#sisters of mine chapter 1

[writingforfun0714]

Hi everyone, I recently had a birthday so I haven’t had the time to post.

I wanna post my first Arcane multi-chapter fic.

This is an Arcane reader insert (female child reader) and is basically the youngest sister to Powder and Vi. I want this to be multi-chapter and follow the episodes of the show.

Warnings—spoilers for Arcane, Reader Insert—Female Child Reader, AU (I think), parental death, POV changes, Long? (6,170 words), follows episode 1 (from Reader POV)

*I USE ‘Y/N’ FOR READER THROUGHOUT*

Sisters of Mine

Chapter 1

3rd POV

War. Destruction. Death. That was what awaited 3 young girls. The oldest has short, shaggy pink hair and pale blue eyes. Her parents called her Vi. She can’t be older than 12. The younger girl, who is about 6 years old has the same shaggy, wild hair the older girl does, but hers is bright blue. Her name is Powder. She has dark, deep blue eyes. The older girl with pink hair is holding a baby girl. She is their baby sister, Y/N, who is only about 6 months old.

The eldest has her sister with blue hair cover her eyes and sing as they walk through the rubble on the Bridge. Their parents had told them to stay until they returned, only, they never did. The fighting ceased and when the adults never came back, Vi decided to go out to look for them. Her younger sister, Powder, wanted to come as well, which meant she also had to take Y/N. Can’t leave a baby by themselves. They need protection and care. That’s what the girls’ parents told them. They are both super protective of their baby sister.

They stop and Powder peeks through her fingers to look up at Vi, who appears stunned and shocked. Powder turns to see rubble and bodies. She gasps quietly. The only sound is Y/N’s whimpering and fire crackling.

That’s when Vi hears a loud but dull thunk of metal connecting with something. Vi turns and in the smoke, she sees a silhouette of a large, muscular man. The smoke dissipates and Vi is able to see that the large man is killing an Enforcer, hitting him hard with metal gauntlets, crushing the Enforcer’s skull. He hears Y/N’s cries and turns to see the 3 young girls standing, staring at him. He approaches them and Powder steps into Vi’s side as the eldest takes a protective step forward, keeping a firm grip on their baby sister. The man’s look is sad and Vi looks at him as if to ask for help, taking a step towards the man—to ask where their parents are. You see, Vi and Powder vaguely know this man. They know his name is Vander and that he’s a friend of their parents.

The man, Vander, glances over to the left sadly and Vi follows his gaze. That’s when her eyes spot 2 bodies. The woman…she’s covered in blood and her eyes are open. The same dark blue eyes Powder has. Vi can’t see the man, but she knows who it is. They are the bodies of their parents. Vi’s eyes water and she takes a couple of shaky breaths before collapsing to her knees, crying, holding onto Y/N. Powder wraps her small arms around the 2 of them as Vi cries. Y/N starts crying as well because they are crying. Vander approaches the girls and lets his cast iron gauntlets drop, cracking the ground upon impact. He gently picks up Powder and Y/N in one arm and Vi in the other. Y/N cries as Powder tries calming her. Vi peers over Vander’s shoulder, her arms are wrapped around his muscular neck. She glares at an Enforcer as they release a bullet casing before walking back into the smoke and dust of the failed rebellion. Vi’s grip on Vander tightens in anger slightly as he walks the girls back down to the Lanes.

Time Lapse—4yrs

About 4 years have passed since Vi, Powder and Y/N lost their parents and Vander, the owner of the Last Drop, took them in. Vander also took in 2 boys, Claggor and Mylo who also lost their parents that day on the Bridge. They are around Vi’s age.

Vi has grown into a stubborn, tough 16yr old girl dead set on punching her way through any problem. Powder is a shy, passive 10 year old girl but incredibly smart. She often hangs out with Little Man since they are close in age. Little Man, also known as Ekko, was adopted by Vander’s friend, Benzo. He owns a pawnshop just down the street from the Vander’s bar. Y/N is now a sweet, smart but scrawny 4 year old kid who loves learning from Powder and Ekko. Because of her age, Y/N is often left at the bar if Vi and the others leave and she’d usually go find Ekko. He’s Powder’s best friend, but he’s also like an older brother to Y/N. He often shows her what to pick out from the junkyards. Mylo and Claggor often ignore Y/N, since she’s so young, so she really prefers Ekko for a brother anyways. Especially since Mylo doesn’t particularly like her.

Vi, Powder, Mylo and Claggor had gotten a tip from Ekko about a place topside to check out. Someone came into Benzo’s pawn shop who looked ‘weird’ according to Ekko. He had enough money to be charged double, so Vi decided to follow the lead. Originally it was just Vi, Mylo and Claggor, but Powder wanted to tag along as well, much to Y/N’s disappointment. She loved Ekko and Vander and even ‘Uncle Benzo’, but she really missed having Powder around. Y/N can’t keep up with the others and she has nothing she’s really good at. Mylo would tease her, saying that at least Powder’s a great shot. Mylo always says Y/N often slows down the older siblings and he feels like Y/N a burden, something Powder can relate to, which is why they get along so well.

Vi told Powder she could come along, since she would know what valuable stuff to take and the 2 older sisters had to tell Y/N to stay behind. It wasn’t until the older kids left that Y/N decided to go find Ekko.

Reader’s POV

I wave sadly at Powder and Vi as they head out the door. Vander, my dad, is busy running the bar and I don’t wanna be alone. I glance at the clock. Ekko would probably be at the junkyard right about now. I slip on my worn hand-me-downs I got from Powder and hurry up the steps.

I shut the door behind me and hurry up the last short set of stairs that leads into the main bar area. The music from the jukebox is drowned out by the few people scattered about. I spot my dad behind the counter. Vi, Powder and even the boys call him Vander, though I don’t know why. Vi said he’s not our real father, but the large muscular man with shaggy graying brown hair with a matching beard and mustache is all I can picture when thinking of the word ‘dad’.

He’s busy with someone at the bar, filling the cup and talking. I won’t be gone too long. I head back down the stairs and to the left is the door that leads outside to the side alley. I push the heavy door a few times for it to open enough and I groan slightly as I push it back shut.

I look around before heading off towards the junkyards. It’s not far since the bar is almost at the center of the Lanes.

I see the hills of rusted scrap metal that’s mostly beyond repair. A few adults scavenge here as well but most pay no mind to me. I walk through the trails made through the junk and that’s when I hear a familiar voice. A groan, actually. I hurry around a piece of rusted out metal and see Ekko sifting through a pile!

“Little Man!” I exclaim. His head snaps up and a wide smile spreads across his face when he spots me.

“Y/N!” He exclaims back and braces himself as I launch myself at him, colliding with his thighs and stomach, wrapping my arms around him and squeezing tight.

We laugh as we part.

“What’re you doing here? I thought Pow-pow was gonna show you her surprise-“ Ekko tells me. My eyes widen in excitement.

“Surprise?!” I ask and he nods.

“She was so proud of it and wanted to show you-“ he explains and my face falls slightly.

“N-No, she didn’t tell me. She left with Vi and the boys,” I explain to him. Now his face changes into a look of concern.

“She did?” He asks and I nod.

“Vi said she was ready and let her go with them. They told me to stay at the bar,” I tell him, “so I decided to come find you.” Ekko smirks, chuckling slightly.

“Did Vi say where they were going?” Ekko asks and I nod.

“To that place you told them about. With that weirdo guy you were talking about,” I explain and Ekko nods, knowing which I mean. Not noticing how concerned Ekko seems, I look through the oil-stained rusty metal and find what appears to be a tool! I gasp and pick it up.

“What is it?” Ekko asks.

“Look what I found-“ I say, holding up the screwdriver.

“Hey look at that! Your first find! And a tool no less! That means it’s time for you to start tinkering,” Ekko tells me and I smile happily.

“C’mon, let’s go to my hideout-I can show you what I found too,” he tells me, patting his pockets. I nod in agreement.

“Ok,” I say and follow Ekko back to Uncle Benzo’s, holding his hand and chatting along the way.

We get back to the pawnshop and Ekko holds the door open for me, making the bell on top jingle.

“There you are Ekko—oh-Y/N-I got a donation from this morning, thought you’d like to have it-“ Uncle Benzo says, searching a drawer. I walk up to the counter and watch the large man pull out a small box. He opens it and my eyes widen when I see they’re colors! 4 whole colors! Yellow, green, purple and orange! They look used, but the tips are still pretty pointy and long. Not used for long. Ekko smiles.

“Make sure to wash up before tracking all that grease upstairs-“ he tells Ekko, who nods.

“Yep-c’mon Y/N-“ Ekko tells me. I take the box of colors.

“Thanks Uncle Benzo-“ I tell him. He chuckles.

“Sure thing kid,” he says as I follow Ekko upstairs. We wash up in the small bathroom and I follow Ekko out his bedroom window and up the fire escape ladder that leads to the roof.

Ekko sits and empties his pockets.

“Woah! You found a square plug! Powder’s been looking for one of those-“ I say and he nods.

“Yeah I remember. I had found a few earlier but they were all either too rusted or stripped,” Ekko says.

“Stripped?” I ask. He nods.

“See all these grooves on this part?” He asks, pointing to the part that goes into whatever needs the plug. I reach and feel it. It’s small, but bumpy and I nod.

“If a screw or something is stripped, it doesn’t have that and won’t be able to fit into place,” Ekko explains. I nod, understanding. I watch Ekko tinker with the parts he’s salvaged along with a few parts scattered about the rooftop hideout.

He’s trying to fix his stopwatch. It got broken during a game between him and Powder. I remember watching the 2 in the alley. Ekko had dodged the 1st 3 shots before getting hit with pink paint on the 4th shot, with Powder exclaiming victory and laughing. Ekko, in frustration had thrown the stopwatch down and it broke.

“There, I think I got it-“ he says, closing it up. He clicks the button and I hear a soft, but audible ticking noise. I smile and see the red pointer ticking.

“You fixed it!” I exclaim happily. He nods.

“Wanna go to the basement?” Ekko asks, referring to our hangout/sleeping area in the basement of the Last Drop. I nod and we head down the ladder and hop down onto the garbage bins before jumping down to the ground and walking across and down the street.

We get to the bar and I have us enter through the side alley door. Ekko gets the heavy door for me and closes it behind us. I hurry down the steps and open the basement door. I flick the light switch and hurry down the rest of the stairs before hopping onto the couch. We continue talking, mostly about the others.

After about two and a half hours pass, Ekko decides to head back home. I’m laying in the lower bunk Powder and I share, listening to music. That’s when the door suddenly opens and I gasp. I look and see my older siblings trudge down the stairs. Mylo, Claggor and Powder take the couches while Vi takes the armchair.

“You’re back!” I exclaim happily, running up to Powder and Vi. I hug both of them before getting a good look at them. Powder appears to be ok, but the others are covered in blood and bruises and they’re all a bit dirty and smell a bit.

“Yeah, we’re back,” Mylo scoffs.

“What happened to you?” I ask.

“Vander learns none of this,” Vi instructs, ignoring my question.

“No worries there—Powder took care of the evidence,” Mylo complains.

“I tried ok!? I-It’s not fair! You’re older! You’re bigger! It isn’t fair!” Powder exclaims back at him.

“So stick with us! Take a punch or two!” Mylo exclaims. I grab the rubber ball we play with and throw it hard at Mylo, hitting his shoulder.

“Ow! Hey you little-!” Mylo exclaims, rubbing his shoulder before the sound of the door opening shuts him up.

“Everyone alright?” Dad asks, walking down the stairs.

“Never better…good,” the boys mumble. Vi refuses to look at him. Something’s definitely wrong.

“I don’t suppose you can explain why it is that I’m hearing about an explosion and a foot chase topside?” Dad asks. My eyes widen and I look at Powder, tugging on her arm. She gives me a look meaning that she’ll tell me later and I nod.

“Four children fleeing the scene. What the hell were you thinking?” Dad asks Vi.

“That we could handle a real job-“ Vi says, looking at him.

“A real job?” He asks.

“We got our own tip, planned a route, nobody even saw-“ Vi tries to explain.

“You blew up a building,” Dad argues.

“Did you even stop to think about what could have happened to you? Eh? To them?!” He asks angrily. Vi glances away, covering her mouth with her hand.

The large man sighs and rubs his forehead with his hand in frustration.

“Where did you even get this tip?” He asks. At first no one answers. He looks to Powder and she would’ve said something had Mylo not been glaring at her. Dad glances to me and his look softens a bit, but he’s still pretty serious.

“Y/N?” He asks, knowing how easily I crack.

“It was from Uncle Benzo’s,” I say and the boys sigh.

“From?” He asks. Powder gives me a nudge and shakes her head slightly.

“Little Man,” I reveal and even though I feel bad about telling, I’m glad he knows. Dad sighs, and Vi immediately stands up.

“I brought us there so be mad at me, but you’re the one who always says we have to earn our place in this world-“ Vi argues.

“I also told you time and time again the north side’s off limits!” Dad argues.

“Why!? They’ve got plenty while we’re down here scraping together coins! When did you get so comfortable living in someone else’s shadow?” Vi asks and a tense silence falls over the room. I cling to Powder, afraid of what’s going to happen.

“Everyone out,” Dad orders in a calm seriousness that is almost unsettling. The boys stand first before Powder does as well but I don’t move. Dad looks at me and I see how serious he looks.

“Powder,” he says and that’s when Powder picks me up and carries me out with her. I don’t protest. His look…he’s never looked like that…at least towards me before.

Claggor shuts the door behind us.

“He was really mad,” I whimper about the bar owner turned father.

“Why did you tell Vander?!” Mylo snaps and I flinch, tucking my face into Powder’s neck, my grip around her tightening slightly.

“Back off Mylo-“ Powder defends me, glaring at the older boy before walking away.

We walk outside to the side alley.

“A building blew up?” I ask as she sets me down. I lean against the side of the building and slide down to sit. Powder nods and takes a seat next to me.

“Yeah, it was an accident,” she tells me.

“What happened?” I ask.

“I..I don’t really know. We had to hurry out-“ Powder tells me.

“Well at least you made it back,” I tell her.

“Yeah, barely,” she replies with a scoff.

“Why are you sad?” I ask, noticing the tears on her cheeks. She looks at me and wipes her eyes before looking away.

“I’m fine,” she lies. I pout.

“Mylo?” I ask and when she doesn’t respond, I know that means yes. I instantly wrap my arms around my older sister and squeeze.

“Why is Mylo so mean?” I ask. While Mylo would usually be mean to Powder, he hasn’t exactly been the nicest brother to me either. He always says I’m a burden and because I’m a baby, I shouldn’t hang around them. So I understand how Powder feels.

“I…I don’t know,” Powder admits, hugging me back.

3rd POV

The two girls stay sitting, hugging, for a moment. Everything that happened plays through Powder’s mind. Sure she had trouble hopping on the rooftops, but Vi had caught her. Though she didn’t miss Mylo’s eye-roll and head shake of disapproval. Then, once inside, it looked like nothing Powder had ever seen. So many books and objects, but she did recognize something, the Valdiani music box. She took that along with-

Powder gasps suddenly and her eyes widen. Y/N pulls back, slightly confused.

“What?” The younger girl asks.

“I forgot-“ Powder tells her baby sister. She reaches into the pouch she has attached to her belt and pulls out the 5 blue crystals she took. She shows them to Y/N, who awes in fascination at the glowing blue stones.

“Woah…pretty,” Y/N awes quietly. Powder smiles and nods.

“What are they?” Y/N asks curiously, reaching to pick one out of Powder’s hand to get a closer look. Y/N picks up one glowing stone and stares at it.

“I dunno-“ Powder tells Y/N.

“C’mon, let’s go show Vi-“ Y/N tells Powder, who nods in agreement.

The two girls hurry inside with Powder pulling the heavy wooden and metal door open for the both of them and shutting it as they get inside. Y/N follows Powder down the stairs as they get to the almost shut door to the basement.

“Ugh-she’s the problem,” Mylo hears. Before Y/N can open the door, Powder stops her and motions for her baby sister to be quiet. Y/N nods understanding and they peek through the crack to eavesdrop. Powder, Y/N and Ekko eavesdrop all the time so it’s not uncommon.

“Mylo I’m really not-“ Vi tries telling the wild haired boy as he tosses the rubber ball on the wall, making a thunking sound.

“Do you remember what was in that bag? The biggest payout we’ve ever seen and she just lost it!” Mylo argues.

“She made a mistake,” Vi argues.

“Name one time she hasn’t,” Mylo argues back, referring to Powder, throwing the ball roughly. Y/N notices Powder flinch sadly. She reaches out and grabs Powder’s hand and squeezes lightly.

“She’s young-“ Vi continues to argue with the boy.

“Don’t bullshit me, you were twice the person at Y/N’s age. Besides, Powder can take care of the runt while we’re out,” Mylo says, calling Y/N a runt. The little girl balls her fists angrily.

“You know what Mylo? You’re right. There’s a bunch of things Powder just can’t do and Y/N’s too young,” Vi says about both her sisters.

“You don’t have to tell me twice,” Mylo mutters. The two younger girls share a look before Y/N reaches up, wanting to be held. Powder picks up her younger sister and hurries out. Of course Vi hadn’t meant it the way it sounded.

However, the younger girls leave before hearing Vi’s defense.

“Like complain about everything,” Vi snaps.

“What?” Mylo asks, throwing the ball again.

“And brag nonstop,” Vi adds, sitting, leaning forward with her elbows on her thighs.

“Ok-ok I see where this is going-“ Mylo laughs, throwing the ball.

“Picking fights with the group when we need to focus?” Vi asks, catching the ball to get his attention.

“Vi I-“ Mylo chuckles.

“Or tell strangers on the street we got a nice haul?!” Vi asks interrupting the boy, throwing the ball hard at Mylo to make him understand the seriousness of his actions.

“I-I didn’t mean-“ Mylo stutters as Vi towers over him on the couch.

“The girls are my problem because they’re my sisters. Your problem is never knowing when to shut up but I’m going to help you with that,” Vi says, “see this look on my face?! This will always mean it’s time to shut up!” Vi snaps at the boy.

“But-I-!” He tries, but Vi points at her face and he sighs.

Reader POV

Powder takes me with her and that’s when I ask her.

“Am I a burden?” I ask.

“W-What?” Powder replies, more stunned than anything.

“To us…our family…to you…am I a burden?” I ask, on the verge of tears. Powder stops and sets me down. I see her own eyes shine with unshed tears.

“No-never. It’s…my fault. I’m a jinx,” Powder says, and I recognize the insult as one of Mylo’s and frown as tears slip down Powder’s cheeks.

“No! Mylo’s a liar! He’s a liar!” I start to yell, not caring that I’m crying as well. I feel a hand on my back and look up to see Powder looking at me with a kind smile, though I still notice the tears in her eyes.

“Thank you…for defending me,” Powder tells me before pulling me into a hug. The sudden switch causes my anger to die down. I immediately wrap my arms around my older sister.

“Always,” I reply.

Powder suggests going to see Ekko and I happily agree. We’re in his hideout right now, talking, though I’m mostly listening.

“Why don’t you show Y/N your surprise,” Ekko suggests and I start to hop up and down excitedly.

“Yeah! Yeah! Yeah! Show me! Show me!” I exclaim. Powder looks away nervously.

“N-No-no-I…it..doesn’t work-“ Powder stutters slightly. I frown in confusion. Ekko frowns as well, but his is out of concern.

“What’re you talking about? We tested it two days a-“

“Yeah well it doesn’t work now ok? I…I used it…earlier today,” Powder admits and Ekko gives her an empathetic look.

“I don’t understand-what?” I ask, not knowing what Powder’s talking about.

“It’s ok..I’ve had stuff not work too. But you can still show Y/N, right?” Ekko asks.

“Yeah pleeeeeaaaase?!” I beg, tugging on Powder’s blue shirt. She made it herself and will also fix my clothes if they rip. She chuckles.

“Ok-ok-“ she says and pulls out something from her leather pouch. I look and see it looks metallic but my eyes immediately go to the bright colors on it. It looks like a-

“Mouse,” I say, pointing. She chuckles and nods.

“Good eye. This is Mouser,” she tells me but I watch her expression fall into sadness.

“She didn’t work,” she says as if remembering something.

“But she will, we can work together,” Ekko says, glancing at me with a smile. I smile back and nod eagerly.

“Yeah! I wanna help! I wanna help! Pow-pow please?!” I beg. She looks at me and nods after only a moment.

“Sure, I could use all the help I can get-“ she says and I cheer happily.

“Yaaaaay!! I’ll help!! I’ll help!” I exclaim before Powder and Ekko grab Ekko’s toolbox. She sets Mouser down and unscrews the head.

“Can I see?” I ask and she nods. She teaches me about how she built it and how it’s supposed to work.

“Does she go boom?!” I ask excitedly and Powder nods.

“Let’s see what the problem is,” Ekko says, spinning a wrench in his hand. I watch my older siblings get to work and I make sure to pay attention.

After about an hour or so, Powder realizes we should go home.

“But we’re not done!” I argue.

“We can always finish tomorrow,” Ekko says and Powder nods.

“Vander basically grounded us anyways,” Powder adds. I sigh, pouting.

“C’mon, I’ll show you my latest idea,” Powder bribes. I light up and nod.

“Ok,” I agree and turn to Ekko and leap at him. I wrap my scrawny small arms around his hips and squeeze tightly.

“Bye Little Man,” I say, using his nickname. He chuckles lightly and ruffles my hair with one hand and hugs me with the other.

“See ya tomorrow Lil Sis,” he says as I pull back. I watch as he and Powder hug tightly before parting. Powder grabs my hand and waves goodbye to Ekko as we walk home. I wave too as the boy waves back at us.

We get back to the bar just as Dad and Claggor head out.

“Girls, it’s time to stay home,” Dad tells us and we nod as he and Claggor walk down to Uncle Benzo’s.

“Huh, I wonder what’s going on,” Powder says out loud but when I try to follow, she grabs hold of my collar and makes sure I go inside.

We walk in and I hurry down to the basement. I open the door slowly at first to take a peek, but when I look around, I see it’s empty.

“C’mon, no one’s here,” I tell her and walk inside.

Powder turns on the music/record player as I grab the colors I got earlier from Uncle Benzo and find a piece of paper in the wooden box Powder lets me keep some of my stuff in.

“What is that?” Powder asks me.

“It’s some colors Uncle Benzo got. He gave them to me and I wanna add ‘em to the ones we got,” I explain.

“Ooh can I draw with you?” Powder asks and I nod eagerly.

“Yeah!” I exclaim happily. Powder moves over on our bed and motions for me to sit next to her. I grab my stuff and move over to my sister. She grabs one of the new colors I got. I’m confused at first until she grabs one of her inventions.

“What’s that?” I ask, curious.

“This one is Whisker. She goes with Mouser,” Powder explains, drawing on the metal container.

We keep coloring until the basement door opens again. I look up and see Vi walk down the stairs. She approaches our bunk and leans on the top, looking down at us.

“What’re you calling this one?” Vi asks, knowing Powder names her inventions.

“Whisker,” Powder says as she outlines the mouth.

“Here, move over kiddo,” Vi tells me and I shift to the side so Vi can sit down.

“You wanna talk about today?” Vi asks her.

“What’s the point? I ruin everything. I always do,” Powder says, sitting up with her legs pulled up so her knees meet her chin.

“Nobody said that-“ Vi tries telling her.

“No, just that you were ‘twice the person at Y/N’s age’,” Powder says, repeating what we had overheard earlier between Mylo and Vi.

“You heard them,” Powder tells Vi sadly as she clicks Whisker’s head into place, “I’m not a fighter,” she says.

“You don’t have to be,” Vi says as Powder frustratedly presses Whisker against her forehead. Vi glances up where Powder hangs all her bombs that she makes.

“Look, I’ve got these, and you’ve got those,” Vi says making a fist before lightly touching the metallic canisters.

“They never work-“ Powder argues.

“They will,” Vi says and I nod.

“You help teach me stuff-I need you-“ I say, emphasizing that I need her, and Powder gives me a half-hearted smile. Vi smiles at me and ruffles my hair.

“She’s right,” Vi tells Powder before Vi’s eyes light up a bit.

“Come with me,” Vi says. Without waiting, I immediately jump out of bed and start following.

“What?” Powder asks.

“C’mon,” Vi insists as I tug on Powder’s arm. She pats my hand and shuts off the string lights in our bunk before we head outside, up on the roof.

I cling to Powder’s arm as we follow Vi out the door and to the edge of the room. She sits and motions for us to do the same. Powder sits on Vi’s left and, wanting to sit next to both of them, I wriggle in between them, making my older sisters chuckle and Vi ruffles my hair.

“What’re we doing out here?” Powder asks. Vi looks and spots a rusted out pipe stuck in the chain link leaned up against some old boxes.

“Here, see that sign?” Vi asks, handing Powder the pipe. Vi points and Powder follows Vi’s finger.

