#last week i thought i'd found everything there was to find but i keep finding new places to look for videos and it's been super helpful

[hotdyke-hardstyle]

I am sooo happy I found a bunch of må videos from stuff i've wanted to gif but initially couldn't find anything for~

[grugruel]

Let the Light in

Pairing: priest!Bucky x f!reader

MDNI/NSFW

Masterlist

Summary: On the day of your wedding, you excpect to love your husband, not fall for the priest.

You'd never been a believer. But when your marrige spiraled into darkness, you had to find light elsewere. So you asked the Lord for help, and He answered.

Ironically enough, He gave you a most devout follower, the priest.

Word count: ca 4k

Warnings: fluff, angst, blasphemy, soft!priest!bucky, pinv sex, oral sex (f receiving), passionate sex, fingering, thigh-riding, adultry, praise (m receiving), priest kink.

AN: its been proof read! I dont understand how yall read it before the fact, my misspellings were crazy. I also edited it a bit, gave yall about 200-300 words more.

I stod silently on the sidewalk, with my back to the road. Numbly observing the scene in front of me as I waited. Cars were rushing past behind me, slowing as they noticed the crowd.

The chilly autumn winds blew my coat off of my stocking clad legs, revealing them to the elements. I couldnt be bothered to care.

The cold did not affect me anymore, I was strung out on feeling.

I watched my husband struggle, and the guests scramble to help him. They got him on his feet, and his best man slung an arm around him to keep him from falling again. My eyes brimmed with tears, ready to fall any second now.

I felt a hand touch the small of my back in silent support. A palm pressed firmly into the arch below, fingertips curling, rouching the fabric of my dress. I closed my eyes and all my troubles were wisked away for but a second, until I heard the guests approach and the hand left me. I opened my eyes to a grim sight.

We met in college, my husband and I. He'd been lovely and attentive when we first met, he made me fall in love with him. He proposed to me on our graduation, and i'd never been happier.

Unfortunately though, it didnt last that long.

As we were fresh out of school, both with stellar scores and brand new degrees. We got our dream jobs, and bought ourselves our dream home.

Everything was perfect, until he got fired. Why? He wouldnt tell me, he left me in the dark, refusing to tell me himself.

Naturally, I grew suspicious.

So I called his former boss, who told me that they'd caught him with his secretary bent over his desk. They said he'd gotten a reputation within his business and would be experiencing difficulties in finding a new job for himself. My crying increased gradually through out the call, this was the first time hed let me down after all. His boss was very apologetic and so was my fiancé.

He found me sat on the floor with phone in hand, a complete mess of tears and running mascara. Immedietly showing worry, 'Whats going on, whats happened?' He asked, thinking somebody died. But when I glared at him, repaying his silence with my own, he understood. He stuttered an apology, his words a flurry of explanations and sorrys, sounding truly regretful.

So I forgave him, silly me.

With time, bitterness manifested within him. Resentment over the fact that I was well liked and did good work at my own job. It led him down a pityfull path, finding solace in alcohol, resentment turning into lousey drunkeness. I should've left him, but chose to forgive him. I loved him, despite all.

Eventually he found a new job, nowehere near the prestige of his old one. But it calmed his drinking.

When he sobered slightly, he apologized continously. Telling me he promised to get better and told me he wanted to have our ceremony, because I deserved it. Foolishly, I belived him. He stayed sober several weeks before the wedding, and I thought it could be a new start.

But here we are now.

I stood behind the doors of the nave, inhaling and exhaling big shaky breaths, trying to gather strength for what I was about to throw myself into.

The priest, father Barnes. The one who would be marrying us, came to me before I walked down the aisle.

'Miss.' He began, his eyes pleading as he took my hands into his, 'Its now my place, I know. But your betrothed-'

'Youre right, its not.' I cut him off, the idea of discussing my fiancés indiscretions with the priest was not appealing. 'I apologize father.' I sighed and met his eyes, 'Hes drunk isnt he?'

The priest tilted his head to the side, realising I was already well aquainted with the vice, 'Well, yes. . .' He said, sounding apologetic.

I nodded my head, deep in thought, 'Alright, lets not waste anymore time then.'

'You're still going ahead with the wedding?' He asked me, an incredulous expression shaping his face.

I looked down, studying the intricate details of my wedding dress. Id picked it myself, my favourite flowers covered it. That man of mine doesnt know my favourite in anything, nor would he notice them on my dress.

A melancholic smile covered my lips, 'You must think me foolish father.' I whispered under my breath, chuckling quietly.

He shook his head and moved one of his hands to my chin, tilting my face to meet his. The other grabbed my hands, and squeezed them, 'I think youre strong.' He told me, a reassuring smile on his lips.

'He promised me he would get better.' My voice was meak, a tear streaking my face.

'You're a good woman.' He breathed, letting go of my hands to cup my face. He leveled his head with mine, his tall stature forcing him to hunch as his eyes locked with mine, 'Too, good.' He whispered, 'And, Its not my business, thats true. . .' Another tear fell, and he gently stroked it away with his thumb, 'But he does not deserve your kindness.'

My cheeks burned hot, a blush crept up my face. I had not heard such kind words in a long time. I could not controll my crying any longer, unstoppable tears came rolling down my cheeks, 'I have to believe him, father, I have to try.' I told him quietly, hating how desperate my voice sounded.

'I love him.'

He cringed at the words, furrowing his brows 'I admire your devotion.' He said gently, 'Do you want more time? Im sure we can wait a little longer.' He tried, but I shook my head.

'No, I dont want to keep the guests waiting.' I took a deep breath, 'Do I look ok?' I asked him.

He nodded, but pulled the cuff over his hand and dabbed my cheeks dry.

His eyes flickered over my face, studying my features, my wet eyes and rosy cheeks. He leaned in, kissed my cheek and whispered 'Angelic.' His hands fell to my bare shoulders and gave them a reassuring squeeze.

He turned around and as he was about the leave I grabbed hold of his wrist, carefully tugging him back. He faced me and I let go of him realising that perhaps it wasnt appropriate of me. 'I just-' I began, but my voice broke. He met my eyes and pulled me into his embrace, 'Thank you, father.' I whispered against his chest.

He rested his head on your shoulder and rubbed your back gently, holding onto the fabric of your dress, rubbing it between his fingers. Studying the beautiful pattern. He slid his hands up your arms, feeling a sudden urge to kiss the bare skin beneath him. He pulled back hastily, clearing his throat as he silently rebuked himself.

'I must take my place dear.' He said, stroking a piece of hair behind my ear. He gave me a last smile, then left, taking his place by the altar.

I heard the music starting and the muffled sound of the crowd standing up. I sighed, steadied my breathing, and opened the doors to the nave. Everyone turned around, looking at me. Whispers rumbled through the crowd as I began walking, their stares were making me nervous.

Through the gloom of the church, light shone through the windows at the altar. I looked at him for comfort, handsome as he was, I met his eyes and found it within them.

He could not tear his eyes from you, you were the most beautiful woman he'd ever seen, courageous and proud, you walked down the aisle. When your eyes met his, he smiled proudly. Hoping you would find some comfort in it, and you found it.

As I approached the altar, I tore my eyes from his and looked at my fiancé. His best man holding him upright, otherwise slumping over. He smiled sloppily at me, I gave him a strained smile back.

The ceremony was over quickly, my husband stumbled through his vows and his kiss tasted of smoke and whiskey. In fact, the entirety of him was drenched in the odor.

I smiled and thanked everyone as they congratulted us, and carefully, tiptoed around the subject of my husband.

I hurried to change into my reception dress, it was all black. Black coat, dress, heels and stockings. Fitting, I thought. As this felt more like a funeral than a wedding, burrying the woman I once was.

People were drinking, laughing and dancing. The reception was doing a wonderful job of keeping everyone cheery, everyone except me. I sat silently by our table, watching my husband as he kept drinking and his men trying to calm him down. He had barely spoken a word to me, he was to drunk to stand, to drunk to have our first dance. I felt myself sinking into oblivion as my polite smiles and thank yous were running out.

But someone approched me, snapping me out of the darkness. I looked up, and the light returned.

He reached his hand out to me, 'May I have this dance?' He asked, his white collar stark against his black shirt.

'You may.' I smiled, the first genuine smile I'd given anyone since the night begun.

I laid my hand in his and he led me to the edge of the dance floor, somewhere we could be at peace. In our dark colors we went unseen, tucked away from prying eyes.

I snaked my arms around his neck and his arms circled my waist, pulling me tightly against him. A bit unorthodox perhaps. But I didnt mind and neither did he, it seemed. I leaned my head against him as we swayed to the music, basking in eachothers prescence.

He sensed that you werent interested in talking, but rather needed a shoulder to lean on. Someone to hold you up, as your ungrateful husband couldnt even do that for himself.

For several songs, we just held eachother. Until the evening began winding down and we had to depart.

'I think this was a mistake.' He whispered.

'Which part?' I asked, and he sighed.

'Dont hesitate to come to me if you need anyhting.' He said quietly, 'Please.' he pleaded. I nodded, thinking id never take him up on his offer.

Now, I stood on the street. Still feeling the priests hand on my back although he'd already taken a few secure steps back.

I watched as my husband being carried to our car, as we were headed for our honeymoon. Two weeks in rome, I wish I could truthfully say I was excited. They shoved him into the back, and once again congratulated us with cheapish smiles. I walked around the car and opened the door, about to sit down when a hand slid into mine. I looked up and my eyes met his beautiful blues once again. He assisted me into the car, lending me his strong arm for support as I sat down. His hand slid out of mine, and a note was left in my palm, reflexicely I closed my hand around it. 'Anything.' He whispered and backed away, closing the door gently.

Our car drove off as the guests were waving us of, but all I could think about was the priest disappearing in the distance.

I opened the note, written down was his number and adress along with a few intricately drawn flowers.

I smiled to myself, quickly stashing it away in my pocket, afraid my husband would see. But as I looked at him, I realised. He was dead asleep, snoring even.

I opened my hand, tracing my fingertips along my palm. Trying to recreate the feeling of his hand in mine, his gentle, yet firm touch on my skin. I sighed, feeling my tears returning.

I cried silently, afraid to wake him. The driver looked at me through his rearview mirror, I met his eyes and quickly averted my gaze, crying even harder, but I couldnt even do that in peace. God, what had I done. I leaned my head against the seat, closing my eyes. When suddenly, I felt fingers on my knee. I shut my eyes harder, begging for it to be my imagination. But it wasnt.

'My, beautiful wife.' He drawled, tracing a finger along my jaw as his hand slid up my thigh. He sat forward, leaning towrd the drivers compartment and shut the hatch.

I opened my eyes and faced him, 'Aw, crying of joy sweetheart?' He asked, he was so delusional it was scary. I nodded, and feigned a smile which he returned lazily, then leaned in to kissed me.

I closed my eyes again, canceling out the taste and smell of liqour, shutting my ears to his voice.

And when his finger reached under my dress, It no longer felt like him. My husbands face was no longer my husbands, his voice and touch was someone elses.

All of a sudden my core was aching for more.

His kisses on my skin felt like heaven, his touch like fire and when he pulled me on top of him. I opened my eyes, and was met with blue, black and white.

Weeks went by and my thoughts never left father Barnes, whenever my husband made love to me, I made love to a priest.

Eventually his drinking subdued and he started taking care of himself, but grew more distant by the day.

It did actually make my existence bareable.

But there came a day, when I got home from work early and things were not as they should. The were heels in the doorway and clothes strewn on the floor. As I followed their trail, I found my husband and his secretary at the end of them. Naked, sweaty and monaing, in our bed, in our home. I was quiet, lost for words, but they mustve noticed my presence.

Because they stopped and threw the sheets over themselves, covering up. 'Sweetheart, its not what it seems.' He managed, struggling to clme up with an excuse. God, the stumache on that man. I felt like screaming, like cursing him and his entire bloodline. But he wasnt worth it.

I turned on my heel and he scrambled out of bed, dragging the sheet with him as he followed me out of the house, apologizing prefusely.

I shut him out, rage filling me as I got in my car and drove away. I drove to the only adress that came to mind.

I walked up to his house and knocked on the door, a few moments passed and he opened.

With wide eyes he looked at me, unable to hide his surpise. 'I uhm, I-' I stammered, my own surpise catching up to me. I hadnt had time to think this through, I acted on pure instinct. 'He cheated on me.' I got the words out, finally taking a breath as I finally understood their meaning. Misery overtook my rage, and my eyes welled as I tried to explain myself. 'I apologize for barging in on you father.' I started, 'Ive been thinking about you and I-' rambling, all my thoughts and feelings poured out of me. In the doorway of this poor mans home.

He reached out to me and pulled me into a hug, backing away from the door and let it fall shut behind me. He rested his head on top of mine as one of his hands held my head against his chest, stroking my hair. The warmth of his home embracing me.

'Can I confess something father?' I asked him as I laid my arms around him, much like our dance a few weeks ago.

'Anything.' He answered, kissing the top of my head.

'Ive sinned.'

He pulled back with a confused look on his face, but didnt let go. 'Lets hear it.' He ordered patiently.

'Ive. . . Been thinking of another man.' I whispered, looking deep into his eyes. 'During actions that should only take place between husband and wife.' I told him quietly, and his face grew pale. 'Ive had an emotional affair with this man, unbeknownst to him.' My breathing turned heavy, as my gaze switched to his lips, 'But, me and this man. Were both bound by vows you see.' I said and let go of him, understanding my words as I said them, and stepped back. Suddenly regretting coming here, as I felt rejection was imminent. 'Mine are already broken, but his are not and he cannot break them. He would not.'

'You should let the man speak for himself.' He said, serious in tone. His gaze locked in on me, as he stepped closer. 'I havent been able to stop thinking about you, no matter how hard I've tried.' He whispered, laying his hands on my hips. 'Ive never seen a woman so beautiful walking down the aisle, god himself mustve blessed you.' I snaked my hands around his shoulders, burrying them in his hair. 'Im hoping he would bless us, too.' Leaning in, his lips were a ghost over mine. 'I would care for you, in a way your husband never could. He does not deserve you.' He leaned his forehead agagaist mine, 'I'd work everyday to deserve your love, your kindness, your presence.' He said quietly against my lips, planting a gentle kiss on them and pulling back slightly to give me room. But I chased his lips, returning the kiss feverishly. Grabbing a fistful of his hair as I pulled him impossibly closer. His hands roamed my back, reaching under my shirt to undo my bra. It fell to the floor and he pulled my shirt over my head in one quick motion, making me gasp.

I removed the collar of his shirt with my teeth and ripped his black shirt open, burrying my head in the crook of his neck, 'Youre not a beginner, are you father? I asked, between kisses. Breathing heavily as I latched onto his skin, sucking at the sweet spot between his neck and collarbone.

He moaned, a smirk shaping his lips, 'Saints also sin from time to time.' he breathed, his hands falling to my ass and lifted me into his arms. I chuckled, letting go of his neck and circled my legs around his hips. I pushed my bare breasts against him and he burried his face in them, in turns taking them into his mouth. 'Where?' His voice came muffled by my skin.

'Everywhere.' I answered.

I could feel his grin against my skin, as he nipped my nipple with his teeth, making me yelp. He walked us toward his bedroom, and laid me down on his bed. He stood back, studying me as he took his shirt and pants off. I unbuttoned my own pants and shimmied out of them, raising myself onto my elbows, watching him as he took me in. His eyes roamed my body, thighs, hips, stumache, breasts. He loved all of me, 'Youre perfect.' He said, lust in his eyes as he climbed on top of me. 'I need you.' He whispered.

'You'll have me.' I told him and flipped him over. Positioning him against the headboard as I stradled his thigh, grinning wickedly and leaned forward, kissing his jaw. 'But first-' I whispered against his ear, 'I want to test your self control.' He looked confused, and I began grinding my clit against his thigh, a whimper escaping me. His hands flew to my hips to help me along, but I grabbed them and led them up to the headboard. I leveled my face with his, ghosting my lips over his as I had him hold onto the board, 'No touching.' I whispered and pecked his lips. I leaned back and my grinding resumed, I grabbed his thighs for support as the heat from the friction was making me swoon. I leaned my head back, biting my lip from the pleasure and when I looked back at him, he was holding onto the board for dear life. The muscles in his arms and jaw clenching as he fought himself to stay still, his eyes were running up and down my body.

The way your hips swayed and breasts bounced, it was sucking all the restraint out of him. His hands were itching to touch you, to just feel your skin under his fingertips for a moment. It would keep him fed for the rest of his life.

I hummed, 'Im- im gonna-' I stammered, my breaths frenzied as I was closing in on my orgasm. The crazy in his eyes made me smile devilishly, I felt evil, in the best way. My hips stuttered against his thigh, my ruts becoming faster and shorter as I was approaching my release. When I looked at him, his eyes were pleading, begging for permission, but it was to late. I rushed over the edge in a second, collapsing onto him, panting hard as I was catching my breath.

'May I?' He asked, his voice strained.

I kissed his chest and answered, 'Yes, please. You did so good.' He grunted at the praise, surprising me. He grabbed my ribs and threw me under him, hurridly kissing his way down my body until he reached my thighs. Spreading them, he kissed his way up the inside until he reached my panties. Without a second thought he ripped them apart and burried his face in my cunt. Tasting me, licking my juices, sliding his tongue through my folds and kissing my clit. A string of curses fell from my lips, as he pushed a finger inside of me, carefully sliding it in and out. Then adding another, and eventually a third, he thrusted them into me, my moaning telling him he was on the right track. He curled them into my spot and I nearly screamed.

'Just like that, good job.' I breathed and he moaned against my clit. What fun. He reached into his boxers and stroked himself, the sight made me mad. And for the second time, I came tumbling over the edge. He was not far behind, coming into his own hand, drenching himself in his seed. I grabbed his arm and pulled his hand closer to me, licking a stripe of his hand. He grunted at the sight, spurring me on as I took his fingers into my mouth. Sucking him clean as he watched, furrowing his brows, he became plagued by lust.

I pulled him closer to me, meeting his lips in another kiss as he pulled off his boxers. I reached down, stroking him as I lined him up with my entrance, 'You did such a good job, father.' His head perked at the praise, like a puppy being told hes a good boy. Gratefully pecking my face, cheek, chin and jaw, below my ear and neck. He put his weight on me, we couldnt possibly get any closer to one another. 'I need you in me father.' I told him bluntly, and leveled his head with mine, sliding inside. Kissing me mean while and I moaned into his mouth, sharing my breath with him. I laid my hands on his hips, telling him to move by pulling and pushing. Helping him set a gentle but firm pace, he lowered his head to the crook of my neck, his breath hot against my skin. 'Let me hear you father, dont hold back.' I whispered and appreciatively he grunted against my skin, moaning in my ear. It was fiendish, it was fantastic. 'Deeper, please.' I asked, pulling on his hips to drive him deeper and using the weight of his entire body he thrusted into me, in rythm with his grunts as our bodiess moved together.

'Tell me im good, please.' He begged, nuzzling his face into my neck.

I smiled, 'Youre being so good for me father.' I whispered into his hair.

'Thank you.' He whimpered, putting even more force to his thrusts as he traced my collarbone with kisses, all the way to my shoulder, repeating "Thank you." Over and over again inbetween his kisses. His thrusts were coming faster as he was closing in on his orgasm, driving me over the edge with him. 'I- im- im close.' He stuttered faintly.

'So am I, almost there father.' His pace hastened as his hand slithered between our bodies, finding my clit and circled it. 'God' I moaned, spots specking my vision as the priests thrusts became frenzied. He pinched my skin in warning, reminding me not to take the lords name in vain. Then we came together, and he collapsed on top of me.

'Im sorry for swearing, father. You bring it out of me.' I whispered.

He chuckled, 'Youre forgiven.' Throughout the night, we made love on the couch, the floor, the kitchen table and shower.

Eventually, we got back into bed. Holding eachother tightly as we drifted off to sleep.

When I woke up late the next day, there was a vase of flowers on the bedside table with a note under it, the letter "-B" was written on it.

I unfolded it and he had written me a message, "I had to go to church, but didnt want to wake you. I hope on seeing you later, please stay if you want to. Id love to come home to you. -PS, Your favourites."

I smiled happily and smelled the bouqet of tulips, a soft, warm feeling spreading throughout my body.

For a long time love had felt dark to me, it had felt cold and lonely, but now. . .

I had let the light in, he was my light.

[stylesispunk]

"Where is my love?"

Joel miller x f! reader

summary: Isn't she coming to me?

w.c: 7k>

warning: angst, mentions of death, and grief.

a/n: this is a sad one and closer to my heart because grieving is the love we can give to people who are gone. The only change of this is that has been ten years since the "end of the world" and is based on the last chapter of the show. reblogs and comments are always appreciated and for the love of god, can you please help me with inspo for writing, I want to write for other characters, so if you have any suggestions are welcome. Have a lovely reading 💌 dividers by @/saradika

masterlist

Your paths crossed a long time ago. When the world had descended into madness, the souls met the dead in a now forgotten land. He came across you, and he fell in love with you. The sunlight radiating after the freezing storm was a fire keeping his brittle heart warm.

You had saved him from ending his own life that day, when he had lost faith in a horror movie without an ending or a purpose. He did lose everything he had known—everything he had ever loved and protected—but he had met you.

For him, you were an angel, not delicate nor free from sins, but an angel who appeared after he thought he had met his spirit in heaven.

You have looked after him and Tommy for days, taking care of their well-being and taking care of the reminiscing scar plastered on Joel’s forehead as a reminder of his almost-death encounter with his angel, you.

And you had loved him ever since; you found yourself increasingly drawn to him, not just for his vulnerability under your eyes but because he had brought sense back to life. His presence seemed to chase away the shadows that had been going to hunt you since now.

As the days turned into weeks, months, and then years, the bond between you and Joel only grew stronger. You found yourself drawn to his strength, his resilience in the face of adversity, and the way he faced each day with unwavering determination.

You had loved him after acknowledging every terrible thing he had done, and you loved him anyway. The darkness inside of him, taunted by the loss of the previous time, didn’t prevent you from looking at him as if he hung the stars of the sky. You both looked at night before sleeping, trying to find some reassurance.

Together, you faced the challenges, from the first days of the end of the world to the QZ, to Ellie, to where you were right now, knowing that as long as you had each other, you could overcome anything.

Now, here in Jackson, in the quiet moment before sleep, you and Joel would still gaze up at the stars, finding solace in the vastness of the night sky. And as you held each other close, you found reassurance in the knowledge that no matter what tomorrow brought, you would face it together.

Joel broke the silence, his voice soft yet filled with the weight of years gone by. "You know, I never thought I'd find this kind of peace again. Not after everything that's happened."

You turned to him, your eyes meeting his in the darkness. "We've been through hell and back, Love. But somehow, we made it together."

He reached out to intertwine his fingers with yours, seeking the comfort your touch brought to him. "I don't know what I would do without you," he admitted, his voice breaking a little.

