#oh let me assign one to the ocs you people know of too.

[crescentmp3]

my ocs are very contrasting with each other

[dira333]

Hurting together - Aizawa x Reader

mentions of Chronic pain, requested by @alienaiver I hope this is in any way what you've imagined.

“Nervous?” Shouta asks after a full 120 seconds of your leg bouncing without stopping.

“Huh?! Oh, oh, I’m sorry!” You scramble to a halt, arm resting on your leg to keep it in place. “I didn’t even notice I was doing it.”

“Doesn’t mean you have to stop now. But if you wanna talk about it, I heard that helps.”

“Oh, uh, I don’t wanna … I don’t wanna annoy anyone,” you mutter, eyes flickering from left to right.

“Do you wanna hear my story then?” He asks, not because it’s something he likes sharing, but you’re cute and what’s the alternative? Staring at the wall until he gets called in.

“Oh, if you… if you don’t mind?”

He huffs out a breath. “Well, apparently it’s not healthy to break a bone every single week.”

“Oh!” Your eyes grow huge. “Every single week? Wait, is it the same bone.”

“No,” he snorts softly, “At least then I’d have a better story. I’m a pro Hero, I just happen to get into fights.”

“And what’s your Hero Name? Fragile Bone?”

It takes him a second to recognize the joke, snorting loudly when he does. You’re snappy, now that the anxiety fades.

“No, it’s uh… Eraser Head.” He waits a second for you to recognize him, the star-struckness to hit. But it doesn’t. Instead, you cock your head to the side and eye him thoroughly. 

“Interesting,” you say, “I remember an Interview you were forced to give a few years back. Uh, I think there was a streaker at the Sports Festival?”

He laughs. “Good Memory. Yeah, that was one of our students. He didn’t have his Quirk under Control back then.”

“And you’ve got a broken bone now? Or is this just a check-up?”

“Bloodwork.”

“Yikes,” you pull a face, “me too. It’s the worst.”

“It is,” he agrees, dares to ask before he can lose his courage again. “Want me to hold your hand through the process?”

And it’s smooth, smoother than he’s ever been able to - maybe the absence of his friends does benefit his ability to flirt - and he might even get his hopes up for a second there - until your face falls.

“That’s really tempting, you know, but I… uh… my hands are hurting. That’s why I’m here, you know, to figure out why they’re hurting like this. So hand-holding is kinda a no-go.”

“Oh, I understand,” the dejection must be audible in his voice because you reach out for him, though you don’t take hold.

“But if you want,” you offer, voice a little breathless, “you could… uh… put your hand on my shoulder? It might look weird, but-”

“I’ve seen weirder things,” he offers and your smile lights up the room.

-

“Oh, I didn’t know you were coming in together,” Doc Oc greets him and for a moment he is paralyzed, frozen between two different emotions. Surprise, because Doc OC’s obviously familiar with you and he’s got the worst memory when it comes to names. Embarrassment, because it’s usually not the best thing if a Doctor remembers you by name, let alone this one.

“Ah,” you smile, “We met in the waiting room. Bloodwork, you now. It’s easier if it’s done together.”

“That I can agree with. Now, who wants to go first?”

-x-

“Now, I believe you owe me something,” Recovery Girl announces one afternoon, a big smile cutting into her wrinkly face. “What’s her name?”

“Huh?” Shouta had been busy reading through this week's assignment, deciphering the texts. Denki’s Handwriting almost requires a PHD in decoding.

“Doc Oc and I have been friends for quite some time. One would call us even… very close… if you know what I mean. He said you brought in lovely company.”

“Oh, uh, yeah, I guess…” He can’t help but blush at her tone. Too much information.

“Well, are you going to ask her out? You cannot count this as your first date, surely? A fancy Dinner is a must.”

“A fancy Dinner is a must for whom?” Hizashi’s leaning around the door and Shouta groans. Of all people to overhear this.

“Shouta’s girlfriend.”

“Shouta has a girlfriend? Shouta, my man, why didn’t you tell me? Don’t you love me anymore? Your best friend?”

He crawls further into his sleeping bag, closing his eyes. Those assignments can wait, if he can fall in to a coma first, he-

-x-

“So?” Rumi leans against your Desk. “Did he call you?”

“Not yet,” you’re chewing on your lower lip, “But he’s probably busy.”

“Busy my ass,” she snorts angrily. “You’re a catch. If he doesn’t get a groove on you’re gone. He should know that.”

You level your friend - and boss - with a glare. “I’ve been single for a year.”

“Which he doesn’t know,” she sings. “But on another note, have you’ve gotten the results from your bloodwork? You know we only need that so we can get started on your hands-free Desktop.”

“Why do you sound more excited about this than I am?”

“Because you’re afraid of change and I am not. Just think, your hands will finally get to rest!”

“Yay,” you wave them around half-heartedly when your phone pings.

Rumi’s already grabbing it from your desk, always faster than you. “Oh, it’s your guy.” She hands it back. “Not looking.”

“Thank you for respecting my privacy,” you joke and open the short text only to gasp.

“He’s asking me out.”

“Great, so he’s not an idiot. Confirm.”

“No, no, he’s asking me out for a date tonight. You know how bad my legs have been today, I can’t show up with a cane.

“Why not?”

“Because,” you drag out, “the last time I did that there was no second date.”

“And you think he’s that shallow?”

“I just don’t want to jinx it.”

“Fine,” she huffs, crossing her arms. “Tell him you can’t tonight because you’re working late. Ask him if he’s able to reschedule for tomorrow or Friday.”

You hesitate, but do as you’re told.

“And now,” she grabs your bag as soon as you put your phone down, “you get your cute ass home and rest. I want you as fit as you can be tomorrow so you can enjoy that date.”

“But work-”

“Work is like my ex - it will always wait for you.”

-x-

“Fuck,” Shouta groans, head on his arms. The pain is strong today.

“You… uh… you good?” He hears a familiar voice from the door. Shit, he forgot about training with Hitoshi.

“Fantastic,” he grinds through his teeth though he does not dare to lift his head. Lunch was decent, but he doesn’t want to taste it again.

“Do you need Recovery Girl?”

“No, I’m going to be fine. Can you get me my painkillers from my bag? I would, but moving-”

“Sure, sure.” He can hear rustling and then a pill is dropped into his outstretched palm.

Slowly, carefully, he drags his arm back to pop it into his mouth, swallows it dry. He’s got loads of practice.

“Give me twenty minutes and I’ll be right as rain.”

“Uh, if you say so.”

-

He’s got a black eye.

He’s got a black eye and a date in about thirty minutes and the painkillers are making him particularly loopy today.

Hitoshi wouldn’t have been able to hit him in the face if his reaction time hadn’t been so slow. He’s lucky no bone is broken.

Something tells him that it would be better to reschedule, but wouldn’t that make him look disinterested when he’s not?

-

“Mew.” 

Shouta turns to the sound, surprised to see a black cat looking up at him. There’s a hedge there, and he bends down to pet the animal. 

“You’re loud, huh?” He comments on the purring, taking a seat on the ground when his knees turn a little wobbly. He really is getting older. 

The cat disappears into the hedge and he holds out a hand, making little sounds to lure her back out.

Just as he can spot the green eyes blinking back at him, a banknote is dropped into his hand.

“Here,” a voice says, “It’s cold out.”

Shouta freezes, only to look up into your face.

“Uh,” he makes, suddenly envious of Kaminari when he cooks his brain. 

“I didn’t mean-” you say just as he exclaims loudly: “There’s a cat.”

“Where?” You ask, peering into the hedge. “I love cats.”

-x-

“This was nice,” you tell him after Dinner, the episode with the Cat now something you can laugh about. “Would you like to do it again sometimes?”

“Yes,” he nods slowly, “I’m sorry if I was a little loopy today. I took… uh, I forgot to take a nap.”

“Ah,” you smile, “You’re getting old too? If I don’t get my usual lunch nap I’m not so nice to be around.”

Shouta laughs. “Somehow I find that hard to believe. You’re very nice to be around.”

“You think so?” You ask, heart skipping a beat when he nods.

“How are your hands?” He looks down at them, “Can I hold them? Or do they still hurt?”

“If you don’t squeeze them I should be fine,” you say, praying that it’s the truth.

It is a little uncomfortable, if you were to tell the truth, but he’s gentle and your heart blooms at the implications.

If only you could put this moment in a jar, keep it for all the days where it’s hard to get up.

 -

“So?” Rumi leans over your desk, grinning wide. “Gimme the scoop.”

“We went out, it was amazing, I don’t know when I’m going to see him again.”

“That’s not the scoop, that’s a short summary. I want every detail. Also, what does it mean you don’t know when you-”

The ringtone of your phone cuts her off. You take a peak only to gasp.

“It’s him. He’s calling.”

“Well, pick up. I’ll come back as soon as you’re finished. And I want all the details.”

-

It’s hard to find time for another date.

Shouta works two fulltime jobs and you’re overwhelmed with just one.

But he calls or texts every day, sending you pics of cats whenever he’s out on patrol.

It’s nice, but it could be nicer.

When he asks what you’re doing and you’re in bed, pain holding you down, you cannot tell him the truth. Because he doesn’t know the truth. And telling him over the phone seems insensitive.

Sometimes he sounds pretty loopy when he calls and you wonder if he’s getting enough sleep. But when you ask him about it he evades the question so masterfully, that you only remember it hours after the call.

“I think I have to come clean,” you tell Rumi one day during lunch, your hands in thick compression gloves to combat the pain. “This season is hitting me hard and I cannot postpone our next date again just because I cannot go anywhere without a cane.”

“I’m sure it’s going to go well. From what you’ve told me about him he seems very nice.”

“Yeah,” you sigh,”so nice I don’t want to lose him.”

-x-

Of all the moments for a migraine to hit, this has to be the worst. 

Okay, maybe the second worst, because he’s not currently fighting someone.

But he’s been pressing his temple against the fridge doors of this Konbini for half an hour now, clearly unsettling the other shoppers, and his painkillers are far, far away in his car’s glove compartment.

Every time he thinks he’s got it now, turning away from the coldness has his lunch rise up in his throat.

“Shouta?” A familiar voice asks and the ice seeps into his veins. It’s you.

“No, I’m not Shouta. You must mistake me for someone else.”

“You’re wearing a nametag. Backward, but you’re wearing it.”

He sighs. “Can you just pretend you’re not seeing me?”

“I could, but why?”

“This is embarrassing.”

“I mistook you for a homeless man, I think we’ve already reached top embarrassment.”

“I’m having a Migraine.”

“See,” he can hear the encouragement in your voice, knows exactly how your mouth curls at the words even if he cannot see it. “That’s very low on the embarrassment list. Do you need a painkiller?”

“Yeah, but they’re in my car.”

“What are you using.”

“I doubt you have that. You can only get it via prescription.”

Shouta names it, hears you chuckle.

“Oh, you bet I got that. One pill is enough, right?”

“Right.” He can hear rustling before a pill is pressed into his hands. He swallows it dry. 

“It will take me a minute to come to my senses.”

“No worry at all. I can stay here with you.”

“You don’t have to.”

“Oh, but I want to. By the way… the Bloodwork… was that about your Migraine?”

“Yeah,” he swallows around the lump in his throat. “And other stuff.”

“Mhm.” Some more rustling.

“How did you get those pills by the way? You don’t work in a pharmacy, right?”

“Oh, no, I don’t deal drugs if that’s what you’re asking.” You laugh, but it tapes off awkwardly. “I… I suffer from chronic pain.”

“I’m sorry.”

You laugh again, but you don’t sound amused. “Yeah, me too.”

Silence settles between them. Slowly, the pain in his head eases into something manageable and he peels himself away from the cool glass to look at you.

You’re staring at the ground, a cane in your hands. 

“I’m going to be pretty loopy for the rest of the day,” he tells you, lump in his throat, “But do you wanna grab a coffee after this?”

The surprise in your eyes tells you what he’d already assumed. You’re not used to people accepting your condition as something that just is. 

“Might ask you some questions as soon as my head works properly again,” he adds like a threat, “but for now I’d just like to look at you. You’re really pretty.”

“You’re really loopy,” you giggle.

“Mhm, it’s going to get even worse, sugardrop.” His hand finds your elbow, careful to avoid your hands and you knock your head lightly against his shoulder.

You’re probably a weird-looking couple to the outside world, but he’s never cared much about that anyway.

[sitkowski]

late night devil, put your hands on me ( vinny mauro x oc )

pairing: vinny mauro x oc, vinny mauro x chris motionless cw: 18+ MDNI ⚠️ asks and assignments, subby vin x dominant oc, also contains chris x vinny, open relationships, sexting (sending explicit pictures), exhibitionism, edging, marking/biting, masturbation, dry humping, orgasm denial, face slapping, unprotected vaginal sex, come marking, mommy kink, daddy kink mention. word count: 3.1k author's note: week two of friends in sin, a day late. this one was a last minute change in plans. title comes from "teeth" by 5 seconds of summer. divider by @saradika-graphics ✨

⇉ masterpost || taglist signups || read on ao3 || kinktober masterpost

Find somewhere quiet. You have ten minutes. Do not come.

Vinny almost regrets checking his notifications while they’re out to lunch before the show that night. The sound itself has become Pavlovian, the little chime coming from his phone that always seems to come at the most random times and he gets hard hearing it. But that’s the whole point. It’s what he agreed to before he left for tour. Half the time, he’s around people when he gets them, and she knows that. It’s why she does it. Like now, when he has to mumble an excuse to everyone and find the nearest bathroom. No one is really paying him any attention, but he can’t help but think about it as he walks away from the table, if anyone knows what she tells him to do. He likes that more than he probably should.

The bathroom door doesn’t have a lock, but there are stalls and he checks that the bathroom is empty before he goes into one and latches the door behind him. She didn’t specify when the ten minutes started, but he’s assuming that it’s from the time she sent the text. Slumping against the door, he sits his phone down on top of the toilet paper holder and immediately starts undoing his jeans. Even if he doesn’t get to come, he doesn’t have time to waste. He shoves his pants and boxers down around his thighs, listening for anything but the sound of the air conditioning humming through the ceiling and the upbeat pop music playing out in the diner filtering in through the speakers. It’s quiet except for that.

He thumbs at the head of his cock, spreads precome around, and sinks his teeth into his bottom lip to muffle the satisfied sigh crawling up out of his throat. When he strokes himself, the sound is loud in the small space, and it’s too dry. He lets out a frustrated noise and brings his palm up to his mouth, spitting once, then again. Dragging his hand down his shaft the second time feels better, and his toes curl in his sneakers as he starts to fist himself again.

It’s been two weeks since she let him come, and she’s got him sneaking off to random places to jack off with no release at least every other day. Vinny keeps track, as if he could forget. He’s amazed at his own control, honestly. But he knows that if he breaks the rules, he doesn’t get his reward when he gets home. And he’s got dozens of images running through his mind of what that reward is going to be, because she never tells him, not until he’s fully earned it. He strokes himself faster, curling over himself.

The bathroom door opens and Vinny goes still. His heart is thudding in his chest and he brings a hand up over his mouth, but he doesn’t stop.

“You get lost, Vin?” Justin’s voice bounces off the walls.

Vinny thunks his head against the door, and then realizes how loud that is. When he looks down, he sees his still hard. “Uh yeah, I’ll be out in—a few minutes?”

As if on cue, his phone chimes with another message, and he takes his hand off his dick like he’s been caught. Justin’s laughing on the other side of the door.

“Oh. It’s like that then.”

“Fuck off, respectfully.”

He hears Justin leave, and he peers through the crack in the door just to be sure the bathroom is empty again. Instead of going back to what he was doing, he picks up his phone to check the notification.

Your time is up. Where’s my proof you’re still hard?

Vinny doesn’t think there’s any tasteful way to take a dick pic in this diner bathroom in the middle of Texas, but he does his best. She only wants to see that he’s still hard anyway, and that much is blatantly obvious no matter what the picture looks like. He sends it along, and waits for his cock to soften enough for him to be able to fix his clothes.

She sends back a heart emoji in response, a sign that he did exactly what she wanted him to do.

Find Chris. He knows what I want from you.

They’ve never dragged the others into this, but there’s a first time for everything. He knows what to say if he wants to opt out of any task, he hasn’t needed to yet. And he knows she’s just playing on the fact that Vinny has always thought Chris was pretty. It’s a solid choice. He doesn’t even know what she wants Chris to do to him yet, but he’s already feeling anticipation curling in his gut as he wanders down the bus galley towards the back lounge.

Chris is sitting on one of the couches, and Vinny barely steps inside before he stops him. “Close the door.”

Whatever’s going to happen warrants a closed door. He pushes it shut and waits, trying to wrack his brain for what this could be. He knows his rules, but he also knows there’s so much that can be done without breaking those rules.

“Come over here,” Chris pats his knee. “Come sit on daddy’s lap.”

Vinny narrows his eyes at him, not moving right away. “She ratted me out.”

“Oh, big time. Come on, don’t make me tell you twice, Vin.”

He leans back into the sofa and Vinny shuffles over. Instead of sitting on his knee, he just straddles him because if they’re gonna do this, they’re gonna do it his way. At least some of it. Chris watches him with an amused expression, not saying anything at first. It’s starting to make Vinny nervous.

“I’m not allowed to, like, come or anything, you know that right?”

“Yep, she told me.” Chris reaches up and winds locks of Vinny’s hair around his finger, letting the curl bounce once he lets it go. “She just wants to see you marked up a little, and you can’t do that to yourself, can you?”

“I mean, there was that one time with the vacuum hose when I was a kid.”

Chris gives him an amused look, “I won’t ask what else you did with the vacuum hose.”

Vinny feels himself blushing under his gaze. He squirms a little on his lap, and Chris grabs onto his hips. He’s getting hard beneath him, and Vinny’s mouth falls open a little.

“So what’s the plan here? I let you play vampire on my neck and you send her pictures?”

“Basically, yeah. But you gotta walk around the rest of the tour with them. Everyone’s gonna see them.”

So that’s what it’s about. Not only getting to see visual proof of him being all marked up, but everyone else seeing it too. He’ll be wearing those marks back home. The thought of it makes him a little giddy. Reaching back, he tugs off his hoodie and t-shirt, tossing them both aside. He figures easy access is the best option. 

Chris wraps a hand around the back of Vinny’s neck, rising up to meet his mouth. Vinny, predictably, whines into the kiss. It’s been weeks since anyone else has touched him. He fists his hands in the front of Chris’ shirt and tries to get him closer, as if that were possible. Chris laughs, nipping at Vinny’s bottom lip.

“She said you’d be eager for it.”

“You’re the one who agreed to it.”

Chris gives his hair a yank, tugging his head back to expose his throat. “Are you kidding? Of course I did. Just be lucky, if not me, she was gonna ask Ryan. And he’s mean.”

That’s not a visual that Vinny needs in his head right now. Instead he’s got Chris mouthing at his throat, scraping the edge of his jaw with his teeth. Vinny uses it to his advantage, rutting shamelessly against him, and this time he doesn’t try to stop him. When Chris finally digs his teeth into his neck, his grip tightens on Vinny’s hair and his other hand presses into his lower back. Vinny gasps and whimpers, and breathes through the feeling.

Chris switches sides and bites him again, sinking his teeth in a little harder this time. Over and over until Vinny’s neck starts to feel like it’s on fire. He keeps his hands on Chris’ chest as he grinds down on him, and finally Chris yanks him down and holds him there, a stifled whine escaping him. Vinny’s so hard in his shorts he’s sure he’s going to lose it without the permission to do so. But Chris removes his teeth from his throat and gives Vinny a gentle shove off of his lap.

“Fucking vampire,” he mutters, reaching up and hissing when he touches his neck. “It feels like one big bruise.”

Chris takes his chin, turning his head this way and that. “It’s gonna look like one too. Lucky you paint your neck for shows, huh?”

Vinny sighs and lets his head fall back on the couch, once again willing his hard on away. Out of the corner of his eye, he sees Chris watching him with an amused smile, and he flaps a hand at him. “Don’t you need to go change your pants or something? Come back and take the picture later.”

“You were really good for me, don’t start being a brat now.”

He pats Vinny on the top of his head and leaves the lounge. Vinny prods at his neck again, pressing his fingers into the marks. An involuntary moan slips out, and he pulls his hand away quickly, shoving them both beneath his thighs. By the time Chris finally takes the pictures for Vinny to send, his neck throbs and he knows it’s going to look ten times worse the next day. He’ll send her a picture of that too.

His nerves are frayed by the time the tour ends and he can finally go home. Once he’s inside his apartment, he literally drops his luggage in the foyer and leaves a trail of clothes on the way to the bathroom so he can take a long, hot shower. He doesn’t even care if the sheets are clean or not when he falls into bed after, only drying off haphazardly. But he doesn’t have to set an alarm, he doesn't have to get up and be anywhere. It doesn’t even matter that it’s the middle of the day, he’s gonna sprawl out in his bed and sleep.

When he wakes up an indeterminate time later, it takes Vinny a few minutes to realize he isn’t alone in the bed. But he feels the warmth of a body pressed into his, and fingers carding through his hair. Rolling over feels like a struggle, but he does. Ophelia’s next to him, right where he thought she’d be, and she gives him a soft smile.

“Sorry,” he says. “I should have texted when I got home—”

“It’s fine. I knew you’d crash out when you got here.”

He hums in agreement, snuggling into her. Ophelia lets out a breathless little laugh, petting her fingers into his hair and pulling it a little. Vinny gasps, she hasn’t even really touched him yet and he’s already getting hard. He hopes she’s going to give him whatever reward he earned throughout the tour, but at this point, he’s just happy that she’s here.

Giving him a coy look, she reaches down beneath the blankets, wriggling around a bit until she drops her shorts and underwear over the side of the bed.

“Can I eat you out?” he blurts out, unable to help it.

“No,” she shakes her head. Disappointment courses through him, it’s all he really wants right now. “Don’t pout at me, Vin. Here.”

Ophelia grabs his hand and guides it between her thighs. She doesn’t let go, instead keeping a hold of his wrist as he eases two fingers into her. She’s not as wet as she could be, and he goes slow. Listens as she lets out a soft sigh and moves his hand how she wants it. When she slides a finger inside in between his, he’s the one who gasps.

“Did you miss this?” she asks.

“Yes, yeah.”

She grabs onto his face with her free hand, squeezing his cheeks between her fingers. The pinch is familiar, and very welcomed. He knows he’s leaking against her thigh, just like she’s getting wetter as he drags his fingers in and out of her. “Yes what?”

“Yes, mommy.” 

His words come out garbled, but she still nods in approval. Ophelia lets go of his wrist, bringing her hand up and rubbing her fingers over his pinched mouth. He resists the urge to lick his lips. “Don’t start forgetting things when you’re about to get your reward, honey. You were so good for me while you were away. You want your reward, don’t you?”

“Yes, mommy.” he says, more coherently this time. 

She releases his face, only to press her fingers into the marks on his throat. The bruises are still dark, yellowing around the edges. She doesn’t even have to tell him what he should be doing, as he twists his fingers inside of her faster and rubs frenzied circles over her clit with his thumb. Ophelia fists a hand in his hair and drags his mouth down to hers, panting into the kiss as she rocks up against his hand. Impatiently, she manages to get out of the rest of her clothes.

He doesn’t ask her for anything more than she’s willing to give him, and when Ophelia’s thighs clamp down on his hand and she clenches around his fingers, he thinks that’s it, that’s all he’ll get for now. It wouldn’t be the first time. Vinny grows bold, free hand cupping one of her breasts. Before she can stop him, he dips his head down to pull one of her nipples between his teeth. He bites down, just a little.

“Ah, no,” the slap to his cheek is a surprise, and he jerks his head back with a whine. “Don’t get greedy.”

“Sorry, mommy,” he murmurs, trying to look innocent even though he knows she doesn’t buy it for a second. He ruts against her thigh, unable to help himself. “Am I allowed to come?”

“Not yet. Come here, up here.”

Vinny shuffles up on his knees, pushing the covers away as Ophelia draped her thighs over his. She reaches down between them, wrapping her fingers around his cock and guiding it inside of her. He grits his teeth, grabbing on her hips in a grip that is probably too hard, but she doesn’t chastise him for it.

“Go slow.” she instructs, and Vinny bites down on his tongue.

But he does what he’s told, pulling almost all the way back out and then he uses his hold on her hips to yank her back onto his cock, slowly. She lets out an approving moan, head rolling back into the pillows as he moves inside of her. He’s spent weeks torturing himself for this, to get to feel her clenching down on him, the way she’s looking up at him from beneath her lashes as she curls her hands around his wrists for leverage.

“Does that feel good?”

“Yeah,” she gasps out, knees digging into his ribs as she rises up to meet each thrust. “Come closer, come closer to me, Vin.”

