#first of all. would it kill people to leave comments that say at least one (1) nice thing about the fic

[bookinit02]

mildly pissed at the world today

[werecreature-addicted]

Ok, imagine this, werewolf is in love with his neighbor, a human girl, everything would be fine if it weren't for the fact that the girl is a single mother of a little boy, and I'm not saying this because it's a bad thing for a woman to be a single mother, I'm saying this because of their neighbors, the other human neighbors have the mistaken idea that werewolves are cruel to other men's children, even propagating the absurd idea that werewolves kill the children of other males when they are interested in the mother. Of course our werewolf would never do that, werewolves would never harm a woman's offspring, so he has to be very careful and almost transparent to be able to woo the girl without her thinking that he is a danger to her or his little son

he meets your child first. he's just trying to carry in groceries, all of them in one trip of course, when he hears a small "can I help?" he looks down and sees a human pup with big wide eyes and a missing front tooth. He'd known that knew people had moved in next door a little while ago but he didn't know they came with a kid.

"Sure," he says and hands the kid one bag to carry as they trek up the driveway. it's a short walk and he can easily do it himself, but the werewolf thinks the boy is cute, so young yet already helpful and determined to prove his strength. what a good pack leader he would be one day. the kid drops the bag by his door and then runs back to his yard to play. The werewolf had never paid much attention to his next-door neighbors but he would start now.

He meets you a few days later and wow. he's never met a human so pretty. you seem nervous, a little frazzled from the recent move, but sweet. he tells you about your son helping him with the groceries and offers to help you any time you need anything, just looking for an excuse to see you again.

And you do need his help a lot around the house. it's hard trying to do everything yourself especially when you're raising a little boy. Luckily your neighbor is always there whether it's to replace some shingles on your roof or just play with your son for a little so you can get five minutes to yourself. you won't lie, you do pick specific favors to ask of him. sure you could do your own yard work, but there's just something so sexy about a sweaty hard-working werewolf.

He's so sweet he almost instantly becomes a part of your life. You can tell he's interested in you, you're not an idiot, and you'd be lying if you said you didn't like him too. It's flattering to have someone clearly so into you even knowing you have a child.

You spend of late nights confiding in him and before you know it you start to think you're falling for him. then you happen to mention your blooming romance to one of your coworkers and they inform you, horrified, that if a werewolf is interested in a woman with a child they're known to kill the child so the mother can focus on raising the werewolf pups. The story chills you, you'd heard similar things about lions in the wild, and maybe it was true for all preditors.

you can't help but spiral a little bit, you've been leaving your baby alone with a hungry wolf. but... somehow you don't believe it. He had never shown himself to be violent or even anything but loving towards your son. and you knew he was closer to human than some wild animal. he wouldn't really do something like that, would he?

When you get home you're a little jumpy around your neighbor, which he notices. you don't let your son go over to his yard to play and you don't invite him over for dinner, which is odd, to say the least. but he doesn't push. You feel stupid, avoiding him like this, why should you be scared of someone who'd been nothing but kind?

you go out onto your porch that night and see him out looking up at the stars. when he hears you he waves you over.

"it's a pretty night," you comment sitting beside him, awkwardly.

"prettier with you here," he teases, you feel your face go hot and you have to look away, he laughs at your embarrassment. you're quiet for a long time before you finally bring up what was on your mind.

you don't come out and say "Hey are you going to murder my child to get closer to me?" but instead you ask him:

"you flirt with me a lot, but does it ever bother you that I have a child? does that make you hesitate to have a real relationship?" it's still blunt but it's not quite as accusatory.

"I've always wanted kids, I love your son, I'm not going to run because of it, I want you and you having a son doesn't change that," he assures you. A few months later you'll admit exactly what your coworker said, he was horrified you ever thought he'd be capable of hurting the boy he views as his son, and he tells you in no uncertain terms that he would die to protect the both of you. no harm is coming to either of you while he's here to protect his family.

[ellecdc]

thank you, McLaggen

inspired by the TikTok audio of Phil Dunphy saying "if you ever say anything disrespectful about my wife again, I'll kill you. Sorry, I don't know why that sounded like a joke; I will actually kill you."

James Potter x fem!reader who was apparently 'too much' for McLaggen

CW: they're at a party, readers last relationship left her feeling small, but she loves James and is all good now

It took a bit of unlearning when you found yourself in a relationship with James Potter. 

He sensed your hangups immediately; as if you were a duffle bag containing paraphernalia and he was a well-trained drug dog.

He noticed the way you seemed to fold in on yourself when you were excited, the way you cut yourself off when you began rambling, and the way you seemed to make yourself smaller as if that was what was required for the people around you to feel comfortable.

“Why do you keep snuffing out your own light, lovie? I miss your spark.” He’d said to you one night.

In all honesty, you hadn’t been aware you were even doing such a thing.

But you certainly knew why. 

Though your mother always told you to never look back on life with regrets, you’d spent about a year in what you now consider to be a rather unfortunate relationship with Tiberius McLaggen. 

And though you hadn’t noticed he’d been doing it; by the time your relationship ended, you realised you were perhaps a mere shadow of the person you used to be.

He’d ended the relationship after suggesting you were ‘too much’.

The irony of it was you were the smallest you’d ever been at that point; the ‘least’ you that you could possibly be. How could you be ‘too much’ and diminished at the same time?

You spent a lot of time reflecting after that, but it seemed that when you and James started your relationship, those old habits and qualities made their way back into your subconscious and it took James pointing it out for you to even notice.

You were glad he had, though. He was lovely, and he was caring, and he loved you. He loved your energy, he loved your passion, he loved your excitement, and better yet, he loved sharing those qualities with you.

All of the traits that your ex had deemed unseemly or unflattering were the traits you loved most about James, and in turn what he most loved about you.

And why would you deny such a lovely person of anything they wanted?

You just couldn’t.

So the two of you had been dating for nearly five months already, and you felt more comfortable in yourself than you ever had before.

You thought perhaps that this was just the effect James had on people; you found it almost impossible for any of his friends to be anything but their best selves when they were in his presence. 

You loved him immensely for it. 

You were getting a first hand look at exactly that from your spot on the arm of the sofa as you watched Peter throw his head back in boisterous laughter not usually seen from the typically soft spoken marauder. James didn’t even spend any time being smug about eliciting such a laugh from the cushion below you before he was complimenting Remus on his jumper, knowing very well that Sirius was the one who picked it out for him - and also knowing Sirius would absolutely take full responsibility for the compliment - only to coo about how sweet they were together and leaving both boys blushing messes. 

You had almost forgotten you were sitting in the middle of a Gryffindor party when someone sidled up beside you.

“Lookin’ good, Y/N.” McLaggen commented as he looked you up and down.

You fought the urge to grimace as you narrowed your eyes at him. “Tiberius.” 

“Didn’t think I’d see you here; not really your scene, is it?” He commented with an air of casualty you knew was entirely for show. “I’m here with my new bird; she’s in Gryffindor.” He carried on without waiting for you to respond.

You hummed in acknowledgement as you looked around the room. “It doesn’t look like you’re here with anyone, McLaggen, seeing as you’re standing here talking to me.” 

“Come now, can’t old friends catch up?” He said salaciously. 

“We’re not friends, Tiberius.” You retorted forcefully.

He held his hands up in mock surrender as he chuckled at you. “Down girl, no need to get all jumpy now. You always were a bit of a handful, weren’t you?” 

You didn’t even have a chance to tell McLaggen where to shove it before James was standing up from his place hidden behind you as McLaggen’s face fell. 

“Ah, if it isn’t Tiberius McLaggen; kicked off the Ravenclaw quidditch team, failing Astronomy, received a mere acceptable in Herbology last term, and totally shit the bed with the most beautiful girl in Hogwarts. I’ve heard so much about you!” James recounted with faux cheer as he stuck his hand out to McLaggen, forcing the bloke to give him an awkward handshake as James stared at him hard.

James Potter was still flashing his (what should be award winning) smile, but it never met his eyes which were no longer their warm hazel. 

“Sounds like you’re the one I have to thank.” James carried on as he dropped McLaggen’s hand, wiped his own hand off on his trousers and threw his other arm protectively, possessively, affectionately over your shoulder. “Turns out if you hadn’t been such an absolute fucking tosser and fumbled the best thing to have ever happened to you, I wouldn’t have my sweet, gorgeous girl here. Congrats on losing the most lovely little thing to have ever looked your way; now sod off before I decide to do something that might just be worth making her frown over.”

You were unsuccessful in hiding your snort of amusement as you hid your face in James’ shoulder and listened to McLaggen scoff and stalk away. 

“Merlin’s tits, Prongsie! Did anyone else know James could be mean!?” Sirius cackled as the two of you turned back towards the group. 

“I don’t think I’ve ever seen James end a conversation without at least wishing someone a good day.” Peter carried on.

“Did you actually threaten the sod?” Marlene continued.

“No, I didn’t threaten him.” James muttered somewhat petulantly. “I promised him pain if he ever spoke to my girl like that again.”

The group cheered as you felt a shy yet pleased heat spread across your face and you shoved your face back into James’ shoulder.

James, for his part, accepted you eagerly and rubbed his hand up and down your arm as he pressed a kiss into your hair. 

“I’ll never let anyone make you feel small ever again.” He promised quietly; whether he was promising himself, or you, or McLaggen, you weren’t entirely sure.

What you were entirely sure of was that it was a promise he intended to keep.

[dilfartist]

Yandere JJK Headcannons

Kidnapping, dark themes, abuse, talk of killing, stalking, obsession, the usual yandere warnings, yandere tendencies.

Notes; {Sorry if any of the characters seem out of character, just started season 2. Please enjoy. I know this isn’t the best work but I want to get back into the writing game.}

Reader description; Female/GN

Not proofread

Reblogs and Comments are greatly appreciated!

Gojo Satoru

When it comes to Satoru Gojo’s love life, it’s quite lonely. Although Gojo is a very attractive man, he lacks a relationship for two main reasons: Gojo’s lack of commitment and his status as the strongest (implied in the mangas.)

So when you catch Gojo’s eye he is taken aback by his feelings. Why have you altered his brain? Usually, he meets a girl/guy and they’ll be the ones to swoon over him, or he’ll be interested in them for a while until his responsibilities have overtaken his mind and the person fades away into a forgotten memory that lingers in the back of his mind. However, with you it's different. He is the one swooning over you, kicking his feet and giggling like a schoolgirl with a massive crush. The thought of you never leaves his mind. He’s conflicted.

He doesn't mind hurting or threatening others for you.

Not a day goes by without at least a mention of you in his mind. When he’s cooking, he’ll think, I wonder what ramen they like. When he’s in the shower, (Name) smells like [favorite scent], I wonder what shampoo they use. When at work, I should check by their house today, just to make sure no cursed spirits are rooming around.

Whether you are a civilian or another teacher, you are most definitely weaker than him. This fact makes Gojo so possessive over you. Gojo knows what happens to weak people; they die by his hand or others. He worries for you, a lot. He is a very busy man even if he does send his students to complete his tasks. Not to say time for himself is nonexistent, no, it's just he can’t check on you the amount of times he’d like to. He is The Gojo Satoru; most curses and people have it out for him. If anyone were to notice his obvious attachment to you, you’d be killed, most likely, immediately. So as a result of his uncommon paranoia, he snatches you up.

Once you’re in Gojo’s care, Gojo will try his best to make you feel at home. He knows that taking you away from family, friends, and overall having your own freedom isn’t fair, and if he honestly had no one after him, he’d allow you to live your life as you please. Of course, as long as he is a part of it as well. At first, he buys all the snacks and foods he knows you like and once they’ve been eaten or wasted, he’ll take you grocery shopping with him for anything you’d like.

Megumi has 80% of an idea of what is going on between you and Gojo. He most definitely has an idea of what is happening. You never seem too pleased to be in Gojo’s house and the way Gojo talks about you makes him do a double take. It doesn't seem normal; but then again he’s Gojo, he isn’t normal. And although Megumi wants what’s best for innocent people, he’s known Gojo for too long and he doesn't believe Gojo would kidnap someone for selfishness or any reason he deems corrupt. So Megumi puts his judgments aside thinking Gojo and you are just weirdos.

Gojo is very touchy with you,(but then again he’s touchy with anyone he deems a friend or is on good terms with.) At first, when you first are kidnapped, he is less handsy, only touching you occasionally. But as time goes on he grows more comfortable with touching you since you’re beginning to deem his touches as a regular part of your day. However, that doesn't mean Gojo will put his hands on you against your comfort just because he wants to. If you state you’re uncomfortable with his touch, he’ll immediately retract, sometimes with a small pout. The only time he will not listen to you is when he is putting you in your place. For example: you attempting to run away.

Now, for your punishments. He doesn't really do those. Usually, he acts like a preschool teacher dealing with a naughty child, clicking his tongue in disapproval, folding his arms when you give him attitude, and trying to reason with you in a gentle way. Gojo doesn’t baby you. He doesn't see you as some adult acting like a child, unlike some yanderes would. Then again occasionally you will have a tantrum. Gojo understands your frustrations and so he handles them with a calming approach. Still, he will match your energy if he decides need be. If you attempt punishable offenses like running away, attempting to murder him, or trying to get Megumi to help you, Gojo will not be so kind the majority of the time.

Honestly, Gojo is 5/10 yandere. He’s understanding and not delusional. Besides him kidnapping you and being the master of annoying yapping, you’re better off with him as your yandere.

Nanami Kento

Nanami wants a normal happy life but his job interferes with his dream. So when he meets you, he’s a bit more pleased with his life. He loves everything about you. You understand him and that's all he wants.

Nanami most likely met you after work, looking for a bite to eat. You worked there as the cashier just as tired as he was. As part of your job, you make light conversation, however, you and Nanami talked longer, maybe about five minutes before he finally left.

After that interaction, Nanami visits your job more In light hopes of seeing you again. Nanami convinces himself that he just wants a bite to eat again, he isn’t coming here for you...but seeing you again would be nice. The more often he comes by your job the more his obsession with you grows. Similar to Gojo, he will think about you constantly throughout the week.

Nanami Is such a laidback Yandere that you won’t detect, and most likely never will. Nanami isn't the type to kill someone because they flirted with you or breathed in your direction. And he isn’t possessive of you. The only yandere tendencies he has is obsessing over you in his thoughts and being only a bit possessive. He watches you through the day, he has a little camera in the house to watch you. You don’t know that though since it’s up so high on the top of the cabinets. He has your phone tracked with life360, you don’t know that because he has it hidden on your phone. You don't know after he finally realized he liked you, he followed you around in his free time to stalk you a bit and find out more about you.

Other than that, Nanami Is pretty laid back. Well, unless you decide to run away or leave him, then his true nature will show.

If you run away for whatever reason then you won’t see him coming after you. You may have an Idea because of the few alarmed texts he sends you before you block him. You won't see Nanami for a while until you just minding your own business, maybe grabing a bite to eat, and suddenly standing behind you In line with you is an unenthusiastic Nanami. You won’t even try to run at first because seeing him look at you with a warning in his eyes makes every escape plan fade away. You’re terrified. You’re as terrified as a child who has yelled at their mother.

You find yourself back In Nanami’s home, now having alarms, locks, and a couple of cameras around. You aren’t allowed out the house until Nanami considers you worthy.

As a yandere, Nanami is rated a 4/10.

Geto Suguru

Geto’s behavior really depends on whether you are a normal civilian or a curse user. If you’re a curse user you’re treated far better than a normal person. Geto would treat his civilian darling like a pet. Like a dog of sorts.

For now, let's focus on a civilian darling.

To understand Geto’s point of view, I will give you an example: Geto is kinda like a hunter. Geto is like a hunter who hunts animals because he thinks all their good for is being food and they are inferior to him. Now imagine a hunter coming across a cute bunny rabbit. The hunter learns about the bunny a bit, finding its little quirks endearing. The Hunter decides to take home the rabbit and keep it for himself as a pet, but he still thinks all animals are inferior to him. This bunny is just a bit more likable than others.

Now I don’t think Geto will act like other Yanderes and actually treat you as a pet but he will act like you are in ways. Sometimes he’ll relax and have you lay your head on his lap as he pets you. He’ll beckon for you as If you’re a dog. He expects you to be loving to him as soon as he enters the room. Wants you to follow him and not wander off anywhere else. He even calls you a pet sometimes. However, you don’t have a collar nor do you have a dog crate.

Geto most likely, just like the others, found you by mistake. What really starts the obsession is If you make a comment on his beliefs. Disagreeing or agreeing with his beliefs, he starts to look at you differently from the other humans. There are two ways you came across the belief Geto holds since you’re a normal civilian. One, you found a source online speaking of this belief: A YouTube essay, a sketchy online website, a theorist. Two, you overheard Geto speaking to no one, since civilians can’t see curses, and decided to put your two cents in for whatever reason.

Like a hunter, Geto will set out a trap. He’ll offer to take you out on dates, ask for your phone number, seem like a normal man that has taken an interest in you. And if you accept any of these, you’re nothing more than a little mouse approaching the cheese bait in the open mouse trap.

Once he kidnaps you, and he will, you mainly stay in the room you share with Geto unless Geto is home and requests your presence. You help around with his daughters and make dinner for him, just as he requests of you.

Now if you are a fellow curse user, you aren’t treated as badly as a civilian darling.

You aren’t expected to follow him around everywhere, you aren’t called a pet (only at times.) No matter how strong you are, Geto has the upper hand. You will be pressured into a relationship with him, by him, and by a few other curse users. Escaping isn’t a possibility for curse user Darling or civilian Darling. He will be on your tail in no time. You could make a couple of blocks away from the house if he’s being lazy. If Geto is out then he’ll send someone out for you. You have more of a chance with others coming after you than with Geto coming after you.

Geto has no problem disciplining you, especially if you’re a civilian darling. Pets must be disciplined when attempting to run out of the house. His punishments include starvation (depending on how many days he deems the punishment worthy), flogging, and breaking a bone. Nothing too terrible. Well, not as bad as you could have it.

Overall, Geto as a yandere is an 8/10.

Ryomen Sukuna

When it comes to Sukana, he is a manipulative and masochist yandere. He enjoys watching you suffer. He loves hearing the cries of pain slip from your sweet lips. Not only because he enjoys human suffering in general but also the fact you make him feel crazy. He isn’t used to romantic obsession. He hates- no despises feeling weak because of you. He takes out his frustrations on you, breaking fingers, hurting you, verbally abusing you, and playing with your feelings. Anything to feel the pleasure he gets from the frown that settles on your lips and the tears pricking your eyes.

While inside Yuji, his thoughts are full of you. Despite the way he treats you, he does adore you. Although, he’ll never let the words be said. He finds himself missing you, wanting to be near you. And he isn’t always hurting you, sometimes you sit together in a peaceful silence. Sometimes you have nice conversations.

Sukana is possessive. He hates when someone is stealing his time away from you. And if you were to be flirted with, he’d curse at the person from Yuji’s cheeks. If he’s railed up enough, he might even attempt to come out of Yuji.

The only way he is able to communicate with you and spend any time with you is because there are sorcerors watching over you guys in his domain. If he ends up hurting you in front of them, then you immediately come out and won’t visit him until you completely heal. Which is why is such a rare occurrence for him to hurt you physically. And if you think you’d be able to avoid him, you’re wrong. He will have tantrums. It gets to the point that you are obligated to stay with Sukana for at least an hour in his domain for the sake of everyone having a headache.

In general, he is a 6/10 yandere. He really can’t do anything. Not much to speak about.

Toji Fushiguro

Toji hasn't had an interest in relationships since the death of his late wife, so imagine his frustration when you come into his life. Sweet, loveable, you.

Laid back Yandere

When you two first meet he could care less about you. To him, you’re just another annoying person. However, when he gets to know you better, he warms up to you. Then as weeks pass, he feels familiar feelings he used to experience with his wife, it irks him, even frightens him slightly. When Megumi’s mother had died, Toji believed he’d never love again. He wasn’t interested in relationships. Now imagine the frustration he feels when he catches feelings for you. Toji attempts to ignore your existence because he isn’t looking for love and has more important events to worry about, but you won’t go away. Toji takes these feelings out on you, making it seem you caused him to feel this way on purpose to piss him off. You don’t hang around him like an annoying fly, you both just come across each other a lot. Toji likes to act like that isn’t the case. Toji will suck his teeth, grumbling about how you must like him since you’re near him all the time.

It takes about a good two months until Toji starts to really accept the fact he is obsessed with you. And you can start the see the signs when he calms down with the asshole act and begins to put on a soft act around you. He’ll act like you guys are already dating just without affection.

Toji will kidnap you, no doubt about it. Toji has already lost his first wife, he won’t lose you. The loss of his first wife is ultimately the reason he is a Yandere. You’re better off meeting him before he meets his first wife, he won’t be as protective and possessive.

Punishments really depend on his mood at the moment. When it comes to punishments his go-to is silent treatment, starvation (you’d probably starve anyway since he’s a broke ass bitch), and being forced to stay locked in a room for hours. Now hurting you for punishment is a different story. Toji will do anything in his power not to cause you harm. Hurting you might cause something major to happen and Toji hates knowing the fact that he was the one to hurt you. If it has to come to that point, Toji acts as if he could care less about hurting you. He acts like he doesn’t mind doing so. But if you observe closely you can tell that he is beating himself up for harming you.

Murdering, hurting, and threatening other people is easy for Toji. In fact, it’s his immediate reaction to someone he feels is a threat to your relationship. So if you’re not careful and piss Toji off enough, he might just kill your family. Best if you listen.

Home life with him isn’t bad. For the most part, Toji is a laid-back Yandere. It feels like you too are roommates, but your roomate likes kiss up on you and forbids you to leave the house without him by your side.

Overall, Toji is a 5/10 Yandere.

Mahito

Mahito is a fun yandere to think about.

As a yandere, he is a sadistic-possessive yandere. His obsession begins when he finds something interesting about you. Maybe you're a tourist who can’t speak Japanese very well and Mahito finds it adorable. Or maybe you bumped into him and saw him, making others look at you crazy since most humans can’t see him. You intrigue him more than other humans and he won’t let you out of his sight.

