#hopefully the lighting looks??? good?? I cannot tell

[threepoint14art]

dibujillo de la canción de Owynn

se ve muy raro sin los lentesss

[entitled-fangirl]

Sweet nephew.

Gwayne Hightower x wife!reader; One-sided love from Aemond

Summary: Gwayne's wife is the epitome of everything Aemond was never given as a child- a sweet voice, a caring hand, and a comforting presence. He grows a love for her, and Gwayne's pissed.

A/n: This is unlike anything I've ever written and I have mixed emotions but oh well. It's the forced smile in the Gwayne gif for me

Masterlist

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"Hello, sweet nephew."

Aemond's attention immediately shifted to his aunt. 

Y/n stepped into the library, moving to Aemond's side. Her hand reached out and ran through his hair, "What are you reading?"

"Mere histories, dear aunt."

"You've always been well studied, my prince."

He leaned back to look at her. "Did mother send you?"

She let out a playful scoff, "Am I just a mere raven to you?"

"No," he quickly defended. 

"No," she smiled. "Your mother did not send me. I came to borrow a book."

He stood, "Allow me to help you."

"No need, Aemond. I can find it," she offered.

"Please, Lady Hightower. Let me do this."

She nodded, "That would be nice."

As he stood and walked around one of the many shelves. "Tell me about Old Town."

"It is without change. Your brother has been wonderful."

"And Gwayne?"

She smiled, "Gwayne has always been wonderful."

He didn't miss the light in her eyes, "And how long do you plan to stay?"

She shrugged lightly, "As long as my husband needs me here."

"The war could last years. Old Town will suffer without you two."

"He may send me home before then. My father-by-law, excuse me, your grandsire, should be there by now for Daeron."

Aemond reached up, grabbing one of the books for his aunt, handing it to her, "Hopefully so."

She took it, opening the cover to the first page, "This will do. Thank you, nephew."

"Of course."

She closed the book and held it in the crook of her arm, "I shall see you at supper then?"

Aemond hummed, "Yes."

She smiled and pushed herself to her tip-toes, kissing his forehead.

The prince watched her walk away, a curious look coming across his face.

…

"Ser Gwayne," a steady voice uttered over the courtyard.

Gwayne turned, seeing the Prince confidently moving towards him. "My prince. How many I be of assistance?"

Aemond walked up to his uncle, "I dare ask for a bit of your wisdom."

Gwayne's brow quirked up in surprise, "I see."

He watched as Aemond's eye moved to the other side of the courtyard, admiring Gwayne's wife.

There she sat on her knees, playing with her and Gwayne's young son.

A protective feeling came over the man and he was eager to get the attention away from her, "What was it you needed exactly, my prince?"

Aemond's eye slowly snapped back to Gwayne. "How did you do it?"

"Do what?"

The two men looked back to the woman.

Y/n let out a laugh as her son jumped into her arms, knocking her over. 

"You're happily married, dear uncle."

"I am."

Aemond shifted his weight to his other leg, "How?"

Gwayne's brows lifted as he considers the man's question, "My wife is a copy of the Mother. I have been truly blessed to have her at my side."

He noticed how his nephew's confusion never lifted, so he continued to speak. "I married for love, my prince. Not all men have that honor."

"No, they don't," Aemond said. "However, it was no disgrace for you to marry her."

"Never," he agreed. "She's from a noble house."

"She loves you greatly."

Gwayne nodded, "Indeed." He finally had enough, "You wish to marry for love, Prince Aemond? Is that it?"

Aemond hummed, "Something of that sort."

"Gwayne?" Her voice interrupted.

The two men turned to her as she approached them. 

Gwayne smiled and reached out to take his son in his arms, "What timing, dear wife. The prince was asking how I've gotten you all to myself." He leaned down at kissed her cheek before turning his attention to his son. "You've been good for your mother, yes?"

Their son giggled and shook his head.

Gwayne feigned shock. "No? Well, we cannot have that. Your mother is a saint." 

She held her arms out, "It's time for his studies."

Gwayne held his son close. "I'll take him myself. Perhaps you can keep the Prince company until I return, hmm?"

Her eyes flickered between the two men. "Oh. Of course. If… If that is alright with our nephew."

Both Hightowers stared at him.

Aemond tilted his head side to side before a smirk came across his face. "I believe that shall be just fine."

Gwayne reached his free hand out to his wife's chin, forcing her to look up at him. "I'll return in a matter of minutes, dear wife."

With that, he let go of her and began to walk his son into the Keep.

They watched him disappear and an awkward silence permeated the air.

"I imagine," she finally said, "that this war has been unkind to you thus far."

Aemond was a bit thrown off by her kind thought but he couldn't help the scoff under his breath, "They seem to blame me for its beginning."

Her brows came together, "Yes, I heard of what happened. I can't imagine the guilt you felt…" she paused. "Still feel, I assume."

Aemond's expression grew to confusion. "You don't seem angry."

She shrugged and looked up at him sweetly. "I know you, Aemond. You wouldn't do that. You didn't mean to."

That look in her eyes broke something in him. The tough swordsman felt an oncoming of tears pricking at his eye.

She was understanding a part of him that no one else had dared try to.

"Oh, Aemond," she cooed at the sight of his watery eye. She reached up and caressed his cheek. "Every great warrior must have emotion. That's all that differentiates them from animals. And you, Aemond Targaryen," she spoke with assurance, "Are no animal. Let your tears fall, for I hold no judgment of you."

When they indeed began to fall, she noticed the deep blush in his cheeks due to the embarrassment of crying in the courtyard. She looked around and tugged his hand, pulling him to a corner more hidden away from prying eyes.

Once there, he pulled her against him and weeped into her shoulder. It was a strange sight to see the tall stern prince weep against his small aunt.

But regardless, she held him steadfast, softly cooing and running her hands through his hair as you would a child.

He clawed at the fabric of her dress, and soon his weeping finally coming to a stop.

He sniffled at the two dared not move.

She was worried of what he would do next. Would he push her away and reclaim his harsh exterior or would he let it fade into the background?

His head lifted just barely and a tension rose. Their faces were now inches apart.

She was just now aware of the implications of their position and a worried expression crossed her face. 

She took a step back just as Aemond leaned further in to try to kiss her, resulting in the gap staying between them.

They both paused with surprised expressions. "Aemond, I'm not-"

"-Why?"

She hummed, a pattern that Aemond has picked up from her. "You're my nephew. I love you, yes, but not in that way."

His jaw set harshly. "Is that not what love is?"

"No. No, no, no. It's not always, Aemond. You're a wonderful nephew, but that is what you'll stay. I am beyond content with my husband."

His voice rose, "Then why do all of this? Why make me vulnerable? Does it make you feel powerful?" He scoffed.

Gwayne returned just then, with worse timing than ever. In all honestly, he had been standing in the courtyard for a while, witnessing with a cautious eye. He could read the silver-haired dragon rider better than most. 

But only when Aemond made a move on his wife, did Gwayne interfere, running across the yard with a fierce anger as red as his hair.

He wrapped an arm around her waist, "Dear nephew, you've kept her safe for me, I see." The smile on his face was very forced, but he was good at hiding it.

Aemond's eye looked between the two. "I did."

"Wonderful. Let us go, woman."

Gwayne practically drug her from the courtyard. 

Once through the doors, he hissed. "What happened out there?"

She was still dumbfounded by the entire situation. "I… I'm not sure. I didn't mean to, I promise you."

He rubbed his hands up and down her biceps as a sigh fell from his lips. "I know," he spoke softly. "I shouldn't be angry with you. I just… I can't stand seeing the way he was looking at you."

"The way he looked at me…?"

"It's the way I look at you. I don't want another man to ever look at you that way. I'm a jealous creature, my love."

"I am truly sorry, Gwayne. I'll fix this."

He shook his head, "You have no faults in this. Perhaps a talk with his uncle would help."

She shook her head and gripped his tunic. "No, no. That might anger him more."

Gwayne sighed again. "We'll handle it together. Yes?"

She nodded. "Yes. That's generous." She kissed his cheek. "Thank you, my love."

…

He tried to stay true to that promise until he saw his sister. 

"You must control your own son!" He sneered through his teeth as he slammed the door behind him. "I'm tired of the rest of us being trotted upon like shit in a barn!"

"Gwayne, please," Alicent sighed. He hated how calm she was, but that was always her demeanor. She held a hand to her forehead. "Whatever Aegon has done, I can fix. Just let-"

"Not that one." He wanted to tear his hair out in frustration but he knew his wife would scold him for doing so. She loved his hair so much.

A bit of relief flooded over Alicent. "Oh." That then turned to more panic, realizing that while Aegon's problems were often, foolish, and naive, Aemond's were few, calculated, and always had dire effects. 

"Your son has a love for my wife," Gwayne explained. "And I won't stand for it."

"What are you talking about?" Alicent asked in confusion.

"Aemond has taken advantage of my wife's kindness. He practically forced himself upon her in the courtyard after manipulating her into comforting him." He ran a hand through his hair. "It disgusts me."

"Gwayne, I'm sure this is a misunderstanding," she said with a forced smile. "Perhaps Y/n… led him on a bit."

His eyes almost came out of his head. For being a relatively calm man, he was growing angrier by the moment. "Do not say that again. My wife is a saint. You'll do well to remember that. If another move is made to her, you'll have no help in battle from this Hightower."

His words were final, a full threat she knew he'd hold to. Gwayne had a flair for dramatics, but threats and promises, no matter how outlandish, he stayed true to. 

"What would you have me do?" Alicent asked him. Having a queen ask for council from a knight was a rare sight.

"Just…" He cursed under his breath and placed his hands on his hips. "Maybe ask yourself why he'd do such a thing."

"What are you implying, Gwayne?"

"My wife would not raise our son to do such a thing to a woman. Makes me wonder what you've done all these years."

Gwayne was a fierce protector, often doing so for his sister. But this was his last straw, and everyone was on the metaphorical chopping block in his mind.

…

During Gwayne's talk with his dear sister, Y/n had crept up to Aemond's chambers in hopes of apologizing. 

She knocked thrice and heard nothing. 

Pushing the door firmly, she saw Aemond curled up on his bed, still in his riding gear and his hair messy against the furs.

"Nephew?"

He shot up, his eye wide in realization, though puffy from tears that no one was supposed to see. Immediately embarrassment flooded his entire soul. "Come to gloat?" His hoarse voice echoed through the room.

"Hardly. I feel awful."

"I thought you'd be like her. Better, even," he whispered, though she was sure it was meant to be kept to himself, "but you're not like her at all."

 "Who, sweet nephew?"

His eye widened once again, his entire body seemingly caving in on itself like a defense. He was running out of ways to shut her out. He said nothing.

"My mother was the most caring woman I knew," she began to explain in the silence. "She only wanted the best for her children, and she always had such a steady hand. It was so comforting." She picked at her nails, a habit she caught from one of the Hightowers. "I told myself I wanted to be just like her. Forgive me if my efforts to be comforting came across in a misleading fashion."

"Is that not what a wife does for her husband, though?" His vulnerable voice asked.

"Well, yes. But it's different," she explained. "I treat my husband and my son very differently."

"How?"

"Uh," she was unprepared to answer this question. "I'm responsible for teaching my son the right ways to live. To have him grow to be a great Hightower. But Gwayne is a man grown. I can't teach him things that he already knows. Nor should I have to."

"But you don't tell your son what to do," he pointed out.

"No," she said as if ridiculous. "He should get to explore the world and find things for himself. I only help him when he needs it."

"Mother has never done that."

Y/n's face paled. Suddenly everything was clicking into place.

"Aemond, your mother is surrounded by Targaryens with great dragons as a queen with no power. It's a scary thought for her. She doesn't know how to help you."

"But she does not try!" He exclaimed in frustration. 

She let out a breath. "Perhaps so. But she does love you. In her own strange way." She brushes over his cheek. "You are a strong man yet, Aemond. And you'll have a wife soon enough."

"Just not you," he manages through a teary eye.

"No," she gives a small smile. "Not me."

He takes her hand from his cheek, giving a kiss to her knuckles. He took his time, truly savoring the soft skin of his dearest aunt. "May you and my uncle live full lives, by the will of the Seven."

…

She moved from the room, shutting the door behind her. She stepped down the corridor, almost running into her husband.

Gwayne grabbed her waist. "I've decided to speak to the prince."

Her hands rested on his chest. "There's no need. It has been handled."

"Handled?" He questioned. "How so?"

She shrugged lightly. "He... apologized."

Gwayne's brow furrowed. "Did he? That's… kind."

"Like a true gentleman," she added. No one really needed to know of his tears. "Where's our boy?" 

"Should be done with his studies soon. We still have time though."

"Time for what?"

He tipped her head up to look at him. "I fear I don't admire my wife as much as I should."

"You know you do."

"No," he bent down and kissed her. "If I worshipped you every day, it still would not be enough. You're sought after by many in the Realm, it seems." He brushed her hair behind her ear. "But me, most of all."

"And you have me."

"Aye. That I do."

……………………………………………

[obae-me]

How He Kisses

Hey there, so things are...kinda awful right now, and while I don't want to fully distract myself from my other works I'm chipping away at, I did want to post something a bit short and sweet to hopefully- well, saying "to make everyone feel better" feels sort of self-inflated, but if I can make everyone stop and think about something happy for just one second, that's more than I can ask for. I have no idea how similar this is to my hug headcanon ones. Not really checked for too many errors, this was all kind of done in the spur of the moment, but I don't think that matters too much.

Lucifer

Proper and slow. He likes being patient, kissing you once before pulling back to look at your face. He feels a sense of Pride when he can see the effect he has on you, knowing that he can comfort you like this. He's a perfectionist, he likes the whole experience to be included. That's why he likes to do it more often when you two are alone, knowing he has the freedom to do whatever it takes to make this moment perfect. Whether it's music, a lit fireplace, over a dinner, under the comfort of a blanket, everything is set up for you. To show his love for you, nothing less than high quality will be accepted. The kiss is simply the bow that ties everything together. And he'll take his time to relish in this moment with you.

Mammon

Fervent and greedy. He cannot contain his love for you. Even around his brothers, he lets it slip. So when you find yourselves alone, it's like pulling the lid off a stuffed container. Your eyelids, your ears, your forehead, cheeks, chin, lips, none of them shall be spared in his spree. It's almost frantic, as if he doesn't get as many now, he'll never have them again. He craves all of you, and he wants to be only yours in equal measure. Love, soul, attention, all of it is for you. It's as if he has to make up the seconds lost whenever you're apart. He never wants it to end. He hardly breathes. Every one is just as good as the last, and he is focused on making it just as wonderful an experience for you as well. After all, he wants you to be greedy too. Tell him your every desire.

Levi

Eager and grateful. Push past the anxiousness and the self-doubt, and you find a Levi that adores you more than anything. Like an ultra rare drop he can't get anywhere else. If he can stand in line for days for something he wants, he will stand with you till the end of time. His kisses show that, how deeply in love he is for you. Given the chance, he has the confidence to prove to you how special you are to him. Every kiss gets him more excited than the last, and in turn, he's determined to do whatever it takes to make you feel just as joyous as he is in these moments. Thank you for being here with him, your presence means more to him than you currently know, and he'll spare no effort to start showing you that.

Satan

Meek and curious. Whether or not it is considered if he's kissed someone before, every time he kisses you, it feels like the first time. He almost always has a distant look on his face, as if he's thinking about a million other things at the same time, and every million of those thoughts is something about you. He learns something new every time and commits it to memory. Which way your head naturally tilts, where you prefer his hands to be, how many you like, how long they take, he's going to remember them all. Well, he says that, but oftentimes its as if his mind wipes after every kiss. It's hard to think during those moments. But he's not worried about it, that just means he'll have to keep going. He has no plans to leave your side anytime soon after all.

Asmo

Uplifting and addictive. He likes to kiss for every occasion, every emotion. Happy? Kiss. Excited? Kiss? Sad? He says he saves his best kisses for those moments especially. Maybe it's shared love that makes his kisses almost tingle, or maybe its some kind of magic. It makes you feel light. And he'll give you as many as you want. He adores kissing you, not able to get enough of it. It's as though he's almost on clockwork, having to give you an embrace at perfect intervals throughout the day. He can't get enough of you, and he can't help but get giddy at the thought of running to your side and letting you know exactly just how much he loves you.

Beel

Warm and encompassing. Gluttony often gets mixed up with Greed, but this is one of those instances where the differences are clear. Every kiss is slow, and feels as if it lasts several lifetimes. It's as if he's drinking you in, savoring this moment in it's entirety. Of course he'll come in for seconds, and thirds, and fourths, but it comes steadily. Something about his kisses fills you with a warmth that's hard to describe, similar to soup or a hot beverage seeping through every part of your body to endure the coldest of days. It makes your toes curl like they're in warm socks. It makes you feel as if nothing can get to you. And with him around, nothing will.

Belphie

Soft and persistent. No amount of drowsiness can stop him. Even if he's asleep, the demon that will normally sleep like the dead will wake himself up and make sure to give you a kiss. They're so gentle, and it's difficult to tell if its tied to his personality, or if he's afraid of hurting you. Sometimes they're as light as a feather, almost tickling you. If you're falling asleep, they'll never wake you, only guiding you towards sweeter dreams. With every movement you make, you'll almost recognize the sensation of his kisses. They're like a promise, an assurance, that even in the deepest darkest of dreams, he's right there. They always lull you into a sense of peace.

[scftpcws]

Star Crossed| Armando Aretas | Teaser

✩Description: Requested by @nelo0wesker : “Enemies to lovers Armando X reader. Readers in the mafia while Armando in the cartel”

✩ Pairing : Armando Aretas x Fem!reader

✩ Genre : Dark Mafia Romance

✩ Warnings: 17+ (smut in later chapters, Violence, Drug usage, Gang Violence, Sexual/Dark themes, Child endangerment, source accurate violence, bad language, death, my awful spelling and grammar, my terrible Spanish translations (i’m a little rusty), made up characters

✩ Fandom: Bad Boys

✩ Taglist : @nelo0wesker @twinklestarslight @mzbeautii96 @geneziesm @mcotton0928 @omg-mymelaninisbeautiful @sunrisesfromthewest

✩ A/n: i didn’t know how i could put this in one post so its going to be a multi part fic! i really hope yall enjoy this . i should be updating weekly (hopefully..) pls lmk if you wanna be added to the taglist or if you would like a rundown of the characters xx

anywayss…

Teaser under the cut !! * *‧.₊˚*੭*ˊᵕˋ੭.*

enjoy!! :)

Star Crossed| Armando Aretas

“But Dad, why?” she huffed, throwing her arms in the air in frustration.

“Because i said no.”

“But thats not a good enough answer.”

“Y/n, seriously, leave it alone.” he responded, shooting her a glance.

“But I have been training my whole life for this! How am i supposed to take over one day if you can’t trust me to do this?!” she was seething with rage, her nails digging into her palms. She had been told she could ‘go out in the field’ once she had completed her training and was now being denied that right. To say it pissed her off was a serious understatement.

