#was told over a decade ago that i “looked like someone who would enjoy the big bang theory” and i have never forgotten that mortal insult

[togenabi]

things I won't tell you

vinsmoke sanji (opla) x princess!reader

♡—the new royal chef doesn't seem to recognize you without your crown. who's going to tell him? . . . certainly not you.

word count♡— 7.3k (cries)

genre♡— fluff, royal chef x princess au

content notes♡— opla sanji, afab!reader is a princess, reader wears dresses, reader has siblings (oc's), sanji made me google fancy food, mentions of zeff, sanji gets jealous if you squint, no use of y/n, proofread (but only a little)

also on♡— ao3

author's note♡— this is detached from any canon, its basically just a big chunk of sanji fluff. please enjoy!

You've never really dreamed for yourself. You had always just let life fall into place around you.

The kingdom is prospering, entering a new age of commerce. Artists, craftsmen, and inventors sail seas just to be part of it.

Your sister Chrysanth is a wise queen, as you always knew she would be. She’s fair and just, always knowing what’s best for her people.

On the other hand, your brother August is Captain of the Royal Guard. He’s an excellent swordsman, who has yet to be beaten ever since he took command.

As for you, the youngest of the three, you have no idea what you’re doing.

The most likely outcome would be for you to be married off to settle some political arrangement. Unpleasant as it sounds, you would have agreed to it for the sake of the kingdom.

But the moment you said so, Chrysanth gave you a look unbecoming of a queen and immediately shut it down.

“Look,” She gestured to the view outside. “Does that seem like a kingdom who needs help to you? I work my butt off precisely so that we won’t have to depend on anyone else.”

“Besides,” She adds, “if anyone wants your hand, they should fight to the death for it.”

And so, for now, you work for your sister. Helping manage general affairs and the kingdom’s business agreements—even though she could easily hire someone else.

“I love that you insist on working,” Your brother told you once. “You could have been a socialite, but you’re here with us, serving the people.”

Of course you are. Because even though you didn’t necessarily plan it, you are proud and committed to your work. You’re happy with your own, mundane accomplishments.

Or at least that’s what you try to remember when you glance at the tall pile of documents on your desk. You’ll relish the satisfaction that will come when it���s gone.

The candle beside you burns low, flame becoming dimmer and dimmer as the hour grows late. You should probably replace that. Pulling open your drawer, your eyes scan its contents for a candle.

You’re fresh out of the tall ones that fit in the candleholder, but you have one sculpted like a cinnamon bun—a gift from August a few birthdays ago. It’s not exactly the best for illuminating your work, but something makes you strike a match and light it still.

It smells like freshly baked cinnamon rolls, you can’t help but inhale the decadent scent deeply.

The aroma triggers an embarrassing grumble from your stomach. You feel your ears burn despite the fact that no one else is around to have heard it. Perhaps a midnight snack is in order.

Unexpectedly, light seeps through the gap beneath the large wooden double doors to the kitchen. In all your years, you’ve never encountered anyone in the kitchen at two in the morning.

Normally, you wouldn’t want to disturb them. Knowing the chefs, they would likely fuss over you and put whatever they were doing on hold.

But you fear that your stomach will disagree with that, so you decide to knock and enter the kitchen anyway.

There’s only one chef inside—a tall, blond man with his back to you. You don’t think you recognize him. He must be one of the new hires.

When he hears your footsteps on the stone tiles, he turns around.

His expression, at first, is curious. But after a beat, his mouth curves into a charming grin that catches you completely off guard.

“Hello there, miss.” He nods in greeting, eyes alight with a look that no one usually dares when it comes to you.

“I’d be happy to fix up something for you if there’s anything you’re… craving.”

When you expected the chef to fuss over you, this isn’t what you meant.

Your first instinct is to look at his surroundings for alcohol. Perhaps he’s intoxicated and not in his right mind?

But the (sober) chef seems to have mistaken your silence for bashfulness, because he presses you further, “Trust me. I may be new around here, but I know my stuff.”

Unsure how to respond to his blatant (or insolent, your sister would say) behavior, you try to gently decline his offer.

“It’s alright,” You say, still uncertain about him. “I was only going to make a sandwich and be on my way.”

“Nonsense!” He insists. “If you’re hungry at this hour, it means you’ve been busy working too hard.”