Mahito enjoys messing with you, all your reactions are endearing. He just adores the flush of embarrassment on your cheeks when others stop and stare at you after he a mountain of cans beside you. Giggles when you embarrass yourself yet again because you sometimes get so fed up with him that you go off on him in public areas. You humans can be so fun to play with!

He is now your roommate, like it or not. Follows you around everywhere, even the bathroom. He never leaves no matter how much you beg him. Loves to misplace your favorite foods because he knows it pisses you off and gives him a good laugh.

Literally gives no fucks killing off anyone posing a threat to your relationship. Hell, he’ll kill anyone for the sake of love. Mahito uses the threat of killing to keep you in check most of the time.

Punishments include anything sadistic that comes to his mind. You either get no punishment or the worst punishment you can imagine. After the punishment is over, Mahito always coos at you, kissing your booboos better. He claims he hates doing such vile acts to you when he teases you.

Overall, he's a damn parasite sucking out all the joy in your life. 1/10.

[barcaatthemoon]

friend of the bride || lia walti x reader ||

You hook up with Lia at your best friend's wedding.

MINORS DNI, 18+, Smut warning.

You knew about Lia. You had never played against Lia, but you knew all about her. It was your job to know about football, both international and domestic. She hadn't played in the NWSL, but you were a pretty big Arsenal fan even before she had joined up. But even before then, you had heard people in the business talking about the Swiss player.

It made sense that she'd be in the bridal party. Lia was Ana's best friend, and maid of honor. In a way, you thought it was wild that the two of you weren't better acquainted. Obviously you understood Ana being hesitant about introducing the two of you. You were a bit of a womanizer to say the least, even if you had settled down quite a bit since starting your gig as an official NWSL commentator.

"Excuse me, I don't know if we know each other. I'm (Y/n)." You could feel Ana's eyes on you as you approached Lia. There weren't many people that made you nervous, but your best friend's new wife was definitely one of them. The two of you had been teammates years ago whenever Ana played on the Thorns, and maybe, just maybe, you had seen a spark all those years ago.

Nothing had ever come of it, and you were happier because of it. Ana was cool, and she definitely would have hated you whenever you transferred across the country at the end of the year. You weren't a native to New Jersey, but Rutgers had offered you a full ride, so you counted yourself as a bit of a Jersey girl. Sky Blue wasn't perfect by any means, but it was definitely the place that you had wanted to retire playing for.

"I'm Lia, and no, we haven't been properly introduced," she said. She outstretched her hand, and you took the offering. Behind you, you could practically feel Ana attempting to burn holes into the back of your head to deter you. "My friend is watching us."

"If I'm being honest, I don't blame her. She's heard stories of how I can be at weddings." Bashful wasn't something that normally worked well with you, but Lia found the blush cute. It became obvious as she patted the chair in front of her that she knew a bit about you. Ana had to have warned her before either of you arrived in Seattle for the wedding.

"I've heard stories of how you are away from weddings. I get it though, life feels a bit more special with all of this love in the air," Lia said. You thought that she was sweet, and a part of you was about to back out when she grabbed onto your wrist. "I fly out tomorrow afternoon, and I'd hate to leave without as many good memories as I can get."

"She'll kill me if we leave together," you told Lia. She glanced behind you and waved at Ana. You did everything in your power not to turn, but Lia seemed amused by whatever was going on behind you. "Is she being mean?"

"Not at all, but you should say your goodbyes and get your coat. I'm in room 615," Lia told you. She slipped her key card in your pocket, and you wondered how long she had been watching you. Lia left first, leaving you to sit there stunned for a moment. It was hasty, but you said your goodbyes and promised Ana that you'd be safe with her friend. She was a bit dismissive, but you didn't miss the little twinkle in her eye. If you had any more to drink, you would have considered that she was happy about you and Lia running off together.

It seemed almost too good to be true that Lia's room was on the same floor as yours. You made a quick stop at your own room to shed your suit jacket and make sure that you still looked good. Your room was only a few doors down from Lia's, and you wondered if she had seen you at all over the week. The entirety of the wedding party had been flown in several days earlier than all of the other guests, and you doubted the maid of honor had been an exception to that.

"You left your jacket. That's a shame, it looked good. At least I can still do this," Lia said as she grabbed you by your tie and pulled you into the room. You stumbled a little, but caught yourself as Lia's arms wrapped around your shoulders. She was still in her dress, but without her heels on, you were a couple inches taller than her. "You know, I had always hoped you would find your way to the WSL. I would have liked to play against you."

"I bet we could have had a lot of fun together." Lia seemed to catch onto the hidden meaning of your words quickly. You were a bit surprised by her forwardness as she kissed you. It was welcome, as was the feeling of her hands pulling your button out from where it had been tucked into your pants.

The women you hooked up with had all definitely wanted you, but they were rarely as confident in themselves as Lia. She was sweet and gentle, but it wasn't submissive in the slightest. She took what she wanted without overstepping, and it took you several moments for your brain to kick in and join her.

"Take my dress off," Lia told you. You didn't hesitate for even half a second to turn the Swiss woman around. There was a little clasp by the small of her back, and once it was undone, Lia let the dress slip off from her body and pool onto the floor.

You could see that her chest was bare, but that did nothing to prepare you for the sight of her. She stood in front of you completely topless. You weren't being subtle in your staring, but Lia didn't seem to mind it. She let you keep staring as she pushed you back onto the bed. Lia climbed onto your lap, and there she sat straddling you as she looked down at you.

"There are plenty of more comfortable places for you to sit," you started. Lia showed her amusement with a little half-smirk. Normally, your jokes garnered a bit more of a reaction, and the fact that she hadn't given you one made you want to try again. You wanted to impress this woman with every part of you, and you had no idea why. Nobody was supposed to mean this much to you, not for a single night anyway.

"I'm already practically naked on top of you, lines aren't necessary," Lia told you. You nodded and swallowed, somewhat nervous as she stared at you. It was like she was studying you, less out of curosity, but more in the way a predator would study its prey. "You're wearing too much, and I'd hate to ruin your very nice suit."

You nearly let out a whine as Lia moved off of you. You scrambled off of the bed and hastily undressed yourself, not caring that for a moment, you were more bare than she was. Lia hummed in appreciation as you stood in front of her, completely naked. She guided you down onto your knees in front of her and leaned over her own lap to kiss you.

"Show me what you can do. I hope everything I've heard about you is true," Lia said. Even after she broke the kiss, you didn't stop kissing her. Your mouth moved all over her neck and jaw, occasionally stopping to mark a couple of hickeys for her to take as a temporary souvenir. You were a lot less careful with your marking whenever you got to her chest, sucking as many love bites onto her skin as you could.

Lia tried not to rush you, but you could tell that her patience was growing thin. She ground herself against the palm of your hand as you cupped her over her underwear. You let out a pleasured groan at the feeling of her heat through the fabric. You could practically feel her arousal growing as she moved against your hand.

"More, I want more," Lia told you. You took your time teasing her as you took her underwear off. Your face was buried into the side of her thigh when your attention was pulled by a frustrated growl. Lia looked down at you with a look so sweet that you almost got whiplash from the way her hand balled into a fist around your hair.

You let her guide your face, only sticking your tongue out to give her something to seek out. Lia loosened her grip when she felt your lips wrap around her clit. Her thighs clamped around your head, holding you against her as she rocked her hips back and forth gently. You pried her thighs apart to make room for your fingers to tease at her entrance, stroking over the hole with the promise of penetration.

This time, Lia didn't have to ask or tell you to keep going. Once you got into your groove, everything came very naturally to you. Lia was moving wildly on the bed, each buck of her hips punctuated by a little creak of the bed. Between Lia's moaning, the bed creaking, and the absolutely obscene sound of your fingers fucking in and out of her, there wasn't a moment of silence.

"That's it, right there. Don't you dare stop. Oh fuck!" Lia exclaimed. You felt a sharp tug to your hair as her other hand wrapped around the back of your neck. You could feel her nails dig into your skin, but the pain of it just made your eyes roll back in your head a little. Above you, Lia's body held you close even as she tried to squirm away from you, torn between wanting to stop and wanting to see just how hard you could make her cum. Ultimately, she ended up pushing you away just a couple minutes later as her body began to approach overstimulation.

"I think you did a number on me," you muttered as you rubbed at the little nail indents on the back of your neck. Lia sat up on her elbows, just enough to see her reflection in the TV. She looked gorgeous to you, disheleved in the most perfect of ways. There was no denying what had just happened, not when you looked at Lia.

"I can do a lot worse," Lia laughed. You clammed up a bit at her words. You had no idea what was wrong with you because Lia shouldn't have been getting to you this badly. She was practically a stranger, and yet, you didn't want to just gather your clothes and run off to your own room just yet. "If you ever find yourself in London, message me. Now though, I think you should get going. Guests are going to be back any moment now."

"I've never been asked out and kicked out at the same time. You are something else," you said in disbelief. Lia could tell that you weren't angry, and just to keep it that way, she walked you out. A part of you wanted to linger, but aside from a pretty chaste kiss, Lia didn't give you the opportunity. You just had to hope that you'd catch her before she ran off the next day, but even if you didn't, you couldn't be mad about how your night went.

[irisintheafterglow]

in his limited spare time, bakugo katsuki volunteers at the local animal shelter.

cw: brief blood/injury, swearing, much longer than i anticipated (i got carried away) this one's for you @lees-chaotic-brain <3

you were bewildered, at first, when the top-ranking pro stomped his way through the lobby not in need of a pet, but a job. everyone's starting foundations and scholarships and shit, he grumbled when you carefully asked why he wanted to be a shelter volunteer. i don't need any of that flashy shit. just wanna do something that makes a difference. you declined to point out that his job was making a difference in people's lives and wordlessly handed him the clipboard with the signup paperwork.

a few days later, he listens diligently during volunteer training and doesn't so much as wrinkle his nose when he enters the urine-stenched kennels on the walking tour. he stalks around the perimeter of the concrete building, barely flinching when the more aggressive dogs flash their sharp teeth. as the tour moves on to the cat cottages, you linger behind and watch him determinedly take a seat in front of the loudest and largest dog, a 90-pound shepherd mix who was also the longest resident of the shelter.

"she was mistreated, i think," you say as the room quiets until the only dog barking was the one snarling at bakugo. he doesn't look at you but acknowledges your words with a simple nod, looking carefully at the defensive animal in front of him. "i call her daisy."

"how long's she been here?"

"over a year and a half," you reply, approaching daisy's kennel and having a seat next to bakugo. his eyes flicker to you for only a moment before returning to the dog. "i was the one who received her when animal control brought her in."

"she trusts you," he observes. daisy has resorted to quiet growling from the corner closest to you, her fur sticking through the metal frame of the door. she allows you to brush your fingers against it, trembling against your touch while never taking her eyes off of the man beside you.

"we've been here the same amount of time," you confirm. "though only one of us is allowed to come and go," you add with a sad smile, fishing out a piece of bacon from your treat pouch and handing it to her through the bars.

"you ever think about takin' her home?"

"i want to, but i don't have enough space for her." you sigh, slipping her a chunk of cheddar cheese. daisy focuses more on the food than on bakugo, placated for the time being. "and, i need her to at least tolerate men if i want to get her out of this place. i just don't know how." he hums in assent and you don't exchange another word as he follows you out of the building, leaving daisy curled up in her corner.

---

"he's out of his mind."

"is he trying to get himself killed?"

"we're gonna have to put her down if he keeps this up," is the whisper of gossip that snaps you out of your workspace, prompting you to join the crowd at the window.

"what's going on?"

"that pro, dynamight? he's trying to tame that girl of yours," one of your fellow volunteers replies. "took a bag of treats and disappeared into the kennel ten minutes ago." you don't wait to hear another disapproving comment, grabbing a first aid kit and sprinting out to the building where daisy was.

you rush in, expecting to find a mess of blood and volunteer clothes, but the kennel is silent. uncharacteristically silent. he senses you when you enter, turning over his shoulder from his position seated on the floor in front of daisy.

"good, you're here. couldn't find you and all your coworkers were calling me crazy," he informs you as you sit next to him, adrenaline still pumping through your veins. "i wanna help you with her."

"respectfully, i'm not sure how that would-"

"you said she hates men, yeah? but the other day, when you were here with me, she didn't seem to mind if she was getting food in the process. we can use that." you blink at him, stunned at his willingness to train the dog deemed 'untrainable.' because of her size and her teeth, every other volunteer was terrified of even trying to feed daisy. yet, here was a newbie (albeit a very muscular one) wanting to wrestle the goliath in his first week.

"are you sure? it's gonna be a long process and i don't want to interfere with your schedule."

"what do you think sidekicks and interns are for? patrolling and catching random extras isn't good enough anymore," he states, watching daisy watch him through the dog door from the outside portion of her kennel. "i wanna do something that makes a difference."

so, with bakugo's help, you began the process of acclimatizing daisy to men. for the first few days, you would just sit in front of her kennel together for a few minutes and she would be rewarded every time she looked at bakugo without growling. then, you took her out into the yard, and he would gradually get closer as the days went on. soon enough, he could stand a few feet away without daisy so much as glancing at him, too intrigued by the sights and smells around her.

it was time for him to handfeed her.

"you're sure about this? her bite strength could easily tear off a finger," you warn him during the walk to daisy's kennel. you'd become quite the formidable team, working with daisy and efficiently completing tasks together without wasting any time. the kennels were the best they'd ever looked and smelled, and you finally felt like you were helping daisy progress. "i know you literally died and came back to life when you were in high school, but-"

"i can handle anything she throws at me, i promise."

"and you won't get pissed at her?" it was a question that you needed to muster up the courage to ask, one that poked at the back of your mind every time daisy started to frustrate bakugo. he wasn't known for being the most level-headed hero, and you were afraid of an eventual snap where he might lash out on the dog.

"hey," he begins, coming to a stop and facing you. his voice is genuine, his usual scowl replaced with stone-cold determination. "i swear that i'd rather get my heart blown up again or some shit than lay a hand on her."

"everyone says you have anger issues, bakugo. i think i'm well within my rights to be concerned," you point out and he barks out a laugh.

"i have anger issues when it comes to assholes that are purposefully assholes. i know that underneath all that anger, she's just scared," he shrugs. "that doesn't mean someone should give up on her. so, c'mon," he tilts his head in the direction of her building. "our girl's waiting."

one hour and a lifetime of coaxing later, you were sitting in the shade with daisy's head in your lap as bakugo hands her small pieces of hot dog and more cheese. the branches of the tree behind you stretch far above your head, providing shelter from the midday sun and dropping occasional leaves that daisy tried to bite from time to time. you let yourself relax, supervising while daisy continues to let bakugo feed her. every so often, you'll hear him murmur words of praise and encouragement, so soft and out of character that you'd think someone else was speaking them.

you open your eyes after a moment, not realizing that you'd closed them in the peacefulness of it all, and realize daisy is no longer in your lap. instead, she's seated next to bakugo, who lightly brushes the back of his hand against the fur under her chin. to your delight, she nudges his hand with the top of her head, letting him pet her from her eyes to where her collar sat on her neck.

"i think we reached a big accomplishment today," you whisper with a smile.

"all thanks to you," he replies. "if you hadn't believed in her, she wouldn't have been here."

"and if you hadn't have been here, she wouldn't have anyone else who believed she could change." your attention returns to daisy, who has begun sniffing around bakugo's belt in search of the treat pouch.

"oi," he says sternly but playfully. "what do you think you're doing?" for the first time in your history together, you see daisy wag her tail with someone else other than you, and she drops into a play bow in front of bakugo challengingly. "you wanna play, girl? you feel good enough with me that you wanna play?" she barks once, leaping around like a cricket in the grass.

"you heard her," you chuckle and he stands, keeping a respectful distance away from her in case she changed her mind. she doesn't, and begins bounding from one end of the yard to the other as bakugo chases after her. i'm gonna get you, clever girl, he calls after her. but you gotta catch me first, he taunts, running away from her and making her chase after him instead.

---

as with most things, good times could only last for so long.

it'd been six months since you started working with bakugo to help daisy, and a new round of volunteers were coming in for the season. with the new season came new business, and your partner abruptly cut his hours to the point where most of your work with daisy was solo. he'd given you his number on the third day of working together, but you never felt comfortable reaching out to him because you weren't sure if your relationship was at that point. it became a necessity, however, when a nepotism hire decided to undo all the work you'd done with daisy.

you heard the screaming before you registered the stamping of feet filing out of the doors and toward the dog kennels. it wasn't uncommon for a dog to spook a prospective adopter, but your heart sinks when you realize which specific kennel everyone was beginning to surround. by the time you reach daisy, she's already restrained by two large men, eyes wide and saliva dripping from her jowls. she's thrashing against her holders, and begins whining in a panic once she sees you break through the crowd.

"give her to me," you order the two large security guards that you didn't recognize. you vaguely register the idiot new-guy whose hubris told him he could handle the largest dog for an impromptu photoshoot; his arm is dripping red and his thin hair sticks to his pasty face. the guards were probably his, and any longer in their restraint would likely cause trachea damage to the poor girl. "i said, give. her. to. me."

"that dog is dangerous and needs to be put down!" you shoot the man a withering glare and forcibly yank daisy away from the men, holding her shaking body close and backing as far away from the commotion as possible. i know, i know. i've gotcha. it's okay, baby, i've gotcha, you whisper in her ear, tenderly stroking her ears pinned against her head. more men approach, seemingly to take her away, and she snaps in warning at their outstretched hands. you take the opportunity to dash out of the kennels and retreat into the lawn.

swallowing bile and your nerves, you press the call button next to his contact.

"hello?"

"hey, it-it's me from the shelter," you say, trying your best to keep your voice steady. "i-i know it's sudden and you're probably busy..."

"are you two okay? i'm on my way now." you barely hear the sound of him barking out orders and slamming a door, followed by the sound of explosives blasting.

"i-yes, we're okay...i think," you sputter out, the adrenaline in your veins turning to anxiety and leaving you just as shaken as the dog hiding beside you. "she-she bit a new guy. he's a fucking idiot but his parents are big investors in the shelter, so he's trying to get her put down." your voice breaks and you push down a sob, your hand barely able to hold the phone still. "i don't know what to do and they won't listen to me and i don't know how to tell them and-"

"it's okay, sweetheart, just breathe." his voice is calm and collected in stark contrast to the furious sounds of blasting propelling him toward the shelter.

"katsuki, i don't want them to take her away," you whisper helplessly, your eyes following the line of people approaching you in the yard. it's the first time you're addressing bakugo by his first name, and you wish it was under better circumstances. "they're coming to take her away. i don't-i don't want them to take her-"

"i'm here. stay where you are, i'll take care of them," he grunts before you hear the beep beep beep of the phone being hung up. true to his word, he reaches you before your coworkers and the security guards do, hopping a few fences as a shortcut. he slips in front of you like a shield, formidable and intimidating in his hero costume that he didn't have time to change out of.

"mr. bakugo, please stand aside," your boss says, giving you a sympathetic look. "we need to take the dog in for an evaluation."

"and then what?" bakugo's voice is harsh and unforgiving, his scowl unrelenting. "i said," he clarifies when the group in front of him is too shocked to answer, "and then what?"

"psychological evaluation will most likely show that she is unable to be adopted," your boss explains and you catch the muscle in bakugo's jaw clench. "in that case-"

"you're gonna put down a dog that lashed out in self-defense? against an idiot who didn't bother checking that she was male-averse?"

"t-the family is incredibly important to the maintenance of the shelter, and continuing to have the dog would jeopardize our working relationship."

"that's not a fuckin' problem, then, because i'm taking her home," he states. "daisy's comin' with me. end of story." you hear the words of protest climbing out of the group's throats and are quick to back up your partner.

"she's been working with him for half a year now," you interject. "there's no man she trusts more than him. and as the one who's been taking care of her for the time she's been here," you take a needed breath, nodding at bakugo, "there's no one else i trust more, either."

"you can tell the family the dog ran away or something. i'll get her out of your hands and have my legal people clean up your shit." sensing that it's time to go, you give him the leash and daisy nudges her head into his gloved hand. "and if that asshole who disrespected her wants to take away our fucking dog, i'd love to see him try."

"our dog?" you ask quietly, catching his eye as you walk with him out of the shelter complex.

"yeah," he shrugs, his ears turning slightly pinker. "we're a team, aren't we?"

---

"oh, nice. you know that asshole that daisy bit?" you're sprawled out on the living room couch in his apartment, daisy sleeping soundly at your feet. katsuki grunts his assent from the kitchen, muttering a curse as a splash of hot oil prickles his skin. "he and his family are getting investigated for money laundering and exotic animal trafficking."

"serves them fucking right," he replies vindictively. "what about the shelter?"

"coworkers report that they're doing just fine, what with the generous donation from the dynamight agency and all."

"any bigs they're tryna wrangle?"

"not at the moment, no," you say, peeking over the edge of the couch and smiling at daisy's tongue sticking out of her sleepy mouth. "but they promise they'll call us if one arrives."

"that's good. i'm happy with that," he concludes, throwing a potholder onto the coffee table and setting a sizzling pan of something yummy-smelling on top. "how's that look, partner?"

"as good as the one who made it," you flirt, and a smirk pulls at the corner of his mouth. "is the chef single?"

"nope," he remarks with a wink, settling his entire body weight on top of you so that his head rests on your chest. "and i wouldn't want anyone else." daisy pops her head up from the floor and shakes herself, happily licking your boyfriend's face as he squirms away. "okay, okay! you're an important part of my life as well, you silly fuckin' dog."

"you sure she'll be okay at work with you?" your fingers card through katsuki's hair and his eyes flutter shut, relishing in the way your nails feel on his scalp.

"'course she will. she passed the bomb-sniffing test with flying colors. she's smart and she's loyal. she'll do just fine," he reassures you. "and we couldn't have gotten here without you."

"you're the one who practically stole her from the shelter," you remind him teasingly and his laugh reverberates against your ribcage. "daisy," you cautioned as she looks hungrily at the pan of food. "that's not for you. dad'll make you something to eat later. go back to sleep, for now." the dog gives a single woof of reluctant acknowledgement before settling into her plush bed in the corner. "thank you, katsuki."

