#the way she says just be there is so heartbreaking

[cherie-doll]

COD men’s reaction to their daughter having a boyfriend?

heh

༢ུ· Price, Ghost, Soap, Gaz, Roach, Alejandro, Rudy, Phillip Graves, Makarov, Keegan, König, Horangi, Nikto

۶ৎ Price...

It wouldn't ONLY be Price worrying over who this new boy in his daughter's life was, it's the entire task force that is there against Price's wishes, and that's only because he HAPPENED to open his big mouth and spill the beans on his daughter dating

Simply shakes his head, pinching the bridge of his nose as the backup team of Ghost, Gaz and Soap walk in, heck even Laswell is on the line calling Price giving him "advice"

I can imagine Price telling his daughter to leave the room once you're all settled in, and you just raise an eyebrow and give him a look like asking "what's going on?", he tells you to leave too and the boyfriend is sitting there, confused, palms sweaty as Price readjusts in his seat clearing his throat and saying "let's get one thing straight"

He really just wanted to set some things straight, but poor boy thought he was about to get kicked out or beaten because this is a man who's been in the military for years, not to mention the big buff guys who keep peeking over the corner with a menacing look every once in a while

Afterwards, you come around to Price asking what he told the boy, surely he didn't scare him away, right? He didn't, only told him to treat his daughter well and there wouldn't be any problems

۶ৎ Ghost...

Would be super protective, well what parent wouldn't? but he's on a different level, and both you and your daughter knew this, so your daughter tried finding a good moment to introduce the boyfriend

She let him know ahead of time so the initial shock response happened before he was able to get his hands on the poor young man dating your daughter, when the moment came Simon couldn't even sit still

He was standing, arms crossed as he leaned against the doorframe between the kitchen and living room when his daughter walked in with her boyfriend, staring daggers into the back of his head

Simon would never tell his daughter to break up or leave a boy she was into, but he would definitely warn her to be cautious, he just doesn't want her to be hurt, and God forbid THAT happen

He would go to whatever lengths necessary to keep that from happening, a heavy hand on the boyfriend's shoulder every time he comes to pick her up for a date, a subtle way of reminding him who's he dealing with

Surely, he wouldn't make a careless mistake while dating Simon's daughter

۶ৎ Soap...

He shares the same excitement as his daughter when she announces she's been asked out, he's happy for his girl, he's always seeking what's best for her and hopes she's happy, but when that initial enthusiasm wears off... he realizes he knows nothing about who asked his daughter out

Then, you have to hold him back from bombarding your daughter with questions, he'd annoy her real fast and that would only make her clam up and not reveal any information

He's worried about the type of guy who attracted his daughter, what if it was a criminal? Someone who could ruin her, do more harm than good? What if it didn't work out? What if it ended in heartbreak-

You have to knock some sense into him before he gets ahead of himself, if you were patient and kept your cool, your daughter would reveal all the details necessary herself without having to pry much and make it feel like an interrogation

He actually gets along quite well with his daughter's boyfriend once they get to know each other, they are obnoxious together and it annoys the hell out of not only you but your daughter too when they both end up spending more time together on Sundays

۶ৎ Gaz...

He was cooking breakfast when his daughter waltzed in, spinning and holding her phone close to her chest, Kyle smiled as he flipped a pancake, "And what's got you smiling like that?", he expected it to be something a teen her age would be giddy about, a band she liked coming to town? New episode of her favorite show released?

None of that turns out she's seeing a guy and he just asked her to be his girlfriend, when I tell you this man's jaw DROPPED and you had to call his name multiple times to bring him back to earth, "Honey...Kyle? The pancakes are burning"

You hugged your daughter and he did the same but as soon as she went back to her room he turned to you, whisper-yelling "Did I hear that right?", and you have to remind him it's normal for teens to start having an interest in dating

He truly is happy for his daughter, he just can't help but be a little worried, he'd hate for someone to break her vulnerable heart, but you bet he'd be very attentive and patient when his daughter wants to rant or has her first breakup

I don't think he'd be overly jealous, he'd only go on full dad mode if someone is selfish and hurts his daughter or tries forcing her to do something she doesn't want to, which is why he constantly sets an example with how he treats you so his daughter won't stand any bullshit her boyfriend tries to pull

۶ৎ Roach...

He'd probably just be shocked, not understanding entirely what his daughter just announced to the both of you, a boyfriend?! but wasn't it just yesterday that he was taking her elementary school? Roach hasn't realized how fast time flies, surely his daughter meant a boy FRIEND

He's quickly proven wrong when she calls out a name he hasn't heard before, and walking in is a young man the same age as his daughter, who comes to place an arm around her and introduce himself

oh, Roach couldn't mistake that look he just saw on his daughter's face, her eyes gleaming and bright as she looked up at her boyfriend

He greets the boyfriend but will then sit quietly and observe the entire time he's there, analyzing every move and sentence that comes out of that boy's mouth, he has a real knack for deciphering people's underlying intentions that you trust his instincts if he says either there is no malice detected from his daughter's boyfriend or if he senses something wrong

He mostly lets you handle this one because he doesn't know much about how kids date nowadays and lets you give advice instead

۶ৎ Alejandro...

He used to sometimes tense up whenever his relatives or someone would joke about his daughter growing up and having a partner, whenever it was brought up at a function he'd simply say nothing and continue to drink his beer quietly

Well his little girl did grow up and she kept the relationship somewhat of a secret for a while, afraid of what her dad's reaction would be, you had to be the one to sit him down and tell him while your daughter nervously waited in her room only for his reaction to be much better than you anticipated, hugged his daughter saying how happy he was to hear that

Still, sometimes he seemed to forget that the guy his daughter frequently brought around was her boyfriend because he kept referring to him as "ese amiguito tuyo" ("that little friend of yours")

Would make him do manual labor whenever your daughter brought her boyfriend around, Alejandro would ask him to help mow the lawn, or clean out the gutters with him, maybe help him finish building something and meanwhile they would have casual conversation

Overall, the boyfriend grew on Alejandro more and more that at this point he was considered a son and part of the family

۶ৎ Rudy...

He is very close with his daughter and has constantly been there for her in moments when she was a vulnerable teen, and he showered her with love and praise when she achieved her goals and accomplishments, he never had a reason to show hostility when she came home from college announcing that she had been in a relationship for a few months and wanted to introduce her boyfriend

Rudy couldn't help but feel just a little worried but he tried his best to keep those doubts hidden as to not come off as unwelcoming or controlling when he shook the hand of the man who had swept his daughter off her feet

I think Rudy was more worried about how he was acting in front of them that he even asked if he was balanced in his thoughts, you had to remind him that it was normal to worry about who your children chose to date, you had spent years raising and protecting them after all, but the fact that he was conscious of this proved how even now he put his daughter's wishes ahead of his own worries

He treated his daughter's boyfriend like a second son and always reminded his daughter how proud he was of her, he wished her all the happiness in the world in this new chapter of her life, it reminded him of when you and him started dating <3

۶ৎ Phillip Graves...

Who could be worthy of dating his daughter? The daughter of a commander? He had given her everything she wished for and more, was his daughter so sure she wanted to date so soon? Not that he was against it, he just sort of had high expectations

Phillip would have preferred if it had been someone he already knew, maybe one of his Shadow's children who were around the same age as his daughter, because then he already knew their family, etc...

But this introduction of someone new had him alert, he was ready to do anything in favor of his daughter if they made her upset, turns out he had nothing to worry about because his daughter was dating a nerd, what her boyfriend lacked in social skills he excelled in academics and personality, not to say he treated her like Phillip had always accustomed his daughter to being treated

The same delicate attention and sincerity, Phillip liked that right away and was always asking his daughter when she'd invite her boyfriend over again

Next thing you knew, Phillip would gladly tell anyone willing to listen how his daughter was not only the best daughter he had but he now also had a great future son-in-law

۶ৎ Makarov...

Uhmm, he would be VERY well informed of any guy that would show interest in his daughter, probably senses it before the daughter even develops strong feelings for the interested guy

He has his ways of finding out everything on the guy, his background, family, financial status, his connections... everything, and imagine the reaction of his daughter when she finds out what her dad's been up to in his free time, she would freak out and demand for him to stop

They argue nonstop for hours, going back and forth until finally they make a deal, he stops "stalking" her boyfriend if she agrees to introduce the boyfriend to Makarov soon, they both agree and a date and time is set

You're with Makarov at the restaurant they agreed to meet up, and you're reminding Makarov to be reasonable while you wait for your daughter and her boyfriend to arrive

Makarov is looking down, fiddling with the eating utensils on the table as he breathes through his nose, you think he's too mad to respond to you but he gives in and nods, you smile and press a tender kiss to his cheek which seems to lighten his face up, a smile appearing on his lips

But that smile quickly disappears when he looks up to meet his daughter's boyfriend, this will be a long evening for him...

۶ৎ Keegan...

Keegan thinks that the young man who's knocking on your front door is a salesman or someone coming to offer their services, he's dressed sort of nice so Keegan is kind in turning him away, "Sorry, Kid. I'm not buying anything you've come to sell" and he's about to close the door when his daughter comes quickly, "Dad! That's my boyfriend"

Boyfriend? "Since when-" And he's left standing there, dumbfounded as you come to the rescue and welcome the boy in, you have to nudge Keegan with your elbow to remind him to be polite

He used to always say he'd come out with a gun to run off any guy who tried to bother his daughter but this caught him completely off guard, Keegan ends up not being able to find anything offensive or rude about his daughter's boyfriend to use against him so he has to come to terms with the fact that he's fine with it and lets them be

Your daughter secretly knew this which is why she wasn't as worried when inviting her boyfriend over, didn't tell Keegan and only let you know because she knew he'd take it better if he wasn't expecting anyone

۶ৎ König...

"Is it not too young-" You stop him there before he can say anything more, your daughter had just interrupted you reading and König just so happened to be around to hear when your daughter mentioned a guy

He doesn't understand that some start dating in their teens or as young adults because he never really gave it much thought when he was that age, he assumed everyone else was like that

He doesn't know how to react when there's a guy just there, suddenly and shaking his hand, König is too immersed in his thoughts to notice how nervous the guy is as he looks up at the intimidating height of König, he could easily be snapped in half, and he thought he was tall...

Your daughter's boyfriend also isn't used to how silent König gets sometimes, so he's sitting there worried and shaking thinking he said or did something wrong for his girlfriend's father to just be dead silent, not directing a word to him but instead muttering under his breath

König is just trying to think of what to ask, because in situations like these he needs to find out stuff about his daughter's boyfriend, right?

۶ৎ Horangi...

This man is not taking it seriously, at all, now is not the time to bring up an old video he had taken when his daughter was five years old saying how she wasn't ever going to marry or like a boy

He's clowning her with his video he somehow still had saved while your daughter just sits there like -_-, you have to try and convince him to put the phone away before the waiter at the restaurant you're at comes over to ask him to leave for disrupting the other customers

He unintentionally interrupts their dates or when they're having a moment by calling his daughter on her phone or if they're at your house he comes around to the living room to watch tv even though they were trying to have a conversation in that room

So you have to constantly keep him distracted and occupied or else he'll want to go join his daughter and her boyfriend because he thinks whatever they're doing is a lot more fun and he thinks it's back like when his daughter was a little girl and was always inviting him to play games together

۶ৎ Nikto...

While he couldn't ever be bothered to pay attention at the dinner table when his daughter mentioned having a new crush at school, Nikto became a lot more serious when your daughter brought over a guy for dinner, who is this boy and what's he doing sitting and eating in his house?

He's confused to see the that who his daughter spent evenings talking to on the phone is this ordinary guy eating beside him, Nikto looks over to you and notices how attentive you are to everything the boy is saying, you smile and nod endlessly and he wonders if he should be doing the same

But with the scar on his lip it's hard to make it seem as pleasant as yours, he focuses on just listening and eating in silence, once the boy leaves he asks who that was, a partner his daughter brought to work on something school related? "No, Nikto. That's her boyfriend" HER WHAT-

Suddenly, he wishes he would have tuned in a little sooner when he had noticed the boy, Nikto simply turns to your daughter, "Does he treat you well?" She meekly answers yes and Nikto shrugs, "No problems, we're good" and he leaves for his nap

[cressidagrey]

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

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

Summary:

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

Warnings and Notes: 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“How bad?” She brought out weakly.

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

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

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

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

“How many?” She asked weakly.

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

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

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

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

Tasha laughed. “Your boyfriend did.”

Wait what?

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Go away," she told Tasha.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

That woke up Lando, no question about that.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I’m sorry,” she whispered.

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

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

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

“You won?” She asked him.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Can you give me my phone?” She requested

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

And then she got to read all of it.

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

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

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

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

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

“Lando.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

[oopsiedaisydeer]

ᴊᴜꜱᴛ ʏᴏᴜʀ ᴍᴏᴜᴛʜ ᴏᴠᴇʀ ᴍʏ ᴇᴀʀ

…𝘢𝘭𝘭 𝘮𝘺 𝘧𝘦𝘢𝘳 𝘵𝘩𝘢𝘵 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘮𝘪𝘨𝘩𝘵 𝘩𝘶𝘳𝘵 𝘮𝘦 𝘪𝘴 𝘳𝘦𝘱𝘭𝘢𝘤𝘦𝘥 𝘸𝘪𝘵𝘩 𝘬𝘯𝘰𝘸𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘫𝘶𝘴𝘵 𝘩𝘰𝘸 𝘣𝘢𝘥 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘸𝘪𝘭𝘭

angst, smut (mostly descriptive), friends to lovers, unresolved, no happy ending, suggestive, making out, heartbreak, emotional manipulation, self-destructive behavior, toxic dynamics, fluff if u squint, romance, intimacy, friends with benefits, betrayal, unrequited love?, slow burn, self-sabotage

listen to the song that inspired this fic while reading!

word count - 3k

Matt has a scar on his temple. She’s always liked to run her hand over it. The first time she tried, he flinched, batted her hand away, mumbled something about personal space.

She stopped after that. Until one day, he caught her staring.

"You wanna hear a story?" he asked, grinning like he had a secret. "Got mauled by a bear once. Barely made it out."

She almost called his bluff. Almost.

Instead, she smiled, seeing it for what it was... permission. To touch him. To know him in ways he wouldn’t always say.

Maybe she loves that he never tells the truth straight. Maybe she loves that she doesn't really understand him.

Maybe she just loves him.

It was not always a thing. Her… curiousity. Affection. Desire.

When they were very little, she used to follow him and his brothers around. It was easy to. Not to mention that people liked them, because they were charming, and funny, and genuine. She stuck by Matt's side through school, feeling safe and protected under his wing like a small bird. He teased her, sure, even back then. Always sitting beside him, walking directly behind him, looking out for his reaction when she told a joke or shared a story.

Eventually, they reached that age where it was only natural for her to distance herself slightly. Things became less ritual, less assumed, and she found herself asking for permission, looking for his affirmation, seeking out his validation.

Sometime after 10th grade, she started spending the night again. Mostly in Matt’s room. He let her in. And she took what she could get. They didn’t ever cuddle or anything. Mostly Matt would talk, and she would listen. She absorbed everything, every word, every silence. The care she had for him ran so deep she felt it inside sometimes, to the rhythm of her heartbeat, spreading through her like oxygen. He asks her questions sometimes, questions that a part of her finds silly and stupid, his boyish brain not quite at her contemplative level. She forced herself not to mind. To appreciate it.

When she does talk, in those late hours, staring up at the ceiling, she can tell he’s not really listening. He’s too… wrapped up in himself. It’s not that he doesn’t care. He’s probably just stressed. 

She hopes Matt cares. Maybe he does, just not as much as her. He likes the safety of the distance between them. But just enough, sure, maybe he cares.

That night, they end up in his room. He always lets her stay when the world gets too loud. Everything feels too quiet, too intimate here. It’s a comfortable space, familiar in a way that makes her want to curl up and stay forever. She rests her head against his pillow, the soft fabric of his sleeve brushing against her forehead as she stares at the ceiling.

When she wakes, they’re the closest they’ve ever been. The sunlight manages to shine directly into the corner of her eye, so she squints. And then she sees him. Feels him. He’s holding her, his arm draped over her waist, hand grazing her stomach as her back leans against him. She sees him so clearly. Pulling her toward him in the most innocent of ways.

She feels the goodness radiating off her bones and she becomes fearful. That he’s probably known all along, even when she hasn’t. That she likes him. Really, really likes him. 

The heat doesn’t overcome the fear then, it doesn’t pool in her stomach until much, much later. It’s not till they’re eating cereal, all of them together, and someone is telling a story, and all she can do is watch as Matt suppresses his laughter. She can’t help but see the little boy in him, always. Nothing about him is malevolent to her. Even when he smirks, teasing or mocking her, she feels nothing but warmth.

She goes to parties, tries to find another guy, another boy to kiss to avoid even thinking of Matt like that. It doesn’t work of course.

She gives away her virginity to the boy in her math class. The one who didn’t mean any harm and therefore, doesn’t cause her any. He doesn’t make her feel good, but she holds him close to hide his face so that she can tug on the brown hair and pretend all is well.

And then one night, when she finally admits to herself that none of it is working, she allows her mind to wander. To truly contemplate, what it might be like. To be loved like that. By him. 

She doesn’t drift for more than mere seconds before she finally feels the warmth return. In her mind, her thoughts recall how Matt's lips hover above her ear at parties just before he leaves her alone in the corner. She could come already, it’s pathetic.

The fantasy is shattered when she remembers him kissing another girl right after.

She’s not jealous. She doesn’t need to, doesn’t want to feel special. He lets her in, and that’s enough.

She touches herself to kill the emotion, replaying the scene from an outsider’s perspective. His lips on her ear. His lips on her ear. His lips on her ear. It rewinds and distorts but it’s no matter. She’s already sticky and shameful, childlike. 

She doesn’t dare to do it again, she already regrets it and can’t look him in the eye anymore. It’s almost like he knows about the sick fantasy, and he's constantly trying to catch her with his eyes like a hunter. 

It’s only because of this that she pictures him beneath her. His eyes so wide and disconcerted, like a deer in headlights. Just like a baby animal, and her fear dissipates to the rhythm of her touch, pretending, praying that the emotion will die once more if she gives the fantasy just enough room to breathe.

And then one night they’re talking about love, true love. Their beliefs, hopes and truths, and she lies, she lies like she loves him and wants to protect him. Treats herself like the one in the wrong. She knows that this conversation is only happening because nothing will ever happen between them. She hopes that that's true because she can’t handle the end of her love, not in the way he can.

Sometime between their complete and utter closeness, they both find comfort in others. She still searches for Matt though, always, always, always.

Sometime between the external comfort, they find their way back to his room, his bed. And he holds her again, more and more these days and she wonders why.

And it’s sick and twisted because it happens. In his bed. His lips hovering on her ear, expressing his shallow gratitude. She can’t help it, she gasps lightly. It’s the best she can manage without taking advantage of his closeness.

Unfortunately, Matt notices it, and he whispers again. 

“Do you like it, baby?”, she feels his warm breath coat her like the sun, “My mouth on your ear?”

Something shrivels up and dies inside her then, the reluctance, the pre-emptive disappointment, and she nods, squirming in his grip. “Mhm,” she whines. They fall asleep like that, cuddling like lovers as Matt whispers in her ear, sending her into a beautiful trance.

In the morning, they don’t speak of it. He’s there, a vessel of her comfort as always. Days pass, and she touches herself again, thoughts of Matt creeping in as always. 

They remain who they’ve always been to the outside world. Friends. Good friends. But back in his room, as she leans against the wall his bed touches, she doesn’t feel anything like that. 

He’s sitting at his desk, back to her.

“Matt,” she says, her voice quiet, but he turns around as the silence hangs in the air between them, sharp and fragile. “Do you ever think about... us?”

He looks at her, his brow furrowing slightly, and for the first time, she sees something flicker in his eyes. Uncertainty. He chuckles, but it’s not his usual carefree laugh. It’s tight, almost defensive.

“What do you mean, ‘us’?” he asks, trying to mask the tension in his voice with the ease he’s perfected over the years.

She takes a breath, the weight of her own words heavier than she expected. She knows this is risky, but it’s impossible to hold it in any longer. “I mean… us, as more than just…” She gestures between them, frustrated, unsure how to finish the sentence without sounding foolish. “More than just… how we are. What we are.”

He shifts, his posture stiffening. His hand tightens against the armrest, his jaw set. “We’ve always been like this,” he says, and there’s that familiar nonchalance, the wall he’s always built between them. “Don’t need anything else. It’s enough.”

Her chest tightens, the words falling flat even as she tries to smile. “Maybe,” she whispers, but her voice shakes. “But what about me?”

There’s a pause, a heartbeat that lingers too long in the air between them. And for the briefest moment, she swears she sees something flicker in his eyes. Something softer, something afraid.

But then it’s gone, hidden behind that same smile that’s never quite reached his eyes.

“I’m not looking for a relationship,” he says, more to himself than to her, his voice a little too calm. “You know that.”

She nods, the weight of his words sinking in. She’s heard this before… just never to her. She should know better, shouldn’t she? But it feels different this time. It feels like a denial, not just of her feelings, but of something they could have shared. Maybe she’s been fooling herself all along.

“I know,” she says, her voice small, barely audible over the noise. “I know.”

It's still not over after that conversation. She’s still completely at his mercy and she can’t bring herself to walk away, to shatter. It’s like she wants him to hurt her. For it to be his fault, and not hers. She tells herself she can move on, that she can bury the feelings that have only been growing with each passing moment. She’s had enough of the games. Enough of the waiting. Even edging herself and relieving herself does little good.

It’s just not that simple.

The next few days pass in a blur. She tries to keep her distance, but something keeps drawing her back to him…like a magnetic pull she can’t escape, the years, the way he’s always been there. And then there’s a moment, late one night, when everything just cracks. They’re in his room again, the same room that’s always felt like home and a cage at the same time. She’s sitting on the edge of his bed, talking about nothing and everything, and then he’s there, too close again.

And before she even knows what’s happening, his lips are on hers.

