#these were thought of on the spot so it may change as i draw more stories BUT THIS WILL DO FOR NOW HEHEH

[stunie]

“THAT WASN’T MY NAME.”

WINDBREAKER BOYS + SAYING THE WRONG NAME. ft. hayato suo, kaji ren, nirei akihiko, & sakura haruka x f!reader

content: explicit smut (18+), fellatio, overstim, choking, teasing, (kind of) brat taming, multiple rounds, mentions of creampies, usage of pet names, individual tags below.

mdni - 1.5K wc. filled request!

HAYATO SUO. very mild brat taming, usage of pet names

“Oh? That’s not like you, love.”

His gaze remains gentle, eyes intent on watching the way your cunt flutters so desperately around his length, your legs wrapped tightly around his hips to try and pull him deeper inside— but he doesn’t let you, of course.

Suo has always been a tease. He likes to get you pent up like this, get you needy and frustrated until you’re clutching onto him and whining for him to stop and give you more, but he admits that he may have gone just a little bit too far today.

He’s brought you to the point where you’re moaning his friend’s name just to pull a reaction from him, and he knows painfully well that it’s your last resort at getting under his skin— because he knows your thought processes and tricks like the back of his hand.

So the fact that it actually worked is just that much more infuriating to him.

“Thinking about someone else? How rude of you.”

The way your walls tighten around his length in response to his change in tone doesn’t go unnoticed by him, and you really couldn’t have been more obvious if you tried.

“Oh, I see.” He continues, pushing himself just an inch or two deeper- just enough to draw a lewd moan from you. “You just enjoy being put in your place, hmm? Is that it?”

The way your eyes widen at such a suggestion is almost endearing, your head quickly shaking back and forth as you protest, blurting out a jumbled mix of “of course not” and “you’re just hot when you’re mad..”

Absolutely anyone could read you like this, especially with the way you’re peering up at him so curiously through your lashes to gauge each and every reaction he might make. He already knows without you telling him that there’s nothing in that brain of yours besides your fantasy of him pounding into you at his full strength, maybe even pinning your wrists above your head while he’s at it.

“You really should have just asked me, love.” Suo’s fingers wrap gently around your neck, a part of him content with the way you perk up in anticipation from something as little as that.

“..Because I didn’t like that act of yours very much.”

He’s thrusting into you once again before you even have time to think, angling himself to slam deep inside as your arms scramble to wrap around his shoulders, pulling him closer as you yelp. You accidentally pull him deeper inside you like this, and Suo fails to mask the way his face contorts at the sudden tightness.

“O-oh?” His voice holds an unfamiliar breathlessness to it, “I didn’t know you were so needy today.”

“Ah- because it’s so deep!” You stammer, loud moans going straight through his ear. His unrelenting pace is so foreign to you, and you don’t know how he’s still so precise, aiming to pummel the exact spot that has you seeing stars the fastest- and you’re not sure if you can handle this much.

You let go of his shoulders, arms coming to shield your eyes as they roll back into your skull, your back arching in a futile attempt to escape the overstimulation.

“Oh— no,” Suo’s voice cuts through the air. “We won’t do that.”

He’s pinning your hands far above your head in one swift movement, frame towering over yours as he rolls his hips into you harder. “S-suo, it’s too much!” Your words come out slurred, expression contorting with how quickly you’re approaching your high.

“This is just the beginning love. We’re gonna play out all those fantasies you’ve had tonight.” His grip around your wrists tighten slightly. “So no more running from it. Okay?”

KAJI REN. neck kisses, choking (barely), usage of pet names, jealousy?

“Oh.” You turn your head to look up at your boyfriend when his thrusts come to a complete halt at the realization of what you just said. “I meant to say Kaji.”

There’s an uncharacteristically long silence from your boyfriend, the only sound in the room being your giggle as you try and wiggle your ass against his hips to rile him up even more. “Sorry,” your voice shifts to a stifled laugh. “Don’t worry though, I was just kiddin-ah!”

You’re pulled up with ease when his hand wraps around your neck, guiding you back until you’re pressed flush against his strong chest, your head falling back to rest on his shoulder.

“Think you’re funny, huh?” His thumb comes to roughly tilt your chin to the side, letting him grunt into the skin of your neck.

The new angle has you trembling, eyes widening with how much bigger he feels inside you like this. He’s stretching you out so much more than before, his fat tip nestled uncomfortably against your cervix as he holds you in place.

“Real funny, princess.” You hear his click his tongue in annoyance.

The feeling of his breath fanning against your skin has your breath hitching in your throat moments after, his lips just barely ghosting over the sensitive skin of your neck. “Got me reall good.” He repeats slowly, lips tantalizingly close to your skin. “I don’t wanna hear that guy’s name leaving your mouth again.”

“Prank or not.”

It’s not like kaji isn’t aware of how silly he looks right now, jealous and angry over a minor prank like this one, but he can’t help it, not with the way the name rolled off your tongue in such a sickeningly sweet way.

He wants to hear you moan his name instead. Wants to hear it again and again until he’s no longer green with jealousy.

A shiver of anticipation courses through your body when he starts trailing wet and sloppy kisses along your skin, each touch sending a wave of pleasure straight through your core. He’s rough with it, a stark contrast to the way his finger is gently circling at your clit, just the way you like it.

“A-ah!” You moan when he starts sucking at the skin, inhaling sharply when he catches a faint whiff of your perfume. “K-kaji, that feels good.”

He almost groans at the sound of his name again. “Again.” He growls, lips returning to give you another mark on the side of your neck. “Say that again.”

You were his- his only, and he was gonna make sure everybody knew that by the end of tonight.

NIREI AKIHIKO. mention of creampies

“S-sorry,” Nirei mumbles. “That was a lot, huh?”

He watches with a heavy blush across his cheeks when your fingers come to collect the cum that he’s shot directly onto your tits, his cock throbbing when you slowly drag your tongue up your hand.

“It’s okay, Sakura. Oh— wrong name.”

He blinks a couple times before his heart sinks into his stomach. His first thought was that he just heard you wrong, but there was just no way that was possible.

“..Sakura?”

His expression shifts from confusion to worry, then to a frustrated pout when you start laughing. “I’m just kidding!” You giggle, laugh trailing off to a concerned hum when his eyebrows stay deeply furrowed.

“Oh? Was that too mean, Nirei?”

You watch him closely when his hands come to pull you by the waist, your own arms coming to wrap around him, but he doesn’t let you. “You know,” he starts, and he’s grabbing both of your wrists before pinning you beneath him, “I change my mind.”

Your tits bounce a bit when your back hits the mattress, your chest still covered in his cum, and he wishes time could stop for a brief second so he could stare and admire you like this for just a little longer without looking like a total creep. It doesn’t help when you’re staring up at him like that too, your mouth still parted to pant lightly from the previous round.

You’re fucked out in the cutest way, and it’s enough to get him hard again.

“…About?” Your words trail off with a hint of uncertainty under them.

“‘M not sorry.” He whispers, groaning when his overstimulated cock slaps against your folds. “Not sorry at all anymore. Gotta shoot it inside next, or this’ll keep bothering me.”

SAKURA HARUKA. fellatio, teasing, his dick is sensitive <3

“H-huh..?”

Your eyes flicker to the way the muscles of his abs flex when he abruptly sits up, deep blush across his cheeks as he watches you bob your head up and down his length in complete and utter disbelief.

“Sorryy,” your voice is a soft and teasing whisper, and you give him that sugary-sweet smile that always kills him in an instant. “Wrong name.”

An awfully casual mistake to make, he thinks.

Sakura is absolutely dumbfounded, forcing himself to try and glare despite the way you have him breathless and trembling underneath your touch, but you’re resuming your movements only a second later, your tongue dragging up his length as if you didn’t just call him someone else’s fucking name just now.

“H-hey.” He can barely choke out a word with how good your lips feel around his dick, and he’s trying to reach forward and pull you off of him, struggling to blurt out a “S-stop that!”

But you’re suddenly taking him deeper, letting him in your throat until your nose pokes at his skin, and he groans loudly at the feeling of your throat around him.

“Ah— shit..” his mouth falls open when you moan into him, vibrations of your voice forcing his hips to jerk up against you.

“You— you just…” he’s trying, trying so hard to get a word out, but you’re such a fucking tease. Your head bobs up and down a little faster, tongue flattening to glide perfectly around his thickness, and the way his quads start trembling doesn’t go unnoticed by you.

He’s getting close.

The lewd ‘pop!’ your mouth makes when you let him go only deepens the furious blush across his cheeks, and he wishes he didn’t make the mistake of looking down and catching a glimpse of you rubbing his pre-cum off your bottom lip with your thumb.

“I was just kidding.” You smile when you notice his attention is back on you, even if it’s only for a brief moment before he’s tearing his gaze away. “But the face you made was real funny.”

His expression switches to an angry scowl— as angry as he could possibly look after you’ve reduced him to nothing but a panting, flustered mess beneath you. He’s gasping loudly as soon as your hands start to run up and down his thighs, fingertips pressing into him to get a better feel for his muscles.

It’s enough to kill him as is, but as soon as you start peppering his dick with kisses, he feels his patience crumble to nothing.

“Enough,” his voice is just above a shaky growl, nails digging deeply into the armrests besides him, “Needa be inside you— f-fuck. Right now.”

[matamisin]

5 26 and 35 (: ?

ILY ANON AHHHH TYTY!!! 🩷🩷🩷

5. On an average day what can be found in your characters pockets??

I'd make a joke about pockets being small but then I realized she has the backpack and also she learns to sew (with her best friend Emily 🥰) and goes absolutely apeshit on making pockets LMFAO but 1000% she'll always have chapstick on her. She'll often also have her tools on her, but her sword is something she carries around all the time!! Harvey also makes her a little first-aid kit to carry around, filled with gauze, bandages, and different kinds of OTC meds :) oh!! And once my story w/ the Wizard progresses more, she'll have some more magic-y stuff with her :)

26. How does your character behave around children?

Ahhh she's awkward lol. But if she gets to know the kid and the kids gets to see her aside from her awkwardness, children usually like her!! Vincent was a different case, that boy is just super friendly lol, but Jas' own hesitancy to talk to her when she was a stranger and Leilani's awkwardness stalled their relationship for a little bit 😅 only started growing closer when Leilani brought some pink cupcakes to the Luau and Jas got really excited about them all day

35. How does your characters behave around people they like?

Ohhh this is surprisingly hard! For sure she'd be a lot more confident in speaking out and joking around, and WAY more comfortable to just say/do whatever (AKA she doesn't have her filter anymore LMFAO). She'd get a little more touchy with people (simple gestures, like leaning her head on someone's shoulder, swiping a strand of hair off someone's face and tucking it behind their ear/back into their styled hair, etc. Bachelor(ettes) LOVE it but they get flustered, but she's very oblivious to their reactions lol

[mrsfancyferrari]

Timeless Desire

Summary: You had always been Mercedes fan since you were young and it didn't change when you became Max's best friend. Based on British Grand Prix.

Song: Me and Your Mama - Childish Gambino

Author’s note: I can't write short stories to save my life. I hope you enjoy this long journey which may take a full day to read. Please like, reblog and share this! <33

Word count: 12.6k

╚═ * . · : · . ✧ ✦ ✧ . · : · . * ═╝

You had always been a Mercedes fan since you were young, and it hadn't changed when you became Max Verstappen's best friend. The British Grand Prix had always been a special occasion for you, being a Brit yourself.

This time, however, you decided to wear your signed Mercedes shirt to the paddock, attracting a lot of attention.

As you walked into the paddock, you could feel the eyes of the public on you, a mix of curiosity and admiration. The atmosphere was electric, with fans and team members bustling around, preparing for the big race.

You caught a few whispers and nods of recognition, some even pointing at your shirt with approving smiles. It felt surreal to be in the midst of such excitement, wearing the symbol of your childhood dreams.

Max spotted you from across the paddock and made his way over, a grin spreading across his face as he saw the shirt. "Are you ready for me to win again?" he said with a wink, clapping you on the back.

"Not in a million years Maxie," You replied, nudging your shoulders to his.

Being here, surrounded by the roar of the engines and the energy of the fans, you couldn't help but feel a deep sense of belonging.

You followed Max to the Red Bull garage, your Mercedes shirt still drawing a few curious stares from the Red Bull staff. Most of them were used to seeing you around, though, and had long accepted your unwavering loyalty to Mercedes.

The mechanics were busy fine-tuning Max's car, their focus undeterred by your presence. As you stood there, you could feel the palpable tension and anticipation in the air, a reminder of how high the stakes were for everyone involved.

Max chatted with his engineers, occasionally glancing back at you with a playful smirk. You knew he thrived on the friendly rivalry between the two of you. Despite the different team colors, the camaraderie and mutual respect you shared with Max and the Red Bull crew were undeniable.

It was moments like these that made you appreciate the sport even more, knowing that beneath the fierce competition, there was a deep bond that transcended team allegiances.

As Max was engrossed in a conversation with his team, you decided to take advantage of the moment and slip away for a while.

You couldn't miss out on the chance to connect with other like-minded individuals. The other wives of girlfriends of the drivers welcomed you into their circle.

"So what's the story behind the Mercedes shirt?" Rebecca asked curiously.

"Oh I'm just a big fan of Mercedes, especially Lewis Hamilton," you explained with a smile.

"While dating Max Verstappen? That must be hard to do," Lily Muni commented.

You blushed, taken aback by her comment. "Oh, no, Max and I are just friends," you quickly clarified, feeling a bit flustered.

Rebecca and Lily exchanged glances, clearly still intrigued, but they let the subject drop as the conversation shifted to other topics.

In your thoughts, you couldn't help but replay Lily's comment. The idea of dating Max had never crossed your mind in a serious way; your bond was built on years of shared experiences and a mutual love for racing.

Yet, the notion lingered, making you question if perhaps there was more beneath the surface of your friendship.

You had such strong feelings for Max, but you were terrified of rejection.

He's the 3-time world champion, a true legend of the sport. How could someone like you ever have a chance with someone as incredible as him? He's so talented, so successful, and you were just an ordinary person. The thought of opening your heart to him only to be turned away is enough to fill you with dread.

Part of you wishes you could just ignore these feelings, but they're impossible to deny. Every time you see him race, your heart skips a beat.

He's so captivating, so mesmerizing. You know deep down that you two could be amazing together, but the risk of rejection is too much to bear. You’d have to be content admiring him from afar, as much as that pains you. He's simply out of your league.

You had to rush back to the Red Bull garage to give Max at least some of your good luck while the rest was left for the Mercedes drivers.

You gave him a quick hug and told him, "Go easy on them will you?"

Max smirked and said, "Never in a million years."

You watched as Max got into his race car and drove off to the starting line. The atmosphere was electric, with the roar of the engines and the cheers of the crowd filling the air.

You then made your way over to the area where the celebrities were gathered, eager to catch a glimpse of the famous faces. As you mingled with the crowd, you couldn't help but feel a sense of excitement.

Whenever George, Lando or Hamilton were out on the track, you joined the throngs of fans in cheering them on, your voice adding to the cacophony of support that echoed through the circuit.

Jenson Button approached me, eager to know whom I was supporting at the British Grand Prix. "Excuse me, Y/N L/N. Can I have a moment of your time for a small interview?" he asked politely.

“Sure, I don’t mind!” You yelled over to the cars that had passed by where you were with speed for overtaking each other.

"I noticed you seem quite invested in the race today. Who are you rooting for?" He asked.

You turned to face the legendary Formula One driver, a smile spreading across your face. "Well, Jenson, I've always been a fan of Lewis Hamilton. The way he navigates those tight corners and pushes the limits of his car is truly inspiring. But I have to say, I'm also keeping a close eye on George Russell. He's been putting in some remarkable performances lately, and I wouldn't be surprised to see him on the podium today."

Jenson nodded thoughtfully, his eyes gleaming with interest. "Ah, yes, George did get podium in Austria. It's been great to see him come into his own this season. And of course, Lewis is always a force to be reckoned with on his home turf."

He paused, then leaned in conspiratorially. "Tell me, who do you think has the best chance of taking the chequered flag on Sunday?"

You turned around, revealing the word "Lewis Hamilton" written on your shirt in bold, striking letters. "I guess my shirt says it all," you laughed.

"Lewis has an incredible track record here at Silverstone, and I believe his experience and skill will give him the edge this weekend. But honestly, in racing, anything can happen, and that's what makes it so thrilling."

Jenson grinned, clearly amused by your enthusiasm. "Well, it looks like you're all set for a fantastic race day. Enjoy the rest of the Grand Prix, and may the best driver win!"

With that, he gave you a friendly nod and moved on to the next eager fan. You turned back to the track, heart pounding with anticipation, ready to cheer on your favorites as they battled it out on one of the most iconic circuits in the world.

Not long after Jenson moved on, you spotted Max Verstappen exiting his car after the first practice session. He looked focused but relaxed, a small smile playing on his lips as he made his way toward the garage.

Seizing the opportunity, you approached him. "Max, you were incredible out there! How are you feeling about the car's performance today?" you asked.

Max turned to you, his eyes bright with determination. "Thanks! The car felt really good, especially through the high-speed corners. We've made a few tweaks since the last race, and it seems to be paying off," he said with a nod.

"But there's still a lot of work to do, and we need to make sure everything's perfect for qualifying tomorrow." His gaze shifted back to the track, the competitive fire clearly evident.

"That's great to hear," you replied, excitement evident in your voice. "I'm sure you and the team will nail it. Best of luck for the qualifying session—I'll be rooting for you!"

Max chuckled, his grin widening. "I know you're actually rooting for Lewis, so don't try and convince me," he said, playfully pointing at your shirt before walking back to his team.

You chuckled, caught off guard by his playful comment, but you couldn't help but admire his confidence. As he disappeared into the garage, you turned your attention back to the track, eager for the next glimpse of racing action.

Realizing this was the perfect moment to engage with your followers, you quickly pulled out your phone and started a video.

"Hey everyone, I'm here at Silverstone, and it's absolutely electric! I just had an amazing chat with Max Verstappen, who seems really confident about the car's performance today."

With the camera still rolling, you began to walk around the paddock, capturing the vibrant atmosphere. "Look at this crowd! The energy here is just unbelievable. Stay tuned, because I'll be sharing more exclusive content, interviews, and updates throughout the Grand Prix. Make sure to follow and hit that notification bell so you don't miss a thing!"

You ended the video with a smile, feeling thrilled to share this unforgettable experience with your followers.

The paddock buzzed with activity, mechanics tirelessly working on cars while the air was filled with the sound of revving engines and excited chatter. Colorful team banners and flags fluttered in the breeze, adding to the vibrant spectacle.

The aroma of fuel and tire rubber mingled with the scent of freshly brewed coffee from nearby stalls, creating an intoxicating blend that awakens all your senses.

You decided to wander around the paddock until the second practice session started, eager to soak in every bit of the atmosphere. As you strolled past the various team garages, you couldn't help but marvel at the precision and dedication of the crew members.

Each mechanic moved with purpose, their focus unwavering as they fine-tuned the cars for optimal performance. The occasional cheer erupted from fans who managed to catch a glimpse of their favorite drivers, adding to the palpable excitement in the air.

Pausing at a merchandise stall, you took a moment to browse through the array of team hats, shirts, and memorabilia. The vendor’s enthusiastic pitch and the sight of fans proudly donning their favorite team's colors made you smile.

With a new Mercedes cap in hand, you continued your exploration, eventually finding a spot near the track with a clear view of the action.

Settling in, you glanced at your watch, counting down the minutes until the second practice session began, anticipation building with every passing second. . . . .

The second practice session had come to an exhilarating end, and you couldn't help but feel a surge of pride as the leaderboard displayed Lando Norris’s name at the top. Seeing a Brit in first place put a broad smile on your face, a sentiment echoed by the cheers of the crowd around you.

The young driver's impressive performance had not only captured the hearts of the local fans but also ignited a sense of optimism for the upcoming race.

As the teams began to pack up their equipment and the drivers headed back to their motorhomes, you reflected on the day's events. The energy, the passion, and the sheer love for the sport were palpable, making you even more excited for what lay ahead.

You knew Max Verstappen wasn’t thrilled with his results today; the frustration was evident in his body language as he walked past the garage. Deciding it was best to give him some space, you chose to head back to your apartment on your own.

The cool evening breeze accompanied you as you made your way through the bustling streets, the excitement of the new day still lingering in the air.

Back at the apartment, you kicked off your shoes and sank into the couch, the day’s events replaying in your mind. The roar of the engines, the fervor of the crowd, and the sheer thrill of the race had left an indelible mark on you.

Your mind drifted back to the moment you saw Max Verstappen walk past the garage. His usually composed demeanor was replaced with visible frustration; sweat clung to his brow and his hair was tousled, a stark contrast to his usual neat appearance.

You couldn't help but feel a pang of empathy for him. Racing was as much a mental game as it was a physical one, and today had clearly taken its toll on him.

As you sank deeper into the couch, you recalled the intensity in Max's eyes, the way he seemed to carry the weight of the team's expectations on his shoulders. It wasn't just about winning; it was about pride, about proving himself in the face of fierce competition.

His messy hair and worn-out look were a testament to the effort he poured into every lap.

You found yourself silently rooting for him, hoping that tomorrow would bring him better results and the sense of accomplishment he so clearly desired.

Just as you were deep in thought about Max, your phone buzzed, pulling you back to the present. Glancing at the screen, you saw his name flash across it.

You hesitated for a moment, unsure of what to say, but quickly answered.

"Hey," you said softly, trying to gauge his mood.

"Hey," he replied, his voice tinged with exhaustion. "I just... I needed to talk to someone. It's been a rough day."

You could hear the weariness in his voice, the frustration still lingering. "Of course, Max," you responded, your tone gentle and supportive. "Today was tough, but you're an incredible driver. You've got what it takes to bounce back."

There was a brief pause before he spoke again, "Thanks. I just needed to hear that. Tomorrow’s a new day, right?"

You smiled, "Absolutely. Get some rest, and let's see you take on the track with that unstoppable spirit of yours."

"Thanks, I'll come pick you up in the morning at the same time as today, is that alright?" Max asked, his voice sounding a bit lighter now.

"That sounds perfect," you replied, relieved to hear a hint of optimism returning to his tone. "Get some rest, Max. Tomorrow's another chance to shine."

After ending the call, you set your phone down and took a deep breath, feeling a mix of concern and hope for Max.

You decided to make yourself a cup of tea, hoping the warmth would help settle your thoughts. As you sipped the soothing drink, you couldn't help but replay the conversation in your mind.

As you sipped the soothing drink, you couldn't help but replay the conversation in your mind. The warmth in Max's voice was something rare, a side of him that few got to witness.

It stirred something deep within you, a flutter of butterflies in your stomach at the thought. Despite his usual stoic demeanor, tonight he had reached out to you, revealing a vulnerability that made you feel closer to him than ever before.

You let the warmth of the tea seep into you, calming your nerves while your thoughts raced. The connection you felt with Max tonight was undeniable, and it left you wondering about the deeper layers of his character.

Tomorrow, when he picked you up, you hoped to see that same spark of warmth in his eyes, a sign that he was ready to face the challenges ahead with renewed vigor.

Until then, you allowed yourself to bask in the glow of this newfound closeness, feeling a sense of hope and anticipation for the days to come. . . .

The next day arrived faster than you had anticipated, and before you knew it, the alarm was blaring in your ear. Groggy and disoriented, you realized with a start that you had overslept.

Panic set in as you hurriedly got ready, grabbing another Lewis Hamilton shirt and a Mercedes hat for some much-needed shade. You barely had time to brush your hair before Max would be at your doorstep.

You quickly brushed your teeth, splashed some water on your face, and dashed out the door, your heart pounding not just from the hurry but from the anticipation of seeing him again.

Rushing down the stairs, you hoped that your tardiness wouldn't dampen Max’s newly found optimism. As you stepped outside, you saw his car approaching, and a wave of relief washed over you.

The moment you climbed into the car, Max greeted you with a smile that was both reassuring and genuine. "Ready for today?" he asked, and you couldn’t help but feel that, despite the rocky start, everything was going to be just fine.

"Absolutely," you replied with a grin, trying to mask the flutter of nerves still lingering from your rushed morning. "Let's make it a great day."

Max's smile widened, and you felt a surge of confidence as the car pulled away from the curb, setting the course for whatever lay ahead.

The both of you arrived at the paddock at the usual time, the familiar hum of activity already filling the air. Mechanics were bustling about, engineers deep in conversation, and the distinctive scent of fuel and rubber permeated the space.

You used your paddock pass to enter the gate, feeling a sense of belonging as you navigated through the organized chaos. Max walked beside you, his presence steady and comforting.

As you approached the garage, you couldn’t help but notice the way the team members greeted Max with a newfound respect. It was as if the previous night's vulnerability had transformed him in their eyes as well.

He exchanged quick words with the crew, his tone confident and determined. You caught his eye, and he flashed you a quick, reassuring smile.

Since there was still time before the third practice race, you and Max decided to walk around the paddock. The bustling atmosphere of the Formula One paddock was electric, with teams of engineers and mechanics scurrying about, fine-tuning their cars for the upcoming sessions.

As you and Max strolled through the maze of garages, you couldn't help but feel a sense of anticipation. The sights and sounds of the sport you both loved so dearly were all around you, and you knew that the real action was just moments away.

The two of you exchanged excited glances, each of you eager to see what the day had in store.

Then in the distance, you saw Lewis Hamilton getting interviewed by Jenson Button and other journalists. Hamilton's outfit exuded a sense of style and sophistication that perfectly complemented his status as a Formula One superstar.

Dressed in a tailored charcoal grey suit, Hamilton looked sharp and modern. The slim-fit jacket accentuated his athletic build, while the crisp white shirt and slim-cut trousers gave him a polished, contemporary look. Finishing off the ensemble were a pair of sleek black leather dress shoes, lending an air of elegance to his overall appearance.

