#reading through her notes and letters to and from friends was really touching

[zevrra]

never forget—

synopsis: where sebastian is actually worried about MC and regrets casting crucio on them caaaause that moment in the game was not enough for me pfft!

tags: 18(+), lil angst, mostly fluff, sebastian(18) x reader, i didn’t know how to end this oops, one-shot, 2k words.

“Crucio!”

The pain that followed that one little word was excruciating.

Yet the spell casted upon you was of your own doing. You, Ominis, and Sebastian had become good friends since your first day at Hogwarts. Always together, always the 3 of you somehow in trouble. Well, mostly you and Sebastian. Somehow Ominis always managed to get out of the trouble the two of you dragged him into. You were Slytherin after all, it was most likely in your blood.

When you first met Sebastian, he had such an eager to learn that his demeanor was contagious. So much so you couldn’t help but also want to gain more knowledge with him over the years. It was all thanks to Ominis from keeping you two from ending up expelled. Your savior in a sense. But ever since the three of you had become good friends, Sebastian never let up about Salazar Slytherin. He was set on finding his Scriptorium, begging Ominis for so long to show him the way. Seeing as he believed finding it would help cure his sister’s, Anne, curse.

When Ominis had finally given into you both and led the way, the three of you worked wonderfully together. Traversing dark and wary caves. Fending off giant spiders, solving puzzles all that good stuff. Until finally you reach a room with a single note, bones buried in dirt, no way out, the word CRUCIO etched into the stone before your feet, and what looked to be a screaming apparition burned onto a mirror.

You sadly read the note aloud for all to hear. Detailing a grim last few words from Ominis’s aunt. Who unfortunately had gone looking for the Scriptorium, alone, and met an untimely fate. You reach out to gently touch Ominis’s shoulder and he stills beneath your touch.

“I’m so sorry about your aunt, Omni.” You mourn. He nods in acceptance. Nothing they did now could’ve changed what had happened to his aunt. He would at least find some peace in knowing what happened to her.

Sebastian is at your side then. Concerned look on his own freckled face. “Ominis…I know it’s hard. But the letter details using Crucio. You’re the best suited for this—“

“No! I won’t do it. To use Crucio you have to mean it. I will not cast that spell ever again…especially on you two.” Ominis steps away from your reach. Closing off from the activity entirely. You didn’t blame him.

You turn to face Sebastian then who looks..almost disappointed with Ominis's rejection. He gestures for you to follow him closer to the wailing mirror. Hauntingly beautiful, even in its twisted state.

“Well, two options. You cast Crucio on me, or I…cast it on you. It’s the only way we’re getting out of here. We can’t die here and now because of—of morals.” Sebastian whispers to you. The thought of dying in that suffocating tomb alone makes your skin crawl.

Ominis had always been vocal about how horrible any of the killing curses were, especially this spell. Seeing as he was forced to cast it when he was younger. The nightmares still haunt the blonde from what you could tell. His sleepless nights. The flinch at loud noises. It was obvious, whatever you decided, that this would forever weigh heavy on your soul. Yet the spell…could come in handy when facing Ranrok. He was your enemy after all.

You hoped it would never come down to using it though.

“Fine. Teach me the spell but you…you cast it on me. I won’t hurt you Seb.” You mumble. And at first, he’s hesitant. His wand slightly swayed before he reluctantly nods. His hands slightly shake as he teaches you the wave of the wand. He had never performed the dark arts before and this could go very wrong or just really wrong. Either way was going to hurt. But you trusted him.

That’s how you ended up in the here and now. Agonizing pain ripped through your flesh like lightning. Flames behind your eyeballs that force them to shut tight. Hoping to ease the pain away. Your teeth gnash against your lip to hold back screams of pain. It does nothing. Dark magic moves under your skin like writhing red and green tentacles. You gasp between almost suffocating screams.

Breathe in, scream, breathe out.

Your back is against the stone, arched, burning hot. Even as Ominis, or maybe it was Sebastian’s, or both of their hands are grabbing at your arms. Cool fingers press into your hot flesh as the boy’s try to lift you from the floor.

They try to comfort you during one of the worst moments of your life. It doesn’t help. They both fumble as they move you into the room that opened up behind the wailing mirror. The pain is nauseating. Every fumble, correction, and movement makes your stomach churn. Threatening to spill out your lunch. Your consciousness is slowly fading at this point. Stars blinking behind your eyelids as you grasp for whatever you can to stay awake.

Through the pulsing pain in your head and ears, you barely hear the two boys arguing. More or less Ominis yelling about how he was right. How this was a stupid idea as he struggles to help carry you. Ominis can’t see where he steps yet he’s trying so hard to save you now.

“You—you’re both idiots!” Ominis snarls. Struggling with words through his rage and panic. “How could you do something like this!”

“I understand, Ominis! Just—just, Merlin, help me! Help me get to the infirmary!” Sebastian spits back as they continue to fumble around, looking for an exit.

The last thing you hear is Sebastian calling for desperate help before the pain becomes too much and finally takes you under. Passing out from the curse spell later than you would’ve liked.

When concussions come back to you, it’s almost unbearable. Your eyes flutter open but fall closed once again. Maybe you could just stay like that for forever. Lying on a cloud, nice and warm, with your eyes closed. Eh, sounds a little too much like death for your liking.

Thankfully, your second attempt at waking up is far more fruitful. Candlelight flickers rapidly at the edge of your feet as your eyes slowly come into focus. You make out the white sheets laying across your body. Feel the firm mattress against your back. Connecting the dots, slowly but surely, that you were in the infirmary.

Your head moves slightly to continue looking around. Hoping a nurse was close by so you could ask for some water or medicine or anything to make the dull ache in your body stop. Instead your eyes find Sebastian.

His unruly brown hair is somehow even messier than usual. He slumps against the side of your bed and from what you can tell, he might be asleep. Seeing as it was sometime during the night. If you had to guess he probably snuck into the infirmary to be at your side.

Suddenly memories of what happened in the Scriptorium come back to you. Sending a harsh chill down your entire body. The cast of Crucio echoes in the back of your mind. You’ll never forget the feeling. Or the look on Seb’s face as he waved the spell and casted it upon you.

‘Crucio can only be cast if you mean it.’ You remember Ominis’s haunting words. Sebastian must’ve meant it. But you try your best to not blame him. He was just trying to get you all out of that stone grave.

“Seb…” You try to speak. Your throat burns as you attempt to rouse the sleeping man at your side. Voice hoarse, borderline gone, from what you can only assume is from the screaming you barely remember doing. “Sebastian.” You barely manage his full name.

His body shifts at the sound of his name but he doesn’t rise. So you make your way to sit up. Although the moment you prepare to sit up, weight shifting ever so slightly, Sebastian shoots up instantly. His pretty green eyes meet your gaze in a wild look. As if he can’t believe you’re awake. Dried drool sticks to the edge of his lips. You can’t help but laugh. Or what you assume is a laugh. To Seb it probably sounds like you’re coughing.

“I—we—are you okay?” Seb stumbles over his words. Knowing Sebastian, he most likely had something planned to say the moment you woke up. Yet now he was almost speechless. For the first time ever.

“I’m o-okay just…w-water.” You manage to mumble. Now he’s quick to react. A glass of water is held out with lightning speed to you and you take it graciously.

After a moment of what felt like an eternity of being parched, you chug the water given to you, before you hand the glass off and sit fully upright. Your fingers lay in your lap, picking at the cotton of the blanket.

Silence falling between the two of you was so uncommon. It almost felt worse than writhing in pain. Not really but the wall built up was hard to ignore. You needed that wall to come down.

“How long was I asleep?” You ask softly. Breaking the silence as your throat is finally feeling better after some water.

“Three days,” Sebastian replies. He doesn’t look at you. You don’t blame him, not really. The guilt must weigh heavy on his shoulders.

Three days. The fact that it had been days since you had passed out in the scriptorium made your gut twist. You can’t even imagine what rumors must have spread among the school. Or the amount of questions the headmaster will be asking you. Oh you were definitely in for some trouble.

“I’m so sorry.”

Apologies were not something Sebastian was known for. The fact that he was apologizing at all was almost shocking. You didn’t have to guess that he didn’t really mean it when he casted Crucio. It was all just a matter of choices, for you all to survive.

“It’s okay,” Your voice is soft as you speak. “I don’t want you to blame yourself. I agreed to it Sebastian,” You remind him. It only makes Seb angrier with himself.

“Of course I blame myself! I could’ve killed you!” Sebastian says in a strained voice. He wants to scream and yell. He wants you to scream and yell at him. For letting him do something so stupid. For not listening to Ominis in the first place. For being too eager.

“It was a matter of life or death Seb you know that—“ You began to say but he cuts you off as he quickly stands from his chair.

“But what if there was another way!? What if I didn’t have to…didn’t want to—I could’ve changed something!” He angrily hisses as he turns his head away from you.

Silences befalls between the two of you again. Stretched longer than previously as you can’t think of something to say. He had three days to beat himself up for dragging all three of you to that scriptorium. You couldn’t imagine how many scenarios he himself had imagined over and over again while in your slumber.

“What if I had lost you?”

The soft words are barely loud enough to hear. Just a whisper under his breath you almost can’t manage to make out. But you do. The somber confession comes at you like a heavy rainstorm. Unexpected, welcoming, lovely, and a little noisy from his previous minor outburst. Building from a small drop to a straight downpour and you’re caught in the middle of it with no umbrella.

Even in the candlelight you see the tips of ears, beat red as he refuses to look at you. Shoulders tense as he tries to will himself to calm down. It was late, you weren’t supposed to be awake, and he wasn’t supposed to be there. It was not the time for this conversation.

Yet it makes you smile anyway. Butterflies jump around under your skin, in your heart, stomach following suit in doing somersaults. You reach with a gentle hand and grab hold of his shirt sleeve, giving it a tug. For a moment he stands completely still. Debating whether or not it was the right moment to hash all of this out. It wasn’t. Yet a second tug on his sleeve has him turning to finally look at you.

This time when you meet his green eyes, his wild look is gone. He looks at you like you’re the cure to whatever alignment he’s currently experiencing. It’s a saddened, sleepless, relieved look. Feeling every emotion he’s ever felt in his life all in the span of a few short seconds.

You smile fondly at Sebastian, praying he could see it in the soft light of the infirmary. “But you didn’t,” You remind him. Almost gesturing to you, him, and your surroundings. “I’m still here, Seb.”

Sebastian simply nods. Not having the courage to speak for it may bring him to tears. Now that would truly be the end of the world if that happened.

You reach for his hand. Reassuring and gentle as your fingers intertwine with his. He’s stiff as a board at your touch. He has always yearned for it but never had the faith to act upon his feelings.

“Plus, it’ll take more than that to get rid of me.” You say hoping to ease the young man’s feelings. At least for tonight.

A squeeze to your hand is the only response you receive as he returns to his seat. He rests your connected hands on the bed before his head follows suit. Instead of returning to the side of your bed he makes himself comfy on your thigh. You smile at the puzzling picture before you.

The great Sebastian Sallow, a man who rarely asks for any help, unless it involves trekking in some dark cave somewhere, was vulnerably sprawled out on top of you.

You stifle a giggle, fearing if he heard you laugh he would assume the worst and pull away. Instead your free hand pushes through his hair. Pushing away dark curly hair from his freckled face.

“You should return to the dorms before the nurse finds you.” You hum as your eyes scan his own closed eyes. Gazing at the lengths of his eyelashes. Every freckle you could see, thinking how fun it could be to count them one day.

“‘Ts fine,” Sebastian shrugs it off. You hear the softness of his breathing, slowly becoming shallow as he falls asleep. Fast asleep in your thigh with his hand tightly wound to yours. You wish you could have a painting done of this moment. Hoping by every ounce of magic in your veins that you never forget this feeling or the sight. And by Merlin does the sight make your heart ache and pound in equal parts.

You just hoped to never go through something like this ever again. Hopefully Sebastian would see how powerful and dangerous the dark arts could be and look for another solution to healing Anne’s curse. Maybe the ancient magic you wield could help next time instead of turning to the unforgiving curses.

[blushsturns]

perv!matt xinnocent! reader ♡

pt. 2 ‪‪❤︎‬ through the window

description: reader gets a surprise lingerie set in the mail and decides to try it on. matt just happens to catch the sight right in front of his bedroom window.

warnings: this contains explicit content, but it is all consensual! mutual masturbation, smut, some angst, watching through the window action

w/c- 2707

part one found here!

it had been a couple weeks since the movie night at your house with the boys. matt hasn’t said a word to you which wasn’t out of the ordinary for him. in all honesty, you tried to take your mind off of the encounter that happened between the two of you. it was all your brain was consumed of and you weren’t sure how you felt about it.

nick and chris were oblivious to what happened that night and it’s not like you can’t talk to them about it. they’d immediately go to matt with questions and that would put a damper on your friendship and make things really awkward.

when you came home from a grueling day of work, you happened to notice a package outside of your front door. your eyebrows furrowed in confusion as you picked up the package, your fingers running along the polymailer that didn’t have an address on it. the only thing written on it was your name in big letters in messy, unrecognizable handwriting. you looked around the area in case maybe this was a prank and somebody was waiting to jump out at you, but there was nothing and nobody around.

you decided to take the package inside, putting your purse down on the kitchen island before immediately opening up the package that had you in suspense, yet confusion as to what it was. when you opened up the package, your eyes instantly widened in surprise as to what was inside.

inside was a beautiful lacy pink lingerie set. a pink small bow was tied onto the front of the bralette and on the seam of the panties. it was absolutely stunning and you knew it would fit your body and hug your curves in all the right places. you set it down on the table for a brief moment as your eyes then caught a piece of paper inside of the polymailer.

it read: i know you’d look fucking perfect in this.

there was only one person who could’ve possibly sent this to you. matt.

you felt her stomach twinge in excitement, your fingers tracing over the note before placing everything in your hand and walking upstairs into her bedroom.

did matt feel bad for taking your panties, or did he possibly want to see you in the lingerie set? did he think you’d send him a picture or invite him over to her house? all the possibilities ran through your brain as you set it down on your bed. either way, the thoughts of it excited you. you never felt this way before. it almost made you feel more confident, and somewhat powerful.

sure, you’ve had sex before. you’ve had boyfriends who have seen you naked, touched you, and made you feel good, but for some reason, this situation was entirely different. now that you know that matt possibly has some kind of infatuation over you, it made you want to tease him. you wanted to make him feel like he was going insane if he didn’t have you, even if that meant flaunting your short skirts when you’d know you’d be around him.you knew he liked to try and get a peak of what’s underneath. you’ve see him glancing down at her your and averting his eyes up your skirt.

it was flattering that matt took your panties. if it was anyone else, you might be creeped out, but it was matt. one of your best friends. the boy next door. the shy, adorable, handsome boy that always stood out from the rest.

the night the boys came over to watch the movie, you went to get ready for bed once they left. before you fell asleep, you touched yourself wearing a pair of pink lacy panties. your mind was clouded full of thoughts of matt if he was there with you and how he’d touch you if he got his hands on you, how thick and full he’d feel deep inside of you and once you came, matt’s names fell from your lips. you’d hadn’t cum that intensely in awhile.

since then? he was all you could think about.

you quickly decided to take a well deserved shower after a long day of work. work was brutal and sometimes you could hardly stand up from how sore and exhausted you were from the tiring shift. the water felt amazing on your skin and even though you could stay in the shower all day, you were excited to try on the lingerie set when you were dried off.

after your shower, you did your aftercare routine. lotion on your smooth legs, applying your skin care, blow drying your hair and brushing it through. the last thing you needed to do was put on the lingerie. you picked it up in your hands, your fingers tracing over the lace. matt really knew what you liked considering the times he checked you out, seeing what was underneath your mini skirts and stealing your lacy panties.

you looked absolutely amazing. the lace clung onto your skin to hug your curves perfectly and matched your skin tone beautifully. you stood before your long length mirror, taking a couple photos of yourself and making sure to get a shot of the way the panties fit over your plump ass cheeks. you had to admit, you’ve never felt more confident and looked more sexy.

as you walked over to your drapes to shut them because it was getting dark outside, you happened to notice a faint shadow lingering in front of the window across from yours. matt’s bedroom. your heart began to beat rapidly in your chest as your mind began to race with the thought of matt possibly standing before his window, watching you.

you pressed your hands against the surface of your window sill, your eyes focusing in on the window in front of you. if this was matt, he got a good view of your tits that were held firmly in the bralette. the pink lace matched so well with your skin tone, the bra making your tits look even bigger than they already were.

your hair fell over your shoulders as you felt your heart rate pick up speed once the shadowed figure came into view. you were right to think (and pleased about it) that it was matt. you wouldn’t want it to be anyone else, especially since he got this lingerie set for you. why not show it off for him?

your bedroom windows weren’t too far from each other, but not close either. it was at a decent length that he could see everything and so could you, especially if you were right in front of the window. you weren’t sure how to acknowledge him. wave? smile? blow him a kiss? you decided on being subtle, only to tease him with a flirty smile evident on your face.

you rolled some strands of hair around your finger, your eyes staying locked onto the window and boy behind it. you swore you could see his reddened cheeks all the way from your bedroom. he stood there, not moving in an inch, but you knew his eyes were zeroed in on you. how could they not be? you stood there in the beautiful lingerie set that he picked out for you. of course you had to give him some sort of satisfaction.

the confidence and courage built up inside of you. just by staring at him, you knew you had to give him a show. your hand moved down from your neck to your collarbone, your fingertips running across it, suddenly imagining it was matt’s hands. a shudder ran down your spine at the feeling of your own hands against your skin. your hand moved down to your perfectly shaped chest, giving one of your breasts a firm squeeze through the lacy material. your mind was pretending this was matt’s hand, squeezing your breast firmly, his thumb running across your now perked nipple through the material.

a soft gasp emitted from your lips as you pinched your own nipple, feeling it harden against your touch. the lace was sheer and thin, so you felt every bit of sensation against your body from your own touch. your eyes locked onto matt’s in front of you, watching his eyes stare directly at your body and the motions of your own hand. his light was dim, coming from the lamp on his nightstand, but you could see him perfectly clear. he was transfixed on your hand as it moved over to your other breast, giving it the same attention. your body melted into your own touch, a soft moan leaving your lips.

he couldn’t hear your sounds, but seeing it physically drove him insane. he’s been dreaming of seeing you like this for so long.

your fingers drummed down your chest to your belly button and against the hem of your underwear, playing with the pretty bow laced in front of it. your eyes continued to stay on matt through the window and looked down at his already hardened bulge through the material of his gray sweatpants. you really liked when he wore those, or any sweatpants for that matter. despite being awkward and shy, he was fucking hot and you can tell by the looks of it, he had a pretty big dick.

it almost made your mouth water just from the sight as you noticed his hand had moved down as well, beginning to palm himself through the fabric of his sweatpants. you’ve never done anything like this before. you weren’t even physically touching and yet this moment felt so intimate.

the confidence continued to build up inside of you as you moved your index and middle finger down to your center; already hot and beginning to soak through your panties. you began to slowly rub your clit through the lace material in slow, circular motions, causing a soft gasp to fall from your lips at the sensation. it was probably embarrassing how much this was turning you on and how fast it happened, but you felt as if there was this undeniable sexual tension between the two of you that couldn’t be ignored.

you kept your eyes focused on him the entire time, pretending your hand was his. your fingers pressed down a little harder to create extra pressure against your soaking wet clit. soft whimpers left your lips and you suddenly wish he was able to hear the pretty sounds you were making.

matt continued to palm himself through the fabric of his sweatpants. you could tell he was incredibly hard. his cheeks were flushed, his chest rising up and down as he tilted his head over to his shoulder. not once did his eyes leave yours. it was like he wanted this to be engraved into his memory forever and if he blinked, it would be gone. he wanted to cherish this moment for as long as he lived and didn’t want it to end. he didn’t think it was even possible to get you like this and he hadn’t even touched you. not yet.

you were literally soaking through your panties. your chest rose up and down as you took deep breaths, soft moans leaving your lips. this was such a turn on for you. knowing matt could be watching you, staring at you any chance he can get, longing for you, needing you. you wondered if he ever touched himself to the thought of you and maybe used your panties to get off. the thought of that made your tummy flutter with butterflies.

your fingers continued to rub your soaking, throbbing clit through the lacy material of your panties. soft whines and moans escaped your lips, your eyes staying locked onto matt and his hand working his hardened cock through the material. you wondered how your hand would feel around his cock, or maybe your mouth taking every inch of his cock down your pretty throat. did he ever imagine you doing those things to him? you wondered this as you tilted your head onto your shoulder, your heart beating rapidly in your chest.

matt rested one of his hands on the window sill to hold himself up, his other hand squeezing his cock through the material of his sweatpants. the sight was so fucking dirty and hot and it was driving you crazy how you couldn’t touch him. you wondered how he sounded when he was being touched or if he was inside of you. would he call out your name? would he be rough or sensual? make love to you or full on fuck you senseless?

your mind was roaming like crazy and all you could think about was how good he looked and how you wondered how pretty he’d look when he’d cum. you weren’t sure what had gotten into you, but you weren’t complaining at all. not even one bit. you always knew he had a thing for you and the thought of him pining over you was such a turn on. it made you feel powerful and sexy. you never felt that way before with anyone else.

you were incredibly soaked through your panties to the point that it was unbearable. should you invite him over? should you show him your body; something he had longed to see, touch, and feel for so long? he was so desperate for you. you could tell how much he needed this, just by watching him through the window.

just as you were about to slip off your lingerie set, your phone started to ring on your desk, causing your heart to quicken and your body to jolt. you pulled your hand away from your body immediately, moving away from the window to grab onto your phone. for a moment you thought maybe matt had decided to call you to hear you and invite himself over, but your face fell in disappointment when you realized it wasn’t matt. it was nick.

you let out a soft sigh, suddenly disappointed that the moment was over. you picked up the phone and put it to your ear. nick was asking if you still wanted to go to dinner and you had completely forgot that this was planned for weeks and it slipped your mind. your mind was thinking of matt which was unusual for you. you told him you’d still go to dinner with him, not wanting to disappoint him.

you walked over to the window after the short conversation with nick to see matt still standing there, but his hands were at his side. he looked confused, his eyebrows furrowing in confusion as he looked over at you. even though you were also disappointed with the fact that the moment had been ruined, you decided that it wasn’t fair to not at least give him a proper goodbye. it’s the least you could do after putting on such a show for him, only to edge him and leave him hanging. that would only make the next time better, you thought.

your hand lifts in a delicate wave, wiggling your fingers at him before flashing him a flirty smile. he stood there dumbfounded as to what was happening. you close the curtain and turn on your heels, only to walk to the bed and flop down to lie on your back with a slow, yet contented sigh. you lifted your phone up to find matt’s contact in your texts and decided to send him a quick little message.

your fingers glided over the screen quickly as you typed.

“no interruptions next time. i’ll make it up to you. promise. 🤍”

within seconds, matt was responding. your eyes watched the little grey text bubble as he typed, and you couldn’t help but feel your heart flutter in your chest with anticipation. you were beyond eager to see what he’d have to say.

“you owe me. big time. thanks for the little show, sweetheart. looking forward to the next one.”

taglist: @sturnshood @strangelife122 @jessie-essie @giveheavensomehell @rina3476 @chrissturnioloslvt @highsadittyblog

click here to be added to the taglist!

a/n: happy new year everyone! i hope you all have an awesome new year. i’m really proud of this and have been loving writing this AU. if you have any ideas you’d like to see happen, just wanna talk to me about the storyline, or wanna talk in general send me a message in my inbox!

-nessa ღ

[fleurfiles]

cooler than ice | billie eilish

୧ ‧₊˚ you spend the day going ice skating with your girlfriend, though you’re not as good as you thought you’d be.

pairings & aus. billie eilish x fem!reader

warnings. some swearing | billie being a tease

author's note. i haven’t written in months and here i am popping out w a billie eilish fic…i love this woman so much im sorry not sorry !! anyways, enjoy !

a wispy breeze of november bites at your exposed arms as you fold them over your chest, sharp enough to sting but comforting, in an odd sort of a way. you seethe and suck in a cloud of cool air, blowing a plume of it out and turning your head to look at your girlfriend, who had her ring-accented fingers dug into her pockets, turning her own head to smile at you.

neither of you speak, but you approach a huge, blue and white themed building with big letters that read “ice rink,” and you start to reach for the door, but receive nothing but a playful slap on the hand from billie. she grabs it and rubs the freshly-assaulted skin, “what did i tell you about touching doors?”

it’s a rhetorical question, and you can’t help but crack a little smile as the door flies open, even more cool air slapping you in the face, but this time— a little more harsh.

you bite your lip and enter the building, walking up to the accumulating line of people. there were mostly couples waiting— some old, some young, and some not even couples at all, just friends with gleaming smiles on their faces or families who snapped group pictures before buying their entry tickets. you smiled at the sight— and billie noticed this, her expression washed to copy yours.

when it was time for you to grab your skates and buy your tickets, billie swiped her card effortlessly and handed you yours first, so you took them and trotted to the nearest bench where you could put the skates on.

you shifted nervously on them when you pulled them snuggly over your feet, tying the laces real tight and finally standing up. each foot felt like it weighed damn near forty pounds— and you felt even more embarrassed when billie offered you a teasing look, “something wrong, baby?”

“no.” you muttered, the lie slipping through your teeth with a grunt laced within it. you huffed and waiting for billie to stand, and as she did so, she gave you a quick kiss on your head.