"You don't have to find out," you replied, a gentle smile playing on your lips. "We're in this together, remember? No matter what."

Joel nodded, his gaze returning to the heavens above. "Yeah, together," he echoed, as if trying to convince himself of the truth of those words.

"You will never lose me,” you whispered, leaning in to press a tender kiss to his forehead. "And I'll always be here to guide you home."

He closed his eyes, savoring the warmth of your lips over his skin. "I love you," he murmured, the words carrying the weight of a lifetime of pain and longing.

"I love you too," you replied, your heart overflowing with love for the man beside you.

Being in Jackson brought you back to a civilization, to peace, to a place where you could both sleep next to each other at the same time without fearing other people coming for you.

But as much as you cherished the peace and stability that Jackson provided, you couldn't escape the reality of everyday life. With it came the mundane challenges, the petty conflicts, and the occasional tension that threatened to disrupt the tranquility you had found together. There were disagreements, misunderstandings, and moments of frustration that tested the strength of your relationship.

You felt a rush of joy as you entered the door of your Jackson home. You couldn't wait to tell Joel about the trade you had made, so you were looking forward to seeing his reaction.

"Joel," you called out, your voice full of anticipation as you approached the living room where he was sitting. "Guess what? "I made a trade today."

Joel looked up from his book, interest in his eyes. "A trade?" "What did you get?"

You smiled, holding out the little camera you'd traded for some extra food supplies. "I exchanged some of our extra coffee for this camera! It's in excellent condition, and I thought we might use it to save some memories."

As you proudly showed the camera, Joel's initial curiosity turned into an unhappy face. He set down his book and looked at you with a mixture of disbelief and stress.

"You traded all of our extra coffee for a camera?" Joel repeated, his voice filled with frustration. "We rely on that coffee, you understand. It's not simply an extravagance; it's a product in high demand here in Jackson."

You faltered, understanding the potential repercussions of your impulsive trade. "I know, Joel, but I thought..."

"You thought what?" Joel interjected, his irritation growing. "That a camera was more important than having enough food to get us through the winter? "What if something happens and we need that coffee?"

You bit your lip, feeling a sense of remorse rush over you. "I didn't think of it that way. I just thought it would be wonderful to have something to save our memories."

Joel sighed and ran a hand through his hair, frustrated. "I understand, but we must prioritize our needs before our wants. You cannot go out there and make bad decisions."

His words hurt, and you felt a sinking feeling in the pit of your stomach. You didn't plan to compromise your safety, but in your excitement, you forgot to consider the repercussions of your actions.

"I'm sorry, Joel," you said quietly, feeling a sensation of shame rush over you. "I didn't mean to cause any harm."

Joel's gaze softened slightly as you apologized, but the tension in the air remained. "It's okay," he said softly. "Just stop being this childish," he murmured, strolling past you to the kitchen and leaving you in

Joel's gaze softened slightly as you apologized, but the tension in the air remained. "It's okay," he said softly. "Just stop being so childish," he replied, walking past you to the kitchen and leaving you in the living room with a bitter taste in your mouth.

A wave of guilt swept over you. You didn't mean to act impulsively or selfishly, but you now see that your actions had far-reaching implications.

Feeling the weight of Joel's disappointment, you remained in the living room, staring at the camera in your hands, your heart heavy. You realized he was correct; you needed to be more responsible and more aware of the circumstances and the actions that could affect your survival; being at peace in a place did not imply the risk had passed.

With a heavy sigh, you lay the camera down on the table, the excitement you had felt earlier replaced with a sense of regret. Joel's words lingered in your head, reminding you of the excitement you had felt earlier, replaced by a sense of remorse. Joel's words echoed in your mind, a reminder of the need to grow and learn from your mistakes.

You walked upstairs to your room, and with a heavy heart, you lay in bed, the events of the day on your mind. Despite the comfort of the blankets that surrounded you, you couldn't shake the sense of remorse and sorrow that persisted within you.

You closed your eyes and replayed the conversation with Joel in your head, each word stinging like a sharp reminder of your failure. You knew you'd let him down, and the thought gnawed at you, leaving a bad taste in your mouth.

And as you drifted off to sleep, the weight of Joel's disappointment gradually began to lighten. A few hours later, you awoke to the faint click of a camera shutter. Blinking sleepily, you opened your eyes to see Joel standing by the bedside, a tiny smile on his lips as he held the camera.

"What are you doing?" you said, your voice still laced with sleepiness.

Joel chuckled and lowered his camera as he neared the bed. "Just capturing a moment," he said, his eyes filled with adoration as he glanced down at you. In confusion, you furrowed your brow and sat up slightly in bed. "A moment of me sleeping?" you asked, feeling both amused and fascinated.

Joel nodded, his smile growing wider. "Yes, a second while you sleep. You looked beautiful; I couldn’t resist."

Despite the lingering anger from earlier, Joel's gesture made you feel warm. It was a modest act, but it showed a lot about his remorse and faith in your relationship. Reaching out, you took the camera from Joel's hands, studying the image of yourself sleeping soundly.

"I look horrible," you muttered. Joel softened his smile and leaned in to kiss your forehead. "Liar," he muttered. "Sorry for how I acted earlier." He moved forward, pressing his lips against your cheek this time.

"You're just an old, grumpy man," you remember, with a tiny giggle. His soft kisses eased the tension between you. His amusing response lightened the mood and lifted the sadness that had been in your heart.

"Old grumpy man, huh?" Joel chuckled, shaking his head in mock indignation. “I’ll show you what this old, grumpy man can do,” he said, planting a more urgent kiss on your lips this time.

You worked hard in the weeks following your fight with Joel to repair the distance that had grown between you. Despite the apparent signs of peacemaking, you still had a persistent sense of insecurity.

Then a new woman arrived in Jackson. She was closer to Joel's age, and you couldn't help but notice the easy connection that had developed between them. They spent a lot of time together, whether on patrol with Tommy or speaking in the common areas of Jackson.

You tried to ignore the jealousy that was bubbling up inside of you. After all, Joel had always been polite and accommodating to strangers, so there was no reason to suspect anything other than friendship between them.

But as the days went on and you saw Joel and the new woman form a stronger bond, your concern grew. You couldn't escape the nagging suspicion that there was something more between them—something that harmed the precious trust you'd worked so hard to build. 

On today's evening, as you watched Joel and the woman laugh from across the room, you felt a pang of jealousy. You excused yourself and withdrew from the privacy of your thoughts since you could no longer contain your feelings.

You were alone in the living room, struggling with opposite emotions. Part of you felt ashamed for doubting Joel and allowing jealousy to cloud your thinking. But another part of you couldn't help but feel sad and insecure as if you weren't enough for him; after all, it wasn't just you, him, and Ellie outdoors any longer, and here in Jackson, you weren't the last woman in the world.

As you sat alone in the living room, buried in your thoughts, the sound of steps broke your state of trance. Looking up, you noticed Ellie enter the home, looking bright and cheerful, until she spotted your teary eyes.

"Hey, I missed you at dinner in the bar," Ellie said, concern etching her features as she approached you. "Is everything okay?"

You tried to brush off her concern with a forced smile, but Ellie wasn't fooled. "Yeah, everything's fine," you replied, your voice betraying the turmoil within you.

But Ellie wasn't about to let it go that easily. She moved closer, her gaze searching yours with intensity. "No, it's not. What happened? Why are you crying?"

Your heart ached at the concern in Ellie's eyes, and despite your best efforts to hold back the tears, they continued to fall. "I...I don't know," you admitted, feeling the weight of your emotions pressing down on you. "I just...I don't know where Joel is."

Ellie's brow furrowed in confusion. "Joel? He's eating with Tommy and the new girl, why?"

You shook your head, unable to articulate the jumble of emotions swirling inside you. "I don't know," you repeated, feeling the tears threaten to overwhelm you once more. "I just...I need to talk to him."

Sensing the urgency in your voice, Ellie nodded in understanding. "Okay, let's go find him," she said, taking your hand and leading you out of the house.

As you followed Ellie towards the bar, your heart raced with fear and anticipation. You knew that whatever awaited you there, you couldn't continue to let your doubts and insecurities consume you.

Once inside the bar, you noticed Joel in the crowd, his gaze settling on yours with a warmth that shot an emotion through your chest. It was as if a magnetic force drew you closer together, despite any remaining doubts.

You moved across the crowded bar, Ellie's hand firmly clutched in yours, Joel's smile widening, and his gaze never leaving yours.

Finally reaching Joel's side, you felt a wave of relief sweep over you as he held you in his arms. The warmth of his hug swept away the residual frost of doubt, leaving you with an eager sense of calm and belonging.

"I missed you," Joel murmured, his voice soft as he pressed a gentle kiss to your forehead.

"I missed you too," you whispered, your voice barely above a breath as you leaned into Joel's embrace, reveling in the familiar scent of his cologne and the steady rhythm of his heartbeat.

For a moment, the world around you faded into insignificance, leaving only you and Joel locked in a tender embrace. It was as if time itself had slowed to a halt, allowing you to savor the precious moments you shared together.

As Joel pressed a gentle kiss to your forehead, you felt a rush of emotion swell within you, a profound gratitude for the love and support he had always shown you.

As the tender moment between you and Joel lingered, a voice interrupted, pulling you back to the present. "Hey, Joel!" called out a cheerful voice, and you turned to see a woman approaching, a bright smile on her face.

Joel turned to face the stranger, his arm still wrapped over you protectively. "Oh, hey Rachel," he said, a warm smile on his face. "This is my girlfriend," he added, introducing you. Then he turned his face to introduce the stranger to you. "This is Rachel, and she is new to Jackson."

You smiled politely at Rachel, but a tinge of dread came over you as you watched how she drew in closer to Joel, her hand casually resting on his free arm. You repressed a jealous pang and pushed yourself to keep a friendly demeanor, even though your heart squeezed with uncertainty.

"It's nice to meet you, Rachel," you said, your voice solid despite the tumult inside you.

Rachel returned the welcome with a warm grin, and her eyes flickered with intrigue as she glanced. between you and Joel. "Likewise," she replied, her tone friendly but tinged with a hint of flirtation.

As the night went on, you couldn't ignore the sense of unease that hung in the air. Despite your best efforts to ignore it, Rachel's lingering touches and seductive glances at Joel gnawed at your insides, stoking the jealousy that threatened to engulf you.

With each passing moment, it became more difficult to ignore Joel and Rachel's growing friendship. Their laughter and friendly banter got on your nerves, reminding you of the bond that they had.

You tried to ignore your misgivings and enjoy the evening with Joel, but insecurity weighed heavily on you. It felt like you were on the outside looking in, watching helplessly as Joel and Rachel got closer with each passing second.

Rachel's flirtations became more daring as the night progressed, her touches lingering a bit too long and her laughter provocative. Despite your best attempts to remain calm, the jealousy simmering beneath the surface threatened to explode.

You stole looks toward Joel, hoping to find reassurance in his eyes, but he seemed unaware of the impact Rachel's actions were having on you. It was as if she had enchanted him, consuming all of his attention.

You excused yourself from the table, unable to take the sight of Joel and Emily's flirtatious behavior any longer. You could understand, after all, that Joel was a handsome man who hadn't received this much attention since the world ended; yet, that didn't make it any less painful.

As you excused yourself from the table, a slew of feelings surged through you—pain, jealousy, and a deep sense of isolation. You longed for Joel's reassurance, his acknowledgment of the hurt that Rachel's behavior was causing you, but as you stole a glance at him, you saw only obliviousness in his gaze.

With a heavy heart, you moved away, your footsteps quietly echoing on the bar's hardwood floor. You felt Joel's stare on your back, but you couldn't force yourself to look into his eyes, scared of what you might find reflected there.

As you approached the edge of the room, you hesitated, your back facing Joel, struggling to find the perfect words. Finally, you spoke, hardly rising above a whisper. "I need some air," you remarked, your voice filled with anguish.

After a period of silence, you felt Joel's hand on your arm, warm and soothing. "Hey," he replied quietly, his voice full of concern. "Are you okay?"

You turned to face him, meeting his gaze with a mixture of longing and frustration. "I just...I need some time," you replied, your voice trembling slightly. "I'll be outside."

Joel's expression softened, and his eyes filled with understanding as he nodded in response. "I'll come find you," he promised, his voice gentle as he squeezed your hand.

But instead, as you walked towards the house, the weight of the evening's events bearing down on you, you felt Joel's presence beside you. His steps were quiet, but his presence was comforting, a silent reassurance that you were not alone in your pain.

"Hey," Joel said softly, his voice breaking the silence between you. "I'm sorry about back there. I didn't realize... I didn't mean to make you feel uncomfortable."

You glanced sideways at Joel, the warmth of his gaze softening the edges of your frustration. "It's not your fault," you replied, your voice tinged with sadness. "I know you didn't mean to."

Joel fell into a step beside you, his hand reaching out to brush against yours. "I just want you to know that you're the only one for me," he said earnestly, his voice filled with sincerity. "No one else matters, not like you do."

“You could have told her about it,” you said, frustration edging into your tone.

Joel's expression faltered slightly at your words, a hint of defensiveness flickering in his eyes. "I didn't think it was necessary," he replied, his tone tinged with irritation. "I didn't want to embarrass her or make things awkward."

You felt a surge of frustration rising within you, the sting of jealousy and insecurity reigniting in your chest. "But by not saying anything, you made me feel like my feelings didn't matter," you countered, your voice tinged with hurt. "You made me doubt myself; doubt us."

Joel sighed, running a hand through his hair in frustration. "I'm sorry," he said, his voice strained. "I didn't mean to make you feel that way. I just didn't know how to handle the situation."

The tension between you hung heavy in the air, the weight of unspoken words and unresolved emotions pressing down on both of you. You wanted to believe Joel's assurances of love and devotion, but the lingering doubts and insecurities threatened to cloud your judgment.

"I need to rest," you said, changing the subject, your voice steady but tinged with sadness. "Tomorrow, we need to get up early for the patrol.”

“Actually, I’m not coming with you,” he said carefully.

“What? Why?”

“I’ll promise Rachel to...“

The air crackled with tension as Joel's words hung between you, his admission weighing heavily on your heart. Anger flared within you, fueled by hurt and betrayal.

"Why?" you demanded, your voice laced with frustration and disappointment. "Why would you choose her over me?

Joel's expression softened, and his eyes filled with regret. "I’m not choosing her over you; I would never do that," he replied, his voice tinged with guilt. "I didn't realize it would upset you."

You shook your head, unable to hide your frustration. "You should have talked to me about it first," you said, your voice trembling with emotion. "You should have considered my feelings."

With a heavy heart, you turned away from Joel, the ache of disappointment echoing within you. As you retreated into the solitude of your thoughts, you couldn't help but wonder if your relationship could withstand this latest test or if it was destined to crumble beneath the weight of unresolved conflicts and broken promises.

“You’re sleeping on the couch tonight!” you exclaimed as you kept walking.

The next morning dawned with a strong sense of tension in the air, the previous night's events still fresh in your mind. As you awoke from your sleep and began to prepare for the day ahead, the pain of disappointment and deceit chewed at your heart, casting a shadow on the early sun.

With a heavy sigh, you pushed aside any remaining doubts and concerns, determined to focus on the task at hand. As you approached the kitchen, the aroma of freshly brewed coffee filled the air, a soothing reminder of Joel's presence.

You discovered him standing by the counter, holding a warm mug of coffee, and preparing a second cup for you. His expression was solemn.

His eyes were downcast, as if weighted down by the events of the night before.

"Morning, angel," he said, his voice tinged with regret, as he gave you the mug. "I made some coffee."

“Thank you, but I’m leaving,” you replied, shortly walking towards the door.

"Angel, wait," Joel called out, his voice pleading as he reached out to gently grasp your arm, halting your departure. His touch was warm against your skin, a silent plea for you to stay and hear him out.

You hesitated, torn between the desire to escape the tension that hung between you and the longing to resolve the issues that had driven a wedge between you and Joel. With a heavy sigh, you turned to face him, the weight of uncertainty pressing down on you like a leaden blanket.

“Take care; you know your safety is the most important thing for me,” he reassured, meeting your sad gaze.

"What a shame you're not going to be there to protect me," you replied bitterly, unable to mask the hurt in your voice. The words spilled out before you could stop them, a reflection of the pain and frustration that churned within you.

Joel's expression softened; his eyes filled with remorse as he reached out to gently cup your cheek.

Joel closed the distance between you, his lips meeting yours in a tender kiss filled with longing and remorse. It was a silent reassurance of his love and commitment, a promise to mend the wounds that had been inflicted upon your relationship.

As the kiss lingered, you felt a sense of peace wash over you, the weight of uncertainty lifting ever so slightly from your shoulders. Despite the pain and hurt, you knew that Joel was sincere in his desire to make things right, and you were willing to give him another chance.

Pulling away, Joel met your gaze with a mixture of regret and determination. "We'll talk when you get back," he said softly, his voice filled with resolve. "I'll be here waiting for you, ready to make things right."

With a nod of agreement, you returned Joel's gaze, a silent acknowledgment of your shared commitment to each other.

As you and Tommy ventured out on patrol, the rhythm of your footsteps echoed against the deserted streets of Jackson. The tension that had weighed heavily on you began to ease slightly, replaced by a sense of purpose as you focused on the task at hand.

"So, what happened between you and Joel?" Tommy asked, breaking the silence that had settled between you. His voice was filled with concern, and his eyes were studying your expression carefully.

You sighed, the events of the previous night still fresh in your mind. "We had an argument," you admitted reluctantly, the words heavy on your tongue. "I just don't know how to trust him again."

Tommy nodded in understanding, his expression sympathetic. "I get it," he said softly. "But you have to remember, Joel cares about you more than anything. He'd do anything to protect you, even if he doesn't always show it the right way."

You mulled over Tommy's words, the weight of his reassurance providing some measure of comfort amidst the uncertainty that plagued you. Despite the doubts that lingered in your mind, you knew that, deep down, Joel's intentions were genuine and his love for you was unwavering.

"I know," you replied, a sense of resolve creeping into your voice. "I just need to figure things out."

Tommy placed a reassuring hand on your shoulder, his gaze filled with empathy. "You will," he said confidently. "And when you do, Joel will be right there waiting for you, ready to make things right."

With a nod of gratitude, you continued on your patrol, the weight of uncertainty still heavy on your shoulders but with a glimmer of hope shining through the darkness. As you walked, you couldn't help but feel grateful for Tommy's support and reassurance, knowing that with his guidance and the strength of your bond with Joel, you would find a way to navigate the challenges that lay ahead.

“Of course, you will say nice things about your stupid brother,” you joked.

Tommy chuckled at your jest, the sound carrying through the quiet streets as you continued on your patrol. "Hey, he may be stubborn and thick-headed sometimes, but Joel's got a good heart," he said with a grin. "And he cares about you more than anything."

You couldn't help but smile at Tommy's words, grateful for his unwavering support and his ability to see the best in Joel, even in the midst of conflict. "Thanks, Tommy," you said sincerely, the weight of uncertainty lifting ever so slightly from your shoulders. "I appreciate it."

Tommy nodded in response, his expression filled with understanding. "Anytime," he replied, his voice laced with warmth. "We're family, after all. And family sticks together, no matter what."

As you and Tommy continued your patrol around Jackson, everything was eerily quiet, with the only sound being the subtle crunch of gravel beneath your feet. The weight of insecurity lingered in the air, but you pressed on, determined to do your job and safeguard your town.

A group of people appeared from the shadows unexpectedly, their faces hidden by the night's darkness. Your heart jumped into your throat as you understood the danger that was immediately surrounding you.

You weren't a weak person; in fact, people considered you a powerful fighter, always merciless when it was required and determined to save the ones you cared about, so your instincts kicked in and your senses heightened as adrenaline flowed through veins. Despite the suddenness of the attack, you maintained your composure, guided by your training and expertise.

Until one of them grabbed you and pinned you down, your heart raced with a mix of fear and determination. You struggled against their hold, every muscle in your body tensing as you fought to break free. Despite the adrenaline coursing through your veins, the grip of your assailant remained firm, their strength overpowering.

With a surge of desperation, you summoned all your strength and training, channeling it into a fierce struggle to break free. Your mind raced with thoughts of escape, of finding a way to overcome this unexpected obstacle and emerge victorious.

Beside you, Tommy fought valiantly against the other attackers, his determination matching your own as he defended against the onslaught. Though outnumbered and caught off guard, you refused to give in, clinging to the hope that help would soon arrive.

“So, you’re Joel’s Miller girl,” a feminine voice said.

The voice cut through the chaos, freezing you momentarily as you tried to recognize the mocking tone. Despite the tense situation, a surge of anger flared within you at the mention of Joel's name. You refused to let fear or intimidation weaken your resolve.

With renewed determination, you continued to struggle against your assailant's hold, your mind racing with thoughts of escape and survival. Every fiber of your being was focused on breaking free and finding a way to overcome this threat and protect yourself and Tommy.

“Tommy!” you exclaimed, worry creeping up with you.

“I’m fine!” he reassured back.

“What do you want?” You asked the girl, who is now in front of you.

The girl smirked, her eyes filled with venom as she peered down at you, pinned under her. "What do I want?" she said, her voice full of scorn. "I'd like to send a message to your dear Joel. I want him to understand that no one is safe, including his girl."

Her statements enraged your fury, but you kept calm, refusing to show any signs of weakness in the face of her remarks. "And what message would that be?" you asked, your voice steady despite what was occurring.

As she drew in closer, the girl's smirk deepened, and her eyes took on a malicious glitter. "The message is simple," she stated, her voice low and frightening. "I will take away what he loves.

the most from him, as he did with me.”

“What?” but before you could even realize what was happening, you felt a sharp pain through your abdomen.

The sharp pain ripped through your abdomen, stealing the breath from your lungs as you gasped in shock. A guttural cry of agony escaped your lips as you felt blood seeping from the wound, staining your clothes crimson.

The girl's cruel laughter echoed in your ears as she withdrew the weapon, a twisted smirk of satisfaction twisting her features. "That's the message," she said coldly, her voice dripping with malice.

You didn’t want to die here without seeing the smiles of the people you loved.

Your vision blurred as waves of pain washed over you, threatening to drag you into unconsciousness. Through the haze of agony, you fought to stay conscious, your thoughts consumed by a desperate need to survive, to make it back to Joel, to warn him of the danger that now threatened you both.

“Hey, stay with me. I’m taking you to Jackson,” Tommy said desperately, but his voice was just an echo at this time.

The world seemed to spin around you as you fought to hold onto consciousness, Tommy's voice barely registering amidst the haze of pain and confusion. Every fiber of your being screamed in agony, but you refused to succumb to the darkness that threatened to consume you.

With a herculean effort, you summoned whatever strength remained within you, clinging to Tommy's words like a lifeline. Through sheer force of will, you forced your eyes to focus, locking onto Tommy's determined gaze as he lifted you into his arms.

