#i need some more love for this game Immediately

[heavyhitterheaux]

Wifey Shiesty (Slight NSFW)

See Me Through You Series

Synopsis: After giving her husband a much needed pep talk, we get Wifey's version of mic'd up during the Bengals vs. Broncos game

Pairing: Husband!Joe Burrow x Wife!Reader

Requested by: @mirrorballgirlie25 and an anon 💕

Series Masterlist

Please Do Not Repost My Content Anywhere

The level of excitement that you had when you woke up around eleven in the morning was unmatched as you sat up against the headboard for confirmation.

One of the few days that you didn't have any morning sickness.

It was evident that Joe was already awake seeing as he wasn't lying next to you and could faintly hear the shower running in the bathroom signaling that he was getting ready to head to Paycor to take on the Denver Broncos.

There was a lot riding on this game, but you had done your usual routine with making his favorite foods and giving him pep talks. Joe's bag that he would be carrying when he left was sitting on the bed and you quickly pulled out your stationary set and wrote a small note to stick in there.

You got this, Shiesty.

I love you,

Wifey

You did this before every game whether it was at home or away and Joe kept every single one and had it organized by season.

You would usually also get up early and go into the bathroom and also write notes for him on the mirror so that way he would also wake up and see them.

When you were finished, you closed his bag and was caught off guard by arms wrapping around you and a kiss being placed on your cheek.

“Good morning Mr. Shiesty.” You told him as you turned around to properly hug him.

“Good morning baby girl. No morning sickness? Did my baby actually get to sleep? I didn't hear you get up at all.”

“I actually slept for once so hopefully I'll have energy for the game.” You replied as he then leaned down to kiss you.

Joe let out a deep sigh and you immediately knew what to do.

“Okay, baby. We got this. I know how important this game is and that we want to make the playoffs, but just get through each quarter and take your time. Either way it goes today, I am so fucking proud of you. This has truly been your best season and you keep silencing the people who hate on you every single time. Like breaking records and breaking some of your own too? You were drafted number one for a reason. Now go out there today and show them why. I love you and as promised I will be in your suite cheering you on.”

The smile that broke out on Joe’s face was huge as he leaned down to kiss you once more in response.

“I just… it’s so much pressure on my shoulders. But at the same time it is what it is.”

“Baby, you’re the quarterback if you didn’t realize it until just now.” You joked with him and he let out a small laugh.

“I hadn’t noticed and I love you too. Thank you for the pep talks that you always give me. It may not seem like a big deal, but it is.”

“Of course, my love. Always going to be in your corner rooting for you.”

“And the same goes for you, it’s just in a different way now.” Joe replied as he glanced down at your leg and saw the surgical scars staring back at him as he lightly ran his fingers over them.

He couldn't think about it for too long since it would make him upset, but every day, he woke up grateful that you were still here able to do life with him. He couldn't have imagined what happened if you weren't. Becoming a widow a few months after you get married was something that was constantly running through his thoughts when you had gotten hurt.

The pain was still evident even if you didn't talk about it much, not wanting to make your husband worry. He did enough of that when he thought he would be planning your funeral.

Being pregnant, the only thing that you were able to take for pain was tylenol and some days that just wasn’t cutting it. But the last thing you were about to do was risk the health of your twins.

“Is it bothering you today?”

“So far, so good.”

“Just remember to bring some medicine with you. Don't want you sitting there in pain.”

“I'll put some in my bag, promise.”

“Good, pack some heat packs too just in case.”

“Oh, and I have a little surprise. Ja’Marr actually came up with it so you can thank him for it.”

“And what’s that?” Joe asked as he was starting to get dressed.

“I’m going to be mic’d up during the game for me and Taylor’s podcast so do your best to not give your wife a panic attack or send her into labor because it is way too early.”

Joe threw his head back in laughter because he knew how you would get during the games.

“I’ll try my best, but no promises. I can’t wait to watch it later.”

“But for now, I'll go make you some food while you get ready.”

“No need, baby. I got up early and ate.” Joe told you and in response you made a face at him.

“Baby doll, your morning sickness has been horrible lately. I wanted you to sleep. I have the ability to make myself something to eat and not burn down the kitchen in the process. Give me credit where credit is due.”

“But I ALWAYS make you food on game days when you play at home and sometimes you have dessert and eat me out before you leave. It's our thing!”

“I know, but you can make us something later when we win and I can eat you out later. That can definitely be arranged.”

“Fine, I'm holding you to that.”

“Good, now give me kisses.” Joe told you as he was now sitting down on the bed and pulled you onto his lap.

You gave him a few kisses before kissing the side of his mouth and laying your head on his shoulder.

“You're lucky you just took a shower and need to get ready because I want to bite you so bad right now.”

“AHT AHT! Baby do not start, as much as I want to, I can't rearrange your guts all day.”

“But you can do it all night.” You replied while smirking as you picked your head up to look at him.

“See? This is why you're pregnant now.”

“Don't blame it on me, you had something to do with it too.” You scolded him as he kissed the tip of your nose.

Suddenly Joe’s phone went off and he turned around to grab it and saw it was Ja'Marr calling and quickly answered.

“Stop swapping spit with my sister and let's go.”

“Damn, good morning to you too uno.” Joe replied as he rolled his eyes.

“And how do you even know what I was doing?” Joe asked and even though he couldn't see him, he knew that he was rolling his eyes.

“Joe, don't piss me off before we even get in the locker room on this nice Saturday. Yall can’t keep your hands to yourself for thirty seconds. I'll be at your front door in 15 minutes. Bye.”

After Joe hung up all he did was toss his phone to the side before kissing you once more.

“See you at 4:30?”

“See you at 4:30.”

—

Arriving at Paycor, security quickly escorted you as well as Erin to Joe's suite where you would meet up with Jim and Robin. Robin had already sent a text letting you know that they had just gotten there and the only thing on your mind was food and watching Joe and your baby brother play.

The entire episode of you being mic'd up would be recorded on your phone and you would upload it after the game was over whether the Bengals walked away with a win or not.

Once you had gotten settled and got everything set up how you wanted it, you set your phone to record.

“Hello my Woman Cave listeners. Wifey Shiesty here and you’re in for a little treat today. As you can see, I'm in my husband's suite at the game with my in-laws, and my best friend Erin and you guys are getting my version of mic'd up! I did tell Joe prior to him leaving the house this morning and I told him to do his best not to give me a panic attack, so let's see how this goes.”

First quarter

“Okay, yall have to do better than this if we want a playoff spot. Because what are we even doing right now?”

–

“Did you really just get sacked twice in a row?! O-line protect my husband, please! It is LITERALLY YOUR JOB.”

–

“Uh oh baby brother is making faces. He's getting annoyed. I am too Bam Bam, I am too.”

–

“WHAT!? The first quarter can't be over already. We have literally done nothing.”

–

Second quarter

“Baby! What are….? I gave you a pep talk this morning and this is NOT how this was supposed to go.”

–

“The babies are hungry again. Erin, can you get me more mozzarella sticks? Cheese has been my main food group since I got pregnant.”

–

“AHHH TOUCHDOWN! YEAH TEE! I guess he didn't want his mom cussing him out again. She really let him have it.”

–

“Okay, we got something going, feeling a little better. Oh, are those buffalo wings? I needed those like 6 hours ago. I don't care about the heartburn that I'm about to have after. The babies are getting some spice today. I have tums in my purse.”

–

Third quarter

“And, we're back. The babies were playing kickball with my bladder. I'm definitely going to drink this lemonade though.”

–

“Ehh, okay we're kicking. Fine, that'll get us ten.”

–

“NO! HE CAUGHT IT! NOW IT'S TIED.”

–

“Okay, we still have time. We got this. Can I have a milkshake delivered to the stadium? I want one. Never mind. Joe will get me one on the way home.”

–

“Erin, did you see Joe’s and Ja'marr's outfits today? Like WHO ARE THESE DIVAS? But I picked out Joey's last night. I wanted to bite him before he left, but he told me no.”

–

Fourth quarter

“Tee again with the touchdown!”

–

“Damn it! It's tied again. I literally told Joe NOT to give me a panic attack or make my water break and it's clear and evident that he in fact did not listen.”

–

“Oh! Is he in!? IS HE IN!? My husband is the shit yall. Get it baby! TOUCHDOWN!”

–

“Wait a minute… is he…? Is he doing the griddy? See that's the black wife effect for you. And of course Ja'Marr co-signed it. He got more rhythm when he married me.”

–

“Okay, clock is winding down. We can do this. Not that much longer to go.”

–

“WHAT THE ACTUAL FUCK!? Oops, babies don't repeat that. It's tied again!”

–

“Overtime it is. I need to pee again and I'm hungry. These children need to chill out with the food requests.”

–

Overtime

“Okay dad got me nachos. I'm okay now, we're back in business. Shoutout to Paycor. Yall have the good cheese.”

–

“I can't watch anymore and need to close my eyes.”

–

“Well that lasted for a total of thirty seconds.”

–

“OH! OKAY HE’S AT THE TWO! TEE'S AT THE TWO! Yall better not fuck this up.”

–

“HE GOT IT!”

–

“I'm happy we won, but I need to sit here for a minute before I go to the tunnel. Bottom line is put some respect on my husband's name. As of now he is literally the only person in the history of the NFL to have 250 pass yards but 3 pass touchdowns in 8 straight games. So unless you can do that, don't talk to me. And, I rest my case. Now it's time for my milkshake and to hug my husband and baby brother.”

When Joe spotted you in the tunnel, he was all smiles and quickly made his way over to you as he leaned down to kiss you.

“Proud of you, babe.” You told him as you reached up to pinch his cheek.

“Your pep talk definitely helped this morning. Just took us a minute to find our rhythm.” Joe replied as he started to play with the ends of your hair, something that he did more often than not.

“Speaking of rhythm, that griddy was too clean. You should have heard me and Erin yelling.” You told him and he couldn't help but to laugh.

“It's the black wife effect. Can't be around you and your family all the time and walk away with nothing.” He casually said as he shrugged and you busted out laughing.

“And just wait until you hear my mic'd up episode.”

“Please tell me you're kept it somewhat appropriate. I never know with you.”

“Well, babe, I didn't say anything about me turning you every way but loose once we leave here if that's what you mean.” You sweetly said while batting your eyelashes at him.

“I… I guess I'll take it then.”

“BIG SIS!” You heard Ja'Marr yell and quickly yelled back at him as he was running towards you.

“LIL BRO!”

Ja'Marr promptly picked you up and hugged you before setting your back down on your feet.

“You see your husband's griddy?” He asked and Joe simply smirked at the both of you.

“He just told me that it's the black wife effect.”

“I have to agree, this man has a grill now, seasons his food, still holding onto the pumpkin pie, but I'll let it slide today. Maybe one day he'll accept that it honestly tastes like sweet potato pie with low self-esteem.” He replied and you couldn't help but laugh.

“Bye Ja'Marr!”

“What!? Did I lie!?”

“No, but I need a milkshake babe. Go do your presser so I can get one on the way home.”

“I need another kiss before I do.” He told you as Ja'Marr made a gagging noise.

“Yall make me sick.”

“Then look away.” Joe told him as he leaned down to kiss you.

“You would think that it's been forty days and forty nights since the two of you saw each other last.”

“And we're ignoring you.”

–

“Fuck! That's it, pretty girl.” Joe whispered in your ear as he had wrapped his arms around you as you continued to ride him.

The ride home honestly felt like torture with you both trying to keep your hands off one another and forget the bedroom. The two of you barely made it through the front door as clothes were thrown off and left in a pile as you were now on the couch riding him.

The two of you learned pretty quickly that ever since you had gotten pregnant and you were now obviously showing since there wasn't just one in there, but two, the most comfortable positions for you were either riding him or laying down on your side and Joe was not complaining in the slightest.

However Joe was then abruptly confused when you had suddenly stopped and proceeded to swing your legs off of him and his protests were quickly heard.

“Babe, I was close. What the hell?” He asked as you had now spread his legs to make room and got down on your knees in front of him.

“Then how about you shut up and stop complaining? I got down here so you could face fuck me, but I will gladly get back up.”

“You're going to regret getting smart with me before the night is over.”

“Mm hmm, sure Burrow.” You responded as you rolled your eyes. You had done that on purpose because the adrenaline from winning the game mixed with him getting annoyed by your smart mouth would lead to him not showing you any mercy and that was exactly what you wanted.

Doing as he was told, Joe moved closer to the end of the couch as you took him in your mouth. Your hair kept ending up getting in the way, and he decided to help you as he put it into a makeshift ponytail which also led to him being able to have a better hold on you as he sped up his pace of him moving in and out of your mouth.

“You're doing such a good job, princess.”

A mix of sweat, tears, and drool was running down your face as he kept hitting the back of your throat. Your jaw was definitely sore, but you weren't quitting any time soon and was determined to see it all the way through until Joe got his release.

Being able to finally come up for air, Joe moved your head all the way back making you lose contact with him when he leaned forward to kiss you before sliding back into your mouth.

“Come on, baby. You gonna make me cum?” Joe asked as he finally released his hold on you.

Once he did, between the use of your mouth along with your hand it was only a matter of time.

You felt the first drop hit the back of your throat and was soon followed by a string of curse words from his mouth as you were trying to swallow the full load.

“You better swallow it. The entire thing.” He told you as he lightly tapped your cheek. It took you a minute but once you did, you also ran your finger along your cheek and chin to get what had dribbled out and sucked on your fingers.

“Good girl.”

Joe then picked you back up to sit in his lap and kissed you before turning to the side and laying down while taking you by your hips to move you up so you would be right above his face.

“I promised to eat you out, didn't I?” Joe asked you as he kissed all along your thighs.

“Yes.”

“Now stay still.”

--

Liked by joeyb_9, thewomancave, taylorrooks, lahjay10_, cincinattibengals, and 867,254 others

wifeyshiesty: the black wife effect lol now put some respect on my baby's name! so proud of you pookie!

My mic'd up episode will be released at midnight!

lahjay10_: I taught him that at the cookout. they grow up so fast. taylorrooks: I can't wait to hear the episode and talk about it! erinthegymnast: when he hit that griddy, me and wifey screamed so loud we're surprised they didn't hear us out on the field joeybfanatic: OMG not wifey being mic'd up lmao I absolutely love her on the woman cave so I'm excited for the unhinged shit that I know she's about to say joeyb_9: she's been unhinged since I met her, but I wouldn't have it any other way lahjay10_: joeyb_9 bruh I warned your ass and you still married her wifeyshiesty: lahjay10_ I know where you live (3 houses down) so get yourself together before I bust through your front door lahjay10_: wifeyshiesty if you can reach the handle to get in joeyb_9: pause, let me grab a snack to watch this go down joeburrowupdates: lmaooo not joe wanting his wife to beat her little brother's ass lahjay10_: she's all talk, she won't do anything joeyb_9: uh ja'marr she just put on her slides and grabbed her keys, I would make a run for it if I were you 👀

[katemoneymartinsgf]

Paige x Sick Reader

a/n: I’ve been sitting on this for a minute, hope you guys like and let me know what you want maybe???

———

*Beep*

The FaceTime call ended, and you let out a soft sigh, staring at the screen where Paige’s smiling face had just disappeared. It was the fourth day of her trip, and she was finally coming back. You tried to act like everything was fine, but your body was telling a different story. You hadn’t felt this run-down in a while, but you didn’t want Paige to worry. Not with the massive game against USC and the weight of the loss to Notre Dame sitting heavy on her. She had enough on her plate without worrying about you.

“I’m fine,” you muttered to yourself as you laid back down, pulling the blanket up tighter. Just a little cold.

The next day, as promised, Paige was finally home . You could barely sleep, your body aching, feverish, and drained. But you couldn’t show her how bad it was—not when she was needed to be focused on the game ahead. You dragged yourself out of bed just as you heard a knock on your dorm door.

“Babe?” Paige’s voice rang out, tired but excited. You opened the door to find her standing there, holding a bouquet of flowers and a bag of Scandinavian Swimmers you always get from Trader Joe’s.

The moment you saw her, the guilt hit you hard. She looked so happy to be back, but you could tell she was physically drained. And yet, there she was, grinning at you like she hadn’t just played one of the most high-pressure games of the season.

“I thought these might cheer you up,” she said, stepping inside and handing you the flowers. “I could tell you weren’t feeling well.”

You forced a smile, but the effort made your head spin. “Thank you, my love. I appreciate it.”

She set the flowers down and immediately reached out to pull you into her arms, but you stepped back before she could get too close.

“I don’t want you to get sick,” you said quickly, your voice a little weaker than you intended. “You know Geno needs you at full health for USC, and I—”

Paige didn’t seem to care. “I don’t care about the game,” she said softly, pulling you back toward her. “I care about you.”

You shook your head, trying to distance yourself just a little more. “I know, but you need to focus on the game. You’ve been working so hard, and I don’t want to be the reason you can’t give it your all. Please don’t worry about me.”

Her brow furrowed, and you saw the hurt flash across her face. “You’re my priority,” she said, her voice thick with sincerity. Your heart immediately tightened. I love this woman so much, you thought to yourself.

“I’ve missed you so much, and all I want right now is to take care of you. I don’t care if I’m tired or if I have a game coming up. You’re here, and that’s all that matters to me.”

“I know, but...” You hesitated, the words not coming easily. “Please, Paige. I’m not trying to push you away. I just—I don’t want to risk you getting sick too. You have enough on your plate right now.”

There was a long pause before Paige sighed, her shoulders drooping slightly in defeat. “Okay. If you say so.”

The moment she pulled away, you regretted it. You could see the hurt in her eyes, the way she clenched her jaw to keep from saying anything.

“I’ll just... go play some Fortnite or something,” she muttered, turning toward the living room without another word.

You stood against the wall for a moment, the weight of what had just happened sinking in. You didn’t mean to hurt her. She just wanted to take care of you, and you had rejected her in the worst way possible. You hadn’t even stopped to think about how stressed and tired she was, and the guilt clawed at you.

After a few minutes, you heard the faint sound of a game starting in the other room. Paige’s voice came through the wall, distracted and low, but there was a sadness you couldn’t ignore.

You hesitated for a moment, then finally dragged yourself to the next room. You stood there for a few seconds, taking a deep breath before you walked slowly into the room. Paige was sitting on the couch, her eyes focused on the screen in front of her, but you could tell there was something more to her—something she was trying to hide.

“Paige?” you said softly, standing in the doorway.

She didn’t look up immediately, but you saw her shoulders tense. “Yeah?” she replied, her voice flat.

“Can you... turn it off for a second?” you asked, your voice gentle but full of regret.

Paige paused, her hand hovering over the controller. Then, she set it down and turned to face you. Her eyes were red-rimmed, and you could tell she’d been trying not to cry.

“You don’t have to pretend everything’s fine,” you whispered, walking over to her. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have pushed you away. I was just trying to protect you, but I hurt you, didn’t I?”

She looked away for a moment, blinking rapidly as she fought back tears. “I just missed you,” she admitted quietly, her voice barely above a whisper. “Four days without you was hell. I didn’t want to be away from you, and when I finally get home, you won’t let me be close? I just wanted to hold you.”

You felt your heart break. She’s hurting and you are all she needs and you pushed her way. It had never been about not wanting to be close—it was about not wanting to risk her health before the biggest games of the season. But she didn’t understand that. She just missed you

“Paige,” you said softly, kneeling in front of her. “I didn’t mean to hurt you. I’ve missed you more than I can say, but I just... I can’t let you risk everything for me. Not when you’ve worked so hard to get here. I want you to be at your best for USC. I don’t want anything to keep you from playing your best on that court.”

She sniffed, wiping her eyes quickly. “l just missed you”

You took her hands gently in yours, looking up at her with soft eyes. You could see the sadness and anxiety clouding her beautiful blue eyes. She was holding herself together, but just barely.

“I love you. I’m sorry,” you whispered.

Paige let out a shaky breath and nodded, her lips curling into a faint, bittersweet smile. “I just want to be with you,” she said quietly, a tear finally slipping down her cheek as he head dropped

“I know, baby. I know,” you replied, pulling her into your arms. You held her tightly, feeling the tension between you both start to melt away.

Physically she was still tense, still trying to keep herself from breaking down. You gently massaged the back of her head, whispering soothing words into her ear.

“Hey, deep breath, love. It’s okay.”

You felt her inhale deeply, and then exhale, sinking into you as her sobs slowly started to fall.

The two of you sat there for a while, the world outside forgotten. When you pulled away, Paige’s eyes were softer, her smile more real, though there was still a touch of sadness lingering in them.

“I’m so sorry for pushing you away, P. I never meant to hurt you. I just want you to be at your best,” you said softly, your voice full of regret.

Paige looked up at you, her grip tightening at your waist. “I’m at my best when I’m with you,” she whispered, her hands pulling you even closer.

Your heart melted. You brushed a stray lock of hair from her forehead, a small smile tugging at your lips. “I’ll never understand what I did to deserve you.”

She leaned in, kissing you softly, and for the first time since she’d been gone, you felt at peace. The weight of the world lifted, and you knew everything would be okay.

[lunarharp]

fwee top 5 things i had fun with this year :-)

[woso-story]

The Weight Of Love And Loss - Last Part

Alexia Putellas x Reader - Part One Two Three Four Five Six Seven Eight

The weeks after your dinner with Alexia passed in a way that felt both impossibly fast and profoundly significant. What started as sporadic meetups soon became a natural part of your routine again. Lunches, dinners, walks with Mylo—each moment you spent together was layered with the quiet, tentative hope of rebuilding something once lost.

