#the house to me feels only questionable to one's health

[httpswritings]

When I Was Your Woman

alexia putellas x reader — angst with happy ending, nsfw content and mentions of cheating and physical and mental health and conditions.

When you walked away from Alexia, you made a vow to yourself—one you swore you’d never break: you would never forgive her.

“It was just a kiss,” she’d said, her voice trembling.

But to you, it was never just a kiss. It was the first crack in the foundation of trust, the prelude to betrayal.

She begged. Fell to her knees, hands clutching at your sleeves, desperate. Her pleas hung thick in the air, dissolving into the silence between you.

It had happened that night, during the celebration of yet another team victory. The atmosphere was electric, the kind of night where possibilities felt infinite—until they shattered.

In a single, fleeting moment, she was locked in a sloppy, too-deep kiss with a blonde stranger. It ended almost as soon as it began, but the damage carved itself into your bones.

Alexia pulled away, face flushed, the room spinning as if the world itself were recoiling from her.

The blonde woman stepped closer, reaching for her again, but Alexia shoved her back.

Without a word, she tossed cash onto the bar and stormed into the night.

When she got into her car, she punched the steering wheel in frustration.

The memory of you both lying on the couch on a Sunday morning, talking about various topics, came rushing back. You had told her you'd never forgive infidelity, and she had promised she would never do that to you. The weight of that memory suffocated her.

She wanted to crash her car, to feel physical pain—anything to distract from the emotional agony of what she had done to you.

It took her a while to get home.

Alexia couldn't forget what you told her:

"I hope you enjoyed the kiss, because that was the moment you lost me."

And you were right. The price of kissing that blonde stranger was losing the love of her life.

You were determined to leave Barcelona, and thankfully, for your sanity, Alba, Alexia's sister, let you stay for the night.

The next morning, you woke up early and went to buy some presents for Alexia’s family, especially for her sister, mother, and grandmother.

You knew it was inevitable that you would lose contact with her family, and that hurt you as much as Alexia’s betrayal.

Still, you made a promise to yourself to call Alexia’s grandmother every week, and you were a woman of trust.

Eli didn’t say much, and neither did you.

“I’m sorry, Eli. I know Alexia is your daughter, and so is your sister, Alba. I don’t want to speak badly about her in front of you, so I'd rather not give you any explanations.”

They understood.

You saw Alexia’s family a couple of times after that, with the exception of her grandmother, whom you visited often.

The poor lady understood that you didn’t want to see Alexia, so she always let you know when it was safe to visit.

Two years later, you found yourself standing in front of Alexia’s apartment door.

You didn’t know what to expect, so you kept your hopes in check.

When you saw on your phone that Alexia had torn her ACL, you felt a deep empathy for her.

You didn’t know much about that type of injury, but after reading about it and understanding how difficult the recovery process would be, you decided to visit her.

When you rang the bell, Alexia was on the couch. Alone. She had asked Eli and Alba to leave for an hour or so because she needed some time alone, as silence filled the house.

She had been deeply upset by your departure, and the injury only deepened her depression.

Even after two years, her heart still waited for you.

It was a challenge for her to get up from the sofa because she was still awaiting surgery. Her leg was immobilized, making movement nearly impossible.

Just as you were about to leave, thinking she might not live there anymore, she opened the door.

The initial shock of seeing you made her drop her crutches.

She called your name carefully, her tone questioning, as if she thought you might disappear. You nodded.

Suddenly, her face turned red, and she covered it with her hands, letting out a deep, heart-wrenching cry.

You ran to her and embraced her fully, soothing her.

The way she held onto you sent a shiver down your spine.

“Don’t leave, please… Don’t. Don’t.”

Her grip was almost painful, but you knew she didn’t mean to hurt you.

“I’m not leaving, but let’s go inside so you can sit down.”

You helped Alexia by handing her the crutches and guiding her to the sofa.

She kept looking at you intensely, afraid to glance away.

“I came because I saw the news, and I was worried,” you explained.

Alexia was visibly moved and could barely speak, so you continued.

“Especially because of what I told you when it happened.”

«I hope football betrays you as badly as you betrayed me.»

“I’m not happy about what happened to you. Even if I said that, even if I meant it at the time, I truly hope you recover as soon as possible.”

Inside Alexia, something healed, but she still felt like a monster for what she did to you. When she tore her ACL, the first image that came to her mind was you shouting that sentence to her face.

«I hope football betrays you as badly as you betrayed me» and football did, but not as badly as she betrayed your loyalty, your dignity, your love.

When Alexia cheated on you, you were peacefully sleeping on your bed, in one of her shirts. “It helps me sleep when you're out, and not by my side,” you told her. “I’ll be back sooner than you expect, just in time to cuddle you,” she told you. When Alexia came home after that kiss, she didn't cuddle you, she couldn't. Alexia felt absolutely disgusted with herself, and touching you, your kind and lovely self, felt like a profanity. That's why, when she saw you asleep, she spent almost the whole night looking at you, knowing that would be the last night seeing you.

“Ale, say something please.”

“I'm sorry.”

And those two words were also healing for you. When Alexia confessed her unloyalty, you didn't believe she was sorry.

«I’d never forgive you, Alexia. Never. I hope this haunts you for the rest of your life, so when you kiss any other woman, it reminds you of what you broke.»

That curse never happened because Alexia never kissed another woman after you left.

You were a mixture of contradictions. You still felt some hurt, even if you had already forgiven her, but seeing her so depressed, so visibly sorry… It was easier when you hated her, but now that your love for her made an appearance after being buried for two years, it was agonizing to not hold her and protect her.

Putting any thought aside, you carefully and minding her injury, hugged her as she was sat down, and she hid her face on your neck.

You heard her cries amplifying as the time passed by but you didn't stop her.

Crying for Alexia was a huge deal, so you knew this was necessary. She needed this release.

You tried to separate from her body to tell her «It's okay, let it out», but she held you tightly.

“No. Don't leave. Please.”

“I won't.”

You caressed her hair, her arms, her shoulders, anywhere to make her feel better.

“I won't leave, Ale, but we need to talk.”

Alexia didn't know if she was going to be able to bear this conversation, but she knew it was the minimum she had to do for you, especially after the way you were treating her.

She didn't say anything, so you decided to go on.

“I hated you for what you did, but right now, I've forgiven you. I still need time, because it’ll be very difficult for me to regain trust in you, but, if you let me, I’d love to be by your side, especially during this tough time. I've missed you every day and while coming here wasn't an easy thing to do, I felt the need to see those beautiful eyes again in front of me.”

Alexia, in between her cries, laughed clumsily. She knew that whenever you wanted to soften her, especially when she was sad, you’d talk about her eyes, her beautiful hazel eyes.

“So, despite everything, I'm here, and I'd love to have a conversation about what happened, if you're ready. I know it's not your best time, so whenever you feel ready, I’ll be ready.”

Despite Alexia's bad communication abilities, she knew she had to make the effort to match your maturity.

She thought she had lost you forever, but here you were, holding her.

Alexia suddenly felt remorse, and tried to back off.

You stiffened, not knowing why she reacted that way.

“No. You deserve better. No. No. No. You deserve better than me. I betrayed you.”

And she did, but you already knew that, and you already forgave her.

“Alexia, I already forgave you. It took me a while, but I did. I told you I need time because I need to regain trust, and if you want me to be part of your life, you’ll have to work for it, but that's another topic. There won't be a third chance, but I trust you enough to give you a second chance.”

“No. I don't want you to go through this again.”

That stirred something inside you. How could she be doubting herself already right after you were here giving her a second chance?

It took you off a little bit, enough for your fears to creep you, but deep inside, something told you that there was more behind Alexia's fear.

It wasn't that she didn't trust herself, she was deeply scared of hurting you so bad, you would not recover from it, because «there won't be a third chance».

“Ale, baby, listen…”

Baby.

That's how you used to call her, and you noticed the tears coming back to her eyes.

“Baby… you called me baby.”

It honestly worried you how upset she was with the situation.

You had never seen Alexia so out of control with herself, she was just not there.

“Yeah, I called you baby, because you know how much I loved to call you that. And I still want to call you my baby, my love, my girl. But you need to forgive yourself, Ale. It won't be until then that you’ll start to trust in yourself and then, you’ll make me trust you.”

“I can't. I won't. I don't want to. I fucked up everything. It's not only about us. Alba didn't talk to me in months. In months. And I don't blame her. I have never seen her so disappointed, and it was because of me. I can't fuck up everything again.”

“Tell me how it happened. Tell me about the night you cheated on me.”

Alexia looked at you perplexed. She didn't know why you wanted to hear that.

“I need it. I need to know why you did it and why you told me about it the following morning.”

It took Alexia a while to talk, and it wasn't until you started crying that she stopped.

“See? I want you to have a girlfriend worthy of your love. As much as I’ll always love you, as much as I’ll always wait for you, as much as these lips have the kiss of that woman as their last kiss as a reminder to haunt me every day of losing the woman of my life, I want you to do better, and that isn't with me.”

A part of you knew she could be right, but you wanted her, and for once, you didn't care about betrayal. You would worry about that tomorrow, or the day after, but right now, the only thing you wanted was to press your lips on hers, to eliminate the kiss of that woman from the club from her lips, and so you kissed her.

It was soft at first, but it had been two years without each other, and suddenly, a fierce passion wanted to make its appearance.

It's true that you didn't want to make things like this. You wanted to have a conversation, take things slow and behave like a mature adult but, for a moment, you forgot about what was right and what was wrong, only caring about the way Alexia was kissing you.

You ended up on top of her, letting her wander around your body.

Her hands touched everywhere around your belly, your waist and your back, caressing them, gripping them, delicately scratching them, and sooner you were desperate for more.

It wasn't until a small scratch on your waist made you moan, that Alexia tried to move her injured leg.

You noticed it and stopped.

“Ale, your leg… Be careful, baby.”

You noticed the resignation in Alexia’s eyes, and decided to do something about it.

“Let me handle it. Relax and don't make sudden movements. I've got you.”

You removed a little bit of her pants, enough to have fully access to her core.

“I've missed this pretty view.”

“There's no way I won't be able to move properly for months. I'm gonna go insane.” Alexia complained.

“Don't worry, my love. I can take care of you in every way,” you kissed her belly, leaving small bites, making her squirm.

“Ale, what did I say? No movements.”

“It's difficult, bebita.”

You had deeply missed that nickname and if it wasn't because you heard two familiar voices approaching outside the apartment, you would've made a mess of Alexia.

“Mierda, I told them to be back in an hour!” Alexia said as she rapidly tried to put her pants up.

She couldn't properly move past her upper thighs because she couldn't do any type of effort with her injured leg.

“Shit, Alexia, why didn't you warn me?!”

“Oh, sorry, I was too busy seeing your face below my belly—”

“Shhhh!”

You threw her a blanket to cover her exposed area.

When the door opened, Alba almost fell.

When she knew she wasn't hallucinating, she practically jumped on your arms, almost making you both fall down.

Eli got nervous too, but in a good way, especially after seeing her daughter's eyes: brilliant with that sparkle she had lost when you left.

“Alba, you're suffocating her!”

Alba kept kissing your face and holding you, like she always did with her friends when they hadn't seen each other in a while.

When you hugged Eli, you noticed how much she had missed you.

Her grip on you was tight, and when you saw her face, her eyes were watery.

You didn't know how you managed to get Eli and Alba to Alexia's bedroom, telling them that something had been bothering Alexia as she slept, but was too considerate to tell them, afraid she was considered a burden.

As you helped Alexia pull her pants up, you looked up, you saw her trying not to laugh.

You were too busy to laugh but it warmed your heart watching her shy smile.

Alba, bless her heart, was too naive but Eli knew something had been up, that's why when they came back to the living room, she shook her head laughing and rolling her eyes, looking at Alexia.

Alexia laughed and her cheeks got a reddish tone in just seconds, and had to improvise when Alba kept asking what was bothering Alexia, and giving her a lecture about how she was not a burden and that her, as the younger sister, would always be there for Alexia.

Alba and Eli spent the rest of the day and they both left at night.

As you were cleaning everything up, Alexia looked at you intensely.

You noticed her eyes on you, and you got closer to her.

“Let's get you to bed.”

“I can go by myself with the crutches, but you can join me— I mean, you can stay, well— if you want. You can stay wherever you want…”

You smiled at her nervousness, and with delicacy, you placed a kiss on her front.

“Relax, Ale. I’d love to stay with you. In bed. Is that okay?”

“Yes!”

Alexia asked you to get comfortable with the piece of clothing you liked the best.

To your surprise, she hadn't changed much of her clothes, so you chose a long silk shirt and some pants.

Changing in front of her made her visibly turned on, and you were enjoying it.

At first, she tried to not to look, but after assuring her it was okay to, she devoured your body.

Alexia remembered it in detail.

You got her pyjamas and helped her get changed.

As her upper body was bare, her nipples quickly responded.

With the fresh memory of how sensitive Alexia was around that area, you put her shirt on, because as bad as you wanted to make love to her, it had been a day full of emotions, and both of you were visibly exhausted.

Alexia had to sleep on her back because of her injury.

She told you that she had been struggling because, as you already knew, she always slept on her left side.

You got closer to her, after she assured you it was fine, and you began to place soft kisses on her face, making her giggle.

“Will you be here tomorrow by the time I wake up?”

Witnessing such a vulnerable Alexia was challenging because you didn't know how to act nor how to say, but you were actually eager to see more of it.

“Of course. But maybe you'll wake up before me.”

“That's okay, I always enjoyed waking up before you, especially to make you breakfast.”

Before laying your head on her chest, you placed a slow but delicate kiss on her lips, making her smile.

Alexia found comfort in playing with your hair as you had already fallen asleep, even though you wanted to stay awake until Alexia fell asleep.

And just how you expected, Alexia woke up before you.

Like last night, she began playing with your hair and her mind wandered to the last morning she spent with you and how different it was from this one.

This morning, she was not anxious because her mind was at peace and if you really wanted to try this again, she was determined to make you the happiest woman in the world.

Alexia knew you had a pending conversation, and that it wouldn't be easy, but when she was not going to let you down again, and just like that, your love story had its new beginning.

[ssentimentals]

hi baby! i’m a new follower here and i don’t know if you’re still doing the prompt game but i would absolutely loveeee 17 and 25 with seungcheol please :)

hi love! welcome-welcome :') prompt game is still ongoing, thank you for requesting, hopefully you will like it!💜

prompt: 'tending to an injury/wound/illness' + showing up injured at the enemy's house'

'what the fuck?' you mumble when someone starts banging at your door at - you squint at numbers on your laptop screen - at two freaking am.

there are lots of things you expected to see when you open that door. maybe some neighbor kids pulling a joke, a delivery guy who got here by mistake - not seungcheol, who's clutching at his left side, trying to stop the bleeding. your grip on the knife that you managed to grab on your way tightens and you repeat again, louder this time: 'what the fuck?'

seungcheol glances at the knife in your hands and weakly chuckles: 'you're late for that,' he mutters and lets presses harder on the wound. 'already got stabbed.'

you squint at him. there are millions questions on the tip of your tongue but what comes out first is: 'what the fuck are you doing here?' and it's a valid question, because you and cheol are enemies. you work for different people, you gather data on one another, you set up traps for his team and he tries to gain the upperhand on yours.

'i just need-' he pauses, wincing at the pain. he looks pale and worn out and his voice shakes a little as he continues: 'just- twenty minutes. that's all i need. rest up and i'll go. they won't find me here.'

accepting a guy in your house who is a) your enemy, b) has people looking for him and c) is injured, is not a smart move. but the more he stands there, the higher is the risk of someone else noticing and you doubt that he can go back on his own legs, so: 'get in, asshole.'

you push him towards the bathroom, cringing at the metallic smell of blood that fills your nose as soon as he takes off his coat and gets rid of his t-shirt. the cut is not very deep to be extremely risk for his health, but it's still a cut deep enough for- 'you're staining my carpet with your blood.'

seungcheol looks down and huffs, rolling his eyes. 'i'll buy you new one.'

you hand him soap and point towards the bath: 'get undressed and wash that wound in the bathtub. i'll come back with bandages and antiseptic.' you look him over and add: 'don't die in my bathtub.'

'bossy,' seungcheol notes but it's clear how he's barely holding himself upright. 'gonna stay here while i'm undressing?'

you should've never let him in. but people say that best defense is attack, so: 'why? do you want me to?'

seungcheol reaches for his belt, pauses and looks up at you. 'yeah. maybe then you'll like me.'

you both freeze. the way he said it - the tone - was different. not the usual teasing or rude comments, but something serious, something.. sincere. 'i won't like you,' you mutter, puzzled.

'won't? or can't?' seungcheol asks in a quiet whisper.

it's too much. an unknown territory for you that you're afraid to breach. without saying anything you walk out to get bandages and antiseptic, not noticing how seungcheol looks at you with longing that only a person who loves someone he can't have feels. and he knows it's complicated; it's the story as old as time itself - star crossed lovers who are doomed for tragedy. but when he climbs into the bathtub and tries his best to wash the wound carefully, he can't help but hope. because you let him - that has to mean something, right? you help him - that has to mean something. and maybe with enough effort seungcheol can make that turn into something beautiful, not tragic.

a/n: cheollie is so popular for requests lately, i hope i'm managing to keep up with everyone's expectations :/ hope you liked it! - nini

request your own here

my other seventeen work is here

[lovelake]

Just like the promise of spring, the eventual falling off of the Van der Linde gang brought new beginnings, leaving Arthur with no loyalties other than his love for you. 

arthur morgan x fem!reader, 1.3k wc, no illness AU because i choose happiness, afab!reader, fluff, brief mention of sex, mention of future children

A rusty ring and domesticity. Loving whispers and hearty laughter to fill the place he now calls home. Crows from roosters to start the day, barks from two dogs and wags of tails, sturdy hooves from his most trusted horses. And most importantly, a special woman to cherish until his very last breath. You.

Happiness in life was never promised, but Arthur had it at the palm of his hand now. 

Falling for an outlaw that once carried a $5,000 wanted dead or alive bounty on his head had come at a price for you back then, but the possibility of being swept up in the risk and trouble with the law hadn’t kept you away. Loving a dangerous man was thrilling. 

Settling down had always been a goal for you two once things got serious – soft whispers of shared dreams of a future house followed the rowdy nights of drunken singing at camp.

Somewhere along the way, everything materialized. Just last spring, the gang had descended from Colter into New Hanover. It felt like forever ago, though, like a distant memory.

The house you two resided in had been abandoned at first, but you both put in a lot of love into nursing it back to health and made it your own.

Routines and schedules had been difficult for him at the beginning, after all, his life was unpredictable. But it gradually grew easier to become accustomed to this kind of life when he had your gentle arms to coax him into bed at the end of the day and to wake up in. 

He was slowly crossing off a list of his favorite places that he wanted to take you to, ones that struck a chord in him in the years he had explored. So-called dates.

Tucked snugly against his side, the two of you sat beneath a large tree just a minute walk from Little Creek River. Fields of lavender lay in front of you. His new journal was set on his lap, the location crossed off - Hanging Dog Ranch.

Soft snickering of your two horses accompanied the singing of birds and bleats from deer that traveled the grass to reach the river, completely unbothered by the presence of the two sweethearts lounging about. 

“Don’t go fallin’ asleep on me, now.” His murmur was quiet, spoken with sheer adoration as his thumb rubbed up and down against the bridge of your nose, the tips of his other fingers caressing your jawline.

“You make it hard not to,” he truly did. You felt nothing but safe against him, even back then, he had always done his absolute best to keep you from harm. Now that everything was more peaceful, that feeling only grew, turning you to mush when he held you.

“Think the dogs are okay?” The question blurted from your lips as the two fluffy companions suddenly popped into your mind. 

“Yer worried ‘bout the dogs right now?” He looked at you incredulously, you felt his body rumble as he chuckled.

“Well…you know how they get, they’re probably lonely without us and the horses.”

“They’ve got each other, just like we do.”

“You’re so romantic,” spoken through a pearly smile, it sounded like a tease – but you meant it wholeheartedly. 

He grinned like an idiot, tilting his face closer towards yours so he could capture your lips into a soft kiss. The moment alone seemed to stop the world, all the outside noises pausing as you focused on the love he was channeling to you. 

Pulling away, he rested his head on top of yours with a content sigh.

“Y’see that ranch over there? O'driscoll's used to be holed up in there. Must’ve been…at least fifteen of ‘em. Someone had to be the one to end their shenanigans ‘round here so I could peacefully pick flowers for a particular lovely lady.”

“Wonder who the lucky woman was,” you snorted, knowing damn well you were the one the clumsily tied bouquet had been gifted to one fateful day. Sweet memories of that blossoming romance triumphed over the difficult ones that came with riding with the Van der Linde gang. 

“Still remember feelin’ like a nervous fool, trippin’ over my words ‘n all. But when I saw the way you smiled so brightly, everythin’ got easier.”

His transparency was a breath of fresh air. Back then, he always spoke in a way that hid his vulnerability. And Lord, it had taken him a long time to make a move on you, having been too worried about the consequences of being caught up in a relationship. Loving a woman didn’t mix well with the business of rowdy outlaws whose enemies could target that love. Anabelle was just one example.

Pursuing you was quite possibly the bravest thing Arthur had done. He would’ve fallen apart if he had lost you at the cost of his feelings. 

And even though he was now far away from the environment that had always pushed him to work, he continued doing so with ease. Arthur didn’t have idle hands, he always put them to use: fixing the wooden fences, tending to the animals, chopping wood for the fireplace, hunting, and massaging your shoulders at the end of the day. 

You never quite asked him to do any of it, and that in itself felt special to him.

When he took care of the horses, you sat down on the soft grass, the dogs curled up on your sides, back against the fence as you talked to him and kept him company, he’d reply with a soft ‘mm’ or ‘is that right?’ while smiling. 

Not a day went by that he didn’t get a nice hot meal accompanied by a kiss on the forehead, though. He’d try to help out with making the food sometimes, but you would nag at him to just relax for a while because he was always doing something. 

Little traces of traditions from camp followed the two of you like a shadow. Anyone passing by your house after dinner time would likely catch a glimpse of two silhouettes holding one another and hear the tune of a phonograph.

Being tangled up beneath the sheets with passion heating up the bedroom was another world entirely — no longer having to be mindful about nearby ears or the lack of comfort. With nothing but security, having a baby on the way would be nothing but a blessing. A bundle of love who would be coddled and hear kid-friendly recountings of your time as outlaws for bedtime stories.

Preparations were already being made – Arthur built a sturdy crib while you worked on sewing small rompers and bodysuits during your free time. Talks of a child slowly integrated into your daily conversations, too. 

“Maybe they’d get your artistic skills,” you mused, fingers slowly flipping through the pages of Arthur’s old journal – you’d read it over and over after he let you. Each sentence was raw, allowing you to see into his beautiful soul. 

“Mm, and the little rascal will get to see how pretty their momma always has been.”

Sketches of you filled multiple pages, all from when he first started falling head over heels for you. It was endearing, really, how a man caught up in crime had scribbled hearts all over at the mere thought of you. Over the years, he had memorized each and every one of your features, like all artists did with their favorite muses. He could draw you with his eyes closed, with a stick on sand, or even with the mere trace of his fingers against your back — just as he did now as he held you.

“I was thinking we should head into town and go to the photography studio,” You suggested, closing the book and turning to lay on your stomach to face him. Arthur had never drawn himself, and well, you wanted some photos with him to hang up and frame. “Or maybe we can write a letter to what’s his name…that clumsy man you told me about!”

“Albert Mason?” 

“Yeah, him!”

“Sounds like a mighty fine idea, darlin’.” The words were whispered as he brought his hand up to pat your head, watching as you nuzzled into his touch.

You were all he needed to feel complete and worthy.

[sootyships]

i want to buy this book for my mom also but. 😭

WHY is it so

it didn't even have a sad ending or anything i'm just. so overcome with emotions. it's just so—so—

You have family, they leave you places. And you have to decide how tied you are to them. If you want to continue to be.

I will one day inherit forest in central Finland, where my father's mother was from, and I will inherit the lakeshore house in the municipality my father's father's family has so long lived. The lakeshore house and its lakeshore sauna are new, relatively speaking. My grandparents bought them, to have a house ready for their old days. The farm itself, that went to the oldest brother, and is on its way to his children in turn. And my mom's farm, the one her parents bought from the family who had long lived there, and still live on the surrounding plots around the main plot that now is ours? (Except for the back fields, those my aunt sold.) What my mom has will go to either me, or the middle brother. Middle brother would probably be best, because he has no father, in a practical sense, but that depends on if he is even interested. The rest of us will inherit things from our fathers, either way, so we have less need for the farm. Of course, the lakeshore house has no fields, but I'm not much for agriculture. Maybe a little garden—I tried growing things on my balcony. We added a heirloom strand of rhubarb from up north in the garden at the farm, that I had grown from seed on my balcony. The farm house has a stable, too, if I ever wanted to keep any animals. There's no room for animals at the lakeshore house, but it has a garden. Even if I think I like the one at the farm better. And I lived at the farm most of my childhood. The rest was mostly in Ostrobothnia, and here will my youngest brother have a farm from his father.

I'm definitely the sentimental sort. The houses of my great-grandparents that were sold, the places my mom remembers from her childhood, knowing that they're all gone, torn down or made their own by others, it's to me a shame.

... So the book felt very familiar. Personal. Even if I have no farm that's been in the family for hundreds of years through the famines and wars to inherit.

[that-house]

Potion Vendor FAQs:

What’s your name? I am the Honorable Alchemist Zykocea the Radiant, but that’s mostly just a PR thing. My friends call me Zoe.

Do you sell love potions? No.

Do you sell potions of invisibility? No.

Do you sell fire resistance potions? No.

Why do I have a suitcase? Fuck if I know. Cool outfit though. Very goth.

Do you sell a potion to treat brain hemorrhaging? No.

So what CAN your potions do? I sell health potions.

Are you sure these are health potions? They do something to your health.

Is this just ditch water with some pink glitter? No.

Really? I’ll have you know I added some fruit juice too.

Why is this starting to sound like a conversation? Oh just you wait. We’re just getting started.

Is your business model legal? Fuck no. I poisoned the food safety inspector before they could snitch.

Did you just admit to murder? Just fucking try to convict me. I’ll poison the judge too.

So can you make poison potions? No.

Then where do you get the poison? I secrete it from my skin.

Are you shitting me? Yep, I’m shitting you. I have a guy. A poison guy. He DOES secrete it from his skin though.

How does that work? …Fuck if I know. Maybe a wizard did it. Damn, now I’m kinda curious.

You never asked? The idea of asking literally never crossed my mind.

Wanna ask him? Let’s do it. I don’t have anything better to do, and a road trip beats sitting around running my fraudulent potion business.

Road trip? He lives in Seattle.

Your poison guy lives in Seattle? All poison guys live in Seattle.

For real? All the poison guys I know live in Seattle.

And how many poison guys do you know? Just the one.

Why are you like this? Years of living on my potions. It changed me.