The journey back to Jackson was a blur of agony and desperation, with each step sending waves of pain coursing through your battered body. But with every labored breath, you clung to the hope that burned within you—a determination to survive and protect those you loved.

As the walls of Jackson loomed into view, relief flooded through you, a flicker of hope amidst the darkness. With Tommy's unwavering support, you stumbled towards safety, with the promise of medical aid and the comfort of Joel's embrace urging you forward.

As you were carried through the gates of Jackson, the weight of exhaustion and pain threatened to overwhelm you.

Tommy stepped into Jackson's doors, crying out for help as you lay practically still in his arms. The wound in your stomach was major, and he couldn't shake the thought that you would die as a result of his inability to protect you.

As Tommy stormed through the doors of Jackson, his voice buzzing with desperation, terror spread throughout the neighborhoods. People turned their heads, concerned expressions on their faces, as they saw you almost unresponsive in his arms, crimson blood covering the clothes you were wearing.

A crowd swiftly gathered around Tommy, their alarming murmuring filling the air. Tommy ignored them, focusing entirely on getting you the help you so desperately needed.

As Tommy went towards the improvised infirmary, frantic yells sounded out, requesting the medical attention they had here. His steps were heavy with guilt, and each instant seemed to last forever as he feared the worst.

Finally, the infirmary doors swung open, and a team of medics led by Jackson hurried forward to take you from Tommy's arms. They worked fast and effectively, their expressions serious as they assessed the seriousness of your injury. 

Tommy stood back, his hands quivering with terror and remorse, as he saw the doctor rush into action. He couldn't shake the notion that your condition was a result of his failing to safeguard you from harm.

Joel's heart was tight with fear when he saw a commotion near the infirmary. Without hesitation, he raced towards the crowd, his instincts screaming for him to get to you as soon as possible.

Joel's heart raced in his chest as he pushed his way through the crowd, finally arriving at the infirmary entrance. He saw you, pale and frail, in the arms of the doctors, your life hanging in limbo.

Joel moved forward without hesitation, arms outstretched, reaching for you. "No," he murmured hoarsely, terror and desperation evident in his tone. "Please, don't let her die."

The medics stepped aside, allowing Joel to take you into his arms. As he held you close, he could feel the warmth of your body against his, but it was too still, too fragile. Tears welled in his eyes as he pressed a gentle kiss to your forehead, silently praying for your recovery.

“Hey, angel,” he murmured, finding strength in his voice. “Open those beautiful eyes of yours for me, baby, okay? Please, do it!” He continued sobbing as he caressed your hair. “I can lose everything, but not you... Oh god, not you, please?”

Joel kept holding you in his arms, preventing you from going away from him, and you could feel his touch, his care, and his voice pleading with you to stay with him. You wanted that, you wanted so bad, but the strength was dying inside you, and everything you ever knew went black.

You became a lifeless frame in the arms of your biggest love. When you stopped breathing, Joel’s heart stopped beating because, as if it was glass, it shattered.

The look of the doctor and the face of Tommy told them the truth he didn’t want to acknowledge, confirming the unthinkable: you were gone. In that moment, time seemed to stand still as Joel's world shattered around him. He clung to your lifeless form, his body racked with sobs as he struggled to comprehend the enormity of his loss.

"No, no, please," Joel choked out, his voice breaking with grief as he held you close, unwilling to accept the truth of what had just happened. Tears streamed down his cheeks unchecked, his sobs echoing in the silence of the infirmary.

For a moment, time stood still as Joel clung to you, unwilling to let go and unwilling to accept that you were gone. The world around him blurred, and the pain in his heart was too overwhelming to bear.

But as the reality of your loss settled over him, Joel's grief turned to rage, a primal, consuming fury that burned through him like wildfire. With a guttural cry of anguish, he cradled you in his arms, his body trembling with the force of his emotions.

In that moment, Joel felt as if his world had come crashing down around him, leaving nothing but darkness and despair in its wake. He had lost everything—the love of his life, his reason for living, his angel.

And as he held you close, his heart shattered into a million pieces, each one a painful reminder of the love he had lost and the life that had been snuffed out too soon. For Joel, the world had ceased to exist, consumed by the gaping void left in the wake of your passing.

He was never going to kiss you again; he was never going to hold you close at night or wake up to your smile in the morning. The future he had imagined, filled with laughter and love, now lay shattered at his feet.

A few hours later, Joel woke up in your shared bed, and you were sleeping next to him.

Joel's hand extended out to touch you, and a sense of warmth and comfort came over him. For a little while, he felt the smoothness of your skin beneath his fingertips and the rise and fall of your chest as you breathed peacefully beside him.

But then reality slammed back in like a tidal wave, yanking him from his comfortable state of sleep. His hand gripped the empty air, his fingers wrapping around nothing but chilly emptiness.

Joel's eyes opened abruptly, and he found himself lying in the dimly lit space, alone in the bed that had previously accommodated both of you. The ache in his chest returned with vengeance, a searing pang of anguish piercing his heart as he realized you were no longer alongside him.

Joel let out a deep sigh as he ran his hand through his hair, the memories of the dream still fresh in his mind. It felt so genuine and so vivid that, for a brief minute, he believed you were still alive and with him.

You were gone, taken from him in a cruel twist of fate, and no amount of dreaming could bring you back to him.

It's been a week, and he didn't attend your funeral because he was unable to accept that you were no longer alive.

Until today, when he stepped out of the house, which was surrounded by the flowers that some members of the community had left for you, and walked to your graveyard.

As Joel approached your graveyard, he felt an enormous burden settle over him—the weight of grief and loss that had been his constant companion in the days since your death. The walk appeared longer than it had ever been, with each step weighed down by the weight of his grief.

As he reached the grave, Joel's heart tightened with agony and need. The sight of the newly turned earth and the plain headstone traced your name as if it were your face. Joel's heart tightened with agony and need. The sight of freshly churned ground, with a simple monument marking your final resting place, acted as a sharp reminder of your absence.

"I'm sorry," he whispered, his voice choked with emotion. "I'm sorry I couldn't protect you; I'm sorry I couldn't save you."

Tears welled in Joel's eyes as he laid a bouquet of flowers at the foot of the headstone, each bloom a silent tribute to the love and loss he felt in his heart. The scent of the flowers mingled with the earthy aroma of the graveyard, a poignant reminder of the fleeting beauty of life and the inevitability of death.

Joel's voice quivered as he spoke, every word heavy with the weight of his despair and sorrow. He kneeled near the grave, his hand resting on the cool surface of the headstone, seeking comfort in the memory of your love.

"I want you to know that it was never me who protected you, but you who protected me," Joel said quietly, his words barely audible above the delicate murmur of the wind through the trees. "You were always the one who gave me strength, who showed me what it meant to love and to be loved."

As Joel spoke, tears streamed down his cheeks, revealing his real and unadulterated grief. At that time, surrounded by the serene tranquility of the graveyard, he felt profound loss, a yawning void that could never be filled.

"But now you're gone," Joel added, his voice breaking with sadness. "And I do not know how to go on without you."

Joel rose to his feet after one final long glance at the headstone, a sensation of purpose coming over him. He may have lost you, but he promised to always carry your love with him, to respect your memory in all he did, and to find a way to move forward, even in the face of his greatest pain.

You were always in every star shining above, in the sky.

He was back in the dimly lit room, with the weight of the grief still over his shoulders, and with trembling hands, he reached for the small camera you had traded, his fingers tracing the familiar contours of the device.

As he turned it on, the screen flickered to life, illuminating the darkness with a soft glow. And there, displayed before him, was the image he had captured of your sleeping, your peaceful expression a bittersweet reminder of how simply you could make him happy.

With a heavy heart, Joel reached out, his fingertips gently tracing the patterns of your face on the screen. It was as if he could feel your presence beside him.

Tears welled in Joel's eyes as he lingered on the image, his heart aching with longing for the touch he could no longer feel. But in that moment, surrounded by memories of you, he found a glimmer of solace, a reminder that though you were gone, your love would always remain.

[changetyre]

How long? II Lando Norris X Reader ⓈⒾ

SUMMARY: Finding your soulmate doesn't always include a happy ending.

WARNINGS: Angst Angst Angst with a sprinkle of fluff. Sickness, death.

A/N: This is a story I wrote a while ago for Wattpad and which I always loved but reading it back now there's been things I've wanted to adjust which is what I chose to do here ;)

Lando POV II 

"Tell me about her," she asked me passing me back our photo. 

I looked at it, my thumb grazing over her in the picture I kept in my wallet.

_____

Y/N POV II 

Lando and I've been together ever since I can remember. We met when we were only toddlers and became inseparable ever since. We both knew in our hearts how much we meant to each other, we knew that we couldn't live without each other. However, another part of us, and everyone around us, told us there would come a point where we'd meet other people.

And we did meet other people, in fact when I went to college and Lando joined F1 we both decided to try to date others and it was the most miserable time in both our lives. Which only reinforced our feelings, we were irrevocably in love.

We were aware that we were a very cheesy couple, the kind of people who just didn't care when people were around us and loved to show our love for one another no matter the time and/or place. We were the kind of couple to gift each other little things and have dinner dates every week. Land never failed to bring me flowers every weekend since we started dating.

Life felt like a dream when we were around each other, we literally felt like we were in the clouds, floating in our own bubble of love. But it didn't take long before it burst. 

Given the amount of time Lando and I had spent together we had discussed anything you could possibly imagine and despite some thinking this was a horrible and selfish thought, when Lando and I talked about losing one another, we always thought he would go first...simply because of his job.

What Lando didn't know though was that every night and every time Lando went on track I would pray, pray for his safety, pray for his health, pray that if one of us had to go...for it to be me...because I could simply not live a life without him...the single thought made me choke up. 

'Be careful what you wish for.'

One year ago I was diagnosed with Breast cancer. For some reason the news didn't come to me as much of a shock as I thought, it was like something in my mind and body had expected this, had somehow mentally prepared me for it. On the other hand, I could tell how much this devastated Lando, so much he'd set his mind on quitting F1 to care for me which I had to practically force him not to. 

We had caught it early on and I only needed a few weeks of chemotherapy. Luckily the news came at the end of Lando's season, he would be home and he wouldn't get distracted on track.

Chemo was worse than anyone had ever described to me, it felt like I'd been completely stripped away from my own body and I was miserable but I knew I had to get through it, I tried to keep a smile all the way through it, for Lando, but I knew he could see right through me and he had as many sleepless nights as I did through it all.

Finally the last week of Chemo, everything was better. Lando was certainly brighter than before although I could tell he was still worried, I could see it in his eyes. Every time I'd say I was tired, huff, breath abnormally, or complain about any sort of pain I could tell Lando's heart skipped a beat.

It annoyed me at first because he constantly hovered, but I never said anything and eventually, I understood. I knew that if I was in his shoes I'd be exactly the same and now I found myself wondering whether I'd wished for the right position to be in because even though I was in pain physically...Lando was in pain too, even more than I was...and it broke my heart to see him go through it.

Now I wanted the season to start more than ever so Lando could put his focus and worry somewhere else other than me, and even though I worried that he might have an accident because of all this distraction I knew how much he adored driving and it was what he needed. 

The start of the season went well, not as good as we expected but it was good enough and the boys still had the rest of the season left.

I was with Lando in Monaco for the race, I was so excited about having him race here in Monaco since we'd recently bought our apartment here and we hadn't been able to enjoy it because of my treatments. 

It seemed like things were finally getting back to normal, Lando and I were floating back up in the clouds again and we were finally finding our rhythm again...it was almost too good to be true. 

I was home making dinner for Lando and me, he'd texted he was almost home and I'd decided to make some food for us. The whole day I'd noticed I was particularly exhausted and I kept running out of breath doing simple things. I had just set the table when all of a sudden it felt like my lungs had disappeared.

I dropped to the ground in pain gasping with all my power for some air. I thought I was going to die right there and then all until I heard the door open.

"Y/N!" I heard Lando's panicked scream. "LOVE!"

He pulled me up and turned me towards him, I clutched my chest. "I can't breathe." I wheezed.

"SOMEONE HELP ME!" He screamed out.

And eventually, for me, everything went black.

__

I woke up on an all too familiar surface. I was in a hospital bed, all sorts of tubes and needles attached to me. I looked for Lando and saw he was outside talking to the doctor, I could see him through the window.

Lando was facing my way while the doctor's back was towards me. I could tell it was a serious conversation and as much as I tried to deny it I knew what was happening. The cancer was back...and this time it wasn't going away.

I saw the anger and pain in Lando's eyes as the doctor spoke to him, he argued. I imagined he kept asking for a solution that simply didn't exist. Lando held his tears in all until he locked eyes with me. I gave him a look letting him know it was okay, I knew and that was enough for him to break down.

The doctor simply patted his shoulder before walking away. Lando walked to the room wiping his tears away as best as he could. Once he came in I could tell he didn't know what to say.

"It's back-" he spoke in barely above a whisper. 

"I know baby." I opened my arms for him and he broke down in tears again. I cried with him, not because of my pain but because of his.

"How long?" I asked him after a few minutes.

Lando kept his head buried in my chest but I could feel him shaking his head.

"Baby how long?" I repeated the question.

His head finally rose up, his eyes were swollen and the tears just kept coming. "They're not sure, he says it could be 6 months or a week." Lando's voice broke at the last words before he buried his face in my chest once more except this time he wrapped his arms around me holding me tightly as if I could slip away at any second.

"I love you..." he wept "I'm so sorry." these last words shattered me.

"I'm sorry too...I love you." I whispered to him as I kissed the top of his head.

"Baby I'm scared-" he whispered into my chest. 

I didn't exactly know how to comfort him, I let Lando cry it out as much as he needed to while I tried to remain strong, I found myself pondering over how I felt, I wasn't scared but I was in pain, and I was so miserable for leaving Lando like this, we definitely didn't have enough time together.

___

The next morning once Lando had come back into my room with a cup of coffee I decided it was time to talk about the next step. I knew deep down Lando still wanted to push for a cure that simply didn't exist but I also knew I didn't want to spend another second stuck in these hideous grey walls.

"Baby I want to get out here," I spoke. I was prepared for a discussion.

Lando simply looked down and gave a shaky sigh. "I know...and I'll get you out." his lip quivered and I could see tears brimming up in his eyes again.

"You're not going to ask me to stay?" I needed confirmation.

Lando got up and walked over to me, he scooted me over and sat down on the bed. "The day I met you-" he took a deep breath trying to keep himself together. "I made a promise to myself that I would do everything in my power to make you happy no matter what-" a tear slipped down his cheek. "I hope you know that if it was possible I'd take your place right now because seeing you like this..." another tear fell down his cheek. "it's been hell." I placed my hand on his cheek caressing it, I was crying too. "But I know you better than anyone and I know that you're not the kind of person to go out in a hospital room and I know you want to do as much as you can before you-" he stopped himself and his breath hitched. He couldn't say it.

"You're right." I quickly said not wanting him to finish because I could tell how hard it was for him. "I want to spend every second I have left with you, with the people I love, out of here." His lip quivered again as more tears left his eyes.

"Let's go then." Lando got back up starting to pack my things.

The news spread through the F1 world fairly quickly and I was flooded with pitiful messages all over my social media. Lando's friends from work who I'd grown close to didn't know what to say when I showed up in the paddock with them for the Monaco GP. Most of them simply gave me glances that spoke a thousand words.

Carlos, Alex, George, and Charles had all been incapable of holding their tears back as they saw me, giving me a hug that only existed for these situations.

After the Monaco GP, Lando and I found ourselves going to our favorite spots within Monaco, I was tired, so tired and I could feel death inching closer every day but I held on, I held on because...I knew he wasn't ready...I wasn't ready.

One morning I woke up to find Lando had planned a whole day for us and it all started at home. I'd walked to the living room to find Lando had prepared a very scrumptious breakfast. And he'd decorated our balcony with roses and candles.

We walked to it and there Lando got down on one knee, pulling out a small black box, which he opened to reveal a ring. My hands flew up to my mouth, I had always dreamed of this day but certainly not like this.

"My dearest y/n, I've imagined this very day over a thousand times in my head and I've come up with hundreds of speeches for this very occasion but it seems none of them would work for what we're going through now." His voice broke. "You have been the first and only woman in my life I have ever loved, you have been my best friend since day one, you've been my rock, my world, my everything and I simply do not want to spend another day not being able to call you my wife...so y/n, my love will you marry me?" I could tell he sped up the last bit to hold his tears back.

"Yes." I let him slip the ring on my finger before he rose up and we engulfed each other in a deep kiss.

"Propose...check" he pretended to hold a list and checked off the first point making me laugh.

"So what's next my fiancé," I asked him.

"Well, why don't we get going and I'll show you...my fiancé." he gave me another kiss.

Lando took me shopping for a bit before he drove us both back home. I'd noticed something else had been set up and once I walked into our room I found a wedding dress hanging in our closet. I gasped admiring the dress, it was simple but beautiful.

"Pietra helped me pick it out for you, we tried getting a more over-the-top one but apparently you can't just buy dresses like that overnight." he shrugged.

"It's beautiful." you admired the dress.

"Well you better get dressed, and I'll do the same. I'm going to get dressed somewhere else and when the time comes your driver will be here." he winked.

"Wait what?" I was confused.

"Just be ready in 2 hours...I love you." he gave me a quick peck on the lips before walking out. I got dressed and ready as best as I could with the time I had left, I did a simple hairstyle, partly because I was never good at doing my hair and partly because I barely had the strength to keep my arms up for longer than 3 seconds. 

20 minutes before the 2 hours were up I heard a knock at the door. I opened it and Pietra, Alexandra, Lily, and Carmen were all standing there in matching dresses. You looked at them confused but on the brink of tears because of how beautiful they looked.  "Did I die already?" I joked, and they laughed but I could tell the thought pained them. 

"You look beautiful." P had to pat her eyes as she looked at me. I had naturally grown closest to her because of the brotherhood between Max and Lando. 

"Thank you for doing this?" I had to hold my tears back too. 

"Let's go." Alex and Lily extended their hands out for me and I took them walking out with them. We walked downstairs and Carlos was waiting in an Aston Martin DB6 Volante, that had been decorated with white flowers. 

We arrive at the beach to find it prepared for a ceremony, all of Lando's friends from the paddock and his friends from Quadrant were there, as well as both our parents. I just about started crying there and then. 

I got out of the car and Carlos stood there offering me his arm guiding me to one end of the carpet that had been rolled out. I saw Lando at the other end and tears quickly brimmed my eyes. As soon as he laid eyes on me it didn't take him half a second before he started crying too, Max Fewtrell quickly stepped in to hand him a handkerchief even though he was shedding a few tears too.

Without You by Harry Nilson started playing, and it was enough for me to let my tears run free. Carmen handed me a bouquet of roses and I began walking down the aisle, and for some reason, all my strength seemed to leave me right there and then. 

I stumbled causing everyone to try to jump forward to grab me, My mom caught me, I could see the concern and the pain in her eyes but she also understood I needed to keep going. She wrapped her arm around my waist and helped me down the aisle. 

And now it's only fair that I should let you know what you should know...I can't live, if living is without you...I can't live, I can't give anymore. 

The song reached this part just as I reached him, he wrapped his arms around me, letting his forehead rest on mine. 

"You look beautiful." he sniffled. 

I placed my hand on his cheek before placing a gentle kiss to his forehead. "Let's get married," I whispered to him. 

The ceremony was short, Lando had wanted to arrive at the vows quickly and once we did he pulled out a sheet of paper, a tear was already rolling down his cheek. 

"My best friend, my rock, my first love, my only love, my life, my world, my everything, these words don't come remotely close to describing what you are to me. I hope you know I consider myself the luckiest man on earth to have met you, to have loved you, to have cared for you, and to have married you-" he chocked up. "But although I thought it was impossible...as much as I feel the luckiest man...I feel the unluckiest too." he looked up to meet my eyes completely distraught. "It's unfair the world is taking you away from me when our love story has only just begun, all the dreams, all the plans, all the promises I have yet to fulfill to you will stay here while you will go." he gulped down, he had a knot in his throat. "I will cherish, love, and protect you for the rest of the time we have left together, I will continue bringing you flowers every weekend, I'll wake you up with kisses in the morning, I'll make you smile and laugh every day, and most importantly I will, with all my power, do my best to keep you happy." he finished. 

I leaned forward giving him a long kiss on the cheek, now it was my turn and since this was all unexpected I hadn't prepared anything but already had enough to say. 

"My Lando...you have made me the happiest woman on earth since the day I met you. You are the most loyal, hardworking, loving, fun man I have ever known and I consider myself the luckiest woman on earth to have fallen in love with you. And the luckiest woman for you will be the first, last, and only man I will ever love." Lando's lips quivered as I said those words, a sob escaping his lips. "I will forever be sorry that we didn't get more time together, that I couldn't give you what we had so long hoped for, a life, kids, to grow old together." I cleared my throat having to compose myself. "I wish there was more I could do to keep you happy in the time I have left my darling, I can't promise you much, but I promise that I will love you with every fiber of my body and soul until my last breath." I ended. 

We were pronounced husband and wife and Lando pulled me in for a long deep kiss, mixed with both our tears. 

It was the most perfect day of my life, surrounded by so much love from our families and friends, surrounded by so much happiness. Once the moon was out and the tide started rising things started getting packed up but Lando and I decided to take a walk along the beach. 

We walked in silence, simply appreciating and cherishing each other's company. Once we were nearing the end of the beach I had to speak about what was on my mind. 

"Lando." I started. 

"No." he immediately replied. 

"Baby-" I was going to keep going. 

"I know what you're going to say and you can't ask me that-" he spoke softly but I could hear the anger and hurt in his voice. 

"Lando listen to me please-" I stopped making Lando turn to me. He looked down and he was crying silent tears. "After I'm gone I need you to promise me you will keep going no matter how hard or painful it is...I want you to give your career 1000% percent like you always have...and someday whenever you're ready I want you to find someone who will make you happy, who will take care of you, who you will fall in love with and start a family with-" I spoke clearly, this was a thought I'd head since the first time I'd found out I was sick. 

"No, I can't." He replied sniffling. 

"Yes you can and you will," I assured him. 

"How will I ever love someone as I love you..." he locked eyes with me. 

"I'm not asking you to love someone as you love me. But you will learn to love again, I just want you to promise you will not shut yourself out, you need to keep going...for me." I walked up to him, wrapping my arms around his neck, with one hand I wiped the tears from under his eyes. 

He looked at me unsure and simply nodded, I knew he didn't mean it right now but it was as much reassurance as I would get from him for now. 

"I'll never find anyone like you." He spoke once we'd started walking back. 

"Maybe not, but you will find someone, there's plenty of women out there Lando, amazing, beautiful, incredibly talented women and I'm sure there's someone else for you." the mood had livened up a little bit. 

____

LANDO POV II 

The next morning I woke up...she didn't. She'd passed in her sleep, in my arms. A smile was still on her lips. I knew she was gone but I still tried to wake her, I still needed her to wake up.