“Mylo drew that middle finger and he tripped over that red paint bucket and nearly fell off. His ass made that splotch,” Vi says. I cup my hands around my eyes to get a better look and spot the paint. Powder laughs.

“And there-“ Vi points to the right and down. We follow and see a small gap in the ground with wooden planks as a walkway.

“Claggor tripped there running from Enforcers and got his foot stuck. He was there all night before we found him,” Vi explains. I see some guy peeing, but I think about the story Vi told. It’s not close to the bar so Claggor must’ve been scared…I would be if I was alone.

“And that,” Vi says, pointing to the power lines that connect to the bar. Powder lowers the pipe and looks. They string to different buildings and disappear in the dim light. But I spot something tangled in the lines. It’s…it’s a toy! Powder sees it too.

“When I was a kid, some guy took my favorite toy and threw it up there,” Vi explains.

“I’d come outside hoping the wind or a bird might knock it down,” Vi says with a sad look on her face.

“We’ve all had bad days. But we learn, and we stick together,” Vi says, wrapping her arm around us and pulling both me and Powder into her. We smile at Vi. That’s when I remember what Powder had shown me earlier.

“Pow-pow-“ I say, tugging lightly on her shirt, “the light rocks-“ I remind her and she gasps.

“Oh! I forgot!” She exclaims.

“What’s a light rock?” Vi asks curiously. Powder takes out 3 of the glowing blue stones from earlier and shows Vi.

“These were in my pocket. They’re from the apartment,” Powder explains to Vi.

“What are they?” Vi asks, staring at the small glowing stone in Powder’s hand.

“We dunno,” Powder says, glancing at me.

“Maybe we can get lots of money for them!” I suggest.

“You mean they’re valuable?” Powder asks and I nod.

“Should we show Vander?” Powder asks Vi.

“No-“ Vi immediately answers. Powder and I exchange a worried look before turning to Vi.

“Let’s keep this our little secret,” Vi says looking at both of us. Powder nods and Vi looks down at me.

“Y/N?” She asks and I look to Powder, who nods encouragingly.

“I won’t tell,” I assure my oldest sister.

“Mylo’s wrong Powder. You’re stronger than you think. And Y/N, you may be young, but you’re smart. Pow-pow and Little Man taught you well,” Vi compliments, winking at Powder, who absorbs Vi’s affection. Powder told me once that she wished she could be more like Vi to protect me so I know she wants to be like Vi.

“One day, this city’s gonna respect us,” Vi says confidently, standing up to look at the sprawling city. I lean against Powder’s side and think about Mylo…what he said…and I think about how Vi doesn’t feel that way. The light breeze feels nice and I enjoy the time with my sisters.

Meanwhile…

3rd POV

Deckard makes his way through the streets until he’s suddenly ambushed. He blacks out and wakes up when he’s thrown into a chair. He groans as the chair skids back a bit from the force. His breathing quickens as a large pale man sneers at him. The muscular man presses a pipe against Deckard’s neck.

“Gah!” Deckard gasp and starts squirming.

“You were supposed to follow them and not interfere,” a smooth, slightly raspy male voice says followed by a small sound of metal clicking. Deckard struggles against the metal choking him.

“I’m sorry! They split up and caught us by surprise!” Deckard gasps.

“Now his accomplice is asking questions about you,” the man replies. Deckard looks and in the dim lighting, he can make out a thin man with slicked back dark hair. His clothes look nice but Deckard can’t make out the details. The man is holding some sort of metallic device. Deckard watches as the man tilts his head back and uses the metal device to pierce his eye! Deckard’s eyes widen in shock.

“That’s not a risk I’m willing to take,” the man says and the huge muscular man pressing the pipe to Deckard’s neck suddenly presses harder.

“Agh-“ the young man gasps.

“The kids! It was their fault! The explosion! In the upper city!” Deckard pleads, and that gets the mystery man’s attention.

“That was them?” He asks.

“Yeah. The topsiders are up in arms looking for ‘em,” Deckard explains.

“Vander’s in trouble,” the mysterious man says, referring to the Last Drop’s owner. The man turns to look Deckard face on and Deckard chuckles nervously when he sees the mystery man’s left eye is glowing in the darkness.

“Smartest thing you ever said, boy,” the man says, standing. The man practically saunters over.

“Get him a meal,” the mystery man tells the other two that presumably work for him. The muscular man lets go of Deckard’s throat, tossing the metal pipe down with a clanging sound and the young man gasps for air.

“Keep him off the streets,” the man instructs as the two men practically drag Deckard away.

The mystery man walks up to the glass wall that looks out at the vast ocean that’s home to many of the sea creatures and monsters the man enjoys watching.

“Our timeline has moved up,” the mystery man says, at first appearing to talk to himself, until a quiet scientist makes his presence known behind the thin man.

“It’s almost ready,” the scientist says, looking at a vile of glowing purple liquid.

“Show me,” the man says. The scientist motions for him to follow to a small enclosed space that contains a mouse.

“Feeding time,” the scientist says, picking up a hairless cat looking inside the area. The cat meows as he’s placed inside. The scientist locks it closed before the man turns to him.

“And the side effects?” The man asks. The scientist mixes in the glowing liquid with the mouse’s water supply.

“Stabilizing,” the scientist replies, tapping the glass to get the mouse’s attention. It squeaks before going over to the slightly purple water. It drinks some of the water while the cat stalks up to it curiously.

The mouse suddenly squeaks as if in pain and backs away from the water, twitching. That’s when purple veins start appearing all over the mouse and it grows in size by about 3 times, gaining unnatural muscle. And it’s regular, black eye is now a glowing purple. It’s squeaks are now a mash of snarls and noises of pain. The monster mouse turns on the cat, causing the cat to freeze. The mouse leaps at the cat and the feline lets out a dying meow as the rat instantly kills the animal.

The glass cracks and blood splatters, causing the 2 men to make faces of slight disgust.

“Do you have a subject in mind?” The scientist asks.

“Someone just volunteered,” the mysterious man says, referring to Deckard.

End.

Chapter 2

[fanfic-writing-addic]

I sit across from six as I do my thing on the computer trying to find number four. “So what is the plan?” I ask,

“We find him, and get him the hell out of there.” She responds, her response is always the same “I’m going to get a refill want one?”

“Yes please.” She takes our cups up tot eh counter. Coffee one of my favorite human drinks. I stop typing. Paradise paradise Ohio is where he’s at. Is he and his ceapean insane! That’s one of the places that my people kept watch. We’re screwed. Six comes back.

“What did you fine?” I can hear the concern in her voice.

“We need to go to paradise Ohio right now.” I say, slamming the computer. She doesn’t ask. Just hands me my coffee. We leave. We get in the old beat up car we stole at a junkyard a few weeks ago. She starts driving. I then decide to fill in. “We have another problem. Paradise is on of the hand full of place my people have put watch over.”

“Fuck!” She yells, she then begins speeding taking all the back roads as I navigate her. Her knuckles right from gripping the stirring wheel so tight. We go directly to a school. My people are already there.

“Looks like we are going to have to fight our way in.”

“Yeah, looks like it.” We get out of the car. She takes my hand turning us invisible. We take out a few mogs along the way and steal their blasters. Not like they need them anymore anyway. We follow the line of mogs to a door. Six turns us visible and we start shooting. She busts down the door. I hold them off. “Alex, get your ass in here!” She shouts, so I do. She slams the door behind me. There are four other people in the room. A girl with blond hair. A boy with shaggy blond hair. A boy with dark brown hair. And a boy with blond hair.

“Which one of you is four?” I ask, one of the boys with blond hair raises his hand. I roll my eyes. “If you were one of my people they would have killed you at birth.” It’s a wonder they didn’t kill Adam at birth. Now I have no clue where he is. They captured us and split us up. I helped six escape. I still have no clue where my brother is.

“Your on of them.” The boy with shaggy hair points out.

“Yeah, don’t worry i don’t plan to kill you.”

“Listen I can only turn myself and four of you invisible…” I interrupt her.

“Take them. I can handle myself.”

“Are you sure?”

“I grew up with them. I know how they think and act. I’ll be fine. I’ll go first.” Before she can stop me I’m already out the door. I remove my glasses and bear my teeth. They reqonize me as a commander due to my tattoos. Even though they known I turned they still respect me. That’s the flaw in their DNA. I shoot all of them dead to ash. I then run down the corridor and into a rom that I see it open. There are the others.

“You’re mogadorien?” The old man asks, my guess is that he’s the cépean.

“Yeah, don’t worry I don’t plan on killing you. Just finding my idiot brother. But to be fair I helped him so I guess that makes both of us idiots in the my people eyes.”

“What did you do?” Four asks,

“We tried to save two and three. We failed both times. We got separated. It’s a long story.” More blaster fire. By some miracle we get out alive. But we’re on the run. Nothing new I guess.

[barnacles34]

Professional Hazard (And Blue Tongues)

Karina x Male Reader

9k words

18+ smut

'I expected you to have...'

'Grey hair? Glasses thick as tank armor?' You lean back. 'Let me guess—ancient and decrepit?'

'Something like that.' She toys with her iced americano, ice cubes clinking.

'Get that more than you'd think.'

'Can't imagine why.'

'Sure you can't.'

She straightens in her chair. 'Well? Are you going to ask your questions or what?'

'Did you have something specific in mind?'

'I thought you'd at least come prepared.' The sharp edge in her voice softens, adapting. 'After that email you sent.'

'I am prepared.'

'Do you know who I am?'

'I know you're Karina. I know you agreed to fund my little Italian vacation.' You keep your voice flat, unimpressed.

She laughs, short and sharp. 'They really sent someone who knows nothing.'

'Biographers aren't exactly growing on trees these days. Most of them are busy dying off.' [1]

'That's comforting.'

'About as comforting as your enthusiastic response to my email.'

'Ah.' She smirks. 'My monument to hubris?'

'Your words, not mine.'

'Christ, you're not exactly sunshine and roses, are you?'

'If only you knew.'

'Oh, I think I do.' She leans forward. 'People like me—we're your bread and butter. Desperate enough to take the abuse just to get that book written.'

'Quick study.'

'Experience, darling.' She draws out the last word like stretched taffy.

'If immortality's what you're after, we're off to a rocky start.'

'Not even grateful for the Italian holiday?'

You meet her eyes. 'Bribery's nothing new. Don't expect it to polish your image.'

'Tough nut to crack, aren't you?'

'I have what I need.'

'Meaning?'

'Let me put this delicately: my last subject bought me a year at New York's finest.' [2]

'Fantastic.' She rattles her ice cubes harder.

'You know what I think?' She sets down her drink with deliberate care.

'Enlighten me.'

'I think you enjoy this. The whole "unimpressed biographer" act.'

You pull out your notebook, unhurried. 'That'd make a great chapter one. "Local girl psychoanalyzes writer, lives to regret it."'

'There it is again.' Her smile doesn't reach her eyes. 'Tell me, do your subjects usually last long enough for chapter two?'

'The interesting ones do.'

'And the boring ones?'

You flip open to a blank page. 'They get a lovely rejection letter.'

'Which I didn't.'

'Yet.'

She leans back, studying you. The late afternoon sun catches the edge of her glass, throwing prismatic shapes across the table. 'You really don't care that I could walk away right now.'

'The door's right there.' You click your pen. 'But we both know you won't.'

'Because?'

'Because you didn't spend three months negotiating with my publisher just to storm off over hurt feelings.'

'Maybe I just like wasting time.'

'Maybe.' You meet her gaze. 'But people who like wasting time don't usually have a dozen designer brand sponsorships.'

Something shifts in her expression—surprise, maybe, or respect. 'So you did do your homework.'

'I always do.' You position your pen over the blank page. 'Now, shall we begin with the real questions?'

'Shoot.' She shifts in her chair, the late afternoon sun warming the cafe corner we've claimed.

'Tell me about your sister.'

Her eyebrows lift slightly. 'Not starting with the obvious questions?'

'Would you prefer those?'

'No.' She smiles, genuine this time. 'She's a nurse. Like our mom.'

'Close?'

'Very. She's the only person who still calls me Jimin.' She stirs her americano. 'Probably the only person who can get away with it, too.'

'Why's that?'

'Because she knew me when I was just the quiet kid who'd rather read in corners than talk to anyone. Before all of...' She waves her hand vaguely. 'This.'

'Still prefer corners?'

'Sometimes.' She considers the question. 'There's this tiny bookstore in Seongnam. When I go home, I still visit. They have this perfect spot by the window.'

'What do you read?'

'Whatever catches my eye. Last week it was about sharks.'

You raise an eyebrow. 'Sharks?'

'Don't look so surprised.' She laughs. 'They're fascinating. Everyone thinks they know them, but they don't, not really.'

'Speaking from experience?'

She takes a long sip of her drink instead of answering.

'You don't have to do that, you know.' You set your pen down.

'Do what?'

'Deflect. Turn everything into a metaphor.'

She meets your eyes for a long moment. 'Force of habit.'

'Bad one.'

'Says the person who's been matching my deflections word for word.' A half-smile plays at her lips. 'We're quite the pair, aren't we?'

'Difference is, I'm paid to be difficult.'

'And I was raised to be.' The words slip out before she can catch them. Her fingers tighten around her glass.

You wait.

'You're good at this,' she says quietly.

'At what?'

'Making silence comfortable.' She looks out the window. 'Most people try to fill it.'

'Most people aren't trying to understand.'

She turns back to you, something shifting in her expression. 'Is that what you're trying to do? Understand?'

'Would that be so terrible?'

'No,' she says.

'Progress.' You pick up your pen again. 'Though I've just realized something deeply troubling.'

'What's that?'

'Your americano's been empty for ten minutes, and you're still pretending to drink it.'

She glances at her glass, caught. 'Method acting.'

'Ah yes, the classic "I'm too invested in this conversation to pause for a refill" performance.' You wave to catch the barista's eye. 'Oscar-worthy.'

'Says the person who hasn't touched their...' She leans forward to peek at your cup. 'What even is that?'

'Green tea.'

'Pretentious.'

'Says the person who ordered an iced americano in winter.'

'It's barely spring.'

'Case in point.'

The barista arrives with fresh drinks. Karina raises an eyebrow at your cup. 'Still green tea?'

'I'm consistent.'

'Boring.'

'Strategic.' You take a deliberate sip. 'Can't blame caffeine jitters for whatever honesty slips out.'

'Sneaky.'

'Professional.'

'Same thing.' She stirs her new drink, ice cubes clinking. 'So what's next in your strategic interrogation?'

'Thought we agreed to drop the deflection thing.'

'Old habits. Ten seconds at a time.'

'That's oddly specific.'

'It's how I learned to swim.' At your questioning look, she continues, 'Ten seconds of courage. Then you can panic all you want.'

'Does that work?'

'Got me here, didn't it?' She gestures between you two. 'Letting a stranger with a notebook and suspiciously consistent beverage choices pick apart my life.'

'You could always run.'

'To where? Croatia?' She laughs at your surprised expression. 'What? I have dreams.'

'Of Croatia specifically?'

'Of anywhere that doesn't know my name.'

'That's rather poetic for someone who just called me pretentious.'

'I contain multitudes.' She mock-bows in her seat.

'Walt Whitman now?'

'See? You're not the only one who can be insufferably well-read.'

You make a show of writing something down. 

You flip to a fresh page. 'Tell me about Croatia.'

'Nothing to tell. Just a place.'

'There are plenty of places that don't know your name. Why that one?'

She traces the rim of her glass again, a habit you've started to recognize as her thinking gesture. 'Have you ever seen those old coastal towns? The ones with narrow streets and buildings that look like they're having conversations with each other?'

'Been to a few.'

'I want to get lost in one.' She looks up. 'Properly lost. No GPS, no itinerary. Just... walking until my feet decide to stop.'

'Most people want to be found.'

'Most people haven't spent years being findable.' The sharpness in her voice surprises both of you. She softens it with a smile. 'Sorry. That sounded more dramatic than intended.'

'Don't apologize. It's the first time you've stopped performing since we sat down.'

'I haven't been—' She stops. Laughs. 'Okay. Point taken.'

'Progress. Again.'

'You're keeping score?'

'Always.' You tap your notebook. 'It's kind of the whole point.'

'And how am I doing?'

'In being honest or deflecting?'

'Both.'

'You're averaging about fifty-fifty.'

'Generous scoring.'

'Strategic encouragement.'

'You're good at that.' She stretches slightly. 'Making people think they're in control of the conversation.'

'Are you not?'

'Please. We both know you've been steering this ship since you sat down.' She pauses. 'Though I will say, you're the first interviewer who hasn't asked about my routine yet.'

'Your routine?'

'You know. "What time do you wake up? What's your skincare regimen? How many hours do you practice?" That whole song and dance.'

'Would you like me to ask?'

'God no.' She grins. 'But I'm curious why you haven't.'

'Because routines are what people do. I'm more interested in who they are.'

'And who am I?'

'Still figuring that out. But I know you crack your knuckles when you're nervous.'

She stops mid-crack, caught. 'Observant.'

'Professional hazard.' You lean forward. 'Tell me something real. Not about routines or schedules or practices.'

'Like what?'

'Like what you think about at three AM when you can't sleep.'

She's quiet for a long moment. 'Sometimes I forget what my natural speaking voice sounds like.'

'What do you mean?'

'You spend so many years modulating everything—your voice, your laugh, your reactions—until one day...' She shrugs. 'One day you catch yourself using your "public" voice to order coffee at 3 AM in an empty convenience store, and you realize you can't remember what you used to sound like.'

'And that bothers you.'

'Wouldn't it bother you? Losing something that fundamental without even noticing it was gone?'

'Is that why we're here? Trying to find it again?'

'Maybe.' She smiles, but it's different now. Unpolished. 'Or maybe I'm just tired of having "public" and "private" versions of everything.'

'Including your voice.'

'Including my entire existence.'

'Right.' You snap your notebook shut. 'We're getting gelato.'

—

[1] The suspicious rate at which biographers are "dying off" has become something of an industry joke. Three prominent biographers mysteriously retired after attempting to write about a certain K-pop company's CEO. Totally not suspicious.

[2] The Plaza Hotel, to be specific. Said subject was a tech billionaire whose autobiography mysteriously never made it to print. The hotel suite, however, maintains legendary status among New York's housekeeping staff for its impressive collection of empty green tea bottles and rejection letters.

—

She blinks. 'What?'

'We're walking.' You stand, gathering your things. 'Unless you have somewhere to be?'

'Are you actually asking, or is this another strategic move?'

'Both. Neither. Whatever. Does it matter if there's gelato involved?'

A genuine laugh escapes her. 'Fair point.'

The early evening air hits your faces as you step outside. She pulls on a cap—more habit than disguise.

'Left or right?' you ask.

'You're the one who lives here.'

'Technically, I've been here three days.'

'And you already know where to get gelato?'

'First thing I do in any city. Professional secret.'

'Ah yes, the biographer's handbook. Chapter One: locate ice cream immediately.'

'Chapter Two: never reveal your sources.' You turn left. 'Unless they're wearing a questionably large cap and hiding from their own voice.'

'Low blow.' But she's grinning. 'Also, my cap is perfectly sized.'

'For what? Smuggling library books?'

'That's... oddly specific.'

'Says the person who just quoted Walt Whitman in a cafe.'

You find the gelato place tucked between a bookstore and a vintage shop. The owner, an elderly Italian woman, lights up at your approach.

'Due?' she asks.

'Sì,' you reply, then turn to Karina. 'What's your poison?'

She studies the flavors intently. 'What's the most unusual one?'

'Professional or personal answer?'

'There's a difference?'

'Professional would be something elegant. Personal...' You point to a vivid blue flavor. 'That one tastes like your childhood imaginary friend made a pact with a Smurf.'

She doesn't hesitate. 'Two scoops of that, please.'

'Really?'

'What?' She raises an eyebrow. 'Scared of a little blue tongue?'

'More scared of what my editor will say when the interview notes are stained cerulean.'

Ten minutes later, you're both leaning against a stone wall, gelato dripping in the warm evening air. Her tongue is, indeed, impressively blue.

'Yah! Why are you taking a picture?”

'Your tongue. I need photographic evidence for my editor.'

She complains, ‘self-respecting people would’ve walked a long time ago.’

‘And let me guess-’

‘Correct. Take a picture if you want.’

'Pulitzer worthy.' You take another bite of your considerably more dignified pistachio. 'So tell me about the sharks.'

'You're still on that?'

'You brought up marine biology in a cafe and then mysteriously changed the subject. I'm invested now.'

'There's nothing mysterious about it.' She licks a drop of blue from her knuckle. 'I just think they're neat.'

'That's the worst deflection yet.'

'Fine.' She pushes off the wall, starting to walk. 'When I was younger, I used to think they were lonely.'

You fall into step beside her. 'Sharks?'

'Mm. Always swimming, never stopping. Everyone afraid of them.' She shrugs. 'Stupid kid logic.'

'And now?'

'Now I think they're just... misunderstood.' She grins. 'That was terrible, wasn't it? Like a bad movie line.'

'Terrible. But honest.'

'You and your honesty fetish.'

'Says the person who just admitted to emotionally relating to sharks.'

She snorts, nearly dropping her cone. 'When you put it that way—'

'Oh, I'm definitely putting it that way. It's going in the book.'

'Absolutely not.'

'Chapter title: "The Shark Whisperer”. I can see it already'

She tries to hip-check you, but you dodge, protecting your gelato. 'I'm revoking your creative license.'

'Too late. The mental image of baby Jimin crying over shark documentaries is seared into my brain.'

'I did not cry over—' She stops. 'Okay, maybe once. But it was a very sad documentary.' [1]

The sun is setting now, painting the cobblestones gold. You pass a street musician playing something soft and acoustic.

'Your sister know about the sharks?'

'Of course. She bought me the books.' Her smile turns fond. 'Still does, actually. Sends them to me randomly.'

'Recent ones?'

'Last week.' She finishes her cone. 'She has... interesting timing.'

'Interesting timing?'

'Mm.' She wipes her hands on a napkin. 'Right after I told her about the interview. She sent me one about great whites. Said something about facing fears.'

'Subtle.'

'About as subtle as your interview techniques.' She eyes your notebook, still tucked away. 'Not writing anymore?'

'Memory's better when I'm walking.' You tap your temple. 'Also, harder to write about blue tongues while walking.'

'Still blue?'

'Devastatingly so.'

She sticks her tongue out at a passing window, checking her reflection. 'Oh god, it's worse than I thought.'

'Crisis?'

'Please. I once had to perform with my hair half-green because of a dye mishap. This?' She gestures to her mouth. 'This is nothing.'

'Half-green?'

'Not going in the book.'

'Already mentally drafting the chapter.'

She groans. 'I'm starting to regret this whole walking thing.'

'Because of the blackmail material or the exercise?'

'Both. Neither.' She pauses by a small fountain. 'It's just... nice.'

'Nice?'

'Yeah.' She sits on the fountain's edge. 'No schedule. No plan. Just... walking and talking and eating questionably colored gelato with a stranger who probably thinks I'm having a quarter-life crisis.'

'Are you?'

'Having a crisis or eating gelato?'

'Now who's deflecting?' 

And she pauses again, caught.

She dips her fingers in the fountain water, watching the ripples. 'Maybe I just wanted one normal evening. One conversation that wasn't prepackaged and pre-approved.'

'Mission accomplished, I'd say. Your tongue is literally blue.'

That startles a laugh out of her. 'You're never letting that go, are you?'

'It's going to be a running metaphor throughout the book. Deep, meaningful parallels between blue gelato and the human condition.'

'You're terrible at your job.'

'I'm excellent at my job. I got you to walk around Rome with blue teeth.'

'Is that the measure of success?'

'For this chapter? Absolutely.'

The street lamps are starting to flicker on, and the air has that peculiar Roman evening warmth that begs for a drink.

'Know any good bars?' she asks, as if reading your mind.

'Thought you'd never ask[2]. Fair warning though—my Italian's terrible.'

'Better or worse than your interview skills?'

'Much worse. But I can order Aperol Spritz in seventeen different ways.'

'Useful life skill.'

'More useful than relating to sharks.'

She shoves your shoulder lightly. 'One more shark joke and I'm leaving.'

'No, you're not.'

'No, I'm not.' She grins. 'Lead the way, worst Italian speaker.'

You find a tiny place tucked away from the main streets. The kind tourists don't know about, with mismatched chairs and a bartender who looks old enough to have served Caesar himself.

'Due aperol spritz, per favore.' You ask.

The bartender raises an eyebrow. 'Americano? Il tuo italiano è buono!' (your Italian was… apparently… good.)

'Peggio,' you say. 'Giornalista' 

(‘Worse. Journalist.’)

He laughs, already reaching for glasses. Karina slides onto a barstool, looking around with genuine curiosity.

‘He seems pretty impressed by your Italian.’

‘Oh trust me—he wasn’t. He just wanted to be nice. That’s all. The inflections are quite easy to catch.’

‘Alright, whatever you say. Giornalista—.'

You grin at her cute prod.

'How'd you find this place?' She asks; needless to say, she likes it here.