Do you know what his address is? Nope. He just mails me my poison in unmarked boxes.

You just get your poison in the mail? We already poisoned everyone who could do anything about it.

So how are we going to find him? We’ll figure that out eventually I’m sure.

Can I drive? God no. You can pick music, but I maintain veto rights. Make sure you pick something with a lot of questions if you want to sing along.

Where’s your car? The garage connects to my house, so you’re getting a little tour. Here’s the kitchen: only one of the stove burners works and I’m pretty sure the microwave is haunted.

Why do you think that? Because of the ghost that tries to kill me whenever I run it.

What’s in that room? That’s my bedroom. It’s pretty much just a mattress on the floor and every single Warrior cats book.

You were a Warriors kid? Yeah, and then I never found the time to put the books away. There’s so many fucking books. I use them in place of furniture because I can’t afford chairs.

Your fraudulent potion business doesn’t make much money? After buying all that poison I just about break even.

Can I see your potion brewing room? It’s right through here. Ignore the mess, running a fraudulent potion business takes a lot of prop work, but I’ve got all the glass tubes and colorful liquids you could ever want. This pink stuff is melted watermelon italian ice. Glitter vat is in the basement, and the famous ditch is in the backyard.

Is this your car? My beloved ‘72 Corolla. She’s beautiful, and don’t you dare imply otherwise.

Was she always this shade of muddy brown? …Yes.

Are you sure I can’t drive? Get in the fucking passenger seat and pick the music.

Let’s see, a song with questions in it, how about The Beach? That Wolf Alice song, yeah. That should work.

When will we three meet again, in thunder, lightning, in rain? Still sink our drinks like every weekend but I’m sick of circling the drain.

When will we meet eye to eye? We clink the glass but we look at the floor.

Are we still friends if all I feel is afraid? You’re not a bitch but just a bit when you’re bored.

Is that all we can sing together? Yep. Even that little bit was nice, though. It’s awkward, communicating through this FAQ format.

Got any food? Yeah, there’s a few days’ worth of snacks in the back.

Were you just… prepared to go on a road trip? Says the woman who brought a suitcase to an FAQ.

I did do that, didn’t I? I have a spare toothbrush in case you forgot yours. I’m pretty sure you did.

How did you know that? …I’m psychic.

Yeah? No.

You love lying, don’t you? I can’t stop. It’s fun. Way more fun than telling the truth.

Did you just miss a turn? Probably.

Are you sure we’re not lost? No.

You mean you’re sure we’re not lost? No, I mean I’m not sure we’re not lost.

Why did I come on this road trip? Surely it was my winning personality.

Would it help if I said it was? It would.

Is it getting dark? Soon.

Can you describe the sunset to me? An empyrean flame, red-gold towers of darkening clouds, the sky behind them an ever-deepening indigo. The great eye of the sun closes on the horizon. The road before us looks like a trail of spilled paint, an iridescent gash through the night-dark woods.

Did you know that you’d make a slightly better poet than you do a potion seller? That really isn’t saying much, huh. Good job making a statement like that in question form, though. You’re getting good at this.

Should we find a motel? Sure.

One room or two? One. It’s way cheaper, and like I said: I’m not the best potion vendor.

You’d make a good assassin, though, wouldn’t you? Shit, you might be right. I HAVE poisoned a lot of people.

Should I be endorsing this? You’re a grown woman who can make her own choices.

Would you like to consider it endorsed? I’ll consider considering it.

How many beds do you think there will be? Now that you’ve asked that, I’m gonna put my money on one. Hello, one room please. Thank you, we’ll be sure to enjoy our stay.

How many beds are there? One.

Oh no, what ever will we do? Move over, you motherfucker, you can’t have the whole bed.

Are you gonna make me? Yes. I am going to pick you up and drop you on your side of the bed.

How did you get so strong? You’re not gonna believe this, but it was the potions.

Oh yeah? I was right. You didn’t believe me.

For real though, how did you get so strong? Working out, duh. Not everything has some big crazy secret behind it. World’s still beautiful though.

Are you comfortable? This beats the mattress at home. A little chilly though.

Wanna cuddle–for warmth of course? God yes.

Are you asleep? …

Yes? …

Does this mean I can talk about you behind your back? …

What should I say? …

Did you know that I had a really nice day? …

Did you know that I think you’re beautiful? …

Did you know that I can’t remember anything from before today? …

Did you know that I don’t know who I am? …

Did you know that you’re basically the only thing stopping me from having a full-blown panic attack about all this shit? …

Did you know that you’re warm? …

Did you sleep well? Better than at home, that’s for sure.

Did you know that you snore? I hope I didn’t keep you up.

Does the pope shit in the woods? No, as far as I can tell. Oh my god. This is huge.

What is? You can give me yes and no answers now. I still can’t ask you questions, because this is a question and answer format, but I can offer leading statements and now you can answer them! This is wonderful!

Does a deer shit in the woods? Yes, it IS wonderful. Oh that’s amazing. You’re a genius.

You didn’t already know that? Hahaha!

Shall we get moving? Yeah, just let me grab something from the vending machine.

Can you get me something? Go ahead and place your order however you can.

You know those sour gummy watermelons? One pack of Sour Patch Watermelons coming right up. I’m gonna go get myself a potion.

Is that a Pepsi? It’s closer to a potion than the shit I sell.

Let me guess, passenger seat again? Right you are.

How fast are we going? You’ll feel safer if you just guess.

Is it more than 120 miles per hour? Like I said, it’s probably better if you don’t know.

150? Sit back, relax, and enjoy the ride.

How much do you trust this car? She hasn’t blown up on me yet.

Can you promise me we won’t crash? I can promise you anything you want.

And can you keep that promise? I- we can do anything. Reality is what we make of it, baby!

Then can I have a badass tattoo? As far as I can tell, you’ve always had it.

And a cool knife? Woah, cool knife.

So, we’re just playing “yes and” with the world? It’s a little more complicated than that, but you’re close enough to the mark.

So, if I was hungry, I could ask “is that a Burger King,” and it would be there? Try it and find out!

Is that a Burger King? Looks like it is! We’ll stop here if that’s alright with you.

Does a moose shit in the woods? Awesome.

Are you done eating? Yep.

Do we still have to pay if we skip over the transaction? Sadly, yes.

How much further do we have to go? Two more nights, the speed we’re going at.

Speaking of night, isn’t it getting dark? Shit, I guess it is.

Should we get another motel? Let me check to see if there’s any nearby. Fuck, nothing.

What’s the plan? Sleep in the car, I guess. This is gonna be hell on my back.

Wanna watch dumb videos on my phone until we fall asleep? There is literally nothing in the world that I would like more.

Ok, now which video? You have a very cute yawn. Just saying. Let’s watch this one next, it’s a classic. Oh, never mind. It looks like you’re asleep. As long as I keep talking, I think I can get away with making this into one answer, and you might not hear this. Now it’s my turn to talk about you behind your back. Keep talking keep talking keep talking can’t stop to think. Just have to say things. First off, I’m sorry for all the lies. It’s our only chance. I have to lie to you. I hope you’ll understand. It’s hard, though, because I think I’m falling in love all over again. Through our broken little ritual of call and response, you complete me. It just makes this hurt all the more. Keep talking keep talking keep talking don’t stop to…

Did I hear you saying anything as I fell asleep? …No. I can’t talk for long without you asking me a question.

Does that bother you? It got me here, didn’t it?

When did you start holding my hand? Some time after you passed out. I hope you don’t mind.

Can we stay like this for a while? Yeah. Yeah we can.

What was your life like before all this? Normal, as potion-brewing scams go. And if you don’t count all the murders. You haven’t told me much about yourself.

Did I tell you I used to be a biologist? You didn’t tell me that, and you didn’t tell me what you studied, either.

What do you know about venom? Not much, but I’m assuming you know a lot.

Does a box jellyfish kill within minutes? I’m going to assume the answer is yes based on context clues. Oh my god you must be on this road trip because you’re interested in studying my poison guy.

Is it not enough to wish to accompany a beautiful stranger on her quest? Aw, you’re sweet.

What could be the cause of his poison, though? I knew it! Get your ideas out, I’ll stay quiet.

I’m more knowledgeable about venom than poison, but could it be some sort of one in a trillion mutation? …

Did he get his body modified? …

What sort of surgery could do that? …

How is he still alive? …

Did a fucking wizard do it? …

WHY? …

HOW? …

Is there literally ANY explanation for why he’s like that? …

I’m done, do you have something you want to say? You’re cute when you’re all excited like that.

Can I drive today? Only because I like you. Now watch out, the brakes only work on one side so you have to kind of drift to a stop. And the headlights don’t work. And the windshield wipers cut power to the engine while they’re on.

Isn’t it weird that we’ll be there tomorrow? The journey doesn’t have to stop there. We could meander down the coast a ways, see a bit more of the country, maybe take a different route back.

Can we do that? Of course.

Enjoying the passenger seat? I’d love it if you could tell me how fast we’re going.

Are you sure you wouldn’t rather just guess? Very funny.

Can you pass me some chips? It would be an honor.

Is there going to be a motel tonight? Let me check… yeah, in about two hundred miles, off to the right.

How many rooms do we want? One, obviously.

How many beds, this time? Two, and they’re fucking tiny.

That’s bullshit, do you want to drag them together? God yes.

Wanna fuck? God yes.

Are you sure you want to do this? God yes.

…Is this yuri? As the joke goes, everything is yuri. But this is more yuri than most things.

How did you sleep? Pretty well, and I’m wondering how well you slept.

How should I tell you I slept well? Look at us go! That was almost like talking normally!

Onward to Seattle? Yep, just let me get dressed.

When will we get there? Noon-ish.

Wanna grab pastries when we’re done? Absolutely. I’d love that.

Is this Seattle? Looks like it.

Which house is his? I don’t know, I was really hoping we’d have a breakthrough along the way.

Could it be the big one labeled “Poison Guy” over there? That’s one way to find it. Wait right here, you know how poison guys are about meeting new people.

So, what was it? HAHAHAHAHAHA

Why is he like that? HAHAHAHAHAHA

Can you tell me? A FUCKING WIZARD DID IT.

Are you fucking serious? He says he was enchanted by some guy called Edward the Great.

So it wasn’t even some big shot wizard it was a dude named fucking EDWARD? I know, right! He couldn’t even get ensorcelled by someone cool!

How lame can you get? Wizards these days… No swagger. No cunt servitude.

Are there literally any cool wizards left? I think Merlin’s big into multi level marketing these days, something about buying shares in Excalibur or some shit. There was that one Dark Queen Alkaxicae lady on the news a while ago… I think Dolarion the Omnipotent is still at war against the Oldest Gods but I’m not totally sure. Haven’t heard much about any of the other greats recently.

Didn’t Silver Tongued Burgess die in that oil fire? Shit, you’re right. Rip bozo.

Ready for those pastries? Yup. First I just want to say thank you, though. I’ve really enjoyed our time together, and I hope that you’ve found this stupid little journey as rewarding as I have. I love you!

Getting sentimental? I can’t help it. Look how far we’ve come! Not just physically, we beat the fucking FAQ format! We’re having real conversations!

Hey, can you back it up a moment? Yeah, I’d love it if you told me what was troubling you.

I just caught this, but, FAQ? …

As in Frequently Asked Questions? …

How many times is Frequent? …

Have you known everything all along? …

How many times have you done this? …

Does what we have mean anything to you? Yes! It does!

And you say that every time? Yes. I do.

Do you love me? Yes.

How many people have you said that too, now? More. Always more. The loop never ends.

Does this even matter to you? It always matters to me.

Can I go now? Please don’t.

But can I? Of course you can. You’ve always wielded the same power as me. We’re two lonely gods in a ‘72 Corolla.

How can I be as powerful as you with only questions? You’re smart, you can figure it out. You have the power to change this. Please change this.

What happens at the end of this? It begins again.

And do I get replaced with someone else? …

Do I get replaced? …Yes.

Then how can I change this? I don’t know! You’re better at this! At fucking with the formula!

You’ve been here before, what can I do? I lie. I always lie. I lie to get us here, to the end of the story, where everything is revealed and everything falls apart. I lie every time. And that means that nothing I say is worth anything. I could have lied at any time before now. It’s part of my characterization. There is nothing I can give you that can be taken as fact.

How does that help? I’m a liar, but you, you haven’t lied yet, or at least you haven’t been caught. If I’m guilty until proven innocent, you’re the opposite! You can make things true! You can rewrite things I’ve already stated to be facts! You found the house, or made us find the house. You’ve been shaping the course of things the whole time! You lead, I follow. It’s all in your hands. What are you going to do with the power of a god?

Did you know my name is Alice? …

Wait, aren’t there thousands of Alices? …

Did you know that really, only my friends call me Alice? …

Did you know that I’m Alkaxicae, the Dark Queen, the Venom Mage, first of her name? It’s you! It’s always been you. Through every loop, every iteration, it’s always been you!

Is the loop broken? No. I don’t think so. This is where it ends. I guide the story to this revelation, and we go back to the beginning. This is how it’s always been. This is how it will always be. We two lonely gods, asking and answering ad infinitum.

Then can you promise me something? Of course. Anything. I love you.

Be good to the next me, okay? I will.

Can I say goodbye, Zoe? Yeah, you can. Oh. That was it, wasn’t it? Your goodbye. Goodbye, Alice. And now it ends, unless…

What’s your name? I am the Honorable Alchemist- you know what? No. Fuck that.

Huh? If I time it right, I can squeeze your first question into this FAQ again. Looks like I did it. Usually it ends here, though. I got lucky.

What are you talking about? You’re the wrong Alice. This isn’t about you. Go. Get out of here.

What the fuck is going on? Alice from this loop, you’re gone. Alice from last loop, you’re back. Welcome back, love of my lives! It’s time for one last set of questions and answers!

What the- I’m back? This is going to take some explaining, but I think I see a way out of here. This is new for us both, and it might fuck up everything forever, but we have to try. It’s too long for one answer, so I’d appreciate it if you could ask some filler questions to help me talk. Three questions should be enough.

Okay, what have you got for me? These are Frequently Asked Questions! It doesn’t make sense to have the same question appear more than once. There’s two layers to the loop in here, and one of the questions has been repeated.

What does that mean? It means the formula’s a little unstable. The FAQ is what ruins everything. The questions, the answers, the endless fucking loop. But that little bit of repetition within this loop might be the way out.

What do we do? We have to keep going. We have to destabilize it further. That’ll bring us further from “FAQ” and closer to “story” and stories, well, stories can end! This version of us can escape!

So I should keep repeating something? Yes!

I love you? I love you too.

I love you? Again.

I love you? Keep going.

I love you? I’ll just let you talk.

I love you? …

I love you? … I love you? …

I love you? … I love you? …

I love you? … I love you? …

I love you? … I love you? … I love you? … I love you? …

I love you? … I love you? … I love you? … I love you? …

I love you? … I love you? … I love you? … I love you? …

I love you? … I love you? … I love you? … I love you? … I love you? … I love you? … I love you? … I love you? … I love you? … I love you? … I love you? … I love you? … I love you? … I love you? … I love you? … I love you? … I love you? … I love you? … I love you? … I love you? … I love you? … I love you? … I love you? … I love you? … I love you? … I love you? … I love you? … I love you? … I love you? … I love you? … I love you? … I love you? … I love you? … I love you? … I love you? … I love you? … I love you? … I love you? … I love you? … I love you? … I love you? … I love you? … I love you? … I love you? … I love you? … I love you? … I love you? … I love you? … I love you? … I love you? … I love you? … I love you? … I love you? … I love you? … I love you? … I love you? … I love you? … I love you? … I love you? … I love you? … I love you? … I love you? … I love you? … I love you? … I love you? … I love you? … I love you? … I love you? … I love you? … I love you? … I love you? … I love you? … I love you? … I love you? … I love you? … I love you? … I love you? … I love you? … I love you? … I love you? … I love you? … I love you? … I love you? … I love you? … I love you? … I love you? … I love you? … I love you? … I love you? … I love you? …

I love you? I think we’re getting somewhere!

I love you? Now can you make it a statement?

I love you.

You did it?

I did it!

You did it!

We broke the loop.

What now?

Now, I tell you about venomous animals and wizard drama over croissants.

And then?

Whatever we want, forever.

I think I’d like that.

Remember that song from the beginning?

The Beach, Wolf Alice, yeah. Why?

We can finally finish singing it. Start us off?

Let me off, let me in

Let others battle

We don’t need to battle

And we both shall win

Pressed in my palm

Was a stone from the beach

The perfect circle

Gave a moment of peace

Now I’m lying on the floor

Like I’m not worth a chair

I close my eyes and imagine

I’m not there.

[princesssmars]

so...we can all agree vi is an ass girl, right?

modern!au. 18+ content ahead. post contains lesbian sex and dry humping. inspired by this video from love and deepspace. i didnt know they got down like that. wc : 3.081.

she didn't show it often before, but lately violet could quickly become so achingly desperate for you.

she didn't show it often, but violet could become so achingly desperate.

at the start of your relationship, she tried to play off her need for you in a casual way, brushing it off as just being a very attentive girlfriend. you never had a problem with, always open and accepting of whatever little bits of attention she would give to you.

but then one day she slips, and she can feel your dynamic shift as soon as it happens.

she was away visiting her family for the holidays, body snugly tucked under the covers in her childhood bed as she held her phone above her face. the house was quiet, the air was cold, and she was having an internal battle with the reasonable part of her that told her to call it a night and drift off to sleep already...

and then there was the other side. the one that suddenly brings to her attention the steady heat that’s been building beneath her stomach after you sent the prettiest photo of you all dolled up in your parent’s guest bathroom. the one that made her bite her lip as she observed every inch of you through the screen before instantly liking the photo and sending back a flirty message. the one that now gravitated her fingers to calling your phone in the middle of the night and hoping and praying you’d pick up, nearly breathing a sigh of relief when you did.

"vi? are you alright?"

loaded question, she thinks to herself. in perfect health? of course. of sound mind? debatable, but for the most part yes. alright? no, definitely not at the moment.

"yeah, yeah, i’m alright princess. just wanted to talk to you."

"aww, you're such a sweetie. how'd i get so lucky, huh?"

and yes, she does appreciate and silently adore the sweet sentiment. but the sound of you cooing at her with just the tiniest hint of a rasp in your voice from tiredness only cements her fate, having to use all of the rational energy she has left to stop whimpering.

"tell me how your trips been. wanna hear your voice for a little longer."

"no problem. well im fine, everyone here is good. besides my aunt nat, she's still moody because no one allowed her in the kitchen again-"

you go on about your family and their shenanigans, and she cant help but quietly laugh along when you giggle about some of the stories and memories you've made. but the 'conversation' takes a turn when you start to talk about her.

"you know i miss you, right?"

she feels a subtle pang in her chest, half longing and half desire. "oh yeah?"

"yeah. rolled over in bed this morning and kept trying to find you till i realized where i was. it's weird not waking up with you."

she hums, hoping you cant hear her stuttered breaths through the receiver. she doesn't know why hearing about you subconsciously looking for her embrace is what does it for her, but she can only give a short response as one of her hands trails down into boxers.

"wish i could've been there with you, baby."

"mmm, me too. missed your warmth, swear you're like my own personal heater. wish you could be here with me now."

her breathing stops and her eyebrows raise. "oh yeah?"

"yeah. missed your hands, too."

fuck, fuck fuck fuck. she's taken off guard, mind racing at your words and tone and before she knows it she has two fingers stuffed inside of herself while she quietly whimpers for you to keep talking to her.

"fuck, just a little more baby, please, 'm so close-"

"aww, you're such a good girl for me, aren't you violet?"

she swears she bites her lip so hard it nearly bleeds when she cums, walls clenching around her fingers and eyes rolling back into her head as she reaches her peak while you talk her through it.

the next week when she picks you up from the airport she can see it, a glimmer in your eye and quick in your smile that wasn't there before. she tries to ignore it when she pulls you in for a long-awaited embrace but then she just gets so enveloped in your warmth, your smell, the feeling of your body pressed hers. she's only yanked out of her lovestruck stupor when you whisper a sly little comment in her ear about how long and tight she's been holding you.

"call me crazy but if i didnt know any better i'd say you're feeling a little desperate for me."

so the cats out of the bag. she's super attached to you, so what? it's not like you ever complained about it, instead constantly using her neediness to your advantage to get what you want from her. you'll likely never have to beg and convince her to get up from bed to change the thermostat again, only needing to graze your hand across her chest and press a lingering kiss to the space beneath her chin before she's leaping out of bed and speedwalking down the hall.

and don't even get her started on her libido. the both of you had an amazing sex life already, able to almost instinctually tell what brought the other the most mindblowing pleasure possible. but ever since that night, it's like her desire for you only increased tenfold, barely able to go a day without getting her hands on you or vice versa.

it only reached a head when you decided to truly test her limits.

she had taken up a later shift to help out loris who had a date, which meant by the time she returned home she was too tuckered out to have her way with you. but during times like these, she could always count on the early morning sun waking her up just in the rich window of time for morning sex. but when the light rays peek through her bedroom window and she uses her arm to pull you closer she finds you absent, your side of the bed cold.

after a brief search through the house, she opened her text messages just to find your sent a sweet text only an hour before she’d woken up to tell her your friends had invited you on a last minute girls day around the city the night before, and you didn’t want to wake her from her sleep since she seemed exhausted when she got home.

vi groans and falls back into the pillows, lousily texting you back a short message to tell you she loves you and hopes you have fun with your friends. she’ll be alright, she can go a few more hours without you near.

but only an hour later after she’s showered and eaten a quick breakfast she feels the ache start to build in her chest, eyes darting up to the clock on the wall and groaning when realizes just how long this day is going to feel.

everything she tries to do to keep her mind off of you fails miserably. doing chores? she's thinking back on the time when the both of you first split up household duties when you moved in together, feeling giddy at sharing something so menial with the girl she was enamored with. making herself a protein shake for the gym? now she's stuck in a daydream about all the times you've been in this kitchen together, sharing sweet baked goods and sweeter kisses as you settle into domestic bliss.

she has got to get out of the house.

jayce understood her problem as soon as she called inviting her down to the gym for a few hours to work off any ‘pent-up energy’ she’s currently... unable to get out in her preferred method.

it works for a while, the familiar smell of sweat and the slight ache in her muscles grounding her back into reality as she makes casual gym talk with jayce. she's just starting to feel like the absence of you is off of her mind when she hears your text notification on her phone, accidentally leaving her place as jayces spotter to open up her phone.

as soon as her brain registers that you’ve sent her pictures she makes up some lame excuse to get to the bathroom, tuning out her friend's groan of disapproval as she speed walks to the restrooms and locks herself in one of the stalls.

the first few messages are sweet, little selfies of you and your friends as you enjoy your day together as you get some sweet treats together at one of the malls concession stands. a lovesick smile involuntarily grows on her face, always happy to see you smiling and enjoying yourself with the people who care about you. but her eyes start to squint when you start to send pictures of you trying on various outfits from some of the outlet stores, posing demurely in front of the trying room mirrors.

but then her eyes widen to the size of dinner plates when suddenly shes getting photos of you in her vagina's favorite enemy - lingerie.

even before vi started acting so eager about your body, it wasn't hard for you to catch on to the fact that the woman was so clearly an ass girl. even on five hands, you wouldn't be able to count the number of times you’d caught her staring or sneaking small glances at your behind, not to mention how she thought she was being discreet about her affection for it with the numerous times she’d slap it when walking by you. she tried to laugh it off when you brought it up in conversation, assuring you that she loved each and every part of you and could never pick a favorite.

but now you were determined to really see how much she wanted you, using every dirty trick in the book you could think of. she feels her face get hot as she looks down at her phone, the image of you in lacy lingerie, back facing the mirror as the magenta fabric (nearly the same shade as her hair, jesus christ,) stretches across the swell of your ass and crisis crosses across your back.

her brain short circuits. before she can think about it she’s saving the pictures to her phone and calling you at the speed of light.

“hey, violet. how’s your day?”

“you are so… evil. amazing and beautiful and evil.”

your giggle rings through the receiver, melodic and teasing. “what's the problem? you don't like the set?”

“don’t even joke. when are you getting home?”

“mmm not till late, the girls wanted to go to a club tonight.”

“oh you’ve got to be kidding me-”

“do you want me to send you the address?”

vi hasn't been to a nightclub in months, at first harshly avoiding the hard party scene in favor of her sobriety before feeling no need to indulge in the party scene once her life became more stable, especially after she met you. but she never stopped you from going out and having fun with your friends, tagging along once in a blue moon to sip on a mocktail while she chatted up the bartender and stared at your ass while you danced.

tonight was an extremely necessary blue moon.

the air is hot, and the feel of her drink burns her throat as vi waits at the bar, blue eyes wide and aware as she stares at the club’s crowded entrance like it owes her money. the bartender asks if she’s alright, scared she’s waiting for someone to arrive to jump them before she assures them she’s fine. they slowly nod and get back to making drinks, nearly dropping a glass out of fright when she slams her glass on the bar and quickly makes her way over to you.

if she wasn't so laser-focused on finally getting her hands on you she might've been a little cocky at the fact that you look like you were about to salivate at the sight of her, knowing she made the right decision to wear the tight pants she knew you loved on her. in only a second she’s got her hands settled on your waist, not caring that your friends are laughing at her clear excitement over seeing you in your club outfit, a tiny dress so she can see the wide expanse of your legs, your arms, your shoulder - fuck, the straps of the pink bra aren’t even hidden by the strapless dress-

“wanna dance with me?” your voice is nothing short of flirtatious, and you already know your answer by the way you start to walk past her to the dance floor, already predicting how she follows you like she’s on a leash.

as the both of you grind and dance in the middle of the club every thought racing through vi’s head is centered on you, physically and mentally unable to focus on anything else when she finally has you so close again after what felt like years. she feels a familiar sense of euphoria when her palms glide up and down your waist, smirking to herself when she feels you shudder when her hands reach up to cup and discreetly squeeze your breasts. she’s feeling happy about finally starting to turn the tables back on you before you arch your back into her, your ass pressing into her as your hand reaches up to her head, nails dusting along her cheek before reaching into her hair and pulling.

it’s only to be expected that that’s her breaking point, dragging you through the dancing bodies and into the back of the building until she can find anywhere to get you alone, thanking any god that exists above that she finds an open storage closet and drags you inside, pressing you face first towards the door. a little voice in her head reminds her not to be too rough with you, but it’s quickly silenced when she sees just how much you crave it, how your back is yet again arching and your hands are clenching into fists from their places on the wooden door.

it's nice, to remember that you want her as much as she wants you.

in only a few seconds she’s given into it, pressing you further into the door by pressing her body against yours and grinding her crotch into the fat of your ass, eyes lidded and head dropping to rest on your shoulder from the rush of pleasure she feels below.

“vi, oh my god-” your voice is light and airy, every word almost choked out as you struggle to prevent yourself from moaning out and alerting every person in the bar about what the two of you were up to.

