needed to make sure he knew it. And watch him suffer. And you could see something broke inside of him when he heard you saying that. Fortunately Tania came back from the bathroom just in time.

“Y/n, babe, is everything alright?” She asked, watching lando a little confused but controlling her desires to kill him right there.

You smiled at her. “Yeah beba all good now that you are here” you said, grabbing her by her waist and kissing her gently. She grabbed your face a little surprised at first. But she couldn’t say no to your lips. She was addicted. you didn’t care lando was there. You just kissed and turned to your group of friends ignoring that he was the guy you loved just like he did when he was with you.

[simplygojo]

Haunted Party - Nanami Kento

Author's Note: Hey gang, I have FINALLY finished all my kinktober fics (do not expect any smut from me anymore LMAO) and have finished it off with an entry for @fizee's Fic-Or-Treat event!!! I HOPE ONE OF YOU LIKE THIS I GOT HORRID WRITERS BLOCK <3

Fic-Or-Treat

Spooky Szn Masterlist

Pairing: Nanami Kento x f!reader

Word Count: 3.6K

Kinktober Taglist: @nanamisrighthand @simplyyyuji; @megumisdivinedogs; @lovleyredheadfairy

Warnings: 18+ SMUT, MDNI, fingering, semi-public sex, haunted encounters.

The insurance company you worked for had a reputation for hosting some of the most extravagant Halloween parties. 

Every year, they outdid themselves, turning lavish venues into eerie, haunted wonderlands filled with masked guests, dark costumes, and enough mystery to last until the next morning. This year was no different. 

The theme was a "Haunted Royal Court," and the moment you arrived at the grand mansion, you could feel the weight of the night—luxurious yet unsettling, the perfect setting for an evening that would inevitably end in indulgence.

The chandeliers in the dimly lit entrance hall flickered ominously as you stepped inside, your heels clicking softly on the marble floor. 

Cobwebbed tapestries lined the walls, the candlelight casting ghostly shadows over the guests mingling in their regal, haunted costumes. 

A subtle sense of unease lingered in the air, but you knew that wasn’t just because of the atmosphere. It was because of him.

Kento Nanami.

Last Halloween had been the first–and last–time something had happened between you two. 

The party that year had been just as extravagant, and after hours of drinks and stolen glances, the tension had exploded in a way you hadn’t expected. 

By the end of the night, you’d found yourself in the parking lot, pressed up against his sleek black car, Nanami’s hands gripping your hips while his lips claimed yours in a moment of raw desire. 

His usually composed demeanour had crumbled as the two of you fucked right there, under the cover of darkness, driven by alcohol and an unspoken need that neither of you had ever acknowledged. 

But after that night, things had gone back to normal. 

You didn’t talk about it. Neither of you had brought up the rushed, heated encounter that left your skin tingling for days. In fact…you practically never saw him in the office after that.

Maybe you both had reasons to pretend it didn’t happen, but the memory of his hands on you, his voice strained with lust, had never left your mind.

And now, at this year’s Halloween party, the tension between you was back—stronger than ever.

You adjusted the delicate lace sleeves of your gown, the dark fabric clinging to your curves in a way that felt both seductive and spectral. 

The plunging neckline and sheer accents added a haunting allure, and you couldn’t help but feel a bit dangerous tonight. 

A part of you wanted to see if Nanami would react the same way as last time, if the restraint that held him together would snap again.

As you stepped fully into the grand ballroom, you felt the weight of gazes tracing over you, lingering with curious admiration. 

But one gaze felt different—intense, familiar, like a charged current that sparked every nerve ending to life. 

You didn’t need to look to know it was him. 

Even without meeting his eyes, you could feel Nanami’s attention on you, piercing through the other looks, as if he alone saw through the elaborate dress, the poised demeanour, right to the anticipation simmering beneath.

Adjusting the delicate lace sleeves of your gown, you let your fingers trail along the fabric, subtly drawing attention to the plunging neckline and the way the dark fabric moulded to your curves. 

The gown was intricate yet daring, the sheer lace accents and shadowy hue creating an otherworldly allure that left you feeling more alive than you had in weeks. 

You couldn’t help the shiver of satisfaction as you caught the faintest glimpse of Nanami’s gaze darkening from across the room. 

The way his jaw clenched, the subtle tightening of his grip around the glass in his hand—it was the only confirmation you needed.

You moved with graceful ease, mingling through the crowd, chatting with a few coworkers who complimented your costume or shared a laugh over the elaborate decorations. 

But even as you kept the conversation light and easy, your senses were hyper-focused on him, tracking his every move through the room, waiting to see if he would approach. 

You could’ve sworn that you saw a few of your female coworkers throw subtle glances in Nanami’s direction—though whether out of respect for his commanding presence or curiosity about the mysterious aura he carried, you weren’t sure.

Eventually, you found yourself near his group, standing with a small cluster of colleagues by the dimly lit bar where he was seated. 

The moment stretched taut as you casually joined their conversation, exchanging pleasantries and soft laughter with the others. 

Your body hummed with awareness, every fibre of you attuned to his presence. Yet neither of you acknowledged the other. 

The deliberate silence was its own kind of foreplay, unspoken and electric, drawing out the tension until it felt almost unbearable.

Every now and then, as you sipped your drink or listened to a story from a coworker, you’d feel his gaze drift in your direction, lingering just a second too long. 

You swore you could feel his eyes trailing over the slope of your neck, the bare skin exposed by the daring cut of your gown, down to the curve of your waist.

And each time, your pulse quickened, your heartbeat echoing loud enough that you were sure someone nearby might hear.

The memory of that night in the dark, pressed against his car, his hands possessive on your body, his breath hot and ragged as he murmured your name—it was all there, simmering beneath the surface.

And as you laughed at a joke someone told, you sensed him shifting closer, the warmth of his presence wrapping around you like a magnetic pull. 

You dared a sideways glance, catching a glimpse of the way his eyes roamed over you, his expression unreadable but filled with an intensity that sent a shiver down your spine.

Without a word, Nanami’s hand brushed against yours—a feather-light touch, barely noticeable to anyone else, but enough to send sparks up your arm. 

Your breath hitched, and for a moment, you forgot the others around you, lost in the silent promise that lingered in his gaze.

He stood beside you now, stoic in his ghostly nobleman’s attire, the sharp lines of his suit tailored perfectly to his broad frame. 

His pale makeup gave him a haunting, refined edge, and despite the eerie theme of the evening, Nanami still exuded his usual calm intensity. 

You hadn’t spoken much since you arrived, but his presence was enough to stir the familiar tension. You could feel his gaze on you occasionally, lingering, just as it had last year.

It was almost as if you were playing a game—seeing who would break first.

By the time you needed some air and a break from the meaningless small talk, your heart was already pounding with anticipation. 

You excused yourself from the mingling crowd, stepping toward the grand staircase that led to the quieter, upper levels of the mansion. 

The dim lighting cast long shadows over the bannisters, and the flickering candles added an almost supernatural glow to the space.

As you ascended the steps, you heard the familiar, steady sound of footsteps behind you. 

You didn’t need to turn to know it was him.

Nanami’s presence filled the stairwell as he caught up, his larger frame moving with quiet determination. 

He didn’t say anything at first, but you could feel the tension building with each passing second.

"You left without saying anything," he finally spoke, his deep voice cutting through the stillness. 

It wasn’t accusatory, but there was something heavier beneath the words, something that made your pulse quicken.

You stopped on the landing, leaning against the banister with a teasing smile. "Didn’t think you’d notice."

As his steady footsteps echoed closer, your pulse quickened, and you couldn’t resist a sly smile. 

You tilted your head, watching the flicker of something guarded—yet unmistakably intrigued—in his gaze. 

Nanami stopped a few steps below, just close enough that you could see the subtle shifts in his expression, the guarded way he held himself in check. 

His presence filled the narrow stairwell, quiet but commanding, and though he didn’t say anything right away, you felt his gaze take in every detail—the curve of your lips, the way the dark lace of your dress clung to your body.

His mouth quirked as his eyes snapped back up to yours, almost imperceptibly. "I notice plenty."

The words were simple, but the way his gaze swept over you made them feel like a confession. 

He took another step forward, and the dim lighting cast shadows that accentuated his strong jawline, his broad shoulders filling the space with an effortless elegance. 

His suit jacket cut perfectly to fit him, every inch of his appearance meticulously sharp, and for a moment, you almost lost your train of thought watching him approach.

He took another step, and then another, each movement careful, deliberate, like he was savouring every second of closing the space between you.

His eyes never left yours, and you could see the way he drank in every detail—how you stood just above him, the way your gown framed your silhouette against the stairwell’s low light. 

It was almost like he wanted to memorize the sight of you, his stare unwavering, intent.

"You’re making it pretty damn hard not to notice, y/n." He said, his tone low, soft but with an edge that sent a thrill down your spine. 

There was something dangerous in the way he looked at you now, the restraint in his gaze barely holding.

Your lips curved in a teasing smile as he drew closer, the heat in his gaze kindling your own excitement. 

"Funny, I didn’t think you were paying attention."

Nanami’s lips parted, just the slightest bit, and his eyes narrowed, his expression still calm but undeniably intrigued. 

"Is that what you want to believe?" He tilted his head, his gaze sweeping over your form one more time before returning to your eyes.

Every step he took up those marble steps sent a wave of tension curling through you, the anticipation building to an unbearable peak. 

And then he was only a step away, his gaze still locked with yours, his figure looming with a quiet authority that made the stairwell feel impossibly small.

A soft chuckle slipped past your lips, and you couldn’t help but lean in just a bit, closing the small space between you. 

"You know," you said, your tone laced with challenge, "I almost thought you were avoiding me tonight."

Nanami’s gaze held yours as he finally reached you on the landing, and the corners of his mouth turned up in the slightest of smirks. 

"Avoiding you would be the sensible thing to do," he murmured, the faintest trace of dry humour slipping into his voice. 

"But you’re not very good at doing the sensible thing, are you?"

He let out a soft sigh, but his eyes betrayed him, lingering on the curve of your neck, the lace edging that skimmed over your collarbone before returning to your eyes. 

"With you," he replied, the restraint in his voice palpable, "it’s difficult."

The confession, quiet yet so unmistakably Nanami, made your heart beat faster. 

You couldn’t help but lean closer, the anticipation thrumming between you both like a live wire. 

"I don’t mind making things difficult," you whispered, your voice just for him.

His fingers brushed along your waist, steady yet unmistakably possessive, as he looked at you with that same intense gaze he wore in the field—sharp, unyielding, and thoroughly focused. 

"I know you don’t." 

His words were soft, almost indulgent, but his hand tightened ever so slightly, as if warning himself not to give in.

You let your fingers lightly graze the lapel of his jacket, watching as his focus flickered to the touch, his own calm facade beginning to show cracks.

For a moment, the air felt thick, every shared glance and whispered word drawing you further into his orbit. 

The faint lights of the stairwell cast a warm glow, leaving the world outside forgotten, as if you two were the only ones here.

Nanami's hand slid from your waist to the small of your back, his fingers firm and confident as he pulled you flush against him. 

His gaze held yours with a powerful intensity, and the way he looked at you now was entirely unguarded—no walls, no restraint. 

The flickering tension in his eyes had morphed into something resolute, an unspoken promise of what was about to unfold.

Without a word, his hand found the back of your neck, his fingers threading through your hair with a possessive strength that made your breath hitch. He leaned down, his mouth inches from yours, and you could feel the heat radiating from him, the air thick with the silent demand. 

His lips brushed your ear, his voice low and commanding.

"You’ve wanted this, haven’t you?" His words weren’t a question but a statement, one that sent a thrill through you as his grip tightened ever so slightly.

Before you could answer, his mouth met yours in a kiss that was anything but gentle. His lips moved with a hunger you hadn’t seen before, a raw, undeniable desire that left you breathless. 

His other hand slid up your waist, his touch heavy and possessive, fingers digging into your hip as he drew you closer. 

Your breaths became shallow, and you kissed him back desperately, going up on your tippy toes just to get a mere few centimetres closer.

When he broke the kiss, his gaze was darker, the restraint that usually tempered him nowhere to be seen. 

His thumb traced the line of your jaw, his grip firm as he tilted your head to look up at him, his own eyes narrowed in focus.

His voice was a hushed growl, each word laced with an intensity that made your pulse race. 

"God, you are the most beautiful living thing I have ever laid my eyes on," he murmured, his thumb brushing over your cheek, rough and deliberate. 

There was a fierce possession in his gaze, something raw and electric that left you feeling completely at his mercy.

Without another word, his hand slipped beneath the fabric at your waist, fingers splaying across your hip as he lifted you effortlessly against the wall. 

Your legs instinctively wrapped around him, and he pressed against you, his touch steady yet undeniably commanding, his body anchoring yours in place. 

His lips found your neck again, marking a trail along your skin as his grip tightened, each kiss firm–posessive.

Your fingers tangled in his hair, pulling him closer, urging him on.

His hand slid higher along your thigh, fingers gripping firmly, as if he were staking his claim on every inch of you. 

The last shred of restraint slipped from him as his hand found its way under your dress, and he hooked his fingers around the fabric, shifting it aside gently only to insert his fingers in you with such dominance. 

As soon as you felt his fingers stretch you out, you let out a loud gasp into the echoing hallway.

His other hand cupped the back of your neck, drawing your mouth to his in another searing kiss, one that left you breathless and desperate for more.

You could feel the controlled power in every movement he made, every flex of his fingers, his touch radiating an intensity that made you feel alive, like you were the center of his world in that moment.

“Do you have any idea what you do to me?” He muttered, his voice a quiet, fervent rasp as his fingers attempted to memorize the feel of your warmth, his restraint slipping more with every word, every touch. 

With a low growl, he withdrew his fingers, leaving you feeling momentarily empty until he undid his belt, his movements steady yet purposeful, his gaze dark with intent. 

The sound of the buckle hitting the floor sent a thrill down your spine, and as he freed himself, the anticipation pooled hot and heavy in your core, building until it was almost unbearable.

His hand slipped up to the back of your neck, threading through your hair before giving a firm tug, tilting your head up so you had to look him in the eyes.

"You want this?" He muttered, his voice a rough, intense whisper that sent a shiver through you.

"Yes," you breathed, your voice barely a whisper, laced with all the want and need that had been building up between you two for so long.

And then, with a slow, deep thrust, he entered you, filling you completely. 

The sensation was electric, sparking along every nerve as he began to move, each thrust measured but intense, the pressure building with a relentless rhythm that had you clinging to him, gasping his name.

The feeling of him inside you was overwhelming, each stroke reaching deeper, grounding you even as it felt like you were unravelling. 

Your body become hypersensitive, alive to every rough brush of his fingers, every scrape of fabric against your hot skin. 

The sensation built up in waves, crashing and receding, leaving you on edge, breathless, yet craving even more. 

Each time he pulled at your hair, a sharp spark ignited deep in your core, a flare of pleasure that spread outward, filling you up until it was all you could feel. You arched into him, mouth parting as a moan escaped you, your body yielding to every movement, every rough, deliberate stroke.

His name slipped from your lips like a prayer, your hands tangling in his hair, clinging to him as if he were the only thing keeping you steady. 

Each sound you made seemed to spur him on—his movements gaining intensity, each thrust deliberate, meant to leave you aching in the best way.

He tightened his hold on your hair, tilting your head back to expose the curve of your neck, and his mouth found the sensitive skin there, adding another layer of sensation that left you trembling beneath him. 

The roughness, the unrestrained way he claimed you, made every nerve feel alive, sparking with pleasure until it was almost too much.

"Look at you," he rasped, his voice dark, almost reverent, as his gaze raked over you. "So beautiful…"

Every word, every thrust, pulled you closer to the edge, and as he continued, the pleasure reached a fever pitch, winding tighter until there was nothing but him, the feeling of his body against yours, the raw intensity of his movements. 

And as he drove into you one last time, the release hit, crashing over you like a wave, leaving you breathless, clinging to him as the pleasure pulsed through you in endless, dizzying waves…

—

The next morning, you sat at your desk, barely focused on your work. 