"you haven't even tried the food yet, you doofus," he mumbles with his eyes shut against your chest.

"i mean thank you for believing in her, doofus."

"duh. it's easy to believe in the people you love."

"people and dogs," you correct.

"mhmm," he smiles, content with the little family you'd helped him form, despite the obstacles. "and dogs."

if you enjoy my writing and would like to support me, you can buy me a coffee on my ko-fi! commissions and nsfw requests can be sent through my fiverr! you can also check out my full masterlist here :)

[iimplicitt]

I WAS ALL OVER HER PT.2 — O.P.

pairings: oscar piastri x reader (romantic/platonic) | lando norris x reader (romantic)

part two of three, link to part one here

summary: lando and y/n relationship is on the rocks. y/n either makes the worst or best decision of her life. oscar is losing it and has a secret habit of street racing? (listen to empathy while he races).

warnings: pining, missed opportunities, cheating (mentioned), cheating towards the end, 18+ smut, jealous!oscar, toxic!lando, mirror sex, fingering + oral (fem receiving), unprotected sex sorta (stay safe), technically a HEA for oscar x yn? bumpy road to get there, though.

word count: 4.9k

dedicated to: @theonottsbxtch

authors note: this in no way speaks on my opinion of lando and what his personality may be like, i love him this is purely for the plot <3

୧‿̩͙ ˖︵ ꕀ⠀ ♱⠀ ꕀ ︵˖ ‿̩͙୨

You stood in the doorway of Lando’s bedroom in his flat in Monaco, sighing as he went through your phone. His eyes scrunched and a scowl on his lips as he held up the phone for you to see. “Who the hell is that?”

Narrowing your eyes to look, it was another comment some stranger left underneath one of your posts, calling you beautiful. The issue, to Lando at least, was that the stranger was a guy. “I don’t know.”

Lando scoffed and pulled your phone back towards him. “Yeah well, he’s also in your DM’s.”

You tried not to roll your eyes, knowing that would only annoy him further. He was weirdly obsessed with any male attention you received, not that you ever entertained it but he always made it seem like you were the one doing something. “And how many girls are in your comments and your DM’s? It’s not like I ever reply, unlike you.”

It wouldn’t have bothered you otherwise, even with Oscar and all the girls reaching out to him it never bothered you, you knew that’s simply how it was with fame. But the fact Lando would actually reply to them made you uncomfortable. He didn’t seem to care as he waved you off again. “I’m just engaging with my fans, what excuse do you have?”

You baulked at him. “I don’t talk to them.”

“I’m sure you just deleted the chats.” He practically threw your phone at you before turning around to go back to his game.

You wished you could say this was the first and last time you had this conversation with him, but it was beginning to feel like a weekly occurrence. You didn’t understand, he even had the audacity to flirt with girls in front of you but would say he was just being friendly. And who were you to question him, anyway?

You felt lost, lonely. Thrown into the world of dating a celebrity who gave no reassurance and it was like everyone you cared about suddenly wasn’t available to talk anymore. Either because of time zones, work, et cetera. And Oscar… you had always felt like he was someone to lean on without feeling like a burden but even now he felt like a stranger.

Events were beyond awkward, he’d mutter a hello before practically running away from you. Anytime you tried to talk to him, there was an excuse to leave. Your daily texts came to a halt besides a Happy Birthday message and a bouquet of flowers that Lando had thrown away before you even had a chance to hold them.

You’d still sometimes catch him staring at you though, and it kept a little flame of hope alive in your heart that he didn’t hate you. That your friendship maybe was salvageable, it just needed time.

At a club following a relatively successful qualifying for McLaren one night, you had just walked away from the bar with a new drink and weaved between the crowd of people. You weren’t sure where Lando was, and part of you said you probably didn’t want to know. Worrying about all the what if’s was going to kill you. Taking a sip of your drink, you decided you wanted a bit of fresh air and moved towards the large balcony the club had. It was still crowded, but not nearly as much and you found a seat at an empty table.

You mostly people-watched for a while, letting the alcohol create a comforting blanket over your nerves when someone sat down across from you.

Oscar was looking at you, eyes a bit bloodshot and his hair a mess as he held a glass of what might’ve been whiskey. Your shock made you sit there stupidly for a moment and stare at him. Surprised he made the first move to initiate some sort of interaction, anxious to talk to him, angry he had been avoiding you, and mad at yourself for not trying harder to fix things.

“Hi.” He said, his voice a bit rough around the edges.

Apparently words were lost on you as you continued to stare at him.

He sighed, his breath shaking as he messed with his glass tumbler. “Are you happy?”

Pursing your lips, you finally pulled your eyes away from him to look at the city skyline. “You’re drunk.”

“You’re not answering.”

“I’m not having this conversation with you, Oscar.” Not when he was intoxicated, at least.

He squeezed his eyes shut for a moment. “Please, I need to- are you happy?”

Dammit, your eyes began to water. Why was he always able to pull such reactions out of you so easily? “You don’t always have to try and save me, Oscar. I’m a grown woman.”

“The most remarkable people in the world still might want help sometimes.”

You looked away from him, biting at the inside of your cheek in a weak attempt to keep your breathing even and wiped a tear away. You missed him, you really did. And maybe this rift was your own doing. You knew you couldn’t blame yourself for Lando’s behaviour but sometimes it felt like everything would’ve been easier, better for Oscar, if you weren’t in the picture. If you had just stayed home and not agreed to come to that first race last season.

Standing up, you offered a tense smile. “I’ll see you at the race tomorrow.” And you walked away.

୧‿̩͙ ˖︵ ꕀ⠀ ♱⠀ ꕀ ︵˖ ‿̩͙୨

Oscar had never truly hated anyone before, but with each passing day he came dangerously close to yanking Lando by the collar of his shirt and punching him. The way his teammate so blatantly flirted with other girls while doing media events was beginning to lose its shock value on Oscar, but his anger just kept reaching a boiling point. Maybe he needed to be more level headed and mature about the whole situation, but knowing how much Lando was disrespecting you started to affect how Oscar raced. It wasn’t a hindrance by any means, but people were starting to notice how much more aggressive he was being on track.

A few days before a race weekend, teams were allowed to go out and walk the track to get a feel for it. Which was necessary on all accounts because the upcoming circuit had recently been resurfaced. Oscar had his hands in his pockets as he walked, paying close attention to the curves and the changes in elevation when a familiar waft of perfume caught his attention. It took him off guard, not expecting to find you out here but there you were, walking with Charles’ girlfriend Alex, who was taking their dog Leo for a stroll.

Your eyes immediately caught his, muttering something to Alex before heading in his direction.

He stood there like a deer caught in headlights as you approached, messing with your nails nervously the closer you got. Finally, stopping a few feet away you gave him a small smile. In an instant it was like all the ice that had built up over his heart the past few months began to melt.

“Walk with me?” You offered, extending an olive branch and he nodded, letting a small smile tug at his own lips as he began to walk again, you by his side.

It was quiet for a little while, the air a bit tense but nowhere near what it had been lately.

“I still don’t understand how you aren’t scared shitless when you get in those cars. The turns are so sharp and you come at them so quickly.” You muttered, gnawing at your lip and he couldn’t help but stare at the soft look of them before he forced himself to look away.

“Over time the fear goes away. There’s a thrill to it, I think. An adrenaline rush. Corners are the best part sometimes.” He offered, looking at you again only to find you already staring at him.

“Is that why you hold on to the door handle for dear life when I drive? For the thrill of it?” You joked and he found himself laughing, forgetting how easy it was.

“I think that’s my body going into fight or flight mode when you’re behind the wheel.”

You shoved him playfully, shaking your head with a grin on your face. The brief physical contact made his head spin and butterflies erupt in his stomach. He desperately wanted to touch you, hug you, something… he didn’t know. “I miss you. This.” The words were out before he could think more on it but he didn’t regret them either.

Coming to a stop in front of Oscar’s garage, you looked up at him and smiled softly. “Me too.”

Your eyes locked onto his, feeling like the world had stopped spinning and it was just the pair of you. Oscar didn’t have to think about anything else as you stood there in front of him. His best friend and the girl he knew had his heart. Slowly, he lifted his hand as your hair got tossed around by the breeze and he brushed it away from your eyes. Taking in the soft feel of your skin and an electric shock went from his fingertips and tore apart each of his nerves.

Pulling away, you turned to go meet your boyfriend and the world started to move again.

He flipped over in his hotel bed, one arm wrapped around your waist as the other found leverage on the mattress. Your soft and shaky breath sent shivers down his body, feeling your soft skin slide against his as he moved down the bed.

“Oscar,” you whimpered out, hands tugging at his hair as desperation began to control your movements. You were so beautiful, no matter where or how he saw you. But there was something akin to holiness as he looked at you spread out on his sheets beneath him. Naked and wanting. Wanting him.

“Relax for me, angel.” He pressed a kiss to your hip before moving down, licking a long stripe up your wet—

He shot up, sweat drenching his skin and a painful erection showing a tent in his sheets. Oscar groaned as reality caught up with him, pressing his palms into his eyes. “What is wrong with me?” He whispered to his empty hotel room, still wishing you could somehow be there next to him.

The sex dreams had always been a common occurrence the moment he realised he liked you. Years of built up sexual frustration and he always felt guilty about them afterward. You were his best friend yet every other night he fantasised about fucking you. The dreams never stopped, even when you were in a relationship. Even when he was in one.

His hands dropped as he stared out the window, depressed and frustrated. “I am awful,” he muttered. But Oscar knew he’d have one again. Part of him didn’t want them to stop, and he’d tell himself he could live with the guilt.

Later that day, maybe it was the lack of sleep or the constant pain of knowing you were with Lando, but when he caught his teammate slipping a girl his number he snapped.

Once they rounded a corner and no one was around, Oscar grabbed onto his shirt and slammed him into the wall, pinning him there with an arm against Lando’s chest. “You are such a joke.” He bit out.

Lando blinked at him in surprise before shaking away his shock, trying to shove Oscar off of him but the Aussie didn’t budge. “What is your problem, mate? Get the hell off me.”

“Does she know you’re out here messing around or do you like rubbing it in her face so blatantly?” Oscar was three seconds away from punching him before Lando shoved him more roughly, finally managing to break free from the wall.

He narrowed his eyes at Oscar before laughing, the sound of it dry and lacking all amusement. “Since when did you start giving a fuck about her again?”

Clenching just jaw, Oscar walked up to his teammate, his own eyes narrowed and his voice low. “Quit playing with her or I’ll run you off the damn track.” With that, he patted Lando’s shoulder once before walking away.

The Dutch Grand Prix was approaching and Oscar felt like he was losing it. You were everywhere. Plaguing his thoughts. In all his dreams. All he could think about. Him and Lando had hit a stand still in their working relationship and the friendship they had built came crumbling down when Oscar realised how much of an arse he truly was to you.

There was a small get together with a decent amount of the drivers and some friends at a townhouse Max had. The grill was now cool from the earlier barbecue and most of the crowd had moved inside as the night air grew chilled and rain was approaching.

Oscar felt suffocated inside the house, though. Everything was too bright and too close. You were everywhere yet nowhere at once and Lando was being a smug bastard, acting like a saint when he was really a devil in disguise. No matter how hard Oscar tried, he couldn’t stop looking at you. Wishing he was Lando and hating himself for it. Wishing he was the one who got to fall asleep next to you at night, knowing he could love you properly. Then Lando disappeared, and so did you and he felt his brain shatter into a million pieces. Knowing it wasn’t him made his chest physically hurt and he stumbled towards the back yard, not being able to breathe until the door was shut behind him and all the voices became muted.

He froze the moment he saw you laying in the grass, staring up at the moon.

“Hey,” you said, hearing his footsteps approach before he laid down next to you. The grass was damp from earlier rain but he didn’t care. You were there next to him, that’s all that mattered.

It was quiet for a while. The only noise was from the house and crickets, sometimes thunder from the distance. His mind was moving quickly, yet sluggishly, and still everything felt strangely clear all the sudden as he star gazed with you.

“Break up with him.”

You were silent, but he heard you take in a sharp breath before you whispered the next word. “What?”

“Break up with him.”

“Oscar—“

Turning to you and perching himself up by his elbow, he continued. “I know I waited too long. I know I didn’t communicate with you. I know I’m an arse for ignoring you. I’m sorry, I am, but— he is horrible to you. You’re not happy, I know you aren’t.”

You looked up at him, still laying down and the moonlight painted a heavenly sight before him as your brows furrowed. “You know it’s not that simple.”

“Why not? I know you don’t love him, and he doesn’t love you—“

You finally sat up, eyes narrowed. “And what? You do? All this time you’ve apparently loved me but would tell me you weren’t interested and would go off dating other girls. What the hell am I supposed to do with that, Oscar?”

He quickly stood up to follow you as you also got up and began to walk away from him.

“Why put yourself through hell for him?” He bit out.

“I have spent years putting myself through hell waiting for you! I can handle him.”

“You shouldn’t have to handle him!”

You whipped around to yell something at him when the back door suddenly opened and Logan stepped out, eyeing the scene wearily. “Am I interrupting something?”

Before Oscar could say anything, you bit out a “Nope,” and stormed past the two drivers, disappearing into the house.

Logan quietly shut the door and raised a brow at Oscar. “Trouble in paradise?”

Oscar fell heavily onto a porch chair and pinched the bridge of his nose. “Something like that.”

Looking at his friend for a moment, Logan sat down across from him. “You know,” he started, “I’ve known you two for a long time and you’ve always seemed to work something out.”

Sighing, Oscar leaned back in the chair and thought about the last few months. Thought about that fateful night a few years ago. Logan must’ve been thinking about it, too.

“I know how messy it was the first time and how much you beat yourself up over it, but it worked out didn't it?”

“Did it?” Oscar asked. “I feel like we just kept pushing off the inevitable and now it’s blown up in my face.”

“Look, I know it sucked but you did the right thing not getting into a relationship with her back then. That would’ve blown up in your face. But now, man, you have the world at your fingertips.” He paused for a moment and rubbed at his chin. “Why’d you invite her in the first place?”

Oscar frowned at him. “What do you mean?”

“Come on. You never invited her to your old races. You knew how busy you’d be once you started in Formula One, you wanted her here.”

He shrugged. “I mean yeah, but—“

“And now Lando is in the way?”

Oscar sighed, “yeah.”

The long time friends looked at each other, not sure whether or not to mention they both knew Lando was cheating on you. Logan caught him with some girl in a hotel bar, Carlos yelled at him a few weeks ago when he caught him with someone, and the list went on.

Oscar had a feeling you knew as well, and he couldn’t wrap his head around why you wouldn’t just leave the bastard.

As if reading his thoughts, Logan spoke again. “She might feel trapped, you know? Despite even the worst circumstances, it’s hard to leave relationships sometimes.”

“When did you get wise?”

Logan laughed and shook his head, standing up to pat his friend on the shoulder. “I always have been. Now, you have two options. One, run after her and try to fix this no matter what or else you’re going to go through the rest of your life wondering what if you had tried harder. Or two, you try to let go of it. Let go of her, and move on.”

Oscar licked at his dry lips and looked down at his hands, noticing the calluses he got from racing. “I can’t forget about her.”

“Then get off your ass and go after her.”

Logan didn’t have to tell him again. He patted the American on the back in thanks and took off into the house, only you were nowhere to be seen.

He caught sight of Charles and pulled him to the side. “Have you seen her?”

His friend looked at him knowingly, the Monegasque had a weird sixth sense on reading people and on more than one occasion he had offered Oscar some friendly advice on the matter of a broken heart. “She left, mate. Not with Lando though, if that helps.”

It did, and if Oscar wasn’t in such a rush he would’ve hugged the man.

He muttered a thanks before grabbing his keys and running out the door. He wasn’t sure where she was, but the first place he would assume is the hotel the McLaren team was staying at.

୧‿̩͙ ˖︵ ꕀ⠀ ♱⠀ ꕀ ︵˖ ‿̩͙୨

You shivered as you walked, your anger at everything beginning to fizzle away. Adrenaline had kept you warm for the most part as you got deeper into the city but now that it was fading you grew a bit nervous. A woman walking alone at night was never the safest or smartest decision.

But you had been so pissed off at Lando and angry that Oscar had been right. Right about everything. Lando was bad news but you were so desperate for attention you let a man start to slowly pick at you in ways he knew would make you crumble. He knew all your insecurities and would point them out to make a statement or if he got bored.

If you would’ve just been smart and waited a bit longer you could’ve been happy with Oscar. But… you had waited for years and you were tired. You knew it wasn’t your fault that he didn’t communicate how he had actually felt about you. That still didn’t solve any of the raging emotions going off inside you.

You heard a car approaching and kept your head down, hoping they would shoot past you. Much to your horror, the car with a strong sounding engine began to slow down. The deep rumble from it made your bones tremble, or maybe that was your fear.

Then a window rolled down and a familiar voice called out. “Get in the car.”

You didn’t know what was wrong with you. You were being irrational, surely. But you kept walking, “go away.”

The car halted to a stop, a door opening and slamming shut and not a moment later Oscar was standing in front of you. Angry. “Get in the fucking car.”

You blinked at him. You knew he swore during races but hardly ever at you. You were about to argue with him, being fueled by pure stubbornness at this point when there was a loud crack of lightning and it began to rain.

“Fine,” you bit out, getting into the expensive car and at that moment you didn’t care if your wet clothes ruined the leather. Oscar didn’t seem to care either as he slammed his door shut.

He started driving once you buckled and you wanted to roll your eyes. He was clearly pissed at you, though you couldn’t fathom why. It wasn’t like you did anything to him. What made it clear he was mad was the increasing speed of the car. He was always careful, always put together. Besides when racing, you weren’t sure you had ever actually seen him speed before.

Although you trusted him with your life, your mouth felt dry as you went around a wide corner, your body being pushed to the side by the force of it. “Oscar—“

“What the hell is wrong with you? Walking out here alone at night in a country you’ve never been in?”

“We both know that’s not why you’re mad right now.”

Oscar laughed, the sound rough on your ears as he whipped around another turn, the tyres losing a bit of traction from the rain but he manoeuvred into a drift and easily corrected the car with a complicated turning of the wheel and doing lord knows what with the gear shift.

This was absolutely not the time to be thinking such things but you couldn’t help but notice how attractive he looked breaking who knows how many traffic laws. Your thoughts only annoyed you though, not understanding why you had to like him. Not understanding why you let yourself get into the current position you were now in. Not understanding why you let Lando treat you like shit.

“So your driving isn’t any better off the track, either.” The cruel words slipped out on their own accord. You didn’t mean it. Maybe it was Lando rubbing off on you, maybe you were just making excuses.

Oscar didn’t say anything, his knuckles turned white on the steering and sped up, going well over the speed limit now and drifting, the back of the car swinging much too close to poles and buildings. It was reckless yet controlled all at once. Maybe this was his outlet. He wasn’t a big drinker, obviously didn’t dabble in drugs, he wasn’t violent, and a Formula One car was worth millions of dollars and too risky to take frustrations out on. Maybe he did this often, maybe that’s why he did it with expert precision as he raced through the streets of Zandvoort.

You didn’t know why, but when police sirens and flashing lights started to follow the car, you laughed. It was strangely liberating, watching Oscar let go of everything for once and for you to let go of fear.

Your eyes met his, red and blue lights gleaming off them and you two shared a smile before he raced off, evading law enforcement with a surprising ease and you wondered what other surprises Oscar still had in store for you after all these years.

He pulled into a dark alleyway between two buildings, quickly shutting the car off and turning out the lights. He lightly placed a hand on your back and pushed you down so you both weren’t in view from the back window. A few seconds later the police whipped by, neither of you moved till the sirens faded.

You were quiet for a minute, the only sound was your heavy breathing mixed with Oscar’s and you could just barely catch the gleam of his eyes in the dark as he looked at you. Sitting up, you messed with the hem of your shirt, a cold wave of reality hitting you. This felt like some sort of event horizon. Whatever happened in this car would determine if and how he’ll be in your life.

“Oscar,” you started quietly. He sat up as well, looking at you in the dark and hummed, patient. “Please tell me this all isn’t because I’m now something you feel like you can’t have.” The words were out, one of your biggest fears. Insecurities. Terrified he was only interested because suddenly you weren’t an option anymore. An option he’d always had.

“Angel, there was never anyone else.” His voice was so quiet you barely heard him, or maybe your heart was beating too loudly over his words. “I’m done for.”

You sucked in a breath, forgetting how to breathe as you looked at him. Your best friend. The man you’ve been in love with for years. The way he was looking at you, it wasn’t any different than how he usually did. You had just apparently been naïve to the sheer desperation in it.

“Oscar—“

His lips crashed against yours, your back hitting the door and his hands cupped your face, holding him to you.

You froze, only for a moment as your stomach dropped from the surprise. Then it came rushing back up to you and your fingers buried themselves in his hair, kissing him back with such ferocity you weren’t aware you were capable of.

One of his hands held the nape of your neck while his other hand quickly undid your seat belt, wrapping his arm around your waist to pull you closer to him. He was so warm, soft yet rough at the same time and he tasted like heaven. As his tongue slid past your lips, dancing against yours you let out a moan that had him trembling against you.

Years. You had waited years to kiss him. You’ve dreamt about it. God, you even cried about it a couple of times. The pure longing you had been harbouring all this time had reached criticality and now you were just about to explode. His hands were all over you, exploring every inch as if he was a crazed man who found the holy grail and couldn’t quite believe it.

His tongue explored the inside of your mouth, hot and wet and he was practically breathing you in. Your nails raked through his hair, wanting so much more it felt maddening.

His teeth tugged at your bottom lip as he pulled away, his eyes heavy lidded and before you could utter a complaint his mouth latched onto your neck, just below your jaw. The sound that left your mouth was embarrassing but he seemed to love it, a moan leaving his mouth and vibrating through you as he left a wet trail of open mouth kisses down your throat, sucking and biting as he went.

You tugged on his hair, a whimper leaving his mouth but it was swallowed up by your mouth as you kissed him again. With one hand snaking up underneath your shirt, his other hand grabbed your wrist and placed it on—

Your brain short circuited by how hard his cock was. Not only that, but you were touching him. There. You could faint.