But this time, it was different. There were no unspoken words, no lingering shadows of past pain that hung over your interactions. It felt lighter, freer. Both of you had done the work to heal individually, and now, you were finding your way back to each other with a sense of purpose and clarity you hadn’t had before.

---

Lunches were the first tradition to take root.

Alexia would often text you during the day, her messages a mix of playfulness and genuine interest in your day:

“Lunch break soon? There’s a café that does amazing croquetas. My treat?”

“You need a break from the office grind. Let me kidnap you for an hour.”

And each time, you’d meet her at some tucked-away spot she’d discovered. Whether it was a vibrant tapas bar or a quiet courtyard café, the settings always felt intimate, as if the world was just a backdrop to your conversations.

Dinners, on the other hand, carried a weight of their own.

One evening, Alexia had taken you to a small Italian restaurant she’d raved about. The soft glow of candles illuminated her face, and as she leaned across the table to tell you a story about her teammates’ latest antics, you found yourself mesmerized by her all over again.

“You’re not even listening,” she teased, catching you staring.

You blinked, cheeks flushing. “Sorry, you’re just…distracting.”

Her smile in response was enough to make your heart race.

---

Mylo, of course, had become Alexia’s biggest fan.

Every time she showed up at your door, he’d go into a frenzy, barking and wagging his tail so hard it was a wonder he didn’t topple over.

“Okay, okay, I’m here,” Alexia would laugh, crouching to let him jump on her. “Did you miss me, little guy?”

“He likes you more than me,” you’d joke, but deep down, you loved seeing how easily she connected with him.

Your walks often took you through the park, Mylo leading the way as you and Alexia strolled side by side. The conversations ranged from light banter to deeper reflections on life, and with every word, you felt the bond between you grow stronger.

One evening, as the sun dipped below the horizon and painted the sky in hues of orange and pink, Alexia turned to you with a soft smile.

“I missed this,” she admitted. “Just…being with you.”

Your heart swelled at her words, and for the first time, you allowed yourself to fully believe that what you were building with her now could be even better than before.

---

Alexia had invited you to one of her matches and you’d agreed without hesitation.

Seeing her back on the pitch after everything she’d been through was nothing short of inspiring. From the moment she stepped onto the field, she was a force of nature—commanding, confident, and utterly in her element.

You watched her with a mix of admiration and pride, clapping and cheering with every move she made. When the final whistle blew and her team secured a victory, you felt a swell of joy that had nothing to do with the game itself.

After the match, Alexia came to find you in the friends and family section. She spotted you immediately, her face breaking into a wide grin. Without a second thought, she hopped over the barrier, landing gracefully on the other side.

“You were amazing,” you told her as she pulled you into a hug.

Her arms lingered around you a moment longer than necessary. “It means so much to have you here,” she said softly.

Later that night, you joined her and her teammates at a bar to celebrate. Though the lively atmosphere wasn’t usually your scene, Alexia made it worth it. The two of you sat together in a corner booth, laughing and talking as if the rest of the world didn’t exist.

When you told her you wanted to head home, Alexia didn’t hesitate to offer to walk you.

---

It was late by the time you reached your building, the city quiet save for the occasional sound of passing cars.

“Do you want to come in for a drink?” you asked, the words tumbling out before you could second-guess yourself.

Alexia nodded. “I’d like that.”

Inside, Mylo greeted you both with his usual excitement, his tail wagging furiously as Alexia knelt to greet him.

“You’re such a good boy,” she cooed, scratching behind his ears.

You grabbed a bottle of wine and two glasses, and the two of you settled on the couch. The conversation flowed easily, the wine loosening your inhibitions just enough to let the words come freely.

At some point, the distance between you disappeared. Alexia shifted closer, her arm brushing against yours as she turned to face you.

“I’ve missed this,” she said, her voice barely above a whisper. “I’ve missed you.”

You looked into her eyes, and for a moment, time seemed to stand still. Then, she leaned in.

The kiss was soft at first, hesitant, as if she were afraid you might pull away. But you didn’t. Instead, you kissed her back, your hands finding their way to her face as the world around you faded away.

When you finally pulled back, Alexia’s cheeks were flushed, her eyes shining with emotion.

“I still love you,” she admitted, her voice trembling. “I know I messed up before, but I want to fix this. I want us to have another chance.”

Her words hung in the air, raw and vulnerable.

You took a deep breath, your heart pounding. “Lex…” You paused, searching for the right words. “I never stopped loving you.”

Her face lit up with a smile, and before you could say anything else, she pulled you into another kiss.

---

That night marked the start of something new. You and Alexia weren’t just picking up where you left off—you were building something stronger, something rooted in the lessons you’d both learned during your time apart.

She became a constant presence in your life again, not just as a partner but as someone who truly understood you in a way no one else ever had.

And as the weeks turned into months, you found yourself falling even deeper in love with her—proof that sometimes, the best things in life are worth fighting for.

------------------------------------------------------------

The End.

Oh my gosh, I loved writing this story so much. I hope you enjoyed it too.

Happy New Year, everyone!!

[alottiegoingon]

hc! jackie has a crush on you and she doesn't hide it well.

jackie taylor x fem!reader

summary: jackie having a painfully obvious crush on you while you remain completely oblivious.

warnings: characters are aged up, oblivious reader, jackie being possessive, jealous, clingy and over-the-top affectionate, jackie being awkwardly sweet, jackie as the most dramatic lesbian alive, not proofread.

a.n: oh hi! its been a long time...

jackie taylor, the golden girl of wiskayok high, was not known for being subtle. like, at all.

when she developed a crush on you? game over. everyone could tell. the team knew. her parents probably knew. heck, even the cafeteria staff were rooting for her. everyone... except you.

she would insist on walking you to every single class, even if her next one was on the other side of the building. "it's fine, I need the cardio," she’d say, hair bouncing as she kept pace with you.

whenever you sat together at lunch, jackie always had some excuse to sit as close as humanly possible. your thighs would brush, and she’d casually drape an arm behind you on the bench like this was some romcom where she was the suave lead.

her attempts at giving you compliments were both endearing and slightly chaotic. “that shirt looks really good on you! not that it wouldn’t look good off— wait, no, not like that!” cue her face turning an alarming shade of red as she stammered, completely flustered.

jackie was all about grand gestures. she'd bring you your favorite snacks without asking, even if it meant "borrowing" them from her teammates' lockers. r she'd "accidentally" sign you up as her partner for every school project ever. that was probably just her 'marking territory'.

her jealousy was comically bad. if someone so much as looked at you for longer than five seconds, jackie would swoop in like a hawk, throwing an arm around your shoulders and flashing her biggest, most obviously fake smile. "Oh hey, let’s go! you promised to help me with... uh, math homework!” (she had a solid A in math, by the way. that girl is smart.)

sometimes, her crush got the better of her, and she’d trip over her own words. “so... you wanna make out? i mean go out— I mean, hang out? like friends! or more than friends! or—" you’d just laugh it off, assuming she was being her usual goofy self, while she tried not to combust on the spot.

her teammates would not let her hear the end of it. “just tell her already!” van would groan during practice. “she’s not that clueless.” jackie would shoot them a death glare because, in her mind, this was a delicate, slow-burn process. it's all about romance!

she wasn’t above using petnames to test the waters. “hey, sweetheart, pass me that notebook?” she’d grin when you handed it over, your only response being a confused, “uh, sure?” her heart would leap even at that small acknowledgment.

one time, during a party, someone asked if you two were dating. jackie nearly choked on her drink while you laughed and said, “no way, we’re just friends!” jackie’s forced laugh after that? absolutely tragic.

despite all her awkwardness and dramatic flair, jackie genuinely adored you. she’d memorize all your quirks, from the way you scrunched your nose when you were deep in thought to how your laugh sounded when you found something genuinely funny.

if anyone asked her why she liked you so much, she’d have an entire list ready: you were smart, kind, gorgeous, and somehow still completely oblivious to the fact that she was hopelessly in love with you.

spoiler alert: eventually, her feelings would spill out in the most unplanned, dramatic way possible. probably during an argument where she’d blurt out, “because I like you, okay?!” only to immediately cover her mouth in horror.

and even though you’d be stunned into silence for a moment, when you finally smiled and said, “you should’ve just said so sooner,” all her embarrassment would melt away in an instant.

because, honestly? it was all worth it for you.

post planecrash!

after the crash, jackie’s crush intensifies tenfold. with no distractions like school or soccer, all her attention is on you, which becomes very obvious to everyone.

jackie insists on sticking close to you at all times. “we need to stay in pairs, it’s safer that way,” she’d argue, even though it’s clear she just wants to keep you within arm’s reach.

she’d hoard little things she finds that might make your life easier, like an extra blanket or berries she foraged. she’d always frame it like it’s no big deal: “i just thought you’d want this, that’s all.”

jealous jackie? oh, it’s dialed up to 100. if someone else offers to help you with something, jackie will immediately swoop in. “she doesn’t need your help, i’ve got it covered.” even though she could barely lift a bucket of water.

arguments would break out among the group about leadership and survival, but jackie’s main concern? you. she’d constantly check in on you, asking if you’re warm enough, if you’ve eaten, or if you’re scared.

shauna would initially try to protect jackie’s secret, but even she’d get tired of the whole thing. “jackie, just tell her. you’re already risking frostbite just to sit next to her by the fire.”

during the long, cold nights, jackie would find excuses to be near you. “body heat is the best way to stay warm,” she’d say, but the blush on her cheeks would give her away. that damn fag. (affectionate :D)

if you ever got hurt or sick, jackie would lose her mind. she’d hover over you like a worried mother hen, snapping at anyone who wasn’t taking your condition seriously enough. “she needs rest! and better food! and-” you’d have to calm her down before she worked herself into a frenzy.

and even though the wilderness is brutal and unforgiving, in that moment, her confession would feel like the warmest thing in the world.

[fryingpan1234567]

Missed You—Liam Mairi x marked!necromancer!reader

guess who finished Fourth Wing today

sorry this is less actually Liam focused and more bringing-him-back-from-the-dead at first, but you get to be a total badass and you still get to see him later, so like it’s fine

f!reader, we ignore canon and I have no idea how the fortress is built sorry, reader is an absolute badass, this is prolly not gonna be proofread

happy reading!

————————————————————————

You hadn’t seen Liam in five days.

It was the last of the five-day War Games excursion you and your classmates had been subjected to just before your graduation to second year, and you were getting restless. When Violet got moved to Xaden’s little band of… people, Liam of course in tow, it had caused some shifting in other groups as well. You’d gotten dumped in some random wing with people you barely knew, only your dragon and memories to keep you company, the feeling of Liam’s fingers tracing down your face, your neck, your waist, your thighs…

Well, you didn’t particularly want to masturbate while on night watch as your unknowing squad peacefully slept the night away, but—

“Getting needy, are we?” Sif teased in your head, crashing your train of thought. You shifted uncomfortably, wishing to ease the ache between your legs. You stared into the dying fire to distract yourself.

“I am not needy,” you shot back mentally so as to not wake your squadmates. “I just… miss him. Is that a crime?”

“No, but jacking off six feet from your superior officer might be.”

“I hate you. I really, truly do.”

“I could bite you in half.”

“You love me too much—“

Sif slammed her mental barrier down, effectively blocking you out. You huffed a laugh to yourself. You think, despite the constant sass and general need to get in the last word, your orange scorpiontail was probably the best thing that had ever happened to you— aside from Liam, of course. After all, she’d given you power greater than any rider could dream of.

But you had to keep that to yourself.

Necromancy was absolutely unheard of. You knew, because you’d checked— normally you stay far away from the Archives, but you’d gone soon after discovering your signet months ago and checked the records for any mention of magic like yours. Nothing. It was supposed to be the one thing dragons couldn’t give to humans.

And yet here you were, and you couldn’t tell anyone. Certainly not your professors— a marked one with that kind of power? They’d kill you. But even Xaden, Bodhi, any of the others… you didn’t know enough. You thought you could trust them. You were pretty sure. Xaden was your savior, in a way, but he was also mildly unstable if you were being honest. Even Liam’s loyalty to him made it impossible to share your secret.

You sighed. Liam. You’d heard your section leader say something about defending an outpost, but that’s about all you knew about his assignment.

He’s tough. And smart. And with Xaden and Violet. He’s surely fine.

You fell asleep, a pit of unease growing in your chest.

In the morning, everybody flew back to Basgiath, as the game had concluded. You hadn’t seen much action, not that you cared as much about that as you did about seeing Liam again.

In the sea of milling students, you’d normally be able to spot him immediately, his golden hair a head above the rest. You stood on your toes to scan the area, but you didn’t see him.

You did see Xaden, pushing his way towards you through the crowd.

“Xaden!” You gripped his hand in greeting and resisted the urge to look over his shoulder for your boyfriend.

“Hey, y/n.” The way Xaden didn’t smile made yours fade immediately. His tone of voice only ripped the hole that had been growing in your core since the night before bigger, and you had a horrible feeling he didn’t have good news for you. “How were your past few days? Sorry we left you behind.”

Yeah, all the other marked kids had gone with Xaden. Liam included. Who you still did not see anywhere at all.

“It’s— they were fine. Where’s Liam?” you blurted, moving to pull your forearm out of Xaden’s grip.

His fingers tightened, onyx eyes boring into yours. “Y/n… we lost Liam.”

“You—“ Your mind reeled, heart dropping like a stone into your stomach. But not as far as it should’ve. “You what?”

“There was a venin attack on our outpost,” Xaden said quietly so other students wouldn’t hear. You stared up at him with wide, horrified eyes, noting the grief etched into his features. He’d known Liam much longer than you. “Our options were to run or fight. He chose to fight.”

It probably wasn’t the question you should be asking, but it’s the one that came out of your mouth: “You didn’t burn him, right?”

“We—“ Xaden blinked, clearly not expecting that to be your first reaction either. “No, he and Deigh are in the family tomb at the fortress. Why—“

Your nails dug into Xaden’s forearm, a burning urgency building in your throat. You could do something. You could fix this.

“You need to take me to him right now,” you demanded.

Xaden pulled a face. “It’s broad daylight, we just got back, it’s probably not good for you to see your recently deceased boyfriend and his dragon, I could list a thousand reasons why we can’t just fly off again—“

“Xaden,” you begged, then pulled him down to cup a hand to his ear and whisper, “I can bring him back. That’s my signet. But it won’t work if the decaying process starts, so you have to take me to him right fucking now.”

He stiffened, staring down at you in disbelief. You stared back, unwavering.

“You serious?”

“Deadly, Xaden,” you insisted. “Please.”

There was zero hesitation as he dragged you across the room towards the perch where all the dragons still resided. You spotted Sif next to Tairn, because of course she’s always one to push the limits. Her eyes narrowed on you as you approached.

“You told the wingleader,” she hissed in your mind, coiled and angry. Her barbed tail flicked where it rested by her talons, digging into the stone of the wall.

“To save Liam,” you snapped, “of course I did. I can save him—“

“You’ve only revived woodland creatures so far and then passed out for hours at a time,” Sif growled as she allowed you to mount anyways. She flapped her wings, preparing to take off after Sgaeyl.

Your stomach was left on the balcony as the two of you launched into the air, taking after Xaden ahead of you. There were shouts of alarm from below, but you didn’t look back. You had to power through and, most vitally, not get caught by anyone trying to drag you back to the school. Sif, being only marginally smaller than Sgaeyl, was able to keep pace. Your job was to stay on.

“I can do it,” you insisted aloud. Xaden glanced down at you curiously.

“Have you ever brought a human back?” he shouted down to you over the roaring wind.

Your turn to pull a face. “Biggest thing I’ve ever brought back was a mountain lion,” you called back, ignoring the ripple of fury from Sif at yet another spilled secret. Doesn’t matter now. “But I figure because a human is smaller…”

“Will you burn out?” he asked.

Fantastic question. Gods, you hope not. You shouldn’t— the mountain lion in question was much bigger than Liam and you really hadn’t slept for that many days afterwards, so—

“But it will not be just the boy,” Sif grumbled. “He’s still tethered to Deigh, remember? A full size red scorpiontail? You will burn out.”

“Thanks for the vote of confidence,” you bit back. Your legs tightened a fraction around Sif’s shoulders. “I won’t burn out. I… can’t.”

You couldn’t dwell on the notion of not being able to bring Liam and Deigh back. If you did— if you didn’t—

“Easy, human,” Sif hummed, a stark contrast to her earlier tone. Warmth faded through you, compliments to the rippling muscled scales beneath you. “I will do everything I can to aid you. We will… try.”

“Thank you,” you managed back, too tired to speak aloud anymore. Risking a glance upwards at your wingleader, Xaden’s gaze was laser focused on the mountain range miles away you knew marked the border of Navarre’s ward.

You flew for nearly thirteen straight hours.

Normally, with average speeds and ample rest time, the trip would take closer to a full day. But Sif and Sgaeyl were not flying at an average speed. And they didn’t stop once.

It was dark again when you and Xaden stumbled off your dragons on the roof of the Aretia fortress, each of you feeling the weight of your dragons’ exhaustion. But you didn’t fall. No time.

“Come on,” Xaden beckoned, gesturing towards the yawning doorway that led into a dark ramp. You’d never seen this part of the fortress before. To your surprise, Sif was able to follow you down the tunnel.

“Where are we?” you asked, turning your attention away from Sif after she flicked her tongue at you. Xaden’s pace was harder to keep as, unlike your dragons, the two of you were very different in stature. Your legs were significantly shorter than his, and you nearly had to run to keep up with his stride.

He conjured a mage light to float above his head like a ghostly halo, and you did the same. There were no other lights in the corridor.

“Entrance to the crypt,” was all he said. Figures. “Big enough for dragons to carry other dragons, if need be.”

Your heart tugged at the thought of Sgaeyl or maybe Tairn hauling Deigh’s lifeless body down this same tunnel, Xaden carrying Liam’s in tow. You shook the image away. You were gonna need your concentration.

You didn’t speak the rest of the journey down, down into the mountain, farther underground than any other part of the fortress. Eventually the tunnel widened into a positively cavernous room, and you couldn’t suppress your gasp.

It was stunning. From what little light your mage lights could provide, you saw vaulted ceilings painted with murals of battles from even before the rebellion. Massive pillars stood close to the walls, engraved with names going back generations. There was a massive shrine to Malek right in the center of it all.

And scattered around the floor were skeletons. You noticed it was two to a group— a human, and a dragon, the dragon’s curled protectively around the human’s. Of course there were some humans without dragons, accompanied instead by artifacts or offerings left by family. This was generations of Aretians.

And the sloping form of a red dragon that did not rise and fall in turn with its breaths.

“Oh, gods,” you whispered aloud to yourself, breaking into a run as you passed Xaden. You came around Deigh’s head and froze as your gaze met Liam.

He looked… asleep.

No blood. No horrible injuries, like you’d been afraid of. You hadn’t thought to ask many questions about what had happened on the way here, and now was certainly not the time. Liam’s head rested against Deigh’s limp forearm, golden curls falling softly against the scales there. Some remaining blood was smeared across Deigh’s wings and a couple spots on his underbelly, but no gaping wounds on him either. Brennan cleaned him up, if you had to guess.

You fell to your knees at their side. Xaden knelt beside you, and you knew he didn’t want to pressure you, but he was more anxious than you were. You felt Sif’s presence stalk around Deigh’s other end and stop, sitting by his tail as hers flicked over his spinal ridges. They’d been friends. A new wave of grief washed over you.

But grief for what? You were here, weren’t you?

“What do you need?” Xaden asked you softly.

It’s go time now. “Maybe stand back. I’ve been told it gets pretty bright.”

Xaden did as you suggested and backed away, and you scooted closer to Liam and Deigh. Your lips parted in a shaky sigh as your fingers carded through his hair for the first time in nearly a week. His skin was ice cold to the touch. Your other hand found one of Deigh’s talons, and you braced yourself for what was to come.

“Remember to not die,” Sif reminded you, hints of anxiety leeching into her voice. You returned her earlier wave of comfort.

“I can do this,” you promised.

You found the floor of your childhood bedroom. You looked under the bed for Sif’s power, and you brought it out, like you’d slide out a box of old toys to go through in nostalgia.

This was not nostalgia. This was hot, syrupy energy seeping from your heart to your shoulders, down your arms, into your hands, and finally into golden locks and red scales.

You inhaled deeply. You could feel their pain, still residing after however many days it had been since they left this plane of existence. You grabbed onto that pain and tugged it like a loose thread on a sweater, because you knew their souls were on the other end of it.

“Malek, forgive me, for I am about to rob you of not one but two brave warriors’ souls,” you murmur aloud to no one but yourself. The pain gets brighter, more intense. Good. It’s working.

“Okay?” Sif nudges, but you don’t answer. You have to focus. This is going to be more difficult than anything you’ve ever done before.

And you’re going to do it. For Liam.

The pain unfolds deep in your chest, worsening inch by treacherous inch as you forcibly drag two souls back into their bodies. But it’s working, and that’s the only fucking thing that matters.

“Malek, forgive me,” you repeat in a whimper. “I commend you my own soul, my own heart, you may punish me for eternity when I go into the ground, but please, please,” you beg. You feel like you’re melting from the inside out. But you can also feel Liam and Deigh coming closer, and that means you can’t stop or slow down.

“Uh, you okay?” Xaden calls from somewhere behind you. Sif audibly hisses and snaps at him for disturbing your concentration. “What?! Sorry, I— she’s— y/n, you’re glowing. Are you supposed to glow?”