He wraps his hands beneath her shoulders and pulls her up until she’s straddling his lap. She lets out a breathless laugh, wrapping her arms around him. She moves greedily, setting the pace herself now, faster but still not enough. Vinny is going to lose his mind. Instead he digs his fingers into her ass and holds on.

“Like this?” he asks, leaning in to mouth at the sweaty line of her throat.

She nods rapidly, “Yeah, like this, Vin.”

“Just want you to feel good, mommy,” he murmurs, and she pulls back enough to press her forehead into his. “Maybe you’d feel better moving a little more?”

“Are you trying to get me to fuck you harder? You think you deserve that?”

“Oph—”

She smacks him again, and he apologizes quickly, burying his face between her breasts and clinging to her. Her hands fist in his hair and she does move faster, grinding down on him harder. Somehow, she makes it feel like a punishment. He can’t breathe, can’t think. He feels like he’s going to die and he’d happily accept it right now if that meant he got to come finally.

“Wait wait wait,” he gasps out, “I’m close.”

“Not inside me, don’t you dare,” she hisses out and he blinks up at her to see that she’s smiling at him.

“Where—”

“What did I tell you before you left for tour, if you did everything I asked of you?”

He tries to remember, but it’s a little hard to do so—every pun intended—while he’s right on the edge and she’s holding him inside of her the way that she is. She said a lot of things to him before the tour, gave him a list of things she’d be tasking him with over the course of the weeks he was gone. Before he can ask her to tell him, she’s lifting herself off of him, laying back on the mattress and crooking a finger at him.

And then it clicks in his brain. He crawls over her, up until he’s straddling her torso. She doesn’t let him do it himself, instead, wrapping a delicate fist around his cock and dragging it up slowly. Ophelia keeps up the teasing, moving so slowly that he’s contemplating begging. She digs her thumb into the slit and he cries out, nearly folding over her and just barely managing to keep himself up on his knees above her.

“You know what I want, Vin, don’t you?”

“Yes, mommy, yeah. I will, I promise, I just…” he trails off, cursing as his hips twitch with each stroke of her hand. He digs his fingers into his own thighs, squeezing his eyes shut. “Please!”

“You can come whenever you want, honey, I’m not stopping you.”

It’s all the permission he needs to spill across her hand and her breasts. It feels like it goes on forever, until he’s left shaking above her while she strokes him through the aftershocks, until he’s got to gently pull her hand away. When he looks down at her, she’s tracing her fingers through the mess on her skin, and he groans, slumping down on the bed beside her.

“Hey!” Ophelia reaches over and smacks his hip. “This isn’t gonna clean itself up, you know?”

Vinny doesn’t think about it, he just rolls over and drags his tongue over her breasts. He hears her gasp of surprise above him, and smiles against her skin.

“I meant a bath, or a towel.”

“Sorry…mommy,” he laughs and she rolls her eyes at him, pulling him up for a kiss.

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[xreaderbooks]

All I breathe (2)

Pair: Azriel x Vanserra Reader

Word Count: 4k

Warnings: language, violence, mentions of abuse, trauma, and torture

Summary: Could a mission to Y/n’s childhood home, the Autumn Court, spark a friendship between the night courts spymaster and the newest emissary? Or will they let their hatred come between, what could be, a strong bond?

A/N: I made Nuan from ACOWAR heavily OC in this, I haven't read the books in so long so please forgive any reference mistakes. I haven't read ACOSF either so keep that in mind, I did try to do my research for storyline purposes when it comes to the first 4 books. I also do not know how to describe dresses very well lol. Send me a message or comment if you want to be tagged in future parts.

Also available on Wattpad and AO3

Masterlist - Previous Chapter - Next Chapter

An Illyrian bastard! you could not stand him. He was a contemptuous brute as you knew most Illyrians were. Cassian and Rhysand were just fine, if only he turned out more like his brothers. Although the comment the former had made had you reeling. In no world do you see yourself sharing a bed with the Shadowsinger. What was worse was knowing the days to come were going to be filled with hours of what had just occurred. In the safety of your room, you had released the flames that begged for freedom, letting them kindle on your hands, careful not to get too close to the furniture.

The power you and your twin had shared assuming it had come from your mother's distant bloodline. Your mother was another factor that you had thought of constantly during your stay at this new court. While you dealt with your own struggles mentally, you and Lucien had a better life here in Velaris, you were free from all the males who once dominated your life. You couldn’t say the same for your poor mother. She was the one person you looked forward to seeing.

“He’s not right you know?” A smooth casual familiar voice echoed from behind you. Your power jolted, letting out a blast of controlled flames in your hands.

“I could have burned you, you idiot!” You shoved your brother away from you once you recovered from the shock.

“No, you really couldn’t have.” He chuckled. There Lucien stood a few feet behind you, he just left yesterday morning, there was no reason for him to be back so early.

“What are you doing here anyway?” You crossed your arms and shuffled closer to your bed, sitting on the edge.

“I heard Rhysand gave you a tough assignment, with an even tougher partner.”

“Do not call him my partner and he’s weaker than any of you give him credit for,” You snarked back.

Lucien put his hands up in surrender, “Relax I’m just here to ease the tension.”

“Like you ever,” You glared at him playfully.

“He has a way of making you tense so easily, Sister.” Lucien sits beside you on the edge of the end of your bed. “Despite your hatred for him, you need to place your trust in him fully while you’re there.”

“Why can’t you come with me?” You put on your best puppy dog-like pleading eyes, Lucien stopped falling for it once you both came to an age where life was not so easily bought by a sweet smile or those perfect doe eyes you were able to mimic.

“I would if I could, I have business elsewhere” He ruffled your hair pushing your head away lightly when you scowled at him. “Important business in the mortal realms of all places.”

“Oh please, you can feign annoyance all you want but you’ve found an interest there.”

“I don’t have much keeping me here anyway Y/n, better to keep busy.” A sad disposition had formed within him whenever he was near Elain, he couldn’t do more than he was already doing to make Elain comfortable around him.

The words stung, and suddenly the statement Azriel made didn’t seem so far off the truth. You knew you could make yourself useful enough to be of value but what did any of that mean when your own twin couldn’t find your company worthy. Obviously, he did have places to go and people to meet but you did too and if he ever needed you, you would drop everything to be there for him. The scar on your left cheek was a testament to that.

You sat there side-by-side for a couple of minutes, enjoying each other's company in silence. Lucien tapped your knee twice before declaring he walk you out before your journey. He wrapped a loose arm around your shoulders, “I will be here when you get back.” He squeezed you into his side.

Reaching the last step Azriel was there waiting for you, he gave Lucien a nod before looking away to give you and your brother privacy. You squeezed his middle, “You better.”

He gave you a kiss on your forehead, “Stay safe, sister.”

“Goodbye brother,” You whispered back to him before he disappeared into thin air. Cassian came out of the kitchen and nodded for you to come to him.

Once in the kitchen Cassian peeked out of the door and spoke in a hushed tone, “Listen, I know it’s gonna be hard but the only way this plan will work is if you both find a way to set aside your differences and learn how to communicate.”

You sighed, running a hand through your hair giving him an exasperated look, you thought he was going to give you some advice or something more useful than a lecture. “Unlike him, I believe I can be civilized. Besides we’re about to have plenty of bonding time.”

You caught him wince at the word bonding, “Let’s hope so.”

“Was that it?” You asked. Cassian hummed in response and with a finger flicked your head up by your chin.

“Remember Y/n, don’t hesitate. Hesitate and you're dead.” The same advice he gave you throughout training, a feat you had consistent trouble with; hesitation. You were decent, despite being out of shape with the lack of training and with what little you knew of combat. Illyrian training was different than what you were used to but it was better and you learned enough to be of use if you were needed. Maybe a little clumsy and lacked some confidence in your skills but in a life-or-death situation you expected your survival instincts would kick in.

He guided you to where Azriel was sitting on the couch, fiddling with his knife.

~~~

Winnowing to the dawn court went smoothly. You and Azriel winnowed separately, neither of you willing to touch each other, opting to travel alone rather than conserve energy to save time. The first big jump had you stopping for a break at the Day Court, you felt your power falter, the surge of fire from earlier draining you a little. The law of your power, where one of your powers is strong the others weaken.

You stopped by a lake for water, careful of your surroundings. A quick minute stop and when you had winnowed away to the point on the other side of the border where you knew to meet Azriel, he had given you an earful.

“Where were you?” His tone was nothing short of accusatory.

“I felt like I needed a short break so I stopped for some water,” You spoke casually so as not to alarm the always-on-edge spymaster. It took a toll on your patience but you needed him to be calm.

His eyes were narrow as he stared you down, “Where?”

“Near Day Court border Azriel, Where else?”

“Specifically where did you stop for water?” He pushed, “Shocking there were no sentries nearby.”

“I assure you whatever your mind conjured up about my whereabouts, is not true.”

“I just find it curious how you were not intercepted,” He crossed his arms and tilted his head “unless there is something that you’re not telling me.”

You were beginning to feel anxious by his interrogation, you didn’t have anything to hide but this felt familiar in the ways your brothers would question you after a night out or worse when you were on your little missions for them. Tamlin would do the same, jealous even though you knew he never truly loved you. Even when he had Feyre.

“I told you all there is to know,” You grit your teeth. “We’re wasting time on this useless topic when we would have been at Dawn already.”

“I don’t trust you.” He begins to walk in the direction of the border of the Dawn Court.

“Oh really?” Your voice is frivolous as you follow him, “I hadn’t gathered that. I can feel your shadows, they are not as obscure as you think they are. Even so, I have nothing to prove to you Shadowsinger.”

His jaw clenches, “You somehow have fooled everyone in my court that you are innocent but I will find a way to break you Firewielder.”

“And you will fail,” You stop walking when you step in front of him, blocking his way. “You think of me as some villain Azriel when I am just someone who is trying to get by in whatever way, whatever place I can. That is all I have been trying to do, all I have ever done. Gods, if your High Lady could forgive me, why can’t you?”

“You have caused my High Lady enough harm,” He says simply and starts to walk again but you block his path. “You do not deserve the forgiveness, Rhysand and Feyre have so graciously granted you.”

“I have paid for my sins just as I’m sure you have and will continue to do so, I do not need a constant reminder of my fuckups any more than you do.” Your words were like venom, you may not know all of what the Shadowsinger was made of but the whispers throughout the world of what he does to people, rumor or no- you knew would haunt him til the end of his days. “You are no better than I am Spymaster, you should do well to remember that next time you sink that knife into someone’s flesh.”

An astonished look featured on his chiseled face, you’d wager no one but his brothers dared to speak to him in such a way. You weren’t one to speak so flippantly, but Azriel brought out a side of you that you had to admit you reveled in. You hadn’t felt as strong as when you let all your anger out on him. Your brothers, your father, and Tamlin had made you cower into yourself so much so that you didn’t dare argue. Azriel lit a fire within you that fueled you to shed the weaker parts of your soul and fight back.

~~~

You were within the walls of the Dawn Court castle only minutes after your discussion with Azriel. Not a word was spoken after you said your peace, you stood next to each other with a generous amount of space between you as you waited for someone to attend to you at the front steps of the palace.

A friendly face appeared from behind the doors urging you both to come inside, the healer of the Dawn Court was a long-time friend of yours. You hadn’t seen or spoken to her in years yet her countenance was still the same. She hugged you in greeting and gave the Shadowsinger a nod.

“The High Lord is otherwise engaged unfortunately but he sends his regards and me of course,” Nuan clutched your arm that was already looped around hers. “I’ll be showing you to your rooms.”

“Thank you,” You smiled. Azriel repeated what you had said and followed close behind you. She guides you through a series of hallways with large pillars framing the view of the mountains.

“It’s not a problem, though I do ask that you join me for dinner tonight.” She pauses in front of a door, she’s still holding your arm so you assume this is Azriels room. “Both of you, it’ll be at that restaurant in town that we used to go to Y/n, you know the one.”

You nodded with pursed lips, “Yes, I do but I’m sure Azriel has other ideas on how he’d like to spend his night.” You tried to hint at her to leave him alone, you needed a break from him and his attitude.

“I’ll be there.” Was all Azriel said before bowing his head at her and closing himself in his room for the night.

Nuan raised her brows at you with a slightly agape mouth, dragging you through the long corridor lined with near-opalescent golden stone pillars. Once she had shown you your room a couple of doors down from Azriels, she shut the door behind her. “I had to give you this room so that I can talk to you without him hearing, Cauldron that male is astonishingly gorgeous.”

You snorted, “For a bat.”

She placed her hands on her hips, “Now I know damn well you have taste, Y/n and I know that you wholeheartedly agree with me.”

“I might have once upon a time, I’ve changed.” You smirked and strolled around the room, taking it all in. Your room had a balcony overlooking one of the many gardens, you would have chosen to stay at the Dawn Court if given the opportunity.

“Surely not because of the husband!” Nuan gasped. She reminded you of the one you were fake married to, Fae cannot lie but when one is desperate, the loopholes you find are wild.

You raised an eyebrow at her dramatics, “No, of course not.”

She walked toward you and reached out with her mechanical hand tracing the scar on your face, “Do you think he is that superficial? I have seen the scars on his hands Y/n, he is beautiful but not completely unmarred.”

“I forget how forward you are Nu,” You stepped out of her reach. “Have you heard the news of the faebane? It’s traveling all across the lands, the reason why we’re here.”

She nodded grimly, “Yes, I have heard but my information is limited. And you’re deflecting but that’s no matter, we shall continue that topic at dinner.”

“For an alchemist, you sure do like to gossip.” You teased, “You should seek out Azriel before dinner to discuss the faebane situation.”

“Why do you think I’m friends with an emissary? you make the most pleasant company for gossip.” She reached for the door handle and slipped out of the room.

~~~

You forgot how free-flowing Dawn Court fashion is, as you dressed you felt yourself grow self-conscious. The dress exposed your thighs, arms, and stomach with shibari-like knots around the torso and neck with layered sheer nude material covering. A huge difference from what you were wearing before. You reminded yourself of the fact that the fae of the Dawn Court were not judgmental people and they made dresses like this for all shapes and sizes and they saw every being as radiant. They were peaceful and kind and as you walked into the restaurant, you and Nuan had found one night, Azriel was sitting there in conversation with the dark-haired beauty.

Her dress was similar to yours, and her upturned eyes and olive-toned skin were complimented by the lavender color she was wearing. Azriel was talking intently, the loud chattering of everyone around you clouded your ability to hear what he was saying. Nuan was right, he was gorgeous. Beautiful in a way you could not compare to a male or female, he was otherwordly.

You scolded yourself mentally, as beautiful as he may be, his personality was not. His calculated, smooth-toned, encapsulating speech- your mind wandered again. You could not catch a break from him. Mentally or physically and you were sick of it. With a huff, you lifted the hem of your dress so that it would not catch onto your heel and strutted over to the table where Azriel was out of his chair and holding it out for you to take his place.

In the time you took to admire him from the entrance, you failed to see that they were sitting at a table for two. There was room for two more but you’d have to steal a chair from another table and he had given his chair to you. Your eyes flickered from the chair to him and hesitantly took a seat, he tucked you into the table, and you didn’t miss the way Nuan’s lips turned up on one side.

He pulled up a chair and sat. A Cheshire grin spread upon Nuan’s face, immediately nerves took over you.

“Now that we’re done exchanging information,” She nodded once to Azriel and directed her attention to you. “Y/n about that husband, how is he?”

Your jaw ticked, “I wouldn’t know, I don’t speak to him.”

She hummed, “Interesting. And your brother is he well?”

“Yes, he is, though I suspect you know that considering he visits you often.”

Her laugh came out in a bark, Azriel's eyes and shadows watched you two in a dance, silently observing your postures and hidden messages. He wouldn’t understand the game you and Nuan played, especially not the one Nuan was playing right now, you were beginning to lose track of yourself.

“So Tamlin is completely out of the picture now?” She went back to her original target. You coughed a little bit of the water you sipped a second before she asked. “No, Nuan.” You cursed. “I live in the night court now, everything's changed.”

“Just curious, Y/n/n-” She said lightheartedly. “Do you live there with him?” She glanced at the male sitting next to you. So this is what she wanted to know.

Azriels eyes widened, “Absolutely not!” You both exclaimed at the same time, creating looks coming from nearby tables.

“Apologies, really I thought you two were together, possibly in secret. I got a sense that you both were involved, please forgive me.” Nuan’s cheeks reddened as she stammered her apology.

You were entirely upset knowing that she was embarrassed by her display. You switch the topic as smoothly as you could, asking about how the faebane works and if there was any way she could create an antidote without knowing the exact ingredients in the newer version. She answered each question with ease, Azriel asked a few of his own and finished up the conversation they were having earlier about the theories on who could have made it. At that time your dinner was cleared, and the three of you lingered to pay for your meal.

“Excuse me, I believe I see a patient of mine who isn’t doing what he’s supposed to-” Nuan rushed out of her seat to an older-looking male.

You caught Azriels stare when you turned back into your chair. He looked pensive as he opened his mouth to speak, “How did you and Nuan…”

“Meet? Under the mountain.” You responded though you weren’t so sure why considering you still wanted to be petty for his interrogation. “She healed and made Lucien's eye, also helped me heal when I got the scar.”

A few moments of silence.

“I’d like to-” He cleared his throat “I’d like to apologize for earlier.”

Your eyes search his in suspicion, he continues. “I should have believed you. My shadows told me that you were speaking the truth and I didn’t believe you.”

“I have had enough overbearing males in my life dictating my life and questioning my every move without you being added to the list.”

“I’m trying Y/n,” He sighed clenching the table napkin.

“By telling me that your shadows tried to plead my case and even then you wouldn’t believe me?”

“When you put it that way.” He breathed out a laugh, the closest one you’ve ever heard from him that was meant for your ears. It was a small gesture, one that did not go unnoticed by you. Around you, he was always so tense.

“What is it then?” You inquire, “Do you hate me or could we call a truce?”

“As if you could hold your tongue for long enough for me not to hate you.”

You allowed yourself a small smile, “You are truly unrelenting, if this is how you are with me I wonder how are with the people you bring to your chamber.”

“You talk of my work with so much ease,” He grimaced. “You wouldn’t be able to actually stomach it.”

The humor that hung in the air was gone, you sensed a challenge. “I can’t do what you do but I am not afraid of you Shadowsinger.”

His hazel eyes beheld yours, exploring them, you weren’t sure what he was searching for but the intensity with which he stared unnerved you. “If you weren’t the sister of the male I despise the most and if you weren’t once married to the one who caused my lady so much grief, I could be inclined to like you.” His smooth low toned voice was hypnotic.

You reached for your glass of wine, the energy too much for you to take sober taking a sip before replying “If you weren’t such an insufferable bastard, I could be inclined to say the same.”

“I still don’t trust you,” Azriel said slyly.

You rolled your eyes, “Do you have mind healers in Velaris? Cause you desperately need one, you all do.”

That brought out a deep laugh from him, you looked at him in awe at the melody that came from his mouth and it was as if you were seeing him for the first time. Your stare fixed upon his smile, bright and angelic made your heart jump. He was suddenly aware of you and the wall he had when he was around you built up again.

Your mind felt the need to know if what he said earlier was true, “Is that really why you hate me?”

“You can’t just let a moment be, can you Firewielder?” He no longer carried that sharp grin that had you melting for a second.

“I am not my brother, Eris I mean, what he’s done. I have no part in it.”

He nodded slowly, “Now tell me why you hate me.”

You picked at your cuticle as you spoke- a nervous human habit that you picked up throughout your years. “I don’t. I don’t particularly like you but you have done nothing but make my life miserable since the moment you rescued us from the ice and every moment after that.”

You were being chased by your brothers along with Feyre and Lucien when Cassian and Azriel had come to Feyre's aid. That was when you had found out that Feyre was the High Lady of the Night Court when you and Lucien had been brought to Velaris and saw the city you’ve grown to love. It was the start of everything. Before and after the war.

You and Lucien were appointed as emissaries to the night court, Lucien had his assignments and you had yours. You served as both emissary and spy (occasionally), while Lucien had to send bi-weekly reports to Azriel, you had to report to him for every single assignment unless specified otherwise by the High Lord. This is the cause of the clash you had with the Spymaster.

That day was the only day you had peace from him, if only because nobody in the inner circle had warmed to your presence yet.

“My whole life I’ve heard of the monstrous fae who served the Night Court, the Court of Nightmares was real to me but I was never afraid of the stories- of you. All you did was prove that the stories were true, like the act you all put on when you go there, is real.”

“You should know that I do not find it easy to be around you Y/n.” You were about to ask him what he meant when Nuan’s figure came into view, pulling a lesser fae male along with her.

“Y/n I’d like you to meet Damian- Damian this is the friend I told you about.” Nuan shoved him your way as you stood, you stumbled into him and he steadied you by your elbows. “I took care of the bill by the way, I told Damian he should walk you to the palace. Azriel and I still have loads to discuss.”

You smiled shyly at the blond-haired guy in front of you and turned your head to where Azriel was once sitting, you were about to protest but Nuan was already dragging Azriel out the door. You appreciated your friend's efforts to set you up with the attractive male that was nothing short of a gentleman as he made easy conversation during the walk to the palace, but after dinner with Azriel, this guy wasn’t going to cut it. It would be too easy for you to bring him up to your room and spend the night with him but you were on a job and you were not going to give Azriel another to scold you. 

~~~

Next Chapter

Taglist: @americancowgirl19 - @feyres-fireheart - @brekkershadowsinger - @marina468

[jj-nhlgirly]

Summer of Love One shot:- Always by your side

Jack Hughes X F!OC

An:- Heyyy it’s been a hot minute since I uploaded huh. 🤔 Well here’s a lil something as I get back into the swing of things. Inbox still open for one shots. As always people on the phone will be in bold!!

TW:- Mentions of being high, Injuries but nothing graphic, I don’t believe there’s any swearing in this one which is surprising for me Ik 🤣

(Not my Gif, Credits to who made it)

It was the morning of the first devils game of the season and Mackenzie was buzzing with excitement, she always loved watching Jack play, he always came alive on the ice, it brought out a fire in him that Mackenzie rarely saw outside the rink. She swayed her hips happily in a beat as she walked into the kitchen, “Good morning gorgeous” she greeted Kaylee leaning down to kiss her cheek. “Well good morning my pocket full of sunshine, what made you so happy this morning?” Kaylee smiled up at her. “It’s the devils first game of the season!” Mackenzie smiled as she opened the refrigerator, grabbing a yoghurt pot.

“Oh yeah! Did Jack leave you a ticket? I’m gonna buy one when we get there” Kaylee asked as she ate at the island. “mhm he texted them through last night, he’s already got you a ticket though” Mackenzie laughed, “Again?! I told him I could buy my own, lemme venmo him the money” Kaylee pulled out her phone, “he’s just gonna venmo it back Kay, you know how he is” Mackenzie sighed before laughing. “Damn boy is too kind for his own good, now where are we sitting? I need to know how much to send” Kaylee looked up expectantly at Mackenzie.

The blonde waved her spoon, “Next to the devils bench” she laughed looking at her best friend's expression. “But they’re like $300 each!” Kaylee exclaimed as she pulled up Jack's contact, “what are you doing now?” Mackenzie laughed, “I’m giving him a piece of my mind” Kaylee huffed, “good luck, he’s at morning skate right now” Mackenzie informed the brunette before eating her yoghurt. Kaylee shrugged and tried to call anyway, as Mackenzie predicted it went straight to voicemail.

“Jackson Rowden Hughes you better call me as soon as you get this, you’re in big trouble Mister!” Kaylee shouted through the phone before hanging up, “you do realise that’s not his name” Mackenzie laughed, “oh I know but shouting Jack just doesn’t have the same effect.” Kaylee laughed before heading to the bathroom, “want me to join you hot stuff?” Mackenzie wiggled her eyebrows.

“I’d love for you to join me but i doubt your boyfriend would appreciate that” Kaylee laughed before closing the door, “what he doesn’t know won’t hurt him but you could've let me watch” Mackenzie shouted back teasingly before hearing Kaylee cackle, “maybe next time sweet cheeks”

Mackenzie shook her head as she threw her empty pot away before heading for her room, she looked through her dresser picking out an outfit for tonight. “Kay?” she shouted, “yeah?” Kaylee shouted back slightly muffled. “What are you wearing tonight?” Kenzie asked as she walked into Kaylee’s room. “Oooo I don’t know yet, probably black jeans and a jersey?” Kenzie heard the muffled reply. Mackenzie put some music on as she went through options.

It had been about 45 minutes since Kenzie had started planning outfits, she’d moved into the living room to attend a lecture as Kaylee was in her room attending the same lecture and editing an assignment.

Kaylee’s phone rang from the kitchen, Mackenzie got up from her spot in the hanging chair to check who was calling, when she saw it was Jack calling, she walked into Kaylee’s room passing her the phone. “It’s Jack.” Mackenzie whispered before leaving, “woah woah woah, you can stay missy, you’ll wanna be here” Kaylee laughed as she accepted the call, putting it on speaker.