“Angel, please.” It was practically a whine as he kept kissing you, his hips pushing up into your hand. As if the sounds leaving his mouth commanded you, you squeezed his erection through his pants.

Oscar shuddered violently, his head falling into the crook of your neck. “Fuck.”

“Oscar.” You sounded needy. You didn’t care. And for a whole list of fucked up reasons, you didn’t care that you had a boyfriend.

୧‿̩͙ ˖︵ ꕀ⠀ ♱⠀ ꕀ ︵˖ ‿̩͙୨

landonorris

liked by carlossainz55, f1, maxverstappen1 and 1,926,378 others

landonorris yup 🏆 more like it

*tap to load more comments*

userone: LESGOOOOO

usertwo: twowinssss

userthree: anyone notice how tense lando & oscar were?

| userfour: yea… and landos gf. super weird

| userfive: neither of them liked this either

usersix: y’all see those dm’s some girl leaked???

| userseven: YEAAA lando has been lurkinggg

| usereight: embarrassing honestly

usernine: y’all see that video of oscar drifting through the city? wild

| userten: I KNOWWW it was sick. didn’t know he was like that

| usereleven: who do you think the girl was in the passenger seat?

usertweleve: MORE DM’S GOT LEAKED

userthirteen: lando is quite literally for the streets

userfourteen: is this why oscar has been racing dirtier? his teammate fucks over his best friend? yikes

comments have been disabled

part three found here

[pro-sipper]

Had such a fun conversation with my therapist today. Honestly I'd been wanting to bring up the whole pro/anti debacle with her just to see what she'd say and how it would stack up against what proshippers and antishippers have to say about therapy online. No points for correctly guessing which side she agreed with

I talked about my job for about 3/5ths of the time there, then segued into The Discourse by telling her about how I'd been writing daily during the first two weeks of my new job, but hadn't been as active lately

And I even asked her if she had any other chronically online clients she talked to and she reassured me that she had plenty, and even one who had kind of explained this whole debate to her before (from a proshipper stance, and how she lost a friend over it)

I explained my whole issue with her about how fandom is so deep into purity culture these days. And how reckless and raunchy it was in the 00s and how I don't want to go back to that, but there's got to be some middle ground somewhere.

I told her about some of the stuff I've written and all the weird or nasty comments I've gotten on it and how that can be discouraging. And I told her that most of my works are smut, and of those smut works, all of them have at least a little sprinkling of trauma in them. And she said that can be a good way to look at things. And used a real life example of how something could be awful but there could be good things about it too. Specifically saying that nothing is just black and white, everything has shades of grey. And that digging the little good out of the big bad is a positive thing, actually

And I told her about being a young teen and reading a fic with incest in it and having the sense not to immediately jump to "I want to recreate this in real life" and she was like "Yes, exactly. It's like this one book I read, umm..." and I was like "Flowers In The Attic?" just as a guess and she was like "Yes!" and said just because you read about something doesn't mean you want it to be your reality

And I did my best to explain the whole concept of how some people seem to think that everyone engages with fiction by putting themselves in the shoes of the main character, so if the main character is doing awful things then you must want to do awful things too. Which of course she said was in no way true

And she told me that she was such a big fan of horror movies and loved to watch those as a way to relax and unwind bc it gets her mind off her work, but that doesn't mean she wants to be a killer lol. And I had to be like "Oh no you don't understand. They think killing and torture and cannibalism is totally fine, it's just when you bring sex into the equation that people start freaking out" and she was confused at that lol

And of course she thought it was ridiculous that people can get called a pedo or a groomer or whatever other awful things over fictional stories.

So yeah it was a fun and reassuring conversation. I know I'm leaving some stuff out but I can't remember any more specifics of what was said. Plus I was talking a mile a minute bc I wanted to say everything on my mind before time was up asfdsfs it was a monumental task.

OH and I even brought up how people will literally say "well my therapist said..." just for some other people to accuse them of lying or saying their therapist is corrupt or some other bullshit which she was understandably aghast at. Because she is a licensed therapist who went to Therapy School and knows better, and is not a magical villain promoting propaganda fed to her by Big Proship to corrupt her clients. You know how it is <3

[onestepbackwards]

Love That Bites Pt. 14

This took. So long. I'm so sorry OTL But!!! It's done! I hope you all enjoy it! This chapter was suppose to be around 3000 words. It ended up being twice as long. Oops haha. I hope you all like this chapter though! Hopefully the next one won't take near as long (❁´◡`❁)

Summary: It was finally time for you to head home, but it seems Dracula wants to at least make sure you are healthy and safe before you go. A shame after you leave all your anxieties seem to hit you all at once...

CW: Anxiety attacks, slight mental breakdown, mentions of abusive relatives, brief mentions of injury, blossoming feelings

Word Count: 6384 Words!

Like this story? Please consider checking me out here! Likes, comments, and reblogs appreciated! (´▽`ʃ♡ƪ)

Taglist: @sisterofsin29 @str4wbang3l @nikkilovemark @ms-bakugo-blog @kittenlover614 @simpytheshrimpy69 @midgetdemon17 @just-nother-dreamer @adrakeshoard @tilldeathripsusapart @thedeadlynights @pumpkinvampie @bethleeham @mshope16 @sixsixtwenty @haleypearce @rvautomatic @tinystarfishgalaxy @marshmelloe @maorizon @ursamajor17 @sapphicsfordracula @dame-sunflowers @sleepyendymion @starrlo0ver @onewiththebeanbag

The @ 's are acting funky, so please lemme know if they work, or if i forgot anyone! Tumblr is not wanting to work properly as i finish this >:(

First: Here

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You were beginning to wonder if your life was a party, and you were the piñata.

In the span of less than a literal week, you had your shit kicked in since you couldn’t just fight off your step family, and accidentally revived an ancient ‘evil’ vampire that was your family’s immortal enemy.

Said immortal enemy then has tended to your health, Death threatened you, and now you somehow, by some stroke of luck, have convinced Dracula not to destroy all of humanity.

It… confused you.

Perhaps this really was a dream? Maybe you were actually still bleeding out on the floor of the castle or your bedroom?

By all means, you expected to possibly be dead after Dracula mentioned wanting to talk. You were in a way, ready to accept such a fate.

But his willingness to hear you out, and perhaps try not to kill people threw you for a loop.

A big loop.

One that had you questioning a lot, if you were being honest with yourself.

Had it always been that easy? Or were you genuinely just a special case? He did say he found you in particular fascinating.

One of your hands came up to rub your face as you felt your cheeks warm at the thought.

…Why did you have to find that kinda hot? Whatever, that wasn’t the point-

To be fair, given that the situation leading up to this point had already been weird and unusual, presumably even by your family’s standards. You doubted any of them would have had picnics with Dracula’s statue and run to his castle while critically injured.

But… you honestly couldn’t believe it was real. Dracula actually agreed not to try to destroy humanity. Somewhat.

Of course, that was his word alone, but…

…When you shook his hand, you couldn’t help but feel as if you had made a deal with the devil itself.

It was as if a part of you had a feeling deep in your chest that he would abide by the terms you both set.

But if you were being honest with yourself… you didn’t know if you could believe this. That the fact you even got him to agree was real.

You spent so much time worrying about it. Even before you ever found his statue, you had nightmares and days worrying about how you would handle Dracula if you had to confront him.

Was it all some plot? Some plan to make it hurt after betraying you?

Those pesky thoughts lingered, but you found it hard to believe them. Despite how often they popped up in your head, it was easy to counter them.

After all, why keep the Belmont alive after being slain so many times?

There were multiple opportunities to hurt you, kill you, torture you. Hell, if he wanted you as a prisoner, he didn’t have to give you such a lavish guest room.

Perhaps it was the fact everything you had been raised to believe at this point was now being called into question? After all, with everything happening, it felt like your world was spinning at a thousand miles an hour.

A part of you was probably also in shock.

Sure, your life has been hell up to this point, but it had a normalcy to it. You could expect to deal with dumb shit at home, and to fight evil monsters that were some of the worst of their kind when you did get to hunt.

It wasn’t fun, but it was normal.

This though? All the things you had happening to you?

Not normal at all, and it was hard to think.

Or maybe a bit too easy to do so.

It was as if a flood of thoughts swam in your mind, yet it was hard to comprehend so many of them.

“...At least the bed is comfy.” you mumbled, staring into the ceiling as you tried to calm your nerves. You still hadn’t completely calmed down since Dracula had talked to you.

Dracula had left not too long ago after you reached a… stable compromise?

He had said something about needing to check on some things, and to prepare to tell everyone about the deal you both came to.

You wondered just how much chaos that would stir.

A part of you felt a bit guilty. No doubt Dracula would have a lot of anger to deal with from some of his servants and the like. Many were already on edge with you just staying here, so you imagined the news wouldn’t go down without some outcry.

It was no secret many followed Dracula for his power, but it was also a well known fact many followed him because they hated humans. Hated hunters.

Though you doubted any public outbursts would be tolerated. Dracula no doubt would handle everything. You hoped.

If you were being honest though, a small part of you wanted to see the reaction on some of his servant’s faces. You bet some of the jaw dropping looks would be one to remember for years to come.

Unfortunately, you probably wouldn’t even be here to witness it.

Even if by some miracle you managed to possibly hold off the destruction of the world, you still had to deal with your step family, after all. Jason was already making your step brothers inquire about you, which was never a good sign.

You were lucky they backed off this long, and would probably give you a little longer before growing too restless.

After all, you did give them a bit of an ass kicking. Even if it was at the cost of your own health and mental well being, it was a long time coming.

That, and you doubted you would get such an opportunity so soon in the future. Best enjoy it before heading back and become their punching bag once again.

At least you probably wouldn’t have to worry about them trying to jump you like that any time soon. The fact they seemed to almost intentionally try and fatally injure you… it settled uncomfortably in your core.

Given you were willing to actually defend yourself for once, perhaps they won’t attempt something stupid like that again.

Despite that, you didn’t want to get your hopes up, either. Even if you showed you wouldn’t take a beating to that degree without fighting back, that didn’t mean they wouldn’t get creative with it for a possible next time.

Still, that didn’t change the fact you still had to go home. Sooner rather than later.

But… you’d be back. Hopefully.

That was one of the conditions Dracula asked for. He wanted you to come back. He wanted to see you again.

You tried not to think too deep about it. Surely, it was both to help keep the compromise in place, and to learn more about the current century, and all he had missed?

A part of you though couldn’t help but… daydream about the idea of him just wanting to see you. For you.

He said he found you fascinating, after all. But again, a part of you didn’t want to think too hard about it.

For all you knew, his version of ‘fascinating’ was simply seeing you as some sort of entertaining bug or something. Should you become a pest, all he had to do was squish you with his shoe.

…You didn’t want to believe that either, though. Not with how those ruby red eyes looked at you when he first was freed. How he asked who had hurt you.

The very thought of that moment had your heart racing again.

“Am I really that emotionally starved?” you mumbled to yourself once again. That question had been popping in your mind the more you thought about it, and how just one man/vampire made you flustered like a teenager having a crush.

When was the last time anyone had looked you in the eyes while injured, and asked who had hurt you? Then took care of you?

You hated to admit it, but Dracula had charm that a lot of people didn’t have nowadays. Or at least from most people you have met up to this point.

No doubt he had to have had it in order to be considered the King of the Night. You don’t just get that without some sort of charisma, you’d think.

…A part of you was going to miss it. You really had to return home, which is why you were dreading sleep.

Tomorrow you would head home. You would be back here, of course. A part of the agreement, after all.

But you didn’t want to go, almost like a small child not wanting to go to school.

“Ugh.”

Your chest pinged with anxiety every time you closed your eyes. It was hard to even relax enough just to rest.

–

By the time you felt your phone buzzing with an alarm to wake you up, you had nothing to show for what you ‘slept’, except for a migraine and a brewing anxiety attack.

Eyes heavy, you sat up in bed. A bed you were very much going to miss.

Even now, as you shuffled out of bed towards your bag, you could already feel yourself yearning to stay. Like a child who felt unwell and wanted to skip school, except 20x worse.

Grabbing your bag, you quickly went through the stuff you had, making sure everything was still here.

You trusted Dracula just fine with your bag, but you didn’t trust any other entity in this castle to not try and pull a fast one on you.

As much as it felt like some sort of Looney Tunes plot, you weren’t gonna put it past some disgruntled monster or entity to put a stick of dynamite in your bag or something hoping to blow you up.

Thankfully, you didn’t have much on you to begin with, but it didn’t hurt to be sure.

Tossing your bag to the side, you ran a hand over your face, trying to soothe your head and anxieties.

However, you nearly jumped when you heard a specific knock on the door. That same one you had grown familiar with.

Just how had Dracula known you were awake? Was he just guessing, or did he know? Did the castle tell him?

…Or perhaps he heard you thumping around. That was also possible. You decided not to think too much on it at the moment.

“Come in.”

The doorknob turned, before the door was pushed open, revealing Dracula himself.

He entered your room, giving you a polite nod before closing the door behind him, and walking up to the bed. Much like before, he pulled a chair close and sat in front of you.

A part of you wondered if he was doing that to seem more on an equal level as you, though you didn’t dare ask or point it out.

Getting comfortable, Dracula’s eyes seemed to see through you as he settled. Those ruby red eyes practically pierced you, and he didn’t even have to say a word for you to feel a bit small.

Yet, his words next were so gentle.

“How are you feeling?”

Despite it all, a small smile appeared on your face at his question. Your eyes dropped, and you looked over to the side.

“I’ll live. Head kinda hurts, and I didn’t sleep too well. A me issue, don’t worry.”

A flicker of a frown appeared on his face, before his face cooled back to a more neutral look.

“I see. What about your wounds? Any irritation? Are the stitches still holding up?”

You tried to ignore the warm feeling bubbling in your chest again at his concern, despite how hard it seemed to persist.

“They are healing nicely. I only feel a dull ache now compared to the pain I was in a few days ago.”

It was true. You barely felt your wounds compared to how you felt when you arrived. Dracula had done a lot to help them heal, going farther than most people have for you.

Dracula though, looked over your body, his eyes lingering where your wounds lay.

“May I see? I would like to check on them myself.”

Blinking, you leaned back onto the bed slightly, not too surprised.

“Yeah, sure. Here-”

Immediately, he was up from his chair, gently hovering over you from a slight distance. Far enough away to still give you some personal space, yet close enough to check over you.

He was quick, yet still just as gentle. It didn’t take much for him to remove your bandages, and look over your healing injuries, making sure to look over them thoroughly.

You hoped he didn’t think anything of the goosebumps showing up on your skin whenever his hands or nails briefly brushed against your skin. Hopefully he would assume you were chilled from the air, or were reacting to how cool his own skin was.

Another part of you hoped that thinking didn’t seem too pathetic.

And in an even deeper part of your mind… a part of you wondered what he would do if he did think you liked his touch. That was a part of your mind you tried not to linger on too much while Dracula’s face was less than a foot away from your own.

Dracula hummed a bit as he checked over your worst injuries, as well as your head injury. You may not have known him long, but you could assume he seemed pleased with your progress.

Most of your wounds had mostly healed up into scabs, instead of raw and fresh ripped flesh. Something that no doubt would have taken at least two weeks on its own without the help of the few potions Dracula has been giving you.

It would still take some time for them to completely heal, but you were no longer at a huge risk of infection, or had to stay in bed to heal.

Truly, you owed Dracula a great debt. Another thing you were… feeling odd about.

Before you could dwell too much on it though, Dracula was carefully placing your bandages back on.

“Good. They are healing quickly. I’m pleased with your progress.”

You gave him a smile as he sat back down, trying not to soak in his words too much. You were happy he was happy with your healing! A totally normal thing to want and achieve!

While you were trying to mentally downplay the buzz in your head from his ‘praise’, Dracula’s eyes looked over to your bag, which sat innocently on the bed next to you.

“Ah, were you still planning on returning to your home today?” he suddenly asked, bringing you out of your thoughts.

Trying to keep your anxiety about the mere thought of your ‘home’ in check, you nodded.

“Yeah, if I am away too long, it could cause some issues. It’s best if I leave today.”

Dracula leaned against his hand, his other on thrumming against the arm of the chair. You wondered if that was something he did often.

“And you’ll return?”

You nodded quickly.

“Of course. We agreed on that, right? Though…” you began, your hands playing with your shirt, “...It may take me a few weeks to a month to come back, but I will be back.”

Giving you a look, Dracula’s expression turned almost teasing.

“I would hope so, I would hate to have to hunt you down myself, Little Belmont.”

His tone was clearly joking in nature, with his lips curling into a grin that showed off his fangs.

You chuckled a bit, rubbing the back of your neck. However, the way he said it had heat rushing to your face.

God, why did you like the sound of that? Why? Why did your brain like it so much? You swear there had to be a deity out there who found your suffering hilarious.

You didn’t think you would be finding so much stuff about yourself when you arrived here a few days ago. Apparently you had interesting tastes, and were into things you hadn’t even considered before now.

No doubt you would be unpacking a lot of that later, possibly in the middle of a mental breakdown. It was too soon to tell.

Coughing a bit to try and stop those thoughts, you looked back at Dracula.

“Regardless, I will try to be here next month. I should be healed by then too…” You spoke, mumbling that last bit. Dracula gave you an odd look, and you had a feeling he wasn’t too sure of that, just as you were.

Sighing, Dracula then stood up, and much to your surprise, held a hand out to you. You stared at it for a moment, before looking back at his face as he began to speak.

“Well, are you ready to leave? If so, I shall escort you out myself.”

Your eyes flickered to his hand, which was still outstretched to you. After a moment, you took it.

“Trying to get rid of me so soon?” you joked, ignoring how your smaller, warmer hand easily slid into his larger, cooler one.

Dracula’s lips twitched upward as his hand gently curled around your own.

“Maybe I am? Someone has to get rid of the ‘Scary Vampire Hunter’ apparently haunting my castle.”

His words were pure jest, and that had the small smile on your face widening as he gently pulled you up to your feet.

“Can you walk?” He then asked, still clearly worried over you leaving so soon. You managed to stand on your feet without too much issue, and looked back up at him.

“Eh, I’m still a bit sore, but I can walk. I’ll be fine.”

It still actually hurt quite a bit, but hey, you have had worse.

Dracula also didn’t seem very convinced, but at this point, who was he to argue with you when you wished to leave?

Regardless, you were still a bit surprised to see him offer an arm to you after you managed to gain your balance.

“May I?”

Seeing Dracula offer his arm to you did not help the blossoming feelings in your chest. Why did the man who was humanity’s greatest enemy have to be such a gentleman??

Your face was hot, and you prayed to whatever god was listening that your blush wasn’t too noticeable.

“S-Sure.” You spoke, mentally hitting yourself with a hammer for stuttering.

Slowly, you reached out, nearly hesitating as your hand neared his arm. Gathering your resolve, you gently wrapped your own arm around his own.

He wasn’t as cold as you expected, despite him wearing a long sleeved shirt. Though it was hard for you to think as you registered just how big he was as you felt his muscles underneath said shirt.

Then, you nearly jumped when your bag was suddenly hovering in front of your face. You had nearly forgotten it on the bed behind you. Carefully, you grabbed it with your free hand with a quiet ‘thank you’.

“It is no issue at all. Shall we?” He spoke, looking down at you.

Oh stars, how he made you feel small.

“Yes.”

With that, he gently walked to the door, opening it with a flick of his wrist, and leading you out into the hall.

His pace was most likely slow for himself, given you were positive his stride easily would outdo yours. However, Dracula took his time so you could easily keep up.

You found you didn’t particularly mind. If anything, it gave you the perfect opportunity to admire the decor of his castle.

Castlevania had been described in many different ways from the journals you had read. Some said horrifying and confusing, while others spoke of it as if it were gorgeous, yet almost fake feeling.

You found yourself mentally describing it as hauntingly beautiful.

Just the hall outside your room was nothing less than extravagant. Dark red curtains hung above the giant windows that seemed to lead to a courtyard, while painting after painting adorned the walls between each window.

Each painting was unfamiliar to you, but they still astounded you all the same.

Dracula noticed your awe, and his lips curled into a smile.

“The castle, being connected to me, usually inherits my tastes. Though I’ve noticed it has a fondness for decorating on its own, and even has preferences. For instance…”

He paused in front of one of the massive windows overlooking a garden.

“The gardens always look a bit different, but it is fond of giant fountains. Nearly every iteration has one without my interference, though it is pleasing to see.”

You tried not to giggle at that. The thought of a sentient castle being fond of giant fountains and having decoration preferences was so silly, yet given what you were looking at, was very possible.

Dracula and you didn’t linger long at the window, but after that, Dracula almost enthusiastically pointed out different decorations and what some of them meant to him.

It was little things, such as his tastes in candelabras, or the story behind every other painting. Apparently there were many immortals who dabbled in the arts.

You wouldn’t lie. Walking through his castle was very… surreal.

This was a place you were supposed to storm through. A place you were supposed to look at with disgust and revulsion.

Yet, you were fascinated, despite being on edge.

Only one of your ancestors remarked on the beauty the castle had. Juste, you think was his name.

Juste had written how the castle had a strange charm to it, among all the horrors he saw. Apparently he had an eye for detail and decor, and briefly wrote about how he had found it fascinating before destroying Dracula’s wraith, thus destroying the castle.

You could kind of see what he meant now that you were seeing it first hand, even if it was most likely incredibly different than when your ancestor had run through here.

It didn’t take as long as you thought to get to the entrance hall, which was covered with a lush red carpet, and filled with different displays and extravagant furniture.

A part of you wondered if this was what some castles were like hundreds of years ago, just with a more modern touch. Maybe he’d tell you one day?

After all, you agreed to come back. You’d hopefully have plenty of opportunities for questions.

One thing though you did notice walking through the entry hall, was the uptick of monsters.

There were suits of armor you passed, where you could sense enchantments on them, each standing at attention.

That, and maids were here and there, cleaning or tidying up. You could tell most weren’t human just by looking at them, but that was none of your concern. At least not at the moment, so long as they didn’t attack you.