Hamilton's fashion choices demonstrated his keen eye for detail and his ability to effortlessly blend high performance sportswear with high-end formal attire, solidifying his reputation as one of the most stylish personalities in the world of motorsports.

Jenson and Lewis paused their conversation as their eyes fell upon you and Max. Their faces lit up with genuine smiles, and Jenson waved enthusiastically, beckoning you over. The camera crew shifted slightly to accommodate the new dynamic, capturing the camaraderie between the drivers.

"Hey, you two!" Jenson called out. "Come join us for a bit!" The invitation was casual yet filled with warmth, a testament to the close-knit community within the paddock.

"Are you coming?" you whispered to Max and he shook his head, understanding completely.

It would be too early in the morning for him to be hammered with questions with the 7th World Champion.

You made your way over, exchanging nods and greetings with the crew along the way.

As you joined the small circle, Lewis extended his arms for a friendly hug. The warmth of his embrace was a welcome respite from the chill of the evening air, and you couldn't help but feel a sense of belonging in that moment.

His firm yet gentle grip conveyed a genuine affection that put you at ease, reminding you of the strong bond you shared.

The hug lasted just long enough to feel comforting, without becoming overbearing. As you pulled away, you caught a glimpse of the genuine smile that spread across Lewis' face, his eyes twinkling with genuine delight at your arrival.

"Good to see you again Y/N," he said, his voice carrying the same charm as his attire.

"Same to you Lewis," you replied with a grin on your face after meeting your idol.

You two have met before and every time Max would be with you but he would let you speak for the both of you.

"You know, we've seen some viral rumors going around about the two of you," Jenson stated, his tone playful yet curious. "Your faces look very similar," he added, prompting nods of agreement from the surrounding interviewers.

You chuckled, glancing over at Lewis, who seemed equally amused. "Yeah, I've heard that one before," Lewis said with a grin. "People always think we're related or something."

"I would be lucky to have you as my dad," you replied, your tone light-hearted but sincere. The surrounding crew chuckled, and Lewis laughed warmly, patting you on the back.

"Well, if I had a kid as cool as you, I'd be the lucky one," he responded, his eyes sparkling with genuine affection.

"You know, I was in high school when you won your first world championship," you said, reminiscing about the early days of his career. Lewis raised an eyebrow, clearly surprised.

Lewis chuckled, shaking his head in amusement. "Oh, come on now, Y/N. That makes me feel ancient," he replied, still grinning.

Jenson joined in, adding, "Well, there's no denying the resemblance. Maybe you two should do a DNA test just for fun." The suggestion elicited more laughter, and you shrugged, playing along.

"Who knows, maybe we’ll find out we’re long-lost family," you joked, feeling the camaraderie and light-heartedness of the moment.

Jenson leaned in, clearly enjoying the banter. "So, Y/N, any plans to follow in our footsteps and join the racing world?" he asked, raising an eyebrow.

You shrugged with a smile, "Who knows? Maybe one day. For now, I'm just enjoying the ride and learning from the best."

Lewis smiled warmly before patting your shoulder. "That's the spirit, Y/N. Keep learning and who knows where you'll end up," he encouraged.

The crew continued to chat and laugh, the atmosphere buzzing with energy and camaraderie.

Jenson looked back at Max, who was still waiting patiently. "Let's not keep Max Verstappen waiting any longer and let you go," he said with a grin. "But before you leave, who are you rooting for to win on Sunday?"

You grinned and turned to the camera, proudly showing off your shirt which had Lewis Hamilton's name and number emblazoned on it.

"Of course, for my favorite driver, Lewis Hamilton," you declared with enthusiasm. The crew erupted in cheers and applause, clearly appreciating your loyalty.

Lewis laughed heartily, shaking his head. "Well, it's good to know I've got such a dedicated fan in you, Y/N," he said, his eyes twinkling with gratitude. "Just make sure you keep cheering loudly; I might need that extra bit of support on Sunday."

You nodded eagerly, feeling the warmth of the moment as Jenson wrapped up the interview.

When he unexpectedly reached out and signed your Mercedes cap and shirt, you were utterly starstruck and overcome with a profound sense of awe.

The surreal experience of having the coveted autograph of your revered idol permanently emblazoned upon your personal item is a feeling that will undoubtedly be etched into your memory, to be cherished and fondly recalled for years to come.

This tangible connection to your admired public figure has elevated the cap and the shirt from a mere article of clothing into a prized possession, imbued with deep personal significance that will serve as a lasting reminder of this incredible, once-in-a-lifetime moment.

"Thank you guys for making me meet my dad," you joked as you handed your microphone to a staff member. The crew burst into laughter, and even Lewis couldn't help but chuckle at your playful remark.

"Good luck, Dad!" you said as you walked away from the group, grinning from ear to ear. The crew's laughter continued to echo behind you, and Lewis gave a final wave, still smiling at your endearing humor.

"Thanks, kid," Lewis said back, still smiling warmly. You felt a rush of pride as you walked away, knowing that this incredible moment would stay with you forever. The excitement of the day left you feeling like you were walking on air, already anticipating the thrilling race ahead.

Max then joined you halfway as you two walked together behind the group. "That was quite the interaction," he remarked, glancing at the freshly signed cap in your hands. "I think you just made everyone in the crew a little jealous."

You chuckled, still riding the high of the unforgettable experience. "It feels like a dream. I mean, meeting Lewis Hamilton and getting his autograph? It's surreal," you replied, your voice bubbling with excitement.

Max raised an eyebrow playfully, “Would you be this excited if I gave you a signed Red Bull hat?”

You laughed, glancing at him, “Of course, Max! But you know, nothing beats meeting your hero.”

Max smirked, shaking his head with a mock sigh, “Guess I’ll have to step up my game then.”

"Well, Max, you'll have to start by winning a few more championships," you teased, nudging him lightly. He laughed, playfully rolling his eyes.

"But seriously, Max, you're my second hero too," you admitted with a grin, making him laugh and shake his head.

As you both entered the Red Bull garage, the familiar hum of activity and the scent of burning rubber welcomed you, amplifying your anticipation for the race ahead.

"These are the only times I've actually seen Max laugh this week," Jenson commented, overhearing the lighthearted exchange.

Lewis smiled warmly at the remark, clearly pleased to see such camaraderie. "Well, it looks like she's got the magic touch on Max," Lewis said, giving you a nod of approval.

Jenson chuckled, nodding in agreement. "It's true, she's got a way of bringing out the best in all of us," he remarked, his eyes twinkling with amusement. "Maybe we should keep her around for good luck," he added, glancing at Lewis with a grin. . . .

The results from the third practice session of the British Grand Prix left you utterly astonished. The top three positions were dominated by British drivers: Lewis Hamilton, Lando Norris, and George Russell.

The roar of the crowd was deafening as the names flashed up on the leaderboard, and you could feel the electricity in the air. The excitement was palpable, and the entire paddock buzzed with a mix of admiration and determination.

As you and Alexandra absorbed the results, you couldn't help but feel a surge of national pride mixed with the competitive spirit that coursed through the paddock.

"Three Brits at the top—who would've thought?" Alex mused, glancing at the screen.

"It's going to be one heck of a race," you replied, a grin spreading across your face.

The anticipation for Sunday's race grew stronger, knowing that this unexpected turn of events had set the stage for an epic showdown on the Silverstone circuit.

As the final practice session concluded, you made your way back to the garage, where Max was already debriefing with his engineers. His expression was a mix of frustration and determination, clearly unsatisfied with his fourth-place finish.

You could sense the tension in the air as he ran a hand through his hair, listening intently to the feedback. "Fourth place again," he muttered under his breath, his jaw clenched.

You approached him carefully, offering a supportive smile. "Hey, Max, don't be too hard on yourself. The race is still ahead, and anything can happen," you reassured him, placing a hand on his shoulder.

He looked up, his eyes softening slightly. "I know, but it's just frustrating," he admitted, exhaling deeply.

"We'll figure it out," you replied confidently. "You've got the skills and the team behind you—we'll get there."

Max’s shoulders relaxed slightly at your words, the tension in his posture easing. Without warning, he pulled you into a big, tight hug, a gesture of gratitude and camaraderie.

"Thanks," he whispered into your shoulder, his voice barely audible over the buzz of the garage. "I needed that."

You patted his back reassuringly, feeling the weight of his determination and the pressure he was under.

As he released you, he took a step back, his expression a bit lighter. "Alright, let me get to work before I get yelled at by the team," he joked, a renewed spark in his eyes.

You nodded, feeling a surge of optimism before letting him go. As Max turned back to his engineers, you couldn't help but admire his resilience and dedication. The garage was a hive of activity, the mechanics and engineers working tirelessly to fine-tune every detail for the upcoming race.

You knew that this was just the beginning, and that every effort counted towards the ultimate goal. The camaraderie and mutual support within the team were palpable, and it gave you confidence that they could overcome any obstacles.

Walking over to the pit wall, you glanced at the data screens, absorbing the information from the final practice session. The numbers told a story of fierce competition and the relentless pursuit of perfection.

As you watched the team dive into their preparations, you felt a sense of unity and purpose that transcended individual ambitions. The Silverstone circuit awaited, and with the collective strength and determination of the team, you believed they were ready to face whatever challenges came their way.

With the support of his team and the undeniable talent that Max possessed, you knew that the upcoming race would be anything but predictable.

Knowing that Max would likely pull an all-nighter to ensure everything was perfect, you decided to embrace a rare moment of relaxation and joined the girls for a much-needed night out.

The energy of the city was a stark contrast to the focused intensity of the garage, and you relished the chance to unwind and recharge. Laughter and conversation flowed freely as you and the girls caught up over dinner, sharing stories and enjoying each other's company.

"Lily, you should have seen Max today," you said, taking a sip of your drink. "He was so stressed but still managed to joke around. It's like he's made of steel."

Alexandra laughed, "You and Max, honestly, it's like watching a married couple. The way you two support each other is incredible."

Rebecca chimed in, "You both have that unspoken understanding. It's rare to see such a strong bond. Do you ever think about what it would be like if you two were actually together?"

You smiled, shaking your head. "Max and I are just really good friends. We've been through so much together, and I wouldn't trade that for anything."

As the evening progressed, Lily leaned in with a mischievous glint in her eyes. "So, how are things going with Max? Seriously, the way you two finish each other's sentences is uncanny," she teased, nudging Alexandra.

Alexandra and Rebecca chuckled in agreement. "Yeah, it's like you guys have this secret language," Rebecca added, taking a sip of her wine.

You laughed, feeling a warm blush creep up your cheeks. "I think that just happens when you're good friends with someone," you protested lightly. "But honestly, I think it's just because we've been through so much together with the team. It's hard not to get close when you're in the thick of it all."

The girls exchanged knowing glances, their smiles widening.

As the night progressed, you felt the stress and tension of the past weeks melt away. Dancing under the colorful lights of the club, you allowed yourself to be fully present in the moment, soaking in the joy and camaraderie of your friends.

Though your mind occasionally drifted back to the team and the upcoming race, you knew that moments like these were essential for maintaining balance and perspective.

The music in the club was a pulsating mix of deep bass and energetic beats, creating an infectious rhythm that made it impossible to stay still.

The DJ seamlessly blended popular hits with classic dance anthems, keeping the energy high and the dance floor packed. Every now and then, a familiar tune would spark cheers from the crowd, adding to the electric atmosphere of the night.

You tried to forget about tomorrow by dancing your heart out, losing yourself in the music and the laughter of your friends.

Each beat seemed to sync with your heartbeat, pushing away the lingering worries and stress about the upcoming race. The colored lights flashed around you, casting a vibrant glow on the faces of those you loved most.

Alexandra pulled you into a carefree spin, her laughter ringing out like a melody of its own, while Rebecca's enthusiastic dance moves encouraged everyone around her to join in the fun.

As the night wore on, you felt a sense of liberation, a temporary escape from the pressures that awaited you in the morning. The music, the lights, and the camaraderie wrapped around you like a comforting embrace.

You danced until your feet ached and your lungs burned from breathless laughter. In those precious hours, you allowed yourself to be free, knowing that the memories you were creating would fortify you for the challenges ahead. . . .

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As you left the bathroom, a guy approached you with a confident smirk. "Hey there, having a good time?" he asked, stepping into your path.

You quickly pulled out your phone, pretending to check messages, but he wasn't deterred. "Come on, don't be like that," he persisted, reaching out and snatching the phone from your hands.

"Hey, give that back!" you exclaimed, your voice rising above the music. His grin widened as he held your phone just out of reach.

"Relax, I just wanted to talk," he said, but you could see the mischief in his eyes.

"Look, I'm just here to enjoy the night with my friends," you said firmly, trying to keep your cool. "Can you please give me my phone back?"

He chuckled and shook his head, still holding the phone out of reach. "Only if you promise to dance with me for one song," he countered, his eyes sparkling with playful determination.

"Look, I'm not interested," you replied firmly, trying to keep your cool despite the growing frustration. "Just give me my phone back."

"Why so serious?" he teased, leaning in closer. "I promise, I'm not a bad guy."

Suddenly, a fist landed against the man's face, and he staggered backward, releasing your phone. You looked over to see Max standing in front of you, his eyes blazing with anger.

"Are you alright?" he asked, concern lacing his voice. Max was wearing a black leather jacket over a plain white t-shirt, his jeans slightly worn and his boots scuffed from countless adventures.

"Yeah, I'm fine now," you replied, clutching your phone tightly. The guy groaned, rubbing his jaw, but quickly decided to make himself scarce. "Thanks, Max. I don't know what I would have done if you hadn't shown up."

Max shrugged, a small smile playing on his lips. "Don't mention it. No one messes with you." He glanced around, the lively atmosphere of the party resuming as if nothing had happened.

"Come on, let's get back to the others. I think Alexandra is about to challenge everyone to a dance-off."

Max had always been the one to look out for you, ever since you first met. His protective nature wasn't just about physical safety; it was about ensuring you felt secure and valued in every situation. Moments like these reminded you why you valued his friendship so deeply.

You smiled, feeling a wave of gratitude wash over you, before following Max over to where the girls were gathered. Alexandra was already hyping everyone up, her infectious energy drawing a crowd. The music thumped louder as she announced the start of the dance-off, and you couldn't help but get caught up in the excitement.

"Hey, you're just in time!" Alexandra called out, her voice filled with excitement. "We're about to start the dance-off, and I need my best dancer by my side." You laughed, feeling the tension from earlier melt away.

Max stayed close by your side, his reassuring presence a constant comfort. As the dance-off began, you found yourself laughing and cheering on your friends, the earlier tension quickly fading away.

You start to move your body to the rhythm of the music, swaying your hips and tapping your feet. The beat pulses through you, and you let it guide your movements, flowing from one step to the next with a natural fluidity.

As the tempo picks up, you pick up the pace, your limbs moving with increasing energy and precision. You twirl and spin, your arms outstretched, feeling the music coursing through every inch of your being.

The world around you fades away as you become lost in the dance, your only focus being the rhythm that compels you to keep moving.

The crowd's cheers grew louder, a wave of encouragement that fueled your every move. You could hear your friends shouting your name, their voices blending with the music and creating an intoxicating mix of sound and energy.

Every clap, every cheer, every shout of encouragement pushed you to dance harder, to lose yourself even more in the rhythm. It was a feeling of pure exhilaration, a moment where nothing else mattered but the beat and the joy of movement.

As you executed a particularly challenging spin, the crowd erupted in applause. You caught a glimpse of Max, his eyes filled with pride and approval, and it spurred you on even further.

Your feet barely touched the ground as you performed intricate steps, each one met with more cheers and applause.

Alexandra joined in, her movements mirroring yours in a dazzling display of synchronicity. Together, you owned the dance floor, the world outside the party forgotten as you reveled in the collective energy and sheer delight of the dance-off.

"Alright, I think it's time for us to go," Max muttered into your ear, sending a shiver down your spine. You nodded, your body still buzzing from the adrenaline of the dance-off.

You said goodbye to the girls, their faces glowing with the same exhilaration that still coursed through your veins. They gave you knowing smiles, the kind that spoke of shared secrets and unforgettable moments.

"You were amazing out there," one of them said, pulling you into a quick hug. The others nodded in agreement, their eyes twinkling with pride and admiration.

It was a night that would be etched into your memories, a night where you felt truly alive and connected.

As you made your way through the crowd, you could feel the lingering energy of the night, the music and laughter still echoing in your ears.

"Did you have fun?" Max asked, his hand gently squeezing yours.

"Absolutely," you replied with a smile. "I needed this. Thanks for being here with me."

"Always," he said, his eyes twinkling with warmth. "Now let's get you home."

As you and Max made your way out of the venue, the cool night air hit your skin, a refreshing contrast to the heat and energy inside.

He led you to where his car was parked, a few blocks away from the lively venue. The city's lights shimmered around you, creating a magical ambiance that seemed to extend the evening's enchantment.

Max opened the passenger door for you, his gentlemanly gesture making you smile. As you settled into the seat, you took a deep breath, the cool night air filling your lungs and calming your racing heart.

Max slid into the driver's seat and started the engine, the soft hum of the car a soothing backdrop to your thoughts. The streets were quieter now, the hustle and bustle of the night giving way to a peaceful stillness.

As he drove, you glanced over at him, his profile illuminated by the passing streetlights.

A sense of gratitude washed over you, not just for the incredible night but for the unwavering presence of someone who understood you so deeply.

The road stretched ahead, and for the first time in a long while, you felt a sense of contentment and peace.

The cityscape gradually transitioned from the vibrant glow of downtown to the quieter, tree-lined neighborhoods.

Streetlights cast long shadows across the pavement, and the occasional passerby strolled under the canopy of autumn leaves. The serene streets, dotted with quaint shops and cafes, seemed to whisper stories of their own, adding to the magic of the night.

You didn’t hear when the car stopped or when Max got out of his seat to come to your side, but you felt a touch on your shoulder, gentle and reassuring.

"Hey," he said softly, "we're here." His voice pulled you out of your reverie, and you looked up to see him holding your door open, a kind smile on his face.

"Sorry, I must have zoned out," you said, stepping out of the car and into the crisp night air. Max chuckled, "No worries. It looks like tonight wore you out in the best way possible."

You nodded, feeling the warmth of his presence beside you. "It did. Thanks again, Max, for everything." He squeezed your hand gently, "Anytime. Let's get you inside and cozy."

As you walked towards your front door, the porch light casting a welcoming glow, you realized just how much nights like these meant to you.

You unlocked the door and Max and you walked inside. The house was quiet and peaceful, a welcome change from the hustle and bustle of the day. As you closed the door behind the both of you, you felt the tension in your shoulders start to melt away.

Max immediately made himself at home, bounding over to his favorite spot on the couch and curling up with a contented sigh. You couldn't help but smile as you watched him settle in, grateful for the simple joy of being back in your comfortable space.

You followed him and sat right beside him, cuddling him. Max laughs, "How much did you have to drink?"

"Not much, just tired now," you mumbled.

Your body felt heavy, and you couldn't resist the urge to snuggle up against Max. The warmth of his presence was comforting, and you felt a sense of safety and contentment in his company.

"Hey, you know, my friends have been asking me a lot lately about...well, about us. They keep wondering if we're, you know, actually just friends or if there's something more going on," you said, feeling a slight blush creep onto your cheeks.

He looked at you, a hint of surprise in his eyes. "Your friends, huh? What do you tell them?" he asked, his voice soft and curious.

You averted your gaze, suddenly finding the ground very interesting. "I...I tell them that we're just friends. But, I don't know, sometimes I wonder if they're right. I mean, are we really just friends?" you admitted, your heart racing.

He was silent for a moment, and you could feel the tension building between you two. "Well, I...I guess that's up to us to decide, isn't it?" he said, his voice barely above a whisper.

You couldn't help but glance at him, your gaze involuntarily drawn to his captivating presence. His striking appearance and commanding aura made it nearly impossible to look away, even for a moment.

Your eyes met briefly, locking in a charged, fleeting connection that sent a flutter of shyness rippling through your chest.

Despite your best efforts to avert your eyes, you found yourself repeatedly drawn back to him, mesmerized by his alluring and magnetic persona.

"I notice you looking," he replied, his voice soft and teasing.

"I... I didn't mean to stare, I just..." Your words trailed off as you struggled to find the right thing to say.

He smiled reassuringly. "It's alright, I don't mind." There was a warmth in his tone that put you at ease. "I'm glad you can look at me."

You felt your cheeks grow warm, and you ducked your head, suddenly finding the floor very interesting. "I'm sorry, I... I'm not usually this shy," you stammered.

"No need to apologize," he said gently. "I find your shyness quite endearing. Your drunk side is definitely cuter,”

You felt your cheeks flush even deeper at his compliment, a mix of embarrassment and delight swirling within you. You managed a small, shy smile, peeking up at him through your lashes.

"Thanks, Max," you murmured, your heart fluttering at his words.

As you stood there, the silence between you two thickening, you heard Max mutter something under his breath. Though you couldn't catch everything, you distinctly heard the words, "you'll be the death of me."

You chose not to comment on it, unsure if you had heard correctly or if your mind was playing tricks on you. The air seemed to crackle with unspoken emotions, making your pulse quicken.

A moment later, Max took a deep breath and stepped closer, his eyes never leaving yours. "You have no idea what you do to me," he said, his voice low and filled with intensity. The proximity of his presence made your heart race even faster, each beat echoing in your ears.

You could feel the weight of his words settling over you, making it clear that you were no longer just friends standing on the edge of something much deeper.

Deciding to be brave for once, you took a deep breath and met his gaze head-on. "Max, I... I think there's something more here than just friendship. Maybe we should talk about it, figure out what this really is," you said, your voice trembling slightly but steady enough to convey your sincerity.

He reached out, gently taking your hand in his, and the simple gesture sent a wave of warmth through you. "I've been wanting to talk about it too," he admitted, his eyes never leaving yours. "But you're too drunk to talk about it."

Max then stood up and said, "And it's past both our bedtime," he gave his hand out, "Do you need help?" You looked at his extended hand, hesitating for just a moment before placing your hand in his.

The warmth of his touch was comforting, and you nodded, feeling a sense of relief wash over you. "Yeah, I think I do," you replied softly, a small smile playing on your lips.

As he helped you to your feet, you couldn't help but feel a mixture of anticipation and nervousness about what the future held for the two of you. "We'll talk about this tomorrow, when we're both clear-headed," he promised, his eyes filled with a sincerity that made your heart flutter.

You nodded in agreement, feeling grateful for the moment of clarity.

"Goodnight, Max," you whispered.

"Goodnight," he replied, his voice gentle as he squeezed your hand one last time before letting go.

As you made your way to your room, your mind buzzed with a whirlwind of emotions. You felt a mix of excitement and anxiety, the weight of unspoken feelings finally acknowledged.

Lying in bed, you couldn't help but replay the night's events, wondering what tomorrow would bring for you and Max. . . . .

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The next morning, you woke up with a slight throbbing in your head, the kind that comes from having one too many drinks the night before. Groaning, you rubbed your temples and tried to piece together the fragments of last night.

Bits and pieces floated back to you—laughter, the warmth of Max's hand, and something about a conversation that felt important. But the details were fuzzy, like trying to remember a dream that was slipping away with each passing second.

As you stumbled into the kitchen for a glass of water, you found yourself wondering about the look in Max's eyes and the words he had said. The clarity from last night was now a blur, leaving you with a nagging sense that something significant had occurred.

You couldn't shake the feeling that today might bring some answers, and perhaps a chance to finally address the feelings that had been simmering just below the surface.

You decided to dress casually, slipping into another Mercedes shirt, this one adorned with a signature from Lewis Hamilton that you'd gotten a long time ago. The familiar fabric brought back memories of excitement and admiration, moments when you felt invincible.

Topping off your outfit with the same Mercedes hat from yesterday, you hoped the attire would give you a boost of confidence for whatever the day had in store.

As you made your way to the living room, you couldn't help but think about Max and the conversation from the night before. The anticipation of seeing him again made your heart race, and you hoped that today would bring some much-needed clarity.

With each step, you felt a mixture of hope and apprehension, but one thing was certain—you were ready to face whatever came next, no matter how daunting it seemed.

A gentle knock on the door pulled you from your thoughts, and your heart skipped a beat. Taking a deep breath, you walked over and opened it to find Max standing there, his familiar smile instantly putting you at ease.

"Hey," he greeted softly, his eyes searching yours as if trying to read your mind. The sight of him brought a rush of both relief and nervous energy, and you couldn't help but smile back.

"Hey, Max," you replied, stepping aside to let him in. As he entered, you both knew that the conversation from last night needed to be revisited, the unspoken feelings demanding attention.

Max glanced around your living room before turning to face you, his expression serious yet gentle. "You're a bit early today," you began, and he nodded.

"I just wanted to make sure you were good after yesterday," Max stated, concern evident in his voice. He took a cautious step closer, his eyes never leaving yours. "Do you remember anything that happened?"

You shook your head, feeling a mix of frustration and embarrassment. "No, it's all a bit of a blur. I remember us talking, but the details are fuzzy. What did I say, Max?"

The uncertainty gnawed at you, and you could see Max weighing his words carefully.

He took a deep breath before replying, "We talked about a lot of things—your feelings, my feelings, and everything we've been holding back. I think it's important we address it now, while it's still fresh."

You glanced at the clock on the wall and your eyes widened in realization. "Max, if we start this conversation now, we're going to be late for work," you said, biting your lip. The weight of the moment was palpable, but the practical concern loomed large.

Max followed your gaze to the clock and sighed, running a hand through his hair.

"I know," he admitted reluctantly, "but we can't keep pushing this off. How about we talk after the race? We can't let this hang over us any longer."

You nodded, feeling a sense of relief that there was a plan in place. "Okay, after the race it is," you agreed, grabbing your keys and heading for the door.

Max smiled appreciatively, and together, you walked out, knowing that the conversation was merely postponed, not avoided.