“Hey Kaylee” Jack spoke first, “JACK ROWDEN HUGHES” Kaylee screeched as Mackenzie winced. Jack sighed, “yes Kaylee, whatever your middle name is Johnson?” “it’s Blair for future reference” Mackenzie spoke up. Kaylee turned to glare at her, “whose side are you on here?” she asked, quirking her eyebrow. “I’m in no man’s land babe” Mackenzie defended as she lifted Kaylee’s drink to her lips, “just that if you know his full name, shouldn’t he know yours?” she added before drinking.

Kaylee huffed, “fine, anyways. why are you buying me tickets Jacky boy, you tryna sugar daddy me?” Mackenzie spat her drink out as Jack laughed, “you know what Kaylee, I’ve known you for 2 years now and yet you still surprise me with the things you say” Jack shot back, “what can i say, I’m gifted” Kaylee flipped her hair, “but seriously Jack, how much do I owe you for the ticket?” Kaylee asked, “Just call it an early birthday present” he answered. “… my birthdays in June, it’s October” Kaylee deadpanned, “ok, early christmas present then” Jack laughed before hanging up.

“Your boyfriend is impossible” Kaylee huffed, “you’re both impossible, he just wants you to like him” Mackenzie laughed. “I already do! I love that boy to death, he’s my brother from another mother, my homie” Kaylee made a peace sign. “all peace and love over here” Mackenzie sighed, “why am i friends with you?” “JUST FRIENDS HAVE I BEEN DEMOTED?! this is the worst day of my life” Kaylee flopped dramatically on her bed. “Babes you know I love you but you are so dramatic” Mackenzie spoke before leaving to continue her lecture. “I love you more sugar tits!” Kaylee shouted down the hall.

It was dark as Mackenzie finished her work, she sighed putting her arms up and stretching her back before checking the time, Kaylee had gone out to grab them some food before the game and still wasn’t back, Mackenzie packed her things away before heading for the shower. “Kenny-bear?” Kaylee called as she closed the front door, “in the shower” Mackenzie replied as she washed her hair. “I got you nuggets, there wasn’t really anything else that looked good today” Kaylee called as she walked down the hallway, “Okay thank you, i’ll be out soon” Mackenzie finished up before leaving to sit in the living room, eating nuggets in a towel.

The girls chatted idly as they ate before going to their respective rooms to change, “are you ready to watch our boys win?” Kaylee asked. “hell yeah, let’s go. Are the boys meeting us there?” Kenzie asked as they took a quick mirror picture before walking out the door, “yeah Cody and Chase are, Jaden, Preston and Hunter are gonna meet us after detention.” Kaylee read the message. “Okay, sounds good, is Cody bringing the white claws?” Kenzie asked as they pressed for the elevator. “Yeah, he asked what we’re planning on doing afterwards” Kaylee asked as she walked in and pressed the ground level. “I’m not sure. Depends if Jack and the boys are up for anything afterwards. I’m not sure if they have anything going on early tomorrow” Mackenzie texted the group chat the same message.

The girls stood outside of their apartment building, waiting for confirmation that the boys had left so they could begin walking. A gust of wind swept across the pair as they chatted, predicting goals and who would score them, “fuck me it’s cold” Kaylee mumbled before jumping up and down trying to get warm, Mackenzie shrugged off her jacket and draped it across Kaylee’s shoulders, “Babe I think I’m a little to big for your jacket” Kaylee pouted, “It’s not my jacket, It’s Jacks” Mackenzie laughed.

“Of course it is” Kaylee sighed as she shrugged the jacket on, Mackenzie wrapped her scarf around her for warmth, she was already shivering but she hid it as best as she could, knowing Kaylee would throw a fit. Soon a car pulled into view along the main road, and Ellen was behind the wheel.

She drove past the girls before doing a double take and turning left, Mackenzie furrowed her eyebrows. “Why’s she turning left? The rink isn’t down that road” Mackenzie mumbled to herself, Ellen appeared in view again shortly after, slowly pulling up to the girls and rolling down the window, “Hey Sweeties, what are you doing out there? You’ll catch a cold, come on, in” Ellen nodded her head to the car, as Mackenzie and Kaylee walked towards it, Kaylee hopped into the back as Mackenzie rounded to the front. “Thank you so much Mrs Hughes” Kaylee thanked as she relaxed in the seat.

“Kaylee, honey I’ve told you before you can call me Ellen” Ellen laughed, as she began driving again. “Hey Mama Hen, I missed you” Mackenzie smiled at the older woman, “Hey Kenz, I’ve missed you too, how have you been? It’s been a while huh?” Ellen asked. “I’ve been good, how are you and Jim?” Mackenzie asked as she turned to look at Ellen, “I’ve been good, very busy though. We visited Quinn in Vancouver as I’m sure you know. I haven’t had much time to come and see Jack as much as I’ve wanted to” Ellen sighed as they approached a red light. “He understands, I can imagine it isn’t easy trying to split your time evenly. At least Jack and Luke will be in the same place soon, so it’ll make it a little easier splitting it two ways instead of three” Mackenzie reassured. “Plus with training and this one, Jack is always looked after! and I’m sure Luke will be too!” Kaylee laughed. “You make it sound like I’m overbearing” Mackenzie laughed looking at Ellen who lifted an eyebrow, “I promise I’m not!” Mackenzie defended as Ellen laughed “Oh I know you aren’t sweetie” Ellen reassured.

A short while later they were pulling up to the arena’s parking lot barriers for players and pass holders, Ellen rolled down the window as a security guard approached them, “Hi Ladies, Can I see your passes?” he asked.

“Kaylee, can you pass me my bag please?” Ellen asked the brunette, “of course Mrs Hughes… I mean Ellen” Kaylee passed the black bag through the gap between the two front seats. Mackenzie pulled her pass out of her pocket, “here Ellen” she gave her pass to Ellen who flashed them both at the security guard, he scanned them before his machine flashed red.

“Okay, this one is working fine” he passed back Ellen’s pass, “however this one isn’t flagging on my system, it appears it’s been taken off the players account” he handed Mackenzie’s pass back to Ellen, “I can’t let these two in without a working pass, I’m really sorry.” he apologised. Ellen went to protest, however Mackenzie shook her head, “It’s ok Ellen, we’ll walk around the front” Mackenzie reassured. “Mackenzie, you’ll get recognised… both of you will” Ellen worried, “I’ll keep her safe, we’ll meet you inside.” Kaylee reassured her as they climbed out.

“You call me if anything happens, both of you” Ellen warned, “Scouts honour” Kaylee saluted. “I’ll call Jim and let him know as well, in case you can’t get hold of me. He’s already inside” Ellen informed before moving off to park in the multi-storey.

The girls walked around the front, being greeted with a long line of awaiting fans and ticket holders, “Great” Kaylee sighed as they joined the back, “MACKENZIE, KAYLEE” a familiar voice shouted, gaining the attention of some people around, “trust Cody to make it obvious” Kaylee sighed as they walked over to them. Cody passed the girls a white claw each. “I thought we were meeting you inside?” Chase frowned. “You were but Mackenzie’s pass isn’t working so we can’t get in” Kaylee explained.

“Ohhh, well drink up, it’s gonna be a long wait” Chase said as he stared ahead. Kenzie sighed, pulling her phone out calling Jack, she doubted he’d answer but thought she’d try anyways. “Hi it’s Jack, sorry i can’t come to the phone right now, leave a message and i’ll get back to you” Jack's voicemail spoke out, Mackenzie sighed before hanging up. “Drink up Kenny-bear” Cody lifted his can to cheer hers, they linked arms and chugged their cans. An hour into their wait Mackenzie was convinced her lips were turning blue, she was still wrapped in her scarf without her jacket, she felt a tap on her shoulder from behind and turned to see two girls who were no older than 17. “Erm Hi I’m sorry to bother you but I was wondering if we could get a picture?” the red head asked shyly.

“Of course” Mackenzie reached her hand out for her phone assuming they wanted one of the two together. “Oh I meant one with you?” the shy girl smiled, “oh sorry, of course you can” Mackenzie smiled tapping Kaylee. “Can you take a picture for us?” Mackenzie asked her best friend. “Course babe” Kaylee smiled, holding the young girl's phone. After taking a few pictures together, the two girls thanked her. “So is it your first game?” Mackenzie asked, smiling kindly, “for me it is, she’s been to one before” the red head pointed to her friend. “Oh I'm so sorry! I forgot to ask for your names” Mackenzie apologised. “It’s ok, I’m Megan and this is Rachel” the red head responded.

“Well it’s lovely to meet you girls, What do you think the score will be?” Mackenzie asked, keeping the conversation going. “Hmm I think 4-0, Jacks definitely gonna score” Megan responded, “I think maybe 2-3” Rachel thought aloud. “Would you mind if I posted the picture on my story?” Rachel asked, “Of course!! You’re the first people to ask for a picture of just me” Mackenzie laughed.

The girls laughed, “normally I’m taking the pictures, people have recognised me before but never asked for pictures or anything” Mackenzie added. “Does it ever bother you? People always wanting pictures of Jack? Sorry if that’s too personal” Megan asked the blonde. “It’s a little personal but I don’t mind answering. At first it did bother me, every time we went anywhere he’d be constantly asked for pictures and I’d just stand there.

“Jack would always be constantly apologetic for it but he didn’t need to, it wasn’t his fault. Now I’m used to it, although when they ask for pictures as we’re getting out of the car or at dinner it is a little frustrating, there’s a time and a place for pictures you know?” Mackenzie replied, “yeah, I don’t know about you but the last thing I’d want is a camera shoved in my face when I’m eating my dinner” Megan laughed. “Absolutely.” Rachel added.

“Oh it seems we’re next, well again it was so lovely to meet you girls. Enjoy the game” Mackenzie hugged them both before turning to her friends. “Look at you, my little superstar!” Chase teased, smiling. “Oh please, It was one picture” Mackenzie giggled as they walked up to security checks. After getting through they walked up to scan their tickets, flashing green they started heading to their seats, grabbing some popcorn as they went. “I’m just gonna call Ellen to let her know we’re through.” Mackenzie informed the group as she stood to the side, she dialled Ellen’s number but it went to voicemail, so she called Jim’s number instead.

“Hello?” Jim’s faint voice could be heard amongst the loud background noise. “Hey Jim, It’s Kenzie” Mackenzie spoke sweetly, “Hi Sweetheart, is everything ok?” Jim asked as the background noise began fading. “Yeah, just letting you know that we got through okay” Mackenzie said, “Alright, I’ll let Ellen know.” Jim spoke softly.

“Oh Jim? I won’t be able to wait by the changing rooms after the game, my pass isn’t working. Could you let Jack know I’ll meet him out back by the parking lot door?” Mackenzie asked the oldest Hughes. “I’ll let him know” Jim assured. “Enjoy the game” Mackenzie smiled. “You too, bye!” Jim hung up, Mackenzie slid her phone into her back pocket before walking back over to her friends.

“Ready?” Cody asked, the girls nodded as they walked into the rink. Once settled in their seats they began chatting amongst themselves, however Mackenzie sat nervously chewing the skin around her thumb, tapping her foot on the concrete below her.

“You okay?” Kaylee whispered, leaning across to Mackenzie. Mackenzie was zoned out staring straight ahead. “Kenz?” Kaylee elbowed her gently, “mhm?” Mackenzie hummed. “Are you okay?” Kaylee questioned again, “Yeah, I’m good.” Mackenzie reassured. Kaylee furrowed her eyebrows but carried on chatting.

The game was soon in full swing, the Devils were up 3-2 by the middle of the third period, Nico had scored twice and Jack had scored with an assist. The middle Hughes boy had the puck and was making his way towards the Islanders goal, but the next few seconds seemed to move in slow motion, Jack had shot the puck into the goal moments before he was taken to the ice by a defenseman.

The defenseman got up fairly quickly, however Jack was still down. Mackenzie shot out of her seat, shouting cusses at the defender before mumbling under her breath “Jack, please be ok. Get up baby, get up.” Jack slowly got up to his hands and knees before slipping down again. Mackenzie watched, feeling helpless as the medical team arrived by his side. Nico looked up searching the stands searching for someone, as soon as his eyes locked with Mackenzie’s he began skating towards her.

“He’s gonna be ok, they’re taking him to the medical room, if you want to go and see him” Nico shouted over the crowd, as Mackenzie started moving towards the locker rooms. She glanced back at the love of her life laying on a stretcher, and whilst deep in her brain she knew it was protocol for players to be taken off that way after taking more powerful hits, she’d seemed to have lost all logical thinking.

Mackenzie wasn’t sure how but she’d somehow made it to the tunnels, as she was about to walk down them a security guard gently grabbed her wrist to gain her attention.

“Do you have a pass?” the guard asked. “Erm y-yeah” Mackenzie dug through her pocket to pull it out but just as earlier it didn’t work. “I’m sorry you can’t come through.” the guard arrogantly said. “b-but you don’t understand! m-my boyfriend Jack is in there hurt, they’ve just taken him down” Mackenzie stuttered.

“Hughes?” the guard questioned, Mackenzie simply nodded, expecting him to let her through now that he had that information however he just laughed at her. “Oh if I had a dollar every time one of you crazy fangirls used that excuse, I’d be a billionaire.” He cackled.

Mackenzie sighed before walking away to call Ellen. “Mackenzie?” Ellen’s reassuring voice spoke, “E-ellen, they won’t let me in” Mackenzie mumbled on the verge of tears. “What was that honey? Where are you?” Ellen spoke calmly, looking over at Jim. “By the tunnels, but they won’t let me in. I need to see Jack, I need to see him” Mackenzie spoke louder, a tear sliding down her face. “Okay Honey, Jim and I are on our way, just stay there. Everything’s gonna be fine” Ellen’s motherly instincts kicked in as she stayed on the line with her until she saw the tunnels. Mackenzie stood off just to the side pacing back and forth, biting her nails.

Ellen rushed over giving the smaller girl a hug, whispering reassurances in her ear, before gently guiding her to the tunnel entrance again. The same security guard approached them, smiling at Ellen but frowning when he saw Mackenzie again. “She can’t come through” He pointed at the smaller blonde, “She, is my son’s girlfriend and I doubt Jack would appreciate you talking to her like that” Ellen responded, “so I suggest you move and allow her through” Ellen stood expectantly.

The security guard nodded defeated, as the girls made their way through the corridors, Jim following behind. Ellen guided Mackenzie gently into the medical room, where a sweaty Jack layed. “Jack!” Mackenzie exclaimed before running over to him, “are you okay baby? What hurts? Just you wait till I see the jerk that knocked you over!” Mackenzie rushed out, grabbing one of his hands in one of hers, she began brushing the hair off his sweaty forehead with the other. Jack layed there, barely able to keep his eyes open but lifted his lip in a slight smile. “Hey baby” He whispered.

“Hey bubs, how are you feeling?” Mackenzie asked as she leaned over to give him a kiss, “like I just got floored” Jack hummed in thought. “Are you in pain? I can go find a medical staff to give you something?” Mackenzie suggested. “They’ve already given me something” Jack mumbled just as the team's doctor walked in. He approached the table with a smile, “Hello Jack, how are you feeling?” he asked as he began looking through cabinets seemingly for equipment.

“Erm dizzy, my shoulder hurts, and my eyes feel heavy” Jack spoke, sounding unsure of himself. “Okay, let’s have a look shall we? If you could follow the light for me” the doctor explained as he began his examinations. After a while he concluded that Jack needed to go to the hospital to get some scans done as he suspected a concussion and a broken collarbone. Mackenzie stepped away as they began getting Jack ready to be moved, Ellen came over and grabbed her hand.

“Jim is going to take Kaylee back to your place and I’m going to take Jack's car to meet you at the hospital, ok honey” Ellen squeezed her hand, “are you sure? I can drive Jack's car if you want to ride with him” Mackenzie assured. Before Ellen could reply Jack's disorientated voice called out as they wheeled him to the ambulance, “Kenzie?”

“I think that answers that question” Ellen smiled knowingly, “I’ll call you if anything happens on the way there” Mackenzie promised before trailing behind Jack. “Mack?” Jack called again trying to move, “I’m here, I’m here” Mackenzie reassured before climbing in beside him taking a seat out of the way. Jack reached out his good arm prompting her to hold it. “It’s gonna be okay bubs, I promise” Mackenzie stroked his knuckles soothingly.

Luckily the hospital was only a short journey away, Mackenzie shot a quick text to Ellen letting her know that they’d arrived and she’d wait in the waiting room for her as she wasn’t allowed out back due to not being immediate family, even though she was registered as one of Jack's emergency contacts. “Today’s really not my day” she mumbled to herself as she sat down fiddling with the necklace Jack gave her for their 2 year anniversary and felt two tears slide down her cheeks before the floodgates opened. Ellen spotted the anxious blonde immediately, she walked over and sat down slowly into the seat beside her, grabbing one of her hands as she did so.

“Jack is going to be absolutely fine” Ellen comforted her, “I know but I just hate seeing him in pain and not being able to do anything” Mackenzie sighed, “He’s worked so hard over the summer to prepare for the season ahead and now he’s out in their first game?”

“You know Jack, he’ll bounce back in no time.” Ellen squeezed her hand, “and I have no doubt he’s gonna be well looked after.” she added gently, teasing to lighten the mood, Ellen lifted her arm inviting Mackenzie to a hug as they waited.

An hour later, a doctor in dark blue scrubs stepped into the waiting room, “Family of Jack Hughes?” he asked as he scanned the waiting patients and family members.

Ellen stood up first, Mackenzie following shortly after as they approached the young man. “Hi I’m Ellen, Jack’s mom” Ellen shook his hand as she introduced herself. “I’m Mackenzie, Jack’s girlfriend” Mackenzie introduced herself. “Nice to meet you both, I’m Doctor May I’ve been the doctor in charge of Mr Hughes’ care, if you’d like to follow me” Doctor May gestured forward as he walked.

The doctor led them into a side room, “please take a seat” he gestured as he sat himself. “Is everything okay?” Mackenzie asked anxiously. “Well, Mr Hughes is currently down in X-ray, as we suspect he’s broken his collarbone. We have already performed a CT scan which shows no internal damage to his head, however we’ve confirmed a mild concussion. We’re awaiting the results of the x-ray to see if he’s going to need surgery.” Doctor May concluded.

“S-surgery?” Mackenzie’s eyes widened, “yes, naturally that is always the last resort however with Mr Hughes’ field of work we need to ensure his collarbone is stable enough to withstand forceful pressure in the future.” The doctor explained, however it didn’t make Mackenzie any less anxious, “Can I see him when he’s back?” she asked nervously. “Of course, I will update you once the results are back” Doctor May assured before standing up to show them to Jack’s empty room.

“Mr Hughes should be back soon, if you have any questions please don’t hesitate to ask” the doctor smiled comfortably heading to the door, “Erm before you go, may I ask what medication Jack has been given?” Mackenzie spoke softly to the doctor, “He’s been given codeine and morphine” he replied as he scanned his notes.

“May you make a note to not give him any more codiene? It makes him extremely nauseous” Mackenzie requested. “Of course, I shall ask a nurse to fetch a sick bowl as well just in case, I’m not sure why that wasn't on his records” the doctor wrote down the request. “Thank you.” Mackenzie smiled as she sat in the chair closest to where the missing bed was. Ellen placed a comforting hand on the younger girl's shoulder, “you’re both as bad as each other” she stated. Mackenzie furrowed her eyebrows, “I’m sorry?” she questioned, looking up at the older woman. “You and Jack, remember when you broke your wrist when Jack was away on a roadie?” Ellen asked as she stroked Mackenzie’s hair.

Mackenzie faintly nodded, “well he asked Jim and I to fly out to come and look after you, he must have called us at least 20 times each in an hour to keep updating him” Ellen smiled at the memory, “reminds me of Jim and I in a way.”

“How so?” Mackenzie questioned, Ellen laughed to herself, “when Jim and I first started seeing each other, he’d invite me to his games. At first I thought he was a really good player until he kept trying to impress me by making some questionable plays, anyways one day he’d made arguably his most stupidest play to date and I remember so vividly sitting there, panicking, anxiously awaiting him to stand up, to brush off the ice and wink at me like he usually did. It was his way of reassuring me he was fine but this time he didn’t. Anyways he broke his leg and I made him vow to stop trying to impress me, I joked that I’d need a hospital bed next to his next time, my heart was beating so fast” Ellen laughed.

Before Mackenzie could reply a nurse entered the room, moving to open both doors as a bed was wheeled in, Jack pumping his good arm up and down in the air, babbling nonsense to one of the nurses. “My wife is so beautiful , an angel.” Jack tells him.

Ellen and Mackenzie exchange a look with wide eyes, “wife huh?” Ellen teased, “something you two aren’t telling me?” she added smirking at Mackenzie’s shocked, flushed face. “There she is! Isn’t she beautiful?” Jack shouted as he locked eyes with hers. “I assume you're his wife?” the nurse asked, Mackenzie smiled nodding, “apparently we got married” she mumbled more to herself.

The nurse smiled, before asking Ellen to follow him outside to update her on Jack’s condition. “Hey husband” Mackenzie teased as she leaned down to give him a kiss, “Hey baby, I missed you” Jack gave her a dopey grin. “I missed you too, I’ve been so worried about you bubs.” Mackenzie confessed.

“I love—“ Jack spoke before being cut off with a gag, “you gonna barf?” Mackenzie asked hurriedly as she reached for a sick bowl. Jack shook his head no before quickly nodding yes, as Mackenzie held the bowl in front of him, she rubbed his back soothingly. He dry heaved as he tried to force more out, “shh, it’s okay bubs, don’t force it out” Mackenzie reached for a bottle of water from the nightstand and placed the barf bowl on the table.

A nurse walked in to give Jack some more pain medicine, she noticed the barf bowl and grabbed some gloves. “let me get rid of this for you.” she said as she grabbed it and left, returning a short while after.

“Thank you, I’m sorry about that” Mackenzie apologised. “Oh don’t worry about it, it happens more often than you think, now I have some more pain medication for Jack” the nurse reassured before placing an IV on Jack's arm.

Jack watches as Mackenzie holds his hand squeezing reassuringly before giving him a small smile. “Feel a bit better now?” Mackenzie asked as she began brushing her hand through his hair soothingly, “mhmm” Jack hummed. Ellen entered the room, smiling softly at her son, “Oh Jack” she sighed, coming over to the unoccupied side of the bed. “How are you feeling honey?” she asked, looking down at her son worriedly.

“I feel soooo good right now!” Jack mumbled before trying to move, “woah easy there cowboy” Mackenzie moved to fluff up his pillows. “But I want cuddles.” Jack pouted. Ellen chuckled, shaking her head, “you’re literally acting like a child right now” Mackenzie giggled, “hmm” Jack smiled almost drunkenly at her.

“Ellen, I’ll be back in a sec, I’m just gonna go to the bathroom and call Kaylee to update her” Mackenzie mumbled.

“Okay sweetie, I’ll make sure this one behaves whilst you’re gone” Ellen smirked, “Jack, I’ll be back soon love, I’m just heading to the bathroom okay?” Mackenzie reassured him. Jack just grunted in response before beginning to count his fingers, “Mom, why have I only got 7 FINGERS?” Jack screeched, as Mackenzie began leaving. “No Jack, honey you have ten,see?” Ellen laughed. “But there’s 8 I counted!” Jack whined.

Mackenzie giggled as she left, she spent 10 minutes walking down the hallways searching for the bathroom before she finally found one, sighing in relief she entered. After finishing her business and washing her hands, she grabbed her phone and called Kaylee.

“Hey babe, everything okay?” Kaylee spoke as she answered, “Yeah , yeah Jack’s okay. He has a concussion but other than that no other serious injuries. We’re still waiting for news on his collarbone but the doctors believe he might need surgery” Mackenzie explained, “surgery? Damn” Kaylee tsked, “nothings been confirmed though” Mackenzie added, “How’s Jack?” She could hear Jim faintly ask. “Kenz, Jim wants to know how Jack is?” Kaylee relayed the message, “he’s doing good although apparently he only has 7 fingers and I’m his wife” Mackenzie laughed.

“Soooo high off his mind on drugs?” Kaylee summarised, “so high” Mackenzie laughed, “PLEASE film it” Kaylee begged, “oh I will, would Jim like to speak to him? I’m not sure how much you’ll get out of him at the moment” Mackenzie asked sweetly, “I’ll come visit in a little while, does he need anything?” Jim asked, “maybe some new clothes and his toothbrush, it’s not clear how long he’s gonna need to stay for. I’ll message Nico and update him as well” she replied, “I’ll speak with Nico, you just focus on Jack” Jim assured her.