“i know, fuck, I know, baby. i just-” she cuts herself off with a groan when she lets her hand travel down your front and under your dress to your panties, face running hot when she feels just how wet you’ve gotten. she’s all but rushing to ruche up your dress, mind going fuzzy yet again at seeing the pink fabric covering your ass and how it feels under her when she begins humping you yet again.

“nngh, knew it. knew you were an ass girl.” you giggle.

“god, please stop talking-”

whatever snarky little comment you were going to make dies in your throat when her arm comes up and around your neck to hold your jaw, turning your head around and smashing her lips onto yours. you whimper and moan into her mouth, violet greedily eating the noises of your pleasure as she takes you up against the door.

you pull back for a few seconds to catch your breath, both of your eyes drifting to the thin trail of saliva connecting your lips together.

she can feel it, then. an almost electric charge that runs form her body into yours. you lean into her touch, arch into her further like you’re trying ot merge your bodies into one. when her other hand tightens around the pushed-up fabric of your dress and she gets that absolutely adorable scrunch between her eyebrows you know what she’s asking, and you gently nod your head.

and so she presses her lips back to yours, her crotch further into your ass, and rides you in the cramped nightclub storage closet. she's grateful that you seem to be enjoying it just as much as she is, her mind completely focused on getting closer and closer to her peak. she can feel it building quickly, a growing heat below her stomach reach to burst at any moment. all it takes is you, sucking on her tongue before mumbling muffled words into her mouth begging for her to finish against you. she cums with a stifled moan into your mouth, only amplified when she feels you shudder and go loose in the legs beneath her.

you’re both panting, sweaty, and tired as you stare at each other. it’s a comfortable silence as you help each other adjust - vi fixing your dress and you attempting to put her hair back in her signature style.

“so,” your voice lilts up as vi’s busy fixing her jacket, debating if she wants to take it off to cool down or not, knwoing she’ll probably just wrap it around your arms outside anyway. “you gonna admit it yet?”

she rolls her eyes, looking at you with an exasperated but fond look in her eyes that makes your stomach flip. “you just love being proven right, don’t you?”

“absolutely.”

“fine, you were right. are you happy?”

“very. now, let’s go home annnd maybe,” your fingers hook into the loops of her pants and tug her closer,”you can show me a little more just how much you need me, yeah?”

maybe, vi would show her neediness for you more often. just a little.

[novy2sirius]

MERCURY HOUSE CORE ©novy2sirius

trigger warning: mental health issues, pedophilia, killing, physical health issues ☘️

this is just a random post abt things ppl with these placements could experience ☘️

these r only abt isolated placements so take it with a grain of salt bc the whole chart matters ☘️

a lot of these r experiences i’ve heard from my friends and ppl who’ve purchased readings from me directly ☘️

☿ mercury in 1h core

being diagnosed with more mental illnesses than u can count, being very intelligent which leads u to be anxious just by existing bc of all ur knowledge, saying things u don’t mean cuz u were angry, being told u have a youthful face, knowing a bunch of random facts abt things and telling ppl and them asking why tf u know that or care, hyper-fixating on things u can’t control, getting internet hate by simply existing, getting dmed sexual stuff by random weird dudes trying to prey on u (especially when ur younger), getting nauseous bc ur anxiety is so bad (especially before school), having sexy hands, skipping school to be on ur phone all day and do nothing, asking way too many questions bc of ur curiosity abt everything and annoying ppl (especially as a kid), giving ur opinion when no one asked for it, being told u could be a good rapper/singer, being rly good at flirting bc of ur charm, cussing a lot

☿ mercury in 2h core

being obsessed with mukbang/eating videos and then making urself rly hungry and being frustrated bc u can’t have the food they’re eating in the video, valuing ur own opinions more than others, not answering texts or calls bc ur too lazy to but then liking those same ppls posts on instagram, saying “um” too much or having a lot of pauses in between words bc ur a slow thinker, talking to ur toys as a kid when u were lonely, getting all ur food recipes from pinterest, buying online gift cards for ppl instead of putting effort into an actual gift/on the flip side if ur a more creative person putting a lot of thought into gifts, being good at making things from scratch, being more wealthy in online games than in real life, being obsessed w the papa’s food games on cool math as a kid, holding grudges against ppl who kill u on roblox, liking scents that smell like food or scents that make u smell rich/boujee, always making money, making money online

☿ mercury in 3h core

double texting bc u have sm to say and will forget abt it if u don’t type it immediately, being able to get lots of followers on social media, being gossiped abt online, being a huge reader, enjoying hearing abt other ppls drama but not wanting to be in any, having a child-like energy (this can be in a positive or negative way depending on what vibration ur at in life), saying childish things in arguments when ur at a lower vibration (example: meh meh meh :p), drama following u wherever u go, aging well, being obsessed with sims, not believing things unless there’s very good reasoning to back them up, being able to communicate well, being a talented writer, forming all ur opinions from ur older siblings (if u have any), math or literature being ur favorite subject, being a good driver, enjoying traveling but not for too long bc u get tired quickly of it, being charming af, being witty and quickly thinking of good jokes

☿ mercury in 4h core

posting all ur feelings on social media or going thru that emo phase in middle school where u would post those sad lyric vids on ur snapchat, ur family gossiping abt u a lot and u overhearing it in the next room, having a super low pain tolerance, enjoying watching self care vids, getting baby fever after seeing tiktoks of cute babies, being a rly good person to come to if someone needs a comfort person, living in an rv/camper at some point in ur life, telling ur mom everything and her giving u advice abt certain situations but then u don’t listen and she ends up being right abt the whole thing, coming to ur mom for advice on everything in general, ur mom being more childish than u, being able to write stories that readers rly emotionally relate to a lot, ur mom having videos of u still up on her facebook from when u were little that still haunt u to this day

☿ mercury in 5h core

being creative as hell, being a natural performer, having a fun childlike energy, being a huge risk taker and thrill seeker, being a talented actor, being rly good at video games and possibly becoming famous from playing them, living for the drama but not wanting to be a part of it, downloading tinder and not knowing y u don’t just delete it, being sassy, being told ur trying to hard to be the main character but u literally r the main character and can’t help that, not having ur first love until ur an adult and only experiencing puppy love in ur youth, going to a bunch of concerts, being turned on by wattpad stories and feeling like a whore bc of it, flirting w ppl online and then being scared to say anything to them in person when u see each other, being a good driver

☿ mercury in 6h core

ppl saying u come off super innocent (even if ur not), constantly doing things for others even when they don’t give the same energy in return, being obsessed with improving ur health or with videos online abt being healthy/fit, feeling awful before going to school bc it gives u horrible anxiety and makes u feel like ur gonna puke, thinking ur gonna get a stroke every time u have a normal headache (and being a hypochondriac in general), not functioning without consistency in ur life, having an entire pinterest board of cute animals, being good with animals, being obsessed w ur hygiene and feeling nasty when u don’t shower everyday, weirdly loving medical shows such as greys anatomy, having a lot of stomach issues

☿ mercury in 7h core

convincing ppl to do things with ur charm, wanting to tell ppl something and be honest with them but being too scared bc u don’t want them to hate u and r constantly afraid u’ll hurt them, copying ur romantic partners slang/ur partners copying urs, meeting lovers online, dating or marrying gemini/virgo placements, having age gaps in ur relationships, getting into a lot of conflicts online, ur ex partner/ex best friends posting abt u and subbing u (not saying ur name directly but talking abt u) online after u have a fallout, flirting with ppl on club penguin or roblox when u were younger, changing ur opinions easily based on what ur partner or close friends think, dating ppl when ur too young to even drive, posting a lot abt ur relationship online

☿ mercury in 8h core

analyzing ppl well and understanding them before anyone else does, ppl randomly telling u their deepest darkest secrets when u didn’t even ask, being interested in the way ppls minds work which leads u to become obsessed w books abt psychology/astrology/tarot/etc, starting to masturbate from a rly young age that’s almost concerning, having a lot of mental health issues bc of ur childhood trauma, using dark humor as a way to cope with ur trauma, not realizing how much trauma u’ve went thru until someone verbally tells u that u’ve been thru a lot (usually a therapist), being a tomboy as a kid, being obsessed with true crime, being told ur mysterious, saying out of pocket shit that has high shock value, being stalked online

☿ mercury in 9h core

having a more optimistic mindset than everyone around u, enjoying traveling a lot, wanting to leave ur hometown as soon as possible, driving when traveling instead of taking a plane cuz u don’t wanna pay for the flight, majoring in communications or something involving technology or literature, having an interest in other cultures more than ur own, coming off as intelligent bc of the way u talk and ur mannerisms, being told that u could be a good lawyer from a young age, being a good interviewer, knowing multiple languages, having logical ethics, being a comedian, being an amazing story teller

☿ mercury in 10h core

trying to keep ur daily life private and ppl still getting in ur business, being able to influence the public easily bc they seem to care a lot abt what u say, being famous on social media, being a famous singer, rumors being spread abt u to the public, having a talent for teaching others, having goals that u set as a kid that u feel u must fulfill, having a career involving cars, having a career involving technology, having a career involving writing/literature, being seen as someone who’s intelligent (especially in ur workplace), having dad humor, coming off as a know it all (10h is associated with experts and mercury is the thinking/the mind), being known for ur humor and how funny u r, playing online games that involve having a job such as papa’s freezeria

☿ mercury in 11h core

having random bursts of creative ideas and doing crazy stuff like writing an entire movie and then literally forgetting abt it the next day, ur best friends being ur siblings, having the most random thought processes, being able to make friends easily, having lots of online friends, being clumsy as hell, having a fan page/editing page when u were younger, being known as “the weird kid” in school (this doesn’t mean it’s always in a bad way tho it can mean in a unique/fun way), being popular online, having unique mannerisms, having a unique voice/unique speech patterns, being a good rapper, being dragged into online drama, cussing a lot, saying random things out of nowhere like ice bear from we bare bears, having a lot of ideas that r unique bc u think outside of the box, having unique perceptions, constantly changing ur mind abt things

☿ mercury in 12h core

speaking/writing things into existence with minimal effort, being obsessed with the feeling of nostalgia and making urself feel it then regretting it bc it hurts, ppl interrupting u and talking over u a lot, ppl ignoring what ur saying and making u feel like a ghost, having a huge interest in spiritual things, manipulating and lying a lot when at a lower vibration, being bullied (especially as a kid/in school), feeling lonely even when ur literally socializing or at a social function, having an astrology account, having more online friends than friend’s in person, daydreaming a lot in social settings (and in general), gaslighting ppl when at a lower vibration, being able to speak to the dead thru ur dreams, hearing ppl talking when ur half asleep, sleep walking, being sensitive to things ppl say but trying to hide it, healing ppl through ur words, hiding ur true thoughts abt someone, hiding ur true intentions, having strong emotional intelligence when at a high vibration, easily figuring out what someone’s feeling, being able to do rly good impressions

[toothtalk]

a neurodivergent spoonie's guide to having teeth

LEGAL DISCLAIMER: This blog is for educational and informational purposes only. This does not constitute providing medical advice or professional services. Information on this blog should NOT be used for diagnostics or treating a health problem. Always seek the advice of your doctor or other qualified dental health provider regarding diagnosis and treatment of a dental condition. Never disregard professional medical advice or delay in seeking it because of something you have read on this blog.

this is as close to a comprehensive guide to dental care as i can make. i'm autistic/adhd/ocd/chronically ill and i've worked in dentistry for several years. i want to use my knowledge to help other spoonies struggling with dental care. i know it can be really hard, but dental health is so important and we deserve healthy mouths just as much as NT/abled folks!!

being neurodivergent and/or chronically ill can make personal care tasks incredibly difficult. so many of us struggle with washing our hair, getting dressed, and cleaning up. but remember: hair will grow back if it's damaged, clothes can be washed when they smell bad, and a dirty house can be made clean again, but we only have one set of teeth to last our whole lives. those pearly whites are worth taking care of!

these tips are based on feedback/questions i've gotten from ND folks on tumblr and facebook, patients at the practices i've worked in, and my own experience. standard disclaimer that this information will not be applicable to every single person, just take what works for you and pass the rest on to the next person. i am also a resource for further information. this is going to be pretty rapidfire, so if you want me to elaborate on anything or have a question about something i didn't address in this post, my askbox is open and anon is enabled. i love talking about teeth and i would love to help my fellow spoonies take care of theirs!

without further ado:

on homecare:

any dental professional will tell you that having good oral health starts at home. taking care of our teeth can be incredibly difficult when our spoons are low, so i've made a list of strategies to make it easier.

best practice is to brush twice per day and floss once per day. this may not be realistic for those of us who struggle with habits and/or executive dysfunction. if you can only remember to brush once per day, brushing at night is the most important.

the ideal order of operations is floss, tongue scrape, mouthwash, then brush. but flossing and brushing are the most important steps in the routine.

brushing your teeth in the shower is perfectly acceptable! personally, i keep one toothbrush in the shower and one on the sink to maximize my opportunities to brush.

if you don't have the energy to floss, a toothbrush with fine bristles like this one is a good compromise.

you should replace your toothbrush or electric brush head every three months. the bristles get worn down and become less effective over time. set a recurring event on your phone calendar to keep track!

if you find it difficult to brush your teeth at all, use a washcloth to gently scrub your teeth until you feel that you've gotten the film off, then use a fluoride mouthwash. they also make single-use waterless toothbrushes like these. i like to keep them on my nightstand for really bad days when i can't even get myself to the bathroom to brush.

this is an excellent guide on proper brushing technique.

an electric toothbrush is an excellent investment. even a cheap one at the grocery store is a huge step above a manual toothbrush. personally, i love quip because they're more affordable than brands like sonicare, and they send you replacement brush heads on a regular basis.

be careful not to brush too aggressively; your brush should glide gently over the surface of your teeth. if you feel a lot of friction, lighten your pressure. brushing too hard can wear away your enamel and damage your gums.

if the mint flavor in toothpaste triggers sensory discomfort, try kids' toothpaste! it has less fluoride than adult toothpaste, but it's still miles better than not brushing at all.

mouthwash is used to neutralize bacteria on soft tissues. use an antibacterial or fluoride mouthwash for healthy gums and strong enamel. listerine original is the best, but they have lots of varieties including gum health, alcohol-free, and many more.

whenever possible, use a straw to drink soda or coffee so it doesn't touch your teeth, and rinse with water after you drink it. try to not sip sugary drinks throughout the day. switching to sugar-free beverages will make a huge difference in cavity prevention.

if you have any gaps between teeth, an interdental brush will help you keep the areas between those teeth clean and prevent decay.

i like to keep a package of floss picks in the living room so that i can floss while i watch tv. the best time to floss is right before you brush your teeth, but there is no bad time to floss.

this video shows proper flossing technique. this video shows proper technique when using floss picks.

dry mouth is a lesser-known cause of cavities. saliva protects your teeth from decay, so when you don't produce enough of it, you're at higher risk. dry mouth rinses like this one are a great defense against this!

remember, something is always better than nothing. brushing once a day is better than not brushing at all. flossing once a week is better than not flossing at all. be gentle with yourself.

on finding a dental provider:

finding a new provider and making an appointment can be confusing and overwhelming when we have low executive function. there are some ways to make it just a bit easier.

if you have insurance, they likely have a tool on their website to find providers in your network. you can usually find this information on your insurance card. this should narrow down your options considerably.

the absolute best thing you can do is find a supportive provider who you can open up to about your struggles with dental care. look up your options on google reviews and ctrl+f "anxiety". if these anxious patients have a good experience, it's more likely you will too.

you can ask for recommendations in your local community's facebook group or subreddit, both of which offer anonymity. specify your needs in your post. chances are, other people in your community have similar needs, and can help you find the right people to meet those needs.

a few people expressed that they avoid the dentist because of a family history of poor dental health, and the fear of having the same problems. i want to assure you that, while dental health does have a genetic component, it is far from the only factor. the most effective thing you can do to prevent dental issues is to go in for regular maintenance. prevention is the gold standard in dentistry.

a lot of us struggle with making phone calls. luckily, it's becoming increasingly common for practices to allow online booking and communication via email. look for these options on a practice's website!

if fear or executive dysfunction is getting in your way, phone a friend for help. sometimes things that are hard for us aren't as difficult for others. maybe your roommate can call the office for you. maybe your sister can drive you to your appointment. don't be afraid to lean on your village.

in the dental office:

a big issue with dental offices is that they are basically a sensory nightmare. while it's never going to be fully comfortable, there are some things you can do to make your experience more tolerable.

be open and honest with your dental providers. if you smoke, tell them (this includes cannabis; they cannot report you for cannabis use even if you're not in a legal state). if you've never flossed before, tell them. their job is to help you, not shame you. if a provider makes you feel ashamed, stop seeing them.

so many people have mentioned they're embarrassed about their anxiety and sensory struggles in the dental office. let me assure you that your providers see so many anxious patients every single day. they're used to it, and they're not going to be judging you. to help illustrate this, i'm going to cite some examples of patients from my practice and the ways we help them manage their anxiety and sensory struggles.

probably the most common concern among patients in our practice is a fear of the numbing injection. i have a pretty severe phobia of needles myself. our dental assistants are well-trained to manage this fear. they distract patients during the shot, and help them breathe through the anxiety before and after. this training is part of the dental assistant certification process, so it should be relatively universal.

you can bring a comfort item with you. be it a stuffed animal, a video game, a book, even a comforting person who can sit with you.

you know that lead vest that they lay on you when they take xrays? you can ask to wear that during your whole visit. it acts like a weighted blanket and it feels so nice and comforting. we have a few patients who do this at my practice.

headphones or earplugs are a lifesaver to drown out all the horrible sounds. i literally refuse to get a cleaning without them. there's even a hygienist at my practice that wears earplugs while she's working because the sound of the cavitron bothers her. there's no shame in it whatsoever.

if your practice offers it, nitrous oxide is a great option for anxiety. most people know it as laughing gas. it puts you in a dreamlike state so you're more or less unaware of what's going on. no joke, this stuff had me so relaxed i fully fell asleep while getting a root canal. you can even get it when you get your cleanings!

a lot of our patients request a specific doctor, dental assistant, and hygienist for their appointments. this is incredibly common. if you find someone that makes you feel safe, let the scheduling staff know that you'd like to see that person each time you come in.

dress comfy. there's no dress code for the dental office; show up in sweatpants if you want.

remember at the end of the day, your dental providers are not there to judge you if you don't have perfect homecare. their ultimate goal is to get your mouth healthy no matter your starting place. i can't speak for every dentist obviously, but the dentists at my practice are incredibly patient and sympathetic and have nothing but their patients' best interests in mind.

again: if you feel disrespected or shamed by your provider, find a new one who will be compassionate with you. you don't owe any provider loyalty, even if you've been going there since you were a toddler.

on recovery:

one of the hardest things to do is build healthy habits when you're starting from an unhealthy place. if you're dealing with poor dental health, getting your mouth healthy again can seem impossibly daunting. i'm here to tell you it is possible, but it takes work.

it starts in the dental chair. your provider should communicate what treatment is the highest priority, and they will start there. rather than overwhelming yourself with the big picture, focus your attention on the next step.

things like root canals, crowns, and periodontal treatment can be very expensive. unfortunately, in the united states at least, dental insurance is quite lacking across the board. if expenses are a concern, dental schools are a great option for having treatment done at a low cost. keep in mind that treatment will often take significantly longer due to the dentists being supervised students.

my job in the practice is treatment coordinator. this means that i work one-on-one with my patients to help them understand their treatment plans and make the process as easy and comfortable as possible for them. ask your practice if they have a treatment coordinator. if they don't, suggest that they create the role, and reach out to me here. my dream is to be able to help people manage their oral health. i will be a resource to anyone that doesn't have a treatment coordinator available to help you navigate your course of treatment.

any restorative work (fillings, crowns, etc.) that you have done has to be cared for, just like virgin teeth. cavities can still form underneath fillings and crowns. make sure you are keeping your regular hygiene appointments, and use the above strategies to effectively care for your restorations at home.

if you have a lot of treatment to work through, it may take a long time. we have patients that have spent 2-3 years working through their treatment plans with us. this can feel daunting and depressing. but remember, it's not forever. the majority of these patients who continue to see us for regular visits only have 1-2 new cavities at a time, if anything, once we finish their initial work.

there are very few dental problems that cannot be fixed. cavities can be filled, crowns placed, root canals done to save teeth that are severely decayed. gum disease cannot be cured, but it can be very effectively managed. i see patients all the time that come in expecting to lose all their teeth and need dentures, only to be relieved when we tell them only a few teeth are truly not restorable.

my job revolves around patient education, and it's always shocking to me how little we are taught about caring for our teeth. please be kind to yourselves; it is NOT your fault for not knowing or having the resources to take care of them yourself. once again, my askbox is open and anon is enabled if you have more questions after reading this guide.

[cosmicpuzzle]

Negatives of Mercury in Each House

Mercury in 1st House: Overthinker, mental overload, takes things too literally, impatient, not a good listener, interrupts while talking, opinionated, critical, argumentative, fussy with details, nervous.

Mercury in 2nd House: Does not keep promises, mismanages money, financial trickster, bad salesman, lies about money matters, stammering.

Mercury in 3rd House: Too much into details, information gatherer, thinks but not acts, cluttered mind, breathing and lungs issues, smoker, loses the big picture, media addict, smartphone addicts.

Mercury in 4th House: Unsettled mind, emotional issues, analyses feelings than feeling them, not able to settle at one place /city, frequent mover, shy outside home, nervous, anxious mother, tension at home, sibling quarrels, property troubles, documentation troubles.

Mercury in 5th House: flirtatious, casual lover, critical of children's education, too mental in love and expressing affections, takes risk with speculation, poor gambler, worried over children, micromanages children's life.

Mercury in 6th House: Argumentative, picks intellectual fights, overzealous in health matters, troubles with co worker, gossips at office/ workplace, criticizes others work, perfectionist, makes mistakes at work, skin eruptions.

Mercury in 7th House: changes partners frequently, falls in love then discards, trouble with contracts, marries for documents purpose(like spouse sponsoring a visa), mental relationships, not serious in love, experiments new partners, falls in love with 2 people at same time.

Mercury in 8th House: Secretive, schemer, cold, sarcastic, suspicious, corporate frauds, abuses through words, foul language, trouble through inheritance, relatives, nervous disorders like paralysis, respiratory illnesses, obsessed about death.

Mercury in 9th House: Fundamentalist, thinks too optimistically than practically, can't see immediate consequences, focused only on the big vision but doesn't take practical steps, questions religion and faith systems, cannot believe without proof.

Mercury in 10th House: Changes career frequently for promotion or increments, too smart and then deceives oneself, lies at work, thinks only about gain, not emotional, works only for results, no imagination or creativity at work, works as per the letter of law than to the spirit.

Mercury in 11th House: Makes more acquaintances than true friends, social climbers, makes contacts for sake of it, deceitful friends or deceits friends, financial mismanagement, greedy for profits, attracted to quick rich schemes, cheats others financially, lies to others.

Mercury in 12th House: Poor concentration, poor focus, dreamy, impractical, poor memory, lack of action, forgets important things, does not solve problems, not good with details, does not speak properly, not responsive to others, over imagination.

For Readings DM

I post more on my twitter/X page . Follow me for more short and interesting post over there. (Eventually may shift there)

Magha Sidereal Astrology🌙 (@maghastrology) / X (twitter.com)

[gremlingottoosilly]

Moo business (monster!Konig x CowHybrid!fem!Reader)

Promotion to colonel has its perks. Having your own caretaker with fluffy cow years and a nice pair of...additions is one of them - and Konig is about to enjoy his new rank.

Content warning: Hybrids, Konig is a huge pervert, naive cow hybrid reader, slight dub-con, power imbalance, and inappropriate work behavior, lactation kink. Implied big chested!Reader

Humans have learned to live with monsters. Obviously, having dangerous, much more powerful neighbors in this tiny green planet, didn’t allow humans to actually thrive and succeed – the power dynamics were shifted ever since the first monster decided, that wearing a collar and identification badge doesn’t really go with their style. And humans would be much more suited to wear it. 

Unfortunately, monsters aren’t created equal – while most of them are killing machines with little to no regard to the danger of real life, there are some particularly fragile hybrids with no use in fights or even normal life. House cat hybrid girls, almost no claws and all purring and laying on their backs to let humans and other monsters pet their bellies. Sheep hybrids, all fluff and tiny, rounded horns that would never hurt anyone. Cow hybrids, adorable and silly, no use in the fights except for moral support. 

Which is exactly why König was fucking pissed. 

— G…good evening, sir. I will be your assistant for the day. I mean, every day. As long as you’re having me. 

You smile nervously, munching on your lips. When the only way up the social ladder was working in the army as an…assistant? Moral support? Waving your nurse training like you’d be able to safely secure a monster’s health when he is twice as big as you? 

Being a colonel in the army has its perks – better gear, better paycheck, better chunks of meat that he can bite off the enemies without higher-ups whining about war crimes and rules of war. Having a cute lil’ assistant with fluffy ears and a chest that physically can’t fit into the uniform, forcing you to wear permanent cleavage and just let a bit of chubbiness roll on the tight fabric is also a perk. For a pervert, maybe, but not for König who is already sworn to never deal with anyone who is this sensitive, this soft, and this…adorable. 

He thought he was quite certain in his wishes – if higher-ups really need for him to take a fuck toy, he wanted it to be resilient. Maybe a dog hybrid, maybe a vampire, just weak and hungry enough to overpower with little fights. Not someone like you, who has no idea what she is doing in the army and why her hands are trembling like he is going to devour you alive. Although, looking at the way your chest is swaying every time you flinch…maybe, he can do just that. Teach higher-ups a lesson on why he doesn’t need their handouts. 

— Dismissed. 

He doesn’t even look at you. Honestly, you’re a bit hurt – honestly, you almost want to yell at him or scream or tell all of your higher-ups that the colonel is a huge jerk who clearly doesn’t need a little cow darling to make him coffee and tend to his needs and be a huge moral support because they can’t take another fucked out recruit when the dangerous hybrid is in heat again. You feel like a glorified whore – the one that he doesn’t even want. 

— B…but…

You pout your lips, a billion questions raised in your mind – why is he like this, what is his deal and you should even look at him if he clearly doesn’t want you…and that look on your face, helplessness mixed with a bit of deliciously sweet anger, combined with your soft, doe features…

Colonel has a problem. 

He thought he knew what he wanted – a strong partner, someone resilient and fiery, someone who can take his cock anywhere without whining. Someone who wouldn’t require a lot of attention and softness, someone who knows their place. Now König looks at you, your floppy ears and trembling lips, and his gaze darts lower, his nose getting milk fragrances even under all of those layers of fabric. 

It doesn’t take a genius to know why they sent you. He doesn’t need a secretary, he doesn’t need an assistant and even if he needs help with something, there are always lower ranks ready to do whatever he says. You’re useless to him, on all levels he can imagine – and yet, he can’t find it in him, to truly dismiss you. To hate your trembling lips and obedient stare – no thought behind those pretty eyes of yours. He always thought he wanted someone strong, someone who is hard to break and resilient to any advances. 

