#or maybe it’s just fixed in place like the second image but the heart is still visible if you look behind it

[shrenvents]

hii can you do some dean smut, maybe he and reader meet in a dive bar or sum?? <3

a/n: sure thing, i hope u like 😉😘

Mind Games

Warnings: Minors dni; Smut, v!penetration (protection used), language, fingering, some fluff, some jealousy

Pairing: Dean Winchester x you

Summary: You and Sam go way back. You and Dean as well, though he has no recollection of it, and for that, you make him pay.

Word Count: 4.1 k

...

The night had been long already when Sam texted you—“Hey, I'm in town. Drinks at Murphy's?”—but you didn’t hesitate to answer yes. It had been quite some time since you’d last seen him, and life had a funny way of pulling people apart after high school, though you and Sam tried to stay in touch here and there.

It hurt when he unexpectedly dropped out of school without explaining why, but thankfully he reconnected down the line, and the rest was history. He was just an easy friend, a good one you could pick up things with even after years of silence.

A dive bar wasn’t exactly your first choice. You preferred places with brighter lighting and cleaner, less sticky floors, without an old jukebox playing songs that were a hit, long before any patrons could remember. But Sam seemed to have a soft spot for them. It suited him, really—the unpretentious atmosphere, the cheap drinks. 

As you stepped past the creaky door, the scent of stale beer and cigarettes hit you like a wave of nostalgia. It reminded you of late nights sneaking into bars with Sam when you were underage, laughing too loud, worrying too little. The memory still made you smile.

You quickly spotted Sam, his broad frame hunched over a small booth in the corner, beer in hand. He looked up, eyes twinkling when he saw you, enthusiastically calling your name. Mid-wave, you froze and your heart skipped a beat after noticing who was sitting across from him —Dean. Sam’s older brother. 

Dean leaned back in his chair, lazily nursing a beer and his signature, cocky smirk as his eyes coasted his surroundings. He looked exactly the same, though his face was a little more rugged, and perhaps a little worn from life.

You’d had a ridiculous crush on Dean back in school. Your best friend's older brother. The guy who could make anyone laugh, who strode around like the world was his oyster. But he never noticed you. Not back then. Dean was too busy sleeping around, charming his way through the female student body, and leaving an abundance of broken hearts in his wake. The few times you were around him, he rarely glanced in your direction. And that was fine. Especially now, since you’ve grown up and moved on…

'Of course he's here,' you thought with an internal roll of your eyes, trying to steel yourself for the sudden rush of old, pitiful memories of unrequited love. You should've guessed he'd be here since Sam told you they'd hit the road together.

With a deep breath, you straightened out your shoulders and paced over, mustering all your strength to fix a calm smile onto your face as you greeted Sam, and his brother, who most likely wouldn’t really know you. "Long time no see," Sam remarked, standing to give you a bear hug, which you immediately returned. “Missed you."

"Missed you too," you replied with a pleased sigh. Your eyes then flickered to Dean for the briefest moment. He hadn’t moved, still reclined in his seat, watching you both with that curious tilt of his head. His silence stretched on long enough that it was clear—he didn’t recognize you.

'Typical,' you thought, and your smile tightened into a thin line as you slid into the booth. Ignoring the way Dean’s gaze dwindled, you decided two could play this game. It might be fun, even.

"Dean, you remember her now, don't you?" Sam asked, oblivious to the tension looming in the air as he gestured to you, hoping the in-person image would jog his memory.

Dean’s brows furrowed, and for a second, you swore you saw something flash behind his forest-coloured eyes. Then, as if he’d decided it wasn’t worth pretending, he shook his head, offering you a half-smile. You dismissed the swarming butterflies in your stomach, realizing this might just be the first time he's truly looked at you. And you’ve seen that look countless times from afar —it was the one he showed to the next girl he'd pick up.

"Sorry," Dean huffed dramatically, feigning disappointment having not remembered you. His voice was a low rumble that made your pulse quicken against your will. "Can’t say I do."

And there it was. Just as you expected. You’d spent countless afternoons back in high school, hanging out with Sam, romanticizing his older brother from the sidelines, praying he’d eventually give you the time of day. But Dean Winchester has always been… Well, Dean Winchester. And he always will be.

You leaned back in your seat, crossing your arms with a smirk of your own, mimicking his relaxed demeanour. "Don’t worry about it. It’s been a while." Dean’s eyes narrowed momentarily, like he knew he’d missed something important, but had no clue what. Sam, ever the peacemaker, cut in with a laugh.

“Well, now that that's settled, drinks are on us. Let’s catch up.” Sam pushed a beer towards you and you downed nearly half, already determined to show that tonight, you weren't gonna be that quiet, shy, unnoticeable girl you were in school. If Dean noticed you now, he was in for one hell of a ride…

You and Sam probably spoke for less than an hour, because, unfortunately for Sam, he could barely get a word in with all of Dean's shameless flirting, which you somewhat entertained. Undoubtedly, neglecting him only egged him on more.

Throughout the night, after Sam gave up and wandered elsewhere, drunk and confused, Dean would make bold throwaway comments, steal lingering glances, and release that low chuckle every time you defiantly teased him. At first, it was satisfying—this was the guy you used to dream about noticing you, and now he couldn’t take his eyes off you. But as the hours ticked by, you recalled all too well who Dean really was: a player. A guy who’d probably seen countless women come and go without a second thought. However, now, with him slowly inching towards you, it was becoming increasingly difficult to disregard the urge to go home with him to spare your dignity.

The second the ragged surface of his jeans started grazing your thigh, you excused yourself to get another drink. Strutting over to the bar, you felt his eyes bore into your backside and a shiver racked down your spine. Rather dizzyly, you ordered another drink but were surprised when a tall stranger offered to pay for it. Despite the unwanted attention, with Dean eyeing you both, you selected to make this stranger an outlet for a potential mistake.

So just for show, you leaned in a little too close, laughing at jokes that weren’t funny, ambling with your drink as if you were reluctant to return to Dean. His gaze was burning holes into the man's head the entire time, and you knew this was doing wonders to Dean's inflated ego. 

Then you heard a loud thud behind you, and just as you turned around, Dean was already there, standing close by, staring daggers into the stranger you ironically couldn't remember the name of. Dean then glanced down at you, wordlessly demanding eye contact, and you're rooted to the floor when his hand brazenly brushes across your lower back, to rest comfortably on your hip. "Hey," he smiled as his gaze softened, marking the smooth return of his playboy facade.

"How about we get outta here?" Dean whispered into your ear while his nose skimmed your hair. Subtly taking a deep breath, you seductively beam up at him and note how his grip tightened on your side as if he had to brace himself. "Exactly what I was thinking," you whispered back and Dean's eyes fluttered, and you're so close he likely thinks you're about to kiss, but you have other plans.

"Wanna go?" You asked the man you nearly forgot about, who seems almost as stunned as you sense Dean is. He takes a sharp intake of breath at his rejection, virtually staggering back from you, and the moment his hand lifts from your hot flesh, you slip away and grab the stranger's forearm, swiftly hauling him outside with you, without looking back. As you left, you waved goodbye to Sam. "I'll call you tomorrow," you said with an energetic wink, unable to conceal how giddy you were.

After your dramatic exit, you made it clear to the poor stranger that you had no intention of taking things any further than a walk to your car. But Dean didn’t know that. 

…

The very next day, you made more plans with Sam to make up for yesterday's turn of events, but Dean was relentless. For that whole week in fact. He obviously forced Sam to give him your number, and since then, there have been numerous texts, calls, and unexpected visits. Each time he found you, his approach became more serious, more focused, and still, you’d reject him every time, in a rather absentminded way, which drove him mad. You grew to love the way it made him squirm.

Today was one of those days, at a quiet little bar far from the one you met at, the conversation quickly turned south from the usual banter.

He’d barely sat down before that trademark smirk was back. His green eyes glinted as he leaned forward, resting his arms on the table between you, his fingers grazing yours. The touch was subtle, but deliberate—like he was testing the waters. You pulled your hand back just a fraction, enough for him to notice but not enough to discourage him. You were growing unsure of who you were punishing at this point.

"Missed me?" Dean's voice was deep, smooth, and far too confident for someone who’d been chasing you all week and failing miserably. You rolled your eyes playfully and took a sip of your drink. "Don’t flatter yourself. I just wanted to get a quiet drink," you quipped. Dean chuckled, undeterred, shaking his head. "Right, right. That’s why you agreed to meet me here. For a ‘quiet' drink." His voice dripped with mischievous sarcasm, and an undertone of sexual frustration.

You couldn’t help but grin. "Keep telling yourself that if it makes you feel better." You crossed your legs and kicked out one, lightly touching Dean's, and he tensed. He then closed in, his fingers gently touching the back of your hand, this time pausing just long enough to send a quake up your arm. "You like to keep me guessing, don’t you?" He wet his lips, eyes darting to yours, which were shrivelling up with anticipation.

"Maybe," you admitted with a sheepish grin. "Or maybe I just like taking you down a few pegs." Dean laughed, a deep, throaty sound that sounded a bit like a scoff and sent a rush of heat through you. He didn’t pull away, and the teasing glow in his eyes eased for just a moment as he studied you.

"You drive me crazy, you know that?" His voice dropped a notch, and his regard danced across your skin. "Ever since that night at Murphy's… I haven’t stopped thinking about you."

Though your pulse was racing, you shifted away, pretending to be unimpressed. "I'm sure you say that to all the ladies," you taunted with a roll of your eyes. Dean shook his head, his smile fading a little. "This isn't like that."

You raised an eyebrow in mock disbelief. "Oh Please. Not even a little?"

He sighed, running a hand through his hair. "Look, I know I didn’t remember you from school. But Sam and I've moved around so much; I never bothered to remember anyone." He winced, as if admitting it aloud stung a little. "Though I have no idea how I don't remember you. I wish I did," he expressed, and he sounded so sincere that you nearly swooned.

"But things are different now. This is different," he proclaimed, eyes wild with a fiery determination. You arched an eyebrow, scooting forward. "So, what’s this been about then?" Though you question Dean, you give him no time to respond, pressing on. "You're just upset that I didn’t fall into your lap like all the others?"

Dean’s eyes were ablaze, and he didn't retract into his seat. If anything, he dipped in closer. "Sorry I hurt your ego," you added, half-sarcastic, half-challenging. He shook his head and his jaw clenched. "Maybe it started out that way," he acknowledged, but his tone held not a trace of his usual humour. "But really, it isn’t like that anymore."

You tilted your head, intrigued by the sincerity in his voice, but confused by his articulation. You’d expected him to laugh it off, throw out a line, but this? This felt… as he said, different. Not to mention the way he was looking at you—like he was seeing you, really seeing you—made your heart skip a beat.

"Oooohhh, okay then," you mocked slowly, drawing out the words. "Tell me, what’s it like Dean?" If you weren't paying such close attention to him, you might have missed how his breath hitched and how his eyes darkened while he inched closer to you. The impish atmosphere between you two had suddenly altered, the circulating tension becoming thick and electric. His hand moved to your thigh under the table, his touch scalding, steady, while his other hand weaved through your fingers.

"It’s like…" He trailed off, his voice a whisper now, his lips brushing your ear. "Every time I see you, I have to resist the urge to…" He paused, cutting himself short as he moved back slightly. His breath was warm on your skin and he peered down at your lips once again, however this time, he appeared vulnerable.

"To what?" You whispered, barely able to get the words out as your heart pounded against your ribs. Dean’s eyes flicked back up to meet yours, his hand tautening on your leg, his thumb slowly rubbing your inner thigh. "To kiss you."

Before you could respond he closed the gap, his lips crashing into yours with a sudden, heated intensity that took your breath away. You melted into the kiss. All the teasing, the banter, the back-and-forth disappeared as you instinctively tangled your fingers into his hair, drawing him in.

Dean groaned softly against your lips, pleased by your instant reaction. His hand moved from yours to cup your cheek, his thumb gently gliding over your flushed skin as the kiss deepened. It was slow at first, then building, and heat swarmed your core when the hand gripping your thigh slid upwards. You felt the pent-up tension you'd been feeling all week, and since the moment you saw him, spill into your actions. He pressed flush against you, leaving no space, and you laid your legs overtop of his lap. His tongue licked your lips surface, grazing your teeth and you gasped, pulling away as much as he allowed.

Breathless and panting, Dean rested his forehead against yours, his eyes still closed, a small smile playing at the corners of his mouth. "That’s what it’s like," he rasped airily, his voice hoarse. And for the first time, you believed him. Things may really be different.

As you got lost in your thoughts, he began to chant your name with that same smile widening. Both his hands then seized your upper arms, shaking you tenderly as he repeated your name. "Tell me what you're thinking," he more or less pleaded.

"I'm thinking that, if I find out you're lying to get in my pants, I'll kill you," you smirked devilishly, peering up at him through hooded eyes. His eyes morphed into a darker shade of black, turned on by your threat. You giggled, lightly shaking your head. "I can't fake this baby," Dean sweet talks, and you note how his manner seems looser now that he's gotten how he feels off his chest.

He pecks your cheek. "You know, I was pretty hurt when you left with that guy the other night," he huffed like the memory still haunted him. You stifled your laugh. "Uh-huh?" His eyes narrowed at your teasing response, though his smile hardly wavered. "You think that's funny?"

"Yeah," you replied immediately with a shrug. "Especially since I was deliberately messing with you." Dean's brows shot into his forehead, creasing it in utter disbelief and bafflement. "I didn't sleep with him Dean," your tone lowers wantonly, "like I said, I wanted to take you down a few pegs."

His wide eyes crinkled as he erupted with laughter, stammering "touché" in between chuckles. You laughed along, admiring how carefree he was at that moment. When his stream of laughter died out, you gulped at the strange look he suddenly showed. "It's a shame," he stated cryptically. Your face twisted with puzzlement, which made Dean's dreamlike expression grow, apparently in deep contemplation. "What?" You snapped jokingly.

"Oh nothing," he sighed while his palms skated down to your torso, cupping your ribcage as he looked to the distance sadly. You smacked his side which made a snort escape him. "Oh, just... If only you left with me that night," he remarked dolefully, unable to hide that glint of lust-fueled wit. "If only," you reiterated with a strained sound, also unable to hide your looping thoughts, which were clouded by desire. "How about we make that happen?" He kissed your other cheek. His lips lingered there and his breath fanned your skin. "How about it?" You responded airily and Dean laughed at your consistent repetition, clearly trying to push his buttons in a way he's grown to love.

Without another word, he slides out of the booth and gently ushers you out, onto your feet, holding your hand firmly in his. With his spare hand, he drops some cash on the table and pulls you to his hip. He walked you both outside, leading you towards his car and you shuddered at the sight. It reminded you of the countless times he'd pick up Sam from school and you'd watch him from afar. The number of fantasies you had of him and that car made your body surge with a fierce, intoxicating need.

He opened his passenger seat and propped you inside, and you obediently admired his every move until he sat behind the wheel. One glimpse of his profile darting from you to the windscreen pushed you off the edge.

"Fuck," you quickly murmured, catching Dean off guard when you abruptly pounced on him, straddling his thighs. You cupped his dome, tugging on his short locks while his hands shot to your waist, dragging you downwards so he could grind into you. You both moaned into the messy kiss, so close to satisfaction, yet so far. He groaned your name when your lips moved to his neck, desperate to leave a mark. He reluctantly tried to halt your attack, but your need overpowered all logic. "I can't wait," he grunted when he wretched your face from his neck. Dean's head thumped against the seat's leather headrest and his eyes were glossy with a sort of determination.

"Get in the back," is all he ordered before he hastily assisted you onto the backseat. He climbed on top of you after grabbing a condom from the glove compartment, following your mouth eagerly, and pecking it a few times as he laid you down. "God you're sexy," he groaned. He then yanked off his jacket and shirt in two swift motions before that familiar smug expression consumed his features. "You're unbelievable," you scoffed and his smirk grew.

"I get that a lot," he commented jokingly and you smacked his side harder than before, displaying your exasperation. He laughed and you threaded your fingers into his hair again to shut him up. His mouth collided with yours, and his hands frantically removed both of your clothes. He sweared loudly when you bucked your hips up and rub his bulge —now covered by his boxers alone. His deep voice let out a surprising whimper when you did it again, this time using your hands to drag him down, clutching his defined hips.

You then had a sudden craving to admit to him how much you longed for this moment, but you opted for: "fuck me." Dean growled into your ear before kissing you rather harshly as he took himself out of his briefs. He cupped your bare breast, which is still partially hidden by your bra since he was too transfixed elsewhere to remove it completely.

When his cock hit your abdomen and he slid on the condom, you hummed a moan, biting your bottom lip in anticipation. "Jesus," he mumbled under his breath when his tip breached your slit. He smoothly glided inside, as if you were two puzzle pieces melding together. Your heart panged and you gasped, while Dean muttered nonsensically. He reared back to look into your eyes once he bottomed out. When he pulled away, his very breath abandoned his lungs as if his soul was now connected to your lips, and you'd be keeping it with you now and forever. For once, he actually felt like putty in someone's hands, and he didn't hate it. Not when you felt like Heaven, after years of experiencing Hellfire.

Underneath him, you remarked on how it felt to finally be touched by Dean... Addictive. Unhurriedly, he guided both your arms above your head, stretching out your spine, and holding your wrists in place with a single hand. The air stilled and you listened to his rapid heartbeats. The tension was palpable as his mouth descended onto yours —quickly going from slow and passionate, to needy and frenzied. Dean suddenly thrust and you yelped, which made him cease his movements immediately. He attempted to pull away from your mouth but you raised your head to pull him back down, unable to do anything else, not with your arms still hoisted above you. You rolled your hips into him and he released a lengthy grunt of approval, clearly understanding that you wanted him to resume his pounding.

He sped up his thrusting and you could barely hold back your cries, loving his strength and weight caging you in, and taking you roughly. Even though his lower half was aggressive, it was still Dean writhing into you, looking down at you with such tenderness, and kissing you in ways that made you hopelessly expect more. At this point, you'd take whatever he'd give you and thank him for it.

"Don't stop," you nearly shouted when your legs begun to shake. He released an animalistic sound, his strokes becoming increasingly choppy. Dean heaves your name, muttering, "You're some kind of fantasy, you know that?" Before you could respond he captured your lips, moaning into your mouth while his fingers slipped between you two. Suddenly his digits rubbed circles onto your clit and you gasped loudly, whining into his all-consuming kiss. You wrapped your legs around his waist and felt Dean smirk, but you couldn’t bring yourself to reprimand him when he makes you reach your climax, which rushes over you like a tidal wave, crashing into shore with a loud sob.

"Fuck," Dean's hips stuttered into you, and his eyes squeezed shut as he came, letting go of your wrists to prop himself up in a plank. He breathed in and out slowly, eyelids eventually fluttering open to witness you already surveying him, entranced by his face when it's full of ecstasy. "That was... Fucking amazing," he panted as he monitored your reddened complexion. You nodded, though you shied away from his gaze, feeling all too vulnerable, afraid that history was repeating itself, and you were already head-over-heels for Dean Winchester.

As your mind wandered into a dark place, Dean's calloused finger pads grabbed your attention when they caressed your jaw, swiping your cheek. "I hope you enjoyed that as much as I did," he chuckled airily to himself before continuing, "and give me a chance to do that again—many, many times."

Now it's his turn to seem sheepish and you laugh, partially in shock. "No strings attached?" You arched a brow as you questioned what you were, despite having not gone on an actual date yet. He displayed a genuine smile as he shook his head no. "I'm already tangled up in them," he confessed with a shrug.

Your heart flipped and you fought to remain stoic. You then lifted your index finger above your nose, right in his eye line. "I'm givin' you one chance... To do that, over and over again," you whispered sensually, biting back your shit-eating grin. A giddy, boyish look took over Dean's face and your laughter burst through, making your core clench around him and he sucked in a sharp breath.

"How about we start that 'one chance' right now?" You purred, smirking at the way his eyes playfully narrowed. "Gladly."

[imnotherelmao]

plushie dreadfuls are kinda fun but i don’t like their npd one a whole lot :/ not super egregious but not my favourite especially since the floppy eared ones are a lot cuter

so i decided to redesign it as one of the lop eared plushes to see how that would come out! and added some little changes of my own

original:

[rafeyscurtainbangs]

Sharing - Twin Rafe Fic (Part 1 of 2)

+18 Minor DNI

CurtainBangs!Rafe x BuzzCut!Rafe x GF!Reader

⭐ republished ⭐

+18 Minor DNI

🪄 warning: SMUT, language, drinking, name calling, choking, pet names, sharing kink, ownership kink, fingering, unprotected p in v, choking, public sex, rough sex, shower sex

📖 After meeting Rafe's (CurtainBangs!) twin brother Cam (BuzzCut!) for the first time, Rafe gives you a proposal you can't help but accept: sharing you.

✨ “Pretty sure you know what I want to hear, princess,“ he grunts. "Just tell me you want him. Tell me you want us to share you. Tell me you want his cock and mine, y/n. Let me hear it.” ✨

3.8K

Reader's POV:

“Touchdown, Bulldogs!”

The stadium erupts with applause as Rafe gets swallowed up in a team hug. The school fight song blares through the open arena as a massive homecoming crowd clamors to storm the field in celebration. You hang back slightly with the other players’ girlfriends, watching as Rafe shuffles over to an equally massive #2; Cameron scrolled across his back as well. The two of you have only been dating for a few weeks, but you could tell, like quintessential twins, those two were close.

Cam was always Rafe’s second call after you, no matter what, good or bad, and it almost seemed like Cam was two steps ahead. He knew how to calm him down; he always seemed to know what to say. But, then there was the rivalry; Cam knew how to push Rafe’s buttons. What to say to trigger a classic Cameron bitch fit.

Rafe wanted nothing more than to win this game. You could see his chest puffed out a little more than usual, his shit-eating grin a little more sly. Rafe tugs off his helmet, skimming his fingers through his sweaty fringe as his brother removes his helmet as well.

You squint your eyes, stomach fluttering as you take in the difference from all the Instagram and Snapchat images you’ve stalked prior: a fresh buzz cut. Jesus Christ. Rafe pulls him in for a big hug, slapping his shoulder pads.

Your nerves creep in fast, a combination of anxieties about meeting Cam for the first time. I want to impress him. I want him to like me. I want him to think I’m good for Rafe. That’s his twin brother, after all. Sure, I met Ward and Rose, Wheezie and Sarah, and that went great, but this is the big leagues. This is his twin; this is make-or-break.

But, on a separate note, should I be this nervous? I mean, in this way? Seeing Cam gave me butterflies… Maybe it’s ‘cause he looks so much like Rafe? I can’t deny that when he took off his helmet, I felt something. Fuck, I’m in trouble.

“There she is," Rafe groans as he pulls you off your feet and into his strong arms. You cup his sweat-glistened cheeks, kissing him deeply.

"Hi, Rafey," you mumble against his sweet lips.

"How’d I do?" He smiles against your pout, nose nuzzling yours playfully.

"So damn good,” you praise as you scratch your nail into his hair, pulling him closer.

“You look so pretty, baby - love seeing you in my jersey.” Rafe sets you down on your feet, kissing you again before pulling you to his side.

“This her?” Cam pipes in, stealing your attention away.

“Sure is. Cam, y/n; y/n, Cam,” Rafe smiles down at you proudly. You turn your attention to Cam, feeling that same flutter from before, a blush creeps in your cheeks as you see the same look in his eyes that Rafe gave you the first night you met.

“Well, shit,” he rasps as he steps a little closer. Cam takes you off Rafe’s hands, drawing you into his embrace, hugging you before pulling back ever-so-slightly. “Fuck, you’re stunning," he praises.

Cam reaches up, fixing the little "R” pendant on your chest, brushing your clothed cleavage as he sets it in place. Your heart races at the contact between you, banging so loudly you swear Cam can hear it. “Thank you,” you breathe. A grin slides across Cam’s lips; Cam’s smile is stunning, just like your boyfriend’s. But there’s a fire behind it that once again gives you the most delicious deja vu. Cam likes what he sees.

“So…” Rafe teases, head cocked slightly, arms raised, holding open your spot at his side.

“Oh shit. Sorry, Rafey,” Cam snickers as he passes you back to his brother. Rafe wraps his arm around your shoulders, tugging you in, pressing a rough kiss on your hair. Cam’s eyes return to his brother, a smirk spreading on his rosy lips. You look up at Rafe, catching the mirror image.

“Well, this one’s gonna help me with my post-game routine; why don’t you come over in like an hour-” Rafe continues to talk; Cam cocks his eyebrow, seemingly stuck on the first part of the plan for the evening. He smiles sinfully, eyes falling down your body, making you blush as you see his wheels turn. These two talk about everything; your little post-match shower session was most likely a topic of discussion already. 

“We drinkin’ tonight?” Cam drawls.

“Literally just said that, dumbass. Maybe if you stop starin’ at my girl’s tits, you could focus. Yeah?” Rafe taunts, shoving his brother away.

“Not gonna apologize,” he bullies as he wets his plump bottom lip.