'Got lost my first night here––five years ago. It was either come in or keep pretending I knew where my hotel was.'

'And?'

'Woke up knowing exactly where my hotel was. And how to say "I'm sorry" in Italian.'

She laughs. 'That bad?'

'Let's just say there's a reason I stick to green tea now.'

The drinks arrive, vivid orange against the dark wood of the bar.

'To blue tongues,' you raise your glass.

'And bad Italian,' she clinks hers against it.

—

[1] The documentary in question was "Blue Planet II." Her sister still has the receipt for three boxes of tissues and a plush shark from the aquarium gift shop. The plush shark now sits in her studio, wearing a tiny version of her debut outfit. Her company has tried to mass-produce it twice. She's vetoed it both times.

[2] You were never this humble about your Italian until you talked to an Italian nonna. "Qui giace la dignità di un giornalista" (Here lies a journalist's dignity).

—

'Speaking of bad decisions—'

'We weren't.'

'We are now. Tell me about the green hair incident.'

'Absolutely not.' She takes another sip of her spritz. 'Some secrets I'm taking to my grave.'

'Come on. Half-green hair? There's got to be a story there.'

'There is. A great one. You're still not hearing it.'

'I'll trade you.'

'Oh?' She turns on her stool to face you fully. 'What could you possibly have that's worth my green hair story?'

'Remember when I said I learned to say sorry in Italian?'

'The plot thickens.'

'Let's just say it involved a fountain, three angry nuns, and a very patient carabinieri.'

She nearly chokes on her drink. 'You're making that up.'

'Want to bet your green hair story on it?'

'You know what?' She signals the bartender for another round. 'Fine. But if you're lying, you're buying drinks for the rest of the night.'

'Deal.'

'And no taking notes.'

'Now that's just cruel.'

'Professional hazard,' she mimics your earlier tone, then grins. 'Okay, storyteller. Dazzle me.'

The bartender sets down fresh drinks, and you lean in conspiratorially. 'So picture this: my first night in Rome, about five years ago...'

'Wait.' She holds up a hand. 'We need to establish stakes. If this story doesn't involve all three elements—fountain, nuns, and police—you're not only buying drinks, you're telling me where you actually learned to say sorry in Italian.'

'Counter-offer. If my story checks out, I get the green hair story plus whatever happened at that music show in Busan.'

Her eyes narrow. 'What music show in Busan?'

'The one you just reacted to.'

'That's... that's actually impressive.'

'Five years of professional nosiness at work. Deal?'

She clinks her glass against yours. 'Deal. Now stop stalling.'

'Right. So. Five years ago. I'd just finished an interview with this ancient countess at the bar. I mean, it’s the bar. Who else gets to interview a countess at a bar? That’s like crazy Bourdain-level shit right there.’

She nods along. 'Of course you did.'

'Anyway, she invited me to this wine cellar...'

'Oh no.'

'Oh yes. And mind you, I was already quite drunk. And she was very, very insistent about hospitality...'

Twenty minutes and much laughter later, you finish: '...and that's why you should never trust Google Translate to help you apologize to Italian law enforcement.'

She's wiping tears from her eyes. 'The part with the cat—'

'Hand to god. Still have the scars.'

'Okay.' She catches her breath. 'Okay, you win. That was worth it.'

'Time to pay up. Green hair. Spill.'

'Can I have one more drink first?'

'For courage?'

'So I can blame it on the drink.' She waves at the bartender. 'I still can't believe you showed those nuns your interview notes to prove you weren't a street performer.'

'Desperate times.'

'Speaking of desperate...' She takes a fortifying sip of her fresh spritz. 'Ever tried to fix green hair with grape juice?'

'No.'

'Don't.'

'There has to be more to this story than grape juice.'

'Oh, there's so much more.' She settles into her seat. 'Picture this: it's two hours before a live broadcast. I'm sitting in the makeup chair, feeling pretty good about life. You know, like that particular moment where your face just… shines. Then my stylist walks in, takes one look at my hair, and just... screams.'

'Screams?'

'Full horror movie scream. Turns out the hair dye we used was... let's say "not exactly approved by management."'

'Let me guess. DIY job?'

'Worse. My sister's friend's cousin who "totally went to beauty school."'

'Oh no.' You snort, taking a hefty drink of the remaining spritz.

'Oh yes. So there I am, one side of my head this bizarre shade of swamp-thing green, and everyone's running around like it's the end of the world.'

'Which is when someone suggested grape juice?'

'Actually, that was my idea.' She grimaces. 'I'd read somewhere that grape juice could neutralize green tones. What they failed to mention was that this works for swimming pools, not hair.' [1]

'So what happened?'

'Picture a very expensive wig, three cans of dry shampoo, and me trying to explain to the camera director why I couldn't turn my head to the left.'

'Did it work?'

'Define "work."' She takes another sip. 'If by "work" you mean "did I make it through the broadcast without anyone seeing the grape-juice-tinged disaster," then yes. If by "work" you mean "did I maintain any dignity," then absolutely not.'

'The fans never found out?'

'Oh, they did. Someone leaked a backstage photo three months later.' She grins. 'By then I'd managed to fix it. Mostly.'

'Mostly?'

'My sister still has a strand of green hair she saved. Threatens to post it whenever I don't answer her calls.'

'Effective.'

'Terrifying.' She raises her glass. 'Your turn again. What's the worst interview you've ever done?'

'Besides this one?'

She kicks your chair. 'I'm delightful and you know it.'

'You're something, all right.'

Three drinks in, and the bar's emptied enough that her laugh echoes a little too loudly. She covers her mouth, but it's too late – the old bartender shoots them an amused look.

'Sorry,' she stage-whispers.

'For what? The laugh or the fact that it just shattered three ancient Roman wine glasses?'

'Shut up.' She kicks your chair again. 'I don't always laugh like that.'

'Let me guess – there's a public laugh and a private laugh?'

'There's a whole taxonomy.' She sits up straighter, counting on her fingers. 'Interview laugh, variety show laugh, fan meeting laugh, oh-that's-not-actually-funny-but-you're-my-sunbae laugh—'

'Please tell me you're joking.'

'I wish.' She slumps forward, head on her arms. 'I once had to attend a laughing seminar.'

'A what now?'

'A laughing seminar. Professional instruction on the art of the public giggle.' Her voice is muffled against her sleeve. 'There was a PowerPoint and everything.'

'You're making this up.'

She lifts her head. 'I spent three hours learning about laugh-adjacent breathing techniques while a woman named Mrs. Kim hit a triangle every time someone laughed "inappropriately."'

You stare at her. She stares back.

'That's the most horrifying thing I've ever heard,' you say finally.

'I know.' She dissolves into another too-loud laugh, this one definitely not seminar-approved. 'God, I can still hear that triangle.'

'Is that why you're here?'

'Getting drunk with a biographer in Rome? No, that's just poor life choices.'

'Speaking honest truths to a stranger?'

'Oh.' She straightens up, but there's still something loose in her smile. 'Maybe. Or maybe I just really needed to tell someone about Mrs. Kim and her triangle of terror.'

'Triangle of terror.' You shake your head. 'That's going in the book.'

'Along with the blue tongue and green hair? You're really painting a picture here.'

'It's called character development.'

'It's called character assassination.' She signals for water. 'What else are you putting in there?'

'Wouldn't you like to know.'

'Actually, yes. That's literally why I'm asking.'

'Fine.' You pretend to flip through your mental notes. 'Chapter One: Sharks and Empathy—'

'Oh my god.'

'Chapter Two: The Grape Juice Incident—'

'I'm starting to regret everything.'

'Chapter Three: Laugh Taxonomies by Aespa’s Karina—'

'I hate you.'

'Chapter Four: Why Romans Don't Trust Her With Fountains Anymore—'

'That was you! That was literally your story!'

'Was it? Everything's getting a bit fuzzy.' You tap your temple. 'Must be all that professional memory I was bragging about earlier.'

She throws an olive at you. The bartender clears his throat.

'Sorry,' you both say in unison, then look at each other and start laughing again.

'You know what's really funny?' she says, once you've both contained yourselves.

'Mrs. Kim's triangle?'

'Besides that.' She accepts the water from the bartender. 'This is probably the worst interview you've ever done.'

'Oh, definitely.'

'And yet...'

'And yet?'

'It's the most honest one I've given.' She pauses. 'God, that sounded way less cheesy in my head. Must be the spritz talking.'

'Blame it on the altitude.'

'We're at sea level.'

'Blame it on the sea level.'

'You're ridiculous.' She's grinning though. 'Is this how all your interviews go?'

'Usually there's less gelato. More gravitas.'

'Gravitas is overrated.'

'Says the woman who attended a laughing seminar.'

'Hey, I'll have you know my triangle-approved giggle is very dignified.'

'Prove it.'

She sits up straighter, arranges her features into something serene, and lets out the most artificial laugh you've ever heard. It's so pristine it's almost disturbing.

'That was horrifying.'

'That was three hours of professional training.'

'I'm concerned about your profession.'

'Join the club.' She relaxes back into her natural posture. 'We have meetings every Tuesday. Bring your own triangle.'

The bartender slides over the check with a knowing look. Last call came and went without either of you noticing.

'Well,' you say, reaching for your wallet. 'I suppose this is—'

'Wait.' She puts her hand on your arm. 'I have a confession.'

'Another one? The green hair wasn't enough?'

'I read your book.'

'Which one?'

'The one about the ballet dancer who quit to become a motorcycle mechanic.'

'Ah.' You sit back. 'And?'

'And I maybe, possibly, completely changed my mind about this whole interview when I read it.'

'Because?'

'Because...' She fidgets with her empty glass. 'You made her sound so... human.'

'As opposed to?'

'A story. A headline.' She traces a pattern on the bar top. 'Most people would've written about the scandal, the career she "threw away." But you wrote about how she names each motorcycle she fixes. How she still dances in her garage at midnight.'

'Ah. That.'

'That.' She looks up. 'Is that why you haven't asked me about any of it?'

'Any of what?'

'Don't play dumb. The headlines. The speculation. The—'

'The triangle-approved responses you've probably rehearsed?'

She laughs, caught. 'Something like that.'

'Here's the thing about headlines.' You start gathering your things. 'They're usually more interesting than the truth.'

'And what's the truth?'

'That sometimes people just want to eat blue gelato and tell embarrassing stories in a bar and talk a biographer’s ears off.'

She kicks your chair again, barely noticeable. 'Even if those stories end up in a book?'

'Especially then.' You stand, offering her jacket. 'Though I might need you to sign a waiver about the grape juice incident.'

'I knew it! You are using it!'

'Chapter title: "The Perils of Amateur Chemistry: A Cautionary Tale."'

She shrugs on her jacket, shaking her head. 'You're impossible. That AI flair was so intentional'

'Says the woman who legitimately attended a laughing seminar.'

'I'm never living that down, am I?'

'Not as long as I have a functioning memory and a publishing contract.'

The Roman night is warm as you both step out of the bar. She stumbles slightly on the cobblestones.

You offer a hand which she quickly grabs.

'Don't you dare put that in the book,' she warns.

'Put what? The graceful interpretation of contemporary dance you just performed?'

'These streets are rigged.' She steadies herself. 'Also, your hotel's this way.'

'How do you know where my hotel is?' You’re not exactly one to remember locations, probably the reason you were able to gain such a repository of ridiculous stories.

'Because it's my hotel.' She grins at your expression. 'What? You think you're the only one who does research?'

'I'm concerned about your stalking tendencies.'

'Says the person who somehow knew about the Busan incident.'

'Professional hazard.'

'You really need new catchphrases.'

The walk is quiet, comfortable. Rome at night feels like a different city—all golden lights and shadow play. A cat watches you pass from its perch on a window sill.

'Don't even think about it,' she says.

'About what?'

'Making some poetic comparison between me and that cat.'

'Please. I'm a much better writer than that.'

'Sure you are, shark whisperer.'

You reach the hotel entrance. She pauses.

'Well,' she says. 'This has been...'

'Professionally catastrophic?'

'I was going to say enlightening.'

'That too.'

The hotel lobby is all marble and soft lighting. Your footsteps echo slightly.

'I have a balcony,' she says suddenly. 'And a really pretentious coffee machine I can't figure out.'

'Is this a cry for help with appliances?' 

'This is...' She fidgets with her room key. 'This is me not wanting the interview to end yet.'

'The interview ended somewhere between blue gelato and the triangle story.'

'Then what's this?'

‘Believe or not, some people just like having fun on their Italian vacation.’

‘Haha. Very funny.’

'This is...' You pretend to consider. 'Two people who might be friends if one of them wasn't writing a book about the other.'

'Complicated.'

'Professional hazard.'

'There's that phrase again.' She presses the elevator button. 'Come on. I'll teach you how to laugh properly.'

'With or without the triangle?'

She steps into the elevator. 'Depends on how good you are at making coffee.'

'Now who's the impossible one?'

The doors start to close. She holds them.

'Coming?'

You join her in the elevator. 'For the record, I'm excellent at coffee.'

'For the record,' she mimics your tone, 'that's going in the book.'

Her room is on the top floor, with a view that makes you understand why people write poetry about Rome.

'So,' she says, fighting with the coffee machine. 'This button makes it angry, and this one makes it hiss.'

'Move over, amateur.' You reach around her to press a combination of buttons. The machine purrs to life.

'Show off.' But she's smiling as she heads for the balcony. 'Bring your coffee wizardry out here when it's ready.'

The balcony is small, just enough room for two chairs and all of Rome spread out below. She's curled up in one chair, shoes off, looking more real than she has all day.

'Your professional opinion,' she says as you hand her a cup. 'Is this going to be a good book?'

'Depends.'

'On?'

'On whether you let me keep the shark metaphors.'

She laughs into her coffee. 'You're never letting that go.'

'Never.' You take the other chair. 'Though I might be willing to negotiate.'

'Terms?'

'Tell me something nobody knows. Something that won't make the book.'

She's quiet for a moment, looking out at the city lights. 'I sing in the shower.'

'Everybody knows that.'

'No, I mean...' She turns to face you. 'I sing the old songs. The ones I used to practice when I was just some kid in Bundang with a dream too big for my voice.'

'And?'

'And sometimes I still feel like her. That kid. Especially at night, in foreign hotels, when the city feels like it belongs to someone else.'

'Especially at night, in foreign hotels, when the city feels like it belongs to someone else.'

'Wow.' You let out a low whistle. 'That was incredibly profound.'

She groans, covering her face. 'I know. I'm sorry. That was straight out of a drama script.'

'I was thinking more indie movie. You know, the kind where people have deep conversations on balconies in Rome at—' you check your watch, '—one in the morning.'

'Oh god, we're living a cliché.'

'Complete with coffee and two chairs overlooking Rome.'

'Quick,' she straightens up, 'say something unprofound. Save us from ourselves.'

'My tongue is still kind of blue.'

She peeks at you over her coffee cup. 'Mine too.'

'Better?'

'Much better.' She slouches back in her chair. 'Though now I'm thinking about how this would look in your book. "Two idiots with blue tongues have existential crisis on expensive balcony."'

'Don't forget the part where one of them somehow charmed a coffee machine.'

'And the other one used to sing in her shower.'

'Still,' you correct. 'Present tense.'

'Still,' she admits. 'But if you put that in your book, I'll have to tell everyone about your fountain incident.'

'Mutually assured destruction. I like it.'

She yawns, then looks embarrassed. 'Sorry. It's not the company, it's—'

'The five Aperol Spritzes?'

'That. And the emotional toll of remembering Mrs. Kim's triangle.'

'Tragic backstory,' you nod solemnly. 'Very character-building.'

'Speaking of character-building...' She sets down her empty cup, turns to face you fully. 'This is usually the part in your books where something significant happens.'

'Is it?'

'Mm. Chapter twelve. Always a turning point.'

'You really did read my books.'

'I told you that already.' She's closer now, somehow. 'What I didn't mention was that I figured out your pattern.'

'My pattern?'

'The way you write moments like this.' Her voice is soft. 'When everything gets quiet, and the city's just background noise, and someone's about to do something...'

'Inadvisable?'

'I was going to say brave.'

'Brave is just inadvisable with better PR.'

She laughs, barely a whisper. 'You're deflecting again.'

'Professional—'

'If you say "hazard" right now,' she cuts in, 'I'm going to throw you off this balcony.'

'That would be...'

'Inadvisable?'

'I was going to say "terrible for my book sales."'

She's definitely closer now. 'Your book sales are about to be the least of your problems.'

'Because you're going to kiss me or throw me off the balcony?'

'I haven't decided yet.'

'Well,' you murmur, 'for what it's worth, one of those options would make a much better chapter twelve.'

She closes the distance between you, smiling against your lips. 'Professional hazard.'

You and Karina shared an instant spark that neither of you had experienced. Ever. The moment that first tease left your mouth, it was over.

—

[1] The sentiment of grape juice being able to eliminate green tones turned out to be completely unfounded. Despite this, wine sommeliers around the world have complained about Koreans with their distinct accent asking about grape juice’s ability to change colors.

—

The kiss tastes like coffee and Aperol and something sweet—probably the remnants of that ridiculous blue gelato. It's soft and quiet and perfect, the kind of moment that would sound made up in a book.

She pulls back slightly. 'Your editor's going to hate this.'

'Definitely.' You tuck a strand of hair behind her ear. 'Completely unprofessional.'

'Thoroughly inadvisable.'

'Absolutely perfect for chapter twelve.'

She kisses you again, and Rome keeps existing below, indifferent to your small moment of magic. Somewhere in the distance, a church bell chimes twice.

'You know,' she whispers, 'this is usually where you'd write something profound about the city of love.'

'That's Paris.'

'Now who's deflecting?'

'Still you. But I'm starting not to mind.'

She laughs, soft and real—definitely not triangle-approved—and rests her forehead against yours, your breaths intermixing, plenty of intimate eye contact. 'Is this going in the book?'

'What do you think?'

'I think...' Her fingers find yours. 'I think some stories we get to keep for ourselves.'

'I think some stories we get to keep for ourselves.'

'Even after I charmed your coffee machine? That's cold.'

She makes a face. 'You're really bringing up coffee machine prowess right after—'

'Right after you thoroughly compromised my journalistic integrity? Yes.'

'Your journalistic integrity was compromised the moment you let me eat blue gelato.'

'My journalistic integrity was compromised the moment I saw you.' You run your thumb across her knuckles.

Her eye contact wavers and her voice falters, ‘Gosh, you’re such a player.’

‘Flirting has never come so easily before.’ You whisper against her mouth.

'Oh really?'

'Obviously.'

'Which was?'

'Stare at that blue tongue some more.’'

She shoves you lightly. 'You're terrible.'

'And yet.'

'And yet.' She settles on your lap, the forehead to forehead more natural now. 'So what happens now?'

'Well, traditionally, this is where I'd write something about dawn breaking over the eternal city—'

'Please don't.'

'—with golden light catching on ancient stones—'

'I'm begging you to stop.'

'—as two souls find each other under the Roman sky—'

She claps a hand over your mouth. 'I will literally pay you to not finish that sentence.'

You kiss her palm before she pulls it away. 'Isn't that technically bribery?'

'Add it to the list. Right after "compromised journalistic integrity" and "suspicious coffee machine expertise."'

'Speaking of compromising situations...' You glance at your watch. 'It's almost three AM.'

'Worried about your reputation?'

'Worried about your triangle-approved schedule.'

'Bold of you to assume I ever sleep.' She stands, stretching. 'Want to order terrible room service and you can tell me about all the other journalists you've scandalized?'

'That's a very short list. Very enticing regardless.’ 

'Good.' She holds out her hand.

The night air has turned cooler, carrying the faint scent of jasmine from somewhere below. Her fingers trace the collar of your shirt, hesitant but deliberate.

'What happened to room service?' you murmur.

'It can wait.' Her eyes meet yours, playful but wanting. 'I'm conducting my own interview first.'

This kiss is different from the first. Slower, more certain. The city hums below, a distant lullaby of late-night cars and echoing footsteps. When she sighs into the kiss, it's the softest sound you've ever heard. When she falters against your forceful touches, it’s the softest you’ve ever felt a woman.

She pulls back just enough to breathe, her forehead resting against yours. Her heartbeat is quick under your palm.

'Better than chapter twelve?' she whispers.

You catch her lips again in answer, feeling her smile. The wind stirs her hair, sending strands brushing against your cheek. Everything smells like jasmine and coffee and her perfume—something subtle and expensive that you'll probably spend the rest of your life over-romanticizing.

Because that’s what Karina deserves.

Rome stretches out endless and ancient around you, but all you can focus on is how perfectly she fits against you, how real she feels away from cameras and crowds.

Your lips find hers in the dark, soft and certain now. Her fingers trail up your neck, threading through your hair, pulling you closer. There's an art to the way she kisses—deliberate yet desperate, like she's trying to memorize the moment. Your hands settle at her waist, and she makes a small sound that you know you'll remember forever.

Her lips part against yours, deepening the kiss until you're both breathless. The balcony railing presses into your back—when did that happen?—and her body is warm against yours, fitting perfectly in all the spaces between.

Her teeth graze your bottom lip, teasing. You respond by trailing kisses along her jaw, feeling her pulse jump under your lips. When you find that sensitive spot just below her ear, her sharp intake of breath makes you smile against her skin.

She pulls back just enough to meet your eyes. Her lips are slightly swollen, her careful composure beautifully undone––hair spread everywhere, but just so that she looks ethereal rather than messy. You brush your thumb across her lower lip, and she catches it with her teeth, playful even now.

‘Still planning to put this in chapter twelve?’ she whispers, breathless.

Your answer gets lost somewhere between her lips and… her lips.

Her laugh vibrates against your lips when you finally break apart. ‘We should probably—’

‘Go inside?’ Your lips find the curve of her neck again.

‘I was going to say breathe.’ But her head tilts back, giving you better access. Her pulse flutters under your kiss like a trapped bird. ‘Though inside works too.’

You pull back just enough to look at her. Hair mussed, eyes bright, that perfect composure completely undone. She's never looked more beautiful than she does right now, with the city lights catching in her eyes and her professional smile nowhere to be found.

‘What?’ she asks, suddenly self-conscious.

‘Just thinking.’

‘About?’

‘How this definitely isn't going in the book.’

Her smile turns mischievous. ‘No?’ Her fingers trace patterns on your chest. ‘Not even a little mention of how you completely forgot about journalistic integrity the moment I—’

‘Then chapter 12 would entirely consist of me betraying my profession in order to catch your lips with my teeth.’

‘Wow. You’re bad. Like, real bad.’

‘You have no idea.’

You cut her off with another kiss, swallowing her laugh. Her hands slide up your chest, around your neck, pulling you impossibly closer. The world narrows to just this: her lips on yours, her body pressed against you, the soft sounds she makes when you run your fingers down her spine.

‘Inside,’ she murmurs against your mouth. ‘Before we really give Rome something to talk about.’

You let her lead you through the balcony doors, both of you stumbling slightly, unwilling to break contact. She tastes like promises now, like stories yet to be written. Her hands are everywhere—your hair, your chest, your face – like she's trying to read you by touch alone.

‘Wait,’ you manage, as her lips find that spot below your ear that makes thinking difficult. ‘What about—’

‘If you mention room service right now,’ she warns, ‘I'm going back to my original plan of throwing you off the balcony.’

‘I was going to say 'what about your triangle-approved image?'’

She pulls back, eyes dancing. ‘Oh, that?’ Her lips brush yours, teasing. ‘I think we thoroughly compromised that at the first meeting.’

"Professional hazard?"

"Shut up," she whispers, and kisses you again.

She sighs into your mouth, a soft, vulnerable sound that makes your heart stutter.

Her fingers tangle in your hair, nails scraping lightly against your scalp, sending shivers down your spine. You walk her backward until she's pressed against the wall, her body arching into yours.

You trail kisses down her neck, learning her— the spot beneath her jaw that makes her gasp, the curve where neck meets shoulder that makes her fingers tighten in your hair. Her pulse races under your lips, a rapid drumbeat that matches your own. When you find a particularly sensitive spot, her sharp intake of breath is the sweetest sound you've ever heard.

She tugs you back up to her mouth, kissing you like she's trying to tell you something words can't capture. Her lips are soft but insistent, moving against yours with a rhythm that makes you dizzy. One of her legs hooks around yours, pulling you even closer, and you groan into her mouth.

Her hands frame your face now, thumbs stroking your cheeks as she kisses you deeper, slower, like she's trying to memorize every second. You respond in kind, pouring everything you can't say into the kiss—how beautiful she is like this, how real, how perfectly she fits against you.

When you finally break apart, you're both breathing hard. Her lips are swollen. You rest your forehead against hers, sharing the same air, neither of you willing to move away.

"Still thinking about the book?" she murmurs, voice husky.

You answer by catching her lower lip between your teeth, gentle but playful, and feel her smile against your mouth.

Her smile against your mouth turns into a soft laugh. "I'll take that as a no."