Memories of the night before were still fresh, each one laced with the lingering intensity of every look, every touch, every whispered word. 

You couldn’t shake it—not that you wanted to.

Lost in thought, you glanced across the room at your coworker, Shoko, sitting a few desks over. Gathering yourself, you leaned in her direction, trying to sound casual as you asked, “Hey, Shoko. What do you think about Nanami?”

Shoko looked up, brows furrowed in confusion. “Nanami Kento?” she repeated, a curious edge in her voice. “The company’s old owner?”

You blinked, the words not fully registering at first. “Yeah, I mean… the guy from last night,” you said, a little thrown. “Wait—old owner? How old is he?”

Shoko’s confusion only deepened. 

She tilted her head, clearly wondering if you were joking. 

“What do you mean?” she said slowly, almost cautiously. “Nanami… he’s been dead for, like, twenty years.”

Your stomach dropped, a chill washing over you. 

“Dead?” You managed, your voice barely a whisper.

“Yeah,” Erin continued, oblivious to the shock freezing you in place. 

“Apparently, he was murdered. People say his spirit haunts the office building.” She paused, her voice dipping into a conspiratorial whisper. 

“And that old mansion where they host the Halloween party every year? He used to live there.”

Your breath caught as the room around you seemed to spin, last night’s encounters replaying in your mind with an entirely new—and chilling—clarity.

You tried to keep your expression steady, but your mind was racing. 

Shoko had already turned back to her work, unaware of the spiral she’d just set off inside your head. 

You took a steadying breath, trying to make sense of what she’d just said.

Did I just… fuck a ghost?

The absurdity of it clashed with the vivid, undeniable reality of what you’d felt last night—the warmth of his hands, the low rasp of his voice, the possessive way he’d held you. 

Everything about Nanami had felt so real, so solid. 

You could still feel the ghost of his fingers on your skin, the way your heart had raced when he whispered against your ear.

Your pulse quickened again, and you stole a glance around the room as if everyone might somehow know, but no one was watching you. 

The memories replayed in your mind, each one taking on a new edge as you recalled his almost otherworldly intensity, the quiet way he’d moved, how he seemed to always appear exactly when you wanted him to… or perhaps, when he wanted to be seen.

You swallowed, trying to shake the thoughts out of your head, but Erin’s words echoed persistently. ‘Murdered twenty years ago. His spirit haunts the office building…’

And then, a detail you’d brushed off last night resurfaced. 

He’d told you that ‘you are the most beautiful living thing he had ever laid his eyes on,’...that phrase had seemed flirtatious then, but now, it felt loaded with an eerie truth.

ty for hosting @fizee ur the best sorry I was so delayed LMAO

[iichfilwypj]

she's the one | percy jackson

ღ percy jackson x daughter of hypnos! reader ღ warnings: panic attack! i wanted this to be different but i got one while writing it, so so sorry! i will post the others ideas i had though. ღ wc: 608 pt 1 - pt 2 - pt 3 - pt 5

“Can we please go inside? I’m starting to feel like part of the door.” Percy murmured, leaning against the doorframe of his house. His friend paced anxiously around the empty hallway and he couldn't help but let out a heavy sigh, feeling a mix of concern and impatience for her. “We’ve been out here for ten minutes. The sooner we go inside, the sooner you’ll stop feeling-”

“'I'm dying, please” she exclaimed, a note of panic creeping into her voice. Percy watched her friend come to a sudden stop, clutching her chest tightly like she wanted to stop her heart from racing. “Please, I just need a second-”

“Dreamy?” his voice was almost a whisper. Thinking about her having a panic attack overwhelmed him. No, he couldn’t let her go through that. He found himself looking at her a bit longer than usual –easy work– to make sure he was wrong.

“I just… need a second,” she repeated, her breath faster than usual. Percy could feel the tension in the air.

He stepped closer and took her wrists tightly, trying to get her to stop pressing her chest so hard. “Stop doing that, we don't want a broken rib. Everything’s gonna be okay, I promise you”

“I don’t know why I’m so worried,” luckily, her breathing slowed down under his touch and she let out a frustrated laugh “she must be just like you.”

It was evident that sleep was taking over her, no matter how much she tried to fight it –after all, it wouldn’t make a good impression on Sally to find her son’s friend asleep at her door.

It was so hard not to, though. Percy radiated a warmth that melted her defenses. The urge to sleep hit her hard whenever she was near him. And she felt so bad about it; what kind of person was always tired around their friend? Beth's words echoed in her ears, loud and clear: ‘The more comfortable we feel with someone, the sleepier we get.’ She hadn't understood it the first time. Nor had she really tried to.

But right there, everything clicked into place. She felt secure. She felt at peace. She felt safe. With her head resting on Percy’s chest and his hands holding her, she felt at home.

He hugged her properly, and she didn’t have the strength to return the embrace; but a soft smile spread across her face as she nestled against his jacket. She let herself be vulnerable, surrendering to the solace he offered.

“Should I take that as a compliment or not? I‘m kinda worried here.” maybe it was a bit selfish, but he couldn't help it; he needed to know what she truly thought of him. The girl’s body felt heavier in his arms, and he was almost fully supporting her full weight.

A bad thing? she thought, how could that be a bad thing? In a world fulled with chaos, he was her safe haven, the one who brought her calm.

"I wish everyone would be like you." she murmured, and with those words, she fell into a deep sleep, her body relaxing completely against him. Percy was left speechless holding her tightly, not able to process what had just happened. 

The front door finally opened, revealing Sally with Estelle asleep in her arms. Her face lit up at the sight in front of her. When her eyes met his son’s, he showed no signs of embarrassment at being caught in such a position. Instead, he grinned widely, mouthing a silent ‘It's her,’ in her direction. ‘She's the one’.

well hello! as i said, this didn't go as planned BUT i think we can see more of her feelings now! we're getting closer to something! let me know if you like it!!!!!!!!! also i PROMISE i will try not to make her so anxious next time, it's just that i have anxiety and i can't help but wirite from my perspective; but i will work on that!

[iamyourdailydoseofbi]

MONEY, MONEY, MONEY, MUST BE FUNNY IN A RICH MAN'S WORLD. ( HOTD X READER )

AUTHOR NOTE! Thanks for all the love. <3 pairing: Aegon Targaryen x Stagehand! Reader prompt : Aegon falls in love with the stagehand of a jazz club. word count: 1, 000+ words

Aegon had a silver spoon up his ass from birth. He got the best cars, the best drugs, the best clothing, the best food. He didn't understand that not everyone had trust funds or billions in their bank account. He never knew struggle, nor would be thanks to his family name. He was a Targaryen, a god amongst the 'common folk'. But, in the small jazz club on the edge of Flea Bottom, he was just another man.

The bartender's didn't care about him, forcing him to pay full price for drinks. The dancers, more than once, backhanded slapped him for trying to catch a feel. All because of you, the stagehand, and brains behind the club. You preferred the shadows, keeping things smooth behind the scenes, saving you from embarrassment should you fail in public. You keep your co-worker's safe, and they did the same for you.

It was honorable. He could not fault you for ordering them to stand up for themselves. Even in the more sinful way of life, they still deserved basic respect. It also didn't help that you looked stunning when cursing him out. The way your eyes hardened. The way you would rip him apart with words. The color insults.

'The cumshot his Mother should have swallowed..'

'The inbred brat..'

'The depressing little wet rat..'

'The guy named Egg'

There was something about you. He didn't know what exactly. It could been the way you cussed him out. Or it could have been the way your eyes light up when you controlled the jazz club. But, there was a part of you that made him want to kick his feet up and twirl his hair like a giddy school girl.

Letting out a tipsy giggle as you snatch the glass of whiskey out of his hand, he leans against the bar table, a dopey grin on his face. He was not even close to being drunk, he’d barely even taken a sip of his whiskey. But, the look on your face was enough to make him feel drunk. You were so pretty. Your eyebrows furrowed, nose softly scrunched up, teeth gritted together, cheeks a flushed pink from anger.  Resting his chin on the palm of his hand, you were so pretty like this, all red faced and eyes full of hatred. He’d twirl his hair if it was long enough. Leaning a little closer on the bar table, he was practically standing on his tippy toes, eager to be close to you. 

“You come into my club, drunk, and think you can demand more to drink? There is no way that I am going to allow you to put my club at risk.” You snap back, shoving a water bottle into his hand. 

“You’re really pretty. Did you know that?” He giggles, “You’d even be prettier if you were to wear something designer, like some Chanel or some Vivienne Westwood. You should let me buy you some, sometime.”

“You're drunk.”  You scoff, shaking your head. 

“Pff! I am not drunk, well, drunk enough to not recognize that you're pretty when you're cursing me out. You’re, like, really pretty when you do it. But, I do think you’d be prettier if you did in something vintage.” He rambles on, the dopey grin on his face growing. 

“You’re drunk.” You state bluntly, rolling your eyes. 

"Again, with assuming that I am drunk."

Sitting back in his seat, he watches you pour out his whiskey into the sink, filling the cup with water. Unable to resist, he rolls his eyes hard a the sight of your routine. This happened almost every time, like clock work. He'd make a ass of himself, you'd assume he was drunk, pour out his drink and serve him water. It was oddly comforting. You cared, or at least it felt like you had cared for him. Even though a tiny part of him knew that you only cared for your club and the lawsuit that could happen. Still, he choose to believe that you cared for him.

"Let me..Let me take you out, just one date? We don't even need to kiss or hold hands." He attempts to negotiate, "I'll take you to the movies we can watch a nice film and just talk."

"I do not think that this is in your vocabulary." You scoff, placing the glass in front of him.

"And you know my vocabulary, now?" He scoffs back, mimicking your face playfully.

"I know people like you, your not that special or hard to read." You argues, "You pretend to be perfect just to get me to let you in my bed."

"One movie, that's it. No funny business."

"I do not like movies." You shake your head, making him scowl.

"Then we can go to the park and talk, there's a farmer's market." He tries again, "Get something to eat."

Watching you shake your head with a bitter chuckle, he cracks a smile, fingers drumming against the bar top. You may have been mocking him. Or maybe he was just high off the smell of cigarettes and cheap cologne that was thick in the club. But, just for a moment it all felt real. Like you cared, like you would consider it and accept.

"You're not giving up, are you?" You ask, lifting your gaze up to him.

"I will, if you ask me too."

"And..And if I want you to take me on a million dollar shopping spree?" You ask, the curiosity in your voice clear.

"I'd take you on a ten million one." He states without hesitation.

Watching you chew on your bottom lip, he waits, not daring to say another thing. He'd fear that if he say anything else it would made you rethink everything. That you'd call for security. Drumming his fingers on the bar top, you roll your eyes hard, making his heart sink. Cowering in his seat, he loose his confidence, his shoulders shagging. Swallowing the lump in his throat, he tries to shrug it off, scoffing. He didn't care? Why would he? It wasn't that big of a deal.

"I get off in an hour, stay and wait or don't." You mumble walking away, "I don't care."

---

[cosmerelists]

Cosmere Fake-Dating Pairs That Could "Plausibly" Happen

As requested by @room-temperature-orange-juice :)

Sanderson doesn't seem to go for fake dating all that much. But here are some scenarios that could TOTALLY happen if he did want to incorporate some fake-dating comedy into his books...

1. MeLaan & Marasi

The Scenario: Well, they obviously need to go undercover to solve a case, perhaps to a ball or a party or a wedding where it makes the most sense to pretend to be a couple

MeLaan (currently in a woman's body): All right. Let's do this! Marasi: U-Uh, MeLaan? Are you sure that's the...best body for this operation? MeLaan: Shit, you're right. Hang on! MeLaan: [Returns as a much more voluptuous woman] MeLaan: Now everyone will know that you can pull. Marasi (deeply red): T-THAT'S NOT WHAT I MEANT

2. Kaladin & Szeth [Rhythm of War spoilers but NO WAT preview spoilers]

The Scenario: Well, we know that Kaladin and Szeth will be going to Shinovar on a mission. Let's say Szeth needs to explain why he's brought a stone-walker into his homeland. The obvious explanation is that they're dating!

Shinovar authority figure: D-Dating?! Why would you date a stone-walker?! Szeth (expressionless): I like tall men. Kaladin (equally expressionless): He likes it when I hit my head on things. Szeth (still expressionless): Though I love him deeply, I do enjoy a good instance of head trauma. Shinovar authority figure (muttering): Is double "Truthless" a thing?

3. Charlie & one of those princesses

The Scenario: Rather than driving off all of the eligible princesses by being as boring & gross as possible, Charlie finds one who is willing to play along.

Charlie: T-The truth is, I already have a woman I love. The Princess: Really? Charlie: Yeah, but my dad doesn't approve of her... The Princess: I know how you feel. My father also doesn't approve of the woman I love... Charlie: ... The Princess: ... Charlie: ... The Princess: ... Charlie: Five-year engagement? The Princess: At least!

4. Lyn & Renarin

The Scenario: Fed up with her parents being all judgmental because she dumped Kaladin Stormblessed, Lyn decides that she HAS to bring an awesome date to her family dinner--and who better than a Brightlord, a Radiant, AND the king's son?

Lyn: Don't forget to bring up that you joined the 4v1 duel before Kaladin. Lyn: And how you took down a Thunderclast! Lyn: Storms, if you just smile occasionally, I bet that'll make them forget about Kaladin... Lyn: ... Lyn: Honestly, I think you might just be a better catch than Kaladin. Renarin: I'm gay, though. Lyn: Heh, well I didn't say you're a better catch for me...

5. Kaladin & Elhokar

The Scenario: Imagine that, during the infiltration of Kholinar, that part of their disguises involve Elhokar (disguised as a lighteyed woman) being the wife of Kaladin (disguised as an ugly old man).

Elhokar: Mmmm...I don't feel that I would go for a man with eyebrows like that. Shallan: Brightlady, please! Surely you can pretend that beneath his rough exterior, he has a good heart. Kaladin: ...pretend? Elhokar: No, no. I definitely would have insisted that he at least groom better. Can you make his eyebrows at least a bit neater? To sell the illusion? Or, do we have time to stop for nose-hair trimmers? Shallan: What if I just make his cheekbones a bit sharper? Elhokar: Mmmm...okay, yes. I could see myself marrying him. Kaladin: CAN WE PLEASE GET GOING

6. Wayne and Ranette

The Scenario: Wayne begs Ranette to fake-marry him.

Ranette: [looking at Wayne with a mixture of horror and pity] You said you weren't gonna do this anymore, Wayne. Wayne: No, no! Don't you get the wrong idea here! I need you to marry me and then divorce me horribly so you get half of my money in court! Wayne: Please understand--I've tried everything to get rid of this money. I'm desperate here! Wayne: Please! Ranette: ... Ranette: I get to divorce you horribly? Wayne: You better eviscerate me in court! Ranette: ... Ranette: Might be right therapeutic, actually. Wayne: You're such a good friend!

Moash & Kelsier

The Scenario: Moash realizes he's going to be reunited with his former Bridge 4 friends and makes plans accordingly.

Moash: Yup. This is my old Bridge 4 uniform, but now it's dyed black, because I'm new & evil now. Moash: And this is my new boyfriend Kelsier, who's just like you, Kaladin, only he survives MORE and actually FOLLOWS THROUGH on killing the king. Kelsier: Lord Ruler. Moash: Whatever. Moash: So as you can see, I don't even miss you guys AT ALL. Moash: ... Moash: What do you think? Will this make them jealous? Kelsier: ...I think we need to practice your speech a bit more.

[seeker-ophelia]

Mythal, Solas, and Lavellan

So there’s lots of discussion about Mythal and Solas, and we need to talk about it.

I too, at first, was mad that Lavellan wasn’t enough for Solas.

And then I started thinking about it.

Not only was Mythal his mother, his creator, she coaxed him into being. Into changing his spirit and his purpose.

Regret Number 1.

He let her use his knowledge and wisdom to do a terrible thing, to kill (tranquil) the titans, changing a whole race of people at a molecular magical level.

Regret Number 2.