If Cam was anyone else, he’d gone - erased from this earth for his wandering eye. Rafe, no stranger to roughing up a guy or two on account of you - his brother seemingly the exception. “You’re a fuckin’ dog, buddy.” Cam shrugs and smiles, owning the title as Rafe hooks his finger under your chin. “I don’t blame him. My girl’s perfect,” he whispers before meeting your lips.

“This is my favorite part of Game Day, baby," Rafe hums as he tears his shirt off his athletic body. You pinch the bottom of your top, drawing it over your naval. ”Lemme,“ he smiles, stripping you of his old jersey before tossing it to the side, lifting you off your feet. Rafe pulls away only briefly to turn on the water, walking with you to the countertop. It’s dim, the perfect amount of light thrown from his open bedroom door. Admittedly, it’s your favorite part of Game Day as well: getting this time with Rafe, the two of you unwinding before a night of drinking, the pair of you coming down from his post-game high together.

Rafe sets you down on the cool top, sending chills up your warm body as his hands quickly get to work. One weaves into the nape of your hair while the other grips the plush of your hip. ”You know I love you,“ he whispers as his rough fingers trace over the top of your thigh, disappearing between your legs.

”Of course, Rafe.“

"M'not sayin’ this to start a fight; m'not callin’ you out for anything. Alright?”

“Okay," you giggle nervously. ”Is everything okay?“

"More than okay," he grins. You let out a little gasp as he runs two fingers through your wetness, lifting them to his lips tasting you. "You have a crush on my brother. Don’t you, sweetheart?" He whispers. Your eyes widen in surprise, lashes fluttering as he calls you out.

"I - Umm… Rafe-”

“I said, 'It’s more than okay, honey," he mumbles as his fingers press through your entrance. ”You don’t believe me?“ Your brows knit in confusion as you stare into his beautiful blues. How could Rafe Cameron be okay with this? I mean, he almost got arrested last weekend for a fight after someone bought me a shot. How is he okay with me having a crush on his brother? 'And, it’s more than okay?’ No way.

"No…" You whisper feebly as your gaze falls to his lips.

A smirk stretches wide, Rafe’s breathing increasing with yours. "No, what, princess?”

“I don’t believe you," you reply before returning your eyes to his. Rafe pouts his lip teasingly, pumping and scissoring his long fingers.

"Alright…" He shrugs, continuing to tease you. You grip Rafe’s thick dick in your hand, rubbing his precum into his swollen tip as he quickens the speed of his hand, thrusting his fingers at an insane pace. ”He’s got a crush on you.“ Your pussy tightens around his digits at the sound of his words, making Rafe smile wickedly. "Baby girl…" He mocks as he moves in even closer, wrapping his muscular arm around your waist. Rafe tucks himself into the crook of your neck as you feel the knot in your stomach tighten.

”M'gonna cum,“ you whine.

”You sure, y/n,“ he whispers against your warm skin. ”I don’t believe you.“ Rafe repeats your words as he slows his pace, edging you; prompting you to grind against his palm, craving a release.

”Rafe…“

”Hmm?“ He chuckles through a throaty laugh. ”S'alright, baby. We share.“ Rafe baffles you with his admittance as he spears his thick cock into your drenched pussy.

”Rafe!“ You wail, mouth hanging open as he circles his hips nice and slow, buried balls deep, letting you adjust to his size. You cling onto his shoulders, nails digging into his tan skin as he stretches you out. Steam swirls all around the two of you, the room burning with vapor and sex as Rafe walks toward the walk-in show, drawing back the glass door. ”This could be a really good night for you,“ he mutters as the stream of water pours from the spout, washing over your naked bodies.

Rafe’s eyes fall down your bare frame, watching as the little rivers of warm water cascade through your dips and curves, glistening over your already dewy skin. His blonde fringe hangs wet on his forehead, framing his beautiful face. You look down as well, eyeing the place where your bodies connect; Rafe’s thick cock sheathed deep. "You share girls?" You whisper. Rafe moans as he presses you back into the icy shower wall, forcing himself as deep as possible, making you exhale a deep breath.

“'Course we do." He starts to pound you into the wall, making you cry out in pleasure.

"And, you want to share me?" You ask, weakly between rough thrusts.

”That not clear?“ He rasps, drawing out of your cunt, whirling you around before bending you over, pounding back into your aching core.

"Fuck!” You sob, feeling him deep in your guts. You take hold of his wrists, his hands steadying your hips, clawing into the fat of your ass. Rafe spreads your cheeks, coaxing his cock in slower as he feels you tighten around him again.

“Bounce for me. Yeah?" He groans, slapping your ass before letting you take control. You throw your bum on his cock; cheeks clapping against Rafe’s wet skin. Your curves recoil with each slap of his tight body against yours, knees buckling, causing Rafe to chuckle darkly as he watches you go weak on his dick. "Please," you whimper, knowing he won’t let you cum until he hears you say it.

”Pretty sure you know what I want to hear, princess,“ he grunts. "Just tell me you want him. Tell me you want us to share you. Tell me you want his cock and mine, y/n. Let me hear it.”

“Rafe.”

He winds up, slapping your thigh harshly, making you scream, voice bouncing off of the shower walls. “I want him. I - I want you to share me. Fuck. I want your cock and his." You squeal Rafe’s name as you gush around his cock; your entire body shaking as he keeps you standing through your climax.

"I want you to beg,” he huffs, tugging your hair, pulling you close, back pressed against his heaving chest, Rafe not letting you come down from your orgasm before he starts working on your next. One arm wraps around your throat in a chokehold, squeezing tightly while the other arm binds around your waist.

“Please.”

“No. Not enough," he sneers, constricting your airway with his biceps. Rafe starts rocking in and out. You can feel every ridge and curve of his cock as he gives it to you, slow and deep, making your eyes roll back. You feel yourself getting lightheaded at the lack of air, but Rafe doesn’t let up his hold. ”Beg.“

Holy shit.

"Please, Rafe. I fucking need it," you pant wearily. ”I want to please you both… I wanna feel you-“ Your voice trails off as you feel your orgasm building again, vision fuzzy, mind muddled like you could fall to the floor.

"Baby? You got awfully quiet. You a'ight?" He growls; a low tone rumbled against your skin.

”I want you both to ruin me!“ You choke out the words. “I’ll do anything for your dick. Please.”

"Mmm… Atta girl.” Rafe pulls out, taking his time with you as he looks down at you lovingly. He guides your chin, lifting your lips to his. Rafe kisses you soft and slow as you try to catch your breath. You look down at his throbbing dick, the creamy ring of your arousal rinsing off his hardened flesh, ready for more.

“You think your brother wants me, Rafey?" You whisper, biting into your bottom lip as you bat your lashes, playing into his game.

”'Course he does. That bastard always wants what’s mine. Lucky for him, we’re brothers… N'I play nice.“ Rafe loops his bicep under your thigh, plunging his cock back in. He rolls his hips deliciously slow, finding that perfect angle that makes tears leak from your eyes. ”Gonna fuck that tight little ass of yours, baby. Fill you up,“ he groans. ”We haven’t done that yet? You ready, f'me? Think you can handle us both?“

You can’t even form words; all thoughts in your mind run wild at the idea of having them. "You’re squeezing me so tight, baby… Think you could cum for me again?" He whispers against your ear, teeth, tugging at your lobe as he draws out, slamming his cock back into your pussy. You let out a cry of pleasure, your cracked sob reverberating off the walls. "Gonna have you creamin’ on our cocks all night. Just a little whore for Cameron cock, aren'tcha?" Rafe throws his hips again and again as the knot in your stomach starts to twist tighter. You pinch your eyes shut, nodding frantically as you feel your orgasm within reach, completely cock-drunk. "Say. It.”

“M'just - Fuck, daddy-”

“M'just what?" He mocks your fucked-out tone.

"A little whore for your cocks. M'just a hole for you, Rafe.”

“Ugh. Yes! Fuck. That’s my girl. That’s it, baby. Cum for me. Yeah? Cum on my cock.”

“Fuck…”

“Cum." Your walls spasm around his cock; waves of your finish crashing down on you again and again as you call out his name. Rafe yours as he floods you with his seed. You can feel his dick twitching inside you, your body milking every last drop of his cum.

Rafe’s forehead falls to your neck in exhaustion. ”Goddamn. I fuckin’ love you, honey,“ he breathes as he kisses his way up your neck. ”Mmm… We’re gonna take real good care of you tonight, baby,“ Rafe moans. You can hear the excitement in his voice, matching your own, but you can’t help but feel a slight apprehension.

What if this ruins what Rafe and I have?

Your demeanor must have changed because Rafe notices instantly. "Talk to me, princess,” he respires as he holds you tight, lips resting on your shoulder as he rocks the two of you lazily.

“I’m a little worried, Rafe. This doesn’t really feel like something you’d do with a girlfriend… Someone you wanna end up with. This seems like something the two of you would do with some random girl - maybe a fling. I wanna be with you… I don’t see us not being together. I’m crazy about you, Rafe,” your voice cracks with emotion, making him expel a soft pity laugh like you have nothing to worry about.

“I’ve got no doubt in my mind that it’ll be us, Y/n. Rafe and y/n…” He pinches the gold "R” he bought you between his fingers. “I’m crazy about you too, baby. You gotta know that. Yeah? Here.” Rafe tugs off his gold Cameron Family ring, gliding it on your thumb instead. “I want you to have this, Y/n.”

“Really?” You gasp.

“'Course. You’re mine. Alright? Tonight doesn’t mean I think anythin’ less of you, or I’m not serious about our relationship. M'so fuckin’ serious, y/n.” Rafe pulls out of your pussy, making you wince; his large palm quickly soothes the ache. Rafe turns you into his chest, wrapping his towering frame in yours. “How could I not be serious about you, baby?” He mumbles warmly against your lips. You look up at him, matching his gaze. ”S'no question who you belong to, honey. Cam knows you’re mine. I had you first. M'gonna have you when he’s gone. Alright? Just let us take care of you like you take care of me. A'ight?“

"Okay, daddy,” you smile as you rest your hands on Rafe’s muscular chest, trying to contain your excitement as you see his ring adorned on your tiny finger. Rafe glances down as well, chuckling to himself as he sees how happy the gesture made you.

“Looks good on you, baby," he croons. "Let’s have a good night. Yeah?”

“Let’s do it.”

You start moving your hips to the music; the bass bumps in your chest. Your friend quickly grabs you by your hips, turning you away from her; you start grinding on her. Your hands drift up your thighs, working back down as you roll your body nice and slow. “Where’s Rafe?” One of your friends screams over the track. You smile and shrug as you continue to move. “You think you could introduce me to Cam?” She wiggles her eyebrows in your direction. No way.

“Sure," you breathe, brushing her off.

Where are they? Tonight has been fun. Cam is every bit as gentlemanly as Rafe. He asked me about school, my major, and my friends, but it was all very "normal”, almost as if that conversation with Rafe in the shower hadn’t happened.

Was he genuinely interested in me like Rafe said he was? Or did he change his mind? You look out into the packed college bar; a deep sea of students grinding and moving to the beat. Your dance partner gives you a sloppy kiss on the cheeks before getting whisked away by her boyfriend, leaving you solo again.

The void is quickly filled as your body is claimed by Rafe, taking you from behind. He presses his chest against your back, rough hands working up your bare thighs, resting on your hips. “You look good, baby girl,” he groans. “This fuckin’ body." His lips meet your neck, kissing and nipping his way to your ear as you grind to the beat. You can feel his rock-hard cock through his jeans, pressed against your ass. His rough fingers move down, drifting lower and lower, making your pulse below. "Bet this pussy’s so wet,” he groans, teeth grazing the shell of your ear.

Rafe applies a little more pressure, pressing his fingers on top of your clothed pussy; rubbing small circles on top. Oh my god. Your body tingles, warmth coursing through your system as you feel little spurs of pleasure between your thighs. You breathe deeply, taking in his cologne, eyes widening when you take in a subtle differences.

This isn’t Rafe.

You look ahead, watching as Rafe lifts his red SOLO cup to his lips, his smirk half-seen as he stares you down. He gives you a flirty nod before tossing back the rest of his gin and tonic. You look down at the large set of hands on your body, seeing his twins matching gold Cameron ring on his finger. Cam’s body is familiar, the shape of him fitting perfectly with yours, but his hold is heavy, touch not as gentle as Rafe’s. His kisses are rough, sending chills up your spine as you rest your hands on top of his, guiding them closer to your sweet spot as Rafe watches on.

Cam’s fingers trace your inner thigh, toying with the soaked lace of your panties. “Y/n…" He moans against your skin. You lean back against him, tipping your chin up in his. Your heart skips a beat when you see Cam’s face, the sight of him making this all that more real. He looks so good, so fucking good; Rafe’s double in every sense of the word, donning a black v-neck instead of a white. His gold chain lays on his chiseled chest, glinting in the laser lights. The only visible difference is his buzzed hair. Cam wets his lip, blue eyes sparkling down on yours.

He pushes your panties to the side, causing you to gasp; Cam quickly claims your lips, stealing your breath. Rafe’s brother teases your entrance with the tip of his rough finger, making you whimper on his lips. He draws his hand away, bending you over. You rest your hands on your knees as you throw your ass back into him. Cam’s grip tightens on your hips, pulling you closer; the two of you fucking clothed.

Rafe pinches his jeans, adjusting himself clearly, loving what he sees. He calls over to the bartender, yelling for his tab, making your heart pick up pace as you see the plan set in motion.

Cam grabs you by your waist, turning you around; pulling you close to his chest. One hand works around the back of your neck, guiding your focus toward his eyes as his other hand continues to massage your clit. You feel a heat building in your belly, lashes fluttering as you look up at him.

"Rafe said you were a good girl, y/n. That true?" He rasps in a voice just a little deeper than Rafe’s.

"I - I’m a good girl," you whimper.

"Then cum for me." Cam pulls you in a little closer as you feel yourself about to lose control. Fuck. Am I gonna cum in front of all these people? You look around, the shoulder-to-shoulder crowd off in their own worlds. "Eyes on me? Wanna see your face, princess. Wanna see my brother’s pretty little slut cum on my hand in front of all these people," Cam taunts. He leans in, lips brushing against yours. "Our hands.” Ours? You gasp as Rafe grabs you by the waist, plunging two thick fingers between your thighs.  He fucks them into your pussy effortlessly, curling and stroking with precision.

“He told you to cum," Rafe warns.

You grit your teeth, gripping onto Rafe’s wrist and Cam’s shirt as your orgasm claims your body. The two boys work you through your release. Cam watches you closely, taking in your beautiful features as you cum for him for the first time. Rafe slips his fingers out of your pussy, sucking the mess clean as he always does. "What do you say, brother? Let’s get our girl outta here. Hmm?”

Part 2

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[dazed--xx]

SKZ Reaction: He hurts the reader (Hyung Line)

A/N: GUESS WHOS BACK?! BACK AGAIN DAZED IS BACK TELL A FRIEND GUESS WHOS BACK GUESS WHOS BACK GUESS WHOS BACK….a little short one I was able to come up with for this request. I hope y’all missed me as much as I missed y’all. I was uninspired recently but I’ve found my inspiration and I’m not as depressed as I once was so I felt it was only right to give y’all what you wanted. Also Minhos is implied Yandere

Masterlist

Chan:

“You’re fucking kidding me right?!” You argue, frustration bubbling in your stomach as the image of the trainee seated comfortably on Chan’s lap flashes in your memory. He shakes his head, his eyes rolling in annoyance, “No, Y/N if you can’t handle the fact that she just fell and it’s not what your making it out to be then maybe I don’t need to be with you!” He growls. You scoff at the audacity “oh sorry Chan, she just fell and I just so happened to walk in at the wrong time?!” He throws his hands up in frustration “Jesus Fuck! Y/N are you stupid? Like genuinely I’m asking because you’re obviously fucking stupid if you seem to think I would allow someone to do that!” The veins in his neck begin to bulge as you roll your eyes “I guess I’m fucking stupid then! Cause I don’t believe you! If she had just fell why were her arms around your neck why was her head laying on your shoulder?! WHY WERE YOUR ARMS WRAPPED AROUND HER?! I UNDERSTAND IF SHE FELL BUT SHE DIDN’T FUCKING FALL YOU GUYS WERE FUCKING CUDDLING CHAN” you counter, your voice cracking as you make your way to the bedroom. Forcing the door open you grab your suitcase placed under the bed.

Chan followed behind you his eyes never once leaving you. His heart sunk in his chest at your actions, and his anger in his stomach bubbled. There’s no way you were leaving him over this….right? He genuinely didn’t do anything wrong. And whilst, yes things could have been misconstrued he was sincerely telling you the honest to god truth. Your actions only fueling his anger “Why can’t you just fucking trust me?!” He snaps, grabbing the lamp from the nightstand and sending it hurling across the room. Only, not only did he hear the shattering of the lamp but a loud scream erupting from your throat. His eyes fall on you now huddled in the middle of the room. Fragments from the lamp scattered on the floor behind you and at your feet. Shock over took him. His mouth hung widen open, tears flowed down your cheeks as you ran past him out of the room as you meekly muttered “I’ll send someone to get my things another time…” it took him a few seconds to process everything as his anger was completely subsided with his actions and your words. His feet acted before he realized what he was doing, your retreating figure came into view and his heart yearned to stop you from walking out of that door. “Baby—Y/N, please I-I’m so sorry. I-I don’t know why I did that, please don’t leave. I’m sorry” he cried as he wrapped his arms around your waist. Your whole body tensed from the contact and his resolve completely shattered at your fear. Sobs flowed out like Niagara, his breathing grew heavier and heavier as you struggled to pull him off you. His pleas falling on deaf ears as you finally force him off you and grab your keys and purse before running to your car.

Your heart broke as Chan pulled on your door handle, heartbreak and sorrow etched on his features as he begged you to stay, that he would fix things and profusely apologizing. You pleaded for him to let go of the handle so he wouldn’t get hurt but having no choice you placed your car in reverse and slowly made your way out of the drive way and down the street. Your eyes catching a glimpse of the man you love crying at the end of the driveway where you left him, on his knees.

Minho:

“You’re overreacting..” Minho sighed as you walked down the street, not understanding your anger at his ignorance. “Minho, you introduced me as your friend to someone you’ve liked for years. How can you be so oblivious to how that can hurt your girlfriend. That watched you pine over that girl for years.” You explained cautiously behind gritted teeth. “I didn’t pine over her. And I love you, not her so I don’t see the problem, nor do I really care if she knows our relationship or not. It’s not like I go around telling everyone you’re my girlfriend anyway” he states snobbishly as he shrugs you off. You stop in place releasing his hand. “So who knows then?” You question, this has come up a few times in your almost one year relationship. For some reason, Minho seems hesitant to fully acknowledge you as his girlfriend. You wouldn’t have really cared if it was just about going public but so far you’ve never even met his members. Not when you were his friend, and especially not while you were his girlfriend. You weren’t even sure his parents knew. And with the way he’s been treating you, it’s no surprise when he gives you a confused look and states “no one? Why does anyone have to know? You know what I’m not doing this with you again. I told you already, I don’t want anyone to know about us. Other people like to ruin happy relationships, why would I want someone to unnecessarily know about something I want to be mine and mine only?” You scoff at his undermining tone, this is how it always was. You somehow get on his nerves and he scolds you like a child, almost like he looks down on you in a way. Almost like—“Are you embarrassed of me or something?” You snap.

Realization washes over you, your mouth hung open; as you stare at him in shock. The look on his face has your blood running cold. A glare planted firmly on you as he stomps over to you, his hand roughly grabbing your wrist. His grip is vice like and hurt. “ow, Minho, you’re hurting me—Don’t ever say something so fucking stupid again are you kidding me?!” He snapped behind gritted teeth his words like venom almost instantaneously you nodded in fear. Tears built in your eyes and you thanked god you were close to your dorm. “Please let me go…” you muttered as he pulled you beside him down the street toward your dorm. The whole way his harsh grip remained on your wrist, as tears flowed down your cheeks. His natural calm look remained on his face, really selling the façade of someone quite unaffected but inside he was dying. How could you ask him that? You are the only thing that matters to him. He’s never once been embarrassed of you he loves you so much. And though—yes, he may have lied to that girl about your relationship, honestly just to see how you’d react, he never thought you’d ask him such a disgusting question. He lied to you, and he knows this is his price to pay for that lie but how could he bring you around everyone that’s so desperate to meet you? He could feel you slipping through his fingers so to speak so he held you at his side. Your pleas falling on deaf ears, he didn’t even realize how tightly he had been holding you. And once he realized it was too late, when you refused to meet his eyes at your door he felt like he was going to throw up. He overreacted, he knows he did. He stared at your fearful figure and pulled you into his chest. Words getting stuck in his throat as you shoved his arms away, what could he do? He was panicking. “I-I didn’t mean to—I don’t care.” You cut him off “I can’t do this anymore Minho, please…don’t—don’t come back here” this couldn’t be happening right now. “Princess, I really didn’t mean to. I’m so sorry, I’m not embarrassed of you okay? I’ll fix this, we can go to my dorm right now you can meet my members. I’ll do whatever you want but please don’t break up with me. You know id never hurt you on purpose, I genuinely just lost myself for a second but it won’t happen again. I won’t let it happen again. I’m sorry I’m so sorry but please don’t make me leave now it was supposed to be our night please don’t let my stupidity mess everything up.” He begged grabbing your hand in his. Shaking your head you rejected him coldly before rushing inside and locking the door behind you ignoring the banging and whaling at the door.

Changbin:

“This is really too much, Y/N..” Changbin scolded. You had texted him quite a few times, since he hadn’t come home in 3 days and to the average person you’d expect a reply or any sign your significant other is doing okay. The last time you had seen him he was on the verge of collapse and now he acted as if nothing had happened; as if you didn’t see how he struggled to even walk to your room a few nights prior. “How is it too much? I just asked Chan if you were okay, I was worried about you, Bin” you pout from your place on the couch. “I told you that I was fine. I told you I was busy and didn’t need you consistently checking up on me and being so fucking obsessive. I understand why your exes just disappeared on you cause holy fuck!” He growls, you bite your lip at his words lifting yourself from your seat and slowly make your way to the bedroom to collect your things to get some space. Your movements are halted by his harsh grip whipping you around to face him. Tears streaming down your face as your harshly shoved against the wall “No! You don’t get to be literally fucking crazy then just walk away like you didn’t fucking harass me” He scolds.

A sharp pain radiating in your back, you flinched as he towered over you. “Please let me go I-I don’t want this…I’m sorry I’m sorry” your hands covered your head as you squeaked. His hold on you loosened “B-babe…” he croaked “Im sorry I—“ his words were cut off by you forcefully shoving him away from you “D-don’t touch me” you exclaim while you rushed to the bedroom. Locking it behind you as you listened to a once frozen Changbin shout expletives and several loud bangs ring through the apartment.

Hyunjin:

“You really think he loves you?” Yerim prods, her words like venom and you silently prayed Hyunjin would be back from the store soon. “Hyunjin likes me Yerim, we’re dating. We have been dating for over a year now I would think he likes me” you sigh. Staring at the door, “you think that but you do know what he does when he comes over to my place? It’s like you don’t exist, he loves me honestly. We’ve been friends since we were kids you really don’t think I can’t make you guys break up any time I want? You’re still with Hyunjin because I allow you to be.” She snaps. Her hands sat on her hips as she leans into your face “He loves me not you and honestly it’s embarrassing how much you cling to him” her words like venom, sending pain straight into your heart. You never particularly cared that Hyunjins best friend was a girl, you never minded that they hung out almost daily. You didn’t mind not tagging along because you felt he deserved to have time alone with his best friend. Yet, every time you’d had seen her she would have something negative to say and for a while now it’s been the stipulation that Hyunjin was cheating on you with her. You typically just ignore her, and never tell Hyunjin as you don’t want to be the reason for them to fight. But her words today have you absolutely fuming. “Jesus Christ, Yerim! Can you grow the fuck up for once? Like honestly I’m really over this bitchy, monopolizing attitude you have over Hyunjin. He may have fallen for this innocent, perfect persona but I’m really getting pissed off with it.” You snap as you lift yourself from the couch you were sat on and making your way over to the kitchen. “I WAS HIS FRIEND FIRST! I LOVED HIM FIRST!” She growls grabbing your arm and forcing you to look at her “okay! SO WHY WERE YOU SUCH A PUSSY AND DIDN’T CONFESS TO HIM?! IF YOU LOVED HIM SO FUCKING MUCH YOU WOULD HAVE TOLD HIM THAT YOU LOVE HIM WHETHER HE WAS WITH ME OR NOT BUT NO YOU CHOSE TO RUN WITH YOUR TAIL TUCKED BETWEEN YOUR LEGS AND NOW YOU EXPECT ME TO GIVE A SHIT ABOUT HOW YOU FEEL ABOUT MY BOYFRIEND! Get a fucking grip Yerim and don’t fucking touch me!” You force your arm from her grasp with a little too much force earning a small yelp from Yerim as she stumbles back toward the couch. The sound of the door slamming closed cut both of your words off. You see Hyunjin standing in the doorway a glare planted on his face as he stormed toward you two.