It’s not like the kisses she’s had before, quick and careless, stolen moments that never meant anything. This one is different. This one makes her feel like she’s floating, like she’s finally found a place she’s meant to be. She’s shocked, clawing at the air for a second. Then his hand cups the side of her face, and she presses closer, her fingers gripping the back of his shirt, pulling him in.

It’s a moment that feels like everything. Like it’s all been leading to this. And for a little while, she forgets about the rules he’s laid down. She forgets about the distance he’s kept between them. She just lets herself feel it, the heat, the intensity, the way his lips move against hers like they’ve done this a thousand times before.

He groans into her mouth, and pulls away abruptly. But she’s desperate, kissing him again as they fall down onto the bed, their chests pressed against each other. 

Somehow the moment is passionate, the way he undresses her, caresses her, tells her she’s beautiful. He whispers in her ear as he moves within her and she whimpers, closer and closer to the high she’s been yearning for. 

His mouth trails over her chest as she arches her back away from him. He cups her breast with his warm hand, kneading it and massaging it. “I love how you respond to me, to my touch.”

He enters her slower, deeper, “I want you to feel it, baby. I want you to feel good. Feel loved.” She moans at his words and looks back, staring into his eyes, the innocent gaze of a friend she’s known for as long as she’s known her own name. They both come with a final rough movement from him and collapse onto each other.

It feels loving, like devotion, and when he eventually pulls out, she feels full of bliss. 

He gets on his knees pulling on his shirt before glancing back at her. She pours all of her love into her post-orgasm stare. He smiles, shy, before looking back down and kneeling down to kiss her core. Slowly but surely, he overstimulates her, making out with the most private part of her, cleaning her, loving her.

She smiles, content. Empty, but newly joined. Hopeful. 

But the next morning, everything is different.

He’s distant again, almost like nothing happened. His eyes avoid hers, and the silence stretches between them like an ocean, too wide to cross. He doesn’t mention the kiss. Doesn’t acknowledge what happened after.

This time, it’s different though. She knows it, and he knows it. The unspoken tension hangs in the air between them, undeniable. They don’t say the words, but there’s a shift. A silent agreement in the way he watches her when he thinks she's not looking, the way she can’t stop looking at him, even as she tries to pretend like it doesn’t matter.

Eventually, after days of this unspoken tension, Matt says something. Casual, almost teasing, like they’re joking, like nothing matters.

“You think we could do this... and whatever? A compromise?” he says, voice low but eyes still holding hers.

She knows what he means. And she knows that this isn’t the kind of thing that can be taken back. It’s an offer, a dangerous one, and she’s so close to refusing, but instead, she finds herself nodding. She’s done pretending. She’s done with the half-truths.

“I’m fine with it,” she murmurs. “Don’t need much more.”

Matt looks at her, eyes sharp. “We can make this work,” he promises, but the words are hollow. She knows that. The question hangs there between them, a fragile thread strung across a chasm of things unsaid. He knows it too. But he won't say it.

They’re tangled together in the silence that follows, a pact neither of them can take back. It’s something they’ve both tried to avoid for so long. But now, in the wake of everything they’ve built up and torn down, it feels like the only thing left to do.

The bed feels too small for both of them, a tight coil that she can't escape. She lies back, her head sinking into the pillow, the weight of the room pressing down on her. Matt’s silhouette stands over her, a shadow she can’t shake off. The space between them is thick, suffocating. She breathes in, and the air feels heavier, as though every inch she takes toward him is another step toward the inevitable.

She tells herself it’s fine, that it’s just for now, just something to fill the space between them, to fill the gaps in the way they’ve always existed. No expectations. No pressure.

But as they fall into each other again, the boundaries blur, and everything shifts. The kisses feel deeper, the touches linger longer. He holds her. He holds her. His mouth over her ear.

She’s still scared, still bracing herself for the inevitable crash, the heartbreak she knows will come when it’s over. But right now, she can’t bring herself to care.

She should feel anger, or sadness… maybe both. But instead, she feels something worse: a sick, hollow longing. It's the kind of want that gnaws at her, the kind of want that tells her that even knowing this will hurt her, she would still do it. She would still step forward. Because for the first time in too long, something feels real, even if it’s doomed..

She’s already made her bed. She might as well lie down with him.

She’s always known this would happen. She’s always known Matt would leave her wanting, never giving enough to truly stay, yet always giving just enough to keep her hooked. But now, with the decisive touches, the silence, the empty space between them, it’s different. The fear she used to feel…fear that he might hurt her, might break her heart, is gone. There’s no surprise in it anymore. There’s only a cold certainty, a sharp knowledge of how deep the hurt will run.

And somehow, she feels it before it even happens… the ache of knowing this will end badly. But there's a strange warmth in the hurt. The promise of it. A twisted comfort, like preparing for a storm you can't stop, but somehow want. The thought of it burns, and she lets it. 

She knows how it will feel when it all unravels, but she can’t help the thrill that shivers up her spine. She can’t help the way her chest tightens with anticipation, knowing just how bad it will get.

She’s looking forward to the kill.

She’ll lie in this bed she made, her heart tangled in him, and she’ll let it consume her, because it’s the only thing that’s ever felt true.

creds to rose @bernardsbendystraws for the dividers!!!

+ thank u @cowboylikenat for ur feedback <3

a/n: i swore i'd never write smut yet here we are.

taglist: @blushsturns @sturnslutz @snoopychris @sturnshood @sturns-mermaid @chrissweetheart comment to be added to my main (non-au) taglist!!

till next time!!!!

[sailorblossoms-rankane]

Can I ask your analysis on 'who says you're cute' episode?

On the scene where Ranma and Akane walk after visiting Dr. Tofu's clinic (Akane's crying scene is so heartbreaking).

I think that Ranma said 'that hairstyle looks good on you' is out of guilt. When he hears that Dr. Tofu's words don't affect her as she accepts the fact that the man has a huge crush on her sister, this makes him act to say something sorry in a roundabout way.

(I know he apologizes before they visit Dr. Tofu's office, but still, he feels guilty)

But I think it's shifted into something when Akane said and smiled so beautifully (I love love love love love that scene!) 'thank you, that makes me happy'.

That made him realize that Akane is so cute. (I think Ranma (before the cutting hair scene) thought Akane was cute, but this moment really changed the way his thought of her.)

The word, cute, has much deeper meaning now after that scene (to him). This is the reason why Ranma has trouble saying how cute she is (the armor arc really makes the boi fumble so bad when saying how cute she is, and good lord, the Romeo and Juliet scene).

But when Ranma says Ukyo 'you've become so cute' scene, I notice how lackluster it is. I think that Ranma says to Akane 'you're cute when you smile' and the Ukyo cute is the same.

Ranma didn't fumble when he said cute to Akane because he didn't realize his little crush on his cute little tomboy. Ranma saying that to Ukyo is like seeing a long time friend and seeing the changes on her (finally knowing that his friend is a she).

So yeah.... Thoughts???

This is the chapter before "you're cute when you smile" ... he knows damn well he likes her, he's just trying to protect himself by denying her cuteness because he thinks he has no chance with her. He falls for her first, but falling in love is also a process...

Ranma tells you is not guilt, or him feeling sorry or trying to cheer up Akane. He even gets pissed when Akane says it.

this is Ranma feeling guilty:

Nothing Ranma ever says or does to or with Akane is comparable to what he does with other girls. If anything, comparing should be to highlight how different it is...

This is a rejection. This can be associated with guilt as Ukyo often is...(even noticing she's a girl, given the ass whooping he just gave her and everything he just learned. It can be taken as an overcorrection)

The following scene is romantic. Look at how different the framing is – you're not meant to ever compare this to say it's the same as when he says it to other girls! Look at the lighting, how big the panels are, how it takes a full page, highlighting its importance... It doesn't matter that Ranma, who's in the process of falling for Akane, who already knows he likes her but hasn't figured out how much yet, is smooth about saying it. He knows he's telling the girl he likes that she's cute. He's telling her "I'm here, notice me" while being a bit of a jester about it ("gotcha" ... it's a bit of a game, you see, and directly connects this scene to the scene you mention)

he doesn't struggle with telling her she's cute when he's a jester (that he's teasing her like this shows comfort with her that he has with nobody else too)

Also, he does get in his way in the "you're cute when you smile" chapter. He's his own worst enemy, and he "ruins it" here

I agree with this:

"The word, cute, has much deeper meaning now after that scene (to him). This is the reason why Ranma has trouble saying how cute she is"

but this is why

A common thing when Ranma is watching over Akane's unrequited love is jealousy. He notices her being all cutesy in front of the doc and is bothered, and the next time they're over there he keeps pulling on her pigtails to get her attention when she starts acting like that again. "Pay attention to me, not him"

He tries to put Akane's feelings first in some parts, like here (he can't even look at her, he doesn't like this, but he's already showing you Akane's happiness is important to him)

But when Akane says "I'm over him" this is framed as something hopeful through paneling and lighting, and Ranma does what has been doing for a while "I'm here, pay attention to me... notice me" he jumps so he's in front of her so she literally "notices him" ... "look at me"

I think connecting this to guilt is the worst possible thing you can do (which is why Ranma gets pissed) when you think about the story behind Akane's hair. When Akane doesn't accept what he offers out of guilt is fine (like carrying her) but this isn't because he's offering his feeling here. He tends to call her uncute when he doesn't like something she's doing or feels rejected in some way (or when he's trying to downplay his feelings)

When Ranma says he prefers her shorter hair, he is stating his preference. He has to get away from her and gets to a high place like a little cat, trying to get comfortable but incredibly shy anyway, this is very difficult for him... we see several instances of Ranma dealing with guilt (Ukyo, for example, is constantly connected with guilt) and it doesn't look like this.

And this is huge, because the long hair is linked to her molding herself after someone else to get love, and the short hair is her true self. So this is Ranma saying "I like your true self better" ... so Akane smiles at him with genuine happiness (accepting his feelings, even if part of her still wonders if it's guilt). She's smiling as her true self so Ranma, who already liked her, falls even harder for her... part of why things change for him is that from that moment on, the reasons to be in denial are no longer "I have no chance with her" ... if calling her uncute is sometimes linked with Ranma feels rejected, acknowledging her cuteness in his head is the opposite. Ranma likes her smile because he likes it when she's happy (because he likes her!) but this is also the start of her smiles being connected to bonding and affection (more consciously).

Here's something else:

Ranma knows Akane's roughness, and he likes it. He provokes her to get that side of her: he can deal with roughness and genuinely enjoys fighting with her. It's what he's used to (blame genma)

But he struggles to see Akane's sweetness (even though it's the first thing she shows him with "you wanna be friends?") He struggles with it because it's too disarming.

so this is Ranma being unable to deny her sweetness, and falling even harder... things start becoming difficult then not because he has no chance, but because his feelings become too big, too much

i might be forgetting something here, it's the second time i'm typing this because tumblr ate my first response lol i'm not even gonna proofread, a bitch is tired

[f1daydreamer]

Shattered Reflections – Part 1

Pairing: George Russell x Reader

Warnings: Heavy angst, heartbreak, (I am not good at warnings 😅)

Summary: The love you thought was unbreakable now feels like glass—cracking under the weight of unspoken words and hidden truths. You see the shift in George, the distance in his touch, the silence that lingers where laughter used to be. And when the truth comes out, it cuts deeper than you ever imagined.

---

The hotel room was suffocating, the air thick with something unspoken, something bitter and painful. The city lights cast long shadows against the walls, flickering like ghosts of memories you weren’t ready to let go of. You sat on the edge of the bed, your hands clutching the hem of your sweater, fingers digging into the fabric as if grounding yourself in something—anything—before you lost control.

George stood near the window, his back to you, hands shoved into his pockets. He hadn’t looked at you properly in days, maybe weeks. You used to be his home, the person he always turned to, the one he sought comfort in. Now? You felt like a stranger in your own relationship, a ghost haunting a love that had already died without you realizing it.

"Are you going to say something, or are we just going to sit here pretending everything’s fine?" Your voice broke on the last word, your throat tight, raw from the unshed tears burning behind your eyes.

George inhaled sharply, his shoulders tensing. "I don’t want to fight."

You let out a hollow laugh, shaking your head. "Oh, now you don’t want to fight? That’s funny, because for weeks, you’ve been acting like I don’t even exist, George. You come home late, you barely talk to me, and when you do, it’s like you’re not even here."

His head dipped slightly, as if he hated hearing the truth out loud. "It’s just—things have been stressful. The season, the pressure, everything. I didn’t mean to shut you out."

"Bullshit," you spat, standing up so fast that the mattress shifted beneath you. "I was there for you when things were stressful, George. I have always been there. So don’t you dare use that as an excuse for why you’re pulling away from me."

He finally turned to face you, and the look in his eyes sent a cold shiver through you. Regret. Guilt. But worst of all—resignation. Like he had already made up his mind.

"You deserve better than this," he said softly, almost too soft, like he didn’t want the words to hurt as much as they did.

Your stomach dropped. A deep, aching kind of dread settled in your bones. "What the hell does that mean?"

George ran a hand through his hair, exhaling shakily. "It means I don’t think this is working anymore."

Silence. Deafening. Crushing.

Your breath hitched as his words sank in, slicing through your chest like a knife. You felt your hands tremble, your vision blur with tears, but you refused to let them fall. Not yet.

"You’re breaking up with me," you whispered, barely able to get the words out.

George swallowed, his jaw tightening. "I don’t want to hurt you."

A bitter laugh bubbled from your throat, sharp and jagged. "Too late for that."

Your hands curled into fists, your nails digging into your palms as the pain—God, the pain—became unbearable. "Why now? Why are you doing this? Just tell me the fucking truth, George."

He hesitated, and that hesitation was all you needed to know.

"There’s someone else, isn’t there?"

His silence was your answer.

It felt like the ground beneath you gave way, like the air had been sucked from your lungs. The tears came then, hot and fast, blurring everything until all you could see was his face—his guilty, tortured face. The same face you had loved so fiercely, so wholly, and now it was the face of the person breaking you into pieces.

"Who is she?" your voice cracked, but you needed to know. Needed to hear it.

"Y/N—"

"Who the fuck is she, George?" you screamed, your voice shattering between you like glass.

He closed his eyes, exhaling like he was carrying the weight of the world. "It’s not like that. I didn’t mean for this to happen."

"You didn’t mean for it to happen?" A sob tore through you, your chest heaving. "Do you hear yourself? Do you even realize what you’ve done?"

George stepped forward, reaching for you, but you flinched back, your entire body recoiling from his touch. "Don’t. Don’t you dare touch me."

He looked broken, but you didn’t care. He didn’t get to be broken. Not when he was the one who did this.

"You were my everything," you choked out. "And you just threw it all away like it was nothing."

Tears streamed down your face, but you didn’t wipe them away. Let him see the damage. Let him see exactly what he had done.

George took a deep breath, his own eyes glassy, but his expression was firm. "I’m sorry."

You let out a shaky, humorless laugh. "No, you’re not. If you were sorry, you wouldn’t have done this in the first place."

And with that, you turned away, because if you looked at him for even a second longer, you would break beyond repair.

But the truth was, you already had.

---

To be continued…

------

A Note from Me to You:

I wanted to take a moment to share something personal with you all. A close friend of mine recently went through a heartbreaking experience, and it’s been weighing on me. She was in a relationship for four years, a relationship she thought was built on trust and love. Unfortunately, she found out that her boyfriend had been cheating on her, and the truth cut deeper than anything she could have imagined.

What makes this situation even more complicated is that the other girl involved had no idea he was in a relationship either. It's painful to see two people hurt by someone’s betrayal—two people who never deserved any of this. It's a situation filled with hurt, confusion, and regret, and it’s been hard to watch my friend go through such an emotional storm.

To anyone who has been through something similar, know this: You are not alone. Betrayal leaves scars, but it also brings the strength to rise again, even when it feels impossible. The pain is real, and it’s valid, but you don’t have to go through it alone.

I’m sharing this not to draw attention to the hurt, but to remind us all of the importance of love, honesty, and the value of knowing our worth. If you’ve been through something like this, take time for yourself, lean on those who care for you, and always remember that your value is never determined by someone else’s actions.

This is for my friend and for anyone who’s had their trust broken. You will heal, and brighter days are ahead.

[ohmybueckers]

Never Strangers: Chapter Three

Word Count: 4.3K

Warnings: binge drinking, I think that’s it???

Authors Note: heyyyyy guys. Sorry this chapter took a hot second to come out and sorry it’s a lot more filler than other chapters - a LOT more was supposed to happen in this one, but I realized I could cut them into two and get this one posted faster. Which means 1. chapter four will come out a lot quicker than this one did and 2. it will be a lot more exciting than this one (based on the ending you can see why). anyways xoxo enjoy!

“No fucking way!”

Brooke braced herself on our kitchen counter, examined my phone like she had never seen one before. I was very aware of the fact my behead was still intact and I hadn’t even washed my face this morning, but I knew Brooke would classify this as an emergency that needed attending to ASAP.

“There’s no way,” I groan, wondering how my mission of avoiding Paige and all feelings associated with her at all cost had blown up in my face less than twenty four hours after getting here. “How does she even know?”

Brooke looked equally puzzled, her perfectly shaped eyebrows furrowing before her posture straightened comically fast like a puppet. She shouted, “Adria!”

I was still confused, now even more so. “What?”

“Her story from last night must have gotten to KK, which somehow made it to Paige.”

In recent years I have become what my friends have lovingly referred to as “chronically offline” - it had to have at least been 2 days since I had opened Instagram, and I certainly didn’t follow the younger girl last night. Safe to say I had zero clue what she was referring to. “What story?”

Brooke grabbed her phone from the kitchen countertop, typing quickly before shoving her phone back in my face. Sure enough, Brooke and I were the stars of the story, both holding our glasses and wearing big smiles (certainly a symptom of the cheap wine). How Adria managed to find my account to tag me, I was not sure. All I knew is that Paige most likely saw it, and that a shameful part of me was at least a little happy that I looked good in the photo.

There was certainly no erasing Paige’s memory, so this text was mine to tackle. “Alright, how do I even respond to this?”

From the way Brooke looked at me, you would think I just suggested transferring again. “Respond? You’re kidding, right?”

I shrug, not exactly enthused by the idea of interacting with Paige on my first full day, but not enjoying the alternative either. “I mean, she knows now. It’s kinda rude to not say anything, isn’t it?”

“What’s rude is talking to a girl as if she’s your girlfriend, treating her like your girlfriend, and then disappearing out of nowhere and lying to her about it. You know exactly why she’s trying to hit you up again,” Brooke grabs my shoulder with care, a gesture I leaned into, “If she thinks you’re easy enough to let her in again, you gotta show her she’s dead wrong.”

My mind felt like it was destroying itself trying to figure out the truth. Part of me wanted to listen to Brooke, who had never once led me astray in her advice and had enough experience with fuck boys to know how they tick - even if the fuckboy in question was actually a girl. Everything she was saying matched the image I had built up about Paige in my head for years. 

Once my heartbreak molded into anger, it became a hell of a lot easier to get over Paige, at least enough to date other people at Minnesota. Anger became comfortable for me - except the occasional nights I spent alone in my dorm, looking back at old photos I couldn’t bring myself to delete permanently from my ICloud. Nights where I wondered if I actually had it all wrong, and if somehow I let myself get too comfortable hating Paige to consider any alternative to what was my truth. Was it pathetic to hold on to a grudge from over three years ago? I really didn’t know sometimes. 

I shut my phone off, reassuring Brooke that I was not going to fall back into Paige, which she seemed to accept fairly easily. Brooke ultimately just wants what’s best for me, and the last thing I wanted was for her to spend her last year at UConn worried about me. She had the LSAT to focus on, not my situation with my ex.

Which is why I conveniently forgot to inform her when I decided to respond to Paige that night, waiting until the sun had set and nearly twenty four hours had passed before sending a simple “yes”, throwing my phone on my bed and taking a long shower before I could decide I made a grave mistake. 

———-

The first day of classes came quick, which I was thankful for - there’s only so much time a girl can spend in her poorly air conditioned apartment, and it’s not like Storrs had that much going on when school was not in session. What I was not thankful for was my packed Monday schedule, starting with an 8am economics lecture that I wouldn’t have taken if it wasn’t the last one available to satisfy a requirement, and ending with general chemistry (again, would not take if I didn’t need to squeeze a science credit in). 

If my 3 alarms weren’t enough to wake me up, I could rely on the sun blazing through my apartment at 5:30AM. After making a mental note to finally order some curtains, my full morning routine commenced, the one I saved for special occasions (or for when I simply could not fall back asleep): 20 minutes of pilates, followed by a citrus scented shower, a full makeup routine, and styling my nearly black hair in loose curls. 

By 7:30 I was ready to begin my walk to the business school, smoothing out my floral sundress and hoping it would instill some confidence in me. I would probably lean back into wearing jeans within the next week, but I still had some belief in my mom’s insistence that dressing well on any first day or impression mattered. I guess it did make me feel pretty, in a “belongs more on a Hollister catalogue than a college campus” kinda way. The dress did not fix the way my my first day nerves seemed to wreak havoc on my body, causing me to barely shove a protein bar down my throat before my body decided that was all the breakfast it could handle.

If I were still in Minnesota, my walk to classes would have been a whole lot louder. It was not often I had a commute where I didn’t curse the incompetence of Minnesota drivers. This was not the case in Storrs, partially because there were no drivers. Aside from the shuttle that passed me as I turned onto Alumni Drive, the only sound to accompany me was Beyoncé serenading me through my headphones. While Minnesota was simply a college with a large city unrelated to it, it was evident that Storrs would be almost nonexistent without UConn - if Minnesota was a city school, this felt almost like summer camp in comparison.

 I didn’t know exactly what to make of it yet, but I promised myself I would keep an open mind. I had to. There was no turning back now. 