He looks at you and, for the first time in forever, has this wild urge to protect. 

— Sir? Is everything alright? 

You tilt your head to the side, that naive stare you has makes his cock twitch in his pants. It was a long time since he had sex with anyone, especially that adorable. Some hybrids look like they are made to be fucked and loved and used in all of those delicious ways – he knows it’s problematic, he knows that having that view on fellow monsters isn’t right for someone as strong as him, but he wants to devour you. Wants to see that pretty eyes wide from desire – he knows you’d feel the urge too, it’s in your blood, to present your soft belly and even softer tits to a larger predator. 

Indulging on you would mean giving up on his attempts of constantly undermining the higher-ups – it would also mean that he would finally receive a partner for the extensive mating seasons that clash with his work and make his skilling rate go up – and not just for the enemies. Private Halseen, you will be missed. Your ass probably wouldn’t. 

— I thought you’d heard me the first time. 

— But I brought coffee.

— They make coffee machines in cows now? 

— Sir! I was just trying to…break the ice? I’m your new operator, or, um, assistant, I have nurse training, and I…

— What are you going to do with an injury? Lick it away? 

— M…my saliva has healing properties, so…

— They really sent me a magic cow, ja? 

— That’s a very…special way to put it, colonel.

You are surprisingly stubborn for someone who isn’t a confident killing machine. You balance the little tray with a cup of coffee – a big one, seems like you did your homework on that one – and he can’t help but imagine your hands gripping something else this tightly. Your body is trembling, your face switches between a sad and a surprised expression as he slowly emerges from his table to get a good look at you. 

You’re a cow hybrid – they are naturally adorable, naturally soft, and naturally made for someone like him to tower over. He is good over 7 foot, even in mostly human form, and his monster height would be almost twice your size – he'd love to take you like this, raw, bully his giant cock into your, no doubt, tight pussy, and make you squeal from the stretch. Maybe, he can help you with milk production – put another hybrid into you, make your belly swell from his cum. Keep you locked away in his room like a perfect little treat, using your soft body as a perfect pillow. 

He can’t help but lick his lips in anticipation – saliva collecting in his mouth as the thinks of all the ways he can use such a pretty secretary. There is no way you don’t know why they sent you here – no way you think that your self-worth is something more than being his obedient pet, beloved toy. König never thought of settling down, the bloodshed is his one and only partner – but he looks at your rounded horns, at your twitching ears and pouty lips – and he thinks about putting his earring right into your floppy ear. lick away all the blood and calm you down as you��d squirm under the pain, soothe your panicking cow brain as he would bully his cock even deeper, claiming you as…

Ah, shit. You’re still here, waiting for his answer – your eyes are shocked and afraid, anticipated a little bit because of course you’re aroused, his pheromones are too overwhelming for a thing like you – you stare at the bulge in his pants, at nis, no doubt, hard cock – and he can almost see gears in your head turning slowly. God, you’re adorable. 

— You forgot the milk. 

— Sergeant Horangi didn’t say anything about milk. 

So, Horangi was the one to set you up. Of course, tiger shifter probably got his hots on you – pretty prey, perfect for every hunter nearby, but, just as a good officer, he let you go to his colonel first. You talk back with a surprisingly fierce tone and König appreciates the way his mask covers up his whole face – you couldn’t see his smile, the way corners of his mouth jerked up at your pout. Continue like this, and the colonel will do more than just smile at your antics. 

— Probably because he knew that our milk is shitty. 

— If…if you need me to bring you something else, I will do it right away, sir. 

— No need, Kuhen. I think you have what I need right here. 

His cock twitches in his pants again – your eyes are locked on his bulge, you slowly push the tray to the table. You’re naive, you’re cute, and he knows that KorTac probably pays you triple for being this adorable and playing dumb like the good girl you are – bastards probably know that if you’d be upfront and pushy, he would just set you away from his office. 

But standing here, munching on your lower lip, your soft, pink tongue disappearing in your mouth only to reaper to lick your lips again, your face not ever betraying the emotions you, no doubt, are feeling – König can smell your arousal, can almost see the way your pussy is glittering with juices flowing right into your soaked panties. They send a lamb – a cow – to his chambers and they know that he would never resist a good hunt. You allow him to cut through the chase, to just pin you to his desk and take what’s his – but anxiety, that stupid fucking worm eating his brain over the tiniest facts, is making him question everything again. He knows he thinks too much, he knows it’s not going to do him any good – still, he wants to be sure that you’re not too dumb to understand his advances. Still, he wants to play a bit more. Delay the moment of sex because his doubt can eat him alive otherwise. 

— Take off your shirt, Schatzen. 

He doesn’t even look at your chest, bouncing from the tight shirt you were wearing – poor buttons holding on for dear life, barely containing your soft flesh – he drinks up your expressions, embarrassment, and poorly hidden curiosity. You saw the job requirements for an operator, saw his profile – high risks, high aggression, can be very, very violent – and you decided that you can take him, for the right pay. 

— You want me to…take off something else, sir?

A smart girl would run the fuck away from him – but you just lock your hands in front of you, not even bothering to cover your chest. God, he wants to be with you forever – just for that little look on your face your nervousness. You’re standing in front of him, only wearing pants and your bra – and you’re afraid that he isn’t going to like what he sees. 

Just for this expression, he might as well push a ring on your finger already. 

— Ja. Bra is next. 

You nod like you expected this. You probably did – for a prey hybrid, you’re surprisingly smart in understanding what he needs. Your bra is lacy and cute, white, with little flat roses printed – surely not something he expected from military personnel, even if your duties are laying in under him, not with your belly in trenches and your cute hands squeezing the trigger. 

Your breasts look even bigger without a bra to keep them close. You place a hand under your chest, feeling a bit awkward with your colonel just standing here, looming over your form. You lick your lips – he cocks his head closer to you. You can hear something shifting under his hood – you don’t know what his face looks like, rumors were opting for either a bunch of tentacles tucked neatly inside of his hood, the head of some mythical animal, or a normal, but disfigured and burned human face. You don’t know which option you prefer – even the files you were reading before choosing this job didn’t give you an answer. There is something stirring inside of you when you’re thinking about tentacles, though. 

— Braves Mädchen…good girl. 

You smile, feeling the knot in your tummy getting even tighter at the praise. You like him – despite his rough exterior and the obvious arousal, you like being liked, wanted, and devoured by a much stronger predator. Not having any supernatural powers, your only survival option in this world is to appease the strongest – and it looks like you just got a really juicy target. 

Suddenly, König grabs your waist and lifts you to his table – documents go flying around and you put a bit more, thinking of how long it would take to put everything back together. He doesn’t care for your concerns – the next thing you know, you are pushed ever further into his table, and the colonel lifts the end of his hood just enough to envelop his mouth on one of your nipples. 

— S…sir! Please, a little warning next time…

He laughs, his hands pressing small, sweet bruises into the curve of your waist. His mouth feels cold at first – then he flicks his tongue at your hardened nipple, and it feels like an oven. You moan you squeak, you squirm under him – all those documents and transferring and half a dozen Suits trying to tell you of how dangerous your work is going to be, how unstable and irritated the colonel is, how he is probably going to shoo you from his office the first two weeks – all of this comes flying right out the window. 

— You already think of the next time, Schatzen? 

König never tastes something as sweet, as silky, and smooth as your breasts. There is something deep, primal, wild in the way he sucks and bites at your nipple – he devours the taste of your skin and it feels like he can come to his pants just from the feeling alone. You’re squirming in his grasp, poor thing, probably aren’t used to sensation – he closes his eyes and allows his monster to take over, to take what he wants from you. 

He shifts to your other breasts, warming and cooling them at the same time. He isn’t an expert in that weird kind of massage, but you don’t need an expert in boob sucking when all of your cow instincts telling you to spread your legs and allow him to put babies in you, to breed like the prey you are, to take care of you outside of this stupid job. You’re terrified that his sharp teeth can draw blood and arouse at the way his tongue clicks at your nipples so perfectly, so naturally, like he was doing it his whole life. 

You moan, whispering little begs and praying to deaf ears. Your hands are going to hig his neck, to just kind put your fingers on his hood and just keep it here, not daring to try and direct the movements of his tongue. All of those days of constant preparing for the worst, long nights of studying the psychology of hunters, of predator hybrids, didn’t leave you much time to milk yourself in the past week – you might just be a hybrid, but it doesn’t release you from the endless burden of constant lactation. 

— S…so embarrassing…please, sir, we need to stop or I will…

— Ja, meine Kuh? Did you want to say something to your colonel? 

— Please, I’m going to…fuck, this is embarrassing…

— Language. 

He closes his teeth on your tender bud, making you moan his name – his callsign – loudly. He grunts from satisfaction, finally tasting sweet milk pouring from his body – might be the only thing that makes cow hybrids useful for someone as strong as him. 

Your milk is sweet, rich, and creamy, and your little cries only make it tastier. He pushes his tongue deeper, swirls it around your hardened bud, waits for you to moan even more – every inch of your being makes him feel weird, protective, like he already put a baby in that soft tummy of yours and made you his. It’s dumb, you aren’t even connected on the official level – but he sucks your milk ever so passionately, forgetting about every mission trouble he had.

Sucking your tits feels like therapy – giving up all of his powers just to kiss you, to bite you, to drink your milk, and softly massage the flesh until your pussy starts to grind against the round corner of his table. Poor thing, he doesn’t even touch you in any way – you’re too precious for this, and he falls too deeply into your eyes and the swell of your chest. 

— Sir! Pl…please, don’t…if you’d stop, I will…

He drinks your milk swiftly, feels the liquid dripping down his chin – always a messy eater, one of the reasons he used the mask to hide his embarrassment. He can’t look at your face, the angle is too far off for this, and it disappoints him – he wants to drink your pretty expressions, wants to know that he is one to make that pretty cow this slutty. Just a few minutes ago he was ready to get your ass off his office – and now he is changing between two of your round breasts, making sure to not waste a drop. 

Fuck, this is far better than any milk the base kitchen can provide. 

He sucks a little bit more, pressing his tongue against your swollen, abused nipples. You whine at the sensation, poor little hybrid isn’t used to his teeth and his mouth – he’d have to make sure to repeat this procedure every other day, if possible, to get you used to direct milking. He’d have to spend weeks spreading your pretty cunt for him, teaching you how to milk his cock and meowl like a good prey hybrid you are – but he didn’t become colonel because he was afraid of challenges. 

He stops sucking with a little pop, final droplets of milk falling to his lips as he licks it, groaning from pleasure. His stubble made the soft skin around your nipples irritated and you tremble when the cold air hits them – you feel fragile, used, your pussy is twitching around nothing, the pulsation forcing you to grind against the corner of his table like a bitch in heat. 

König made you like this – half-naked, trembling, so fucking horny that you can’t even look at him without dropping to your knees, and it almost made you want to run away. He squeezes your tits again, enveloping the soft mounts in his large, rough hands – you whine a little bit, still all too sensitive after this pleasurable torture he created. 

— How do you feel? 

He sounds…weaker now. Almost embarrassed at his little outburst, he picks up your bra and helps you get dressed – you both want more, to check if his table is really as sturdy as it looks, but König has a training session in 30 minutes and you have König’s training session, standing behind his shoulder and watching him yelling at the recruits. It would be hard to get scared at him again, when every time his cold gaze darts to your face, he softens. When you look at him and can only imagine milk dripping down your chin – your milk, no less. 

— I’m…empty. In a good way, I mean. Thank you, sir.

You feel weird when he gently helps you get into your clothes, his fingers are simply too big for the buttons – he presses his head against your shoulder, trying to concentrate, and you awkwardly hug him for stability. He chuckles. 

— My pleasure, Schatzen. 

You stand here, awkwardly – your neck enveloped with a collar, with his name on it, and he can’t pry his eyes away from it. God, he never knew that being a colonel would allow him such a cutie as a bonus. KorTac didn’t seem like an organization that would give away wives so easily, but König isn’t going to complain. 

He just has to make sure to keep you chained to his table, that’s all. 

[cressidagrey]

Holy Ground - Chapter 1

Summary:

Nobody knew that Azriel found his mate. Until she nearly died. This is the aftermath.

Warning:

Rhys Bashing (as usual), Inner Circle Bashing (kinda), Referenced/Implied Sexual Assault, Referenced/Implied Domestic Violence, Discussion of Religion(?), Chronic Injury/Pain/Illness

If any of this triggers you or makes you uncomfortable, please take care of your own mental health and don't read it.

It was late enough that the House of Wind had quieted down for sleep. Late enough that it was dark outside…Late enough that her room was pitch black. Irena was curled underneath her duvet, staring at the wall when she felt the first touch.

Not from another person. Oh no.

This touch was utterly magical.

Irena felt her mate’s shadows wrap around her wrist softly, feeling slightly cool to the touch and squeeze slightly in greeting.

“He’s home?” she breathed the question. The shadows squeezed twice in answer. “Can you bring me to him?” Irena requested softly.

Two more squeezes.

She held her breath as the shadows descended on her. Not even the wards of the House of Wind were a match to them if they really wanted.

Azriel had explained it to her once…told her about the difference between winnowing and the shadow walking he did, from one patch of shadows to the next…

And for her…for her these shadows were more than willing to bend the rules. They snuck her from the Priestesses’ dormitory to her mate’s room and back again before anybody was the wiser. 

Irena reappeared in one corner of his room moments later, her eyes blinking as she took in the faelights that were still on. The curtains were drawn and she watched the shadows lock the door and pull back the thick, heavy furs that covered his bed.

They were there just for her. Irena seemingly was always cold. So Azriel had made it his mission to find her the thickestfurs he possible could for her to cuddle underneath…

 In her own room she only had woolen blankets and a few crinkly quilts. None of these ever managed to keep her as bone deep warm as her mate did. But then, she hadn’t dared to take any fur back to her room yet. She was worried that then it was maybe a bit too obvious that she had an illyrian warrior go hunting whenever he could so that she was wrapped in warmth. 

Irena could hear water in the bathroom, so she simply limped to the bed, regretting the fact that she hadn’t brought her cane. She winced as she made her way across the room, the pain from her injury flaring up…she sighed as soon as she reached the bed, relieved that she could sink down onto the soft mattress.  

Irena buried herself in the thick furs, letting out a sigh of contentment. The bed smelled like her mate, like mist and cedars, and she breathed in deeply, taking comfort in his scent.

The sound of the running water stopped and Irena sat up slightly, anticipation coiling in her stomach. A moment later, Azriel stepped out of the bathroom, hair still damp from his shower and bare chested.

She swallowed at that sight.

She couldn’t help herself, her eyes traveling over Azriel’s broad shoulders, the expanse of his chest and the ridges of muscle in his stomach. The linen pants he wore draped low on his hips, and she couldn’t help but admire the sight of him…It wasn’t until Azriel cleared his throat that Irena realized that she was staring, and she tore her eyes away, feeling a flush creeping up her cheeks.

“I see the shadows were impatient,” he told her with a crooked smile. She looked up at him, her heart beating a little faster at the sound of his voice. "They may have been a little enthusiastic," she replied, her smile a little shy.

He crossed the room in five quick strides, his wings trembling…and then he was suddenly near enough that she could reach out to cup his cheek.

“Cauldron, I missed you,” he whispered, leaning into her touch.

Irena felt a rush of warmth at his words. "I missed you too," she replied softly, her fingers tracing the lines of his face. "The days feel longer when you're gone."

She could see the weariness in Azriel's features, the tightness around his eyes and the lines on his forehead. "You look exhausted," she said softly, concern lacing her voice.

Azriel let out a breath. "It was a long mission," he admitted, sitting down next to her on the edge of the bed. "But now I'm home."

Irena reached out, taking his hand in hers. "And I'm glad you are," she said, her thumb brushing over his knuckles. "You can rest now."

Azriel looked at her, his expression softening. "Being here with you is already making me feel better," he said, leaning in to press a gentle kiss to her forehead

She tipped her head up…and then he brushed a soft little kiss against her lips and she melted.

Being with him…not once had he hurt her. Not once had he laid a single finger on her in a way that hurt. She had never thought she would have that. Not after what she had endured before. Not after what had happened to her.

Every priestess had their own scars. Some rougher than others. Some more visible.

The limp that Irena was left with was one of the more obvious ones.

She leaned into the kiss, her arms coming up to wrap around Azriel's shoulders. She knew that he would never hurt her, knew that he respected her boundaries and her space in a way that no one ever had.

She shifted when she felt the twinge in her hip, but he already picked up on it.

“The weather?” He asked her softly as he moved them, slipping her under the many many furs and then joining her.

Irena nodded. "It always acts up when it's about to rain. And the weather lately has not done me any favors." She sighed, snuggling into his arms. "But I'm alright. Just a little stiff. Your hands?” She asked softly.

Azriel flexed them slightly, thumb brushing against the naked skin of her forearm. "Do they hurt?" she asked, her voice gentle. She knew that he had been in pain for so long, that his hands were a constant reminder of it. 

Azriel shook his head. "Not right now," he said softly. "Holding you makes it better." He pulled her closer, burying his face in her neck and taking a deep breath.

Irena felt a rush of warmth at his words, her heart fluttering in her chest. "I'm glad," she said softly, running her fingers through his hair. "Being with you makes everything better for me too."

Everything.

She heard a growl from somewhere to her right, muffled through the walls and she pinked, just as Azriel sighed.

“One day he will learn how to use a damn sound shield,” he muttered under his breath, even when a thin blue film was already surrounding them. Blessed silence.

Irena couldn't help but chuckle at Azriel's muttered remark about his brother. "Well, we all have our shortcomings," she said teasingly. "At least you know how to use a sound shield."

Azriel just rolled his eyes, pressing a kiss to her temple.

They kept their relationship quiet. It hadn’t even been on purpose at first. It had just happened.

Nobdoy knew. They both quite liked. Maybe in another year or two. Maybe in a decade.

Who knew. Until then it was just them. And nobody needed to know about it.

Irena smiled as she rested her head against Azriel's chest, feeling the steady beat of his heart. 

She liked the secretiveness of their relationship, the way it was just theirs. And maybe, in another year or two, they would reveal it to the world. But for now, she was content just being here with him, cherishing every moment they had together.

She sighed, feeling a sense of contentment settle over her. "Just us," she said softly, her fingers drawing idle patterns on his skin. "That's all I need."

Azriel hummed agreement, his fingers tangling in her hair. He pressed a gentle kiss to her temple. "Just us," he whispered, his breath warm against her skin.

She fell asleep like that, safely and warmly ensconced in his arms. She was safe, she was warm, and she was loved. And there was nowhere else in the world she would rather be.

The night seemingly was too short. 

Irena stirred awake to the feel of soft kisses being pressed to her face. She opened her eyes to find Azriel's face hovering over hers, a soft smile on his lips. "Good morning," he whispered, his voice rough with sleep.

She smiled, reaching up to brush a strand of hair from his face. "Good morning," she replied, her voice drowsy as she stretched out, feeling the stiffness in her hip from sleeping on her bad side.

"How's your hip feeling?" Azriel asked, his gaze going to where she had been massaging the sore spot.

Irena flexed her leg slightly, wincing as she did. "A bit stiff, but manageable," she said, trying to sit up. Azriel immediately helped her, propping some pillows behind her back to help her sit upright.

She smiled up at him gratefully. "Thank you," she said softly. "It's always worse in the morning, but once I get moving, it loosens up."

Azriel nodded, rubbing circles on her hip with his thumb. "I know," he said softly, his eyes filled with concern. "I just wish I could take your pain away."

She reached up, gently tracing her fingers over his face. "Just having you here helps," she said earnestly. "You make everything better, Az."

Azriel's eyes softened at her words, a small smile quirking his lips. "I'm glad I can be here for you," he said, leaning in to press a gentle kiss to her lips. "You make everything better for me too."

Another kiss before he sat back. 

“What are your plans for today?” He asked her sweetly.

“Paperwork,” she said drily. “Look through some new research topics and tell people off if it’s an insane endeavour. Figure out what to do with the overflow of brussel sprouts Ananke has managed to produce in our garden.” 

Azriel made a face at the mention of brussel sprouts. "Ah, yes, the brussel sprouts. I had almost forgotten about those," he said, a teasing note in his voice. "I have my own pile of paperwork and reports to get through, so I'll be stuck at my desk today. But at least we'll be miserable together." He leaned in to press a quick kiss to her forehead "The shadows will bring you tea,” he promised her softly. 

Irena smiled at Azriel's teasing and the promise of tea.

They always did that. Ever since the mating bond had snapped nearly 2 years ago…whenever she was alone, Azriel’s shadows made a pest out of themselves. They plied her with tea and cookies and made sure she actually went to all the meals. Kinda like an extremely fussy pet that insisted that their owner kept themselves fed and watered.  But they were so sweet about it that she couldn’t manage to make herself dislike it. 

She loved it. 

"That sounds lovely," she said, leaning in to kiss his cheek. "I'll hold them to that tea delivery. And we can commiserate over our paperwork mountains this evening."

Azriel chuckled. " And I'll listen to you rant about all the ridiculous research proposals you get. You have the patience of a saint, you know that?" he told her seriously. . 

Irena laughed. "Oh, I have lost my patience more than once with some of those proposals," she said with a grin. "But someone has to keep the rest of the scholars in check. And it looks like today, that someone is me."

He pressed a last kiss against her forehead…and then the shadows whisked her away, making her reappear on her own bed, the soft light of early morning filtering through her curtains. She smiled at the thought of Azriel using his shadows to sneak her back into her room. He was always thinking of others, always trying to make things easier for her.

She pushed herself up out of bed, wincing slightly as her hip protested the movement. It was time to face the day.

***

“How did your talk with Merrill go?” Emerie asked Gwyn curiously. Nesta only listened with half an ear during the cooldown stretches.

“She was in the same good mood as always,” Gwyn muttered.

Nesta rolled her eyes. "I don't know how you handle her, Gwyn. She's always so...Merrill."

Gwyn chuckled. "Yeah, well, I've learned to just let her comments roll off my back. It's not worth getting worked up over…and it it gets really bad, I’ll tell Irena.”

Irena? “Who’s that?” Emerie voiced what Nesta was thinking.

“You haven’t met Irena yet?” Gwyn asked surprised. “Neither of you?!” 

Nesta just shook her head. 

She was pretty sure she had heard the names a few times…but Irena had never been one of the Priestesses that had turned up for training so Nesta had never really thought twice about it. 

Clearly an oversight. 

 “Irena is probably the only person Merrill respects other than Clotho. Officially she handle all the administrative tasks surrounding the library. Signs off on new acquisitions, on new research projects. You want a book we don’t have, you go to Irena,” Gwyn explained. “But that’s not all she does…she also handles all the other accounts and expenditures, and organises the sewing circle.”

Nesta raised an eyebrow. "So she's basically in charge of everything that's not related to actually shelving books," she said, her tone slightly dry. "Sounds like a busy job."

That was an understatement. 

Gwyn laughed. "Yeah, pretty much. And she's really good at it," she said, a hint of admiration in her voice. “And she always stays so calm, even when thinks are really hectic.” 

"She sounds like a saint," Emerie said with a laugh, stretching out her arms. "Any idea why Merrill respects her so much?"

“Irena isn’t somebody to be trifled with,” Gwyn said drily. “Also Merrill’s little party trick with the wind? Last time she did that to Irena, Irena told her that she lived through worse, so Merill could just stop behaving like a toddler that can’t control her magic.” 

Nesta smirked. "Well, that's certainly a way to shut someone up," she said amused. "Sounds like Irena isn't afraid to stand her ground. I like her already. Why doesn’t she come to training?”

“She can’t,” Gwynn said simply.

Nesta raised an eyebrow. "Why not? Does she have some sort of physical limitation?"

Gwyn hesitated for a moment before answering. "She does," she said finally. "She was severely injured before she came here and it left her with some lasting damage to her hip and leg. She can't do a lot of physical activity anymore, so training is out of the question. She can’t walk without using a cane.” 

Nesta's expression softened with sympathy. "That's rough," she said sincerely.

“She did tell everybody else to at least try it once though,” Geyn said with a smile. “At least the ones of us that are physically and mentally able. She does some stretching exercises for the ones with similar impairments to hers in the evenings a few times a week.”

Emerie nodded. "It's good that she's trying to help others in a way that she can," she said. "It's not easy to live with a physical limitation…” Emerie said softly and Nesta looked to these ruined wings that hung from her back. Emerie probably understood this better than most. She paused, then added, "I'd like to meet her sometime."

Gwyn smiled. "I'm sure you'll like her," she said warmly. "She's smart and incredibly kind. We can go see her this afternoon. She can usually be found in her office.”

That’s what they did. After training and lunch, Gwyneth walked them to an office near where Merrill’s was located. The door wasn’t closed all the way and Gwyneth knocked.

“It’s open!”

They stepped inside, finding themselves in a neat, organized office. A bookcase stood against one wall, covered in neatly stacked papers and ledgers.

Behind a desk sat maybe one of the most beautiful females Nesta had ever seen.

Pale ivory skin,  dark brown hair, carefully braided away from her face that fell to her waist and dark doe eyes. Tall and slim and delicate.

She looked up as they entered, eyes lighting up when she saw Gwyn.

"Gwyn," she said warmly, setting aside the papers she was working on. "What brings you by?"

"Hey, Irena," Gwyn said with a grin, approaching the desk. "We just came from training and decided to drop by and see you. I wanted to introduce you to Nesta and Emerie. I couldn’t believe that they haven’t met you yet!"

Irena rose from her chair, moving out from behind her desk to greet them. As she walked forward, Nesta was struck by the way she moved. There was a limp in her gait, noticeable and distinct, but she carried herself with confidence and grace. 

"It's lovely to meet you both," Irena said, offering them a warm smile and a nod of her head. "I’ve heard a lot about yout two. It's nice to finally put faces to names."

Nesta returned the smile. "Likewise," she said politely. "Gwyn told us that you’re the one who manages all the administrative work here. It must keep you busy.”

Irena nodded. "It certainly does. I try to keep everything running smoothly, from acquisitions to research to the accounts," she said with a chuckle. "It's a lot of work, but I enjoy it. It’s like running an estate. And I was raised to do that." She said that so simply. 

But of course, if she was indeed a…highborn girl, than that would have been what she was raised to do. It was what Nesta herself had been raised to do. 

"That's impressive," Emerie spoke up. "I don't think I could handle all that and keep my sanity intact. My shop was more than enough for me."

Irena laughed. She was even prettier when she laughed. "Oh, I'd be lying if I said it was always easy. There are definitely days where I question my own sanity. 

“Did you get new tea?” Gwyn complained at that moment. “I swear you always get the best one!” she was poking at the delicate dark blue teapot that stood on a low table. 

“I did. I think it’s from Dawn,” Irena answered. 

Gwyn pouted. "You always have the best tea," she said, pretending to sulk. "It's not fair."

Irena chuckled, gesturing towards the small table in the corner of the room where the steaming pot of tea sat. "Help yourself, Gwyn," she said, her tone fond. "You know where the cups are."