I was inconsolable for months after her death, and my friends and my family had to help me back to my feet. Literally, because it was as though all my strength, all my will to live had died with her that day.

"She made me promise her that I would find someone else, that I'd fall in love again." I stifled a laugh remembering our walk at the beach. 

"She sounds like an amazing woman." She commented. She had a very genuine smile. 

"She was...I never met anyone like her." I sighed, that ache in my heart was still very present but bearable now.

_____________

Bonus A/N: 

If it serves as any consolation I cried my eyes out writing this story. . 

[teeskzagain]

original post got taken down unfortunately😔😔, here is the updated version

Anonymous asked:

I keep imagining Mingi forcing you to cockwarm him at a movie theatre AHHHHHHSHSHH and like he teases you by occasionally thrusting up to hit all the right places and saying it was just him “getting comfy” or “he had a cramp” when he really just enjoys seeing you try to keep everything together 👹 I also feel like he’d whisper in your ear like “pay attention Angel, I didn’t spend money on these tickets for nothing” WITH HIS DEEP ASS VOICE AHHHHHH IK GENUINELY TWEAKING RN- 🙏🧎‍♀️AHEM- He would also SO massage your thighs and hips (IMAGINE THROWING YOUR HEAD BACK AND HE STARTS PEPPERING YOUR NECK WITH KISSESHSJSHSHHSJSGRRRRRRRRR)

There are so many “also’s” in that sentence 💀 BUT WHATEVER YOU GET THE POINT HOPEFULLY 🤡 don’t feel at all obligated to make anything of this especially since idek if you take requests 😭 I just thought that this is such a YUMMY Drabble prompt 😀 and HAD to share it <3 take care pookemssss

OHH??? uh first off I would like to say I'D LOVE TO TAKE REQUESTS (you're actually the first to provide me with a prompt) and second this is so absolutely delicious.

warnings: smut (COCKWARMING, exhibition, semi-public, teasing, kissing) 18+

wc: 1.2k

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this probably wouldn’t even be the first time you found yourself in this situation. no, it’d be a regular occurrence at this point, a developmental game if you must. that’s why bf!mingi absolutely loves the movies, because that’s when he get’s to play his favorite game.

‘how long are you gonna last this time around?’

imagine bf!mingi, who’s caressing your thigh tenderly with the backs of his fingers, shushing you and mumbling sweetly into your hair while your ass continues to squirm against his pelvis. getting situated always took the longest. so tedious, finding that perfect spot where you can just slide down and onto his lap, your walls gripping his cock and swallowing it whole.

he sits idly and unmoving, allowing you to move around for a bit. because at some point, bf!mingi’s gonna start the fun part of the game. the part that really tests your strength.

and once you finally achieve that perfect spot, the sensation makes your face scrunch pleasantly and a soft sigh floats out of you. so entranced, you almost don’t notice the pretty pink blanket, draped over the both of you, slip just slightly down your leg.

“shhhh…okay baby, i need you keep still,” he’d tell you, and a part of him almost doesn’t want to go reposition it. what if he left you out and exposed? imagine, someone walking up and discovering the disgusting scene. it’s exciting him, these thoughts, but soon enough he’s lowering himself down and recovers you two, all the while holding back a smile. it’s enjoyable for him, just the riskiness of it all.

how the dark theatre somehow shadows your lewd actions, yet the monumental screen ahead provides illumination onto your struggling face, “if you wanna win, you know you can’t move.”

after many weeks of playing, you haven’t won a single round. not once. you would get so close, but then luck out whenever bf!mingi would buck a bit too hard, or your own desires began to consume you. every, single round, a loser had been made out of you.

“last time, you couldn’t even make it through the previews before you fucking came all over my legs,” he reminds you, a slow and sick grin spreading wide, “you gonna try harder? wanna get your prize tonight?” it’s pathetic how you have to bite back a mewl from his words.

this is always the hardest part for you: the taunting. it kills you every time.

at the start of the movie, it’s through his teasing voice; his low, grumble of a tone that buzzes perfectly into your head.

“see? already made it through the trailers,” he’d laugh. as a reward the aimless touch he provided earlier turns into a hard grab, kneading at the flesh of your thighs with a quiet groan, “one step closer. just needa make it through the movie.”

then, it’s through his touches.

as you become more conscious of your ragged breaths, his hand trails from your leg and drags up towards your shirt. teasing your breasts through the fabric, he grazes absentmindedly before running then back down your stomach, only stopping when he meets your bare pussy. it takes his full strength to not end the game by just simply fingering the orgasm out of you. but if that were the case, then he wouldn’t be able to see you whither. and that’s always his most favored part.

the most you could do is shut your eyes and pray your body doesn’t betray you. but even that doesn’t get you far, with just a few minutes into the movie, friction starts to build within you. while bf!mingi rests his back against the plush seat, grateful for his top view of the movie theatre, a slow thrust of his hips find a rhythm in your core.

it's torturous. the intentional, unhurried movements, leisurely rocking in and out of you. it's like he's rubbing himself inside you, and you're forced to seal your mouth.

"you holding up okay, angel?" he mutters and you give him a brisk nod, turning to the side momentarily. he finds that comical. your desire to always win. the need to prove him wrong.

but he knows you. he knows you're slipping with every second his leaking cock stays within you, radiating the pleasure you so desperately seek. he knows you're crumbling. you’re gonna unravel soon.

right when you think you've conquered this section of the challenge, a quick shift from underneath you has your eyes vibrating, a small gasp leaving you as bf!mingi practically buries himself closer to your cervix.

"ah, oops, sorry...just need to.." he moves around some more, adjusting his position, along with you, before halting once again, "alright, there we go. i feel much better. how about you?"

the angle he’s now hitting feels like it’s splitting you open and a strained yet airy moan tupples from your lips. with no more strength, your head falls down into the space between his shoulder and neck, eyes shut and brows furrowed, "i can't- i can't do it-"

"mmm, baby, no," he wraps an arm around your torso to reach your cheeks, clasping them together with a smush then forcing you back forward, "baby, you gotta keep your eyes open."

he drops his hand but that doesn't stop your whining, you sobbing out a, "no- i can't-"

"shhh y/n what did i say?,” he locks onto your inner thighs and widens them, “you know i didn't spend money on these damn tickets for nothing. come on, watch the movie."

as you feel him start up again with his quiet thrusts, you loll your head back with a grimace and hooded eyes, little noises now spilling out. your neck fully exposed, bf!mingi takes initiative to lean up and bring his lips to the vast area, nipping and kissing at it. he suctions onto your skin which sends a jolt throughout your core.

and just like that, you're done for.

"you're so close, i can feel it." he whispers on your neck as a devilish smirk overtakes his kisses, "i fucking knew it. i knew you would lose."

his words nearly egg you on as you accept defeat, allowing yourself to succumb to the slow pace of his length sliding against your insides. your fingers curl with the repeated motion, a continuous build up until eventually you burst and your orgasm hits you hard.

it causes you to wriggle against him, contracting your body so tightly you’re shaking then releases you, repeating this over and over again all the while bf!mingi keeps his kisses coming on your neck.

like said, this is always his favorite part of the game. the thing he looks most forward to. because no matter how hard you've tried, it always ends the same.

"aww," he notices your high coming down, excluding the occasional body twitches, "and the movie was almost over."

"you're awful." you could hardly muster that sentence, your back resting on top of his chest while you regain your composure. your cunt still pulsed every now and then around him.

he supplies a silent laugh before going in your ear once more, "well, look at it this way. now we can go home and play your favorite game."

while bf!mingi returns back to his seat, bringing you with him, a small whimper is produced by you. because absolutely not what was to come, your favorite game. in fact, it felt merely like an extension of this game.

‘how many different ways are you gonna make bf!mingi cum tonight?’

[redroomreflections]

Hotel California | Track 3: Metal Voices

Natasha Romanoff x Fem!Reader

Summary: Natasha Romanoff, frontwoman of the punk rock band Velvet Rebellion, falls hard for a woman she believes is too good for her. Their intense relationship unfolds in the chaotic world of rock 'n' roll, where they struggle to balance fame, personal demons, and their undeniable passion for each other.

W/c: 5.8k

Chapter 3/12

Masterlist | General Masterlist

Note: I can't tell if y'all are rocking with this one or not but Imma keep uploading.

Themes: love, fame, sex, drugs

You lay soundly asleep, nestled in your warm cocoon of blankets, the soft comfort of slumber wrapping around you like a cozy embrace. Your fatigue from a long week had finally caught up with you, and your dreams were painted with peaceful serenity.

But then, as if summoned by a mischievous fairy, you felt tiny hands tapping your arm. The gentle, persistent taps grew stronger until they became an undeniable summons from the waking world. Reluctantly, you stirred, your eyelids heavy with the remnants of sleep.

As you blinked yourself into awareness, you found yourself face to face with Isabella who was looking down at you in annoyance. You mumbled groggily, "Too early, Isabella, go back to bed."

Isabella, not one to give in easily, shook her head. "Mama, it's not early. It's noon! I’m going to be late for Lenny’s skate party!"

You blinked in disbelief at the time, grabbed your phone from the nightstand to find the truth, and then threw yourself back into the pillows with a groan." Noon already?” You rubbed a hand over your face. 

Isabella's tone turned stern as she scolded, "Sleeping in until noon is unacceptable, Mama. You promised you'd help me get ready for the party."

You couldn't help but smile at your daughter's seriousness, and you felt a rush of gratitude for having such a responsible child. You glanced at the nightstand and saw a glass of water and aspirin neatly arranged, a thoughtful gesture from Isabella.

You reached for the water and aspirin, whispering your thanks, and then turned to Isabella with a mischievous grin. "You know, being a mom is hard work. Sometimes, moms need a little extra sleep to keep up with their super responsible daughters."

Isabella rolled her eyes, giving you a playful but loving look of disbelief. "It’s hard being the boss.” She shook her head. She crawled into bed beside you and leaned into your side. Her cheek pressed against yours. It was often she practically wanted to live in your skin. 

The feeling was mutual.

"You can be the boss later, sweetheart. But right now, can you just let Mama get her bearings and drink this water?"

Isabella sighed. "I bet North West doesn't have to deal with this."

You chuckled, kissing Isabella's hair. "No, I'm sure she doesn't. But you know what? I'd trade a hundred Kardashian daughters for my one."

Isabella's lips curled into a pleased smile and she snuggled deeper into your side.

"Grandma told me a lot of things last night," She began.

"Like what? You were supposed to be sleeping when I left you," You downed your water and aspirin.

"She let me watch Wendy Williams reruns," She smirked.

"I don't believe it," You narrowed your eyes. "Did you steal her phone?"

"Maybe," She shrugged. "Anyway, I saw you when you were a kid. Well, a teenager I guess. Before you had me. Wendy kept saying how getting pregnant was a disaster and how everything was going to change and that you were throwing your career away."

You sighed, "Sweetheart..." Setting your cup of water down. You certainly didn't think you would be talking about this. “I wouldn’t even call it a career.” 

"I'm not offended, actually," Isabella stopped you. "I kind of think it's true. You don't sing much anymore. Only to me and in the shower."

"Do you want me to sing more?" You asked, slightly concerned.

"I just don't understand why you're not a star." Isabella sat up. "You could be bigger than Beyonce'."

"Well, I couldn't sing onstage when you were growing inside my belly," You chuckled, running your hands over her hair. "Also, bigger than Beyonce is a stretch but I'm glad you're as delusional as me."

"And you stopped after you had me, didn't you?" She looked at you with big curious eyes. "You didn't even try?"

"No," You answered, not really wanting to discuss your past.

"Why?" She tilted her head. "You're really good, Mama. Grandad could definitely get some things set up for you. Or I know. Natasha from the band. You two are dating now right?"

You shook your head. "We're just friends, Isabella. It's not like that. We're not serious. Plus, she has her own thing going on right now."

"Well, then why not do something with the band?" She suggested, clearly not taking no for an answer.

"I don't feel comfortable about that, Isabella," You said. "I have you to think about. I like my life right now as it is. I like my job."

"But I've got to have a rockstar mother, Mama!" Isabella threw herself back into the pillows. "It's embarrassing enough that my best friend's mother is a pop princess, but now my own mother isn't even a musician?"

"Well, my cushy job provided you with this house and all of your gymnastics gear, musician or not," You poked at her. "I'm going to tell my mom we need to put passcodes on every single electronic in the house. You get too many ideas."

"It's true," Isabella pouted.

"Isabella, if you love me, you'll accept that I'm not a performer. I'm a boring, everyday working mom. That's the only thing that's true about what Wendy said."

Isabella sat up. "But Mama, don't you ever feel like there's a part of you missing?"

You thought for a moment. "No. I'm perfectly complete. I have the best daughter I could ever ask for."

"You haven't been with anyone in years," She pointed out. "Your cookies are going to be all dried up."

"Do you even have any idea what that means?" You raised a brow. God, you weren’t ready for that talk yet. 

"No, I heard Aunt Monica say it," She said innocently.

"That woman has so many issues," You said, shaking your head. "Now, do you want to keep talking about my life or do you want to go and live yours and go to the skate party?"

"Okay," She said, getting up and stretching. "Just think about it, Mama."

"I will," You lied. "Now go get dressed and we'll get your hair done."

"Thanks, Mama." She kissed your cheek before leaving the room.

You took a deep breath, your mind swimming with the thoughts of the past. You couldn't deny that sometimes, there were moments where you missed it all. Then you remember that you're content. You enjoy your schedule. You like being home every day in time for dinner with Isabella.

Her question was valid. You hadn't been in a committed relationship since Sam, her father. That entire breakup had ruined you, even if you did end it on amicable terms. The thought of being with anyone else wasn't exactly appealing. You liked to focus on your daughter and work. Though that kiss with Natasha last night was something. It's a spur-of-the-moment thing if you will. A great end to the night. She's a rockstar. No way she had time for you.

But if she did, would you let her?

You shook the thoughts away and got up, getting ready for the day.

********************

“I’ll have bacon, eggs, and a side of toast,” Steve ordered from the cafe waitress. Across from him, Natasha stirred her coffee absentmindedly, staring out of the diner window. 

“Had a good night?” Steve asked, raising an eyebrow as he leaned back in his chair. 

Natasha smirked memories of her kiss with you flashing in her mind. “Yeah, you could say that. You?”

Steve chuckled. “Nothing too wild. I just crashed after the party. Where did you duck off to?”

Natasha took a sip of her coffee before answering, a mischievous glint in her eyes.

"Y/n and I decided to go and talk. We ended up at a little restaurant a few blocks down," She shrugged nonchalantly.

"Mhm," Steve hummed, unconvinced. "Just talked?"

"Just talked," Natasha rolled her eyes. "Why do you guys all think I'm some sort of womanizer?"

"Because you are," Steve laughed, and Natasha couldn't help but laugh along with him.

"Yeah, okay, fair point," She conceded. "But we did just talk. I like her. She's cool,"

Steve raised an eyebrow, a knowing smile on his face. "I can tell. Do you think it's going to be something? So soon after Carol?"

"Who knows," Natasha shrugged. "But it was nice to feel that connection again."

Steve nodded a small smile on his lips. "That's good. You deserve someone who makes you feel like that,"

Natasha's expression softened her usual mask of bravado. "She's Nick Fury's daughter. You know the music mogul dude."

"Wow, she's way out of your league then," Steve chuckled.

"Shut up," Natasha laughed, kicking him playfully under the table.

"Maybe you could slide her dad one of our tapes," He suggested.

"No, it's not like that," Natasha shook her head. "I'm not trying to get with her for that. I like her."

"I know, Nat," Steve said. "But you can't blame me for trying."

"You're an idiot, Rogers," Natasha laughed.

"A lovable one, though," Steve grinned, his eyes twinkling. “Speaking of management.” 

Natasha sighed, already anticipating the conversation. “The label thing again?”

Steve nodded, pausing only for the waitress to set down their finished meals. “Tony’s been pushing for it. He thinks it’s our ticket to the big leagues. And Wanda’s on board too. But it’s more than that, Nat. We need better management. The gigs, the travel, it’s all starting to take a toll.”

Natasha leaned back, running a hand through her hair. “I get that, but signing with a label? We’ll lose control, Steve. They’ll want to shape us, change our sound. We’ve always been about doing things our way.”

“I know,” Steve said gently. “But think about the opportunities. Better venues, more exposure. We could reach so many more people.”

Natasha frowned, the conflict evident in her eyes. “It’s just... I’m not sure I want to deal with all that corporate bullshit. I want our music to stay pure, you know?”

Steve nodded, giving her an encouraging smile. “I understand. But we don't have to decide anything right away. Just think about it, okay? For the band."

Natasha took a bite of her eggs, chewing thoughtfully. "Okay, I'll think about it," She said finally.

The two continued their breakfast in comfortable silence, both lost in their own thoughts.

Natasha took a long swig of her coffee. "I know you're right, and I don't want to lose the band over my stubbornness. I'll think about it, but for now, we've got a gig to prepare for. Are you in?"

Steve smiled and extended his fist, which Natasha bumped with her own. "Always."

As the day passed, Natasha couldn't shake the thought of her kiss with you. She knew it was silly, but she couldn't help the butterflies that fluttered in her stomach whenever she thought about you. 

*********

You stood by the edge of the rink, watching Isabella glide across the wooden floor with Lenny. The kids were laughing, carefree and happy. You smiled, feeling a warmth in your chest as you watched the friends bond over their time together.

Isabella looked up, waving excitedly at you.

"Look, Mama! Lenny and I are gonna skate backward!" She exclaimed, and you held a thumbs up in response. "I've watched so many Tiktoks about this."

"Go get 'em, kiddo," You chuckled.

Isabella stood before you, holding her hands out to keep her balance, as she used the muscles in her legs to push her backward. She looked so cute and you snapped a photo.

"Look at my baby, all grown up and skating," You smiled, watching her.

"That's my favorite grandbaby," Your mother came up behind you, and you wrapped your arm around her shoulders.

"Your only grandbaby," You reminded her. She waved you off with a laugh. "I'm glad you could make it here with us. How's dad?"

"Busy," Your mother said. "As always."

"Where in the world is he now? Bali?" You asked. "I tried calling him this morning but his phone went straight to voicemail. " Having a music mogul father had its ups and downs. His being unavailable when you wanted to talk randomly was one of them.

"He's in London," She informed you. "He's setting something up for some young girl from the X-Factor. He's also in talks about a possible Broadway production."

"Ah, so he's not tired yet," You sighed. "I told that man he needs to sit down. Come and enjoy being a grandparent." You shook your head fondly.

"You know your father. He's not going to stop until he's six feet under."

"Yeah, yeah, yeah," You laughed, glancing over at her. "Oh, before I forget. Isabella saw some things last night."

"Oh?"

"On the internet," You clarified.

"Oh," She frowned. "I fell asleep shortly after you left."

"Yeah, apparently, Isabella saw some clips of my past and was asking me questions," You said, rubbing the back of your neck. "She seems to have this fantasy of me becoming a famous singer."

"Well, I don't blame her," Your mother shrugs. "Girl knows her stuff. Gets that from Nick."

"You still miss him," You stated, observing her.

"Of course, I do," She smiled softly. "Your father's been great, but he's not him."

"Yeah," You nodded. "You know you could catch an airplane to him. London's not that far away."

"Oh, he's so busy and-"

"Mom, seriously, go see him," You looked at her.

"You have a point," She conceded. "But what about you and Isabella? Plus, I hate long flights. "

"We'll be fine, " You assure her. "Besides, I think Dad would love an overseas booty call from his wife."

"Y/N!"

"What? It's true!"

Your mother shakes her head, a smile playing on her lips.

"You are just as bad as your father."

"You still love him, right?" You asked, wanting to know if it was just nostalgia or actual love. Your parents had a complicated relationship. No there was never any grounds for divorce. It was always this thing where they were solely dedicated to each other and then somehow business got in the way. She's a dance instructor and owner of one of the best dance schools in the Los Angeles area rivaling Debbie Allen's Dance Academy.

"Of course, I do," Your mother said, her face lighting up at the mere mention of your dad. "We are just so busy. It was easy to put our marriage aside."

"At least you have a marriage to put to the side," You shrugged, leaning against the railing.

"Is this about that Natasha girl?"

"What how do you know about her?" You asked incredulously.

"Isabella told me this morning at breakfast," She shrugged.

"How long was I asleep?" You frown.

"Long enough for me and my granddaughter to have a nice, long chat."

"About?" You asked.

"Everything," She said. "Including your dating life. She's right you know."

"How?" You asked, turning to her.

"You deserve someone, Y/N," She said, reaching out and holding your hand.

"I have Isabella," You remind her.

"I'm not saying you don't," She replied. "But there are things a partner does that a 9-year-old can't give you."

"Oh, gross, mom," You pulled a face.

"Not sex, Y/N," She smacked your arm. "Affection. Companionship. Someone to share the good and the bad with."

"I had that with Sam and look where that got me?" You subtly pointed to Isabella.

"You were younger with Sam," She raises a brow. "Both of you were just teens."

"Yeah and I had to give everything up for my daughter," You sighed.

"But look at her," Your mother squeezed your hand. "She's amazing."

"She is," You said, looking at her. "This thing with Natasha isn't even a thing. We kissed one time and that was it. We've barely known each other for a month. We've talked even less."

"Well, it seems like Isabella wants to change that."

"She wants to change a lot of things," You chuckle. "Mom, when I'm ready to get back in the saddle you will be the first to know. Right now I'm just enjoying my freedom. I only got divorced four years ago."

"I understand," Your mother nodded.

"Good," You said.

"Mama! Did you see my new trick?!" Isabella's voice rang throughout the skating rink as she skated towards you. She bumped into the railing with a thud before looking up at you.

"I sure did, Bella!" You cheered, helping her off the floor. "You and Lenny have been practicing."

"Well, she's better than me, but I'll get there." She said.

"You'll get there," You assured her.

"Do you think the gift I got Lenny is cool?" Isabella asked suddenly.

"Well, I hope so, you were the one that picked it out," You said, ruffling her hair.

"Okay, if you're sure," Isabella nodded. "Can I eat ice cream at this party?"

"Wait a minute," You tried to hide your grin. "I thought you were vegan. What happened to save the animals?" Isabella had been vegan for all of a month before today. What you had to give it to her was impressive.

"Saving the animals is still my passion," Isabella agreed. "But I have come to terms with the fact that I am a growing girl."

"Are you sure that's it?" You raised a brow.

"Okay, okay," Isabella rolled her eyes. "It's because Lenny is eating ice cream and she said it's really good and I want to try it."

"I thought so," You smirked.

"Will you please let me, Mama, please?" She gave you her signature pout.

"We'll see," You said.

"Yes!"

"If Lenny can have some then so can you," You compromised.

"Denying the girl sugar?" Your mother chimed in. "I knew raising you in LA was a bad idea."

"I've never denied her sugar," You shook your head. "I did fine being raised in LA. Wrong kid remember." You said referring to your brother and sister.