“Yep,” you choke out over your shoulder. “Good, all good. Shut up now, please.”

He did. It took several more minutes, maybe hours, before you had Deigh and Liam’s souls floating just above each of their bodies. You were shaking like a leaf. You could probably pass out from heat exhaustion right now. It was the most pain you’d ever been in. You’d dragged two souls straight out of Malek’s hands and into your own.

Final push. Liam’s whispered name fell from your lips as his soul settled back into his physical body. His chest jolted to life beneath you with new air and a revived heartbeat, as did Deigh’s. You vaguely hoped he wouldn’t roll forwards and crush the two of you.

Liam’s bright blue eyes cracked open. His gaze met yours for half a second, and he smiled, that dimple that you loved so much appearing, and—

And you passed out, falling back into Sif’s outstretched wing.

Those blue eyes were the first thing you saw when yours opened, several hours later.

You were back at Basgiath.

You sat up way too fast, and the world tilted, sliding you right back down onto your pillow. Well, not your pillow— this was not your room, it was Liam’s, judging by the window placement and—

Liam.

Your eyes snapped to his, which crinkled as he smiled at you. You nearly started sobbing right then and there.

Liam! Alive! Smiling at you!

“Morning, sunshine,” he said softly, and that was it for you. You curled into his arms, sobs wracking your sore body as he held you tight to his chest, holding you like he never wanted to let you go again.

“Li— Liam,” you hiccuped, muffled from his blankets. “I— you—“

“I know, baby,” he whispered, pressing a kiss into the crown of your head. “You’re okay. I’m okay, somehow. Breathe for me.”

It took several moments, but you came down from your high, clutching at Liam’s bare shoulder with shaking hands. He kissed your tears away and whispered comforts to you all the while, which was a little bit ridiculous. He’d literally just come back from the dead, and he was comforting you.

You, who’d brought him back. It fucking worked.

“It worked,” you whispered aloud.

Liam laughed at that, his sweet dimple making its appearance again. You couldn’t squash the smile that took over your face at the sight. You resisted the urge to kiss it like you had so many times before.

“It worked, baby,” he agreed. He stared into your eyes with his electrifying blue ones, grin softening into a contented smile. “Xaden told me… as much as he could, I think. Your signet is necromancy, which you neglected to tell any of us.” He poked at your side teasingly, and you twisted away from him with a giggle.

“I’m sorry,” you managed, finding your hand under the covers and laying it on Liam’s forearm, lazily drawing circles there. Fuuuck, you’d missed him.

He pressed a kiss to your temple. “It’s okay; I get why you did it. It’s dangerous for people to know.” He studied your face thoughtfully. “You’re…”

“Too nice to be a necromancer?” you supplied, half joking. You did have a lot of friends for a reason.

“I was gonna say amazing,” he said, “but close enough. Did Sif tell you she and Sgaeyl had to pretty much carry Deigh and I back here, by the way?”

Your jaw dropped. You supposed it made sense— it’s not like Liam or his dragon would be in tip top shape right off the bat after coming back from the dead. But still, the image was frankly hilarious.

You reached out to Sif. “Is that true? Did you actually have to carry Deigh?”

“And your sorry unconscious ass,” she responded immediately. Her words were biting, but her tone was undeniably relieved. “The wingleader took your boy. He seems touch starved, but he also seems like he’d never admit that aloud.”

You suppressed a laugh, clapping a hand to your mouth. If that wasn’t the most Xaden thing you’d ever heard in your life…

“She filling you in on all the glorious details?” Liam raised a perfect eyebrow, clearly amused.

“Sif says Xaden is touch starved but he won’t admit that to anyone,” you relayed.

Liam snorted. “I’ve never been cuddled by that man before in like twenty years of knowing each other except for the past thirteen hours. Maybe don’t tell him I said that.”

You exhaled your laugh, curling back into him. Your ear found his chest, and the steady thrum of his heartbeat nearly made you break down again.

Mental note: sacrifice a very large animal to Malek later today.

What time is it?

You poke your head up over Liam’s shoulder to find the clock he keeps at his bedside. Nearly noon.

“How long was I out for?” you realized, hoping it hadn’t been days like it normally was. After that, you wouldn’t be surprised if you’d passed out for a month.

“The whole time we were there, the whole flight back, and four hours,” Liam recited as if he’d been counting. Knowing him, he probably was. The thought brings a smile to your face. “We had Brennan mend what he could. You’d probably sleep through the month if he hadn’t sped the process up.”

“Read my mind,” you murmured, rubbing your face against his chest like an affectionate cat. He huffed a laugh, carding a hand through your hair.

“You missed me, huh?” he murmured back in the same tone as yours.

Preening dickhead. You figured you’d indulge him, if only because he was definitely right this time.

“Yeah,” you said quietly, simply, and that was it. You could talk about the battle that cost him his life some other time. You could get his and Deigh’s help groveling to Malek later. You could answer all his questions about your power when he felt the need to ask them. But for now, you were great right where you were at: in his arms, in his bed, as it should be. Thinking he was dead 24 hours ago seems distant, a faraway worry.

Alive. Liam Mairi is alive. And he’s all yours.

————————————————————————

see I fixed it! everyone’s happy now

[simplyzeeka]

Episode 4. Season 1

Empty Promises

Does your mind play this game too?

Think 'bout me and you?

I guess I'll just pretend, until it all makes sense

Hmm-mm-hmm, hmm-hmm

Warnings: MDNI!! Profanity, adult themes.

Summary: Lost charms and empty promises bring Syrae and Terry to a conclusion that mends a very heavy problem, which leaves Syrae gripping on hope that does nothing to soothe her worries.

Previously on Something Seasonal

There's nothing Syrae hated more than losing things. She believed she was a careful and responsible person, wouldn't compromise her belongings to where they could get lost. And when she did lose something, it messed up the rest of her day, week he'll even months before it was found.

“Are you sure it ain't in your bag?” resonated Broisa's voice from the other end of the line.

Syrae balanced her phone between her head and shoulder as she filled her entire apartment upside down. “Didn't you just hear me say that it ain't?”

She snapped, dropping the pillow that rested in her clenched hands.

“Okay, calm down, Rae. We gon’ find it.” Broisa assured with a resigned sigh.

It had been days since Syrae lost the small and old charm she always kept with her. Broisa had yet to know the importance the charm held to Syrae, all she knew was that the woman always had it on her, and would flip everything upside down to find it, as she was at that moment.

Syrae could only exhale at the failed attempt of Broisa’s comfort. She plopped herself down on her sofa, resting her head in her hand. She let her fingers thread through her tangled coils, scratching against her scalp, flakes of dandruff collecting under her nails. She needed to wash her hair today.

“Let's talk bout somethin’ else. You coming to work today?” Syrae deflected.

Broisa hummed into the line, the sound of stirring against ceramic filling Syrae’s ears. Syrae concluded that she was making her afternoon tea. Broisa would drink tea in unbearable heat, and Syrae always judged her for that.

“Mhm, sure is. It's gon’ be busy tonight, might get more than a few bands tonight.”

Syrae nodded and hummed at that. It was a special event at the strip club. It was Randy's birthday, the owner of the club and Syrae’s boss.

“Girl yes, I might be able to get the place I been saving up for.”

His birthday bash was always something he threw every year. The club was usually packed because entrance fees were cheaper.

“Amen to that, hopefully I’ma get enough to move out of this shitty place.” Syrae hummed in agreement, her shoulder sagging in anticipation of that thought alone.

She’d been wanting to move out of her shitty apartment for some time now. Stripping only did so much to handle bills, especially with sixty percent of her earnings going to her boss. Getting a decent place was out of the picture.

While her apartment looked homey to the eyes, courtesy to Broisa’s love for decor, the place had many issues the landlord did not care about fixing.

“I been saying you could come stay with me, I got a spare bedroom.”

Syrae immediately shook her head and hummed a soft, yet polite, ‘no’. As much as Broisa’s place looked good, and the facilities were much better, Syrae always liked being in her own space. She had a routine for many things and living was someone completely foreign to her space would only compromise that. That, and the fact that she had more than a little sprinkle of pride that wouldn't allow for her to accept help from anyone, friend and foe alike.

“Don’t worry about me, girl. I almost got enough to cover three months. This night might just be the night.”

Broisa only sighed through the line, having heard that excuse many times from Syrae, the sentence damn near sounded like a chorus. All she could do was sip her tea vigorously to avoid letting her annoyance show from Syrae’s persistence at maintaining her prideful stance.

Despite them being friends for years, Broisa has failed time and time again from scratching beyond surface level with Syrae. And while she tries not to psychoanalyze the woman, it's extremely hard not to do so, given the dirt and bugs she’s given, barely anything fruitful.

The two women spent a little while longer on the phone before fell into their daily errands, and unfortunately for Syrae, that included fixing the leaking toilet in the bathroom

It had been roughly twenty minutes and some change that Terry had spent on the treadmill. The gym was a little emptier than usual, which he wasn't complaining about, he needed the quiet to settle into his thoughts.

These past few days had been hard for him, work was stressful. One of his workers was dealing with loss, and while Terry gladly gave them some time off, it threw the routine in the workshop off balance and frankly, everything was a mess.

The air of his home clogged his throat, the mere smell of lavender was enough to bring a sting to his eyes, a persistent reminder of his unfaithfulness.

But among the lingering scent of his wife, a small, purple charm that laid on his coffee table did a much better job at adding to his never wavering guilt.

The kiss lasted for damn near an eternity, but every time their lips separated for some air,Terry couldn’t help but miss the taste of cherry and liquor on her tongue.

Hands wandered and lips locked intensively. Their hips ground against each other intentionally, creating delicious friction that did nothing to soothe the ache in their stomachs.

It wasn't enough, Terry was so close yet so far away. Syrae just needed him a little… only a little close, just to relieve the tightening in her stomach and stop the ache that grew in her heart.

Syrae’s hand moved down the thickness of her thighs, her hand covered the large one that squeezed her flesh, directing it closer to where she leaked and pined the most.

Terry complied, his hand fitting perfectly underneath her dress, gripping at the thin material of her lace underwear. Just as he was about to pull the material off her thighs, the sound of a door banging closed and the drunken laughter of a group of women startled the pair apart.

Terry wiped at the sides of his mouth, ridding his lips of the sheer lip gloss that once decorated Syrae’s lips.

With her head leaned against the wall, Syrae exhaled heavily, listening attentively as stumbling steps and loud chatter got softer.

The two remained apart, even after the group of women pong disappeared from their sight. Syrae couldn't find herself to look at Terry, and before he knew it, she stood straight and gathered her heels in her hands.

“Syrae-.” Terry began, already knowing what she was trying to do. He wouldn't watch her leave after what they just did. He Couldn't.

Syrae held a hand up and began walking off, tears filling the brim of her eyes as the intensity of the situation fell on her like a collapsing home, most especially Terry's

“Syrae!” Terry called out yet again, watching as she ran out of the alley before making a sharp turn. She was already too far, and he’s guilt wouldn't allow himself to follow her.

Terry hadn't felt like more of a coward than in that moment.

It wasn't until his gaze fell on the floor, back where she stood against the wall, until he noticed a small object on the floor.

Reluctantly, Terry picked it up, scrutinized the charm and made a mental connection. This belonged to Syrae.

And Terry hated how those bloody butterflies twisted at the ides of having another reason to see her. He hated how his heart jumped, believing this was another ‘opportunity’ presented to him.

He hated how no once did he think about Amber and the words he vowed to her.

But what Terry hated the most, is how his lips tingled in withdrawal, already in need of another fix of galaxies.

Flashback over

“Aye, Terry!” The green-eyed Adonis is called out of his daydream, forcing him off the treadmill before he fell.

“Yo, you good bro?” Yosohn asked with a frown on his face He had been calling Terry’s name a number of times, but the man seemed out of it.

“Yeah, I’m good.” Terry responded.

He stepped off the treadmill, wiping the sweat off his face with a towel he had hanging over the machine. Truthfully, he had forgotten that Yosohn accompanied him to the gym, too wrapped up in his own thoughts to even hold proper conversation with his friend.

“It don't seem like it, called your name like ten times.” he said, “What’s on your mind?”

“Nothing.” Terry insisted, his shoulder lifting and dropping before he took a sip of cold water. It did enough to cool his burning body from the intense workouts.

“Or should I say Who’s on your mind.” Yosohn raised a brow, What tone leading as assumption rolled off his tongue.

“What you tryna say?” Terry retorted, his brows dipping into his skin, creating ridges in the middle of his forehead as he stared at Yosohn, offended.

He turned his back to the other male, picking up a dumbbell in each hand, spreading his legs apart tobegin his bicep curls.

Yoshon smacked his lips, shaking his head at Terry’s incompetence and refusal to admit what was obvious to everyone. He moved to stand beside the taller male, leaning against the cold steel railing where blue yoga balls and dumbbells rested.

“Come on, T.” Yosohn began, “I’m not stupid.”

“Didn't say you were. I’m just a little confu-”

“Don’t give me that bullshit man, I’m talkin’ bout Syrae.” Yosohn interrupted, a deep mug on his face as his foot began tapping on the black, fitted carpet of the gym.

“What about her?” Terry grunted. While his focus seemed to be on the exercise, his mind ran at fifty per minute. Images of Syrae and what they shouldn't have done weighing heavy on his conscious. Sometimes if he thought hard enough, he could still taste her and a sprinkle of stars.

“What’s goin on between y’all? Me and Isla noticed how y’all were looking at each other the other night.”

“We just friends, Sohn.”

“You sure?” he asked, “I don't be looking at my ‘friends’ like I’m tryna dick em down.” Yosohn imitated inverted commas with his fingers at the word ‘friends’.

“That’s not how I look at-”

“Especially since I’ve got my own woman.”

Terry dropped the dumbbells onto the ground, the carpet drowning out the impact. His jaw clenched before he turned to Yosohn, shoulders rolling slightly to relieve the tension on his neck.

He looked around the gym, people weren't paying attention to the boiling argument, the sound of gym equipment being used did enough to drown out the sound of their conversation.

“I don't know what you saw, or what you think you saw.” Terry looked back at Yosohn, “But I'ma tell you this. I love my woman, and my eyes ain't wandering to anybody else. So get that base off your chest and come spot me.”

Terry pat Yosohn's shoulder before walking past him. His heart was beating out of his chest, his breathing slightly tagged which he could freely blame on the exercises. Terry couldn't help but wonder just how much Yosohn saw, was he really that obvious when near Syrae?

Yosohn followed Terry towards the weight training bench. He exhaled at the conversation, not feeling half as satisfied with the outcome as he would've hoped.

The two men moved past the tension and continued with their routines, helping one another get their workout in before they headed home. Both with thoughts weighing heavy in their mind.

It was a little past midnight, and Syrae had concluded that she's had enough of Gravity and dancing for its ‘esteemed’ inhabitants.

Or in better words… fuck Gravity and every cheapskate in there. You would think people would throw more cash at the stage since they paid less at entrance.

Technically, she was finally off the clock for the night. Despite the event, she would abide by her ‘contracted’ working hours. Randy could kiss her ass.

Standing outside the club, Syrae leaned against Broisa's car, waiting for her to finish her private dance so they could get out of here and go home. Despite the thick leather coat that passed her knees, cat calls from various passerbys didn't seem to cease.

All she could do was roll her eyes and impatiently wait for her tardy friend, which really, was most definitely in character for Broisa.

“I'm here girl, I'm here.” The shorter woman said, running, or at least attempting to, towards her pink Peugeot.

Syrae couldn't help the laugh that scratched her throat from passing her lips, Broisa had always been an entertaining woman, even when she didn't try. “I can see that, what took you so long.”

Broisa explained how she got stuck in the private room having to help a passed out, middle aged man. Clearly some had too much to drink.

“Yeah, now you gotta get me some to eat.” Syrae raised her brow at Broisa before seating herself on the hood of the car, her feet barely dangling over.

Broisa laughed and rolled her eyes, having expected nothing less from Syrae, still she agreed. She got some sneakers out of the car and traded them for the heels on her feet before calling home beside Syrae.

“Seem like you in better moods, damn near chewed my head off this mornin’.” Broisa commented, eliciting a signature eye roll from Syrae, one reserved for her only.

“Lets not, I'm tryna distract myself from that.” A dull deflection is all Broisa received in return.

She still could not understand why the small charm held such importance to Syrae that it could turn her world completely upside-down. That thought doesn't last long as her eyes catch something in the distance.

“Well, I see a pretty good distraction at 9.” Broisa raised a brow.

Syrae looks to her right, catching sight of a six foot three, green-eyed, handsome bastard that seemed to be running the track coiling in her mind.

Terry Richmond had no business looking as good as he does. Casual jeans and t-shirt, covered by the thick cotton of his long, black trench coat. He had no business being near Syrae, looking as good as he does.

“Shit.” Syrae groaned and clenched her eyes shut when he noticed her before he meticulously took his steps towards her, one's that moved to the rhythm of her beating her heart.

She slid off the car and met him halfway. She wished she didn't, maybe then she wouldn't have noticed the change in his regular scent. He smelled like an ocean breeze and soft citrus.

He changed his cologne, and the reality that she picked up on something so small tickled her faint heart the same way his scent tickled her nose.

“Hey.”

“What you doin’ here?”

They spoke at the same time. Terry's brows dip into a frown, his lips opening slightly before closing again. He hadn't expected the ambush.

Syrae sighed, rubbed the bridge of her nose. Her gaze fleets behind her to Broisa before they train back to Terry. He needed to leave, because flashbacks from nights ago started placing bricks in her head.

“Terry, what you doin’ here?” She asked again, gently this time. Her gaze involuntarily softened from gazing in his eyes one second too long.

“Wanted to talk.” He muttered, clenching his hands in the pockets of his coat to soothe the need to reach out and touch her. He probably should just give her the charm and drive himself back home, but being in front of her, he wanted nothing more than another taste of space.

“We… we can't do that.” Syrae mumbles under her breath, shifting her weight from one leg to the other. Damn dragonflies.

Terry was stupid enough to ask why, as if the answer didn't lay in the way his breath hitched the more he looked at her, like oxygen ceased to exist when he was near Syrae.

“Terry, c’mon. We can't do thi-.”

“I have your charm.” He interrupted, not needing to hear her finish the sentence. For once he just didn't need… logic. “You dropped it… that night.”

He took one clenched fist out of his pocket, reaching the hand out to Syrae, revealing a plastic, purple charm. A heart with wings.

At first, when Terry found it on the floor, he deemed it unimportant. Until his fingers ran across the rough feel of something engraved on it. Initials that spelt out ‘K.B’.

Syrae's eyes darted from the object in his hand to his eyes. But the wave of relief that washed over her failed miserably at killing the damn fluttering in her stomach.

“But I just wanna talk, Rae. Can you give me that?” Terry whispered, taking one step closer before dropping the charm into her smaller hands, hands he's worked day and night to remove the imprints from his skin, and his memory.

She nodded her head, her throat too clogged up to say anything coherent. She hated the way rejection just seemed near impossible with Terry around. Since they've known each other, saying ‘no’ proved to be harder than what she would've liked.

Terry sighed in relief at her compliance. He nodded his head behind him, walked towards his car where they could talk privately.

Syrae looked back at Broisa, who already seemed to be looking at her with a brow raised. A look of scepticism painted her face, causing Syrae to gesture with her hands that she should wait.

Syrae followed behind Terry quietly. She climbed into the passenger seat after he opened the door for her, watching in the warmth of his car as he jogged around to climb into the drivers.

The interior of the car was as clean as a whistle. Shiny leather seats and surfaces free of dust. Syrae’s heart clenched at the scent that wafted the air in the car, however. Lavender.

There was a pregnant silence between them. Terry's eyes focused solely on the windshield while Syrae’s solely on her lap, where her fingers twirled around one another.

She felt distant. Terry wanted to look at her so badly, but stars seemed to be his weakness, even though they were deemed unreachable.

But when Syrae was the subject of his lens, chasing those unreachable balls of light didn't seem so impossible. Because she always had them floating around her, on her, even if they were faux. Like micro, plastic cut-outs that danced on her skin and shimmered in her light.

“You been ignoring my texts.” Terry said, not out of accusation, but out of observation.

Ever since she called him about his wallet, Terry had saved her number and they've been texting back and forth ever since about anything and everything. Those texts stopped after their drunken kiss.

“What was I s’posed to say, Terry?” Syrae sighed, already feeling a pending headache from the conversation between them.

“Could've at least let me know you made it home.” He responded and finally turned to face her. “You just ran off, Rae. I was worried.”

“Well you should've ran after me, made sure I was safe if you were so worried.” Syrae countered, holding back an eye roll as the attitude rolled off her tongue effortlessly.

“How was I ‘sposed to do that after we kiss-” He stopped himself, exhaled as his eyes were facing the front of the car again.

“Then how you expect me to text you after that?”

A great question, one Terry definitely didn't have an answer to. While he knew it was selfish of him to want to continue talking to Syrae after what happened, he also couldn't help indulging himself.

There's another heavy silence, this one filled with newfound tension.

Syrae looked out the window. The smell of lavender was so strong and it reminded her of the intensity of the situation.

“This was a mistake.” Syrae mumbled to herself before opening the passenger door and climbing put of the car.

Terry got out as well with a quickness, quickly rounding to reach Syrae before she walked away from the conversation… from him.

“Syrae! Damn it, could you stop walkin’ away from me?” He caught her arm, holding it gently as his thumb rubbed circles over her coat.