“afraid you’re gonna go out there and bust your ass?”

a defensive scoff leaves you as billie starts to stand on the ice, effortlessly gliding across the rink and circling back, resting in front of an opening for you to join her, but you’re reluctant. you stare at her for a second— mainly because she looks so pretty. her dark hair was slicked back into a high ponytail, and she was clad in an oversized blue sweater and a pair of dark-wash jeans, with, of course— a borderline unnecessary amount of jewelry.

you were captivated by her, and she could tell, so she gave you a teasing smile, “get on the rink, babe.”

“i’m just gonna…take my time.” you murmur, bending down to tighten your laces for the third time, although they were already tight enough.

billie didn’t buy your shit, though. she knew that you were scared, so she reached out a hand for you and as you grabbed it, she yanked you onto the rink, but pressed your body against her warm one. you yelped, earning a couple concerned looks from other skaters, but billie shushed you.

“i’m not gonna let you go baby, i promise.” billie laughed, though it was a little mocking, because she immediately turned you loose and began to skate off, giggling to herself as she looked back, leaving you looking like bambi on ice.

it was borderline pathetic, really, how you were looking on that rink— cold with no jacket in sight, knees wobbling, and ankles giving out, while your girlfriend skated effortlessly, lapping you around the establishment twice.

you pouted when she made her way back over to you.

“look at you,” she says, smirking, “you kinda look like a baby deer. it’s cute, honestly.”

“you’re such an ass.” you mutter, but there’s a heat crawling up your neck that has nothing to do with a change in temperature. embarrassment flooded you— even though you weren’t the best at ice skating, you at least thought you wouldn’t be this bad to where you would stand in the same spot for five minutes. it was hopeless now, so you turned to your girlfriend and frowned, “bils…”

as if reading your mind, she nodded, interlocking her fingers with your own after shedding herself of her coat and placing it around your shoulders, instantly warming you up, “yes, i’ll teach you how to skate.”

“thank you!” you gleam, “i really wanted to do this together. but i’m clearly not as talented as you are.”

billie laughs, “can’t be the best at everything. well, you can’t— but that’s okay, you’ll get used to it.”

you glance at her with soft eyes as she pulls you out onto the icy rink, teaching you how to sway your hips and rock your feet to a solid rhythm to keep you level and moving steady. with her hands on your waist and her chin on your shoulder, you quickly pick up the new skill. she’s so proud of you, and the both of you are so in sync with your movements that you predict hers before she even makes them.

she’s beautiful— her hair now swaying in the cold wind blows past you both as you begin to pick up speed, and although she’s really guiding y’all, you can’t help but feel proud of yourself for getting the hang of it so fast.

“you tired yet?” billie had asked you a couple minutes later, and you nodded truthfully, telling her that your ankles were starting to ache a little bit. so she led you guys off the rink and to a bench, where you rubbed your achilles with swollen, cold fingers.

“this shit is awful.”

“why awful?” your girlfriend inquired as she took her skates off, wiggling her toes through her long fuzzy socks, which made you roll your eyes with a halfhearted laugh.

you shrugged, “i didn’t know it was gonna be this cold.”

“so, actually,” billie started, and you knew she was going to say something smart-assy because that’s always what would preface such a statement, “we’re in a literal ice box, did you think it was gonna be warm in here? i also vividly remember telling your ass to bring a coat, because you know you get cold everywhere you go.”

“i do not!” you protested, but it was short-lived, immediately executed by the look that the blue eyed girl gave you. but winning the argument didn’t even matter to you anymore, you just offered her soft, sweet eyes, relishing in such a beautiful moment with her.

“you’re staring again.” she whispers, though there’s no real sign of a complaint from her, it’s more informative.

“maybe you’re just worth staring at.”

it comes out so natural, your compliment towards her— and you can tell it melted her heart by the way her arms snake around your waist, pulling you in eagerly to pepper kisses all over your cheeks. you squeal into her shirt as she finishes her mission to peck every single little inch of exposed skin on your face before planting a loving kiss on your lips.

“i love you.”

“i love you too.” you murmur as billie eventually pulls you into another slow glide against the rink, the cold air and her warmth intertwining in a way that made your heart swell.

[scoutofmymind]

hey babe I’m not the anxiety attack req anon but wow do I need to read that!!!!!

That Funny Feeling — { Luigi x Reader}

Content: panic attacks, anxiety disorder, sweetie boy Luigi, friends to lovers, Disney World (lol), Ms. Anxiety is referred to as ‘her’, Bo Burnham lyric reference, lots of pet names, comfort

Wc: 4,101

Notes: You and Luigi have known each other for over a decade, and in that time, Luigi has found himself rather well versed in handling your anxiety attacks. But what sets him apart isn't just his ability to help you through these moments — it's his perspective on them.

Hello my pookies. This request is super recent but I felt compelled to write it! As someone who struggles with anxiety (especially during winter months) I felt generally responsible for portraying the feeling of anxiety disorder as realistically as possible, and with that being said, please take care of yourself — if you think reading this will cause any anxiety, or trigger you in any way, please do not read!

There’s plenty of other things to read on my bloggy 💕

I deleted this original ask on accident, if it wasn’t already obvious, so original anon (maybe) responded to my Hail Mary with another ask:

Now I’m thinking I had several anons asking about anxiety attack reqs bc the original was just a general request (no mention of an exam or gettin freaky) about reader having an anxiety attack and being comforted by Luigi through being his sweetie self and physical touch.

Anyway, I added a good girl for you, anon. 💋

There it is again, that funny feeling.

That funny feeling.

You still remember the first one.

Where all of it started.

Disney, of all places, where dreams were supposed to come true, or whatever.

You and Luigi were dancing around the Just Friends label, though his willingness to endure a fourteen-hour road trip with your family spoke volumes. He'd claimed the passenger seat next to you without hesitation, making this his third family vacation with yours.

Your parents drove ahead in their own car, leaving you to manage your bickering tween siblings with Luigi as your sole ally.

The separate cars were your mother's idea — a stroke of genius, really.

After last year's catastrophic drive to the beach with everyone crammed into one minivan, personal space had become a priority. Your father had joked it was for everyone's sanity, but you knew it was mostly for his.

Looking back, the warning signs had been writing themselves across your day in bold letters you didn't yet know how to read. Strange sensations you'd never experienced before crept in at the edges — moments where the lines on the pavement seemed to ripple and dance, pulling your focus until the world around you blurred.

There were seconds, terrifying and fascinating all at once, where you felt yourself floating somewhere above your body, so disconnected from the earth that your own name became a foreign whisper in your mind.

The tingling started subtle — a live wire of sensation that would spark without warning, racing up your spine like lightning searching for ground.

It would burst at the base of your skull, sharp and electric, gone almost before you could process it.

These symptoms, these peculiar feelings that should have set off alarm bells, you dismissed as exhaustion, dehydration, anything but what they really were.

Honestly, Disney hadn't exactly topped your travel wishlist — you'd dreamed more of quiet European cafes or hidden mountain trails — but you'd sooner wrestle an alligator than voice any complaint about being at the self-proclaimed happiest place on earth.

Besides, there was something almost supernatural about the way Disney's magic worked its way under your skin, seeping into your bloodstream with each step closer to the kingdom.

The transformation from cynic to believer happened somewhere between the parking lot and your hotel room, as if crossing that threshold stripped away your carefully cultivated teenage skepticism.

Suddenly you were giddy with possibility, enchanted by the little touches that made everything feel surreal — Mickey-shaped waffles that were too cute to eat, chocolate-dipped strawberries appearing like edible rubies on your pillow, and Luigi's laughter mixing with yours as you both sprawled across crisp hotel sheets, talking well past midnight despite knowing tomorrow's alarm would be merciless.

But it was nothing caffeine couldn’t fix.

"C'mon," Luigi's voice carried that edge of concern you'd grown familiar with lately, his elbow gentle against yours as you sat at the hotel's breakfast bar. His dark brows pulled together, creating that little wrinkle you usually found endearing. "That's your second espresso."

You knew exactly what prompted this — either that pretentious health documentary he'd made you watch last week, or those endless conversations with his med school friends.

The last thing you needed was an interrogation before your first ride, especially from someone who'd once tried to survive finals week on nothing but Red Bull and prayer.

"It's basically just a double shot, Lu," you murmured, your voice honeyed with practiced patience. You speared a chunk of pineapple with your fork and lifted it to his lips — a tried and true distraction technique. "People do it all the time." The people in question being you, most mornings before school, but you kept that detail to yourself.

Some lectures weren’t worth inviting, and you were running out of time to get the most out of the breakfast bar, at least with the crammed itinerary your siblings had planned.

The sensation hit you almost the moment you passed under the wrought-iron gates.

The press of bodies, the shuffle-step of crowds being herded through winding queues, it all started to feel suffocating.

That strange disconnection from earlier crept back, stronger now, but you pushed it down. Blamed it on the Florida heat, on too much sun, on too little sleep — on anything but what it really was. But then the world started to narrow, your vision tunneling until all you could see was a pinprick of light ahead, everything else fading to a nauseating blur of color and movement.

You fled.

No destination in mind except away, away, away from the crushing weight of too many people in too little space.

Luigi had been waiting in line for god knows what when he noticed you'd vanished.

He found you later — minutes or hours, time had lost all meaning - wedged between two meticulously manicured topiaries. Donald Duck and Goofy's cheerful forms cast dappled shadows over your huddled figure as you pressed your head between your knees, desperately trying to remember how breathing was supposed to work.

Each gasp felt like trying to suck air through a coffee stirrer, your lungs burning with the effort of simply existing.

The moments after he found you exist only in fragments, like a film reel with missing frames.

Your focus had narrowed to the simple task of staying conscious, counting breaths that refused to fill your lungs properly. But you remember Luigi's panic with startling clarity — the way his usual steadiness shattered into sharp-edged fear.

He'd never seen anyone like this before, and the sight of you — normally so composed — crumpled between cartoon shrubbery sent him spiraling. His voice pitched higher, words tumbling out faster, convinced your heart was stopping or your brain was hemorrhaging or any number of catastrophic scenarios his medical friends had planted in his mind.

It wasn't until you'd gone completely still, retreating so far into yourself that even his increasingly frantic questions couldn't reach you, that real terror seized him.

The last thing you registered was the sound of his footsteps pounding against pavement as he sprinted away, shouting for help.

He'd left you there, alone in your private apocalypse, while the happiest place on earth continued its cheerful orbit around your collapsing world.

Somewhere nearby, a child laughed.

A parade song played.

And you forgot how to exist.

Over the years, you became fluent in the language of your anxiety — learning its dialect of triggers and tells.

Though most attacks still ambushed you without warning or reason, appearing like sudden summer storms in a clear sky, there was a growing anthology of things to approach with caution; hot and crowded spaces, lack of clear exits, too many consecutive nights of poor sleep, too many drinks the night before. Some rules could bend; others were steel-rigid boundaries you'd learned to respect.

Luigi, ever the engineer at heart, remained steadfastly convinced that those two espressos had been the match that lit the powder keg that morning at Disney.

He'd quote studies about caffeine's effects on the sympathetic nervous system, ticking off statistics about heart rates and cortisol levels with the same intensity he once used to memorize roller coaster heights.

You'd let him have his theory — it was easier than arguing, and his concern came from a place of love.

In the decade since that morning in Disney, Luigi has watched you wage war with an enemy he can't see or touch.

For someone whose world operates in binary — in clean ones and zeros, in problems that can be debugged and solved with enough careful coding — watching you battle something so abstract and unpredictable has been its own kind of torment.

"I mean it," he'll say, dark eyes serious in that way that still makes your heart skip, even after all these years. "If I could just understand the variables, map out the function that triggers it..." He trails off, but you know what he means.

Luigi has always believed in learning through data, in breaking down problems into manageable chunks until a solution presents itself.

But you've made him promise never to wish this on himself.

There are some kinds of knowledge that come at too high a price.

Still, watching him move through life without this constant companion of fear sometimes fills you with a complicated mixture of relief and envy; his brain doesn't betray him with false alarms and imagined catastrophes, and it doesn't make him better — you both know that — but God, there are days when you'd give anything to experience that kind of mental quiet, even if just for an hour.

Dinner at a Michelin-starred restaurant had become almost routine when organized by Luigi's circle — a mix of brilliant minds who'd evolved from awkward coding camp kids into successful engineers, plus their equally accomplished partners.

The old social anxiety that used to accompany these gatherings had faded to background noise, manageable enough to let you focus on the menu rather than escape routes.

In fact, nothing lately had set off your internal alarm system.

No triggers lurking in dark corners, no unexplained spikes of dread.

For the first time in recent memory, your mind felt.. Well.. Quiet.

Your therapy journal — a habit maintained since the Disney incident — reflected this unprecedented peace.

The past few weeks had been remarkably clear, like someone had finally adjusted the lens through which you viewed the world, even compared to your good years, this period stood out as exceptional. A far cry from that morning a decade ago when you'd found yourself becoming intimately acquainted with topiary versions of Donald Duck and Goofy.

But there she is, joining the table unannounced — anxiety, that vindictive ex who always seems to know exactly when you've finally stopped checking over your shoulder; the moment you dare to relax, to think maybe you've somehow outgrown her, she kicks down your door without so much as a courtesy knock.

It starts in your chest, right after a sip of wine — expensive stuff, carefully selected by the sommelier with his practiced French pronunciation; one moment you're admiring the way the wine catches the light, and the next, your ribcage feels like it's being crushed in a vice.

Oh, fuck.

Your mind immediately launches into its familiar spiral of worst-case scenarios, each thought more catastrophic than the last.

When did you last have wine?

Could you have developed an allergy?

Is this anaphylaxis?

Your throat isn't closing up, but maybe it will.

Should you be able to feel your heartbeat this clearly?

Is this what the beginning of cardiac arrest feels like?

The rational part of your brain — the part that's been through this dance a thousand times — tries to remind you that you're fine, that this is just anxiety's signature move.

But panic has always been louder than reason.

Luigi presses his temple against the side of your head, that familiar gesture of affection he's perfected over the years. Like some oversized, obsessed feline marking his territory, "What you gettin'?" His warmth bleeds into your skin. "You've been here before, right?"

But you're too busy wrestling with your own mind to fully process his presence.

No, you're not dying.

You're not dying.

You are not dying.

But what if..

Stop it.

Please, not here.

Not now.

His words filter through your panic in fragments, like trying to catch radio signals through static.

Been

here,

right?

"Mm-hmm." The sound escapes like a breath you'd forgotten to release, your head bobbing in what you hope passes for a normal nod.

The menu before you becomes your anchor, though the carefully curated descriptions of dishes blur and swim across the page, words dissolve into abstract shapes, then into nothing at all as your vision tunnels inward, focused on the growing storm in your chest rather than the $95 risotto description you're pretending to contemplate.

Around you, life continues its normal rhythm.

Someone laughs at a joke about crypto drama, wine glasses clink, a story about a failed startup makes its way around the table, but you're watching it all through thick glass, separated from reality by an invisible but impenetrable barrier that arrived unprompted and appears to have packed for an extended stay.

"Mm-hmm what, angel?" Luigi's voice cuts through the fog like a lighthouse beam, momentarily illuminating a path back to shore, and you blink to find it again while your shoulders automatically square in an attempt at casualness that feels as obvious as a neon sign. "You with me?"

He's learned over the years to modulate his voice just so — keeping the concern tucked beneath layers of practiced calm. Luigi knows now that panic is a mutiny; your mind's crew turning against its captain, led by powder monkeys convinced each breath might be their last.

In these moments, you're a ship without stars to guide you, your internal compass spinning wild and useless.

He's discovered that once the storm hits, there's no turning back to safer harbors, no amount of retracing your wake will stop the waves from coming.

The panic has to run its course, has to drag you through its depths before it will release you back to the surface.

Like a riptide, fighting only exhausts you faster — you have to let it carry you out before you can swim parallel to shore and break free.

This is what your therapist tells you, what Luigi reminds you, what you know somewhere in the rational corner of your mind that's still functioning.

There's no fighting the abduction when it comes.

Resistance only makes the ship sink faster.

But believing it while you're drowning?

That's still a lesson you're still learning.

Your focus narrows to a single champagne bubble in Luigi's glass, watching it rise with desperate fascination, as if this tiny sphere of effervescence holds the secret to staying grounded. Your chest constricts further, every sense heightened to painful clarity — the scratch of silk against your skin, the too-loud clink of silverware, the overwhelming scent of truffle from three tables away.

Your body screams warnings in a language you're fluent in by now, though you wish you weren't.

The message is always the same.

This is it. This is how you die.

"Just have to go to the bathroom." The smile you manage feels like origami folded from sandpaper, but you place your napkin on the table with practiced grace.

Even as your insides are being shredded by panic, your muscle memory remembers its manners.

You navigate your exit with the poise of someone whose nervous system isn't currently attempting a coup, only to discover what can only be described as panic attack architecture at its finest — a single stall bathroom, complete with what appears to be a leather wingback chair, because apparently this is the kind of establishment where people need to sit contemplatively while powdering their nose.

Some interior designer's questionable choice about bathroom furniture has just become your salvation.

Later, when you're back to being a person who can form coherent thoughts, you'll want to write a thank you note to whoever decided that this bathroom needed a seating area.

Right now, though, all you can focus on is the mechanical process of existing; spine straight against the leather, shoulders rolled back, lungs remembering their one job.

Time dissolves into a blur until a familiar silhouette materializes before you — all black turtleneck and chocolate waves, appearing like a storm cloud in reverse.

Luigi crouches, his words filtering through your panic; a light through murky water. "You didn't lock the door." It's not an accusation, just gentle explanation.

"Worked in my favor, though." His forearms settle across your lap, warm and solid, while his fingers wrap around your torso with practiced care, his thumbs finding their place beneath your ribs, pressing with deliberate pressure — a physical tether to the present. "Feel that?" He looks up at you from his crouch, studying the vacant expression he's come to know like a seasonal forecast. "Where am I?"

Where am I?

Where am I?

Where am I?

The question echoes through the static of your mind like another signal cutting through the white noise.

It's become your lifeline over the years — Luigi's idea, one of his elegant solutions to a complex problem, the kind of simple brilliance that's pulled you back from the undertow countless times.

"You're in my belly." The words come out barely above a whisper, but they're there. You focus on the steady pressure of his thumbs against your skin, the thunderous beating of your heart against them, proof that you're still here, still existing, still breathing.

He hums softly, a gentle "Mm-hm, good girl." that doesn't quite reach through the chaos of your thoughts, but his thumbs pressing steadily into your sternum somehow breach the mutiny of your mind. "Where am I now, darling?"

Your brows knit together as new anxieties stack themselves like stones — the table of colleagues wondering about your extended absence, the inevitable questions about Luigi's disappearance, the mounting social debt of disrupting such a carefully orchestrated evening.

"My chest." The words escape as a whimper, and Luigi's expression shifts with recognition.

He knows exactly where she's made her nest tonight — that malevolent stowaway, that hijacker of peaceful moments, that pirate who turns calm waters treacherous without warning. She's taken up residence behind your ribs, squeezing your heart like it's treasure she means to keep.

"Mm — yeah," he breathes between a gentle nod, one palm spreading wide across your sternum, the other a steady presence on your back.

The pressure feels overwhelming for a split second, like being caught between two closing walls, but then- "Breathe with me, baby." His voice is low, steady. "Breathe in for me."

Through the crackling fizzle of your thoughts, his voice cuts through like a clean line of programmed commands, and you draw air in through your nose, your body remembering this familiar subroutine even when your mind is caught in an infinite error loop.

"Out." He demonstrates, his own exhale warm against your skin as he presses his nose to your cheek. A soft, approving hum vibrating through him when you complete the cycle — one successful execution of this breathing protocol you've practiced countless times.

For the next six minutes, your world narrows to this simple command-and-response; his gentle prompts, your body's gradual remembrance of how to operate its most basic function.

Input, output.

Inhale, exhale.

Reality still feels like you're underwater, everything distorted and just out of reach.

The sensation draws a physical response — your fingers curling into the soft wool of Luigi's sweater, anchoring yourself to something tangible, your brows pinched together. "I'm-" The apology dies as the first tears breach your defenses, and you remember belatedly that Luigi's already witnessed every shade of your darkness.

"Shhh," he soothes, rubbing solid circles into your chest while the strap of your dress slides rebelliously down your shoulder. The scene would be quite the tableau for any accidental witness — especially since Luigi hadn't thought to lock the door after pointing out your own oversight. "We gotta get her out of there." His lips curve into a gentle smile.

The her being that wicked thing that's made a home in your chest, coiled around your lungs like a python, squeezing tighter with each passing second.

"It's always at the worst times." Your voice emerges paper-thin as you stare at the ceiling, fighting against tears that threaten to break free; you know if you let go now, you might flood this whole restaurant with the weight of your shame. "I'm so sorry."

Luigi shakes his head, though your gaze remains fixed upward.

"Look at me," he whispers, nudging his nose against your neck to encourage you to look away from the ceiling while his hands maintain their steady orbit — one drawing circles into your chest, the other tracing constellations between your shoulder blades. When you finally lower your head, he meets you halfway, forehead pressing to yours. "You never need to apologize for this." His nose brushes yours, a gentle reassurance, before his lips find your cheek. "There is nothing to be sorry for."

But there is, and the weight of it sits heavy in your throat.

Because you are sorry.

You're horribly, terribly sorry for all the moments Luigi has sacrificed to tend to you — his hands learning the maps of your distress across chest, head, and belly, working to exorcise that wicked presence.

You've pulled him from meetings, from deadlines, from life itself.

He's tracked your hazard lights down empty highways, found you pressed against brick walls in city alleyways, breathing into paper bags.

He's always been right there, though.

And every episode has refined his expertise, until caring for you in crisis has become as natural to him as breathing — though that knowledge only adds another layer to your guilt.

Sometimes you worry — no, that's not right. You're always worrying — about what would happen if this all fell apart.

If Luigi woke up one morning and decided he was done being your sanctuary, done pressing his thumbs into the spaces where your demons nest, done chasing away the thing that makes your heart hammer and your fingers go numb.

What if one day he craves simplicity — a love story without footnotes, without having to keep a mental catalog of triggers and remedies, without having to scan rooms for exits and quiet corners just in case she decides to visit.

But in reality, Luigi doesn't carry these thoughts at all.

Not even a whisper of them.

To Luigi, loving you isn't a burden — it's as natural as the way his hands know exactly where to press, as inevitable as his instinct to follow when you disappear.

He doesn't see himself as a therapist or an exorcist.

He sees himself as the person who gets to love you, who gets to be there when you're strongest and when you're struggling to remember how to breathe.

Every time he finds you — whether it's in bathroom stalls or behind steering wheels or pressed against alley walls — he’s not thinking about what he's missing; he’s thinking about how brave you are, how you keep fighting even when your mind turns traitor.

He's thinking about how you still show up, still try, still love with your whole heart even though this disorder has taught you how quickly things can shatter.

You see yourself as a compilation of crises.

He sees you as complete.

Where you count the times he's had to rescue you, he counts the times you've trusted him enough to let him in during your darkest moments.

Your fear of being too much is met with his certainty that you're exactly enough.

"You know what I think about?" Luigi murmurs against your temple, his hands still tracing those steady circles. "I think about how strong you are. How you feel everything so deeply, and still get up every morning. Still love so fiercely." His voice drops lower, meant just for you. "Still choose to trust me with this part of you."

One of his hands slides up to cup your face, thumb catching a tear before it can fall.

You're still trembling, but it's different now — like aftershocks rather than the main event. "Remember our first real date? When we decided after three years to stop playing the just friends shit?” He asks suddenly, a soft smile playing at his lips. "When you had a panic attack at the theater, and I found you outside?"

He doesn't wait for your response, knowing how words still feel too heavy on your tongue.

"You apologized then, too. But all I could think was how brave you were, coming back in to finish that awful movie." His forehead presses against yours again. "That's when I knew, you know. That I wanted to be the person that would always find you.” You sniffle gently, reaching your hands to cradle his face into them as he continues, "I'm not going anywhere."

Your breath catches — not from panic this time, but from the sheer weight of his words settling into your chest.

They nestle there, pushing against the lingering tightness, making space for something warmer.

"But I-" you start, the familiar litany of apologies rising to your lips like muscle memory, and Luigi shakes his head, the movement gentle against your forehead.

"No buts," he says softly, firmly. "Remember what we talked about? No apologizing for the way your mind works." His fingers trace the line of your jaw, steady and sure. "I see you surviving. And I see you letting me be part of that. Do you know how much trust that takes?"

"I keep waiting," you whisper, the words barely audible, "for it to be too much."

Luigi's laugh is soft and tender. "And I keep waiting for you to realize that too much isn't in my vocabulary.“

[roosterforme]

Covering the Classics Part 7 | Bob Floyd x OC

Summary: Just when Anna starts to feel settled, a simple cookout at her friend's house turns everything upside down. Her jealousy shines through, and there's nothing she can do to try to take it back.

Warnings: Fluff, angst, adult language, masturbation, eventually 18+

Length: 4800 words

Pairing: Robert "Bob" Floyd x Female OC (this story is part of the Beer Boy/Sugar and Jake/Jessica universe)

Covering the Classics masterlist. Check my masterlist for more! Thank you to @mak-32 for the beautiful banner!

Things with Bob felt like they shifted back to normal again, and Anna was thankful for that. Every book she let him borrow was returned with a note folded up inside. Some of them were short and simple. When he handed back Love Letters of Great Men, the note simply said The dog eared pages are going to make me cry. But some of them were longer and more elaborate.