When that choice created the worst power known to Thedas (the blight) he was responsible again. And Mythal asked him to step up and fight against it, and he did. And a lot of people died.

Regret 3.

Mythal DIED. (IMO The gods blighted her because she stood against them for wanting to use the blight but that’s not important here). And Solas blames himself.

From Solas’ perspective, he is her puppy. Her Emerald Knight. Her General. Her Protector. Her Wisdom. Her servant, her SLAVE. He is BOUND TO HER. And he caused her downfall.

And you’re all like, GEAS! GEAS!

But wait.

From HIS perspective.

Rook says something somewhere along the lines of like, by abstainsing from being the good guy (oh wait maybe it was Varric in the fade…)

By choosing to be the villain instead of the hero is he absolving himself of the guilt (regret) that comes from having to have made those choices.

From Solas’ perspective, he is her slave.

LOOK AT HIS BODY LANGUAGE.

He is a worm in the dirt in front of her. He is a scolded child, a puppy with his tail between his legs.

But in the eyes of Mythal, he was always her friend. The one person who had always stood by her. She did not literally entrap him, or bind him. It was all in Solas’ own head.

He refused to take accountability for his actions, only able to survive through the crushing weight of his own guilt by blaming it on servitude to Mythal.

That’s why Rook escaped the prison. Because she faced her own choices, choices with terrible consequences, and accepted them. Took responsibility for them, and promised to do better.

Remember, after the Temple of Mythal…

Solas…

You gave yourself into the service of an ancient elvhen god!

What does that mean exactly?

You are Mythal’s creature now, everything you do whether you know it or not will be for her. *** You have given up a part of yourself.

***THIS WAS NEVER TRUE. IT WAS NOT TRUE FOR FLEMYTHAL & MORRIGAN, NOR WAS IT TRUE FOR ABELAS, NOR WAS IT TRUE FOR SOLAS. HE JUST WANTED TO BELIVE THAT IT WAS.

…I suppose it is better you have the power than Corypheus. Which leads to the next logical question… What will you do with the power of the Well once Corypheus is dead?

The war proved that we can’t go back to the way things were. I’ll try to help this world move forward. **Lavellan is talking about the mage/templar conflict, but Solas is putting her in his own shoes. Solas reached for power he could not control and fucked the whole world up.

You would risk everything you have with the hope that the future is better? What if it isn’t? What if you wake up to find that the future you shaped is worse than what was? **

**This is literally him asking her what she would do in his shoes. He woke up and the world was in chaos OF HIS MAKING. To prevent an evil HE CAUSED from spreading, he orchestrated the downfall of the people he loved and swore to protect.

I’ll take a breath, see where things went wrong, and then try again.

Just like that?

*He is in shock that she can be so cavalier about the guilt that has rocked him for (4?) millennia.

If we don’t keep trying, we’ll never get it right.

*And this is the only thing that calms him down.

You’re right. Thank You.

For what?

You have not been what I expected, Inquisitor, you have… impressed me.

You have offered hope that is one keeps trying, even if the consequences are grave… that someday, things will be better.

Then, of course, he takes this to mean that he needs to try to put The Evanuris in a different prison and take down the veil which isn’t at all what we meant sweetie but that’s okay get up and try again.

This is a classic case of a person in power not understanding the terrible, horrible consequences of unfettered power imbalances. Because Solas was always Friend to Mythal (Im not going into Freudian sex shit with you weirdos right now).

Solas was Mythals FRIEND.

Mythal was Solas’ EVERYTHING.

co·de·pend·en·cy

/ˌkōdəˈpend(ə)nsē/

noun

excessive emotional or psychological reliance on a partner,

His Mother, General, Creator, Protector, Queen, Goddess.

And he loved her so fiercely with every fiber of his new, physical being.

And he hated it.

And when Lavellan fell for him, and he for her, he was afraid.

Because he would never force a spirit against her purpose, and in his eyes the only way to love is the sick and twisted way he loved Mythal.

But again, from Mythal’s perspective, it wasn’t twisted. Solas was just Solas. And once again the powerful care not for the thoughts and opinions of those beneath them.

And that sin is on Mythal.

And that’s why she comes out and talks to Solas. Both aspects of her. To release him from the bonds that never existed. Be free, friend. You always were, but if you need me to say it I will because I love you.

“I pulled you from the fade and sent you into war. I used your wisdom as a weapon… and it broke you.”

Cole: Is there a way to save more spirits, Solas?

Solas: Not until the Veil is healed. The rifts draw spirits through, and the shock makes demons of them.

Cole: Pushing through makes you be yourself. You can hold onto the you. Being pulled through means you don't have enough you. You become what batters you, bruises your being.

Be free.

“The things that I have done…”

“Are not for you to bear alone, my friend. The many wrongs we did, we did together.”

And he COWERS before her. Shaking and shuddering. FNALLY being absolved of the guilt he’s carried since his inception.

“I release you from my service.”

And he SOBBS. At the RELIEF.

And Lavellan kneels before him (wrong, IMO because they should be equals but its fine)

And he can go back to his original purpose.

Not Pride.

Not Knowledge.

Not even Wisdom.

But Protection.   

“My life force now sustains the veil. With every breath I take, I will protect the innocent from my past failures.”

The Shepherds Wolf. Protecting his flock from those who would do them harm.

And Lavellan promises it won’t be terrible, as long as they’re together.

And maybe Solas can try this different kind of love. A love built on respect, and trust, instead of fear, and obedience.

And he can be his purpose, Protection, and also be a man. And love his vhenan.

Because he is free.

[half-oz-eddie]

I didn’t know I wanted you (Until I couldn’t have you)

Part 3/5

For the next 3 weeks, it had become nearly impossible for Buck and Tommy to have much free time to see each other.

And see each other, in Buck’s mind, is having one on one time with Tommy, without Eddie. Sure “hanging out with the boys” was fun and all, but there was a lighter element in the air when Buck was alone with Tommy. He couldn’t quite describe it, but sometimes, he preferred it, craved it, even. He could be sitting right next to Tommy during a beer and movie night with Eddie and still feel so far away from him.

The most interesting surprise for Buck was Tommy texting him during one of their movie nights.

They shared a glance, smiling at one another.

That’s really weird. I can’t say that!

Buck tucked his lips in, trying to contain himself. Tommy was sitting close by and he didn’t want him to see a big, stupid smile on his face.

When he briefly glanced up at Tommy, he was already looking his way. Buck shot him a half-smirk and a nod, and Tommy nodded back.

His heart was racing again.

Tommy’s really cool.

The next day, Buck and Tommy met for dinner and beers. They joked, they laughed, they had a great time.

“How’ve you been doing? I know you told me plenty about how Gerrard’s been treating you. You okay?”

“As okay as I’ll ever be. I miss Bobby. The energy of the 118 is…different now. I just hate it. I love my job. But I-I hate this feeling.”

Tommy nodded in understanding. “Sometimes change can be good, but sometimes change can ruin your day-to-day life. Especially when it’s a person single-handedly trying to make your life a living hell.”

“Exactly. That’s all he’s been doing for weeks.”

Tommy looked at Buck with soft, sympathetic eyes. His gaze felt like a comforting hug, and Buck couldn’t look away. He couldn’t resist the urge to just fall in.

“Evan…I know it’s not easy.” Tommy smiled. “But you’re doing great. You’re one of the strongest people I know.”

Buck broke eye contact, sheepishly looking away. “I-I just feel a little defeated sometimes.”

“I’m sure Bobby will get his job back sooner or later. It’s just the natural order of things. The 118 belongs together, right?”

Buck nodded in agreement. “Right!”

“Ready to get outta here and head to the theater?”

“Uh—yeah. Let’s go.”

After seeing a double feature of two amazing films Buck had never even heard of, Tommy rode with him in an Uber back to his place and Buck offered him a cup of coffee.

“Hey, so, Wednesday, you’re coming with us for drinks, right?”

Tommy sadly sighed. “Sorry, I can’t. I have a date.”

“A-a date?” Buck forced a smile. Why did this bother him so much? “Who’s the lucky person?”

“Just…someone I met during my run.” Tommy answered dismissively. “But maybe we can do something next weekend?”

Buck nodded. “Y—ah—yeah—yeah. Next weekend sounds great.”

“Great!” Tommy looked down at his phone. “My Uber should be here in 5, I’m gonna head down. Text you when I get home.”

“Okay uh…see you later.”

Buck held his breath until the door shut behind Tommy and he let out an exasperated sigh, shoulders drooping with disappointment.

He wasn’t sure what was bothering him, until he remembered what Tommy said at dinner.

Sometimes change can be good, but sometimes change can ruin your day-to-day life. Especially when it’s a person single-handedly trying to make your life a living hell.

Not that whoever Tommy was dating would intend to make his life hell in some way, but just the thought of spending less time with Tommy made him feel a loneliness he hadn’t felt in a long time.

Buck felt strangely about the way their conversation ended. He only had himself to blame for being so dismissive. He couldn’t fight the nagging thought that he had to fix it somehow.

Buck didn’t want the conversation to end. It was late, and surely they were both exhausted, but every second that passed, he felt like Tommy was slowly slipping away from him.

He hated this stupid thought. Tommy didn’t belong to him. Tommy was his friend. He was Eddie’s friend. He was everyone at the 118’s friend.

He couldn’t shake the feeling that they shared a special friendship. One unlike the friendship he shared with everyone else. Buck was the only one Tommy wanted to take on weekly hiking trips. Buck was the one Tommy texted late at night to just talk and distract him from what stressed him out. In a way, Buck felt like Tommy was his.

And he was going to lose him.

[dakota1435]

Moonlight Blood -- Vampire!Sylus X Reader ✩₊˚.☪︎ ⁺₊✧

word count: 3.5k

tw: alcohol mention, (very) minor death, minor harassment, possesive sylus, ohh he want u so bad

Chapters: 1, 2, 3

Chapter 4

Before you fully open your eyes, you feel something like soft velvet. The feeling begins to kick in your consciousness and you slowly open your eyes. It’s dark, aside from a small, warm light emitting in a corner. As you become more awake, your most recent memories come rushing in. With haste you sit yourself up, feeling around your neck. There’s no puncture wounds, much to your surprise. But, you knew better than to chalk it up to a scary dream. Your hand rests just above your chest, trying to calm yourself. You ran, he bit, and now you’re in a room unfamiliar to you.

“...How do you feel?” That deep, rich voice comes from a dark corner in the room. You whip your head with instinct, to find Sylus standing himself against a wall.  A creature of the night…

You swallow thickly, painfully aware of the ache in your throat. “Fine,” you spoke softly. The memory of the pain resurfaced in your mind. 

“You were asleep for a full day. It seems I was a little greedy, but I have never tasted finer blood than yours.” Maybe it was a compliment coming from him, but you still couldn’t understand how your blood was special. He stares at you, almost emotionless. You found yourself at a loss for words.

“I see…” The silence after your words hung heavy in the air. The room, massive in size, suddenly felt suffocating. 

“Do I scare you now? Do you want to run away?” He asked suddenly. The nonchalant in his voice was close to being unnerving. Your eyes widened a bit, the question bouncing in your mind. You knew you would never forget that kind of pain. But honestly, you knew Sylus wouldn’t let you go no matter what you said. Part of you was grateful he wasn’t cruel– that he didn’t lock you up, or starve you. He gave you privacy for the most part. The most confusing part was when he tried to comfort you before the bite? It made your head spin thinking about it. 

“No.” You knew it would be impossible to explain further. Much to your luck, Sylus didn’t prod. He removes himself from the wall, slowly walking over to the bed. He extends his hand to you, offering. 

“Come. You must eat, and I have a proposition for you.” It was more like a command, and curiosity tugged in your mind at the proposition he mentioned. You nod silently, taking his hand. It made you realize the drastic difference in size, the small human you were compared to him. A vampire, but not a monster yet. Sylus helps you stand steady on your feet before dropping your hand. As you both walk calmly towards the grand dining room, not another word is spoken. You couldn’t tell if you were grateful for the silence or not. It made your mind replay last night's events on a constant loop. It didn’t feel real, but something about it reminded you it was all too real. 

Your head spun, mentally and physically, as you approached the same massive dining table you’ve sat at before. Food was already prepared and presented, as it always is when you enter the room. It was quite rare for you to see another servant aside from the twins, but it was something you didn’t question often. The food was always fresh. A plate of towering fruit catches your eye. You and Sylus sit across from each other as you begin to modestly consume the sweet fruit. Sylus, as usual, doesn’t eat. He stares, his eyes burning where he looks at you. It lingers. After a few bites, you decide to speak. 

“So…what is the proposition you have for me?” You asked, trying not to sound eager. Certainly, it can’t be anything bad. 

“Oh? You already sound interested,” Sylus pointed out. He eyes the piece of fruit you bring to your lips. “As you know, I run a multitude of businesses. There’s nothing I don’t own. But, naturally, I can’t control it all. There is somebody selling counterfeit items, claiming it under my name.” His tone turns icy and sharp. “It is held at an auction. I have an important meeting with an executive the same night of the auction, and I need you to be bait, simply put.” Sylus pauses in his speech, letting the words sink into you. 

“Bait?” You question, feeling a little unsure. Sylus scoffs.

“All you have to do is act like you’re purchasing items. The rat will expose himself to you. Unless, maybe, you don’t feel cut up to it,” he said. Reverse psychology does work for a reason, after all. You straighten your posture, considering Sylus’ offer. This would be a chance for you to be somewhere other than this mansion, which sounds refreshing. Your taste of fresh air last night definitely had you craving more. 

“Why me, though? What about Luke or Kieran?” You wondered out loud. 

“Those two are on a separate mission. Besides, I assume you know how to act as good bait,” he smirks a bit, causing you to be a bit speechless. 

“...What happens when you find the traitor?” It was a question that racked your mind, but you probably knew the answer already.

“I get rid of them. People should know better than to mess with me. I don’t take these kinds of things lightly.” He looks at his hands as he says this, as if imagining the blood staining his hands. You swallow thickly, knowing exactly what he meant.

“I’ll…I’ll do it.” Your resolve was set in stone. You hadn’t expected Sylus to ask this of you, it almost felt out of character for him. An emotion flashes in his eyes, but it was hard to tell what it could mean. Sylus reveals that the event is tomorrow night, and that he would send ‘items necessary’ to your room.

For the rest of the time, you don’t see Sylus again. He was even absent during dinner. But this was nothing new to you. He stayed true to his word though, as a few new boxes arrive randomly in your bedroom. You hurry and open the boxes, finding a beautiful, sleek wine colored dress, with matching heels. A few accessories here and there and a discreet earpiece for communication. It nearly felt…exciting to have a change in pace. And to be a spy at that? Your mind races with every and any possibility that could occur. As you prepare yourself, you can’t help but think it looks like you’re going to a fancy dinner party. The dress was sexy, truthfully. The dark red color looked great against your skin type, your curves being shown off. A pair of diamond earrings and necklace also came with your dress. God knows how much this was, but you didn’t think hard about it. You haven’t worn any form of makeup or really dressed up since you’ve arrived. After some glamor, it was astonishing how beautiful you looked in such fine attire. You found yourself tranced in your reflection before being startled by Sylus’ unannounced presence behind you. You can tell immediately from his stare he takes in all of you. 

“You look captivating, kitten,” he complimented, the corner of his lips teasing a smile. You can’t help but feel a bit flush under his sharp-set stare. He’s wearing dress clothes you’ve seen before: black shirt with black dress coat, a red accent almost blending in. “Are you ready?” He asked, pulling you out of your daze. 

“Yes!” You say, a little too quickly. Sylus takes another look over you, before guiding you towards the outside. There, a black luxurious car waits for you both. Sylus opens the door for you, before going on the other side and sits himself next to you. Without saying a word, the car begins to drive off to the unknown location of the auction. The windows are blacked out, making you unable to see outside. Feeling a bit awkward, you fidget with the heavy ring on your finger. 

“Nervous?” Sylus noticed. You stop fidgeting, not wanting to seem weak. 