You walked to his car, the tension between you both a silent passenger. The drive felt quick, a blur of city streets and morning light, the hum of the engine the only sound breaking the silence.

Max's hand occasionally brushed yours on the gear shift, each touch a reminder of the conversation that awaited. As the racetrack came into view, a sense of urgency replaced the earlier calm, the reality of the day ahead crashing down.

Before you could fully prepare yourself, you were swarmed by the paparazzi, their cameras flashing and questions flying. Max tightened his grip on your hand, guiding you through the chaos with a protective determination.

"Just stay close," he whispered, his voice a steady anchor in the storm. You nodded, squeezing his hand back, feeling a mix of gratitude and apprehension.

You two safely made it to the Red Bull garage, Max's annoyance palpable as he helped you regain your balance after tripping over a persistent paparazzo. "Are you okay?" he asked, his voice tinged with frustration but softened by concern.

You nodded, brushing off the embarrassment as best you could, and took a deep breath to steady yourself. The bustling activity of the garage—mechanics fine-tuning cars, engineers analyzing data—provided a temporary distraction from the looming conversation.

Max's jaw tightened as he tried to shake off the earlier chaos. "Let's focus on the race for now," you said, your eyes scanning the garage for any more paparazzi. "You'll need all your concentration if you're going to pull this off."

You gave him a reassuring smile, determined to support him through the day.

The air buzzed with anticipation and energy, but despite the noise and activity, the unresolved emotions between you two lingered, a quiet storm waiting to be addressed.

"Max, you've got this," you said, giving him a quick, encouraging nod before stepping away. He returned the nod, his eyes briefly softening before hardening with focus.

You left Max to focus on his preparations, giving him a supportive pat on the back before making your way through the crowded garage.

Miraculously, you managed to avoid the paparazzi and found Alexandra near the hospitality area, her eyes lighting up as she saw you.

"Hey, Alex," you greeted her. Your voice was a mix of relief and anticipation.

"There you are," she said with a relieved smile. "I was starting to worry they'd swallow you whole!"

"I thought so too, I don't know why they acted like that," you said, shaking your head in disbelief.

"I think it was because of yesterday," Alexandra commented, her expression growing serious. "The rumors about you and Max really stirred things up."

"What rumors?" you asked, your heart skipping a beat.

Alexandra sighed, glancing around to ensure no one was eavesdropping. "There's talk that you and Max are more than just friends, and it's got everyone buzzing," she explained, her eyes filled with both concern and curiosity.

"They got a glimpse of you and Max leaving the club holding hands, so they just assumed you two were dating," she continued, her voice barely above a whisper.

Your cheeks flushed as the memories of the previous night flooded back, the moment innocent but easily misconstrued. "Great, just what we needed before the big race," you muttered, running a hand through your hair.

"Is it true?" Alexandra asked, her eyes searching yours for any hint of the truth. You hesitated, the weight of the question pressing down on you. "No, well... I don't think so,"

You stammered, feeling the heat rise to your face. "We're going to talk about it after the race. There's just too much going on right now to sort it out."

Alexandra nodded slowly, her expression a mix of understanding and concern. "I can see how things could get complicated," she murmured, glancing back towards the garage where Max was still preparing.

"Just make sure you both have a clear head for the race. The last thing you need is this drama distracting you."

You sighed, grateful for her support. "Thanks, Alex. We'll figure it out one way or another," you said, giving her a small, reassuring smile. "Right now, we need to focus on the task at hand."

Alexandra nodded, her face softening with understanding. "I get it. Just make sure you two sort it out. It’s important for both of your sakes, especially with so much at stake today."

She paused, then added, "And remember, I'm here if you need to talk or just need some support. We've got your back, no matter what."

"Thanks, Alex. That means a lot," you replied, feeling a wave of gratitude wash over you. You stepped forward and pulled her into a hug, needing the reassurance of a friend's support in this whirlwind of confusion.

She hugged you back tightly, whispering, "You've got this," before stepping back and giving you a determined look.

As you both pulled away, you glanced around the bustling garage, the sound of engines roaring and mechanics shouting orders filling the air. "Let's get through today first," you said, trying to infuse your voice with the confidence you didn't quite feel. "After the race, I'll sit down with Max and we'll clear everything up."

Alexandra gave you a firm nod, her eyes reflecting her belief in you. "Good. And remember, whatever happens, we're a team. We'll get through this together," she said, before turning back to her duties, leaving you with a renewed sense of determination.

You walked back into the Red Bull garage, weaving through the busy crew members and the organized chaos. Spotting Max near his car, you took a deep breath and approached him.

"Hey Max," you called out, trying to mask any lingering anxiety. He looked up from his preparations, his eyes meeting yours with a hint of curiosity and concern.

"Hey," he replied, looking away from his car to glance at you. "Everything is okay?"

You nodded, forcing a smile. "Yeah, just wanted to wish you good luck. Let's focus on the race and leave everything else for later."

Max's expression softened, and he gave you a reassuring nod. "Sounds like a plan. Thanks," he said, giving you a firm pat on the shoulder.

"Oh, I forgot to do something," Max said, grabbing something from the nearby table. You raised an eyebrow, unsure of what he was referring to.

Before you could ask, he reached over and took off your Mercedes hat, replacing it with a Red Bull one. "There," he said with a grin, "now you're properly dressed for the occasion."

You laughed, feeling some of the tension ease. "Thanks, Max. I guess I did need a little wardrobe adjustment," you replied, adjusting the new hat on your head. "Just remember, no matter what happens out there today, we're in this together."

Max nodded, his expression serious but supportive. "You're just saying that because you got 'adopted' by your idol," he teased, extending his hand for a firm handshake.

"Exactly! You'll have to call me Y/N Hamilton now," you smirked, joining in with the handshake.

Max chuckled, shaking his head. "Never in my life will I ever call you that Y/N, you know that already."

Just then, a crew member signaled to Max that it was time to get ready for the race. Max glanced at his watch and nodded, turning back to you with a determined look. "Alright, I have to go now. But remember, we'll talk after the race, okay?" he said, giving your shoulder a reassuring squeeze.

You nodded, feeling a mix of anticipation and support. "Good luck out there, Max. Give it your all," you urged, stepping back to let him head towards his car. Max flashed you a final grin before heading off, his focus shifting entirely to the task at hand.

As you watched him walk away, you couldn't help but feel a swell of pride and camaraderie. The roar of engines filled the air, signaling the start of an intense competition.

You took a deep breath, knowing that whatever the outcome, the bond you shared with Max and the team would only grow stronger.

Throughout the day, you mingled with the fans, soaking up the atmosphere and excitement. As the race began, you cheered for Hamilton, hoping for a victory for your home country.

The event kicked off with a thrilling qualifying session, where Lewis Hamilton and George Russell of Mercedes secured the top two positions, narrowly edging out the young sensation Lando Norris of McLaren. Max Verstappen qualified fourth, setting the stage for an intense battle at the front of the grid.

As the lights went out, Hamilton made a perfect start, maintaining his lead into the first corner. Norris and Verstappen engaged in a fierce fight for second place, with the Dutchman eventually managing to make a bold move and take the position.

The race was filled with intense on-track action, as the drivers pushed their cars to the limit on the iconic Silverstone circuit. Oscar and Carlos fought their way through the field, making impressive overtakes and fighting for a podium finish.

Hamilton managed to hold onto his lead, with Verstappen and Norris in close pursuit. The battle for victory came down to the final laps, with Verstappen making several attempts to pass Hamilton, but the British driver held firm, crossing the finish line to the delight of the passionate home crowd.

Lando Norris secured a well-deserved third-place finish, with Oscar and Sainz rounding out the top five.

You could feel the tension in the air as the race unfolded, every corner and straight away leaving you on the edge of your seat. When Lewis Hamilton crossed the finish line, you erupted in celebration with the rest of the fans, the atmosphere electric with joy and pride.

The victory felt like a triumph for everyone present, a testament to the dedication and skill of the entire team.

You were close by when Lewis got out of his car at the number 1 place and he jumped out to meet his parents. The emotion on his face was palpable as he embraced them, the crowd's cheers echoing in the background.

It was a moment of pure triumph and familial pride, one that you knew would be remembered for years to come.

Lewis then ran over to you and gave you the biggest hug, his joy radiating through the embrace. "We did it!" he exclaimed, his voice filled with triumph and gratitude.

You could hardly believe it, standing there in the midst of the celebration, feeling the warmth of his victory shared with you.

The crowd's cheers grew louder, a symphony of adoration for their champion, and you felt an overwhelming sense of connection to this incredible moment. As the noise of the crowd swirled around you, Lewis pulled back slightly, his eyes sparkling with unspoken emotion.

"Thank you for always believing in me kid," he said, his words sincere and heartfelt. The world seemed to fade away as you shared that instant, knowing that this victory was not just a win on the track, but a culmination of years of hard work, perseverance, and unwavering support.

"It was all you," you said, smiling through the tears that had begun to form in your eyes. Lewis shook his head, still beaming.

"No, this victory belongs to all of us," he replied, his voice steady and filled with gratitude.

Lewis then left you to go hug his team, the very people who had worked tirelessly behind the scenes to make this victory possible.

The mechanics, engineers, and strategists all gathered around him, their faces lit up with pride and relief.

Each hug and handshake was a testament to the unity and effort that had propelled them to this moment. The bond between the team members was evident, a shared understanding of the countless hours and challenges they had overcome together.

As Lewis made his way through the throng, he paused to exchange words of gratitude and congratulations with each person. The joy in the paddock was infectious, spreading like wildfire among everyone present.

The cameras flashed, capturing the raw, unfiltered emotions that painted this victorious scene. It was a reminder that while one man may stand on the podium, the triumph is always a collective achievement, built on the foundation of teamwork and mutual respect.

As you were cheering for Lewis, you didn't realize when Max got out of his car and walked over to you until he was standing in front of you, his helmet still on his head.

Startled, you looked up to see the intense gaze behind his visor, a mixture of disappointment and adrenaline in his eyes.

After he didn't move and all you could hear was his harsh breathing, you quickly helped him with taking off the helmet. As it came off, his face was a portrait of raw emotion—disappointment mingled with exhaustion, yet there was an unmistakable glint of respect in his eyes.

"You were incredible out there," you said softly, trying to bridge the gap between rival and friend. He nodded, his expression softening slightly as he took a deep breath. The tension slowly melting away from his shoulders.

He nodded before moving closer to you, his breath warm against your ear as he whispered, "After this, be in my room." A shiver ran down your spine, the unexpected command sending a surge of adrenaline through your veins.

You couldn't help but feel the intensity of the moment, the lines between competition and something deeper blurring in the dimming light of the paddock.

You met his gaze, searching for any hint of jest, but all you found was a seriousness that made your heart race. "Max, what are you—" you began to ask, but he silenced you with a small, almost imperceptible shake of his head.

"Just be there," he insisted softly, his voice a mix of urgency and something else you couldn't quite place. With that, he turned and walked away, leaving you standing there, your mind a whirlwind of thoughts and emotions.

You watched the podium ceremony unfold, the cheers of the crowd and the spray of champagne creating a festive atmosphere. Yet, no matter how hard you tried, you couldn't shake Max's words from your mind.

His voice, that hint of something unspoken, echoed in your ears, overshadowing even the triumphant smiles of the winners. As the drivers celebrated, your thoughts kept drifting back to that moment, the weight of his command lingering heavily.

Back in the team garage, the clamor of post-race activities did little to diminish your inner turmoil. You replayed the scene over and over, analyzing every detail of his expression and tone.

What could he possibly want? Why the urgency?

As the minutes ticked by, you found yourself drawn inexorably towards his room, curiosity and anticipation intertwining in a complex dance. Your heart pounded in your chest as you approached the door, uncertainty mingling with a strange sense of inevitability.

As you walked, suddenly someone took your hand and pulled you into Max driver's room—it was Max. The door closed behind you with a soft click, and you found yourself standing inches from him, your breath catching in your throat.

His eyes were intense, a storm of emotions swirling within them that you couldn't quite decipher.

"I needed to talk to you alone," he said, his voice low and steady, a stark contrast to the chaos of your thoughts.

Before you could respond, he stepped closer, his presence enveloping you. "There's something I've wanted to say for a long time," he continued, his hand still gripping yours tightly. "But I didn't know how, or if it was the right time."

You could feel the weight of his words, each one laden with unspoken meaning. The intensity of the moment was almost overwhelming, and you knew that whatever he was about to reveal would change everything.

His eyes bore into yours, filled with an intensity that made your breath catch in your throat. "What is this about, Max?" you finally managed to ask, your voice barely a whisper.

He took a step closer, the space between you shrinking to nothing. "There's something I've been hiding, something I need to tell you before it goes any further."

His hand remained on yours, grounding you as the weight of his words settled in. You could feel the gravity of the moment, the potential for everything to change hanging in the air between you.

Max’s grip tightened slightly, as if drawing strength from your presence. "I’ve been battling with this for so long," he began, his voice barely above a whisper, "and I can't keep it to myself any longer. I’ve been feeling something more than just camaraderie between us. Every race, every strategy session, every moment we've spent together... it’s become clear to me that it’s more than just professional respect or friendship."

Your heart raced, your mind spinning with the implications of his confession. "Max, are you saying...?" you trailed off, unsure if you dared to hope for what his words might mean.

He nodded, his eyes never leaving yours as he took another step closer, his free hand gently cupping your cheek.

"Yes," he said softly. "I’m saying that I’ve fallen for you. And I couldn’t go another day without telling you, without knowing if you might feel the same."

Your breath hitched at his confession, emotions swirling within you. "Max, I... I don't know what to say," you stammered, your heart pounding in your chest.

His gaze remained unwavering, filled with vulnerability and hope. "Just tell me how you feel," he urged gently, his thumb brushing against your cheek.

Tears welled in your eyes, a mix of relief and confusion. "I've been trying to convince myself it was just friendship," you admitted, your voice trembling. "But deep down, I've felt it too. I was just too scared to acknowledge it, afraid it would ruin everything."

Now that everything was out in the open, a sense of liberation washed over you. The weight of unspoken emotions lifted, replaced by a cautious but undeniable hope.

"But knowing you feel the same changes everything," you whispered, a tentative smile breaking through your tears.

Max's eyes lit up with a mixture of joy and relief, a broad smile spreading across his face. He pulled you into a gentle embrace, his arms wrapping around you as if he never wanted to let go.

"You have no idea how happy you've just made me," he murmured into your hair, his voice filled with an overwhelming sense of contentment.

He then pulled back to look at you, his eyes mostly glancing at your lips without any hesitation. The air between you crackled with a palpable intensity, a silent promise of something more.

His breath mingled with yours, creating a heady blend of anticipation and longing. "May I?" he asked, his voice barely more than a whisper, seeking your consent with every fiber of his being.

You nodded, unable to find the words, your heart pounding in your chest. As his lips met yours, the world seemed to melt away, leaving only the two of you in a cocoon of shared emotions.

The kiss was tender yet filled with unspoken promises, a confirmation of the feelings you both had been harboring for so long. When you finally pulled apart, his forehead rested against yours, both of you catching your breath.

His eyes held a depth of emotion that took your breath away, shimmering with love, relief, and an unspoken promise of a future together. A gentle smile tugged at the corners of his lips, his gaze soft yet intense, as if memorizing every detail of your face.

"Love you," you whispered without thinking, the words slipping out before you could stop them.

For a moment, you worried you had said too much too soon, but the way Max's eyes softened reassured you.

"I love you too," he replied, his voice steady and sincere, as if he had been waiting to say those words for a long time.

The weight of the moment settled between you, both comforting and exhilarating.

"What happens now?" you asked, your voice barely above a whisper. Max's hand found yours, his fingers intertwining with yours in a gesture that felt both grounding and electric.

"We take it one day at a time," he said, his smile widening. "No more hiding, no more pretending. Just us, figuring it out together."

The simplicity of his words brought a sense of calm over you, and you nodded, feeling more certain than ever that this was just the beginning of something beautiful.

"That means supporting me before Lewis," he teased, a playful glint in his eyes.

You chuckled, shaking your head with a mock-serious expression. "That's a bit of a stretch," you replied, your tone light and teasing. "I might need some convincing before I switch allegiances."

Max laughed, the sound rich and warm, filling the space between you. "Challenge accepted," he said, his grip on your hand tightening slightly. "I'll just have to work extra hard to win you over, won't I?"

"Well, you've got your work cut out for you," you replied with a smirk. "But I'm open to seeing what you've got." His eyes sparkled with determination, and you couldn't help but feel a flutter of excitement.

"Don't worry, I love a good challenge," Max replied with a confident grin.

"By the end of this, you'll be my biggest supporter, just wait and see."

i.t.y/n

liked by maxverstappen1, mercedesamgf1, lewishamilton, and 1,702,847 others.

tagged; maxverstappen1

i.t.y/n: Hey everyone! I know I've kept you in the dark for a while, but I'm excited to finally share that Max and I are together. We've been enjoying our time together and wanted to keep it just for us for a bit. To make up for the secrecy, here are some adorable photos of Max that I know you'll love.

I have to admit, he's managed to convert me into a Red Bull fan. But don't worry, Mercedes will always have a special place in my heart. Thank you all for your understanding and support. 💙

view comments below

maxverstappen1: Schatje I love you 🫶

i.t.y/n: I LOVE YOU TOO MAXIE 🥰🥰

lewishamilton: Congratulations on your relationship! I hope you both the best 😊

i.t.y/n: Thanks dad! I'll always be supporting you in secret 👍

lewishamilton: @maxverstappen you better take care of my daughter

*liked by i.t.y/n*

maxverstappen1: Yes sir

mercedesamgf1: Don't worry Y/N, we know you will always belong to us 🩵

maxverstappen1: Actually Y/N is all mine and always will be mine so respectfully f**k off

i.t.y/n: Max what did we say about bad words????

maxverstappen1: sorry schatje, @mercedesamgf1 I mean with all the respect I can have, please frick off

*liked by i.t.y/n*

user2: NOT MAX FIGHTING WITH MERCEDES ACCOUNT OVER Y/N????

user3: Y/N is actually living the dream 🥹

i.t.y/n: @maxverstappen1 I was just looking at the pictures of you that I took and you're always smiling in them

maxverstappen1: That's because I love smiling at what's mine 🫶

i.t.y/n: That's so sweet! 🥰🫶

maxverstappen1: Wanna meet me after sim practice??

*liked by i.t.y/n*

[violet-eng]

fem!reader studies Neuviotter! | Fluff 🧸 with Otter Neuvillette… 🔞with Human Neuvillette.

Summary: You're a Sumeru's researcher obsessed with Fontaine otters. So you basically adopt one... unfortunately it looks like that isn't an otter at all...

Warning: 🔞 MDNI. ALL SMUT IS WITH HUMAN NEUVILLETTE! Somnophilia, oral (fem! Receiving), p i v. Unprotected sex.

1.8k words.

Not edited.

⏜︵⊹︵⊹︵⏜︵୨୧︵⏜⊹︵⏜︵⊹︵⏜

The prestige of your research precedes you. A diligent student with a flamboyant gait, brilliant ideals and precise knowledge. You arrive at Fontaine from the Sumeru Academy with a precedent never seen before, with your lively, attentive eyes and your notebooks covered in leather the same color as your eyes.

Word spreads immediately that the wise y/n, scholar of the Academia, has come to Fontaine to study a creature that has captured your attention to leave the green land for that of the primordial sea. Could it be that you want to study a mythical creature that lives in underwater caves? Or perhaps a glorious bird has captured your thirst for knowledge?

How surprised your guides were when you shouted with excitement, unable to contain your joy like a little girl, when you spotted a little otter poking its head out of the crystal clear water. You jumped up and down, unable to contain your happiness, exclaiming how amazed you were to see one so close.

Alone, you photograph the otter and go so far as to dive underwater with it, surprised more by how clever it is than by your new curious ability to breathe underwater. What a joy it is to find a group of creatures frolicking with a clam in their midst, spinning in the water and turning to look at you. You may have been down there for an hour.

Back on the surface, sitting on a rock with your feet in the water, you jot down the details in your notebook, tracing with the vague lines of a sketch the elusive shape of the little animals. Concentrating on your task, on defining the details of its snout, you notice on the other bank an otter, different from the others, grooming its head with its small hands.

You watch it carefully, the creature seems a little larger than the others, slender and almost like a gentleman...

"A gentleman otter," you whisper, enraptured by the delicate and magnificent figure grooming itself in front of you. 

The otter makes sounds as he wipes his own face, lying on the surface of the water, carving his features and nose, while his two gnawing teeth peek through his pearly fur. Its small hands wash its own belly, almost ironing its fur as if it were the robe of a great lord. Deeply adorable. You hastily sketch the picture in front of you, not missing a tender detail of the cuddly toy floating carefree on the calm current.

The otter watches you with a lost look, black eyes that seem not to contain a single thought. The bliss of the ignorant. And you wave at him from your rock with a smile.

The otter swims toward you, and when he's within striking distance, he watches you, as if studying you. 

"How smart you look," you say, clutching your notebook to your chest, "and very adorable. Look at you," you show him the drawing.

The otter stares at the paper with a certain analysis, but his unmistakable expression doesn't change. Then he seems to comb an invisible curl out of his furry head and approves your sketch with a formal nod.

"What a gentleman," you squeal, climbing down from your rock and returning to get your things. The otter emerges from the water, shaking his body to dry himself from the water, though he remains fluffy.

"I thought you were waterproof," you laugh at the sight of the expressionless furball, seemingly oblivious to his adorable embarrassment, "you're different, aren't you?" you approach him with a rag, trying to dry him.

You pull him onto your lap, paws up and his belly exposed as you dry his chest with your cloth, as if he were a baby. Then you wipe his little hands and then his paws. His face is now dry. The otter played with your bracelets, making funny noises and showing his little pearly teeth.

"Do you like it?" you ask, putting it down. The Otter nods enthusiastically. "It would look very cute on you," you add, taking off one of your bracelets and placing it around his neck.

The elastic of the bracelet is lost in his white fur, and the pendant stands out as if it were the clasp of a breastplate. 

"You're missing a hat, and you could pass for another Fontaine gentleman," you exclaim, pleased with the result, as the otter poses like an elegant gentleman, his small chest puffed out, almost proud of how adorable he looks.

"It's getting dark, I should get back now. See you another day, Mr. Otter," you say, slinging your bag over your shoulder and waving your hand.

The otter hurries to follow in your footsteps, prancing subtly near you, his wet nose brushing against your ankle.

"You want to come with me, huh?" you kneel before him, and he touches your nose with his paw. "Fine, fine. We'll have a sleepover."

The place you're staying in is small but cozy, and it gets even cozier when you turn on the heat and put food on the table. The otter sits in a chair across from you, on a mountain of books, and tastes several of the snacks you've served him, though you see him going crazy over some consomme purete and the big glass of pure spring water you've served him.

"You like that, I noticed," you say.

"Burp," the otter replies with a burp that he seems to regret immediately.

"You have more manners than many people," you tell him, wiping his whiskers with a napkin.

"Okay, I'll brush your teeth and then off to bed," you say happily, with the idea of reading to the little animal before bedtime.

You sit him on your sink in front of the mirror, lift his jaw and brush his teeth with your toothbrush and toothpaste, first one side and then the other, make him drink some water and then spit it out, although he swallows it.

"Not your thing to waste water, apparently."

The otter nods.

Then you brush his head, chest, back, and tail, letting him groom himself, and when you try to remove the pin, he hides it in his small hands.

"Okay, okay... I'll leave it to you," you smile.

And then you lie in bed with him in your arms, illuminated by the dim light of your lamp, holding a book with an adventure story in it. You read aloud to him, stopping when you hear him whistling and snoring. 

"Good night, Gentleman Otter," you kiss him on the forehead before turning off the light and going to sleep. ....

You're not one to dream, not at all, but ever since you came to Fontaine, you couldn't help but have these nightly fantasies about Iudex Neuvillette. That stoic and serious man, how good his face would look contorted with pleasure as you sucked his cock.

You had dreamed of a similar situation many times, you had dreamed of him against you as he pinned your frail figure against his desk and thrust into you, biting your lower lip. You had had your first fantasy after a trial, thinking how manly he would look behind you, his cock buried in your ass....

All those dreams had been vivid fantasies, and tonight's took the prize.

You lay on your bed, him biting your neck as he rests behind you, his hands playing with your breasts at his whim, his tongue sliding over your skin, enjoying the nectar of your pure complexion, his cock swollen against your clothed ass.

"Mmmmhhhh, Monsieur~" you moan, writhing in his grip.

The wonderful thing about these dreams is that you don't know how you get into these situations, but you know how to enjoy them. Because from one moment to the next, the oh so taciturn Iudex Neuvillette has his face buried between your legs, tasting your folds and your clit with his trained tongue.

"Right there~" you moan, arching your back as you feel the desire well up from his mouth, his tongue drawing lustful strokes across your sex, his deep sighs stoking the fires of your passion.

His hands wrap around your legs, and for a moment you swear it's real, the way his nails dig into your skin, leaving reddened marks in their wake, and his thumbs sink into your thighs, anchored to you with no intention of letting go.

Then you feel him thrust into you, opening your silken walls in his wake, his thick cock making its way to your center, molding your walls to his erect, large form. You feel him rub against you as your insides embrace him with little restraint.

You hear him moan and feel your legs rise up over his shoulders, his cool hands at your ankles pressing down on you, thrusting slowly but deliciously, almost as if you were made for him. 

"Monsieur Neuvillette~" you moan, clutching the pillows, your hips bucking at the growing warmth in your belly, your hands seeking your own pleasure.

"Warmer than I thought," he whispers, "

it is almost like n your dreams... though this time it feels so real...

You look at him for the first time, his face sweaty, his cheeks flushed as his locks of white hair fall down your legs. His strong arms hugging you, his pecs rising and falling, holding breath... lower down, his chiseled abdomen twitching as his cock buries itself relentlessly inside you.

