#thank you so much for these wonderful questions!!

[mintfullyyours]

I don't know where this falls in the time line of ex-husband!simon but he's been brewing in my mind and I love him so much. You can read the first part here: patching up exhusband!simon and as always thank you for reading!!

& lmk what you guys think about ex-husband!simon.

thinking about the night of your first date out while "single." You sigh, putting the car in park and resting your forehead against the steering wheel. Jeff. That was his name, right? He wasn’t a bad guy—asked the right questions, paid for dinner, had a steady job that kept him local. A fine first date. Predictable. Safe.

Then why did it feel so… empty?

Rubbing your temples, you tell yourself this is for the best. Stability. Normalcy. That’s what you need. What you deserve, too. Maybe, in time, you’d even believe it. Sliding your key into the door, you frown. It doesn’t click. A chill slithers down your spine as you push it open, your stomach knotting at the sight of the dim light bleeding into the hallway from your bedroom.

You already know who’s inside.

Your breath hitches as you swing the door open, and there he is—Simon, sitting on the edge of your bed, his broad shoulders hunched slightly forward. The faint gleam of metal catches your eye. Your engagement ring. It rolls fluidly between his fingers, like a an awful habit he never broke.

His gaze lifts, pinning you in place.

"Took it off, did ya?" His voice is eerily calm, but there’s something coiled beneath it, something ready to snap. "Wonder if he knows you still wear my name."

Your stomach tightens. You take a good look at him—really look at him—and the past five months apart have not been kind. His beard is thicker, his jaw sharper, his frame even larger than you remember. Like he’s been drowning in something darker than loneliness.

"Simon, I’m not in the mood. You can't be in here, shouldn't be in here." Your voice is firm, though your chest heaves with the effort to keep it that way. "Just because you refuse to sign the papers doesn’t mean we’re still together."

A slow, humorless chuckle rumbles from his chest. He leans forward, elbows on his knees, and lets the ring settle in his palm before closing his fingers around it.

"That’s where you’re wrong, love."

He stands, and in an instant, he’s in front of you, so close you can feel the heat radiating off his body. His scent—familiar, overwhelming—wraps around you like a pretty string tied in a bow.

His hand trails up your arm, slow, deliberate, until his fingers ghost over your pulse. His eyes drop to your lips, then flick back up, dark and unreadable. The silence was deafening. It was as if he knew the power he still had over you, or at least your body. Simon wedges his muscular thigh between your legs, and your hips buck ever so slightly.

You whimper and he smirks, knowing your body would never betray his.

"You think a piece of paper makes you any less mine?" His grip tightens, not enough to hurt—but enough to remind you just how easy it would be.

"Any less of a Riley?"

You swallow hard. He leans in, lips a breath away from your ear.

"Tell me, dove— and he honest, because you know I hate liars, did he make you feel anything at all?"

tag list

@ebodebo @meheheasasa @thegirlintheshadows101

[vettelsvee]

Hi love! For your tortured poets department, can I request endgame from the reputation album, lando being the driver please please 🙏

END GAME | Lando Norris

Lando Norris x Friend with benefits Piastri!Reader

SUMMARY: You were used to have random hookups just for fun, including with Lando Norris himself. It's not until he decides to lock both of you up on his driver room and talk about your weird relationship that you don't realize that, deep down, you're willing to settle down your mind and start a dating him ↳ REQUESTED: Yes! Thanks for requesting and hope you like it 💖 Part of REPUTATION in MY TORTURED DRIVERS DEPARTMENT

WORD COUNT: 2745

WARNINGS: Slightly +18 at the end (sorry for leaving it there ☺️), mentions of friends with benefits, spelling with multiple people, angst, curse words

VEE'S NOTES: Haven't written Lando in a very, very long time, so hope you like this one! University and my mental health are killing me but you know what? Writing is what keeps me going (and specially your comments have been a boost of serotonin for me lately). Also... the 2k special is already living rent free in my mind and I can't wait to achieve the goal to post it 😭 I wanna give spoilers now so... you know 🤓 ↳ TALK TO ME / REQUESTS! | FORMULA 1 MASTERLIST

© VETTELSVEE (2025). please, do not steal, copy or translate my works. thanks for reading!

"You finally decided to show up at a race. I was starting to think you only liked having me naked in your bed behind your brother’s back."

You smiled at the screen, playing with your fingers as you thought how could you answer Lando. Your relationship was based purely on sex, moreover sexting, with barely any real conversations whenever you met, moans and orgasms speaking for you both instead.

You had never felt the need to go beyond that, to involve feelings in your relationship, or at least that’s what you had made clear to Lando before sleeping with him the very first time. You also let him know that, besides him, there were other guys with whom you had no commitments whatsoever.

However, it was with Lando that you spent most of your time. The others were nothing more than a safe escape, an easy way out when the Brit wasn’t around.

"Be grateful that I even came," you finally replied. "And don’t flatter yourself. I came to see my brother, not to make you come before a race."

You hesitated, wondering if your reply was harsh enough to keep him from getting any ideas and, more importantly, to stop him from insisting on meeting up. You weren’t sure how, but you wanted to end that strange relationship before it spiraled out of control because, whether you wanted to admit it or not, you had started to feel something for him.

Yes, just a few weeks ago, you had one of your usual encounters with a friend of one of your best friends. But everything fell apart when, right before reaching your climax, you couldn’t help it: you moaned Lando’s name instead.

That was what made you question what exactly you felt for Norris and why the label of friends with benefits seemed to be fading away.

"Don’t play dumb, Piastri. See you at the motorhome. You know exactly where."

You huffed. Of course, you knew exactly where you’d be meeting. After all, ever since your brother became a Formula 1 driver, you had visited his teammate’s personal room more than Oscar’s.

With a sigh, making sure neither your mother nor your sisters were nearby, you got up, grabbed the plastic cup that still had a bit of coffee left, and walked with as much determination as you could muster toward McLaren’s motorhome, finishing your drink along the way.

As you walked, mentally preparing a script in case things got tense with Lando, you greeted the people you knew, or at least those who knew you as Y/N Piastri. Lewis was genuinely happy to see you and even stopped to chat, but you excused yourself, saying you had already made plans. Fernando gave you a knowing look, as if trying to figure out what exactly you were about to do with a certain driver.

Even your brother crossed paths with you at the entrance to McLaren’s motorhome. You managed to lie to him, partially, saying Lando had asked you to take a few pictures of him before the race.

Oscar gave you a strange look, then rolled his eyes, offered a small smile and told you to enjoy whatever it was you both were about to do.

You said nothing, but you knew your twin brother well enough to realize he already had a pretty good idea of what you were up to with Norris. Not that you tried too hard to hide it.

When you reached Lando’s room, you didn’t even have to knock. The door opened instantly, revealing a slightly tired-looking Lando with a cup in his hand. His race suit was already on but zipped only to his waist, leaving the top half hanging loose. His team cap was still on, though it didn’t last long since he took it off and tossed it aside within seconds.

He grinned from ear to ear, like he had been waiting for you with far too much anticipation.

"Come in. Make yourself at home," he said with that mischievous tone you were so used to hearing, though something about it felt slightly different this time.

You walked inside without hesitation, crossing your arms and ignoring him, except for the occasional sideways glance to see if he would do or say something before you did. Unfortunately, he didn’t.

"If you wanted a quick fuck before the race you could’ve just said so, you know?"

"I don’t think today’s the best day to fuck you and let everyone hear," he replied. "At least, not yet. Today, we’re going to talk."

"We don’t talk, Lando," you shot back, feeling an internal alarm go off. "And when we do, it’s just to ask about the safe word of the day, what we want to do to each other, and how close we are to coming."

"Well, maybe it’s time we started talking, don’t you think so?"

His answer took you completely by surprise. Your gazes remained locked on each other, and you felt the atmosphere grow tense.

For the first time in a long while, there was no excuse you could use to avoid that conversation with Lando. Maybe the fact that you had been ignoring him for the past few weeks was enough to make him realize that there was a chance—however small—that things had changed between you two.

You took a deep breath, trying to calm the growing sense of unease settling in your chest. Lando kept looking at you with that same intensity he always did, except this time… it was different. It wasn’t the first time you found yourselves in a situation like this, where there were a thousand unsaid things hanging between you, waiting to be voiced. But it was the first time, at least on your part, where feelings were involved beyond pure physical desire.

"I don’t think there’s anything to talk about," you said as nonchalantly as possible, but your tense posture betrayed you.

Lando set his cup down on the table beside him. Then, he sat on the edge, crossing his arms again, and reached for your hands only for you to pull away and take a step back.

"I think you know exactly what we need to talk about," he replied calmly. His voice was lower than usual, and you felt the heat grow between your legs. You shook your head, feeling guilty and doing your best to push away that sudden, but familiar, awakening in your body.

"You’ve been avoiding me, Y/N. And don’t tell me you haven’t, because you were in Monaco and never called me to meet up… to see each other," he added, his voice laced with something unreadable. "In fact, we usually sext almost every day, and you didn’t even bother to tell me what  new lingerie set you bought for when you came over."

"I didn’t tell you I was coming to Miami either."

Your reply, rather than making you sound indifferent, exposed you completely. Lando raised an eyebrow, as if he had caught you red-handed. That was when you realized you had seriously screwed up.

"I haven’t been avoiding you, Lando. I’ve just been busy," you insisted.

"Busy? You mean busy by ignoring me?" He scoffed, ironic. His expression turned much more serious now, and you started to worry about where this might lead. "Tell me the truth, Y/N. What’s going on? What’s happening with you?" he emphasized.

You averted your gaze, pretending to take interest in the room’s decoration, a room you already knew by heart. You knew you couldn’t keep dodging the topic, but you also had no idea how to confront it without changing everything you had so far. It was impossible to put into words what you felt for Lando, not when your relationship had always been purely physical. And especially not when there was a real chance you were just confused… and, well, you couldn’t forget the possibility that he might only see you as his hookup.

"Nothing’s wrong," you finally responded.

"I thought we were always honest with each other," Lando sighed, running a frustrated hand through his hair.

You felt your throat tighten. It was hard to breathe. You had been honest, at least when it came to the unrestricted desire between you, to touching each other without attachments, to seeking comfort in one another without questions that went beyond your wildest fantasies. You had avoided anything personal.

But now, you were slowly breaking the unspoken rules that had kept you in perfect balance until this moment.

"I’ve been busy, Lando, and the last thing I wanted was to deal with you, alright?" you insisted, trying to sound as convincing as possible. "Things should have stayed the way they were until, according to you, I started ignoring you."

"No, Y/N, things aren’t like that," the Brit denied, shaking his head. He stepped closer, cornering you against the wall. "If you don’t want to face something because you’re afraid of rejection, just tell me. But, for fuck’s sake, don’t act like I did something wrong, because you’re killing me."

"Lando…"

"Stop insisting that nothing is happening between us, when that’s exactly what makes me think the opposite."

His confession caught you completely off guard. His words—clear, direct, and without a hint of sarcasm, threw you off… especially because you knew he was right.

You felt the urge to run, to disappear, to pretend none of this had ever happened. Most of all, you wanted to deny yourself any romantic thought you had ever had about Oscar’s teammate.

When you lowered your gaze, Lando moved back slightly, giving you space and making sure he didn’t overwhelm you more than you already seemed to be. You sighed, trying to relax once again, but before you could say anything, he spoke first.

"Tell me nothing’s wrong between us, Y/N Piastri," he said softly. "If nothing has really changed, if everything is the same between us… dare to look at  me in the eyes and say it."

Your chest tightened. You couldn’t run away, not when Lando had you emotionally cornered, teetering on the edge of an explosion. Your breathing was unsteady, heavy. Your mind screamed at you to find an excuse, anything that would let you stay true to yourself regardless of what happened next.

Lando waited, unmoving, his blue eyes locked onto yours with an intensity that made you tremble for the first time in your life—without him even touching you. It was the first time he had shown himself to you like this: so vulnerable and yet so determined at the same time.

"Nothing is wrong between us, Lando Norris," you finally whispered, forcing the words out, ignoring both your heart and the boy standing in front of you.

"Say it again, but this time, look me in the eyes."

He didn’t move an inch. He knew you were lying; your posture gave you away—the way you avoided his gaze, the way your fingers toyed with the hem of your shirt and your accreditation pass…

You squeezed your eyes shut tightly. You had no choice… at least, not entirely.

Lifting your gaze, you met his blue eyes once again. Your lips parted slightly, ready to try and let out a lie convincing enough for both him and yourself.

But it was impossible. You couldn’t keep doing this, not when, deep down, and no matter how hard you tried to deny it, you felt something more than just pleasure for Lando Norris. The fear of rejection… it terrified you. The thought of him turning you away, of losing what you had with him, was unbearable.

"Lando…"

"You don’t have to say it if you’re not ready," he interrupted. "But please… stop pushing me away. Stop making this to us."

"It’s just…"

Nothing. No matter how much you tried to explain yourself, to find a logical enough reason for your sudden ghosting, you couldn’t.

"It’s just what, Y/N?" the Brit pressed. "Are you afraid to take a risk? To admit something because you’re scared of what might happen next? Because you don’t want to change the life you’ve had until now? Because you want to…?"

Lando forced himself to stop. He ran his hands through his hair, exasperated, turning his back to you. Guilt hit you immediately, your body trembling as the storm inside you began to break free. The driver rubbed his face, frustration radiating from him. This was exhausting him. You were exhausting him, to the point where he was starting to doubt his own feelings. Feelings that had started to grow the moment he realized it hurt when you ignored him, when you didn’t even send him a simple "Hey."

"I wish this were different, Y/N," he finally murmured, his voice thick with emotion as he turned to face you again. "I wish you didn’t make me feel like this. I wish I could just be content with what we had before and pretend none of this was happening…"

Your stomach twisted painfully. That was exactly what you had been thinking, the very reason you had pulled away from him and from whatever this was. You had ignored the fact that your feelings for Lando Norris had become something much stronger—maybe they had been there for far longer than you were willing to admit.

"Lando, listen" You tried to step closer, but he pulled away.

"No, Y/N, no," he said bitterly. "I tried convincing myself there was a reason you were ignoring me, acting like I was nothing to you, and then it hit me that I really want you as more than just someone to fuck."

"That…" you struggled to say, stepping toward him. This time, Lando didn’t stop you. The sincerity in your eyes, the way you looked both calm and nervous at the same time, made him realize he had to trust his instincts. And that was exactly what they were telling him.

"That’s what I wanted to tell you," you admitted, your voice barely above a whisper, but Lando still heard you. "That’s why I kept you on standby for two weeks… I knew this would change everything, that you’d react badly, that we’d end up fighting, and I… I didn’t know how to face the possibility of you rejecting… this."

Lando stared at you in surprise before a sad smile crept onto his lips.

"Y/N… I’ve always been good at reading signals, but this has been driving me fucking crazy."

"And you think it’s not been making me feel the same?" you shot back, feeling a weight lift off your shoulders.

Lando stepped closer, taking your hands in his. You didn’t resist, feeling how the both of you tensed at the contact. His lips inched toward yours, and when they finally met, the kiss was so fierce, so full of passion, that you ended up straddling him on the couch, moving against him, desperate to feel him. Even though you both knew there was still a race in two hours.

"I don’t want to touch you like this, Y/N," Norris whispered against your ear as you left small bites along his neck. "Y/N, stop it babe…"

"I don’t wanna be just another ex-love to you, Lando…" you murmured between kisses, still searching for friction between your bodies.

"And I don’t wanna miss you like your other lovers do, babe…"

This time, Lando gripped your waist firmly, flipping you onto the couch beneath him. His eyes never left yours as he carefully lifted your shirt and started massaging your breasts over your bra.

"I wanna be your end game, Y/N," Lando breathed, unable to tear his gaze away from you.

Your breath came out in shallow pants, and you felt like you were teetering on the edge. Your hands gripped the unfastened gear around his waist, tugging lightly to keep him close.

"Then prove it."

"I have a race in two hours, love…" he murmured, his voice rough as he pressed his forehead to yours, his arousal growing.

"Then you better be quick," you teased, running your hands over his abs beneath the fireproof. "Especially if you don’t want Osc to hear us…"

"You’re gonna be the death of me one day, Y/N Piastri," Lando groaned as he trailed his fingers up your thighs, lowering himself before you. "Now, open your legs for me... You deserve a punishment after being such a bad, bad girl these past few days…"

[yanderedrabbles]

💕 Yandere Valentine's Day Gifts ♥️

Prompt: You own the local flower shop. It's Valentine's Day. Which customers will be popping in?

Yandere! Sugar Daddy calls you two weeks before Valentine's to order fifteen separate bouquets for his darling. Every exotic and rare shade that roses come in.

"I want them delivered fresh. Early morning please."

"Yes sir, I can manage that," you tell him, still reeling at the ridiculously large amount he just paid you.

On Valentine's Day, his maid let's you and your crew into his penthouse. You can't help but let out a low whistle when you see the size of the place.

He directs you to set the bouquets out around the living room. The morning light from the floor to ceiling windows catches on the glitter you dusted across the arrangements.

He has a sort of nervous energy - arranging and then rearranging the flowers. You sometimes hear a thumping, banging sound from deeper in his penthouse but when you ask him about it he says its just the building creaking. You don't know much about skyscrapers this high and so you let it go.

When it's all finally to his satisfaction, he tips you and your crew very generously. As you leave, you see him setting out a whole slew of iconic Tiffany jewellery boxes.

His darling will be showered with the most expensive love money can buy. Whether they want it or not.

Yandere! Bisexual Best Friend breezes into your shop like a true haute couture diva. He looks over his designer sunglasses and snorts with disdain at the traditional red bouquets.

"Nothing so cliche for my girl," he tells you.

He orders pink and white camellias, with sprigs of baby's breath. He has you wrap the stems in matching pastel paper. When you ask him if he'd like to include a card, he writes his message in a beautiful, looping cursive.

'I know no boyfriend will get you flowers that you actually like. That's why you have me. Happy Valentine's Day gorgeous.'

"Very elegant," you tell him.

"Thanks. I'm meeting her for brunch and drinks after this."

He shows you his other gift for his darling. A bottle of expensive perfume, in a glittery blush pink box.

When you ask him if his friend has any dates planned, he tilts his head and smiles without any warmth at all.

"Not if I can help it."

Yandere! Actor doesn't come into the shop or call you directly. It's his hurried, harried assistant that places the order.

"Five dozen roses in a single bouquet. I'll bring you some chocolate that he wants between the flowers. Oh, and a card. Don't forget the card."

When she drops off the chocolate for you to use in your arrangement, you can't help but want to look up the price. Everything from the packaging to the hefty weight of each chocolate screams luxury artisanal brand.

The final arrangement is beautiful, but in a looking-good-on-camera sort of way. You don't know the order is for him until his assistant accidentally let's it slip who her boss is. Your eyebrows shoot up but you manage not to ask any questions. A billionaire and now a celebrity. Seems like everyone wants to be extra romantic this year.

"What does he want on the card?" you ask, pen poised.

"Oh, he sent one for you to use." She hands you a card printed on thick cream paper, elegant in its minimalism. You glance at the writing before you can stop yourself.

'A star like you deserves all the flowers. Happy Valentine's dollface.'

Cute. The exact sort of thing you'd expect from a heart throb like him.

It's only when you see him and his darling on the red carpet later that night - his arm around their waist the entire night - that you begin to wonder if there's more to their relationship than meets the eye.

Yandere! Werewolf shows up right before you close, hands on his knees while he catches his breath. He ran straight to your shop after football practice and there's still grass stains on his chin.

"Oh god, tell me I'm not too late for roses." He looks so worried that you take pity on him and agree to look in the back for any bouquets that might have slipped under the radar.

He must be supernaturally lucky, because you manage to find a dozen red roses. When you get back to the front, he's taken out the rest of his gifts from his backpack.

There's an overstaffed werewolf plush, an extra large leather dog collar, some pre-packaged bones and a chew toy.

"Interesting selection," you say as you ring up his flowers.