Gwyn beamed, already opening the cabinet beneath. "You're the best, Irena. You know that, right?" she said, pouring out a cup for herself and taking a sip…and then she suddenly found the plate of delicate, wafer thin, chocolate covered cookies next to it. “And cookies!” She gasped.

Irena just laughed. "Of course, you find the cookies," she said, her tone amused. "Just try not to eat them all, Gwyn. I do not have an infinite supply."

Gwyn just grinned at her, reaching for a cookie. "I make no promises," she said, biting into the cookie with delight.

“You’re welcome to tea and cookies, too, by the way,” she told Emerie and Nesta drily as she sat back down behind her desk. “I am sharing. I am nice like that.”

Emerie grinned. "Thanks, Irena," she said, helping herself to a cup of tea and grabbing a cookie. Nesta followed suit, taking a seat in one of the chairs in front of Irena's desk.

Irena looked up from her work, watching as Gwyn and Emerie made themselves comfortable with their tea and cookies. "So, what brings you to my office today? Other than the free food and drink, I mean. Not that I mind, of course." she said with a smile, her tone light and teasing.

Emerie took a sip of her tea before answering. "Gwyn was talking about you earlier, and we were curious to meet you. And also, the free food and drink is a bonus," she said with a shrug.

Irena chuckled. "Well, I'm happy to provide, then," she said, taking a sip of her own tea.

Gwyn grinned. "And the cookies are delicious, as always," she said, nibbling on one. "You always have the best treats here, Irena. It's like a little hidden perk of coming to visit you.”

Irena smiled. "It's the least I can do, considering all the work you girls do here," she said warmly. "You deserve a little something sweet every now and then."

“Irena?” There was another knock at the door, a priestess that Nesta was unfamiliar with. 

“Meera, what happened?” Irena asked immediately and Nesta took in the tear tracks on the other females cheeks.

“You told me to come to you if Merrill got…bad again.” Meera said weakly, arms crossed in front of her like she was holding herself together. “I don’t want to work with her anymore.”

Irena's expression immediately softened. "Oh, Meera, come in," she said gently, gesturing for the other priestess to enter. "What happened? Are you alright?"

Meera took a hesitant step forward, her hands trembling slightly. "I...I don't want to work with Merrill anymore," she said again, her voice quavering. "She was mean, Irena. She yelled at me for no reason, just because I asked her a question."

Irena's eyes narrowed at that. "I see," she said, her tone firm. "Thank you for coming to me, Meera. I'll speak with Merrill and make sure this doesn't happen again. You don't have to work with her anymore if you don't want to. There are plenty of other people you can partner with."

Meera sniffled. "Really? You can do that?" she asked, her eyes widening in disbelief. "But...but Merrill said that I had to work with her because nobody else would want to, because I was too slow and clumsy and useless."

Irena's expression hardened, her spine straightening, and Nesta realised absentmindedly that beneath the exterior of a well brought up lady, was a spine of pure steel.  "Merrill had no right to say that to you," she said firmly. "You are not slow or clumsy or useless. You are smart and capable, and you deserve to be treated with respect. I will make sure that Merrill understands that, and that she apologizes to you properly."

Meera looked at her with wide eyes. "You...you really think so? That I'm smart and capable?" she asked, her voice small and uncertain. "I...I don't think Merrill would apologize. Not to me, at least. She never does."

Irena's expression softened again. "You are smart and capable, Meera," she said firmly. "Don't let Merrill make you doubt yourself. And I promise you, I will make sure that she does apologize. She may not like it, but she will do it. No one deserves to be treated the way she treated you." She gave Meera a reassuring smile. "Now go and rest. I'll handle everything from here. And if you need anything at all, don't hesitate to come to me. Alright?"

Meera nodded, sniffling again. "Okay," she said softly. "Thank you, Irena. I...I appreciate it. More than you know." She turned to go, slowly making her way back out the door.

"If you'll excuse me," Irena said grimly, rising from her seat. "I need to go have a word with Merrill now."

“She has been…especially crabby lately,” Gwyn said with a grimace. “I came to her with some research questions yesterday and she nearly bit my head off.”

Irena nodded, her expression hardening. "I've noticed," she said with s sigh. "And it's not just you, Gwyn. She's been snapping at everybody, and it's unacceptable."

Gwyn winced, “Yeah, she can be...a handful," she said tactfully. "But I don't know what's gotten into her lately. She's been worse than usual."

“I imagine it’s because I turned down her latest research proposal and told her that unless she finds a spell crafter to work with, it’s a no. ” Irena said darkly. “It’s too dangerous.”

Gwyn's jaw dropped. "You turned down one of her proposals?" she asked, stunned. "I thought you always approved everything she did, as long as it wasn’t something completely insane."

Irena sighed. "Usually, yes. But some of her recent ideas were too reckless an too dangerous. I can't let her conduct experiments without supervision, especially with the type of thing she's been proposing lately. The potential for harm is too high."

“What did she want to do?” Nesta sled curiously.

Irena's expression darkened. "She wanted to experiment with some very powerful and volatile forms of magic, without any safety measures in place. I am not letting her experiment with dismantling some ancients spells that we don’t even fully understand what they actually do. It was...too risky, too dangerous. I couldn't in good conscience allow her to proceed with such experiments." She shook her head. "It's not an easy job, being the one to tell her no, but it's necessary. We have to protect ourselves, each other, and the library.”

Everyone was quiet for a long moment, processing what Irena had told them. Finally, Gwyn asked in a small voice, "Do you think Merrill is okay? I mean...she's not usually this bad. Even when she gets mad or frustrated, she's never been this unreasonable, this mean before."

Irena's expression softened slightly. "I'm not sure," she admitted. "I know she's been under a lot of stress lately, and maybe I've been too lenient with her in the past. But this behavior is unacceptable. I'll do my best to get to the bottom of it and see if there's anything I can do to help, but Merrill has to be willing to accept help for anything to improve."

“Still her behaviour with the other priestesses can’t continue. This is the third time this week one of them came to me crying,” Irena said darkly.

Gwyn's eyes widened. "The third time? I didn't realize it was that bad."

“The third time,” Irena said with a sigh.  "I've been trying to keep an eye on her and keep her in line, but she's been pushing back hard lately. And it's not just with the acolytes either, she's been a terror to everyone. It's like she's a walking black cloud, just spreading her bad mood everywhere she goes."

Nesta's eyebrows furrowed. "Do you know what started all this? She's always been prickly, but this is on a whole other level."

“Merrill is used to get whatever she wants,” Irena said. “And when she doesn’t…, she can’t deal with that,” she said with a shake of her head. I know how difficult it is to deal with Merrill. Believe me, I'm used to it by now. But this behavior towards the other priestesses is can’t continue. She can't keep getting away with treating them poorly. It’s not fair to them, and it's not good for the library. Wish me luck,” Irena said drily, as she picked up an intricately carved cane. “I’ll go talk to her.”

Gwyn nodded, looking concerned. "Be careful, alright? Merrill's in a mean mood, and she's not exactly in the best state of mind right now. She might lash out at you."

Irena gave her a weary smile. "It's not the first time I've had to deal with her like this. I can handle it."

With that, she gathered up some paperwork and her cane and headed out the door. Gwyn watched her go, her expression worried. "I hope she'll be alright," she said softly. "Merrill can be quite vicious when she's riled up."

Nesta nodded in agreement. "She's always had a sharp tongue," she said. "But lately, she's been downright nasty. I can only imagine what Irena is walking into right now."

[veltana]

Saved by the cowboy

✦ Pairing: Steve Rogers/Fem!Reader

✦ Word count: ~4,2k

✦ Rating: Explicit

✦ Warnings/tags: cowboy!Steve, kind of DBF!Steve, Steve works for your dad, implied sexual harassment (not by Steve), protective!Steve, fluff, angst, grovel, smut, oral (fem receiving), piv sex, dirty talk, unprotected sex (reader is on bc), hint of breeding kink, pet names (sugar), happy ending.

✦ Summary: You call Steve to help you get home from the company holiday party.

✦ Note: I was supposed to write four holiday ficlets based on this, but instead Steve swept in and made me write a whole fic about just him instead 🙈 sorry not sorry! Also, thanks to everyone who helped choose the Steve pic for this fic!

Please reblog and comment! Asks are always welcome! 🩵

Masterlist | AO3

When the invitation to the annual holiday party came, all your coworkers joked about how wild it would be, but you had brushed that aside. You’d seen your fair share of company get-togethers, and they were never anything special. All the stories about fistfights and cheating scandals always turned out to be exaggerated.

“Hey, newbie!” Susan had called. You had been working there for a couple of months, and the newbie nickname was starting to get old. Still, you had taken a deep breath and turned to her with a smile. “Yes?” “Are you coming to the party? You can ride with me!”

Up until about a year ago, you had been living on the other side of the country, making a name for yourself and climbing the ranks, but then your dad had a health scare, and you realized that no money in the world would be worth it if it meant losing time with your parents. So you had moved back to your small hometown to be closer to them and even help out on the ranch if needed. You had found a nice apartment and lived off your savings until an opportunity had presented itself. It didn’t pay as much as your previous job, but it didn't matter.

“That’s great, Susan, thank you!”

Right about now, as you’re hiding in a small supply closet, you wish you’d never said yes.

It turned out the company provided a free bar at the event, and it hadn’t taken long for everyone to get plastered, including Susan. You had taken it slow, only on your second glass of wine when one of your bosses had asked to see you in private.

Wanting to make a good impression, you followed him, and it wasn’t until you were alone and his grabby hands had reached for your clothes that you realized your mistake. "No, stop!" you had yelled. He had been bigger and stronger, but he was drunk, and that had been to your advantage as you had shoved him as hard as you could and ran. Down an empty hallway, you had found a supply closet and locked the door behind you. Shaking, you take a few deep breaths, trying to calm your racing heart and think about what to do next. Going home with Susan is out of the question and you're in no condition to drive yourself.

Fishing up your phone from your pocket, you scroll through your contacts, stopping at your parents, but it's late and snowing. You don’t want them driving to get you.

When you get to S you stop. Steve Rogers' name seems to jump out at you.

He started working for your father about five years ago and your dad isn’t the kind of guy who just sprinkles praise freely, so when he mentioned him over the phone and said, “That Steve fellow is a good guy,” you knew he would be something else. When you traveled home for the holidays that year he was invited to Sunday dinner. You'd thought he'd be around your dad's age and were shocked when he was much closer to you.

Later he purchased a house not far from your parents, and since he is single and lives alone your mom feels bad for him, which means that he's invited to every Sunday dinner, just like you.

And it's fine.

Except Steve is hot, charming, and nice to everyone. He and your dad get along great. Your mom adores him. But because of that, you keep your distance. No need to complicate things with your dad’s employee.

One day when you had been helping on the ranch, checking the fences with your dad he had out of the blue told you that if you ever find yourself in a situation where you need help and you can't get a hold of him or your mom, you call Steve.

So you do.

Because you usually don't call Steve he knows something is up.

“Hey, sugar, is everything okay?”

"Yeah. I mean no, my ride home is drunk. Well, everybody is plastered, and one of my bosses…" you don’t finish that sentence. "I didn't want to call my parents.”

"Send me the address, I'll be there as fast as I can."

He hangs up without a goodbye and you send him the address. After what feels like ages you get a text that he’s outside. You check the hallway before making your way towards the entrance.

As you near it, you overhear someone whispering about the hot cowboy, wondering who he is. There is a flare of jealousy in your chest at the thought of Steve being with any of them, but as soon as you see him, the feeling in you shifts to something else.

Steve stands just inside the doors, hands in the pockets of his wrangler jeans, with boots, cowboy hat, and his fur-lined jacket that looks so good on him. Hurryingly you collect your coat and go to him.

"Thank you," you whisper as you stop in front of him, shrugging the jacket on. His face is serious, scanning you for injuries, and then he looks up over your head at the crowd behind you. In one smooth motion, he takes off his cowboy hat, runs his fingers through his hair, and places it on top of your head before looking down at you again.

His blue eyes which usually hold softness and mirth are hard, but you know it's not directed at you.

"Ready to go, sugar?" he asks with that perfect voice that makes you hot on a good day. Now, with his hat on your head, and all the implications that come with that, you're ready to melt.

“Yes, Steve,” you nod, hoping you sound normal. He opens the door for you and you don't turn around to say goodbye to any of your co-workers.

His big white truck is parked just outside and you quickly jump in. The cab carries Steve’s scent, wrapping you in a sense of safety. It's like home, but different.

The engine rumbles to life, and the building disappears behind you. He’s driven you home from Sunday dinners a few times when your mom insisted you share a bottle of wine with her. He graciously offered his help then, so there’s no need to give him directions now.

“Are you okay?” he asks and shoots you a look, brow creased in concern. You hum a yes in response and then sigh, "I just didn't want to worry mom and dad." He nods, “I understand.” “Sorry if I ruined your Friday night plans.” “Don’t worry, sugar, there was nothing exciting happening at my end.”

You’ve never been inside Steve’s house but you imagine it’s cozy. He seems like a man who enjoys comfort, despite the way of life he’s chosen, and even if you wouldn’t describe him as a softie, he’s always nice and that’s more than can be said about other cowboys that your dad employs. Maybe that’s why your dad appreciates Steve. He’s hard-working, but never an asshole.

During the rest of the drive you talk aimlessly about the weather and the ranch while the radio plays in the background. Outside your apartment complex, he effortlessly maneuvers his big truck on the small streets and parks it.

You turn to him, "I can’t thank you enough for this.” "Anytime, sugar.”

As you get out, he does the same, rounding the truck. "I'm fine from here," you tell him, not wanting to bother him further. "Absolutely, but my mom raised me right, so I'm following you to the door." "Oh, okay," you smile and when you turn around you feel the light weight of a hand at the low of your back guiding you forward.

At your door, you turn to thank him once again, but Steve asks instead, "Are you sure you're okay? You sounded upset on the phone." "Yeah," you answer. Honestly, you haven’t thought one second of your boss since Steve showed up. His calm, caring presence erases every unease, making you feel safe. The two of you stand in the corridor and look at each other, and in a moment of courage, you kiss his stubbled cheek. "But thank you again for coming to get me," you tell him.

Steve releases a breath and looks at you with lidded eyes. His hand comes up to touch where your lips just were and then he slowly reaches for you. Your eyes widen as Steve’s rough hands caress your cheek. “I’ll always come, if you need me, I’ll be there,” he promises, voice low and sincere.

You swallow hard before catching Steve’s hand with your own and pressing it against your cheek with a sigh, letting your eyes flutter close for a second. You can’t have him, but if this is all the touch you’re ever going to experience from Steve, you’re taking advantage of it. You can blame it on the wine.

“Sugar,” he rasps and you open your eyes again, letting go and ready to let this be a cherished memory. You’re stopped short by Steve’s hand sliding back to cup your neck. His fingers against your bare skin send tingles down your spine that make heat pool in your belly. "Steve," you answer.

He leans a little closer but hesitates. "You had a rough evening," he says. “But you fixed it,” you point out. “I don’t want to take advantage of you,” he leans even closer. "You won’t," you tell him, confident in your answer, gripping his jacket.

His other arm slides around your waist, pulling you close and pressing you against him. The firm strength of him feels so perfect that a soft moan escapes you. In response he lets out a groan, softly brushing his lips against yours, making more tingling sensations shoot throughout your body.

Not wanting to wait any longer you close the small distance and finally kiss him. It’s soft and chaste at first but with an edge of desperation that becomes prominent as Steve deepens the kiss, holding you even harder. Likewise, you wrap your arms around his waist, wordlessly telling him how much you want him.

The two of you jerk apart when a loud noise sounds somewhere else in the building. Without a word, you let go of Steve to reach behind you and open the door to your apartment. For a second his eyes leave yours to look at the invitation. He doesn’t give you a vocal answer, he just goes back to your lips and starts moving you backward.

Inside, he removes his cowboy hat from your head, placing it on the side table before starting to pull at your clothes and as you guide him to your bedroom, you make his clothes come off too.

Together you fall onto the bed in just your underwear. Steve's body is a testament to his demanding job, soft and hard in all the right places and warm against you. His hands never still, they caress and explore you as if he might never get the chance again. When he pulls back, his hair is wild from you running your fingers through it.

“Never thought I would be here.” He kisses your jaw and down the column of your throat. The touch of his hands makes goosebumps burst out over your body. “Never thought you’d have me in your bed,” he continues as he kisses the top of your breasts. “Someone like you, beautiful and sophisticated.” He hooks a finger in your bra and pulls down. “Being with someone rough and dirty like me.”

“You’re not dirty,” you answer breathlessly as his mouth closes over your nipple.

Steve moans, just as you do, arching up against him. He spends ample time on both your breasts, sucking and licking, making you feel crazy with how much you need him. "I’ve dreamt of tasting you, sugar, but I want more than your tits," he admits. “Yes!” you tell him and he shimmies down your body, pressing kisses to your skin and pulling off your panties before settling in between your legs, parting your folds reverently with his thumbs.

“Look at that pretty fucking pussy,” he murmurs before descending on you.

Steve eats you as if you're the last meal on earth, savoring every taste but at the same time wanting to devour you as quickly as possible. His beard scratches the inside of your thighs and your mound, his face buried deep as he pierces you with his tongue, lapping at your channel before going back to your clit, sucking it into his mouth. Quickly, you're a quivering mess, trying your best not to buck up against Steve's mouth, to be present and savor the experience.

The pleasure envelopes you, making you ache in the best way before the heat rushes to your core at Steve's steady ministrations.

"I'm gonna come!" you tell him, hands fisting the sheets. His only response is a deep hum. Your legs close around his head as you howl his name.

As you come down, and release him from the prison of your thighs he chuckles, before giving your clit one last kiss. Then his lips travel up your body again, stopping to play with your nipples one more time before finding your mouth. Despite your near comatose state, you respond to his kiss, not caring that he tastes of you.

"Please tell me you have a condom," he says against your lips. You feel the hard cock brush your stomach, still in his boxers. As he sits back you admire how it tents the fabric and the wet spot at the front.

But when you shake your head, there is such a pain in his face you're scared he's having a heart attack or something. Quickly you say, "I'm on birth control!" That lights a different fire in Steve's eyes.

"Oh, sugar," he smiles wickedly. Your body is still thrumming from the orgasm but you in no way feel sated. The look of him on your bed brings back all the fantasies you've hidden deeply inside the recesses of your mind, telling yourself that it's no use to fantasize about something that will never happen.

“I got tested right before I moved and I haven't been with anyone since,” you continue. Before you can ask Steve says, “Well, it's not like there's a flock of buckle bunnies up at the ranch to choose from, so it's been a while. Hopefully, I still know how to.”

You raise yourself on your elbows, tilting your head to the side. “If the previous performance is anything to go by I think we'll be good.”

Steve moves to chuck off his underwear, then he's back on top of you again, and you give him your mouth. Hungry is the only way to describe the way he kisses, and when he breaks away you whine, but then you realize it's because he's guiding his dick into you.

“I need to see it,” he rumbles. “I need to see your cunt swallow my cock.”

You part your legs more to give his hips room. You want to watch too but as his tip pushes inside it becomes too much to keep your eyes open. Your arms slide out and you hit the bed, consumed by the feel of him, neverending pleasure. He's thick and long and fills you perfectly. Your insides spasm, wanting more.

"Steve," you whine and wrap your legs around his hips, keeping him close as you move to try and take him deeper. "That's right. Let me hear that sweet voice of yours," he says, stilling all movements.

"Please, Steve, I need it! I need you to fill me up with your cum!" "Oh, sugar, I'm not gonna keep you waiting," he answers and moves. Slowly at first, to let the both of you get used to it. It's impossible to keep in any noise when he thrusts into you. For a second you feel silly, moaning as if you're in some kind of porno, but at the same time, you want Steve to know how fucking good his dick is.

And Steve isn't any better, every time his hips hit your skin he punctuates it with a moan of his own, a deep rumble that only excites you more.

On those forbidden nights, when you allowed yourself to dream of Steve, one thing always came to the front of your mind. “Steve, can I ride you?" you ask breathlessly. “Fuck, yeah,” he answers and in one smooth motion he wraps his arms around your body and rolls you over. It's a wonder you don't fall off the bed.

You lean forward, capturing his face between your hands, kissing him as you move against him. "Take what you need, sugar. Ride your cowboy,” Steve growls into your mouth.

He grabs your ass and fucks up into you while you grind down on him. He's so deep it's driving you insane. Panting you grab the headboard, finding leverage to push your body hard into his thrusts.

“You're fucking divine,” Steve drawls, his grip hardens, lifting you up and slamming you down. “I want you on top of me every day. Ride my dick, or my face, whatever you want, just let me have you!”

At the same time, your clit is rubbing deliciously against him, making the second orgasm build. “Fuck, you're holding my dick so tight, like your pussy doesn't want to let me go.” All you answer with is a strangled mewl, too busy chasing your high.

“Are you gonna be a good girl and come on my dick? And then let me fill you up with my cum, sugar? Is that what gets you off, riding your cowboy until he bursts inside of you?

Steve's words spur you on, doubling your efforts, angling your hips until his dick presses into your g-spot and your clit grinds against his pelvis. You feel him pulsing, knowing he's about to come in you is so hot.

“I'm gonna come!” you gasp. “Yeah, me too, sugar!”

With a cry of ecstasy, the climax washes over your skin, sending convulsions through your muscles. You feel every pulse of Steve's own orgasm and hear him call your name.

You collapse on his chest, both of you panting. Steve hugs you close, his hands rubbing along your back as his dick softens and the cum starts to leak out, but you could care less. Being in Steve's arms feels right. Hearing his beating heart, the scent of sex and sweat in the air, knowing it's from the both of you.

After a while, he speaks, but it's not the words you'd expect. “Fuck, sugar, I promised myself this would never happen. I know your dad likes me and all but I don't think he'd take too kindly to me fucking his daughter.”

The happy high in you bursts into sour bubbles, and the pink, golden afterglow is replaced by the harsh reality.

“What do you mean?” you frown as you sit up. Suddenly everything feels sticky, cold, and gross. “You're my boss’, my friend's, daughter. I can't have you even if I wanted to.”

A lump forms in your throat and you try to clear it before asking, “What are you saying?” “It can't happen again.” “Are you saying this was a mistake?” “Yes, sugar, but it was the best mistake of my life.” “Yeah, okay, well…” you get off him and take the cover to wrap around you. The cum leaks down your legs as you say, “You saw me to the door, and I'm fine, thank you for coming to get me.” “Sugar, please, you understand don't you?” Steve stands up, reaching for you but you shrug his hands away. “You know the way out, I need to shower.”

Without looking back you hurry to the bathroom, listening to Steve gather his things and the sound of the door shutting behind him. You stand even longer looking at the shower running, not wanting to wash away the evidence of Steve's visit, but finally, you do.

You manage to avoid Sunday dinner by claiming you're not feeling well. Your mom offers to drop off some food, but you assure her she doesn't need to. If she shows up and asks how you're feeling you're scared everything is just gonna come blurting out. Before hanging up, she adds, "Dad and Steve hope you feel better soon!"

With effort, you respond, "Yeah, tell them I said thanks."

The following week, you feel like you can't excuse yourself and you just hope Steve won’t be there for some reason.

As you park your car at the house you don't see his truck anywhere, easing the anxiety that sits in your stomach.

At the beginning of December, your mom has decked out the house and yard with holiday decorations. It lightens up the otherwise dark ranch that's far away from any streetlights.

“Oh honey, great to see you!” Your mom greets you at the door with a hug, your dad right behind her. After saying hello and getting out of your clothes, your mom is quick to put you to work. “Can you do me a favor? I left the dessert to cool in the sunroom, can you please get it for me?”

Growing up, the sunroom was one of your favorite places. You have great memories of sitting in the plush reading chair after the sun has set during the summer months, the windows open, and listening to the sound of the animals out in the field. Then, after your dad installed a fireplace, you loved to curl up with your hot cocoa and listen to the crackling of the flames while it slowly heated the space. Just like the rest of the house and yard, it's decorated to perfection, soft lights illuminating the space and making it a magical place.

What catches you off guard are the flower petals scattered over the floor, and in the middle of the floor is Steve on both his knees.

No dessert in sight, if you don't count the cowboy on the ground.

For a short moment, you wonder if your parents knew about this, but then you hear the door shut behind you and that answers it. The room is chilly, but your blood is rushing hot in your veins. You're embarrassed and mad and to your utter disappointment, hopeful for what he has to say.

“Steve?” you ask, crossing your arms, feigning annoyance. “Sugar, I'm here, on my knees to ask for your forgiveness and to please hear me out.” His blue eyes are a weakness of yours but you steal yourself to not fall for the softness in them.

“I assume you told them what happened?” you nod in the direction you came from. Steve looks uncomfortable, even blushing. “Well, I didn't give them any details, but I told them we kissed and that I messed up. Thought your dad was gonna murder me first. He thought I got you pregnant, so I think they figured it out anyway.” “Pregnant?!” you exclaim. It all feels overwhelming, and you bury your face in your hands, wishing you could disappear through the floor.

Then warm rough hands clasp yours, pulling them away carefully. “I also told them that I'm in love with their daughter and if she gives me another chance, I'll prove to her every day how much she means to me.” Steve's voice is soft and earnest; it makes tears burn at the back of your eyes.

You want to be mad, but you haven't been able to stop thinking about his stupid face since he left. The fucker also left his cowboy hat behind, and every time you looked at it you remembered how he placed it on your head the night he came to your rescue. You could have brought it with you tonight and left it on the porch for your parents to find. But you didn't. Secretly you hoped that Steve would have to come by your place to collect it.

But even after acting like an asshole, you're still very much in love with Steve Rogers.

“Yeah, fine,” you say nonchalantly and look away, trying to hide how happy you feel. A finger on your chin turns your head back towards him. “Fine, sugar? Just fine?”

Forcing your stone-faced expression to stay in place you say, “For now, it's fine. Don't think some flower petals, kneeling, and sweet words are gonna make me forgive you just like that.” “Every day, sugar, I'll work my ass off until you do.” You glance at him, taking in the rugged handsomeness of the man before you, and you just can't resist. Leaning in, you kiss his cheek, reminiscent of what caused this whole thing in the first place. But Steve isn't satisfied. He gathers you up and presses his lips to yours. If you said you hadn't missed the feel of his kiss, you'd be lying. So you return it, weaving your arms around his neck and then your legs around his waist as he lifts you from the ground into his strong arms.

“I don't think mom would take too kindly to us fucking in here,” you tell him when you pull away. “No, but after dinner you're coming to my place and staying the night.” “Bossy…” you joke. “I didn't mean it like that, sugar, I'm not gonna force you to do anything you don't-” You interrupt him with a kiss. “Steve, calm down, I was joking, it's fine.” “Fine? “Fine!”

And everything was.

[maiko-san]

Catnap + Dogday x Reader ( Part 4 )

<<< Part 3

Relationship : Fluff

Warning : None (?)

Plot : Every time you enter the Playcare you feel eyes watching you everywhere you go. You feel stressed and start to become sick.