“Well I need to, Terry. Cause you clearly don't want to. This!” She points between the both of them animatedly. “Can't happen. That night wasn't supposed to happen because you're married.”

“And I know th-”

“Well then act like it!” Syrae exclaimed suddenly before looking around her, embarrassment settling at the outburst.

“I can't sleep sometimes, Terry. I keep thinkin’ bout how I stole such a… precious moment with another woman’s husband.” She whispered, looking everywhere but his eyes.

And that hurt Terry, he wanted her to look at him, but he didn't have the audacity to ask for such a thing. “It won't happen again.”

“And you gon’ stop it, like you did last time?” sarcasm oozed from Syrae’s rhetorical question. Because the answer was all in their current argument. Terry wouldn't be able to stop shit from happening between them.

“I just- I don't wanna lose you as a friend Rae. I… we could forget bout what happened.”

They couldn't, they wouldn't be able to. Because that was the first time in a long time that Syrae thought a man’s touch felt right. Despite how wrong it was or how drunk she was, she felt at ease when Terry touched her.

Still, even after that realisation, she still pondered at the idea of them being friends. That maybe that would work out, maybe she could forget all about their mutual attraction to one another.

“Terry, you and I can't be ‘just friends’.” She shook her head and looked off to the side.

Terry finally let go of her arm, placing his hands in the pockets of his coat. He didn't have anything that could dispute that, he was merely living in a fantasy where he could have her… platonically.

“Yes we can. Just let me show you.”

She pondered yet again, scratching at the exposed skin of her neck before exhaling through her nose. This was exactly what she was talking about, the rejection that just always seemed so impossible with Terry involved.

“Just friends?” She asked, finally looking up at him, and she wished she didn't. Because the earthy pools that looked back at her sold promises that she wasn't sure could be kept.

“No funny business?”

“Just friends.”

“Give you my word.”

“Well then say it.”

Terry laughed at that, the baritone woke the fluttering in Syrae's stomach. The sight of his smile enticing a smile of her own.

“I promise.” Terry muttered through his smile. Signed, sealed and delivered.

“Okay.” Syrae whispered, her fingers twiddling yet again. “We can stay friends, I guess.”

His smile widened, something Syrae thought wasn't even possible with the way he was cheesing moments before. She bet husband cheeks hurt more than hers.

“Okay. I'll see you around, Ms. Belles.” Terry nodded his head before walking backwards, keeping his eyes on Syrae which drew an unsolicited laugh from her chest as she shook her head at his antics. “Keep safe.”

“See you ‘round, Mr. Richmond.” She began, watching him back into the driver seat of his car. “And you too.”

Syrae watched as the car backed away from the parking lot of the club. She sighed heavily once it was out of her sight before she turned and walked back to Broisa, who was beyond curious with the interaction she just witnessed.

“Don't start.” Syrae warned with a flat face once she took notice of the other woman’s expression.

“I’m just worried. I thought I was seeing shit that night. I told Gage’s ass that there was somethin’ between the two of y'all and he aint believe.” Broisa rambled, which caused Syrae to roll her eyes and shake her head.

“Y'all havin’ pillow talk about my business?” Syrae frowned up at her friend.

“I mean, your life seem very interesting lately so why the hell not?” Broisa shrugged with a small smile before she focused on Syrae seriously, her eyes scanned her face intently.

“That's a married man, Rae. Freshly married might I add.”

“I know, Broisa. There ain't shit going on between me and that man.” Syrae quickly countered with a loud exhale at the reminder. The feel of the cold metal around his finger ironically burned the skin of her thigh since the kiss. She didn't need another reminder.

“I hope for your sake that's true, cause what I just saw ain't look like nothin’.” Broisa hummed lowly before sliding off her car and unlocking it. “Anyway, let go get somethin’ to eat. A girl hungry as fuck.”

Syrae watched as Broisa got into her car after her warning. Her heart thumped a bit faster at her words. She hoped so too, hoped so badly that Terry and her could stay friends, no matter how impossible it sounded to her heart.

“Fuck my life.” Syrae murmured under her breath before she walked to the passenger side of the car and climbed in.

She really, really hoped she could forget about that night, the kiss, the idea of something romantic with Terry. But why did hope suddenly feel like something so far-fetched.

A/n: Finally, with this chapter out of the way, we can get to the nitty gritty of the story. The first four chapters were just introducing us to the characters and the situation. Now we can go into the problems and the angst.

Please comment and reblog if you like the story so far or on your thoughts, I'd like to hear what you guys think.

Taglist:

@blyffe @peachbutterfly-blog @browngirldominion @blackmoonchilee @megamindsecretlair @mogul93 @earthchica @nayaesworld @cdotmvkspaz @kaylaaisthebestest- @zillasvilla

If I forgot to tag you or you want to be tagged, let me know in the comments.

[lychgate]

i haven't posted a really poorly drawn thought piece adventure in years so here's a brief update!

hope i hit the read more thing right oh well anyway:

"Spent a lot of time applying for a home loan. I had to pay -fucked up- to have a convincing income for a decent loan. It was very confusing but cody helped me a lot."

"Cody proposed to me It felt wonderful that someone wanted to share their time and love with me. Cody proposed Anthrohio weekend, it's the con we really met at."

"We saw the listing that sunday morning before we had to go to our table to vend."

"It was a perfect house. We were the first people to view it and we immediately put in a bid. And we got the house. Many papers to sign."

"Moving was not easy. It took 2 whole months. Cody was out of town helping their grandma recover from a big surgery and we had to sell their old house/move that as well as move from my apartment. ALSO THE PETS: My cat dick wolf + Cody's 3 birds. Until we could get some doors installed and separate the house, I had to live between two places every day to feed and care for them."

"Still, life was good. I bought my first house! It has a swing in the backyard. I've never had my own backyard. I've never even lived somewhere that had trees (in said yard) It felt nice. Living together with the love of my life and 4 pets."

"Through all this i never closed my shop. How could I? It was my income, and I just bought a house. It needed to stay open. Moving that much inventory, setting up a new office, the house is a nice size but it's not huge, so, very careful organizing had to be executed if I wanted my apparel laid out right. (Which I totally managed to do)"

"but i Did get really good at baking pies. the two are connected."

"sacred_crow on instagram!"

"there's like 25 of u bastards i would absolutely die for, and about 75 more that i would go nearly dead over."

"We have an extra bedroom so I got to turn it into a toy room. There's games, crafts, stuffed animals, movies, a sick loft I painted the shit out of. It rules. It brings me a lot of Joy."

"Under the loft we have a dug out where we can watch VHS tapes. I love to sit with Cody and watch movies and play Donkey Kong."

"I am not good at Banjo Kazooie, but Cody is. Cody is so talented. I love watching them play games. (Depicted is not banjo kazooie but donkey kong country 2 as we are currently playing that. I'm good at DKC but I will still swear and make sounds like im about to throw up)"

"Half the basement is finished, so we turned it into a dual office space. It rules. Cody has a whole side for fursuit crafting, and my side is mostly my gigantic gamer computer area/shipping area. I took a whole wall to put all my non apparel merch like pins charms and notebooks also. for hte love of god someone buy the notebooks they take up more space then i wanted"

"I love to look over from my computer and see cody working. They always look so focused, yet peaceful."

"It's winter but it rains. I miss the snow. I lived by the lakes growing up. I miss piles of snow. It's just wet and cold here. Yes i'm quite aware of global warming"

"I got kicked off both my health and car insurance. I fixed the car one but health insurance still no. All my meds have gone away. The past few months have been hard. I think way too much lately. I can't get myself to do anything. -this is a whole page of downer bullshit and i cropped it!-"

"We had a leaky ceiling that took a month to fix. Cody did all the work because they are smart and kind."

"Oh yeah I had my uterus removed earlier this year. They let me keep it. It's in a jar in my living room."

"We threw a very nice halloween party. I was the green m&m. Cody was the monarch."

"We adopted 8 beautiful kiwis from a crane machine at the mall. we spent over 100 monies to get them but it was worth it."

"

It was a rough year. My health is in decline. Our country may try to end my life for being trans soon (lol?) I am in hte middle of a colossal mental breakdown of my core fundamental behavior (depression advanced) BUT ALSO: I am engaged to my favorite person. We bought a house together. I'm beginning a new chapter of my life. I have a swing in my backyard. The negatives suck but there are also many positives. The cycle of emotions is immense, but there is beauty in it. There is beauty in life, and isn't that wonderful?"

[fidenciocryptidcreechur]

I love the idea that Leona is living telenovela levels of insane political intrigue with high stakes mind games and strategy at play and sometimes he relies on ruggie and ruggie is there for some other job and that's how he gets roped in to another high stakes hijinks. Meanwhile Ruggie is just trying to pay bills and get groceries. In one episode Leona needs a last minute job done quickly that's super important and Ruggie ends up doing it impossibly quickly and efficiently and Leona is trying to figure out why, why was he so motivated this time and why a poor hyena didn't even stick around for much more than his pay before running off immediately afterwards but turns out the only reason Ruggie was so motivated was that there was a discount sale that was gonna end soon and he was already pressed for time so he just took his pay and rushed out. Leona never finds out Ruggie's motivation (as smart as he is, he's still a prince who would be flabbergasted at the idea of a sale on what he sees as cheap goods being a strong enough motivator to get someone going above and beyond to wrap up a task) and ruggie has so much on his plate he barely remembers it since he's probably often had to rush through some jobs for similar reasons.

If your fave twst boy had his own anime, what kind of genre would he be in?

Jack, I think would be in an action/sports/ anime with a bit of romance. The romance is probably with a childhood friend he's protective of and very tsun about.

[jaegeraether]

Sunsets and Footballers - ONE-SHOTS

Jae: In November 2023, I started writing. In January 2024, I created my first online community for WOSO lovers. I’m now out of that and onto my second one, Lumos by Jae, however it’s impacted me more than I could have ever imagined, and in the best kind of way!

I’ve met some extraordinary people and created relationships that will stay with me for a lifetime. It’s something I’d never even thought of before!

I appreciate everyone I meet and communicate with online. It’s crazy how one decision to start writing has brought special people into my life from all around the world!

This BONUS chapter within the S&F universe is a little nod to that, by way of creating a cute little romantic story based around two people meeting on an online forum.

I hope you all enjoy the story of Rosie and Mari!

Discord Lovers (3.7k)

ROSIE POV

She posted a Lumos photo onto the server and, as expected, the comments flooded in. ‘Her fucking arms. Exactly what I needed to see on a down day.’

‘Future wife.’

‘I need to know her lifting routine for this immediately.’

‘The things I’d do for her.’

‘On my knees.’

She chuckled and wondered just how strange Ona would find it if she made her way onto the thirsty WOSO and fanfics side of their fandom. Pushing that humiliating thought aside, she sent a text and immediately her phone buzzed.

Mari: You’re having a down day, my girl?

Rosie: Just one of those days where everyone expects everything from me. I’m okay, love.

Mari: Promise?

Rosie: Promise. Did you see that photo of Ona before I posted it?

Mari: I sent you $20 to get yourself Starbucks, love. Get some rest today, please. Yes, I did see!

Rosie: You’re amazing.. *big eyes emoji* I don’t deserve you. You were there today?

Mari: You know I’m always there.

Rosie: God, she’s incredible.

Mari: I’m fully aware that Ona Batlle is the biggest competition I have when it comes to you.

Rosie chuckled at her phone. It had been months now that she’d been involved in the online WOSO fan server, and only slightly less time talking to the person who’d quickly become the most important person in her life. Never before had she imagined meeting someone over the internet, let alone touching herself over the phone to them. Messaging them every day. Needing them there just to be able to sleep. Mari had become that for her, in such intimate ways that she never knew were possible online.

Rosie: You know full well that you’re the only one I want. *red heart emoji* *eye roll emoji*

Mari: Let me just screenshot that for future evidence…

Rosie: Wooooow.

Mari: *laughing emoji* Speaking of us… did you book your tickets?

Rosie: Are you almost done with work..? We can talk about it over the phone if you want.

Mari: I’m just at the stadium for the night. Is that a yes? I said I’d pay for them!

Rosie: They were cheaper so close to the date! And you’re doing enough by offering your place for accommodation while I’m there. Working?

Mari worked with for Lumos and her primary focus for content were the Barcelona team. She always sent unseen photos into the group and to her because she was the one taking them. And although she was jealous of Rosie’s love for Ona, she did encourage it by sending photos. But Rosie knew she only did that to make her happy.

Mari: Out with my friend for the game, remember? Of course you can stay with me, silly girl. You’re mine.

Rosie almost slapped her own head. How could she forget?!

Rosie: Oh that’s right! Sorry baby, I completely blanked. Mmn – I can’t wait..

Mari: Pictures of her tend to do that to you, huh?

Rosie: Mapi’s recently were also hot *hot emoji* I told you her friend said I’m exactly her type, right?

Mari: The tattoo artist? Only about 10 times. Lucky you’re so cute.

Rosie: You don’t know that. You haven’t seen all of me yet!

It was true, the pair had met online and were in somewhat of a relationship beyond friendship, yet not far enough in to call it a partnership, and they’d both been waiting to meet each other in person for the first time to make it special. Because they were special. And they both knew it.

Mari: I have to go, my friend is waiting. So, just to confirm, you did book your tickets?

Rosie: Yes… but I’d like to talk to you about it over the phone after the game..? Don’t worry about messaging me during, just spend time with him!

Mari: *excited GIF* I’m so excited. One more week! *red heart emoji* I’ll message you after the game. I miss you already..

Rosie: One more week. *red heart emoji* I miss you too.

In one week, Rosie would be flying over to Barcelona for the first time in years. In one week, she’d met the person she’d fallen in love with over the internet. Her person.

Mari: My bed is calling your name. I can’t wait to hold you at last. I have to go now, driving to my friends house, but I’ll be sure to stop by the players café after to see if I can spot a few of them and get photos for you!

Rosie: Where have you been all my life?

Mari: Spain baby, Spain.

Rosie: One week.

Mari: One week…

She put her phone down, grinning like an idiot. If she’d told any of her friends, they’d say she was crazy for meeting someone when she’d only seen bits of her. Her hands. Her shoes. Her neck. Honestly, she would be just as sceptical in their position. She’d scream bloody murder that they were being catfished, but there was something about her that was just so fucking authentic.

They’d laughed and cried over the phone. Watched movies. Vented to each other. Fucked over the phone. The sound of her noises in her ears drove her crazy. Jesus.

They had the same communication style and morals. The same idea of family and prioritisation of values. She thanked her lucky stars every day for bringing Mari into her life.

Somehow, she’d followed a fanfic writer into an online server to meet friends. And somehow, she found her comfort person. She was just hoping that when she got there, everything would fall into place and be as natural as it was over the phone. Because they were special. Beyond special.

Rosie went about her day as she usually did, always busy with work and her social life. She tried to not look at her phone too much, missing Mari but knowing that space was good. They’d had those conversations before and hence, they both would tend to not message the other while working or with friends. They didn’t want to become too dependent, especially when they hadn’t met in person.

She jumped in and out of the server throughout the day, responding to images people posted from the game and such. Most were average shots of players from a distance, though Lumos posted the best shots to Instagram, and always so quickly! Photos of Alexia, Mapi, Aitana, Ona. God, they were all so attractive.

Ona wasn’t her usual type, but it was simply crazy to her how attracted to her she was. Mari, though, had always been a fan of Alexia and her partner, a businesswoman named Ridley. They’d become the it couple of the WOSO world alongside Lucy and the Director of Lumos, YFN. And even more strange, was that YFN and Ridley grew up together! Sisters or something similar. That knowledge had sent the WOSO world into a rabbit hole investigation and conspiracy. She’d photographed Lucy less since she’d left to go play for Chelsea and be closer to YFN, which was understandable. Chelsea though? Not so understandable.

Alexia and Ridley though.. those photos paid a hell of a lot of money with Lumos. It’s why Mari was always at training. Ridley tended to show up and support her at games and training often. Alexia had never used to be one who was publicly affectionate, but she was genuinely the opposite with Ridley to the point where Rosie didn’t even think Alexia knew how touchy and sappy she was being.

It was… a dream. A goal. An aim. The love they had, the way they looked at each other was exactly what Rosie wanted in life. Until that point, she’d never gotten there. She’d just been a sort of ‘stepping stone’ in relationships. She never felt like she was good enough, pretty enough, funny enough. She’d obsessed over the gym and created an unhealthy relationship with food. She was working on it all, though. She was getting better. Mari had helped out with all of it a lot. She was… healthy for her.

Even when Rosie had sent her a picture of her body in the mirror, minus her face, she’d been met with nothing but support and genuine obsession. Mari made her feel so confident about herself that it encouraged her to send more and to think about it less, because each time, she knew she’d be met with genuine enthusiasm and adoration.

Never in a million years could she put into words how she felt for that woman. She found herself checking her phone too many times, waiting for her name to pop up in her messages or the server. Waiting to see her photos posted by Lumos.

She always tried to distract herself from the obsession that was Mari and focus on life instead. Sometimes it didn’t work. Today though, with the amount of things she had to do, it did. She’d missed the Barca game, instead flooded with work and then by friends.

By the time she got home, she saw Mari’s messages. Unreleased photos of Ona and the team from her Lumos co-workers. Photos of Ona signing autographs and taking selfies in the crowd. Mapi and Ingrid embracing. Alexia climbing into the stands to wrap her arms around Ridley who was sat with the Putellas family.

Everything was right in the world of WOSO.

And then she sent another picture. It was after the game… Ona in her favourite café just around the corner from the stadium.

Mari: Ona made a pit stop… no other players, sorry!

Rosie: How did you get that photo without her seeing you?!

Mari: I can be sneaky *wink emoji*

Rosie: Can we make a deal?

Mari: Anything. Tell me.

Rosie: When I come to Barcelona… I want to meet you for the first time in that café.

Mari was silent, for almost too long until, well into the night. She climbed into bed early, wanting to sleep to get out of her own head, but couldn’t seem to put her phone down. Around 9pm her time, Mari’s name glowed onto the screen and she answered it far, far too quickly.

“Hola..” she whispered.

‘Hi baby,’ came the response in Spanish.

“You’ve been busy.”

‘I have.. I’m sorry. I’ve been busy with some last minute work things that came in.’

“Is this about Ona and Alexia being mobbed outside the restaurant?”

‘Yes, love. Ona and Alexia’s agents planned paparazzi shots went south. Other paparazzi showed up and started pushing and shoving. We had to put our cameras down and help get them out of there.’

It was quite usual for Lumos and the players to organise for photos to be taken when they were interacting with fans to encourage their public image and female footballers in general. Lumos tended to be quite respectful with it all. They were there for the players.

“But you weren’t supposed to be working tonight?”

‘Bella’s daughter got sick, and I had to cover last minute.’

“And you had to intervene?! Are you okay? What happened?!”

‘We called Lumos head office and let them know there were others there. They started getting violent while we were on the phone and YFN told us to put the cameras down and protect the players. That’s their main concern first and foremost.’

Lumos were well known for their good relationships with players. Mari adored working there, and all of them did have crowd-control and security training to ensure the workers and players were always safe.

They’d spoken before about the possibility of Rosie moving over to live there, as it had always been her dream to live in Barca, and Mari was 100% positive that Lumos would hire her. And even better, she could work on the Barca team, with travel opportunities following the players!

The first time they’d talked about it, she’d never been so excited. But her first thought was always Mari. They were so sappy for each other that they wanted the first time they saw each other to be in person. They also needed to meet and interact to see if they worked together well in person. And God, did she want her.

Mari sent the photos she had of Ona and Alexia, and then there was random footage from one of the workers for legal purposes, videoing the Lumos workers trying to protect the famous Barcelona players, getting them safely to their car. Ridley pulled up, brakes slamming on and running out to manhandle most people away, protecting Alexia and Ona like they were her clients. She’d picked Alexia up, practically carrying her to the car and grabbing Ona to shove her in just behind. In the video, she noticed one of the Lumos workers wrestling a larger paparazzi guy in the background and her stomach filled with butterflies. It was the most she’d ever seen of her before… and although she couldn’t see her face, she still felt giddy. One more week.

“You promise you’re okay?”

‘I promise… I’m just sorry I didn’t get back to you sooner. We had a few meetings with Lumos and Barca management after that.’

“All thanking you, I hope.”

‘Of course.’

“I was just about to head to bed..”

‘I assumed so baby, it’s getting late. Would you like me to stay here while you sleep?’

“Is that even a question?”

‘Mmn.’ Her voice was so deep that she knew she was getting tired also. She loved it when it did that. ‘Sleep, baby. I’m here.’

“Will you fall asleep with me..?”

‘I’m just getting into bed now.. put your phone down now please. I’ll be here when you wake, love.’

It was rare that their schedules matched up to allow them to sleep together. It must have been after midnight there, but she wasn’t surprised after the night she’d had.

It didn’t take long for her to fall asleep to her sleepy noises on the other end, knowing that in 6 days, she’d be right there next to her.

The next week went by excitedly and far, far too slowly. Mari sent her photos from the games and work. There was even a point where she’d been at a Lumos event and put YFN on the phone. The Director! And she was so lovely. Mari and Rosie always spoke in Spanish, so it was cute to hear her accent as she spoke English with YFN, though it was loud. She was also so softly spoken in English and YFN was patient, suggesting words to her whenever she faltered. Rosie used English in her everyday life, so it wasn’t an issue for her at all.