“Mom would want me to do this!”

“Your mother is dead! She cannot want anything! You’re not going and that is final!”

She took a step back, tears welling in her eyes. Ever since her mother had died on a mission, her father had become cold and distant. It was almost as if he never cared for her.

“Thats not fair , and you know it,” she spoke through gritted teeth, her hands balled up in fists at her sides. “If you really don’t want me there despite me being your best agent, fine. But when it all goes to shit, don’t ask me to help.”

She left her fathers office, the thud of her boots following her. Her father sighed, holding his face in his hands. Y/n was just like her mother, dedicated, hardworking, and undeniably stubborn. She couldn’t understand why her father wouldn’t allow her to assist the team on this mission. She thought he was coddling her, holding her back from her full potential. But in reality, he was protecting her.

She stomped all the way to her room, throwing herself on the plush mattress. Her bedroom door clicked open, the sound of kitten heels on the hardwood floors piquing her attention.

“Little one, what did i tell you about shoes on the bed?” the sweet and comforting voice of her childhood nanny, Rosetta, made her huff out a breath she didn’t know she had been holding. “Sorry Miss Rosetta.” she apologised, unlacing her boots and placing them by her bed. “Good, now what’s with that face? Pretty girls like you shouldn’t frown like that.” Rosetta smiled softly, sitting next to her. Her hair was bouncy and smelled like shea butter and coconut oil. Her makeup was light and refreshing, making her look younger than she really was, though Y/n would never point that out because she knew how sensitive Rosetta was about her looks. she dressed unlike the house staff you would expect to find in a home like Y/n’s, more like a rich aunt rather than a nanny.

“Dad is being difficult again.” Y/n grumbled, crossing her arms, her lip slightly jutted out. Rosetta smiled softly at her, the wrinkles by her eyes becoming more prominent. “Now Miss Y/n, you know he is just looking out for you. He doesn’t want you to get hurt, or worse.” she reasoned, petting y/n’s hair. Rosetta was painfully aware of what had happened to Y/n’s mother, and knew it was a sensitive subject, so she made sure to tread lightly.

Y/n stood from her place on the bed, pacing around her lavish room. “But i am not a baby anymore and he knows that! I am one of the most skilled people on the team but he still treats me like a child. It’s not fair!” she argued, her frustration becoming more and more apparent in the way she spoke.

Rosetta smiled, “Well i can’t blame him when you act like this. If i didn’t know any better, i’d say you were having a temper tantrum,” she joked, her tone light, a gentle grin on her face. Y/n rolled her eyes in response, walking back to her bed. Rosetta held her arms open for her, as she used to when Y/n was younger. She laid her head in Rosetta’s lap, allowing the older woman to rake her fingers through her hair, the tension melting from her body.

“Look, Munchkin, your Baba cares about you. He wants you to be safe, and so do i. He has already lost so much, he cannot lose you too.”, Rosetta affirmed, looking down at the sweet girl in her lap. She looked almost the same as she did when she was a child, still soft and precious, but fiercer and somehow more headstrong.

Y/n often despised the way that no matter what Rosetta said, she made sense, she always made sense. “Now dinner will be ready soon, will you be coming down?” She asked, looking down at the girl curled up in her lap.

“I will, but i’m not talking to him.”

The dinner was quiet as ever, just Y/n and her father sat at the table on opposite ends, the same way it had been since her mother died. Rosetta stood off to the side, refilling their glasses whenever they emptied.

“Silent treatment? Real mature Y/n, real mature.” he father stated, taking a sip from the glass of water Rosetta had poured for him. Y/n stood her ground. She wasn’t trying to be childish or petty, she was trying not to to say something she would regret later on, for she did not have a good grasp on the sharp tongue she inherited from her father. Though, it did make arguments with him all the more interesting. “The target is called Benit-”

“Im not going remember? why would you tell me?” she interrupted harshly, her jaw clenched and eyes glaring daggers at her father. “You exhaust me, daughter, you really do.” Her dad sighed, taking a forkful of food and putting it into his mouth. “I’m just trying to fill the silence that you insist upon, because you are too spoiled to take no for an answer, but i guess that is not good enough for you, because nothing ever is.” he grumbled, knowing perfectly well that she would hear every word.

“I insist on the silence, because at least when it’s silent my very existence isn’t being insulted.” she quipped back, cutting up her food and shoving some in her mouth in a hurried attempt to shut herself up. Her father may be head of one of the most powerful mafia families in the world, but that didn’t mean he wasn’t her dad.

“Well maybe if you just did as you were told for once, without questioning my every decision i wouldn’t have to call you out on your petulance!”

“Oh I’m petulant? Says the man who won’t let anyone do anything because he’s too afraid!”

“You are just like your mother, always flying off the handle, not thinking before acting!”

“Mom never listened to your stupid demands and orders!”

“Look where that got her!, the silence was so deafening you could hear a pin drop. “Honey I-”

“How could you say something like that? She did nothing but love you and this is how you talk about her? You berate her for the only mistake she ever made, which was protecting me! She was perfect, never cursed, was polite and knew how to handle herself without getting herself into trouble. You tell me i am just like her?! Well i wish i was like her, maybe then you wouldn’t view me so negatively . Or maybe you would, because that’s exactly how you view her.” Her fists slammed against the table as she rose from her chair.

“Miss Y/n-”

“Miraculously my appetite has gone, thank you for the food though Rosetta.” and with that, she left to her room.

“I dont even want to hear it, Rose” her father huffed, his brows furrowed and his hands clenched together.

“You are both in the wrong. That’s all.” She smiled, placing her hand on Claude’s shoulder, her thumb grazing the fabric of his well tailored suit.

“I know.”

“Hey Boss?” a tall man, of a muscular build walked up to the table, papers in hand. “Yes Lorenzo?” Claude responded, rubbing his temple with his fingers. “I got everything i could on our target from our guy inside, but his tracker just went dead.” Lorenzo admitted, his head low, making sure not to make eye contact with his boss.

“What do you mean his tracker went dead?” Claude breathed, his fist slamming on the table top, causing Rosetta to jump while she cleaned up. “I mean his tracker was on and then it wasn’t.” Lorenzo asserted, huffing out a breath.

“You think this is funny, Enzo?” Claude stood up, grabbing the collar of Lorenzo’s shirt in his fist and and pulling his face closer toward his own.

“No boss.” Claude stared right into Lorenzo’s eyes, his teeth clenched in fury.

“Fix it.”

“Well, we think he may have been discovered, and you know, blown his cover.” Enzo responded calmly, knowing if he reacted the way he wanted to he’d be out of a job, and possibly a life. “Damn you Aretas.” he sighed, his knees suddenly becoming weak.

“Boss!”

“Claude!”, Rosetta ran to his side, holding him up as Lorenzo helped her situate him in the chair. “Kill him, i dont care what you have to do to make it happen. i want him dead.”

“Miguel. Ven aqí (come here)” a gruff voice demanded silence from a small group of men playing a round of Cheat, at a table in the middle of a worn down garage.

“Yeah Jay?” Miguel answered, a sweet smile gracing his lips, his two gold canines on full display.

“Did you do what i asked you to?” he was strangely calm, his left eyebrow slightly raised in mock amusement.

“Yeah of course i did.” Miguel answered, his hands moving straight to his pockets. He was lying.

“What did i ask you to do, hmm?” Jay’s hand made its way to Miguels face, squishing the skin in his hand, as the panic started and sweat began to settle on his forehead. ‘oh shit, what did he ask me to do,’ he thought, trying hard to remember the simple task he was asked to complete.

“I asked you to count the money.”

“Oh yeaaah count the money,” his response was delayed and drawn out, a clear indication that he had not in fact counted the money like Jay had asked him to.

“You see, Compa (friend), i asked you to do one thing,huh? Una cosa (one thing) , and you couldn’t even do that,” Miguel looked his ‘friend’ up and down, he was clearly upset, he fucked up.. bad.

before he could utter an apology for his incompetence he felt the cool end of a gun against his temple. “One thing buddy, thats all i asked. Look man, I knew you were stupid, but i didn’t know all that food you ate inhibited your brain functions!” Jay’s words were like venom. He was never nice to anyone but this was too far, even for him.

“Look man, i got distracted, I’m sorry, i’ll count the racks up before Boss gets back, i swear just don’t shoot.” he begged, tears beginning to well in his eyes.

“I should shoot ya’ in ya’ head, maybe it’ll rearrange your brain, make you useful, hmm?” he spat, digging the barrel of the gun further into his skull. “Or maybe i should shoot ya’ dick off, maybe then you’ll spend less time thinking about las putas (the whores) we see on the street and more time thinking about the simple fucking things i ask your dumbass to do!”

“Please man, you know i have a wife and kids, man. I am begging you.”

“Damn, i forgot about that pretty little thing you call your wife. fuck, you think if if i shoot you i could play step daddy for you, hmm? Keep your side of the bed warm. Snuggle up with ya’ Mrs, give her some good- ”

*Bang*

The sound of a gunshot resounded through the garage. Miguel checked himself over for bullet holes as Jay’s body hit the ground with a heavy thud, his gun falling from his grasp.

“Louis.” Armando said, watching the blood pour from Jay’s lifeless body and pool around him. “Yeah boss?,” a young boy, no older than 19 stood abruptly from his seat at the card table, almost knocking his chair over.

“Clean that up will you? I hate rats.”

“Yes boss.”

“And Miguel? Go count the money before i bury you with him.”

“Yes, boss.”

Hope you enjoyed the teaser!! the first part will be out soon xx

[russellsppttemplates]

We learn to hold its hand (Charles Leclerc)

Two hearts that lost themselves in pain.

Two hearts that found eachother in love.

Note: english is not my first language. It's been some time since I posted one of these, hopefully I still know how to do it 🥲 A lot of changes have been going on at my job and I've been trying to adjust to all of it without loosing my sanity and writinb has been a good escape! I know this is a heavy topic, so proceed carefully, but I was feeling like writing this so here it goes... For those who are here and have stayed, thank you for being so patient and for staying - I hope this is good enough ✨️

Thank you so much to everyone who likes and reblogs, your feedback is appreciated 🤍 and I'm not taking requests right now, so if you have any ideas or concepts you want to share, feel free to send them in but know that I don't know when I'll be able to get to them!

my masterlist

Cw: cancer, death of close relatives (reader's and Charles' father), grief, hospital procedures

Tag list: @myloverjk-blog @hiireadstuff @c-losur3 @sltwins

"Bonjour papa", Charles greeted, running his hand over the photograph that was on the grave, "I just got back from the track where we did the testing for Sauber, the last one before the season starts. It's hard, but I'm not afraid", he gulped, "Because you taught me that, even if I'm afraid, I have to go with fear. To move forward, because that's the only way. In racing, I can do that, but I won't be able to continue my life without you because I won't be able to. I try. Every day, I try. For maman, especially, since she tries to be strong for me, Lorenzo and Arthur, and somewhere along the way, we gathered the strength we didn’t know we had, but when we realize it, there it is, supporting us. I'm sure it's you. Every day, I remember that afternoon when you taught me how to ride a bike. Your insistence on removing the training wheels from the big wheel that ended up with a wound on my knee and that made me scream a few times. I remember you telling me that there were worse things than that simple scratch. I never thought that one day we would have to face them and that they would be the main reason why you are no longer by my side", Charles wiped away the tears, while he couldn't help but smile at the beautiful memories that came back to him, "But more than that, I remember the day you put a kart in front of me for the first time. There, I knew it was love for life. Yes, like Francis Cabrel's song. Or that afternoon when I stepped onto the concrete of the best race circuit in the world. There, I knew that I would begin a story in which, even though I was the main character, I would never have been able to write all the chapters that have been completed so far without the help of your pen. That support, that dedication, that encouragement, that love, father. Without them, I would never be the Charles that I am today. There was so much left to say and so much to do. But I am grateful for everything we said and for everything we did. I remember you telling me that you could no longer be strong and you asked me to be. I miss you so much. I miss you so much that I cannot express in words. I just want to thank you for continuing to light my path and for being the best father in the world. You are not by my side, but you are on my side. I feel that, every day. Thank you for continuing to support me in every race and in every challenge that life throws at me. Thank you for being so present, even though you're so far away. I miss you every day. And I feel you with me every day. Je t'aime, papa", he says goodbye, standing up and shaking off the little dirt on his jeans.

He picks up his backpack and starts walking towards the cemetery exit, but a sweet, melodious voice makes him stop walking. Charles looks in its direction, observing a female figure who, sitting next to someone's grave, was quickly but skillfully strumming the acoustic guitar and, at the same time, singing the song he had included in today's conversation with his father. Je l'aime à mourir by Francis Cabrel. Charles smiles at such coincidence and turned his back, picking up his pace, but soon stopping again, feeling a great need to go and meet that girl whose voice conveyed the pain he knew so well - loss.

Charles swallowed hard and instead of walking away, he found himself getting closer and closer to the young woman who, judging by your physical features, was probably around his age.

He waited for you to finish the song to make myself present, since you hadn’t noticed him yet.

“I miss you every day, Lucas. I wish you were here. It would make everything so much easier", he heard you say, through tears, and he felt the impact of all her words. There wasn’t a day that went by that he didn’t feel the same way.

Charles looks at the person you were visiting and his eyes almost popped out of his head when he notices the photo of a boy who couldn’t have been more than eight years old in that portrait. The date of death was twelve years ago.

"Who are you?", you ask.

Charles quickly woke up from his thoughts, focusing his gaze on you, now curiously appreciating him. The colour of your eyes, the way your hair fell down your back and your bare skin faacinaged him.

"Forgive me", he requested, a little embarrassed, "I heard you sing and I couldn't help but come here and tell you that you sing very well and that the person you dedicated the song to probably agrees with me", he replied and your shy laugh made him laugh too.

"Thank you", you offered, quite embarrassed, which was still funny, "He's my twin brother. He was eight years old when he left", you pointed to the portrait you had looked at moments before.

"My father. He passed away a couple of months ago", Charles decided to share the reason why he was also there.

"My brother had a rare blood disease, a cancer doctors were never able to identify. Chemotherapy and radiotherapy were not enough to cure him. In fact, the body of an eight-year-old boy could only handle so much at that time. I was the same age, but I will never forget my brother’s suffering and the strength he had until the end. My childhood innocence was taken from me that day. I am not an example to anyone. The true example of life left more than a decade ago, on a journey that still had a long way to go had it not ended the way it did", you said as you packed your things, letting your anger speak.

Charles noticed the crack in your voice and a few seconds later, he heard your sniffle.

The first instict he had was that he wanted to hug you in that moment and reassure you with just his arms, since words would never be enough comfort at a time like that. And at the same time, he felt that you needed to talk to someone who, being unknown and impartial, would never judge you for the anger you were experiencing.

"My father battled cancer for a few years but, unfortunately, he ended up losing the fight in July. However, the real winner is him. For so many reasons: for the way he faced the reality that was knocking on his door, for how he forced us to face it in the most positive way possible, so that it would become a little easier, and for the way he prepared us for his departure. He is a true hero. If, one day, I can be half the man and father that he was and is, you can be sure that I will leave this life happy", Charles spoke.

"They truly are the heroes who left early to prove that angels really exist", you said, looking at Charles intently in a way made him feel like an open book in front of the most beautiful reader he had ever seen in his life.

"I couldn’t agree more", Charles murmured, too caught up in the gaze of that twenty-year-old girl who was so much more like him than he had thought.

"Y/N", you held out your hand and he smiled at your introduction.

"Charles", he reciprocated, fitting his hand in yours, which you immediately shook.

And there, he knew that you were marked by the wound that would never heal and by the feeling that would never disappear: pain.

There, those two hearts that were lost in pain would be the same ones that would find each other in love.

.

Charles got up from the floor, after the usual daily conversation he shared with his father after training. He noticed you in the same position you had been in before, but this time, you were reciting poems from a small book you had in your hand, completely distracted from your surroundings.

It was the first time in almost three weeks that he had seen you again. You had stopped showing up at the same time as he did and for a moment he thought you were avoiding him. But he soon put those thoughts aside. After all, if you didn’t even know each other that well, what was the need?

“Y/N", Charles said as he approached you, alerting you of his presence.

You looked at him with a shy smile and immediately stood up as well, "I haven’t seen you around here since", he added and you laughed softly.

"In the last three weeks, I came in the morning, because of the internship I'm doing. I had to change schedules with a colleague and I couldn't come in the afternoon. Now everything is back to normal, so here I am", you explained and he nodded in understanding, "You never miss your schedule", you pointed out it was his turn to laugh.

"This is the best time for me to come because this way, I can spend more time with my father before the cemetery closes", Charles explains and you nod, "Hmm, I really like talking to you but, is it just me who thinks we're not in the best place?".

Your beautiful laugh makes him laugh too, "Without shadow of a doubt", you agreed, tucking a strand of your hair behind your ear.

"I bet you're hungry", Charles assuredly and you laughed again.

"Very", you dmitted, blushing, which made him smile at your embarrassment, "the line at the bakery in front of where I work was too long and, I'm sorry, but patience has never been my strong point", you defended yourself and he giggled.

"So it's better to go without food...?", Charles quirked an eyebrow as he asked, surprised and you laughed, rolling your eyes.

"I wouldn't go without food, obviously. I was just going to have to snack something later", you shrugged.

Once you stood outside the cemetery, you looked at each other intensely, not knowing what to say, "Would you accept an invitation for a snack?", Charles gathered the courage to ask and it was your turn to laugh at his shyness.

"Yes", your positive answer made him smile.

"Do you have a car?", he asked and you said no.

"Not yet. It’s at the mechanic’s", you made a face of disgust and Charles laughed, "the good news is that my father can pick it up at the end of this week. You have no idea how much I need it for my internship", you complained and Charles smiled at you relaxed way.

"Then you’re coming with me", he invited and you thanked him.

Charles lead you to his car and you smiled in gratitude when he opened the door for you so you could get in.

"And, if you’ll allow me, can I know what you study, Y/N?", Charles asked curiously, when you were already in line at the caffè, the place being chosen by the young woman during your journey, which had been made in a silence that Charles wouldn’t consider awkward but also not very comfortable. The awkwardness was still there.

"Radiology and radiotherapy", you replied, letting out a smile, "Twelve years ago, for a few months, I followed my brother's fight and was inspired by the humanity of those doctors and the team responsible for his case. The way he was treated, the constant encouragement in his recovery, the words and friendly shoulder they gave my parents, and even me, the way they prepared us for the worst and the way they accompanied us in our mourning, was truly human and truly inspiring. And there, I decided that this was something I would like to do in the future. I want to help others like they helped me more than a decade ago", you said proudly, earning a big smile from Charles.

You were interrupted when it was your turn to make the requests and respective payment. Charles insisted on paying the entire bill and you gave in, after much insistence from his behalf.