She was running a little late to meet him at the usual coffee shop, worried he would already be there. He seemed to end up paying for her drink every single time, which was honestly really sweet of him, but she felt like such a nuisance. When she walked inside, he was there, at a table with two steaming mugs in front of him and his nose buried in a book. In one of Anna's books. In her copy of Wuthering Heights.

Her whole body felt too warm as she thought about how much she would love to have Bob read every single one of the hundreds of books she owned. Maybe even read some parts out loud in that deep, soothing voice. She would love to hear his take on each plot and watch him blush as he called her the expert and asked for her opinions. She would love to take the book from his hands and pull him down into bed with her.

But she couldn't do that. They were just friends. So instead, she dropped down into the empty seat across from him and said, "Hi, Bob," with a smile she hoped wasn't as sad as she felt.

"Anna." Her name sounded like golden perfection when he said it, and she shivered. "This book... I can't stop reading it. I read it twice already," he said with a little laugh. "How in the world do you always know exactly what I'm going to like?"

Because she felt undeniably drawn to him and his preferences and everything about him.

"Because I'm a professional."

He laughed a little more as his pretty lake-blue eyes followed her cup as she brought it up to her lips. When the ceramic touched her, he looked away as his cheeks grew pink. He pushed the book across the table, and when she reached for it, he said, "Uh, just read that note later, okay?"

When she saw the edge of white paper sticking out from the worn pages, she said, "Sure, Bob."

He cleared his throat a little awkwardly. "Did you hear about the change of venue for tomorrow?"

Anna ducked her head. "Yeah, the girls told me about it at lunch yesterday. A cookout? Bradley wants to show off his new grill?"

Bob nodded and said, "Could be a nice change from the Hard Deck for once."

While he wasn't wrong, Anna hated that she still barely had enough money to make ends meet. San Diego was expensive, and when she asked Advanced Calculus what she could bring with her to their house to contribute to the meal, her friend said to bring hot dog and hamburger buns. Anna was already trying to figure out how to scrape together the ten dollars that would be required when Jessica said she already bought some along with chips and pretzels. When she didn't quite meet Anna's eyes, she knew for a fact that Jessica had figured her out.

"Yeah. I suppose," Anna told Bob. But at least at the Hard Deck, Penny didn't usually even charge her for the three dollar ginger ales. And if she did, one of the guys just put it on their tab like it was nothing. When she showed up empty handed to the cookout, she was going to feel awful that Jessica had covered for her. 

"You want another coffee?" Bob asked, standing with his own mug, but Anna shook her head. She couldn't let him pay for another thing. Perhaps deleting multi millionaire Dev Borah's phone number wasn't her best move. Not that she would ever take advantage of someone for their money. Not after what Kevin did to her.

"No. But thank you. I actually can't stay very long today."

Bob nodded before saying, "No worries. I have dinner plans with Suzanne before Mickey picks me up for D&D anyway."

And there it was once again. The reminder that Bob didn't think about that kiss nearly as much as she did. "I hope you have a great time."

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

It was late on Saturday night, and he should have been in bed, but Bob had his computer out. He reasoned that he could sleep in as late as he wanted tomorrow before heading to pick up the burgers Bradley asked him to bring for the cookout. He could stay up as long as it took for him to finish this poem and finally post it on PoetsAmongUs after looking at it for weeks.

If anyone knew he was writing about Anna, he would probably die on the spot. But nobody in his life knew he wrote anything in his free time, let alone the fact that he wrote poetry. And this poem was getting close to needing a 'mature' label if he was going to post it online.

"What are you doing?" he asked himself softly. Somehow he believed that writing about her specifically would cleanse him of these thoughts, but now he knew he was wrong. He proofread and posted his poem anyway while his skin prickled with need. He'd never experienced the kind of love his friends had, and in spite of all of her hesitations, he could imagine it happening with Anna. If anything, he liked that she seemed cautious and contemplative, he just wished she wasn't still that way toward him. 

She made him want to keep leaving her notes in the books he borrowed from her, but she also made him feel like an idiot for wanting to do that. It was maddening. He needed to sleep, but he was too warm, imagining Anna once again in place of his faceless lover while he touched himself. He almost couldn't wait until the day when someone else would take her place in his mind, even if it meant settling.

The next day, he drove his old pickup toward the coast with the burgers and a six pack of ginger ale in tow. The Spanish revival style house that Bradley purchased before he and his wife made things official again was cute with desert landscaping, but she was the one who really made it a home. There was art hanging on the walls in every room, including a panoramic watercolor of the scenery of Virginia. The front bedroom had been turned into her home office, and for some reason, she had Bradley's fraternity paddle hanging in there. The house seemed more lived in now, and Bob knew Bradley was much happier for it.

"Hey, thanks man," Bradley told him, taking the bag of burgers when he got there. He was wearing his hideous Grateful Dead shirt and holding two cans of beer on one hand, but he still managed to give Bob a quick hug. "Sugar's out back, setting up some snacks and just generally looking hot. You want a beer?"

Bob held up the ginger ales in response and said, "Thanks, but I'll just have one of these for now." The last thing he wanted was a hangover like he had after their New Year's Eve party.

"Hi!" Jessica said as she and Jake walked inside, and she made a beeline right for Bob. "Have you given any more thought to how I should paint my barbarian?"

He just smiled as she started to push him through the kitchen toward the back door. "We just played yesterday. I didn't know you'd still be in the mood to talk about your ridiculous D&D character."

"Please," she practically whined. "You know how sensitive my barbarian is."

Bob snorted; truly he never would have expected he and she would have had so much in common, but even Jessica couldn't keep his attention once he saw who Bradley's wife was talking to. Anna had some freckles on her thighs. Her cutoff denim shorts went high enough up her legs that he was treated to the sight of freckles everywhere. And that wasn't all. Not even close. The deep "V" of her shirt revealed that there was a pretty good chance the freckles even trailed down inside her bra.

He wasn't going to survive the cookout if he had to look at her all afternoon. Her red hair was clipped up on top of her head with some sort of claw-shaped thing, and her skin was just everywhere. Her neck and her legs and the swell of her breasts. Her fingernails were burgundy again, just like the first day he saw her. She hadn't even noticed him yet, which was terrible, because if she had, he would have looked away by now. Instead he was given ample opportunity to memorize the way her legs looked as she shifted her weight from one foot to the other, shuffling her beat up sneakers a bit along the patio.

"Oh," Jessica whispered, squeezing his bicep gently when he stopped responding to her. "Yeah, that'll do it." Her tone sounded slightly sympathetic, and it made Bob so self conscious. "Let's go say hi."

He shook his head jerkily and muttered, "In a second." Anna was currently laughing, head thrown back in delight, and Bob got the briefest peek at the strip of skin above her shorts and her bellybutton, and his brain actually stopped functioning. When she tipped her head forward again, an overjoyed smile still on her lips, she met his gaze. His brain jump started again as her teeth sank into her bottom lip, and he took a step in her direction before he could reconsider.

"Hey, Bob." She sounded a little breathless as she said his name while Bradley's wife smirked at the two of them. But he and Anna were just friends, and he needed to remember that.

"Anna," he replied softly, slipping his hands into his jeans pockets. His palms were sweaty, and he knew he was blushing. He'd never make it out of here alive. Not when she was looking at him like that. 

She smiled and said, "I came up with a few, slightly more obscure book recommendations for you. I was thinking maybe we could go back to the bookstore and look for some of them that I don't currently own? I might be fun to-"

Bob was already about to agree with whatever she said, because it sounded exactly perfect to him, then he heard someone screeching his name.

"Bob!" There was a brunette flash streaking across the small backyard, and then Natasha Trace was in his arms. She was giggling next to his ear where she kissed his cheek three times in a row, knocking his glasses askew.

"I didn't know you were coming home today," he said in surprise.

"I didn't tell anyone except Bradley. Did I surprise you?" she asked.

"That's an understatement, Nat," he replied, hugging her tighter when she refused to let go. "I missed you."

Her familiar laughter was comforting as she said, "You have no idea how much I hate flying with anyone other than you." When she finally started to pull away from him, she added, "Now we can pick up where we left off before my deployment."

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

Anna couldn't believe how incredible her friend's house was. It was huge and beautiful, and she had a yard. A yard! In California! There was colorful art on the walls, which appeared to be a collection of things that she and Bradley enjoyed. Her office was something Anna could only dream about, and the kitchen was bigger than her whole apartment.

After a tour of the interior, she stood on the patio in the autumn sunlight in a pair of shorts, something she would have never been able to do in New Jersey. Every day seemed to get better than the last, assuming she could keep the intrusive thoughts about Kevin away. And also assuming she could figure out what she was supposed to do about Bob and the growing collection of feelings she seemed to have for him.

"You have to hear what happened in my Differential Equations lecture on Friday afternoon," her friend was saying as they stood near the new grill that would soon be the centerpiece of the afternoon. "You won't even believe it."

Anna listened for a minute to the wild story, bursting into laughter when she learned how her friend thought she was going to have to call the fire department while she was teaching. Then she saw him. Bob was here with his tidy hair and his adorable glasses and his big hands, and like always her brain filled up with the beautiful poetry she loved so much. Somehow it seemed to go together with him. Those stunning words matched the way he made her feel.

She had to bite her lip in an attempt to calm herself down. "Hey, Bob," she managed to say as his cheeks flushed pink.

"Anna."

Oh, she was a mess. She thought about him way too frequently, even taking the time to compile the titles of some books she had read and loved, convincing herself he might like some of them too. "I came up with a few, slightly more obscure book recommendations for you. I was thinking maybe we could go back to the bookstore and look for some of them that I don't currently own? I might be fun to-"

But she stopped mid sentence when she heard some excited chatter behind Bob, and then a woman came running out through the back door. A beautiful woman. Calling his name. Jumping into his arms. Anna was treated to the sight of the woman's lips brushing against Bob's cheek while he held onto her like he was just reunited with the only person he ever cared about. She had to watch as this other woman ran her fingers gently along his skin in exactly the way Anna fantasized about. And when she looked around, nobody seemed concerned by this turn of events, rather they all acted like it was perfectly normal that Bob and this woman were whispering intimately to each other.

Then Anna heard her say, "Now we can pick up where we left off before my deployment."

Oh. Well. There was a sour taste in her mouth as she took a step backwards as the rest of the group greeted this mystery woman. Anna was going to have to have words with Advanced Calculus and Advanced Physics after this. Maybe they tried to set her up with Bob, because they didn't like this other woman? That idea vaporized as soon as she saw Jessica embrace her with a bright smile on her face.

Anna felt like her chest was growing tighter by the second, and then Jessica started to pull the pretty brunette toward her. "You have to come meet the newest faculty member from the English department! Dr. Anna Webber."

The woman looked her up and down with dark, appraising eyes and a little smirk set firmly on her lips. Then she stuck out her right hand and said, "I'm Natasha Trace."

The last thing Anna wanted to do right now was shake hands, but Jessica was looking at her with concern, probably wondering why she was just standing there. "It's a pleasure," Anna said with as much conviction as she could muster, shaking hands as briefly as she could.

"You teach at San Diego State too?" Natasha asked as her smirk bloomed into a bigger smile. When Anna nodded, she laughed and added, "What the hell do they put in the water at that school?"

Jessica was beaming now as she said, "Anna gives book recommendations to Bob all the time."

"Really? Is that so?" Natasha asked, still eyeing Anna like a predator would their prey, when Bob appeared with two cans of ginger ale. He gave one to Natasha and then tried to hand the other one to Anna as Natasha said, "I actually read a phenomenal book last month, Bob. I'll write down the title for you."

He kind of smiled, still holding out the other can toward Anna who felt like she was on the verge of screaming. "No. Thank you," she told him, taking a few steps away as she clocked the hurt expression on his face. "I don't want any."

The uncomfortable feeling was overtaking Anna's whole body now when Natasha leaned a little closer to Bob and softly muttered, "Let me guess... you have a little crush? This happened in my absence?"

Anna turned and went inside, searching for the bathroom she'd seen on the house tour. That woman was mocking her. Anna didn't want to hear any more of that conversation, because it was making her skin crawl. And worse still, she was finally able to identify this feeling as she closed and locked the door and leaned on the sink vanity.

Jealousy. 

She was more jealous of this petite brunette who seemed to think Bob's personal space was hers for the taking than she ever was about Kevin and Alyssa. She was beside herself at the idea of another woman giving Bob book recommendations and making fun of his stupid little crush on her.

This was exactly why she should have never let herself have feelings. When she looked in the mirror, she saw tears in her eyes. "Shit," she whispered. She didn't have a car, so she couldn't just discreetly leave. Plus she'd been looking forward to eating something other than one of her sad sandwiches for days.

The jealousy gave way to anger as she wiped her eyes with a tissue and dropped it in the trash can. Her new friends invited her here, and she was going to stay. She wasn't going to let her feelings for Bob Floyd dictate her mood or what she felt she was allowed to do. She wasn't going to let another man run her life like that ever again.

With her head held high, she walked back outside, making it a point to avoid Bob and Natasha at all costs. She willingly had a thirty minute conversation with Jake and Mickey about the Marvel Cinematic Universe as an excuse to keep her distance. Then she and Bradley discussed the extensive musical catalogue of the Grateful Dead while she slowly sipped a beer to try to take the edge off. Then he turned on the grill, and the smell of food cooking had her excited enough that it was becoming easier and easier to ignore Bob.

When she accidentally looked his way, he was already eyeing her with a confused expression. She could pretend all day long that she didn't care what he thought and that she wasn't jealous at all. She could be so stubborn about this. At least all they had between them was that one awkward, fumbled kiss in his truck. It wasn't like she'd slept with him before he ditched her for the much better looking Natasha.

She was still doing a fine job of ignoring both of them when Bradley announced that dinner was ready. Anna took a plate of food and scooted all the way to the end of the rectangular patio table, snagging the spot across from Jessica. She was willing to talk about anything right now, even her friend's physics curriculum that she could barely comprehend, but then Bob was right next to her.

"Mind if I sit here?" he asked cautiously, setting his plate next to hers. Anna just shrugged, and then she was enveloped in his clean scent as he eased himself down in the seat with his knee hitting her thigh. She quickly crossed her legs before scooting her chair a few inches to the side away from his. "Are you okay?"

Anna almost laughed as Natasha found a spot on the other side of the table. "I'm just fine," she said before taking a huge bite of her burger and avoiding looking at either of them.

"Right," Bob whispered, frowning down toward his plate as she gave him side eye. "I just... feel like I did something to upset you."

Anna shook her head, and when she was done chewing the delicious food, she said, "Not at all. You're free to make the decisions you want to make. And I'm free to keep my books to myself since you've got other ones now."

Bob looked at her and asked, "What's that supposed to mean?" 

But Anna was well on her way to starting a conversation with Jessica that could probably last for hours. She ignored him as she asked, "Hey, Jess, what's up with that physics professor who just started wearing a toupee?"

"Dr. Leeland!" she screeched before launching into an animated conversation on the topic of her colleague's hair piece just as expected.

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

Bob was so confused. He had been about to jump at the chance to hang out at the bookstore in North Park with Anna when Natasha arrived. At that point, he honestly thought this was going to be the best day he'd had in a while. Anna seemed happy to see him, and one of his best friends was finally home from deployment. But as soon as that thought entered his mind, Anna started acting like she wanted nothing to do with him. So much so that she asked Jess about some guy's fake hair? Bob sat there and listened to the conversation while he ate, trying to interject, but Anna just wasn't having it. She had even rejected his ginger ale.

What the hell did he do wrong? All he wanted to do was talk to her about books and look at her freckles. She was sitting right next to him, but he may as well have been on Jupiter with the way she seemed convinced that he wasn't even there at all.

As everyone started to finish eating, Bob washed his food down with the rest of his ginger ale. Maybe he should just head home early. He'd be spending all week at work with Nat, so it wasn't like he was going to miss out on much there. And being around Anna when she wasn't even looking at him made him feel like an idiot for secretly writing poems about her. He sat at the table alone for an extra minute with his head cradled in his hands, then he took his trash inside the house.

Of course Anna was the only other person in the kitchen, helpfully washing the grilling utensils and other things Bradley left in the sink. She glanced his way briefly before continuing with her task, and Bob headed for the trash can. He had the perfect view of the freckles on the backs of her thighs, but he didn't feel like he should be looking now. He stood quietly for a few seconds before deciding that he'd give this one last try before heading out.

"Anna," he said just loud enough that he knew she could hear him over the running water. "Can we talk? I just feel like I did something to upset you? When you started to invite me to the bookstore, I was going to say yes. Obviously I'd love to go with-"

She looked at him over her shoulder, and he went silent at her glare. "Why don't you just go with Natasha instead?"

His brow furrowed in confusion. "That's not the kind of thing she and I usually do together."

"Oh?" she asked, her voice dripping with something that made Bob's skin tingle with goosebumps. "Does she usually recommend books while you're out to dinner? Or do you take her to see her favorite movies?" 

She turned off the water and faced him without bothering to dry her hands. His lips parted as he watched the furious looking blush that crept along her chest, up her neck, and to her cheeks. 

"I don't really do those things with her either," he said slowly, trying to puzzle his way through this. She sounded almost jealous of Nat, but that couldn't be. That didn't make any sense at all. Anna made it clear she didn't want to be with him.

"Well, you're free to do whatever you want, Bob," she said with a shrug, chin held high. "This is why we're just friends. You've already got plenty of women to choose from, like Suzanne and Natasha, and I'm not about to get caught up in another attractive man who seems too good to be true."

She started to duck past him, but Bob blocked her path. "Whoa, whoa! No, you've got it all wrong." She doubled back the other way, but he stepped to the side until she bumped into him. "Suzanne is my elderly neighbor. And Natasha and I are friends," he said quickly, and he was rewarded with Anna's brown eyes snapping up to meet his. "I've known her for years. She's the pilot I usually fly with."

Anna took one stumbling step backwards toward the sink. Her teeth sank into her lip like earlier before she whispered, "Oh." She swallowed hard, drawing Bob's gaze back to the freckles on her neck as her blush grew deeper. "So you're not... into her?"

His voice sounded deep even to his own ears as he promised, "Not even slightly. Not like I'm into you."

The kitchen went so silent that Bob could hear laughter filtering from the patio through the open door, and Anna's expression softened as she took a tiny step forward. Then another one. Then one more before she was launching herself into his arms. Bob could feel her damp hands in his hair as their lips met, and it was nothing like the way they kissed in his truck. She wasn't tentative, and he didn't pull away as she kissed him harder. This time her body was pressed to his, and she moaned softly when he let his hands settle on her hips.

Anna coaxed him impossibly closer with her fingers in his hair and on the back of his neck, and soon he had her pinned against the edge of the counter. He could feel denim rubbing against denim as she parted her lips and wiggled slowly against him. When Bob swiped his tongue along her bottom lip, Anna let him taste her before her lips drifted along to his neck.

"Fuck," he grunted, squeezing her hips in his hands as his index finger met the soft skin of her lower back. She was sucking gently on the spot just to the left of his Adam's apple, and there was no way she couldn't feel how hard he was getting for her right now.

Those burgundy fingernails were scraping gently along his scalp as he rolled his hips one time against her body. When Anna licked his neck, he forced himself to ask the question that was fluttering around the peripheral of his aroused brain. "Are you going to tell me this is another mistake? Like that night in my truck?"

Anna pulled her lips away from his pulse point long enough to whisper, "It wasn't even a mistake last time. I just couldn't help myself."

Then Bob kissed her lips until she was clinging to him with her back arched against the counter and her hips held tightly in his hands. When he could tell someone was coming inside, he pulled himself away, panting as she tried to chase him for more. He could see the questioning look on her face as he stepped aside just before Mickey and Jake walked inside, arguing about who ate the last hot dog.

Anna turned back toward the sink as she blushed, and Bob was aching to kiss her again. Dying to confirm that she wasn't going to write him off again. He cleared his throat and asked, "Will you let me drive you home later?"

Bob heard her soft laugh and whispered, "Yes." Then with a smile, he took the last can of ginger ale from the refrigerator and set it on the counter next to her. She looked up at him, eyes filled with need as he excused himself back out to the patio where he started to count down the minutes until he could suggest it was late enough to leave.

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

Anna, you are living the dream, baby! Let him love you the way he wants to! And once again, in Natasha we trust. Thanks @mak-32 and @beyondthesefourwalls

PART 8

@thedroneranger

@theamuz

@cherrycola27

@katiedid-3

@yuckosworld

@je-suis-prest-rachel

@callsign-magnolia

@avaleineandafryingpan

@t-nd-rfoot

@wkndwlff

@eddiemunsonreader

@wintercap89

@the-fever-of-mankind

@sio-ina-bottle

@lovingperfectionsblog

@daisydont-lie

@sappy-seresin

@birdy-bat-writes

@cutelittlefakejourneys

@cottagecori

@fandom-princess-forevermore

@sotalife

@novastories

@xoxabs88xox

@rileyanntoinette

@mannsachds

@midnightmagpiemama

@greatszu

@zetasaturno99

@lovingrobertfloyd

@taytaylala12

@captain-fandomwriter58

@grxcisxhy-wp

@hobireasns

@wolfquake23

@smileybouquet

@paintlavillered

@seitmai

@noonenuts

@amiets2

@sylviebell

@imnotcreativeenoughforthisblog

@lonelysoul50

@sweetwhispersofchaos

[mrs-delaney]

May 20th

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* Request: Hi my love!! Hope you are doing well 💌 I was hoping to get a Joe Burrow imagine where he is planning a surprise dinner for his gf whose birthday is coming up on Tuesday (May 20th) but has another surprise up his sleeve—he invited all her friends and family ❤️ *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧

✦･ﾟ✧･ﾟ: ✧･ﾟ: May 20th Joe Burrow x OC Word Count: 4.9k ✧･ﾟ: ✧･ﾟ:･ﾟ✦

♡ read my masterlist ♡

✧ read *Hide* ✧

The Planning

Saturday, May 17th

"So her parents' flight gets in at 2:15 on Tuesday, and her sister arrives at noon," Joe said, scrolling through the detailed itinerary on his laptop. "They're both confirmed at the Kinley downtown."

Across from him at his home office desk, Melissa nodded, making notes in her planner. After three months of coordinating this surprise, the event planner had become something of a co-conspirator.

"And her college roommate?" Melissa asked, not looking up from her notes.

"Lands tomorrow. Staying with her cousin so Y/N won't accidentally run into her." Joe leaned back in his chair, running a hand through his hair as he mentally checked another item off his list. "I still can't believe we're pulling this off."

"I appreciate the detailed notes," Melissa said, acknowledging his thoughtfulness.

Joe shrugged, a hint of a smile playing at his lips. "I pay attention."

The laptop screen illuminated his face in the afternoon light filtering through the office blinds. The room was minimal but warm, his style was balanced with touches of Y/N throughout. There were photos of them together over their three years, a small plant she'd given him that he'd somehow managed to keep alive, and her notebook still open on the corner of his desk from when she'd been working there the evening before.

"Pepp & Dolores confirmed the chef is preparing that custom menu we discussed," Joe continued, clicking through the email confirmations. "And they'll have those Aperol spritzes she loves ready when everyone arrives."

Melissa nodded approvingly. "The florist will deliver the arrangements directly to the restaurant at 3:00. Lilies and roses, just as you requested."

"Great, those are her favorites," Joe said quietly, almost to himself. He glanced at the clock on his desk. Y/N wouldn't be back from her Saturday yoga class for at least another hour. Plenty of time to finalize the remaining details.

"Let's go through the seating chart one more time," he said, pulling up another document. "I want her parents and sister at the table with us, then—"

The sound of the front door opening made Joe freeze mid-sentence. His eyes darted to the hallway, then back to Melissa and the papers spread across his desk, pages clearly labeled "Y/N's Surprise Birthday" and diagrams of the restaurant layout.

"Joe?" Y/N's voice called from the entryway. "You home?"

"Shit," he muttered under his breath, quickly closing his laptop. "Office!" he called back, his voice impressively casual despite the panic flashing in his eyes.

He hurriedly gathered the papers, shoving them into a folder while motioning for Melissa to follow his lead.

"So anyway, as I was saying about the charity golf tournament," Joe said loudly as footsteps approached the office door. "The team really appreciates your help coordinating."

Melissa caught on immediately, smoothly tucking her planner with "Y/N BIRTHDAY SURPRISE" written in bold letters on the tab into her bag.

"Of course, I'm happy to help organize the auction items," she replied with practiced ease. "The food bank will be grateful for the support."

Y/N appeared in the doorway, her hair pulled back in a messy bun, still in her workout clothes. Joe's heart did that familiar flip it always did when he saw her, even after three years. Even in the middle of a covert operation.

"Hey," she said, a little breathless, glancing curiously between Joe and the woman sitting across from him. "Sorry, didn't mean to interrupt. Yoga got canceled instructor has a stomach bug."

Joe stood up, crossing the room to greet her with a kiss on the temple. His thumb brushed a strand of hair from her face with an ease that belied the adrenaline coursing through him.

"Not interrupting at all," he said, his voice warm and steady despite his racing thoughts. "Y/N, this is Melissa. She's helping with that charity thing for the foundation."

Melissa stood and extended her hand with a smile. "Joe's been telling me about the work you do. It's nice to finally meet you."

Y/N smiled, shaking her hand. "Nice to meet you too. What charity thing?" she asked, turning to Joe with a raised eyebrow. "You didn't mention anything."

For a split second, Joe's mind went blank. His eyes darted to the desk where, thankfully, all evidence of birthday planning was now hidden from view.