The sound of his balls against your skin blows your mind and makes you realize that it's not a dream, that Iudex Neuvillette is really fucking you (and very well, much better than you expected).

"Monsieur..." you try to sit up, but he has touched your cervix with his cock, and you do nothing but collapse under him, filled with the pleasure of his gentle thrusts.

"Do you want me to stop?" he asks you reverently, in a tone of sublime courtesy and lofty superiority, as if he were not mercilessly fucking you at his whim while you sleep.

"Don't stop," you whimper between words, not wanting to waste the opportunity you've been dreaming of since the first time you saw him, "damn it," you exclaim at the wave of heat surging through your chest and legs as you hear him chuckle under his breath, quite pleased with what he's managing to make of your body.

The orgasm hits you warm and rough, just as Neuvillette did with his cock, careful not to leave his seed inside of you. And your breath comes back as you feel him caress your back as if to reward you.

You feel his lips on your forehead, and the way his arms hold you beside him as your eyelids droop at the inevitable.

"How did you get here?" you babble, half asleep, caressing his chest as he draws soft circles on your arm. 

"You invited me," he whispers as he brings your hand to his neck where your bracelet encircles his skin and the charm falls to his chest.

"You'll explain it properly tomorrow," you murmur between confused shuffles...

[tadpolesonalgae]

Can’t Bring Myself To Hate You - Part 7

A/N: Right, this might get a little confusing, but you know how we (English speakers) kind of went from Latin, to old English, to Now English? I’m substituting those for the Old Language, ‘Middle Language’ (the transitional phase—completely made up), and whatever the common tongue is for Prythian? Yeah, sorry about that!

Warnings: none…? I don’t think…?

Word Count: 5,587

-Part 6- -🌌🌠- -Part 8-

You stare at the page, heart in your throat.

Stare at the page, and reach for a pen.

Who is this?

Ink stains the white paper, and stupidity heats your features. He probably left it as a taunt. It’s not like he’s going to respond. You groan, setting the pen down, covering your face with your hands. Mother above. Definitely not your smartest moment. Reach to flip the paper over—not wanting to be reminded of your naïveté.

More ink has appeared, just below your scribbled question.

You may hide your intelligence around your family, but that won’t work with me. Smarten up.

The words burn your features. Scowl at the paper.

Forgive me for not anticipating the paper to talk back, Eris.

It vanishes the second you’ve written the sentence, leaving you blinking at the empty space on your desk. Winnowing isn’t possible within the House of Wind—you’ve heard both Rhysand and Feyre say it before. Yet note passing seems completely acceptable, for some reason. You suppose no harm can derive from simple exchanges.

You’ve been surrounded by magic for nearly two years. It’s shameful to still be taken aback by its multi-faceted ways.

A reluctant smile gilds your mouth. That’s Eris alright. Readjust your hold on the pen.

And it’s embarrassing to rely on stupidly long words in attempt to prove your intellect. Just say it’s versatile.

The parchment disappears, then returns. Nothing’s been added.

Amusement brightens your mouth, raising the writing instrument, poising it to attack. The words dance on your tongue, weapons to provocation: You have a bad attitude to being spoken back to. But you shake your head, instead choosing compromise for your next reply.

Did you want something? I doubt you simply dropped in to say hi. Unless this is your way of making sure I got the book?

Perhaps it was my way of seeing where you fall in this alliance.

Brow draws together. He obviously means the alliance between the Night Court and him, but where do you fit into it all? How does this show your placement? What does he even mean, where you fall? Take a deep breath, release it. It will do you no good to fall for his own provocation.

I hope you were satisfying enlightened, then, you write back.

Quite.

Stare at the neatly scripted response. He’s leaving the conversation for you to direct. First thoughts go to where he acquired the book, but somehow you feel that’s not the direction he wants you to take this in. So, sighing, you stumble straight into the trap he’s laid out.

Why haven’t you told anyone?

Paper vanishes again. Takes a minute to reappear.

It’s pretty blackmailing material. Why waste it in common conversation?

Lips purse together as you read his reply. Manipulative indeed.

Whatever you think you’ll be able to extort from me, I can guarantee you’ll end up disappointed.

Not the family favourite?

Blink at the speed of the response. Like quicksilver. Vague amusement warms your chest—how clear the mockery is. Disconcertingly comforting to know he doesn’t change. The same in every form. Precious constancy. Lower the pen to parchment.

I suppose you would know all about that, wouldn’t you?

And I suppose you’ll hide beneath the guise of observation, now?

It certainly isn’t warfare. I’d think you’d be practiced at spotting pretty, bladed words.

Again, the parchment vanishes, leaving you in the silence of your own room. Feet tap anxiously upon the clear wood, leg vibrating as you wait on him. Realisation smacks you upside your jaw—you refuse to sit here wasting precious seconds for whatever nihilistic response he carves out for you. Instead, you turn to the anthology, flicking to the index, peering at titles. Searching for one that will catch your eye.

I’m flattered—you’ve sharpened your tongue since we last sparred.

Roll your eyes. Lips quirking at the inherent Eris-ness of the response.

Wooden swords will only serve me for so long. Why not experiment with steel in a controlled environment?

The parchment vanishes, and takes its time to reappear. Time you spend scanning titles, pondering their contents. Maybe you should ask why he gave it to you in the first place. Certainly not out of the kindness of his heart.

Paper reappears.

You think merely because there are entire courts between us that makes you safe?

Peer at his reply—try studying it. Does he want you to be wary of him? It seems unlikely, somehow. He wouldn’t be able to get anything from you if you’re afraid of him. He should be encouraging you to feel at ease speaking with him if he wants something.

Do you make a habit of being as unpleasant as possible to every person you encounter, or am I just lucky?

A smile warms your mouth as the paper vanishes, fantasising how irritated he might become. From your words! Exhilarating!

Eyes land on a title that piques your interest: Movement of Light. Brow narrows with interest, flipping to the registered page number eagerly. Upon the parchment, beside the tightly knitted words, lays a neat diagram. It appears to be of a rectangle with two small holes punctured through its thin mass. Interesting…

Do you make a habit of keeping secrets from your family?

Lips purse. Cutting to the core, again. Manipulative as he may be, he’s certainly skilled at finding the right bruises to target. You wonder if it’s a skill he’d been taught through books or word of mouth, or if, perhaps, it was a nastier kind of education. Shake your head free of thoughts, pulling away from the book.

Having no secrets at all is stupidly idilic. Are there any other misconceptions you would like me to clear up?

You’re surprisingly cynical for your age.

Strange how having one’s mortality ripped away will do that to a woman.

Even you can hear the bitterness bleeding through. But the words have been written, and the paper has disappeared, so there’s no use trying to take them back. Even if you’re mentally cursing yourself for allowing that kind of opening. Surprised at how easy it is to be caught up in conversation with him. Or sparring, as he so eloquently puts it.

Wonderful immortality not treating you well?

Again, with the taunting. Amusement and something else prickles beneath your fingertips. Irked.

I’ll admit, it’s not quite as spectacular as I might’ve thought once upon a time.

That seems measured enough.

I thought humans were raised to hate us.

Observe the words—how they sit on the parchment. The contrast between your short scribbles and his elegant font.

Might a deer not wish for a wolf’s strength?

Parchment again vanishes. Once you’ve counted to three, you turn your attention back to the book, scanning the passage of writing. Brows narrow at the leap in language—words you’re unfamiliar with. A photon? Maybe it would be better to start from the beginning. Where’s a damn glossary when you need one?

Paper reappears—you take a moment to pull away from the volume.

Have you always been in pursuit of grandeur?

Brow narrows at the question.

I’d say I’ve always been rather passionate about not starving. So I suppose I did once think having three hot meals a day would be utter luxury.

I would have rather rotted away than be forced to live amongst vermin.

A surprised laugh flutters from your chest, amusement sparking within you again.

You’re much too stubborn for such a miserable end, Eris; too bitter to resign yourself to such a fate, either.

Parchment vanishes. One. Two. Three. Return to the volume, start at the beginning. Where your eyes were intended to land. Sighing, you scan the title: The Foundations of our World—Stuff. Brow narrows, lips quirking upward at the vagueness of it. Stuff. Such a lack of precise articulation, yet here it is, in an anthology of noteworthy discoveries. Somehow, this piece had been selected as important; important enough to be the base for the entire book. Strange…

Eye roll across the tightly stacked letters, mind pulsing as words soak into your brain, thumping dully as blood rushes through your ears. Take everything at it’s basest nature, reduce it down to the fundamentals, and what sort of building blocks are you left with? What makes up the world as we see it?

‘Take the prefix a- from the middle language, and combine it with the Old Language verb to cut, creating the name for the indivisible: atom. The smallest bits of matter that can exist independently.’

Intrigue returns with crushing force, making it near impossible to tear your eyes from the volume when the parchment reappears. How long has he been writing? Maybe he was preoccupied.

And yet I understand it was the youngest of you who took up her weapons and headed out into the wild. For how adamantly you protested against my lack of action regarding something I could easily correct, you seem to appear quite the hypocrite. Why didn’t you go out into those woods?

Blink away the memories of frost. Of sweat-stained clothes, and matted, knotted hair.

Getting a little personal with the questions, don’t you think?

Writing to me at all is much more personal than you should ever be getting—I’m sure your friends would agree. Yet there you are, pen in hand, thinking up your next counterattack.

The reply comes with surprising swiftness, allowing you only a brief glimpse of the following passage. Just as you’re beginning to grasp the core of what the essay is talking on.

You write with the confidence sight, you reply, eager to return. Yet he seems to have put his own distractions aside, as the response follows promptly.

Magic is a wonderful thing.

Blood ices in your veins, limbs stiffening, tongue turning leaden.

You’re lying. The House is fortified with wards; practically impregnable.

Yet here we are, corresponding. Does your High Lord know what you get up to behind closed doors?

Heart spikes in your chest, fingers trembling just a little as you lower pen to paper.

You clearly want something; you’re not going to get it if you spook me away, so quit the games.

Very well, but I’ll admit I indulged in the thought of your discomfort.

Release a heavy sigh—he doesn’t somehow have a window into your room, able to watch every move you make. Surely that would be too far, even for his manipulative ways. Skin prickles at how easily he slid beneath it—fingertips brighten.

You share that delightful, sharp-written humour with your youngest brother, you know that?

The parchment vanishes, then reappears in a matter of seconds. You laugh to yourself.

Touchy subject, Eris?

The second you dot the question mark, the door swings open; you yelp, jumping in your chair, shoving the parchment away. Vanishes again a blink later, slightly crumpled from the violent rejection.

“I knocked…” Feyre supplies, features tightening with concern. “Did you not… Oh.” She blinks, peering at the door frame; the threshold. “I suppose it must have been set up to block out exterior noise, too.” Sighs. “I’ll get that fixed at some point. Seems a waste to have a sound barrier up if you’re unable to hear what’s going on outside.”

Swallow heavily, trying to look normal. Like you weren’t knowingly communicating with the heir to the Autumn Court throne. Blue-grey settles upon you, fingers fidgeting in your lap, shifting in your seat to get comfortable. Everything feels unsettled. Her brows arrow, “you’re… What were you doing?”

“Nothing.” You reply, quickly. Far too quickly to be normal.

Lips quirk. “Writing to Bas?” She teases.

Heavy sigh whooshes from your chest, deflating a little. “How do you know about him? I haven’t even mentioned him to ‘Lain,” you say lightly. Something flashes through her eyes, too quickly for you to decipher. “Az mentioned you had someone after you,” she laughs, stepping into the room, door closing behind her. “I had no idea it was so serious,” she smiles, the happiness so inappropriate with the context you have.

Shake your head in denial, “he’s just a friend. There’s nothing else going on.” She gives you a look to say she doesn’t believe you. “I’m serious,” you insist. “There’s nothing romantic going on.” That part’s true, at least.

Feyre laughs again, then shifts on her feet. A strange quest seems to overtake her. “You know things are different here,” she begins softly, “to how we lived as humans.”

Heat flushes your features, making you groan. “Oh my gods, Fey. I am not having this conversation with you.”

“I’m just saying, if you want to get out there…see the world…maybe a few males, too… That’s fine. That’s stuff we can do, now. Well, you can do.” She amends the last part. After all, she’s the youngest, and already has a mate, a husband, and a child. An entire family. The epitome of womanhood.

Shake your head adamantly, “please, stop.” You grimace. Her lips quirk, mischief in here blue-grey eyes. She’s so lively…spirited. Bubbly? But calm, too. When did she become so adult? She seems to have aged in the blink of an eye.

(Why didn’t you go out into those woods?)

She shifts again, peers around the room—it’s a superficial move. She’s buying time, building up to something. “Your floor’s clear,” she notes, nodding to the clear wooden boards. Nod in response, trying not to wring your fingers. You were doing nothing wrong. He had spoken first. Nothing to be guilty about; no one got hurt. It’s fine.

“About our last interaction…” she begins, quietly. Spine stiffens, heart spikes. “I wasn’t trying to find something wrong with you; I’m sorry it came out that way.”

Exhale softly, shoulders lose their tension. Smile easily, waving her off. “Oh, don’t worry about it,” you laugh. “I understand. I’m sorry for lashing out at you, it was unfair on my part to act that way.” Her eyes narrow on you. Keep up the smile. “Is this your way of saying you just don’t want to talk about it?” She asks, softly. Blue-grey shimmers with sincerity.

Lips begin to ache with the stretch. “What are you talking about? We’ve made peace, there’s no need to exacerbate this.”

“Do you not want to talk about it?” She reiterates, keeping calm and quiet.

“What is it?” You laugh, turning to face the desk, eyes flitting to the volume. Scan the page; absorb nothing. “What you said last time. About being a burden.”

Body stiffens, breath catches.

“Fey, I’m getting tired,” you excuse, voice steady.

“You’re tired a lot,” she replies, quietly. Still watching. “Maybe Madja should take a look at you.” Sigh. Lean back in your chair. Tilt your face back, peering at the ceiling. “I’ve had a long life,” you murmur up to the white wallpaper, “I’m allowed to be tired.”

“You’re barely twenty-two.”

“And a lot has happened. I’m allowed to be tired.” You repeat, not looking at her.

Silence stretches between you. Gentle, but taut.

“How about you?” You ask, shifting the conversation over. Turning to peer at her. Your younger sister. Feyre blinks, then nods her head. “Good. Wonderful.” Watch her silently. Mark the lowness of her lids. “Nyx still waking you up?”

Nods again, smiling faintly, traveling somewhere distant. Somewhere foreign to you. “Eight days a week,” she laughs quietly. “Rhys and I are taking turns looking after him during the nights. Despite his work-load.” Sighs, pushes hair from her cheek, tucks it over a pointed ear. “He’s been great. Supportive, attentive, perfect. I keep trying to get him to let me handle Nyx, but he’s insisting it’s a joint effort. Wants to be there in a way his father…” she trails off, eyes misting.

Nod your head slowly. “And I suppose you want to be there in a way our mother…?”

“Yeah,” she replies thickly. “I guess that’s part of it.” The quiet turns viscous, coagulating into something almost translucent.

“I read some things…” you begin gently, “about the turbulence of motherhood.”

Her features lift into a smile, “oh, don’t worry about me. Rhys and I are working through it. It’s difficult, but everyone’s there when the strain starts to set in.” You blink away subtle surprise. “Mor’s always up for taking him off our hands for a day or two. It’s the same with Cass and Nesta,” she laughs fondly. “Amren…well, she’s Amren. And Elain’s great at making little treats here and there. Smiley faces out of his breakfast and things like that—he loves it.”

You nod slowly. Blink. “That’s great.” Again the silence creeps in.

Then she’s shifting on her feet, and. You just know—

“What kind of person is Bas?” She inquiries, not at all subtly. Nosey.

“He’s my friend, and nothing else.” He’s much more than a friend, but there’s no way to explain that without an entire Court’s worth of misunderstandings and uncomfortable questions. Still, she nods, but remains in your room. “And he… His intentions?”

“Feyre,” you scold, incredulously.

Your younger sister doesn’t flinch. Keeps her gaze straight. “Okay. Okay,” she sighs, holding up her hands in defence. “I’m wary of him.”

“Please, you can trust me he’s harmless. To me, at least. I’m sure if someone swung at him he’d be the type to swing back, but that’s besides the point.” You leave out the part that you’re fairly certain he would be the one to also somehow provoke a fight. He can be pretty provocative when he wants to. Not always in a bad way…

(…a hot, male body that’s pressing you into the wall.)

“I just want you to be careful,” she says quietly, eyes misting, going somewhere far away. “Males…people can be unkind. I don’t want anything to happen to you.” Amarantha, Tamlin… You nod your head, “I understand. But Bas…I can trust him. So please don’t doubt him; please don’t doubt me either, in this decision.”

Feyre nods again. Silence stretches, then she straightens. Pats the doorframe. “Well, I’ll have this fixed as soon as possible. It’ll need to be disabled, than I can remake it—so you’ll be able to hear people coming. It’d be awful if you got yourself hurt from being startled by one of us.” She gives you a sweet smile, then disappears out into the hall, door clicking shut behind her.

Unsure if it’s her silent feet or the sound barrier that prevents you from hearing her disappearing footfalls.

————

Skin is itching, fingers burning. Heart spiking.

Burning, burning, burning. Hands on fire.

Vision blurs, floor spinning. She’s on the ceiling.

Crash into a wall, bone crunching. Stumble to the kitchen.

Water. Where’s water. Burning skin. Charring fingertips.

Liquid drips down cheeks, splashing onto knuckles.

Scraped raw, searing pain. Bone splintering, nails peeling.

Cool water fills the sink, drown her hands.

Sweet strangulation, dulcet deprivation.

Lovely oblivion.

————

Breath eases in and out, soothing your lungs. In and out. Slow and steady. In. And out.

Chest deflates, keeping your body straight but relaxed—imagine sinking into the mattress. Cheeks puff up with the exhale, calm and quiet. Sit silently. Allow the world to fade. Tension seeps from your shoulders, muscles relaxing the way you’ve practiced. Now to make sure you don’t drop off instead.

Empty out thoughts, settle into the silence. Float away on a breeze. Imagine hands being set aglow. No. They are aglow.

Eyes remain shut, tight. Picture the radiant green seeping onto your skin, setting it alight.

Fingers twitch, bones itch. Teeth grind. Nails heat.

Eyes open in time to catch the glow as it fades, sinking back into your skin. A flicker of Starfall, then nothing. Sigh heavily, back slumping, shoulders sloping. It’s something; most importantly, it’s progress. Day three of fourteen. Slow movements, slower response. Gently stoking the flames.

Remove the light from your world, lids closing, return to the darkness. Seeking solace. Breath eases in and out, soothing your lungs. In and out. Slow and steady. In. And out. In. And out. Fingertips warm, but eyes remain closed. Don’t acknowledge it. Can’t look or feel for it. Allow it to grow in the back of your mind, allow into latch into your blood; flourish. Swirling and billowing, gaining momentum until it can move on its own, until it can function without nurture.

Keep your back turned to the power, allow it to remain unseen. Pull it upward; hear as it cracks and fizzles in your head. Rapidly dividing…splitting at high-speed…multiplying until it boils and bubbles. One cleaves another in two…into three…nine…

(…Twenty-seven, eighty-one, two-hundred forty-three…)

(…two-thousand one-hundred eighty-seven, six-thousand five-hundred sixty-one, nineteen-thousand six-hundred eighty-three…)

(One-million seven-hundred-seventy-one-thousand one-hundred forty-seven.)

Heat burns your fingertips, flashing pain blaring so rapidly, sparking like lightening across your palms, splintering phalanges…down into the carpal bones, nearing your wrists.

Vision blasts into view, pupils contract to tiny dots, shrinking away from the pale green light that’s blazing from your hands, barreling up your forearms, crackling past elbows, bolting up, up, up… Muscles seize, contracting against the hot itch scrambling your flesh, twisting at sinew. The blinding light dims, eyes peeking open as it dulls to a quiet luminosity, tinting your skin. Feels like poison ivy…the nettles by your old estate.

Swallow, staring at the radiance. Almost mesmerising enough to block out the burn. Throat itches, tongue sticking to the roof of your mouth. Deep breaths. Ease in. And out. Deep and easy. Calm and quiet. Collected.

Slowly, warily, you rise from your bed, door swinging open on the house’s command. Silently pad down the hallway, arms and torso concealed well by your dress, cardigan hiding the faint incandescence of your wrists. Hands—no way to hide them. Ignore it for now, you need a drink. Deep and easy. In. And out. Calm. Quiet and collected.

A glass waits for you on the table, walk steadily forward, fingers tremble as they clutch the cup. Water vibrates inside, tiny ripples fluttering across the surface. Effervescent bubbles shimmer at the base. Grow larger, swelling into compact air, fizzing up. Simmering in your hands. Tension coils your shoulders, brow dampening. Liquid heats up, boiling into a volatile mess. Bubbles pop at the surface, scalding water splashing onto your knuckles.

Scream as glass shatters, burning your bare feet as the liquid sprays.

Heart spikes, glowing brighter, inching up your arms, over your shoulders. Crawling across your collar bones. Muscles knot, tangling over themselves as they seize in terror. Power coils closer, snaking toward your throat, slowly…slowly…

“What—”

Hazel pierces into you, flicking over your hands, marking the shards of glass. He appeared in a flurry of darkness, shadows pulling back once he’s materialised in the doorway. Eyes already scanning for the source of distress. Fix on the slow spread of toxic green as it tip-toes higher. Hits a barrier. It’s a small hesitation—but it’s enough. Magic flickers, recoiling from your clavicle, enough hesitation to be quashed. Like a weight sinking down, an avalanche of rock crushing vermin, bones crunching beneath the pressure. Incandescence shoved away, dripping down your arms, cut back to your fingertips.

Sweet relief washes over you, waves of coolness cresting from your forehead to your toes. Lovely reprieve. Exhale heavily, spine nearly collapsing beneath the strain, leaving a slight glimmer to your fingertips, nails curved and warped from heat. Stagger back as he silently moves toward you. Scarred hands reach out, wanting to touch; wanting to steady.

“Are you—”

“Don’t,” you bark, snapping your arms closer to your body. Feel their unnatural heat as it singes the fabric of your dress. His nostrils flare, scenting the charred material, shadows flicker.

Call breath into your lungs, soothing. Deep and easy. In and out. Calm and quiet. In. And out. Calm and collected. A familiar scent has hairs raising at the back of your neck, eyes flicking up to lock with hazel. Closer than before. Despite the heat.

“What was that?” He asks, the deep roughness of his voice curling across your breastbone, soothing the heated skin like a balm. Swallow heavily, keeping your hands tight to your torso. Turn away; move to the sink. The tap turns on independently, cool water sizzling as it washes over trembling hands. Cold metal mollifies your skin, a comfy weight around your neck. The tiny barrier your magic had hit. Tripped up on.

Azriel doesn’t make a sound, but you can feel him nearby, standing at your side. Watching silently as the water fizzles and hisses, the last of the glow dimming from your fingertips. How close he’d come to touching the blisteringly hot skin. Slowly, the cold begins to souse into your digits, running smoothly over your hands, no longer bubbling or evaporating on impact.

The house has already cleared away the shards of glass; dried the pool of scalding water by the time you’ve dried your hands. Flaky, and ashen. The smooth, creamy texture seemingly been ravished by the heat. Yet all you felt was a slight itch to begin with. You don’t make any attempts to conceal how quickly you want to escape the room, but you’re kept where you are. Waiting…waiting for him to change his mind about keeping your secret. After what he’s just seen…

Feet are pinned to the boards, muscles unwilling to obey your mind as you explore them to turn and leave. Arms feel leaden, stiff and immovable. Wait for the compromise to be retracted. Hands tremble, teeth faintly bite onto your tongue. Wait for the condemnation. For being so foolish; stubborn.

“Are you hurt?” Words thud dully against your ears, keeping your hands as out of sight as possible, hidden beneath the sleeves of your cardigan. Nod dutifully. “I’m okay,” you murmur. Lips are numb, mind buzzing faintly. Floorboards spin ever so slightly, blurring in and out of focus. Deep breaths. In and out. Slow and steady. In. And out. Calm and collected. In. And. Out.

Boots appear at the top of your sight, just a little way from your own. Far enough not to be intimate. He holds out a scarred hand, palm facing upward. Almost expectant.

Blink away the dizziness. Flesh tingling…wriggling beneath your skin. Nails itching.

Wait silently to see what he’ll do.

Continues holding out his hand, waiting patiently to see if you’ll offer up your own. Remain rooted to the spot, numbness crawling beneath your sleeves. Mind buzzing with confusion at the outstretched palm.

Slowly, he begins reaching for your wrist, as if to inspect the results of the experiment. Analyse the consequence. Examine.

It topples you into motion.

Turn on your feet; quietly scamper off down the corridor. Behind the safety on your door.

With the wooden barrier in place, plus the sound block on your room, you can truly feel forgotten for a while. Like time’s stopped.

————

The shower had your blood moving again, temperature cooling to a regular heat. Mind working again, mentally cataloguing every thought you had, every twinge of unusualness that could have been the signposting you should have noticed to prevent that rapid surge of…burning.

Peer down at your hands, almost absently. Aside from the slight roughness to your skin; the chapped dryness to your knuckles, there’s nothing to show for the bone deep itch that had manifested within your flesh. Just the texture becoming sandpapery. Flaky.

A dark blue towel is draped over your shoulders like a shawl, preventing the damp ends of your hair from saturating the changed dress.

(What was that?)

It stopped almost out of nowhere. One moment, steadily spreading throughout your body, the next, it seemed to stumble. Like hitting a bump of some kind. Something that disturbed its momentum. Peer down at the necklace that’s sitting comfortably around your throat, resting just above your collar bones. In the dip of their joining point.