“Thank you Jim” she said her goodbyes before returning to Jack’s room. “KENNY!” Jack exclaimed as he saw her enter, “Jack, shhh” Ellen lightly scolded to try and quieten him down. “Hey bubs.” Mackenzie cooed as she came over. “Have you heard anything yet?” She asked Ellen, “just that the results are back for the doctor to review” the older woman replied, Mackenzie nodded before holding Jack’s hand again as he pouted.

“Kiss?” He asked as he blew her a kiss, “Jack, your mom’s here” Mackenzie informed him, as Ellen laughed. “Hmm, and?” He puckered his lips, Mackenzie sighed before leaning in for a quick peck.

“That’s it, okay” Mackenzie brushed her free hand through his hair.

Jack huffed, and looked away, “Jack” Mackenzie laughed out, “I love you, but ‘m not making out with you when you’re mom’s here. Especially when you’re drugged up.” She tried to explain to him. Jack peeked around Mackenzie’s shoulder to look at Ellen, who was sat smirking and shaking her head at the pair.

“Mhm” Jack hummed, as his eyes began fluttering, “tired sweet boy?” Mackenzie asked as she began pulling the blanket over him, Jack nodded sleepily.

“Get some rest, okay, we’ll wake you up when the doctor’s here” she leant down to kiss his forehead as soft snores escaped his mouth.

Mackenzie then sat down in the free chair, resting her head on the bed, still holding Jack’s hand. Ellen and Mackenzie started talking about what they've been up to over the last few months, before Ellen began talking about a new recipe Mackenzie had sent her to try out, Ellen’s phone buzzed with a text from Jim saying he was outside.

“I’m going to meet Jim in the lobby and bring him up, I’ll be back soon” Ellen promised as she stood up, Mackenzie smiled as Ellen left the room, before looking back at Jack, she sighed, “what am I gonna do with you?” She mumbled before closing her eyes, slowly drifting to sleep.

Ellen and Jim approached the room, “He’s asleep at the moment” Ellen finished her sentence as she opened the door, before stopping in the doorway, “Why have you stopped here?” Jim asked, peering over his wife’s shoulder. All he could see was the lower half of Jack’s body, one leg covered the other not, and a small curtain of blonde hair.

Ellen smiled warmly before snapping a picture of the two, as she walked further in. “How long has she been out for?” Jim asked as he placed the bag of Jack's clothes down. “She was awake when I left” Ellen replied as she noticed Jack’s lip subconsciously wobbling.

The older woman grabbed the blanket he’d obviously kicked off and tucked him in again leaving a kiss on his head before she asked her husband to pass the blanket from the bag to cover the small blonde sleeping beside her son. She took a seat next to Jim on the other side and smiled fondly at the pair. “She’s good for him.” Jim commented, “she is.” Ellen agreed, smiling.

Liked by trevorzegras, _quinnhughes, Frey.Lodge and 157,179 others

Kenzie.Havener Devs season babyyyy 😈❤️

tagged:- jackhughes Cody.Griffin Kay.Johnson Chase_Lukas

trevorzegras *ducks season* 🦆

lhughes_06 not my fault we’re better than you 👀🤷🏼‍♂️

Kay.Johnson Devs all the way babyyyyy 🫡

Cody_Griffin cheers pal 🍻

Kenzie.Havener chin chin bud😌🍻

User108 notice how she doesn’t even address jack? 😒

User178 Not every post has to be about Jack

User109 y’all hate on her when she posts jack and hate on her when she doesn’t😩

Kay.Johnson preach it sister @user109 🙏🏽

Skylar.Grace Im telling mom you drink 😌

Kenzie.Havener who do you think introduced me to it?🤣👀

Skylar.Grace fr? Why do I miss out on all the fun? 😩😒

Kay.Johnson … you’re 19!!

Skylar.Grace and?

Rachel109 it was lovely to meet you!

Kenzie.Havener it was so lovely to meet you too! Hope you enjoyed the game 🩷

Liked by Kenzie.Havener, Olivia.Autumn, Frey.Lodge and 14,120 others

Kay.Johnson made the jumbotron girlies 😌

Kay.Johnson and Codes you owe me $20

Cody.Griffin sending it now 🙄😩

Kenzie.Havener you’re welcome for the picture btw 👀

Kay.Johnson I told you to take it 💀

Trevorzegras at a devils game… what a traitor! 😭

Kay.Johnson how am I supposed to come to a ducks game when you’re across the country? 🧐

trevorzegras that’s only a minor inconvenience

Kay.Johnson mhhhmm 😒

Kenzie.Havener sexy lady made it to the big screen! 🫦

Kay.Johnson not sure if you deserve an autograph yet 😌

[sentientcave]

You Drive Me Wild - Nikolai x OC It's October 1990, and Nikolai is a soldier, guarding the Soviet embassy in Copenhagen. It's a dull assignment, with dull comrades, the only bright spot of his station the days away from the embassy, when he can get to know this new city and her people. It's one of these nights when a woman he's been dreaming about walks into a smoky bar, and into his arms at last.

Contains: Alcohol, smoking, age-gap relationship, plain text is "translated" Russian (Since it is Nikolai's perspective), English in italics, pining, low-key hero worship, oral sex, unprotected (oops) sex. (Let me know if I missed something!)

~7.3k - MDNI!! - Intended for mature audiences

Read on AO3

Copenhagen, October 5th, 1990

Copenhagen was… Alright. 

Nikolai had gotten a cushy sort of assignment, thanks to Natalia’s connections, guarding the Soviet embassy. Mostly all he had to do was stand around and look threatening, check identification at the gate, occasionally follow the ambassador around to some function or another. It wasn’t complicated. It wasn’t exciting. It just… was. Days bled into each other like cheap watercolour paint, edges blurred and indistinct. The routine chafed at him. He had gotten too used to freedom, running wild between Leningrad and the farmhouse out in Kyrelia, skipping school and occasionally helping his uncle with work, which was more likely to end in real action than anything he did at the embassy. A high-speed car chase through fields of rye was good fun, and a knife-fight in a back alley was better. 

Still, there was a certain thrill to getting out of Russia— A few runs across the border into Finland hadn’t given him much idea of what life was like outside, and he was eager to taste what the West had to offer him. He spent every moment that he could off base, practising his languages, picking up pretty brunettes (English and American ones, when he could), listening to music that hadn’t been approved by any government agency, played in basement bars, laced with anger and heavy guitar, the air heavy with smoke and the smell of sweat. He would have spent too much of his meagre salary going out to bars around the city, if he didn’t so often wind up with more cash in his pockets than when he left, betting on games of pool and poker and winning more often than not. 

He had a few favourite establishments, ones with a higher turnover rate of tourists. It was harder to shark the same people twice, but cocky American tourists provided good hunting for a fresh-faced soldier who was oh so good at pretending to be a simple country boy. It was their own arrogance that lost the games before they had even begun. Nikolai had no qualms about using that American bluff and bluster to his advantage. This particular bar was near some of the embassies and plenty of hotels, and he’d already made a hundred American dollars playing pool with chain of unlucky marks (So typical of Americans to carry their own currency in another country). He sat at the bar considering his next move. He felt no particular urge to play any longer, or to return to his comrades, sitting at a table on the other side of the crowded establishment. Perhaps he would try his luck with the table of leggy blond women in the back corner of the smoky bar. One of them had been throwing smiles his way for the past half-hour. Pussy was pussy, even if he did prefer brunettes with thick, muscular thighs. 

“You should play another round of pool,” Ivan, one of his fellow embassy guards said in his ear, half crashing into him from behind, knocking Nikolai into the bar and nearly spilling his beer. “There is a beautiful woman who’s about to beat a couple of Germans, you could have next game.” 

Nikolai made a disgruntled sound. “I’m done for tonight,” he said, draining the rest of his beer. “You play her.” He had neglected to return to the table with Ivan and the others for a reason. He was tired of the usual posturing and boisterous behaviour already, and they had really only started in on their night. They often made fun of him for calling it early, or not trying to keep up with them, but it was always his turn to feel superior in the morning, when they could hardly open their eyes. 

“Ah, come on, Kolyan. I can’t speak German or English. She will look at me like I’m a fool if I try to speak to her.” Ivan relied too heavily on Nikolai when it came to women. He made no effort to learn other languages, putting him at a disadvantage talking to local and tourist alike in Copenhagen, where Danish, English, German and even French were the best bets for communication.

“Maybe she speaks Russian.” 

Ivan scoffed. “Unlikely. She looks American.”

Nikolai rolled his eyes, but turned to look, rewarded with the sight of a round ass wearing a pair of blue jeans bent over the table. A brunette, with shiny, slightly curling hair pulled into a high ponytail, wearing a leather jacket. Judging by the looks on the faces of the two blond giants across from her, she was about to clear the table. And she was just Nikolai’s type, by the shape of her. 

He ordered two shots of whiskey, and when he turned to look around again, the woman had circled to the other side of the table. Nikolai’s heart stammered to a stop for a moment, bounced against the bottom of his stomach, and lurched back into motion as it landed hard in it’s usual place. 

Helena.

She sank the eight ball, grinning like a wolf, her red-painted lips stark contrast against her white teeth. “Sorry, boys. That’s game,” she told them in that pretty English accent of hers. “Better luck next time.”

Nikolai slapped a few krone on the bar and picked up the shot glasses, sidling up to Helena, setting them on the water-stained wooden edges of the pool table. “Lena,” he said, puffing himself up a bit. He had no need to pitch his voice lower now, or pull himself ramrod straight to give him the extra height.  He was undoubtedly a man now, with a days worth of stubble on his chin and enough experience with women that he would not turn pink or stammer when she looked at him. She would have to see that. “Have a drink with me.”

Her attention snapped away from the Germans and to him, eyes devastatingly sharp on their first pass, until recognition softened her features with a smile half a heartbeat later. “Kolya?” she asked. “What are you doing here?” She didn’t wait for an answer before she seized him around the neck, pulling him into a tight hug. 

Nikolai wrapped his arms around her waist, picking her up and spinning her in a tight circle, breathing in the smell of cigarettes and sweet, spicy perfume. He was a lot taller than she was now, and she fit into his arms better than a dream, with weight and substance. The last time he had seen her, three years that felt like a lifetime ago, they had been the same height. 

“I’m a soldier now,” he told her as he set her back down on her feet, his hands lingering on her hips just a moment longer than necessary. He had no desire to let her go, but he did. “Stationed at the embassy. Aunt Talia pulled strings. It’s an easy assignment.”

“They made you cut your hair.” She rubbed a hand over his head, her hand sliding down the back of his neck before she let it fall back to her side. “It’s too bad. The long hair suited you.”

Nikolai nudged her gently, picking the shots up again and handing one to her. “I’ll grow it back once I’m my own man again. For you.”

He loved the way her eyes creased when she smiled. “Good.” They knocked their glasses together and downed them at the same time. “You still smoke?” she asked, inclining her head towards the door. “I was about to step outside.”

“You can smoke in here.” A bluish haze hung in the air above their heads, swirling whenever someone opened the door to admit a fresh gust of air, and many patrons of the bar had lit cigarettes in their hands, smoke drifting upwards with every exhale. 

“I know. But it’s loud. I want to catch up.” 

He would never argue against taking a moment alone with her. “As you wish.” He gestured for her to walk ahead of him. He could feel Ivan’s eyes on the back of his neck, so he shot a quick, gloating glance over his shoulder at his open-mouthed comrade, and then dashed ahead to open the door for Helena. 

They stepped into the cool night air, and Helena pulled a pack of smokes out of her inner jacket pocket and thumbed one up enough that she could pull it out with her mouth, and offered the pack to Nikolai while she dug her lighter out of the front pocket of her jeans. 

“You’re here on business?” Nikolai held her wrist steady as he plucked a cigarette from the pack, fingers moving fast enough that he hoped she wouldn’t notice that he took one that had the slightest smudge of red lipstick on it. He might be a man, but he didn’t harbour any illusions about his chances with Helena. An indirect kiss was the best he could hope for. 

Lena tucked the pack into her pocket again, nodding. “Yes. Finished up now. I’ll be leaving tomorrow.” She lit her own cigarette and held up the lighter for him, her other hand cupped around the flame to protect it from the chilly breeze that rolled down the well-lit streets.

“That’s too bad. I have a few days off. It would be nice to spend some time with you.” He braced a hand on the wall behind her as he leaned in, meeting her eyes evenly. Did he just imagine that little hitch of breath? The spark of interest in her dark brown eyes?

She looked away, flicking the lighter closed. “I could maybe stick around another day.”

“Maybe another two?” he asked playfully. He was still looming over her, not touching, but close enough to share heat. She didn’t move away. 

“We’ll see.” She braced her left elbow against her hand, setting the cigarette to her lips, her eyes everywhere but on him. Perhaps her stance was protective, hesitant, but still… Something had very obviously shifted between them. 

Her wedding band was missing. 

After three years of pining and chasing any woman that reminded him even a little of Helena, it was a cold-water shock to the system to imagine that the real thing was suddenly attainable. Fate had smiled at him, led them to each other on a chilly autumn night in a city big enough that they could have easily sailed right past each other, not even knowing that the other was near. Nikolai was no longer a child, he was tall and strong like a man worthy of her ought to be, and she was as beautiful as he remembered, sloe-eyed and ageless, and she was not wearing a wedding ring. 

Still, his chances balanced like a knife tip on a finger. It would be easy to move to fast or too slow, to ask the wrong question or provide the wrong answer. Helena might still think him too young. He could stumble and show his limited experience, let the facade of confidence slip, allow the knife to tumble, sharp and glittering, to the ground.  

He resisted the urge to touch one of the escaped wisps of hair that framed her face, curling in the damp sea air. "Do you ever wear your hair down?" he asked, pivoting away from the inclination to ask about her marriage. Maybe that would be a conversation for a few drinks later. 

"Not really," she said, finally looking up at him again, tucking one of those escaped curls behind her ear. "Why?" 

"Just wondering. I think I only even saw it down once. It is always business with you. Practicality." 

"Nothing wrong with that."

"Certainly not. It is just curiosity." 

"Hm. Of course.” The look she gave him was strange, fond but slightly suspicious, like she knew that there was something unsaid underneath his casual tone, but hadn’t quite figured out what. “How is the family?” Her turn to pivot, turning the conversation away from herself and back to predictable waters. “Last time I spoke to Talia she said she was expecting another baby." 

Nikolai nodded. "Yes. Due soon. Maybe inside the month. And little Aleksei just turned three. Getting bigger every day. Talking endlessly, asking a thousand questions every day. Wants to know the whys of every little thing. How is your son? Ten now, yes?" 

"Yes. He's a smart boy. Very capable. He's an expert marksman already. Hits a dead eye on a moving target eight times out of ten." 

"Impressive." 

“He’s got no real sense for flying though. Taken him up a few times, but he doesn’t like heights. Poor kid.”

Nikolai laughed, struck, not for the first time, at the absurdity of her being a mother at all. She had patience, but little softness, more a captain training a recruit than a mother teaching her son, more concerned with toughness and survival than anything else. She was a hawk nudging her fledgling out of the nest and hoping he would fly. “He is only ten years old, Lena,” he reminded her. “You cannot expect him to be an expert in all things.”

“Well, I suppose not. He’s a pretty good driver, at least.” 

Ivan tumbled out the door, followed by Iosif and Pyotr, the three of them laughing. Like Nikolai, they had gotten their stations in Copenhagen due to connections, but unlike Nikolai, they didn’t take an ounce of it seriously. Nikolai was no nationalist, but he did respect the training. He knew he could outrun, out-lift and out-shoot all three of them. And when it came to thinking, he was many miles ahead as well. 

“Kolyan! We thought you left us behind,” Pyotr said. “But no, you are just out here with a beautiful woman.” 

“Helena,” Lena supplied, giving them a half-wave with her nearly spent cigarette. 

“Pyotr,” he replied, giving her a wide smile. He was tall as Nikolai, and blond and handsome in an annoying, self-aware way. “Ivan, and Iosif,” he added, pointing to the others in turn. “You don’t look Russian.” They were all so surprised when someone could speak more languages then they were born with, as though their own ignorant refusal to learn to communicate was the norm.

“I’m English,” she said. “A friend of Kolya’s family.”

Iosif gave Helena a look that lingered too long everywhere but her face. It made Nikolai want to punch him repeatedly. “You’re very beautiful,” Iosif said bluntly. “Can I buy you a drink?”

She smiled at him, the wolfish one that was all bared teeth and thinly-veiled threat, and dropped her cigarette to the damp ground, stepping on it to ensure it was fully out. “No. I buy my own drinks.”

“Kolyan bought you a drink,” Iosif protested. 

“I don’t like you as much as I like him,” Lena said, shrugging. “There are no debts between us.” 

Of course she would say so. She didn’t tally favours against friends, no concern for balanced books when the scales were tipped her way. He didn’t operate like that— Couldn’t afford to let favours accumulate interest, liked to collect sooner rather than later, keeping his own ledger clear. But it was staggering, how much he owed her. For the gifts, his flight lessons, the dust up in Leningrad where he had gotten injured, cornered and nearly killed, and she had taken down two men with her boot knife and bare hands. “Not quite,” Nikolai said softly. “My life is yours.” Perhaps it was nothing to her, just another day in a life filled with violence, but he would certainly not forget the sight of her covered in someone else’s blood, rushing to his side the moment both bodies hit the floor. 

She shook her head, looking up at him. Her dark eyes looked starry, the way they cast back the orange light of streetlamps and the pink and blue neon sign from across the street, but it was hard to fathom what she was thinking, behind all that reflected colour. “No, Kolya. You owe me nothing.”

Nikolai tossed down his own cigarette and tapped his first knuckle against the bottom of her chin, leaning in a little closer. “It is really not a matter of owing, Helena,” he purred. “It is a matter of knowing where I stand.”

Her lips parted slightly, a hint of colour creeping into her pale cheeks. 

“If there is a story there, we’d like to hear it,” Pyotr said smoothly, interrupting the moment with all the grace of a bucking bull smashing through a window. “Come, let Kolyan buy you another drink, tell us why he owes you his life.”

“It is better if I tell it,” Nikolai said. “She will discount her actions, because she is as modest as she is beautiful. But it is up to her if we join you. Tonight she is my general.” He dropped his arm to her shoulders, pulling her in close. She made no move to push him away, and her body fit right in against him like she belonged there. Like she belonged with him. 

“They’re your friends, Kolya. Up to you.”

In all truth, he didn’t want to share any of her attention with them, although he did feel a certain pull to show her off some, even though she was not really his.  “One drink,” he said. “We won’t stay long.”

They crowded back into the bar, and Helena touched Nikolai's chest lightly. "I'll be right back," she said, taking off for the back corner of the bar, weaving through clumps of other patrons. It was getting busier, and a band was tuning up their instruments on the opposite side of the establishment, the noise already sending ripples through the haze of smoke. Pyotr followed him to the bar while Ivan and Iosif laid claim to one of the few remaining tables. 

"You always have good luck with women," Pyotr complained while they waited for the bartender to take notice of them. "You should leave some beautiful girls for the rest of us, no?" 

"If you learned another tongue you could speak to some of them yourself," Nikolai said. "You and Ivan should try. Iosif has been learning English. He's fucking terrible at it, but it's worth the effort. He gets dates." 

"Your Helena speaks Russian. And German?" 

"And French. Maybe more than that. She does business in many countries."

“Business? She does not look like a business woman.”

Nikolai shrugged, burying his irritation under nonchalance. “Perhaps you have a narrow mind.” 

Once they had their drinks in hand, they found the other two soldiers, and crammed into the booth with them. With four bulky men in the space, it was hard to imagine squeezing Helena into a proper seat. Nikolai wanted to kiss Ivan and Iosif on the mouth for creating a scenario where he might be able to coax Helena to sit on his lap. They were not good for much, but at least they were good for something. 

Helena reappeared at his shoulder, and Nikolai twisted to look up at her, surprised to find that she had taken her hair down from its ponytail. She looked a little wilder that way, a little younger, dark hair loose around her shoulders, curling at the ends.

"Why don't you sit with me?" Pyotr asked, patting his knee invitingly. "Pretty thing like you ought to have a man take care of you, yes?" 

Helena gave him an unamused look and hooked her arm around Nikolai's shoulders, dropping onto his thigh without any further ceremony. Nikolai wrapped his arm around her waist happily, his big hand sitting on the junction between her hip and thigh. He resisted the urge to dig his fingers in and feel her properly. "Don't get any ideas, Kolya," she told him, an attempt to be stern, although he wasn't sure either of them really believed that she meant it. "I'm far too old." 

"Not so," Nikolai said, hoping honesty would help his case. "I've been with older women than you." He preferred women to girls his own age. 

Surprise flickered across her face. She was rarely surprised, but the expression suited her, her soft red lips parting slightly, her beautiful eyes, usually half closed, opened wide. Ivan and Iosif were laughing, Iosif jostling Pyotr with his elbow for getting rejected so definitively. 

Nikolai pressed his advantage, leaning in close, his words only for her. "Perhaps you will tell me later why you have no ring on your finger." 

She turned her head slightly. They were so close that their noses almost brushed. "Kolya..." 

"Lena," he returned, nudging the tip of his nose against hers, satisfaction pooling in his belly at the was she inhaled, like she thought he was going to try to kiss her. And then he turned away, picking up his beer and nudging hers toward the corner of the table slightly.

Yes, things had certainly shifted between them.

There was something gratifying about having her there, and not just because her warm body was pressed close to his, but to have someone to exchange a look with when Pyotr said something out of touch, or when Ivan made a terrible joke. They tended to think alike, him and his sparrowhawk, and every time they looked at each other it was confirmation of the chemistry that Nikolai had long been painfully aware of, and Lena was just beginning to realize. 

When she finished her beer, she stood up, heading outside for another cigarette. She didn’t like to smoke indoors— Nikolai suspected it was more a reason to take a step outside to gather her thoughts than it was for any type of propriety. Pyotr had offered her two as they sat around the table, and she had politely declined each time. 

“I won’t be back,” he told the others, grinning wolfishly at the sour look on Pyotr’s face. “Try not to get into too much trouble without me. You will not be able to talk your way out of it.”

He found Lena around the corner, tucked into an alley to get out of the wind. The weather had a habit of shifting without warning, and there was a smell of ozone in the air, promising rain, although the sky above them was still dark and clear. 

She looked at him, but didn’t speak, simply held out her pack of cigarettes to offer him one. He lit it with his own lighter this time, nodding his thanks rather than breaking the silence. If she had something on her mind, it would be better to wait her out. So he smoked, standing a step away, watching her. He could never get tired of looking at her anyway. 

Finally, she spoke, an accusation, but delivered lightly. “You’ve been flirting.”

He nodded. The allegations were more than true. He was only glad that she could not charge him for the thoughts he’d indulged in, not simply that evening, but for a very long time. “I have.”

“Why?”

“Because I want you.” 

She dropped her spent cigarette to the ground, frowning. "Kolya, you're too young. You should be with someone your own age." 

Nikolai dropped his own cigarette and threw caution away as well, stepping forward, crowding her up against the rough brick, and cupped her face, allowing all the admiration and want that he'd tried to bury for years to rise to the surface. "I am nearly twenty. I am a soldier. Old enough to die for my country, but not old enough to want to make love to a beautiful woman I respect and adore?" 

She gripped his wrists, but didn't pull his hands away. "I--"

"No. Even before you were not happy. You deserve more, from a man who will do anything for you. Let me be that man, Lena. At least for a day or two, hm?" He pressed his lips to hers and drew back, searching her eyes for a reaction. Her grip on his wrists loosened and fell away, her palms settling against his chest instead. Not pushing him away, but not pulling him closer either. 

They looked at each other for a long moment, indecision writ in bold script across her face. Good sense would have her send him away, but it was not a night where good sense reigned supreme. They were alone, in a world that had shrank to fit just the two of them, everything else forgotten and distant. 

Her eyes dropped from his and settled on his mouth. "Oh fuck it," she said, and they crashed together desperately, her hands gripping his shirt.

Heat blazed in his chest, like a sputtering engine roaring to life. She opened up to him without him having to do any prodding, he could taste smoke and the clean burn of alcohol on her tongue as it moved against his. This was passion, not the clumsy, anxious pawing between two inexperienced people, like he was more used to, but the inevitable reaction of two people who knew exactly what they wanted. He threaded his fingers through her silky hair, angling her head slightly so he could deepen the kiss the slightest bit more, licking eagerly into her mouth. She made a soft sound, arms twining around his neck so she could press her body closer to his. He let his own hands settle on her waist. As much as he wanted to touch every inch of her, he didn't want to come across as too excitable or get carried away by his desire. He needed to make Helena melt first. His own pleasure was a guarantee. Even if she stopped him there, he had held and touched and kissed her now, and he had come many times to paltry imaginings of less.

Lena broke them apart, breathing hard, her dark eyes bright and slightly unfocused, like she had never been kissed like that. Like his kiss had left her more unsteady than the drinks, her red lipstick smeared across her mouth. “I’m staying close by,” she told him, running her thumb across the corner of his mouth, coming away with more red pigment. “Do you want—”

He cut her off with another kiss. He didn’t give a fuck if there was lipstick staining his own mouth. It was just evidence that she really had kissed him. “If you’re asking if I want to get out of here, the answer is yes.”