"Next time, you'll pay", Charles promised, as you walked aimlessly through the streets of Monaco.

"Will there be a next one?", you asked, laughing and Charles couldn’t help but look away from your shy eyes, "It’s a promise, then", you added and Charles looked at you again, already looking at him with a smile.

You ended up sitting on the lawn of a garden, finally digging into your food.

"And you? Can I know what you study?", you asked, equally curious and Charles laughed, still feeling a little satisfied that you didn’t know him as a Formula One rookie.

"I’m a race driver", he told you and you looked at him in surprise.

"What category? And which team?", you asked with interest and he smiled.

"The best in the world and the biggest one in racing", he replied, not wanting to say the team's name directly, because that way he would be able to know which one she supported.

"Do you race for Ferrari?", you asked and Charles smiled broadly, happy with what he had heard.

"I was in their academy last year", Charles confirmed and you smiled.

"How come I've never seen you there?", your curiosity and interest were something that satisfied him. After all, he wasn't the only one who wanted to know more.

"I was in Formula Two with Prema", he explained and her "makes sense", spoken in English, made him laugh.

"But tell me something. Are you regular at races?", Charles asked and you nodded.

"You could say that", you both laughed, "My father and grandfather were always

big racing fans. In fact, they are. And they passed that love on to Lucas", you smiled and looked down at the ground, "The few times he wasn't in the hospital, he was at the track. What he felt for racing was something I had never seen before. It was contagious. Everyone infected Lucas and he infected me. After his death, I promised myself to accompany my father and grandfather, and even go there alone, to every race that was done there. It was, and is, a way of feeling Lucas with me. That’s why I love racing so much", you looked at him with teary eyes, letting the tears fall when Charles brought his thumb to your face, caressing it.

"I’m sorry", you murmured and he quickly denied it, so that you would know that everything was okay.

"You’re inspiring, Y/N. I hope you know that", Charles offered.

You shook your head, smiling, "No, I don't think so. I’m just an eight-year-old child, in the body of a twenty-year-old girl who cries every night, wishing her brother was by her side", you spoke, with some difficulty, and Charles swallowed hard, trying to find the right words to comfort you.

"No, Y/N. You are a young 20-year-old woman who lost her brother at the age of eight and who, even today, is learning to deal with his absence", Charles said and you quickly wiped away the tears that were falling from your eyes, unable to help but sigh heavily.

"So, tell me, how does it feel to wear red? I clearly have been focusing in specific catehorues", you asked with a smile and Charles smiles at your change of subject.

"Incredible. It is a dream come true. I have no words to thank the trust that my team put in me, and how stepping into F1, even if it's not Ferrari, is a huge sense of responsibility, after all, you’re representing one of the best teams in the sport, the best in the world for me", Charles proudly answered your question, not avoiding remembering the day he signed his first professional contract with the unspoken promise and hope of a place in the Scuderia.

"How many years has it been?", you asked.

"I've been with the best the world for a few years", you both smiled.

“We could go watch the historic race this Saturday on the track just outside the city", you invited Charles and he smiled at you initiative, not hesitating to nod.

“I was already thinking of going, but now I’m really going to", Charles answered and you blushed.

"Can you give me your phone number so we can arrange things better?", Charles asked, feeling brave enough to do so, and you nodded.

You exchanged contact details and chatted a little longer until you were interrupted by the ringing of your phone. Charles waited for the call to end and returned the smile you gave him.

"Typical motherly concern", you explained, and Charles laughed, nodding along

"I know how it feels", he commented and it was your turn to smile

"Since my brother passed away, my mother, who was already overprotective, has become even more so. I don’t blame her for that, quite the opposite. I have learned to deal with it and I don’t make her life harder, I have a very open relationship with my mother. My first academic choice was not Monaco, but in Montpellier", you said as Charles made such curiosity known and looked at you, "But the truth is that I couldn’t even finish the first semester in the city because I couldn’t stand being alone. It was as if the pain multiplied by mixing with the loneliness that I felt. We were so close that I couldn’t separate the pain of having to leave for one of my dreams. I wasn’t prepared for the nights when nightmares haunted me and the absence of my brother was felt more than ever. So, I asked my parents to come and get me and I moved back to Monaco, where it didn't get easier but it wasn’t as difficult as being alone. Since my brother left, we’ve gotten even closer. But the first few days were the hardest. My mother became depressed, my father closed himself off a bit more and, at the age of twelve, I let myself be suffocated by the feelings I had no one to talk to, until my father learned to deal with the pain and helped us do the same. Someone needed to get back on their feet and help others get back on their feet too, and my father was my hero. We sought out the best psychologists for my mother and her progress was very positive, but in truth, what she was doing, and rightly so, was mourning the loss of the most real, pure and true love in the world. She was mourning the death of her son. And she did it in the only way she knew how. Today, we continue to do it, but we do it differently. And if people now talk and watch us go about our day to day lives, it's not because it no longer hurts - because it hurts a lot - it's because we've learned to embrace pain and deal with it. We hold its hand. I think the learning process is lifelong. And I'm going to die, still learning how to deal with it", you said, and the impact of your words prompt Charles to shed a tear, which was joined by all the others, for all the memories that hit him.

"I miss him so much", Charles whispered, avoiding your gaze.

Just out of the corner of his eye, Charles could see you get closer to him, smiling faintly when you pulled him into a hug he didn't hesitate in joining.

You fit perfectly on his chest, head nestled there as he hugged you by your waist, enveloping you and kissing the top of your head without a hitch.

And in that first touch of many, you got to know eachother through the way you both knew so well - pain. And right there, without knowing, you started another one - love.

.

Charles was coming home after another training session, the last one before the charity race he was participating in which would take place the next day at ten in the morning. Today was also the historic race day, the race he would watch with you, after meeting up every day that week at your usual spot - although it wasn’t the happiest, you always ended up going to different places in the capital city, where you took the opportunity to get to know each other better.

"Charles", he heard his mother call out and smiled, going to meet the woman who was preparing dinner.

"Hi, maman”, he kissed her hair and bent down a little so she could kiss his cheek, “I'm sorry, I forgot to tell you", he looked at her with a guilty expression, "I'm not going to have dinner at home", he continued, enjoying the meat she was cooking that smelled very good.

"It's all right", Pascale smiled, "you're going to watch the historic race with Joris and Riccardo, aren't you?", she asked, as they were usually his company.

"Well, about that..", Charles mumbled, scratching the back of his neck in a gesture of confusion that didn't go unnoticed by the oldest in the room.

"Charles Marc Hervé Perceval! What aren't you telling me?", his mother asked, genuinely curious, and he laughed out loud when she turned off the stove and crossed her arms, waiting for him to start talking.

"I'm going with a girl", he started and saw her smile grow at the information he had given her, "her name is Y/N. She is twenty years old and is a final-year student in the radiology and radiotherapy course. Unfortunately, we did not meet under happy circumstances, but the time we have spent together has allowed us to create and experience moments that go beyond that", he explained, avoiding his mother’s gaze to hide his slight embarrassment.

"Where did you meet?", Pascale wanted to know.

"At the cemetery. It was during one of the visits I paid to papa, three weeks ago. She lost her twin brother to a rare blood disease that doctors were never able to identify. Y/N was eight years old when he passed away. I have never related with anyone as much as I did with her. She understands me. In fact, we understand each other. She is simply beautiful in every way", Charles shrugged, not avoiding a smile as he remembered you.

"Charles, is it just me or are you in love?", his mother asked with a smile as she hugged him, fitting into his arms.

"It’s not possible, maman. Only this week that we’ve gotten closer", he replied, not avoiding a nervous laugh.

Pascale laughed, "and since when did that stop you from feeling something for that young woman? Charles, amour, it’s not the time of things but the intensity with which we experience them", she wisely advised and Charles nodded, smiling weakly.

"Thank you for everything, maman. Je t'aime", he whispered against her hair, leaving a kiss there.

"Never forget that you, as well as your brothers, are my pride and the light of my eyes. Je t'aime, Charles", Pascale spoke.

Charles held his mothee on his arms, wanting her to be aware of the infinite gratitude he felt for her.

Pascale pulled away, wiping her tears, and smiled at Charles, "Come on, I don’t want you like this!", Charles asked and she laughed, waving.

"I’m fine", his mother assured, "Now go take a shower and get ready so you don’t keep the girl waiting. I’ll make you a bowl of cereal, so you can eat something before you go", she warned and smiled, getting a kiss on her forehead.

"You’re the best!!", Charles exclaimed, leaving the room, and she laughed.

"I know!", she said, laughing, and Charles laughed at her expression.

Once he got to his bedroom, Charles chose a presentable outfit, wanting to dress appropriately and blend in with all of the fans and enjoy the race that was probably one of the last moments before everything flooded in. The PR team had already warned him that once he was in Formula One, everything changed and he hoped he could have this evening.

He ran to the bathroom, took a quick and relaxing shower, and got dressed without rushing, making sure he looked his best. After that, he went back to the kitchen, where his mother was still, finishing the preparations for dinner.

“Since I didn’t have any company for the meal, I invited your cousins”, she said.

Charles gave her a guilty smile, "I'm really sorry, maman", he spoke sincerely, and it was her turn to laugh, shaking her head.

“It’s okay, Charles, I was just kidding. I want you to go and enjoy Y/N's company. I haven't even met her yet and I already like her", she commented.

"Oh really? Why is that?", Charles wondered, really interested.

"Why? Because every time you talk about her, it's impossible for you not to smile. And I like that", she admitted and he blushed, hearing his mother giggle at his shyness.

"Maman!", he mumbled and the older woman laughed.

"What's wrong?", she asked, pretending not to notice as her son rolled his eyes, laughing.

"I knew I shouldn't have said anything, I should've stayed quiet", Charles complained and she laughed out loud.

"As if I wouldn't eventually find out, Charles", she winked, convinced, and Charles laughed at the joviality that characterized his mother, even after everything that life had put her through.

They were closer than ever and he felt very comfortable sharing any kind of subject with her, she was his best friend and the best thing in his world.

"I really have to go", Charles announced, looking at his watch, making sure he wouldn’t be late.

"Do you have everything with you, amour?”, she asked and he looked at her confused.

“Yes, why?”, Charles answered with another question, while he set the bowl of cereal in the sink.

"Are you sure?", she insisted and he snorted, patting his pockets and checking that nothing was missing.

"I have everything", he replied, kissing her forehead as a way of saying goodbye, "I'll see you later. Je t'aime!", he shouted from the living room and heard her laugh.

"Do you have the condoms with you?", Pascale asked, giggling, and Charles almost choked on his own saliva.

He couldn't believe it.

"Seriously, maman?", he made himself heard out loud.

"Do you think I'm stupid, Charles? I too was a young woman your age once. And I'm too young to be a grandmother!", she said, coming to meet him at the door, and she couldn't help but laugh when she saw his embarrassment.

"I'm leaving!", Charles exclaimed, leaving a last kiss on her cheek and walking all the way to the car while laughing, knowing his mother never missed the opportunity and had a great ability to embarrass her own son.

Charles got in the car and drove off towards your house which, even after a week, continued to leave him astonished by the external beauty that set it apart from the others in the same neighborhood. He sent you a quick text letting you know that he was already waiting for you and, about three minutes later, he heard a door slam, looking in the direction of the noise and not helping but smile when he saw how you were dressed appropriately for the race.

"Wow, yes, we have a racing fan", he complimented and the brunette giggle.

You were dressed in a vintage jacket, an allusive cap with the peak turned backwards and the rest of the outfit complimented it.

The rest of the journey to the track was transformed into a karaoke session, "tell me if we don't make an unbeatable singing duo", you joked as you walked towards the interior of the building where you would be sitting.

"Like society hasn't seen in many years", Charles joined in your joke and you laughed

Charles put his right hand on your shoulder, hugging you and guided you through the crowd so that you wouldn’t lose each other. He heard his name being called and two kids running towards him, making you stop walking. He greetd them with a smile and they ask for a photo that would be the responsibility of the woman who was waiting for them to position themselves, "your girlfriend can also join the portrait", the oldest women pointed to you, and you couldn't help but blush, making Charles smile sideways when he noticed such a thing.

"We're not-", Charles didn't let you finish.

"Come here, Y/N", he asked and the lady waved, heading towards you.

After the photos were taken, the kids thanked Charles, immediately disappearing from our sight, "Do you want to see something around here or would you rather go inside now?", Charles chatted up while you tried to show yourself less embarrassed.

He couldn't help but admit that he was enjoying seeing you like that and, more than that, knowing that he was the one that made you feel that way.

"We can go inside, since race time is very close", you preferred and Charles nodded, placing his hand on the small of your back, leading you to the entrance.

You greeted the various security guards who were there and headed to the place that your tickets indicated. Because Charles belonged in a professional driving championship, he was entitled to the VIP stands.

"Wow", you exclaimed, truly enchanted by the view you had of the track, which was undergoing the final touches before opening its doors to the public.

"Have you never been here before?", Charles asked and saw you deny it, while remaining astonished, appreciating the atmosphere around you.

"Only for a visit when Lucas was with us, never when there was an actual race happening. This is going to be great", you finally looked at him, offering him a smile, "thank you, Charles", you spoke and he acknowledged the sincerity of your words, smiling at you broadly.

“You’re welcome", he downplayed the situation, just hoping you would feel good, "I don’t know if you drink, but would you like a beer? Or perhaps some wine?", he asked and you laughed.

“I don’t usually drink, but today I can make an exception", you accepted and Charles smiled.

“Are you sure? You have every right to say no" he made it clear and you laughed, denying it.

“Seriously, Charles, we can go", you insisted and he waved, giving you space so you could go ahead of him.

The crowd there was huge, but that didn't stop you from drinking and snacking before the race started.

"The teams are getting ready", Charles said as you finished our drinks and you waved, standing up and opening your wallet to take out the money.

"Hey you! What are you doing?", Charles quickly intervened, placing his hand on yours to stop your movements.

"Charles, what did you promise? 'You'll pay next time', that's what you said", you imitated his tone of voice and you burst out laughing.

"Can't you wait until next time?", he insisted and you gave him a death glare, making Charles realise there wasn't much he could do.

"Okay then", he gave in and you giggled smugly.

You went back to your seats after you paid, watching everyone get ready for the race.

"Do you have a favourite driver?", Charles wondered.

"I don't think so. Each one has something to offer to the races, and it's not like many of them are here", you spoke before seeing Lewis Hamilton approach one of the cars.

A song came on and you pulled Charles to dance with you, singing in his ear as he smiled, tightening his grip on your waist. "Now comes the part that no one knows how to sing", you added, moving away from Charles a little and he could notice your shyness, most likely because of the action you had done before.

You danced awkwardly, which earned you a couple of looks, and stopped when the announcer of the track, already full, made himself heard, announcing the race was about to start.

"I love this part", you smiled, getting a kiss from Charles on the hair that was not covered by your cap.

The race started out well and everything seemed to be going as they hoped, the announcer mentioning some facts they had about the historic race.

"THAT'S AN OVERTAKE!", you shouted and the entire section stood up, celebrating yet another great move from Lewis.

You screamed euphorically, pulling Charles into a quick hug, before joining in the celebrations with the rest of the fans.

This girl was out of this world, Charles thought.

"I've never seen a girl like you", he said, automatically enchanted by you.

"That's because I'm an exclusive edition", you joked and you both laughed, "Is that good?", you asked seriously.

Charles returned your gaze, nodding, "Very. You're different from everyone I've ever met", he admitted and you smiled, looking away from him.

"Good. That way, I don't have to worry about them", you shrugged.

Charles smiled, satisfied with the answer you had given him, "Come here" he asked in an act of courage, hugging you while you rested your head on his chest and focusing your attention on the race.

When the race ended for a break until the next one, you took the opportunity to go to the bathroom, while Charles chose to do the same.

Since he was quicker than you, given that the line was shorter, he waited for you outside, where there was a line of young people who were looking at him curiously.

"Finally", Charles muttered to himself as he watched you leave the compartment.

"What happened? Were you feeling watched over?", you made fun and he stuck his tongue out at you, pulling you closer to him. "Watched over?! It seemed like the girls were undressing me with their eyes", he accused.

"That was most likely exactly what was happening", you confirmed and he looked at you in shock, which made you laugh again, "What?! You can't judge them!", you argued.

Charles laughed, honestly pleased with what he had heard, "Oh really? Have you also undressed me with your eyes?", he whispered in youe ear.

"No, I prefer to do it with my hands", you murmured against his mouth and walked ahead of him, leaving him perplexed.

Well, take that, Charles, his subconscious spoke and he chuckled - the ability you had to leave him speechless was unbelievable. Noticing the faces you were making, he decided to return to your seats, where you were already dividing your attention between your cell phone and the track.

"What are you watching?", Charles asked, moving closer to you to observe what you were watching, spending some time watching the silliness and fun on her screen.

"The game is going to start again", Charles said as you quickly turned off the electronic device and hugged his waist, while you paid attention.

"What is he doing to Lewis?", Charles complained.

"Do not play around with him!", you joined.

"Maybe there's a favourite after all?", Charles teased you.

"Maybe, he is very skilled and handsome", you shrugged.

"Oh, good", Charles murmured, feeling a pang of jealousy at the way you had spoken about the driver.

Your laugh made him realize that you had noticed, "Charles, are you jealous?", you mocked and he rolled his eyes, avoiding looking at you.

"I don’t know what you’re talking about. I don’t know that word", he shrugged, trying to make you forget the subject but you didn’t give in.

Instead, you brought your hand to his face, making him look at you, "I’m here with you, aren’t I?", you asked seriously and he smiled weakly, nodding along, "So it’s not Lewis that interests me", you concluded, paying attention to the track again.

Charles sighed, pulling you closer to him, a gesture that made you smile.

Once the race ended, you headed towards the outside, trying to avoid the confusion as much as possible.

"Shall we eat something?", Charles asked you, intertwining your fingers, and you smiled shyly at him, which made him chuckle.

"Please!", you agreed and laughed out loud. "Suggestions?", he asked and you looked thoughtful.

"The center might not be a good idea because it must be full after this", you ruled out, "that new panini shop?", you suggested and he agreed.

You got in the car and headed towards the shop, ordering it to go and Charles ended up choosing a nice spot that overviewed the city.

"Tomorrow I'm going to race", he began, "I know it's not your tradition, but I'd like for you to come watch", he invited and you smiled.

"I'll be there", you agreed and it was his turn to smile, "At what time is it?", you wondered.

"At 10:00 in the morning. I know it's Sunday but...", Charles trailed off.

"Tomorrow, at that time, I'll be there to support you", you promised and he thanked you.

Charles parked the car and you got out of the vehicle, enjoying the fresh night air, which was quite pleasant. He cleaned his shirt and pants again and heard you laugh as you came closer to help him with the crumbs.

"Clumsy", you criticized jokingly, and he stuck his tongue out at you.

You sat down on one of the benches that were there and you sighed, making Charles look in your direction.