The small, glass pendant hanging from the bronze chain sits innocently on your person. Fingers brush over the map in wonder, curiously feeling. Cool metal contains the accessory, lead encapsulated within a gleaming polish. Even the underside has a pretty finish. Lead, bronze, and glass. Maybe some ink, but that’s all it is. No secrets carved to its base, no hidden compartment. Just a simple ornament, yet something about it disagreed with you. Thank the Mother.

Fingers play with the charm as you take a seat at your desk, reopening the volume. Rusty red leather creaks as you turn to your page, more than willing to submerge yourself in learning. The candles flicker as you ease out a breath, taking in the familiar scent of parchment and something pleasantly spiced. Maybe it’s an Autumn Court scent.

Crumpled paper lands on your desk, settling comfortably between the two large pages of the anthology.

It may surprise you to learn I have better things to do than spend all my hours writing to you.

Stare at the neat, elegant script. Debate the merits of responding willingly. Returning to this strange sparring match would be acknowledging your interest. There’d be no way to talk your way back to innocence. Putting pen to paper will mean…

And yet here you are, Vanserra, writing back to me.

Oh, you hope that irritates him. Hope he sends back something vicious. Something to make you spark awake again. To light up the numbness that’s turning your world monotone.

Would you like to tell me where these wrinkles came from?

Lips tug at the edges, but remain set in a dull line. Lower your pen to the roughed-up parchment. Fingers dry and somewhat cracked in the low light.

Nonsense, Eris. You don’t look a day over thirty.

Picture the way his sharp caramel eyes blaze with ire at the brazenness. Maybe his palms also heat when he’s in a mood. It’s a little comforting to remember power probably didn’t come naturally to him. Maybe. You’re making assumptions, though.

And you don’t dress a day over fifty. Considering Rhys’ wealth is at your fingertips, you have the fashion sense of someone who’s still destitute.

Mouth parts as you read the response. Brows flicking up your forehead. Harsh…

A smile quirks the corners of your lips.

I’ll have you know I dress for comfort. You’re the one who cares so much about prettification. Maybe I could visit your personal beauty parlour sometime, Eris?

Parchment vanishes, allowing you time to peer down at the diagram before you: a small rectangular table. There are various squares left blank, while others are filled in with one or two letters. The boxes that do contain letters attached are numbered, correlating with asterisks further down the page, displaying a full title.

Who would ever accompany you? It’s bad etiquette to visit a tonsorium on one’s own.

The smile fades after a few moments. Who would go with you if you wanted to visit somewhere? Elain? Feyre? …Mor? Shake your head, pushing away the dismal thoughts he’s brought to your attention. Divert elsewhere.

It’s worst to not entertain your guests. What a miserable (and sour) host you would be. I think I’m actually quite glad to not be visiting anytime soon.

Try to return to the anthology; find yourself awaiting his reply. Leg tapping against the floorboards. Minutes pass while you attempt to absorb more of the text, but nothing’s sticking. Like there’s a fog passing through your brain, stopping you from taking in the wonder of the world. More minutes tick by—the sky a solid dark blue the other side of your window. A few other candles gleam alight, and you murmur your thanks to the House. Flame flickers in response. Oddly comforting.

Eyelids start to feel heavy, weighing into your vision.

You don’t realise you nodded off until you wake from your nap. The desk is still void of a reply; you wearily peer around your room, attempting to orient yourself. Knuckles itch to be scratched, still rough to the touch. Gaze settles on your door. Perhaps it’s a little scary that you wouldn’t know if something was lurking directly the other side. Wouldn’t be able to hear any heavy breathing, or the scrape of steel. Deep breath, because there’s nothing there.

Stand to draw the curtains, but hairs stand on end. Remain still for a few seconds, centring on the feeling. Is it fear? Is it loneliness? Brow knits in concentration, absently drawing the curtains, turning back to face the entrance to your room.

(The only exit.)

Sigh in frustration. It’s not good to give into your…however you’re feeling. It will only encourage your mind to exacerbate whatever problem its fabricated. Still, you find yourself opening the door, peering down the well-lit corridor. Nothing there, no strange feeling, no lurking presences. Just your mind finding something to react to, creating a madness to subject you to. Deep breaths. The House of Wind is secure. Safe, and secure. You’re safe here. Nothing bad will happen; you won’t get hurt.

Deep breaths, heart lowering its pace.

Move to bring the door to; notice something on the ground, beside the frame.

Crouch down to pick up the small tin. Bring it inside, door swinging shut as you hold it up to the light.

Peer at the neat label. Pop open the lid; look inside.

It’s a small pot of hand cream.

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[gavisfanta]

gavi smut while the reader is on her period?

SOULTIE - GAVI

summary: the request pretty much explains it

a/n: its not that detailed cause i think this is a bit weird so its short!

warnings: smut 18+

You were just on your way to your boyfriends game. You were walking through the tunnel and as you finally reached your seat you sat down.

Camp Nou was beautiful, as always. However, as soon as you spotted Gavi, you couldn't take your eyes off of him.

You didn't say ut out loud often, but you absolutely loved him, every part of him. He was perfect in your eyes.

Everything he did made you just fall more and more in love with him.

You absolutely adored everything about him.

His family often told you two that you two are soulmates and are meant for eachother.

You smiled while Gavi kicked the ball and scored a goal. You jumped up and celebrated immediately.

He ran over the field and sent a kiss to you.

You smiled as you watched him celebrate with his teammates. Gavi then pointed up at you and that also made the others look up at you.

He then formed a heart with his hands again.

"He really loves you huh?" Anna said who was sitting next to you.

"I hope so." You laughed and then kept watching the game.

As the game was over, you waited for Gavi in his car. He has given you the car keys in prior so that you could sit in there and wait.

You had small cramps which made it a bit uncomfy to sit the whole time but you managed to survive until Gavi came back.

It was the first day of your period and the first day was always the worst one.

"Hey mi amor." Gavi sat into the drivers seat and cupped your face and kissed you immediately.

"Hey" You smiled as soon as he pulled away but kept looking at you.

"You look beautiful in my jersey." He started pulling at the material of the jersey you were wearing.

"Did you see the goal I scored for you?" He then asked as he brought his hand up to your cheek, caressing it with his thumb.

"Of course I saw it." You smiled and his lips also curled up into a smile.

"I'm glad." He then turned to start the car and drove home.

His hand stayed on your inner tigh the entire time, drawing small circles into your skin.

After you two arrived home you felt some pretty big and painful cramps from your stomach.

Gavi noticed that the way you walk in has changed. He raised his eyebrows immediately and gave you a look.

"Are you okay Cariño?" Gavi asked and opened the door for you to get inside. You moved inside the house and took off your shoes. You just wanted to get into bed st this point.

"I'm just having some pretty bad cramps so I'll go upstairs and I'll head off to sleep." Gavi stayed silent while you told him about the cramps and he immediately knew that it was his turn to take care of you now.

But after Gabi joined you to sleep too, you still couldn't shut your eyes. It was too bad.

So you thought of something that may release the tension.

"Gavi, I have an idea." You turned to face him and he raised his eyebrows. "What if we have sex," You said and he sat up.

"During your period?" His eyes widened a bit and then a small smile made its way to his face.

"Por favor Gavi." You pleaded as you were now sitting on top of his waist. You leaned forward to kiss his neck and then ran your hand down his body.

"Are you sure, it'll be worse for you then for me." Gavi smiled a bit while he leaned into your toch and you sat up immediately.

"I mean, it's something new, come on." You got off of him and laid down next to him while opening your legs, you were still wearing your panties as he stood in front of you.

You were horny the whole time while you were on your period and you always let Gavi know.

On that very day you wanted to ask him if he wanted to try out something new and sleep with you while you were on your period.

"I'll help you clean the sheets after." Gavi mumbled while he walked over to the bathroom in his boxershorts to grab a towel and he put it under your ass and legs.

"Thank you" You mumbled and pulled Gavi closer to you, he attached his lips to yours and then he opened your bra. Then his fingers hooked into the waistband of your panties and pulled them down slowly.

Then he pulled away and looked at your entrance. "You look like some kind of valentines day present." Gavi laughed and started to take off his boxers too.

"That's so nasty." You laughed out and then watched as Gavis hard dick springs out of his boxershorts and hit his lower abdomen.

"Keep your legs open for me hermosa." Gavi then alined himself with you and kissed your neck.

"Mhm" You hummed and just a few minutes later you felt him stretch your pussy out as you were clenching around him."God you're even tighter like this." Gavi groaned as he pushed his length fully into you and have you some time to adjust.

You felt everything ten times more detailed and you felt his dick poking your stomach as you arched your back.

"Okay, start moving." You told him and he nodded his head. He slowly started to pull out of you and you saw that his dick was a bit covered in blood.

"This is so kinky." Gavi laughed a bit and you nodded your head.

"This actually creates a soul tie, so make sure to fuck me good." You told him and he just leaned forward and then started thrusting into you.

Skin clapping, loud moans and wet noises filled the room as Gavi thrusted into you at the fastest pace he probably ever has.

"Fuck." He breathed in deeply as he leaned down to kiss your neck. "You're so tight."

You were unable to speak with how good he was fucking you, you could have came any second and Gavi noticed how tensed up you were.

"I'm about to cum too, let go." He gave you a reassuring look and then you let your orgasm wash over you while he came at the same time.

You whimpered after he pulled out of you and then pushed his cum back into your pussy with his fingers.

You clenched around his fingers since your pussy was still very sensitive. Gavi laughed while he looked up at you.

"You want to shower princesa?" Your boyfriend asked as he lesned over you and pressed a long and passionate kiss on your lips.

You hummed. "Mhm"

[petertingle-yipyip]

STRANGER (iii) - KAZ BREKKER

tags: @beekeepingageissome @shadowzena43 @nikfigueiredo @mp-littlebit @starmansirius @hadesnumber1daughter // previously // next

Pairing: Kaz x Davina Rollins (enemies to lovers)

Word Count: 6,655

Summary: Davina’s reappearance has Kaz reconsidering just about everything. Meanwhile, Davina seems to be building a strong foundation for her snakes.

“I’m sure we’ll meet again soon, Brekker.” She nodded.

She blended into the crowd seamlessly and Kaz had lost the silhouette of her hood quickly. He hadn’t moved from his spot and the bustling crowd seemed to move around him, the way water rushed around rocks. Too many thoughts were swimming in his head.

Davina Rollins had left her father. There was a strange relief in that confirmation. He’d heard rumors that the beloved daughter had disappeared years ago, but he hadn’t cared to look into it. Davina had always been kind to him and Jordie, but he had no expectations of her turning on her father.

The hooded girl left more questions than answers. Who was she? What was she to Davina? How much did she really know?

Then, as he thought of them both, he realized something. He knew her. Maybe not in any real sense given that he couldn’t think of what her name could be, but he had met her before. Maybe it was years ago, maybe it was just in passing, but damn it all he should know who she was.

As he picked up walking again, he thought of Davina. A certain fondness settled in his chest and he tried to banish it. He hadn’t thought of her often, but when he did, it was always a pain. He remembered an easier time, when he was just a boy. When he had his brother. Davina was someone he thought was gone forever, like Jordie, but now she was somewhere near.

Despite that, he couldn’t imagine what Davina would look like now. It had been years since he’d seen her, and even remembering her as he knew her was harder lately. When he laid to sleep and let his mind wander, inevitably to those memories, her face started to blur. Her voice was muffled. He couldn’t fully remember the way she said his name, the way she laughed. He cursed himself for forgetting that.

He needed to find the girl in the hood again. She held the answers he wanted and he’d do what he needed to get them.

It took a few days but the girl resurfaced. She had visited Nina Zenik, left some sort of token to be delivered, so he asked Inej to retrieve it. The Wraith returned with a handful of papers.

“Drawings?” He flipped through the pages. “She asked Nina to get drawings to me?” It would’ve been a lie if he had said he wasn’t a bit offended.

“I didn’t tell Nina, but they’re rather well-done.” Inej said honestly. “She must be around more than we realize.”

She was right. All the images were perfect. He lingered on the page that had him and his brother. Jordie was the one face he’d never forget, even when he wanted to. Even when the memory changed from his smiling, warm older brother to the cold, bloated, water-logged corpse that brought him back from death.

Kaz dropped the papers on his desk with a sigh.

“Can you find her?” He asked, but he knew the answer.

“The hooded one or the Rollins girl?”

“The Hood may be an interesting investment. The Rollins girl can wait.”

He decided to omit Davina’s name for now. That was one of his many secrets, a tidbit of information that he could keep to himself for a little while longer. There was sentiment there, he knew, but he could ignore it. Call it a tactical advantage. Or simply a spin of Maker’s Wheel. A gamble.

He didn’t need to look to know Inej was gone. He both cursed and thanked her silence, footsteps light as feathers. When he was alone again, he lifted the drawings again and found himself staring at a penciled image of himself, from years ago. A boy lost to the waters. Dead and drowned, resting beside his brother, the Bastard of the Barrel returned to take his place. He had known he hadn’t fully let go of his brother. Part of him knew he never would while the other wished it so.

But looking at that drawing, he was that boy again. Playing with a girl with the biggest eyes he’d ever seen, a smile that was dazzling like sunlight, a voice that was always warm and welcoming. A girl that had made him laugh, played games with him, made up a ridiculous nickname for him.

“I like calling you Kazzle. You can call me Davi, if you’d like. My parents do.”

“I like Vina better.”

“Hmm.” She thought on it and then smiled. “So do I.”

“Damn you, Davina.” He cursed to himself and tossed the paper aside again.

He ran a covered hand over his face, hoping to rid himself of some of the thoughts. It didn’t work.

No, of course it didn’t. Davina had always had those hooks in him. No matter how he shoved the thoughts away, ignored the little things that could remind him of her. She was there, like a ghost, watching but never speaking.

Despite it all, he knew it all would be for nothing. Davina was still a Rollins. She was still Pekka Rollins’ daughter. And if he had his way, to break down everything the man had brick by brick, he just might be able to use Davina to do it. And if he had to, he’d do just that.

So Kaz cast the treacherous, childish adoration aside. He silenced the voice in his head that was calling her name, froze the warmth in his chest at the idea that she still thought of him, ignored the yearn to see her, find her himself and find out if he could be brave enough to confess anything to her. Instead, Dirtyhands would come to see the hard work done.

That was who spoke to the Hood when they brought her to the Slat.

He sat in front of her for a bit while she was unconscious, and she seemed to take an eternity to wake up. In the time between finding her in the alley and setting her up in the chair, Inej gave him what was allegedly a ring from Davina’s childhood. He could only vaguely remember the accessory so he simply put it on a chain and tucked it under his collar. He had stepped to the side and even considered calling for Nina Zenik when she finally came to.

The Hood infuriated him almost instantly. Her tongue was shaped by spite and anger, but if someone were to pay enough attention - the way Kaz did - they’d see she was hiding something. Most bravado was a facade for something, and the Hood was no exception.

Then her taunts began. She mentioned the gloves, as most do. That meant nothing to him. He had heard all the tales and even fabricated some of his own, but the name struck him like a blow.

Kaz Rietveld.

She spat his true name at him as if a threat, and Kaz Brekker was not someone to threaten. He was going to let it go, say something else that would make her cower, but she then mentioned his brother.

His movement was a reaction, a yank of the crow’s beak across her face. Their back and forth continued, nothing Kaz hadn’t expected, until something peculiar caught his ear.

“Your snakes?”

The panic was obvious in those wide eyes, though she covered it quickly. He knew there was something to that slip-up in her persona, the alleged right hand to Davina Rollins, but he couldn’t quite pinpoint it. Yet.

Even in that fleeting moment, her wide eyes seemed familiar to him. He started to wonder…

Another act of arrogance, another movement of the cane. Another dance of words and threats.

“What makes you think you haven’t led us to her already?” Kaz asked. His tone was simple, as if asking about stock prices or an old friend, but the threat was clear.

Her brows furrowed in thought as she dropped her gaze to the floor. She was retracing her steps over the past few days, wondering when she had lost the illusion and exposed everything.

He knew she hadn’t. Inej had followed her for almost a week until the Wraith grew annoyed at the Hood’s purposeful dilly-dallying and returned to the Slat. Yet the possibility was still enough to throw her off balance and Kaz reveled in her desperate attempt to confirm with herself that she hadn’t betrayed her gang.

Again, he found familiarity in the Hood when she spoke again. In that determination to protect and defend what was hers, to challenge those who dared to take it. He knew he had seen it in Davina, when they would play and one of other neighborhood children tried to take her toys or change the rules of their game.

Then the Hood broke free and kicked him in the head before fleeing.

It was months before he crossed paths with the Hood again. In that time, Nina had sent word that she was being visited by the Hood often. Jesper swore he saw a hooded figure in the shadows. Even Wylan was jumpier than usual.

Inej, as always, was the picture of calm. Stillness, simply squaring her shoulders as a dare to the Hood and all of Davina’s snakes. Kaz had never said it aloud, but he was thankful for her quiet presence.

He had gathered a name in that time as well, Melli Dimitrov. She was seen flashing the snake tattoo and a few well timed passings told Kaz that she was highly favored by Davina. It was a gamble, but when Kaz saw the Hood again, he threw the name out.

She denied it, of course. Kaz had expected that much. He wasn’t fully convinced Melli was the Hood, but he knew dangling that knowledge was a powerful taunt. It showed the Hood and Davina that she was not as hidden as she believed. That her snakes weren’t as careful as she needed them to be if she wanted to keep herself hidden.

Then the Hood threw herself into the canals.

Good, let her drown.

The next day, a loudmouth in the Emerald Palace let it slip that Davina would be visiting her father that night. It took a whirlwind of moves, but Kaz gathered Wylan and Jesper to stage the job while Inej kept their path clear.

He was going to get to Davina.

He caught her running from the Emerald Palace, blood dripping off her arm and a mask hiding the bottom half of her face. He snatched her by her wrist and pulled her out of sight. But when he looked at her, truly took her in and studied her, she was the little girl he knew.

After he learned the truth of Jakob Hertzoon, he believed the rest of the family were fake as well. He had thought the girl he knew as Davina was an actress, maybe intended to protect the real Rollins daughter. But with her standing there in front of him, knowing what he knew, he couldn’t deny it. Part of him was glad that there was some truth to those memories.

Her eyes were still the biggest he’d ever seen, though there was a sharpness in her stare now. A tiredness that weighed on her brows. Her cheeks weren’t the round shape he pictured anymore, matured with her time away. He could see the head of the snake peeking out of the open buttons above her dark vest.

She was Davina but also, he came to realize, the Hood.

How he didn’t realize before given those damn moon eyes he didn’t know and he would’ve cursed himself for it had that prickly feeling of dread not settled in his stomach. Well, if Davina hadn’t hated him before, she very likely did now.

“Hello, Davina.” Once he said her name, that boyish part of him that was kicking its way to the forefront was wishing he hadn’t. Her name was his secret and now it was said aloud, but at least they were alone. And he still had her nickname.

Vina. She’s Vina to you and she’s alive. She’s right here.

“Hello, Kaz.” She said in relief and he felt his heart beat a little faster. He knew she was smiling under the mask and the thought to take it off her crossed his mind. He wanted her to say his name like that again and again. Relieved. Grateful.

He would want to hear her say his name in any tone, he decided. Anger, disappointment, cheerfulness, resentment, regret, relief. He wanted the questioning sound of worry for when his luck would run out before he could more. He wanted her to say his name with a laugh, scold his name for a comment too cruel or an action too underhanded. He wanted all of it from her.

He almost said as much until he caught sight of her bloodied shoulder again.

He snapped back to focus. Back to the job at hand.

But of course, Davina saw through it. She threw Jesper at Kaz and ran off.

“I like her.” Jesper coughed with a smile once Davina had disappeared.

“You like women that punch you in the throat?” Kaz shoved his friend off and got to his feet.

“I like the women that don’t avert their eyes from the Bastard of the Barrel.” He snorted. “She’s not afraid of you, Kaz. That’s gotta be worth something..”

“She will be.” Because fear was better than whatever else was stirring in his treacherous heart.

He considered chasing her but he knew she was long gone. He huffed a sigh and motioned for Jesper to follow back to the Slat. He knew Inej was watching from above. He saw her hesitate to follow, but after a moment she was moving with them from the high ground.

Jesper talked the entire way back. About how Pekka Rollins could shoot his daughter, what Davina could’ve said to piss her father off, whether or not Davina was on her father’s side, what to do next time they saw her. He seemed rather giddy for that one. 

Kaz thought of the ring sitting at the end of the chain around his neck. He kept it there since Inej had delivered it to him. It was an unsaid promise that he’d see her again. As the Hood, she had made threats to return for it. The thought nearly made him smile. He pictured the way she’d walk up to him, maybe demand he hand it over. Maybe she’d try to hit him, pull her blade on him, aim a gun at him. He knew he’d give it back when she came for it, but he wouldn’t just hand it over. She had given it to him as a gift after all.

When they got back to the Slat, Inej met Kaz in his office.

“You let her go.” She pointed out. He noted no anger in her voice, just interest.

“I did.” He confirmed. How was he to deny it?

“Why?”

He set his cane aside and pulled his gloves. One was stained with Davina’s blood. “Do you think Davina and her snakes could be useful to us?”

“Do you?”

He raised a brow and gestured expectantly for her to speak.

Reluctantly, she did. “Davina is still a Rollins. We cannot prove she is truly separated from her father just yet. She bought the gambling den he owned.”

“Word is she cut him out.” Kaz countered. “Her lieutenant was quite excited about that bit. And, well, he did shoot her.”

“Taking one piece of Rollins’ holdings isn’t enough.”

Brick by brick. That was how he had planned to take down Pekka Rollins. And that was exactly what Davina had done. One brick.

“No, but it’s a start.”

“What do you know about her?” Inej stepped closer, a new fire sparking her eyes. “Why does it matter if they’re useful? I don’t think she’d truly ally her snakes with anyone.”

He wanted to tell Inej. He wanted to tell her that Davina was the first friend he had in the Barrel. That she and him had something good, something not even her father could corrupt. He wanted to say that Davina haunted him, day in and day out. She was the little voice in his head that kept hold of his humanity and shoving it to the forefront when he needed it. But he didn’t.

How could he?

Snakes and Crows never did get along.

“We have the advantage over Davina.” He said instead. “Our numbers are better but I’d argue her coffers are better padded. And her snakes may not be helpless, though I doubt they have real strength yet.”

“What are you suggesting?”

“I’d like you to deliver a message to Davina.”

Her brows raised in question.

“If she wants to keep that gambling den, she’ll be paying a tax to the Dregs.”

“You think putting her under Haskell’s thumb a bit will pacify her?”

“No. Something tells me her father’s downfall would be the only thing for that.” In that, he understood her.

“Then why?”

He gave a small shrug. “Maybe it’ll humble her. It was you who said her pride would be the Hood’s downfall, didn’t you? It’s the same for Davina.”

“How are you so certain, Kaz?”

“She’s yet to prove me wrong.” Briefly, he thought of that night near the canals.

“Is it even midnight?” She practically laughed, just before the bells. “Oh Saints.”

“Let that be a lesson. I’m almost never wrong.”

He shoved the thought away and focused back on Inej. “Tomorrow night, I ask you to deliver a message from the Dregs to meet. We’ll use the square. I doubt after whatever happened in the Emerald Palace she’d be willing to come to us, and I’ll be damned to go to her. Her Hood is too crafty to allow any advantage.”

He thought of how she broke free the night he had her. How she dove into the canals. How she’d even escaped the Wraith.

“She’d never let us in her snakes’ den.” Inej shook her head. “You’ll have to tell Per Haskell.”

“Yes, I’ll deal with the old man.” He waved a hand.

“Could she get to Stadwatch?”

“Even if she could, she won’t. She can’t make that kind of show of force whether she wants to or not.”

“The Hood spoke as if Davina knew you.” Inej pointed out. “Tell me how you know her.”

“I’m not sure I do.” He said lowly, as if admitting those words would hurt him. And maybe they did. Maybe he needed that hurt to stop the infernal swooning at the thought of her. “And I’m not so sure she knows me at all.”

“Then at least tell me you have a plan.”

“My dearest Inej.” He offered her a near smile. “I always have a plan. We won’t be bested by Davina Rollins or her snakes.”

Meanwhile, you were cursing every decision you had made since you were a child.

You had made it to the safe house and managed to get the bullet out. You cleaned and dressed the wound as best you could before burning the blood soaked gloves. You ate some of the hidden rations and rested, a pitiful and restless night of what barely passed as sleep. The next morning, you dressed in some of the spare clothes.

You kept your pants and wore your vest underneath. You had a rough, worker’s shirt that was two sizes too big but it hid your protection so you didn’t mind. You had a long scarf that you draped over your head and pulled over your mouth.

It made you wish you had stashed Komedie Brute costumes as well. You shrugged your good shoulder, just another thing to add to the list.

You managed to make it to your Healer.

“At least you had the good sense to clean it.” She chastised with her accented Kerch, a light knock to the back of your head before her hands went to work.

“Yes, I seem to have all the good sense the Saints gave a rock.” You rolled your eyes, gripping the shawl in your other hand tightly. You thought your fingers would tear through the fabric.

“You should find a Corporalnik to add to your clutch.” She said, an off handed comment that felt more loaded than it should.

“Are you not my ally?”

“And what happens when you can’t make it across East Stave to find me? You bleed out in some alley and your body is added to the Barge. No, girl, you need someone closer to home.”

“There’s someone you’d like me to take in.” You understood. “Are you certain I could trust them?”

“He’s a good boy.” She promised. “He ran from the Little Palace when I did. I don’t want to send him away but he needs his own funds. I can only provide so much for him.”

“I see… He’s a Healer you said?”

“A gifted one. An average Tailor.”

“What of a Heartrender?”

“Poorly, but he could learn if you need him to.” She hesitantly admitted.

“Would he want to?”

“Using an untrained Heartrender may kill someone you didn’t intend to.”

