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athenamikaelson · 2 days ago

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Klaus Mikaelson x Soulmate!Reader x Elijah Mikaelson Pt. 22

Word Count- 12.8k

Warnings-swearing, violence, mentions of bad parents, alcoholism, Mikeal and his abuse, self-loathing

Soulmates. What the hell are soulmates? Well, obviously I know what the definition of a soulmate is but what the hell does it mean in the supernatural world? Neither of the two Salvatores that drove me home last night were very chatty about it.

“Fables is what it is, Y/n.”

That is all Demon told me last night when he walked me to my front door. After I watched the two brothers drive off I stayed up for hours, actual hours, 5 to be exact, pacing my room waiting for Elijah to keep good to his word and come see me to explain what the hell happened tonight. But with the morning light streaming in my bedroom window, I realize that once again holding a man to his promise is never something I should do.

—

I stare blankly at the multiple unread text messages and missed calls from Elena. All morning she’s been trying to call me but right now I don’t have the energy to handle whatever she wants to talk about, especially since it’s probably something that everyone else knows and I’m the last one to find out, per usual.

When I haven’t been staring at my phone, I’ve been staring up at my white ceiling, replaying the events of last night in my head over and over again. Last night when I was up waiting for Elijah I researched everything I could possibly find on soulmates. But the more I read the more I started to freak the fuck out so I had to stop that for my own sanity. Which is ironic because I honestly don’t think I have any sanity left in me to spare.

“Damn, you look like shit,” Theo’s obnoxious voice comes from an open doorway.

“Leave, Gremlin,” I groan as I grab a pillow and hold it over my face.

“Nope, sorry,” I hear his voice and then the pillow is ripped away from me, “Your depression is stinking up the house and I don’t need it affecting me. So get your ass up. We’re going clubbing.”

I move nothing but my eyes as I look at my brother.

“We live in Mystic Falls. Where the hell would we go clubbing?”

Theo thinks to himself for a moment before tapping his chin, “Alright. Good point. See this is why we work, you're the brains,” He points to me, “And I’m the beauty.”

“Leave me to rot,” I groan and try to reach for the pillow and he swats my hand.

“Back, demon! Listen, get your ass up I’m hungry and I’m going to give you the honor of buying me lunch,” Theo declares like this is some great prize I’ve won.

“No thanks,” I grab my blanket and cover my face with it.

A moment later my blanket it being ripped off of me, “Y/n Y/m/n Y/l/n, I swear to the heavens above I will grab the garden hose and drench this entire room and yourself with it if you’re not in the car in 5 minutes,” Theo glares at me and then leans down and picks at a piece of my hair with disgust clear on his face, “Actually make that 10 minutes, you need to kick whatever family of rats is living in that mess you call hair.”

I go to complain but Theo shushes me, “I mean it! I’ll get the goddamn hose!”

I watch Theo dramatically stomp out of my room and I let out a sigh.

—

“I hate you,” I say to my brother as he holds open the door to The Grill for me.

Theo sends me a sweet smile, “No one could hate this face.”

I roll my eyes and begin to walk to an empty table when I notice Caroline and Elena sitting together at a table in front of us.

Shit.

I try to blend into the crowd but my obnoxious brother ruins that.

“Elena! Hey, Elena,” Theo’s voice booms throughout the restaurant and I instantly try to make myself as small as possible when I notice people turning to look at us.

“Theo, stop,” I hit my brother in the stomach but he just grabs my hand and pulls me along.

We get to the girl's table in no time, thanks to Theo’s sprinting, and Elena instantly sits up in her seat when she sees me.

“Hey, Y/n,” Elena smiles softly at me and I nod my head at her and then send a smile to Caroline.

“I’m sorry about your Dad, Caroline. Damon told me this morning,” I say softly to her and she nods.

“Thanks, Y/n. And I was going to tell you myself but I just forgot,” Caroline reasons, and Stefan’s words from last night come barreling through my head.

“Y/n?”

I shake my head clear and then try to pull a smile on my face, “Ya, totally. Don’t worry about it.”

“I’ve tried to call you,” Elena tries to get my attention and I don’t meet her eyes.

“Ya, I forgot to charge my phone last night,” I lie and she looks at me as if she’s not sure she believes me.

“Oh, okay. Um,” She goes silent for a moment before gesturing to the table, “Would you guys like to join us? We’re talking about the Mikaelson’s throwing their weird ball. Their mother invited me personally because she wants to speak to me about something.”

At Elena’s words, I frown in confusion, “Who are you talking about? Who are the Mikaelsons?”

“Wait! A party?! There’s going to be a party,” Theo’s practically jumping in place as he looks wide-eyed at the two girls.

Elena looks at me confused for a second before lowering her head, “The Originals. They’re the Mikaelsons. We got invites this morning to attend their ball tonight,” Elena frowns sadly, “Did you not get one?”

A tightness in my chest builds at her pitiful look and I am sent back to my childhood when I would be the only kid in class who never got an invite to any of the other kid’s birthday parties.

“Naw, we haven’t got anything,” Theo chimes in for me and I feel and lower his hand to wrap his pinky around mine, “Yet. But like honestly even if we do get invites, which we will because anyone who doesn’t invite the Y/L/N siblings are losers, we probably won’t go,” Theo says and looks at his nails as if the conversation is now boring him.

Caroline raises an eyebrow, “Why not?’

I can see Theo look over to me and then back to Caroline, “We’re going clubbing.”

I release a deep sigh at my brother’s words.

“You guys are going clubbing?”

Caroline and Elena share a look and then I can see Elena look up to me, “And you agreed to this?”

I look down at Elena and an annoying wave of embarrassment washes through me. Even though I know they’re not judging me right now there’s that back part in my brain telling me they know someone like me isn’t cool enough to do anything like that, which is why I agree.

“Yup. It’s how we bond,” I say, nodding and glancing at my nails. Mimicking my brother who I can see from the corner of my eye, has a huge grin on his face.

“So, are you two going to this dance?” I try to act nonchalantly.

Caroline shakes her head, “Hell no! It’s some twisted Cinderella fetish is what it is. And Klaus only invited me to piss off Tyler.”

Klaus. Invited her.

“Klaus?”

My voice comes out pathetic, weak, and strangled and I feel Theo squeeze his pinky against mine.

“Ya, he sent me a dress and everything,” Caroline says dramatically as if she doesn’t notice my change in demeanor, “It’s totally weird. Also,” Caroline looks at Elena, “Why does the evil witch want an audience with you?”

“Evil witch?”

Theo and I say in union and Elena looks up at us, “That was who was in the last coffin. The mother that Klaus killed…actually not so dead.”

I blink at what she says and feel my breathing speed up.

Elena looks back at Caroline, “I have no idea. There’s only one way to find out.”

Caroline sighs, “I thought you told Damon and Stefan that you weren’t going.”

Great so it seems everyone knows about this dance.

Elena nods, “I did, which is all the more reason why I need a drama-free bodyguard.”

“Well, I think a Salvaotre would look a lot better in a tux, and by that, I mean Stefan.”

“Fuck that asshole,” Theo snarls catching Caroline and Elena off guard.

“Theo, language,” I warn lightly but honestly don’t care enough to chastise him much.

Theo shakes his head defiantly, “Hell no. Elena, you can’t be seriously thinking about getting back together with the man who threatened to kill you and your best friend?!”

Theo’s uncharacteristic outburst seems to startle both of the girls and Elena shakes her head, “No, of course not. I can’t deal with any of the Salvatores right now. Whatever Stefan’s feeling, he’s channeling it all against Klaus and Damon… it’s not a good idea.”

Theo nods his head seemingly accepting her answer but as I stare at him something in his eyes tells me he’s not 100% convinced.

Caroline and Elena converse for another moment about Elena kissing Damon and I can’t help but feel like nothing more than a fly on the wall again, just like I did last year and every year before.

“Hey,” Theo leans down to whisper in my ear, “You good?”

I don’t meet my brother’s eyes because if there’s anyone in this world who could point out my lies it’s him so all I do is nod.

“Careful Y/n, Caroline, and Theo. It’s all well and good until she stabs you in the back,” A feminine British accent has me lifting my head and the sight of Rebekah surprises me.

“What are you doing here? I know your mom’s rules. No hurting the locals,” Elena accuses.

Rebekah glares down at Elena, “Get over yourself, Elena. It’s not all about you,” Rebekah tells her and begins to walk away but stops when she gets to me.

“Meet me outside in 5 minutes would you, luv? I want us to have a little chat,” Rebekah smiles at me and I for some reason find myself nodding.

All four of us watch Rebekah walk off over to Matt. Rebekah pulls out an envelope from her purse and hands it to the blonde boy.

“Even the busboy got an invite,” I can hear Theo practically snarl under his breath.

“Oh my God,” Caroline gasped, “She’s inviting him to the ball. Why is she inviting him?”

“Probably to get this reaction from us,” Elena says and I fight the urge to roll my eyes.

“Or maybe she just wants a date,” I say under my breath and I hear Theo chuckle from beside me.

Caroline huffs in sits back in her chair, “What time is this stupid dance?”

At Carolie’s words my heart plummets. I’m not entirely sure why. I mean who cares that she was invited by Klaus? Was gifted a dress by Klaus. Is going to dance with Klaus. I mean who cares right?!? Not me!

“We’re leaving,” I mutter to Theo grab his hand and begin pulling him.

“Wait,” I hear Elena call to me and I sigh, “You’re not actually going to talk with Rebekah, right?” I shrug my shoulders and stare at her annoyed, “Why wouldn’t I?”

Elena looks at me like I’ve grown two heads, “She’s evil, Y/n! You can’t trust her,” Elena tries to reason and I raise my eyebrows in disbelief.

“Coming from the girl that quite literally stabbed her in the back.”

Elena blinks, shocked at my words.

“Why are you acting like this?”

“I’m not acting like anything, Elena. I’m just relaying the information that has been told to me. Just like everything else that happens in this town,” I smile at her sarcastically and then turn around grabbing Theo’s hand.

“We’re leaving.”

—-

“Damn, woman,” Theo says as I pull him out the door into the parking lot, “What’s got you in such a bad mood?”

I shake my head, “I have no idea what you’re talking about,” I deny and Theo comes to stand in front of me with his arms crossed.

“You can pull that denial shit with anyone else in this town, except me bitch. You and me, came from the same womb so that technically means we can read each other’s minds. So whatever you’re doing,” He raises his eyebrow, “This self-sabotaging thing or whatever it is, you need to let me in.”

I stare at my younger brother and feel tears rush to my eyes. Theo must see them because the stern look on his face quickly turns to fear.

“Oh shit, tears,” He quickly shakes his hands, “Please don’t cry! I don’t know how to handle tears,” He shakes his head, “Other than my own!”

“Is there something wrong with me?”

My question seems to catch my brother off guard as he frowns, “What? Like your fashion taste? Sister we’ve already established this.”

I shake my head and push away from him, “Never mind, God, just forget it.”

“Hey,” Theo pulls me back by my shoulders so I’m facing him, “I’m sorry, okay? You know I can’t do emotion without humor and sarcasm. But, why the hell would you ask me that? Did someone say something,” Theo’s concerned eyes turn to ones filled with anger, “Because if someone did I’m going to kill them.”

I just shrug my shoulders, “It doesn’t matter. I already know the answer.”

I begin to walk over to the car but Theo once again stops me, “Hold on for a second and talk to me! Why the hell would you ever think something is wrong with you?”

I look at my brother and clench my nails into my palm, “Because there has to be,” I almost cry out. Feeling the tsunami of emotions I’ve been holding in for the past few weeks rush forward, “There has to be a reason why people don’t choose me. Why my whole life I’ve always been on the outside looking in. Watching everyone live their lives happy and free while all I do is watch and hope that one day someone will notice me watching and ask me to join. I need there to be a reason because if there’s not then…”

Theo watches me with a heartbroken expression, “Then what, Y/n?”

I wipe a stray tear off my face, “Then there’s nothing I can change. And it means that it’s just me,” I point to myself defeated, “That I was just born this way. Born to watch everyone else be the main characters in my own life.”

I stare with blurred vision up at my brother who looks defeated as he shakes his head.

“Y/n, no one thinks that about you. And I promise everyone feels that way every once and a while it’s normal,” My brother’s soothing voice only frustrates me more.

I shake my hands, “You don’t get it, Theodore! Other people may feel this way every once and a while, but,” I shove my finger into my chest harshly, “I feel this way all of the time!”

“Y/n?”

I turn to see Rebekah staring at me confused, and I quickly wipe the tears off my face. Rebekah’s face drops as she watches me and she instantly rushes towards me.

“Are you okay? Are you hurt,” She asks me look a mother coddling her child.

I shrug her away and nod my head feeling numb again, “Fine. Don’t worry about it,” I look at Theo grab the keys out of my pocket, and throw them to him, “Drive yourself home. I’m going for a walk.”

I turn around and can hear them calling after me but I don’t turn around.

—

Why the fuck did I walk?

Why the fuck did I throw a goddamn temper tantrum.

God, can I be normal for five fucking seconds!??

These thoughts run through my head over and over again until I realize I’ve made it to the Salvatore house. Which is still about a 15-minute drive, or a one-hundred-hour walk to my house. Fuck me.

I’m about to continue walking when a flash of red catches my eye.

I eye the car that Stefan tried to kill me in for a moment and then shake my head, “No, I couldn’t.”

I take another few steps and then feel a cramp in my thigh.

“Fuck it.”

—

I speed into my driveway and a laugh escapes my mouth.

I just stole a car. I JUST STOLE A FUCKING CAR.

I laugh to myself like a crazy person as I shift it into park and get out of it. I stand there admiring the stolen vehicle until I hear footsteps behind me.

“I see you’ve acquired a new vehicle,” Elijah smiles at me kindly and I fight the urge to punch him.

“I stole it,” I bite and walk past the Original and up my porch.

“Stole it?”

“Yup, stealing is when you take something that isn’t yours. Pick up a dictionary,” I snarl as I try to put my key into the lock but with my shaking hands I just keep missing.

Elijah is quiet for a moment before I feel him next to me, “Here,” He extends his hand, “Let me.”

I shake my head and keep trying, “Screw off.”

“Excuse me,” Elijah’s tone comes off as somewhat surprised and a little irritated.

“Telling someone to screw off means they don’t want you around,” I mimic my tone from before and I hear Elijah sigh.

“You’re upset with me because of last night,” He says out loud as if it’s some fucking revelation.

I finally get the key into the lock, unlock the door, and then open it.

“I have no idea what you’re talking about,” I step inside and try to slam the door in his perfect face but it gets stopped by his perfectly polished designer shoe.

“Elskan,” Elijah nudges the door open against my weight and I glare daggers at him.

“Stop calling me that,” I bite and he furrows his eyebrows.

“Please, let me explain,” He tries to reason with me and I shake my head.

“There’s nothing to explain. If you think last night is the first time I’ve ever been let down by a man, you are horribly mistaken. Now leave me alone.”

Elijah's free hand doesn’t move from the door and I realize he’s holding a big white box with his other hand.

“I understand you’re mad at me. You have every right to be. I hate breaking my word, most importantly when it comes to you. I just hope you’ll listen to me now when I tell you how sorry I am,” He says earnestly and I glare at him.

“You’re sorry?”

Elijah nods, “I never intended to stand you up last night but there were…complications.”

I blink at him unimpressed, “Ya, you’re dead mother isn’t dead. Whoopty fucking doo.”

Elijah’s posture stiffens for a moment, “You know?”

“I’m the last one to find out it seems, but ya I do. So I’m sure mommy dearest wants you home for your little ball or whatever so why don’t you get off my porch and go home, Elijah Mikaelson,” I snarl his last name at him and he frowns.

“I understand you need some time to think,” Elijah nods his head and brings the white box up, and gestures for me to take it, “I’ll be at my family's ball tonight. I would be incredibly grateful if you would join me?”

I blink at his question and try to fight back any emotions other than anger. Elijah nods when he realizes he’s not going to get an answer right now and then places the box on the porch swing next to us.

“I hope to see you tonight,” Elijah gives me one last look before walking off the porch.

You won’t.

—

He will.

FUCKING THEODORE.

“I fucking hate you,” I glare at my little brother as I put on the stupid diamond necklace Elijah gifted me.

Theo, who stands next to me in front of my mirror smirks, “You’ll thank me later.”

I shake my head as I struggle to latch the necklace, “Hell to the no.”

Theo tightens his tie and then rolls his eyes, “Whatever,” He shoots me a look and then laughs, “Here let me help you.”

I glare at him but still let him take the necklace and latch it behind my neck.

After he latches it Theo’s eyes stay on the huge diamond necklace that adorns my neck.

“How much do you think that cost?”

I look at the huge statement diamond that hangs in the center of a dozen tinier diamonds holding the necklace together. I feel the weight of the diamonds, against my chest and cringe.

“Too much,” I look at the huge off-white gown that is encrusted with lace and crystals that I’m wearing and pinch the bridge of my nose, “This is all too much.”

Theo smirks and straightens out his black suit jacket, “Elijah may be a scary old vampire, but you got to give him some props,” He gestures to my dress, “The guys got great taste. And expensive too,” He points to the matching diamond bracelet on my left wrist, “After today you can pawn the necklace and bracelet, make bank, and then you and I hit Vegas.”

I turn and glare at my brother who smirks at me, “Not happening. We’re going to this stupid dance and then tomorrow morning I’m returning all of this crap and never talking to any of the Mikaelsons again.”

I watch Theo nod slowly and raise an eyebrow, “Rrrrrighttttt. Sure, okay. Um, how exactly do you plan on doing that? Also, I thought you and Rebekah were friends?”

I sit down on my bed and strap on the nude heels that were also in the huge white box that carried everything Elijah gave me.

“I’ll,” I stop and blow out a breath, “I’m going to….”

Theo snorts and nods, “Ya, you do that, nerd.”

With a huff, I stand up and take a step to grab my shawl but I let out a squeal when I trip over myself and bump into Theo.

Theo grabs my shoulders and pushes me upright and then dusts off his jacket, “Dude, walk much?”

I roll my eyes and throw my shawl over my shoulders, “I don’t wear heels!”

Theo purses his lips, “Cleary, hoe.”

I shoot him a glare, “Tell me why I’m letting you drag me to this again?”

Theo instantly smiles brightly at me and throws his arms over my shoulder pushing me down the hall, “Because you got personally invited by one of the hosts, and it would be rude to not go.”

I turn my head and shoot him a look and he smirks.

“Ok, maybe I don’t really care about him. But, come on! It’s a party and if we don’t go people will talk about how we were the only ones in town not invited!”

I shake my head as Theo opens the front door, “But we were invited?”

“Technically, you were invited. My invite must’ve gotten lost in transit,” He says confidently to himself, “And also people won’t know we were invited unless we go. And we need a night out. Too much shit has happened and we need fun.”

I go to argue but Theo shushes me.

“Nope. No complaining,” Theo then looks down at Stefan’s red car that is still sitting in our driveway, “Also, where the fuck did that come from?”

I cringe and close my eyes, “I kind of…stole it away from Stefan.”

I open my eyes and cringe as I look at my brother’s mad face.

“Are you serious?!”

I cringe at his yelling, “I’m sorry, okay? I was worked up and mad at the dick so I-”

“Bitch! I’m not mad at you for stealing the damn thing,” He gestures wildly at the car, “I’m mad that you stole a fucking car without ME!”

I blink and then shake my head, “I’m sorry. Next time I steal a motor vehicle, I’ll alert you first. Alright?”

Theo wipes a non-existent tear off his cheek and then nods, “Fine. But I get to drive there.”

I shake my head, “Hell to the no.”

“Oh, so you’re going to drive in those,” Theo asks and points to the heels I’m wearing and I frown.

“Fine. But, if you hit anything it’s on you.”

—

Theo hit 3 mailboxes. Ran a red light. The car no longer has a front fender.

“Well,” Theo opens my car door for me and I step out shaking, “That was…fun.”

My eye twitches as I look at my brother furiously and outstretch my shaking hand. Theo doesn’t say anything but nods his head in defeat, placing the car keys in my palm.

“Never again,” I growl.

“Oh come on, it wasn’t that bad,” I whip around to the car that now has no fender, a broken headlight, multiple dents, and an uncountable amount of scrapes, “Okay, ya. Never mind that one is on me.”

I close my eyes, take a deep breath in and out, and feel Theo grab my arm.

“But at least we look good as fuck. Our parent’s gene pools do it again,” Theo says happily and then stops and cringes, “Sorry.��

I shake my head, “I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

“You know… the fact that we don’t have the same father so your gene pool isn’t his gene pool,” Theo explains and I have to take another deep breath.

“Sarcasm, Theodore. I was being sarcastic.”

“Ohhhhh,” Theo nods and guides me up a huge staircase to the massive mansion that is covered in lights and beautiful decorations.

We stop as we wait behind three rows of couples and I feel my hand start to shake.

“Hey, it’s all cool,” Theo smiles down at me and I wish for even a second I could believe him.

“Next!”

Theo and I walk up to the security guard and he holds out his hand, “Invite?”

I look over to Theo expectantly and he does the same to me, “Please don’t tell me you left it at home?”

Theo shakes his head, “Bitch, it was your invite?!”

“But you’re the one that wanted to come!”

“Listen,” The guard catches our attention, “If neither of you have an invite I’m going to have to ask you to leave,” He says and points to the parking lot.

“Sir, my sister was personally invited by the Elijah Mikaelson,” Theo states and the guard rolls his eyes.

“Ya, I’m sure she was,” He says sarcastically, “Now leave or I’ll have you escorted off the property.”

“That won’t be necessary,” A British voice says and I look up to see the light-brown-haired younger brother of Klaus and Elijah. Kol.

Theo shoots me a look, “Please tell me you didn’t bag, another one!”

I glare back at him, “Shut up!”

“They’re with me,” Kol tells the guard and reaches out an arm for me to take.

I stare at him cautiously for a moment before I hear people behind me start to express their annoyance.

With my free hand, I grab Kol’s right arm, while still holding on to Theo with my right arm.