Come the end of the week, she was shaking with nerves. Her friends kept her entertained while she packed her suitcase and carry on, and then they drove her down to the closest airport with a direct flight to Barcelona. She was on the phone with Mari at the airport as she waited for her flight. A dragging 9 hours later, and she touched down in Barcelona. The first thing she did when she stepped outside of the airport was tilt her face towards that warm, friendly sun, wondering if this was the place she’d spend the rest of her life.

She freshened up in the shower at the airport, getting dressed and making sure her hair and makeup was perfect. Now, she was more nervous than she’d expected. Her hands were shaking applying the lipstick, and she tried to ignore it.

Her phone’s esim finally activated and buzzed numerous times. Her friends and family checking on her. The WOSO server talking about the latest WOSO news and upcoming games. And Mari…

Mari: Hi love, I see your flight landed safely. Welcome to Barcelona! Welcome to my home.. I know I’ve asked a few times but are you sure you don’t want me to pick you up from the airport?

Rosie smiled down at that and replied.

Rosie: Your home is beautiful. So much so, that I can see myself living here one day perhaps… It’s okay, we have a plan, yes?

Mari: If you find me pretty, that is. And yes, we do..

Rosie: *eye roll emoji* I know you. Regardless of how you look. You’re my person. I’ll see you soon..

Mari: I live just around the corner so message me when you’re there.

Rosie: Okay, love. What do you think the chances are that I’ll see one of the players?

It was the most popular café for the Barcelona players to be spotted. Ridley and Alexia were there just a few days ago on a double date with Mapi and Ingrid. Even Lucy and YFN had been spotted there!

Mari: I dare say your chances are good, love.

Rosie: Don’t get jealous now, you know the only person I want is you.

Mari: I can’t wait to see you. To hold you. I’ll be the one with red bracelet on that you sent me…

Rosie: And I’ll be the one in the blue one you sent me…

Mari: Culers for life, we are.

Rosie smiled at her phone like an idiot. She finished up and left the airport, jumping into a taxi that she knew would be far too expensive.

She was here. Shit. It was happening. Fuck. She was about to meet her. Double fuck. In the very best kind of way.

She tried to distract herself by responding to her family and friends, letting them know she’d arrived safely. She turned on her location so they could follow, just as they’d insisted, and promised to keep them updated. You could never be too safe!

The taxi pulled outside of the café 15 minutes later and she paid, thanking him in Spanish, and realising just how different her accent was to the locals. She snapped a photo of the café from the outside, trying to enjoy the moment for what it was.

She was here.

Looking around, she tried to spot Mari to no avail. She knew she wouldn’t. She’d give her space until she was ready. Rosie knew that.

She wandered inside and found a free booth, parking her luggage and ordering a drink. Only when it arrived, and she’d had a drink to calm her nerves, did she message Mari.

Rosie: I’m at the café.

Mari: Okay baby, are you ready?

God, that woman. She knew just what she needed.

Rosie: I think so..

Mari: On my way. Message me if you want me to wait at all... it’s okay.

Rosie: I want my hug.

Mari: Mmn. *smiling hearts emoji*

She knew that Mari lived around about a 7-minute walk from the café, so she had time to control herself. She played with her phone for a bit. Put it down. Smiled at the friendly locals coming and going in and out. Fidgeted. Forced herself to stop. Took a sip. Looked at the menu.

A few minutes felt like half an hour, and while she was looking at the menu, she heard the door to the café open again. It was too soon to be Mari, so she didn't bother looking at first, until she decided to distract herself by checking.

Holy shit.

It was Ona.

Ona Batlle. Not 3 metres away from her. Fuck, she was stunning. A petite thing, but so goddamned beautiful, her long hair down and sharp jaw exposed. She wasn’t paying attention to her at all, just on her phone texting and looking at the menu. She ordered but the café was too loud for her to hear what she’d ordered. If it wasn’t too busy, Rosie would have offered to pay for it. But it was bustling. She was lucky to even get a table!

Rosie: Baby, Ona is here.

Mari: Are you going to say hello?

Rosie: I don’t want to be one of those fangirls. I’m so much more than that. I respect her so much more than that.

Mari: I know… it’s why I love you.

Ona collected her drink and left, walking outside and making a phone call. She looked agitated, almost. Rosie wondered if she should have offered her table, though it would have been far too loud for her to make her phone call.

Rosie: Are you close?

She watched as Ona paced up and down, talking on the phone and wondered if Mari would run into her. A few more minutes passed and there was no response. Had she backed out? Did Mari need time?

Luckily, Ona was distracting her from her thoughts. She hung up and took a sip of her drink, but instead of walking away, she wandered back inside, her eyes immediately finding her own.

Rosie looked down at her menu, her face flushing bright red. Had she seen her watching? Fuck. Where was Mari?

She skimmed down the menu, not necessarily reading it, when a body slid into the booth opposite her. Before she looked, she could smell the perfume Mari had sent her on a Batlle Barca jersey she’d sent her. Fuck.

Rosie took a breath and looked up, startling as she’d realised it wasn’t Mari. Instead, she fell into the comforting chocolate brown eyes of Ona Batlle. Fuck. Was she frustrated on the phone because she was meeting friends and the café was busy? Did she want the booth Rosie was taking up by herself?

Ona didn’t say anything, her expression instead softening. The longer they sat there, the more Rosie grew confused. Ona’s expression changed from soft to comforting, as if she knew something Rosie didn’t.

What the fuck was happening?

Was this a present from Mari? Working for Lumos, Mari had met all of the players multiple times, and it wasn’t unlike her to go out of her way to organise her meeting the one person she loved most in the WOSO world.

“I… I.. d..did Mari send you?” she managed to whisper.

Ona hesitated and then slowly nodded.

“She said she’d be here soon..”

Ona didn’t say anything else. Her facial expression slowly fell into a softer, and almost guilty face. Until that’s all it was. Guilt. Comfort. Apologies.

Rosie looked down on her wrist and saw a red bracelet.

Fuck.

A tear fell down one of her cheeks. Ona’s bottom lip trembled and she reached out, offering her hand to take. She couldn’t move just yet.

Fuck.

Mari-Ona.

The person she’d fallen in love with, was Ona.

[eyneyke]

Twitch stream

Pairing: Max Verstappen x PewDiePie!sibling Summary: What if Felix had a genius brother who works as a RedBull's engineer and is also secretly dating Max part 16 of A Calm to my Storm Masterlist

It was winter break for the F1 drivers, and after a long season, everyone was ready for some downtime. Max had stayed in Monaco while Sam had flown back to the UK to spend Christmas with Felix, Marzia, and family. Even though they were miles apart, Max and Sam still stayed connected, their secret relationship thriving through video calls and texting.

One evening, Max had joined a Twitch gaming session with Charles, Lando, George, and Alex. The five of them had been streaming regularly during the break, and fans were absolutely loving the dynamic between them. However, tonight, they decided to try out a new game but they were one player short for a team game.

"We need one more person," Lando groaned. "We can't start without a full squad and no, George, I don't want a random in our team!"

Max, who had been quietly listening, suddenly perked up. "I can call Sam if you guys are okay with that, he should be free," he said, a glint in his eye that nobody could see over their screens.

The others immediately agreed, eager to include Sam in their stream. Fans, too, were flooding the chat with excitement. Everyone now knew who Sam was, that Sam Kjellberg was not only Max’s engineer but had recently become a beloved figure in the gaming community, especially after all the attention he got in Felix’s live streams.

Max pulled out his phone and dialled Sam, putting it on speaker so the others could hear.

"Hey," Sam’s voice answered, sounding relaxed. "What’s up?"

"We’re short a player for a game," Max explained. "Think you can jump in for a bit? I need a teammate. It's for a Twitch stream, so please cover those arms of yours." He adds with a laugh.

Sam chuckled on the other end. "Alright, give me a second to turn my computer on and find a shirt. I’ll hop on. Send me the game and a link for the stream."

Max leaned back in his chair, grinning as he waited for Sam to join. "Oh, and turn on your webcam. Charles is streaming, and we all know how much the fans love you."

The other drivers laughed as Sam sighed dramatically. "Fine, fine. But if I look tired, blame it on Felix and Marzia for keeping me up with all the holiday prep."

Soon enough, Sam’s voice came through their headphones, and his webcam lit up in Charles’s stream. The chat exploded the moment Sam appeared, wearing a comfortable hoodie and looking as relaxed as ever, despite having just jumped into a live stream.

"Sam!" Charles exclaimed with a grin. "Good to have you, mate."

"Good to be here," Sam replied, already sounding like he was in the zone for the game. "What are we playing?"

Max quickly explained the game rules, and before long, the teams were set. Unsurprisingly, Max and Sam ended up on the same team.

As the match started, the camaraderie between the drivers and Sam was infectious. Max and Sam’s teamwork was flawless, and the more they played, the more the chat filled with comments about how well they worked together. Fans were loving it, not only because Sam was skilled, but also because of how relaxed and natural his interactions with Max were.

"You know," George remarked at one point during the stream, "I feel like Max plays more fair when Sam’s around."

Max laughed. "Maybe because I know I will get completely obliterated if this one even smells me anywhere near cheating."

Sam smirked, his voice laced with teasing. "Don’t get too cocky, Max. I’ll still roast you, win or lose."

The banter between them flowed effortlessly, making it clear just how close they were. But while the rest of the drivers and fans only saw them as friends, Max and Sam knew there was a lot more going on beneath the surface.

As the game went on, the chat kept filling with comments about how fun it was to watch Sam and Max together. People started joking that Sam was the reason for Max’s success in F1—not because of his engineering skills, but because of how well they played FIFA together.

"You should join our streams more often," Charles said as they wrapped up a match. "Fans are going crazy."

"Yeah," Lando added with a grin. "You’ve got the chat all excited again, Sam. They’ve missed you. Next time though I will bring Max F with me, because George mate, you suck."

Sam chuckled, clearly enjoying the attention. "Maybe I will. If Max can survive a few more matches, that is."

Max shot a playful glare at the screen. "Watch it, Kjellberg."

By the end of the stream, the vibe was lighthearted and fun, with Sam fitting in seamlessly with the rest of the drivers. As they signed off for the night, fans couldn’t stop talking about how much they enjoyed the surprise guest appearance.

As for Max, he was just happy to spend some time with Sam, even if it was through a computer screen. They may have been keeping their relationship a secret, but moments like these—where they could be close, even in front of the whole world—made it all the more special.

Once the stream ended and the cameras were off, Max shot Sam a quick message: That was fun. Miss you, though.

Sam’s reply came almost immediately: Miss you too. See you soon tho.

[mamiya-a]

Playing dangerous

Mother Miranda/reader

Warning for explicit content.

Chapter 14: Love

Summary:

"Love is nothing else but an insatiable thirst of enjoying a greedily desired object." - Michel de Montaigne.

Miranda doesn't like her situation, at all. Neither her current weak position on that matter. She would easily say and show her clear hatred towards the happening, if it weren't for her pride whispering into her ears, honey covered words telling her she can endure it. Although, with every passing second she gets angrier, a rare feeling, given her eagerness for participation. She blinks rapidly, questioning if rushing out of this quickly put together trap is worth the trouble. Of course not, she came here willingly. Yet the purpose of her visit has lost its sense.

Miranda can feel thickness of darkness landing upon her body, though she feels more like a corpse currently, it's enough to keep her awake and sane. The devoid of light has never been a problem to her, but eyes can easily betray the brain. The picture of an unknown room is clearly, an empty box she has found herself trapped in, however it hurts her to acknowledge she's alone. Loneliness is a trait she often suffers from. Swallowing it is a kid's game, but knowing that someone you love has left you on purpose is another question.

Waiting for Mia is a long, boring tragedy. Miranda would say exhausting if she were a normal human. Which she's not, which Mia loves. Owning her rare obedience is a strange pleasure for the younger women. That's why she feels no guilt in locking her so called lover in a trap she can escape, but won't - simply because she has been instructed to behave. That's why Miranda's mobility is limited too. With her stomach pressed to a significantly soft bed, head buried in pillows and arms wrapping with tight rope, she can't do anything else but to wait.

It's raining outside. Every drop of salty sky water hits the ground relentlessly, causing an echo inside the overall silent room. Miranda uses each droplet to count the minutes , spent in pure darkness and solitude. Her mind even starts to wonder if this is some kind of punishment Mia is forcing upon her, after hearing the news that the blonde woman wishes to cut their relationship. This time entirely. Thinking about this makes her pale skin itchy, the rope is squeezing her wrists too tightly, three layers of scrappy robes are covering her uncomfortably and her hair is spilling around her face. Everything is irritating her, everything is too stimulating. The sounds of the rain and the emptiness of the bedroom. Nothing and everything merging together to spin her head to the point of dizziness.

Then the door opens. It's strange how the morally evil woman brings light into Miranda's universe. It's pure manipulation, of course. A very precisely calculated tactic - to drawn the helpless woman to the point of pity and immediately after hit her with illuminating care. Mia's strings of love are twisted, but not enough since they crave to capture another soul into them. And Miranda has made the mistake to allow this. The yellow light ,coming from another room, quickly dies. Mia replaces it by turning on a lamp , strong enough to illuminate the bedroom. A curved smile appears on her face once she gets assured Miranda has followed her instructions and is just like she left her. At her mercy, that is.

"Obedient as always." - Mia's comment is unnecessary polite. The other women tries her best to stay calm, yet something is the thick air is suggests an unpleasant event. The brunette's steps get closer and closer until her entire body stops beside the bed. Miranda shifts her head to a side only to be able to witness the placing of a knife and few candles, which Mia places on the left nightstand. Blue eyes sharpen, staring at the objects, trying to understand their need. - "I hope you're not awaiting a reward, not after..."

"Is that why you made me wait?" - Mia's face obtains an angry expression upon being cut from her right to speak. Miranda's voice is louder than usual, hinting her actual opinion towards the happening and perhaps the woman beside her. She pulls on the ropes, earning herself a click of the brunette's tongue. Rage is certainly a burning emotion. - "For candles? I'm not in the mood to play, Mia, so will you stop with-"

"Ethan...keeps on noticing  a different scent on me." - with a fake, forced smile Mia begins to explain. Blue eyes tracking her every move as her hand searches for something inside her pocket. Soon enough she pulls out a lighter. - "I don't know what kind of perfume you're using, but it's strong, Miri." - the younger woman's quick fingers manage to fire up the waiting to ignite tips of the candles. After a few sniffs Miranda acknowledges they're scented. She cannot exactly find out the origin, however it's something floral  and unexpectedly strong. - "And we can't have him finding out about us, can we?"

Ethan Winters. The man who's last name Mia proudly wears as her own. Her chosen lover, her partner is life, her husband. The enemy in Miranda's eyes. With the passing years she realised she cannot replace him, no matter how much she tries, how much she submits to Mia or try to win her over. Everything she has wrapped her claws around are the mere words of love her colleague has whispered to her in moments of passion. Useless hope, with no room for justice. It took Miranda a while but now she sees it clearly. If Mia were to desire it she would never show up in her life again. Like a cold statue without a beating heart, which the blonde keeps on hugging, craving for crumbs of warmth. Isn't that the reason she came here? To Mia's family house, shared with her husband, in order to end it all and forever. Yet she found herself out of luck. Ethan was absent, which allowed Mia to drag her into her bed again, the bed she shares with the poor man.

A realisation slowly builds up inside Miranda's mind. Mia is inescapable. She's trapped - both physically and mentally. It makes her...weak.

"You think he would get suspicious if you just told him you've got yourself a new perfume?" - the blonde's voice is changed. The irritation has been replaced with calmness. To Mia, however, her tone is filled with annoying audacity to argue. So much for her forced obedience. The younger woman scoffs, her smile daring to disappear.

"You just can't stop yourself and your...solutions, can you?" - as if their roles has been replaced, Mia is now the angry one. She finds the knife from earlier without mich struggle. Miranda senses her idea, but fails to stop her. A second later the room fills up with awful sounds of tearing fabric. A hissing noise escapes the blonde woman's lips, her bare back now completely exposed. - "Can't even keep her mouth shut." - a final whisper before the tip of the knife presses it's sharpness to Miranda's lower back.

"Mia." - although Miranda speaks her name in attempt to confront her, the other woman can't help herself but bite her lower lip. She enjoys her name being repeated in such voice, especially now when she knows there's no excitement behind her tone. Only discomfort, or in her eyes - fear. She knows Miranda would never actually be afraid of her, but she settles to believe it. The knife continues down, forcing out another hiss, it's sharpness following the many layers of robes, but not with the intention to ruin them as well.

"I love it when you wear those fancy ceremonial clothes. Always forcing your authority on others." - the dark colours, the elements of the late lords, who died from Miranda's hand, the pure drama of her outfit - with the crow feathers and many fabrics, piling up on each other, offering a fake vision of a priestess's image is undeniable consuming. Mia loves it because it shows how much power Miranda has, and how much she's ready to throw away just for the brunette's attention alone. Now, however, she can't hide her anger of seeing her chosen outfit. After all her little, shackled village has been long fallen to ruins, along with her followers. Miranda has no reason to wear this old clothes. Yet she has done it - only to show her power and maturity. And maybe to restore something that has been dead for years - the respect Mia once had for her. - "Is that why you came dressed like that? To scare us?" - Mia makes a pause, giving herself enough time to lean over Miranda's head and to speak to her in a whisper. - "or...maybe to seek control?" - she smiles. - "the control you granted me."

"...You're crossing a line, Mia." - it's a weak attempt for a warning, even Miranda realises that after the sentence leaves her dry throat. The line she's speaking of is practically non-existent, and if it had sides, both of them would agree Mia is the one holding the stronger one. She easily mixes her own domination over Miranda and she knows which buttons to press just enough to anger her, knowing that even then she won't find out. Even currently, when their relationship is more than questionable and none of them is sure what to call it. Professionalism and love are already forgotten about.

"Am I really?" - her breath is hot against Miranda's ear. It makes her head dizzy all over again. - "You're the one allowing this to happen, Miri." - Mia moves back, somehow reminded her informal lover how to breathe normally. The blonde woman takes a good look at her shackled, probably bruised wrists from the ropes and sighs. She finds herself very close to ripping them. Just before that, however, Mia changes the position of the knife - this time pressing it at the space between her shoulder blades, where the black veins like curves are the thickest. This motion forces Miranda to choke. Mia knows any touch with more pressure against her back feels like playing with her bare spine, yet the younger woman doesn't think of stopping. - "Just look at you...I wonder what all those who have fallen dead at your feet will say about you now...cold, relentless...mad." - Mia describes a version of Miranda that she herself has forgotten about, once reunited with her daughter. The brunette doesn't fail to remind her just how ruthless she was. - "A murder hidden under the skin of a god. What would your daughter think of you?"

Miranda's rage is more than expected. Eva is the real end line for her. But Mia knows her well, too well. A reaction is almost unnecessary. All she does is wrap her fingers around thin layers of honey coloured hair and twist, while also pushing down so Miranda's face can stay buried in the pillows. This way her weak screams come out muffled and secured while Mia drags the knife over her sensitive back. She only stops once her crimson blood becomes a visible paint on the blank canvas of her skin.

"Mia...Mia..." - all that's left to fill up the room now is soft, almost silent whispers of a name, too nicely sounding for an evil woman like its carrier. The knife is gone after few repeats of that name. Now Miranda sees it laying calmly next to the candles, which are burning with might, filling their glass jars with melted wax. - "Can you...stop this already? I'm tired." - for a split second Mia allows herself to show mercy, her heart beating irregularly at the view of tears running down her informal lover's face. Then she remembers herself and her needs. Full control over the woman, who controls everyone.

"Not before you show me your wings, pretty bird." - it is a command. Mixed with fake love. Mia is one of very few people Miranda has allowed to know about her great weakness. It's satirical - how her strongest and most recognisable ability, her glorious dark wings, ten at the count, are also the thing able to force her to throw up from pain, which she usually doesn't even feel. Although Miranda hasn't really been thinking about her mistake of sharing this knowledge with Mia. Until now, since she's forcing it versus her. Yet, she can't bring herself to be disobedient.

A loud sound, awfully familiar to bones cracking, echoes through the room, soon filing it to the brim. Mia watches in interest as Miranda's back wrinkles to the point of breaking skin, pouring more blood to the already weird looking piece of dark art on it. Few seconds later and her curious eyes meet up with tons of tar black feathers, exploding out of the open wounds. Mia takes a step back as the wings, strongly resembling the ones of a crow, tend to grow quite large in size. It's fascinating, the unusual nature of the blonde woman laying helpless on the bed. It's exciting to play with it, to experiment, to pull and twist until you get a reaction out of her. Mia doesn't stop the new waves of torture upon Miranda until she cries out again, few broken feathers spreading around the floor.

"Don't tell me you can't endure a little pain, Miri?" - her voice is more than just mocking. She enjoys the show before her like an actual spectacle in a circle, with the bonus that she's the one deciding the presented tricks. - "I  thought you said this could be arousing for you?" - a memory pops up inside her mind. In the heat of passioned rolling in the sheets Miranda declared her liking to showing her true nature in bed. Just thinking how many times she came that night while Mia stimulated her additionally is outrageous. So long ago, the brunette's principals have changed.

"Only when you're gentle." - Miranda hisses back in response, her own mind wandering in the same shared memory. All she feels now is pain, not even the good type of pain she doesn't mind receiving from time to time. This is a lot, much more than the usual toughness between them. Mia roots out another large feather, gently caressing her cheek before tossing it to the ground. - "...you're anything but that, Mia."

