#i could use a little bit of love and so i am asking for a little bit of love

[fairy-writes]

Hi!! I saw that you write for Arcane and had a really cute idea for Vander. I don’t really see a lot of fics where you get to see Vander’s reactions to the reader either playing with the kids or comforting them, so I thought a fic centered around that might be cute? (I think also having a bit of slow burn would be sweet, like both Vander and the reader like each other but don’t do anything about it until getting a little push from the kids because they ship).

ONE LITTLE PUSH

Reblogs and Comments are greatly appreciated!!

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Fandom(s): Arcane: League of Legends

Pairing(s): Vander x Reader

Word Count: 1.9k

Genre(s)/Tag(s): Gender Neutral!Reader, Bit of a Slowburn, Fluff, Getting Together, Reader is Smaller than Vander (but who isn’t?), Sibling Bickering

Notes: VANDER MY FAVORITE

(No, but seriously, contrary to popular belief, he’s my 1st favorite over Viktor)

JUST IN TIME (kind of) FOR SEASON TWO, LETS GOOOOO

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Vander wasn’t quite sure why you stuck around for so long. 

In fact, he wasn’t sure why you stuck around in the first place. 

But… As Vander watches you with the kids. His kids. He begins to understand why. 

You were kind, unyieldingly so. Even as Mylo grew to start picking on Powder, even as they fought, you were kind and patient and offered them the unending gentle love they all so craved. 

The love he couldn’t afford to give them because who could be gentle in the Undercity? Especially in the depths of the Lanes?

You could. 

Vander was in the middle of pouring a drink when Powder tumbled into The Last Drop. She was covered in bruises and dust from something. Or someone. She barely met his gaze as she clambered to her feet and all but sprinted into the back where they all slept. Vander looked through the multitude of customers and spotted you. 

You had obviously seen Powder go bolting, worry twisting your face as you glanced toward the bar and met his stare. You arched an eyebrow, and he shrugged. You rolled your eyes and sighed before smiling in jest and getting up from where you had been tinkering with the jukebox. 

Vander finally manages to get away from his chatty clients and makes his way back into the back room nearly fifteen minutes later. 

Only to pause by the door. 

“—ylo hates me! He does, I swear!” Powder cries, and you hush her gently, dabbing what looks to be some of the antiseptic you have lying around on her cuts and bruises. Disinfectant was hard to come by, especially in the Lanes, but you were seemingly magic in the sense that you always knew who to talk to to get some. It seems you had worked your magic yet again. 

“Did Mylo say that he hates you?” You ask gently, whispering a quiet “sorry” under your breath as she flinched with the sting of the antiseptic. 

Powder pauses, thinking what had to be her earlier conversation over, 

“Well… No…” She mumbles, and you hum, 

“Can I give you my honest opinion?” You ask, and she stills, looking up at you with wide eyes before nodding. 

“Aren’t you always honest with us?” She asks. You chuckle at that. 

“I suppose I am. But I don’t think Mylo hates you. Does he find you a bit annoying? Maybe. But every big brother thinks that about their younger siblings. I know mine did.” You say, and Powder mulls your words over and over and over in her mind. 

She always did overthink things. 

“I didn't know you had a big brother.” She says eventually, and you let out a loud laugh at that. 

“You are a silly girl for focusing on that. But yes, I came from a big family. And guess what? I was the baby of the family. Just. Like. You.” You say, emphasizing your words with a pinch to her side. Powder squeals with laughter and wriggles away to escape your dastardly tickling. 

Vander hangs his head with a huff and a smile before turning to head back to the bar counter. He can hear your conversation continue as Powder escapes your grasp.

“Now, where did you get all these bruises from?”

“Um… Vi taught me parkour from Topside down…”

“Powder! You’re like seven!”

“Seven and a half! And she said I was ready!”

Ever since you began to stick around, you had become something of a parent figure to the four little children Vander had come into care for. 

To Vi and Powder especially. 

So when Mylo burst into The Last Drop with the words of a fistfight on his tongue, you were the first one out the door. 

Vander was close behind. 

Mylo led you and Vander deep into the Undercity. In fact, it was so far into the Undercity that Vander was worried they were getting into some dark territory. 

Like… Really dark territory. 

But soon enough, the sounds of a fight were heard, and soon after, you were deep in the throng of a multi-person fistfight. Everyone paused for a second when they saw you and then stopped altogether when they spotted Vander not far behind. 

You began to pull people off and shoved them out of the way. You did this again and again, ducking under a few stray punches until you managed to unearth Vi. 

She wasn’t looking too hot. 

Her face was bruised and swollen, and the fifteen-year-old spat out a wad of blood as she bared her bloody teeth and prepared to fight again. 

At least until she saw you. 

It was as if the tension had been released from her shoulders. 

She all but slumped into your grasp, and you stumbled back a step with the sudden weight. Vander yanked the last person away from you both and scooped up his adoptive daughter. She leaned her head into the crook of his neck and was obviously fighting back tears. 

Mylo was hunched over, hands on his knees, and wheezed from all the sprinting. 

“Vi? Violet, can you hear me?” You said as soon as you all returned to The Last Drop, and Vander set her down on the couch. Powder and Claggor had been found a block away, fighting off more thugs from whoever sent them after the literal children. 

He would've pummeled them to a pulp if Vander hadn’t hung up his gauntlets years before. 

Vi’s head lolled from side to side, and you shone a pocket flashlight into her eyes, watching as her pupils dilated and contracted. You were experienced at this, taking care of people, even more so than he thought. 

Were you a doctor deep in your past? 

As Vander thought about it, he realized he didn’t know practically anything about you. Your past, your likes, dislikes, he knew you were good with machines and medicine and that you came from a big family. But that was it. 

And that hurt his heart. 

You ended up ushering everyone out of the room while you worked on caring for Vi. Vander closed the bar early and was in the middle of putting chairs on tables when you emerged. Powder, Mylo, and Claggor dropped what they were doing. They scampered to your side, a chorus of “How’s Vi?” erupting from the kids. You offered them a tired smile and patted their heads. 

“She’ll be okay. She’s resting right now. You can go in and see her if you’re quiet.”

And then it was the two of you. 

Vander set the final chair on top of the table and meandered his way over where you were sitting at the bar, head in your hands. 

You looked tired. 

“Is she really okay?” He asked, and you grunted, rubbing at your temples. 

“She has a broken nose, fractured left arm, some bruised ribs, and a concussion. Which, all things considered, she’s very lucky. It could’ve been a lot worse.” You say, and he sighs, 

“Did she say why she got into the fight?” He replied, and you shrug, 

“She was protecting Powder. Then, more people started showing up until it was an all-out brawl. That’s when we stepped in.” You say, and his shoulders sag. 

Vi was going to be okay. 

“I don’t think I’ve ever said it. But thank you. For everything you’ve done. Taking care of them and all that.” He says, and you just hum. 

“You guys gave me a home after everything. I’m just repaying my debt. Well… that and I love those kids.” You say, and he arches an eyebrow,

“After everything?” He inquires, and you glance up sharply as if not realizing what you had said. 

Eventually, your gaze casts downward, and you run a hand over your head and through your hair. 

“I was a doctor in Piltover before the rebellion. I was caught trying to help the Undercity before they were officially citizens and cast out.” You say, and his arched eyebrow raises even higher. 

“A doctor? Were you any good?” You bark out a dry laugh at that,

“One of the best!” Your voice cracks as you speak, and he feels his heart splinter into pieces. 

Vander should’ve known that Claggor and Mylo were up to something when they came in with sneaky grins on their faces. 

The Last Drop was all but desolate. It was the wee hours of the morning before the people of the Undercity awoke to begin their day. But the door was unlocked, and the kids were allowed to run in and out as they pleased. 

Which they had been doing a lot in the last hour or so. 

“Vander!” Mylor clamored for his adopted father’s attention, waving an excited hand as he scampered up to the counter. Claggor hung behind, ever the stoic young man. But there was mischief in their eyes and curling the corners of their mouths. 

Vander slung the rag he used to wipe the counters down over his shoulder and leaned on the bar counter. 

“What did you do now?” He teased, and Mylo all but squawked. 

“When have I ever done anything?!” Vander just stared, 

“Do you really want me to answer that?” He asked, and Claggor snickered at Mylo’s deflated expression. Mylo quickly spun on a heel and jabbed a finger at his adopted brother, 

“Not a word outta you, Claggor!” He snapped before spinning back as something dawned on him.

“You gotta come with us!” He demanded, and Vander glanced between the two of them. 

“Why?” He asked, and Mylo let out an exaggerated groan.

“No questions! Just come on!” He grabbed Vander’s hand and tried tugging him around the counter and toward the front door. 

Vander relented, locking the door behind him as he followed the two boys. 

Only to realize very quickly what was actually going on. 

His first tip-off was hearing Powder and Vi’s voices, yours mixed in as you asked where you were going, why they were taking you, and what they were doing. 

Vi answered no questions. Powder just chirped excitedly. “You’ll see! You’ll see!”

The six of you met in the middle of the street, Powder dragging you by your hand as you followed behind patiently. You glanced up from listening to Powder, and your gazes met. Vander felt his heart skip a beat as he took in your appearance. There wasn’t anything particularly new, but you looked like you had cleaned up some. Your hair was pinned neatly back, and your clothes looked ironed. 

You looked… Really nice.

“Vander? What’s going on?” You asked, and Vi nudged you with her good arm. Her fractured left one was still healing carefully under your care. 

“We’re setting you two up.” She teased, and you stared dumbly. 

“Setting us up how?” You asked, and now it was Powder’s turn to blurt out an answer, 

“On a date!” 

Before the two of you could react, all four kids all but disappeared around the corner in a cloud of dust. Leaving you facing Vander and utterly alone. 

It was safe to say he was panicking just a little bit. 

“Vander? Do you have any idea what they meant?” You asked gently, and he scrubbed a hand down his face. 

“My guess is they want us to go on a date.” He said, fully prepared to hear rejection. Because who would want to go on a date with him? A middle-aged man with a stained past. His lungs twisted as he heard you take a step closer. 

A smaller hand slipped into his, and he looked down from where he had been staring at Topside. 

Your eyes were lit up, not with disgust at the proposition he was proposing. 

But they were filled with hope for the future this relationship would bring. 

[fayes-fics]

Bridgerton Blue

Pairing: Benedict Bridgerton x fem!reader

Summary: Benedict is stunned by his wife in Bridgerton blue.

Warnings: None, really. This is fluff and a teensy bit suggestive.

Word Count: 0.7k

Authors Note: Request fill for anon; see next post for details. I just had to use a GIF with him in a light blue cravat for the story. This is written from Benedict's POV. Sorry it's so short, but I hope you enjoy it! <3

The air catches in his lungs as he sees you. 

Sashaying into the bedroom from your dressing room, a vision in light blue. 

“How do I look, husband?” 

Your tone is affectionate, tinged with playful teasing but a hopeful earnestness that has a dense warmth spreading behind his ribs.

“Truly beautiful, my love,” he asserts as you swish the fabric back and forth, giving a little flourishing twirl as you draw nearer. 

He is captivated by the beauty of your look, yes, but more by you. Simply aglow. A beaming smile that seems to inhabit your whole being. He would do anything to keep you looking like that—as if the sun lives within you. Scarcely believing it is him you have chosen to spend your life with, to share the wonder of yourself with.

“And you are so very handsome,” you wink as you arrive in front of him, hands running up his sharply tailored jacket over the ruffles of his shirt. “This matches my dress perfectly,” you hum happily, him captivated by the way your eyes shine in the candlelight as your fingers toy with the tips of his cravat.

“It is by design’, he confesses. “I asked my tailor to work with your modiste,” he adds, enjoying the way your expression lights up even more at his forethought.

“You are the very best husband,” you attest ardently, and he can feel the sincerity behind your words as he cradles your face, your jaw moving delicately in his cupped palm.

Your hand encircles the back of his head and pulls him down gently but insistently. He happily obeys, smiling against your lips as you push up onto your tiptoes. Sharing a languid kiss that has a tingle running down his spine, your nails a mild scrape over his scalp.

“I wanted to wear Bridgerton blue,” you explain quietly, tilting to bury your face into his neck and inhaling heartily, the tip of your nose pressing under his ear where he dabbed his cologne, just for you, your very favourite scent. “To tell the world I could not be prouder to have your name, to be your wife.”

Your impassioned declaration stirs something profound in his soul—the magnitude of your mutual desire and love. The missing puzzle piece he had been searching for until that fateful day last year when the jumble that was his life suddenly found its shape, its order, its wholeness.

“I am the luckiest man in the world,” he murmurs into your cheek, your eyes fluttering closed as he peppers gossamer kisses over your skin.

His hands slide around you, pulling you closer, loving the slight hitch in your throat as your bodies mould to each other. 

“And I could not be prouder to be your husband,” he echoes your words, nuzzling your face until your lips ghost each other, breathing shared air. “I love you so very much.”

“I love you too,” you whisper over his cupid’s bow, arms banding tight around his neck as he lifts you from the ground. 

There is a bloom in his chest and a tug low in his gut as the kiss deepens, your tongue seeking his, a sensuous parry that always alights an intense flame within him. A burning want to be with you. Only you. Away from the world and all of its noise. To lose himself in the profundity of your connection when you are intimately entwined, hearts syncopated, bodies alive.

“Must we attend this ball, my love?” he pouts as you break apart, his tone turning mischievous, deploying that crooked smile that always has your pupils rapidly dilating. 

“I fear your mother will disown us if we do not attend her ball…” you chuckle reluctantly as he places you back onto your feet. But there is a distinct stirring in his britches as you crowd closer and offer coquettishly: “I will make it worth your while if you do, Mr Bridgerton…”

And just like that, he is putty in your hands. Cannot help but bring your knuckles to his lips to drop a lingering kiss onto the fabric there—a promissory note for what you will share later, his voice husky as he replies.

“Lead the way, Mrs Bridgerton.”

masterlist • wips • taglist (follow this blog to be tagged)

Benedict taglist pt 1: @makaylan @longingintheuniverse @iboopedyournose @colettebronte @aintnuthinbutahounddog @severewobblerlightdragon @writergirl-2001 @heeyyyou @enichole445 @enchantedbytomandhenry @ambitionspassionscoffee @chaoticcalzoneranchsports @nikaprincessofkattegat @baebee35 @crowleysqueenofhell @fiction-is-life @lilacbeesworld @broooookiecrisp @queen-of-the-misfit-toys @eleanor-bradstreet @divaanya @musicismyoxygen84 @miindfucked @sorryallonsy @cayt0123 @hottytoddyhistory @fictionalmenloversblog @zinzysstuff @malpalgalz @panhoeofmanyfandoms @kinokomoonshine @causeimissu @delehosies @m-rae23 @last-sheep @kmc1989 @ferns-fics @corpseoftrees-queen @magical-spit @bunnyweasley23 @how-many-stars-in-the-sky @hanji-emo-blog @sya-skies @urfavnoirette

[verstappenf1lecccc]

Now that you are gone

please note that once again this is a very important topic this is the last part of this series. if you are not familiar with this series please check the warnings.

Dearest husband or should I say ex husband now that I am gone or will be gone by the time that you would have found this letter. I couldn’t do it anymore lando I saw the way you and charlotte were being burdened by my presence and just knew I had to leave.

You were never a bad husband just simply disappeared from our marriage.

Each day I crumbled infront of you and yet you stayed oblivious, it’s been over 3 months since we last shared a bed and I know you are disgusted by the thought of being with me now that I’ve let myself go, all I wanted was love but I guess it was too much to ask for.

Please don’t try and save me now that you’ve read this, I’ve been gone for far too long for you to simply try now. I know we promised forever to each-other but sometimes maybe it’s for the best that it ends early. Be there for charlotte don’t leave her alone you are the only thing she has left I doubt that she would even notice I’m gone.

I know you hated being told what to do but please make sure charlotte never finds out how I left it’s the only thing I will ask from you. I still love you I promise I just don’t love myself enough to say. The voices are getting too hard to block out.

Goodbye Lando Norris

When lando came home from the club he didn’t expect to be treated to the shrill cries of his daughter, he knew you’d be there to take care of her and had called out your name to make sure you were with her so that he could go lay down the amount of drinks he had plus the cries of his daughter made him want to throw up due to the intense headache.

little did he know everything was simply going to get worse for him.

After yelling your name for several minutes with no response he knew he had to deal with charlotte, muttering under his breath about how deaf you were being. He stomped up the hallway into little charlottes room and based of the little girls cries it seemed like she knew that she had just lost her mother. Nothing lando could do was able to console the destraught little girl. It took him an hour to get her down.

An hour which could have been used to save you.

Lando was blissfully unaware of the heartache that was going to be unleashed into his heart. He searched the house trying to find you and give you a piece of his mind.

When you were nowhere to be found he had the bright idea to check the cameras, and that lead him to his discovery. A rather shocking one that he wouldn’t even wish on his worst enemy.

In the middle of the bathroom deep within the bathtub laid his wife, his one anchor in life through everything the women he called everything laid there in tranquility. The water still and unmoving your body laid there lips blue and cold to the touch yet to lando you still looked like the prettiest women in the world. His mind couldn’t comprehend what was happening it wasn’t until it finally hit that you were not moving, this wasn’t some sick prank or a nightmare that he could wake up from this was his reality his wife was dead lying there cold and dead. The women he called his angel now was an actual angel. He had lost her he lost his love and he knew it was all his fault. He felt shame creeping up his neck knowing he was trying to find you to yell at you. His head shaked with the intensity of the situation.

It was the day after your funeral when lando had found the letter you had left for him and charlotte.

It broke lando to a different level, in his wife’s handwriting his sins were written, he and killed her he had killed you and each day he would pay for his sins.

You were always there, no matter where lando went there was a bit of you everywhere.

He couldn’t get rid of you, not that he wanted to either

The only words he could have muttered at your funeral were “it should have been me, I did it it shoukd have been me she wasn’t supposed to go so soon”.

16 years later

Little Charlotte Norris was not so little anymore, she was now a grown 17 year old girl with questions about her mothers sudden death.

Her entire life she had been shielded from the gruesome reality of how her mother died.

Her father whom she adored more than anything in the world hid the truth from her. Her mother didn’t simply die of a heart attack at 24 she died due to depression, and when Charlotte Norris unfortunately found out the bitter truth due to Lando’s negligence her world shattered.

Her father’s irresponsible behaviour killed her mother.

Landos midnight saddens had resulted in him forgetting to hide away the letters you had left for him and charlotte another careless mistake on his part which would result in him losing his daughter as well.

Charlotte was in tears when Lando returned and he just knew she had found out about everything he could simply feel it.

He tried to justify his actions and decisions blaming it on him being too young and not knowing what PPD was, unfortunately for him his little angel would hear none of it.

She had left lando just like you had.

Charlotte now went by your last name still blaming her father for the years of hurt you went through and how she had to grow up without a maternal figure, she didn’t know why but she always missed you and your soft face.

Your daughter had started up a foundation to help new mothers and fathers with postpartum depression and the anxiety new mothers face. This was the best tribute she would have ever come up with.

tagged -:

@yunnifer

[boundbyeclipse]

hiii can you write smut number 5 with current James????

black velvet

genre : smut

word count : 1227

tags : current!james, female!reader, age difference (not specified how much), reader is a tattoo artist, a little rough james, semi-public sex (i think?), that’s about it

from the prompt list : 5. “don’t cover your mouth. i wanna hear you”

a/n : sooo i saw a photo of James getting a tattoo done and i thought hey, that’s a perfect idea for one of my requests! it really stuck to me and i had to write it. i really hope you enjoy this one x

‘Poison’ by Alice Cooper played in the background after you returned from your dinner break at work. You hummed along to the lyrics while lightly bopping your head to the beat. You absolutely loved rock and metal, so the playlist used at work always consisted of bands who did exactly those genres. It always gave you motivation and boosts for some energy, no matter if you were sad, angry or irritated.

While preparing for your next client, the sound of the entrance door opening and closing reached your ears. Technically, it was just a bit too early to show up, but hey, this one’s a regular and you didn’t mind at all.

“Hey there” you greeted him while putting some black gloves on your hands.

“Hey. Mind me showing up before I should?”

You gave him a warm smile, shaking your head left to right.

“Nope. You can come take a seat actually, I’ll go print out the tattoo and get more ink”

“Alright” James smiled back, hanging his jacket on the rack and making his way to the big, comfortable leather chair. He watched you walking around and you didn’t quite pay any attention to him, at least at first. Or, you just didn’t want to.

No matter how many times you’ve done tattoos on this man in the past few years, there has always been some sort of a tension between you both. It wasn’t anything like what you’ve had before with other men. They might have complimented you, made you smile, even blush, but none of them put you in such a vulnerable position with their presence alone. And there have been many times where his eyes would pierce right through you in the middle of getting his skin drawn on, creating the impression of him wanting to do some things to you. The lust was purely emitting from him the whole time. And you cannot forget about those moments when his fingertips would brush against your skin, making you shiver and think of scenarios in your head that were not so innocent. Sure, he was much older than you, but that didn’t stop either of you from craving each other every time.

Not too long after, you were already seated next to James, with his hand extended out as you were drawing lines on his skin.

My, oh my, did those large hands of his drove you insane.

“You got any more people coming after me?” he suddenly asked, his blue eyes hinting at something.

“Nope, you are the last one today. Puts my mind at ease knowing my last client is a regular. No need to overthink”

One side of his mouth curved up into a small smirk.

“Are you sure your mind is at ease? Because I can feel you’re all tensed up”

You swallowed and bit your lower lip hard after he said that. Trying to hide your growing frustration, you giggled.

“Maybe I am, I’ve been here since seven in the morning, you know”

He cocked an eyebrow up, not quite believing what you were saying. James could clearly see how you bit your lip, adjusted in your seat and giggled due to getting thrown back by his comment.

“It’s kind of easy to tell that it’s not because of the work. You don’t need to hide it”

Your breath hitched in your throat, and your body froze for a moment before you looked up at him and asked.

“What do you mean?”