He rubs the back of his neck. "Yeah. They uh... have a dog. It's mostly for the dog."

You get the sense he isn't being entirely honest, but you're not the type to pry. When you're done, he shoots you a gorgeous smile.

"I totally owe you one. You really kept me out of the doghouse."

He's just about to leave when he suddenly remembers something. He digs in the pocket of his letterman jacket and pulls out a clear packet of candy hearts. You look closer and realise he must have picked out individual sweets just for their message. They're repeated again and again.

'Be mine.'

'Yours forever.'

'Kiss me.'

"Do you think these are canine safe?" he asks you. You think about it for a second and then nod.

It's only after he's left that you wonder what sort of dog would want to eat candy like that.

[trappolia]

── DID MY LOVE AID AND ABET YOU?

(book 7 spoilers!)

ace trappola. hearts bared and dreams unveiled, you come to terms with something that has festered in the boy you love.

"You're the most selfish person I know."

It's horrifyingly bare, Ace realises, the way he lays still beneath you. Your weight rests upon his torso, legs straddling him on either side. Both of you are clothed, of course, Deuce would be horrified to see anything else if he stirred awake from where he was still recuperating on the bed across the room.

But there is something about it. Naked, not like two lovers in sex, but as if you have dug your fingers through the hollow skin of his sternum to peel it apart, baring his heart where it thumps erratically against the cage of his ribs. He lays prone beneath you, simply staring at the visage of your face (dream-like, though certainly not a dream. Not anymore. He's woken up now, thanks to you, but by doing so, you have unearthed his deepest insecurities.)

He wonders if you’d be selfish enough to dig in deeper, to unfurl the twisting cage of his ribs to bare his heart, which has always been yours for the taking.

"More than yourself?" Ace challenges. It's delivered in a light tone, easily heard as a quip to others— but you have known him long enough to recognise a challenge, to know that he sees you too in this sense.

(The question is easy for you to translate. Are you not selfish as well? Will you not try to pry me open like a gilded treasure trove of secrets, see how much more I will give to you? You've had a taste of my true heart now, and you want more. Greedy little thing.

Ace sees it in the light furrow of your brow when you stare at him. You're still figuring out the answer that Ace already knows.

He would give anything to you if you fought him hard enough for it.)

"Takes one to know one," Ace goes on when you don't answer. He dares to reach out, brushes his fingers over the light curve of your cheekbone. "'sides, is it so bad? Being selfish, I mean. Can't imagine you've got any complaints."

"I'm not talking about your dream," you huff, hands braced on his chest. Sleep rests heavy upon your eyelids, calls for you to curl up in his bloody ribs and rest there forever. It is the sleepiness that lets you both indulge in this quiet intimacy, especially in the wake of battle.

"What, you just calling me selfish in general then?" Ace snorts, pinching your hip. You scowl, swatting him slightly.

"Yes. Yes. You're a selfish man, Ace Trappola."

"Takes one to know one," Ace echoes his prior words.

His hand trails from your face to your hip, squeezing the curve of it in his palm. You are warm and heavy and real in his hands, and he can't help the way his touch wanders like a curious child. The remnants of Malleus's magic still linger in his bones, in the deep crevices of his mind, and the way you're sitting on top of him doesn't help in the question still sitting in the back of his mind.

Is he still dreaming?

"Selfish," you say again, like a broken record.

Ace stares at your face. There's the furrow of your brow and the light downturn to your lips, the plump of the bottom jutting out slightly, as if you're about to cry. You say that you're not talking about his dream, but Ace knows better. He knows that it lingers in your mind, the thought of how he loves you enough to let you go home. The thought of how he loves you enough to let you live your own life while he learns to live without you in his.

(But he is still selfish. The line between dream and nightmare is drawn where he is sure that you would return to him, because of course you would return to him. Of course he would only accept your departure if he knew that you could somehow acquire a return ticket. You know this too.)

"Don't leave me," Ace whispers. He tries to make it sound less of a plea, less than a beg. He knows he is failing.

You swallow. "You're so selfish."

But Ace knows that you're more selfish. You are, perhaps, the most selfish one of all. It is in the searing warmth of your body, nearly burning through your clothes as you lean over him; in the cruelty of the way you press your lips against his like a prince rousing his princess from an eternal sleep, as if the two of you would ever have the blessing of living together happily forever after.

If this is a dream, Ace wishes that you would never wake him up.

[cressidagrey]

The Queen of Romantasy and the Race Car Prince - Chapter 7

Pairing: Lando Norris x Elizabeth "Lizzie" Treshton (Original Character)

Summary:

Elizabeth Treshton—bestselling romantasy author, queen of fae heartbreak, and sworn devotee of a carefully structured routine—never expected her service dog to abandon protocol and diagnose a Formula 1 driver with something. But that’s exactly what happens when Mara the wonder-dog ditches Lizzie’s side to aggressively alert to none other than Lando Norris in the middle of a coffee shop.

Warnings and Notes: 

Mention of epilepsy, seizures, memory loss, hospitals, vomiting, blood and service animals. I don't myself suffer from epilepsy, so I asked my IRL friend, who thankfully was nice enough to let me ask her all the questions I could come up with. The rest I asked Reddit. So everything that's wrong...that's totally my fault and not on purpose.

As always big thanks to @llirawolf , who listens to me ramble

Lizzie opened her eyes slowly, the world around her blurry and out of focus. She knew immediately she was in her hospital room, the smell of antiseptic and the dimmed lights a familiar, unwelcome presence.

She groaned softly, the small sound echoing faintly in the stillness of the room. Her throat felt like sandpaper, her mouth dry and aching. She tried to swallow, but her tongue felt too thick, sticking to the roof of her mouth.

“Welcome back,” Tasha said softly, and she turned her head to see her best friend.

"Tasha?" Lizzie croaked out, the simple word sounding like it was torn from her raw throat.

Tasha moved closer, her familiar face coming into focus. "Yeah, it’s me," she said with a quiet smile. "How are you feeling?"

Lizzie's forehead creased in a frown as she tried to take stock of her own body. "Everything hurts," she managed to say, her voice ragged.

Tasha reached out, her hand gentle as she tucked a strand of hair out of Lizzie's face. "I’d be surprised if it didn’t. You gave us quite a scare."

Tasha's eyes were filled with a mixture of affection and worry, something Lizzie was very familiar with.

Lizzie felt a twinge of guilt as she noticed the dark circles under Tasha's eyes, evidence that she'd probably spent the night here, watching over her once again.

“How bad?” She brought out weakly.

Tasha's face pulled into a frown, her usual carefree expression replaced by concern. "Bad," she said simply, not bothering to soften the blow.

Lizzie's eyes closed at the word, a wave of dread washing over her. She knew Tasha wasn't the kind to sugarcoat things, but still, hearing it confirmed was like a punch to the gut.

“You ripped out your IV line too by the way… your elbow is pretty ripped up…and you got stitches in your tongue.”

Lizzie let out a shuddering sigh, hearing the list of her injuries laid out in front of her.

“How many?” She asked weakly.

“Seizures? At least 6. But you were seizing when I found you and Mara was starting to get worried so we don’t know exactly.” Tasha said quietly. “Can you remember…anything?”

Lizzie’s brow furrowed as she tried to access her memories, but they were muddled and hazy. “Not much,” she admitted, her voice soft. “Just…flashes. And pain.”

Tasha nodded, her expression sympathetic. “That’s probably for the best, honestly. It wasn’t pretty.”

But there was something else…something important… “Who won Miami?” She croaked out.

Tasha laughed. “Your boyfriend did.”

Wait what?

Lizzie's eyes widened at Tasha's words. "Boyfriend?" she croaked out, her voice slightly higher than normal.

Tasha smirked, clearly amused by the mix of confusion and surprise on Lizzie's face. "Yep. Lando. Your boyfriend. He won Miami."

Lizzie's mind was reeling. Lando? Her boyfriend? She thought she must've been hallucinating. "He's not my boyfriend," she protested weakly.

Tasha raised an eyebrow, her face the portrait of skepticism. "Oh really? You want to tell me that the same bloke that flew around the globe the moment he heard that you were in the hospital after he finally won a Formula 1 Grand Prix isn't your boyfriend? The same guy that hasn't left you since you arrived? That keeps holding your hand?"

Tasha stared pointedly to the other side of her bed and Lizzie turned her head.

"It's all too much for little Lando Norris," Tasha chortled with some amusement.

Lando was there. deep asleep in a chair that Lizzie just knew was horribly uncomfortable.

Lizzie felt her heart skip a beat at the sight of him.

He looked exhausted. His hair was rumpled, his clothes slightly askew. There were bags under his eyes, and his mouth was open slightly as he snored softly, his head tilted back against the wall in a position that was bound to be painful.

It looked like he'd been there for a long time. Like he hadn't left her side at all.

Tasha chuckled softly. "Looks a bit cute when he sleeps," she commented, still amused. "Like a big ol’ puppy. Kinda like Mara. The only thing lacking is the twitching paws.”

Lizzie was still staring at Lando, feeling a strange mixture of emotions. She had so many questions. But right now, all she could focus on was the fact that he was here, fast asleep, keeping her company.

"Why..." Lizzie finally managed to get out, her voice hoarse. "Why is he..?"

Tasha's expression softened. "Because, love," she said gently. "That boy cares about you. A lot."

Lizzie swallowed thickly, her heart pounding in her chest. She was overwhelmed by the realisation. Lando cared for her. He cared enough to hop on a plane and fly halfway around the globe as soon as he found out she was hurt. And now, he was here. Fast asleep in a hospital chair, just so he could be near her.

Tasha patted her hand, clearly enjoying her inner turmoil. "Don’t look so shocked," she teased. "It’s not like it isn’t obvious.”

"Shut up," Lizzie grumbled weakly, still staring at Lando’s sleeping form.

"Though we are going to have a talk about the fact that you are dating a bloody F1 driver and haven't said a single word to me," Tasha told her with a snort. "A McLaren driver. Really?"

Lizzie rolled her eyes. "It's not like I planned it," she defended herself weakly. "It just happened."

Tasha shook her head, amused. "It just happened," she repeated drily. "With an F1 driver. I can’t believe you."

Lizzie huffed, turning her head to glare at her sister. But the effect was ruined by her exhaustion and the fact that she was propped up by a dozen pillows.

Tasha chuckled at her attempts to be intimidating, clearly not feeling threatened. "Relax, sweetie," she said. "I’m happy for you. But I am going to make fun of you for this."

Lizzie sighed, leaning her head back against her pillow. "You’re insufferable, you know that?"

Tasha grinned, her eyes sparkling. "Yeah, but you love me anyway."

"Besides, I am gonna go home now, and leave you with your boy," Tasha sing-songed. "You should thank me."

Lizzie groaned, letting her head drop back on her pillow. "Don’t leave,” she protested weakly.

Tasha just laughed, clearly enjoying her distress. "Don’t be such a baby. You’ve got your boyfriend to keep you company.”

"He’s asleep," Lizzie protested weakly, watching Lando’s sleeping form.

Tasha shrugged, undeterred. "So? Wake him up."

"I’m not going to wake him up." Lizzie grumbled, still eyeing Lando’s sleeping form. He looked adorable when his face was all relaxed.

Tasha smirked. "That’s because you enjoy watching him sleep," she teased. "Admit it."

Lizzie felt her face flush at her sister’s words, and she shot her a disapproving look. "I do not," she said stubbornly.

Tasha was clearly enjoying herself, her smirk growing wider. "Oh really? Then why are you blushing, hmm?"

Lizzie could feel her cheeks growing hotter, and she tried to hide her face, but the blasted hospital gown only exposed more of her already flushed face. "I’m not blushing. It's the drugs."

Tasha let out a hoot of laughter, clearly not buying her excuse. "Nice try. You're totally blushing and we both know why."

Lizzie grumbled, still staring at Lando's sleeping form. He was blissfully oblivious to their bickering, his snores still filling the room.

Tasha just smirked. "You know, it's kind of cute how you're watching him like a hawk," she teased.

Lizzie huffed, trying to ignore her sister's amusement. "I'm not watching him. I'm just... making sure he's comfortable."

"Sure, sure," Tasha said with a knowing smirk. "Because everyone knows the best way to make sure someone's comfortable is to stare at them like they're a cute puppy."

Lizzie shot her sister a withering look, but Tasha just chuckled. "Relax, Lizzie Lou. I’m just teasing you. I think it’s adorable."

Lizzie rolled her eyes, but she couldn’t hide the hint of a smile that was creeping onto her face.

Tasha smirked, noticing the change in her expression. "Aww, look at that. You’re not denying you think he’s cute."

Lizzie huffed, trying to salvage some pride. "I... I’m not saying he isn’t cute," she mumbled.

"Oho, so you do think he’s cute," Tasha teased, the smirk still plastered on her face.

Lizzie groaned, her face flushing again. "Shut up."

Tasha just laughed, clearly enjoying her sister's embarrassment. "Don’t worry. It’s cute. You're acting like a little school girl with a crush."

"Go away," she told Tasha.

Tasha just chuckled and ruffled Lizzie's hair affectionately. "Alright, alright. I’ll leave you to your staring. But I’m not done teasing you about this."

Lizzie groaned, burying her face in her pillow dramatically. "You’re the worst, you know that?"

Tasha grinned, clearly relishing in Lizzie's dramatics. "Yep, I know. But you love me anyway."

Lizzie grumbled but didn’t deny it. Tasha just laughed again. "Alright, I’m gonna leave you to your... ogling," she teased, her voice full of mirth.

Lizzie gritted her teeth at Tasha's teasing tone but didn’t object. "Just go," she said, her voice still hoarse.

Tasha grinned one last time. "Alright, alright. I’m going. Have fun with your ogling."

Lizzie just rolled her eyes and huffed, sinking back into the pillows with a sigh.

Tasha chuckled again as she ruffled Lizzie’s hair fondly. "Don’t drool too much."

Lizzie groaned and swat at her hand, but Tasha just laughed, dodging the weak blow.

"Good night, Lizzie," Tasha said as she started walking towards the door.

Lizzie just grumbled and made a face at her, but the effect was ruined by the fact that she was still propped up by pillows and looking exhausted.

Tasha just smirked at her attempted protest and blew her a kiss, amused by Lizzie's grumpy expression. "Sleep tight. And try not to stare at your boyfriend too much. You might creep him out."

Lizzie just rolled her eyes and blew a raspberry in response, a childish gesture that made Tasha laugh and shake her head.

With a final wave, Tasha disappeared out the door, leaving Lizzie alone with Lando, who was still fast asleep in the chair.

She turned her head to look at him, her heart doing a strange little flutter as she watched his chest rise and fall with each slow breath.

Despite Tasha's teasing, Lizzie couldn’t help but stare at Lando. He looked so endearingly tired, his normally carefully styled hair now sticking up in all directions. It was a side of him that not many people got to see, and Lizzie felt a strange sense of privilege at the fact that she was able to witness it.

Mara took that moment to decide that Lizzie made a better place to sleep than the bed and came crawling up.

Lizzie groaned as Mara clambered onto the bed, the dog's weight making the mattress dip.

"You cheeky thing," Lizzie murmured, reaching out to pet Mara under the chin. Mara just wagged her tail and settled down, curling up against Lizzie's side.

Lizzie chuckled softly, her hand buried in Mara's fur. "Comfy, huh? Using me as a pillow now, are we?"

Mara just closed her eyes and leaned into her touch, clearly comfortable and relaxed.

Lizzie continued to pet her, her fingers running over the soft fur. It was nice to have a little bit of normalcy. Even when it was just this.

She glanced over at Lando, still fast asleep, and couldn’t help but feel a pang of affection. He looked so adorable, his face relaxed in sleep, his lips slightly parted.

...and then Mara decided that slobbering and licking all over their entertwined hands was the thing to do.

That woke up Lando, no question about that.

Lando’s eyes shot open at the unexpected sensation of Mara licking at his hands. He jerked upright, startled out of his sleep, and looked down at his now slobbery hand.

He glanced over at Lizzie, who was trying (and failing) to stifle a laugh.

"What the...?" Lando muttered, clearly befuddled and a little annoyed. He wiped his hand on the material of his trousers, trying to get rid of the slobber.

Lizzie couldn’t help but let out a soft giggle at his expression. "Sorry," she said, trying to keep her voice steady. "Mara thought you needed some extra canine affection."

Lando gave Lizzie an exasperated look, his annoyance melting away at the sound of her laugh. "Right," he said drily, shaking his head. "Because nothing says "affection" like having a dog slobber all over you while you’re trying to sleep.”

She wanted to laugh, but all that came out was: "You are here," Lizzie said weakly.

Lando looked over at her, his expression softening as he took in her weak form. "Yeah," he said quietly. "I am."

The simple words held so much weight in the quiet of the room, and Lizzie felt a surge of emotions. She had never been so glad to see someone in her life.

"You...you didn’t have to come all this way," Lizzie managed to say, her throat still raw.

Lando shook his head. "Yes, I did," he said, his voice firm. "You...you scared me, you know? Hearing what happened... I had to come."

Lizzie’s heart ached at the vulnerability in his voice, and she wanted nothing more than to reach out and touch him, to reassure him. But the IVs and monitors kept her firmly tethered to the bed.

Instead, she settled for a small smile. "I’m fine, you know," she said weakly. "Just a bit... sore."

Llando gave her a look that clearly said he didn’t believe her. "You call being hooked up to all these machines and having multiple seizures 'just a bit sore'?" he asked, his tone slightly harsh.

Lizzie flinched at the harshness in his tone, but she knew he was right. "Alright, alright," she mumbled. "Maybe it’s a bit more than just 'a bit sore'. But I’m still alive, aren’t I?"

Lando sighed and ran a hand through his already unruly hair. "Yeah," he admitted, his voice hoarse. "But... God, it's been so damn scary, Liz."

“I thought… you didn’t answer any of my text messages,” he said weakly.

Lizzie’s heart sank at his words. She hadn’t meant to worry him.

“I’m sorry,” she whispered.

Lando shook his head and let out a hoarse laugh. "Of course you’re apologising," he said, his voice filled with a mix of irritation and affection. "You just went through hell and back and you’re apologising to me."

Lizzie just gave him a small smile. "Well, you know me," she said weakly. "I’m a big softie."

Lando huffed and ran a hand over his face. He looked exhausted and incredibly anxious, and it was clear that he had been worried sick about her.

“You won?” She asked him.

Lando looked at her in confusion for a moment before understanding dawned on his face.

"Oh," he said, a small smile tugging at the corners of his mouth. "Yeah. I won."

Lizzie's eyes widened in surprise. "You did?" she asked, unable to keep the awe out of her voice.

Lando nodded, the pride in his eyes clear. "Yeah, I did."

A mixture of emotions washed over Lizzie - pride, amazement, but also sadness. Lando had won, but she hadn’t been there to witness it.

She swallowed thickly, the words sticking in her throat. "I... I wish I could have seen it," she said, her voice hoarse.

Lando’s expression softened, and he reached out to take her hand. "I’ll show you the highlights when you're feeling better, alright? You just focus on getting better."

Lizzie felt the comforting warmth of Lando's hand gripping hers, and she gave him a small, grateful smile.

"You better show me everything," she told him, her voice still weak. "I want to see every lap, every overtake. No skipping."

Lando chuckled softly, his thumb stroking the back of her hand. "Deal," he promised.

They were quiet for a moment, their hands still holding. Lizzie studied Lando's face, taking in weary lines and the dark circles under his eyes. It was clear that he hadn’t gotten much rest since the accident.

"When was the last time you slept?" Lizzie said quietly, breaking the silence.

“Literally five minutes ago, you woke me,” he said with a snort.

“From a nap on a hospital chair. I know how uncomfortable these are,” she shot back. “I meant in a real bed.”

Lando grimaced at the mention of the hospital chair. "Yeah, this chair is brutal," he agreed. "My back is killing me."

Lizzie chuckled weakly. "Maybe you should just get in the bed with me," she said teasingly. 