"Just that, uh, foundation thing," he said, rubbing the back of his neck. "For the food bank. Sorry, meant to mention it earlier. It's still in early planning stages."

"In December," Melissa added smoothly. "We're securing venues now since they book up fast for the holiday season."

"Right," Joe nodded, perhaps a bit too enthusiastically. "December. Gotta plan ahead."

Y/N's eyes lingered on him for a moment longer than usual, and Joe felt a twinge of guilt at the lie. In their three years together, he'd never been anything but honest with her. The past few weeks of pretending to forget her birthday went against every instinct he had.

"Well, don't let me interrupt," Y/N said, stepping back toward the door. "I'm going to grab some water. Nice to meet you, Melissa."

"You too," Melissa replied with a warm smile that revealed nothing.

Once Y/N was out of earshot, Joe exhaled heavily and dropped back into his chair.

"That was close," he whispered, running a hand over his face.

Melissa suppressed a laugh. "You're really not used to lying to her, are you?"

"Is it that obvious?" Joe asked, grimacing slightly.

"A little," she admitted. "But it's sweet. Not many people would go to these lengths and be this uncomfortable just to give someone a perfect surprise."

Joe's expression softened as he glanced toward the doorway where Y/N had been standing. "She deserves it. She loves her birthday, always goes all out for everyone else's celebrations." He paused, a flicker of worry crossing his face. "She already thinks I've forgotten. I saw her checking her phone yesterday, probably looking for early birthday messages or hints I might leave."

"Two more days," Melissa reassured him, gathering her things. "And judging by all this planning, it'll be worth every moment of her thinking you're the worst boyfriend ever."

Joe winced. "Is that what she's going to think?"

Melissa smiled knowingly. "Probably. But imagine her face when she walks into that restaurant on Tuesday and sees everyone there."

Joe could picture it: Y/N's surprised expression, the moment of realization, the joy that would light up her eyes. All the planning, the secrecy, the uncomfortable deception would be worth it just to see that look on her face.

"Oh, before I forget," Melissa said, reaching into her bag and pulling out a small velvet box. "The jeweler dropped this off at my office this morning, as requested."

Joe took the box, opening it carefully to reveal the ring inside, elegant, unique, and perfectly Y/N. He'd spent months working with the designer to create something that captured her essence.

"It's perfect," he said quietly, a mixture of nervousness and certainty washing over him. "You're sure everything's set for that part of the evening?"

"Just like we discussed," Melissa assured him. "No big production, just like you wanted."

Joe nodded, closing the box and slipping it into his desk drawer. "Thank you. For everything."

As Melissa gathered the last of her materials, the sound of Y/N moving around in the kitchen filtered down the hallway. Joe could picture her there, probably wondering why he hadn't mentioned this charity event before, maybe already suspecting something was off.

"Just two more days of pretending," Melissa said, reading his thoughts. "Then you never have to lie to her again."

Joe nodded, the tension in his shoulders easing slightly. "Can't wait for this to be over."

"Something tells me you might be off the hook for surprise planning for a while after this," Melissa laughed softly. "I'll text you when her parents' flight lands on Tuesday."

As Joe walked Melissa to the door, he could feel Y/N watching them from the kitchen. He caught her eye and smiled, the genuine, soft smile he reserved just for her. She returned it, though he noticed the slight furrow in her brow, the subtle hint of confusion.

Two more days, he reminded himself. Two more days of keeping the biggest secret he'd ever kept from her. Two more days until he could finally ask the question he'd been wanting to ask for months.

Two more days until he never had to pretend to forget anything important to her ever again.

The Hints

Monday, May 19th

The kitchen smelled of garlic and herbs as Y/N stirred the pasta sauce, occasionally glancing at Joe who sat at the island scrolling through his phone. She'd spent the day waiting for some acknowledgment, some hint that he remembered tomorrow was her birthday. So far, nothing.

"I was thinking," she said casually, tapping the wooden spoon against the pot, "we haven't gone out in a while. Might be nice to do something this week."

Joe looked up, his expression perfectly neutral. "Actually, I was thinking maybe tomorrow night we could try that place you mentioned a while back. Pepp & Dolores. Unless you've got plans?"

Y/N's heart sank a little. So he really had forgotten. Tomorrow was her birthday, and he was suggesting dinner as if it was just any other Tuesday. "Tomorrow?" she repeated, giving him one last chance to catch on.

He hadn't mentioned any meeting. She'd checked their shared calendar twice, finding Tuesday conspicuously empty. Three years together, and suddenly he had plans on her birthday that he'd never bothered to tell her about?

Her phone lit up on the counter, another birthday eve text from her college roommate. Joe's eyes flicked to it before Y/N could reach it, and for a split second, she thought she saw something like guilt cross his face. But when she looked more closely, his expression was impassive again, focused on whatever was on his screen.

"My mom called earlier," she tried again, stirring the sauce with more vigor than it required. "She was just checking in, seeing what we were up to this week."

"Yeah?" Joe responded, the perfect picture of casual interest. "What'd you tell her?"

Y/N's spoon stilled. He really didn't remember. Three birthdays together, and this year, it had simply slipped his mind. She swallowed the lump forming in her throat.

"Nothing special, apparently," she said quietly.

Joe's phone buzzed. He glanced at it, then quickly turned it face-down on the counter. That was the third time he'd done that tonight. Usually, he had no issue checking messages in front of her.

"Everything okay?" she asked, nodding toward his phone.

"Just work stuff," he said with a shrug, turning his phone face down.

Y/N nodded, stirring the sauce even though it didn’t really need it. She didn’t look at him when she spoke again, trying to keep her tone casual.

“Have you been looking at new restaurants or something?” she asked, eyes still on the pot. “Pepp & Dolores isn’t really something you’d normally be into.”

He shrugged. "No specific reason. You mentioned wanting to go not to long ago and I’ve been meaning to take you, and my schedule's clear tomorrow night. Thought it might be nice."

She turned back to the sauce, adding a pinch more oregano with more force than necessary. "Sure," she said, keeping her voice even. "Tomorrow works."

"The sauce is almost ready," she said, her voice carefully steady. "Can you grab the plates?"

Joe stood, moving around the island to the cabinet. As he passed behind her, his hand brushed her waist—a casual touch, the kind she normally leaned into. Tonight, she remained stiff, and his hand fell away.

"You okay?" he asked, reaching for the plates.

Y/N considered confronting him directly. Do you know what tomorrow is? But the thought of having to remind him, of seeing the realization and hasty apology on his face, was too humiliating.

"Fine," she said instead. "Just tired."

Joe set the plates on the counter beside her, lingering a moment longer than necessary. She could feel him watching her face, and she kept her expression carefully neutral as she served the pasta.

"This looks great," he said as they sat at the table. "Thanks for cooking."

"No problem." She twirled pasta around her fork without enthusiasm. "So how was your day?"

"Good. Productive." Joe took a bite, then reached for his water. "Yours?"

Well, I spent most of it wondering if my boyfriend of three years has forgotten my birthday. "Fine," she said instead. 

They ate in a silence that grew increasingly uncomfortable, punctuated only by the occasional clink of cutlery against plates. Y/N found herself unable to enjoy the meal she'd prepared, each bite tasteless as her mind churned with confusion and hurt.

Joe studied her face a moment longer, then nodded. "I'm going to grab a shower, then. Been a long day."

"Of course," she said, turning back to the dishes. "Goodnight."

She listened to his footsteps retreat down the hallway, waiting for the sound of the bathroom door closing before she let out a deep sigh. Part of her still couldn't believe he'd forgotten. Joe remembered the exact date they'd met, knew her coffee order down to the extra half-pump of vanilla, and had never missed an important moment until now.

Y/N finished the dishes with a heaviness in her chest, trying to remind herself that it was just a birthday. Just one day. It shouldn't matter this much.

But it did.

Once he was out of sight, Y/N let her fork drop to her plate with a clatter. She pulled out her own phone, checking again to see if there was anything from Joe—a scheduled delivery for tomorrow, a hidden calendar item, any evidence that he hadn't completely forgotten.

Nothing.

A text from her best friend lit up the screen: Has he said anything about tomorrow yet?

Y/N hesitated, then typed back: We're going to dinner at Pepp & Dolores. But he hasn't mentioned my birthday at all. I think he genuinely forgot.

Three dots appeared immediately: No way. Joe wouldn't forget.

Y/N wished she could believe that. But Joe was many things: thoughtful, loyal, steady—but he wasn't deceptive. If he'd remembered her birthday, he would have said something by now. He wouldn't let her spend the entire day feeling forgotten.

She began clearing the dishes, the cheerful clinking of plates a stark contrast to the heaviness in her chest. From down the hall, she could hear Joe's voice, too muffled to make out words. He was speaking quietly, which was unusual for his work calls.

She tried not to let it bother her. Joe was entitled to his privacy, and just because they'd been together for three years didn't mean he had to remember every important date. Still, the disappointment sat like a stone in her stomach.

The Joe who had orchestrated her perfect birthday last year, the one who had remembered her offhand comment about wanting to see that band and surprised her with tickets, seemed far away tonight. She rinsed the plates more aggressively than necessary, trying to drown out her thoughts with the sound of running water.

Once she finished up in the kitchen, she headed to the bedroom. She noticed his side of the closet looked the same as always: no special outfit laid out, no gift hidden away. Whatever was happening at Pepp & Dolores, it certainly wasn't any kind of birthday celebration.

She crawled into bed, telling herself it didn't matter. It was just a birthday, after all. There would be others.

But as she reached to set her alarm, her gaze fell on the framed photo of their trip to Italy last year, the one where Joe had surprised her with a gondola ride, she'd mentioned wanting months before. The Joe who remembered every little detail, who planned thoughtful surprises, who made her feel like the most important person in his world.

The Surprise

Tuesday, May 20th - Y/N's birthday

Y/N woke to the soft chime of her phone. She blinked sleepily, reaching for it on the nightstand. The screen illuminated with a string of notification texts from her college roommate, her sister, and her coworkers. All wishing her a happy birthday.

She glanced over at Joe's side of the bed. Empty. The sound of the shower running down the hall told her where he was.

For a moment, she let herself hope. Maybe he'd been playing an elaborate game. Maybe there was breakfast waiting in the kitchen, or flowers, or some small gift wrapped in her favorite paper.

When she padded into the kitchen in her slippers, she found none of those things. Just a clean counter, the coffee maker running its cycle, and Joe's protein shake in the blender.

Her phone chimed again. Her mom this time: Happy birthday, sweetheart! Hope Joe has something special planned.

Y/N typed back a quick "Thanks!" and left it at that.

By the time Joe emerged from the bathroom, hair damp, hoodie on, joggers that fit just right, she’d already resigned herself to the reality. He’d forgotten. The man who remembered every snap count from his rookie season, who once brought her the exact lip balm she’d mentioned in passing, had somehow forgotten her birthday.

"Morning," he said, dropping a casual kiss on the top of her head as he passed. "Sleep okay?"

"Fine," she managed, watching as he poured his coffee and checked something on his phone.

"So, dinner tonight," he said, not looking up from his screen. "Seven work for you? I made the reservation."

"Seven's fine," she said, forcing brightness into her voice. "Looking forward to it."

Joe glanced up then, his expression unreadable. "You sure you're okay?"

She nodded, wrapping her hands around her mug. "Yeah, just..." She hesitated, giving him one last chance. "Just tired."

"Well, get some rest today," he said, finishing his coffee. "I've got a few things to take care of, but I'll be back to get ready for dinner."

"Where are you going?" she asked.

"Just errands," he said, already heading for the door. "Stuff for the foundation, gonna get a workout in. I’ll be back in time for dinner."

Before she could respond, he was gone, the door clicking shut behind him.

Y/N sat alone at the kitchen island, scrolling through the birthday messages on her phone. Friends asking about her plans. Family hoping she'd have a wonderful day. Only Joe, the person she loved most, seemed to have no idea what today was.

She spent the day in a haze of halfhearted productivity. Her sister called, and Y/N found herself making excuses for Joe. "He's probably just waiting for tonight," she said, not believing it herself. "We're going to Pepp & Dolores."

"That's nice," her sister said, though her tone suggested it wasn't nearly enough. "Well, happy birthday anyway. Love you."

"Love you too," Y/N replied, ending the call with a sigh.

By six, she was getting ready, though her enthusiasm had dimmed considerably. Still, she pulled out the new dress she'd bought last month, deep burgundy, fitted, with a subtle shimmer when she moved. She'd been saving it for a special occasion. And birthday or not, dinner at Pepp & Dolores was still a night out.

She was applying her lipstick when Joe returned, calling her name from the hallway.

"In here," she called back.

He appeared in the doorway of their bathroom, and something in his expression shifted when he saw her, a warmth in his eyes as he took in the dress, her carefully styled hair, the extra effort she'd made.

"You look beautiful," he said quietly.

Despite everything, her heart fluttered a little. "Thanks."

"I should get changed," he said, checking his watch. "Reservations in forty minutes."

Y/N nodded, turning back to the mirror to finish her makeup. Even if he'd forgotten, even if this was just another Tuesday to him, she was determined to make the best of it. Twenty-nine was going to be a good year, birthday celebration or not.

The drive to Pepp & Dolores was quiet, though almost uncomfortably so. Joe seemed preoccupied, checking his mirrors more often than usual and tapping his fingers against the steering wheel at red lights.

"Parking might be tough downtown," he said as they neared the restaurant. "Tuesday night and all."

Y/N just nodded, watching the city lights blur past the window. Tuesday night. Not her birthday. Not any special occasion. Just Tuesday.

When they finally pulled up to the restaurant, Joe handed his keys to the valet with a quiet word that Y/N couldn't quite catch. He seemed almost nervous as he took her hand, leading her toward the entrance.

"Go ahead," he said, his voice oddly tight.

"Mmm," she replied, distracted by the darkened windows of the restaurant. It looked almost empty inside. Was it closed? Had he gotten the reservation wrong?

But Joe pushed open the door confidently, gesturing for her to go in first.

Y/N stepped into the dimly lit entryway, confused by the silence. And then—

"SURPRISE!"

The lights blazed on, revealing a restaurant packed with people, her people. Her parents, her sister, her college roommates, her cousins from home, coworkers, friends—all grinning at her with delight.

Y/N froze, her mouth falling open. The restaurant was transformed, flowers cascading from every surface, candles flickering on the tables, and a banner hanging above the bar said, "Happy Birthday Y/N!"

She turned to Joe, who was watching her with a soft smile, his eyes bright with barely contained joy.

"You didn't..." she breathed, unable to form a complete thought.

"I did," he replied simply.

Her eyes filled with tears as the realization washed over her. He hadn't forgotten. He'd been planning this, all of this, for who knew how long. The fake obliviousness, the casual dinner suggestion, all of it had been leading to this moment.

"Joe," she whispered, her voice catching.

Before she could say more, her parents were there, enveloping her in a hug. Then her sister, her friends, a whirlwind of familiar faces and birthday wishes and exclamations over how surprised she looked.

"We flew in yesterday," her mom explained, squeezing her hand. "Joe arranged everything."

"He's been planning this for months," her college roommate added. "Made us all swear to secrecy."

Y/N looked around in wonder. The entire restaurant had been transformed, decorated with her favorite flowers, strings of lights casting a warm glow over everything. And at the center of it all was Joe, hanging back slightly, watching her reaction with quiet satisfaction.

She made her way back to him through the crowd, her heart so full she thought it might burst.

"I thought you forgot," she admitted, her voice thick with emotion.

Joe shook his head, reaching out to brush a tear from her cheek. "Baby, I'd never forget your birthday," he said softly.

The simple words, delivered in his steady, matter-of-fact way, broke something open inside her. She threw her arms around him, burying her face in his neck as tears flowed freely now.

"Thank you," she murmured against his skin. "For all of this. For everyone being here."

Joe's arms tightened around her, solid and warm and real. "Happy birthday," he said simply. "I love you so much."

When she pulled back to look at him, his eyes were suspiciously bright too, though he'd never admit it. He brushed her hair back from her face with gentle fingers.

"Now come on," he said, his voice returning to its usual calm steadiness. "Everyone's waiting to celebrate with you."

Y/N let him lead her into the crowd, to a table where her parents and sister sat. The night stretched ahead, full of food and laughter and love. She couldn't stop glancing at Joe throughout the evening—this man who had orchestrated all of this, who had maintained the most elaborate ruse, just to see the look of surprise on her face.

As the night went on, she found herself overwhelmed again and again by the friends who had traveled across the country to be there, by the custom menu featuring all her favorites, by the thoughtfulness behind every detail, but most of all by Joe, the one person who never made a big show of anything, and still managed to make her feel like the center of the world.

For a man of few words, it was the most beautiful expression of love she could imagine. As Y/N looked around at the faces of everyone she loved most in the world, gathered in one place because of him, she knew with absolute certainty that twenty-nine was going to be her best year yet.

The celebration was in full swing. The restaurant hummed with conversation and laughter, plates of food being passed around family-style as everyone shared stories and caught up. Y/N sat between her sister and Joe, her cheeks flushed with happiness as she took it all in.

Her favorite pasta arrived, the special one the chef had prepared just for tonight. As she took her first bite, she closed her eyes in appreciation. "This is amazing," she said to no one in particular.

Joe watched her quietly, a small smile playing at his lips. While she was distracted by her food and the conversation her sister was having with her cousin across the table, he reached into his pocket.

The small velvet box had been burning a hole there all night. He'd originally planned to wait until after dessert, maybe find a quieter moment, but sitting here watching her, surrounded by everyone who loved her, glowing with happiness, he suddenly couldn't wait another minute.

He pulled the ring out, keeping it hidden in his palm. Then, casually, as if it were the most natural thing in the world, he reached for her left hand where it rested on the table.

Y/N glanced at him with a smile, assuming he was just holding her hand as he often did. But instead of interlacing their fingers, he slipped something cool and metal onto her ring finger.

She looked down, confused for a split second before her brain registered what was happening. There, catching the soft light of the restaurant, was a ring, elegant, brilliant, and unmistakably an engagement ring.

Her eyes widened, her fork clattering against her plate as she turned to Joe in shock.

He leaned in close, his voice low enough that only she could hear. "I had this whole thing planned for after dinner," he said, his eyes never leaving hers, "but I've been keeping so much from you these past few months planning all this. And I've known even longer that I wanted to do this. I can't wait anymore to ask."

Y/N's hand flew to her mouth, her eyes filling with fresh tears.

"What? What's happening?" her sister asked, suddenly noticing Y/N's expression.

But Y/N couldn't form words, just stared at Joe with her heart in her eyes.

Joe's smile grew a little, that confident half-smirk she'd fallen in love with. "So?" he prompted quietly.

That broke the spell. Y/N let out a sound somewhere between a laugh and a squeal, loud enough that the conversations around them faltered.

"Everything okay over there?" her father called from across the table.

"Joe just asked me to marry him!" Y/N blurted out, holding up her hand where the ring now glittered.

A chorus of gasps and exclamations erupted around the table. "What?" "Just now?" "What did you say?"

Joe, normally so composed, looked almost nervous as he glanced around at her family before turning back to Y/N. "Yeah," he said, louder now so everyone could hear. "What do you say?"

Y/N laughed through her tears, throwing her arms around his neck. "Yes! Are you serious? Yes!"

The restaurant erupted in cheers and applause. Her mother was crying, her father beaming. Friends were on their feet, raising glasses in toasts.

But Y/N was only dimly aware of all that. Her world had narrowed to Joe, to his face so close to hers, to the warmth in his eyes that spoke volumes more than words ever could, to the smile that was no longer controlled but wide and genuine.

"I love you," she whispered against his lips, before kissing him deeply, not caring that they had an audience.

When they finally broke apart, she couldn't stop staring at the ring on her finger. "It's beautiful," she said, her voice filled with wonder.

“Glad you like it,” Joe said, his eyes not leaving hers. “Your sister helped me pick it out. I was overthinking it like crazy.”

As their friends and family surged around them with congratulations and demands to see the ring, Y/N found herself overwhelmed all over again. First the surprise party with everyone she loved, and now this a proposal so perfectly Joe in its quiet simplicity and genuine emotion.

She looked up at him, at this man who continued to surprise her in the best possible ways, and knew with absolute certainty that she'd just received the best birthday gift of all, a future with him.

[eunoia-writes]

Confessions • Felix Catton x Reader

Summery - after a night of drinking bottle after bottle of wine Felix makes a confession which spirals his and y/n’s life into a whirlwind of romance only to be momentarily put on hold due to his jealousy.

Warnings - Drinking, jealous!Felix, Felix being a bit of a dick, secret romance

There was a soft humm of laughter from the other room while y/n walked into the dimly lit kitchen in search for the other wine bottles. She opened the fridge grabbing a bottle of Red and a bottle of white before she walked back into the living room where everyone was sat reminiscing on old summers stories. She placed the bottles down before sitting back down next to her friend, Farleigh.

“Y/n… do you remember that guy that put the love note your dorm letter box?” Indi said laughed as Felix groaned while y/n just nodded. Felix grabbed the bottle of red and topped up her glass before Turing to face his friend Indi.

“Can we not talk about this for the 100th time?” Felix asked

“Oh but why it was so adorable the way he fumbled over his words and laughed at everything y/n said.” Indi added

“Y/n doesn’t need someone who laughs at everything she says or can’t form a coherent sentence. Hell she’s smarter than all of us.”

y/n couldn’t help but blush slightly. Yes it was wrong and juvenile of her to he crushing on her friend who protects her no matter what cost.

“That’s real sweet of you, Fi.” Oh how he adored that nickname she gave him

“Anything for you.” He said looking at her for what could have been slightly too long

“We should really head off.” India said sharing a look with Felix y/n couldn’t quit read.

“We’ll see you guy tomorrow?” Felix said his arm wrapping around y/n’s waist. The pair had always been close and the physical touch of their relationship had never bothered either of them.

“Definitely we be here around 2.” Farleigh Said before the three of them made there way out of Felix’s flat

“Are you sure you don’t mind me staying?” y/n asked as she helped Him clear away a few things. Felix smiled

“you’re always welcome to stay here you know that.” Felix said pouring the last of the wine down the drain as y/n leaned against the counter

“What was that look Indi gave you about earlier?” y/n more asked him, he immediately stopped what he was doing and turned to her

“What do you mean?” He asked confused

“Fi, don’t do that you know exactly what I’m talking about.” She said as he moved closer to her

“Fine fine, she has been telling me how I should tell you that it wasn’t Daniel who wrote you that letter, it was me.” Felix said

“Fi that’s not funny.” She said looking up at him “come on tell me what it was.”

“Im being serious y/n, I had the biggest crush on you when we first came to Oxford.”

“oh come on that’s not true.” She said she didn’t realise how close they now were neither did he

“I still do.” he whispered

“Felix.”

“I always thought you were the most beautiful girl I’ve ever seen.” He whispered just inches away from her

“Stop it.”

“Y/n.”

“Felix.”

“That’s not funny.” Instead of saying another word Felix just leans in kissing her softly which she immediately reciprocates a surge of electricity coursed through them, igniting a passionate exchange that transcended words. Time seemed to halt as Felix pulled her impossibly close wanting nothing more than her close to him.

“Believe me now?”

—

The pair had been seeing each other for a while now they decided to keep it a secret knowing the complications of their loved ones finding out. They wanted it to be there’s and there’s only.

Felix, with a playful smile masking the excitement in his eyes, told Farleigh he was going for a run. This wasn’t anything new for him every so often Felix took himself off on a run to clear his head if Farleigh wasn’t so caught up in himself he’d of probably noticed the escalations in the amount of times his friend seemed to be disappearing. This worked in their favour though.

Felix jogged down familiar paths, exchanging pleasantries with others on campus as he made his way to the back road that was far less traveled by to the one place he craved to be.

"Hey there," Felix greeted, panting slightly from his faux jog. Y/n grinned, as he walked into her flat and straight over to her "Thought I could use some company for my workout ." They chuckled, finding solace in their secret rendezvous.

Things were going well for a while the two sharing nothing but pure unadulterated admiration of each other Beneath the facade of friendship, stolen glances and secret smiles told a tale of something deeper. Their perfect secret relationship thrived in the subtleties – a brush of hands, lingering gazes, and whispered confessions hidden amidst the mundane. The world remained oblivious to the symphony of emotions playing out beneath the surface, allowing Felix and y/n to savor the intimacy of their unspoken connection for themselves. Y/n adorned nothing more than the late nights in his arms talking about anything they could think of but what she hated most was waking up to an empty bed.

It had been almost three months of sneaking around before anything of great significance had its effect on them. All until the party at Farleighs new flings flat.

As they mingled at the party, Felix couldn't shake the knot of jealousy tightening in his chest. Y/n , unaware of Felix internal struggle, engaged in casual conversation with a charming boy named Jake. Felix gritted his teeth, feigning a smile while attempting to mask the possessiveness bubbling within. In a strained attempt at nonchalance when y/n returned to his side later that night, Felix remarked, "Jake seems pretty interested in you tonight."

Y/n, oblivious to the brewing tension, responded with a casual shrug, "Oh, he's just friendly."

Unable to contain his frustration any longer, Felix snapped, "Friendly? Or maybe you're enjoying the attention a bit too much, y/n." The words hung heavy in the air, and y/n's eyes widened with surprise and hurt.

"What's your problem?" Y/n shot back, her own defenses rising. Felix fuelled by the fear of losing y/n to the allure of someone else, retorted,

"My problem is that everyone thinks you're fair game. Maybe it's time they know the truth – that we're more than just friends."