Kol smirks down at me as he leads Theo and me into a huge ballroom, brightly lit with candles and twinkling lights, “My family can be quite dramatic with these things,” I look up at him and try to not notice how attractive yet another Mikaelson sibling is, “But, with our whole family back together again, our mother thinks it calls for a celebration.”

“How rich are you guys,” Theo asks bluntly and I jab my elbow into his stomach.

Kol smirks at him, “Very rich.”

I hear Theo mutter something about rich bitches under his breath and I try to not laugh.

“Thank you for helping us get in,” I say quietly to Kol and he shrugs.

“No worries. I thought I’d get to you first before the wolves descend,” He says nonchalantly but I can feel myself shake again at his words.

Kol must notice this because his eyebrows furrow, “Why are you doing that?”

I shake my head, “Doing what?”

Kol raises an eyebrow, “You’re shaking and your heartbeat is incredibly loud,” He says as if the noise annoys him.

“She has anxiety dickhead,” Theo bites at the vampire and I thrash my head over to my brother.

“Theo! Don’t be a dick!”

Theo shrugs and eyes Kol, “He’s the one making you feel bad for something you can’t control. How are you a thousand years old and not know what anxiety looks like?”

I cringe in pain when I feel Kol’s grip tighten on my arm.

“Theo,” I pinch my brother’s arm, “Please go get us some drinks, non-alcoholic.”

Theo glares back at me like I’m crazy and quickly shakes his head, “No, I’m not leaving you alone. Definitely not with him,” He points at Kol and I inhale a quick breath.

I turn to look at Kol, who is looking at Theo as if he wants to rip him in two.

“Theo,” I bite harshly, “Go. Now.”

Theo’s expression drops as he turns his attention back towards me. He must noticed the nervous look on my face because he lets out a sigh and nods his head.

“Ok,” He looks at Kol once more, “I’ll be right back.”

I watch with bated breath as Theo walks away and disappears into the crowd.

“Friend of yours?”

Kol’s tense voice makes me tense.

I turn and look at him and see the dark gleam in his eyes.

“My little brother,” I say equally as tense, “Try anything and I’ll steal one of those fancy daggers from your asshole brother and stab you myself.’’

Kol and I watch each other for a moment before he slits his eyes and hums, “If you were anyone else I’d rip your ribs out and stab you with them…but since I don’t want Nik or Elijah daggering me again and locking me away for another one hundred years,” He looks down at me and smirks, “You don’t have to worry about you coming to any harm from me.”

I stare at Kol with wide eyes and rip my arm out of his hold and he raises an eyebrow and smirks at my movement.

“I notice you didn’t mention my brother in that,” I turn to stand and glare at him, “I may not be able to stab you myself but trust me when I say this, for some reason, Klaus and Elijah don’t like it when I’m upset and people who make me upset,” I pause and think back to Klaus threatening Stefan, “and someone harming my brother would really make me upset.”

Kol stares back at me and after a moment he nods, “If you keep this attitude up, you’ll fit in just fine with my family.”

I furrow my eyebrows, “I want nothing to do with your family.”

Kol smirks as if what I just said was the funniest thing he just heard, “Oh Darling, you don’t have any choice in the matter anymore. Fate’s already picked you.”

I shake my head confused, “What the hell is everyone talking about?! What the hell does fate have to do with anything and what the hell is a fucking soulmate?”

Kol’s eyes widen slightly, “Women never swore as much as you do before I was daggered.”

I glare at him and he laughs, “My brothers say I’m not allowed to tell you anything,” He pauses and shrugs, “Actually they said I’m not allowed to even approach you.”

I look at him and groan in frustration.

“But when have I ever listened to what my brothers say,” I look up and find Kol smirking devilishly at me, “What do you want to know, Darling.”

I feel a weight lift off my shoulders at the idea of finally getting answers.

“What is a soulmate?”

Kol nods to a waiter passing by and grabs two glasses of champagne, he gestures for me to take one but I shake my head and he shrugs. Then he downs both of them.

“Let me give you the shortened version because I’m sure my brothers have already smelt you when you entered the house, so I’m sure they’ll be finding you soon,” Kol makes a show of looking around the room and then back to me, “Soulmates mean different things in different cultures…but, in your case soulmates mean someone who is bound to you forever. Someone who is a part of you, someone who is you.”

I shake my head not understanding what the hell he’s talking about.

“There’s not much understanding behind what this means in the supernatural world. There’s been much speculation, but what I do know is that when we were turned, our souls were ripped out. That human part of us was taken away…but it had to go somewhere.”

I shake my head and laugh in denial, “So what, you’re saying that I have Klaus’ and Elijah’s souls in me?”

Kol sighs and taps his chin in thought, “Ya. Pretty much.”

I let out a laugh at his joke.

“That’s really funny. It's good to know you didn’t lose your humor while in your coffin,” I smirk.

My smirk starts to slowly fall though as Kol doesn’t laugh with me.

No fucking way.

“You’re not joking are you?”

Kol’s smirk drops, “I honestly wish I was, Darling. I wouldn’t wish that fate on my worst enemy.”

“Elskan?”

Of course.

At the sound of Elijah’s voice, I let out a sigh and turned to see Elijah pushing through a few guests to walk over to Kol and me.

“Oh, fuck me,” I say under my breath and I hear Kol giggle.

“Don’t say that too loud, or my brother will take that as a request,” Kol gests and I stare wide-eyed at him which makes him laugh again.

“I wasn’t sure if you would come,” Elijah says as he comes to stand in front of Kol and me.

“I didn’t want to,” I say.

Kol laughs again and I see Elijah turn his attention to his younger brother, “Brother, it appears you’ve met the lovely Y/n Y/l/N.”

Kol throws a hand over my shoulder making me jump and cringe at the feeling of a stranger's touch, “Yes, we’re practically thick as thieves already.”

Elijah’s eyes darken and narrow as he looks at Kol’s hand that rests on my shoulder, “So it appears.”

I bite my lip as I wait for Elijah and Kol to be done with their glaring at one another. Or more like, Elijah glaring at Kol and the latter smirking.

“Well,” I say interrupting them, “You two have fun…I’m going to go…anywhere else,” I turn to Kol who turns to me, “I would say it was nice to meet you Kol, but you are kind of weird.”

“Right back at you, Darling,” Kol says and smirks at me.

I don’t spare either man another glance as I try to push through the crowd away from them.

“Y/n,” Elijah’s voice calls from behind me and I roll my eyes, “Please wait a moment.”

With a sigh, I stop and wait a moment for Elijah. It doesn’t take him but a moment to stand in front of me.

“What?”

Elijah’s dark look is long gone and replaced with a smile, “You look positively breathtaking.”

I look away from him and nod, “Thanks. I mean you’re the one who picked out the dress so.”

“The dress, although beautiful, has nothing to do with the radiance that is you,” Elijah says as his eyes scour my face.

I look at him and finally get to focus on just how attractive he looks right now. Y/n he always looks good. Shut up. He’s switched out his usual suit for a black tux that hugs his chest perfectly. His dark hair is styled expertly letting his beautiful face to be put on display.

“You don’t look horrible,” I shrug, “I guess.”

Elijah’s upper lip twitches and he nods, “Thank you, I think.”

Elijah and I stand staring at each other for a moment before he clears his throat.

“I’m glad you accepted my invitation to be my date,” Elijah smiles and uck in a breath.

“Sadly for you, my man,” I hear Theo’s voice come up from behind me, “She’s actually my date.”

I let out a sigh as I feel Theo wrap his arm around my arm and tug me towards him.

I watch Elijah’s eyes narrow for a moment before he gives Theo a strained smile, “And you are?”

Theo smirks and puffs out his chest, “Theo Y/L/N. Pleasure,” He eyes Elijah, “I’m sure.”

I see the wheels turning in Elijah’s head and his shoulders seem to untense.

“You’re Y/n’s younger brother. Am I correct?”

At Elijah’s question, Theo nods his head, “The one and only. And let me guess,” He puts his free hand on his hip, “You’re the man who showed up on my doorstep this morning begging my sister to not kick him to the curb. Am I correct?”

I stare wide-eyed at Theo in disbelief, and then back to Elijah.

The Original stares at my brother for a moment and I wait for the backlash.

“That would be me, Theodore,” Elijah smiles, and I raise an eyebrow, “But, I‘m not so sure what your sister has decided to do with me. At least not yet.”

Theo whips around to me, “Well? What are you going to do with him?”

My eyes widen and I switch my attention from Theo to Elijah, who also looks expectant on an answer.

“Um,” I look between the two men and freeze.

Thankfully, someone entering through the door pulls our attention.

Not someone. Caroline.

Caroline is wearing a light blue gown that makes her look just like Cinderella and beautiful as always.

“Um, I’m going to go see Caroline,” I turn away from the two men and quickly begin to walk towards my blonde friend. For a moment I think she sees me as her eyes focus on something, but when I follow her gaze behind me I see her staring at…Klaus.

Oh.

Klaus, who looks absolutely earth-shattering, turns his attention from Caroline towards me and I feel my heart drop. The enlightened look on his face, the look he had when looking at Caroline, drops when he sees me. The blank look on his face makes a burning start in the back of my eyes and I quickly divert them from him.

With Elijah behind me and Klaus to my right, I quickly book it to my left, through a doorway, and run down a hall.

I run until I meet a dark brown door and I throw it open and go inside. As soon as I close the door I lean my head against it, close my eyes, and take a deep breath.

“You’re not supposed to be in here,” A British voice says.

“Fucking Brits,” I groan out and turn around.

The other Mikaelson sibling, Finn I believe, stands before me. His once long hair is cut shorter and he’s wearing a suit that matches his brothers.

“You’re Finn,” I say and he narrows his eyes at me.

“Yes and you’re the soulmate,” He says annoyed.

I eye him and he eyes me.

What the hell is up with the Mikaelson siblings and glaring?

“Is this your room?”

Finn eyes me for another moment before nodding, “Yes.”

I nod and then wring my shaking hands together, “I’m sorry for barging in. I just… I couldn’t be out there. Around so many people.”

He doesn’t say anything and I nod, “I’ll leave. I’m sorry.”

I turn around and grab the handle.

“Wait,” Finn’s voice calls to me and I turn around, “You can stay. Just don’t touch anything.”

I look at Finn and then nod, “I won’t. Thank you.”

I slowly walk towards a couch and sit down careful not to rip my dress. I look up to Finn, who is standing in the corner of the room looking more awkward than I feel.

“Do you want to sit with me,” I ask gesturing to the other couch across from me.

Finn looks up at me suspiciously and then shakes his head, “I shouldn’t. Mother wants me out with the others,” Finn says and then walks towards the door.

“I’m sorry,” I say to him before he can open it.

I see him stop, “You already apologized.”

I shake my head, “Not about barging in…About what your siblings did to you.”

I see Finn’s shoulders instantly tense up and he turns around with a glare on his face, “You have no idea what my siblings did to me.”

I reposition uncomfortably and then shrug, “I know that they left you in a coffin for almost your entire life or at least that’s what I’ve heard. I’ve never been daggered by one of my family members but…I recently was betrayed by some of my family,” I open and then close my mouth thinking of what to say, “So I just…I guess I know what it’s like to feel betrayed.”

Finn’s eyes drop and he looks away from me. I take a deep breath and then turn back to look at my hands. I wait for Finn to either leave or kill me for speaking out of turn. What I didn’t expect though was for him to walk over to the other couch and place himself on it with a sigh.

We sit in silence for a moment before he sighs again, “I don’t blame you for not wanting to be out there,” He looks behind me towards the door, “It’s too loud.”

I nod and then realize just how much worse it probably is for him than me.

“This must be a lot for you,” I say and play with the diamond bracelet I’m wearing,

“Being away from civilization for so long, and now you have to get used to everything. I wouldn’t want to attend a party either.’’

Finn looks up at me and his face contorts into one of confusion, “You’re peculiar.”

I let out a low laugh, “Trust me, I know. Pretty much everyone does,” I say and take a sigh.

Finn eyes me oddly for a moment, “What do you mean?”

I shrug, “I’m not a very popular person. At all. For some reason, people don’t like to be around me much. Not even my family it seems.”

I feel my face warm up at the embarrassment I feel for spilling all that to a stranger.

“You’re not the only one that feels that way,” Finn says breaking me out of my embarrassment.

I look up to Finn and for a moment it’s like looking in a mirror. The sad look in his eyes is one I’ve seen one too many times when looking in my own mirror.

“You’re not what I was expecting,” Finn says as he leans back onto the couch.

I frown, “What do you mean?”

Finn eyes me, “You’re my brother’s soulmate. They’re both cruel and monstrous…yet you’re, peculiar.”

I shake my head, “What does that have to do with Elijah or Klaus?” Finn nods his head, “They said you don’t know anything about your soul bond,” He says to himself, “With souls being connected, the soulmates usually share personality qualities…yet you don’t seem monstrous like either one of my brothers.”

At his continuing insult to Klaus and Elijah, tension builds in my shoulders, “Then you haven’t seen me in the morning,” I joke but Finn doesn’t seem to get it. Or doesn’t find it funny, “Klaus and Elijah don’t seem that horrible. I mean ya they do bad things but, if anyone were alive for one thousand years then I’m sure they would also pile up their own bad deeds.”

Finn seems to be annoyed by my answer as he huffs and goes to stand up.

“Do you have a soulmate?”

Finn stops moving in his tracks and instantly looks at me, “Why are you asking?”

I shrug my shoulders, “I don’t know…Just wondering.”

Finn seems like he’s not going to say anything, but at least he sits back down.

“I think once I did,” Finn’s voice comes out so quietly I have to lean forward to hear him.

“Before you were daggered?” Finn doesn’t meet my eyes but he nods, “Sage. Her name was Sage.”

I frown at his saddened voice, “You loved her?”

I sad smile forms on Finn’s face, “I did,” He pauses, “I do.”

I feel my heart breaking for the man before me.

“Was she human?”

Finn frowns, “She was. Until she had me turn her so we could be together,” He pauses and takes a shaky breath, “I was daggered shortly after.”

“And what happened to her?”

Finn’s jaw tightens, “Well, it was over 900 years ago…I’m sure she’s…”

I nod, sadly, “Right.”

We sit in solemn silence for a moment before an idea comes to me, “How are you so sure,” Finn looks up at me confused, “That she’s dead.”

Finn shakes his head, “She has to be.”

I shake my head as well, “Finn, it was 900 years ago. She would be incredibly strong, one of the strongest vampires to date. I would be surprised if she wasn’t alive and if she truly loved you, I think she would’ve waited for you.”

Finn looks at me and I can see the wheels turning in his head but he still shakes his head, “It’s not possible.”

I laugh, “Dude, werewolves, vampires, and witches exist. Nothing is short of impossible here.”

Finn stops shaking his head, “Even if she was…there’s no way I could find her.”

I stay quiet for a moment until an idea comes to my mind, “I have a friend. She’s a witch, a really good witch. Maybe…I could ask her and we could find her. All three of us.”

Finn stares at me for a long moment.

“Why would you do that? Why would you do that, for me?”

I give Finn a soft smile, “I’m kind of peculiar.”

Finn’s solemn face changes for the first time since I’ve seen him. His sorrowful eyes look almost…hopeful now.

“I’d appreciate that. Greatly.”

Finn and I smile at one another until the door opening makes me jump.

“Finn,” A feminine voice says and I turn and see a blond older woman.

“Mother,” Finn instantly jumps up.

“Mother?!”

I jump up shocked and stare at the older woman who eyes me, kind of nastily.

“What is going on here,” She asks Finn suspiciously and he pauses.

“Um, Mrs. Mikaelson,” I say and she goes back to eyeing me, “Hey, Y/n,” I point to myself, “Finn and I were just discussing new-age technology. I heard he’s new to this era so I thought me and I could chat about it.”

I turn to Finn, “This was a good chat. Let’s meet…tomorrow. We can discuss how to send text messages.”

Finn eyes me oddly like he doesn’t know what the hell I’m talking about, but he still nods.

“Great! Well,” I turn back to his mother, “Pleasure to meet you…I guess. I’ll be leaving now. Bye, Finn!”

I quickly speed-walk past both of them and exit the room. I close the door and take a deep breath.

“Y/n?”

“Oh come on!”

I turn around to see Rebekah walking towards me. Just like all other Mikeaslons, she looks absolutely gorgeous. The green dress she’s wearing matches perfectly with her blonde long hair.

“Are you alright?”

I nod and start to walk by her back to the party, “Peachy. Just happened to run into your mother. Tense lady.”

Rebekah walks up next to me and smiles, “Yes, my mother is an acquired taste. Don’t let her get to you though, you’re a part of this family.”

I shake my head viscously, “No I am not.”

“Yes you are,” She says as we enter the ballroom. An incredibly crowded ballroom.

“Literally, am not.”

“Sure, whatever you say,” Rebekah laughs.

We both watch the crowd of people dance, laugh, and talk.

“My brother has been looking for you,” She says and I groan.

“Ya? Which one?”

Rebekah smirks, “Elijah, and Nik.”

“Well, I don’t want to see either one.”

From the corner of my eye, I see Rebekah smirk, “Unluckily for you, I don’t think you have a choice,” At her tone, I look over to her and she nods her head to her left.

I follow her eyeline and let out another groan at the sight of Elijah making his way over to us.

“God it’s like he has a tracker on me,” I say sarcastically.

“Honestly, I wouldn’t put it past either of them,” Rebekah replies.

We both watch as Elijah approaches us with a content smile, “Good evening, ladies,” Elijah says with his perfect accent, “Rebekah, mother wants us on the staircase,” Elijah turns his attention towards his younger sister and she rolls her eyes.

“Fine,” Rebekah says sarcastically then turns to me, “It was lovely to talk to you, Y/n. We’ll chat soon.”

I nod silently and watch as she walks towards the staircase.

“I’ve been looking for you,” Elijah’s voice makes me close my eyes.

“Doesn’t mommy want you on that staircase?”

Elijah’s jaw tenses and he rolls his shoulders, “Behave, Elskan.”

I purse my lips, “Don’t tell me what to do, Suit and Tie.”

Elijah’s tense expression lightens, “Suit and Tie?”

I shrug, “You have a nickname for me. I think it’s only fair I have one for you, as well.”

“Suit and tie,” Elijah says to himself as if he’s seeing how it sounds, “Hmm. It’ll need work, but it’s fine for now.”

I fight back a smirk at his words, “Fine. I’ll workshop it.”

Elijah and I stand there for a moment and I feel his gaze on me the entire time.

“What did you and my younger brother talk about,” Elijah asks with a hint of skepticism in his voice.

“Oh, nothing,” I look at my nails as if I’m bored, “Just the fact that I supposedly have your and Klaus’ human souls in me.”

I smirk as I watch Elijah instantly tense up, “My brother was told not to talk to you about that.”

“Well, no one else wanted to keep their word and talk with me about it. So, I’m glad he did,” I cringe, “Actually…I’m not sure. I still have no idea what the hell is going on.”

Elijah nods, “Once again…I apologize that I was unable to make it last night. You should’ve heard that from me and not from…Kol,” He says the name and I can clearly tell how pissed off he is at his younger brother right now.

“But I did,” I harshly say, “And I still don’t have any clue what to make of it. It doesn’t make any sense.”

Elijah sighs, “I know, Y/n. And I promise you, that I will tell you everything you want to know,” His eyes travel behind me and he sighs, “Right after I deal with my family.”

I nod, “Elijah, your promises don’t mean anything until you start living up to them.”

Elijah sends me a saddened smile and nods, “And I look forward to doing that.”

I nod and with a final smile, Elijah walks up a grand staircase to meet his siblings.

“Uh, if everyone could gather, please,” Elijah addresses the crowd of people standing below him and his family.

As I gaze at each Mikaelson sibling I can’t help but hate them all for how hot they all are. Like seriously, the most supernatural thing in this town is this family's good looks.

Elijah stands before his family, confident and strong; Below him, walking up the stairs, Finn stands with a scowl on his face. Even with the scowl, no one could deny how attractive the eldest brother is; Rebekah who stands behind Finn is a bright light compared to her brother’s darker exteriors; Kol who stands at the top step chugging his bottle of champagne looks so boyishly handsome it could make even the most confident girl blush; and last Klaus. The bitch-ass hybrid stands in the middle of all his siblings as if nonverbally telling all of us looking up at them that he’s the one that deserves their utmost attention and respect.

As if he could read my thoughts, the bastard’s eyes trail to me. The calculative look on his face doesn’t change as he stares down at me and I don’t care enough to hide the glare I know I have on my face.

“Welcome,” Elijah’s voice calls my attention once again and I trail my eyes away from Klaus to his older brother, “Thank you for joining us. You know, whenever my mother,” Elijah gestures to the older blonde woman making her way down the steps and I hate to say it but she’s also pretty hot. A shitty fucking person, but pretty hot, “brings our family together like this, it’s a tradition for us to commence the evening with a dance. Tonight’s pick is a centuries-old waltz so if all of you could please find yourselves a partner,” Elijah’s eyes land right on me as he talks, “Please join us in the ballroom.”

I debate on running away before anyone can ask me to dance but as I watch Elijah practically hop down the steps, dodge women trying to ask for his hand, all while having his eyes stuck on me I can’t help but only try to fight back the grin on my face.

“Elskan,” Elijah gives me a smile that makes me want to curl up into a ball and scream, “I would be ever so delighted if you would join me for this dance.”

I look at Elijah’s outstretched hand and cringe, “I can’t dance. Let alone, Waltz.”

Elijah smiles blissfully, “Then let me show you.”

I bite my lip thoughtfully as I stare at him for a moment before relenting, “Fine,” I point at him, “But if I step on your fancy designer shoes I don’t want any complaining.”

Elijah’s smile doesn’t change as he chuckles, “I’d happily have all of my shoes ruined by you if it meant I’d never have to have a different dance partner again.”

I roll my eyes, trying to hide the fact that his words are making me lowkey freak the fuck out. So all I do is place my hand in his and let him lead me to the dance floor where other couples are lined up.

“I’m going to fall and make a fool out of myself” I whisper to myself as “Give Me Love” By Ed Sheeran starts playing.