They kept their distance, but you felt all their stares. Some looked at you curious, before averting their eyes. While others gave you cold smiles. You suppose you didn’t blame them.

Ignoring their looks, you felt your heart pound in your chest the closer you got to the massive door.

It looked different.

Instead of a worn down door that looked as if it had been left to rot, was a magnificent massive door that looked warm and taken care of.

And imposing. Very imposing.

Then again, that was most likely the point, even if you were looking at it from the inside. You could only wonder how it looked outside…

You didn’t have to wonder long. The moment you both approached the giant door, it opened completely on its own, as if the castle itself was opening the door for its master.

Despite having been around Dracula a little bit, his impressive feats of magic and mastery over the castle still seemed to awe you.

A part of you also wondered if he was doing that on purpose to show off. You wouldn’t be surprised with how he would occasionally look at you after doing something with magic.

Magic itself wasn’t new to you, but all that he could do? Especially when it wasn’t combat related? It was a bit impressive, you’d admit it.

As he walked you through the large doorway, you noticed the courtyard between the entrance and the gate had also changed. What was overgrown, wild shrubbery and trees was now a full garden. The plants seemed alive, but in a way that was almost… unreal.

He guided you through the courtyard, his arm still entwined with your own.

It didn’t take long before you were at the gate, and he came to a stop. Looking down at you, he posed a question that had your heart thrum in your chest.

“Is this fine, or do you require assistance to your cabin?”

His question caught you off guard slightly. You hadn’t anticipated him asking, nor had you thought that far.

“N-No, I’ll be alright. Thank you.”

A part of you really really wanted to say yes, so this moment lasted a while longer. So you didn’t have to say farewell.

But the rational part of you screamed no. Even if you somewhat trusted this man, were you ready to let him know about your cabin? How to approach it? What if you both were followed? Did you want anyone possibly seeing any weaknesses in your defenses?

No, the hunter in your brain won out. You couldn’t risk anyone finding your defenses, or rummaging through the one sanctuary you had.

You just hoped Dracula wouldn’t take it personally if he or one of his underlings investigated your cabin and exploded or something from one of the traps or wards.

Dracula meanwhile gave you a long look. If you didn’t know any better, you’d even say it was disappointment you saw in those ruby colored eyes of his. With a sigh, he gently let your arm go from his own, turning to face you properly.

“Very well. I shall await your inevitable return. Do not keep me waiting too long, Little Belmont.”

You already missed him. How?

Slowly, you nodded your head.

“Of course. Um…”

A part of you felt so awkward already.

“See you soon?”

Mentally, you were smacking your head against the wall. Did you really just tell the Lord of Darkness ‘see you soon’? You wanted to explode.

However, most of your embarrassment almost melted completely away when he gave you a small smile.

“Indeed. See you soon.”

You stared at him for a moment, you both seemingly unable to look away. It wasn’t until a rumble of thunder broke your gaze away, and you stared at the long walk at the edge of the lake you would have to trek.

With a sigh, you turned, and began to walk.

Already, you were regretting not taking him up on his offer. But it had to be done this way.

RIght?

Your heart was heavy in your chest as you pushed forward with every step. You couldn’t even muster up the courage to look back as you crossed the edge of the lake towards the forest.

At least, you couldn’t until you reached the edge of the clearing.

Already you were tired, but you couldn’t help but finally look back behind you. Back towards Dracula’s castle.

Your eyes widened when you did.

The castle, something that should have horrified you, was gorgeous surrounded by clouds and the forest. Its image even seemed to eerily reflect back at the lake despite the clouds above.

And Dracula remained in front of it, watching you.

It was hard to see from so far away, but you could just barely make out his cloak spiraling out behind him in the wind. He was watching you leave.

Was it to make sure you were really fine? Was it genuine concern? Why else would he watch over you while you left?

…Did he actually enjoy your company? Did he already miss it?

It took more effort than you would like to admit to swallow down the warmth bubbling in your chest.

How silly.

No need to get your hopes up. You hoped that at least a few days away from this place might clear your head. Surely that’ll make these confusing feelings go away. Right? Right?

You just hoped this wouldn’t mess up how you perceived your cabin… You already came to terms with your sanctuary being next to an empty castle. Now it is alive, and its king has an interest in you and your motivations.

With a sigh, and one last long look at the castle (and its owner out front), you turned back to the woods.

Each step back was heavy, and you felt as if you were in a daze. If it weren’t for the fact you had been bewitched before and knew how it felt, you would have wondered if you had been enthralled by some sort of spell.

At least you were self aware enough to walk back to your peaceful abode with caution.

You checked your traps as you went, watching your step as you did so. Thankfully, most were undisturbed except for one or two traps. Those you suspect were simply disturbed by animals rather than monsters looking for a meal.

Well, you at least hoped that was the case. You didn’t sense any paranormal residue of any sort, but that wasn’t a guarantee…

Still, you took enough time to go over most you came across, and as your cabin came into view, you checked around the building.

It was tiring, but quick with how your mind was still a buzz. At least nothing seemed out of place.

Just… a few blood stains from when you were here last and critically injured. Oops.

You sighed, debating if you should leave it as a problem for future you. Not like this place and your home were lacking in blood stains if you looked hard enough. What were a few more?

Still, you didn’t just want to leave it there, so you at least cleaned it up a little bit so you wouldn’t come back to a gross smell. Well, at least a worse smell, anyway. The blood didn’t do your cabin any favors, but hey, it could be worse.

You’d clean it properly and make it spotless when you came back. Eventually. Hopefully. Maybe.

Whatever.

It didn’t take long, but it was clear what you were doing. Trying to keep yourself distracted while in this fog. Trying to buy time before you head home. Buying time before the reality of everything that had happened hit you.

You didn’t get as much time as you would have liked.

Thankfully, since everything else in your cabin was untouched after a quick sweep, you didn’t take much longer to leave said cabin. Even if you wanted more time, it was a weight off your shoulders that you didn’t have to worry about anything being… tampered with.

All you had to do was toss your bag in your car, set your whip aside, and drive off.

Should you be driving while in such a state? No, but you didn’t exactly have the luxury of keeping your home waiting much longer.

The drive itself wasn’t long, or at least, it didn’t feel like it. With each mile, the clouds began to part, and the sun began to shine. It was almost insane how much reach the castle had in terms of weather.

Or was it Dracula’s influence? You wondered if he’d tell you if you asked next time you saw him.

Next time. Right.

Your grip on the wheel tightened, and you could feel your anxiety peaking as you drove further from the cabin. From the castle. Only to grow closer to your home.

…Would they all be there? Your step family?

Dread was already pooling in your gut as you imagined them waiting for you at home. Would they be extra pissed? Would they do something reckless?

With the shit they pulled last time… You weren’t so sure you would be safe. Even if you scared them a bit, you feared you only pissed them off more. If they were willing to fatally injure you so blatantly in ‘training’...

You feared what they might do since they didn’t succeed, and you couldn’t do a thing about it until they acted.

Sweat began to form on your temple as your heart uncomfortably began to beat faster. You felt ill. Felt like you were cornered by a pack of werewolves who were starved for a meal, and you weren’t even at your house yet.

Yet as your city came into view, you felt worse.

Would they scream at you? Yell at you? Call you worthless?

Or would Jason lash out, and finally attack you? You knew he had been holding himself back, but after last time…

What about your home? Was it in good condition? Or did they start destroying things? You wouldn’t be surprised if your room was destroyed.

Worse… would they kick you out?

You had no real legal standing if they kicked you out. All your family’s artifacts, weapons, and history… gone.

They would never give it back to you, or any of your living family members across the globe. No doubt they would simply will everything to themselves if anything happened to one of them.

Why did your mother leave everything to them?

It wasn’t fair.

You were beginning to feel even worse thinking about it.

Still, you forced yourself to swallow what felt like bile rising from your throat as you pulled onto your street outside of the city. Getting sick wouldn’t solve any of your problems, and would most likely make things worse.

But you could barely fight the rising panic as your family home came into view.

It was never so daunting and imposing before now. A place filled with light in your childhood now brought you nothing but terror and anxiety just looking at it as you drove closer.

As you pulled into your driveway though, you paused, and stopped your car.

No cars were outside.

No cars were outside.

No cars in the driveway or out front, and if you were lucky, not in the garage either. But at least your step brothers were gone.

The way your body practically sagged in relief. Even if somehow Jason was home, that was better than having to confront all three at the same time after getting back right away.

Taking a deep breath, you turned off the engine, and climbed out of the car. You only grabbed your bag, keeping anything else locked inside.

It took a few moments to gather your courage, before you slowly unlocked and opened the front door.

You waited a few moments, holding your breath as each tense moment passed.

Nothing.

It was dark, and you heard all the familiar creaks, but no footsteps. No sounds of a TV. No talking in the distance.

Carefully, you stepped inside, and quietly closed the door behind you.

There was still nothing.

Were you truly home alone?

A part of you wanted to relax, but the hunter in you stayed alert. With silent footsteps, you headed to the garage just to be safe. There was no one on the way there, and when you opened the garage door?

Nothing.

Closing it, you laid your back against the door, hand over your heart as you tried to calm down.

You were actually home alone for once.

Did they have a hunt? Need supplies and go shopping since you were gone?

Either way, it didn’t matter. You were home alone, and that was most important at the moment. You could let your guard down for a little while.

At least, until whenever they came home.

With a huge weight temporarily off your shoulders, you made your way to your room, a small plan in mind.

First, you needed to change clothes. You were thankful for the clothes Dracula had lent you, but… what you had on was a little dated. Even if you liked how the loose, puffy shirt looked on you, and the comfortable pants… No doubt there would be questions why you were wearing clothing that was popular in a different century.

Then you needed to shower, and write down some stuff you needed to do going forward. Maybe even get some sleep before anyone gets home…

Sitting down on your bed with a messy plan in mind, you reached into your bag to get your dirty clothes out for you to wash later.

As you rummaged through it, you froze when you felt something new inside it.

Thoughts ran through your mind as your blood ran cold. Have you been had? Did someone plant a bomb or a weapon in your bag? Did Dracula betray you?

Carefully, your hand grasped the cool object, before slowly pulling out of your bag.

You couldn’t help the small gasp that left your mouth when you pulled out a potion bottle.

“When…?”

Looking over the bottle, you noticed a tag attached to the cork, and gently held it still as you made out the intricate cursive on the note.

‘I figured you could use this. It should be enough to finish healing your wounds. I hope you put it to good use.

Sincerely,

~VDT.’

You didn’t notice you were beginning to cry, until your vision became blurry with hot tears.

“VDT…. Vlad… Dracula Țepeș…?” You asked out loud with a sniffle.

He didn’t betray you. At some point, he must have slipped this in your bag after his last visit as he escorted you out. How?

It was a silly question to ask, given the immense power he held… but…

You sniffled again, tears hitting your leg as everything slowly began to hit you at once.

Despite it all…

…Dracula went out of his way to heal you, and even made sure you had something for when you got home.

More tears began to form as you carefully cradled the small note to your chest.

Dracula at least cared about you, when no one else did.

That thought both thrilled and terrified you to the core.

…Because you were certain you cared for him back.

[sweetiesicheng]

s.coups - slice of our lives

word count : 1,932

happy birthday to our handsome s.coups ~

-

"finally," you mutter as you sit down on a stack of wooden pallets. you just finished cleaning for the night at the restaurant you work at, but you couldn't help but think about the mistakes you had made earlier during tonight's service.

you dig through your backpack for a bit before opening one of the pockets. you take a box of cigarettes out and open the box to see your lighter and two cigarettes left. you take a cigarette out and light it up.

as you sit in the silence of the alley behind the restaurant, you try to calm down before going home for the night. you don't want to go home still thinking about the service since you have work tomorrow as well.

when you're done smoking the first cigarette, you drop the end onto the ground and reach down to smash it with your foot. the back door to the kitchen suddenly opens, and you see the expeditor walking out.

"hey," seungcheol greets when he notices you.

"hey," you greet back and light the second cigarette.

"you look beat," he comments as he takes his jacket off.

"cause i am," you reply. "we were slammed tonight."

"front of house messed up a lot since myungho’s out sick. we already chewed them out for it,” he mentions. he walks over to you and stands in front of you. "need a ride home?" he offers.

you shake your head, "no. i live pretty far. i'm going to leave after i'm done," you say to him.

"can i stay to make sure you get on your way safely?" he asks, "my mother would kill me if she somehow found out i left one of my coworkers by herself in this crusty alley."

you crack a smile, a first for the night. then, you nod your head. "yea, you can keep me company," you say to him. "i'd offer you a cigarette but i'm out."

he shakes his head, "i don't smoke, not anymore at least."

"better than me," you manage a laugh out. then you sigh, feeling emotions starting to bust out again, but you try to suppress them in front of your coworker.

"you okay?" seungcheol asks you. "hey, look at me. y/n, look at me."

you look down at the ground and watch your falling tears hit the pallet. seungcheol reaches over to take the cigarette away from your hand.

"hey, listen," seungcheol says to you and crouches down in front of you, enough to where he is in your view. "tonight was rough, for everyone. front of house was a mess, and chef shouldn't have taken you off of your station. you're a rockstar in there. no one else can work the desserts better than you."

you start to smile as you listen to him. then you chuckle, "yea, no one better than chef," you say.

"oh whatever. when we had family dinner that one time and you two had your little competition. everyone knew you were the best, even chef. if you hadn't beaten him, then you would have never stepped foot in that kitchen again. you're in that kitchen with all of us for a reason," seungcheol says to you. he reaches in and wipes some of your tears away. "need another pack?" he asks, noticing the empty box next to you.

you shake your head, "i’ll buy one another time," you say to him. "um, thanks. sorry you had to see that," you say to him and wipe the remaining tears with your sleeve.

"no worries. take it easy on yourself," seungcheol replies.

—

"y/n?"

you look over your shoulder and have to do a double take when you see seungcheol.

"oh, hey," you greet and look back at the mixer. "give me a second," you say to him.

"no, you're good. just wanted to tell you that i left something for you in your bag. keep it up," he says before walking away.

you smile and continue working. there are two desserts for tonight's service, but they're the ones you usually go with. with one of the line cooks helping you out today, the two of you finish preparing everything.

eventually, service begins and you help prep ingredients for the next day since you'll have to wait a bit until people want to eat their desserts.

"y/n, i'll love you forever if you save me a piece of cake. i want to bring my girlfriend something yummy from work," one of the line cooks says to you as she passes by.

"you should bring her here," you say to her. "i'll pack you two if we have any leftover," you say and continue prepping ingredients while she goes back to her station.

once some more time passes during service, you start making the desserts for customers as you hear orders called out.

"coming through. watch your feet," you hear someone say as they walk through with a tray.

"shoot, we need more strawberries," the line cook with you says. "i thought we had enough," he mumbles while finishing off making a dessert.

"i can grab more. finish these for me," you say to your coworker before leaving your station. you quickly go into the walk-in fridge and grab more strawberries before leaving. you quickly walk back, trying to avoid being in the way of the other chefs and employees. "here you go," you say to your coworker.

"thanks," he replies before finishing the desserts and bringing them to the pass.

the rest of service goes smoothly, much better than the past few shifts where you had been more stressed out. after you finish cleaning for the night, you grab your stuff and notice something in your bag, a new box of cigarettes. there's a note attached to it with a phone number and a smiley face drawn onto it.

you smile and pack up your things before leaving. you put your headphones on and start walking to the subway station.

—

[ y/n ]

you trying to keep me

hooked?

[ seungcheol ]

just trying to save you a trip.

did not mean to supply to

your habit.

my apologies. my apologies. 🙇🏻‍♂️

[ y/n ]

haha all good

thanks

[ seungcheol ]

no problem. get home safe.

—

the door to the condo slams open, "am i late?" seungcheol asks as he hurries in, all while holding a pizza box.

"you have three minutes. come on, sit. i'm hungry," you say to him as you crack open two beer cans.

"the pilot better not follow her again," seungcheol says as he throws his jacket onto the arm of the couch. he sits down next to you and pulls the coffee table closer to the couch so you two can reach easier.

"do you think she'll give a rose to him?" you ask as the show starts. "oh, not him!" you shout when you see an eliminated contestant back on the screen. “what is he doing?”

"geez...that's embarrassing," seungcheol comments.

the two of you watch the newest episode of "the bachelorette" together. both of you mentioned how you wanted to hang out, so you two eventually set up a date on one of the days that the restaurant is closed.

"that is way too embarrassing," seungcheol comments again as you two watch what is happening. "and what he said to her was even more embarrassing."

"yea, he's kind of aloof about all of this," you say as you grab a slice of pizza. "i'm surprised he hasn't gotten out yet. i bet he's just in this still cause he's cute," you add on as you watch the episode.

"you think he's cute?" seungcheol asks you. you look over at him.

you shrug, "i mean, yea. he's cute, but he's all over the place," you reply.

seungcheol leans back, putting his arm on the back of the couch. he tilts his head as he looks at you. "what about me?" he asks.

"huh?"

"am i cute?”

you stare at him, pizza in hand. you can feel yourself blushing from his words, knowing that your answer is in your face.

"you're cute. did you know that?" seungcheol asks.

"we're supposed to be watching "the bachelorette" right now," you say to him, trying to calm down internally at the same time.

he grins, "alright. let's watch," he says to you before looking at the tv screen again.

you look forward, eating a bit of pizza and trying to focus on the latest episode. you finish your slice and finish off the beer too. the episode continues on with a few dates and a jaw dropping moment happening.

you sit back on the couch with a second beer in hand. while watching, you feel seungcheol move his arm to be on your shoulders. since you want to be comfortable, you eventually lean against seungcheol as you two watch the episode together.

"damn, i should've bought flowers..." seungcheol mutters while the bachelorette starts handing roses to certain people. you look at seungcheol again. "you didn't hear that."

"uh huh," you start and look at the tv screen, "right." you chuckle while you hear seungcheol sigh. "you can give me some next time i come over," you say to him.

"next time? you're giving me a next time?" seungcheol asks.

you look at him again and smile, "you're cute too, choi seungcheol."

—

"stop! i'm testing new flavors!" you whine at seungcheol, who is trying to snag another piece of cake from the counter. "seungcheol! just wait like five more minutes."

"it's just one cake, y/n. you have a bunch of them. i'm sure it's great," seungcheol says to you, finally standing away from the table. with no cake in hand, he crosses his arms and leans against a counter while watching you decorate the cakes and put little details on top of them. "you going to make this for tomorrow's service?"

"yea. i've been thinking about making new stuff lately," you mention. "i think it'll be good for a change," you say and pick up a plate. "okay, taste test please," you say to seungcheol and hand him the plate.

he grabs the plate with one hand and opens a drawer next to him to take a fork out. he cuts into the dessert and takes a bite. you watch his expression change into a smile.

"oh, that's really good, babe," he says to you and continues eating. "i think this is better than the chocolate mousse."

"let me try," you request. seungcheol feeds you a piece. "i think it needs something on top," you state your opinion. "maybe just something for color."

you open the fridge and start looking for something to garnish the dessert before opening the freezer as well.

"what about this?" seungcheol points to something in the freezer.

"you think?" you ask.

"you have more of them, so it can't hurt to try," seungcheol says to you.

you make more desserts with little modifications to them, trying to determine which one is the best. seungcheol gives his opinions, which helps you a lot as both of you taste everything.

"this one is the best," you say to him, pointing at one of the cakes.

seungcheol nods, "yea, that one is really good. i like this one a lot too."

"hmm...maybe i should just wait until next week. i'll need to ask mingyu to order some ingredients at the restaurant," you say to him.

"you have plenty of time," seungcheol says to you. "you did a great job," he adds with a smile.

"thanks for helping me out."

"of course, babe."

[anxiousnerdwritings]

I can totally imagine that, after getting absolutely no where, Jokerized!twin darling just has an Azula-level breakdown. Especially if the Batfam or God forbid Damian somehow manages to subdue the unpredictable mess. There's no way that Twin!Reader doesn't resent Damian to a degree, especially after everything he put them through... so seeing his twin brother not only be accepted but also find a family that was willing to have him? While Twin!Darling was just used and abused in some shape or form? Absolutely breaking down!

Twin!Reader wholeheartedly holds an immense amount of resentment towards both Damian and Talia. I really like the idea that Twin!Reader was more akin to being that of a normal child born outside of a family full of assassins than to acting like one who was. Like, Twin!Reader was on par with Damian when it came to the proficiency of their training but the mentality just wasn’t there for them. They couldn’t just aimlessly kill, they couldn’t just walk away with someone’s blood on them and not feel something. Not only that, they just weren’t emotionless to any degree like how their mother and brother so easily were. They laughed, they cried, they felt fear, they felt hurt. Like, I’ve had this scenario in my head for a bit of there being a thunderstorm or a blizzard and Twin!Reader seeking out Damian because they’re scared, they sneak into his room and they just want comfort. They just want to be together with their twin brother in their moment of need. And Damian begrudgingly allows it cause they won’t go away no matter what he says but he still makes comments about how weak they are for something as ridiculous as a storm to have them acting like this and that the Reader better be out before mother finds out. I especially like this kind of scenario being what Twin!Reader holds onto when they need something no the better side to look back on. It didn’t happen often, nor did it come without berating, but there were a few moments that Twin!Reader had with Damian that they’ve held onto, that they’ve cherished.

I also really like the idea of Talia having tried to kill Twin!Reader behind Ra’s back, leaving them for dead only for them to survive and that’s where we go from there. I think it really adds to the whole familial betrayal thing and gives more to the Reader eventually going off the rails, especially as they’re in search of somewhere to belong, for someone who willingly and genuinely wants them for them. It makes it even more of a surprise and gut punch respectively for Damian, Talia, and Ra’s when the Reader pops back up. Especially, after being Jokerized.

All their life, Twin!Reader as been used and abused in some way, shape, or form. And even after being Jokerized that’s all they’re met with. Even if it isn’t to the same extent it was with Talia and Damian, these new people the Reader is trying to find belonging in all have ulterior motives. They want to use the Reader against Batman (or one of the other main people the Reader’s been associated with), they want something to have and hold over Batman’s (or whoever else’s) head. That’s all it is, at least in the beginning. Eventually these people do come to have some amount of care for the Reader but by then it’s too late and the Reader is in the wind and on to the next one.