“Should you tell your friends?”

“No. I make it a habit to leave without saying goodbye. Especially if a beautiful woman has been sitting in my lap all evening.” He grinned, catching her hand as he stepped back. “Where are you staying?”

They walked to her hotel slowly, Nikolai stopping to kiss her at every opportunity, a little worried that she might, at any moment, come to her senses and send him on his way. He had wanted her so badly for so long, he did not wish to stop until they had tangled up together in bed, and perhaps not even then. Perhaps he could convince her to spend more time with him. Perhaps when he had served his time in the army he would be able to follow her wherever she went. 

It would likely take some convincing, but he was up to the task. In that moment, he was up to any task. 

She unlocked the door to her hotel room, her expression turning pensive. "I'm not divorced yet, we’re just separated for now. Maybe this is--"

"Lena, I am not asking you for the rest of your life." He didn't add that he would take it, if she offered it to him-- That he would take anything she offered him, no matter how big or small. "I only want to show you what you mean to me." 

She pushed the door open to let him in. "I don't-- I don't even know if we will get divorced." 

"I don't care." He did. He cared a lot, but if he said that aloud she would halt things, tell him it was for his own good. 

"Of course not. It's just a crush you want to work out of your system, right?" She smiled wryly, shedding her leather jacket and tossing it over a chair. 

"Sure." He tossed his own jacket down on top of hers and hauled her back into his arms. "Do you want to talk about this man that never deserved you? Or do you want to forget him?" He rubbed his thumb over the jagged scar on her arm, where it cut her RAF tattoo in half, his touch following it up to where it disappeared under her rolled up t-shirt sleeve and back down again. 

She drew in a shaky breath, as unsure as Nikolai had ever seen her. "He cheated on me. Said it was because I was gone so much. Guess I can’t blame him for that. Just never was able to stay home. Too much to do. Not built for domesticity.” 

“You cannot help being what you are,” Nikolai said.

Lena laughed lightly and wound her arms around his waist, her hands slipping under his shirt and curling against his back. “Are you going to tell me what I am, Kolya?” she asked, tilting her head back to look at him. 

“A sparrowhawk. A fierce little hunting bird. A warrior, perhaps, a traveller, certainly. Never the kind of woman that belongs tucked away in a kitchen somewhere. Your husband is a fool if he cannot appreciate you as you were made to be.” 

“He wants to work it out,” she warned him. “We've got so much tangled up together it might be the only thing that makes sense." 

“Perhaps. Perhaps if you must, you should allow him to chase his lesser women, so that you can spend your time with a better man.” He grinned at her and moved in for another kiss. He had said everything that needed saying, laid out what cards he thought would aid him, and kept the rest tucked away for later. She all but melted in his arms, lips parting reflexively for him. 

This time, he made no effort to restrain himself, letting his hands roam, moaning into her mouth when he finally got a handful of her backside, fingers gripping a little too tight from enthusiasm. What curves she had were incidental, from her broad-hipped build rather than much softness— Even motherhood had granted very little softness to Lena, she was packed muscle and callouses and fire, totally unlike any of the pale imitations he had found himself chasing over the past few years. Lena would always be a soldier first, it would take some effort to remind her that she was a woman too. 

Nikolai stepped forward, making Lena move backwards until her knees hit the bed, and broke the kiss so he could kiss down her neck, sucking a little too hard just below her ear, making her hiss. She gripped the collar of his shirt firmly, hauling him back a bit. “Easy,” she said, laughing. “Leave the hickies for the college girls, Kolya.”

He flushed pink, although the embarrassment from his mistake did nothing to dampen the mood, blessedly. “Sorry,” he said, knocking his forehead against hers. “You’re very hot.”

Lena grinned in response and tugged his shirt off over his head, tossing it to the side. She ran her hands over his chest, eyes following hungrily. “So are you.”

Nikolai had been hard since they started kissing outside the bar, but her words, somehow all the more genuine delivered in her own tongue, coupled with the look she gave him made him twitch, blood fully abandoning his head to travel south. He pulled her shirt off too, and kissed down her chest, cheering internally that he managed to unhook her bra on the first attempt, rather than struggling with the clasp like a schoolboy. 

Her nails grazed over his head encouragingly when he reached her small breasts, lapping his tongue across one nipple and palming the other. She made a breathy sound, and then a groan when he tested his teeth against the sensitive nub. He groaned too, some primal part of him getting off on the fact that he was making her feel good, that she was letting him touch her, that she was enjoying the feeling of his hands and lips and tongue and teeth on her skin. He felt twenty feet tall. 

Lena reached for his belt, undoing the buckle before his syrupy-slow thoughts could catch up. He broke away from her breast and caught her wrists before she could do more than undo the top button of his jeans. He was fairly sure he would spill all over her fingers if she put her hands on him. “Impatient,” he chided her, pushing her onto the bed. He sank to his knees, positioning his body between her thighs. “Ladies first.”

Her laugh was always music to his ears, but it was honey sweet now, pooling somewhere in his chest as he cut her off with another kiss. He couldn’t risk her seeing the feeling in his eyes— He knew it was too close to love, that she would realize that this meant more to him than it did to her, and she would send him away to protect him. 

He ducked his head and sank back on his haunches, pulling one of her boots into his lap so he could undo the laces and pull it free. She leaned back on her elbows to watch him, her head tipped to the side thoughtfully. Her gaze burned, but he didn’t look up until he had set both boots to the side, sliding his hands up her firm thighs to the waistband of her jeans. “These need to come off now.” 

“Now who’s impatient?” she asked teasingly, but she pitched her hips up so he could peel the denim off of her legs anyway, the heat in her eyes undeniable. 

Nikolai ran his hands up her legs reverently, dropping a kiss on the inside of her knee, torn as ever between restraint and enthusiasm. He pushed her legs open a little wider, attention fixed on her cotton-clad cunt. 

Lena gave him a sly, fox-like smile. "You want to taste me?" She asked, hooking her thumbs through the waistband of her panties. 

"More than anything," he breathed. 

"Then get to it, soldier," she said, pushing them down.

"Yes ma'am." Nikolai pulled them the rest of the way off, and tried to be subtle about shoving the (wet!) cotton in his pocket. She probably saw, but she was gracious enough to not mention it. He wasted no more time, pulling her to the edge of the bed as he peppered the inside of her thighs with kisses, eyes focused on her pretty pussy, framed by slick darkened curls. His cock throbbed as he dipped his head down, licking a broad path along her slit, groaning at the heady taste of her. He threw one of her lean legs over his shoulder and fixed his mouth to her clit, lapping his tongue across it, gripping tightly to her hips when they bucked up against him. A moan fell from Helena's mouth, prompting him to repeat the movement. 

He found a rhythm quickly, spurred on by her gasped instructions, or her hand nudging his head into just the right position. He had found that the benefit sleeping with older women was that they weren’t shy about asking for what they wanted, but Helena took it a step further and simply took, grinding against his tongue, using the leg over his shoulder to pull him closer, the other planted on his thigh so she could push him just slightly away, reminding him to breathe. As if that was important, when the sharp taste of her was heavy on his tongue and her moans were thick in the air. 

“Two fingers,” Lena gasped, nudging him back slightly to make sure he was listening. “Inside, please.”

Nikolai obeyed, leaning back to watch her face, replacing his tongue with his thumb. Her soaked cunt pulsed around his fingers, her hips canting toward his touch desperately. He curled his fingers just so, and she keened, fisting the sheets as if she were worried that she would levitate off the bed and away from his hands. “Will you come for me?” he purred. “You look so beautiful. Taste so sweet.”

His words made her gush, her walls clenching tight around him. “Fuck— Kolya!” Her whole body shuddered, pulling taut, tension snapping when he suctioned his mouth to her swollen clit once more, moaning against her as she came, as if her pleasure was his own. It nearly was. He was so hard, and his jeans so tight that he could imagine coming just from the pressure and the sweet sounds she made, although he tried not to think about that. 

She unhooked her leg from his shoulder and pushed herself into a seated position, cupping his jaw to pull him closer. “You’re pretty good at that,” she panted, pressing a kiss to his mouth, unphased by the slick that coated the lower half of his face. 

Nikolai got to his feet, letting his teeth graze against her bottom lip before he straightened up fully, separating reluctantly so he could kick off his boots and finally rid himself of the rest of his clothes. “I’m good at lots of things,” he promised. 

Helena moved toward the head of the mattress, watching him, face flushed pink high on her cheekbones and hair a mess already. Her dark eyes dipped down his chest, thighs pressing together when he finally freed his cock. He wanted to imprint the image of her looking at him like that on the back of his eyelids, so he could see it every time he blinked for the rest of his life. Her dark eyes were hot and hungry, for him. That morning, this was a distant, far off fantasy that lingered in the back of his mind, and now she was here, laying naked before him, every inch of her lean, muscular, scarred up body on display, and she wanted him. 

“Are you going to stand there all night, or are you going to come over here and show me what else you’re good at?” she asked. 

“I am just appreciating the view,” he laughed, climbing onto the bed beside her. “It’s one I’d very much like to remember.”

“Flatterer,” she accused, curling into his arms for another kiss. 

He hummed against her mouth, agreeing, pulling her on top of him, legs on either side of his waist. He was glad she was as eager to lock lips as he was— He could never get tired of the spit-slicked slide of her mouth against his, the swipe of her tongue against his own, like she was as desperate to devour him as he was her. He reached around her hips to take himself in hand, precum easing the glide of his first few rough, desperate strokes. 

“Koyla,” she whined against his mouth, angling her hips back. 

“You want me?” he asked, tapping the head of his cock against her core, grinning when she inched backward, chasing it when he pulled back again. 

“Yes,” she panted. “Please.”

Who was he to deny her? He rubbed himself against her dripping folds again, and she pitched herself backward, taking him to the hilt in one smooth movement. He groaned, fighting off the urge to come just like that, at the first molten clench of her cunt around him, fingers digging into her hips to hold her still while he adjusted. 

Lena fought his grip, grinding her clit down against him, desperate for friction and movement. Nikolai lost the battle shamefully quick, an orgasm pulsing through him before he could do more than pant out her name, holding her down against him as he came inside her, eyes screwed tight. 

He pulled in a shuddering breath, wincing. “Shit. Sorry.”

Lena just laughed, not an ounce of judgment or disappointment in the sound. “You need a minute?” she asked, pushing back up onto her knees, their hips still pressed flush together. Her cunt pulsed around him, and, blessedly, his cock responded with enthusiasm, staying hard. She rocked back and forth, hands braced against his chest as she fucked herself slowly on him, drawing each movement out excruciatingly slow, a teasing smile on her lips. She squeezed around him again, and he could help but groan, rutting up into her reflexively. 

“No. No, I will keep going. Sorry.” He pulled her down against his chest and rolled them so that he was on top. Coming too early once was bad enough, he couldn’t risk it happening a second time. He folded her legs up and thrust into her slow, making sure that she felt every inch of him drag across that spongy, sensitive spot that he had found with his fingers earlier. 

Lena hooked her legs around his waist, pressing her palms against the headboard to give herself some leverage to meet his movements, encouraging him to pick up his pace. He followed her cue, pistoning into her soaked pussy harder and faster, his balls slapping against her ass, coupling with the wet sound of his cock moving in and out of her and the little whimpers that left her lips with every thrust. He dropped down to his forearms, feeling tension building inside him again, trying to keep his reaction in check, and the change in angle made her cry out. She let go of the headboard and clung to his shoulders instead, burying her face against his neck. 

“Kolya,” she gasped into his ear. “I’m close.”

He knew that the best thing he could do was keep to the same rhythm, so he continued the relentless pace, shifting his wieght to one arm so he could reach between them, rubbing a tight circle around her clit. He legs squeezed tight around him, her cunt fluttering around his cock. She bit down on his shoulder, groaning against his skin, nails digging into his back.  His own release came quickly, the tension snapping as he spilled inside her for the second time. He rutted against her until her cunt relented, loosening around him. 

“Fuck,” he said, pressing his forehead to hers, breathing hard. “You’re so beautiful. Next time I need to see your face, yes?”

That teasing, fox-like grin returned. “Next time?”

“Give me, five, ten minutes,” he panted. “I’m good for it.” 

She laughed, pushing him over onto the bed and curling into him, her head on his shoulder, her legs tangled up with his. She made a soft, contented noise, running her fingers through the sweaty curls of hair on his chest, her expression turning dazed and thoughtful as she relaxed in his arms. He smoothed her hair back from her face, kissing the top of her head affectionately. 

"You flown a helo yet?” she asked. “I could take you up tomorrow, if you want. There’s one on the ship." The change of subject was abrupt, but he knew her well enough to recognize her tactics when she got too close to an emotion. 

"I would like that.” 

“Good. Me too.”

Nikolai sighed, tilting Lena’s chin up for another proper kiss. He would spend every moment he could by her side, for as long as she would let him, in the air or on solid ground. “Will you be in town again soon?” he asked hopefully. 

“I haven’t even left yet,” she said, laughing. 

“I wish you wouldn’t.”

She bit her lip, cheeks turning pinker, her eyes filled with something shining and hopeful and sweet, something that settled under his ribs, curling up in his chest and purring like a contented cat. “I wish I didn’t have to.”

“Next time, stay longer.” 

“I will,” she promised. “And yes, soon.”

He didn’t expect more than that. Couldn’t, knowing her. But it was enough. 

Maybe Copenhagen wasn’t so bad after all. 

[eurydycee]

Winter’s Thorn: chapter III

⚘ cregan stark x tyrell!OC

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format: series (ongoing) word count: ~ 4k warnings: women in westeros :( , not reread a/n: hello! The Kings Landing arc has ended with this chapter. The next arc will be their journey to the north where they spend time as betrothed

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“There had been decided that you—” Crayn began his confession, holding her hand steadfastly.

Until a voice interrupted them, causing both to turn their heads toward the intruder. “Good morning, I see that you have awakened. You had us both worried, brother.”

“Aah, good to see you too, Adlyn,” the knight responded with a tight smile, silently thanking the gods that his brother came at the right moment.

Adlyn turned to Euphemia while simultaneously letting his hand stroke her coral weaves, a gentle motion that sharply contrasted his demanding words, “You need to quit coddling your brother and return to court and the celebrations immediately.”

“You made us look incompetent. Just so you know, people get wounded and killed—it's part of the game, a fact you should be well aware of. I will not have you pulling stunts like rejecting your title as Queen of Beauty and Love.”

“He was mocking us—”

“He is a friend.”

“Is that what you tell yourself as you act like his lapdog?”

That made him snap, grabbing a fistful of her hair before yelling, “It is not your place to talk back to me or any man in the Keep. If I were to tell you to go back to Cregan and beg his forgiveness like a true lapdog, you will do so. I am responsible for you, and thus you will comply with my commands.”

He then let go of her and went back to a calmer version of himself.

“I expect you tonight to attend the ball in honor of the tournament winners and their assigned ladies. This is my command, and you shall obey it. Understood?”

Euphemia wanted to yell at him, to insult him, but all she could feel was pity. The death of their parents, his cursed inheritance, the near attempt on his life, and Crayn’s injury had turned him into an ugly man with an even uglier temper. Yet, she couldn't bring herself to obey. When her words failed her, her actions became her pillar, so she nodded obediently.

——————————

Upon her walk back to her chamber, Euphemia couldn't help but notice the hushed whispers shared between courtiers, servants, and guards as she passed them. She had truly underestimated the impact of her absence. Though the walk to her chambers cost mere minutes, it felt like it took an eternity to escape the malicious gossip swirling around her. Even upon reaching her chamber, she was plagued by the overwhelming number of tasks that still awaited her: promenading with her dear friend Cerelle of House Lannister, joining the court ladies for lunch, visiting the sept, getting her dress fitted for the ball, and engaging in endless talking and gossiping.

Just when she felt like losing her sanity, Cerelle entered her chambers to fetch her, like the heroine she is, for their promised time together. The golden-haired Lannister moved with the grace of a lioness, her presence commanding attention.

“There you are, Phia. How I have missed you,” Cerelle exclaimed, stretching her hands out for Euphemia to grasp.

“How have you been after… well, everything? Once our time here is over, you must return with me to Casterly Rock, like when we were children. I long to relive our days there as young maidens, even for one more day.”

“Sister,” Euphemia gazed at her friend with genuine affection. Cerelle had always been the older sister she had wished for, possessing great beauty, sharp intellect, and an uplifting nature. She grasped her hand firmly, thinking how fortunate she was not to face the cunning people of court alone.

“Oh, I am even more thrilled to see you. It has been far too long,” she replied, her smile warm and sincere.

“Court has been both boring and heated lately. With your return, I hope to find some company and to bring some peace to this place.” The two girls stood up, leaving the chamber and allowing their feet to decide their destination.

“Tell me,” said Cerelle, turning to look at her friend. “Have you truly insulted Lord Stark, The Hand, the man who essentially holds the Seven Kingdoms in his hand?” Cerelle had heard many rumors about what had transpired but preferred to hear it directly from her friend.

“If you put it that way, then I suppose I did,” Euphemia scoffed, feeling her anger rise once again. “But I felt wronged, being crowned with such a loving title  after what happened to my brother .”

“Whatever happened is in the past, you mustn’t let the blame fall on him. Show yourself as a devoted sister, the ever-dutiful nurse,” Cerelle warned sternly. 

Euphemia considered her words. It was indeed wiser not to speak ill of others, especially when she was still uncertain of her place in the court. She needed to present herself as a rose—opening her arms like petals and hiding her thorns beneath them.

The two friends walked through the castle's winding corridors, their footsteps echoing softly against the stone walls. The scent of fresh flowers from the castle gardens wafted through the air, mingling with the aroma of freshly baked bread from the kitchens. Servants bowed as they passed, their eyes filled with curiosity and respect.

As they strolled, Cerelle shared stories of her time at Casterly Rock, her laughter like music to Euphemia’s ears. The memories of their carefree days as young maidens brought a sense of nostalgia, a brief respite from the burdens of court life.

—--------------------------------------------

As the evening approached, Euphemia stood in her chamber, surrounded by maids bustling about, preparing her for the ball. The scent of lavender and rose water filled the air as they brushed out her long, ginger-pink hair, pinning it up into an elaborate coiffure adorned with delicate pearls and golden filigree. A stunning gown of sage green silk, embroidered with golden thread, lay draped across a nearby chair, shimmering in the light of the setting sun.

Euphemia took a deep breath, trying to steady her nerves. The whispers and stares she had endured throughout the day still lingered in her mind, casting a shadow over her thoughts.

“My lady, you look absolutely radiant,” her lady-in-waiting said, fixing the final pin in her hair.

“Thank you, Liora,” Euphemia replied with a soft smile. “It is beautiful work.”

Just as she began to relax, the door to her chamber opened, and Adlyn, strode in. He glanced around the room, his eyes narrowing slightly as he took in the scene, but there was a warmth in his gaze that belied his serious demeanor.

“Leave us,” he commanded the maids, who quickly curtsied and exited the room, leaving the siblings alone.

“Adlyn,” Euphemia began, but he cut her off with a firm raised hand.

“Euphemia, you must understand the importance of this night,” he said, his voice resolute. “Your return to court is not merely a personal matter. It is a matter of our family’s honor and standing. You must shut down these rumors and reassert your place in court.”

She sighed, feeling the weight of his words. “I know, Adlyn. But it’s not easy. The things they say…”

He stepped closer, his expression softening as he placed a reassuring hand on her shoulder. “You are stronger than you realize, sister. You have always been a beacon of grace and dignity. And there is another matter. Your relationship with Cregan must be mended. The hand´s support is crucial.”

Euphemia’s brow furrowed in confusion. “Lord Stark is attending? I haven’t seen him all day. Where is he?”

“He has been working in his office, dealing with important matters of the realm.” he answered

Euphemia nodded slowly in agreement. “I will do what I must. But, Adlyn, you must promise me something.”

He raised an eyebrow, intrigued. “What is it?”

“Promise me that we will find a way to honor our family without sacrificing your own or anyone else's happiness,” she said, her voice steady but pleading.

Adlyn’s stern demeanor softened further, and he squeezed her shoulder reassuringly. “I promise, Euphemia. But first, you must attend the ball and show them all the strength and grace of our house.”

She nodded, her resolve strengthening. “I will, Adlyn.”

Adlyn's gaze softened even more as he looked at his sister, adorned in her splendid gown. “You look absolutely stunning, Euphemia. Your presence alone will silence many of those whispers. They cannot help but be captivated by your grace and beauty.”

Euphemia blushed slightly, a small smile playing on her lips. “Thank you, Adlyn. Your words mean a great deal to me.”

With a final glance in the mirror, she left her chamber, ready to step into the ballroom and reclaim her place in the world she had once known so well.

—----------------------

The ballroom was a dazzling display of opulence. Crystal chandeliers cast a warm glow over the assembly of nobles, their rich attire creating a sea of vibrant colors and shimmering fabrics. Music filled the air, and the scent of roses and fine food wafted through the room. Lords and Ladies of many houses could be spotted introducing themselves and greeting the royal couple.

Euphemia descended the grand staircase holding her brother's arm, feeling eyes turn toward her. Whispers and murmurs rose as she made her entrance, but she held her head high, her expression serene.

They moved gracefully through the crowd, exchanging pleasantries and smiles, determined to show no sign of the turmoil within. As they approached the throne where the king and queen were seated, they both did a deep bow to the couple. The young children of the royal couple returned a courtly nod, still visibly affected by the Dance that had impacted House Targaryen.

The winners of the tourneys were soon summoned, and they stepped forward to claim their appointed Queens of Love and Beauty. Each champion approached their chosen lady with a graceful bow, extending their hands to invite them for a dance. The room watched with bated breath as the tradition unfolded, the air thick with anticipation and admiration.

Euphemia stood at the edge of the gathering, observing the pageantry with a mixture of admiration and longing. She felt a tap on her shoulder and turned to find Cregan standing before her, his expression softened by a warm, earnest smile.

“Lady Tyrell,” he began, his voice steady and kind. “May I have this dance?”

She hesitated for a moment, memories of their previous discord lingering in her mind. But the sincerity in his eyes and the gentle strength of his presence reassured her. She placed her hand in his, and he led her to the center of the ballroom.

As they took their places, the musicians struck up a harmonious tune, and the dance began. Cregan guided her gracefully across the floor, their movements synchronized and fluid. The murmurs and whispers in her head faded into the background, leaving only the music and the rhythm of their steps.

“I owe you an apology,” Euphemia said softly as they danced. “I acted out of anger and grief, and I regret the rift it has caused between us.”

Cregan’s gaze softened, and he gave her hand a reassuring squeeze. “I understand. These are difficult times for all of us. But we are stronger together, and I want to put this behind us.”

She nodded, a sense of relief washing over her. “Thank you, my Lord. Your support means more to me than you know.”

As they continued to dance, the court watched in awe. The once turbulent rumors seemed to dissipate, replaced by admiration for Euphemia’s grace and poise. 

The dance ended, and Cregan bowed deeply to her. Euphemia returned the gesture with a graceful curtsy, her heart lightened by the reconciliation. And as they parted, Cregan noticed the smirks and snickers of his friends.

“Your time here has turned you into a true southerner, my lord,” one of them commented, his tone dripping with sarcasm.

“Good thing we’re returning home on the morrow,” Cregan replied, trying to maintain his composure as he chugged his wine, hoping to calm his nerves.

“She really has you in her grasp, doesn’t she, son? I’ve never seen you visibly shiver like that,” Lord Mormont added, his voice low and mocking.

“Can’t blame the lad. Have you seen her? In that piece of silk she calls a dress, she’s a living torment. I saw her today at the sept, praying like a good, devoted follower, while she carries herself as the embodiment of a siren at night.”

“Why are you lusting after her like a starved dog? She already has a thing with the Lannister,” a third friend chimed in, giving his friend a harsh push.

“What?” Cregan’s voice was sharp, his eyes narrowing .

“She apparently lived her childhood there as a ward. While there was never a confirmed betrothal to Leonore, everyone knows he’ll be the one to take her as bride.”

Cregan’s blood began to boil. Losing her meant losing the treaty for the North. That sly fox of Highgarden had misled him. Cregan could not hope for any aid if the marriage pact was not honored, and he couldn't take revenge anymore by marching his army across Westeros and the Reach to cleanse the lands of remaining supporters of the usurper. Blinded by rage, Cregan marched to Adlyn, his steps heavy with purpose, requesting a private word. Adlyn followed, his face a mask of concern, praying it had nothing to do with whatever his sister might have said.

“You liar,” Cregan hissed, his voice low but venomous.

“My lord?” Adlyn replied, his brow furrowing in confusion.