“Yes, well, at this point I may need to.” You mumbled then winced as the wound burned sharply through your arm. “Hopefully he’s gentler than you.”

“Do you want quick or gentle?” She snapped, pinching your underarm.

You hissed slightly but said nothing. When it was done, you felt only soreness. You pulled your usual payment from your boot but she pushed your hand away.

“Take in my boy.” She said and you saw it in her eyes. A mother’s love, aching to protect her child. It made your chest tight.

“Take the money.” You gently insisted. “I’ll meet him. I may even know someone who can help.”

Maybe befriending Nina Zenik would have an advantage.

“Thank you, Snake.” She nodded, accepting your payment.

“Davina.”

“Myranda.” She nodded once again.

“I’ll come back at ten bells tonight. What’s his name?” You drew your cover over your head.

“Kolya.” She gave you a small smile. “But he likes Kol.”

With that, you were gone. You went back to the snakes and some fussed about your return. Some were quick to assume you were dead, but given your choice of interactions, you didn’t blame them. You simply waved them off, promised you were okay, asked one of them to bring you a proper meal, and went to your office.

Melli was the one to bring it to you and you were thankful for that. She made idle conversation about what you missed. The paperwork was submitted and approved, so you were now the official owner. All that was left would be to name it.

“We could call it something clever but snake related.” She offered. “Like the Viper Pit.”

You made a face.

“Serpent’s Den? Snake Nest?”

“Play with the ‘s’.” You suggested. “Like a snake’s hiss.”

“Oh!” She clapped. “Something like Sss…”

“Snakes are symbols of things like healing, protection, intuition. You get any ideas from that?”

“Hmm. Sixth Sense?”

“And one of the ‘s’ can be a money symbol.”

“Yes! See, this is why we need you.”

You smiled slightly.

“How do you feel?” She asked gently.

“Physically, I feel good. Mentally, I’m exhausted, Mel. Brekker was going to snatch me off the streets. My father shot me. The only good thing that has come from this is that I’ve potentially found a Corporalnik for us.”

“A Heartrender?” Her eyes were wide.

“A Healer.” You corrected. “But he could learn.”

“Where’d you find him?”

“His mother has done a few healing sessions for me, says she wants him to have his own money and that way I have someone ‘closer to home’.”

“What’s his name?”

“You can come with me to meet with him tonight and bring him here. Tomorrow, I’m going to try taking him to Nina Zenik.”

“The Dregs’ Heartrender.”

“I’ve been friendly with her and turns out, she was training with the Second Army for Ravka till she got caught up in a Drüskelle raid.”

“And now she’s in Ketterdam? I thought no one escapes the Fjerdan witch hunters.”

You shrugged. “I didn’t ask, but she’ll teach him.”

“And if she just runs off to Dirtyhands and tells him you’ve recruited a Corporalnik?”

“The only thing left for Kaz to do is to actually kill me.” You shook your head.

“Or me.” She mumbled, picking at a loose thread at her cuff.

“What?”

“You said it yourself. He thinks I’m the Hood.” Her eyes wouldn’t leave her sleeve. “What if he kills me thinking it’s her?”

Your chest tightened at the thought. Imagining Melli at Kaz’s mercy, the cruel things he could do just because he thought she was the Hood. But when you thought of the alley, the way he’d looked at you like he saw through you… And then there was the fleeting way he looked at you like you just hung the moon.

“Melli, you have my word.” You promised. “I’ll slice off each and every one of his cursed fingers if he so much as touches you. Okay?”

She let out a shaky breath and when she looked at you, you saw the tears. You felt a pang of guilt in your chest. Was that all you could give her? A true, warranted fear of Kaz ‘Dirtyhands’ Brekker and a flimsy promise of her safety. Her watery eyes served as a reminder that you had a responsibility to her and every person bearing the mark of your snakes. You had to keep them safe. Whatever war you wanted to wage against your father was yours. The want to ally with Kaz was also yours. They wouldn’t pay for your mistakes or your overzealous attempts at either.

You came around your desk and wrapped your arms around your lieutenant. She held onto you tightly, her fingers digging in as if you’d disappear if she let go. You felt her shuddering breaths shake her shoulders, heard her muffled cries against your shoulder. It all just made your promise more firm.

You refused to allow your snakes to suffer for you.

Later that night, you dawned your hood to meet with Kolya. Melli opted to stay behind and you didn’t press, especially when you noticed her hands still shaking. You offered whatever comfort you could before leaving.

He was already waiting when you got to the familiar building, a bag on his shoulders and a small trunk in his hands. He raised his free hand when he saw your figure and you felt the small increase of your pulse.

“Careful, Kolya.” You said, putting your hands up in surrender. “Your mother says that’s dangerous.”

“Da-“ He began but you shushed him quickly, your pulse settling to its usual pace. “The snake?”

You drew your hood back enough for him to see your face. He stared at you with wide eyes and you took a moment to take him in. Brown curls he had styled back, though one stubborn strand fell out on either side of his part. Dark brown eyes that reflected the moonlight. A tall, lean frame with broad shoulders. He was your age, maybe a year older.

That was a boy you could teach to fight. The idea gave you some hope.

“Come with me.” You said finally, turning to leave. He was quick to get to your side. “Tomorrow, you’ll meet with a potential teacher.”

“My mother told me you lead a small gang.” He said, less of an accent than his mother. You wondered if he had lost it or if he just had a better gift for language. “That you tend to get yourself hurt.”

“Both are true.”

“She also said you wish me a Heartrender.”

“A Healer is more than welcome. What do you wish for yourself?” You glanced at him, noting the sharp angle of his jaw. The lines around his mouth as he frowned.

“Somewhere I can do good.” He said finally, determination in his voice. “My mother told me of the Darkling, how he wanted to use Grisha to change Ravka so he could rule. I don’t want that.”

“Joining me means you’ll still fight, Kolya.” You admitted. “I intend to dismantle an empire and make amends with a boogeyman. I don’t intend to take over Kerch or Ketterdam. I don’t even want the Barrel, just to see the alleged King of the Barrel fall.”

“Are you not the princess, then?” He looked over at you carefully, as if worried he said the wrong thing.

“No.” You shook your head. “I was never intended for his throne.”

“So you’ll tear it down?”

“Brick by brick if I have to, but know that I will never ask any of my snakes to do something I wouldn’t be willing to do myself.”

You felt his hand take yours and you stiffened, but your steps didn’t falter.

“I can’t offer much, yet.” You confessed. “A warm bed, hot meals, safety while you sleep, and a means of your own money. It won’t be easy, nor will the money be substantial for now, but I intend to reward those that deserve it.”

“You needn’t convince me.” He said with a small chuckle and a squeeze to your hand. “My mother says you have a good heart, and I trust her judgment. I will fight beside you, heal your crew, train whatever you need. I know what this is. I am here to join your ranks, Snake.”

“And we’re grateful to have you… Tomorrow, we’ll create the contract. For now,” You took your hand from his when you reached the side door to your building. Melli was waiting on the other side, opening it when you knocked. “Melli will show you to your room.”

He nodded to you before Melli ushered him inside.

“He’s cute!” She mouthed with a grin and you nodded with a small smile.

You took a deep breath through your nose and glanced around. The streets were quiet, as it usually was around your building. But sometimes the quiet was eerie, as it was tonight.

The calm before the storm, maybe. Or it was just calm for once, pieces finally falling into place for you. Yet it made you wonder how things might fall apart next.

The next morning, you waited until after breakfast. Kolya seemed to get along easily with the rest of your snakes and that eased some of your worry. The boy was all smiles as he went around, introducing himself to seemingly everyone.

You called both him and Melli into your office when it was time.

“I suppose I should formally introduce myself.” You began, sitting in your chair. Melli stood beside you and Kolya sat across from you. “My name is Davina. This is Melli, my lieutenant. I am also known as the Hood, who met you last night.”

“I’m Kolya.” He nodded. “But I’d prefer Kol.”

You slid the paperwork towards him. “This is your contract with us. In it, it states the usual bits about loyalty and expectations. It explains how our payouts work, promotions, selection for jobs, incentives, etc. I have to recommend you read it on your own because I’m sure to forget something.”

Kol began to read the papers, his finger following along each line.

“We don’t recruit via buying out other deals, so it’s not a contract you earn your way out of.” Melli added. “There’s a renewal date, about 18 months from signing, so you won’t be paying a portion to the snakes.”

“How do you earn profit then?” Kol looked up for a moment before returning to reading.

“Everything we do, from our gambling hall to running jobs, comes into communal funds. Once a week, we payout the snakes and the rest stays in the coffers for whatever we need as a whole.” You explained. “Food, bills, supplies for jobs, business acquisitions.”

“And how do I go about one of those?” He pointed to the tattoo that was showing thanks to your sleeveless shirt, the snake beginning on your shoulder before creeping down and its head resting on your collarbone.

“Four weeks after signing.”

“Like a probationary period.” Melli nodded.

“Well.” He smiled. “I’m convinced. Davina, Melli, it’d be my honor.”

He signed the papers and you passed over his first payment. He took it with a thankful smile and practically skipped out of the room. You told him to ready himself to meet his potential teacher and that seemed to put even more pep in his step if possible.

“He seems nice.” Melli said once the door shut.

You were filing the paper away. “He does seem to be making friends quickly.” You agreed.

“Davina.” She practically sang and there was a teasing tone in her voice.

“Yes, Melli?” You looked up and saw the mischievous smile on her face. “All the Saints.” You sighed and rested a chin on your hand. “What’s that look for?”

“He’s very cute.”

“Is he?” You pretended you hadn’t noticed.

“And he’s nice. Loyal.”

“Seemingly loyal. We don’t know that for sure yet.”

“He signed on with barely any questions.” She deadpanned. “Don’t you see?”

“That we’ve found a great asset?” You shrugged.

Her eyes went wide and she threw her hands around in a frenzy. “No, Davina! Did you see the way he was looking at you?”

“Don’t start that.” You groaned.

“Maybe… If you get to know him…”

“Melli.” You warned.

“I’m just saying! It might help you get over-“

“Do not say it.” You cut in firmly. “There is nothing between Kaz and I.”

Your mind told you that was a blatant lie but you shoved the thought away, even if it were true.

“Then, please Davina, tell me why you’re so obsessed with that cursed alliance! You know he won’t go for it!”

“It’s more than an alliance.”

“Exactly. You’ve developed an infatuation and I don’t blame you. He’s very pretty but Davina, he’s horrid. You’ve heard what they say about him, the things he’s done.”

“Yes, and I’m daughter of the ‘King of the Barrel’. Who’s to say I’m much better than Brekker? Who’s to say my conscience hasn’t withered to something like his?”

“So you find kinship in him?” She scoffed.

“It doesn’t matter.”

“It does! Your endless fawning is going to get you killed.”

“Enough!” You snapped. “What I hope to gain with Kaz is my personal responsibility. I’ve said that and I will not require you or any of the snakes to partake in it. If I have to leave them in your care for that time being, I will, but I won’t have you pestering me to stop.”

“Pestering.” She repeated and her face fell. “I didn’t realize that’s how you saw me.”

“You don’t understand.” You sighed.

“But you won’t tell me?”

“I can’t… I can’t because the story isn’t only mine to tell.”

She left without another word and you felt the guilt settle in your stomach like a rock. You knew it wasn’t fair to keep that kind of secret from Melli. She was supposed to be your most trusted, yet you kept your biggest motivation a secret. You wondered what Kaz had told Inej or Jesper.

Did they know that he knew you? That you knew his brother? Saints, did they even know he had a brother? Too many questions with no means of an answer. You went back to your room and washed before dressing in something more fitting to wear in Nina’s presence.

You snapped your cloak at your throat, called on Kol, and left your building.

When you arrived at the White Rose, you were led almost immediately to Nina. It seemed coming on a fairly regular schedule had earned you more priority. You liked the feeling of importance as you were led to Nina’s room.

“I come with a gift.” You said as Kol shut the door behind him.

She gasped. “Waffles?”

“Ah, ‘fraid not.” You clicked your tongue, pulling your hood down, and she huffed in disappointment. “But you may be more interested in this, Nina Zenik.”

“I do prefer silks or jewels as my flattery.” She said in thought. She seemed to finally register Kol. “You brought a friend? I’m surprised you have any.”

“Oh hush.” You waved a hand. “I brought you a student.”

“He’s Grisha? Corporalki?”

You stepped aside and motioned for Kol to take over.

“Yes, Miss.” He nodded. “My name is Kol and I am Grisha, from the Little Palace. I am a Healer mainly, but my mother says I can Tailor well and have potential as a Heartrender, if I can find a true teacher.”

She stared at him for a moment before she smiled slightly. “I do vaguely remember you…” She turned to you. “You want me to teach him?”

“I’d appreciate it.” You nodded. “I know you have obligations to the Dregs, so I don’t ask this as a snake.”

“Have you joined her ranks?” Nina asked Kol.

“If she’ll have me.” He nodded.

“Why?”

He looked at you and you could see what Melli meant that morning. Big, soft eyes and a gentle, almost admiring smile. You returned the small smile and nodded in encouragement.

“It was my mother’s idea.” He confessed. “She has worked with her a time or two, and my mother has always been a good judge of character. Never quite trusted the Darkling or his ambitions, but enjoyed the perks of the Little Palace.”

“We all have our vices.” Nina shrugged.

“I enjoy helping people, but I also like a good fight.” His eyes seemed to shine at the prospect. “That’s part of why we left Ravka. Mother said I’d be of too much interest for the Darkling. So it seems the Hood and the snakes can give exactly what I’m looking for.”

“Hmm.” She thought, lounging on her velvet couch. “Oh, alright. You’ve wooed me with those glittering eyes of yours. I’ll teach him.”

You and Kol smiled at her.

“But-“ She pointed at you. “I expect waffles. Or candies. Better yet, both.”

“I will make a note for next time, but for now, I hope this will do.” You laughed and dropped the money on the table. “Thank you, Nina. And you know I have to ask…”

She waved a hand. “I don’t have to tell Brekker anything I don’t want to. Now, leave us.” She shooed you away.

“As you wish.” You pulled your hood up. “I’ll wait for you outside, Kol.”

“Thank you.” He nodded and the excitement shone in his eyes.

You went outside and took a deep breath. The bustling crowds moved around you, some bumping your shoulder. You saw street performers shouting and dancing, magicians and illusionists. You saw kids trying to pick pockets. Some succeeded, some were scolded.

For the first time in a long time, you felt successful.

You had a Healer. You had a teacher for your Healer to expand his talents. You had a new business.

Maybe you could do this. Maybe you did have a chance.

All you needed was to settle up with Kaz.

“Speak of the Devil.” You muttered as you saw the black clad menace making his way over, the crowd parting as he moved through. The tapping of his cane grew closer and you tried to flatten against the wall. You tilted your head down in hopes of him passing you by, but he stopped right in front of you. You cursed silently and lifted your eyes.

“Fancy meeting you here, Da-“ He began.

When you heard the first syllable of your name, you reacted. You gripped his jacket with one hand and clasped your hand over his mouth as you pulled him into the nearest alley.

[delulustateofmind]

Title: Between Worlds Part II (Azriel POV)

This is Azriel's point of view leading up until the morning. Let me know if you have any thoughts or if you want more!

Summary: Reader wakes up in ACOTAR a year after the war with Hybern. A bunch of events happen that leads to them waking up in a one night stand with Azriel 

Part One, Part Two, Part Three, Part Four, Part Five: Coming soon!

Trigger Warnings: Alcohol

Azriel's POV

Mor had dragged most of the Inner Circle to Rita's tonight. It was one of her favorite spots—a pleasure hall where judgment held no ground. Here, rank and gender were inconsequential. Despite my initial reluctance, Rhysand had practically coerced me to join, insisting it was "family bonding time." Cassian had tried to persuade Nesta to come along, but she had brushed him off.

We found ourselves at our usual table. While Mor and Cassian mingled with the crowd, I sat alone, nursing a beer, eavesdropping on conversations around me. Today, my shadows were unusually restless, tugging at me as if sensing an impending threat. Their whispers guided me toward a particular scent that seemed to beckon them.

The scent led me to a table where a group was concocting something they called a 'sake bomb.' One of the men, engrossed in flirting with a dark-haired woman, noticed me and shifted over. But it was the gaze of a beautiful woman that captured my attention, pulling at my heartstrings.

Accustomed to people trembling in my presence due to my position in the court, I was taken aback when she playfully told me to wait my turn, even though I hadn’t approached her. As her friend whispered something to her, her expression shifted from surprise to recognition. My shadows grew even more insistent, one even escaping my grasp to caress her wrist.

The woman looked at the shadow in wonder, then back at me. "Is this normal?" she asked, her voice tinged with amusement and curiosity.

Smiling softly, I replied, "Not for them to approach strangers, no." My shadows seemed inexplicably drawn to her.

As her friends left to dance with other men, I moved closer to her, intrigued. Leaning in, I whispered, "May I ask your name?"

"Y/n... you must be Azriel," she murmured, her voice angelic, captivating me instantly. A smirk played on my lips as I noticed her blush.

"What gave it away?" I teased.

"The shadows... I never expected them to be so... soft," she said, her eyes darting between me and the dancing shadows. I was surprised to find that she seemed more intrigued by my shadows than fearful.

"They've never behaved like this with anyone else. They seem to like you," I admitted, smiling as I watched my shadows swirl around her hands. In return she gave me the most beautiful drunken smile that I could have ever imagined. That's when I felt it.

As the bond between us snapped, I hid my shock behind a controlled expression. My shadows seemed even more eager to be near her. I couldn’t leave her, not after waiting five hundred years to find my mate. Wanting to draw the attention from my impending panic. I decided to change the topic.

"Shall we dance?" I asked, my heart pounding with nervous anticipation.

After some hesitation, she nodded. Guiding her to the dance floor, I reassured her, "Don’t worry, love, I'll guide you."

Despite her lack of dancing skills, I cherished every moment, lost in her mesmerizing eyes. Hours seemed to pass as we danced, oblivious to the world around us. When we returned to our table, her friends had left, and Cassian and Mor were beyond intoxicated.

"Shall we get out of here?" I whispered, making her blush even more.

"I live with my parents," she stammered, sheepishly.

"We can go to one of mine. I don’t think anyone's at our townhouse. I can winnow us there if you can handle it," I suggested.

After a moment of hesitation, she nodded. As we winnowed to the townhouse, I reassured her, promising her safety.

Once inside, I helped her to my bedroom. She stumbled like a fawn learning to walk for the first time. After fetching her some water and a change of clothes, I found her sprawled in bed, already half-asleep. As I turned to leave, she grabbed my hand.

"Please stay. Never in my wildest dreams did I think I'd meet you? I worry I'll wake up..." she murmured. What does that even mean? Did the bond already snap for her? Thank the mother above that I have some sort of self control, otherwise I would be asking questions.

After a moment of contemplation, I decided to stay. Wrapping my arms around her, I found comfort in her warmth, and for the first time in ages, I drifted into a peaceful sleep.

[yuseirra]

Ch 160 ..let me jot down my stream of consciousness about what I feel, my reading comprehension skills can't be that bad, it'd help if I can sit down and think through a little more.

+ Okay, I'm complete! I understand things much better now!! Upon close examination, This chapter doesn't change anything so dramatically.

IT STILL DOES NOT ANSWER JUST WHAT THE DAD'S MOTIVES ARE, but... the conclusion I have after having reread it thoroughly??

It's that my interpretation of him as a mild guy still stands—it enhances it, even. He's still really kind, which is a pretty surprising conclusion compared to what I felt about it at first glance.

He's.. really kind and considerate. I'm serious. wow.

well, analysis/interpretation below!

I was spoiled about chapter way back sometime last Friday, right? and it was pretty accurate in sense, with it being just some bunch of sentences and that one really creepy panel.. it does help to see the actual art and the expressions that are associated with the dialogues.

Now that I sit down a bit, there are two different interpretations of the same story: Kamiki's testimonies on what's happened (I believe these are all truths. They perfectly match up with how I've interpreted his character all along.) and Aqua's takes on them.

I'm not reading things off the english version btw, so the dialogues may differ.

According to what Kamiki says,

-he considered Ryosuke and Nino as good people and as friends. But they approached him because they were obsessed with Ai, so he didn't know about their true colors.

-so he was able to talk about his breakup with her and talked about whether if he should visit her having children at the hospital where Gorou was. They went and killed Gorou, but Kamiki had no idea about that.

-on the day Ai died, he was still unsure about meeting her because he lacked the courage to see her face (god he's timid) so he asked Ryosuke to give her his bouquet on his behalf

I KEPT SAYING THIS GUY NEVER HAS IT IN HIM TO "SCARE AI!!!!!!!!!" HE LIED IN 154 OUT OF GUILT BECAUSE HE THOUGHT AI AND AQUA WANTED REVENGE ON HIM!!! SEE!!! I'VE BEEN!!! RIGHT!!!! I'VE BEEN!!!!!!!!!!

This was already in the leaks last Fri, I basically felt the same way about these back then

and I got every part of these right except for the part that Kamiki befriended them. I just couldn't picture the people who killed Ai or would actively go hunt their daughter down being his friend..

but seeing how.. much he seems to trust people, he used to be that way as a child, it actually all ties so nicely together.

I predicted that it was Nino and Ryosuke who went to the hospital and killed Gorou.

I predicted that Kamiki just wanted to send the bouquet to congratulate Ai but he couldn't go because he was nervous/sad from the phone call. I said that ever since I started drawing hikaai fanarts, you would have seen me going on and on about that, I drew them with this as the base!!!! The guy Ai chose wouldn't do such a thing as trying to get back at her!!! See??

I couldn't be more right!!! I am a prophet!! I should trust myself!!!! why am I so unsure of myself, really. I really, really did get everything right.

These must be all true. He's not lying about any of this. I've been analyzing this guy very very thoroughly so I know what I'm talking about.

I guess what's confused me was the latter bits, since Fri and even after I see the full images.

Kamiki smiles and says he never wanted to hurt anyone<this is really how I view him as well, this guy can't hurt people out of his own will...

However, Aqua dismisses Kamiki's statements as lies on the spot, and accuses him of having been unable to protect his own daughter. That he's been intentionally manipulated people to get what he wants. That would involve him causing people to kill each other without dirtying his hands.

Upon hearing Aqua stating "You wanted to kill your own daughter", Kamiki makes this really eerie smile (I kind of wish this is redrawn hshsh.. it looks like he's a demon spawn from hell, but this could REALLY be him being distressed yet AGAIN. this guy SMILES when he's that way. That's his coping mechanism. It's kind of hard to stare at that expression but that smile certainly ISN'T a happy one like the one we saw in 159. This is a really confusing habit he has. People are going to take him the wrong way but; sadly, it's become a habit of his...)

The scenes then shifts to visions of him manipulating nino and Ryosuke into doing what they've done with a smile. If this is really what's happened, then he IS someone pretty evil-

but now that I read it over I think that's just based on Aqua's interpretations about the guy.

Is what's being portrayed in those pages ACTUALLY how he is? Just yesterday, I theorized that Kamiki loves his children and has been doing whatever he's been doing for his children. I did have my reasons for making that claim.

We still don't know what his motives are!! Aqua doesn't state anything about why Kamiki would do such a thing if he's done so. Does he know anything about this??? Just what reason would make it.. enough to have someone kill the love of their life and their very daughter? What good would it do for Kamiki? For one thing, does he have ANY good reason to kill Ai at all? For having felt betrayed?? Then why wait out that long????? Killing their daughter? After having her live for, how long now? how old are they now? 15?? 16? Why now? Why would he??

The important thing would be just WHY he'd be doing all those things if he's really been so, so WHAT IS IT AQUA?? WHAT??

Forgot to mention this but in the beginning of the chapter, we have kamiki saying, Hm, but what did I do? Did I "stab someone?" did I "push someone off a cliff?" I never "did" "anything".

Then we have Nino going "Kamiki-san didn't do anything. He just talked about Ai. He talked about her so we(her and Ryosuke) wouldn't forget about her. That was enough to make us break."

OH come on. COME ON. HUH. I feel like he's never told them anything bad about Ai, he probably let out how much he loved and misses her, because he thought they were her fan and coworkers as a fellow member, I bet he was happy to befriend people who knew about Ai because they share a common interest together. With it being his favorite person in the world even while he was dumped.

What a stupid reason, Nino. You brought everything upon yourself. I can see that now.

I do think.. kamiki has some sort of power that causes people to grow insane or act out, that could have had some influence on ryosuke and nino in a way...

but again, why would he try to kill his lover and his daughter even if he can use it with his own accord??? Even if he's using those powers now?? Would he use it to do those respective things?

Even if he has those, that shouldn't be all there is to it. According to Kamiki, they were already obsessed with Ai when they approached him and YEAH! Makes sense?? They came to him first, probably already aware that he was Ai's lover?? He isn't responsible for them hoarding those kinds of feelings!!

Coming to think of it, I find it really strange that he still hung with nino being the complete wreck she is. Oh wait, I guess he still could. Ryosuke killed Ai and Nino doesn't seem to have played a part with that. Nino was there with Ryosuke when Gorou died but she's not the one who's pushed him off a cliff. Ryosuke's the really...horrible one. He had a pretty gf like nino JUST WHY. Then again, nino was obsessed w Ai too so they were a match. I guess Kamiki hanged with Nino thinking she's just another victim who wants Ai back or whatever. He still hangs with her when she says that are super creepy like she can't forgive Ruby if she surpasses Ai though.. Perhaps he's really bad at letting people go.. OH, YEAH. He was always pretty attached to people as a child. Okay, I got that part cleared up on my own. Stream of consciousness is like this. It can happen.

Continuing on!! Aqua says Kamiki is a "despicable, selfish liar, worse than a murderer". Even Kamiki can't smile hearing that. If he ISN'T one, then that'd hurt.