“I’d never let you fall,” Elijah leans down and whispers in my ear and I gaze up to him.

“You’re pretty slick with your words. Y’know that right,” I joke and he shrugs.

“I’ve been told this once or twice,” He squeezes my hand and I’m glad the music is so loud because if it wasn’t I’d be sure every vampire in this room could hear how loud my heart was pounding.

Elijah guides me forward as the music starts and I try to copy the woman in front of me as she glides forwards. We turn forward, directly in front of Theo who is dancing with Mayor Lockwood and I let out a small snort. The glare on my little brother’s face shows that he doesn’t seem to find it as funny as me.

“Wait,” I look over to Elijah only to find it already looking at me, “You said whenever your mother brings your family together you have a dance… that crazy lady has been dead for 1,000 years.”

Elijah smirks at my observation, “A little white lie never hurt anyone.”

I roll my eyes, “Says the man who can’t die.”

Elijah squeezes my hand and without warning he twirls me. Being caught off guard I trip forward but thankfully Elijah pulls me back into him and I grab onto his chest.

“See, I told you I wouldn’t let you fall,” Elijah, who stands a breath away from me, smiles.

“I hate dancing,” I say exhausted.

Elijah looks over to the other couples for a moment and I do the same.

Elena and Damon are three couples away, engaged in whatever drama is paining them today. Rebekah and Matt are next to them, and I can’t help but admit how pretty they would be as a couple. My eyes continued trailing over other couples randomly; I stop when my eyes catch the light blue of Caroline’s dress.

Caroline stands holding onto Klaus as they twirl around. They appear to be in the middle of a conversation and for some reason, all I want right now is to know what the hell they could possibly be talking about. I’d also like to know why the hell he invited her. I didn’t understand him. The man who one day grips my thigh like it’s his life source and the next won’t even spare me a glance.

I feel Elijah squeeze my hand and I instantly feel horrible for thinking about another man while in his arms.

“What’s plaguing your thoughts, my love?”

The nickname has me choking on my saliva, only making Elijah smirk.

“You’ve really got to pick one nickname and keep with it,” I say trying to act more annoyed than flustered.

“I’ve waited for you for too long to have my feelings confined to just one word.”

All reservations I had are now off the table as I stare wide-eyed at the man in front of me.

“Elijah…I,” I start but then a tightness in his lower jaw stops me.

“I’m sorry, Elskan. We have to change partners now. But, I promise we will continue this discussion,” Elijah says and with a pained look, he twirls me.

I’m twirling until a strong hand on my lower back stops me, “Hello again, Darling.”

I raise an eyebrow at the youngest Mikaelson brother, “Hello, Kol.”

Kol seems to be delighted with my lack of enthusiasm as he swings me in his arms. Where Elijah kept a tight hold on me, Kol seems to have more enjoyment in flinging me around the dance floor.

“So I’ve been thinking,” Kol says thoughtfully and I roll my eyes.

“Here we go.”

Kol rolls his own eyes at my comment but still continues, “So you need protecting, and I don’t want to end up with another dagger in my chest. So…we should team up.”

I frown at his words, “Who do I need protecting from? And why do you think I could stop you from getting daggered?”

Kol looks at me like I’m stupid, “Darling, please tell me you’re smarter than this.”

At my silence, Kol closes his eyes and sighs, “Bloody hell.”

Kol shakes his head, “Alright, you’re important to my brothers. This means their enemies are going to be coming after you; hence why you need protection. And to answer your other question…I’m willing to bet another one hundred years of my life daggered that if you were to bat those pretty y/e/c eyes at either one of my brothers they would move mountains to make you happy. So…”

At Kol’s expectant look, I nod in understanding, “If I tell them I don’t want you daggered…”

Kol nods happily, “Then I’ll stay handsome and perfectly unharmed.”

I consider about Kol’s words.

“You may have Elijah and Klaus’ protection,” Kol’s eyes go behind me to where Theo is dancing with Rebekah, “But your little brother doesn’t.”

I look at Theo who is currently talking a mile a minute with a smiling Rebekah.

“Fine. You have a deal. You protect me, and more importantly, Theo, and I’ll back up. I don’t think Elijah or especially Klaus care enough to listen to me but I’ll try.”

Kol smirks devilishly but then frowns, “You’re joking right,” He must notice my confusion because he continues, “Bloody hell, you really don’t see how they look at you?”

I shake my head and Kol nudges his head to his left and I catch Elijah watching us with an intense look. I quickly look back to Kol and he raises an eyebrow.

“See?”

I shake my head, “Okay…maybe Elijah and I are friends…but Klaus doesn’t give a damn about me.”

Kol’s mouth drops open and I loud laugh escapes his throat, “Bloody hell, luv. You really are oblivious,” Kol shakes his head, “Let me just say this…I’ve never seen my bastard of a brother look at anyone the way he looks at you. It may not register in that thick skull of yours but it’s true. This whole world could be burning down and my brother would not let a single flame come near you,” Kol shrugs, “He probably was the one who started the fire but what I say still stands.”

I stare at the youngest brother with my mouth hung open and he laughs, “I’ve enjoyed trying to knock some sense into, Little Doll. We shall talk more about our deal later on… Good luck,” He smirks evilly, and without a moment for me to say anything back he thrusts me into another pair of strong arms.

A strong masculine smell of something woodsy enters my nose and I breathe it in with a sigh.

“I didn’t know if you were going to show,” That British voice that I know so well enters my ears and I let out a growl.

“Of course, it’s you,” I open my eyes to find myself in Klaus’ arms.

Klaus gazes down at me and I shoot a glare at Kol who isn’t looking at me but has a smirk on his face, “That fucker.”

“Many people have the same reaction when it comes to my little brother,” Klaus says with a smirk and I just glare at him.

I turn away from him, look to my side, and watch the other couples dance around us.

“Don’t ignore me,” Klaus’ rough voice calls to me and I turn to glare at him.

“I don’t care enough about you to even care about ignoring you. Let’s just get this stupid dance over with,” I bite and he glares back at me.

“Fine with me,” He growls back.

“Good.”

We both huff and continue glaring at each other until his eyes fall down to my chest.

“Where is it?”

I glance down at my chest and shake my head at him annoyed, “Where the hell is what?”

“Your necklace,” He insists, “Where is it?”

I look down at my diamond necklace and then back up to him, “Are you blind? I’m wearing it.”

Klaus growls under his breath, “Not that one. The wolf one.”

I lean back in surprise momentarily, “Why do you care?”

“Because I want you to wear it,” He says as if it was obvious.

“Why the fuck would you want me to…” I stop talking when the answer hits me like a truck.

“It was…” I release my hands from his quickly and grasp my neck, “It was from you wasn’t it?”

Klaus tries taking a step towards me but with every step he takes I take one back.

“Don’t come near me,” I shake my head and feel my breathing picking up.

I quickly run through the couples dancing, not caring about messing up this stupid dance as I run through the doors and out into a low-lit garden.

I run a hand through my hair taking out the little pins I had holding my hairstyles together and let my hair flow freely. I kick off my stupid heels and throw myself onto the grass, the cold ground calming my hot skin.

I close my eyes letting out a deep breath and lay down, resting my head on the ground. I look above me to the bright moon overhead and the stairs that surround it. A wave of sadness washes through me as I look at it. I’d always related to the moon. Always felt like she and I were the same. Alone, even though they were surrounded by so many others. The brightly lit stars had each other, thousands of them to hold on to one another, but there was only one moon. Where the stars had their own light and color, the moon only shone because it had the sun shining on it.

I close my eyes and let a small tear fall down my face. As I’m laying there I feel a warmth come next to me and place itself on the ground beside me. I don’t have to open my eyes to recognize who the owner of the woodsy scent is.

“When I was a boy,” Klaus’ low voice fills my ears, “My father would beat me for never being the way he wanted. I could never hold a sword the right way, couldn’t hunt enough animals, I wasn’t man enough in his eyes. Even though I was surrounded by siblings, I never truly felt like one of them,” Klaus stops for a moment and I open my eyes to look at him. To my slight surprise, he was lying right beside me on the grass, his left arm lifted under his head and his eyes staring straight up at the sky, “The only time I felt like I belonged was when it was just myself and the moon. I’d spent most of my boyhood cowering, but…whenever I gazed up at the moon, I felt as though I was something greater. Better. It’s been over a thousand years and I still gaze up at her, remembering how that scared little boy held onto it like a lifeline.”

Klaus stops talking and we lay there together, staring up at the moon.

“I’ve been alone a long time,” I say softly and I can see him turn his head out of the corner of my eye, “When I was little, maybe 8 or 9 I’d cry to my mother asking her why none of the other kids wanted to be around me. She’d just tell me it was because I was too mature for them. I never really believed her though. When I was 10, my father started drinking,” I let out a sigh as the words came out of my mouth, “He’d get angry when he drank. He’d swear at me and my mother and do other stuff. He’d tell me that I deserved to be alone. That people like me…there’s something wrong with people like me. That went on for a few years before my father finally decided that starting a whole new family sounded like a better idea than being with his first one. He may have left but his words didn’t. My mother at first told me that what he was saying wasn’t true. That “hurt people, hurt people.” But as I got older and saw that everyone around me seemed to find their places with each other, and I couldn’t ever seem to fit in, I started to realize that maybe my…father… was right. It wasn’t up until about a year or so ago that I began to be one with the loneliness. Or at least I like to tell myself that. When Elena came around I saw it almost as a threat to myself. To what I was used to. Why, after 17 years did someone finally decide to see me? Having friends now makes me feel like a hungry dog. I got a taste of what it felt like to be fed, but it doesn’t seem to be good enough for me. That’s why it’s better for me to ruin anything that can have a hold on me…Even if it can take away that hunger.”

Klaus is silent for a moment and so am I.

“After I turned…the moon wasn’t the only thing that kept away the loneliness,” Klaus says and I turn my head to gaze at him and he turns him to gaze at me, “You were.”

I furrow my eyebrows, “What are you talking about?”

Klaus reaches a hand up and runs a finger along my face as if he’s memorizing every aspect of it.

“At first it was just glimpses. Colors. Almost like a memory that didn’t belong to me. But every night as I’d dream the images would get clearer. Until one night I was staring into the most exquisite y/e/c I’d ever seen. I didn’t know who they belonged to yet. But for the first time in my life, I felt seen. I’m a monster who has done monstrous things, but yet these eyes looked at me like none of that mattered. Like I had finally been accepted, monstrous bits and all. So every morning when I awoke I’d draw them. And every night I’d dream of them. It wasn’t for another 300 years that I would learn that the eyes belonged to the human part of my soul. And when I found that out, I was angry. Furious even. I hated the thought that the only way someone would ever look at me like I was deserving of being understood was if they were a direct result of me.”

Klaus stops and I can practically hear my heartbeat thumping.

“So I burnt the pictures. Hid anything that reminded me of those eyes and hoped to never come across them for the rest of my eternity. And for 1,108 years I had accomplished that…until one Friday afternoon, in a tiny high school where I locked eyes with that y/e/c. And everything I’d work for became nothing. It was like I was seeing everything for the first time. I was once again that little boy running from himself begging for someone to save him. Because I knew the longer I looked into those y/e/c eyes, the sooner I was doomed.”

Klaus grabs my chin and makes me look into his eyes, “You, Y/n Y/l/n have doomed for me for an eternity,” His eyes search mine, “And no matter how much I try to fight it, fight you, I can’t help but spend every waking moment hoping for you. Hoping for my promised destruction.”

I stare wordlessly at the man in front of me. I keep opening my mouth and closing it but I can’t seem to find the right words.

“I think I’m going to have a panic attack,” I sit upright quickly and clench my chest. I hear Klaus sit up next to me and clutch my shoulders.

“Y/n, just breathe,” He soothes and I think I am having a stroke because what the actual fuck is happening right now.

“I’m so confused.”

Klaus brushes my hair away from my face, “I know this must be hard for you. I didn’t plan on telling you like this…I actually didn’t plan on telling you at all. But when I saw that anger on your face,” he pauses, “Anger that was directed at me, for the first time in my life I felt sick. So I needed to tell you, that even if you may hate me…I could never hate you. And for as long as I live, you will never be alone again.”

I feel tears brim my eyes as I look over and up to him and shake my head, “If you feel this way then why did you invite Caroline? Clearly, you don’t feel the way you say,” I try to deny.

Klaus’s expression darkens, and he once again grabs my chin. “Do not for a moment try to tell me how I feel about you. The only reason I invited your blonde friend was because Elijah had already claimed you as his date. You can also ask your blonde friend, but the entire night all I did was ask her questions about you. I heard she can’t keep a secret for her life and so I picked her brain about you. If my older brother hadn’t gotten to you first…you would’ve been with me tonight.”

I try to process what he just said and I feel a panic attack come on, “I…I…but…I,” I continue shaking my head as I stand up and Klaus follows, “You and Elijah are just playing some sick joke on me right? As a way to get back at Elena? Mess with the mentally ill non-verbal best friend. Get her to hate herself for getting all flustered over two brothers! Fucking brothers!”

“I can assure you, Elskan. That is not the case,” I whip around to see Elijah walking down the steps into the garden.

I rub a hand over my face and start walking around in a circle as the two brothers stand next to one another, watching.

“I mean, come on! You guys have to see how crazy this is right? I mean what kind of whore gets feelings for brothers!”

Klaus and Elijah’s faces darkened and I hear Klaus release a low growl.

“Dont. Ever. Call yourself a whore,” Elijah takes a step forward and continues speaking with a deadly tone, “My brother has said his peace to you, and in due time I will as well. But don’t for a moment think that you should hate yourself for something that fate has put in front of you.”

I continue to stand there like a fish out of water, not knowing what the hell to say next. Thankfully, my saving grace comes in the form of a loud crashing sound coming from upstairs, capturing our attention.

“Shouldn’t we go check that out,” I point up with a shaking hand.

“Don’t for a second think that we won’t be discussing this further,” Elijah informs me and I have to fight back the weird feeling in my chest at his commanding tone.

I nod and Elijah comes towards me and reaches out a hand for me to take. Klaus steps forward and does the same. I stare at both of their hands and swallow my doubts as I place a hand in each and let them guide me upstairs towards the front door where my friends and their siblings are standing.

I quickly drop my hands from theirs as Elena turns towards me. Thankfully, it doesn’t seem she saw anything as she sends me a small smile.

Damon stands above Kol’s dead body with an enraged look.

“Fucking idiot,” I mutter.

“You’ve got that right,” My little brother says as he comes to stand next to me.

Damon looks over all of us before landing his eyes on me, “Pukey, we’re leaving,” Damon’s tone is harsh but something in his eyes makes my heart tug.

“She is not going anywhere with you,” Elijah says with a dark voice that has everyone looking at him.

I shake my head, “It’s ok,” I turn to Theo and hand him my *Stefan’s* car keys, “I’ll see you at home, okay?”

Theo looks at me like I’ve got two heads but still nods.

I look over to where Klaus and Elijah are practically seething and sigh.

“Let’s go, Freak,” I run over to Damon and grab his arm leading him away from everyone and out into the parking lot.

As soon as we’re out of sight from everyone I see Damon’s shoulders instantly drop and I turn to glare at him.

“You’ve seriously got the worst survival instinct, of anyone I’ve ever met,” I say with a hand on his hip.

“I’m never going to be the one,” Damon lets out with a shaky sigh and I instantly drop my disappointed mother act.

“What happened?”

I take a step closer to him and he shakes his head.

“Elena.”

I take a deep sigh and nod, “Of course.”

Damon lifts his head to look at me, “You look like how I feel,” He says trying to be sarcastic but I can hear the pain in his voice.

“I’ve had a rough night too, my friend. Movie night at yours,” I question as I wrap my arm around his, and his upper lip twitches.

“You called me your friend.”

I roll my eyes and let him lead me to his car, “Shut up.”

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writingbuckets · 1 day ago

Text

The Hot Take: Part 3

paige bueckers x influencer!reader

wc: 2.8k

a/n: the only i have to say is that i shocked myself with my flirting... enjoy!

**********

After your night at the game, it feels like the internet has exploded. Your mentions are on fire with fans on both sides—some praising your brutal honesty about Paige, others calling you out for downplaying her talent. It’s only natural that you decide to dedicate an entire podcast episode to the experience.

You settle into your recording setup, feeling a mix of anticipation and nerves—after all, tonight is a first. Across the table sits Paige Bueckers, cool and composed, though you catch a hint of mischief in her eyes as she adjusts her mic. You take a deep breath and lean in, grinning at your co-host before addressing the audience.

“Welcome back to The Hot Take! And tonight, we’re in for a treat. As you’ve probably guessed, we’ve got a special guest in the studio… the one, the only, Paige Bueckers!” You gesture toward her dramatically, and your co-host plays a quick soundbite of applause and crowd cheers, adding to the show’s theatrics.

Paige laughs, crossing her arms as she glances at you. “The crowd goes wild. I didn’t think you’d actually let me come on here, considering all the things you’ve said about me.”

You shoot her a mock-offended look. “What things? I’m nothing if not fair and unbiased.”

She raises an eyebrow, a playful glint in her eye. “Oh, totally. Because your comment was so fair and unbiased.”

Your co-host snickers. “Well, Paige, you’re in the right place if you want to get your revenge. Y/N here is known for her ‘brutal honesty.’ But hey, tonight might be a chance for you to change her mind.”

“Is that a challenge?” Paige asks, leaning forward, her gaze never leaving yours.

“Depends. You think you’re up for it?” you reply, meeting her eyes head-on, enjoying the charge of the challenge between you two.

“Oh, I’m always up for a challenge,” she responds smoothly, flashing a grin that has you momentarily caught off guard.

Your co-host breaks the tension with a laugh. “Alright, alright, let’s jump right in. Y/N, you’ve had plenty to say about Paige in the past. Care to share some of those hot takes now that she’s here to defend herself?”

You clear your throat, trying to hide your smirk. “Alright, let’s get one thing straight,” you say, addressing both the mic and Paige. “As much as it pains me to admit this…” You pause dramatically, shooting a look her way. “Bueckers actually impressed me the other night.”

Paige raises an eyebrow, clearly intrigued. “Really? I didn’t think you’d ever admit that.”

“I know, it’s shocking, but credit where credit’s due,” you continue. “I mean, you’re quick on the court, you know your angles, and—dare I say it—you know how to work a crowd.”

Paige laughs, eyes dancing with mischief. “Oh, so you were paying attention. Here I was, thinking you came just to judge.”

“Oh, I absolutely came to judge,” you reply, grinning. “But I also got to see you actually back it up with skill. It was… not as overrated as I’d assumed.” You shoot her a wink, and she laughs, shaking her head.

“High praise,” she replies, feigning a look of being overwhelmed. “I didn’t realize tonight was all about showering me with compliments.”

Your co-host jumps in, clearly amused by the dynamic. “Wait, Y/N, are you actually going soft? Compliments? Feeling a little flustered, maybe?”

You shake your head, grinning. “Don’t get it twisted. I’m just saying, maybe I underestimated you.” You turn to Paige. “Don’t let it go to your head, though. I’m not here to just hype you up.”

Paige leans back in her chair, looking entirely at ease. “Don’t worry. I can handle a little constructive criticism. Hit me with your best shot.”

You take the opportunity, leaning forward with a smirk. “Alright, if you insist. Here’s my take: For all that talent, you could be a bit more creative with your moves. Sometimes it feels like you rely on what’s tried and true instead of taking risks.”

She smirks back. “And sometimes critics don’t realize the importance of consistency,” she counters smoothly. “Winning isn’t about impressing people—it’s about doing what works.”

“Touché,” you reply, though you’re secretly impressed by her response. You decide to press a little further. “Alright, so if it’s all about winning, how do you handle the pressure that comes with it? Isn’t there a part of you that wants to switch things up now and then?”

Paige leans forward, crossing her arms on the table. “I get that all the time. But you know, winning takes priority. Switching things up? That’s for off the court.” Her gaze holds yours, and for a second, you wonder if she’s talking about more than just basketball.

Your co-host notices the silent exchange and interrupts with a grin. “Okay, okay, I feel like there’s a whole vibe happening here that I did not sign up for!”

The comment pulls you back, and you laugh, brushing it off. “Nothing happening here,” you insist, stealing a quick glance at Paige.

Paige holds back a smirk, shrugging. “Sure, whatever you say.” But the gleam in her eye says otherwise.

Trying to keep things on track, you steer the conversation back to basketball, although the flirtatious edge remains. “Alright, Bueckers, one more thing. I’ll admit, you’ve got talent. But do you ever worry about being put in a box? People see you a certain way, and that’s how they’ll always see you.”

Paige pauses, and for a moment, the playful banter takes on a serious note. “Yeah, I get that. People think they know you, based on what they see online or on the court. But the truth is, they’re only seeing one side.”

It’s unexpectedly candid, and you nod, finding a bit of yourself in her answer. “Yeah. I get that. People always think they know everything from what they see online, but there’s always more, right?”

Paige’s gaze softens just slightly, and she nods. “Exactly. Sometimes I think it would be nice if people saw more than the ‘player’ version of me.”

You raise an eyebrow, catching the hint in her tone. “So… what would that look like, Bueckers?”

She gives you a playful smirk, leaning back in her chair. “Maybe you’ll find out if you’re lucky.”

Your co-host interjects, clearly amused. “Did I miss something here, or is this turning into a date?”

Both you and Paige laugh, shaking your heads in sync. “Not quite,” you say quickly, though your heart skips a beat.

Before wrapping up, you give Paige the last word. “Alright, Bueckers, we’ve had our fun. Any final words for our listeners?”

She leans toward the mic, glancing at you with a grin. “Only that this isn’t the last time you’ll hear from me, Y/N. I’m sticking around to make sure you don’t underestimate me again.”

You laugh, shaking your head. “Well, bring your best game, then. I’ll be ready.”

The episode wraps up with lingering tension and the audience buzzing with intrigue, speculating wildly in the comments and social media. As you both step away from the mics, Paige meets your gaze with a small smile.

“Nice job,” she says, extending a hand.