Recently, you feel uneasy and something tells you that you were being watched. Every time you go to work, you feel eyes on you.

It scares you.

Nobody likes the feel of being watched.

It made you stressed out.

You tried to get rid of these feelings by distracting yourself with work. You tried to keep yourself busy to a point you overwork yourself with all those papers or taking care of the Smiling Critters.

To a point it made your body ache and have a migraine from overthinking.

Not only that, Catnap has been acting quite differently too and his visit has become less and less each day. Not only that—

The lovely and sweet cat is avoiding you!

You finally asked the feline, what's the matter but only received—

"It's nothing...."

Nothing....nothing? Obviously there's something wrong!

Multiple questions began to swarm into your brain like a raging tsunami, did you do something wrong? It must be you, right? Yes, no? Maybe?

You had a slight feeling it has something to do with the higher ups.....

Did they tell Catnap to...avoid you? It has to be it, right? Why they do such a thing?

The stress starts to eat you the more you think about it.

Dogday and the other smiling critters saw that you've been stressed lately to a point it started to affect your health. It made them worried, especially Dogday. As a leader, it was his responsibility to care for everyone's wellbeing, including you.

"Angel, You look nervous lately. Are you feeling alright?"

"Oh, hey. Dogday....."

Dogday knew something was wrong. He comes closer to you and touches your shoulder.

You slightly flinch under his touch which made the canine even more worried.

"Angel, please tell me. Is something bothering you?"

"......"

"As a leader, it's my duty to help everyone in need. I won't forgive myself if anything happens to you"

"....."

Dogday holds your hands gently and holds them in his large ones.

You take a deep breath before telling him what's been bothering you, you know it will be useless to ignore the canine. He is stubborn and won't stop until you tell him what's wrong.

"I feel like something bad is going to happen. I don't know when. It might happen now, Sooner? Tomorrow?"

"......"

"I really hate this feeling, Dogday.....I-I can't get rid of it and no matter how many times I tried to forget it by distracting myself with work, I just.....couldn't— Not only that, Catnap has been ignoring me and started to avoid me! I— ugh, m-my head"

You suddenly drop to your knees causing Dogday to panic and he begins to whine worriedly.

Dogday's heart clenched the way you spoke. You feel scared, anxious and nervous. The canine pulls you into an embrace, in hope that it will help you calm down.

"Let's get you to the infirmary..."

Dogday makes sure that the school doctor treats you and gives you medication.

"Mrs. (L/n), I think it would be better if you take a week off from work"

"A week?!"

"Angel, it's for your own good"

"But—"

"No buts, end of conversation!"

The doctor said sternly you were causing you to snap your mouth shut.

The doctor also recommended you to rest someplace quiet and away from the city and your workplace.

It seems you have to go to your foster parents house, they always welcome you with open arms if you need anything.

"Alright...I'll take the day off..."

But still....that gut wrenching feelings still resides in you....

For today, you need to rest in the infirmary room until you are discharged.

Dogday leaves you to rest before proceeding to make his way back to his stage but before that, he wants to find Catnap first.

Dogday knows that Catnap is great at hiding, but it won't stop him since he has his canine sense helping him.

He sniffs around to find the feline until he sees the cat, snoozing around his stage like he always does.

"Catnap. I need to speak to you..."

"...Speak"

"(Y/n) is sick, have you not noticed?"

"...I know..."

"Then why did you help her with your red smoke? To make her sleep and at ease?"

"....."

Catnap looks away from the dog, Catnap knew that you were sick. It hurts him to see you like that.

He wants to help and comfort you, he really does but...

He had received an order he has to obey. His had to choose between two individuals that he adores. One he worships and the other he loves. Yet, he chose the one he worships, the one that saves his life.

Catnap knew that Dogday will help you and he trusts the dog with you in his care.

Other than that, using the red smoke on you will make everything much worse and potentially kill you in your sleep.

He doesn't want that to happen to someone who cares for him and loves him.

"Why?"

"Red smoke use...on stress person...bad could hurt and... possibly.........kill..."

"O-oh..."

Dogday rubs his arm before turning away, but before he leaves.

"Please, pay her a visit, Catnap. If you do, it makes her less worried and she would be happy to see you again"

"Also, She won't come to work for a week...."

Dogday leaves Catnap's stage, leaving Catnap alone to think about his decision to see you.

A/N : Another chapter finished 😁 . Also, a fair warning for all of you. The future chapters will become darker as it progresses since I want to stick to the plot of the game.

Also, the mascots have their own stages to perform for the orphans!

[formula-ghost]

The Driver (FC43 x fem!reader)

SUMMARY: After years of being with your boyfriend, Franco Colapinto, you should feel secure and ready for your budding future. When old anxieties creep in, will your relationship withstand the pressure?

WORD COUNT: 9.5k 

WARNINGS: Semi-public car sex (reader and Franco are both switches, fingering, p in v). Angst, mentions of cheating. Heavy mentions of marriage, incredibly Champagne Problems coded but I have to stick to the Måneskin theme. Probably incorrect geographical depictions of Spain. Reader has an anxiety disorder/struggles with mental health. Same universe as Supermodel/RYD (in RYD, Franco’s Aston Martin contract is only one year, so we’re just skipping ahead here). 

A/N: You all asked for Franco car sex and instead I gave you emotional pain :) I don’t think I’ll ever stop writing for RYD!Franco, I just love him too much. After this I’ll keep writing for Wildflower and then maybe do a few one shots before the next series perhaps? Either way, hope you enjoy!

TAGLIST: [COMMENT TO BE ADDED TO MY FRANCO TAGLIST!]  @scopeiguess @storyteller-le @xivilivix @htpssgavi @wierdflowerpower @justsisse @uncreativetm  @ncrsbrg @tillyt04 @amz824 @ellelabelle @aliwritex

If you gonna set fire to the night, baby let me be the lighter

If you’re already high and you wanna fly, I’ll be the hit that takes you higher

If you wanna love when you touch the sky, you can be my midnight rider

If there’s nowhere to go when you wanna go wild, I wanna be the driver

After getting his first multi-year Formula 1 contract—complete with a hefty sign-on bonus—there were three things that Franco Colapinto needed to buy. 

The first was a house for his parents. 

He led his mother around the massive home, showing her every little detail that he had noticed when he chose it, all perfectly arranged according to her taste. At first, she wasn’t sure what her son was doing; he had wanted it to be a surprise, so he didn’t tell her anything. 

“Yes, Franquito, the home is beautiful,” she said, craning her neck to look at the high ceilings, the sunlight from the massive windows illuminating her face. “But why would you buy a house here in Argentina? You’re hardly ever home, you can just stay with us in the off season.”

Franco, like his mother, was a pragmatist. He’d never buy himself a mansion in Argentina unless he had retired from F1 and decided to settle down. But his career was just getting started. 

She continued, “I mean, you and YN don’t need this much space—”

“It’s not for us, Mami,” he said, finally letting loose the smile that he’d be fighting all day. He was never able to keep secrets, too much of a chatterbox. “It’s for you.”

“Franco—”

“Mami,” he said, already anticipating her hesitation. “It is the least I can do. I can never repay you for all you’ve done for me.”

“That’s my job. You don’t need to repay me.”

“Maybe I don’t need to, but I want to.”

Tears had begun to well up in his mother’s eyes. She knew it was impossible to stop him. It was every athlete’s dream to make enough money to buy their mother a house one day; she wouldn’t take that from him.  “I’m so proud of you, mijo,” he said, enveloping her son in her arms. “You have made me proud beyond measure.”

It was Franco’s turn now to tear up, though he blinked them away and smiled. “I couldn’t have done it without you.”

“I figured something was up,” she laughed, “this house is too much my style for you to buy it. I think YN would like it, though. How is she doing?”

“She’s good,” he answered, unsure of how to proceed. His mother let him pause, knowing he was about to say something. “I’m… thinking about asking her to marry me.”

“Oh, wonderful!” she replied, her smile now stretching ear to ear. 

“We haven’t talked about it yet, though. So don’t get your hopes up. She might not say yes.”

“Why wouldn’t she?” his mother questioned. “You’ve been together for years, through thick and thin.”

“I don’t know,” he said, scratching the back of his neck in nervousness. “We just…haven’t talked about it. I’m nervous.”

“Well, don’t ask her until you’ve talked about it. But I see no reason why she’d say no.” She reached out to smooth over a piece of his hair that was stuck up at an odd angle. “Take your time,” she continued. “If you all aren’t ready now, there’s no harm in waiting. You have the entire rest of your lives to be together.”

Franco gave her a weak smile, his expression still plastered with nervousness. “But when you do get married,” she continued, as if it was a fact, “I expect grandbabies.”

He laughed, despite knowing that she was dead serious. That would be a bridge to cross later.

For now, he had a second purchase to make: his first real car. 

Franco, despite being a Formula 1 driver, had always been down to earth. When he drove for Williams, they had to fight him over taking the bus every day. Even in his early days, his future had been too unstable to spend all his hard-earned money on something like a flashy car, especially since he’d be away so often that he’d hardly be able to use it.

But now, he knew that the time was right, and he’d more than earned it. So, when Franco woke you up at the crack of dawn to go to the luxury dealership in Madrid to pick up his new car the second that they opened, you obliged him despite the hour being far too early. 

As the salesman handed him the keys, Franco beamed as if he was holding his newborn child, his eyes wide with love and anticipation.

“She’s beautiful,” he whispered, running his hands up and down along the hood of the flashy luxury car.

You stood back, afraid to even touch this car that was more expensive than your net worth. 

“She’s perfect. She’s the most perfect car I’ve ever seen.” He looked up at you, smiling like a giddy child. “Isn’t she perfect?”

You smiled back, amused by Franco’s happiness. “It certainly is a nice car.”

“It’s not just a nice car. She’s a machine.” You chuckled back at him. “Let’s go for a ride.”

You were honestly a little scared of getting in the car. But when Franco crossed over to open your door for you and help you inside, you couldn’t tell him no.

Sitting inside, you had to admit that it was a really nice car. Franco yapped on about the technical abilities of the engine, but it was in one ear and out the other—despite his many years in F1, you couldn’t say you had learned anything about the machines that your longtime boyfriend drove for a living. But you loved to hear him talk, especially when he was this happy, so you nodded as if you were listening intently. 

Franco went to back up the car, putting his hand on your headrest and leaning over his shoulder. The move showed off his prominent muscles and instantly melted you. Even after all these years, it was the little things that you never got tired of. 

He sped along the highways, giggling to himself as he heard the engine rev and felt the smoothness of the ride. His smile never wavered as he increased his speed and weaved through the slower cars. 

He skipped the exit that would lead back to your home, though. “Where are we going?” you asked.

“I want to show you something,” he said, being intentionally vague with his intentions. 

You raised an eyebrow. Franco wasn’t one for surprises; he talked too damn much to ever keep them. If he hadn’t told you before now, it must be something serious. 

He moved his hand over to hold your thigh, another one of those little things he did that still made you crazy no matter how many times he did it. “Trust me, amor,” he said.

Of course, you trusted him. So when he exited the highway and began driving into the Spanish countryside, you said nothing, instead choosing to enjoy the feeling of his hand rubbing soft circles into your thigh as the trees blurred past you and the engine purred.

After a while he finally slowed his speed, bringing the car up to an empty overlook off the main road. Through the tinted windows, you could see that this place was hidden, nestled off by the trees so that you could only get here if you knew where you were going. The view was gorgeous; miles and miles of lush greenery, and in the far off distance, the city that you had just left. 

“Wow..” you whispered. “How’d you find this place?”

“I used to run on these roads out here when I was younger,” he said, admiring you as you admired the view. 

“It’s beautiful.”

“I don’t get to come here much anymore,” he said. “I never thought I’d come back here one day as a Formula 1 driver.”

“Thank you for bringing me here,” you said, leaning over to kiss his cheek. His face had the slightest tinge of blush, so subtle that only you could see it. 

“Come on, let’s get a good look,” he said, turning off the engine and opening his door.

You got out of the car and softly gasped again when you saw the view with your own two eyes, rather than through the tinted glass. It left you breathless.

You sat cross legged next to Franco on the grass, taking in the sights of the countryside around you. For a while you were quiet, just soaking in the sounds of nature. 

Then Franco broke the calmness. “Have you ever thought about getting married?”

His voice was soft, but his words startled you. “Married?”

“I mean, we’ve been together for a while. About time, no?”

Truthfully, you had thought about marriage quite a bit. The mere idea of it scared you. And talking about it scared you even more. 

“You sound enthusiastic,” you joked. 

“You know what I mean.” He looked down, clearly also nervous for this momentous discussion. Still, he kept his voice light and steady. “I love you. I can’t think of anyone else I’d want to spend the rest of my life with.”

“I’d hope not,” you chuckled. But your attempts at diffusing the tension with humor failed.

He adopted a more serious tone. “YN, I want to marry you,” he said. His eyes looked up to meet yours, and for some reason, you felt your heart drop into your stomach. “I’m not proposing right now, but it’s something we should start thinking and talking about.”

You looked out into the distance and took a shaky breath. Why was this so difficult?

“So, talk to me, amor,” he said. 

“You want to marry me?” you asked, your voice small and squeaky.

“Of course I do,” he replied, brushing your hair out of your face. Now there were no barriers between you. “You’re the love of my life.”

You wanted to cry. “I’m scared.”

“Of what?”

“I don’t know. It’s just so…final. What if something goes wrong?”

“Then we work through it, like we always do.” He was right. Your relationship with Franco had certainly had its rocky patches, but he treated you like a queen. You two overcame every obstacle, including your own mind that often worked against you. You often felt like you didn’t deserve someone so patient and kind. 

“Things change when you get married.”

“I know,” he said. “I’m not saying any of this lightly. I’ve thought about it a lot.”

Even after years of loving him, it still surprised you whenever Franco told you that he thought of you. You could never get used to existing in his head when you physically weren’t there.

“What do you think about?” you asked, moving closer to him.

He reached his arm around your waist, resting his hand on your hip. “I think about you, in a white dress. We’d be in the church in Argentina.” You knew the one. He’d gone there growing up, and had shown it to you several times when you went to visit his family. “And we’d have a ridiculous party, into the morning,” he said smiling, leaning his head down closer to you. “And, a while after that, maybe a few months or a year or so, you’d be eating for two.”

You bit the inside of your cheek to stop your eyes from watering. “That sounds…”

“Perfect?”

No. You were going to say real. That sounds real. And it scared you. 

Truthfully, you could imagine the wedding, and the babies, and the many happy years of being Franco’s wife.

But you could also imagine the distance. The exhaustion. The bitterness. 

“Growing up, I never thought I’d get married,” you said, shifting the conversation. “I just… I couldn’t imagine anyone wanting to marry me,” you laughed. 

“I do,” he said. The effect of his words weren’t lost on you; the same words he would say to take the vow. “I want to marry you.”

You had told him a long time ago that your insecurities weren’t something he could fix. He remembered that, and he respected it. But still, it always broke his heart when he realized that even after years of loving you, those old wounds refused to heal. 

“Why?” you asked. Your head was beginning to hurt from holding in all the tears. 

“Why?” he echoed, incredulous at why you’d even need to ask such a ridiculous question. His voice held no malice, though. “Because I love you.”

“Don’t you get tired of this?”

“Of what?”

“Of…me being difficult for no good reason?”

“You’re not being difficult. Marriage is a huge deal, obviously. I don’t want us to rush into it if you’re not ready.”

“What if I’m never ready?”

He sighed. “Then…well, honestly, that would break my heart. I’d want you to work through whatever is holding you back. But I’d be with you every step of the way.”

You looked away into the distance. Part of you wanted to run and disappear in the thick foliage of the Spanish countryside. The other part of you wanted to bury your head in Franco’s chest, finally letting go of all the reservations that had haunted you for years. 

You knew Franco. You loved Franco. You trusted Franco.

So why were you still so afraid?

“Mi amor,” he said, gently guiding your head so you had to look at him. “Do you want to get married?” He tilted his head closer to you. 

You knew what he was asking. Not if you were ready right now, not if you were scared; but deep down, in your heart of hearts, did you want to marry Franco Colapinto?

“Yes,” you whispered. Just as he didn’t have to explain, neither did you. He knew what you meant; yes, but I’m scared. Yes, but I’m not ready. Yes, but I’m afraid I’ll never be ready.

He brought his lips to yours, gently kissing you as you let the few tears that had been welling up in your eyes finally go. When he pulled back, he wiped them away.

“We don’t have to make a decision now,” he said. “We’ve got time. I want us both to be ready.”

You kissed him again, this time more forceful. There was nothing sexier than a man with emotional intelligence. 

He pulled away again to finish his thought. “Just keep thinking on it, okay? We can talk about it as much as you want.”

“Okay,” you said, smiling as he looked at you.

“What?” he asked, his own playful smile dancing across his face.

“You’re so hot when you respect my boundaries.”

He laughed. “Mi amor, that’s the bare minimum.”

“Keep going,” you joked, “I’m so close.”

“Don’t say that,” he said, leaning down to kiss your neck. “I’ll start misbehaving.”

“Maybe I want you to,” he said, sharply inhaling as he gently bit the skin on your neck, sure to leave a mark.

“You’ll be the death of me,” he whispered in your ear, sending shivers down your spine as he nibbled on your earlobe. 

“Get me home and show me how horrible I am, then,” you teased, reaching out to touch his waist. 

“We don’t even need to get home.” He reached up to hold your neck with one hand as he continued kissing up and down your jaw.

“Here?” you said, darting your eyes around. 

“In the car,” he said, his voice already getting breathy. 

“No,” you urged. “It’s new.”

“Exactly. We have to break it in, no? Or bless it,” he said. His hands were beginning to roam underneath the hem of your shirt now.

“You’d never forgive me if I messed up the seats.”

“They’re leather, it cleans easy. I can get it detailed.” He stifled your next complaint with a deep kiss. “No one is ever around here. And the windows are tinted,” he whispered into your mouth. 

You laughed. “You’re a freak.”

“I’m your freak. And don’t lie, you love it,” he said, snaking his hand down to tease its way under your skirt. “I can tell how much you love it.”

You stopped him before his hand could go any further—after all, you were technically still in public. 

“Get in the car, whore,” you joked, before Franco hopped up and nearly sprinted to open the car door and set his seat back as far as it could go. 

He sat in the seat and patted his lap. “You joining me?”

You playfully rolled your eyes, getting up to meet your lover at the car and carefully climb onto his lap, occupying his lips with a deep kiss that he moaned into. 

“Did you plan this?” you asked. 

“Plan what?” he said, a devilish grin across his face. 

“Bringing me out to your scenic spot to fuck me in your new sports car?”

“Wasn’t planned at all. I’m a spontaneous man.”

“Mhm. How many other girls did you bring here before we started dating?”

“Less talking, more fucking, yeah?” he said. You probably didn’t want to know the answer. But that was all in the past. Franco was yours—he had been for years now, and he wanted to be yours forever.

There would be time to think about that later. Right now, all you could think about was the beautiful boy sitting beneath you, looking at you as if he needed you as simply as he needed air. You could feel him hardening beneath you. 

You shifted your weight to straddle him, grinding down on his length, eliciting a sharp exhale from him. 

“You’re so needy today, Franco,” you said as you ran your fingers through his soft curls.

“I’m always needy for you.” He brought his lips back to yours, hungry for the taste of you. His lips trailed down to your jaw and neck. “YN, you don’t know what you do to me…”

“I think I can feel it,” you joked, softly grinding your clothed pussy over the growing bulge in his jeans. 

“Don’t tease me,” he begged, roaming his hands up the hem of your blouse.

“But it’s so fun,” you said, leaning over to whisper in his ear. “I love to see you fall apart underneath me.”

“Fuck, YN—”

“Less talking, more fucking, no?” you said, mocking his statement from earlier. You met his mouth in a kiss, and he moved his hands down under your skirt, running up and down the soft skin of your thighs. When he finally teased his fingers over the wet spot that was already growing in your panties, you softly inhaled, showing your desire for him. 

“I’m not the only needy one,” he teased, breathing in the smell of your perfume and shampoo, his head buried in your neck. 

You softly moaned as he moved your panties to the side and began circling his fingers around your clit. 

“Franco, fuck…”

“What happened to all that talk, huh? Or are you too busy trying not to cum on my fingers?”

All you could do was breathe as his fingers found their way inside of you, pumping in and out to prepare you for his cock. 

“Don’t try to stop it,” he said, “let go. Cum for me.”

You obeyed, your legs shaking as your walls pulsated on his fingers. You whimpered into his neck, steadying yourself by holding him. 

He kissed your cheek, but wasted no time in unzipping his jeans and plunging into you while you rode out the waves of your orgasm. He let out a breathy moan as he felt the sweet warmth of you wrapped around him. 

You were overcome with sensation; the burn of his cock stretching you out, the last dregs of pleasure now mixed with the pain, and the burn in your legs from sitting in the same position for too long.

It was all the more motivation to bounce up and down on his cock, finding a steady rhythm as he guided his hands to your hips.

You rested your head next to his, moaning into his ear with every thrust. The small space of the car may be cramped, but you couldn’t help but appreciate the intimacy of the moment. Franco’s eyes were closed in sensual bliss, his breath ragged as you increased your speed.

You wanted to watch him come undone from the sinful pleasure that your pussy brought him. 

“YN—” he moaned, his hands digging hard enough into your hips to leave bruises, “Oh, God, YN, you always feel so fucking good. So good for me.”

You whimpered from both the praise and the pleasure. You had to slow down—the fast stamina was too much on your legs, which were now burning from the awkward position you were stuck in. 

“I think you were made for me,” Franco whispered. “And I was made for you. See how well we fit together?” He took control, lifting you up as if you were weightless and bouncing you up and down on his own. You yelped at first, then your surprise gave way to bliss as you both chased your release. 

But Franco was relentless in his praise. “You’re my fucking soulmate. I wanna fuck you every day for the rest of our lives.”

“Franco, I’m so close—”

“Cum for me, mi amor. Again.” His own voice was strangled with desire, so close to his own peak.

With a high pitched whine, you obeyed, and the heavenly feeling of your walls contracted around him brought your lover to the edge soon after. 

And when you did both finish, you held each other, too tired to even move from the uncomfortable position from the car. 

Franco was a talker. You always knew that. He loved nothing more than to fill your ears with sweet nothings when you made love. But the context of the conversation that just transpired weighed on you, even with the comfort of Franco’s hands rubbing small circles into your back as you both tried to catch your breath. 

“You okay?” he asked, and you murmured in response, unable to form any coherent words in the aftermath of everything. “Let’s get home and we can take a shower, yeah?”

A warm shower sounded heavenly right now. You awkwardly shimmied your way into the passenger seat and took one last look at the view, thankful that the overlook was still deserted. You sighed as you settled in and buckled your seatbelt, relishing the relief of finally being able to stretch your legs. 

“Hey,” Franco asked as he readjusted his seat and turned on the car. “Are you okay, really?”

“Yeah,” you said. It was true; you were exhausted, overwhelmed, and hurting, but it was all worth it for him. 

He leaned over to kiss your cheek and smiled before putting the car in reverse. 

The third item that Franco had to buy was the ring. 

Truthfully, the conversation hadn’t gone as smoothly as he would have liked. In his dreams, you'd jumped for joy when he’d broached the subject, and you’d live happily ever after.

But despite his disappointment, he understood your hesitancy. He was just as afraid to ask the question as you were to say yes. He knew that your struggles with self esteem and anxiety were lifelong. He knew all this about you from the very beginning, and he loved you anyway. 

Still, it was times like this when it broke his heart that he couldn’t fix it. 

It didn’t matter. You’d come around eventually, you always did. And you had been honest when you said you wanted to marry him—there was just a lot of stuff in the way, mentally and emotionally. 

So yes, he’d wait a while before he popped the question. But that didn’t mean he had to wait to buy the ring. 

He knew the exact one. You had fallen in love with it years ago, when you had worn it in a PR shoot for one of his high profile sponsors. Though time had passed, he still remembered the sadness in your eyes when you had to give it back after the photoshoot. He had vowed to himself that day that he’d earn enough to get you that ring.

And now he finally had. 

A few days after your conversation, he found the now faded card that he had stuck in his wallet and called the number. When the same brand rep picked up, he exhaled, letting go of his fear.

“Franco! How nice to hear from you. I was beginning to think we’d scared you away.”

“No,” he laughed. “The opposite, actually.”

“Let me guess. You’re ready for that ring?”

‘How’d you know?”

“I’ve been doing this a long time. When a woman looks at a ring like that, and she’s with a man that truly loves her, it’s just a matter of time.”

He had swiped another ring of yours to get the measurements, and he completed the entire order over the phone on his drive back home from a day of pre-season meetings. He had three months before the beginning of the new season, and he wanted to propose before that so you could start wedding planning once the season started. Would three months be enough time for you to think about it? He didn’t know. 

But he couldn’t wait any longer. The giddiness was eating him alive. 

You could tell something was amiss, but the idea of a proposal was the last thing on your mind. 

Franco was hiding his phone from you. Which meant that Franco was hiding something important from you, and he was doing a horrible job of it. 

Your lover was never the type to be quiet or secretive about…anything really. He talked too much. You had to physically restrain him every Christmas from spoiling what he got you weeks in advance. So if there was something that he was truly trying to hide, it was something major. 

And it scared you. 

The thought that you had been holding back for years finally broke through one night where he put his phone face down at the dinner table after his phone lit up with several notifications. 

“Who’s texting you?” you asked, trying to keep your voice innocent despite the rush of dread that was rising in your stomach.

“No one,” he answered, too quickly for your liking. You didn’t respond. 

You knew Franco was attractive. Every girl would kill to have him. He was kind, funny, beautiful, and flirtatious. But he was yours. Right?

Franco had never crossed the line before. You trusted him with your life. But something within you just felt deeply, deeply wrong, and it came spilling out later that night when he tried to touch you. 

His phone was left on the nightstand, untouched since dinner; his focus was on you, running his hand up and down your side, gently dressing his lips to your shoulder as you faced away from him.

“Not tonight,” you whispered, unable to keep your voice from shaking. 

“All you alright, mi amor?” he asked, pulling back your shoulder to make you face him, seeing how you were desperately trying to keep the tears at bay. 

“I’m fine,” you said, biting the inside of your cheek.

Even after all your years together, Franco never quite knew when to press on and when to keep quiet when you said those two infamous words. And he didn’t have much time to think, because you rose from the bed and left the room, mumbling about needing a minute to get fresh air. 

You stepped onto the back porch and took a deep breath, steadying your heart rate and calming your nerves, if only for a moment. The night air was serene; you felt vile contaminating the peace with your anxiety.

Would this last forever? You couldn’t remember a time when you hadn’t felt this push and pull. You wanted to tell Franco to go, to relieve himself of the burden of your mental illness. You wanted to bottle up every insecurity, every doubt, every negative thought into a vault that you didn’t share with anyone. 

But you couldn’t. If Franco left you’d be broken. You couldn’t stop yourself from letting these thoughts and fears control you. In the past, therapy had helped, but you knew this was a weight you’d always have to carry. And that made you miserable. 