"Please, 'gentle' stopped working for you long ago." - Miranda silence herself by biting her lip. Mia's words are not entirely false, but that gentleness she's talking about the blonde interprets like a way of distance between the two of them. A relationship that started with innocent glares and small love incidents, such as touching hands or bumping into eachother, has now formed into a circle of hate and desire, completely built on lies and difficulties.   - "Tell me if I lift your robes and allow myself to explore will I find you already soaked, love?" - Mia speaks with confidence. Instead of keeping to her words, however, her hand moves to the nightstand, from where she swiftly grabs a green coloured candle. The scent is intoxicating. - "Or should I try harder to get you in the mood?"

"Mia, stop this, stop it, Mia-" - there's a hint of panic in Miranda's voice, her eyes so focused on the woman beside her they might count as unmovable. She gasps as Mia uses one hand to spreads her large wings to a maximum. The other brings the candy impossibly close, allowing the blonde woman to acknowledge the heat of the flame. - "You're mad, Mia, you truly are-"

"Yet you're the one trying to deny me?" - the brunette hisses - "When we both know you're mine." - all the previous pain doesn't compare to the dripping, hot wax hitting her back. It's torture. Her wings loose their glorious shape, they tilt down, as if surrounding themselves. Miranda's nails dig so hard into her palms, which forces yet another part of her body to bleed. Her mouth reminds open, eyes shut, anger forcing a dark line between her eyebrows. At least the wave is quick to wash off. That's until Mia grabs another candle and while pouring its melted wax all over her wounded back she begins to whisper in her ears again. - "I love you, Miranda, I love you so much.."

These words. That poisonous feeling.

I love you.

How can love hurt this badly?

.

.

.

"Mommy?" - a different voice echoes through Miranda's head. This one is sweet, innocent, devoid of evilness and painful ideas. It belongs to a child, she's certain. She blinks, droplets of salty tears are now evaporating from her cheeks and finally she allows herself to relax. A warm feeling explodes inside her chest, her arms trembling as she tries to lift them. The room around her, although entirely changed, remains dark. The world has shifted and she finds herself in another timeline, long forgetting. One that shouldn't be alive. In which Eva shouldn't be alive, yet there she stands - calmly laying in her bed, covered in every blanket Miranda could find in her tiny house. - "mommy, are you okay?"

Her daughter calls out for her again. Then Miranda's whole attention falls on her. Every memory of Mia and her awful torture is gone by the second her child's tiny hand searches for her. The woman grabs it, however her face doesn't shines up with happiness as it should. Eva barely moves her upper limb, not to mention it happens with a painful groan. Then the reality hits her. Miranda hates to go through this again but she has to acknowledge it. Eva is dying. And judging by her state the sickness has taken the bigger part of her body and consciousness. She grips her daughter's hand, in hope to transfer the suffering to herself.

"Yes, I'm fine, little dove." - Miranda assures her, tenderly cupping her cheeks, thumbs brushing against her pale skin. Eva sighs, enjoying her mother's loving touch, while trying to ignore the burning feeling building up in her lungs. At some point it overflows and she begins to cough, strong and dry, she struggles to take a breath. Miranda's motherly instincts immediately kick in, helping her up and allowing her to sit straight. She rubs her back, reminding her to try and breathe through her nose. Finally Eva sucks in a flow of fresh air. However as this happens she bares her teeth and quickly places her palms together, under her chin. Thick clouds of blood begin to pour from between her dry lips and she struggles to collect it, allowing it to drip to her bedsheets. It's not surprising they are already stained from a similar recent events.

Miranda's nightmares are standing right in front of her again. Staring at her blue eyes with a relentless sharpness. Eva begins to cry. Her sobs mix with the rapid banging of her mother's hearts against her weak ribcage. The woman fears it might break it and her body as a whole. Unconsciously she lets go of her daughter's hand, glare still fixed to her crying expression. It's painful to watch her struggle and to be helpless. It's not her fault. She keeps on telling herself. She's not guilty. He is. But then again. The mother has to bear the burden of her child dying, doesn't she? The father is absent, which for their case is better. A mother must be strong, but when she find herself in ruins...what hope is left for the daughter? None.

"Mommy?" - a weak call.

"Yes, Eva?" - a forced reply.

"Do you love me?." - these words again. With Mia they felt like an obligation, with Eva they feel like an undone promise. Miranda would keep on loving her daughter, even if she turned into a walking corpse. She puts a hand on her shoulder, aiming to show her the support she needs. This action leaves her terrified as the girl screams in pain. Just a second is enough for the woman to realise her child's body is much weaker than it seems and even the softest touch can harm. More tears occupy Eva's eyes. - "I won't blame you if you stop...I won't blame you if you decide to love another daughter...after all it's too late for me, isn't it?"

"No, Eva, I'll always love you." - she declares, her arms shaking. She knows putting them anywhere around the girl is dangerous, but keeping them to herself seems selfish. Their eyes meet, the blue of the ocean seeking its twin in the sky again. It's a tragedy they're destined to never touch. That's why Miranda decides to keep her touch to herself. - "no matter what happens I'll be with you and I'll find a way for you to be with me." - a pause, filled with fear and more tears. A hopeless assurance. - "I promise you, little dove."

"Just us?" - lying to her is like cutting off her still growing wings, however given her sickness she's never ment to fly anyway. Miranda would be happy if Eva could become a bird. Like the crows they always feed on the windows. Oh to be one. Freedom is your best of friend. You can travel the world and not worry for a single thing. If you get lucky enough you'll even find yourself a group of winged friends. A family.

"Just us." - they both smile at eachother. Eva is calm enough to lay back down on her uncomfortable bed. Miranda on the other hand starts to pile her with different questions. If she's hungry, if she's thirsty, if she wants something, if she's sleepy, if she should just leave her alone... Eva shakes her head to each of them. Currently she only desires to break the massive clock responsible for the passing time all around the world and stay in this moment forever. The girl hates change. But surely she's changing. Change means death in a lot of interpretations. And her own...is just around the corner. She knows this is will hurt her mother - the only person able to show pure love. She can't risk that for the selfish act of pushing forward. She's ready to sacrifice time. Yet she's no god, neither is Miranda.

Eva begins to cough again. This time is worse. With every try for a full breath more and more liquid blood drips out of her mouth. It's suffocating. The panic is her mother's eyes is a sure sign this is her last struggle. Soon the girls body begins to shake. Miranda screams. The world goes even darker. When the woman finally allows herself to touch her , she regrets it immediately. Eva's body begins to rot, falling apart with every rushed caress. It's a nightmare, it's hell, it's death. The hour of her death. The clock can't be stopped. Miranda cannot bear it. That annoying yet familiar feeling of pure acid burning her throat overfills her and she wraps a hand at the base of her throat. She curse herself for running away, but something inside her tells her Eva understands well and doesn't judge.

Miranda's legs don't feel real as she sprints through her small house, then her home town, full of people that despise her, and finally they give up just as she enters a thick labyrinth of trees. She allows herself to rest against one, her chest falling up and down rapidly, as she's out breath. The group is wet and sticky, dirty and covered with dark dirt as she hits it hard. She pulls on her hair, threatening to rip it off completely. Her nails travel around her skin, guilty anger leaving behind red lines. She screams again and again to the point of vomiting and being dizzy. Then she begins to sob, hugging her knees tightly to her breasts. She's helpless yet again.

Then she sees something between the many dead looking trees. It's quickly recognisable. With thick fur, long straight legs, bulging eyes, and curved antlers, the deer is not difficult to spot. Every knowledge she has about this animal is proven to be wrong, because instead of running away in fear the glorious looking deer takes few steps forward. Soon enough it stands directly in front of Miranda. She thinks of it as blind, judging by the lack of colour in it's eyes. Her own oceans stare at it for a long time, until the animal decides to carefully lay down beside her. Miranda's breath hitches, not knowing what to expect from the wild life. Her lips slightly part and she breaks with her fear in order to shape a sentence.

"What do you want from me?" - what a familiar question.

*****

Reality's weight is heavier than expected. Miranda quietly groans once her eyelids twitch, triggered by her awakening. It's rare for her to dream,  though when it happens there's nothing special about it - just nightmares, mixed with old, depressing memories. It's exhausting really, even after so many years the back of her head is  still pulsating with dull pain, due to her consciousness getting overwhelmed. Few draining moments pass before she starts to acknowledge how the bedsheets are touching her, how the bigger part of your shared blanket is pulled and crushed from her fists, despite her ability to be unbothered by the cold.

Rays of sunlight force her eyes to snap open, rapidly sending panicked glares around the room. It's morning, early, calming melodies of singing birds outside are a sure sign of it. Miranda notices an open window, which she doesn't remember leaving like that before bed. It seems like most of her habits have been transformed to you and she's more than thankful. There's nothing more relaxing than taking a deep breath of clean, morning air. It helps with her nerves, especially now. A light breeze rolls in from outside, gently caressing her cheeks. Then she raises her numb hands, her thin fingers running across her skin, where they find wet drops of tears. How disgusting, how weak. The salty droplets are pure history once she brushes them gone with the back of her hands.

The blonde woman stays like frozen, eyes unfocused around the room. Despite her desire to be alone in such moments of weakness she easily senses your presence. Miranda shifts, her body following her head immediately after she turns to face you. She smiles, it's genuine. And there you are - sat silently beside her, fingers rubbing your chin while you look intensely at your phone, clearly reading something as your eyes are traveling up and down the screen. The woman notes it as unpleasant, judging by your slightly worried expression. You manage to sigh just before she moves impossibly close to you. There's no room for words or orders between the two of you. Miranda finds her position by shoving her head onto your chest, while you move to hands aside, giving her enough space to do so. Once settled, the woman almost purrs while you run careful fingers through her messy, but surprisingly not tangled hair.

"Good morning, Mira." - you voice out low enough not to startle her. Although you're still mainly focused on your phone, you can't stop yourself from looking down. She has her eyes close, nose buried somewhere near the collar of your shirt as she tries to breathe in your scent. Said shirt is not even yours, but you know very well she enjoys it when you decide to wear something from her own wardrobe, even if it's just for sleeping. - "Slept well?"

"What are you reading?" - Miranda completely ignores your question, clearly not showing interest in telling you about her nightmares. You let her be, scrolling to the top of the document you're putting your whole attention to. She jerks her head upwards, trying to steal a look as well. You bring your phone closer, purely for her comfort. She goes through the very first sentences and bites her lip. - "...you father."

"After so much waiting I finally receive a report about his current condition." - you take a pause, locking and tossing your phone aside. - "Only to be assured he's getting worse." - although it's rather hard for her to show empathy, she tries her best. Miranda hugs you tightly, gladly accepting your hands, which wrap uncomfortable around her back, triggering her but not enough to acknowledge it. - "they say  his heart is weak and they don't know... if he's going to make it this time."

With the ridiculous amount of money Miranda pays you, his hospital bills have been almost entirety paid, yet those doctors are still playing games with you. They never suggest a solution, just pills or more bad news, more complications. But can you even blame them? They probably are as clueless as you are. Even if you speed your way to graduating university and gaining a medical title, would you be even able to do something different than them? If your father is still alive, that is.

"You worry too much." - part of you gets mad at her comment, you even pull away when she tries to connect her lips with yours. A scoff is all you get before she places a kiss to your cheekbone. - "it's going to eat you alive, darling, you should stop."

"Then what am I supposed to do?" - you're not capable of helping. She's right as always, the helpless feeling is eating you alive. - "just pray for him?" - you've done that already. Gods are either deaf or ruthless. Perhaps both, because an answer, a blessing from them has always been absent.

"Believe in him, it's all you can do, isn't it?" - you can't decide if she's being satire or for real, yet you melt once she shifts again, somehow managing to sit straight in your lap. Her hands cups your cheeks and this time you allow her the kiss she's so eagerly searching for. Her lips ghost above yours, almost in a teasing manner, as she speaks again. - "...maybe... he'll happen upon a miracle."

Miranda's suggestion weirdly reminds you of your own 'miracle' - this job surely feels like a blessing. And the only God, who seems real, is your beloved blonde woman herself.

.

.

.

The scene around you is awfully comforting. Nice waves of warmth occupy your lower body, due to a soft blanket, placed carefully above your legs. The clock on the wall loudly announces it's almost lunch. Nobody is bothered, including you. You're sat on the large sofa in the living room, entirely immersed in your studies. Your attention span locked between textbooks and Miranda's soft voice, while she corrects or adds something to your private lesson. The television is on, however you don't find it distracting. It's only working to entertain Eva, who's a bit annoyed. Unable to escape from her mother's lap , she stays still while watching whatever movie plays in front of her. The poor girl hasn't been able to escape Miranda's embrace from early in the morning till now, as if the woman needs to be glued to her. It's strange for both you and Eva, but you choose not to address it since you both know Miranda expresses her love differently. From time to time she brushes a tender hand through the girl's golden hair, as If to assure herself Eva's real.

In between this proximity, though the blonde woman has decided to multitask. And by that she means torturing you. It's not something bad, really, but forcing you cover a large amount of study material, while correcting you on every second sentence or adding more and more information for you to remember, is surely a lot more than you usually do to prepare for upcoming exams. At least she's a master in her craft, her given details are a free gift you gladly accept. It would be a nice study session if your mind wasn't so unfocused.

"You're not paying enough attention." - her sharp comment pulls you out of a trance, which you fail to realise you've gotten yourself into. Her hand lands on your shoulder. You're sure it's mentioned to comfort you, but her action only brings you more stress. - "We've covered this material already and the questions are not hard, darling, come on." - she taps on your open exam book. She's correct. Closed questions as the current, with given answers to choose the right one from are a child's play. Yet when you voice out your opinion, Miranda gives you a pitiful look. - "Wrong again."

"Fucking bullshit..." - you curse out, starting out loud but then lowering the volume as you're reminded of Eva's presence.

"Language." - like the serious  mother she is Miranda gives you a warning, accompanied by a mean glare. You swear one day her dark blue eyes are going to cut out holes in your skin. Until then her nails might do the job instead. As if to punish you she digs them into your shoulder, sighing. You roll your eyes at her next comment. - "There's no need to be vulgar."

"Sorry..." - you whisper out. Miranda is not the one to tolerate casual cursing around her house. You've almost never heard her voice out some herself. Expect when she's in bed with you but that's another story you've both decided not to talk about. You quickly find the problem in the current situation. Eva shouldn't be exposed to your out of place words, the blonde woman aims to show you this by tilting her head towards the girl. - "You've heard nothing, Eva."

"Heard what now?" - and just like that Miranda's daughter snaps out of her careful observation of the movie and turns to you. A large smile appears on your lips, while Miranda only scoffs. Of course the girl can't be even bothered to pay any attention to the happening around her, to the things, which don't concern her.

"Love that kid." - you laugh out, deciding it's finally time for a break. Miranda on the other side stops you just before you can manage to close your textbooks and stand up. The corner of her lips are slightly stretched downwards, her eyebrows furrowed as she's clearly not pleased. When she reopens your textbooks you realise it's not because of her daughter hearing bad words, but purely because of your awful performance with the easiest of tests. You decide to be honest with her, praying she'll understand. - "I'm getting tired of studying, can we take a break, Mira?" - you don't forget to add an additional 'please' just to increase your chances. 

"You've achieved nothing today." - Rude. You swallow, not having the energy to defend yourself. - "I don't understand what's stopping you from focusing?" - this makes you bite your lower lip, turning your head to a side. Escaping her burning eyes.

"Miranda, I can't just forget about- " - you're forced to stop, sensing an incoming voice crack. Emotions are a cruel thing. Even without the clear vision of your father suffering alone, imagining him it's enough to make your throat dry. You take a deep breath in, trying to form an argument. Any trace of anger is gone from her face once you collect enough courage to look at her. - "Tell me how can I focus when my father is out there, dying alone, and I can't do anything to help him?"

"Darling, I told you to not-"

"Put yourself in my shoes." - your slightly louder tone catches even Eva's attention, who gives you a bored glare.  - "it's not endurable to even imagine the pain in your body while you watch your only family die, because you're simply not enough to help.!" - with this you manage to gag her completely. A line is even crossed, as Miranda wraps a hand around her throat, her other one pulling Eva closer. The little girl obtains a worried expression and you swallow, realising you've said too much of your worries. - "...at least try to understand."

For the first time you're given an amazing example of judgement. Both mother and daughter swiftly turn to you, with no room for consideration. Two dark bullets bang against your chest, forcing you swallow a painful lump in your throat. This thread is minimal since it's quickly followed by two more angry eyes, lighter in color but just as fierce. It's a curious abnormality. After few seconds the inseparable family members give eachother a look, mutually deciding to not address the topic or you angry outburst. Perhaps you've hit a nerve, completely unaware of its existence. Miranda leans to whisper in Eva's ear, which leads the girl to change sitting positions - crawling out of her mother's lap, allowing her to eventually move freely. Which she does. The blonde woman stands up, covered in silence, then she extends an arm, giving you little to no time to consider taking it.

Miranda walks rapidly as always. She easily guides you, or more like drags you behind her as you fail to catch up fast enough, through the mansion. Lucky for you this home of many rooms and corridors has turned to a familiarity, so you quickly understand you're being lead to the library. You find yourself surrounded by many bookshelves, piled up with more study materials, just as the echoing sound of heels hitting clear flooring disappears. Even with large, open windows, devoid of curtains - big part, combined with many distant edges, of the room remains chillingly dark. At least it's quiet. You manage to hear Miranda murmuring about a better atmosphere for studying. Your hands curl up and tighten in fists.

But then you get surprised. Instead of rushing you into more memorising, the blonde woman simply tosses your textbooks to an empty table and settles down on the puffy sofa opposite of the paper screen you use on casual movie nights. Her hand lifts up to take most of her forehead as she sighs with closed eyes. You stay frozen in place, unable to complete the puzzle. Miranda is yet again acting out those strange scenes, which leave you more than confused. This time however the usual headache is missing and you're somehow calm. An unexpected laughter startles you,  thought you're more interested in what exactly Miranda is finding funny.

"Darling, I understand you more than well... that's why I brought you here." - her alluring voice settles to almost whispering in the second part of her sentence. Miranda lifts up her head, chin proudly pointing at you while she pats a seat next to her, silently inviting you to sit. Her perfect set of white teeth is appealing. - "come to me, little deer."

"Look...Mira..." - you start unsurely, using her own cards against her by calling her by the chosen nickname - "I'm sorry for... reacting in such a way, but my head is truly a mess right now and I can't just ignore everything, you know?" - the woman nods, severely happy as you take a step in her direction.

"I know, darling." - Miranda is quick to spread out her arms  once you get close enough to bend down and wrap yourself in her embrace. The sweet scent of her perfume is one reason for you head to be shoved in the crook of her neck. - "You can tell me more, I'm all ears."

"It's so unfair." - you fiercely point out, reminding yourself that Miranda is not a stress doll and the way you're starting to squeeze her, out of self anger, shouldn't be allowed. You decide to keep yourself locked in the right hug, but slowly move to a side so you can actually take a position of sitting next to her. - "I've carried so much guilt for the passing of my mother, but it seems like that alone...is not enough to satisfy death." - you bare your teeth - "Why should I feel equally guilty and useless over matters I can't control?"

"It's not your fault." - you allow the blonde woman to put you in an angle, where your head is rested somewhere between her shoulder and chest. You curl up next to her, covering yourself in her warmth and comfort. - "It never was and It will never be." - her long fingers, strangely not covered in their usual metal accessories, trace the path of your jawline. - "Your father loves you...I'm sure your mother did as well."

"They won't save him." - you declare, noticing how your chin slightly shakes, while hot tears gather into your eyes. - "I... won't be able to save him."

"I believe in you." - it would be a crime to say her touch isn't the most comforting feeling in the world. She's careful and sweet, as if she's caressing a baby. Her fingertips brush loosen strands of hair behind your ear, then moving on to cup your cheeks. These actions are almost enough to make you believe as well. Yet your stubbornness, or in this case self doubt, kicks in.

"Miranda." - short but emotionally charged warning. Stopping the discussion here would be nice, since you don't want to be crying your eyes out in front of her.

"Darling." - her sharp response is never too late. You feel burning pressure on your chin. You lift your head up to meet her eyes, strictly following the demands of her fingers. - "I'll tell you this one time - the more you doubt yourself, the more I'm going to push you to success."

The clear declaration, presented as non physical contract,  can be easily spotted in action. Taking her eagerness for you to cover most of this semester's material from today for example. To think of it now, her interest in your studies increased surprisingly fast since this morning, when you received the not so well accepted news about your father and when you began to feel absolutely miserable, which continued for most of the day and....oh. Oh, this woman.

"He's everything I've got." - a world without him would be hell. You can't think of more lovable and understand person, who's always there when you need them, who laughs and cries with you, who supports you in both success and failure, who loves you. Miranda comes awfully close, but... - "Loosing him will leave me alone." - your eyes connect with hers - "I hate to be alone, Miranda."

"My own father died when I was pretty young, soon the same faith followed my mother." - she hums her words out, tapping unable to stay at one place fingers along the edge of the sofa. - "I've been alone for most of my life - it was rather difficult, I had to learn how to take care of myself...to cook, work, survive at last, because at some point I had literally nothing to my name." - it's hard to imagine the filthy rich Miranda struggling with...well anything really. Her story shows exactly how put together she is, and how much she's not really sharing with others.  - "I gave birth alone too, Eva almost wiped me out of existence that day." - although she says it with laughter, you can't miss the way she covers her long healed stomach with one hand, perhaps being too overwhelmed with hurtful memories.