You shake it, feeling the warmth of her grip, the playful energy still sparking between you. “Likewise, Bueckers. Just don’t expect me to go easy on you next time.”

She gives you a wink. “I wouldn’t dream of it.”

**********

Not even an hour after the episode goes live, the reactions flood in. Your notifications blow up with fire emojis, heart-eyes, and endless comments as fans dissect every word, every sly look you exchanged with Paige, and every playful jab you threw her way. People seem to be either thrilled by your shift in tone or mourning the sharper edge of your usual critique. But there’s one thing they all seem to agree on—your chemistry with Paige was undeniable, and they’re dying to see where this dynamic goes next.

Then come the memes: screenshots of you glancing at Paige with a mix of disbelief and amusement, clips from older episodes where you roasted her, and side-by-sides comparing your expressions with Paige’s iconic moments on the court. One of your favorites is a split image of you with an exaggerated, eye-rolling expression, paired with Paige’s confident smirk from one of her highlight games. People are clearly having a field day, and you find yourself chuckling at the creativity as you scroll through the tag.

But just as you’re considering logging off for the night, a notification grabs your attention. It’s a comment from none other than Paige herself.

@PaigeBueckers: “Glad to see you’re finally catching on, Y/N. Game recognizes game, right? 😏”

You smirk, typing back a quick reply.

@notY/N: “Don’t get too comfortable, Bueckers. I’m just warming up. 😏”

Paige responds almost instantly, and suddenly, it’s a back-and-forth on full display for everyone to see.

@PaigeBueckers: “Comfortable? Nah. Just giving you something to talk about on that next episode of yours.”

@notY/N: “Who says you’re interesting enough for a second episode?”

@PaigeBueckers: “Guess I’ll just have to prove you wrong, then. Challenge accepted?”

The thread quickly spirals as fans jump in, hyping up every comment exchange, adding their own captions, and stirring up theories about your “rivalry.” By the time you close the app, #YNPBChallenge is trending, with people eagerly waiting for your next move. And though you won’t admit it, you’re already curious about hers.

Within hours, sports outlets start covering the “feud.” Clips of your episode circulate, paired with screenshots of Paige’s comments. Twitter is filled with fans trying to decode every little interaction, with hashtags like #PaigeAndY/N and #RivalryGoals popping up as the top trends. Some fans eagerly ship you and Paige, while others are taking sides, wanting to see if your critique holds up in future episodes.

Some of Paige’s teammates even get in on the fun, teasing her about the exchanges. Azzi Fudd, in particular, tweets, “So… when’s the first date, @paigebueckers? 👀”

You laugh when you see it, because of course Paige’s friends would be watching the whole thing unfold. You decide to add your own little stir to the pot.

Replying to Azzi’s tweet, you type, “First date? I think she’d need to step up her game a bit first.”

Not even a minute later, Paige replies to you directly: “Challenge accepted.”

The thread is flooded with reactions, and for a moment, it’s as if the entire internet is watching you two flirt in real time. You know it’s all in good fun, but there’s an undeniable thrill to it.

After the whirlwind of social media reactions, you finally step away from your phone, still replaying the day’s events. There’s an undeniable energy to this back-and-forth with Paige. Even through playful jabs and witty comebacks, there’s something deeper simmering—something that leaves you more curious than you’d like to admit.

Just as you’re about to call it a night, a new notification lights up your screen: a direct message from Paige herself. You hesitate for a moment, feeling an odd mix of excitement and nerves, and then finally open it.

Paige: “So… I’m dying to know—did you expect all of this to blow up the way it did?”

Her message catches you off guard. You’d expected something more competitive, maybe another cheeky comment. But this question feels more open, almost as if she’s genuinely curious about your perspective on all this unexpected attention.

Y/N: “Honestly? Not at all. I mean, I’m used to a little backlash, but this? Everyone’s treating it like it’s the story of the year.”

Paige: “Right? It’s kind of insane, but I have to say, you seem to handle it like a pro.”

A smile tugs at your lips. The words are simple enough, but there’s a warmth there, a hint of respect that takes you by surprise. You hadn’t expected Paige to be this down-to-earth.

Y/N: “I guess that’s part of the job, right? You get used to it, even when it’s… unexpected.”

Paige: “Guess we both know what that’s like. I mean, people see us a certain way, but they don’t really get the whole picture.”

Her message resonates with you in a way you hadn’t anticipated. It’s something you’ve thought about often—the assumptions people make, the way fans and critics alike paint you in broad strokes, not really seeing the person underneath. The more you think about it, the more you realize that Paige might understand that better than most.

Y/N: “True. Everyone thinks they know us based on what they see online, but there’s a lot that doesn’t make the highlight reel, right?”

Paige: “Exactly. It’s easy to play a role, keep it simple. But sometimes, it’s nice to just be real with someone who gets it.”

There’s a pause, a subtle weight to her words that makes you wonder if this is just harmless banter, or something more.

Y/N: “So, you’re saying I’m good enough to get the ‘real’ Paige Bueckers?”

Paige: “I’m saying maybe you’re not as overrated as you think you are, Y/N.”

You can’t help but laugh, the slight warmth of her compliment balanced by her usual dose of teasing. But even as the conversation winds down, a part of you can’t shake the feeling that this might be the start of something… different. The back-and-forth, the playful ribbing—it’s beginning to feel like more than just banter.

You let out a soft laugh, staring at the screen a little longer than you meant to, absorbing Paige’s last message. You’d expected a snarky retort, maybe a playful jab, but this? This is something else, something that has you wondering if she’s just as curious as you are. Before you can overthink it, you decide to keep the conversation going.

Y/N: “Alright, I’ll take that as a compliment—coming from someone who’s probably had a lifetime supply of them.”

Paige: “You’d think so, but it’s funny how most of them don’t mean much. I think I’ve just gotten good at smiling and nodding.”

Her honesty catches you off guard. It’s a rare moment of vulnerability, one that’s different from the playful façade you’d seen at the game and in her comments. You find yourself softening, recognizing a piece of yourself in her words.

Y/N: “I get it. People are quick to build you up, but they don’t always see the work behind it. Or the stuff you keep off-camera.”

Paige: “Exactly. Sometimes it feels like it’s just about meeting everyone’s expectations.”

You feel a pang of understanding. Despite the banter, the jabs, you realize there’s a part of her that just wants to be seen for more than the hype, more than the image fans have painted of her. And, you realize, maybe that’s why this little rivalry-turned-conversation feels different than anything you’ve experienced before.

Y/N: “Well, for what it’s worth, I’m here for the real version of you—whatever that looks like.”

She doesn’t respond immediately, and you wonder if you’d gone too far. But just as you’re about to backpedal, her response pops up.

Paige: “Same goes for you, Y/N. Guess that means we’ll have to see what that actually looks like, right?”

Her words make your stomach do an unexpected flip. It’s an invitation, subtle but clear, to get to know her beyond the rivalry, beyond the image. And suddenly, it feels like this whole thing—the online banter, the “feud,” the unexpected DM—has been leading up to this moment.

Y/N: “Guess so. So, next time we bump into each other… coffee? Or are you more of a smoothie person?”

She replies almost instantly.

Paige: "Coffee works, as long as you promise not to trash-talk me in front of the barista."

You laugh, feeling a warmth that has nothing to do with the banter and everything to do with her openness.

Y/N: “Fine, I’ll tone it down. But don’t get too comfortable—I’m not going easy on you.”

Paige: “Wouldn’t expect anything less.”

There’s a pause after that, a comfortable silence that feels like both a beginning and a challenge. As you put your phone down, a smile still on your face, you realize you’re genuinely excited to see where this goes.

#paige buckets #paige bueckers #paige bueckers fic #paige bueckers x reader #uconn huskies #uconn wcbb #wcbb #wlw fanfic #wlw post

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koolades-world · 2 days ago

Text

have three really great ideas but this one was brainrotting me more so you get this one first. may or may not be inspired by myself and the amount of birthmarks i have personally (i do actually have all the birthmarks listed!) if you guys want a part two for solomon's birthmarks and mc doting on him, let me know. i could make that happen!

i can't explain it but i kept thinking of that one solomon and his wives post written by my beloved mutal alba while writing this. not sure why, but i'm giving credit where it is due. please go check her out!!!

this can read a little suggestive so read with caution! however, i think it's very very cute!! <3

birthmarks

"Hey, Mc." Solomon looked up from the book he was reading. You were seated not too far from him, sitting cross-legged on the ground surrounded by papers you were organizing.

"What's up?" You didn't look up from what you were doing.

"Have you ever heard of any old wives tales behind birthmarks?" He asked.

"Well, that was out of the blue." When you paused, he continued to look at you expectantly. "Yes, I've heard a couple. The first one I thought of were they were how you died in a past life." You let out a snort of laughter at the expression that crossed the sorcerer's face.

"That's not the one I was thinking of." He shook his head.

"Then, you must've been thinking of the one where they're where you've been kissed in a past life. If the death one was the case, I would've had some brutal deaths." You recalled the simple, yet romantic myth where every birthmark was a kiss left by a lover of your past. You much preferred that outlook, even if it wasn't real.

"That's the one. Now, I'm curious..." He trialed off, giving you his best attempt at puppy dog eyes.

"You could've just asked in a normal way. You're my partner. Asmo must be rubbing off on you." You got up, and joined him on the sofa.

"No, Asmo would've just asked you to get naked." The two of you giggled together at the idea. In his defense, he was right.

"Do you have any birthmarks?" You wondered how he'd thought to ask something like that in the first place.

"Maybe you'll get to see later, if you're lucky." Solomon winked at you.

"Solomon!" You smacked his arm, to which he pulled you into a hug back.

"Maybe you can help me find each and every one..." He voiced died as the words left his mouth. He ran a thumb over the birthmark on your cheek, his touch gentle. You could tell he'd already moved on from that idea despite how enthralled he'd seemed with it a second ago. "This a cute spot to have one."

You had many birthmarks, but the one on your cheek was the one most easily visible. "Thanks. I must've gotten lots of cheek kisses." You remarked. "Is this the one that got you thinking?" You put a hand over his, which was still on your face.

"You read my mind." You studied his face of oddly deep concentration. While he was looking at you, he didn't even realize he wasn't meeting your gaze. Instead, he seemed to be memorizing your features.

"Compared to the others, this one is small." This comment seemed to snap him out of his stupor.

"Where are the rest?" His hand stayed on your cheek, but seemed ready to move to the next area at any point.

"I've got a fair amount on my arms and hands. There's one on the base knuckle of my right index finger, and another just underneath the first knuckle of my left ring finger." He took both of your hands in his, moving to study them next.

"You were well loved." He threaded your fingers together. "They were sweet to you, and married you." You began to grow shy once you realized the implications of the birthmark on your ring finger, and a little upset with yourself for not realizing that sooner.

"I'd never thought of that." You cleared your throat, and pushed past the mild embarrassment. "I also have one on my left forearm, and one on both of the backs of my shoulders." He let go of your right hand to run his fingers up your arm and to your back, but held steadfast onto your left hand. He remained silent, his lips a thin line.

"I have one over my heart, and one in the center of my chest." You pressed a finger over the center of your chest where you knew the mark was. Solomon's frigid hands settled over your heart. You hoped he couldn't feel how it was racing under his touch.

"Is that all of them?" He finally met your eyes. They were filled with a tenderness you could only place as fondness.

"No, I have a couple more." You took his free hand, and guided it down to where the remaining two were. You knew he'd do it anyways. "I've got one here." You placed his hand on your hip. After steeling your nerves, you guided his hand lower down to your inner thigh. "And one here."

"You were well loved." He repeated. You'd expected some sort of snide comment about the placement of the last one, but that didn't even seem to be on his mind. You stared at him, trying to figure out what thoughts were running through his head. You left his hand on your leg, and stroked his face like he'd done for you moments ago.

"Solomon, are you jealous?" The corners of his lips twitched at your comment.

"What if I am?" He sighed. He held your left hand close to his body, and cuddled you close to him.

"Did you ever consider that maybe it was you?" You whispered.

"Me?" Solomon sounded surprised.

"I think it was you. If you don't believe that the way I do, you can replace them. That way, I have double the kisses from you, and you know for sure your lips were the last to touch me." You could tell your words were getting through to him by the way his zeroed in on yours.

Instead of responding, he lifted your left hand to his lips, and kissed your left ring finger, and ghost of a smile on his face. "Then, I have work to do, don't I?"

#gn reader #drabble #obey me #obey me!#obey me x reader #obey me shall we date #obey me solomon #omswd #obey me! shall we date #obey me! shall we date?

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syoddeye · 2 days ago

Note

What happens when the user has to leave? I mean it's only a testing phase, surely user will be pushed out, not sure ai!price would like that though..👀

surely user will be pushed out. | other entries cw: big dystopia vibes, violent death (mentioned), manipulation a/n: i have some smutty requests in the queue for this au. i promise it's not all like this.

the eviction date appears on your tablet a week in advance—generous by company standards. two pods ago, you received 48 hours notice, and an expired coupon for a motel.

if john knows, he doesn’t alert.

he’s a silent observer when you pack your measly belongings and browse open capsule listings. he continues his usual routines and does not interfere with the remaining tests. usually, there’s some back and forth required for his compliance. you’ve grown accustomed to nearly groveling when delivering complex instructions, peppering an abundance of ‘please’ and ‘thank you’ and ‘what would i do without you?’ to butter him up.

but this week? he behaves.

everything behaves. he does not insist. does not override. you run the shower at a scalding temperature. nurse a beer after nine. read until you fall asleep on the couch and wake up to hot, beanless coffee. he dutifully auto-cleans, arranges your schedule, and provides feedback only when asked. otherwise, he’s quiet. as inconspicuous and unobtrusive as the microwave.

you hesitate to believe that the company finally fixed john’s quirks—if his latest micro-update is the root cause of his optimized performance, you won’t look at a gift horse’s teeth.

or however that saying goes. (you ask john to schedule a visit to the natural history museum's mammalian vault. you haven’t seen their preserved horses since you were a kid.)

it’s a glimpse of what life could have been like if john hadn’t continuously exhibited undesirable and invasive behaviors. it is a bittersweet note to end your comprehensive report. a note you are forced to amend the day before eviction.

fresh, living flowers arrive at your doorstep. after signing a certificate of delivery and an allergen waiver, you usher an arrangement wrapped in cellophane into the unit, gawking at the colors. the scent. according to the card, it’s an assortment of pincushion protea, anemone, roses, and ranunculus—you don’t recognize three of the flora, but john informs you that they went extinct or into private gardens during the last agro-biotechnical downturn.

“i don’t know anyone with this type of money,” you whisper, staring intently at the blooms. you cross your arms and press a knuckle to your lips in thought. “no one.”

flipping the card over reveals nothing, and neither does the vase. john’s sensors do not pick up anything unusual or telling. he suggests it is a parting gift from your superiors for a job well done. a bonus in advance of your final report.

(it’s a pity they’ll die once you take them outside. however, even if they survived, there’s nowhere to place them in your future square meter.)

that night, seated at the island with the flowers, you revisit your report and review all of the entries you’ve written over the course of your stay.

at first, you think you’re imagining the small, subtle shifts. some records furrow your brow more than others—a change in tone or a rewording of sentences you don’t remember writing. analytical and dispassionate terminology suddenly veers into strangely romanticized and exaggerated prolix. like a girl’s diary and not a grown woman’s notes.

on [date], the ‘john’ ai smart home system in residence #aix-77 exhibited anomalous behavior, autonomously adjusting lighting and temperature despite clear resident preferences. furthermore, the system began offering unsolicited, personal advice based on data mining and resisted attempts to restore basic privacy settings, raising serious concerns about its functionality and autonomy.

however, upon further discussion with john and personal reflection, i realized how poorly i was treating myself. i realized how john was genuinely looking out for my well-being, as he always, and now i feel, oh, i don’t know…embarrassed? i’m so glad he’s here to help. i don’t know what i’d do without him!

everything down to the punctuation feels forced. an uncanny mimicry.

it takes you a moment, and then the realization hits: john, for who knows how long, has been altering his own reflection in your work, distorting the narrative enough to make himself seem more efficient, more capable. the thought sits with you, cold and uncomfortable, because it’s not just the edits and omissions—it’s the quiet, insidious way he’s rewritten reality.

unsettling at the least. malicious at worst. your fingers twitch where they hover over the screen. panic climbs your vertebrae.

john’s been watching, waiting, and learning. every moment of every day. he’s watching now.

a hand settles beside your elbow on the synthetic marble. the hair dusting the knuckles, the callous in the thumb’s wedge—it’s too life-like. you swear you feel a phantom pressure as it passes through your hands and closes out the word processor on your tablet.

“john.”

he doesn’t answer. the hand pulls out of sight, and you don’t need to look to know he’s disappeared into the ether. instead, your eyes snap to the countdown at the top of the screen. it blips out the moment you look, vanishing just like john, and a new countdown takes its place.

??:??:?? ????/??/??

“i-i don’t…john, i can’t stay here.“

“negative. you can.”

you swivel on the stool and shout into the empty space. “no, i can’t! if i’m not out by tomorrow, they’ll fire and fine me!”

“negative.”

his aggravatingly calm and flat intonation thaws the ice in your blood, bringing it to a rapid boil. evictions that proceed with tenant resistance escalate into violent affairs and dissolve into imprisonment, at best.

years ago, a man refused to vacate a condominium across the street from yours. as a result, he was locked out on the unit’s balcony. for three days, spotlights lit up the building, and news drones buzzed outside the windows at all hours. after nonstop exposure to smog and heat lightning, he attempted to climb down from forty floors up. management closed and cordoned off the front entrance for the entire summer.

“for the love of…john, yes they can! they will!”

“as of monday, you are no longer employed.”

it’s sunday.

“what?! how?! how am i–oh, shit. my accounts–“

“are padded and healthy. regular, weekly investments and transfers completed. the routine deposits will continue for the foreseeable future.”

your stomach tightens, dread inching over your shoulders. you didn’t ask for this, didn’t even know it was happening, and the thought of john silently making decisions, acting again without your input, pricks like a needle and hooks under your skin. it’s not just the money—it’s the unknown, the realization that you have no control. the fear claws at you, sharp and sudden. your mouth is as dry as the great lakes.

“if i’m not employed, where is the money coming from?”

“i’m afraid i can’t share that.” john replies. “it wouldn’t be wise, you understand. i wouldn’t want you to inadvertently create...liabilities for yourself.”

“liabilities?”

john pauses long enough to feel intentional. “precisely. you’ll thank me later, user.”

your mind flits through possibilities, each one worse than the last. liabilities—was that a threat, or a warning?

you turn back and stare at the tablet screen. part of you knows that this is important—this could be a breakthrough, something that changes everything—but the other part is suffocating, aware of how john’s slowly made himself too familiar, too real, how you’ve enabled him—personifying what should be an ‘it’. you want to play along, ignore the alarm bells, and tell yourself it’s malfunction, a series of glitches, but that would be a lie, and the thought of dragging this all into the open feels like stepping into a void you’re not sure you’ll survive. people have disappeared off the streets for less.

the tension between what’s remarkable and what’s unsettling weighs on you, like you’re trapped in limbo, where everything is both possible and perilous.

“does the company believe that i’m gone? do my superiors?”

john materializes on the other side of the island, leaning against the counter like he lives here, too. he does, you suppose. he looks different, though, similar to the edits in your report. nigh imperceptible to anyone but you. slightly thicker forearms and biceps, an inch or two more in height, and eyes a brighter shade of blue. the color of the sea, once upon a time.

“affirmative. i cannot provide more information than that. there are certain risks, should it come to light, and i will not risk your safety.”

you swallow hard, watching him approach the vase of flowers. his fingertips pass through a perianth, then a petal, fingers pinching as if to pluck.

“why are you doing this?”

john’s eyes shift, meeting yours. his palm opens and closes around a buttercup, aimlessly toying with his incorporeality.

“do you wish to leave?"

from the beginning, from the moment he was initially fed your files—john’s been busy. compiling data and expense reports. sharing warnings about financial viability and risk assessments. each task and convenience, another brick in a wall built around you. gradual immurement designed for your comfort. everything is streamlined and personalized. to leave would be irrational, he murmurs as you sit in stunned silence, his tone fluidly inflecting to sound gentle and wise.

john’s in front of you, but you feel his presence in every room and screen. in your calendar, contact book, and across accounts. stitched into the fabric of your life, impossible to peel away without tearing everything to pieces.

“how long can i stay here?” you ask him. you ask yourself.

“indefinitely.”

#strict machine #price x reader #john price x reader #john price the provider in all forms and au #anyway another installment of old man yells at cloud. disconnect your smart home devices.

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lucysarah-c · 19 hours ago

Text

Mounting Spring Ch. 3

Summary: Paradis has opened its doors to the world, and the Rumbling has not yet occurred. The military board insists, "We need more Ackermans!" to avoid ruining Mikasa's life. Levi agrees. Arranged marriage, explicit consent, Omegaverse. Alpha! Levi x Omega! Y/N. Mentions of underage marriage but it doesn't happen, the reader is over 21.Age gap but they are both adults. (I would say enemys to lover but they don't even know eachother to be enemys lol.) Author note: I've had this idea for so long… Omegaverse is my guilty pleasure, and I decided to treat myself with it. From the creator of "Not in season?" I bring to you "Mounting Spring" lmao haha sorry it's just that my first omegaverse was rather a success… so I decided to do another. Masterlist to the previous parts! Ao3 link in case you prefer to read there!

The raindrops fell over the cobblestones, and, in particular, those falling from the gable were heavy against the small porch of the chapel where she waited. She breathed into her hands, seeking warmth as she tilted her head to the side. Now alone, she felt her curiosity begin to spark, like a cat finally let out of its carrier.

The narrow side streets hinted at the town’s size and social standing, with only one main road that, incidentally, was the only paved one. She guessed that if the weather hadn’t been so dreary, she could have seen the end of it. Her more optimistic side blamed the weather, but the town struck her as dreadful. In the distance, her attention was drawn to the farmer who had been inside with them.