———-

The day ended up being just as exhausting as I anticipated, potentially even more so. I’m used to liking first days. The idea of a new start each semester usually feels exciting, but this time I may have bit off more than I can chew. Syllabus week at Minnesota was a breeze, my calendar filled with classes where we just went over standard course expectations followed by frat parties I pretended to have interest in. The second my economics professor began lecturing after covering the syllabus for a measly 10 minutes, I knew he did not roll that way.

I genuinely have no idea how I made it through my high school schedule every day: multiple AP classes, followed by an afternoon job tutoring middle schoolers, with mock trial practice shortly after. It’s a miracle I found time to actually have a social life. Clearly my stamina had depleted severely, as by the time I stepped into my history discussion (seriously, who holds discussion when there isn’t anything to discuss yet), I had already made an emergency stop for coffee and was contemplating whether it was possible to take a nap in my thirty minute passing period before my chemistry lecture.

I made quick stop in the bathroom to fix my mascara and ensure the concealer under my eyes wasn’t crumbling (it was). Leave it to a hot September day and a bathroom with yellow tinted lighting to deplete my confidence: my once voluminous curls fell flat to my face, frizz accumulating at the roots. My concealer which had been matched to fit my warm skin tone now made me appear sallow, and my eyes were not fooling anyone - I was truly, undoubtedly tired. Not much I could do at this point other than use a generous amount of travel size dry shampoo, wipe the remnants of my mascara from under my eyes, and hope that the lighting in my discussion wasn’t as harsh.

I stepped into the classroom and was quickly overwhelmed by the size of it - not because it was too big, but because it was intimately tiny. I had been comfortable in my two previous classes, the large lecture halls allowing me to fade a little into anonymity - just another body struggling to stay awake as my professor explains the importance of studying economic law in the most monotonous tone possible. Looking at the long fake wood table and the twelve chairs, four of which were filled, I realized my streak of avoiding introductions had ended. 

After a quick scan, I chose to set my stuff down next to the person who scared me the least: a tall girl with pin straight long black hair, dressed in black baggy cargo pants and an oversized SZA shirt, complete with silver rings on her fingers which were currently in use scrolling her laptop. I offered a customary closed mouth smile as I sat down and set my book bag down on the table. 

There was a short pause where the only sound to hit my ears was the hum of the far too harsh overhead lighting as I took out my laptop, before I heard a deep voice ask, “long day, huh?”

As I turned to face the girl and processed her statement, it was evident that my attempt at looking put together was no longer working, especially now that the humidity had done a number on my hair. To be fair, I did feel like I was about to crash. “Tell me about it,” I replied, face flushed. I began to wonder if I should have sat next to the frat boy who was scrolling on UConn’s barstool account instead.

Maybe she took pity on how embarrassed I looked, because the smirk was erased from her tanned face and was replaced by a look of sympathy. “Hey, I don’t blame you. My 8AM econ lecture was brutal.”

The gears turned in my brain before I realized just what she had said. “Wait, which econ class?” After the taller girl recited a number from the schedule on her lock screen, I grinned. “We’re in the same lecture!”

“I cannot believe he would teach that much content on the first day.” She rolled her brown eyes, “Ok, let me guess. History and economics classes, leather planner… you’re pre-law, aren’t you?”

I mean, she technically wasn’t completely wrong. “Yes?”

“Then why haven’t I seen you try out for mock trial?” She asked, a perfectly shaped brow raised high and the Colgate smile smirk returning to her face. Her voice was low and teasing - definitely the flirty personality type. I could recognize it all too well.

Not wanting to explain my long and complicated history with the organization, I settled for the easy answer. “I just transferred here.”

“Well, we’ll be at the org fair if you want to sign up for a tryout spot,” She smiled, “Just tell them that Alex sent you.”

“Going to take a wild guess here and assume you’re Alex,” I quipped, though I will admit the effort did bring a small smile to my face. “I’m Maya.”

“See! I can already tell you’re clever enough for us,” Alex joked, a ring clad hand bracing her head on the table as she stared at me. I noticed the way she scanned me, her eyes falling down to the v neck of my dress before tracing back up to my smile. I suddenly felt the need to smooth out the bottom of my dress against my legs, my hands feeling very sweaty. 

 Before I could respond, the TA announced the start of the period, and both of our heads turned to the front. The rest of discussion was spent typing notes on when my paper was due and what constitutes academic dishonesty, all while trying to ignore the way the girl next to me kept shooting looks my way.

————

The one benefit of my packed Monday/Wednesday schedule was that my weekend was essentially four days long. I had two classes on Thursday, both criminally early, but it meant that I was done by noon and ready to enjoy a few days with nothing on my agenda… at least once I finished all of my assignments my professors had mercilessly assigned on the first week. 

A groan left my lips for what had to have been the third time in ten minutes as my eyes squinted to make out my general chemistry textbook. I had read the same paragraph around 5 times now, and each time I seemed to understand it less. Even though Adria invited me to study with her on the patio of her favorite coffee shop, I was sure she was about to tell me to leave. “I don’t know how I did AP Chem in high school, this is like a whole other language to me now.”

Adria laughed, looking up from her organic chemistry book (the contents of which I’m pretty sure would give me an aneurysm). “Not a STEM girl?”

“Definitely not a STEM girl,” I shook my head, unsure why the version of me who picked her schedule over the summer decided taking a notorious weed out course was a great idea. Taking a quick sip of my matcha, I added, “But I don’t know if I’m necessarily a law girl either. Been a real pain trying to figure it all out.”

“You will, I promise. Besides, I can always tutor you,” Adria reassured me softly, a gesture that would be a lot sweeter if there wasn’t a tiny voice in the back of my head nagging me for needing a pep talk from someone so much younger than me. If Adria can have everything figured out, why can’t I? “Enjoying UConn so far though?”

“Yeah, it’s been okay! I’ve met some nice people in my classes,” I think about how Alex quickly spotted me yesterday morning in lecture and gestured to have me sit with her and her mock trial friends. Turns out sitting through an 8AM lecture on law and economics was a lot easier when you had a friend next to you. “I think Brooke wants to go to bars this weekend though, and I just know the lines are going to be awful.”

Adria lit up at this. “There’s a party being thrown by members of the mens basketball team tomorrow - someone basically rented out Huskies. I got access to one over the summer and it was a ton of fun - you should come!” 

My mouth opened, trying to form a response. On one hand, it’s not like I had any concrete plans yet, and staying in on the first weekend after classes just felt wrong. But the words basketball rung in my ears like an unwelcome echo. Brooke’s warning that Paige was everywhere on campus rung true already, already overhearing her name in conversations more times than I could count. Seeing her and possibly talking to her? That was a whole other ball game, one that I weren’t sure I was ready to play. It wasn’t even necessarily that I wasn’t over her yet, but rather that we hadn’t spoken beyond a couple of short text exchanges in years (the most recent of which Paige hadn’t even responded to). Running into her was bound to be awkward, and I was determined to avoid the discomfort.

“Oh Adria, I don’t know…”

Adria cut me off, her voice insistent and almost desperate. “Please come. Brooke usually ends up leaving with some guy and I don’t want to be alone. All of my other friends can’t come, they have to be dry for sorority rush.”

I scoffed, though there’s no bite as I joke, “So you’re saying I’m your last option?”

“I’m saying I saved the best for last,” Adria gave a sheepish shrug. “If it helps change your mind at all, the women’s team won’t be there. KK said they were all going to Ted’s.”

I knew that there was no point of basing my choices at UConn based on whether or not I could run into Paige, but I would be lying if I said the reassurance wasn’t helpful. “I guess I could be convinced.” 

Adria clapped, her smile big enough that agreeing already felt like the correct decision. “You won’t regret it, I promise. Pregame at yours?”

————

If there’s one thing I learned after two years going to college in the midwest, it’s how to throw a damn good pregame.

I felt the bass of my music from my JBL speaker course through my body as I set a shot glass back down on the faux granite countertop, wincing as the cheap tequila flowed down my throat. Brooke, Adria, and Brooke’s friend Marley stared at me, a mix of both amazement and slight concern on their face. On nights out, I have been known to pregame heavy, especially nights where I don’t know most people there. For one, it means I spend less money, plus it gives me some much needed extroversion to make it through the night. 

“Damn girl, I did not know you could drink like that,” Brooke whistled, sipping on her High Noon tenderly. Her and Marley had other plans for the night, some frat event. Brooke claimed the only reason she would be caught dead at a frat as a senior is because Marley’s boyfriend was the president and so they got special treatment, but I had my suspicions she might have a frat crush of her own. 

I felt the buzz as the four of us left our apartment, Adria and I running to catch our bus in order to avoid the thirty minute walk. In my alcohol induced giddiness, I noted how the sky faded from a bright blue into a mosaic of purples, pinks and yellows as the sun set over the lush trees. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw Adria’s phone face me as I gripped the pole, looking out the window of our bus with the amazement of a kid in a candy store. I had spent the past week unsure of what to make of Storrs, but it felt almost romanticized in this moment.

Unfortunately, the picturesque moment did not carry into Huskies, an establishment that was far more of a restaurant than a true bar. A tennis game played over the TV, paired with the speakers blasting Drake as we were surrounded by a sea of girls with bleach and tones and Princess Polly crop tops. The basketball players seemed almost allergic to mingling with their invitees: aside from one or two attempting to chat up one of the girls, they all stood at their own table sipping beers and looking like they would rather be anywhere else. 

Adria ordered us drinks as I snagged us a table. Soon enough we stood side by side, sipping on Captain Morgan and Coke and a tequila sunrise respectively, unsure of what to make of what we were seeing. “It was a lot more exciting over the summer, I swear,” Adria looked apologetic, “Maybe it’s just one of those things where we have to get drunker?”

I was making a mental note to take two Tylenol before bed for the sake of my tomorrow morning self when a man’s voice emerged from the crowd. 

“Adria, you made it!” A pale man with floppy brown hair and impossibly long legs emerged, grin on his face as he wrapped Adria in a side hug. She returned the hug and the smile while brushing a braid away from her face, though hers seemed more forced. She finally pulled away when he began rubbing her arm, her face lighting up upon making eye contact with me.

“This is my friend Maya, she just transferred here.”

He grinned, reaching a hand out to shake hers with a firm grip. “Hey, I’m Noah. You made a good choice!” 

“He plays for the team, I think he might be a bit biased,” Adria remarks, earning her a shocked look from her friend who quickly turned his attention away from me and onto her.

“Me and some of the guys were going to play some darts, you wanna be my partner? I’m sure we can find a partner for Maya as well,” Noah gestures to me without turning his head, as though I am an afterthought. While it’s not like I’m dying to play drinking games with a group of NBA hopefuls, it wouldn’t hurt to at least act like I’m there.

Adria clearly did not want to play as well, as she stuttered out some half-assed excuse. “I think we’ll stay here! Don’t want to risk, um, losing this table.”

Losing this table? Looks like I also needed to make a note to teach Adria how to lie. It was beyond obvious that Noah wasn’t buying it, but I guess  he was choosing not to be confrontational. With a cough, he replied. “Right, um, well I’ll catch up with you later tonight then!”

The second he was well out of earshot (not that far, considering the volume they were playing Passionfruit at), my interrogation began. “Who was that?”

Adria looked down at her drink, looking uncharacteristically unconfident. “That was my in to this bar. We met over the summer.”

I nodded, watching as Noah stopped to chat with a mix of guys and girls under the flashing blue and pink lights. “Well I’m pretty sure he wants to get with you.”

“Oh trust me, he’s tried.” Adria deadpanned, evoking a laugh from my glossed lips. “He’s still a good guy, and I like being his friend. But I’m not into him like that.”

“Is it KK?”

Adria bit her bottom lip, and for a moment I feared I had gone too far, like we weren’t quite at the point in our friendship where that wouldn’t be a sensitive subject. I was ready to retract my question when she spoke softly. “We’re not exclusive… at least I don’t think so. I haven’t been with anyone else, but who knows if she has.”

Man, Adria really liked this girl. Some part of me was thankful to give some advice to her for once, although it’s not like my history gives me the authority to give relationship advice. “Have you tried talking to her about it?”

“Absolutely not.” She shook her head, her eyes wide. “I’m way too scared to hear the answer.”

I felt a pang in my chest, relating to that feeling all too well. I’ve always had a tendency to protect my peace too hard, avoid asking questions to escape conflict - through the years, I’ve discovered it almost never ends well. “But do you think you might be hurting yourself more by not knowing?”

Adria took a pause, staring off as Noah and his friends began frat flicking to some song that did not warrant that at all. “I am not drunk enough to think about that right now.” 

We both laughed, silently agreeing to down the remainder of our drinks at the same time. The ice had melted well with the remainder of my sunrise, dulling the burn of the tequila. This was probably a good thing - I’m pretty sure my tolerance was lowered over the summer, because I felt my body get warmer than anticipated despite the air conditioning working overtime. Adria set her drink down on the table, turning to me once more. From the glint in her eye, I knew she was about to return my line of questioning. “What about you? Are you looking to get set up, because I’m sure that’s the reason those guys invited all of us here in the first place.” 

“First of all, I’m gay,” I began, examining the crowd in front of me. “I’ve been here like a week, haven’t really had the time to think about hooking up with anyone.”

“Well, what’s your type?”

I thought for a moment about my (limited) history. “Tall, athletic, nice eyes…”

“Paige.”

I rolled my eyes, though I would be lying if I said the blonde was not included in my thought process. “I mean it, I’m done with her.”

“No, no. Paige. Right over there.”

It felt like my heart plummeted to my ass, the effects of the alcohol consumed unable to keep me cold as a chill rushed through me. Before my brain could tell me not to look, my head snapped to the front. Two girls now stood at the front of the bar, talking to the male players. One girls laugh cut through the crowd, and I saw a small smile erupt in Adria. That must be KK. The girl next to her, hands shoved in the pockets of her cargo pants, didn’t even need to say or do anything. I could tell Paige Bueckers from any crowd.  

---

taglist (open!): @paiges-1vur @unadulteratedcyclepaper

[alittlegiraffe]

Title: Through My Eyes

The glow of your phone screen was the only thing illuminating the bedroom as you sat curled up against the headboard, scrolling through the endless comments.

"She’s so plain."

"What does he even see in her?"

"She looks sickly—someone get her a sandwich."

"Boring as hell. No wonder he’s always writing about heartbreak."

Your stomach twisted, fingers tightening around your phone as the words burned into your brain. You knew better than to read the comments. You’d told yourself a thousand times not to look. But curiosity always won out, and now, here you were, letting strangers pick apart every inch of you like you weren’t a real person—just an attachment to him.

You didn’t even hear Marshall come in until the bed dipped beside you.

"Y’good, baby?" His voice was rough with sleep, laced with concern.

You inhaled sharply, locking your phone and setting it face-down on your lap. "Yeah. Just… couldn’t sleep."

Marshall’s tired blue eyes flickered to your phone, then back to your face. He wasn’t stupid. He could see the way your body was curled in on itself, the way you wouldn’t quite meet his gaze.

He reached out, running a gentle hand down your arm. "What’d they say this time?"

Your throat tightened. "It’s nothing, really—"

"Bullshit," he cut in, his jaw ticking. "You only get like this when some dumbass on the internet gets in your head."

You exhaled, looking away. "It’s just the usual stuff. That I’m boring, too thin, too plain… That you could do better."

Silence.

Then, Marshall grabbed your phone, unlocking it easily—he knew your passcode—and scrolling through your notifications. His grip tightened as he scanned the comments.

"Fuckin’ ridiculous," he muttered, shaking his head. Then, before you could react, he tossed your phone across the room. It landed somewhere on the carpet with a soft thud.

"Marshall—"

"Nah," he cut you off, shifting to face you fully. His hands found your legs, tugging you forward until you were straddling his lap. His big, warm hands settled on your waist, holding you firm. "Look at me."

You hesitated, but his fingers curled under your chin, tilting your face up until your eyes met his.

"You really believe that shit?" he asked, voice low but intense. "That you’re not enough for me?"

You swallowed hard. "It’s not that I believe it, but—"

"But nothin’," he interrupted, shaking his head. His hands slid from your waist to your arms, then back again, like he needed to remind himself that you were real, that you were his. "Lemme tell you somethin’, baby. You think I want some overdone, plastic, attention-hungry chick who don’t know the first thing about me? You think I’d trade this—" He squeezed your hips, his eyes dark and serious. "You—for some Instagram model who don’t know how to hold a real conversation?"

You let out a shaky breath. "I just… I don’t want people thinking you deserve better."

Marshall’s face softened, but his grip on you didn’t. "Ain’t nobody in this world better than you, sweetheart." His fingers skimmed under the hem of your shirt, sliding along your bare skin. "You think I give a fuck if you’re ‘plain’? You’re the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen. Inside and out. I don’t need flashy, or fake, or whatever the hell these people think I should have. I need this. I need you."

Tears pricked at your eyes, and Marshall sighed, pulling you into his chest, his arms wrapping around you completely. His lips pressed against your temple, lingering.

"They don’t see what I see," he murmured. "But they don’t fuckin’ matter."

You melted into him, breathing in his scent, his warmth, his love.

"Don’t let ‘em take up space in that pretty little head of yours, alright?" He pulled back just enough to press a soft, lingering kiss to your lips. "Only opinion that matters is mine. And I think you’re fuckin’ perfect."

A small smile finally found its way to your lips, and Marshall smirked, brushing a knuckle under your chin.

"There’s that smile," he murmured. "Now, c’mere, lemme remind you exactly how much I see you."

And as he pulled you back down to him, hands roaming, lips claiming, the noise of the outside world faded away. Because in his eyes, you were everything.

Marshall didn’t let you go. Not even for a second.

He held you like he was afraid you’d slip away, like he needed to erase every cruel word from your mind with his touch alone. His hands roamed your back, your sides, gripping, kneading—reminding you that you were his.

"You hear me?" he murmured against your lips, his breath warm, his voice rough. "Ain’t nobody’s opinion matter but mine. And I think you’re the most beautiful thing I’ve ever laid my fuckin’ eyes on."

You let out a shaky breath, fingers twisting into his hoodie. "Marshall—"

"Nah," he interrupted, shaking his head, his hands sliding under your shirt, palms warm against your skin. "You don’t get to brush this off. Not after I just watched you shrink in on yourself over some dumb shit some jealous motherfuckers said on the internet."

Your throat tightened, the vulnerability creeping in again, but Marshall wasn’t having it. He leaned in, brushing his lips across your jaw, trailing soft, lingering kisses down your neck.

"You’re mine," he murmured, his voice dark and full of promise. "Every inch of you. Ain’t nobody else’s opinion matter."

You let out a soft whimper as his teeth grazed your pulse point, your fingers clenching against his chest. He was overwhelming in the best way, drowning out every insecurity with the sheer force of his love, his need to make you understand.

His lips found your ear, his breath sending shivers down your spine. "You think you’re too thin? I love your body, baby. Every soft, sweet, perfect inch of it." His hands slid down, gripping your hips, pulling you flush against him. "You think you’re boring? Then why the fuck am I so addicted to you? Why can’t I go a day without wantin’ to hear your voice, see your face, touch you?"

Tears welled in your eyes, but this time, they weren’t from hurt. They were from the sheer weight of his love, of how fiercely he saw you.

Marshall pulled back just enough to look you in the eyes, his gaze burning into yours. "I’m in love with you," he said, voice firm, raw. "Not who people think I should be with. Not some fantasy. You. And I don’t ever wanna hear you doubt that again."

You swallowed thickly, nodding, unable to find words.

His expression softened, his hands cradling your face, thumbs brushing away the wetness on your cheeks. "C’mere," he whispered before pressing his lips to yours—slow, deep, reverent.

You melted into him, letting him pour every unspoken word, every reassurance, every ounce of love into you. And as he laid you down, taking his time, worshipping every part of you, you finally started to see yourself the way he did.

Perfect. Beautiful. His.

---

The morning sun peeked through the curtains, casting a golden glow over the bedroom. You stirred slightly, feeling warm, safe—wrapped up in him.

Marshall’s arms were snug around you, one hand splayed across your lower back, the other lazily tangled in your hair. He was still asleep, his breathing slow and steady against the top of your head, but even in sleep, his grip on you was firm, possessive—like he wasn’t ready to let go.

You shifted just enough to look up at him, taking in the peaceful expression on his face. The hardened, world-weary man everyone else saw was nowhere to be found. Here, with you, he was just Marshall. Just the man who held you together when the world tried to tear you down.

Your heart clenched as the sting of last night’s comments threatened to creep back in, but then—his arms tightened around you, like he knew where your mind was headed, even in his sleep.

"You ain’t thinkin’ about that shit again, are you?"

His voice was rough with sleep, but there was still that edge to it—the same one he had when he was protecting something his.

You sighed, resting your chin on his chest. "No," you murmured.

His eyes cracked open just enough to scan your face. "Liar," he muttered before pulling you back against him, shifting so you were practically on him now.

You let out a soft laugh, but it quickly faded when he ran his hands up your back, slow and deliberate. "I meant what I said last night," he murmured, pressing a lazy kiss to your forehead. "Ain’t nobody’s opinion matter but mine."

You bit your lip, tucking your face into his neck. "I know."

Marshall hummed, not convinced. His fingers tilted your chin up, forcing you to meet his gaze. "Do you?"

You hesitated, and that was all the answer he needed.

He exhaled, shaking his head before flipping the two of you so he was hovering over you now, caging you in with his arms. "Then lemme say it again," he rasped. "You’re mine. Every part of you. I don’t give a fuck what people think, baby. I don’t want anybody else. I don’t even see anybody else."

His lips brushed against yours, barely there, but his eyes—intense, unwavering—told you he meant every word.

"I don’t wake up every day next to them," he murmured. "I wake up next to you. And that’s the only thing that fuckin’ matters."

You swallowed hard, nodding, because how could you not believe him when he looked at you like that? Like you were the only thing in the world that mattered.

He smirked at your silence, finally closing the gap and kissing you—slow, deep, reassuring. Like he was sealing his words into your skin.

When he pulled back, he brushed a strand of hair from your face, his fingers lingering on your cheek. "Now, what do you say we go get some breakfast, Mrs. Mathers? Maybe post a cute lil’ selfie so people know exactly who I’m wrapped up with every night?"