“I know you secretly think about all the possible ways I could use my hands on you,” you could not believe what he just said, but it was totally true, “it’s written all over your face. Even your body language gives it away with how you shake, squirm in your seat, how you breathe heavier when I’m around. I know you think of me”

“James, don’t-“

“Just finish the tattoo first, then you can explain yourself”

Not even ten minutes later, you had your body pinned against the door of your break room, with no way to escape the tall man who hovered over you. His hands roamed your body while he kissed your neck, sucking on the sensitive spots to make you even weaker. The way he held you by your hip against the door made you so vulnerable and so turned on, that you could not help but moan into the heated kiss.

With one swift move, James opened the door behind you and the both of you walked backwards, still all over each other until the back of your calves hit the lounge couch that was in the room. James helped you with taking your shirt off, leaving you in a black lace bra. You sat down and watched James from below, eyes full of desperation and need, looking right into his own. He removed his shirt and tossed it away, unbuckling his jeans and unzipping them, then hovering above you as he laid you down slowly, but with rough kisses and a tight grip on your waist.

Your hand reached into his jeans and you cupped him through the fabric of his underwear, giving it a couple squeezes as James groaned in response. He was big, thick and hard, and you could feel yourself getting so wet that it started to hurt. You really needed him.

With no clothes left on your bodies, he was now inside you, moving his hips as he watched your face, loving the way your eyes rolled back with each thrust. The way your back arched, your naked bodies touching against each other, it put you in such a trance. Every second of it - you just loved.

With your moans becoming louder, you felt a little embarrassed, and your hand found its way to your mouth to silence yourself. But James wasn’t going to let you hide.

“Don’t cover your mouth. I wanna hear you”

Carefully, he took your hand and now had both of your hands pinned above your head. Your moans filled the room as you wrapped your legs around his waist, wanting to feel every single inch of his length in you. Almost to the point where you could barely take it.

“I can’t- I can’t take it”

“Yes, you can. Just hang on for a little bit more for me, okay?”

You gave him a nod in response, eyes watery and lips parted as you breathed heavily, your high hitting you right then and there. It happened so quickly, that you could not even tell James that you were close.

Another moan slipped out of his mouth as you coated him in your juices, your walls pulsing whilst he was still inside you, able to feel everything.

“Almost there” he told you as he gave you his final thrusts before pulling out and cumming on your stomach. Both of you were panting, with small beads of sweat on your foreheads and hair all messed up. But as soon as you got your breathing back to normal, it was time to clean up and go home. Though, James just wasn’t quite keen on leaving you so soon.

“I’ll give you a ride back home, so don’t worry about taking a bus in this weather” he gave you a warm smile as he put his jacket on and waited for you at the entrance door.

[satori-runa]

—SOLACE

Summary: Your life with your boyfriend goes into the next level.

Tags: Established Relationship, Female Reader, Fluff, Romance, Angst

Words: 8,9k

MDNI IT CONTAINS NSFW ELEMENTS

⊹₊ ˚‧︵‿₊୨୧₊‿︵‧ ˚ ₊⊹

“Guess who.” A familiar, teasing voice whispers close to your ear, sending a pleasant shiver down your spine. The words are followed by a warm body pressing into your back, enveloping you in an embrace. Gentle hands cover your eyes, playfully robbing you of your vision as you stand at the counter, finishing the last touches on dinner.

You can already smell the distinct, savory aroma of Sebastian’s favorite meal wafting through the kitchen—a hint of garlic, herbs, and roasted flavors blending into a comforting scent. The anticipation hangs in the air, the food waiting to be served, but now there’s something much more important occupying your attention.

“Hm, perhaps my wonderful boyfriend?” you hum back, leaning into the touch and making no attempt to pull away. There’s a soft giggle from behind you, the kind that melts away any lingering stress from the day. It’s a sound you’ve come to love, filled with genuine affection and a trace of mischief. His hands slide slowly from your eyes, drifting down to rest on your hips. You can feel the way his fingers trace small, lazy circles through the fabric of your clothes, a comforting and familiar touch that sends warmth spreading through your chest. He’s not in a rush, savoring the contact as he pulls you a little closer.

“Right on the first try, good job,” Sebastian murmurs against your ear, his voice low and playful. You can feel his breath ghosting over your skin, and the way he tilts his head, nuzzling into the crook of your neck. His hair brushes against your cheek as he lingers there, pressing a gentle kiss just below your ear.

You’d never expected to find yourself in a relationship like this, one that seemed ripped straight from the pages of a corny romance novel or, as you and Sebastian liked to joke, a scene from a Korean drama. It had all started so randomly, in a way that neither of you could have planned even if you tried.

It was a late summer evening, the kind where the air still clung with warmth from the day, and the sky painted itself in deep shades of purple and pink. You were making your way home after a night out with friends, the alcohol buzzing pleasantly in your veins. The streets were filled with the sounds of distant laughter and cars passing by, but all you could think about was how much your feet hurt and how desperately you needed an Uber to take you home. You fumbled with your phone, trying to order a ride while your vision swam a little from the drinks.

At the same time, nearby, Sebastian was also looking to get home. He’d spent the evening crammed into a quiet coffee shop, buried under textbooks and highlighters, his study session running longer than he’d planned. By the time he packed up and stepped outside, the sky was already dark, and he sighed, knowing the buses had stopped running. He pulled out his phone, searching for a ride back.

Unbeknownst to you both, fate—or maybe just the Uber app—decided to pull you together that night. The two of you ended up standing at the same corner, eyes glued to the little car icon on your screens as it approached. When you noticed him, you raised an eyebrow, confusion muddling your half-drunken state.

“Uh, are you waiting for this one too?” You asked, swaying slightly on your feet. The alcohol made everything a bit fuzzy, your usual filter dulled by the night’s drinks.

Sebastian looked at you, equally confused, but then a smile tugged at his lips. “Yeah, I am… seems like we ordered the same ride.”

You blinked, staring at him as if you were processing the situation in slow motion. Then, without much thought, you shrugged. “Well, there’s room for two. You wanna share?”

He chuckled softly, nodding. “Sure, why not? Looks like the universe wanted us to meet tonight.”

You slid into the backseat together, and as the car started moving, you leaned back, letting out a content sigh. The city lights blurred by outside the window, casting a soft glow on Sebastian’s face. He looked relaxed, his hair slightly messy from running his hand through it too many times while studying. You, on the other hand, felt talkative and loose-lipped from the drinks you’d had earlier. Before you knew it, you were rambling about anything and everything—your favorite movies, a funny story from the night out, even some existential musings on the universe that made him stifle a laugh.

“You’re really something.” He said, amused. His eyes sparkled with a kind of genuine interest that you weren’t used to seeing in strangers.

“I’m not something,” you replied, dramatic and slurring your words a bit. “I’m everything.” You pointed at him with a sloppy grin. “And so are you. We’re all stardust, you know?”

Sebastian gave a playful sigh, shaking his head. “Yeah, stardust… sure.” But there was something about the way you spoke, the unabashed honesty in your drunken state, that made an impression on him. You were a mess, but a charming mess, and it was enough to spark something in him.

When the car finally pulled up in front of his place, you were half-asleep, your head lolling to the side. He glanced at you, contemplating whether to wake you or let you rest. In the end, he gently nudged your shoulder. “Hey, this is where I get off. You alright?”

You blinked awake, rubbing your eyes like a sleepy child. “I’m fine,” you mumbled, even though you clearly weren’t. Before he could say anything more, you leaned closer, squinting at him. “You have really nice eyes, did you know that?”

He laughed softly, cheeks tinged with a hint of pink. “You’re definitely not going home like this.”

You didn’t remember much after that. The next thing you knew, you were waking up in an unfamiliar bed, the sunlight streaming in through pale curtains. Your head throbbed, the telltale sign of a hangover, and as you blinked the sleep from your eyes, you realized you were fully dressed, shoes neatly placed by the door. There was a folded note on the bedside table, written in neat, slanted handwriting.

Good morning! You looked too tired (and drunk) to make it home safely, so I brought you here. Don’t worry, you were a perfect angel. There’s water and aspirin on the nightstand. I’ll be back soon with breakfast—Sebastian.

You couldn’t help but smile at the sweetness of the note, even through the pounding in your head. It felt like a scene straight out of a drama—the handsome stranger, the shared ride, the note left behind. When Sebastian returned with a coffee and a bag of pastries, you were sitting up, still clutching the note.

“You’re awake,” he said, smiling as he stepped inside. “Feeling alright?”

You gave him a look, holding up the note like a piece of evidence. “Alright and not drunk, you're really a gentleman for leaving a note.“

He laughed, setting the coffee down in front of you. “What can I say? I aim to impress.”

From that morning on, it became a running joke between the two of you, how you met in such a cliché way. But as weeks turned into months, the jokes turned into real feelings. What started as a funny story to tell your friends became the foundation of something genuine. And now, here you were, dating Sebastian—the boy who shared an Uber with a tipsy, rambling stranger and decided to keep them around.

“Spacing out again?” Sebastian’s voice pulls you back into the present, his nose brushing against your ear as he nudges you gently. He’s still holding you close, his hands tracing idle patterns along your hips, almost as if he can’t bear to let you go just yet. You hadn’t realized how long you’d been standing there, lost in your thoughts and the warmth of his embrace.

“Hmm, maybe.” You reply, leaning back into him with a soft smile. “Just thinking about how lucky I am.”

He chuckles, the sound vibrating against your back, and you feel the way his chest rises and falls as he breathes. “Lucky, huh? I was about to say the same thing.”

He presses a kiss to your temple before finally releasing you, letting his hands slide away reluctantly. You turn to face him, catching the playful glint in his eyes as he takes in the sight of you, still standing by the stove with a dreamy look on your face.

“Dinner’s almost ready,” you say, gesturing toward the simmering pots on the stove. “But if you keep distracting me like that, we’re going to end up with burnt food.”

“Oh no, we can’t let that happen,” he teases, raising his hands in mock surrender. “After all, it’s my favorite. I’ve been thinking about this all day.”

You roll your eyes fondly and turn back to stir the pot, feeling Sebastian’s presence lingering close by. He watches you for a moment, then reaches around you to grab a spoon, sneaking a taste of the sauce simmering in front of you. He hums appreciatively, savoring the flavor.

“Mmm, perfect.” he says with a satisfied smile. “But it needs one more thing.”

Before you can ask what, he’s leaning in again, pressing a kiss to the side of your neck, soft and sweet. It’s barely a peck, but it sends a shiver down your spine nonetheless. You can’t help the giggle that escapes you as you swat at him playfully.

“Sebastian!” you scold lightly, trying to hide your smile. “You’re impossible.”

He grins, unrepentant. “Impossible? Or irresistibly charming?”

“A little of both,” you admit, shaking your head as you reach for the plates. “Alright, Mr. Charming, if you’re going to be here, at least help me set the table.”

Sebastian nods, slipping easily into a domestic rhythm that the two of you have fallen into over the past few months. He takes the plates from your hands, setting them down on the small table in the corner of the kitchen. It’s a cozy spot, just big enough for the two of you, illuminated by the warm light of the pendant lamp above. He lights a small candle in the center, the flame flickering softly, casting a golden glow that bathes the room in a romantic light.

You bring over the food, setting the dishes down as Sebastian pulls out a chair for you with a flourish, bowing dramatically. “Your seat, my dear.”

“Why, thank you, good sir,” you reply, playing along with a grin as you take your seat.

He settles down across from you, and for a moment, the two of you just look at each other, a soft silence settling between you. It’s the kind of silence that feels full, not empty—a shared moment where words aren’t necessary.

“You really outdid yourself,” Sebastian says after taking his first bite. His eyes light up with genuine delight, and it makes your heart swell with pride. “This is amazing.”

“I’m glad you like it,” you say, watching him enjoy the meal you prepared. You can’t help but feel a rush of affection for him in this moment—seeing him so relaxed, savoring the food with that boyish smile you love so much.

The two of you fall into an easy conversation, talking about your day and sharing little stories. At one point, Sebastian leans back in his chair, looking at you with an expression so soft it almost takes your breath away.

“I’ve been looking forward to this all week since there's barely time with work and studies,” he admits quietly, his voice tinged with a kind of vulnerability he doesn’t show often. “Just… having dinner with you, like this. It feels like home.”

You reach across the table, taking his hand in yours. His fingers curl around yours, warm and secure. “Me too,” you say, giving his hand a gentle squeeze. “It’s the best part of my day.”

For a while, you just hold hands, the candlelight flickering between you as you finish your meal. There’s a sense of contentment that wraps around you both like a blanket—cozy, intimate, and full of love.

After dinner, Sebastian insists on helping with the dishes, despite your protests. You end up standing side by side at the sink, elbows bumping playfully as you wash and dry. He steals kisses every chance he gets, brushing his lips against your cheek, your temple, the tip of your nose, making you laugh.

“You’re going to make me drop a plate,” you warn, though you’re smiling so much it’s hard to sound serious.

“Then I’ll catch it,” he promises, pressing a kiss to your temple.

By the time the kitchen is cleaned up, you’re both a little breathless from laughing, your cheeks warm from the shared closeness.

After the dishes are done, you’re both standing side by side, your hands still damp from the soapy water. The kitchen is quiet now, the only light coming from the small candle still flickering on the table, casting a warm, golden glow that dances across Sebastian’s face.

He turns toward you, reaching up to tuck a stray piece of hair behind your ear. His fingers linger there, brushing against your skin, and when you meet his gaze, there’s a different kind of warmth in his eyes—something deeper, a tenderness that makes your heart skip a beat.

“You’ve been amazing tonight.” He says softly, his voice barely above a whisper. “Thank you for this.”

You smile, leaning into his touch. “You don’t have to thank me, Sebastian. I loved doing this with you.”

There’s a beat of silence, where neither of you moves, just holding each other’s gaze. Then, in a single, smooth motion, he steps closer, his hands sliding to your waist. He pulls you against him, the sudden press of his body igniting a spark of heat between you. You can feel the way his fingers tighten on your hips, firm yet gentle, as if he’s anchoring himself to you.

You tilt your head up, your breath catching in your throat as he leans in, his nose brushing against yours. He’s so close now that you can feel the warmth of his breath fanning across your lips, and when he finally kisses you, it’s slow and deliberate, like he’s savoring the taste of you. It starts sweet, almost tentative, but quickly deepens as the hunger between you both grows.

Sebastian’s hands roam up your sides, tracing the curve of your waist before sliding under your shirt. His touch is warm against your skin, sending a shiver through you. He pulls back just enough to look at you, his pupils blown wide with a desire that mirrors your own. “Is this okay?” he asks, his voice husky, almost breathless.

You nod, your own hands slipping under the hem of his shirt, feeling the hard planes of his stomach. “More than okay.” you murmur, and that’s all the permission he needs.

He kisses you again, deeper this time, his tongue parting your lips as he presses you back against the counter. The edge digs into your hips, but you barely notice, too caught up in the feel of his mouth on yours, the way he’s holding you like you’re the only thing in the world. You gasp against his lips when he grips your thighs, lifting you up onto the counter with surprising ease.

“Sebastian.” You whisper, your voice breaking with a breathy moan as his lips trail down your jaw, nipping gently at the sensitive spot just below your ear. He hums in response, his hands squeezing your thighs as he settles between them, the hard press of his body making your heart race.

You thread your fingers through his hair, tugging lightly, and he groans, the sound vibrating against your skin. His kisses grow more heated, almost desperate, as if he can’t get enough of you. He pulls back just enough to look at you, his eyes dark and filled with lust. His forehead rests against yours, and you can feel his breath coming out in short, uneven puffs.

“You drive me crazy,” he admits, his voice rough and raw. His hands slide up your thighs, fingers dipping under your skirt, hooking on the waistband of your underwear. He pauses there, teasing, the pads of his fingers tracing small circles just beneath the fabric. He’s taking his time, savoring the anticipation and the shared intimacy of the moment.

“You say that like it’s a bad thing,” you manage to tease, though your voice is shaky with desire. You wrap your legs around his waist, pulling him closer, and he lets out a low chuckle, the sound sending a shiver down your spine.

“It’s definitely not a bad thing,” he murmurs, capturing your lips again in a kiss that leaves you breathless. He presses himself harder against you, grinding his hips into yours, and the friction sends a wave of heat coursing through your body. You could feel his growing errection between his legs, pressing between your legs and you had to hold back not to rush it. It’s overwhelming in the best way, the feeling of his firm body fitting perfectly against yours.

His other hand slips further under your shirt, fingertips brushing over your bare skin as he tried to unclip your bra under your clothes and he certainly enjoyed it way too much the way he teased you with his slow delicate movements. He then cups the side of your waist, his thumb grazing just beneath your ribs, tracing gentle patterns. When he looks at you, it’s with an intensity that takes your breath away.

“You’re beautiful,” he whispers, his voice filled with a raw, unfiltered honesty that makes your chest ache. He lowers his head, pressing hot, open-mouthed kisses along the line of your throat. His hands move with purpose now, sliding down to push your skirt up. He glances up at you, silently asking for permission, his expression almost reverent.

You nod, your breath hitching as he kneels in front of you. The sight of him on his knees, his hands gently spreading your legs appart, is enough to make your head spin. He takes his time, pressing soft kisses along your inner thighs, his eyes never leaving yours. There’s something worshipful in the way he looks at you, like he’s savoring every moment, every inch of your skin. Before you knew it, he took the piece of fabric of your lace panties between his teeth, pulling them down your legs, putting them in his own pockets.

“Sebastian…” Your voice is barely a whisper, your fingers tangling in his hair as he hooks your legs over his shoulders, pulling you closer to the edge of the counter. He grins up at you, a teasing, almost playful smile, before lowering his head.

The first touch of his lips against your most sensitive spot makes you gasp, your back arching involuntarily. He’s slow and deliberate, tasting you with gentle licks that have your entire body trembling. It’s a different kind of intimacy—one that’s both intense and tender, filled with an unspoken love that takes your breath away.

He takes his time, his tongue moving in slow, deliberate strokes, savoring the way your body responds to him. He holds your hips firmly, anchoring you in place as he explores every inch of you, finding the spots that make you shudder and moan his name. You can feel his hot breath against you, the soft hum of pleasure that escapes him as he loses himself in the moment.

Your fingers curl tighter in his hair, tugging him closer as you struggle to keep your voice steady. “Sebastian… please.”

He groans against you, the vibration sending sparks of pleasure shooting through your core. He pulls back slightly, just enough to look up at you, his lips glistening, eyes heavy with desire. “I love it when you say my name like that,” he murmurs, his voice low and thick with need. „Keep your eyes on me, darling.“

You’re panting now, your entire body trembling as he dives back in, his tongue moving faster, more insistently. The pleasure builds steadily, a wave of heat coiling low in your belly, making you feel like you’re on the edge of something wonderful. He watches your face as he works, taking in every gasp, every moan, as if it’s the most beautiful sound he’s ever heard.

You can’t hold back any longer. Your body tenses, your thighs clamping around his head as you reach your peak, crying out his name. He doesn’t stop, riding out your release, his tongue gentle now, coaxing you through the aftershocks.

When you finally come back down, your chest heaving, he presses one last soft kiss against your thigh before standing up. He looks at you with a boyish grin, wiping the corner of his mouth with the back of his hand.

“Was that okay?” he asks, though his smirk tells you he knows exactly how good it was.

You let out a breathless laugh, pulling him into a kiss that’s sweet and grateful, tasting yourself on his lips. “More than okay,” you murmur against his mouth. “You’re incredible.”

He wraps his arms around you, hugging you tightly, his nose nuzzling into your neck as he plants a soft kiss there. “I love you,” he whispers, the words like a quiet promise against your skin.

You smile, pressing a kiss to his temple, your fingers gently stroking through his hair. “I love you too.”

Without another word, he scoops you up effortlessly, his hands strong and sure as he lifts you off the counter. You let out a surprised laugh, clinging to him, your arms looping around his neck as he cradles you against his chest.

“Taking this somewhere more comfortable,” he murmurs, pressing a quick, teasing kiss to your forehead. The look in his eyes is smoldering, filled with an unspoken promise of what’s to come. He carries you through the dimly lit hallway, each step deliberate, the anticipation building between you both. Your heart races, beating in time with his, the air thick with the shared desire that crackles like electricity.

As you reach the bedroom, he nudges the door open with his foot, the soft light from the hallway spilling in and casting a golden glow over the bed. He sets you down gently, his hands lingering on your hips as he leans down to kiss you again. It’s slower this time, a lazy, lingering kiss that’s filled with a tenderness that makes your chest ache.

“You’re too good to me,” you whisper against his lips, your hands already slipping under the fabric of his shirt, feeling the warmth of his skin beneath your fingertips.

He chuckles, low and sweet, as he pulls back just enough to tug his shirt over his head. “I’m exactly as good as you deserve,” he replies, his voice husky. He tosses the shirt aside carelessly, and your eyes roam over his exposed chest, the play of light and shadow accentuating the muscles there. He looks at you like he’s drinking you in, savoring every detail, every expression on your face.

Your fingers find the button of his jeans, working it open as he watches you with a hooded gaze. He helps you, shrugging out of his pants and kicking them aside, leaving him in just his boxers. The sight of him—flushed, breathing heavily, and looking at you with a mixture of adoration and want—makes a wave of heat wash over you.

You lean back against the pillows, propping yourself up as he climbs onto the bed, his knees sinking into the mattress. He’s on you in an instant, his hands gently prying your shirt off, his lips trailing soft kisses down your collarbone as he peels the fabric away. When you’re bare before him, he pauses, taking a moment just to look at you. The way his eyes drink you in makes you feel cherished, like you’re the most precious thing in the world to him.

“Perfect,” he whispers, his voice thick with emotion. He leans down, pressing a kiss to your sternum, then another lower, right over your heart. You can feel the heat of his breath against your skin, the press of his lips sending shivers through your body.

His hands trail down your sides, fingers close between your legs. He raises his eyes to yours, silently asking for permission once again. When you give a small, eager nod, he pushes them in, toying with you, his gaze never leaving yours.