‘Take it as whatever you want.’ Your lips find her temple, her cheek, the corner of her mouth. ‘I stopped thinking about the book long ago.’

She hums contentedly, her fingers tracing patterns on the nape of your neck. ‘Good.’ Her other hand is still tangled in your shirt, keeping you close. ‘Because I have a confession.’

‘Another one?’

Instead of answering, she kisses you again, slow and deep. Her tongue traces your lower lip, and you respond by pressing her further into the wall, swallowing the small sound she makes. One of her legs is still hooked around yours, and when she shifts slightly, the new angle makes you both gasp.

‘That wasn't a confession,’ you murmur against her lips.

‘No?’ Her teeth graze your earlobe. ‘I thought I was being pretty clear.’

Your hands slide to her waist, steadying her. She's intoxicating like this, all careful control abandoned, her public persona nowhere to be found.

‘Jimin,’ you breathe, and feel her shiver at the sound of her real name.

Her response is to pull you closer, kissing you like she's trying to say everything without words. Her lips are soft but certain against yours, and you lose yourself in the feeling—the warmth of her body, the subtle scent of her perfume.

The city continues its nighttime symphony outside, but in here, the only sound is your shared breathing and the soft, desperate noises she makes when you find that sensitive spot on her neck again.

She pulls back slightly, just enough to meet your eyes. In the dim light, her gaze is soft, unguarded. Her thumb traces your lower lip.

‘What?’ you ask, voice rough.

‘I'm trying to decide something.’

"Whether to throw me off the balcony? Because I thought we moved past���"

She cuts you off with another kiss. Her hands cup your face, holding you there as she explores your mouth with a thoroughness that makes you dizzy. You respond by feeling her firm and perky ass.

‘No—,’ she moans when you break apart for air. ‘I'm trying to decide if this is real.’

Instead of answering, you trail kisses down her neck, feeling her pulse jump under your lips. Her head falls back against the wall, giving you better access. When you reach her collarbone, she makes a sound that's half-sigh, half-moan.

‘Feels real enough,’ you murmur against her skin.

Her laugh is breathy, unsteady. ‘I meant—’ She gasps as you find a particularly sensitive spot. ‘I meant this. Us. This whole night.’

You lift your head to look at her. Her lips are swollen from kissing, her carefully styled hair a mess from your fingers. She's never looked more beautiful.

‘If you think I did all of this for the fun of it, you’re clearly missing something.’

‘A gear in the head?’

‘Definitely—’

‘Gosh, how do I allow this sort of petulance?’

‘Because it’s me.’

‘You’re a player.’

‘Only for you.’ You catch her lips, even more wanting—and she forfeits it all. 

You pick her up, mussing up her perfect outfit, mussing up her perfect lips. And you finally throw her against the bed.

‘You’re really roughing up Prada’s global ambassador.’

‘And ambassador to a dozen other brands worth billions—couldn’t care less.’’ 

She smirks, and her arms open, waiting, pliant, obedient.

You rip off your buttoned shirt, tear off your pants; now, there’s truly no way of going back.

‘Wow. That scar is a lot larger than I imagined.’ She’s referring back to the scar that you received during that drunk haze of a night.

‘It was dark. Might’ve even been a lion.’ 

‘Mm. Heroic. Come here.’

Now, who could ever resist that?

You rip off her clothes, each layer even more decadent than the other. And then, she was there. bra barely containing her breasts, and a layer of dampness along her sexy panties.

‘That was expensive, by the way.’

‘I’ve got a payment plan on course.’

‘Mm. Enlighten me.’

You pull her panties to the side.

She’s dripping wet, nectar spooling right on her pink core. A glorious sheen that makes you stare far longer than you should’ve. She’s red-faced at this point, and her forearms cover most of her sight, and yet, she doesn’t move, doesn’t retreat. 

The first lick you place, just a brush against her engorged clit, crumbles every self-regulated triangle-approved behavior she has. Two pants turn fifty, one lick crumbles everything. Her hips coax you in ways gymnasts can’t even replicate, and of course, you oblige.

Soft licks, teases around her outer lips, swollen from all the anticipation and arousal; tonguing at her inner lips, just at the crux of her clit, gets her screaming in ways her deep voice would never register; and above all, she’s orgasming, squirting, losing every pretense in favor of her built up lust. 

‘Oh~fuck—’

Her fingers find purchase in your hair, and she softly pulls you in—rides your face like it was all that she ever desired: her eternal wish.

‘Ohmygod! Imcumming!’ Her voice turns mousy, and her pupils go back in pure pleasure, coupled with hip movements thought impossible: this was the greatest pleasure of her life.

You grab her chin, squeeze softly, her cheeks molding to your grasp, and you press a soft kiss right on her kiss-bruised lips. You let her taste herself on your tongue.

‘Good. Right?’

And she nods. A complete personality switch from the playfulness she displayed earlier. Delicate.

Her hands land on your boxers as she melted into your kiss. Once you felt her palm your cock, you groaned right in her ear. She starts softly, stroking. But her strokes grow more all-encompassing as you press harder into the kiss.

‘Fuck. You’re so good for me.’

She mewls back, on the gradient slide of unadulterated pleasure.

Softly, you release your shaft from the boxer. And you press your cock right on her core. Feeling the wet heat, the sticky nectar that pooled to a mindbreaking degree. 

‘It goes without saying.’

‘That I’m head over heels for you?’

You grin, ‘Well, that too, but you’re hopeless.’

‘Maybe if we weren’t so compatible.’

You grab a breast, palming it, ‘Well that, that too, goes without saying.’

She smiles, so warmly, every trace of everything else melted off her face––the sort of smile you’d never forget, and the sort of smile you’d want to wake up to… forever.

Finally, you press into her, and her wet heat envelops you, enough to make you groan, enough to make her moan like there’s no greater pleasure––because really, there’s nothing else.

Her pussy clings onto you, a wet suction that is immeasurably soft and yet, a vacuum-seal-like tightness that gets you groaning after every thrust.

Her arms cling to you, and her eyebrows knit, her small face full of emotion—all of it processing how good you fuck her.

‘Oh god. Would it be bad that I want you to declare to the world that you own me?”

‘Chapter 12—’

She cuts you off, ‘Something along the lines of: “Chapter 12: Karina is my fuckslut”’ 

‘I don’t tolerate Karina disrespect.’ You say, truthfully.

‘Even if it’s by myself?’

‘Especially for that case, sweetheart.’

‘Oh… you’re too good.’

‘You’re blind.’

Most popular idol in the world, and… she’s hopelessly down bad for you.

‘If I’m blind. Then you don’t have eyes—complete darkness.’

‘We’re two of the same.’

‘I’m your biggest fan.’

‘We’re two of the same.’

‘I love you.’

‘You have a way with words, Karina.’ You reply, pressing soft kisses along her jaw, whispering sweet nothings into her ear, thrusting into her harder, sharing breaths.

‘You’ve inspired me.’

And you lock lips with her, the thrusts were becoming a blur, and her moans music to your ears—it was all just… heaven.

There was no technique. Nothing too purposeful. It was all just pure affection, pure love guiding all your actions. And the fact that she’s cumming again was no coincidence.

‘Oh. My. Fucking. God!’ Her head goes back deep into the pillow and you follow suit. Pressing soft kisses that covered every square centimeter of her beauty, kisses that made her giggle even in her most orgasmic moment of her life. 

‘If I knew anything that felt like this… I’d be doing it constantly.’

‘Well—’

‘That’s right,’ Karina gives a soft peck, ‘I have you now.’ 

You could feel her heartbeat, her skin precipitate, and her cunt pulse—it’s just heaven at this point. 

‘Are you trying to convince me to follow you?’

‘2 years, finest in New York.’

‘Deal. Though you overbid a little.’

‘Meaning?’

‘Means anything you want, dear.’

The soft slick of her cunt made it nearly frictionless, just pure pleasure for both parties. Her hips gave way every time, an identity of its own, retreating when you thrust too hard, giving in when softer.’

‘Is this like a sugar mommy situation?’

‘Two words I never expected you to say.’ You both share a laugh.

‘I mean that’s what it is right?’

‘A power imbalance? Please. I can get you to buy a New York penthouse for me at this point.’

‘Well. You’re right. But—’

You bring your cock to the hilt inside of her, whilst stealing her lips for a deep kiss. She moans and mewls and gasps—music to your ears. You change positions. You bring her legs to your shoulders, and you begin kissing along her ankle while thrusting inside of her.

This time, you can see the full view. How her breasts bounce against the thrusts, how her slick has completely covered your entire length at this point, and how beautifully her face is framed between it all. 

Her mouth’s agape, moaning, giggling intermittently with the jokes shared through eye contact. You bite softly at her ankle then down her legs, to her calves, then releasing her legs altogether to kiss her again.

She fits perfectly against you, small and delicate but the perfect puzzle piece under you. She’s absorbent, aware of your needs, placing soft kisses along the ridges of your eyebrows, rubbing away the day’s fatigue along your jaw and temple. 

‘I love you.’

‘I love you too.’

‘I didn’t hear.’

You press against her, feeling her breasts spool against your chest, bring your thrust to the hilt, the wetness of her loins pressed against yours, all of them vividly apparent. ‘I love your beauty. I love your humor. I love how clever you are. I love how authentic you are. And I could continue on and on but I’m about to cum.’

Karina sniffled, ‘God, I was about to cry and then you say that.’ She softly smacks your shoulder, ‘just cum inside me and let’s cuddle.’

You oblige, the thrusts turn into a haze of pure pleasure, a desperate moment chasing the local maxima, and finally, you burst inside of her. Cum spooled, all inside her, and she moans so gracefully, staring at you with all the affection in the world.

‘We can worry about this tomorrow.’ She palmed your jaw.

‘Of course.’ You fall onto her, cuddling her.

Both of you are a mess, gross, bodily fluids spread everywhere, and yet, the both of you fell into a deep slumber.

A/N: I'd like to apologize for switching up styles so much (But if you enjoyed this dialogue-heavy work, then lmk!)

[iamred-iamyellow]

⋆ ˚｡⋆౨ৎ˚ Think Fast, You Only Get One Try - [Part 1]

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♥ series masterlist | main masterlist

♥ pairing: lando norris x fem!reader

♥ chapter one synopsis: after almost two months it was finally time to tell lando about your daughter.

♥ smau + written - fc: girls on pinterest - none of the pictures are mine

♥ warnings: swearing !!!

♥ a/n: thank you so much for almost 400 followers and 1k+ notes on the intro <3 i really hope this part 1 lives up to your expectations! The next parts will have more smau and will ideally be longer (I just had to get the plot rolling with this first chapter lol)

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yourusername vroom vroom

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˖ . ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁‧₊˚ . ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁˖

You knocked on Lando’s penthouse apartment door, knowing there was no going back now. Bless your sister for being able to find where he lives in just a couple of minutes on the internet.

The man who opened the door wasn’t Lando, but Max Fewtrell. His gaze narrowed.

“Who are you?”

“I’m not sure if you remember me... but I met you and Lando at a club in Melbourne last year.”

His eyes saccaded between you and the baby you were holding.

"Lando," he shouted from the doorway. "Stay here. I'll go get him."

Max made his way to one of Lando's rooms, where he was talking to Oscar.

"There's a woman here to see you," he paused. "With a baby. She said she knew you from Melbourne last year."

Lando got up quickly and made his way to the front door. Once he got there, he stared at you and your daughter.

You nodded. "Her name is Camila."

He held his arms out, silently asking to hold her. After you handed Camila to him, he gently rocked her in his arms.

"Come in."

-

You had a very long conversation on the couch with Lando as his two friends eavesdropped from the hallway. They didn't even bother going into another room and closing the door.

"I want to be a part of her life, if that's okay with you?"

You nodded. "Could you start tomorrow?"

"What?" Lando blinked at you.

"My sitter quit, and I have work tomorrow. I checked your race calendar; you just got back from Japan and don't have to go to Shanghai until next week."

"Yeah, but I still have sim and training and-"

"You better hope your physical therapist knows how to rock a baby to sleep then," you said sternly.

"I can help if you want," Oscar piped up. "With Max and I, I'm sure you'll be able to spend some time with your daughter."

You smiled at Oscar. "I'll be leaving you in charge."

That statement elicited an eye roll out of Lando.

He shifted his gaze from Camila to you. "Alright, yeah, I'll take care of her for the next few days."

"Thank you," you placed a hand on his shoulder. "I'll drop her off tomorrow at 10?"

˖ . ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁‧₊˚ . ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁˖

-The Next Day-

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oscarpiastri babysitting duty

view comments

user7 who's baby?

user3 oscar would be such a cute girl dad

lilyzniemer I agree

user1 🥹

user5 AWWW

user8 that should be me 😔

user2 holding your hand

user9 that should be me

user4 making you laugh

user12 you and lily are so cute :(

˖ . ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁‧₊˚ . ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁˖

-first is lando's phone, second is yours-

˖ . ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁‧₊˚ . ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁˖

-A Week Later-

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landonorris life lately

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user7 Shanghai is soooo pretty

user9 so glad china back on the calendar

oscarpiastri proof that instagram is fake

maxfewtrell he's forgetting about sm REALLY important in his "life lately"

user8 ???

user2 @/oscarpiastri @/maxfewtrell what do you know

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[christina-tiara]

Christina Tiara’s Sissy Favorites!

As you know, I’m a pretty big sissy 💕 so this year I wanted to show you my sissy favorites in hopes you find something new you like!

First up is some of my favorite sissy captions on Tumblr! In no order!

1. @sissymissyxo - Missy’s blog makes me want to fag out with every caption 🫦

2. @celebritytgcaptions Love the longer captioned stories and I’ve submitted to Sissy Confessions multiple times! 🥰

3. @workdatbussy When I’m riding my dildo these are the captions I read! 🥵

4. @megatremendouslysissycollection Has the best gif choice and some of the gayest caps on here! 😋

5. Last but not least all my sissy sisters in @queendestiny6912 Harem. @sissyloren @bambimandi @incognitoelizabeth @goodwitchkylie @andrearose96 @karlie-xox @xxsissycaitlynxx @cutieecassie

I enjoy other Sissy Media too! Here are my 5 favorite Sissy Comics I’ve read! Just keep in mind, my preferences revolve around feminization, degradation and really anything sissy! You can find these on paid sites like Lustomic, but if you google any of these + the word Forum, then you can probably find them for free.

1. Slutistas 1-4 - all four installments are pretty similar. 3 guys are force feminized over night and trained to be sex slaves. 2 are usually traditional hot girls, while the other member of the group has a more extreme feminization. The third transformation can be hit or miss but the other 2 are always great!

2. Sissy Show by Nite Q - Nite Q has a bunch of great comics, with less extreme feminization as something like Slutistas. They definitely nail down the sissy fetish though. ‘Sissy Show’ is the culmination of a bunch of stories and brings the sissies to compete for the title of “Miss Sissy”. I would kill to be in this competition!

3. Kitty Kat Lounge Part 1 & 2 - In part 1 a man is transformed into Brandi the newest Kitten working at the club! In part 2 her friend gets a similar treatment! Working at a club like this is definitely a huge fantasy of mine and this is a great way to experience it second hand!

4. Sissy Porn Star by Victor Serra - Currently this has 3 parts all super hot. Essentially a guy is forced to be a sissy porn star to help him and his wife pay the bills. Really hot art and every sissy wants to be Lollipop! Also would recommend Victor’s Dear Gabby series!

5. Queens by Bea - Bea has made some of my favorite comics from Franny to Sweet Dreams Sissy. Always a big focus on the feminization process which I love! Queens is fun because it shows two sissies, one being feminized by a sweet caring mistress, while the other is feminized by a sadistic mistress! Really hot read with 3 parts as well!

I could talk about comics for hours! But let me know what you recommend!

Next I’d love to talk about my favorite sissy stories or smut! I find most of it on Literotica but open to reading elsewhere!

1. Masculinity Lost by Cdslavejessie - Follows a college guy who is force feminized by his ex gf. Story moves fast and has 36 chapters. Currently ongoing but is very promising! You’ll love it if you like sissy stories focused not only on sex, but on emasculating the sissy!

2. Jack and Jill by Emory Ahlberg - Jack is kidnapped and brought to a secret island to be feminized. Really in depth on the feminization aspect and you really care for the characters. It’s ongoing and has 9 phases with like 15 chapters each. Personally a bigger fan of Nikki in the spin-off Half Sisters but you have to read this first! Technically could be a comic since it has art, but it’s long enough to call a story! Also isn’t on Literotica but Emory has a Patreon (that I sub to) or there’s forums who are a few Chapters behind.

3. College Chronicles by Smutwriter238 - this follows a college freshmen Sam who is transformed into Sami. Really hot sex scenes with one of the hottest guys I’ve ready about in these stories. This hits my feminization kink along with my degradation kink. 20 good length chapters so far!

4. Neighbourhood Terror to Sissy by Fibaro - essentially a guy gets transformed into a sissy by his neighbor. The way he goes about feminizing him is so methodical, it really gives me Trapped and Trained vibes, which is a sissy classic!

5. Big U Cheer Sissies - This is a selfish pick because I can’t find it anywhere anymore, but it was the best sissy story I’ve ever read. A group of freshmen get transformed into cheer sissies and are fucked and feminized beyond belief. If anyone has this story let me know, I miss reading it 😢

Now for the spiciest section! My favorite sissy porn videos! Again if you search the titles you’ll find them! If I link stuff Tumblr will take me down 😅

1. Ella Hollywood Gangbang Sissy - it’s on Spankbank. Ella fucks a ton of guys but what I love is their outfit and how she has condoms full of cum tied to it!

2. Sissy Crossdresser Mariah Love Gets Fucked Raw Uncut - Super hot video! She sucks his bbc so well. I’d give anything to switch places with her!

3. Obedient TS Maid Does What She is Told - Lily Demure is a submissive sissy maid who sucks on command and takes one of the hottest fuckings I’ve seen.

4. Ella Hollywood and Natalie Mars Feminized - love the dynamic of the new sissy being brought home by the mistresses and Natalie wants to proves she’s still the bigger slut.

5. Hailey Doll gets both her holes ruined by BBC - Hailey is supported by her mistress as she sucks and fucks and amazing BBC in the cutest pink outfit!

If you’ve gotten this far, thank you for reading and I hope you can find something you like!! And thank you for all 7,000 of you who follow my blog! Next year I plan on being an even bigger sissy and I hope you come along for the ride!

And if you ever wanted to put a face to the blog this is me 💞 have a great 2025 Sissies!

[cressidagrey]

Stars all aligned - Chapter 1

Summary:

If there was one thing that both Azriel and Zahra Archeron had in common, it was that they were both very good at blending into the background.

They just never thought that their family were going to be the ones who never saw them at all.

Warning:

Bashing of like...every IC member? I think Rhys gets the worst though, definitely disordered eating, kinda depression?, isolation

(Lovely dividers thanks to @sweetmelodygraphics)

He found her deep inside the House of Wind. Far enough from the festivities of Starfall that it was startling to find her.

The second oldest Archeron Sister must have wandered off just like he had.

“Why aren’t you dancing?” Azriel asked her as he spied her sitting in a puddle of her skirts on one of the couches, staring at the empty fireplace.

“Why aren’t you?” Zahra gave back drily, not even looking up at him.

What exactly was he supposed to answer to that? Oh, I can't stomach watching your sister dance with her mate? And even if I could stomach that, Rhys's mental commentary to him about it had turned his stomach. Even when Azriel had kept away from Elain just like Rhysand had ordered him to do, ever since last year. So really...what was he supposed to answer?

“Dancing isn’t exactly my favourite activity,” Azriel finally replied. It wasn’t a lie. 

"Yeah, well, mine neither," she answered with a shrug. "Not that I ever learned."

"You never learned?" he asked surprised. Nesta had learned. Elain had learned.

"Bastard, remember?" Zahra said drily. "I am lucky that I got to learn how to read and write and do basic math. I was not going to be molded into a perfect lady, because no self-respecting man would marry me anyway."

The blunt way Zahra was talking stunned Azriel momentarily. There was something harsh, something almost...bitter and resentful in her voice as she spoke.

It seemed like it didn't matter if one was born a bastard in Illyria or the Human lands. It was horrible either way.

"Your sisters will miss you," he said instead quietly. "And you'll miss the spectacle."

"I don't really care for the festivities," she said with another shrug. "I don’t like the holidays. Humans don’t have any. We… they are too busy trying to survive," Zahra corrected herself quietly. "And besides, I am only here anyway so I don't end up being an indentured servant until some of you decide that I am back in your good graces,” she gave back caustically.

He grimaced. That Zahra had vehemently disagreed about their treatment of Nesta was well known.

It had surprised him too because it was just as just as well known that Nesta seemed to not care for her half-sister on a good day. They weren't particularly close, in any way, shape or form.

Something in his chest clenched painfully. Not from the insult she threw in his direction, but from the defeated way she said it. That she thought that they would just…toss her aside like that.

She was one of them.

"We won't," he said firmly. Her eyes slowly turned toward him and there were dark shadows in those eyes. Out of all the Archeron Sisters, she was the only one with green eyes. Azriel wondered if she had inherited them from her late mother.

Zahra was only the half-sister after all. The result of her father’s dalliance with a maid. Her age put her somewhere between Nesta and Elain. 

It was easy enough to pick out the differences between Nesta, Elain and Feyre and Zahra. Dark hair similar to Elain’s, but green eyes. Skin a few shades darker than any of theirs. Lips that looked like Feyre’s but a nose that looked like none of her sisters. 

Zahra seemed to belong but didn’t. 

And right now, these green eyes…something was wrong. Something was off with these eyes. 

"You don’t know that," she said with a humourless laugh. "Do you want to lie to me too, and  tell me that Rhysand has nothing to do with whatever happened between Elain and you?"

Azriel stiffened, a low sound escaping his throat. She knew. She knew.

"How did you-" he croaked hoarsely and Zahra cocked an eyebrow at him.

 "Do you really think that I hadn't noticed the two of you dancing around each other for months? Or the fact that you two can barely manage to be in the same room together?" she asked dryly and Azriel averted his gaze.  "There is no one as beautiful and kind as my sister," Zahra said drily. "I don't fault you for falling for her."

Azriel said nothing, the pain in his chest growing at her words. The pain...and the bitter realization that his feelings were not as well-hidden as he had thought they were. 

"It doesn't matter," he said quietly. "She has a mate. She deserves better than me anyway."

"Did Rhysand tell you that too?" Zahra said drily. "You never tried to hide the fact that your mate was dying from the same, so you have that on him."

Azriel gritted his teeth, the pain in his chest becoming almost unbearable. "It doesn’t matter," he repeated firmly, the words tasting like ash in his mouth. "Elain is happy. I would do nothing to put that in danger." 

"Yes, she is," Zahra agreed. "For what it's worth, I am sorry," she apologised to him, her voice honest.

Azriel swallowed, the pain in his chest lessening only to be replaced by something else. Something...much more complicated. Something like…pity.

He pitied her. This young female was so full of bitterness. He couldn’t even fault her for it either. She had been just a bastard. Even when they had first met the Archeron Sisters…Zahra had been working in the household as a maid. Half employee, half part of the family. Like their father couldn’t make up his mind what he should do with his bastard daughter. 

"You don't have anything to apologise for," Azriel finally told her quietly. "Do you really not want to watch?" he asked her. "You are supposed to wish for something when you see the stars fall."

She snorted, the sound bitter. "What I want, I am never going to get," Zahra said, her voice brittle.

He took her in in more detail at that moment.

The simple green gown she wore, high necked and long sleeved...that long gown that did little to hide how thing she was. The dark brown hair, pulled into a braid, obviously trying to hide the pointed tips of her ears and failing...the way her skin, darker than all of her sisters, was nearly ashen.

They had all thought that she was doing well. That Zahra at least was adjusting well.

But she wasn't. She wasn’t doing better.  She hadn't adjusted. Azriel would bet anything that all she wanted in her life was to be human again.

She hadn't adjusted. She just acted in a way that didn't bother anybody, that didn’t spell trouble for anybody.  Zahra had gotten herself a job, managing the accounting at an apothecary in the city.  She had gotten herself a little cottage to rent. She didn’t go out and get drunk. She didn’t use any money from Rhys or Feyre. She showed up for family dinners, staying quiet and polite. 

And if she was miserable…well, then nobody cared, because she didn’t bother anybody. Azriel could understand that. The same was the case for him.

Azriel clenched his jaw, watching her quietly sitting here. The way she was trying to hide away. The dress that was more like a potato sack than anything else. The way her skin was almost...grey. That bitter voice. 

The shadows were stirring and he was unable to look away from her. She looks upset, Master, they told him helpfully. 

"Do you want to go home?" Azriel offered quietly. Home to her cottage? Maybe some peace and quiet would make her feel better. 

Zahra shrugged, not looking at him. Not giving him an inch. That wall of bitterness and sarcasm was so firmly in place, that it was practically a solid wall between them. 

“Don’t want to end like an indentured servant, remember?“ she quipped drily.