You rolled your eyes, but you couldn’t fight the smile forming on your lips. "You’re impossible."

Marshall grinned, pressing another kiss to your forehead. "Yeah, yeah. But I’m your impossible."

And just like that, the noise of the outside world didn’t matter anymore.

---------

A/N: based on a real life conversation I overheard at a lil get together with my husband's friends last night. His best friend's sister is apparently very much not impressed by my husband's choice of wife.

[hoo-n-i-ki]

Cold One. (Chapter 3)

Only when death looms do regrets surface.

PAIRING - Volturi!Riki x Cullen!fem!reader

GENRE - Twilight AU

CHAPTER WC - 7337

WARNINGS - Vampires, shapeshifters, graphic violence, cursing, plot heavy. Mentions of death + organized crime. Brief cameo of villain shapeshifter Enhypen. (This is a complete work of fiction and is in no way a representation of Riki or Enhypen).

☽✦✧†✧✦☾✦✧†✧✦☽✦✧†✧✦☾✦✧†✧✦☽✦✧†✧✦☾

Once the shock wears off, Misora lunges at her brother.

At the Mind Stealer. At the most devastating angel—despite the eyes of a demon.

You watch as your new best friend moves, driven by over a century of pain. She slams into him with all her inhuman strength, knocking him back, snarling like a feral creature.

And the Volturi guard? He stands as he is, and takes it, despite the likelihood that he could overpower her.

“You left us!” She roars, but her voice is ragged. “We thought you were dead! We thought the Yakuza killed you after you stole all that blood money and left it on our doorstep!”

“I’m sorry.” His apology drips with sincerity. But his words fall onto deaf ears.

“But in reality—this is where you were? Off playing assassin for those parasites? Do you know what you did to mom? If you thought she lost it when she lost her husband, you should’ve seen her when she lost her son.” She laughs bitterly, a cackle so loud it sends the birds flying off the treetops. “She used up part of the money you left us to throw you an elaborate sōshiki, to honor you, and even though there was no body, she cried at your memorial stone for weeks.

“Weeks, Puppeteer, weeks!”

Misora starts screaming. Actual, gut-wrenching screams.

And him? If vampires could cry…

“Jasper, how about you calm her down?” Carlisle whispers to him on your side of the clearing.

“Let them keep going,” Edward interrupts. “He deserves it for using his power against Bella 19 years ago. Any Volturi bastard deserves it.”

“But he’s with us, now.” Carlisle says.

“No he isn’t. He’s with Misora. And…” Edward throws a momentary glance at you, almost contemplative or confused. But he doesn’t finish his sentence.

“I only left to protect you from myself, I swear—“

She punches him, square in the stony jaw.

“Don’t you dare. Don’t you dare swear a single thing to me, because I’ll never believe you, anymore.” Her chest heaves. “You swore that our family would always be together. But guess what? You left. You’re not even the son our parents raised, anymore. Mom, dad, Konon, they’re all gone.” She lifts her arms in exasperation. “I was almost gone, and I was excited to finally see my big brother again, but I got hit with the curse that you so openly embrace.”

He kneels.

“Miso, please, hear me out.”

“I will never,” her voice breaks, “ever be your Miso again!”

She starts shouting in Japanese, but he simply watches with furrowed brows.

It’s like he… forgot his mother tongue during his time with the Volturi.

He lost his identity.

She keeps going. He keeps kneeling. The Cullens keep curiously watching.

And you keep wishing to intervene. But it’s not your place.

Until Misora’s voice tires, and finally stops. She stares at him for a while, heartbreak radiating off of her skin. She recognizes her brother, but she doesn’t know him at all.

She turns to re-enter the Cullen house, you follow her, and the Cullens follow you.

You turn to the angel one last time, and he’s still on his knees with his eyes cast downwards.

The family tries to calm down Misora by giving her a bag of O-.

“(Y/N)?” Esme turns to you with the second blood bag in hand.

You shake your head. You haven’t drank in a week. You feel weak, but you don’t wanna give in—not to human blood, at least.

There’s nothing wrong with you that you’re so unable to ingest animal blood, whereas the Cullens are able to.

Right?

“No, thank you. I wanna give animal blood a try again.”

Esme nods with a sympathetic smile. “Just drink this so you can be strong enough to hunt with us next time, then?”

You sigh and take it with a grateful nod.

A couple sips. Just a couple sips.

Hm.

It’s not as warm as it is fresh—straight from the source—but it still has the sweetness no deer or mountain lion can replicate.

Your fingers tighten around the bag and your fangs ache the more it floods every single one of your senses.

It’s an addiction, but you can control it. You can. You have to—because you refuse to relive that shame.

You tell yourself that this is just closure. Just one last drink. You certainly need it in more ways than one.

It’s just so easy.

But you’re (Y/N) (Y/L/N). You’ve never chosen the easy way out—so when you’re done, you force yourself to pull it away for the final time, even as your throat burns as though it’s upset at saying goodbye.

Misora turns to you. “You’re sure you can do the deers with the sliminess in their blood?”

You trade a glance, and the two of you burst into miserable laughter.

“I’m not sure about anything, anymore,” you scoff.

The two of you sit in a distracted silence whilst the Cullens split off—washing away the remnants of the morning. So you take the opportunity to slip outside.

You weave your way through the trees, feet silent against the damp earth. Something in your gut tells you he’s still here. It’s not logic—it’s instinct. A quiet pull in your chest that you don’t quite understand. You don’t know why you’re doing this. You don’t know him. His scent isn’t familiar like the Cullens’ or Misora’s—it doesn’t pull at any memories or feelings of safety.

And yet, there’s something about him. Something magnetic. Something that urges you forward, despite every rational part of you telling you to turn back.

And then you see him.

Riki kneels at a small creek’s edge, staring into the water like it might hold all the answers he’s lost. His reflection wavers, distorted by the gentle current, but he doesn’t move. He’s unnervingly still—too still, even for a vampire. And his cloak is discarded on the ground, beside him.

For a moment, you just watch.

It’s strange, isn’t it? That you followed him here. That your feet carried you straight to him. You shouldn’t be here. He was sent to kill you, wasn’t he? And now, with Jane and Alec gone, the Volturi will come for him.

And that should scare you. It does scare you.

But you don’t turn away. Instead, you step closer.

“This place… it reminds me of home. There’s a creek behind our old neighborhood in Okayama. My sisters and I used to play there—before everything changed.”

He exhales sharply, gaze still fixed on the water.

He heard you… or maybe he felt your presence, the way you did his.

“Volterra isn’t like this. It’s stone and shadow. Cold. The only water runs through the underground tunnels, and it reeks of death.”

The sound of his voice settles into your bones the more he speaks—a deep, rich tenor that seems to hum through the air itself, and it lingers even after his words have faded.

Yet, when he speaks now, there’s a quietness to it, a vulnerability beneath the depth of his tone.

It shouldn’t be so mesmerizing. He shouldn’t be so mesmerizing.

But the way his voice brushes against your senses—it’s like gravity itself shifts, pulling you closer.

You smile softly as you near his side. “Misora never talked about her old life.”

He shrugs. “It was a tough life, I don’t blame her. And pretty sure I only ended up making it worse, no matter how much I thought I was doing good at the time.” He looks down for a couple of seconds, then back at the water. “I never spoke about it either.”

“Well, pretty sure the company you kept isn’t the type where you sit in a circle sharing secrets while you braid each other’s hair.”

He laughs.

It’s quiet at first—just a short exhale through his nose, like he’s caught off guard by the amusement creeping in. But then it deepens, a low, rich chuckle that rumbles from his chest and melts into the evening air. It’s unpolished, like he isn’t used to laughing anymore, like the sound itself has been buried beneath years of blood and duty.

And it’s… warm. Unexpectedly warm, considering everything about him should be cold. You shouldn’t be wondering how someone who has done such terrible things could sound so human when he laughs.

But you do.

He quiets down and continues. “Not just that. I didn’t want to remember, because I knew that the memories would never stop haunting me if I let myself dwell on the past. It worked… even though it was at the expense of everything I’d ever held dear to me. Until now.” He sticks a tongue in his cheek. “And now? It feels like I’m drowning in everything.”

You hesitate for a moment, studying him as he stares into the water, lost in something only he can see. His words hang between you, heavy and raw, like he’s only just realizing the weight of them himself.

And then, before you can stop yourself, you ask, “Why are you telling me this?”

His jaw flexes. For a second, you think he won’t answer. That maybe he regrets saying anything at all. But then, he exhales sharply through his nose and finally turns to look at you.

His eyes—so red, so beautiful, so unreadable—search yours like he’s trying to find the answer in them before he even speaks.

“I don’t know,” he admits, voice quieter now. “Maybe because you’re the only one who doesn’t look at me like I’m already damned.”

You nod thoughtfully, and turn to gaze at the waters, trying to see what he’s seeing.

If he was truly damned, he wouldn’t have betrayed the kings for the sake of love.

There’s humanity in there, somewhere. Perhaps you’ll be lucky enough to get to slowly uncover it as you uncover your own.

The silence you share is not awkward. It’s peace.

“You were right, by the way. I did hesitate. And maybe that cost me everything. But it feels like I gained something, instead.” He scoffs. “I definitely didn’t gain Misora back. Hell, I deserve everything she threw at me—because I don’t even know how to be a brother anymore. I just…”

You turn to face him fully, the weight of his words pressing into you. You can see the conflict in the tense set of his shoulders, the way his hands rest loosely at his sides, as if he’s unsure how to move forward.

“You got some closure?”

For a long moment, he doesn’t speak, doesn’t even move. His eyes flicker to yours, and when rubies meet bloodstains, there’s an intensity—something raw and searching.

His gaze holds you captive, and you’re not sure if you’re the one who’s getting pulled in or if it’s him. Maybe it’s both. It’s like the world itself has narrowed down to just the two of you.

“Maybe I’m just trying to figure out how to be someone who’s worth trusting again.”

You give him a tight-lipped smile. “She’ll come around. You just have to prove to her that she can trust you again. And hey, you have all the time in the world to do that, right?”

He chuckles dryly. “If Aro doesn’t kill me by tomorrow.” He shrugs. “I’m not sure she’ll be able to look past the past 200 years, though.”

“You might’ve known the Misora from back then, but I know the Misora now. I genuinely do believe she’ll forgive you one day. She might be cynical and great at holding a grudge, but she is crazy loyal. Just try to live long enough to see her loyalty, okay?” You try to laugh.

He smiles with those plump lips. “I was sent here to kill you. Why would you want me to live?”

You pause. Why indeed. “Because it would make my best friend happy, and you didn’t kill me, now did you?”

“Is that it?”

You both fall into a charged silence, and for a fleeting moment, the world feels like it’s holding its breath.

Something stirs inside you. Maybe it’s the lingering threat of danger, or maybe it’s the unspoken understanding between you two that you don’t know how to name.

You can’t hold his gaze for long. The intensity is too much, like it’s pulling you into some unknown abyss. Had you still had a beating heart, the pulse would thumping in your ears.

“I don’t know,” you finally say, your voice barely above a whisper. The truth.

He nods slowly, eyes never leaving yours, and it’s as if he understands—like he knew you didn’t have an answer, but he needed to hear you say it. For a moment, there’s nothing but the rustling of leaves in the breeze and the soft gurgle of the creek before you.

Then, you both get the urge to move at the same time. As you do, your hand brushes against his, and it’s a fleeting touch, but it’s enough to send a jolt of electricity up your spine.

You don’t pull away immediately. Your eyes flicker down to where your fingers are lightly grazing against his skin. Riki’s eyes shift to your hand, then back to your face, his expression curious. But there’s something in the way his lips twitch upward, just slightly.

You pull your hand back, awkwardly, but it doesn’t seem to matter. The connection remains, thick in the air, heavy with unspoken words.

You both start walking, and you try to fill the silence, trying to let your mind wander away from the ending conversation you just had, but it keeps coming back.

“So,” you ask, breaking the quiet, “you planning to stick around at the Cullens’ place for a while?”

Riki scoffs, his hands stuffed in his pockets as he walks beside you. “Highly doubt Carlisle would let a Volturi into his home, even if his daughter does vouch for him.”

You laugh, shaking your head. “I’m not his daughter.”

The words are out before you even think about them. But then they land heavier than you expect. You hadn’t really thought about what it meant to not have parents ever since you entered your… current state.

You slow your step, the sudden weight of the memory crashing into you. Your parents. Their deaths. The vampires who took them from you. What would they think of you now? What would they think of where you are, who you’ve become—who you’re standing next to?

The thought is suffocating, and it almost stops you in your tracks.

Riki’s footsteps falter slightly beside you, and when you glance at him, his gaze is far off, focused on nothing in particular. His brow furrows in quiet thought.

“You know,” he murmurs, “I can’t help but wonder what my parents would think of me. If they could see me now…” His voice trails off, and for a moment, it’s just the two of you once again. You’re sharing something, without ever having to say it.

You understand that neither of you can change the past, can undo what’s been done. But you both have to keep going.

You force yourself to shake off the dark thought and turn your attention back to Riki, the smile creeping back onto your lips. “Don’t worry about it. Carlisle’s good with lost causes. You’ll fit right in.”

He glances at you, that same quiet amusement flickering in his gaze.

But it falls once you step up to the edge of the property. You follow his gaze—to where his sister sits in the living room, exposed by the floor-to-ceiling windows.

“On second thought, I’ll go occupy myself with something else.” He gulps. “Thank you for your… kindness.”

☽✦✧†✧✦☾✦✧†✧✦☽✦✧†✧✦☾✦✧†✧✦☽✦✧†✧✦☾

Riki walks away, and he doesn’t stop until the lights of the Cullen house disappear behind the trees.

It’s better this way—that’s what he tells himself.

But the weight in his chest doesn’t agree.

He tells himself Misora is safer without him, that she’s better off not facing the repercussions of what he’s done. He tells himself he didn’t leave because he was afraid of her reaction to seeing him again.

But that’s a lie.

He is afraid.

He saw the way she looked at him. That uncertain betrayal, like she was trying to make sense of the person in front of her. Like she didn’t recognize him.

Maybe she doesn’t. Maybe she never will again.

Because the brother she remembers—the one who looked out for her, protected her, stayed by her side—he doesn’t exist anymore.

The person standing here now?

He’s a murderer.

The words taste like blood, metallic and bitter.

He doesn’t regret it. Alec and Jane deserved to die.

But the Volturi won’t see it that way, because they don’t care the way he does. The members of the Volturi all have their mates with them, and that’s all that matters to them.

He’s never had a mate… but today struck him with the loneliness and seclusion he’s been in for 200 years, and when faced with impending death, he wishes he went about everything differently.

They’ll come for him. That much is certain. Maybe not tomorrow. Maybe not next week. But eventually.

No one kills the Guard and walks away unscathed. Not even the Volturi’s most prized possession. In fact, they’ll probably be more eager to kill him, considering his position.

He knows too much.

So why does he still feel like he lost something else, tonight, besides his life?

He exhales sharply, shaking his head.

Misora will be fine. The Cullens will protect her.

And (Y/N)…

His steps falter.

Her face flashes through his mind—eyes steady, voice unyielding. She spoke to him like he’s a person. Not just the boogie monster of vampires. He’s been somebody else for centuries, now, but for a moment… he felt like Riki Nishimura.

He laughed.

She looked at him like he was more than just his sins. Like there was still something left worth saving.

Stupid.

He scoffs under his breath, pressing forward. She’s just a reckless newborn. She doesn’t know what she’s doing. She doesn’t know him.

And yet, that brief moment with her is the only thing that doesn’t feel tainted by the rest of tonight.

His fingers twitch at his sides.

Stupid, reckless, exquisite newborn.

But none of it matters.

Not her. Not Misora. Not this useless ache in his chest.

Because soon, the Volturi will come for him.

And when they do, there won’t be anything left of him to mourn.

☽✦✧†✧✦☾✦✧†✧✦☽✦✧†✧✦☾✦✧†✧✦☽✦✧†✧✦☾

Morning light filters through the trees outside, casting soft, shifting patterns on the Cullen house’s pristine walls. The peace feels deceptive—something you haven’t had since turning.

And then Rosalie, standing by the door, lets out a sharp breath.

“You’re going to want to see this,” she says, unfolding a piece of parchment.

It’s the blood-red V emblem imprinted into the wax seal. It��s the same logo on the letter itself.

You’ve seen it before, months ago in Carlisle’s office.

Back then, it was a warning about the tiger shifters. A very vague warning, because there’s nothing actually in it for them. It wouldn’t have affected them or their authority if the Cullens were killed by the Baekho clan.

This letter, though, leaves no room for interpretation.

“To the Cullen Family,

It has come to our attention that one of our own has chosen to defy us. Riki, a member of the Volturi Guard, has committed an unforgivable transgression. The breach of our laws cannot go unpunished.

We understand that he may be under your protection, but we warn you—this is not a matter to be taken lightly. His actions will have consequences, and we demand that you return him to us.

Bring us the boy.

Failure to comply will result in actions that will not be limited to just the one who defies us. You may believe yourselves untouchable, but know this: the Volturi do not make threats. We make promises.

Consider your next steps carefully.”

You’ve barely read the words before Misora’s exhale, barely more than a whisper, breaks the silence. “Riki…”.

She’s already on her feet before anyone can react, moving toward the door like she’s running on instinct.

“Where are you going?” Jasper asks, stepping into her path.

“To find him.”

You speak before you even realize it. “I’ll go with you.”

Misora hesitates for only a second before nodding.

Once outside, the cold air bites at your skin—not that you mind. You don’t speak at first, just move quickly through the trees.

But where would he go? Misora seems to be as aimless as you are.

Then you remember him at the creek. Quiet, lost in thought. So water is nostalgic to him.

“Should we try the Goldstream River?”

Misora shakes her head. “No. That doesn’t make sense. Riki isn’t… he isn’t that person anymore.”

“Then where would we find him in this entire town?”

Misora doesn’t have an answer, but this is the only idea, the only lead you’ve got.

So you run.

The forest blurs around you as you race toward the river, branches whipping past, footsteps quiet against the undergrowth. And then, finally—

There he is, in all his shimmery glory.

Riki stands at the water’s edge, arms crossed, gaze fixed on the slow-moving current. His expression is unreadable, but something about the way he holds himself—shoulders stiff, jaw tight—tells you that brain of his has not quieted down.

Misora exhales sharply, and glances at you, then back to him.

You just watch him for a moment. Misora doesn’t think he’s the same person she used to know, the brother that played with her by the water. But this is where he always finds himself.

Misora freezes, and she can’t bring herself to move closer. He’s noticing, though. You can see the red of his irises in the corner of his eyes watching, waiting, hoping.

Well, you hope that you’re enough.

“Riki,” you start, stepping forward. “You need to hear this.”

He doesn’t turn, doesn’t shift from where he stands. But you see the way his fingers twitch at his sides. He’s listening.

“The Volturi sent a letter,” you continue. “They’re demanding that we hand you over.”

Misora flinches beside you, but Riki… he just smiles. It’s small, barely there. A resigned kind of thing.

“Of course they did.” He finally turns his head to glance at you. “It was only a matter of time.”

Something about how calm he is unsettles you. There’s no panic, no urgency—just this quiet acceptance, like he’s already laid himself at the Volturi’s feet in his mind. Like he’s been waiting for this moment all along.

“You don’t have to do this,” you tell him, stepping closer. “The Cullens—Misora and I—we’re not going to let them take you.”

His gaze flickers, but he shakes his head. “You don’t understand. This isn’t a fight you can win.”

“That’s not your decision to make.” Your voice is steady, firm, and that surprises even you.

He looks at you then—really looks at you. Eyes scanning, searching, trying to figure out what the hell you’re doing standing here, offering him something no one ever has.

☽✦✧†✧✦☾✦✧†✧✦☽✦✧†✧✦☾✦✧†✧✦☽✦✧†✧✦☾

“Absolutely not.”

The words hit the air like a slap, and Riki flinches, though he doesn’t show it. Edward stands rigid, his gold eyes dark with what Riki knows is a mix of disbelief and fury.

“You can’t seriously think we’re going to risk everything for you,” Edward continues, voice low and harsh. “I don’t care how much we owe Misora or care about (Y/N). We’re not going to stand by you when you’ve already made it clear how little you think of us,” Edward spits out, the words laced with a sharp edge. “All you’ve done is hurt people, Riki. You were there when the Volturi wanted to kill Renesmee. You don’t get to walk in here and expect us to fight for you.”

Expect them?

He never expected a single thing. The only thing he’s expecting is death.

It’s just that (Y/N) let him hope. He really should’ve known better.

His guardian angel who for some reason decides to speak up. “If he dies, it doesn’t change what he did. It won’t undo the blood on his hands.” She narrows her red eyes at her gold-eyed family. Because the way they stand together? This really is a family—regardless of whether or she accepts it.

And he… is envious.

“But this isn’t about the past. It’s about the present,” she continues. “I thought you guys don’t leave someone behind, not someone who needs us!”

Carlisle, who had been quiet up until now, finally speaks. “The moment that letter arrived, we were already implicated. The Volturi made that clear—we’re in this, whether we like it or not.”

The words settle over the room like a cold realization.

Still, Misora doesn’t move. She hasn’t said a single word since they returned, standing with her arms crossed, watching it all unfold. But now, finally, she steps forward.

“Why should I fight for you?” Her voice is quiet, but the bitterness in it is unmistakable. “You never fought for me during this life.”

Riki exhales slowly, his expression unreadable. “Misora…”

“You stood by and let me believe I was abandoned,” she continues, the edge to her voice sharp. “I fought to keep myself alive. I’ve already done more than I needed to by deciding to warn you.”

She laughs bitterly, but there isn’t a single glint in those crimson eyes of hers. The eyes that used to hold nothing but mischief are now all sorrow, and it’s his fault.

But like she said, she did warn him. Does she want him to live long enough to make things right?