You feel confusion as his scowl never once left your face as he shoved you away from his friend. Losing your footing from going backward you land on the ground a sharp pain shoots through your wrist. “Yerim are you okay? Y/N are you fucking crazy?!” He growled at you never once turning and seeing your small figure holding tight onto your wrist as the pain radiates through it. “. “She’s literally fine she fell…” you grumble. “Onto a couch mind you” your words are strained as you slowly lift yourself up from the ground. “Why’d you fucking push her in the first place? I get you don’t even like her but to act so fucking childish it’s disgusting!” He scolds, you glare at him as you make your way to your door grabbing your car keys with your wrist pressed firmly against your body; as you held back your tears “ITS DISGUSTING THAT YOU PUT YOUR HANDS ON ME TOO BUT WHATEVER HYUNJIN IM GOING TO THE HOSPITAL I WANT YOU, YOUR SLUT AND YOUR SHIT OUT OF MY APARTMENT BEFORE I GET BACK!” You snap. “Wait, Y/N! I think you’re misunderstanding something here… she’s my best friend that’s all! I didn’t mean to hurt you I’m sorry okay? But I heard what you said and just saw red when I saw you push her!” He counters as he makes his way over to you. “But you don’t care about what she said? Nothing was misunderstood she made both of your relationship very clear to me and honestly you can have each other” you argue, his eyes brows scrunch together as his head whips toward Yerim. “What the hell did you say to her?!” He shouted his voice filled with panic. “It doesn’t matter I want you both gone before I get back here…” you snap as you force your door open and make your way outside. You can hear his confused pleas for you to allow him to come with you. You saw the realization adorn his features as he realized that you were serious, when you wouldn’t unlock your passenger door no matter how many times he pulled on it. He cried and begged you not to break up with him over this, that he would fix it and he believed you. He felt the world crumbling down around him as you drove away and he received a text from you stating that him and his stuff needed to be vacated from your apartment by the time you came back home. He sobbed harshly as he stared after your car driving away from him.

[xxblairexxss]

Revenge (part 2)

Part 1

Pairing : Charles Leclerc x reader

Theme : Tiny bit of angst and fluff

In which Charles tried to fix things back after what he did to you last night. Not proofread!

Charles didn’t sleep at all that night. He couldn’t sleep. He didn’t deserve a wink of sleep after what he did. Funny how he was so tired last night but couldn’t even afford a minute of sleep now. He tried to check up on you but you locked the door. Yeah, served him right. The audacity for him to even try to see you after everything he said was unbelievable.

He only fell asleep due to exhaustion and it felt like a solid 5 minutes before his alarm rang. The house felt cold for some reason. It was early in the morning. He knew you would still be asleep.

Soon as he took a shower and got dressed up, he walked past the guest room and made his way to get the car key. He thought it would be better to not disturb you as you had enough from him anyway. That was when he saw a bowl of fruits on the table with a small handwritten notes on the side.

‘My handwriting is probably so hideous with my left hand but I hope you can read this. I couldn’t prepare your favourite sandwich but I cut these fruits for you. Make sure to eat something before you head out! I’m sorry about last night.’

Charles had to sit as he felt his legs getting weak. Why did you have to make things even worse. He was too embarrassed to talk to you and now he didn’t think he could even look at you in the eyes.

“Chérie?” He softly knocked on the door before turning on the doorknob. Charles took a peek inside the guest room and there you were, sound asleep with one hand clutching on the heating pad against your stomach. He had come in hoping he could apologize or at least say something before he left but seeing the way you sleep, your hair bun was loose as those strands of hair covering your face, you looked like you had just fallen asleep so he didn’t have the heart to bother you.

Charles sat on your side of the bed, careful not to wake you up as he heaved a sigh and tucked the strands of hair away from your face. “Why do you have to do that…after everything I have said.” He placed his hand against your cheek and stroked his thumb on your jaw. You were so kind, too kind that he didn’t know if he still deserve everything, all of this, the blessing of being your boyfriend and to have you as his. “I’ll be back as soon as the shooting ended. I love you.” He leaned in to kiss on your forehead before tucking you in and leave the room.

﹎﹎﹎﹎﹎﹎﹎﹎﹎﹎﹎﹎﹎﹎﹎﹎﹎﹎﹎﹎﹎﹎

“I have never met someone who looks so sad eating strawberries.” Joris took the vacant sit in front his best friend who looked like he had dark clouds surrounding him. “What happened? Was it Y/N?”

“Yeah, I fucked up.” Charles had been playing with the fruit ever since he reached the set. Nothing felt right. He kept on reminding himself to smile and to not bring any private matters into job but it was even harder this time. Maybe telling someone about it would make it better so he told Joris.

“What the fuck? Dude, you know I have always got your back but that was really messed up. What about all the cuts on her? What happened?” Joris would have smacked his friend in the head if they weren’t in public. He wasn’t an expert when it came to dating but he knew that was so low of him.

“I don’t know. I didn’t ask her about that.” He wiped his palm across his face. Now that he thought about it, he didn’t know where you got all those cuts and bruises from. All this time he thought you injured yourself on purpose.

“You didn’t ask her? What a fucking gentleman you are. Your girlfriend came home all bleeding and all you cared about was your image?”

“No, that’s not what I meant. I didn’t—sighs—I don’t know. I fucked up, okay. I know.” He aggressively messed on his hair and covered his face with his palm.

“Y/N even prepared you these after what happened? I would have left the house and you in a second.” You had always been Joris’s favourite. He could see you were different than any of Charles’s exes and hearing what Charles did to you made him fuming.

“No, no. Don’t say that. I can’t—I really can’t lose her, Joris.”

“Well then you should keep your act together or I’m gonna be offering her a ride to get away from you any second she calls me.”

﹎﹎﹎﹎﹎﹎﹎﹎﹎﹎﹎﹎﹎﹎﹎﹎﹎﹎﹎﹎﹎﹎

Charles wasn’t expecting the reply. You would always asked him to buy you tons of your favourite snacks whenever you got your period.

“How was your girlfriend?”

“Pardon?” Charles thought he was hearing things.

“Your girlfriend. That poor girl was hit by a bicycle last night it was really bad. Thank god she has a very loving boyfriend to take care of her. Is this all?” The old man scanned on the items Charles had put on the counter before clicking on the total amount. “Sir, are you alright?”

Charles believed the universe had arranged every events today just to remind how much of an asshole he was. “Yeah, I’m alright. Here, keep the change.”

﹎﹎﹎﹎﹎﹎﹎﹎﹎﹎﹎﹎﹎﹎﹎﹎﹎﹎﹎﹎﹎﹎

“Chérie?”

Charles closed the door and locked it before walking to the room. He knew you were in the bathroom when he heard a mumble coming from it. “Love, what are you doing?”

You had been struggling to put an ointment to your cuts. The cap of the ointment was fully sealed so you had to spend 10 minutes trying to open it and everything felt so awkward when you had to do things with your left hand. “I was just trying to put these on, I thought you won’t be home until another hour. I’m sorry let me clean up the mess. I’m really sorry.” You hurriedly put all the ointments and cotton bud aside.

“Here, I’ll help you.” Charles pushed open the door to the bathroom wider and took a step closer to take the cotton pad from your hand to which you took a stepped back in surprise.

You were still scared of him. You were scared of your own boyfriend.

“I—…” He felt his throat closing up and had to breath from his mouth. He couldn’t believe what had just happened and he was scared, scared of what would happen from here. “Love, I just wanted to help.”

“No, it’s okay… I can do it myself.” You gave him a smile, a smile that Charles knew was just a smile to ask him to leave you alone.

“No, let me help you. Please?” He slowly took the cotton pad from your hand.

“It’s okay, I can do it myself. You can take your rest, I won’t take up your time. I’ll be quite I promise.” You gave him a smile, the same one that didn’t reach your eyes.

Charles knew he messed up but he never thought what he did last night would make you completely shut him off. You used to seek for comfort in him whenever you were in pain, now he was asked to be away because you thought you were taking up his time.

“You didn’t take up my time. I’m your boyfriend I should be the one helping you. Give me that.” He took the cotton pad back from your hand and he leaned in to carry you up, one hand supporting your back and another one behind your legs out from the bathroom and headed to the room. “Stay still, Y/N. It started to bleed again.”

“Charles, it’s okay. I can do it—“ You tried to take the cotton pad away from him but he retracted his hand before you could touch it.

“If you can take it from me then I’ll let you do it yourself.” He dropped the ointments onto the cotton pad and pulled his hand away when you tried to snatch on it again.

“Charles, I’m serious. Let me do it myself.” You let out a sigh knowing you could never win against him since you didn’t go through those reflex tests like he did for years.

“And I am not playing around too. Take it from my hand and I’ll let you do it, love.” He dapped the cotton pad on the cut a few times and placed it away. “Is this okay?”

“Yeah, that should be fine. I can put the wound plaster on my own.” You bended and was going to take the box of wound plaster that was on his side before he snatched it first.

“Too late. I got it first.”

“Charles..”

“There you go. All set.” Charles ignored your plead and threw away all plastics and used cotton pad away before taking a seat on your side. “Have you eaten?”

“Yes..”

“And what did you eat?”

“Something..”

“Yeah, right. I’ll order something.” Charles stood up to get his phone but you hold him arm before he walked away.

“I don’t want takeouts. Can you cook me your carbonara?”

“My infamous carbonara? That dish was put out of the menu, remember?” He took a seat back on the bed and was greeted with a forlorn look from you. “I think I can bring it back. Pretty sure it’ll taste better than my last attempt.”

He had asked you to stay put and you could hear all the ruckus going on in the kitchen. Charles loved to talk to himself whenever he cooked so you could hear “This is good. I’m such a good cook.” and “Carlos would be impressed if he tasted this.”

“Charles?”

“Yes, love? Am I taking a long time?” He turned around and saw you walked towards him while playing with your ring, the ring that he gave you. “What’s wrong?” He took your hands in his and brought it up to his lips and peck on the ring.

“I…”

“What is it, love?”

“I didn’t go out last night on purpose. My cramp hurt and I didn’t want to keep on pestering you. I swear on my life I wasn’t trying to ruin your night I was supposed to head out, bought the painkiller, went home, and slept.” You couldn’t look at your boyfriend in the eyes because deep down you were still reminded of his enraged look and whatever he said to you last night.

Charles pulled into a hug and kissed on the side of your head. “I know, baby. I know. I was wrong and I’m really really sorry. I didn’t know what took over me, I didn’t know why I was so mad. I know and I understand if you still can’t forgive me but let me take care of you.” He didn’t hear you say anything but he could feel your body started to shake as you cried in his arms. “I guess seeing you last night with all those cuts made me infuriated at myself and I took it out on you by thinking of the worst.”

He broke the hug and brought his upper body down to level his gave with your teary eyes and held your face as his thumb stroked on the freshly dropped tears on your cheeks. “I know everything I did can never be easily forgiven and I understand that. I’ll sleep on the couch if you don’t want me on the bed, I’ll leave you alone after this. Just stop thinking as if any of this was your fault and that you shouldn’t trouble me with your problems. I could cancel every schedule I have if it meant I could take care of my sick girlfriend. You are my responsibility.”

“I didn’t hurt myself on purpose. I was on my way home and—“

“I know what happened. That guy shouldn’t even ride a bicycle if he can’t control it.” He frowned in displeasure thinking about it.

“But he was nice.”

“Are you saying that the stranger is nicer than your boyfriend? He replied and made you titter in response. “On second thought, I am an asshole so he is probably nicer than me.”

You laid your head back on his chest and you could feel his arm snaked around your waist instantly. “You are not an asshole. You were tired. People say things they don’t mean when they are too tired.”

“That still doesn’t excuse my behavior last night, baby. Joris was fuming I feel like he would have choked me to death if it wasn’t for the staffs around the set.” He slid his hand under your oversized shirt and stroked on your skin.

“Well, serve you right.”

“Yeah, serve me right for treating my prettiest, softest, kindest girlfriend that way. I’m sorry, love.” He pulled away and planted a kiss on your forehead.

“Stop apologizing. I’m hungry.”

“Ah! My pasta! You distracted me. Anyway, I bought your favourite chocolates on my way home earlier but you said you didn’t want anything so I guess they are mine.”

“Can we share?”

[ieatstarsforaliving]

Denial (1)

Summary: Hazel and (Y/N) are the tributes from District 12 for the 74th Hunger Games. Hazel doesn't want to see (Y/N) die. And (Y/N) just wants to live.

Pairing: Tribute!Hazel Callahan x Tribute!Reader

Warnings: Mature language, use of (Y/N), (Y/N) is kind of a bitch but aren't we all when facing death, I swear she gets better, mentions of death and suicide, lots of mentions of violence with pretty graphic descriptions but it’s just depressive hunger game shit

Word Count: 2614

Note: I KNOW I said I’d write part 3 of Spiderwoman!Hazel Callahan BUT I suddenly craved angst and had to write this. I had to. Just let me post this today and I’ll give you Spiderwoman soon– I SWEAR. Also this is lowkey bad cause I have not written angst in a while. Idk. It's not gut-wrenching enough. I'll make it work somehow.  - Bia <3

No.

Not you. 

Anyone but you.

Hazel knows what the Hunger Games look like. 

Violent. Callous. Sadistic. 

None of those words resemble you. 

Hazel watches as you walk towards the stage, each step weaker than the other. She thinks you’ll fall over, but you manage to stand beside the extravagantly dressed escort, who claps cheerily in your honor with a guiltless smile. As he chatters about his appreciation for the games, you are expressionless. Your fists are clenched, your eyes fixed on the crowd, blankly staring at the faces of the people who know you. 

Hazel has never seen you so scared. 

“Well, then, shake hands!” The escort chirps, pushing Hazel towards you. 

There’s a pause before Hazel takes your hand, giving it a tight squeeze.  

Please, please look at me, she thinks. It’s going to be okay– 

-But when you do look at her, it's automatic. Empty. Involuntary, as if meaningless to share eyes with a future corpse. Hazel recognizes the shift of the dynamic between the two of you. She is no longer your neighbor, your classmate— no longer the girl you once kissed in the grounds of the forest.

-She is your rival. 

Her eyes flick away from you. It feels like you can read what’s in her head, both the shock and the anguish. Hazel is not ready to deal with either. 

So she drops your hand and looks away, staring at the camera zooming in on her face. 

But in the second of eye contact, Hazel does notice this; 

Grief has already struck your eyes. 

The train ride is silent. The District 12’s assigned escort, who introduces himself as Meyers, continuously attempts to make conversation with either one of you, talking about what a privilege it is to be traveling to the Capitol. 

You choose to be speechless, sitting on the plump green velvet chair with your legs pulled close to your chest. Hazel sits opposite to you, persistently peering while contemplating on how to start up a conversation— or maybe, not to start one at all.

You’ve been subtly ignoring her gaze, trying not to look deliberate in your avoidance. Staring at the passing trees out the window, you’re forced to picture the forest back at home— A hug of browns, shelter of extended limbs, sunlight filtered through the overlapping leaves above.  

Along with the images of forest, you’re forced to remember. 

It was a particularly cold morning when Hazel first found you in the heart of the woods, the chilling air hanging heavy with the scent of pine and coal. In your hands was a bleeding bird, fragile body betrayed by your well-aimed rock. 

It turned out to be a mockingjay, and as the crimson stain spread across its black and white feathers, the satisfaction of your hunt waned. Your hunger persisted, but found yourself frozen. The irony of the prey was a slap in your face. A mockingjay– Why did it have to be a mockingjay? The failed muttation, the insult to the dystopia— the only thing in the world that seemed to be resisting the Capitol— and here you were, unwittingly taking its life. 

Hazel approached you, and you flinched– but you didn’t run. You couldn’t, not when her eyes had such softness within them, as if forgiving your savage hand in place of the bird. Without uttering a word, she knelt beside you on the forest floor. 

Her fingers dug through the dirt, prodding into her nails until a hole was made. Her hands were soiled but warm as she took the mockingjay from your hands, placing it in the makeshift resting place amidst the roots of a towering tree. You watched as she covered the bird with earth. She then took your hand and guided you back to the fence, back to the meadow, to the bakery, where she bought a small piece of bread in exchange for the shabby jewelry off her neck. You learned later the necklace was a gift from her absent father. 

That was the Hazel you became used to. She was strong. Stronger than anyone you ever grew to know– as if to acknowledge that she could one day be standing in the arena. Yet you found her kindness to be her weakness. She never harmed anyone. Anything. She was a refuge from the harsh reality of the televised Hunger Games. And you kept coming back to her, mistaking the comfort for a shield against the brutality of the world. As if being close with her could protect you from any fucking thing. Perhaps that had prompted you to kiss her on that day, the day before the reaping, and all you could think about was how she didn’t push you away.

You snap out of your memories, the weight of the past and the jarring truth of the present boring down on you. You can’t handle either of those. You can’t handle looking at her. You can’t handle being in the same room as her. But the intensity of her gaze has burned into the side of your head, and you feel demanded to meet her eyes once more. 

When you finally look at Hazel, her eyes widen. 

She starts to open her mouth, on a pathway to a ramble, but the compartment door swings open, revealing a rough man with scruffy braids holding an explicit magazine. 

Hazel recognizes him– the only winner left alive from the Hunger Games from District 12. He’s notably muscular, with tattoos that circulate his stocky arms along with a rugged beard to match his image. 

He is Hunger Games winner material, Hazel thinks, and feels considerably feeble in comparison. 

The man looks around the room.   

“Man, I got stuck with two girls this time?” 

Hazel starts, “G–” 

“-Mr. G to you. I may look like this, but I’m still your mentor.” 

You stare at the man as he disappointingly analyzes his two mentees. He decides you’re not promising enough, not giving more than two seconds to consider you two before plopping on the green velvet seat and flipping through his magazine featuring a barely-clothed capitol woman. 

“You’re supposed to give us advice,” Hazel mutters. 

He scoffs in response, “I’ll give you advice; don’t die too quickly.” 

“So you think we have a chance?” 

“Hell no,” Mr. G laughs. “Look at you two.” 

You and Hazel stare at him. He notices the angry silence. 

“Alright. I’ll help y’all.” He shrugs, not looking up from the magazine. “When you arrive, you’re going to be grabbed by the most annoying sons-of-bitches who're gonna get y’all cleaned up and pretty to parade around the Capitol. It’s gonna suck. But you deal with it. No complaining. No resisting. You deal with it. Then you get in the arena, let them throw you around for a bit, and then find something visibly mild to kill yourselves with.” 

Hazel stiffens at the line. 

“What is wrong with you?” You shout, your voice laced with anger. “My life is on the line.” 

Mr. G glances at you with a raised eyebrow, indifferent. “Welcome to the Hunger Games, darlin’. You think having a different mindset is gonna keep you alive?”

“You’re supposed to be our mentor,” Hazel says, her voice trembling. “You’re supposed to help us survive.” 

“Survive? You kids from District 12 don’t survive. You endure. You endure and you die. There’s a difference.” He emphasizes on the words ‘die’ and Hazel wants to throw up. “It’s just like the year before this and the year before that.”

“So you’re just giving up?” You push yourself to your feet and step towards him. There’s resentment in your words, clawing at the lifeline that is supposed to be your mentor. “You’re pathetic.”

Mr. G gets up from his seat, looming over your frame. Unwavering, you glare at him. He lets out a chuckle, a brief moment of consideration flickering across his features. Then he pulls back his fist. 

In an instant, Hazel rushes in front of you, her body bracing for impact. His fist swings towards you, but it doesn’t land on your face. Instead, it meets Hazel’s, sending her backwards to the floor. The collision makes Mr. G stumble back a step, surprise evident in his eyes.

Hazel groans, rubbing her cheekbone but gets up again, standing in front of you with a defensive stance.

“Ah, I understand now.” Mr. G gawks at Hazel, amused. “The fighter and her protector.” 

Then he starts laughing, slowly staggering away from the two of you, walking out of the compartment with his dirty magazine still in his hand. Meyers quickly trails behind him, muttering something about tributes being barbarians and forcefully shuts the door with a resounding bang. 

Hazel turns to you, hoping her face isn't red. “Are you okay?” 

“Don’t.” 

Hazel blinks, taken aback. You’ve pulled away from her, creating a perceptible distance, your face flushed in an unknown emotion. 

“I–”

“-Don’t do that.” 

Hazel recognizes the barrier you’re attempting to draw between the two of you. She refuses to accept it and steps closer. 

“Don’t,” you insist. “Don’t come closer. Don’t look at me. Don’t talk to me. We’re nothing.” 

“We’re friends,” Hazel protests.

“No,” you correct her, your voice cracking. “We stopped being friends when we were picked to kill each other. If we hadn’t—” 

If we hadn’t kissed, killing you would be easier. 

You stop. 

Hazel shakes her head, her expression in disbelief. “You’re the one who kissed me.”

She steps closer. You retreat. 

“Hazel, stop, please–”

She watches as your body begins to shake. A whimper escapes your lips, which is quickly covered by your hand. Then you’re sobbing uncontrollably, covering your reddened face as a means to hide yourself, but the tears manage to escape from the gaps between your fingers, soaking the condemned dress that you only wear on reaping days. 

“I- I don’t–” 

Hazel steps closer. “I know.” 

“I don’t want to die,” You croak. “I want don't want to die. I don’t want to kill. I don’t–” 

-I don’t want to kill you. 

The unsaid words ring around the room as Hazel pulls you into her arms. You don’t hesitate to hide your face into her neck, crying earnestly, body burning and painful, teeth clenched as the tears drip off your jaw and you refuse to let your lip quiver like a child. Hazel holds you tighter and presses her hand against the back of your head.

Hazel wants to say something. She opens her mouth.

Then she starts to cry.

As much as she hates Mr. G, he is right about the clean-up process before officially entering the capitol; it sucks. 

After arrival, the two of you were separated to different rooms with different stylists. Hazel’s stylist has been going about Hazel for two hours, scrubbing down her body with soaps of intense fragrance, trimming the nails into a smooth oval shape, rubbing makeup over her fresh bruise, painting on her eyelids, and primarily, getting rid of her body hair. She lays on the cold metal bed, barely clothed, as the hairs on her arms, underarms, eyebrows, nose– even places that shouldn’t matter being robbed of its hair. Hazel ignores the soreness of fabric being stripped from her leg, tearing out the hairs beneath it. 

Instead, Hazel thinks about killing. 

She thinks about the physicality of it. The impact of the blow, the act of stabbing, the struggle of choking someone. She assumes there would be weapons in the arena, there always is. But even back at home, she’s never crossed the line of killing even the smallest of creatures, not even when she was desperately hungry. But laying on the cold metal bed of the stylist’s office, she almost regrets the lack of practice. The visceral brutality, the raw and primal surge that accompanies violence— she’s unsure of it all. 

Then she thinks about you. 

She pictures a hand wrapped around your neck, slitting the flesh, warm liquid seeping through the fingernails— and the victim writhing, clawing, screaming— then finally falling limp. 

Hazel pales at the image. At the same time, she feels a particular jerk at her leg once again, and the stylist squeals the words, “Perfection! You’re beautiful!” 

She is ushered to sit up as the stylist grabs a cart filled with combs, bottles, and other products that Hazel doesn’t recognize. A mirror is passed, and Hazel blinks harshly at her reflection. She can see that she looks so… Capitol. Everything about her is enhanced; from hermetically coiffed eyebrows to her skin, perfectly shaped and painted, devoid of blemishes. The bruise from her mentor is gone, too. There's light bits of glitter on above her eyes, amplifying her blue eyes while giving her a much softened look. 

She looks like a tribute. 

“I really do wish you hadn’t cut your hair like this,” the stylist whines as she ruffles Hazel’s messy head with a sigh. A hairstyle she fearlessly trimmed with a pocket knife, now being sprayed by a sour, citrus themed liquid. “You are such a pretty girl. Perhaps we should glue a wig to your head.” 

“Don’t.” 

Hazel turns towards the voice. 

It’s you. You’re peering through the doorway, your entire form stripped and peeled away just as she is. Hazel does a visible double-take when she sees you, swallowing hard while staring at your half-naked body. She gazes at you, taking in the transformation that the Capitol has imposed on your appearance. 

If she thought you were beautiful before, she thinks you’re breathtaking now. 

“I like her hair,” You murmur, walking towards the bed. Hazel instinctively reaches up to touch her trimmed mullet, as if to confirm that it’s still there. 

“I suppose I can work with a tomboy image. Oh, I see a vision! I’ll be back,” The stylist sings to herself, running out of the room with a sudden enthusiasm.  

Hazel is still staring at you.

You shrug. “How do I look?” 

Like a lamb to slaughter.

“You… look different,” She says. “I don’t mean it’s bad. It’s good. But it’s also…” 

“I know,” you sigh, sitting beside Hazel’s bed. “A true depiction of Capitol beauty.”

“It could be worse,” Hazel starts. “We could be naked and covered in soot for the opening ceremony.” 

You laugh, knowing that the only thing District 12 is known for are coals. And there’s not many costumes you can be inspired by coals. Hazel smiles at your laughter, feeling instantly better. It’s a sound she hasn’t heard since the forest, as if a piece of home has been brought back to life. Although the room is cold and metallic, there’s warmth in between the two of you. 

