#only her. These two. My heart! They WILL get their happy ending.

[wonderjanga]

Marvel and Pets

Billy loves animals. He can’t help it. Even as Marvel, he’ll go up to dog owners and ask to pet their dogs. There are more than a couple videos of him dwarfing these little puppies and petting them.

Marvel: *turned into Shazham and chilling on the floor with Wonder-pig*

Wonder-pig: *yapping in pet language*

Marvel: *responding back in pet language*

Flash: *watching them* “Huh… When did Cap get a pig?”

GL: “I don’t know. I didn’t even know the guy owned pets- is it standing up?”

Flash and GL: *watches in slight horrification and fascination as what they though was a normal pig, stands on two legs like a human being and picks Wonder-pig up so they can go to the kitchen to eat*

By the way, Wonder-pig also refers to Billy as her brother because she thinks he’s Shazham. So, not only is he a pig, but he has Greek powers and her owner has Greek powers so they’re related which makes her and him related. If that makes sense.

Later…

Flash: “Dude, what is wrong with your pig?”

Marvel: “My pig? What’re you talking about?”

Flash: “Your pig! It looked like a pig version of you. Is it not yours…?”

Marvel: “Oooooh you mean Shazham.” *looks for a second to make sure he doesn’t get struck by lightning because it sounds like Shazam*

Flash: *also looks up, confused as to what he’s looking at* “Yeah? I think.”

Marvel: “So what’s wrong with my pig?” *looks back at him*

Flash: “Me and John saw it stand up with full human autonomy. Do you know how horrifying that is?”

Marvel: “Really? My bad. Well, he means no harm.” *pats Flash on the shoulder* “It’s best not to dwell on it.”

Flash: “I really think we should-”

Marvel: *continuing to pat Flash’s shoulder* “I’m really glad we can move on from this.”

Flash: “Yeah, I don’t want to move on from this-”

Marvel: “It wa nice talking to you!”

or

Robin!Damian: “Translate Bat-hound.” *points to the dog*

Marvel: “Sorry, what?”

Robin!Damian: “You can speak all languages, yes? That includes animals, I assume?”

Marvel: “Yes?”

Robin!Damian: “So translate Bat-hound.”

Marvel: “Well, what am I translating exactly?”

Robin!Damian: “Start up a conversation.”

Marvel: *stares at the dog*

Bat-hound: *in pet language* “You smell like the pig Wonder-pig was hanging around.” (This just sounds like barks to Damian.)

Robin!Damian: “What did he say?”

Marvel: “He said I smell like the pig Wonder-pig was hanging around. I think he’s talking about Shazham.” *looks up to the ceiling for a moment just in case he gets shazamed*

Robin!Damian: “Does that mean you have a pig?”

Marvel: “Uh… yeah.” *doesn’t know how to feel about calling himself a pet*

Robin!Damian: “Tt. Neither Batman nor Agent A will let me have a pig.”

Marvel: “Do you want to meet my pig?”

Robin!Damian: “…yes.”

Marvel: “I’ll bring him over one day then! You’ll be the first who knows and gets to talk to him.”

If pretending to be a pig would make a kid happy, Billy would do it. In the end, Damian seemed happy when he came as Shazham.

Robin!Damian: “You can understand me?”

Marvel: *in Shazham form, nods head*

Robin!Damian: *little kid wonder* “Amazing. I’ll have to ask your owner to bring you around more. The Captain mentioned how Bat-hound said you hung around Wonder-pig. I wonder if you and him can both become friends.”

or

Flash: “What’s he doing?”

Marvel: *sitting on the ground and being barked at, oinked at, turtled at, fish bubbled at, and so on*

Robin!Damian: *appears out of nowhere* “He’s communicating with them.”

Flash: *gets the shit scared out of him, lets out a little yell, and ends up clenching his heart* “Why hasn’t Batman kept you on a leash? You can’t keep doing that to people. You’re going to give someone a heart attack one day!”

Robin!Damian: *mini bat-glares him for the leash comment and starts pulling out one of his swords*

[earlysunshines]

clay hearts

danielle marsh x fem!reader ; fluff

synopsis: you've been working on a bunch of pottery for two hours, danielle thinks you need a break.

warnings: none just lots of kissing maybe ;ceramicist!reader ; they're disgustingly in love ; soooo in love ; anything else not mentioned ; not proofread

a/n: guys i am so delusional and in love with danielle marsh that whole pottery ep actually killed me she's so cute i need to be restrained.

in the little corner of your apartment, right next to the window that lets the sun shine on your features, you’re throwing another glob of clay only your wheel. it’s been fifteen minutes since you started, and you’ve successfully made one cup. one. 

you huff, ready to work on at least two more cups before you move onto some bigger pieces. 

before you can start on the next, you hear the door creaking open. you turn your head and see your girlfriend closing the door behind her. you smile immediately. 

“danielle,” you greet softly, fondly. “i missed you.”

her eyes light up when she sees you sitting by the pottery wheel. her footsteps are soft as she walks towards you, smiling and pressing a kiss to your cheek.

“hey, you,” she murmurs, brushing a bit of clay from oyur eyebrow. “missed you more.”

“no way.”

“yes way.” she giggles. “i’ll let you get back to work, i have some of my own to tackle.”

you hum in response, leaving her to whatever is on her to-do list. 

—

hours slip by in quiet focus. you lose yourself in shaping the clay, unaware of just how much time has passed by as you made three cups, a plate, and a small vase. there’s the occasional groan or curse that slips from your lips as you tackle the stubborn pieces that refuse to cooperate. 

about an hour in, danielle had settled herself at the small beanbag near the coffee table, quietly working on her assignments with her laptop perched on her lap. she’s close enough to be company but far enough to let you work. 

you glimpse at danielle here and there in between each piece, happy to have her close to you. and she’s doing the same, stealing glances at you every few minutes, watching the way your brows furrow as you concentrate, the way your fingers shift to smooth and shape the clay. you’re lost in your own world. 

you look completely at ease, even in frustration, and something about it all — about you, your apron, and skin covered in flecks of clay — makes her heart skip. danielle can’t help but sneak a picture, you’re just so adorable in her eyes.

eventually, danielle can’t hold back. thirty-minutes later she closes her laptop softly and shifts in her seat, watching you for a few moments longer, letting the sound of your jazz playlist fill the silence. her chin is on her palm and she grins, calling out, “how about a break?”

“not yet,” you mumble, “almost done.” your eyes don’t leave the wheel, you’re not finished throwing the piece at hand — a strawberry vase that someone paid extra for; extra as in enough to take you and your girlfriend out for dinner at the end of the week — though your lips quirk into a small, appreciative smile.

she laughs softly, folding her arms as she sits back in the beanbag chair. “you’ve been making those weird noises you make when you’re frustrated for the past two hours, you know. i think you deserve one.”

finally breaking your focus, you glance over at her. her eyes are warm and soft and she’s smiling at you like she’s been waiting just to catch your attention. she looks especially alluring in your t-shirt, which fits loosely over her, and with her hair down messily. 

the vase isn’t quite finished, this is your second attempt at shaping it after all. you still have a few days before you can get it done, but you’d rather finish a complex piece like this now than later. spending a few minutes with your beloved girlfriend sounds lovely, but finishing a stubborn, pricey piece like this might have to come first. it’s for both of your sakes anyway, and it’ll only take maybe fifteen more minutes or so.

“dani,” you sigh, looking up at her with a pout, “can i finish this one first?”

she frowns at you, sighing before leaning against the cushion and admiring you again. “fine, fine.”

you give her an apologetic smile before returning to the piece. 

on your third attempt at constructing the strawberry vase, you accidentally make a dent. it had been going so well too, the sides all even and the structure perfect, but you just had to apply too much pressure as you slid your fingers up. you stare down at the clay spinning around, the dent making it look unappealing as it does so.

frustrated and out of sheer annoyance, you smack your hand down on it, flattening the shape completely. danielle watches you groan, leaning back and closing your eyes as you try to shake off the irritation.

as you redirect your attention again, starting to shape the mess of clay on the wheel, a small shuffle catches your attention. you turn to see danielle pulling up a chair right behind you. you raise a brow at the way she leans in close, wrapping her arms around you from behind, her small hands gently covering yours on the wheel.

you’re taken aback, glancing over your shoulder. “what are you doing?”

she tilts her head, grinning cheekily. “helping you out, of course.” she says in a light tone, sending a shiver down your spine.

her fingers curl around yours, guiding your hands back to the clay as you start to reshape it together. her fingers get covered in clay, but she doesn’t seem to care—she’s focused on you, her face close, eyes warm, breath hot as it hits your skin.

“the last time you tried to throw a cup you made quite the mess,” you chuckle, feeling her press closer with her chin resting on your shoulder. “you know this is just gonna make a mess, right?”

“maybe,” she whispers, a playful hint in her tone. and then, out of nowhere, she takes the opportunity of your head being angled towards her to press a quick, soft kiss to your lips.

your heart races, and you turn to her fully, a surprised smile spreading across your face. “is this your way of helping?”

“mhm,” she teases, giving your hands a final nudge before wiping her own on your apron. then, before you can react, her hands slip beneath the apron, resting gently on your ribs over the thin fabric of your tank top. her thumbs trace small circles there, rendering you a flustered mess as every thought of clay dissipates in your mind.

you feel her lips press a soft kiss to your shoulder, then another one to your neck, lingering just enough to send yet another shiver through you; your breath hitches.

turning to face her, your noses almost brush, and she’s giving you that look. the look that she always gives you when she’s amount to leave you breathless and flushed. she leans in again, catching your lips in another kiss, this one softer, warmer. 

your hands, still covered in clay, reach up to rest on her arms, pulling her just a bit closer as her fingers trace lazy patterns over your ribs. it’s a scene straight from a movie: the two of you sharing teasing, lingering kisses, playful and unhurried, each one leaving you feeling lighter than the last.

finally, she pulls back, to which you respond by chasing after, lips brushing against another. she’s smirking at you, her hand moving up to cup your face and brush some clay off.

“feeling better?” she asks as her thumb moves over to rest on the corner of your lip.

“much,” 

“right,” she starts, sliding her hand down to the base of your neck. “i think you should wrap up for the day and pay attention to your lovely girlfriend. how does that sound?”

with the time you spent with your eyes glued to the clay, you never realized the sun setting beside you. the dimmed rays shine on her face perfectly, accentuating each curve of every feature. danielle’s gaze is soft, her touch even softer as she slides her hands over your skin. you swallow shallowly, losing yourself at the sight of her—how could you say no when she looks at you like that?

“i think that sounds lovely.” you mutter, grinning as you lean in for one last kiss.

[surielstea]

Dancing With Fate

Original request.

Pairing: Nyx Archeron x Tamlin’s Daughter!Reader

Summary: While struggling with her relationship with her father, Reader goes to her first ball and stumbles upon a male she has never met, but feels a distinct connection to.

Warnings: slight angst with a parent, mostly fluff between Reader and Nyx

A.Note: I apologize for how long this took me to get out, I really struggled with how to format her back story but I ended up fairly happy with it, let me know if y’all want more of these two I’d be happy to write a few one shots of their dynamic as well as all the family drama since I’m such a sucker for the forbidden love trope ;)

6.4k word count.

"Can you do that again for me, my sweet?" my mother whispered, her voice trembling as she crouched down to my height. I watched her eyes fill with a glassy shine that I didn't understand. She reached out, her hands shaking as they wrapped around my small wrists. I blinked up at her, wide-eyed and oblivious, only feeling the warmth of her touch and the tremor of her fingers.

I balled my hands into tiny fists, scrunching my face with all the concentration I could muster. I wanted so badly to make her proud, to show her what I could do. I willed the claws beneath my skin to surface, squeezing my fists tighter until, with a soft tearing, they slid out, small and sharp, shining like new silver. Her breath caught, and her eyes went even wider as she stared at the claws that had split through my knuckles. A single tear slipped down her cheek, and I tilted my head, wondering why she was sad. I reached out, my claws joining the action as I moved, but she stumbled back, evading the sharp silver, her hand pressed over her mouth.

"What's wrong, Momma?" I asked, my voice tiny. I tried to reach for her cheek, to wipe the tear away like she'd done for me so many times, but she shook her head, forcing a small, shaky smile.

"Nothing, it's alright, my sweet," she whispered, her voice soft and a little broken. "I just... didn't think you'd be able to do this so soon." Her fingers lingered on my cheek, warm and tender. She looked at me like she was memorizing my face, like every part of me mattered.

I gave her a proud smile, lifting my hands. "Isn't it cool?" I grinned widely, my innocence unbroken. I had no idea what my claws really meant, or the sorrow that darkened her gaze as she watched me slash the air with them, filling the quiet night with soft, sharp swishes. She just sat there, quiet and sad, holding her own hands close to her chest as if they couldn't bear to let me go.

It was a late night, much too late for me to be awake. I clung tightly to my mother's hand as she led me through a garden filled with roses that gleamed under the moonlight. The flowers were tall and beautiful, and I wanted to reach out to touch them, but my mother's grip kept me close. She moved so fast, her cloak wrapped tightly around her, like she was hiding from something.

"Where are we going, Mom?" I asked in a small voice, but she didn't answer, her steps quickening as she pulled me along. The roses seemed to shiver in the breeze, their petals brushing against us as we passed, and the moon above us was high and cold, casting everything in a silver glow.

Ahead of us was a huge mansion, bigger than any house I'd ever seen. It loomed in the night, dark and quiet, like it was waiting for us. My mother slowed as we neared the porch, her breathing heavy as she crouched down in front of me, her face serious in a way that made my heart beat faster.

She pressed a folded piece of paper into my hands, her fingers cold and firm around mine. "We're going to play a game, okay?" she said, forcing a smile that didn't reach her eyes. Her fingers brushed my cheek, tucking a loose strand of hair behind my ear.

I nodded eagerly, happy that she wanted to play. Games with Momma were always fun. She pointed to the paper, her hand gentle but urgent. "Whoever opens that door," she said, her voice steady but quiet, "you give them this paper, okay?" Her gaze held mine, as if she was trying to pour a message into me with her eyes. "And, my sweet," she paused, swallowing hard, "I'm going to hide now. And no matter what they ask you, you can't tell them I was with you. It's a big secret."

I blinked up at her, not fully understanding, but I nodded anyway, like a good girl. She reached out, her fingers lingering on my cheek again, her eyes shimmering with something I couldn't name. "I'll meet you at the window, okay?" Her voice cracked, and a tear slipped down her cheek. "It'll be fun, I promise."

I reached up to brush the tear away, but she was already rising. Before I could say anything else, she knocked on the tall doors, and with a last, lingering look, she turned and melted into the shadows. Just like that, she was gone.

Suddenly, the night felt enormous and empty, the shadows stretching out around me, dark and cold. The noises from the forest grew louder, like the trees and animals and everything hidden within the dark were whispering all around me. My heart pounded, and I almost wanted to cry out, to beg for her to come back and take me home. But before I could make a sound, the massive doors creaked open, casting a sliver of light onto the porch.

A man stood in the doorway, tall and fierce, with wild red hair and eyes that seemed to cut through the darkness. One of his eyes gleamed gold, like a piece of metal, and he looked down at me with a frown, his expression stern and sleepy. "Excuse me, Mister," I squeaked, trying to remember my mother's instructions.

His gaze softened just a bit as he took in my tiny figure. "And who might you be?" he asked, his voice rough but not unkind.

"I'm supposed to give this to you." I held up the paper, my hands trembling as I waited for him to take it. He knelt down, eyeing me carefully as he unfolded the note, his expression unreadable. I gave him a polite smile, remembering my mother's lessons, but his gaze flicked from the note back to me, his eyes narrowing.

"Where's your mother?" he asked, his voice soft but sharp.

I shrugged, fidgeting under his gaze. "I don't know," I whispered, my heart thudding in my chest.

"But she brought you here, didn't she?" he pressed, his gaze steady. I swallowed, unsure of how my mother would want me to answer. After a long, quiet moment, he sighed, opening the door wider. "Come inside. You shouldn't be out here alone."

I followed him into the mansion, the silence thick and heavy as he led me up a grand staircase. My shoes clicked against the cold, polished floor as we climbed up and up, stopping finally at a pair of wooden doors wrapped in ivy. I was too small to open them, so I just waited, feeling very small in the middle of the enormous hallway.

"Wait here a moment," he said, giving me a nod before stepping through the door. I looked around, mesmerized by the golden chandelier hanging above me, its glow casting strange, twisting shadows that moved as the lights flickered.

"I already told you I'm not in the mood to talk, Lucien." A deep, heavy voice sounded from beyond the door, and I jumped, hugging my cloak tighter around me.

"It's not that," Lucien replied, his tone shifting in a way that sounded unsure, even a little nervous. "You have a visitor."

The other voice was silent for a moment, and my stomach knotted up as I realized they were talking about me. "Tell them to leave," the man said finally, his tone cold and final.

Lucien sighed, and I heard the soft rustling of paper. The silence felt like it stretched forever, but then footsteps approached. The door swung open, and I looked up to see a tall man with golden hair, his eyes dark and sharp as they fell on me. I could tell by the way he looked at me that he wasn't used to children, that maybe he didn't know what to do with me.

But he crouched down slowly, his gaze softening just a bit as he held his hands up, like he wanted me to know he wasn't going to hurt me. "What's your name?" he asked, his voice low and gentle.

I told him, my voice a quiet whisper, but he nodded as if he'd heard every word. "Do you know who I am?" he asked, tilting his head, and I shook my head, looking down at my hands.

"I'm the High Lord of the Spring Court," he said softly, his tone proud but his eyes sad. My eyes widened, a little smile pulling at my lips. I'd heard of a High Lord in my mother's stories, someone powerful and magical.

"But, more importantly," he continued, his gaze searching my face, "I'm your father."

I blinked up at him, the words hanging in the air like they were something heavy, something I didn't yet understand. I wanted to ask him what it all meant, but all I could do was stare up at him, my fingers curling around the edge of my cloak, wishing I was safe in my mother's arms again.

———

Ever since that night, I've been confined to this estate on every special occasion, under the watchful eyes of my father's maids, lest I sneak away the moment I'm alone. Tonight, like many others, I'm left looking out the window of my bedroom—the same spot where I'd waited endlessly as a child, hoping my mother would come back for me.

But tonight was going to be different. I'd make sure of it.

I storm out of my room, my heels clicking with determined steps as I march down the hall. I swing open the doors to my father's study without knocking. He looks up from his papers, brow creased, clearly taken aback by my abrupt entrance.

"I'm going to the Dawn Court tonight," I say, my tone leaving no room for discussion.

"Absolutely not," he replies, shaking his head and dipping his quill back in the ink, dismissing me with the kind of finality he's used to exerting over me.

"All the courts are invited," I argue, stepping forward. "I'm obligated to go."

"No," he says again, his tone colder. "It's a high-profile ball. You're not ready."

I draw in a sharp breath, struggling to keep my temper in check. "Not ready? Father, I'm nineteen. If not now, then when?" This age had been difficult for him for some reason, I don't know why but ever since my birthday he's been acting strangely, started keeping me shut out and less involved—I may as well have just been imagining it or it was a coincidence it started happening after I turned nineteen, but once I got the thought in my head it was hard to get it out.

His expression hardens, his voice annoyingly calm. "Just, not now."

A chill spreads through my hands, and I have to resist the urge to bear the claws that hide beneath my skin. "I'm so tired of having every decision made for me," I say, pressing my palms to my temples as frustration wells up. "Of being treated like a prisoner in this house."

He stands, his temper fraying. "And I'm sick of you thinking you know best," His voice rises, echoing in the silence of the study. "You don't understand half of what's at stake."

"No, maybe I don't. But neither do you, apparently," I snap back. "Or maybe it's just that you're afraid to lose the only company you have left in this house. Is that it, Father?"

His hands ball into fists, metal-like claws gleaming from his knuckles. Mine slid out as well, a metallic gleam in the dim light.

"You have no idea what you're talking about," he snarls, eyes darkening.

"Maybe I do," I bite back. "I hate this house." It came out as more of a confession than a retort, but his face falters, pain flickering through his eyes before he regains his composure.

"You don't mean that."

"I do," I insist, voice shaking with anger. "I hate this house, and I wish my mother never abandoned me here." The words are barely out of my mouth before I turn on my heel and stride out, slamming the door behind me so hard the walls shudder, my claws snagging on the wood of the door and scraping the paint off, revealing the bare, slightly rotted wood beneath. It felt like a metaphor, in a strange way.

I make my way to the garden, desperate for air. The night breeze is cool as I step out onto the deck, and I close the glass doors behind me a little more gently this time. Taking a few deep breaths, I walk along the garden path, letting the silence and cold soothe my frayed nerves. Winter's grip is finally loosening, and the garden is starting to come alive with buds and leaves. My favorite time of year.

I reach for one of the rosebuds, my claws retracting ever so slowly, my skin morphing over the hideous metal that gleamed in the moonlight. I forget the feeling of the power my father gifted me and remember the feeling and comforting warmth of my mother's power flickering beneath my fingertips. The flower blooms in my palm, reaching out toward me, and I smile faintly as I coax the other buds open along the path. Flower by flower my frustrating emotions ebb, and by the time I've reached the stone bench, my anger has cooled, replaced by something heavier, more complicated.

I sit, feeling the familiar weight of regret settle over me. I don't hate this house, not really. I hate the way I'm trapped in it.

The glass door opens, and I know without looking that it's him. My father takes a seat beside me on the bench, and I shift away, making it clear I'm not ready to forgive him just yet. We sit in silence, watching the newly-bloomed flowers sway in the night breeze. Finally, he sighs.

"You can go to the Dawn Court tonight," he says quietly.

I turn to him, my eyes wide with surprise.

He hesitates, looking down at his hands. "I'm..." He struggles around the word. "Sorry that you feel like you can't make your own choices," he mutters, his voice filled with a vulnerability I haven't heard ever before. "I'm trying to do better. And, you're right. I am afraid."

My heart softens, and the walls I've built up slowly crumble. "Afraid of what?" I ask, my voice barely above a whisper.

"Of losing you, in turn losing everything." He looks up, his eyes—a shade of green I've always found comfort in—filled with an emotion that makes my heart ache.

Without thinking, I wrap my arms around him, and he pulls me close, his hand gently stroking my back. "I'm sorry, too," I murmur into his shoulder.

He shakes his head. "Don't be. You're my daughter. You're allowed to be angry with me." He pulls back to look at me. "Just promise me one thing," he says. "Promise you won't run away tonight."

I give him a small smile, the request so obscene that u couldn't help it. "I'll be perfect. Thank you, Father." I reassure.

He nods, satisfied, and rises from the bench. "We leave in an hour. You'd better start getting ready."

———

My dress is a soft lavender that hugs my waist and fans out into a beautiful, flowing skirt, the slit running up my thigh edged in delicate embroidered flowers. The open back crisscrosses with delicate ties, and the neckline is just low enough to be elegant without being too revealing. One of the maids has styled my hair in a half-up, half-down look, a few braided strands framing my face. For once, I feel exactly how I want to feel—elegant, feminine, and free.

I leave my bedroom and make my way down the hall to the marble staircase, where my father waits at the base. As I descend, his eyes widen, his mouth opening slightly as he takes in my appearance.

"Well?" I do a small spin, laughing at his awestruck expression.

He swallows, a proud smile slowly spreading across his face. "You look beautiful," he murmurs, pulling me into a hug.

I hug him back, letting him hold me close, and in that moment, it feels as if all the tension of our earlier argument melts away. We're just father and daughter again.

———

The Dawn Court ballroom is bathed in golden light, warm and inviting. I've barely stepped inside when a tall, dark-skinned man in white robes approaches, a halo of gold atop his head.

"And who is this lovely lady?" he asks, his voice rich with curiosity.

"My daughter," my father answers gruffly, his protective tone unmistakable.

The man blinks in surprise before offering a sheepish smile. "Ah, well then." He turns and makes a quick exit.

"Who was that?" I ask, amused by his reaction.

"High Lord of Day," my father mutters, a hint of irritation in his voice. "He has a reputation."

I raise an eyebrow, smiling as I unlink my arm from his. "Are all High Lords so... pretty?"

"Careful," he growls in warning.

A cheeky smile appears on my lips as I unhook my arm from his. "Only observations." I shrug. "I'm going to get a drink." I take a step away and he takes it with me. "Father, I'm only going to the refreshments table, not war. I'll be fine." I promise and he solicits a sigh.

"No wine." He demands and I shake my head in disbelief.

"Yes sir." I mock salute before spinning on my heel and walking across the ballroom, I make my way to the refreshment table and pour myself a glass from the fountain of cider, admiring the way the bubbles shimmer in the golden light. My father had said no wine but mentioned nothing about spiked cider. I take a long sip and begin to explore the ballroom, watching dancers swirl in gowns of blue and pink that mirror the sunset outside.

Lost in thought, I wander past an indoor garden filled with gardenias and evergreens. I couldn't help myself but slip inside, a few guests were inside, admiring the flowers just as I wished to do, so I deemed I was allowed to. I approached an arch of budded flowers, standing beneath the green vines that soon would be sprouted in color. I reached out, gently brushing a bud with my fingertips, watching as it blooms in reply.

"Your touch has improved since the last time I saw you," a familiar voice murmurs from behind me.

I turn, eyes lighting up as they land on a tan-skinned male with striking red hair. "Lucien!" I throw my arms around him, grinning.

He chuckles, pulling me into a warm hug. "You look stunning, little Fawn," he says, holding me at arm's length to take in my dress. "How did you manage to get out of the house?"

I smirk with a casual shrug. "Whipped out the claws."

He raises an eyebrow, clearly impressed. "Like father, like daughter." He mused and I chuckled, looking down at the flowers reaching towards me, asking for my attention again.

"You want to dance?" His hand comes to my shoulder and I shake my head.

"You go ahead, I think I'll need a few more glasses before I step foot on the dance floor." I scoff and he shakes his head.

"Nonsense, you're a terrific dancer." He bumps my shoulder.

"I'm okay uncle, really," I reassured and he clamped his lips shut.

"Okay, find me if you need me." He presses a kiss to my temple and I nod.

He saunters away towards a group of friends I didn't recognize and I continue exploring, sipping my champagne as I wander through the crowd.

My gaze is caught by a group of strangers dressed in dark clothing. There's a woman in deep maroon, a honey brunette who smiles at me softly, and beside her, a tall man wearing a black-jeweled crown. I study them curiously, trying to place who they might be.

Distracted, I accidentally walk straight into someone's chest.

"Oh, I'm so sorry," I stammer, stumbling back. I trip over my heels, but a pair of strong hands catches me, steadying me before I fall.

"You alright?" an unfamiliar voice asks, deep and soothing.

I look up—and up—and up—at a broad-shouldered man with rugged features and half of his shoulder-length hair tied back. He has a friendly, easy-going smile that immediately puts me at ease.

"Yeah, sorry," I mutter, flushing slightly.

He chuckles, the sound rich and warm. "No need to apologize. I should have been watching where I was going. You'd think five centuries would be enough time to figure that out." He snorts, red siphons gleaming on his chest and hands.

I blink in surprise. "Five centuries?"

He grins, raising an eyebrow. "Hey, no need to make me sound ancient."

I laugh, feeling unexpectedly comfortable around him. "Right. Apologies again." I clamp my lips shut, embarrassed.

"Who's the lucky person that brought you here tonight?" He asks, sensing my embarrassment and switching the topic, shifting to face towards the crowd.

"Couldn't I have come on my own?" I counter, crossing my arms.

He laughs again. "Touché. But I'll bet that doesn't mean you'll be lacking for dance partners." He gestures to the dance floor.

"Maybe," I say with a smile, "but that depends on who asks."

"Well, I would, but my mate would probably have my head if I danced with anyone else," he says, feigning a solemn look.

"Pity," I replied playfully. "But it's alright—you don't seem all that familiar with your feet anyway."

He gasps, feigning insult. "Hey! I'll have you know I'm a world-class dancer!"

"Oh, really?" I raise an eyebrow. "Shame, then. You missed your chance."

He chuckles, backing away. "Well, it was nice talking to you—mystery lady."

"Likewise," I call after him with a smile, watching as he disappears into the crowd.

The music is lively, filling the ballroom with a vibrant energy as dancers swirl and laugh under the golden chandeliers. I sip the last of my cider, feeling a pleasant warmth spread through me. For the first time in ages, I feel, free. Maybe my father had been right to keep me close all these years; maybe I wasn't ready for this world of strangers and their sharp eyes. But as I watch the colors and movement around me, I know I wouldn't trade this feeling for anything.

Lost in my thoughts, I wander past the terrace doors and step outside, onto a balcony that overlooks a sprawling garden filled with glistening fountains and delicate white flowers. I take a deep breath, savoring the crisp night air, and let my fingers trace the cool stone railing wrapped in ivy.

Then I hear it—a quiet, amused hum from just behind me. I turn, startled, and my gaze falls on a young man leaning casually against the doorway, watching me with a slight, crooked smile.

He's tall, with jet-black hair that falls in tousled waves, and eyes that are strikingly, disarmingly blue. He wears a dark, impeccably tailored suit, with a midnight-blue shirt beneath, the top buttons undone enough to reveal tan skin beneath. There's an effortless elegance to him, a quiet confidence, like he belongs in every corner of this glittering world.

"I didn't mean to startle you," he says, stepping forward with a charming half-smile. "But I had to wonder what you were doing all by yourself out here. Parties like these are hardly tolerable alone."

I raise an eyebrow, feeling my cheeks warm under his gaze. "And yet here you are, all by yourself."

He chuckles, eyes gleaming with a mischievous glint. "Fair, though technically, I'm not alone anymore, am I?"

I laugh, feeling my earlier irritation with my father melt away as I look at him. "I suppose not. Though I doubt you're here to keep me company."

He raises a hand in mock innocence. "You wound me. I've been nothing but kind since we met."

"Have we met?" I ask, tilting my head. "I think I would've remembered," I say with an angled head and something flickers in his sapphire gaze that I can't quite place.

He seems to consider this, tilting his head thoughtfully. "No, we haven't officially met," he concedes. "Which feels like a shame, honestly."