“No.” Your response was short, causing Sylus to snicker with amusement. After a handful of minutes, the car comes to a slow stop. Sylus doesn’t say another word as he gets out, soon pulling you out of the car with him. You enter a massive building, that of a skyscraper. As you both enter the hallway, he stops at the entrance of the auction. It wasn’t anything like you experienced when you were sold; it was much fancier, more refined. If anything, it seemed more like a private, social gathering of the richest people. A man approaches Sylus, not giving you a single glance.

“We’ve been expecting you, sir. If you’ll just follow me…” The man said respectfully. Sylus looks at you for a long second before effortlessly pulling out a thick, black card. 

“Have fun,” he smirks at you. It’s his credit card, and there’s a small part of you that feels a rush of energy with the money presented to you. Unlimited, you knew. Sylus walks away with the man, following him down a hallway. Now alone, your nerves start to grow. You look back at the grand doors you entered through, the thought of escaping screaming in your mind. But, you didn’t know where you were. You didn’t want to find out what wrath Sylus would cause. The little family you had left must’ve thought you were long gone. Looking back at the auction entrance, you try to steady your mind. What if they knew you were a spy for him? Would they hurt you? If Sylus is in a meeting, would he know? Well, at least the earpiece works. Taking a deep breath, you control yourself. Be good bait. His words echo in your head. It’s oddly comforting. 

You saunter over, blending in with the others there. They don’t give you a second look, which you were grateful for. Items were held in a glass case, boxed over with a singular light. A particular item catches your eye and you figure you should start buying before wasting any time. 

“Are you interested, Miss?” A young man approaches you. With his mannerisms and approach, he must take care of the selling here. A fake warming smile graces your lips. 

“I am, actually. How much?” Your voice doesn’t waver. Seems like you can act after all.

“It’s going for 3 million right now.” 

“Then I’ll put down 5 million.” Your actions were confident, but in your head you had no idea what you were doing. Every part of you just waited to hear the words of the supposed enemy.

“Wonderful. We’ll have it prepared for you by the end of tonight.” The young man bowed slightly before attending to another person. Here you thought this was the guy. You sigh to yourself, scolding at your naivety. Of course this wasn’t easy, Sylus would have probably had the person by now. Continuing forward, you look at more items presented to you. You buy another thing, noticing a different servant nearby. But, once again, he isn’t the suspect you needed. 

A little over half an hour passes, and there’s no luck. What if you don’t find the suspect by the end of the night? You were worried about disappointing Sylus, or more importantly, angering him. But there were a ton of items left to review, and an unlimited spending amount. There was no giving up yet! With determination, you start to examine more items. An unfamiliar voice catches your attention. 

“Excuse me, would you like a drink?” You turn around to find another man around your age, dressed similar to the servants. He was carrying a tray of tall champagne glasses, each sparkling in their own way. 

“Thank you,” you said before reaching out for the glass. You didn’t really want a drink, but you had to go with the flow of things. The servant man walks away, and you don’t give him a second thought. It is only moments later, he reappears again. 

“Miss? I couldn’t help but notice you’ve been alone. I haven’t seen you here before, are you new?” The man asks. He wears a smile, but there’s something about it that seems cheap. You rehearsed for this kind of question. 

“Oh, yes. I am from another country. My friend said I would enjoy this, and so far it has been a delight,” you smile warmly. You direct your eye contact back to the glowing case, trying to seem more interested in the item. 

“If I may be straight-forward, you’re quite beautiful. Can I convince you to have a drink with me?” His tone was playful, hopeful even. Be good bait. The same phrase keeps you in reality. You were a little astonished by this man’s honesty, but maybe after a drink he’ll talk more. Just have to play the part…

You look at him, seeming interested. “That sounds nice. I’m almost out of champagne as you can see.” You spot the nearby bar, it gives a very low key look to it. The man seems pleased with your response, and guides you away from the floor. As you both sit in a corner booth, you find the man to be a little too close. You try to ignore this observation. He waves to somebody, orders two of the same drinks, and shoos the person off as he turns to you. Internally, you did not like the situation this was creating. But you were hoping he wasn’t a heavyweight. 

“So,” you begin the conversation, “I understood you to be a worker, are you not?” You question, trying to seem interested in this man. He chuckles.

“Yes, and no. I’m not like the servants here. I help run things here. Attending to the guests every so often just helps.” You can tell in his tone he’s egotistical for sure. “Let me tell you though, I see a lot of people in these things, but I have never seen anyone as beautiful as you.” He says, attempting to be seductive. It took you a lot of energy not to physically shudder from his comment. He was obviously trying way too hard. Before you can respond, two glasses are set down on the table. They both look like glasses of red wine. 

“Is this your first time in a place like this?” He asked. You noticed he liked to speak. A lot. 

“No, although first time by myself.” You said. He raises his glass to give a small toast. You do the same, mimicking his behavior. You both gently clink glasses before taking a sip. The wine was stronger than you remember in general, the liquid leaving a warm trail down your throat. He eyeballed you like you were nothing but meat. Which was a little ironic, considering you were Sylus’ dinner. You smile tightly.

“If you help run things here, can you help me find something?” You batted your eyelashes. If this doesn’t work, then what? You take another sip. It burns, again. 

“I know everything about this place. What do you want?” 

Now would be the time to shoot your shot. “My friend asked if I could find her something. I believe she mentioned it is an item from a company ran by a Sylus?” You try to ask with a smooth voice. Your heart began to beat a bit faster, nervously awaiting his answer. You take another sip. The man across from you stares, his expression a bit unreadable. Then, he smirks. 

“Onychinus? Sure. It’s not cheap though, baby.” You feel yourself physically recoiling at the pet name. But you go back to what he said, Onychinus. Sylus never told you the name of his businesses or companies. In fact, you weren’t even sure what he produced and sold. You try and stifle the tightness in your smile. 

“Can you show me who the seller is? I have a few questions.” 

“You’re looking at him, hun.” He grins wickedly as he scoots closer, his arm suddenly around your waist. You try not to reject his touch, wanting to complete your mission as best as you could. You hope Sylus could hear everything through the secretive ear piece you were wearing. “Before we get down to business, how about I give you a select private tour? I’d be willing to show you everything I’ve got.” The man is a little too close for comfort now, but you were in the final stages. You give a fake chuckle, and smile at him again. 

            “That sounds lovely, thank you.” Final stages, you reminded yourself. It’s almost over. The man gets up from the booth and extends his hand to you. You gently take it as he begins to walk away. You both leave the main area of the room, only to find yourself turning down a couple of hallways. Then, he stops. He stands in front of a bleak, plain door with a heavy padlock around the handle. He jams some buttons before a click is heard, and the door opens. It’s dark inside and there isn’t a second to react before you are shoved inside the room. He shuts the door swiftly, trapping you both in the darkness. 

            You already knew this guy was trouble, but this situation just got worse. Your fight or flight instinct kicks in, as you are practically blinded in the dark of the room. You hear the man chuckle darkly, and every fiber of your being told you to get out of there. This was bad, and you had barely any options. You suddenly feel a hand firmly on your arm and you instantly try and shake it off. You touch the ear piece immediately, praying that Sylus already heard everything. 

             “Get off of me!” You screamed as loud as you could. “Get your filthy fucking hands off of me!” The man doesn’t say anything before putting another hand on you, attempting to cease your struggling. You swing your leg up and manage to hit some part of him. Hopefully, his groin. You hear him groan with pain. Darkness still surrounds you, and you tried creating as much distance as you could.

              “You bitch!” The man spat. Then, in the darkness, you hear him begin to choke. He removes himself off of you completely, and you find yourself pressed against the corner of the room. You hear your attacker struggling against something, before hearing a heavy thud hit the ground. 

            The silence in the air is heavy, thick. You swallow, trying to control your breathing. Finding out your next move. Something, someone, was in the room with you. Please God, let it be Sylus. You hear a scoff, very close to you. Your heart hammers in your chest, as if it was going to escape through your ribs.

             “Hmm… seems like you can put up a fight, kitten.” You exhale a shaky breath, finding yourself relieved it was Sylus. Tears pricked at your eyes. You couldn’t see him, but you knew he was standing right in front of you. His hand caresses your arm with a sense of comfort. “Did he hurt you? Did he touch you?” He asked, his deep, velvet voice covering you like a blanket. A part of you was grateful it was pitch black in the room, but you knew he could probably see you anyways. 

            “No…no,” you said, hoping he wasn’t too angry. “I’m sorry, I didn’t think he would—”

           “Stop. Don’t apologize for scum like him. We can leave now,” he said, placing another hand on the other arm. In one swift motion, he picks you up gently, bridal-style. It makes you flustered a bit, but you were too tired to think about it. Your mind races with anxiety of what could’ve happened if Sylus didn’t show up. It makes your stomach churn.

The trip back home felt like a blur to you and not a single word was uttered. The alcohol still lingered in your system a bit, as well as the exhaustion from your life-saving instincts. You don’t give that room a second glance as he carries you out. Much to your surprise, there wasn’t any blood on Sylus. Whatever he did, that disgrace of a man deserved it. Sylus didn’t dare let you go until you arrived back at the mansion. He sets you down gently, as if you were glass. But there was something hard and cold placed on Sylus’ face.

“Are you mad?” You asked quietly, a little confused. 

“He was already in trouble for selling under my name. But to lay his hand on you? I let him go easy. I should’ve came back for him.” His jaw clenches, and for once you see Sylus express anger. You shudder at the thought of Sylus torturing that man, but he had it coming. He glances at you and you notice his brows unfurrowing a bit. “You found him for me, and for that I am grateful. I apologize for not coming sooner.” For the first time, you hear Sylus apologize. Not only to you, but completely in general. You were a bit taken aback, unaware of what to say.  “You are mine,” he says again, it almost sounds like a growl. “I won’t let anyone lay a finger on you. I won’t hesitate.” His eyes burned with a fiery passion. He was serious, and you knew he would kill anyone that intended to harm you.

[lvmoure]

Jump Then Fall CS55 Part 2

Pairings: Carlos Sainz x childhoodbff!reader

Summary: In which he realized that it has always been you.

Warnings: none, pure fluff

Part 1 Part 3

Carlos Sainz was just 7 when he met you for the first time, his new next-door neighbor. He remembered the way you’d stood there, small and uncertain, a hand clutching the hem of your dress as your parents introduced you. He’d given you a big, toothy grin, thinking you looked a little lost. From that day on, the two of you were inseparable, spending every moment you could together. Whether it was riding bikes, playing soccer in the park, or inventing silly games only the two of you understood, Carlos knew you’d always be by his side.

One golden afternoon, the two of you were at the playground, taking turns pushing each other on the swings. Carlos could see the joy on your face as you laughed, your head tilted back, eyes shining in the sunlight. Something about that moment made him pause, a weird, fluttery feeling stirring in his chest. He didn’t understand it, but he liked it.

“Bet I can swing higher than you!” he shouted, hopping onto the swing next to yours.

You laughed, challenging him back. “No way, Carlos! I’m going to win!”

The two of you raced to see who could go higher, each laughing louder and louder as you tried to outdo each other. Carlos didn’t care if he won or lost; he was just happy to see you smile like that.

But then, in the midst of all the fun, he noticed you staring at him with this faraway look. He waved a hand in front of your face, grinning. “Hey, are you even listening to me?”

Your cheeks turned pink as you stammered something, and he couldn’t help but laugh, wondering why you seemed so flustered. You weren’t usually like this; you were usually the one to tease him! But he liked this side of you, too, even if he didn’t understand why it made him feel… strange.

“Come on,” he said, reaching out his hand, “Let’s go get ice cream. Loser has to buy!” He grinned, watching you roll your eyes and accept his challenge. As you both ran off to the ice cream shop, Carlos felt that same warm feeling again, lingering, making him realize how much he loved moments like this. He didn’t know it yet, but these simple memories would be some of his most cherished, ones he’d look back on years from now, as the start of something he couldn’t quite name.

By the time high school rolled around, Carlos had grown accustomed to that fluttery feeling in his chest whenever he was around you. He told himself it was just because you were his best friend; after all, you’d been there with him through everything—good and bad. But there was something else, a longing he didn’t fully understand, a wish he kept tucked away in the back of his mind. He was afraid that if he acknowledged it, it would change everything between you.

He didn’t want to lose you. So he stayed quiet, kept his feelings hidden, and tried to be content with just being your friend. It wasn’t always easy, especially when he caught himself watching you from across the classroom or noticing the way you laughed at his jokes. Sometimes, he wondered if you might feel the same, but he was too scared to ask.

One afternoon, the two of you were walking home from school together, chatting about nothing in particular. Carlos noticed the way you tucked a loose strand of hair behind your ear, and his heart did that strange flutter again.

“Do you ever think about the future?” he asked suddenly, not even sure why he was asking.

You looked at him, surprised. “Sometimes. Why?”

Carlos shrugged, kicking a pebble on the sidewalk. “I don’t know… I guess I wonder if things will change. Like, if we’ll still be friends.”

“Of course we will!” you said, sounding so sure it made his heart ache. “We’ve been friends forever, right?”

He forced a smile, trying to shake off the feelings bubbling up inside him. “Yeah, you’re right. We’re like… inseparable.”

For the rest of the walk, he stayed quiet, lost in his thoughts. He knew he wanted to be more than just friends, but he couldn’t risk losing you. So he buried his feelings, hoping that somehow, being close to you would be enough.

Carlos didn’t think it would hurt this much, but the day he introduced his girlfriend to you, he felt an odd pang in his chest. He’d met Isabela a few months ago, and she was everything he thought he wanted—confident, funny, beautiful. But the moment he saw the look on your face as he introduced her, something inside him twisted painfully.

“This is Isabella,” he said, trying to ignore the way his voice sounded too bright, too forced. “She’s… well, she’s amazing, isn’t she?”

You smiled, but he could see it didn’t reach your eyes. “Yeah, she seems great,” you replied, but something about your tone didn’t match the words. For a split second, he wondered if you felt the same way he did. But he brushed the thought away; it was probably just wishful thinking.

The weeks that followed were strange. He saw less of you, but every time he was with Isabella, he found himself thinking about you—wondering what you were doing, if you missed him, or if you even cared that things felt different. There were nights he stayed up, wondering if he’d made a mistake, if he was hurting you. But he was too scared to ask.

One day, as the two of you were walking home from school, Carlos finally worked up the courage to say something.

“Hey… are you okay?” he asked, keeping his tone casual.

You smiled, but there was a sadness in your eyes he couldn’t ignore. “Of course, I’m just tired.”

He didn’t believe you, but he didn’t push. Maybe it was better this way, he told himself. Maybe it was better if he never knew how you really felt.

The breakup with Isabela hit him harder than he’d expected. One evening, he showed up at your door, feeling lost and alone. He didn’t even need to explain; the moment you saw his face, you pulled him into a hug, holding him tight.

“It’s okay,” you whispered, your voice gentle and soothing. “I’m here for you, Carlos. I’ll always be here.”

Carlos clung to you, feeling a mix of relief and regret. He’d been so focused on someone who didn’t truly understand him, while the one person who knew him better than anyone else had been right in front of him all along.

As you comforted him, he felt something shift between you. He wasn’t sure what it was, but he knew he was grateful for it. In that moment, he realized how lucky he was to have you by his side, even if he wasn’t ready to admit the feelings bubbling up in his heart.

After the breakup, Carlos found himself looking at you differently. He started noticing the way you laughed at his jokes, the way you knew exactly how to cheer him up, and the way you always seemed to understand him in a way no one else could. A thought began to creep into his mind, one he couldn’t shake—maybe, all this time, you’d been the one he was looking for.

But he was still afraid. Afraid of ruining what the two of you had, afraid of losing the friendship that meant everything to him. So he decided to keep his feelings hidden, admiring you from afar and hoping that one day, he’d have the courage to tell you.

Because deep down, he knew that love, the kind he felt for you, was worth waiting for.

[dpspcehntr]

RAFAYEL: An Introduction

Zayne | Xavier | Sylus

Pairing: Rafayel x Reader

Word Count: 0.7K

Warnings: Switch!Rafayel, Switch!Reader, dirty talk, SO MUCH TEASING, MC is OOC, Oral (f receiving), fingering

Welcome to part 3 of this series! This series is me introducing you all to how I write for them. Requests are open and feel free to leave a comment cause I love them and read them. It also keeps me motivated!