Her gaze lingers on your transformed appearance. With the grime and dirt from the District rubbed off, you seem so fragile, so innocent, so out of place in the cruelty of the Capitol. None of you belong in that arena. And all of a sudden anger rises in Hazel. She wants the Capitol to burn. She wants the Capitol to burn for what it does to innocent lives like yours. 

Your laughter eases and you’re left staring back at Hazel. The forest and the Capitol are vastly different places. Even the silence is different. Back there, it was a pleasure to be silent. Here, silence is almost sickening. Still, your warmth persists.

“I’m serious about winning," You say.  

Hazel holds your gaze. 

“I know.” 

She offers her hand. You take it. And for a long time, neither of you speak. You just breathe and cling to each other, lost in a moment that's become heavier with your words.

There is a brief pause before the full effect of everything comes barreling towards Hazel. She ignores it.

Instead, Hazel thinks about dying.

Next Chapter: Anger

(Guys I don't know how a taglist works so just comment "Tag me next chapter or" "tag me in all upcoming chapters" on THIS POST if you want to be tagged ok???)

@vster0769 @milktea-academia <333

[shutupheathersorryheatherr]

"Bakery ownerKai! Smutty hcs:"

✰---Summary: you pass this new bakery so often. and from what you can tell from just through the windows, it's full of cheer and life. whoever uses it makes the most of the small space. their personality really shines through in the decorations and the desserts looked good and well... you couldn't deny that the baker with the apron and the broad shoulders looked good in there as well. so you decide to stop in. but this is only the beginning: now he smiles when he thinks of you and your cute interaction together, hoping you'd come back and then soon enough... you do.

✰--- approx: 20 min read

✰---A/n: idk if these are considered hcs anymore lol here's a fic to hopefully tide over y'all while I finish up on that much much longer one for Vernon. may or may not turn this into a full fic OR just another hc post. probably the second because of the Vernon fic coming out perhaps in two chapters. andI feel as if this would just be better in "hc " format. (Maybe some header images coming soon idk) trying to make my fics prettier do y'all like the life stars?

✰---warningz/info: cursing I think, lots of talk of eating and desserts, smutty, Kai jerks off, I have a little brake telling you where the NSFW starts, reader has boobs but otherwise is gn I think. and that’s about it.

~this is simply a piece of fiction. My imagination onto “paper.” This is in no way is mean to be taken as an actual and real representation of anyone.~

if you don’t have an age indicator saying you’re not a minor in your blog then I will be blocking you! So minors dni!!

••••••••••••••••••••••••

Bakery owner!Kai who whips his head around spilling chocolate on the floor when he hears your voice for the first time. He has just opened the shop, it was a hole in the wall and cutesy— plushies and Pokémon character figurines on the shelves, stuff like that. You saw it then you saw him. With his powdered sugar dusted apron from the doughnuts this morning. And in this moment he realizes how very, extremely, dank he looks right now. His eye bags are dragging down his face like circles of hell, he hadnt had time to do much anything about it this morning. His hair isn’t really done. He had slept through his first alarm (something he hasn’t done is forever) and had to get here, to make the stupid doughnuts early because well, he’s the only worker here. Ugh why did I have to conserve on money this way? He thought to himself. The bowl clatters with a reverberating and embarrassing clang. He cringes, quickly going to pick it up as you greet him so so so cutely he thinks his heart will explode.

Bakery owner!Kai who’s blush on his cheeks looks so adorable to you you have half a mind to tell him. You’d Been passing this shop for days but you’d finally gotten a chance to go in this morning. He’d never know, but you’d looked into your phones selfie camera to fix your appearance one last time before going in after taking a deep breath. And you smile at the way he endearingly shares the story of how he got the shop with you.

Bakery owner!Kai who somehow feels so comfortable with you quickly when you ask about the weird names for all his desserts. He says it’s a long story and you tell him you’ve got all the time in the world for it. And he smiles wide and your knees go weak. And then because of the air of the shop you carried in with you when you set foot into the place or vibe you give off he doesn’t know but he just blabbers on and on about why he named the desserts what he did

◆◆◆◆◆nsfw under the cut◆◆◆◆◆

Bakery owner!Kai who hopes and prays that you’ll be back. and that night he can’t get you out of his head. oh no.... he really can't. and he almost feels bad when the thought of you and your sweet as sugar smile is being tossed around in his mind, making his stomach do flips as his weeping cock is dripping onto his fist. and he just can't.... stop. not that he wants to. hes pretty sure your imagine is burned in his mind till the day he dies... ok, maybe a little over exaggerated but you get the point. but now he can't think. his mind his clouded with how he should've invested in more business cards. so he could've given you one and maybe suavely told you to call him if you ever had a sugar emergency

ok... that was a little cheesy so maybe not. but who the hell knows, maybe you'd like it?! he'd gone over that small interaction you two had that day-- wondering, even though it was all a blur, how he made you feel; comfortable? at ease? oh, he hopes so. even the way he handed the box to you, with a free pastry in there as well, of course, tied with his best, perkiest ribbon all neatly. he wanted to make sure it was perfect for you. even if he never saw you again, even if you both forgot in a weeks time. he wanted to make a good impression while he had the chance.

he even worried about how the pastry tasted. though, he was confident in his skills with his passion he couldn't help but think about it all the rest of that day. which... when he though about it... seemed lonely without you in his shop. was it a good texture? flavors balanced enough? not the slightest hint of staleness? he made sure to grab one from the back of the display counter to make sure.

"you must really wanna see them again?" his friend joked "youre in looooveeee"

Bakery ownerKai! who, when he says that, rolls his eyes at Beomgyu, the friend with powdered sugar caked on his face thicker than he could grow his own beard to be. who was sitting at his table, getting crumbs all over it with the weird way he was sitting.... with his feet... all over the booth. Not even with shoes on! just bare feet. which kai honestly didnt mind much. he lets his friends eat here when hes closing up and nobody's around all the time. they'll usually clean out the couple things here and there that didnt sell and would've been thrown away anyways.

so when he drops his broomstick, almost shrieking, whisper yelling at Beomgyu to get his feet off the furniture, his friend at question is a little bit confused but does it anyway.

Baker ownerKai! who's nonchalant and laughing at his friends comment shaking his head and thinking to himself: no no, thats not true. pfff this guy is outta his mind! that was... until he saw you walk in again. "hello! I know you're closing in like--" you check your phone, "five minutes. but would you mind? that dessert I got a bit back was so good I had to literally run here from work to get the same one." he nods, smiling. and Beomgyu sits up straight in his seat at the way you two are just sitting there.... looking at each other for just a little too long. Kai swiftly drops down to pick up the broom he had dropped before leading you to the counter.

"sorry about that. I was just setting up traps for any burglars, but I trust you'll pay right?" he chuckles and you laugh along with him. "if I didnt pay then id never be able to have any more of this delicious delicacy, am I right?" you joke back. he nodes and keeps up his very much not customer service smile and gets you the dessert he remembers giving you in a box. "aw thank you!" he places the tongs down into the sink "thats really sweet of you! was it that good?" he turns back around to face you, closing up the box and you can't help but stare at the way his hands flex when his nimble fingers are pushing that box closed.

you realize youre taking too long to respond, "no seriously, it was!" you lean excitedly on the counter, bouncing on your heels. "and thats why I had to come back for more., and why I need to pay and leave a generous tip" you chuckle, already counting out the cash for the little doughnut shaped tip jar. "or maybe I could just give it to you for free!" his back is turned, snipping a stand of that pretty expensive ribbon he used especially for yours last time and made sure to move towards the front of the ribbon rack in case you came back so that he'd reach it easily.

"wait? what? no! youre joking right?" he spins back around to you, smirk on his face. "not in the slightest." he chirps. then hands you the box. you stuff your tip in the jar. "no seriously! please, take the money." you weren't worried that he now might think you owe him, he seemed to nice for that. "and im serious too. its like one pastry. you'd be taking it off my hands and doing be a favor actually if you'd like to think of it that way that is. not that is isn't fresh." he shrugged. hes leaning in over the counter a little bit, apron bumping the iPad customers would use to pay. you open your mouth to say something but he stops you "you already tipped me! even if you didnt just take it. my treat."

you didnt know it but in his mind he was already dreaming of having one ready every week for when you came in. maybe a sticky note with his number one day too? "wow thanks so much! thats so sweet of you!" you hold the box closer to you and look down at it.

you also didnt know it, but hes his half hard cock is now pressed up against the cabinet under the counter. and hes trying not to imagine you with powered sugar on your nose... not a very sexual sight in itself he guesses, but something cute none the less and that won't do his situation any good. hes also trying not to think of you licking your fingers after the delicious dessert, or the way youre leaned over the counter even more now, giving him a perfect vantage point of your plush boobs that after accidentally seeing a peak of once he wants to never do so again.

hes mature, or at least needs to be about this. not that he doesn't want to. cause god he really wants to take a sneak peak down. who wouldn't? youre sweet and gorgeous, and funny! but he wants you to know who he really is. so thats why hes currently focusing really hard on your eyebrow and trying so damn hard not to even glance down in that general direction. even if he was doing something entirely different than peaking.... cause thats what gentleman does.

"wait how'd you know my order?"

and now hes back on earth. he scratches the back of his neck. "I uh" "were you hoping id be back?" you smile, obviously meaning it' as a joke. but he just smiles back "bakers memory," he taps his brain, "there a lot up here ya know. gotta remembers recipes and stuff" he takes it as a win cause it was a good distraction. you take it as a win cause he kinda just called you important... right?

you dont pay and see yourself out. as youre opening the door you sniff the box "ugh smells so good! can't wait. thanks again!" and just like that youre gone

Bakery ownerKai! who's friend who is usually such a yapper, is at a loss for words for a second after you leave until he simply says: "I get the feeling you'll be seeing them a lot"

~end~

I’m gonna do a part two/ make this into a full on fic eventually. Just wanted something to post until I finish the bigger fic I’m working on. If you liked it please leave some love like comments or a reblog!

Thanks for reading <3

Taglist: @bamtorin

[hiatusdeity]

🍏 anon!!! Thinking about the qsmp. That's it. That's the ask /j

-qsmp!reader being an egg protector/egg-babysitter, kinda like badboyhalo, but they're much more..violent about how they protect the eggs/kids.

>Quackity's trying to get Tallulah again? Qsmp!reader has fucking spidey sense from halfway across the island and is by Tallulah's side in three seconds top.

>Maybe they're super protective over the kids because they never got to have one of their own, or their kid got unfairly killed by the binary codes or something. Just anything to give them that fire to fight for the kids?!

>Even for some drama, the reader has been known to be able to kill the binary codes (source: just trust me) They're known to be a fucking menace if anything/anyone dare tries to hurt the kids 🧑‍🔧

anon i could litwrally kiss you this is so good, such a good concept for like a fic or story. i’ll do some bullet points of headcanons and maybe a short story, may also revisit this in the future!

QSMP!Reader

- the angst from having lost their own egg would be gut wrenching. and i know exactly how it would’ve happened. they weren’t able to take care of their egg for a day, and had asked everyone on the server to take care of them. to do their tasks. except that an event happened, perhaps the new arrivals, or an argument or affair. and your poor little baby was forgotten. tucked into a bed they would never wake up from.

-you can image the grief, logging on to clean up the house and to wake up your little sunshine. only to find they are not moving, they are stone cold, no sign of life emits from them. and you wonder, what went wrong? how could someone be so selfish, so horrible, to let a defenceless baby die? it must’ve been hours that you sat there, with shaky arms to gather your dead child. you held them for hours, praying for a miracle, a heartbeat to reappear, a breath to escape them. but no matter how long you waited, heaving with sobs as the egg in your arms stayed deadly still, they never woke up.

-resentment was the most prominent emotion you felt, in fact, it didn’t wash away or falter for months. everyone forgot. they could’ve been saved, helped, so easily, if people weren’t so wrapped up in each other. you refused to speak to anyone who was active that day.

-months seemed to rot away, time was a fickle thing, and in your own distorted realm of time, your bed became your resting place. lack of eating and drinking, nothing had much of a purpose anymore, that was until there was a visitor at your door. not many did visit, considering a lot of them weren’t allowed near your home after what happened. with a huff you had descended down your stairs, not seeing anyone when you glanced through your door peep hole. cautiously you had opened the door, and the breath got knocked out of you. hot burning grief punched you in the stomach at the sight before you. a little egg, who was clearly lost.

-your instincts had kicked in, you could control this, you could help. with not much thought you knelt down, eye level with the small child, “hey kid, looks like you’re lost, is that right?” you spoke gently, even though your head was screaming and your heart felt like it had been ripped out your chest for the second time. at the girl’s nod, you offered your hand. “we’d better fix that, who are your parents..?” you finished the sentence, realising you hadn’t even asked for the kid’s name.

-the kid hastily scribbled “wilbur” onto a notepad.

-Ah, the kid was tallulah, you remembered her pretty well because of how bitter you felt at her arrival. a kid just randomly found? and for a father who didn’t even want her at first. But as she stood in front with you, your throat clogged up with regret, you could never hate or resent the girl. “i know wilbur, that’s fine.” you reassured with an affirmative nod, “how about you get on my shoulders and we look for him?” you offered, surprised at how trusting tallulah was as she went into your arms, it made your heart ache. as you set her comfortably on your shoulders, you started walking towards the area you knew wilbur resided in.

-Tallulah was pretty far out. “hey tallulah?” you began curiously, at her nod, you asked the question that had been practically burning you. “how’d you get so lost? it’s pretty far.”

-Tallulah hastily wrote on her notepad, you waited patiently, in fact, the scratching of pencil was familiar and brought comfort. you collected the paper with one hand, the other still firm, but gently keeping ahold of tallulah’s leg. me and pa found this pretty place, i accidentally stepped on a warp plate and i was then near you, pa probably didn’t notice the warp plate.

-the lump in your throat somehow got bigger, oh, you knew what that warp plate was. it was your kid’s favourite place, they had demanded a warp there because they loved it so much. tears welled up in your eyes, and you had to choke them back, not here, not in front of tallulah. “you’re, you’re dad must be worried then.” you rushed out, trying to clear your watery vision.

-after a couple of hours of walking, you had made it near wilbur’s house, and it was no surprise that you could see multiple people yelling out the girl’s name. anger flourished in your gut briefly, of course, of course everyone on the server would put their lives and time on the line to save an egg, any egg but yours. “we’re close now, seems like everyone’s been looking for you.” you spoke softly, and then realised tallulah had been asleep for a while, softly snoring into your hair, one hand gently wrapped in your curls and the other dangling from your shoulder. you had missed this. you had missed it so much.

-as you approached, a couple of faces recognised you, their eyes immediately cast to the ground in shame, but their double takes of seeing tallulah made them call for wilbur. The tall man emerged from his house, looking dishevelled and frantic, you had felt that way too. his eyes locked on Tallulah and he practically ran, “darling? is that you? what did you to her, i swear if she’s hurt.” you scoffed, patting tallulah so she’d wake up, groggily she did. the nerve of this guy, he clearly didn’t know you would never do what the rest of the server did.

-“she’s fine. maybe keep better watch of your kid before you blame me.” you spat, feverishly taking her off your shoulders and passing her to wilbur, he was taken aback by your words, but his eyes softened at the sight of his daughter unharmed. tallulah had grabbed at her father’s face in delight, shortly taking a second to write on her paper once again. pa, they saved me! they kept me safe <3

-with confirmation from his daughter, he nodded gratefully at the stranger, his eyes apologising for assuming the worst. as you went to walk away, he called after you, “wait. i know i can trust you, if i’m ever gone and can’t take care of her, could you?”

-it was a stab in the gut, and you couldn’t help the tears that fell from your eyes, maybe it was strange to him, but this felt like a second chance and a mockery at the same time. with a choked voice, you muttered a “yes.” and warped home, where you had cried endlessly until the morning.

-after a while, it seemed the server had labelled you a protector of some sorts. if anyone went exploring with their egg, you went, sometimes just lurking in the background in case things went wrong. When parents couldn’t be there for their kids, you took on the role of almost a god parent, coddling the babies happily.

-and everyday you thought of what could’ve been. things were mostly peaceful on the island, but one day the air shifted. a wonderful egg called bobby had lost a life to a monster, a monster made of numericals. the island was no longer safe, and if they were going to attack with monsters and ghouls and otherworldly creatures, you wanted to make them wish they never stepped foot on the island.

-you had set up warps to each main location, some near houses that were far away. you had given each member and egg a walkie-talkie, being stern that if ever they were in trouble, you would be there. the island grew dark, and the eggs were scared, but you wouldn’t let them feel that way for long.

-the next time the monster of code attacked, you were babysitting a few of the eggs, chayanne, tallulah and leonarda. you were stargazing, sat on a red and white picnic blanket while the kids tried (and failed) to name constellations. you had heard static, and your eyes sharpened, focusing in on a green light in the forest ahead. quietly you had gotten the children’s attention, swiftly handing them all totems and golden apples, you had kept your eyes trained on the beast coming out from the trees. “if anything goes wrong, you warp to my place okay kids? no arguments.” you instructed, they had hesitantly nodded, finally noticing the problem before them.

suddenly the binary code had dove in, targeting Leo and Tallulah. you saw red, hot fury coated your limbs, with seemingly little effort you had pulled the code off of them. “in your dying breaths i want you to realise, you never stood a chance.”

you deflected it’s attacked with uncontrolled rage, it’s fighting began to get frantic, realising your onslaught would not stop until you dropped dead on the ground from exhaustion. it moved to fly away, but you lurched forward and clenched your fist around a wing, sadistically ripping it off. with the binary caught off guard, you plunged your sword through its chest, blood spurting everywhere, and a crazed look in your eyes. with relief, with the satisfaction of winning, you spat on the dying thing.

-silently, you wiped the blood off you, turning to the kids that had their mouths open in shock. they had cheered and went to hug your legs, “nope nope, you might get blood on you and your dads will not be happy with me if that happens.” you smiled, gesturing for them to teleport to your house, so you could get changed and tuck them into bed, they were having a sleepover after all.

“Quackity.” your voice was deadly, you had a feeling, it was the dead of night and you had bolted to wilbur’s house. “get away from that bed or i swear i will kill you as many times as it takes for you to disappear permanently.” you had growled, pouncing forward before he could use his weapon on the sleeping girl, he was now pressed up against the wall, your axe held snugly against his bare throat.

“woah woah! i wasn’t actually going to do it i swear.” he breathed in a panic, putting his hands up in surrender, his weapon clanking on the floor. you kicked the sword away, eyes slit as you watched the pathetic man cornered.

“i’ll be real with you Quackity.” you started firmly, opting to try and change his view. “my kid, i trusted that someone would take care of them too. i understand the anger, how dare everyone still be happy right?”

he nodded, trails of tears streaming down his face silently. “right. and it hurts so much, because it wasn’t your fault, you trusted people and they failed you. and you can get mad at people all you want, you can fight them, kill them.” you affirmed, starting to release the grip on him. “but the kids are innocent. they are defenceless, and tilin, or even my baby, would never want us to hurt their siblings in revenge.” your watery eyes looked into his brown ones, you let him go, storing your axe in your backpack.

Quackity had sat in the chair, close to where he’d been held. “Tilin would never forgive me if i killed his family.” he cried, “i can’t believe i almost did that, im such a terrible person i’m so-“

you reached out, clasping his shoulder. “don’t.” you offered your hand, walking him out of the house before giving him a tight hug. “grief makes us do things, bad things, weird things. grief can change you.” you pulled back from the embrace, relief flooding you as you saw the maliciousness dissipate from his body. “it’ll be okay one day.”

but as you said that, the both of you said nothing as your own tears ran down. maybe it wouldn’t be.

but you had a purpose.

A/N (author’s note): i feel like i put my whole ass into this piece goddamn. i really enjoyed this concept and it’s not often i find myself getting lost in writing, a lot of the time writing is so hard for me, but this one flowed really well :)

as always, my green apple anon delivers wonderful stuff, and thank you so much for the support anon, and all my anons and people who boost my posts.

reason why they couldn’t just teleport back is because in my head, warping can really tire people, and can especially tire eggs, so tallulah might’ve been at risk if she had teleported back, and the fact she was with a stranger and not a parent, you need to feel certain when warping.

i didn’t want to give the egg a name just in case i never continued this, but i’m naming it anyway, the egg was called otto. and their accessory/trademark would’ve been a flower crown yesyes.

[gblogg]

Hi G! For a mini fic, how about a female oc of your choosing getting food poisoning on a date and their partner has to help them find a place to throw up? Like maybe they're walking around and need to find a private park or parking lot or something! Thank you!

Thank you for the request, Lis! I'm so sorry that it took me this long. Also, I went a little overboard with this because it was so fun to write, so it's probably not a mini fic anymore, lol. Anyways, this is my first fic on Rose and Ezme. Enjoy!

"You ready?" Rose asked as she walked over and wrapped her arms around her girlfriend, who was fixing her hair in the mirror.

Ezme smiled as their eyes met in the mirror. "Mhm, I just don't like my hair. It won't cooperate." She frowned and dropped her hands at her side. Rose furrowed her brows, confused.

"It looks fine, darling," she said, kissing the top of her head. "I always love your hair, ma chèrie," she added, walking away. Ezme grinned and nodded, smoothing down her top and following.

They had made it to the restaurant, and Ezme had picked a Thai restaurant for them to eat at. She had ordered most of the menu because she wanted to try everything, since it was their first time trying it.

"Are you not hungry?" Ezme asked, as she noticed that Rose had hardly touched her food. Rose must've zoned out, as she was snapped back into reality hearing Ezme's voice.

She started scraping the food around on her plate. "Hm?" She answered, "What did you say?" A hiccup jolted her body, and Ezme raised her brows.

"I said, are you not hungry?" Rose didn't look up, and Ezme touched her hand. "You feeling okay, baby?" Rose sighed, looked up. Her face had become slightly pale, and she was sweating.

"Yeah, I feel fine," Ezme didn't believe her for one minute. She always knew when her girlfriend wasn't feeling well. She squinted her eyes and started monitoring her carefully.

"You know I don't believe you, right? You can't lie to save your life, babe." Rose looked her in the eyes for a second and gave up, seeing her piercing glare. She looked away and leaned back against the chair, sighing.

She burped into her fist, feeling the relief of not having to lie or hide how bad she felt. "I think the lunch I ate was bad or something," Ezme's sharp gaze softened as she realised just how bad the other woman felt.

"Are you nauseous?" Ezme's question was answered with a grimace and a nod. Rose placed her head on the table, shutting her eyes and exhaling slowly. The nausea she had been feeling since lunch was starting to increase, leaving her with this disgusting feeling in her stomach. She moaned as the silence was interrupted with a gurgle, loud enough for them both to hear.

She jumped up suddenly, her face had dropped another two shades. She muffled a wet burp against her hand and shut her eyes. Ezme turned her head and looked at her girlfriend, concerned. "What -" Before she could finish, Rose darted to the bathroom.

Ezme immediately followed her to the bathroom, concerned. She figured that Rose hardly made it as she heard liquid hit liquid and her girlfriend coughing. She found her crouched in front of the toilet with one shaky hand against the wall. Ezme's heart ached as this was a miserable image.

Rose burped up more chunky liquid into the bowl, and Ezme made a face as she heard her girlfriend make a strangled noise when more vomit forced its way up her throat, choking her. Ezme shushed her and rubbed her back as she noticed the tears streaming down Rose's face. She sniffled and wiped her hand across her mouth.

"Here baby, blow your nose." She had a piece of toilet paper in her hands, and Rose grabbed it, sniffling again.

She dropped against her girlfriend and took a deep breath before talking. "I'm sorry, I ruined our date," Ezme shook her head, dismissing her choice of words. She moved her bangs out of her face, looking down at her face.

"You just puked like crazy and you're worrying about the stupid date? I'm more worried about you right now, love." Ezme smiled as her girlfriend snuggled against her lap.

Ezme patted the top of Rose's head, "Okay, we have to get off this disgusting bathroom floor." Rose groaned and nodded slowly, agreeing. Ezme stood up and pulled Rose up off the ground, catching her as she started swaying.

They were walking back to the parking lot when Rose suddenly stopped, bracing her hands against her knees, moaning. Ezme stopped at her side, touching her back and rubbing in circles. "You gonna throw up again?" Ezme already knew the answer to that question but asked anyway. She gently pulled Rose's hair back. Without warning, Rose brought up a huge gush of vomit, which made a terrible noise coming up, causing Ezme to hold back a gag.

Rose gasped for breath as a horrible hiccup sent up another splash of liquid, joining the mess already in front of her. Rose coughed, feeling her throat burn. Ezme furrowed her brows, feeling a twinge of guilt as she couldn't do anything to help her poor girlfriend. "Holy shit baby, there's no way you can still have anything left. You're done."

Rose burped emptily and straightened up, with a hand on her stomach. "Fuck.. I'm never eating at that place again." She burped again, spitting out the saliva pooling her mouth threatening to set off her stomach again.

Ezme nodded, "I wouldn't imagine you eating there again anyway, baby. Now, can we please move away from this.. masterpiece?" She gestured towards the pool of vomit infornt of them, smiling.

"You don't appreciate my art?" Ezme rolled her eyes, and they both laughed, walking towards the car.