“You won’t,“ Azriel said evenly. “You had a headache. I brought you home.“

She still didn’t look at him, her hands tightly knotted into her skirts as she sat there. She was so thin, almost fragile-looking. Her skin was sickly grey. “Come on,” he said finally, walking towards her.

Zahra finally looked up at him. Those green eyes. A bitter and lonely light in them. “What are you doing?“ she muttered. 

“I’m bringing you home,” he said simply, holding out his hand. “Come on, get up.“

Zahra looked at his hand, her gaze wary. “Why?“ she asked quietly. 

“Because you look like you are about to keel over,” he said, more bluntly than intended. 

“Gee, thanks,” she said dryly, her voice sarcastic and bitter. But she placed her hand into his own and let him pull her to her feet, even though he could feel the tension in her entire body. 

Azriel wrapped his arm around her shoulders, steadying her. “Come on. Let’s get you home and into bed,” he said firmly. 

He led her towards the balcony, the last few streaks of light painting the sky, and he grasped her tightly as they shout these few feet into the air until he could winnow to the cottage she rented. 

It’s ugly, the shadows complained. 

He had to agree with them. The cottage was an ugly little thing. Plain. Small. The type of thing that was more of a hovel in the outskirts, rather than anything else. 

“Home sweet home,“ Zahra said dryly, pulling away from him and a key out of her purse. 

That cottage was in serious need of some renovations when the red paint that was flaking off the door was anything to go by. 

As she unlocked the door it became obvious that while she kept it clean and neat.. even that couldn’t help much. This is a hovel, the shadows hissed.

Azriel was inclined to agree. He looked around with a frown, as the shadows scuttered around the tiny cottage. “You live here?“ he couldn’t help but ask. It was a terrible hovel indeed. 

Zahra shrugged as if she didn’t notice the disgust in his voice. “I couldn’t exactly afford anything else at first,” she said drily. 

At least not without taking any money from Rhys and Feyre, and clearly that was nothing that Zahra wanted to do. 

He was struck by how empty it all looked. There was a small kitchen space, a table with a few chairs a fireplace… And the door that led to her bedroom, he assumed. 

“How long have you lived here?“ he asked carefully, taking in the bare emptiness. There were no pictures on the walls. No trinkets and little belongings anywhere. It was…lifeless. She shrugged again and kicked off her shoes, making her way towards the bedroom. “A year?“

The room was equally simple and bare. A bed, a few clothes. A little bathing chamber. That was it. 

“You’ve lived here for over a year?“ Azriel repeated, his voice turning sharp as he looked at everything. There wasn’t even a mirror on the wall. 

When she just shrugged again, he was done. He grabbed her arm and towed her back into the main room. “Stay,” he ordered, pointing at the table and one of the two rickety chairs. 

“What are you doing?“ Zahra asked, raising both eyebrows at him. Her irritation had started to rise considerably. At least that had done something to the sickly colour of her skin. 

“Making sure you eat something before you pass out on me,” Azriel muttered, turning back into the kitchen area, looking around with a frown.

There was…nothing. His shadows reported as much. She literally had a few pieces of bread and some cheese in the whole house. He was more than fuming. That was not enough that she was living in…this hovel, she was apparently also starving herself.

He pointed at the chair again. “Sit,” he ordered a little sharper than he had intended. 

The glare she gave him did not surprise him. Zahra hated being ordered around. “No,” she said firmly, crossing her arms in front of her chest. “I’m not hungry.“

Azriel clenched his jaw, the anger flaring. How stubborn could she be? 

“You clearly haven’t eaten in days,” he said, pointing out the obvious. “You have nothing in your house to eat.” 

“I have what I need,” she retorted, her own anger flaring. Azriel gritted his teeth, the urge to snap at her almost overwhelming.

“You are skin and bones,” he hissed. “There is barely enough fat on you to keep out the cold.“ 

“Why do you care?“ she snapped right back.

The question hit him squarely in the chest. Why did he care? Why, he asked himself for a moment. Why indeed.

He wasn’t going to lie to himself and say that it was just because she was Feyre’s sister. 

Thankfully, Azriel was saved from actually having to answer, when her stomach grumbled.

Loudly. Azriel almost chuckled at the sound of her own stomach betraying just how hungry she really was. “Clearly your body disagrees with you,” he said drily. 

“Shut up,” Zahra snapped, her skin flushing at the sound of her own stomach. 

“I will shut up after you’ve eaten something,” Azriel said firmly, folding his arms across his chest.

Zahra gave him a glare that could strip the paint from the walls, (but then, the paint was already flaking off anyway). Still, she grudgingly sank down on the chair, her eyes avoiding his. 

He turned back into the kitchen, opening cupboards and drawers and found absolutely nothing. There was nothing. Not even some fruits or vegetables. 

He slammed the last cupboard closed, almost causing the hinges to break, the anger flaring hotly in his chest. That stupid, stubborn, stubborn woman.

“I will personally come here every day and stuff you full until you burst,” he snapped before he could stop himself.

“Why?” she asked and he could hear the challenge in her voice. Her own anger rose to meet his own. “Why would you even bother?“ 

“Because you are starving yourself,” he said, spinning around to face her. “Because you are so thin, I could snap you in half with one hand. Because I’m pretty damn sure you haven’t eaten a proper meal in at least a year. That’s why.“

“Maybe I don’t deserve a proper meal,” she shot back and something inside of him snapped at the tone in her voice. 

Because he knew that feeling. He knew. For just a moment he froze. They were far more similar than they should be. 

It was a terrible realization. He knew what the self-hatred and bitterness was like. He understood it far better than he wanted to.

“Nobody is going to suddenly show up and care,” he told her quietly. He saw her eyes flare at the words and he knew she got the meaning behind them instantly.

She sat there, her jaw tensed. “And what do you know about it?” she snapped, her voice bitter. 

“I know what it feels like to starve oneself,” he said calmly. “I know what it feels like to have not a single person notice or care.“

The words rang truer than they should. Her eyes widened for a moment, shock flashing through her. 

“I know what it feels like to be the one be always at the edge of the family. I know what it feels like for everybody around me to meet their mate but not me.“

The words slipped out before he could stop them. The pain he had buried so deep, deep down flaring up. The pain and loneliness and bitter realization that would never have what everyone else had.

He realized only then how much they really had in common. How similar they were. 

“I know what it feels like to be the afterthought,” he continued, unable to stop now. “I know how it feels to be shoved aside. I know how it feels to watch everyone around me find someone while I’m the one left behind.“ 

He took a step closer to where she was sitting, towering over her. “And I know how it feels to hate myself enough to deny myself the basic needs I actually have.“ 

The last words made her flinch. He was so close he could almost see the pain and guilt and bitter realization flit across her face. Her eyes were on her lap, her fingers wrapped around the edge of the table. 

“I know what it feels like to feel as if I don’t deserve to eat,” he said quietly. “Because I’m not good enough. Not worthy enough. Not deserving enough.“

He knelt down in front of her, forcing her to look at him. To meet his eyes. 

She tried to look away, but he wouldn’t let her. He wanted her to see. To understand that she wasn’t as alone as she thought. “I know what it feels like to punish myself by not giving myself what I actually need,” he said quietly. 

Her breath hitched at the last words, her eyes widening ever so slightly. She was listening. Really listening to what he said.

“You’re not the only one who hates yourself, you know,” he said quietly. The look in her eyes shattered him. The look of realisation. Of bitter understanding. The realization that they were so much more similar than either of them had thought before.

Zahra bit her lip, the guilt flashing across her face. Her hands started trembling, ever so slightly.

“You don’t deserve to go hungry,” he said quietly, his voice firm and quiet. “You don’t deserve to starve yourself. You don’t deserve to live in this… hovel.

“The cauldron should just have killed me,” Zara said her voice brittle. “I don’t like this life.”

And didn’t that break his fucking heart? 

She laughed bitterly, but there was no humour in it. “I’m not even surviving,” she said, a bitter smile on her thin lips. “I’m existing. There is a difference.“ 

The words hit him hard. She was right. She didn’t survive, she just existed. There was a difference and a huge one at that. “Then stop just existing,” he said quietly.

His hand was still cupping her cheek, his thumb stroking gently over her skin. 

“Says the guy that just keeps moping around,” she quipped.

It was a low blow but also true. Azriel’s jaw tensed at the comment. “I don’t mope,” he bit. “I just..“

He didn’t really have a good argument in his defence at the moment. 

He sighed. “We should both stop rotting away,” he said drily.

“Yeah, well, that’s easy to you to say,” Zahra said and he could hear the bitterness in her voice. 

“Eat your cheese,” he responded.

She rolled her eyes and snatched away the slice of cheese off the table. “Happy now?“ she muttered. 

“Delighted,” he gave back drily, as he moved towards her fireplace.

“You don’t need to do that,” Zahra said quietly. “I can do that.”

“Considering you’ve been too starved to think straight, you are going to let me do this,” Azriel cut across her calmly. “You are more than likely to burn yourself.” 

“Don’t the flames bother you?” She asked him quietly. He froze.

Nobody else had ever asked him. They had just expected him to be over it by now. He had 500 years to be over it. His hands clenched.

“Yes,” he answered quietly. “They still do.” It was the honest truth. A truth he never told anyone before, least of all someone like her. The shadows curled around his shoulders and arms as if to calm him down. The flames still bothered him. They always would. “But I learnt to deal with it a long time ago,” he continued.

“That’s not fair to you,” Zahra said, her voice quiet. “You are always the one in discomfort. And nobody cares.”

Her words hit him square in the gut. It was true. It was painfully true. He was always the one being uncomfortable. Always the one on edge. It had always been expected of him to be over it by now, the pain and the hurt. The fear and the bitterness. 

He finished building the fire. Using a match to light it carefully, then closing the door quickly.

“I can deal with it,” he answered quietly. “You should go to sleep,” he advised her.

“So should you,” Zahra told him just as quietly. “You look terrible.“ He knew he looked like crap. But that didn’t matter. 

“I’m fine,” he muttered, brushing off her comment. Even though he knew it was a lie. Even though he knew they were both terrible at taking care of themselves. 

“You are a terrible liar,” she quipped. He looked at her and was surprised to see a tiny smile on her face. 

“And you��re a very stubborn, very stupid, very annoying woman,” he quipped back just as quietly. 

The smile on her face broadened the tiniest bit at the comment. “I could say the same about you,” she shot back. 

“Sleep,” he told her again.

And then he left that little cottage to get back to the House of Wind. He didn’t bother winnowing, instead, he shot up into the sky with one flap of his mighty wings. He wouldn’t be able to sleep anyway.

His mind was whirling as he flew back to the House of Wind. So much had happened in the last few hours and it was all still a lot to process.

He had always been good at keeping a rein on his thoughts and his emotions. But this time, he simply couldn’t. 

Zahra and him, always on the outskirts of their family. Ignored and expected to get on with it.

They were so similar in so many ways. It was shocking to realize just how much they actually had in common.

The loneliness and solitude he had come to live with, she had experienced herself. The pain and the bitterness, he could recognize it on her, for he had felt it himself. 

Where are you, Az? Rhys demanded at that moment mentally. Azriel would like to scratch out his eyes, but he didn’t.

I’m flying back to the House, he sent back curtly. Zahra had a headache, so I brought her home.

A headache, Rhys shot back incredulously. Azriel could almost see the look on his High Lord’s face. You really think I will buy that?

I don’t care if you believe me or not, Azriel responded icily, his temper rising already at the tone. It is the truth and I really don’t wish to have a discussion over it.

There was a pause in Rhys’ mind. Then a slight huff. You can be so unbelievably stubborn sometimes, you know that?

Azriel didn’t bother reacting to that.

Elain and Lucien are figuring things out. So keep away from her, Rhys told him sharply.

I am keeping away from her, Azriel shot back, irritation flaring. You really think I will go and ruin this for her?

I don’t know what you are up to, Rhys retorted, and Azriel knew the High Lord was irritated. But I really don’t have the time to deal with your crap right now. That’s an order.

Understood, High Lord, Azriel snarled back and he felt Rhys chuckle in his mind at the tone. I will keep away from your precious Elain, I promise. 

Damn right you will, he heard Rhys mutter in his mind and the mental connection between the two of them snapped close. 

Azriel snarled in irritation as he landed on his balcony and stalked into his room. It wasn’t enough that he was wrestling with his own emotions, No, he also had Rhys all up his ass about it. 

And he was infuriated about the whole thing.

Nobody will suddenly show up and care, he has told Zahra. It was the truth. Nobody would care.

They only cared as long as they got what they wanted from him.

Chip away the pieces they didn’t like. Mould him into a person they could stomach. 

Either it was Rhys ordering to keep away from Elain…or ordering him to behave around Mor and Emerie… and to be quite honest…Azriel was done.

It was always him that needed to bend to make everybody else comfortable. Nobody bends for him.

So many years of following orders, of keeping his mouth shut, of bottling up the anger.

Even when everyone around him was getting what they wanted. They got their happily ever after. And he was left behind.  Not once did someone ever realize that he was struggling. Not once did someone notice that he needed something…anything. That he was hurting and in pain. Nobody even bothered to check on him, to ask how he was doing. 

They all got what they wanted. Mor, Emerie, even Feyre. They all got the mate that they wanted. Rhys, Cassian and even Amren had Varian. 

He was the one always helping everyone else. Always the one having to endure everything. Never anything for himself. No love for himself.

Orders, commands, demands…that’s all it ever was. He didn’t get a say in anything. They just expected him to be fine. And if he wasn’t…he had to push through it. 

He was the tool that did whatever needed to be done. The spy that got the order to do the dirty work. The shadowsinger that just had to endure everything. 

All for scraps of attention.

Azriel was done.

He was so done. With everything. With everyone. With the one-sided affection that he had given in a desperate attempt to feel…something, anything…. 

He needed to stop expecting to get anything from them.

Zahra did not. She seemed to have given that up a very long time ago

The cold realization that they had been doing the same to her hit him. She was also the tool they used when they needed it. She may not be a spy, but they used her just the same. Expected her to be fine. 

She was alone just as much as he was. 

Alone and isolated, an afterthought to their family just as much as he was. 

***

It was quiet in the little cottage. 

Peaceful. 

Comfortable.

Sie should be happy. Or at the very least…she should be content, should she not?.

Zahra had a roof over her head. And if she wanted to…she could afford food.

Her job didn’t pay that well, but it wouldn’t leave her starving. She just wasn’t hungry. She seemingly never was.

That was a lie and she knew it. Deep down she was hungry all the time. She just refused to give in to eating. She refused to listen to her body screaming for sustenance. It didn’t matter, anyway. Nobody cared.

She didn’t care.

Something inside her had broken during her bath in that cauldron. Her humanity had burned away and with that…with that everything Zahra had ever wanted.

She didn’t crave anything anymore. Not love. Not affection. Not attention. Not food. It was all gone. All she felt was numb. 

Cold, empty and numb. Like her shell had hardened and frozen over.

She had never thought it was possible to feel so damn tired without having done anything. 

Zahra forced herself to get up. Forced herself to heat some water on the stove… to make tea. The cheapest tea she had been able to find at the market.

It wasn’t the best. The taste was bitter and the color was more brown than black. But it was tea and she was thirsty enough to drink it.

It wasn’t very warm and left a bitter aftertaste on the tongue. Like her life itself. 

Maybe just dying would have been easier, she reflected bitterly. Was this how eternity would feel? Alone? Tucked away in this cottage? 

All her sisters had been given a mating bond. They had been given another person who loved them unconditionally…that was at their side. That wanted them around. That wanted to spent time with them. 

And then there was her. 

She had been closest to Feyre during the years in that cottage. Nesta gave her the fault for seemingly everything htat had ever gone wrong in her life, though Zahra privately thought that for Nesta, Zahra was just the evidence of another of her father’s failings…Elain…well, Elain was more embarrassed than anything about Zahra’s very existence. But Feyre…well, Feyre hadn’t cared. And so Zahra had tried to dote on her as much as she could. 

And then clearly she had been replaced in Feyre’s affections. 

She didn’t fault her for that. 

Feyre had made her own life. And she had every right to do that. She was busy with her mate and her son and Mor was her best friend and…there was seemingly no place for Zahra there. 

Which was fine. 

It was. 

But if Zahra was completely honest with herself…she was unspeakably jealous of the mating bond of every single one of her sisters. 

Of that promise of at least one person that would be on her side, come Hel or High Water. 

Clearly, something was wrong with her that she hadn’t been given a Mating Bond.

She wasn’t worth a mate. Clearly, something was broken inside her. Otherwise, the cauldron would have given her a mate, right? 

Maybe she was broken so thoroughly that nobody even wanted her. 

Why would they? She was a shell of a person, a ghost of the woman she was supposed to be.

She was cold, empty and numb. Everything that nobody could possibly want. 

Everyone else got a mate, love and happiness. Not her.

She had nothing.

Her hands clenched around her lukewarm cup of tea. 

Some random sparks of light sparked against the mug. A gift from the cauldron. They didn’t seem to do anything but warm whatever they touched. Maybe that was that random power the cauldron had given her. Neither future or death…but…warmth. She supposed it was something.

She wasn’t quite sure what to do with it, and she had never bothered telling anybody about it. 

Sometimes she allowed herself to play with them when she couldn’t sleep. They were strange and utterly useless. 

It wasn’t the power of foresight or the power of a death god…no. She had the stupid power to create sparks. Useless sparks of light. 

Oh well. 

Complaining about her sparks wasn’t going to help her either. 

So she pulled out her work and sat down to do her work as the sun came up and the day went on. 

Zahra balanced the account ledgers for one of the apothecaries in Velaris. Which meant she had a whole box of receipts to sort through and put into said ledger.

One receipt at a time, one name after the other. 

It kept her busy. It paid well enough. She seemed to have some kind of aptitude for it…maybe the fact that her father was a merchant had come through for once. 

She worked until the late evening. Until her eyes couldn’t concentrate on the numbers anymore.Until her back and shoulders ached with pain. She stretched her shoulders back. 

She wondered if she should eat something. Her cheese was gone, thanks to Azriel standing over her until she ate it…but she still had one or two slices of bread, didn’t she? 

She could go food shopping…buy another bread, another chunk of cheese tomorrow. 

Then Zahra heard a knock on the door. 

Confusion spread through her. Who would knock on her door at that very late hour? It was after 9 pm already. 

She got up, walked towards the door and opened it carefully.

It was the last person she would expected to be standing on the front porch. Azriel. 

“I am making you dinner.“

Her eyes widened at that announcement. “You are what?” she asked him dumbly. 

He just gave her a deadpan look and pushed past her. “I am cooking dinner because I am assuming that you haven’t eaten yet,” he told her plainly. 

It was true. Zahra hadn’t eaten a proper meal in god knows how long. But why did he care?? “Why?” she blurted out. “Why do you care if I’ve eaten?” 

He gave her a sharp look and pushed her towards the kitchen chair. “Sit down,” he simply ordered and she was too taken aback to protest against it. 

He had brought his own ingredients. His own knives, all tucked away in a little basket that he put on her countertop. “Can you peel potatoes?” He asked her as he rummaged through it. 

She could just stare at him. 

“Who do you think cooked the meat Feyre hunted?” Zahra replied drily.

Azriel froze in the process of digging something out of the basket on the counter. “You can cook?” he asked her and she heard the surprise in his voice. 

Zahra let out a snort. “Yes, I can cook,” she retorted. “What did you think I was doing this whole time in the cottage? Twiddling my thumbs?” 

He shrugged. “Honestly, I had no idea what you were up to,” he told her truthfully.  “I thought you were as useless as Elain and Nesta were at that point,” he admitted.

“Nesta did all the cleaning and hacked the wook,” Zara corrected him quietly. “Elain mended. I cooked. Feyre was the only one who hunted. And yes, we should have done more, but I did help run the household. The only one who never helped was our father.” The bitterness bled into her voice at that. 

There was a long pause after her admission. Then Azriel exhaled. “I guess I shouldn’t be as surprised as I am,” he muttered. “You don’t strike me as a pampered useless damsel.” 

“Thank you for that assessment, Shadowsinger,” she quipped back. “I will make sure to remember it when I need a pick-me-up.” 

He put a sack of potatoes in front of her. “I take it I’m peeling potatoes,” Zahra murmured, staring at the sack that was in front of her.

“Yes,” Azriel confirmed in that no-nonsense voice of his. “While I prep the meat. I do hope you like rabbit,” he added drily.

“Oh good,” she muttered, grabbing a knife and started to peel away at the potatoes. “Did you hunt it?”

“Yes,” he confirmed, his voice neutral. Zahra bit back a snarky remark and focused on the potatoes. 

They worked like that in silence. Him preparing the meat, her peeling the potatoes and the carrots.

It was odd. This whole thing was odd. Sitting and cooking with Azriel. She hadn’t even known he could cook. 

And yet…it was comfortable. Like the silence wasn’t awkward and neither of them felt the need to break it. It was a comfortable domestic kind of silence. Like they had done this a thousand times before. 

“How are you with spicy food?” Azriel asked her after he had taken the potatoes from her. 

Zahra blinked in surprise. “I have a pretty good tolerance, why?” she asked, curious. 

“All the food I can cook is Illyrian,” Azriel answered drily. “I learned from Rhys’ mother and later from my own. It’s spicy.”

“I can handle a bit of spice,” she assured him. “It should be fine.” He nodded in response. 

The sound of the fire crackling in the stove and him stirring up the meat were the only sounds filling the kitchen as they continued their work. 

Zahra honestly had no idea Azriel could cook. He didn’t seem like the type of male who spent time cooped up in the kitchen, making meals. It was a little surprising. 

And yet, the scents of spices and rabbit were filling her kitchen right now... It smelled almost heavenly. 

She hadn’t smelled something as heavenly in a long time. And her stomach growled in response to the delicious scents of food. Zahra tried to remember when she’d last eaten something actually decent, but she couldn’t think straight. The food was distracting her.

“You look half starved,” Azriel observed in a deadpanned tone and she snapped her head up only to find him looking at her. 

His eyes were focused on her, a frown playing on his forehead. “When was the last time you actually ate something properly?” he asked her, his voice firm. 

She averted her gaze. “I don’t know,” she muttered, looking away from him and to the pot bubbling on the stove. “Maybe a week ago?” 

He was silent for a moment. “That long?” he asked her, his voice carefully neutral. She just shrugged in response to keep herself from admitting that she actually couldn’t remember exactly. 

He poured hot, thick stew into a bowl for her and then put it in front of her, holding out cutlery for her to take. “Why are you doing this?” Zahra asked him weakly.

“Because I wish somehow had done it for me,” Azriel responded

That simple statement made her blink in surprise. It was not an answer she had been expecting. She bit her lip, not really sure what to say. 

And then he simply said. “Eat. You look like you’d blow away at the slightest breeze.”

She should have been angered by that blunt statement, but somehow she wasn’t. 

So Zahra ate.

The food tasted incredibly good. She had to admit that the Shadowsinger was talented with cooking. The food was spiced just perfectly, hot and filled with flavour. 

Every bite made her realize just how incredibly hungry she was. Her stomach filled slowly and the hunger abated with every spoonful. It was like her insides started to come back to life. The numbness was slowly disappearing, replaced by an odd sort of warmth flowing through her limbs. 

"Thank you," she finally said weakly.

Azriel just nodded at her, watching her eat. “Of course,” he murmured and continued with his own food. 

[lovemaybankk]

sweet - part 1: rafe cameron x kook!reader

pairing: rafe cameron x kook!reader

read part 2 here!

inspired by lana del rey's song, "sweet" ♡

summary: growing up with your protective older brother, topper thornton, has been challenging yet comforting. until recently, have you been starting to see your older brother's friend, rafe cameron, in a new light and your relationship with him starts to change.

word count: 2,324 words

author's note: thank you so much for reading this new series!! i sincerely hope you enjoy :)

p.s. next chapter includes smut!!

warning: cursing, mostly fluff!

"topper!" you called out, your voice sharp as it bounced off the walls of your large kitchen. "topper, where are you?!" frustration bubbled up as you roamed through your house, checking room after room. the faint thrum of loud music reached your ears, pulling your attention toward the home gym.

with a deep breath, you shoved open the door to the home gym, the music instantly blasting at full volume as if it had been lying in wait.

"topper!" you yelled, your voice barely cutting through the pounding bass that seemed to vibrate the very walls.

dumbbells, resistance bands, and foam rollers were scattered across the floor and in the center of it all, topper was doing bicep curls with his dumbbells, completely immersed in his conversation with his two friends, kelce and rafe. you had absolutely no idea how they could even hear each other with that loud of music playing.

"topper!" you shouted again, louder this time. he froze mid-curl, finally noticing you, and a little startled yet annoyed at his younger sister for barging in.

"what do you want, y/n?" he barked, as though you were the one intruding.

you marched straight to the speaker and turned the volume down to a level that wouldn’t have the neighbors filing noise complaints. the music dropped to a faint hum.

behind you, kelce was pumping through incline bench presses, his grunts in rhythm with his reps. rafe, meanwhile, was bent over a barbell, effortlessly pulling through a set of deadlifts.