"I'm sorry you had to..." - you suck in a breath, suddenly feeling unsure about how to comfort her. All you can think of is hugging her so tightly, it might happen to be risky for her lungs if you decide to squeeze a little more. - "Life has been unfair to you too, I'm so-"

"Sweet darling, I desire no pity." - she gently grabs your face in soft hands, smiling down at you. Suddenly her lap begins to look much more inviting and comfortable than the sofa itself. If it weren't for your composed tolerance, you would be all over her in a matter of seconds. - "I'm telling you this because I want you to know." - she leans in closer, noses brushing together while her lips ghost over yours. - "Whatever is to happen...you don't have to be alone."

But of course, the universe works in abnormal way. If it was destined for your father to descend with the sun, Miranda will bring less light but equal love with the moon. Is it greedy to desire both at the same time, thought? Is it possible?

"Why are we here, Mira?" - your every instinct is screaming at you to kiss her. Yet your mind keeps on wondering why did she drag you into the library if not for studying?

"I do need to apologise for not letting you express your worries this morning." - you blink, only know realising she has used solitary and comfort as a weapon, in order to make you speak your mind. And you don't even feel angry.  - "I admit I wasn't in my best condition to listen, but neglecting your problems was wrong." - she quickly explains that it became clear to her when you couldn't keep up with your normal focus. - "I didn't want to force you into this matter in front of Eva, however, that's why I I chose the library."

Kissing her now feels right, kissing her now it's a need. You don't try to be gentle or patient. You claim her lips with lust and desperation, she gasps in your mouth, never to refuse you, though. She whispers out your name between millions of kisses, when you move to pay attention to her jaw and neck she even sighs above you, sending a burning thrill to every cell in your body. You want to keep her, have her, consume her, rip off her skin in search for her soul - which you desire to embrace. You know this is impossible, but you're also certain you would never stop trying. Miranda bites her lower lip as your fingers start exploring the skin underneath her shirt, her own hands deep in roots of your hair while she presses your head even further into her neck, enjoying how short of breath you are. Just when you're about to unclip her bra behind her back she suddenly jerks and pushes you off herself, with awful strength. You give her a confused look to which she doesn't respond. All she does is try to fix her clothes, completely ignoring you. You understand her actions soon enough, because the door swings open unexpectedly, at least for you.

"Mommy, your phone!" - Eva rushes to Miranda,  passing by you with ease, as if you don't exist. The blonde woman gives a kind smile to her daughter before taking the device  out of her small, but extremely careful hands. The sudden appearance of the girl is born because of someone calling Miranda. All three of you are confused by the unnamed number, but she picks up anyway.

The phone call is short, yet judging by Miranda's straight face and serious, bossy voice, you can take a hint it's something professional. In the few minutes of communication, the blonde woman barely speaks up, mainly focusing on the information spilling from the other side of the phone. At the end of it , she only asks - 'later today?" , then nods with a bored face. When she hangs up,  Miranda is not surprised to find you and Eva, both waiting to hear about the happening. However, her gaze falls only on you.

"You have won me another group meeting, darling." - you're quickly reminded of your email, which lead to Miranda having many propositions from different companies to work with. Perhaps this will be her lucky one. - "They didn't even leave room for wondering. I have to get ready."

.

.

.

Knocking on Miranda's bedroom door feels out of place. The action sets you back to time when you used be a stranger with this chamber, with this family and mainly - the woman occupying your mind. Now it's different, you're different. Her response is just a hum, letting you know it's okay to come in. You don't wait for a second confirmation. You poke your head inside the room, searching for said blonde woman inside of it. - "It has been almost two hours, you sure you won't be late?"

Strangely you fail to spot her immediately. Signs of her presence are all over the place, some so noticeable they might actually poke your eyes. Starting with her sweet perfume wandering in invisible waves in the air and ending with a pile of rejected clothes from her wardrobe, failed attempts for an outfit. Her open jewelry boxes on the bed work against her as well. Finally you notice few pairs of entirely new heels, which even get you wondering when did she manage to buy them, yet again devoid of use. You're not fast enough to check the bathroom, since the bright lighting from inside quickly washes off and Miranda runs out with a genuine smile.

"I'm ready, darling." - she says, stopping in the centre of the room, as if standing on a podium. - "What do you think?"

You find yourself stunned. Her clothes of choice are incredibly fitting, you're burned with the sense of her beauty. Slender and shapely, yet elegant as always Miranda stands before you in a tailored black suit, the pants hugging her hips tightly, but not uncomfortably by all means,and long legs while the jacket accentuates her figure, the cut emphasizing her waist, nicely accentuating her curves. The crisp white shirt underneath is perfectly buttoned up, a subtle hint of cleavage showing. Her confident stance and commanding aura only add to her stunning presence. It's enough to take your breath away. The woman's long hair is styled in a sleek and sophisticated slick-back hairstyle. The blonde strands are pulled back from her face, allowing her stunning features to shine through. She's not the keenest on makeup, but she has done enough to contour the rich blue colour of her eyes. You allow yourself to start using your lungs normally again once she takes a step further to you, strong metal heel hitting the floor as she does.

"Can you stay home?" - you blurt out, suddenly and without thinking, allowing your rapidly beating heart to make a decision instead of your actual brain. You have to put your hands behind your back, just to stop them from connecting with her.

"Are you joking?" - Miranda asks, worried. She's quick as a flash while turning to her oversized mirror, observing herself. - "I can't look that bad,..right?"

"No! No, you look good, Mira, I promise you." - you voice out, pure excitement rolling off your tongue, as you try to stay composed and not ask for her hand in marriage on the spot. If that would be enough to describe how alluring she actually looked. After all, you dare not stray from your position. - "I'm just not used to seeing you...in a suit, that is."

"Well I don't usually wear one." - she replies with honesty, bringing up her hands to fix dangling, shiny earrings. Despite her addiction for jewelry, currently Miranda's body is awfully limited from said expensive metal accessories. - "But I was informed the group I am to meet will be restricted to one gender only." - she scoffs, rolling her yes. Then she points at the black suit covering her. - "In a room full of men, I aim to fit, not stand out."

You perfectly understand her desire to be less noticeable between her despised men, her hatred towards them is normal, yet it never fails to make you laugh. Now, however, you can't miss the opportunity to tease her.

"No pretty girls to impress, Miranda?" - she turns her head towards you, with a lifted eyebrow. You greet her with a smirk. Although she's rather covered in surprise, she cunningly returns the favour.

"The one pretty girl I want is already in front of me." - you bite your lower lip. Having her confirming her attraction for you is enough to satisfy your every need. Perhaps the only thing missing is her skin against yours, but you know you're going to have to wait for that. - "And I'm certain she's more than just impressed, isn't she?"

Yes, you will definitely struggle while waiting for her to get back home.

*****

It has been one boring, long drive. And when followed by an even more dull meeting you can really loose any social battery. It's what Miranda is currently experiencing, what she's enduring. Another useless team, another hour wasted in observing documents and listening to fake promises for success. Her sparkle of interest is long forgotten about, not like these men were able to reach it anyway. She's yet to find something that pulls you in like her previous company. Miranda still wonders how The connections convinced her to share her undying ideas and professionalism. Perhaps it was the fact that Mia instructed her to everything, perhaps she was too drunk in hope for the rebirth of her daughter. Many different factors, which are sadly missing in her current situation.

Her ears transform into victims of a symphony of annoyance, as the three men trying to over talk themselves begin to increase their voice volumes. Even the angry tapping of her fingers along the curved, metal table is not hearable anymore. She thinks it's funny, how the table is bended in a circle to symbolise equality, yet some members of the group haven't spoken a word since the beginning, not because they don't want to,but because others don't allow it. Miranda's despair overflows her mind and she rolls her eyes with irritation. Two men have been arguing for ten minutes straight and finding a solution between themselves is a hard task, it seems. Just when she's about to let out yet another forced sigh, her phone vibrates with a notification. Surely, more interesting than the happening.

Miranda gives her screen a sharp glare, only for her shoulders to suddenly roll backwards as she carefully reads your name in her mind a few times, just to make sure you're actually texting her. An unexpected saviour. She opens your shared chat without second thoughts. Your messages shines like gold in a dark mine.

I lied.

This one confuses her, though few new ones follow immediately after.

You looked more than simply good, Miranda.

The usage of her full name thrills her. She looks down at herself in order to be reminded of the fancy suit she's wearing. She smiles upon realising the wonders it has done to you alone. Her eyes wander up to check the time. Judging by the already late hour, her daughters must be asleep in bed, which allows her beloved babysitter some time for herself...and her thoughts. Miranda is pleased she's the one to cross your mind. After a little bit of rethinking, she decides to tease.

It's a pity I wasn't good enough for you to force me to stay home. It would have been for the better.

Miranda clearly remembers the path of desire in your eyes from earlier. She curses herself for not acknowledging it then. Your response is a little delayed, but eventually it pops up on her screen. She tries her best to stop the edges of her lips from curling up, not wanting unwanted attention falling on her.

You looked good enough for me to consume. And worship.

Before her thumbs can stretch up to tap on the small keyboard another message makes it's presence clear.

I can't stop thinking about you, Mira. When are you coming home?

You are getting obsessed, darling.

Your eagerness might just make her jump out of her seat and drive home fast enough to catch up before you can go to sleep. Not surprisingly your response comes with unbelievable speed, but Miranda's eyes can even move to read it , she detects her name being spoken. Someone actually voices it out a few more times, which causes her to turn off her phone and turn to that direction.

A man stands opposite of her, trying his best to look tall and mighty. His see through impatience fails him. One single glare from beneath Miranda's eyelashes is enough to break his fake wall of confidence. Choosing to cooperate, however, she lazily rolls a wrist in the air, guiding him into speaking. After a quick clearing of his throat, he does it, voice surprisingly steady.

"As I was saying, in order for both goals to be reached,..and for this meeting to has an actual good end.." - he adds with a murmur, to which Miranda doesn't react. At least not visible, but she makes a mind note of agreement. - "We also need details and information." - the man's hand lands on top of a document folder, rested on the round table, forcing out an unnecessary tud. - "So far we've got nothing."

Before Miranda can even think of answering, another voice joins the conversation. Softer, but much more unsure.

"Ah, what my colleague is trying to say is that..." - she makes a grimace when he blinks with frustration, as if praying for the right words to come. - "We were promised inhuman opportunities, however instead of revealing them you've only stayed silent,.. ma'am."

"Am I obligated to show an example?" - Miranda hums out, getting a bit annoyed. She's sensing doubt... it's unfamiliar to her, yet she can't expect the blind respect and devotion she once received.

"You claim to be an immortal!" - a third man interrupts with a rather loud scoff. She closes her eyes, gathering patience, clearly overwhelmed by the fact that her consumption turned out to be true. - "With your... promised abilities, you're closer to gods than humans." - he sucks in a breath, chin high as the sky. - "So why seek an alliance with us.?"

Miranda chooses to think all these meetings were purely born, because the kind words you put into that original email. But she has never mentioned to you about the existence of a second one, going in much further detail about Miranda's research and skills. She knows for a facts that's the only thing pushing her forward to her final goal. While they can't even be bothered to read your email to the end, she deeply appropriates it.

"Your statement is correct - if I were a god, I wouldn't be here." - she leans forward, placing her elbows on the table, sighing deeply. - "I'd like to cut the chase here. From my own understanding, you're not interested in anything else but what power I possess." - she can only imagine them drooling over the smallest piece of her DNA for experimenting.

"If your strength is what you claim it to be, we can increase it to a maximum and create a new era for humanity-"

"Of course you will." - a forced face shines through her mask of ignorance. How can she forget about the never changing human nature. Her shoulders are rolled back, adding more straightness to her posture. - "I've lived through both world wars, and many more." - Miranda speaks casually, as if those blood drenched events happened just yesterday. Her words force some of the men to share confused words. - "It's curious, you make sure to remember dates and deaths, however you don't learn from history." - a pause. - "And now you think of creating another version of the super soldiers you've craved for years."

"...We're destined for evolution." - the room falls silent for a while. Until Miranda shatters it with a heavy hand.

"You can ruin the world all over again, I'm certain it won't bother me." - she aims to make it clear - even if she's not exactly a god as they think, she's not on their level neither. At the end she'd be the one to survive. - "I have the following preposition - instead of focusing on the people you're going to ascend to your future paradise, you can help the ones you're going to leave behind." - she allows herself to look at almost every unfamiliar face, gaining confidence as she sees hints of consideration. - "Saving people isn't exactly what I do normally, however currently I prefer it." - Miranda doesn't feel obliged to share details of who exactly she's trying to help. Her personal life has nothing to do with these people. - "It's part of my own deal."

The men are filled with hesitation. She holds every single one under a sharp glare. Then the first one, who decided to start a conversation with her, swallows and turns to her.

"We'll listen to you." - with that she's pleased. .

.

.

Unexpectedly the meeting ends well. A deal is made. A contract has been signed. With some additions, for which she's happy noone questioned or denied. Her struggles finally come to an end. And by all means she wishes to go home and have a very nice visit with her bed. And you, of course. As you cross her tired out mind, Miranda quickly pulls out her neglected phone out. Few drops of now starting rain falling on its smooth screen. Miranda rushes to a spot, with the intention to hide from the sky. Can't risk to loose her well deserved cigarette after this exhausting interaction.

The hour is quite late. She mentally notes, while dragging another puff from the cigarette, covering her face in a veil of smoke. She hates to drive during night time, it's unsettling, even for her. She starts to wonder if you're still awake, yet calling you doesn't do it for her, since it would be her last wish to wake you up just to be assured you were sleeping. She unlocks her phone just as a men, familiar from the already finished meeting, walks rapidly past her. The rain is gaining rage, mindlessly hitting the ground with grand droplets. He doesn't look at her, how out of manners. Miranda can't say she's bothered, there's more time for her attention to fix upon the message from before, which she couldn't read on the spot. Once it properly crosses her dark eyes, she smiles, the butt of her cigarette hitting the pavement.

You're an obsession I've already welcomed.

*****

Miranda happens to find her bedroom completely empty. Her bed - devoid of warmth. The room itself - dark and lonely. It's not to her liking, it's triggering her. Because something is clearly missing. You are missing. And she can't even lie to herself, let alone anyone else, that it's way too uncomfortable for her. After a swift second observation, as if her eyes are even able to betray her, she turns on her heel - straight to your own bedroom. She supposes that's the only other place you would be. Her strange ability to track anyone in the near radius confirms it. She's only left to wonder why exactly have you decided to choose your funny sized, compared to hers, bed.

A nice ray of calmness runs through her face once she locks eyes with your sleeping self. Body curled up in soft sheets you look more than cozy. Miranda takes few steps further to your bed. She allows herself to observe you long enough for her chest to tighten. And perhaps for her inner voice to whisper she's being a bit creepy, again...Then she makes up her mind. Miranda tries her best to be dead silent while undressing, clothes too itchy already, too irritating. The jacket from nice fabric hits the floor first. Too tired to care for her outfit getting dirty, she finds no problem with throwing her black pants on top of it too. After removing her bra  as well, she remains only covered by her white shirt. Good enough to mimic pyjamas.

Your bed is certainly less large than her own. She doesn't think it's meant for the both of you. Yet Miranda doesn't face much of an obstacle snuggling nicely behind you. Her long arms stretch out, under the covers, in order to wrap around your waist and pull you closer. She leans into you, her chest pressing to your back, while she shoves her face to the back of your neck. Finally she can feel relaxed. With Mia she never got to enjoy cuddling, for which she has a soft spot, and that lead her to be outrageously touch started. It's not something you can easily get out of her as information, but the way she can't even stops herself from tracing your skin with her nails is enough of a sign. But she overdoses it, since you twitch a few time in your sleep, before slowly opening an eye. Being a light sleeper is another thing you've inherited from her, it seems.

"Mm..what-..." - you murmur out, only to feel a soft kiss, carefully placed on your nape. If the fact that this mansion is in the middle of nowhere was unknown to you, fear from someone breaking in would definitely be present. But you know better. There's only one person who would sneak up on you like that, and you don't seem to mind it.

"I wasn't aiming to wake you up, darling." - Miranda whispers, her hands getting braver and wandering beneath your shirt. She often does this, something about holding you as close as possible. There's a hint of guilt in her voice, because truly this wasn't her intention. A shiver turns down your spine when her lips move up to the shell of your ear, breath hotter than ever. Then she decides to transfer the guilt to you. - "But you weren't in our bed."

"You know I can't sleep without you." - in your defense you did try, but her...your shared bed is just too big for you to be lying there alone. Plus if she's the one with the habit to hold, you enjoy being held , especially in her embrace, so naturally after so many nights of that exact motion - you needed to change the area. You lazily start to turn around, she backs away in order to give you enough space. There's no room for wasting time once you're able to face her. She reaches out first, locking her lips with yours, however you, fully awake now, put much more effort into the kiss. Her hands move to your back, nails digging in your shoulder blades, while your own push her shoulders down, until you shift in such position that has her pinned beneath you. - "I'm glad you're finally home." - you say in between heated kissing, then you add. - "How was your meeting?"

"It's safe to say I've found what I was searching for." - her eyebrow lifts in curiosity as you extend a hand to your nightstand, only to light up a lamp after a bit of search for the button. Now you can see her clearly. - "We just need a bit more time for preparation, before officially starting." - she watches carefully while you adjust yourself to a sitting position, stranding her lower stomach and hips, with your own. Her face lights up when she remembers something. - "Oh, and darling, I wanted to tell you-"

"Respectfully, I would love to listen to you all night, Miranda." - you voice out, eyes locked at her body now instead of her face, she surely looks beautiful under you. - "and don't get me wrong, I'm very happy for you." - you begin to chew on your lip, fingers practically trembling when you bring them to the collar of her shirt, eager to yank it off. - "but I've been waiting for more than I can endure and..." - you pull on the fabric, close to loosing your control. Your eyes lift up to meet hers. - "Can I?"

"All yours, darling." - you're thankful she understands your needs, hearing her consent is a blessing to your ears. You decide to take your sweet time. Your fingers work slowly, unbuttoning her shirt with ease. And just a few seconds later you brush the now open and two sided shirt aside, exposing her bare chest to you. She's breathtaking as always. The observation of her body takes more of your time and attention than usual. Beneath the weak lighting her skin looks extremely inviting. You fear your lower lip might bleed out from the pressure your teeth force on it, once you gain enough consciousness to start touching her properly. Your hands carefully press to her stomach, then you move them to a side, grabbing her waist. Lifting them is pleasant, you get to feel her ribcage and count every single bone there, before you stop at her breasts. Their size is perfect for you since they fit amazingly well into your palms. As you cup them, you can't stop yourself from teasing her a little, just few brushes of your thumbs against her nipples are enough to harden them. It thrills you to the core. Soon your hands find themselves around her throat, which forces her head to be thrown back, and you squeeze. A cold shiver runs down her body, one which even you can feel, combined with a soft gasp from between her lips. How vulnerable she looks right now, all for you. Miranda being so casually yours is alarming and thrilling at the same time. At least she trusts you enough to allow all of this. Only if she knew what exactly runs through your head when she submits herself so easily. Part of you if convinced she knows, because it's Miranda after all.

"Every time, and I mean every fucking time, when we get intimate I'm divided in two." - she hums, not minding it when your fingers lift to press against her lips - in order to silence her for a while and enjoy their softness. - "For some reason I overflow with greedy rage, I want to be mean and hurtful, because a voice in my head is constantly whispering about you deserving it. I don't understand it." - her eyebrows twist in so much confusion and you almost panic, having said too much, but you contain yourself. A bit forced - you continue. - "Then I-...change...I become eager to please you, to make you feel good, show you love and care, be as gentle as I possibly can and... it's what I've told you many times - I just want to treat you right. Like it should be." - words equally overwhelm  and run away from you. Even you start to wonder what exactly you're trying to tell her. All you know it's important, and it's coming from somewhere deep inside of you. The anxious beats of your heart are an easy confirmation. - "Do you think...that's normal, Miranda? I'm obsessed, devoted, ready to worship, but at the same time I feel so-"

"Show me your yearning, precious darling." - Miranda finds the the power to yank you down at her, kissing you with might. Once you loose yourself into her again, she runs her nails down your back, forcing it to form a slight arch. If this continues you're certain you'll be both ruined, yet noone seems to care. Your head fills with rushing blood and in an attempt to loosen the pressure, you shift down to her neck, placing eager open-mouthed kisses, which quickly turn into bites. Miranda holds in a moan, clearly enjoying the roughness you can bring out. Then she curls up a finger under your chin, forcing you to make eye contact. - "I wish to know how it feels like."

Miranda plays with you a bit too much. But that's okay, you love her games. You're not certain what possesses you to show your claim on her out of a sudden, since she's the one to normally leave you covered in marks. Yet both of you groan in pleasure as you begin to descend down her body, lips softly pressing against smooth skin, before nibbling enough for the flesh to redden. On her part, Miranda considers your actions reasonable and she eagerly pushes your head even lower. After a quick awkward adjustment, in order for you to get more space while freezing between her legs, you look up to her. Your almost sure bet of Miranda already glaring down at you doesn't fail. Like usual, her method of silencing moans is a long, curled finger in between her teeth. Although she has been rather quiet for tonight, not like you've started anything yet. A rushed brush through your hair symbolizes her way of convincing you to continue. You can easily remove her underwear and dive into her, but you've never been so close to actually going down on her. Of course you plan on mimicking everything she does, yet you won't be able to feel satisfied with just that. So you wait, fingers hooked at both sides of her panties, while the realisation slowly hits her. For once you're happy she's so good at reading your mind, or maybe you've just gotten too close...