The corners of my mouth lift in a smile. "So, are you going to introduce yourself, or are we just going to continue being strangers?"

His eyes sparkle with something like amusement as he extends a hand. "Strangers sounds nice," I say flippantly, looking out at the Dawn Courts skyline, a sliver of the sun barely visible. This party was supposed to last until dawn, until the sun returned and the entire court could watch the outmatched sunrise of this court.

I wasn't ready to commit to making any friends, I had just gained my freedom, I wished to revel in it for a few moments longer, nameless was my way of doing it.

He laughs, a rich, genuine sound that makes my heart skip. "Alright, stranger," he says, leaning casually against the railing beside me. "What brings you out to the edge of the ballroom?"

"Some air," I reply with a shrug, looking out over the garden. "I hadn't expected to feel so claustrophobic."

He nods, understanding flickering in his eyes. "Parties can be exhausting. All the faces, all the names. It's nice to step away."

I glance at him. "You sound like you've been to one too many of these."

"Oh, you have no idea," he says with a grin. "I think I've been to so many I could navigate them in my sleep."

"And here I thought you looked like you were having fun," I tease.

"Maybe I'm a good actor," he says, his tone playful. "Or maybe I just needed a reason to enjoy it."

I roll my eyes, but I can't help the smile that tugs at my lips. "Does that line actually work for you?"

"More often than you'd think," he says, laughing. "But since you're clearly immune to charm, let me try a different approach." He holds out a hand, bowing slightly. "Would you do me the honor of a dance, stranger?"

I hesitate, glancing back at the ballroom, but something about his easy smile, the spark of humor in his eyes, makes me want to take his hand. I place mine in his, letting him lead me closer.

The music inside changes as his lithe fingers make contact with my waist, shifting to a slower, softer melody. He adjusts my stance, guiding me with a gentleness that surprises me. There's a warmth in his gaze that makes my heart pound just a little faster as I look up at him.

"So, princess," he murmurs as we begin to move, his voice barely audible over the music echoing from inside. "Are you here with family? Or did you sneak away to attend the most boring ball of the season?"

I laugh, looking up at him with feigned offense. "Boring? I'll have you know I'm having a wonderful time."

"Are you?" he asks, eyes twinkling. "Or are you just saying that to make me feel better?"

"Maybe a little of both," I admit, a smile tugging at my lips. "And you? Do you always call balls like these boring?"

"Only when my mother's not here to overhear," he replies, grinning. "But tell me, how did you get here?"

I hesitate, wondering how much to tell him, but there's something about his gaze that makes it feel safe, to be honest. "My father brought me," I say, keeping it vague. "He doesn't let me out much."

"Really?" The stranger's eyebrows lift in surprise. "I would've pegged you for someone who went wherever they pleased."

"I'd like to think so," I reply, laughing. "But apparently, my father has other ideas."

He raises an eyebrow, curiosity in his eyes. "What does he think you'll do? Start a rebellion?"

"Maybe," I say with a shrug, a playful glint in my eyes. "He's probably right."

His laughter is warm, and he holds me a little closer as we spin across the marbled balcony floor. "Well, if you ever need a partner in crime, let me know. I'm an excellent accomplice."

I arch an eyebrow, smirking. "How do I know you're any good at sneaking out?"

He grins, leaning down until his voice is a soft murmur in my ear. "Trust me, princess. You don't survive my family without learning how to slip away now and then."

I glance up, meeting his gaze, intrigued by the way his words hold a hidden depth, a story he's not telling. "Your family sounds, interesting."

"That's one way to put it," he says with a chuckle, eyes flickering with a momentary shadow. But it's gone as quickly as it came, replaced by his easy charm. "Let's just say they have certain expectations."

"Well, then maybe we have more in common than I thought," I say, softening.

"Seems that way," he murmurs, his voice softening too. There's a gentleness in his gaze now, and I feel his hands hold me just a little more securely as if he's anchoring me.

We dance like this, quietly, for a few moments, simply enjoying the music and each other's company. He spins me once, drawing a soft laugh from me, and when he pulls me back, I'm closer than I realized, his breath warm on my cheek.

"Do you think we'd have met otherwise?" he asks quietly, his voice barely above a whisper.

I blink, a little caught off guard by the question. "Maybe. Maybe not."

"Fate has a funny way of working, doesn't it?" He's still holding me close, his gaze warm and thoughtful, and I feel the world fade away a little as we look at each other.

"It does," I reply, almost breathless, my heart pounding in my chest.

He's quiet for a moment, his eyes glimmering with something I couldn't place. "I hope—I hope fate lets us meet again."

For a moment, I forget about the ballroom, about my father's rules, about everything except him. I don't know who he is, or why he's here, but something about him feels achingly familiar, like we're old friends, like I've known him in some other life.

When the music fades, he slowly lets me go, and I feel the loss of his warmth, his presence. He steps back, bowing with a playful, courtly gesture.

I scoff a laugh and give my best attempt at a curtsy. "You're a natural," He muses as the music dies down and I sidle closer to the balcony, eager to look out at the world beyond that I had never witnessed before.

The balcony feels almost timeless as we stand there, his presence beside me grounding in a way I hadn't expected. We talk as if there are no constraints, just the night around us, a quiet space carved out in the world. His words flow easily, a mix of humor and teasing, sometimes dipping into moments of gentleness that make my chest tighten.

I can't help but keep stealing glances at him, trying to memorize the sharp line of his jaw and the warm, playful gleam in his eyes. And every time I meet that gaze, I feel the strange, unshakable familiarity tugging at me—a whisper in the back of my mind that insists I know him, that maybe I've known him far longer than this one night. But I can't let myself get swept away in that feeling. Not yet.

We talk for hours about anything and everything, I tell him about the flowers below us, and what they symbolize, and in return, he tells me of the stars in the sky, the constellations, and each of their names.

We talked about things that I never voiced before, but there was a steady comfort in his presence that made me feel like I could confess even my deepest mistakes and he'd nod with understanding in his eyes, not a flicker of judgment.

We didn't go into the ballroom the entire night, had taken up the small seating area that curved around the side of the building I hadn't noticed before.

"So, princess," he says, smirking as he leans his back into his chair, arms folded in a lazy, practiced ease, "if you weren't here, what kind of trouble would you be getting yourself into?"

I think for a moment, letting my fingers graze the ivy-covered stone. "Trouble? I'm sure I don't know what you're talking about."

"Oh, I'm sure you don't." He smirks, an amused glint in his eyes. "I pegged you for the rebellious type the moment I set eyes on you." He goes on.

I shrug, glancing out over the shadowed garden below. "Well, clearly you don't know me very well," I reply in a snarky tone, my lips curling into a teasing smile. "Perhaps I'm a perfectly obedient daughter who follows all the rules."

His laugh is low and rich, sending a pleasant shiver through me. "Now, I find that hard to believe," he murmurs, tilting his head to meet my gaze. "A wildflower like you, growing in a gilded cage? No, I think you're meant to be out there—" he gestures to the dark mountains beyond the garden, "—living on your own terms."

My cheeks warm under his gaze, but I lift my chin. "And you? What about you, oh wise stranger? Surely you're not the type to follow anyone's rules but your own."

"Oh, I'd follow them," he says, his voice dropping to a playful murmur, "if you were the one making them."

I feel my face flush at his words, but I can't resist matching his grin. "Be careful what you wish for. I'd hate to ruin that roguish charm with a few boundaries."

"Boundaries?" He raises an eyebrow, laughing. "I don't believe you’re the kind of girl to put them in place, life's far more interesting without them, don't you think?" He cocks his head in an all too demeaning fashion, as if he knows me better than to even suggest such a thing. I can’t help but smile at the familiarity, of being truly seen and known, it was foreign, but welcomed. “More than you know,” I reply, a softer atmosphere taking over with the tenderness in my voice.

"So, what does someone like you dream of seeing?"

It's a simple enough question, but I find myself hesitating, surprised by how much I want to answer, how easy it feels to open up to him. "I want to see everything," I admit, my voice almost a whisper. "Every corner of the world. The mountains, the seas. I want to taste the air in different places and feel the ground under my feet where no one else has walked. I want to be free."

It's more than I've ever shared with anyone, especially someone who doesn't even know my name. I swallow, feeling suddenly vulnerable, but when I glance at him, his gaze is warm, and understanding. As if he knows exactly what I mean.

"I think freedom suits you," he says softly like he's revealing a secret. "It's in your eyes—the way they look past this place, like you're already somewhere else entirely."

His words send a shiver through me, and for a moment, I can't find any words at all. So instead, I look away, watching as the sky shifts from deep indigo to a paler shade, hinting at the dawn. "Maybe one day I'll get to see it all," I say, more to myself than to him.

"I have a feeling you will." His voice is quiet, almost wistful, and I glance back to find him watching me with that same, unsettling familiarity, as if he, too, feels this strange pull between us.

We fall into an easy silence after that, leaning against the railing side by side as the stars start to fade. Occasionally, he says something that makes me laugh, and I find myself telling him things I'd never tell anyone else—about the books I love, the dreams I've buried, the way I crave a life that's different from the one set out for me.

He listens, really listens, his attention never wavering. And in return, he shares pieces of himself, though I sense he's careful, holding back just as much as I am. He speaks of a family that has expectations, a life lived beneath a weight that isn't always visible. I don't pry, but I nod, letting him know I understand.

The sky lightens, a faint glow spreading over the horizon, and I can't help but feel a pang of regret as the world around us starts to wake.

"You know," he murmurs, his voice low, "I think this might be one of the best conversations I've ever had."

I laugh softly, though my heart aches a little at the thought of this night ending. "You don't get many opportunities to talk with strangers on balconies?"

"Not like this," he says, glancing down at me, his expression unreadable. "Not with someone like you."

There's something so earnest in his gaze that I feel my resolve waver. I want to tell him who I am, to share every piece of myself, but a part of me resists, clinging to this fleeting anonymity.

"Thank you," I say softly, and I mean it more than he could ever know.

"For what?" he asks, his tone warm.

"For reminding me that people can be kind. That they can listen." I smile up at him, feeling a strange mixture of sadness and hope. "I think I needed that."

The first light of dawn glimmers on the horizon, casting a soft glow over the garden. Slowly, he reaches out, taking my hand in his, his touch warm and steady. I feel his thumb brush gently over my knuckles, and it sends a wave of warmth through me, a silent promise in his touch.

"Maybe one day," he says softly, his voice barely a whisper, "we'll meet again. Maybe fate will give us that."

I can't bring myself to say anything, so I simply nod, letting myself savor the feel of his hand in mine for just a moment longer.

As the first rays of sunlight touch the garden below, he releases my hand, stepping back with a soft smile. He gives me one last, lingering look before turning, disappearing through the terrace doors and back into the world from which he came.

I stay there, watching as the light fills the sky, feeling like I've lost something precious and found something rare all at once.

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[ameliathornromance]

9:24am:

“Okay, okay, I have to go! I’ll be late for the train!” You push your Orc away, laughing as he tries to press another, final kiss onto your lips.

Chuckling, he locks the door behind the two of you and the pair of you set off down your flats hall and to the lift. “Make sure you have a good day today, yeah?” He tells you as the lift dings and opens.

“You too, tell me whether or not you managed to tell your friends about the house warming tonight.” You smile. Today was the day, from 3 o’clock onwards, it was go time. You felt guilty… A little. But you knew that the guilt would be worth it if it meant that you got to surprise your Boyfriend with the best Anniversary party he’d never forget.

He’d caught you mid planning – you were sat on your phone looking at cake recipes and he just had to look over your shoulder and ruin the fun. Lucky you were able to cover by saying it was a ‘house-warming party.’

“But, we moved in like, two weeks ago?” He’d said, smile fading on his face. “Aren’t you supposed to have them the day you move in?”

“That’s just too chaotic!” You said, laughing a little too hard. “Who has one of those on moving in day? Talk about overwhelming, am I right?” Your heart squeezed when he turned away, eyebrows furrowed in clear disappointment.

You knew he thought you’d forget. Everything was so… much at the moment. Coupled with moving in a few weeks ago, you had plausible deniability to be forgetful.

No, you reminded yourself as the lift descended to the ground floor. No time for guilt, you had to get this show on the road.

“Of course I will, you’ve been planning it for weeks, of course I’ll tell everyone.” Your Orc’s smile faltered slightly. Did you really forget such an important date as your anniversary? Your Orc thought.

Sure, he might have jumped the gun a bit, bought you both a flat to live in for an early present, but who doesn’t get a little overexcited about two years with the love of their life?

There wasn’t even a ‘happy anniversary’ when you both woke up. Your Orc hadn’t said anything either – he’d already said it a hundred times over when he was showing you the flat he bought… you saying it back once on the day wasn’t that much to ask for, was it?

“You okay?” You asked, eyebrows furrowed.

His smile returned, more vacant this time. “Yeah, I’m fine.”

And with that, the two of you set off to work.

10:56am:

Excusing yourself to the bathroom, you dial your partner.

“Hello?”

“Sadie’s annoying me again, she can never keep her mouth shut about her son.” Locking the cubicle door, sitting on a cubicle toilet with the lid down, you fume. “She’s such a boy mum.”

“You know it’s polite to say hello back, right?” your Orc replied, a smirk in his voice. “Don’t tell me she’s coming to the party tonight.” He’d heard all about your vendetta against Sadie, the boy-mother who couldn’t keep her spawn out of her conversation for two minutes. If Sadie was as bad as she sounded, your boyfriend didn’t want to meet her.

“God no.” You said. The bathroom door opened and closed, you lowered your voice, “if I have to hear about ‘precious Braydon is the top of his class again!’ in my own home I might throttle her. Being a parent is fine, but if you’re going to make it your whole personality, don’t even have kids!”

Your Orc sighed from the other end of the phone: “babe, if you’re just calling me to complain about Sadie-”

“No, that wasn’t the only thing!” You said, quickly. “Um… I was hoping that you could stop and get some… fish for tonight.” You lied. There were things that still needed to be done at home, you couldn’t have your Orc coming home too early. Your friends were already at your place, helping you out by decorating. You just needed to cook and do some final touches.

“Fish?” He asked, doubtfully.

“Mhm.” You affirmed. The bathroom sink ran, shut off before the entrance swung open and closed again. “Please? I forgot that June is pescatarian and now I’m going to look like a total bitch for not thinking of her.” While it was true that June was pescatarian, you had to keep your Orc out of the flat. That, and there was already some freshly caught Place at the flat, skilfully hidden away in the freezer.

Everything had to be perfect, including making your friend feel more comfortable.

Your heart twinges as your Orc Boyfriend sighs down the phone. “Okay, I’ll stop by the Fish Monger's on my way home.”

You wanted to tell him that you’re sorry, sorry that he has to go out and spend his money to help you make this surprise… but there are necessary evils in this world.

“Thank you, I love you.”

“I love you too.”

3:15pm:

“We’re in trouble,” was the first thing you heard on the phone. Your best friend had called you, “there weren’t enough streamers, so we improvised.”

“What did you do?” Stomach dropping, you held your breath. It can’t be that bad, right? You reassured yourself, it’s not like your best friend is crazy, they’ve got-

“… You remember June’s Hen night?”

Oh no.

“We to cut up her old sash!” Your best friend exclaims, “it’s shiny and glittery, and she said it was fine!”

You face palm. Leaving work early to get home for this surprise was crucial, you didn’t have time for last minute stops. Your Orc Boyfriend had bought the pair of you a flat for Gods sake, you needed to give him something amazing back too. And it can’t be amazing if there’s the cut up words: ‘Bride to Be’ decorating the room.

He might get the wrong idea if he looks too closely at them. “Look, I’ll head to that party shop on the way back home so we can clean this up.” Rubbing the bridge of your nose, you bid your goodbye and got on the train.

5:33pm:

Running a sleeve along your forehead, pulling out the last cake from the oven and setting it on the side, the door bell rang.

Dread shot through you. Before you could even remove your oven gloves, June was already rushing to the door.

Thank God for the Fish distraction, you thought as a few of your Orc’s friends stepped through the door: An Elf – Leo, your Orc’s college friend, a Goblin – Blik, childhood friend of your Orcs, and Fox-hybrid – Val, your Orc’s best friend from work. “Can you get started on the icing and prepare the wine?” You ask them.

Val let’s out a snicker at your haggard appearance but glides over. “Sure sweetie, what can I do to get started?”

After explaining to Val what you needed help with, you turned to Leo. “You brought the flute, right?”

The Elf gave a nod, his long hair swaying. “Are you alright, dear?” asked Blik, jumping up onto the breakfast table stool opposite you. He leans against the counter, tilting his head. “Do you want me to do something? You look like a mess.”

“Really?!” Your voice cracks at the obvious statement. Everything had to be perfect, of course you were a mess.

Leo was by your side and taking away the oven mitts from you, “leave this to me and Val, go freshen up. Wouldn’t want him to worry about you during the party you prepared.”

“But-” you start, but Leo silences you with a smile at you. “You can relax a little now, we’re all here to help.”

And you did. Leo was always good with words, partly why he and your Boyfriend had stayed close for so long – because he was always good at calming down situations.

Leaving the pair to finish the work, you evacuate to your bedroom.

6:30pm:

Your Orc didn’t believe what you said on the phone. Not one bit. You, who was super conscious about the people around you? Forget that someone had a dietary preference? No. That wasn’t like you.

But never the less, he walked into the Fish Monger’s and grabbed salmon, halibut, trout and cod. A variety of things – he wasn’t sure what June would like – and walking out of the shop, he checks his phone. No calls, no texts.

He sighs. There’s something going on here.

And then it clicked. Smiling, he tosses the bag of fish in the back of his car and clambers inside.

Your Orc refuses to believe that you would be so forgetful.

You had a surprise, didn’t you?

6:59pm:

Adjusting the pot of flowers on the coffee table, you bit your lip. “(Y/N). Stop.” Your best friend takes your hands in theirs. “It’s okay, everything will be perfect.”

You take one last look at the flower pot and sigh. Eyes sweeping the room one last time, make sure that the balloons are all inflated, streamers and bunting are where they’re supposed to be and that the food is ready to go.

The front door jangles, you dart for the lights, your friends duck behind the sofa and your Orc’s companions hide behind the breakfast bar.

Darkness shrouds the in-house occupants as you stand, back flush against the wall, praying that your Boyfriend doesn’t spot you when you’re so close to the front door.

The hallway light spills in and casts his large shadow further into the front room.

He doesn’t move for a moment, watching the darkness carefully. Finally, you switch the light.

As soon as the lights come on, everyone jumps up. “Surprise!”

Your Orc’s eyes widen, the edges of his lips curling upwards. He knew it. This wasn’t

“Happy Anniversary!” You approach him and take him by the arm. You smile up at him, “come in,”

“Wait, what is this?” Your Orc Boyfriend plays dumb, “I thought this was a house-warming party.”

“Well, it kind of is.” You rub the back of your head, “but… I felt bad. You bought this whole flat for us and… There’s nothing equal that I could give back to you. So, I thought that, since this was an anniversary present, I’d set up a party with a few of our friends.” You beam.

Your Orc’s eyes scoop around the room, friends smiling at him and beaming. “They helped me get some of this stuff ready of course, my friends did the decorations and yours helped me with baking… Leo said he’s also going to play flute for us.”

The Elf nods, holding up the silvery instrument.

As everyone went to raid the numerous amount of dishes you had prepared, your Boyfriend looks at you as if you were some dreamy mirage.

“What’s that for?” You ask, raising an eyebrow as guests chatter to each other.

Your Orc shakes his head. “Nothing.”

10:21pm:

“I have a confession.” Your Orc says.

The flat had emptied of it’s guests, only leaving you two behind. Sitting on the sofa, wine glasses in hand and surrounded by the chaos that party goers leave behind. Party popper streamers littering the ground and coffee table, over populated with plates and empty wine glasses.

“What?” you ask, smiling.

“I kind of figured out that you were planning a surprise.”

Your smile falters, “did someone tell you? It was Val wasn’t it? That slippery-”

“No, no.” Your Orc tucks a lock of hair behind your ear, “I realised while I was on the way back from the Fisherman's.”

“Oh.” You purse your lips. “Was it that obvious?”

“It’s not like you to forget something so important.” He shrugs. “Even if it was last minute, you remembered that June was pescatarian. That’s what gave it away.”

You let on a weak grin.

“And that’s why I wasn’t all that surprised when I came in.” He took another swig from his wine glass.

“I’ll make sure to do better next time.” You say, looking at the mess in front of you. All that effort to keep the party a secret and it still flunked.

“Don’t be like that,” your Orc turned you to face him, thumb against your chin. “There was nothing to be better at, I loved the surprise… Even if it wasn’t really one.” And with a kiss on your forehead, the pair of you settled into the sofa, falling asleep in each others arms.

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[minkdelovely]

I am jet-lagged and emotionally wrought, but nevertheless so fucking thrilled to have finally gotten the time to sit down and read this absolutely IMMACULATE chapter.

Hazel… I feel like I say this all the time, but how you manage to keep weaving this magnificent web of yours week after week is truly awe-inspiring. We’re getting close to the end, but you still make sure to impart as much emotional impact as possible. I believe this is the first time we ever got a solid block of Alastor’s POV, and if I’m being honest, idk if I would survive more 😭😂♥️

The mood of this chapter was so needed — they’ve been going through so much, and something was bound to snap. So to see them get closer on the other side is just so rewarding. I just want them to be happy god damn it! 🥲

I know you don’t typically foray into angst, but I’m not surprised you knocked it out of the park Hazel! I hope you’re just feeling more and more proud of yourself with each chapter! ♥️

✧ ✧ ✧ ✧ ✧ ✧     ✧     ✧ ✧ ✧ ✧ ✧ ✧

Where had she walked in New Orleans? Where did she meet Alastor’s father? You had to wonder what he had looked like. Surely he was handsome. Was he kind to her, like Alastor was to you? Or had it been a one night stand?

A small smile, she didn’t look like the type but looks could be deceiving. Alastor didn’t look like the kind of man who kissed bloodied cheeks and tossed heads into holes.

ruminating on Alastor’s mom is gonna get me every fucking time tbh 😩 and the second part with Alastor’s deceiving looks… that pretty face and charm will take him everywhere!

You knew he wasn’t a virgin, and he’d mentioned before he’d been happily coupled with others before his preferences became their frustrations.

BABYYY OMG THIS WENT STRAIGHT THROUGH MY HEART 😩

Did they properly express their gratitude? Doubtful. How many times did he acquiesce to his partner’s wants and then be treated like it was the expectation and not an exception of his affections?

no one will care about him the way we care about him — it’s simply not possible

The closer you got, the more nervous you were to see him. Not knowing how he felt, be it angry or worried or a mix of the two, was doing you in.

imagining him angry is honestly so scary; my anxiety just ticked up 😩

From insulted to panicked, you realized you’d forgotten about your face. Pushing the heavy wooden door open to the bathroom, your reflection caught you off guard. Your eyes were encircled in black, scleras red, blush smeared into your hairline, and your lips were soft around the edges from misplaced lipstick. You looked like a wreck in human form.

HONESTLY MY WORST NIGHTMARE

With one more glance at your disheveled appearance you sheepishly returned to the entrance and peeked into the dining room again. Everyone was dressed so nicely. You could imagine Alastor fitting in quite well.

WHY DID THIS MAKE MY HEART CLENCH?? 😩♥️

“I thought you’d be more fatale and less femme. Anyways, your deadweight’s in the alley.” 

MIMZYYYY!! tbh this is such a perfect introduction for her ❤️‍🔥

He turned, smiled, and rushed towards you. Taking your head in his hands he kissed you on the lips, and when you pulled back he leaned in, tongue pressing into your mouth.

BRUV WE ARE IN PUBLIC!!

Parks were different. Parks were made for such things. 

not only for kisses 👀 hehehe

He was drunk. Completely smashed. Normally you wouldn’t care, drunk Alastor could be quite cute. But you’d been prepared for and in need of someone to talk to. Someone to ease the mess of feelings in your gut. Instead you were handed a job as caretaker and impromptu driver. You’d have to wait until the morning for any kind of sympathetic comfort.

the way I immediately feel the frustration and disappointment. he’s not even just drunk, but SLOPPILY so 😩

Alastor pulled his arm from your hold, “At that little park. Audubon.” He pointed west, saying it with a perfect accent. “Anyway, I’m gonna kill him. Maybe right now! Did I tell ya? I know where he lives.” He crossed the street without looking. 

LET THE BABYSITTING COMMENCE 🫠

“Alastor, yes. He’s got two kids, a wife. He stays out late, obsessin’ over us no doubt.”

my cortisol has spiked, but there’s something about this line that just makes me smile 😂🙈

“Who are you to stop me? To tell me,” a pause as he lost his balance and leaned too far to the right, catching himself with a sneer to his own legs. He turned back and continued on his way, “what I can and cannot do.” You stopped. The sound of his mother’s shoes no longer snapping behind him made Alastor pause his clumsy march and look back at you. “Are ya really not comin’?” His sharp tone had shifted down to a whiny, almost pleading one.

so much here… the hurt from his words, but also just how clearly we can see that he’s barely keeping it together. wonderfully executed, my love ���♥️

Hiding yourself from him felt like betrayal, so you’d abandoned it some time ago. Your chin quivered, hands gripping the sides of your dress in stress. Your eyes were pleading with him to not do this. To not throw you away so easily. Diminish you with one slurred sentence. It felt like a dare to your pride. A choice, your self respect or his attention. It was a rhetorical question, as the answer would be a revelation to an entirely different quandary. 

UGHHHH IT HURTS SO GOOD!! he really is coming off as so callous right now — it’s brutal 😩

Alastor stared you down, his height finally mattering in a way you didn’t like. 

SHIVERS

The only way he could ever truly hurt you was with that cutting muscle behind his teeth. 

HAZEL OH MY GODDDD 😭🫠

Turning around, you walked the way you’d both just come because truth be told you had no idea how to get home from where you were. You just needed to get away from him before you said something you didn’t mean. Before he said something you couldn’t forget. 

as heartbreaking as this is, I admire that Autumn is walking away before it gets worse and not like~ digging in from the pain. i don’t know that i’d be that strong 😭

You’d barely gotten five steps when you heard a clank to the ground. Turning just enough to see behind you, you noticed the car door key on the sidewalk. Alastor’s grin wide and childlike.

BITCH!! 😭

He slumped against the passenger side window the entire car ride home. You struggled with the shifting stick, and he didn’t offer any help. A petulant brat pouting into the glass.

tbh nothing I hate more than a tense car ride… ALASTOR GOD DAMN IT!! 😩

“Suit yourself. I don’t have patience for this, Alastor. You’re acting like a brat when I’m the one who had the hard night.” You turned to go upstairs before coming back, something your mother always did in arguments that you hated, “And I really don’t appreciate the way you’re treating me. We’ll talk in the morning.”

THE TURNING BACK IS ALWAYS SUCH A KNIFE IN THE GUT

It wasn’t until you were under the covers, alone, did you begin to cry. It was mostly anger, if you were honest. But a good dose of self pity mixed in. Practically running to find him, after thinking about just him for hours before, and to be met with a drunken child was disappointing beyond measure. And the disrespect of tossing his keys…

THE KEYS!!! IT WAS SUCH A SLAP IN THE FACE!! 😩

You could remember the uneasy feeling you had when your mother would leave you with friends when she had work. How every inch moved felt like you were brushing into poison ivy, it wasn’t your space, you didn’t know the rules or the norms. Now you felt you no longer knew your place in Alastor’s home. 

this is truly such a horrific feeling… i hate that we’ve all seemed to feel the sting of it 🥺

Which was fine, you lied to yourself. You just needed to know the parameters so you could stay within them. Not take things too seriously. Not expect too much from him.

Not give too much of yourself. 

this is such a specific form of fear of rejection… I can relate only too well 😩

You couldn’t believe you had wanted to tell him you loved him. How long had you choked back those words for your own personal safety, just to be in a man’s home far from your own with no real way back.

I’M WRITHING OH MY GODDD THE HURT AND THE SHAMEEE WHYY??

A shiny and sunlit movie played of him slipping off your shoes and putting yours on his feet. 

I am honestly never not thinking about the whole thing with the shoes…

Lying down again, you tried to take deep breaths. He’d said he wasn’t mad at you. Was he not allowed to make mistakes? Could he not be angry around you without you taking it personally even when he said it wasn't for you? That was unfair of you. You were expecting a drunk man to speak clearly and with well thought out perception of how he’d be heard. The reasons for his drunkenness were unknown, and when you stopped to consider things more, you’d never just out right told him how you felt. Until you were upset and going up the stairs. Admittedly, to your defense, he was very drunk. 

this is genuinely one of the most emotional mature things I’ve ever read in my entire life — and something I’m gonna try to keep in mind the next time I’ve lost my temper

The idea of him waking up to an empty home and a migraine almost brought you back to tears. Alastor’s distaste for being alone had become clear, in the way he used to go out often just to have dance company, how he so quickly pulled you into his home and lap. You’d feel his heart break from across the river if you up and left while he slept. 

and I’m full circle to wanting nothing more than to cuddle this man… Hazel I swear to fucking god 🫠♥️

The best way to find out if someone was worth trusting was to trust them. Alastor had been worth so much more than you’d expected a person could be. This was just a hiccup. 

NO WORDS JUST MY HEART WEEPING

Alastor, what more could he do? What on earth could he possibly get away with? He had no interest in stepping out, and he couldn’t easily date when his hobbies and home were crime scenes.

GETTING BIG FEELINGS AGAIN FOR OUR LONELY, MURDEROUS BOY 🥺♥️

He would make it better. He would say whatever really happened in the morning and fix it. You could trust that and let your eyes finally close. Alastor hadn’t failed you yet, and you believed he wouldn’t start now. 

Alastor, darling, for the love of god please I’m begging for clarification 😭

When you woke up, it was early. Unnaturally early for you. But stress did that. Whatever the opposite of Christmas morning, that was the mechanism pulling you out of bed as the sun was just beginning to rise. 