"I suppose you did," She said.

"Isabella, let's go find Lenny and give her the gift."

"Okay!" She said, taking your hand and dragging you off.

The party was still in full swing by the time you had tapped out. You opted to allow Isabella to continue on with the festivities while you sat alone in a booth. You hadn't truly checked your phone all day so you thought this was an appropriate time. Opening Instagram, you can briefly see the onslaught of new comments and followers on your dashboard. You decided to click on the post and instantly groaned. There on TMZ's feed was you, sitting dangerously close to Natasha in Heatwave last night as she whispered into your ear. Then another of you leaving the club. You had thought taking the back exit was a smart move.

The caption read: Lead Singer of Punk Rock band bags Hollywood Royalty. New relationship brewing? Check out these hot pictures as the couple cozies up to each other at Heatwave LA.

You rolled your eyes and clicked the home button, seeing that you had a few missed calls and a text from Monica.

Monica: Hey, babe. Are you alive?

You: Yes, just exhausted. 

Monica: Good. I have an update on your situation.

You: Situation? What's up?

Monica: Well, the photos from last night are out.

You: I can see that.

Monica: And to my surprise, I didn't get a phone call or message from you with the details. Am I not your best friend?

You sighed at Monica's dramatics before pressing the call button under her name. The Facetime ringing doesn't last for a second before she's picked up the phone.

"You're an asshole," Is the first thing she says.

"Good to see you too," You rolled your eyes. "Is it really that serious?"

"Yes!" She said. "This is a big deal."

"What do you mean?" You frowned.

"Well, first, it's Natasha fucking Romanoff."

"Yeah and?"

"She's a rockstar."

"I've gathered that," You deadpanned.

"Okay, I mean, have you seen her social media? It's insane. She has like 30 million followers and they're all thirst traps."

"What?"

"I'm just saying," Monica threw her hands up in defense.

You shuffle between screens with a swipe of your thumb, tapping frantically into the search bar, until Natasha's profile comes into view. Her bio reads: 'Lover, not a fighter'.

Your heart skips a beat at the sight of her latest post. The picture is of her lying in bed, the sheets barely covering her bare breasts with a black songbook next to her. Okay, it's a thirst trap but a tasteful one. You continue down her feed to investigate. Most of her photos are similar. Some include her bandmates, and others include her posing with fans. She does seem to be very active.

"So you can see why I'm surprised you haven't mentioned anything," Monica continues.

"Nope," You reply. "She seems fine. Those pictures will blow over and people will find something else to talk about."

"I'm not done, Y/N."

"Oh, shit," You cringed. "There's more?"

"Yes," She nods. "Your name is trending on Twitter."

"My name hasn't trended on Twitter since..." You try to think.

"That time you were drunk and tweeted that Beyonce' was going to be your new girlfriend and you were going to steal her from Jay-Z."

"That was a dark time," You sighed. "Possible though. I have confidence in myself."

"Sure," Monica laughs. "Anyway, I have screenshots of a few things people are saying."

"Go ahead," You gesture with your hand. You cringe. You tap to follow Natasha's profile. Knowing this probably won't abate the rumors at all.

"Well, this one," Monica begins.

You’re not really listening as you get a notification that Natasha followed you back.

"Is interesting."

@Blackwidowfanpage: Who is this girl? She looks like a basic bitch. #Blackwidowdeservesbetter

"Ouch," You cringed.

"You see my point?" Monica says. "And another reads..."

@heatwaveslut1: Whoever this chick is, I hope she's prepared to take care of Widow's children. I'll help her out.

"Widow's children?" You questioned. "What's with the widow nickname?"

"Well, it's pretty clear she's a Spider fan," Monica snickered. "I'm guessing it's her little nickname."

"She doesn't seem like a spider kind of girl," You said.

"Besides the point," Monica huffed. "Her fangirlies are rabid. They probably eat people alive."

"I'm sure I can handle people on the internet," You roll your eyes. "It's what I do for a living. Nothing is going on between us. Yet or at all."

"Yet," Monica emphasized. "Look, you haven't been with anyone in so long. Take the chance."

"I don't know," You bite your lip. "Dating someone with status isn't my thing. Especially someone so new."

"Just keep your options open," She suggested.

"Okay, okay, I will."

"So, did you guys...ya know?"

"No, we didn't you know," You shook your head. "I'm not that easy."

"Right," Monica smirked. "And how did it feel?"

"Good," You sighed. "Great even. We only kissed."

"Kissed or made out?"

"What's the difference?"

"Oh, honey," Monica sighed. "There is a huge difference. How did it really feel?"

"Uh," You tried to think back to the moment. "Soft, warm. I liked it."

"I bet you did."

"Shut up," You laughed.

"Look, I have to go, but just know I'm rooting for you," She winked. "I almost want those sexy red locks for myself."

"Okay," You shook your head. "Go get them. I'll see you at work."

"Bye."

The call disconnects and you sigh, looking at your home screen once again. You decide it's now or never. You navigate to Natasha's name on the screen. You are instantly met with her face, and you can tell she's caught off guard.

"Hey," You said.

"Uh, hey, hi, hello," She replied.

"Are you busy?" You ask, not wanting to interrupt.

"Not at all," She shakes her head. "I just got home from rehearsals. We have a gig coming up soon in New York."

"Oh, exciting," You nodded. "How is the music writing going?"

"Well, I'm actually in the middle of something right now," She said.

"Oh, sorry, I'll leave you to"

"Wait," Natasha interrupted. "Would you mind talking to me while I write?"

"Yeah, I would like that," You nod. Natasha props up her phone against a pile of pillows, stretching to grab her guitar. It's then you see the casual, yet sexy outfit she changed into. You shouldn't be so turned on by something so simple.

"Are you ready?" She asks, bringing your attention back to the task at hand.

"Of course," You nodded, turning your phone onto its side. "Lay it on me."

Natasha strums her guitar for a moment, playing a few chords.

"That sounds beautiful," You say when she's done.

"Still needs some work," She grins. "So, are we going to talk about the elephant in the room?"

"Uh, the kiss?" You questioned, rubbing the back of your neck.

"Yup," Natasha nods, leaning forward to adjust her camera. Your eyes follow the strap or her tanktop as it falls off of her shoulder exposing more of her smooth skin. Natasha doesn’t bother adjusting it though you don’t know if it’s for her benefit or yours. 

"Well, what's there to talk about?"

"How it felt," She replied.

"Well, how did it feel for you?"

"Pretty great," She smiled. "But, I asked you first."

"Natasha," You said, rolling your eyes.

"Y/N," She mimics.

"Okay, okay, fine," You huffed. "I guess, I had fun. It was nice."

"Not just a kiss?"

"I wouldn't call it that."

"Okay, good," She smiled. "Because I wouldn't want you to think I was using you. That's not my intention at all."

"I'm glad to hear that," You said. "What are your intentions?"

"I'm not really sure," She replied.

"I don't blame you. Neither am I."

"That's why I like you, Y/N," Natasha's lips curved up in a smile. "You're honest and straightforward. Not lost in the superstardom of it all."

"Oh, no, I'm lost," You waved your hand around. "I just hide it well."

"You can't hide from me," She teased.

"Oh, yeah," You raised a brow. "I don't think I want to."

"I don't want you to," She admitted. "I know this isn't the most ideal way to start things but it's kind of exciting. Don't you think?"

"Very," You nod. "Though I think we had a pretty organic meeting. A nightmare sweet sixteen doesn't scream love story to you?"

"Oh, it does," She assured you. "But I'm not so sure I would've met you if that wasn't the case."

"We could have," You shrugged.

"I think I would've been too afraid to approach a stranger," She replied.

"You? Afraid? You don't seem to have a nervous bone in your body?"

"Everyone has something they're afraid of," She said.

"Like the ocean?"

"The ocean," She confirmed. "And flying."

"Flying?"

"It's a whole thing," She sighed. "So, are you going to let me see you again? Or are we keeping things virtual?"

"Uh, well, I would love to see you again," You said. "But I have Isabella this week. Between her extracurriculars and my work."

"I completely understand," Natasha assured you.

"I want to see you," You said definitively. "I can move a few things around."

"Well, don't put yourself out," Natasha shook her head. "You can take your time."

"How about next weekend?"

"Next weekend sounds perfect," Natasha smiled. "I have a gig Friday night but we can hang out after."

"Sounds great," You grinned.

"Perfect," Natasha replied. "Well, I've been sitting here for a while. My legs are killing me."

"Sorry, I've kept you," You shook your head.

"I'm not complaining," She replied.

"I'm sure," You laughed. You both hold the phone, simply sitting in silence, as you figure out what you want to say next. It's then you're reminded where you are when Isabella comes rolling over to you. She presses herself into the booth and forces herself into the camera.

"Who is that? Is it Dad?" She asks.

"Isabella!" You exclaimed. "This is not your dad."

"Oh, I see who it is now," Isabella grins cheekily. You notice from the corner of your eye the way Natasha fixes her top. "Hi, Natasha. I’m Isabella Marie, the first daughter."

"Hi," Natasha smiles.”Nice to meet you, Isabella.”

"How are you doing?" Isabella asked, making herself comfortable next to you.

"Doing well, how are you?"

"Good," She replied. "What are you guys talking about?" She snatches the phone from your hands to talk with the woman. Not that you had a chance to stop her. You don't know how you feel introducing Isabella to her so soon. Especially when you haven't defined what this is.

"Uh," Natasha paused. "I was getting ready to ask your Mom on a date. A real one."

"A date," Isabella's face lit up.

"A real one," You added.

"You better," Isabella replied.

"Is that a yes?" Natasha asked.

"It's a yes," Isabella confirmed.

"I think I should be the one to say that right?" You argued. Though technically you both had already confirmed it before Isabella had even stepped over to you.

"You're right," Natasha chuckled.

"Anyways, Natasha, let's talk about the new album," Isabella interrupted.

"I didn't know you listened to Velvet Rebellion?" You look at her skeptically.

"Duh, they're so good. I love them," She replies.

"You do?" Natasha says.

"Yeah, of course. You're my favorite band. I listen to you all the time." She compliments. "My dad kind of likes you too. He thinks you're hot."

"Isabella!" You scold.

"He does," She insisted.

"Thanks," Natasha laughs. "Well, to answer your sort of question, the album is coming along. I'm hoping we'll be done in the next few months. We've been working day in and day out to get some things together."

"Do you guys play any other songs?"

"Yeah, we do. A few covers here and there. We're planning on having a cover song on the new album."

"I think you should do a Taylor Swift song," Isabella suggests.

"Taylor Swift, huh?"

"Yes, her songs are good."

"They are," Natasha agreed. "She has a couple of really great ones."

"You guys should cover 'All too well'."

"Why that song in particular?" Natasha asked.

"Because Mom loves that song," Isabella looked to you. "It's the saddest song she listens to on repeat."

"Oh, does she?"

"It's on my playlist but I wouldn't say it's in my top ten." You answer.

"You totally listen to it all the time," Isabella rolls her eyes. "Anytime she gets sad."

"Well, i hope she doesn't get sad often,"

"I'm not sad," You say.

"She doesn't like to talk about her feelings. She's emotionally unavailable."

"Isabella," You scolded. "Natasha doesn't need to know all of this."

"I just think that if you guys are going to be the Hollywood IT couple you should know these things about each other," She replied.

"IT couple, huh," Natasha chuckled.

"Yes," Isabella nodded. "You guys would be perfect for each other. Mom has had the worst luck with men."

"I can't deny that," You cringe.

"You've had boyfriends?" Natasha asked.

"Just a couple," You shook your head.

"And they're the worst," Isabella continued. "One guy didn't even like kids. We kicked him to the curb so fast. Do you like kids, Natasha?"

"I do," Natasha nodded.

"Do you have any kids?"

"No, no kids," She answered.

"That's good," Isabella said. "Are you looking to have kids?"

"Isabella," You say. "Natasha isn't looking to have kids anytime soon."

"I can answer for myself," Natasha insisted. "No, I'm not."

"Okay, good, because I'm the only kid my mom needs," She replied.

"But one day I may want kids," Natasha answers softly.

"Oh, wow," Isabella is shocked. "I guess I'd be fine with a little sister. Then we could be like Noah and Miley Cyrus. Plus, I think Mama would look cute pregnant."

"Why are you so sure I would be the one to get pregnant?" You ask.

"Because you'd be the most fit for the job," Isabella answered. "Mommy, are you and Natasha dating?"

"We're..."

"We're going to be dating," Natasha interrupts.

"If I'm going to be tag-teamed by the both of you..." You shake your head. You tap Isabella's arm with a warning and take the phone back. "I'm sure Natasha has things to do."

"I'm in no rush," Natasha assures you.

"You're too sweet," You grin. "I'm not going to keep you from your things."

"Okay," Natasha relents. "Bye, Isabella. It was nice talking to you."

"Bye," Isabella waves to the camera. "Make sure you tell Bucky that I really like his tattoos. Also his new haircut is going to be great for the new album cover."

"I'll pass on the message," Natasha assured her.

"I'll see you later," You say, bringing the phone closer. "And thanks for the chat."

"Anytime, doll," She smiled. "Bye."

The video feed cuts out and you sigh, dropping your head to the table.

"What just happened?" You ask.

"You talked to her," Isabella replies.

"And then we were ambushed by a nine-year-old," You said.

"I think I did a great job," Isabella praised. "We know what her intentions are and we know that she likes kids."

"I mean, I guess that's true," You said. "Though I already knew both of those things."

"Did you? Really?"

"I can speak for myself, Isabella."

"I guess," Isabella shrugged.

"Now, come on, let's say bye to Lenny and find Nana. I still have to make dinner for you."

"Alright," Isabella sighed. "Can I stay up late?"

"Not tonight," You replied.

"Oh, come on, Mom," Isabella begged.

"Nope," You said.

When Isabella is in bed and you're tucked into your covers, you scroll through your Instagram feed. Natasha's videos and tagged photos have popped up. Your curiosity continues to get the best of you and instead of going to sleep you decide to be a cyber stalker. In a good way though. You find a picture that you find particularly endearing. It's a difference in the thirst traps. She's sitting with Wanda, on a picnic blanket, in a park. The picture is black and white but you could still somehow see the shade of her red hair.

TheRealRomanoff: Picnic dates are my favorite. 25,000 Likes. 500 comments.

You decide to check the comments. Her fans are loyal.

_@TheRealRomanoff: What's your favorite thing to do on a picnic date?

_@jenx007: Are you and Wanda dating right now?

@widowbaby97: You look beautiful today Nat.

_@BlackWidow: You have a lovely smile, Romanoff!

@blackwidow666: I'd love to go on a picnic date with you.

You read through a few more before opening the text box to add your own. You comment "Cute." before pressing send.

Almost instantly, you receive a message from Natasha.

TheRealRomanoff: Cute? That's all you got for me?

@OFFICIALY/N:  Well, it is cute. 

TheRealRomanoff: Interesting.

@OfficialY/N: Interesting good or bad?

@TheRealRomanoff: Good, good. Perfectly good. For the record, you're cute too.

You toss your phone to the side. It's been a while since you've had this many butterflies. You want this to be something. 

---> next part

[rosaspicypaper]

I wasn't even ten when my mother taught me to shave. It was exciting. I felt grown up. She explained to me, gently, that I would have a lot to get rid of for the rest of my life. We just had a lot of body hair, more than average. So, there I remember being a little girl, taking a blade to my skin every time I had to shower. A family hardly able to afford food for the week, but we still prioritized a razor for a child in the fifth grade. It grew everywhere, even thick and dark on my thighs. I took it all away, sometimes spending 15 minutes double checking myself to make sure I got every last one. And then, if I found I didn't once had I dried off, I'd get back in and finish the job, or do it dry to ensure I got it all, razor burn preferable to hair. It didn't stop there. I wasn't stupid. I knew the legs weren't the only place you didn't want to have body hair. Once I felt I had the hang of it, I started to shave my armpits. My belly. My chest. My pubic area. My arms. And, as a courtesy of the bones in my wrist, I eventually took out a chunk of flesh so deep and wide you can still see the scar over a decade later. My mom understood. She bandaged me up, and I maintained my routine. Middle school was harder. I kept it up, but kids saw through it. They called me a dog. I had to get rid of even more, I determined. Shaving my chest and my belly turned into waxing. I became self conscious of the dark hair on my cheeks and my jaw, my upper lip and what lay outside of an ideal brow shape. I ripped it all away, checking twice daily for hair I missed, and if I found any I had a pair of tweezers to help finish the job. I was, of course, introduced to the idea floating around online that women didn't have to remove their body hair. I agreed, I thought, that women could do whatever they wanted with their body hair! And if that was the case, I'd choose to keep getting rid of mine. We've all heard the same excuse parrotted around: "I just like the way it feels." And I did. Of course I did. I was used to the smooth skin and that baby soft feel, the validation and admiration that came with having a perfect, hairless...everything. I was okay with other women making the choice to have it because their choice wasn't going to make me feel otherly. I never genuinely understood how miserable it was to maintain the routine until my sophomore year of high school. It had become as second nature to me as brushing my teeth or washing my hair. But, I chose to stop shaving. Over the years, I would cave to the misery and get rid of it all over again, but eventually I'd let it grow out, and it was uncomfortable. It was scary. The prickling hair drove me crazy, the sandy feel of my legs making me squirm once it had grown out. I loathed putting lotion on. It felt like I had to use half the bottle just to get to my legs. Jeans in the summer until I couldn't stand it anymore, friends that flushed with embarrassment when we'd go to the pool. A mother pleading me to do it again, "for me". Struggling to find products that would work for me because women's hygiene isn't formulated with women's natural selves in mind... by now, I don't think I've shaved in over 4 years, and I certainly don't feel so otherly anymore. Was it the easy choice? Was it the comfortable one? Not at all, but I feel as though it was the necessary one.

[skywalker1dream]

Title: web of obsession

part one | part two Note: my Carlos obsession is back and it seems I can't stop writing about him.:3 hope you are having good day or night, drink water, eat healthy, if you have any requests I'm all ears <3

Summary:When you move into a charming new neighborhood, you catch the eye of Carlos Sainz, your next-door neighbor. What starts as friendly attention quickly spirals into a dark, possessive obsession. As Carlos’s behavior becomes increasingly intense and controlling, you realize you are trapped in the web of his dangerous love. Can you escape his clutches, or will his obsession consume you both?

Warnings: Dark themes, Possessive/obsessive behavior, Stalking, Manipulation, Emotional distress, Implied non-consensual control,Dubious consent, Stockholm syndrome

You had just moved into your new apartment, excited to start a new chapter in your life. The neighborhood was charming, with cobblestone streets and blooming flowers adorning the windowsills. It was a refreshing change from the bustling city you had left behind. As you unpacked the last of your boxes, you couldn't help but feel a sense of peace and optimism about your future here.

Little did you know, someone had been watching you closely ever since you arrived. Carlos Sainz, your next-door neighbor, had noticed you the moment you stepped foot in the building. From his window, he observed you carrying boxes, arranging furniture, and finally, the way you smiled with satisfaction once everything was in place. He found himself drawn to you, your innocence and naivety awakening something dark and possessive within him.

Carlos had always been a private person, his life revolving around the high-speed world of Formula 1 racing. But there was something about you that captivated him. Your purity and unawareness of his growing obsession made you irresistible. He had to have you. He needed to protect you, to make sure no one else could ever come close to you.

One evening, as you were settling in with a cup of tea and a good book, you heard a knock on your door. Surprised, you opened it to find Carlos standing there, a charming smile on his face.

"Hi, I'm Carlos, your neighbor. I thought I'd come by and introduce myself," he said, his voice smooth and inviting.

"Hi, it's nice to meet you, Carlos. I'm [your name]," you replied, offering a shy smile.

"I noticed you moved in recently. If you need anything or have any questions about the area, feel free to ask," he offered, his eyes darkening slightly as he took in your innocent expression.

"Thank you, that's very kind of you," you said, genuinely appreciative of his offer.

_________

Over the next few days, Carlos made a habit of stopping by, offering to help with small tasks, bringing you groceries, and even inviting you out for coffee. You found his attention flattering and appreciated his kindness, unaware of the storm brewing within him.

_________

One night, as you were walking back to your apartment after a late shift at work, you felt a presence behind you. Turning around, you saw Carlos, his eyes intense and focused on you.

"Carlos, you scared me!" you exclaimed, your heart racing.

"I’m sorry, (Y/N). I was just making sure you got home safely. It's not safe for someone like you to be out alone at this hour," he said, his voice laced with a possessive edge that sent a shiver down your spine.

_________

As the weeks passed, Carlos's behavior grew increasingly intense. He would show up unannounced, his eyes filled with a dark hunger that made you uneasy. He would call you constantly, checking up on you, demanding to know where you were and who you were with.

One evening, you decided to confront him. "Carlos, I appreciate your concern, but I feel like you're becoming too... controlling. I need some space," you said, trying to keep your voice steady.

His eyes narrowed, and he took a step closer to you, his presence overwhelming. "You don’t understand, Mi amor. I’m doing this for you. I need to protect you. You’re mine," he growled, his voice dangerously low.

Fear gripped you as you realized the depth of his obsession. "Carlos, please, I need you to leave," you said, backing away.

But Carlos didn’t budge. Instead, he grabbed your wrist, pulling you close to him. "You don’t get it, do you? I can't let you go. I won't let anyone else have you," he whispered, his breath hot against your ear.

Tears welled up in your eyes as you struggled to break free from his grasp. "Carlos, this isn't right. You’re scaring me," you cried out, hoping to reach the man you once thought was kind and gentle.

But Carlos was beyond reason. His obsession had consumed him entirely, and he was determined to make you his, no matter the cost. "You belong to me, cariño. And I’ll do whatever it takes to keep you safe, even if it means locking you away where no one else can touch you," he declared, his eyes gleaming with a manic intensity.

You realized then that you were trapped, caught in the web of Carlos's dark and possessive love. And as he pulled you closer, you knew that your life would never be the same again.

_________

The next day, you woke up to find your phone missing. Frantically, you searched your apartment, but it was nowhere to be found. You decided to ask Carlos if he had seen it, even though you had your suspicions.

When you knocked on his door, he answered almost immediately, as if he had been waiting for you. "Carlos, have you seen my phone? I can't find it anywhere," you asked, trying to keep your voice calm.

He smiled, a chilling smile that sent a wave of dread through you. "No, I haven't seen it. Maybe you misplaced it," he said, but there was something in his eyes that told you he was lying.

You knew you needed to get away, to find help. But without your phone, you felt isolated and vulnerable. The next few days were a blur of Carlos's increasingly invasive presence and your mounting fear. He seemed to be everywhere, watching you, controlling your every move.

_________

One evening, as you were cooking dinner, Carlos let himself into your apartment with a spare key you didn’t know he had. He stood in the doorway, watching you with a dark intensity.

"Carlos, you can't just come in here uninvited," you said, trying to muster the courage to stand up to him.