“The betrothal. With the Lannister,” 

“What? No, you misunderstand—” Adlyn began, but Cregan cut him off.

“You take me for a fool? You think you can just break your word to me and get away with it? I let you off the hook the first time, but now it is war.”

“What do you mean by bethroting the Lannister? If that is what you want with yourself, you can just go and ask Tyland and leave me be. I have little influence there, friend,” Adlyn said, his voice steady but his eyes betraying his unease.

Cregan’s hands itched to lash out at Adlyn´s fake innocence, to punch that pretty face, to burn his lands, to take his sister as a war prize, but he restrained himself, opting to finish this fight with the same fire the southerners played with.

“You lied to me about your sister’s hand. She is already set to marry the heir of Casterly Rock.”

“Leonore? No, no. I mean, Father intended for it, and I suppose if I hadn’t promised her to you, I would have given her to him, but there was no actual promise made to them. Cregan, she is yours, just as we discussed,” Adlyn said, his voice earnest, his eyes wide with sincerity.

“Then why do people still spread rumors of them?” Cregan demanded, his voice rising.

“This is court. People love to spark fights they can’t extinguish. Besides except for us and Crayn, there really isn’t anyone I have told,” Adlyn replied, his voice calming, hoping to soothe Cregan’s anger.

“She doesn’t know?” Cregan asked, his voice now quieter, but still tinged with anger.

“I wanted to tell her, believe me, but I feared making her upset. While a marriage with the house Stark is an honor, I suppose she preferred a marriage that wouldn’t drift her far from home. That’s why Father was keen on marrying her to the Lannister. She was a ward there, her dearest companion is his sister, and she and Leonore get along. It might have been a marriage filled with love.” he explained 

“Are you implying that I am responsible for an upcoming ruin in her life?” Cregan’s voice was low, dangerous.

“Possibly. But a marriage with Leonore would only serve her. I might have allowed that if I had many others in my house to make use of, but I don’t. My child is unborn, my brother is already married to the Hightower to keep Old Town under supervision. So, it is on her to do her part in serving our house and the realm,” Adlyn said, his voice firm but not unkind.

“What of the Lannisters?” Cregan asked, his voice softer now.

“They love her whether she is married to them or not, and therefore they love us. Furthermore, she’ll prevent bloodshed in their lands, so I think they owe her gratitude,” Adlyn explained, his voice calming, trying to diffuse the tension.

“So, when will you announce it? Our betrothal?” Cregan asked, his voice steady but demanding.

“I was hoping to depart with you to the North for the Great Harvest festival before the winter and announce it there. The later she knows, the easier she’ll accept it,” Adlyn replied, his voice steady but his eyes once again betraying his concern.

“I don’t care about you protecting your relationship with her. I want it announced tonight in front of everyone, or I’ll have His Grace announce it in your stead,” Cregan smirked, turning on his heel and leaving Adlyn with no chance to protest.

 —----------------------------------------------------

The grand hall was filled with the buzz of conversation and the clinking of glasses as the nobility of the kingdom gathered for the annual midsummer feast. Tapestries adorned the walls, and chandeliers cast a warm, golden glow over the assembled guests. Adlyn, standing at the head of the room, tapped his glass with a silver spoon, the chime drawing the room to a hushed silence.

"Ladies and gentlemen," Adlyn began, his voice carrying with the authority and ease of one accustomed to command. "I have an announcement of great importance to make this evening."

Euphemia, standing beside him, smiled politely, unaware of the storm about to break over her head. Her delicate fingers played with the edge of her gown, her mind wandering to the music and laughter echoing through the hall.

"Tonight," Adlyn continued, his eyes scanning the crowd before resting on Euphemia, "I am pleased to announce the betrothal of the Lord Hand Cregan Stark and the Lady Euphemia Tyrell."

The words hung in the air, heavy and unexpected. The hall erupted into applause and cheers, but Euphemia stood frozen, her smile faltering only for a moment. Inside, her heart raced and her mind struggled to process the shock, but she quickly composed herself, maintaining a calm and graceful facade.

Adlyn leaned in, whispering, "It is for the best, Euphemia. Please, trust me."

Euphemia's lips curved into a faint, practiced smile. She nodded subtly, acknowledging the congratulations of those around her, while a tempest of emotions churned within. Hurt, betrayal, and confusion welled up, but she swallowed it all, determined to uphold the decorum expected of her.

Cregan, who had been standing quietly by, looked at her with a mixture of triumph and concern. He reached for her hand, his grip firm and reassuring. "Euphemia," he said softly, "this union will strengthen our families and our kingdom. It is an honor."

Euphemia's eyes met his, her smile never wavering. "Of course, my Lord. I am... honored." Her voice was steady, though her heart was not.

The room's atmosphere remained jubilant, the guests blissfully unaware of the turmoil beneath Euphemia's composed exterior. She moved through the throng of well-wishers, accepting their congratulations with grace, while her thoughts spiraled inward.

"How could they decide this without me?" she pondered silently, her heart aching. "How could they assume I would agree without even asking?"

Her inner turmoil was a stark contrast to the celebratory air of the evening. The weight of the decision made on her behalf pressed heavily on her, but she knew better than to show discontent.

As the feast continued, Euphemia found a quiet moment to herself, stepping out onto a balcony overlooking the moonlit gardens. The cool night air was a balm to her heated thoughts.

Adlyn approached her, his expression softening. "Euphemia," he said gently, "I know this is sudden, but it is for the greater good."

Euphemia turned to him, her eyes glistening with unshed tears. "You could have asked me, Adlyn. You could have considered my feelings."

"I thought you would understand," Adlyn replied, his voice tinged with regret.

"I understand duty," Euphemia said quietly, "but I also understand respect. I wish you had shown me that."

With that, she turned back to the gardens, her calm exterior belying the storm within. She knew she would face the future and move on , but the wound of this night would not soon heal. 

For the rest of the night, Euphemia played her part perfectly, expressing her contentment with the marriage and sharing dances with Cregan that were all but stiff and cold. Each step was measured, each smile a mask. She even found a moment to approach the Lannisters, offering her apologies for any perceived slights and successfully earning their forgiveness. 

When the ball finally drew to a close, Euphemia excused herself, her facade cracking as soon as she was out of sight. She fled back to her chambers, the tears she had held back all evening finally spilling over. She collapsed onto the floor, weeping into the plush carpet, the weight of the night's betrayal too much to bear.

It wasn't until her lady-in-waiting, Liora, found her that she stirred. Liora gently helped her out of her uncomfortable gown and into bed. "My lady," Liora whispered, her voice full of concern, "you must rest."

Euphemia nodded weakly, her tears subsiding as exhaustion took over. "Thank you, Liora," she murmured, her voice hoarse.

As she finally drifted off to sleep, Euphemia clung to the hope that tomorrow would bring clarity, even as the pain of betrayal lingered in her heart.

Euphemia's sleep was sadly cut short by a harsh knock at her chamber door. Groggy and disoriented, she whispered for her guard, Ser Wayne, but received no answer. With trepidation, she stood and opened the door, only to find Cregan standing before her.

Cregan's gaze lingered on her for a moment, taking in her swollen eyes, a clear indication of her grief, and her nightgown, which left her in a somewhat indecent state. He quickly turned his back to her before speaking.

"The king wishes to see you," he said curtly. "The young man cannot seem to fall asleep. He has been plagued by nightmares," I assume. 

"And what can I offer my lord?" she asked curiously, fearing that the king wished for her to warm his bed

"Your singing," he replied, "I thought that might sedate him."

"Of course," she continued, relieved, "please allow me to fetch a proper gown and a chaperone."

"You think I will allow anyone else to witness the king in this state?" Cregan yelled quietly, turning back to her, taking off his coat and handing it to her. "You must come alone and now."

Euphemia hesitated but knew better than to argue. She took the coat and draped it over herself, its warmth providing little comfort but enough decency. As soon as she was covered, Cregan grabbed her wrist and led her through the dimly lit halls.

The journey felt interminable, each echoing step amplifying her anxiety. She struggled to keep pace with Cregan's brisk stride, her mind racing with worry of being caught and having her virtue but to question 

Finally, they reached the king's chambers. Cregan paused outside the door, his grip on her wrist loosening slightly. "Do your best to calm him," he instructed, his tone softer now. "The king needs his rest,"

Euphemia nodded, her heart aching with the sight of the troubled child. She gently stepped inside. The room was dimly lit, the flickering candlelight casting long shadows on the walls. The young king was huddled alone on the large bed, eyes wide with fear.

"Mother," the king's weary voice called from a nearby chair, his face etched with concern, mistaking her for his dead mother. "I miss you mommy."

Euphemia gave a small, respectful bow before approaching the bed. She sat down on the edge, cradling the boy and began to hum a soothing lullaby, her voice soft and melodic. The child's tense body began to relax, his eyes growing heavy as her song filled the room.

As she sang, Cregan felt a surge of tenderness. Despite having outgrown his childhood, Cregan felt yearning for joining them and laying his head on her tender breasts.

When the song ended, the king was sound asleep, their nightmares banished for the night. Euphemia stood and turned to the Cregan, who snapped from his absurd thoughts and gave her a grateful nod.

"Thank you, Lady Euphemia," he whispered. "You have done us all a great service."

With a final nod, Euphemia quietly left the room, Cregan followed her just outside, grabbed her wrist once again and escorted her back to her chambers, neither of them speaking a word. As they reached her door, he finally broke the silence.

"You did well tonight," he said, his voice devoid of its usual sternness.

Euphemia merely nodded, too exhausted to respond. She slipped back into her room, closing the door softly behind her. Alone once more, she allowed herself a quiet reflection before finally succumbing to sleep, hoping for a respite from the day's emotional upheaval.

[imagine-darksiders]

Hello! Hopefully caught you in a restful time. I just wanted to let you know that your writing is amazing! I neither knew what darksiders was nor cared until I stumbled onto your blog. I never played the games but the way you write the personalities of each person makes them feel alive! Like I'm talking to the people myself!

The way you write trauma is realistic and it pops up at random but amazingly along the flow that it feels both out of place and not! Reminding the reader that yes, this person is brave but they're still hurt and in no way in the optimum of sanity. Even though they're holding themselves together the way a realistic person does!

I got hooked! I never knew these characters and yet you made it so that I'll feel like I knew them all my life! I'm honestly itching to buy the game yet I'm scared that the creator of the game won't be able to reach your amazing characterizations.

Is the game truly that good? I'm a little scared to buy it then find that the game devolopers rushed it. If so, which game should I start with? Does it require a strong pc? X-box? I'm still unsure of using technology.

In all honesty, I'm trying to stop myself from writing a fanfic based on your fanfic. Though, it wouldn't be the same. I still have assignments to finish and I haven't been writing stories that much. Do you have any advice for new writer? Even ones about writing-work-life balance? Or, how to bring a character to life?

I'm mostly fantasising about the storyline in my head, and drawing doodles of it on whichever paper is closest to me.

Which brings me to your fantastic art! Your anatomy is amazing! The way your draw facial expressions makes it feel like they're talking around me in real life! The body types have a wide range that I don't see often and oh so thankfull to see!

From darksiders Death looking like death ran over him to darksiders Fury and the female maker twin looking like what one would expect a fighter and weapon maker would look like! Even the reader character looks amazing!

Would it be okay if I ended up following your timeline? I still don't know much about the game and most of the information I'm diffusing into my brain is from your writing.

I hope you well. With care, Illya💜.

Ah jeez, ‘are the games truly that good?’

I’m biased, so I’m going to say hell yes they’re good. They’re all so different too. I got the first game when it came out in 2010 and fell in love with the style and characters, so going into 2 I already had that love for the franchise. My advice is always to start with the first game. You get an introduction to the world, the story and the characters and it just feels more meaningful when you play the sequels. I had it on the Xbox 360, but it runs perfectly okay on any system. I don’t know if it runs on Macs though.

Alternatively, you could watch the cutscenes, but I personally never get as attached to the story if I’m not playing the game myself.

I’d be so unequivocally excited if people wrote fics based on my stuff. So long as it wasn’t like word for word, you know.

Advice for new writers? Obviously focus on your studies, they’re far more important. Which is rich coming from me, I’d write during lectures all the time. But I still managed a 1st so lol. Otherwise: Get a notebook and a pen, I write so much faster when I’m not doing it at a computer. Also, don’t get hung up about making the characters too oc, you’ll forever be fretting over that, just write them as naturally as you can and love doing it. Most of my writing I do in the evening when nothing is expected of me and I can get stuck in without getting distracted.

Use simple language in your first draft. Repeat words, don’t worry about saying the same thing for the first draft, so long as you get the chapter written out, you can fuss out the finer details later. I’m guilty of getting hung up on vocabulary.

Dude. I need to see those doodles.

You can follow my timeline, no worries. Darksiders isn’t mine, all I’ll say is I’d prefer if people didn’t try to write ahead of where CHWH is currently and claim that’s how the story should/does continue.

I’m so pleased you’re enjoying my writing and art, I’ve noticed your username popping up in my notifications a lot, and it gets me all excited like ❤️ 🌟🌈🥰✨💫🫠

[atinylittlepain]

Part One | The Hero

gator tillman x f!oc

series masterlist || series playlist

I am the shape you made me. Filth teaches filth. - Anne Carson, An Oresteia

wordcount | 5.2K

content warnings | 18+ this is a work of fiction exploring dark themes related to domestic abuse, corrupt government, physical/religious/psychological trauma, murder, canon-typical violence | dark smut, violent smut, verbal degradation, brief mention of sex work | gator is gross and toxic and what goes on in this fic is a depiction of a toxic, unhealthy dynamic | THESE ARE BAD PEOPLE DOING WRETCHED THINGS

a/n | been having fun working on this one. I can't emphasize enough that this is outside of canon, this is my construction of gator and what I think you'd find in a deeper exploration of him. This is, in part, a work of domestic and psychological horror which will become clearer as the story continues. special thanks to @pr0ximamidnight who is basically the only reason this idea didn't get scrapped.

..........................................................................

Towns like these aren’t hard to come by. Throw a dart in any direction in the midwest and you’ll hit a town like this one. She didn’t bother with the name, something home-baked and wholesome, without a doubt. No, when she was given this assignment, the only name she bothered with was Tillman. 

“So you’re his favorite dancer, huh?” 

“That depends on who’s asking, hon.”

“Someone who can offer you a little more than he can.”

“That’s a tall order, offering me more than he can.”

“Oh yeah? Can I ask how much he’s paying you?” 

“Hmm, lemme paint a picture for you. I’m naked, and Roy Tillman is rubbing bundles of hundreds on my tits. Does that answer your question?”

“You ever wonder where he gets all that money?” 

“So long as he keeps throwing it my way, I don’t really care. I know you’re new in town, sweetie, but a word of advice? It’s best not to question Roy Tillman. Now, do you want a dance? You’re so pretty I might just give you a deal on it.” Cherry red nails flickering like neon gods, but not touching, just grazing the side of her jaw as she tries for a polite curl to her lips when all she’d like to do is scream a few choice curses into the dim, dank smoke of the club. This isn’t the first time she’s been given that advice since she came to Stark County.

“That’s alright, thank you for your time.” The quick recoil of cherry red nails, and her friendly little companion is already flouncing away with a slumped sigh, sequins and skin shimmering beneath the fish-scale flicker of a depressing disco ball. She takes a sharp gulp of her drink, resigning herself to crossing another potential in off her list. 

The problem with men like Roy Tillman is they have a way of rallying a town into troops around them. He brings money, and brawn, and revived religion into the withered veins of a community, and the community in turn suckles on the gleaming mouth of his gun, fed and full and content to allow him to do whatever he wants. And so he does. And so someone like her has to come in and put a stop to it, though that is particularly difficult when no one seems too concerned with letting their bloated king continue his salacious sate. 

“Hi, ladies, you got some for me tonight, huh?” And for every king there is, of course, a prince. A painfully, stupid, inept and inane prince, drunk on power that isn’t even his, and probably will never be his. As far as she knows, Gator Tillman is something of a dress-up doll for his father to move and manipulate around the county, about as harmless as a fly without wings, fondling that gun he keeps in his thigh holster like a second dick and working a fine cloud of smoke around his head wherever he goes, something juvenile about that bright green vape of his. Prince, court jester, whatever way you slice it, the only attention she has paid to him since she got to town has been without a choice when he blusters into a place, so loud you can’t help but turn head and stare. 

“Hey there, Miss Lanie. Surprised to see a fine woman of the law such as yourself at an establishment like this. You lost?” Gator, she has found, has taken a particular shine to making his personal space her personal space. Ever since that first week she was out here and took a trip out to the Tillman compound, father and son in fine figure on the porch, son tucked into the long shadow of his father, telling her in no uncertain terms that her presence was unwelcomed, unneeded, and Gator had made a point of walking toe to her heel back to her car, ducking his head down to wish her a mighty fine day, ma’am, before she drove off. She thinks that he’s trying to fluster her, make her sway in some meaningful way with his schoolboy teasing. At best, it’s amusing. At worst, it’s another something, somebody, getting in her way. 

“I could say the same to you, deputy Tillman. And you know that’s not my name now, be a little smarter than that, else I might get bored.” He has the common sense to blow that sickly sweet vape cloud out of the side of his mouth where he has sidled up next to her at the bar, his face cast in mottled shadows from the thick throb of lights in the club, grin turned red. 

“Mel, that’s what your partner calls you, isn’t it? I’d say we’re on a first name basis by now. Or would you prefer agent Harris? Dad says the only fitting title for a woman is missus, but I have to say, I think I’m a little more open-minded about such things.” At the very least, a laugh over the rim of her glass, concealed by another bitter sip because she knows a boy like Gator collects his wins where he can, and isn’t soon to let go of them. 

“Uh-huh, how progressive of you.” It would be about now in this familiar routine that she would usually leave, an elbow placed pointedly in some soft part of him as she breezed by. She finds people like Gator to not even be worth repugnant, let alone evil. People like Gator are small, used air, sound and motion somewhere in the periphery of what really matters. But tonight, she’s tired, and frankly, she’s failing, and he’s a harmless pantomime of a tyrant. So she lets him play his part, head propped in hand propped on elbow propped on bar. 

“You have a man back in DC, huh? I bet he’s wondering where you’ve been for so long.” Blink, blink, she gives him no answer, just squints a little and keeps her lips pressed in a thin line, waiting to see how else he can flail when given the chance. And he doesn’t disappoint, a little bit of frenetic flair to it, takes another drag on his vape and turns cheek over his shoulder, bolstering morale with a glance at his pack who have all set their sights on the present display of skin and sequins on stage. When he faces her again, she thinks he might try to reach for her, something grasping in his face the dip and bob of his throat. But he knows better. He had put a hand on her back one day at the station, hadn’t even gotten out a Miss Lainie before she was turning heel and jamming her forearm into his windpipe. Yes, he knows better than to touch, but he does lean in, trying for meanness that just makes him look younger with the way it rounds his eyes. 

“Tell me this then, where is your partner? Been a while since I’ve seen him sticking his nose where it don’t belong. He didn’t abandon ship, did he?” Still fresh, still sore, he wins that one, and she knows that he knows he wins because she can’t hide her grimace at the mention of her partner. Well, the mention of the man who was her partner. The man who was called back to DC last week, a sure sign that the powers that be are coming to the end of their rope with this project. They had been out here, grasping at scraps of a paper trail going nowhere, trying to pin down the ghost of the ghost of Roy Tillman for two months, and nothing. She wouldn’t be surprised if she gets a phone call next week calling her back, tail between her legs and an I told you so waiting for her on her desk. 

She offers him no response, taking a deeper drink from her glass so she can have an excuse to pinch her face bitter. He laughs, clicks his tongue, a slick strand of hair bobbing loose with the shake of his head. 

“Well, that’s just not right, leaving you out here all by yourself. Some folks would take advantage of that, you know.”

“Hmm, and here I am wondering where all that midwestern nice everyone talks about is. I guess the time’s are changing.” She makes her grin match his, all fang, all sharps and brights. And she’s had enough, a headache starting to creep in around the edges and make everything a little fuzzy. The cool reality that she will most likely leave this place as she found it, with a man playing God, and the people letting him. She presses a palm into Gator’s  chest, enough of a shove to make him stumble a bit as she gets up from her stool, a clipped command to get away, don’t you have tits to look at? But he still follows her out through the sparse crowd and into the quick snap of cold air that fall in North Dakota seems made up of. Soon, snow, but for now, everything dying and freezing up in anticipation. 

She makes it to her car without paying much mind to his hemming and hawing, though he catches her door before she can close it. For a brief moment, she considers how hard she’d have to slam it to snap his dip-stained fingers clean off. 

“Now, Miss Lainey, just wait a minute. Sadly, I’m not just looking to flirt, I’ve been sent with some business to discuss with you.” The prince sent by the king, glowing and boldening under his father’s trust, she can see the little puff of pride in the way he wedges himself between her car door and where she’s sitting in the driver’s seat, taking up all the space, all the air, that pungent sweet sting of whatever vape flavor he’s sucking on this evening. He plays it up, enjoys that little smack of false power, close-lipped grin and leaning down with his forearm resting on the hood of her car. She remains still, unblinking, unphased, looking up at an overgrown boy. 

“You see, me and mine haven’t been too pleased with how you’ve been bothering folks around here. Asking all kinds of questions and such. It ain’t very polite, and we don’t care much for, uh, not politeness.” Curling her lips back into a snarl of a smile, tilt of her head, she settles the sole of her shoe on top of the toe of his boot, small warning, small something that makes him swallow thick when she presses down a little. 

“You and yours?” Little more pressure, little pinch, the muscle in her leg tensing and tightening with the force of it.

“That’s right.” Wavering prince, weakening prince, a little whimpering prince and she swears she can feel his toes squirming beneath the ball of her foot, pressing down hard now. What she’d like to do is change the angle so the thin point of her heel is what’s digging in sharp. But this will have to do, her smile spreading to show the whites of her teeth.

“Oh honey, the last time I checked, they weren’t yours at all. You were theirs.” She digs down a little more, small twist of the ball of her foot to get that grimace, that grunt of pain she was hoping for. In the cool wash of neon from the bar, his face has gone blotchy, burning up to the mottling tips of his ears. Not difficult now, he’s already stumbling back when she lets up the pressure of her foot, a simple point of her finger in the middle of his chest enough to get him out of her orbit. Slam of her car door and roll of her shoulders because, not that she’d admit it, but that felt a little good, little lick of pleasure in causing a bit of childish pain. 

She hates that it startles her, a little jump in her ribcage. But really, she should have expected nothing less from him. A fine streak of spit on her window, darkened and clouded by dip and punctuated by a slap of his palm on the hood of her car. She catches his grin, distorted by the dribbling splatter, bright white sliver tinged red in neon. A herculean effort, not to run over his foot when she drives away. 

They, the proverbial they, have her set up in a new development of condos twenty minutes away from the heart of Tillman’s domain. It’s white, and square, and sterile, and three stories up. She leans her forehead against the wall of windows and lets it feel like falling while she listens to a voicemail from her boss. Her boss, back in DC, and wondering what the fuck he did sending her out here, no doubt. He tells her as much. Tells her that she has until the end of November to get some real evidence in her hands, or else he’s pulling the plug. That or else looks like going back to DC with her tail between her legs. It looks like a cubicle, looks like clerical work, drowning in the archives until her boss decides that she’s learned her lesson, to keep her mouth shut, and her head down, to not get creative, to not get bold. 

Until the end of November, two weeks to get something, anything, on Roy Tillman, or else. Or else looks like a man playing god, being allowed to continue his game, allowed to keep a whole town on its knees. And his son, his ridiculous, willful, repugnant dog of a son settled at his father’s feet, fed scraps of power and happy for it. 

Bad people, turned sideways people. She knows what they are. And her badge and her gun and even her cubicle back in DC make her good, one of the good ones, the ones that are supposed to get the bad people, turned sideways people. And she intends to. She needs to, really. Needs something she can hang onto like a trophy. Young blood, fresh in the department, fresh out of school, and trying to make something for herself, something she can point to when the rest of the suits raise their brows at her presence. She needs a win, and she’s going to get it, and it’s going to be Roy Tillman’s head framed in a mugshot. 

…

“Are these the records from 2019?”

“That should be all of them, yes ma’am.” Desperate times and all, she’s resorted to drastic measures, nodding a thank you to the officer who dredged up these boxes of arrest records for her. Roy has been known to arrest his own to teach them lessons when they’re starting to shake ranks, and she’s hoping to find old wounds, potential traitors turned informants. 

She hasn’t slept much in the last week. A week since her boss gave her that ultimatum. A week of scrambling for whatever loose ends she could find, threads fraying to film wherever she turned. She hasn’t found a thing. No trail to follow, no willing witness to speak, no evidence of anything. And the most frustrating part of all, the need for evidence seems foolish given how obvious it is. It is campaign season, after all, and Roy Tillman has been out with his crew in fine flare lately. 