A/N: Rafayel and the MC have a very established dynamic and they are having fun! I want to clarify cause sometimes I go overboard 😭. I love when switches do switch things 😭. MC might feel OOC but I based the dialogue on how I would like to banter with Raf so do with that what you will. Rafayel just gives such switch energy and I feel like we need to tap in. Could also be that I’m a switch and I love being a tease lool.

On the dance floor you already feel him getting hard as you grind on him. You knew what you were doing when you wore your this dress. A low cut number that accentuates your curves, barely covering your ass, thick thighs and long legs on display. You drape your arms behind you around his neck dancing in time with the music. Lost in the beat you forget he is loosing it behind you. His grip on your hips tightens to snap you back to the present.

“Don’t push it. You know what I’m capable of.”

You turn around ready to push it just a little further. His blush had spread to his entire face and neck. His eyes can’t meet yours, the tent in his pants becoming more obvious. You let out a chuckle at his ruined state.

“Yea fucking right. Your seconds from coming over a lil grinding. You’re all talk and no action.”

He huffs but before he can say more you’re moving closer to him. You gently press your body into him and cup his hard on. He scoffs as he looks to the side.

“Don’t push it. You know exactly what I’m capable of.”

You give him another squeeze, he’s seconds away from falling apart and you laugh. The music, dark lighting, and crowd are saving him but the thrill that anyone can see fuels you further. With your other hand you cup his face and lean his head down for a kiss. Desperate for more of your touch he yields and deepens the kiss. While distracted with his beautiful lips he grips your wrist that’s palming him and whispers on your lips.

“Did you forget I can smell your arousal or are you still intending to play games?”

You can no longer ignore the wet spot growing in your underwear, your desire for him bubbling just beneath your skin. Still, the game was fun and you couldn’t say no to the blush all over his face. Without another word he drags you off the dance floor toward the door. Outside you push him against the wall and lean up into his ear.

“Yea let’s keep playing this game, since you seem to keep enjoying yourself.”

He groans as you kiss his neck and exposed chest, letting his guard down.

“N-not here. Let’s me get the car.”

He slips out your grasp and straightens his collar and fluffs out his hair.

“Wait here.”

Not long after you see the valet pull up with one of his silly sports cars that he definitely bought to prove he has money. He strolls over to you and grabs your hand, opens the passenger door for you, and you slip in. It’s a short ride back to this studio but it feels like forever. You lean over, place a hand on this thigh, and leave open mouth kisses over his neck. The moment the door closes to the studio you’re instantly on each other. He pulls you into his arms, kissing your neck and chest feverishly as your arch into his touch. He pushes you back into the wall and continues to ravish you like a starved man. Teasing him is fun and so is the reward. He slides a hand down to your soaked underwear and pushes them to the side. Two fingers slide into you with ease and you hold him tighter for support. He slowly pumps them in and out of you as you grind into them. He slips them back out and kneels in front of you. He lightly flicks your clit and your hands slide into his hair. One hand grips your hip tightly preventing you from grinding on his face. He pushes his fingers back into you swiftly. He pumps his fingers in time with his licks. Your legs threaten to give out underneath you as your climax approaches. He continues to fuck his fingers into you at a brutal pace and suck hard on your throbbing clit.

“O-overachiever. I’m gonna cum on your face.”

He hums in response sending a wave through you. You’re right on the edge panting and moaning desperate for him to take you over. You start to clench around his fingers and soon the coil in your stomach snaps. You pull his hair hard as you gush over his fingers and lips. He hums in response as he laps up everything prolonging your release. You can barely hold yourself up when he comes up to kiss you. You taste yourself on his mouth as he moans. He pulls away from you with a string, his face flush, eyes low, and panting. You could feel yourself getting wet all over again for him as he leaves you back to his bedroom. The night has only just begun.

[ladykailitha]

Around the World Part 6

Hello! And welcome to another chapter of this very underrated fic. Thank you to everyone who has given it love in the way of comments, reblogs/tags, and likes.

It's London calling! And we meet a Murray Bauman in the wild. Eddie and Steve get a little introspective and Steve does something rash.

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5

~

Their trip through the haunting and beautiful Ireland was amazing. So many tales and history. This is why Steve wanted to do more than just America like Eddie had originally wanted, because America just didn’t have the history Europe and other places did. Not unless you wanted to disturb actual First Nation people and that was something he wanted to avoid at all cost, thank you.

They were on the ferry from Northern Ireland to Scotland and Steve was looking out over his shoulder at the water as he leaned against the guardrail. He tilted his head back and closed his eyes, allowing the wind to blow through his hair.

Eddie slid his arm around him and Steve laid his head on his shoulder.

Today Eddie had his beard and faux-dreadlocks in a light blue button up shirt and cream colored wide-legged pants. His chunky sunglasses covered the his face.

“You know,” Eddie murmured, “until we reached this leg of our journey and you started to disguise me, I didn’t realize how much I missed just being Eddie Munson, regular guy. I can really see the appeal of you and friends’ way of doing it.”

“Yeah,” Steve said softly. “Of course it means that we can’t go all out and buy everything we want, stay in fancy hotels, show up at restaurants without a reservation and get in. But I can go into my local grocery store and buy two tubs of mint ice cream because I felt like it.” He lifted his head to look Eddie in the eye. “Like some Karen would judge me, but it’s not going to go up on TMZ that I’m letting myself go.”

God, Eddie had had that happen more times than he cared to count. Like once Chrissy was on her period and he went to go get her chocolate, Ben and Jerry’s, and pads. Before he even got to his car it was all over the internet that he was letting himself go, just because it was 2am and his best friend needed something to help her feel better.

“You think you’ll ever come out?” he asked, pulling Steve in closer.

It was a familiar and well-worn topic of theirs; whether or not Steve would ever come out as bisexual at least.

He ducked his head and looked away. He didn’t know. He didn’t like hiding parts of himself for those he loved. He would like to tell people this is the love of my life.

“Would you leave me if I said no?” he mumbled, not daring to look up.

Eddie placed his finger under Steve’s chin and lifted his head gently. “Of course not, Stevie. There are literal actors who have been married for years and no one knows. It’s just between them. We could do that too. Just a quiet ceremony, Robin and Chrissy as the witnesses, and a justice of the peace.”

Steve let out a weak sort of watery laugh and shook his head. “I want all our friends there, famous and otherwise. I want a full tilt party with music playing into the early hours of the morning. I want fancy tuxes and flowers galore. I know I might not get that, the absolute coward that I am. But if I marry you, it be to scream from the rooftops that I love you.”

Eddie bumped their shoulders together. “Softy.” Steve blushed. “Besides there is nothing in the world that says we can’t have it both ways. Have a quiet little ‘just us’ and then go full tilt when you come out. You don’t even have to tell anyone. Just a little comfort that I’m not going anywhere.”

Steve pressed a gentle kiss to Eddie’s cheek. “I’ll think about it.”

Eddie kissed him deeply and then tucked his head under his chin and they stayed like that until the ferry docked in Scotland.

~

God, Scotland and England were beautiful countries Eddie decided as he watched the rolling green hills from his train window. That was another thing he really liked about Europe in general, just all the different ways to travel that weren’t a car.

He looked over at Steve who had his glasses on and reading a book. He smiled at the title. His boyfriend wasn’t a fantasy fan or science fiction either, really, but put a clever mystery in his hands and you would have to pry to the book from his cold, dead fingers.

He glanced over at Chrissy and Robin who were playing Go Fish! They had asked him if he wanted to join them, but he passed. He rarely got time to just relax and watch the scenery go by when he was on tour. He was always doing something related to the band. Writing music, practicing, talking about the next venue, interview, or TV spot.

Him and his friends had fun, because of course they did. But it was nice to just let his mind wander. Currently he was sad that they were going to have to miss Wales this time. He really wanted to buy some Welsh gold jewelry. It’s super rare and absolutely gorgeous.

Maybe he would have to come back later and get something special for Steve. Just something simple like matching bands even if it wasn’t on the left hand. Or necklaces. Just something simple to prove they were it for each other.

“I made an appointment with a well-known tattoo artist in London,” Steve said nonchalant, but like he was reading Eddie’s thoughts.

Everyone stopped what they were doing and turned to Steve. Robin nearly giving herself whiplash in her speed.

“As your friend, manager, and platonic soulmate,” she said darkly, “I advise against that. You can cover it up but someone, somewhere will see it.”

Steve looked up from his book and leveled her with his best bitchy glare. “Not if it’s on my ass.”

Chrissy and Eddie’s eyebrows shot up and they shared a shocked glance. Eddie always loved tattoos, he had a couple of stick and poke style ones from when he was young and stupid and couldn’t afford to pay for an artist to do the job, but there was one place, well technically two if you included his dick, which he absolutely did, that he refused to get a tattoo on and that was his ass. Not being able to sit down properly for what would probably be weeks was not his idea of a good time.

“Not really, though, right?” Chrissy asked with a grimace.

Steve took off his glasses and rubbed the bridge of his nose. “Of course not really. Sheesh, you guys. But I hid fucking hickies from the both of you for a year and you never noticed, so I’m pretty sure I can hide one fucking tattoo.”

Robin and Chrissy shared their little ‘manager’ glance and Chrissy folded first.

“You’re right, Steve,” she said calmly. “Not once did you forget or slip up and you should be applauded for that. But is there a reason you’re deciding to get a tattoo now instead of waiting until we’re back in the States and you can use Eddie’s personal artist?”

He looked over at Robin and their little telepathy thing went off again and this time Robin folded first.

“It’s for Eddie,” she murmured. “They can’t be out as a couple and with Steve being the romantic that he is, wouldn’t want to get married without all his friends there, so this is his way of telling Eddie he isn’t going anywhere either.”

Eddie blinked for a moment. “Do you think they take walk-ins?”

“I booked it for both of us.” Steve smiled at him and took his hand. Eddie beamed back at him.

“They are so disgustingly cute,” Robin huffed, crossing her arms. “I bet Steve has this really sweet idea for a tattoo that even if people do notice it they won’t be able to tell the meaning but he and Eddie will know and be so sickeningly precious about it.”

Eddie gave him a huge kiss on the cheek. “I love my super clever boyfriend and can’t wait to see what this brilliant plan is.”

~

Steve’s brilliant plan was half of a white mask on Eddie’s inner wrist and half of guitar on Steve’s and when they held hands it formed almost heart.

The tattoo artist was really impressed with the idea and was more than happy to implement it. Steve walked out of there, completely smug as Chrissy pointed out. Deservedly so.

They were to stay in London for three days because of all the haunted places in London alone, there were so many worth visiting. They were going to start at Jack the Ripper tour and move onto the tour of London.

The tour they learned with deep dismay had accidentally been scheduled at 2pm and not 2am like Eddie had thought it said. It was so boring and their tour guide so dull, Eddie accidentally tripped of one of those concrete pillars they had in the middle of the sidewalk to prevent cars from driving up on it.

“Oof!” Eddie wheezed as he straightened up. “Why do they even put those things here?”

“Chrissy Cunningham,” a nasally voice said from behind them. “What are you doing in my neck of the woods?”

They all turned slowly to see a weaselly little bald man with thick horn-rimmed glass.

“Holy shit,” Chrissy said slowly. “Murray Bauman, as I live and breath. What the hell are you doing in London?”

He shrugged. “Eking out a living doing tours for bored tourists. When the biggest metal band in the world drops you, so does everyone else.”

Chrissy and Eddie shared a grimace. Corroded Coffin had deliberately did that to Nancy after the shit she pulled with Steve and trying to be The Fallen’s agent. But this one was a complete accident.

“Oh fuck off,” Robin said with a grin. “You love it. I can tell. You have actual notes written down, you have a map marked with all the spots the murders take place. I bet you have all the great stories.”

Murray flushed and cocked his head to the side. “I mean I didn’t want to brag. But yeah, certainly better than Molly over there.” He jutted his thumb at their tour guide. “Most of the good ones are from tour companies and then you get people like Molly who make it look legit online and trick people into taking day tours.”

“God, I was so bored,” Eddie huffed, shoving his hands into his pockets, “I felt jet lagged.”

Murray’s eyes instantly narrowed and cocked his head to the side and instantly everyone else tensed up. He took in their reactions and mimed zipping his mouth shut.

“I’ll tell you what,” he said, “if you’re still in town tomorrow, meet me here at 9pm and I’ll give you a proper tour.”

Chrissy licked her lips slowly. “Or what?”

“Huh?” He was confused for a moment before he smacked his forehead. “Oh! No, no. I’m not going to blackmail you. Holy shit. If people want to enjoy a vacation without all the publicity, good on them.” He looked Eddie up and down. “Looks good on you kid.”

Eddie was suddenly glad for the large sunglasses and beard because it hid the blush on his cheeks.

“No, I’m just saying,” Murray continued, “that if you wanted to experience a proper Jack the Ripper tour, I’m willing to do it. I don’t have a tour currently booked and beside I like her.” He pointed at Robin, who grinned back him.

The four them all shared glances at each other.

“I’m down,” Steve said with a shrug. “If you’re as good as you say you are and aren’t trying to actively ‘get back’ at Chrissy for taking your job, I know I’d be interested in seeing what Whitechapel has to offer after dark.”

“I like him too,” Murray said brightly, rubbing his hands together. “So what do the rest of you say?”

“Aye, aye, Captain!” Steve’s three menaces said together.

He just smiled fondly and shook his head.

~

Part 7

Tag List: CLOSED

1- @mira-jadeamethyst @rozzieroos @itsall-taken @redfreckledwolf @zerokrox-blog

2- @gregre369 ​@a-little-unsteddie @chaosgremlinmunson @messrs-weasley @val-from-lawrence

3- @goodolefashionedloverboi @carlyv @wonderland-girl143-blog @irregular-child @blondie1006

4- @yikes-a-bee @bookworm0690 @anne-bennett-cosplayer @awkwardgravity1 @littlewildflowerkitten

5- @genderless-spoon @y4r3luv @dragonmama76 @ellietheasexylibrarian @thedragonsaunt

6- @disrespectedgoatman @dawners @thespaceantwhowrites @tinyplanet95 @garden-of-gay

7- @iamthehybrid @croatoan-like-its-hot @papergrenade @cryptid-system @counting-dollars-counting-stars

8- @ravenfrog @w1ll0wtr33 @child-of-cthulhu @kultiras @dreamercec

9- @machete-inventory-manager @useless-nb-bisexual @stripey82 @dotdot-wierdlife @kal-ology

10- @sadisticaltarts @urkadop @chameleonhair @clockworkballerina

[storiesabouteli]

Romance (Maybe it's a place) // Elijah Hewson X fem!Reader. PART 1

prompt: Eli is a vampire who falls in love with a human. The story explores the passage of time and the challenge of maintaining a relationship between two very different beings. It’s a guide on how to date a vampire/human while seeking a place of comfort in someone—and all the complexity that this longing brings.

words: 4K

(it'll probs 2 or 3 parts, it won't be long promise!)

There was nothing to expect, no prospects for the next day. Everything felt empty, his chest heavy, despite the absence of a beating heart. He wasn’t tired of the life he led; it was simply that so many years had passed, and he felt he’d experienced it all. Then, you showed up.

“Uh, she has this endearing look when she’s around me, like when you discover something new and know it’s going to be worth every moment. It’s still like that, even though we’ve been together for a while. I think I’ve gotten used to the idea that she knows who I am and isn’t afraid of me, even though I still watch my every move, thinking it might come to the surface one day. My point is, Josh, my human is kind and deserves a beautiful life. We’re not on the same page, but I can’t let her go.”

His voice cracked, eyes filling with tears, and he welcomed the feeling—it had been a long time since he’d felt anything like this. Over time, he’d grown numb to so many things. Josh sighed, understanding the weight of what Eli was going through but knowing there was little he could do.

“Eli, you’ll know what to do. You can agonize over it and delay all you want, but not making a decision right now is already making a decision.”