He presses closer, his bare chest flush against yours now, skin against skin. The warmth of him seeps into you, grounding you even as your heart feels like it might burst from the intensity of the moment. You can feel every hard line of his body, the way he fits so perfectly against you, like you were made for each other.

“Sebastian.” you whisper, his name falling from your lips like a prayer. You reach up, cupping his cheek in your hand, and he turns his head to press a kiss to your palm.

“I’ve got you.” He murmurs, his voice filled with love and a gentle promise. He dips his head down, capturing your lips in a kiss that’s slow and deep, his hand, pulled out of you, sliding down your side to grip your thigh, pulling you closer. His other hand roams up your body, fingers splaying out on your chest as he squeezed the skin.

You shiver as he shifts, settling between your legs, the press of his body sending a wave of warmth through you. He grinds against you slowly, the friction delicious, and you gasp into his mouth, your nails digging into his back. He groans, a deep, guttural sound that reverberates through his chest, and you can feel the restrained need in the way he moves.

“Tell me what you want,” he breathes against your lips, his forehead resting against yours as he gazes down at you with an intensity that makes your breath hitch.

“You,” you reply, your voice barely a whisper. “I want you.”

He kisses you again, hard and fervent, his hips pressing into yours in a slow, rolling motion that has you arching up against him, seeking more. You can feel his smile against your lips, a soft, tender curve that’s full of love.

“I’m all yours,” he whispers back, his words like a promise. “Tonight and always.”

He moves slowly, unhurried, taking his time to explore every inch of your body with his lips and hands, like he’s memorizing every curve, every shiver. The room is filled with the sound of your shared breaths, the soft sighs and gasps as he touches you, holds you, loves you.

„Promise I always will.“ Those where his last words before you were able to feel him close to your entrance, his tip stroking you gently before he pushed in.

The next morning came in silence, but it wasn’t the kind you loved. It wasn’t the quiet murmur of the world still asleep, or the gentle hum of life waking up slowly. It was the kind of silence that felt heavy, almost suffocating. The kind that made you realize something was missing before you even opened your eyes.

You shifted, reaching out instinctively to the other side of the bed, expecting the familiar warmth of Sebastian’s body curled up against yours. Instead, your fingers met cold, empty sheets. Your heart sank a little, the small knot of disappointment tightening in your chest.

It wasn’t supposed to be like this. Mornings were your favorite time together, the one part of the day where you could both be unguarded, lazy, and wrapped up in each other without any of life’s distractions pulling you apart. You loved waking up to the smell of freshly brewed coffee, the sound of the kettle whistling in the kitchen as Sebastian made you breakfast, or the soft kiss he’d press to your forehead before you were even fully awake. It was the sweetest part of your life—those quiet, precious moments that belonged only to the two of you.

But today, there was none of that. Just an empty bed and a lingering chill where his warmth should have been. You opened your eyes, blinking at the soft light filtering through the curtains, half expecting to see him standing there, smiling at you like he always did. But the room was empty.

You sat up slowly, the sheets pooling around your waist, and glanced around as if he might suddenly appear. The pillow next to you was still dented from where he’d slept, but it was cool to the touch now, the scent of him fading away. You pressed your face into it anyway, closing your eyes and inhaling deeply, trying to hold on to that small piece of him for a moment longer.

„Sebastian?“ You called out, hoping for any kind of reaction, your voice filling the room.

It didn’t make sense. He hadn’t mentioned leaving early. He hadn’t said anything about having plans today. Your mind raced with possibilities, each one leaving a hollow ache in its wake. Maybe he’d just stepped out for a bit, you told yourself. He’d be back any minute, you were sure of it.

But as you swung your legs over the side of the bed, the cold floor beneath your feet seemed to echo the emptiness inside you. You wrapped the blanket tighter around your shoulders, trying to chase away the chill. It wasn’t just the cold of the room—it was the cold that came from waking up alone when you’d gotten so used to waking up together. This felt oddly strange.

You couldn’t help but remember the way it usually was. How he’d pull you closer, mumbling half-asleep compliments against your neck. How his fingers would trace lazy patterns on your skin, making you feel like you were the only person in the world. How you’d both lie there for as long as you could, wrapped up in the warmth of each other, talking softly or just sharing comfortable silence.

You glanced at the clock on the nightstand, hoping you were wrong. Hoping maybe you’d just woken up before him, and he’d be back any second, slipping into bed beside you with a sheepish smile and a kiss on your cheek. But the clock told a different story. It was already late—later than he’d ever leave without saying something.

You took a deep breath, forcing yourself to stand up, your legs feeling shaky beneath you. The house felt colder without him here, and the empty quiet of it pressed in on you. You padded out into the hallway, calling his name softly once more, half expecting him to pop his head out from the kitchen, teasing you for being so worried.

But there was no answer. No kettle boiling, no clink of mugs, no smell of coffee in the air. Just the empty echo of your voice.

You leaned against the doorframe, closing your eyes and letting the silence wash over you. The ache in your chest felt heavier now, settling like a stone. It was a small thing, really—waking up alone just once—but it felt like a shadow of something bigger. A reminder of how much you needed him, of how much his presence had become a part of your mornings, your days, your everything.

You pulled the blanket tighter around yourself, rubbing your hands over your arms in a vain attempt to warm up. He’d be back soon, you told yourself again. He had to be. He wouldn’t just leave like this, not without a word. He wouldn’t take away the part of the morning you loved the most—the part where you woke up next to him and felt like everything was right in the world.

But as you stood there, staring at the empty hallway, you couldn’t help the small, creeping worry that maybe today was different. Maybe today was the start of a morning you’d have to face alone, a morning without him to hold you and make you feel whole.

And that thought made the quiet feel so much colder.

The quiet stretched longer than it should have, and with each passing second, the doubt in your mind grew. You couldn’t shake the feeling that something was wrong, but you tried to brush it off. You told yourself it was nothing—Sebastian had probably just gone out to grab breakfast or coffee. It was a Saturday, after all, and the world outside was just starting to wake up. But as you moved through the house, something felt off.

You made your way to the entryway, half-expecting to see him standing there, pulling on his shoes or grabbing his coat. But the spot where his jacket usually hung was empty. The shoes he always left by the door were gone too. You frowned, the empty space making your stomach twist in a way you couldn’t quite explain. Maybe he had left early, maybe to pick up something for breakfast, or maybe to run an errand.

You convinced yourself that’s what had happened. He’d just stepped out. He’d be back soon. You had to believe that. You turned away from the door and walked back through the house, glancing around for any sign of him. The stillness pressed against you like a heavy blanket, and despite your best efforts to remain calm, you couldn’t shake the unease gnawing at you.

As you entered the living room, you caught sight of the bookshelf against the wall. Your eyes narrowed, and your heart began to race. The shelf was slightly askew, the way it was when Sebastian had been messing around with it. But it wasn’t just the shelf that caught your attention—it was the hidden compartment behind it. Your safe. It was slightly open.

You had always hidden it carefully, knowing it was the one place where you kept the money that had become so important to Sebastian and you over the past few months. But now, standing there, you felt a cold shiver race down your spine. You walked over to it, and as you opened the compartment fully, your stomach dropped. The safe was empty. Your heart skipped a beat, and panic surged through you. The money—everything you had been so careful to keep safe—was gone. The only explanation you could think of was that Sebastian had taken it. He had taken everything. Your mind screamed at you, but your body felt frozen, unable to move.

Your breath quickened, and the room around you began to spin. A knot twisted in your chest, suffocating you, and your mind started to race with the worst possible thoughts. Had he really done this? Had he taken everything and left me? Your hands shook as you backed away from the shelf, your mind still desperately trying to make sense of what was happening. You had trusted him, believed in him, and now all you could think of was how everything had felt too perfect—like it had all been a lie. Any kind of trust was lost as you couldn't come up with a single good reason why he should take the money and disappear.

You moved quickly, heart pounding in your chest, darting around the house as if searching for something, anything that would prove you were wrong. You tore through the living room, the kitchen, even the bathroom. But there was nothing—no sign of him, no explanation for what had happened. The silence pressed down harder, and the walls around you seemed to close in, suffocating you with the weight of your thoughts.

Suddenly, the house felt too big, too empty. Every sound, every small creak, seemed amplified in the stillness. You felt like you were drowning in your own panic. Your chest tightened, and your breathing became shallow, erratic. Your vision blurred as the tears began to well up in your eyes. It was all happening too fast, too overwhelming.

You collapsed to your knees on the floor, hands gripping your hair as your mind spiraled. No, he wouldn’t. He couldn’t. The thought that Sebastian had taken the money, that he had left you with nothing but confusion and betrayal, shattered something inside you. Everything you had shared—the late-night talks, the laughter, the mornings together—it all felt like a cruel joke now.

"Sebastian!" you screamed, the word ripping from your throat, raw and desperate. "Where are you?"

But there was no answer. Just the emptiness, the silence stretching longer and longer, pulling you further into a dark pit of fear and confusion. You curled in on yourself, hands over your face, tears streaming freely as the weight of it all pressed down on you. How could you have been so wrong? How could you have let yourself trust him so completely, only for him to take everything away in one cruel moment?

The house felt like a prison. Every corner, every empty space reminded you of what you had lost, what had been stolen from you. And as the panic surged, all you could think was that he had left, and you were alone, with nothing but the aching hollow in your chest to show for it.

You cried, helplessly, uncontrollably, the sobs shaking your entire body. Nothing made sense. Nothing could bring you the comfort you craved. And all you could do was scream, hoping for some kind of answer that would never come.

Sebastian woke up first, the quiet morning light filtering through the curtains, casting soft shadows across the room. His gaze immediately landed on you—peacefully asleep beside him. The sight of you, tangled in the sheets with your hair messy from the night, made his heart skip a beat. There was something about you, something that made everything else in the world fade away when he was with you.

He could still feel the warmth of your body against his, the weight of your presence next to him, and the quiet intimacy that seemed to wrap around both of you. The night had been perfect, full of laughter and closeness, but in that moment, as he watched you sleep, something more profound settled in him.

He realized, with a clarity that shocked him, that he didn’t just want this—this closeness, this joy, this love—he wanted all of it. Forever. It was like a light bulb turning on in his head, and it was undeniable. He wanted to spend his life with you. The idea of waking up to this—waking up to *you*—for every day to come filled him with a warmth that he couldn’t ignore.

Sebastian’s chest tightened with a mix of excitement and nerves, the weight of the realization both exhilarating and humbling. He knew, deep down, that this wasn’t just a fleeting thought or a momentary rush of emotion. It was real. He wanted to build a life with you. He wanted to promise you forever, no matter what.

Carefully, he slipped out of bed, trying not to disturb you. The sheets rustled gently as he moved, and he paused, watching you for a moment longer, a soft smile tugging at his lips. He admired how peaceful you looked, how safe and content, lost in dreams. He didn’t want to wake you yet. This moment, this quiet, was just for him.

Sebastian stood, stretching his limbs and glancing around the room. His heart still pounded with the weight of what he was about to do. He knew he had to do it. He had to show you that he wasn’t just saying the words when he said he loved you. He was going to prove it.

Moving quietly to the dresser, he pulled on his clothes, careful not to make any noise. His hands trembled slightly, the excitement of the decision making his heart race. He knew what he had to do, and nothing was going to stop him.

His eyes flicked toward the shelf where you kept your safe, his heart skipping. He had always known about it—he respected it, and he knew it was important to you. But today, today was different. He didn’t hesitate for a second as he opened the shelf, taking out the safe. The contents of the small box—money that had been saved for a future you’d both been dreaming of—meant something far more than just savings now. It was a way for him to take the first step toward that future. The life he wanted to build with you.

Sebastian swallowed hard as he pulled the money out, placing it carefully in his pocket. His chest tightened, but it wasn’t from nerves about what he was doing—it was from the overwhelming realization that he was making the choice to move forward, to ask for forever. He knew he was going to spend the rest of his life with you, and that thought was everything.

He turned, quietly making his way out of the room and into the hallway. The city outside was just beginning to wake up, the soft hum of the early morning a comforting backdrop to his racing thoughts. His mind was focused on one thing now: making sure the ring was perfect, making sure it was everything you deserved. He’d save the money for the rest of your life together later.

But today, today was the start of everything.

Sebastian made his way to the jewelry store, each step feeling more like a confirmation of what he had known all along. He was doing the right thing, and no matter how many details needed to be perfect, all that mattered was the love he felt for you. He had to make sure that the ring was just as unforgettable as the way you made him feel every single day.

As he stepped into the shop, his eyes immediately scanned the selection, his mind fixed solely on one goal. He didn’t need to search for long. The moment his eyes landed on a beautiful, delicate ring, a diamond set against a simple gold band, he knew it was the one. He imagined the way it would look on your finger, how it would symbolize everything he wanted to say but didn’t always have the words for.

With a deep breath, he picked it up, his fingers brushing against the smooth surface of the box. He paid, his hands shaking slightly with anticipation, excitement thrumming through his veins.

All he had to do now was get home to you. To show you how much you meant to him, how much he wanted to spend the rest of his life with you.

The entire time he was gone, his mind was consumed with thoughts of you. He knew when he returned, it wouldn’t just be another ordinary morning. It would be the start of a new chapter. A chapter that began with love, and ended with forever.

But he never returned.

The metallic scent of the Hadal Blacksite hung thick in the air, its sterile walls casting a cold, lifeless atmosphere around you. The labyrinth of vents you crawled through felt like a maze, twisting and turning with no end in sight. Your knees scraped against the jagged metal, but you didn’t stop. You couldn’t stop. Every inch of your body screamed in exhaustion, but your mission kept you moving. The crystal—the one thing you needed to find—was somewhere within this forsaken facility. But you had to survive long enough to retrieve it.

The deeper you went, the darker it became. The vents barely let any light in, and the only sound you could hear was the echo of your own breathing, shallow and frantic. You couldn’t afford to think about how you got here, how everything had spiraled out of control, or the faces you had once known. All you could focus on was the present, the objective. The crystal.

Your life had been shattered after Sebastian’s betrayal. You had fallen so far, so fast, that it felt like the very ground beneath you had disappeared. Now, here you were, crawling through the grim, unforgiving halls of the Blacksite—nothing more than a shadow, a criminal. Desperate. The crushing weight of debt and hunger had driven you beyond what you once thought possible.

Money had been the catalyst for your descent into this hellish place. The lack of it, the constant struggle to survive, had broken you down piece by piece until you were willing to do anything—anything—to escape the suffocating grasp of poverty. Your morals, your dignity, everything you once held dear, faded into the background as you scraped together whatever scraps of hope you could find.

And then you crossed the line.

It was never supposed to come to this. You had promised yourself you wouldn’t risk it all, but desperation had a way of warping your sense of reason. You had stepped into the Blacksite’s underbelly, risking your life, hoping the payoff would be enough to turn everything around. But all you had now were regrets, each one more suffocating than the last.

You had never imagined it would end like this.

It was hard to tell how much time had passed when you finally reached an access hatch, a simple vent. You didn’t hesitate, swinging it open and slipping through into the dimly lit room. Your eyes scanned the space, still disoriented from the crawl, but something stopped you dead in your tracks.

It was a shop.

A small, oddly shop tucked away in the heart of the Blacksite. The walls were lined with shelves—an assortment of strange, vintage devices, dusty trinkets, and knick-knacks. In the corner, a glass display case held a collection of unmarked items, their importance completely unknown to you. It was surreal, this oasis in the middle of a place so cold and hostile.

But what made your breath catch in your throat wasn’t the strange setting or the items on the shelves.

You froze, heart pounding in your chest as your eyes locked onto him. Sebastian. But he wasn’t the man you had once known—he wasn’t even close. His appearance was twisted, distorted, as though the years had been unkind, carving deep lines of pain into his face. His eyes, once warm and familiar, now held a cold emptiness, an unrecognizable void inbetween the fluorescent glow. His skin was pale gray, unnatural, like something out of a nightmare, and his presence felt wrong, as though he had been reshaped by something dark and uncontrollable. The shock hit you like a physical blow, your stomach churning as you tried to pull back, your legs shaking with the instinct to flee. You didn't even dared to comment the rest of his body. This wasn’t the man you loved: this wasn’t even someone you could recognize. A wave of disgust washed over you, mingling with the terror that gripped your throat. You couldn’t even process it—your mind couldn't make sense of the grotesque transformation. All you could do was stumble backward, every inch of your body telling you to get away, to escape this horrible, unrecognizable figure before you.

You took a slow, cautious step backward, your breath shallow and erratic. Every movement felt like an eternity as you tried to distance yourself from the nightmare standing in front of you. You couldn’t take your eyes off him, the twisted version of Sebastian, but at the same time, you couldn’t look at him. The terror in your chest made your limbs heavy, your mind clouded with panic, and your heart ached in a way that made it hard to breathe.

You moved quietly, silently, as though retreating would give you the space to think, to make sense of this madness. Your feet stumbled awkwardly, barely making any sound against the cold floor—until they didn’t. Your foot caught on something—an object, a piece of debris that you hadn’t noticed before—and in a split second, your body was crashing to the ground.

The impact sent a sharp pain through your limbs, and before you could even react, you froze, utterly paralyzed by the noise. The sound of your fall echoed through the room, and in an instant, you felt his presence shift. His breathing grew louder, and then he turned.

For a moment, everything stopped. You couldn’t move. You couldn’t breathe. Every muscle in your body locked up as you lay there, immobilized by fear.

And then he saw you.

His eyes, once hollow, suddenly flickered with recognition. His face—so alien just moments before—shifted into something you could hardly process. A look of utter shock and joy crossed his features, his mouth parting in disbelief, displaying his sharp teeth. He moved toward you cautiously, his voice hoarse but filled with an overwhelming sense of relief.

“Y-You...?” His voice trembled, almost in awe. His eyes darted over your face, his expression softening as the pieces of recognition fell into place. “No way… is it really you?”

A rush of emotion flooded through him—something you hadn’t seen in a long time, something raw and vulnerable. His face broke into an unrestrained, radiant smile, and for the first time, you saw the man you once knew beneath all the horror. It was a moment of pure, unfiltered joy that made your stomach twist in confusion and disbelief.

You could barely move, still too stunned to comprehend the sight before you, but his reaction was enough to make your chest tighten, a jolt of emotion hitting you like a wave, not in a good way.

He was happy to see you. And somehow, in this strange, twisted reality, that felt even more terrifying.

Sebastian moved closer, his hands trembling slightly as he reached for the pocket of his coat, pulling something out with an eager grin. The object glinted in his hand, and for a moment, the sight of the small box made your heart skip with fear. But you couldn’t process it, couldn’t make sense of the words he was about to speak.

“I—I can’t believe this… I’ve missed you so much,” he rambled, his voice a mix of relief and confusion. His gaze never left you, his eyes soft but filled with an almost frantic urgency, as though he couldn’t believe you were really here. “I thought I’d never see you again, after everything—after how much I messed up. I don’t know how you ended up down here, I don’t understand, but… I don’t care.”

His words poured out, faster than he could catch them, like he had been waiting for this moment, this reunion, for so long. He seemed out of breath, his chest heaving slightly as he spoke, the joy barely contained in his voice. His behaviour felt so off on so many different levels, not lovingly like you knew him back then, but obsessive in the worst way.

“I’ve been waiting for this… for you,” he continued, a wild light in his eyes. “I told myself I’d come back to you, no matter what. No matter what happened or what I had to go through… you were always on my mind. I never stopped thinking about you. I—" His voice caught, almost as if the words were too much to handle.

He paused for a moment, his face suddenly serious, as if weighing something. Then, with a flourish, he opened the small box in his hand, revealing the engagement ring nestled inside, covered in some dry blood and dirt. His smile stretched wide, a mix of pride and happiness in his eyes. “I was going to ask you... I wanted to ask you... I’ve been saving for so long. I—” He glanced at you, his expression filled with an almost childlike excitement. “I wanted to give you this. I wanted to promise you everything. I know things were messed up, but you *are* everything to me. And I—I need you to know that.”

But you couldn’t hear his words anymore. They were distant, muffled, as if the world around you was closing in. Your chest felt hollow, and despite the tears that had begun to fall silently down your face, your body felt numb. The shock of seeing him again, the confusion, the betrayal—it was too much to handle. You didn’t know whether to scream or to run, but your body refused to move.

His words—so full of joy, so hopeful—made everything worse. The engagement ring, the smiles, the words of love—they all felt like knives in your chest. Your throat tightened, and the tears came harder, spilling down your cheeks in a silent torrent as you stared at him, completely incapable of responding.

He kept talking, his words becoming a blur. He didn’t seem to notice, or maybe he didn’t care, that you weren’t saying anything back, that you weren’t moving. His smile remained wide and genuine, as if he was living some dream he had longed for. But for you? It was a nightmare that you couldn’t escape, not even if you tried.

You were deadly terrified of him.

You don't know who was standing in front of you anymore.

„GET AWAY FROM ME!“

[wordingg]

Smells Like Teen Hormones

Summary: Charles just transferred to St. Hilarion's and sees the most beautiful boy across the lawn. Edwin Payne is the prima ballerino of St. Hilarion's dance program and a well known ice queen. But, it's not like something like that could stop Charles Rowland.

AN: I wrote this for deadboyween's free day, but got kind of stuck halfway through. This really deserves to be a lot longer and slower, but I just wanted to hit the scenes I thought was fun. I hope you enjoy it!

The first time Charles Rowland saw Edwin Payne, he almost tripped and fell on his face.

Charles had been aware when he got the sports scholarship to St. Hilarion’s that what it was well known for was its dance program. That had smarted a little bit, because Charles knew that if his skin wasn’t so dark and the type of dance that he practiced was something classy like ballet, he could have gotten a scholarship for his dancing. Instead, he got a scholarship for cricket, which wasn’t that bad as Charles sincerely liked cricket. But, it wasn’t dancing.

What Charles hadn’t realized when he transferred to St. Hilarion’s was that a dance program would have boys as well as girls. And not just fit b-boys like the boys who had been in his crew with him. No, beautiful posh boys with legs for days and porcelain skin who moved like water when they walked across the quad.