BEEN THERE AND IT SUCKS

He was still asleep on the couch when you crept down the stairs. He looked like shit. Which made you feel a little good. If he looked perfect it’d be immensely dissatisfying.

this was such a glorious way to humanize our otherwise ethereal husband 🙏🏻✨

You heard the creak of the screen door and felt the old wood bend behind you as he finally stumbled out. He plopped down beside you, before lowering himself to his right side and resting his head on your lap. He stared out at the greenhouse like you did. Your hands twitched to touch him, but you kept them to your sides. 

AUTUMN I TRULY ADMIRE YOUR STRENGTH

“You are my darling.” He said with a raspy voice hoarse from an intoxicated dehydration. You finally looked at him, but he didn’t meet the gaze. “That’s who you are.”

“You sure didn’t make me feel like your anything last night.” Your tone was cold and sharp, spoken like a stranger scolding another. Stay strong, you thought. Make him understand how he made you feel before, even if you were already cooling off. 

You saw the fabric of your white slip turn a storm grey beneath his face, tears tumbling across the bridge of his nose before seeping into the night dress.

LIKE GENUINELY SO FUCKING STRONG — I WOULD HAVE FOLDED LIKE A WET NEWSPAPER JESUS CHRIST 😭

He nodded, slick and smooth face gliding over the silk. A sob, choked and broken as he buried his head again into your lap. “I’d never felt so helpless, I just…I responded very selfishly. I’m sorry.” 

The heavy and hot indignation finally began to cool in you, and you let yourself run your fingers through his hair. 

AHHHHH THIS IS PRECISELY WHAT I WANT: TO PET THIS SAD LITTLE MAN

You thought for a moment. The safety in Alastor’s killings were the degrees of separation between him and his targets. The plausible deniability. The lack of obvious motive. If you could find that same safety net when killing Brady, then, sure. “When he’s no longer a threat to us. When no one will be shocked to hear he’s dead.” 

YOU BAD BITCH OMGGGG Kenneth must be feeling a chill down his spine as we speak!! 😂

“I’m beginning to think it doesn’t matter.” Alastor inched his body closer to you. “I’ve never been a bigger failure in all my life than last night. In every way. To myself and to you.” His head turned, the soft and sharp features alike of his face burying into your lap. A gentle shake of his shoulders as he lost his fight to not weep openly into you broke your heart. He let out a weak and muffled series of sounds, followed by a louder and clearer, “Do you want to leave me?”

I ACTUALLY CAN’T FUCKING HANDLE THIS. THE FACT THAT I CAN’T COMFORT HIM MYSELF IS A FUCKING CRIME!!

You pulled his head up by the back of his collar. With your first good look at him in the crisp orange morning light you could see his lips were red and raw from nervous chewing, his hair lacking its usual shine or form. The right side of his face was wet. Tears new and old began to reroute and slide down his high cheeks and pointed jaw. They met at the very bottom of his chin, for the first time in their short lives, and dropped onto you in little couplings. Falling like they were made to always do just that. Just now. Just for him. A fate you could understand so naturally it was bordering on unnerving. A love story you were sure you were playing out.

HAZEL SHAKESPEARE IS GETTING US GOOD Y’ALL HOW I’M STILL CONSCIOUS DEFIES SCIENCE

How rarely you’d seen a man cry. In the past perhaps you’d have been put off. Cringed. Considered it a pathetic show of weakness and lost respect for them. But all you could feel now was a pain so deep and all encompassing it felt as if your skin was cracking off. A dry river bed in the heat of summer. What had been there before? Disgust? Indifference? Even his tears were of a magnitude more important than anyone else’s. Every piece of him mattered more to you. 

this whole paragraph is a baseball bat to my psyche

You were in that worst kind of love; Unconditional. 

SLAP MY ASS AND CALL ME MEGARA

“Give me a little time. I’ll show you how stupid of a question that is over our first fight,” Your thumbs wiped away his tears. The handkerchief came back to view, so you gingerly took it and dabbed the sacred lacrima from his cheeks. You took his head between both hands and stared unflinching into the sweet, sun kissed brown of his eyes, “I never want to leave you. Even if I do, even if somehow I’m convinced to go, you’ll have to rip your heart out of my cold dead hands or I’ll take it with me.” 

I’VE LOST ANY AND ALL ARTICULATION

Another torrent of tears from him and a reply so earnest and so sure your body leaned back with surprise, “But, it’s not mine anymore. Isn’t that obvious?” He half whispered it into the ether.

HAZEL PLEASE I’M SO WEAK IT’S TOO BEAUTIFUL OH MY GOD

“If you ever speak to me like you did last night again, with that sharp tone and cruel words, sober or not…” you trailed off, begging him to not make you say it. Don’t force you to make threats you didn’t want to keep. Things you’d be ashamed of not following through with. Little self failures you were genetically predisposed of committing. 

“You can take my heart with you.” 

AAAHHHHH I CAN’T BELIEVE I GET A SECOND DOSE OF THIS THROUGH ALASTOR’S POV — I am floundering and grateful all at once 😩♥️

- — - — - — - — -

A trickle of fear dropped down his spine. Worst case scenario didn’t quite exist as some ladder of concerns, he just felt tremendous fear you were dead. That was the only rung. Had someone been watching you, that he didn’t notice as he was too preoccupied with watching Brady? 

ALASTORRR I’m not strong enough for this!! 😭♥️

Alastor didn’t move. Hand still in the air between them. Johnny registered the distinct lack of light in Alastor’s eyes. He took a deep breath in, Alastor looked like a photograph of a man before him. There but, just a facsimile of human.

he’s in such disbelief omggg 🥺 this paints such a visual!!

Alastor’s mouth opened and then closed. He swallowed, then smiled, and his head did a little tilt. Ruth looked from him to Johnny. Alastor’s rolodex of canned responses spun infinitely around in his mind. Nothing was catching. There wasn’t a facial expression or comment or body posture in existence he had prepared for this conversation. Because he hadn’t ever predicted such a situation.

baby got the rug pulled out from under his feet 😭

The man he punched? What was his name again? No. He didn’t know where you worked. He didn’t know your name. 

William, for good measure, my darling buck

He was in disarray, a tremble in his hands making him pause and stare at his own body with a loss of recognition.

I love how he’s so immediately ready to pay whatever price while he’s literally floating away from himself… THE WAY YOU MAKE ME LOVE THIS MAN 🥲

“Hey, I was there that night you cornered Tommy into the booth. I saw you two. The night he hit her. Tommy was a real piece of shit. And I’m glad he’s gone.”

JOHNNY!! 😭😭😭

“Well, go have a drink, try to just… try to stay calm.” Ruth’s words barely entered his mind as he stumbled out into the night. Thoughts came so quickly and in such a multitude that Alastor found his head entirely empty, unable to latch onto any single one.

he’s in such shock; I know we’re going through it with Kenneth but damn this is pulling at my heartstrings 🥺

Long fingers gripped the steering wheel, knuckles an uncomfortable white with the force. How much would it take to snap the wheel? Had anyone ever tried before?

blacking out on the drive and now just so fucking angry… he really knows how to get me scared (for him) 😭

There was no fear you’d say anything. It simply didn’t exist. Even trying to conjure the idea of you telling anyone who he was and what he did was ridiculous to him. A dark part of him knew that notion was born out of a blinding fear and not out of true trust. Because if you did such a thing, it’d mean he’d been wrong about everything. That he couldn’t trust his own decisions anymore. What would he do if you did confess?

WHY ARE THEY SO SIMILAR AND SO NERVOUS ABOUT COMMUNICATING?? 🥲

Alastor made a beeline for the bathrooms just past the entrance of the Grano D'oro. His hair was mussed, his pupils constricted. He drew his bottom lip in and began chewing it nervously, hands pushing his hair back into some form of style. A cough to clear out his tightening throat, he straightened his bow tie and suit jacket. Staring at his reflection, he flinched. An unsettling feeling in his bones that if he stared long enough, it would take on a life of its own.

THE PARALLEL WITH BEING A MESS IN THE BATHROOM AHHHH!!!

Alastor offered passing pleasantries to a few people and smiled as he was escorted past them to the private dining section of Grano D'oro.

picturing him going through the motions is honestly so painful 🥺

Through the kitchen, with a smile and another nod to the staff who all sang his name as he walked by, Alastor made it to the barely visible door to the side.

but I am absolutely not surprised the kitchen staff adores him 🥹

“Little late for you isn’t it? Shouldn’t you be at home with your heart.” She dragged out the word, eyes rolling not at the idea of you but at the idea of someone being more important than a night out.

THIS IS SO FUCKING LOADED — HOW MANY TIMES HAS HE COME TO MIMZY TO TALK ABOUT READER AAAAHHHH!!!

“Oh fuck.” Mimzy added two more fingers to the glass. “What for?”

this feels very me for some reason lmao

Nervously he chewed on his bottom lip, biting red lines into the soft pink flesh. Mimzy stared, unnoticed. She couldn’t remember the last time he looked sad. He did sometimes open up when drunk, perhaps smiling through a pitiful story. Or dancing when she knew he was bruised in either his ego or his heart. But, normally, for Alastor, he kept the obvious and plain emotions kept tightly buttoned up. 

I LOVE THEIR FRIENDSHIP SO MUCH — the way she sees him is just… I can’t put it into words!

“And you can’t just,” she made a fist with her thumb stuck out and dragged it across her neck in a cutting motion, “get rid of the issue?”

Mimzy you rascal!!

Killing Brady would solve everything. And it’d feel good. It’d feel….ah, he leaned back, letting his chest open and fill with the shadow of satisfaction, it’d be the best kill yet. How would he do it, he wondered. It’d have to be special. Slow. Perhaps even over the course of days. Oh, or better yet, perhaps he could show Brady exactly how he disposed of his targets. Piece by piece, taking from him and letting him watch as he buried his parts in deep holes. Giving him all the answers to his questions before snuffing out his nagging life. 

as much as I belittle Kenneth, I am no match for the way Alastor wants to belittle Kenneth

No one would believe Brady, he considered. If someone pulled him back into the shadows of his tree lined street with a blade to his throat and gave him the warning of what was to come if he kept this up….Did he have any allies in this at work?

MUAHAHAHAHA I LOVE ME SOME PARANOID KENNETH! Go get him honey 😂❤️‍🔥😈

In fact, as he took a slower sip of his somehow still full glass, he thought she was quite right. Brady was testing his pride. Hurting the closest person he had to get at him. This was villain activity. 

I just love the irony of Kenneth “Clutching Pearls” Brady being painted A VILLAIN (and it’s not untrue)

Either Brady thought Alastor was all bark and no bite, only attacking men alone at night, or, worse, he thought Alastor was using you.

I can’t lie, his masculine pride is really doing something for me lmao

“Don’t try to distract me. I’m in no mood for such trivial things, Mimz. My love was arrested. At work no less. I’m useless.”

ALASTORRRR I CAN’T WITH YOU SAYING THIS SO CASUALLY!!

You looked different than she’d expected. She wasn’t really sure what she was expecting…actually, on second thought, she had just imagined a female Alastor. Alastor with a perm and an empire waist dress. A little out of fashion but classy. 

why is this so endearing to me? 😭♥️

He’d translate his determination into lavishing you. When you made a yelp and pushed him away, he was confused. Why weren’t you happy to see him? 

and the miscommunication begins 😭🙈

Your breath against his body when you and him first entertained affection came to his mind so intensely he thought maybe he had been pulled back in time.

HEHEHE Alastor I was thinking the same thing earlier 👀

Brady had done this. You’d never– He was just trying to clean up his mess. Why did people think they could dictate his life so freely? Why did what he wanted to do not matter, even though he was just trying to be a good man?

I know it’s drunk brain, but I’m so sad that he’s so quick to believe we would buy into some BS from KENNETH FUCKING BRADY 😭

Alastor paused to stare down at his legs. Et tu, crura? Even his own body was betraying him.

An ‘et tu’ will always get me good but this is also just so adorable to me how offended he is by losing his balance 😂♥️

What an odd question. Had you used your stage name so long you’d forgotten your true one. He laughed, what a silly thing to ask! “Now who is drunk?”

omggg he really didn’t realize what else came out of his mouth!! 😭

Your turning and walking back forward the restaurant made his eyes roll. Oh, the keys still. He pulled them from his pocket, fine, have them. I give up. Failure pile growin’ every minute.

Reminder that pity parties are not cute — our guy fucked 👏🏻 up 👏🏻

But when you turned around, he could feel the rage rolling off of your body. Alastor couldn’t pinpoint what it was about your face that was different than usual, but just beneath your skin he could see a you he’d never met before. One he didn’t care to meet. 

case in point 🫠

The pain behind his sternum was akin to a splintering rod; stiff, solid, and biting every time he moved. No one had ever made him feel this way before. He couldn’t put his finger on the feeling though, it was sadness, and it hurt, but there was something deeper. Something underneath these shallow reactions that dredged up a vague sense of mourning.

oh darling your drunk brain got you so focused on the wrong thing 😭

He slammed the car door behind him and fell into the sofa as soon as he could. Nothing went right. The day had started so wonderfully… you’d felt like a part of himself he’d finally found. And now….

SOBBING

He thought it and immediately winced. Not alone alone. Please, if anyone had been listening, please disregard it. That wasn’t what he wanted. He didn’t mean that at all.

HE CAN’T BE ALONE AND I’LL NEVER BE OKAY ABOUT IT

His thoughts and the room were liquid and floating up into the atmosphere. Alastor was confident he would follow them up. 

we all float here Alastor 😂🎈

Patience… there it was. You’d lost patience with him. And you’d been so patient for months now. Waiting in bars and cars while he killed. Waiting for him while he threw body parts into holes and snapping jaws. Waiting for weeks beside him for inspiration to strike and for him to seek your intimacy in more serious touch.

I thought I’d be okay in the second round but IT HURTS EVEN MORE??

The yellow pillow was pulled to his face to muffle his scream.

this being one of his coping mechanisms when he feels embarrassed/ashamed of himself just… really cuts through me for some reason. There’s an innocence to it that just makes my heart swell 😭♥️

For all he knew, you’d made up your mind already. How odd. He himself was the cat in the box. He could already be dead and not even know it.

WE GET LATIN AND SCHRÖDINGER’S CAT ALL IN ONE CHAPTER?? IT MUST BE CHRISTMAS

The handle of your bag peeking out from under the dresser. It had been in the closet, he had emptied it and put it there for you so he knew that to be a fact.

OH GOD OF COURSE HE WOULD NOTICE THE BAG

He couldn’t find the courage to check. Rushing past it like it could come to life and grab him by the ankles, he went to the nightstand beside his side of the bed and opened the drawer, the bright yellow of your handkerchief calming him just a sliver. If he kept it, you’d have to come back. He could call you and remind you to come back for it. And then he could convince you to stay. His mother always said he was good with words. If you forgot it at his house when you left he’d have a way to bring you home again. Fresh tears welled, the backs of his hands smearing them into his hairline.

I AM A WRITHING FUCKING MESS ON THE FLOOR!! HAZEL!! 😩😭

Sitting on the second to last step of the house, he took a moment to collect himself. Being so frazzled, so undone, wasn’t like him. That foreignness just added to the panic. Bringing a hand to his chest, he opened his shirt to run his fingers down his sternum and to the left. A beating heart, evidence he was the survivor in every encounter he’d been in. But now, half a house between your and his back, why did he feel the most in danger? Rarely did fight or flight kick in, the last time he felt it was rolling around with that man who’d tried to choke the life out of you. 

No strange man here now. Just strange feelings. 

Hazel I actually really fucking can’t with you right now… ♥️

If you didn’t accept it….Alastor had never begged a day in his life, but he could see himself begging you to stay. Perhaps hugging your ankles and promising things he didn’t have. There was no longer an impossibility in what he would do, which was alarming. The idea of him being so pathetic and pitiful was nauseating, however there was no one and nothing that could stop that if you got up and left. 

OH MY GODDDDD

But that was what made you worth the risk. It began as entertainment, but soon enough the dome of your stage extended out and around him, sheltering Alastor in the warm light of your presence. And now as he looked around the railing of his stairs, he was scared to see the exit lights flicker on. 

AAAAAHHHH!!!! AAAHHHHH!!!!!! I AM A MESS!!! AAAHHH!!!

And he’d made you feel like nothing to him. The mountain of derelictions crumbled under the weight of perhaps his biggest failure of the evening, an avalanche of embarrassment and shame washed over him and he didn’t try to impede his tears. Men were only supposed to cry on their wedding day and at funerals, but he supposed this day could still go either way. Could still be as pivotal to his happiness.

ahhhh you’ve gone with the baseball bat again, I see. Excellent choice, my love 🫠

‘I’m sorry’ was just crystals of salt dropped in the gulf.

HAZEL!!! I CAN’T!!!

“I’m beginning to think it doesn’t matter.” He pulled himself closer again. Brady was nothing compared to the threat of losing you. “I’ve never been a bigger failure in all my life than last night. In every way. To myself and to you.” What a joke he was. How high and mighty and curated he tried to be that he forgot the point of it. A shield he turned to you was just a barrier between what he desperately wanted by his side. His tears returned with renewed vigor, the complete breakdown of his manicured image was a tell tale heart he couldn’t smile away anymore, the greatest weakness he was never so happy to call his own. Muffled by your clothing and inviting lap, “I just love you so much…” he choked and then sucked in a deep breath to try and get control of himself, shifting his face to the side again to watch your face for an immediate reaction to his question, “Do you want to leave me?”

A MUTTERED CONFESSION!!! YOU KNOW WHAT HAZEL YOU WIN THE WAR OKAY?? MY CASTLE HAS BEEN SUFFICIENTLY PLUNDERED AND YOU CAN RULE OVER MY SOUL AND DOMAIN AS YOU PLEASE — I WAS A FOOL TO EVER KEEP UP THE FIGHT!

He couldn’t promise himself he wouldn’t keep that little yellow fabric in his hands even after you parted, but he could swear to not try and guilt you back into his arms. 

I really don’t know how I’ve made it this far… I’m being pummeled into DUST

Take his heart back? His mind finally processed the words. It was yours. The morning had proved to him he couldn’t claw it back if he truly wanted, and if he was further honest with himself, he didn’t want it. It was better off with you. He felt the air cooling the once body-warm tears, he whispered what he felt was too vulnerable to say at full volume, “But, it’s not mine anymore. Isn’t that obvious?” His eyes looked down at your feet pointed in towards his own. Was this pathetic display not making it glaringly evident he was a man turned inside out? Guts in his hands and heart in yours?

transforming from dust into vapor…

His body was a tool, and he’d use every tool he had available to make you understand what you meant to him. Would you feel different now, now that he knew you loved him? Would he find your body warmer, more inviting… Could he make you scream your love for him?

Later, he would have to bookmark that idea. The confession was too fragile still, a crystal figurine too precious to even take out of the box. 

AND THEN YOU END THIS FUCKING MASTERPIECE WITH TWO PARAGRAPHS THAT MAKE ME WANT TO FLING MYSELF INTO THE OCEAN (AFFECTIONATE)

A Doe in Fall (Part 13)

⟢HumanAlastor x FemaleBurlesquerReader - A Doe in Fall

A burlesquer with a penchant for conning men, you find your latest game interrupted when your next mark saves you from an aggressive fan— by killing him. The chance encounter left you curious, still half convinced you could complete your normal chase. Unbeknownst to you, you were the one being tracked.

Part 1 - Pretty in Red smut💦 Part 2 - Liar smut💦 Part 3 - A Tragedy smut💦 Part 4 - Enough Part 5 - Too Much Part 6 - Learning smut💦 Part 7 - Recognition smut💦 Part 8 - Trust sexual 🥵 Part 9 - Shiny Things Part 10 - Good Deeds Part 11 - Caught Part 12 - Eddie Part 13 - The Release 📍

Late? Yes. Buuuuut

If ya missed it:

Oct 19th Kinktober Day 19 - Proffer smut💦 Oct 13th Kinktober Day 13 - Handled smut💦

Where we left off: Autumn got released from the station to learn Alastor is at an unknown place called the Golden Dish.

Part 13 The Release

Two idiots meet on a sidewalk, one is drunk and one is stressed. Angst ensues. First Half is reader’s POV, second is Alastor’s POV.

「Warnings/Promises: Human Alastor x Fem!Reader, two parts in one, still not smut cuz we’re waiting for the special moment, surprise Latin, Alastor drunkenly remembers his accent, angst, first fights, muffled confessions, bare feet, too much alcohol, Mimzy is her own tag, I promise she’ll be back」

MDNI 🥃 😵‍💫

The Release (Autumn)

Your relief Alastor wasn’t there was clouded by the slight hurt Alastor wasn’t there.

Any ability to mask your true feelings left you with the exhaustion of being arrested at work, in front of customers and companions alike. This was made obvious by Johnny’s slight pat to your shoulder, “Want me to walk you there?”

You shook your head. Everyone already knew too much. 

“It’s not too far, I think… I’ll be fine.” You could imagine Alastor’s panicked face. Had you ever actually seen it though? 

With a wave, you left Johnny and began the walk to, presumably, the Golden Dish. It was cold, already the night bringing a chill. Eyes to your feet, you realized you were still in her shoes. 

Where had she walked in New Orleans? Where did she meet Alastor’s father? You had to wonder what he had looked like. Surely he was handsome. Was he kind to her, like Alastor was to you? Or had it been a one night stand?

A small smile, she didn’t look like the type but looks could be deceiving. Alastor didn’t look like the kind of man who kissed bloodied cheeks and tossed heads into holes.

Flipping the card over again, you lifted it to the light. 

Tentatively you brought it to your nose and gave it a sniff. No perfume. 

The list of possibilities ran wild. 

You knew he wasn’t a virgin, and he’d mentioned before he’d been happily coupled with others before his preferences became their frustrations. But you’d never stopped to really imagine it past a fleeting image. Alastor kissing someone else. Alastor going down on someone else. Did he enjoy it as much as he enjoyed you?

It wasn’t necessarily jealousy, but your stomach did a little flip. Did they properly express their gratitude? Doubtful. How many times did he acquiesce to his partner’s wants and then be treated like it was the expectation and not an exception of his affections?

It wasn’t as late as you had thought and the streets were busy. It made you feel a little safer. Not having a purse helped that.

You weren’t entirely sure where Rosseau was, and after stopping a very lovely looking couple, you got hastily pointed toward the water. Anxiously, you kicked up your pace. The closer you got, the more nervous you were to see him. Not knowing how he felt, be it angry or worried or a mix of the two, was doing you in. Turning left, you practically jogged down the street in search of The Golden Dish.

On the first pass, you didn’t find it. You crossed the street and tried again, getting more of the buildings into sight. Nothing.

Crossing back, you found the door with a shiny golden number three.

The restaurant looked nice, but it wasn’t the Golden Dish. The name above the door was Grano D'oro.

You leaned into the alley, hoping maybe there was a man waiting with a secret door. It was pristine; no men, no trash, no mystery liquids.

Taking a moment to smooth your hair and adjust your dress, you walked in.

The entrance was lavish, the floor a black and white marble and fixtures that shined like gold. A man stood behind a host stand, looking at you expectantly. When you were within a few feet, he asked if you had a reservation.

“Uh, no. I’m looking for Alastor.”

“Does Alastor have a reservation?” He looked down, presumably at a paper of names, and then back up at you.

You looked past the parted red curtains into the dining room. “I don’t think so…ah! I have a card.” You handed it over and he gave it a look, flipping it over before nodding. “Just a moment, miss. Please wait here. You’re welcome to use the ladies room to clean up.”

From insulted to panicked, you realized you’d forgotten about your face. Pushing the heavy wooden door open to the bathroom, your reflection caught you off guard. Your eyes were encircled in black, scleras red, blush smeared into your hairline, and your lips were soft around the edges from misplaced lipstick. You looked like a wreck in human form.

“Fuck fuck fuck fuck,” you grabbed a tissue from the nearest stall and wetted it under the faucet, removing every bit of make up you could. The skin under your eyelashes still had a darkness to them and nothing could be done for the bloodshot eyes, but you let that go. You did away with the lipstick entirely, and most of the blush was out of your hair and off your cheeks. Now you just looked tired. 

Mortified, you remembered the couple you’d stopped and asked for directions from. They must have thought you’d had a fight or were some loon. Hell, maybe that was why no one stopped to bother you.

With one more glance at your disheveled appearance you sheepishly returned to the entrance and peeked into the dining room again. Everyone was dressed so nicely. You could imagine Alastor fitting in quite well. The host returned, not saying a word and sans Alastor. Before you could find the courage to ask him anything, a hand smacked your arm from behind.

“I thought you’d be more fatale and less femme. Anyways, your deadweight’s in the alley.” 

A small woman with bleach blonde hair had snuck up behind you, seemingly from the outside, “He’s got his card back. He’s your problem now!”

She brushed past you and disappeared into the restaurant.

“Have a nice evening.” The host dismissed you. A confused pause, the series of events had been so fast you were left quite literally spun around. 

When you tentatively turned back to leave, you saw Alastor stumbling onto the sidewalk. 

“Hey! Alastor.” You half shouted, Alastor seemingly unaware of his surroundings. Apparent in how he nearly collided into a group passing the restaurant.

He turned, smiled, and rushed towards you. Taking your head in his hands he kissed you on the lips, and when you pulled back he leaned in, tongue pressing into your mouth.

You screamed into his mouth, pushing him off. Looking back briefly before dragging him away, you saw the host staring at you through the clear windowed door. He was not impressed. As much as you enjoyed his kisses, it was out of character and out of class to make out on the sidewalk. 

Parks were different. Parks were made for such things. 

“What has gotten into you? You taste like a fucking distillery.” You reached the corner of the street and stopped, “Where’s your car?”

He was drunk. Completely smashed. Normally you wouldn’t care, drunk Alastor could be quite cute. But you’d been prepared for and in need of someone to talk to. Someone to ease the mess of feelings in your gut. Instead you were handed a job as caretaker and impromptu driver. You’d have to wait until the morning for any kind of sympathetic comfort. 

He hadn’t even mentioned the arrest yet or asked you how you were. Yes, he looked elated to see you. Eyes wide and adoring when he took you by the face. But you needed more than adoration now. And instead you had a mess of a man struggling to maintain his balance.

On the safety of his porch, or perhaps together at a bar, it’d be just fine. 

But this was neither safe nor fine. 

Alastor pulled his arm from your hold, “At that little park. Audubon.” He pointed west, saying it with a perfect accent. “Anyway, I’m gonna kill him. Maybe right now! Did I tell ya? I know where he lives.” He crossed the street without looking. 

You had to run to catch up to him, his long legs carrying him further and faster than you. It took a second to understand who he was talking about, clearly he’d been having a silent conversation until now. “Alastor. You’re drunk. No.” You managed to get in front of him, eyes surely begging.

“Alastor, yes. He’s got two kids, a wife. He stays out late, obsessin’ over us no doubt.”

“Alastor!” He stumbled past you and toward the park. “Hey. You can’t-,” 

He wheeled around on his heels, hand pointing a sharp finger at you. 

“Who are you to stop me? To tell me,” a pause as he lost his balance and leaned too far to the right, catching himself with a sneer to his own legs. He turned back and continued on his way, “what I can and cannot do.” You stopped. The sound of his mother’s shoes no longer snapping behind him made Alastor pause his clumsy march and look back at you. “Are ya really not comin’?” His sharp tone had shifted down to a whiny, almost pleading one.

“Who am I, Alastor?” In the past you’d try to hide when you were wounded, as prey animals often do. But you were different from who you were before. Already, you were changed. Hiding yourself from him felt like betrayal, so you’d abandoned it some time ago. Your chin quivered, hands gripping the sides of your dress in stress. Your eyes were pleading with him to not do this. To not throw you away so easily. Diminish you with one slurred sentence. It felt like a dare to your pride. A choice, your self respect or his attention. It was a rhetorical question, as the answer would be a revelation to an entirely different quandary. 

He laughed, “Now who’s drunk?” Your arms crossed your chest and your eyes narrowed further into slits. 

“I thought you’d stop if I asked. I thought I was your equal in this.”

“Well!” He gawked, “This is different. He isn’t like the others. Mister Detective Kenneth Brady is-,” he practically yelled it into the night.

“Shhh!” You hissed, a couple crossing the street to put distance between you both and themselves, “Give me your key. You can’t drive like this.”

Alastor stared you down, his height finally mattering in a way you didn’t like. 

Your eyes narrowed further, Alastor. Unspoken and yet screamed across the sidewalk. You weren’t scared of him, of his height or his sharp eyes or the fact you knew he so often carried a knife beneath his vest. No. Because he was a smart man and a smart man would never be so stupid as to physically harm you. Not unless he planned to kill you. And Alastor wouldn’t do that unless you were honestly bad.

The only way he could ever truly hurt you was with that cutting muscle behind his teeth. 

He tried to straighten his back to gather some kind of dignity and perhaps a show of dominance but stumbled backwards. He caught himself again with the brick wall beside him. 

Mind racing, you had to think of alternatives. Fight him for the keys? Cut into his tires? Just leave him to his own selfish devices? 

He could afford to fix the rubber tires, you thought. You couldn’t afford him running off the road. 

“If you want me to come with you, I am driving. Make your decision now.” You put your hand out, an indication there was only one answer you expected. When his eyes flitted from your palm to your face and stared blankly, you closed it. “I won’t let a man waste my time when I’m just trying to help him. You’ve got me confused with someone else.”

Turning around, you walked the way you’d both just come because truth be told you had no idea how to get home from where you were. You just needed to get away from him before you said something you didn’t mean. Before he said something you couldn’t forget. 

You’d barely gotten five steps when you heard a clank to the ground. Turning just enough to see behind you, you noticed the car door key on the sidewalk. Alastor’s grin wide and childlike.

Never had you felt true anger for him before. The water rising in your chest raged against your ribs and you were sure you’d drown in your own fury before long. Another second of imagined possibilities — kick them into the storm drain, throw them into a bush, take them and leave entirely.

Before you could pick one he stumbled over while bent in half the entire time, scooping the keys and holding them out for you to take.

A list of names flew over your tongue but stayed behind your clenched teeth, snatching the keys from his hand and leaving him to struggle behind you. 

The walk was silent, Alastor several paces behind you with his hands in his pockets.