I do really love the idea of Damian and Twin!Reader sharing their love for animals. I especially love the thought of the Reader’s first pet/companion being a hyena Joker and Harley (probably just Harley) gifted them after their initiation into the Clown Family. That hyena would mean the absolute world to the Reader, as far as the Reader was concerned it was their first friend and the first thing that ever stayed around for them. Wherever the Reader went, so did it. I love the thought of the hyena being protective of the Reader, sticking close to them for both security and comfort. The hyena very quickly becomes the only thing that Twin!Reader truly cares about anymore. Not to mention, there’s no doubt that after everything Twin!Reader’s been through before and after being Jokerized they have constant nightmares, even some night terrors, and the only one there for them is their loyal hyena. It’s there to curl around them protectively, to give them a warmth they’re not used to and a sense of being looked over that they’ve never felt before. I can even see the hyena bringing the Reader snacks to remind them to eat and take care of themself.

I can really see the Jokerized!Twin!Reader being thrown into an all out breakdown if their hyena died, especially if it died protecting them (whether from the batfamily or some rogue rando). That was their only friend, the only thing that truly ever cared about them and now they had nothing anymore. They had no one. They were lost all over again. If any of the batfamily members had anything to do with the Reader’s precious hyena’s death there would never be any forgiveness. If someone else were the reason for the hyena’s death than the Reader wouldn’t think twice about killing them and getting revenge for their beloved companion. Either way, no matter who caused the Reader’s hyena’s death I can see the batfamily all trying to subdue them from enacting any revenge on whoever. No matter how feral and berserk the Reader is in the moment, no matter how hard they fight, how hard they hit, I see Bruce, Jason and Damian especially not letting go of them. They hold the Reader the entire time, unrelenting in their grasp no matter how hurt they get in the process. If the Reader is as unrelenting as they are then they’ll have to knock them out. From there the family will take Jokerized!Twin!Reader home, where they’ll be safer, where the family can watch over and be there for them.

After their breakdown, there is no way in hell, Damian and Bruce especially will be able to go on with the Reader not being with them. Seeing how absolutely destroyed they’ve become, how much of a broken husk they’ve been turned into after everything they’ve been through, Damian and Bruce can’t allow anything more to happen to their sibling/child. No matter what it takes, how long it takes, Damian and Bruce aren’t giving up on Jokerized!Twin!Reader. They will save them, they will put them back together again. They will be the family that the Reader should have had all along.

God forbid if Ra’s was there to see his precious grandchild breakdown like that in front of him. Damian and Bruce be damned, he’s taking them home with him and Talia will be thoroughly dealt with for her part in all of this, in destroying his pride and joy.

[flowerandblood]

The Man in the Black Mask

[ Amor • Aemond x Psyche • female ]

[ warnings: angst, violence, assassination attempt, mention of the murder of multiple people, descriptions of murders ]

[ description: After she is attacked in a fair by a strange man and narrowly avoids death, her father the king decides that from now on she will be watched over by one of his 'ghosts', a assassin acting on his orders, wearing a black mask. The man follows her like a shadow, accompanied by their past, which keeps her awake at night. Gothic horror love story, angst, sexual tension, very dark Aemond. ]

This story is several requests combined into one: sworn protector x female; Amor x Psyche; Phantom of the Opera! Aemond x female. I took the liberty of creating a completely new story from this, having only elements of each of these requests.

Series & Characters Moodboard

Lady Walford Moodboard

Gothic & Horror Sensual Moodboard

Part 2 - The Man with the Empty Heart | Part 3 - The Man with the Lost Soul | Part 4 - The Man with the Cold Lips | Part 5 - The Man with the Deep Scar | Part 6 - The Man with the One Eye | Part 7 - The Man with the Golden Gift | Part 8 - The Man in the Black Crown | Part 9 - The Man with the Bloody Sword | Part 10 - The Man in the Black Gloves | Part 11 - The Man in the Death Cloak | Part 12 - The Man with the Pearly Hair | Part 13 - The Man with the Fiery Gaze

* English is not my first language. Please, do not repost. Enjoy! *

Next chapters: Masterlist

_____

Her father, the King, only realised how many enemies he had after a man dared to attack her while she was strolling around the fair during one of her walks. He wanted to get closer to her and slipped a dagger out from behind his cloak − if it hadn't been for the woman selling fish and her shouting, she wouldn't have noticed him or the steel gleaming in his hand.

She did what any other person in her position would have done, which is to say, she screamed in terror, stepping back, bumping into a wooden makeshift table full of vegetables, which toppled over with her − the assassin gave up at the last moment, terrified by the sudden outbreak of panic, and disappeared among the crowd.

Some elderly man helped her up, the knights of her father's guard rode up on horseback, alarmed by these frightened noises. One of them, Ser Lucas, her father's friend from his youth and the great rebellion furrowed his brow as he saw her face.

"Princess?"

She wasn't sure if her father was more furious with her or with the man who had tried to attack her. He commented on her irresponsibility and disobedience, her recklessness, and expressed outrage that her guards had not even noticed how she had escaped them.

"I just wanted to see the fair, my King." She said in a trembling voice without looking at him; she stood before him with her hair loose, wearing a beautiful navy blue gown with sleeves that reached to the ground − her shoulders were bare, on her hips a delicate golden belt made up of tiny eyes in which sapphires were framed.

"That's enough." He said agitated and impatient, raising his hand in a gesture of frustration, his dark hair and beard adding to his seriousness, his brow furrowed in anger. "Until you learn prudence, one of my ghosts will not leave your side."

She looked at him, horrified, and then turned her gaze to the man standing beside him, a few steps behind his throne, his figure hidden completely in shadow. He was dressed all in black, a hood over his head and a black mask on which a single tear was outlined under his right eye.

It was said that it was molded so that the people they were killing would have the feeling that they had compassion for them, that they were just a tool used by someone else.

People called them ghosts because they weren't seen on a daily basis – or at least that's what it was believed. They were forbidden to take off their mask or speak to anyone but her father, and were his principal emissaries that found his enemies, invigilated them and killed them.

Since the days of the rebellion and the overthrow of the earlier king, her father was perpetually in fear of an attempt on his or his children's lives, so he found, she supposed, people desperate or fond of killing, those who owed him everything and had no reason to betray them.

She passed and saw them extremely rarely, only during sumptuous feasts in the company of guests or gatherings of magnates from all over the country.

They stood then by her father's side, as always in the shadows, though invisible, constantly reminding her of their presence with their very posture, menacing and stony, the people around them afraid to look at them.

She didn't know how many of them there were in total; they were almost identical and differed only in height, besides that they wore the same clothes, masks, hoods and black leather gloves, probably to avoid staining their skin with blood.

The thought that someone like that was to accompany and guard her sent shivers down her spine − she had feared that her father would now know of her every move, that she would never leave the fortress again.

She lowered her gaze, saying no more, listening to his orders to find the man who had attacked her, whom she had described in detail to the other ghosts.

She left, feeling that if she stayed there another moment she would vomit.

It seemed to her that these black hooded figures were sucking the life out of everyone around them, that they were a walking harbinger of death and misery.

That night she heard his voice for the first time.

Her guards were outraged when he dismissed them.

"You are not a King, by what right do you command us?" Asked one of them, a cold, deep, mocking voice answered them.

"Shall I inform the King that not only are you incapable of guarding his daughter, but you refuse to obey his orders?"

She heard someone's growl and an unclear voice full of impatience, the clack of steel and armour proving that they had walked away − she was left alone with the cold murderer outside her door.

She pressed her lips together, felt her eyes burning due to the gathering tears at the realization that she had never felt more alone and abandoned than she did now.

She wriggled in bed, as she did every day, unable to fall asleep. It was raining loudly outside and she looked towards the window, seeing nothing but darkness. She felt small and even though she was lying under several thick furs, she was cold.

She rose slowly, putting a soft cashmere shawl over her shoulders, lighting a candle that illuminated her chamber with a pleasant, warm glow.

There is a man behind that mask, she thought.

He was not a ghost.

If she made any kind of bond with him, she would stop being afraid of him.

She walked to her door and stood in front of it for a long moment, feeling her heart pounding hard and fast. She swallowed hard and opened it with a loud creak of old wood.

Her candle instantly illuminated his figure − he was standing exactly opposite her door, leaning against the wall with his hands clasped in front of him. She wondered if he was asleep in that position, but after a moment she noticed something behind the translucent black material in the area cut out for his eyes, a blue iris staring at her.

She looked at him for a moment, wondering if he would move, but he stood like a statue − it seemed to her as if he were made of stone.

Was he supposed to stand like that all the time?

Her father had told her that he would gift her his one ghost.

Would they be exchanging? After all, he had to sleep at some point.

"What's your name?" She asked uncertainly, softly, wanting to sound as open and honest as possible.

Silence.

A long one.

"How am I supposed to address you if I don't know what your name is?" She asked again, looking at him pleadingly, asking him to let her at least get a little closer to him, to be able to give him humanity.

Silence.

She pressed her lips together and thought something else would make him speak.

"Should I complain to the king about you not answering my questions?" She asked lowly, wrinkling her eyebrows, wondering where she had got the courage to speak to this man in this way. A shudder went through her when she heard him let out a breath, as if he had given up, resigned.

"Call me any name you see fit." He said in a low, deep, indifferent tone, as if the fact that he had to speak to her frustrated him incredibly and he didn't understand what she wanted from him.

She felt a tightening in her throat at the thought that there was no more human thing than being given a name − it was the first thing given to a child at birth, and he renounced it.

"Shall I name you?" She asked shaking her head, not understanding what he was implying − he turned his face to the side, despite the mask she could feel the growing impatience beating from him.

"Yes. My Princess." He added after a moment, his words razor-sharp, cool, angry, mocking. She had the impression that he treated her interest as something completely unnecessary − apparently it suited him to remain in the shadows and he had no intention of coming out of it.

She looked at him with pain mixed with disappointment and thought he reminded her of one of the horrific mythological beasts her mother had once read to her about before bed, a great mighty dragon that sowed death and destruction.

"Vhagar."

She heard the word she had spoken echoed, followed only by the sound of rain, and felt that there was something final in what she had done.

"I will always treat you with respect and I will never make you do anything to humiliate you or offend your good name." She choked out with difficulty, wanting him to understand that they were condemned to each other and that this in itself was a misfortune, however, it would be even more so if they both pretended that he didn't exist, that he was just her shadow that followed her everywhere.

He did not respond.

She closed herself back into her chamber only walking towards her bed feeling that her legs were trembling. She lay down on her bed covering herself with thick furs, frozen and terrified, closing her eyes, praying to the gods to show her mercy.

That they would not lock her away in this cold, stone fortress forever until her father claimed to have found a suitable candidate for her to marry.

As she did every day, she also prayed for someone else.

Someone who had lived in this chamber before her.

The next day she got up awake, a terrible headache accompanying her from the moment she opened her eyes. She sat down at the table, covering herself with her shawl − overnight the wood in her fireplace had burned out.

She lifted her gaze as she heard the door to her chamber open, her servants entering with golden trays on which they served her breakfast.

She saw Vhagar follow them inside, his hands entwined behind his back − it seemed to her that his footsteps made no sound, that he could sneak up on someone silently.

"You're supposed to taste everything first." He said to one of them dryly and emotionlessly − the girl looked at him apprehensively, clearly already knowing stories of men of his ilk and what they did.

"My Lord?" She choked out, clearly not understanding what he was asking her.

"Anything the Princess wants to eat or drink − you are to taste it first. This is how it will be from now on with everything you bring her. Do you understand?" He asked coolly and insistently, and she nodded, lowering her gaze, pale.

"Is this necessary, Vhagar?" She asked looking at him with a furrowed brow − he turned his face towards her but answered nothing. He looked back at her servant after a moment.

"Begin."

"I've lost my appetite. Take this away. You can eat it all, let it not go to waste." She said raising her hand, allowing them to leave turning her head to the side, looking blankly at her wardrobe standing on the other side of the chamber.

She saw out of the corner of her eye that he hadn't moved from his spot, that he was looking at her, his aura giving her shivers.

She knew he was about to say something.

"My Princess…" He started and she turned her face towards him. "…are you going to eat your meal, or do I have to shove it down your throat?"

She looked at him with huge eyes, feeling her heart pounding fast.

She thought with horror that he was mad.

"That is all, Vhagar. You may leave." She said in an unobjectionable voice, clasping her hands in her lap, trying to hide how much they were trembling.

He stared at her, his black tear-streaked mask seeming even more frightening and mocking to her, cold and lifeless.

"Mmm." He hummed, though it sounded more like a purr, bowed barely visibly and left her chamber.

She let out a loud breath, burying her face in her hands, feeling a desperate burbling in her stomach from hunger, thinking that she would not give him the satisfaction of letting him dominate her life, ordering her servants around, locking her in a cage.

She asked her servants to help her dress − she put on this time a light-coloured gown with a fine gold belt around her hips made up of tiny chains, some of her hair pinned back in a bun, some falling down her bare back, her sleeves reaching all the way to the ground.

She walked out of her chamber without looking at him, without telling him where she was going, hearing that he immediately moved to follow her.

Her shadow.

She saw the ladies of the court looking at her, terrified of who was accompanying her, as if she were being followed by death itself − people turned their faces away and froze in silence, not knowing what to do, how to react to this unwanted sight.

She headed for the main castle library hearing him enter behind her − he stopped at the door when it slammed behind them, standing in front of it with his hands folded behind his back.

She was starving and decided to distract her mind with some reading. She picked up a few books on the history of her kingdom, sitting down at one of the large oak tables right by the window to get more light. She opened one of the books in front of her, looking for the chapter that interested her.

"You may sit down, Vhagar." She said dispassionately, not wanting him to think she expected him to stand there like some stone pillar, but he didn't move from his place.

An hour passed before he spoke to her, snapping her out of her reverie.

"You need to eat." He communicated a little more softly than before − she felt him looking at her, but she did not lift her gaze to him, uninterested.

"My servants will not taste my food. You yourself watch the cooks and what they put on my platters." She replied with reserve, answered by a long silence.

"Very well."

She looked up at him, sighing quietly, his face turned towards her − she knew what was the reason for his impatience, what he was afraid of.

What would the King think if it turned out that under his watch she had begun to refuse food and starve herself? How would that reflect on him as her protector?

She rose from her seat, putting her books slowly back on the shelf, returning to her chamber without changing another word with him.

As she sat down to supper with her father, her younger brother, and his closest associates, the King immediately asked her what she thought of her new sworn protector, who stood behind her chair right next to the wall, as usual, hidden completely in the shadows.

She swallowed loudly a piece of the roast she had just had in her mouth, noticing with a kind of discomfort that her father spoke of him as if he had given her a thing, not a man.

"Thank you, Father, I do indeed feel safer in his presence." She lied, clutching the wine cup in her hand and taking a loud sip from it, wanting to end the subject quickly.

The King nodded, looking impatiently to his confidant secretary, a companion to all the major battles won during the rebellion.

"Has Prince Aemond's body been found at last? It's been eight years, for goodness sake." He said sternly, impatient; as far as she understood, only his body of the entire Targaryen family had not been found after the great massacre that had taken place in the fortress where they were now feasting.

Lord Ronan grunted loudly, shifting in his seat, blinking rapidly as if thinking of what to answer.

"We are getting closer, my King. We're searching the city's underground, likely to find his corpse soon. The cut of the sword fell right on his face, he couldn't have survived that." He said with a certainty that was filled with the need to sound as convincing as possible, which did not escape her or her father attention.

She lowered her gaze, setting down her cup with a loud clang of steel on the wooden tabletop, looking down at her plate, losing her appetite completely.

The entire royal family slaughtered in their beds after her father at the head of the army stormed into the fortress, elected by the people to rule after the inept reign of King Viserys.

"With apologies, I will retire to my chamber. My King. My Prince. My Lords." She said bowing in turn and moved ahead, not waiting for her father's permission − she heard rustling behind her, she knew her ghost had not left her side.

They walked in silence through the dark corridors of the fortress illuminated only by the warm light of torches − she knew the way to her chamber by heart. Her mind, however, was elsewhere, wondering what would happen if Prince Aemond lived.

If he came in with his army and slit their throats as her father had done to his family.

She stood in front of the door to her chamber, glancing up at his tall black figure towering over her like a cold shadow.

"Thank you for your devotion, Vhagar. Rest now." She said turning her head and opened the door, but stood in half step, surprised to hear his voice behind her.

"How does it feel to sleep where she slept?" He asked with a kind of excitement, as if the thought of it gave him satisfaction.

She felt her heart start pounding like mad, a cold sweat on her back at the thought of Princess Helaena bleeding to death in the bed she was now sleeping in.

She looked up at him − in the light of the torch she could see through the black fabric his blue irises, his pupil looking at her in such a way that she had the impression that he was a predator who was looking at his prey, whose entrails he was about to tear apart.

She was silent for a long moment.

"Horrible." She said dispassionately lowering her gaze.

"I imagine her lying in my place and all I can think about is that the same thing will happen to me one day." She muttered, feeling his heavy gaze on her − there was some kind of tension between them, though she didn't know why. "I pray every day for her forgiveness."

"Ghosts do not forgive." He said coldly, as if stating some foreboding, indisputable fact − she looked at him with a pained expression, furrowing her brow.

"What else can I do?" She asked in a trembling voice, but got no answer, his black mask with a tear running down his cheek looked at her indifferently.

"Sleep well, Princess."

_____

Aemond Taglist:

(bold means I couldn't tag you)

@its-actually-minicika @notnormalthings-blog @nikstrange @zenka69 @bellaisasleep @k-y-r-a-1 @g-cf2020 @melsunshine @opheliaas-stuff @chainsawsangel @iiamthehybrid @tinykryptonitewerewolf @namoreno @malfoytargaryen @qyburnsghost @aemondsdelight @persephonerinyes @fan-goddess @sweethoneyblossom1 @watercolorskyy @randomdragonfires @apollonshootafar @padfooteyes

[ct7567scyarika]

Been seeing comment on the Acolyte. People acting the whole:

“She was a child!”

“You brought her here.”

Was a good gotcha moment against the Jedi or “he makes a good point.” One dude even said “can’t argue with that.”

Watch me.

Killing Jecki

First of all, Sol did not bring Jecki to fight Mae’s Master. He brought her as a part of an ongoing investigation that she’s been a part of and they were going to try to warn a fellow Jedi and/or make an arrest on Mae. He DID NOT KNOW that the would encounter essentially a Sith.

Qimir didn’t have to kill her. Jedi have knocked out enemies and he could’ve as well.

“It was self defense” OH??? He attacked the Jedi first. He was out to KILL. HE made that choice. Y’all don’t excuse Anakin slaughtering younglings so why this guy? Because he’s a Sith? (We’ll get into that and “Force monopoly” in a minute).

“It’s commentary on how Jedi put their Padawans in danger!”

What does Sol and other Jedi do when suddenly facing a greater danger expected with their Padawans? What’s the order? Run. MAYBE another order like “get these people out” “or finish this original plan and leave.” But still, it’s to get their Padawans to safety. They will hold off the enemy to give their students safety. They even go as far as sacrificing themselves to do so.

“He’s a Sith what did you expect?”

Briefly touching this. It’s not because of my expectations of Sith, I know they do horrid things. It’s why y’all are excusing the action, especially just to spite the Jedi?

“Jedi were not letting anyone outside their Order to use the Force!”

I see this often and I’m worried this is what the show going for, so I’m gonna debunk this right now.

It’s not disallowing others using the Force. There are so many other cultures that use the Force and the Jedi usually leave them alone. (Nightsisters, for example). It when people are using the Force to create disharmony, to cause HARM to others and themselves that they intervene.

The Sith are literally a culture of Force Users who do horrendous things for their own gain. They will torture and kill just because. Who wiped out the Nightsisters in the Clone Wars? Oh yeah, SITH. (They didn’t even do it themselves. They sent out the asthmatic cyborg.)

The Coven? The Jedi didn’t say “stop using the Force, you’re not allowed to have it.” They came because, at the time I’m writing this, (half an hour before episode 6 is released), they fled intentionally away from Republic space to do something that warranted the Jedi to investigate. Also it was the JEDI asking the kids what they wanted. It was, at the least, most of the Coven telling the children how evil the Jedi are and they are not allowed to join them.

This characterization isn’t just an Acolyte problem or even solely fandom. It’s been an issue even with Old Republic writings (and this is coming from someone who LOVES the Old Republic era).

[trippinsorrows]

looking through your eyes + two

authors note: holy shit, i didn't expect so many people to be interested in this story! thank you all so much for the kind comments. this one is heavier than the first, but the following should be a little lighter.

i also just want to clarify something that a few of you mentioned: roman will not be abusive in this story. i know that's a plot used frequently, but it's not my thing, so i just wanna make that clear. :)

he is an ass though.....for now.

also, please, please, please heed to the cw/tw's! i will update them to reflect the content of each update. it's up to you, the reader, to prepare yourself properly by reading them to avoid being triggered.

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

cw/tw: language, violence against women, a scene of torture, depiction of ptsd, trauma responses (panic attacks), mentions of suicidal thoughts, brief line of dialogue referring to past childhood sexual assault, trauma response due to past childhood sexual assault

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

words: 7k

“You’re going to kill Roman Reigns for us.”

If Solana was capable of feeling and experiencing any emotion other than sadness and fear, she would laugh. 

She would laugh because no one sane truly thinks that they can kill the head of the table, least of all someone like her. But, it really does settle in that her father and brother truly believe that she, of all people, can do something like that.

Can take someone’s life. 

Just the thought alone unlocks a new level of dread and terror. 

Eyes watering, she shakes her head, protesting. “No. I—I can’t do that. I—I won’t.”

Rarely, if ever, does Solana push back on what she’s asked or told to do. It only results in more severe beatings that lead to ER trips vs having to patch herself back up in her bathroom. She’s accepted that acquiescence is always a better alternative. But this….this she can’t get behind.

Wes smiles. “I was hoping you’d say that.”