Charles stumbled and almost knocked over his new mate from the cricket team, Mark, who gave him a dirty look and shoved him back.

“Who the hell is that?” Charles breathed, not taking his eyes off the boy swanning across the grass in the center of a gaggle of small delicate girls.

Mark frowned in the direction that Charles was looking. “Who?” he asked, confused.

“That boy! The tall ballerina one!” Charles exclaimed, rudely pointing.

The boy turned and noticed Charles pointing at him and gave him such an offended look that Charles almost shriveled up like a prune.

Mark scoffed. “That’s Edwin Payne. The dance department falls all over themselves for him, but don’t bother trying to make friends. He’s a tosser, apparently.”

But, Charles wasn’t listening. The name Edwin Payne was ringing like a bell in his ears.

---

The next day, Charles went to find Crystal somewhere in the bowels of the art department. She was the only person he felt he could rely on to understand what he was going through. She was beautiful, and mean as shit, and probably his best friend in the world. Which was saying something because he had known her for about two weeks.

“Crystal, you have friends in the dance department, right?” Charles had asked, trying to find somewhere to lean that didn’t have paint all over it. If he ruined another uniform, he was pretty sure his dad would literally kill him.

“Yes, I am friends with the Japanese exchange student in our grade who is also in the dance department. Her name is Niko, Charles,” Crystal said in a long suffering tone as she tried blending in the blues on an oil painting it seemed like she had been working on for a week.

Charles winced. Based on her tone, she had probably told him a few times before, but he had forgotten. In his defense, he was neck deep in love.

“Right, the cute girl with the white hair. And, she’s in the dance department,” Charles forged on.

Sighing, Crystal gave up on her painting and turned to Charles. “Okay. What do you want?” she asked flatly.

“I think the most beautiful boy I’ve ever seen in my whole life has class with her and will you pleeeeeeease introduce us?” Charles rushed out breathlessly.

Crystal stared at Charles. Charles tried to give her his best puppy dog eyes, the ones that made all the old ladies in his neighborhood coo and ruffle his hair.

“And you can’t just walk up to him and introduce yourself why?” Crystal asked incredulously.

“Because I think I would probably die on the spot,” Charles said seriously.

Crystal let her head tip back and let out an explosive sigh. “Fine!” she groaned.

Charles jumped up and punched the air.

“But, you owe me so many chocolate milks!” Crystal said, a threatening finger pointed at Charles. “I have no idea how you hustle the cafeteria ladies out of them, but I want in!”

“It’s my natural charm,” Charles said with a grin and then dodged the wet paintbrush that Crystal threw at him.

---

What Crystal set up was a study group with all four of them: Charles, Crystal, Edwin and Niko Sasaki, the Japanese transfer student.

“It’s basically impossible to fuck this up,” Crystal had told him firmly while Charles tried not to hyperventilate in the library bathroom ten minutes before their meet up time. “Just ask him to help you with your algebra with those big wet doe eyes and he’ll be done for.”

“But, what if I ask him for help with my algebra homework and he sees how hopeless I am and he’s disgusted?” Charles asked, pulling at his hair. Transferring from a public school to a private school had a lot of difficulties, but the sudden change in curriculum was by far becoming the biggest one for Charles. He didn’t think he was stupid, but he definitely was way behind all the other students who had been at St. Hilarion’s for years.

Crystal knocked his hands away from his head and grabbed his face in her terrifying claws, squishing his cheeks. She shook him a little and Charles flailed.

“Edwin Payne is the gayest gay boy that I have ever met in my life,” she said vehemently. “And you, Charles Rowland, are the most golden retriever shaped motherfucker in existence. If he doesn’t fall in love with you immediately, I’ll eat my fucking shoe.”

“Thanks, Crystal. You’re a real friend,” Charles said wetly.

“You’re damn right I am,” she said.

Then, the bathroom door opened and a boy yelped, “Hey, what! You’re not supposed to be in the boy’s-”

Crystal kicked the door shut with her big terrifying combat boots, nailing the boy in the nose. “Fuck off, terf!” she screamed.

Charles thought he loved her a little bit.

---

If Charles thought that Edwin was beautiful from across a crowded lawn, he was an idiot, because he was even prettier up close.

He was about as tall as Charles, but he was so lanky. He had these long arms and long legs, but all his limbs were under careful precise control at all times. His hands were pretty, pale with long manicured fingers, always carefully folded or deftly handling a pencil. His face was all long lines and flat planes, like someone had crafted him out of marble or something. Except his big dark eyebrows and thick dark lashes made him look incredibly alive, every small expression made louder by the twitch of his eyebrows.

Charles felt like an idiot the second he stepped into the room with him. His hands were immediately clammy with sweat and rubbing them on his trousers didn’t seem to resolve the issue. He kept stumbling over words and talking either too loudly or too softly. He lost count of how many times he dropped his pencil on the floor or knocked the table askew with his jittering knees. He felt like an oaf.

Crystal was looking at him like he disgusted her on a personal level. Charles didn’t know Niko very well, but the intense way her big sparkly eyes focused on him gave him the impression that she was enjoying whatever incredible meltdown he was experiencing.

For his part, Edwin seemed very confused by him. Charles couldn’t blame him. He knew he was acting like a bumbling idiot, primarily in Edwin’s direction. At one point, Edwin had asked him a direction question and it had startled Charles so much he literally threw his pencil across the room. If he hadn’t wanted to sink into the floor so much at that moment, he was pretty sure based on the acidic look that Crystal shot him she would put him there herself.

When the girls took a brief break to visit the bathroom and get them all some coffee, Edwin turned to Charles with a somber look. Charles gulped audibly.

“I’m sorry if I’ve made you feel uncomfortable-” he started to say.

“Not at all!” Charles hurried to say.

“I know I can be somewhat unapproachable to people my own age,” Edwin continued.

“You’ve been aces, mate, really!” Charles insisted.

“I think it’s quite admirable that you are making an effort to improve your academics. If I made you feel any other way, I sincerely apologize,” Edwin said to his lap, looking a bit miserable.

Charles had no idea what Edwin was talking about. If he had insulted Charles accidentally during their study session, Charles had probably been too busy trying not to spontaneously combust to notice. All Charles knew was that he wanted to clear away this misunderstanding as soon as possible.

“It’s not that at all!” Charles said firmly, pressing his hand over both of Edwin’s, where they were folded primly in his lap. “It’s just that you’re proper fit and every time I look at you, I think I’m in danger of choking on my tongue a bit.”

Edwin’s eyes, previously trained on his lap, snapped up to Charles, wide and gray and beautiful. Charles stared back a little breathless. This was the closest he had been able to look at Edwin’s eyes and they were really pretty, like a pale gray, blue, green color. Charles couldn’t quite put his finger on an exact description.

Edwin’s face then flushed with color and belatedly Charles realized what he had said and his face heated, as well. Charles didn’t think he’d ever seen another bloke full face blush before. The pink went all the way down Edwin’s neck. Charles wondered how far down it went…

“Oh,” Edwin said faintly.

“Ah, sorry, that’s-” Charles fumbled, feeling all his awkwardness come back in a rush.

“No, it’s not-” Edwin mumbled, suddenly matching Charles’ stutter for stutter.

Crystal and Niko chose that moment to come back into the study room holding two steaming coffees each.

“Why does it smell like teenage hormones in here?” Crystal asked with a wrinkled nose.

“Did you guys have fun without us?” Niko asked in a sing song voice that might have been a lingering bit of accent or might have had to do with the sparkle in her eyes as she took in both of their flushed faces.

The two boys mumbled something and thanked the girls for their coffees and got back to studying quickly.

---

After the study group was over, Crystal and Niko waved goodbye and walked together toward the girl’s dorms. Charles and Edwin both hesitated on the front steps of the library.

“Hey would you-” Charles started to say at the exact time that Edwin spoke.

“It was very-” Edwin said, then stopped, both of them freezing with their mouths opening before stumbling over each other.

“Oh, so sorry, please go ahead.”

“Nah, mate. You go first.”

They both stumbled to a stop again and then fidgeted on the top step, not quite looking at each other.

Charles bit his lip and mustered his courage and asked, “Would you want to hang out this weekend?”

Edwin’s eyebrows went up. “With Crystal and Niko?” he asked slowly.

“If you want,” Charles said, keeping his face still so it wouldn’t show his disappointment.

But maybe he didn’t keep it still enough, because Edwin Payne was looking at him with all of his considerable focus.

“Would you want that?” Edwin asked. And his eyes were so odd and clear and he was looking at Charles and Charles couldn’t help but to tell the entire truth when Edwin Payne was looking into his eyes like that.

“I was wanting to take you on a date, to be honest,” he said with a lopsided smile.

And, oh, that blush was back and it looked even nicer in the fading sunlight than it had in the harsh fluorescence in the library.

“If that’s okay with you,” Charles hurried to tack on. He had never asked a boy out before. He very much didn’t want to embarrass or shock Edwin.

But, Edwin only smiled a small smile and said, “That would be quite alright with me.” Then he ripped a piece of notebook paper out of one of his many color coded spiral notepads he carried in his arms and scribbled something on it before holding it out to Charles. Charles took the paper curiously. “I look forward to it,” Edwin said awkwardly, then hurried down the steps and away across the grass.

Charles looked down at the paper in his hand. It had a phone number written across it in perfect handwriting.

Charles made good on his earlier statement and choked on his own tongue.

[passengerprincessblog]

“Off Track” - pt 6 Franco x Reader

Summary: As Y/N’s guilt grows heavier, her attempts to balance her feelings for both Lewis and Franco spiral out of control. A tense encounter at the Vegas circuit leaves Lewis suspicious and possessive, while Franco’s presence only fuels the fire.

It had been a few days since I last texted Franco. I’d been avoiding it on purpose, partly to manage my own guilt, partly because I knew I was slipping into dangerous territory. The guilt sat heavy in my chest, mingling with confusion and that thrill I couldn’t shake. What kind of person was I, cheating on Lewis—Lewis, of all people? He was one of the most accomplished, disciplined, and admired men on the planet, and he loved me. And yet… I couldn’t get Franco out of my mind.

He’d texted me a few times, little messages that I hadn’t replied to.

“Hey, what are you doing?”

“Are you okay?”

“Look, if I did something wrong, please tell me.”

Each time, I’d felt a pang of guilt, tempted to reply but holding back. I knew Franco hadn’t done anything wrong; it was me who was tangled in my own emotions, who couldn’t let go of this secret, forbidden connection we shared.

Now, here I was in Vegas for race week, a city that hummed with energy and excitement. It was the perfect distraction, the perfect place to bury all my complicated feelings. Lewis had us checked into an opulent hotel suite, and I’d been surprised by how affectionate he’d been, almost overwhelming me with his attention. So much sex, intimacy, so many moments where he seemed to be trying to rekindle whatever spark he felt was slipping between us. And as much as I tried to reciprocate, part of me couldn’t stop thinking about Franco.

Today was Thursday, the calm before the chaos, with only the drivers and team members milling around the circuit before the crowds arrived. I found myself in the Mercedes hospitality area, chatting with a couple of women from the media, trying to keep up with the light conversation while sipping on my cappuccino. It was nice, a little taste of normalcy amidst all the jet-setting and high-stakes events that had come to define my life.

Then, my phone buzzed.

I glanced down, trying to hide my reaction as my stomach flipped with excitement. Franco.

“Hermosa, please tell me you are here?”

A smile crept onto my face, and I felt a blush rise to my cheeks. What’s wrong with me? I scolded myself, forcing myself to stay composed with the others around. But I couldn’t resist. I quickly typed back.

“Yes, I am.”

His reply was almost instant.

“Where are you? Can we talk?”

I looked around, subtly checking my surroundings as I felt my heart beat faster. Could I really slip away? The thrill of it all bubbled up again, pushing aside the guilt. I responded without thinking.

“Yes. I can come to you. Where are you?”

“I’m in my driver’s room.”

“Okay, I’ll be there soon.” I hit send, tucking my phone away as I stood up, trying to keep my expression neutral.

“I’ll be back in a bit,” I said to the girls. They nodded, barely noticing as they continued their conversation.

I made my way out of the Mercedes area, a slight skip in my step as I imagined seeing him again. It was ridiculous, the way he could make me feel like a schoolgirl with a crush, completely giddy and oblivious to the world around me. I turned a corner, lost in thought, and nearly collided with a solid wall of muscle—Lewis.

“Oh… sorry,” I stammered, slightly taken aback.

He gave me a curious look, his gaze sweeping over me, taking in the cheerfulness I couldn’t quite hide. “It’s okay, angel,” he said, smiling, though there was something searching in his eyes. “You just can’t get enough of me, huh?”

I forced a laugh, trying to sound casual, and started to step around him, but he turned, keeping pace with me. “Where are you going?” he asked, his tone light, but with a hint of something else underneath. “I was just coming to get you, silly.”

“Oh?” I said, slowing my pace, my mind racing as I tried to come up with an excuse. How am I going to get out of this?

“Yes,” he teased, wrapping his arm around my shoulder as he started steering me in the opposite direction of Franco’s driver’s room. “I wanted some special Y/N time.”

I groaned softly. “Lewis… I wanted to go—”

“Go? Do what?” He stopped, turning to look at me with a raised eyebrow, his eyes narrowing slightly.

I felt my mind go blank. Think of something. “I was going to… like… you know… say hi to everyone.” The words came out awkwardly, and I mentally cringed. That’s what I came up with?

He tilted his head, his expression a mixture of amusement and suspicion. “Everyone? Who’s ‘everyone’?” he asked, sounding a little annoyed. “You don’t need to.”

I bit my lip, trying to think of a way to recover. “I was just going to say hi to Franco really quick.” The words slipped out before I could stop them, and I immediately regretted it.

“Franco?” he repeated, his tone tinged with confusion, as though he couldn’t fathom why I’d want to see him.

“Babe… Franco can wait,” he said firmly, tugging me gently down the hall toward his driver’s room.

“But—” I began, only to be interrupted by Toto, who approached us from the other end of the hallway.

“Y/N, keeping Lewis happy I see. Thank you,” Toto joked, giving me a friendly smile.

I laughed lightly, thankful for the distraction.

“Lewis, I need to talk to you quickly,” Toto said, nodding to him.

Lewis hesitated, glancing back at me with a look that was equal parts irritation and suspicion. “I’ll text you when I’m done, okay?” he said, his tone softening as he turned to follow Toto.

I let out a small sigh of relief as I watched them walk away. Thank you, Toto, I thought to myself, grateful for the chance to slip away unnoticed. I quickly made my way to the Williams area, feeling a giddy excitement bubbling up once again.

The moment he was out of sight, a smile crept back onto my face. I headed down the pit lane, practically floating as I made my way towards Franco’s driver’s room. When I reached his door, I paused, glancing around to make sure no one was watching. I knocked softly, my heart pounding.

A few mechanics looked in my direction, quickly averting their gaze, and a pang of paranoia shot through me. What if people start talking? What if Lewis hears about this? But before I could worry further, the door opened, and Franco stood there.

Franco’s face lit up, his hair slightly messy, his eyes sparkling with that familiar mischief. “You’re very late,” he teased, his accent making the words sound softer, more inviting.

“Sorry…” I murmured, smiling shyly as I looked at him, at the lips I’d been dying to kiss.

“Come on, hermosa,” he whispered, taking my hand and pulling me inside, gently closing the door behind us.

I sat down on the couch, trying to control the smile that was threatening to break across my face. Franco watched me, his arms crossed, a playful smirk on his lips.

“You look happy to see me,” he said, mock-scolding. “Even though you haven’t texted me back.”

“I’m sorry… I just… I didn’t…” I stammered, not wanting to mention Lewis.

“It’s okay. I understand,” he said softly, sitting beside me, his tone forgiving.

We locked eyes, the tension between us thick and undeniable. He reached up, gently brushing a strand of hair from my face, his fingers lingering a bit longer than necessary.

“Te ves muy hermosa hoy,” he murmured, his voice low and warm, his gaze holding mine.

I smiled, unable to help the blush creeping up my cheeks. “Thank you… you look beautiful too,” I teased.

He chuckled, his face warming slightly, and we fell into easy conversation, laughing and enjoying each other’s company. After a few minutes, I found myself confiding in him about my argument with Lewis, the way he’d thrown things in my face that made me feel small, undeserving.

Franco listened, his face soft with understanding, but there was a flicker of something else—something like disappointment, as if he were seeing his idol in a different light. He offered sweet, reassuring words, but I could tell that he was quietly hurt to hear about that side of Lewis.

To lighten the mood, he pulled out his laptop, showing me some silly concepts for his race helmet. We laughed together, pointing out the ridiculous designs, and for a moment, I forgot about everything else. But just as I was starting to relax, the door swung open.

It was Lewis.

He stood in the doorway, his gaze sweeping over us, taking in the sight of us laughing together on the couch. There was a tension in his posture, an edge to his expression that made my heart race with anxiety.

“Lewis, you should see this,” Franco said quickly, turning his laptop around to show him the designs. Franco’s quick thinking saved us, but I could feel Lewis’s eyes on me, studying me, suspicion lurking beneath the surface.

He forced a laugh, though it sounded hollow. “That’s… interesting, I guess. Sure, do it,” he said to Franco, his tone dismissive. But his gaze remained fixed on me, a silent accusation in the intensity of his stare.

Franco, bless him, kept his cool, despite the subtle shift in Lewis’s mood. “Thanks, Lewis. I think I will,” he said, managing a casual smile. But I could feel the discomfort radiating from him, the tension that now crackled between the three of us, like a storm waiting to break.

Finally, Lewis turned his attention back to me, and his voice softened, but it didn’t feel kind. “You hungry, sweetheart?” His words dripped with an exaggerated sweetness, an extra layer of endearment that made me feel even more anxious. It was almost patronizing.

I nodded, barely able to meet his gaze as I stood up, feeling Franco’s eyes on me, almost as if he was silently getting annoyed at Lewis.

Lewis motioned toward the door, his hand resting at the small of my back, guiding me out with a possessive grip that felt more like a statement than affection. “Then let’s get you something to eat, my love,” he said, his tone gentle but laced with something darker, as though he were challenging me to argue.

As soon as the door clicked shut behind us, his arm slipped around my waist, pulling me closer. His grip was firmer than usual, his fingers pressing into my side as we walked down the hall.

“I thought I told you to wait in my driver’s room?” he murmured, his voice low, a hint of accusation creeping into his tone.

I swallowed, my stomach twisting with anxiety. “No? You just said you’d text me when you were done…” My voice came out softer than I intended, almost hesitant.

His eyes narrowed, a flicker of irritation crossing his face. “Fine. But… what the hell was that all about?” His voice was sharp, cutting through the air between us like a knife.

“What?” I asked, forcing myself to keep my expression innocent, though my heart was pounding.

He looked at me, his gaze piercing, as though he were trying to see straight through me. “Don’t ‘what’ me, Y/N. You, sitting there laughing with Franco? Acting all… giggly?.”

I could feel my heart racing, panic clawing at my chest as I tried to think of a way to diffuse the tension. What am I supposed to say? “He just wanted to show me his helmet designs,” I stammered, shrugging as if it were nothing, forcing a casual tone that didn’t quite feel natural.

Lewis’s stare didn’t waver, his gaze intense as he tried to read every flicker of my expression. “Just don’t be in a room alone with him again,” he said, his voice firm, leaving no room for debate. It wasn’t a request; it was an order.

His arm tightened around me as we walked toward the Mercedes hospitality area, his grip almost possessive, like he was staking his claim. I could feel the tension rolling off him, the unspoken accusations simmering just beneath the surface. I could barely breathe under the weight of it, the silent message he was sending with every firm step he took.

Oh god… what am I going to do?

Next time …..

—————————————-

As always, thank you for reading and appreciating my works.

I hope my writings help you unwind and escape your life in a way that is exciting to you.

Please like and follow for more!

Xoxo

Princess

[maybefae]

Full (Super)Moon in Taurus Messages!

Pile 1 - Pile 2 - Pile 3

Remember, this is a general reading and it may not resonate for everyone or completely. Tarot is a tool to help guide but you are responsible for your actions and life, you choose your path.

Tips!

I want to preface this reading by clarifying that I’m not an astrologer! I enjoy it and I read about different events. On November 15, 2024, we will encounter the Full Supermoon in Taurus. This will be the last supermoon of the year! A supermoon is when the moon appears bigger and brighter in the sky, this one coming a little closer than usual. It magnifies the already heightened energies of a full moon. With it being in Taurus, the usual crazy energies will seem more grounded by this earth sign. However, the moon also aligns with Uranus and Neptune, so even if the energy is grounded, it will also push the boundaries of comfortability to help stimulate growth. Remember: evolving and adaptability is key to survival. Neptune will heighten emotions and psychic senses, so pay attention to dreams. But the main focus will be more in the material realm.

Pile 1

Tarot: Eight of Pentacles, Ten of Swords, Two of Wands, Seven of Cups, Nine of Cups, Six of Swords, Page of Cups, Six of Cups, Eight of Cups, Ace of Swords, Six of Pentacles

Oracle: Forgiveness (horizontal), Good Luck, Confidence, Beauty, Finding

In one of your cards, more specifically the seven of cups, there is an image of two frogs. Frogs can symbolize adaptability, like this moon-Uranus lineup. For some of you, especially since Taurus is linked to Venus (the planet of love, connections, beauty), there could be a message here for people in connections or are wanting to get a connection off the ground. You could be trying out different solutions to any hiccups in your relationships to see if it works. Or you could be willing to see where a new connection goes (could be with someone that you would usually not go for). There is a sense of going with the flow and not having an exact plan. This could make a lot of people uncomfortable, but this lunation tells us that we are pushing our limits a little bit. This person that seems like a gamble could be a wish you have been asking for! I think you two probably have to cultivate together a little for you to see that they are your wish fulfilment.