"How peaceful", you whispered, while keeping your eyes closed and a small smile on your lips.

"Monaco is really beautiful", Charles said, hearing you agree with a small murmur.

You took off your cap and tried to fix you hair, making Charles laugh.

"Let me help you", he gently asked and you turned to him, letting him fix the rebelliousness that characterized you.

As soon as he finished, he continued to caress them, which made you close you eyes to enjoy the affection.

"Kiss me", you murmured and he looked at you in surprise.

"What?", Charles asked, trying to understand if he had heard correctly.

"Kiss me, Charles", you repeated.

"Can I?", still astonished, he wanted to make sure.

"You should", you replied as Charles smiled at your answer and pulled you towards him, appreciating the serenity of your face.

"Finally", Charles whispered against your mouth before finally placing your lips together for the first time - of many, he hoped.

You allowed his tongue to enter your mouth when he silently asked for permisson and he intensified your kiss, truly surrendering to you.

And in eachother's lips, you discovered the path to peace, the one you both had lost years before with the pain that had overwhelmed you.

.

You woke up to the sound of the alarm clock, quickly getting up, not wanting to be late for Charles' race,

"Y/N, dear?", you heard the surprise in you mother's voice and couldn't help but laugh. "Hi, mama", you said, giving her permission to come in, and she did so.

"Are you going to tell me why you're up at this hour? Of all people, you who hibernates all weekend!", she joked and you stuck out your tongue, which made her laugh.

"I just felt like getting up, that's all", you said briefly, as you looked through your closet, looking for the most presentable, yet comfortable, clothes possible.

"And why are you going to dress so nicely if you're going to spend the whole day at home?", she mused, suspiciously, and you laughed at her curiosity.

"Okay, mama, you win", you eventually gave in and she celebrated, which made you laugh out loud.

"I'm going to watch the charity race", you said and her curious look made you realize that her questions were only at the beggining.

"Who's your boyfriend from there?", she didn't hesitate to ask and you looked at her, shocked etched on your face.

"Why do I have to have a boyfriend to watch the race?", you asked, astonished and she looked at you with an expression that said to not mess with her.

"Your mother is old but she's not stupid, Y/N", she scolded, laughing and you followed.

"Mama, you are forty-eight years old. You are a young woman", you complimented her, trying to make her drop about the subject and the older woman laughed.

"Yes, yes, sweetheart. Now the question I asked you", she insisted and you laughed, shaking your head.

"I don't have a boyfriend, mama. But I have a friend who would like me to go and I'm going", you told her and the smile she gave you made you blush.

"Name?", she wanted to know and you snorted, making her laugh.

"How annoying", you rumbled and she laughed again, "Charles".

"Then I hope this Charles takes care of you or the wooden spoon will fly", she threatened and you couldn't help but laugh with her.

"You're amazing, mama", you replied and she laughed, coming towards you and kissing your forehead.

"I just want you to be happy", she muttered, while caressing your face and smiling.

"I am", you assured her and she smiled, before walking away, leaving you alone again. You ran to the private bathroom and took a quick shower, leaving it shortly after so you could get ready in time. You applied some light makeup and dried your hair, leaving it in its natural waves.

You went down the stairs, passing through the living room, patting Simba on the head, the old Labrador who had always been with you, and whose name was based on Lucas' favorite movie.

"Good morning", you greeted your parents, although you had already spoken to your mother.

"Up so early, my dear?", your father was surprised and you looked at my mother, who was already looking at you with a suggestive smile that made you roll you

[dragon-kazansky]

Heart of the Dreaming

Morpheus x Female Reader

Soulmate AU

You are the daughter of Rodrick Burgess. You find out about the "demon" in the basement and decide you want to see it. Things take an unexpected turn when your soulmate connection is made with the man you find down there. You are the one he has been waiting for, and you're being taken away from. Not for long. Dream will protect his soulmate.

{Masterlist}

{Previous Chapter} - {Next Chapter}

Chapter Thirteen - Make it count

☆☆☆

When you next awoke, you felt well rested. Without Dream, you were certain you would have seen the Corianthian again. You were worried about what he wanted, and what he was capable of doing.

You rose from your bed and got changed into some comfortable clothes. As you opened your door to leave, Dream was standing there with his hand raised to knock. You both looked as startled as the other.

"How did you sleep?" He asked instantly, lowering his hand.

"Good. Thank you."

His lips break out into a small smile. "You're welcome. Always."

"I, uh, I was coming to see you."

"As was I coming to see you," he chuckles softly. The sound sends a tingle down your spine. He has a very pleasant chuckle.

"Well, I was thinking..."

"Yes?"

You sigh and try to find the words you want to use. Would he be upset with you? "Well, I was thinking, maybe, I could be used as bait for the Corianthian. See, it's this power he's after, and even though it's not your full power, he clearly thinks it's enough to use against you, and, well, if I go and pretend I'm on his side or whatever, we can lure him out and capture him."

Dream was taken back by your idea.

"No."

"What?"

"No. I cannot risk anything happening to you." He is absolute with his words. He won't risk losing you.

"You have to let me help."

"No. I was coming here and to tell you I'm going after him alone. You will be safe here. Should anything happen to me, I've taken precautions to keep you safe."

"I didn't ask you to do that." You frown at him.

"No. You didn't. I did it anyway."

You want to tell at him for being foolish, but you can't bring yourself to do it. He's trying to keep you safe.

"You need me," you say softly.

"I'll manage."

You hate that. You hate that he's going to out there without you. If you're there, he isn't at full strength. He can't possibly expect to do anything.

"Please," you beg.

"I can't let you."

There was something about the tone of his voice that hit you. He wasn't doing this to displease you. He was asking in his own way for you to stay safe.

"Okay..."

You back down. For now.

Dream hesitates to reach out and touch you. You can see his fingers twitch at his side. You do the only thing you can think to do and reach out, taking his hand. You bring it to your face and let him touch you softly.

Dream looks at you in awe. His thumb brushes along your cheek in a light touch. You feel warm.

"If I return, may we discuss our future?" He asks hopefully.

"When you return. Yes."

He smiles softly. Perhaps he can win you over after all. He caresses your cheek for a little while before dropping his hand. He looks at you, committing you to memory. He wants your face to be the only thing he thinks about.

He then leaves.

You watch him disappear down the hall and round the corner. You sigh softly. You then wait several minutes. Then you go. Down the hall, round the corner, and into the library.

Lucienne looks up when you enter and seems surprised to see you. She stands up and bows her head slightly. You feel strange being bowed to. You're not Dream. You're not a ruler.

"My lady."

You feel strange hearing that, too.

"Tell me how to get to where Dream has gone."

Lucienne hesitates. She swore to watch over you while he was gone. "I don't think that a good idea."

"Please."

The librarian can see the desperation in your eyes and hear the plead in your tone. You're worried about him. She's worried about him. If dealing with the Corianthian wasn't so dangerous, she would possibly find this endeavor almost romantic.

"There's a gateway you could use..."

"Show me."

Lucienne adjusts her glasses and then looks up at the bookshelf where Matthew is perched. He understands immediately and flies down to the table in front of you.

"Follow me." He caws.

You look at Lucienne. "Thank you."

"Stay safe," she replies.

You follow Matthew out the library and down a couple of halls. He brings you to a lone door in the middle of one hall, and you go inside. There's a tall mirror standing on its own in this room. Matthew lands on top of it.

"You can pass through here, but it's kind of a one-way thing. You'll need Dream in order to come back here," Matthew explains.

"Thank you, Matthew. I intend to return with him. He needs me."

Matthew caws. "Yeah, we know."

You chuckle softly and look at the mirror. It looks unsuspecting. Just a mirror. Your reflection looks quite ordinary, but when you reach out and touch the glass, your hand passes through. Your reflection begins to ripple. You walk slowly through the mirror.

☆☆☆

Dream walks with his hands in his coat pockets. His eyes are focused straight ahead. His mind is full of thoughts of you.

The Corianthian will not get away a third time. Dream will end this today, even if it destroys him.

He knew he needed to catch the Corianthian at some point, but him appearing in your dreams was the final straw. Dream can't let him roam any further.

He walks towar this destination. A hotel. Many mortals are gathering here. Dream looks around as he stands in the parking lot. Something felt very wrong about this place.

He enters the building.

In the trees opposite the hotel, Matthew lands on a branch and looks down, seeing Dream enter the building. Lucienne had asked him to come and keep an eye on things and to return to her if things turned sour. Matthew turns his head toward the entrance of the parking lot and waits for you to appear.

Dream walks through the lobby of the hotel and sees people queuing at the desk. He walks right past them. There's an outside area and then hall down to the left. It seems people need a pass to get down there.

He waits. Two people approach the table and sign in. Dream stands behind them a few steps, and as they turn to go down the hall, he simply slips past beside them. The man at the table is too occupied with other guests to notice him.

He walks down the long hall and passes several conference rooms. Each room is labelled differently. Dream comes to stand in the doorway of one. The people at the table have strange nicknames and they're saying strange things.

It clicks in his mind.

These people are some of the worst of the worst. These people kill others. The murdering. The slaughtering. The disgusting "art" they think they're providing.

The Corianthian was definitely here.

At the end of the hallway is a large assembly room. Much bigger than the others. A podium is set up at the front of the room, and many chairs have been set up to face it.

Voice and footsteps flood the hall outside the room, and Dream tucks himself up against the wall as people start to flood in. He watches as they walk past him, talking and laughing. Each of them finds a seat in this vast hall.

Dream watches from the back.

The first ten minutes of whatever this is just talking from the organisers of the event. Dream doesn't care for specifics. He knows who these people are, what they do, what they Dream about.

It's when they mention a special guest that Dream perks back up. From a side door enters the Corianthian, and Dream watches him closely. The Corianthian walks up on stage, shakes hands, and then takes the podium.

He talks about dreams. Their dreams. Their potential. It makes Morpheus sick to think about his gift being abused by one of his own creations. At least you're safe and away from here.

The Corianthian spots Dream lingering in the back and grins.

"Tell you what, all of you close your eyes. Think of what makes you happiest. Focus on that, and soon, you will find it feels so real."

Dream walks down the aisle of chairs and slowly joins the Corianthian up on the stage.

"It's not you I wanted," the Nightmare states.

"She's safe."

"Is she?" He chuckles. "You're here to stop me?"

"Yes."

There's something about the Corianthian's smile that doesn't feel right. Dream should know you're stubborn.

And just like that, Morpheus is afraid.

☆☆☆

You reach the hotel and look up at the tall building. This is where they are? It didn't matter, you supposed. You walk inside. The lobby seems really quiet apart from a few guests and the staff. You walk past the reception desk and wander further into the hotel, going down the hall at the end.

It was quiet. Well, almost. The room at the end seemed to have something going on. You could hear what sounded like a voice. Perhaps some kind of presentation.

You didn't know where else to look and decided to take a peek. You walk over to the door and push it open.

Inside is not what you were expecting, and there was no one insight. You swore you heard a voice earlier, but there was no one here.

This room appeared to be some kind of... basement, perhaps? A bare room with a table in the middle of it. The kind of table you might find in a hospital.

"Well, what do we have here?"

You turn and find yourself facing the Corianthian. Yet there was no sign of Dream. What was going on?

"I knew you would come. Especially if he came after me. You wouldn't let him come alone." He chuckles.

"You hoped this would happen..."

"That's right." He grins.

"Where are we?" You ask, looking around again. Now, there is someone else in the room. A person you don't recognise. She is standing over a body on the table. In her hand is a scalpel.

"Oh, we're in the Dreaming again. These people are dreaming. You're bringing them all here." He chuckles. "All their dreams cam come true."

"I don't understand..."

"You alone were not enough to bring them all here into one dream. I knew I'd need Dream. I knew he would protect you if I was a threat. Now, don't worry. You don't have anything to worry about. We're currently feeding from his power. Soon, you'll be the master of the dream realm."

"What...?"

"I'm using this place to feed his power into you. You can do as you please with the Dreaming once we're rid of him."

"No! Stop it!" You yell.

A couple more people have appeared in the room. They're also doing horrific things with bodies. You're afraid. He's using you to destroy Dream and make these people stronger in their dreams.

"Please stop!"

"No can do, sweetheart." He clicks his tongue casually.

You feel your heart sinking and your breathing becoming rapid. You need to stop him somehow. You need Dream.

You need him here.

"Don't listen to him."

You gasp and turn around quickly. Dream is standing in the doorway nearby, but he looks a little fuzzy. He's not here, but he's projecting an image of himself here. It's probably all he can manage right now.

"Dream?"

"Don't listen to him."

"What do I do?" You ask softly.

The Corianthian stands in front of you both. "Enough of that." Just like that, Dream fades from view. It takes everything in you not to call out for him, but it would be no use.

"Let's get started, shall we?"

☆☆☆

Dream watched the Corianthian enter the Dreaming where he knew you were. You must have followed him to the hote, and the Corianthian had known. He was using what little power you possessed to cypher his own power, weakening him.

You weren't even doing it on purpose. From the waking world, Morpheus could feel your heart breaking. He needed to get through to you. He focused and tried to project himself into the Dreaming.

"Don't listen to him."

He can almost see you. You look afraid. He wants to reach out to comfort you, but he can't. The Corianthian severs his connection to the Dreaming, and you're gone.

His scar begins to throb. Hus rubs it.

He has an idea.

☆☆☆

The Corianthian is manipulating the room around you. He's using your power. He's controlling it. No longer are you in that horrible little room with those horrible people, but now you're outside. The grass is green, and the trees are tall.

It's beautiful.

"This is Fiddler's Green. It's considered the most beautiful spot in all the Dreaming. We're going to draw all that power here." The Corianthian smiles. "Let me show you what we can do."

He takes your hand and waves it gently through the air. A woman appears in front of you. She looks around, confused, startled. She's tall, has dark hair, and is wearing comfortable clothes. She must have been at home.

"What is this? Who are you?" She asks.

"This is lady here is Lyta Hall." The Corianthian chuckles. "Her husband died some time ago. Why don't we bring him back?"

Another wave of your hand, and there's a man standing beside her. You're confused. What is this? What is this power he's using?

The man and woman look at each other.

"Hector?"

"Lyta..."

Lyta reaches out as if to check if he's real. Her palm makes contact with his cheek, and she begins to sob. They wrap their arms around each other and hold each other.

"Lyta's dream was to have a family." The Corianthian tells you. "So let's make that dream come true."

He waves your hands again, and Lyta puls away from Hector to look down. Suddenly, she has a baby bump. You yank your hand away from the Corianthian and put some distance between you both.

"Stop it! Stop all of it!"

Your scar starts to throb. You rub it gently. You're not sure if it's because of him or not that it's doing that. You take a few deep breaths.

"I've had enough. I don't want this. I don't want Dream's power. I just want him here. I want him here with me..." You speak softly. You miss him.

You close your eyes and think about him. Everything he's done for you so far. Everything he's been through. Sure, you didn't want this bond at first. Everything was too much for you to cope with, but now... now you wanted him. You wanted to see his face again. You wanted to hear his voice again.

You wanted him.

A hand reaches out and places itself on your arm. You almost scream as you scurry away. You turn to find the Corianthian hadn't moved from his previous spot. No. You find yourself looking up into familiar blue eyes.

With shake breath, you lunge at Dream and wrap your arms around him. He lets you, wrapping his arms around you. However, he trains his eyes on the Corianthian, watching him carefully.

You cling to his coat. "I'm sorry. I'm sorry!"

Dream tilts his head down and brings lifts you lr face up with his hand gently. "You don't have anything to be sorry for."

You look up at him. You're trying not to cry. His thumb brushes your chin gently as he looks at you. You're safe. You're here in his arms.

"This isn't over." The Corianthian says. Once again, he's holding a knife.

"It is." Dream states. He turns to Lyta and Hector, who are holding onto each other and watching everything with confusion and fear. Dream waves his hand in their direction. Hector fades into dust in Lyta's arms. "The dead belong with the dead.'

"You bastard..." Lyta glares at him, tears threatening to fall. Dream does not care. He waves his hand again and Lyta wakes up.

Now it's just the three of you.

"I need to undo him," Dream says. "But I'll need your help to do it."

You look up at him softly. There's only one thing you can think to do. You grab him by the coat and pull him down, kissing him suddenly.

Dream is startled by your actions, but does not attempt to push you away.

You pull away and look up at him.

"Make it count."

Dream realises what you've done. You've given him your portion of the power back through a kiss. He can feel it in his veins. He stares at you in awe.

He raises his gaze to the Corianthian and gestures for you to get behind him. However, you don't let go of his hand. You watch the two.

"You can't stop me this time." Dream tells him. He lifts his hand up toward the Nightmare.

The Corianthian seems emotional. "I am what you made me."

"I didn't make you for this."

"No?"

Dream doesn't respond. He focuses his power on undoing the Corianthian. He had thought the Corianthian had been made perfectly, but it seemed he was full of flaws. Dream would not make that mistake again.

You watch the Corianthian become nothing more than sand and a skull. Dream walks over to the sand pile and picks up the tiny skull, looking at it.

"Next time, I shall do better. I shall not make something so petty." He tucks the skull into his pocket and turns to you again. "Come here."

You look at him and walk over to him slowly. He does not falter his gaze from you. You come to a stop in front of him. Dream slowly reaches out and takes your hand. With a gentle tug he pulls you into his chest.

"You kissed me."

"I did..."

"Do it again."

You state at him in surprise. Was he serious? When you continue to just stare at him, he chuckles and makes the move himself. He brings his lips to yours and kisses you softly.

You feel like you're walking on air.

It's over relatively quickly, but he gently presses his forehead against yours and smiles.

"Let go home."

You smile. "Yeah."

☆☆☆

@deniixlovezelda - @missdreamofendless - @kpopgirlbtssvt - @meganlpie - @thoughtsfromlayla - @ladyjbrekker

@mwaaaaaugh - @bluespecs14 - @intothesoul - @lady-violet - @navs-bhat - @krahk - @oldsoulmagic

@rubyrose2014 - @lorkai - @roxytheimmortal - @star-maker-rain-dancer - @intothesoul - @gemini-mama - @whotperlinda

@dreamingblueberries - @the-shadow-of-aurora - @novavida - @blackgirlmagicforever

@permanentlyexhaustedpigeon88 - @hopshusushi - @sloppyzengarden - @thecraziestcrayon -

[raspberryfingers]

A Lion in the Garden -Tywin Lannister x Reader- (Part 12)

A/N: this chapter is probably my favorite addition of the rewrite :)

WARNINGS: NSFW

Word Count: 5.6k

—————

I sighed as I watched the last of my luggage be loaded into the wagon. I had packed light, because hopefully this excursion would only take two weeks at most. Both Sansa and Loras had packed a bit more, however, for if all went well they would not be returning to King’s Landing.

It was so early in the morning that the sun had not yet risen, and the only people at the entrance courtyard of the Red Keep were the nightguards and the men accompanying us. I regretted that we had to leave so damned early, as I’d wanted to say goodbye to Tywin. 