"are you kidding me?" you snapped, spinning around to glare at your brother. "topper, you ate my food in the fridge! that was mine!"

he rolled his eyes, tossing the dumbbells onto the floor with a loud thud. "god, y/n, relax. it’s not a big deal. i'll give you cash and you can buy another one that's freshly cooked anyways."

"you’re so selfish, you know that?" you said, folding your arms.

he snorted. "chill out, y/n. here..." he pulled out his phone in his pockets and started frantically pressing the screen. you felt a vibration in your pockets and brought your phone lit up to your face to see a notification,

"'top' sent $100"

"that should be more than enough. go get yourself snacks if you want too. whatever will make you shut the hell up."

growing up, topper had a habit of finding ways to annoy you whether it was stealing your food when he knew you’d been saving it, blasting his music in the middle of your movie nights (with yourself), and even leaving behind his messes for you to clean.

and yet, in his own way, he cared about you. like the time in elementary school when you scraped your knee during a particularly bad fall on your bike. you’d been crying, more out of frustration than pain, and instead of teasing you for being "soft," he had come back minutes later with a band-aid, your favorite snack, and an awkward pat on the back.

there were moments when he let his guard down to be a good older brother. moments when he’d pick you up from sports practice, or buy you a bag of clothes after a long day, or cover for you when you accidentally broke the vase that one summer.

since then, topper had continued to care for you in his clumsy older-brother way. sure, your parents mostly favored him but their expectations for him still existed. they expected him to excel, to lead, and to be a perfect role model for you, especially since he was (exactly two years) older. topper carried the weight of their demands, which often translated into him pestering you with the same energy he’d picked up from your parents. like now.

"why don’t you just go and hop on your bike now, huh?" he said, cracking open his water bottle as though the solution was obvious. "go grab something to eat, chill out, and leave us alone."

"it’s literally freezing outside, topper," you shot back, already regretting coming into the gym.

"you’ll be fine,” he said, smirking as he leaned back against the bench.

and before you could deliver your next scathing comeback, rafe came in, setting down his barbell with a clang. "i’ll drive her," he offered, shrugging casually as he wiped his hands on a nearby towel. "it’s too cold for a bike ride, and she looks like she’s about to bite your head off, dude."

truth be told, you’d always kind of liked rafe cameron growing up. unlike most of topper’s other friends, who barely acknowledged your existence, rafe was the one who always made an effort to be friendly. he’d always greet you when he came over, ask how school was going, and sometimes even share a laugh at topper’s expense with you.

and then there was that one memorable time, back during the ninth-grade, when you’d gotten stood up for your first high school dance. you’d spent weeks picking out the perfect dress, building up the courage to say yes when a boy you liked asked you to go. but when the night came, he’d never shown up. you had sat on the couch, trying to hide your disappointment as topper and his friends teased you about your "special night".

rafe had been different, though. he’d walked into the room, taken one look at you sitting there all dressed up, and without missing a beat, said, "i’ll take you." you’d blinked at him in response, a little stunned. "what?"

"i’ll take you to the dance," he repeated, a faint grin on his face as he shrugged. "you’ve already got the dress and everything, right? might as well go."

topper had rolled his eyes and laughed, but rafe had ignored him. twenty minutes later, he was in a suit jacket, standing by the front door, waiting for you like a proper date.

that night, he made sure you didn’t feel out of place, even though you were nervous and embarrassed at first. he’d danced with you, cracked jokes until you were smiling, and even pretended to be your date when your friends asked questions.

when the night had finally wound down, rafe hadn’t dropped you off and gone home like anyone else would. he’d offered to take you out for a late-night snack. so, the two of you had ended up at a diner near the city, picking at plates of fries and sharing stories while the neon lights flickered outside. and for a brief moment, it made you forget all the times you felt like an afterthought in your family, while your older brother was the center of attention.

that night had turned into one of those memories that stuck with you dearly. and though rafe was still the same cocky, laid-back guy, he had an empathy that maybe only you saw. and by the way, your older brother made the decision to gather himself and his friends, including rafe, to "confront" that same boy who stood you up.

topper groaned, rolling his eyes. "fine. go, whatever. just let me and kelce finish our workout in peace."

luckily, rafe was already grabbing his keys.

"c’mon," he said, his voice low but firm. "i could use the break anyway."

as you climbed into rafe’s car, you glanced around the messy interior: empty water bottles, a stray jacket, and a faint scent of mint and cologne. he turned down the music as he started the engine, his movements smooth and unhurried.

"you okay?" he asked, glancing over at you as the car warmed up along with the slightly loud noises of the air conditioning. his tone was casual, but there was an edge of sincerity in it that comforted you. "yes," you muttered. "thanks for this."

he smirked, his eyes briefly meeting yours. "don’t thank me yet. topper for sure owes me for this one."

you couldn’t help but laugh a little, the tension from earlier melting enough to make the ride bearable.

as rafe pulled into the familiar parking lot, you realized where he was taking you: the same diner you’d gone to after the dance. the neon lights flickered outside, casting a soft glow across the empty lot. a wave of nostalgia hit you, and you couldn’t help but smile at the memory of that night.

inside, the warmth of the diner greeted you, and the smell of greasy fries and fresh burgers filled the air. you both slid into a booth, and rafe didn’t waste any time before he ordered. you hesitated, but eventually chose something simple, the kind of comfort food you knew would hit the spot.

"you know, this place actually isn’t half bad," rafe said as he looked over at you, his voice light. he gave you a quick smile before shrugging.

you laughed, feeling a little lighter. "it's actually really good!"

as the food arrived, rafe handed you his jacket, noticing you shiver. "here, you look like you could use it." you blinked in surprise, but his easy, nonchalant gesture made it feel completely natural. you draped it over your shoulders, grateful for the warmth.

the ride back home was quiet, the sound of the car humming as you leaned back against the seat. the warmth from the jacket and the full stomach made your eyelids heavy, and before long, you were drifting off, your head lolling against the window.

when the car finally stopped, you felt a gentle nudge on your shoulder. "hey," rafe said softly, "we’re here."

you blinked awake, your body delaying to respond. you looked like a complete mess with a little drool coming out and your hair bunched up, but he didn’t say anything. instead, he gently slid the seat back, helping you out of the car.

before you could protest, he had already scooped you up into his arms, carrying you with surprising ease toward the front door.

"rafe, what the....?" you mumbled, still half-asleep and confused, but he didn’t answer. he just chuckled quietly and continued up the stairs to your room. when he set you down on your bed, he tucked the blanket around you, his movements careful as if he were trying not to wake you completely.

"get some sleep y/n," he said softly, pausing at the door. "you’ll need it."

your eyes fluttered closed again, the warmth of your bed and the comfort of rafe’s care wrapping around you. you barely registered when the door shut, but you knew, even if you couldn’t thank him properly, he’d done something more than just drop you off.

you felt a sudden tug at your shoulders, and your eyes slowly blinked open to find your older brother standing over you, shaking you awake.

"oh my god, what do you want, topper?!" you groaned, trying to push the blankets over your head in a futile attempt to block out the morning.

"it's 10 am y/n," he said, his voice more annoying than usual, "you remember breakfast with our grandparents, right?"

you blinked a few times, still trying to shake off the fog of sleep. the memory gradually crept back into your mind, and you groaned again, this time more out of frustration than sleepiness.

"ugh, i forgot about that," you muttered, rubbing your eyes and sitting up. "why did you have to remind me? it's too early for this."

topper shrugged, unfazed by your groggy attitude. "because mom wants us there by 11, and you know how she gets when we’re late. i also know you take forever to get ready and clearly, you're not even close to ready."

you shot him a glare, already thinking about how this day was shaping up to be like every other which was full of reminders about family obligations. "fine," you grumbled, throwing off the covers and getting out of bed. "i’ll go. but this better be worth it."

"no wonder you're so tired," he said, clearly annoyed. "i bet staying out late with rafe last night did you in, huh?"

you groaned, sitting up a little, now fully aware of the teasing tone in his voice. "it wasn’t that late," you mumbled, trying to sound convincing, but you knew he wouldn’t let it slide. "and maybe if you didn't eat my food, i would've slept at a decent time. and your friend actually had the decency to help me get that food back."

topper raised an eyebrow. "sure..." he paused and gave you a concerned look.

"and i’m not exhausted because of that, topper," you snapped, rubbing your face. "i’m just exhausted because you woke me up too early."

he let out a little laugh, walking toward the door. he shot you a teasing grin before he left. "you know, if you didn't stay up snacking with him, maybe you wouldn't be like this right now."

"you’re a pain in the ass," you muttered under your breath as he disappeared, but you couldn’t help the small chuckle that escaped. you knew he was just being his usual protective yet controlling self, and maybe, just maybe, there was a hint of concern underneath the teasing regarding his friend's relationship with his little sister.

you heard the door suddenly open again, with topper lingering by the hinge, his hand hovering over the handle. "by the way," he said, his tone still calm, "we go in thirty minutes. so be ready and at the car."

"i got it," you grumbled, not looking up from where you were half-draped over your bed.

topper didn’t wait for a response. he just turned and walked out, leaving the door wide open.

"topper, are you serious?!" you called after him, your frustration mounting. "close my door!"

but of course, he didn’t. typical of him.

you sighed in annoyance, getting up to close the door yourself. and with the door finally shut, you hurried to get ready. you took a deep breath, grabbing your belongings and heading downstairs, ready to face whatever the day had in store.

[love2write2626]

Chasing The Wind (Tyler Owens x OFC)

Summary: Five years have gone by since the life-altering storm chase that impacted Y/N and her sister Kate. Through the years Y/N has experienced Highs and lows, but eventually found her place with Tyler and The rest of the Tornado Wranglers. However, when Kate returns home to collaborate with Storm Par, Y/N attempts to mend their relationship only to be rebuffed. It appears that Kate is solely heeding Javi's words and disregarding reality. Will she be able to make Kate see the truth?

Read the Prologue here

Chapter 1

5 Years Later

“Bye Mama” I said hugging her

“Bye sweetheart, thank you for coming to visit” I smiled

“Of course, Mama” I got out of the car, and as I’m walking to the diner she yells “Y/N!” I turn around “You tell Tyler to be careful” I rolled my eyes

“We will be careful” She squinted her eyes suspiciously

“I’m telling you, if you get hurt, I am coming for him” I laughed

“Ok mom, I’ll tell him”

“That’s all I ask. Love you sweetie”

“Love you too” I waved as she drove off. I looked around the old Diner, I haven’t been here in a while. It looks pretty much the same, just a little worn down. The parking lot is full of wanna be storm chasers waiting for news of a big twister coming so they can go and take lots of pictures.

As I walk further I let out a scoff when I see Storm Par waiting in the wings. Javi and I started Storm Par and I was so excited. Then Javi brought in a new business partner and I kind of got pushed to the side, which I didn’t mind all that much at first, but when I saw the shady investors they were dealing with I packed up my stuff and left. When we started we were in the business of helping people, now It seems they are in the business of just making money.

Scott, Javi’s business partner saw me and gave me a cocky smirk before turning around and went back to his conversation.

Xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

After quickly running to the bathroom I walk back out and stop in my tracks when I see Javi, and “KATE?” I yelled. Her head snapped up and she gave me a slight smile, but didn’t seem that happy to see me. I walked over and gave her a hug, even though she didn’t return it I didn’t care

“Hey sis” Kate said “What are you doing out here? Are you still chasing?” She asked

“Yeah, You would know that If you answered my calls” I said with a laugh, she frowned

“I’m not that good with communication Y/N” I nodded, Javi walked over to us and I glared at him. This man use to be one of my best friends now I can’t stand the sight of him.

“Hey, Y/N”

“Javi” I greeted, turning my head back to Kate

“So what are you doing out here?” I asked her

“I convinced her to come out for a week, to help us get our data. You know she has the best instincts.”

“I believe I was talking to my sister, not you” I said

“Y/N, Chill” Javi said, I know my face was full of anger “Kate is in safe hands with Storm Par… you know better than anyone we have some of the best safety protocols” Kate looked in-between the two of us.

“Y/N, you chase with Storm Par? Why didn’t you tell me Javi?” She asked confused

“No, No she use to work with us, hell this company was her idea… Our baby if you will” I rolled my eyes, and let out a sarcastic laugh “Then she ditched us to go be with some less funded storm chasers”

“That’s not the full story Javi and you know it, maybe you should tell her the truth about where all the money comes from and how you are nothing but a fraud” Kate put her hand up

“Y/N stop, Javi is our friend”

“Maybe your friend, he hasn’t been mine in a long time” We were cut off by loud music coming into the parking lot, and even though I was not in a particularly good mood, I still couldn’t help but smile when I saw Tyler drive up

“Behold, Tyler Owens” Javi said

“Who is he?” Kate asked, but before I have a chance to answer Javi said

“Redneck storm chasers with a youtube channel” I rolled my eyes “Him and his group including Y/N, call themselves Tornado Wranglers. The go around and do crazy stunts and stupid shit that is going to get them all killed one day” of course he leaves out the part about how we help the community and help get people food and water, but whatever. Kate turned to me

“You left Storm Par for that”

“I did, but I’m not going to explain myself to you sis. Go ahead and believe every word out of Javi’s mouth, but when you’re ready to hear the true story you have my number” I said walking over to the truck. I pushed my way through the adoring fans, and When Tyler saw me he smiled brightly.

“ONE MORE TIME, IF YOU FEEL IT…”

“CHASE IT” everyone yelled back, He hopped down off the running board and took my hand in his.

“Hey baby” he finally said to me, I wrapped my arms around him, and he immediately hugged me back. “You ok?” he asked.

“Not really, but I’m happy you’re here” He ran his hands up and down my back

“C’mon” He said, he grabbed my hand and pulled me with him, I couldn’t help but giggle, I have no idea where we are going but I don’t care I would follow Tyler anywhere. I love this man with all my heart. He is the smartest, funniest, kindest, hottest man I have ever met in my life. He pulled me around the back of the diner, and once we were out of sight of everyone. We stopped walking.

“I have a good idea of what we are doing back here Ty, but do you wanna tell me why you dragged me back here?” I smirked. Without saying a word or breaking eye contact. He walked me back against the wall.

“You look so fucking sexy when you wear my shirts” I looked down at what I am wearing, Tyler’s shirts get torn up a lot so most of the time instead of throwing them out, I will cut them into a crop top or something, and it turns him feral. He nuzzled his face into my neck, and started leaving light kisses “I missed you, next time you are coming to Arkansas with me”

“I missed you too, and you got it” I giggled. “What?” I asked when I noticed he was staring at me.

“Nothing, just Sometimes I just like to look at you just because you are so beautiful” I frowned

“Ty” I said attempting to push him away. He knows I hate being called pretty, or beautiful because I’m not. My body is covered in horrible scars from the accident 5 years ago. My car flipped 10 times, I know I am lucky because I could be dead, but it doesn’t make it any easier. His hard strong body stopped made it easy for him to keep me pushed against the wall.

“Y/N, Baby” He whispered into my ear. I felt a shiver run down my spine “You are a fucking goddess, the most beautiful woman I have ever laid eyes on. You are beautiful, funny, smart, and a whirlwind and I love you more than anything in this world. The scars are just proof of how strong you are, in my eyes they make you 10x more beautiful than you already are.” I know I have tears in my eyes. I reach up and wrap my arms around his neck.

“I love you too, Now will you please kiss me?” he smirked, he leaned down and brought his lips to mine. I sighed into the kiss, He has been gone a week, and a week without kissing him has been torture. I felt his hands run down my back, and down to my butt. He squeezed my ass, and I broke the kiss to let out a little laugh and squeal.

“TYLER” I giggled. Without warning he immediately lifted me up, I wrapped my legs around his waist and made sure I held tight as he pushed me back against the wall and we continued to make out.

“Tyler and Y/N! Can ya’ll stop sucking face for 2 seconds so we can go chase a storm?” Boone yelled, I giggled.

“We’ll be there in a minute Boone” Tyler said. Once Boone walked away, I Jumped down and sighed.

“That was cut much shorter than I would have liked” I mumbled

“Don’t worry baby, tonight we make up for a week of no alone time” I giggled. He grabbed my hand and we started walking toward the truck. When I heard

“Y/N” I turned around and saw Kate running over to me. Tyler looked at me suspiciously, I smiled

“Go ahead I’ll be there in a second” He nodded before walking off.

“Javi just told me all about Tyler and ya’ll Tornado Wranglers” I smirked

“And?” I said waiting for her to continue

“Y/N, how could you abandon Storm Par, and Javi for that jerk. Are you sleeping with him?” I looked at her shocked.

“I see Javi didn’t tell you the truth, so don’t come over here and make me out to be some sort of bad guy. You don’t know the full story, but by all means listen to Javi and not your own sister.” I started to walk away, and she yelled.

“Javi wouldn’t lie to me” She said I nodded

“Sure he wouldn’t” I started to walk away again when I yelled back, “Oh by the way I am sleeping with Tyler by the way, it’s quite normal for women to sleep with their fiancé’s”

“You’re… you’re getting married?”

“You would have known that if you answered any of my calls” I sighed “You know sis, I don’t know what Javi did or said to get you to come back out here… but just so you know he has other motives.” I walked back toward the truck, I opened the passenger door

“Boone get in the back” Tyler said

“Why?” I sighed

“Boone get in the damn back, before I make you stay here” He grumbled and climbed in.

“Ready baby?” Tyler asked

“Always”

What do you think??? Is this worth being continued???? Leave a comment and let me know.

[nolita-fairytale]

carmen 'carmy' berzatto masterlist

Thee Carmy x Reader 'Make My Heart Surrender' Universe (In Chronological Order):

comfort & chaos (prequel to make my heart surrender)

a series of vignettes: the five times carmen berzatto fell in love with you a little and the one time he finally told you. (completed)

october 2019 | covid & carbonara | heat waves | 2/22/22** | called you again | home**

the phone call (blurb - the phone call that gets reader to chicago in the first place)

make my heart surrender

after quitting your job at the restaurant you both used to work at, carmy asks you to come in and work with his pastry chef at his new spot, the bear. only, the longer you stick around, it becomes clear that you have unfinished business. will one week in chicago change your life, and his, forever? (completed)

tuesday | wednesday | thursday | friday (**18+ for smut) | saturday/sunday | monday | tuesday, again | the playlist

home (final chapter from comfort & chaos - **smut)

try a little tenderness (fluff & angst blurb)

cigarettes & coffee (fluffy blurb)

strawberries & cigarettes (fluffy blurb)

j is for james beard... and for jealousy (**smut oneshot | 18+ only)

your past and mine are parallel lines (fluff oneshot)

pov: carmy makes people magazine's sexiest chef alive list (fluff blurb)

bad moon rising (what if/angst-shot -- guest starring mikey berzatto)

sister-in-law (fluff oneshot -- guest starring natalie berzatto)

still into you (sequel to make my heart surrender)

you, syd, marcus, and carmy return to where it all began: new york city, prompting you and carmy to think a lot about your past... and your future together. (completed)

thursday | **bonus smut scene | friday | saturday | sunday | it's perfect, chef (**bonus smut scene)

don't want to walk alone

the long awaited wedding fic for carmy x reader in the make my heart surrender universe. this six part series chronicles the wedding planning, your (not) bachelorette party, the wedding, and the honeymoon as you build a life with your husband-to-be. (completed)

june/july | august | september | the honeymoon pt 1 | the honeymoon pt 2 | epilogue: november

granola blurb

carmy as your baby daddy

a social media au & headcanon series detailing your first pregnancy with carmy. created for the make my heart surrender universe, but can be read as a standalone work. this has been created in collaboration with @carmensberzattos & @allthefandomstogether , the graphic goddess. (completed)

part one | part two | part three | part four | give you my wild, give you a child (**smut-shot) | part five | part six | part seven

the social media au

scenes from the relationship & this story depicted as social media posts. won't always align with my other social media/moodboards.

part one | part two: first year of dating | part three |

extras/moodboards/headcanons/imagines:

your life as a pastry chef in chicago while dating carmy (moodboard & headcanon)

meeting mikey in another lifetime (headcanon)

pov: you're marrying carmen berzatto (moodboard)

honeymoon lingerie moodboard

christmas with carmy moodboard & blurb

The Bear: Unrelated to Make My Heart Surrender:

(nothing here YET but working on it)

so my darling | sydney adamu x male!chef oc

jealous!carmy & jealous!luca headcanon

stargazing with marcus brooks (blurb)

sneaking around with carmy (blurb)

[world-of-aus]

The Arrangement - Chapter 1

Pairing: Mobboss!Bucky x Reader

Chapter Warnings: Feels. Angsty Dialogue.

Author's Note: Any and all writing errors are mine. First official chapter of the arrangement and I can't wait to delve more into this series. Also, did y'all catch onto what I did at the end there? Enjoy!

“Please just talk to me.” 

Free MSG: Unable to send message—message blocking active. 

“You love him, he loves you, please reconsider I know you’re scared but please don’t do this.” 

Free MSG: Unable to send message—message blocking active. 

“Please don’t make me do this.. he chose you, he loves you..we planned YOUR wedding I can’t do this please just come home.” 

Free MSG: Unable to send message—message blocking active. 

Your fathers' hands come to rest over yours stopping you from sending another pleading text to your sister.  

“That’s enough sweetheart.” he says as he pries your phone from your hands. 

You want to scream that it’s not, to yell till you’re red in the face just how unfair this all was.  

“She just needs time dad, she’s just scared, you need to reconsider.” 

Your dad shakes his head pulling you into his side the best he can despite the seat belts strapping you in.  

“Your sister has made up her mind, and there’s no changing that. You and I both know it was always meant to be like this, you and him, it had been decided upon when we first drew up the merger contract.” 

But he chose her not me. He fell in love with her not me. 

“That original contract was discarded dad, I was there the night it was redrawn.” the night my heart broke further, “He loves her dad.” and no contract would change that. 

“And he’ll grow to love you too sweetheart, he’d be dumb and blind if he didn’t.” 

Your eyes slip shut a shaky breath leaving your lips. Many moons ago you would have believed those words, but now? Now all it does is bring you pain. You didn’t want to be somebody’s second choice. You didn’t want to have to force somebody to consider loving you. 

“It’s going to be okay sweetheart, you’ll see it’ll all be okay, there’s no one more capable of getting through this than you.” He murmurs pressing a kiss to your head just as the family car rolls to a stop. 

Through the tint you can see the grand entrance of the Barnes residence, Winnifred Barnes and Rebecca Barnes waiting at the door. 

Seeing your best friend stood by her mother you couldn’t help but wonder what Rebecca was doing here, she was supposed to be closing a deal with Romanoff, she wasn’t due to get back till the day before the wedding or at least that’s what the two of you had discussed over text. 

Your driver opens the door for you and your father then, your father stepping out first holding out a hand for you to help you exit the car. You’ve just straightened yourself out when Rebecca runs for you her arms getting around you in record time as she squeezes you to her. Winnifred scolds her from where she stands at the entrance but you can’t help to laugh, your arms going around your friend, “what are you doing here, you weren’t supposed to be back yet for another couple of days.” You breathe. Rebecca pulls back only slightly to take you in, “I closed with Romanoff within a day, as soon as the news broke, I booked the first flight home, I wanted to be here for my best friend, I know it’s what you would have done for me.” 

Tears threaten to well in your eyes, but you press them back with a shake of your head. “I missed you Bec’s” Rebecca laughs softly pulling you back in, “missed you more, now come mothers been asking for you, she’s quite upset that you’ve been so absent from her family dinners lately, she was worried something was wrong I told her you were just busy building an empire.” 

“You’re not wrong.” You murmur dread sinking in your stomach at the mention of family dinners, it was true your presence had become less and less and more recently with the upcoming prep of your sister’s wedding, you just didn’t have any more of you to give. You needed time to tuck tail, lick your wounds and heal, to get over the hurt that night caused you but with your sister needing you by her side at every turn with the wedding you did what you knew best; threw yourself into work, closing deals for your father, going into interrogations when needed, and keeping track of the money and cargo, you ran a tight ship.  Helping your sister plan what should have been your big day while you had never voiced it hurt, and then to put yourself through a family dinner where everyone cooed over the happy couple it had become all too much, you needed the space, the distraction. 

You and Rebecca close the distance between her mother and your father, Winnies arms opening for you almost instantly, “Oh ma,” you murmur closing the last bit of space between the two of you, your arms curling around her. “My sweet girl,” she breathes pressing a kiss to your head, “I’ve missed you; your father tells me he’s been working you to the bone so much so that you’ve been missing family dinners.” 

Your eyes meet your dad’s, he throws you a wink, “my girl’s going to be a force to be reckoned with.” 

You feel the rumble of her laughter as she pulls away her eyes assessing you, “I have no doubt, y/n has always been a strong one haven’t you.” 

You manage to pull a smile on, soft nod of your head, “I have some pretty powerful shoes to fill.” 