Josh had offered advice—he was a bit more adaptable to modern trends, though he knew how to use a phone just fine. He had tried getting Eli on board with it, considering up until recently, he still received letters, written as outdatedly as Eli sounded when he spoke on the phone. It was like he was composing his words with an old-world elegance, carefully phrasing each sentiment. But then you came along, and suddenly, he found himself adjusting to screens and adopting habits a bit more in tune with the present day.

Eli rubbed his face with a frustrated urge to shout. He had hoped his friend would offer a practical solution, but he knew this was the truth. Many of them had been through something similar. He knew what he wanted; he’d seen both paths before. And yet, he kept overthinking it, as if that would help somehow.

...

Eli chose heavier coats when he went out with you—usually something soft, like wool, more inviting to touch. “You alright, love?” His thick accent made you glance up at him. You couldn’t answer right away; all you wanted was to stay pressed against his chest, arms wrapped around his waist. There were no steady heartbeats to listen to, but his breathing—always at the same, calming rhythm—was comforting in its own way.

“Yes, El,” you murmured, slipping your hands into your own hoodie pockets. The cold air wasn’t helping. “You’re freezing,” he said, with a hint of guilt, the words lingering like it should’ve been obvious this would happen. But you didn’t mind. You chuckled; sometimes he was quick to worry. “I’ll go grab more blankets, alright, grumpy?” You didn’t want to downplay his concern but hoped to ease the way he saw it.

You took his face in your hands, kissing his naturally flushed cheek, then pressed closer, brushing a kiss to his lips. He savored the warmth eagerly, even though he could feel the chill in your fingers and nose—areas that must’ve ached from the cold. Embarrassed, he looked away for a moment, until you returned with more blankets. Wrapping yourself in one and placing another thick layer between you and him, it wasn’t ideal, but it worked; you could hold onto him, enough to count as a hug; proper physical contact.

He took in the scent of your hair, and it was enough—these little moments that reminded him you were his human, seeing every detail about him as a feature, never a threat (which was a little worrying, if he was honest). Eli held you close between the blankets, feeling a bit better.

“You know, El,” you said, turning your face to invite him in for a soft kiss, “your body temperature is going to be really useful in the summer. It’ll be nice.” He laughed, noticing your lips were warming up again.

...

Eli was waiting for your shift to end at the bar, his usual spot reserved with that easygoing smile. You'd started a weekend night job, one that fit around your studies, and he'd made it a point to pick you up every night so you wouldn't walk home alone. There he was, leather jacket, cigarette between his fingers, his hair charmingly tousled. He leaned on the bar, a soft, inviting smile playing on his lips as he ordered a drink. "You look beautiful." He tilted his head, letting the dim light catch his gaze as he took you in. You'd put in a little extra effort tonight – waves in your hair, a cinched dress under your apron, all for the quiet thrill of seeing Eli at the end of it.

"You too," you murmured, cheeks heating up as he let out a soft chuckle. His hand met yours briefly, the contrast in temperature catching you off guard, so he held onto them a little longer than usual. You slipped off your apron, glancing around to make sure everything was in order, and turned back to him. Eli rarely smiled fully-one of those open, toothy smiles. But whenever he did, you couldn't help but imagine those sharp canines showing, a detail he'd told you only appeared at his choosing. You had never seen them before, but fairy tales made you think it would be cute. Eli wasn't the tough type.

"And you're hot," he whispered with that thick accent, words lingering just long enough to leave you wanting more. You felt his cold hands at your waist, fingers resting lightly, and wrapped one hand in his hair, pulling just enough to get that quick intake of breath, followed by the softest sound that showed he liked you being a bit bold. "I like the dress," he murmured faster, hands resting on your hips as he nudged you back against the wall at the exit, his body pressed close against yours. It was quick, a thud against the wall that didn't hurt, but he caught himself, realizing you weren't quite like him. His apologies were soft, but you just whispered, "I like that, to be honest," which made his eyebrows raise in a mix of excitement and teasing.

The hem of your dress hitched a bit as he held you close, your pulse quickening against him, and the smirk on his lips only grew. Your eyes traced the freckles across his nose, his pink lips near yours, and it left you a bit breathless. "You're dying for me to kiss you, aren't you?" And you were. He cradled your face, pressing a kiss to your cheek, trailing down to your jaw. Your hands trailed up his arms, reaching his neck, pulling him closer. He nestled into the crook of your neck, his soft hair tickling your skin. "Missed me that much, El?" you asked before his eyes lifted to meet yours. He finally pressed his lips against yours, slow and deep, and you sighed into it, feeling everything melt away.

"I did. So much." His eyes had a soft gleam to them, a smile lingering, one that felt like it was just for you. Seeing your shaky breaths, he peppered your lips with little kisses until you settled, or at least got used to the fact that he wasn't about to stop. "Do... do your teeth ever show?" It slipped out before you could stop yourself. His eyes dropped for a second, awareness hitting him, and you instantly felt bad. "Sorry, you said I could ask."

"It's fine," he reassured you, fingers still gentle. His rings brushed your skin – a subtle reminder that he was there, by your side, despite whatever thoughts he kept to himself. "I won't bite you, okay?" His voice had a deep warmth, cautious but reassuring, and you let yourself believe him. He kissed you again, the same trail as before, from your cheek to your jaw, then this time letting his lips brush along your neck. You melted, fully aware of the way he held you. The kisses were soft and warm, pulling your eyes shut, and truthfully, you didn't fear much. Eli wasn't cruel, and you'd give him the benefit of the doubt until proven otherwise. You felt a faint graze, almost a scratch – it felt good. This was good. "I won't hurt you, little one." You'd talked about it before, those early questions you had about his predatory nature, and he'd told you he could handle it. He needed things but managed them.

"Maybe I'd like it if you did," you teased, part joke, part honest. He drew back, clearly content with all of it. "We should go. We're in public, miss." You groaned, laughing in playful protest.

...

The first time, you sent him a message saying you needed company, that you weren’t doing well. That way, he’d have the choice, the option to decide not to stay if he didn’t want to. But Eli called immediately—there was no time for your mind to spin into catastrophic scenarios. He briefly asked what was going on and if you needed anything (he didn’t even remember the names of medications anymore). It was clear he’d be spending the weekend by your side.

There was something about his presence that made you feel better, and knowing he’d be there in person filled you with a renewed sense of relief.

“I can turn my back, even if I’m in the

bathroom.” He said it so casually, and he was hard to read sometimes; every now and then, he seemed almost detached. You curled your toes, wrapped in a towel and seated on the edge of the toilet. He stood in the doorway, trying to figure out the best way to help. You needed a shower—your temperature was all over the place, and it would ease things a bit. But your feet ached at the slightest touch of the floor, and your shoulders were so heavy that you felt you’d collapse if you stood for too long.

“Can you?” Your voice came out low, soft, as if admitting just how much you needed him, even though you didn’t want to. Eli looked at you, and his expression softened as he came closer, kneeling down in front of you. His hands cupped your face, brushing your hair out of your eyes. You looked so tired, and instinctively, your cheek pressed into his palm, despite the chill of his skin against you. He pulled back, but you held his hand there, keeping him close.

“You know you shouldn’t wait ‘til things get worse before calling me, don’t you?” He spoke gently. You nodded, but dealing with this on your own was second nature; it was just how things had always been. Your eyes lingered on his tank top, the small star tattoo peeking out alongside his necklace, and a few scattered freckles across his shoulder. Your warm fingers traced over them, grazing those little dots softly. He smiled, and you looked up to see his eyes crinkling at the edges, that pointed nose and unruly curls, with a few locks twisted just perfectly.

He was beautiful, maybe that was why he wasn't human. Pale, rarely a fan of sunlight, but not repelled by daylight either. He didn’t sleep in a coffin or flinch at garlic; he’d answered all your questions, even if he felt uneasy talking about it. You often avoided asking too much. He needed blood but had assured you it wasn’t as dire as the movies made it seem—he didn’t hurt anyone, didn’t kill innocents.

You wrapped your arms around him, hugging him close. The intimacy of being wrapped only in a towel didn’t faze him; he was there just to help. “It’s chronic,” you admitted, barely holding back tears. “It’ll keep happening, and I don’t want to depend on you… but I’m just, uh, so tired.” He heard the strain in your voice, the soft sniffle, and drew you closer. His hands moved gently along your back as your cheek rested against his shoulder, forehead pressed to his neck. He kissed the top of your head, feeling a deep ache he hadn’t felt in years. For a fleeting moment, he felt the exhaustion you bore—aching shoulders, tired eyes, a sudden warmth creeping into his skin.

He couldn’t take this from you, but he’d stay with you as long as you allowed. “Well, then, I’ll be here with you more often, and as often as you need,” he said, and you simply held him a little tighter, eyes meeting his. He noticed the subtle dark rings beneath them, a telltale human weariness he found beautiful, something unique to you. Morning puffiness, the way your scent changed with the seasons—these little shifts only added to your charm in his eyes.

Feeling a bit lighter, you were ready to try standing. “I won’t look, I promise, love,” he murmured, and you knew he wouldn’t. Slowly, you stepped into the shower, letting the water pour over you, hoping the fever would slip away down the drain. Through the steam, you could just make out his silhouette, back turned, his posture more relaxed with you nearby. You’d seen him tense up in public around you, but you understood.

He didn’t look, not even once. When you were done, you let him know, narrating as you dried off and dressed. When you finally said you were ready, he turned around with a soft smile, placed a gentle hand on your waist, and kissed your forehead. Then he led you out, guiding you with a steady grip.

Lying on your back, you stared up at the ceiling while he lay beside you, careful not to touch, as if he knew it might not be what you needed right now. The bed felt small with him so close. You took his hand and guided it to rest at the crook of your neck and shoulder. “The feeling of warmth happens when the fever reaches the new set point the body establishes. At that moment, blood vessels dilate to release heat, and you start sweating to cool the body down.” Your words came out so precise, almost like a textbook. Eli smiled, clearly thinking you’d looked it up somewhere for him. Still, your temperature was finally stabilizing, and his natural coolness seemed to help. “Do you still feel any pain?” he asked, his eyes growing heavy, yet relieved to see you were getting better.

“Just a little, I’m much better now. You’re like an angel,” you murmured, watching his nose wrinkle slightly. You found it curious how he felt emotions without any functional organs. His body didn’t give him trouble; he was visually healthy, able to just… live. You weren’t sure if you wanted to be like him, but something about it felt unfair. Silence settled over you both, and he turned on his side, his deep, amber eyes holding yours, drawing you in.

“Can you turn people? Just anyone?” The question tumbled out suddenly, genuine, raw. He looked away, as if bracing himself. This was bound to come up, sooner or later. “It’s like when you asked if I’d move away when you leave for college because, otherwise, I might not be here anymore,” you added, trying to ease the weight of your question. You were getting to know him better.

He nodded slowly, knowing he’d answer you honestly if you asked for it. If you wanted, he’d let you be like him. “I can,” he whispered, keeping it brief, not wanting to linger on the subject.

You hesitated, taking in the idea. He knew how much you suffered from chronic pain, how sometimes you just wanted relief, independence. And while he wouldn’t think twice about offering you this existence if you wanted it, he couldn’t shake a selfish feeling—the thought that, in giving you this choice, he’d be binding you to him and trapping you in your current form for eternity. Even so, he’d never refuse to help you if you needed him.

“So… it’s just a bite? And that’s it?” you asked, curiosity shining in your eyes without a trace of fear.

“Biting’s just for blood,” he clarified, his voice softening as he took a deep breath. “To turn someone, it takes a witness and making sure the person won't die, y’know?” He sighed, and you noticed, arching a brow.

“I thought you didn’t feel tired,” you teased, sensing his discomfort and wanting to lighten the moment.

“I don’t,” he said, brushing off the feeling with a small lie. You let it go, realizing you were also getting sleepy, even though he didn’t need sleep the way you did.

He’d once told you he’d been at this for around 300 years, adapting quickly but feeling his enthusiasm fade with time. He didn’t even remember who’d turned him, just that he’d woken one night alone, with the pain of transformation, figuring everything out by himself. That always made you think about your own fear of being alone, especially when pain flared up and made you feel trapped to someone.

“Can you… have kids?” you asked softly, eyes tracing the constellation of freckles on his nose.

“No,” he replied simply.

“I was going to say I’d have your kids if I knew they’d inherit that nose and those freckles, but I didn’t want to offend you or anything.” He chuckled, that familiar, comforting nasal laugh. Eli felt pain, but holding you like this made it melt away. He’d met thousands of people over the years, but you were the one who made him want his world to keep turning.

“Do you want kids?” he asked.

“No,” you said without hesitation. “I wouldn’t want anyone else to go through this just because of some unlucky genes.” He looked at you, an emotion in his eyes that made you wonder if he’d learned to mimic human reactions, replicating them when needed, though Eli had never done that with you.

“Would you have wanted them? If you were still… you know,” you asked.

He wrapped you both in the blanket, creating a cocoon. The light smell of cigarettes and mint gum surrounded you. His curls tickled your face, and you reached out to touch his lips with your fingers as he spoke, feeling the faint movement of his mouth. “I don’t know. I never thought about it when I was human, and now it doesn’t make much sense. Maybe I’d be happy, maybe I’d be sad if I’d had kids in a life that isn’t mine anymore. But I’ve stopped dwelling on what I can’t control.”

He said it with a calm acceptance that made you wonder just how long one had to live to reach that kind of peace. You liked living in the moment, but only when it was good. And you understood that Eli wasn’t always okay; he just knew how to deal with what life had given him.

“You don’t see a future with me, do you?” you whispered, voice thick with unshed tears. His arms tightened around you, but his silence broke something in you. Still, you reminded yourself to cherish the present because, as much as it hurt, you understood the complexities of it all.

“I’m sorry,” he murmured, his words soft and full of regret.

...

“Dear Jenkinson, this will be a brief update, yet a necessary one. I’ve bought a cellphone and shall be more present. I still prefer to avoid the daylight; perhaps it’s simply the desire to remain unseen. I enjoy a quiet life—or at least, that’s what I believed. Recently, I’ve noticed a girl at the café near my house, yes, the same place here in Dublin. She comes around midday, doing something on her little black screen, though that detail hardly matters. I simply like knowing she’s there, and that she’ll likely be there tomorrow. I don’t speak to her, and I don’t imagine I will. Is it wrong for me to want to be near her but not seen with her? I mean her no harm, yet my human bears little resemblance to me. I write to you in confidence, as I suspect you’ll advise me to approach her. In any case, it’s a curious feeling, waking with this small excitement, the uncertainty and hope that she’ll be there, sitting in her usual spot.”

You scanned the first letter; they were all unsealed, unhurried in their elegance, as if they weren’t truly hidden from you—yet he kept them private all the same. You didn’t recognize the name, “Jenkinson,” but something in the writing made you imagine an old friend of his. Strange that you hadn’t heard of any friends. He knew all about your life, perhaps because you were far more open than he was. A pang of guilt hit you for reading his words. You’d picked them up from the mailbox by accident, and now you’d leave them where you found them, pretending you hadn’t seen any. Still, a gnawing question lingered in your mind. Eli cared for you, and you’d told yourself you were fine with this arrangement, just living in the moment—but you wanted something more, didn’t you? Eli seemed so sure of what he wanted from the beginning. You’d hoped maybe he’d change, but could you truly resent him? He wrote such beautiful things about you, didn’t he?

Your pulse quickened as you ran your fingers over the heavy paper, catching another letter. “Dear Jenkinson, I had forgotten that humans suffer, not just from their own mental wanderings like us, but from very real, very physical pain. My human has a condition that keeps her days limited, wrapped in intense pain. I’ve been there for her, and you’ll understand the significance of that, won’t you? It’s been a long time since I’ve done anything like this. Anyway, she’s full of a light-heartedness you’d never picture me having. She deserves so much more, you’d like her, but I don’t intend for things to reach that point—” You felt a sting behind your eyes, frustration and a sense of discomfort flaring up. How could he be so dense, filling these white spaces with beautiful words about you while being so unthinking about the future? After all, he’d have a future, regardless of what happened. His nature was certain that there was a tomorrow.