[alicerosejensen]

OK. I did it anyway! Finished the translation and tried as best he could. Part 3

I have a lot of debt, but I did it!

Good ending attached. If you like the bad ending of this story then please stop at 2 parts.

There's also a bit of angst here, a mention of smut.

I listened to a bunch of songs while writing this. In fact, there was a gigantic temptation to make Leon's girlfriend run away again, but I decided to fix the broken hearts of readers.

English is not my native language (I will write this as often as possible so that I don't get tomato thrown at me for mistakes). But I tried.

The text is quite large. I do not know if anyone has the strength to master it.

All efforts crumbled like a house of cards. All hopes that your relationship could still be saved were destroyed from the very day when you finally left, taking one suitcase with you.

For Leon, it was still an idiotic comedy that dragged on for a long time. He kept calling, texting, trying to talk to you about this misunderstanding. But you just cut him out of your life right away, without even giving him an attempt to explain everything.

But the comedy turned into a nightmare. Because Leon realized that you really left. A rather dirty game: to become the one who gave him peace and true love, and then in one second set fire to a small flowering island in his soul, leaving ashes behind.

Leon let you get too close to him. So close that he began to consider you his own. At some point, it even seemed to him that no one could love the way he loved you. But now you have turned the blue sky into black, discarding it as an unnecessary thing. Sometimes, stretching out his hand, lying on the bed, Leon woke up, thinking that since you are not around, then you are in the kitchen. You probably eat breakfast while looking at your phone.

But then he remembered.

You've gone. With tears, creating from his image a monster that hurt you throughout the relationship. You have done worse than Ada. It was a hundred times more painful. Leon knows it's crazy, but for just one night with you, he would give his life.

The only woman who has always been on his side. He wanted to feel the soft cotton of your gray T-shirt, but only your hands could be more gentle.

You have always been so pure that the world could be silenced by such innocence and angelic beauty. All the stars could go out if only something happened to you. You are a rare angel, in whose arms nothing hurts, who descended to him, to the last sinner, constantly fighting in an endless hell. Maybe someone decided that he received too much grace?

Leon would agree with that. But he's not ready to accept it. You said that you love him, despite the fact that he supposedly has feelings for Ada, and if he can convince you otherwise, then perhaps his beloved will return to him

But you didn't want to be in that cage. The whole situation with Leon, in your opinion, resembled the plot of Dolly Parton's song "Jolene", where Jolene is Ada Wong, whom you could beg not to take your lover. After all, as Jolene, Ada was the embodiment of an unearthly ideal. With a voice as soft as summer rain and with a smile like the breath of spring… Ha, you grinned remembering the words of the song.

What could you, a simple student, compare to this Ada-Jolene? Leon kept her compact in his bedside table and you still feel the reproach of envy that you will never become such a woman. You still cry when you think how many times he imagined an elusive mercenary in your place. But your happiness does not depend on Ada. You were able to find the strength to open the birdcage and run out to freedom, breathing in fresh air.

Leon used you. Crushed your heart into a piece of paper and threw it into the fire like the last scoundrel. But here you took out a burnt ember, intending to take care of it and already now you see that the first sprouts of trust in other men break into the light. However, love is not knocking at your door yet.

Because there is one huge problem: no matter how much pain Leon caused you, you want to leave him in your memories. Salty rivers of tears flow down your eyes almost every night, forcing you to curl up in the fetal position with your hands pressed to your chest when you read his messages. These are such ruthless blows that literally destroyed your soul. He's already traumatized you enough, so why doesn't he stop it already?!

The whole body and soul are screaming: help me! And the mind doesn't want to forget his fucking name and touch. You can't go back to Leon Scott Kennedy because he will bring nothing but evil. Say to yourself and remember forever: goodbye, my love for this man, because my heart can no longer bear this sick love.

You met in the spring and broke up in the spring. How much joy and sadness this time of year has brought you!

How much pain there is in the world, and all because of fucking love.

But for Leon it was completely different.

It was the middle of the day, when the sun was still high in the sky, promising to illuminate the streets with its light for at least another three or four hours. Late autumn time, Leon didn't want to get out of his mostly, alcohol-smelling apartment, but he had to write a report and hand it over to Hannigan, despite the overdue deadlines. To gather his thoughts a little for an answer, Leon went into a nice cafe, hiding from the strong wind, hoping that in addition to all kinds of desserts, he could order coffee to take away.

Ordinary strong coffee without sugar and hopes that it will not taste like bile.

The arrival of a new visitor was announced by a ringing bell, to the ringing of which the waiter immediately raised his head from his business. Leon was not going to linger, he walked past the tables with a few visitors until the familiar smell of women's perfume hit his nose.

And stopped.

He forgot about everything: Hannigan, the report, his job. About everything that brought him pain from your departure, because right now you were sitting with your back to him in a warm beige dress, holding a glass with some kind of drink with one hand and writing something in your notebook with the other pen, completely ignoring anyone.

All Leon wanted at this very second was to grab you in his arms and never let you go again.

How did this even happen? Why did you, loving him dearly, renounce him in an instant?

And yet your mere presence lifts him from the thorn-strewn earth. Only a meter separated you from each other, but Leon is already burning to the ground. It didn't matter if you were an angel or a demon, you were his love. His restless bird that flew away from him because it could. Because you believed he could still love another woman.

You look like two fools, each of whom believes in his own truth.

You were so serene, calm and nondescript to others. Strawberry ice cream almost melted from lack of your attention or you just didn't find it tasty enough to finish. Leon completely forgot why he came to this cafe. Illuminated by the evening sunlight, you looked like a work of art that you were so fond of.

A slight smile, careless strokes of a strange drawing in a notebook…you looked tired and a little thinner, but for him you remained the most beautiful. Aesthetic - Leon remembers that you like this word.

Did he have the right to disturb you? Like a mirage, Leon didn't want to scare away the one he loved because he knew if he touched you now, you would disappear again. Messages, calls - there were many of them and not one received a response.

If his love really brought you so much suffering, do you need it? Is he really that selfish? But now you tensed up, feeling someone else's gaze on your back, and as if small droplets of crystals began to beat anxiously against each other like wind music warning about who you are desperately trying to get out of your head.

But there was no soulful cry of "run."

You knew he was there. Behind. The heart did not stop with horror - it trembled with excitement. God, don't turn around! So much was lost because of Leon: dreams, hopes, trust, heart…

The palette of the endless emptiness of weekdays turned into slightly brighter colors.

Leon touched your shoulder and you shuddered lifting your head up. It was impossible to ignore this meeting and there was nowhere else to run. His touch was so welcome. The body responded to him by itself, trying to cling closer to feel the forgotten warmth. It was so good.

Suddenly you felt like a drug addict who received a long-awaited dose of the drug.

The purest buzz.

You still didn't say anything, just stared into those diamond eyes, completely losing yourself. By looking at it, you can experience all kinds of death. You wanted to finally surrender to him, submit and accept the inevitable, and then fall asleep in a tight embrace - all for the sake of the illusory hope of not being number 2.

What idiot said that time heals? There wasn't a night or a day when you didn't think about him.

You want to tell everyone to go to hell, and yourself first, because you're the last fool. A proud fool who can't live without him. Damn pride. Leon took a step forward, swallowing loudly, grabbing your shoulder with his other hand, but it didn't hurt. He looked at you as if he was afraid that you would melt into thin air.

You love each other very much, and each of you thinks that one of you does not love the other.

In an instant, everything collapsed in November. Leon knelt down, still squeezing your shoulders. Curse this month. He pressed you to him and you buried your face in his shoulder, inhaling the smell of a leather jacket and barely perceptible cologne. The stubble scratched the skin unpleasantly, but now these sensations were so pleasant.

If Leon doesn't disappear right now, it's going to be the worst month on the calendar. An unhappy month that will leave another stab wound. Your first true love and not a stupid infatuation…Whatever Carey says, it's impossible to forget Leon. There is no longer the strength to drown in it, grasping at a thin thread of feeling.

"Let's talk" - you're definitely a drug addict. His voice was like heroin causing euphoria. Rough and stringy at the same time. The infernal rejection started from him again.

The waiter's voice sounded like a soft soprano, and Leon reluctantly pulled away from you, but did not let go, as if he was afraid that you would jump up from your seat and run away, grabbing your coat. The lungs let out a heavy sigh, but you didn't want to talk to him. It was as if you were afraid that he would have words that would make you return to this anarchy of abnormal relationships. When he loves one woman and sleeps with a completely different one.

"I don't want to, go away," - you whispered, pushing him away with your palm. It was a terrible gesture. But you endured for a long time, accepting his lies, running after him like an obedient dog.

Love is not when it hurts you. And he mocks you and jokes, building those puppy dog eyes. He pretends that this separation is also hard for him. As if he wasn't a soulless being who took advantage of the trust of a girl in love with him.

But the idiotic heart keeps shouting to him, "Love me for a long, long time!" and Leon seems to hear him.

Leon grins, feeling butterflies flutter in his stomach. How many bridges can you burn?

But he strokes your head, runs his fingers through your hair.

"We'll just talk. Please stop ignoring me!"

"Stop foaming at the mouth to prove to me that the mysterious spy in red does not live in your head."

Keep your finger on the pulse and run. After paying for lunch, you grabbed your coat and walked briskly to the exit. And only when Leon caught up with you on the street, trying to stop you by grabbing your wrist, you turned into a scorpion who tried to escape using all his poison.

It's the same thing again.

"You're the worst thing that's ever happened in my life!"- that's what you finally shouted out to him along with all the other shit, but it was this phrase that killed him completely. The gaze seemed to read information from your face, as if checking it for truthfulness. The fucking detector gave out the truth.

"Someone like you never knew what love was. You know what's funny? To Ada Wong, you're just a puppet. A toy that she can play with whenever she wants, and then put it on the shelf and forget." - You poured out your burning poison, turning words into caustic acid to kill him once and for all, despite your tear-stained face. - "That's enough! I will never forgive you! Run after your elusive spy and leave me alone. I deserve to be happy. I'm already broken inside by your fucking love!"

It wasn't fair. You just tore him apart with those words. He's never even half loved you, he's never compared you to anyone! But nothing will bring you back to him. You will no longer illuminate his pitch darkness with your light. Leon really felt like a bastard who trampled on someone who loved him.

He stood there, looking after you, listening to your hysterical sobs, while you ran away again to lick the wounds inflicted. It seemed like you were about to fall to the ground and die from all this pain. All those months that you have not seen him, in no way helped you to stop loving this man. Because things have only gotten worse.

You wanted to lie down and die. Everything you were rebuilding exploded again, turning you into ruins. Ada Wong would never have allowed herself to do that. But the pain you felt became physical. Your head is spinning, the world has become so crazy and alien, sickeningly disgusting, because all the protective mechanisms of orgasm just fail you after all the continuous work. You just screamed from all the injustice that happened to you, and the name of this injustice was Leon S.Kennedy. The fucking bastard who caused you to fall into the mud, acting like an escaped lunatic.

"I hate you," - Leon heard it. The most terrible thing is that he realized that he was destroying you. Your body was experiencing physical pain - spasms, and you already needed professional help. And yet he cradled you like a baby in his arms until you fainted.

One thing you didn't have time to say: despite the fact that you were burning alive, your stupid little heart continues to seek salvation in Leon. It hurts her, but she calls him for help, begging for caring kisses and warm hugs.

What does it feel like to be a girl with a sensitive heart and a brave soul? The moment you discovered that he still loves Ada made you split into many pieces. Lying in a hospital bed, taking medications whose names you don't remember, you heard your mother's muffled crying and fell asleep under it, pulling the blanket over your shoulders, as if under a white noise. Your father stroked your head as if you were a child, slightly dulling the pain that was pounding in your chest.

"You will be sad and forget" - that's what your mother told you when she found out that the cause of the disease was a man. "You won't even remember that you once loved him there."

But you didn't want to forget him. You're so tired of falling asleep thinking about him… because even when you close your eyes like a phantom, you continue to see him. How can you live with this poison in your soul? Leon poisoned you and didn't even send you flowers, considering that he got you into the hospital because of him. And yet part of you was waiting for him to come.

Leon didn't come.

Nervous breakdown on the background of constant stress. Friends also came to find out about your well-being, but only Carey stayed for a long time, trying to pull you out of oblivion, which the brain could not cope with.

She didn't say a word about Leon, fearing that any mention of him would provoke a violent reaction again. Everyone kept saying that everything would be fine and you'd be coming home soon. Did you really feel a little better, but did you feel depressed just thinking about what would happen next? Your beloved friend disappeared as you wanted.

It is in vain to grieve about a failed relationship that was still beautiful, despite the subsequent horror.

"It was wonderful. Goodbye, Leon," you said to yourself when you found a little strength to admit that he is not a monster at all. Time is fleeting, and nothing lasts forever, and you are also unlucky to find happiness in this man.

Drive all thoughts of him away and remember that you are no longer the two of you. Find the strength to learn to live without him and suppressed the passionate feeling of rushing to him under the door banging on it with his fists.

Burn this brand on yourself.

In fact, even in the void can be cozy. When the day of discharge came, your father insisted that you come home again and recover a little from the experience. But you knew that if you came home, you would never erase Leon from your memory. If there was a record with his name on it, you would have listened to it until I broke it.

It's like you've been living in a dark paradise now. There are no medications for memory, but the ones that you started taking clearly muffle all feelings, allowing you to focus on studying. It was quiet and cold in this dark paradise because Leon wasn't there, but you still remembered how your pain-filled body fell to the floor. And yet there was one significant plus that allowed you to live - it was peaceful in this paradise.

And yet, as if you were a lost thing on the shelf, it did not leave you.

November is a really disgusting month. The whole world seemed to be turned upside down. There was the usual calmness with the absence of something important.

But then stability came.

You and Leon don't talk anymore. Apparently, what was said greatly influenced him, but the flowers in your soul still do not bloom. His love for you is still breathing and part of him knows that you love him, but he will prefer to give you a chance to forget him and all the memories associated with him, given how he hurt your soul.

He would like to stay in your life, but not after what he did.

Therefore, he was content with what was left to him. Polaroids from your vacation with him and memories…and some things that you forgot at his place. Meaningless little things, but he kept them. Everyone focused on their lives. You were riding with friends on a bike, exposing your face to the wind, hugging a friend. Leon is back from his work. And everyone missed the other.

But there is no desire to fall into this abyss anymore. Then it was time for healing, it seemed that the impossible was happening, but fate desperately liked to bring your roads together.

Your face is a real masterpiece against the background of daubs. Among the hundreds, Leon noticed you with your bestia when you were choosing some kind of gift, he looked at you from afar.

The cradle of his suffering… Leon feels like he is filled with love for you again, watching you laugh merrily after recovering from all the wounds that he inflicted on you. So cheerful… he had no right to be with you. With the people he values, something happens all the time, but this time he himself is the one who repeatedly stabbed in the back.

You never blamed Ada for your failure, only him, and it was deserved, because until the moment of your loss, Leon still found these meetings… more personal and intimate even if sex between them has not been for a long time. Just something else attracted him, but he would never let ordinary attraction destroy what he really loves.

However, that's exactly what he did. A stupid compact left somewhere in the corner of the bedside table, which he still had from China… you made the wrong conclusions by backing them up with that inappropriate message on his phone and it was still enough to leave him forever. But now you were laughing and it warmed Leon, how he wants to hear this sound again at home, along with numerous words of tenderness.

It was not worth looking at you for so long because some force pulling each other forced you to find this gaze from which you can die and rise again. Everything beautiful has remained very far away. None of you will say a simple "hello" to the other, and yet why are you silent like fools?

Thanks to the pills, all the senses were dulled a little, allowing a stupid thought to slip into your head - to talk to him.

The doctor prescribed you treatment: medications, rest and moderate physical activity, and somewhere between the lines he wrote in invisible ink "no Leon Kennedy." And you're drowning in this swamp again, violating all the doctor's orders. It doesn't hurt yet, but it's already scary to exhale if you stumble, fall into the water and have to start over.

These silent glances with each other… everyone is afraid to take an extra step, because everything can collapse. Leon doesn't want to be the cause of your tears, he's already brought enough shit to a dear person. Everything beautiful has remained very far away. None of you will say a simple "hello" to the other, and yet why are you silent like fools?

Thanks to the pills, all my senses were dulled a little, allowing a stupid thought to slip into my head - to talk to him. You said a lot to him that day, a lot of things he didn't really deserve, trapping him.

But only now are you wondering: did you notice any moments correctly or did you come up with a reason for leaving? After all, sometimes you could catch the scent of someone else's perfume on his clothes and still believe that there is only him and you. Maybe Ada marked it on purpose so that you could figure out who it really belongs to? What if it was her subtle sign for you?

"Stay away from my territory"

But there was another truth. Your bestie got distracted looking at some jewelry in the window when you watched Leon leave. Have you ever wondered who is a masochist God or is it you? It looks like it was you, because no god forced you to follow him. And Leon felt this persecution, which made him turn around when he saw your indecisive face.

You yourself took a step towards him, and the heart itself began to revive after a long hibernation. The truth is, you had no idea what to say.

It was you who wiped away his tears when he was in too much pain.

It was you who banished all his fears when he woke up in the middle of the night.

You were holding his hand. Not Ada.

"I'm sorry…" You nodded for some reason. - "I'm not… princess… this is a chance meeting. I didn't want to bother you, so you wouldn't think about me.

"I know." - Leon barely heard what you said to him, looking away from his eyes. "I'm sorry for what I said to you then.

"What?" - his reaction made your lips smile with a kind smile that he could not forget. Leon seemed really discouraged, but you just turned around to look at Carey to make sure she wouldn't go crazy when she saw who you were talking to. Definitely, it's all because of the pills.

"I said you were the worst thing that happened in my life, but that's not true. In fact, I only told you a lot because I wanted you to be as hurt as I was. However, I shouldn't have done that. You're a good man. I behaved terribly, like a naughty child."

Leon couldn't understand what had just happened to him. His pupils seemed to widen at the impossible words and your ridiculous apologies. After all, if anyone should be apologizing, it's him, because he drove you to a nervous breakdown. He shook his head, just in case checking to see if you were a figment of his imagination, but you were still standing there. Right in front of him. Was what was happening a prank?

Maybe it's karma?

"You don't have to apologize" - all Leon could squeeze out of himself and you just shrugged your shoulder for a long time without answering anything.

"I apologize for saying too much. It's my fault that I ended up in the hospital, not yours. But I'm not apologizing for that…" Ada's name stuck in throat.

"For leaving?" - Leon grinned when you silently agreed with him. - "At least you had the right to. I don't want to hurt you anymore. You've had enough of me already. "

He wanted to touch you. Just to touch your cheek or hand one last time. He didn't want to let you go, but he knew he couldn't keep around if you didn't want to. Leon snorts, trying to shake off this desire. What kind of kisses can we talk about if you don't love him? All hopes for at least some stability in his life burst like a balloon, and Leon himself held the needle in his hands.

"Thank you for your wonderful attitude!" - You shoot him again, saying these words, and Leon recoils from the one he was so eager to see. - "Even if we didn't succeed, I'm still grateful to you. The last few months have been difficult, but it's my own fault. You didn't promise me anything… I've had time to think. With this Ada, everything is much more complicated and longer for you than with me, and I probably didn't want to admit it to myself. I put on pink glasses and didn't want to see anything but pink shades. You didn't need my heart, and you told me about it at the very beginning, but that's how young she is…" - You laughed nervously, feeling that the effect of the pills seems to be starting to evaporate. - Someone has watched too many movies about love. Forgive me for these tantrums if you can."

Carey screamed loudly and you both turned around at her exclamation when she pulled you by the hand trying to take you away from this man. It even amused you a little, but something still pleased your poor soul more - you were able to admit to yourself that your fault was present in this breakup. Not just Leon.

Leon didn't have time to say a word, but it was in vain for him to be sad. You have forgiven him and yourself. It was the most important event that finally brought a bit of long-awaited relief.

There was only one thing you didn't want to understand, either the brain was using a dirty autosuggestion technique, or it was the pills that dorktor prescribed for you. but the point is this:

Kennedy needed your heart. He needed your love, because everything he had, he had already given to you.

He should have apologized, not you. He wanted to come to the hospital to pick you up, but changed his mind at the last moment, fearing that his presence would complicate the situation. And yet Leon followed you to the exit when Carey shouted at him not to dare approach.

It seems that this is the reason for your separation . The one who hammered into you the idiotic idea that you were his "meat for fucking".

But you are no longer running away from him, however, is it really necessary to break into an already destroyed world again, where he destroyed everything. Leon no longer leaves messages, does not call and does not look for a meeting, and you also began to live quietly feeling only constant fatigue and unwillingness to do anything. And it didn't work out with the guys, there were friends, but it didn't go beyond fun gatherings, even if they tried to flirt.

Looks like your heart still belongs to Leon. For him, it's probably a souvenir, and you have a hole in your chest.

Do you remember that bar where we met for the first time? Now, sitting at the same table, you're looking at the place where Leon was with some damn expensive bottle of whiskey. Without thinking about anything. You straightened your legs and just indulged in sweet memories that no longer caused any harm. It's a little sad, but you're still too young to be disappointed in yourself.

Previously, there was some kind of vigorous cocktail of disappointment, hatred, sadness and contempt inside, but now there is absolutely nothing. It's like you finally got a sobering slap in the face, returning to your former state and admitting that suffering is shit.

Was there any point in talking to Leon? He's probably already broken up with his feeble-minded girlfriend and now he's either found another one or is chasing Ada-their favorite cat-and-mouse game. Of course, he really has some part of your cosmetics left in his apartment, a favorite mug, maybe something else… oh! a notebook. What a stupid thing, because there was nothing important in this notebook except funny drawings and a list of products. Well, maybe something else in small things. Leon probably threw everything away a long time ago.

Although you would like to return the mug.

The mug that he gave you with an idiotic inscription.

You unlocked your phone and saw some excited messages from your father. After quickly answering them, you clicked on Leon's number. Just one click separated you. You could have texted or called, but you spat and just put the phone back in your pocket. It would be necessary to delete his number.

And he still has your damn expensive perfume. It is not like the one used by Ada Wong - her fragrance is dominated by fresh citrus notes combined with something cold. A grenade? You liked calmer floral scents. Lilac and gooseberry have a good aroma.

And you would have torn it off with your own hands. Because the bottle cost a lot of money, and was in a limited collection. For some reason, now you remember him and it became so insulting that you lost such an expensive thing (even if Kennedy bought it for you again). But it's still a damn stupid reason to look for a meeting with him!

In general, you should have been kicked out of his head too. Leon kept your things close on purpose but didn't touch them. One part of him hoped that you would remember them and come to pick them up, and the other party was afraid that then he would have nothing left. The last memories will be gone. He loved flipping through your notebook, finding funny the drawings you made while you were sitting at boring lectures.

He doesn't care, he knows that you liked this perfume, and he also knows that you can't afford such a luxury right now. It's a shitty act to look for a meeting with you again when all the dots are already set.

Even though he wants to see you, can he really let you go later?

However… he wants to write to you. Fingers are already typing a message when an alert with your number and a short phrase appears in front of the screen: Can I pick up some things?

Holy shit! YES!

Leon answered immediately. The usual "yes" despite the fact that everything inside was screaming. A couple of minutes later, another message came asking when you could do it and he wanted to answer in a sarcastic manner, what exactly is for you at any convenient time.

But the line came out the usual "when you want, then take it." Maybe it was a little rude.

Nothing else followed. Leon had no idea when to expect you. Apartment was in terrible condition. In addition, there was your wilted cactus on the computer table. Cactus. Wilted. Maybe because his hostess collected all the belongings and left forgetting him?

Leon didn't know how to take care of him at all. Just poured half-drunk water into a small flower pot, and that's it. The flower that grew on it has long disappeared, and the cactus itself has turned yellow. He turned the pot over in his hand, looking at it from all sides, wondering if it could be fixed somehow in a short time, but decided that if it really upset you, he would buy exactly the same one.

At least to make it up to you a little.

After about an hour of thinking, there was a quiet knock on the door. Leon, casting a cursory glance once again at the unfortunate cactus, let you into the apartment pretty quickly, but you stood there for a few more seconds as if you were afraid to enter the lion's den, which would certainly bite off your head if he crossed the threshold of the apartment.

"Hey," - Your hand waved nervously in the air as a greeting when you were here again, afraid of being captured by your own memories.

Leon only apologized for the mess (although he managed to clean up some things while you were just standing outside the door for about 30 minutes, gaining strength to knock) and offered you tea, knowing how much you love him. A great opportunity to find out what happened to your favorite mug, but you refused first of all by casting a glance at the withered plant.

"I watered him from time to time." He hesitated, scratching his head with his hand. - "Maybe he needed fertilizer, but I didn't know anything about it, especially since it's a cactus!.. Okay sweetheart, just let me buy you a new one or something.

Your laughter slightly diluted the gloomy atmosphere, and Leon clearly felt better.

"It's all right." - A small pot appeared in your hands with the intention of taking it and then throwing it away. - "To be honest, this guy has been sick for a long time. Eventually, he still fell to the death of the brave."

You smiled wearily, making some kind of hero out of a cactus, and your ex-boyfriend also picked up the cheerful mood, lowering his head as he leaned back against the bar, watching his angel take the last thing he had left from this relationship.