Lando’s eyes widened at her words, and he looked at her sceptically. "Are you sure that’s a good idea? You know, with the IV lines and all that."

Lizzie shrugged noncommittally. "I don’t think the nurse will mind," she said, her tone still teasing. "I’ll just tell them you’re my emotional support F1 driver."

Lando let out a snort of laughter at her words, his lips curving into a grin. "Yeah, I’m sure that’s a completely normal arrangement," he said sarcastically.

"Hey, it’s a valid medical need," Lizzie said with mock seriousness. "I need my F1 driver cuddles to help me heal."

Lando rolled his eyes, but he was still grinning. "You’re ridiculous, you know that?"

Lizzie feigned an offended expression. "Me? Ridiculous? I’m wounded, I’ll have you know.

Lando chuckled at her dramatic act. "Oh, trust me, I know you’re wounded. You’ve got enough cables and tubes attached to you to prove that."

Lizzie stuck her tongue out at him playfully. "Yeah, rub it in, why don’t you. I’m already suffering enough. I think the least you can do is give me some cuddles."

Lando pretended to consider her request for a moment before sighing dramatically. "Fine," he said, putting on a show of resignation. "I suppose I can sacrifice myself for your healing purposes."

Lizzie grinned victoriously as Lando stood up from the chair. He maneuvered himself onto the bed carefully, trying not to disturb the IV lines.

Once he was settled, Lizzie scooted closer to him, feeling the warmth of his body radiating through their clothes. She buried her face into his side, inhaling his familiar scent.

Lando wrapped his arm around her gently, his hand resting on the small of her back. "This better not be a ploy to steal all my body heat," he joked.

“Can you give me my phone?” She requested

Lando nodded and reached over to the bedside table, where Lizzie’s phone was resting. He grabbed it and handed it to her.

"Here you go," he said, "but don’t get too sucked into it. You need to rest."

Lizzie rolled her eyes playfully as she took her phone. "Relax, I’m just going to check my messages."

Lando eyed her suspiciously. "You’re not going to play Candy Crush or something, are you?"

Lizzie gave him a wounded look. "I’m only going to check my messages."

She opened the phone and started scrolling through her inbox. Lando shifted next to her, getting more comfortable as he made himself at home.

“…by the way, just ignore what I wrote you,” he said suddenly.

Lizzie looked up from her phone, a puzzled expression on her face. "Ignore what?" she asked, unsure of what he was talking about.

Lando let out a sigh, a weary look in his eyes. "Just… ignore any of the texts or voicemails I sent you while you were in here. They’re stupid, and they don’t matter."

Lizzie’s curiosity was piqued. She set her phone down and looked at him, her expression soft. "Why? What did you say?"

Lando ran a hand through his hair, his expression sheepish. "Just… things I shouldn’t have said. Things I didn’t mean. I was just... frustrated, and worried, and not thinking straight. I didn’t mean any of it, seriously."

Lizzie felt a pang of guilt in her chest. She could only imagine what kind of things he’d written or said to her while she’d been unconscious.

"Hey," she said softly, reaching out to place a comforting hand on his arm. "I’m sure it wasn’t that bad. You don’t have to feel embarrassed."

Lando let out a hoarse laugh, the sound lacking any real humor. "Trust me, it was. I was… not in a good headspace, and I may have said some things you didn’t need to hear."

Lizzie’s heart ached. She could imagine how stressful this situation had been for him and she couldn’t help but feel a little responsible for the pain he’s been through.

"I don’t care what you said," she said firmly, her grip on his arm tightening. "I still care about you, you big dummy."

Still, she scrolled through her text messages…and tapped on Lando’s name, scrolling up till her last message to him.

And then she got to read all of it.

Lizzie's heart sank as she read through the messages Lando had sent her, each one filled with panic, worry, and a hint of angry frustration. She could tell that he had been struggling, that the stress and worry had gotten the best of him.

She swallowed the lump in her throat and kept reading, each message more emotional and desperate than the last.

And the fact that he had thought she didn’t care about his win…that she was simply ghosting him…

As she continued reading, Lizzie's heart ached with every message. She could feel the pain, the fear, the frustration radiating from his words. And the fact that he had thought she was ignoring him… that she didn’t care about his win… that stung like a dagger to her heart.

The messages were a stark contrast to the Lando she knew, the confident, carefree guy who seemed to take everything in stride. These messages revealed a side of him that was vulnerable, insecure, and desperately in need of reassurance.

“Lando.”

Lando's attention snapped back to Lizzie, his eyes widening in surprise. "Yeah?" he asked, his voice hoarse.

Lizzie let out a heavy sigh, her hand trembling as she held up the phone. "Did you really think I would just... ignore your messages like that? That I didn't care about your win?"

Lando fidgeted uncomfortably under her gaze, his eyes flickering away from hers. "I...I don't know," he muttered, his voice hoarse. "I just... you didn't reply, and I thought... I thought you were angry with me or something."

Lizzie's heart ached at his words. She could see the guilt and shame etched on his face, and she knew that he was beating himself up over his reaction.

"I… I was unconscious, Lando," she said softly. "I couldn’t exactly respond."

Lando let out a frustrated huff, his eyes still averting hers. "I know that," he said, his voice filled with regret. "I know that now, and I feel like an idiot for even thinking that. But at the time, I was just... scared. And angry. And worried."

Lizzie could see the mix of emotions on his face - guilt, shame, regret, and still that tinge of anger at himself. She scooted a little closer to him, her hand reaching out to take his.

"Hey, look at me," she said softly.

Lando bit his lip, his eyes flickering up to meet hers reluctantly. He looked so weary, so tired, like he was carrying the weight of the world on his shoulders.

Lizzie took a deep breath, trying to choose her words carefully. "I want you to know that I would never, ever intentionally ignore you. Especially for something as important as your first win. I know how much it means to you. I care about you.”

Lando let out a hoarse laugh, his expression still marred with guilt. "I know you care about me," he said, his voice hoarse. "I just... I don’t know. Maybe I was just feeling selfish. I just wanted to hear from you, y’know?"

Lizzie nodded, her thumb rubbing soothing circles on the back of his hand. "I get it," she said softly. "I really do. But you have to know that I would never ignore you like that. You mean too much to me."

Lando’s expression softened, the tension in his shoulders easing a little. "I’m sorry," he said, his voice laced with regret. "I’m sorry for being an idiot. I should’ve handled things better."

"Hey," Lizzie said softly, her grip on his hand tightening. "You were worried. And scared. I get it. But you need to stop beating yourself up about it. I’m fine. We’re both fine. And I’m not going anywhere, okay?"

Lando let out a heavy sigh, his shoulders finally sagging in defeat. He looked at Lizzie, his expression weary but genuine. "Okay," he murmured. "Okay. I just... I needed to hear that, I guess."

Lizzie gave him a small smile, her hand still holding his. "You don’t have anything to be sorry for, you idiot," she said teasingly. "Just... try not to jump to conclusions next time, alright?"

Lando let out a huff of laughter, his expression finally lightening a bit. "Yeah, yeah, I’ll try," he said, a hint of his usual teasing tone back in his voice.

“And I am so fucking proud of you,” Lizzie told him softly.

Lando's expression softened, the guilt and worry in his eyes fading away. "You...you are?" he asked, like he couldn't quite believe her words.

Lizzie nodded fervently, her grip on his hand tightening. "Of course I am," she said firmly. "You won, Lando. You actually did it. I’m so incredibly proud of you."

Lando let out a shaky breath, his eyes welling up with emotion. "You really... you really mean that?" he asked, his voice hoarse.

Lizzie's heart ached at the vulnerability in his voice. She wanted nothing more than to hold him close and tell him how proud she was.

"I do," she said softly. "I really do. You’re incredible, Lando. You have no idea how amazing you are."

Lando sniffed, trying to hold back the tears that were threatening to spill. "You’re just saying that because you’re drugged up," he said, a hint of his usual teasing tone still in his voice.

Lizzie rolled her eyes playfully. "I’m not that drugged up," she said, poking his side with her free hand. "I can still think clearly enough to know how incredible you are."

So incredible. She managed to lean up, and press a chaste kiss against his lips.

“Incredible enough that I get to call you my girlfriend? He asked her hoarsely as she pulled back.

Lizzie's heart fluttered at his words, her cheeks heating up.

"Of course you get to call me your girlfriend," she said, a soft smile playing on her lips. "And I get to call you my boyfriend. The incredible, amazing, F1 race-winning boyfriend."

[svetamillss]

Omg I love your headcanons but can you do a fluffy and silly one where the reader ask them an impossible question? Something like “if I punch myself and it hurts, would that make me weak or strong?”

Characters i suggest: Thanos, Junhee, Saebyeok, Se-mi, Namgyu, Hyunju, Jiyeong, Youngmi, Daeho please 🙏

Headcanons: if I punch myself and it hurts, would that make me weak or strong?💗

Featuring: Cho Hyun Ju x Reader(f), Thanos (Su Bong) x Reader(f), Kim Jun Hee x Reader(f), Kang Sae Byeok x Reader(f), Se Mi x Reader(f), Nam Gyu x Reader(f), Ji Yeong x Reader(f), Kim Young Mi x Reader(f), Kang Dae Ho x Reader(f)

A/N: Thank you very much for such a wonderful order! Please show an asset at this job. Also, those headcanons that were supposed to be today are postponed, sorry!

💗💗💗

It all happened when you and your partner decided to arrange a date and watch a movie in a hug, but while you were choosing which movie to watch, you got bored and that's what happened.

Cho Hyun Ju

- My love, if I punch myself and it hurts, would that make me weak or strong?

• She even choked a little and looked at you excitedly.

- Baby, did you beat yourself up?

- No! I just became interested, so I decided to ask.

• Ju calmly exhaled, and then laughed at your question.

- You're the strongest girl, and you don't have to beat yourself to prove it somehow.

- Am I really strong? You always protect me.

- Very strong. And I'm protecting you, because I love you very much.

• After that, she lovingly kissed you on the lips and you continued to choose the movie you wanted to watch.

Thanos (Su Bong)

- Honey, if I punch myself and it hurts, would that make me weak or strong?

• He looked at you with a strange face, he was obviously nervous about your question.

- Is this some kind of test with a trick? On the topic: am I a good guy?

- Nooo! I just decided to ask.

- I know you, you never just ask like that! There is definitely a correct answer there and if I answer incorrectly, you will be offended by me and we will not watch the movie.

• Yes, with your boyfriend such jokes are bad and it's better not to arrange them, you decided not to ask him further, but just kiss him on the lips, making it clear that everything is fine and you don't need to answer.

– Silly, don't ask me such questions anymore, I'll turn gray much faster!

Kim Jun Hee

- My love, if I punch myself and it hurts, would that make me weak or strong?

• The girl first thought about your question, she was not used to hearing such a thing.

- Can you repeat the question again?

– If I punch myself and it hurts, would that make me weak or strong?

- Is there any catch here?

- No, I just became interested.

• Hee thought a little more, then gave a clear answer with a serious face.

- Strong.

- Why?

- But it's not that you hit yourself, I missed it, because it's better never do it, you're strong and without it.

• You have a wonderful girlfriend and you understood that you were not mistaken in your choice.

Kang Sae Byeok

- Darling, if I punch myself and it hurts, would that make me weak or strong?

• You didn't hear the answer, the girl just kept looking for a movie that could be turned on?

- Sae Byeok..

• There was no answer.

- Why are you silent?

- Table.

- What? What does the table have to do with it? Did you even hear me?

- I heard, I answer stupid questions stupidly. You asked a stupid question, so I answer stupidly.

• You blushed, you were a little ashamed of your question, because you knew the girl's character.

- If you have nothing to do, please bring snacks while I turn on the movie.

Se Mi

- My love, if I punch myself and it hurts, would that make me weak or strong?

- God, honey, what nonsense are you asking?

- I'm just curious!

• The girl sighed heavily, looking at you.

- Only fools ask such things, and you're a smart girl and you understand that you don't need to beat yourself to prove that you're strong.

- Well..

- And don't look at the site anymore with stupid questions that will embarrass your soulmate!

• Se Mi pretended to be offended, but you saw how she barely held back a smile.

- Why is that??

- Because I'll take revent you and ask for something like that too.

• She was very serious, you both laughed at this whole situation later.

Nam Gyu

- Kitten, if I punch myself and it hurts, would that make me weak or strong?

• The guy suddenly began to look around, as if he was looking for something.

- What are you doing?

- The hidden camera you put.

- Why should I put it?

- To record a prank on your boyfriend in Tik Tok! I've seen similar videos!

• You laughed at Gyu, and he looked at you with a little anger.

- It was a joke, I just got bored.

- You know how they say that all troubles have the same beginning - the girl was sitting and bored!

• He was just afraid to do something wrong, so he got nervous.

Ji Yeong

- Baby, if I punch myself and it hurts, would that make me weak or strong?

• She didn't even think about it and answered pretty quickly.

- You would be crazy.

- Hey, why is that?

- First of all: I have a crazy girlfriend. Secondly: do normal people do this?

• She stared at you with a smile that made you blush.

- Come on! I'm just bored.

- It would be better to use your language for another instead of chatter.

• And she embarrassed you again, maybe you won't finish watching the selected movie.

Kim Young Mi

- Sweetness, if I punch myself and it hurts, would that make me weak or strong?

• She looked at you with great excitement and you felt uncomfortable.

- Are you beating yourself??? Why didn't you tell me that before???

- Quieter, quieter! I'm not beating myself! I saw such a joke on the Internet, I decided to ask you something like this.

• She looked at you with incomprehension, and you decided not to continue this topic.

- Okay, let's not talk about it, stupid joke.

- Strong..

• She said very quietly, but you still heard her and a warm smile appeared on your face.

Kang Dae Ho

- Darling, if I punch myself and it hurts, would that make me weak or strong?

• The guy looked at you with a smile, and then said loudly and clearly as if he was honoring the army general.

- YOU ARE A STRONG GIRL AND ALL YOUR ACTIONS PROVE IT!

• You were pleased to hear and embarrassed, as you understood that the guy did not fully understand the essence of the question, but decided not to ask about it anymore.

- Thank you!

- I love you very much! I am ready to answer any of your questions!

💗💗💗

[rex-rambles]

➤ SPOTTED (SMAU)

pairing: lewis hamilton x singer!reader

summary: you and Lewis Hamilton keep getting spotted together...which could mean nothing.

warnings: none! faceclaim: Raye :) 

➤ MASTERLIST

Liked by zendaya, lewishamilton, and 2,007,841 others

yourusername my first MET! Such an honour <3

↳ lewishamilton killing it, as always

↳ yourusername couldn't even go one event without photobombing me 🙄

↳ brocedes their friendship is so wholesome!!

↳ fan92 gorgeous gorgeous girl

↳ fan44 like it's unreal

↳ f1-fanatic lewis really can't go a day without talking about @/yourusername, huh? 

liked by yourusername

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f1gossip Lewis Hamilton was spotted out and about with friends in New York after the MET Gala this weekend!

↳ carcarcar look who it is 👀 

↳ fan44 first MET Gala crumbs, and now this??

↳ fan920 people can just be friends (please @/yourusername I can't compete with Lewis) 

↳ fan44 they're always spotted together, at this point they have to be paying the paparazzi or something

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Liked by yourusername, lewishamilton, and others

mercedesamgf1 some familiar faces joining us in the paddock today!

↳ yourusername thank you so much for having me and letting me meet Alicia Keys 🙏

↳ fan12 future collaboration in the works??

↳ yourusername I WISH

↳ mclar_win I love that @/yourusername is just lurking off to the side, like why not take a photo with her??

↳ fan294 lewis couldn't afford the photo-op 🥱 liked by yourusername

↳ fan2 Lewis and @/yourusername?? together?? again?? shocking

↳ f1-fanatic are they dating?

↳ fan66 who knows at this point 

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Liked by mercedesamgf1, lewishamilton, and 2,021,181 others

yourusername nothing wrong with a little greenery 🍃

↳ fan44 Lewis and the Mercedes account lurking

↳ fan533 ur so hot its crazy

↳ carcarcar ROSCOE????

↳ f1-fanatic my reaction exactly

↳ fan92 marry me?? please?? 

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Liked by yourusername, lewishamilton, and others

gqsports Ever wonder what it's like to be an F1 driver? Lewis Hamilton answers some of your burning questions in our latest interview, including what he does on the days that his dog, Roscoe, can't join him! Video up now, link in bio.

↳ brocedes Lewis has dogsitters all over the world, apparently

↳ fan92 "friend in New York" just say @/yourusername

↳ f1-fanatic we all saw the post

↳ fan533 admit you're both in love with each other already, this is getting ridiculous

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Liked by yourusername, charlesleclerc, and others

lewishamilton Red's been looking good on me lately

↳ carcarcar THE HARD LAUNCH WE'VE BEEN WAITING FOR

↳ fan66 I can't believe it

↳ mclar_win finally! Congrats to you both 

↳ yourusername ❤️❤️❤️

↳ lewishamilton 🌹

↳ fan533 his Ferrari phase is going to be so good...@/yourusername in Ferrari red? Even better

-

Liked by lewishamilton, lando, and 2,430,021 others

yourusername happy 2 year anniversary, mr. heart eyes hamilton

↳ mclar_win TWO YEARS?!?!

↳ fan533 how did you hide a relationship THAT LONG?

↳ yourusername we're masterminds, obviously

↳ f1-fanatic okay taylor swift liked by lewishamilton

↳ lewishamilton trying out a new nickname?

↳ yourusername you've always been heart eyes hamilton to me, baby

↳ georgerussell63 do you know how hard this was to keep a secret??

↳ lando you told everyone in the paddock two days after you found out

↳ yourusername GEORGE??

↳ georgerussell63 snitch

a/n: if lewis hamilton and raye start dating? I called it, folks

[shanastoryteller]

Dean is taking too long in the basement.

He should have been right behind him, but he isn’t. Sam gets the kids out and goes running back downstairs, gun held in front of him, which ends up being pointless. The rawhead is head.

For a moment, he thinks Dean is too.

He’s pale and cold in the water and Sam sees the tazer and knows exactly what happened and if his brother is dead, he doesn’t care about personal gain or consequences or any of that shit, he’s brining him back no matter what.

But his pulse flutters weak and too fast under his fingers and Sam doesn’t even spare a moment for relief before he’s shouting, “CHRIS! CHRIS! I need you!”

Nothing happens.

Fear clogs his throat. “Paige! Wyatt! Leo!”

He never bothers the others. He’s trained with them, even fought with them while he was at Stanford, but at the end of the day he’s just another witch and Chris is his whitelighter. But his brother is dying.

No one comes.

He calls 911 then, because as long as Dean isn’t dead then he can be healed, and he’ll worry about what’s going on with the Halliwells later.

~

The doctors can’t do anything, Dean’s already resigned himself to death, and no one’s answering his calls.

He’s pacing in the hall outside of his brother’s room, not wanting Dean to see him unraveling but not able to bring himself to go too far away. It’s not like he’s going to drop dead the second Sam looks away, he knows that.

He knows that.

It doesn’t matter if no one’s answering his calls. He knows other witches, he can track down another whitelighter if he has to. Even then, whitelighter healing is the best solution, but not the only one. He’s loathe to attempt a healing spell on his brother, just in case it goes wrong, but he knows the stasis ones well enough. Dean won’t like being put in a glass case like Snow White, but it’ll keep him alive while Sam finds a solution.

“Sam!”

He turns to see Chris striding toward him and he should be relieved, he is relieved, but the terror and stress he’s been managing since yesterday all course through him at once and come out as rage. He grabs the front of Chris’s shirt and slams him into the wall, thankful there’s no one around. “Where the hell have you been?”

Chris doesn’t fight him, not that it would do him much good to try. Chris may be the stronger witch, but Sam can hand him his ass easily. “Sam-”

“Dean electrocuted himself saving children,” he says, “He almost died! He – they said – his heart–” It’s almost too much for him all over again, but then he notices the blood down Chris’s neck, the smell of smoke clinging to his clothes, the bone deep exhaustion that Chris is so good at hiding from everyone except for him and Wyatt and occasionally Phoebe. “Are you okay?”