Y/n now fully grasping the depth of Felix's jealousy, countered, "Are you threatening to expose us? You know we can't do that, Felix. Fuck me you were the one who wanted it to be a secret so bad." The argument escalated, echoing the clash between the passion they shared in secret and the turmoil of emotions exposed in the harsh light of reality.

“Oh fuck me y/n, maybe I wouldn’t have to say anything If you weren’t such an attention whore!”

“Excuse me!” She said through gritted teeth trying not to cause a scene

“Don’t play dumb, god forbid my attention is on something other than you for a moment you start acting like a brat.” Felix said and y/n couldn’t believe what she was hearing, how dare he talk to her this way. She wasn’t one of his little flings that only lived to please him. She had more respect for herself and wouldn’t bat an eyelid at leaving if he didn’t treat her the way she wanted.

“I don’t know where you get off speaking to me like that but you better cut that shit out.” She said tempers growing for the both of them

“God I could have anyone I wanted but I choose to be with you and do nothing if you -“ Felix began at this point it was soon to turn nasty between then

“No one asked you to do nothing.” She snapped

“Fuck off.” He mumbled under his breath pinching the bridge of his nose as she turned to look at him arms folded across her chest while they stood on the balcony

“I will fuck off, I told you do what you want Felix.” she was staring daggers at him while he let out a frustrated sigh there friends all a few feet away watching the whole ordeal go down not a single of of them having a clue what was happening.

“Like you wouldn’t go off at me if I even looked at anyone else!” He said usually if someone as tall as Felix was getting pissed off at you while towering over you it would be enough to intimate anyone, but not y/n. She wasn’t one to back down from an argument.

“Well I didn’t ask you not to, do what you fucking want. Talk to a few girls shag them for all I care I’ll just fucking laugh at ya.” She spat clearly pissed off at not only him but the thought of him touching anyone else made her skin crawl.

“Maybe I will!”

“You know what Felix, go fuck yourself.” Y/n almost yelled as she stormed out of the flat knowing he wouldn’t dare follow her.

The argument with Felix lingered in her mind like a relentless echo, leaving her overwhelmed with a torrent of conflicting emotions. As she stormed out into the night, the crisp air did little to cool the heat of frustration burning within her. The music and laughter from the party slowly faded, replaced by an unsettling silence that mirrored the void growing in her chest, each step marked by the weight of unspoken words and unresolved tension. Tears welled up in her eyes, threatening to spill over, but she fought to maintain composure, not wanting to reveal her vulnerability to the indifferent darkness. The dimly lit streets witnessed the internal storm playing out on y/n’s face, the glow of streetlights casting shadows that mirrored the turmoil within. With each step, she found herself grappling with the realisation that the argument had not only fractured her connection with Felix but also exposed the fragility of the carefully constructed façade they had maintained.

Alone in the dark, y/n finally allowed herself to cry, the frustration and heartache escaping in silent sobs that mingled with the night's hushed symphony. The journey home became a painful pilgrimage through the shadows of her own unresolved emotions, the echoes of the argument haunting her every step.

Days passed in a heavy silence between Felix and y/n after their heated argument. Felix grappling with a mixture of regret and longing, found the absence of y/n more challenging than expected. Each passing moment without her presence heightened the ache in his heart. Felix had never felt this way before. No one had every evoked the same emotions from him that y/n does and the lack of communication became increasingly unbearable. Felix scrolled through old messages, the weight of the unsent apologies pressing down. Pride clashed with the undeniable truth – Felix missed y/n more than words could express. Swallowing the pride, He finally sent a hesitant message, "Can we talk?" The pause that followed felt like an eternity.

Y/n - Come over?

Felix shot up from his bed wasting no time rushing over to her flat rehearsing exactly what he wanted to say to her , everything from how sorry he was for the way he treat her and that he should have never spoke to her that way because he let his idiotic jealousy take the wheel to how stupid he feels for making her keep what they have a secret and how he wants nothing more than to shout it from the rough tops. However upon letting himself in with the key she’d given him not too long ago that all faded when He walked into the flat to find her curled up on the couch in his jumper and her beloved blanket she’s had for as long as he’s known her.

“Y/n.” He whispered as she stirred from her sleep while he sat down on the edge of the couch a few feet away from her

“Hi.” She said as she sat up rubbing her eyes slightly bringing her knees to her chest as she looked over at him

“I’m so sorry baby.” He began but before he could go on his tangent of how sorry he was and how much he adores her she whispered almost inaudibly

“Do you not trust me?” Felix felt his heart sink he hated that he’d upset her

“I do trust you baby, i was just being jealous I should have never taken it out on you.” He said cautiously moving closer to her not wanting to make her uncomfortable “I hate the idea of someone else looking at you the way I do, the idea of you making someone feel the same way you make me feel.”

“I’d never do that intentionally.” She said looking at him with her big do eyes that made him melt the same why they did when he first saw her

“I know… I’m so sorry for speaking to you like that and I’m so sorry for making you keep us a secret.” He told her as she shuffled closer to him letting him pull her into his lap

“What?” She asked confused

“You’re my girl, and I want no I need everyone to know that.” He told her and she couldn’t help but smile. Felix had never outright claimed anyone so y/n couldn’t help but feel special that she was the first

“But Fi, I don’t want you to feel like you have too… baby come on it’s about time I tell my parents and everyone else you’re my girlfriend.” Felix watched the way her eyes lit up as he said that word

“Girlfriend?” she whispered while Felix just nodded leaning in to kiss her softly “I like that.” She mumbled into the kiss

“Missed you.” He whispered as he pulled away

“I missed you too, I’ve hardly slept not having you here next to me.” Felix let out a sigh of relief knowing that she missed him just as much as he missed her.

“Then let’s get you to bed, yeah?” Felix scooped her up carrying her into her bedroom just as he had done so many nights before. In one swift motion he laid her down before crawling beside her and letting her get comfortable as she found her place on his chest.

“Y/n.” He whispered his hand running through her hair. It took her a few seconds to hum in response but he didn’t mind “I love you.” He said the words lingering in the soft glow of the bedside lamp. Y/n absorbed the sweet declaration like a lullaby. The words wrapped around her like a comforting embrace, and a tender smile played on her lips as sleep gently claimed her. In that moment, the room held the echo of those three precious words, affirming what they both already knew before they both drifted into the night.

[paradiseismine]

Backstage - Finn Wolfhard x reader

Love note from Nina: I’ve been meaning to write this one since I’ve seen Finn’s pictures from Atlanta/Birmingham; but couldn’t find the words until now.

Pairing: Finn Wolfhard x f!reader

Summary: Finn invites you backstage after a concert with his band, The Aubreys.

Warnings: so much smut, heaven help me.

It was a warm Saturday night and your girl friends nearly dragged you out of your shared apartment in New York. They had tickets for some indie band’s concert and wanted you to tag along. After some protesting, you finally gave in.

A quick subway ride later, you got to a small theater where the concert was about to start. It wasn’t sold out (“The Aubreys” was still an indie band, after all), but there were plenty of people in there. One of your friends was able to get all three of you to the very front of the stage, the closest you could possibly be to the band.

As the concert began, you suddenly detested that night a lot less - a tall black haired boy singing the first song really got your attention. You locked eyes with him for a moment, and that was all it took.

- Do you know that boy’s name? - you nearly screamed into your friend’s ear.

- Which one?

You were so mesmerized, you barely noticed there were more than one person up there.

- The black haired one - you rolled your eyes, as if it was obvious. - The one with the guitar.

- Oh - she said, rolling her eyes too. He was SO your type, she should’ve known. - That’s Finn Wolfhard. You know, Mike from Stranger Things?

- Really? - your eyes went wide.

You had seen Stranger Things before, and while it was definitely a good show, you surely hadn’t paid enough attention to that beauty right in front of you.

The first song was over and you kept your eyes glued on him. Finn took a few steps forward, crouched and read the setlist (a piece of paper taped to the stage floor), dipping his lips in a small glass bottle. You assumed it was some sort of beer that he was drinking. He took a sip and his eyes met yours a few seconds later. The smile he gave you simply melted your heart. You smiled back and mouthed “great show”, to which he simply mouthed back “thank you”.

You spent the rest of the concert vibing to the songs, swaying your body slowly from side to side and singing along the choruses and other small phrases you were able to pick up from. Finn had his eyes glued on yours. It was like he was singing to you specifically; everybody else just happened to be there.

As the concert was coming to an end, you felt someone touch your shoulder from behind.

- Excuse me, miss - you turned around and saw one of the security guards of the venue.

- Yes? - your eyebrows furrowed, as you were utterly confused as to who that man was and what could he possibly want. He came closer and nearly whispered in your ear, which was even weirder.

- Mr. Wolfhard would like to know if you can come backstage. They’re about to finish the show - he said, in a serious tone.

You blinked rapidly a few times. Like wait, what?

- I, um… Sure - you were able to respond. - What do I do?

- Come with me - he said, gesturing for you to follow him.

You followed the guard through a small passage that led backstage, where the dressing rooms were. He opened a door whose sign said “The Aubreys” in bold red lettering.

- Mr. Wolfhard will be with you in a minute, miss. Please wait inside and make yourself comfortable.

- Ok, thank you sir - you responded, entering the room as the guard nodded and shut the door shortly after.

Ok, this was definitely something. Your friends saw you leaving with the guard, but you had no time to explain what happened. You quickly texted “lol mr. wolfhard invited me backstage, ttyl” in your group chat, just so they wouldn’t be worried.

Not long after that, the door opened again.

- Dude, I’m so tired, I could lie on the floor and sleep right now - a shorter, blond-haired boy said, his eyes seeming droopy behind his glasses.

After finishing the sentence, he noticed you.

- Whoa there - he looked at Finn.

- That’s the girl I told you about - Finn said, pointing towards you with his chin.

- Oh - the other boy responded, his eyes widening. - I’ll just grab my stuff and go to the car, ok? I’ll have the driver take me home then you text him when you want him to come back and pick you up.

- Deal - Finn patted the boy on his back. - Get some rest, bud.

The blond boy grabbed his backpack, some other stuff and left, waving you two goodbye. You were a bit awkward there for a moment.

- Sorry about Malcolm - Finn chuckled after his friend shut the door. - He insisted on playing tonight, even though he's a bit sick, so…

- It's ok - you smiled. - It was a great show.

- Aw, really? - he smiled back, happily.

- Totally… I didn’t know you had a band, but I loved it. Indie rock is so up my alley, I’m surprised I hadn’t heard about you guys before.

- I didn’t know such a pretty girl would come see me, I’m surprised I still caught your eye - he tilted his head to the side slightly, playful. - I would’ve dressed nicer if I knew you’d come, you know?

- That does sound a lot like flirting, Mr. Wolfhard… - you chuckled, jokingly slapping his arm.

- Yeah? - he leaned in closer, a naughty little smirk on his face. - That’s good then.

There was something about the way he talked, the way he looked at you, something about his hands or his toned arms, maybe… Everything made you feel so hot, so beautiful, so desired. You couldn’t help but bite your lip.

- So what’s your name, pretty girl? - he grabbed your chin, smiling.

- It’s y/n - you chuckled. - What do I call you? Finn? Finnie?

- Call me what you want - he leaned in even closer. - I intend to call you “mine”, if that’s ok with you.

He was so cocky, his posture was irresistible.

- I’ll just call you “mine” too, then - you reached for his neck, bringing his lips down to the level of your own.

The kiss was slow, at first. His tongue soon asked for entrance and danced with yours, as his hands groped your waist possessively. You grabbed the hair at his nape urgently, pulling his face impossibly closer to yours, savoring his lips, his scent, taking him in as much as you could. Finn Wolfhard was such a good kisser, it was nearly a crime.

His hands then reached down to grope your ass, but he seemed to want a bit more of a direct contact.

- That leather skirt of yours is begging to be tossed to the floor, isn’t it? Poor thing… - he said, reaching for the zipper on your lower back. - Do you mind if I put it out of its misery?

- Do it - your voice was breathy with desire. - But I could say the same about your t-shirt… It also would appreciate the floor very much right now.

He unzipped your skirt, and it soon fell to the floor. You reached for the hem of his T-shirt, pulling it up and off of his body, both garments now keeping each other company on a nearby carpet.

His pale skin was soft to the touch, his chest now taken by your wandering hands. He alternated between fondling your ass and harshly groping it, making you moan into his mouth.

After he satisfied the urgent need to grope you, Finn put his arms under your butt to lift you up and off the floor, carefully depositing your body into a dressing table.

- Is this okay? - he asked, his voice raspy and sensual. - Is my pretty girl comfortable?

- Sure - you nearly moaned, wrapping your legs around his waist to bring his body closer.

He leaned in for another round of heated kisses, and your hands reached for his belt, unbuckling it quickly and immediately unzipping his pants.

- Those pants gotta go, don’t they? - you murmured, enraptured by his touch. - May I? - you inquired, lingering your gaze at his throbbing erection underneath his opened dark jeans.

- You call the shots, babe - he answered, his lips swollen from making out with you. Finn immediately discarded his pants and shoes, taking the time to take off your boots as well.

Soon, his pants were off and so was your shirt: your breasts were now getting covered in open mouth kisses, Finn seemed to be loving them, burying his face in between them. One of his hands went around your back, and his eyes shot up at yours for permission. You nodded lightly, your lips parted, hungry for some more of his touch. He unhooked your bra in a single movement, discarding it quickly.

With both hands, he kneaded your breasts eagerly, suckling into your nipples alternately. You felt like a feast in his hands.

You were both stripped down to your underwear, and Finn didn’t want to waste any time.

- Can these come off too? - he held the sides of your panties, pouting his luscious red lips.

- Only if these come off as well - you ran the sides of your feet at the sides of his boxers.

- Deal - he smirked, gliding the thin fabric of your panties down your smooth legs.

He seemed mesmerized by the sight of your glistening wet pussy. His lips quivering, his mouth nearly agape, his brows furrowed in what could only be described as pure lust. Finn kneeled in front of you, burying his face in between your legs without any further ado.

You let out a high pitched moan at the first flick of his tongue, surprised and pleased. He moaned at the taste of your pussy, making your slit vibrate deliciously in between his lips. You hissed as he kept licking your clit, his tongue circling you with the perfect pressure, the perfect speed… He was simply perfect. An index finger soon entered your drenched hole, pumping in and out of you as his tongue continued its irresistible work. As you came undone, your muscles involuntarily clenched around his finger, causing him to moan even more as he licked you through your high.

- You taste so good - he licked his lips as he stood back up, his finger still pumping in and out of you. - I bet you feel even better.

He took off his finger and held his length up to your soaking wet pussy.

- Can I?

- Yeah - you could manage to moan.

He slowly inserted himself into your tight hole, whimpering and breathing heavily at the feeling. You were even better than he had imagined. You pulled his hips closer, your eyes searching for his, trying to get him to pick up the pace. He noticed what you did, and couldn’t help but oblige.

Finn’s hair gently swayed around his neck as he thrusted, perfect, nearly in slow motion. Damn, that boy had *such* rockstar energy. You kept looking at him, eyes low with lust and pleasure from his movements, but also delighted by his beauty.

His hands grabbed your thighs possessively, harshly, trying to claim them as his. He had such beautiful hands, such a tight grip, ugh… You’d let him do whatever he wanted to do with you at that point.

- You feel so good - you moaned, squeezing him with your cunt.

- Ah, don’t squeeze me like that, baby girl - he gently grabbed your neck. - I can’t cum inside you…

- You could, if you wanted to - you teased, squeezing him again.

- You’re so naughty, princess, what should i do to you? - he removed himself from your pussy, afraid he’d cum too soon.

- Whatever you’d like, babe - you looked at him with a raw, lewd gaze.

Finn’s cock twitched in desire.

- You know, that low cut shirt you were wearing gave me some ideas…

- Oh, yeah?

- Uh-huh - he moistened his lips as his hands reached out for your naked breasts. - Can I put my cock in between them? That’d be so hot…

He squeezed them greedily, lustful.

- Sure, babe - you answered, smirking naughtily, holding yourself in an inviting way.

Finn guided his length into the valley between your breasts, and you pushed them one against the other to accommodate him. He was slick with your fluids already, so it was much easier to glide himself in that tightness you created with your hands.

His size allowed you to get the tip of his cock in between your lips, gently sucking it as he thrusted in between your boobs. His breathing was audible now, he’d even let out a few moans here and there.

You had never felt hotter in your entire life. You felt profane, naughty, lewd, everything. And you loved it.

- Damn, babe - he moaned, breathless. - You’re impossibly hot, can I cum in your mouth already?

You lightly nodded, sticking out your tongue so his tip would leak right in the middle of it. A few moans later, Finn released himself into your mouth, covering your tongue in thick, hot ropes of his cum.

You gently licked his tip clean before swallowing his seed. He was still trying to catch his breath, and the sight of you doing that certainly didn’t help.

- I swear you’re the hottest girl I’ve ever met - he panted.

- It was my pleasure, darling. - you chuckled softly.

Finn helped you get dressed and put his own clothes back on, chatting about the concert and asking some more about your musical taste. It turns out, you both loved The Beatles and wish you had a Time Machine to chill in the 1960’s together.

- Thank you for the evening, y/n - he smiled. - I had a great time.

- So did I - you smiled back at him.

- I’ll get my driver to drop you off at your place, is that ok? - he ran his fingers through your hair, his other hand busy with his phone.

- Sure - you nodded. - That’s very kind.

- No problem - he seemed to open a different tab on his phone. - Now, can I have your number?

He handed you the phone, his eyes bright and kind. You typed in your number carefully, afraid you’d mess up. You handed him back the phone, happy.

Soon, his driver arrived and he kissed you goodbye before you left the venue, just to avoid any remaining paparazzi. You walked to the car, greeted the driver and kept quiet the whole way home, reminiscing what happened. Wow.

Your heart was nearly thumping out of your chest when you finally got home and lied down on your bed after that amazing night. And as you thought it couldn’t get any better, your phone lit up.

New message - unknown number

Hi y/n, it’s Finn. did u get home safe? when can I see u again?

[fandomrewrites]

Legends Chapter 1: Conscription Day

Hello everyone, Welcome to the Fourth Wing. Please read my post on the disclaimer/authors note before reading this chapter. I hope you all enjoy this story as much as I have enjoyed writing it! Please let me know if you want to be added to a taglist. As always constructive criticism is welcomed.

Chapters 1-3 in Fourth Wing Pairings: Xaden x Younger Sister, Liam Mairi x Best Friend Warnings: Violence, Death, Swearing, Spoilers from the book series Word Count: 6,492

Legends Masterlist

I bonded a blue daggertail. Her name is Sgaeyl. I think she'd like you. - Recovered correspondence from Cadet Xaden Riorson to (Y/N) Riorson

It's conscription day, and being a marked one means joining the rider's quadrant whether we want to or not. Lucky for me, I've always loved dragons and knew I wanted to bond one even before the Tyrrish Rebellion. Call me crazy, but flying on a dragon that you have an irreplaceable bond with, that sounds like something to live for.

Plus there's a bonus for me today, after being separated for 5 years, I finally get to see my older brother again. Navarre separated every separatist child that had a sibling, not wanting them to be together and potentially plan another uprising. My brother, Xaden, and I kept in touch through letters of course, but haven't had the chance to see each other since they split us up. His first year in the quadrant was the worse since first years aren't allowed to send or receive letters at all. They claim it helps support wing loyalty but I think it's just about control.

I'm dressed in a tight black tank top and skin tight black pants with a pack filled with only necessities. I have a few daggers strapped to my thighs and ribs as well, one of which has Tyrrish runes on the hilt. My father, Fen Riorson, also known as 'The Great Betrayer' gave me the dagger when I was 13. It's the only type of dagger that can kill Venin. Most people believe Venin are just a fairy tale but they're real and incredibly dangerous. My long black hair is dyed with bright rainbow underneath and is in a high bun, a few wisps of hair loose around my face.

I look around me, then glance up at the tower I'm about to climb. I slowly smile, wondering how quickly I'll be able to find my brother. When I look back to the people around me, some tend to be glancing at my rebellion relic on my left arm, mine's the second biggest out of all of them, it starts at my wrist and stops at the base of my neck. I roll my eyes when I see people scowl. Navarrian's judge too quickly, if only they knew what was really out there.

I quickly join the line behind a blonde boy. He gives his name to the scribe taking roll call. Beside the scribe is a rider with a rebellion relic. I smile when I realize who it is. "Next," The rider calls out. He looks up, his eyes meeting mine, and smiles, "(Y/N) Riorson. It's good to see you. You look good."

I reach down to pick up the quill and write my name, "Thanks Masen, you do too. It's really good to see a familiar face."

"You're brother will be happy to see you. He's made Wingleader."

"Good, he deserves it. I'll see you up there." Masen nods as I step past the table. The girl behind me taking my place. I slowly start up the stairs behind the blonde boy, my eyes adjusting to the darkness.

"Sorrengail as in...?" I hear the girl behind me ask. I turn around to see who she's talking to. The girl directly behind me has high cheekbones and an oval face. Her dark brown hair is worn in several rows of short braids that just touch the dark skin of her neck. She looks to be about the same height as me.

The girl behind her replies, "Yep." She's petite, her skin is pale and her eyes are blue, or maybe green? The thing that gives her away though is her hair. She's brunette but the ends are silver. Her hair is styled in a braid to keep it out of her face. It sits like a crown at the top of her head.

"The general?" The blonde guy in front of me turns and asks.

"The same one." The general's daughter replies.

"Wow. Nice leathers, too."

"Yeah, you look hot." I say, smiling at the girl. Most people would think since her mother killed my father I would hate her, but that's just not me. Don't get me wrong, I can't stand her mother. But we are not our parents.

"Thanks," She blushes, "They're courtesy of my sister."

"I wonder how many candidates have fallen off the edge of the steps and died before they even reach the parapet," The woman behind me says.

"That's a morbid thought," I mutter, but crack a smile.

"Two last year. Well, three if you count the girl one of the guys landed on." Sorrengail answers.

"How many steps are there?" Asks the girl between me and Sorrengail.

"Two hundred and fifty." The four of us walk in silence for a few minutes.

"Not too bad. I'm Rhiannon Matthias, by the way."

"Dylan," The blonde ahead of me replies.

"Violet." The youngest Sorrengail introduces.

The three turn towards me, "You'll find out soon." I smile. I don't want Violet to get the wrong idea about me after she finds out my name. I could give her just my first name but I'm not sure if she'll recognize it, so I'd rather not say anything. I notice her glance at my rebellion relic, curiosity written on her face.

"I feel like I've been waiting my entire life for this day." Dylan says, bringing the attention to him. "Can you believe we actually get to do this? It's a dream come true."

A smile lights up mine and Rhiannon's faces, "I can't fucking wait." Rhiannon says, "I mean, who wouldn't want to ride a dragon?"

"Do your parents approve?" Dylan asks, "Because my mom's been begging me to change my mind for months. I keep telling her that I'll have better chances for advancement as a rider, but she wanted me to enter the Healer Quadrant."

"Mine always knew I wanted this, so they've been pretty supportive. Besides, they have my twin to dote on. Reagan's already living her dream, married and expecting a baby." Rhiannon says, she glances back at Violet, "What about you? Let me guess. With a name like Sorrengail, I bet you were the fist volunteer this year."

"I was more like volun-told." Violet replies. We all nod in understanding. "What about you," She looks at me, "Or is that something else we can't know yet?" We've caught up to the guy in front of us, he has light brown hair and tanned skin. He doesn't turn when he hears us approach, instead he continues to focus on the steps in front of him.

I laugh, "My mom hasn't been around since I was 8 and my dad died during the rebellion." I gesture to my relic, the guy in front of Dylan tenses. "I can't say much about my mom but I don't think my dad would had wanted me to join. He was Infantry, wanted my brother to join like him and I think he would had been happy with me joining any other quadrant. But it's been my dream to bond a dragon since I can remember." I shrug. "So even if I wasn't, how did you put it? Volun-told, I would still be here today."

"You were forced into the riders quadrant?" Dylan asks.

"Yeah, all marked ones are required to join. It was a deal made for us to survive instead of dying alongside our parents." I pause, "I think they were hoping we'd be killed off here, but lots of marked ones have become riders, so jokes on them." The guy in front of Dylan finally turns around, his eyes land on my relic causing his glare to harden. He looks disgusted but I just roll my eyes.

There's an awkward silence before Violet changes the topic back to riders perks, "Riders don't get way better perks than other officers." She says to Dylan, "Better pay, more leniency with the uniform policy." She trails off.

"And the right to call yourself a supreme bad ass," Rhiannon adds.

Violet nods in agreement. "Plus, I've heard that riders are allowed to marry sooner than the other quadrants." Dylan says.

"True, right after graduation." Violet replies. "I think it has something to do with wanting to continue bloodlines."

"Or because we tend to die sooner than the other quadrants." Rhiannon says.

"Exactly, we need to actually make it the three years in the quadrant first," I continue.

"I'm not dying." Dylan says confidently, he pulls a necklace from under his tunic, there's a ring dangling from the chain. "She said it would be bad luck to propose before I left, so we're waiting until graduation." He kisses the ring before tucking the chain back under his shirt, "The next three years are going to be long ones, but they'll be worth it."

I keep my mouth shut but something in me screams that it's not going to turn out alright for him. I admire his confidence, hell I'm confident I'll be fine. But talking about the future so far in advance feels like you're asking Zihnal to give you all the bad luck in the world.