As soon as the words leave his mouth, Solana knows exactly what’s about to happen next. Stupidly, she tries to escape, climbing up on her feet and making it centimeters past Wes when he fists her hair, yanking her body back. She hisses in pain and starts to cry and protest as he drags her across the first floor of the house.

“No! P-please! I–I’m sorry!” She begs, all the while Xavier follows lazily behind, keeping his cigar near his mouth. 

“Shut up,” Wes snaps. She cries, heartbeat sporadic, so much so that it’s becoming difficult to breathe. That’s one of the worst things to happen considering what she knows is about to occur. He kicks open the bathroom door, and sure enough, the tub is already full and ready.

“No…..” Wes shoves her toward the tub, kicking her in her back to force her to the knees, Solana’s head banging against the side of the tub. She can only blink two or three times before water is burning her eyes, filling her mouth, drowning her.

Solana flails against Wes whose strong hand holds her down under the water by the back of her head. It’s a wasteless effort, trying to fight against him, when her energy would be better spent trying not to drown.

Not that Wes will allow that. He’s adept at bringing her to the edge of unconsciousness, pulling back just in time to taunt her. And that’s exactly what he does, pulling her head back, finding a level of enjoyment at her violent coughs and tears. 

His favorite form of torturing her.

She’s not sure how long it lasts, only knows there’s a tremendous amount of relief when he finally lets her go long enough for her to plant her palms on the ground to gather herself. 

Xavier, who stood there watching the whole time with pleasure, walks towards her. Solana gasps and moves her body back against the tub, wanting as much distance between the two of them as possible.

His face is blank, no emotion in his eyes. “You either kill Reigns.” Solana’s eyes shut as Xavier caresses her wet cheek. “Or we kill you.”

It’s impossible to hold back her tears, as Solana breaks down in front of her father and brother, the both of which simply walk away with an astounding amount of indifference. 

They slam the bathroom door shut, allowing her the privacy of at least deteriorating without their judgmental glares. 

Pulling up her legs against her chest and wrapping her arms around them, she sobs into her thighs, confused as to just how in the hell she ended up in this situation.

Solana isn’t a killer. Has never even had the desire to kill anyone. Not even the two men who just made it abundantly clear that her only two options are to kill or be killed.

Just how all of this is supposed to work is beyond her. Roman is a boulder of a man, body covered in ropes of pure muscle with a kill count that rivals some of the world’s leading assassins. She’s barely 5'1, can’t seem to get the scale to budge no matter how many diets she tries, and trembles in the presence of anyone who has an XY chromosome combination.

Many have tried to kill Roman, and all have failed, meeting gruesome, torturous deaths. 

What chance does she have?

————

Any prayer sent up requesting some type of divine intervention to stop this unholy union is either denied, ignored, or planning to be answered at a much later date and time, because the next two weeks speed by faster than the speed of light.

Solana’s days are filled with wedding preparations that require little to no of her say in what she wants. Not that that’s any different from most things in her life.

Granted, there’s a small part of her that mourns when she’s presented with her wedding dress.

The dress she doesn’t want to wear for a wedding she doesn’t want to have. There’s an alarming lack of autonomy that suddenly feels so much heavier and suffocating despite it being a consistent, dominant theme in her life.

A large part of her recognizes how it’s probably largely due to the whole reason why all of this is happening.

Her father and brother want control of the bloodline.

Objectively speaking, she can see why this would be a goal. It’s everyone’s goal. To have control and power over the most powerful crime family in the entire continent. Maybe beyond. The Bloodline’s true stretch has never really been made public, per se. She’s certain that’s partially what makes them so dangerous. One can never really know who is a member and who is not, who has ties and who is an enemy.

A secret that gives them a forever advantage.

The day of the actual wedding, like everything else, comes much quicker than Solana feels prepared for. Truthfully, she doesn’t feel prepared for any of this, doesn’t want any of this, but much like most things in her life, her wants and desires don’t matter.

No one cares to hear them, and no one definitely cares to respect them. 

On the day of the wedding, shortly after arriving at the church, she’s left alone in one of the back rooms. Someone mutters something about the makeup artist and hairstylist to come in shortly before slamming the door and leaving her by herself. That’s mostly a bad thing. Being alone with the thoughts she’s been having lately……they typically don’t result in anything good. 

Overwhelmed and in her head too much, Solana grabs her purse and takes out the latest journal she’s been working out of.

And she writes.

Dear Mom,

Today is my wedding day. I should be happy. You should be here. None of that is the case though. The truth is that I feel so empty. This won’t turn out well. I either try to kill Roman and he ends up killing me as a result or I refuse and dad and Wes kill me.

There is no outcome where I make it out of here alive.

And mama, I know you always told me to never forget that life is a gift, but mine isn’t. It hasn’t been since they took you from me.

And truthfully……I don’t think I really care anymore.

Life is hard. Maybe this is a blessing in disguise.

I’d rather be with you instead.

The knock on the door startles Solana as she hurriedly moves to close up her notebook, stuffing it back in her purse as she calls out for whoever is on the other side to enter. The door slowly swings open as Solana quickly swipes at her eyes, feeling the burning of pending tears.

She can’t let them see her cry though.

No matter how badly she wants to.

While Solana expects another set of hard eyes and an indifferent scowl, she’s met with a woman around the same age as her with half her head shaved, the other side full of dark purple hair that grazes her shoulder.

“Damn, got the right room on the first try. Let’s fucking go.” Solana stands up as the woman walks over, adjusting the black makeup kit on her shoulder. “I’m Bayley.” She extends her hand out for a handshake, and Solana takes a second to reciprocate, caught off guard by her relaxed disposition. The way her smile meets her eyes, not a trace of irritation or disgust in having to assist her.

Solana has only had minimal interaction with representatives of the Bloodline, namely the women who accompanied her at the tailor shop and made comments, most likely about her, in their native Samoan. Nina always taught her daughter not to assume, but it’s hard to not believe cruel things are being stated when they’re conjoined with pointing, eye rolls, and curt exchanges when they needed Solana to move a certain way.

So Solana, understandably, is cautious. 

“Solana,” she shares, shifting in her seat.

“I know,” Bayley snickers, placing her makeup kit on the counter and starting to lay out products. “I’d be a bit of a shitty makeup artist if I didn’t know who the bride was, am I right?”

Solana doesn’t say anything. The silence doesn’t come from a place of rudeness but rather continued confusion. She can’t comprehend why this woman is being so nice to her?

If Bayley is bothered by the lack of responses, she does a damn great job of not showing it. “Now, I have a couple ideas of what look I think I wanna go for with you, but as it’s your big day, what are you thinking?”

That…..that is what triggers another one word responde. 

Cautious, she asks, “me?”

Bayley pauses in the midst of starting to pick out foundation options and leans back against the counter, a small, sympathetic smile on her face. “Arranged marriages suck ass. You already don’t get to pick who you’re gonna spend the rest of your life with. The least you can do is pick out some makeup.”

There’s something so insanely comforting about her otherwise simple words. Something freeing and liberating about being given an option, even if it’s about makeup. For the first time today, Solana actually smiles.

“I—I like neutral colors. Gold…maybe would be okay too.”

And just like that, the deep smile that revealed the dimple in Bayley’s right cheek returns. “Great minds think alike. That’s exactly what I was gonna go for.”

“And—” Solana adds, voice an octave lower, insecurity creeping back in. “If—if you could cover the scar as best you can.”

“What scar?” Bayley gives her a wink before finishing up the laying out of products. “I got you, girl.”

It’s not very often, if ever, Solana feels beautiful. And even when those once in a blue moon moments occur, they’re fleeting or surface level, typically dashed by a cruel comment from her family. But today, standing in front of the mirror, makeup completed, hair done, and dress on, she actually feels beautiful.

The first time she tried on the dress, it was an unpleasant experience for a variety of reasons, on top of the fact that she hated the style. Strapless and form-fitting with a sweetheart neckline. Solana hates her arms and especially bringing too much attention to her chest and body in general.

But conjoined with the hair and makeup, she actually doesn’t immediately want to turn away from the mirror when she sees the outcome.

Bayley comes behind her, still wearing that smile that Solana is now convinced, despite the odds, is genuine. “Reigns is a lucky bastard. You look fuckin’ gorgeous.”

Solana really does mean it when she offers a sincere “thank you.” Bayley’s positive energy is exactly what she needed. It doesn’t change anything, but it definitely does help her not to be consumed by thoughts she hasn’t had since she was a teenager.

“Hey, uhh, I’m sure being married to Mr. Tribal Chief himself means you’ll probably have to make appearances from time to time, hold his arm and shit.” She hands Solana a small piece of paper. Unfolding it, Solana sees numbers scribbled down in red ink. A phone number.  “Ever need glam again for any of it, hit me up. Or even….even if you just need someone to talk to.”

“Thank you.” Solana’s voice is stronger this time, firmer, the small act of kindness traveling such a long way. She holds up one side of her gown to walk over and slide the paper in her purse. 

She’ll make sure not to lose it. 

There’s a hard knock on the door that reminds her where she is. Reminds her that people like Bayley are anomalies. One doesn’t get to experience kindness for too long. Not in her world. 

Solana honestly didn’t expect her father to walk her down the aisle, didn’t see it as something he would have any interest in nor find an exciting opportunity. And those two reasons are very much true, but his desire to issue last minute warnings outweighs both of them.

Xavier’s frame fills the door as he looks at Solana from head to toe. Instantly, he’s scowling with disapproval. 

“Why is her hair not down?”

Solana was partially worried about that. She knows her father has always told her she needs to keep her length so that she can always wear her hair down as it helps to “hide how fat your face is.”

She doesn’t know how wrong or right he is about that, but she’s wanted to cut it for ages, being unable to do so because she knows it’ll upset him.

Bayley, however, doesn’t seem to give two shits about Xavier’s disapproval. “Updo’s are typically better for formal events. Granted, up or down, she still looks beautiful.”

Solana can’t tell entirely if Bayley is defending her work or Solana. Either way, she has a tremendous amount of respect for this woman who doesn’t seem to give two shits about who Xavier Miller is.

If only Solana could do the same.

Xavier cuts his eyes in Bayley’s direction but says nothing, instead walking over to Solana and whispering in her ear. “You should have started your fast three days ago instead of two. You still look fat. Hold your stomach in as you walk down the aisle.”

Any relief or peace felt from her interaction with Bayley is dead the second those cruel words leave his mouth. As soon as he entered the room, really. But Solana doesn’t have time to be sad, because he moves to drop her veil over her face and loops his arm with hers. 

He walks her out of the room, depriving her of a chance to tell Bayley goodbye and thank you again. 

Xavier leads her down the hall, a left, and then a right before they’re standing before the double doors that lead to the sanctuary. She wants to ask for a second to gather herself, feeling the panic starting to rise, but Xavier barks for the guards standing outside the door to open said door.

And they oblige without protest.

The veil is more opaque than she remembers, partially obscuring her view of Roman and the others who wait for her at the end of the aisle. There’s a sea of people on either side of the pews, many and most, Bloodline members. But, she can’t focus on that.

All she can focus on is the low, warning voice of her father. “You will please him and do exactly as he asks.” What other choice do I have? “Earn his trust. We will tell you the rest when the time comes.”

Solana would give anything for that time to never come.

And once they reach the end, before he frees her hand for Roman to take it, he snatches the chance to put on a good display of faux love, leaning over for a hug. Solana instantly tenses at his touch.

“Don’t fuck this up,” he whispers and pulls away with a smile that has her empty stomach knotting.

Swallowing, Solana channels her focus back on Roman. Like the past two times she'd seen him, his hair is neatly pulled back, but unlike those exchanges, he’s dressed to the nines. Expensive, designer suit, all black, the only red in his appearance, the red Ula Fala he wears around his neck. Representation of his status as Tribal Chief, his role in his family’s dynasty.

Solana can admit that he looks good. Very good.

If only everything else just wasn’t so bad.

Roman has no reaction at unveiling her, and Solana can’t tell if that’s a good or bad thing. She’d like to just say he has no reaction to anything, really, but that’s untrue.

He’s notorious for his angry reactions to the most minute situations sometimes. 

So perhaps no reaction is the best reaction she can receive.

Still, it unsettles her. Has she upset him already?

The two of them are directed to kneel by the pastor, or maybe Shaman, or maybe just an official. She’s not really sure, but whoever he is, he wastes no time in starting with the formalities of the wedding. He says many things, but Solana’s mind is elsewhere, not that it’s an intentional avoidance.

Her father reminding her of the fact that she hasn’t had anything to eat for two days is suddenly bringing on the extreme exhaustion and weakness she’s pretty sure she’d managed to put on the back burner in exchange for mental anguish. 

She’s so incredibly tired. And it feels impossible to be present for the vows or to stand when she’s prompted so by the officiant. It’s even more difficult to stay cognizant enough to acknowledge what’s being asked of her, forced of her, with a set of “I do’s.”

But, it’s when a knife is pulled out that her face pales, flashes of numerous, previous exchanges where that little piece of silver was used to mentally and physically terrorize her. Roman somehow notices this and quietly murmurs, “relax. It’s tradition.”

Before she can speak, the officiant continues. “Now, as are the ways of our ancestors, we shall seal this union before God, family, and all with blood.” Roman offers his hand, palm faced upward and nods at Solana to do the same. Reluctantly, she follows, eyes shutting, not wanting to see whatever is about to happen next.

“Careful,” Roman warns. She’s unsure who it’s directed to, but it’s followed by a brief, burning pain across her palm. She’s been cut, nothing major, but enough to draw blood. 

Her hand is moved followed by instant, coarse, warmth. Eyes opening, she sees that her and Roman’s hands have been joined together.

“In the eyes of the ancestors, you two are now officially bound to one another not just by law, tribal and government, but blood. A curse be placed upon anyone who dares interfere with this marriage.” Separating their hands, Roman takes the red cloth and wipes her palm before his own, tossing it to who she recognizes as his enforcer/cousin, Solo. “And now, you may kiss the bride.”

For whatever reason, probably several good ones, Solana hadn’t thought about this part. The part where Roman would have to touch her, would have to kiss her, in front of everyone.

There’s a quick increase of anxiety and panic that ensues when Roman takes her hand, pulling to force her to angle her body toward him. Her heart is smashing against her chest with the weight of a ton of bricks. 

But just as quickly as the anxiety rushed in, it’s gone because Roman’s head dips lower to hers and his lips are on and off her faster than she can process, than she can freak out over.

She’s unsure about this brief interaction, a possible indication he’s just as uninterested in this union as she is. 

A business arrangement.

That’s what he called it.

That’s what he called her.

Even her hand in his as he leads her down the aisle, stoic expression the polar opposite of one would expect for what should be the happiest day of someone’s life.

She wonders if he views this as the exact opposite.

Because Solana certainly does.

————

Despite her best efforts to power through, the weakness gets worse and is complicated by a sort of dizziness that makes Solana partially grateful her arm is linked with Roman’s. She tries not to show that she’s leaning more on him than her own two feet, not trusting them to give out on her.

But, this man is perceptive as hell, she should know this. One doesn’t get to be where he is, accomplished all he has by being oblivious. 

He’s escorting her into the reception area, already lively and full of people, most of which she doesn’t know, many of which she’s not sure she wants to know. 

But instead of leading her toward an individual or group of individuals, he pulls her to the side, asking in a low but steel voice. “What’s wrong?”

Solana stills. The last thing she wanted to do was bring attention to herself, and that’s exactly what she’s done. Trying her best to do damage control, she answers in as firm a voice she can muster. “Nothing. I’m just—I’m just tire……” Free hand to her forehead, Solana only recalls her eyes briefly closing before her body sways into something hard and firm, arms around her, holding her up.

Roman says something, calls for someone, but Solana is solely focused on centering herself. 

A woman is suddenly standing before her with a deep, beautiful complexion similar to her father’s. However, that’s where the similarities stop, because this woman and her bold makeup is absolutely stunning. 

“You don’t look well,” is the first thing to leave the woman’s frowning mouth.She takes the back of her hand to Solana’s forehead and offers what could be perceived as a sincere, sympathetic smile. “Girl, when was the last time you had something to eat?”

Solana manages to answer, unfortunately being honest when she should probably lie. “Y-yesterday, I think. Maybe—maybe the day before.”

A deep frown falls on her face, but Roman is the first to speak. “Why the fuck haven’t you been eating?”

It’s the irritation and anger in her voice that makes her wince, but Solana can’t account for what makes her eyes dart over to where her dad and brother are watching closely. She does her best to redirect her gaze before Roman notices, but it’s a stupid thought.

He sees everything.

His expression turns dark as he mutters something she can’t hear and then directs the woman. “Naomi, take her to get something to eat.”

Naomi. That’s her name. For some reason, it just fits her. Naomi places her hand on the small of Solana’s back, gently taking her from Roman’s grasp as she starts to guide her away. “Come on. There’s definitely plenty of options to choose from.”

Meanwhile, Roman sets his sights on another goal, knowing Naomi will see to it that Solana is taken care of.

Xavier isn’t a hard man to find. He’s laughing it up with some of the other guests at the wedding who aren’t members of the Bloodline per se, more along the lines of allies. Not that Roman gives a shit. His stride is intentful and purposeful, Solo naturally flanking at his side, Xavier’s gaze falling on them with an insincere smile.

“Ahhh, the groom. Congratulations—”

“Why wasn’t she eating?” All Roman has to do is nod for the other men to disperse, and like ants, they do just that, leaving him alone with Miller and his boy.

Xavier steps forward, lowering his voice and clearly playing up the facade of a concerned, loving father. “I believe she said something about looking her best on her wedding day. And as you can see, Solana is not a small woman. She probably thought that was the best and quickest way. Poor girl.”

Roman has this thing he likes to do sometimes when people think they can get one over on him. He likes to tap into the deeply rooted part of himself that can maintain his temper, keep him from acting on his emotions, and instill some well crafted self-control. He puts all of that on the back burner in favor of something else almost equally enjoyable.

Playing with his prey.

Roman knew five minutes into the conversation with Miller that the man’s death would come at his hands. Preferably sooner rather than later. Xavier is the type of man Roman hates the most. The kind who fails in all important areas of his life and spends the rest of it making others miserable for his shortcomings. The kind of man who refuses to see the simpleton he has for a son yet seems keen on turning him into a mafia head.

It’s almost comical. The amount of delusion.

Wes also decides to answer, chin jutted, shoulders straightening. This actually is humorous to Roman, the fact this kid thinks that he comes off remotely intimidating. That shit may work on his sister, but not the Tribal Chief. 

“Solana’s a grown woman. She does what she wants.”

Xavier shoots his son a warning look. A look indicating that he can’t believe Wes would be foolish enough to challenge the man before him. “Wes….”

This only brings a smile to Roman’s face. He steps toward him, vowing in Samoan. “I’m going to enjoy killing you.” His eyes dart toward Xavier. “The both of you.”

Solo also steps forward, asking in their same native language. “Want me to handle this for you, my tribal chief?” 

Roman shakes his head, advising in a deadly calm voice. “Patience, Solo. I’m going to have my fun first.” 

Xavier is visibly irked by the conversation happening in front of him that he can’t understand. But, he does a decent job hiding that irritation. “Perhaps I should go check on her—”

Roman extends his arm, blocking the man. “No.”

Xavier pauses. “What?”

Roman is suddenly ready to get the fuck out of here. He promised his cousins that he would go the day without killing anyone, but this fucker is pushing it. “She’s my wife. I see to it that she’s fine.”

Anger flashes in his eyes, but he covers it with a tight smile. “She is my daughter.”

“The same daughter you knew was starving herself yet did nothing about it?” Roman’s retort is blunt and to the point. He may plan to play with his prey, but that doesn’t mean he can’t call this man out on his bullshit along the way.

Xavier paints on a face of shock and indignation at Roman’s accusation. “I did—"

Roman is directly to the point, advising in a way that makes it clear there’s no room for debate. “Solana is my responsibility now. Any issues she has, I will handle. Any threats she faces, I will eliminate.” One glance at Wes shows that the younger Miller is struggling to control his temper, hand clenching and unclenching at his side. The impulsive side of Roman wants the kid to try something. This will be a beating he’ll enjoy. Thoroughly. 

The kid is as insufferable as his father.

Roman refocuses himself, talking and directing his conversation to Xavier. “Solana will be unavailable for the next few weeks.”

Roman swears he can see the vein forming in the older man’s forehead. “What? Why?”

“She’s a member of the Bloodline now. She must get familiar with our ways. Any messages you need to relay to her will go through me.”

It’s partially true. But mostly, he wants to fuck with Miller. A man who obviously gets off on control needs to be humbled, Roman knows it must kill Xavier to be humbled by someone younger and more accomplished than himself.

He’s also certain Solana won’t be heartbroken by not being around her abusive piece of shit family. 

“I don’t—”

“When she wants to.” He gestures to Solo, explaining, “Solo will accompany her for any outings she has outside of the estate. That includes your home as well.” 

Roman is certain Solo, if not for his adept skill at maintaining a poker face, would be looking at him with surprise. He’s yet to discuss this with his enforcer, but Roman’s word is law. So however his cousin feels about it is irrelevant. It’s painfully obvious Solana is incapable of keeping herself safe, hence her need for protection.

Solo would be the perfect person for just that.

Xavier clears his throat, wrinkled hand adjusting, loosening his tie. “Is that really necessary?”

“As my wife, she now has a major target over her head. I won’t take any chances.” Roman’s smile is mocking. “This is your daughter, right? Surely, you don’t want me taking any chances.” Roman adds on, partially to continue to twist the knife but also because it’s the truth. “I will keep her safe.”

Regardless of how he feels about this marriage, Solana is now a part of the Bloodline. That means, just like for anyone else in his family, he’ll protect her with his life. It’s his duty to do so.

Xavier’s deep complexion is tinged red. The man is fired up. But still, he knows better than to express that rage to the man in front of him. “That is—-was—-her home. What safer place is there to be?”

Now, Roman is getting pissed off. It’s obvious by the faded bruises and pure terror that Solana exhibits in the presence of her family that she’s anything but safe with them. 

Roman steps towards him. “With me.” Tired of these games, he gets straight to the point. “These are not suggestions. They’re orders. Orders you will obey.” He searches Xavier’s face for any signs of indication that he’d be stupid enough to try something. There’s nothing there. “Am I understood?”