“I’m sorry,” he says, and Sam wonders if his grip is pressing him down or holding him up. “There was a demon attack, we were in the underworld. They had Peyton, we didn’t,” he shakes his head. “It doesn’t matter. I’m your whitelighter, I should have–”

“Shut up,” Sam says gently. He pushes Chris’s hair aside, but whatever wound left the blood is long gone. “You’re not just my whitelighter. You’re my friend. I know you wouldn’t not answer for no reason, sorry, I just. It’s Dean.”

He offers him a weak grin. “Yeah, I know. Older brothers, right? Always causing problems.”

Chris knows that better than most.

“Sam, I can’t heal him here,” he says quietly.

“I know,” Sam says. “Secrecy, mortals, I get it. I’ll get him out of here and to the motel, then I’ll call you, alright?"

“Alright,” Chris says, then frowns. “What are you going to tell him? He’s going to have questions.”

“He’ll get over it,” Sam says firmly. “I wouldn’t expose you guys like that.”

Chris shrugs. “I mean, I get why you don’t want to tell him, with your dad and everything, but he does have a right to know. Just because his powers are bound doesn’t mean he’s not a witch too.”

Sam stares.

He frowns. “What?”

“You,” he starts, then changes tracks. “Dean’s a witch?”

Now Chris is the one staring. “Of course he is. It runs in families. If you’re a witch, Dean’s a witch. He’s just had his powers bound and you haven’t.”

“But,” he starts. “Why?”

He shrugs. “You were too young. Doing it before the child’s first birthday can lead to, uh, some strange results.”

Sam understands that him being a witch descended from Melinda Warren means his mother was a witch, but he’d never really thought about it before. She knew what he was, what Dean was, and had planned to keep it from them forever. If she hadn’t died when he was six months old, she would have bound his powers too.

He doesn’t know how to feel about that. He doesn’t have the space to figure it out now. “Okay. Well, that’s probably a conversation more appropriate for when he doesn’t have a heart condition. Go, clean up, I’ll call you when we’re ready.” Chris nods, but before he goes Sam grabs his wrist. “Hey. Peyton’s okay, right?”

He grins. “She’s good. And maybe next time she won’t think it’s a good idea to sneak to the underworld alone.”

Knowing Peyton, it probably won’t be much of a deterrent.

~

Dean isn’t afraid of dying.

It’s just that this is a really bad time.

Dad’s missing, the demon that killed their mother is after Sam’s girlfriend, never mind what the hell is going on with Sam and the weirdo vision he’d had about their house. Vision. It’s enough for sweat to prick out over his skin in worry.

And now this, him frying his heart and leaving Sam on his own, the one thing he never wanted to do.

“Hey.”

He looks up, trying to force a smirk, but it falls off and he’s just left blinking. Sam’s lost the stubborn fragility he had before, smiling at him like everything’s going to be fine. Maybe it will be. There’s a jump in his chest that he thinks might be hope and not his heart giving out on him.

“We’re getting out of here,” Sam says, slapping his leg. “AMA, come on, you know the drill.”

“Alright,” he says, bemused. If he’s going to die, he hadn’t been all that keen to do it in a hospital bed anyway.

The doctor is less than impressed. Dean lets do Sam do all the talking and eventually the doctor rounds on him and demands, “Why are you doing this? It makes no sense!”

He actually has no idea why he’s doing this, so he just shrugs. “If my brother says we’re going, then we’re going.”

Which is apparently not the right answer by the way he goes white to the lips, but Sam smiles at him, so he really can’t bring himself to care.

They eventually get out there, Sam helping him from the wheelchair to the Impala, and being back in his baby, even in the passenger side, is another hit of relief. Of course they reach a second problem when they get to the motel and Dean realizes he’s not certain he can make it to the door.

Sam rolls his eyes, parking the car as close to the room as they can get, and says, “Don’t be a baby. I won’t tell anyone if you won’t.”

He considers arguing against it, but he’s exhausted, there’s no one around, and he’s already lost a significant amount of big brother credibility by getting fried in the first place.

“Shut up,” he mutters, but only rolls his eyes before looping an arm around Sam’s neck. He grimaces when Sam gets an arm under his knees, lifting him up with at least a grunt of effort. He’s kind of irritated that his baby brother can lift him this easily at all, even though it’s not exactly a surprise. Sam’s grown up a lot since he left for Stanford, adding inches of height and muscle, and it’s not exactly like he was a weakling when he left. Still, being carried by his little brother like a princess is almost as bad for his ego as nearly dying in the first place.

Sam doesn’t comment on it, however, easing him down on the bed closest to the door, even though he’d be a speed bump at best to anything coming after them. It sends a well of fondness through him that he expresses through a scowl.

“Lay down and keep your eyes shut, okay?” Sam says. “No matter what you hear or feel.”

Dean blinks at him. He figured Sam had a plan, but he hadn’t expected it to be so immediate. “Why? What are you doing?”

“Not letting you die,” he answers promptly. “Don’t argue with me. It’s not going to hurt. Just trust me for five minutes, okay?”

He’s been trusting Sam for a lot longer than five minutes. “Fine, whatever.”

He lays down on his own, because he can at least do that, and Sam doesn’t look nervous or worried or guilty, so whatever thing he’s about to try is probably fine. Although he really has no idea what the hell Sam thinks he’s going to pull out that can fix his heart, but he closes his eyes and waits.

There’s the sound of the door opening and closing, which he hadn’t expected. A moment later it opens again, but there are two sets of footsteps. He tenses. “Sam?”

“It’s alright,” Sam says, his large hand settling warm and comfortable on Dean’s shoulder. “Just relax.”

Relax? How the hell does Sam expect him to relax when –

There’s a hand on his chest, one he doesn’t recognize, and he barely keeps from leaping off the bed. Then there’s a warmth, something comforting, like being held by his mother or his dad’s proud look or how it feels every time Sam reaches for him. Then he’s breathing in, chest expanding comfortably in a way it hasn’t since he was electrocuted. He’s not cold anymore, not exhausted, the creeping feeling of death chasing him whisked away in a matter of seconds.

It leaves him terrified.

“Sam?” he says, and it takes everything to keep his eyes squeezed shut.

There’s the sound of the door opening and closing again and Sam says, “It’s okay, you’re okay,” and Dean’s eyes pop open and he’s shoving himself onto his feet.

It’s nothing, it’s easy, just like it was a day ago. Sam is smiling, relieved and okay, and Dean grabs onto his shoulders and shakes him. “What was that? Who was that? What did you do, Sammy?”

“A friend,” Sam says. “Dean, don’t worry, it didn’t cost me anything.”

He scoffs. “Right, because what – hoodoo priests and witches or whatever the hell that was just help out hunters from the goodness of their hearts? What did you do?”

Sam presses a hand to his chest, where his heart is now beating strong and sure in his chest, none of that stuttery crap of before. “I didn’t give anything. It’s okay. Sometimes people just help each other out because they’re good people, Dean. Like you do, when you saved those kids last night.”

“We saved those kids,” he corrects, because he wouldn’t have been able to both fight the rawhead and get the kids out on his own. He and Sam did it together.

“Right,” Sam says, mouth tugged up in the corner. “There’s no trick, no price. They’re someone I know that was willing to help, that’s all.”

Dean presses for more information, but Sam refuses to give it, and eventually he has to give it up. At least for now.

He’s glad he’s alive. He’s glad he won’t be leaving Sam alone.

And most of all, he’s glad he’s going to be around to pry out of Sam whatever secrets he’s keeping from him.

let the beltane fires burn

The Halliwells are descended from Melinda Warren, are the branch in which the greatest power resides, the line that would birth the most powerful witches to walk the earth.

It's not the only line.

Deanna knows about hunters, knows what they don’t know and don’t understand and that they killed her family. But Samuel didn’t kill her family. Samuel’s a good man who saves innocents, the same way she was raised to, if not how she was raised to do it.

She’s all alone. It’s not safe to be a witch.

The day before her wedding, she binds her powers.

When Mary is a year and a day, she does the same to her. It’s safer this way. Better. The world is so unkind to witches, even ones like them, born into it, with their power baked into their blood. Better to fight evil with bullets and knives than the strange terrible thing she’s destined to give her daughter, that her daughter is destined to pass along to her own daughters.

She never tells Samuel. There’s no reason to.

When Mary is old enough, when she’s talking of running and rebelling and all those things Samuel thinks will never come to pass and Deanna knows almost certainly will – running and rebelling is in her blood as surely as the magic, but there’s no binding potion for that – she tells her daughter what they are. What she’ll have to do to keep her future daughters safe, if she has them. It’s the only potion she ever teaches Mary how to brew, the only one she’ll ever need.

The day after Dean’s first birthday, Marry brews the potion and feeds it to him. He cries more after, doesn’t settle as quickly, and John worries and Mary reassures him and tells herself she’s done the right thing. Whatever it is that Dean feels he’s lost, he’s better off without it. She’s going to be normal. Her children are going to be normal.

She intends to do the same for Sammy, but she burns above his crib when he’s six months old.

~

John sees Sammy levitate a toy towards him when he’s two years old and shouts so loudly that he drops it, tears running down his face and wailing in the face of his father’s anger. Dean comes running from the other room and reaches for Sammy, letting his brother’s chubby fingers tangle in his shirt. “What’s wrong?” he asks, eyes wide.

He doesn’t answer, rubbing his hand over his face and heart pounding in his chest.

What did that demon do to his son?

What did it turn him into?

Is Sammy even human anymore?

He doesn’t react to salt, to holy water, to silver. John loses his temper every time something moves inexplicably and eventually it stops, by the time Sam’s in kindergarten he’s just like all the other kids.

John watches, fear and suspicion and something uglier caught up inside of him.

What is his son?

~

Sam figures out young that he’s a freak.

Dad and Dean just think he’s weak, just think he has nightmares, and he lets them. He only practices the telekinesis when he’s alone and every time he almost gathers the courage to tell his brother or father about it, to finally come clean, he’s viciously reminded how much they hate the things they hunt, how they’d never accept it, accept him, and as soon as he tells them what he is, he’ll lose them.

He doesn’t know what he is, really. Only that he’s not normal.

Eventually he stops seeing things in his sleep, instead getting them when he’s awake, more vivid and real than the monsters that plague his dreams. He sees people being hurt, people who need help, and it goes against everything he’s been taught to leave them to their fate.

But how can he explain it to his family? He can’t.

He’s thirteen the first time he sneaks out and saves a woman from one of his visions, finding her in the dark alley he’d seen her die in. He puts a bullet in the man’s chest, but it barely stops him, and then she and him both are getting a fireball thrown at them.

Sam shoves his hand in front of him, pushing back against the heat, refusing to die the same way his mother died.

The fireball returns to the man, catching him in the chest and he screams, disappearing into the fire until he’s nothing more than a smudge on the ground.

“Wow,” the woman breathes. Sam turns to her, trying to come up with some sort of explanation, when she continues, “I’ve never met a witch with active powers before.”

“I’m not a witch,” he says automatically, thinking of bargains made with demons, of hex bags and rotting meat and blood sacrificed.

She looks between him and the smudge on the ground incredulously. “Are you sure about that?”

Yes. No.

He doesn’t know what he is.

She leads him back to her apartment, stacks books into hix arms, and then makes him a sandwich when his stomach rumbles. His age worries her, his ignorance worries her even more, and everything she’s saying sounds like kooky new age bullshit except for the way that it explains everything he’s never been able to.

There are witches and demons and monsters nothing like anything his father’s ever talked about.

~

It’s easy to research, at least, because his dad thinks there’s a kernel of truth in every piece of supernatural bullshit. Dean makes fun of him for digging into girly, feel-good crap rather than the harder stuff, but his dad just seems relieved he’s taking an interest all. Sam starts taking notes, keeps them all in a folder until Dad buys him a journal, patting his back when he hands it over like it’s a rite of passage.

To Dad, it’s his first hunting journal.

Sam runs his hand down the soft leather spine and knows he’s starting his book of shadows.

The visions don’t stop. He saves more innocents, some witches and some mortal, and keeps the record of all the creatures he’s killed in Latin to discourage Dad and Dean from snooping. He uses his telekinesis on hunts only when there’s no other option, only when there’s someone’s life on the line, and he’s as careful as he can be not to get caught.

It should be a relief, to find out there are other people like him, to know that he’s a force for good in the world.

There’s no way he can explain the existence of a different type of witches to his father without putting a target on their backs.

Some witches have been targeted by hunters, ones who were trying to help but got caught in the crossfire, ones that had turned evil and needed to be stopped, but it’s not often he finds a witch that regards hunters with anything but fear. At least when his family are the ones sniffing around, he can give them a heads up, can tell them how to avoid their attention.

He’s had a lot of practice, after all.

~

Sam is sixteen when he’s a little too slow.

The innocent is safe and the demon is killed, but his chest is torn open and he’s bleeding out on the pavement.

“Oh no, oh no,” the woman he’d saved chants, pressing her hands against him, even though it’s pointless, even though it just sends a bolt of pain through him. Fuck. He doesn’t want to die. Dean is going to devastated. “Paige! Help me! Paige!”

There’s a bright light in the corner of his eyes and an woman around his dad’s age with bright hair red hair is leaning over him.

Then she touches him, but her touch doesn’t hurt.

He looks down and the wound on his chest closes, skin clear and unharmed, pain retreating to only a memory.

“He saved me,” the woman says. “He can move things!”

The redhead’s eyebrows rise. “You have active powers?”

They’re always so surprised by that. Sam’s more impressed with the fact that she just healed him. “I get premonitions too. What are you?”

“You get,” she starts then cuts herself off. “Where’s your whitelighter?”

He stares. “My what?”

She raises a hand to her head and groans. “Oh, someone’s really messed up somewhere. Leo!”

~

Guardian angels are real, called whitelighters, and apparently witches with active powers who go around saving innocents are supposed to have them to help keep them from getting themselves killed in the process.

Leo, who’s something called an elder with a kind face, says an unconventional witch deserves an unconventional whitelighter.

Chris Halliwell is his age, half witch, and also has telekinesis.

Oh, and he’s apparently his cousin. His very, very, very distant cousin.

“Are all witches related?” he asks incredulously.

“No,” Chris says, long dark hair and hazel eyes doing more to aid his claim of family than the spell his mother had cast. He and Chris look more related than him and Dean do. “We’d thought all the other branches of the Warren line had died out. You’re a surprise.”

Great. He’s a freak even among witches.

~

It’s so much easier now that he’s not desperately trying to piece together everything on his own, with only the occasional help from the innocents he saves. Chris is sarcastic and annoying and funny and more than having a guardian angel, Sam’s relieved to just have a friend he doesn’t have to lie to for once.

The Halliwell house, with its potion ingredients and powerful witches and home cooking, is only an orb away. He mostly hangs out with Chris, of course, but Piper always invites him to stay for dinner and Paige checks in on him, feeling somewhat responsible for him since she met him first, and Wyatt’s friendly enough but Chris sends him packing whenever Sam’s there.

He’s pulling doubletime when it comes to saving innocents, doing it as a witch and as a hunter, and he’s still maintaining straight As on top of it all while lying about half his life to his father and brother. It’s a stack of cards that’s bound to fall apart.

Going to Stanford is about more than just escaping his father.

It gets him close enough to San Francisco that he won’t need to be orbed to the Halliwells. It’s supposed to give him some breathing room, to let him focus on being a witch, to let him get his education. He does more good as a witch than as a hunter, but it’s not like that’s something he can explain to his family.

He’d wanted out, needed out, before he gets himself or someone else killed trying to balance it all. But he hadn’t thought his father would kick him out. He hadn’t thought Dean would let him.

He goes to the bus station but doesn’t buy a ticket. He calls Chris and spends the rest of the summer at Halliwell manor, burying all his hurt under training with Chris and saving people and getting ready to start college in September.

~

Jess wears a pentacle around her neck and keeps salt in small bowls in each of the cardinal directions and Sam doesn’t intend to tell her that he’s a witch, but when he ends up saving her from a darklighter attack, that decision is taken out of his hands. Coming clean about the hunter part takes longer, but it’s a bit of an easier sell once the knowledge of the supernatural is already out there. The thing that surprised her most of all is that things like bullets and steel can be used successfully against monsters, rather than the existence of monsters themselves.

Three years later when Dean shows up at their door, Sam can’t bring himself to deny him. It’s one weekend. He’d never wanted to lose his family in the first place.

When he returns home to Jessica pinned to the ceiling, he doesn’t even have to think.

He yanks her down, catching her in his arms just as fire effulges the place she’d been. He pushes the fire away from them, but it fights him harder than demonic fire usually does and leaves his hands burned and blistering. He doesn’t care. Jess is bleeding and in shock but still alive, breath rattling against him. “CHRIS!”

Dean’s yelling for him, but Sam can’t let him in. He throws his hand out, keeping his bedroom door closed even as his brother throws his body against it, still screaming his name.

Chris orbs in, eyes going huge. “Sam, what-”

“Heal her then go,” he snaps, the smoke already hurting his throat. “I’ll explain later.”

He puts his glowing hands over her bleeding stomach and the wound closes, her body going slack and her breathing easing even as her eyes roll back.

Sam tenses. “Is she-”

“Fine, let’s go, your hands,” Chris says, hands already glowing as he reaches for him.

“SAM!” Dean shouts, sounding like he’s about two seconds away from trying to shoot through the door.

“You can heal me later,” he says. “Thank you. Go.”

Chris shoots him a bitchy look that Paige says they share and then he orbs away. The fire’s covered almost the entire room now and Sam finally lets go of the door.

Dean stumbles in, pale, already reaching for him.

Sam stands and finds his knees buckling, gritting his teeth to keep himself upright. “Take her,” he says urgently, pressing Jess into his brother’s arms. “We have to go.”

“You think?” he snaps, but he’s gentle with Jess. Sam shoves him towards the door, slamming it behind him just as it surges after them. Keeping the flames from killing them is one of the hardest things he’s ever done. No wonder he’s exhausted.

They stumble downstairs, away from the fire, and someone’s already called the ambulance.

The story’s an easy sell because it’s not like anyone would believe the truth. They say Jess took sleeping pills and Sam came home to flames. He pulled Jess out and has the burns to prove it. Dean saw the flames in the window and went up, helping to get them both out.

It’s almost true.

“He had yellow eyes,” Jess tells him after. “He was – Sam, I’ve seen demons, I’ve fought demons. He’s something else.”

“Different kind of demons,” Sam says. There’s the underworld, and there’s hell. Underworld demons go after witches mostly. Hell demons go after mortals and are a lot harder to kill, ironically. “It’s the same demon that killed my mother, Jess, and now it’s after you. I have to take care of this.”

Dean’s too relieved about Sam’s determination to rejoin the hunt to question him too closely about all this. He knows better than to think that will last for very long.

Chris agrees to watch over Jess for him even though she’s not technically one of his charges. They layer protection spells on her, including one cast by the power of three, and even this yellow eyed demon will be hard pressed to break through that.

Hell demons are tricky. They’re not as susceptible to witch magic. But Sam’s not just a witch.

He’s a hunter too.

[goldenroutledge]

serendipity

pairing: daniel ricciardo x fem!reader

word count: 2.0k

prompt: ❛ i'm telling you all of a sudden, but it isn't new with me. i love you. ❜

summary: fluff. in which daniel doesn’t bother to hide his feelings anymore.

a/n: for the lovely @katsu28! thank you so much for requesting <3

masterlist || be my valentine blurb event 💌

“If you don’t mind me saying, you two make a beautiful couple!” An older woman stops in her tracks to do a double take of you and Daniel dressed to the nines, blending in with the rest of the wedding guests decorated in black tie. Maybe it was the way you brushed a few bread crumbs from his beard or the way he draped his arm around the back of your chair during the meal that made you two appear like any other couple in the room.