"You might make it across the parapet," The guy behind Violet sneers, "This one here is a breeze away from the bottom of the ravine." Violet and I simultaneously roll our eyes.

"Shut up and focus on yourself." Rhiannon snaps. The top of the tower comes into sight. The clouds look gray and there is a breeze, it's going to start raining any minute now. I can't tell how windy it actually is until I step forward, pass the enclosed walls. The brunette in front of Dylan just started across the parapet, slow and steady.

I eye the three Riders taking roll call, one is instructing Dylan and another is writing the names down but my gaze is locked on the last one. I immediately notice his relic, his black hair, and tawny skin that matches mine, and a smile stretches across my face. Before I can say anything to him Dylan turns towards us, '"See you three on the other side!"

I nod in acknowledgment then my gaze snaps back to the rider with the relic, a smirk is on his face when my eyes reach his. I run up to him and give him a big hug. "I've missed you so much, Xaden!"

He laughs, "I have a reputation to uphold, you're ruining it," He mutters, but he still wraps me in a hug just as big. We pull away and he checks me over, "You've grown a lot since I last saw you."

"Well duh, I was 15." I roll my eyes.

Xaden's eyes narrow, we have the same gold-flecked onyx eyes, "Same attitude though. You ready, (Y/N)?"

I nod confidently, stepping up to the other rider, "(Y/N) Riorson." The riders eyes flicker between me and my brother, "Yes, we're siblings."

Behind me I hear Rhiannon, "You ready for this Sorrengail?"

Xaden's gaze snaps to Violet, I roll my eyes knowing he's going to have to say something to the petite woman. "Sorrengail?"

Violet doesn't answer, so Rhiannon nudges her, "Violet?"

"You're General Sorrengail's youngest."

"And you two are Fen Riorson's kids." Violet counters looking between Xaden and I.

"Your mother captured our father and saw his execution."

I sigh, "Xaden-"

"Your father killed my older brother. Seems like we're even." Violet replies. If only she knew he was alive.

Rhiannon looks at me, "He won't do anything, right?" She asks.

"No." I shake my head.

"You all right?" Rhiannon asks Violet.

Xaden glances at her then me, "You guys friends?"

"We met on the stairs." Violet replies, "All of us."

"Interesting."

"Are you going to kill me?" Violet asks, she glances between my brother and me.

The sky opens up, rain pouring over us. A scream comes from the parapet. We all turn our heads to see Dylan slip. I knew something was going to happen, I just didn't know it would be this quickly. He catches himself, hooking his arms over the stone bridge, his feet scrambling for something to grab onto. "Let go of your pack!" I call out to him.

"Pull yourself up, Dylan!" Rhiannon screams right after me.

But Dylan loses his grip on the parapet. He falls, his body disappearing from view. The guy in front of him, has turned around, watching where Dylan falls. "Why would I waste my energy killing you when the parapet will do it for me?" I hear Xaden say to Violet. He turns back to me, "Don't you dare die out there. I just got you back."

"Please, I can skip across and still be fine. Maybe do a little spin?" I smirk at my brother.

Xaden glares, "Don't test anything. Especially not in this weather."

"Yeah, yeah. See you later. Can't wait to meet Sgaeyl." I turn towards the girls, "Good luck. Hope to see you both on the other side."

I step up onto the soaked parapet, the wisps of loose hair whipping in my face. I take a step and put my arms out to the sides to keep my balance. If it wasn't rainy, I would had been fine walking without my arms out for balance, but my shoes don't have a good grip which I realize after just a few steps. I slowly kneel down, untying my right boot and taking it off. I slowly stand up, boot in hand, and take one step forward so my left foot is in front of me. I bend down again, untying my left boot, taking it off and holding it in my other hand.

Once I'm standing up at my full height I notice the brunette is still standing on the parapet, facing me. "Dude, are you going to continue?" The guy smirks at me, he slowly takes a dagger out of a sheath at his ribs. "You've gotta be fucking kidding me." I mumble to myself.

I tie my shoelaces together, then place them over my neck like a scarf to free my hands. I reach for my dagger that's strapped to my thigh. "Last chance to continue before I kill you." I yell at the guy. He's bigger than me but there's no way I'm dying here. Not today.

The guy scoffs, "I'd like to see you try." He beckons me forward. So, with nothing else to do, I charge. I'm quick, quicker than what he thought I would be considering the look on his face. I fly over the wet stone, once I get close enough, I drop into a slide. Before he can block me, I kick my leg out, he falls to his back with a heavy thud, the air knocked out of his lungs.

I stand up quick, he tries to lift his dagger up to protect himself, but I kick his arm. The unmistakable sound of bone snapping can be heard over the pounding rain. His dagger falls out of his hand, dropping to the ravine below. I bend down over him, dagger held to his throat, "Should had walked away when you had the chance." Before he can beg for his life, I slit his throat, I wipe the blood off my knife with his shirt then I search his sheaths for anymore daggers, placing them in my own sheaths, before I push his body off the parapet.

I stand up straight again, noticing blood on my hand, I wipe it off on my own shirt and double check my sheaths. I look ahead of me, noticing that I have about ten more feet before making it to the other side. Ten more feet before I can become a cadet. I square my shoulders, raise my head high, then continue across like nothing happened.

Once I take my last step off the parapet, I turn to the rider sitting beside the scroll for name call. She has red hair and a crossbow attached to her back, "Name?" She asks.

"(Y/N) Riorson." I smile.

She snorts, "Should have known."

The male rider next to her looks me up and down, noticing the boots around my neck, "Can't say I've ever seen someone cross barefoot. Or kill someone that quickly on the parapet."

"Yeah, well, there's a first time for everything." I remove the boots from around my neck then look away from the rider. I instantly make eye connect with someone I haven't seen in 5 years. He's under an overhang, keeping out of the rain. His blue eyes connect with my onyx ones, a smirk on his face. I run towards him and jump into his arms, boots gently bouncing off his back. "I missed you so fucking much, Liam."

Liam and I have been best friends for years, his mother Colonel Mairi worked with my father during the rebellion. He was also fostered with my brother. Liam and I wrote letter's to each other often, especially when Xaden went into his first year in the quadrant. We promised each other that we would wait for the other after crossing the parapet, wanting to see each other as soon as possible.

"I missed you too, (Y/N)." He pulls back slightly, still holding me in his arms. "Crossing the parapet barefoot and did I hear that guy say you killed someone?" He shakes his head. He reaches lower, picking up my legs to lock them around his waist.

"What are you doing?" I smile at him, but keep my arms and legs locked around him. "And yes I killed someone, he was trying to kill me first, I gave him the option to walk away but he didn't listen."

"Carrying you to a bench," He answers my question before continuing to talk about the candidate I killed, "I'm guessing he didn't realize who you were if he challenged you."

"I can walk, you know." I reply, rolling my eyes. "And you'd be correct, he saw my relic but didn't know anything else."

"Yes, but the ground is gross and you have no socks or shoes on." He stops in front of a bench, gently placing me back on the ground. "Sit." I sit, watching as he kneels in front of me, reaching for my boots. He unties the laces so they're no longer together, "Already getting death threats." He mumbles under his breath.

"I can also put on my own shoes." I smirk. I choose to drop the conversation about the guy I killed unless he asks me more questions.

"I know. But why should you when I'm here?" He smiles.

I sigh as he lifts my left foot to put my boot back on. "You're too good to me."

"Just treating you like you deserve."

"I don't know. I think this is a lot."

Liam shakes his head, "Absolutely not. You deserve to be treated like a fucking Goddess. So that's exactly how I'll treat you." I blush at his words.

"Well at least stop looking at me like that." I say as he puts my left foot down and picks up my right. His blue eyes are soft, he's looking at me like he's seeing the sun for the first time in years.

"I can't help it. You're beautiful. And I haven't seen you in 5 years."

"I look like a mess right now." I wave a hand indicating my hair which is messy from the wind and rain.

"You always look beautiful to me." His smile lights up his face.

"Stop. I'll have to marry you if you keep saying all these nice things to me." I roll my eyes, but the smile on my face tells him I'm not annoyed.

"Then I'll have to thank Zihnal, because luck would surely be on my side if I get to marry you." I giggle, causing his eyes to light up. He squeezes my thigh, "All set." He stands up, hands stretched in front of him to help me up.

I kiss his cheek once I'm at my full height, "Thank you, handsome."

"You're very welcome," His eyes scan my body, making sure I'm alright, "Are you okay? That guy didn't hurt you, right?"

I shake my head, keeping one of my hands in his, "No, he didn't even get one hit in. Now come on. I gotta make sure the girls I met on the stairs made it." When I get back to the parapet I see Violet and Rhiannon hugging. I let go of Liam's hand, making my way to the girls, "You guys made it!"

"We did!" Rhiannon yells back, pulling me into a hug. Violet hangs back clearly unsure how to act around me. "Thank gods you're okay! Your brother looked about ready to murder that guy when he saw you start to fight. I seriously thought he was going to start crossing and interfere, but you ended everything so quick he didn't have a chance."

"The guy was underestimating me." I shrug, "He thought because he was bigger he could easily over power me, clearly that didn't work." I then gesture towards Liam, "This is Liam Mairi, my best friend." Liam smiles, waving at Rhiannon and Violet.

Rhiannon smiles back at Liam, she then turns her attention back to Violet, looping an arm through hers, "We need to switch our shoes back."

"There's a bench right over-"

I'm cut off as a tall figure in rider black pushes past Liam and I, moving towards the youngest Sorrengail, "Violet?" He looks her over, "What the hell are you doing here?"

"Good to see you too, Dain." Violet replies, her knees give out once the sentence leaves her mouth.

"Damn it, Violet," he mutters. He wraps an arm around her, helping her stand straight. He moves her to the bench that Liam and I just left. Rhiannon, Liam, and I exchange looks before following.

"I'm going to be sick." Violet whispers.

"Head between your knees," Dain replies. The two clearly know each other. "It's the adrenaline. Give it a minute and it will pass." He finally turns to the rest of the group, "Who the hell are you guys?" He eyes mine and Liam's rebellion relics.

I glare at him as Rhiannon answers, "I'm Rhiannon... Violet's friend."

Dain's eyes linger on me and Liam. "I'm Liam Mairi." Liam introduces.

"(Y/N)." I say, not giving him my last name.

"Full name, cadet." Dain growls.

I roll my eyes, "(Y/N) Riorson. Asshole." Liam's lips quirk up, fighting a smile.

Dain's glare hardens at my name, "Listen to me. Violet is fine. And if anyone asks, then tell them exactly what I said, that it's just the adrenaline working out of her system. Understand?"

"It's no one's business what's going on with Violet," Rhiannon retorts. "So I wouldn't say shit. Especially not when she's the reason I made it across the parapet."

"You better mean that," Dain's eyes flicker back to Liam and I.

"Like Rhiannon said, it's no ones business. So I won't say shit." I reply, Liam nodding in agreement.

"Why are you even here, Riorson? We're in formation. You can't kill her."

I roll my eyes, "If I wanted Sorrengail dead, I would had pushed her off the stairs the minute I realized who she was. Who the fuck are you anyway?"

"He's one of my oldest friends," Violet replies, slowly lifting her head.

"And a second-year rider, Cadet. Show some respect."

"I'll show some respect when you earn it." I snap back. Dain glares but focuses back on Violet. They have a whispered conversation. Rhiannon, Liam, and I hanging back.

"Vi, do you trust this one?" He asks Violet, nodding towards Rhiannon and leaving Liam and I out of the question. Violet nods, causing Dain to turn towards Rhiannon, "I'm Dain Aetos, and I'm the leader of Second Squad, Flame Section, Second Wing." No wonder he's bossy. Still doesn't mean I'm going to respect him if he's being a judgy ass just because of my last name.

"Parapet should be over in the next couple of hours, depending on how fast the candidates cross or fall. Go find the redhead with the roll - she's usually carrying a crossbow - and tell her that Dain Aetos put both you and Violet Sorrengail into his squad. If she questions you, tell her she owes me from saving her ass at Threshing last year. I'll bring Violet back to the courtyard shortly."

Rhiannon looks at Violet in reassurance. Violet nods. "Go before someone see us," Dain orders. When Rhiannon leaves Dain looks back at Liam and I.

"Don't worry, I can tell when I'm not wanted." I roll my eyes, at the taller boy. Before leaving I turn back towards Violet, "I really am happy to see you made it." I grab Liam's hand once more pulling him away.

"Becoming friends with a Sorrengail?" Liam asks.

"She's not her mom. And according to her she didn't even want to be here. I need to find Bodhi." Liam nods, "Did you want to come with?"

Liam shrugs, "Sure, haven't seen him in a while. Might as well say hi."

Liam and I look around the group of cadets, and gently elbow our way past people to try and find my cousin. Just like Xaden and Liam, it's been 5 years since I've seen him so I'm definitely eager to catch up. It's only his second year, so last year I didn't get to keep in contact with him. Xaden, of course, let me know how he was doing and that he bonded a green swordtail named Cuir. "I know you said that guy didn't hurt you but how are you feeling? He was the first person you killed, right?"

"He was," I confirm, "But I feel fine, it's not a big deal. I knew coming here, especially with my last name, it was going to be kill or be killed. And I quite like living so I don't really have another option." Liam nods, but still keeps a close eye on me. He's always been protective, despite knowing that I'm completely capable of caring for myself.

As we walk through the crowd, my eyes land on Eya, who is a second year and my foster sister. "Eya!" I call out. Her eyes snap to me, a giant smile showing on her face.

She stops talking to the woman next to her and wraps me in a big hug. "I've missed you."

"I've missed you too. Have you seen Bodhi?"

She shakes her head, leaning back to look me over, "He should be around here."

"I'm fine. No need to look me over like that."

She rolls her eyes, "Your balance was always the best but you can't blame me for being concerned." Her eyes narrow on the spot of blood smeared into my shirt, "Is that blood?"

"It's not mine. And I'm alive. That's all that matters right now."

Her eyes widen, "It's not yours?"

Before I can reply, strong arms wrap around me from behind, "There you are! Thank gods you're okay!" I recognize Bodhi's voice instantly, he backs away, grabbing my shoulder's to turn me around so we're eye to eye. "I was hearing rumors that you were attacked on the parapet. Are they true?"

I smile, "Yes, they're true. Yes, I'm fine. Yes, I killed him. The blood is his, not mine. Any other questions I missed the answer too?"

Liam adds on, "Don't forget you were also barefoot."

"What happened?" Eya asks, bringing my attention back towards her. So I retell the story about the guy glaring at me when he found out I was a marked one and how he waited for me on the parapet so I couldn't cross and my only option was to kill him.

"He didn't even know your last name?" Bodhi questions. I shake my head, "Fuck, I know we're targeted but..." He trails off.

"I knew coming here I was going to be targeted, even worse once people know who I am. I'm not dying at the hands of another cadet. If I die here, it's going to be because the dragons decide I'm not worthy, but gods do I hope that's not the case."

He nods, "Always the smart one. But we all got your back. You're not alone in here. Imogen and Garrick will be happy to see you again. And of course there's us three," He nods towards Eya and Liam, "And Xaden. We won't let anything happen to you."

I smile brightly, "I know, but no need to worry about me, like I said, I have everything handled. And gods am I excited to see everyone again. I was lucky to be with Eya in our foster home but it's nice to have all of you back." Because marked ones can only be in groups of three or less, Liam leaves me alone with Bodhi and Eya. He hugs me goodbye, reassuring me that we'll talk again soon. For the next two hours I sit with Bodhi and Eya, waiting for the last of the cadets to cross the parapet. Xaden is the last to cross the parapet once all the cadets have crossed over. He stops to say something to the redhead, then moves away, towards the front of the courtyard.

"Looks like we're about to start, get over there with the other first years, we'll see you later." Bodhi pulls me into a quick hug as he speaks. As soon as Bodhi lets go, Eya hugs me too. I smile one last time at them before I turn and head towards the group of first years.

I spot Rhiannon first, moving to stand beside her. I flash a quick smile at her, Violet, and another girl that I haven't met yet, then face forward. "Three hundred and one of you have survived the parapet to become cadets today," Commandant Panchek starts, "Good job. Sixty seven did not."

The girl I don't know whispers to us, "I heard this is just a stepping stone for him. He wants Sorrengail's job, then General Melgren's."

"General Melgren's?" Rhiannon whispers back.

"He'll never get it," Violet says just as quietly, "Melgren's dragon gives him the signet ability to see a battle's outcome before it happens." Except for when there's four or more marked ones in the battle, but I don't tell them that. This is why only three marked ones are allowed to be around each other at a time. Not that we actually listen to the man who killed our parents. "There's no beating that, and you can't be assassinated if you know it's coming."

Panchek continues, "As the Codex says, now you begin the true crucible! You will be tested by your superiors, hunted by your peers, and guided by your instincts. If you survive to Threshing, and if you are chosen, you will be riders. Then we'll see how many live to graduation."

There's a pause before Panchek continues, "Your instructors will teach you," he swings a hand to indicate the professors. "It's up to you how well you learn." He then points at us. "Discipline falls to your units, and your wingleader is the last word. If I have to get involved... You don't want me involved."

"With that said, I'll leave you to your wingleaders. My best advice, don't die." Panchek walks off stage and a brunette woman takes his place.

"I'm Nyra, the senior wingleader of the quadrant and the head of the first wing. Section leaders and squad leaders, take your positions now."

Second and Third years gather at the front, I see Garrick standing among them, he's a section leader for fourth wing. "Sections and squads." Violet whispers. "Three squads in each section and three sections in each of the four wings."

"Thank you," Rhiannon whispers back, I already knew this thanks to Xaden.

"First Squad!" Nyra calls out. "Claw section! First Wing!" A man close to the dais raises his hand. "Cadets, when your name is called, take up formation behind your squad leader."

The cadet with red hair that took our names once we got off the parapet stands in the front with her scroll and starts calling out names. The asshole that stood behind Violet on the stairs, Jack, gets placed into Third Squad, Flame Section, First Wing. Tara, the girl standing next to Violet that I never got the name of, is called into First Squad, Tail Section, First Wing. Rhiannon and Violet are placed together in Flame Section of Second Wing, Dain's Squad.

Liam gets called for Second Squad, Tail Section, Fourth Wing. I'm not called until Second Squad, Flame Section of Fourth Wing. Though no surprises there when I see Xaden is Fourth Wings wingleader. Once the final name is called the wingleaders get into a heated discussion. Once the argument is settled, Nyra calls out. "Dain Aetos, you and your squad will switch with Aura Beinhaven's. Except for Cadet's Scarlett McCall and (Y/N) Riorson. You two will stay where you are."

I stay put as the rest of my former squad moves to Second Wing and Rhiannon, Violet, and Imogen, who I just spotted for the first time, head my way. I send Imogen a quick smile, she squeezes my hand as she passes by to stand behind me. "It's good to see you." She whispers.

"You too," I whisper back. Unlike Xaden, Bodhi, and Liam, throughout the years after the rebellion I still saw Imogen. Our foster parents were friends and lived close to each other which made it easy for the two of us to stay in contact.

Nyra and Xaden exchange a look before Xaden takes Nyra's place. "You're all cadets now," Xaden starts, "Take a look at your squad. These are the only people guaranteed by Codex not to kill you. But just because they can't end your life doesn't mean others won't. You want a dragon? Earn one."

Most people cheer but I keep my mouth shut, there's nothing to celebrate yet. "And I bet you feel pretty bad ass right now, don't you, first years?" There are more cheers. "You feel invincible after the parapet, don't you?" Xaden shouts, "You think you're untouchable! You're on the way to becoming the elite! The few! The chosen!" Xaden reminds me of dad, he knows how to hold the attention of a crowd. Knows how to be a leader.

As people cheer, wing beats can be heard getting louder, growing closer. "Oh gods, they're beautiful." Rhiannon whispers from ahead of me. A smile grows on my face as I see the navy blue dragon, that must be Sgaeyl. And damn, is she gorgeous, they all are.

A few cadets scream as the dragons land on the side of the walls, steam blows across us, as Sgaeyl swings her head in an elegant, lethal sweep. There are three dragons in shades of red, two in shades of green, one brown, one orange, and Sgaeyl, the lone blue. One cadet in third wing makes a run for it. I can't help but roll my eyes, he can't seriously think that he'll actually make it. The red dragon on the left opens its mouth, revealing huge teeth. Fire erupts along its tongue incinerating the fleeing cadet.

Two more cadets run and two more blasts of heat fill the air around us. Seventy dead now. After a pause and no more cadets running, Xaden speaks once more, "Anyone else feel like changing their mind? No? Excellent. Roughly half of you will be dead by this time next summer." The formation is silent except for a few sobs, Xaden's eyes scan the crowd, pausing on me, "A third of you again the year after that, and the same your last year. No one cares who your mommy or daddy is here. Even King Tauri's second son died during his Threshing. So tell me again: Do you feel invincible now that you've made it into the Rider's Quadrant? Untouchable? Elite?" No one cheers this time.

A blast of warmth, hits the side of my face. I blink, glancing sideways at Sgaeyl. She breathes in my scent, she must know that I'm Xaden's sister. My mouth quirks up into a smile, eyes trained on her. The dragons, and probably the older cadet's, want us scared. But I was born for this, I'm ready. I'm not dumb enough to be overly cocky, I know shit happens and there's a chance I'll die any day now, but I refuse to go down without a fight. I'm determined to make it to graduation. And even longer than that.

"Because you're not untouchable or special to them." My eyes flicker back to Xaden as he points to his dragon, "To them, you're just the prey."

*_*_*_*_*_*

Before bed I meet with Xaden one last time in the courtyard. He throws an arm over my shoulders in a one armed hug, "Who did you reunite with after parapet?" He asks.

"Liam, Bodhi, and Eya." I pause, "And briefly, Imogen. I know you didn't switch my squad because of me, but I'm happy you did."

"It's none of your business why I switched your squad. My room is on the third floor, last door on the left. I have it warded so only you and I can get in. If you need me, try there first." I nod as he pauses, "I also want to warn you, don't let Aetos touch your face. I don't know why he would try with you but just in case I want you to be aware."

"What's up with Aetos?" I question.

"He's a memory reader. It's supposed to be classified information so don't go telling anyone but you need to know."

"Well, I'm pretty sure he hates me, but if he tries I'll break his arm before he can lay a hand on me."

"Why do you think he hates you?" Xaden's eyes narrow.

"I called him an asshole and said the only way I would respect him is if he earned it."

The right side of Xaden's lips twitch into a smile, "Of course you did," he sighs. "Try not to piss him off more, he's your squad leader."

"So? You can just get me out of trouble. You're my wingleader."

"And show bias? No way."

"Well what's the point of me being in your wing if you don't even help me out." I cross my arms, "I bet I can get Garrick to defend me against Dain."

"Yeah, you're probably right about that. We both think he's a dick, now get to bed. I'll see you tomorrow morning." Xaden dismisses me, but before he walks too far away I call out to him.

"Xaden!" He turns around to look at me, "Tell Sgaeyl I think she's badass." Xaden chuckles, shaking his head, then continues down the corridor.

[undead-supernova]

Brutal! / Masterlist / 18+

part 1 / part 2 / part 3 / part 4 / part 5 - tbc

Playlist

pairing: Eddie Munson x fem!reader

plot: it's all fun and games, all soft kisses and gentle words until the past is revealed and new perspectives are learned

contains: talks about past sexual trauma, eddie reliving trauma, confident!reader

note: this chapter is different than the others and it is on purpose. when we erase the stories and feelings of victims, we erase the possibility of recovery and healing. especially those of us who are forgotten amongst recognition.

please do not read this part if the subject of sexual assault is triggering for you

song inspo: Seven by Phinehas

wc: 4.1k

special thanks to @jo-harrington for helping to edit and @littlexdeaths for your lovely divider. i appreciate you both for being so encouraging and lovely friends

You didn’t want to admit that what happened at the party had upset you.

Well, not the part where Eddie made you cum. That had been heavenly—euphoric. It couldn’t even be considered a state of bliss. It was more like an inferno, the lascivious flames pulling you further and further into the blaze.

But there were his words in your head again, the ones hurled at you before he realized his mistake.

Are you using me?

If we even fuck, is that it?

Will the chase be over for you?  

The water rushed down your neck, the steam billowing throughout the tiny bathroom as you turned up the heat again. You had to let it scorch your skin, had to let the sting pull you back down to a state of normalcy.

There was a memory that you dared not touch from freshman year. One that still crept up every now and then, in half-asleep states and furious daylight. A growling beast, one with a four-letter name and a specified interest in IPAs as if he was the Christopher Goddamn Columbus of beer. 

You shut your eyes, convinced that his hands were pressing in on the grimy tile behind you, stretching the wall to tear the veil and grab you. Like that one scene in A Nightmare on Elm Street, he was always trying to split you in two.

Further and further he pushed, so close to gripping your throat. So close to suffocating you once more and pulling you back down to the shadows. 

Knock, knock.

You gasped, jumping back and almost slipping before steadying yourself.        

“Hey, Eddie’s here!” Aron called from behind the door.

  “Okay!” you shouted back.

You placed a hand on your chest to still your thrumming heart before you really processed her words. Letting out a scoff at your own absentmindedness, you shouted, “Be out in a minute!”

Maybe you always felt like you were being split in two, now more than ever. Having these emotions that you’d pushed down for the sake of survival. Changing yourself to fit the way you wanted others to see you. That mask, all gnarly and scary just to prove to yourself more than anyone that you were no longer the fool.

It made you wonder if you’d been putting this mask on for Eddie. But things would be better with him. 

They always were.