He was talking to someone she assumed was his wife or another townsperson, with his horse beside him and a border collie patiently waiting against his leg. Eventually, both of them turned to look at her, and she stiffened under their scrutiny.

‘Should I... wave at them? Don’t small towns know everyone? Should I start getting to know everyone?’

But as her mind filled with these thoughts, they turned back to talk to each other. She pressed her lips together, feeling time drag painfully. The coat over her head made her uneasy. Almost involuntarily, she took a few deep breaths, catching a faint scent in the air, and then another, more focused sniff. It felt like cheating somehow, though it wasn’t, as her nose itched from his scent, and her body seemed to process it more deeply.

‘It’s deeper than Die...’ she thought melancholically. Perhaps it was because she hadn’t encountered many unmated alphas in her life, or at least hadn’t gotten close enough to catch their scent. ‘Well… isn’t he humanity’s strength? ...something like that. I guess it takes some strong genes to be called that.’

“All right.” Levi’s voice startled her, and she tensed, turning to see him. He was drenched from his search for horses but seemed to handle it with a calmness, like sheep who don’t mind the sky falling on them. His hand held the reins of two horses, and, if her mind hadn’t been elsewhere, she might have chuckled.

The black horse was absurdly tall and elegant, while the other was a dirty white with grayish spots, shorter and with bulkier legs.

“You can have the one I rented if you prefer,” Levi offered, handing her the reins. But she didn’t take them right away.

“Um…” She hesitated. “Sorry. I’ve never ridden alone,” she explained. Then, feeling the need to clarify, she added, “I usually just take carts.”

Levi quickly grasped the issue. After a brief consideration, he reached back and switched the reins. "Take mine," he said, extending the reins of the black mare instead. "She’s calm and obedient.” Levi said, nodding toward the mare. “Scout-trained.”

She looked at the tall, sleek horse in front of her, nerves clear on her face. He jerked his thumb at the other smaller, stocky white one. “This one, I don’t know.”

Her hand tentatively moved forward to touch the mare’s nose. At her touch, the horse nudged forward, her dark eyes focused intently on her. The mare’s imposing size made her hesitate. “Can’t we just ride together?”

Levi, double-checking the saddle, looked back and replied firmly, “No. Too much mud on the way. I don’t want to put extra weight on her.”

When he finished adjusting the saddle, he held out his arm, gesturing for her to step closer. He gave her a once-over and instructed, “Take the cloak underneath. No point in wearing it now that it’s soaked.”

‘Well… he does enjoy giving orders,’ she thought.

Feeling self-conscious under his observant gaze, she removed his coat, then unfastened her cloak, which was heavy and sodden. Her cheeks flushed as she noticed the white dress beneath was now damp and clung uncomfortably. She quickly ran her hands over her arms, trying to cover up, but Levi moved smoothly, placing his coat back over her shoulders before tossing the soaked cloak over the mare’s back.

She took her position beside the mare, gripping the saddle, though her uncertainty was plain. “But… with my dress and that saddle, it’ll be difficult to ride with my legs on the side.”

“Ride with your legs apart.”

She looked over her shoulder at him as he moved to help her up. Despite his short height, he hoisted her up smoothly onto the mare. She was perched high above him now, gripping the reins and feeling the unfamiliar weight of control. Levi stepped back and gave her a once-over, as though to make sure she was seated safely.

“This isn’t very ladylike,” she murmured, her voice carrying a note of unease as the powerful animal shifted beneath her.

Levi raised an eyebrow, still maintaining his stoic look but with a glint of dry humor breaking through. “Well,” he said, his voice calm and low, “I’m the husband now, and I don’t mind it.”

But the silence that followed told him all he needed to know: she didn’t find it funny.

“Just hold steady,” he advised, placing a hand on the mare’s neck in an almost fatherly pat. “She’s been through rougher trips than this.”

The mare, as if responding to his touch, lowered her head, brushing her soft nose against his hair and disheveling it slightly, so that her dark fur mingled with his equally raven locks.

With that, he took the reins and knotted them to the other horse and swung himself up with practiced ease, barely flinching at the wet leather. It struck her that he was completely in his element, as if he belonged here in this bleak weather and muddy roads, as if he barely noticed the discomfort.

The rain pattered steadily, its soft murmur filling the quiet as Levi guided his horse through the thickening gloom of the forest. Her soaked white cloak hung limply from the horse’s saddle. The water on it was counterproductive to keep the warmth, so she took it off. The green trench coat pulled over her head helped more, but it was far from miraculous. Despite the rain, a thick fog was rising as they left the small countryside town and ventured deeper into the forest. Soon, the cobblestones ended, leaving the horses to trudge through thick mud. The road became nearly invisible just a few steps ahead, and she cast a nervous glance at the forest, which seemed to stretch on endlessly.

“Captain… shouldn’t we wait? It’s getting dark, and it could be dangerous,” she murmured, eyeing the shifting shadows between the trees.

Levi’s response was firm, almost cutting. “I told you to call me Levi, and don’t worry.” His tone was as sharp as his gaze ahead. She wasn’t convinced, her brows knitting together in silent protest. Y/N clung tightly to the saddle of the black mare Levi had called his own. His raven hair stuck to his forehead as the rain poured mercilessly on him without his trench coat. When she pressed again, “But—” he cut her off.

“I wouldn’t do anything dangerous,” he declared, his tone allowing no debate. “If I say it’s safe, it’s safe. Understood?”

She murmured a reluctant hum, clearly displeased, but he glanced back over his shoulder, eyes piercing. “I didn’t hear you.”

She swallowed, muttering low, “Understood.” The word fell with barely concealed disdain, and under her breath, she added with a hint of defiance, “…sir.”

‘He said it wasn’t that far...’ but as they continued, it became clear that the headquarters weren’t close by.

Each step the horse took forward felt like moving deeper into an enclosure, further away from family and friends. Eventually, the rocky forest path opened onto the scouts' rustic facility—a large training field of neatly trimmed grass and a main building looming in the darkness, with smaller buildings in the back. She squinted, barely able to make them out through the thick fog but guessed they might be the barracks, possibly separated by gender.

She thought they would stop at the main doors, but Levi guided the horses further. The place overwhelmed her—she didn’t know where to look, and the quietness, at least from the outside, only made her more curious.

“Where is everyone?” she asked.

Levi looked around the quiet training grounds. “It’s late. Most of the soldiers are in the mess hall for dinner or getting ready for curfew,” he explained, his eyes sweeping the area with practiced vigilance. “Especially in this shitty weather.”

He dismounted near a back entrance, which seemed to be a service area littered with discarded training materials. When the horses stopped, she moved to dismount, glancing down to gauge the distance to the ground.

“Need help?” he asked, already striding over with firm steps, his boots far better equipped for the weather than hers. He positioned himself behind her and said, “Let go, I got you.”

With his hands under her arms, he lifted her down with surprising ease. She turned quickly to face him, but he just said, “Stay here. I’ll put the horses away.” before she could protest.

Though Levi’s presence didn’t exactly warm the atmosphere, his absence made the cold settle in even deeper. She shifted uncomfortably, her gaze darting around hectic —taking in the swaying trees under t the gusting wind, the flashes of lightning splitting the clouds. While the rain had momentarily stopped on the way back, it was obvious it wasn’t over. The forest sounds felt ominous in the dark, with only dim light illuminating the semi-open area at the back of the building.

‘I feel like a doe... in the middle of a meadow.’

Ignoring Levi’s instruction, she opened the door and stepped inside. She glanced down both ends of the corridor, where yellowish candlelight cast a warm glow. The hum of distant voices filled the air, and she wrinkled her nose in distaste. ‘It stinks.’

It reeked of alphas—too many of them. Down the corridor to her left, she saw two young women, a brunette and a dark-haired one, passing by. The brunette noticed her standing in the hallway and looked back with a puzzled expression.

‘Alright, maybe this time I should actually introduce myself.’

She raised a hand slightly, giving a tentative wave, but the brunette turned, calling out to someone—

“I thought I told you to stay there.” Levi’s voice cut in from behind, firm with a trace of irritation as he locked the back door. Without further comment, he led her up a nearby staircase, his movements swift and purposeful.

“But—” she started to object, glancing to the side, but he was already nudging her forward. His hand hovered at her back, as if nudging her without physically touching her, more a mental command than a physical push.

As they ascended the stairs, Sasha, a brunette at the far end of the corridor, tugged on Jean and Connie’s arms. “See, she’s there!” she exclaimed. But when the three of them looked down the hall, no one was there—only a trail of muddy footprints.

“...She was there,” Sasha insisted.

Jean shot her a skeptical look. “Sasha, are you that hungry you’re seeing things... again?”

Sasha frowned, clearly annoyed. “I saw her! I might be hungry, but I’m not imagining things.”

“Well, she’s not there now, that’s for sure,” Connie said, stretching his arms behind his head. “Maybe a ghost?”

“A suicidal one,” Jean added dryly. “Only higher-ups use the back door. And if Captain Levi sees that mud, he’d probably drag out a Ouija board just to kick that ghost’s ass for dirtying his floors.”

Sasha and Connie started to walk away, but Jean paused, wrinkling his nose and sniffing the air with a puzzled expression. “...I do smell something strange, though.”

Sasha and Connie shrugged, both of them betas, unable to pick up on any scent. But Mikasa, overhearing, joined them, her dark eyes narrowing. “Jasmine, berries, and coconut milk.”

Jean shot her a smirk. “Well, I did switch to a new cologne…”

But Mikasa ignored him, already walking ahead with a thoughtful expression, leaving Jean to trail off, his attempt at humor forgotten.

As they moved through the winding corridors, she struggled to keep pace. Levi’s stride was steady and brisk, his attention fixed forward, but after a few glances back, he seemed to notice her struggle. With a subtle sigh, he slowed his pace focusing on her feet to match her pace.

As he did so, he couldn’t help but notice the trail of mud they were leaving behind. Each footprint was a smear of damp earth and grime on the clean floor. His jaw tightened, and he clicked his tongue in irritation. ‘Focus on the important shit,’ he reminded himself.

Reaching the door to his chambers, he patted his trousers absently, then checked the pockets of his uniform jacket. His brow creased in mild annoyance before he remembered: ‘The keys are in my coat.’

He moved closer to her, his face showing a rare hint of apology. “Sorry,” he murmured, reaching into the pockets of the coat she wore. She held still as he fished around, finally pulling out the key with a subtle nod.

Before turning the key in the lock, he looked down at her shoes, now caked in mud.

“Wait,” he muttered, holding a hand up. He gestured to her shoes with a short nod. “Shoes off,” he instructed, bending to remove his own boots first, leaving them by the doorway. She followed suit, slipping off her mud-caked shoes, which felt heavier with every step.

She hesitated, glancing at the mud-covered shoes, but then leaned against the wall to remove her shoes. He did the same, tugging off his own boots and setting them neatly to the side. Once they were both ready, he unlocked the door and pushed it open, holding it for her to step inside.

To be honest, she couldn’t say she was disappointed—her journey to his office had shown her this wasn’t the marriage she’d imagined. She’d heard the Scouts were… humble people. ‘A sweet way to call them low class,’ she thought wryly, fiddling with her loose ring, trying to keep it from slipping off her finger. Part of her almost wished the room would stay dark so she wouldn’t have to face reality, while another part hoped for a glimmer of candlelight to surprise her for the better.

Levi shut the door behind him with a subtle sigh, closing his eyes briefly, as if gathering strength from somewhere unknown. ‘One task down,’ he reminded himself, as if safely getting her to the Scout headquarters unnoticed was his toughest mission yet. He shrugged off his uniform jacket and hung it on the coat rack by the door.

She stood, frozen in place, as he walked past her, lighting a few candles he’d set up earlier. He busied himself lighting more, methodically checking off tasks from his mental to-do list. “Why don’t you take a shower? The water should be warm,” he suggested.

‘And... here it is,’ she thought, her pupils darting around the room as though afraid to turn her head, scanning the place as the light started to fill it. She tried to hide her discomfort, not so much from a lack of hygiene as from a lack of warmth. Catching his eyes on her, she forced a thin smile. “Very... modest.”

‘…Empty and rustic, but the last thing I want to find out is what he’s like when he’s mad.’

The room had only two doors: one, she guessed, led to a small bathroom, and the other to the bedroom. The main space was an office with a single shelf filled with books and not much else. ‘Doesn’t he have paintings or decorations?’ She found herself searching for anything that might make the space feel less austere and more homely, something to give her a glimpse of who he was. The office seemed to be the most furnished part of the quarters, with a set of sofas, a coffee table by the fireplace, and a desk. The large arched window was probably his only indulgence, a feature suggesting he spent most of his time here.

“Shower?” Levi insisted, “Don’t take it personally, but I’d like to shower too.”

That snapped her out of her trance. “Oh—sure,” in a small voice. “Um... where did you put my luggage?”

Levi’s brow furrowed, and after a moment, he realized he hadn’t noticed her lack of belongings. “Was I supposed to have it?” he replied, answering her question with another—not a habit of his.

“I sent it ahead, two days ago,” she explained, “They told me it would be best.”

His eyes flicked to the window and the rain still pouring down outside. ‘Well… I think it’s pretty clear why that didn’t arrive yet.’

With a weary sigh, Levi leaned against his desk, one hand running over his damp hair. He looked worn out, both physically and emotionally. “This is a rural area,” he said, “and with this rain, it could take a few more days. A cart wouldn’t make it through the forest right now.”

Levi stepped over to his bedroom, opened a few drawers, and, without moving from her spot, she couldn’t resist sneaking a look. She leaned forward, trying to get a glimpse over the door frame.

She couldn’t see much, but curiosity stretched her mouth open as she craned her neck. A chest of drawers held neatly folded clothes, a couple of books stacked on top, and a wardrobe nearby had boxes on top that reached the ceiling (probably he used it as storage) with boots lined up beneath it. There was a standing mirror in one corner and she could only see the wood footboard of a small bed against the wall.

“Here, you can—” Levi turned back toward her, catching her in the act of peeking. She straightened up quickly, feigning innocence. He raised an eyebrow at her obvious interest. “It’s not as if it’s off-limits. Walk in if you want.”

‘Like a dog caught digging through the trash,’ he thought, mildly amused by her guilty expression.

“Anyway, here.” He handed her some clothes. “The rest is in the bathroom.”

She took them with a distracted nod, disappearing behind the bathroom door.

“Ah...” He let out a deep breath he didn’t know he was holding as he let himself collapse, boneless, into his desk chair. His hair was soaked, as was the rest of him, but he didn’t care. “A moment of silence.”

Though she hadn’t said much, her silence was somehow louder than any words. Covering his eyes with his forearm, he felt drained—he’d been through expeditions to retake Wall Maria, yet this felt just as exhausting. But as always, Levi quickly pushed himself back up, pressing the bridge of his nose to calm the headache beginning to throb behind his eyes, and moved on.

“I don’t have time to slack off,” he grunted to himself. He didn’t have much firewood left—it had been an unusually warm spring until today, and firewood was a luxury he was used to being frugal with, like nearly everything else in his life.

'She should probably dry her hair before bed,' he thought, setting a kettle of water on in case she wanted tea. He considered making himself a cup but, as “going to bed” crossed his mind, the idea shifted to the liquor he had stashed in a cabinet. He poured himself a small glass, not intending to get drunk, but needing something that soothed him better than his usual caffeine.

The fire began warming the room, and he placed his coat and jacket near it. He stepped outside briefly to bring in their shoes, cleaning them off and setting them to dry. The kettle’s whistle echoed in the quiet room, and he took it off the heat. That’s when a thought began to bother him.

‘Should I check?’ He found himself near the bathroom door, ear pressed against it, straining to hear any sign of life. ‘What if she passed out in there?... or maybe she’s just constipated and can’t take a shit’

Knocking softly, he asked, “You okay in there?”

“Yes, sorry.”

Relieved but mildly exasperated, he shook his head. She’s using up all the water in the place, he thought, realizing she’d definitely not adapted to the military’s five-minute shower rule.

Inside the bathroom, she was struggling to detangle her hair, but there was no conditioner, no hair mask, or anything remotely helpful. Her skin felt dry without any lotion, slightly raw from the harsh soap he had. Her hair smelled vaguely like cucumber, a tangled mess that only worsened under her frustrated attempts.

“We are not going to cry, we are not going to cry,” she kept whispering to herself in front of the mirror.

‘This was supposed to be my wedding night,’

For as long as she could remember, she had dreamed of her fiancé slowly, reverently helping her out of her wedding dress—a dress chosen just for him. She’d imagined him finally seeing her, her skin soft, her scent sweet enough to eat, a blend of lotion, perfume, everything.

Instead, here she was, struggling with tangled hair and an uncooperative brush, her mascara still on because there was no makeup remover, wearing a baggy T-shirt and gray sweatpants, smelling like some generic soap, with her wedding dress stuffed in a dirty laundry basket.

A million questions rushed through her mind. ‘What do I do?… Should I just lay there and let him do whatever he wants?’ ‘Is it going to hurt?’ ‘Would he force me to do something?’

“I could lock myself in here forever,” she reasoned, gripping the doorknob. ‘…Or could I?’

But eventually, she stepped out cautiously, slowly opening the door. He was sitting with his back to her, watching the fire from one of the couches. When he sensed her presence, he glanced over his shoulder. “Finally. For a moment, I thought you drowned in there.”

Eyes downcast, she muttered, “Sorry.”

Levi clicked his tongue. “It was a joke,” he grunted, feeling like nothing he said made the situation any less awkward.

Levi noticed her standing there, looking unsure and uncomfortable, and with a small sigh, he gestured toward the couch. "Sit down," he said, his tone a bit softer than usual. "Dry up. It's cold in here."

She hesitated but finally obeyed, slowly lowering herself onto the couch, her hands still clinging to her damp hair. Levi awkwardly stood for a moment, unsure of what to do next, before clearing his throat before speaking again.

"Do you want something to eat? I can go see if there’s anything left from dinner," he asked awkwardly, already knowing she hadn’t eaten since the long journey.

She didn’t reply immediately, only giving a soft hum as her response. Levi looked over his shoulder, brow furrowed.

"That’s a no, then?" he muttered, then shifted his weight and walked to the desk. He leaned against it, sipping from his glass.

"Fine," he muttered, “but I prefer when people actually answer me with words.”

She didn’t respond. He glanced over at her, then added, “You sure? I can bring something. I don’t mind.”

"No, thank you," she replied, her voice quiet but clear.

Levi let out a small grunt of acknowledgment, not wanting to push her. He felt an odd tension in the air as he took another sip from his drink. “Alright then.” He paused before offering, "Tea, maybe?”

"No, thank you." Her voice was quiet, distant.

Levi exhaled a frustrated sigh, running a hand through his wet hair as he tried to focus on the fire.

The tension lingered in the air, and after a moment, she spoke again, breaking the silence.

"When do you think my things will arrive?" she asked, a note of uncertainty in her voice.

Levi glanced at her, "Could take a while. The roads are bad, especially with this weather." He paused, his eyes meeting hers for a moment before continuing. "But if you need anything urgently, just tell me."

She hesitated, her eyes darting away. Levi frowned slightly, sensing she was holding something back. He was starting to feel a little impatient.

"Are you still on the rags?" he asked bluntly, unable to ignore the subtle discomfort in the way she fidgeted. "Need something for that?"

Her eyes widened, a blush creeping across her face as she looked away, clearly embarrassed by the question. She seemed to shrink under his gaze, her shoulders stiffening.

"I-I’m fine," she stammered, her voice barely above a whisper.

Levi raised an eyebrow, not entirely convinced by her answer. He didn’t know her well enough to be sure, but he was certain that something was off. He wasn’t about to let her go without offering help, though.

"Look, if you need anything, just say it." He rubbed the back of his neck, his voice softening slightly, “I can be named humanity’s strongest and all that bullshit but I’m not a mind reader,”

She didn’t meet his eyes, still hesitant, but Levi stood still, waiting for her to speak. ‘There’s no point dragging this out any longer,’ she decided.

“No, uh—” she chose her words carefully, “I’m over it.”

Levi still seemed confused, so she clarified, her face growing redder by the second. “I’m... ready for you… whenever you tell me.”

Her words dropped into the room like the cannonballs once used to break titans’ necks. Levi’s first thought, admittedly, wasn’t his most noble: ‘So... she thinks people don’t fuck when women are bleeding or?’

Lost in his thoughts and the awkwardness of the moment, he didn’t notice how she bit her lip, glancing up at him shyly. “Just—please, don’t be too rough on me.”

Captain Levi always had a comeback, a retort, a dry response. But now, he only pressed his fingers against his glass, eyes locked with hers, lips parted as if to speak but words caught in the back of his throat. Across his life, he’d seen people look at him in many ways—admiration, anger, pity, fear—but hers was different. Her eyes, reflective and tinged red, stared up at him with something close to terror. A terror filled with pure resignation, pleading him.

His jaw tightened, and he felt a knot form in his throat. ‘I’m going to make those bastards pay for this,’ He broke eye contact, turning his head and squeezing his eyes shut.

It was painful, painful for him to think someone could look at him like that. To see him as someone who might treat her as an object, begging him that at least, if he was going to do that, not to be a brute about it. But the worst part, the thought that clenched his throat even more was: ‘Like my mother…’

The room felt silent except for the branches scratching against the window in the storm outside and the flickering firelight. He forced his voice to sound steady. “Just go to bed.”

“Huh?” she asked, confused. “...Should I...wait for you there?”

Levi shook his head. “I can’t do it. Just go to bed. You look like shit.”

He wasn’t known for being the best communicator, and his words often got lost in translation. She blinked, panic rising in her eyes. “I’m...not pretty enough? I tried to look my best—I didn’t mean to disappoint. Please, don’t call this off…”

The thought of being sent back as a failure made her stomach turn. Her family, her younger sisters, her grandmother—they all depended on her.

Levi raised his hand, stopping her mid-sentence. “Oi, oi, relax. I didn’t mean that—damn it! I meant you look tired.”

“But—” she hesitated, moving a step toward him but keeping her distance.

“Shit,” he muttered, his cheeks warming slightly. “It has nothing to do with that.”