“Us?” You question, looking around just to be sure her comment is directed towards you. Then again, it wouldn’t be the first time someone made this mistake. “We’re not-”

“Why, thank you!” Daniel interrupts, giddy as ever as he raises his glass. “She is quite the beauty, isn’t she? Makes up for the two of us, I’d say.” Your heart flutters under his gaze, one that’s convincingly lovestruck. He gently squeezes your waist to drive it home, pulling you close.

“Oh, stop it. I don’t think anyone can look bad in Venice, must be something in the water.”

“Don’t sell yourself short, darling.” Daniel muses, turning his attention back to the woman as she smiles fondly. “So humble, this one.”

“You’ll have to excuse him, he’s still suffering from some whiplash and needs his eyes checked.”

“Please, my eyes have never deceived me when it comes to you. You’re stunning.” His tone is sincere, and if you didn’t know he was putting on a charade, you’d believe him. Still, your cheeks are growing undeniably warm, regardless if he actually means it or not. Daniel’s always been a flirt.

“Just trying to keep up with you.”

“Maybe you two will be next.” The woman wonders out loud, a playful glint in her eyes as she winks at Daniel, leaving the two of you to enjoy the reception. He doesn’t miss a beat, feeling no need to acknowledge what just happened.

You, however, can’t brush this one under the rug. “What was that about?”

“What was what about?” Daniel questions, playing clueless.

“Either I hit my head earlier or you just told that lady we’re a couple. You do realize you just lied to an old lady right?”

“I prefer the term method acting.” Daniel quips, all the more amused at your very unamused expression. “Come on, two great looking people together at a wedding? My jacket matches your dress? We’re not exactly avoiding the assumptions.”

“And that was purely coincidence, might I remind you.”

Daniel rolls his eyes playfully at your recollection of the morning. The look on your face when you first realized the matching colors was priceless. It won’t be the last stunt he pulls off, for now he’ll let you believe it really was a coincidence. “Oh please, you love it.”

You shrug, indifferent to what he’s insinuating. At least that’s what you hope he receives from it. Internally you wince every time you have to shut down his relentless positivity with another cold shoulder. “Your performance was convincing, I’ll give you that.”

“Just don’t wanna let anyone down. She’s not the first person to say something y’know, we might as well just accept our fate now.”

You avoid his eyes, finding the drink in your glass to be the safer of the two options. Whenever you do lock eyes with him, you can’t be held responsible for what you might say. Confronting the spark between you two has weighed on your mind, and heart, for more sleepless nights than you care to admit. Here and now, at your friend’s wedding, certainly isn’t the time to start.

–

The night stretches on and the mood is much lighter. Tears of joy for the happy couple have already been shed and the celebration was ongoing well into the night. Dinner was everything you expected it to be, each course more perfect than the last.

Daniel had been asked to give a toast in the upcoming weeks of the grand event. Not that he was the smoothest speaker to ever hold a microphone, but his humor was undeniably perfect for every crowd and setting.

He was rarely at a loss for words. For this speech in particular, when he tried to picture the moment and sit with his thoughts, he realized he had none. It may have been the first time he was truly out of his league. Ask him to write a speech about racing and the intensity that comes with it? No problem. Writing about love, in its truest and most passionate form? That poses a greater challenge.

Scribbled on the notecards tucked away in his suit jacket are a few quotes from philosophers or books he’s read, hoping one will inspire some profound words.

When the microphone finds him, Daniel takes one good look at you smiling back at him, and drops the cards on the table. A rush of confidence flows through his veins, telling him that he may not be so hopeless after all. He takes a deep breath and greets the room.

“I’ll be honest, when the bride and groom asked me to give a speech on their big day, my immediate response was ‘Are you sure’?” Light laughter falls over the crowd, putting him at ease.

“I’m no expert, but when I think about why we fall in love, the answer is simple. We fall in love when the idea of spending the rest of our days alone with someone feels more like paradise instead of a punishment; when we wake up and fall asleep to the thought of them, and happily let them run through our mind every hour in between.”

Everyone in the crowd lovingly gazes at their person. Daniel notices that your eyes have remained fixed on him this whole time. He feels himself blushing, and smiling at you before continuing.

“The way I see it, falling in love is this feeling of unwavering commitment, of being unwilling to give up on someone no matter how much they beg you to. It’s knowing that even if your love is never reciprocated, you’d still feel like the luckiest person on planet Earth, knowing they hold a place in your heart no one else ever could. Loving somebody, to me, means accepting that you couldn’t un-love them even if you tried.”

Daniel catches your eyes and they sparkle, whispering everything you wish to say back to him. A pause lingers over the crowd. You wonder if anyone else can hear your heart beating out of your chest. Under Daniel’s gaze, it feels as though you’re the only two left in the room.

He turns towards the bride and groom once again to end his remarks. “It’s for all those reasons that we’re here celebrating today. My deepest congratulations to the happy couple, may your love story never end.” Daniel raises his glass of champagne and everyone else follows suit, cheering loudly.

The bride and groom beam with joy, tears in their eyes as they resonated with every word he spoke. Everyone in the room had someone they thought about, someone they picture standing across from at the altar, hands held while they swear to keep their promises. The more Daniel went on, the more you realized that for you, it’s him. By the way he was looking at you, you have a pretty good idea that he was thinking of you, too.

Daniel shares an embrace with the bride and groom as they thank him for his heartfelt words. If they only knew the speech didn’t come from those notecards left discarded on the table. Daniel’s speech came straight from the heart, purely inspired by the burgeoning love he feels for you. Other guests sing his praises as he walks past their tables as he makes his way back to you. Romantic notes of the piano pick up from where they left off, and the floor opens up for guests to dance their night away. It gives him the perfect segway, unsure of how you’ll. If you react at all, that is.

“Congratulations, Plato. That was a pretty great speech.”

“I felt inspired,” He charms, extending his hand for you to take. “May I have this dance?”

Your lips curl into a smile, letting him lead you to the dance floor. “Do you even have to ask?”

Daniel shakes his head. “You’re doing that thing again.”

“What thing?”

“Deflecting by speaking in sarcasm and responding with rhetorical questions.” Something that admittedly drives him crazy, for better and for worse. “Why do you do that?”

“Why do you wanna know?” He gives you a pointed look, silently telling him that you’ve just proved his point. “Oh. I don’t know, maybe it’s easier for me that way. To imply how I feel because I can’t say it.”

The music is soft and the way Daniel holds your body to his… it's intimate. Like you could bare your deepest secrets to Daniel and leave it here in the ballroom once the song’s over. Insecurities only seek to discourage, they’re little reminders that this music isn’t for you. This night of romance doesn’t belong to you and Daniel, two friends that have blurred the lines so many times that they now cease to exist.

The last thing Daniel wants to do is rush you or scare you off. It’s a shame that he doesn’t think more before he speaks. “Do you ever get tired of keeping it in? Not saying what’s really on your mind?”

“Not always. I’d say it’s better to keep people guessing, never let them know my next move. I’m sure you know what that’s like.”

“Am I just ‘people’?” He questions. His tone is soft and smooth, not accusatory in the slightest. It’s what makes Daniel so easy to talk to, even when it hurts. You never have to hide from him, he’s always waiting for you with open arms.

“No, you’re not just ‘people’, but I don’t want to get your hopes up.”

“Are we talking about me or you? Because I’m pretty sure this entire party knows that I’m madly in love with you. I think you might be the last one to realize.”

You freeze, and instinctively feel like taking a step away. “We’re at a wedding, Daniel. Love is in the air. You’d kinda have to be a psychopath to not let your heart soften when you’re around all of this.”

“Has yours softened? Is that what I saw in your eyes when I gave my speech?”

“I guess I’m just surprised to hear you talk all romantic like that. If there weren’t about a hundred witnesses here I wouldn’t believe it.” You giggle and he smiles at your joke, knowing that you’re absolutely right. This wasn’t exactly an everyday occurrence for him.

“Well, believe it. I’m telling you all of a sudden, but it isn’t new with me. I love you.” Daniel pauses, gauging your reaction. “You don’t have to say it back. I’m still the luckiest man in the world, remember?”

They say actions speak louder than words, and the way you kiss him says more than you can express in this moment. It’s not the first kiss you’ve shared, and Daniel is relieved in knowing that it won’t be the last. He kisses you back, and this time it means something. It’s a chance at having more than you ever thought possible. Less of keeping your love locked away and more accepting what’s been here all along.

“It’s not new with me either. I love you too, Daniel.”

“If I knew that was coming, I would’ve said it sooner.”

“Don’t be smug.”

“I’m not, just happy.” Daniel shows off that signature smile, one that won’t be erased anytime soon. The maid of honor interrupts your moment, asking for all of the men to clear the floor. “Now go, it looks like you have a bouquet to catch.”

Your eyebrows raise in surprise at his boldness. Then again, the Daniel you love has never been one to back down from being unabashedly himself. “You mean you want me to catch it? You know that means we’re next right, are you sure you can handle that?”

Daniel lets his fingers trail down your arm as he backs away, bowing slightly and planting an affectionate kiss on your hand. He’ll be gone before you can scold him any further for what he’s about to say.

“With any luck, we will be.”

💌: i miss danny so much 🥲 feel free to request more from my blurb event here! comments and reblogs are always appreciated :)

taglist: @marjorieswrld

[borkunlimited]

Take Your Time, Miss Deer (Sylus x Reader) - Ch. 3

In a tailor shop tucked in the calmer side of the N109 zone is a little room where all clothes of many different designs come together under the delicate hands of an unassuming deer living in the den of all sorts of beasts and sitting on them is the dragon who wears your clothes.

Your many interactions with Skye, Mr. Sylus’ messenger or-

-Sylus is waiting for you to finally figure out he is playing his own messenger.

A Deer Hybrid! Reader x Dragon Hybrid! Sylus Fic

Tags: Sylus x Reader, Hybrid AU, Suggestive Themes, Fluff, Predator/Prey

AO3

Ch. 1 / Ch. 2 / Ch. 3 / Ch. 4

3: My Dearest, Playful

Perhaps it started with the little notes.

When Sylus gradually shifted from his previous tailor to you, it was supposed to be a simple business transaction. A seamless transition as you become his lead tailor. A trade where he will pay and he will receive the clothes in return.

Your father was very confident with your skills and one look at the samples your father has laid out in front of him is enough for Sylus to know you have unparalleled talent when it comes to design and sewing.

He didn’t question what you and your father are doing here in the N109 zone even if your kind should not be here at all. There is already a fair share of artisans and any brilliant minds for that matter like you who chose to settle here for various reasons. 

Debt. 

Crime. 

Humans.

The list goes long.

When his first request from you arrived, he was more than pleased. Inside the dark cardboard box laced with red tissue paper was the business attire he had commissioned from you. From the embroidery, the fabric, and the measurements, you were able to capture everything just as he imagined it.

But what tops everything is the little note at the bottom of the box. 

“Thank you, Mr. Sylus.”

Neat handwriting. A simple thanks signed with your first name and a cute drawing of a smiling deer.

He didn’t write a response to that message and instead sent a bouquet of roses after that. Afterall, he knows when to acknowledge effort when he sees it.

Then it became a game. At least for him. A back and forth.

Every time you send over a box, he will always find these little notes at the bottom, always a note of gratitude.

“Thank you for the flowers, Mr. Sylus.”

“The hairpin is very lovely.”

“Father and I had a wonderful night.”

Oh, he remembered that night quite well. It was the night where he finally laid eyes on his shy and elusive tailor that he only saw before through the optics of Mephisto.

So many well-dressed people that evening. The opera has a good ensemble of music and a capable orchestra but his gaze was only trained at you the entire time.

Who would have known?

You are much lovelier in person. Even if you are a good distance away from him. 

Now, he gets to appreciate that beauty up close.

“Skye, what brings you here?”, you asked him, tilting your head slightly at him. You had your hair up and Sylus’ gaze lingered on your neck and in the skin not covered by the collar of your blouse, beads of sweat trickling down.

As usual, Mephisto is here (Again) and currently perched at your antlers while you carry boxes of clothes for delivery from your studio to the receiving area. The bird really does love your company so much.

“Just wanted to check on my boss’ favorite tailor,” Sylus replied, a hint of amusement in his voice towards the fact it is becoming too easy to switch on this new persona around you as time passed by. “Where’s your father, sweetie?”

Of course, Sylus knows the answer to that already even before he stepped inside your shop, fully aware that your father had left you by your lonesome today to go to the nearby hospital for his check-up.

Sure, he always had Luke and Kieran watch over you despite being fully aware none of your clients will do anything stupid when inside your shop but he isn’t going to take his chances today.

Besides, this is the perfect chance to spend time with you without having to deal with your father’s subtle fearful gaze.

The fear is understandable, he supposed. A deer and a dragon together in one room? That usually spells disaster if you and him are outside the N109 zone.

A disaster that usually ends in the front page of the newspaper.

“Oh, he went to the hospital for a check-up, Skye,” you smiled at him and you were about to pick up another box when he beat you to it, his hands gently covering yours and then carrying it himself.

“You don’t have to-”

“Let me, sweetheart.”

“Mr. Sylus might think I am turning you into my errand boy.”

“Don’t worry, darling, consider it as me being a gentleman,” he answered, his tail wrapping around your waist while you walked back with him to the receiving area.

He would do anything you ask without complaint. 

Lovesick. Utterly smitten. He should have talked to you long ago, to relish being accepted by you who worries over his being than over the possibility of being mauled to death by him.

His response is rewarded with a smile from you. They aren’t as bad as your fellow hybrids and even humans claim they are. 

Dragon hybrids. 

Wolf hybrids. 

Or any hybrids that take into the traits of any carnivore. 

If anything, Skye, the twins, and the other residents here in the N109 zone have been very accommodating to you so far despite your differences. Perhaps it is possible, all of you hybrids living in solidarity.

“How can I make it up to you, Skye?”, you asked, watching him set down the box with the others. Simon, the canine hybrid delivery boy, should be here any minute now to pick them up and bring them to your clients.

“Is a kiss too much to ask?”

Sylus meant it as a joke, to tease you, just so he can see your adorable blush but a part of him secretly hopes you will give it to him just like how you give it freely to Mephisto and the twins.

You tilt your head at him, as if surprised with his request that was immediately replaced with a soft smile.

What are you doing?

He looked down at you, slightly confused (and perhaps, amused) when he saw you cock your head slightly upwards with your eyes closed.

You are waiting for him to do something.

Is this what he thinks it is?

“And what is this for, sweetie?”, he asked, his breath hitching upon realizing your position.

You are going to let him take a kiss.

You tapped on your forehead, “Here. This spot.”

It was good you specified where at least but even if you don’t, he has half a mind that there are things he shouldn’t take without your permission.

These are one of the rare occasions where Sylus’ self-control slips for a fraction and he has to remind himself he is supposed to be playing the role of ‘Skye’. One of Mr. Sylus’ henchmen as you said. 

He studied your face briefly, looking for any signs of doubt but there is none. Are you teasing him back? No, it doesn’t look like it. 

You are actually letting him do it.

He inhaled sharply and his tail wrapped around you tightened briefly before leaning closer then gently placing a kiss on your forehead, a content and quiet sigh escaping his lips as he waited for your reaction.

He wants to do it again. To shower you with such gestures.

“I hope that is enough to make it up for helping me here today, Skye,” you said, a satisfied expression on your face.

How sweet can you get, Miss Deer? Giving these freely when asked nicely.

“Consider it paid in full, sweetie,” Sylus chuckled softly. You are so unpredictable sometimes that he made a mental note that he should be more clear next time.

But it isn’t so bad.

The sharp ringing of the telephone cut through the quietness of the receiving area and Sylus watched you walk towards it to pick it up, his tail letting go of you.

He listened idly to your quiet conversation to the other person on the line and his attention went from the small smile on your face then downwards, his gaze shifting on your tail swaying side to side.

Cute, fluffy, well-groomed and-

-oh-so-inviting.

How would it feel against his fingertips or perhaps, tangled against his own?

“I understand,” you nodded, a worried look on your face, “Get well soon, Simon.”

You put down the phone and looked at the boxes for delivery. Should you return them back to your studio and ask your clients to pick it up? But then again, they requested it for delivery and you sighed heavily.

It isn’t the delivery boy’s fault if he caught the flu. It was a miracle he even managed to call you based on the state of his voice.

“It looks like I had to the delivery today, Skye,” you told him, walking towards the entrance of the shop to flip the sign from ‘Open’ to ‘Closed’.

“I am coming with you, sweetie.”

“But how?”

“With my car, miss seamstress.”

“Mr. Sylus wouldn’t mind? He might be looking for you now,” you replied, slightly worried. He already helped you around moving the boxes and now he is driving you around as well?

Oh, who do you think I am?

“He can afford a few hours without me,” he answered dismissively, already picking up boxes to load on his car. There is no way he will let you walk and use the public transportation especially not in the N109 zone.

“It looks like I owe you again, Skye,” you smiled at him, following him to his car with your clipboard.

This is clearly an expensive car.

He said it was his car, right? You are sure you didn’t misheard. Does Mr. Sylus pays his people well? Maybe the rumors were actually true when it comes to his wealth or maybe it is hazard pay? There is word that Mr. Sylus and his people deal with hybrids and humans alike on their line of work.

“Consider it as my gratitude for your little reward earlier, sweetheart.”

Your subtle surprised reaction did not escape his notice and he had to stifle his chuckle on your reaction, his tail flicking in amusement as he opened the car door for you, his hand on the small of your back.

He should take you to joyrides every now and then.

In fact, now that he thinks about it, that isn’t enough at all in his dictionary when it comes to spoiling you.

────────────────────

All of his business associates were stunned.

It was no secret at this point that Sylus is visiting you frequently and becoming more watchful over you. They know this because when a shootout happened right in  front of your shop, Sylus was immediately there, royally pissed at the perpetrators and a new rule was added that there should be no violence at all within the 500 meters of your shop.

Did everyone get the message? Oh, they certainly did especially when the warehouses of the perpetrators were conveniently burned down the morning after.

The message is very loud and clear.

They all agreed you and him make an unlikely pair. It wasn’t uncommon between hybrids of different species to find attraction towards each other but in your case? They actually all prayed (Which is the most unusual) that their beloved tailor will be safe.

Surely, Sylus has enough self-restraint to not mistake you for prey, right? That he isn’t a wild animal wearing well-tailored clothes to mingle among the turbulent crowd of hybrids and humans.

There was a certain expectation that his demeanor will be softened at least slightly when he is around you yet seeing you together for the first time? By goodness, he looked more terrifying even when you were standing beside him, greeting them all cheerfully and explaining why you are doing the delivery today.

You frowned upon seeing your client shake. This is the third time your clients looked at you as if they wanted to be anywhere but here and you know precisely why.

You didn’t expect Skye to be that scary to other people but he actually is. Does that come with working with Mr. Sylus? Luke and Kieran do not look menacing at all but they did mention they do the dirty work so that only means Skye is most likely sent to do the same as well.

Maybe their images change depending on the situation.

“Oh, please don’t be scared,” you tried your best to assure your client who is clearly trembling in the appearance of your companion, “Skye’s not on duty today. He is just tagging along.”

Sylus just smirked at the man in front of you who was looking at him in sheer terror. He badly wanted to laugh but chose not to, not wanting to break his facade.

It is not often you find the leader of Onychinus himself standing on your doorstep especially when you just woke up and in your pajamas.

Skye?

Why are you calling Sylus using a different name? Or maybe that is a nickname? The word going about is he is pursuing you but are you two that far in your relationship already?

Your client, an older lion hybrid, kept his eyes at you, not daring to look at Sylus.

“Yes, my apologies,” your client nodded slowly and he is careful not to even brush his hands against yours as you handed him the box of suit you tailored for him, “Not so often you see, um-, Sy-”

He froze when Sylus glared at him, a silent warning, daring him to finish that sentence, his tail flicking in subtle annoyance.

The older lion is even more confused but chose not to prod further. Work with Sylus long enough and you will see signs when he doesn’t want to continue the conversation any further. To leave the subject as it is, choose a new topic, and hope that would placate him.