Carlisle exhales. “I understand why none of you want to fight, and I’m not asking anyone to put themselves in danger.” His gaze lingers on Riki before moving to the others. “But that doesn’t mean we do nothing.”

“So, what?” Rosalie crosses her arms. “We just watch from the sidelines?”

“If that’s what it takes.”

Silence stretches, thick with tension.

Alice shifts, arms wrapped around herself. She looks at Riki, then at Edward, then finally at Carlisle. “I’ll try to see what Aro’s planning,” she says, closing her eyes.

Riki watches the crease form between the psychic’s brows. Her fingers twitch at her sides. Seconds pass.

Then Alice’s entire body tenses.

“I… I don’t see anything.” Her voice is barely above a whisper. Her hands curl into fists as her golden eyes snap open, wide with disbelief. “It’s blank.”

The words freeze the room.

Riki stands with his body taut, trying to plaster on that mask of indifference he had screwed onto his face back in Volterra. It would be easier to block everything out—to feel nothing and not care that no one is willing to fight for him. He wishes his sister’s bitterness didn’t pierce so hard, and didn’t remind him of all the years he let slip away. The numbness was so much safer—it prevented him from disappointments. But now? With Alice’s vision going blank? He realizes that it’s all too late.

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A week passes. A whole week, and still—nothing.

The Volturi don’t come. There’s no sign of them, no whispers of their approach, no ominous figures in the distance. Just silence.

It’s like the entire purpose of the letter was to put everyone on edge. And it worked. Even Alice, who has spent the past few days trying and failing to see anything, looks unnerved. Every conversation in the Cullen house circles back to the same thing: Why haven’t they come yet?

You don’t have an answer. No one does.

But in the meantime, you force yourself to focus on something you can control.

The animal blood still doesn’t taste right. It never will. Even the hunt doesn’t fill you with the adrenaline rush you used to chase for three whole months. But you drink it anyway, pushing past the revulsion, the longing for something richer, warmer, stronger. Every time you force it down, you remind yourself why.

You lost your way and became the very creature you resented your entire life. You let yourself forget that when you woke up with red eyes, let yourself believe the hunger was all that mattered. Even now, part of you still wonders if it’s too late—if you’ve already crossed a line that no amount of restraint can erase.

But if you can’t bring back the lives you’ve stolen, then maybe this is the least you can do.

Still, you miss it. The chase, the thrill—the way Misora used to grin at you right before the hunt began, sharp and wicked. But you hunt with the Cullens now.

Misora still chooses human blood, but she doesn’t hunt here. The Cullens made their treaty with the tiger shifters clear: no human blood within Victoria. So she vanishes for hours at a time, returning only when the hunger is sated, and you don’t ask where she goes, so that it doesn’t trigger your cravings.

Riki, on the other hand, appears to be too… dejected to hunt. He’s only drank a single blood bag so far, courtesy of Carlisle, just enough for his eyes to not turn black. But he did try out a coyote that Emmett dragged back to the lot a couple of days ago, and he didn’t look as disgusted as you’re certain you still do.

You’re perched on the back steps of the Cullen house, staring at the trees beneath the grey clouds when you hear him approach.

“You’re changing,” Riki says. His voice is quiet, not quite neutral, but close.

You glance at him. He’s standing a few feet away, hands in his pockets, eyes unreadable as they flicker over your face.

“What?”

He gestures vaguely. “Your eyes. They’re not as red as before.”

You blink, momentarily thrown off, before realization settles in. He noticed something so little. You lower your gaze, staring at your hands.

“Well.” You shrug. “I never liked the red much, to begin with.”

Riki doesn’t respond right away, and for a moment, there’s only silence between you. It’s not uncomfortable, not really. It’s just how things have been. He doesn’t seek you out, but he doesn’t avoid you either. There’s a strange in-between that you’ve both settled into—where he doesn’t push, and you don’t pry.

But now, he stays.

You glance at him from the corner of your eye. He looks as beautiful as always—messy dark hair, sharp features. And yet, something is different. Maybe it’s the way his shoulders don’t hold the same rigid tension, or how his expression isn’t completely closed off.

He almost looks… lost.

You watch as he shifts his weight, debating sitting down next to you.

Until he does.

“Is it a you hating vampirism kind of situation?” He asks calmly.

“I hate… what it reminds me of.”

You tell him everything.

Your memory of your parents’ death. The rampage you went on up until a month ago. All the while, he doesn’t judge. Certainly not the way you’d expect red-eyed royalty to—or at least, the direct subordinate of royalty. He just takes in what you have to say, the red of his eyes warm.

After a moment, he runs a hand through his soft hair. “I get it,” he says, voice quieter than before. “The whole… hating what you are thing.”

You blink, caught off guard.

He doesn’t elaborate immediately. Instead, he leans forward, resting his forearms on his knees, gaze fixed on the woods ahead. “Back in Volterra, I used to tell myself it didn’t matter. That I’d already lost everything, so what was the point of feeling bad about it?” His jaw tightens. “But then, at some point, I stopped having to tell myself. It just… was.”

“So what changed?” you ask, because clearly, something did.

He hesitates. Then, his lips curve into something that isn’t quite a smirk, isn’t quite a frown. “I saw the very reason I begged to be turned, again. I was killed, and then I was almost drained, but I begged the vampire I woke up to to save me somehow. I just wasn’t aware that by being saved, I would end up having to leave everything behind.”

You look at him, but he doesn’t meet your eyes. It’s not avoidance, exactly—it’s something else. Like he’s letting you in, just a little, but not enough to be exposed.

Little does he know, you were in a very similar position. Except you didn’t have a family to leave behind, you just had to let your career go… but in turn, you gained a family.

“I don’t wanna leave people behind, anymore, as long as they’ll have me.”

Instead, you huff a soft breath, nudging his arm. “Careful, Riki. That almost sounded sentimental.”

That earns you a glance, a glimmer of amusement in his expression. “Guess your coven rubbing off on me.”

“You wish.”

The corners of his full mouth twitch, just slightly. And you notice. You always notice. And you can’t help but stare.

But your gaze drags his to your lips, as well.

Until the creak of the door breaks you apart, so you re-enter the house.

Carlisle steps in, his footsteps a lot more… guarded than usual.

And in behind him comes Dr. Park.

You haven’t seen him in months. Since that night.

“(Y/N),” Carlisle starts, his lifted eyebrows almost telling you to be wary. “Dr. Park here wanted to check on how you were doing.”

Riki gets the hint and walks away, away from the brown-eyed man.

“Dr. (Y/L/N), how lovely it is to see you!” His tone is cheerful, but his eyes flicking between your blood orange ones are uncomfortable. Assessing.

“How are you holding up?” he asks, in a tone that suggests he’s genuinely curious—but something about it feels calculated. He gives you a sympathetic smile, but you’re in no position to trust it. “I can only imagine what a change it’s been for you, adjusting to this… new lifestyle.”

You tense, but you force a smile. “I’m managing.”

Dr. Park shifts, and though he’s trying to act casual, his body remains rigid. “I must apologize again for what happened that night… with the tiger shifters.” He holds up a hand, as if to stop you from interrupting. “I know it wasn’t just a simple accident. It was my responsibility, and I—” He pauses, then looks at you like he’s about to offer a kind gesture. “I never intended for any human to be hurt.”

He doesn’t regret attempting to kill Carlisle. He regrets the outcome.

“I’m sure you’ve been through a lot, with… everything you’ve had to give up,” Dr. Park adds, his gaze flicking to your hands briefly. “Family, friends, everything that you once were.” His words are soft, almost too soft. “But you should know that as soon as you build up your self control , if you ever want to come back…” His voice trails off, leaving a silence in the air.

Riki, standing off to the side, frowns slightly. You catch the flash of annoyance in his expression, but he says nothing. Misora, too, watches from the living room—her similar expression making her appear more like Riki’s twin than just his sister.

Carlisle steps in. “She’s doing fine, Dr. Park.”

“Of course, of course.” His smile falters for just a moment before it returns to its practiced warmth. “I just thought I’d offer my assistance.”

He turns toward the door, clearly not wanting to overstay his welcome. But his gaze lingers near the living room for a second longer than necessary.

But you might have hallucinated it.

Just like how the next day, when night falls, you start hallucinating a tiger’s roar. Because there’s no way Dr. Park would violate the treaty for no reason, right? Right?

You, the Cullens who aren’t out hunting, and Riki all share curious glances.

They heard it too.

A low, rumbling growl that wouldn’t belong to any vampire or human. It carries through the trees, deep and guttural, setting every nerve in your body on edge.

Riki hears it too. You see it in the way he tilts his head slightly, listening—then in the sharp flicker of his gaze toward the door. The two of you move almost at the same time, stepping outside alongside Carlisle and the others.

And that’s when you see them.

The tigers.

Your entire body locks up before you can stop it. The world narrows, sharpens—too bright, too loud, too familiar. The way they stand, the way their muscles coil like they’re ready—

It’s just like that night.

Your fingers curl into fists at your sides, nails biting into your skin. You try to force yourself to stay still, to ignore the way your throat tightens—but then Riki shifts.

At first, you think it’s just him moving closer to get a better look. But then, without a word, he steps in front of you.

It’s subtle. Casual, even. He doesn’t bare his teeth, doesn’t snarl like he’s challenging them—he just exists between you and them, a silent blockade.

“What is this, James?” Carlisle calls out to the woods. The man isn’t actually around, but who else could be commanding the shifters?

The amber-eyed tiger steps forward. You remember him—Jay, Dr. Park’s son. The one with icy eyes, Sunghoon. The largest, Heeseung.

And the one who attacked you, the one currently standing at the back but is the fastest, regardless. Jake.

Then shadows shift behind the tigers.

“Ah, how lovely to see you all again. I do hope we aren’t intruding.”

A voice that’s all warmth and poison.

A man you’ve never seen before steps out, with his long, brown hair and black and red coat, followed by a taller man with similarly dark hair and a blonde man.

Gasps ring out near you. Riki tenses in front of you. And you know his name right away.

Aro.

The one Misora once told you is the worst of them all. Thank goodness for her that she’s currently away from Victoria, hunting.

Alice takes a hesitant step forward, flanked by Jasper, her anchor. “So that’s why I couldn’t see you coming,” her voice shakes. “You were hiding behind shifters.”

Aro’s smile widens at that, his eyes gleaming with amusement. “Ah, dear Alice,” he muses, tilting his head slightly. “You always have been quite the gifted one. But yes, it seems our little allies here have provided quite the convenient cover.”

His gaze flickers toward the tigers, then back to you. His expression is unreadable, but the way he looks at Riki, and then you behind him—like he’s peeling back your layers, examining you from the inside out—makes your stomach churn.

The tigers remain silent, their eyes fixed on you. And you truly wish that Edward is here to read their thoughts. It’s clear they don’t like standing alongside the Volturi, but they’re tolerating it. A temporary truce.

“We have a truce with the Baekho clan.” Carlisle’s eyes flicker from the shifters to the Volturi.

“Your treaty was nullified the moment you allowed the boy and his sister to stay in your town,” Caius growls.

“And so,” Aro’s quietly delighted voice rings, “we formed our own treaty with them. Kill the red-eyed, and they’ll never have to see us in Victoria again.”

A slow, creeping chill settles into your bones.

Aro watches you carefully, but there’s something particularly pleased in the way his gaze drifts to Riki, his fascination clear.

“How curious,” Aro muses, almost to himself. “That the very one who was sent to eliminate you is now your shield.” His gaze flickers between the two of you, lingering on the way Riki’s posture remains stiff, unwavering.

Riki doesn’t move. He doesn’t react. But you can feel the tension rolling off him in waves.

Aro’s fingers twitch at his side, as if the urge to reach out and confirm what he’s seeing is almost unbearable. “Riki, Riki, Riki,” he sighs, tilting his head. “I must say, you continue to surprise me. First, you slaughter my dear Jane and Alec. Then, you desert us. And now?” His eyes gleam, lips curling upward. “You protect the very newborn you were sent to destroy.”

His voice is almost admiring, like Riki’s betrayal is nothing more than an interesting puzzle to solve.

Riki shifts slightly, but he still doesn’t move away from you. “Not my problem if you sent me on a job I didn’t finish,” he mutters. “Guess you should’ve picked someone else.”

Beside Aro, Caius stiffens, and Marcus—who has remained silent this entire time—finally lifts his gaze, watching with interest.

Aro, however, just laughs. Soft, entertained, yet there’s something razor-sharp underneath it.

“Oh, Riki,” he sighs, almost fondly. “You misunderstand.”

He takes a small step forward. Riki doesn’t back away, but you can feel the way his muscles tense.

“You didn’t just fail your assignment,” Aro continues, his voice dropping into something softer, silkier. “You abandoned your family—your true family that has been with you for centuries. You took the lives of our own.” He claps his hands together gently, though the sound is eerily hollow. “That is not something we can simply forgive.”

The threat lingers in the air like poison.

Riki still doesn’t move.

Aro hums, his gaze flickering back to you. But I must know—” His head tilts slightly, eyes narrowing in thought. “Where is your accomplice? His lovely sister?”

You keep your expression carefully neutral. You cannot let him see an ounce of concern.

Aro studies you for a moment longer, then sighs. “Ah, well. No matter. We’ll find her in time.”

His focus shifts back to Riki. And this time, the amusement slips, leaving something far colder in its place.

“You do understand, my dear boy,” Aro murmurs, voice quiet but unyielding, “that deserting the Volturi is a crime punishable by death?”

The moment Aro speaks, the air changes.

It’s subtle at first—a shift in the atmosphere, the way the trees seem to stand still, listening.

For the snarl. Low and rumbling.

The tigers move first.

Jay lunges, a blur of muscle and fur aimed straight for Riki. Thanks to his vampiric speed, he’s able to shift his weight, sending them both tumbling.

You stumble back just as Sunghoon and Jake launch forward. Jasper intercepts Sunghoon, the impact sending shockwaves through the ground, while Jake barrels toward you.

For half a second, you freeze.

Not again. Not again.

The memory punches through you—Jake lunging in the dark, his weight crushing you, claws digging in.

But then—

Riki.

He rips himself free from Jay’s grasp, and in a blink, he’s in front of you again. His fingers twitch at his sides, and the tiger freezes in the air, until he falls backwards. The massive body jerks like it’s being pulled by invisible strings, and Jake snarls, trying his hardest to to break free.

But the Puppeteer is far too practiced.

And then the Volturi join.

Caius moves first, aiming for Carlisle. He’s fast—but Carlisle sidesteps him, forcing him off balance just long enough for Alice to charge in. Jasper and Sunghoon are locked in a brutal exchange of claws and limbs, neither gaining the upper hand.

Riki is facing both Jay and Jake at once, switching between combat and his own power, since it appears two minds are his limit.

And you move.

The heavily striped one, Jungwon, comes at you, but this time, you react. He lunges, and you drop low at the last second, sweeping your leg out to knock his balance. He stumbles, and before he can recover, you slam your palm into his ribs, sending him skidding backwards.

Your hands shake, but you refuse to stop.

Until movement flickers in your periphery. Aro.

You whirl just in time to see him standing perfectly still amid the chaos, watching you, studying you.

Like he’s waiting.

You feel it before you see it. The shadow moving behind you. The air shifting.

You turn too late.

And cold fingers wrap around your throat.

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Comment if you’d like to be tagged on the last chapter!:)

Prologue | Chapter 1 | Chapter 2 | Chapter 3

@angelengene3011 @opheliaas-stuff @lizzygrantwrld @meyinyin @melzonly

[shadowthesim237]

ᯓ water fountain

warnings: angst, crying, cheating, commitment issues, a situationship, slightly suggestive if you squint.

( english isn't my first language so sorry for any mistakes! )

⋆.˚ i should've built a home with a fountain for us, the moment that she told me that she was in love - alec benjamin .𖥔˚~

"I love chris, and he loves me back, he cares about me..right?" that's what you kept telling yourself for a year. a whole year of pain and heartbreak. you were so honest with him and quickly opened up about your feelings towards him. but he never made a move or a step further into your relationship..

you shared almost every class in high school, you'd accidentally make eye contact and feel like the rest of the classroom froze and there's only you both in it, so you took the first step and asked for his phone number with the lame excuse of helping each other with homework, but he knew it wasn't true, because he saw the way you'd get all clumsy when he walks past you in the hallway, and how you lose focus when your friend group is trying to have a conversation but he's looking at you.

chris couldn't help it, he caught himself thinking about you all the time that it drove him crazy. he didn't know what made you so special. you're just his classmate and that's all, but his brain kept fighting that information and would still drift back to your stupid smile and your horribly perfect eyes. so when you asked for his number, his mind was a complete mess. but eventually gave up and handed it to you because he was so curious about you, he wanted to get closer and to actually know you.

after only two months of being friends, you were standing by the little water fountain in the hall, you thought he looked so handsome today that you didn't even think twice before saying "i love you", those simple three words escaped your lips while his head was burried in the sink drinking, he almost choked from surprise but reacted casualy and made your feelings feel seen, but what bothered you is the fact that you never heard it being said back once. with every passing day you felt more and more humiliated. why did you ever accept to be in this situation? you let him treat you like you were his, you could hear the jealousy in his tone whenever that boy would try talking to you. but why would he be jealous when you weren't even together.

chris had serious commitment issues and refused to admit it, but it was so clear to everybody else how he kept people at a safe distance, he never passed the talking stage once in his life with a girl, so you thought you were special, he made you feel different than the other girls from the way he treated you, but again nothing changed. you remained unlabeled to him god he never even touched you once it never escalated to anything more than long make out sessions. until one day you decided that you should stop this. he keeps this going and you couldn't take it anymore.

so at that night you were invited to a party and went without telling chris, why should he know what you're doing afterall it was none of his business? you saw that boy who kept asking you out repeatedly making his way towards you through the crowd. you were half drunk and completely unfazed by the guy's tries to talk to you.

you couldn't remember what happened next that made you wake up in that stranger's bed no matter how hard you try to squeeze your brain. you can only form a blurry image of that boy grabbing your hips and pulling you in, you kissed.. you let someone else kiss your lips other than chris. he whispered sweet things in your ear, about how pretty and valuable you are, you know you shouldn't listen, but you yearned that affection, you needed someone to fix that emptiness that chris didn't bother to fill.

you couldn't face chris after what happened, there's no way you were gonna tell him. so you ignored him for a couple of weeks, leaving him on read and not answering his calls, he was dying to know what happened out of a sudden. did he do something wrong? until you couldn't keep hiding any longer, guilt was eating you alive so you just asked to meet somewhere to talk.

the air was thick around you as you tried to put together your thoughts and confront him with the ugly truth that left you feeling dirty.

"I messed up.." your eyes were glistening with tears that your were fighting back. chris just sat in front of you trying to take in what you were saying. you simply cheated on him..

"why.. how could you?" chris was completely shattered and realized how bad he made you feel that it led to this. you tried to apologize but was too choked up from crying. and now nothing could be done to fix this.

he knew you both messed up, he regretted his choices and hated himself for letting you drift away from him. he lost you way before you slept with that guy. now he would often think about how lucky that other dude was, he wished he was in his place, he wanted to hold you close and cherish your body like you were the rarest diamond, but it's too late now, all because he was scared of commitment. the idea of being someone's boyfriend terrified him and now all he do is cry at the memory of you.

he would imagine that you're back with him, his heart now was broken like that water fountain's handle. but he was willing to fix it for you. he thought that if you gave him a chance, he'll open his heart and give it to you. but it's all for no use now that he had lost you. the two of you were still young and naive to go through all that. but you can't go back in time and change it. you're not even friends anymore because you know you did each other wrong and no matter what you'll do it will only hurt you more. so you decided to walk away quietly from each other's lives for the sake of keeping your peace and your dignity. it was the right decision because you still cared about each other's happiness and comfort after all and regretting won't change a thing.

deviders by: @bernardsbendystraws <3

taglist: @anyaa2s @m0nsterhighluvr32 @ily-tothemoonandback @nateismybf @cupiidk1lls @sturniolos4life16 @breesturns @domtorettosfamily @mamamadssss @caroline12b @reader-lola @dealerchr1s @lemonhoney2460 @freakshow-420 @emely9274 @mattsturniolofuckingsexy @jessie-essie @marrykisskilled @meatballlover10 @chrissturnioloslvt @trevorsgodmother @sophand4n4 @stvrnioloslvt @sturnshood @chrisslut04 @courta13 @pair-of-pantaloons

[elixirfromthestars]

Oh. Oh. Ouch. My heart. 🤧💔💔 I read the warnings, I knew heartbreak was coming and yet—the angst still got me 🥺💔 But also now I want to fight Mr. Tony Stark himself for treating our poor reader that way 😤

More feelings under the cut ᯓᡣ𐭩

Don't catch feelings. He's a notorious heartbreaker & he won't be the one who would end up getting hurt once it's all over.

^ This is going to crush me, isn’t it? Brb, I’m going to go get my box of tissues 🤧

You were merely a distraction, a seat filler for someone who'd left him a broken shell of a man. A place you were content being in, for some time. Until you caught feelings.

^ Oh no, catching feelings for a heartbreaker never ends good my dear 🥺 But I also feel her so much, there’s like so many lines that can be crossed once you’re intimate with someone 🥺 And once those feelings happen it’s so hard to go back 💔

Tony seems to really be going through it, like sir please go see a therapist 🤧 Our poor reader’s heart can’t take all your entangled emotions ☹️

Broken or not, Tony was a generous lover. He paid attention to your needs and wasn't shy about asking for his.

^ Oh, Mr.Stark. If only you were generous enough to give us your heart 😔 You can tell how much they know each other physically, and their sexual chemistry is there too, so there’s this like underlying hope that, that chemistry can maybe branch out from where they’re at, but then with the pain/pleasure aspect it makes us question like how involved he is versus her 🥺💔

"This has to stop." He breathed, making your heart stop for a moment. His words didn't match his actions as he was still holding you close, still connected.

^ Excuse me??? Sir, this is not the time 💀 Give her a moment to wind down at least, omg 😭

"I know you, Y/N. I know that you...l know." He couldn't bring himself to say the words. He was well aware of your feelings.