He approaches the pantry, retrieving one too many things for a mere sandwich. Your concern grows when he grabs garlic, several leafy vegetables, and a lemon.

“You, my dear,” He points at you with, is that a cucumber? “—deserve a proper treat.”

You sigh, it looks like he doesn’t intend to back down. Maybe you should just let him do what he wants and see if he can back up all the talk. Pulling one of the chairs from beneath the kitchen island, you take a seat as you observe the flirtatious chef.

At least he seems to be enjoying himself. His hands work with the kind of precision that only comes from years of experience; and he smiles proudly when he sees you watching.

“I meant what I said, I’m a damn good cook.” He’s begun chopping the vegetables. “My name’s Sanji, by the way.”

The question now is whether or not you properly introduce yourself. It's difficult to deny that you enjoy his attention. The casual and relaxed manner he addresses you with is… a nice kind of different. When else are you going to experience that if you let this go?

Alright. For tonight, you're not a princess. You're someone who stumbled upon a chef—a handsome one, it dawns on you. This is a chance encounter in the palace kitchens. And, you glance over at the dressing and ingredients he prepared, why should you turn down good food?

You decide to only give him your name. It feels strange introducing yourself without your title, but you don't tell him that.

“It makes sense that your name is as captivating as you are.” Sanji's voice is smooth, easygoing as he moves around the kitchen.

Nothing about his demeanor changes. Either he really doesn't know anything about this country's royalty, or he's skillfully controlled his reaction and is hiding that he knows.

There's also a third possibility: that you look so haggard and tired that you simply do not appear royal anymore.

Subconsciously, you look at your typical office clothes… Maybe you should go on that fitting the royal stylist has been pestering you about.

On the topic of style, however, your companion has unusual attire for a chef. He’s wearing a buttoned shirt with a necktie. His black slacks match the suit jacket draped over one of the chairs.

Your attention is diverted when Sanji begins rolling up his sleeves. He juices the lemon he had sliced in half, arms flexing as he twists the fruit.

Clearing your throat, you ask him a question to distract yourself. “What are you making?”

He smiles as if he’s glad you asked. “A dish that suits a beauty like you, of course.”

Several minutes later, he presents you with a sandwich. The slices of bread are whole wheat; the layers of ingredients between them are all in varying shades of green.

“A green goddess sandwich, made with care for the goddess in front of me.” Sanji pushes the plate towards you. 

It's easy to stay composed despite the flattery because your hunger makes you focus on the food. “It really does look excellent.” You compliment earnestly.

He gestures to the plate before placing his hands in his pockets. “Tastes excellent too, try it.” Shaking your head at how confident he’s being, you pick up the sandwich.

It might just be the best sandwich you’ve ever had in your life. The flavors are fresh, and you catch the hints of lemon blending with the dressing. The bread is soft, contrasting with the crunch of the cucumbers and sprouts.

You're completely surprised, and it must be obvious based on how Sanji reacts. He lets out an adorable, pleased laugh that makes you want to hear it again.

“I knew you’d like it, ma chèrie.” Sanji reaches a hand towards your face. Your heart just about stops when he brushes his thumb to wipe at the corner of your mouth. His eyes look so intense, like you'll drown in them if you stare too much. 

It feels as if your face could burst into flames at any second, so you turn away to hide your flush.

As Sanji grabs you a glass of water, you ask him if he’s eaten. “I did, but it’s nice that you’re worried about me.” He answers. You almost choke on your drink.

Once you've finished your meal, you stand then grab your empty plate and glass. But Sanji mirrors you, blocking the way to the sink. Why must a chef have such broad shoulders?

He shakes his head, trying to get the dishes from you. “Can’t let you do that, love.”

“Why not?” You frown, pulling your arms back so he doesn’t reach them.

“It’s late. You shouldn’t be working any more—”

“But you’re allowed to?” You look up at him defiantly.

Sanji stares at you. You stare back. There's a few seconds of silence before you sprint the other way, running around the kitchen island to get to a different sink.

“Oh, no you don’t!” Sanji yells after you.

You’re almost there, but Sanji catches up to you easily. Before you know it, he’s blocking the way again and you curse, remembering his long legs.

“Sanji, let me do the dishes.” You plead, but he’s as stubborn as it gets.