He slumped against the passenger side window the entire car ride home. You struggled with the shifting stick, and he didn’t offer any help. A petulant brat pouting into the glass.

As soon as you’d gotten into the house Alastor made a sloppy beeline to the sofa and fell face first.

“You’re mad at me.” You said from the doorway, dropping his keys into the bowl beside the door. It felt odd, you were the one who had every right to be pissed. But he was showing it in a much more egregious way. His anger made the least sense to you. 

“No. I’m mad.” He grabbed a pillow and tucked it under his head. “Full stop.”

Obviously, but why? Not an ounce of compassion could be managed for you? When you were the one who’d been humiliated and dragged from your place of work in handcuffs? 

“You’re acting like a child. Go to your bed. I’ll sleep here.” Sleeping alone in his bed didn’t seem right.

“You’re talkin’ to me like a child.” He closed his eyes, apparently in a fake sleep.

“You really don’t see the connection between those two things?? Atleast— go to the guest bed.” His mother’s old room. You absolutely didn’t want to sleep there. 

“No.” He didn’t look at you. 

You stared for a moment, disbelief painted on your face as your own frustration swelled again.

“Suit yourself. I don’t have patience for this, Alastor. You’re acting like a brat when I’m the one who had the hard night.” You turned to go upstairs before coming back, something your mother always did in arguments that you hated, “And I really don’t appreciate the way you’re treating me. We’ll talk in the morning.”

He didn’t even stir.

After placing his mother’s shoes at the end of the bed, you got undressed and properly washed your face. It wasn’t until you were under the covers, alone, did you begin to cry. It was mostly anger, if you were honest. But a good dose of self pity mixed in. Practically running to find him, after thinking about just him for hours before, and to be met with a drunken child was disappointing beyond measure. And the disrespect of tossing his keys…

The bed felt so big and so foreign now. Just sitting in it made you feel like shit. A stranger, unwanted in someone else’s home. You could remember the uneasy feeling you had when your mother would leave you with friends when she had work. How every inch moved felt like you were brushing into poison ivy, it wasn’t your space, you didn’t know the rules or the norms. Now you felt you no longer knew your place in Alastor’s home. 

If you weren’t scared you’d never see him again you’d have just walked the several hours home. Knees to your chin, you didn’t bother with wiping away your tears. It added to the wallowing you were experiencing.

What did he mean? Why would he say it like that? Had it been a lie the whole time, that he’d stop killing if you asked him to? Alastor had never hissed quite like he had then. 

It felt like a lie, and now you questioned everything. Maybe while you worked he was out killing people. You never pushed him much about what he did while you were away.

A secondary thought simultaneously played with that one. No, you’d have noticed him at night taking care of the body. Your face slipped past your knees and pressed into the tops of your thighs, as quickly as the fear receded your melancholy swept back in.

Fine, but if he lied about stopping then you didn’t mean as much as he claimed.

Which was fine, you lied to yourself. You just needed to know the parameters so you could stay within them. Not take things too seriously. Not expect too much from him.

Not give too much of yourself. 

A second wave of tears, chin trembling.

Idiot. 

Maybe Brady had been right. Were you just some dumb dame? You’d done so much for him and now with some liquor you were just another person to him.

Then a sickening feeling made your throat tighten. Had getting arrested made you no longer attractive? Perhaps he blamed you. Being publicly dragged into a police station was the closest he had ever been to being found out and it was your fault. Fuck, even his name. That had been you who said it so casually. 

You didn’t want to be somewhere you weren’t welcomed.

Slipping out of bed, you pulled your bag from the closet and sat it on the dresser.

You couldn’t believe you had wanted to tell him you loved him. How long had you choked back those words for your own personal safety, just to be in a man’s home far from your own with no real way back. You pulled your dresses from the closet, and paused.

Alastor had been lovingly removing your stockings just a week or so ago. 

After tossing innards into the water. He’d showed you where he buried the only evidence of his expansive crimes. He trusted you with things he’d never shown anyone, something you felt sure of given his freedom. 

Glancing up through tear-heavy lashes, you saw your reflection in the mirror and remembered how he kissed your shoulder and undressed you. His promise to keep you warm.

A shiny and sunlit movie played of him slipping off your shoes and putting yours on his feet. 

Your mother had always said you were too quick to give up when things didn’t come easy. You resented that, but now it was ringing painfully true. 

You put the dresses back, tossing your bag to the floor and kicking it halfheartedly under the dresser.

Lying down again, you tried to take deep breaths. He’d said he wasn’t mad at you. Was he not allowed to make mistakes? Could he not be angry around you without you taking it personally even when he said it wasn't for you? That was unfair of you. You were expecting a drunk man to speak clearly and with well thought out perception of how he’d be heard. The reasons for his drunkenness were unknown, and when you stopped to consider things more, you’d never just out right told him how you felt. Until you were upset and going up the stairs. Admittedly, to your defense, he was very drunk. 

He owed you an apology, that was absolutely expected given the way he’d spoken and tossed his keys, but he’d done enough to earn the right to explain himself before you just up and left in the middle of the night.

The idea of him waking up to an empty home and a migraine almost brought you back to tears. Alastor’s distaste for being alone had become clear, in the way he used to go out often just to have dance company, how he so quickly pulled you into his home and lap. You’d feel his heart break from across the river if you up and left while he slept. 

Johnny had said he was a mess before, clearly he did care to some degree. You’d trusted him this long. You’d killed a man for him. You could give him a night to be an ass and hear him out in the morning.

But if he didn’t apologize, if he didn’t seem to understand how selfish and unkind he had been to you… You rolled onto your side and tried to straighten your legs but felt vulnerable like that. Pulling them up again you curled into a ball and focused on deep calming breaths. It would be fine. The best way to find out if someone was worth trusting was to trust them. Alastor had been worth so much more than you’d expected a person could be. This was just a hiccup. 

Thinking back on past relationships, you realized most first fights were also your last fights. If you and someone had friction, it was easiest to walk away and try again. There was no expectation of a picture perfect romance, not at all. But once someone disappointed you, it was hard to see them again in a positive light. Throwing things away had always been simpler than putting in the work to fix them. Once you’ve done that, you’ve shown someone your hand. You’ve shown them they mattered and they could use that against you. 

People who knew they were important to you could hold that over your head and push just how much they could get away with. 

Alastor, what more could he do? What on earth could he possibly get away with? He had no interest in stepping out, and he couldn’t easily date when his hobbies and home were crime scenes.

The person with the most to lose was him, you realized. Maybe not lose you, you didn’t pretend you were that important to him. But his life away from iron bars and cuffs was now dependent on you. If he had always been a few too many drinks away from fucking that all up, he’d have been caught a long time ago. 

He would make it better. He would say whatever really happened in the morning and fix it. You could trust that and let your eyes finally close. Alastor hadn’t failed you yet, and you believed he wouldn’t start now. 

When you woke up, it was early. Unnaturally early for you. But stress did that. Whatever the opposite of Christmas morning, that was the mechanism pulling you out of bed as the sun was just beginning to rise. 

He was still asleep on the couch when you crept down the stairs. He looked like shit. Which made you feel a little good. If he looked perfect it’d be immensely dissatisfying. You tried to open the back door quietly but the old hinges whined and the swollen wooden door snapped against the frame when you let it go. 

Sitting on the top of the porch steps that led to the backyard, if you could call such an expanse that, you tried to take in the wet cool air. It was officially fall. Soon you’d have to pull out your coat. Your toes wiggled against the flaking paint of the steps, you still needed to go home and get your shoes. 

A groan and you doubled over, you were assuming so confidently that you’d still be staying with Alastor. That was a good thing, right? Or…. you weren’t sure. You had no healthy relationships to look to for guidance. Rolling your back up, you looked up at the dark cobalt sky fading into baby blue, a color that matched the ceiling of the porch above you. 

You heard the creak of the screen door and felt the old wood bend behind you as he finally stumbled out. He plopped down beside you, before lowering himself to his right side and resting his head on your lap. He stared out at the greenhouse like you did. Your hands twitched to touch him, but you kept them to your sides. 

“You are my darling.” He said with a raspy voice hoarse from an intoxicated dehydration. You finally looked at him, but he didn’t meet the gaze. “That’s who you are.”

“You sure didn’t make me feel like your anything last night.” Your tone was cold and sharp, spoken like a stranger scolding another. Stay strong, you thought. Make him understand how he made you feel before, even if you were already cooling off. 

You saw the fabric of your white slip turn a storm grey beneath his face, tears tumbling across the bridge of his nose before seeping into the night dress.

“I know. I’m sorry. I was so,” he sighed and you took your opportunity.

“Drunk.”

“Enraged.” He whined, eyelids coming to act as a poor dam, “And drunk.”

“And disrespectful.”

He groaned now, shoulders tightening in shame, “That too.”

You understood he was angry. Did he think you weren’t? You’d been humiliated. You’d been interrogated. 

“I want to split his skull with an ax.” His fingers were playing with something beneath his closed thighs, hands pressed between them.  “I’m sorry. I— you were not wrong.” You caught a glimpse of the bright yellow handkerchief being wrung between sweaty palms with nervous fingers when he finally opened his legs. “I didn’t know what to do with myself when your manager said you’d been arrested. I almost drove my car into the station doors.”

“So getting zozzled and shouting the personal details of a New Orleans detective into the night seemed… the better option? When I had already had a difficult evening?” You felt a flame in your chest again. “When I needed your support? Comfort?”

He nodded, slick and smooth face gliding over the silk. A sob, choked and broken as he buried his head again into your lap. “I’d never felt so helpless, I just…I responded very selfishly. I’m sorry.” 

The heavy and hot indignation finally began to cool in you, and you let yourself run your fingers through his hair. 

“Will you ever let me kill him?” He asked your thighs.

You thought for a moment. The safety in Alastor’s killings were the degrees of separation between him and his targets. The plausible deniability. The lack of obvious motive. If you could find that same safety net when killing Brady, then, sure. “When he’s no longer a threat to us. When no one will be shocked to hear he’s dead.” 

His arms came to hold onto your legs, soft pads of his digits stroking the skin beneath your clothing.

“He went too far.” Alastor muttered, moving his head enough to look at you from the corner of his eyes. 

“And he knows your name.” You added, the arrest being of equal importance if not less. 

“I’m beginning to think it doesn’t matter.” Alastor inched his body closer to you. “I’ve never been a bigger failure in all my life than last night. In every way. To myself and to you.” His head turned, the soft and sharp features alike of his face burying into your lap. A gentle shake of his shoulders as he lost his fight to not weep openly into you broke your heart. He let out a weak and muffled series of sounds, followed by a louder and clearer, “Do you want to leave me?”

Wincing, you remembered how close you’d been to doing just that. It was good though that he asked. Indicating Alastor knew how serious you took the way he had acted the night before. 

You pulled his head up by the back of his collar. With your first good look at him in the crisp orange morning light you could see his lips were red and raw from nervous chewing, his hair lacking its usual shine or form. The right side of his face was wet. Tears new and old began to reroute and slide down his high cheeks and pointed jaw. They met at the very bottom of his chin, for the first time in their short lives, and dropped onto you in little couplings. Falling like they were made to always do just that. Just now. Just for him. A fate you could understand so naturally it was bordering on unnerving. A love story you were sure you were playing out.

How rarely you’d seen a man cry. In the past perhaps you’d have been put off. Cringed. Considered it a pathetic show of weakness and lost respect for them. But all you could feel now was a pain so deep and all encompassing it felt as if your skin was cracking off. A dry river bed in the heat of summer. What had been there before? Disgust? Indifference? Even his tears were of a magnitude more important than anyone else’s. Every piece of him mattered more to you. 

Leave him? Of course not. No matter what he did, dead or alive, monster or man, you would never hate him enough. And that wasn’t necessarily a good thing. No, that absolutely wasn’t a good thing. A dangerous something he could never fully be told. 

Oh.

Ruth’s words on the roof crawled from their grave and tugged at your ankles. 

You were in that worst kind of love; Unconditional. 

Fireworks were out of the question but you could manage something for him. You had to tell him. Things were too far gone now and you couldn’t be sure how much time was left now that Brady had a name.

“Give me a little time. I’ll show you how stupid of a question that is over our first fight,” Your thumbs wiped away his tears. The handkerchief came back to view, so you gingerly took it and dabbed the sacred lacrima from his cheeks. You took his head between both hands and stared unflinching into the sweet, sun kissed brown of his eyes, “I never want to leave you. Even if I do, even if somehow I’m convinced to go, you’ll have to rip your heart out of my cold dead hands or I’ll take it with me.” 

“What have I told you? Don’t mention those things. The spirits are listening.” He attempted a gentle smile through his tear stained cheeks and you couldn’t stop yourself from kissing him. How could someone so good with a knife be so soft?

Another torrent of tears from him and a reply so earnest and so sure your body leaned back with surprise, “But, it’s not mine anymore. Isn’t that obvious?” He half whispered it into the ether.

Please, you begged whoever listened when you prayed, don’t weaken my self respect. Straightening your back to summon some form of resolve, you voiced it.

“If you ever speak to me like you did last night again, with that sharp tone and cruel words, sober or not…” you trailed off, begging him to not make you say it. Don’t force you to make threats you didn’t want to keep. Things you’d be ashamed of not following through with. Little self failures you were genetically predisposed of committing. 

“You can take my heart with you.” 

A wonderful reply.

✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦

The Release (Alastor)

When Alastor didn’t see you at the side door or back street, he dared to walk around the block to the front of the theater. He was surprised, like many others, to find the doors locked.

A trickle of fear dropped down his spine. Worst case scenario didn’t quite exist as some ladder of concerns, he just felt tremendous fear you were dead. That was the only rung. Had someone been watching you, that he didn’t notice as he was too preoccupied with watching Brady? 

“Alastor?” 

His eyes snapped from the marquee to the young man poking his head out of the doors. 

He nodded, “Johnathon, right?” Alastor moved on autopilot, hand coming to shake your manager’s.

“Johnny. Come inside.”

Alastor didn’t move. Hand still in the air between them. Johnny registered the distinct lack of light in Alastor’s eyes. He took a deep breath in, Alastor looked like a photograph of a man before him. There but, just a facsimile of human.

“She’s okay. Come on.” He gestured firmly, Alastor blinking back to life and slipping in.

Ruth hopped from her seat at the sight of the tall paramour. 

“The bastard arrested her! Prostitution.” 

Alastor’s mouth opened and then closed. He swallowed, then smiled, and his head did a little tilt. Ruth looked from him to Johnny. Alastor’s rolodex of canned responses spun infinitely around in his mind. Nothing was catching. There wasn’t a facial expression or comment or body posture in existence he had prepared for this conversation. Because he hadn’t ever predicted such a situation.

“He did it in front of everyone. He made a real scene of it.” Johnny leaned against the bar and tapped a cigarette, “I told her I’d fill you in.”

Brady had arrested you. You’d been arrested. 

“Prostitution?” Alastor finally spoke.

Ruth shook her head, “Yeah but absolute bullshit. She doesn’t have any want or need for extra money.”

Alastor nodded. It wasn’t his worry. His eyes quickly flitted around the air to the concern of the other two, searching his memory for any sense.

The man he punched? What was his name again? No. He didn’t know where you worked. He didn’t know your name. 

But, perhaps— no. He blinked away his runaway errands list.

“Any idea of the bond? How much should I bring?” He patted his pockets, fingers fumbling when he fished out his wallet. “I could get more, but I’ll need to go—,”

He was in disarray, a tremble in his hands making him pause and stare at his own body with a loss of recognition.

“I’m not sure…” Johnny said it slowly, “Ruth could you grab her bag from the back for me.”

When she was out of ear shot Johnny set his hand on Alastor’s, who was still staring in confusion at his own limbs, and made him lower the wallet.  

“Hey, I was there that night you cornered Tommy into the booth. I saw you two. The night he hit her. Tommy was a real piece of shit. And I’m glad he’s gone.”

Alastor’s eyes met Johnny’s and he wondered what he looked like to the other man. He felt the corner of his frozen smile twitch but he managed to keep from reacting otherwise. How many missteps had he taken?

For a moment, time stood still and he imagined dragging Johnny into the alley by his neck. Then Ruth. Who else needed to go? He’d carry them all away into the dark. 

“I'm no rat! I didn’t tell anyone anything.” A beat as he tried to read the face Alastor was making. A small tight smile and wide eyes that made Johnny’s skin crawl. Was he angry? No, his brows weren’t scrunched up. Was he suspicious? Maybe. Whatever feeling a trapped fox feels when the hound is close. But Johnny didn’t register that. “Just, ya know, I’m glad someone told him off. He was shaking like a leaf after. Anyway,” a nervous clearing of his throat, “I don’t think you should go to the precinct. I’ll go, I’ll pay the bail with some cash from the safe. You two can pay it back.”

No response. Alastor’s thoughts a tangled ball of red wool yarn, every time he tried to pull out a coherent reply the knot seemed to tighten and stiffen. He leaned back a little, trying to fit more of Johnny into his view. Wanting all of the smaller man to be seen.

“I feel kinda responsible. I should have spoken up when I learned what he was doing.” Johnny offered a smile of his own, something about it made him look younger than he was. “Just tell me where you’ll be, I’ll send her that way when she’s released. Maybe in the morning.”

“Responsible for what?” Ruth smacked Alastor’s arm with your small black handbag.

“For her arrest. I should have done more.” Johnny thanked her for the bag. “Where should I say you’ll be?”

“I’ll wait in my car.”

“Don’t be ridiculous. You’ll go crazy like that, just find somewhere quiet and have a drink.” Ruth turned Alastor around and pushed him towards the doors. 

“The Golden Dish. I’ll be there. Just,” Alastor stopped to pull a card from his wallet and hand it to Johnny, “Tell her to give the host this card and ask for me.”

“Well, go have a drink, try to just… try to stay calm.” Ruth’s words barely entered his mind as he stumbled out into the night. Thoughts came so quickly and in such a multitude that Alastor found his head entirely empty, unable to latch onto any single one.

He was unlocking his car door and then he looked up — he was across the street from the station. How he got from the theater to here was unknown to him. Clearly he had driven, but with what mind he had no idea. 

Long fingers gripped the steering wheel, knuckles an uncomfortable white with the force. How much would it take to snap the wheel? Had anyone ever tried before?

A deep breath, he didn’t remember holding it until his head began spinning. In the mess of thoughts, he saw flashes of what he could do. Questions to narrow down his options. Did the rooms have windows? Could he climb in one and drag Brady out?

But he didn’t know how many people there were. How many rooms. Where Brady was. Where you were.

Deep breath, he was holding it again and the thought of you being grilled by a cop made him involuntarily gasp for air.

There was no fear you’d say anything. It simply didn’t exist. Even trying to conjure the idea of you telling anyone who he was and what he did was ridiculous to him. A dark part of him knew that notion was born out of a blinding fear and not out of true trust. Because if you did such a thing, it’d mean he’d been wrong about everything. That he couldn’t trust his own decisions anymore. What would he do if you did confess?

Well, he was quite sure he’d die. Perhaps not literally. But Alastor as he was would wither and disappear. He’d be someone —- something entirely different.

But he didn’t stop to think about that. Because it wasn’t a possibility. 

With a full body tremble, Alastor leaned back into the seat and ran his fingers through his hair. He felt torn down the center. Half of him was marching into the station and doing…. He wasn’t sure. The rest was just black.

Half of him was driving away to go hide in a glass of whisky until you were released.

What would you want him to do?

He started the car and headed toward the river’s edge, hoping to find a parking spot not too far from the illicit bar.

Alastor made a beeline for the bathrooms just past the entrance of the Grano D'oro. His hair was mussed, his pupils constricted. He drew his bottom lip in and began chewing it nervously, hands pushing his hair back into some form of style. A cough to clear out his tightening throat, he straightened his bow tie and suit jacket. Staring at his reflection, he flinched. An unsettling feeling in his bones that if he stared long enough, it would take on a life of its own.

Something wasn’t right. His nightmares were back and following him around in his waking hours. Terrors of losing his control over himself. Deep seated insecurities about his work.

Alastor approached the host and explained his card was on loan to someone who would be by later. Normally it didn’t work like that, no card meant no entry. But Alastor was a regular. The man nodded and led Alastor into the main dining hall.

Alastor offered passing pleasantries to a few people and smiled as he was escorted past them to the private dining section of Grano D'oro. Separated by another large but closed curtain, the host moved it aside and let Alastor enter. The hall had a few doors but two large doors swung out from the kitchen.

Through the kitchen, with a smile and another nod to the staff who all sang his name as he walked by, Alastor made it to the barely visible door to the side.

Finally, he descended the stairs to the very lively and very lovely bar of his dear friend, Mimzy.

She clapped her hands enthusiastically at the sight of him, taking him by the arm and dragging him to the counter.

“Little late for you isn’t it? Shouldn’t you be at home with your heart.” She dragged out the word, eyes rolling not at the idea of you but at the idea of someone being more important than a night out.

Alastor plopped onto the stool and came to rest both elbows on the bar, “Should be.”

“Fight?” She was already wiping down a glass for him, his head was in his hands which was… a new sight. Sloppily, with some splashing out and onto the bar top, she poured two fingers and slid it to him.

“Worse. Arrest.” His hands curled around the cup and he considered not drinking it at all. His mother warned him to never drink alone and never drink when upset. He fudged the first rule often. But he really did follow the second. 

“Oh fuck.” Mimzy added two more fingers to the glass. “What for?”

He stared into the whisky before taking a large mouthful and forcing it down with a burning gulp, “Prostitution.” He croaked.

“That’s not illegal.” 

Alastor’s stress was momentarily broken and he looked incredulously at who could be called his closest friend, “Yes, it is, Mimz.”

With a hand on her hip she looked up in thought, “Huh…. Well, ya learn something new every day!”

Alastor held the glass with both hands now, “You do know alcohol is illegal, right? Production and consumption?” He watched her face sour, hand moving to gesture at the windowless room they were in.

“Duh. Why else would I be in this makeshift box?” It was rhetorical, Alastor rolling his eyes and lowering his face to his glass. 

Nervously he chewed on his bottom lip, biting red lines into the soft pink flesh. Mimzy stared, unnoticed. She couldn’t remember the last time he looked sad. He did sometimes open up when drunk, perhaps smiling through a pitiful story. Or dancing when she knew he was bruised in either his ego or his heart. But, normally, for Alastor, he kept the obvious and plain emotions kept tightly buttoned up. 

“So, why are you here all long faced? Did you arrest her or something?”

Alastor’s fingers found their way into his hair again, “I might as well have. It’s my fault.”

It was, without a doubt in his mind, his fault. He pulled you in. He killed your boss without any care for what you thought. He made you a shield and a target, stupid. Alastor couldn’t argue against it. 

You’d been forced to lie for him. To sneak and hide from police for him. He was no better than the spineless men he often chased. How could he be so selfish? It stung his chest and his eyes, the thought of you so sweetly sitting beside him just to be dragged into a police station. It was his fault. 

Mimzy hummed, pretending to wipe down the counter, “Then fix it. If you fucking did it, then make it better.”

Yes, obviously, but, “I don’t know how. I-,” Another forced mouthful of whisky, “I roughed up her former guy. For mistreating her. He’s been going around causing trouble now, lying about her. He doesn’t know it was me.” A lie that roughly summed up the trouble. Enough that he could vent, perhaps get third party insight. Though, admittedly, Mimzy wasn’t his first person to turn to for advice. 

“And you can’t just,” she made a fist with her thumb stuck out and dragged it across her neck in a cutting motion, “get rid of the issue?”

Killing Brady would solve everything. And it’d feel good. It’d feel….ah, he leaned back, letting his chest open and fill with the shadow of satisfaction, it’d be the best kill yet. How would he do it, he wondered. It’d have to be special. Slow. Perhaps even over the course of days. Oh, or better yet, perhaps he could show Brady exactly how he disposed of his targets. Piece by piece, taking from him and letting him watch as he buried his parts in deep holes. Giving him all the answers to his questions before snuffing out his nagging life. 

Lost in thought, he didn’t see Mimzy walk away and come back with a different bottle. The big guns, she thought. 

“That a no? Weeell,” She poured herself a glass, “Maybe go talk to the guy. Put the fear of God in ‘em! Let him know if he tries anymore shit,” she waved her finger around, “he’s gonna eat dirt.”

A threat….scare him? 

No one would believe Brady, he considered. If someone pulled him back into the shadows of his tree lined street with a blade to his throat and gave him the warning of what was to come if he kept this up….Did he have any allies in this at work?

“But you can’t do nothing. She’s your gal, right? Arresting her is like….it’s like throwing a drink in your face. He’s embarrassing you.”

A lump rose in this throat, the two large gulps of drink metabolizing and carrying away his ability to remember not to take advice from Mimzy. 

In fact, as he took a slower sip of his somehow still full glass, he thought she was quite right. Brady was testing his pride. Hurting the closest person he had to get at him. This was villain activity. 

If he didn’t reply, he’d be saying he didn’t care at all about you. He’d be the man Brady told you he was. A coward using you until you weren’t convenient anymore. Alastor’s leg began to bounce against the stool’s foothold. Yes, yeah, he had to act. Someone was challenging him. Someone was swinging you around in front of him, taunting how weak he was that he couldn’t even protect you. 

Either Brady thought Alastor was all bark and no bite, only attacking men alone at night, or, worse, he thought Alastor was using you.

Alastor stood quickly, but paused as his head sloshed to the left and he leaned with it. Steadying himself on the bar he looked down at Mimzy.

“Ah, he’s at work.” He stated it plainly, as if Mimzy already knew this. 

“Oh, then just enjoy some drinks and jazz while you wait! When is he off?”

“I don’t know…but, she’ll come get me when she’s released. So….after that?” Alastor was already losing sight of the lie he had told her earlier. He didn’t notice her top up his glass for a third time. 

“Perfect! Now, gossip. You gotta fill me in with the trashy news. You haven’t come by in so long.” She leaned across the bar, swirling her glass clumsily, big eyes blinking.

“Don’t try to distract me. I’m in no mood for such trivial things, Mimz. My love was arrested. At work no less. I’m useless.”

The very notion of thinking about anything but you made his stomach turn. 

As the time ticked on though, that turning was quickly becoming more of a reaction to the liquor and less to do with his stress. 

The only person who knew how much he’d downed was Mimzy, who kept track on his tab with an out-of-character diligence. When the host knocked on the door, she opened it to receive Alastor’s card and knew you must have come for him. 

Getting him up the stairs was difficult, but he was too drunk to let him go through the restaurant. The fine people upstairs had no idea liquor was being served in their fancy dining hall. So Mimzy let Alastor lean on her as she pushed them through the back doors and to the storage room. Opening the trash shoot, she pushed the man out and let him trip through the small opening. 

“This way, big guy,” She tugged him by the lapel through the alley and toward the street. 

She saw you standing there, looking into the restaurant expectedly, and told him to stay put. Mimzy slipped his card into his suit pocket and bee lined to you. You looked different than she’d expected. She wasn’t really sure what she was expecting…actually, on second thought, she had just imagined a female Alastor. Alastor with a perm and an empire waist dress. A little out of fashion but classy. 

She smacked your arm with the back of her hand and left you to him. 

Alastor stumbled onto the sidewalk, the lights blinding compared to the dark and smokey illicit club down he’d just fallen out of. He’d never used the back door, and he decided, somewhere in the mess of his thoughts, he didn’t particularly care for it. 

“Hey! Alastor!”

His head swung around at the sound of your voice, it was you. You were free. Shrugging off his panic like a heavy fur coat he rushed to you, taking your face in his big hands to kiss you. Grateful. He was so grateful you were back. He couldn’t let Brady take you again. How could he show you how seriously he felt?

What did people like? Kisses. People liked kisses. And passion. And touch. 

He’d translate his determination into lavishing you. When you made a yelp and pushed him away, he was confused. Why weren’t you happy to see him? 

Icy cold fear dripped and trickled down his ribs that Brady had said something to make you believe you were just collateral. You pulled him by the wrist, not looking at him, and he felt sure he had made a mistake in not going to the station. 

In the mud that was his thinking, he was sure this was the issue. What an idiot. He never let others tell him how to act or live, and yet he let some manager keep him from seeing you? He let a pissant like Brady take you and whisper poison into your ear. 

He had to fix it. He had to make it better. 

“Where’s your car?”

Ah, his car! Yes! Alastor had the power to make this all better immediately. Why didn’t he do this an hour ago? He couldn’t remember…. Alastor took his arm back, pointing you toward the park, “At that little park. Audubon.” It was a lovely little park, he thought. 

Your breath against his body when you and him first entertained affection came to his mind so intensely he thought maybe he had been pulled back in time. He paused, remembering the last park you both sat in, covered in blood and trembling. 

He needed to make it up to you.

“Anyway, I’m gonna kill him. Maybe right now! Did I tell ya? I know where he lives.” The stalking and studying was part of the fun, it made the meal tastier. And he had been sure to study Brady. When his work ended and you were busy still, he learned everything he could about the nosy cop. 

Unfortunately, most of what he learned was that Brady rarely went home at a normal time and he was relentless in his pursuit of information about you both. Many nights he shadowed the detective and heard Brady pestering and questioning locals about missing people and illegal going-ons at your theater. It wasn’t because he wanted to clean up the streets, that was obvious. Those nightly walks were a pig sniffing around in the mud for a kernel. All he needed was a good enough accusation to rush in and shut shit down. 

“Alastor.” Your voice saying his name pulled him back to the present, he paused for a beat to figure out where he was, he had thought you’d both been in front of the restaurant just a second ago. 

“You’re drunk. No.”

You slipped in front of him, making him nearly collide into you. No? Yes! What did drunkenness have to do with anything? Perhaps you didn’t understand. He did the work! He knew exactly what to do and where to go. Ah, of course. You didn’t know. How could you? He never told you what he did while waiting for you to finish up at work.

“Alastor, yes. He’s got two kids, a wife. He stays out late, obsessin’ over us no doubt.” Raising his head, he felt a swell of pride. Don’t worry, dear. I’ve not made mistakes this time.

You hissed his name as he moved past you, if he was quick he could catch the bastard before he got into his house. His road was lined with trees, shady and quiet. It’d be so easy. Fuck, it was even better suited for his hobbies than alleys and parks. How odd. 