It made me rather sad, because I hadn’t a clue if he’d even remember me helping him to the Tower of the Hand when he woke up. His last memory of me might be the feast, and he would not see me again for two weeks.

“Are you alright?”

Feeling Ser Elias’ hand at my shoulder, I turned around and looked up at him with raised eyebrows. Processing what he’d said, I instantly nodded.

“Yes, I’m fine. Just rather anxious, I suppose. Quite a lot relies on this going right,” I said with a sigh, holding my arms and trying not to think about how much could go wrong on this trip. Elias nodded with understanding, removing his hand from me. 

“I understand. However, know that if it should go wrong, it is not your fault. If you cannot wager peace, there’s not a soul on earth who would’ve been able to.”

“Yes, well, the peace agreement was also my idea.”

“And one that I consented to.”

Ser Elias and I turned our heads at the sound of another’s voice, and I was surprised to find Tywin approaching us. I instantly smiled, going over to him and meeting him halfway.

“How are you already awake? Do you feel alright?” I questioned, pressing my hand to his forehead and examining him. Even in the darkness he still looked quite miserable. There was no doubt in mind he’d already vomited at least once.

“I feel entirely awful, but I had to come see you off. I told my guards yesterday that they were to wake me early this morning with no exception,” he explained, reaching for my hand and holding it in his. The feeling sent goosebumps up my arm, and I was somewhat flattered by the fact that he was this ill and had still come all the way down here.

“Will you be alright getting back to the Tower of the Hand?” I asked, noting that he had no coat on over his shirt and pants, just a cloak. I was certain he intended to go back to sleep after this. I prayed he would, he desperately needed it.

“I will be fine. My head hurts quite terribly, that’s all. How are you feeling?” Tywin’s free hand came to my arm, and it made me oddly sentimental. I did not want to leave him.

“Nervous, but that’s to be expected. If I tell myself everything I told you, it helps me calm down. I’m rather convincing that way. I just need to focus on rationality instead of my nerves,” I told him, unable to resist the urge to crack a joke as I squeezed his hand. He smiled gently, not enough for anyone else to notice if they were looking. 

“Well, you convinced me, and I had no qualms with the messier route. You are doing a good thing, remember that.”

“But… what if… what if things go horribly wrong, Tywin? What if I give Robb Stark his sister and two war prisoners with her? Then what?” I voiced my fears, for Tywin was the only person I felt comfortable voicing them to. He instantly shook his head, an entirely serious look on his face as he did.

“That is not going to happen. You will persuade the Young Wolf and you will end this war. You are capable of that, I am certain. And, in the impossible scenario that Robb Stark is utterly stupid and decides to take you hostage, I will call every last bannerman and come for you. I will be dead and rotting before any harm is ever done to you,” Tywin assured me, raising the hand on my shoulder to my cheek and holding eye contact as he said it. Somehow, his words were more comforting than I’d even thought possible.

“Oh Tywin…”

I embraced him then, my face pressed against his chest as I shut my eyes and just let him hold me. One arm wrapped around my torso, and the other hand came to my head, fingers intertwined with my hair. I could feel his breath on my scalp, and after a moment his lips too.

“You will return to me, (Y/N), safe and victorious. And when you do, I will hold you just like this. Do you understand?” Tywin whispered, pulling back a bit so he could look at me again. I nodded, giving him a frightened, desperate smile as though I was trying my hardest to believe his words. I needed him to be right. 

He kissed my forehead then, and I wanted to sob. I had just barely admitted to being in love with him, but either way, knowing that I had to part with him for two weeks was impossible to accept. 

“I’m going to miss you, Tywin,” I muttered, looking up at him solemnly. His lips parted, and he looked entirely shattered at my statement. He nodded, closing his eyes.

“I will miss you as well, dear girl.”

We stared at each other for a moment more, but Loras calling my name from across the courtyard made both of us look over. I sighed, knowing it was time for us to leave.

“I will see you in two weeks, Tywin. I will make sure of it,” I said, giving his hand one last squeeze before turning around and going up to my horse. I quickly mounted up, trying my hardest to make the aching go away. 

The large gate to the Red Keep opened, and as our small group began to move out, I looked at Tywin one last time. He only stared, but it was reassuring all the same. The fear dissipated, and in its place came determination. Yes, I would see him in two weeks, and when I did, I would smile from ear to ear as I announced the end of a war. 

—————

It had only been a few days since you’d left, but Tywin was already utterly miserable. He’d become accustomed to your visits in the morning before either of you had anything to do. It was a pleasant way to start his day, and without it he found himself somewhat aggravated. Now he found that it was hard to get work done without thinking about you or wondering where you were.

He had no idea if you were safe, or if you’d reached Robb Stark yet. He suspected not, but it was a small group and would allow you all to move quickly. Still, it irked him to not be 100% certain of your safety and wellbeing. He was glad you weren’t traveling in a wheelhouse, for that would’ve attracted far too much attention.

Sitting at his desk now, Tywin caught himself considering all these things. It was late morning, and he’d be having lunch soon. He could picture you doing the same, sitting with your brother and his wife. He tried not to think about the fact that Ser Elias was there with you too.

There was the frustration again. Tywin groaned as he leaned back in his chair, staring at the ceiling hopelessly. It was a never ending cycle of missing you and wishing you were here, then onto thinking about whatever you might be doing, and finally remembering that Ser Elias was with you the entire time. 

He knew that you were probably right, Ser Elias surely only saw you as a sister or a daughter, but how could Tywin not feel any jealousy at all? The man was six and a half feet tall, not to mention tremendously fit and good looking. It made the Old Lion miss his youth, for once upon a time he wouldn’t have felt insecure compared to a man like that.

Tywin sighed, blinking a few times as he considered just how badly he wished to have you all to himself. Gods, what would it be like to kiss you? To hold your cheek and feel the softness of your lips? He couldn’t even fathom it.

He thought back to the day at the inn, remembering how his breath had caught in his throat at the sight of you in the tub. He hadn’t even meant to look, for he’d never wanted to make you uncomfortable, but gods, you were beautiful.

Tywin hated the way that he thought about you, because he knew that whatever had happened to you as a girl had clearly made you wary of men and their intentions. He could not blame you, and yet somehow even he desired you. It made him feel disgusting, almost as though he was no better than the two soldiers whose tongues he’d cut off.

Of course, it was different. Those men had wanted to rape you, he wished to make love to you. The vision of it was only erotic because Tywin pictured you wanting him just as much as he wanted you. And, it was not as if desire was the thing he could feel when he thought of you. The affection and love had come first, then with it the lust. 

It was odd, for he had fucked whores at various points in his life, but that was merely to relieve his lust. There had been no desire for any of those women, he had simply paid them to make him feel good. He never kissed them, either. But gods, he wanted to kiss you.

That was the difference, he guessed. When he pictured himself fucking you, it was imagining your moans that made his blood rush. Because yes, he could certainly think about how good it would feel to be inside of you, but it was not nearly as attractive as the thought of you being pleased by him. You would look so pretty that way.

Tywin sighed, lifting his head from the back of his chair and looking down to find what he already knew was there. The strain in his pants had grown uncomfortable as he’d allowed his imagination to run wild, and now he simply felt frustrated. 

It had been quite some time since he’d requested a whore from the brothel. Normally just being around you left him content enough to simply touch himself when he grew aroused, but he felt quite insatiable now. Then again, he did not want to fuck a whore, he wanted to fuck you. And thus an idea sparked into his head.

Tywin reached for a blank sheet of parchment, instantly scratching down his instructions on it. He was sending for a whore, though not just any random one. He wanted a girl with your hair color, your eyes, and your height. He pictured every feature of yours perfectly in his head, discovering that if he’d wanted to he might’ve described you in exact detail. But no, the request must be general. Even then, it already was risky enough for him to be doing this.

Before he could think twice, the Lord Hand found himself finishing and sealing the letter. He would take it through the tunnel after he had eaten lunch, and that would be that. He expected a girl would be waiting in his chambers after supper. Somewhere deep down, Tywin knew it would be the last time that tunnel would ever be put to use. It was quite the relieving thought.

—————

Tywin was grateful to be back in his chambers, for he’d just told the king of your plan. True to his word, the Lord Hand informed his grandson about something he ought to know. Unfortunately, Joffrey had not taken well to the news. Tywin hadn’t expected anything less, hence why he’d waited to tell him until after you had left with Loras and Sansa.

But gods, that boy was cumbersome. So much so that Tywin had almost entirely forgotten about the request he’d given to the brothel earlier that day. Entering his bedroom, he was surprised to find a whore there waiting for him. She was still dressed, though only in a transparent fabric, and she had draped herself across the sofa.

Tywin froze as he took in her appearance. In terms of characteristics such as hair and skin, she matched you quite well, but in terms of actual features there was hardly a resemblance. Taking a deep breath, the Lord Hand told himself it was fine. He did not need to look at her face while fucking her, even if he had looked at yours in all his fantasies. 

“My Lord,” the girl greeted, slowly sitting up and giving him a seductive smile. Tywin found that her boldness irked him. You were not timid, to be certain, but he’d found there were some respects in which you were surprisingly vulnerable, and this would certainly be one of them.

She stood from the sofa, striding toward him in a somewhat teasing manner, almost as if trying to trigger some sort of instinct. Standing before Tywin now, she began to undo his coat. He did not deny her, but he did not do anything to encourage her either. 

With her face closer now, he noted that she was similar to you in age, probably in her mid-20s. That made him feel a bit better, at least. But still, when she smiled up at him it was almost aggravating. You did not smile like that. Yours was much prettier.

Tywin began to wonder if he even really wanted to have sex with this woman. She was not you, and you were all he wanted. But then again, he was still annoyed over the conversation with his grandson, and surely it couldn't hurt to blow off some steam this way.

“Would you like to undress me, my Lord Hand?” she asked with a giggle, completely removing his coat and his shirt. Tywin looked down at her, remaining silent for a moment.

“Undress yourself and go sit on the sofa,” he commanded, not a single hint of emotion in his voice as he did. The whore smiled and nodded, making quite a display of herself as she shed the thin gown off. She moved back to her original spot with a very seductive sway of her hips. 

Tywin let himself admire her for a moment, for he couldn’t deny that she was attractive. She had spread her legs as she sat, giving him quite the view. He wished he could see you in such a position; it would be the prettiest painting he ever saw.

Slowly, Tywin removed his boots and then approached the woman. She sat a bit straighter with expectation, batting her eyelashes as she looked up at him. Again, he found himself thinking of you. What might it be like to have you gazing up at him in expectation like this? He could imagine himself brushing your cheek with his fingers and tucking your hair behind your ears. 

He would not touch this whore like that, though. Such intimacy was reserved for you alone. Instead, he merely undid the ties on his pants, pushing them down just enough to free himself. Tywin wasn’t fully hard yet, for truthfully the thing arousing him most was picturing you in place of this woman.

But, either way, he welcomed her to touch him as he stood before her. The whore examined his cock with a smile, instantly reaching from him and beginning to stroke. The sensation was pleasant, but Tywin remained entirely composed until she moved forward a bit and took him in her mouth.

In response to that, he let out a deep exhale, looking down at the top of her head and nearly moaning when he realized that she looked just like you from this angle. Her hair was perhaps her largest similarity to you, and Tywin found himself reaching for it eagerly. His fingers weaved through it, and his grip was firm yet tender. 

The thought of you licking and sucking him this way fully hardened the Great Lion, and his hips involuntarily bucked into the whore’s mouth as he pretended that it was yours. He groaned rather loudly, fighting back the urge to let your name slip from his tongue. 

All sorts of ideas about you began flooding through his head. He could imagine your hands grabbing at his hips, pulling him in even farther. And to have those lips, those soft, convincing lips wrapped around his cock… gods, it sent a shiver up his spine. 

The whore swirled her tongue around his tip, but he did not feel that. Instead he felt you doing it, and he cursed out with utter delight. Of course, he could not entirely convince himself. Had it really been you he would’ve laid you across the sofa and buried his face between your legs already. For some odd reason, he also felt that you would be a woman bold enough to grab his balls while doing this. It was no particular fantasy of his, but the idea of you touching him in any way was absolutely titillating. 

Tywin felt his abdomen beginning to tighten, and he shook his head, opening the eyes that he hadn’t even remembered closing. He glanced down at the whore, removing his hand from her hair. Feeling this, she glanced up at him.

“Enough of that. Get up and bend over,” he instructed, swallowing and catching his breath as he took a step back. He watched the woman do as he’d requested, hands planted into the sofa with her ass raised toward him, and he nodded to himself. Her build was not exactly like yours, which of course served to disappoint Tywin, but it was close enough that—if he were to really put some effort into it—he could convince himself.

He approached her then, one hand grabbing at her hip and the other reaching for his erection. Tywin found his breath catching in his throat as he lined himself up at the girl’s entrance. He simply kept his eyes focused there as he pushed in, imagining how you might moan his name and arch at the feeling of him stretching you this way.

Well, that was what he had been imagining until he was interrupted by the sound of the whore’s moan. Her voice was nothing like yours, and even if he had never heard your cries of pleasure before, logic told him it would be nothing like the sound he’d just heard.

As he slowly began to thrust into her, he attempted to ignore her whines, simply shutting his eyes and enjoying the warmth of the walls around his cock, because even if she wasn’t you, it obviously still felt rather good. Whores were paid for a reason, after all.

Both of Tywin’s hands were on the woman’s hips now, and again he thought of you. He remembered what it had been like to wake up at the inn with his arm wrapped around you, how his breath had caught in his throat when he realized. 

That memory made him thrust a bit faster, and he let out a low moan as he did. The whore replied the same way, though her moans were far louder and much more exaggerated. It made Tywin increasingly annoyed, for not only did it not sound like you, but he knew it was fake. 

This kind of stimulation might warrant a few soft moans or gasps, but nothing like the lusty cries that this woman was currently making. Tywin had enjoyed plenty of late nights with Joanna, and was not ignorant to what actually made a woman feel good, which was exactly how he knew that the current moans coming from below him were entirely exaggerated. 

Attempting to ignore it, Tywin simply shut his eyes again and chased his own pleasure. He wondered if he even should’ve bothered asking for a woman that looked like you, for he was not spending very much time with his eyes open. Well, it had at least been convincing when she’d taken him in her mouth. 

Already thinking of the subject, Tywin found himself imagining how you might moan. More than that, he imagined the way you might gasp his name and shudder as you did. Well, he was trying to. It was hard to do when the whore was quite so loud.

Opening his eyes and looking down at the woman, he decided he’d had enough. Perhaps it was rude, but as he gave the command he did not particularly care. “Hush. Be silent.”

The air felt tense for a moment as the whore silenced herself; she was certainly unaccustomed to men requesting such a thing. Normally, the more she moaned the more they enjoyed it. Well, it didn’t matter. She would stay quiet for the amount that she was being given.

Now that it was quiet besides the slapping of skin, Tywin felt free to give in to his fantasies. He ran his hands over the woman, though really he was running his hands over you. He craved the warmth of your skin, the feeling of you beneath his hands. 

His thrusts became stronger now, and Tywin groaned rather loudly as he gave the whore’s ass a firm squeeze. This was pathetic of him, and he knew that, but his lust for you was so immense that he couldn’t help it. More than that, he simply wished to kiss and hold you. He certainly would not do that to a whore.

Tywin licked his lips, swallowing and breathing heavily as he exerted himself. He could feel his orgasm approaching, and so he leaned over the woman a bit to hit a deeper angle inside of her. However, upon doing so, he inhaled her scent.

He thrusted a few more times as he processed it, but for some reason Tywin could not ignore the perfume she was wearing. It was rather nice, but it smelled nothing like yours did. For some reason, he’d been able to ignore every other difference, but this was his breaking point. He could not ignore just how different from you this woman was any longer, and he sighed out with disappointment—more in himself than anything—as he pulled out of her.

The whore turned her head to look back, confused at what had just happened. Tywin was pulling his pants up, and he walked over to his nightstand to fetch the coin purse for her.

“For your time,” he said, bringing it back over to her. She was sitting on the couch now, feeling rather displaced and anxious. She’d never had a man just full on stop without finishing before.

“My lord, I apologize if I was unsatisfactory. Would you- would you like someone else?” she asked, looking up at him with a sort of embarrassment. Tywin took a deep breath as she said it, shaking his head. He suddenly felt bad.

“No, don’t apologize. It wasn’t that. And I’m fine, thank you,” he said, trying to reassure her without revealing anything. Had he spent a night with her a year ago, he would’ve found it rather satisfactory. But that was obviously very different now. Tywin could’ve been given the most desired whore in the world and he still wouldn’t have been content. 

“Would you like me to be someone else..?” she trailed off, seeing the look in the Lord Hand’s eyes. It wasn’t the first time she’d dealt with a man who was clearly imagining another. Usually they had little shame in moaning other girls' names. 

Tywin only stared at her, handing her the coin purse and then stepping away. She nodded at him, not wanting to push it. She rose from the couch, grabbing her discarded dress and showing herself out through the tunnel. In the morning, Tywin would have a letter sent to seal the thing off. There was no use for it now.

The Lord Hand merely sighed, going to the small table and pouring himself some wine. Surely he was disgusting for this. He didn’t even want to think about how you would react if you knew he’d fucked a whore with you in mind. Again, the guilt came back to him as he considered that perhaps he was like every other man. Gods, it was horrible to love you and want you this way when he was 100% certain you did not feel the same in any capacity. 

Tywin sighed as he set his cup down and made his way over to the bed. He still had an erection to handle, and he supposed he’d get by just fine on his own. He undid his pants completely now, going fully nude and sitting on the edge of the mattress. 

He reached toward his nightstand, pulling out a handkerchief from inside the small drawer so he wouldn’t make a mess when he finished. Though, he wiped the whore’s slick off of himself first. As he did that, however, he noticed your handkerchief still sitting on top of the stand. He had eaten the cookie the morning you’d left, but he had not moved the cloth itself at all. 

An odd urge gripped Tywin, and he set aside the white cloth in his hand and instead reached for yours. He smiled fondly as he examined it, wondering if perhaps your sister or grandmother had embroidered the red roses around the edges of it, for you had once noted to him that you’d never been quite as good at it as them. The first letter of your name was also there in the corner, big and somewhat dramatic. It was pretty, and Tywin liked it. 

He intended to put it back on his nightstand, but a sudden whiff of flowers hit his nose and he instantly stopped. Slowly, with an unparalleled amount of hope, he brought your handkerchief up to his nose and inhaled. 

Smelling your perfume on it, he instantly exhaled and shut his eyes, allowing himself to fully take in the scent. Somehow, the familiarity of it made him feel as though he was holding you in his arms, or perhaps even just sitting beside you. 

Tywin Lannister had never imagined himself being overly fond of some floral scent, but suddenly he could not get enough of it. He found himself burying his nose in this damn cloth, laying back on the bed and getting comfortable as he continually inhaled. He was so obsessed with your scent that he nearly moaned out.