“The knives I used need to be washed anyway, and I’m not about to let your pretty hands do that.” Sanji winks, and you give up. He pries the dishes from your hands.

Seeing your shoulders slump disappointedly, he offers you a compromise. “If you really want, you could throw the rubbish in the bin and wipe down the counters.” Okay, you can do that.

“Are you sure this is the only way I can repay you?” You ask, grabbing a washcloth to begin cleaning up.

“That’s plenty of help, my dear.” Sanji answers.

But after a moment, he seems to have gotten an idea. Your brows raise in curiosity as you question him, “What?”

“...I was just wondering,” He begins, looking at you with that flirtatious glint in his eye. “Since we had such a wonderful time tonight, would you be willing to join me again?”

“That depends,” You press your lips together to suppress the smile blooming on your lips. “Will you cook for me again?”

Sanji laughs, throwing his head back. “Darling, that’s a given.”

He gazes at you while he dries his hands. There’s a grin on his face as he asks, like he already knows your answer. He probably does. He’s probably right.

“Same time tomorrow?”

Even though you got back to your chambers at an ungodly hour in the morning, you woke up feeling the most refreshed you’ve ever been. There’s a spring in your step as you get ready for the day, and you pick clothes that are slightly more dressy than your usual attire. Sanji shouldn’t be able to notice that you dressed up for him, right?

But your sister does. 

Seated at the head of the table, Chrysanth stops eating to analyze your clothes the instant you show up to the dining hall for breakfast.

You could practically hear the gears in her head turning. Avoiding her gaze, you bow to greet her before taking your seat, “Good morning.”

The queen only smiles at you knowingly, eyes still flickering over you with enraptured excitement. Very much unlike a queen, however, she kicks your shin underneath the table.

“Ow!” You yelp.

“So…” She lets the syllable drag on. “Who’s the guy?”

You focus on piling food onto your plate, choosing to ignore her. “What guy?”

“Your guy.” She says, giddy. “Is he your guy yet?”

“Hm?” Is your only response. Breakfast looks lovely. Should you ask for coffee or tea today?

Chrysanth kicks you again.

“Hey!” You rub the skin to dull the pain. “Stop that!”

“Stop avoiding the question!” She persists, waving a hand to gesture at your clothes. “You only wear that skirt when you want to impress someone.”

Mentally cursing her for knowing you too well, you continue to act nonchalant.

“Really, it’s nothing.” You try to clarify. “I just thought that it would be a nice change.”

She doesn't believe it. Not one bit of it. Thankfully though, she drops the topic. Your shoulders relax as the discussion switches to work-related ones. She’s telling you about her plans to approve a restaurant in the museum when your brother joins you for breakfast.

Once he’s seated, August takes one look at you before tilting his head. “Who’s the guy?”

Chrysanth looks far too smug and triumphant than you’d like. You bury your face in your hands. Would Sanji also tease you if he knew?

The rest of the day is uneventful, the only change to your typical work day being that you avoid your siblings like the plague. You have lunch brought to your office and skip on dinner.

Sanji had already started cooking by the time you got to the kitchen. “I hope you don’t mind,” He says. Of course you don’t, whatever it is smells amazing. “I thought I’d start early so you wouldn’t have to wait too long.”

“Thank you for going through the trouble.” You say, glancing at the ingredients he had laid out: there are crushed tomatoes on the counter. Pasta simmers in a pot on the stove. You recognize the tubed shapes with ridges surrounding them.

“Rigatoni?” You ask, turning to the chef.

Sanji nods, “With a simple, creamy tomato sauce. Nothing too extravagant, but still specially made for you.” 

He puts the pasta into two bowls, grating parmesan cheese on top. Your mouth waters.

“Here you are, darling.” It pleases you more than you thought it would when Sanji sits across from you to eat as well.

There’s something homey and yet luscious about the taste. He really outdid himself. “It’s delicious, Sanji.”

“I live to please.” Sanji says before standing to retrieve two wine glasses and a bottle of red. “Zweigelt.” He says as he pours for you both. “Juicy and fresh, with just the right amount of acidity.”

You almost swoon at the rasp in his voice. You never realized someone could be so attractive when talking about wine.

As he clinks his glass with yours, you think to yourself that this might be your favorite dish from him. However, true to his word, he surpasses your expectations every time.