On the other hand, the frogs also look like a mirror reflection. This love could honestly be with yourself. You are taking the time to work on yourself and to carve yourself out of clay until you’re at your ideal you or ideal life. This could be another wish fulfilment. There is a sense of finally finding yourself after a while. You could honestly be feeling more beautiful and confident within yourself. Especially with other astrological events that deal with ending long and difficult chapters, you could honestly be at the point where you have broken out of people-pleasing ways. It doesn’t mean you don’t care or you don’t have empathy, but you are done helping people that won’t help you.

That being said, you could be leaving a job that wasn’t healthy for you. Somehow you leave, firing or quitting, but it’s a blessing in disguise because it seems like you are looking to chase your dreams. What’s on the other side is something that is worth working hard for. For some, this could just be a promotion. You could be leaving a position that sucks and be promoted into a position that you’ve really wanted and could’ve studied really hard for.

Okay. As I’m doing your reading, I just realized that the cards of this deck create an image when put side by side. And it is 2:22 AM. I’m gonna take it as a sign. Everything will feel like it’s aligning. Especially if you have been dealing with things falling apart or not working out.

There is also a sense of moving on. You are probably someone who hasn’t gotten apologies from people who have hurt/wronged you and it used to eat you up. I think you have gotten over the fact that you won’t get these apologies. If they do end up apologizing it feels more like a “thank you” from you and not an “I accept your apology.” And since you’ve let go of this situation it gives room for good luck and new situations.

Pile 2

Tarot: Five of Cups, Nine of Pentacles, Ace of Cups, The Sun, Six of Wands, Two of Wands, Eight of Cups, Four of Pentacles, Knight of Cups, Ten of Pentacles, Four of Wands, Two of Pentacles, Queen of Cups

Oracle: Finding, Strength, New Beginnings

Before I start with the cards, I want to say that one of the messages I heard was “One of the books you’ve been waiting for is coming out earlier than expected.”

I feel like your oracle cards are a full message in yourself, “Finding the strength in new beginnings.” I think a lot of people are feeling a desire to say “fuck it” and go after something they want. There is a feeling of wasting time being stuck in something that isn’t fulfilling. This energy is carried over from pile 1 but you seem more urgent about it. 

The world is seemingly falling apart and there is a feeling of not wanting to waste time on something that doesn’t make you happy. And you could be feeling the need to follow your heart. There is a goal that you can’t keep your mind off of but it seemed risky before but you are reaching the point where it seems like it won’t hurt to try. It will feel temporarily uncomfortable in the moment (there’s that Uranus energy) but I feel like you have a strong enough foundation to pick yourself up even if there’s a hiccup on the journey. Life is too short not to at least fulfil even the smallest of dreams (which could feel big to you). I think you will be very cheap with your money when you take the leap to walk away but I think it’s a smart idea. As long as you’re following your gut. If something is screaming at you that it’s wrong, then you can find a safety zone. But if it just makes you a little nervous, I think that’s where you will find the most growth. Following dreams will always feel risky.

The message here is to trust yourself. There is a new beginning on the horizon if you find the strength to muscle through a little uncomfortability. Even though your safety bubble is comfy to be in, your dreams won’t happen unless you step out of it (even if it’s just to take a small step). I think you’d be really proud of yourself and how you transform even from a small step towards your goal. (There are blue butterflies in each of your oracle cards.)

Pile 3

Tarot: Page of Swords, Queen of Wands, Page of Wands, Ten of Cups, Eight of Cups, The World, Two of Swords, Two of Cups, Four of Cups, Justice, Page of Cups

Oracle: Empowerment, Talent, Fertility, Friendship

Okay, breathe with me. Breathe in…1…2…3. Breathe out. Again! Breathe in…1…2…3. Breathe out. Before I even pulled the cards, they were giving me a hard time shuffling and it would only go if I relaxed and took a breath. They would also only start shuffling if I did it in a certain direction. Some of you are being stubborn about how you are doing something or you’re stuck in a freeze response. Relax, baby. Lemme see what the cards say. Breathe.

I just wanna get a message out of the way before I carry on to the more general ones. This could just be for one person but one of you could fall pregnant. This pregnancy could come out of the blue and everything seems overwhelming. Maybe you wanted a family but it’s far sooner than you expected or maybe you are going to be a single parent. I want to say that I believe everything is going to work out and your friends are more than willing to help out. Or it’s telling to you rely on your friends during this time.

Alright! So I think you have been bottling up your emotions and thoughts for far too long. The anxious feeling that I was feeling was probably you not speaking up for yourself and now you’re feeling disempowered. You have a very passionate and fiery soul underneath the meek page of swords, Pile 3. Speak up! What you have to say matters and I think you’ll be surprised with how much your thoughts are needed. Even if there is backlash, you will feel a whole lot better once you have gotten your emotions off your chest and thoughts out of your head! It’s not easy but I think it will become easier with time. You also could have a bunch of new ideas for something that could be beneficial. I think all of this mostly takes place in a work environment but take it and apply it to your situation. 

There could also be a message of turning to your friends at this time. They could offer some encouragement. But once you put everything on the table, I think you’ll be surprised with how things work in your favour.

Decks Used: Ethereal Visions Illuminated Tarot Deck by Matt Hughes, Spellcasting Oracle by Flavia Kate Peters and Barbara Meiklejohn-Free, Oriens Tarot Deck (Mini) by Ambisun, Mystical Manga Tarot by Rann and Barbara Moore

Dividers: @inklore

[lacrimosathedark]

The Radioapple Haters™️ are at it again.

This time they're attacking shippers with the newly released Playbill.

There's so many issues with that. Beyond harassing people for ships is dumb.

This is what people are pointing at.

This is on the cast info page. It says Lucifer misses his wife.

So, three things about that.

Firstly, We Been Knew, babe.

His very first appearance, after his daughter says her parents split up, he's in a room covered in pictures of not just said daughter, but her mother too, and he's still wearing a presumed wedding band. If that's not "showing not telling" with a goddamn airhorn, idk how more clear it could get without Lucifer flat out saying he misses Lilith. So like...this is not new info. So there's nothing to really rub in. We knew this.

Secondly, this is in-character Lucifer saying this.

I'm not a professional, but when I was in high school performances, we wrote our own little Playbill bio info things. That seems to carry into professional ones too. If you can read the actual cast, some of the the actors less entrenched in the fandom culture have basically an IMDB of their relevant previous roles, while the ones you see at cons are more personable. Those were written by the actors. So, logically, the character bios are written as if by the characters. This could not be made more obvious.

So, logically, you can read that little above as Lucifer himself actually saying he misses his wife. Which leads me to--

Third, break-ups are messy and painful and Lucifer not moving on, unwilling to remove his ring or call Lilith his ex, doesn't mean they are still together. Hell, they could still even be technically married, doesn't mean they're still romantically entangled.

Look, I know the only seeming one-sided relationships in the show is Vox/Alastor and Adam/Lilith and every other "pair" are together or at least friendly (Chaggie, Huskerdust, Cherrisnake, Staticmoth, Guitarspear) but not every separation has to be a violent resentful split. Lucifer is explicitly Depressed™️ which can be hard for any partner to deal with, especially someone as ambitious as Lilith. It wouldn't be surprising if she, not even cruelly, thought she'd be more successful away from him even if he still loves her.

And all this is on top of the fact that most Radioapple shippers don't expect their ship to happen (some hope it does, some hope it doesn't, I'm personally neutral on the concept), and that a lot of writers and artists explicitly acknowledge and use Lucifer's love for Lilith in Radioapple because people love the drama.

I have several posts listing why one might ship Radioapple so I won't go off about it here, but suffice to say the entanglement between Lilith and Alastor and how the two are similar and different makes interacting with Lucifer interesting from any angle.

This also hurts me personally a bit because a lot of these people are Lucilith shippers and, yall, I'm one of you. I don't want them to get back together for many reasons, but I would love to see endless flashbacks of them obnoxiously in love. Most of my favorite works of fanart aren't even Radioapple, my primary ship, but Lucilith, in large part because of how adorable they are. How indulgent or smitten Lilith can look. How adorably excited or flustered or just happy Lucifer can be.

I love Lucilith. I adore Lucifer. I just also think his interactions with Alastor are funny and intriguing.

We don't need to hate each other. We can try to keep our little sandboxes separate, but we can play nice when we spill into each other, can't we?

I am really just so sick of the silly in-fighting. It costs zero dollars and zero energy to not be a dick. Need to type out a rant to get it out and off your chest? cool. But you can post it privately or delete it instead of going into peoples' ask boxes and and posts to be nasty. Not having the self control and wherewithal to not go out of your way to be a dick to people is honestly pretty pathetic. If you think you're so much better, prove it by being better, or being smug in your space. Making people feel like shit for a nonexistent fictional relationship does literally nothing for anyone and makes YOU look worse.

Dislike the ship all you want. No one cares either way. Just don't waste your limited time in this life making your distaste everyone else's problem.

[panpanghost]

Part 4 of this (I'm sorry, idk what I'm doing but so many people are interested in this and I'm trying to give you a proper au.)

So the crown was made by dark magic and making the curse required the sacrifice of an entire... kingdom... Would taking it off also require a sacrifice?

There's also something off about the translation, how come it doesn't say how to do the spell or undo it? Where is the rest of this? Maybe I can find something in the celestial realm, but I can't leave Moonpie alone here. They might return to take him and he can't protect himself... Maybe I can get MK to watch over him-

_"Wukong! Showers!" Macaque called from the hot bath tub, it's like a little swimming pool or a jacuzzi, being king is great.

_"Coming!" Wukong loves this. He can't wait to have Macaque wash his hair and untangle all the knots.

After Macaque lost his memories they shower together almost everyday. Sure, when Macaque first walked in on him in the showers he almost had a heart attack, but now that he's gotten used to it like before, it's so great and relaxing. To most creatures it's considered rude or invasion of privacy, but not to monkeys, they do that to show their bonds and love to each other. No one understands that, only Macaque does.

_"Where have you been? Get in." Macaque said already sitting in the water.

_"Sorry about that, little ones were having a fight." Wukong says undressing,

_"Again? These guys create trouble when there's none."

_"I know, right?" Wukong said relaxing in the warm water,

_"Don't get too comfy, someone needs to groom my furr."

_"So demanding." Even though he said that, this is Wukong's favourite part about the showers, Macaque loves his furr, sure it's not as thick and silky as it used to be but Wukong will make sure it gets back to its previous glory.

_"Hey Sunny..." Macaque spoke after a while, picking at his tail,

_"Yeh Moony?" It's been so long since Macaque used that nickname for him, he can't get used to it, his heart will explode.

_"I was wondering... Would it be okay if you take me to see the kid and his friends."

_"Wh-Why?"

_"I want to ask them something."

_"You can ask me."

_"I know, but you won't answer."

_"What are you talking about? I always answer."

_"No, you never do. I don't even know the kid's name because you won't tell me and won't let me meet him to ask!"

_"It's MK. Just calm down, no need to be so angry about it."

_"I am angry, Wukong. Why won't you tell me anything?! Why does he have your staff? Why is he radiating your energy?! Why is he even allowed to come here?! Is he-" Macaque takes a deep breath, "Is he yours?"

_"What? NO! nonononono no, he's not, he was just born from the same rock as me, that's all."

_"What?"

_"Listen, I gave him the staff because I want him to be my successor."

_"A successor? You're immortal, why would you need that?"

_"Because... Because I'm tired." Wukong let down his glamour as he said that and Macaque could see all his scars, it was silent for a moment,

_"oh Wukong..." Macaque watched in horror, he approached slowly in case his sun wanted him to stop, "life hasn't been kind to you, has it?" Macaque held his face in his hands,

_"..." Wukong just melted in Macaque's warmth as he kissed his scars, gently, one by one,

_"Who did this?" Macaque asked, looking in his king's eyes.

Wukong saw it, the same murderous eyes his moon had when he first saw the monk use the fillet on him. Wukong doesn't blame him, he had the same look on his face when he saw his moon drenched in blood and those assholes trying to abduct him. He'll kill them when he finds them.

_"He's gone, been dead for years now."

_"Hm. Lucky." Macaque said, a bit of disappointment in his voice.

_"Heh, forget about him, just, stay with me okay?"

_"Where would I go without you?" Macaque hugged Wukong, bringing him closer to his chest.

But you did, you left, and I didn't know where you were, you only came when the world was ending then disappeared again. But it's ok now, You can't leave. I won't let you.

_"Hey, do you think we'll have matching scars?" Macaque asked jokingly,

_"Why? Does it hurt?" Wukong yanked himself out of the hugg and held Macaque's head, is the crown crushing his skull?!!!!

_"No, it doesn't," Macaque held his hands, "I can't feel it most of the time, only when I try to use my powers. I was just wondering if it'll leave a mark, and then we can have matching scars."

_"Not unless you can pluck my eye out."

_"No use, it'll just regenerate."

_"Yeh, that would happen." Wait-

_"Let's get out of this shower, it feels suffocating and I'm hungry." Macaque got out of the tub, "Let's go."

My eyes regenerate, can I give him one-

_"Wukong!"

_"A! You go first, I'll just wash a little more then fallow you."

_"Alright, but just wash up, I'll groom your furr inside." Macaque said putting a towel on,

_"Ok." he gave Macaque a little smile as he left.

[briarberrythornedhart]

Eddie Casts Song of Restoration

Content: Sick hurt/Comfort, innuendo and flirting, reader described as having breasts, reader has never heard of Vic’s vapor rub going on your feets 😅. I know, that’s gonna ruin this for some of us. Just pretend with me.

🦇 ♥️ 🦇 🎸 🦇 💀 🦇 🎸 🦇 ♥️ 🦇

You’d been together for 19 days and 6 hours when you caught the flu.

You told Eddie to stay away from your house until you were well, but Eddie is not exactly stellar at following orders.

It was the fatigue that was the worst and you didn’t want to ever see Eddie as listless as you felt. You liked it best when he was revved up and bouncing around like a coiled spring.

He was very bouncy right now.

“Orange juice, check. Ginger ale, check. Chicken soup and crackers. Check Check. More tissues - the Good Ones.” Eddie said, plopping his purchases onto the counter. “Vapor rub which Uncle Wayne says cures what ails ya’. And Of course - movies for distraction purposes. Plus me, as a bonus distraction.” He bowed to you, but he was the opposite of humble.

“Babe, didn’t want you to get sick.” You said weakly. “Didn’t Dustin tell you I said to stay away?”

You clutched the afghan around you and shuffled further away as if a few measly feet would protect your beloved from the plague you carried.

What you needed was hazmat suits, then you could hug him safely. You wanted to hold him so badly.

Eddie cocked his head and licked a canine. “You ever known me to do what that little shrimp says? Also, I knew you needed me.” He held out his arms to catch you up in them, but a sudden sneeze caught you without tissue in hand and slightly green goop was now dripping from your nose

“Awwww gross…” you complained and begged him. “Don’t look at me, I’m so disgusting.”

Eddie laughed, not cruelly, “Sweetheart, where is all that ectoplasm coming from??” He brought his bandana up to wipe your face off, ignoring your complaints that it would need to be BURNED afterwards. “Listen, you are not gross. It’s just snot. You are as gorgeous as ever, and I loooove the outfit.” He had clocked that you were wearing a Megadeth shirt and just underwear underneath your your afghan ‘cloak’. His voice dropped an octave - you felt it rumble in your ears. “That’s my shirt...Don’t you know what that does to me…?” sliding his warm hands under the afghan to meet your thighs.

You felt the traitorous cough building in your chest and couldn’t stop it no matter how hard you tried. It bent you double. It sounded atrocious.

“Whoa-whoa, hey, I’m sorry, I won’t molest you while you're sick, don’t cough up a lung on me.” Eddie slung an arm around your shoulder and led you back to the couch.

“You would… if I wasn’t sick, though?” You asked glumly, “You’d molest me to my heart’s content?”

Eddie did a double take at that, and then chuckled in his best demonic manner, “Say the word and you’ll be thoroughly molested, good and proper. Soon as you want it.” Quixotically changing tone to be sweet again, his doe-eyes soft and concerned. “Do you wanna lay down, or prop up against me?”

“Can’t lay down, get too stuffy.” You sniffed, a bit pathetically.

“Okay, sit here, imma put on the first movie and then we can cuddle up.” Eddie popped open a white clamshell VHS case. “You said you loved Muppet movies, Robin suggested I get you ‘Hey Cinderella’ - and ‘The Frog Prince’ - both are Muppety versions.”

“I think you might be the sweetest boyfriend in the whole world.”

“I know, right?…and now…” he unscrewed the cap of vapor rub, “to put this mentholated greasy shit…sorry... stuff.. on your feet.”

“What? Vapor rub is…chest…stuff. Chest rub. For chests??”

“Wayne said he puts it on his feet when he has a cold - said he did that for me when I was a toddler.” Eddie suddenly looked at you with a little smirk, “Dooooo youuuu want me to rub this on your chest? All over it? Cause that’s the kinda sweet boyfriend I am, I will do that, for you, if you want?” He licked his upper lip, face all mischievous.

He was a good distraction. “Yeah, well... when they say ‘chest’ they mean upper chest,” You patted just below your neck. “... not these.” You cupped your breasts at him.

His eyes widened and so did his smirk. “Show me again, I’m confused. Where doesn’t it go??” He scootched closer.

You tsked your tongue. “Actually what would be best - is if I rubbed this on your chest and stomach - and then laid my head on you. Like a big warm sexy healing pillow.”

“I don’t want to be described as a pillow - but I’ll take the rest.”

He let you put the chest rub on him, only wrinkling his nose up until you started massaging it in (avoiding his nipples), then you sent Eddie shivering into a little body-roll of pleasure as you drifted your hands down to his naval.

“Your hands feel s-s-so good... go lower??” His voice broke slightly on the ask.

“I’m not sure this is okay to go on any sensitive skin - like - pretty sure crotch is a no-go, babe.”

Eddie sighed a laugh, “Whoops, I didn’t come over here to have you take care of me. C’mere.” He held out his arm so you could get as close as possible and lay your heavy head on his chest. He held you sweetly and watched your silly muppety movies and sang you some Led Zeppelin until you drifted off to sleep.

But it has to be said, that as soon as you felt better, you gave him a full body massage with body safe oil and it did not disappoint.

[hydrangeapartridge]

The Last Day of a Condemned Woman (Veilguard Female Rook/Emmrich)

Beware spoilers for Emmrich's quest line.

Okay so I wrote a little something thinking about the day Johanna would receive her punishment and Emmrich and Rook would have to say goodbye to her. Set after the events of the game.

It's a bit sad but also domestic Rook and Emmrich!

Enjoy!

«Darling, have you seen my collar pin ? » Emmrich’s strained voice was heard from the bedroom, distant noises of his shuffling around reaching Rook’s ears.

« I believe it would be in the box where you always put it away, on the nighstand ? » She replied from the living room.

« I already searched there an it wasn- » Emmrich started before he interrupted himself, then grumbled something intelligible. « Nevermind, I found it ! » He told her from afar.

Rook chuckled to herself. Emmrich was obviously stressed. It was unusual for him to misplace his belongings. He was a very organized and tidy man ; except for the eventual stray papers and books that could litter his desk when he was really engrossed in his studies. So much so that when Rook moved in with him, she didn’t quite feel at home in the space that he had inhabited alone for years. But that was ancient history. Now his cosy but spacious residence in Nevarra was their home. And Manfred’s of course.

Emmrich was stressed but he had reasons to be. Today was a big day.

« Urgh, now he has memory impairement.. I cannot fathom how you decided to attach yourself to that senile sentimental you call ‘husband’ » Johanna’s voice echoed from her skull under the glass container that Rook carried her in.

Husband. That notion was familiar too now. It had been a few years already since Rook and Emmrich exchanged vows, first alone in the intimacyof the Necropolis’ garden where they first kissed, with Shroud’s Kiss flowers in her hands and hair, and then in style with the people they loved in the beautiful scenary of her native Arlathann.

Rook sighed at Johanna’s usual bickering but didn’t grace her with a reply. That onlt served to irritate the undead more.

« I heard you again last night you know ! How that decrepit weakling can go at it like that without breaking his osteoporotic bones is beyond me ! »

It wasn’t the first time Johanna said something crass of the sort, yet Rook still blushed, remembering the events of the previous night. What started with her gently holding her troubled husband turned into less chaste activities to keep his mind off things when he got frustrated that he couldn’t find sleep.

It was a delightfuly tender moment, and a good way to then spend a good night. But Rook didn’t really want to share that with a half-liche power hungry necromancer.

« Jealous Johanna ? » Rook grinned, regaining her composure and usual cockiness. « You won’t be getting any anytime soon I fear »

Johanna only huffed indignantly.

After a beat of silence, Rook asked more gently. « So, ready for the big day ? »

« You mean the day I finally get to leave that sickenly sweet home of yours ? » Johanna scoffed again.

Rook was used to her antics, that old lady didn’t know how to express herself in any other way.

« At least my ordeal will end there » Johanna dramatically added.

Those Necromancers really had a thing for the dramatic.

The corners of Rook’s lips turned down. « It would be okay to be afraid you know » She said, lower this time.

« Afraid ?! Me ?! » Johanna of course was offended. « Unlike Volkarin I am not a coward »

She paused and the silence felt heavy in the room.

« I’ll face whatever will come, like I did everything else »  Her voice came from the skull, quieter this time.

Rook’s fingers ran over the glass of Johanna’s highly warded prison, almost synmpathetically. After a long trial, as well as years of researches and discussions, the Liche Masters of the Mourn Watch adjudicated the case of Johanna Hezenkoss, as well as the punishment for her crimes. And the day of judgement was this very one.

After a ritual in which Emmrich was to participate, Johanna’s soul would be cut from any contact with the fade, and then, all maimed and powerless, would be imprisonned in a forgotten dark corner of the Necropolis, guarded by spirits and warded by the most powerful of spells, for eternity. As a mage, Rook likened her fate to being made Tranquil. A fate worse than death, and a life of suffering for a soul that wouldn’t be complete anymore. It was a fate she wouldn’t have wished upon even such an ennemy.