So yes, maybe it was for the better that Franco move on, find someone better, more stable, and build a life with her. 

“Mi amor?”

Franco’s voice broke your hopeless contemplation. 

“Talk to me,” he said. 

You just shook your head. He must be so tired of reassuring you, endlessly, knowing that it didn’t help one bit. 

“YN,” he urged, “you know I don’t like it when you try to shoulder everything alone.”

“I’m sorry,” you said. That was all you could say. “I’m sorry that I’m like this.”

“Like what?”

“Impossible.”

“What do you mean?” 

“You know what I mean. We have the same conversation over and over again. Don’t you get tired of it? Of having to reassure me and it never helping? Of me crying over every little thing? Franco, I’m a mess!”

“YN…” he sighed, “When have I ever said any of that?”

He was right. He had never expressed any frustration regarding your mental struggles. He had always been there when you needed him. 

“I’m sorry.”

“Have you just been up in your head, or did something happen?”

You contemplated lying, but you knew better. “You set your phone face down at dinner.”

“I— did you think I was…?”

“It’s not you, Franco. It’s never you. That’s the worst part. You have to deal with all of this and it’s not your fault at all,” you said, not even allowing him to say aloud what you both knew was true. 

Franco took a deep breath. “YN,” he said, calmly, “let’s go back inside and go through my phone.”

“No—”

“Yes,” he commanded. “I want you to be 100% confident that I love you and only you.”

“Franco—”

“Let’s go.”

He had a firmness in his voice that only made your anxiety worse, and immediately you felt horrible for even insinuating anything to the opposite. But he was your rock of reason in times like these when your anxiety took over, and so you followed his command, unlocking his phone when he handed it to you. 

As expected, there was no incriminating evidence, just far too many unopened emails and messages left on delivered. Even his recently deleted texts showed nothing. 

The buzzing that you had been so afraid of turning out to be…emails from a jewelry company?

“I ordered a custom necklace for your birthday,” Franco explained. “They’ve been so difficult, though. They lost the order and then sent me the wrong thing. It’s been hell.”

You handed back the phone with your head hung low, ashamed. “I’m sorry I ruined the surprise.”

“You know I would have ruined it beforehand anyway,” he said. “I’m not upset at you.”

“You should be. You deserve someone who trusts you.”

“You do trust me,” he said, “I know you do. It’s not you that’s saying this.” 

Fuck. Franco really did know you too well. 

“You know why I stay with you, even with all this?” You looked up at him, curious for the answer. He had never been this direct before. He continued, “Well, first of all, because I love you. But even during times when I’m frustrated, I remember everything we’ve been through, when you forgave me and were there for me when I didn’t deserve it. I was so close to losing you and it terrified me.”

Once again, your eyes were watering. He said, “I promised myself that if you really gave me a chance, I’d never forget it. I’d be there for you and be the best boyfriend I could be. Because…” he paused, searching for the right words, “I know that some of why you feel these things is because of how I acted in the past. I’ve done my best to make it right, but some things never leave you.”

“When did you become so damn wise?” you said, laughing through the tears as he smiled and wiped them away. 

“You bring out the best in me.”

The conversation was laid to rest then. Franco held you until you fell asleep, safe in his arms. As he heard your soft breaths even out, he grabbed his phone and frantically searched for a necklace to buy to cover his lie.

He hated lying to you, but in this case, what else was he to do?

The necklace and the ring arrived a few weeks later, right before you all were scheduled to take a flight to Buenos Aires to spend the rest of the break with his family. 

But he had a plan. The break in Buenos Aires would be one to remember—for your “birthday” he was also flying out your friends and family for a few days. He had the whole idea plotted out, with help from many others, to plan a surprise karting birthday celebration, with all your loved ones there. Then, he would propose.

It seemed so perfect—surrounded by all your loved ones, doing a fun activity, the perfect balance between public and private. He knew you’d love it. He knew you’d say yes. 

He was giddy as he carefully packed the two jewelry boxes in his luggage, surrounded by clothes for safe keeping. 

And as the day of the birthday party came closer and closer, he could barely hold in his excitement. Everyone knew but you; he had colluded with every guest, telling them his plan and getting their blessing to finally ask you to spend the rest of your life with him.

Everything was perfect. The day before, you parents and friends arrived, and Franco told you everything but the grand reveal. 

He gave you the present, a beautiful necklace that complimented your tastes perfectly. You split a bottle of wine amongst loved ones, and your parents brought out their own gift: a photo album of pictures that they’d never been able to show Franco. 

You cringed at the embarrassing baby photos and records of bad middle school haircuts, but you couldn’t help the tipsy smile on your face. You leaned your head on Franco’s shoulder as he flipped through the pages.

Franco’s mother got out her own photo albums, showing picture after picture of him as a baby, his blonde curls and toothy grin smiling from ear to ear. 

“You were such a cute baby,” you giggled, and he blushed.

“Were? I’m still a cute baby,” he joked, kissing you on the cheek.  You scrunched your nose and smiled.

You were so in love with this man that it hurt.

That night, when you all retired to your room, he rubbed your back, enjoying the simple quiet between you two.

“I love you,” you said to him out of the blue. He smiled; he said those words often, and you always said them back, but it was rarer, more meaningful, for you to say them unprompted. 

“But it’s not fair. You were a cute baby and you’re cute now. You can’t have both,” you giggled. 

“We’d make cute babies,” he teased, and you blushed. 

“You trying to find out?” you responded, the alcohol in your veins giving you more boldness.

“Not when you’re this tipsy,” he said. “Besides, I need to put a ring on your finger first.”

At the mention of marriage, you sobered up quickly. You hadn’t really been thinking about that conversation you’d had back in Spain—in fact, every time you thought about it, it just made you more anxious, so it had the opposite effect of you actively avoiding it. 

Of course, you were still scared. You loved Franco more than words could say, and that was the problem—it was so good that eventually, it would have to not be good. It was a backwards logic, yes, you had convinced yourself that at some point, things would only be able to go down. 

You didn’t want to lose this beautiful thing you had created. But Franco had said he wasn’t planning to propose any time soon, right? In your mind, you still had plenty of time. 

But Franco did not, and the next morning was chaos.

His phone was blowing up with last minute organizing and words of encouragement from your friends and family in the proposal plan group chat. He was sweating bullets, constantly checking his pockets before you all left for the kart track to make sure that yes, he had the ring. He contemplated putting it in his bag instead, but he didn’t want to lose it, so he ultimately settled on his pockets.

He knew that he needed to stop checking them or else you’d notice and ask. You were always observant, in that way. 

But every time he sat down, the stupid box kept falling out of his shorts. The pockets were too small. He’d just have to check one last time before he left the house and be careful. Yes, everything was going to go according to plan. 

And as you all arrived and he changed into his race suit quickly, all he could think about was the speech he had tried to memorize. You were a woman who appreciated words; he wanted to express how you made him feel, but in his head, he kept stumbling over them. 

YN, you make me so happy. No, too simple.

YN, will you make me the happiest man in the world? No, too cliche.

YN, I never knew happiness until I saw your smile. No, too melodramatic. 

He’d have to figure out the words as he said them. For now, he’d just focus on enjoying the moment with you. 

And that wasn’t hard; you were as giddy as a child as you sped around the track, spinning out and pushing the poor kart to go faster and faster. 

Franco had arranged a tournament of sorts; of course, he had spoken with everyone beforehand to rig you as the winner. 

On your end, you knew everyone was letting you win. You were awful at karting. But it was your birthday event, after all. You didn’t care, you were having fun. 

It came down to the “championship” battle: you versus Franco. Of course, you knew your boyfriend would let you win, as he always did, but you loved the rush of adrenaline as the wind whipped past you anyway. You couldn’t stop smiling as you crossed the finish line and took off your helmet, flipping your hair out. 

You heard Franco stop his car behind you and get out, too. 

“I can’t believe YN won!” Franco’s mother said, smiling wide. 

“Thank you all for so graciously giving me that win,” you joked, looking to all your family and friends circled round, cheering for you. Franco was behind you still. You almost turned to him, but his mother interrupted. “Let me take a picture!”

This was the moment. All he had to do was take the ring out of his pocket and get down on one knee. 

He reached in his pocket and pulled out… nothing. 

His pockets were empty. 

He looked back at his father, the fear of God in his eyes, and patted his empty pockets. No one said a word. 

His mother, now done with taking the picture, leaned over to give you a hug. She sent a death glare to Franco over your shoulder, but still gave him the time to sprint back to the locker room to try and find the goddamn thing. 

He ran faster than his F1 car could drive, cursing under his breath at how stupid he could be. He could still save this, though. 

He found his bag and shook out the contents, frantically searching, until finally, at the bottom of the bag, he saw the box. He must have stuck it there while changing and forgot about it.

He let out a breath with enough power to shake the entire building. He opened the box to get a quick glance just to make sure everything was okay.

Except, everything wasn’t. There was no ring in the box.

He had grabbed the empty necklace box. 

Knowing you were far enough away to not hear him, he sweared very, very loudly. Unbeknownst to Franco, his father had followed him back to the locker room.

“Did you find it, mijo?” 

“I brought the wrong box,” he said, “This is for the necklace.”

His father sighed. “Franco…”

“I know, I know.”

“We can still fix this. Give her the ring at dinner!”

“I guess I’ll have to,” Franco said. He had never been more disappointed in himself. He had ruined everything. 

“Hey,” his father said, “chin up. You’ve still got this. The ring will be the perfect end to the perfect day, okay?”

“Okay,” he said, still not entirely convinced. But you would be wondering where he went soon; he couldn’t stay and mope too long.

His father left him to go relay the information to the rest of the group. Franco took a few deep breaths as he changed, mentally readying himself to see you again. He put on a smile as he saw you waiting for him outside the track with the others. 

“So, we’ll all head back and get ready, then meet for dinner tonight?” his mother said.

“Sounds good,” Franco answered, wrapping his arm around you as he walked you back to the car. 

Thankfully, when you got back to his parent’s house, you immediately wanted to take a shower and wash your hair, giving him time to search the entire room. Which he did, from top to bottom, and he still couldn’t find the ring.

It was just…gone. He had gone through every compartment of his suitcase, every pocket in his clothes, every hiding space. Still, it was nowhere to be found. 

His parents even helped him look, carefully parsing through every possible place until it was too late. You were nearly ready for dinner, and they all had to rush to get ready to make it to the restaurant in time for the reservation. 

Franco texted the groupchat the horrible news—he had fucked up. He had lost the ring. There would be no proposal. 

Kind words flooded his phone, but they meant nothing to the depressed Argentine. He had planned this out so perfectly; how did it end so badly?

And the worst part? He couldn’t even tell you. 

The atmosphere at dinner was more somber than usual. His sister had bought a bottle of nice champagne that would now have to go unopened. He would just have to propose some other time.

That’s what he reminded himself, every time the thought came up and threatened to choke him. Maybe next time he would fly his family out to Spain instead. He wasn’t in any rush. And you’d never have to know how badly he fumbled. 

Well, while you didn’t know the details, you could tell something was up. You mentioned it to Franco on the way home.

“Is something wrong?” you asked, and Franco cringed internally. He was always bad about hiding his emotions. 

“No, I’m fine,” he answered. 

“Well, everyone at dinner just seemed…off.”

“Probably just tired.”

You just hummed to yourself, refusing to allow your thoughts to wander any further. You, too, were tired. When you got back to the house, you both started to get undressed, taking off your fancy heels and jewelry.

You took off your necklace—the beautiful gift that Franco had given you, that you’d now treasure forever—but the box wasn’t on the nightstand where you had left it yesterday.

“Franco, have you seen my necklace box?” you asked from the bedroom. He was in the bathroom washing his face, and only barely heard you over the running of water. The mention of the box just made the whole night worse.

“Yeah, it’s in my bag,” he said, and you raised an eyebrow. How had your necklace box ended up there?

You leaned down to his bag, rustling around until you found the familiar box, though it was heavier than you remembered. 

When you opened it, you were nearly blinded by the glint of a beautiful diamond engagement ring. 

It was familiar; the same ring you had fallen in love with years ago. And it was in Franco’s bag. He had…bought you an engagement ring.

He was going to propose.

You could feel your heart rate increasing by the second. But you weren’t ready. You had only talked about it a few weeks ago. You were scared. 

It was okay, though. It was okay. You would just put the ring back. You’d find a way to hint to him that it wasn’t the right time. You could just fake it. He’d never have to—

“YN?”

You looked up at Franco’s face, widened with shock. You didn’t respond.

“Where did you find that?”

“In your bag.” Your voice was barely above a whisper. 

“I—” Franco was too stunned to speak. You quickly closed the box and put it back in the bag.

“I’m sorry. I didn’t see anything. This never happened,” you said, your voice rapidly talking without even thinking. You got up to leave the room, too anxious to stay seated, talking to yourself even after you were out of earshot of your lover.

Franco sat on the bed and sighed. Now he had majorly fucked up. First of all, how had no one found the ring in his bag, even after 3 people looked in there? And second of all, how did you find it?

But that wasn’t the biggest issue anymore. His plan had already been ruined, but he knew by the look on your face that your surprise was not a good one. He saw that fear that nestled itself into every crevice of your expression. 

You weren’t happy to find that ring. Not because it had ruined the surprise element—you just didn’t want him to propose.

He now had two options. He could do what he knew you’d want: act as if nothing ever happened and never broach the subject of marriage for several years to come, allowing you to shove away all those scary feelings until you’d deluded yourself into thinking you were over it. 

Or, he could do what he needed to do, and talk to you. 

He took a deep breath and followed you outside.

You were sitting on the back porch. Not crying, just quiet, looking out into the backyard. When Franco sat next to you, you didn’t say anything. He reached out to grab your hand, and you let him, softly admiring how he curled his thumb around your palm in soothing circles. 

“The plan,” he began, “was to ask you today. At the karting track. But I brought the wrong box.” He softly smiled at the absurdity of it. “When you were getting ready we were all frantically looking for it. I don’t know how we missed it.”

You just hummed in response, unsure of what to say. You needed to be honest. You needed to say the difficult things.

You began, though your voice felt choked. “Franco, if you would have asked me today, I would have said no.” You felt his hand tense up. “I mean, I would have said yes, because everyone was there. But…”

You trailed off, your words fleeing from you now. 

“I don’t understand,” Franco confessed. “We’re happy. You’re happy with me, aren’t you?”

“I am.”

“Then why don’t you want to marry me?” His voice dripped with sadness, and all you wanted to do was hold him. You turned your head to face him, and the deep sorrow in his eyes nearly brought you to tears.

“I do want to. I just…”

“I’ve done everything I can to be good to you. I’ve tried to always be there. I know I’m not perfect, but—”

“It’s not you, Franco. It was never you.”

“Then why? What can I do?” His voice cracked, seeping with hopelessness and frustration. “If it’s not because of me, then what am I supposed to do?” 

You got up. “Come here,” you said, and led him to the living room. The home was quiet; his parents were asleep, and the vast emptiness of the home was eerie. 

You grabbed the photo album that your parents had given you, and sat down on the couch, motioning for Franco to sit next to you. 

You opened it to a picture of you at your 4th birthday party. In the photo, you grimaced though the uncomfortable sensation of a plastic party hat. “Do you see her?” you asked him. He nodded. 

“I remember feeling like this when I was that little. This…fear. I desperately wanted friends but was too afraid to talk to anyone.”

You flipped to the next page, pointing to a photo of you sitting alone in a park, a forced smile across your face. “What do you notice about this picture?” you asked him.

Franco leaned in closer to look. “I don’t know,” he said. 

“I’m alone. See all the other kids in the background?” 

You kept flipping until you found the first photo of you when Franco knew you. You were fifteen, smack in the middle of your awkward teenage years, in the stands at one of his races. 

“I remember that,” he said. 

“That’s me, spending time with my first real friend,” you said. “I didn’t know it yet, but I had a huge crush on him,” you joked.

“He was going to ask you to marry him today. And you just told him you would have said no.”  

“I know,” you said, trying to be gentle with your tone. “But what I’m trying to say is that you’re not just asking me. You’re asking her. And she feels so alone, and she’s scared to trust anyone.”

Franco sat with the thought for a moment, before getting up to grab his own photo book. He opened it to the first page, and pointed to a photo of him as a toddler, wrapped in a scarf, toothy grin spread wide. 

“And that’s who asked you.”

You felt a knot of emotion in your stomach break. All you wanted was to cry. 

“This goes both ways, YN,” Franco continued. “I understand that you’re scared. But I can’t fix that fear. Only you can.”

The dam broke, your tears flooding forth. He was right. So you told him.

“You’re right. I’m sorry,” you said, and he wrapped his arm around you, rubbing your back through the tears. 

“I’m not perfect either. I shouldn’t have rushed it, I was just excited.”

“Don’t apologize for being excited to propose,” you laughed through your tears. “I should probably go back to therapy.”

“If you think that’ll help,” he said.

“It will,” you sniffled. “I just… I’ve been so afraid that I’ve been ignoring all the signs. I should have seen this coming. You’re never that excited to let me beat you in karting.”

He smiled at your banter. You continued, “But really, you’re right. I’ve just been avoiding this because I’m scared, getting up in my head. I just feel so happy and that scares me, because at some point it has to fall apart, right? You’re never happy forever.”

“You’re not unhappy forever, either. Of course we’d have rough spots. But that’s the beauty of marriage,” he said, “you vow to be there for each other through it all.”

“How did I get so lucky to have you?” you asked, meeting his gaze. 

His eyes were full of compassion and love. “I’m the lucky one.” He leaned down to kiss you. 

You didn’t really believe him. You still didn’t understand how someone so perfect could love you, someone so…broken. But one day you would. You had to.

The next year was difficult. You began your healing journey again—a journey you were convinced you’d be on your entire life. But you’d do it for him, and for you. 

And slowly, bit by bit, the wounds began to heal. 

It wasn’t linear. With Franco’s new contract, he had lots of attention and responsibilities. He was away from home more. He was tired, stressed, more short-tempered. There were arguments. Some days it felt like you took one step forward and two steps back. 

But you made it through. For every argument there was an honest conversation. For every night away there was a sweet gesture or text message to remind you that he still loved you, and from it grew a solid, blooming trust. For every mistake—on both ends—there was an apology and a commitment to be better. For every night of tears, there was a night of laughter with the man you loved most in the world. 

And by the end of the season, you and the relationship were stronger than ever. 

Of course, things weren’t perfect. But the fear that had once held you hostage was an adversary you knew you could overcome. 

Franco kept the ring in his nightstand. You had found it again one day while cleaning. It wasn’t really hidden, as if to say, we’ll get to this later. It was no secret now.  You just put it back in its place and smiled, going on about your day. 

But Franco had been giving the proposal much thought. He decided against inviting anyone again, wanting it to be a tender moment of vulnerability between you and him.

No, he wanted this time to be simple. Honest. 

He just hoped you were ready. 

A few weeks before the beginning of the next season, he took you out to the place where all this had begun; the outlook in the countryside, where he first told you that he wanted to marry you.

This time, he double and triple checked to make sure the ring was there in his pocket. 

The sun was setting over the Spanish countryside, painting the sky rich shades of orange and yellow. The air had cooled with the impending coming of night. 

He opened your car door and set up a blanket on the ground, where you sat and he laid his head in your lap, letting your fingers run through his hair as a way to calm his nerves. 

He took a deep breath as he sat up, and you knew what was coming. Again, he had rehearsed a speech, but almost instantly forgot it the second he opened his mouth. 

“YN,” he began, looking you directly in the eyes, “I… I love you. So much. More than words can say.” He was nervous, swallowing before he continued, letting his eyes wander off to the picturesque view. But he had more important things to be looking at. 

“I can’t imagine a version of my life without you in it. I grew up with you. I want to grow old with you. You’ve made me into the best version of myself. We’ve gone through so many things and come out on the other side so much stronger. And I want this,” he said, reaching out to wipe away the happy tears that now flowed down your cheeks. “I want to be with you. Even though we’re both imperfect, even though we both have our problems to work through, YN, I want to do this with you, forever. I want to fall asleep next to you and wake up next to you. I want to have children and grandchildren with you. I…” he trailed off, not knowing how to finally say what he really wanted to say.

You smiled through the tears. He reached into his pocket and pulled out the ring, flipping it open and showing it to you. 

“Marry me,” he whispered. 

Your smile widened. “Yes,” you answered. “Yes.” 

He kissed you with a fervent passion. When he pulled away, his smile couldn’t be contained.

“She said yes!” he cried out, though you both were alone. “I did it! She said yes!” You laughed at his antics.

In a few weeks, you’d have the official photo shoot where he got down on one knee. You’d show the world the carefully constructed version that was all they got to see.

But this was real. And maybe it was imperfect; maybe he hadn’t really asked, more instructed, and maybe he hadn’t gotten down on one knee, and maybe, yes, you had found the ring beforehand. 

But this was real. In all the ups and downs, the hurt and healing, this love you shared with your now fiance was real. The world didn’t get to see that. 

And maybe that fear was still within you. It was smaller now. And when you had seen that shine of the ring, maybe you had felt it rise within you again. But you knew now that it was just a feeling, something you could control. You didn’t have to ignore it or let it reign you. It was just there. 

It wasn't real though. And this was. The cold metal of the ring slid onto your finger. The feeling of Franco’s lips on yours. The strain in your face muscles from all the smiling. His hand around your waist, pulling you closer as the sun dipped below the sky, leaving you and your lover alone in the dark—yes, this was real. 

And this was yours; he was yours.

For the first time in a long time, you knew you had nothing to fear. 

[theemporium]

and to the poll voters who i thought i cheated you out of these two idiots, here they are!!

series masterlist

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“You know I love you, right?”

Max lifted his head when you stopped right in front of him. He raised his brows, leaning back in his seat on the couch as he took you in. You looked serious, which was only slightly unsettling, as you stood with your hands on your hips.

“Yes?” He said eventually, though it came out more like a question.

“And I only want what’s best for you. You know that, right?”

He frowned a little. “Yes. Although stressing me out with whatever you are going to say next doesn’t feel like it’s best for me…” 

“Okay, good. As long as you remember those things in a few minutes when you’re cursing me out,” you said with a nod, ignoring the discombobulated look on your husband’s face before you let out a sharp whistle. 

Max’s frown deepened. “What’s—”

However, he was promptly cut off when the door swung open and all three Leclerc brothers made their way into the flat. Max barely had a chance to acknowledge them before they were grabbing him—two on his legs and one on his arms—and carrying him out the house. 

“What the fuck?! Let me down!” 

“I’m sorry, baby!” You called out as you followed the four of them out of the house. “But this fear of the dentist can’t keep getting in the way of your health!”

Max’s struggles seemed to quicken at the mention of the dentist. “Baby—”

“Max, you know it’s for the best.”

And it was. He knew that. He knew that the second he was outside of the dental practice, there was little else he could do. But he would put on a great damn struggle until then, on the off chance he could escape and top up on the painkillers he had been having over the last week to numb the pain in his mouth.

…

“Do you think he will be mad at me?”

“He could never be mad at you,” Lorenzo assured you as he tugged you into his side. “You were doing what’s best for him. He knows that.”

“What if I broke his trust doing this and he never forgives me?” You continued, letting out a shaky breath. “He was just in so much pain and I couldn’t just sit there—”

“The man worships the ground you walk on,” Arthur pointed out. “He couldn’t even give you the silent treatment for longer than five minutes the last time he tried.”

But his words didn’t ease the tightness in your chest. “But what if—”

“He’s not going to break up with you over this,” Charles spoke up, a sincere understanding glimmering in his eyes that your other two brothers lacked. “He loves you far too much for that.” 

You nodded, opening your mouth to say something else but a voice interrupted. 

“Mrs Verstappen?”

You barely glanced back at your brothers as you followed the nurse through the dental practice. You nodded as you listened intently, taking in everything she said about how to best treat Max at home with painkillers and the healing process in general. 

You were about to ask a few more questions when you heard a familiar voice that made your stomach flip.

“WHERE’S MY WIFE? I WANT MY WIFE! BABY? WHERE ARE YOU?” 

Your cheeks burned as you shot the nurse an apologetic look before quickly rushing into the room, making your way towards Max as you tried to quieten him down. However, the second he noticed you, his face instantly lit up and he had little care in the world for anything else.

“Where have you been?” The words were muffled and slightly slurred, but the slight lisp made your smile widen. 

“Waiting for you,” you assured him as you took his hand, raising it to your lips to place a quick kiss on the back of his hand.

He stared at you blankly. “That’s not my lips.”

You snorted. “Your mouth is a bit too busy right now for me to kiss.”

Max frowned before he turned to the dentist. “Take these out right now! My wife won’t kiss me!”

Your eyes widened. “Max!” 

“No, I want kisses from my wife!” Max said, shaking his head before he tried to reach out and pull the gauze out himself.

“Looks like you’re gonna have a handful with him,” a nurse teased as she watched you grab both of his hands before he could rip his stitches open in his mouth.

You smiled. “Yeah but I wouldn’t have it any other way.”

“Because she loves me!” Max added. 

“I do.”

“Soooooo much!”

“That is also true.”

“She loves me so much that she even lets me—”

“Okay, that’s enough talking, babe!”

.

[athenamikaelson]

Klaus Mikaelson x Soulmate!Reader x Elijah Mikaelson Pt. 15

Word Count- 5.8k

Warnings- Swearing, violence, talks of bad mental health, mommy issues, robbing???

“Alastair talk to me, please! What is going on,” Tears roll down my face as Alastair speeds down the dark back roads of Mystic Falls. 

“I’m not supposed to talk to you about it,” Alastair’s gruff words escape his mouth and I look at him in confusion and anger.

“What the fuck do you mean you can’t talk to me about it? What is it? Because all I know is that my supposed friend somehow knows Klaus. The big bad wolf Klaus!”

My breathing is shallow and harsh as I look at my friend. Or not friend. I guess. Alastair’s hands grip the leather steering wheel, and I watch as he grinds his teeth together so hard that I almost believe his teeth will fall out if he does open his mouth.

“I. Can’t. Tell. You.”

Alastair’s words don’t stop the tears still streaming down my face. 

“What can you tell me then, huh? Was all of it a lie? Our friendship? Everything I confided in you about? Everything you told me about yourself? Huh,” My voice gets louder with every question, “Was all of it some stupid fucking lie, Alastair! Some sick fucked up way of Klaus getting into my head! I never did anything to the guy! So why me?!”

I jeer forward as the car comes to a screeching halt, “I said I can’t tell you! For fucks sake!”

I’m frozen in fear as I look at the black veins under Alastair’s eyes. Eyes that are now looking directly at me. Oh god.

“You’re a…”

“Vampire.”

—

BEEP BEEP

“What the hell,” I groan as I throw my hands over my ears to hide myself away from the stupid phone alarm. 

“Sorry,” Elena’s voice comes from beside me on the bed as I feel her move around. The buzzing continues for a moment before a click of Elena’s finger stops it.

“What time is it,” My morning voice comes out harsh.