Well, he responds again, saying:

"Ah, yes. You're the same way as I am. You share those same eyes I have. The type of eyes that grant the power to persuade others into believing you. The eyes that grant you charisma, befitting that of a star." Then we see a panel with Ai, "The eyes of liars, that fool, and make others submit to you"

he must be thinking of what Ai's told him when she talked to him about having the same eyes. (CH 140)

"You've been inciting people just like I have, right? Just how many people did you fool to fulfill your goal?"

"It must have felt good to use your talents to impact the lives of others, right?"

I'm not sure if this is a taunt/mockery or just him stating the facts as a liar/a black star user himself.

If he's thinking about Ai... then it can be the latter. She approached him saying "they are the same". He could be thinking about that.

Actually, he's strangely calm. His emotions are a bit hard to read on this one, I'd say it actually feels collected compared to what he's heard.

This could actually be sympathy or empathy...

I didn't take it that way when I first encountered it, so I felt.. Kamiki could be lashing out a bit but no. That doesn't seem to be it.

Hey, he really never gets angry. He actually looks a bit sad depending on how you look at it, I think he may be feeling a sense of guilt in that particular panel where he says "Just how many people did you fool to fulfill your goal?", the one where he glances down,

just like how he talked to Aqua in 152, "It's a lie, isn't it? it's because they're important that you keep your distance from them. why would you go that far to bottle yourself up?"

This guy understands his son really well. In fact, I think he may be trying to say, "we're the same=I understand the way you are, we're on the same track" the way Ai's done for him. That's what was his salvation.

Aqua does not take this well.

He says yeah, we're both terrible beings, but Ruby is "different".

Oh, and the rest.. what's stood out to me is the panel where Aqua goes,

"sending love to the one who desires for love" as he describes what Ruby is doing. Kamiki shows up in that panel.. This is what Ai wanted to do for him.

and there's a panel that comes up that shows Ai with the twins that follows right after saying:

"it's the eyes of the one who desires to love someone"

This is really sad. I think that page actually indicates Ai desired to love him while he desired to be loved from Ai. That happened both ways. It was a nice page.

Yeah, and Aqua points his knife to his dad like a toy gun saying

"You must disappear right here and now, for Ruby's sake."

I don't think Aqua's actually up to stabbing him, actually? If he's pointing the knife at him like that, I think it's more like he's warning him to stay out of their way forever, scram, or just go die off on his own.

Both of his eyes are white, he's not going to kill him with his own hands, rather, he's going to make him go away.

So I don't think next chapter would start on a fierce note? Kamiki does not seem like a guy that gets agitated so easily. He STILL never once got angry in this chapter as well. He's still pretty sweet to his son. I'm not being biased on this, the way he talks has always been really soft. If this were to be an anime, you'd hear how he'd talk and see whether if he has thorns in them but I don't think it's that way at least, I think he's trying to be understanding??

This guy is soft. He will not put up a fight. I don't know, he may jump off that bridge and try to die maybe. If that's what his son wants? Move out of the way? He doesn't seem.. angry about it all. He's not even protesting.

In the end, the only thing that got proven in this chapter was that Kamiki DID NOT DO ANYTHING IN A PHYSICAL SENSE, AND HE DIDN'T TRY TO SCARE AI.

the fact about him manipulating people and lying to get his way, I think there's low chance of it being applied for Ruby and Ai's case.

I think he really didn't have a clue Nino would attack Ruby? If he's considered her as a friend?

what are the basis of Aqua picturing him that way? He must really hate his dad. There is no way he could have seen such things happen. Unless Tsukuyomi told him about it?? there is no proof that it's what's actually been taken place. Kamiki could have incited people, or influenced others, yeah, but I don't think he did anything to Ai or his daughter. Again, I think he loves his family. Why wouldn't he??

Until things get cleared up more, I???? I ACTUALLY?? think Kamiki's taking it in a really calm manner despite all the things he's being accused of??

This is very long, but that is all for now!!

Oh, this was worth revisiting and analyzing. There's a lot more I see when I scrutinize it like this!!

[findmeinthefallair]

I hadn't spotted these a year ago:

Oh my god, guys???!!! Parallels:

2. These are the same face - the Depression Face.

It tugs at my heart like nothing else, because...

3. Oooh never paid attention to this:

4. These lil' guys were moving and animated while sleeping here, aww:

5. The screenshot below, to me, is foreshadowing that Hunter may have expressed his wish to study at Hexside...but once that wish is actually granted, he too is gonna be depressed - at school, specifically - for months, and frustrated that he simply cannot be enthusiastic about classes the way he initially hoped. He'll push and push himself and judge himself for why he "can't even" enjoy lessons he's supposed to be excited about:

6. Do you think they took Hunter to the zoo's bird hall, before he carved Waffles (I personally view it as a good element of exposure therapy)? :

7. People usually put the S1 screenshot of Luz drawing light glyphs, next to the one with Flapjack fading away...but I saw this too:

It makes me wanna chew extra recycled cardboard about Luz and Flapjack parallels, specifically. Because of what they both offered to the world, if you think about it:

8. If Camila went through an outfit change like this in her nightmare:

Imagine the mayhem of Hunter's many nightmares with his many outfits :S

9. A really good reference for how Hunter healed pre-timeskip, is this sequence, where the order has been altered a bit below:

(who knows, maybe Willow recorded a lot of vids of him on her scroll T___T)

10. Wow this sums up the show doesn't it:

11. Ugh you can't tell me that...they wouldn't have had a similar-ish mirror scene with Waffles and older Hunter to these, if we had a full S3 or more seasons:

Him approaching a mirror with no palisman beside him...I can't imagine how that was in those horrible months. (Maybe he does this before heading out to conduct a Palisman Adoption Day)

12. I feel really happy, confidently believing that he unlearned this body language:

in the presence of adults, especially his new parental figures. Coercive control wasn't a dominating theme in his life anymore. And while we didn't see it onscreen, he would've found the space to even initiate connection via physical touch with his parents, like what Luz naturally does here:

I say "physical touch" specifically, because to quote @idlescree's amazing video analyses, Hunter's own physical body - not just his mind - was the ultimate and most intimate battleground for Belos to exert control, by possessing Hunter and using him as a puppet in the most direct way possible. So for Hunter to get physically close to family to express love after Flapjack's death, in spite of terrible spooky thoughts that he might still gravely injure others...that isn't a small feat at all.

13. I think his casual sweater is a plain gold colour, and his cosplay outfit has its yellow colour: because he's still influenced by Belos.

The black of the wolf tee and in the cosplay, feel to me like foreshadowing of his post-possession grief. Even after Flapjack is gone, Hunter still thinks about Belos and is still walking around in the same cosplay outfit. His newfound freedom and healing is reflected in his timeskip design (calm midtones of orange and blue): when Belos has no more hold on him via a painful history. We would see a progression from the predominant darkness of the black colour to those peaceful midtones on his clothing.

14. Best one saved for last! It's a headcanon, but I draw a few connections. @childlikegoblinqueen and I were talking about him likely returning to the place where poor Flapjack was slain, even if it takes a number of years before he can do so. Waffles will be with him.

Imagine...instead of running frantically in the night:

he calmly strolls during a beautiful Halloween evening, with autumn leaves blowing in the wind once again:

There are no horrors awaiting him, and very importantly, he can believe that.

And he visits the spot at the lake, and puts his hand to his chest:

but for once, he can smile while doing that specific gesture. All the times that he has put a hand to his heart in the show, he wasn't smiling (link). He then leaves and then returns to his family (walking in the opposite direction of the portal above) to have an actually joyful Halloween celebration.

[lonleydweller]

🥀Yandere Self aware Nubbins (TCM game) hcs🥀

This wasn't a request.. but I thought of the idea and figured it'd be a fun write

Warnings: yandere trope, obsessive behavior, 4th wall break, self aware character, stalking

Yanderes are OK to enjoy in fiction. They should stay fiction. They are not examples of healthy relationships. These behaviors are NOT okay in real life. They are horrid. This is for entertainment purposes

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

● I'm assuming for this concept that you're more than likely someone who mains Nubbins when it comes to playing as family. Always choosing him if someone else hasn't already chosen him during a match!

● The greasy feral man was your favorite, he could easily maneuver through gaps and crawlspaces to pursue victims, moved swiftly, and had helpful little traps you could set around. Little did you know the favoritism would be reciprocated.

● I mean he must be your favorite right? You play as him every chance you get! You always seem to have so much fun playing as him! He knew he was the best! Otherwise why would you choose him over the rest? The idea of being someone's favorite, your favorite, the favorite of what is essentially an omnipotent being to him, makes him giddy.

● He loathes whenever you're away from the game, or when you're unable to play as him in the match because someone else is. He dosen't want these pigs controlling him! He wants you to! Just you. You play him the best!

● You may notice when you play as survivor that all the hitchhiker players you encounter seem to struggle killing you. Even high level players seem to stopping irregularly, missing hits, going the opposite direction of you even after spotting you, and randomly falling over even when no one's barged them. Perhaps it was a simple bug? Lag? Or maybe you were just getting that good at the game?

● If you're playing as a family member and someone else has taken up Nubbins, then the issues aren't as prevalent. However the character still shows irregular behavior. Doing certain animations like stomping his foot, being stunned, or swinging at nothing, even when they're not doing anything that would warrant the animation to be played. Almost as if Nubbins was having a fit, but that would be ridiculous right? It's just lines of code.

● You may notice slight, changes in your game, ones you could easily brush off as luck. Struggling to get a certain perk in the skill tree? What do ya know you got all of them! Nubbins seems slightly faster than normal? Maybe you're just tripping yourself out! Were you struggling to hit victims sometimes? You're getting a few extra hits in now!

● Do you like hearing him talk? Do you smile or laugh whenever he says a line? Do you make comments and talk back thinking you're just talking to nothing? He seems to babble even more as you run around and slash as victims. Especially the lines you seen to like the most.

● Slowly the lines might change. He starts saying the lines he'd say to other characters, like cook, Johnny, leatherface, ect. Even when they're not anywhere in sight. Particularly lines that used words like we, us, our. Maybe they were nearby and you just didn't notice?

● Now I feel it would take awhile for Nubbins to do anything drastic such as look at you through a camrea, connect to other devices, or dig through personal information and files on whatever device you play the game on. If he eventually does however, it will certainly further his obsession. Especially if he finds out you're a fan of the original tcm movie, if you have merch, drawings, or even met his actor, it kicks his obsession into overdrive.

● Many of the irregularities you may notice can just be passed off as bugs, errors, player fault, or luck. Nothing strange. Nothing to indicate that the lines of code were sentient. At somepoint however, the occurrences get to the point they can't be just be brushed off as a faulty game.

● He starts speaking new lines, one's you know aren't in the base game. One's that are too specific. Too direct. Praising you, your skill, what a great team you two make. Insulting other players. Commenting on your appearance, your home, your voice, things you've been recently doing. Then the console won't turn off. The game keeps opening even after you close it. You get loaded into rounds where there's no other players.

● Your best bet at this point is to throw out your whole console. Any tcm media too. Hoping he hasn't infected other devices, hoping he hasn't leaked into the real world. Could he? If he could do this what would stop him from going farther? Who says he can't come out from the movie itself? His original source? You'd never be able to know until it's too late.

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

[horrorjunki3]

Texas chainsaw massacre slashers with m!reader

Warnings: Canon typical violence, mention of insecurities, sexual content if you squint, Discussion of PTSD and Mental illness for choptop and nubbins and unsafe driving

The reader is meant to be interpreted as a men -> trans inclusive ♡

Thomas Hewitt

♡ I feel like Thomas would like a sweet/kind partner -> he has alot of insecurities and you being kind would go ALONG way.

♡ I personally Headcannon that if Tommy was Queer Lunda May knows and picks up on your attraction to Thomas -> how you react to him is what would save your life! She just wants her boy to be happy after all

♡ His first thought when he sees you was that you were just so handsome and when you smile at him he gets all flustered! -> If you compliment his mask, eyes or hair during this time he will kind off shut down till Lunda May steps in to help!! Matchmaker she is!

♡ He'd think your perfect -> nothing could make this man change his mind - Regardless of your insecurities he'd love every part of you

♡ I think he'd love to see you and his momma getting along! Sometimes when he sees how sweet it is he can't help but pull you away and smother you

♡ His a very physically affectionate person -> However at the beginning of the relationship he is very shy and clumsy about it. Once he gets more comfy with you tho his constantly touching you in very wholesome and affectionate ways like holding your hand or a peck on the cheek -> he was raised to be a gentlemen after all

♡ I feel like Tommy's ideal date is cuddling outside of a night time, just basking in his boyfriends love

♡ when Tommy first asks you out he gives you a letter telling you everything he loves -> although he can't speak it doesn't stop him from expressing his love for you through words of affirmation

Choptop/ Robert Sawyer

♡ I feel like Chop would like a guy who has a unique fashion sense or shares his love for music

♡ He loves passionate people -> if you generally love something with all your heart he just listens to you and smiles

♡ I strongly headcannons that he'd let you live if you're a fan of his band Cornbugs.

-> Imagine recognising his voice and stuttering out that you know him -> name a song you like and he will be so smug and flustered

♡ He'd call you pet names like "Big boy, Big daddy, pretty boy, or babe"

♡ Loves when you call him handsome -> after his plate he didn't think anyone would see him as handsome or love him again -> kiss his plate he will melt

♡ He'd love driving Speeding at night and listening to music -> alternatively he will slow down if it scares you

♡ He'd love if you shared your taste for music with him -> makes him feel like he can understand you better

♡ will write love songs for you and sing them -> sings about how perfect you look when discussing your passions

♡ His extermly affectionate! And will grope you at any moment! Your his man and he finds you so perfect he can't help it.

♡ He'd have nightmares and PTSD flash backs -> will come to you for help because you make him feel safe

♡ Please act like a groupie for him -> he doesn't care if it's real or not he'll melt and kiss you like his starving everytime you do

Cornbugs song reccomendations: spot the psycho, pigs are people too, cornbugs and anything from the album "celebrity pyscho"

Nubbins Sawyer

♡ This sweet sweet boy!!

♡ You pick him up hitch-hiking but alternatively to other people you ask questions, listen and care about what his saying. When he takes a photo of you -> you most likely pay him and ask for one of you guys together bc how could you not? His so cute!

♡ He'd take photos of you constantly -> occasionally he'd let you take photos of him. I headcannon that there's this one beautiful photo of him sorting through photos with a smile and it's so cute. (A/N: I've gotta draw that omfg!)

♡ Tells everyone about you -> asks victims if they think his boyfriend handsome - lord help them if they say no

♡ He calls you "Darlin' , Sweetheart and handsome" -> call him pretty boy he loves it!

♡ His ideal date would be having you in his bed while he takes photos of you -> this isn't necessarily sexual he just thinks your perfect and wants to capture it

♡ He loves showering with you and getting spoiled! His so touch starved and loves to be cuddling you, sitting on your lap or anything he just loves it!!

♡ It's cannon that he has Schizophrenia and there will be days that are harder for him -> please be there for him during these times.

♡ He will tease and mock you but it's done lovingly -> doesn't like it when anyone else does it

Bubba sawyer

♡ Much like Tommy Bubba needs a gentle and kind partner! Please tell him his pretty! Tell them they're good!

♡ I headcannon that Bubbas gender queer and uses he/they pronouns!! Please love and support them! Tell him, he looks pretty when they do their make up!

♡ If your sweet and kind to them -> they'll wanna save you like with stretch! Compliment him and call him how pretty he is and he will choose you over the saw!

♡ Bubbas extermly loyal once you become his family he -> he will do anything for you!

♡ They will carry you - even if you think they can't they'Il make an exaggerated noise and just lift ya! They are sooo strong

♡ Gift giving is there love language and they'll make you little brackets and stuff

♡ His a giant teddy bear and loves cuddles and kisses!!!

♡ They will melt if he sees you Helping them family regardless of if it's to do with meat or cleaning! They love their family and seeing you love them? It's the best sight ever

♡ Bubba wants kids! So he'll definitely want to adopt some lil Bubbas or have some animal babies -> they love cats but are never allowed to keep them:( Maybe if you both beg his brothers you can keep them!!

[choicesficwriterscreations]

April Creator of the Month: Aallotarenunelma

Each month, CFWC highlights one of our talented fanfic writers or artists, and this month’s creator of the month is the lovely @aallotarenunelma! The writer is selected at random. More info can be found on the navigation page. Past COTM's can be found here.

Quick Links:

Tumblr Blog My Masterlist

How do you want to be known on Tumblr? 

Aallotar is fine. I am agender. My pronouns are they/them.

More below...

1- When did you start playing Choices? What was the first book you played? 

I saw the app being highlighted a lot in Google Play in 2017, but it was only at the end of February-beginning of March 2018 that I downloaded it. It was when Perfect Match 1 started releasing and shortly before Bloodbound 1 began releasing. Time is flying!

There were already a lot of books, and it was a bit overwhelming. I chose the series that was being heavily advertised: The Royal Romance.

2- When and why did you join Choices fandom?

I joined the Choices sub-Reddit in July 2019, then the Tumblr fandom in April 2020.

I first joined the sub because I wanted to discuss the books and the characters, and hopefully befriending other players. It was lonely to read the books, and having no one to share my opinions and theories with. Then, I took a step back from it and after lurking a bit, I joined the Tumblr community. 

3- How did you pick your blog name? 

When I joined Tumblr, in April 2020, it was initially to be a Writblr. I was writing a story about a heroine named Aallotar. Its title gave my blog’s URL. My blog’s title is its English translation: Aallotar’s dream.

In the end, my blog turned into a bit of everything.

4- Pull up the first post in your archive, and tell us about it!  

This is my very first post. This is my original writing, conveniently mentioned right above. :)

5- Do you write fanfiction, create fan art, or are you one of those really gifted people who do both? 

I define myself as an artist because I create. This is how I express myself. It doesn’t matter if the pencil I use is to write or to draw as long as I create. Before I started learning how to draw, I was always saying that I was drawing with words. To me, this is what writing is. I draw and paint with my words to depict stories that my characters want me to tell.

I mostly write, but I also create fan art, such as sketches and various kinds of edits: quotes, sprites, moodboards, etc. 

6- How long have you been creating for Choices and for any other fandoms?

For the defunct app Lovestruck, from December 2020 to October 2021.

For Choices, since April-May 2020. 

7- What is your favorite Choices book, and what is your favorite Choices book to create for?

My all-time favourite Choices book is Veil of Secrets. I adore it!

I heavily create for the It Lives Anthology - the three books - and also for Immortal Desires. I love these books so much that I made a crossover, and most of the characters from the Anthology and from ID have met and even befriended each other.

8- Share your first Choices fanfic or fan art that you posted with us. Do you still like it, or would you change it if you were creating it today?

My first Choices fiction is a Blades one: Of Stardust and Light.

I still love it and I wouldn’t change anything - except the typos and the clumsy grammar/syntax, due to the fact I am not an English-native speaker.

For a long time, I thought it was my masterpiece, that I wouldn’t write something as good or even as better than this. But I proved myself wrong in the end.

The other reason why I wouldn’t rewrite it now is because I have definitively stopped writing for my Blades pairing, Tyril x Soile. I made it official a few months ago, and this decision is final.

9- What is your favorite piece of fiction or art that you created? 

It’s really hard to choose only one, but I do have a soft spot for Répondez, S’il Vous Plaît ! #3 because this is where I tell about my OCs’ Ash and Skylar’s meeting. It was a story I wanted to write for a long time and I love it.

Chronicles of a Crimson Summer deserves to be mentioned as well. This is the longest story I have shared here, and it’s a real balance of angst, fluff, and funny moments. Also, because its birth was extremely painful, so for all of these reasons, I am glad I wrote it and shared it.

10- Do you have a fic/art that you didn’t expect to be well received, but it was? What about one you expected to do well but found it could use a little more love?

I never expect anything I share to be well received, whether it’s a fiction or a drawing. I’m only sharing it, hoping that at least someone will find it and enjoy it. Even better if it helps the person in any way.

That said, sharing my art remains a lot more difficult than sharing my writing, so any art reblog is leaving me a bit confused, due to my imposter syndrome.

Most people here who are familiar with my stories have read some of the funny stories I have shared, as well as the fluffiest stories I have ever written - sometimes too fluffy for me. 

However, this isn’t only what my writing is about. Darker Than Night has generated so much indifference that it saddens me.

This series really shows what my writing is, minus the layer of humour that you can usually expect. It truly deserves better, just like In Joy and Sorrow, that actually gives a good idea of what my writing really is.

11- (WRITERS) If you could write only angst, fluff, or smut for the rest of your writing life, which would it be and why? 

I usually share a lot of fluff here, because the world outside is hard, so I want to uplift people with sweet and funny stories. However, my original writing is usually angsty with some funny and fluffy moments to alleviate all the angst a little. So, I’m choosing angst. Definitely. To me, writing angst is comforting.

11a - (ARTISTS) If you could only draw one style or type of art for the rest of your life, what would it be and why? 

I could easily do oil pastels for the rest of my life. It’s an easy technique to learn, it’s very forgiving, it’s calming, and I love how it looks.

12 - Do you ever recognize yourself in any of your MCs or in your writing?

I am agender and aspec, so in any non-binary and/or aspec MC / OC of mine can be found parts of me, regardless of how they define themselves on those large spectrums. Representation is highly important to me, so this is one of the recurring themes in my writing.

Also, the witty/sarcastic and playful characters are easy to write because I know them too well!

13 - What element of writing/art do you struggle with most?

Finding the right word is difficult, either in English or in my native tongue. I always want to capture the emotion, the feeling, the landscape with the perfect word. I’m still learning in my daily life.

Regarding my art, at the level I am right now, that would be shadows. Sometimes, they look great, but they often don’t. Practice makes perfect, so this is what I do whenever I can.

14 - Do you have any neglected work you really want to finish?

I tend to have only one WIP that I see to end. One reason for this is that I usually write my stories in a notebook, before I type them down to share them. The state of the notebook is not always great; I even sometimes struggle to re-read what I corrected!

If it’s about my original work, then, yes, I want to finish that one novel’s second draft.

15 - If someone you know in real life (who isn’t involved in fandoms) asked to see your work, would you let them? If yes, what would you show them first? 

It has actually happened with one of my siblings. At that time, I was only writing for Blades and had maybe like five stories posted. I let my sibling read them because we are close. For other people, I think it would be on a case-by-case basis, but most likely not. I'd rather make them read my original writing, if my shyness isn’t getting in the way.

16 - Are there any writers (published authors and/or fanfic writers) who influenced your writing or art? Are there any artists that influence you?

Émile Zola and Arto Paasilinna are my all-time favourite writers.

I am learning from every fanfiction writer I am reading. First, because I read in a foreign language. Second, because I believe you learn from everyone every day.

In terms of art, I don’t think I have a particular influence. I am still exploring my style.

17- (WRITERS)  Which one of your stories would you most like to see as a movie/series? 

It would be In Joy and Sorrow. I created this It Lives in the Woods AU series to give a life to my first MC, Riikka. The one she couldn’t have. In this series, I talk about close friendships, coming outs, being bilingual/bicultural, how to navigate a romantic relationship as an aspec*, how to deal with bullying/harassment, etc. I talk about timeline collapse and time-travelling as well.

And because there’s the most delightful OC ever, my all-time favourite: Ash. He truly is one of a kind and his friendship with Dan is really something special.

*aspec: a person on the aromantic and asexual spectrums.

18 - (ARTISTS) Which one of your creations would you like to see a fiction written about? 

I don’t have any yet that would justify the honor of having a fiction being written about.

19- Do you write original fiction or create non-fandom art? 

I started writing when I was 10 years old. It was thanks to an assignment for my native tongue class when we were studying the structure of a fairytale. I really enjoyed writing one, so I kept writing over the summer. Little stories about everything and nothing.

I wrote my first novel when I was 13, but never dared to send it to a publisher. I kept writing novels - and not sending them, I have a nice collection, now! - and branching out in other forms of writing, in hope to develop as a writer: rpg forums, poetry, (fan)fictions, creative writing course, etc. I took a ten year break from writing (fan)fictions before returning to them.

I am working on the second draft of a novel about grief, and I have three other different novels already outlined.

Regarding art, I mostly create non-fandom art.

20-  What other hobbies do you have?

Except writing and drawing; I paint murals and do oil pastel; I do theatre; I design and crochet my own clothes.

I enjoy watching old films, Hollywood era and silent ones included, but modern films as well, if they are excellent.

I love learning foreign languages, listening to music and going to gigs.

I am also a true race car enthusiast, preferably Formula races - F1 to F4, Formula Regional included.

I also enjoy going for walks in nature and travelling.

21: Tell us anything you’d like (if you want to).

I want to thank CFWC for highlighting me, and giving me the chance to talk more about my characters, my stories, my writing and my art. This means a lot, especially as this month is also when I’m celebrating my 4 year Tumblr Anniversary.

Thank you for your support throughout these years!

I want to thank so many people, but I’m also scared to miss any of them!

Thank you to my friends, old and new. 💛

Thank you to everyone who has read and reblogged my stories and left kudos and comments on them. It has been helping me so much in believing in myself and my writing.

Thank you to everyone who has reblogged my art and my edits and left comments on them.

Thank you to every talented person who has gifted me a piece of their beautiful art, written or not, anonymously or not.

Thank you to everyone who has asked about my characters and my stories.

Thank you to everyone who has sent me positive and uplifting messages.

Lastly, thank you to every single person who has supported me these past months, in many different ways. Your kindness and your presence have made a difference, and I am grateful for those and for you all.

And a special shoutout to my fellow rainbow creators! 🌈

[cherepizza]

Sorry for being inactive I barely have spare time. It's been nearly two months, woah!! It still feels like march started yesterday

There's a variety of different religious beliefs in beacons' world. One of the world's largest and most widespread religion has 8 major deities who are shown with quite similar appearances. The easiest way to identify a god in their standard form is to to look at their body color. A deity may be accompanied by symbolic plants/animals and objects, especially if the image is colorless. Text also might be present. Some gods have alternative forms which can be more popular in iconography than their standard ones.