“Dear Jenkinson, I would never hurt her, truly, nor do I feel any inclination to do so, yet there’s something in her calm, gentle scent, and the eyes that makes me wonder what it would be like to bite her. Am I a bad person for thinking this? I know what it’s like—the taste and the quiet satisfaction when it’s with someone we truly appreciate. I don’t think of it as feeding, but rather as a form of cultivation.”

It was sweet, kind of sexy, in its way, yet left you with a hollow ache. Eli had a life, a very long one, yet he’d never shared any of it with you—not his past loves, this friend, or why, of all places, he still stayed in Dublin. You wanted all of him, but a part of him wasn’t there to be yours, was it? The letters lacked dates, having only found their way back to him. Why were you committing yourself to something that felt like it had an expiration date?

[sequinsmile-x]

Hide Beside Me

Emily shares her oldest secret with Aaron. A few years later, that secret resurfaces.

Part 3/3 (Part 1, Part 2)

-x-

Hi besties <3

Thanks so much for all the love on this fic, it truly means the world. I really hope you like this last part.

Fair warning, I made myself cry when writing this - and I could count on one hand the number of times that's happened in 375 fics.

I hope you like this, and please, always, let me know what you think <3

-x-

Warnings: pregnancy, teen pregnancy, abortion, adoption, forced adoption

Words: 5.5k

Read over on Ao3, or below the cut

She invites Rebecca to come over to the house just three days after she unexpectedly showed up on the doorstep and back into Emily’s life.

Emily goes back and forth on it, wonders if seeing the evidence of the family she had, the children she’d kept, would be hard for her to take, but Aaron talks her down. Assures her if she had a problem with it she would have said something, especially since Rebecca had seen Rose and Issac and therefore knew Emily had kids. 

She finds herself watching the time, tapping the screen of her phone to illuminate it every time it goes black, seconds feeling like hours and minutes like days. The only thing that keeps her even vaguely grounded is the picture of Jack, Rose and Issac as her wallpaper. It was a picture Aaron had taken in the hospital just 6 months ago when Issac was born. Jack and Rose were sitting next to each other, the little girl’s face pinched together in concentration as she listened carefully to Jack as he told her how to hold the baby lying across both their laps, Emily’s hand in the shot as she supported her newborn's head.

Emily sighs as she hears Aaron step into the living room, his familiar footfall a comfort until he comes to a stop and leans over the back of the couch to kiss the top of her head. 

“What if she doesn’t come?”

He kisses her head again, making sure he lingers this time, his hands squeezing her shoulders in a way he hopes she finds comfort in, “She got in touch with you, Em,” he says, “She wants to know you. She’ll come.” 

She hums, swallowing thickly as she tries to push down everything she isn’t sure she wants to feel, “What if…” 

He rounds the couch and sits next to her as she drifts off, hooking his thumb under her chin to encourage her to look up at him, “What if what, sweetheart?” 

She smiles tightly, her lips pressed together to stop the shake to them as they hear a car pull up onto the driveway, her hand seeking his out to link their fingers together, “What if I’m a disappointment to her? Depending on how long she’s known about me, she might have been building the thought of me up for years.” 

He hates what this has done to her, how a decision her mother and other adults had made without including her long before he’d ever known her had torn down her confidence like this. He pushes it away, knowing she doesn’t need the anger he felt on her behalf, certainly not now when she was on the brink of getting to know the child she’d had to give away. She needed his love. His support. The reminder of all that she had now. 

And those were things he would make sure she always had in abundance. 

“That’s just not possible,” he says, leaning forward to kiss her forehead, letting her sink against him when they hear footsteps on the steps leading up to the porch, “You’re the most amazing person I’ve ever met. She’ll see that too.” He says, and she smiles, something that fades when the doorbell rings, “Want me to get the door?” 

She shakes her head and presses her forehead against his, trying to take some of his strength through osmosis one last time before she stands up.

“I can do it,” she says, wiping lint that isn’t there from the thighs of her jeans as she stands up, desperate to keep her hands busy so she doesn’t tear her cuticles up or twist her wedding rings around so much she’d risk losing them. When she makes it to the door, she blows out a breath and gives herself a moment, her hand tight around the door handle before she opens it, her smile shaky as she stands back, “Rebecca, hi. Come in.” 

Rebecca smiles at her, her expression equally as shaky, her hands tight around the handles of her purse as it hung over her shoulder, “Thank you,” she says, looking around as she steps into the house, turning to look at her when she closes the door, “You have a lovely home.” 

“Thank you,” Emily says, as she leads her towards the living room, heaving in a deep breath as they walk towards Aaron. His eyebrows raise as he looks at the two of them together, the resemblance uncanny apart from Rebecca’s blonde hair, and it takes him aback for a moment, leaves him frozen on the spot until Emily clears her throat and draws him out of it, “This is my husband, Aaron,” her breath is shaky as she carries on, “Aaron…this is Rebecca.” 

“Nice to meet you,” he says, “Would you like something to drink?” 

She smiles, his wife’s smile, “A coffee would be great.” 

“Coffee it is,” he squeezes Emily’s shoulder, “The usual, sweetheart?” 

She smiles up at him and nods, “Yes, please.” 

“I’ll be back in a few minutes.” 

He leaves the room, and Emily realises she and Rebecca are still both standing up. She points towards the couch, “Please sit down,” she says, and she sits when Rebecca does, making sure to put space between them, to not cross any boundaries the other woman may have in place. She’s sure if she touched her, if she hugged her, she’d never want to let go. 

“So,” Rebecca says, her eyes fixed on the door Aaron had walked out of, “Is Aaron my…”

It takes a second for what she’s asking, the question she can’t finish, to register and Emily shakes her head, her hands clasped tightly in her lap, “No, he’s not. We met at work,” she says, “Your…he’s called John. I’m not in touch with him, but I have his contact information if you want it.” 

Rebecca smiles, a sad tinge to it as she looks down at her hands, “Thanks. I’ll let you know if I want it.” 

The silence between them is thick. Not uncomfortable, or tense, but full of everything they both want to say even though neither of them know where to start. Emily clears her throat, feeling a sense of responsibility to go first, a weight that was heavy on her chest as she looks across at the woman whose face she’d spent the best part of her life trying to picture. 

“Do your parents know you’ve come to see me?” She asks, oddly okay with referring to other people as her parents. She was her mother. She’d brought her into the world and loved her ever since, but she wasn’t her parent. She’d never been given the chance to be. 

“They know,” Rebecca says, smiling properly, her dimples making their first appearance, “They actually encouraged me to do this,” she stops for a moment when Aaron steps into the room and passes her a cup of coffee and Emily a cup of tea. Rebecca thanks him as he sits next to Emily and places his hand on her knee, “I’ve always known I was adopted.” 

Emily furrows her brow at that, not sure if she was relieved or not by the revelation, “Oh?” 

Rebecca nods, her grip tight on the mug in her hands, “As long as I’ve been old enough to know what it means, I’ve known,” she says, “Mom and Dad struggled to have kids, which is why they adopted me. Then a few years later they had my brother naturally,” she laughs when she says it, in-jokes with her family that Emily wasn’t party to shining in her eyes, “Even if my parent’s hadn’t been upfront about it all I think I would have caught on eventually, they all have blue eyes and blonde hair,” she tucks some of her dyed hair behind her ear as she says it, “I’ve never known anyone who looks like me, until now,” she looks up at Emily and then around the room, her eyes catching on family photos hanging on the wall, “It’s weirdly unsettling,” she jokes, drawing a laugh out of both Emily and Aaron. “I’ve had a good life. And loving parents. I…on the way here I was thinking of what I’d want to know if I were you, and that’s the thing I kept thinking of.” 

Emily blows out a breath, her vision going blurry as she tries to stop the tears from falling, her eyes burning with them, “I’m glad. I’m really glad.” 

“I also think it’s important you know I’ve never been mad at you, or angry,” she says, tears filling her eyes too, “I’ve also always known you were young when you had me,” she smiles sadly, “When I turned 15 it was the first thing I thought about. And every year since it’s just felt younger than the year before. You did the best thing you could.” 

Emily grips Aaron’s hand, her grip on him so tight he feels his knuckles knock together, and she sucks in a shaky breath, tears that she immediately wipes away slipping past her lashline.

“Thats…thank you.” She wasn’t aware how much she’d needed to hear it from Rebecca herself until she did. A burden she’d carried for years suddenly lighter, a space in her chest she hadn’t known existed opening up so she could breathe a little deeper, “What made you come looking for me?” 

Rebbeca sucks in a deep breath, “That’s…a bit of a crazy story.” 

“Oh, if you don’t want to-”

“No, I want to,” she assures her, cutting over Emily’s panicked retraction of her question, “I just…” she looks between the two of them, “Don’t want to upset you.” 

Emily furrows her brows, confusion and something close to dread flooding through her, her cheeks burning with it as she leans into Aaron’s side, “You can tell me. I won’t be upset, I promise.” 

Rebecca sucks in a breath, “I always thought about it. I wanted to know more about where I came from than the small amount of information my parents were given from the place where I was born. But I also never wanted to intrude on your life,” she tucks some of her hair behind her ear again, drawing attention to her torn-up cuticles, “I was well aware I could be nothing but a reminder of the worst part of your life. And then…I saw an obituary for you in the paper.” 

Emily gasps, her eyes screwed shut as she clenches her jaw, “Oh, god. I’m…” she clears her throat and looks up at her, “That’s so complicated. I’m so sorry.” 

Rebecca shakes her head, “Please don’t apologise. As soon as I saw it, I regretted never reaching out to you. I grieved everything we could have had. I moved forward,” her smile turns sad, “I probably paid for my therapist's vacation that year with the number of sessions I had,” she looks down at her hands, and Emily is grateful for it, grateful for a moment to wipe away a tear, to shift impossibly closer to Aaron, his hold her as tight as she’d ever known it to be, “And I learnt how to be okay with it all. Then, a few weeks ago I saw a picture of you in the paper. At first, I thought it was a memorial-type thing, but then I read the article. It was about a case at Interpol and you were the spokesperson. It felt like a second chance. So I came to find you.” 

Emily nods, her chest aching with the sobs she was keeping in there, emotions she wouldn’t set free until it was just her and Aaron in the house, “I’m glad you did. I’m so glad you did. And one day…if you want, I’ll explain all of that to you,” she offers her a half smile, “Or at least, as much as I legally can.” 

Rebbeca smiles before she presses her lips together, a question she’d had for years on the tip of her tongue. 

“Did you ever think of looking for me?” She asks, and Emily feels Aaron squeeze her hand, a brief moment of comfort as he continues to be a silent bystander, understanding the support she needs without her even having to ask for it. 

“I did,” she replies, “I wrote letters at first, when I was still a teenager, but my mom kept having them intercepted. For a long time I just…pretended it all happened to someone else because it was easier,” she answers honestly, “And then, when I finally felt able to look for you it felt selfish. I didn’t want to intrude on anything.” 

It’s half the truth, the other half feeling too complicated to explain. By the time she was working for Interpol, she decided to leave Sophia, Rebecca, alone to keep her safe. Well aware that if anyone knew of her existence it could be used against her. It was a decision she stood by when Ian eventually would hunt her down, glad he had no idea of her biggest secret other than him, that whilst she’d failed everything else she’d been able to keep her daughter safe. Even if she had ended up grieving for her despite never knowing her. 

Rebecca nods, “I can understand that. You’d have always been welcome though,” she says, smiling, “Mom and Dad want to meet you, if you’d like. Eventually. And my girlfriend,” her smile gets wider, “When I told them you have kids, that I have little brothers and a sister, they all got really excited. But I want to get to know you first.” 

It sparks hope deep in her chest, but she doesn’t quite allow it to catch yet. Rebecca wanted to know her. To have this be more than just one meeting to answer some questions, “I’d like that,” she says, turning to look at Aaron for a moment before she looks back at Rebecca, “We’d like that.” 

“They aren’t here?”

“The kids?” Emily asks, and Rebecca nods in response, “No, they are with their Aunt Jess today,” she says, “But I’d love you to meet them if you want to.”

She’d have to explain first, and figure out a way of making it appropriate for Jack and Rose, Issac being too young to understand it at all. If Rebecca was going to be in her life, in their lives, Emily wanted it to be as her daughter. Not wanting more secrets and lies to cloud her life now it was as clear as it had ever been. 

Rebecca nods, “Of course I’d love to,” she smiles, “What are their names?” 

“Jack is our eldest,” Emily says, not feeling the need to explain any further than that right now. Jack’s history was his to share, and he’d taken to introducing her as his mom to new friends lately, no longer explaining that she was his stepmom. When she’d asked him about it, he said he preferred it this way. That whilst he loved his mom, and he missed her and always would, he hated being the kid whose mom had died, that it was a label that never went away, “And then we have Rose and Issac who you saw the other day.” 

“They’re adorable.” 

“Thank you,” Emily says, “We think so too. Do you have any other questions? I’ll answer anything.”

“Just one, for now,” Rebecca says, placing her cup of coffee down, “And I know it sounds juvenile, but I’ve wanted to ask you this for years,” she stands up, and steps towards her, her arms awkward at her side as they twitch, and Emily knows what she’s going to say before she says it, and she makes a point of passing her cup of tea to Aaron in preparation, “Can I have a hug?” 

Emily’s on her feet in an instant, the crack in Rebecca’s voice making her want to do nothing other an cross the gap between them, “Of course you can.” 

She pulls her into a hug, and it’s like two things are happening at once. She’s 15 again, holding her baby tight, desperately trying to remember everything about her, whispering a lifetime of love against her forehead as she counted down the seconds until she had to let go. She’s also 45, hugging her 30-year-old daughter, the once tiny baby now slightly taller than her, a grown woman who had lived a whole life without her. Everything was different - including the fact that this time when she let her go, it wouldn’t be the last time she got to hold her. 

What she doesn’t know until later, is that Aaron takes a picture of them wrapped up in each other’s embrace. Their arms tight around each other, tears on both of their faces as they try and take in as much as they both could after a lifetime of separation. 

He prints it for her and hangs it on the wall amongst the rest of their family photos, a sign of the start of a new beginning she’d convinced herself she’d never get. 

___

“Are you sure you don’t want me to come with you?” 

Emily smiles as she turns to look at her husband, Issac on his hip as they both stand in the foyer of their home. She walks over and kisses Issac’s forehead and then Aaron’s lips, “I think I need to do this part myself, honey,” she says, running her fingers through his hair, “This is a conversation I’ve needed for years.” 

He sighs, clearly holding back his disagreement, his dislike of her mother’s treatment of her not something he was shy about, “If she says anything-”

“I’ll call you and you can come over and yell at her,” she promises him, kissing him one more time, “If Rebecca…she’s going to be in our lives. I’m not going to pretend she isn’t mine to anyone,” she swallows thickly, “And that starts with talking to my mother about her.” 

They’d never discussed it. Not once. When Emily met her in Russia, still wearing a diaper and pads in her bra whilst her milk dried up, Elizabeth hadn’t said anything. She’d acted like her daughter had been at a summer school, nothing more, and they carried on as if nothing had happened. 

“I know, sweetheart,” he says, kissing her, “We’ll be here when you get back.” 

She nods, blowing out a shaky breath as she kisses Issac, pressing her forehead against his temple, “I wouldn’t be mad if you ignored bedtime tonight.”

Aaron smiles, already having planned on letting the kids stay up, no matter how much it would mess with their routine for one night, knowing Emily would need to see them, to hold them, when she got home. 

“Consider it done.” 

The drive to her mother’s house has never felt quicker. Traffic was frustratingly on her side, each light green as she wishes for the journey to drag out, wanting more time to figure out what she wants to say. 

Elizabeth is surprised to see her when she arrives, but only makes one comment about being busy, a mercy that Emily is sure doesn’t come from being able to read her body language. Her housekeeper brings them both a glass of wine as they make polite small talk, and Elizabeth eventually clears her throat. 