“Hey. You can’t-,”

The word set something off in him. Can’t? Why do people keep telling him what to do or not to do?! Why were people always fucking giving him limitations? 

Brady had done this. You’d never– He was just trying to clean up his mess. Why did people think they could dictate his life so freely? Why did what he wanted to do not matter, even though he was just trying to be a good man?

“Who are you to stop me? To tell me,” He whipped around, losing his balance as he tried to recorrect. Alastor paused to stare down at his legs. Et tu, crura? Even his own body was betraying him. Saying his desires were moot points. Fine, fuck it. He barely needed legs to drive anyway. If he could just do things the way he always did, you’d see how capable he was. Brady would see how fucking stupid he was. Tommy could rot in hell harder if that was an option. 

Ah, it was quiet. How long had he been in his head? Had you said something and he didn’t hear? Oh you had stopped walking. “Are ya really not comin’?”

You had told him to not go alone, to always have you nearby when he killed. You not coming made no sense at all. 

“Who am I, Alastor?” Your voice was high pitched, he could hear your throat constricting. The reason wasn’t known to him though. People often did that before he killed him. 

What an odd question. Had you used your stage name so long you’d forgotten your true one. He laughed, what a silly thing to ask! “Now who is drunk?”

When your arms crossed and you glared back at him, his head cocked to the side. He wondered if you were playing around. You often pretended to be cross with him to make him pull you close and make you smile. 

“I thought you’d stop if I asked. I thought I was your equal in this.”

Not a joke. Well yes, of course you were. But this wasn’t that. 

“Well!” Alastor searched the sidewalk for the words, “This is different! He isn’t like the others. Mister Detective Kenneth Brady is-.” He was getting mad. Not at you, persay, but at the entire mess before him. 

“Shhh!” You seethed, “Give me your key. You can’t drive like this.”

What? 

Oh, so now he can’t drive? Your trust in him had been so eroded with just one private meeting with Brady. And did you shush him? 

Alastor, don’t go to the station. 

Alastor, don’t clean up the mess you made for me. 

Alastor, don’t drive. 

He didn’t want to fight with you. To argue or assert dominance, but…he stood up straighter to simulate sobriety. It failed, his hand jutting out to brace against the wall for stability. A failure that added to a growing pile of failures.

He caught himself and stared back at you. No. It was his car. Alastor was putting his drunken, clumsy foot down.

“If you want me to come with you, I am driving. Make your decision now.” 

When your hand came out for the keys he looked down to it and then back to you. What was that? What were you doing? 

You closed it,  “I won’t let a man waste my time when I’m just trying to help him. You’ve got me confused with someone else.”

Your turning and walking back forward the restaurant made his eyes roll. Oh, the keys still. He pulled them from his pocket, fine, have them. I give up. Failure pile growin’ every minute.

He tossed them into the space between you both, smiling to himself. You wanted the keys, he thought, there you go.

But when you turned around, he could feel the rage rolling off of your body. Alastor couldn’t pinpoint what it was about your face that was different than usual, but just beneath your skin he could see a you he’d never met before. One he didn’t care to meet. 

Fuck. 

He’d fucked up.

A flash of embarrassment sizzled in his stomach before he lurched forward and grabbed the keys, offering them to you properly.

He followed behind, too stubborn to show you the way but unwilling to be without you. 

Leaning into the window, he stared at the city as it rolled by, until it turned to water and then to woods. The air was stiff and suffocating. He hated it. Why were you so mad at him?

Alastor couldn’t understand what had happened. He was so happy to see you but immediately you pushed him away and dragged him off like a child being taken to the headmaster. What had happened at the station, he wondered. There was no way to ask now. The mood was too heavy, and he was too insolent to be the first one to speak. You were mad at him. You didn’t trust him. You, probably, we’re fed up with the complications of his company.

The pain behind his sternum was akin to a splintering rod; stiff, solid, and biting every time he moved. No one had ever made him feel this way before. He couldn’t put his finger on the feeling though, it was sadness, and it hurt, but there was something deeper. Something underneath these shallow reactions that dredged up a vague sense of mourning.

Regret?

He slammed the car door behind him and fell into the sofa as soon as he could. Nothing went right. The day had started so wonderfully… you’d felt like a part of himself he’d finally found. And now….

“You’re mad at me.” He heard the keys hit the bowl. Thank you, he thought. 

Yes. No. Not at you. Not with you. Just, mad. Mad at Brady. Mad at Tommy. Mad at liquor as a general concept. And, the most upsetting, mad at himself. Had he ever been mad at himself before? 

“No.” He sucked in a breath, “I’m mad. Full stop.” He hugged a pillow, he just wanted to be left alone now to wallow in the expanse of these new and awful sensations bleeding into his guts.

He thought it and immediately winced. Not alone alone. Please, if anyone had been listening, please disregard it. That wasn’t what he wanted. He didn’t mean that at all.

“You’re acting like a child. Go to your bed. I’ll sleep here.” Your voice was stern, talking down to him. 

“You’re talkin’ to me like a child.” He felt small and stupid. Closing his eyes, he sighed and tried to settle mind. Everything was swimming. Literally. His thoughts and the room were liquid and floating up into the atmosphere. Alastor was confident he would follow them up. 

“You really don’t see the connection between those two things?? Atleast— go to the guest bed.” 

Connection? Yes! You were treating him like a naive child, talking to him like a confused child, pulling him like a disobedient child, holding out your hand to him like he was a selfish child.

“No.” If he opened his eyes he was 90% sure he’d vomit. If he could just bear through the spinning he’d be okay.

“Suit yourself. I don’t have patience for this, Alastor. You’re acting like a brat when I’m the one who had the hard night.” 

He turned his head into the pillow to conceal the frown. 

Patience… there it was. You’d lost patience with him. And you’d been so patient for months now. Waiting in bars and cars while he killed. Waiting for him while he threw body parts into holes and snapping jaws. Waiting for weeks beside him for inspiration to strike and for him to seek your intimacy in more serious touch.

He heard you make it three steps before returning, “And I really don’t appreciate the way you’re treating me. We’ll talk in the morning.”

Alastor’s eyes welled with tears that soaked into the soft yellow pillow. He held his breath until he heard the floor creaking upstairs to let his body shiver with the sob. He’d had you all morning. And he’d kissed you goodbye at work… and then he came to get you. But you were gone. 

He was scared, and angry.

And he got angrier and angrier and now— he couldn’t piece anything together.

Rolling onto his back he held the pillow to his chest. 

Eyes fixed on the ceiling he listened to you prepare for bed. The water ran. The bed groaned. As the liquor took him away the floors creaked again and he hoped maybe you’d come join him on the sofa. Even in silence. Even angry. Just be there so he knew you weren’t done with him entirely. 

✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦

When Alastor woke he was alone, the sound of the back door shutting startling him into consciousness. The only evidence he had slept and not just shut his eyes for a couple minutes was the light through the curtains. 

For the briefest, sweetest second he felt excited to see you. It was eclipsed near immediately with the nauseating reality that you’d had a fight the night before and you’d told him…. It was hazy. Clenching his eyes shut he searched through the drunken darkness of the night before.

He had to work backwards. You said you’d lost patience. He was treating you poorly. You’d driven him home. He’d thrown his keys at you.

Alastor groaned, feet kicking the end to the sofa in anger. He had tried to make you pick up the keys off the ground, when all you had done was try to take care of him. 

He remembered you tugging him along the sidewalk, before that… you kissed. No, he kissed. He could distinctly remember trying to lick his way into your mouth. On the sidewalk. In front of a very nice restaurant. The yellow pillow was pulled to his face to muffle his scream.

Drinking was the first mistake, continuing to drink was the second. And now you were upset with him.

He was to blame. It was so obvious now. Not just for the arrest and the negative attention but for the entire evening going tits up. 

Throat tightening, a tingle began in his fingertips and worked its way up his wrists. 

Stupid.

Selfish.

Useless.

Throwing the pillow into the chair opposite the sofa he tossed his legs over and sat up. He couldn’t breath, chest heavy. As his lips began to feel like they were stung with tiny needles, he spread his knees and lowered his head between them.

Not now, he yelled at himself, you’re making this about yourself again. Just like last night.

He’d wanted to fix the problems he’d made so badly but stupidly he’d just burdened you further.

There was no future in that moment. All the little daydreams of you and him were suspended and in jeopardy. Until he spoke to you, had the talk you told him was required, he had nothing. 

For all he knew, you’d made up your mind already. How odd. He himself was the cat in the box. He could already be dead and not even know it.

Alastor couldn’t stand another second of not knowing his fate. Lost in the panic he hadn’t considered at all what Brady had said to you. Taking the steps two by two he found the bed empty. Before turning, vaguely remembering hearing the screen door earlier, something caught his eye and made the world spin again with renewed terror.

The handle of your bag peeking out from under the dresser. It had been in the closet, he had emptied it and put it there for you so he knew that to be a fact.

He closed his eyes, bile rising in his throat. Was it full of your things? Were you just waiting to tell him to take you home?

He couldn’t find the courage to check. Rushing past it like it could come to life and grab him by the ankles, he went to the nightstand beside his side of the bed and opened the drawer, the bright yellow of your handkerchief calming him just a sliver. If he kept it, you’d have to come back. He could call you and remind you to come back for it. And then he could convince you to stay. His mother always said he was good with words. If you forgot it at his house when you left he’d have a way to bring you home again. Fresh tears welled, the backs of his hands smearing them into his hairline.

The handkerchief smelled faintly of you still. His bottom lip was sucked between his teeth and the skin picked and pulled. Still carrying the piece of fabric, he leaned over the stairs railing to see you as you sat on the back porch. 

Sitting on the second to last step of the house, he took a moment to collect himself. Being so frazzled, so undone, wasn’t like him. That foreignness just added to the panic. Bringing a hand to his chest, he opened his shirt to run his fingers down his sternum and to the left. A beating heart, evidence he was the survivor in every encounter he’d been in. But now, half a house between your and his back, why did he feel the most in danger? Rarely did fight or flight kick in, the last time he felt it was rolling around with that man who’d tried to choke the life out of you. 

No strange man here now. Just strange feelings. 

The pounding under his fingerprints became sonorous. It was becoming harder to ignore the obvious. 

Deep breaths, he had to prepare his responses. The only way to begin was with an apology, but after that he wasn’t sure where things would go. So he had to make a plan. 

Alastor hoped you’d forgive him, and accept the apology. At which point he would love to imagine himself doing something respectful like kissing your cheeks and thanking you for your mercy. 

If you didn’t accept it….Alastor had never begged a day in his life, but he could see himself begging you to stay. Perhaps hugging your ankles and promising things he didn’t have. There was no longer an impossibility in what he would do, which was alarming. The idea of him being so pathetic and pitiful was nauseating, however there was no one and nothing that could stop that if you got up and left. 

There was no way to run his lines for this. Like many other interactions with you he couldn’t bring the usual tools with him to battle. Either with your wit or point of view, or perhaps today your wrath, you always disarmed him. 

But that was what made you worth the risk. It began as entertainment, but soon enough the dome of your stage extended out and around him, sheltering Alastor in the warm light of your presence. And now as he looked around the railing of his stairs, he was scared to see the exit lights flicker on. 

Walking out the backdoor, he wondered if he would be allowed back in or if the door would lock behind him. 

He knew the exact moment he fucked up, and knew he had to begin there. Barefoot, still in yesterday’s clothes while you were in your night dress, he let himself drop to the space beside you before tentatively bringing his head down to your lap. He avoided eye contact, not yet ready to confront his adjudicator.

The pain in your words from last night were just now beginning to sting his eyes. 

‘Who am I?’

“You are my darling,” It wasn’t until he said it that he realized he hadn’t opened his mouth and spoken yet, his voice was harsh and throat dry. Who were you? It would be easier to list who you weren’t to him now. “That’s who you are.”

No unit of time existed small enough to measure the pause between what he said and your reply, but it felt like a gorge separating his breaths. 

“You sure didn’t make me feel like your anything last tonight.”  He couldn’t remember ever hearing you take such a tone; cutting and cold. Was there no longer warmth in your heart for him? He had been so drunkenly blinded by his own feelings he hadn’t stopped to think about how you were viewing his little tantrum. Maybe he hadn’t ever really had anyone around whose opinion mattered very much.

And he’d made you feel like nothing to him. The mountain of derelictions crumbled under the weight of perhaps his biggest failure of the evening, an avalanche of embarrassment and shame washed over him and he didn’t try to impede his tears. Men were only supposed to cry on their wedding day and at funerals, but he supposed this day could still go either way. Could still be as pivotal to his happiness.

“I know. I’m sorry. I was so,” what word could sum it up?

“Drunk.”

“Enraged.” a high whine caught in his throat, clenching his eyes now as the embarrassment took over stronger than he had thought possible. He felt stupid now saying he was just angry, “And drunk.”

He couldn’t entirely blame the alcohol, but he wouldn’t disagree with you now. 

“And disrespectful.”

Alastor folded in on himself, shoulders drawing in to try and curl up small enough that he ceased to exist in any meaningful way. Disrespectful. He had, he’d disrespected you in public and in private. The stunt with the keys came back and he thought he may just die from the mortification of what he’d done. 

“That too.” His hands nervously wrung the handkerchief beneath his closed thighs. What a terrible morning juxtaposed with the prior day’s bliss. A sigh, soft and weak. He remembered who was the catalyst for his buffoonery. “I want to split his skull with an ax.” 

Argh, it wasn’t about him. “I’m sorry. I— you were not wrong. I didn’t know what to do with myself when your manager said you’d been arrested. I almost drove my car into the station doors.” He was beginning to wish he had.

“So getting zozzled and shouting the personal details of a New Orleans detective into the night seemed… the better option? When I had already had a difficult night?” He flinched at the rising anger in your voice, the rhetoricals were scolding and biting his pride like a nun’s ruler to his knuckles. “When I needed your support? Comfort?”

Perhaps the death blow. All he could do was nod and accept his mistakes. But, it hurt. Not to admit them, but to confront them. Another tidal wave of emotion hit and he had to bury his face back into the cool silk of your nightwear. He couldn’t understand how he had fucked it up so badly. 

No, he had to find words. “I’d never felt so helpless, I just…I responded very selfishly. I’m sorry.” Two words did nothing, they tumbled from his mouth like feathers. Weightless. When the heavy guilt in his chest was threatening to drag him to hell with one misstep, ‘I’m sorry’ was just crystals of salt dropped in the gulf. Actions were all he had left and he wasn’t sure yet you’d give him the time to show you. 

When your fingers grazed his scalp and combed his hair from his ears he shook with relief. A tender touch that promised you didn’t hate him, and his cortisol levels immediately plummeted. He felt safe again, enough to ask what was pestering him still. 

“Will you ever let me kill him?” his lips ghosted over the mercy of your thighs.

As you thought, his fingers ran along the edges of your handkerchief. Feeling the stitched edges with precision as a distraction from the stress of waiting. 

 “When he’s no longer a threat to us. When no one will be shocked to hear he’s dead.” 

No longer a threat… what did that mean? When Brady moved on from you both, or was simply made incapable of doing you harm. He could expedite that, somehow. He was sure of it. 

His arms wrapped around your legs and caressed your thighs through the silk, “He went too far. Turning his head up, he got you into his peripheral. 

“And he knows your name.”

Oh. That … was expediting, wasn’t it? It was bound to happen. 

“I’m beginning to think it doesn’t matter.” He pulled himself closer again. Brady was nothing compared to the threat of losing you. “I’ve never been a bigger failure in all my life than last night. In every way. To myself and to you.” What a joke he was. How high and mighty and curated he tried to be that he forgot the point of it. A shield he turned to you was just a barrier between what he desperately wanted by his side. His tears returned with renewed vigor, the complete breakdown of his manicured image was a tell tale heart he couldn’t smile away anymore, the greatest weakness he was never so happy to call his own. Muffled by your clothing and inviting lap, “I just love you so much…” he choked and then sucked in a deep breath to try and get control of himself, shifting his face to the side again to watch your face for an immediate reaction to his question, “Do you want to leave me?”

He didn’t want the answer. He knew better than to ask. But – if you did, he didn’t want to keep you there. He couldn’t let the moment pass without finding out if you were just putting up with him. If you felt trapped, like Brady promised you that you would. When you told him those things, the silly things the detective had said before, you always laughed. You said it was so ridiculous. But, now, there was nothing funny about the idea. He couldn’t promise himself he wouldn’t keep that little yellow fabric in his hands even after you parted, but he could swear to not try and guilt you back into his arms. 

When you lifted him off of your body by the collar he couldn’t understand the emotion behind it. You were inspecting his face so carefully, but there was no sign of disgust or anger or even adoration to signal how he should feel. The teardrops tickled his cheeks and chin and fell unimpeded to your legs. 

Your eyes kept moving over his features, until a small tug of your lips to the side crept into a smile. Soft and obviously natural.

“Give me a little time. I’ll show you how stupid of a question that is over our first fight,” The pads of your thumbs were soft as they slid down his cheeks and gathered the moisture there. When he pulled the handkerchief to his lap, you took it and used it to further dry his face. He exhaled a broken breath when you took his face in your hands and stared into his eyes. “I never want to leave you.” His body again trembled with relief, blinking away the nth torrent of tears, “Even if I do, even if somehow I’m convinced to go, you’ll have to rip your heart out of my cold dead hands or I’ll take it with me.”

Stop. Don’t say that. “What have I told you? Don’t mention those things.” Death. Leaving. Goodbyes. “The spirits are listening.” They were always listening, watching, hoping to grab a hold of anything you said without precision and deliver you the reality you mused. He didn’t want to lecture, but he couldn’t let it go. Shh, don’t say such things. He could feel the dried tears crack as his eyes crinkled with his smile, a smile that he nearly failed to switch up to return the kiss when you pressed your lips into his. A first fight? He’d never had one of those. Typically he never got that far. Things fell apart the second someone was unhappy or unsatisfied. 

Take his heart back? His mind finally processed the words. It was yours. The morning had proved to him he couldn’t claw it back if he truly wanted, and if he was further honest with himself, he didn’t want it. It was better off with you. He felt the air cooling the once body-warm tears, he whispered what he felt was too vulnerable to say at full volume, “But, it’s not mine anymore. Isn’t that obvious?” His eyes looked down at your feet pointed in towards his own. Was this pathetic display not making it glaringly evident he was a man turned inside out? Guts in his hands and heart in yours?

You sniffled and sat up straight, bringing his attention back to you. 

“If you ever speak to me like you did last night again, with that sharp tone and cruel words, sober or not…” Your words got slower until you stopped, an almost wild look in your eyes he could read as pleading. He shook his own head subtly, unconsciously swearing he wouldn’t. 

If he ever forgot himself and you again, like he had let his rage and weakness do the night before, he didn’t deserve your forgiveness or grace anymore. A woman too good for him.  

Because he couldn’t ever get it back now, “You can take my heart with you.” 

A sickening fact. 

His body was a tool, and he’d use every tool he had available to make you understand what you meant to him. Would you feel different now, now that he knew you loved him? Would he find your body warmer, more inviting… Could he make you scream your love for him?

Later, he would have to bookmark that idea. The confession was too fragile still, a crystal figurine to precious to even take out of the box. 

⋅˚₊‧ ଳ⋆Masterlist.ೃ࿔*:･

˖ ݁𖥔.Summoning the Horny Little Deer Cult.𖥔 ݁ ˖

@eris-norwega @reath-solia @catticora , @angelicribbons , @xalygatorx

@cxrsedwxrlds , @nonetheartist , @tsunaki , @janchei , @moonmark98

, @readergirlstuff , @berry-demon , @chirimeimei , @fairyv-ice , @olive-frog ,

@thonethatflies620 , @tiredkiwiii , @ilikemyteawithmilk , @whateverlololo , @psipies

@howabouticallyou , @roxxie-wolf , @fizzled-phoenix , @star-kujo-platinum

, @a-case-of-attachment, @multifandomfanatic02 @watereddownmilk , @bontensbabygirl @smoky000

@hoebihoeshi , @pansexual-opera-house , @polytheatrix , @lorddiabigmommymilkers , @backinthefkingbuildingagain

@harley2223-blog , @poinappel , @midnightnoiserose , @spookieroz , @missmidorima ,

@ivebeenthearchersstuff , @downbadforfictionalppl , @xx-all-purpose-nerd-xx , @sleepylittledemon , @aether-th3-enby

@dontfuckbutimfab @breathlessaura , @aperfectidiot , @certainlygay , @jth12

[tan1shere]

Friends

Billie Eilish x female reader !

A/n: as a bit of an apology for that other fic... LMAOO THIS DOES HAVE A HAPPY ENDING ! I've been obsessed with this song. Like if my future gf doesn't confess her love to me with it I'm gunna sue

Summary: none of you had any idea just how inlove you guys were.

Warnings: a bit angsty at the startish ? But happy ending 😁 this ended up being so so cute eeee - also listening to the song helps near the end when they're in the rain. Makes it more magical hehe

Masterlist

It was another day. Another cold, rainy day. It had been like that for a few weeks now. But you weren't complaining, you loved this kind of weather. Drinking hot drinks, wearing cute clothes, the sound of it on the roof. Even going to cute little Cafes with friends, which is what you were on the way to do now. Your best friend Claudia, Finneas and last but not least Billie. Billie, Billie. Billie. She was beautiful, always teasing you about something but you loved it. Yes you had a crush on her. But you had to stop that.

You had been friends with Finneas first for years, and your crush developed quite quickly when you met Billie for the first time. Only a matter of days and you were drooling at the sight. She'd never see you like that though. Then you introduced Claudia to them, your long time best friend. She knew about this crush and she was the only one who did. It was only natural when she insisted you say something the day Billie came out. You had known for awhile before she publicly announced it. You were a lesbian and open about that, so she came to you when she thought she might be into girls.

It only made things worse. Making you want her even more when she confirmed she wanted to be with a woman. You so desperately wanted that woman to be you. But you doubted she saw you in that way. Causing you to push those feelings aside, and bury it deep within. The looks you always gave her go unnoticed by Claud, she tried time and time again to encourage you to just say something and that..

"You never know what could happen" She says as you and her wait on the other two to order. "Claudia there's no point, it'd just ruin things. "You don't know that!" She insists, but shuts up seconds later as they come back over. Her words always sat with you, replaying over and over in your mind. But you couldn't do it, you had to let it go. Just some silly crush you developed as a kid. It'll go away.

... It's been nearly 7 years. 7 long years with a burning crush for her. A massive secret. Who were you kidding you weren't getting over it. They come back with the drinks in hand. "Matcha for you." Finn says, handing it to Claudia. "Your favorite for you." You smile as Billie says that. She always knew. She knew exactly what you liked and what you didn't, and vise versa. Which probably made you love her even more. If anything you were certain you were inlove with her. Which is why you needed to make this stop somehow.

Few months had passed since the coffee shop. You were sitting at home, scrolling through your phone when you see tiktoks of Quen, Odessa, and Billie in one. You knew she was close with them but you had no idea just how close. But that wasn't even the icing on the cake. Your phone dings with a text from her. "Hey you!" It read. You try to ignore the pit in your stomach after seeing that stupid fucking tiktok. You couldn't let it bother you this much. "Hii Bills." - "Craziest thing right, I mean not so crazy because I've kissed her before. But i love how casual it is, Quen was just saying a joke and kissed me mid way."

Your heart stings for a bit as you read those words. That poison. "Oh really?" - "Shes honestly so funny though, just wanted to text! See how you were doing and all." You bite your lip. How's awful? "I'm fine!" You were glad this was over text cuz boy were you a bad liar. So you're glad she hasn't caught on at all to your crush. Lying your way out of that one would be a mission. Or maybe it wouldn't be. "Good! I'll talk to you later, byeee." You sigh. "Bye.." You say outloud.

Some more time passes by, and very slowly. You had been focusing more on yourself. You even got a promotion in your job. But you weren't sure if you would take it, seeing as you had to move to New York for it. It had been eating at you recently on what to do. You can't bear the thought of not seeing your friends everyday. Even if they could visit but they had busy lives too. It wouldn't be the same. And you weren't sure if you could leave her. Or maybe that was the exact thing you needed.

Maybe you needed to get away so this silly little crush could go bye bye. But once you think it over some more you come to a decision. You couldn't possibly say no to this. This was huge for you after all.

Flashback.

Another rainy day, you two were chilling in Finns basement as Billie works on a few things. She stops for a moment. "Hey, I've been working on this song for a bit. It's nothing major but can you have a listen?" You nod, leaning forward excitedly. As it plays, you fall immediately inlove. Even if it was just a snippet. "Billie! That's beautiful." You beam at her, loving it so much. She blushes slightly at the words. "It's really special. I was thinking of putting the rain in the background if I can manage to. It's so noisy tonight." You nod as she says that. "I love the rain, it brings me such a comfort. The cold weather, snuggling up into blankets. The sound!" She smiles as you talk. She always listened, especially when you rambled. "I know." She says, more so to herself seeing as you hadn't heard her.

"Hey, early like always." Claudia says to you as you enter her house. You greet Finneas and the dogs aswel. "Well you know me." They were currently throwing a small get together, something common for them to do. But you loved it. You were going to break the news tonight. It was decided. Billie had only just arrived shortly after you, coming in and saying hi to everyone. You look at her, wondering if you really should go through with this. She was your best friend. It made you wonder how she's going to take the news. Out of all of them you two were the closest. Hanging out regularly, talking on the phone. So this without a doubt would be hard.

You were all sitting around at the table, talking, eating. When a friend asks Billie if she's done anything new recently music wise. "Well, funny you should ask. I've been writing this song, it's incredibly special to me. It's about this girl, and I think I really like her." You swallow as you hear that. Was it who you think it was about? Was it that same song she got you to listen to? "Ooou Billie liking someone?" Rat pipes up. "I may do." "If you're writing a song for her you must be pretty inlove." She blushes slightly. It had to be about Quen, it just had to. You look down at your food contemplating. That whole situation just made everything easier. So you begin to speak.

"I uhm, I have a small announcement." Everyone then looks at you. Your eyes land on Billies for a split second. "I- got a promotion a few weeks ago." They all start congratulating you, even Billie. But that dies down with your next words. "It uh.. Id have to move to New York though." Things fell silent, saddened faces all around. "That sucks. But we are so proud of you, are you going to take it?" You think for a moment, you look over to Billie but her eyes were on the food on her plate. "Uhm. Yeah, I am." Cheers were then to be heard. "To Y/n!" Rat then says, raising his glass. "To Y/n!" Everyone follows. Everyone but Billie...

Flashback.

Summer time. It was almost your second favorite to winter, but nothing could ever beat your love for it. You and Billie had gone out to a meadow, it was one of her favorite things. Going out to rejoice in nature. And when you had suggested it she couldn't of been more happy. It was better than sitting around in the boiling heat in the house, even with the fan on it was scorching. There was a warm breeze as you two walked through it. Enjoying the sun and grass. Billie was behind you going to grab your wrist. "This was an amazing idea. You know me so well." You smile wide as she says that. "I also know how much energy you have. I'll race you to the end." She chuckles. "Oh please you know I'd beat you-" "Go!" You abruptly say, running off as soon as your sentence finished. "Hey!" She yells running after you.

The whole paddock was huge so it took you a little bit. Along the way you both give up, but as you were about to stop your body's being tackled to the ground. "Gotcha!" She says pinning your arms down. You laugh. "No fair!" Her brow raises. "You know what's not fair? You getting a head start you little cheat." You laugh even more. "I have no clue what you're on about." It was her turn to laugh. "And a liar!" Her hands move to tickle your sides. "Billie!" "A bad one at that." Now your laughs were uncontrollable. She kept going until something sparks. You hadn't realized how close she was. Both of your eyes locking. Everything stills. Her movements. Your breathing. Maybe even time did too. You look at her lips for a second and that's when you look away. Her hand gently grabs your jaw. "You still lost." Your eyes roll going to push her off. "Har har."

She falls beside you as you both lay on your back. Taking in the sky silently. "Everything is so beautiful." You breathe. "Yeah." Billie replies. She wasn't looking at the sky.

The time was nearing. You were packing up your things a few days earlier. Honestly, you were so excited. This could be a brand new start, a refresher. After a longish day you were driving over to Finneas and Claudia's, wanting to spend as much time with them as possible. Wondering why Billie wasn't mentioned? Because she may not even be there. She hasn't been there. Ever since that night, nor had she texted you since then. Which is something she did daily. It broke your heart. But maybe that just made it even easier to leave. Maybe..

"Got most packed?" Claudia asks. You nod, seemingly distracted. "Hey, everything alright?" You look at her. "Oh yeah, just thinking about missing you guys- when. I leave." She had known you for longer than they have, even if you were a bad liar she saw right through you. "Spill." You sigh. "We haven't spoken in weeks.." Her brows furrow. "You and Billie?" You just nod, kinda wanting to avoid this whole thing right now. "Ever since I announced it she's shut me out." Claudia's features softened. "Maybe she just needed time she's your best friend it'll surely hurt-" "But as a best friend she should be here for me. Even if that is so."

Things grew silent, not the horrible kind. "I'm sorry." You shrug. "Guess even in friendship she doesn't want it." - "That's not true." You shrug again. "Even before I mentioned this whole thing she had grown distant. Its like I didn't even matter anymore. She was too busy focusing on this girl." Maybe you hadn't realized how much it upset you. You didn't want it to. But it finally got to you. Claudia notices and brings you in for a hug. She soothes you, trying to not make things seem worse. After a bit you both pull back. "You're going to call me everyday ok? And we will talk about anything and everything." She wipes your slight tears.

Feeling her own fall. You nod, planning on doing so. "Im going to miss you guys." She brings you in for a final hug. "We are going to miss you more."

Flashback.