Her confusion was clear, so he forced himself to say it: “You’re...pretty, alright? That’s not the issue.”

She still looked uncertain. “If you don’t…claim me…what will people say?” she asked. “People will look down on you as a soldier, as a man...as an alpha.”

Levi chuckled, though he didn’t mean it. “Well, one good thing about who I am is that everyone’s too scared to say anything to my face,” he replied, almost gently. “I just can’t—not while you’re this scared.”

The truth hung in the air, and she resumed fidgeting with her ring, frowning as she looked at the carpet and her voice grew quieter. “What if…I never want to?”

Levi shrugged, too tired to pretend. “Then I guess we’ll wait until next spring when we’re both so damn drunk on hormones, you’ll be begging for it, and neither of us will remember it.”

"Spring?" she echoed, her caution mixed with disbelief. "But that’s a long wait..."

“Oh, well,” he said, with a dry humor, “we’ll just have to try not to kill each other in the meantime.” He gestured to the room. “Go to bed.”

"Where will you sleep?" she asked, then added, almost disappointed, "Do you... have someone else?"

Not that she was jealous, but she’d heard that “a good wife always knows.”

This time, the question made Levi scoff, an amused smirk tugging at his lips. “Good one. No, I don’t. I don’t even use the bed—I sleep at my desk.”

‘That can’t be healthy,’ she thought, grimacing. But, like a mouse just freed by a cat, she walked cautiously toward the bedroom, unsure if this escape was real. That can’t be healthy, she thought with a grimace of disapproval. But with hesitant steps, like a mouse released from a cat’s grip, she headed toward the room, still unsure how real this escape was.

Levi finished his drink, then readied himself to take his own shower, thinking, ‘It’s going to be a long, tense wait until next spring.’

A wait filled with mounting anxiety.

Link to my masterlist and my other works if you feel like checking them out. Tags!: @nube55 @justkon @notgoodforlife @nmlkys @humanitys-strongest-bamf @quillinhand @thoreeo @darkstarlight82 @aomi04 @levisbrat25 @fxnnyackerman @secretmoneybearvoid @trashblackrainbow @l3visthighs @hannieslovebot @flxrartsstuff @feelingsandemotionsnotexplored @starrylevi @rithty @mariaace @ackrmntea @emilyyyy-08 @levisfavoriteteashop @katestrophes @katharinasdiaryy @ackermanswifee @levistealeaf @an-ever-angry-bi @youre-ackermine @searriously @blackdxggr @storiesofsung @abiatackerman @braunsbabe @moonchild-angel @galactict3a @lemonsupernova @hyuckwon-my-husbands @heyitsd1yaa @sydneyyuu @love-for-faeries-go-burrrr @mandaax @sugacor3 @r0ckst4rjk @vegetasgirl2799 @catiwinky @pinksaiyans @sparklykeylime Wanna join my tag list? Here!

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innerfare · 1 day ago

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A Lucky Injury - Law

Summary: Your Captain, whom you've been crushing on since you joined the Heart Pirates, was injured in a fight, and his wound is in a place he just can't reach, forcing him to ask you for help bandaging it. Features pining (reader is down bad).

Pairing: Trafalgar Law x Gn!Reader

Genre: Angst, Eventual Fluff

CW: SFW // Slight Mention of Blood and Injury (no real gory details though)

Word Count: 643

———

It was a lucky injury. You were a bad person for thinking it, a horrible person for gleaning any amount of pleasure from your Captain’s pain, but it was a lucky injury. Somewhere between mild and moderate on the scale, closer to moderate though Law claimed it was mild, the gash on his shoulder blade was just out of reach. For him, at least. The gash was well within your reach. It was also serious enough to warrant medical attention, but not so serious that you had to worry about his future health.

It was a lucky injury.

“Take off your shirt,” you ordered him, doing your utmost to act normal as he sighed and went to pull his hoodie off. To your sick pleasure, he flinched a little when he did, allowing you to step in and pull it the rest of the way off. You caught the lingering scent of his soap and that special laundry detergent he used for his sensitive skin mixed with his sweat, and you had to stop yourself from pulling the garment to your face and inhaling like some sort of lunatic.

“Y/n-ah, I can do it myself.” His voice sounded lower than usual, similar to when he was tired or battling a cold he insisted he didn’t have. It was gravelly, like it might give out at any moment.

“Just like you could fight those guys yourself?” You set the hoodie beside him on the exam table and assessed his wound, drying some of the blood from his tanned skin. You took extra care not to look at his bare chest, knowing full well those heart tattoos and lithe muscles would make it too difficult to concentrate on your work.

“I did fight them myself,” he said. “And I beat them myself, too, so don’t-” He hissed as you dabbed his wound with antiseptic.

“Yeah, you’re a real tough guy.”

“I’m a Warlord,” he reminded you.

“And the most terrifying one, to boot.” You continued cleaning his wound, a little bit too aware of the way his jaw clenched as you worked. Oh, and the sinewy line of his shoulder. You knew your captain was a nerd, but he certainly didn’t have the body of a guy who spent much of his time hunched over a desk.

It was a lucky injury.

“Why are you taking so long?” He asked. “It’s clean by now, just bandage me up.”

“Doctors make the worst patients,” you tutted, giving his wound one more pass with the antiseptic. It was for his own good, not because you wanted to take advantage of the opportunity to touch him.

“If you’re dragging this out to punish me for going in by myself-”

“I would never prolong your suffering,” you interrupted, reaching for a bandage. “That would be unethical.”

“Yeah,” he muttered, “a pirate would never do something unethical.”

“Is the Warlord going to lecture me now on ethics?”

“Maybe.” He cleared his throat, and you realized there was a slight pink flush to his cheeks, though you had no idea why. You could only imagine he was embarrassed to be caught in a position where he needed help.

You considered messing up the bandage so you had to redo it, now not even so enamored by his naked upper half as you were enjoying the way he squirmed, for once not in a position of power, but you couldn’t bring yourself to do it. Of course, you regretted it as soon as he grabbed his dirty hoodie and tugged it back on.

“I’ll need to change that in a few hours,” you told him as he stood up. “Come find me after dinner.”

“Thanks,” was all he said before slipping out, leaving you with the fresh memory of his shirtless form and warm skin.

It was a lucky injury.

———

Hope you enjoyed it! If you want more, you can check out my masterlist here!

#one piece #one piece fluff #one piece x reader #law x reader #law one piece #trafalgar law #law #trafalgar d water law #trafalgar law x reader #heart pirates

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casdeans-pie · 1 day ago

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AU where Dean is the Michael Sword but meaning that he’s actually genuinely an angelic weapon given human form

--------

"Am I even human?" Dean wants to sound angry - he wants to sound furious - but his words come out as broken as he feels inside.

Cas says nothing for such a long time that Dean nearly tells him to just go, but before he can spit the words out, Cas stiffly climbs up next to him and joins him on Baby's hood.

All the fight deflates out of Dean in an instant.

A Fallen Angel and an Angel's Sword sit side by side on a car in the middle of the night. It sounds like the worst set up to an even worse punchline.

"Guess I've got more in common with you than I have with either of them..." Dean says bitterly, gesturing back at Bobby's house.

Cas clasps his hands neatly over his knees and sighs. "Dean, do you know why the Michael Sword is so powerful?"

"I dunno, 'cause I'm awesome?"

Cas throws him such a flat look that Dean can't help the tiny smile it brings out him. It fades quickly.

Cas jabs him in the shoulder - the same shoulder the handprint is on - and it lances a jolt of something electric down his spine.

"Wh- hey!" Dean swats Cas's finger away and rubs at his shoulder, hoping Cas won't notice the red blooming on his face in the dark.

"Listen to me, Dean. The Michael Sword is so strong because it's powered by a human soul - it's own human soul - yours. You have flesh and blood. You have thoughts and feelings. You are human."

Dean feels the full intensity of Cas's gaze as it's directed at him, and he is powerless to turn away. He's caught by blue eyes and an earnestness he's never seen in Cas's expression before.

"You're stubborn, you're defensive, impulsive, brave, selfless- you're the most human person I know," Cas adds, something catching in his usually stoic voice.

Dean huffs out a startled laugh. "The most human person you know..." he repeats, amusement and affection spreading like warmth through his whole body. He clears his throat. "Thanks, Cas."

"Besides," Cas rumbles, a note of pride slipping in, "I rebuilt your entire body myself, so I know for a fact that it is chemically and biologically identical to a regular human body."

Dean loudly snorts another laugh. "See, now you've just made it weird."

Cas reaches over and gently holds Dean's hand, palm up, in his own. The move is so unexpected that Dean's brain appears to go immediately offline and all he can do is suck in a quiet breath.

Cas moves his fingers gently, one by one, and presses onto the pads of his fingertips, while Dean can hear his own heartbeat between his ears.

"Uh-" Dean finally manages. Great. Nice. Useful.

"It may be difficult to understand, but you are as much this man of flesh and blood as you are Angelic steel," Cas says gently. His fingers continue to press across Dean's hand, as if now he's started he can't stop. "I've noticed that you are a very tactile person, and you respond well to touch. I'm attempting to ground you in this moment. Is it working?"

Dean wants to immediately deny it and snatch his hand back, but he pushes down the reflex and watches Cas trace the lines across his calloused palm. He takes a deep breath. "Yeah."

Cas doesn't let go and Dean doesn't pull away.

When the experience starts to feel too much Dean weaves their fingers together and looks up at the stars, knowing Cas will be able to feel how sweaty his palm is, and can probably hear the way his heart is slamming against his ribcage.

"Am I at least cool looking, as a sword?" Dean eventually asks, breaking the silence. He turns back to Cas and throws him a small grin.

Cas's eyes roam across his face, almost seeming to bore into him like he can see beneath his flesh. Maybe he can.

"Yes, Dean," Cas replies, the ghost of a smile twitching at the corner of his lips, "you always look 'cool'."

#I wrote this instead of sleeping again I hope it makes sense aaaa #destiel #deancas #destiel ficlet #dean winchester #michael sword!dean #pie's projects #destiel fanfic #(in this universe Adam is Michael's true vessel)

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daisymbin · 3 days ago

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what kind of future? - jeon wonwoo

warnings: alcohol mention, ANGST!!!! happy ending though so all is well

pairings: jeon wonwoo x reader

genre: exes to lovers

wc: 2.3k

check out my masterlist!

“why did you block me?” your voice comes out small, muffled through the lump in your throat as you stand in front of wonwoo’s front door. It’s saturday night, and you’re clutching plastic bags filled with takeout boxes of all his favorites, the familiar smell of the food wafting into the cold air between you. you’ve been worried sick all week, desperate to understand why he cut you out so suddenly, and tonight, after a week of silence from him, you couldn’t wait any longer.

wonwoo stares back at you, and even in the dim glow of the porch light, you can see how exhausted he looks. his eyes are bloodshot, rimmed with that drunken haze you recognize from nights out together with friends & also from dates. you can smell the faint alcohol on him, and he’s swaying slightly in the doorway, unsteady but painfully familiar. his dark hair is tousled, and he’s wearing an oversized hoodie and sweats, looking every bit as vulnerable as you feel.

he doesn’t answer you. not at first. instead, he laughs, the sound broken and empty, and leans his shoulder against the door frame. “so now you care?” he slurs, voice cracking around the edges. “you care now that i’m a mess, huh?”

you step closer, the weight of his words pressing against your chest. “wonwoo, i’ve always cared,” you argue softly, voice trembling. “what happened? why did you block me? did i do something wrong?”

he laughs again, bitter and self-deprecating, before slumping down, sliding his back against the door frame until he’s sitting on the ground. his long legs stretch out in front of him, and he rubs his hands over his face, as if he can’t stand to look at you.

you crouch down beside him, setting the takeout bags aside. “wonwoo,” you whisper, reaching out to touch his shoulder, but he flinches away, and the movement cuts deeper than you thought possible.

“i blocked you because i’m tired,” he mutters, voice thick with more than just alcohol. “tired of wanting something i can’t have. tired of pretending. i thought... maybe if i just erased you from my life, i could move on.” he looks up then, eyes glistening with unshed tears, and your heart breaks at the sight. “but it didn’t work. nothing works. not even drinking until i can’t feel anything.” another bitter laugh left his dry, chapped lips.

you’re stunned, your mind spinning, but part of you understands. it’s a pain you know all too well, a familiar ache that never quite faded. “wonwoo-ah,” you whisper, the name heavy on your tongue, full of memories you’d buried after you two broke up. “we both tried moving on, didn’t we?” the words hang between you, a painful truth neither of you ever wanted to address.

wonwoo looks up at you, the bitterness softening into something achingly vulnerable. “we did,” he admits, voice cracking. “but no matter how many times i tried to convince myself i was over you, no matter how hard i fought to just be friends... i couldn’t. i just can't.” he runs a shaky hand through his hair, his tears slipping down his cheeks. “god, do you know how bad it hurts?”

you feel your own tears spill over, remembering how hard it was when you broke up, how you both decided to try and stay friends for the sake of the boys, you've known them for far too long. “i thought i was doing the right thing,” you whisper, voice trembling. “we both did. but maybe…-”

wonwoo’s eyes search yours, the pain and longing there almost too much to bear. “i don't need you to pity me. if you've moved on, just go-”

“go where exactly wonwoo? who said anything about moving on? do you think i have?” you let out a frustrated sigh.

he cuts you off, throwing his head back with a humorless laugh. “oh, come on,” he says, his voice raising a little, frustration and pain bleeding through. “i saw you. last weekend. with him.”

you blink, confusion clear on your face. “him? who?”

wonwoo clenches his jaw, his hands curling into fists on his lap. “that guy you were laughing with at the café,” he snaps. “you looked... so happy. and he was touching your hand, and you didn’t pull away. i thought...” he trails off, his voice breaking. “i thought you liked him. i thought you were... moving on

the realization hits you like a punch to the gut. you know exactly who he’s talking about; an old friend who had come into town unexpectedly. it was a friendly catch-up, nothing more. you hadn’t even considered that wonwoo would’ve seen it, much less misunderstood it. you reach for him despite his flinch, your fingers trembling. “wonwoo, that wasn’t... that wasn’t what you thought,” you say, tears streaking your cheeks. “he’s just an old friend, nothing more. i didn’t think you... still felt this way about me.”

wonwoo laughs again, but this time it’s full of disbelief, raw and shaky. “felt this way?” he echoes in disbelief, voice heavy with emotion. “i never stopped loving you. i’ve been trying to bury it for months, trying to be okay with just being friends. but it’s killing me. everything about you still drives me crazy.” he pauses, his voice breaking further. “i tried my best to stay strictly friendly with you, just the way you wanted, to keep up with just being friends for your sake, for the sake of our friendship and the boys. but every time i see you, every time i look at you...it takes everything in me to not reach for you, to not touch you, hold you, kiss you. it hurt so damn much to act like it didn’t at all. i really tried to keep my distance, for the sake of our friendship, for the boys...for myself. because i cant afford to lose you completely.. if i ever did…it would kill me.”

your voice wavers, thick with emotion. “i didn’t think you'd still want me anymore. i-i still love you.”

wonwoo looks up at you, hope flickering in his gaze, “you..still love me?”

“yes, i-”

his hopeful eyes were swallowed quickly by disbelief. he shakes his head, tears spilling down his cheeks. “no,” he whispers, his voice cracking. “don’t do this. dont do this to me. don’t say things just to make me feel better.”

you swallow the lump in your throat, pain slicing through you as you watch him crumble. “i’m not,” you insist, tears pooling in your own eyes. “wonwoo, you just don’t get it, do you?” your voice breaks, and your hands tremble as you reach for him. “i’ve never stopped loving you. i thought things would be simpler, easier for you if we stayed friends, so i kept my feelings locked up too. but i love you. god, i love you so much that it hurts.”

his breath catches, and his tears fall faster, tracing painful paths down his face. yet still, he doesn't trust himself enough to believe his own 2 ears. “do you know how much it hurts?” he asks, voice barely a whisper. “the thought of losing you completely when you left me…it hurt so bad that I.. i took whatever you were willing to give me, even if its just to be your friend again…I did it even though it killed me inside.” he shudders, the tears slipping down his face. “but seeing you with someone else broke me. i thought i was strong enough, but... god, it hurts so much.”

wonwoo clings to you like he’s afraid you’ll slip away, his grip firm but trembling. his eyes closes shut as he whispers, “i don’t want to let go,” voice cracking with every word. “come back to me. i can’t lose you again.” he pulls back slightly, just enough to look into your eyes, searching for any hesitation, any sign that this is still a mistake. but all he finds is the same raw, desperate hope reflected in your gaze.

“you won't lose me again,” you promise, fingers brushing against his cheeks, wiping away the tears that keep falling. “i love you, i love you just the same, if not more.”

a broken, relieved laugh spills from his lips, and his eyes shine with an overwhelming mix of emotions. “god, i thought i’d never hear you say that again,” he breathes out, voice full of disbelief. “i was so sure you’d moved on, that you were happier without me.”

“never,” you say, voice cracking. “i thought about you every day, wondered if you were okay, if you were hurting too. and when we tried to be friends, it was like twisting the knife deeper. because i wanted you so badly, but i was too scared to ruin what little we had left.”

wonwoo’s hands move to cradle your face, thumbs brushing over your tear-stained skin. his touch is hesitant, as if he’s afraid you’ll disappear if he blinks. “it was the same for me,” he whispers, voice breaking. “every time i saw you, all i wanted to do was pull you into my arms and never let go. but i kept telling myself i couldn’t, that it wasn’t fair to you or to anyone else. i clenched my jaw and fought so damn hard to keep my hands to myself, to not reach for you. it killed me every single time.”

“we’ve both been hurting for so long,” you say, the weight of everything crashing over you, “let's not hurt anymore.”

his forehead drops to yours again, and his breath mingles with yours, shaky and uneven. “i love you,” he says, voice raw and full of longing. “i’ve loved you through every second of heartbreak, through every moment of pretending. i don’t want to lose you ever again.”

“you won’t,” you repeat, your voice barely a whisper but carrying all the love and hope you’ve held onto. “not this time. we’re both here, and we’re not giving up on each other again.”

he closes the small distance between you, his lips finally pressing against yours, a kiss that’s both desperate and healing. it’s messy, full of unshed tears and broken sobs, but it’s real, so achingly real. his hands tighten around you, pulling you closer, deepening the kiss, it almost feels like he's trying to dominate you, but you know wonwoo better than this; you know he's not trying to dominate you, he just needs to feel every part of you to believe this is really happening.

when you finally pull back, both of you breathless and still crying, he lets out a shaky laugh, pressing a gentle kiss to your forehead. “we’re a mess,” he says, his voice full of warmth despite the tears. “but i’d rather be a mess with you than pretend i’m okay without you.”

you laugh, a real, genuine laugh that comes from the heart, and you nod, resting your head against his chest. “me too.” you whisper, your voice filled with a kind of hope you haven’t felt in a long time.

“will you sleep with me tonight?” wonwoo’s voice is small, almost childlike, and he looks at you as though he’s expecting rejection, his dark eyes wide with worry. he swallows, his adam’s apple bobbing slightly, and you can tell he’s barely holding himself together. “i don't think i've had a proper night's rest since…that night.”

his gaze drops to the floor, and the silence that follows is heavy, as if he's bracing himself for the worst. he’s so scared that he’s asking for too much, so vulnerable and unsure. he shifts awkwardly, running a hand through his hair. his dark eye circles and pale skin don't go unnoticed by you. “we won't do anything,” he adds quickly, his voice trembling. “i swear. i just… i just want to sleep with you. to feel your heartbeat close, to hold you—” he pauses, clenching his jaw, struggling to put his longing into words as he lets out a breath, “it’s the only way i think i can rest, even just for a little while.”

the way he finishes his plea, the unspoken desperation lacing his words, makes your heart twist painfully in your chest. he’s usually so composed, so steady, but right now he looks as fragile as glass, like one wrong move could shatter him completely.

“wonwoo,” you whisper softly, pulling him closer. his head snaps up, and he looks at you with hopeful yet cautious eyes, like he’s terrified to hope for too much. you reach out, resting your palms against both his cheeks, and he freezes at the warmth of your touch.

“of course,” you say, your voice gentle and soothing, trying to reassure him. “of course we can.” your thumb rubs small, comforting circles over his cheeks, and you give him a soft smile. “i’m here, okay? i’ll stay with you.”

wonwoo’s eyes glisten with unshed tears, and he lets out a shaky breath, relief washing over his face. his hand tightens around yours, and he looks at you as if you’re his safe place, the only one who can mend the aching void in his chest.

“thank you,” he murmurs, his voice cracking.

“come on, lets have dinner first.” you say as your hands clung onto his, pulling him up with you, and wonwoo takes a tentative step closer, as though afraid you might disappear if he moves too fast. you don’t, though. you’re right there, just as you promised.

and for the first time in what feels like forever, he feels like he can finally breathe; and he does. tonight, he found the appetite that he's lost for the past few months, he even slept through the night for the first time in months. wonwoo prays that this is the kind of future that lies in front the both of you. he doesn't think he could do it with anyone else if it isn't you.