Leon compares this to the fact that you gave him the strongest and most beautiful wings when you agreed to be with him. Something truly pure and bright, which allowed him to fight with bioweapons, only for the sake of you and your kind. And now with relentless cruelty you are tearing these wings along with the spine. As the most severe punishment for a mistake.

You silently gather your things, trying not to let your hands shake as Leon watches your actions, fighting the urge to try to stop you again.

Inside, it feels like a guitar string is breaking or sad chords are playing in the soul. One sentence: All gone. You will be left behind, like another experienced chapter of his life, but the fact that the pages of this chapter were full of sincere joy only makes it worse.

Leon's eyes are on the lookout for anything that might help you change your mind. Turn the pages of the book of life a little back and rewrite the plot, correcting this misunderstanding. Although luck is not on his side again.

How to regain lost trust?

It was hardly possible. He could show you those messages from Ada, try to prove that the powder box has been in the trash for a long time, but would you believe him?

He called you by your name as you put the rest of your cosmetics in your bag, thinking that Leon didn't have anything particularly important from your things left. Of course, you turned around meeting with those eyes in which if you look for a long time you can drown, but now only Leon was choking of the two.

"You said then that I didn't promise you anything. it was true, I didn't really make any promises. No vows that I want a family, children and everything else that normal people have, since my work does not imply their presence." - Leon moved to a safe distance so you wouldn't feel uncomfortable. Unlike you, even when under stress, he was well oriented and adjusted to the situation, because your eyes were already watering. - "I don’t understand at all what you saw in me that you fell in love with so much, but it was not non-reciprocal. Maybe I didn't say much, but I meant it. These gifts, trips, dinners in restaurants..."

"In your words, I became like a gold digger who managed to find a rich fool." - You interrupted him with a loud squelching nose.

"What?... oh no! Fuck... I didn't mean it. I just know I screwed up. I have a whole carload of problems that I didn't want and don't want to involve you in. Ada - is in this carload . You are right, a lot connects me with her and the story is very long, but believe me, this is not at all what I really want. When I was 21, it was damn interesting. I was attracted to her for many years until that outbreak in Lanshiang. I won’t lie, we met not only on missions, but also after them; Ada has repeatedly saved and helped me; I will not lie and say that I have never had sex with her, but! There is a huge difference between the usual attraction to each other and really sincere feelings. And you were never fucking meat to me!" - Leon raised his voice, but not to hurt you. These crystal blue eyes resembling ice, no matter how paradoxical it may sound, could melt the heart of anyone. He was the one who could turn you into a puddle in seconds. - "From the moment you agreed to be with me, I had no relationship with Ada other than working. Even in my thoughts. We have our own style of communication - it's true. Flirting and banter, but when you showed up…I didn't need anything else."

"Nevertheless, you have loved her for more than ten years. It's not an attachment anymore, Leon. It's weird that I have to explain this to you." - There was no longer that stone in your chest that prevented you from speaking. You felt like a kind of abbess who reveals the truth to the boy standing in front of you (who was much older). - "We managed to get into all this dirt like this…"

"Was our relationship dirt for you?" - You looked up at him. You could clearly see the experience, pain and sadness. As if what happened broke him completely. Leon frowned, waiting for your long answer. - "I haven't always been open with you, and yes, you deserve a younger guy. Someone from your college or just a nice man your age. But you really were the best episode in my life, despite the fact that things weren't always smooth between us."

"It's not about me" - The lip gloss that you were restlessly twisting in your hands all this time finally fell out, rolling to Leon's feet, as if it was a sign to finally approach him, but you were afraid of getting burned again.- "Understand me… I want to be loved. For real. I'm not a fool either, although you probably think I am…"

"I never thought that about you. Naive, careless - yes. But you always had enough brains."

"Women like Ada Wong… -" you kept trying to ignore Leon's gaze. - "You can't get them out of your head. A kind of fatal beauty, capable of hitting any man to death. Such women have no rivals, and you do not consider it an insult, but she chose you, which means that you belong to her forever. However, you don't mind, do you? If I were you, I wouldn't be able to resist her either."

"Yes… - Leon smiled very unpleasantly, sitting down on the edge of the bed, throwing you your lip gloss, which you managed to catch and throw into a gym bag. - "Manipulation; constant concealment of information; a rather specific concept of "relationship". We've been lovers for a long time-I won't deny it, besides, it doesn't make sense. But I'm telling you the truth: you've become everything to me. As I could, I showed my love and care. Trust me, sweetheart , when you get into the same shit year after year, not knowing if you'll live to see the next day… well, it's a bit tedious. With Ada BEFORE YOU, I had some stability. The stability of our crazy meetings, yes, I had feelings. Until I realized that all this is fucking nonsense and it's not love at all, but an ordinary attachment to a person I've known for many years. And it was never love."

"More than ten years…" - Leon shook his head when you said those words one by one, slowly, as if savoring each. - "If you wanted to stop everything, you would stop it, but she is really a part of you that you will never let go. She occupies a big place in your heart, and I don't want to sit on the bench at all, so that during your next break you come to me. Don't you think it's unfair to me and my feelings?"

You trembled. The nerves began to give up again and the fingertips began to go numb, covered with a sticky cold sweat. Trying to listen to your own feeling, you only heard the frantic beating of your heart and the blood pounding in your ears. In some ways, it resembled a pre-fainting state. Part of you knew that Leon wouldn't do anything wrong, and the other part was terrified of the conversation going on.

You urgently needed to grab something to distract yourself. But most of the things were already in the bag.

On the other hand, it was hard to tell what Leon was thinking. His eyes focused on one point-you. A mixture of misunderstanding, irritation and bitterness in one bottle. He got the feeling that you were trying to convince him to believe your own lies, because during the time that you were together, Leon never gave a reason to think that there was someone third in his life.

But you felt something that you wanted to tell him against your better judgment for a long time. This is what you started falling asleep with when you first started suspecting him of cheating, despite the fact that it was very stupid.

"I thought my love was enough for you and me. I was ready to forgive you for the first mistake, Leon. I thought I could be irreplaceable for you, but now I realize that I'm not her equal."

"God, can you hear yourself?" - Leon ran his hand through his hair pulling it back, sincerely tired of explaining the same thing to you. As if you really were…blunt.

However, he didn't need to tell you, you yourself understood what he was thinking. And yes, it was stupid to come here again. You're really dumb.

"The conversation reached a dead end." - you continued to collect the rest of the things, once again capitulating to him.

"You're leading him to a dead end!" - Leon jumped up from his seat, shouting loudly at the top of his voice. You recoiled to the side, away from his formidable figure, next to which your own seemed very tiny. Your subconscious was still saying "don't be afraid," but your instincts were afraid of any violence. He could scream, he could hit… Leon never did this, it was the lowest act for him to hit another (unless circumstances require it), and disputes were generally resolved by ordinary conversation. You knew he could raise his voice, but Leon chose to leave before he reached boiling point. - "What else do I have to tell you to make you believe me?"

Your heart sank. But stand still. The commanding tone of the inner voice told you to resist, and apparently the small iron makings of your father's character were passed on to you. As a last resort, you quickly glanced towards the door, holding a bag in your hands, figuring out a plan in case of escape, and Leon noticed your strange behavior. Disappointed once again. In myself or maybe already in you? Do you really think he's such a monster?

"Why the fuck are you shaking so much?" - It wasn't funny anymore. Leon snatched the bag and threw it with all his might into a corner, not caring about the fragile contents. - "One big quarrel and I became the son of a bitch who beat you up or what? I'm not an angel, and with all my adoration, you're not a gift either! But did I hurt you at least once?!

"Yes!" - In a fit of emotion, you screamed, closing the distance with one big step. Leon chuckled. He meant physical pain, not mental pain. - "You hurt me. And it's still hard for me to live with this wound. I screwed up too. You know, I'm not the only loser here! And this is not a quarrel! You're a fucking jerk who still can't figure out his feelings. You didn't promise me shit, and it's my mistake that I came up with a big love for you ! But no one who has a conscience and respect for a partner will keep a compact of an ex-girlfriend and correspond with her in a joking manner. For some reason, my father does not allow himself to do this. No truly loving man will ever allow himself to do this! And instead of at least admitting the obvious, you convince me of something else! Tell me, Leon, if I did this to you, would you want to keep talking? Would you be able to trust me? "

"This shit has been lying there for a fucking cloud of time. I've already forgotten about her!"

Now both of you have switched to raised tones. You weren't scared anymore. The anger inside you was growing, erasing absolutely all the feelings that had been blunted before. Now you wanted to be fucking rude to him again, and that's probably what he liked about you. Leon even suspected that you would flare up like a match and be able to hit him.

"Forgot about the messages too?!"

"Fuck..." - It was unbearable to fight with you. Like a stubborn sheep who believed a stupid fool - his damn friend Carey. Leon pulled his phone out of his pocket and opened a message chat with Ada. There was no government information there, so he turned the screen to your face so that you could see what was written months earlier. But you didn't even look. Until Leon grabbed your wrist and put the smartphone in your hand. - "Look, read it since you're so sure that I still love Ada. It already seems to me that you are crazy about her".

Stubbornness was not always the best trait of your character, so you pressed the button on the side of the screen and just put the phone on the bedside table, making it clear that you would not stoop to such baseness to dig into other people's things. You also had a sense of your own worthiness.

"What happened?" - Leon croaked, taking a step forward. - "You wanted proof-I gave it to you."

"I don't want anything anymore Leon"

Only one thought was spinning in your head like a gear, "In vain. You shouldn't have come! Nobody got better from the fact that you disturbed this wound by reopening it." And yet you lied to yourself first of all. Leon's anger is caused by your disbelief, but even in a fit of the most terrible rage, he never did anything to you. Although you definitely felt uncomfortable from the tense atmosphere that had developed, where almost sparks were flying around the room, you still kept well with your arms crossed on your chest.

You needed Leon. You still wanted to love him and hugging a pillow at night you imagined that you were hugging him. But agreeing to be a fallback is also not in your style. There will still be a drop of pride for this.

So you just went to your bag, trying to pick it up to pick up the last belongings and leave, but Leon grabs your wrist. No pain. A firm grip is like a call to stop and give him a few more tries before he lets you go forever.

And you freeze, yielding to your instincts that purr sweetly from the slightest intimacy with this man. I wonder if Leon feels your pulse beating wildly? He lets go of your hand, biting his lower lip, and God, how you want to reach out to him to remember again what it's like to be his lover…

"So you came here just to break my heart again?" - his palms rested on your face, forcing you to look at him. For a second you suffocated drowning in the fragrance of his body and losing your mind looking into those eyes again. It's like they were pulling the soul out of you. - "Which of us is hurting the other more? First you reject me by running away for two months, then you pack up and say you never want to see me, but now you're coming back again… Of the two of us, who is the greater sadist?"

Your cheek pressed against his palm. A wave of heat spread throughout your body in small electrical discharges, as if you had taken a heavy intoxicating drug that turned you into clay in his hands. Leon pressed his forehead against yours, closing his eyes so that you could listen to the steady breathing and you were so waiting for the last kiss. At least a light touch of his lips…

Maybe in fact the main villain of this story was not Leon at all, but you yourself?

"I do not know," - somehow you whispered barely audible. Despite your closeness, you weren't sure Leon heard. -" I'm completely confused"

His bangs fell over your eyes, which made you smile a little.

"Do you want to leave?" - A question that made the body shudder with fright. As if you didn't want him to ask it to you, because an inner voice kept saying "no" and common sense began to doubt the correctness of the decisions made earlier. - "I don't want to let you go, but I can't forcibly hold you either. I really love you no matter what you think of yourself there, and it doesn't matter whether you believe me or not."

"I want to believe you but" - the voice trembled like a string. You lowered your gaze, trying to blink away the hateful tears despite the fact that Leon continued to hold your face.

"What?"

"I'm afraid." - you finally confessed, feeling a huge crack in your heart. Leon pressed you to his chest and you were grateful to him at that second because you no longer had the strength to control your emotions. - "I'm just afraid"

"My love? Or what?"

You didn't know what you were afraid of anymore. Leon pressed his cheek to the top of your head, holding the back of your head. Both of you didn't even notice how it started raining outside, creating an atmosphere of silence and loneliness. All that the soul craved was to stay standing like that for longer or even for an eternity. You feel his other hand on your waist, but you don't have the resolve to hug him back.

"It's not even about Ada, right?" - you didn't say anything. - "Do you really distrust me so much that you are ready to believe anyone but me?"

"You smelled of her perfume; you kept her things and never trusted me. I've always been away from you."

"Believe me angel, the shit that I constantly see haunts me almost every night and this is not what I want for you at all. Even if you begged me, I would never tell you about it. And about the rest…I have no idea what you smelled there."

Leon's words sounded like a final chord. No more excuses. Your body reflexively pressed against him, feeling the lost warmth of your native closeness, which caused the corners of Leon's lips to slightly rise up.

And in the end, you succumbed to the temptation of clasping his back with your trembling hands, covering your eyes from the fatigue of what is happening.

His lips touched your hair, and the noisy intake of breath that followed made him plunge into memories. It seemed like everything was covered in a misty haze, and your scent could make him lose his mind, even if it was for brief moments. The anxiety of a quick farewell enveloped the body, but there was something else… something that excites the mind regardless of temperature. A strange and at the same time precious emotion that has returned comfort to you two, affectionate behavior to each other, warmth of soul. This is something from the depths of the heart.

If Ada was a candle all this time, whose light illuminated a narrow space, then you were like the sun, whose warmth and beauty he missed so much. Leon realized that he was looking at a dazzling man with a huge sun inside, which dispelled all the darkness that had hung over him since the days of Raccoon City.

He knew he had no right to do that, and you could have pushed him away, but Leon wanted to feel your light one last time. Tearing you away from his shoulder so that the next moment he could press his lips to yours, memorizing your sweet taste. Like a rare nectar that can only be tasted once. A crushing kiss filled with belated remorse.

"Let this be my parting gift"

You're not annoyed or even angry. Whatever happens, you will always love him more than you should. So much time spent in vain to burn bittersweet feelings out of a stupid heart and stop following stupid emotions. Everything was absolutely in vain.

You pursed your lips when Leon started pulling away from you. As an avalanche hit a lonely wanderer, so you were dying at this second. leon believed that his love was hurting you and he is ready to step back so that you can heal, but the fact is that now you are at a crossroads again, not knowing the right way.

So maybe we should turn back?

You don't have an umbrella, just a thin jacket, and it's still raining mercilessly outside, as if someone is mourning the heavens. Drops trickle down the glass, and you wipe away your own tears, trying to listen to the footsteps behind you, but they are not there. A gigantic heaviness rolled over.

"It's stupid," you sobbed when you heard his voice, the one that cut you from the inside like a knife blade, forcing you to clench your teeth. - "I will never look for a meeting with you again, but still…stay with me."

"I..I can not…don't know" - Leon hugged you from behind again. Your voice was lost in hoarse sobs and if it weren't for his strong hands, your knees would hit the floor. It was as if the scenario of that day was repeating itself. - "I don't want to leave. I love you so much..."

You covered your mouth with your hand, unable to hold back your sobs any longer. It's just that emotions poured out in a flurry, turning you into a crying mess. However, the grip on your thin shoulders tightened when Leon turned you around to face him, holding you in a vice.

And your hand felt so good on his neck… Leon smiled as if he didn't want to know anything else in the world, starting to cover your tearful face with smudged kisses lingering on your lips and when you started answering all the barriers finally collapsed.

"So you'll stay." - no question. - "No more tears. No jealousy. You're here with me."

"Lee..on…" - with difficulty pronouncing his name, he burst into your mouth with a new kiss that stopped your breath. His tongue easily slid into your mouth intertwining with yours and you knew where to put yourself, allowing his hands to wander over your body.

"Either you leave now and never come back, or we send everything to hell and forget all the shit that happened to us. Choose now."

You were hanging around his neck, and to be honest, this really was your last chance to escape. It was only necessary to make a movement to the side, to pull away from him, but you stood still. One minute. Two… maybe the last two minutes of your sane thoughts.

You stayed, continuing to look into those sky-blue eyes, pressing your forehead against his, without interrupting eye contact. The person standing in front of you was irreplaceable, and now you would rather part with your life than agree to part with him.

Leon stroked your cheek with a funny peck on the lips, causing a sincere smile.

"Never dare to doubt me. Don't ever leave again. You and I will go somewhere far, far away from here. Let's drop everything and go to some house on the shore of the lake, where we will enjoy the tranquility and each other." - another kiss on the swollen nose. You just nodded, clinging to his T-shirt.

You've always been more of a vanilla girl, but Leon decided that rudeness would be superfluous. Not now and not tonight. He pulled off your clothes along with your underwear, throwing you on the soft bed that you already shared with him once and all you could think about was how he proved his love for you, holding you motionless in his arms, licking wet tracks from his cheeks. You didn't have the strength to fight him trying to take the initiative, the only thing you were thinking about was deep slow thrusts knocking moans out of your mouth. Leon was hugging you to him with great greed and a bit of fear, as if you could run away from him now. That's why he whispered soothing words and praise in your ear all the while tucking your hair back.

"I love you. You have no right to think otherwise. You're just my pretty girl, look at me, beautiful" - Leon threw you on the pillow, forcing you to open your eyes. Panting, you obeyed, wrapping your legs around his torso, pressing even closer to him, while Leon found your hand, twining your fingers together. - "I need you. You're my favorite girl, I love you so much. More than anything in the world, I value you, don't you dare leave me anymore, angel."

His smooth movements were maddening. Leaning over to you, he caught your lips pulling into a gentle kiss, but you immediately interrupted him leaning against his cheek like a petting cat, losing his head and blushing from vulgar pops and squelching sounds due to the abundance of lubricant.

"Don't leave me," - you freed your hands trying to straddle him, but Leon crossed your sad attempt pressing only harder to the mattress. - "I'm not leaving anymore, I swear. I'm so sorry… I've never wanted anyone more than you. Only you…my love…"

He was so gentle with you. There could be bruises from your closeness in some places, but you felt as good as ever in all the past months of separation. A loud moan escaped his lips when he plunged into you too deeply. His seed soiled your belly when he cum snuggling up to you.

You don't remember exactly when your sanity returned to you, but you definitely felt it when Leon, after the second round and long hugs with compliments, took you to the shower where he carefully washed off the traces of your intimacy with him, gently kissing and sucking every bruise left from his fingers, promising that he would take care of it in the morning.

You ran your fingers over his wet bangs, brushing it away from his eyes, which Leon used when he picked you up under the hips after taking a hot shower to take you back to his bed and let you rest.

Actually, the bed linen should have been changed too, but you two didn't care at all. Leon pulled you closer to him, laying you on his chest, hugging you with both hands, stopping any attempts to escape, but you were no longer planning to run anywhere. He fell asleep pretty quickly, and you lay motionless next to him for another hour, tormented by a feeling of hunger and thinking how you could get to the refrigerator without disturbing a light sleep. His shirt was left lying on the floor and with an awkward movement, as if deceiving a sleeping man with the desire to turn over, you carefully free yourself from the ring of embraces by getting out of bed. You take a cursory glance at Leon, making sure that he is still asleep and throw it on hastily without even buttoning his shirt, leaving the bedroom with light steps with the obvious intention of robbing his refrigerator.

Slowly and on tiptoe… wanting to have a snack at least with a sandwich, you realize when you open the door that a mouse has hanged itself in the refrigerator. Nothing particularly edible, and what Leon ate all this time, also remains a mystery.

Although it seems the cheese seemed quite usable. It's not too satisfying after a particularly sinful night, but you can last until morning. You already want to close the door when suddenly you realize with a sixth sense that someone is standing behind you, forcing you to freeze in place with a slice of cheese in your teeth.

But Leon just stroked your thighs laughing at the silent scene.

"I'm hungry" - That's the whole excuse. - "I'm sorry, but I won't fall asleep if I don't eat something…"

"I told you not to leave me anywhere." - It sounded harsh, but with obvious notes of playfulness, especially since Leon was clearly staring at your breasts. - "You could have asked me instead of running away again. God, stop eating that cheese. I don't want you to get poisoned!"

"Then feed me something or I'll starve to death. I definitely won't be able to return from the other world."

Leon took the fucking cheese out of your hands after enjoying this sweet conversation between two lovers and one hungry heart and threw you over his shoulder carrying you back to the bedroom, putting you back in his bed.

"And now you're lying or sitting in bed like the obedient girl you are while I bring us something to eat. If you are not in this place, blame yourself. You've already rubbed my nerves and yours enough, angel." - You nodded, still feeling the residual stress from the hysteria you experienced, but you were still smiling sweetly, hanging one leg over the edge of the bed, teasing Leon a little, who was getting dressed all this time. He noticed your stupid game and took a leather jacket from the closet on the way out of the bedroom tickled your heel, forcing you to hide it back under the blanket.

"You're staying here. So that when I come back, and it will be very soon, I will find you in this very place." - Notes of sadness and fatigue were still hovering in his eyes, so you didn't argue, but just agreed.

"I'll be here. It's raining outside anyway and I don't have an umbrella with me."

Leon flicked you on the nose, clearly not appreciating the joke. He didn't even ask what you wanted, even though he already knew about your taste preferences. Therefore, as soon as the door slammed shut, you quickly reached for your mobile phone, answering missed calls from your parents, explaining to them that you just dozed off and didn't hear the mobile. In general, you have found something to do by digging into your phone, checking messages and flipping through the news feed in the social network, thinking only about Leon and the food that he should bring soon.

It all still seemed unreal. You looked at the corner where your abandoned bag was left lying around, as if confirming reality. It's unlikely to be possible to pretend that nothing happened and Leon really looked too tired, but right now you didn't want to think about anything else except his return. Perhaps you have already suffered enough and you really should go on vacation together somewhere away from the hustle and bustle of the world? Leon will probably want to talk about this topic again with a fresher head when he calms down a little.

In the end, finding you sleeping in his bed was a really beautiful reality that he was afraid he had already lost. In his shirt, with pretty bare thighs, sleeping lightly on his pillow. Leon put the bag of food on the table, taking off his jacket just to hug you, proving to himself once again that this is really not a dream.

You really stayed with him and he won't let you leave anymore.

[biggerbetterbat]

THE SECOND SON | one.

Ubbe Ragnarsson x oc!Valdis

Summary: Valdis travels to Kattegat to finally meet her husband. During the journey she reflects on the past and struggles with doubts. Ubbe struggles with his own worries.

Words: 5,916

A/N: Hello :) I came back with the very first chapter and I have everything figured out. I changed the oc name as there is another Astrid in the show…Anyway, I hope you enjoy!

The memory was all she had. She was clenching it in her hands as if her life depended on it. Every day she was trying to recall the tone of his voice, the intensity of his stare, and the melody of his laugh. Her biggest fear was forgetting it, forgetting him.

Valdis stood on the deck of the longship, her gaze fixed on the horizon as the salty breeze tousled her hair. In her heart, a mixture of anticipation and uncertainty churned like the restless sea beneath her. As the rhythmic sound of oars slicing through the water echoed around her, Valdis's thoughts drifted to the life that awaited her in Kattegat. Leaving behind her homeland, she embarked on a journey, where her fate awaited her in the form of an arranged marriage to Ubbe, son of Ragnar Lothbrok.

She recalled the relief she had felt when news of Ragnar's disappearance had reached her ears, a flicker of hope igniting within her that perhaps her arranged marriage would be called off. She couldn't deny the sense of liberation that had washed over her when he vanished without a trace. In the absence of Ragnar's influence, Valdis dared to dream of a different future, one where she was free to carve out her own path, unbound by the constraints of duty and obligation. Despite the hope for freedom that Ragnar's disappearance had kindled within her, she couldn't shake the profound sorrow that washed over her at the thought that she would never see him again.

However, he came back.

One of their sailors brought the news, and before she could fully process the implications of Ragnar's return, her brother had made a swift and decisive decision – they would set sail for Kattegat without delay, ensuring that Valdis fulfilled her obligations to her betrothed. She couldn't shake the feeling that she was leaving behind more than just her homeland – it was as if a part of her soul was being torn away with each passing wave. For a moment, she allowed herself to entertain the notion that this voyage was not merely a transition, but the closing of a chapter in her life, or maybe even the end of her life.

With a heavy heart, Valdis turned her gaze once more to the horizon, steeling herself for the inevitable confrontation that awaited her in Kattegat.

"Forgive my intrusion, my lady," she murmured softly, her voice a gentle caress against the backdrop of Valdis's melancholy. "But I could not bear to see you suffer in silence."

Vadis's gaze lifted, meeting her servant's with a mixture of surprise and gratitude. "You need not concern yourself with my troubles," she replied, her voice tinged with resignation. "They are burdens I must bear alone."

The servant's voice rang with conviction, each word infused with the unwavering loyalty that bound her to Valdis's side. "You would never be alone, my lady," she declared, her tone resolute as she met the young woman's gaze with determination. "For as long as I draw breath, I shall stand by your side, a steadfast companion through every trial and tribulation."

Valdis's heart swelled with gratitude at her servant's unwavering pledge, her eyes shimmering with unshed tears. But she just placed her gentle hand on the servant's arm. "Thank you."