After a few weeks, on your sixth (or is it seventh?) time meeting Sanji past midnight, you've reached the point where you're able to open up to each other beyond the pleasantries that come with the food.

He tells you about his dream of traveling the seas in search for the best ingredients the world has to offer. You admit how you sometimes feel like life is just taking you along with the current—that you’ve never had a burning, passionate dream to aspire to.

“I don’t think that’s a bad thing,” Sanji hums contemplatively. “There aren’t any deadlines when it comes to finding dreams.”

“I do worry that you’re working yourself to the bone, though.” He adds, and for once, his smile looks different somehow. It’s a fond, gentle smile that’s sweeter than the macarons he made for you.

“What do you mean?” You take a sip of water.

“While I'm flattered you enjoy my food so well, do you eat properly? Shouldn't the palace be treating you better?” This time, you actually choke on your drink.

Could it get more embarrassing than this? Your ears burn as you cough, trying to clear your throat and settle your heart.

“Breathe, love." Sanji, ever the gentleman, is next to you in a flash of a second. He pats your back gently and supportively. “I'm sorry if I startled you.”

“It's alright—and, I do eat,” Your voice comes out raspy. “It's just that I don't usually have an appetite for dinner.”

“But that leaves you hungry for a midnight snack?” Sanji asks, a knowing expression on his face as he refills your glass.

“Exactly.” You smile. Thankfully, your throat has calmed down. Picking up a vanilla-flavored macaron, you savor the taste that melts sweetly on your tongue. Returning to his chair across from you, Sanji watches you eat happily. 

“I take pride in my desserts, but that chocolatier in Belltower street… The sweets are just—out of this world, I tell you.” He looks so excited as he talks, eyes aglow and gestures animated. “The chocolates are handmade and everything. I'm sure you've heard of it?”

“Um…” Hesitating, you certainly remember issuing a business permit for a chocolatier; but you can’t say you’ve gone there yourself.

Sanji’s eyes widen in disbelief. “Surely you’re pulling my leg. You haven’t been?”

“...”

He observes you quietly, like he's considering what to do next. There have been instances when Sanji stays quiet, doesn't eat, and only watches you chew. The times where he insists that he's content with seeing you eating well. Those were awkward at first, but you learned that was just part of spending time with him. Your reaction was a reward on its own.

But this isn't like that. Something feels oddly different in the way he seems to be gathering his composure. The silence almost worries you, but thankfully he breaks it first.

“You’ve saved me the trouble of thinking of a place to take you to.” Laughing, Sanji practically glows in elation. “You’ll love it, I promise.”

You had a peculiar sense that you would’ve loved going anywhere, as long as you were with him. 

Feeling bold, you suggest, “I’m free this Saturday if that’s good for you?”

He gives you that soft, enamoured look again. Something makes you hold your breath, your fingers tingle and the entire rest of the world slows down. You’re almost certain you’re giving him the same look.

“Even if I wasn’t, love, I would have gone to you anyway.”

The next day, a Thursday, your brother unexpectedly knocks on your office door.

“Hey,” You smile. “Is something wrong?” 

It’s rare for August to look for you in the middle of the day. If either of you need to speak, it’s usually you who heads into the training grounds to talk to him. The other way around occurring is curious.

“I wanted to invite you to watch the knights train this Saturday.” He says coolly. “It would boost their morale if you spoke a few words.”

The commander goes on to speak, not catching that you’ve short circuited somewhat, trying to rack your brain for a valid excuse to decline him.

“And maybe, you could pick out a personal knight like I’ve been telling you.” August prompts. “You really should—”

When he pauses, squinting his eyes at you suspiciously, you suddenly recall why you stopped trying to hide anything from him. 

“You already have plans.” He says, face carefully blank.

“Yes.” Thank goodness he understood. But wait, his eyes are widening. Why is he making that face? Why is he looking at you like he just figured out—

“You have a date.” Darn it all.

August is bewildered, not knowing what to do with the information he put together. He awkwardly brushes his fingers through his hair.

“...Is he a good guy, at least?” He settles with, asking carefully in that concerned way he does when he looks out for you.

Biting your lip, you nod. “He seems to be, so far.”

“Okay.” August responds. “Does Chrysanth know?”