It started with midterm study time, you swear. You really tried, pulling up a three hour long video of Cozy Fall Oldies Muffled In Another Room Next to a Fireplace While it Rains to help keep both you and Eddie focused. Going back and forth, you took turns helping the other with flashcards. While you were honing in on 20th Century Lit, he was groaning through his Algebra I equations. 

Within twenty minutes, Eddie decided it would be more motivating if you gave him a kiss every time he got the equation right. 

Though you rolled your eyes, you indulged him. Whatever got him to study.

“What happens if I get an answer right?” you asked, lifting an eyebrow.

“That’s up to you,” he replied with a shrug, looking back down at his TI-84 calculator. But you noticed the hint of a smile at the corners of his lips as he quickly glanced back up at you. “We could always play Strip Study.”

“‘Strip Study’, huh?” you teased.

“Yeah, it’s a good game. Very helpful in trying times.”

“And what are the rules to this so-called Strip Study?”

“Well…” he trailed, setting the calculator down before shifting closer to you on your twin-sized bed. Counterintuitive to the point of your study date, Eddie pushed aside your textbook and came to hover over you. You refused to move, challenging him with your faux expression of disappointment. It was impressive, seeing him this forward. Above all else, however, you were quite amused.

“If you answer correctly,” he started, slowly pushing you down into the mattress. “then you’ll just have to take off a piece of clothing.”

You snorted, shaking your head at him. He mocked you, shaking his head right back, tickling you with his curls. “And that’s supposed to be for my enjoyment?” you pondered.

Eddie leaned down, taking the opportunity to leave a kiss on your neck. You could’ve sworn you heard him take a deep breath, like he was desperately inhaling your scent. There was a part of you that wished to do the same.

“Fine,” he conceded. “I’ll take off a piece of clothing. How does that sound?”

“Hm,” you hummed as your fingers traced his collarbone before you pushed him back. He shivered as you crawled on top of him, his dominance cracking in an instant. Without thought, you grabbed his wrist before bringing it up to your mouth. You closed your eyes momentarily to breathe in his cologne, his being. You made sure to meet his eyes as you lightly bit down on his skin.

He was opening his mouth to fill the silence, but you quickly leaned down, gently ghosting your lips against his before whispering, “Not a chance.”

Immediately you sat up and scooted away, grabbing your textbook before he could retaliate. 

He laid there for a moment, a heavy sigh leaving his lips before sitting back up and giving you a look. Was it annoyance? Disappointment? Who could say. 

“You really hate me, don’t you?”

Shrugging, you felt around for your TV remote before turning up the music. “I hate the thought of you failing your Algebra midterm because I gave you a free peep show.”

When you looked back at him, he finally wore a grin. “It would be a metal way to go.”

“Well, maybe if you pass your midterm I’ll let you have a look,” you challenged.

You were amazed when that is what got him to shut up and get back to work.

After a few hours of real studying, Eddie dramatically collapsed on top of you, burying his face into your sweatshirt. He planted a swift kiss over your belly before sighing.

“Okay. Nap time.” 

You couldn’t help but giggle. “I think you earned it.”

“I think that’s the longest I’ve ever studied.”

You peered down, watching his mahogany eyes soften, drooping ever so slightly. Without thought, you ran your middle finger across the stray hairs of his now too-long bangs to keep away from his eyes. You pocketed the thought to trim them for him.

“I’m proud of you,” you said quietly. And you meant it. 

Though his words had stung, he’d done nothing but apologize for them. You’d had several conversations with him owning up to his mistakes and asking you those questions he hadn’t thought to before. You told him about Sam, about Blake and John and Meghan and Maggie—all of which got a little too close for comfort. Those were the ones who’d actually given you their names, had made it a point to introduce themselves before their hands wandered. Before they called you a slut and walked away.

He’d listened the entire time, nodding while trying to hide his frustration. You knew he’d do anything to avenge you—he said as much before you’d shushed him with kisses. Kisses that promised that he was forgiven. That you were thankful for his efforts. That you were starting to fall desperately in love with him.

There was just one other instance you hadn’t divulged yet. 

“Yeah?” he asked.

But that could come later. Much later.

You nodded. “Yeah.” Eddie let out a soft hum. “Get some sleep.”

For now, you focused on the way Eddie’s eyelids shut and the gentle smile on his lips loosen. For now, you focused on someone who you couldn’t quite admit was the most important person in your life.

As Eddie fell into his half-asleep daze, he could vaguely picture a certain kind of monster. One who slips into dreams, coating the edges of the scene with a fuzzy filter. Not Freddy Krueger, per se. One with a better grip on how to lure men to their deaths. Maybe like a siren, with jagged teeth and turquoise eyes that brought sailors to their knees along rocky shorelines and brutal seas. 

But what happens to a man when he is less than interested in their attempt at temptation?

Eddie, as steady as his breathing was, began to descend into some dream that felt like a memory inside an alternate reality—could the two coexist? Because there his van was, parked on a beach. The air was thick with salt, digging into his forearms like thousands of tiny push pins scraping along the first few layers of skin. He had enough sense to wait in the back of the vehicle. Waiting for what, he could hardly remember. Waiting for who, well…

The moment the recollection stirred, there was a pounding on the back doors. 

“Munson, come on!”

When he looked out the window, he saw Charlotte Stevens. She was a regular, scoring weed here and there when she ended up fighting with her aunt and uncle. He only knew because her parents died in a car wreck only a month after her senior year—Eddie’s second—began. He let her yap off to him about her problems whenever she came by. Some of his “clients” were chatty, growing quiet over time when Eddie told them to go see a different therapist and slammed the door on them. 

But it was Charlotte.

She was lonely. Heartbroken. Sure, she was part of the popular crowd, but he knew better after his few interactions with Chrissy Cunningham. A lot of those girls did what they had to in order to survive. It didn’t make them a villain. He really thought Charlotte was the same way. He cut her some slack, watching the light in her eyes wither and die. Saw how the school year thinned out her dirty blonde hair, living off of half-eaten salads in the cafeteria. 

After all, he was heading off to college soon without his close friends. Who didn’t need a near-stranger to lean on?

“You’re late,” he said as soon as the door swung open. 

He wasn’t prepared for the sunlight pouring in, eyes catching on the sight of pavement and grass. Were they no longer at the beach? Where were they?

And why did it feel so…familiar? Like that day behind The Hideout. It was where she usually met him, feeling too paranoid to do it literally anywhere else. He could vaguely see the rutty door to the bar behind her. His refuge. His escape.

Charlotte huffed, her white tank top clinging to her body while sweat dripped down to her cut-off jean shorts. “As if you have anything else going on.”

“Do you want your weed or not?” he snapped. 

“Geez, what’s gotten into you?” she asked as she sat opposite him. Eddie made sure their knees didn’t touch. 

He wasn’t one to make connections with these people. The less he knew, the better. Even with someone he took pity on. Because, believe it or not, tragedy never truly made someone nicer. He’d seen enough damage done to the redhead that lived across from him. After her brother died, she changed everything. And she was definitely no longer interested in casual conversations without an insult or two thrown in.

Needless to say, he knew when to leave well enough alone.

“Do you care?” he asked, already knowing the answer.

“Not really.”

Exactly.

“Okay, well, it’s fifty even,” he said absentmindedly, trying to locate his metal box. 

“Maybe I could pay a different way.”

Eddie’s eyebrows furrowed as he looked back up at her. Of course she’d try to cheat the system now. “Trust me, Stevens,” he said. “There’s nothing I need more than money right now.”

And when she put her hand over his, he realized just what she was proposing. 

“Are you sure about that?”

Eddie pulled his hand away. “Uh, yeah.”

“Come on, Eddie.”

Something evil twisted in his gut at the sound of her saying his name for the first time. 

“Hate to sound like a douche, but I’m not interested in you. So, yeah, nice try. I’ll take that fifty bucks. Now.”

She moved suddenly, quick to pounce as she threw her hands on either side of his head, caging him in. Like he hadn’t said a word. Like he was prey.

Charlotte was a siren; he was sure of it. Waiting for him to slip, to give in to some desire that was nothing but an unlikely daydream. Her breath fanned over his cheek, invading his nostrils with the scent of her spearmint. Those teeth, smacking gum as she promised that it would be worth his while. Pinning his hands to his sides as he suggested again that she just pay him and leave. But Charlotte couldn’t take no for an answer, straddling him instead.

“I’ve always wanted to see what the freak felt like.”

That’s when Eddie wondered: what if these sirens didn’t even have tails, had nothing to do with what lied undiscovered and unencumbered by the rules of mythology? What if that was what made them lethal?

“That’s fucking weird,” he replied through his teeth.

“You can’t tell me you’ve never wanted to fuck one of the popular girls. I saw you looking at Chrissy with googly eyes all year.”

He had. He didn’t feel ashamed of that. Back then, he didn’t feel ashamed of much at all. Especially when he was finally escaping this town. Who cared who he did and didn’t fawn over now that he was searching for new faces?

“And you think you’re Chrissy? That’s fucking hilarious, Stevens. Funniest goddamn thing I’ve ever heard,” he growled, fighting against her grasp again. Instead, she moved her hips against him, trying to get him hard. 

But it wasn’t working. Eddie was far from aroused. If anything, he felt like he was going to puke. Maybe if he conjured enough willpower, he’d be able to spew all over Charlotte and get her to leave him the fuck alone forever.

“No,” she whispered. “I’m better.” 

Just as her hands reached for his belt, there was a pounding against the van. It was so violent, so powerful that the car began to shake. Eddie could’ve sworn they were going to flip before the rumbling stopped and the back doors ripped off their hinges. 

Standing there, in a thin black dress littered with glitter and stars, was you. The ends of your nails were sharpened into charcoal claws, one hand wrapped around a bejeweled whip. A shiny crown sat atop your head, gleaming in the scorching sun.

He caught your stare, piercing him with the fierce fury that clouded your eyes. But you immediately looked at Charlotte, frozen on top of him.

“It’s not what it looks—” he choked, trying to catch his breath. But it was failing him. He was failing. 

But there you were, cracking the whip before shooting it forward, snaking around Charlotte’s throat and dragging her down to the bed of the van. Her forehead smacked against the metal box Eddie had been searching for. 

You let her cough, let her head bleed before curling your fingers into claws. 

“You better wake up, Eddie,” you said as you stalked forward. 

He watched in horror as you jumped on top of Charlotte, shoving your nails into her wrists to keep her right where you wanted her.

“Wake up,” you repeated.

Eddie jumped out of the van, barely catching a glimpse of you ripping into her throat before the light consumed him.

“Wake up!”

Eddie gasped for air, his eyes flying open to see your face above him, eyes alight with concern. 

“Woah, hey,” you whispered, hands coming to pull him back down into your grasp. He immediately relaxed, falling into your arms once more as you began stroking his hair. “Eddie, hey.”

“Fuck,” he said, trying to fight the tears welling in his eyes. “Fuck.”

His vision clouded, the blurry images of his dream flashing each time he blinked. He couldn’t shake what was really there, what really happened.

Because that wasn’t how it ended. 

There was no one to save him back then. No Gareth or Grant or Jeff. 

No you.

Dragging his hands down his face, Eddie wondered when the distorted voices would dissipate. They came in all crackled, like Charlotte’s voice over the intercom during homeroom. It echoed in his head every other night, locking him in his cage of beige cinder block. 

“Hey, you’re okay. It’s just me.”

But here you both were, in your prison cell. And instead of beige cinder blocks, it was decorated. Prints of famous paintings littered your walls, covering up most of the beige with genuine color and vibrancy. It was a museum of your own curation.

“Yeah, you’re right.”

And if it was decorated, then it wasn’t really a cell, was it? No, it was a home.

“Bad dream?”

And he liked the thought of home.

“The worst.”

With you.

“Wanna go on a walk? Sometimes it helps me to just, like, walk around campus.”

He’d give anything to have that forever.

“Sure,” he said. “Why not?”

Campus always felt different after negative experiences. College seemed to darken with something untoward. You started to notice the way your unhappiness contrasted those who walked along the same path with their friends. A pearl of laughter from a stranger on the phone with their mother. The brushing hands of a honeymooned couple. The sight of cackling men throwing a football on a grassy patch.

It could hide that girl hiding her head in the brick to suppress her sobs. The guy running across your path, breathlessly saying Sorry, excuse me as he races to his next class. A certain boy next to you who hadn’t spoken once since you left.

The sun had poked through the clouds, illuminating campus with vibrancy. But when you looked over at Eddie, he kept his head low, fiddling with his fingertips. 

He was more solemn than usual, seemingly deflated after the dream he’d had. All you wanted was to grab his hand, keep him from picking his nails or his skin. Remind him that it was just a dream. 

Instead, you kept walking. Kept whatever distance he was setting, letting him take the lead. You caught him sneaking a glance at you every once in a while, always returning his somber gaze with a smile.

He never smiled back.

You wound in and out of pavement and grass, looping around the library and the food hall before turning around and heading back. And as you rounded the last corner back to your dorm, Eddie finally spoke.

“How did you…get to be so confident?” Eddie asked.

His question caught you off guard, causing you to stop. 

Not only that, but his question caught on a spiral of barbed wire like cloth. The wire that you’d used to cage your insides from anyone and any thing unwanted. It tugged at something you’d been dreading to bring up with him. Especially after the other night. 

And just like that, you had to shred what was left of his poking.

“You know men,” you started with a fake smile, letting the mask consume you. “Can’t keep their hands to themselves. No means yes and all that. Nothing for you to worry about.”

You waved your hand around, turning away to keep walking but Eddie caught it, pulling you back to face him. 

“Hey, you don’t have to brush that off, you know. You didn’t deserve that.”

His eyes poured compassion into yours, breeding a kind of fear that you’d never experienced before. This exposure to your innermost hurt without even a scalpel. It caused you to wonder if it was even fear. The wire now scraped along your ribs, each stroke against the bone growing gnarlier than the last. 

And it was in that torture that you snapped. 

“Oh, I know,” you said with a strained chuckle. “You don’t have to act like you know anything about it, though.”

You could tell your harsh tone surprised him, his eyes widening with each word you threw out. But it didn’t stop him from his expression changing, eyebrows narrowing. Something fell over his features, a darkness you hadn’t encountered before. There was decay behind his stare, his gentle nature starting to crack.

“You don’t have to act like you’re the only one who’s gone through something like that.”

A huff left your nose as you jerked your hand away. “Yeah, one in six. I’m well acquainted with my gender’s statistics.”

“At least you have a number,” Eddie fired back before looking at his feet. “At least…at least you don’t drive yourself crazy going back and forth from one in six to one in thirty-three.”

And then it clicked.

Are you using me?

Like, if we even fuck, is that it?

Will the chase be over for you?

“Eddie?” you asked, like the question you wanted to ask had already been spoken. “You’ve…you’ve…”

“Um. Yeah. Some girls aren’t as willing to ask permission as you are.”

And it was in that moment that you both realized how trauma had different effects on different people. Still mirrors, only with different colors reflecting off of your shattered edges. Yours came out all fiery red, all flames and guns blazing. His was something more somber, a devastating blue that desperately hid in the background.

“When…”

“Last summer.”

“Did you tell anyone?”

His furrowed eyebrows softened, eyes turned glassy as he asked, “Did you?”

You were at a loss of words. How could you even begin to think of what to say when all you could picture was the worst. Eddie, suffocating at the hands of a girl. Unable to escape, unable to run. Just like you had.

But Eddie never donned a mask. He’d never truly hidden himself away, not really when you were the one begging him to come out of his shell. And he was always out there, still taking chances on himself. Even when he slipped up, he still found ways to try again.

Could you say the same for yourself?

 “Eddie,” you started, closing your eyes to make it easier. “you are so much more than what happened to you. And because no one gives a shit to say this to men, I’m sorry. I’m sorry that you went through something like that. Especially when all of your friends were gone. When I got r—” You stopped yourself, unable to even utter the word. “When that happened to me, I ran into Aron for the first time and she helped clean me up and… Well, I guess what I’m trying to say is you should’ve had someone be there for you. And I wish that person had been me.”

Eddie whispered your name, shaking his head as the tears spilled over. It was a broken kind of sound, like he was pleading for help. Pleading for reassurance, pleading to forget.

“Come here,” you whispered, feeling choked up yourself.

That’s when he fell into you, tightly winding his arms around your waist and burying his head into your neck. You felt the sudden release of tears and snot, the release of something buried down inside him coming to the surface.

 You didn’t know what to do, didn’t know what to say. But you went back to that September night, feeling Aron’s arms cage you in as if she could hide you from the monsters that walked amongst you. So you gave that to Eddie. Your hand came up to press his head further in, obstructing any light from either side of you. An obsidian of solitude for him, your fingers weaving into his hair. Scratching down his scalp until you felt him shiver, felt his locked up posture fall into something resembling ease.

“You’re okay,” you cooed. “I’m here now. I promise.”

Another strained cry erupted from him, louder this time. You tried to suppress your own tears, but there was no use. You could still be strong for him and share his sorrow.

“Do you want to tell me about it?” you asked.

He leaned back a fraction, puffy eyes meeting yours. You watched him hiccup, trying desperately to take a deep breath. Moving with him, you exaggerated your breath to help him move with you. His stare continued to pierce through you, indecision falling over his features before something seemed to click. 

And with his first successful steady breath, he finally spoke.             

“Please.”

If you are a victim of sexual assault, I hope you know that you can love again and that it will get better with time. I'm rooting for you. You don't have to be afraid. And you do not have to shut yourself off from letting love in.

I know I keep popping in and out to post things so thank you for continuing to read if you're still here. I've spent months wanting to post this chapter, but there was a lot of shit going on in my personal life — but I had to return to give y’all this.

[agalychnisspranneusroseus]

I hear the Marcy angst is very heavy in RiA so i'm gonna list some nice things that happen to her in this AU

Meeting her girls! Anne became her first friend when she visited Newtopia for the first time around age 6 and they've been penpals ever since! Marcy isn't allowed to leave Newtopia but Anne manages to visit every two or three years. She has to keep it all secret from her father, which causes her some pretty nerve wrecking anxiety because she's not allowed to keep secrets, but Lady Olivia always helps her deliver her letters in secret.

Meeting Sasha was a bit more chaotic but perhaps even more romantic. It happened shortly after the beginning of the war, though Marcy had no idea there was a war at all. All she knew was that she had a terrible fight with her father, and then she saw two beautiful, giant herons perched on the towers of the palace. The heavy rain and thunder, and the darkness of night, masked their presence. They were tame - she could tell from the saddles they sported, so in a moment of desperation, she climbed onto one, and when their owner showed up and took the other, she guided them away from Newtopia, into the stormy night. Sasha had traveled all the way there from Frog Valley to release some important toad prisoners, not realizing she was accidentally taking one of her own. She could barely see in the rain and darkness, only realizing she wasn't alone when she reached Toad Tower and a small human girl, probably her age, fell from the other heron's saddle and nearly crashed into the ground - if it weren't for Sasha to catch her. This was bad. Really really bad. She didn't have the forces or resources to resist a direct attack from Newtopia, which would surely be coming when they realized the princess was missing. As much as she'd love to take this oportunity to use her as a hostage, they were in terrible conditions to play that card. She tells her she'll return her as soon as the rain subsides, and in the meantime she plays nice - if she princess didn't know they were at war, well, there was no reason to scare her. She easily earns her trust and tries to get information from her, but she seems too distracted by the fact that Sasha is, well, like her. She calls it "having the same condition". Sasha thinks it's best not to confuse her by telling her their species is called "human". Interrogating her is hard - the princess seems to be the one asking all the questions, and... okay, Sasha had to admit she was adorable. She almost misses her when she's gone.

Getting Joe Sparrow! A gift from Sasha - he arrived to her balcony one night with a note attached to his saddle, telling her to keep him secret from her father. It felt bad to keep secrets, but her late night flights away from Newtopia made her forget everything else.

Exploring the palace's secret corridors with Lady Olivia! Much like her, Olivia grew up in the palace and knew all the little corners to hide and secret rooms to explore. She really likes Lady Olivia. She never feels anxious with her.

Playing flipwart with her dad! It wasn't all bad. Her childhood had happy days too. She had a lot of happy memories with her father. He was nice most of the times.

He put her in that chair when she slept and plugged her to the machine. She has a strange cable port in the back of her neck. He read through her journal. He told her a father's love was the greatest thing there was , and that no one would love her as much as he did. Years later, she thinks he was right. She doesn't think anyone but him could experience love in that way.

The first time Anne saw her with short hair. She'd cut it all a few days back and she was still feeling self-conscious of it, but Anne's face lit up when she saw her, and she tangled her fingers in her black strands and ruffled them and found them so soft and adorable that she couldn't keep her hands off of them. Anne's eyes on her always made her feel special. Her hands, too. Marcy loved to be touched, especially by Anne. She hoped her love of touch never came across as weird, but the feeling of warm, dry skin against hers sends sparks of happiness all through her body.

She disappeared one day without warning. She took with her the box. She knew she'd fought with her family the day before, but she'd thought... she'd thought she'd come to her and Sasha before leaving all of a sudden. She thought she'd talk to them if something bothered her. But she left. Gone without a trace

Sasha teaching her to fight! She preferred crossbows over swords, and Sasha could work with that. She helped her position her body the right way to shoot, sending shivers down her spine. She decided that day that she loved Sasha's touch too. Anne and Sasha's touch had a special effect on her. It was always comfortable. While her father's touch always made her feel uneasy, like she was hugging a stranger, her girls' hands on her arms, shoulders, her chest... they always made her feel so grounded and warm and safe.

She's sure Sasha will never again feel safe under Marcy's touch after what she did to her. Her hands will forever he stained with her blood now, and no amount of "it wasn't you" or "you didn't want to do it" takes the horror away.

Learning Anne and Sasha were in love. After so many years of... well, trying to kill each other, Marcy was always terrified of having to choose between them, but almost as if by miracle, she came together to save her, and seemed to have bonded quite a bit in the process.

It was Anne who brought up the idea. She was worried Marcy would be intimidated by it, as polygamy tends to have unfortunate implications, but she and Sasha hated pretending they didn't love each other in front of Marcy, hated keeping it a secret, hated that Marcy thought she was the only one in their hearts. It felt like betrayal. So... they shyly told her, and to their relief, she was... so, so happy. She hugged them both super tight, and when Anne suggested that they gave the relationship a try, they happily accepted. No more secrets. No more shame, or fear, or distrust, just the three of them and their unconditional love.

Her wedding wad one of the happiest days of her life. She was sixteen, and so were her brides. It was certainly an unusual marriage, but as queen, she could take two consorts if she pleased. Anne's family was there, as well as Sasha's adoptive parents, Percy and Braddock. Lady Olivia was there too. She never thought the day would come. She never thought she'd be allowed to marry, and never in her wildest dreams did she dare to hope she'd get to have both of her loves. Yet here they were, in front of her, about to bond their lives to hers forever. 'Til death do them apart.

[g0ry0re0]

"Valentine", Mike Schmidt (Five Nights At Freddy's, 2023, Film) - Imagine

Description: You and Mike take the day off for Valentine's Day, spending quality time with one another. / Mike Schmidt x GN!Reader

General Notes: Established Relationship (reader lives with Mike and Abby), Gender Neutral Reader (no use of Y/N), Pure Fluff, Second Person POV, Takes Place After The Film's Events (no mention of movie plot, mostly just mentioned for the character and relationship development), Set In The Movie Year (2000), Brief Scene With Abby In The Beginning, Lots Of Physical Touch

Author's Note: The song choice is soooo not original lol, but I love Laufey and had to do something really cute for Valentine's Day (song is linked at the bottom of the post). This was also heavily inspired by a tweet from @/whycraves on twitter (screenshot at bottom of post). Also, my best friend, @anal-spaghetti-monster (I'm sorry lol) helped me choose the gif for Mike! Enjoy!

Disclaimer: The morning before posting this, I read @sleepyhutcherson's Mike Schmidt Valentine's Day prompt and noticed a lot of similarities. I just want to throw it out there that this is purely a coincidence and that I reached out to her to confirm that posting this was still okay. Besides that, check out her work as well, as she did an amazing job with a similar prompt!

Word Count: 1,693 Words

"Alright, Abbs, you got everything?" Mike turns around in the car seat to face her.

Your car is temporarily parked by the elementary school curb with a handful of others, you're sitting in the driver's seat and looking back and forth between your boyfriend and his younger sister. This was one of the rare days you and Mike could drop her off at school together, as you had both taken the day off work. The three of you spent an easy-going morning together, not as hectic as it usually is when trying to get ready as fast as possible for work and school. Mike in particular had woken up early and made a small breakfast for you and Abby. He woke you up with coffee and Abby with the promise of bacon, causing you both to rise quickly out of your beds and immediately join him in the kitchen. The time was spent enjoying each other's company and getting ready leisurely before heading out the door.

Abby rolls her eyes playfully and smiles. "Yes, Mike."

You smile as well and add, "Sounds like something you should've asked before we even got in the car. Definitely not when we're already at school."

It's Mike's turn to roll his eyes, but he quickly looks back at Abby.

"And you have your...love- heart candy letter things for your friends?"

"They're Valentine's Day cards, Mike! And, yes," she shakes a pink and red decorated, emptied-out, tissue box filled with cards and candy. "I have them right here."

Before Mike can even think about a response, Abby opens the car door excitedly and jumps out, shouting her goodbyes while running to the school entrance. Mike tries to yell something out the window about staying safe and paying attention to her teacher, but Abby is inside before he can try. You laugh while putting the car in drive and pulling out of the parking lot, Mike still flustered and slightly worried.