Parties were something you aren't sure you're use to. But it was quite a frequent thing. Seeing as who you were friends with were in that scene. "I hope this isn't boring like some of them." You sigh, watching Billie come out of your bathroom. She was wearing a loose black button up shirt and some very laid back pants. Another thing you loved about her, she didn't try to be fashionable. She was just always comfortable. "Oh come onnn, it could be so fun!" Even she didn't believe that. She agreed with you, parties like these were just an excuse to drink or get high and you hated it. Everyone could enjoy themselves when they are actually themselves instead of being intoxicated. "I'll make it fun." She then says, striding over to you. Billie had always been flirty in anything she did. Whether it was her tone or actions it'd always be noticeable. Which sure as hell didn't help with the fucking crush.

And delicate touch to your body had you shivering. It felt like she did it on purpose. Maybe she was? "And how do you suppose you'd do that?" She shrugs, getting closer. "Just by being me." Your brows raises, trying so hard to not let show how much of an effect she has on you currently. "If you say so." But that whole night was something else. Sure she could be touchy, and never in a bad way. It was her love language after all. But something about the way you danced together, the way each moment felt. Sure as hell didn't feel like a just friends thing. But ofcourse you were delusional. Because the next day, things were back to the same friendliness. It hurt, all you wanted was to be hers but she didn't feel the same. And you had to accept that.

It was the last day before your move. "This is for Y/n." Finneas says on their couch. It was just him, you, Claudia. And ofcourse Billie. You doubted she even wanted to come at the way she's been acting lately. It upset and angered you. What was wrong with her? "Our best friend. And cheers to the new chapter she's starting!" He finishes. "Here here!" Claudia chimes in. Your heart just sinks as you turn to look at Billie. She was on her phone. Probably texting the mystery girl. You look at your drink, sighing internally. Finneas and Claud just look at one another. "Congrats Y/n." Finneas then concludes.

A slight sadness in his voice. You nod slowly as you 3 drink to it. The night goes on, you wanted some more blue cheese so you get up and go to the kitchen, Billie happening to be there. Things were awkward. You really didn't want them to end this way. "Can't believe it's tomorrow." You say, breaking the air. "Yeah, came by fast." There was more awkward silence. God you felt like crying why was she being like this. But that anger comes back as shes on her phone, again. The last night you have together and she's texting some bitch. "Really?" You manage to get out, after what felt like ages of bottling up whatever it was inside you.

Her eyes move to look at you. "Huh?" You grit your teeth. She sees your eyes gloss over, opening her mouth to speak. "You haven't spoken to me in weeks." You snap. She doesn't say anything, unsure of exactly what she could say. There's many things, but choosing was tricky. "Just forget it, I'm going to go home and rest. Got a big day tomorrow." You say to everyone as you grab your bag, heading out. Remembering you had taken an Uber, grabbing your phone but struggle as the pouring rain shoots down. "Wait!" You then hear behind you.

"No Billie." You really didn't want to speak to her after all she hadn't, all month. All night for fuck sakes. "Please let me talk." You ignore her trying hard to call this damn Uber, but the rain wasn't helping in the slightest. She grabs your phone making you look at her. "Hey!" You say, feeling tears flow. It was hard to tell mixed with the rain. But she notices. She notices everything. "I'm s-" You push her away. "N-no." You shiver. "You hurt me." She stands there dumbfounded. That's not at all what she wanted. Far from it. She's reized how much she's hurt you.

"Please, I really am sorry I shouldn't have iced you out. I was just shocked and a little hurt you hadn't mentioned this to me." You fold your arms not looking at her. "I hadn't told anyone." She scratches her head. "Yeah but, out of anyone I thought youd atleast tell me." You turn to her. "Why? Why do you think that? You haven't been the best friend to me recently. Hell i don't even know what to think anymore." She shakes her head. "Don't say that, please I'm sorry." You stay quiet for a moment. "Just give me my phone."

She was hesitant but with a sigh she does. You soon get fed up, going to walk. "It's freezing, you can't just walk home." - "Why do you care all of a sudden Billie. It's not like you've been so caring lately?!" Another bit of silence. You just shake your head. "Well?" She thinks for a moment. "This morning. I woke up from a dream. Where you and I had to say goodbye." You had no clue where this was going but you were growing inpatient. Wanting a proper answer. "And I don't know what it all means... But since then I realized. Wherever you go that's where I'll follow."

You roll your eyes a bit, not even sure you're getting where this is going, patience growing thinner. "Im tired Billie, goodnight and goodbye." You say walking off again. She started to panic. Frantically thinking. "Y/n!" When you wouldn't stop she sighs. "I love you!" Your feet come to halt at the words. "Or rather, inlove with you." Your eyes widen. Was this a dream too? Were you dreaming? You slowly turn around to look at her. "W-what?" You look at eachother, feeling as if time had stopped again. "If the world was ending I'd wanna be next to you."

You feel tears again. This is all you've been longing from her. "Are you serious?" You question. "Serious as anything." You smile, more tears coming down your cheeks. You run over to her, she instinctively picks you up. And finally something else you had been longing for, happened just like that. You felt eachothers lips. Molding together perfectly. It lasted for what felt like eternity. Neither of you wanted to pull away, you knew you needed to though. The rain pours more over you. Making both of your hair sticks to your faces. She moves yours out the way.

"I'm hoping you feel the same?" You laugh. "Yes you idiot. For over 7 years." She smiles wide, so happy that this could finally happen. "Wait- what about the girl- the mystery one?" She chuckles. "We really were blind huh?" Your brows furrow in confusion. "The song was about you. But I never said anything because I was worried I'd ruin things." Your head shakes. "Oh thank God, I honestly thought it was Quen." You breathe out relieved. "Oh goodness no, she's just a friend. Even if I had kissed her it was more of an experience." You nod, understanding everything more now.

"So the song was about me?" You beam. She reflects the same actions. "I thought the lyrics would've been obvious to be honest. Especially with the rain part." - "Guess it just flew past my head." You lock eyes once again. "Well since I know how much rain means to you. What if I asked you a very special question while we're out here in it." Your head tilts. Her hands grabbing your own. "Will you be my girlfriend?" You smile. "I thought you'd never ask." You seal the deal with a kiss. You fell first. But she fell harder.

"No seriously I thought you'd never ask." You both laugh, heading over to her car so you can get home.

[mythicalmaven]

Beyond Boundaries - Oscar Piastri (THIRTEEN)

A very angsty chapter but with a good ending! whoops! The positive will return, no worries! <3

Masterlist ↳pairing: oscar piastri x female!norris!reader ↳word count: 4,3K ↳chapters: One, Two, Three, Four, Five, Six, Seven, Eight, Nine, Ten, Eleven, Twelve, ↳chapter warnings: friends to lovers, brothers teammate trope, talking about feelings, crying, realizations, angst (but with a happy ending)

↳series summary: Since Oscar joined McLaren as your brother’s teammate, you two have quickly become best friends. Recently promoted to be Oscar’s physiotherapist, you both relish the opportunity to spend more time together. However, as the new role brings you closer, you both realize you might be feeling more a little more for each other than just friendship

“OSCAR JACK PIASTRI!” Lando’s voice rang through the hall as he barged into Oscar’s hotel room, eyes blazing with barely contained rage. “YOU ARE SO DEAD!”

Oscar, hunched over his suitcase, froze and looked up, bewildered. He could tell immediately that Lando was beyond furious, but he couldn’t fathom what had set him off.

“Lando, what the hell are you talking about?” he asked, eyebrows furrowed, scratching the back of his neck in confusion.

Oscar had just arrived back after qualifying, planning to freshen up before heading over to your room, as he did every race weekend. He’d been thinking about you the entire way back, looking forward to unwinding together, the familiarity of those private moments giving him a sense of calm after the intensity of the day. But now, standing here, all he could do was rack his brain, trying to figure out what could have provoked Lando like this.

Lando’s fists clenched, the knuckles going white as he glared at Oscar with pure disgust. He slammed the door behind him, sending a tremor through the room. “Don’t play dumb with me, Oscar. You know exactly what I’m talking about.”

Oscar’s face twisted in confusion, his mind whirling. Was this some bizarre prank? Lando was known for his sense of humor, but this felt... different. More intense. More real. Slowly, he got up from his crouched position and perched himself on the edge of the bed, his voice calm but uncertain. “Lando, I seriously have no clue what’s going on. Did I do something wrong?”

Lando let out a humorless laugh, practically spitting the air out in disbelief. “Are you actually this clueless, or are you just lying straight to my face right now?”

Oscar’s patience was wearing thin. “Lando, for the last time, what is going on?” he demanded, voice rising as frustration bled into his tone.

Lando’s face twisted with anger, and he kicked the door behind him, a loud bang reverberating through the room. “Jesus Christ, Oscar, you’re a fucking asshole.” His eyes flashed as he took a step closer, his voice dripping with disdain. “Maybe next time, don’t lie to my sister about your so-called ‘feelings’ for her if you plan on sticking your tongue down someone else’s throat behind her back.”

Oscar’s heart stopped, his face going pale. “Lando,” he began, trying to keep his voice steady, “What are you talking about? I had to kiss her on the cheek, nothing more. You knew about that—you know it meant nothing.”

But Lando’s expression only grew darker. “Oh, so now you’re not just an asshole; now you’re a liar too. I’m not talking about that.”

Oscar’s stomach twisted. He had no idea what Lando was getting at, but a cold unease settled over him. “What are you going on about, then?”

“If you were trying to hide your little escapade with that attention-seeking bitch, maybe next time you should close the damn door of your driver’s room before deciding to shove your tongue down her throat.”

Oscar’s face drained of color, realization finally sinking in. “Oh god, did you see that?” He stammered, starting to explain, but Lando cut him off sharply.

“I didn’t,” he hissed, eyes blazing, “but she did.”

Oscar’s heart shattered, his voice catching. “I promise, Lando, it’s not what it looked like.”

Lando’s laugh was sharp and bitter. “Yeah, that’s what they all say.” His fists clenched tighter, his voice deadly quiet. “You’d better have a damn good explanation for this, Oscar. Because if you don’t—and I mean it—if you even think of stepping near her again, I swear to god, I’ll fucking kill you.”

Oscar was left in stunned silence as Lando spat the words at him, guilt and regret washing over him like a tidal wave. His mind flickered back to what had happened earlier, replaying each moment with increasing dread.

*flashback to earlier*

Oscar had been in his driver’s room, unwinding after the high of qualifying, hoping to cool down before meeting up with you. Ava had followed him in, chattering on about the race and the PR obligations they’d fulfilled. They shared a laugh about the awkward peck on the cheek they’d had to perform for the cameras, the faint taste of staged affection still lingering.

“You looked so stiff out there, Oscar,” Ava teased, smirking. “You know, if we don’t make it look real, they’re going to know. We should really practice if we want people to buy it.”

Oscar tensed, shifting uncomfortably. “I think we’re fine, Ava. It’s just PR. We’re not meant to look that serious anyway.”

She rolled her eyes, brushing off his hesitation. “Come on, Oscar. Don’t be so uptight. This is for show. It doesn’t mean anything.” Her voice softened, and she took a step closer, her eyes glittering. “Let me teach you a few tricks. Just… trust me.”

He backed away slightly, eyeing the door. “This really isn’t a good idea, Ava. It could easily go too far.”

But Ava seemed determined, giving him a knowing smile as she leaned in and pecked him lightly on the lips, her eyes flickering toward the door. Oscar felt his stomach clench, a mix of unease and annoyance. He didn’t want this. He didn’t want her. He was only doing this entire act to protect you from unwanted scrutiny and questions.

“See?” she murmured, stepping closer still, her fingers brushing his cheek. “It’s not so bad. A bit of practice never hurt anyone.”

Before he could protest, she was kissing him again, her arms winding around his neck as she pulled him in closer. He hesitated, feeling every fiber of his being rejecting this, but her hand slid around to the back of his neck, urging him to deepen the kiss. Uncertain, he felt her hand snake up into his hair, tugging lightly as she pressed closer, the intensity escalating.

Oscar was caught off guard, feeling her press her hips into his, guiding his hands to rest on her waist. He’d barely noticed the way her eyes darted toward the door, a glint of mischief flashing in them as if she knew someone was watching.

He froze, suddenly overwhelmed by a wave of discomfort, his mind flooded with the realization of how much he didn’t want any of this. Summoning all the strength he had, he pushed her away, breaking the kiss and stepping back, his face flushed with frustration and embarrassment.

“Ava, this isn’t right,” he muttered, his voice strained. “I’m not comfortable with this at all. This isn’t what I signed up for.”

She smirked, feigning innocence. “Oh, really? You didn’t seem uncomfortable a second ago.”

He clenched his jaw, fighting the urge to snap back. “I’m doing this PR stunt for the sake of appearances. To protect someone I care about. But I’m not going to pretend that you and I…" he said, gesturing his finger in her direction and then back to himself "are anything real, because it's anything but.” He gestured to the door, his voice quiet but firm. “Please. Just leave.”

She shrugged, her smirk lingering as she made her way out, leaving him alone in the room, a strange mix of relief and dread pooling in his stomach.

*end of flashback*

The memory dissolved, and Oscar found himself back in the awkward quiet of his hotel room, his heart pounding in his chest as Lando’s words echoed in his mind. You’d seen it. You’d seen everything.

Oscar’s stomach twisted violently, leaving him feeling nauseated and weak. His mind was a churning mess, every second replaying the scene, the look on Ava’s face, the moment he’d seen her eyes flick toward the door. That sickening realization that she had known. And worse, that you had seen it all. It was as if the ground had been ripped out from under him; his legs felt unsteady, his heart beating erratically, each thud filling him with a helpless dread.

Lando looked down at him, his expression hard and unyielding, arms crossed tightly over his chest. There was no pity in his stare, only barely controlled rage mixed with something that might have been desperation. Lando’s voice was low, but the intensity cut through the air like a knife. “I don’t know if what you’re saying is true, Oscar, or if you’re just a damn good liar,” he said. “But if you’re serious about this, if you really care about her, you’d better get your ass over there and fix this. Because I don't ever wanna see that look on her face, ever again.”

Lando’s words struck hard, each one landing like a punch. The warning wasn’t just a threat; it was a declaration, a fierce brotherly loyalty that Oscar knew was unwavering. The way Lando looked at him, with such disdain mixed with pain, it cut Oscar to his core.

“If I find out you’re lying,” Lando continued, his jaw clenched, “I will make sure you lose that seat at McLaren. I’ll make it my mission, Oscar. You know how much my sister means to me.” He shook his head, an angered exhale escaping him. “I warned you about hurting her.”

Oscar couldn’t hold back any longer. His voice shook as he forced the words out, raw and desperate. “Lando, I swear to you, I’m telling the truth.” His hands clenched at his sides as he looked down, feeling his chest tighten painfully. “This is… it’s such a horrible misunderstanding. I never wanted any of this to happen.”

Emotion welled up inside him, a mix of fear, shame, and regret, and he felt his throat close up, his vision blurring. His breath grew uneven, and despite himself, a tear slid down his cheek. Then another, until he could feel the hot, shameful trail of them spilling freely, powerless to stop.

Lando’s expression softened slightly as he watched Oscar crumble before him, the fight momentarily leaving his own features as he absorbed the depth of Oscar’s remorse. He looked away for a moment, as if weighing his options, and then his voice came, gruff but more measured. “Then you need to go to her,” he said quietly. “Go to her, now. She’s going to be devastated. If you’re telling the truth, you can fix this. But you’d better go now.”

Oscar swallowed hard, nodding. He was already reaching for his jacket, his heart still pounding but with a sense of urgency to repair the damage. He couldn’t bear the thought of you feeling hurt, betrayed. The very thought twisted the knife in his gut, driving him forward.

“One more thing.” Lando’s voice stopped him in his tracks, and Oscar turned back to see him standing firm, his eyes cold again. “This PR thing—it’s making things worse. If you really want a future with her, end it. Because if this ever happens again, you’re going to lose her. And you’re going to lose a hell of a lot more.”

Oscar met his gaze, giving a solemn nod. “You’re right. I’ll stop it. I can’t… I can’t put her through this.” His voice was barely a whisper, but the conviction was there.

Lando held his gaze a beat longer, then sighed, giving a slight nod of grudging acceptance. “Go fix this, Oscar. And don’t make me regret trusting you.”

⁺⋆⁺₊⁺⋆ ☾⋆⁺₊⁺⋆ ☾⋆⁺₊⁺ ⋆⁺

After spending time with Lando, letting yourself unload the heartbreak and confusion, you’d assured him you’d be alright eventually—that you just needed some time alone. Retreating to your hotel room, you tried desperately to hold yourself together, to avoid being swallowed whole by the storm of emotions that seemed intent on drowning you. But the harder you tried, the more impossible it felt.

You caught your reflection in the bathroom mirror, and the sight was sobering. Your eyes were bloodshot, rimmed with smudged mascara that had streaked down your cheeks in uneven, telltale lines. You looked broken, more raw and vulnerable than you could remember feeling in a long time. The weight of it settled heavily, pressing down on you with each passing second.

A knock at the door pulled you from your thoughts. Startled, you wiped your face quickly, taking a deep, steadying breath before walking over to the door. You didn’t open it, unwilling to let anyone see you like this. “Lando,” you called out, your voice strained, “I told you I’m fine. Just… just go.”

But instead of your brother’s familiar voice, you heard the voice you least expected—and least wanted to hear.

“Y/N, it’s me,” Oscar’s voice was soft, rough around the edges. You froze, feeling your heart twist painfully at the sound of him. Every part of you wanted to sink against the door, to open it, to confront him. But instead, you stiffened, the hurt quickly filling the space where vulnerability once lingered.

“Just leave me alone,” you managed, barely able to keep the tremor out of your voice.

“Please, baby,” Oscar’s voice broke on the word, thick with desperation. “Please, open the door. Let me explain. It’s all… it’s all a big misunderstanding.”

A wave of emotion washed over you, and your chest tightened as you sank slowly to the floor, resting your back against the door as you fought to keep your voice steady. “There’s nothing to explain, Oscar. I was there. I saw it,” you whispered, pulling your knees up to your chest and burying your face between them, as if trying to block out the memory of it.

“You don’t get it, Y/N,” he pressed, his voice breaking again. “It wasn’t what it looked like.”

You let out a bitter laugh, muffled as you pressed your head against your knees. “Oscar,” you mumbled, voice hollow, “You had your tongue down her throat. There wasn’t any press around, no cameras to put on a show for. You can’t call it anything but what it was.” Your voice was so quiet, almost fragile, just loud enough for him to hear through the door. “Besides… It's not like you owe me anything. We were never exclusive. I’m not your girlfriend.” You swallowed hard, the words cutting deep. “And considering what I saw, it’s obvious you don’t want that either."

There was a long pause, the silence stretching between you two, heavy and painful. You could feel him on the other side of the door, his presence almost palpable, and it took everything in you not to reach for the handle. But your heart was guarded, waiting, hesitant to give in so easily.

The silence was broken by a ragged, unsteady breath, and then you heard him sink down to the floor on the other side of the door, mirroring you, with only the cold, impersonal wood between you.

“Please… please don’t say that,” he whispered, his voice barely holding together. “I know I don’t deserve for you to listen to me right now, but it wasn’t what you think. It wasn’t real.” His voice cracked, and you could hear the tremor in his words, the strain of holding back tears. “Ava, she… she forced it. I didn’t want it, I didn’t—I pushed her away.” His words were stumbling, broken by emotion, and you could feel his desperation as he tried to explain himself, to make you see the truth he was so desperate for you to understand.

You stayed silent, torn between wanting to believe him and the vivid memory of what you had seen. Part of you, the part that had loved and trusted him, wanted to believe every word. But another part, the one that had been hurt, was afraid to trust again, afraid to be vulnerable. You felt your throat tighten, your hands curling into fists as you struggled to hold back your own tears, feeling them dry on your cheeks as you pressed yourself harder against the door.

He paused, gathering himself before continuing, his voice raw with honesty and regret. “She kept… pushing it, saying we needed to make it look real enough for people to believe it. She’d go on about how it would all fall apart if we didn’t act convincing, kept saying we had to practice that stupid kiss.” He let out a shaky breath, his voice dropping to almost a whisper. “I told her no, but she just wouldn’t stop pressing, and then she just kissed me"

He took a shaky breath, his words fractured and heavy with guilt. “I-I didn’t want it,” he stammered, his voice thick as he tried to speak through his tears. “I swear… I didn’t want any of it.” His voice cracked, a choked sob escaping as he struggled to keep going, the desperation evident in every trembling syllable.

You heard him shift against the door, his back pressed firmly as if trying to ground himself. “I felt trapped,” he continued, his words punctuated by small, hitched breaths. “Like… like if I didn’t go along with it, I’d ruin everything—the whole stupid plan. And… I didn’t want to drag you into that. I was scared. I didn't want to ruin things for you”

Another tear-choked breath left him, his voice barely above a whisper. “But I… I couldn’t keep doing it. I pushed her away. I told her I couldn’t—” His voice broke, a raw, unsteady exhale filling the silence as he struggled to compose himself. “I told her it was wrong. I told her it was wrong, and I wanted it to stop.”

His voice faded, overcome by a quiet sob that made the door between you feel thin, almost nonexistent. The vulnerability in his tears was unmistakable, and even in the silence, you could feel the weight of his remorse pressing against you.

Oscar’s voice grew softer, pleading. “You don’t have to say anything if… if you don’t want to. But I just need you to know that it wasn’t me. I didn’t want that, any of it.” His voice faltered, but he kept going. “I’m done with this stupid agreement, this entire PR stunt. I’ll quit it—even if it doesn’t mean I get you back. I just… I can’t keep doing this. I love you, Y/N.” His voice dropped, barely more than a whisper, the words raw and honest.

The vulnerability in his voice tugged at something deep inside you, pulling you closer to that fine line between anger and forgiveness. You felt the sincerity of his words, the pain that bled through them, and despite yourself, part of you believed him. But the fear held you back, the hurt silencing the words that you wanted to say.

A silence fell between you, thick with unspoken words and shared pain. You could hear his shaky breathing through the door, and you knew he was crying. The sound wrenched at your heart, stirring a sadness that mixed with your own, leaving you feeling both hollow and heavy, unable to find the words to respond.

Moments later, footsteps echoed down the hallway. You could hear someone approaching, and then a familiar voice—one that made your stomach twist.

“Well, well, Oscar,” Ava’s voice cooed, feigning sympathy. “Is it really worth all this? She’s not worth it, you know.”

Oscar’s shoulders tensed, his breathing growing heavier as he turned to look at her, his eyes flashing with a newfound clarity, a sharpness born of betrayal. He recoiled from her, yanking his shoulder away from her touch, his expression a mixture of disgust and fury. Without a second thought, he rose to his feet, facing her with a look that could have frozen fire.

“You’ve done enough,” he spat, his voice low and filled with a venom you’d never heard before. “You’ve already ruined everything. Leave me alone.”

But Ava merely arched an eyebrow, her smile twisting as if amused by his anger. She opened her mouth, perhaps to retort, but Oscar didn’t give her a chance.

“Just… stay the hell away from me.” His voice was louder now, strong and unwavering, the raw pain of it echoing through the corridor. “I don’t ever want to see you near me again. Not at the track, not anywhere. You hear me?” He took a step back, his voice rising with each word, carrying both fury and anguish. “I’m done with this agreement. Done with you. Done with this entire PR stunt!”

The volume of his voice carried through the door, and even you could hear the finality in it. For a brief moment, the hurt and anger felt a bit lighter, a flicker of hope stirring beneath it all. The words he’d said, the fire in his voice—it felt real.

There was a shuffling of footsteps as Ava moved away, clearly surprised by his outburst. Oscar remained standing in the hallway, staring after her until the corridor grew silent again, empty save for him and the lingering echo of his words.

Slowly, he sank back down, his back pressed against the door again, his breath coming in short, shaky bursts. He didn’t say anything else, but his quiet, broken presence felt closer than words could convey. And though your heart was still bruised, still guarded, you found yourself shifting slightly, pressing your shoulder to the door, closer to where you knew he sat on the other side.

Oscar took a deep, shuddering breath, wiping at his eyes as he sat against the door. You listened to the sounds leaving the Australian's mouth, still pressed against the other side, your heart aching with every tear-choked word he’d spoken. Slowly, as silence settled around you both, you felt him begin to shift, his weight moving as he gathered himself to leave. He exhaled quietly, almost as if he were accepting that this was the end, that he’d done all he could.

The thought of him leaving stirred something urgent within you, a longing that broke through the hurt and fear. Without fully thinking it through, you reached for the handle. Just as Oscar rose, taking a few hesitant steps away, you opened the door.

“Oscar,” you whispered, reaching out to grab his arm.

He turned around sharply, his red-rimmed eyes wide with surprise as he stared down at you, disbelief mingling with the faintest glimmer of hope. For a long, fragile moment, the two of you simply looked at each other, the air thick with everything unsaid, every apology, every promise, every feeling that had built up over months. The intensity of his gaze, softened by the tears still brimming in his eyes, filled you with warmth, melting away the last of your hesitation.

You took a shaky breath, your voice barely more than a whisper. “I… I love you too, Oscar.”

The words seemed to break something within him. His face crumpled, a fresh tear slipping down his cheek as he reached out, cupping your face in his hands as if you were something precious, fragile, something he couldn’t bear to let slip away. His thumbs brushed over your cheeks, wiping away the last remnants of your tears, his gaze so full of tenderness and vulnerability that it took your breath away.

And then, without another word, he leaned in, his lips meeting yours with a quiet desperation, a raw need that spoke of every moment of anguish, of every ounce of longing he’d carried for you. His lips were soft but insistent, moving with a careful, almost reverent passion, as if he were pouring everything he felt into this one kiss. You could feel the slight tremble in his hands, the way his fingers pressed gently but firmly against your skin, grounding himself in your warmth.

The kiss deepened, slowly, his lips parting as he moved closer, pulling you into him as if he couldn’t bear to be separated by even a breath. His tears mingled with yours, salty and warm, the emotions overwhelming as the kiss became a quiet exchange of love and sorrow, each movement a promise, a silent plea to never let go. Your hands found their way to his shoulders, fingers curling into the fabric of his shirt as you held him close, grounding yourself in the solid warmth of him.

His tongue brushed lightly against your bottom lip, a gentle request that you answered by parting your lips, allowing him in. As your tongues met, a wave of emotion washed over you both, the kiss growing deeper, more intense, every second drawing you closer, until it felt as though nothing else in the world existed but the two of you. The taste of him, the softness of his lips, the way his breath mingled with yours—it was intoxicating, and you felt yourself melting into him, surrendering fully to the quiet, consuming love that bound you together.

His hands slid down to your waist, pulling you flush against him as the kiss grew needier, more fervent, yet still so achingly tender. Your lips moved together in perfect harmony, slow and deliberate, savoring each touch, each taste, until the world seemed to fade away. He tilted his head slightly, deepening the kiss even further, his tongue caressing yours with a slow, deliberate intimacy that left you breathless. It was as if he was pouring every unsaid word, every unexpressed feeling, into this moment, and you could feel it in every movement, every touch, every trembling breath.

After what felt like a lifetime, the two of you slowly broke apart, your foreheads coming to rest against each other as you both tried to catch your breath, your eyes still closed, savoring the warmth and closeness. His hands lingered on your cheeks, his thumbs brushing gently over your skin as if he couldn’t bear to stop touching you, to lose this connection even for a moment.

“Please,” you murmured, your voice soft and full of emotion. “Please be mine.”

Oscar’s breath hitched, and he opened his eyes, his gaze meeting yours with a vulnerability that took your breath away. “I’ve always been yours,” he whispered, his voice thick with emotion.

You managed a small, tearful smile, your fingers brushing over his cheek, wiping away the remnants of his tears. “I mean… for real this time. Be my boyfriend. Please,” you said, your voice a soft, tender plea.

A smile broke through his tears, a pure, radiant joy lighting up his face as he looked at you, his eyes shimmering with a love so deep it was almost overwhelming. “There’s nothing I would love more,” he murmured, his voice soft and trembling with happiness.

And in that moment, wrapped in each other’s arms, you felt the pain and heartache begin to fade, replaced by a quiet, steady warmth, a promise of something real, something lasting.

—————⋆⁺₊⋆ ☾⋆⁺₊⋆ ☾⋆⁺₊⋆ ⋆⁺—————

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[joyfulcowboycandy]

My tears, oh my tears, I just read your Lilia fic😭😭😭😭I don't think I'll be able to get through my day well. I really need a happy ending for him with her🤧🤧🤧

HI ANON! Thank you for your request ❤! I had to think pretty hard for an idea and I settled on this I hope it's satisfactory! I'm not very good at writing fluff and happy endings so I tried my best:p

Lilia Vonrogue x Reader

❥ part two (part 1: here)

Content warning: none

fem reader

Lilia had spent countless years as a hardened warrior, fighting on the front lines and keeping his heart guarded from attachment or sentimentality. But when she died in his arms, all his strength and resilience seemed to dissolve. Now, he was left with only her memory—and the child she’d entrusted to him, Silver. Raising Silver should have been a way to honor her, but each day felt like a reminder of his failure to protect her. Despite this, he kept her memory close, never sharing the truth with anyone else.

When he’d returned to Briar Valley, he had simply told others he’d found the boy abandoned. He didn’t want their sympathy, their prying questions, or their pity. She was his secret, a part of his soul he guarded as fiercely as any territory he’d once protected in battle.

Though he loved Silver fiercely, Lilia struggled to raise him properly. Silver was human, fragile and dependent in a way that bewildered him. Malleus, though eager to help, was just as lost. He was unused to anything so delicate, and his fascination with Silver’s human traits sometimes did more harm than good.

“I do not understand, Lilia,” Malleus said once as they watched Silver wail at the unfamiliar taste of solid food. “Why does he reject this nourishment? Fae children devour their first meals.”

Lilia only chuckled, masking his own frustration. “Human babies don’t always eat everything, Malleus. They’re… unpredictable.”

But when he was alone, Lilia was less assured. How could he teach a child when his own life had been war and solitude? He often tried to remember the warmth of her smile as she held Silver, the way she’d cradled him with a patience and gentleness he could never seem to match. He’d even picked up books on human parenting, flipping through pages with an intensity usually reserved for military strategies. Yet, with every attempt to follow the words, he felt her absence even more sharply, the emptiness of her laughter lingering in the silence of their small home.