It's disrespectful to show gods from the back side of the body, except for one.

1. Goddess of knowledge, medicine (especially the part dealing with childbirth) and law. All 8 sides of her body are "front" sides with two hands and two antennae. Always depicted with light-blue skin.

2. God of creativity and passion, whose all sides are backs. Has bright red skin. In the past this god used to have darker spots all over his body, but gave them away to a mortal who ended up having too many offspring, passing the spots to all of his male descendants. Antennae are not shown (you don't draw dicks on sacred images).

3. Goddess of plants and harvest. Besides her plant-growing abilities she's also known for creating and spreading diseases. Has light-coloured skin with a yellow or ochre tint.

4. Goddess of beasts. Created all living organisms and is able to control them. Beacons are resistant to the full mind control but susceptible to her power of inflicting dread and anxiety. Associated with willpower. Her standard form is a brown-coloured beacon but more often she's shown as a spiky snake-like creature. In this form she can change size and grow so large she'd shadow the sun or become smaller than any bug to crawl under the clothes of those who she deemes unworthy of her presence and sting them. Stings are excruciatingly painful.

5. Goddess of rain, rivers and the sea. Shares ruling over the last domain with her brothers. Though her powers are inextricably tied with sustaining life, she has no direct control over living beings. Typically shown with dark blue skin.

6. God of wind. Controls wind (..who would have thought) and serves as a protector of travellers. Talkative and upbeat, he cheers them up, gives advice and tells entertaining stories, helping them continue their journeys. Has orange-coloured skin.

7. God of deep water. Hides below the surface and rarely shows himself, though in his early years used to live among mortals and taught them sailing along with his sister and brother. His long antennae can easily wrap around victim's legs and drag the unlucky one to the bottom to either kill or imprison and force to work on him. Can control underwater beasts but only to a small extent. Associated with quiet death.

8. God of change. The all-present spirit is inert and cannot change on its own. This god makes sure night would change into day, hunger would come after nourishment, and every living thing would eventually meet their death. He's quite a lonesome god and under normal circumstances rarely interacts with mortals or other entities. Has exceptional persuasion skills. Several myths support the idea of him creating the moon and stars which partly explains why he's described having white skin. The other part comes from that no mortal has ever seen his true form, so no other colour can represent his ever-changing appearance except pure white.

–––––

Important to note that for beacons relationships between siblings play a much greater role than those between parents. So instead of being paired up with a husband/wife higher gods belong to their own sibling groups which go as follows:

Goddess of knowledge – god of passion

Goddess of plants – goddess of beasts

Goddess of rain – god of wind – god of deep water

God of change (only child oh)

In older times gods were treated as separate entities connected only by blood but in recent decades there's been a shift to a more monotheistic view of world. Since gods come from the same source (force/spirit/power) it was believed that they sort of popped up in the world that already existed before them and were left to fool around and figure out what to do by themselves. They weren't a part of the spirit anymore and the only connection remaining was the ninth eye in the middle of the head that could actually see (for mortals it's basically blind, so they were believed not to be bound with the source at all). Some followers suggest that deities and, in fact, the whole world were never separated from it. When the force splitted itself into "sides", giving gods physical bodies, it manifested into other living beings as well, allowing itself to have as many perspectives of the existing world as possible. When a living thing dies, their side turns away to a new life. Gods' powers are not separate, but a spectrum, manifestations of the same thing. The number of turns is considered to be unimaginably big, but finite. It's up for debate what will happen when the force will be out of turns.

[munson-blurbs]

Hi there Bug! May I request one where Eddie and FemReader are in a committed relationship and Eddie’s breeding kink has been full on big time in overdrive because he really wants a kid and the more sex the better! Plus it’s around the holidays and they keep looking at baby stuff and Santa stuff etc which for some reason is making it worse But femreader finds out she can’t have any kids for whatever reason and is convinced Eddie will leave her because of it so heartbreakingly she tells him what’s going on and tells him if he wants to go and be with someone who can give him kids she would understand? Not being able to have kids myself and giving away little things I had gotten for the someday that never will come made me think of this one. (And No, I am not sad anymore about it- it just lets me help care for the little lost sheepies who don’t have anyone really. ) Thank you 💖

I hope I did your request justice. Thank you, from a little lost sheepie, for looking out for us 💚

Warnings: smut (18+ only, minors DNI), breeding kink, infertility, mentions of abortion, angst, hurt/comfort

WC: 3.1k

Dividers from @firefly-graphics

The First Christmas 

The Starcourt Mall around Christmas time was always a nightmare, packed wall-to-wall with busy, irritated shoppers. You were one of them; your husband was too busy pointing out every item he wanted to notice your misery. 

“Babe, check out that leather jacket!”

“That notebook with the dragon on the front would be perfect for writing lyrics.”

“Holy shit! A collector’s edition of the new Metallica album!”

After years of dating and a few more being married, you’ve gotten pretty good at ignoring him when you need to. But when he drags you towards his next find, you can’t help but pay attention. 

“Maybe we could get this?” It’s a thick, hardbound book of lullabies and bedtime stories. Drawings of barnyard animals adorn the cover. Eddie runs his forefinger over it gently, caressing it while deep in thought.

“Don’t you think it’s a little below your reading level?” you tease, threading your fingers through his free ones. 

Eddie gives you a wanting look, deep brown eyes meeting yours. His expression is completely sincere. “I want a baby,” he states plainly, as though he’s simply asking for a bag of potato chips at the grocery store.

“Okay, Eds,” you snort, rolling your eyes. “Maybe Santa will leave one under the tree for you this year.”

“I’m serious.”

You sigh, tucking his hair behind his ear. “Can we have this discussion, like, not in the middle of the mall?” you whisper.

“Is that a ‘yes’?” he asks, unable to disguise the excitement in his voice. A hopeful grin stretches across his face.

“It’s a ‘maybe,’” you tell him, but there’s already a buzzing feeling in your stomach. You’ve been waiting for him to bring up the subject of kids. Of the two of you, he had been the most resistant to parenthood. It wasn’t an issue of liking or disliking children; Eddie had plenty of experience being a babysitter (well, co-babysitter with Steve Harrington) to his gaggle of misfits during his high school years. The problem was Eddie’s confidence in himself to be a good parent. No matter how many times you reassured him that he wouldn’t be like his own dad, or that your kid would absolutely adore him, he’d remained hesitant.

But now here he is, in a Borders bookstore, damn near begging you for a baby.

Eddie refrains from talking about it for the remainder of your shopping trip, save for when you passed by Santa’s Workshop. He’d taken one look at the kids running around joyfully and murmured, “that could be us with Baby Munson next year.”

The moment you close the car door, Eddie looks at you, beaming. “So,” he starts, rubbing your thigh, “can we talk now?”

“Since when are you ready for a baby?” you question, glancing over your shoulder as you pull out from the parking spot. “I’m not complaining, but I don’t wanna get my hopes up just for you to change your mind.”

Your husband pauses before he speaks; you know from experience that this is a rare occurrence. “This might sound dumb,” he chews on a fingernail while he speaks, “but when I saw that book, I could just picture reading it to a little baby. Our little baby,” he amends. “And I’m still scared, but I–I think I can do this. With you. Feel like I can do anything with you, sweetheart.”

“So, when do you want to start trying?” you ask coyly, though you have an idea of how he will respond.

“As soon as we get home,” he affirms, and you laugh at his intensity and at your correct prediction. “If it wouldn’t cause a wreck, I’d start right fuckin’ now.”

You grip his left hand with your right. “We’re really gonna do this?” 

He squeezes your hand back, and there’s a slight tremble to it. “Let’s start our little metal family.”

As soon as you get through the door of your apartment, Eddie is weaving his hands through your hair and kisses you deeply. 

“Eds, the presents,” you manage, but he just drops them by the couch before picking you up and carrying you to the bedroom. 

“Don’t care about ‘em,” he mutters, plopping you on the bed with a gentle thump. “Just need you.” His tongue parts your lips as he climbs on top of you, knee nudging against your sex through your jeans. “You have no fuckin’ idea how badly I need you.” 

You trace your fingers over the obvious bulge straining against his zipper. “I think I have a clue,” you murmur, giggling when he moans at your touch. “Sensitive, are we?”

“Sweetheart,” Eddie says, pulling your shirt over your head and unclasping your bra, “you just gave me permission to give you a baby. What did you expect?”

You press your lips to his exposed collarbone before undressing him. “Want your baby, Eddie,” you whisper into his skin. Your fingers toy with his belt buckle and pants button until they’re both undone. 

His strong hands slide beneath your panties; you can feel him grin as he glides his fingers along your folds. “Y’got this wet thinkin’ about me filling you up?” he teases, and you can only nod your response. “Ready for me to cum in you over and over until you’re pregnant with my baby?”

“P-Please,” you stammer, and in an instant, you’re taking him in. His thick cock stretches you in a familiar way. You hiss at the pressure, his thrusts speeding up as he lets himself get deeper inside you. 

“You’re s’fuckin’ gorgeous, babe,” Eddie muses. “Can’t wait to see how beautiful you look, all round ‘cause you’re having my kid.” He gives you an incredulous look. “I just remembered—your tits are gonna get huge, fuck.” As if to emphasize his point, he sucks a bruise just below your left nipple. 

You whimper as he grows even harder, tip rutting against your g-spot and pushing you towards your own release. “Gonna cum,” you choke out. You clench around him as you finish, crying out his name while digging your nails into his back. 

“Good girl,” he praises you, which only turns you on more. “I c-can’t hold out; y’feel too good.” He spills into you with a groan, using his softening length to push everything in. “Gotta make sure it takes, y’know?” He kisses your cheek as you both come down from the high. 

“If it doesn’t, we just get to keep trying,” you smile, catching your breath. At the time, it doesn’t seem like a bad thing. 

The Second Christmas

You didn’t get pregnant that first month. Unsurprising; it rarely happened that quickly. You were disappointed when your period came, but you and Eddie had no problem having copious amounts of sex. 

But after ten months without success, you decided to consult a doctor. “Maybe there’s, like, medicine I can take to help,” you’d told Eddie before you left. Still, a bad feeling gnawed at your insides as you’d said it; a feeling that was only confirmed by the doctor’s news. 

“I’m sorry, Mrs. Munson,” she’d said. “It looks like you don’t have any viable eggs.” 

She’d droned on about genetic issues, but your head was swimming. It all boiled down to one outcome: infertility. Not giving Eddie the baby he wanted so badly. Not becoming a mom. 

You’d practically collapsed into his arms when you came home, apologizing profusely without offering context. 

“Baby, baby, what happened?” His own eyes filled with tears, as they often did when you’d cry. “What did the doctor say?”

After slowing your sobs, you’d repeated what you’d been told. “‘M so sorry,” you choked out. “I understand if you don’t wanna be with me…if you wanna be with someone who can get pregnant.”

Eddie’s eyes widened. “Absolutely not,” he shook his head, pulling you to his chest for a tight hug. “No, baby. ‘S only you. We can…we’ll figure something out.” A tear slipped down his cheek, though he’d tried to wipe it away before you noticed. “Maybe we were meant to look out for our little sheep, rather than have ones of our own.” But he didn’t believe it, not really. 

And now it’s Christmas again. You pulled on a red sweater dress and ran a comb through your hair. The platter of cookies you’d made yesterday was wrapped and ready to bring to Nancy and Jonathan’s house. 

“Eds? Good to go?” you call out, frowning when you don’t get a response. “Hello?” You pad out into the living room, finding him standing in front of your bookcase, looking forlornly at the book of nursery rhymes he’d bought this time last year. 

“Sorry,” he clears his throat and blinks his red-rimmed eyes. “I was kinda hopin’ for a Christmas miracle.”

“Me, too,” you admit, wrapping your arms around him. You could stay like this forever, safe in his grasp. 

“Y’gonna be okay today?” Eddie asks, offering a weak smile. “With, y’know…”

You knew. It has been on your mind every day since Thanksgiving. All of Eddie’s little sheep, now in their senior year of college, were back in Hawkins for the holiday. Everyone was chattering about career plans and graduation vacations. Well, everyone except for Max. 

“You all right?” you’d asked her, concern written all over your face. 

She’d quickly dragged you into the other room, away from everyone else. “Please don’t be mad at me,” she’d begged. 

“Max, you’re like my little sister. Even if I got mad at you, I can’t stay mad at you for long.” You gave her a smile, but it faltered at her words. 

“I’m pregnant,” Max blurted out. “I-I hooked up with someone when I first got back to school because I was really upset about breaking up with Lucas, and I was stupid and—and now I’m pregnant. And I was afraid to tell you because I know you…” she trailed off, not needing to finish her sentence. “I understand if you hate me.”

You were stunned into silence. “I don’t hate you,” you whispered. She barreled into you for a hug as you asked, “do you know what you wanna do?”

Max looked up at you with misted eyes. “I waited too long for an abortion,” she explained sheepishly. “Guess I was kinda in denial.”

You’d nodded, knowing all too well how easily it was to ignore the obvious. “Whatever choice you make, I know it’ll be the right one.”

That night, you’d curled up into Eddie’s chest and cried. Cried for Max, facing a daunting decision. Cried for you, trying so hard to have a baby with no success. Cried for the situation, that some people could get exactly what other people want, even when they don’t want it themselves. 

You knew you’d be seeing Max again on Christmas, and now that day has arrived. It would be hard to look at her little bump, but she needed you now more than ever. You could suck it up for a few hours. 

“How’re you feeling?” you ask her, attempting a genuine smile. 

“Better now that I’m in the second trimester,” she started. “Not as nauseous.”

You swallow a lump in your throat. You’d risk nausea every day for the rest of your life if it meant having a baby, but you push on. “I’m glad to hear it.”

“Can I…can I talk to you and Eddie for a sec?” Her eyes flit between the two of you. “It’s important.”

You wave Eddie over, who’s listening to Steve ramble about a new car he’s thinking of buying. He nods at you gratefully. “What’s up?”

“Max has something to tell us,” you say, and his face blanches. Sometimes you forget how your infertility also impacts him; seeing Max pregnant wasn’t easy for Eddie, either. 

“Sh-sure, yeah,” he mumbles, and the three of you duck into the guest bedroom. 

“I’ve been thinking. A lot.” Max fidgets, tugging on a strand of her red hair. “And I realized that, as much as I already love this baby, I’m not ready to be a parent.” She takes a deep breath and blinks back tears. “But you two are.”

You sit forward. “Max, what are you saying?”

“I’m saying—well, asking, really—if you would maybe think about adopting it.” She finally allows her eyes to meet yours. 

“Oh my God,” you manage, grabbing her hand. “Are you serious?”

She nods. “I want to be a forensic psychologist. Help solve crimes and keep people safe. But I know I can’t do that if I have a baby. At least, not right now,” she adds. “But I was really anxious about placing him or her for adoption with random strangers. Maybe it sounds silly, because I wouldn’t be the one raising the kid, but I couldn’t stop worrying about it.

“And then after I talked to you on Thanksgiving, I felt a little better. I didn’t have an answer yet, but just…just talking to you made me feel better. And I realized that whenever life got tough for me, I turned to you guys.” She gives you and Eddie a small smile. “And it was, like, why didn’t I think of this before? You’d be the best parents. You’ve already had plenty of practice with all of us.”

Eddie looks at you, slack-jawed. “You would do that for us?” he asks Max. “You really want us to adopt the baby?”

“Absolutely,” she confirms. “I know we have to get lawyers and all that stuff—”

“We’d cover that,” you jump in. “And we can help with doctor’s appointments, too.”

Max pulls you both in for a hug. “I’m still scared,” she admits, “but this makes it a little less scary.” 

It’ll be a long road ahead, you know this for sure, but the three of you take a collective sigh of relief. Maybe you and Eddie have gotten your Christmas miracle after all. 

The Third Christmas

“Nance, where do you want the green beans?” you call over your shoulder as you pull the casserole from the oven. 

“You can put them on the table; should be space for them,” she answers, thinly slicing the ham. “I’m almost done with this, and we can sit down to eat.”

Gripping the dish with the oven mitts, you walk into the dining room and place it down. “Dinner’ll be ready soon!” you tell the other guests. 

Hopper flashes you a thumbs-up. “El was just initiating Katie into the adopted daughter’s club,” he murmurs to you. “I heard her saying that they’re both extra special because they were specifically chosen by their parents.”

“She’s not wrong,” you laugh. “Although El’s powers help with that whole ‘extra special’ deal.” You look around the room. “Where are they now?”

“Diaper change,” El says as she passes by. “Eddie took her to Nancy and Jonathan’s room.”

You nod gratefully, walking over and lightly rapping on the door. “Is it safe for Mommy to come in, or is it a toxic waste zone?”

“You’re clear!” Eddie calls back. You hear the diaper bag zip up, accompanied by the sound of baby giggles. “This just in: Katie thinks zippers are the funniest things in the world.”

You bend down and scoop her up in your arms. “That’s only because she hasn’t heard any of your fantastic dad jokes.” Your body fills with warmth when your daughter rests her chubby little cheek on your chest. Your daughter. You still can’t get over it even though she’s nearly seven months old. Max gave birth a week after her graduation, and after fifteen hours of labor, a six pound five ounce Katie Munson was born. Once you found out that Max’s middle name was Katherine, you knew exactly what your baby girl would be called. You’d been worried that you wouldn’t bond since she’d spent the last nine months in a womb that wasn’t yours, but you’d felt an overpowering love from the moment the nurse placed her in your waiting arms.

Watching Eddie get to be a dad was nothing short of amazing. The way he peppers her face with kisses, or wakes up for middle of the night feedings, or picks out her clothes. Sometimes, he juts out his lower lip and holds up a tiny dress, cooing, “I didn’t even know they made clothes this little!”

“Let’s go get some food,” you say to your husband, bouncing Katie on your hip. You walk out of the room just as Max is walking out of the bathroom. Her face lights up when she spots Katie.

“Hi, Katie-girl!” she exclaims, reaching out to hold her. “Can Auntie Max get a hug?” You hand her over, watching Max inhale sharply.

You place your palm on her back. “You okay? If it’s…if it’s too much to see her…”

“No, no,” she reassures you. “I mean, it’s hard, but…I know I made the right decision.” She starts making funny faces at Katie. “Look at you with your red hair! It’s a blessing and a curse.”

“I can’t wait until she’s old enough to understand what her Auntie Max did for her…for us,” Eddie ruffles her hair as though she’s still fifteen years old instead of twenty-two. “We seriously cannot thank you enough, Red. You…you made us a family.”

The four of you are silent, absorbing all the love that flows between you, until Katie starts babbling and sends you all into a fit of laughter. “She says, ‘it’s time to eat!’” you joke.

And after a long day at Nancy and Jonathan’s, you finally arrive home. You try not to wake Katie when you take her out of her carseat, but she stirs and starts to wail. Muttering a swear word under your breath, you try rocking her back to sleep, but she keeps crying.

“C’mere,” Eddie says, lifting her from your arms. “I know what she wants.” He walks over to the bookshelf and plucks the book of nursery rhymes that he'd bought at the mall two years ago. He sits Katie on his lap, a big hand on her pudgy tummy. “Humpty Dumpty sat on the wall,” he starts, speaking in singsong, “Humpty Dumpty had a great fall.” He raises his eyebrows and gasps dramatically. “Oh, no! What’s gonna happen to Humpty Dumpty?” You smile as he finishes the rhyme, Katie now fully enthralled in the story. Her cries have completely subsided.

Maybe this wasn’t how you intended to become a mom, but now, you can’t imagine life any other way.

--

[haileyywrites]

hi!! how are you? i adore your writing and i was wondering if you could please write a bit of fluff! in which the reader gets overwhelmed and starts crying because their boyfriend is too sweet, nice, caring and cute. with anyone from genshin of your choice!

Summary: You become overwhelmed and cry from your boyfriend being too sweet, nice, caring and cute!

Pairings: Kaveh x Gn!reader

Notes/Warnings: Reader is completely gender neutral and not described in any way! Poc friendly! Just pure fluff! Reader cries but it's sweet and fluffy! Possible grammar errors!

You had always known Kaveh to be an incredibly kind human being; from the very first moment you met. Someone had rudely bumped into you which caused your items to fall from your hands, the person didn't even bother apologizing before continuing on their way. Kaveh happened to see the interaction and rushed over to help you - he even tried shouting after the person to apologize to you, but they didn't listen.

You appreciated the effort and his kindness nonetheless; he even offered to buy you some food to cheer you up! Though you protested against it, he managed to win you over in the end and he took you to a nice nearby cafe. You could see him eyeing at the prices with worried eyes and a strained smile, you could obviously tell he had some financial problems making his kind offer even more touching. You decided to order the cheapest item you liked and spent the afternoon with him just talking, god you could talk for hours with him!

Falling for Kaveh was the easiest thing you did in your life, but sometimes you wondered how it is you managed to get with him? With his looks and heart of gold you would think him to be more popular with suitors all over him; but no. The people in the Academia you understood as they were usually solely focused in their research, but he was so kind to everyone! Excluding his roommate whom he talked to you about, but didn't let you meet. Somehow Kaveh was a simple rock with gems hidden within, but others didn't seem to look deep enough to get to know him.

He may have not been that good with money, but he always finds other ways to treat you. One of his favorite things to do together is to go for a walk outside of Sumeru city and go sightseeing with you; he always finds the best spots too! Whether you're a morning person who he would go watch the sunrise with or a night owl who preferred the sunset, he will do whatever to make you happy. Seeing you be happy makes him beyond happy and it absolutely melts your heart!

There were many times in the past that almost caused you to burst into tears from him being too kind and sweet or too cute for you to handle! His tendency to draw in animals was strange, but so incredibly adorable. Stray cats would show up whenever you were sitting around and dogs would run up to greet you two - even birds would come closer to him than anyone else! Seeing him give in and pet or play with them was beyond cute!

He was also always so sweet and caring, he would never forget things you liked or cared about! If you needed space when upset he would give it to you; but if you wanted comfort he would be there in an instant with food or snacks he knew you loved. His kindness was also a bit of a flaw as he didn't want to think people would be terrible enough to use charity as a cash grab - which is why he often fell for them. This especially made you upset, but it didn't make you cry like today did.

Seeing the sky becoming darker and darker as your shift was beginning to end worried you, you had neglected to bring an umbrella as it had been clear all day before now. You would have to make your way to the other side of the city while getting completely soaked from the rain; not an ideal scenario. You though about staying until the rain stopped, but you had made plans with Kaveh today right after work and hated the thought of leaving him to wait for you without warning.

You sighed heavily as you changed back into your everyday clothes and prepared yourself for the downpour waiting for you outside, you said a quick goodbye to your colleague before heading for the door with a sad expression. The rain was as heavy as a shower or a bucket of water that was being emptied over you, you shivered as the cold outside air made contact with your skin. This was just your luck...

Out in the rain you could see a figure running full speed towards you, you wondered what kind of maniac was outside in this weather - until you recognized him. It was Kaveh! He held a red umbrella to shield him from the rain and wore a jacket that he usually didn't; it was one of your favorite clothing that he owned, but it was usually only on him during colder days like today. Seeing you he ran faster and almost bumped into you as he came to a halt!

“Thank the Archon's! I'm so glad I cought you before you left!” He said with a relieved smile.

“You came to get me?” You asked in a surprised tone.

He nodded his head as he handed you the umbrella he was holding and stripped off the jacket he was wearing; which he quickly handed to you. He had specifically brought it for you...

“Of course! I thought you probably didn't think to bring an umbrella with you today, so I couldn't possibly let you walk home and get yourself sick from this weather!” He said as if it was the most obvious thing in the world.

Kaveh helpped you put on his jacket before smiling proudly when seeing you in his clothing; it was warm and smelled like him, the fabric was also incredibly comfortable. Everything about it made you feel so incredibly touched... The fact that he came to get you to make sure you didn't get soaked from the rain to bringing you his jacket and looking so proud when you wore it. You couldn't help, but to burst into tears from the sheer kindness and sweetness - the love and thoughtfulness.

Seeing you cry made Kaveh panic and instantly ask if you were okay, he asked if he did something that made you upset and if there was anything he could do to help you while still keeping the umbrella over you to cover you from the rain. It probably made you cry harder seeing him be so frantic and stumble over himself trying to calm you down - he was too cute for his own good! He was just too kind and caring of a human being that it was bound to make you burst into tears one day.

“I'm sorry, you're just too sweet!” You sobbed.

“Wha... What?” Kaveh asked in confusion.

“You're so sweet and kind! It's making me feel so loved!” You cried louder.

“Honey, I don't know what to say...” Kaveh laughed lightly while looking a bit bashful.

“You're also too cute!” You covered your eyes with your hands and continued to cry.

Kaveh stepped closer and pulled you in for tight hug, his hand was wrapped around your back, while the other was steadily holding his umbrella over you both. He let you cry your fill against his shoulder; with his hand running up and down along your back in a comforting manner. By the time you were finished crying rain had calmed down a bit to a pleasant soft shower.

Kaveh let go of you gently and wiped away the remaining tear stains from your cheeks, you both lightly laughed about the situation. Being this close you noticed how his eyes sparkled with so much love that you couldn't help, but lean in for a short yet sweet kiss. After you separated Kaveh held up the umbrella between you and encouraged you to place your hand over his; not only to adjust the umbrella so that it was comfortable for you, but also to hold your hand as he walked you home.

A/N: Hii, I'm doing well and thank you for asking Anon <3 Hope you're doing well too; remember to stay hydrated! Thank you so much for the request btw, your words are so kind! I really hoped you liked this, but if you didn't feel free to request again ^-^ I spent a lot of timing thinking which character to pick, but in the end Kaveh felt like the obvious choice lol I will soon be posting request rules - incase you or anyone else would like to request something in the future!

[Feel free to like, comment and or reblog! Any interaction with this post is greatly appreciated <3]