"She- she didn't even...I didn't get to-" Mike stutters out, speechless.

"Mike," You laugh again. "She's excited about Valentine's Day and seeing her friends. Can you blame her?" You glance at him, smiling before turning back to the road and continuing your short drive home.

Mike grumbles unintelligibly and looks out the window, but still grabs your free hand that's set on the center console and squeezes it lightly.

Getting out of the car causes a harsh chill to run through your body pulling your jacket around the front of your torso while closing the car door. Mike pulls out his keys and quickly opens up the front door, both out of anticipation for your day together and to get you both out of the cold as soon as possible. You rush in side by side, slightly stumbling and sighing as the warmth of your shared home dethaws your frozen bodies. Mike locks the door and watches you fondly as you remove your scarf, your gloves, your coat, and finally your shoes, leaving them by the front door. Not going unnoticed by you, you smirk while walking towards the living room.

"You're staring again, lover boy." You comment teasingly, walking around the couch and plopping down.

Mike blushes, a little embarrassed, but smiling at the nickname. He removes his excess layers as well, following you to the couch shortly after. He sits directly beside you and wraps one arm around your shoulders, the other snaking around your front, then burying his face into your neck.

A muffled, "I can't help it," vibrates against your neck while Mike rubs his thumb along your hip.

You lean into Mike's embrace, laughing a bit at his breath tickling your neck. He pulls you closer and starts peppering kisses along your neck, the act of affection making you giggle as you lightly try to push him away playfully.

"Mike, come on." You whine, weakly pushing at his face this time, trying to turn him away.

"What? I can't kiss you, my love?" He speaks against your throat again, his smile causing his stubble to scratch your skin a little bit.

You resign, defeatedly leaving your hands to rest on his chest and sighing out of fake annoyance. He leaves quick, gentle kisses along your neck, collarbone, shoulder, and trails up your jaw. Getting closer to your lips, he brings his hand up from your waist to cup your cheek, He finally presses his lips against yours sweetly, the most innocent of kisses, Mike's signature. He was pouring every ounce of his love into this one kiss, taking his time, lips moving slowly against yours. His thumb now softly grazes your cheek as he pulls away a few minutes later. He's got kind of a shy look on his face when you open your eyes.

"I got you something...for today." He whispers, glancing up from your lips to make eye contact.

"You did?" You inquire back, looking up affectionately, but feeling a slight twinge of guilt. "You didn't have to do that."

Mike gives you one final peck on the lips before pulling away. He stands up, grinning.

"Gimme one sec- " He says right before turning and walking down the hallway to your shared room.

You both had anticipated spending the day together, but you didn't expect any gifts. You loved Mike to death, but sometimes you never knew what to expect from him. All that really mattered to you was spending time together, which you didn't get to do often despite living together. If you were lucky, you got to spend time with both the Schmidt siblings, like this morning. Today was about you and Mike, though, and all you wanted to do was cuddle and talk each other's ears off until you couldn't think of anything else to say. Lost in thought, you barely notice as Mike walks back to you, holding a small object. He sits back down next to you, bringing your attention back to him. His body facing you, he smiles nervously and rubs his hand on the back of his neck.

"It's not much, but..." He trails off, holding out the item and presenting it to you.

You look down and your heart melts. In his hand is a cassette tape with your name scrawled on the front. You beam up at him while grabbing the tape, and then you look at your name written in the center. You can tell Mike put a lot of effort into printing your name as nicely as his hands allowed him to, noticing also the miscellaneous tiny, slightly sloppy, hearts surrounding it. You hold the cassette to your chest and look back up at him.

"Michael Schmidt, did you make me a mixtape?" You ask playfully.

He loved hearing you say his name. You can see a light blush spread across his face as he smiles shyly, his hand still anxiously messing with the back of his neck.

"Yeah, I tried- well, it's got, like, songs that remind me of you and stuff. Songs that remind me of us," he stammers, bashfully looking down at the tape. "Do you like it?"

He looks back up at you hopefully, using his other hand to nervously pull at the bottom of his shirt. You smirk and stand up, still clutching the cassette to your chest.

"Well, let's see..." You trail off, teasingly, walking across the living room to the cassette deck near the entertainment center.

A familiar song begins to play and you smile softly now. You turn towards Mike and walk back to the couch, standing over him. He looks up at you quizzically before you reach your hand out to him.

"Wanna dance?"

He looks slightly relieved and grabs your hand, standing up and pulling you to the center of the room. One pair of hands intertwined, his other on your waist, your other on his shoulder. You stare at one another lovingly, almost sickeningly sweet the moment being shared. The tempo of the song didn't matter, you both slowly swayed back and forth, taking in the tranquility of the scene. You squeeze his hand and he squeezes back, rubbing his thumb over yours.

"No one's ever made me a mixtape before," you comment distractedly, most of your focus being on Mike's puppy dog eyes that you loved so dearly. "it's definitely worth however much time you spent on it. When did you get a chance to do this anyway?"

A lopsided smile appears on his face.

"A little too much time," he laughs a little. "And I put it together while you were sleeping the other night. Though, most of the time I spent was thinking of songs to put on it. That took me a few weeks."

You move the hand that was resting on his shoulder up to cup his cheek. Mike leans into your touch and closes his eyes, humming in contentment. You lean forward and capture his lips in a quick kiss, his eyes fluttering in pleasant surprise, kissing you back. You pull away, using the hand holding his face as leverage to start peppering kisses all over his face. You go from the corner of his lips, to his stubbled cheeks, his forehead, his nose, his chin, and finally back to his lips. He smirks knowingly and opens his eyes to look at you.

"What are you doing, love?"

"Paying you back for earlier," you smirk back at him, pinching his cheek before resuming your hand's previous position. "And for the amazing Valentine's Day gift."

You take both of your hands now and place them on the sides of his face. His eyebrows furrow but he's still smiling, both of his hands now placed on your hips to keep you both balanced. You start placing soft, quick smooches everywhere now. Rapidly placing kisses all over his face, causing you both to laugh, smiling against his skin. Your laughter in unison with the music playing sounds like heaven to Mike, knowing that moments like these are rare. Though treasuring the moment, both of you feel tenderness in knowing more memories like these will happen as your merged existences face what everyone craves more of, time.

Masterlist Link

Divider: saradika and saradika-graphics on tumblr

Gif: charlie-eppes-blog on tumblr

[ohthewh0rror]

THEO NOTT: DATING HEADCANONS

A/N: Theo is practically irrelevant to the HP series and almost entirely fan made, so this is just how I characterize him. Anyway, here’s my second favorite boy (right behind Tom).

His reputation doesn’t mean as much to him as other pure-bloods and Slytherins, so you being in a different house or being a half-blood/muggleborn isn’t going to deter him from wanting to be with you.

Will not introduce you to his father if he has any say in it, ESPECIALLY if you’re anything other than a pure-blood.

Might be hesitant to introduce you to his friends because if they offend you he will not hesitate to confront them about it, but would rather not get into a fight with his friends if he can help it.

Would 110% fight another witch/wizard over you. Typically just hexes them, but if another wizard takes it too far he’s more than willingly to fight the muggle way.

Controversial: doesn’t smoke that often, only once a day after classes end, but always invites you. He likes to hear you talk about your day, doesn’t matter how “boring” you thought it was.

Lover boy through and through. You are this man’s everything.

You once mentioned that your father used to write your mom love letters and how sweet you thought it was. So for the next 2 weeks Theo gave you little love notes throughout the day everyday.

He’s on the quiet side, so you’re the one carrying the conversation usually, but does chime in to make sure you know he’s actually listening.

Doesn’t come from a loving family, so will greedily eat up any kind touch/word you give to him.

Absolutely melts if you make/buy him any type of jewelry. He has so much money and could afford the most expensive jewelry the wizarding world has to offer, but would choose the cheap beaded bracelet you made him instead any day.

The type to do self-care with you. Face mask? Cool. Manicures? He already has a color picked out. Need help with your hair? Just tell him what to do.

Like everyone he is still human and does have negative traits.

Theo knows he is witty and has a sharp tongue when provoked and he doesn’t want to hurt your feelings. So he’d rather you be angry that he’s not taking the conversation about how you feel seriously than hurt your feelings.

Theo wishes he could say he trust you completely, but his upbringing has left him with trust issues. There’s always a little voice in the back of his mind saying you’re going to fuck him over or leave him one day.

Tries his best not to listen to it. But can’t help but read into your every move, so if he gets suspicious of you that’s when the petty side of him comes out.

It pretty much consists of him accusing you and bringing up things you’re insecure about / struggling with.

Only stops if you walk away or as soon as he sees your tears.

Will apologize, but his apologies are a little on the awkward side, so they feel insincere.

Controversial (again): not kinky in bed, he’s actually fairly vanilla. The kinkiest thing this man does is fuck you from the back. Is willing to experiment though if you really want him to.

Uses typical pet names on you: babe/baby/love. But if he’s looking to tease you he calls you ‘princess’.

Father/Marriage bonus:

GIRL DAD!!! GIRL DAD ALERT!!!

Almost threw up when he first held her because of adrenaline and fear of accidentally dropping her.

Is pretty hands on, helps in any way he can when he’s not working.

Spoils his daughter to hell and back. No one tells his little girl ‘no’.

Married you a few years after your daughter is born. You two had been together since your years at Hogwarts, but the both of you wanted to take it slow as you were both still young. When you got pregnant it was honestly an accident, and once the baby was born you were so wrapped up in being new parents that marriage wasn’t crossing either of your minds.

[midnightscramble]

So, here’s my idea if you plan to make an part 2 for the Violet fic: Violet will try to get closer to the maid because of what she was felling but with the excuse she just wants to be friends to the maid and then get this felling away but end up going wrong and the felling just get strong.

It's just an idea that popped into my head, so if you want to add something I'd love it!!, your writing is really good, so I'm sure it will be good

Good luck, Maid! Part 2 (Violet Bridgerton x fem!Reader)

Part 1, Part 2, Part 3, Part 4, Part 5

The Masterlist

Author’s Note: thanks for the kind words! If it is not to your liking try requesting something else (don’t be shy!) Happy readings to you.

Summary: After an unexpected encounter, Violet and Miss Y/n grow closer and new feelings emerge in Violet.

Warnings: slight internalized homophobia, very tame period typical homophobia, jealousy, somewhat salacious thoughts/daydreams on Violet's end, no Beta read

Violet woke from a restless sleep. She turned to her side, flinging her hair out of her face. Moonlight filtered through the curtains, reflecting off the white sheets and illuminating the space around her, particularly the side of the bed Edmund used to occupy. Reaching her hand out she smoothed the cool sheet. Similar to dirt on the forest floor churning as spring arrives, the mattress that once so vividly held his imprint now rose to meet her fingertips. 

By the height of the moon she assessed that there would be three hours before the sun emerged. She shut her eyes in hopes of returning to sleep. With no such luck, she gathered the edge of her nightgown and gingerly got out of bed. Perhaps a cup of tea could settle her. 

Knowing it was considered improper, she silently made her way through the halls and down to the kitchen. The knotty pine door was left ajar giving her pause. She stood frozen, peering through the cracks when suddenly the door opened, leaving her face to face with Miss Y/n. The younger woman shrieked before she could register who it was. Once she had, her hand flew up and clasped over her mouth in silent apology.

Whispering, Y/n took a step forward leaving them no more than a foot apart, “Lady Violet, is something the matter?” 

Partially stunned into silence by their proximity, Violet stuttered “uh yes, I just came for tea. I am having trouble settling for the night.” Her nose twitched with unexpressed energy, feeling glued to the floor but wanting nothing more than to sprint back to the confines of her bedroom. 

“Allow me to take care of that…will Chamomile do?” Violet nodded dumbly in response and followed Y/n back into the kitchen. Violet reasoned that by agreeing to this impromptu late night company, she could get to know the other woman in a friendly manner.

As Y/n put the pot on, Violet awkwardly stood beside the kitchen table watching the silhouette of the woman. The nightgown she wore was simple, conservative even, but the way it tightened around her hips and pulled at her chest made Violet’s cheeks heat. Her hands felt restless, an urge to reach out and touch the other woman washed over her. For such a simple nightgown, it was causing complex feelings to arise in her. Feelings that were provocatively, decidedly so, not of a "friendly" nature.

Violet’s gawking was interrupted as Y/n turned to face her, and she flinched at being caught. Not revealing anything, Y/n moved the pot off of the fire and grabbed a cup. She had noticed Lady Violet’s staring earlier in the evening as she got her ready for the Kent’s ball, but had chalked it up to the newness of her company. However, upon this development, unfamiliarity would be a mislabel.

She had known the company of the other woman before, in fact the young maid found herself working for the Bridgerton family after being caught with the wife of her previous employer. To not draw attention to the situation, the Lord of the house released her from service with a graceful letter of recommendation, however made it very clear that if she were to be seen publicly with the Lady of the house, such grace and tolerance would not be repeated. 

Anxiety peaked within Y/n as she tried to avert her eyes from the not quite shear cotton nightgown that adorned Violet, “if I may ask, why does sleep evade you tonight?” Moving the tea to the table, she motioned for Violet to sit with her.

Not realizing she was biting the inside of her cheek, Violet released the chewy flesh and took a seat, “Sleep has been evading me as of late. It seems that once I’ve gotten comfortable, uncomfortable dreams wake me.” She looked down at her fingers, trying to remember the hazy details of tonight’s latest installment. 

“I’m sorry to hear that, and there is no cure for this?” She looked at her with sympathy, she too endured sleepless nights, although her’s were mostly from paranoia. Y/n rested her hands flat on the table, trying to soak in the coolness.

“Is there a cure for loneliness?” Violet wondered out loud.

Pausing, Y/n examined Violet’s face, the way her eyelashes fluttered as her eyes darted across the scratches on the table. She must have taken too long to respond as Violet’s eyes shot up to hers, searching for validation. The pair stared at each other in the faint darkness, acutely aware of the dense air forming between them, making it near impossible to breath. The safety of stolen glances was long gone, neither could gather the courage to look away, neither wanted to. Violet's eyes darkened as she envisioned Y/n hovering over her, holding eye contact as the young woman’s hands parted her legs. Her mouth opened slightly as if it were actually happening. Drawn back to reality, she closed it, but she couldn't shake the thoughts.

Violet’s tongue felt heavy, and she feared she would choke on whatever words left her mouth next. Luckily, Y/n beat her to the punch, “I’ve been looking all my life…  I had found it once, but it was only temporary.”

Abandoning all formalities, Violet moved her hand to clasp Y/n’s. The selfish need to feel the touch of her skin overtook her. “I’m sorry to hear that, was he umm.. a good man?” Questions raced through her mind; had Y/n been left penniless, spoiled and then abandoned, had she been ruined?

“I-I think so, but… he… was far above me. No one cares what commoners do with each other, however it would have been the talk of Ton if anyone had found out” Violet’s grip on Y/n’s hand tightened, somewhat in protectiveness and somewhat in jealousy. To think that someone in her social circle had taken advantage of Y/n and then thrown her away enraged her for more than one reason. 

Y/n cleared her throat, “would you like me to escort you back to your room?” Retracting her hand, Y/n intentionally broke the intimate moment. There was a possibility that if Violet knew the truth of what had occurred she wouldn’t dare touch her. Violet nodded and they walked in silence down the halls and up the stairs. 

Violet’s eyes searched the empty halls as she tried to gather her thoughts. She didn't want this time with the other woman to end, especially when she was just starting to understand Y/n... and what she wanted from her.

Y/n on the other hand was nervously looking over her shoulder after each corridor. Although most would not bat and eye at the Lady of the house needing assistance, the compromising state of dress they were in could fuel destructive rumors.

When they reached her door, Violet paused before entering "If I were to have another sleepless night and ventured to the kitchen, would I happen to run into you?" She tried to contain the hope in her voice to not appear pushy or eager.

Swallowing, Y/n struggled to find an appropriate response, "Perhaps, my Lady."

...

Once she was alone in her room, Violet’s jaw was clenched and her eyes stung with unshed tears. Although the subtle rejection had wounded her, she knew the girl was only trying to protect herself. She felt bile rise in her throat, who had made Y/n so guarded?

Once it was an appropriate hour, she planned to call upon Lady Danbury, who was bound to know what company Y/n kept prior. The search for who had dishonored Miss Y/n was about to begin.

[elexaria]

it was hard for simon to grieve when johnny died. price turned an eye when they got back to base and the first thing simon did was go and lay in johnny’s cot, curled up into a ball. they were close, they were best friends.

he feels a pang of guilt at johnny’s funeral, the sound of bagpipes overwhelming his already heightened senses. one of the mactavish sisters stops in her tracks and makes her way over to simon, who’s stood smoking by the floral donations. “i’m sorry for yer loss, ghost.” she whispers out to him, teary eyed and sniffly. he blinks down at her, albeit slightly confused. “pretty sure i’m the one supposed to be sayin’ that to you.” he replies with a dry writ, clearing his throat as he nods down at her. she lets out a quiet laugh, albeit a saddened one. it’s a brief interaction on an unfortunate occasion, but it lets simon come to realise something— johnny loved him.

simon’s not one for wakes, but he’s not one to pass up a good buffet. yet, for some reason, he finds himself awkwardly stood in the corner of the room, his weary eyes watching everyone converse. johnny’s mom, eileen, makes her way over to simon— and it’s crazy how much johnny looked like his mam, same smile, same deep blue eyes that simon became rather fond of.

“my john even got his beard from me,” eileen jokes, laughing her head off as she rubs her peach fuzz. it makes simon’s lips twitch, a chuckle rumbling in his throat. the chuckles dissipate, when ms mactavish reaches out to stroke simon’s cheek. simon riley’s not one for showing his face, but he wanted to do this for him. at first, simon has to fight against every muscle that wants to recoil out of her touch, to scuttle away further into the corner he finds himself stood in. but instead, his nostrils flare as he peers down at the little scottish lady that’s affectionately rubbing his cheek, and it’s almost as if johnny’s still there. “he loved ye, simon. i wish we could’ae met ye when our john was still around.”

simon can’t bear to watch as johnny’s room is packed up, he feels sick to the stomach. it makes everything worse, seeing him being physically scrubbed from base, from the only resemblance of a home simon’s ever had. laswell leaves a small box outside of his quarters, giving him a curt nod as she lets him pick it up and bring it into his room. it brings a smile to his face, just for a moment, as he cradles the cardboard box in his arms— a threadbare scottish flag johnny had pinned up on his wall, some of his old action figures he had kept from childhood, a few sketchbooks. and a note.

his stomach knots up at the sight of the letter, shakily placing it besides him as he flips through the sketchbooks first, the pads of his calloused fingers stroking fondly over every graphite smudge and ink blot on the pages. finding himself laughing hysterically over johnny’s drawing of price’s dick tickler moustache, and he nods in agreement that it should, indeed, be neutralized. the little scribbles of football scores, shitty and dirty limericks and even coffee cup rings on the pages just… it makes simon feel like he’s inside johnny’s mind, and it feels homely.

simon’s heart aches when he comes across the sketches of himself in johnny’s sketchbook, eyes welling up as he fights back the onslaught of tears that threaten to patter down onto the precious pages below. they were so beautiful. they made ghost, a husk of a man, look… alive. and he begins to breathe heavier, seeing small love hearts and silly cartoon drawings of johnny and simon doing stupid shit— like the time johnny and simon came up with a wager that if neither of them settled down come their mid-30s, they’d move to the countryside and get a dog or two.

why the fuck did you have to go and die for, johnny?

the sketchbook tour comes to its conclusion, the final sketchbook only half way through before, well, the artist passed. and so, the letter sits, almost as if there’s a spotlight casting down on it — screaming out to be read. it really gets on simon’s nerves how his hands will not stop shaking, but he pulls through and begins to open up the envelope that reads ‘for ghosty and ghosty only’, the underside of the envelope reading ‘i mean it!!’ with an angry face. it makes simon’s stoic expression crack into a grin, rolling his eyes as he continues to open it up.

the letter reads:

“well pal, if you’re reading this, it means i’m dead as fuuuck. oh well, it’s something we have to accept in our line of work, innit?

maybe i’ll get really lucky, you won’t have to read this letter and we can just laugh about it when we’re retired, living our best lives in the countryside with our wee dugs. cos you know you’ll never settle down, monsi, i’m the only bastard out there who can handle you!!!

but … on the odd chance i’m wrong (which is rarely the case cos i’m handsome and smart), it was great knowing you. you’re the bestest friend a mug like me could ask for, and i’m glad we found each other. gay, i know. whatever. i fucking love ya, pal. always and forever. dickface!!!

in another lifetime, maybe we can find each other again. although, don’t know if i can handle you being a brit again in this alternate universe haha. i don’t love you that much!!!

all my love,

yer johnny xx”

an emotional chuckle escapes from simon’s lips, tear stained cheeks flushing a light crimson colour as he sharply inhales, eyes shutting tightly as he holds the note to his chest. and for the first time, in a very long time, simon allows himself to cry. heaving his chest, snotty nosed as he really sobs it all out.

his entire life, he’s been beaten down, abused, witnessed family (both blood and found) being killed. but losing his best friend no, his soulmate, is the very thing that breaks his heart the most.

maybe, in another universe, johnny missed that bullet. and right now, in that universe, johnny and simon allow themselves a moment to breathe, comfortable in each other’s presence.

in another universe.

[curiouspupsicle]

Good Omens Fan Fiction Friday (4/4/25) - Epistolary

As someone who regularly writes letters and post cards (who doesn't like getting real mail?) I'm very drawn to letters in fics.

It's a fascinating device, giving the writer a chance for a character to speak uninterrupted without worrying about the in-real-time reaction of the person they're writing to. And it's an interesting writing challenge to imagine how a character would write.

Also, I'm writing a fic in which Aziraphale writes a letter to Crowley the day before heading off to sea--it's a topic fresh in my mind. Here are a few of the many epistolary Good Omens fan fics I love (I'm not including diary entries, emails, or text messages in this category).

Hope Was a Letter I Never Could Send (M) by @voluptatiscausa is a third part to the O, Maker series of stories about Aziraphale and Crowley's meetings through the ages. In Hope, we see 5 letters Crowley wrote but never sent to Aziraphale over those times, concluding with one written during the body swap. It's beautiful on its own. But I loved O, Maker and suggest you read it if you haven't.

In Sweet Nectar of the Eldritch Gods (G) by @scullyphile, Azira writes to the purveyor of her favorite honey. The writer creates a beautiful voice for our lovely Azira in this f/f human au. I'd read a whole book of letters written by Azira.

Here's a WIP I find fascinating: Forget me not (T) by kuri_risu. Aziraphale lives in the country. Crowley lives in the city. And every few days, they wake up in each other's bodies. Once they figure out what's happening to them, they start leaving notes for each other to help them cope. The fic is about half completed and the writer promises more chapter soon. It's based on a Japanese film I'd love to see.

After Aziraphale returns to heaven to become Supreme Archangel, Crowley writes a series of letters that he never intends to send in the aptly named A Selection of Unsent Letters from a Demon (T) by heretic1103. It's such a creative look at Crowley's grief and growth during that time. And yes, it has a happy ending.

Postcards from Paris (T) by ghostrat/@mrghostrat is a fond favorite and the first human AU I ever read. I return to it frequently because it's so charming. Crowley is intrigued by a postcard he receives from Aziraphale on a book-buying trip in Europe. He reluctantly writes back to tell Aziraphale that the friend he's writing to no longer lives at that address. But the two strike up a postcard correspondence of their own. If you're one of the few GO fans who hasn't read this yet, what are you waiting for?

Aziraphale and Crowley exchange letters through the ages using feathers from each other's wings in Hope is the Thing With Feathers (M) by @gefionne. This is a fandom classic so if you haven't read it, you really should. For me, combining a Through the Ages story with letters is perfect.

Aziraphale shows up for his Christmas Eve booty call with his old friend Crowley in The Road Not Taken (Leads to Home) (T) by GaryOldman. He leaves with something he wasn't expecting. This fic has only one letter. But it's a life changer. And for us, a lovely bit o'fluff. The Kids are Alright (T) by @azeutreciathewicked is the only fic on this list that is all written in letter form. When Aziraphale finally finds time to write to Crowley, the response is not what he expects. I've recommended it before in another category. I won't tell you which one, however, so you get a fun surprise.

In Promise (T) by AppleSeeds, Aziraphale returns to his family home to help his elderly parents prepare for Christmas. While there, he gets a letter from his childhood friend, Crowley. The pair had promised to write to stay in touch after leaving for school. But Crowley's letter reveals a long-kept secret. It starts with angst but ends as happily as you could ever wish.

@zehwulf's The Exchange (T) Crowley asks the telephone operator in the early 20th century to connect him with an expert in prophecies. Thus begins decades of phone calls between the demon Crowley and "human" bookseller Aziraphale Fell. Eventually, Crowley starts writing to his angelic counterpart on earth who he's never met. Delightful shenanigans ensue.

And finally, Indelible (T) by Z A Dusk/@snakeandmoon with illustrations by sammininoofthelord is another Through the Ages story told through the angel's and demon's correspondence. Only the first section is narrative. The rest is told in letters and emails exploring the development of The Arrangement and the ineffable pair's romantic relationship. It's a fun walk through history with our favorite pair.

I'll be back next Friday with more Good Omens fan fic recs based on a theme. Reblog and follow so you don't miss out.

Don't forget to check out previously recommended fics on my pinned post of weekly Good Omens fan fiction recommendations as well as select WIPs.