You caught the silent exchange between them and it even made you slightly frustrated that Skye is unintentionally being scary. You do believe it isn’t his fault since he did not get to choose what kind of hybrid he would be when he was born.

“Skye, stop scaring him,” you gently chided him and the lion hybrid watched in surprise at how fast Sylus switched his expression, holding a subtle fondness when he gazed at you.

“I’m not scary, sweetie.”

“You’re not to me but to them, I think you are.”

“Oh, am I?”

“You were just glaring at him awhile ago,” you pointed out, and even then, your scolding is quite gentle, as if reprimanding a child who is bullying someone younger than him.

Perhaps you need to work with him on making sure he doesn’t scare people during his off time.

“I am really sorry, sir,”, you bowed politely to the still stunned lion hybrid, “We need to get going but please be assured we are going to work on his customer service.”

Your client just nodded slowly, mumbling a small thanks, watching as you and Sylus walked back towards the car, the dragon hybrid’s tail wrapped loosely around your waist and even then, he could still pick up the dragon hybrid teasing you.

“Are you going to teach me how to behave, sweetie?”

“If you don’t mind, Skye.”

.

.

.

What on earth just happened?

────────────────────

It was certainly exhausting delivering all of those boxes.

Sylus watched you in amusement, taking a sip of his coffee while you rested your head on your arms on the table. He mostly let you do the talking even when you attempted to let him take the lead so he could work on his ‘customer service’ only for him to fail. (Mostly because the moment your clients opened the door they almost had a heart attack so you had to take over.)

“Maybe we need to work on your smile,” you mumbled, your groan of frustration sounding louder because of how quiet the cafe was.

“And how do you suggest we work on that, miss seamstress?”, he asked, his hand resting on his chin as you looked at him, studying his face.

Up close, Skye actually looks quite.. good looking, a faint blush tinting your cheeks at the thought and you shook your head.

You find these feelings very confusing. On one hand you have Mr. Sylus, still shrouded in mystery as ever but now you confirmed he is almost the same age as you and now every time he asks Skye to deliver his gifts, your crush slight admiration for him grows despite being aware you don’t even know him but you appreciate his shy attempts on making a connection with you.

Yet, you don’t even know what he looks like. What kind of hybrid is he even?

Then, you have Skye, a recent character, who keeps you company even when he just had to drop off the gift and go. Every time he hands you Mr. Sylus’ presents, you often see that it is from him instead.

It is all frustrating but you have to come into terms that dragon hybrids should be with their kind and the same goes to you and Mr. Sylus.

“Let me think,” you said, your brows slightly furrowed.

Back to the topic. The plan. Maybe his fangs slightly poking out might be the problem and smirking seemed to be his default expression.

“Take your time, sweetie, I’m in no rush,” he replied, his gaze more fixed at your little pout and he raised his brow when you switched seats, sitting beside him. “What’s this?”

“I am fixing your smile.”

Oh, this is good. 

Very good. 

He relished the warmth of your hands on his face while you try to correct his smirk, making his fangs slightly hidden. A very surprising turn of events but a favorable one. Who knows accompanying you for delivery would lead to your delicate hands touching him like this.

It didn’t help how close you are, the scent of cotton and wildflowers at full force.

Little deer forgets she is in the company of a predator it seems.

How amusing how you never cower even when the rest of the beasts you have met with him did.

“Is this your way of fixing my smile then?”, he asked, his voice slightly muffled and he noticed the slight tremble on your touch.

Perhaps the deer instincts are still there.

“I just want to see if I can.”

You nodded but there was a subtle hint of fear in your gaze when you noticed how sharp those canines are up close before it was immediately replaced by the determination you have earlier.

Sure, Skye and you are polar opposites when it comes to species but no, he wouldn’t jump on you-

-He wouldn’t jump on you and eat you.

“You’re trembling, miss seamstress” he said quietly, holding one of your wrists.

“I am just hungry,” you immediately replied, your other hand resting on your lap.

Your ears drooped slightly, guilty and ashamed for letting your natural instincts dictate your reactions. No one has harmed you so far in this place. It isn’t fair for you to look at him in fear when Skye has been kind to you. Who had every chance to pounce on you while both of you are alone on your studio but did not.

Sylus knows it is an excuse but chose to let it slide, letting go of your wrist. He doesn’t want to ruin this little impromptu date (It is a date, you just don’t know.)

“Our orders should be here any minute now, sweetheart,” he replied.

He didn’t push any further but his tail wrapped around you gently and he hoped despite you being so naive, so oblivious, you will take this as a sign that he is grateful.

Grateful that you didn’t stand up and flee.

Your tail wagged slightly when you saw your strawberry shortcake set in front of you together with his lemon tart.

“This looks very delicious,” you said, studying the treat in front of you.

“You’re more excited at the cake than finishing the delivery earlier, Miss Deer” he commented, poking your cheek.

Of course you are, especially when the strawberries on top look very fresh partnered with a pink macaron.

“The macaron looked so cute.”

“It does, but not as cute as you, darling deer.”

“Liar.”

What was it exactly? 

Your playful tease? 

The sense of foreboding that he is indeed a liar, that he is lying to you about his identity? 

Or maybe it was the white cream on your fingers?  Or perhaps the tip of your tongue darting slightly on your bottom lip to clean the crumbs of the pink pastry? 

Or was it because he wanted to be the one to lick that little mess himself?

No, it is what comes after.

It is what comes after that would bother him for the next few days and bear that irrational anger that comes with pining over the deer gazing back at him from her hidden grove, waiting for him to reveal himself from the darkness of the woods that surround your little paradise.

It is what comes after that when he can hear his heartbeats against his chest, his breath hitching, his eyes widening, and his lips parting slightly.

It was when-

It was when you made that sound with your oh-so-inviting lips.

Pop.

“Oh, it is as tasty as it looks!”, you exclaimed.

The trance breaks.

He blinked, immediately taking a deep breath to collect himself.

“Let me have a taste,” he said playfully, slightly strained while he try to calm the beating of his heart.

“Can you let me try yours as well, Skye?”, you asked.

Maybe he bit more than he can chew for today but he himself won’t admit that.

────────────────────

Sylus wouldn't deny how far his imagination goes when it comes to you.

They are usually domestic most of the time, little wishes of resting his chin on your shoulder while watching you work but there are cases it goes beyond that.

It was natural, he supposed, especially when he is already a lovestruck fool at this point. 

A lovestruck fool for you, at least.

But they were proof to him. 

That this attraction is not because he wants to devour you like those lunatics who lost their minds on the haze on being unable to discern the difference between love and obsession.

His affections for you are real. His intentions are without a doubt, pure.

He acted as if he never saw the rest of his business associates earlier that day and no one dared to bring up why he is accompanying you on a delivery run.

Despite that, things do not go smoothly.

Not because people are being stubborn, no, they are very cooperative for once.

It was because every now and then, he remembers that sound. 

That sound you made earlier.

Pop.

It was enough to distract him every now and then. How his hold on the firearm faltered just slightly when he was inspecting it, how his grip on the cards during the poker game tightened and he is glad that his schedule isn't tight tonight because he would like to have some time for himself, to clear his head.

"What are we going to do if there are any incoming calls for you, boss?", Luke asked.

“Just say I am busy for tonight,” he sighed then added.

“And no interruptions unless it’s urgent.”

Luke and Kieran looked at each other, perplexed. Usually, the boss would be in his best mood after visiting you but he looked grumpy tonight.

Did you guys fight? No way. They had spent enough time with you to know you don’t get ticked off so easily.

“Is Miss Deer okay?”, Kieran asked quietly.

“She’s fine,” he answered and gave them a dismissive wave.

The two just nodded, making a mental note to swing by tomorrow to check on you as well or maybe tonight. What if you are crying because the boss said something? Oh, they really hope you aren’t.

Perhaps they should bring along a box of sweets just in case and tell you it was from the boss.

Because if they need to be a mediator between you and the boss, then so be it.

The twins closed the door behind them and Sylus ran a hand through his hair, deep in thought and it did not help that his pants are tighter than usual.

Terribly unfair how he had to deal with this while you are back at your shop, most likely hard at work even during the evenings.

Perhaps a long and cold shower should help him and for good measure, he will down a bottle of whisky too because for once, he hopes that you will not appear in his dreams tonight, fully aware what kind of dream it will be.

Oh, how wrong he was.

[beardedjoel]

💗🎉💗CONGRATULATIONS ON YOUR MILESTONE!💗🎉💗

I’m so happy for you! I found you through Closer, and I couldn’t be happier about it. You’re an amazing writer and such a lovely person!

I’m wondering… what about one of these?🌹the prompt number 1. I love your writing and I cannot stop myself from asking. Perhaps with Joel, or Frankie, or Pero…I’m not picky, I’ll be happy with whatever the inspiration leads you.

Alsooooo… Is it too much if I add a little bit of 💌? I’m curious about your writing process. How do you do it? Is it linear, or do you jump around, and later “paste it”?

wym, you're so sweet and i love sharing this space with you my friend 😘 thank you for sending in this prompt and allowing me to do something special with it. thanks for your patience as i have been painstakingly slow with making my way through this backlog of requests! i'll answer your thoughtful writing question at the very bottom of the post after the one shot, if that's alright!

axel and ember — joel x f!reader

request: "overwhelmed, but happy crying during sex". sent in as part of my 5k celebration! i decided to use this one for something very personal to me. as someone who has dealt with vaginismus, this was challenging to write the last few days but it felt like the right direction for me to go in with this prompt. in no way does this describe the experience every person with vaginismus has (nor 100% true to mine), and it is a lot of hard work to help your body and mind learn to work with the sexual obstacles that come with it. i simplified things for the purpose of this story but still found it really gratifying to write so much from personal experience and feelings that i have dealt with. i highly encourage anyone who has not heard of vaginismus to do a little research as it's something that many, many women deal with in silence or is ignored as much of women's sexual health is. happy reading 💓

wc: 2.9k

warnings: 18+ MDNI, reader has vaginismus, unprotected piv

“Maybe… maybe it just doesn’t fit.”

You’d said the words, exasperated after trying for the third time that week.

“I don’t think that’s how that works, darlin’,” Joel teases the words playfully, his hair hanging down into his face as he holds himself perched above you. His smile brusquely fades when he sees that you’re genuinely upset. Some days, it hadn’t been that big of a deal, you’d been able to shrug off the frustration. Today, however, you felt frayed and emotional, pissed off that your body couldn’t just behave like a normal body should. It’s infuriating, living in a body that won’t cooperate with your mind, seeing others do with ease what you never could. What you could only have as a fantasy. 

“Hey, it’s alright.” He leans down, kissing you softly before moving from where he’d been stationed on top of you to lay at your side.

Another dream of finally having sex with your boyfriend tonight slipped away in an instant. 

“What if I try the dilators again?” you ask desperately, meeting Joel’s gaze. His warm eyes look back at yours with empathy, and he shrugs.

“If y’want. But maybe you should jus’ rest. We already had our fun, yeah?”

He’d gotten you off, you’d gotten him off. Fingers and tongues and mouths, which admittedly were great, but you craved to know what more of him felt like, more than just the one, sometimes two fingers you could handle without soon wincing in discomfort.

You wanted him inside of you, wanted your bodies joined in the way that you were so cruelly being denied by the universe.

“N-no, you’re right. It was fun.” You flash him a somewhat forced smile, grateful for his patience and love when he wraps his arms around you. Joel had been such a constant with you, so wonderful, and that only made it hurt more that you couldn’t give him this. He’d never pressured you, never made you feel at fault these last five months you’d been dating. In some ways, it had brought you closer, not being able to rush into sex, but it didn’t mean that he’d stick around forever if it meant he couldn’t get the one thing you know men always want.

“We’re gonna get it one of these days,” he reassures you, stroking your hair. “You’re workin’ hard at your sessions and here at home. Don’t tell you enough that I think it’s great, seein’ you tryin’ all of that. But don’t do it for me, okay? Do it ‘cause it’s what you want.”

You stare at him for a moment, dumbfounded. You were of course doing all of this work for yourself, so that you could freely enjoy something that should come so naturally to your body. Yet you knew that deep down the pressure was mounting, wanting to give Joel the sexual satisfaction you assumed he craved, something that your hands and mouth couldn’t give him. It was putting up a block between you and your sexuality, making each interaction that much more strained and distressing. You’re surprised Joel caught on to all of that when you’d been trying to put on a brave face for him. 

“I - I know,” you concede with a sigh. “I’m afraid sometimes. That I’ll never be enough without this piece of me.”

Joel’s deep set brow furrows further, looking hurt - for you or for himself, you can’t quite tell. His lips set into a firm line before they part, readying to speak. “I think you’re pretty damn amazing the way that y’are. I want that for us, ‘course I do. But I’d rather jus’ have you, whatever, however you are.”

“You would?” you ask sentimentally, your eyes stinging with unshed tears. You laugh slightly, wiping under your eyes, knowing your question is ridiculous but still needing that extra validation that he’s sure. That he’s okay continuing to try this with you, even if it never results in anything. 

“Yes, silly. Why do you think I’ve kept you around all this time?” 

“‘Cause I find us all the good TV shows to watch?”

He laughs, his burly chest shaking with it. “Quit bein’ a pest, I’m tryin’ to be serious with you,” he quips back, trying and failing to hold back his chuckle.

“I know. I know what you’re saying, Joel. I -“ You swallow, your face falling, pulled back into the seriousness of the moment. “I appreciate you. So, so much.” You reach and wrap your arms tightly around him. You relish in the feeling of being close to him, your naked bodies melding together, the heater-like quality of Joel always comforting to you. 

“You’re all the good in this relationship, baby.”

“Who’s being a pest now?” You flick his chest, sending the both of you into a fit of laughter again, giddy at the late hour and the tax of this evening leaving you emotionally spent.

The voice deep inside your mind taunts you as you slowly listen to Joel falling asleep next to you, his breath falling to a rhythmic pattern interlaced with tiny, endearing snores. You hold back tears that come in the dark, feeling so small and alone in this moment, knowing that despite his reassurances, he could never truly understand how this feels for you.

The next few weeks go by with much of the same - you’re busy with life, work, friends, and going to your physical therapy sessions. It was awkward at first all those months ago, laying there bare underneath the sheet while a woman practically had half her hand inside of you, but you got used to it, even started to look forward to hearing about her life and her kids. 

You and Joel try a few more times to no avail, your body once seeming to have a breakthrough before promptly making you inhale sharply in pain, shaking your head dejectedly. 

You try to let it go, let all of it go. Learn that life doesn’t surround this, it simply can’t if you don’t want this pressure, this hole in your heart that you think you need to fill, to eat you alive. This cannot mean that you’re broken, that nobody could want to be with someone born with their factory settings just a little bit off. 

You see it on Joel’s face and in his demeanor, proudly taking note of the change within you. You start to pounce on him every chance you get, fueled by trying to feed this new, insatiable mental freedom you’ve allowed yourself. If you couldn’t have the sex you were dreaming of just yet, you figured that in the meantime you may as well make the sex you are having something new to dream about.

Joel, as predicted, is highly receptive to your new outlook, hands and lips all over you more often than not the second you step through his door to spend the night with him. You find yourself laughing with him when you’re being intimate instead of focusing on that pit in your stomach that worries if this time could finally be the time. You’ve done away with taking it far too seriously to even enjoy when your gracious boyfriend is buried between your legs like it’s his favorite thing. Now, you can appreciate all of it for what it is - a way to connect with Joel, to share something special and fun and sexy together.

You lie in bed with Joel this evening, cackling as you two take turns narrating excerpts from a friend’s most recent read in the romance department that she’d lent you. For inspiration, she’d teased, saying it might help your mind and body become more open to connecting with one another on the topic of sex. You’d taken it with a grain of salt but now it was the evening's top entertainment. You had to admit that she had a point - it did feel nice to read about characters that were so sexually open that anything seemed possible for them.

“The people in these books are unreal,” you manage to get out through your laughter, wiping the stream of tears that coats your cheeks. Joel wipes at the corners of his own eyes, still chuckling.

“Wouldn’t mind givin’ some of these a try one of these days, bet you’d be sexy flipped upside down or whatever the hell they were doin’,” Joel says, propped up on his elbow, his handsome eyes smoldering in your direction. The implication that many of the acts the fictional couple are doing involves things that your body hasn’t been cooperating enough to even go near makes you stiffen for a moment. Maybe a month ago, the comment would have wrecked you, sent you spiraling or feeling self conscious about this perceived insufficiency of yours, but now you let it slide right off your back.

You scrunch your nose at him, letting it fall into a sly smile as he flicks his eyes over you in appreciation. “Shush,” you tease. “We need to find out what happens next to… whatever their names are.” This had all been in good fun, and their names seemed secondary to the juicy details of their sex lives. 

“Axel and Ember.” Joel cuts in, like it’s the most obvious thing in the world.

You deadpan. “Right… Someone has been paying attention.”

“Go on, then…” Joel insists with sass, his hand motioning expectantly to the open book in your lap. You smirk before focusing on the page and continuing where you left off. You two read until both of your eyelids get heavy, the words muttered slower and slower, your bodies buzzing hotly with arousal from the content yet far too tired to do anything to make a move on the other person. 

“Tomorrow,” Joel utters in your ear just as you’re moving into that cozy, floaty, drifting sensation before it all goes black. “Tomorrow I’m gonna Axel your ass into oblivion.”

You’re awoken by a kiss, feather light upon your lips. Your lids flutter open to see Joel, his scruffy beard and unbearably cute bed head up close and personal with you. It’s barely light out, the room bathed in the pale blue glow that comes right before dawn. Your skimpy camisole strap has slid off your shoulder, the entire thing askew and leaving one of your tits bared to him. Joel’s eyes seem to be glued there before flicking back and forth between your now perky nipple and your face. His lips close around it, gently sucking, and you writhe, your body turning towards his.

“You’re so fuckin’ sexy,” he mutters against your hot skin, breath ghosting over your sensitive nipple. You shudder, your skin prickling with anticipation, the space between your thighs desperately empty. Going to bed so unsatisfied seemed to have done a number on the both of you as you’re now acutely aware Joel pressing up against you, his cock already hard and leaking.

“Joel…” you whine, hips bucking towards him.

He dives in, his lips devouring yours, shifting his body to straddle yours, grasping the sides of your face in his hands. His tongue laps into your mouth and you arch your back into the way his hips start to grind into yours, burning desire low in your belly. You’re already so damn wet from his teasing, more than you’ve ever been, built up longing spilling over from last night.

“I… want to try right now,” you finally manage to gasp out as his lips separate from yours for a brief second. He pauses, looking down at you, his heavy lidded eyes sincere as they dance over your features.

“You sure? It’s okay if we jus’ -”

“No. I’m sure,” you tell him. “I feel so good. I want to feel good with you.” Your fingers dig into his bare back, urging him on.

He only nods, his throat bobbing as he swallows. He places gentler kisses on your lips before moving to your neck, then down your body until he reaches the waistband of your sleep shorts. Tugging those down along with your panties, he moves with certainty and care, adoring your soft skin in every place along the way. 

He touches a gentle finger to your slit, so sensitive and swollen now, and you suck in a breath.

“Holy shit. God damn, baby,” he muses with awe, fire burning in his dark eyes.

You chuckle shakily, feeling your cheeks flush as you avert your eyes shyly. “I - I know. I need you.”

“Can practically feel her puslin’,” he growls, licking his lips, desire clouding his mind.

Your cheeks only grow hotter at his dirty words, pulling your lip between your teeth. “Taking a page from Axel’s book, I see,” you tease him breathily.

“Nah. This is all Joel Miller, baby,” he replies just as he uses his whole hand to cup your slick cunt, the both of you groaning quietly. Joel starts to shimmy his briefs down, leaving him completely stripped underneath the covers with you. You wait for him to climb back on top of you, carefully removing your top and taking you in.