Dear Emmrich in all his kindness and idealism voted against that cruel punishment, but he sadly wasn’t part of the decisive majority.

« I’ll miss you Johanna » Rook half jested half confessed.

All these years they had kept her, for it was Emmrich’s duty to watch her. When they could have put her away in an abandonned room, they chose to keep her in Emmrich’s study. Guarding her was a duty he took very seriously (like he always did with work), and which also allowed him to regularly converse with an old friend (on the rare occasions where said friend was in a good enough mood not to insult him). Johanna had been part of their lives since the Veilguard, and seeing her go was like turning a page over years of their shared lives.

If Rook felt nostalgic, she couldn’t begin to picture how Emmrich felt on this day. Given how long he took to get dressed, it must have been worse than she thought.

« Of course you’ll miss me » Johanna retorted « I’m the only interesting person in this house ! »

Rook didn’t pay attention to her and asked Manfred to go check on Emmrich.

- - -

If the Necropolis could sometimes feel warm, intimate and inviting, the room where they stood felt as cold as ice.

Emmrich stood before Rook in his elegant gold and black ceremony attire. The wrinkles at the corner of his eyes and of his lips were deeper than when they met, from age and from smiling so much since then. There was more white now than grey in his hair, but he still looked most dashing of all the necromancers present. However Rook could tell his posture was stiff and his shoulders tensed when he carefully took the glass container that held Johanna’s skull in his gloved hands.

« Thank you for accompanying me today darling » He whispered as not to disturb the ambiant calm.

« Of course. Wouldn’t want to miss Johanna’s retirement party » She joked to try and alleviate the heavy tension in the air.

« You know you won’t be able to attend dearest »Emmrich seriously replied. She knew that, he already told her so, but she let it slide. « And it’s best you don’t. The ritual might be… difficult to handle for unprepared souls»

Emmrich was frowning and Rook knew he wasn’t eager to participate in the curse Johanna would be put under. She wished she could support him further. She placed one hand over his and squeezed gently ; she couldn’t do much more.

« Let us get this over with » Vorgoth’s voice echoed behind them.

Emmrich let out a deep sigh and gave Rook an admitedly melancholic smile. « See you soon darling »

Rook waved and let out a casual « Bye Johanna » trying not to let emotion fill her. Her goodbye got no answer.

Manfred stepped beside her and watched Emmrich walk to the other necromancers, observing, curious as ever.

« Sad ? » He asked.

He kept surprising Rook everyday with how much he improved in magic, language, and these days even grasping human emotions, trying to understand them in his own way.

« Yeah. Saying goodbye is always a bit sad »

Manfred nodded with a contemplative whistling sound.

- - -

The group of mages performing the ritual was already in place. All Emmrich had to do now was open the large ornated doors of the grand auditorium and join them. This would be over soon and he would go back home with Rook and Manfred and forget about the horror of it all.

Taking another slow shaky breath to calm his nerves, he went for the door handle when a short call of « Volkarin ! » stopped him, making him jump in surprise.

He eyed down Johanna’s skull, blinking twice then clearing his throat to regain his composure. « What is it Johanna? Last words or requests maybe ? » He asked kindly, ready to listen to her like he would anyone on the verge of dying. She did terrible things in the past, but he still made it a point to respect the final wishes of a sentenced soul.

Johanna didn’t answer immediately, and Emmrich started wondering if she was stalling. But then her voice came out, low and softer, just how he remembered it from their shared years as students.

« Will you be there until the end of the ritual ? »

Emmrich’s gaze softened « I will » He promised.

A beat of silence. Then a voice from inside urging him.

« Be more strict with the wayward company you dare call a family would you ? » Johanna said when he reached for the door again. He stopped but before he could retort, she whispered her last words.

«  Live long, and live well, you impossible man »

- - -

Rook was tapping her foot nervously when the large doors of the auditorium finally opened. Waiting for Emmrich had felt like an eternity. She kept worrying something would go wrong. Johanna was full of surprises, and it wouldn’t have been past her to try and get out of her sentence with a few dirty tricks. She was relieved to see only calm necromancers exit the room, unharmed. Everything seemed to have gone right.

Now to see in what state of sorrow she would get her soft husband back.

Emmrich was the last to exit, stepping away from the group carrying the funeral urn in which the remains of what once was Johanna were trapped. He didn’t spare a word to anyone and rushed to rejoin with Rook. He stopped before her, looking down, inhaling deeply before he straightened up, repositionning his already perfectly adjusted collar.

« It is done » He told her, nodding his head solemnly.

When he looked up to meet Rook’s eyes, she saw how misty his warm brown gaze was. She tenderly raised a hand to cradle his cheek and gently wipped an unshed tear from the corner of his eye.

Emmrich leaned into the touch for a short moment of indulgence, then sniffed and cleared his throat, stepping back. « The ritual was messy ; old books, bones, dust everywhere... » He mumbled, keeping his crying in check with a rub of his gloved thumb under each eye. Of course he would blame it on allergies. He probably didn’t want the others to see how affected he was.

Watchers were supposed to be at peace with loss and accept it with detachment. Emmrich’s tender heart never quite achieved that, but to Rook, it only made him more human and more lovable.

Rook took his hand and slowly traced his pulsepoint with her thumb. « My dear husband, the love in your heart overflows it seems. » She smiled just for him. « Let’s get you home to a nice warm cup of tea »

« Home ! » Manfred chirped in, excited. « Tea and biscuits ! » He raised his arms in the air. « With sugar ! » He then added, mimicking the sugar clamp he loved so much with his hand. The spirit’s show of enthusiasm made Emmrich chuckle, the sound still a bit wet from his tears.

« Yes my dears. Let us go home »

[thisgirlnamedblusy]

Hello blusy!

I would like to request something about Donna dating reader and everything going great but reader's family is hesitant about the relationship and that makes reader sad. Donna sensing how important family is to reader decides to get out of her comfort zone and tries to make reader's family more comfortable around her like making toys for readers little nieces and nephews after seeing their parents don't have much money to buy them a lot of toys. and ironically the little ones of the family are the ones more comfortable around donna and angie. Maybe one day reader gets sick and her family witness how donna is there for her and taking care of her and that makes them change their mind like "okay, maybe she is not that bad like they say".

Thank you!

Yesss!!!! Thank you for your request!!! I hope you like it and sorry about the language mistakes!!!! :))))

Opening their eyes

Pairing: Donna Beneviento x Fem! Reader

Warnings: Fluff, maybe a bit of angst

Word count: 8,543

Summary: You can't choose between Donna and your family...

N/A: Sorry about the language mistakes!!! Requests are open!!! I'm waiting yours!!! I love you all!!! :))

“Ugh, mom,” you protested while your mother hugged you as if she hadn't seen you in years.

“(Y/N), you don't know how happy I am to see you,” the woman said, with shining eyes, as if she really thought that for a moment she had lost you. “I thought I would never…”

“It's not that big of a deal,” you said with an amused smile, downplaying it while you made a gesture with your hands.

“Young lady,” your father whispered, crossing his arms as you entered the house. “We were really worried about you. You didn't come last week.”

“Oh, well, I had a terrible cold,” you explained, accompanying your parents to the living room. “I was too tired to come.”

“It was definitely a cold,” your father said with a certain irony that made you roll your eyes. “You could have called.”

“Sorry, dad, I was too busy with the fever,” you said amused, relaxing in what was once your home. “I've told you a thousand times that I'm fine.”

They both looked at each other with a strange expression, sitting next to you and bringing you a cup of tea.

“I know those looks,” you said suspiciously, frowning. “What's wrong? Did something happen with Mihaela? Oh, don't tell me she's pregnant again.”

“Your sister is perfectly fine, (Y/N),” your mother said with a serious tone.

“Great,” you said nodding, blowing on your cup. “Me too.”

“Allow me to doubt it,” your father murmured, with his eyebrows raised.

“Look at me, I’m fine,” you said spreading your arms in an exaggerated way. “I've never been better,” you said the last sentence with a slightly darker tone, knowing what they really meant. “(Y/N), honey, why don't you come home?” your mother finally asked, giving vent to something you knew she was holding back. “You'd be better off with your parents.”

“Mm, I see,” you said, huffing again, leaning your back on the couch as you shook your head. “There's no way I'm coming to visit you without you trying to drag me back into your shelter, huh?”

“We only want the best for you,” your mother said, with a worried expression.

“What about Mihaela? You don't demand that she come back to live with you,” you protested, in a somewhat childish way.

“Mihaela has formed a wonderful family, (Y/N),” your father asserted. “A completely normal one.”

“Oh, of course, I'm not normal,” you said in a mocking tone, narrowing your eyes. “I've heard this before.”

“What your father means, (Y/N),” your mother interrupted, giving her husband a fiery look. “It's that your sister doesn't give us any reason to worry about.”

“Doesn’t she?” you said, blinking petulantly. “So, according to you, I should be married and giving you lots of grandchildren, right?”

“Sometimes I dream that's true, (Y/N),” the man said, with a satisfied look. “At least she doesn't live with a dangerous crazy woman.”

“Hey,” you sighed annoyed, shaking your head. “You've set a new record, dad, it didn't take you even 5 minutes to mess with Donna, fabulous.”

“Donna…” he whispered, with a fake smile. “Of course, I should have guessed that my youngest daughter would get involved with the freakiest freak in the village.”

“Marcus… Don't say things like that, what if she can hear you?” your mother said, looking around.

At that comment you couldn't help but laugh ironically, swallowing the words that wanted to come out of your mouth, reflecting before starting another argument with your parents, another argument about your girlfriend.

“Can't you understand that I love her?” you said annoyed. “Besides, Donna is a Lord, I couldn't be more protected with anyone.”

“We, (Y/N), we are the ones who need to be protected from them,” your father said, always finding a scathing answer for everything you said. “Protectors of the village… well, they're just a bunch of heartless monsters. Sorry for worrying that one of them seduced my daughter.”

“Seduced?” you asked, leaning forward, starting to get nervous. “There are at least two things wrong with what you said. First, Donna isn't a monster, and second… to be fair, I seduced her.”

“Gods…” your mother sighed, probably imagining horrible things in her head. “Couldn't you notice someone normal, like your sister did?”

“You know that my tastes are special,” you said haughtily, looking at your nails. “Hey, I understand that you have doubts, but I assure you that Donna is a nice soul, she takes care of me, loves me and protects me.”

“She's crazy, (Y/N), everyone knows it, you knew it since you were little,” your mother said, putting a protective hand on your shoulder. “It's just a matter of time before she hurts you.”

“Ugh, how many times do I have to say it? Donna isn't crazy, she's sick,” you said, defending your girlfriend, as always. “If I had lived in isolation, enduring the mockery of children, my sister would have died and my parents would have thrown themselves into the void in front of me, I wouldn't be right in the head either.”

“I see she has taught you well to defend her,” your father whispered, darkening his gaze. “What else has she taught you, (Y/N)?”

“Do you really want to know?” you challenged with a sharp tone, internally trying to calm your words.

“(Y/N),” your mother protested at your rudeness. “It doesn't matter what you say, we are older, we have known Lady Beneviento since long before you were born and we know the horrible things she has done.”

“You know how to judge others, don't you? You seem good at it,” you said with a slightly childish tone. “Look, I'm 22 years old. I'm old enough to judge for myself.”

“You're a brat, (Y/N),” your father said, pointing at you with his finger. “Your mother also thought she was old enough at your age, and what a coincidence, Mihaela was born shortly after.”

“Well, don't worry, I'm not pregnant,” you said mockingly, looking away from your parents. “Hey... I know Donna seems terrible and that she's... a little scary, but I assure you that she's a kind, loving and sensitive woman. She has nothing to do with what those stupid rumors say.”

“A rumor can be false, (Y/N), but hundreds of them are closer to the truth,” your mother commented, with that tone of false wisdom that got on your nerves. “You're in love, you probably have her idealized, and when you realize your mistake we won't be able to save you.”

“Save me? That was a good one,” you said, shaking your head, moving your legs nervously. “I don't need anyone to save me, mom. Donna isn't like they say, but I care less and less that you don't believe me.”

“You should care, young lady,” your father said with the same smug tone. “Don't you understand that we're doing this for your own sake?”

“And you don't understand that Donna is good for me?” you counterattacked, with a harsher tone. “If you're going to be messing with Donna every time I come to see you, maybe I have to stop coming.”

“Lady Beneviento is a sinister and dangerous woman, I can't sleep peacefully knowing that you live with someone like that,” your mother said, making your anger increase.

“If you knew her you wouldn't say those things,” you murmured with an indignant pose, thinking coldly about your words.

“No, thank you, I'm proud that none of those abominations have ever entered my house,” the man said with a sarcastic smile. “That woman is not welcome here, (Y/N).”

“Wait, Marcus...” your mother whispered, thoughtfully. “What if the girl is right? Maybe we should give her the benefit of the doubt.”

“Svetlana, don't be condescending, a brat like her doesn't have the right to the benefit of the doubt,” your father growled. “Keep that freak away from this house, (Y/N), and away from you.”

“Insult her again, come on,” you said, standing up threateningly. “If you don't accept Donna it means you don't accept me, so I don't want to waste my time in this house anymore,” you said angrily, walking to grab your coat and walk out the door.

“(Y/N)…” your mother sighed, chasing you, while your father didn't move, staying on the couch with a mocking laugh. “(Y/N), wait…”

“No, mom, you're always judging me, I've been living with Donna for a year and I've never given you any reason to worry about, but you don't understand, you still don't understand,” you said, opening the door. “My sister married an idiot and you've never said anything to her, is it because Donna's a woman?”

“No, honey, it's because of who that woman is,” your mother said, closing the door a little behind you.

“It doesn't matter how many times I tell you that the rumors are wrong, right? Why bother to keep insisting? I'm leaving, we'll see each other later,” you said, turning around abruptly, ready to go back home.

“Wait, (Y/N),” your mother interrupted with a hand on your arm. “Wait, my girl. Listen, next week your nephews are coming to eat at home, and I would like you to come too.

“I, of course,” you hissed, blinking impatiently. “I'll think about it.”

“Maybe you could... I don't know, maybe it would be a good time for us to meet... Lady Beneviento,” your mother hinted, making you raise your eyebrows.

“Mm, do you want to meet Donna? It's funny, you just said that she's a dangerous crazy woman,” you said suspiciously.

“I honestly don't have any desire to meet... that woman, but maybe I could feel relieved if I saw for myself that she's not a danger to you,” the woman explained, making you think.

“Donna doesn't leave the house, I doubt it's possible,” you muttered to yourself, scratching the back of your neck. “Can't you just trust my word?”

“We trust your sister's word and now we have two grandchildren,” your mother joked, which caused you to give a slight smile to her. “Sometimes you have to see it to believe it, (Y/N).”

“I don't promise you anything,” you whispered, really thinking about that possibility. “Besides, dad doesn't want her to enter his house.”

“Oh, let me convince your father, you know that he softens a lot when he's with the kids,” she said amused, putting your clothes back on in a motherly way.

“I assure you that it is much easier to convince that stubborn old man than Donna, but well, I will try,” you said, walking back home.

Visits to your parents always had a bitter taste, an almost unbearable tension that you had to go through. For you, your family was important, really important, and your new circumstances didn’t prevent you from continuing to maintain contact.

You were a simple villager, born into a humble family, with no outstanding features beyond a certain ease with words. Your destiny was never written, it was always a messy scribble written with erasable ink. One day, the day when, by chance, you met Donna Beneviento, Lord of the village, the words were finally written permanently, indelible.

Donna was a strange woman, yes, sick and tormented by her past. She had been alone for years, fulfilling her duties to the village, protecting it, keeping it under the protection of the Black Gods. You were no stranger to the rumors, to the terrible things she did in the past. You never gave importance to those acts of self-defense or desperate moves.

She was… cultured, sensitive, tremendously intelligent and she was longing to have someone who really understood her, someone who would brutally end her loneliness, forever. Of course you didn't think that it was you.

Her beauty hidden by a horrible veil, the sale of her soul to the Gods, her worries, her complexes, her insecurities, soon became discoveries for you, things that made the lady in black more and more interesting.

Falling in love with her was not difficult, her falling in love with you was just a matter of days. Contrary to what anyone might think, your life wasn’t a torment of hallucinations and nightmares, but quite the opposite, it was a valley full of light and affection, of kisses, hugs, words of love, strong and unbreakable feelings.

Of course you remember the day when you had no choice but to tell your parents who was occupying your thoughts, with whom you would spend the rest of your life. To say that they were surprised would be to understate it. You argued with them, your mother cried, your father cried for revenge…

During that whole year you did nothing but show off the Italian's goodness to them, beg them to stop worrying and pay attention to partially false rumors. They never believed you, every time you went to visit them it was the same story. Worry, fear, childish strategies to get you to return to them…

No one, not even your family could get you to stop loving Donna, no one, never, but sometimes, just sometimes, you wished the situation would change, that your parents would accept your decisions and stop thinking you were just an immature brat.

You had found the love of your life and, having clear where you wanted to be, your next goal became to achieve that pleasant coexistence between the two most important things in your life, Donna and your family.

“Tesoro, are you okay? You haven't tried the lasagna, don't you like it?” the lady in black asked, while you were having dinner in silence, as always.

You shook your head as you played with your food, submerged in a sea of ​​thoughts and helplessness that threatened to disturb your happiness.

“I love your lasagna, really,” you said sighing, starting to eat your dinner so as not to worry your girlfriend absurdly.

“Is something wrong, (Y/N)? Are you feeling sick again?” the lady asked again, with that worried glint in her eye that you adored.

Seriously, how could your parents doubt her? The hard thing was getting her to let you breathe.

“Mm? No, no, I'm fine,” you said with a confident tone, nodding confidently.

“You shouldn't leave the house yet, you could suffer a relapse,” Donna said, with a dark look.

“Nonsense, I'm fine,” you said amused, suppressing a cough that revealed that perhaps you hadn't fully recovered. “I need some wine.”

Donna smiled tenderly, serving you a glass in an elegant manner.

“Prego…” she whispered, leaving the bottle on the table and studying you with her gaze. “Is anything worrying you?”

“No, nothing,” you lied, with a sigh that revealed your true thoughts.

As expected, the lady in black wasn’t the most versed in interpreting gestures or typical human behavior. Poor thing, she spent too much time alone.

“Donna,” you said, drawing her attention with a frown at her involuntary indifference. “Hey, look at me. It's obvious that something is worrying me.”

“Oh, um... is something wrong?” she asked confused, stopping eating. “You told me you were fine.”

“Please, it was obviously a lie,” you joked, shaking your head. “Come on, try again, darling.”

“I... Is something wrong?” she asked  nervously, confused by your much more casual attitude, by your heart's attempt to give back to the brunette all the years that cruel fate had taken from her.

“Yes,” you sighed, finishing your dinner and taking a sip of wine. “I argued with my parents again,” you finally said, with a sad tone.

“I'm so sorry,” Donna said, reaching out her hand to caress yours tenderly. “It was my fault, right?”

“No, well…” you said, unsure if it was the right answer. “It's not your fault, darling, it's just that they are… stubborn,” you said with a slightly more relaxed tone. “They are incapable of accepting what we have.”

“It’s my fault then,” she murmured, wiping her face with a napkin and lowering her gaze. “They must think I'm a monster.”

“No,” you lied again, playing with her hand, caressing it gently so she wouldn't get too nervous.

A crisis was the last thing you needed that day.

“It's not your fault, Donna, it's them who... Ugh, they think I don't have enough judgment to decide who I want to spend the rest of my life with,” you commented, rolling your eyes. “What nonsense, my sister's husband is a jerk and they never told her anything.”

“He wasn't a Lord,” the lady whispered, shaking her head. “They just want to protect you... from me.”

“No, no, no, Donna, don't start with your super-powerful-Lord complex” you said moving your other hand and studying her nervous gestures, the trembling of her hand in yours. “I love you just the way you are, my love, I don't care if you're a Lord or...”

“Or a nutcase,” she finished, lowering her gaze again.

“Well, they can say whatever they want,” you finally sighed, finishing your glass of wine. “I don't care what they think of you, I know it's not like that. Damn it, they judge me when both my mother and my sister got pregnant by two stupid oafs, do they really think I would do the same?”

The lady choked on her drink at your joking tone, taking everything you said seriously again.

“(Y/N)..., n-no, I don't think…” she said somewhat nervously, with a fake laugh.

“I'm just saying it's unfair,” you said, rolling your eyes again at her innocence.

“Yes, but don't worry, tesoro, I don't care what they think of me,” she said, downplaying it.

“I do care, Donna. They're just stupid rumors,” you protested, crossing your arms.

“Not everything is rumors,” the lady whispered, looking away, embarrassed. “You know that, (Y/N)”

“W-Well, what does it matter? We've all made mistakes in the past, or killed someone, or… well, not that but…”

Donna shook her head, with a mix of pain and amusement at your stupid way of excusing the Lord for… well, being a Lord.

“(Y/N), vieni,” she said, gesturing for you to get up, a gesture you obeyed, letting her sit you on her lap with an elegant movement. “Amore mio… don't give it any importance, everything is fine.”

You sighed, letting her lips rest on yours slowly, in one of those kisses that melted you completely.

“Yes, Donna, but… it's frustrating, they say those horrible things because they don't know you,” you murmured, playing playfully with her black hair, pouting. “That no one is able to see the wonderful woman you are makes me angry.”

“The only thing I care about is that you think that way, even if you're wrong,” your girlfriend whispered, kissing you again, giving you that tenderness you needed at that moment. “Mm, let's go pick this up, okay? It's been a long day.”

The time finally came for the sheets to warm your body a little. You were exhausted, still recovering from the flu you had a week ago, and with everything that had happened, you just wanted to rest.

Donna was reading beside you as always, stroking your head distractedly while you daydreamed suddenly remembering something important, something you had to try.

“Donna,” you said, getting her attention, making her put the book down and nod for you to talk. “Next week I have to go to have lunch with my parents, my nephews are coming and…”

“Mm, well, I guess I can't do anything to stop you from leaving me alone,” she whispered in a sad tone.