^ *gasp* HE KNOWS?? THE AUDACITY!! 😧😠 She deserves better 🥺

He saw it all, and did nothing to stop you. The part of you that fell in love with this man secretly hoped he would stop you, fight for you and say it'd all be okay.

"I'm never going to be over you." You whispered right before walking out of the door, slamming it shut behind you, leaving Tony Stark for good.

^ You know what, screw the tissues, bring out the boxing gloves instead 🥊😤 Come here, Mr.Stark!! I just want to talk!! 😠 Our poor reader was in love 😭💔

My lovely, I am so happy to see you participated in another writing challenge of mine 🥹🩷 I got all excited when I saw you participated twice!! 💖💖 You broke my heart in this one, but it’s okay because I love angst 😌❤️‍🩹 Thank you so much for sharing your stories with us 🫶🏼🫶🏼

^ me by the end 💔

Don’t catch feelings

A/N: For @elixirfromthestars ‘s Writing Challenge Thank you for hosting the best writing challenges 💛 Leave a heart, comment or reblog if you enjoyed reading!

Pairing: Tony Stark x F! Reader

Warning: 18+ smut, angst. This ain’t a healthy relationship folks. This Tony isn’t your sweet, adorable, loveable Tony.

Prompts used: 🍫 ✩｡⋆⸜ "They warned me about you, I should have listened."

🏛...✩ I am never going to be over you. — Scandal

Tony Stark Masterlist

Don’t catch feelings. He’s a notorious heartbreaker & he won’t be the one who would end up getting hurt once it’s all over.

This was a mantra that was on loop in your mind, constantly, a warning that the rational part of your brain issued religiously. One that heart chose to ignore, time and time again.

He was everything you could ever want, and yet everything you could never have. Someone capable of giving you the world and capable of completely destroying it too.

That was the kind of power Tony Stark had.

You were merely a distraction, a seat filler for someone who’d left him a broken shell of a man. A place you were content being in, for some time. Until you caught feelings.

Feelings for a man who was so far lost in his genius mind, he seemed unable to find his way out. The Avengers had been at the crossroads, the Sokovia Accords broke the team, sides were chosen. Pepper Potts had left him & that just seemed like the straw that broke the camel’s back.

The forlorn genius, billionaire, playboy, philanthropist had found somewhat of a temporary solace in you. And you were there for him. In every way you could be.

“You're trembling. Is it the anticipation or just me?" His words broke you out of your reverie as your body instantly reacted to his touch, skin alive with goosepimples as his fingers trailed down your bare back.

You weren’t facing him in bed, you couldn’t when your mind was running a mile a minute. You hated the fact that a simple touch could make your body react in such a way. It belonged to Tony. You belonged to Tony.

Which is why when he tugged your shoulder to make you lay on your back, you did, and dutifully spread your legs when he crawled between them.

“You're mine tonight. Don't even think about leaving." He murmured, lips against your stomach as if reading your racing mind.

His touch was tender as his fingers danced along your soft and warm skin, lips trailing along a well-rehearsed path as your eyes closed and you surrendered yourself to his ministrations once again.

Paying attention to your pert breasts, he tweaked your nipples till they hardened into buds, your breaths now coming out as shallow huffs. You knew he was ready to go again by the way you felt his rapidly stirring cock that sat against his thigh, occasionally brushing with the inside of your thigh.

Fingers finding his short hair, you tugged on them firmly as Tony kissed his way up your neck, sucking on your skin, marking it as his. His cock leaked precum against your leg as he continued, his hips rutted subtly.

“Tony, please..” you breathed, already drunk on him as your arousal gathered between your legs, desire unfurling deep within your belly.

"I know exactly what you want, and I'm going to give it to you." He smirked, snaking a hand between your bodies to cup your sex.

You let out a gasp as his finger intruded your slick channel, another one joining in as soon as he got the reaction he’d hoped for. Your hips moved on their own accord as Tony continued to pleasure you.

Broken or not, Tony was a generous lover. He paid attention to your needs and wasn’t shy about asking for his.

And yet you wanted more. Your heart yearned for more than just a random fuck despite knowing you wouldn’t. It wasn’t too hard to fall for Tony Stark, in fact, it was probably the easiest thing you had ever done. A bright future with the man seemed like a distant dream and yet you continued to fantasise on.

Bringing yourself back to reality again, you found Tony’s mouth hovering over your clit, his fingers still working their way to your orgasm. Eyes darkened with lust, his tongue peeked out for a taste of you.

“You taste so sweet, Y/N.”

You could only moan in response, the assault bringing you closer to the edge as your walls fluttered around him, desperate for more.

You came hard against mouth, crying out his name like a prayer while your heart pounded against your chest.

In that blurry haze, you barely registered him rolling on a condom over his length and settling between your legs once more, claiming your mouth in a searing kiss.

“Want me to fuck you, baby?” His hoarse breath was hot against your ear as he parted your legs further, lining up his cock to your entrance, teasing and waiting for you to beg.

Nodding, you wrapped your arms around his shoulders, pulling him closer in hopes that he’d give you what you both checked into this expensive hotel for.

Taking pity on you, Tony slipped into your wet heat, letting out a grunt of satisfaction as your bodies connected.

He began moving, head dropped against your shoulder, his pubic bone brushed against your clit with every move. You felt your second orgasm building gradually but he pulled out of you abruptly, flipping you over so you were on your stomach.

Tony then wasted no time in taking what he needed. Slipping into you once again, he snapped his hips against yours in urgency, fingers digging into your skin deep enough to leave marks. This felt different, something that leaned more towards pain than pleasure. Gripping the sheets beneath you, you cried into the pillow, your voice muffled against the fabric.

You weren’t unaware about this sudden flip, it happened more often than not these days. You felt used, an outlet meant for his pleasure alone and yet you allowed this to continue. Because you were addicted. Addicted to the pleasure and pain. Addicted to Tony Stark.

His grunts filled the room as you felt him twitch inside, knowing he wouldn’t last longer now. Tears sprung to your eyes as his cock speared into you, you wanted nothing more than to get out of there to save yourself from breaking.

Tony came with a loud moan, emptying his seed inside the condom as his hips stilled, his forehead resting against your shoulder as caught his breath.

“This has to stop.” He breathed, making your heart stop for a moment. His words didn’t match his actions as he was still holding you close, still connected.

“What do you mean?” You were too afraid to hear the answer.

“I can’t do this anymore, Y/N. I’m not what you want, trust me.”

If only he knew how wrong he was.

“I know you, Y/N. I know that you…I know.” He couldn’t bring himself to say the words. He was well aware of your feelings.

“Tony, I—”

“Don’t say it. Please. You shouldn’t.”

You scrambled away after he pulled out and went to clean himself, gathering your clothes to get the hell out of there as quick as you could.

“They warned me about you. I should’ve listened.” Your tears burned against your cheek now, and you did nothing to hide them, wanting Tony to see the heartbreak he’d caused.

He saw it all, and did nothing to stop you. The part of you that fell in love with this man secretly hoped he would stop you, fight for you and say it’d all be okay.

“I’m never going to be over you.” You whispered right before walking out of the door, slamming it shut behind you, leaving Tony Stark for good.

[witchofhimring]

Disloyalty (Chapter 3)

Book One Masterlist

Synopsis: Your plan to entice Jaecerion in put into action. (Jaecerion x reader officially happening this chapter!)

Pairings: Aemond Targaryen x Tyrell Reader

Aemond Targaryen x Ellyn Baratheon

Alys Rivers x Aemond Targaryen

Jaecerion Targaryen x Reader

Jason Lannister x Reader (minor)

(more to come!)

Y/n Tyrells Profiles

Warnings: Angst, heartbreak, childbirth, emotional turmoil, death, unrequited love?, humiliation by Ellyn Baratheon, marital abuse, marital consummation, misogamy (internalized as well as external), brief depictions of smut, mentions of rape (not to the reader), morally grey reader

'Did you hear about Talia?' They were whispering over needle work. While present, you said absolutely nothing. Suppressing the urge to laugh was a considerable effort. Apparently Talia lost many valuable things in there at was forced to live in a lesser room for the time being. 'Serves her right.' You though.

Your fingers stroked the books worn covers. One would think that the royal library would be better looked after. Like all the other books this one provided little information you desired. Under different circumstances you might have enjoyed its contents. But time was of the essence. Soon you would be packed off to Casterly Rock. Determined not to have a repeat of your past, you had to find a way to stop it. There were few who could gainsay Jason Lannister, but you had just the person in mind. Jaecerion loved you. The only problem lay in whether he would say yes. Last time he asked proposed you were a widow and unattached. These circumstances were different. Well, if he knew. It occurred to you that Jaecerion might not have known ahead of time. Last lifetime Aemond had been unaware, so why should Jaecerion who was his younger?

That problem would need to wait. With more immediate concerns' you needed to focus o those, for now. Ever since the bathing fiasco Ellyn had made herself scarce. In any other situation she would have held her head up high. But to do so in this case may very well be deadly. Some did send their condolences, and in those conversations you mentioned how some of her friends might have known her intentions. Naturally this was all a lie, however it suited you well. No jabs were being made in your direction these days. No one wanted to get entangled in this mess.

Just as you were getting dressed that morning a knock sounded at the door. Answering is, Elinor was handed an letter. Your stomach went cold as you recognized the wax seal. The Tyrell rose, Jenna's symbol. 'Please leave.' Trying to suppress the shake in your voice you dismissed Elinor. 'Is everything well?' She asked. 'Yes. Now go.' You said it more forcefully than necessary. Alone now, you opened the seal.

Lady Y/n,

I heard about the events that took place recently, and can only say I am very shocked. Let us pray that this fiasco settles down. You must lay low for a while, for your future depends on it. Stay out of trouble and listen to the Dowager Queen.

Lady Jenna Tyrell

"Stay out of trouble." You snorted. The letter was burned. Staying out of trouble was hardly an option. Either way was an uphill battle. But this time you intended to will.

The current dilemma you faced was to rid yourself of that guard. Burning Talia's room was only possible because he had been paid of by Cerilla. If another was to take his place it must be your man. Despite being a Tarley you had little money to your name. Whatever was allocated to you for service was not enough to bribe someone. And even if this knight was rid of who was to say that the next was not also in Cerilla's pocket. The only solution was to find out how to prove it. Easier said than done. Cerilla might be in a similar position to yourself, but she had allies you did not and Jenna's wealth.

Wait. Was Jenna even aware of this? It would cost money Cerilla did not have, unless one was passing it to her. Someone who had the backing of House Tyrell. Jenna might be a vile hag but you suspected that spying on you at night was not her way. Given her wealth Jenna would have hired more able hands. No the fumbling efforts of Talia. Yet you could not be entirely sure. But there might be a way to find out.

Cerilla had her plots, you had yours.

Dear Lady Jenna,

I pray this letter finds you in good health. You are very right to say I should be careful, and resolve to do so. But there is something of great importance I must tell you. It concerns Lady Cerilla, the sister of your good-daughter. I fear she may be finding other ways to make money, or is in dept. She wears very fine clothing that would cost a greater sum than that allocated to her by The Crown. Several times I have found her out late at night and am very concerned for her safety. If this is mere fantasy I humbly beg your pardon.

Lady Y/n

Even if Jenna did see through the letter and knew you wanted to get Cerilla in trouble she would still investigate. And if evidence turned up which proved Cerilla was acting without her consent then your animosity to her would pale in comparison. The letter was sealed and sent. You watched as the pageboy carried it away. Hopefully soon the fruits of your results would be clear.

Meanwhile you busied yourself with getting the books out. Soon you would hopefully be moving rooms and you did not want to cause speculation. Now that the letter was sent you needed to focus of Jaecerion, and it had to happen before word got out of your betrothal. If you pressed your suit after the proposal House Lannister may consider than an insult. It must be done before. Now you were at the issue you had to think of when to ask. How should you approach it? Jaecerion had been in and out of The Red Keep.

There was still a life outside of your plots, insignificant as it was. Flora and Lady Lenita came and asked if you would accompany them to visit the Queen. You knew there was no point in visiting her. Helaena was utterly mad and nothing would heal her from losing a child. You still dreamed of Owen. His beautiful little face going off colour and ragged breaths. On those nights you woke up in a cold sweat and could not sleep. In those cases sleep was not an option. Instead you simply stared up at the ceiling, thinking.

You ended up not having to wait very long for Jenna's reaction, and it was everything you hoped for. No longer was anyone at your door. And word got around. 'Did you hear what happened to Cerilla?' Flora leaned over whispering in your ear. All the ladies were sewing in Alicent's tea room. People kept chatter to a quiet lull. Hiding you excitement, you simply said; 'What?' Flora leaned in closer. 'Apparently she ran afoul of her patron Lady Jenna.' 'Why? What did she do?' Flora looked around. 'We do not truly know. Money matters I think.' You tried to hide a smile.

A crumpled up butterfly lay at your feet. Its purple wings fluttered piteously in a vain attempt to rise. Stooping down you gathered it up. With its final dying struggles it desperately tried to escape death. Then it lay still, its feeble finds lightly fluttering in the wind. Looking closer you realized a red liquid oozing from its body. Staining your hands red, blood flooded in rivers down the palms of your hands, far to much for so small a creature. And it poured and poured until all the ground was red and you were drowning in the blood.

The quill scratched over parchment as you wrote everything down. Morning had only just begun, the first rays shooting across the lightening sky. Afterwards the book was hidden and you got dressed for the day. Today you went for something simple. That did not mean you were dressing without thought. The deep green dress presented your shoulders for a man's gaze, a sweeping train behind you. Only a golden necklace adorned you. Looking at yourself in the mirror and feeling satisfied you set out. Jaecerion was back after a short excursion. You wanted to greet him before anyone else did. Remembering the past did you good in cases like these. It also meant you knew that in a few days Jason Lannister would press his suit.

Jaecerion entered kings Landing on a horse, his dragon was too large to be kept within. His silver hair caught in the light and you felt something overcome you. He was beautiful. Muscles moved with each movement, honed by years of military exercise. Not many were in the courtyard this early morning. Due to the war the usual pomp and ceremony performed for the arrival of a prince was forgotten. This suited you well. Ones schemes were best left hidden until they took form. 'Jaecerion.' He saw you and smiled. 'Y/n, it is early.' He took you into his arms. And although the hug was friendly a secret kiss lingered on your cheek. Slightly longer than that between friends. 'Jaecerion, there is something I wish to speak to you about.' Curious, Jaecerion consented. A powerful force seized your belly. It was a combination of excitement and anxiety. Never before had you felt so in control. He looked at you as one looked upon a most precious object. Any which way you could pull him.

'Jaecerion!' Alicent was walking towards the pair of you, flanked by Criston Cole. She looked anxious, a normal condition for Alicent. 'Your Grace.' Sinking into a curtsey you inwardly cursed her. Now you would have to wait, and who knew what would happen between now and later. Who was to say Jason's suit would not be pressed on you sooner. Quickly you were dismissed, Jaecerion being whisked away to a council meeting.

A morning mist had settled over King's Landing. As you could no longer be in Ellyn's services you sat with Alicent's ladies. Today they were all crowded in the queen's rooms. No laughter or music brought harmony to these sorry women. Alicent had never been a merry queen, but grief had settled over all like a blanket. Stepping in you felt their emotions like a physical presence. Men might wage war, but women too felt the pains of battle. For a woman's battle always had to be on the inside. It was a silent war that tore at ones very soul. Sitting beside Flora you felt like you were falling. Suddenly all plots were swept aside. Jaehaerys and Owen's pale little faces peaked out at you from the darkness within your mind. The torches flickering above might as well have not existed. Shadow seemed to close in on every side, threatening to swallow every living person in that room. Not truly there, you absentmindedly stitched the tapestry. Who cared about it anyway.

Food felt stale and fire provided no warmth. Your entire being was absorbed with images of the past dead and vengeance. More nourishing than any early substance the feverish desire that consumed you was like the strongest elixir. Emotions swung between elation and grief. All you could do was wait for night to fall. Keeping your ears open you listened for any mention of a meeting. Hopefully this would not happen, for your plans could be impeded. Already you had a plan in place. You would hide behind the statue of King Jaehaerys near Jaecerion's room. Covered in a black cloak you would hide until Jaecerion arrived. At least that was the plan if Jaecerion was up late. You just had to get through today.

When night descended you did not go to bed. You suspected another guard (or spy) would be there. Just because Cerilla was out of action did not mean Jenna's guard was down. In fact she might have become suspicious of you. If everything worked out it would not matter how Jenna felt. As princess you would be more powerful then all of them. So, hoping that this gamble would pay off, you slipped off as the sun set. A strong wind bartered the keeps stone in a torrent of power. You listened its powerful howls outside. It brought you an element of peace as you waited. Through the window you could see the sun set, casting its orange ray across the darkening sky. Every footstep made you jump slightly and look in anticipation.

How long would he be? Your knees were starting to burn. 'Where are you.' You hissed under your breath. Feeling clammy and cold you dreamed of going to bed. With warm sheets and a nice hot fire in the fire place. Only your conviction was stronger than temporary discomfort. Exhaustion was starting to seep in but you held firm. Shaking hands threatened to loosen on the statue. Strong will was the only thing keeping you from tumbling down.

Then you heard footsteps coming down the hall. Looking over you finally saw him. Jaecerion was alone, thank goodness. Body shaking, you stumbled down from your perch and out into the light. 'Y/n' Jaecerion looked alarmed and you were quickly in his arms. 'Jaecerion.' You murmured. Feeling warm you snuggled up against him. 'I'll take you to my room.' You allowed Jaecerion to take the lead. A guard by his door gave you a look. 'You won't be giving me that look soon enough.' You thought. Jaecerion's room was mercifully warm. You took off the heavy black cloak and allowed the warmth that enveloped you. The dress you wore underneath was a rather plain green one. Yet it had an alluring effect, showing off your back and shoulders. You could feel Jaecerio's eyes on you. Good. 'Why are you out so late?' Jaecerion was only a few feet behind you.

'Its......' Your inability to properly covary the words were a combination of exhaustion and anxiety. You had planned this moment and yet when it came you were here there was nothing to show for it. Jaecerion, sensing your anxiety, took a cold hand in his. 'Y/n, are you alright?' Taking a small step towards him you looked into his eyes. They were beautiful. Your own were starting to burn. 'I'm afraid.' Your voice was small and so, so pathetic. Feeling small you wanted the ground to swallow you up into the darkness. This was not acting. Built up fear you had suppressed for weeks was becoming overwhelming. Physically you could not take it anymore. It was like being severely sick with a cold. You wanted to wail and be sick. There was a strong desire to tear your hair out and howl. Everything had happened so quickly that you wanted nothing more than to lay down and just sob. And it was not even like you could tell Jaecerion the whole tale. No one could now how you had been locked up, lost your son and been killed. Perhaps death was a sweeter end after all.

Suddenly you swayed on the stop. The fires light seemed nearly blinding as Jaecerion caught you in his arms. He was warm and safe. All that time locked up by Jenna had deprived you of human companionship. So absorbed with vengeance, you had not realized just how much you missed the company of others. Tears fell past your eyelids and down trembling cheeks. Jaecerion's strong arms wrapped themselves around you as he knelt on the ground. Fingers carded through your messy hair and Jaecerion soothed you between your shaking gasps. 'Y/n.' He sounded disbelieving and worried. His tone, however worrying it sounded, made a flood of security and tenderness run through you. In those long lonely months there had been no one to hold you like this. Ever since the war had started back in another life you had not known a moments security. All you could remember was death, of slit throats and hanging bodies. But for just a moment your thoughts were only of this warmth.

'Jaecerion.' Your arms wrapped themselves around his neck. Looking up you got lost in his eyes. It had been so long since you had felt so close to someone, and never so intimate. 'I'm afraid.' gently Jaecerion hushed you. 'I swear Ellyn will not harm you.' You looked away.' It is not just her. Everyone seems against me and I do not know what to do.' Leaning into his chest you closed your eyes. 'I do not see how you will be able to protect me, Jaecerion. 'His grip tightened. He took a weak hand in his and pressed it to his lips. You felt the warmth of his youthful lips on you. How good would they feel against yours. 'I swear to you that there is nothing I will not do for your safety.' He took you but the shoulders and you were kneeling in front of him. Face to face with the fire behind him Jaecerion's eyes were wild. His silver hair had the reflecting light behind it with a mesmerizing effect. 'Jaecerion....can you truly promise that?' He nodded, the reaction of a young man who thought strength alone could protect the woman he loved. But you knew better. Taking his pale face in your hands, you said; 'You are a prince and a good man. But I am a mere lady. Ellyn is a princess.' You tried not to spit out the title in a fit of anger and jealousy. Then you were thinking what else to say. He needed to see your way of thinking.

'What would you have me do?' If your were honest, you would have told him to marry you. But that may not work. He had to come to that conclusion on his own. 'I can do away with Ellyn.' Purple eyes went very dark, almost black in this light. A menacing presence issued from him and you marveled that he might be a very dangerous enemy. You had already accepted that Jaecerion killed Ellyn. Her death would serve no purpose to your cause. After your last life you had no wish to be accused of her murder again. 'No, that will be me little good. If anything happens to Ellyn then I will be blamed. I need to find a way to keep me safe, a solution that will keep me out of her clutches. Perhaps I can go to Highgarden. Maybe being out of her way she will forget about me.' 'No!' You barely finished the sentence before Jaecerion protested. He looked desperate and a pang of guilt hit you. But you were close now. You could smell it. Jaecerion stood, pulling you up. Taking you in his arms Jaecerion held you to him. 'Stay with me Y/n.' His voice uncharacteristically shook. Had anyone loved you like this? 'Then what will we do? You are a prince, but I a mere lady.' You did not hide the desperation in your voice.