“It’s nothing serious.” Yet. Yet? Do you want it to be? “You’re the first I’ve told.”

A worrying thought suddenly pops in your mind. Your turn to him, distressed. “Please don’t tell her yet, August.”

“Why?” His frown deepens, like he’s about to ask more questions. Unfortunately for him, you decide you’ve had enough talking about Sanji to your brother for today.

“Aren’t you busy?” You grab his arm, guiding him out of your office. “Don’t you have training to get to?”

“I do, but—why can't Chrysanth know?” You open the door for him and try to push him out, but August plants his feet; still trying to figure you out. He doesn’t budge an inch.

But then he makes that face again. That annoying ‘aha!’ face.

“You really need to go, good luck with training! Tell the knights I said hi—” You manage to shove him out with all your strength, but at the last second before you close the door, August turns around again.

“He’s a commoner, isn’t he?” You slam the door at his face. 

It doesn't matter. Sanji's status will never matter to you. Not when he's holding your hand so sweetly while he guides you through the winding streets of the city. You recognize some shops by name, knowing who owns what and when they established their business. But Sanji knows these streets, and he's more than happy to show you.

“Ah, one moment, my dear.” Sanji pulls you towards a quaint little cart overflowing with flowers. He flicks a coin to the vendor, eyes scanning all the vibrant colors and bursting petals. 

Somehow, without you needing to tell him, he picks one in your favorite color. You're starting to feel like that's just part of being with Sanji—that he knows what you want, and knows what you need before you do.

The flower is soon tucked into your hair, behind your ear. His fingers linger on the side of your face—and normally, you'd break eye contact and shy away. Maybe let out a halfhearted excuse that you should continue on your way. But you don't.

You smile back at him, not bothering to hide the genuine happiness you feel. And when Sanji pulls back, you're already holding out your hand before he reaches for it. There’s something in his eyes. Something that makes you feel like you're walking on air when he tugs you along again.

As planned, Sanji takes you to the chocolatier he told you about. The building is small, tucked between larger shops in the middle of a busy street, but there’s no doubting the quality of their confections.

The elderly chef behind the counter greets Sanji like a grandson she hasn’t seen in forever. She ushers him in, enthusiastically pointing to this and that, saying she moved some furniture around as he suggested.

“It looks perfect, grand-mère.” Sanji smiles, taking in the beautiful glass display. Chocolates of every flavor cover the shelves from end to end.

Grand-mère’s eyes light up when she sees you. She casts an approving look at Sanji, “I like this one. She might even be too good for you.”

“That’s because she is.” Sanji laughs, and you pretend to browse the menu while they talk.

“No need for that, ma chèrie.” The menu is plucked from your hands. Sanji sets it aside, pointing instead to where grand-mère is behind the counter. She's wrapping up a box of chocolates that she hands to you.

“No need to pay, dear.” She smiles, patting your hand. “If he ever gives you trouble, let me know.”

Sanji whisks you away through the streets again. You've never been this far into the city before. Looking back at the path you've taken and not recognizing any of it, you know you’d be absolutely lost without Sanji by your side.

“Almost there.” He tells you, pointing to a cobbled path that inclines upwards. 

What meets you at the top of the path is a small clearing. A stunning tree with blossoms on its branches stands at the center. Flowers and petals flutter away and fall onto the iron bench beneath it.

“Sanji, this is lovely...” You trail off, letting go of his hand to catch a flower into your palms. The flower twirls delicately between your fingers before you turn back to Sanji, tucking the blossom into the pocket of his suit.

Sanji takes your hand before you can pull away, bending down to press a kiss to your knuckles. 

“Not nearly as lovely as you.”

The two of you spent hours under that tree, sharing chocolates and stories—feeling like this is how things are supposed to be. Not necessarily the flowers, or the chocolates, or even the sun setting beautifully in so many warm colors.

Just Sanji. With you, next to you. 

All at once, it sinks in that he could be the dream you've been waiting for. But you don't tell him that.

Being enlightened on your feelings for Sanji becomes a second thought, however, when you’re swamped with work the following week.

“Don’t these people ever get tired?” Chrysanth groans, leaning back on her chair. “Why is planning a festival so hard?”

You approach her desk and place another stack of documents onto it. The numerous piles are getting concerning.