Before he could even fully process what he was doing, Tywin was reaching down with his free hand, taking a hold of his cock. He was practically throbbing now, and the ache for you was so intense that even the slightest pleasure—combined with the rosy perfume filling his lungs—made him shake.

He began to rub himself, slowly at first, as he moaned out. He could picture you sitting beside him, your hair perfectly messy and a smile on your face as you touched him. You would take joy in seeing him become a mess under your hands like this, wouldn’t you? Tywin gasped, handkerchief still pressed to his face.

He forced memories of you saying his name into his mind, his hold on his erection tightening now. He began to rub a little faster, breathing catching in his throat as he looked down at himself. Compared to the warmth of his hand, the feeling of the cold valyrian steel ring made him shudder. The texture of it was almost painful, but you had given him that ring. You had held it in your hands.

Again, he moaned out, still bathing in the scent of roses. In his mind you were still there beside him, watching him moan as you squeezed and tugged. He could see you, naked and beautiful as you tortured him this way. He wanted to kiss you.

He started to rub himself even more vigorously now, a moaning mess as his hips came up to meet his hand. Tywin practically whimpered, and his legs were beginning to shake. It was never like this when he touched himself. The scent of you alone had turned him into this.

“(Y/N)… (Y/N)! Oh gods… (Y/N)…” Tywin applied extra pressure to the tip of his cock, choking out your name with absolutely ecstasy. He could feel every single muscle in his body tensing, as though he were some sort of wild animal.

He found himself rolling onto his stomach, momentarily stopping and reaching for the body pillow against his headboard. With absolute desperation, he lifted himself up for just long enough to push it under him. Once he’d done that, his hand went straight back to doing what it had been before, and he groaned again.

The handkerchief was still against his nose, and with the pillow beneath Tywin, he could imagine himself on top of you. Not only that, but he felt your stomach pressing against his as your back arched, and he saw you throwing your head back with pleasure. 

Tywin moaned as he continued to pleasure himself, not caring at all how hot the room was growing. He was sweaty and tired, but your scent urged him to keep going; he listened quite obediently. 

He was thrusting into his hand—and the pillow as well—with extreme vigor, forehead pressed to the mattress as he panted out. Even if he’d wanted to, Tywin could not keep your name from his lips, especially as he imagined how you might shake and quiver beneath him in the midst of an orgasm.

He felt like a madman envisioning all the ways that he would take you. He wanted you beneath him, legs wrapped around his waist. Or perhaps he would kneel before you, thrusting with your legs over his shoulders. Then he would take you from behind, his hand on your back as your forearms collapsed beneath you out of sheer pleasure. Tywin wanted you on top of him, hips rolling against his as your breasts bounced and he sat up to kiss them. There was the scent of roses again.

Tywin shuddered, for there was too much on his mind. That was not all he wished to do to you. He saw himself inserting his fingers into you, curling and pumping as his thumb rubbed your clit. Surely that would make you sing his name, which was erotic enough as it was. Not only that, but the Great Lion imagined what it might be like to bury his face between your legs, holding them open as they shook. He would feast like a man starved.

Gods, it was a euphoric vision, and he’d found a particularly enjoyable rhythm with his hand. Tywin knew he was close, and his moans had become entirely pathetic, whiny and loud in a way they hadn’t been in years.

Suddenly, his abdomen squeezed tighter than before, his hand clenching around the handkerchief as he took another good inhale. Roses, roses and you. That was all that existed as he felt an all-consuming pleasure in his groin. 

The fresh cloth from earlier was entirely forgotten about, and Tywin did not care whatsoever as his seed spurted from his cock onto the pillow beneath him. He had surely ruined the case, but that was not even a thought to him as he cried your name out, so overwhelmed that his hand was forced to slow itself.

For a few seconds, the Great Lion was entirely frozen, moans becoming quieter and more relaxed as he came down from the peak of his orgasm. He had to swallow and catch his breath, exhaling deeply and blinking a few times to reorient himself. 

Tywin was so exhausted that he nearly fell asleep then and there, but the thirst in his throat forced him to roll over onto his back so that he’d wake up. He glanced over at the pillow, surprised at just how large his spend had been. He couldn’t recall the last time he’d spilled so much.

Your handkerchief was still in his hand, and he stared at it for a few seconds before bringing it to his nose again. The scent had previously aroused him, but now it was comforting. He suddenly wished to hold you, to pet your hair and kiss your head. 

Though, the reality of what he’d just done also hit him and drove utter shame and guilt into the Hand of the King. As if he had not degraded you enough by imagining you when he was with a whore. 

Tywin sighed, sitting up slowly and reaching for the cup on his nightstand. The wine felt good in his throat, not to mention it soothed whatever nerves were gathering in his stomach. He was overthinking now. 

As he laid back in bed and cleaned himself up, Tywin also thought about how you were doing at the present moment. It was weird having no contact with you, and it would stay that way until you arrived back at the Red Keep. At least, he prayed that was what would happen.

He merely sighed as he contemplated, pushing the body pillow off the bed and onto the floor. He slipped under the covers then too, trying to get comfortable. It was extremely late now, and there was no doubt in Tywin’s mind that he’d fall asleep rather quickly.

After all, the scent of roses still hung in the air around him, and he prayed that it would never fade away. Perhaps, for once in his life, the gods would listen.

TAGLIST:

@cheyxfu @lemonscoffee @groovy-lady 

@ladysindar @vesta-ro @exo-nova @paola-carter

@prettykinkysoul 

@fullmoonshadowwrites @kishie8 

@the-desilittle-bird @dianilaws @girlonfireice 

@muscari-fae @lostgirllulu 

@abigfanofgameofthrones @smalltownbigheart 

@frombloodandflesh @supernaturalismyreligion666

@thanyatargaryen @rey26 @hexandale @pkawaiidesu5394 @aimsro @gbatesx @lockleysgrl @alicefiresage @stargazingwatercolouredbeing @drwho-ess @mulletmcghee @mamawiggers1980

[nanamissuit]

Softdom Soap- softdom soap- softdom soap-!

Please. Both fluff and possibly the smooout??

Softie - Soap

pairing: Soap x fem! reader 18+. MINORS DNI

warnings: oral F! receiving, P in v mentions (no condom mentioned.)

SFW:

Softdom!Soap Who runs a bath for you after he’s tired you out, he lights candles,puts bubbles, and even dims the lights for you as he waits for the bath to fill up he cleans himself off then stops the water to come and carry you to your bath so he can clean the mess he made.

Softdom!Soap Who makes sure he doesn't bruise you too much after, he soothes your hips and definitely plays with your hair as he massages your bruised skin.

Softdom!Soap Who comforts you when even small things happen. A book you read is sad? He’ll make your favorite food and listen to you rant about it. Are you feeling off? He’ll cuddle you and absolutely make sure you’re 100% okay before even threatening to get up. You stub your finger against a counter? He’s kissing your hand and finger and putting ice on it.

Softdom!Soap Who comes home from deployment early to see you fell asleep on the couch with a half empty bowl of your favorite cereal and favorite show on. He then tucks a blanket over you successfully managing to quietly slip underneath you without you waking up.

Softdom!Soap Who has your favorite drink from your favorite coffee place memorized. Sometimes when you’re just not having a good day he’ll get his shoes on and tell you he has to quickly run to walmart but he goes to get you your favorite flowers and coffee all to see your face light up.

Softdom!Soap Who insists on carrying your bags while you shop. “Don’t want my princess's arms hurtin, ya?” He always says that to you while he takes all your bags with pride.

NSFW:

Softdom!Soap Who is 100% a pussy eater till the day he dies. He cannot get enough of your taste on his tongue, definitely eats you like a starved man.

Softdom!Soap Who says “Just the tip..I promise.” and then can’t help himself after 5 minutes and fully thrusts into you with no warning, he’ll let you adjust a bit but after 30 seconds he's at it.

Softdom!Soap Who whispers sweet praises instead of degrading things into your ear. “Ye doin s’good fa me lass..’’ “cmon I know you can take it luvie.” “Just one more round yeah?”

Softdom!Soap Who holds your hips down while he eats you out just enough so you can’t move but not hard enough to make you feel any pain, he doesn’t wanna hurt his baby.

Softdom!Soap Who always makes sure you're completely comfortable. He’ll put pillows underneath your head if you need, and if you need it under your waist he’ll do that as well.

Softdom!Soap Who likes to look you in the face as you finish so he can see all the pretty little scrunches in your face as you roll your eyes back and bite your lip he admires you.

Hopefully, I did well on this to<3 I really like this one!! I’m trying to get everyone's requests bare with me.

[guardian5tiger3]

Career/money Pick a Picture Tarot Reading

1. 2. 3.

Group 1

I feel that for you guys there's some connection to your heart here, some of you need to look in your heart. If you are not fully sure what you want to do exactly, this is definitely what you can do to help find the answers to that. Healing something within your heart may be needed if you do not know right now by looking within. So once your heart is healed you will feel there what you desire most. I'm picking up on the feeling of freedom. For some of you this has to do with travel. Maybe you want to read the second pile as well. I'm getting something about your families, and for someone something about a dog (s). Maybe for some of you, you have worries but you need to be honest with yourself and find that your priorities in your heart may be towards what you truly want to go do, and that it will be ok if you go forward with that. You guys will be happy. I want to tell you for those that may be worried about leaving anyone behind or being homesick, you will enjoy your present moment wherever you may find yourself, and that distance can grow fondness. I understand though, feeling you only have so much time on the topic of mortality. I have faith you all will figure it out, cause all I get now is the greatest feeling once your heart shows you clearly and you feel what it is you should go for, and it is so much love and freedom in it. Beautiful. Take your time though, this seems like a vague prediction in a sense, as destiny will be what it will be. Peace

Group 2.

You as a group seem that you really want advice and are really just wanting to take in anything I can give you all right now...you guys may be kind of guarded right now , mainly getting energetically. You guys have a big purpose, each one of you. Yes an airplane may *actually be significant. Some of you know then of course, one of you, it's an actually. And you don't even know it yet. I saw a little clock. So , with that I'm getting time of course. And right now it may be a matter of relying on that. I'm getting a lot about a spiritual like journey, but we don't have to put it that way, a journey of self discovery , self transformation. It's heavy, but I don't mean that in a negative sense. I mean, it's a deep thing you all are experiencing in what this is that we call life, your lives. A concept that seems to come into play with you guys and your journeys in life and what you will end up doing or for a few already doing, maybe just starting. If so you're young in this. The concept is about duality;within yourselves. Balancing your yin and yangs. You seem naturally very balanced people, in your spirits. I feel this is a reminder for some of you, to make sure you're not giving too much to the "good", "light" side, it's perfect when there is complete balance of the two opposites and embracing the dark side is not negative, it's necessary for both to prosper, and it is a positive thing. Both dark and light are naturally positive , like, good , but both can have bad qualities. When good is too much that is bad, kind of plain, can be too bright if you understand what I'm saying, hopefully. I'm getting something like spirit animals are significant, and wisdom. For a majority of you when it comes to career things, your soulmate or forever person is somehow involved/ going to be involved. I would just stay open to that so that things may go smoother if so. I'm not supposed to specify any further on that for whatever reason.

For right now, you're being guided, and do what you can and accept what you cannot do and know for now. It will come to you. You're on a specific path, trust that. And trust yourself. Every move you decide to make is for a reason, and I see that you will not fall. For any possible financial struggle , it's all for a reason, but maybe so to sympathize with other people in the world, for one. It may be so for a few of you to learn to ask for help and or to think further outside the box, the box being your mind and as far as it is expanded thus far. But you'll be okay. Peace and love.

Group 3.

You all may work with other people. I'm really picking up on desert vibes somehow for some reason,... Initially I picked up on a camel, actually. Maybe some of you have something to do with Egypt specifically too... Maybe you'll travel one day, maybe some of you live there, Im not sure but you'll know cause that's kinda specific... I'm also getting an oven , some of you have considered baking? Someone's family is involved already in some culinary business..

*side note, some of you aren't even meant to work. If you feel that, boom. There's your message. Go backpacking or just trust the universe on a level to work it out. Hell you can get an RV or something and go to a national forest and they'll let you stay there free if you help out working there. Nature rules! You'll figure it out.

You guys have some dope ancestry, just saying, I guess.. maybe you don't know and would be surprised about far back who was what from where I don't know. Anyway, If you have family who would hire you or help you get hired, that's nice and I'm supposed to tell you all that you should take any offer for that and basically give whatever it may be a try, but mainly you should be honest with yourself, it's OK if it isn't for you, it's OK if you love it or it just works and you stick to that. You know, I would say for instance some famous people have kids and they may want to hand down a legacy or business to their children, but what a shame if the child doesn't want that and yet some young person unrelated would love that to happen to them, if that makes sense. We're all children and family on this earth and there's no need for strict boundaries when it comes to bloodlines like that . Be true to yourself. Well if it's just you getting help to be hired, it's alright if you end up quitting or whatever even if for some of you feel like you'll be resented ,screw it don't live your life for anyone but yourself. Unless you have kids I guess... But still!.

Overall message for this group, if nothing else, let yourself be free.

[sorcerersandskillusers]

Odasaku's last words were exactly what Dazai needed to hear. And were the ONLY thing that could have freed him from the Mafia and, set him on the path to the light

“You should know this yourself. No matter whether you’re on the side of killing people or saving people, there will never be anything that can surpass your mind. There is no place in this world that can fill your loneliness. You will linger in the darkness forever.”

I've seen lots of people complain that Oda is being too cruel here, that he is destroying Dazai's hope that he could be better. BUT ITS THE COMPLETE OPPOSITE! The next paragraph in the light novel shows exactly why.

At this moment, Dazai realised for the first time.

Odasaku understood him far beyond what Dazai had ever thought. He had already reached close to his heart, the place near the centre of his heart. Before this, Dazai had never noticed there was someone who understood him so well.

For the first time in his life, Dazai wanted to know something from the depths of his heart. Hence, he brings up the question to the person before him.

“Odasaku… I… What should I do?”

Dazai truly believes deep down, that he is fundamentally broken; that he is not a human being, he is terrified of any hope that he might be able to find a reason too live because everything he wants is lost to him the moment he attains it.

If Oda had said "Dazai, you can be a good person if you try" or "Your human just like everyone else" Dazai would not have accepted it, he might have tried for Oda's sake, but he would not have seen how deep Oda's understanding of him was and thus would not have asked him that crucial question:

“Odasaku… I… What should I do?”

It's because Oda understands that Dazai cannot except his humanity that he can set Dazai on the right path. He does not tell Dazai that he will find a reason to live if he saves people, because Dazai would never believe that. instead he tells him that it will be a little more beautiful, which Dazai can hold onto and follow, and hopefully find that reason to live himself, without Oda telling where it can be found.

“Since both sides are the same, become a good person. Save the weak, protect orphans. Regardless of whether it’s justice or evil, to you, there isn’t a big difference between the two… But, doing that would be better.”

“How do you know that?”

“I know, I know this better than anyone else.”

Dazai looked at Odasaku’s eyes.

Odasaku’s eyes were filled with conviction. The words were clearly said with some sort of strong basis. was it past experience? Or perhaps someone’s suggestion? —He was trying to show Dazai the path he once walked. Dazai understood this.

Dazai could trust it.

“I understand… I’ll do that.”

Oda understood Dazai, deeply and truly, better then anyone else ever has and maybe ever will. His description of Dazai shows that perfectly:

"He's sharp witted with a mind like a steel trap. And he's just a child━a sobbing child abandoned in the darkness of a world far emptier than the one we're seeing."

He saw him for both the genius he is and the child he pretends not to be, and was the only person to ever reach both half's of Dazai's soul, he was his friend, simply and truly. The only one he ever had.

[respectthepetty]

Pit Babe Colors Ep. 7

I'm challenging myself with this show and seeing how good my color skills really are, so I'm doing my normal thing of watching it double-speed on mute, but now, the captions are off also. It's just colors and vibes here.

If I see this necklace on Charles later, *dragging finger across throat*

There is a barrier between y'all, so I'm hoping one of you has decided to come to your senses and tell the truth to Alan and Babe. Jeffrey is seeing accidents, so Jeffrey, hopefully you are seeing the light of truth too and will confess to Alan!

I like you, Way. I like you too much knowing damn well that you are lying, but you don't seem as red as before. It looks a little hot pink-ish now. Maybe because you're sad that Babe doesn't love you.

Get hit with the blinding light of love for this Blue Boy sitting next to you who has apparently been in love with you for years according to that pink from the last episode.

Peter, I TRUST YOU! Don't do me like this! This is pink, right? RIGHT? It's pink. You're in love with Waymond, and this is pink, not red. Pink.

I'm ignoring the Gucci red watchband because the way Peter is looking at Waymond and the fact that he put blue on Waymond is all I need to know that Peter sits at the same table with Kimberly, Kenta, and Alan as the people I trust.

How long have you been in love with him, Pete? The pink already snitched on you. Just tell me! Or did you leave it on the note? That'd be too easy. But that note better have said "Hey, I just 'met' you, and this is crazy, but here's my number, so call me maybe?" I ship it!

Kimberly! You've been a lot less red lately. The blues are gonna need a driver soon if Jeffrey's vision is right. You should apply!

KENTA IS RIGHT THERE, KIMBERLY! Lose focus and have a consensual workplace relationship.

Wait a minute? It's Decanus and . . . there's only one man who consistently wears black, but I refuse to believe that he would meet with Decanus. No. That's another man in black. I cannot see the faces clearly, so I will not accuse *sobs* Kenta.

These two are best friends. I can tell.

AHHHH! Charles is meeting with Big Red, yet he is wearing blue! Is he being kidnapped? No. He just walked away. But now he is surrounded by blue. Charles!!!!! I know you are lying, but the blue is saying . . . something! But Big Red is listening.

Oh thank, God! Way is turning over a new leaf and committing to being a blue boy. Good.

No. NO! Barbara, I know you are upset at Charles for lying (which your super spidey senses should have alerted you about because the red was there), but why do you keep doing this to Way? He was committed to the blue! Pete likes him. Stop!

NO, WAYMOND, NO! JUST LET BABE BE SAD AND MISERABLE. DON'T DO IT!

Tell him to get his hands off of you, Barbie! That's how they keep getting you! Do not fall for his bullshit!

Is this story about Charlie?! OH SHIT! *telenovela fall to the floor*

I don't want you to get slapped, Kentana, but there is only one man who wears black consistently, and that's you. You ARE planning something with Decanus, aren't you?! Do. Not. Hurt. Barbie. I trust you!

Oh shit! Barbie is realizing it's the touches! I tried to warn you, homie. I did. I said, "Barbie, don't let them touch you!" Now, figure out that Waymond keeps touching you too. Don't get dickmatized again. I need you to stay focused! BARBIE, FOCUS! Waymond. Superpowers. Punch them!