"I told you, Mi amor, I'm doing this for you. I need to protect you," he replied, his voice eerily calm.

You felt a chill run down your spine. "Protect me from what? You're the one scaring me," you said, your voice trembling.

Carlos stepped closer, his eyes never leaving yours. "You don't understand, cariño. You need me. Without me, you're vulnerable. Anyone could hurt you," he said, his voice taking on a desperate edge.

"You're the one hurting me, Carlos. This isn't love, this is obsession," you cried out, tears streaming down your face.

Carlos's expression hardened, and he grabbed your arm, pulling you close. "You don't get to decide what's best for you. I do. And I will keep you safe, even if it means keeping you here with me forever," he said, his voice a dangerous whisper.

Desperation surged through you, and you struggled against his grip. "Carlos, please, let me go," you begged, but his hold only tightened.

In a moment of sheer panic, you managed to break free and ran for the door. But Carlos was faster. He caught you, pinning you against the wall, his breath hot and ragged against your ear.

"Don't you see, cariño? You're mine. And I'll never let you go," he whispered, his voice filled with a terrifying mix of love and madness.

_________

Days turned into weeks, and Carlos's hold on you only tightened. He controlled every aspect of your life. You were not allowed to leave the apartment without him. He provided everything you needed, but it came at the cost of your freedom.

At first, you resisted, your spirit unbroken despite his oppressive behavior. But Carlos was relentless. He showered you with affection in his twisted way, blurring the lines between love and captivity. His touches became more intimate, more demanding, yet he always framed them as acts of love and protection.

One night, after a particularly intense confrontation, you found yourself in his arms, the weight of your fear and isolation bearing down on you. His hand gently stroked your hair as you lay against his chest, and for a moment, the world outside seemed to disappear.

"Cariño? you know I only do this because I love you," he murmured, his voice soft and soothing.

"Love shouldn't feel like this," you whispered, tears slipping down your cheeks.

Carlos tilted your chin up, forcing you to meet his gaze. "It’s the only way to keep you safe. You have to trust me," he insisted, his eyes dark and intense.

You wanted to scream, to push him away, but a part of you, worn down by the constant pressure, began to waver. His touch, once a source of fear, started to feel comforting in your desperate state. The line between captor and protector blurred further with each passing day.

________

One evening, Carlos returned home to find you sitting on the couch, your expression distant. He knelt before you, taking your hands in his. "What's on your mind, mi amor?" he asked, his voice tender.

"I don't know what's real anymore," you confessed, your voice shaking. "I feel like I'm losing myself."

Carlos's grip tightened. "You're not losing yourself. You're finding your true place, with me. I’ll take care of you."

"I’ll take care of you, and you'll see that this is where you belong," Carlos whispered, his voice soothing yet laced with an unsettling authority.

You tried to pull your hands away, but his grip was firm. He moved closer, his eyes locked onto yours. There was an intensity there, a burning need that frightened you, yet you couldn’t tear yourself away from his gaze.

"Carlos, this isn't right," you said weakly, your voice barely above a whisper.

"Shh, mi amor. You just need to relax and let me take care of everything," he murmured, leaning in to press a soft kiss to your forehead.

His lips lingered, trailing down your face, planting kisses on your cheeks and finally your lips. You froze, the mixture of fear and a strange sense of comfort paralyzing you. Carlos deepened the kiss, his hands moving to cradle your face, his touch both possessive and gentle.

You knew you should resist, that you should push him away, but his words and actions had begun to wear down your resolve. You felt a strange, unsettling warmth spreading through you, a part of your mind beginning to believe his twisted version of love.

Carlos sensed your hesitation and took advantage, his kisses becoming more urgent, his hands moving to your shoulders and down your arms, pulling you closer. Your heart pounded in your chest as he guided you to lie back on the couch, his body pressing against yours.

"Just let go, cariño. Let me love you," he whispered against your lips, his breath hot and intoxicating.

You whimpered softly, torn between the instinct to flee and the growing sense of submission. Carlos's hands roamed your body, his touch igniting a confusing mix of fear and desire. He was relentless, his need for control evident in every movement.

He kissed you deeply, his tongue exploring your mouth as his hands slipped beneath your shirt. You gasped, the sensation both foreign and electrifying. Carlos's kisses trailed down your neck, his lips leaving a burning path as he whispered sweet yet possessive words against your skin.

"I've dreamed of this, of having you all to myself," he murmured, his hands exploring your body with a fervent possessiveness. "You're mine, cariño, mine. No one else can ever have you."

Your mind screamed at you to push him away, to fight back, but your body betrayed you, responding to his touch in ways you couldn't control. His hands found their way to your waistband, and he deftly unbuttoned your jeans, sliding them down with a practiced ease. He kissed your stomach, his lips moving lower, and you shivered, torn between fear and a perverse sense of anticipation.

"Carlos, please," you whimpered, unsure whether you were begging him to stop or to continue.

He paused, looking up at you with a dark, intense gaze. "Please what, mi amor? Tell me what you want."

"I... I don't know," you admitted, tears streaming down your cheeks.

Carlos's expression softened, and he climbed back up to kiss away your tears. "It's okay, cariño. I'll make you understand. I'll show you how much I love you," he promised, his voice a dangerous mix of tenderness and possessiveness.

He captured your lips in another searing kiss, his hands resuming their exploration of your body. Your resistance crumbled further with each passing second, the lines between right and wrong blurring in the haze of his relentless attention.

Carlos was methodical, his actions deliberate and consuming. He undressed you with a slow, practiced ease, each piece of clothing falling away to reveal more of your vulnerable form. His kisses trailed down your body, igniting a fire within you that you couldn't ignore.

You felt helpless, trapped in his web of obsession, yet a part of you craved his touch, his approval. He made you feel wanted, cherished in his own twisted way, and that was a feeling you hadn't experienced in so long.

Carlos's hands found their way to your most intimate places, and you gasped, your body reacting instinctively to his touch. He watched your every expression, his eyes dark and hungry.

"See, cariño ? This is how it should be. Just you and me, together," he murmured, his voice hypnotic.

You closed your eyes, surrendering to the inevitable, your mind and body betraying you in the most intimate of ways. Carlos took you with a possessive passion, his love both a prison and a twisted form of salvation.

As the night wore on, you found yourself clinging to him, your emotions a chaotic whirlwind of fear, desire, and a growing sense of dependence. Carlos's obsession had consumed you both, binding you to him in a dark and inescapable embrace.

In the depths of your mind, a small voice screamed for freedom, but it was drowned out by the overwhelming force of Carlos's love. You were his, and he would never let you go.

___________

[eowynstwin]

Hi everyone. It's been a while—exactly a month since I last posted to this blog. How have you been?

A month isn't really all that long, but it's enough time to be able to look at everything that happened and understand it better. In the end, the whole situation (I've been calling it The Fuckening in my head) really didn't have anything to do with me. I was unlucky enough to run across someone willing to hurt anyone they could for attention, but also lucky enough that everyone who mattered to me in this fandom went to bat for me.

So I’ve decided to come back to this blog. I'll be posting about call of duty again as well as posting my writing. I also plan to blog about other fandoms (I’d already been doing it anyway); I've been getting back into rdr2, for example, and there's some writing I'd like to do for that.

There’s more context which I’ll put below the cut, but that’s the most important part of what I have to say; I often regret how long winded I can be, so the rest is just self indulgence if you can forgive it. I’ve thought a lot about this choice and I’m satisfied with my decision. I hope none of you will mind.

So, lol, things were not great outside of fandom stuff when it all kicked off, though I didn’t mention it publicly because we all know by now that asking for any sympathy when you’re the target of a mob is more likely to just get you raked over the coals harder. I’m still not entirely sure about talking about all of this, but I have a bad tendency to clam up when I really should be asking for support. So:

I mentioned briefly before the accusations started flying that I was dealing with bedbugs—turns out it was actually something else, but leading up to a doctor’s visit I was convinced I had an infestation, and I was stripping my bed every day to look for them. I had alarms set to wake me up twice a night to see if I could catch them, so I was not sleeping all that well. I couldn’t find anything, but I had no other explanation, and it was driving me fucking crazy. Post doctor visit it turns out I had a viral infection. No idea where I caught it, and nothing to do but wait it out. I had a massive, gnarly looking rash all over my body, and to add insult to injury I developed a fever that took me out for a whole weekend. (I’m recovered now but I have a nifty new scar on my hip from getting a biopsy.)

Next to that, I was having some PTSD flareups of my own. This was (mostly) unrelated to The Fuckening. Now, I understand that that might be hard to believe, given “Myka’s” claims, and I can’t make you believe me. Nor will I provide details to convince you, other than to say there were some things going on in my neighborhood that recalled a period of time in my life that was extremely unstable, and I found myself irrationally terrified to go home every day. For those of you who don’t experience the symptoms of PTSD, I think it’s appropriate to note that it isn’t just emotional turmoil; I, personally, experience physical pain in my entire body that lingers for hours, days, or even weeks after being triggered. (Everything regarding this, too, is fine now. I have a great therapist and a supportive family.)

All of this to say, I wasn’t exactly thinking rationally when I decided to leave this blog and fandom. And I regretted the decision almost instantly.

However, I didn’t want to let grief make any decisions for me, and also I was still VERY scared Myka was going to hunt down my personal information and either dox or harass me elsewhere. I think this fear was justified; it has happened to other writers in this fandom before.* So I decided to take some time to cool off and watch the situation develop without me.

I don’t think I need to get into the details—although if you’re interested in them, @fulltacs has been keeping track of the drama. Given the most recent development with the four obviously sock puppet blogs that popped up and immediately began stirring shit up again, I realized Myka probably would have done what she did with or without me. I just so happened to give her the ammunition she needed to do something REALLY big. It was pure bad luck.

(Also—and I’m sorry if this is just stirring the pot, but after everything they did to me I feel I deserve to make the accusation—I’ve suspected for a while that the two loudest blogs leading the witch hunt against me were far more involved in this farce than anyone has assumed. I have no proof and I do not want anyone to do anything about it on my behalf, leave them the fuck alone. But I will not forget the distress they caused me for a long fucking time, and the only way for me to let this go is to say my piece. So there. Done. Let that be the end of it.)

Having this hindsight, I feel comfortable coming back. I’m still very touched by everyone’s support, which in the end was louder than the harassment. I also think it’s important for people who care about fighting racism in any community not to run at the first sign of trouble, which I did, and I feel pretty sorry for.

That’s the gist of things. If you’ve read all of this, thank you for doing so!

*I was going to add a paragraph about halfmoth-halfman’s situation but decided against it. For one thing, she wants to be left alone, and for another, talking about the experiences of fans of color, particularly black fans, deserves its own post separate from my white experience, if I should even post about it at all.

[kenzirr]

The BAU team sat in their usual spot at the local coffee shop, enjoying a rare moment of relaxation. The aroma of freshly brewed coffee and the sound of soft chatter filled the air. Spencer Reid sipped his coffee, his mind briefly at ease from the complexities of their latest case.

"Man, it's good to have a break," Morgan said, leaning back in his chair. "These last few weeks have been non-stop."

"Tell me about it," JJ replied, stirring her latte. "I can't remember the last time I slept for more than four hours."

"Well, at least we caught the guy," Rossi added, taking a sip of his espresso. "Sometimes it's nice to just enjoy the little things."

Spencer nodded, glancing at his friends. "You know, there's a study that shows taking short breaks can actually improve productivity. It helps to reset the brain and reduce stress."

Garcia chuckled. "Leave it to Reid to turn our coffee break into a lecture."

Spencer smiled sheepishly. "Sorry, I just find it interesting."

"Don't apologize, genius," Morgan said, patting Spencer on the back. "We love your brainy insights."

Hotch, who had been quietly sipping his coffee, joined in. "It's true, though. These moments are important. They keep us grounded."

Spencer nodded. "It's fascinating how social interactions can affect mental health. Even brief conversations can boost mood and improve cognitive function."

JJ laughed. "Always the scientist, Spencer."

Just then, the door to the coffee shop opened, and in walked Y/N. She scanned the room, her eyes quickly landing on the BAU team. She had heard about the legendary team and their brilliant, yet socially awkward genius, Dr. Spencer Reid. With a confident smile, she approached their table.

"Hey there," she said, her eyes locking onto Spencer's. "Mind if I join you?"

Morgan raised an eyebrow, a smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth. "Not at all. I'm Morgan, and you are?"

"YN," she replied, taking a seat right next to Spencer. "And you must be Dr. Reid."

Spencer looked up, startled. "Uh, yes. Yes, I am. Nice to meet you, Y/N."

Y/N leaned in a bit closer, her smile dazzling. "I've heard a lot about you, Dr. Reid. Your work is really impressive."

Spencer blushed, glancing nervously at his teammates. "Thank you. It's... it's just part of the job, really."

Morgan chuckled. "Don't let him fool you, Y/N. Spencer here is a genius. He can read 20,000 words per minute and has an IQ of 187."

"Really?" Y/N's eyes widened in genuine admiration. "That's incredible. You must be a walking encyclopedia."

Spencer chuckled nervously. "I guess you could say that."

Y/N's smile widened. "Well, I'm impressed. So, Spencer, how about you and I grab a coffee sometime? I'd love to get to know you better."

Spencer's face turned a deeper shade of red. "Um, sure. That sounds nice."

The team exchanged amused glances, clearly enjoying Spencer's flustered state.

"Great," Y/N said, jotting down her number on a napkin and handing it to Spencer. "Call me."

Spencer nodded, taking the napkin. "I will."

As Y/N walked away, the team burst into laughter.

"Looks like Reid's got a date," Morgan teased.

Spencer smiled, his heart racing. For once, he didn't mind being the center of attention.

---

A few days later, Spencer nervously adjusted his tie in the mirror. He had agreed to meet Y/N at a local bar for their date, and his stomach was doing flips. Arriving at the bar, he spotted Y/N immediately. She looked stunning, her smile lighting up the room.

"Hi, Spencer," she greeted, giving him a warm hug.

"Hi, Y/N. You look amazing."

"Thank you. Shall we get a drink?"

They found a cozy corner and ordered their drinks, settling into a comfortable conversation. They talked about everything from Spencer's work with the BAU to Y/N's interests and hobbies. Spencer found himself relaxing as Y/N shared funny anecdotes and stories about her life.

"So, what made you decide to join the BAU?" Y/N asked, genuinely curious.

Spencer thought for a moment. "I've always been interested in understanding human behavior. Profiling criminals allows me to use that knowledge to help people and solve cases. Plus, the team is like a second family to me."

Y/N smiled. "That's really inspiring. It must be challenging."

"It is," Spencer agreed. "But moments like this, getting to know someone new, make it all worthwhile."

As the evening progressed, their initial nerves melted away, replaced by laughter and shared stories. By the time they left the bar, they were holding hands, their connection undeniable.

At Spencer's apartment, things quickly escalated. They couldn't keep their hands off each other, the chemistry between them sparking a passionate encounter.

[makemeimmortalwithahug]

How Could You Think, Darling, I'd Scare So Easily?

Painland Week Day 2 - Myths/Legends

Charles/Edwin - post-canon

y'all remember how I said a few days ago that day 2 for @painlandweek was almost finished? Yeah,, when I went to bed two nights ago, this fic had 500 words. When I woke up again, I thought, hey, just write another 500 words and get back to it to flesh it out sometime later. Yeah, I finished this at 3am and it turned out to be *checks word count* almost 4000 words! Whoops?

Word count: 3726

ao3 link will be added

Title is from Hozier's "Francesca"

TW: body horror (Charles changing forms)

summary:

Hell has made them stronger together, Edwin is sure of that. It has, however, also made Charles anxious to leave Edwin alone for longer periods of time. When Charles doesn't return home for hours and neither Crystal nor Edwin know where he might be, everything leads to a familiar witch who wants to find out how strong the bond between the two ghosts really is when tested.

It had been exactly two months, three weeks and five days since they escaped Hell, found and lost enough to last another lifetime or two and realised the possibility of relative peace existed for them in the form of a trans-dimensional being who had never learnt what “tranquillity” even meant. Edwin agreed that most times, there was too much paperwork to be done to even try to achieve some peace of mind. 

For the most part, though, it was just an excuse. In reality, Edwin struggled with the idea that he could stop running now. After decades of looking over his shoulder, it took an immense amount of effort to direct his gaze at what’s in front of him.

Looking ahead now, all Edwin could see was the empty office, dust dancing over the furniture. The boxing gloves lay forgotten on a table near the entrance door and the football Charles always played with inside despite how much Edwin complained haphazardly rolled under the couch. Everything was still and that was only the beginning of the long list Edwin formulated in his mind of Things That Were Wrong.

Exhibit B: Charles was nowhere to be found. Which, while not particularly sitting right with Edwin, was not an unusual occurrence these days. Charles spent a lot of time with Crystal, helping her get used to her new flat or just keeping her company, watching movies. Crystal always made sure to extend her invitation to Edwin as well and he agreed every once in a while, sitting next to Charles on Crystal’s small but cosy couch, thighs touching. He also enjoyed his time spent with Crystal. She had grown on him and he was quite glad to call her his friend. Edwin lent her the detective novels he loved and in return he listened to what she called “podcasts” about psychology. 

But even so, he knew that the needling to “come over to hers with me, yeah, mate? The movie’s s'posed to be aces” was solely Charles’ doing because he did not like letting him out of his sight ever since Hell. This resulted in Charles excessively checking in on him via mirror every few hours, which most times was met by Edwin with a fondly annoyed eye roll. Edwin was quick to give in when confronted with Charles’ pleading eyes. It was not like he was any different in that regard. Spending time with them was no hardship whatsoever and Edwin had to admit that he found it quite sweet how Charles would look after him.

Which brought him to exhibit C: Charles had been gone for more than five hours and had not checked in on Edwin once in this time. Which had Edwin more worried than was probably warranted. Charles would be just fine, he was sure. He would just take a quick trip to Crystal’s and then he could calmly get back to his work for the Night Nurse. 

Edwin stood up and put the files under their paperweight. Mirror travel had been one of the most fascinating aspects of being a ghost. It required to be precise and focused while not putting any strain on his energy. It took just a fraction of a second until he found himself standing in the middle of Crystal’s living room.

“Holy fuck!” The resounding thump alerted Edwin to their psychic who was clutching her shoulder that she probably hit against the door frame she was currently leaning against, mouth twisted in pain and eyes wide with shock and irritation. “Edwin! How many times do we have to have this conversation until it sticks?”

“Yes, yes, no sudden mirror jumping into your room. I know.” Edwin pursed his lips, looking around. Better get to the point quickly.  “Is Charles here?”

“No, he isn’t. I don’t know where loverboy is, why?”

“He is not home either, has he said anything?”

Crystal flopped down on her couch. “Well, he said he wanted to come ‘round today to help me fix the sink but he didn’t show.” Reaching onto the coffee table for her phone, she checked the time. “Yeah, Charles said he’d be here around two.”

Edwin felt his stomach lurch in anxiety. It was half past five. A chilled silence filled the room as they looked at each other in question.

“Let me grab my jacket.”

“Doesn’t seem any different, right?” 

The agency lay completely untouched, nothing out of the ordinary. Normally, this would ease Edwin’s nerves, seeing as it was his sanctuary, his safe space along with Charles. Now, though, this also meant that there were no clues as to where Charles had gone. 

“Quite,” he agreed. Walking in circles around their desk, he eventually walked up to the window and peered outside. “Maybe there is something outside, he didn’t leave through the mirror.” 

They made their way downstairs, Crystal barely holding onto the railing to not slip on the steps in her hurry while Edwin simply opted to let himself fall through the floor to get to the entrance door as soon as possible. The night creeped in steadily, the shadows growing longer, twisting at their ankles. Their office was located a little off the beaten path, but not too far. When they first started flat-hunting, they were conscious that they had to balance on an incredibly fine line of finding a place just secluded enough to not bear the brunt of the daily London tourism but also don’t attract anyone who might be searching for lost places to scout out. 

This resulted in a beautiful view from their window but dark alleyways that led to seemingly nowhere, cobblestones streets with missing stones and cracks in them. The walls towered over them here, making it harder to distinguish the darkening sky from the roofs and edges. Their living neighbour had hung their bed sheets on the washing lines on the balcony and whenever Edwin blinked and tried to bring his eyes back into focus, they reminded him of David the Demon when they first exorcised him. 

It was dark, dirty and daunting. Nothing looked to be amiss. Except, of course, for the backpack that was sloped against the gutter. Edwin snatched it up and true enough: Charles’ bag of tricks. The straps showed various scratches and the top was stained. Decidedly not a condition Charles would leave his most prized possession in. Crystal was aware of this as well and carefully reached out to read it.

The few seconds that passed while Crystal’s eyes turned white and she stared into the distance were the most agitating of his existence.

Crystal gasped, letting the bag fall to the floor again, supporting herself on her knees. Edwin crouched next to her with his hands fluttering around her, not exactly knowing what he was supposed to do to help her. 

Resurfacing, she stood up again, shooting Edwin a small grateful smile that quickly blinked away again.

“Esther’s back,” she announced and tucked her jacket tighter around her. “She ambushed him here and took him.”

And Edwin’s world broke into pieces, shattering from the sky onto the puddle-ridden street and breaking the moonshine.

He didn’t say anything at first, every word vanished from his mind.

“I might know where they are, though. Or, I can find out.”

“How?” His voice sounded rough - harsh, but Crystal didn’t get angry. She knew that this was not borne of anger but sheer gripping despair.

“She had a business card on her and when Charles tried to defend himself, he caught a glimpse.”

This, more than anything, gave Edwin the determination needed to hoist the backpack onto his shoulder.

“Let us not waste any time, then. Do you think this internet you have might be of help?”

“For sure, Edwin,” she answered, petting his shoulder.

If Edwin hadn’t been out of his mind worrying about Charles, leaving him with sparsely any mental capacities to think about anything else, then he could have admitted that Coupeville, Washington was a tranquil but charming little town. With its little art stores and cafes, it gave a delightfully unassuming appearance.

Edwin hated every moment. For the sake of not leaving Crystal alone - he tried to silence the voice in his head that whispered you couldn’t take care of Charles either -, he had suffered through another flight, a ferry and multiple train rides. 

Crystal huffed as she dragged her suitcase up the stairs.

“She couldn’t have been less creative, huh? Relocating one ferry-ride away.” Which was true. Port Townsend could be reached in less than an hour. 

Personally, he could not care less whether she called this town or the bloody Empire State Building her home. All he cared about was getting Charles back as soon as possible.

They quickly checked into a hotel to get rid of the suitcase. Insisting that she had slept enough while travelling, they immediately headed to the address that Crystal had found out using the business card - a brewery. 

It must have been well visited only a few weeks ago, the dust had not properly set yet. But the lights were out and the doors were barricaded. Quickly nodding at Edwin, Crystal got on the way to find a window she could climb through while Edwin seized the opportunity to phase through the doors. Darkness enveloped him and he could not hear a single sound. 