Yes, it had been hard for you to fight her madness, her jealousy, her reluctance to stay alone in that mansion again.

“Yes, well…” you said, scratching the back of your neck, keeping her gaze, something difficult to do due to the spark of jealousy in her eye. “I-I want to ask you a favor.”

“If it's in my hands, I'll do it,” she said in a stoic, confident tone.

“Yes, um…” you stammered, regretting the proposal you were going to make her. “My nephews, Niko and Olga, you know that their family doesn't have much money and…”

“How much do they need?” Donna offered immediately, without thinking.

“No, no, it's not that,” you stammered, juggling in your mind to avoid that awkward moment. “What I mean is that their parents can't buy them many toys and they have to share them.”

“What's the point, tesoro?” the lady asked, impatient with your stammering.

“Well, you make dolls so… I thought that if you don't have much work, you could make them some toys, you know…” you asked uncertainly.

She nodded without hesitation, looking for a notebook on her table, where she used to write down orders.

“Sure, of course,” she said with a smile, opening the notebook. “It's my job. Tell me, what do your nephews like?”

“Niko is a fan of racing cars and Olga… Well, it's not hard to please her, one of those cheesy dolls you make will do, Oh, I mean… one of your fantastic dolls,” you said amused.

“Mm,” Donna murmured, writing things down in the notebook and laughing at your innocent mistake. “Una macchina… va bene. I'll need to ask the Duke for some materials, but it's no problem.”

“See? You're wonderful, my love,” you said, stealing a deep kiss from her while she laughed at your attack of affection.

“I would do anything to see you happy, you know that,” the lady whispered, kissing you again, brushing your hair out of your face.

“I know,” you whispered confused, thinking about what you really wanted to tell her. “Good night, Donna,” you said romantically, kissing her for the last time and turning off the light.

You weren't able to sleep, because your mother's offer was still in your head. Maybe, just maybe, it would be a good idea to try to get Donna to meet your family, although you knew it was a bit complicated.

“Um, Donna…” you said after a few minutes, turning the light back on and making the lady grunt.

“Cosa…?”

“I have to ask you another favor,” you said sitting on the bed, playing with your hands. “I would like you to come with me.”

“Dove?” she asked, rubbing her eye, with a hoarse voice.

“To my house, to my parents' house,” you said cautiously.

 “No,” Donna said dryly, with a suddenly cold expression.

“I was expecting that answer…” you whispered to yourself. “Come on, darling, it could be a perfect occasion to prove they’re wrong, for them to get to know you.”

“I don't want them to know me, I don't need them to know me, (Y/N), no,” she repeated again, crossing her arms with childish arrogance.

“But I do,” you sighed, bringing your hands together. “Donna, please, it would be very important for me.”

“I'm sorry, no,” the brunette insisted, making you growl.

“I thought my parents were stubborn…” you murmured, squeezing your eyes with your fingers. “It's not a trap, I promise, I just want my parents to see how you really are, that you love and care for me.”

“I know I love you, you know I love you. That's enough,” she said, looking away with a sharp gesture.

“Ugh, Donna,” you said, crossing your arms with another groan. “Come on, my nephews are going, I'm sure they'll...”

“Nephews?” a shrill voice burst into the bedroom.

The Angie doll appeared, comically walking and climbing the bed while you both followed her with your eyes.

“Hey, were you spying?” you asked as the doll climbed towards her owner. “You shouldn't listen to other people's conversations.”

“I wasn't spying, silly, silly, you just talk too loud,” Angie said, with her hands on her hips.

“Oh,” you said blinking with a cocky smile. “Since when do you dedicate yourself to listening behind the door? Do you always do it?”

“Unfortunately,” the puppet murmured, letting herself fall between you two. “Let's see, let's see, have I heard anything about some nephews?”

“My nephews, next week I'll eat with my parents and them,” you explained, having no reason to lie to the rebellious and shameless counterpart of the doll maker.

“Oh, oh, are they children?” Angie asked, getting too close to you.

“Yes, they are 7 and 8 years old,” you said amused.

“Oh, interesting...”

You definitely couldn't waste that unique opportunity.

“Do you like children, Angie?” you asked curiously, while the lady stared at her, also annoyed with her unwanted intrusion.

“Of course I like children. They are the only ones who want to play with me, not like you, boring, clingy fools,” the doll said, pointing at you mockingly.

“You would like to play with them, wouldn't you?” you asked in a sweet tone, making the brunette turn her head towards you abruptly, knowing, surely, what you intended.

“Yes, yes, yes,” the doll said, excited.

“It's a shame,” you sighed, pretending sadness. “I've told Donna to come with me, but she doesn't want to.”

“Why? Silly Donna…” Angie said, growling comically at her owner, now harassing her.

-Angie, don't get involved in our affairs –the lady hissed, pushing her away from her body. –I said no, and that's no.

“You say you'd do anything to make me happy…” you said in a low tone, a little sadder, bordering on disappointment. “This would make me very happy.”

“(Y/N), I wouldn't…” Donna said, shaking her head.

“Silly Donna, listen to the other silly, it would make her very happy…” Angie sang, tilting her head in an impossible way.

“I said no! Cazzo!” the lady shrieked, making the doll flee to your lap, scared by the irrational anger of her owner.

“Leave it be Angie,” you said, sad, disappointed. “It's not worth it.”

“You stupid, stubborn spaghetti,” the doll accused, pulling even harder on her patience. “You're going to make the fool cry.”

“All you want is to scare those children,” Donna said, with a stern but somewhat calmer tone.

“No, I want to play, (Y/N) wants you to go with her and you want to make her happy, what's the problem? Are you afraid that people will stop thinking that you are a monster without feelings?” the puppet mocked without fearing the wrath of its owner.

Donna didn't say anything, she just sighed, running a hand through her hair and glancing at you out of the corner of her eye, watching how you curled up in bed, turning your back on her, suppressing a sob.

Your family was important to you, Donna was important to you. You couldn't, you simply couldn't choose between the two things, you couldn't stand it anymore.

“(Y/N), I'm sorry I yelled,” the brunette apologized, putting a hand on your shoulder to turn you around.

“Donna, you know how important my family is to me,” you sighed, wiping a tear that ran down your cheek. “I can't stand the idea of ​​them thinking you're a danger, of them thinking you don't love me, because it's not true. But don't worry, just keep on with your dolls and your stupid isolation, I'll figure out how to continue without your help.”

“Cavolo…” the doll maker growled, crossing her arms and looking at the Angie doll, who looked at her expectantly.

“You made her cry, Donna, you fool,” Angie hissed. “Fix it.”

“I…” the lady murmured, thinking carefully about her words. “Okay, I'll do it. I'll do it for you, (Y/N). I would die without thinking that I wouldn't be able to do anything for you.”

Finally the lady accepted the offer, and you couldn't be happier, but as the date of the meeting approached, nerves mercilessly invaded your entire body. You knew that Donna was nice; you knew that she had sacrificed her comfort zone for you, but you weren't sure if your parents would change their minds. You hoped so.

As expected, your parents' faces paled when they saw the woman with the veil. Your father remained cold, your mother trembled, but you tried to ignore those dangerous signs.

“Well, I guess you already know Donna,” you said nervously, watching the children hide because of that imposing presence. “Look, honey, this is my mother, Svetlana,” you said, guiding the brunette towards the frightened woman, who bowed her head in respect.

“It's an honor, Lady Beneviento,” she said in a helpful tone, without looking at the lady, who nodded slowly, without showing any emotion.

“Um, and this... this is Marcus, my father,” you said a little more nervously, pointing at your father, who looked at Donna with distrust, giving her a reluctant greeting.

“Grandma, what is that?” Niko, your nephew asked tugging at your mother's dress and pointing shamelessly at Angie, who pointed at herself.

“That? That?” the doll asked, breaking free from her owner's grip. “I'm not that, my little friend, I'm the fabulous, the unique, the fantastic Angie.”

Both children backed away as the doll approached.

“Hey, leave them alone,” your father said, protecting your nephews, making clumsy gestures towards Angie.

“No, no, it's not okay, she won't hurt them,” you said, grabbing your father's arm, who growled as he watched the doll chase your nephews.

“Oh, you little cowards…” Angie crooned. “Very well, then I won't show you my magic tricks.”

“Magic?” your niece asked, peeking timidly.

“Yes, magic,” the doll said, nodding proudly. “Tell me, have you ever seen a doll that does this?” she shouted amused, twisting her head comically, instantly gaining the attention of the children.

“Wow…” they sighed at the same time, dazzled by Angie's charisma.

“What else can you do?” Niko asked, shyly approaching the doll.

“Mm, I'm the world champion of hide and seek, you scumbags,” the doll commented, before your attentive gaze.

“That's a lie, I'm better,” Olga said, protesting amused.

“Dear…we'll have to prove it…”

Surprisingly, the children didn't take long to gain confidence with Angie, and with Donna, as she timidly handed them the gifts she had made. Of course, that woman in black, veiled and silent, scared them, but they soon lost fear when they saw their new toys, jumping for joy and thanking your girlfriend effusively.

Your parents barely spoke. They limited themselves to watching your nephews when they dared to approach Donna to give her a tender hug for their gifts. The children were wonderful, they were immune to rumors. They soon felt totally comfortable with the presence of that mysterious woman.

“What is this?” your father asked, sitting at the table while the children had fun with the doll and their new toys.

“It's lasagna, dad, Donna made it,” you said, serving him a portion of the dish that the lady had prepared.

“Lasagna,” your mother murmured, observing the plate with curiosity.

You nodded, glancing at the lady in black, who, to no one's surprise, didn't say a single word, just nodded slightly, remaining silent, which increased the tension of the meal even more.

“Mm, how do I know it's not poisoned?” your father asked, dipping his cutlery into the plate, distrustful.

“Dad,” you protested at his rudeness. “You just... eat and shut up.”

“Marcus, please...” your mother said, trying to save the situation.

It was a silent, tense, heavy lunch. The glances flew like constant knives between you.

“It's delicious, Lady Beneviento,” your mother said with a fake smile, making the lady look at her and nod reluctantly. “It looks like complicated to make.”

“Oh, not at all,” you said with a smile. “Donna is an excellent cook,” you commented. “Isn't that right, darling?”

The lady didn't move, she continued eating in silence, moving her veil a bit aside.

“Does she never take that thing off?” your father asked in an unpleasant tone, finishing his meal, which he seemed to have liked. “Hey, I'm talking to you.”

“Marcus, please,” your mother said, terribly scared by the way her husband addressed the Lord. “Show some respect.”

“Respect? Svetlana, that woman has taken our daughter,” your father growled, hitting the table with his fist, drawing the attention of everyone present. “You may be very powerful, Beneviento, but you're in my territory now.”

“Dad,” you said, scared by his attitude as the lady in black slowly raised her gaze, dropping her cutlery. “Don't talk to her like that.”

“Don't talk to her like that?” the man said, pointing at the lady with a fork. “What's wrong with you? Can't you talk?”

“Leave her alone,” you insisted, terribly nervous. “She doesn't talk to strangers.”

“Oh, um... the tomato sauce is homemade, right?” your mother asked, trying by all means to divert the conversation.

Donna looked at her and nodded slowly, but unable to suppress the trembling of her hands.

“You like my daughter, you like her body, how beautiful she is...” your father murmured, crossing his arms, with a look of absolute contempt. “You the Lords think you can do whatever you want why anyone, don't you? Even with an innocent girl.”

“Dad!” you shouted on the verge of a heart attack, and tears.

“Enough, Marcus,” your mother demanded, also hitting the table. “Lady Beneviento, I beg your forgiveness for my husband's attitude, it's just that…”

“Excuse me? She should be asking me for forgiveness. He sleeps with our daughter, Svetlana,” your father said, dragging his words. “What do you think will happen when she gets tired of her?”

“Can't you stop acting like an orangutan?” you said nervously. “She hasn't done anything for you to treat her like that.”

“She hasn't done anything,” your father said, with a mocking smile. “Come on, Beneviento, defend yourself, tell me I'm lying, say something, damn it, do you even know how to talk? Or do you only know how to screw up the life of a girl like (Y/N)?”

Donna reacted, abruptly getting up from the table, looking at your father, without saying anything, but clenching her fists, repressing her rage.

“No, no, no, Donna, honey, calm down,” you said nervously, grabbing the brunette by the shoulders. “Shh, calm down…”

“Stop it!” your mother shouted, standing up too. “Marcus, apologize! You're being unfair to her. We don't know what can happen to us if…”

“Mom!” you shrieked, not accepting the cautious attitude of the woman, who seemed to fear her, she was terribly afraid of Donna. “I'm starting to realize that it was a mistake to come here,” you hissed, throwing the napkin on the table and shaking your head.

“That woman is the mistake,” your father growled, making Donna turn around again, with a furious gasp.

“Let's go, Donna,” you said, taking the brunette by the arm and walking towards the exit.

“Hey! Are we leaving?” Angie protested, still playing with the children. “I want to stay a little longer.”

“Vai, Angie!” Donna squealed making the children back off with the first words the lady said.

The doll said goodbye to the children happily and walked next to you.

“Wait, (Y/N), you should stay,” Donna said, already outside the house.

“No, I'm not going to stay after what they did to you,” you said frowning. “Donna, I'm so sorry…”

“I'm used to this, tesoro… don't worry about me, stay with your family, I need to go home, I have to… relax…” the lady said, lifting your chin, giving you a quick kiss through her veil, walking away without letting you protest any further.

“Donna…” you said with a sob, letting your shoulders fall as your girlfriend walked away from you with a quick step. “Shit, shit…”

You stormed back into your house, slamming the door shut, scaring the kids even more.

“Are you happy?” you asked nervously, on the verge of tears. “Look what you’ve achieved!”

“That crazy bitch has left my house, I’m satisfied,” your father said in a cocky tone. “It’s over, (Y/N), she’s never coming back to that house again, do you hear me?”

“You haven’t even given her a chance!” you shouted, ignoring those banal threats. “You’re… Ugh!”

“Please, calm down, both of you,” your mother said, standing between the two of you before the shouting could escalate. “Marcus, you should be ashamed.”

“I don’t regret anything, Svetlana, I won’t tolerate that disgusting monster continuing to grope my daughter,” your father said, approaching threateningly.

“You’re a disgusting monster,” you muttered in childish rage.

“For Gods’ sake, that's enough,” your mother pleaded. “Please, let's talk things over, Marcus.”

“Leave me alone,” your father said, walking out the door, angry and furious.

You, silent, stunned just like your nephews, let yourself be seated on a chair, putting a hand on your forehead.

“Damn it...” you whispered, being comforted by the two children, who sat next to you and rubbed your back.

“I like her, I like your girlfriend, Aunt (Y/N),” Olga said, touching her new doll. “Grandpa has been mean to her.”

“Yes, Angie is great too, she hasn't tired of playing with us,” her brother said, excited about his racing car. “Do you think we can play with her again?”

“I don't know, Niko,” you sighed, letting yourself be carried away by the innocence of children, crying subtly.

“Children, go to your room,” your mother said with a serious gesture, pointing to a door.

The children nodded and obeyed with a sad look.

“I can't believe it, mom,” you whispered after a few seconds of silence.  “Was it so hard for you to behave like normal people for once?”

“Honey...” your mother sighed, coming a little closer. “You have to understand that for us it is a very complicated situation.”

“Complicated? Dad has been insulting Donna all the time for no reason,” you said angrily, arching your eyebrows. “And you did nothing but grovel before her because she terrifies you. If your plan is to ruin our relationship, you are on the right track.”

“(Y/N)…” your mother sighed. “We care about you.”

“Cut the crap, mom, you haven't even given her the chance to prove that she is nice, that she takes care of me and…” you said, suddenly feeling terrible dizziness and intense chills.

“Are you okay?” your mother asked, scared by your immediate paleness. “Honey, what's wrong?”

“I-I don't know… I…” you said with a sudden tiredness, a terrible one along with a stabbing pain in your joints. “I…”

You couldn't say anything else, because everything went black.

“Stop talking nonsense, Marcus,” you heard your mother say when you were able to open your eyes.

Your whole body was weak, burning, you could barely move. You were tucked into your old bed and your father, nervous, paced from one side of the house to the other.

“I'm telling you that it's all that monster's fault, she must have poisoned her,” the man said, nervous, furious.

The darkness that could be seen through the window told you that it was already night, you don't know how long you had been unconscious.

“Mom…” you whispered with a weak voice, putting an end to those horrible insinuations. “What…? What happened to me?”

“Oh, (Y/N), you're awake,” she said, taking your burning hand. “Gosh, you have a high fever, you fainted.”

“Damn it…” you complained, realizing that Donna was right, you still hadn't recovered from the flu. “I-I have to…”

Before you could continue, the door sounded with a thunderous bang, causing your father to be on alert, grabbing a nearby shotgun.

“Marcus, what's wrong?” your mother asked, also scared.

“Stay here,” he said, approaching the door and taking a quick look. “You… Go away!”

“D-Donna…” you murmured when you saw the lady in black behind the door, making an impulse to move, which your mother stopped. “Donna…”

“Didn't you hear me? We don't want you here. Get out or... or...!” your father shrieked, closing the door in her face.

“Dad... no,” you complained, reaching out your hand towards the open door of your room. “Donna...”

With a kick that could be comical, the lady in black didn’t accept the answer, opening the door abruptly, making your father step back and point the shotgun at her.

“D-Don't move...” the man said, trembling as Donna approached, grabbing the barrel of the gun and bending it without difficulty. “No, don't hurt me,” he said cowardly afterwards.

The lady ignored him, looking for something with her eye, looking for you. When she found, she didn't waste a second in running to your side, almost throwing herself onto the bed.

“(Y/N), tesoro,” she gasped nervously as your mother cautiously moved away. “Amore mio, what's happening? You didn't come home and…”

“She has a high fever,” your mother said dryly while your girlfriend checked it, caressing your forehead. “She has fainted.”

“What?” Donna asked. “Oddio… you're burning up…” she whispered.

“Wow, you sure know how to talk,” your father said, crossing his arms behind the door frame. “What have you done to my daughter, you psychopath?”

“Dad…” you moaned desperately at Marcus's inflexible attitude.

“We don't know what to do, my lady, the doctor is not in the village and we don't have money for…” your mother said, clasping her hands, with a look, not of terror, but of pity, of fear that something would happen to you.

“Telefono” the lady hissed, glancing at your mother through that dark veil.

Your mother shook her head, unable to understand her words, nervous, and now, frightened.

“Telefono! Porca puttana! A telephone!” the Lord demanded, causing the woman to instinctively protect herself, nodding and pointing to the required device.

Donna stepped aside, hitting your mother on the shoulder as she walked, dialing a number, the only possible one, the Duke’s.

Soon the merchant arrived with the medicines, but they would take a while to take effect. Your longed-for return home would have to wait a bit, but luckily, Donna and your mother took care of you in the meantime.

Tiredness made you fall asleep, with your hand held by the lady in black, who didn’t move from your side while she caressed you. At one point you woke up, but you decided not to open your eyes, you were very tired, weak.

“Excuse me, my lady,” your mother's voice interrupted that quiet moment, along with her footsteps on the old wood. “It's a very cold night, you could use some tea.”

“Grazie,” Donna whispered, nodding gratefully, or so you saw with your half-open eyes.

“(Y/N) sister's room is free, the children are gone... if you want you can rest,” the woman said, lowering her head and passing a hand over your forehead.

“No,” the lady said, coldly, turning her head back to you.

Your mother nodded, sitting down in another chair and letting a tense atmosphere of silence cover you completely. Your eyes danced with the temptation to close completely again, but you were alert, you had to be.

“(Y/N) is right, you are a woman of few words,” your mother said after a few minutes that seemed eternal.

Donna turned slowly to look at her, but only briefly.

“I-I don't mean it's a bad thing, it's wise to be cautious with words,” she said again in the absence of a verbal response from the hierarch, who sighed annoyed by the situation. “I-I've prepared some hot soup for when (Y/N) recovers, perhaps you would like some.”

“No,” Donna repeated, with a dark hiss, almost begging for your mother to leave you alone.

Your mother lowered her head, nodding slowly, obeying in a submissive way.

“My lady, I beg your pardon for our behavior. My husband and I are very sorry,” Svetlana said, forcing you to stop pretending and intervene.

“Come on,” you said, groaning and opening your eyes, hurt, but completely conscious.

“(Y/N)…” Donna sighed, caressing your cheek. “Don't get up, per favore,” she whispered to you in a tender voice, laying you back down on the bed.

“Mom, who are you trying to fool? Dad has pointed a damn shotgun at my girlfriend,” you protested, fighting against the lady's attempts to cover you well with the sheets.

“Shh, taci, amore mio,” Donna said in a sweet voice, not caring that a villager like your mother heard her. “It doesn't matter. The only thing that matters to me is that you recover so we can go home.”

“Home…” you gasped, giving in and letting her take care of you in bed. “For a moment I thought I had dreamed it all, that you weren't here.”

“Of course I'm here, tesoro,” your girlfriend said, getting a little closer while you reached out your hand clumsily, brushing the veil.

“I ​​hate seeing you with that on,” you commented amused, making a shy laugh come out of her black veil as well.

“Shh, don't talk, (Y/N),” Donna whispered, caressing your cheek and checking that your clumsy caresses hadn't uncovered her face. “You've already taken the medicine, now you have to rest so that the fever goes down completely.”

“Mm…” you murmured, glancing sideways at your mother. “Mom…”

“Hi honey… I'm here,” the woman said, bringing her hand closer to yours. “Thank Gods you feel better…”

“Your mother has prepared a soup for you, I think you should have some,” Donna said, with an irresistible voice that would melt any metal.

“My lady, would you be so kind as to take care of…?” your mother asked with a trembling voice, bringing the plate closer to the lady in black, who took it without hesitation, nodding. “I better… leave you two alone…” she said after, making a ridiculous bow and leaving the room.

“Are you comfortable?” Donna asked, helping you to sit up and bringing you a spoonful. “It smells very good.”