Barbara, the dick is not that good for you to forgive him already! Barbara, I'm so mad at you right now. I'm only rooting for Kimberly and Alan now. You and Kentana are on my shit list.

Did the note from Peter ask for a date?! Waymond, horrible choice of red roses with a red ribbon for a date with Peter or . . . is this your villain era? No! This is a date with Peter! *dances happily*

I mean this from the depth of my soul - Whatever happens now, you're on your own, Barbara. You figured out what Charles was doing to you, and you are just cool with it? I know he, too, had a crappy childhood, but he did all that without your consent, and you're okay with it? The red is still there! He just took from you something you can't get back, without your consent. This is metaphorical, and I wish you, a fictional character, could see that.

Did Peter really not show up for y'alls date?! Did something happen to Pete?! WHERE IS HE?! Did Big Red kidnap him?! Wait, Peter can text but not show up for a date? I don't believe it.

I'm gonna break my own rule, and translate the text messages because I have no colors to guide me, and I'm very confused why Peter would not show up when he has been in love with Waymond for awhile. The colors don't lie. Peter would show up!

Google Translate: "Sorry, I just finished clearing things up with Charlie" Wait a minute. Charlie? Was Waymond texting Babe because he was sad Peter didn't show up for dinner? This still doesn't make sense.

Or . . . Waymond's at his and Babe's restaurant, and Babe said "sorry." It wasn't a date with Peter was it? This was a date with . . . oh, you have to be shitting me. PETER IS RIGHT THERE IN LOVE WITH YOU, PENDEJO!

I'm in no mood for North and Sonic's color shenanigans. I'm too pissed off to even yell at Sonic for wearing red over the blue. Whatever. Be a back-stabber too. No me importa.

WHAT THE FUCK?! NOT KIMBERLY!

If anything happens to Kimberly, I'm burning down this whole site! He's a good one! Kentana, you better get your shit together and save your man! If Kentana and Barbara save Kimberly, I'll take them off my shit list. Even Charles will get some leeway.

Whiny Winifred, why are you pointing a gun at . . . SONIC AND NORTH?! I know I wrote I didn't care about y'all earlier, but I do! Y'all can't die until I figure out what the deal is with y'alls colors!

Barbara is wearing the same outfit in the previews that he is wearing when he punches people in the hallway!

Mission: Save Kim Possible!

[vamp0rivm]

PICKING UP THE ———- PIECES -———

ch. 1

ch. 2

ch. 3

ch. 4

ch. 5

ch. 6

a/n: short first chapter 🫤 also BORING AS FOCK but the next few will be longer and better, just stick with me cw: implied depression/ptsd, dark themes, not too heavy but please don’t read if this might trigger you, angst, no smut in this chapter but there might be some later on, creds to cafekitsune for dividers, MDNI 😡

Six months ago today, your gaunt figure limped through Jackson for the first time, arms scarred and trembling, and face adorned with a vacant expression. You’ve been here for a while now.

You heard Maria say, with time, you’d come out of your shell - actually speak to the others. But, no, you still stay holed up in your decaying room, recalling what happened that day obsessively, and only ever leaving to go on patrol. Only when you absolutely have to.

God, you don’t even know if you can call this grief anymore. Seems as though you built a nest in the sorrow. Would it still be considered missing him if you desperately want to stop seeing his face whenever you close your eyes.

Fuck, don't say that. Never say that.

Promise I still love you, big brother. Promise I'd do anything to see you again.

Well, nobody really pays you any mind; you just sink into the shadows of the shitty little apartment you've been put in. And it doesn’t matter to you because the thought of getting close to people again makes you sick anyway.

Never wanna feel this pain. Never again. Fuck, just go away, please.

I'm so sorry, Soren.

You’ve waited it out for months but, at this point, you've given up hope. Feels like maybe it’s time to go be on your own. You know it’s dumb, but you haven’t got much to live for now that he’s gone.

Late night, you crawl into the comfort of misery, chaining yourself to each painful memory; you cannot leave a single shard behind. Not one.

You will carry this with you for the rest of your days.

Somewhere along the line, dark fades to light and your mind goes blank for the first time in an eternity as you get up to follow that same routine.

Today, same as yesterday, and yesterday's yesterday, and yesterday's yesterday's yesterday, etc., etc., your partner is Ellie.

Maria seems to think the two of you are acquaintances, especially since the extroverted people around your age hadn't been able to drag much more than a few words out of you, but you don’t really talk, you stay out of each other’s ways.

You struggle to keep the smile up against the pushback of your aching cheeks when you’re talking to other people. Can never let them see.

Not even for a good reason. God, it’s just such an effort to talk about. It’s better for it to just nestle in your mind, where it’s made it’s home, where it’s comfortable.

Maybe part of why you stay out of each other’s ways is because you'd inadvertently come off as a dick during your first encounter, which would've been enough to push the already closed off Ellie to not interact with you at all. You weren't actually being rude though; she's hopefully figured that out at this point. She probably just got used to the interactions between you; silence dusted with passive aggressive remarks.

But, she doesn’t say much when you freak the fuck out if a clicker comes at you in a way that brings back memories. You’re grateful, regardless of her reason for doing so.

Perhaps it's the thought of leaving that is the spur to prick your sudden violence and, now, even you can tell you're getting worse. The feeling - it ensnares you like a bear trap when you see a clicker, so you fire frantically at its head. Blood splatters all over your front and you pull at the hem of your shirt to get a better look, mumbling, "Shit..." when you see the white fabric soaked through with the clicker's blood; cold water to the face.

Among the chaos, you must have turned on your foot weirdly, because your ankle feels like a stake has been stabbed right through it with each movement and you don’t know if you can walk.

Ellie finally manages to trace the sound of the gunshot to you after calling your name in worry for the past couple of minutes, running over to you. She pulls you around and looks over your jittery body for anything to worry about - brushes a thumb over the wet material, jerking it away before you can notice; you’re hyper aware, so you always manage to anyway - and then furrows her brows at you.

“Can you stop fucking around?”

You nod apologetically,

"Sorry. Feeling a bit out of it today..."

She sighs, still clearly angry, and turns away, "Let's go. We’re done here.”

You watch her figure retreat as you mount your horse with shaky footing. The ride back is a silent one. Once you reach the gates, you get off and pat the horse’s side. It has a name; you never cared to learn it. Maybe you knew you couldn’t stick around for long.

“Come on. Why are you just standing there?"

When your eyes meet hers, you feel utterly pathetic, but you don't have much of a choice.

“Can you… find, like, a stick? A big one...”

She stays quiet for a moment, seemingly thrown off by your question, so you're quick to add,

“I would do it but... I don't know, fuck, never mind...”

Ellie raises an eyebrow at you, her line of sight flicking down to your ankle as she takes note of your awkward stance and mutters with a sigh that makes you feel small, "Pain in the ass," before shaking her head.

"Yeah, it looks pretty bad," Ellie says after she crouches down and touches the wound, eliciting a pained wince (and a farewell to your last shred of dignity) from you.

She rises to her feet and brushes herself off as you wait for more of a response.

"Stick, right? You want a stick?"

You nod with a clenched jaw. She keeps looking down at you and the constant anticipation is starting to piss you off.

"No, you gonna ask for what you really need?" she says. "And drop the whole ‘tough guy’ act?"

You chuckle dryly, turning your eyes to the floor.

"You ever considered that maybe I actually am just a tough guy?"

“Ha ha,” she states in monotone, “Think you gave away the fact that you're not when you started crying over a twisted ankle," to which you raise an eyebrow at her.

“Uh, okay, nothing you just said was true, but, sure. Sure.”

“Yeah? Come over here and say that with some heart then, tough guy.”

You manage to take a few steps before falling.

"Yeah, that’s what I thought. Gonna need to be carried back," Ellie says.

“What about the big ass stick?”

“What is i-Fuck. Listen, even if that helps, which it won’t, you’d wreck your ankle even more and everyone’d be on my ass about it. So, quit talking and get over here," she says, reaching over to lift you off the floor.

You grimace jokingly, but Ellie doesn’t pick on the humorous nature of your words, “Oh. No piggyback?”

Ellie sighs, turning and crouching in front of you before you get on.

"I swear to god, you're infuriating," she sneers. "Now put your arms around my neck."

You’re acting slightly outside the confines of your silent, gloomy self again, and pretend to strangle her, “Since you asked so nicely.”

And you laugh at your own joke as you properly wrap your arms around her neck

"I'm glad you're having a good time; at least one of us is enjoying ourselves,” she grits out but you can hear the repressed smile in her voice.

“Okay, okay, I’m sorry.”

"Good. Now shut up and enjoy the ride." Ellie says before turning her gaze back to the front.

As the two of you make your way through the fairly empty paths of Jackson, Ellie remains silent, her expression unreadable.

You keep your eyes focused on her, the small puff of air that leaves her mouth with each step, and staying quiet as your chin finds itself resting casually upon her shoulder

After a few minutes of walking in silence, Ellie finally speaks up again. Her voice is so close, the warmth of her breath and heat.

“You got them girls off your ass yet?”

“Who? The ones that are trying to... befriend me?”

“Mhm, the ones that you’re kinda friends with.”

“Yeah, they quit trying.”

"Don’t blame you… I mean, I can understand, but don’t make it too obvious.”

“I’d rather not-“

“Right, it’s just- well, if you want to be alone, fine. I… can even… make sure those assholes don’t bother you, or whatever- but, not on patrol! Don’t go wandering around on your own like that ever again. It’s dumb."

“I know, I just got caught up in the moment. Sorry.”

"Good."

A heavy silence befalls the two of you as she trudges on.

"Why are you so damn heavy?" she eventually mutters.

You lift your head off her shoulder reflexively, aware of your weight pulling her down all of a sudden,

“Sorry.”

Ellie looks over her shoulder at you, her eyebrows knitted in unexpected concern,

“Hey… I was kidding.”

“Right… I knew that…”

“Yeah, yeah, whatever," she says. "Hm, look at that, we made it," gently patting your thigh before pushing the doors open. "Time to get off."

You slowly slide off her back, making sure to land on your good leg as you watch her search the area curiously in a waiting, one-footed stance.

She returns after a second, picking you up to place you on top of one of the quaint, makeshift hospital beds before she begins rummaging through the supplies. You watch her muscles flex and then, the sight of a woman you'd seen around captures your focus.

"What happened to her?" the woman asks, causing Ellie to lift her head, looking down at you.

"Twisted my ankle."

"Well, obviously," her tone is laced with sarcasm. "My question was how you twisted your ankle."

"Turned weird."

Your response earns you a bemused raise of her blonde eyebrows, "Alright, whatever," she says, pulling up a chair and sitting before you.

After a short, boring while, she lets go of your leg and looks up at you again,

"So, you got a sprain. I'm gonna have to wrap your ankle up, alright?"

A lock of her hair continuously pesters her as she begins carefully tending to your ankle, pulling fresh bandages taut around the injury.

"It's gonna stay sensitive for a few days," the woman states, "And you shouldn't walk on it for at least a week."

She places a hand upon Ellie's shoulder, pulling her out of the deep-end of her thoughts, and turning her away from you. A muffled, but aggressive, hushed conversation ensues between them as you glance around the room restlessly, only making out the irritated tone of Ellie's responses. It ends with her pinching her nose bridge and mumbling a, "Fine," and they're facing you again.

The woman gives the two of you a nod before exiting the room,

"You two be safe out there."

“Alright. I’ll take you home. Now, get on," she turns, arms out, backpack on her front, as she waits for you to get onto her back again.

The route to your place is short and quiet as night blankets the world, or what’s left of it. Before you know it, she's pushing open the door and setting you down on yet another tattered bed - your own.

You hiss at the contact your ankle makes with the bed, but Ellie seems unfazed, patting your thigh in the same way she did before, the way that made your stomach twist,

“You gonna be okay?”

You nod, though her deadpan tone doesn’t leave much room for the honest truth.

“Alright, well… I’ll get going, then.”

There’s a stark contrast in life between her coming and going; the constant rustling of the fabric of her coat and the sound of her heavy winter boots against your creaky floorboards, the sound of her sniffles and low voice, and the flurry of gusts of nippy winds whistling - all shut out with the cold of the outside once she closes the door behind her. Well, most of it.

Now, you’re left with the bite of cold air and the deafening silence that haunts you as you sit still upon your mattress with darkness cast over the room, seeming to melt everything together.

[tibbythetiger]

Hello friendsssss! We have an official tag on AO3, we’ve all grown so much in just a few days. Amazing work all around! 

I’m just dishing out some general HCs today! Hopefully, I can actually get the time to turn my main DreamTheory meeting as coworkers at Sparky’s into a real fic soon! 

Both of them enjoy their height difference greatly. Mike usually hates feeling smaller or shorter than people, but he’s never met someone as genuine and nice as Ness so it doesn’t bother him, and makes him feel kinda safe. Ness just loves his pocket-sized boyfriend. 

I know someone else has already said this, but Ness with freckles!!!! Ness with freckles is so very important to me. I think they’re super light during most of the winter, but once it gets warmer and the sun comes out they’re fairly noticeable. Mike likes to kiss each one he can find, it always makes Ness laugh. 

I know we all agree that Ness is Conspiracy Boyfriend, and I agree! I think he particularly loves those paranormal ghost-hunting shows that were super popular back in 00’s, and he’s a HUGE Unsolved Mysteries fan. When he’s looking to get the same thrill but looking for more fictional media, he loves the Twilight Zone. 

Mike makes a mean grilled cheese and tomato soup, this is in part because it’s Abby’s favorite food and he decided if he had to make anything really well it would be this. Ness actually doesn’t like grilled cheese, but Abby talked it up so much he gave it a try and he ended up really liking it. It is one of Mike’s proudest moments. 

I think Ness is really good with kids, he seems to me the type that was the oldest cousin at parties. (This is just projection), so he’s used to having younger kids following him around and having to keep them entertained. While he’s used to it, he’s really genuine and loves doing it. He’s always overjoyed to hang out with Abby, and she adores him because of it. 

Ness and Mike cannot draw to save their lives! They are horrible at it, Abby likes to hold “drawing classes” where she tries to show them how she makes her masterpieces. Ness always tries hard, but it’s just not his strong suit. 

They are the couple that slow dances in the kitchen or living room. Mike is always reluctant about it, he’s fairly paranoid at romantic gestures, and he’s always scared someone will see them, but he always enjoys it when Ness convinces him it’s okay. Abby thinks it’s the most magical thing, so she draws the two of them as princes when they dance during a Disney movie night.  

Ness absolutely tells Mike and Abby stories to help them sleep. They both think he has the most soothing voice, Ness just loves being able to help them, sometimes he’ll even sing to them, but he’s still really shy about it. 

I think Ness really loves listening to musical soundtracks, but he’s also a pop girly through and through, like, he loves Kelly Clarkson, Paris Hilton, and Brittany Spears. Meanwhile, Mike doesn’t listen to music super often, he usually lets Abby or Ness pick. Otherwise, I feel like he’s really into grunge or early rock. He listens to Nirvana sure, but also Radio Head. (I also think he’s a very big Weezer fan) 

I think Mike is a big writer, he started journaling to help him take note of his dreams/memories of Garrett, then really leaned into it once his parents were out of the picture since he didn’t really have anyone else to turn to to vent. Sometimes he can be a little poetic, and he’ll write lil notes to Ness and leave them in his apron or pockets for him to find later. 

Ness thinks this is simply the cutest thing he’s ever seen actually, and attempts to do the same thing. He’s a little cheesier, and are usually filled with lil hearts and things doodled around them, but he sticks them on the mirror or on Mike’s alarm clock. Mike saves everyone he finds and slowly they start to cover the walls in his bedroom. 

The three of them cannot have board game nights. They are all waaaay too competitive, and the last time they played Uno and Ness won, Mike pouted so much and Abby locked herself in her room. They settle for movie nights or puzzles when they’re doing things the three of them. 

When Abby first starts dabbling in painting her nails, she practices on Ness and Mike. Eventually Ness and Abby usually just have matching nails, Ness doesn’t let the looks he gets bother him any. 

Abby absolutely knows they’re dating, Mike tries not to keep secrets from her, especially after the debacle of Freddy’s, and what happened with the Aunt. She’s too young, so she doesn’t get why people are weird about it, but she understands enough that she can’t tell anyone that Mike and Ness are dating. When she does talk about them, most people assume Ness is a girl, just because of his name. Abby just stops correcting people, the only person outside of them who knows is Abby’s therapist(?), but she supports Mike so it’s not really an issue. 

Ness loves stealing Mike’s sweaters and coats, they’re so much bulkier than the ones that Ness buys himself, so they’re so comfortable. In the winter, he’ll steal them and wear them to work or around the house. Mike grumbles and pretends he cares, but he thinks Ness looks cute in them. 

Ness has the worst road rage, Mike is both horribly amused and terrified of this when it occurs. Ness always apologizes afterward usually followed up by an “If people could just learn how to drive, I swear to GOD”  

Mike and Abby will go into Sparky’s when Ness is working just to get desert and to see him. Most of the employees at Sparky’s know there’s something going on between Ness and Mike, but they all let it remain unspoken. It seems like everyone is taking good care of each other, so no one decides to interfere.  

Well, that’s all I have for now! I’m really loving seeing everything everyone is putting out, and getting to read everyone’s work and see their art is amazing!

[cyanide-mustard]

Chapter 7 ~ I don't have the words to describe (how much you mean to me)

On Ao3:

Chapter 7: Viktor Falls

Summary:

Viktor falls, but it's not the type of fall he's used to.

Notes:

Thanks for all the love and comments, I adore reading what you guys think! Here's the alphabet and translations are always in the end! :) A=𝜩, B=𝜣, C=𝝃, D=𝛴, E=𝜓, F=𝝇, G=𝝋, H=𝝺, I=𝛃, J=𝝣, K=𝝥, L=𝟄, M=𝟇, N=𝞖, O=𝝠, P=𝝮, Q=𝞈, R=𝞀, S=𝞏, T=𝞔, U=𝞒, V=𝞃, W=𝝸, X=𝞹, Y=𝞾, Z=𝞙

“Yes yes we will be fine, we will have a nice night of wine and art while you go schmooze with the elite of Piltover”

“You two can come with me?” Jayce asks hopefully “You can drink yourself under the table,” he tells Viktor before looking at James “and you can hang out with Cait”

“I love a party but I am very not interested in meeting rich people who will ask me questions in very fast Piltovian. Maybe next time” She pats his bicep in consolation.

Jayce walks out the door with his sad puppy dog eyes. “If I don’t return home I’ve been eaten alive by the Piltovian elite”

“Yes yes, Drahý, we will miss you profoundly”

“Your funeral will be the event of the century”

Viktor snorts at James’ comment. Soon after, the two leave to head for one of the art studios at the academy.

The art studio is a bright and open room with a skylight glass dome ceiling. There’s a mix of seating and work setups with different medium options throughout the room, some James is familiar with, others she is not.

The room is filled with warm lighting and there’s a large terrace that draws her eye.