“So, what are you doing here, Emily?” She asks, her eyebrow raised at her, “It’s not like you to drop by unannounced.” 

Despite planning it all out in her head, any attempt to practise this conversation disappears in a second. She takes a sip of wine and then sucks in a breath, three words summing up how her life had changed so dramatically in the last couple of weeks. “She found me.” 

Elizabeth’s shoulders tighten, her grip on her wine glass briefly tighter as she takes a large sip, the gulp of it audible, cutting across the tense silence between mother and daughter, “Who did?” 

Emily presses her lips together, holding back 30 years worth of anger and swallowing it back down, knowing it would do no good to air it all now, “The baby you had taken away from me 30 years ago,” she says, staring at her mother as she looks down at the table to avoid her gaze, “She found me. Her name is Rebecca.” 

“Emily-”

“You never gave me a choice,” she says, cutting off whatever her mother was going to say, not sure she could take hearing it, “I wasn’t given a choice.”

“You made a choice when you had sex, Emily,” Elizabeth says, making Emily scoff and shake her head, “If Rose ever-”

“If God forbid Rose ever finds herself pregnant at 15, or 18 or hell even if it happens when she’s 30 and has an asshole for a partner who leaves her in the lurch, I will make sure she knows what all of her choices are,” she says, her jaw tight as she wipes away a stray tear, “And I’ll hold her hand through whatever she chooses to do,” she blows out a shaky breath and chokes on a sad laugh, “I always knew it was cruel when those people you sent me too ripped my baby away from me after a few minutes, even then I knew, but I only realised how cruel it was when I had Rose.” 

“Emily-”

“When they tried to take her from me, when they were simply trying to take her to the other side of the room to clean her off and weigh her I couldn’t let go. Aaron ended up having to promise me that he’d go over there with her and that he wouldn’t let her out of his sight. Did you know that?” 

It’s a rhetorical question, they both know it, because they’ve never talked about any of this before, “No. I didn’t.”

“When Rose was born she cried so loudly the doctor made a joke about it, and then when she laid her on my chest she stopped. We kind of just…looked at each other and she stopped crying. When she was on the other end of the room she was crying again, she only stopped when Aaron brought her back over to me and I just kept thinking…did Sophia cry when they took her away from me?” 

Elizabeth furrows her brow, “Sophia?” 

Emily sighs and swallows thickly, internally cursing herself for letting it slip, “Rebecca. Sorry. Sophia was…” she clears her throat, “That was the name I gave her.” 

“I didn’t know you did that.”

Emily smiles sadly, “Yeah, well. We’ve never spoken about it, have we?” 

“Why are you telling me all of this?” 

“Because we’re working towards being part of each other's lives more permanently,” she says, blowing out a breath, “And it will take some time to learn about each other, but we both want it. We both want to make up for lost time, and I will not lie to the world anymore. I won’t say she’s my cousin or my long-lost sister. She’s my daughter and that’s how I’ll introduce her to people.” 

Elizabeth’s eyes go wide, “Emily, what will people think?” 

She scoffs, “Other than question the fact you sent your daughter to a home that has been condemned in every way possible in the press since?” She shrugs, “I don’t care, Mom. I spent so long caring about what people would think of me. But she’s beautiful. And smart. And I’m proud of her, even if I don’t have any right to be. So I refuse to let shame take any more away from me than it already has,” she stands up and wipes tears from her cheeks, “You can carry on being a part of my family if you’d like. But I won’t hide her away to satisfy some old need of yours to maintain appearances.” 

She walks away, determined to leave, to get home to her family, but she’s stopped by her mother, “Emily.” 

She turns and sighs, “Yes, Mother?” 

“If she’s anything like you,” she says, clearing her throat, not able to look her in the eye, any softness between the two of them always hard for them both, so different to the sharp edges of their relationship that they were used to, “You have every right to be proud.” 

___

Six Months Later

The house is busting at the seams. 

She can hear all the conversation outside, the sound of it filtering through the open window in Issac’s room as she walks in, smiling when he’s stood up in his crib, his arms already up and waiting for her. 

“Mama!” 

“Hi Zaccy,” she says, walking over and lifting him into her arms. She kisses his cheek several times, chasing his precious laughter, “You know, as you get older, it’s not acceptable to take a nap in the middle of your own birthday party,” she says, settling him onto her hip, “So enjoy it whilst it lasts, sweet boy.” She couldn’t believe he was one. That her youngest baby was a toddler now, that he was close to walking and could say Mama and Dadda and a sound they think means Jack. Time had flown by too quickly for her liking, as it always did, and despite her age, and her insistence when she was pregnant with him that he’d be their last, she found herself wondering if maybe one more kid couldn’t be the end of the world. “Let’s go join the party, huh?” 

She walks downstairs with him in her arms, listening to his chatter as they go, and the doorbell rings as she makes it to the bottom of the stairs. She answers the door, her heart growing in her chest when she sees Rebecca and her girlfriend, Carrie, on the doorstep.

It still surprised her sometimes that she could do this. That her eldest could come to events like this and that she wanted to. 

Everyone knew about Rebecca now. When she told the team, the empathy and sympathy had been a little hard to take all at once. A wave of other people's emotions as they thought about what she’d been through exactly what she’d been trying to avoid. Aaron had kept her afloat. His arm around her shoulders as he answered most of their questions, as he held her tighter when Penelope tried to hug her, his expression clearly saying not now in a way she’d thankfully taken note of. They’d accepted Rebecca into their lives with open arms, making her another part of the family they’d built for themselves. 

“Hi,” Emily says, pulling Rebbeca into a hug first, and then Carrie, “I’m so glad you made it.” 

“Of course we did,” Rebbeca says, smiling when Issac reaches out and wraps his hand in her dark hair, “We wouldn’t miss Zac’s birthday, would we?” She tickles his belly and he reaches out for her, and she takes him, settling him on her hip. “Mom and Dad send their apologies,” she says, “But they also sent a massive gift for Zac.”

Emily smiles as she takes the offered gift bag, “I’ll make sure to text your mom to say thank you, they really didn’t have to get him anything.”

Rebecca chuckles, “I’ll leave you to have that conversation with her.” 

The first time she met Rebecca’s parents, Eleanor and John Mount, was as emotional as her first meeting with Rebecca. Eleanor had pulled her into a fierce hug, and held her close as if she was still the teenager who had given birth to their daughter, and John had done the same. They’d brought her a massive photo album, a book so heavy it had to be held with two hands, full of pictures of every moment of Rebecca’s life. 

She looked through it frequently, trying to commit everything she hadn’t been able to see happen to memory. Smiling as Aaron looked at it over her shoulder, never failing to comment on how much Rebecca looked like Rose when she was her age. 

“Everyone is in the back,” Emily says, ushering them in and closing the door behind them, the sight of her oldest and her youngest together something she wasn’t quite used to. 

Telling the kids about Rebecca, and who she was, was the part Emily had been scared of the most. Unsure how to tell them, how to answer questions she was sure they’d have, their curiosity that she usually loved bound to be her downfall. They’d taken in their stride. Jack was the one who understood the most being the oldest, and he’d been excited to meet Rebecca, claiming he’d always wanted a big sister. Emily wasn’t sure how much Rose understood, but she loved Rebecca too, and Emily knew there would eventually be a time when neither she nor Issac remembered life without her. 

In her worst moments, that made her jealous of her children. She wished she could only remember what it was like now - that the pain she’d gone through for decades wasn’t so visceral she could still feel it, but she knew she couldn’t undo anything. And that, if given the choice, she’s not sure she would. She didn’t believe in fate, and didn’t like to think that the universe was in charge of her life. She’d fought for what she had now. For the family she loved. And she wouldn’t want it to be any different than it was.

It was messy. Complicated. A picture made of broken pieces, glued back together with time and love and purpose. But it was hers, and because of that, it was beautiful. 

“Becca!”

They all turn to see Rose running towards them, her arms tight around Rebecca’s legs as she throws herself at her. Rebecca laughs and runs her fingers through her hair, “Hi Rosie-Posie.”

“Come play with us,” Rose demands, holding Rebecca’s spare hand, the other still securing Issac to her, and Carrie’s as she drags them towards the backyard. Emily watches them go, blowing out a slow breath as she twists her rings around her finger.

“You okay, sweetheart?” 

She turns to look at Aaron, smiling at the sight of him in their messy living room, bags of gifts and wrapping paper everywhere, “I’m okay,” she assures him, holding her hand out, her smile getting wider when he walks over and grabs it, linking his fingers through hers, “Just thinking about how lucky I am to have them all, and how lucky I am to have you.” 

He kisses her temple and they walk towards the backyard, “We’re the lucky ones.” 

She rolls her eyes at him, but her response is cut off when she hears laughter as they step out into the yard. Rebecca is sitting on one of the swings of their swing set, Issac on her lap as she gently swings them back and forth. Rose is on the swing next to her being pushed by Jack. She’s overwhelmed by it, by the image of all four of her kids together laughing and having fun. She’s about to ask Aaron to take a photo, her own phone somewhere inside the house, placed down as she tried to organise her son’s birthday party and all the food they’d made for their guests.  She doesn’t think she’s ever loved her husband more than when she sees he’s already doing it, taking dozens of pictures so she’d have a choice of her favourite. 

“Can you send those to me?” She asks, and he nods, wrapping his arm around her waist. 

“Already on the way to you, sweetheart.” 

She squeezes his hand and goes in search of her phone. She sets one of the pictures as her wallpaper immediately, making sure she had a reminder every time she looked at her phone of what she had now. Of what she’d lost and regained. There were times when she wished more than anything she could speak to her 15-year-old self, that she could tell her everything would be okay in the end. That she’d know her daughter. That she’d have a family with the love of her life. Most of the time, she was glad that she couldn’t. Sure that the person she was now wouldn’t exist if she had known what was to come. 

The future was a gift to the young, the path laid out before them a mystery they must walk. 

“Mom,” Rebecca calls into the kitchen, her smile wide as her eyes meet Emily’s, “Rosie is demanding you join her on the swings.” 

She nods and looks down at her phone one more time before she tucks it into her pocket, “I’m coming, honey.” 

[ghostxrose]

Time Stood Still | Bakugo Katsuki x Reader

Summary ~ Katsuki is tired of everything to do with soulmates and mushy love crap. The love stories that he's subjected to listen to are all the same; disgustingly sappy. Each one solidifies that he doesn't want, or have time for, love and a soulmate.. then he comes across you.

Tags/Warnings ~ Fem!Reader, character death, angst, sad ending, soulmate au, hurt no comfort, let me know if I should add any other tags..

Note ~ Hi, Lovelies! Sooo, this is me getting back into writing with just a teeny tiny bit of angst, lol.. It is short and not nearly as angsty as stuff I've written before, but I hope you enjoy it all the same! I love and appreciate you all, Lovelies!! <3 <3

Katsuki could feel his perpetual scowl deepen the further he scrolled through his social media feed. Every other post is a “found my soulmate” post, and he legitimately wonders just how he could be seeing posts like that every day with his friend list being so short. He also wonders why every post seems to say the same gushy crap every time. Honestly, he doesn’t even know why he bothers scrolling through any of his social media when it’s all the same crap. Every. Single. Day.

“Time stood still..”

Katsuki has heard or read those three words his whole life whenever people described meeting their soulmates. His parents, his relatives, and even some of his friends who have met their soulmates already. And it’s always the same sappy story that gets told leading up to that same stupid line.

“Time stood still..”

And he’s never believed it for a second because how stupidly cliche is it for “time to stop” when looking at someone? Even if that someone is supposedly who you’re meant to be with because some “higher power” said so.

“Time stood still..”

It’s all crap in Katsuki’s mind, straight-up bullshit. He doesn’t want or need a soulmate, and he doesn’t believe anything would happen if he ever met them. Time wouldn’t stop. No one would be running into each other’s arms. None of that gushy, lovey-dovey, movie crap would happen. It’s all completely unrealistic stuff that people add to their stories to make them sound better, and Katsuki doesn’t want any part of it.

Right as he’s hitting the point of wondering why there’s no “disgusted” button between every like and dislike button out there, a villain attack alert fills his phone screen. With the crackling of his comms coming to life officially marking the end of his lunch break, he slips his phone into his pocket. As he blasts off to the location of the villain attack, all thoughts of soulmates and sappy crap are replaced with the slightly feral excitement of an impending fight.

Getting to the scene, all of Katsuki’s excitement dissipates as he takes in the wreckage that has already been made. The operator he has been receiving details from had said that the villain’s Quirk is dangerous and destructive. Looking around at the crumbling buildings and cracked pavement, Katsuki feels the description was a gross understatement.

For only a moment longer, Katsuki watches the few rescue heroes that have already arrived on the scene work before he steels himself and takes off toward the latest location of the rampaging villain. When he does catch up to the villain, he’s secretly relieved to find other heroes have arrived as well. Deku, Kirishima, and a few other heavy hitters whose Quirks would work well against the villain’s Quirk. Wasting no time, Katsuki is patched through to the frequency that Deku and the other heroes are using, and he joins the battle.

The fight is grueling and goes on for hours before the villain is finally taken down and apprehended. It doesn’t feel like a win to Katsuki, though, not with the carnage left in the wake of the fight. There’s rubble everywhere from downed buildings, chunks of pavement are missing from the ruined streets, and then there are the casualties.. There aren’t as many as there could have been, but they are still civilian lives lost. Katsuki forces himself to stay in hero mode as he helps with rescue efforts. He can focus on the pain of his injuries and his self-deprecating thoughts later.

He continues moving through a half-collapsed apartment building, calling out and asking if anybody needs help. He manages to help a few injured civilians out of the building, making sure to get them to the teams of medical personnel right away. Luckily, it seemed that most of the people who had lived in that apartment building managed to evacuate before the villain came ripping through it.

In the midst of helping an elderly woman to an ambulance, Katsuki notices a few medics surrounding somebody and performing CPR on the person. Kirishima is standing off to the side of them with a grim and guilty look on his face. Katsuki quickly makes sure the elderly lady is in the care of a medic before making his way over to his friend. Now, Katsuki is absolutely not the face of comfort, but in growing up he tries to be there for his friends when they need it, damn it.

“Red,” Katsuki rasps out, his tone a touch gentler than it normally is as he walks up to his friend.

“She.. she was barely breathing when I found her, but I.. I thought that if I was fast enough, they could help her..” Kirishima explains helplessly, his voice thick with emotion, as he continues staring at the scene in front of him.

It’s then that Katsuki looks over at the medics and the woman they are trying to save. Unfortunately, he chooses to look over right as they declare the time of death and they all step back from the woman. Getting a clear look at her, Katsuki’s breath catches in his chest, and a pain like he’s never felt before spreads through his chest.

He had believed it was all bullshit. He had believed that everyone just spewed that crap to make their stories more sappy and gushy. He’s never even wanted a soulmate. Never believed he could love some stranger even if they were meant for him. Time doesn’t stop for anyone or anything, so why carry the belief that it would even feel like that while looking at some random? It was all crap in Katsuki’s mind..

Until now.

Staring at your limp and lifeless body, a peaceful look on your face underneath the blood and dust, Katsuki is in complete disbelief. It.. it was all supposed to be bullshit. He didn’t even know it was truly possible to feel anything like this..

“Baku- Dynamight? Are you okay? Did you know her?” Kirishima’s voice sets everything back into motion, and it’s fucking painful.

Gritting his teeth as tears well up in his eyes without his permission, Katsuki’s voice rasps quietly, “I think.. she was my soulmate.”

Anything else Kirishima says is lost to Katsuki as he feels his knees give out, his chest feeling like a hole was blown through it. The pain of loss consumes him, choking him with a lump of emotions he never thought he’d feel. Thoughts of what it would have been like to get to know you, what your voice sounded like, how you would have helped him learn how to love someone.. they all race through his head, crossing the painful finish line of it all being ripped away from him before he’s even had the opportunity to give the whole soulmate thing a chance.

His whole goddamn life, Katsuki had never believed a word anybody said about love and soulmates. Then he saw you and in the worst way possible..

Time stood still.

Divider Credit ~ @deadbranch