With a clenched jaw, Xavier answers. “Yes.”

Roman’s intense gaze burns into him, his undisputed authority surely a thorn in Miller’s side. “Yes, what?”

“Yes…..my Tribal Chief.”

Roman smiles. Pleased with his assertion of dominance, he turns away, venturing off to find his bride.

Time to get the fuck out of here.

————

Solana spends much longer in the bathroom than necessary. She halfheartedly expects for Roman to come beating on the door, demanding for her to come out and fulfill her wifely duties.

But that moment never arrives, so she values every second of time she’s granted to prepare herself for what she’s refused to think about the past two weeks.

Her wedding night.

Solana knows what’s going to happen, what has to happen, but it doesn’t do anything to help the terror she feels in every corner of her body.

The shower water blends with the tears shed at the thought of what she has to do, the act she can’t even think about without her chest tightening.

She hoped that reminding herself this wasn’t that, that this isn’t that, would help. But, it doesn’t. Because this is Roman Reigns she’s about to be intimate with.

He’s not known for being gentle in any area of his life, and bedroom activities certainly can’t be an exception. That’s when her anxiety grows even stronger, especially as she forces herself to dress in the red lingerie that was provided to her.

The silk robe included provides a slither of comfort, and she makes sure to tie it so it covers as much of her body as possible. A silly act considering Roman will rip it off, along with everything else, the moment he gets her onto the bed. 

It’s only when she’s certain she’s stretched out every bit of patience this man is capable of offering that Solana decides she needs to leave the bathroom. Upsetting him is the last thing she wants to do.

So without an ounce of hope that anything moving forward will be remotely good, Solana hits the light switch and opens the door.

She finds Roman sitting almost slouched in his chair located in the corner of the room. He’s lazily scrolling on his phone when his eyes lift and land on her. She stills. There’s a brief second of a delay when he hits the button on the side of the phone and stands up. 

Solana refuses to focus too much on the fact that he’s about as covered up as she is, wearing only boxers.

Because of his size, it seems he’s across the room directly in front of her in a matter of seconds. Eyes taking her in from top to bottom, he asks, “you good?”

Far from it. 

Regardless, Solana nods.

If only that worked for the head of the table.

She gasps quietly when he brings his hand to her chin, forcing her to look up at him. “I don’t do non-verbals.” His eyes search her face for something she can’t identify. “Words.”

Blinking, she answers with a low, “y–yes.”

He pauses and then demands, “lay down on the bed.”

Solana licks her lips and makes her feet move over to the mattress, climbing on top and clenching her eyes shut as she lays her head back on the pillow.

Her fingers mess with the material of her robe, trying to distract herself from the sound and feel of him climbing on the bed. She doesn’t need to be looking to know he’s above her, intense eyes probably studying her.

His deep voice sounds at the same time she feels his finger glaze across her clavicle. “It’s just sex.”

If only that was true. 

Still, she manages to nod, eyes and mouth snapped shut.

Solana takes in a deep breath that makes her stomach cave when Roman��s lips are pressed against the soft skin of her jawline, moving downward at a tantalizingly slow pace at the same moment his hands move to her robe. 

She releases another shaky breath as her robe comes undone, revealing so much skin, so much of her she’d do anything to keep hidden away.

A thin sheen of sweat is starting to form all over her body. The room is suddenly much hotter than she remembers. There’s difficulty paying attention to what’s happening because her mind is taken to another place, another time.

A much much darker place and time. 

And suddenly, she’s not in Roman’s bed. It’s not him hovering over her, not his mouth on her neck or his hands on her body.

It’s theirs.

His stench is strong and almost sour, breath tinged with alcohol. “You’ve got some fire in you, girl.” A sinister smile reveals yellowish teeth contrasted against pale, dehydrated skin. “But, I like it when they fight back.” His strong fist connects with her jaw, forcing her head to the side and nearly knocking her unconscious. “Rob, come hold her down for me.”

Solana tries her best to stop it, tries to keep it at bay, tries to do what she’s never been able to do prior to this moment but somehow thinks this will be different. It’s a stupid thought, because moments later, she’s hyperventilating, her body feeling like it’s on fire. 

“No!” 

With strength she didn’t know she possessed, Solana shoves them, Roman, whoever, off of her, scrambling to climb off the bed. She’s standing in the middle of the room, doubled over as the demons overcome her.

Hand to her chest, she starts clawing at her neck. 

Deep down, she knew this is what would happen, knew that she’d fall apart the second he started to touch her. 

What she didn’t expect was a set of firm, calloused hands forcing her upright, carefully holding her arms away from her neck where she’s certain she just drew blood. And she definitely doesn’t expect Roman’s intense gaze on her, studying her with what one might consider to be concern.

But, Solana is too caught up in her panic attack to know for certain if it’s concern or not as she realizes that he’s talking to her.

His voice is distant but eventually travels close enough where she can make out words. “Breathe.” She’s still gasping for breath, trying to find that place of regulation as he continues to speak to her in an almost soothing manner. But, that can’t be possible. This is Roman fucking Reigns. Nothing about him is soothing. 

“Look around the room. Tell me five things you see.” 

Solana doesn’t know how, why, or even where she finds the wherewithal to be present for his directions, but she is. She’s even able to follow through. Eyes moving around the room, the first thing she lands on are the double doors leading to the balcony.

With speech still almost an impossible thing, she lifts her arm and points in that direction. 

He doesn’t even turn to see what she’s pointing at. “Keep going.”

Confused but also not wanting to make things worse by being disobedient, she scans the room, settling on the dresser. Solana points again.

Roman’s eyes bounce from her eyes to her mouth. “Three more.”

At some point in this random exercise, Solana’s breathing began to regulate, so much so that instead of pointing to the chair in the corner of the room, she whispers, “the c-chair.”

His voice grows seemingly softer. “Two.”

The next thing to catch her attention is the painting on the wall, and it’s after she does so, Roman provides her with a reminder that she still has one more. And when she points to the ceiling fan, he provides another set of directions, tasking her to identify four things she can touch.

She struggles initially, realizing she can use herself, going on and identifying several and actually feeling various parts of herself, like her hair and robe. 

And when she’s asked about three things she can hear, it’s only then that she realizes something she’d missed in the midst of following his guidance. 

She realizes that she can breathe.

Solana can actually breathe. That anchor isn’t on her chest, weighing her down to a state of unconsciousness, that heat that made her feel like flames were lapping at her body is extinguished. 

She almost….she almost feels calm. 

While panic was the dominant emotion not even 10 minutes prior, confusion is the primary emotion now. 

And it's with partial confusion and partial recognition that she acknowledges softly, “I’m okay…”

He doesn’t say anything, and it’s in that brief time of silence that Solana tries to process what just happened. Having suffered from panic attacks since she was a child, she’s never been able to calm herself down, never experienced one as short as this one. 

But he….he just changed that. He just helped her through it.

Shaking her head, she stammers, “how….how did you—”

Solana didn’t realize he was still holding her forearms until she looks down. Roman suddenly jerks and steps away from her, forcing her arms back at her side. 

Instantly, she’s contrite. He seems….disturbed. Triggered, almost. “I’m sor—”

“Quiet.” Solana watches with just as much confusion as he moves across the room, dressing himself, back towards her, like he’s physically unable to look at her. There’s a level of aggression in his movement, a wave of irritation radiating off his large being. “Why—why are you….”

She can’t bring herself to finish her sentence, but she definitely thinks it.

She wants to know why he’s leaving, even if it should be painfully obvious.

Truthfully, Solana doesn’t quite understand why she’s suddenly wondering why he’s leaving. It’s obvious she can’t do what needs to be done. More importantly, she doesn’t want to. Him leaving her alone should be sweet relief.

But it can’t be sweet relief because while it may fix one issue, several others are created.

She was told not to upset him.

He’s upset.

She was told to please him.

He’s far from pleased.

She was told to do whatever he asked, and she’s done the opposite of that.

So far, Solana is failing. She’s failing miserably, and that can only lead to one grisly outcome. 

“Where are you going?” Asking while holding her robe closed over her body, she weakly reminds, even if it kills her to do so. “We—we have to—”

“You think I’m dealing with that shit again?” Roman snaps, finally turning to look at her. “I can’t even fucking touch you without you having a nervous breakdown.”

His words, while true, leave a sting. It’s also a bit confusing. How is this the same man who only minutes ago talked her through her panic attack with such patience and compassion.

She suddenly feels even more embarrassed and stupid.

“But, we’re—”

“I can get pussy anywhere, preferably without the headache of dealing with someone clearly unstable.” Solana still isn’t quite sure how to take his sudden change in demeanor. Roman finishes dressing and curtly informs, “the room on the end of the hall on the right is yours. Don’t still be in mine by the time I get back.”

“When are you—” The sound of his heavy double bedroom doors slamming in the wake of his exit prematurely silences her question. 

It’s only when she’s certain that she’s alone that Solana breaks down again.

He’s upset.

She’s upset him.

Nothing ever good ever came out of an angry man. Not for her, at least.

Her mind creates and races with a million and one thoughts regarding not about where he’s going but what will happen when he’s returned. She wants to believe he’s going somewhere to work off his anger, but experience has proven she’s the way that men work off their anger.

Roman indicated that day in the library that he wouldn’t put his hands on her, and while she wanted to believe he was being honest, this was also before she pulled this. He has every right to be upset, but that anger and not knowing what will come from it….it terrifies her.

It terrifies the shit out of her.

Falling to the floor, legs against her chest, she sobs into her legs, one thought and only one thought on her mind now.

What the hell did I get myself into?

[partially-controlled-chaos]

Technically speaking I assume Halsin doesn’t join your party while exploring the Underdark because he wasn’t originally a permanent companion. So it’s probably just a left over mechanic from that. However, I like to headcanon that he prefers to stay in camp because he’s secretly afraid of venturing back into the Underdark.

And I don’t mean it in a “oh he’s afraid of the dark or afraid of fighting what’s lurking down there”, but I mean it in a way that’s relating to his trauma in the Underdark. Because at that point we’ve seen him fight against goblins and, depending on your choice to bring him along, against the goblin leaders. He’s mentioned that he’ll kill when necessary, it’s just not the preferable choice. And when you get to the shadow curse, sure he’s not exactly happy about venturing into darkness and shadows, but it doesn’t keep him from walking head first into the Shadowfell portal to find Thaniel or going with you to fine Oliver.

But I like to think that he doesn’t join you while adventuring out in the Underdark because that’s the one thing that’s actually terrifying to him. He makes the comment that he doesn’t know what happened to the Matron and Patron of the house that kept him captive when he tells you about his history with the area. So really for all he knows, and really for the player, they could potentially still be somewhere in the Underdark. Like they could have somehow survived the attack and retreated to the shadows. And even if they’re not and they are truly dead, who’s to say there isn’t the possibility he could be recaptured and start the cycle all over again. And I could see this being heightened considering he was just freed from a goblin camp.

An offhand comment with the drow siblings in Act 3 hints that Halsin is well known in the Underdark as being able to turn into a bear. And given just how busy he was with the Grove he surely didn’t have time to return to the Underdark to explore and show to the residents there that he can wildshape. And I very seriously doubt he goes to Baldur’s Gate and do the same thing. So, like others have mentioned, I like to assume he got that reputation while being captive and his captors would brag to others that they have a surface dweller that can turn into another creature. It makes him unique and an oddity. And could make him being seen as something to collect now that his previous “owners” are gone in some way. He could be seen as a target if he were to go back. I’d like to think it’s a very real fear that he could have.

And yes, he will go into the Underdark when you make camp because you can see and interact with him, but he won’t join your party to go out and explore. So with my headcanon that he’s afraid to return there, I also like to think that he agrees to go into the Underdark but won’t go out because he feels safe at camp. Not everyone goes out with the player as they do their thing in the Underdark, given that you can only have 4 members at a time, so it leaves at least 3 camp members with him at all times. There’s people there that can fight with him if it comes to it.

So even by going into the Underdark, he’s not alone like he was last time. So in the event someone does try to stop by and scoop him back into captivity, either his previous captors or someone completely different, he has allies there with him and who will protect him. Not because he can’t protect himself, but someone that would fight to keep him from being captured again. He’s in an unsafe and potentially triggering space, but at least in the camp he’s safe.

And yes, he is the one who brought up the Underdark to begin with, but he does give an alternative route to the player and even admits that the Underdark, while dangerous, is the preferable route.

And I know he still won’t join the party until after Thaniel has been plucked from the Shadowfell, but he sets off to Thaniel almost immediately once you get to the shadow lands and won’t join until he knows he’s safe. So with that he’s all of a sudden “in the field” instead of just hanging around camp, I just like to think it’s because he’s out of a bad area and can focus on what’s important.

I’ve probably put WAY too much thought into this, but it’s just my own little headcanon for Halsin staying in your camp for the remainder of Act 1.

[litnerdwrites]

Feyre betrayed Nesta in the worst way...

It's a common stance that many people, regardless of if they love or hate Nesta/Rhys/the IC, seem to have, but I don't think it is. Was Nesta complacent in keeping it from her since she found out? Yes. Was that wrong of her? Yes again. Was blurting it out the way that she did also not ideal, to put it mildly? Absolutely yes. But was it out of malice? No.

And Nesta didn't care. Couldn't think around the roaring. 'Have any of them told you, their respected High lady, that the babe in your womb will kill you?' Amren barked, 'Shut your mouth!' But her order was confirmation enough. Face paling, Feyre whispered again, 'What do you mean?' 'The wings,' Nesta seethed. 'The boy's Illyrian wings will get stuck in your Fae body during the labour, and it will kill you both.'

The idea that this was all said in malice just never sat right to me, and after scrolling through some comments on a video discussing the matter, the pieces finally clicked into place. First, let's talk about the hike, though.

Her breakdown after that hike wasn't a moment of catharsis and letting walls down. It was a weeks worth of exhaustion, dehydration and depression that resulted in Nesta giving in to the torture she was put through just to end it. It was a pivotal moment in the IC's efforts to break and then reconstruct her to their liking, or rather, to Feyre's liking. However, a vital stepping stone in reaching this point would be for them to gaslight and isolate her until she truly had no one. I mentioned before that I didn't think anyone in the NC would chose Nesta, and this is an example of why I believe that.

Nesta snarled, but Feyre stepped between them, hands raised. 'This conversation ends now. Nesta, go back to the House. Amren, you...' She hesitated, as if considering the wisdom of ordering Amren around. Feyre finished carefully, 'You stay here.'

Nesta is clearly upset and hurting and Feyre disregards that entierly, not even offering to discuss or find out why Nesta is hurt or feeling the way she is. Feyre didn't bother to try and understand Nesta before and she isn't bothering now. Either Feyre assumes she knows what Nesta is thinking/ feeling, or she just doesn't care. She dismisses her, telling her to go back to her prison, disregarding Nesta's choices, autonomy and opinions again.

If I recall right, it was Amren who informed Nesta that she was free to go where she wanted if she made it down the ten thousand steps. Feyre wouldn't order Amren, even to stand up for her sister, but happily go against Amren's own words to punish Nesta? Hypocrisy at it's finest.

All of this leads to one outcome: Nesta feeling trapped. Cornered and without a single ally in the whorld who would defend her properly. Isolated from anyone who'd be willing to treat her with decency, while believing she doesn't even deserve the basics of kindness. It leaves Nesta more prone to actually going through with committing suicide, since the behaviour of these people, mixed with her own self hatred, sets a precedent for how Nesta believe she'd be treated.

We see this when Nesta first meets Emerie, thinking to herself that 'the invitations would stop' when Emerie learned what nesta was really like. Or at least what Nesta perceived herself to be like.

Even though Nesta has Emerie and Gwyn, she has no reason to think, based on what brainwashing the IC has already done coupled with her self deprecating mindset, that they wouldn't side with the IC. This isn't to say Emerie and Gwyn are like the IC by any means. I think they're great friends to Nesta, and if that changes or not later on is more so up to SJM and her writing, rather than their characterisation. It's the reality that the IC have created for Nesta through abuse, gaslighting and borderline torture that's wound up feeding in to Nesta's already existing trauma and self worth that has lead to her becoming isolated this way.

And Nesta didn't care. Couldn't think around the roaring. 'Have any of them told you, their respected High lady, that the babe in your womb will kill you?'

The comment on the video I saw explained that, while Nesta was angry when saying this, she wasn't trying to hurt Feyre or take her anger out on anyone. Nesta was angry because she wasn't told that she made a new trove. She was angry that these people had the audacity to vote on her life, and take bodily autonomy from her. She was angry that Feyre wasn't acknowledging or even trying to understand how Nesta was feeling. She was angry that she was treated like the bad guy- or more like a petulant child in this scene, I suppose- and had her feelings dismissed again.

Dismissed the way her mother/grandmother used to when she was trained. The way her father did when he refused to hunt. The way the Mortal Queens did when Nesta merely asked them to save her people. The way Feyre did when she asked for Nesta's help again, and again, and again during the war, only for it to never be enough in the eyes of other. The way that Elain did when she got upset at Nesta time and time again for how she handled her trauma or how she wasn't over her trauma or how Nesta tried to protect her. The way Cassian dismissed her feelings when he got mad at her for having an opinion of Rhysand.

Nesta was angry. She had every right to be angry. Most people would be angry, and alone, and if they already had suicidal thoughts like Nesta, having been abandoned by everybody while gaslit into thinking it was fine, and then only called upon to be used for the benefit of others while the snickered behind her back and dismissed her again.

As the commenter put it; She was trying to find someone who would relate to her anger. Nesta wanted an ally, someone who wouldn't leave her alone. Someone to be by her side and, perhaps subconsciously, thought that Feyre, who'd hunted for them and helped look after them for years, would chose Nesta's side.

The parallels between Nesta and Feyre's situation here are clear, and I think Nesta understood that when she said what she said. I think that Feyre believing Nesta said it to hurt her was a gross misunderstanding on her part, but it's not like she ever asked Nesta how she felt. Now that I think about it, for all that Feyre talks about Nesta feeling too much, and taking everything to heart, she never once confirms with Nesta. Never asks how Nesta feels.

Since coming to the Night Court, Nesta's feelings and traumas have been twisted and spoken about only in relation to how Feyre feels.

'Do you know how embarrassed I was when we got the bill this morning and my friends-my family- had to hear all about it?'

The intervention began, not because of Nesta doing something to risk hurting herself, but because Feyre was embarrassed and started crying into her breakfast.

'All of it pains me… It pains me that Nesta has become… this. It pains me that she and Feyre are always at each other’s throats. It pains me that Feyre hurts over it, and I know Nesta does, too.'

Cassian is pained, not because Nesta is suffering so greatly that she isolated herself for her own sisters (who didn't really act like sisters between the end of ACOWAR to... well now, so it's understandable), or because Nesta felt her only reprieve from her pain was in sex and alcohol, but because Feyre hurts over it. He knows Nesta does (but he doesn't know she hates fire? Or is uncomfortable at their social gatherings, since in ACOFS he somehow hoped she wouldn't take the bribe money and say she enjoyed their solstice party??? Because...Why?) But, of course, it's Feyre's feelings on the matter that are prioritised.

'Nesta is Nesta. She does what she wants, even if it kills her sister.'

Rhysand, not that I expect much from him, honestly, is utpse, not because he can't find a way to help Nesta. Not because his court is actively cruel to Nesta, hell, he joins in. Not because Nesta is in pain, in no small part because of him and his court. Not even because Nesta is spending his money. Because she's upsetting Feyre. Because, god forbid, Nesta have trauma and handle it in a way that doesn't make his wife happy.

Feyre tells others how she thinks Nesta feels, the others go with it, or just come to their own conclusions, not sure which is worse, but nobody stops to consider how she feels. Feyre feeling like Nesta said it to hurt her, I think, is simply proof that she doesn't understand Nesta.

Let me ask you, if you found out you were lied to in a way that affects your ability to make informed decisions regarding your own body, by someone you were supposed to trust, and who should've had your back, and that your own sibling has been betrayed by the same people in a very similar, if not identical way, and yet you're the one being turned into the bad guy, and dismissed, would that not make you feel isolated and frustrated?

It's understandable that Nesta tried, either consciously or subconsciously, feel less alone by appealing to common ground to find an ally. Nesta mentions at the end of ACOSF that she believes Feyre loved her from the start, and after those years in the cabin, I think Nesta sees Feyre as someone reliable.

This scene doesn't feels like Nesta trying to hurt Feyre. It feels like Nesta trying to reach out to the one person she could rely on; Feyre. Her mother was abusive, her father was a deadbeat, Elain was her ward, and the IC hate her.

'Nesta studied me for a long moment. And then she said with equal quiet, though we could all hear, “I can’t get into a bathtub, anymore. I have to use buckets.” I hadn’t known—hadn’t even thought that bathing, submerging water…'

Amren tells Cassian to keep reaching out his hand, even though Nesta has reached out her own time and time again. Esspecially to Feyre, as she was the one Nesta relied on before. Possibly even the only person Nesta has ever relied on, and Fyre was the one she was trying to rely on now.

Nesta relied on Feyre, and needed to rely on her again. To have strength together, in a situation where they both lost their choices and autonomy to Rhysand and his (cause don't pretend it's even slightly Feyre's) IC.

It may have been wrong to say it in that way, at that time, under those circumstances, but this, to me, feels like Nesta's way of reaching out her own hand only to be misunderstood, punished, and dismissed again. And again. And again.

In a way, I think Feyre might have, unintentionally, betrayed Nesta in a worse way than Elain ever has. Elain was a ward. Almost like a child, to Nesta. They were never on equal footing. Moreover, Nesta was never punished if she upset Elain, no that she should be, or if Elain misunderstood her. Nesta never relied on Elain the way she relied on Feyre. She never trusted or had faith in Elain, the way she clearly trusted Feyre. She had thought she'd found an ally, with similar pain, in Feyre, in the moments she spilled the secret, but Feyre didn't care.

When I was reading the scene where Cassian told Feyre his idea to take Nesta on a punishment hike, she sounded all too gleeful when telling him how miserable Nesta would be. That, in my opinion, is the worst betrayal of all.