Silver was growing quickly, and with him, Lilia’s feelings shifted. At times, Silver’s big eyes, so much like hers, would look up at him with a trust that made Lilia’s heart ache. But he was also reminded of his failings. How could he raise this child with warmth when he had none left to give? He was a warrior, not a father. And yet… he couldn’t let her down. Each time he saw Silver sleep, curled up and peaceful, he’d lean against the doorway and watch, feeling something unfamiliar and gentle soften his battle-worn heart.

‧₊˚ ☁️⋅♡𓂃 ࣪ ִֶָ☾.          Years Later

As he grew older, Silver began to notice things that didn’t quite fit the stories his father told him. Lilia had always said he found Silver, abandoned and alone, and that he’d taken him in. But there were gaps in the story, inconsistencies that left Silver questioning his past.

Sometimes, late at night, Silver would wake to find his father sitting by the fire, staring into the flames with a distant, sorrowful expression Silver had rarely seen. And sometimes, Lilia would hold a small trinket—a ribbon, or a faded piece of cloth—that he quickly hid whenever Silver approached.

“Father,” Silver asked once, “were you alone when you found me?”

Lilia’s gaze shifted, and he masked his expression with a wry smile. “You were all I found that day, Silver. Just a bundle of trouble waiting to happen.”

But Silver couldn’t shake the feeling that there was more to it. Over time, he learned not to ask too many questions, knowing they would only be deflected. Yet, the mysteries lingered, especially in the moments when he saw a softness in Lilia that he couldn’t quite understand—a gentleness that seemed to speak of someone else.

One night, Silver dozed off after a long day of training, only to find himself drifting into a dream unlike any he’d ever had before. It felt unusually vivid, he realized he were stepping into someone else’s memories rather than his own. He was in a dimly lit forest clearing, and through a haze of recollection, he saw his father, but not as he knew him. This version of Lilia seemed slightly younger, sterner, his gaze sharper and full of fire. And beside him was a woman Silver had never seen before.

She was human, with soft, gentle eyes, and the way she looked at his father was unlike anything Silver had ever witnessed. In one scene, she was gently binding a wound on Lilia’s arm, her hands steady and careful. Lilia was grumbling, clearly unused to being cared for in such a way, but there was a tenderness in his eyes, a look Silver had never seen directed at anyone before.

The memory shifted, and now she was holding a small child—an infant Silver realized with a start was himself. She whispered to the baby in her arms, her words too soft for him to hear, but the expression of love on her face was unmistakable. And when Lilia glanced at her, it was with a mix of admiration, something deeper and unspoken lingering in his gaze.

Silver stirred, feeling an ache in his chest he couldn’t explain. Who was this woman, and why had his father never mentioned her? The dream faded, but the questions remained, and the next morning, he couldn’t hold back any longer.

“Father,” he began hesitantly, watching Lilia’s face, “I had a dream last night… or maybe a memory. There was a woman with you. She looked… kind.”

Lilia stiffened, his usual mirth fading as he met Silver’s gaze. For a moment, he was silent, his eyes betraying a depth of pain Silver had never seen before.

“She was…” Lilia’s voice was barely a whisper. “Someone I lost long ago.”

Silver remained quiet, sensing the weight of the memory and the love his father had hidden all these years. Though Lilia didn’t offer any more details, Silver understood that this woman—his mother—had been someone truly special. 

Silver felt a quiet desperation gnawing at him. Now that he had glimpsed a fragment of her—a woman he felt connected to yet hardly knew—a hollow ache settled in his chest. His father had always kept his sorrow hidden, masking any sign of grief with his usual humor and lightheartedness. But after seeing her, Silver couldn’t ignore the emptiness left by her absence, and he couldn’t accept that this was the end of their story.

The longing grew sharper with each day, his mind drifting back to the mystery of her—a mother he barely remembered, a bond he could only dream of. How could he let things end like this? To never have truly known her felt wrong. Still, he was just a human, and what power did he have over something as final as death?

But the thought wouldn’t let him rest. He was not as helpless as he felt. He was strong, he knew magic, and he was connected to some of the most powerful beings in Twisted Wonderland. Surely there was a way—some forbidden knowledge, some hidden path he hadn’t yet considered.

And then he remembered the rumors, whispers of a witch who resided far beyond Briar Valley, somewhere between worlds, where human souls and fae magic brushed against each other. A powerful sorceress who understood the mysteries of life and death and could speak to the spirits themselves.

The path to this witch wouldn’t be easy, but Silver knew he couldn’t turn back now. This was something he had to do—not just for himself, but for the one who had given everything for him, the one he knew his father had loved in a way he had never spoken of.

Silver set out quietly, keeping his journey a secret from his father, Sebek and Malleus. He ventured through dense forests and past enchanted lakes, traveling farther than he ever had before. His heart remained steadfast, though fear began to settle in as he neared his destination.

Finally, after days of travel, he reached the borderlands between the human world and the realm of the sea—a place where twilight lingered, where ancient stones rose from the mist, and the air was thick with enchantment. In the shadows of the rocks, he caught sight of her: the witch he had heard of. She was cloaked in dark robes, her figure partially obscured, but her gaze was piercing, as though she had been expecting him.

“You seek to bring back a lost soul,” she said before Silver even spoke. Her voice was calm but held a warning, laced with an unsettling wisdom. “A dangerous wish, young one. Life and death are not to be tampered with lightly.”

Silver’s resolve held firm. “I know it’s dangerous, but… she was taken from us too soon. I just want the chance to know her, even if it’s only once.”

The witch regarded him in silence, her expression unreadable. “To bring back a soul from beyond… it requires a great sacrifice,” she finally said. “Not in gold, not in power, but in spirit. To restore what was lost, you must be willing to give something of equal weight in return.”

“What do you mean?” Silver asked, feeling a shiver of uncertainty.

She gave him a steady look. “It will cost you a piece of yourself. Memories, perhaps, or a fragment of your own life force. To give life, something must be taken. And even then, it may not work as you hope. The dead do not always return as they were.”

Silver’s heart raced, but he nodded, his determination unwavering. “I’ll do whatever it takes.”

The witch watched him, assessing his resolve before finally nodding. She led him to a clearing at the edge of the shore, where she instructed him to gather rare herbs and light a circle of candles in the shape of the full moon.

Silver could feel the energy drain from him as the witch chanted in the language of old, his very life force spilling into the circle they had created. He closed his eyes, focusing on his mother’s face, the brief glimpses he had seen in his dreams—the gentle smile, the warmth that lingered even in a memory. He barely noticed as the witch’s voice faded, the mist thickening in front of him until it nearly obscured the world.

When he opened his eyes, she was there.

She stood just beyond the edge of the mist, her form wrapped in simple robes of soft, muted colors, somewhere between the shades of twilight and dawn. Her hair, flowing, caught the light in a gentle, silvery sheen. Silver’s heart stilled, his breath caught in his throat as he took in her familiar features—the softness of her gaze, the contours of her face that mirrored his own.

For a moment, she looked around in confusion, her brow furrowing as her gaze settled on him, lingering with a glimmer of recognition that hadn’t fully settled. She studied his face, her eyes taking in every feature as if piecing together a puzzle from fragments of memory.

Silver’s lips parted, and the word slipped out like a breath. “Mother…”

Her eyes widened, the dawning realization flooding her expression, and then, as if nothing else in the world mattered, she moved toward him. At first, a tentative step, and then, as recognition and emotion surged within her, she rushed forward, wrapping her arms around him with a force that belied her slight frame. Silver’s arms moved instinctively to hold her, his heart pounding as he felt the solid warmth of her, the reality of her presence.

They held each other for a long moment, both too overwhelmed to speak, both still trembling with the fragile wonder of what had just happened. She pulled back slightly, gazing up at him, her eyes studying every line and shadow on his face. She let out a soft, incredulous laugh, a sound both joyful and tearful.

“Silver…” she whispered, her voice filled with wonder. “You… you’ve grown so much. You’re so big now.”

Silver managed a shaky smile, barely able to contain the overwhelming surge of emotions. “I… I never thought I’d see you…”

Her hand reached up, brushing his cheek, her fingers lingering as though she was still trying to assure herself he was real. “I don’t understand how… or why… but I felt something calling me back, a longing I couldn’t ignore.” Her voice faltered, softening. “I thought I’d lost you both forever.”

Silver shook his head, his own hand moving to cover hers. “No. I had to bring you back. I had to know you—just once.” His voice broke slightly, but he didn’t care; he needed her to know the depth of his longing, the years he had wondered about her.

They shared another silent moment, just taking in the wonder of being reunited before Silver finally spoke, his voice barely above a whisper. “There’s someone who needs to see you… someone who’s missed you even more than I have.”

Her gaze brightened, and she nodded, a glimmer of emotion flickering in her eyes as she realized who he meant. “Take me to him.”

When they returned to Briar Valley, Silver led her to the castle, his heart racing with anticipation and awe. Lilia was there, his usually cheerful expression softening as he spotted Silver at the entrance. But when his gaze landed on the figure beside him, he froze.

For a heartbeat, Lilia seemed unable to comprehend what he was seeing. His eyes widened, his mouth slightly open as he took in the sight of her, standing beside Silver, alive, her eyes shining as she met his gaze.

“Lilia…” she whispered, her voice breaking as tears pooled in her eyes.

Lilia took a hesitant step forward, his composure slipping away, replaced by an expression Silver had never seen before—a vulnerability, a disbelief, and a raw, overwhelming joy. “How…?” he whispered, his voice thick with emotion.

Unable to hold back any longer, she moved toward him, her steps quickening until she wrapped her arms around him, clinging to him as if he might vanish. Lilia’s arms encircled her, holding her tightly, and a tear slipped down his cheek as he buried his face in her shoulder.

They stayed like that, the two of them locked in an embrace, their reunion marked by silent tears and whispered words of comfort and disbelief. Silver watched, a warmth filling his chest, his heart swelling with quiet happiness as he witnessed the reunion he had always longed for.

When they finally pulled back, Lilia placed a gentle hand on her face, brushing away a tear. “I thought I’d lost you forever,” he murmured, his voice thick with emotion, his eyes softened with a depth of love that Silver had never seen before.

She placed her hand over his. “You never lost me. I was always there… watching over you both.”

Lilia looked toward Silver, his gaze filled with gratitude and something else—a newfound pride, a warmth that he struggled to put into words.

‧₊˚ ☁️⋅♡𓂃 ࣪ ִֶָ☾.  BONUS!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

Silver led his mother, Y/N, through the stone corridors of the castle. She held herself with quiet grace, her steps soft, but she was clearly a bit nervous. As they approached the courtyard, Malleus and Sebek stood waiting, expressions guarded yet curious.

“Mother,” Silver began, a touch of pride in his voice, “these are my friends: Malleus Draconia and Sebek Zigvolt.”

Y/N gave a small, respectful nod, her gaze briefly meeting theirs before she glanced aside shyly. “It’s… nice to meet you both. I’ve heard a little of you on the way here.”

Malleus tilted his head, regarding her with a steady, thoughtful gaze. “It’s a pleasure to meet you as well.”

“Wait,” Sebek interjected, brows drawing together in confusion, “Silver, you… have a mother? That’s not the story Master Lilia told us…” His voice was skeptical, yet respectful.

Silver shifted slightly. “I uh…. Well, it’s complicated…”

Just then, Lilia approached, hands behind his back, giving the scene an amused glance before his gaze softened on Y/N. She caught his eye, a bit of warmth there, even if neither spoke right away.

“Lilia,” Malleus finally ventured, “perhaps you could enlighten us?”

Lilia gave a faint smirk, his tone dry. “Oh, I do seem to have forgotten a few details, haven’t I?” His eyes flicked to Y/N with a hint of warmth. “She has a habit of showing up when you least expect it.”

Y/N chuckled softly, glancing at Lilia. “Some things haven’t changed.”

Sebek was still gaping, while Malleus studied the quiet exchange between Y/N and Lilia with a thoughtful look. Lilia only shrugged, his voice nonchalant but his gaze carrying a deeper feeling as he said, “Every family has a few secrets, after all.”

Bonus 2: Y/n: Oh… You cut your hair. Lilia: Yes, I did… Did you like it longer? I’ll grow it out. Y/n: W-what? It’s okay! I love it now too. It’s cute. Lilia: I love you too–oh, I mean I love it too, yes.

[we-were-beautiful]

Unraveled Ends Chapter 2

Pre chapter Shenanigans 

a/n: Sooooo long time no post but I'm here now and that's what matters. Writers block hit me like a brick wall after my last piece that I did for the riders quadrant fic exchange back in July, that piece was only supposed to be 3k in words but ended up around 7.8k. I had been working on this chapter at the same time and had roughly 2k words but after I got through the edits on the gift fic couldn't seem to string together a coherent sentence much less moving the plot forward. all my photos for the moodboard/aesthetic come from pinterest. Last bit of info is that we did pick up two beta readers for this story( but I am always open for more if people want to hop in). So big Thanks to @loving-and-dreaming and @curse-bearing-hips for reviewing this chapter. That said we are all still human so there is more than likely some mistakes. And a huge thanks to @whisplion for inspiring me to write this fic. Hope y’all enjoy  

Summary: A tailor in the heart of Velaris finds herself mated to the two most powerful fae in Prythian. Unfortunately for her the mating bond only snapped for her, leaving her to question on how to move forward. Should she wait for her mates to feel the bond or should she go ahead and reject it and live with the gaping hole in her heart  

Poly!Feysand x Reader 

Warnings: None but there is angst

WC:3.1k

The next few weeks are nothing short of hell. I didn’t know pretending like nothing is wrong would be as exhausting as it has been. It was a never ending cycle of waking up, getting ready, going to work, and coming home. At work I was dancing a fine line of hiding everything from my seamstresses and sister and failing miserably. The only small mercy that I have had was that I haven’t had to see my mates. Thank the mother for that; I don’t know how I would have reacted to seeing them so soon after the bond had snapped. Not seeing them however did nothing to dampen the feelings that the two of them would throw down the bond unknowingly. Deep down  I know that they didn’t mean to send those memories and feelings to me, but on a good day it makes me sick to my stomach. I don’t know why it has gotten worse. I was fine for a year of burying the feelings that I have for the two down.

They were so happy together, and I don’t have a place in their perfect lifestyle. I thought that I had seen them around town a lot when they were just my customers but now it felt like every time I turned around they were there. It has increased since they came in to get their outfits for Starfall designed. I swear I ran into Rhys yesterday when I went to get lunch for myself. I ran into Feyre the other night while I was getting the groceries for my sisters and me. The two of them had actually approached me a week ago while I was at the park with my baby sister. They had little Nyx with them then and it felt like someone had taken a hold of my heart and started squeezing. The babe was adorable at two years of age. He's starting to reign terror on his parents who had apparently decided he needed to run off his energy at the park. The two of them are far more friendly with people than I would have liked, but mostly that friendliness was targeted towards me. As they joined me on the bench sandwiching me between them. They ended up chatting my ear off for the better part of an hour. There brushes of hands against my body that were too well placed to be incidental. It felt like a vice clamping down around my heart as I left the park with my sister to head home. Feyre had wanted me to stay a bit longer so that she could continue talking to me about my sketches. 

The physical interactions with them weren't the worst thing though. It was the images and emotions that the two had unknowingly sent down the bond. It wasn’t unusual to get a flash of lust from one of them at any given time of the day. It was inconvenient to just get hit with the overwhelming need for someone when I’m with clients. Late at night though I get the images. Of my mates tangled up in pleasure. Sometimes it was flashes of Feyre's face screwed up in pleasure; other of Rhys’s eyes alight with lust and desire. Those nights sleep was hard to come by. A few of those nights I found myself back in the shop working on my clients orders, anything to keep my mind from lingering on the two people that didn’t know I was bound to them.  I was surprised to be receiving so much from them down the bond given that both of them are powerful Demati. I figured that they would be skilled at keeping to themselves. 

Last night was one of those sleepless nights. It was a damn near endless barrage of want and need coming from both of them. If I hadn’t known that their mating bond had been accepted between them I would have assumed that they had accepted it last night. I left a note for my middle sister in the kitchen before heading to the shop in the dead of night. Being the night court, plenty of people were milling about the streets and shops in the palace of thread and jewels. Thankfully it isn’t one of the nights we keep the shop open for those who live under the stars, I could work in peace and not be bothered by anyone. No customers, no seamstresses, no nosy sisters, and most importantly no over friendly mates or their friends. 

It was wonderful to sit in the shop and do what I love with my shadows dancing around me. The shadows had been my friends since I was a very small faeling. They were more shy when I was out in public but when it is just me they come to life and sing. I had only seen two other people like me. One was my maternal grandfather who was from a court that had long since been lost; and the other was Azriel. Grandfather was able to teach me how to control the shadows and use them to my advantage. But he also told me to keep the gift to myself. Shadowsingers had long been coveted by the courts to be used as spies; and he and my parents were worried that the former High Lord would have conscripted me into his spy network if it was ever found out. I had successfully kept it a secret for nearly 400 years. Though times like this, when the shop is closed and I have the room to myself, I let them loose. A soft smile grows on my face as I watch the playful shadows dance about the room. A few of them try to be helpful by handing me tools and instruments that I need as I work on Feyre’s Starfall gown. 

Feyre’s dress had been coming along beautifully. She had come in for a fitting last week where we were checking the fit on the mock up. The High Lady had all but begged to have a similar fabric to my own. We had more of the fabric left; thank gods for that; the last thing I wanted to do was take a trip to the Autumn court to source more. I lose track of time working on the dress; so much so that I didn’t realize the sun had risen until I heard the lock on the door turn. 

“Sis, are you still here?” Genevieve calls out. Of course she came here. “I saw your note on the counter this morning. I dropped Itty bitty off at school and brought breakfast.” 

I sigh and set my things down to make my way out of the work room. Genevieve stands in the room looking so much like our mother; hair tied up in a worn red scarf, a dark red linen shirt and comfortable leather trousers. Ready for a day at the blacksmith. In her hands she balances a bag of what I assume is the breakfast and two cups in the other. 

“Your shadows are so helpful I’m jealous.” She passes me one of the cups and I take a sniff and immediately am greeted by the comforting scent of coffee “ Were you here all night again?” 

It's not hard to hear the concern in her voice as she takes a once over of me. 

“Yes” I responded, taking a sip of the delicious coffee that she had brought. 

“Ok what is going on with you.” She cocks her head to the side “It seems like you have been stressed this past year. Well more so than normal. This is starting to get worrisome. The number of times you have left the house in the middle of the night and worked through to morning is ridiculous.”

“What’s going on? I know it's not money since I help with the books and we have two sources of income coming in.” She takes a breath. “You can talk to me Sis.” 

“Let's go into the office. The ladies should be coming in soon.” I led her into my office not wanting to state what was going on when one of my employees could walk in. Once we are in the office I gesture for her to take a seat in front of my desk. I take a seat and my chair, bones creaking as I sit on the soft leather. She fixes me with a look telling me to start talking. 

“So I met my mates.” I sigh running a hand through my hair 

“You met your mate. That's good news right.” She starts rifling through the bag of food 

“Mates. Two of them.” She stops looking up at me 

“Two. Is that possible?” Her eyebrows nearly disappear into her hairline. 

“It is.” I lean back in my chair. “Incredibly rare but possible.” 

“So let me repeat my earlier question. That’s good news right?” 

“It’s complicated.” I bite my lower lip “The two of them are already mated. Sealed the bond and everything. But the bond only snapped for me.” 

“They don’t know.” Her voice drops in concern 

“No,they don’t.” 

“So what is stressing you out about it? You wouldn’t be leaving the house in the middle of the night over nothing?” 

“They are sending things down the bond. Images, emotions; it’s driving me crazy Gen.” 

“Shit, well can you block them out.” Mom had taught the two of us how to shield from Demati when we were younger. 

“I’ve tried; it only is able to dull it.” I fidget in my seat.  “It also doesn’t help that I keep seeing the two of them every time I go out into the city.” 

“Oh..” She hesitates “Do you mind if I ask who it is.?”  I quickly sent a few shadows out to make sure that the shop was still empty and that there were no busy bodies lurking around the shop. 

“It's the High Lord and Lady.” This was the first time I had ever said those words out loud. I guess I had thought that if I didn’t say it then I could pretend it wasn’t real and that it didn’t bother me. Gen lets out a low whistle.

“That does complicate things. I was going to tell you to grow a pair and tell them but fuck. The High Lord and Lady that… that makes things way more complex.” 

“You see why I am stressed now.” I can feel the ugly emotions filling my chest.

“Yeah, you are in the world's shittiest situation.” She lets out a sigh “It's not like you can go up to them and say hey I am your mate. Fuck I am sorry Sis.” 

I let out a wet laugh, a few tears escaped my eyes and rolled down my cheeks “ There’s nothing for you to apologize for. I just got dealt a shitty hand by the mother.” 

“Are you going to…” She trails off. I know what she was going to say though. It wasn’t something that was talked about often and not in polite company. Rejecting the bond. 

“It’s an option, and I am considering it. I want to ask a few friends of mine in Day about it first though. Since it hasn’t snapped for them they shouldn’t notice but I would like some confirmation first.” It helped that I had friends in other courts that I could gather information from; and there was no better place for information than  the Day Court.

“I will support whatever decision you make. You deserve to be happy Sis, and if your happiness is achieved by breaking the bond then do it.” 

The conversation between us dies after that as she passes me a blueberry muffin from the bag. Seems she stopped by our favorite bakery before heading over here. Time seems to fly too quickly and all too soon Gen has to leave for work leaving me here by myself. Although I’m not on my own for too much longer as my employees start trickling in.

The day seems to stretch on and on as clients make their way into the shop for fittings or to pick up their orders. The dull chatter of my employees and the various customers buzzes in my ears as I methodically pull a small needle through water-like silk. It's hard to make out any distinguishable conversation from behind my office door. Today seems like one of those days when time is just suspended and I can work in peace. There is a quiet content hum from my mates bond; one of the few times that I haven't felt heightened emotions from either of them. 

A soft knock shatters the silence of the office, effectively breaking the spell of tranquility that had fallen over me 

“Come in.” My voice cracks just a bit from not using it. The door squeaks open as a familiar head of midnight hair pokes in. Violet eyes twinkle in amusement as a smile grows across his stupidly handsome face. 

“Sweetheart!” The door swings open the rest of the way as Rhysand swaggers his way into my office like he owns it. I am quick to stand from my desk. 

“High lord.” I give him a polite curtsy, slamming my mental shields up before meeting his gaze

“How many times do I have to tell you it's Rhys?” He laughs before taking a seat in one of the leather chairs in front of my desk. “ So are you ready for my fitting or should I come back later.”  

Shit… Shit shit shit. I had completely forgotten that he was on my books for his second fitting today. It wasn’t like I was completely unprepared. No his suit was ready for the fitting but I was nowhere near mentally prepared for a fitting and not having slept the night before was going to be the actual death of me. 

“No, you are fine.” I move from behind the desk “Let me go grab your suit and we will get you out of here in no time.” 

“No need to rush, I quite enjoy your company.” I cannot afford to focus on my racing heart right now. I need to get him out of this shop as quickly as possible. I move through the back of the shop with practiced ease quickly locating the High Lord’s suit hanging neatly next to the High Lady’s gown. The two pieces were works of art in themselves that compliment each other. The suit as dark as the night sky embossed fabric giving the illusion of swirling depths. The dress flowed off the hanger like liquid moonlight, the delicate silk the identical twin to my own gown. Small gems sewn into the bodice catch and reflect the light like the stars that will make their journey across the sky on Starfall. For as much as I don’t want to care about the two, these pieces tell a different story. If I wasn’t just a little bit attached to the two of them I would have passed the designs along to another dressmaker and been done with it; but now I painstakingly designed and sewn these garments for my mates. I let out a small sigh before reaching up to grab the suite. Once I get back to my office I am quick to pass the suit off to Rhys directing him to the small changing area at the back of the office. I quickly begin to route around my desk for my supplies.  

An hour, all I have to do is make it an hour and then I will be free of Rhysand for the time being. It feels like forever before he walks out from behind the curtain. It is only years of working with Rhysand that keeps me from gasping out. If the suit was beautiful on the hanger and dress form it is absolutely stunning on the male it was made for. Rhys makes his way over to the platform and mirror in the office stepping up before moving to fuss with the cuffs. 

“This is a beautiful suit Sweetheart.” He moves to pick off the smallest piece of lint on the  collar. I move to stand behind him to begin the process of adjusting the way the suit sits on Rhysand.

We continued the song and dance that we had done for many years to get the suit to fit him perfectly. I can't help the small ache in my chest as I circle around him placing pins and chalk lines where minute alterations need to be made. Rhys is beaming the whole time chatting away like we hadn’t seen each other just the other day. I can feel the long day in my bones, my hands ache from the countless hours of work. My fingertips are raw from the amount of times I have jammed pins and needles into them. While I try to appropriately match Rhys energy, it's easy to tell that he isn’t buying the act. 

“You seem tired.” He arches a brow at me as I move to pin the hem of his pants. 

“My mates kept me up last night.” A mischievous glint grows in his violet eyes.

“Oh. They kept you up .” He teased but hidden in the back of his teasing tone seemed to be a bit of jealousy… possessiveness. 

“Yeah the two of them kept sending all of their emotions down the bond last night.” I sigh looking up at him from my spot on the floor 

“Two mates…” He stumbles with his words. He hasn’t done that since he was a teen and I was helping my father with his fitting “The mother has blessed you.” 

“Blessed or cursed.” I put the pins down. 

“Cursed.” He questions

“The bond only snapped for me.” A small sad smile grows on my face.  My mental shields are intact and stronger than ever and it's not like I can tell Rhys that he and Feyre are my mates. 

“Have you told them?” He questions, holding a hand out to help me from the floor 

“No. The two of them have already sealed the bond and have started their own perfect little family.” It feels like an Illyrian has punched me in the gut as I make this confession to him “I don’t want to ruin that for them.” 

“So what are you planning to do?” He tilts his head looking at me in sympathy “ Because you seem to have wilted these past few months. 

“I have a few things I am thinking about doing. I want to seek out a few friends in Day first before committing to it.”

“Committing to what Sweetheart?” he gazes at me with concern 

“Breaking the bond.” And as those words leave my lips you can see the color drain from his face.

Tag list: @rachelnicolee @goldenmagnolias @jesssicapanigua @sweetorangeblossom @cat-or-kitten @alowint @dream-alittlebiggerdarling @coldpeachkitten @esposadomd @araneea92 @saltedcoffeescotch @persephonesalvatore

[neteyamssock]

Not so bad, after all.

╰┈➤ PART VI.

pairing: agedup!Neteyam x Fem!Metkayina!Reader

summary: when neteyam and you met each other for the first time, they were overwhelmed with feelings they have never felt before.

word count: 2.5k

tags: violence, fighting, crying... (idk what else, please tell me if I left something out!)

a/n: unedited! rough draft straight from gdocs. i promise i'll revise this series once i finish it huhu. feedbacks is very much appreciated! thank you very much 😘💜

text divider credits to @/enchanthings

masterlist

part v | part vii (end)

It was one bright morning when you visited Ronal’s marui, seeking her out. Although the older woman was surprised that you were actively seeking her, she didn’t think too much about it and let you in. The tsahik and olo-eyktan’s marui is the largest marui in awa’atlu, the most intricate and grand, with decorations that represents the couple’s authority in the clan. You roamed your eyes inside and remembered how aonung would often say that once the two of you mated, he’d build one bigger than his parents’ marui.

Your stomach flipped at the thought. You know he doesn’t love you, but unlike you, he’s ready to settle if it means his parents would be happy.

“Why look for me, girl? Is there a bottleneck in your learning?” She beckoned you to sit in front of her, busying herself with her weaving. You didn’t fail to notice the changes in her stomach. The babe in her womb is growing, and its beginning to show in her body.

Noticing your gaze, a small smile graced her lips fleetingly before returning to her usual stoic expression. Caressing her stomach, she good-naturedly said. “You’re also going to experience pregnancy when you mate with my son. So it is good that you’re taking observations.”

You felt your throat getting blocked as you fidgeted, feeling of dread overturning your previous calm thoughts. When you didn’t respond as optimistic as she expected, Ronal’s eyes narrowed. “Why show such a look? Are you perhaps against the idea of getting pregnant right after mating? That’s fine. Both you and aonung are still young—”

“It’s not because of that, Tsahik…” you forced yourself to speak up, afraid of meeting her gaze. You saw her finally put down what she was weaving and looked at you with a scrutinizing gaze. You can feel her sharps dissecting you, trying to see through you.

“Then what? Speak up. Perhaps I could give you some solutions for whatever’s bothering you. This must be the reason you sought me out, am I right?”

You bite on your lip so hard it hurts. Your hand was clenched tight, you wanted to flee. Your resolve is crumbling bit by bit. It’s no secret that you are afraid of the Tsahik. You knew her ability, and knew what she could do. For a moment you considered backing out, but Neteyam’s face appeared in your mind, reminding you what you must do.

And you must do it now. Now, or never.

You never wanted to mate with Aonung. From the moment you learned how to think, you just saw him as a brother. It never once crossed your mind that you’d mate with him, even when your grandfather arranged you with him. Instead of facing the truth, you pretended the arrangement wasn’t real and cowardly hoped everyone would change their mind. Everyone seemed content with it, it was only you who cannot accept it.

“...I came here to express my desire to break my arrangement with Aon—”

“PREPOSTEROUS!” 

BANG!

A small stone jar broke into several pieces in front of you. One grazed your cheek, causing it to bleed. It stings, but perhaps the pain in your heart was a lot stronger. You closed your eyes when Ronal pulled you to stand up roughly.

“What are you saying now, child?! Have you lost your mind?! You cannot easily dismiss an arrangement you worked hard for so many years!”

Before you can even reply, she pushes you roughly, making you stumble a few steps back. You can no longer control your tears as the Olo-eyktan, Aonung, and Tsireya came charging in the marui.

“What is causing all these commotions, Tsahik?” With a loud thunderous voice, the olo-eyktan questioned. At this moment, everyone noticed the commotion and was watching with confused eyes. Aonung and Tsireya were looking at you and Ronal back and forth, trying to decipher what could have led to these confrontations. You cannot look them in the eye, feeling ashamed.