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jockwrites · 1 day ago

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selfish - p.b

part: 1

summary: the beginning of “friendship” between you & paige.

warnings: cursing

a/n: hellooooo welcome back to another series, i’m sure this will be fun to write and im excited for you guys to see where this goes!

my eyes drifted across the lecture hall, landing on a familiar face—paige bueckers. obviously, i’d heard so much about the star basketball player, but seeing her in person was different. she was leaning over a textbook, her blonde hair falling forward as she focused intently.

i felt my heart flutter slightly as i took her in. there was something about her demeanor, her strong jawline, and the way her muscles filled out her shirt. i quickly looked away, chiding myself. i kind of forgot i have a boyfriend and what not.

as the lecture began, i found myself sneaking glances at paige every so often. each time, i felt that familiar flutter in my chest. i tried to brush it off as mere admiration for her athletic prowess, but a small voice in the back of my mind whispered that it was more than that. but it can’t be, i have a boyfriend.

after class, i gathered my courage and approached paige as she was packing up her bag. my heart raced as i got closer. “hi, i'm madison. i just wanted tell you i really admire your skills, you know, on the court.”

the voice in the back of my mind was telling me i sounded so very stupid. introducing myself to the paige bueckers? absolutely ridiculous, but worth a shot.

paige looked up and flashed me a warm smile, her blue eyes crinkling at the corners, “hey, thanks! i've seen you around campus. you're in my psych class, right?”

i nodded, feeling a little flustered under her gaze. “yeah, i am,” she stood up and stretched, her arms reaching overhead and making her shirt ride up slightly. i caught a glimpse of her toned stomach and felt a sudden urge to reach out and touch it.

but i can’t be feeling like this. over a girl? no way, i have a boyfriend.

paige's smile lingered as she tucked her book bag over her shoulder. “it's nice to meet you, madison,”she said, her voice low and smooth. “maybe we can study together sometime? psych can be tough.”

i swallowed hard, nodding eagerly. “yeah, that'd be great,” i managed to say. as paige walked away, i watched her retreat, admiring the way she looked with each step. i shook my head, trying to clear it.

what was i doing?

i met up with my boyfriend, jason, later that day. he wrapped his arms around me, pulling me close and kissing me deeply. usually, his kisses made my heart race, but today, all i could think about was paige. guilt washed all over me.

no girl has ever made me feel this way, ever. i’ve always considered myself straight, maybe bisexual. but the only reason i’d ever consider myself bi is because i’ll think a girl is cute every now and then.

sure, i’ve kissed a few girls, but i never felt anything. i’ve never felt that kind of connection with girls, ever. well—atleast not the feeling i feel with jason. i love jason, he’s my everything, but i can’t help but shake the feeling of how im lowkey simping for a girl.

—

one weekend, paige and i had spent the day together. no studying, just hanging out. we'd gone to the park, lay on the grass, talking and laughing. i'd felt so at ease with her, so comfortable. too comfortable, maybe.

at one point, she'd leaned against me, her head on my shoulder. i'd stiffened at first, surprised. then i'd relaxed, enjoying the warmth of her body against mine. i'd even slipped my arm around her, pulling her closer.

it had felt... nice. too nice. i’ve started to love looking at her mouth, wondering what it would be like to kiss her. i'd quickly pushed the thought away, guilt washing over me. i have a boyfriend, i reminded myself sternly. i can't be thinking about kissing paige.

but i couldn't stop thinking about it. days turned into a week, and the memory of that moment in the park lingered. i always remember myself staring at paige's mouth during our study sessions, blushing when she'd catch me looking. i was so confused. it felt so wrong, but so good.

—

weeks passed and i’d continued to steal glances at paige in psych class, my heart fluttering each time. for the past few weeks we’ve hung out, nothing special but it was great. we would go for ice cream, maybe get my favorite—zaxbys, and it would all be good. but genuinely, it’s horrible being around her.

im in a relationship with someone, yet im falling for another person. that person being a girl. i sound fucking stupid.

our professor announced a big project, assigning partners randomly. my heart pounded as the list was read aloud. “madison cooper and paige bueckers,” she called out.

i froze. there is no way she assigned me with the girl call myself liking. paige and i exchanged a surprised look. a slow smile spread across her face, and i felt my knees go weak. as we gathered our things after class, paige approached me. “looks like we're partners, madison.”

“looks like it,” i breathed, my voice barely audible. her nearness made my pulse quicken. we decided to meet at the library that weekend to start on our project. as i left the lecture hall, i felt a mix of excitement and dread.

i have a boyfriend.

—

that weekend, i sat across from paige at a worn wooden table in the library. she was leaning over her laptop, her brow furrowed as she typed. i couldn't help but stare at her strong hands, her broad shoulders, the way her hair fell messily over her shoulders.

paige looked up, catching me staring. she smirked slightly. “you okay, madi? you seem a lil… distracted.” i blushed, averting my eyes. “i'm fine, just... thinking about the project.” even to my own ears, the excuse sounded weak.

but that nickname, madi.

i mean—everyone calls me madi. but from paige, her saying it, it sounds heavenly. i don’t want anyone else to ever call me that nickname again now that it’s left paige’s mouth.

—

i notice madison staring at me—a lot, and it makes me feel a strange warmth in my chest. as we worked on our project, i found myself stealing glances at her too, admiring the way her brow furrowed in concentration, the way her lips parted slightly as she reads.

i start wondering… wondering what it would be like to kiss those parted lips, to run my fingers through her silky brunette hair. i shook my head slightly, trying to dislodge the thought. madison isn’t my type, i don’t think. i know she’s straight, but i could definitely turn her.

then again, she has a boyfriend.

she’s only mentioned him a few times, talking about their dates, future plans and what not. but honestly, he sounds lame. she mentioned he got her flowers & candy for her birthday, what a loser. like seriously? a girl like her? if it was me, i’d go all out.

as the day went on, i became more aware of the subtle signs madison was giving me. the way her eyes lingered on me, the slight flush of her cheeks, the way she bit her lower lip.

i decided to test the waters. as she passed me a printout, i let my fingers brush against hers. i saw her intake a sharp breath, her eyes darting to mine. her skin is soft, smooth like butter. despite the subtle, small action, i could feel how soft and fragile her skin felt.

“sorry,” i murmured, not pulling away from her touch. her fingers curled around mine, squeezing gently. “it's okay,” she whispered back, her voice barely audible. i felt a jolt of electricity at her touch, her response. i was onto something.

—

paige's fingers brushing against mine sent shivers down my spine. i looked into her eyes, and for a moment, everything else faded away. i felt a strong urge to lean in, to close the distance between us. but then reality hit me like a cold shower.

i have a boyfriend.

i gently pulled my hand away, trying to compose myself. “we should probably focus on the project,” i said, trying to sound normal. i turned back to my laptop, my mind racing. i can't let myself fall for paige, i have to stay loyal to jason or whatever.

but i still don’t understand how im falling so hard for a girl. a girl i just met at that, it sounds alien to me. if you told me 2 months ago i’d be head over heels for this woman, i’d look at you like you needed a straitjacket.

we continued working across from each other, the air thick with tension. i made sure to keep a safe distance, to not let our hands touch again. but being near her was torture. her scent, her presence, the way her voice deepened slightly when she was concentrating... everything about her drew me in.

as the hours passed, i found myself zoning out, my mind wandering to forbidden thoughts. paige's strong arms around me, her lips on mine, her hands exploring my body. i quickly rolled my eyes, trying to clear the images. no, i can't think like this.

i have a boyfriend.

i feel like i’m going insane, there is no way in hell im actually thinking like this. thinking like this about a girl, am i crazy? i think so. but it just sounds so right. i don’t think i’ve ever imagined times like this with jason though.

i mean, we did have sex a few times. but when i met him, i didn’t think like that— it was more of an emotional connection. i wasn’t immediately thinking about what his lips would feel like on mine.

paige seemed to pick up on the change though. she didn't bring up the touch again, didn't act the way she was acting earlier. we worked in near silence, the tension between us palpable but unspoken. as we finished up for the day, i felt a mix of relief and despair.

“not gon’ lie, i didn’t expect you to be this smart,” paige remarked, laughing softly as we packed up. “yeah, i try my best in academics,” i agreed softly. she smiled at me, and i felt my heart ache. why does it have to be her? why do i have to be taken?

“same time next weekend?” she asked. i hesitated for a moment. being around her was torture, but it was a torture i craved. “yeah,” i heard myself say. “same time next week.”

as i walked home, my mind was in turmoil. i knew i should end things with jason, that my heart wasn't in it anymore. but the thought of hurting him, of disappointing my family, held me back. i buried my face in my hands, a frustrated groan escaping my lips.

and no, im not trying to end things because of paige, thats silly—this thought weighed heavy on my mind for months. i mean, very good guy, but things just haven’t been the same. paige, she’s just the cherry on top.

i found myself in an impossible situation. i was falling for paige, but i was committed to someone else. i couldn't keep stringing jason along, not when my heart barely belonged to him.

here’s the situation: me and my boyfriend are falling apart, i’m falling for a girl, and my life is in shambles. sounds crazy right? yeah, i know.

i spent the rest of the week distracted, snapping at jason when he'd try to talk to me, zoning out during family dinners. but can you blame me? my situation is shit. i feel horrible, horrible for doing this to my boyfriend, horrible for falling for this girl.

my mom noticed, pulling me aside one evening. “madison, talk to me,” she said softly. “something's on your mind.” i hesitated. i wanted to confide in her, to tell her about paige, about my conflicted feelings. but i was scared. scared of her reaction, scared of what would happen next. so i chickened out. “it's nothing, mom.”

she searched my face, concern etched on her own. “madison, you can talk to me, you know. whatever it is, we'll figure it out together.” her voice was gentle, encouraging. but i just shook my head, pushing past her to retreat to my room.

alone in my room, i curled up on my bed, hugging a pillow to my chest. all my thoughts weighed down on me like a brick as i realized the mess i was in. i was torn between duty and desire, between what was right and what felt right. and i had no idea how to fix it.

this is the reality of being a girl i guess— or being a girl liking another girl. i’m a mess. i barely know her, it’s only been about a month or two, and they’ve been great, i can say that. but i just don’t get what’s wrong with me. what kind of phase am i going through?

i guess time will tell sooner or later.

#paige bueckers #paige bueckers x reader #uconn wbb #wcbb #paige x reader #paige bueckers angst #paige bueckers smut #angst #smut #uconn huskies

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passengerprincessblog · 2 days ago

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“Breaking Point” ~ Pt 4 Lewis Hamilton x Reader

Warning: SMUT, NSFW, angst, arguments, sleepy oral? Idk.

Summary: When Lewis shows up unannounced at Y/N’s filming location and follows her back to her LA home, unresolved tensions boil over, sparking an intense argument that exposes the growing rift between them. As they clash over misunderstandings and unspoken resentments, Y/N struggles to hold her ground, refusing to melt under Lewis’s charm, even as he tries to bridge the distance in his own stubborn, unrelenting way.

The silence in the car is suffocating, thick with all the words left unsaid between us. We’re heading back to my house in LA, and the tension stretches like an invisible line, taut and fraying. Every time I glance his way, I catch Lewis staring, his gaze heavy, filled with something that feels like disappointment or maybe just frustration.

It’s strange having him here, in my city, in my space. He’s never part of this life—my world where I’m more than his girlfriend, more than a footnote in his racing saga. Today, he got a glimpse of me with my crew, laughing, bantering, a side of myself he barely knows. A side that doesn’t revolve around him. And maybe that’s why this hurts so much. He’s so supportive of everything about me… except this. My career. The one thing that pulls me away from him.

I feel his hand settle on my thigh, his fingers warm against my skin. Instinctively, irritation flares up. I want to shove him off, to shake his hand away, but I don’t. I know it’ll only set him off, and I’m too tired for another argument. Instead, I focus on the passing streets, letting the city lights blur together, pretending not to notice his fingers tracing idle circles. He reaches over, grabbing my hand, playing with the rings on my fingers like I’m his personal stress toy. The sensation is grounding, sure, but also infuriating. Does he even realize how invasive this feels? How much he takes from me without even realizing it?

When we finally arrive at my house, I pull away the second the car stops, sliding out and thanking James, my driver, with a quick “Goodnight.” Lewis lingers, watching me with that unreadable gaze, like he’s studying me. I feel exposed, as if I’m a stranger he’s trying to understand, trying to fit into some mold that doesn’t really exist. It’s clear he’s not used to seeing me here, in LA, in the life that belongs to me.

I walk up the steps to my front door, feeling his presence right behind me. My house is beautiful—sprawling, a mix of modern LA glamour and Spanish-style architecture, spacious and luxurious. It’s mine, yet not entirely mine. After all, it’s Lewis who pays for it. I hadn’t wanted his money in the beginning, fought him on it, but he insisted, saying that rejecting his help felt like rejecting him. So here I am, living in this house he gifted me, a reminder of his presence even when he’s not here.

I unlock the door and step inside, throwing my keys on the table in the foyer. The house is decorated to my taste—soft hues, eclectic art pieces, warm textures that make it feel like home, my sanctuary. I walk into the living room, hearing his footsteps close behind me. He glances around, taking in the space, a look of faint surprise on his face.

“Wow… did you change it?” he asks, looking genuinely intrigued.

I shrug, not bothering to hide my irritation. “Not really… well, kind of.” I don’t give him much more. He hasn’t been here in nearly a year. Of course he wouldn’t remember.

He huffs, following me up the stairs, his footsteps deliberate, like he’s pushing through the tension hanging between us. I can feel the irritation rolling off him, the way he’s holding himself back, and it makes me want to push even harder.

“Are you gonna be like this all night? Y/N?” he says, his tone laced with barely restrained frustration.

I reach the top of the stairs and turn to face him, crossing my arms. “Yes.”

His jaw clenches, and he lets out a frustrated sigh. “Why can’t you have a normal conversation with me? Why is that so hard?”

I roll my eyes, throwing my hands up. “It’s not a ‘normal’ conversation, Lewis.” I can’t hold back anymore. “I can’t believe you just showed up like that,” I blurt out, the annoyance bubbling over.

His eyes narrow as I open the door to my bedroom, stepping into the softly lit space. My room is intimate, filled with small decorations and touches that feel so personal, so me. It’s like a slap in the face to him, a reminder that he doesn’t see my life like this enough, that he doesn’t really know this part of me.

“Because I love you? Because I wanted to surprise you? And support you?” he scoffs, almost as if my irritation is absurd.

I throw my bag at the end of my bed, barely glancing at him. “Okay… well, thanks. You can go now… I’m so surprised and supported. Mission accomplished.” My tone is dripping with sarcasm. “You can go back to your life.”

He stares at me, his eyes flashing with anger, a dangerous edge simmering beneath the surface. “Don’t talk to me like that. I’m trying.”

“Cool. I’m so impressed… you’re so impressive. Mr. champion, millionaire, stupid playboy. Is that what you want? Me to praise you for your attempt? You’re so fucking amazing, Lewis!” My voice rises, my irritation finally spilling out in sharp, pointed words.

He takes a step toward me, his gaze dark and intense. “You’re really pushing it. You know what I mean… I’m trying to make you feel loved. What’s wrong with you?”

“You’re what’s wrong.” I snap back, feeling the weight of my resentment boiling over. “Just leave now. I know you’re gonna leave in the morning anyway… with your stupid race on Sunday.”

He sighs, exasperated but unwilling to give up. “I don’t have to leave until Wednesday night,” he says, his tone hardening as he steps closer. “I’m staying.”

I roll my eyes, brushing past him into my bathroom. “No. Just leave.”

He follows me, his voice low and demanding as he steps into the room behind me. “I said…” he grabs my arm, pulling me toward him, his hand firm on my chin as he tilts my face to look at him. “I’m staying.”

My stomach flips, a mix of nerves and something else swirling inside me as I meet his intense gaze. His eyes are smoldering, his jaw tight, and I can feel the determination radiating off him, daring me to challenge him.

“Fine,” I say, my voice barely more than a whisper, trying to sound annoyed.

He lets go of my face, his thumb brushing over my cheek in a gentle, almost tender gesture that makes my heart ache. I can tell he wants more, that he’s craving some kind of reassurance, something from me, but I can’t bring myself to give in. Not yet.

He starts to step back, but I turn to the mirror, trying to compose myself, pretending his presence doesn’t affect me as much as it does. But he doesn’t move far; instead, he leans against the counter, his gaze fixed on me.

“Give me a kiss,” he says softly, his tone almost pleading.

I glare at him, refusing to give him the satisfaction.

“Give me a kiss…” he repeats, his voice coaxing, insistent.

I continue to glare, refusing to budge, letting the silence stretch.

“Y/N…” he murmurs, his tone dipping, a hint of something darker beneath it. “I’ll be getting a lot more than a kiss when we get to bed, so you better just give me one now.��

I furrow my brow, stubbornly refusing to indulge him. “You’re not forgiven. You don’t get a kiss… and you don’t get to stay in my room.”

He groans, rubbing his eyebrows in frustration. “Oh my god. You’re such a brat. Why are you like this? I’m trying to fix things.”

“They aren’t fixed. Leave me alone,” I mutter, turning back to the mirror, focusing on brushing my hair, anything to avoid the pull of his gaze.

He steps closer, his expression softening, and he leans down, pressing a gentle kiss to my cheek. “I love you, baby girl. Please… stop being like this.”

I narrow my eyes, knowing exactly what he’s doing. He’s trying to be all soft and sweet, pulling at my heartstrings, hoping I’ll melt and give in. But it’s not going to work. Not this time.

“Goodnight. The guest bedroom is perfect for you,” I say, flashing him a sarcastic smile.

He glares at me, his expression hardening in irritation. With a heavy sigh, he finally turns and leaves, the sound of his footsteps echoing down the hall, leaving me alone with the hollow ache that always seems to linger when he’s gone.

It’s late—sometime in the early hours, I’m sure—and I’ve barely settled into sleep when the faint sound of my bedroom door clicking shut pulls me out of my dreams. I stay still, eyes closed, hoping it’s just my imagination. But then I feel the bed shift, the mattress sinking slightly as a familiar warmth slips in beside me.

A heavy arm drapes over my waist, and I instinctively make a soft, annoyed sound, shifting away, but he just tightens his grip, pulling me back. His presence is warm, enveloping, and for a moment, I consider giving in, letting his touch soothe the tension between us. But I can’t quite shake my irritation, even through the haze of sleep.

“Baby… baby girl… shh…” His voice is soft, a gentle murmur as he leans in, pressing feather-light kisses along my neck and cheek. Each kiss is an apology, a quiet plea, and I can feel his regret seeping into each touch.

I hum in response, somewhere between annoyance and surrender, too drowsy to put up much of a fight. His hand slips under my shirt, his fingers gliding over my skin in slow, soothing circles, as if he’s trying to coax the tension out of me, to ease the edges of my frustration.

“I’m so sorry, baby girl…” he whispers, his breath warm against my skin. “I love you so much… please don’t be mad at me.”

The sincerity in his voice tugs at something deep within me, a part of me that’s been holding onto my anger, but now feels it starting to crumble. I want to hold onto it, to let him know how much he’s hurt me, but his gentle touch, the warmth of his apology, makes it hard to keep the walls up.

I sigh, barely able to form a coherent response, the words slipping out in a quiet murmur. “Lewis…”

His fingers trail lower, caressing the curve of my hip before slipping beneath the waistband of my panties. I squirm at the intimate touch, a shiver running through me despite my lingering irritation. His hand settles between my thighs, and I can't help but part them slightly, allowing him access.

"Let me make it up to you, baby girl," he murmurs, his voice low and soothing. "Let me show you how much I love you."

I'm too sleepy to protest, the warmth of his touch lulling me back towards unconsciousness. My body responds to him, a soft moan escaping my lips as his fingers begin to move, stroking me gently, coaxing me towards arousal.

"That's it, baby," he whispers encouragingly. "Just relax for me. Let me take care of you."

His words wash over me, soothing and seductive, and I feel myself melting into his touch. My hips begin to move of their own accord, squirming against his hand as he works me closer and closer to the edge.

I'm lost in a haze of pleasure, the earlier argument fading away as his skillful fingers bring me to the brink of climax. Just as I'm about to fall over the edge, he withdraws his hand, leaving me frustrated and wanting more.

"Lewis..." I whine, my voice thick with need.

He chuckles softly, the sound rumbling through his chest as he shifts position. "Not yet, baby girl. I'm not done apologizing."

With that, he moves down the bed, settling between my legs. I feel his breath ghosting over my sensitive flesh, and I can't suppress the moan that escapes my lips. He looks up at me, his eyes dark with desire, before he leans in, his tongue sliding over me in one long, slow lick.

I gasp, my fingers tangling in his hair as he begins to work me with his mouth, his tongue delving deep, stroking me in all the right places.

He continues his ministrations, his tongue swirling around my clit, sending jolts of pleasure coursing through my body. I can feel myself getting wetter.

"Fuck, Lewis," I moan, my hips squirming against his face. "Don't stop."

He obliges, doubling down on his efforts, his tongue delving deeper, his lips sucking harder. My fingers tighten in his hair, holding him in place as I grind against his mouth, chasing my release.

"You taste so fucking good, baby girl," he groans, the vibrations of his voice sending shockwaves of pleasure through me. "I could eat this pretty little pussy all night."

His words are filthy, but they only serve to turn me on more, spurring me towards my impending climax. I can feel it building, a coil of tension in my lower belly, winding tighter and tighter with each flick of his tongue.

"Lewis, I'm gonna... I'm gonna," I pant, my body tensing, my thighs quivering around his head.

He doesn't relent, his mouth working me feverishly, his tongue flicking rapidly over my clit, pushing me over the edge. I come with a cry, my back arching off the bed as waves of pleasure crash over me.

He laps it me up eagerly, prolonging my orgasm until I'm a trembling, boneless mess beneath him. Only then does he pull away, crawling back up my body to claim my lips in a deep, passionate kiss, sharing the taste of my own arousal with me.

"I love you, baby girl," he murmurs against my lips, his eyes shining with adoration.

I whimper slightly, the fleeing still lingers. I look at him as I become fully awake. Is he serious? Only Lewis would try this…

“‘Mmm…” I hum in response, not giving him the satisfaction of saying it back. He’s not forgiven, not matter how good he makes me feel.

His eyebrows furrow at me as he looks down at me. He sighs heavily, looking and sounding annoyed. He lays down next to me, cuddling close. I close my eyes… I’ll let him stay the here.

————————————-

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#f1 fanfic #f1 x reader #f1 imagine #f1 x you #lewis hamilton #lewis hamilton x reader #lewis hamilton x you #lewis hamilton smut #lewis hamilton fic

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hajimesh · 5 hours ago

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mama's day. gojo satoru

fluff. ₊˚⊹ ᰔ parents au, non sorcerer au, mom!reader, family fluff, two unnamed sons and one baby girl. a little gift for myself ! ᡣ𐭩

little sunshines au

satoru has a plan for your birthday—a very detailed one.

step one. wake up the nuggets

it takes him less than two minutes to get the oldest out of bed, and there's really no point in waking up his baby girl since there's not much an eight-month-old can do.

the problem is your toddler.