"People do this differently, darling." - Miranda starts to explain, her hand caressing your cheek. You lean into her touch without much of a thought. She then proceeds to lift her upper body up, pressing her back against the bed's headboard. - "But you don't care about other people, do you?" - the smirk on her face is awfully sinful. - "You only want to know what I  like?" - even if her rough tone hints for her sentence to be a formal declaration, you catch up with the small particles for a question.

"Can't please you if you don't show me how." - hasn't it always been like that? You always relying on her guidance. Miranda lets out a hum, oddly resembling a purr. You decide it's finally time to get rid of her underwear, leaving her with only the unbuttoned shirt, which only stays on her back because of the long sleeves. Yet it remains mainly useless, as its idea of coverage is not completed.

"Slowly, I like to enjoy it." - for you is a command, filled with need, for her is a selfish act. Her many times with Mia had a very odd pattern - she was either overstimulated or completely denied, sometimes there was just nothing, just pain, which the other women has decided Miranda deserves. She never got to enjoy her given orgasms. - "Be as messy as you like, I don't mind it." - with that she parts her legs for you, forcing you to swallow. - "Just don't tease...much."

She's bare for your shaking eyes, smooth and soft. When you part her with the help of your fingers, you also note she's aroused by the situation, since you find her clearly glistering. Your head is a spinning mess, while your teeth do your best to distract you by biting the inside of your cheek. Then all reason is throw out of the window. You launch your mouth on her like it's the last thing you'll ever do. She hums, partly in protest, partly in pleasure. It's wrong and you know it, she doesn't directly do this. Miranda always prepares you more than enough - red bites on your thighs, slow sensational licks to your throbbing core until she's satisfied enough to eat her meal. Distracted by your own overthinking, you don't realise how you slowly begin to shift away, thankfully your girlfriend is not known for patience and rushes to bring you back to her.

"Don't make me beg." - Miranda whispers - "I need you."

Perhaps that's the boost, which was till now missing. You concentrate enough, ignoring the captivating energy rushing through your veins and forcing your heart to beat irregularly. This time you approach her with a slow lick, though large enough to almost cover her whole. The flat of your tongue is glued to her wetness. Miranda tastes even better from when you lick her off your fingers, it's a sweet mixture of sourness. Adding your saliva makes a great combination. Soon the promised mess from earlier comes to life. You drag your so far calm tongue along her slit, then further up, it moves perfectly smooth between her lower lips. When you reach her clit, a moan slips from her vocal cords, reminding you of her sensitivity. The bundle of nerves is practically throbbing with need as you take it into your mouth. You attack it with lazy, painfully slow licks while looking up to Miranda. Her nails are implying constant torture to the sheets beneath her, but overall she's strangely composed. Not being able to satisfy her is not to your liking.

"You're so addictive." - You praise her loudly, earning a small, but warm smile. Helping yourself with strong hands, you press her spread hips to the mattress while occupying her with hot open-mouthed kisses. - "So lethally beautiful." - she lets out a gasp, as your thumbs stretching out to reveal her opening to you, tongue slowly curling it. - "Not a single flaw on you, perfection."

Both of you are used to your flatter when it comes to making love with her. Your words of appreciation are  a blessing for Miranda ears and... it's truly no secret they also work as aphrodisiacs. It turns her too way too much. And the blonde woman finds it extremely difficult  to stay still not moan too loudly as your tongue penetrates her without a warning. It's a melting pleasure for both of you. She's tight and warm, in order for you actually give her something - you lock your jaw in place and push forward until your fully extended tongue muscles slip inside of her, nose left to teasingly rub against her clit. Then you allow yourself to explore. You spell both yours and Miranda's name against her inner walls, which twitch in excitement. It's long before she rest her head on a pillow while her hips jerk off forward, needs more friction.

"Were you hiding from me all this time, darling?" - she's expected to start talking her nonsense when near her edge, but surprisingly against tonight - her words are sharply calculated, despite her having to stop between heavy breaths and urgent hisses. - "Joking around with that boy when you're clearly made to worship a woman's body?" - there goes her never ending race against Philip. And your ex boyfriend is not even on the competition anymore. Your tongue leaves her with a wet pop, forcing out a whimper out of her. You lick your lips before exposing her puffy clit to more exploding fire. Miranda finds herself out of breath, yet still the muscles of her neck flex out when she speaks again. Specifying her worries for you. - "...My body."

Nothing feels real at the moment. As if time has frozen you don't even consider the outside world. The room, sheltering you, is completely invisible. Only Miranda exists for you. And her pleasure. A hand, quiet as a snake, roams through the sheets down between her legs. A helper for your jaw, which is already getting tired from bobbing up and down. You interrupt your working mouth, only to quick take two fingers inside it. Covering them with great amount of saliva, you later on release them from between your lips. Miranda is practically a leaking mess, yet it would never hurt to add more lubricant. She easily takes both fingers until they sink knuckle deep inside of her. Once they start moving the woman woman, wraps a palm over her own mouth and throws her head back, loosing any ability to hold her precious eye contact. Although she tries her best, hitched moans still manage to explode out of her. You alarm yourself by the sound, something finally clicking inside your mind. Your personal room is much closer to the kid's bedrooms than Miranda's one, so naturally she'd be forced to muffle herself. Perhaps covering her with kisses might help. While ascending in search for her lips, however, she suddenly snaps at you - voice slightly irritated.

"No, baby, you can't deny me that golden tongue of yours."  - her unbelievably strong hand shoves your head back to her core, her hips now jerking upwards. Any anxiety about her daughters being faced with a very bad example evaporate from your thoughts. You open your mouth, allowing your tongue to just sticks out of it as she positions herself in a way, that will bring friction to her clit everytime she moves her hips up and down, rubbing against your face with need. Miranda keeps one arm wrapped at the back of your neck, holding you firmly, while the other is bended behind her - a weak elbow barely being able to hold her half up body while she seeks her pleasure. Your fingers never slow down, finding her sweet spot with ease, hitting it with the same rhythm she moves her pelvis. - "mmm...you're going to make me come, darling." - her declaration only switches a key inside of you, which immediately makes you double your efforts. Her moans turn into straight, breathless ahs, legs finally giving in to uncontrollable trembling. She is so close - you can practically taste her orgasm. - "Can I come for you, my sweet little deer?"

One moment Miranda is begging you for a release, and the next she's already curled up on one side, breathing so heavily that her pants easily fill the entire room, and the sheets are soaked beneath her still-shaking hips. You stare at her with a shocked expression, completely devoured of the situation. Your right hand remains with spread out fingers, the last move you did inside of her before she snapped in half, and by looking at it you note it's covered in a glove of her dripping wetness. Unbelievable, you've never pushed her that far. Every cell of your being wants to do it again. You wait for her breathing to calm down to regular, which definitely takes a few minutes. After that, however, Miranda just...stops moving. As if dead. You call out her nail, getting absolutely zero reaction in return. Moving closer to her is a good decision, but running a hand up her slightly exposed from the crumpled shirt back - not as good. She twitches with a hiss the moment your fingertips make contact with the black tissue on it.

"Not my back, Mi-" - she turns with the speed of light, eyes burning in golden colour, voice angrier than ever. You gulp, moving your hand back, and she sighs. - "...my darling."

"Sorry...I-"

"No, I should apologise." - Miranda skillfully wraps her fingers around your retreating wrist and pulls it back to her, sending a wave of sweet kisses down the path of your knuckles. - "I'm... barely able to form a thought right now, darling."

Well you should just go ahead a pat yourself on the shoulder. A statement from a while ago spawns in your mind out of the blue - Miranda was correct as usual, she's not hard to please when you know which buttons to push. Luckily for you, you know every single one of them.

"So...are you in for another round, granny, or are you too tired?" - you question her with a smirk, shifting so you can sit next to her on the bed. Your hands work fast to dispose your own clothing. Another pile finds a place on the floor.

"Call me granny again and I'll ruin you." - so she can think, after all. A little pissy than you would like, but still very inviting.

"Is that a promise or a threat..." - Miranda narrows her dark eyes at you. - "...granny."

The blonde woman is all over you before you can get your answer.

.

.

.

"Fuck...fuck...Mira-" - You feel a light slap slide across your ass. Another punishment about swearing, for which Miranda warns you about so often. Because of your position, pushed hard into the mattress, she can do whatever she wants. Oh, she's rather dominant when she decides to be. She has your legs intertwined with hers, one hooked up her shoulder for more access while your hips are rubbing together. You keep on staring at one single bulging vein on her stomach, it's low - starting from the apex of her left thigh and ending nearly her belly button. This is enough to keep your attention and not make you observe with how much need she grinds her throbbing core against yours. Because surely looking for too long will make you loose your mind. Although you choose not to use one sense it doesn't mean you can block your others from working. Your shared wetness merging together is echoing through the room, facing no other obstacles but additional heavy panting. - "Why don't we...fuck-" - and slap to your skin. - "...it would be easier to go to your room, no? You have your preparations there..."

"Don't you think it's more enjoyable to just... let you feel me like this, rather than being filled to the brim with a toy, hm?" - Miranda talks with confidence, as if she wasn't the one barely moving not so long ago. Though after having you come for her two time in a row- you're much more sensitive. She hugs the shaking leg around her shoulder, while moving even faster, rewarding you with another sticky kiss from her clit to your own. You almost scream from pleasure.

"Can't..." - Miranda lowers herself, bending your leg until your hip in almost glued to your stomach. You're flexible, but it surely sting your muscles a little. Not like you can focus on pain currently. For the first time since you've started being intimate, you find yourself being the one to dig nails into her shoulders. You don't dare to bother her back, however, for which she's thankful. Soon she leans her head down in order to kiss you. - "too much, Mira, I can't-"

"I know, darling, I know." - she coos at you with fake pity, turning your head to a side so she can lick your neck. Unexpectedly you grab her hips and push her against you. She hisses out, eyes widened. She's not going to be the only one struggling with the overwhelming pleasure. - "Yes..., I feel good too."

A world-shaking orgasm strikes you like a thunder. Miranda guides you through it, whispering praise while not allowing you rest, since she's seaking her own high peak. You completely loose track of reality. Everything happens too fast and the only thing clear enough for you to focus on is Miranda. Your goodness of beauty, in her purest moments of heat. Your favourite type of chaos, your evening sky and morning sun. You're certain now, in what exactly you wanted to tell her earlier with all your fancy words of admiration.

"I love you, Miranda, I love you so much."

The world slows down, the earth turns to ice , before it completely stops rotating. The illusion of the material and the immaterial is broken. The dark blue ocean pours over you, almost  drowning you.  Miranda's gaze is just that intoxicating once she tilts her head down. The air between you is as thick as a wall, even though no one is breathing. Then everything breaks. Miranda shatters into a million pieces. You don't even realize the weight of your words before they bring bitter drops to her eyes. You hate when she cries, but right now you hate yourself and your stupid feelings more.

Before you can even think of protesting or somehow appeasing her, she digs sharp nails into your temples. Your mind shuts down, giving her complete control. She sniffles, allowing herself to once again penetrate your brain, currently filled with regret. She removes anything that would hurt her. She removes the memory of your shared love. It eating her from the inside that there's no way for her to  remove the feeling entirely. She can't allow herself to be loved again.

"Please don't do this to me, you can't." - Miranda won't endure it again. The pure taste of poison. Although you're not mentally with her, she can control your body how she wishes. She forced you to sleep immediately, while she escapes your combined trap of flesh. - "Anything but that feeling again.." - she whispers more to herself than you. 

The blonde woman begins to cough, her hand quickly curling around her neck. A familiar feeling of pressure in her chest rises up to her mouth and she leans forward, squeezing her eyes shut, breathing deeply. She curses once as she falls to the floor, a second time as she runs to the bathroom, and a third time as her mouth fills with unnecessary drool. She stares at the mirror across from her, eyes bulging, for mere seconds, but it's enough to fill her with enough rage to knock her low again. The tiles beneath her body are cold. Miranda hates herself, hates when she feels so weak, hates the fact that none of the marks  you gave her will stay on her skin, she hates the fact that you love her.

I love you, Miranda, I love you, Miranda...two voices pop into her head. Mia doesn't belong there, but she can't bear to think about  you. Her skin warms and no matter how many times she swallows , the lump in her throat won't go away. She can't put off the inevitable. Miranda leans over the toilet, holding her hair in one hand as she coughs. Soon the unpleasant feeling of vomiting totally overwhelms her and she empties her stomach.

She's not surprised to discover that the liquid has no color. She vomits up pure stomach juices for the simple reason that she just doesn't eat. She hasn't had to in years. Not before you showed up and started bitching about how she wasn't getting enough to eat. Not until you started caring...A new wave of stomach acid comes out of her mouth. A certain amount of time passes, filled in coughing and more vomiting before she settles to the ground, exhausted.

The unpleasant habit of throwing up when under a lot of stress or pressure is something she has been struggling with for a long time, but can never overcome. Her stomach hurts, her throat and nose burn, and she's sure her teeth would be rotting right now if it weren't for the saliva that has accumulated in her mouth.

I love you, Miranda... Enough. This is a living hell. It's too soon, it's too rushed, you can't love her, she can't...leave her past behind. Miranda doesn't believe she can experience love without her familiar pain, and even though you're too different from Mia, she can't be sure, not when you told her yourself tonight that part of you longs to hurt her. Lovely, now her head is starting to throb too.

Exhausted and weak, she stands up. Still completely naked, except for her now teasing white shirt, she returns with quiet steps to the bedroom. She knows you are sleeping deeply because she herself is holding you under this influence. As she watches you, however , a sad sigh escapes her throat. It's all her fault. Miranda cannot accept your love, nor give you hers.

She bends down to pick up the clothes from the floor before leaving your room and disappearing into the night, leaving you alone.

[neonvvaves]

for  the  sake  of  keeping  his  hands  busy,  kaye  starts  cleaning  his  already  clean,  immaculate,  organized  room.  "i'm  fine.  just  might  sound  a  little  tired."  he  pauses  when  picking  up  a  manilla  folder.  like  pandora's  box,  kaye  opens  it  to  see  different  print-outs  of  photos,  maps,  subway  routes,  and  other  research  he  was  doing  about  korea.  growing  up  in  the  states,  kaye's  never  been  to  korea.  if  he  ever  goes  someday,  maybe  seokmin  and  kaye  can  go  together?  tightly  gripping  the  folder,  kaye's  about  to  hurl  it  into  the  wastebin.  but  after  a  slow  breath,  kaye  tucks  it  into  the  lowest  drawer  of  his  desk.  "and  it's  okay,  you  don't  need  to  apologize."  kaye  moves  onto  getting  his  outfit  ready  for  tomorrow,  which  is  all  black  as  usual.                  

while  listening  to  more  details  about  korain's  and  seokmin's  plan,  it  takes  a  phenomenal  reservoir  of  self-control  for  kaye  not  to  say,  what  the  actual  fuck.  kaye  wants  to  believe  he's  an  empathetic  person.  but  he  doesn't  understand  the  rationale  behind  this.  it's  one  thing  pretending  to  be  someone  else  for  a  quick,  long-distance  fuck.  but  kaye  doesn't  understand  why  play  this  game  of  being  in  a  romantic  relationship  for  this  long.  still  keeping  his  camera  off,  kaye  switches  screens,  and  starts  scrolling  through  their  past  text  messages.  did  seokmin  write  this?  or  was  it  his  friend?  or  was  it  some  app  that  chose  exactly  the  right  words?  "i  deleted  his  pictures,"  kaye  says  after  clearing  out  his  album.  "you  can  tell  him  if  you  want. or not."  one  core  thing  about  kaye  is  that  he  never  tolerates  cheating.  but . . . is  kaye  a  cheater?  because  kaye  would  get  all  happy  and  excited  whenever  he  saw  pictures  of  his  boyfr─  seokmin's  friend.  fuck.  acidic  self-repulsion  eats  away  at  kaye's  skin.  "thanks  for  telling  me."  he  doesn't  comment  anymore  on  seokmin  and  korain.  not  while  something  dark,  hideous  twists  inside  his  chest.            

closing  his  eyes,  kaye  rubs  at  his  temple  to  ease  back  the  stubbornly  emerging  headache.  he  can't  even  begin  to  think  about  what  it'll  be  like  if  they  go  public.  kaye's  one  of  those  people  who's  practically  off  the  grid  when  it  come  to  social  media.  the  sparse  accounts  he  has  are  private.  even  then,  kaye  rarely  uploads  his  face,  or  it  may  be  covered  by  a  face  mask.  he  loves  working  cameras,  because  he  can  help  create  shows  and  films  without  being  in  the  spotlight.  "thanks  for  being  considerate.  maybe we  can  talk  about  going  public  later."  kaye  shelves  that  for  now.  there's  too  many  other  immediate  fires  he  needs  to  take  care  of.  like  seokmin  asking  if  they  can  meet  before  tomorrow's  shoot.  there's  that  nausea  again,  but  it's  tenfold  stronger,  and  punching  a  crater  right  through  his  stomach.  kaye  hasn't  eaten  today,  and  with  the  way  his  anxiety's  kicking  in  high  gear,  it's  likely  his  appetite  will  stay  dead.  "if  we  meet  before  the  shoot,  you'll  be  okay?"  kaye's  worried  that  it  may  put  seokmin  in  a  bad  headspace,  and  he'd  fucking  hate  to  affect  seokmin's  performance  for  tomorrow's  scenes.  "because  we  can  meet  after  work  if  you  want.  i'm  open  to  either."  the  ugly  truth  is  that  kaye  wants  to  flee  the  city,  no,  the  country.  it  feels  too  fast.  he  hasn't  processed  all  of  this,  mentally  plotted  out  at  least  a  dozen  different  ways  this  can  go.  but  what  kaye  wants  doesn't  matter.  seokmin's  more  important.

“that’s the last thing i’m thinking about right now —“ it wasn’t even close to the list of things seokmin was thinking about, actually. he’d stay up all night talking to kaye on accident sometimes, let alone right now. “kaye.” the other man’s name came softly as seokmin finally opened the door to his closet so he could snag a hoodie, and this was the first time his eyes drifted away from the screen. not that he looked away from it for long, or anything, but just one enough to grab what he needed. “this — it’s a lot to take in, and i’m so sincerely sorry for that. and it’s a lot more to take in because of work. please don’t worry about me, and just tell me if you stop being okay. okay?” or say the word if he wasn’t as okay as he was trying to make seokmin believe, and the other man would be out the door in a second! or at least he would be as soon as he knew where he was going.

“i — yeah, um,” seokmin went back out into his room so he could settle on the edge of his bed, “he told me i could? i—“ hm. he supposed it wasn’t exactly a complicated story, it just might sound a little odd to tell someone that wasn’t there? or didn’t fully know seokmin and korain’s friendship? and there was so much extra backstory that technically went along with it, but that seokmin didn’t think was actually important to the story right now? so — “we were talking and i said about … how sometimes it can be hard to know people’s intentions when i meet them. friends, or more — i don’t really date.” ever, actually. aside from the one real boyfriend he’s had, and then the girl that wasn’t really honest with her feelings and — not to say she kicked up the distrust, but she played a part! a big part. anyway — “it was kind of his idea.” it was korain’s idea, and seokmin adjusted it to feel less terrible. as in only using his friends pictures, but everything else was real.

then kaye’s words kind of took him off guard, but that’s fine — this entire thing must have taken kaye off guard. so seokmin nodded his head in response, ready to listen to whatever the other shared. and what was being said? seokmin wasn’t exactly shocked, per say. he knew that was probably going to be the first avenue they tried. it made sense, right? instead of showing up tomorrow holding hands? (even if seokmin would love to hold kaye’s hand whenever he could). which meant he was nodding his head again in answer, “i think that’s good...” it might be very awkward, especially tomorrow. but it would get better, even if it took days upon days upon weeks. talking in person would help, too. or at least seokmin hoped as much? “i think it should be your decision if we change how we handle it.. it could be a lot if we go, like, public, you know? people can be scary, s’why i don’t really do much — i don’t know. i don’t want you to regret anything?” committing to a public relationship with seokmin could be crazy, especially at first, and he didn’t want kaye to get hurt. like, literally hurt. “can — can we meet up before work? you can say no, i won’t be upset or anything. i get it if you don’t want to.” but seokmin was worried, for one. he’d like to see kaye before work, whether it was in the morning or now, just so they could get things settled and make walking into set better. “but i’d like to?”

[ellieloves2draw]

sketchdump time!! dq11 edition :] four years later and this game is still really good 👍

[deoidesign]

I met the me who made different choices

[sanasanakun]

Jimithon Mouthwashing is such a good representation of untreated, enabled NPD like it makes me want to squeeze the life out of him. I'm endlessly fascinated when watching him interact with his crew, surroundings, and himself because he's so fucking lost in his own sauce. It's insane. If I'm being real, it makes him my favorite character in the game.

It's a little scary to say, but watching Jimmy is like seeing a mirrored version of myself two years ago before I truly committed to treatment for my NPD. He's like a shadow. The opening line "I hope this hurts," which I believe comes from Jimmy right before the crash, is such a poignant statement. It's a simple line, but I can tell you from experience that the desire to hurt others when in a narcissistic rage is overwhelming. It's such a good line to sum up Jimmy's character in that moment. Luckily, in the real world, I had my friends and family there to catch me when I hit my lowest, even though I'd hurt them so many times. Jimmy probably could've used friends to force him into therapy (cough cough Curly cough cough)