He slowly made his way across the reception area, trying to get a feeling for how big the building really was and where Esther might have been hiding in here. If there was actually any connection to Charles’ disappearance and this place, anyway. But Edwin couldn’t stop and think about this very real possibility. 

Focusing on his surroundings, he noticed suspicious lines behind a grandfather clock on his left. And sure enough, upon examining them up close, there was a small door hidden behind it. Anxious excitement coursed through his body and he waited impatiently for Crystal’s arrival. 

“Searched for the entrance for celebrities, did you?”

“Shut it. Let’s move this clock.”

Despite taking a few tries, at last they found themselves faced with the entirety of the door. The handle was made out of iron, but Edwin didn’t hesitate to grab it despite the pain and the indignant screech Crystal let sound. 

“Are you out of your fucking mind? You might still need that hand.”

“Irrelevant and inaccurate, I won’t lose it by touching iron for a few seconds, do not be silly. And regardless, Charles does matter more right now.” He tried to hide the red swelling on his palm but he was not ignorant enough to think that Crystal actually hadn’t noticed.

“A plan is needed. I would suggest you wait here, in case Esther is not here and tries to surprise us.” 

“Alright.” Crystal nodded. “Don’t do anything stupid, yeah? Charles wouldn’t forgive anyone if you got hurt.”

Least of all himself went unsaid but they both heard it all the same. 

Edwin inclined his head, opened the door and went inside.

The room unfolding in front of him was surprisingly spacious but shockingly empty except for the enormous carpet. Sliding onto his knees, he felt the cloth and without a doubt: laced with magic. It was easy enough to counter the spell that acted as both a means to soundproof and seal without a lock whatever lay underneath it. 

Moving it aside, he was faced with a basement and without a second thought, jumped down.

Like a moth to a flame, Edwin’s eyes immediately found Charles in the completely dark room. 

“Charles,” he breathed, the name echoing off the walls like a prayer. 

Charles was slumped against the far wall, hands in cuffs mounted next to head which was lolling unoriented. When he finally looked up, Edwin was met with a disbelieving smile. But before Edwin could reciprocate, a look of blinding terror coloured Charles’ face pale.

“Edwin!” he hissed, pulling at his cuffs which brought tears to his eyes in pain. “Please, please leave, Edwin, she’s after you.” 

Edwin didn’t even think about leaving without Charles. All it took was the span of a blink and Edwin fell to his knees beside him, trying to find magical leeway for him to put the cuffs out of action, but to his dismay he realised that Esther had reinforced her strategy, not just opting for simple iron but also a curse. 

“What? What do you mean by that?” he asked, only half listening as he mentally flipped through all the knowledge he had on this kind of magic.

“She,” Charles began, coughing, “She said she was impressed that we escaped last time. She wants to get rid of me first and see how much it’d raise your pain level to drain you again. Put a curse on me too, in case you showed up.”

That got Edwin’s attention. “What?! Do you feel alright? What kind of curse?” 

“Eh.” Charles’ head lolled to the side again, as if he was losing consciousness. “She wants to try sacrificing me and if you tried to rescue me, I’d turn in all kinds of horrible beasts. Wouldn’t want to hold onto me then, she said. Wants to see how far you’d go.” 

“Charles, Charles!” Edwin held him by the shoulders, careful not to jostle him. “I’d go anywhere for you, do you understand? A curse is not going to stop me.”

But Charles was barely there anymore, teetering on the edge of oblivion. “S’ planned for t’morrow. I won’t blame you for letting go, mate, you were scared for so long, don’t need any more of that, yeah?” And then he fell into something close to sleep but what most likely resembled unquiet rest.

There was nothing he could do against the cuffs, not with no grasp on what exact kind of magic he was dealing with and no idea how much time he had left until Esther would show up.

Edwin put a hand to Charles’ cheek. “Don’t worry, I’ll hold onto you, Charles, stay strong.”

With one last glance to his love, he began climbing back out of the basement.

Upon reading up on locations with magical and sacrificial history in Washington, Edwin concluded that their best chance was a secluded part of coastline, the stony beach along with the clear view of the sky providing the perfect atmosphere. 

Edwin and Crystal were hiding in the underwood, watching Esther where she was standing near the shore, when suddenly, something moved right in front of them. 

Crystal gasped. “Did- did the path just move?”

Quickly, he shushed her. “No, there is no path,” he whispered, “there is only the beach. That is a snake.”

True enough: a black snake slithered up to the ritual circle Esther had set up. This snake was even bigger than the one in Esther’s house in Port Townsend and tied to its back, there was Charles.

“Okay,” he said softly, “wish me luck.”

Consolingly, Crystal put her hand on his shoulder. “You don’t need luck. Go get him. I’ll deal with Esther.”

They stood up and sneaked closer. From a safe distance, Crystal started tapping into her powers. Edwin trusted her, therefore he turned to Charles straight away. 

Edwin had also found a remedy for the cuffs’ curse, which made it easy to pull him off, hugging him close and making it just far enough away to give Crystal the opportunity to handle the snake.

Tightening his arms around Charles, who was panting against his neck, it didn’t take long until he could feel Charles’ body morph. 

When Charles told him that he’d turn into various beasts, Edwin had thought about what he had been afraid of when he was still alive. After seventy years in Hell, any scary children’s story he had heard lost its appeal. When he was ten, his neighbour’s children had told him a story about Spring-heeled Jack who’d haunt the streets of London but also other areas of Britain. They told him about his terrifying looks with his claws, jumping at passersby to scratch them and then back into the night. 

Thinking back now, though, Edwin would gladly face a hundred variations of Spring-heeled Jack all alone if it meant that Charles would be safe and sound in their office come next morning.

“I’ve got you, Charles,” he mumbled. He didn’t respond and as Edwin looked up at him, he came face-to-face with a doll version of Charles, his eyes unseeing and mouth twisted in a numb smile, a hollow feeling to his body. Edwin could see his own face reflected in Charles’ eyes, unease boiling slowly under his skin. Where Charles’ hold on him had been strong and desperate only moments ago, now it was stiff and felt like porcelain. Edwin’s fear of dolls was real and tangible but he was far more scared of letting Charles go and shattering him on the stones.

He pressed Charles closer to him.

He stayed in this form for a while until Edwin felt a shift again. This time, Charles resembled the demon that had dragged Edwin to Hell. He was a familiar sight albeit an unpleasant one, so Edwin just put his forehead to Charles’ shoulder and waited it out, the haze around them slowly dissipating.

Next was the thing one of his demons had traded him to. He maintained that it was worse than a demon, for the simple reason that there were characteristics one could apply to a demon, it was possible to create a definition and know what to expect when one encountered a demon. This thing, however, was less a physical form and more a foreboding. The feeling deep in the bones that something horrible was imminent and no matter how hard one would try to work against it, failure was predestined. A looming presence - a threat. There was a voice in the back of the mind, whispering knowingly about every mistake he ever made and it was all your fault, right? Niko dying, Charles getting hurt, Crystal being dragged along to all of this, having been in Hell? But you don’t need me to tell you that, you already think so.

It was a sick trick and his only enemy in this was his own mind. But Edwin had grown, he had realised that thinking something didn’t have to reflect reality. And while he did blame himself for all these things from time to time, it was a passing sorrow. None of the people involved in these thoughts would want him to condemn himself and after his second time in Hell, Edwin had understood that he needed to show himself self-respect as well. Hell was an error Edwin had had no control over.

He did, however, have control over not letting Charles fear that he would be afraid enough to leave him. Because he was quite sure that underneath these appearances, Charles was conscious of what was happening and scared out of his mind.

“Don’t worry,” he whispered. “It’s alright.”

The fourth form was the spider-doll-demon. Its many arms were gripping Edwin’s back, the dolls’ heads pressing into his chest and neck. Edwin tried to slow his breathing. He spent more than seventy years running away from this demon and being so close to it was associated with blinding pain, being torn apart over and over again. 

Maybe now was the time to finally stop running and face his fear head-on. And so he looked straight at it, staring lovingly beneath its surface where he knew Charles was.

One second to the other, the demon was gone. There was no other figure, but Edwin still felt Charles’ presence and he tensed up at once, realising what this particular fear resembled: Charles was invisible, gone from his sight. No means for him to see him again, the only thing left for him to do was anxiously grip where Charles’ shoulders were supposed to be and not let Charles jerk away if he saw the horror on Edwin’s face. This was the only shape that compelled Edwin to screw his eyes shut. 

Time passed until he felt Charles change one more time. This was the only one not tailored specifically to one of Edwin’s fears and it showed him that he had been right in assuming where Esther had drawn her inspiration for this act from.

Charles resembled a burning coal, the heat licking at Edwin’s skin. He embraced him tightly, stood up with him and dragged him into the water. Below the surface, he could see Charles turning back into himself, his bright eyes the most beautiful sight he had ever seen. Nothing had ever felt as right as holding Charles in his arms.

Bubbles appeared in front of Charles’ mouth even though he didn't need to breathe and Edwin erupted spontaneously into laughter at the ridiculous sight of Charles trying to speak underwater. Despite being in the water, he felt himself get teary-eyed. He didn’t even try to fool himself into thinking that they would not both be sobbing messes as soon as they resurfaced. But for now all he needed to do was drink in Charles’ smile.

Back on the shore, Crystal was busy brushing off her jeans.

“Boys!” she yelled as soon as she saw them, running towards them and pulling them both into a hug at the same time. “Esther’s gone, let’s hope for good.”

“Yeah,” Charles whispered, putting one arm around Edwin’s hips. 

Crystal pulled back, smiling knowingly but in a comforting way. “So glad you’re both alright. I’ll go check to make sure no one here accidently saw me fighting a huge snake and a witch. Meet me at the hotel, yeah?” With that, she walked back in the direction of the trees. 

Charles turned to Edwin, smiling shyly. “So, you kept holding me,” he stated.

“Nothing has ever been easier, Charles.” He put his hands on Charles’ shoulders again. They fit so well there.

They hugged once more.

“You know,” Edwin mused, playing with Charles’ hair, “it was like Tam Lin.”

“Mhh?” Charles mumbled, he sounded tired. “What’s that?”

“A legendary Scottish ballad. Not letting your love go, no matter what.”

“Oh.” Charles’ eyes were wide. “Does that one end in tragedy too?”

Edwin smiled. “No, it ends precisely like this.” And Charles’ smile was brilliant as he leaned in and kissed Edwin.

[heartfullofleeches]

Cinnamon Cream

Yan Couple [F+M] + G.N Reader

A.N: The winning pair from a poll I ran to satisfy my craving for edible partners. The duo are heavily implied to made out of the foods they represent as a heads up

-

"Care for another roll, Hun? Can't send you home on an empty stomach."

This woman was trying to kill you. The tinge of cinnamon fresh on your tongue, you couldn't fathom the consequence of taking on another pastry when you've only sampled the first. Your stomach being empty was the last of your concerns with how big it was. Your free hand lie flat on the table and even it was off by a few inches. She claimed to have made this batch smaller so you could finish the full dozen before you left which you found quite impossible. Prying the fork from your teeth, you let the woman down as best you could - praying to be let off with the rest to take home.

"No thank you, Mrs. Cinnabar - I haven't finished the first."

Her jovial demeanor is not lost as she takes the utensil off your hands. "You can drop the formalities, Love. We're all friends here. You'll have to forgive me for everything else. Izzy worked so hard on his part and I would hate for it to melt before you become addicted to us both."

The smell hits you before you take the bite she offers. No matter the date in time, she always smelled like a bakery. Mrs. Cinnabar has been your neighbor for about a year now following the disappearance of the last tenant not even a week before she and her partner moved in. A friendly face to all, she had taken a special liking to you when your paths finally crossed. Being next door neighbors was one reason, but she also told you she took an immediate interest to you similar to the instant attraction she felt towards her husband. He wasn't in the picture often, and so your company patched up the hole his absence left. With the combination of her loneliness and the rewards of free meals - who were you to say no when she asked for you to visit? Today's dessert was meant to be special and now you knew why.

Cheeks stuffed with pastry, the sweet bread takes up a new texture as you manage to scarf it all down. Rich, velvety cream with just a hint of vanilla; the cold, ceremonious blend to an otherwise warm and sticky treat. As the taste settles on your tongue, you could piece together traces of the ice cream mixed directly into the icing of the cinnamon roll - the delicate flavor you had trouble putting your finger on before. It certainly lived up to the hype set for it by the woman at your side. The scent of cinnamon is almost overpowering as Cinnabar sweeps her thumb up the corner of your sugar crusted lips; smile as sweet as the roll on your plate.

"Well, don't keep me waiting. You like it - don't you, Hun?"

"I-it's great... Wish I could give my compliments to your spouse."

Cinnabar peaks up in her seat; a chill running down your spine at the extend of her grin. For a brief moment she looks behind you. "Who said you couldn't?"

Leaning back in your seat, you come to find that the source of your chattering teeth is not her smile, but the hands of the man gripping the back of your chair. His glare is as icy as the frost radiating off him, your breath visible as you exhale in surprise. Stoic as a brick wall, his eyes show signs of satisfaction drifting over the missing forkful of the now frozen dessert. Ever so slow, he cleans the remaining crumbs off your face before joining his wife's side of the table. Perching an arm over her shoulder, he slides a metal ring into her breast pocket as she takes his hand.

"Y/n, Izzy. Izzy..." Cinnabar rests her head on his wrist. "knows all about you already. Nosy thing has listened in on all of our conversations before now and I'd say he adores your company as much I as I."

"but... I thought you said he was gone most of the day?"

"Oh, he is, Hun. Up in his study. Not too good at speaking with other humans. Specially cuties like yourself, isn't that right, Dear."

Izzy nods his head with a grunt - pale face just shy of a flush under the kitchen lighting.

"We both care about you so much, Hun. Watching you has opened so many doors for us so it's only fair we open ours to you. We've thought hard about how to introduce you to life with us, but the best start was showing you have well we work together. How good all of us could be for each other. I'll keep you warm in the winter, Izzy can cool you down in the summer. You...can just be you. We know this is a lot to take in now, but soon you'll see things our way."

Cinnabar retrieves a set of keys from her pocket, twirling the familiar ring round her finger. "We can talk more about this after you finish your dessert."

[akookminsupporter]

Namjoon gave a good interview to Vogue Spain and in it he said a few things that I thought I'd share with those of you who may not understand Spanish.

This was at the end of the article but I want to write it first:

One thing that needs to be made clear about this album is that, no matter how much the rumour mill is trying to spin it, it is by no means the end of the successful band. "Oh, I'm not leaving BTS. Absolutely not. This is the first time I'm launching a solo project like this, so I'm trying to stand up and take my first steps. But I'm ambitious and I have willpower. So I don't want to miss the opportunity to do both. So I will try my best not to lose control and steer these two ships at the same time. A lot of bands split up and fall apart, but I hope that doesn't happen to BTS. I just love the music, I love my job, I love the band members and I love myself. If I can keep both projects going, I think it can be something legendary in the long run".

Other important parts of the article:

"The k-pop industry hasn't stopped growing since we debuted with BTS [in 2013]. It's become a lot more complex and has brought a lot more people into its structures. I think there are a lot of lights, but also some slippery shadows. Many of us started our careers very early as a group: we slept and lived together as teenagers. We became a real family, which is great, but this culture has also affected me a lot, because sometimes I find it difficult to be treated as an adult who has autonomy in his decisions. I'm perceived as just another cog in the crew, in the context of a mass phenomenon",

Did you ever feel like you were getting completely lost in this delirium of success? "I used to think so, but the funny thing is that I am fully aware that it was my own choice to devote myself to the k-pop industry. Nobody pushed me into it. But yes, I have lost myself at times. Although perhaps saying this is an excess of 'self-empathy'. There is no answer. Except that, if k-pop is about recharging the batteries of a mass audience and I'm responsible for doing that recharging, then I have to keep my feet firmly on the ground. As an adult, as a musician and as a human being. And these ten years of my career have helped me define who I am and learn to love myself. But I'm still in that process, you know? All these internal struggles will be recorded on records and videos," he explains.

"Music is really necessary for the world, but, when it comes to my music, sometimes I feel like I'm producing something unnecessary. If I were to die tonight, I don't think anything would change. It might matter to some people for a while, but a farmer or a street sweeper is more relevant to the functioning of society. When I ask myself about the role of our generation in historical terms, when I look at all the digital platforms and communities out there, I am overcome with confusion. There are a lot of people who don't want to think. They have frenetic lives and turn to music or television to escape, so the last thing they want is someone trying to lecture them from a pedestal. In that context, I wonder how I can make my music matter. I haven't found an answer yet, but I keep trying to bring my own perspective to it.

As to whether he is afraid that the army he has on Instagram (42.4 million followers) might one day turn against him for a silly mistake or a blunder, RM answers bluntly. "Yes, it scares me. It scares me 24 hours a day, 7 days a week. When I was younger I tried to come across as a cool guy who doesn't give a shit what other people think, but I don't think that's right anymore. I care about the publicity dimension of my career and the influence I can have on others. It stresses me out, yes, but I think I can handle it. That's why I don't retire or do things like go out and drink the night away and then drive drunk. I'm human, I can make mistakes, but I will do everything in my power to be the best version of myself. One of the keys is to treat this job for what it is: a job. I don't think artists have any special rights or status.

Note: if you would like me to translate another part of the interview, let me know.

[azrielslightintheshadows]

Hey, everything okay?

Thank you so much for fulfilling my request, I simply loved it! and I am completely in love with your writing!

If it's okay, I'd like to ask Rhys something, something sad but with a happy ending, because I'm a soft person. I thought of something, where maybe Rhys isn't spending time with the reader, and that's why the reader is feeling really bad, then when Feyre comes in and Rhys starts to help her, the reader gets worse, she stops eating, doesn't communicate much well with others and is lacking a lot in her training, but she closes her feelings of the bond and Rhys doesn't notice anything, and because of this, the reader becomes worse off, and perhaps thinks that Rhys doesn't love her anymore? Then, perhaps, one night where the Inner Circle would have dinner, perhaps to meet Feyre, the reader reaches her limit and ends up fainting?

And after that, she opens up, with difficulty, to Rhys, talks about her insecurities, jealousy and so on, and Rhys feels guilty, and starts to take care of her.

I know it's long, I'm sorry, if you don't like it, you can just ignore this

Together.

Rhysand x f!Reader

Masterlist.

Warnings; mentions of abuse, trauma and sexual assault.

It had been 50 years since you last saw your mate. 50 years since he last held you. 50 years since he last told you he loved you and you said it back. And one day everything changed, Amarantha was dead and you saw him again, he held you again and you told each other I love you again. But he wasn’t the same anymore. He would wake up sobbing, he would disappear in his office for hours and most nights he would come to bed after you had fallen asleep. At first you didn’t mind it because you knew he needed space and time to heal, you wished he would let you in, perhaps let you help him, but you respected his needs and backed off. Now though you felt like you were the problem, he had opened up to his brothers and was acting like his old self with them, with Mor and Amren too, but with you… he was still distant, he wouldn’t spend any time alone with you and when you were in the same room he would give his attention to anyone but you. If that wasn’t enough one day he left hurriedly and he didn’t come back for three days, and you had to find out by Mor that he took Tamlin’s bride -the girl who saved everyone from Amarantha- and he was keeping her in the palace above the court of nightmares. When you found out you immediately winnowed there ready to confront him about it, but changed your plans when you saw her alone, she was trying to read a piece of paper and you heard;

“Rhysand is the most handsome High Lord”

You almost scoffed at this and winnowed back to Velaris, you blocked the mating bond and locked yourself in the bedroom you shared.

Your appetite was gone, your body was numb and after some days you became an empty cell. You were losing weight, you couldn’t finish your training and kept to yourself.

Cassian and Azriel would stop by and ask you if you need anything but other than that you wouldn’t talk to them.

Mor and Amren were a bit more pushy but you handled them well and they let you be.

Rhysand was the only one who hadn’t noticed, well of course he wouldn’t, he was too busy with Feyre and you doubted that he still loved you.

You were laying in bed, staring at the ceiling -something you became really good at during the past week- when Mor walked in. She took a seat next to you and stroked your hair.

“Hey” she whispered and you looked at her. “Talk to me honey. What’s going on?”

“Nothing. Just tired.” You replied and turned your back on her. She let out a sight and got up “Rhys wants us all in the house of wind tonight… I don’t know why”

“Okay” you muttered and clenched your teeth. He sent Mor to inform you? He didn’t even want to see you anymore? Now it made sense why since that day you went to the court of nightmares he didn’t come home again. The more you thought about this you hadn’t even seen him since the day he took Feyre from the spring court. He came to Velaris you were sure of that you could feel his power but he never came home. You felt dizzy, was this the end?

You got up and took a bath, then you went to your closet and stared at your clothes. Nothing fitted you anymore, everything was hanging off you like it was four sizes bigger and it probably was. You picked a midnight black dress, you could see your bones sticking out in the places the dress didn’t cover you, but you couldn’t change, everything else wouldn’t stay in place.

You winnowed to the house of wind and hissed when your feet touched the ground, you were used to the drop but now… you were so weak that your whole body shook and you fell on your knees. You held the tears back and tried to stand again, Cassian saw you and ran to your side.

“Hey easy” he said and pulled you up “what happened to you?” He gasped when he took a better look at you.

“I’m fine” you muttered and walked inside. Azriel was there and he gasped when you walked in. You knew you looked bad but hearing the shadowsinger gasp made you realise just how bad.

You brushed them off and took a seat. Some minutes later you felt your mate’s power and you glanced at the glass doors. And there he was, his face was even more beautiful than the time you last show him. His violet eyes looked like the stars on the sky of Velaris, so bright and filled with emotions. And there was her too -Feyre. You stood up and took a step back. Your eyes filled with tears as you stared at her and the room started to spin. Your body ached, every bone seemed to groan and your head felt like it was going to explode. You couldn’t understand what was happening you only heard Cassian yell “Az catch her” and then darkness. You let the darkness embrace you with a smile, it reminded you of Rhys and you didn’t want to let go.

✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧

You groaned as sun hit your eyes. You opened them and you were met with the sight of the ceiling. Someone was there, you felt a hand holding your own and you moved your gaze next to you. Rhysand was sitting on a chair next to your bed, his hand was holding yours and his head was resting on the bed. He was sleeping. Slowly all the memories came back and you realised that you fainted. With a frown you moved your body away from him, the movement waking him up. He tensed when you removed your hand from his own and lifted his head to look at you.

“You’re awake” he said and his eyes filled with tears. You nodded. You didn’t know what to say, he was the reason you were in this situation.

“Sweetheart talk to me, what happened?” He asked.

“Like you care” you croaked. He furrowed his eyebrows.

“Of course I care, what are you talking about?”

“I think you should leave” you replied and turned your head the other way.

“Don’t do that. Please tell me what’s wrong” his voice was breaking.