“My mother cooks well, although not as well as you,” you joked a little, letting the soup soothe your throat. “I'm convinced that she's dying to ask you for the lasagna recipe.”

“Mm,” she murmured, helping you to eat. “She's dying for me to disappear from your life, (Y/N).”

“Donna…” you sighed with a sad voice. “You don't know how sorry I am.”

“I've already told you that it doesn't matter,” she answered, cleaning you lovingly with a napkin. “The prejudices in this village are strong, it's not their fault.”

“No, my love,” you corrected, with tears in your eyes. “I'm so sorry I asked you to come. I should have known it was a bad idea.”

“Don't apologize. I know how important your family is to you. It hurts me to say it, but Angie was right. Just because it was a mistake doesn't mean it wasn't the right thing to do, (Y/N)” she said, while continuing to take care of you.

“You always do the right thing, don't you?” she asked, letting you fall back onto the mattress, pleasantly warmed by that soup. “Donna, it makes me so helpless that people don't know what you're really like…”

“I'm not a good person, (Y/N), I've done horrible things, I've killed, I've spread terror with my siblings. I don't deserve for you to try to make others see me the same way you do,” Donna said, settling you down again.

“But it's just that…” you sighed, taking her hand, squeezing it with all the strength you had. “I see you, Donna, and I see you are not that horrible person you think you are. I see you as you really are, your way of loving… I see the person you want to be, what you are when you are with me and…”

“You left (Y/N) alone, with her!” your father's screams interrupted that romantic moment, bouncing off the walls.

“Marcus, please! You've caused enough trouble!” your mother shouted, making you both look at each other in silence, listening. “Do you know how much that medicine cost? We could never have afforded it.”

“Svetlana, I can't believe you're so impressed with a Lord’s money,” Marcus growled. “She wants the girl alive, she needs her alive…”

“Stop talking nonsense and behave like what you are!” your mother responded, catching your attention even more. “You're her father, Marcus. Her happiness is what should matter to you, not nonsense about monstrous Lords.”

“She's a monster!” he shrieked, making Donna move, squeezing your hand as she trembled from the pain of those words. “She's…!”

“Sometimes you are unbearable, Marcus, she is your daughter's girlfriend, and you better go in there and apologize to Lady Beneviento, and thank her for taking care of your daughter like we were never able to do,” your mother demanded, making you smile.

“But...”

“Do it! Or we will lose our daughter forever. Open your eyes, dear. You have seen that this woman is not as the rumors say. Fix things, Marcus, or your daughter won’t be the only thing you lose tonight,” your mother threatened, leaving behind her words an uncomfortable halo of silence.

Donna lowered her gaze, shaking her head softly at hearing those insults, those words that were only based on opinions, unfounded or not, about a completely different woman, about a Donna Beneviento who didn’t know what love was.

A few seconds later, the door opened and your father entered the room, head down, scratching the back of his neck. Donna, startled, stood up from her chair, ready to fight your father's ignorance again.

“Lady Beneviento,” your father whispered, glancing at you out of the corner of his eye, relieved to see you awake. “I have one question, just one, and I demand…I want you to answer me.”

The lady nodded slowly, keeping her composure.

“Do you love my daughter? Do you really love (Y/N)? Will you take care of her?” the man asked, to which you rolled your eyes.

“Hey, that's a lot of questions,” you interrupted.

“(Y/N)…” your mother sighed, gesturing for you to remain silent.

“I do,” Donna answered, dryly, but self-assured.

Your father sighed, glancing at your mother out of the corner of his eye and taking a breath, slowly extending his hand towards the brunette, with a look of distrust.

“(Y/N) loves you, and it seems that you have managed to convince my wife, but be clear about one thing, Beneviento, it will take me a while to trust you. But I may change my mind if you give me, right now, your word,” your father said, challenging Donna with his gaze, who was surely doing the same.

The brunette didn’t hesitate and extended her hand towards his, shaking it silently, slowly moving it away and maintaining that defiant look that you knew wasn’t threatening at all.

“Good,” he said, nodding satisfied. “I hope your status as a Lord will serve to keep my girl away from all the evils of this village. My home is your home, my lady.”

“Dad, you are great,” you said amused. “Hey, Donna, he did the best he could, really.”

The lady looked at you and nodded, sitting back down in her chair and taking your hand. You breathed easily for the first time.

You knew it was a temporary truce, but Donna would know how to handle it, how to convince your father, without needing any words, that she was the best thing that could happen to you, that she deserved you. Besides, your nephews seemed to take a liking to her, to her and to Angie, as your mother did.

Ahead of you, there was a promising future.

“Tomorrow morning we will return home, okay, my love?”  you whispered, proud of Donna’s composure, of her integrity, of not being able to hurt anyone, your family, even if they thought she was a monster.

“Well, everything is settled,” your mother said, with the same relieved smile. “My lady, if you don't mind, I would like to ask you a few questions about that… lasagna…”

[the-froschamethyst4]

Time Of Death: Dawn

𖤐Pairing: Vampire! Alex x Werewolf! F! Reader

𖤐Pronouns: She/Her

𖤐Warnings: Smut, fluff, language, fake marriage, kissing/making out, eating out, P in V, enemies to lovers, Victorian Era, sexism,

𖤐Summary: Vampire Alex Keller and his so-called wife Y/n L/n-Keller had to be perfect but they're not. Alex is the future of Vampires and Y/n was the future for her wolf kind, but this so-called marriage was to keep the peace between both worlds of Vampires and Werewolves.

————

————

The sun peaked through the curtains leaking into the bedroom shared between Alex and his wife Y/n. Y/n every night when going to bed would open the curtains just slightly for the sun to come in to let the sun try to burn Alex.

But before the sun could reach him. Alex would use his powers to shut them.

"Asshole," Y/n says, whipping her head around to look at her husband who was just bring his hand down.

"Coming from the woman who tries to kill me every morning."

"Not like you do the same," she says, kicking the covers off her body and grabs a shirt off the floor and puts it on. Y/n slept naked because she gets hot at night, while Alex sleeps pajama pants and a shirt.

The two had a agreement to do a fake wedding, mainly to keep the peace between Vampires and Werewolves, they were both the future them all, Alex going to be King of Vampires and Y/n going to be an Alpha. But they could not stand one another.

In public people saw them as two lovely couple who didn't let their differences stop them, but behind close doors, they hated one another, trying to kill one another.

Why kill each other, because when one dies the other gets their fortune.

Y/n stood on the balcony looking down at the people, Alex hissed when seeing the light seep in just a little bit.

"Close the door, you damn woman."

"Make me," she says, not even looking at him instead at the boy passing flowers out to couples on the street. She leans on her hand as she watches him pass them out, she loved seeing him, he was always so kind, gentle, and soft spoken, something about him that Alex wasn't.

"Him again?" Alex came out with his cloak over his head. "You know damn well if they see an affair going around-"

"They'll hang me, I know, drive a sliver nail through my heart, I get it, I can still dream, can't I?"

"No, you cannot, you are married to me-"

"Fake married, mind you," she says. She walks away from him. "I'm going to the market...care to come?" She felt like she was going to regret that answer.

"I would," he says with a smirk.

They both get ready dressed in their usual attire to match everyone else. They walked arms linked trying to look like a 'normal' couple. Y/n carried a small lace parasol over her shoulder, and Alex made sure his top hat covered his face.

"You could have stayed home," Y/n mumbles.

"And what let you have your way with the flower boy?"

"I would never, who do you think I am?" She teased.

"You are a woman, that I don't trust," his hand gripped her wrist.

"Mr. and Mrs. Keller what a lovely surprise," they stopped and looked at the person coming towards them.

"Mr. Wilson, how long has it been?" Alex jokes.

"Only a few days," Mr. Wilson laughs with Alex. Mr. Wilson didn't really like Y/n, refuse to speak to her, acknowledge her, or even look at her to even ask how she was doing. He acknowledged Alex like they've been best friends for years.

They haven't. Alex just can't stand the man, but doesn't know how to to tell Mr. Wilson to leave them alone.

"I'll be at the bread vendor," Y/n says, looking up at Alex dismissing herself from the men's conversation.

"Didn't think she'd ever leave," Mr. Wilson says, hiking up his pants.

"Easy there, Mr. Wilson. That's my wife remember that," Alex warns.

"Ah yes I know, but I wanted to talk to you. I'm opening up a brothel and I was wondering if you'd like to come, drink, hang out, get the good ol' whistle wet. I know you and that...whore probably don't do it often, I mean if she was my wife, I'd never be home, I'd be out," he chuckles, but Alex didn't, Alex wanted to get away from this creep.

"Haha," Alex sarcastically laughs. "With respect, my wife and I do quite often, and I would like it if you don't EVER call my dick a whistle ever again-also...do leave my wife and I alone," Alex walks away from the fat man.

He sees Y/n looking at the bread and paying the vendor some money for the loaf she picked up, she turns to see Alex waiting for her, she walks to him looking down and linked her arm with his.

"I heard everything you know."

"I figured, you and those ears," he says, he moves a piece of her hair behind her ears. She slightly winched and pushed his hand away. Almost letting him know 'don't touch me.'

"You could've gone-"

"What did I say about them catching us have an affair?"

"Only me, they don't care what you do, you're a man, I'm a woman, people care more what I do versus you."

"Yeah but if they find out what we are, they'll kill both of us no matter what," he says.

"I need some fruit, I'll be back," she says, walking away. Alex stood back letting her shop, but he went to the boy passing out flowers.

"Good day, sir, care for some flowers?"

"Do you have orchids?" Alex asks.

"Orchids?" He looks around. "Ah! I do, my last one," he says, handing them to Alex.

"How much?"

"5 pens," Alex gave the boy the money and heads back to find Y/n she was also paying, once she turned to see Alex with the flowers in his hands.

"Orchids?" She smiles, while taking them from him and smelling them, Alex took the basket she carried and let her carry the flowers, showing them off to the other women.

"Your favorite," he says.

"Thanks...but why?"

"You seem down today...I don't know why, but...I want you to be happy today," he says.

"What's the catch?"

"No catch," he says. "Just you."

"What's your game, Alex Keller?" She warns taking her arm out of his.

"No game..." She still looked at him confused. "You just haven't received flowers from me in such a long time, so I figured I'd give you some," he says.

She stares at the flowers and hides her smile from Alex, they walked back to their shared mansion, she walks to the kitchen and pulled out a vase, filling it with water and sticking the orchids into the water.

She then places the vase into the window above the sink, that's where the most sunlight comes from, so it only fitted to place it there.

She walks up to her bedroom where she saw Alex remove his clothes. He sits on his side of the bed and looks at the sun peeking through the curtains. He then feels eyes on him and looks at Y/n who was removing her dress.

"I need a bath..." she stops in front of the bathroom door. "...C-Care to join?" She asks, looking at him over her shoulder.

"You want me to join you in the bath?" He asks.

"Sure-but you don't have to-"

"I'll join," he says.

-------------------

Alex had watched Y/n as she washed her body, he watched as her skin had water dripping off her body. She looks like a Goddess. Alex looks at her bare back as she stood up, some scars on her back some freckles here and there, he stood up behind her moving behind her and kissing her neck.

"Alex!" She squeals. She tries to push off him but his arms wrapped around her waist to hold her against his body. "Hey, s-stop," she says.

"Y/n...please," he stops and looks up at her, his face was a bit red and he was slightly giving her a pouty face.

She turns to him and kisses his forehead, Alex stood up while also picking her up, her legs wrap around his waist, while she still placed kisses on his forehead and then his lips. Alex steps out of the bath and sets her on the counter and kissed her neck and then her chest.

Y/n let's out a soft moan, as Alex's kisses started to trail down, going from her chest down to her stomach and then just above her pelvis. He slightly pushes her legs open getting a small glimpse of her wet pussy.

He smirks while he was on his knees kissing her inner thighs. It was a while since her and Alex have done it, Alex would be busy and Y/n would be out or handling business within her community. This is the only time were they both can be with each other.

"Take it slow." She says.

"Of course," he says, licking his lips and kissing her wet clit, his tongue going between her wet folds, the sound of sucking and wet noises filled the bathroom.

He started eating her like she was his last meal, Y/n then squeezed her thighs around his head, he groans as he loved the feeling of her plush thighs around his head. He looks up at her seeing her leaning back on her elbows.

"F-Fuck," she moans, her hand going to his hair, slightly pulling and pushing him to make his tongue go deeper inside of her.

"You taste so sweet," he mumbles against her folds. Alex then stood up between her legs, aligning himself up at her entrance. "I'll be gentle," he says, close to her ear and kissing her shell of her ear.

Alex starts moving slowly, slowly grinding as well, her legs were resting on his waist, and her palms resting on the sink counter, her head back as she looks down at her stomach slightly bulging because of his dick.

"Fuck, Alex," she looks up at him, her arms going around his neck and kissed his lips, he starts moving a bit fast.

Alex smirks into the kiss, he picks her up and moves out of the bathroom, he placed her on the edge of the bed, her legs up and rested on both of his shoulders, he starts going a bit fast, balls slapping on her ass.

Her hands go from gripping the sheets to resting on his lower stomach, touching his toned chest and stomach feeling the ripples of his 6-pack under her fingers and palms.

"Ah!" She moans when feeling herself about to cum, she looks up at Alex almost telling him she was close. Alex smirks and chuckles at her.

"Come on, wolfie."

"D-Don't call me t-that," she says with a bit of a growl.

""Awww~ don't like my teasing?" He says, bending down close to her head.

"Don't you k-know not to tease a-a dog?"

"A dog?"

"Shut it," she says as he chuckles at her again.

Y/n puts her head back as Alex gave her one last thrust before she ends up coming on his dick. He pulls out and watched as cum leak from her lower half, he chuckles and bends down to use his fingers to kind of shove it back into her.

"AH Alex! W-What are you d-doing?" She asks.

"I don't want anything spilling from you," he says, now just placing his fingers inside of her.

She looked embarrassed, grabbing a pillow and hiding her red face behind it. Alex smirks and loved seeing her embarrassed.

-------------------

Alex sat on his bed, Y/n was next to him asleep, he looks down at her sleeping naked figure, her face buried into her pillow and the blanket just resting on her waist. Alex stood up and walks to the window making sure they were shut. He heads back and pulls Y/n close to his chest, he kissed her forehead and rubbed her waist.

"Alex?"

"Hm?"

"...When we both become King of Vampires and Alpha of Werewolves...will we have to leave each other?"

"I don't know, baby," he says.

"I don't want to leave," she says.

"I know...I-I don't either," Alex said, holding her close, kissing her forehead, and then kissing her lips.

------------

The next morning Y/n woke up first, the room showed no signs of light in the bedroom to hurt Alex, she looks down at Alex, touching his chest and moving her hand down to his stomach, her hand then slowly moves down to the blanket.

"Hey now...what do you think you're doing?" He says.

"Oh nothing," she says with a giggle, she leans down and kissed his lips. The kiss soon became something heavy, his tongue slipped into her mouth, she moans when she was pushed onto her back, her arms wrapped around his neck and his hands touched her soft thighs.

"Fuck, your lips...they taste so...so good, did you put something on?" He asks.

"I put some ChapStick on before I went to bed," she says.

"Taste good," Alex says, hiking her up to sit on his lap. Their bare bodies against each other, Alex was always so cold and Y/n was also so hot but with them two against each other it was a perfect warmth.

"I love your body," he says.

"Perv-"

"For what?" He chuckles. "I'm allowed to say I love your body."

"Shut up," she snuggles closer to his body and they both landed on their shared bed.

They are suppose to hate each other, why are they acting like this? Are they finally loving each other like a husband and wife are suppose to? Y/n looks up at Alex and pushed him on his back.

"What are you doing?" He asked as his hands rested on her ass now.

"Nothing just looking at my husband."

"Husband huh? When's the last time you've ever called me that?"

"Now," she says.

"You're being a tease."

"And you aren't?"

"When did I tease you?"

"Literally last night," she says, crossing her arms.

"Guess wife's are always right." She just chuckles at him and kissed his lips.

[mae-i-scribble]

So I'm not really that into Arcane fandom or anything like that but is anyone else a little worried for how season 2 is progressing thus far? I'm not talking about the apparent Caitlyn vitriol that some people are falling into- god forbid you have complex characters am I right. But watching the first act of season 2 it's all so terribly rushed and not in the same way season 1 had fast pacing but with tight writing to make up for it.

Spoilers for the first 3 episodes ahead but the fact that we barely even get to know the new enforcer characters that come to Zaun annoys me. The most we have is the girl introducing herself to Vi. The other two aren't even named in the show let alone have any sort of personality. For the big shield guy why is he even allowed to be an enforcer???? Sir you were seemingly living on the streets drinking away your problems last I checked with no indication you were or wanted to be an enforcer. The kid that follows Jinx around doesn't even have any sort of lines until episode 3- which would be fine if it was clearly a deliberate choice for her character but considering that the show is trying to juggle so much it just feels like she fell to the wayside.

I'm also very much not a fan of how the 2nd season is structuring its storylines thus far- certain scenes loose their tension because they're so intercut with other scenes happening simultaneously- take the vi and jinx fight for example. Like I get it you wanted to show how them interacting with the run was actively interfering with the fight but the constant cuts back and forth leave a bad taste in my mouth. The structure they use for the various sections with music overplaying them are hit or miss to me- some I love, some I think should have been actual scenes with dialogue.

I'm also really sad to see them seemingly rush over bits of character development we really need to see. Like take Vi- her not wanting to be an enforcer is 200% justifiable and believable, we haven't been shown anything about how the enforcers work that would give Vi a reason to want to join. And then after the attack in episode 1 she silently comes to a decision to join which fine, I can buy her wanting to help now that Zaun is conducting terrorist attacks. But she just agreed to the plan to use the gray against the people of Zaun???? Really???? Vi did??? Shouldn't Vi, someone who is only joining the enforcers out of desperate necessity, be way more critical of any use of force in the undercity? There's even little things like when Caitlyn arrests the henchman I was expecting Vi to stand up for him because almost *everyone* in the undercity is some sort of criminal so that they can survive. But no it just turns into Vi asking them to ditch the side characters we know absolutely nothing about.

Speaking of Vi- for the record the cait/vi kiss in my opinion was stupidly forced in. I would have liked to see their relationship develop this season because in season 1 I could see the beginning of something there. I really loved the moment in the first episode where it's only when seeing Vi that Caitlyn breaks down a little because Vi is someone she can trust to be open with. Great stuff to further develop- oh no they're kissing after no development just to make the immediately following break up more dramatic? Great yay yippee representation -_- Don't get me wrong I would have loved to see it develop into a romance but not in episode 3 with no buildup (1st season does not count as buildup to me for an actual romantic relationship).

This is also somewhat petty but I do hate the fact that Ambessa is revealed to be behind the memorial attack in episode 3- I much would have preferred for that information to be revealed to the audience alongside whatever character discovers it. Revealing it like that is dramatic, sure, but I feel like it ruins the mystery of Ambessa's morality in a way that is not satisfying.

All in all I'm not the happiest with these first 3 episodes but we'll have to see how the other 2 arcs go before making any judgement calls overall.

[wolfiemcwolferson]

"watching a movie or show that they know they're interested in" for piarles ofc :)))

Well.

Part two of this....

It's selfish.

It's completely and totally selfish.

Ferrari lines up a list of people they've vetted and approved and Charles smiles at them and says no to each and every one until they throw their hands up and ask him what he wants - who he wants.

The phone call is probably all of five minutes of Charles talking too fast and Pierre humming any second that Charles is not speaking, but he agrees at the end of it and Charles promises him the money will be good, and then he feels bad about it for a whole ten days.

Because Pierre is proud of the life he clawed out for himself after and he has a lot of pride in his job and it's never been about the money, but Charles knows that it will be nice for Pierre to not worry about things so much...and also it's selfish.

Charles doesn't see him enough - talk to him enough - and maybe it's ridiculous or childish that he is 27 and still fully in love with someone that has no idea and will never love him back, but he thinks he deserves to be a little selfish after last season.

Pierre returns the signed contract and Charles spends the two weeks before their arranged pre-season training camp trying to make everything perfect.

He has so many opinions about the branded Ferrari gear that they send for Pierre, he ends up ordering some himself in the designs and sizes he wants.

Charles gets in an honest to god shouting match with the hotel because they tell him they have no adjoining rooms when Charles knows that's not true, and Joris looks at him so sharply that Charles goes to his room to hide and when he comes back out, Joris has booked them a house.

He triple checks with the rental company that they have all of Pierre's listed foods that he wants to incorporate into Charles' diet and he downloads roughly 280 hours of US American sitcoms because that used to be the way Pierre liked to unwind.

Charles has no idea if he still likes that because the last two years...well, the last two years have been about Charles.

Charles losing the championship, Charles in the bad car, Charles dealing with an injury.

And when Pierre would come to a race, it was about Charles. When Charles would call Pierre, it was about Charles.

That's why it's so selfish. Because this is still about Charles.

He has nothing to offer Pierre except for a little bit of money and paddock passes for all of his brothers at any race they want and 280 hours of various sitcoms that hopefully will be a balm for Pierre after a turbulent flight or a long triple header or Charles being a little shit in the gym because he's tired.

my flight got cancelled, Pierre texts as Charles is googling where he can buy Season 1 of that one show with the lesser Chris from those Marvel movies. I can hop on one to nice tonight instead? get on the jet with you tomorrow? let me know

yes, Charles texts back faster than he ever has, I am just downloading sitcoms for you

Pierre doesn't text back for a long time. For so long that Charles is considering using that silly unsend option in imessage, but finally he responds.

I think I am the one meant to be taking care of you this season? but thank you, cha and then there's a screenshot of his new flight that lands in six hours

Charles is trying to determine if he can go get him - if he can risk going to get him, or maybe Joris, he could work that out, surely. He could work that out.

I am looking forward to watching sitcoms with you on planes

It's not much - it's hardly anything. But, Charles is looking forward to the long season with many planes and a lot of Pierre.