She scowls at the papers, then scowls at you. “Don’t you ever get tired?”

“Of course I do.” You tap a stack of documents to her left. “The guest list for the ball needs to be approved by tonight so we can send invitations out.” She groans again, but picks up the list anyway.

You’re unable to see Sanji as often as you’d like, but you both promised to meet once a week. Even if it’s only for a few short heartbeats together.

You dearly miss him. You think about him as you hand Chrysanth menu plans for the ball. If he saw it, he’d say that he could come up with something better.

She glances at the menu, studying it. Or at least, that’s what you thought she was doing—until her next words proved you wrong.

“So, how are you and that chef doing?”

Your heart isn’t in your chest anymore. It sank down, deep into the depths of the earth. It also must have taken all the air in the room along with it. How did she—

“August?” You blurt out.

Chrysanth shakes her head, “Zeff.” Oh no. Sanji’s boss knows? Does Sanji know that you’re—

“According to Zeff,” She proceeds, cutting off your thoughts. “One of his subordinates has been cooking a lot of personal meals over the last few weeks.”

“I can explain—” But your sister holds up a hand. Your mouth snaps shut.

She calls your name, and then you realize how serious her tone is. “Are you familiar with the kitchen’s rules when it comes to using ingredients and supplies for personal use?”

“...I’m afraid I'm not.” You didn’t know the kitchen had any such rules… but surely Sanji does. Your voice stutters, “I, did—is he in trouble?”

“He isn’t.” She answers, though her expression is still grave. “But I think that you should be aware of how much he’s doing for you.”

Chrysanth opens a drawer to retrieve a list of kitchen rules. Reading it over, everything is standard and straight to the point. You find the answer to your confusion towards the end, a small, nondescript bullet that reads:

All staff must reimburse the cost of all ingredients used for any reason outside of official duties.

“He must know who I am, then.” You say, feeling relieved that he didn’t break some sort of impossible rule. “He wouldn’t have done so much for me if he didn’t.”

Your sister purses her lips, letting the silence linger for a second before responding, “He doesn’t know, love.” She hands you another document. “He’s been paying back every cent out of pocket.”

Tracing over the timestamps and the different ingredients listed, you stare at an outline of your time with Sanji. It’s nice to reminisce, but you can’t help but wince whenever you spot something particularly pricey. What on earth are you to do with this man?

“Zeff recognized your name when he asked Sanji who he was cooking for.” Chrysanth explains. “He didn’t tell him, but he came to me and requested for Sanji to be repaid.”

“Since anything served to me counts as official duties of a royal chef.” You piece together. 

“Exactly.” Chrysanth nods. “However, doing that would expose your title to him. Which is why I wanted to speak to you about this first… You should tell him.”

“I know.” Letting out a deep sigh, you agree. Sanji deserves to know more than anything. Nevertheless, the thought of him changing how he treats you—or worse, leaving—because of your status, frightens you to your core. 

“I’ll talk to him tonight.” You say, but your sister’s expression slowly changes. What did she plan this time?

“Or maybe, you could put the kitchen dates on pause and tell him in a few weeks.” Surprisingly, she hands you an invitation to the ball.

“I can’t bring Sanji as my date.” No matter how much you wish you could.

“Are you sure about that?” Chrysanth is unable to contain her grin. “Open it!”

‘…you are cordially invited to the spring masquerade ball.’

You gasp, “You turned it into a masquerade?”

“Yes, I did. You won’t believe how much convincing it took for the ministers to agree.” She rolls her eyes, but then her smile returns. “Don’t waste my hard work and have fun with your man, littlest sister.”

You laugh, not expecting this outcome after all that. “I love you, even if you made me go through so much emotional turmoil for fun.” She cackles.

“Of course I had to make you sweat after what you put me through.” Chrysanth scoffs, “I can’t believe I had to hear about your love life from Zeff, of all people.”

“Ah,” She says, remembering something. “Speaking of, why’d you guess August first earlier?”

“...”

“...Did you tell him before me?” She gasps. “How could you! Give that invite back!”

“I didn’t think you’d approve.” You admit shyly. “He’s a commoner.”

“If he treats you well—which, he obviously does—I could care less about all that.” Chrysanth reaches for your hand, giving it a reassuring squeeze. “Only those stuck up ministers will react negatively, I’m sure. We can deal with them easily enough.”