Here is what makes up a king and his kingdom. In the past week, five bodies found between here and Fargo. Accidents, they ruled them. So many accidents making up a king and his kingdom. In the past week, six traffic jams caused by Tillman and his thronging brigade of DIY armored cars, the mouths of guns winking out of the windows, American flag bleeding blue and red in a blaze behind them. So much artifice, so much brute force making up a king and his kingdom. One wife, Roy’s wife, sent to the hospital with a popped eye socket. She had tried to go speak to her, and his wife, gruesome blue and black sneer, had kept her busted lips pressed in a thin line. So much brute force indeed. A king and his kingdom. And she is scrambling to find any crack, any slippage to stick her fingers into and make bleed. And now, she only has two weeks left.

The local station hasn’t exactly been welcoming to her, most of the officers knit tight and quiet in Tillman’s ranks, weary glances and outright snarls when she first came in. Most have become tiredly used to her presence in that empty office space, broom closet more like it. Only a few, however, have been cooperative, let alone friendly. Officer Peters happens to be one of those few. 

“You really don’t have to help, you know. I’m probably going to be here all day looking through these.” He hikes the two boxes of records he’s hefting up a little higher in his arms, shrug and smile, and it’s a relief everytime he does that for her. 

“No, no, I’m happy to help. Not much to do around here with, well, you know.” Well, you know. The police in Stark county are something of an empty promise. All the power lies with Roy’s quasi-militia anyways. 

“Well thank you, Dave, I appreciate it, really.” A little bit of kindness, of decency, she is finding, goes a long way for her in a town where she is clearly not welcomed, though that feeling is short-lived, their progress toward that office space halted when another set of hands grab a hold of the box of records she’s carrying.

“Where you going with all this, Miss Lainey? A lady like yourself shouldn't be doing such heavy lifting. Pussy Peters, you really couldn’t manage hauling one more box there? C’mon now.” She smells him before she gets a good look at him, synthetic strawberry haze that churns her stomach. 

On a good day, she would shove the box forward hard enough to make him stumble out of her way, not sparing him another look. This is not a good day. This is a tired day, a failing day, an at the end of a frayed rope day. She stops long enough for him to take it as an invitation to continue running his mouth, all garish grins as his eyes shift between her and Officer Peters, still holding onto the box of records, enough for it to be a tug on her own arms.

“Say, Dave, saw your wife at church last Sunday. She sure looks pretty on her knees. Oh wait, that was after church.” It’s plainly embarrassing for everyone, an awful, stupid and shameless thing to say. Dave scoffs, a quiet alright, Gator before he shoulders past them while at the same time, something is beginning to snap inside of her, a silent snarl. Gator’s smile falters when all she does is stare at him, lips pressed in a thin line. Tough boy turned a fool under her gaze, he shrinks and smalls, clearing his throat and loosening his grip on the box of records enough that she can wrench them away from him. The only sound is the hard click of her heels as she shoulders past him to join Officer Peters in their makeshift office. 

That something snapped starts to shimmer into anger. Sick with it, with all of it. With this town, and these people that speak like this, act like this, carry on like this. As if watching herself from over her shoulder, she’s excusing herself from the office just as soon as she sets the box down, a strange look on Dave’s face, though she’s already turned heel and made her way out into the hall. 

He’s leaning up against the wall, smoking that vile thing, and he shouldn’t be, and it just makes her angrier, shoulders squared as she comes to stand in front of him. Silent for a moment, a puzzled pull to his brows, the quick dip and rise of his eyes, and though he opens his mouth to speak, the only sound that comes out is a high-pitched yelp when she uses the sharp point of her heel this time to drive her foot down over his until she hears something crunch, a little dig back and forth and it makes him keen.

Perfect posture of pain, he keels over with a groan, easy enough to grab him by the nape of his neck and haul him in his hunch down the hallway to the office. Dave looks up, stricken and shocked from where he had already started to sort through the records and she brings Gator right to his feet. She gets a better grip in the back of Gators’ slicked hair to pull him upright. His eyes are scrunched shut, still grimacing in the shock of pain, little whimpers puffing out on each of his exhales. And she likes it, feels good about it. The first thing she’s felt good about in a while, if she’s being honest, a smile threatening as she leans in to speak into his ear. 

“You’re going to apologize to Officer Peters, do you understand?” Little tug, little sharp pull of his neck when he doesn’t answer, and then Gator’s breathing out a yes, yes, ma’am and she likes that too, drinks that down and lets it simmer somewhere sickening inside her.

“Now.”

“I’m sorry.” Not good enough, said with a whine. She tugs a little harder at his hair, pulling his spine into a strung, snapping line while he winces.

“Mean it.”

“Fucking– I’m sorry, I’m sorry, please!” She likes please, didn’t even know she was looking for please, but it almost feels better than the apology she was originally looking for. She would like more please from him. But for now it’s catch and release, he’s limping out of the office the instant she lets go of his hair, and she’s left simpering under Dave’s bewildered stare, fear of god widened eyes and jaw dropped in wonder, or horror, or both. 

Quick shake of her shoulders, shaking something sick and simmering out, and quick heat between her palms with a clap, away from whatever that was and back into these interminable boxes of records. Ready to get to work? Yes. Yes.

By the time they’re finished it’s already mottling blue outside and her eyes are starting to blur and sting. Nothing, no one that hadn’t turned up dead in the last two years, at least. Stiff joints that stay curled into themselves, she hobbles with Dave down into the basement to put the boxes back, blinking hard in the fluorescent light. Not a clue where to go or what to do next and she’s too tired to care much about it, thanking Dave and shrugging into her coat and pressing her fingers into her eyes to rub out the blur before she steps out into the fading light. 

“Hey.”

“No.”

“Hey.”

“No. Go home, Gator. Get some new marching orders from daddy, why don’t you?” She’s satisfied to see that he’s still limping a little, though that squelches and squirms into frustration when he continues to limp toward her. It’s a little slapdash routine she has no interest in being a part of, she opens her car door an inch only for him to slap his palm against it to slam it shut again, back and forth once, twice, three times before she starts to really consider pulling her gun on him, settling instead for another planned assault on his foot. Maybe she’ll break something this time, if she’s lucky. But before she can make contact he’s jerking back, palms up in a shrinking surrender. 

“You’re not gonna find anything, you know, not in there. He keeps things clean.” It’s perhaps the most earnest she’s ever seen him, words said quick on a single exhale like he’s getting away with something by saying them. It makes her pause, makes something slacken, watching the nervous pinch between his brows deepen.

“Uh-huh, and you’re telling me this why exactly?” Whatever that was, it’s already gone, he’s already settling back into the muzzle  his father stitched for him, shift of his eyes and shrug, working his jaw like he has to chew on his words. 

“Just trying to save you some time, Miss Lainey. Not as pretty when you’re tired.” That slick grin, slimed grin of his, and something is pulling sharp and snarling inside her again, a quick flood of anger that she tries to tamp down with a thin smile of her own. He’s not worth all the paperwork it would cause. 

“Right, you have a good night, Gator.” 

“Now just wait a minute–” And that simmering thing, snarling thing, finally bursts. Two months of shoveling through cow shit and coming up with nothing. Two months of people like this, men like this, who won’t even look her in the eye, who have been waiting for the day she leaves just as soon as she showed up. Some foolish part of her thought she’d arrive and play the hero. She knows better now.

 She’s just tired enough, failing enough, that she lets that anger curdle and break inside her. When he reaches for her car door this time, she doesn’t stop herself from grabbing his wrist, using an unsuspecting amount of strength to twist him around until he’s pressed up against the side of her car and she’s pulling on his arm behind his back enough to make his breath pitch and fail. 

“I’ve had enough of you, and your father, and this fucking town that’s too stupid to see that they’re getting fucked every which way you bastards can think of.” He squirms in her grip and she just bears down more, pressing the line of her body up against the back of his to keep him still, twisting his arm a little further, waiting for the pop and squelch of his loosening shoulder socket should he try anything else. His breath comes out as opaque puffs in the cold air, broken whines, eyes pinched shut from what she can see. And she likes it. This, something she can control, cause and effect, pain made real in her palms. Somewhere in the back of her mind, this is wrong, wretched, but the anger and the sheer force of it feels too good. 

“Do you know what you are, Sheriff Tillman?” A little more pull, a little more pinch, pressing him further up the side of her car and he shakes his head, frantic, no, no, no. Crystalline tears threatening along his dark lashes, shaking loose to smear down his cheeks, pale blue in the oncoming night. 

“You’re a dog. You’re worse than a dog. You’re a dog’s dog. You’re a fucking mutt begging for scraps. You think you’re something, don’t you? A fucking nuisance wherever I go since the day I showed up. You’re nothing, is what you are. Nothing. You’re–” At first, she isn’t sure what he’s doing. Strange enough to give her pause, his hips stuttering and jerking against the car and those broken grunts of pain preening out into something else entirely. And just as suddenly she realizes the terrible reality of what she has done, and what he is now doing, ruinous and wretched and so very wrong. 

Her hands tremble where they slacken, letting go of him and taking a stuttering step away. She feels like she’s going to be sick, like some hot shame is pumping and contracting in her muscles, making her weak and sideways, swaying where she stands. He turns around the instant she lets go, leaning back against her car, a doll slumped, no longer being played with, his eyes wide and shimmering wet, lips parted in a voiceless wonder. 

“Why’d you stop?” His voice pitches and breaks. It’s a boy’s voice, young voice, and it makes her stomach churn awful, acrid. Awful, because he means it, because he wanted that pain, that fear, whatever that was that she just did. She doesn’t say anything because she can’t, because something has turned to ice inside her, numb and unfeeling, barely managing to take a jerked step back when he steps toward her. And the parking lot is empty except for them, and the night has come on like a heavy fog, and the world turns into a blue smear when her heel catches on chipped asphalt and she’s falling, and she’s falling, and there’s stinging grit in her palms and an ache in her body and she’s on the ground looking up into the face of a frightened boy, a fallen, foolish prince, pathetic. 

She lets out a garbled shriek when he reaches for her again, willing muscle and sound into a singular command of don’t, do not that stops him in his tracks, his palms wide and stark white, surrender. Unblinking, she keeps her eyes on him, held frozen in a gaze as she rights herself, a little hunched, a little curled snarl through her body when she stands. 

He looks bewildered, no regret or remorse, just that pall of confusion, of uncertainty. And it clicks for her because of course. Of course, that felt right to him. That pain felt right to him. She knows what he is, what he comes from. She’s seen the ex-wive's files, murals of pain inflicted on their bodies, broken birds in a broken cage. Mercy that they escaped. But the prince was not so lucky. Something maybe even worse for the prince. He likes the cage. So of course, the pain and the words and the tears. He was raised on poison milk. Of course, the pain feels good.

“Go home, Gator.” 

“I–”

“I said go home. I’m done.” For perhaps the first time, he listens to her, shrinks back, face washed in shadows with the tuck of his chin, a boy again. She doesn’t look at him, she can’t. Heat floods behind her eyes, washing everything in a weary haze, streaks of light and dark when she finally drives away. 

The seams hold long enough for her to drive back to her all cold, all white apartment, all sharp and all lines and all sterile, stark. And when she does get home, but not really home, not even house, but when she does, she splits into pieces. She cries, and she shakes, and she curls over herself, head in hands. She is failing. 

Awful, all this filth, this king and his wretched domain, cobbled together with lies and guns and a bible. Built upon broken bodies. And awful, the people like it. Awful, she isn’t the savior. She’s a thorn in the belly of this terrible beast of a town, and nothing more. 

But what is perhaps most awful is that for a moment, for a breath, in that parking lot with that foolish, flimsy prince, she was a part of it too. She liked it too. Filth, too.

[bunnygirllover45]

hi. this is not a question per se but more like a comment. it is completely unrelated to everything, I just wanted to say thank you. this may sound completely stupid, but I am a trans man and I suffer from chest dysphoria. I bought a binder and even though it made me feel a lot better, but I realized that my chest was not completely flat. before, I was always like "I need to have a flat chest or I die." I still have some chest volume, that is very minimal, but it is there. days passed and watching your oc (the batshit male one, I love him) not having a complete flat chest despite being a guy made me feel a lot more secure on myself.

I've seen plenty of guys that were assigned male at birth (and even ones assigned female at birth but with complete confidence even without a completely flat chest), both real life people and fictional characters, and they have made me more confident. you've helped with that, so I wanted to say thanks.

also. your art is pretty and your style is unique. don't ever stop what you're doing.

sorry for the long text. you don't have to answer this, I just wanted you to read it. I hope you have a very nice day, night, or whatever moment of the day you're on. :)

Oh dear,, this is really cute. I understand this issue a lot, I've been dealing with dysphoria too for years, no matter how much I tried I always felt like I would never feel comfortable in my own skin. I don't wanna get too personal, but I still deal with those feelings every day, sometimes I wish I wasn't born like I was. Let me tell you something anon, gender is a fucking excuse to label things for marketing purposes, you can be whoever you want. I know it's hard not to think "I shouldn't have this" or "My body should be like that" ( I deal with those thoughts often too.) just to fit an imaginary list of attributes a gender should have invented by society that doesn't understand your struggles, you feel like a man? then you're one! It's okay if you still don't like some parts about yourself, hell, I hate some of mine too; do anything that makes you feel better, that really makes you feel like you belong there, in your own body. I'm really happy my art helped you. I hope you have a very nice day too, thanks for taking the time to send me this. And remember, you're handsome! you're valid, you're doing your best, and most of all, you're you, the most genuine and beautiful form of you.

[cherubdisorder]

what are your boundaries regarding oc’s? like selfshipping, headcanons ect?

I’ve been thinking about this for a bit now since I never really expected people to be that interested in my characters so!

I think I’m rather chill with what I’m ok with and what I don’t like, but when it comes to self shipping I basically just don’t want people to make any lewd content or just NSFW of them. I really don’t care if you wanna get married to like posca or anything, if that brings you comfort then it’s all fine by me! I just don’t want to see anything related to NSFW.

I also do kindly ask for people to respect each other if they do happen to like the same character!!! Pls don’t fight each other !!!! I remember that was a big issue back in the day so pls be nice. Sharing is caring after all

Outside of that, for HC’s I also don’t have a lot to say besides that I don’t want my characters to have anything biggoted or hateful or just really nasty connected to them (( like having a HC where one of my characters is like. Idk a Nazi. Pls don’t do that )) I also ask to not give my characters like…any fetishes or paraphillias…but I assume that’s kind of basic knowledge!

But if you want to assign a character an illness you have or anything along those lines that completely fine! (( like for example chu chu has adhd, that’s all cool!)) as long as your respectful about the topic!

Oh and one last maybe a bit silly thing to mention but something I do find a little important…chu chu and posca are best friends and they’re kind of the only 2 I ask people to not ship if that makes any sense! I normally really couldn’t care less about this but they’re basically like siblings. I’ve seen a lot of questions about it so now you know!

There might be some things I’m missing in here but this basically covers the ground rules, if I’m ever uncomfortable with anything I will let you know.

I hope that all makes sense and is not too strict, I’m only really asking for the bare minimum! At the end of the day it means a lot that people enjoy my work and it means a lot to me that people feel so connected to it.

[where-the-wind-travels]

giselle & her timeline ✦ edits by me

if you don't know who giselle is, she's a transfem version of aiden i came up with for a hss au (the same au my oc darlene comes from, she's also dating darlene) that i've had in mind for quite some time but never really posted about it

also, hope yall don't mind that i literally just used a dakota winchester base for her 😭 i did think about using aiden for upper face and dakota for lower face, but i feel like just this base would make a great f!aiden feel free to correct me if i'm wrong

(under the edits are a lot of semi drabble headcanons that i swear i didn't mean to write that long but i couldn't stop myself 😭)

book 2, winter formal outfit —

(here koh had been helping her physically transition all the way since book 1, but i'm starting from book 2 because that's when she comes out to her parents, meaning the winter formal is the first time she ever wears feminine clothing in public)

Giselle: "Everyone... hope I'm not late."

Darlene: [jaw drops] "Gi, you look like..."

Emma: "...a princess."

Myra: "A literal princess! Girl, you look like you're 5 seconds away from singing about letting it go." [Giselle rolls her eyes at Myra]

Michael: "Where'd you even get that dress from?"

Giselle: "Ah, this is my mom's prom dress from the 90s. She heard the words winter formal and begged me to try it on. I told her 'no, mom, it's fine, I can wear a suit if you want me to', since... you know, she's not used to seeing me in stuff like dresses and skirts yet, but she practically shoved me into this dress."

Darlene: [holding Giselle's hand] "She made the right choice."

book 3, spring casual appearance —

Giselle: "I... tried doing something with my hair. I hope it looks good, because I really don't want to go back to my old hair."

Caleb: "It does look good on you, but why the face?"

Giselle: [surprised] "What face?"

Maria: "You don't really look like you like it. Do you regret getting your hair done?"

Giselle: "No, it's not the hair..."

Emma: "Then what is it? Your clothes?"

Giselle: [nods] "Mmhm. My parents bought me these. I don't want to be ungrateful because... my parents support me enough to buy me clothes, and there are plenty of trans kids out there whose parents don't even want them in their home. But..."

Darlene: "But what?"

Giselle: "I don't like this style they're assigning me. It reminds me too much of my old self. And I don't just want to be the same person I was before, but in girl form."

Sydney: "Are you saying you'd like to try a new style?"

Darlene: "You'd look good in anything, Gi. No matter if it's girly, tomboyish, alternative, or even country girl."

Myra: [laughs] "Imagine that... 'Yeehaw, my captain!'"

Michael: "Myra, cowboys don't have captains. That's pirates."

Giselle: [giggles] "Ezra is trying to get me to join the dark side and turn into a grunge girl. I don't think I want that, really, but I do feel like I want to make a statement now... Is there an alternative style that's girlier but still eye catching, without any spikes or chains or ripped fishnets?"

Maria: "...I think there is."

book 3, prom outfit —

Cameron: "Giselle! Hey, wait up!"

Giselle: "Huh? Ah, hey there. What did you need?"

Cameron: "Nothing much, I just wanted to congratulate you."

Giselle: "Me...? What for?"

Cameron: "What not for? You're one of the strongest and most talented people I know. I might have known you for only three months, but I know this year has been a wild ride for you. You've been through pretty much everything and still manage to come out on top. I'm... really proud of you."

Ezra: "We all are."

Giselle: [blushes] "Oh, I... thank you... Normally I like compliments and-- and even look for them myself, but I just... don't know what to say for this one." [Cameron and Ezra laugh]

Cameron: "I have to say, you're kind of my role model. Not just because of all your talents in band, but also, I wish I could've figured myself out like you did. It took me years to figure out my identity, let alone how I wanted to present myself."

Giselle: "Speaking of that... I'm sorry, everyone, but I've been thinking about this for a while, and I... don't think I want to be in band anymore."

[everyone's jaw drops]

Myra: "What?! Girl, what's gotten into you?"

Giselle: "Don't get me wrong, I still love music! Who would I be if I didn't? But... composing, instruments, band, I want to leave all of that behind. I don't know if permanently... I hope not, but at least for now I want to focus on something else."

Ezra: "Something else as in what?"

Giselle: "...Promise you all won't laugh? [everyone nods] Well, as in... performance? Not performing as in playing songs, but performing as in--"

Cameron: "Dancing?"

Giselle: "Mmhm. When the year started, I was not only super insecure of myself but also an awful dancer, and Darlene helped me with both of those things. I want to try incorporating it into my life... for her and for myself."

summer break appearance —

Giselle: "Hey everyone! I brought popsicles."

Darlene: "Oh... my."

Sydney: "That is the most sparkly outfit I've ever seen you in."

Myra: "And also the most pink. I thought you didn't even like pink, what happened to you?"

Giselle: [shrugs] "Maybe I was just in the mood for something different. Remember spring quarter, when I told you all about wanting to find my style and all that? Well... I'm pretty sure I found it."

Emma: "You did? Please tell us all about it, Gi!"

Giselle: "So I'm reading about this fashion subculture that lets girls go all out. I'm talking super flashy clothes and hair, so many cute accessories, and their makeup is so pretty... they even have hangout spaces just for them!"

Sydney: "Really?"

Giselle: "Yeah, it's called gal... I can't believe I didn't know this existed before! Now I want to become one, and I'm not sure where to even start."

Michael: "Giselle, you're drooling."

Maria: "No, she's not."

Michael: "But she's about to be if no one stops her."

class act appearance —

[just-a-whumping-racoon-with-wifi]

sooo I have some questions about mason becuase he seems like a really interesting character. Also it was kind of funny how he’s fine with beating up or electrocuting a pet but the second someone lets them go online or gives them slightly lax rules, he’s like oh no this poor sweetheart, this is so sad😞 . Would he punish a pet for panicking a lot or getting freaked out easily? Or what if a pet was transgender? Would he tell them they were just being silly or would he actually listen to them? What if a pet saved his life? Would he be grateful?

Thank you for the interest!! Mason is what I like to call an evil therapist with a HEALTHY dose of condescension.

Would he punish a pet for panicking/freaking out easily?

Not necessarily, it depends on why the pet is scared. If there is something genuinely stressful going on (getting a new owner, tension in the home, medical, even something like a thunderstorm) he would not punish them. In his mind, that is not willful disobedience. They are scared, they are stressed, and pets are simple creatures that struggle to regulate themselves. That is part of the owners job. If the panic stems from like a panic disorder, Mason is incredibly sympathetic of that. He would train the pet with calming exercises they can use and suggest medication if needed.

If he gets the vibe the panic is an act of manipulation, that will be punished.

What if a pet saved his life? Would he be grateful?

Very! But it wouldn’t change anything. You know those news stories of dogs dragging children out of fires or cats alerting parents that the child was having a medical emergency? He’d see it like that. He’d absolutely thank the pet and do an interview on the news but in the end the pet is still just a pet.

And this one was a fascinating question Nonny!!! I did put it under the cut because of some transphobia, however I mostly just talk about gender in my worldbuilding. Perhaps gatekeeping or delusion is a better term but the end result is transphobia so I’m gonna warn as such.

What if a pet was transgender? Would he tell them they’re just being silly or actually listen to them?

It should be emphasized again that Mason does not believe pets are human. He does not think they are people. You cannot change his mind, he is stuck in this delusion.

… you know what. I don’t think Mason believes pets know what gender is. In a way he sees them as toys or dolls, and he is the one making decisions about what they wear. If he thinks Rudy would look cute in a dress he’d just buy Rudy a dress. Rudy does not get a choice in what he’s wearing, not in any meaningful way.

If a pet (for some reason lmao) came to him and said they’re trans, he might laugh and say “from what?” He’d also ask where they even heard that and likely dismiss it as “that’s something for humans. You don’t need to worry about it.”

I mean, also in this world I’ve created literally what WOULD gender mean to a pet? There are no specific gender roles or expectations- they’re all just pets. And sterile. There’s no social influence of how they’re supposed to be acted based on their assigned gender at birth. Oh for sure they have expectations but they’re all based on their “class” for a lack of a better term.

Fuck me my ocs should have way more weirdness with their gender identity after being freed. That would be so bonkers to go from a world where it doesn’t exist to where it dictates everything.

(Also in the end this still ends up having a lot of my own feeling and opinions about gender in it. Your characters are the biggest fucking snitches every time. Honestly I have tussled with gender specific stuff for a while but it’s mostly based in religious trauma. I’m trying to sort it out but it’s a complicated ever changing messy thing. Idk. Slowly chipping away at it. I’m saying this to be transparent and as a plea to not be abrasive. I don’t expect it but I am fucking delicate sometimes and need to explicitly explain why I do or think the things I do. Is this too raw for a post on tumblr.com about my silly little ocs? Yes absolutely. Should i delete this part? yes. Will I?)

[florencemtrash]

The Wisp Between Worlds

CHAPTER ONE: BLACK WATERS

Acotar fanfic/rewrite. Inner Circle x OC. Eventual Azriel x OC.

Summary: Have you ever wondered what you would do (and do differently) if you found yourself trapped in the fantasy world of your dreams? For Nora, this fantasy of hers is about to play out when she finds herself portaled away to the Moral Lands south of Prythian. But all is not as it seems. Feyre Archeron is missing and the deadline to break Amarantha’s curse draws near. Who will save Prythian now?

Warnings: None for this chapter that I can think of, but expect angst, death, and sadness in the future.

Masterlist

________________

She needed to get outside. Callahan Barge was too tall, too sweaty, and too business casual for the kind of night she wanted to be having. Makeup swam down her skin cutting brilliant blue rivers down the tan of her cheeks. When she’d last caught a look at herself in the dusty bathroom mirror she’d been shocked and intrigued at the wide, kohl-lined eyes that stared out from beneath the glitter and paint. Lauren had decked her out in a skimpy, shimmering black dress, fish-net stockings, and the accompanying makeup to “let her live out her party fairy fantasies.” After all, she deserved to dress the part for her first Halloween as a 21-year-old. But that well-deserved fantasy took a hit when Callahan, cosplaying as an aspiring accountant (as per usual), started flirting with her at the bar.  