Sensing the heaviness in the air, the servant sought to shift the focus of their conversation, offering a glimmer of levity amidst the weight of her Lady's  burdens. With a gentle smile, she ventured forth, "My lady, forgive my curiosity, but I cannot help but wonder...what do you imagine Ubbe to be like? What image fills your mind when you think of him?"

As Valdis's gaze drifted once more toward the endless expanse of the ocean, her voice carried a hint of melancholy, mingling with the distant cries of seabirds and the gentle lapping of waves against the shore. "I stopped imagining him long ago," she confessed softly, her words a whisper carried away by the breeze.

"In my mind's eye, Ubbe is a man of striking stature," she began, her words painting a vivid portrait of the man they both longed to know. "His eyes are like the sea on a stormy day, yet filled with softness. And his voice... it carries the weight of authority, yet holds a warmth that draws others to him like moths to a flame."

Valdis listened with rapt attention, her imagination ignited by the servant's vivid descriptions. "And his presence?" she pressed, eager to delve deeper into the realm of possibility.

The servant's smile widened as she continued, her words infused with a sense of wonder and awe. "His presence is like that of a warrior king, commanding respect without the need for words," she replied, her voice tinged with admiration.

"Hmm."

"Who knows what wonders fate may yet unfold? Perhaps in Ubbe, you will find not just duty, but unexpected blessings beyond imagining, my lady."

"What is the meaning of this? Have you no respect for the gravity of our situation?" said low and dangerous voice. The man's tone tinged with anger. The servant's heart quickened with fear, her earlier resolve crumbling beneath the weight of his wrath. She cast a fleeting glance at Valdis, her eyes pleading for understanding before retreating with haste, her steps echoing softly against the floorboards as she made her exit."This is not a matter of personal desires or preferences. It's a deal, a pact forged for the betterment of our family and our people."

"I know what my responsibilities are," she answered.

"Do you?" he demanded, his voice laced with accusation. "Or have you blinded yourself to the truth, consumed by the illusion of duty?"

Valdis met his gaze with a mixture of defiance and sorrow, her eyes betraying the inner turmoil she sought to conceal. "I am not blind, Olaf," she retorted, her words tinged with a hint of defiance. "But sometimes duty demands sacrifices that weigh heavy on the soul."

"I don't think you fully grasp the gravity of the situation, sister," he retorted sharply, his tone tinged with frustration. "This is not just about your responsibilities; it's about our family's reputation, our standing in the community. Your actions have consequences that extend far beyond your own desires."

As Valdis found herself alone once more, the echoes of her brother's words lingering in the air like a haunting melody, she turned her attention to the scene unfolding in front of her. With each passing moment, the distant figures aboard the vessels grew clearer, their silhouettes etched against the backdrop of the horizon like darkened specters emerging from the mists of time.

As the boat was slowly approaching Kattegat, Ubbe and Hvitserk stood on the shore, watching the it with a mixture of anticipation and apprehension, Ubbe couldn't shake the feeling of resentment that simmered beneath the surface of his thoughts.

"This unknown bride and forced marriage," Ubbe muttered bitterly, his gaze fixed on the horizon. "It's all Ragnar's doing. Chaos."

Hvitserk's voice cut through the air, his tone laced with skepticism as he addressed his brother. "Is it really that bad, Ubbe?" he queried, his brow furrowing with uncertainty. "Mother will be happy that her oldest son will finally have a wife and children. Plus the bride... maybe she's not that bad."

Ubbe paused, considering his brother's words carefully before responding. "Perhaps," he conceded, his thoughts still swirling with doubts and uncertainties. "He had no right to choose my future for me."

"He needed an army."

"He always needed something," Ubbe clenched his teeth. "Tell her my greetings," he instructed, his voice tinged with resignation.

Hvitserk watched his brother's retreating figure with concern, his brow furrowed in confusion. "Where are you going?" he called out, his voice echoing against the shore.

Ubbe paused for a moment, his gaze fixed on the distant horizon. "To be alone for the last time," he replied quietly, his words heavy with the weight of impending change.

Hvitserk's eyes widened in realization, a pang of sadness gripping his heart at the thought of his brother facing his fate alone. "And what am I supposed to tell them?!" he demanded, his voice tinged with frustration.

Ubbe shrugged, a sense of resignation settling over him. With a final nod to his brother, he turned and walked away, disappearing into the shadows of the forest with purposeful strides.

As the boat docked, Valdis stepped onto the wooden planks, her hands trembling with nerves. She straightened her shoulders, steeling herself for the encounter that awaited her—a meeting with the Queen of Kattegat and her sons. At the far end of wooden planks, stood the Queen of Kattegat, a regal figure dressed in richly embroidered robes. Beside her stood her sons—Hvitserk, Sigurd, and Ivar.

"Welcome to Kattegat," the Queen said, her voice firm but welcoming. "I am Aslaug, Queen of the North."

Valdis bowed her head respectfully.

As she looked up, she found herself meeting the eyes of Ivar the Boneless. There was something about him—something that sent a shiver down her spine. But beneath the intensity of his gaze, she saw something else—a glimmer of curiosity, perhaps, or even a hint of admiration.

Olaf, Valdis's brother, stood beside her, his expression a mixture of pride and protectiveness. As the Queen of Kattegat greeted them, his gaze narrowed slightly, assessing their hosts with a keen eye.

"We are honored to be welcomed into your kingdom," Olaf replied, his voice strong and unwavering. "I can't see your husband, or Ubbe. Are they coming? Or perhaps Bjorn?" he inquired, his tone tinged with curiosity.

Aslaug's expression softened slightly, a shadow passing over her features as she considered her reply. "Bjorn will come in a moment," she assured him, her voice carrying a note of certainty. "As for my husband, I cannot say. And as for Ubbe..."

Before she could finish her sentence, Hvitserk interjected with a wry smile. "Ubbe is haunting," he remarked cryptically, his eyes dancing with mischief.

Olaf's confusion deepened at the enigmatic statement, his brow furrowing in bewilderment. "Haunting?" he echoed, his voice tinged with skepticism.

Valdis couldn't help but feel a pang of disappointment that Ubbe hadn't even wanted to see her upon her arrival. After all, they were to be married, and she had expected at least a greeting from her future husband.

As her gaze met Hvitserk's, she couldn't help but notice the warmth that radiated from his smile. It was a silent reassurance that she was not alone in this unfamiliar place. His smile was a beacon of light in the midst of uncertainty, a reminder that she had allies in this new and unfamiliar land. Valdis returned the smile. "Maybe...for the time being, I can show you around?"

"Thank you," she replied, her voice soft with appreciation. "But I would like to rest after the journey. Perhaps another time."

Hvitserk nodded understandingly, a warm smile gracing his features. "Of course," he said. "You'll have plenty of time to explore Kattegat."

"I believe, my sister's husband should take care of her," Olaf interrupted.

"Oh, he will," Aslaug answered with a tone, matching the man's tone.

Valdis's room was modest yet comfortable. A simple wooden bed stood against another wall, draped with furs and blankets to ward off the chill of the night air. Beside it, a small bedside table held a flickering oil lamp, casting a warm, golden glow that illuminated the room with a sense of coziness. Opposite the bed, a stone fireplace crackled merrily, its dancing flames casting shadows across the room.

As Valdis settled into her new accommodations, her servant, a kind woman named Astrid, helped her unpack and get settled. "Have you seen Ubbe yet?" Ingrid asked, her tone gentle with concern.

Valdis shook her head, a hint of disappointment in her voice. "No, not yet. But Hvitserk has been very kind to me," she replied, a small smile tugging at the corners of her lips.

"Hvitserk seems to have taken quite a liking to you," Ingrid teased, a playful twinkle in her eye.

Valdis felt a blush creep into her cheeks at the remark. "Oh, stop it," she replied, her voice tinged with embarrassment.

But Ingrid merely chuckled, unfazed by Valdis's protests. "I'm just saying," she continued with a mischievous grin. Ingrid's teasing took on a more speculative tone as she continued, "A shame he's the younger brother, I suppose?"

Valdis shrugged, her expression thoughtful. "How would I know?" she replied with a hint of uncertainty. "I haven't met Ubbe. I still know nothing about him."

The mention of Ubbe brought a twinge of curiosity. Despite being betrothed to him, Valdis hadn't yet had the chance to form an opinion about her future husband. The uncertainty of their arranged marriage lingered in the back of her mind, overshadowed by the unexpected kindness she had received from Hvitserk. Ingrid nodded understandingly, sensing Valdis's hesitation. "Well, perhaps you'll meet him soon enough," she remarked optimistically. "And until then, you have Hvitserk to keep you company."

Valdis gave her a smile.

"Rest my lady," Ingrid bid her farewell and left the room, Valdis felt a sense of restlessness stir within her. Despite her weariness from the journey, her mind buzzed with thoughts of the mysterious "haunting" and Ubbe's absence. Unable to shake the feeling of unease, she knew she couldn't simply rest.

She undressed from her dress and put on the one that belonged to Ingrid. Her servants didn't know that she stole it from her to regularly sneak out of her room. When she was once again dressed, she draped a cape on her shoulders and with determination, Valdis rose from her bed, careful not to make a sound that would alert anyone to her departure. She moved swiftly and silently, slipping out of the room like a shadow.

As Ubbe strode through the dense woods, his footsteps echoing amidst the towering trees, he found solace in the quiet solitude of the forest. Though he had long accepted the inevitability of his arranged marriage, the reality of the situation weighed heavily upon him, casting a shadow of discontent over his thoughts. His future wife was here...somewhere, but here. She wasn't just a story or a thought. The woman was here and his marriage was getting real. With each step, Ubbe's frustration grew, his brow furrowed in consternation as he grappled with the uncertainty of his arranged marriage.

As he was walking deep in his thoughts, he didn't notice a person materializing in front of him. The sudden appearance of the unknown woman sent a jolt of adrenaline coursing through his veins, his senses sharpening with the primal instinct of survival. With a swift motion, he raised his hands in a gesture of surrender, his gaze fixed upon the gleaming blade pointed in his direction.

"Stop!" called a woman.

As Ubbe observed the mysterious woman before him, his eyes were drawn to the gentle rise and fall of her chest, her breaths coming in soft, rhythmic waves. Her white hair cascaded in loose waves around her shoulders, catching the dappled sunlight, framing her delicate features like a halo of golden light. Her features were finely sculpted, her skin kissed by the sun and the wind, imbued with a natural glow that spoke of a life. He felt a sense of awe wash over him, a reverence for the woman who stood before him.

As Valdis stood before the stranger in the woods, her hand trembling slightly as she pointed her blade at him, she couldn't shake the feeling of uncertainty that gnawed at her insides. Despite her initial alarm, Valdis found herself captivated by the sight of the man who stood before her.

"I mean you no harm," he assured her, his words carrying the weight of honesty and respect. "I understand your caution, but know that I am not your enemy."

Valdis's shoulders relaxed slightly at Ubbe's reassurance, a flicker of relief dancing in her emerald-green eyes. "What are you doing here?" she repeated, her voice firm yet tinged with uncertainty. "The whole city is greeting newcomers...soon to be wife of Prince Ubbe."

Ubbe met Valdis's gaze with unwavering resolve, his expression earnest as he sought to ease her apprehension. "I needed some time alone," he explained, his tone gentle yet firm. "The prospect of my future weighs heavily upon me, and I sought solace amidst the quiet of the forest."

Under his calm voice, the tension started to drain from her muscles as she released the blade to the forest floor with a soft thud. With a weary sigh, she sank down. "Tell me about it," she mumbled under her nose.

Ubbe watched in silence as the woman settled onto the ground, her posture one of weariness and vulnerability. With a gentle expression, he joined her, lowering himself to the grass beside her - but in a safe distance, with his hands still up. He observed her eyes change from determined to filled with sadness. He eased himself down onto the grass beside her, his movements fluid and unhurried. Valdis mirrored his movements, easing herself down beside him until they lay side by side, their bodies parallel in the embrace of the forest floor.

Valdis closed her eyes, allowing the warmth of the sun to wash over her, she felt a sense of calm settle over her being. With each breath, she felt herself sinking deeper into a state of relaxation, the tension melting away from her muscles.

Beside her, Ubbe's gaze lingered on stranger's profile, his eyes tracing the delicate curve of her jawline and the graceful arc of her neck. In the dappled light of the forest, she appeared ethereal. As he watched her, Ubbe felt a stirring within his heart—a sense of wonder and admiration for the woman who lay beside him. With each passing moment, Ubbe found himself drawn further into Valdis's orbit, captivated by the quiet grace and inner strength that radiated from her like a beacon in the night.

"Are you a slave?"

"Aren't we all slaves of something?"

Ubbe felt a corner of his lips going up.

"Are you from around here?" he asked. "I have never seen you before."

"No," she answered. "I came here because I heard about Ragnar Lothbroke's come back."

Ubbe grimaced. "And why would you want to see him?"

"He's a legend."

"He's nothing," Ubbe scoffed. "The sooner you'll understand it the better for you."

"Why?"

"His actions brought pain and suffering to those closest to him, tearing apart his family with each selfish decision he made."

"He may have made mistakes, but his travels opened our eyes to worlds beyond our own, expanding our understanding of the world and its people."

"Have you ever dreamed of traveling to distant lands, beyond the horizon?" he asked suddenly.

"I desire this more than anything," she said. "There's a whole world out there waiting to be discovered, and I long to explore every corner of it."

Ubbe smiled, captivated by her fervor. "What draws you to it?"

Valdis's eyes danced with enthusiasm as she spoke. "It's all of those things," she answered. "I want to see whatever lays beyond the horizon. Every night I dream of setting sail on a longship, feeling the wind in my hair and the salty spray on my face. I yearn to explore the unknown."

"What's stopping you?"

"Responsibilities to my family."

"I understand more than you may realize."

"Is that so?" she asked, not looking at him. "Who are you then?"

"My name is Ubbe."

For a fleeting moment, time seemed to stand still, the world around her fading into a blur as the weight of those words settled upon her like a heavy cloak. In the hushed stillness of the forest, Valdis's mind raced, her thoughts a whirlwind of emotions. As her heart raced with the realization of who lay beside her.

With a hesitant movement, she turned her head slightly, her eyes searching his features in the soft light of the forest. Finding that his eyes were already on her. As Valdis's gaze lingered on Ubbe's face, a sense of familiarity washed over her. Ubbe bore a striking resemblance to his father, Ragnar Lothbrok, the legendary Viking warrior she had met so many years ago. The same piercing gaze, the same rugged features, the same air of quiet strength that had captivated her from the moment they had first crossed paths.

"The Prince?" she asked before she bit her tongue.

"Have you seen my future wife?" he asked, keeping his eyes on the sky.

Valdis, her heart heavy with the weight of hidden truths, met his gaze with a mixture of sadness and resolve. "Yes, I have," she replied softly, her words laden with meaning that remained veiled to Ubbe's perception.

His brow furrowed in confusion, Ubbe pressed on, oblivious to the revelation that lay just beyond his grasp. "And?"

"And?" she met his eyes.

Curiosity burning within him, Ubbe turned back to Valdis, his eyes alight with inquiry. "Is my future wife... pretty?" he ventured, his voice hesitant yet tinged with a hint of anticipation.

Valdis, her gaze steady and her heart heavy with the weight of unspoken truths, met his question with a measured silence, her mind racing with the words left unspoken. "Beauty is in the eye of the beholder," she finally replied, her words carefully chosen to obscure the truth that lay just beyond his grasp.

Undeterred, Ubbe pressed on, his curiosity unyielding. "Can you describe her to me? What does she look like?" he asked, his voice tinged with a mixture of apprehension and intrigue.

Valdis hesitated, her thoughts swirling like leaves caught in a gust of wind. "She... possesses a certain grace," she offered cryptically, her words veiling the truth that hovered just beneath the surface.

Ubbe couldn't help but snort at Valdis's cryptic description. "Grace?" he repeated incredulously, his skepticism evident in his tone. "What does that even mean?"

Valdis, caught off guard by his reaction, struggled to maintain her composure, her mind racing for a suitable response. "It means... she carries herself with elegance," she replied hesitantly, her words chosen carefully to mask the truth lurking beneath the surface.

"Why would that information even be important?" he queried, his voice tinged with a hint of frustration.

Her heart racing with the weight of hidden truths, struggled to find the right words to appease his curiosity without revealing her true identity. "It's... important to know what to expect," she replied evasively, her words carefully chosen to obscure the truth that lay just beyond his grasp.

Unsatisfied with her response, Ubbe pressed on, his desire for clarity outweighing any sense of decorum. "But what does it matter how she looks or carries herself?" he persisted, his skepticism unyielding.

"It matters because... appearances can be deceiving," she offered cryptically.

"Tell me more." As Ubbe's persistence grew, he turned back to Valdis, his gaze intense with curiosity. "Tell me more. What have you seen?" he pressed, his voice firm and unwavering.

"This is all I saw," she replied softly, her words a careful blend of truth and evasion.

Unsatisfied with her response, Ubbe's determination only intensified. "Tell me," he insisted, his tone imploring.

"Why haven't you welcomed her? You would know," Valdis countered, her voice tinged with a hint of desperation as she sought to deflect his inquiries.

Ubbe's brow furrowed in confusion, his mind grappling with the implications of her words. "Welcome her?" he repeated, his voice tinged with uncertainty.

But before he could press further, Valdis, sensing the precariousness of their situation, chose her next words with care. She shook her head and turned her head away. I must go now," she murmured softly.

As Valdis prepared to leave, Ubbe, unaware of her identity as his future wife, couldn't help but feel a pang of reluctance at the thought of their impending parting. With a sense of longing in his heart, he turned to her, his gaze searching hers for reassurance.

"Will I see you again?" he asked, his voice tinged with a hint of uncertainty.

Valdis paused, her heart skipping a beat at the earnestness in his question. Stopping a wistful smile, she turned to face him one last time. "Sooner than you may think."

As night descended like a heavy cloak upon Kattegat, casting shadows that danced ominously in the flickering torchlight, the great hall buzzed with the murmurs of its inhabitants. The air was thick with the scent of mead, laughter echoing off the wooden rafters as the sound of music and dancing filled the air. The hall pulsed with life, each heartbeat of the drum resonating deep within the hearts of those gathered.

Ubbe made his entrance into the bustling hall, his eyes adjusting to the flickering torchlight, he was met by the familiar figure of Hvitserk weaving his way through the crowd. With a grin, Hvitserk approached, though there was a hint of something else in his expression—jealousy.

"Ubbe," Hvitserk greeted, clapping him on the shoulder. "I must admit, I'm feeling jealousy knowing you'll soon be wed to this woman."

Ubbe, taken aback by his brother's candid admission, arched an eyebrow in surprise. "Jealous, Hvitserk?" he questioned, a mixture of amusement and confusion coloring his tone.

Hvitserk chuckled, though there was a touch of bitterness in his laughter. "Aye, jealous indeed," he confessed. Hvitserk's words hung heavy in the air, his tone filled with disbelief and a hint of resignation. "She's nothing like we supposed to. I expected some fat and horrible woman," he confessed, his voice tinged with a mixture of surprise and disappointment. "I must admit, I'm feeling a pang of jealousy knowing you'll soon be wed to a woman like her."

Ubbe's curiosity piqued by Hvitserk's unexpected admission, he furrowed his brow inquisitively. "Why would my future wife make you jealous?" he queried, his tone laced with genuine curiosity.

Hvitserk's response came with a mixture of admiration and envy. "She's so pretty, Ubbe," he confessed, his words tinged with longing. "And her body... it's like something out of a skald's tale."

Ubbe, caught off guard by his brother's candid admission, felt a surge of curiosity course through him. "And yet, she's so amazing?" he questioned, his voice filled with incredulity.

Hvitserk nodded emphatically, his eyes alight with a newfound sense of wonder. "Go and see for yourself!" he urged, a hint of excitement creeping into his voice. "She's with Mother."

With a sense of anticipation building within him, Ubbe wasted no time in making his way through the bustling hall, his heart racing with the prospect of finally meeting the woman who would shape his destiny.

As Valdis found herself seated near Aslaug, she couldn't shake the feeling of unease that settled like a heavy cloak upon her shoulders. The atmosphere around them crackled with tension, and despite her best efforts to remain composed, she could feel Aslaug's hostile gaze lingering upon her like a shadow. For a fleeting moment, Valdis dared to steal a glance in his direction, her heart quickening at the sight of him. But as their eyes met, she found herself caught in the intensity of his gaze, a silent understanding passing between them amidst the chaos of the crowded hall.

Ubbe's brow furrowed in confusion as he caught sight of Valdis seated beside his mother, clad in an elegant dress that seemed out of place amidst the rustic surroundings of the great hall. The contrast between her current attire and the simple garb she had worn in the forest only added to his bewilderment, stirring a sense of curiosity within him.

"Why are you here? And why are you dressed like this?" he queried, his tone tinged with a mixture of surprise and uncertainty.

"You already know each other?" Aslaug slurred.

"What do you mean?"

"Ubbe, I..." she began, her voice trailing off as she searched for the right words to explain.

But before she could speak further, Ivar, ever perceptive despite the revelry around them, interjected with a smirk playing on his lips. "It's your future wife, brother!" he declared, his words cutting through the haze of confusion that clouded Ubbe's mind.

The realization struck Ubbe like a bolt of lightning. Valdis, the woman he had encountered in the forest, was to be his bride by the will of their clans.

Anger surged through him like wildfire. He felt like a fool, letting some woman play with him. How could he have been so blind, so naive, to have shared secrets with a stranger. But amidst the storm of anger and confusion, there was a flicker of something else, something unexpected yet undeniable. Back in the woods and now in the Great Hall, Ubbe found himself drawn to Valdis in a way he had never anticipated. He was inexplicably drawn to her, his heart torn between conflicting loyalties and desires.

Ubbe felt too much at once, he needed a distraction. His eyes met Margarethe's.

As Valdis walked away from the bustling hall, her footsteps echoing softly against the damp earth. The moon cast its shimmering light upon the surface, lending an ethereal quality to the scene before her. As she neared the shoreline, her gaze fell upon a solitary figure seated upon a massive rock. A sense of curiosity stirred within her, compelling her to draw closer, her footsteps cautious against the uneven terrain. As she approached, the figure turned towards her.

Her heart skipped a beat, her breath catching in her throat as recognition dawned upon her. It was him, the man who had occupied her thoughts since their first fateful meeting—the legendary Ragnar Lothbrok.

Her prayers were being heard.

With a mixture of awe and reverence, Valdis climbed onto the smooth surface of the rock, her heart pounding in her chest with the intensity of her emotions. As Ragnar glanced over at Valdis, he noticed her, but said nothing to welcome her. Or maybe he didn't recognize her. He said nothing, choosing instead to turn his attention back to the vast expanse of the sea before them.

Feeling the chill of the night air seep into her bones, Valdis instinctively wrapped her arms around herself, seeking warmth in the absence of the fading sunlight. Sensing her discomfort, Ragnar's gaze softened, and with a scoff, he reached for the heavy cloak draped across his shoulders. Without a word, he gently draped the cloak around Valdis's shoulders, the fabric enveloping her in a cocoon of warmth and comfort. "Not enjoying my wife's company?"

"She's rather..." Valdis answered, but tried to find a word that wouldn't insult the Queen, or Ragnar. "Aloof?" she finally replied, choosing her words carefully to convey her meaning without outright insult.

Ragnar chuckled softly, a wry smile playing at the corners of his lips. "Aloof, you say?" he echoed, his tone tinged with amusement. "That's one way to put it."

As Valdis looked at Ragnar, a sense of amazement and affection washed over her, mirroring the awe and admiration she had felt as a child of seven summers, captivated by the larger-than-life figure before her. There was something about the way he carried himself, a quiet strength tempered by a gentle kindness, that drew her to him.

"You were but a child when I last saw you, and now... you've become a woman."

"You recognize me?" she asked, her voice barely more than a whisper.

Ragnar met her gaze with a knowing smile, his eyes twinkling with a warmth that seemed to pierce through the darkness of the night. "Of course," he replied, his voice a soft murmur that carried on the breeze. "I've been thinking about you, little one."

Silence fell between them for a moment.

"You can finally marry my son, is he handsome enough? Like me?" he quipped, his tone laced with a hint of mischief.

Valdis couldn't help but smile at the jest, a warm glow spreading through her chest as she remembered the innocent words she had spoken to Ragnar so many years ago. "Handsome enough, I suppose," she replied playfully, her eyes sparkling with amusement. "But not like you."

"If I were younger, I would marry you instead," he quipped, his tone filled with mock regret.

Valdis laughed softly, her amusement mirrored in the warmth of her gaze. "Not that your age could stop you," she retorted, her voice tinged with playful defiance. "Queen Aslaug is the real reason."

Ragnar's laughter mingled with hers, the sound carrying on the night breeze like the echo of distant thunder. "She would end us," he agreed, his tone light despite the underlying truth of his words. "Best not to risk it."

And so, they shared in the playful banter, their laughter mingling with the gentle rhythm of the waves as they sat together beneath the starlit sky.

"Where is your father?" Ragnar asked, and watched as the smile disappeared from her pretty face. "How did he died?"