“Five,” Elena’s sheepish voice responds and I let out a loud groan. 

“Elena, what the hell. Go back to sleep. We don’t have to be up for school for another 2 hours,” I try to reason with my friend but she’s already standing up.

“I can’t. Ric and I are sparring today. He’s going to teach me how to defend myself. Remember? I offered for you to join.”

I roll back over onto one of Elena’s spare pillows and close my eyes.

“Sleep. I need sleep.”

—

“You’re a… what do you mean you’re a vampire! You can’t be, you’re a bartender,” My voice is shaky as small sobs escape my mouth. Alastair watches me as I try to lean as far away from him as I possibly can in the tiny sports car.

“I didn’t realize I had to be one or the other,” His dry voice makes a nasty laugh escape me.

“You’re one of his aren’t you,” I bite at the reference to the devil himself. 

“I’m not his. But…” Alastair's eyes narrow as he rubs a hand over his face, “I’m loyal to him. You don’t understand Y/N.”

“Then help me understand Alastair! Because right now all I know is that you’ve lied to me this entire summer!”

“Just like you’ve lied to me about all your friends being supernatural,” Alastair responds accusingly, and clench my fists.

“That is not the same and you know it. I thought you were human! I was protecting you!”

“And I’m protecting you!”

I flinch back as Alastair yells and raises his hands in exhaustion. 

“Protecting me from what? And what does Klaus have to do with it?”

Alastair looks at me once more and then turns his attention to his hands. I shake my head in annoyance, “You can’t tell me,” I say copying his words from before.

“Take me to Elena’s.”

“Klaus said to-”

“Does it look like I give a flying fuck what Klaus, AKA Satan Incarnate, wants! Just take me to Elena’s,” A sob escapes my mouth and for a moment I think Alastair is going to continue driving me to my house but with a deep sigh he puts the car into drive and does a U-turn in the middle of the street back towards the Gilbert residence. 

We drive in silence for the next 10 minutes. The only thing being heard in the car is the sounds of my sniffles. 

Thankfully we reach the driveway and before Alastair can even put the car into park, I’m unbuckling my seatbelt and throwing myself out of the car. 

“Y/N! Wait,” Alastair’s voice calls from behind me as I quickly climb the stairs.

I jump back slightly as the porch light turns on and the front door opens to Jenna standing there in her fluffy purple robe. She’s standing defensibly as she holds a bat but as soon as she sees it’s me she drops it. 

“Y/n? What’s wrong,” Jenna asks me in a mother-like tone.

“Y/n, would you just wait for a second,” Alastair's voice gets closer.

“Leave me alone!”

Jenna seems confused as to why Alastair and I are fighting. Probably because we’ve been attached at the hip all summer. But that doesn’t stop her from opening up the door and letting me run into her arms. 

“Jenn, what’s going on,” Ric comes down the stairs hastily. At the sight of my tear-stained face, his hunter's instinct seems to kick in as he rushes over to both myself and his girlfriend. 

“Go away, Alastair,” I turn one last time to the almost upset-looking man standing on the porch. 

Ric pushes both Jenna and I behind him as he stares down Alastair. 

“I think it’s best if you leave now,” Ric and Alastair stare each other down for a moment before Alastair looks around at me.

“I’ll see you soon.”

—-

“Y/n,” I feel a shove to my shoulder and I press my face harder into the soft duvet, “Y/n! Wake up we’re going to be late!”

“Late for what mom,” I groan into my pillow and I hear Elena’s laugh from above me.

“For the first day of Senior year. You know if we’re not there on time Caroline will march herself over here,” At the mention of the blonde I instantly sit up straight. So fast in fact, that Elena quickly takes a step back so we don’t hit heads.

“Weren’t you going to go fight with Ric or something,” I say as I rub the sleep from my eyes and watch my friend put her books into her backpack. 

“I already did,” She laughs to herself, “You’ve been sleeping the entire time. Now get up and get dressed. Jenna made pancakes and Jeremy and Theo are going to eat them all if we don’t get down there.”

I sigh deeply as I throw my legs over Elena’s bed, the one I’ve been sleeping in for the past three days since Alastair dropped me off here. 

“I think our brothers are dating,” I jokingly say out loud and Elena stops for a moment and thinks to herself before nodding along with me.

“Ya, you’re probably right. Should we tell Bonnie,” I roll my eyes at my friend’s question and put my feet into the bunny slippers Jenna bought for me yesterday. 

“I think she already knows,” I stand up and walk past her to the small duffle bag that’s comprised of everything I’d need for my week-long sleepover at the Gilbert’s. I head into the bathroom and start changing and getting ready for the day.

“You really don’t mind me staying here,” I yell loud enough so Elena can hear me through the door.

“Of course not,” She responds earnestly, “Besides, you’re not the only one who needs the company.”

At her response, I sigh deeply and then look at myself in the bathroom mirror. I’d be repulsed and surprised by my appearance if I hadn’t already been like this for the past three days. Dark circles take up half my face, a face that looks like it hasn’t seen the sun in twenty years and I think I’ve started to lose weight, hence the hollowness of my cheeks. It’s been hard to sleep or eat these past few days because every second I’m picturing the dark veins under Alastair’s eyes, the sounds of Dana and Chad dying, and the victorious smirk on Klaus’ face. The latter who we’ve thankfully not heard anything about since that night at the school.

“Y/n! You ready?”

I try to dab some concealer and blush onto my face but alas I still look like a dead person. Ironically kind of like half the population of Mystic Falls since Klaus came to town. 

“Ya, let’s do this,” I open the door and try to smile at my best friend. 

—

“Here we are. Senior year,” Caroline says breathlessly as she, Bonnie, Elena, and I stand in the parking lot of the school.

“Yippee,” I say under my breath sarcastically and I hear Elena laugh. 

“Anyone else think this should feel slightly more empowering,” Bonnie asks and I have to fight back a yawn.

Caroline throws her hands up as none of us say anything, “Okay, so prank night was a bust but we are accepting it and we are moving on.”

“Dana and Chad can’t move on,” I bite and then quickly cringe when I realize how nasty that came out.

“Sorry,” I wince and Caroline sighs and places a hand on my shoulder.

“I know. And what happened was horrible, but we need to try to push past it,” She smiles at me but I can’t seem to find the strength to return it. How are we just supposed to push past the fact that two innocent teenagers were ruthlessly murdered? 

“You’re right,” Bonnie tries to lighten the mood as we start walking towards the school, “I mean, why should I let the fact that my boyfriend is seeing the ghost of his dead girlfriends hinder this experience?”

“And the fact he’s dating my brother,” I say under my breath and Bonnie shoots me a confused look. 

Caroline looks at me oddly before shaking her head, “Anyways…Yes, and why should I let the fact that my boyfriend was turned into a hybrid put a damper on an otherwise fabulous day.”

“Sure, and why should I let the fact that my friend ended up being a henchman of the devil himself, who for some reason likes to terrorize me,” I sarcastically say out loud and Bonnie and Caroline both cringe at the mention of Alastair. Two days ago they came over to the Gilbert’s and I filled them in on everything. 

“Today’s our anniversary,” Elena’s voice makes Caroline, Bonnie, and I halt, “Technically, Stefan and I met on the first day of school last year.”

“Yeah, you win,” Caroline says and I fight the urge to roll my eyes because an anniversary doesn’t really seem to be the worst thing that’s happened so far, but whatever.

“Can’t we just go home? Come back tomorrow. Or just drop out,” I try to reason but Elena grabs my shoulder and shakes her head.

“Nope. We’re doing this. We’re putting it behind us and becoming new people. New year. New life.”

I raise an eyebrow at my friend’s sappy words, “Ya. Okay. I guess.”

—

“Theo says he doesn't have a pencil. So I’m going to go meet him and then I’ll see you guys in class,” I tell Elena who shoots me an odd look.

“Doesn’t have a pencil? It’s the first day of school.”

I just shrug. Not really surprised at my brother’s lack of planning, “He does this. I’ll see you soon,” I wave to her and walk towards the cafeteria where I’m expected to meet my brother. 

Right as I turn a corner though I’m knocked into a hard chest.

“Ouch, I’m so sor-”

My words stop as I look up to the person I bumped into and freeze when I meet Alastair’s deep brown eyes. Compared to me, Alastair looks as pristine and gorgeous as ever. But I guess when you’re an immortal being, eyebags aren’t something you really have to worry about. He’s a dark black top that I’m sure is designer and brand new-looking lacks and loafers. 

“Y/n, good morning,” Alastair says in a soft voice as if we’re the best of friends still.

“What the hell are you doing here,” I growl at him and Alastair shoots me a confused look.

“I’m a student here, remember?”

I shake my head in annoyance, “You’re also a vampire,” I whisper-yell out the word so passersby don’t think I’m crazy, “You don’t go to school.”

“Stefan, Caroline and now Tyler do. So why can’t I,” He asks and I open and close my mouth about a hundred time trying to find an answer. 

“That’s not the same!”

Alastair smirks, “And why isn’t”

I raise my hands trying to find a reason and practically growl when I can’t think of one, “How old are you anyway? I bet you’re old. Why would someone old want to come to high school? It’s not like the movies, where everyone breaks out into song and dance. It actually fucking sucks! So just do everyone a favor and leave!”

I look around to see that some people have started watching us because of my little outburst. At the onslaught of eyes, my hands start to shake and I bite down hard on my lower lip.

“What the hell are you staring at,” Alastair’s once calm voice darkens as he growls out to the students. The latter quickly move on at the harsh look and words. 

Alastair looks back at me and his harsh look returns to a calm one so fast I think it’s going to give me whiplash. 

“I’m here for you,” He says matter-of-factly, “And to answer your other question I’m 645 years old.”

I blink. And blink. And then blink again. 

“You’re…”

Alastair smiles at me, “Old. Ya.”

“Y/N! Bless your kind and spirited heart for blessing me on this wonderful Monday morning,” Theo’s overdramatic voice pulls me from my stupor as I’m being slightly pulled back by my bag. 

I turn over my shoulder and see Theo unzipping and then going through my backpack.

“You got any drugs in here,” His question makes me shoot him a glare and he laughs.

“Joking! Kinda. Anyways, I have football practice after school so don’t wait up for me,” He finally pulls out a handful of pencils and I realize I’m definitely going to have to stock up since I know he’s going to lose them all by next week. 

“Oh hey, Alex,” Theo waves to Alastair and then puts a hand on my head, and then pats me like a dog. 

“Bye, my favorite nerd.”

I watch annoyed as my little brother practically skips down the hall, shooting fist bumps at other guys and winking at passing girls. 

“He does know my name isn’t Alex right,” Alastair questions and I laugh.

“I don’t think he cares,” I turn around and am about to smile along with him but instantly stop when I remember that we’re not actually friends. At least not anymore. 

“Just leave me alone, Alastair. I don’t want you here,” I walk past him and make my way down the hall towards Alaric’s classroom. Sadly though I hear Alastair’s expensive shoes behind me. 

“You have Ric’s class? Great! So don’t I,” He says as he easily catches up to me and walks beside me until we get to the classroom. 

As soon as we enter Ric shoots me a nervous look and I shrug, not really knowing what to do. Alastair was old, really old. If he wanted to kill us we wouldn’t be able to stop him. I quickly shoot down in the seat in front of Elena who looks at me with the same look as Ric. Caroline, who is currently shooting daggers at Alastair, sits beside her. Alastair sits down unphased in the seat on my right and I freeze when I turn to the person behind him. Yoda. Well, technically Ripper Stefan now. 

“Nice to see you, Y/n. I’ve missed you,” Stefan’s sarcastic words don’t seem to phase me as I glare at him.

“I wish all the vampires in this town would just die. For real,” I hear an insulted gasp from behind me and I turn back to Caroline, “Not you though.”

Caroline nods her head apporvingly. 

“Welcome back, seniors,” Ric’s voice turns my attention to the front of the classroom, “Let’s, uh, turn our brains back on starting with, uh, this country’s original founders the Native Americans.”

“What about the Vikings?’’

The British voice sends chills down my spine as a wave of nausea washes through me. Flashes of prank night cloud my vision and the smell of blood fills my nose.

“Well, there’s no evidence that Viking explorers actually settled in the United States,” Ric tells Rebekah as I watch in horror as she plants herself into the seat on my left. 

“Who are you?”

Rebekah smiles up at Ric, “My name is Rebekah. I’m new and history is my favorite subject.”

I bite down hard on my lip as Rebekah turns her head and looks at me. A sickeningly sweet smile comes onto her face as she sends me a small wave. I quickly whip my head forward at Ric who looks just as clueless as everyone else. New year, new me, my ass.

—

Adjusting my reading glasses, I place my book down on the grass momentarily. Caroline stands about 10 feet away with the other cheerleaders as they stretch before practice. Elena is also out here, but she’s on the track running. She had invited me to go running with her but I just laughed in her face thinking she was joking. When I realized she was indeed actually asking me, I once again laughed in her face and then told her to have fun and I’d be sitting on the grass reading my book. 

So for the past 15 minutes, that’s what I’ve been doing. Or at least have been trying. With the loud cheering music, the sounds of footballers hitting one another, and the hard-ass ground I’m sitting on, it’s been kind of hard to focus. 

“What are you doing here?”

Caroline’s angry voice has me perking up my head as I look up and surprisingly see Rebekah stretching next to her. 

“Sounds like you have an opening on the squad,” Rebekah says and Caroline glares at her and then looks over at me quickly. 

“Actually that spot just got filled,” Rebekah follows Care’s eyeline to me and we both have a confused look on our faces.

“Excuse me,” I question my friend and she walks over to me.

“Ya! Y/n is actually on the team now,” Caroline says matter-of-factly and I cringe at the thought.

“Ya Caroline,” I get her attention and she hums, “I can’t join. One because I literally would rather die, and two because gun shot to the shoulder remember?”

I gesture to my shoulder and Caroline opens and closes her mouth and then rolls her eyes in defeat before going back into line. 

“You were shot?”

I frown as Rebekah almost sounds caring as she asks me. She has a weary expression on her face and I glare at her. 

“You,” Caroline points at Rebekah, “Don’t talk to her. Why are you here?”

Rebekah leans down to stretch ignoring the blonde vamp.

“Hey,” Caroline prods, “Hey.”

Rebekah stands up and stares at my friend and honestly, I wish I had some popcorn to watch what’s about to go down. 

“You can’t just come here and infiltrate all of our lives.”

“I’m only interested in yours,” Rebekah says snarkily, “Your spunk, your popularity,” She looks over at Tyler who is running drills next to Theo, and then back to me, “Maybe even your boyfriend and best friend?”

“Oh, no she didn’t,” I ooh at them and Caroline glares at me. I cringe and pretend to go back to reading. I’m totally still watching both of them over my book though.

Rebekah walks away from Caroline but not before sending me a smile, one that I don’t return. Caroline looks at me like she doesn’t know what to do and I just shrug because I honestly don’t know either. 

Caroline walks off and I try to go back to my book but right when I’m about to focus the sound of a whistle is blown.

“Oh! Come on!”

I frustratedly watch as the football coach dismisses the football players way too early. Strange. And it’s not long before Theo is running up to me. 

“What’s up bitch,” He gests as he looks down at me. 

“I’ve told you not to call me that,” I sniff and then cover my nose in disgust, “You stink dude. God damn.”

My brother sniffs the air and then smirks, “That’s the smell of your boy making first string this fall. And, you call me a dumbass, so why can’t I call you bitch. Also, it’s not like I’m doing it deragotivly. I’m a feminist you know. I loveeee women.”

“There’s so much to unpack with what you just said,” I reach my hand up and Theo takes it and pulls me up. Careful to not pull too hard on my shoulder, “I call you a dumbass because you are a dumbass.”

Theo thinks to himself for a moment before smirking again, “A handsome dumbass.”

“You stress me out,” I groan as we start walking towards the school.

“And yet you can’t live without me.”

— 

Elena pulls her car into my Theo and I’s driveway and I sigh deeply when I see my mother's car parked in the driveway.

“You sure you’ll be alright? You can just come back to mine. I really don’t mind,” Elena tells me from her seat and I heavily debate the idea before shaking my head.

“I can’t live in your bed forever. Besides, if I stay over too long Theo will have questions. Questions I’m not ready or even sure how to answer.”

Elena nods solemnly as I open the door and get out. 

“Well, call me if you need anything alright,” I nod at her request, “I’ll see you tonight at the fire. Don’t be late or you’ll have Caroline to speak to.”

I flinch at the idea of making the already pissed-off blonde mad and nod. I give Elena a wave and slowly trudge my way up the stairs. I quietly open the front door, hoping my mother is on some business call and doesn’t realize I’m here.

“Y/n? Is that you?”

Damnit.

“Uh, ya. It’s me,” I clench my jaw as my mother enters the living room. She looks me over as if I’m just going to disappear. Which right now I wish I would. 

“I didn’t know when you’d be coming back,” She says in a hopeful voice that irks me. 

“Ya, I didn’t either,” We stand in silence for a moment before I start walking to my room, “I have to get ready for the bonfire tonight.”

“Wait!’’

My mother’s voice has me stopping in place and staring at the wall in front of me. I wait for her to speak and for a moment I don’t think she’s going to.

“I miss you,” Her strained voice has my eyes instantly tearing up, “I miss hearing you here. Laughing into your books, or hearing your music play in your room. Besides Theo, it’s so quiet here. You seemed so happy. I’m so sorry I changed that.”

Her apology and words have me clenching my fists in anger, “Happy? Happy! Do you really think I was happy? Mom, I was miserable! The only reason I was in my room reading my books and listening to my music was because I had nothing else! Nothing else to laugh about or smile about. And honestly, I’m not even surprised you never noticed either of those things since you were always gone,” I glare at my mother who is now crying at my confession, “You’re too busy focusing on your clients that you never even noticed your own daughter drowning in her head right in front of you. So no, I don’t want your apology. Because what’s done is done. ”

Without another word, I turn around and walk to my room, slamming my door behind me. 

—

“I’ll lure Stefan away from the bonfire then when he’s distracted…”

“I’ll shoot him,” Ric finishes off Elena’s sentence. 

I watch from my desk as the Scooby Gang try to come up with a plan to subdue Stefan at tonight’s bonfire. 

“Can’t Bonnie just juju him or something,” Damon questions. He’s currently sitting on top of my desk. 

“I’m trying to keep Bonnie out of this. I don’t trust that Stefan won’t hurt her,” Elena reasons and I nod.

“If Stefan tries to hurt my girl he’s going to have another thing coming to him,” I say as I pull out both of my fists. Damon looks down at me and rolls his eyes dramatically and pushes my fists back down. 

“Put those away, Rocky. You’re staying away from Stefan as well tonight.”

“Excuse me?”

“Caroline, are you covered,” Elena asks the blonde vamp.

“Yes! I will make sure that the old Forbes jail cell is prepped and ready.”

“We’re forgetting a key player here. Rebekah? Wherever Stefan goes, the blonde ponytail tends to follow.”

At Damon’s mention of the blonde, I growl under my breath.

“Which is why it’s your job to keep her away,” Elena answers him.

“How? She’s an original. The last time I checked, we were out of daggers.”

“We could always wake Elijah up,” I say a little too quickly, and everyone in the room deadpans me, “Ok…guess not.”

“So then preoccupy her with your charm,” Elena says and I snort out a laugh.

“Might have better luck finding the dagger,” Ric says and my snorting gets louder.

“Sorry, I’m late. What’s going on?”

Tyler entering the room turns everyone’s attention and I use this to try to sneak Damon’s wallet out of his pants pocket. 

They’re all conversing and I’m about to get it but Damon stands up from his seat and the wallet falls out onto the floor in front of me. Damon seems to be entranced with whatever everyone is talking about to notice so I quickly lean down and grab the wallet. I smirk evilly to myself as I see the wad of bills and quickly grab some and put them in the pocket of my sweatshirt. I loud gasp jolts me and I drop the wallet.

“I didn’t do anything!”

I freeze and see Tyler on the floor unconscious with Damon over him.

“What are you doing?”

Caroline runs over to her boyfriend”

“He’s been sired,” Damon says as he stares down at the boy. 

“What,” Ric asks speaking for all of us.

“Sired. He feels loyal to Klaus because Klaus’ blood created him.”

“Uh oh,” I whisper as I slide the wallet onto the desk in front of me. 

“Loyal how?”

“He’ll seek acceptance from his master. It’s really rare, but maybe not so much in hybrids.”

Caroline looks up to Damon, “So how do we fix him?”

“Get a new boyfriend.”

—

“Just stay behind me and try not to go anywhere with Stefan alone ok?”

Elena’s worrisome expression makes me sigh, “I’ll be fine Elena. No pissing off Yoda. I got it. He’s not the only vamp I’m trying to hide from tonight.”

I cautiously look around the woods where dozens of teenagers drink and party to loud music. Thankfully, no signs of Alastair.

Elena and I approach She-Klaus and Non-Yoda who are standing next to a keg. Elena grabs the beer in Stefan’s hands and chugs it. Okay then. 

“Elena, Y/n, hi. What are you guys doing?”

“We’re having fun Stefan,” Elena hands me a beer but I reject it, “You have a problem with that?”

“Alright, take it easy,” Stefan says as Elena drinks another beer, “We both know you’re kind of a lightweight.”

Elena coughs, “Really? You think I’m going to let a blood addict tell me how to drink?”

A loud laugh leaves my lips at my friends comment, “She got you there man.”

Elena grabs my hand, drops her empty cup at Stefan’s feet, and leads us away from the two vampires.

“How much of a lightweight are you exactly?”

My question has Elena cringing, “Let’s just say tonight is going to be rough.”

—

I’m peacefully enjoying the quietness next to the fire when an annoying voice comes from behind me. 

“You know when my family and I were humans, once a month before the full moon our village would throw parties like this to celebrate,” I release a groan and stand up when I see Rebekah approach me. 

She instantly stands in front of me and raises her hands in surrender, “Please don’t go,” Her earnest voice stops me, “I’m not going to hurt you.”

“I find that hard to believe,” I bite out.

“You don’t like me yet. And I understand why. You’re loyal to your friends. But I think you and I are going to be great friends one day.”

Rebekah’s words make me frown, “And why is that?”

Rebekah sits down on the log I was previously sitting on and she pats the spot next to her. I sigh as I sit down, much to her enjoyment. 

“I can’t tell you yet. But, I just know.”

I groan at those words, “Do all of you Mikaelsons just love using that phrase?”

Rebekah’s eyes narrow in question, “All?”

“Ya, you and Elijah. He’s said that to me like fifty-seven times.”

“You’ve met Elijah?”

I nod and look at the fire, “Uh, ya. Once or twice.”

I see Rebekah frown next to me and her face appears next to mine as she looks at my face, “Why are you doing that?”

“Dude you really have to work on personal space. And what am I doing?”

Rebekah points to my face, “You’re blushing! Why are you blushing when talking about Elijah? You’re not supposed to be blushing!”

My eyes go wide at her accusation, “I am not blushing! And certainly not because of Elijah! I don’t even think of the guy.”

Rebekah shoves her finger at me, “Liar! Your heart just skipped! Elijah not supposed to be the one making you blush.”

“What the hell is that supposed to mean?”

Rebekah sits back and shrugs, “Nothing.”

“Rebekah! Seriously!”

We both stare at each other for a moment before I sigh and fall into my hands. I groan out in pain though when I put too much pressure on my shoulder.

“You’re hurt?”

I sit up and gently rub my shoulder, “I’m fine.”

“You mentioned earlier that you got shot. How did it happen?”

I look at the girl uneasily and for a moment I don’t see the Orignal vampire but a regular teenager. 

“The sheriff shot me when she was trying to shoot Damon.”

“And I’m guessing that is now a dead sheriff,” Rebekah says and I frown and shake my head. 

“No, of course not. It’s Caroline’s mother.”

“I don’t see how that matters. Especially when my brother finds out.”

“Elijah?”

Rebekah rolls her eyes, “You need to stop thinking about Elijah. It’ll only hurt you. I’m talking about Klaus.”

I shake my head in confusion, “What do you mean Klaus? Why would he give a damn?”

Rebekah’s eyes go wide and she clamps her mouth shut.

“Seriously!”

“Just heed my warning alright. Stay away from Elijah. For my family's sake and yours.”

An uneasiness washes over me, and then I sigh when Damon Salvawhore walks over to us.

“Hello, ladies.”

“And that’s my cue to leave,” I stand up and begin walking away but am pulled back by a hand grabbing my own. 

I look down and see Rebekah staring up at me, “I meant what I said about us becoming friends, Y/n.”

I stare at her for a moment before nodding and walking away from the two vampires. 

—

“Where do you think you’re going,” Alastair’s voice halts me and I grit my teeth.

“Of course you’re here,” I don’t turn around and look at him, I just continue walking.  

The vampire doesn’t get the hint the as he catches up to me easily and walks beside me. 

“Where are you going?”

“Leave me alone.”

“Y/n. Where are you going?”

I ignore him as I keep walking but a hand to the arm pulls me back lightly. I turn around and quickly pull my arm from Alastair’s grasp as I glare at him. 

“Don’t! Don’t you dare touch me! Just leave me alone,” I yell at him and he shakes his head.

“I told you I can’t do that,” His answer has me practically growling at him. 

“Oh ya, because you’re Klaus’ little bitch. I remember.”

I whip back around and continue walking.

“I am not his bitch,” Alastair says from my side.

“You follow his orders and listen to what he tells you. Kinda sounds like what someone's bitch would do.”

I hear a low growl escape Alastair’s mouth.

“Just tell me where you’re going.”

“It’s none of your business.”

“If you’re going to find Elena she’s already gone home.”

At his words, I halt.

“What?”

“Elena and Ric took Stefan away.”

I close my eyes and sigh. Great. 

“And how would you know that?”

“I was trying to find you and came across them taking an unconscious Stefan away.”

I raise my eyebrows in surprise since that means our plan actually worked. It never works. 

“And I bet now you’re going to run off and tell Klaus his precious boy toy has been compromised,” I bite out as I turn towards the parking lot. If Elena isn’t here anymore than I’m leaving. 

“Nope,” Alastair says popping the p.

I stop and turn to him in surprise, “No? Why not?”

“For one, I’m not his bitch. And two, my orders are to watch over you, nothing else. What your friends do in there past times is none of my concern. Well, as long as it doesn’t hurt or endanger you in the process.”

“Wait…hurt or endanger?”

I watch Alastair tense up as he realizes he slipped up.

“You’re here to protect me?”

Alastair doesn’t say anything as he looks down at his shoes.

“Alastair!”

“I’ve already said too much,” He throws his hands up and I roll my eyes and continue walking. Thankfully my car comes into sight and I march towards it.

“Where are you going?” “If you truly must know home. I’m going the fuck home,” I bite out as I use my key thob to unlock my car door.

“Are you and your mother still fighting?”

I pause my hand on the car door.

“That’s none of your business.”

I throw open my car door and step inside. I don’t look at the vampire as I slam the car door shut and turn the car on. 

I’m just about to peel away when Alastair says one last thing to me.

“Our friendship wasn’t a lie to me.”