Ronal sneered and pointed at you, voice shrill as she said. “This foolish girl wants to break her arrangement with Aonung! An arrangement approved by great mother Eywa!”

You can hear gasps and murmurs of your clansmen, looking at you with unapproving eyes. You almost wanted to laugh. Eywa’s will? No. The great mother would not be so cruel. You are also her child, she would not force you in a loveless arrangement, would she?

In your peripherals you can see Aonung bowing his head, clenching his hands into fist. You cannot see the expression he’s making, but you know he’s furious. At you, maybe. Tsireya was trying her best to not cry, looking at you with a sympathetic gaze. It makes you feel better, giving you air to breathe. You avoided her gaze and looked back at Ronal and Tonowari with defiant eyes, even more resolute in your decision.

“Is this true, ____?” Tonowari’s jaw tightened, his gaze held disappointment and disapproval.

“Yes, Olo-eyktan. That is true.” You were surprised at how calm your voice is, the conviction in it so palpable as if you have finally found your voice after all those years of being mute.

Tonowari closed his eyes, trying to control his temper while Ronal got even more furious. “Girl, it would do you well to remember that it was your grandfather who begged us for this arrangement! How ridiculous of you to throw all that away for your nonsensical whims!”

You understand Ronal’s anger. Of course she’d be furious, all those years of preparing you to be the next Tsahik would be put to waste, and she’d start all over again. But you’re done with always thinking about others. Of putting everyone’s happiness before yours. At least at this moment, you want to be selfish. You want to choose yourself, even if it means hurting others and yourself in the process.

“Indeed, it was my grandfather who begged for this arrangement. All he wants is to make me happy, but I am not happy, Tsahik. I have finally gained confidence to say that this is not the path for me, and Eywa can bear witness. All those years I remained silent, but I can no longer do that. Not when—”

“It’s Neteyam, isn’t it? You wanted to break the arrangement because you have fallen for an outsider!”

You froze, staring wide-eyed at Aonung as he did the worst thing he could ever do in this situation. Bringing up Neteyam. You knew things would get far more complicated once Neteyam got caught in the issue. All this time you’re treading carefully, hoping not to get Neteyam involved, but Aonung just has to ruin it for you.

“That’s not—” 

“I’ll kill him!” Aonung ruthlessly pushed Tsireya away when she tried stopping him. As you were about to run after him, Tonwari pinned you at your place with just his gaze. You could only shoot Tsireya a begging look before standing back in place. Tsireya shot you a small supportive smile before running after aonung.

“You have fallen for the Sully boy? Don’t try to lie, child. I have watched you grow up, like you’re my own child. So you must tell us the truth.”

“ABSURD! I knew taking in that fam—”

“Tsahik you must calm down, you are with a child.”

Ronal scoffed, turning around in anger. She refused to look at you. Perhaps too disappointed to even spare you a glance. 

You have no choice but to admit it. “Yes. I wish to be with Neteyam, but it is not the only reason why I want to dismiss the arrangement. I do not see Aonung as anything more than a brother. It would be unfair for Aonung if I force myself into this arrangement without my heart in it.”

“My son is will be an excellent man, I'm sure you'll learn to adore him when he becomes a man. You—”

“My decision is final. Begging the Olo-eyktan and Tsahik to consider my plea.”

Tonowari regarded you with a searching gaze. He had always known you as silent, reserved, and obedient. Someone who would immediately follow orders in silence. At this moment, he’s seeing you in a new light. Seeing your determination and sincerity, he waved his hand. “Are you certain of this, _____? Once you let go, you can never get it back.”

You smiled, appreciating Tonowari’s care for you, but you don’t want to go back. Not when freedom is near, almost within your grasp. “I am certain, Olo-eyktan. I will stand by my choice until the end.”

Ronal sneered at your words, glancing at Tonowari, telling him to wake you up from your delusions, but Tonowari avoided her gaze. Instead, he said to you, “I’ll give you an answer soon, but you must tell your grandfather of your plan yourself.”

“Tonowari!” Ronal shrieked, but Tonowari only motioned you to leave as he said. “Leave us, I’ll talk to the Tsahik.”

So you did. With your heart singing in joy, you ran towards Neteyam’s marui, only for your excitement to turn into horror as you saw Aonung being held back by others and Neteyam standing in front of him with bleeding lips.

“You!” Aonung’s furious shout immediately caught everyone’s attention. He was heaving, anger so palpable that everyone quickly backed away from him, afraid of attracting his ire.

Neteyam was standing in front of their marui when he saw Aonung charging at him with a furious expression. His eyes narrowed and was about to ask what’s his problem when Aonung approached him and...

SMACK!

“Woah woah woah! What are you doing?!?”

Jake immediately pulled Neteyam behind his back as Neteyam’s ears buzzed, cheek and the corner of his lips stinging. Aonung had slapped him hard enough for his head to turn. Hearing the commotion, Neytiri, Kiri, Lo’ak and Tuk had also emerged from the marui, standing behind Jake and Neteyam with sharp eyes. Seeing Neteyam’s bloodied lips, Neytiri hissed at Aonung. 

“You fish  lips! How dare you hurt my brother!” Lo’ak angrily shouted, planning to teach Aonung another lesson when Neteyam pulled him back. Although unwilling, Lo’ak shook his head and glared at Aonung as he stepped back. 

Neteyam gave his mother a glance, telling her he’s fine and he can handle it. Although worried, Neytiri took a step back and took Kiri and Tuk’s hand into hers,  allowing Jake and Neteyam to take control of the situation. 

It is clear to Neteyam what that slap meant. The reason why Aonung is so mad at him, as if ready to murder him any second. It was your face that appeared in Neteyam’s mind, your promise to him in your secret place. He closed his eyes and let out a laugh, joy filling his heart instead of anger. The pain in his cheek faded. It’s all worth it, because Aonung’s presence here only means you have made your move and fulfilled your promise to him. 

Neteyam’s laughter seems to provoke Aonung as he begins cursing, trying to hit Neteyam. Jake on the other hand looked at his oldest son, incredulous. Did he just laugh after getting slapped?

“This is between me and your son, Toruk Makto! He must fight me!”

“Dad, let me handle this. This is something I must do.”

Jake’s jaw tightened, when Neteyam motioned for him to step back, he hesitated. Neteyam had to urge him again before he stepped away, still worried about Neteyam. 

Neteyam stood face to face with Aonung, chin held high as he regarded that other man, not afraid to meet his furious eyes. “Let’s talk, brother.”

“I am not your brother!” Aonung hissed as he delivered another slap, but Neteyam dodged it easily. Seeing him unscathed, Aonung launched another hit but Tsireya had also arrived, pulling Aonung back with all her strength. “Aonung, stop! You must not resort to violence!”

“Let go sister! I must teach this kurkung a lesson!”

Tsireya cried out when Aonung accidentally elbowed her. Lo’ak seeing his girl being hurt, almost went forward again, but was glared at by his mother. Seeing Tsireya struggling, their clansmen finally regained their senses and held the flailing metkayina successor. Aonung hissed angrily at his captors, regretting that he lost focus a moment for hurting his beloved sister.

Finally held down, Aonung was no longer flailing as hard as before, but was still glaring daggers at Neteyam. The latter merely wiped his lips with his hand, not caring about the sting, seemingly in cloud nine.

“Tell us boy, what is the reason for your anger? What did my son do to get such a reaction from you?” Neytiri’s ears were pinned back, tail swishing side by side. She's displeased that her son got hurt when they didn't even have a clear idea of what warranted that slap. 

Aonung huffed, pointing at Neteyam with a vicious snarl. “He stole my mate! He stole ______ from me!”

Silence. For a moment, the breeze and the waves are the only noises that can be heard, before everyone breaks into a myriad of reactions. Jake closed his eyes as he groaned, feeling a headache coming. Neytiri merely sighed, having been aware of her son’s relations with you. Kiri muttered up a few “what the fuck”, Lo’ak nudging his brother with a triumphant grin, and Tuk who looked a bit confused.

Neteyam cleared his throat. “Aonung, calm down and listen to me. She’s not your mate yet. You haven’t made tsaheylu before Eywa. She also told me that you do not desire each other, and are merely fulfilling your duties to the clan. Now that she wants to dismiss the arrangement, you must respect her ideas. Whether it's me, or any other man, you must allow her to choose.”

Aonung sneered,  shaking his head as he started laughing uncontrollably. Tears began falling from his eyes as he stared at the sky. Whispering he said, “What does she even know about what I feel for her? She knows nothing! You hear me? She knows nothing!”

At this moment, Neteyam’s chest tightened. A sense of foreboding from the depths of his mind. His doubts that he tried to deny began surfacing again. “What do you mean by that?”

Before Aonung could say anything, you came running towards Neteyam’s side, shaking as you examined him all over. When you saw the bruise on his face, the tears you have been trying to control fell freely. Pain eroded your heart as traced his wounds with your fingers.

Seeing you, the panic in Neteyam's heart settled. He held you close in relief as he said, “I’m fine, ocean girl. Do not cry, for it makes me want to cry too. Shush, I’m fine.”

Looking at his solemn eyes, you nodded and took a deep breath. You wiped your tears and turned towards Aonung. He wasn’t looking at you, tears still falling from his eyes. It hurts you to see him like this, for Aonung has never shed tears all his life. You hurt him. You betrayed his trust, broke the promise the two of you made. 

But it must be done.

Walking towards him, you took his hands and held them tightly. It made him look at you, but you cannot read his eyes. “Aonung, I know what I did is something that cannot be easily forgiven. I threw all the grace that you and your family had given me, but I know in my heart that I do not regret what I did, and will never regret it for the rest of my life. I just want you to understand.”

He stared at you for a long while, taking in your features. You looked at him with pleading eyes, hoping he’d understand where you are coming from. 

“You’re so selfish, ______.”

“I’m sorry, Aonung. I truly am.”

“I do not need your apologies, _______. A broken trust cannot be mended by simple apologies.”

Wrenching his hands from your grasp, he pushed everyone away, not once does he ever look back. You stared at his back and sobbed as Neteyam took you in his arms silently, warm hands cupping your face as he wiped your tears with his thumbs.

“Hush now, ocean girl. We're still far from being done. You still have to face my family.” He teased, smiling at you as he pressed a kiss on your forehead. 

“Shut up, skxawng. I’m having a moment and you ruined it.”

Laughing, he shrugged. “I can’t just watch a pretty girl cry y’know? Makes me want to cry too.”

A/N: screaming crying punching kicking— ahhhhh last chapter remaining! this series has a lot of holes i have to mend after i finish the last chapter. but it's a rough draft so it's expected. anyways, feedback is very much appreciated! thank you very much, mwah!

[hausofanya]

“i think we’ve found our first guest…”

cléo beckons the camera to follow her as she makes her way towards the first artist that catches her eye, tapping on her shoulder with a soft smile. “i thought i recognized you… say hi to the camera!”

the idol turns towards the camera with a smile of her own as she waves briefly. cléo adds on cheekily before pointing the mic towards her, “and who do i have the pleasure of speaking to tonight?”

“hi! i’m honey.b, but most people know me as honey of blackpink!” honey offers yet another charming smile, easily capturing the hearts of all the viewers watching.

“every blink and honeyboo at home must be going ballistic right now… you’re the first person i get to interview.” the two share an amused look before she continues. “and speaking of going ballistic.. i have to know what you’re wearing. you look good.”

“you know i had to go all out, cléo! my dress is from valentino who gracefully sent me this beautiful rose dress!” the camera moves from cléo to fully show off honey’s gorgeous dress as the idol continues to speak. “perks of being their brand ambassador, i guess!”

“you ‘guess’?” honey merely offers a sly shrug as cléo squints at her teasingly. “hm… i’ll let that slide this time.”

the camera shifting back to put both of them in frame, cléo continues on. “this might be just because i’m nosy, but what are three things you absolutely cannot live without?”

“hmmm… this one is hard, there are so many things i love.” cléo nods in agreement. “i would probably say my fans since i can’t exist without being the center of attention, snacks cause it’s the only way i’m gonna get through tonight, and—leaving the best to last, money. you know they do say money can't buy happiness, but my heart has to disagree.”

“diamonds may be a girl’s best friend, but money is also definitely a big contender. solid answers, mhm. next, let’s hear about the most insane thing to happen to you this year. it’s been a hectic one, hasn’t it?” honey laughs as cléo beckons the camera closer as if being let in on a secret. “i’m serious! inquiring minds are wondering!”

“well, i did have dispatch come for me earlier this year claiming i was dating a man during women's history month.” cléo’s lips part in dismay as the shorter shakes her head. “of all the months they could have posted it, they really chose to do me dirty. it was quite embarrassing but i did gain some more eyes on me because of it, so i cannot completely complain.”

honey then lets out a sigh, “it’s just the paparazzi that follow me everywhere like a hawk. but it’s not something i am not used to being in blackpink.”

cléo mumbles something about degenerate people something something and honey lets out another laugh, a hand flying up to her mouth. the noirette merely sends the camera a serene smile and trudges on as if she hadn’t said a thing.

“kudos to you, truly. you deserve a vacation. but before i let you go, i’ve got just a few more questions—just like this one: how do you feel about any of the nominees? the public is dying to know.”

“i don’t wanna yuck anyones yum but there were some artists i definitely was sad to not see. i definitely think they deserved some loving, too.. 2024 has been a hard year for us all.”

cléo’s expression turns sympathetic, turning to address the camera. “a sweetheart, truly. what about the weirdest thing a fan has ever done to or for you to get your attention? fans can be so cute… until they’re not.”

honey’s expression brightens, which immediately has cléo intrigued. “what a story do i have for you, cléo! for like a few months after my hit song espresso came out, i would wake up everyday—and there would my go-to-order that i have never shared publicly on my doorstep.”

cléo balks, her brows raised in disbelief. “they found your address?”

“—and me being silly, i thought it was something cute my boyfriend was doing. but in the end it turns out i was drinking potentially poisoned coffee for a while.” honey turns to the camera as cléo just stares. “just a little friendly reminder to plug in our braincells unlike i did!”

the recanted experience seems to really stop cléo in her tracks, blinking slowly before she blurts out the first thing that comes to mind—“twins!” she then lets out a mortified laugh as honey’s own laugh comes out choked, fighting off one of her own as the host squares her shoulders.

“i guess i’m paying for our therapy bills. moving on! what’s the weirdest thing you’ve ever googled? even on incognito.”

“maybe not so weird but kind of funny.. after my album, love honey, came out, i was looking it up on google to see what critics were thinking! but i guess my team didn’t do their research when naming the album cause the first thing that popped up was a very adult business if you get what i mean.”

cléo has to fully walk out of view to process the news as honey laughs again, helplessly shrugging at the camera as cléo slowly appears back into view. “maybe… i shouldn’t have asked that. oh my god… okay, next question! what’s your dream role? any role!”

“i am gonna say it. i think it is about time we bring back the early 2000s rom-coms.” a staff member can be heard adamantly agreeing before quickly covering their mouth, making the girls laugh.

“i basically lived off how to lose a guy in 10 days when i was a kid! so my dream role would definitely be like an it-girl character that everyone falls for in a rom-com, not very different my actual life though.”

“and we would all tune in, i can tell you that.” cléo points at the camera as if to say you too. “last question. anyone.. special in your life?”

“well like, legally—” cléo raises a brow already, “—my company won’t let me comment on my love life, but there were these dating rumours that i was dating a seventeen member. i think that company confirmed it, but still my lips are locked.”

“well, as long as it’s not, like. kim mingyu, i think you’ll be fine.” cléo’s grin at the camera is as menacing as it can get as laughter sounds behind her. “i’m serious! i’ve seen many a deranged tweet. i’d be scared for my life. but thank you for indulging me! you’re a saint.”

cléo smiles sweetly as honey steps away from the camera with yet another wave, waving goodbye herself as she wishes her a good rest of her night. then to the camera, she tacks on a—

“on to the next!”

you can find honey at @pinkshaus ! thanks so much for joining the event !

[cutehoons02]

PRINCESS YOU ARE MINE

* pairing: Heeseung x reader (grumpy x sunshine) (she fell first he fell harder)

* tags: fluffy,kiss,a little smut,misunderstandings

* synopsis: Heeseung couldn’t fall in love with her stylist and her stylist couldn’t fall in love with an idol but the heart doesn’t rule

* word count: 2k (Tell me if you like this kind of stories:)

© cutehoons02 all rights reserved 2024.

(English is not my native language)

Thunder rumbled through the apartment you shared with your college friends in Seoul and before you could close the windows a heavy rain came across Seoul you knew it was time to go to bed, and that your boyfriend, you could call a boyfriend a guy with whom you made a lot of video calls after his concerts, with whom you shared a good hot plate of ramen in the restaurant near Han riven, you wore secretly his sweatshirts at work with still imprinted his strong smell of freshly made laundry but with a note of spices; he would not show up at your house. Yes, you could define the word "boyfriend" but Heeseung had never called you his "girlfriend", and then with the life of Idol you were terrified that this was for Heeseung only a small infatuation with the shy stylist of Enhypen.

The flight from Japan had been delayed by the heavy thunderstorm that hit Korea in those days and Heeseung was eager to escape from that plane and sink into the hot blankets of Y/n which tasted like cinnamon and vanilla, the leader of the Enhypen laughed at seeing the older member so madly leaving the airport and Heeseung gave him a mean look <<You know i’m happy to see you finally in love with someone makes come out in you a Heeseung that i had never seen in my life, you look just like a baby deer just came out of the Disney when you talk or see Y/n, but try to pretend you care about the fans outside!">> "stop Jungwon, i’m not in love with Y/n. We’re just two people who like to spend time together when we are not busy between trips, concerts, events, or shooting." <<At my house this behavior is called "friendship" but we all know that you are not only friends, if one of the other members tried to hit on her you would explode with jealousy or if one of the other dancers who accompany us during the tours ask her out what would you do? And by the way, you deceived yourself because you said that you are not friends but two people who spend time together..>> Heeseung hated when his smaller members made him see the reality of things, and one in particular was Jungwon; many underestimated their friendship because they expected to see him as the leader of the group but he and Jungwon had developed a strong bond over time that was the first to notice Heeseung’s strong interest in Y/n.

Heeseung had just gotten out of the taxi and little drops of rain fell in his hair with a loud puff. It looked like it was almost one o'clock at night. Maybe it was late enough to play at Y/n’s apartment so he decided to throw some small stones in the window of Y/n looking out onto the street, was at the fifth pebble that he threw and was getting a little too wet for his taste until he saw the curly hair and the head of Y/ n sticking out of the window. He walked into the foyer of the apartment and to her great astonishment saw Y/n dressed in a jacket, with jeans a little soaked, and with hair a bit swollen because of the humidity.

<<Angel, what are you doing up at this hour? Don’t tell me you were waiting for your favorite member of the Enhypen like a princess waiting for her prince because we all know i can’t act like a prince when you’re around.>> A small laugh came out of the mouth of Y/n and showed Heeseung that he had in hand a small bag from the pharmacy. "Heeseung if i expected you as a prince at this time i would still be full of pain because of the menstruation, i'm awake because even with bad weather i went to get some medicines that ended up alleviating the pain in my stomach cramps, but you princes can’t understand the suffering we have in the early days and i wasn’t waiting for you, i have more to do than wait for an idol to come and visit me when he’s free" He didn't expect this statement because between the two was the one who preferred to listen and you were never angry with him so a little surprised, and maybe they were true all those times that he heard the other members say their sisters were hyenas while they had the red period.

The thunder was rumbling through the kitchen where Y/n was preparing a good hot tea for both her and Heeseung, she would never have expected to see him outside after a trip of almost 10 days in Japan, was grateful not to have gone with them because she was seriously tired after all the trips they had made during the summer and sometimes she even preferred to break away from Enhypen especially from Heeseung to go and be a stylist in other Hybe groups. Heard the steps of Heeseung entering the kitchen with dry hair and a little uncomplicated because of the hairdryer, With an oversized t-shirt and grey track pants that wrapped her nice long legs and not to mention her b side but Y/n turned around and went back to sip his tea and take his medicine. The kitchen in his apartment looked much smaller and warmer with Heeseung in front of him but he didn’t want to be overwhelmed by the little feelings he had for the boy who had his eyes like a deer.

Heeseung was eager to feel the touch Y/ n and at the same time saw how much force of will tried to make the girl with curly hair/wavy in front of him, so without thinking a moment took Y/n by the hand and brought her into his room and if he put it on his legs, the warm bed and the little cinnamon candle was the bridge between their world and the storm that was outside. <<Tell me what you want from me, i just came back from a hellish trip and every hour that i spent on the plane to get to Seoul I sang silently of happiness to see you but now i found you here with this look that you would want to kill me with your hands.>> Y/n felt pathetic because every time she saw Heeseung she needed to see him for a second, breathe his pungent scent that came from her skin, or even worse be drugged by his touch and his voice. "In these ten days you’ve been away I wouldn’t have expected to miss you, at first i thought you were only good at flirting with everyone especially me but then you showed up in my house with ramen to share, and for my bad luck after you started kissing me before a show with the fear and the thrill that they would find us; besides, you’re cruel because if they found out you wouldn’t have any repercussions because you are Lee Heeseung instead of any stylist who can fire at any moment."

Heeseung looked bad and a slight smirk formed in his lips <<Well if you were afraid that they would discover it was enough to tell me that you did not want to kiss me or could use these beautiful hands to push me away, but your problem is that you seem so good and sweet girl with everyone who loves having my dirty marks under your skirt or near your breast. Don’t pretend to be innocent with me because we both know you love the adrenaline that goes up while i kiss you with the people waiting to send you inside another member to change so they can show up in time to sing a new song.>>

Heeseung’s long fingers made their way under your sweatshirt and little chills hit your body <<No other boy can make you experience this princess, remember only i can hold you in my arms, at the same time adore you and give you what your body needs.>> one hand slid into your life and the other began to tease your right breast and a moan came out of your lips, you were seriously in need of more so he brushed you a little further down until you felt his length pressed between your legs. <<Princess fuck your breasts are so hard and firm that i’m afraid to hurt you but i can’t stop myself, tell me if you want it to continue>> Heeseung moved his hand from your waist to pull back some curly/waves that fell in your forehead to your ear and finally Heeseung felt your lips after more than 10 days in her ears, and to tease him you kissed him slowly and slowly bit his lower lip to hear him moaning. You wanted to be in control of the situation but by your misfortune you needed his touch so much and knew he couldn’t give you all himself, so Heeseung turned the situation around and put you between your pillows <<Where is the shy girl i met at work who tries so hard not to be seen watching me dance and sing, stop thinking you’re gonna control the situation, you only needed my fingers on your body to get you shivers who knows how you’ll react to all the things i’ll do to you when you don’t have your period, princess!>> You felt take off your pajamas and Heeseung looked at you with a look that you had never seen on his face, was adoration of your body but at the same time hunger, and surely you were not ready to know all the dirty visions he had of you. <<Tell me what you want or i can stay watching you all night long" you needed her lips from all over your body and pulled her fluffy hair to your thighs but she stopped to look at you with a grin.>> "Stop being a jerk like Hee, i need you to kiss me for everything and we know that even you can’t take my eyes off me" Little kisses mixed with bites made their way between your thighs and with great pleasure you heard the boy moaning with deer eyes while you pulled his black locks to limit your groans. <<Groan for me princess, make everyone feel who can only make you react with only me kissing you and leaving bites in your thighs>> Groans came out of your mouth until you felt the weight of Hee’s body in front of you and bent down to kiss your lips, He brought your body over his chest and little kisses made their way between your head and your head <<What goes in your tiny head Y/n, i see your gears spinning very strong right now!>> You took her glue as an antistress and a little grumble formed in Heeseung’s smile "What are we? in the sense that you say i'm yours, but what are you to me Hee, for me certainly you are not a friend and we are not even two people who find themselves spending time together because these things are done by friends” you lifted from his chest and his big arms strapped your hips <<Did you and Jungwon agree to drive me crazy today>> You watched him laughing and he stood to kiss your forehead <<I was yours from the first moment i saw you Y/n>>.

[jerzwriter]

Thanks to @liaromancewriter for sending this prompt for Ethan x Kaycee: "I love you, I swear I do, but we're not wearing matching costumes." I swear I wanted to have this done by Halloween, but things just didn't go as planned! lol

Book: Open Heart Pairing: Ethan Ramsey x Kaycee MacClennan (F!MC) Rating: Teen Words: 968 Summary: Halloween snuck up on Kaycee this year, but she still wants to make it memorable. But will her "secret" boyfriend comply?

A/N: Participating in @choicesmonthlychallengenov2024 - holidays

Everyone has a favorite holiday, and Kaycee’s was Halloween. Each year, she’d spend countless hours deciding upon and creating the perfect costume. But this year was different than most. Being a medical resident was chaotic and by the time she realized Halloween was upon them, she only had two days to put together a memorable costume. She was not happy.

Ethan wasn’t happy, either. After all, seeing his girlfriend upset brought him no pleasure, but he was able to find a silver lining in the dilemma. Even though their relationship was still a secret to most, he knew Kaycee would have still tried to wrangle him into a couple’s costume. But now, with only a couple days to spare, he was confident he found a reprieve. His fear of dressing up as Mickey and Minnie, Morticia and Gomez, or peanut butter and jelly was put to rest

His doorbell rang, and Ethan rushed to answer, finding a delighted Kaycee beaming from ear to ear. She kissed his cheek and buoyantly stepped into the foyer, her arms loaded down with shopping bags.

“You managed to do this much damage in just two hours?” Ethan asked, eyeing the bags.

“Mm-hmm,” she smirked. “You, of all people, should know that I always get what I want.”

“There’s no denying that,” he agreed, looping his arms around her waist. “Did you manage to put a costume together?”

“I did, but I had to go simple,” she sighed removing a pair of black spandex tights and red stiletto heels from a bag. “I’m going to be Sandy from Grease.”

“Really,” Ethan grinned, recalling the crush he had on that very character during his early teens. “You may have to model that costume for me in advance.”

“Why? So it ends up in tatters," she laughed. "No chance, Ramsey!”  

They were setting the table for dinner when Kaycee crushed Ethan’s hopes in another way. “Now, we have to work on your costume,” she grinned.

“My costume?” He froze in place. “I think we can skip that.”

“Oh, no, we're not!” she replied. “You need a costume, Ethan! Having fun will keep you youthful. And this year, you’re going to be Danny Zuko!”

“Danny Zuko?”

“Yeah, from Grease!”

“I’m aware he’s from Grease, Kaycee. But are you forgetting, only a handfull of people know we're dating. A couple's costume wouldn't be the best idea.”

“But that’s what makes it so cute,” she insisted. “We're not arriving at Donahue’s together, so it will look like a coincidence! Then, we'll have an adorable story later on once everyone knows."

He shook his head with a grimace. “Kaycee, I love you. I swear I do. But we are not wearing matching costumes.”

“Why not?” she pouted.

“Because in all my years in Boston, I have had one costume and one alone...a curmudgeonly, sarcastic physician. If I show up as anything else, it will be suspect.”  

Kaycee rolled her eyes. “You won’t dress up? Not even for me?”

“I think we just covered that,” he deadpanned.

“Fine, Dr. Crumudgeon! Have your way,” she sighed. “But I’m still going as Sandy.”

When Halloween arrived, Kaycee sauntered into Donahue’s, looking like the perfect 1950s bombshell. She twirled a lock of blonde hair around her finger as she scanned the room, expecting to see Ethan perched on his usual stool wearing his old grey cardigan as he nursed a Scotch.

But then, she saw him. He leaned against the bar, wearing a fitted pair of blue jeans, a classic white T, and a black leather jacket. The casual observer may not have recognized it as a costume at all, but Kaycee knew, and her heart began to flutter.

She rushed to his side, a small smirk lifting one corner of her mouth. “Danny Zuko, I presume?”

Ethan's eyes met hers, and a warm smile was shared between them. "Look, I wasn’t about to wear a T-Bird jacket or brush my hair into a pompadour. But this was simple enough, and I needed a new leather jacket, anyway.”

“Uh-huh,” Kaycee replied, her eyes sparkling. “Sure you did."

She didn’t thank him; she didn’t have to. Her face was radiating pure joy, and Ethan stared back with a stupid grin. Life was sure different with Dr. Kaycee MacClennan in his life, but it was different in a very good way.

Eventually, some of their coworkers noticed the matching costumes and rushed to surround them, eager to know if the rumors they had been hearing were true.

“I knew you two were a thing!” Nurse Sarah squealed. “A couple’s costume is the perfect way to announce you’re, well, a couple!”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about, Sarah,” Ethan said nonchalantly after putting down his Scotch. “I’m James Dean. I was just telling Kaycee I’ve never even seen Grease.”

“Never seen Grease!” Harper shot back. “When we were dating, you told me you had a huge crush on Olivia Newton-John after seeing her play Sandy.”

“Oh, is that so,” Kaycee teased. “Well, Ethan, I’m pretty sure James Dean was Danny Zuko’s inspiration anyway. So we could technically enter the couple’s costume contest if you want, that is."

“What’s the prize?” he asked.

Kaycee looked around to make sure no one was in earshot, then leaned over and whispered in his ear. “The prize is my costume scattered across your bedroom floor later this evening. I'm sure you'd be pleased.”

Ethan downed his drink in one gulp. “Then, by all means. Where do we go to sign up?"

"Follow me!" Kaycee grinned.

Harper and Sarah exchanged knowing looks as the two walked away.

“Do they really think they’re fooling anyone?” Sarah asked.

"Let them have their fun," Harper shrugged. “But if they think they're fooling us, then neither of them is as bright as we think."

@choicesficwriterscreations @openheartfanfics

[schmweed]

Succession | S02E02

[princess-from-another-galaxy]

My wilmon shipper heart, right now:

My August/Sara shipper heart, right now:

[cosmic-ships]

I wish I could turn off the recommendation blog feature. 5 in a ROW were of Kylo and ugh ....her.

Just stick forks in my eyes please. It would be an improvement.

Nothing like waking up to vent! lol killme