“Why can’t this be your lab,” James says in exacerbation.

“I think the council would get sick and tired from constantly replacing the planes of glass”

“Or they do not replace them and you could finally get some fresh air”

“What are you implying?”

“You and Jayce are two all-nighters away from becoming reclusive hermits”

“I will not dignify that with a response” He huffs, “but I will say good work on expanding your vocabulary”

He moves over to the area with all the materials.

“Do you know what you would like to use?”

“This is new” she picks up an odd-looking pen before picking up a set of compressed charcoal “but maybe I have too much new in my life. Tonight I would like something I know, I want some familiar”

“Something familiar to soothe the soul” He knows the feeling all too well. Coming to Piltover had been the opportunity of a lifetime but it was alienating, to say the least. He left all he knew to a city where the people looked down on him more than they already did.

Viktor moves onto the terrace overlooking Piltover, he sits on a chair that supports his back and an easel in front of him so he can look over the city. He dips his pen into a pot of black ink before starting on the page in front of him.

James sits beside him but on an angle so he cannot see her page and they sit for a little bit in silence as they start on their pieces.

Viktor shifts in his seat before asking James “Did you make art back in your world?”

She looks at him before answering.

“I did, but not always. When I was younger I had hard time with making art. I wanted it always to be perfect but art is never perfect, so I stopped and then I did not practice and I just got worse. It became this cruel cycle that I would torture myself with. I did it in every part of my life but it was particularly bad with art.”

“And now?”

“I am better with it now, but sometimes I catch myself falling into the same habits”

“What do you do when you fall into habits again??”

“It depends. I let myself take a small break but then I push through the doubt. If I try I could become better, but if I do not even try, I will never be more than what I am now”

Viktor digests her response, the words weighing heavy on him.

“People from the undercity, from Zaun are not valued here or not viewed the same as the people of Piltover. Being here I feel I must always be perfect or they will feel justified in seeing me as lesser. All my work must be perfect, I must be perfect, both inside and out”

“I know it is not the same but if you spend your whole life trying to fit their standards you will spend your life wasting away because you will be living it for other people” She meets his eyes again. “I think you are perfect just the way you are Viktor. You fight your battles when you can but I have found the only opinions I should care about are those of the ones closest to me”

“And who are those closest to you?”

The question’s impact on James is clear the second it leaves his mouth. He feels like he picked at a scab and is now watching it start to bleed again.

“I do not know anymore, many of my friends and family are not with me anymore”

“I am sorry, I did not mean to pry”

“It is okay, I still have friends, they are just not that close to me. I had two little brothers but they are gone now. I miss them very much,” she says with a small smile, there is sadness in her voice but it does not weigh her down. She will always carry it but as one goes on, you become used to it.

He rethinks the scab. Yes, peeling it off hurts but feeling the warmth of the blood and placing a band-aid on it brings some sort of odd comfort, as if yes this caused me pain but there will always be warmth and healing afterwards. And once the scab is gone, it doesn’t hurt but it will leave a scar, a reminder of what was.

“I never had any siblings growing up, I always wondered what it was like”

“Very loud” she giggles at her answer, reminiscing at memories, “almost like living with you and Jayce”

“I am glad we are making you feel so welcome” he responds sarcastically

“No no, I feel welcomed with you. You and Jayce are new, but I feel like I know you, you feel familiar, you feel like 𝝺𝝠𝟇𝜓”

He does not understand the last word but he senses the loaded emotional weight behind it. James clears her throat before starting on her piece again. A sly grin works its way onto her face before she speaks again.

“I especially love the singing in the shower”

“You heard that?”

“Yes, I remember when that one new song came out and all Jayce could do was sing it and eventually you started sing it too”

“Ugghh do not remind me, you will get it stuck in my head again”

“Woe is me, I will have to listen to your beautiful singing again, whatever will I do” She bats her lashes playing up a damsel.

“Do not mock me, my weak heart cannot take it”

“Me mock you? Never”

They carry on throughout the night, bantering and dipping in and out of comfortable silence and conversation, until they hear a loud voice from behind the doors.

“VVVIKKKKKTORRRRRRRRR!!!!!!!!!!! JAAAAAAAMMMMESSSSS!!!!!!”

Jayce pushes the doors wide open, almost falling on his face in the process. When he sees the two he breaks out into a sprint to get to them.

“Jayce quiet down you big himbo”

“He’s so mean to me” he whines, lying down on the same sofa James is, placing his head on her lap.

“Awww poor baby,” She says while running her fingers through his hair. “Did you have fun at the party?”

“No” he says with a petulant frown “They poked at me all night, paraded me around like some exotic pet. All I wanted was to be with you and Viktor instead”

“Well, you are here now”

When Viktor looks at the pair sitting on the sofa, he expects to feel a twinge of jealousy but all he feels is comfort watching the two. He actually thinks he’d fit right in with the pair.

Jayce gasps.

“Did you draw this? James, this is incredible! It looks just like him!”

Pink blush finds its way onto James’ cheeks as her art is revealed.

“I normally draw people and Viktor was the only person here tonight” she says bashfully.

Viktor moves closer to the pair, seeing her drawing for the first time tonight, he is shocked by the detail and level of shading she achieved. He’s also slightly sheepish to be seeing himself on the large paper.

“It is very good, although I am normally not the subject of people’s artwork”

Jayce whispers, or what drunk Jayce considers whispering, into James' ear.

“I have about 5 sketchbooks at home that are full of him” James giggles at his words, “Don’t believe a word he says, he’s a compulsive liar”

Viktor sits beside the two, enjoying the bubble that seems to have enveloped the three. He thinks of how their friendship is and how James has made her way into their little family. James is such an amazing friend.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The next day Viktor wakes up to a note on Jayce's side of the bed informing him that he and James have gone off to work in the forge. Viktor may be able to handle his alcohol well (to a certain point), but as seen last night Jayce absolutely cannot. However, the difference between the two men is that Jayce will never get a hangover no matter how much he drinks, while Viktor will get the most mind-rotting headache if he drinks too much.

Viktor walks into the forge and for a second he isn’t sure if he’s still alive. He’s never believed in gods but feels like he’s being tested by one with the scene in front of him. Jayce is pulling the handle to heat up the hearth; he’s shirtless, muscles on full display, sweat dripping down his chest. That alone is enough to stop him in his tracks but what he sees beside Jayce is enough to short-circuit his brain; James is standing over an anvil, repeatedly swinging a hammer onto a piece of metal. She and Jayce have matching marks of soot all over them but how James contrasts him is that her muscle definition only shows when she swings the hammer. She’s covered in a sheen of sweat and hairs fly out of her ponytail. And oh yeah the only top she’s wearing is a sports bra. Viktor can see from where he’s standing, her breasts pushed closer to her body and the expanse of her stomach. He thinks he’s going to pass away or cum in his pants. He wants to see her like this while she rides him. The sounds of exertion she makes with every swing are the sounds he wants to hear every time he thrusts into her.

The realization hits him just like James hitting the hammer onto the rod of metal. He then feels incredibly stupid at his thoughts from last night. For such a smart man he was so very dumb when it came to his own emotions. He’s also very good at lying to himself. Ha friend. Sure, she’s a friend, if by a friend you mean someone you want to fuck 8 ways to Sunday and then watch them fall asleep in your arms.

“Viktor!” James notices him standing there, “Look! I am making a knife!”

Jayce places an arm around her shoulders. “She’s making a dagger. I thought she should have her own weapon 'cause she keeps using our screwdrivers” He says with a laugh. Viktor wants to strangle Jayce for laughing when he’s in such a state of distress.

As the two move closer, they notice Viktor’s practically drooling face.

“Jayce has never heard of PPE or a shirt” James comments assuming it’s his boyfriend that has his face so flush.

“And yet who also took off their shirt”

“This is my first time at a forge, I was just following you!”

“It’s better to do it without a shirt, that way all the energy and rage of the forge goes directly to you,” He says while trying to hide a shit-eating grin.

“Ha that’s such bullshit, Jayce 𝞾𝝠𝞒 ’𝞀𝜓 𝟇𝞾 𝝇𝜩𝞃𝝠𝞒𝞀𝛃𝞔𝜓 𝝺𝛃𝟇𝜣𝝠,” she says affectionately.

“Gods, the flames of hell would be less torturous than this” Viktor muttered.

“What did you say, Viktor?” James asks.

For a moment Viktor feels a little guilty and then he sees the look of adoration on Jayce’s face when he looks at James’ face. Viktor then decides that he is allowed to be in love with James.

“Nothing lásko”

Translations:

𝝺𝝠𝟇𝜓 = home, 𝞾𝝠𝞒 ’𝞀𝜓 𝟇𝞾 𝝇𝜩𝞃𝝠𝞒𝞀𝛃𝞔𝜓 𝝺𝛃𝟇𝜣𝝠 = you’re my favourite himbo Translation for Viktor: Lásko = Love

Notes:

Please let me know what you think! Any love or feedback is always welcomed!

Taglist: @im-just-a-simp-le-whore

[lilithofpenandbook]

Do you think Severus saw Dumbledore as the father he never had? I feel like, all the time they worked together and how Dumbledore trusted Severus more than anyone, Severus had to develop a close relationship with him. Dumbledore told Severus he is so lucky to have him and that he is a very brave man. I mean you can tell that having to kill him, I mean it broke him internally. I feel like they went from uneasy allies at first, to close friends, to basically being like a father and son. I betcha when Severus died, besides reuniting and finally having Lily’s forgiveness, Dumbledore was also there to tell Severus how proud he is of him and that he was the bravest man of them all

Oh, absolutely! I live for the father/son dynamic Dumbledore and Severus have.

Their very story reads like that of a father and his estranged son to me. At the start, Severus was let down by Dumbledore his entire school life, especially when it came to the infamous werewolf 'prank' (which I won't call a prank, it's more of a nasty trick). Snape was so clearly the victim yet he was the one silenced and I can imagine that James and Sirius got away with minimal punishment (Remus, in this at least, was innocent) too despite how horrific their actions were. James, at least, got 'cold feet' and saved Severus but Sirius, even in adulthood, has no remorse for any of it. They geniunely deserved severe punishment for it, and while I cannot remember if any consequences were mentioned, I wouldn't be surprised if there weren't any and I wouldn't even fault Dumbledore for that. His main goal was to protect Remus and allow him to experience a normal youth and Remus was entirely innocent in this situation. Punishing Sirius and James to the exent they deserved would have drawn attention to the situation- the punishment would not be a secret, but the cause would be, and it could have led to far worse outcomes. Honestly, Sirius's stunt put Dumbledore in an impossible situation, and Dumbledore took the path which could hopefully minimise damage. Better to have a child resentful and bitter, than a child potentially executed, after all. Yet to poor Severus, what did it look like other than the headmaster playing favourites? The fact that the Mauraders happened to be Gryffindors would not have helped either. It's much like watching a father favour the sons that resemble him over his quieter, less masculine one, regardless of justice. I wouldn't be surprised that this was the moment that sealed Severus's decision into choosing the dark over the light, not after the light let him down so badly.

And yet, what happened when Severus needed help? When he was in a situation he was too young, too small to fix? He ran straight back to Dumbledore. That entire scene is like the estranged son coming home to me. The fear, the begging, the fact that Severus came to someone who let him done so badly (just like how many people still return to parents that let them down because they still need them), the way Dumbledore admonishes Severus so harshly. The way Dumbledore admonished him later too, when he wanted to die, and you can call it 'manipulation', but to me it's a father saving his son from a path he's walked before. That harshness from Dumbledore, it saved Severus, it's what Severus needed even if it hurt him.

And then how Dumbledore asks Severus to be the one to kill him, soley because he wants to die with his dignity intact, he wants to die painlessly. And Severus, so opposed to killing, so afraid for his own soul, still agrees to do so even though he hated to do it. That level of love they have for each other, how Dumbledore's thought of a good death, now that his hours were numbered, was to be killed by Severus, how Severus agreed to risk his soul for Dumbledore, that's beyond any regular relationship. There's a theory too, that Severus's killing curse wasn't what killed Dumbledore, the fall was, based on the fact that Harry's body bind curse did not end until the fall ended, and if you entertain that as a possiblity, that adds to the love Severus had for Dumbledore, that the love prevented his curse from actually killing like it should have, because he did not want Dumbledore to die. And I've already talked multiple time in other posts about how much Severus lost too with this kill. He quite literally lost everything, everyone, and walked alone, carrying Dumbledore's plan with him.

And that too adds to the father/son imagery I see in them. Severus inherited Dumbledore's plan, and he alone knew the truth. He complained to Dumbledore that he only knew half-truths, yet he probably knew more than anyone. He literally inherited Dumbledore's plan, Dumbledore's position, he became the chess-master when Dumbledore was gone. The only person who knew the truth after him was Harry, who Severus passed it on to. That, to me, is like the eldest brother passing the family secrets on to the younger one (and don't get me started on the brother imagry in Harry and Severus, I'll be here forever).

Not only that, their arcs just mirror each other perfectly. Young, isolated men who get caught up in the allure of darkness which leads to a girl they love being killed as a consequence. That night on the hill, Dumbledore was looking at someone who was walking in his footsteps. Him recuiting Severus, to me, wasn't just the move of a clever general who knew at once a valuable informant was at his feet, but the actions of a father wanting to save his son from walking down his own fate. Not only that, but it must have occured to Dumbledore that Severus didn't need to give him anything. Dumbledore would have protected the Potters regardless, and both he and Severus must have known it, and he must have known what Severus was willing to give, considering he asked Severus "What will you give me in return?" and not "Give me your service in return?". So, to me in any case, Dumbledore wasn't just making use of an opportunity, he was giving Severus a way out of the darkness without making it seem that way. And not only did he save Severus, Severus ended up become his heir.

Albus Dumbledore was probably the closest thing to a father Severus ever had. Tobias was the first abuser Severus had, and Voldemort was, uh, Voldemort (need I say more?), and I doubt Slughorn took any special interest in him (because if he did, Slughorn would not have been able to shut up about the boy who corrected literally every single potion in the offical potion text book). Dumbledore and Snape on the other hand had this complicated relationship. They weren't always on the best of terms nor the best of friends, and there were secrets and manipulation from Dumbledore's side, yet they've also seen the best and worst of each other. Snape knew Dumbledore's plans and secrets more than anyone, Dumbledore knew Snape's pains and sorrows more than anyone else. To me, them being father and son is the only possible way to define it with all the complicated bagagge in that relationship.

And I love to imagine in the afterlife Severus and Dumbledore get to live life together without the war complicating everything between them, as the father and son the other never had. I can imagine they'd get along very well. They get along so well in canon too (you don't just have 'do you want me to kill you now or shall i compose an epitaph first' as your first response to someone telling you very seriously they need you to kill them, especially not to someone who's just your boss!) even with the baggage of Dumbledore's secrets and putting too much on Severus and the resentment Severus cannot heal from, so I can imagine that in the afterlife, where all this doesn't matter and they can just be.

And also Dumbledore will be the most embarrassing over-indulgent parent ever who'd call Severus his 'little boy' because 'even if you reach 90 you're still my baby'

[hannahssimblr]

I’m on my bed, fully clothed, and I cannot remember how I got here. I don’t know if I’m sitting up or lying down, or what is wall and what is ceiling. When I try to turn to my side, the room twists like a funhouse around me, the bed tilting like it's intent to slide me right off it. Am I alone? I think so.

That's my phone, the bright square of light. It lays on the sheets beside my face, and I grab it. Her name is right there. It's intuitive, too easy to find. 

It rings three, four times, and she picks up. “Jude?” She's sleepy. I woke her. 

“I’m sorry Michelle,” I slur, and I mean to be sorry for disturbing her, but she seems to assume that I’m apologising for much more than that.  

She sighs, “I know you are, and I’m sorry too.”

“You’re sorry?”

“Yeah. Are you drunk?”

“Uh huh.” I should likely be sorry for that too. 

“Where are you? Why are you drunk dialling me?” She doesn’t seem annoyed with me, concerned, hopeful, maybe, so I tell her the truth, “I miss you.”

I assume maybe I’ve passed out or somehow hallucinated this entire exchange because she's not responding, but then she sucks in a lungful of air and her voice trembles, “I miss you too, I wish you were here right now.”

“No, I was a bad boyfriend.”

“You weren’t.”

“I was the worst.”

“Not always.”

“...It's hard being on my own.”

“Yeah, for me too. Every single day has been horrible.”

I feel the kind of crushing, exaggerated sadness that I only ever do when I’ve had too much to drink, like I’m tumbling into a pit of despair so deep that the sun will never warm my face again. I can't think of a good reason why I have done this. “Sometimes I don’t want to go to Berlin,” I tell her hoarsely.

“Yeah,” she says, then hesitating like she wants to choose her words carefully, “You know that you don’t have to go, though.”

“I dunno.”

“You could stay in Dublin if you wanted to, It’s not too late. If the thought of leaving makes you too sad.”

That sounds deeply depressing, but being on my own is depressing too, and then I’m so frustrated that I fear I will start crying or something, “I can’t think.”

“You’re just drunk, but I think you’re saying this because it’s what you really mean.”

“Maybe.”

“I love you,” she says, and I hear her sitting up in bed, struck with urgency, “I haven't stopped feeling the same way about you, I still love you, and I want you to stay, if you're even considering it at all then that means-”

“Alright,” A group of guys pass by on the road outside, boisterously chanting some tuneless song and I’m conscious that I, or whoever brought me in here, never closed the curtains. I don't want other men to see me like this, and yet I'm unable to move.

“‘Alright’, as in, you’ll stay?” She says hopefully. 

“No, like, that I heard you.”

“I think we’re supposed to be together.” 

I wonder if she really believes that. Do I believe that? Maybe. “Mm. Maybe I’ll stay,” Sleep pulls at my eyes, which now rest unfocussed on a shimmery patch of sand outside the window. In the distance the waves roar against the shore, a lullaby. Sleep encroaches the corners of my vision and begins to suck me under. 

“Please,” she says, really crying now, “I don’t want to be on my own. I’ve been imagining you finding someone else and falling in love with them and it makes me feel sick.”

“I wouldn’t do that.”

A sniffle, “No?”

“No, I don’t ever think about other people, just you.”

“Really?”

“Yeah. Never ever ever. You're my girl.”

She sobs gently.

“Shell, I think I’m an idiot.”

“You’re not, you just made a selfish decision. You can still fix it and make it okay.”

My eyes are too heavy and the world is too weird and dizzy looking to keep them open, “Will you forgive me?” I manage with the last of my energy, but I’m too sleepy to listen to her answer. I pass out in three seconds, the phone warm in my palm, the speakers buzzing gently with the sound of her voice.

In the blinding light of the morning, though my head pounds and every colour and pattern is an assault on my senses, before doing another thing, I grab my phone from my pillow to see new messages from Michelle. I don't read any of them.

Hey.

I type.

I was really drunk. Disregard anything I said, I don't even remember what we talked about.

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