"He was ill," she answered. "At the end...He wasn't himself anymore."

"Was it a quick death?"

"I suppose," Valdis nodded. "He died in the sea he loved so much."

Ragnar felt a pang of sorrow grip his heart, a deep ache that seemed to echo in the depths of his soul. Her words brought back memories of his own dear friend, a comrade-in-arms whose presence he had sorely missed since his passing. A solemn silence fell between them as Ragnar absorbed the weight of her grief, his thoughts turning inward to the memories of battles fought and victories won alongside his fallen friend. "Seems like I missed a lot."

"Things change."she replied softly, her words carrying the weight of unspoken truths.

In that moment, Ragnar realized that Valdis was no longer the wide-eyed girl he had once known, filled with dreams of marrying a prince and living happily ever after. She had grown, matured, and faced hardships that had shaped her into the woman she had become.

"You don't want to be here."

"So do you."

Ragnar couldn't help but chuckle at Valdis's sudden and witty retort, a glimmer of amusement dancing in his eyes as he regarded her with a newfound sense of admiration. In that moment, he saw glimpses of the spirited young girl he had first met years before—a girl filled with fire and determination, unafraid to speak her mind even in the face of uncertainty. Ragnar felt a surge of affection for her, a fondness born from the memories they had shared and the bond that had formed between them over the years.

With a playful smile, Ragnar reached out to ruffle Valdis's hair, a gesture of affection that spoke volumes more than words ever could. "Some things never change," he remarked, his voice filled with warmth and fondness. As Ragnar rose from the rock, a sense of purpose guiding his movements, he began to walk away, his steps steady and sure. But as he reached the edge of the shore, he paused, turning back to look at Valdis with a meaningful gaze.

"Come," he called out to her, his voice carrying on the wind. "There is much we have yet to see."

As Valdis rushed towards Ragnar without hesitation, her determination evident in every step, Ragnar couldn't help but laugh, the sound echoing through the night like the call of a wild animal. Her eagerness was infectious, and he found himself caught up in the moment.

[damnfandomproblems]

I think one issue with the AI debate (which is apparent with this exchange) is that even if their heart is ultimately in the right place, some anti-AI folks would prefer to insult and scold rather than to educate.

I'm currently anti-AI myself, though about a year ago when it was just starting to blow up I was somewhere between pro and neutral to AI, because the way a lot of anti-AI arguments were presented just didn't make much sense to me at the time.

There was a lot of "its ugly!!" which is, for one thing, is EXTREMELY objective, and from my perspective, not always true. There was a lot that I found interesting or even beautiful. (One thing I still think even today, despite my disillusionment with AI is that it's the closest thing I've ever seen that accurately represents the real uncanniness of dreaming, although this is usually unintentional.)

I didn't like the "it's bad because it doesn't MEAN anything!" or some out-there woo-woo "it wasn't Created with the Divine and Blessed Soul of the Human Spirit" type stuff, because a part of what art is about is what meaning the viewer brings to it. Maybe the computer doesn't understand what symbolism is, but I could still find it whether it was meant to be there or not, and in this way, something that "no one made" is elevated to something a little bit higher.

And while I was more convinced by the argument of theft of individuals art, I still thought, "well, it's not like people are going to pass it off as their own creation! it's more of a starting off point, like an inspiration board! of course people are going to CHANGE it and actually make it their own, and that's a transformative work!" And this final point got proven wrong very, VERY quickly, because people WERE releasing clearly jacked-up images as "their own creations" with no regard to the artists whose work it came from. All it did was make people extremely lazy, because look at all the AI images with screwed-up text, the part that would be the EASIEST thing of all to fix, no artistic skill required, just ten seconds in any editing program and the ability to give half a shit. People either didn't even notice they were posting absolute nonsense, or didn't care, because they thought no one else would.

And not just people, but businesses, corporations. In such a short time, people's standards for quality control has dipped below zero. Quantity over quality, now half of any Google Image search is AI. When misinformation gets passed along faster than ever and no one ever thinks to question it, let's just create misinformation at an exponential rate! Now every website has its own AI feature it wants you to try, phones have AI generators built in, everyone is racing to capitalize off a technology we haven't even figured out ethically.

And then, most important of all, is the environmental impact. Like yeah, you might not feel like you're doing art theft with your character AI chats, since you keep it to yourself and don't profit from it. But if they have to cut down a tree every time you want to pretend to talk to your blorbos, isn't it just easier to open up your Notes app?

I don't think AI will never work, I think someday someone will be able to figure out a compromise that doesn't steal artists work and doesn't overheat the planet, where it actually can be a tool artists enjoy using instead of something to replacing artists entirely. But I don't believe that day will come very soon, when potential for quick profit reigns over all else.

Posting as a response to a previous problem.

[bassettmemes]

A GUTS ASK MEME ISN'T A BAD IDEA, RIGHT? prompts from olivia rodrigo's sophomore album, guts (2023) — part 2/2. ↳ trigger warnings for mentions of grooming, abusive relationships (mental/emotion, not physical), eating disorders, body image, and negative self-esteem. some lines have been edited or omitted for clarity and comfort.

LOGICAL.

"Master manipulator, god, you're so good at what you do."

"Come for me like a savior, and I'd put myself through hell for you."

"Hear all the rumors lately that you always denied."

"I fell for you like water falls from the February sky, but now the current's stronger and I couldn't get out if I tried."

"You convinced me it was all in my mind."

"Now you got me thinking two plus two equals five, and I'm the love of your life."

"If rain don't pour and sun don't shine, then changin' you is possible."

"Love is never logical."

"You built a giant castle with walls so high, I couldn't see the way it all unraveled."

"All the things you did to me, ou lied, you lied, you lied."

"The sky is green, the grass is red, and you mean all those words you said. I'm sure that girl is really your friend."

"Lovin' you is lovin' every argument you held over my head."

"You brought up the girls you could have instead

"You said I was too young, I was too soft, can't take a joke, can't get you off."

"I know I'm half responsible and that makes me feel horrible."

"I know I could've stopped it all, God, why didn't I stop it all?"

GET HIM BACK!

"I met a guy in the summer and I left him in the spring."

"He argued with me about everything."

"He had an ego and a temper and a wandering eye."

"He said he's six-foot-two and I'm like, "Dude, nice try"."

"But he was so much fun and he had such weird friends, and he would take us out to parties and the night would never end. Another song, another club, another bar, another dance."

"When he said something wrong, he'd just fly me to France."

"So I miss him some nights when I'm feeling depressed, til I remember every time he made a pass on my friend."

"Do I love him? Do I hate him? I guess it's up and down."

"I write him all these letters, then I throw them in the trash, 'cause I miss the way he kisses and the way he made me laugh."

"I pour my little heart out, but as I'm hitting "send", I picture all the faces of my disappointed friends, because everyone knew all of the shit that he'd do."

"He said I was the only girl, but that just wasn't the truth."

"When I told him how he hurt me, he'd tell me I was trippin'."

"I am my father's daughter, so maybe I could fix him."

"I wanna get him back. I wanna make him really jealous, wanna make him feel bad."

"'Cause then again, I really miss him and it makes me real sad."

"I want sweet revenge, and I want him again."

"I wanna key his car."

"I wanna make him lunch."

"I wanna break his heart, then be the one to stitch it up."

" I wanna kiss his face... with an uppercut."

"I wanna meet his mom, just to tell her her son sucks."

LOVE IS EMBARRASSING.

"I told my friends you were the one after I'd known you like a month, and then you kissed some girl from high school."

"I stayed in bed for like a week when you said space was what you need."

"I waited by my phone like a goddamn fool."

"Now it don't mean a thing. God, love's fucking embarrassing."

"Just watch as I crucify myself for some weird second string loser who's not worth mentionin'."

"My God, love's embarrassing as hell."

"I consoled you while you cried over your ex-girlfriend's new guy."

"My God, how could I be so stupid? You found a new version of me, and I damn near started World War III."

"Jesus, what was I even doing?"

"I placed my bets and it's not worth anything."

THE GRUDGE.

"I have nightmares each week about that Friday in May."

"One phone call from you and my entire world was changed."

"Trust that you betrayed, confusion that still lingers."

"You took everything I loved and crushed it in between your fingers."

"I doubt you ever think about the damage that you did, but I hold on to every detail like my life depends on it."

"My undying love, now I hold it like a grudge."

"I hear your voice every time that I think I'm not enough."

"I try to be tough, but I wanna scream. How could anybody do the things you did so easily?

"I say I don't care, I say that I'm fine, but you know I can't let it go. I've tried."

"It takes strength to forgive, but I don't feel strong."

"The arguments that I have won against you in my head in the shower, in the car and in the mirror before bed."

"Yeah, I'm so tough when I'm alone and I make you feel so guilty."

"I fantasize about a time you're a little fucking sorry."

"I try to understand why you would do this all to me."

"You must be insecure, you must be so unhappy."

"I know in my heart hurt people hurt people."

"We both drew blood, but, man, those cuts were never equal."

"Do you think I deserved it all?"

"Your flower's filled with vitriol, you built me up to watch me fall

"You have everything and you still want more."

"I try to be tough, I try to be mean, but even after all this, you're still everything to me."

"I know you don't care, I guess that that's fine, but you know I can't let it go. I've tried, I've tried, I've tried for so long."

"It takes strength to forgive, but I'm not quite sure I'm there yet."

PRETTY ISN'T PRETTY.

"Bought a bunch of makeup tryna' cover up my face."

"I started to skip lunch, stopped eatin' cake on birthdays."

"Bought a new prescription to try and stay calm."

"There's always something missin'. There's always something in the mirror that I think looks wrong."

"When pretty isn't pretty enough, what do you do?"

"I could change up my body and change up my face, I could try every lipstick in every shade, but I'd always feel the same, 'cause pretty isn't pretty enough anyways."

"You can win the battle, but you'll never win the war."

"Fix the things you hated and you'd still feel so insecure."

"I try to ignore it, but it's everything I see. It's on the posters on the wall, it's in the shitty magazines. It's in my phone, it's in my head, it's in the boys I bring to bed. It's all around, it's all the time and I don't know why I even try."

"I bought all the clothes that they told me to buy."

"I chased some dumb ideal my whole fucking life."

"None of it matters and none of it ends, you just feel like shit over and over again."

TEENAGE DREAM.

"When am I gonna stop being wise beyond my years and just start being wise?"

"When am I gonna stop being a pretty young thing to guys?"

"When am I gonna stop being great for my age and just start being good?"

"When will it stop being cool to be quietly misunderstood?"

"I'll blow out the candles, happy birthday to me. Got your whole life ahead of you, you're only nineteen."

"I fear that they already got all the best parts of me, and I'm sorry that I couldn't always be your teenage dream."

"When does wide-eyed affection and all good intentions start to not be enough?"

"When will everyone have every reason to call all my bluffs?"

"When are all my excuses of learning my lessons gonna start to feel sad?"

"Will I spend all the rest of my years wishing I could go back?"

[tobiasdrake]

We've had a hell of a day and I want to go home. And pour one out for a dear friend.

His death is a heavy weight on all of our hearts. He will be sorely missed. By us. By the Master Detectives. By every booze retailer in town. Truly, Kanai Ward is lesser without him.

That doesn't sound like good guy talk. We've succeeded in bringing an end to the internal strife plaguing Amaterasu, and helped Makoto to consolidate his power into an unapproachable citadel of control.

...let's hope for the best! d(^_^d)

EVERYBODY DIED MAKOTO.

Our boss DIED.

The scientist we were supposed to question DIED.

Vivia LIVED and he's mad about it.

I'm glad you're happy but this was a complete shitshow on my end. Even if you wind up being a well-meaning saint I still kind of hate you for manipulating us into this.

Yomi manipulated Yakou into killing Huesca. Makoto manipulated Yuma into distracting Yomi. The entire Nocturnal Agency was the ball in a game of power between these two rich dipshits today.

I'm mad about it and I want to hit something, but I'm powerless in the face of the corporate machinations that have taken place here. All I can do is go home, cry about it, and pour my grief into a big pot of my arsenic and battery acid stew. T_T It was Chief's favorite.

Maybe YOUR FACE is just a rumor.

...

That comeback hits so much differently when delivered to a man never seen without a mask. At this time, Makoto's face is, in fact, a rumor. There exists no evidence of it being real.

So what I'm hearing is "Anywhere but the Restricted Area." Not the Restricted Area, where we're at now, but the Restricted Area Restricted Area. The one nobody ever goes to, not even Peacekeepers, but there are allegedly shipments of corpses being trucked in.

Where we will most likely find the secret secret lab, instead of this classified secret lab.

Of course, even trying to go there at all is fucking reckless. I don't know how we're going to sell that to Yak--

...

...

T_T

Makoto, that looks like a ring box. So help me, if the next words out of your mouth are "You can give this to Kurumi when you propose" then I'm going straight to prison in the cell next to Yomi.

Yomi: The hell are you in for? Yuma: Punched Makoto square in the dick.

I hope it's a bomb.

I mean. I do not. Hope it's a bomb. For obvious reasons. Because I do not want to open a bomb present.

But if it is a bomb, then at least we'll be able to brush away the ambiguity and know exactly where to stand on the Makoto subject. I would rather know that he's the enemy than continue to have to wonder.

Halara, Yakou's been stone dead for at least ten minutes. You can stop with the chest compressions. There isn't a medical technician in this world that can bring him back from what I-- uh, the deadly assassin Fink did to him.

In seriousness, I talk a lot about how much of a poser Halara is. That they are not an emotionless stoic mercenary but try very hard to give off the image of an emotionless stoic mercenary. The traumatized desperation visible in Halara's unceasing attempts to resuscitate a body that has to be cold by now speaks volumes to the character buried beneath their façade.

We'll go home and pour one out for him.

...does anyone else drink alcohol in this group? We may wind up pouring a lot out for him.

It's okay. We got to say our goodbyes. Don't ask what that means.

BESTIE NO. There's a very important moment of frozen time in recent events! If you make me have to do the Mystery Labyrinth and kill Yakou all over again, then so help me I will give you passive-aggressive silence for at least three days.

...

Come to think of it, Fubuki would be a perfect lifehack answer to the whole "Mystery Labyrinth reaps the soul of the victim" conundrum. We use the Labyrinth, find the deeply held secrets, and then grab her hand and skip back a few seconds over that frozen moment. Bob's your uncle, we know everything and no one had to die for it.

Fubuki can fix the central moral conundrum baked into the premise.

No, he's been through a lot. We spent hours undergoing an important emotional and philosophical journey five minutes ago. He's exhausted. I can't blame him.

This is, once again, the recurring theme. The Mystery Labyrinth reveals tons of information but doesn't help. Whoop-de-dee, we learned about Yomi's corruption in the most secret hidden truth the Labyrinth held. Didn't matter. Makoto already got that information another way and confronted Yomi without our involvement.

The effect is mitigated only because Yakou was already dying. But otherwise it'd be another reaping of a soul for no goddamn reason whatsoever. In chapters 1 and 2, we reaped souls that didn't deserve it. In 3 and 4, the killings we committed contributed nothing of value whatsoever to the predicaments we were in.

Going into the Mystery Labyrinth never does anything good. How could it? It's a murder weapon. That's all it can be. I've been saying non-stop about the Peacekeepers that they are an institution of violence that exists for the sole purpose of violence and cannot be anything but violence. The same is true of the Mystery Labyrinth.

It only exists to kill.

Oh good, Kurumi's here to offer half-informed advice about how it's super-virtuous that Yuma's killing people like this.

Okay Kurumi, I'm not gonna be too hostile 'cause I like you now. Let's hear what you've got.

Oh, no, that has nothing to do with us. Don't even try to blame yourself for that.

In fact, it's the biggest irony of the case. After all that fuss we made, running out the door and trusting that his lanky bones won't keep up with us, it barely even mattered. Yakou's plan for tonight's entertainment was to round everyone up and take them to the same place I snuck out to visit anyway.

In fact, if we hadn't roped Makoto into our shenanigans, everything would have played out the way Yomi planned it, and it would have ended with all of us being shot Halara putting a few more dead cops on my tab.

If you think about it that way, your questionable plan to go ask Makoto to his face if he's doing shady shit was the curve ball that saved the day, Kurumi. You should take a victory lap. You gambled it all on black and came away with a big score.

In a roundabout butterfly-effect chain-reaction sort of way, Kurumi Wendy took down Yomi Hellsmile. Don't fuck with high school girls, man. They're feral.

Do YOU have the answer to Photo Lady's identity!?

Kurumi, you are this close to getting Best Informant in Kanai Ward validation from me. That's not an accomplishment. You're the only informant in Kanai Ward. But still.

BOOM, Photo Lady. Figured it was something like that.

Unfortunately, Huesca was conspiring with Yomi, the head of the Peacekeepers. So. Obviously. The Peacekeepers weren't going to arrest Huesca over it, were they?

No, when you're in a pincer trap like that, there's only one outcome. She fell off a balcony onto some bullets. Accidental death.

Yakou is no different from the Theater Girls in chapter 2. Someone close to him was murdered in a city where justice is a farce. Abusers thrive and victims get fucked. Even murder's just part of the game that unchecked capitalism is playing on its people. What other recourse did he possibly have?

When murder gets rewarded and cries for justice are brutally punished, the only option left to you is to become a murderer.

It explains a lot about his behavior since we got here. Ever since the WDO burdened him with this huge investigation, Yakou's position has effectively been, "Guys, I'm begging you, PLEASE don't get me killed before I do."

I'm not onboard with the overarching message of "Conviction is more important than being right or wrong," which keeps getting brought up. I think a lot of people have done terrible things with absolute conviction in what they were doing. It's good to doubt yourself and question if you're making the right choices.

But as a character beat, I respect this for Yakou. I honestly think, like the Theater Girls, Yakou did nothing wrong. But I can believe that Yakou believed that what he was doing was immoral. That on some level, a part of him was like, "Dude, we're really going to go full murder-suicide?"

But he chose to follow his feelings and do what his gut wanted him to do, even if it's "bad". He was true to himself, to the very end. That's why he was able to face Shinigami's oblivion with a smile on his face.

In a roundabout way, I think Yakou came close to my own philosophy of morality. He just phrased it differently.

[conazo]

Writing Samples.

Interested in RPing as Vox with my Valentino? Read my RP ad here!

1 - In the Beginning

Vox was interesting. The little man seemed to live inside a world of his own design, meticulously manufactured right down to the last excruciating detail. He controlled his public image with about as tight a fist as he controlled the public broadcasting schedule. It was an impressive way to go about one's afterlife.

With that much practice manipulating the way he was depicted, it was no wonder TV-head knew what he was doing in business. The money was good-- no, the money was great. Working with VoxTek over the last few weeks had facilitated more quality recordings and sales than Valentino had managed to secure in years. Their relationship-- strictly financial, defined in ink on paper-- had proven a boon for them both.

Fucking with profits of that magnitude was a fool's game. But shit if Val didn't still feel that itch under his skin, the kind of hot prickle that made him frustratingly restless. He squirmed as the energy thrummed through his veins, clawing at his rational thought. Vox was too perfectly composed. Val wanted, needed, to peel back the layers of his public persona to see the circuitry underneath, to see what made him tick. There had to be more to Vox than a surface image, and Valentino was compelled to expose it out of selfish, morbid curiosity. Maybe he didn't need to see Vox break, but a bend would suffice. Preferably under the tall heel of his boot.

So, the pimp had invited him to the grand opening of their newest joint venture: Club S3NS3. This is a great chance for you to see your marketing dollars at work, he'd purred into his message, pouring honey into every syllable. And you're so smaaart! You can give me honest feedback about the place, make it better. Creatures like Vox loved to be asked for help, loved the opportunity to flaunt their superiority like a badge. I want this to be good for both of us, Val had whispered, sultry-sweet. He'd left the address, a date, and a time. And now, he waited.

He was slouched low in his throne, tucked neatly into the second-floor VIP balcony with thighs spread about as far as they physically could. Tonight, his oral fixation had not one but two vices to satisfy it: a whiskey sour in one hand, the long stem of his cigarette in another. He alternated sampling them with crumbling patience. The club was alive around him, even well after Angel's first performance had concluded. The lights spun, a mass of bodies continued to writhe on the dance floor, and the pair of succubi that flanked him squirmed and fussed for his attention. Valentino ignored it all. From his perch up high, his eyes were fixed on the door, eager for his guest's arrival.

2 - Valentino's Day

It wasn’t that he disliked Valentine’s Day. It just seemed… slightly pointless. Valentino didn’t need an excuse to stick his tongue down anyone’s throat. He didn’t need an excuse to surround himself with overpriced gifts on someone else’s card. But, hey, the holiday did give him an excuse to charge more for he and Velvette’s love potions. It did give him an excuse to decorate the tower’s lobby in his own colors, draping tacky garlands of red and white hearts from every corner to cheekily obscure the egotistical cardboard cutouts set up in Vox’s image.

Maybe most importantly, it gave him an excuse to demand attention. Well. More attention than usual.

“Ah, I think he’s— he’s in the middle of reviewing the broadcasting lineup for the week,” Vox’s assistant chirped, holding his hands up in a desperate plea. Panic made his mismatched eyes huge and round, shoulders hiked up too high to be comfortable.

Val spared him a sidelong glance as he pushed past, lip curled with a hint of disdain. “That’s nice,” he said flatly, ducking to fold himself into the elevator. The assistant opened his mouth to protest again; Valentino wiggled his fingers in a parting gesture as the doors snapped shut. Vox been busy the entire day, today of all days. As long as he wasn’t broadcasting live, a little break wouldn’t kill him. Probably.

When the platform in Vox’s office-studio-security-room eventually descended, it contained exactly one grinning moth demon, two hands folded neatly beneath the curtain of his wings. “Don’t tell me you’re going to be in here all daaay.” Val sang the last syllable, jutting out his lower lip in an exaggerated pout as he approached. That pout soured the closer he moved, his thin veneer of restraint dissolving quickly. He’d been left to his own devices for too long, clearly. “Nothing on those screens can possibly be that interesting. Come out with me before you rot into that fucking chair. We should be at that new club’s opening.”

[hannahssimblr]

Just for fun, I thought I'd list every time that Jude makes reference to Cloda in Lucky Girl hehe

First - 3.14

The waitress who takes our order is my age with a pretty face and blonde hair twisted up into a spiky bun. 

“Alright, so two pancakes.” She says, doing a slight double take when she lifts her eyes from her notepad and fixes them on Jude. “Didn’t think I’d see you here.”

He smiles. “Hi. Yeah, just down to check on the house since the storm.”

“Thought you lived in Germany now or something.”

“Yeah I do, I’m just back for a little while.”

“Oh right.” She wipes her hand on the front of her trousers. “You keeping well and all?” Her name tag is glossy gold. Clóda. 

“Sure, I’m fine. And you? Are you in college?”

“I never went in the end. I work weekends here, and then during the week I’m at the front desk in the resort hotel.”

“That’s cool. It’s nice that you’re staying so busy.” They smile at one another, and then she seems to remember she has things to do. “Right, so.” She says with a self-conscious smile. “I better go back to the till.” We thank her, and as she hurries off I look at Jude, who folds a napkin in half. Then again, pressing the side of his thumbnail along the edge to crease it. 

“Someone you used to know?”

“Yeah. We hung out one summer a few years ago.”

“Right.” There was tension between them. I bet they had sex. I insist to myself that I’m not jealous, but my heart jolts and something thick and heavy settles in my stomach. 

His eyes flicker to mine for a moment, holding incredulity in them and killing any desire I had to ask something else. I don’t dare to feel anything else about this waitress and the summer he spent ‘hanging out’ with her. We both know that I haven’t got the right to. Our unspoken words hang big and heavy between us now, but we don’t say them, opting instead we make benign remarks about the weather, the movement of the sea, the atmosphere in the boat club, and when Clóda returns with our food we talk about that, how it’s tasty but not as tasty as other pancakes we’ve had in more exciting places. 

Second - 3.23

“But here,” I say, “Isn’t it romantic? On this beach in the birthplace of Aphrodite?” I blink up at him and emphasise, “The goddess of love?”

He smirks, “But we don’t have anything to lie on.”

“So?”

“Well I don’t think you’ll like it without having a blanket down. I’m enjoying how eager you are but I think you’ll be happier on a bed in a nice house where there isn’t going to be sand going into places you can’t even imagine.”

The mental image is enough to make me shudder, but still I huff with annoyance, “I feel like you’re ruining the sexy vibe by saying we should go somewhere else.”

“We can do it here if you insist, I just don’t think you’ll like it as much as you think you will.”

“Speaking from experience?”

“Maybe.”

Third - Epilogue

“Well since you don’t care and it has no power over you anymore, maybe you finally ought to know…” He glances quickly around the empty lobby before his eyes slide back to mine and he whispers, “that you were the seventh.”

“The seventh?”

“Is that a good-surprise or bad-surprise?”

“Well I thought it’d be so many more.”

He shrugs, “No, I mean there was the first girl in the playground, then a girl who worked in the tennis club at the beach, a girl from my maths class at school, Michelle, someone from my university, Astrid, and then you-” He pauses, “Wait, there was another one. You were eighth. Seventh and a half.”