Anyone would be surprised by that, the most powerful high lord’s voice breaking but you weren’t, you knew him well and you had seen him in way more vulnerable moments than this.

“You.” You cried out. “You are the reason behind this. Ever since you came back you haven’t spent a single minute with me. You are fine with everyone else and then cold and distant with me”

He was gaping at you.

“You couldn’t notice that I was breaking apart, that I wasn’t eating, I wasn’t training, I wasn’t functioning properly. And how could you notice, you weren’t even there, too busy with Feyre. Do you even love me anymore?” You were panting trying to keep the sobs in.

“Of course I love you” he exclaimed and his hand went through his hair pulling it. He stared at you and guilt filled his eyes, with a deep breath he started talking again. “Sweetheart… you are right I’ve been distant and cold. But it’s not because I stopped loving you, it’s quite the opposite… I love you so much that it hurts. I love you so much that I can’t be around you after everything I had to do under the mountain. I slept with her, it was the only way to keep all of you safe. Every night I spent in her room I was thinking about you and how I was betraying you. Every time I left her room I would mourn… mourn our love that I betrayed. And when I came back I didn’t want to touch you… I didn’t want to defile you with those hands.” He was crying now and so were you.

“Oh Rhys…” you reached out to him and caressed his jaw. “I know what you had to do and I know why you did it… you didn’t betray me or our love, you were abused and it pains me so much. Those hands that I love would never defile me. You are way too precious for this world. Don’t push me away please… let me remind you what love is like, let me show you how deserving you truly are of love. We can get through this together.”

He nodded his head and climbed into bed next to you. He pulled you in his arms and stroked your hair, a few sobs escaping him. He kissed your head and whispered;

“Together”.

✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧

Your mate was back. After that day everything changed. Rhysand talked to you about everything that happened under the mountain, you spent the next days with soft touches here and there and then you started making love again. At first it was hard, Rhys would flinch with every move you made but after a few tries he got used to it. A year later you had your mate back. He would spend most of his free time with you, he would take you on dates and trips. His caring self came back and all the little things he used to do to make you feel loved came back too.

Every night he would cuddle you, every morning he would make you breakfast and most evenings would be spent on the couch, with you laying on top of him and him reading your favourite books.

Like you said… you got through everything Together.

Hope you enjoy it.

Still working on the other requests.

Requests are open but delayed.

[arlathavellan]

Phantom Pains | II

Fandom: ACOTAR

Pairing: Azriel x Reader

Reader: she/her, (3/4-High Fae, 1/4-Tartera), Y/N used

Genre: Fluff, Angst, Hurt/Comfort

Word Count: 2.8k

Something is... wrong. Time missing, memories missing, thoughts missing. Wondering where things both big and small disappeared to, like the dress you were working on or even the past seventeen hours of your day. Something is very wrong, and the thought seems to slip your mind as soon as it comes. || Azriel has been a part of your life for years now, and has been courting you since the fall of Hybern. Only, things don't seem to be as simple as you'd both assumed they'd be. It seems someone thought you were the weak link-- the easy ticket to infiltrating the inner circle through its spymaster. And maybe you are.

|| Previous Part | Next Part | Masterlist ||

While there hadn’t been a repeat incident, you never could remember what happened during that near hour you had been standing in the street. The next few weeks passed by like a fog, and Azriel was more dutiful than ever when walking you home, even when you assured him you were fine.

Though, of course, he had his responsibilities. Inevitably, he was going to be called in for a mission that would pull him away from you. Which was how you found yourself in this situation.

"Morrigan," you greet, dipping your head slightly.

She takes the basket from your arms just as easily as your Illyrian, a lighthearted laugh lighting up the street. "Please, it's just Mor. Especially since you're going to be seeing a lot more of me."

That piqued your interest. "Oh? Is Azriel alright?"

"He's alright, it's just work. Duty calls." Her expression gives away nothing to the contrary.

The walk is filled with small talk, mostly carried by Mor. You'd only met her twice before, but she carried herself as if the two of you had been friends for years. It was reassuring in a way, keeping your mind off the melancholy that followed you when Azriel was absent. Even your shadows seemed in a good mood, dancing at your feet and twirling around your legs as you walked.

The conversation drifted into stories about the three Illyrians, mildly embarrassing stories you were certain you'd never get from the shadowsinger himself.

"Of course, Cassian would deny everything if you were to ask," Mor jokes, "though Az might come clean if you bat your eyes at him."

You can't stop the giggle from bubbling in your throat, bringing your hand up instead to cover your mouth. "And the High Lord just… let that happen?" You ask, finding your voice.

She sends you a near-conspiratorial look. "Let? Rhys planned it."

This time she joins you in your laughter, and you can't help but wonder the last time you'd felt such a lightness in your chest. As your shop door comes into view, you clear your throat to calm yourself.

"Well, here I am," you say.

Mor adjusts the basket in her arms, motioning for you to lead the way. You weren't too sure what to expect from the woman, but she slipped in easily as you held the door open for her, making her way to the back to set the basket down on your work table.

"Would you like some tea before you leave?" You can see her perk up, sending you a smile over her shoulder.

"I'd like that very much."

-----

The High Lord's cousin is easy company. She seems accustomed to carrying a conversation, and handles any lapses of silence with a careful grace. The look in her eyes, however, occasionally pricks the hairs on the back of your neck.

She's looking for something.

It makes sense, of course. You hadn't had many interactions with Azriel's family, and this was a casual enough situation to try and understand who you are. Even then, there was a nagging at the back of your mind, a feeling of something lurking in the shadows, trying to hide from her gaze.

Whatever her goal, she gives you a warm smile when her cup runs empty.

"I'll let you get some rest," she says, standing smoothly from her spot on your couch.

You rise as well to walk her to the door. "Thank you, for walking me home and keeping me company."

Mor's eyes soften, and her warm hands rest gently on your upper arms. "I do hope you can talk Azriel into bringing you around for dinner. I know everyone would love to officially meet you."

Heat rises to your face, and your shadows react in a swirl at your waist. The cold skin of the back of your hand is all the more apparent as you press it against your cheek, and she smiles at the gesture.

"Please, don't be afraid to let me know if you need anything." She finally lets go with a reassuring squeeze, making her way to the door.

Something in the back of your mind stirs, like a desperate hand reaching out for her from the darkness. But you simply smile with a hand raised in goodbye as she turns around, and it drops as the door shuts.

You find yourself very, very tired.

-----

The next day follows your usual routine as always. Amaria joining you shifted your schedule slightly, but every day still felt the same as the next.

"You know," you joke one evening as the two of you work on mending, "pretty soon I might have enough money to take a vacation. I should have hired another pair of hands sooner."

Amaria laughs, her hands ever steady despite the slight shake of her shoulders. "You wouldn't take a vacation even if you could. You'd miss working too much."

The smile that splits across your face is almost painful as you laugh with her. "I'm serious, Amaria. I'm going to pack a bag and pick a court. Maybe I'll go to Adriata and spend some time by the sea."

"And pick up some new fabrics while you're at it?" She asks. You look up in time to see your friend and co-worker roll her eyes with a slight smile, and a warmth blooms in your chest as she reads you like a book.

"Summer doesn't trade with us like they used to," you defend yourself. "They have beautiful fabric that you can layer easily—"

"—without bunching or overheating," she recites.

After less than a month, it was as if Amaria had been there forever. Her light and airy laughter echoes in your mind, and you wonder how you managed to do this all on your own the past decades.

She carefully folds the shirt she was working on before stacking it in the basket. "Are we doing deliveries tonight?"

Narrowly avoiding pricking yourself as you push your needle through the breeches you're mending, you nod in response. "We'll be closing earlier than usual, I promised Az I would be careful while he's gone."

"Oh?" Amaria says. "Is he away?"

A smile tugs at your lips as you think about him, your shadows twisting around your legs. "For the next few days, yes. Unfortunately, I can't keep him all to myself."

"I don't mind going home on my own if you'd like to be back before dark," she offers.

You shake your head as you tie off your thread. "Nonsense. He's a little overprotective, but I still know the city better than you. The last thing I need is to send you off into the night on your own."

Amaria laughs as she grabs her coat from its hanger on the wall. "Oh, of course not. How will you ever afford your vacation in Summer without your star employee."

Eyes shining in mirth, you shoot her a playfully scathing look. "Exactly! So you'd better keep yourself out of trouble and make us good money."

The two of you laugh, and she picks up her basket as you prepare your own.

The walk around Velaris is calming, especially as you go from the more populated areas to the more residential ones. Conversation with Amaria is light as ever, and you find yourself quietly appreciating the atmosphere of Velaris for most of the walk. You'd lived in Velaris most of your life, and you hoped she would come to love it as much as you did.

Though, of course, you couldn't fault her for the occasional melancholy that fell over her face when she was deep enough in thought. The Night Court was a very long way from Spring, and you couldn't imagine a shift like that. You wondered just how long she had been away from wherever she considered home.

As the two of you come up on her apartment complex, the light of the setting sun breaks through the buildings you're walking past and lights up her pristine braid like strands of copper wire. Her hair is long, the tail of her braid swinging at her hips, and you find yourself captivated by the motion.

You wait under the tree in the courtyard as she bids you good night at her door, and take a deep, steadying breath before adjusting the baskets on your arm and making your way home. For hundreds of years you lived in Velaris on your own, but Azriel seemed to sweep you off your feet in no time. It was like a crucial part of your day was missing if you didn't get to speak with him, as if he'd always been there.

Instead, you find yourself walking home alone.

The setting sun keeps you company, its dwindling warmth settling on your shoulder like a comforting hand. Knowing it won't be gone for some time, you let yourself walk slowly.

When you come up on the shop, a familiar face is waiting for you. She perks up as she notices you, raising a hand in greeting.

"Morrigan," you greet, dipping your head slightly.

Something flickers across her face as she lowers her hand, but it's quickly replaced with a smile. "Are you just coming back from deliveries?"

You raise your baskets slightly with a nod. "I wanted to walk Amaria home, so we left earlier than usual. Would you like to come in for tea?"

Mor seems to relax at the offer, readily agreeing and following you into the shop. Setting your baskets down on the table, you head into the kitchen to make some tea for you both.

"Azriel is due to be back tomorrow," Mor says, making herself comfortable on the stool beside your island counter. "It's almost a shame, one more day and it would have been Cassian's turn to keep an eye on you—he was really looking forward to it."

"I never would have considered that the Inner Circle of our great Court had so much time on their hands," you say lightheartedly, filling your kettle with water. "As much as I appreciate it, I haven't had another episode like that night."

Her voice is soft when she responds next, like she can sense the approach of a sensitive subject as you set the kettle on the burner. "If anything, it gives Azriel some peace of mind and the rest of us the chance to get to know you."

You falter as you open your tea cupboard. Gaze scanning each box, you lift and read labels looking for the container of your favorite evening tea. "That's odd…" you mumble to yourself.

Mor made an inquisitive hum, but you shook your head and grabbed a box of a similar blend to brew instead. "You say Azriel’s returning tomorrow; I assume his mission went well? He’s alright?"

“It did, and he is,” she responds happily, as vague as you expected. “I don’t know much he tells you about what he does—”

“Not much,” you interrupt before she can say more that she should. “I suppose he prefers it that way, and I wouldn’t want to get you in trouble.”

Mor laughs lightly, before leaning over the counter to continue. “I hope you don’t take it personally. It’s for your own safety more than anything.”

A heavy fog weighs down on your mind as she continues to reassure you. You’d never doubted Azriel’s intentions in keeping his work secret from you, but for some reason hearing it now has a nagging feeling stirring in the back of your mind. He doesn’t trust you, the voice insists. You need to know. You need to know. The overwhelming sensation nearly drowns you, cut only by the whistling of the kettle. You take a few steadying breaths, blinking to clear your hazy sight as you prepare the tea.

“Are you alright?” Mor asks, concerned.

“Yes, of course. Just a bit tired.” A reassuring smile over your shoulder ends your response.

Though she doesn’t seem too convinced, she doesn’t press the issue. Instead, she redirects the conversation to something lighter. Court politics have never been your thing, but you can easily see how she was the third-in-command of your High Lord. Her presence is comforting, like a tether to the docks keeping you from being swept out into the waves.

As the night dwindles and you try to gather your thoughts, its as if you find one long-lost, shoved under a dusty shelf in your mind. “Oh, your dress!”

She startles at the outburst, but recovers smoothly. “My dress?”

"The dress you commissioned for Starfall! I should have it done by tomorrow night if you wouldn't mind staying for a fitting."

Her brows pinch as she examines your face, and you feel something dark stirring at the back of your mind. "My dress. For Starfall."

Your head tilts slightly as confusion settles in. "Yes, the one you asked for last month? It's felt like I haven't been making any progress on it, but it's nearly done now. Do you still want it?"

Anxiety builds in your chest, squeezing your heart tightly as you try and decipher the expression she's wearing. Suddenly, she's smiling again with her hands clasped in front of her. "Oh, of course! Do you think I could see it now?"

"Absolutely!" The shift in demeanor almost throws you off balance, but you manage to regain your professionalism and return a smile. You lead her back into your workshop, head spinning like you just got off a swing. The backs of your cold fingers press against your forehead as you try to ground yourself, counting the steps to the dress form.

"I wanted to get your input on how the bodice hangs," you start, lifting up the sheet covering the dress. "I know you mentioned you wanted a draping that was loose and flowy, but I was worried the fa—"

"—fabric might snag on my jewelry," she says, breathless.

You perk up as she finishes your concern. "Exactly!" As you turn to see her, however, the harrowed look on her face stops you in your tracks.

Her eyes trail the near-finished dress, and you feel a creeping dread as you clasp your hands together in front of your chest. "Do you… not like it?"

The silence that stretches between you has alarms sounding in your head, as if something horrible is about to happen. A voice in the back of your mind is screaming, cursing the dress, telling you to send her away, get her out now, it’s just a damn dress. Morrigan's gaze meets yours, and it feels as if you're made of stone. "Y/N, how long have you been working on this dress?"

"I… off and on since you ordered it. It isn't finished yet, I know it's—" her hands clasp onto your upper arms gently yet firmly, cutting off your rambling.

Her next question only serves to worsen the cacophony in your mind, your teeth gnashing as you sway on your feet. "How long ago did I order this dress?"

"About a month ago, I think?" Her hands tighten their grip, enough to keep you steady but not enough to hurt. Something about her expression is scaring you, something soft and scared that tells you something is very, very wrong.

“Y/N,” she says, quiet and gentle like talking to a spooked horse. “I need you to come with me. Right now.”

This isn’t working. We’ll try something else, you useless girl.

The pain hits you at once. Jaw clenching, knees buckling, eyes rolling back into your head as you slam your palms into your temples. Just barely, you can hear the sounds of her shouting something incoherent over the tidal wave of screeching in your head. It’s all encompassing, as if you were submerged in it. Something cold and hard supports your body, and you can vaguely make out the grey stone floor pressed into your cheek.

Dark shapes rush towards you, wrapped in a suffocating power you’d never experienced before. You can feel that tell-tale twist in your gut that came from the rare occasion Azriel would winnow with you in tow, and realize Mor had taken you away from the shop. One of the figures stoops down, though you're unable to focus your erratic gaze enough to see their face. A hand covers your eyes, and everything goes quiet. Nothing but your ragged breathing and heart pounding in your head. Then, the feeling of something requesting entry to the forefront of your mind.

Don’t be afraid, Y/N.

Fear grips you regardless as the same manner of voice fills your head as before. But instead of whispering from some dark corner, this one spoke plainly, as though it had no reason to hide. Your chest tightens, and all you can think of is Azriel. He had been so worried that something more had happened to you, but you had brushed off his concerns like always. What had you done?

“Please,” you manage, barely more than an exhale.

I can get them out, if you let me in.

The weight of consciousness leaves you as you succumb to the encroaching darkness.

I will be quick. Rest, Y/N. Azriel will be here when you wake.

----------

Am I just going to pretend it hasn't been about half a year since I posted part one? Yes, because this is about my fifth rewrite of the overarching plot. Thank you for your patience <3

TAGLIST (comment or message to be added/removed)

@pellucid-constellations @horneybeach1 @hyemishii

[mika-no-sekai-blog]

With the last breath IV

Word count: 1500+

Warnings: mentions of eating disorder

Part III || Part V

This week was a real rollercoaster full of bad luck. But since this chapter is ready I can post it. I'm working on the next one and I'd love to cut it somewhere to make it into two chapters, but can't find good place so it may come out as one really long one.

I'm sorry for any mistakes. English isn't my first language 😅

Several days passed since you woke up in Azriel's bed. You hid the dress soaked in his scent to the bottom of the wardrobe, often sitting down and burying face into the fabric. His scent helped you calm down and scare away bad dreams.

Since that day quite a lot had changed.

At first you thought you were crazy. Things were moving around or suddenly appearing in front of you. Repeatedly you saw movement out of the corner of your eye, but when you turned around, nobody was there. It took you some time to figure it out. But once you found out there were Azriel's shadows following you around, it didn't scare you anymore. They were quite handy especially when you needed to find something.

As it made you incredibly happy that he cared enough to keep an eye on you, it was also a reminder of the biggest mistake you'd ever done, making you feel down and your stomach twist at times.

The shadows followed you literally everywhere which was sometimes really uncomfortable. You were sure they informed him about everything you did on that particular day, but how much exactly did they tell him? It was nerve wrenching. You could only hope they would keep sensitive information to themselves.

Another big change was the shadowsinger himself. As soon as you entered the library he was there. No matter where you worked or how many times you had to move to another floor during the day, you always spotted him somewhere nearby reading book or doing some paperwork.

The first few days it made you nervous and you couldn't really concentrate on work. Even if you tried you wouldn't be able to count how many times you caught yourself staring at him, admiring his beautiful face, strong body, big hands.. and daydreaming. Then somehow you got used to his silent presence. It always made your day seeing him there, making you grin even while aligning and dusting the books.

And that wasn't everything. He often came to you to talk with you. At those moments your heart always started to beat much faster, mouth went dry and your palms started to sweat. It didn't give much sense because after the decades you could hardly call each other acquaintance, strangers more likely, but it was happening. You weren't in position to ask why suddenly he changed his mind so radically, nor you didn't even want to complain. You were happy for this change, giving you a faint hope that maybe.. someday.. you could be at least friends.

When it happened for the first time, you were so shocked you turned red like tomato to the roots of the hair and ran away. Next time you were mentally ready and managed to stutter few words. But you weren't the only one struggling. Azriel seemed to be just as nervous as you. Nevertheless he kept coming even several times a day for word or two. After few days both of you got used to it and were able to talk normally.

First, he would talk to you just about such ordinary things like weather or ask about your wellbeing, but soon enough he started to ask about your current life, past or likes and dislikes.

Lately you spent a lot of time discussing about the books you were reading. You were surprised to find out he read novels and often the ones you liked. He even gave you some recommendations for interesting ones.

You got up early as every morning and prepared for the day. Before leaving the room you checked out the weather and time. 'Should be okay now,' you thought to yourself and headed to the kitchen to make breakfast with few shadows at your heels.

Of course you could eat with other priestesses at dining hall the meal House served you, but there was something relaxing about making your own meal. That's why you always used inner circle's kitchen. But it wasn't the only reason. You didn't like people watching or commenting on how much you put on your plate. You even minded being watched while eating.

During the years living with Mor and Illyrian males here, you figured out their morning routines and knew when no one would be in the kitchen.

What a shock it was when you found out that the kitchen always empty at this time, was occupied. By Azriel!

He was standing behind the kitchen island putting scrambled eggs on the plate. There were already several other plates with toasts, bacon, cut fruits and vegetables set on the table.

He hadn't notice you yet, so there was still chance to get away and let him have his breakfast. You turned around, planing to try your luck later, but the shadows had an idea of their own. They slowly floated around you towards their master.

"Good morning," Azriel said while washing the pan in the sink, back turned to you. His voice was still raspy and that sound made your heart stutter and the heat spread in your lower belly.

"Good morning," you answered, taking a step into the kitchen from you hideaway. You frowned at traitorous shadows, but they just danced around calling you closer. "I'm sorry. I don't want to disturb you. I'll go." You wanted to leave quickly, but he stopped you.

"Would you join me for breakfast?" back still turned to you, he asked. Eyes widening you shifted nervously on your feet. It was too tempting, but it would be just the two of you. You really didn't want to have his full attention while eating. You bit your lower lip, fighting with yourself.

You looked at his strong form still washing already clean pan. You could read the tension in his posture, but you weren't sure what caused it. In the end the heart won the fight and you accepted the invitation. His tense shoulders visibly relaxed.

Azriel put the pan away and took two plates and glasses. As he turned to the table his lightly flushed cheeks came into view. With shiny eyes of hazel colour with golden flecks he smiled shyly at you which you returned. This side of him was new to you and you were more than eager to learn more. You'd never seen him behave like this with other females. A small flame of hope lit up in your chest.

Your heart was beating faster with each step you took towards the table. You halted before sitting down, examining food on plates. Suddenly you became nauseous. The food looked yummy and smelled amazing, but there was too much. Much more than two people could possibly eat.

"Is something wrong?" Azriel asked noticing your pale face. His eyes slightly narrowed.

"It looks amazing," you tried to smile. "Is Cassian coming too?"

"He's training with priestesses right now," Azriel tilted his head to the side with unreadable expression, few strands of dark hair falling into his eyes. "Do you want him to come?"

"No," you said quickly. "It's just.. there's so much food.." You felt the heat burning your cheeks.

"It should be enough for two of us," he said, a smirk tugged corners of his mouth upward. You had nothing to say to that, so you just swallowed hard and sat down. Azriel handed you plate and started filling his own. Following his example you took a piece of bacon and a bit of scrambled eggs.

"Would you like some freshly baked bread? It's from that new bakery on the bank of Sidra that opened last week," Azriel offered you. With nervous smirk you took small piece.

You started to eat. Taking the first bite of eggs you blinked in surprise, nervousness forgotten for awhile.

"It's so delicious. I didn't know you can cook so good,"you looked at him grinning. He blushed, but grinned too.

"I'm glad if you like it."

"I love it." You took another bite and then another. While you were eating Azriel kept offering you different goodies he'd prepared until you tried at least a piece of everything on the table. By the time you finished you were so full you thought you were going to burst. It was the most delicious food you'd ever eaten, but you were sure you won't be able to eat anything till next morning.

Azriel finished last bits and together you cleaned the table and washed dishes.

"Thank you for amazing meal," you said as you put last plate to its place.

"Thank you for keeping me company," he leaned against the counter putting his hands into the pockets of trousers. "Are you going to the library?"

"No, it's still too early. I thought I would return to my room and read for awhile."

"I see." His smile faded for a second, but it was back in a blink of eye. "So.. I guess I'll see you later."

With that you returned to your room thinking about his unusual behaviour and about the huge change that happened since he saved you. Even though it was still new to you and hard to believe, you liked it and hoped it's real. With every second you spent with him your heart swelled with love and you fell harder for him.