When she lets you go, she abruptly adds, “He better be cute though.”

That sends you laughing again. “Oh, Chrysanth, he’s the cutest!”

He certainly is. Especially when he sees you and grins, opening his arms wide in expectation. You fall into his embrace when you’re near enough.

Sanji takes your hand and places it on his arm, leading you away from the kitchens.

“Some of the others are still in there planning for the ball.” He explains. “It seems preparations are keeping us both busy.”

Sanji takes you to the greenhouse, which you’ve never seen at night before. Various patches of vegetables and shrubs line the space. There are trees and flowers towards the back too. It feels like a secret hideout, being here with Sanji. 

“I miss spending more time with you, love.” He whispers.

“Me too.” Your heart melts thinking about how much he gave for you. You wish you had the courage to tell him the truth now, while he’s looking at you like you put up the stars in the sky, but you can’t. You’re not ready yet.

Reaching your hands up, you caress his face gently, brushing your thumb across his cheek. He places his hands over yours, keeping them there. 

Sanji closes his eyes to savor the moment, and you let him. You two stay like that, your hands becoming enveloped in so much of Sanji you feel like you could recognize him with your eyes closed, with a single touch.

There’s a certain familiarity to him at this point. You would probably have some difficulty adjusting back to life without him in it. He’s so familiar that you could probably draw him. He makes you want to try.

“...I was just wondering,” You say with a knowing glint in your eye. Does he remember those words when he said them to you that first night? “We’ve been working hard for this ball, wouldn’t it be a shame not to enjoy it together?”

You give him the invitation, and he throws his head back laughing. You send him a confused look, but it all becomes clear when he pulls out an identical invitation from his jacket.

“Ah, how brilliant you are, mamour.” Sanji embraces you again, and you bask in how perfect it feels to tuck your head into the curve of his neck.

“It will be easy to find you even with a mask.” You murmur into his skin. He shivers. “You’re so goddamn tall it’s not fair.”

“I’m not too worried about you finding you, either.” Sanji begins to sway slowly with you still in his arms. It makes your heart skip a beat. You can’t wait to dance with him.

“Are you confident you’ll find me first, then?” You ask, adjusting your hold around his middle to snuggle in better.

“I’m not sure about being first,” He ponders. “But I’ll be sure it’s you when I find you.”

The greenhouse became your new meeting place while the palace was buzzing to prepare for the ball. You could only meet for a few minutes, but you treasured the time you shared just the same. 

Once, Sanji tried to feed you one of the expensive fruits growing there, but you declined, making up an excuse that you were allergic. He had looked at you strangely, but didn’t press you further.

You couldn’t find the time to see Sanji the week of the ball at all. Your time was spent welcoming foreign dignitaries, discussing business and trade. You and your sister had a marvelous time shutting down a marriage proposal from some duke from the north.

It amazes you how much you’ve changed since meeting Sanji. Had the duke asked before you met him, you probably would have considered it seriously. Whereas now, your standard is far too high. The man you choose must be able to get to your heart by cooking you the best food in the kingdom and all the seas. 

You’re glowing by the time you finish getting ready for the masquerade. The dress you chose is in your favorite color, with the skirt twirling dreamily when you turn. 

Chrysanth permitted you to enter the ballroom a few minutes late to avoid a royal entrance. You use the time to compose what you want to say to Sanji when you tell him the truth.

‘I’m a princess, and I think I might love you’, is that a lot to say? You sigh, smoothing your hands over your dress.

The clock on the wall chimes. It’s been fifteen minutes since the ball officially started. You put on your mask, tying the ribbon behind your head to secure it.

After one last glance at yourself in the mirror, you head to the ballroom—looking much more collected than you actually feel.

Maybe you shouldn’t have bragged to Sanji that you would find him easily, because you don’t.

You were mistaken when you thought all you’d had to do was look for a tall, blond man with a blue mask. (Sanji’s mask is surely going to be blue. He wouldn’t consider any other color. You bet your foot on it.) It’s unnerving how many people fit that description tonight.

You even find your brother before you find Sanji. August is dressed in surprisingly simple, all black attire. He looks more like a gentleman than a commander, lacking all those sparkly medals he’s usually required to wear at events.