“Perfect.” He smiles, and you wrap your legs around his waist, a silent signal that you’re ready. Joel reaches between your bodies, bringing his cock to your cunt, lazily moving it through the folds until he’s coated in your arousal, each stroke making your hips buck, your need climbing to an unbearable level.

“Please…” you whine, feeling the emptiness inside of you, craving that full sensation you’ve been romanticizing time and time again in your mind.

“I got you, baby. No matter what. I’m right here, ‘kay?” You feel him line himself up, trying to manage your expectations as you nod for him, swallowing down your nerves. Even if it doesn’t work this time, it’ll be okay, you’ll be oka -

The tip of his cock pushes past your entrance, and you gasp, eyes going wide. You both pause, staring at each other in an optimistic, full silence, breathing heavily.

You nod again, mouth agape. “More…” you whisper softly, taking a deep breath, trying to relax your body.

Joel smiles, pressing his hips into you the tiniest bit more. He still slides in with ease, the smallest pinch subsiding when he takes a beat, then pushes a little more, repeating the process a few times. You feel the stretch, the slight burn as your body adjusts, your mind racing at the miracle that’s occurring, barely even able to register it right now.

“Oh my god,” you mutter, starting to shake. Joel leans down to kiss you, a comforting move, but it only pushes his cock in another bit, making you gasp softly at the fullness.

To your shock, when he pulls back the sensation begins to near something pleasurable. “Sorry,” he quickly spits out, his concerned stare meeting yours.

“No. It’s good. A-again. Do that again.” You start to smile in earnest, a toothy grin that you can’t help but feel spread across your face. 

“What… this?” he asks coyly, more overt with the thrust inwards as he pulls his lips into yours. He buries his face in your neck, breathing you in and kissing the sensitive skin there. “You’re so wet, so fuckin’ tight, baby. You feel incredible.”

You shudder underneath him, moaning softly as his words travel right to your core, burning with a new kind of eagerness you’ve never felt before. “You feel so good,” you echo back to him as you pant.

Joel starts to move, testing the waters with slow, steady movements. You keep breathing, terrified that any minute the ball will drop or this will have been a dream or some cruel trick your body is playing on you. But the sporadic bursts of discomfort subside with each new roll of Joel’s hips, blooming into something pleasurable and sweet, pulling up from deep inside of you.

Emotion bubbles to the surface before you can even tame it, your eyes brimming with tears when Joel bottoms out inside of you, pulling back and pushing in to the hilt again. It feels good, amazing even, to be so full of him, to celebrate this victory, even if only for today.

“Shit. Sweetheart, you’re okay, right? Are you hurting?” Joel freezes when he sees your watery eyes, every muscle coiled stiffly, his face screwed up in fear.

You shake your head, fighting the urge to sob, but Joel’s faithful, genuine concern puts you over the edge. Tears spill, rolling down your cheeks in profound little streaks, every bit of your frustration and pain and anger from the last half of a year pouring out into this beautiful display of pure joy.

“I swear, I’m happy, I’m happy,” you cry out, immediately cradled in Joel’s arms.

“Good,” Joel breathes out in relief. “You’re happy, I’m the happiest fuckin’ guy in the world.”

His words make the tears flow faster, but you start to laugh amidst it all “Stop making me cry harder!” you chastise him, hugging him tightly around the neck. 

“Joel…” you say after a long, tender embrace, the two of you soaking it in. His cock still throbs inside of you, reminding you of the pleasure you’d started to chase moments ago, lost to the emotion of the moment.

“Hm?” he asks, pulling his head from where it had been buried in the crook of your to look at you.

“Please fuck me now.”

He grins, the movement lighting up his entire face with a lusty glow before he eagerly crashes his lips with yours again. When you see his eyes again, you swear they’re a shade darker, his cheeks tinged with the color of desire. Low and gravelly, he finally speaks. 

“Grab your god damned vibrator, sweetheart.”

to answer your 💌 my writing process is a little all over the place! i used to write mostly linearly, that was what worked for me and i kind of thought of everything in order. but lately i have been doing a bit more doc hopping when i get stuck. maybe writing a later scene that i have ideas for and feel like it's more fleshed out or going back and polishing older paragraphs and such. i definitely am not a big outliner and plotter, which i'd like to get better about! but mostly everything just lives in my head and gets blobbed onto the doc once i have time to write it, which sometimes leaves things forgotten hehe

(divider by @/saradika-graphics!)

[gameo-archive]

"1st, thank you so much for your birthday wishes to my friend, Ryan. they loved your video so much! 2nd, it's a bit tricial, but you were the first person to use they/them for me out loud and it really meant a lot to me. Thank you! 3rd, plz give belly scratches to Raffy for me? he deserves them. And finally, onto my question: a couple of friends in the SaveDeadBoyDetectives discord and I were wondering about Edwin if he had been able to grow up and wasnt murdered that night.

What would he have studied?

What proffestion would he have gone into?

Would he have been able to come out as gay?

Would he have entered a lavender marriage?

What r ur thoughts?"

Thanks for tagging me, Bex!

My second cameo! I posted my ask below, and I captioned it for everyone :)

He's so sweet ^_^

@gameo-archive

[freakbabyy]

soft universe - Eris Vanserra x Princess!Reader Chapter Three

< chapter two | chapter three | chapter four >

3.004k words

warnings: drama, smitten!eris again, mating bonds

thank you thank you thank YOU for all of the love this has received, the comments, reblogs, and likes <333 i love you guys as much as lucien loves his hair

-----

Story preview: Y/N Erling - youngest descendent to the King of Vallahan, not special, youngest of seven girls and four boys, and certainly not next in line to the throne. A kind soul, free-natured, always does what's asked. Content with spending the rest of her fae life taking care of her nieces and nephews while her elder siblings dealt with court dealings. That was until they drew up an agreement - her hand in exchange for their agreement to the treaty with Prythian. Enter Eris Vanserra - new high lord who did not want a wife, nor a mate. Can they work it out together - under pressure from a blood rite, a language barrier, a culture barrier, and Eris' unfortunate attempts at flirting.

-----

chapter three - the seed

Third POV 

Eris Vanserra the entire next day spent his free time with his dagger and a thick piece of wood. Even during meetings, he would take the two items out – nicking his fingers only a few times, yet continued with what he was doing. Anytime someone questioned what he was doing, he either ignored the question or changed the subject. However, after half a day it finally began to take shape and he couldn’t hide it from prying eyes all day – he had to finish after all. 

“Is that a flower?” His eldest and most trusted brother, Garreth, questioned. “Is it for your betrothed?” 

“Shut up.” Eris responded, working on a petal of it, using his flames to catch the end of it on fire before putting it out – giving it a tinted colour. “Yes.” 

“I never knew you were a romantic, dear brother.” His other brother, Marcus, spoke that time – nodding in approval. “If you use the dull side of the knife, you can add details to it.” 

“I didn’t ask for your advice, you two.” As he spoke, he took his brothers advice anyway, adding small details to the stem. 

“No, because knowing how stubborn you are you’d refuse to ask, even if you needed it desperately.”  

“Sometimes I really hate you two.” 

“Love you too, brother.” Marcus stood, leaving the room to attend to duties he had most likely, leaving the other two siblings. 

“When do you see her again?” Garreth wondered, admiring his brother's newfound hobby. 

“Tomorrow, after the meeting. I’m taking her for a walk through the forest, here.”  

“Seeing her again so soon? Smitten are we, brother?” Eris didn’t respond right away, and his brothers teasing smile widened. “It’s about time, you deserve to be happy.” 

“Agree to disagree.” Was his only response, as he stood up, “We have a meeting with some new advisors in a bit. We’d better get going.” 

He left before his brother could say anything more. He let out a sigh, 

“Stubborn lovestruck fool.” 

----- 

“He what?!” Nesta dropped the book she was holding onto, letting it fall to her lap – page forgotten. 

“Did you not hear me?” Y/N cocked her head to the side, getting used to Prythian sayings still. 

“No, no I heard you; it just startled me – I didn’t expect it.” Nesta picked her book back up, cursing as she looked for her page, sticking her bookmark in randomly. “When did you-?” 

“I was looking out Nyx’s window, overlooking the river, and a figure caught my attention – he appeared out of nowhere before standing in front of the door. He stood for a while I feared he was a criminal.” Y/N laughed a bit, “But then I thought, what criminal shows up in the light? Until Cassian took him inside. Then it clicked when I saw his face turn.” 

“Do you think it clicked for him too?”  

“I don’t know. He was quiet.”  

“That’s out of character for him, actually.” Nesta sipped her tea, settling her book down just as Morrigan strolled in. 

“What’re we talking about?” She plopped onto the couch beside Y/N, tucking her feet underneath her. “Boys?” 

“Ah, yes!”  

“Eris is Y/N’s mate.” Nesta spoke the same time as Y/N, blunt in stating the facts. 

“WHAT?” Morrigan sat up straight, her feet falling to the floor, “Since when?!” 

“Two days ago.” Y/N answered this time, fidgeting with the edge of her shirt – it was a pale green, a sharp contrast to her dark pants curtesy of Morrigan. She had been supplying Y/N with clothing more common in Prythian, rather than just dresses in Vallahan. “I just spoke it, I’m nervous today.” 

“To spend time with him today?”  

“Yes. I gift him two carvings last time.” 

“I’m sure he likes them, is that what you’re worried about?” 

“I don’t know, a feeling.” The girls’ conversation was cut short, a knock happening at the door. “Ah, him?”  

Nesta opened the door, settling aside as it was indeed the Autumn high lord. He was dressed casually, a stark difference to his usual attire. A white buttoned shirt with green trousers.  

“Good morning,” Eris greeted the room, which was coincidentally full of women he feared. He spoke next just to Y/N. “Are you ready, then?” 

“Yes,” She nodded, walking towards him, following him outside the door to go past the townhouse’s wards. 

“Ah, don’t be out too late, children!” A voice shouted from the second-floor window, 

“Fuck off, Cassian!” Was Eris’ reply before he turned his back to the window, holding out a hand. “Have you winnowed before?” 

“Yes, from Vallahan with Morrigan. It is a funny feeling.” Y/N confirmed, taking his large warm hand in her own, ignoring the feeling of electricity going up her arm raising the hair in its wake. 

“Oh before we go,” Eris let go to dig in his pocket, producing a beautifully carved wooden lily, “I wanted to follow your custom, to the best of my ability – I’m afraid I don’t know how to carve stone.” 

“How did you colour it?” Y/N wondered aloud, inspecting its darkened petals, and even darker stem. It wasn’t paint, or charcoal. 

“I carefully burned it,” He demonstrated by holding up his hand, which produced light blue flames, which faded into orange ones, before flickering out. “The hotter the flame the darker the colour, it just takes control to be able to not disintegrate the entire thing... Do you like it?” 

“I love it,” Her smile was so wide it looked as if her cheeks hurt, she carefully put it into her pocket on her breast, patting it for safe keeping. “I can’t wait to display on my bed table. Thank you.”  

“You’re very welcome,” He stuck his hand out again, as she grasped it – finally winnowing to the middle of the forest, a path he often took his hounds on. “Morrigan said you enjoyed flowers, there are a bunch a bit up the trail.” 

Eris took in Y/N, who was taking in the scenery around her. She just now looked up, from bending over at the knees after winnowing. Her face lit up; she twirled slowly looking at everything around her. The different types of trees and leaves, at their many colours, even to the different insects buzzing around. 

“What are that?” Y/N wondered aloud, bending down to look at a tiny thing at the base of a tree, nearly covered by the foliage. She carefully poked at it – recoiling at the texture. Eris held in a small laugh, 

“That’s a mushroom,” He pulled one out of the ground, and showed her the underneath – which had her touching it, feeling the odd textures. “Do they not have mushrooms where you hail?” 

“On plates for eating, not like this.” She turned her head, instead inspecting something on a fallen tree trunk, “What this?” 

“That would be an ant,” He watched her in wonder, what else did she not know of? “Do they have any forests where you’re from?” 

“No,” She started walking, he sped to catch up to her, “We only have mountains, so high up that not many things grow. I saw grass for the first time when I came here. It feels nice.” 

Eris wasn’t sure what to say to that, in truth he felt a little pity – she never climbed trees as a child? She never ran barefoot through a meadow, chased by her siblings as they played a game? Too lost in thought he hadn’t realized she disappeared. 

“Y/N?” He spoke, a bit alarmed at where she could have gone and thought the worst. His resolve relaxed when he heard a giggle from above and looked up – she was in the tree. Hanging upside down, her hair hanging below her. “What by the mother are you doing?” 

“Hanging around,” She smiled, as he came closer, “It like climbing rocks at home.” 

“Be careful, I don’t need you dying on our first date, please.” Eris joked, as she dismounted with ease, landing on her feet – when did she take her shoes off? 

“I won’t,” Y/N confirmed, running off to look at something else new, and the more Eris thought she reminded him of his hounds, always so curious to look at something new. “Eris?” 

He could get used to hearing his name on her lips. 

“Yes?” As he approached, she turned around, and he was appalled. “Where in Prythian did you get that? How did you even pick it up?” 

“It was in bushes, friendly like a cat.” In her hands, was an entire fox. It was currently sniffing her hair yet not being hostile. 

“Are you a fox-whisperer?” Eris questioned, cautiously walking forward to take a look at it. It didn’t seem injured, rather relaxed if anything. He reached out to lightly pet it, and it didn’t bite him. 

“Animals like me,” Y/N smiled, giving it a hug before releasing it back into its bush, waving goodbye. 

“Whatever you say, mother-fox.” He held up his hands, watching once more as Y/N returned to the trail before wandering off to the side to look at something, a comfortable silence taking over before the light ahead got closer – the meadow. 

“Ah,” Y/N ran forward, hitting the meadow at full speed – her calves being tickled by the wildflowers and tall grass, “It feels funny!” 

Eris sat on a raised rock, where he often sat when he needed alone time, enjoying watching Y/N run circles around him, almost dancing in the meadow. When she spotted a new flower she stopped abruptly, bending to look at it, sniffing it, and moving on. It must have been about ten minutes before she finally collapsed beside him, lying flat on her back out of breath. 

“Have fun?” 

“Yes. Though, it remind me of a word I do not know in your tongue.” She sat up, leaning on her elbows. 

“Try to describe it, maybe I know it?”  

“I can’t, it’s too...” She seemed to have gotten an idea, she pointed to the bottom of her foot, “Here.” 

Eris stayed silent, unknowing what she could mean, until she grasped his foot that was on the rock, crossed on his knee. She began untying his boot, pulling it off with force that almost knocked her over, and then pulled his sock off, 

“What by the mother are you doing?” 

“Trust!” Was all she said, before pushing his foot off, and as it touched the grass and wildflowers though, he pulled it back up, holding in a laugh – his knee jerk reaction being what she pointed at, “That!” 

“My reaction?” She nodded, “It tickled, are you ticklish?” 

“Ah! Tick-Lish!” Y/N confirmed, “The meadow is tick-lish.” 

“There’s a new word for you, today.” Eris smirked as he pulled his sock and shoe back on, not choosing to go barefoot like she had. 

“Well technically my word of day was ‘radish’, but I like tick-lish better.” Eris’ nose scrunched, 

“Why radish?” 

“I bit into it thinking it was baby apple, not apple. I did not like.” 

“I don’t blame you, I don’t either.” 

“Tell me more, about you.” Y/N spoke, sitting cross legged across from him, he copied how she was sitting to look at her fully. “What colour do you like?” 

“My favourite colour?” He confirmed, she nodded, “I like green. A deep green – almost like moss. What about you? What’s yours?” 

“I like... (You can insert your own favourite colour, and what it reminds you of : ) mines light green, like a diluted sage green.)” She thought for a moment, “Do you have siblings?” 

“I do; I had six brothers.” 

“No sisters? Your poor mother!” Eris laughed at that, his mother had said the exact thing to herself at one point, “I have you beat, though.” 

“By the cauldron, how many siblings do you have?” 

“Ten,” His eyes widened, 

“Your poor mother,” Y/N laughed at that, “Are there any twins or triplets?” 

“Ah, three sets of twins. Do you?” 

“None, just single babies. I know you’re the youngest, too. I’m the oldest.” 

“We are the opposites!” 

“We are, though I hear we did the same thing, take care of babies.” Y/N smiled at this, 

“Ah, I love babies, they are so cute! Like... Well, I can’t think of anything really cute right now, but it would be really cute!” 

“They are, aren’t they?” Eris smiled, thinking of baby Lucien, the last baby he had taken care of. “Want to hear a secret?” 

Y/N nodded frantically, scooching closer as if they weren’t alone in the clearing, 

“The last baby I took care of, my youngest brother Lucien,” 

“Ah! Eyeball!” 

“Yes, him, you know how the autumn court is known for its fire powers, yes?” 

“Yes, orange leaves like fire, is how I remember.” 

“Indeed. Lucien, when he first laughed – let out a glow of light, so bright as if he swallowed faelight. I couldn’t explain it, neither could the one maid I had asked, worried I had messed him up,” 

“What was it?” 

“Well, come to find out, dearest Lucien and I have different fathers. My mother, had met her mate, and had conceived Lucien as a result.” 

“Who is her mate?” 

“Oh, no one, just... The High Lord of Day.” The way Y/N’s eyes widened looked painful, as she clasped her mouth with her hands, “That reaction was how I felt when I found out, trust me. My poor mother had to explain it to a fifteen-year-old me, mortified.” 

“The lady of autumn... Married to high lord of autumn, but mated to the high lord of day! What happened? Where is she now?” 

“Oh, she lives in day with him now, she is now high lady of day. She never really loved my father; their arrangement was purely political. She wasn’t too torn up when he died. Delighted, actually.” 

“I would be sad,” Eris looked up, meeting Y/N’s eyes, wide. “If you died, I mean.” 

“Oh, I hadn’t meant to bring up... You know. Our political arrangement, not in that light anyway, I really don’t want it in that light anyway – I don’t want to be my father, nor you my mother-” His rambling got cut short, a delicate hand grasping his own, 

“I know, Eris.” Y/N smiled encouragingly, “I met your father, once. I was young, apparently, I didn’t like him.”  

“When was this?” Eris questioned, completely unaware that this had taken place, 

“I was a babe, he made the trip to secure us with Hybern, my older sister, Vidia, told me that at one point he came to say hello to me and my siblings, to show his good-ness to my parents.” She laughed hard at remembering, “Apparently, when he held me, I had not only spit up all over him but also blew-out my diaper. It had gone everywhere, and the more he moved, the more it got worse-” 

She couldn’t talk anymore, full on cackling at this point – and Eris had joined her, delighted at the idea of his father covered in not only vomit, but also shit. Literally. When their laughter died down, Eris grasped her hand back, a genuine smile on his face. 

“Oh, I think the mother had known what she had done, putting us together.” Y/N looked up from their hands, quickly to his face, 

“Put us together?” He paled, 

“Oh, I didn’t- shit.” He pulled his hand away, “Cauldron, I had a whole speech planned to tell you, and a picnic, and I wanted to wait awhile until I sprung that on you, but I was too caught up in the moment-” 

He was interrupted by Y/N launching herself into him, nearly knocking him off of the rock, securing her hands around his shoulders,  

“I knew you felt it too! Though I do like picnics, if that is an option, still.” 

“I- you knew too? When?” Eris was at a loss for words, 

“I saw you outside Nyx’s window, you were stood at the door – for a while.” 

“You saw that!? That’s humiliating! I was so scared to meet you!” Eris groaned, rubbing his hand down his face, as Y/N laughed a bit.  

“When did you know?” 

“When I saw you singing to Nyx, it was lovely. I was completely entranced by your singing. You’re so caring to Nyx, too.” 

“Oh, that is better than standing at a doorway for ten minutes.” Eris groaned again, “Kidding!” 

“You aren’t upset? About the bond?” 

“Ah, no. I grew up hearing stories of it, how wonderful it is. Even now, with everyone at home with a mate. It is beautiful. What about you? You are high lord; you have a lot to do right now...” 