Winnie’s hand comes to rest on your cheek rubbing the skin there softly, “and you will, now come, let’s go talk family business.” 

Winnifred leads the four of you through her lavish home, directing you through to her home office as she shuts the door behind your group. You all take your respective seats, eyes on Winnie as she settles, “I do want to apologize for James's absence but he is out with Wilson and Rogers closing a deal, he should be returning in a day or two just in time for the wedding.” 

“Does he know?” Is the first thing that can think to spill out of your lips. 

“Yes my dear he does, and he wants you to know that he apologizes profusely for his absence, you deserved more than that, and I couldn’t agree more.” 

You want to ask if he’s upset, if he’s even remotely happy about this predicament your sister his now ex-fiancé has put you all in, but you’re not sure you want to know the answer to that. 

“As you’re aware y/n this marriage is important to both families, and I can understand how hard this may be for you, it was sudden – for all of us, but I do want to thank you for stepping up and taking this on with grace, there’s no one else I would choose to stand at my son’s side.” 

But you did you think, you chose my sister. 

“Of course Ma I know how important this merger is for not only us, but for the people we have vowed to protect, I would take on the roll no questions asked and while I understand this may not have been what was planned, what we prepared for, I promise to make you all proud.” 

Winnifred leans forward her hands reaching for yours, giving you a quick squeeze before she’s releasing you, “I know you will sweetheart,” she says as she stands making her way around the desk Rebecca following her lead, “and rest-assured your father and I will redraw up the contract this afternoon when -” 

“She’s here now, you can draw it up now.” 

Your head turns at the sound of his voice, he stands at the open doorway, his eyes already on yours. His smile racks up your heartrate, “sorry I'm late everyone” he says closing the distance between the two of you. In that moment you feel like it's just you and him standing in his mother's office, his hand landing on your hip, body pressing in close as his lips find your cheek. Your thought is to return the sentiment but you’ve forgotten how to breathe, and by the time your mind can catch up he’s going around the group greeting them. 

When he comes back to you all you can manage is, “you’re here.” 

He chuckles softly hand going around your waist, “I am y/n, I’m here, and I'm sorry it took me so long.” 

The Arrangement Taglist:

@learisa @greatenthusiasttidalwave @barnesxstan @calwitch @h0nestly-though @wintrsoldrluvr

[writingforfun0714]

Here’s a mini masterlist for Arcane: Sisters of Mine

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4 (takes place during timeskip)

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

*I will update as chapters come out*

[sarawritestories]

Unwavering Presence Chapter 1

Cassian X Archeron Sister (Reader)

A/N: Hi, I am so excited to share this first part with you! I wanted to point out that I am following major plot points in the books, however, this is in the Reader's perspective so some of the interactions may not line up with the text exactly but the major plot points will be there.

Content warnings: Nightmares, Grief, mentions of death, mentions of trauma,

Summary: Y/N accompanies her twin sister to the Nigh Court after Rhysand crashed Feyre's wedding. Where the reader finds herself lost in the memories of under the mountain and finds herself in the company of a Hazel eyed stranger

Word Count: 3.1k

tags: @hellodarling1357

If you want to be added to the tag list for this series let me know!

“Hello, Feyre, Darling.”

My head whipped toward the end of the aisle; the High Lord of the Night Court was flicking an invisible piece of lint from his dark lined suit. My gaze moved to my sister who before his arrival, had looked like she was ready to bolt from Tamlin. Lucien’s casually stepped closer Feyre as the Violet Eyes meet my own, “Y/N.” His gaze lingered on my long sleeve pink tulle gown, “You look healthy.”

I straightened my posture and tried to hold the arrogant air that would make Nesta proud, “Rhysand,” His gaze lingered on my long sleeve pink tulle gown I responded, trying to move toward my sister, a firm hand keeps me in place causing me to still completely.

Tamlin’s voice roared in my ear, “What the fuck do you want, Rhysand?” The High Lord of the Spring gripped my arm too tightly and I clenched my jaw to prevent a wince.

Rhysand did not miss the little action and tucks his hand in his pockets, “I am here to collect Feyre and Y/N. Unless Feyre Darling wants to go back on her end on the bargain.

I grimace as the memory of Feyre making that bargain:

I couldn’t keep my body from trembling, I knew I had a fever and Feyre was trying to bring my temperature down by putting a soaked piece of her shirt and pressing it on her forehead. Amarantha had split up the challenges between the two of us.  Taking the first challenge, The Middengard Wyrm was more challenging than I had originally anticipated. When we were living in the human lands, I would occasionally go out hunting with her and she would teach me a few things and those skills came in handy when going up against the Wyrm and was able to slay the beast.

  It wasn’t until we were back in our cell that I was aware that I had the gaping wound. It only took a few days for the infection to seep into the wound and my fever spiking.  “You must hang on just a little bit, Lucien will come and help. You just have to hold it out for a little bit longer.”

Steps could be heard down the hall from our cell and the grating of our cell door creaked open and Rhysand stepped in. Feyre covered me with her small frame, “What do you want?”

The Violet eyed male simply ignored her question and made is way to my side. I was to weak to cower away his presence alone was intimidating. He reached out his hand about to touch my wound when it was whacked away by Feyre, “Do not touch her,” she said through gritted teeth. The High Lord gave my twin a playful smirk in response.

A groan of pain escaped my lips as a violent tremor tore through my body both Rhysand and Feyre gazes meet mine, “I’m only here to help.” Rhysand says.

“We don’t need your help.” Feyre spat, tucking me closer to my chest always the protector.

Rhysand’s face began to blur in and out of focus but in a brief moment of clarity I saw his face hold a cool indifference as he met my stare. “Would your sister agree with you, Feyre?” In a fever haze it sounded as though he said her name like a prayer. “She will die if you don’t act quickly. Make a bargain with me and she will be safe.”

Feyre took her bottom lip between her teeth as her eyes met mine, I gave her what I hoped was a smile but was probably more of a grimace as a coughing fit erupted from chest. Feyre’s grip on me tightened as tears welled in her eyes. She looked up at Rhysand, “We were told not to make bargains with fae.”

I closed my eyes listening to his voice, “And yet you still made one with Amarantha. If it wasn’t clear she’s dying.”

Feyre shook her head, “Lucien will be here, and he can help us, I trust Tamlin.”

Rhysand sighed and I opened my eyes, my lids feeling heavy, and I used most of my energy to keep them on the former High Lord. “Lucien could get here tomorrow, or five days from now,

I gripped my sister’s hand and gave it a weak squeeze, “Feyre,” My voice cracked my throat and my mouth extremely dry from dehydration. “I trust him.” My gaze met Rhysand’s and I could have sworn there was a flicker of stars in his gaze I reached out my hand to him, he quirked his brow, but my hand met with Calloused ones. “I trust you,” A fit of coughing took over and there was a brief squeeze of my hand from his almost comforting.

 “What do you want?” Panic laced Feyre’s voice as my eyes began to flutter shut, loosening my grip on the High Lord’s hand. Rhy’s grips may have tightened but my mind was in a haze.

“I heal her, and you come and spend two weeks in the Night Court with me.”

“No,” Feyre said her voice strained. “I won’t do it.”

My eyes creak open slightly, as the feeling of soothing circles are brushed against my wrist. “Well, that’s a shame,” Rhysand released the grip on my wrist and rose.

Feyre shrieked and amplified my already pulsing headache. “No wait!” Feyre’s eyes meet my gaze tears are brimming, “Five days. I will give you five days, but my sister has to be with me.”

Rhysand scoffs, “Bargaining?” There was a pause, “10 days.”

Feyre countered, “one week.”

Rhysand hummed for a moment, “One week it is. You have a bargain.”

There was a flash and I slipped unconscious.

I met the stare of the High Lord of the Night Court, and he looked as though he was recalling that memory as well. As Tamlin snarled, “You cannot take them,” His grip on me tightening to the point of eliciting a small whimper that caused Lucien’s head whipping over to mine. A scolding look to his friend caused Tamlin to release me as I moved swiftly to my sister as I lace my fingers with hers.

“You want to wage a war on interfering with a bargain that Feyre willingly agreed to than by all means Tamlin be my guest.” He approached my twin and I and held out both of his hands with the palm. “Ladies, if you don’t mind.”

Feyre looked at me, fear extended to her features I gave her hand a comforting squeeze and a nod of my head that seemed to put her at ease. She reached out her free hand and I followed suit. Rhysand grips our hands and before Tamlin can make a beeline toward us, we were consumed by darkness and landed on a balcony and Rhysand ushered us inside to a large dining room area with dark red and black décor.

I looked back at the balcony ignoring Feyre’s bantering with the High Lord. Where we were, was on the side of the mountain and the scenery was breathtaking, the sun glinting off the snow on the mountain. The sun is beginning to set in the sky turning to hues of pink and purples painting the sky. I wish Feyre would take in the scene in the hopes that she would find inspiration to paint again.

Rhysand yelp of pain pulled me from the beautiful seen to see that he was rubbing the back of his head. Feyre has her second slipper in her hand, “Don’t you-“Rhysand growled as she threw the second slipper at him and the High Lord catches the slipper and smirks.

Feyre just scoffs, “Just take us to our room.” Tapping her now foot impatiently the way she crossed her arms I could have almost mistaken her for our eldest sister.

Rhysand’s lips formed a tight line. Crossing his arms in answer to hers, and I had to cough to cover up my laugh. The High Lord’s eyes twinkled with amusement and in a blink, it was back to normal, and he was scowling at my sister. “Follow me.”

Rhysand walked away not waiting to see if we were following him, I began to follow him and a small hand gripped mine. I paused and looked at Feyre her eyes were sunken, and her face had thinned since we came out of Under the Mountain, “I don’t like this.” Feyre whispered, “When we get home, I’m going to see if Tamlin can break the bargain.

I gave her a comforting squeeze giving her a warm smile fighting the disgust at her calling the Spring Court home. “Keep an open mind, Fey.” You paused, “He did save my life,” I looped my arm into hers, “Come on.” I dragged my sister into the hall and rushed to catch up to the High Lord who was leaning against a set of double doors.

“I figured the two of you would want to share a room.” Rhysand smiled and pushed off the door, “Does that work for you?”

I was shocked as I thought back to when we were taken to the manor in the spring court.

Feyre and I had our hands intertwined, the only thing preventing them from shaking, as we followed the High Lord of the Spring court through his manor. Tamlin, as we found out his name, was on our journey to the fae lands. The blonde fae male paused at one of the doors and opened them, “This is where room for either of you. Which one is up to you, of course.”

Feyre and I exchanged a look of pure panic, Feyre was the one to speak first, “Can’t we stay in the same room?”

Tamlin bristled, “You have spent the last few years in a room sharing a bed with your two other sisters and you still want to share a room?”

I glowered, “Well maybe, we’re in a strange place, with strangers and strange creatures, and maybe we seek comfort in each other’s company.”

Tamlin returned my glare and through gritted teeth, “You have two separate rooms, use them or don’t, I don’t care.” Tamlin walked past the two of us purposely bumping into my shoulder. “Dinner will be ready in a couple hours. Feel free to join.”

“Prick.” You muttered. As you and Feyre walked into one of the bedrooms.

“Y/N?” Feyre’s voice pulled me from my thoughts, bringing you back to the hall, Rhysand’s brows furrowed in what looked like concern. “Are you alright?”

I nod and give a smile, “I’m fine, are you okay with us staying together? I know that our ‘arrangement’ is different back in Spring.”

“You can call it home,” Feyre straightened, as if she realized who was standing and listening, “I’m fine with sharing a room.” She once again gripped my hand and dragged me to the room and slammed the door, not even muttering a goodnight to our host.

“My home is the cottage in the human lands, Feyre, considering,” I tuck my hair to reveal my round ear, “By their standards, I shouldn’t be here.  The only reason I’m here and tolerated is because of you.” Feyre flinched at the confession. I sighed and pinched the bridge of my nose. “Look, I don’t want to fight. You asked me to stay with you and I will, but please let me adjust at my own pace.”

Feyre nodded and, in a flash, she grabbed you and embraced you in a hug, “I love you, Y/N,” you wrap her arms around your sister and squeeze. “Thank you, for everything.”

“Of course,” you pull away and flick her nose, “Alright let’s get you out of this hideous dress.” She laughed and nodded. As if on que the doors of the wardrobe opened and there were two-night outfits. One was in a beautiful violet that looked too small for me and one in a ruby red.  “Well, that’s convenient.” I mutter as I pull out the red shirt and pants, running the cool silk through my fingers. “I have to say,” Feyre blue eyes, met mine, “The Night Court has style.”

We changed into night outfits, and I grumbled over my exposed mid-drift and how they accentuated my curves but overall, they were comfortable. I took a glance at Feyre and my heart ached. I could see her ribs protruding, I knew she was having a hard time, but every time I would ask her about it, she would brush off my concern, tell me that others had it worse under the mountain. Tamlin could barely look at me most of the time, so I was never able to bring it up to her betrothed.  Lucien made himself scarce ever since Ianthe came to stay on the property, so no one was there to help me help her. Feyre smiled at me, “Shall we get some rest? It’s been a long day.”

I nodded and we crawled into bed and cuddled close together and fell asleep.

Tears were falling down my cheeks as I watched Amarantha raise my sister’s body off the ground and throw her down like a rag doll. I was ready to run up to her, but Lucien pinned me to his chest concealing me from Amarantha’s sight. Feyre’s mouth moved and the rage on the red haired fae’s flared in her eyes. Amarantha smirked, “Well you figured it out, but you failed to be specific of when I free you.” Rhysand lunged at Amarantha and with a flick of a wrist he was flung against the wall.

Crack

The tether to my other half had snapped, and Lucien gripped me tighter as I screamed, my sobs uncontrollable. Lucien was whispering in my ear, but I couldn’t discern what he was saying, past my screams. I didn’t even notice how he stilled as the power shifted, and Tamlin unleashing his full power on Amarantha. “Feyre,” you whimpered as Lucien returns to consoling you as Amarantha was torn to shreds. Lucien let me go as I crawled to my sister; her limp body unresponsive. “Feyre, wake up, please wake up.” I sobbed leaning over body sobbing into her should, “Come back to me. Please I can’t do this without you.”

I jolted awake from the nightmare of a memory that plagued me every night these past three months. Sweat coated hair clung to my forehead as I turned to find my sister sleeping peacefully beside me her now pointed ears, proof that she was alive. It should have been me. I thought to myself. I shook the thought, knowing I had to be brave for her. Knowing she needed me to be strong enough to help her through this. I silently slid off the bed and snuck out of the room, knowing full well I would not be able to fall back asleep I figured I would explore our home for the next week.

My feet pad across the carpet and wander through the hall, as far as décor goes the halls are bare. Though the walls are dark the fae lights create a comforting ambiance. A door creaks open that catches my gaze, and I press myself against the wall hoping the shadows conceal me though no one ever came out. Deeming it safe to peel myself from the wall I walked toward the open door and my eyes widened. I stepped into the room and was mesmerized by the books lining the walls and the fireplace sending warmth down my spine. A window showcased the night sky, the room was breathtaking, and I began tracing the tomes with my fingers.

Nesta and Elain sometimes would pull me aside and teach me how to read when we had spare time. Though I could never read books at the same rate they do. Some words were still hard, and my understanding of the words sometimes went amiss so by the time we lost our fortune I had given up on it entirely.  Though I always loved the idea of reading to get lost in a story and transported to far off places.

“Someone having a hard time sleeping?” The deep voice that could cause anyone’s toes to curl, caused me to jump and I spun to find the source of that voice. My eyes met Hazel ones and I came face to face with the most beautiful male I had ever encountered.

The male was tall my head barely met his chest, dark raven hair the same as Rhysand’s fell to his shoulders his face was one blessed by ancient gods his chiseled jaw line and sultry lips. He wore red jewels on his chest and atop his hands and I gaped as I noticed his wings were tucked tight to his body as he leaned against the door frame. His face showed concern. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to startle you,” He spoke again. “Are you Feyre?”

I shook my head words lost on me, I shook my head and continued, “Afraid not, though I am her sister.” I picked up the book that was in my hands and put it back on the shelf, “I’m so sorry, I just couldn’t sleep and the door kind of opened on its own I was curious.”

The male raised his hand, “Rhys wants you both to feel comfortable while you’re here. You are more than welcome to be here.” He walks in deeper and faux whispers, “I technically shouldn’t be talking to you right now?”

You take a tentative step closer to him and faux whisper back “How come?”

He gives a wolfish grin, “He doesn’t want us to scare you away.”

I quirk a brow at him, since he made his presence known I’ve only felt this overwhelming comfort. “Are you someone I should be scared of?” I asked.

His hazel eyes glance at my night ware and it’s then that I notice that the color matches his rubies, interesting. His eyes linger on my exposed stomach that I wrap an arm around feigning a chill. His eyes meet mine noticing the shift and gives me a full smile showing his teeth, “Here? No. On the battlefield? Absolutely.”

I laugh, a sound I haven’t heard out of my mouth in a while. “I don’t think I’ll be on the battlefield anytime soon, so I’ll have to take your word for it.” You noticed how eyes are bright, “Well, it’s late and I don’t want to deter you from whatever it was you were doing.” I walk around him as he straightened, “It was nice meeting you.”

“Why couldn’t you sleep?” He asked right as I reached the door. He turned to face me.

I shrug, “What keeps anyone from sleeping? Nightmares.” I give him a small nod, “Goodnight…”

“Cassian, my name is Cassian.”

“I’m Y/N. Sweet Dreams, Cassian.”

I leave and I could have sworn before I did, I heard a soft, “Sweet Dreams, Princess.” Before bolting back to my room to my twin.

Chapter 2

[necessiteez]

HONGJOONG SMUT FIC RECS LIBRARY

✦ Secret Room ✦

disclaimer: I do not own any of these works and they do not represent the real kim hongjoong. all rights belong to the respective writers who made them.

all pairings are hongjoong x reader only.

further info is already stated in the main Library.

this is a special section reserved for works with kinks heavily influencing the story

✶ - favorites

╔═ secret♕room ═╗

In this list, by order:

✠ Daddy ✠ DILF ✠ Sir

✠ Breeding ✠ Corruption

✠ Size Kink/Size Difference

✠ Voyeurism ✠ Mirrors ✠ Car Sex

✠ Somnophilia ✠ Feminization

✠ Noona ✠ Exhibitionism (Public/Semi-Public)

✠ Nipple Play/Chest Worship

✠ Anal ✠ Knifeplay/Blood Kink

「 ✦ Daddy Kink ✦ 」

includes Hard Dom/Mean Dom!Hongjoong, DDLG/dollification/BDSM themes

Scent Play - @whatudowhennooneseesyou (wc 1k)

Recordings - crimsonbubble

Day 22 - whatudowhennooneseesyou

Thunder - barbzberry on ao3 (wc 2k)

Face Sitting - whatudowhennooneseesyou (wc 1k)

Untitled drabble feat. Seonghwa - @haiyuta

✶ Kitten and the Stranger - @ren-the-dragon (wc 7k)

✶ Kitten and the Stranger part 2 (Birthday Boy) - ren-the-dragon

Yours Alone - @frenchkisstheabyss (wc 1k)

Day 1 - @taehyungisminee

Rumor - @mingis-lightbulb

Hongjoong oneshot - @sugawhaaa

[1:48] Exhaused feat. Seonghwa - hanatiny (wc 1.3k)

* Dollification

Doll - nateezfics (1.8k)

✶ Thank You - @spinster-sisters (wc 2.8k)

Day 4: Pretty, Special Doll - whatudowhennooneseesyou

* BDSM

Leash feat. ot7 - @barnesbabee

Mistleblow feat. Seonghwa - @choijjongho (wc 6k)

「 ✦ DILF ✦ 」

Kinktober Day 25 - @ateezreactionsandscenarios (wc 3k)

In Vino Veritas - @pirateprincessblog (wc 7k)

Not Just A Dream - @ja3honey (wc 1.12k)

Definitely Not a Dream - ja3honey (wc 2k)

Love Me Like Your Favourite Dream - ja3honey (wc 5k)

「 ✦ Sir Kink ✦ 」

Tease feat. San - @hongism (wc 4.5k)

Demon's Prize - crimsonbubble

7:48 - crimsonbubble

Just For Me - @hongcherry (wc 9.9k)

Take It feat. Seonghwa- crimsonbubble

Suit and Offices - @hwanchaesong

✶ Covetous - @mountainficss (wc 2.5k)

Happy Anniversary - wonwussy

「 ✦ Breeding ✦ 」

Please - @mountainsluna (wc 1k)

Breeding - whatudowhennooneseesyou (wc 1k)

Kinktober Day 8 - @multiwreckedmess (wc 900)

The Shoe on the Other Foot - @bro-atz (wc 3k)

Untitled breeding kink drabble 1- @hyetiny

Untitled breeding kink drabble 2 - hyetiny

✶ Fill You Up - @last-words-ofashootingstar (wc 1k)

「 ✦ Corruption Kink ✦ 」

All Mine - @hongthoven (wc 2.6k)

Whole Other Level - whatudowhennooneseesyou (wc 1k)

Not Ready Yet - liara586 on ao3 (wc 1.8k)

✶ Hidden - @latte-fairytaekwoon (wc 3.5k)

Day 6: Ride - whatudowhennooneseesyou (wc 1k)

Ruin Me - @sxcret-garden (wc 1k)

「 ✦ Size Kink / Size Difference ✦ 」

✶ Baby Girl - mountainsluna (wc 1.5k)

Day 6 - hongism (wc 7.5k)

「 ✦ Voyeurism ✦ 」

✶ Consensual Voyeurism feat. Wooyoung, Seonghwa- @sanjoongie (wc 3.7k)

Three A.M. - Abiaswreck on ao3 (wc 2.9k)

+ Toys - @oceanlix (wc 1.9k)

Desperate - hanafudaearrings (wc 5.6k)

Day 4 - brownsugarbaybee (wc 1.3k)

「 ✦ Mirrors ✦ 」

Mirrors - @tohokuu (wc 700)

POV - @pyeonghongrie (wc 1k)

Mirror - hwanchaesong

「 ✦ Car Sex ✦ 」

Sunrise - @xoexoxhoe

Mist - hongthoven (wc 4.5k)

✶ Beach Parking - nateezfics (wc 1.3k)

Making Partner includes other members- bro-atz (wc 27k)

Don't Drive and Day Dream - ja3honey (wc 1.8k)

Criminal - spinster-sisters (wc 6k)

LA Devotee - spinster-sisters (wc 21k)

✶ Midnight Snack - swalledbymadness (wc 2.3k)

「 ✦ Somnophilia ✦ 」

+ free use (untitled) - @almightyddeonghwa (wc 800)

Day 16 - @starlitmark (wc 800)

2:08am - @crdteezv (wc 500)

Late Night Worship - hwallazia (wc 800)

「 ✦ Feminization ✦ 」

✶ Yummy - @bobateastay (wc 3k)

Bubblegum Bitch male reader- pyeonghongrie (wc 2.4k)

FFF Day 4 - sanjoongie (wc 2k)

FFF Day 24 - sanjoongie (wc 1.3k)

Ateez in Skirts - sanjoongie (wc 1k)

✶ S*x worker joong - hyetiny

「 ✦ Noona ✦ 」

Knockin' on Heaven's Door - Yellow Beacon on a03 (wc 9k)

Watch Your Mouth - Atiny-Piratequeen on ao3 (wc 800)

One More Night multi-chapter- Yellow Beacon on ao3 (wc 78k)

Watch Your Mouth - @atiny-piratequeen (wc 800)

「 ✦ Exhibitionism (Public/Semi-Public) ✦ 」

✶ HJ and a Latte - drwayward on ao3 (wc 3k)

Hot and Cold - hongthoven (wc 3k)

Un-dressing Room - hwanchaesong (wc 1.8k)

Day 9: Strike One - whatudowhennooneseesyou (wc 1k)

Daddy January Day 5 - whatudowhennooneseesyou (wc 1k)

Dirty Laundry - @barnesbabee

Better When It Feels Wrong - @teezertales (wc 2.7k)

✶ Sleigh Ride - hongism (wc 3k)

Exhibitionism - hongism (wc 2.5k)

Splash! male reader - revluvzen (wc 4k)

Red - nateezfics (wc 2k)

「 ✦ Nipple Play/Chest Worship ✦ 」

Slip - @puddingyun (wc 500)

Chest Worship - @ithinkilikeit-reactions

Chest Worship - hyetiny

「 ✦ Anal ✦ 」

A Hundred Ways to Ruin You part 1 feat. Seonghwa - daisukekuroneko on ao3

A Hundred Ways to Ruin You part 2 feat. Seonghwa - daisukekuroneko on ao3

「 ✦ Knifeplay/Blood Kink ✦ 」

Slice - HannieLuv on ao3 (wc 1.9k)

*.last updated 07/15/24.*

「 ✦ Deepthroating ✦ 」

「 ✦ Phone Sex ✦ 」

🆕✨ Hot To Go! - @kitten4sannie (wc 1.5k)

MORE TO BE ADDED SOON

[hearts4chriss]

𝐦𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭. ⋆.ೃ࿔*:･

ˏˋ°•*⁀➷ 𝓰 𝓾 𝓲 𝓭 𝓮 ↰

there is no order to any of this besides anything under “series”

you are responsible for what you read ( minor or not )

hate will not be tolerated

have funnn :)

// ˚୨୧⋆｡˚ ⋆ 𝐌𝐘 𝐖𝐎𝐑𝐊

Christopher Sturniolo ↴

𝐬𝐧𝐚𝐩𝐬 !!

snaps w/ boyfriend! Chris

snaps w/ boyfriend! Chris

snaps w boyfriend! Chris ( black girl )

snaps w boyfriend! Chris

snaps w boyfriend! Chris

snaps w boyfriend! Chris ( black girl )

snaps w boyfriend! Chris ( black girl )

snaps w boyfriend! Chris

snaps w boyfriend! Chris ( Latina girl )

snaps w boyfriend! Chris ( brown girl )

snaps w boyfriend! Chris ( Filipino girl )

snaps w boyfriend! Chris ( Asian girl )

snaps you’d take of boyfriend! Chris

snaps of e/o w boyfriend! Chris ( black girl )

snaps w toxic! Chris pt 1

𝐓𝐞𝐱𝐭𝐬 !!

texts w/ boyfriend! Chris ( black girl )

texts w/ boyfriend! Chris

texts w/ toxic! Chris pt 1

texts w/ toxic! Chris pt 2

texts w toxic! Chris pt 3

texts and snaps w toxic! Chris pt 4

texts w jealous! Chris

𝐅𝐢𝐜𝐬 !!