'May me.' You could hardly believe it. Despite your hopes and planning his words still stunned you. It had actually worked, your plan worked. Swaying on the stop you gripped him tightly. Jaecerion, taking your state deriving from an unplanned outcome. Brushed your hair out of the way. 'If I marry you, I could keep you safe. As my wife you would carry the title of princess and under the crowns direct protection. Ellyn would not be able to harm you, ever.' Jaecerion then got down on one knee. Taking he hand he kissed it reverently, thumb caressing your ring finger. His lips, even after parting, were only a mere inches from your skin. 'If you were to marry me my life would be completely in your keeping. And I would do all to protect you....both of us. And I would love you. Cherish you more than any other.' Even if you had not planned this you would have been won over in a heartbeat. here was this beautiful young man pledging himself to you with a fervor none had shown you before. This plan was one truly mad. For a prince to marry without allowance by his king was dangerous. The woman married to him could face grave consequences. Neither of you cared, you in vengeance and lust, Jaecerion for passion. Now it was your turn to pull him up. And without thinking you kissed him hard. And before the fireplace he made his mark. Afterwards, as Jaecerion lay sleeping, you beside him, the ruby glittered in the firelight.

Notes: This chapter is quite a bit shorter than the rest because I could not find anything else to add. Next chapter will be longer and very interesting👀.

Taglist:

@daenerysqueenofhearts

@le-petit-lulu

@aemondswifeisme

@mandiiblanche

@gknj9495

@minakay

@strangersunghoon

@iilsenewman

@moonlightfoxx

@gknj9495

@heartb8k2

@dahlias-and-marigolds

@dumbhxeredrose

@m-riaa

@sweetsnow88

@blxkstar

@seomta

@sxlsvv

@ninihrtss

[deans-baby-momma]

**Summary**: When Jensen admits to going home with someone else, will his and Y/N's marriage survive?

**Warnings**: Angst, heartbreak, smut, language

Chapter 8

“What are you talking about?” Jensen cautiously asks his friend and castmate.

“This whole thing is a setup,” Misha tells the couple almost excitedly. “Athena has told everyone this fantastic story of her time with you but you see her friend is a fanfiction writer and what happened is exactly the way the friend’s story goes. Look’” he hands them the pages.

Jensen skims through the pages, handing each one to Y/N as he finishes. It appears that Misha is correct. Everything from meeting in a bar to going home with the reader and having some crazy, acrobatic sex ending in a pregnancy is in there in print. 

However, that is where the similarities end -well except for the sex- that didn't even happen. The story continues that Jensen agrees to be a father to the illegitimate child and the couple end up together. 

Jensen is seething as he finishes the last page and hands it off. He turns toward the room where the others are he has the desire to go in there and shout at Athena, her friend, and anyone else who gets in his way, he won’t but he’d like to. He is stopped by the sound of Y/N's voice as he takes a step toward the doorway.

“What are you going to do?” she asks her lip near to quivering.

“I'm asking for a recess or whatever the fuck will pause this whole shitshow!” Jensen answers with a flail of his arms. 

Jensen disappears into the room before returning a few moments later with Thomas Bell trailing behind him. He introduces the attorney to Misha and together they explain what the older man discovered. 

Y/N stood there listening while staring at the papers in her hands.When requested, she handed them to the lawyer and unconsciously held her breath while he looked them over.

“I'm going to get these copied and then present them for evidence. Mr. Collins,” he turns to Misha. “Are you willing to stick around and go on record stating how you came across this?”

“Absolutely!” Misha says with an enthusiastic nod.

As soon as the attorney walks away, Jensen and Y/N both attack Misha in hugs.

“Thank you man,” Jensen says as he pulls back. “With what Y/N just told me and your finding that, I might just get out of this.”

“Wait. What do you know?” Misha turns to her.

“A few weeks ago, I overheard this girl telling her friends about that night. But at that time, she said he bent her over the couch and fucked her hard and fast. But now she's claiming it was more intimate and in her bed, which is in the story, so….” Y/N  trails off as Mr. Bell returns to stand with the group.

“This is admissible as evidence of deception and misrepresentation so why don't we go present it to the defendant’s counsel, and see how they react?”

Inside the deposition room, Athena and her attorney are huddled together, speaking in whispers, although they are quiet Athena’s posture seems to be confident.

Jensen and Y/N take their previous seats as Misha takes one next to Y/N; Mr. Bell approaches the stenographer and announces that he has new evidence to address.

He hands one stack of papers to the lady and then heads to his seat next to Jensen. 

“It has been brought to our attention-” he announces as he hands another stack of papers to Mr. Howell. “-that Miss Haligan might be confusing fantasy with reality.”

“What is this?” Mr. Howell questions he skims through the first few pages.

“It's called fanfiction sir,” Misha pipes up. “Our fans write-”

“I know what fanfiction is, Mr. Collins!” the man sighs, “I was asking my client.”

Athena's whole demeanor changes. She slumps back in her chair and refuses to meet anyone's eye. 

“Also, the author of this particular piece goes by the Tumblr handle Deansgirl4ever-” Mr. Bell explains. “-and upon some investigation by my client's friend, this handle belongs to   Krissi Nelson.” He pulls his copy of the picture of the two friends and lays it flat on the table before looking over at Athena's friend. “Which happens to be you, correct?”

The two girls glance at each other and then Krissi nods slightly.

“You’ll need to speak up, we need verbal confirmation please, “ Jensen's attorney says.

“Yes, that's me,” Krissi answers.

“Thank you, Miss Nelson-” Mr. Bell nods at her and then turns his attention to Athena and her counsel. “Would you like to explain this?”

Athena starts crying and reaches for the kleenex box on the table. 

Y/N watches the girl's reaction and feels no pity whatsoever for her. This young girl almost broke up her marriage. 

“I-I'm sorry. I lied. Yes, I met Jensen at the bar and tricked him into coming home with me.”

“And what happened once you two arrived at your house?”

“I threw myself at him,” Athena answered truthfully.

“Why?” Mr. Bell inquires.

“Isn't it obvious?”

“We need you to verbalize your intent with Mr. Ackles,” Mr. Bell explains. “For the reporter.”

“I wanted to have sex with him so I could claim he was the father of my baby,” Athena admits.

“For the record, please confirm: are you pregnant?”

“Yea,” Athena whispers and then clears her throat. “Yes, I am 13 weeks pregnant.”

“Wait,” Jensen speaks up. “That night we met was only 7 weeks ago.”

Mr. Bell turns and looks at Jensen, silently admonishing and asking him to be quiet.

“So you were already pregnant?” he asks.

“Yes.”

“And where is the actual father?”

“I don't know. Don't know who he is,” Athena answers with a shrug of her shoulders. 

Y/N stands up quickly, knocking her chair back and to the ground and before anyone could do anything, lunges over the table and slaps the young girl.

“You fucking whore!” .

⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️

Preview of next chapter: “God, I'm glad that's over,” Jensen sighs as he lays his head against the headrest and closes his eyes.

“Me too but I still think I could've taken her,” Y/N says, causing Jensen to open his eyes to look at his wife. There is a slight smile on her lips.

“C'mere Ronda Rousey,” he chuckles, pulling her face to his and kissing her soundly. “Gotta admit that was kinda hot!”

She smiles up at him, and then he starts the vehicle and heads home.

TAGS: @spnbaby-67 @sea040561 @delightfullykrispypeach @larajadeschmidt13 @atc74 @vicariouslythruspn @squirrelnotsam @ironreviewangel @blacktithe7 @hoboal87 @mogaruke @supraveng @lyarr24 @kazsrm67 @chriszgirl92 @deanwithscissors @raisinggray @fanfic-n-tabulous @hobby27 @stoneyggirl2 @purpleeclipseeggsland @kmc1989 @leigh70 @nancymcl @muhahaha303 @justwhisperingfantasies @jackles010378 @monkey-d-hoshizora98 @deanna45 @ozwriterchick @mandee7 @spnaquakindgdom @impala67rollingthroughtown @generalmoonpolice @1313diana @roseblue373 @palerogue1 @deansimpalababy @queen-cs

[bidisasterevankinard]

Wip Wednesday

I started new wip. It's soulmate post-break up au. Yes, Buck is dying. Yes, he won't seek a treatment:

“New generation of medication is way better in allowing patients to feel way more emotions. Some of them even fall in love,” Dr. Salazar says, but Buck just scoffs.

“Yeah, I did it three times,” he looks at the window, “zero out of thousand. Do not recommend it. How much do I have before I die?”

“Mr. Buckley,” she starts but he holds his hand to stop her.

“I don’t want to be a robot. I want to feel anything I can before I die. I want to laugh with my family and friends, feel my love to them, be happy and cry from so much love holding my another nibling when they will be born. I’m ok with dying. I don’t want a treatment.”

He closes his eyes to breathe for a second, keeping his tears at bay. 

“Write what you need for the department, please. I'm a liability. For everyone.”

Dr. Salazar is silent with her big kind eyes scanning him, eventually she must have seen something because she goes to work and passes him all his documents.

“I still added the pamphlet about the treatment. Think about it carefully, Mr. Buckley. New medications come every day. You might have more than just some months with your family.”

Buck nods, not trusting his voice.

The truth is: he doesn’t want any more time for himself. What is the reason? To feel more heartbreak if the pills would allow him feelings? Be a robot who doesn't care about anything?

Dying is easier. Dying is freedom.

I was tagged by @diazsdimples @theotherbuckley

Np tagging @hippolotamus @mmso-notlikethat @quintessenceofdust88 @laundryandtaxesworld @typicalopposite @lavenderleahy @leashybebes @beanarie @bekkachaos @midsummersmorn @monsterrae1 @weewookinard @wikiangela @repressedqueen @ravipanikking @racerchix21 @bewilderedbuckley @bigfootsmom @bi-buckrights @evansbuck-ley @exhaustedpirate @epiphainie @devirnis @desert--moonchild @agentpeggycartering @aringofsalt @actuallyitsellie @aplaceinme @comfortingevanbuckley @tommysdaddykink @powersuitup @pirrusstuff and anyone who wants to

[dawngyu]

I’m late, I’m sorry, Serene… but I promised I’d be here for any CC, and here I am! First of all, I absolutely loved the playlist. And the title… :(((

Beomgyu catches your inner struggle, the already present smirk on his lips stretching wider. “So why are you?” He lets his head fall to the side, the question echoing down the vacant hallway. You knew why, yet you had hoped he wouldn’t ask. But of course, Beomgyu saw right through you, and he’d always known exactly where to push in order for you to finally crack.

The way you write him is doing things to me… SO INSANELY ATTRACTIVE. GOD, your writing.

The following paragraphs just highlight how deeply Beomgyu understands her—or, well, knew her. (She’s in denial, but still. I love her. I am her. Thank you.)

I still remember how haunted I felt when I first read this last tape—the note, the doubt, the endless question of what could’ve made her run. I kept imagining all the possibilities since it hadn’t been revealed yet why Beomgyu let her go. (The angst. Omg.)

His grip tightens before it eases, and with a quiet hum his knuckles caress your cheek, the action makes you shudder. “I am many things, dollface”, he murmurs as he lets you go, his hand slipping back through the small window as he takes a step back, the darkness of his cell immediately consuming half his face. — “But I am not that.”

No matter how many times I read this, it still hits just as hard. (This will always get to me, I fear.)

Soobin’s scene was absolutely adorable—he feels so much like home here. Another green flag man and I’m really excited to see where you take his character, or honestly, any of the characters you have!

OH, AND YES—how could I forget the moment she saw Beomgyu with another woman… She’s stronger than me, for real. And for the nth time, I absolutely love her inner monologues. Obsessed.

“If I was available right now?” He holds out the cigarette for you to take. Eyeing it with disdain for a moment, you decline by shaking your head, “I don’t smoke.” — Beomgyu cocks an eyebrow at you, “You’d be the first to decline.” He studies you for a moment, the corner of his lip twitching into a faint smirk. “But you’re the first of many things, dollface”, he says as he brings the cigarette to his lips.

OK, I forgive him (conveniently ignoring the glaring red flags, but honestly… your writing is so vivid, I can smell the smoke).

His urgent and almost feverish demeanor confused you. He could go weeks without as much as asking to see you, but when he did it was like he’d been starved of you for years. It didn’t make sense.

OH MY GOD, I WANNA CRY. You are truly the best at writing angsty smut—how am I getting sad while reading smut??

This was such a fun (and painfully heartbreaking) read. Now that we’ve completed all the existing tapes, I just know I’m going to die when you publish the next one.

Serene, wow. Can't wait for the next tape!! ><

𝐂𝐑𝐈𝐌𝐈𝐍𝐀𝐋 𝐂𝐎𝐍𝐒𝐂𝐈𝐄𝐍𝐂𝐄 TAPE 04

𝓓𝐑𝐄𝐀𝐌 𝓔𝐍𝐓𝐑𝐘 ⸝⸝ Moving rapidly through your career as one of the leading female investigators, you never once encountered a case you couldn't crack. Though you never expected for your past mistakes to come back and haunt you in the form of an ex lover, accused of murder. ⸝⸝

𝓹airings criminal!beomgyu x detective!reader 𝔀arnings drinking, kissing, vaginal fingering, public sex, creampie, biting? (lol how tf do I tag that), tiny bit of hair pulling (beomgyu receiving), smoking, references to blood but nothing detailed !

📼 THE TAPE RECORDINGS

𝓣𝐇𝐈𝐒 𝓢𝐓𝐎𝐑𝐘 contains dark themes portraying unhealthy and toxic relationships and substance abuse. reader discretion is advised ! — this story is partly told in flashbacks, beware of timestamps as past/present are mixed throughout the story.

#serene adds ✎.. SQUEE GUYS!! all of the tapes have officially been re-released! from here forward it will only be entirely new tapes !! I hope you guys are as excited as I am for this :3

[ ▶︎ •၊၊||၊|။| TAPE 04 ] — I Don't Smoke — recording length; 6.1k + PLAYLIST

📼 — PRESENT TIME ; February 20th 2024

You could not sleep that night. No matter how hard you tossed and turned, you couldn’t pull the images of him from your mind. Your conversation rings in your head, replaying itself over and over until every last word was engraved in your heart. The warmth of his breath against your face hovers above you, a ghost-like memory, an almost lucid one. 

With a tired groan you roll over on your stomach, burying your face in the pillow as you prepare to go through the evening’s events once more. 

“Yet you’re here.” — “But you shouldn’t be.” 

No. You shouldn’t be here. Seeing detained suspects outside of office hours, with no surveillance, it was most prohibited. Your mere presence here could quite frankly cost you your job, the one you had worked so hard for. But this was different. This wasn’t about now, it was about then. You weren’t a detective tonight, and he wasn’t a suspect. You were you and he was him. Just like it had been ten months ago. 

Beomgyu catches your inner struggle, the already present smirk on his lips stretching wider. “So why are you?” He lets his head fall to the side, the question echoing down the vacant hallway. You knew why, yet you had hoped he wouldn’t ask. But of course, Beomgyu saw right through you, and he’d always known exactly where to push in order for you to finally crack. 

Patience was not something he lacked and so he waited patiently when you fiddled with the back of your earring, twiddled with the hem of your sleeve, glanced down the corridor and then back up. Without the files in your hand, without his hands chained in front of him, and without the large metal table parting you, he somehow felt closer. This was far more intimate than any of your previous encounters since his arrival yesterday night. And you hate it. 

“I need answers.” Your voice is thick, laced with a hint of worry, constantly aware of the dangers of your situation. You were gambling with both your heart and your position here. — Beomgyu huffs, the sound coming out as a quiet chuckle when he shakes his head. 

“I thought that was what our sessions were for, no? He quirks a brow, but you know better than to fall for it. He knew that it wasn’t why you had come. — You shake your head firmly, “It’s not the kind of answers I want.”

His lip twitches, his smirk not faltering one bit. 

“Something you can’t share with that colleague of yours?” 

You frown, hands balling into fists by your sides. “Something that doesn’t concern him”, you state as you press your lips into a thin line. Your heart is beating loudly against your chest, its persistent thump playing in your ears akin to a heavy drum; a constant reminder of the power he still holds over you, even as he sits inside a small cell. 

Beomgyu hums, his fingers trailing the outline of the small window. You find your gaze lingering by the metal rings adorning them as they glint in the soft light coming from behind him. “Well go on then”, he pauses, dark eyes flickering from the dust on his finger and over to yours as they narrow, “You’ve never been one to shy away from asking questions, dollface.” 

You swallow. 

For the past ten months you had wondered what it would be like to come face to face with him once more. What would you tell him? Part of you wanted to blatantly ignore him, to act as if he had never even existed in your life. That was a satisfactory thought, one you allowed yourself to imagine in order to feel better. 

You knew that you wouldn’t be able to refrain from indulging as soon as your eyes landed on him though. There were at least a thousand questions soaring through your mind, questions you had longed to ask for what felt like forever. — But as you stand before him, with your heart beating out of your chest and sweat pooling on your forehead, you suddenly find yourself at loss for words. 

“That night”, you slowly begin, drawing your speech out as you try your hardest to gauge his reaction. He isn’t interrupting you, instead he waits patiently as ever for you to finish. “You did not come after me.” His eyes narrow. — “Why didn’t you?” 

He remains silent. And for a moment you worry that he might not give you an answer at all, it wouldn’t be the first he did. His brow twitches, and for a moment he looks almost confused. But that quickly fades and is soon replaced by his ever stoic expression. “Did you want me to?” He returns your question with one of his own. 

Did you want him to? Back then you had feared that he would.. But when he hadn’t.. When you had been left all alone with your own thoughts, the ones that had been chained under his presence, you suddenly found yourself lost. — “It doesn’t matter if I wanted you to or not.” You fold your arms across your chest, “Why didn’t you?” 

He exhales, the smirk on his face falling as his features twist into something gloomy. “I read your note.” The following silence is deafening, despite his words coming out a mere breath. You feel your blood go cold. — The note. You remember the small and wrinkly piece of paper all too well, the blurry lines you had so quickly scribbled down, the ink ruined by your own tears. You didn’t think that he had actually read it. It had merely existed to dull the ache of your own wounds, never had you imagined him actually… 

Suddenly the memories all come crashing down on you in picture perfect quality, the memories you had longed to forget. The blood, the blood on his hands. There had been so much blood. The red crimson had mixed with the rain, heavy and hard as it poured over you. Goosebumps rise on your skin and you pull your gaze from his. 

It had been a bad idea to come here. You should have stayed away. 

The cold metal of his rings startle you when Beomgyu’s hand suddenly reaches for your chin. You hadn’t realized just how close you were standing to the door. Close enough for his hand to reach through the small window, for his fingers to lock your head in place as they grasped your jaw. 

“Leaving so soon, dollface? — I thought you wanted answers.” His voice is low as he studies your frightened expression with a taunting one. Your wide eyes dart down the hallway before returning back to him. “Let me go”, you seethe as you try to shrug him off. 

His grip tightens before it eases, and with a quiet hum his knuckles caress your cheek, the action makes you shudder. “I am many things, dollface”, he murmurs as he lets you go, his hand slipping back through the small window as he takes a step back, the darkness of his cell immediately consuming half his face. — “But I am not that.” 

Then he turns away from you, and you can just about make out his figure in the dark as he heads for the small bed provided. He sits down on it, his elbows on his knees as he turns the rings on his fingers. — Everything is quiet, even the beating of your own heart has dulled into faint background noise. 

You let out a breath you didn’t even know you had been holding in. You knew that you weren’t going to get another word out of him, and with a defeated sigh you reached for the hatch on the window. But as your fingers grasp the small lock, he suddenly speaks up. — “You haven’t told them what you saw.” The statement sends a chill down your spine, because you knew exactly what he was referring to. You knew all too well. 

Beomgyu lifts his head, the dark strands of his long hair falling from his face. He turns your way, his dark eyes finding yours in an instant. “If you did, I wouldn’t be here right now.” The truth is harsh and bitter, it makes you feel guilty, ashamed even. But Beomgyu smirks, a small chuckle passing his lips. “Perhaps I was wrong about you, dollface.” 

His gaze zeroes on your hand, hesitating by the window hatch. — “Just how deep does your loyalty still run?” 

⸝⸝

📼 — April 29th 2022

“Oh please”, Kayla pleads, her voice sounds near desperate on the other line. You push your phone to your ear, balancing it on your shoulder as you continue to wipe down the table you had just cleared. “I don’t know, there’s just so much coursework and then I’m working again tomorrow afternoon.” 

You tried to swiftly avoid a blunt ‘no’ as you worked around your answer. Kayla had been pestering you to go out with her for days since it ‘had been so long’ since last. You knew better, it was just another excuse since she and her so-called ‘boyfriend’ were on yet another break and your friend longed to rebound with the first suitable candidate. 

Though you would admit that you had been neglecting your duties as her friend. From the dismissed texts to the unreturned calls. Suppose you felt guilty for going behind her back like this, you knew that Beomgyu was the last person she’d want to see you acquainted with, and you were doing just that. So you had distanced yourself. 

The right thing would be to go out with her, but tonight… It wasn’t like your excuses weren’t valid. You were busy, still, a small part of you wanted to keep your calendar clear, just in case Beomgyu would text. It was pathetic really, seeing as you hadn’t heard from him in nearly two weeks. — You bit your lip as you thought about what could possibly be keeping him from you. Work? You had no clue of what he did for a living for Beomgyu was very vague about his private life. He didn’t tell you much, then again, you never asked. 

“Fine”, you groan as you set the cloth aside to move over to the next table. Kayla squeals on the phone as she promises that the two of you are going to have a blast. Though your amusement didn’t quite reach her levels, you still agreed as you settled on details. — When the call ends you shove your phone back into your pocket to resume working. 

You’re about halfway done clearing the table, with plates stacked on both your arms as you maneuver around the chairs, when a voice from behind startles you. “Here, let me help you with these”, Soobin says as he takes a handful of plates from you. — “O-Oh! Thank you.” You give him a sheepish smile as you allow him to walk you back toward the kitchen doors. 

Soobin’s parents ran the restaurant you were working at, and despite him being a couple years your senior, the two of you got along well as he often stopped by to help his mom and dad out. — “How have you been?” He asks when holding the door open for you. Giving him a thankful nod, you shrug, “Tired, overworked and exhausted? – I’m just glad this semester is coming to an end in a month or so.” 