“Why don’t I buy you a drink?” his perfect white teeth gleamed in the UV light of the club glowing almost as brightly as the white button-down shirt he wore.

“I’ve got one already.” She stared directly in his eyes, taking a sip of the fruity mocktail the bartender had shaken up for her. He eyed the drink in her hands and she raised her eyebrow, daring him to make a comment. She was the designated driver for the night and the strongest liquid currently sloshing around in her cup was lemonade, but he didn’t need to know that.

“A second drink then?”

“No.”

He fiddled with his wrist watch, visibly flustered. “So about your thesis-” He began, desperately trying to spark a conversation.

“I have to go find my friends.”

“Oh right,” he pushed back his golden waves, “well hey, if you’re free after-”

Nora ducked behind the body of a passing security guard who’d been alerted to the sound of retching towards the right of the bar. Slipping nimbly through the crowd she tried to ignore the prodding of elbows and the occasional misplaced grinding of hips. Callahan was a nice guy, the kind that would have a position at Goldman Sachs by January and a 401k set up by May. The problem was he didn’t seem to understand why being randomly partnered with Nora for a creative writing assignment was enough grounds for a relationship. 

Fuck this. Nora thought to herself after five minutes of circling the lower and upper levels of the club. It would be impossible to find Lauren and Garett in this crowd and calling was pointless. The music raged from the speakers so loudly she could feel the bass rattling her bones.

She made her way towards the back doors, pressing against the sticky handle and sighing when the rush of cold, autumn air whisked the moisture from her skin. The wind carried the scent of the sea across the boardwalk. She breathed it in, having forgotten what air smelled like when it hadn’t been circulated through hundreds of drunken, jerking bodies. 

I’ll be outside for a bit. Let me know when you guys are ready to leave. 

With a whoosh the message was sent and she tucked the phone back into her pocket, wrapped her arms around herself, and made her way down to the pier. 

Aside from the handful of people smoking around the lamp post’s pool of light and the couple grappling at one another on a bench, the pier was empty. Nora kept her head down to give them all their privacy and walked to the edge, staring out at the inky black waters. She couldn’t see three feet past where the last lamp post feebly flickered, but she heard the licking of waves against the rocks, growling and slurping like some hungry creature.

Salt opened up her airways, leaving its distinct taste in her mouth and a faint burn in her lungs. It was in moments like this where she let herself wonder, truly wonder, about what would happen if she simply stepped over the edge and let herself get swallowed up.

You’d probably break your legs against the rocks you idiot. 

The thought of flailing about in the cold waters waiting for someone like Callahan to fish her out like a wet rat made her cringe.

I’d never actually do it. Stupid Freudian death drive.

It was just something she wondered about. What if there was something that was waiting for her? What if she was just wasting time waiting for the big thing to come along?

And what would that big thing be? 

Who knows.

And if it never comes?

Shut it.

Nora scolded her midnight thoughts. This was supposed to be a night of mindless fun and dancing and here she was standing alone in the cold being philosophical. But just as she turned away from the water a gust of wind brushed up against her back. No, not the wind… something else. A presence hovered over her shoulder, calming but unfamiliar as it traced down her spine. 

She froze, too scared to scream and too curious to move. Squinting her eyes she couldn’t make out any figures on the boardwalk or along the pier. She was alone.

Before she could make the executive decision to start sprinting back to the club, she heard it. Faint whispers curled around her ears, wrapping her in phantom arms until she could no longer feel the chill. Through the dozens of voices that called out to her in a mess of sounds and unintelligible words, one stood out. 

Low and silky and sensitive it asked, Where are you? Tell me where you are. Please.

Nora blinked.

The boardwalk faded away from her. She could still catch the faint outlines of the lamp post and railings, but more concretely she saw a room. Thick black curtains drifted along some invisible wind framing a brilliant city beyond that glowed like a thousand candles. The night sky was so crisp and clear she could make out every star.

She blinked again, readjusted her contacts, and it was gone. She was still on the pier alone and her vulnerability sent a shiver down her spine. 

The presence remained with her, breathing down her neck. She still couldn’t decide if she was afraid or not.

Wait… Run. RUN! The voice commanded her, barely a whisper in her ear despite the urgency of its words. 

Somewhere in the water far beyond where the light could reach, she felt a stirring, like the earth was rolling onto its side beneath her feet. A loud, low moan pulsed through the air and the pier’s wooden beams groaned in turn, protesting whatever force had begun to bend and snap them like toothpicks. 

Nora turned on her heels and started to run.

Fifty meters later and she was cursing her body, feeling the warmth in her legs build as she forced them to go faster. Breathe along to your favorite song, Nora. Dad had said that to her before every cross country race in high school. She was a shit runner then and she was a shit runner now. 

God I wish I kept running in college.

Another beam closer to her broke with a scream and Nora was thrown to the ground, landing awkwardly on stinging hands and knees as the water split open and began swallowing the pier. Like a beast it chomped at the wood, slurping the contents down into its throat. She dared a glance behind her and gasped as cracks formed along the surface of the ocean, blue-white light spilling outward. 

Scrambling to her feet she continued to run feeling the ground beneath her tilt further and further backward. The cracks deepened, crashing against wood. With a final sigh the last of the beams beneath her feet gave away, sinking into the mouth of the blue chasm below.

Nora screamed, lunging to the side to avoid the spear of wood that erupted by her legs. Cold water drenched her clothes, weighing her down as she was plunged into the frothy, glowing water. 

The pier had snapped in two. 

What are you doing you fucking idiot? Scream. She thought to herself. But even though she screamed, first in fear and then in frustration, no one heard her.

Nora gasped as the blue light finally reached her, wrapping around her body. She wished she had the mind to appreciate its beauty, but all she could think about was the terror that fueled her muscles to keep swimming, even as the current dragged her further down.

“HELP!” 

She begged anyone who might still be on the pier. She prayed to God, pleaded with the voice that had tried to warn her. 

No one’s coming to help. No one could help even if they wanted to.

Nora looked back, helpless as the water consumed her.

When her body had sunk beneath the depths - deeper than anyone could fathom - the portal sealed itself and there was nothing left but the ruined pier and the silent lamp posts as witnesses.

________________

Author’s Note: Hi! As the summary already mentions, this is going to be an acotar rewrite with an OC that’s really just a cooler, more competent version of myself that I like to insert into every book I read. It’s been over a year since I finished reading the main trilogy so apologies if I don’t get the plot/plot elements exactly right (but also I might change the plot to better suit the story). I don’t know how many chapters this will be yet, but I have a small chunk of it already written and am hoping to get some regular posting schedule worked out. Thanks for reading this little blurb and I hope you enjoy! 

[yutasbimil]

Irony

vyn x fem!oc | tears of themis ff. (psychology major!lead) ✦ (1/8) [series fic] REPOSTING!!! also posted on my ao3 acc! { here } tags: fluff, comfort cw: love at first sight, slight prejudice, psychology major student x professor? hmmm . . . meet-cute, eventual smut, eventual romance, heavy psychological anguish later on orz (sorry) ; idk what to put kek note: possible series or there might be more continuation onto this context! for now this settles it for me ;) + supposedly expected to be finished last sept. on vyn's bday, but I only got around it now; majority of this set-up is inspired by vyn's ssr card 'a star in the night' + supposedly this is a 'x reader' fic but got too heavy eventually, I apologize truly ;; word count: 2.5k

part 2 | part 3 | part 4 | part 5 | part 6 | part 7 | part 8

do not repost © yutasbimil (2021)

“I wouldn't like a person with a prestigious background.” The lady is irked by the arrogance of rich; higher-class people. Vyn opposes love at first sight.

Ironically, Yule and Vyn came to realize they're both the type of people they came to ‘despise’; likewise.

They promised to stray away from those qualities, but this very essence is what drove them closer.

In a rush, Rosa approaches Yule at the sight of her. Yule is actually expecting more of a warm greeting from the senior, being an alumna of the campus and all. Yet she’s greeted with a pile of paper shoved by her chest.

“I’m really sorry, Yule!” Rosa almost tumbles as she bows. “I have to make a run to the firm.” By holding the older one with her phone, Yule got the gist that it was urgent.

She didn’t even get the chance to glance at the papers, not till she looked over that what Rosa hands out are survey questionnaires.

Rosa did not even tell her what to do though to get this; what it is for, and is it already up for evaluations? All she does know; it’s still not half done to be enough for input. Seeing one-third of it blank… Yule wants to cry internally.

Rosa didn't even explain to her what to do at all. 

Yule signs and she's even just here as an alumnus to get her documents.

She’s currently taking her Master's degree, and she's also planning to enroll here. As Rosa recommended.

And Marius.  sighs

They are at most friends, having the same interest in art. Though, she still gets annoyed as he can be quite a tease and unpredictable when they interact.

Geez, the thought of that guy infuriates me.

Yule diverts her attention back elsewhere, scanning over the papers she has at hand, aware of its content since she had psychological assessment courses.

Too drifted off and immersed in reading details, she grows hesitant.

Rosa is just about done with the evaluations— but, I am not in the place to hand these out as in the first place, I am not even assigned to conduct this…

Yule worries over her lips, upon reading a certain name, she pauses.

‘Dr. Richter?  That sounds like the prof. I'll have in my class.’

She runs her finger on the print. “Vyn…”

She bumps into a man with a lab coat. Startled, she steps back.  “Oh, sorry!”  She’s almost a jittery mess, bowing and keeping the folder by her chest.

The sight of the lady also took Vyn by surprise.

Though, by her reaction, she doesn't recognize him at all. Or as that is what he presumed.

Yule first noticed his golden eyes, brighter through his glasses. She doesn’t know but some warmth spreads in her chest, urging her that he’s the kind of person to approach for aid. More so as his eyes glint back at her.

“Sorry to bother you more, but do you know Dr. Richter around here?”

The taller male says nothing for a moment, pursing his lips as he sees the glimpse of the familiar papers. 

Yule noticed his stares.

“Oh, no worries. I’m planning to give it back.” A bit guilty, she bites her lips as she did check the content. Though she doesn’t want to let go of it yet, she is already intrigued by the study.  What am I saying?

Rosa, you better make it up for me.

“That is me, but may I ask where you got those from?” the silver-haired man inquired. She lifts the papers by her chest. 

“Oh, my friend is in a rush. She just handed these out to me. I really thought she planned to make me answer all of these…” Yule laughs, a bit forced, awkward. But all the more perpetually made things indeed more awkward.

At least for her end.

“Are you Miss Saints?” 

Somehow hearing him saying her name in his low voice made her heart tumble.

No Yule! You’re just nervous. No way that your heart skipped a beat at that!

Yule takes a deep breath regaining composure as she stands up straight. She firmly holds the folders and offers her hand.

“I am, and can I take that as you are Dr. Richter?” As if automatically she switched and adjusted her speech to formal talking to this nobleman. Or at least that's what her brain registered her to do.

“Indeed.” He nods, humbly smiling back at her ever so solemnly. “Please… No need to be so formal, any friend of Rosa is to my liking.”

Vyn takes her hand, she felt soft by her hand upwards. He speaks. “I suppose you know about those evaluation papers?”

Just when she thought she had the upper hand in keeping the atmosphere in place.  Alas. 

She sighed in defeat and was a bit ashamed. At this point, she’s screaming Rosa’s name at the back of her mind for being in this situation.

“Apologies, Rosa was in such a rush to ask me a favor.” she almost bites back a sob. “Though I do know the protocols yet I still rummaged through it.” 

“Oh, no worries. It’s fine. It is up to you if you want to take part as the respondent, or do you wish to continue to be of assistance?”

She did not even register the question in her head.

The curiosity has been looming over her mind for the past minutes, enough for it to ask to slip off. She didn’t have a moment to fight back her urge.  “How did you know my name?”

“Rosa had mentioned you to me on numerous occasions,” he replies, his lips shifting upwards in a noticeable manner. “She’s actually enthralled for me to meet you soon, since you’re her ‘psychologist friend’, as she worded it.”

Did she just witness him smiling at that fact?  Yule grows more on embarrassed than delighted at that.

Though, how come she didn’t even mention Dr. Richter to her at all to be aware of him? …if he knows her already this much?  How odd of you Rosa…

“Not yet.” She puts emphasis on that, further explaining to him her future plans for her degree. 

He gestures to her to move aside to sit by the waiting benches by the hallway. As more students crowd the room. As they found a bit of comfort by their feet, she continued, playing by the hem of her sleeves as she placed the folder between them. The distance now feels safe. “I am not even fully sure since you handed these out to be conducted. You assigned Rosa.”

Yule only expected him to take it as it is, as it is the facts. So, she didn’t expect the slight gleam of his eyes, though it wouldn’t be discernible if one isn’t paying much attention to a person. 

She rationalized it as she’s someone taking up psychology, of course, she had to be perceptive at most.

A smile is now formed on his lips, distinct more now than it is for her.

“Take it as a ‘makeup’ for bumping into me.”

That is a big thing for him, what an inconvenience you are, Yule. She kept the surging blood rushing through her face to herself, feeling all the more embarrassed.

Vyn is quick to retract it. 

“I am only kidding, though, mind if I do observe you?” he suggests once again. “I won’t be much of a bother. I believe if I accompany you, the students might answer those around me differently.”

As much as she knows that might change behavior, for the genuinity of the study, she's more affected by being watched. 

“Only if you do mind, Miss Yule?”

That made her get out of her zone. “No! I actually want to finish it seeing its content,” she admitted, the words just escaped smoothly.

By the gleaming eyes greeting her back.

She knows well that she'll definitely enjoy having classes here.

Yule is now itching more to move to her feet and get this over with, besides the outcome, the resounding steps of the two of them echoing in the now deserted hallway is growing all the more engaging. The idea of this atmosphere is going to be familiar to her…

I need to finish finalizing my documents.

It is the least of her expectations.

Yule is yet to know what is going right at her.

How could she slip up on their first conversation?  The look on Vyn across her, is anything but “amused” with his lips pointing upwards.

It felt cold and artificial, remaining unnoticed by the girl while she carried on with her sentiments. 

“They can be quite obnoxious.” she huffs, the push in her voice signals depth. 

“Just because they think they owe you and can bribe you with money.”

Vyn sips from his cup before speaking. “Don’t you think you are discrediting them for their hard work and efforts on what you have said prior on that basis?”

“Also…” Adding a chuckle, he looks at her. “Do you not like Marius that much?”

“N-no! I actually like him, he's one of the few I get along with and of that background.” She almost pokes herself reaching the straw with her mouth. That took her off guard, it is anything but hatred. Although she had to admit, she got carried away with her mouth. That is not at all what she meant, but is it really coming across that way on how Vyn interpreted it?

Yule is part of the middle class, more on the working side, and trying to strive to meet her needs, but delving into the topic and personal encounters, she had a handful of unpleasant experiences working with rich people.

Though, she did not even consider him, Vyn Richter, as that… even when she got to know he's rich af.

She grows somber in her seat. It really flew out of her mind that Vyn had told her about this recently. Remaining her lips wrapped around her straw, Yule made a mental note to hold back her tongue this time around.

“Yule, how come you've developed a stereotype, then such judgment on this matter?” His voice is too clear to bypass.

Yule took the moment to look at him intently. 

At some odd feeling, she felt that his intention on the question is beyond his inquiries on psychology. This is a matter of intuition now.

She doesn't want to back down or stray away from their topic.

Now a bit composed, she tells him in prompt detail what’s on her mind. “Okay, sorry. I held such a judgment, though it is personal based on what I have encountered… Especially in prestigious places that I had a chance to get a job in. Some can be condescending not because they have power, when the actual case is that what they are lacking is simple respect to others.”

“I see.” Vyn runs his fingers by his chin and then gestured to her, she felt her breath release. “You said that in meticulous detail.”

Yule hums, now a bit relieved in her place though nervous if she lessened the mess she placed on the atmosphere.

“I do hope I don't come across that way. May I ask if I have offended you in some way, in our previous meetings perhaps?”

“Not at all.” She shakes her head firmly, assuring him in the best manner. She had to take another good look at him, straight in contact. “What do you mean though, Dr. Richter?” 

She can’t quite put a finger on it…

“Nothing.”

She won’t think much of it then.

By the clock ticking, and as the condensation of the cup drips by her finger, Vyn drops his question.

“Ah, right. Rosa relayed the message to me moments ago… Since she's got an extra ticket, how about you be the one to join me at this event? Her friend Kiki isn't able to accompany her.”

Yule flinched as he handed the invitation, more so as his slender fingers brushed hers for a moment. But looking at the table now, she can't quite comprehend seeing the intricate details on the paper, let alone the scent of it.

Or is it him?

She flushed red as she realized his close proximity.

Yule backs away, also because she might have to turn him down. “Oh no, I don’t know if I may…” The shining letters on the paper gawk at her by her line of vision.

She doesn't have any appropriate clothes.

Like of course, on average, she didn't have anything packed for this certain instance. She will stick out like a sore thumb!

“Is there any problem, Miss Yule?” Vyn had to ask as she had been silent for a while.

 Prompting her feet properly to her seat, her sheepish behavior came off a bit less. “Honestly… I don’t have a dress for a ball.”

Does she look pathetic?

“Oh, no need… Marius suggested a design for you.” Seeing the already prepared reference on the older male’s phone, she had to widen her eyes at the sight of her favorite hues that complements her skin so well.

That made her flush more.

She lets out a nervous laugh, mixed with vexation. “I swear he wants me in debt.”

“I asked him directly though, no worries. Besides, knowing you're in the midst of moving here in Stellis, I suppose you didn't bring any attire for these kinds of events.”

 “Exactly.” She felt herself relax and look at him with intent. So, he didn't see the fact that I may not have any of the luxury, and did not prioritize it since she’s handling something at the moment. She beams at him, feeling the effects of the caffeine saturate her body. “You’ve done so much already, Vyn, thank you.”

Hearing that she had already complied in calling him by the name, she claps his hands together, nodding in appreciation. “That settles it then.”

“Mind if I pick you up at noon?” he asks.

“Not quite a morning person?”

He had to perk a smile, as she even managed to notice that detail.

Vyn chuckles, letting a meek smile paint over his lips. “I suppose you too?”

Nodding, she had to mirror back a shy grin, disappearing in a matter of seconds as it’s been replaced by an astonished reaction. 

“Let's grab a coffee on the way.” Vyn leans nearer, drawing her in with his smile.

She had to flush back.  He noticed that detail too, huh…

Settling on the same agreement feels safe as they get more captivated into their little bubble. Despite being both’s epitome of ‘irony’ at the first meeting, they have settled it. With Vyn breaking down her beliefs into something more bearable; showing more of the radical explanation of phenomena, and to Yule alluring the appealing nature of the primacy effect  in love for Vyn. Possibly expanding the concept and enticing dynamics to him hereafter.

To the one who acts on her vulnerabilities, the other rational on their approach. One can learn from the other; equal and reciprocal. Opposites do attract.

Having to see in person the name, the one he keeps hearing, now has a form and meaning for him to further analyze. He wishes to comprehend more of her complexities past her captivating appearance. Vyn can now structure better connections based on further impressions he may probe into.

Letting the scent of the café waft their senses, he's stirred awake.

He’s the type who prefers tea, but with him being in her presence, it feels natural. She gives the same palpitation and warmth as he glances at her coffee-brown eyes.

※ my masterlist | #enjeiwrites ※

[desire-mona]

randomly assigning house md characters internet moments / videos / memories / whatever i remember based off nothing at all (i did i dps version too) (also links for everything i talk about will be provided) (also also this isnt made to make fun of anyone involved in any of this)

house - mr beast and his OLD OLD youtube videos, like circa 2015? i think? he used to make cringe compilations essentially where he just made fun of kids' youtube intros. face and all like nothing was blurred for privacy, and then he'd call them cringe and make drinking bleach jokes. like a LOT. i binge watched those back in like 4th grade i think? maybe 5th? so thats kinda all i associate him with now. he also made videos where he would say a word like a thousand times, sometimes WAY more (like 100k+). or like. count to that number, he did both. anyway rip house you wouldve loved making fun of kids' youtube videos

wilson - does anyone remember the evian baby commercials? i think the whole shtick was like "this water makes you feel young again" I THINK? the one i linked was the one where the reflection on a building makes ppl babies, but theres one where babies are on roller skates or whatever too. this isnt entirely an internet moment as much as it is just a memory, cuz i remember my mom and my aunt DYING laughing at these commercials. idk what it was they were just in tears. theres something so 2007-2015 about dancing babies. wasnt a dancing baby the first internet meme? just googled it and yes it was.

cuddy - onision's shitty spoken word songs PLEASE tell me someone remembers them. onision really shouldve stopped trying to make music after the banana song bc the rest really suck shit. this is NOT based on vibes i gotta get that out there, i was like hmm cuddy has a kid. you know who else has a kid? YOU KNOW WHO LET THEIR KID FALL OUT OF A WINDOW? cuddy would fucking HATE onision. ALSO OH MY GOD PAUSE EVERYTHING ONISION JUST UPLOADED A SONG. I NEED TO MAKE A SEPERATE POST ABOUT THIS RIGHT NOW WHAT THE HELL. anyway dont watch it. i linked strange æon's video on his music just bc i really dont wanna direct u to anything of his directly. did u know i dont like onision?

foreman - the most insane youtube poop ive ever seen in all of my 19 years of living, i sent this to maddie specifically when i made my initial "like for a rando internet moment!" post but i really need to share it with the general public. general warning for youtube poop-ness; flash, loud noises, overwhelming, etc. i am actually begging you to watch this because it tops every other ytp ive ever seen, like actually blows it out of the water. i also has no idea ppl still made ytps after 2014 tbh.... btw this is probably the only ytp that i'll ever recommend LMAO

chase - OH MY GOD KYLERLOVESJESUS. so basically this one eboy influencer type on tiktok back in 2019 Found God and went on rants about how abortion is wrong and gay marriage is bad and blah blah blah. there was this moment on one of his lives where he went "i love gay people, i would be best friends with a gay person. do i support it? no." which was the FUNNIEST shit back in the day. i would quote it on the daily. btw the editing of the video i linked is VERY of the time so beware LMAO

cameron - cutie the kitten (sans' wife and gf) + the killing videos sans fan girls would make. i actually cant link anything bc the channel doesnt exist anymore but! basically back in 2016ish there was this one girl who had such a crush on sans and she had a whole ocxcanon situation with sans and her pink cat oc Cutie. a lot of ppl hated her + the ppl who had ocs shipped with sans but looking back its truly not a big deal. what is a big deal is that she (? maybe?) and other sans fangirls would make animated slideshow videos of their ocs using powers or whatever to kill other sans fangirls. like brutally. it was a wild time i wish cutie's channel was still up so i could prove thats a real thing, but ask an undertale fan from back then and odds are theyll know. heres a sans fangirl cringe compilation so you kinda know what im talking about, but fair warning it is a cringe compilation so. it wont be nice.

thirteen - TW INCEST!! this one hamilton animatic i saw back in forever ago to the song 'helpless'. usually animatics to that song use eliza and hamilton (im not a hamilton fan this is very surface lvl knowledge btw) but the one i saw was eliza and ANGELICA. like as in HER SISTER. big surprise someone in a big fandom ships incest wow I KNOW its tame compared to other shit, but it was i think my first exposure to anything like that circa 2017ish, so it kinda stuck in the brain. also the video i linked isnt the og its a phil collins mashup, the og got taken down. hamilton always makes an appearance in my house posts doesnt it, be lucky i didnt give kutner this one bc ppl were turn up abt hamilton fan kutner.

taub - WHAT DO YALL KNOW ABOUT MIKE AND MELISSA ⁉️⁉️ basically mike and melissa is this animated passion project this guy made to show himself (or his persona? or maybe just some guy) falling in love with his fursona that comes to life. this was the only episode this guy uploaded and i think he kinda disappeared after. the plot is kinda hard to follow and its not TERRIBLY animated but its certainly not professional looking. there's a video about what happened to him uploaded like 5 months ago, but i havent watched it. when i first heard of mike n melissa i fully thought it was a mid 2000s family sitcom but it definitely Is Not That.

kutner - undertale sans au christmas party comic dub. i probably dont need to give an explanation as to what sans aus are but idk how many ex or current undertale fans follow me so i'll do it anyway. making au's for undertale was a pretty common practice back in its early days, and usually the most popular character in any undertale variation is sans. who sans is shipped with was always up in the air, so much like the onceler, ppl ended up shipping sans with other au versions of himself. this christmas party comic is in my mind the undertale fandom equivalent of camp weehawken. i think there was also a sans au comic where all the sans' except for like 2 were toddlers at daycare? i dont remember who the adult sans' were but also i think the creator got into hot water? dont remember why.