“fucking mine” w toxic! Chris 01/27/24

“take a ride” w bf! Chris 02/03/24

“haunted” w bf! Chris 02/06/24

“pour it up” w cocky! Chris! 02/08/24

“eyeblack” w bf! Chris 02/11/24

“tape that shit” w bf! Chris 02/15/24 🫶🏾

“tap that” w bsf! Chris 02/23/24

“Texas baby” w bf! Chris 02/28/24🫶🏾

“Spoiled rotten” w bf’ Chris 03/05/24

“Freshlove for the fit” bf! Chris 03/08/24

"Watch ur mouth" w toxic! chris 03/24/24🫶🏾

"Slice of pizza" w fwb! chris 3/30/24

“That’s my girl” w bsf! Chris 5/13/24🩷

“bratz doll” w bf! Chris 6/23/24 ?

𝐒𝐞𝐫𝐢𝐞𝐬 !!

Nate doe’s little sister

Chapter 01: Babysat by my brothers bestfriend 🫶🏾

Chapter 02: dirty Girl 03/03/24

Chapter 03: splash 4/19/24 🎀🎁 Teaser: snaps & texts

His Princess! (DISCONTINUED)

Chapter 01: princess 02/13/24

Chapter 02: under the table 03/17/24

Chapter 03: leather jacket 03/25/24

𝐇𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐜𝐚𝐧𝐧𝐨𝐧𝐬

Dom! Bf chris: 04/25/24

pussydrunk! bf chris 06/08/24

Matthew Sturniolo ↴

𝐒𝐧𝐚𝐩𝐬 !!

snaps w/ boyfriend! Matt

snaps w/ boyfriend! Matt

snaps w/ boyfriend! Matt ( Latina )

snaps w/ boyfriend! Matt + cheerleading black girl

snaps w/ boyfriend! Matt

snaps w boyfriend! Matt

snaps w boyfriend! Matt ( Puerto Rican girl )

snaps w boyfriend! Matt

snaps w boyfriend! Matt on tour

𝐅𝐢𝐜𝐬 !!

❌

𝐇𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐜𝐚𝐧𝐧𝐨𝐧𝐬

❌

𝐒𝐞𝐫𝐢𝐞𝐬

sleeping with my professor

Chapter 01: “Teachers Pet” w collegeprofessor Matt 4/15/24

Nicolas Sturniolo ↴

𝐒𝐧𝐚𝐩𝐬 !!

snaps w/ platonic! Nick

snaps w/ platonic! Nick

snaps w/ platonic! Nick

snaps w/ platonic! Nick ( Chris has a crush on u ))

✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧ 𝐄𝐗𝐓𝐑𝐀𝐒

Do NOT send me death threats ( unfortunately it has happened to be from some Matt girls and I love y’all but pls stop )

+ need anything my dms are open :)

+ "Why do you add dates?" honestly so I can keep track of how often / when im posting :)

- all works by me ©hearts4chriss ↰

[jessjad]

Rightfully deceived

Chapter 1

Summary: When a marriage promise forces Y/N to step up for her younger sister, she gets something she always wanted. But when the truth comes out, her new husband Dean is not so happy about the mix-up. Will she loose it all? Or will she be surprised in the end?

Pairing: AU!Dean Winchester x Reader

Word Count: 3487

Warnings: 18+ only!!! arranged marriage, lying, some nerves, smut, lost of virginity, first time

A/N: Ya'll get this chapter a day early, because I have two weeks off of work now! 🥳 Okay, here we go. Let's see how this wedding went down. All mistakes are mine! Enjoy! 😊

Series Masterlist My Masterlist

The day before...

"Please, Y/N! You need to help me out here."

The noise in the castle had become significantly louder after the guests had arrived two hours ago. Dean Winchester only had a few men with him, but that didn't make them any less loud. The wedding preparations were largely complete and soon they would have to go downstairs for the evening's feast.

But Helena didn't want to go down. She didn't even want to go through with the marriage the next morning. The younger woman was holding Y/N's hands like a plea with tears in her eyes and had just revealed her great plan of escaping the gruesome future their father had sold her to. Which were Helenas words, not hers.

Apparently she and the young man she was activly seeing in the last months wanted to elope and get married on their own. Y/N had known that these two were very fond of eachother, but she had never thought that it was that serious. Especially not when you have a man like Dean Winchester on your side that shows interest in you.

"Listen, Y/N... " spoke Helena again and brought her back out of her thoughts. "... there is now way this can go wrong. Noone's going to know until the next morning."

"Helena..."

"He won't see you until late in the night. If he's even able to get up the stairs to your bedroom after the wedding celebration." she tried to reason.

"But eventually he will find out that I'm the wrong bride!"

"But then you're already married!"

Y/N huffed and freed her hands out of her sisters grip. This was ridiculous.

"And you think that will make him soften and forget the fact that he got betrayed?"

Now Helena was a little lost for words. "Well... it's not... really betrayal..."

"Yes, it is, Lena! It is betrayal. And what do you think he will do with the arrangment he made with our father? Have you thought about that?"

Silence filled the room, but Y/N could see that Helena was a little fuming inside. Of course her sister did not think about the consequences of her actions and just wanted to do what she wanted. And as the older one Y/N should just say no. But this was Dean they were talking about. Her heart was a little biased here.

"I'm sorry. Y/N. But I'm not going to marry him. I love Peter and he will come and pick me up tonight."

"What?"

"I will be gone in the morning. And if you really care about me, you will let me go and help me out."

Over this revelation Y/N was just stunned and watched Helena turned around and leave the room.

Now...

They all had to be in the chapel in an hour and Helena had made her promise true. Last evening at the feast she was sitting next to Dean, talking to him and being her usual self. And to everyone else very visible, Dean was only even more fond of her as he already had been. It had broken Y/N's heart to watch the scene. Before they went to bed Y/N again had tried to reason with her, but as she knew her younger sister she remained stubborn.

"Where is your sister, Y/N?" her father came over and asked. "She needs to dress and her maid is nowhere to be found."

A little panic rose in her chest. As soon as she was awake, Y/N had looked for Helena, but she was really gone. If she was honest, she could not entirely blame her for going after her heart. She knew how it felt to be in love. It just had been the worst moment to do so. And now, she was running out of time.

"Just... sent Millicent to her. She can help her getting dressed."

Millicent was her own maid and once she was in Helenas room she would understand. Y/N made a decision then and there. After her father left again she ran as fast as she could over to her sisters room and hid in there, waiting for Millie. The dress and veil was already laying on the bed and her heart squeezed a little upon that sight. A knock on the door made her hide behind the screen before she asked who was outside. Whe she heared the voice of her maid she released a relieved sigh.

"Come in and close the door behind you." Y/N said and waited before she came back out from behind the screen.

"Mylady? What..."

"Let noone else enter the room until I'm fully dressed in the gown."

Whilst Millicent's eyes widened in surprise, Y/N already tried to get out of her own dress. After a few seconds of struggleling her maid rushed forward to help her.

"But why are you putting on the dress that belongs to your sister?"

With a small huff Y/N turned to her maid. In the safe space of an empty room with only them two alone in it, they could drop the formal speech and behave freely like the friends they had become over the years.

"She's gone. My sister's gone, Millie."

"What?" came Millie's shocked response. "When?"

Y/N finally stepped into the wedding dress and pulled it up her body over her shoulders. It was a beautiful dress. Red and gold. Expensive. Heavy. And she fitted barely into it. Not only was she a little shorter than her sister, Helena had always been the skinnier one of the two.

"Last night. She didn't want to marry Dean and ran away."

"With this Peter guy?"

"Yeah..."

Millie began to close the dress up on the back and Y/N started to think again. This would only be a temporary fix for the current situation. The calm before the storm.

"So... what is the plan?" the maid asked into the silence.

"Get through the day. Marry Dean... and hope he doesn't completely freak out tomorrow."

Millicent came back around, flatening the fabric on her shoulders before reaching for the veil. The two women looked at eachother for a moment and Y/N knew that her friend understood her internal struggle. She was the only one Y/N had told that she was in love with Dean and it dawned on both that this was going to be a big deal.

A sudden knock on the door startled them and Millie hurried to get the veil over Y/N's head just in time, before the door opened. Her father was stepping in to see if the bride to be was finally ready.

"Oh Helena... you look so beautiful." he smiled and looked so proud. Y/N' stomache started to turn.

"Thanks." she whispered and tried to mimic her sisters lighter voice.

"Well. it's time to go. Your husband is waiting!" he exclaimed excited and left the room again, totaly oblivious to the tension that had build up with every passing second.

Once the women were alone again, Y/N closed her eyes under the veil and took some deep breaths. But when she felt the veil lift a little she opned them back up again and saw Millicent look at her worried.

"Are you ready?" the woman asked quietly.

"No."

Dean's hands were warm. His smile was gentle and he looked really happy. And just for a second Y/N thought it was because of her. Looking up into his smiling face made her heart burst with love for this man who had no idea that he was getting betrayed right at this moment. And just like that the guilt sat in, making her feel bad for doing this in an instant.

"I do." she heard him say with his rich, dark voice before he turned his head back again to the woman by his side.

Now it was her turn to say it. The pastor was already finished with his speech and everyone was waiting for her to answer. She looked back into the room full of people she loved and cared about. Her father already beckoning her to say something with his eyes. She turned her head back to Dean and tears started to sting her eyes.

If he only would've looked at her more than once. If he only would've tried to get to know her too. Maybe he would've fallen in love with her as well. She was not like Helena. Not so pretty and skinny and beautiful. She knew that. But Y/N had always tried to engage in the conversations with him. To make him notice her, see her too. However, it never really worked the way she wished for. But at least for this moment, no matter how short it would be, she wanted to try and make him happy. She wanted to be the woman by his side.

"I do."

Dean felt good. Really good. He was married to a woman that he was truly fond of. She was younger, sure, but that did not seem to bother her too. And now, they could officially be together. To that he had to smile. He reached for his cup and drank a big sip of the whiskey, whilst he looked around the room.

The celebration of his wedding were only midway through, but Helena had already excused herself. She seemed to be a little nervous and obviously wanted to get a little alone time with the other women. He could not blame her. This night would be special, for both of them. Eventhough he already knew what was coming.

"You got a pretty big smile on there, brother."

At that Dean had to chuckle. His younger brother Sam sat down in the empty chair nex to his and sported a smug smile on his face.

"I'm married, Sammy. I've been waiting for this a little while."

"Yeah, but at home were women too that would've married you on the spot."

Dean did not need to ask who he meant. They both knew Sam was talking about Cassie.

"But I always wanted Helena. And now she's my wife."

They both cheered with eachother. Everyone was in a good mood.

"Are you happy?" Sam asked after a couple of moments and Dean turned back to his brother.

"Yes. Yes, I am."

Within the next hour the music got a little louder and people drank more and more. It was an exuberant evening. And even though Dean tried not to drink too much alcohol himself, he couldn't hold back because of the good mood. Sam stayed by his side the entire time and a few other of his men joined them to drink and celebrate. It was fun, but he still noticed something.

"Have you seen Y/N?"

Upon that question Sam let his gaze roam over the other participants, but he too could not see her.

"No. Why?"

"I don't know. It's just... I have not seen her all day."

"Okay... so what?" Sam asked. "She's probably busy with other things. She'll have to say goodbye to her sister tomorrow and she's surely with Helena right now." To that Dean nodded his head. "Just like her maid."

"Her maid?" now it was Dean's turn to look at his brother a little surprised. "You mean Millicent?"

"Urm... yeah... if... if that's her name." Sam answered and cleared his throat.

"Ooohh, Sammy! Do you like her?" Dean grined.

"No! Just... shut up." he protested, but the slight red tinge on his cheeks told otherwise.

Dean laughed and kept quiet. But only for a moment.

"Technically she would be older than you."

"Dean, I swear!"

"Okay, okay!"

The older Winchester held his hands up in defeat, but he could not stop the smile on his face. His brother was never a good liar.

Y/N had left the celebration shortly after the food was served. Her nerves had gotten the best of her. She was sweating under the veil and with Dean so close to her she had a really hard time not to give away that it was her and not Helena. But her husband had fun and she did not wanted to ruin it for him.

When she arrived at the new bedroom, Millicent was already there and had prepared a bath for her. The roaring fire in the fireplace had heated up the room nicely. Winter was starting to come around and the nights got colder and colder.

After getting out of the heavy wedding dress and sliding into the hot bath she felt like she could breath again. Millicent stayed with her until she was ready to fall face first into the bed and just sleep the day away. Which seemed to work, but not for long.

It was already late at night and the fire was out long ago, when Y/N heared the door opening to the now shared room. Heavy footsteps followed and she started to hold her breath. To her luck she was laying with her face to the door, away from the window. If she was honest to herself, she had hoped she would be left alone tonight. That Dean maybe would drink so much that he fell asleep in the dining hall. But it seems she was out of luck here.

He stumbled through the room, hitting his foot once or twice on the side of the bed. It was pretty cloudy so there was not much moonlight to illuminate the room. He kicked off his boots and it sounded like he sat down in the armchair near the window.

"Urgh... 'shouldn't have the last drink..." Dean slurred which was followed by a smacking sound.

The next thing she heard was fabric falling to the ground. That was it, right? Now it would happen. Her heart started to beat faster and when she felt the bed dip next to her, she tried to stay as still as possible. After a few seconds the room fell silent again. Only when she started to hear light snoring from behind her, she allowed herself to relax again and drift back to sleep.

The next thing that startled her awake was the warm feeling on her back. It had gotten cold in the room, it was still dark outside and she tried to lean in more into the warm feeling. The heavy arm that was laying over her middle hiked up a little higher, pressing her more to the warm chest.

Upon that realization Y/N opened abruptly her eyes, her heart starting to pick up speed again. But she was not the only one who was awake now. Dean started to kiss softly along her neckline and down to her shoulder. His lips touched her light as a feather and still it set her skin on fire. Then his scent hit her nose. He smelled like wood, whiskey and something warm.

What was she supposed to do now? Noone had really talked to her about every detail with this. What was expected from her and what she had to do. Dean's hands began slowly to explore her body. Careful and gentle. But as soon as his warm hand touched her bare leg she could not hold back a soft moan. His hands felt rough and a little calloused but still his touches were soft.

Dean layed one of his legs over hears so that she had to turn on her back. A little nervous again she did not look into his face. Yes, it was dark, but somehow she feared he would recognize her anyways. With soft fingertips on her cheek Dean turned her face towards him and touched her nose with his, before his lips landed on hers. This feeling was new and almost overwhelming.

On reflex she pressed her hands on his chest only to feel that he was not wearing any clothes. A thrill went through her veins and she let her hands wander over his firm, strong chest. Dean groaned softly and deepened the kiss. Surprised by his actions she opened her lips a little and the man waisted no time to let his tounge slip into her mouth. The only thing she could do was mimic his actions and it felt so good. She did not know if she was doing it right and if, Dean did not let it show.

Now Dean got more adventurous. He rolled on top of her, cageing her in with his arms and nestled between her legs. Y/N could feel something hard against her thigh and there was only one explanation what it could be. It made her feel funny between her legs and somehow it scared her a little. She broke from the kiss, taking deep breaths in and Dean seemed to sense the small change in her.

"Don't worry, sweetheart. I'll be gentle. I promise."

Y/N did not really know what he meant by that and before she could really think about it, one of his hands made their way down between her legs. Oh god, he was about to feel that something was going on there. She tried to close er legs but it was nearly impossible with him laying in between and holding her legs apart with his own.

Another moan left her lips when his fingers touched her sex, massaging her heated core and rubbing soft circles over a certain point that made her feel even better. She began to buckle her hips a little and Dean hummed satisfied before he kissed her again.

His hand picked up speed and she started to feel something build up deep withhin her. She felt one of his fingers enter her but it did not hurt. It only intensified this feeling that had her thriving underneath him now.

"That's it. Yeah, let me feel you."

Dean whispered in her ear and then she couldn't hold it anymore. The sensation was just to much to handle, her moans had become louder and louder and it felt like a hot liquid poured through her body and made her shake, before she collapsed. Her chest was heaving and for a moment she did not understand what had happend just now.

Dean kissed down her jaw to her collarbone and sucked the skin into his mouth. Slowly she came down from this high, but her husband did not stop just there. His lips sucking in her skin distraced her enough before she felt the pressure against her entrance. This was it. This was consummating the marriage.

"Take a deep breath for me." and she did as Dean told her.

With one calculated thrust of his hips he was deep insight her. There was a small sting of pain that did not fade away so fast, but the pressure inside her was the one thing that she really had to get used to. Dean held still, his hands were stroking softly through her hair and when he felt her relax again, he started to move.

Slow at first, so that she had time to adjust to him but that did not take long. He picked up his pace and with every move it started to feel good again. The pain turned into something more and then the coil and pressure in her middle was there again. Now Dean moaned louder as well and she held onto his shoulders.

Just when Y/N thought she could not handle it anymore, she felt Dean's movements get a little out of rhythm and his breathing got heavier. And with his last poweful thrust he took her with him over the edge again while he spilled his hot seed deep insight her with a groan. His forehead landed on her shoulder and Y/N stroked a hand through his hair. Dean kissed her again slow and sloppy, before he rolled down from her and layed on his back.

The slight disappointment that settle in on her upon losing the skin to skin contact with the man she loved, did not surprise her. This was not how she had imagined it, it was better. It was to much and not enough at the same time. So she tried to relish in this bliss that she felt and turned on her sight to face him.

Exhaustion was pulling on her and it got harder and harder to stay awake. Eventually she gave in and closed her eyes with the feeling of an heavy arm on her hip that pulled her close again.

When she woke up the next morning she felt good. Tired and a little sore, but good. The sun was already high up and provided a little warmth. She opened her eyes and saw Dean's face first. He was still laying on his side and supported his head on his hand, looking down at her.

She smiled and was ready to greet him, when the memories flooded back into her conciousness. Her eyes widened in shock as she heard him talk.

"And who do we have here?"

A/N: It all went well until... it didn't. 🙈 The cat's out. What will happen next? Let me know what you think. Feedback is very much appreciated! 💜

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[youngirlfrom]

MY ONLY DAUGHTER

| The true heir to the Iron Throne looked at the newborn baby in her arms with pure love in her eyes, "My only daughter, my sweet little girl. I will not let anyone touch even a hair of your hair. No one will dare to hurt you. I will ensure that their laughter spreads throughout the Seven Kingdoms. Your mother will be with you until her last breath, my beautiful Daena." said.

Although the laughter of Rhaenyra Targaryen's only daughter, Daena, spread throughout the Seven Kingdoms, no one heard them as much as her cries of pain.

| the first chapters will be about the childhood of Daena and the others. |

chapter 1 | Queen's Delight

"I hope it's a girl," little Daena said as she gently caressed her mother's belly. There was a childish innocence in her eyes and a confident smile on her lips. "I don't want any more brothers. Boys are too loud and rude."

Rhaenyra laughed loudly at her daughter's words, her voice filling the warm atmosphere of the room. She reached out and caressed Daena's soft cheek. "If it's a girl, would you like to name her?" she asked.

Daena's eyes suddenly sparkled with excitement. She was practically jumping on the spot, and with her little hands clenched into fists, she let out a little scream of victory. "Yes, yes! I'd love to!" she shouted. "I want her name to be Daenys. It's almost the same as mine! That means she'll be different from me, but she'll also be mine."

Rhaenyra admired her daughter's logical yet childish way of thinking. "You'll be a wonderful big sister, Daena," she said tenderly, her hands running through her daughter's hair. Daena's hair was another subject of admiration for her. While her brothers Lucerys and Jacaerys had completely black hair, Daena's was a masterpiece with silver strands dancing in the black. And that single, bright wisp of Targaryen yellow… to Rhaenyra, it was a symbol of her daughter's unique heritage.

“But,” Daena said, suddenly serious, her brows turning into a thoughtful expression. "If it's a boy, I still want to name him."

"Really?" There was a secret curiosity in Rhaenyra's voice. "So, what do you have in mind, my beautiful girl?"

"Aemon," Daena said confidently. "It's not compatible with my name, but it's still a beautiful name. It seems like a strong and noble name to me. Besides, we'd be honoring my grand-grandfather's name, wouldn't we?"

Rhaenyra was surprised that her daughter made such a mature suggestion beyond her age. A caring smile spread across her lips. "Aemon is truly a beautiful name. Your choice is noble," she said, shaking her head slightly.

Meanwhile, the door slowly opened and one of the maids entered, embarrassed to have to interrupt this special moment between the princess and her daughter. "Princess, your lesson will start soon. We need to go," she said, bowing her head slightly.

Daena's facial expression changed suddenly. Her previous joy had given way to distress. “Mom,” she began, pursing her lips and putting a playful pleading tone into her voice. "I don't want to go. Can I skip classes for today, please?"

Rhaenyra was used to her daughter's dramatic behavior. But she still spoke gently and firmly. "You promised me that you would never neglect your studies, Daena. Do you remember?"

Daena thought for a moment and then frowned, "But if I leave, that stupid Aegon and Jace will make fun of me again!" she burst out. In addition to anger, a tear appeared in her eyes. "Only because I don't have a dragon! I don't have a dragon and they're throwing it in my face!"

Rhaenyra's heart sank. She knew how deeply her daughter felt the burden of not having dragons, which was the Targaryen inheritance. But she still spoke in a soft and supportive tone in response to her anger. "The next time Syrax lays an egg, you will be able to choose your own egg. It is your right and no one can interfere with that. I promise you."

However, these words did not satisfy Daena. "I don't want any eggs," she grumbled peevishly. "I want a dragon. Just like Dreamfyre! A big and powerful dragon!"

The little girl jumped up from the chair she was sitting next to her mother and headed towards the door with angry steps. Her small shoulders rose and fell angrily.

Rhaenyra let out a long sigh after her daughter. She knew that Daena's anger wasn't just about not having a dragon. Her siblings' mockery hurt the young girl's pride and damaged her self-confidence. But this stubbornness… this tough personality… Rhaenyra paused for a moment and muttered to herself with a genuine smile, "I don't know whom she got this stubbornness from.."

Then, as she ran her hands over her growing belly, her thoughts turned back to her unborn baby. "I hope you won't be as stubborn as your sister, little thing," she said fondly.

Her fourth pregnancy was more difficult than her previous three. Fatigue took over her body, but despite this, she couldn't wait to hold her little baby in her arms. There was hope in her heart. Just like Daena said, a cute baby girl never hurts. But it didn't matter if he was a boy. The important thing was that they would bring new light to her family.

Rhaenyra fell into daydreaming while caressing her belly. Maybe this could be an opportunity for the baby family to come together. Maybe their children would finally be proud of each other instead of competing with humans. Time would tell.

First of all, this fiction was created with components from both the book and the series. I am neither green nor black. I prefer to love the characters individually instead of keeping a team. I hope you like my fiction. English is not my first language, so feel free to point out my mistakes and ask anything you want.

Daena Velaryon is the second child and first daughter of Rhaenyra and Leanor. So she's only a year younger than Jace. Of course, just like her siblings, she grew up with questions about her 'true blood' for years. And like Aemond, she had no dragon, so she also became an object of ridicule.

That's it for now and I can assure you that Daena will not be riding Cannibal. You're welcome 😽

I also publish my fiction on Wattpad! You can also reach me there with the same name!