Soobin nods as he follows you over to the countertop, setting the plates down on it. “Fairs, you work hard.” He grins, “But it’s paying off well! Just imagine when you get your degree.” You hum as you pick up a plate and run it under the faucet, “You’re right.” One thing about Soobin was that he always seemed to get your mind off of things, whether it be school or work, or even Beomgyu.. His abilities to see things on the bright side seemed to lighten your own mood tenfold. 

He leans against the countertop, his arms folded across his chest as he watches you clean the dirty plates. “Got any plans for summer?” He asks and you purse your lips as you pick up a sponge and drench it in dish soap. “Dunno… I’ll probably pick up a few extra shifts around here, so don’t think you’ll see less of me.” You send him a small smile before your attention returns to the dishes in front of you. 

Soobin chuckles as he runs a hand through his dark hair. “I wouldn’t want it any other way”, he mumbles. “My parents love you”, he then adds, and you feel heat rushing to your cheeks at the sudden compliment. “I’m sure they’re more than thrilled to have you here all summer.. Just don’t forget to take some time for yourself as well”, he then adds. 

You raise a brow as you shoot him a side glance. “Are you trying to rid yourself of me?” you tease, expecting nothing more but a laugh in return. Soobin however, shakes his head. “Certainly not”, he says as he takes the now clean plate from your hands in order to dry it. — “On the contrary”, he clears his throat, “I was going to ask if you could somehow fit me somewhere in your hectic calendar.” 

Your hand misses the glass you were aiming for and instead your fingers fumble against the bubbles that had formed due to the soap as you blink up at him. Sure you and Soobin spent a great deal of time together, and you considered him a good friend, but that was all thanks to your job at his parent’s restaurant. You never saw each other outside, yet here he was openly asking for such a fact to change? 

He’s quick to note your hesitation and hurriedly adds, “Only if you’re up for it of course!” He clears his throat, scratching the back of his neck sheepishly. “Me and a couple of friends are renting this place not far from the city, I would love for you to join us..” — You watch as he fiddles with the cloth in his hands, anxiously awaiting his response. 

You hadn’t thought of Soobin much that way, but as you regard the soft tint to his cheeks, the way his gaze flickers between the floor and you nervously, you can’t help but find him cute. “I would like that a lot”, you send him an equally shy smile and Soobin’s face immediately lights up. 

He looks like he’s about to say something else but before he gets the chance to, a hoarse voice breaks the silence. “Young man!” You immediately recognize it as none other than your own boss. Soobin cowers behind you as the elderly lady approaches the two of you with rapid steps. Though his attempts at seeking refuge prove futile as she grabs ahold of his ear, yanking down on it hard. 

“What do you think you’re doing? Waltzing in here and distracting my best employee from her duties!” Her harsh tone makes your eyes widen and you almost drop the plate still in your grasp. Soobin winces as he puts his hands up in surrender, “Mom, please! We were just..” — “Just what?” She retorts as she gives his ear another pull. 

Baffled, you bite back a smile, “It’s no trouble Mrs Choi. He’s been helping me out with the dishes.” Your attempt at soothing her fragile nerves seemed successful as the old woman let go of her son and straightened her back, even then, she just barely reached your chest. 

“Hmpf, as long as he makes use of himself I suppose..” She mutters as she sends Soobin a glare, one he returns with a frown as he cradles his ear. — “But I don’t even work her-” He cuts himself short with a small cough when his mom raises a threatening fist his way, “Alright! Alright!” 

Mrs Choi turns her attention to you as she flattens out the apron over her legs. “Very well. Are you staying for dinner, dear?” She asks, her once bitter expression replaced with a warm one. You quickly nod before politely accepting her offer, “I would be delighted to.” 

Your throat burns as you down your third shot of the night. Upon setting the empty glass down, you lean against the bar top as your eyes wander across the crowded dance floor. People were pushed up against one another, their bodies moving uncoordinatedly yet somehow beautifully. — “You wanna dance?” Kayla asks as she sets her own empty shot glass down. 

True to her word, she had stuck by you the entire night, the main reason being the fact that she had yet to scour out a worthy candidate to accompany her home. Still, you couldn’t deny the sense of comfort her chaotic presence brought your tense nerves. “Sure”, you grin as you allow her to take your hand in hers.

The floor moves in rhythm with the beat, your knees feel wobbly but you manage to remain standing through it all. Even as Kayla twirls you in her arms, just barely catching you again as she giggles. Some songs are familiar, others aren't, that didn’t matter much. You found yourself having a lot more fun than you had originally anticipated. And as the night went on the guilt you had been carrying seemed to lessen. 

Perhaps this had been just what you needed, an escape from your otherwise mundane reality. The one where you waited on someone to call, like a lost puppy astray without its owner. Only that someone hardly seemed to care for your longing touch. 

Beomgyu was always on your mind, so much so that sometimes you thought you saw him in other people. In class, at work, even on your way home, you thought you could catch a glimpse of him through the corner of your eye. But as you turned around, you found yourself disappointed yet again. 

So when you’d seen his dark shadow moving across the outskirts of the dancefloor you had brushed it off as another trick of your mind, nothing but the alcohol and your insatiable need for him speaking. But then as Kayla twirls you around once more and your gaze falls on his figure, leaning against the wall, you knew that this wasn’t another of your hallucinations. 

It was undeniably him. Dressed in all black, he nearly blended with the dark wall behind him. The moment is over before you can as much as blink and then you’re back in Kayla’s arms. But for that short second you could’ve sworn that your eyes had met. Your heart nearly stopped. — He quickly disappears from your line of sight as the crowd around you presses closer and you helplessly search from you, completely forgetting about Kayla who was watching you with a frown. 

Fate was cruel. It seemed to know exactly when you craved him the most. Then it would taunt you by flaunting him before your very eyes, close enough to just barely send your mind spiraling, but far enough to remain out of reach for your desperate hands. 

Then, your eyes fall on her. She looks no different from the women he’d been surrounded by that night, the night when you had first met. Her smile is deceiving, her nails sharp as they trail his chest. He leans closer, an arm snaking around her waist, dark hair tickling her face when goes to whisper something in her ear. You can’t hear her laugh but you can see it. And it fucking hurts. 

The rings on his fingers glint under the flashing lights as they brush against her naked thigh, inching closer to where her short skirt ends. He was… You turn your head away in disgust, swallowing the lump in your throat when your gaze meets Kayla’s. 

Your hand is sweaty as you grab hers, and before you know it you’re pulling her along as you push your way through the crowded dance floor. Her protests go over your head, and your grip only grows harsher when she tries to break free. It felt as though you were walking through quicksand. You were sinking faster than you were running. 

It’s not until the cold night air hits your scorching hot face that you finally let her go. The back door slams shut behind you, the sound echoing off the vacant alleway. “What’s gotten into you?” Kayla shrieks as she jerks her hand back, cradling her wrist to her chest with a deep frown on her face. — You don’t answer her as you allow your body to slump against the rough brick wall. 

You breathe in through your nose, letting the fresh air fill your lungs as you trap it there. When you exhale through parted lips you let your eyes flutter closed. “Just needed some air”, you murmur. 

Kayla huffs, sounding deflated as she, too, leans against the side of the building. “You okay?” She whispers, this time her voice is laced with concern. You can feel her gaze on you as she studies your absent expression. “Yes”, you nod. — She pauses, “Do you want to get out of here?” 

You shake your head. “No, I’ll be fine.” You’d be damned to let something as simple as this ruin your night out. Except, Beomgyu was anything but simple. The thought of leaving was tempting, but you told yourself that you had run away for the last time. This wouldn’t change anything. 

“Go on back inside, I’ll join you in a few.” Cracking an eye open, you give your find a reassuring smile. And though she seems far from convinced she nods. “Text me if you change your mind”, Kayla says as he places a quick kiss to your cheek. 

You wait until the door closes behind her before resting your head against the hard brick. Taking the quiet moment to glance around the desolate alley, you find nothing but overcrowded trash cans and empty beer bottles littering the streets. You were all alone, at last. — With a content exhale you close your eyes, basking in the comforting silence that had enveloped you. 

Perhaps it had been rather childish to make such a dramatic exit, but in that very moment, it had been your only escape. You hadn’t seen him like that since.. Since you first met. And after almost two weeks of not seeing one another once, he seemed to be doing just fine, acting as though the whole world laid at his feet. — All the while you struggled to even go a day without him, desperately waiting on a single text in his name. God, when did you allow yourself to stoop to such a level. 

Why was it so easy for him? It was all games and fun in his world. Why could you not share his carefree ways? Why did you have to be the only one suffering from a seemingly pleasure filled agreement? It was unfair. 

Was he not as addicted to you as you were to him? 

Fine. It didn’t matter, nothing mattered anymore. He was off doing god knows what with that chick and you were… here. No, not anymore. You inhale, preparing to put on the strongest of fronts and go back inside. — But before you’re able to let said breath go, the door next to you opens. 

You remain still, completely unmoving as you wait for whoever has come to pass again. They never do. And soon you feel another warm body join you as they, too, lean against the cold brick wall. Everything is quiet, everything is still, time is frozen. 

Carefully you listen as they shuffle about, likely rummaging through their pockets in search of something. Then a click, the one a lighter makes. The smell of thick black smoke hits you not long after and you nearly turn your nose up in disgust. — Next to you, the person exhales, a long and heavy breath. 

“Not even a hello?” 

Beomgyu’s relaxed voice sends a chill down your spine and your eyes snap open. You had known that it was him from the moment he’d stepped outside. Still, you had allowed yourself to blissfully ignore his presence until he decided to make it known. — You keep your eyes on the messy graffiti covering the brick wall opposite you. Following the scribbly lines, you draw in a short breath. “I didn’t think it would be appropriate to.” 

Through the corner of your eye you could see him bring a cigarette to his lips. The end lights up when he inhales slowly, his hand returning to his side once more. He exhales the thick smoke, almost as poisonous as himself. “No?” He hums and even though you refuse to turn his way you can still feel his piercing gaze on you. 

“No.” You firmly agree as you fold your arms across your chest. “You looked… Busy.” With the subtle clearing of your throat you avoid directly targeting the fact that he’d had both eyes and hands on another woman just moments prior. 

But your vague answers didn’t discourage him in the slightest as Beomgyu scoffs. “Does that matter to you?” He asks the question as if you were the one in the wrong, making you out to be a fool for thinking otherwise. You bite your lip, your arms pulling tighter around yourself as you keep your gaze set ahead. 

“Why wouldn’t it?” 

You were being truthful, as honest as you could be. It took everything in you to lay your insecurities bare, and even then you were unable to hide the jealous sting in your voice. The thought of that woman, of all the others.. It made your face twist into a scowl without you even registering it, making your chest contract and your stomach hurt. 

And while Beomgyu had made it clear that what you had was purely sexual, you couldn’t help but find yourself doubting his actions. Things just didn’t add up. He treated you so differently, yet like nothing at all. — Why did it bother you so much that he could so easily venture off with another woman whilst you struggled to even think of a man that wasn’t him. 

Beomgyu hums, the sound low and eerily calm as he takes another drag of his cigarette. “And if I wasn’t busy?” He asks as he twirls the cigarette between his fingers. His questions leaves you unprepared, catching you completely off guard and you purse your lips as your gaze drops to the pavement in front of you. 

Would you have approached him if he was by himself? Would you have asked him to dance, would you have let his hands wander in front of everyone? Perhaps you would’ve asked him to take you somewhere private, maybe you wouldn’t have had to ask at all. 

“I don’t know.” You finally state as you turn your head in his direction, getting your first proper look at him that night. His head is tilted down, causing his dark hair to shield his expression from your curious eyes. Though you could tell that his attention was fixed to the cigarette between his fingers. His lips were slightly parted, his tongue swiping across his bottom one absentmindedly. 

“It’s hard to know when you’re available..” You quietly add and Beomgyu’s eyes flicker toward you. Feeling yourself tense up under his gaze, you shift against the wall as you avoid making direct eye contact. 

“If I was available right now?” He holds out the cigarette for you to take. Eyeing it with disdain for a moment, you decline by shaking your head, “I don’t smoke.” — Beomgyu cocks an eyebrow at you, “You’d be the first to decline.” He studies you for a moment, the corner of his lip twitching into a faint smirk. “But you’re the first of many things, dollface”, he says as he brings the cigarette to his lips. 

You regard his relaxed posture with a frown. First of what? Sometimes it felt as though you and Beomgyu were playing an endless maze-like game, where every twist and turn led you into further confusion, forging new paths that didn’t make half as much sense as the previous one had. He, on the other hand, seemed to be holding all the cards, and you just aimlessly wandered. 

The brief conversation only served to frustrate you further and with a small sigh you push yourself off the wall as you make a move to go around him and back inside. But as your fingers brush the cool handle of the door, his hand suddenly wraps around your wrist, effectively freezing you in place. 

Confused, you try to pull away from his harsh grip. “Don’t you have someone waiting for you in there?” You retort, unable to hide the snappy tone you used. — Beomgyu drops the cigarette, crushing it under the sole of his shoe before shoving you back against the brick wall, easily pinning you against it. 

“No.” He simply states as his dark eyes rake over your stunned expression and down to your skimpily dressed figure. “Told you I was available right now, didn’t I?” He drawls, his hot breath mere inches from your already heated face. 

“But what if I’m not available?” You counter, only to watch the once faint smirk on his lips widen tenfold. “You wouldn’t have ran out here if you were.” Fuck, so he did see you. You’re certain that he can feel the warmth on your face when his thumb brushes over your cheek, threatening to ruin your neat makeup. 

“Fuck, do you always look this dolled up? Even when it’s not for me?” He murmurs, a small almost unnoticeable frown tugging on his brows. His gaze drops to your lips, coated in a shiny gloss. — His mouth is on yours before you can even think, much less form a coherent response. He wastes no time as his rough hands cup your face, pulling you impossibly close only to push his tongue inside your waiting mouth. 

You gasp against his lips, eyes wide as your hands frantically push at his chest. “Wait! Not here- What if someone sees?” 

Beomgyu chuckles, a low and raspy laugh that vibrates on your tongue. His hands leave your face, eagerly descending down your chest, brushing over your already hardened nipples, concealed only by the thin fabric of your dress. — You let out a startled yelp when the cold metal of his rings make contact with the back of your thighs as Beomgyu hikes your legs around his waist; his lips moving down your jaw as he presses hungry kisses to your skin. 

His urgent and almost feverish demeanor confused you. He could go weeks without as much as asking to see you, but when he did it was like he’d been starved of you for years. It didn’t make sense. However you find yourself both unable and unwilling to question his strange behaviour further when his hands suddenly push your already short dress up above your hips. 

“Beomgyu I’m serious!” You whine, yet you find yourself pulling him closer, your nails digging into his shoulders. No matter how hesitant the public display made you feel, you were unable to hold back from satiating the craving you’d been trying to feed for so long.

He scoffs when he sees you throw an anxious glance down the empty alley, your gaze lingering by the door he’d emerged from not long ago. “C’mon dollface, don’t go shy on me now”, he taunts against your neck before pulling your skin between his teeth, making you cry out. 

Fuck it. At least he was here with you and not the woman he’d been feeling up not even an hour prior. You were all that mattered to him. Right? That’s why he’d gone after you, only you. It’s what you tell yourself, it’s the only truth you’re willing to swallow, the only thing that would make you feel better about this. Knowing that you were special. 

Your eager hands move along his shoulders, past his neck and through his dark hair as you yank his face back up to yours, reconnecting your lips in a feverish kiss. You can feel his smirk, stretching wide across his lips when you push your tongue inside his mouth, not bothering to care for the taste of smoke that still lingered there. Pleasantly surprised by your demanding ministrations, Beomgyu lets you pull his bottom lip between your teeth, groaning when you bite down. 

His expression is smug when you pull back for air, his fingers slipping beneath your panties to drag across your throbbing cunt. — Your cunt that had craved him almost as much as your restless mind. 

“Why haven’t you texted me?” Your voice is unstable and threatens to betray you when he pushes two fingers inside of you, almost immediately curling them as he makes your back arch off the wall. Beomgyu’s lips return to your neck as he kisses his way to the shell of your ears. “Don’t be greedy, dollface”, he murmurs as he sucks your lobe into his mouth, rolling the silver of your earring against his tongue. “You already have so much.” 

But it wasn’t enough. 

You frown, wanting to object but quickly losing all your composure when the tip of his cock prods against your aching cunt. Your head hits the brick behind you as Beomgyu eases himself inside of you, a muffled groan passing his lips. — With an anxious gulp you glance toward the door, eyeing it nervously. 

Setting a quick and rough pace, Beomgyu’s fingers clasp around your face, digging into your cheeks as he shifts your attention back to him. “If they see, they see”, he grunts as his hips snap against yours. Meekly nodding, your hands fall back onto his shoulders as your moans fill the empty alleway. Even if no one saw you, they were bound to hear you. For some reason that thought thrilled you more than you ever imagined it would. 

The thought of everyone knowing what he was doing to you. That he was doing it to you and no one else. Only you. 

You knew that your attachment to him was becoming increasingly worrying. You should have probably distanced yourself a long time ago. Because you knew that this wasn’t just about the sex for you. Everything about Beomgyu drew you in. He was intoxicating, almost like a drug. That’s what made him so difficult to leave. Once you tried him, everything else seemed bland. Most of all, you could never seem to get enough of him, for he always left you craving more. 

And you would do anything to get him. 

Even now, as you smell the perfume of that woman all over him, you still crave him. All you can think about is him, all you can breathe is him and all you need is him. 

“Have you fucked her?” The question slips before you can stop it. Your nails claw at his shoulders, pulling a strained groan from him. You didn’t care if he had, not anymore. All that mattered was the fact that he was here with you right now. You desperately told yourself that his answer wouldn’t matter, that you could take it. 

“No.” 

Wait, he didn’t? Your jaw falls open, completely ignorant of the fact that his cock was still buried deep inside of you as your mind spiraled. A smug feeling bloomed within your chest, and it should have been a worrying one, but you could only relish in the fact that he had chosen you over her. He’d chosen you over all of them. You were special, right? 

When he finishes inside of you is when you’re certain that you are. You moan at the feeling of being filled to the brim with everything that was Beomgyu; letting him shove his fingers inside your sore cunt as he pushes his cum back inside, mixing it with your own orgasm before he brings his drenched fingers to your face. 

Your lips part as he smears the mess all over them, glancing up at him with a dazed and almost blissful expression. — “You really are a doll, aren’t you?” He murmurs as he watches your tongue dart out ti swipe across your wet lips, a small groan being pulled from his throat. 

If spending almost two weeks desperately longing for him was what it would take for something like this to happen, you would do it all over again, for as many times as you would have to. Because that’s what addiction was like. And oh how you were addicted to Choi Beomgyu.

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[owlhead650]

I remember reading about how some other pokemon rejuvenation players, those who experienced early versions of the game, felt that the old Melia wasn't a good friend. They felt that Melia only kept the interceptor around because they were useful, like her favourite sword or something.

I haven't played these early versions so I don't know if that's a fair assessment, but I do know that the devs almost definitely never intended for the dynamic to be seen this way. Maybe Melia just wasn't written as empathetic enough. Maybe her vibe was different to the version of the character I first knew.

So getting to the point, I think M2 was attempting to manufacture exactly this dynamic between herself and the renegade interceptor. She stated in her diary that the interceptor is the one who she hates most in the world, probably because of the heartbreaking betrayal. Yet this betrayal wouldn't have hurt so much if she never cared. Melia always cherished her bond with the interceptor, but perhaps M2 tried to soften the pain of betrayal by telling herself that she really was just using them. When she gets the interceptor to help her with the (s)hit list she probably thinks that it's mission accomplished. She's got them now! They're doing as she says! Ha...!

Except that's not the truth. It wasn’t the truth back then and it isn't the truth now. The interceptor only takes orders when it suits them to. They could walk away at any time but chose to stay. I think that's why the vacation to hoenn ending is a thing. Not just a joke, that ending shows that from the start the interceptor could've walked away from everything.

Honestly I find it so telling that although M2 hates the interceptor, they're the first person she turned to for help. She knows she can rely on them. She knows that they'll never fail her, whether that's as a friend... or an enemy.

[literatemisfit]

David writes for Radio Times on his experience hosting the BAFTAs last year.

"The BAFTAs are supposed to be kind. Last year we weren’t trying to roast people, but there was a joke about Cate Blanchett, and she looked a little bit annoyed, a little bit pissed off. And I remember going, “Oh God, no. I think you’re brilliant. I was just trying to be witty and make a point about how you’ve got lots of prizes, and we love you.” So, I think if I’ve learned anything, it’s probably that I’m not interested in picking fights or making anyone feel in any way uncomfortable. If I have a style, it’s only that."

...

"I don’t feel, internally, “famous”. I have an awareness of a lack of anonymity. Any sense of success is all shrouded in Scottish Presbyterianism. So none of it ever feels like you can fully enjoy it, or feel entirely relaxed, because that would be presumptuous. As a nation, we are always much more comfortable slagging ourselves off."

...

"Being without my parents now is miserable. My mum never got to meet any of my kids, and that’s a bit heartbreaking, because she would have loved them. My dad got to meet all but one, and that – obviously – was wonderful, but their memories of him are fading…"

"My parenting style is different. Because my parents were very consistent and very solid, I never doubted for a second that they were absolutely committed to us without that ever being stated. That’s the bit that’s quite interesting, because in our house now, everyone’s saying "I love you" all the time. It’s lovely, and I love it, but it’s very foreign to me. I don’t remember that ever being said in our house growing up. I mean, I never doubted it was true but it was never said out loud."

"I’m very protective of my children. When you know that it can be really horrible being “famous”, I think you try and protect your kids from the worst of it, while enjoying some of the privileges. As a parent, you try to have the best of both worlds, and inevitably you fail. But that, I suppose, is the aspiration, and that allows you to alleviate the guilt over the s**t stuff that visits."