“I am, and I’m ecstatic. Ah, that means very happy. I do have a lot right now, and it might take a while for me to fully be able to devote my time to you, but in the meantime... I’m more than happy to spend my free time with you, my free days wherever you want, here or there.” 

“We can go slow; we have all the time.” Y/N concluded, as Eris agreed, pressing a light kiss to the back of her hand, 

“Though, we shouldn’t announce it yet, to anyone other than who needs to know. I have a lot of enemies at the moment, especially in autumn. I do not wish for them to harm you.” 

“I might have told Nesta. And Morrigan.” 

“That’s fine, I trust them. They’re good at holding secrets. Plus, I told my brothers last night, they practically pestered me until I told them what I was hiding.” 

“Okay, then only Nesta, Morrigan and your brothers?” 

“Works for me,” Eris nodded, standing, “It’s been three hours, I should probably get you home, before they come to strangle me. Nesta scares me.” 

“Ah, good idea. I promised to put Nyx down for his afternoon nap.” 

“I’ll see you next week? For our next afternoon together? Same time?” 

“Yes,” Y/N smiled, and Eris smiled back. 

Both of them excited for what the future holds, for the first time in forever. 

-----

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lmk if you wanna be tagged! :)

[pureastrologywisdom]

𝔗𝔥𝔢 𝔐𝔦𝔫𝔡 𝔬𝔣 𝔞 𝔓𝔦𝔰𝔠𝔢𝔰 𝔐𝔢𝔯𝔠𝔲𝔯𝔶

Someone commented on my TikTok wondering why I said Pisces Mercuries were so special. They said ‘but Mercury is debilitated in Pisces’. Now whilst I couldn’t be bothered to explain it to them in the comments, I did think it made a rather good post on here. What does make a Pisces Mercury so special? 

This question came in regard to a topics I had written about. I was writing on Placements that had a natural connection to esoteric knowledge. This person couldn’t grasp why I wrote that. Stating that Pisces Mercuries must be at a disadvantage because it’s a debilitated placement.

So let’s discuss. 

Let’s look at Mercury as a planet. It rules over communication and your thought processes. How we take in/ receive information and it also contributes to how we display it.  Mercury likes logic, processing information in a more straightforward way. Hence why it works well in Gemini. 

Pisces as a sign is a little more complicated.  It’s more about intuition than the information presented in front of them. You can see how Mercury can be debilitated here, it doesn’t look for information or think of things in the more acceptable/digestible way it would prefer.

Pisces is opposite Virgo after all. A sign ruled by Mercury. Pisces is the opposite of what Virgo stands for in certain ways.  Where Virgo likes details, Pisces looks at the bigger picture. Virgo likes to be clear, Pisces focuses on illusions or things that we cannot see. 

Putting Pisces and Mercury together and you can see how, though debilitated, it creates a very interesting mind. One that may be less socially acceptable, even seen as strange. Often misunderstood or overlooked. These people have incredible intuition and it can go as far as possessing talents such as clairvoyance/ clairaudience etc. These people find it much easier getting connected to esoteric knowledge than others. The reason why this placement is so interesting is because it's debilitated. Mercury doesn't act the way it 'should' or as it usually does, this is what creates this uniqueness to these people. Mercury is looking for things it doesn't usually look for.

The same can be said for Mercury in the 12th house, and Neptune in the 3rd house.

I hope I made this more clear.

Thank you for reading as always.

Pureastrowisdom x

Also if you would like to follow my TikTok it's @ plutonian.priestess on TikTok

[somekidnamedkai]

Can I request Trey clover x reader where he, the reader and adeuce are in the kitchen baking and adeuce knows that Trey and reader like each other but hasn't said it yet. Reader is like okay hand me the tray and they push Trey into their arms and he goes with it. Okay you have me where do you want me now?

Authors note: My first fic from my year long hiatus. I loved this so so much, i hope you enjoy it, thanks for requesting anon!

Character: Trey Clover

Word count: 1073

Warnings: None

You and Trey had obvious chemistry… to everyone except you two. I mean, you and Trey were just friends. That didn’t stop you from having a huge crush on him though. How could you not? Not only was he gorgeous, he was attentive and kind. But there was no way he felt the same, at least not in your opinion. 

Your friends Ace and Deuce, however, thought differently. Why, you ask? Because Trey had said the same thing to them, how he adored you and your beautiful smile and how he wished you felt the same but you didn’t. The pair of first years just looked at each other in return, wondering how the two of you were just so oblivious to each other's obvious pining. Maybe if the two of you opened your eyes you’d just see how you were meant for each other. Which is why Ace and Deuce took it upon themselves to get you together.

You, Ace, and Deuce were in the Heartslabyul kitchen with Trey, getting ready to bake tarts, cakes, cookies, and other treats for the upcoming unbirthday party. Trey had needed some help preparing, and you being the lovesick fool, I mean, good friend that you were, offered to help him, stringing Ace and Deuce along, which to your surprise they went along with, which only made you question what they were scheming.

You were currently mixing some dough for a batch of cookies you were baking, although your mind kept drifting elsewhere, wondering how different this scenario would be had you been dating Trey. Would he be closer to you, showing you more hands-on what to you, or would he keep his vice housewarden exterior and devote everything to make sure the treats were perfect for the party, after all, his housewarden was a perfectionist. “Thanks again, Prefect, your help is greatly appreciated,” Trey’s voice snapped you out of your thoughts. He looked perfect over there, his hair all messy, some dough on his face, and his grin- you shook your head, bringing yourself back to reality once again. 

“Anytime, Trey, it’s no problem, really,” you replied to your friend, a small smile appearing on your face after his compliment. You returned to your task poured some chocolate chips into the cookie batter and mixed them in. Soon you were finished with the mixing and were reading to start putting the cookies on a tray to bake. You looked around, unable to find a tray to place the cookies on, ���hey can someone hand me the tray?” you asked aloud, hoping one of the others had one near you.

To your surprise, Trey was shoved into your arms by your snickering first-year friends whom you glared at for a second before returning your attention to the vice housewarden in your arms. “Alright, prefect, you have me, what do you want me to do now?” He asked you following it up with a wink.

“I-uh- Ace!” You shouted but the first year was nowhere to be seen, neither was Deuce. You pushed Trey away, blushing furiously, and turned away, hoping your crush wouldn’t notice how red you were right now. “Uhm, could you hand me a cookie tray?” You asked, getting shy all of a sudden. Despite being head over heels for the man in front of you, it wasn’t like you to be shy around him.

Trey chuckled, and you looked at him, noticing a redness in his cheeks. Which only made you more flustered. “Sure you wouldn’t want me doing anything else?” He asked with a grin before walking away to grab a tray. “You have strong arms,” Trey blurted out, before quickly adding on to his words, “I mean- you caught me fairly easily when those two shoved me at you, neither of us lost our balance.” He rambled on as he returned with two cookie trays in his hands. 

“Oh, thank you,” You said gently as you grabbed the trays from his hands and quickly busied yourself with placing balls of dough onto the trays in front of you to distract yourself from him. “I wonder what that was about anyways,” you tried laughing it off as you carefully rolled balls of dough, making sure all of them were an inch, not too big or small.

Trey chuckled as he nodded in agreement, “They probably did that because of my crush on you. Trying to quite literally push us together,” he said nonchalantly as if he didn’t just confess to having a crush on you.

You sputtered and stuttered for a second, before recollecting yourself and speaking “You have a crush on me? Seriously?” You were shocked, there was no way he didn’t feel the same, and yet he did. This must have been some kind of prank. Yup, Ace and Deuce would walk back in any minute now and say so.

Trey chuckled slightly before answering “Yeah, I have a major crush on you, those two wouldn’t stop teasing me about it for weeks. I’m sorry if I made you uncomfortable with saying that, I hope you don’t mind and we can still be friends.”

Your jaw could have hit the ground with how shocked you were. Here he was, your best friend and crush confessing to you all because of a prank from Ace and Deuce. You silently reminded yourself to thank them later before looking into Trey’s eyes. “No,” you started and Trey looked disappointed for a second before you started speaking again “I mean- I want to be more than friends, I- I like you too, I have for a long time now, in fact, I also told Ace and Deuce although I regret it, but I really like you, and how perfect you are and-” 

Trey cut you off by cupping your cheeks and kissing you, which you returned, feeling his lips on yours. It was an amazing feeling that you wanted to never end. But it did as Trey pulled away and smiled at you. He opened his mouth to speak but before he could there was cheering coming from the door. The two of you turned to look to see what it was and it was your favorite duo, standing there cheering like this was an Olympic sport. “Finally.” Ace said, “It only took you two forever to confess.” The two of you laughed before looking back at each other and smiled before kissing again.

[man-i-love-fanfiction]

To Share the Space with Simple Living Things - Hozier x Fem!Florist!Reader

Chapter 6: Pink Camellias - Longing For You

Summary: Andy stops by on a particularly stressful day, and a different favorite customer gives you a bit of a rude awakening.

Word Count: 2442

Author's Note: Hey my lovelies! Thank you all so much for the positive feedback I've received from so many of you since the last chapter. Enjoy this chapter, this one and the next one are going to be on the shorter side to prepare for an upcoming behemoth i have planned ;)

tag list: @celery-grace @gayandfairycore @deathmybride @harry-bowie-mercury @hodgepodge-musings @blue-eyed-bug @secretttytttttttttt @dinner-n-dxatribes @wub-wub-wub-wub-wub @padfootblackswh0r3 @axel-the-boy-witch

fic under the cut <3

So far, your day was terrible, which meant it was on par with the rest of your week.

Everything you had detailed on that late night phone call to Andy a few weeks ago had only gotten worse. The date for foreclosure was slowly approaching, your debt nearly canceled out by the sheer amount of customers you were getting recently. You could only imagine it had just become an online trend to… be nice to your partner? Whatever the incentive was, it was helping out the business, but not so much your wallet.

You often brought your frustrations to Andy, and he was so supportive it made your heart ache. Even though he’d explicitly stated often that it was completely fine for you to vent to him like this, you apologized profusely every time. This is how talking to him would start, though after a few minutes they diverged to a million other topics.

This was exactly the kind of conversation you were planning on having when he visited you today. And you couldn't wait. A countdown of the seconds until he walked in was playing in your brain.

One, two, three.

You needed the break from your life that talking to Andy offered you.

_Four, five, six._

You craved the stability, how even if your life was crumbling before you, you would always be able to find him in the rubble.

Seven, eight, nine.

He wasn't your sole motivator to keep going, but he definitely helped.

Ten—

"Hey there.”

Uncharacteristically perfect timing.

You pulled your attention away from the clock on the wall to catch your first glimpse of him for the day. For the first time since you’d met him, he was wearing a hat, a black baseball cap with some logo on it you didn't recognize. His hair was tied back into a bun. Though he had his attempts at being stylish from time to time, today was not one of them, his zip-up hoodie and jeans making it evident that today was not a day where he felt like trying. Maybe he was having as crappy of a day as you were. Just in case he was, you greeted him with more enthusiasm in your voice than usual.

“Hi! How's it going?”

“Pretty alright, actually,” he started, before continuing his sentence with a question that seemed to give you a headache simply by hearing it. “How are you?”

You sighed before you spoke, grimacing just at the thought of your emotions.

“I am so stressed that talking about how stressed I am will only make me more stressed. I need a change of pace. And topic.”

He picked up what you were putting down immediately, something that had become almost like second nature to him. A good distraction.

“There was something I’ve been meaning to ask you, now that you've reminded me.”

Oh no.

The thoughts of what he could possibly have to ask you began to cloud your mind, and some of the various possibilities made your heart beat much faster than it should. When he started so say something again, there was a hint of nervousness in his voice. Unusual for you, since you’d grown so accustomed to him being more confident in your presence, but you let him speak.

“So… ehm… my birthday’s coming up in a couple of weeks. To celebrate, some of my friends and I are gonna go to the pub and I was wondering if you'd like to come along.”

To say you were relieved was an understatement. The wide smile on your face was an answer in itself, but you responded anyway.

“Andy, I’d love to.”

“Great! Grand. I’ll mark you down as saying ‘yes’.”

“There’s no way I’d say no. Wouldn't miss it for the world.”

A smile, almost the same as your own, grew on his lips.

“By the way, this will be a genuine get-together. You’ll get to meet some of my other friends, as well.”

You feigned shock.

“So it's not just me and this Alex fellow you talk about?”

“No. Contrary to popular belief, I do have more than just two friends.”

You both let out your own laughs, almost in unison with one another. To be joking around with someone you trusted and kept so close… for a moment, it helped you believe everything was alright.

“I’m excited to celebrate with everyone,” you said, sincerity returning to your tone. “Get ready for a present for the ages. For the history books, even.”

He shook his head in denial, stopping your excitement in its tracks.

“Y/N, you don't have to get me anything . I’m a grown man, I’ll live if I don't get a birthday present.”

“Well, I’m a grown woman and I wouldn't be able to live with myself if I didn't get you anything. So let me-”

The conversation was interrupted by the sound of the bell above the door ringing.

You peeked behind him at who had just walked in. You had to look down to meet her gaze, and when you realized you recognized her weathered face, you smiled.

“Violet! Great to see you! I’ll be right with you.”

Andy tilted his head at your exclamation.

“Violet?”

“Remember when I said you were tied for the title of my favorite customer with a little old lady? I wasn't joking. Meet your competitor.”

You watched as he looked over his shoulder, his head turning to be met with a small, older woman with gray hair and possibly the warmest smile you’d ever seen. Clutching onto purse with one hand like her life depended on it, she gave him a small wave.

“I think I’ll shut myself up for now. You have actual clients to get to.”

“Alright. I’ll come by your work tomorrow. Oh, and about your birthday. Just text me the time and the address and I’ll be there. With an amazing present because you can't stop me.”

A small smile, the kind that barely showed his teeth, spread across his face.

“Thank you. I will see you then.”

He waved goodbye, and you could’ve sworn you saw ink smudged on the side of his hands.

Both of you watched as he left, though with different intentions behind your gazes. You pulled your eyes away when he left, almost afraid to keep your gaze on him. Violet's eyes, however, seemed to linger, from shock more than anything else. Once he was out of both of your fields of vision, you returned to facing each other.

Violet had become part of your routine, and you slowly became part of each other's lives. Every time she came in, she talked to you about anything on her mind. Yet for the chatterbox that she was, she managed to be an enigma for you. She came in monthly, on the first day of the month, always ordering flowers as a centerpiece for when her “group of ladies” came around. You couldn't tell if she was in a book club or a coven, but neither answer would surprise you. In as sweet a tone as ever, she initiated your conversation.

“I’ve been here a thousand times, but I don't think I’ve ever seen that man before. Who was that?”

“Oh, that's Andy. He's my…”

You couldn't quite find the words to complete that sentence. Andy was your friend, obviously, but the word felt so odd, almost bitter on your tongue. You couldn't bring yourself to say it. To save yourself any pain, you tiptoed around it.

“He works at the tattoo parlor a few blocks away. He visits me sometimes.”

“He seems like such a sweet young man.”

“He is! He really is.” You nodded.

Violet, despite her years of living and likely unlimited wisdom, found nothing wrong with her next sentence.

“I don't mean to pry, but I had no idea you were dating someone! How long have you two been together?"

Your eyes widened so much you were afraid they would pop out of your skull. What in the world could have made her ask that? Why did your palms get so clammy? Had someone turned up the heat?

“Oh, no.” You shook your head. “No, no, no. Andrew and I… we aren't dating. We're just friends.”

The older woman raised a quizzical brow, as if she didn't believe you.

“Are you sure?”

“Yes, I’m sure, Violet. I’d know if I was in a relationship.”

“Then, is he sure?”

“He's sure. too. We're not dating. We're friends. Friends.”

Were you trying to convince her or yourself?

She shook her head, accompanied by a tsk, tsk, tsk.

“What is it?”

“Dear, I’ve been around for… I’m not even sure how many years. I know a look filled with love when I see it. And the way that boy looks at you is the same look I’ve seen in loves that last lifetimes. It's the same look my wife gives me every single day. One of you should do something about that look.”

Her thorough analysis left you stunned. You attempted to put the pieces together in your brain, trying to mask your confusion as you did so.

“I’d never noticed that before.”

“Youth is wasted on the young. What’s the point of eyesight if you're not going to use it?”

You chuckled at that, though you also used it as a way to ignore the truth behind the statement. Did he look at you a certain way? Were you so deep into your oblivion that you just never noticed before? Or so deep into your own infatuation, too busy staring at him through your own eyes, to pay attention to how you might look through his? With all your newfound. overthinking all you could do was reply with a small, genuine smile.

“Thank you for that. I appreciate the advice.”

Violet was capricious in her conversation, easily distracted if you could get her back on the right track. In this moment, you utilized her fickleness to steer her back on track. Or at least, get the conversation back on the track you were comfortable with.

“Do you have a bouquet request?”

She thought for a moment, giving you a slow nod before she verbalized her answer.

“Well, it is starting to be spring time, and the girls and I just finished reading a Jane Austen novel, so love is in the air. Maybe focus on pink. I’ll let you handle the rest. I’ll be back later on to pick it up."

She placed the same vase she used monthly on the counter. It bounced back and forth between you two, exchanged each time you created a new arrangement. The only thing that changed was the color of the bow on the exterior.

“Sounds like a plan. Have a lovely day.”

“You too, dear.”

One last warm smile crossed her face before she went to leave. She shuffled her way out the door, leaving you room to get started.

Violet’s lenient instructions were perfect; it gave you a guideline, but mostly the creative control was in your hands. The only thing you had to keep in mind was pink.

The first idea your mind went to was pink camellias. They were in season, and with spring on the horizon, they were perfect. And you couldn't turn down adding them in when their meaning was so poetic. Longing for you. It tugged at your heartstrings just to think about it — how people from hundreds of years ago felt the same emotions, the same deep want or need for a person, as people do today. A feeling so strong they couldn't put it in words, or didn't trust themselves to say it. So they let a flower take its place.

Pink camellias had to be the focus.

Using the vase Violet had left behind, you worked the rest of your suggestions, mixing and matching until both beauty and semantics aligned. Pink roses, perfect happiness. Magenta zinnia, lasting affection. Mix in some white carnations for sweetness and innocence to break it up, and it was finished. The ladies were sure to love it, whether they were casting a spell or reading Jane Eyre.

For the first time in a few days, you wanted to feel calm. You had been too many things going on in your life for you to focus on being present.

There was so much stress looming over you recently. You were unsure just how much longer you would have your place of work. Your family and your friends all seemingly wanted you to be more ahead in your life than you were. You had a huge, almost debilitating crush on Andy, and he probably didn't reciprocate.

Andy. He had been there for you whenever you need to talk about all that was on your mind, his kindness never wavering. Even though he was receptive to you, there was still a sense of guilt for spilling your guts to him like that. You were there for him as well, of course, though he didn't have as many complaints about his daily life as you did. All his kindness and his attention only made you like him even more, only making you more nervous and stressed about liking him. It was a downward spiral, and an exceedingly dizzying one at that.

The flower shop was the only refuge you could have. When you weren't in a state of worry over orders or foreclosure, it was the part of your day that provided you the most comfort. You had the opportunity to make these beautiful works and showcase your creativity and here you were, taking it for granted. You needed to ground yourself, to take a breather, to be in the moment.

So in your moment of desperation, you turned to your flowers for comfort.

Being so exposed to the scent of the flowers every day for years meant you got used to them over time. You slowly got accustomed until you eventually couldn't even detect the unique aroma of your workplace.

You took a pause, and leaning over the arrangement, you took a deep breath.

You had literally stopped to smell the roses.

The more shocking part was that it worked. You had successfully grounded yourself by stopping to appreciate your surroundings. Surely that had to be a metaphor for something.

You were snapped out of your tranquility. Of course you were.

You heard a voice, slightly judgmental and maybe a bit concerned, from the other side of the room.

“What was that?”

You perked up at the sound of the bell above the door, and quickly pulled yourself away from the flowers.

“Nothing! How can I help you?”