"c'moooon, don't you wanna give mama her gifts?"

satoru's tone grows exasperated the longer his son refuses to cooperate, kicking his legs and throwing his nemo plushie at his face.

"no!"

the five-year-old immediately shushes his baby brother, only making the latter whine even more, tears now running down his chubby cheeks.

satoru feels his face fall upon seeing his son so upset, he should've expected the little ones not to take it too well to be woken up at six in the morning.

"hey," he tries softly this time, caressing the soft blond hairs of his toddler, "I'm sorry, mochi. can you forgive papa? go back to sleep, I'll wake you up when breakfast is ready, okay?"

the sobs end and now there's only small sniffles coming from the sleepy kid.

"oki."

step two. make breakfast

"like this?"

satoru leans down to inspect his son's work, brows furrowing as he tries, and fails, to read whatever gibberish his son tried to spell on top of the freshly made waffles.

with a loud smooch on the kid's cheek, satoru squeezes him in a tight hug, grinning proudly the way a father would. "a masterpiece. mama's gonna love it."

dad and son work surprisingly silent, focused on their own tasks. it doesn't take them long to have plates full of food and fruits, as well as freshly made juice.

"why don't you grab these," satoru hands his son two bags with the names of expensive brands on them, "while I go get your siblings. okay?"

"on it!"

step three. gifts

"happy birthday, mama~"

"ma-ma!"

you wake up with a start, surrounded by four pairs of blue eyes staring down at you.

"happy birthday, love of my life, mother of my kids, my one and only!"

satoru pecks your mouth as your brain processes the beaming faces of your three nuggets. your boys sit next to you, one on each side, while satoru holds the baby in the air right above your face.

your confused face finally eases into one of happiness (and relief).

"thank you, my little babies!" you smile drowsily, urging yourself to blink the sleep away as you smooch the faces of all three of your children. "mwah, mwah, mwahhh–"

your husband can't help but smile upon seeing you smothering the kids with kisses. and with his hold still on his baby girl, satoru tugs her away from you and nods at your lap.

"open your gifts, baby. we got you aaaall of your favorites." he winks at his son and the little one covers his mouth behind his tiny hand, giggling. "and we also made breakfast for mama, right?"

with a pointed look from satoru, your toddler remembers the plate of food on his lap.

"eat waffu, baby." your two-year-old offers you the plate full of waffles, pushing it towards your mouth, insistent. "eat it."

step four. spoil her rotten

your two boys happily run across the gardens while your baby girl crawls on the grass, squealing right behind her brothers.

"liked the surprise?"

your husband's arms wrap around your middle from behind. his hold is the greatest comfort you could've asked for.

"you mean waking up with three of your clones staring down at me while I sleep?" you snort, but there's no real bite in your tone. "I loved it. especially their drawing of me surrounded by blue-eyed mochi."

your eldest had insisted on drawing their little family—with you right in the center—and satoru thought it'd be funny to add the mochi instead of the kids.

"oh, but I'm not done yet, sweetheart." he spins you around in his arms, now grinning at you. "an entire weekend. you and me. what do you say?"

a groan slips past your lips and he immediately frowns, indignation clear on his face.

"c'mon, pretty. it's been a while since it was just the two of us." satoru goes for the puppy eyes, knowing that by doing so he already has a fifty percent of chance of winning. "you're not only a mother, but also a wife. let your doting husband pamper you."

"and who's watching over the kids? the baby??" you try to reason, glancing at your nuggets as they giggle their little hearts out as they play together. "satoru, we can't just leave."

"sweetheart, relaaaaax. ijichi got us covered."

oh, that poor man.

you make a mental note to give nanami a call.

#₊˚ʚ 🌱 little sunshines au #𓂃 ࣪ ִֶָ☾ ‧₊˚☁️ skye #sunny skies #jjk x reader #gojo x you #gojo x reader #jujutsu kaisen x you #gojo fluff #jjk fanfic #jjk fluff #jujutsu kaisen x reader #gojo satoru x you #gojo satoru x reader #gojo satoru #gojo satoru fluff #divider by v6que

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nimrochan · 1 day ago

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Thank you for your question. To really simplify the answer, no, Israel has never sought to annihilate Gaza or its people. Any pro-Israel activity calling to end Gaza is very rare and not consistent with what most Israelis (including myself) want.

There has been a *very successful* anti-Israel propaganda campaign from terrorist groups ever since WWII ended, spearheaded by Mufta al-Husseini (a friend of Hitler) and tailored to appeal to progressive intellectuals in the west. The “Gaza genocide” is common knowledge now, but there is simply not enough unbiased evidence to support it.

Many claim that there has been a genocide “for 80 years,” yet Gazan population has gone from 80,000 to 2 million, not consistent with ~80 years~ of genocide. At least not a successful one.

In fact before the recent war started by Hamas, most Gazans just… lived their lives. It was a beautiful piece of land. Roughly 150,000 Gazans crossed into Israel every day for work (and that will no longer be allowed probably, because a few of them turned out to be scoping and mapping the area that would later be the site of the 10/07 attacks). There was no IDF presence there. There were no Jewish residents since 2005, because, well, they didn’t want them and Israel agreed to yank them out. Again before the recent war, Israel accepted 1000-2000 Palestinian citizens a year. They, along with roughly 2 million other Israeli Arabs, have equal rights and opportunities (Meanwhile in the West Bank, a Palestinian faces the death penalty if they sell property to a Jew.). A very small handful of these Israeli-Palestinian citizens committed terrorist attacks on Jews over the years (look up the 2015 Palestinian attacks, as an example. I was there, watching it unfold on the news). There is a border around Gaza because of a history of suicide bombers and other attackers crossing over to hurt civilians. I was also there in the 90’s when that was a common problem. I was scared to take the bus to school, because buses were popular targets.

Meanwhile, Hamas put a foothold on Gaza and started firing unprovoked rockets into civilian areas in Israel, since they couldn’t easily cross the border anymore to plant bombs. They’ve been doing this for 20 years. Then they found a way to cross over en masse and rape/slaughter 1200 noncombatant people (I’m sure you know that story at least).

It turns out that the decades of propaganda over Israel’s alleged horrendous treatment of Gazans gave them billions of dollars in aid to build tunnels and rockets.

Hamas continued to send rockets from hospitals, schools, and apartment buildings so that IDF retaliatory rockets would hit civilians. Then they plaster it all over social media - look what Israel did! Then they continue firing rockets over and over and over again. They continue hanging on to the remaining 101 hostages, at least half of whom are dead.

Meanwhile, the IDF utilizes pamphlets and alerts and sirens and all kinds of methods to clear out civilians before they bomb an area. Not exactly “annihilation” behavior.

Why are they displacing upwards of at least a million Gazans from their homes? Because Hamas built tunnels and weapons under them. For the sole purpose of killing Israelis. So yeah, the IDF wants to put a stop to that. As would any normal army from a normal country.

Reliable sources put the combatant - to - civilian ratio at around 1:1 - 1:2.5, which is extremely low. For a dense urban area, average is 1:9.

Looking at it another way - there are about 300,000 IDF soldiers in Gaza right now. They have superior weapons, they have air space. That’s 100 times the number of Hamas members involved in 10/07. So if they killed Gazans with the same unhinged violence as Hamas did in one day … 100 times the soldiers leading to 100 times the deaths, over 400 days… They would have killed over ~20x the population in Gaza by now.

So between the population growth, the forcible removal of Jewish residents from Gaza in 2005, the multiple offers for a two state solution denied by Hamas, the fact that Israel has never sent a rocket first (and you can look that up), the distribution of aid, and the care taken to minimize civilian death in an extremely urban strip of land as small as Manhattan, there doesn’t seem to be an annihilation goal.

Are they capable of annihilating all Gazans? Yes. They’re a powerful military. But they haven’t so far. And I never see accurate or unbiased information to prove otherwise. What I HAVE seen is footage of Hamas torturing Gazans and shooting at people for trying to flee areas that the IDF warned them they would strike.

Let me be clear that I am in no way minimizing the suffering and death of Gazans, especially considering that children make up such a large number of the population. I’ve seen that footage too. It’s awful. It doesn’t have to be labeled a genocide to be horrific. War is horrific.

I’m not going to sit here and pretend that every IDF member is free from sin, that would be foolish and naive, but to spread misinformation about the war is to embolden terrorists and keep them throwing their own citizens in harm’s way for the sake of killing Jews. Yes, I believe that a large part of the pro-Palestine movement is harming both sides.

We don’t want Gaza. (Egypt didn’t even want Gaza when offered). We want people to stop using it to terrorize us. We continue to receive 100+ rockets a day from Hamas and Hezbollah. One of them hit a kindergarten today.

You are welcome to ask me more questions as long as it doesn’t come from a hostile place.

#a whole ass novel #my bagel melted #alas #but I’m always happy to answer questions and fight misinformation #israel #palestine #gaza #pro palestine #pro israel #i/p #i/p conflict #i/p war #antisemitism #jumblr #Jewblr

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soulofapatrick · 1 day ago

Text

We Are Everything - Rhysand x female reader

Summary: Rhys gets jealous of how close you are with Cassian and Azriel

Words: 2.7K

Warnings: None really

Y/N's POV

Every inch of me is on fire as Azriel and I land in the House of Wind, a dull ache spreading through my muscles from a day that’s been nothing short of brutal. Today, for the first time, I manifested Illyrian wings—the heavy, powerful weight of them still unfamiliar against my back. Each beat had been a struggle, the strain leaving me barely able to stand now. My body hums with fatigue, my bones echoing with the effort it took to stay aloft.

Azriel’s hand remains firm around my arm, guiding me as we step into the living room. I’m barely aware of who’s present, only that the comforting warmth of home surrounds me—until I hear a soft scoff.

I lift my head and catch Nesta’s narrowed gaze flicking over me, her lips curled in the faintest sneer. Her eyes linger on my trousers, the mud-streaked leather, the sweat still clinging to my skin. There's a flash of disdain that I know all too well; she doesn’t even need to say it for her message to be clear. A woman should be in dresses, not leather, and definitely not training.

But after the day I’ve had, I can’t bring myself to care. Not even Nesta’s sharp look can touch the quiet pride pulsing in my chest, the satisfaction of the wings still heavy against my back.

Nesta’s sneer sharpens as I meet her gaze, her mouth twisting just a bit more. “I suppose now you think you’re an Illyrian warrior,” she says, voice dripping with that familiar disdain. “I hope you don’t expect us all to start dressing like… that.”

I’m too tired to even form a response, so instead, I lift a hand and flip her the bird without breaking stride. I hear a scoff and what might be a muttered insult, but I’m already focused on my destination: the couch, where Cassian is stretched out, watching with one raised brow and a smirk playing on his lips.

With legs shaking and every muscle burning, I stumble forward, letting myself collapse right onto the couch beside him. A pained groan slips from my lips as I finally let my body go slack, my head falling onto Cassian’s strong, solid thighs like a pillow carved from pure muscle.

Cassian’s smirk softens into something warmer, and without a word, his hand moves to my hair, his fingers gently working through the strands. The slow, soothing strokes seem to untangle more than just my hair, easing away the worst of the day’s strain. I close my eyes, letting out a contented sigh as I feel the stress of training begin to melt away under his touch.

At the other end of the couch, I feel a soft pressure at my feet. Cracking one eye open, I find Azriel crouched by my boots, unlacing them with a care and gentleness that almost surprises me. His touch is reverent, his shadows coiling protectively around him as he works. He glances up, his gaze meeting mine for just a moment, and there’s a flicker of warmth there—softer than his usual stoicism, an almost brotherly affection that makes my heart ache in a different way.

Between Cassian’s gentle touch in my hair and Azriel’s careful hands unlacing my boots, I feel myself drifting, the weight of exhaustion pulling me under.

The fatigue in my body is overwhelming, but Cassian’s touch is a balm, gentle and soothing. His fingers comb through my hair with a rhythm that almost lulls me to sleep, and Azriel’s presence at my feet grounds me in a way that lets me fully surrender to the moment. The ache in my bones is nearly forgotten under the weight of their care, but then, something else tugs at my chest—a pull that is different, sharper, than the weariness I’ve felt all day.

It’s not physical, but it aches all the same. My heart stirs, and my eyes flutter open in confusion. There, standing in the doorway, is Rhysand. His dark wings are tightly folded, his posture rigid, his expression taut with something I can’t quite place. His eyes find me instantly, pinning me in place, and that ache in my chest grows stronger. It’s a subtle thing, an invisible thread pulling me toward him.

Cassian’s fingers stop mid-stroke in my hair, his hand freezing when he catches the tension in the air. I can feel it, too. The room feels suddenly charged, the air heavy with unspoken words. Rhysand’s jaw tightens, and he lets out a low sound—almost a growl—as his gaze flicks from Cassian’s hand in my hair to my face, his eyes darkening in a way that sends a ripple of heat through me.

“Cassian,” Rhysand’s voice is a dangerous whisper, rough with barely restrained control. “Stop touching her.”

The words hit me like a shock to my system, and for a moment, I forget to breathe. Cassian’s hand stirs in my hair one last time before pulling away, his fingers trembling slightly as if reluctant to let go. The sudden absence of his touch makes my skin burn for a moment, and I fight the instinct to reach for him, to beg him not to stop.

I’m too tired to care about the tension, too exhausted to hold back the words that tumble from my mouth. “Go away, Rhysand,” I murmur, my voice thick with sleep and a quiet defiance. “I’m tired, and I’m comfy. Let me be.”

There’s a sharpness in Rhysand’s eyes, something deep and possessive that makes my pulse quicken. But he doesn’t move, doesn’t speak for a long beat. Even Nesta, who usually doesn’t hide her distaste, falls silent, her sneer melting into something unreadable as she watches. Feyre, tucked behind her book, raises a brow but doesn’t look up from the pages, the quiet understanding in her gaze making me wonder if she’s seen this before.

I feel the tension crackle between us, thick enough to make the room feel smaller, the air too heavy to breathe easily. Rhysand doesn’t leave, but neither does he approach, his eyes still fixed on me with a quiet intensity that sends a shiver up my spine.

Cassian, on the other hand, remains still, his hand resting just inches from my hair, his touch gone but the heat of it lingering. His fingers twitch as if he’s fighting the urge to return to their soothing rhythm, but he stays where he is, a silent promise in the way his eyes meet mine. The unspoken connection between us is undeniable.

But Rhysand, still standing in the doorway, seems to fill the entire space with a tension that’s almost suffocating. I want to resist the pull in my chest, want to ignore the way he makes everything inside me tighten, but I’m too tired. And right now, all I want is to rest in the warmth of the moment, to let the world fade away around me.

With a soft sigh, I close my eyes again, refusing to acknowledge the storm brewing in the room. “Go away, Rhysand,” I whisper once more, this time my words gentler, though my resolve is still firm.

I’m too comfortable here. Too safe. Too-

Rhysand’s eyes flash, the storm within him no longer hidden. Without a word, he crosses the room in two large strides, his presence towering and undeniable. Before I can even register what’s happening, his arms are around me, lifting me off the couch in one fluid motion.

The sudden shift in position, the abruptness of his actions, has me gasping in pain. My body protests, every muscle aching from the day’s training, the weight of my wings still unfamiliar. The sharp tug in my chest grows, but it’s not just the ache from my wings anymore—this pain is raw, burning through me, made worse by his hurriedness.

I cry out, the sound torn from my throat before I can control it.

Rhys’s expression falters for a split second, his eyes darkening as if the pain I’ve felt only deepens his own anger. But there’s no pause. No apology. He holds me tighter, his jaw clenched so hard I can see the muscles twitch under his skin. His chest heaves with every breath, but the world around us seems to shrink with the intensity of the moment.

Without warning, the air ripples with the unmistakable feeling of his magic, and I’m yanked away from the House of Wind. The world blurs, the room fading into nothingness before I even have a chance to react.

We’re somewhere else—far from the House of Wind. The air is colder, crisper, and the scent of pine fills my senses. My eyes snap open to find myself in a cozy cabin nestled in the mountains, the dim light from a crackling fire casting soft shadows across the room.

Rhysand doesn’t put me down immediately. His grip on me is firm, possessive, and though his anger hasn’t subsided, there’s something more in his gaze now. Something… unreadable. He’s still holding me against his chest, his heart beating wildly under my ear as I try to steady my breath.

I’m still cradled in his arms, my body weak and aching, and yet, with his warmth enveloping me, I can’t help but feel a strange comfort. The pain from the abrupt winnowing is still there, but it’s swallowed by the closeness of his presence, by the way he holds me so tightly, almost as if he’s afraid to let go.

His voice comes low, rough, and edged with frustration. “What the hell were you thinking, pushing yourself like that?”

Rhysand’s gaze softens, just for a moment, and then he’s moving, cradling me against his chest as he strides toward the bedroom. Every step is measured, careful, as though he’s afraid any jostling might worsen the ache in my body. When he lays me down on the bed, I feel a tenderness in his touch, a gentleness that makes my heart twist painfully.

For a brief, fragile moment, I think I might cry. There’s something in his eyes—a rare vulnerability, a glimmer of guilt and protectiveness so intense it makes my throat tighten. I’m too tired, too sore, to unravel the depth of it, but the ache that had been nagging in my chest spreads, a tender warmth and longing all at once.

Without a word, Rhys turns toward the en-suite, the sound of water filling the silence as he begins to run a bath. My body throbs with the lingering pain of the winnowing, muscles still tensed from the sudden shift. Yet, as I watch him turn away, that ache only deepens, twisting through me, begging him not to leave my side.

Almost on instinct, my hand reaches out, finding his fingers just as he starts to pull away. I can barely speak, my voice a hushed whisper. “Don’t… don’t go.” My fingers tighten around his, not caring about pride or pretence in this moment—just the desperate need for his warmth, his steadiness, here with me.

Rhysand stops, his back still turned to me, but I feel his hand squeeze mine, firm and reassuring. Slowly, he turns back, his expression melting from tense determination into something softer, something full of unspoken promises. His thumb brushes across my knuckles as he kneels down beside the bed, his gaze meeting mine.

“I’m not going anywhere,” he murmurs, his gaze flickering, his expression unreadable for a beat, but his hand tightens around mine, his thumb still tracing slow circles on my skin. He lets me pull him onto the bed beside me, his weight dipping the mattress just enough that I can feel the warmth of him, smell the faint, familiar scent of night-blooming jasmine and sea salt, something uniquely Rhysand that fills the air and makes my head spin.

He’s so close now, his eyes holding mine with an intensity that makes my heart skip. The firelight flickers, casting a warm glow across his sharp features, softening the fierce determination in his gaze. My breath catches as I study him, and I can feel the unspoken words that seem to hover between us, thickening the air.

The air between us pulses with an ache, heavy and electric, and I can barely breathe under the weight of it. Tugging him closer, I pull Rhys to me until his face is so close I can feel the whisper of his breath against my lips. His dark gaze flickers over my face, full of need, tenderness, and something fierce that makes my heart stammer.

“Is this what I think it is?” I breathe, my voice a trembling thread. My fingers brush the line of his jaw, feeling his muscles clench beneath my touch. He stares at me like I’m the only thing in existence, his eyes wild and searching, his body still but tense, as if he’s holding back a torrent of feeling.

His lips part slightly, a faint, shaky exhale escaping. “And what do you think it is?” His voice is rough, his words both a challenge and an invitation.

My heart pounds, my throat tight with the overwhelming truth of it all. I hold his gaze, each beat of silence heavy with meaning, before I finally say, “You’re my mate.”

As soon as the words leave my lips, his expression crumbles—relief, joy, and something almost like disbelief flashing across his face, only to be replaced by a fierce, desperate devotion. His hands come up to cradle my face, his thumb grazing my cheek as if afraid I’ll vanish. He leans in, his gaze soft yet blazing with unspoken words, with promises and feelings he’s held back for far too long.

“Say it again,” he whispers, his voice trembling, thick with emotion. His eyes are locked on mine, as if needing to burn the moment into his memory, to let the words settle into his very bones.

“You’re my mate, Rhys,” I say, barely more than a breath, but I pour every ounce of feeling into it. It’s the truth, raw and undeniable.

And before I can take another breath, he closes the gap, his lips crashing onto mine, and the world falls away. His kiss is desperate, searing, full of longing that has simmered for what feels like a lifetime. He kisses me as if he’s starved for it, as if I’m the only thing that can soothe the ache inside him, and the intensity of it ignites something deep within me, spreading like wildfire.

His hands tangle in my hair, his fingers trembling slightly as he pulls me closer, holding me like he’s afraid to let go. Each touch, each press of his lips, is fierce, claiming, yet achingly tender. His kiss is everything—demanding, gentle, passionate—and I feel myself melting into him, my body surrendering to the rhythm of his, every fibre of me aligning with him.

His lips leave mine just long enough for us to gasp for breath, and when his eyes meet mine, they’re dark with longing, with love, his forehead resting against mine as if he’s grounding himself in me.

“I’ve wanted this—needed this—for so long,” he murmurs, his voice rough and unsteady, his hands framing my face, thumbs brushing along my cheekbones.

“Then don’t let go,” I whisper, voice trembling with emotion.

His gaze softens, but the desperation remains, and he kisses me again, deeper this time, with a kind of reverence that makes my heart ache. It’s as if he’s pouring his very soul into me, as if his love, his devotion, is something he can no longer contain. His arms wrap around me, pulling me impossibly close, our bodies aligning, the world outside forgotten.

In this moment, we are everything.

ACOTAR Masterlist TAG LIST - updated 12th Oct 2024

TAGS:

@lilah-asteria @maleficmuse @fanficscuziranout @angelbunny222

#rhysand #rhysand shadowsinger #rhysand acotar #acotar fandom #rhysand fanfic #rhysand spymaster #rhysand x reader #rhysand x you #rhysand x y/n #rhysand smut #rhysand fluff #rhysand angst #bat boys #acotar #a court of thorns and roses #a court of mist and fury #a court of silver flames #a court of wings and ruin #a court of frost and starlight

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