“Where’s your date?” August asks, ducking his head slightly so that you can hear him over the crowd. “Chrysanth bragged about setting you two up.”

“I haven’t found him yet.” You answer dispiritedly. “I thought it would be easy.” 

August looks around, and you know that if he knew what Sanji looked like, he would be able to track him down in a flash. You’re about to ask what you should do when August suddenly bows, extending a hand to you.

“May I have this dance, fair lady?” He asks in a fake pretentious accent that instantly makes you laugh.

It would be nice to say yes, but you desperately want Sanji to be your first dance. August would understand. 

But you aren’t able to decline, someone else beats you to it.

“I’m afraid her first dance is spoken for.” Sanji’s voice reaches your ears and suddenly the room is brighter than it was.

You almost gasp, elated that he found you. Were it not for that frown on his face, you would have voiced out your joy.

August and Sanji stare each other down. Neither of them say anything, but it’s clear that their first impressions of each other aren’t the most pleasant. Not liking the hostility you’re sensing is building, you tug at Sanji’s hand. 

Your brother’s eyes soften at that, and he bows again, this time to say goodbye. “I’ll see you later then.”

You watch August go, and Sanji grumbles something you don’t catch under his breath. You'll have to properly introduce them at some point, but worrying about their relationship can wait. You really must cheer up this grump who thought he was going to miss your first dance.

“Dance with me, stranger?” Intertwining your fingers together, you smile and take in how handsome he looks. His suit is still black, but there are several accents in dark blue—the same color as his mask.

The deep navy color makes his eyes look almost crystalline, and you recognize why you love him so immensely when he smiles.

“I would be honored.”

Sanji is more graceful than you expected. His movements are controlled and precise, never moving too fast and always making sure you’re falling into step beside him.

He’s proven, once again, that he can surpass your every expectation. Sanji spins you around, catching you by your waist and grinning before sweeping you off your feet again.

By the end of it, you’re left breathless due to far too many reasons, and they all involve him.

You had tried bringing Sanji to a romantic spot; maybe a balcony, or somewhere by a fountain in the gardens—but it seems that a lot of other people had the same idea.

Everywhere was crowded, but you suppose where you ended up is romantic in its own way. With the sky being cloudless tonight, you could see every star twinkling away through the greenhouse’s glass roof. 

Let the stars bear witness to you pouring out your heart to this man.

“Sanji…” You start, mentally preparing yourself.

“Yes, ma chèrie?” Sanji tucks a lock of your hair behind your ear, you have his complete attention.

“There are things I must tell you.” You swallow the lump in your throat, not brave enough to look him in the eye yet; though you grip his hands tightly in yours.

Sanji waits. He doesn’t complain that you might be holding onto him too tightly, or nag at you for taking too long to put your words together.

When you finally look up to meet his eyes, you find the strength to breathe it out, “...I’m a princess.”

There’s this moment again, when you hold your breath and wait for his reaction; like when you first told him your name. Suddenly, it feels like you’re in the kitchen eating sandwiches with him again.

And, just as it did back then, his reaction surprises you.

His expression barely changes, the only difference being the barely-there furrow of his brows in concern. 

“I know, love.” He says.

“What?!” You drop his hands in shock. “Since when?”

Sanji blinks. “Since the moment we met.”

“But, I—why did you pay everything back? Why didn’t you ever mention it?”

His eyes widen, “Ah, is that why you wouldn’t eat anything from me these past few weeks? I knew you couldn’t be allergic to pineberries.” 

“Sanji, answer the question.” You pout, and he rubs your arms in an attempt to soothe you.

It’s Sanji’s turn to compose himself, you notice. He looks like he wants for your time together to stay lighthearted, when the thoughts in his mind are far from it.

“You didn’t want to talk about your duties, so I never asked.” Sanji shrugs, but you can see him getting nervous. 

“As for reimbursing the ingredients, I suppose I was worried that… you wouldn’t think of our time together dearly if I was just another chef on your staff.” 

Your heart shudders when he lets out a shaky breath. Oh Sanji.

“But that’s the truth isn’t it? I am, and yet I—” He pauses, eyes searching yours desperately. “If I didn’t pay for it, I would be admitting that a chef was all I’d ever be to you.”

You open your mouth to speak, but he cuts you off. “I don’t regret it. I would make the same choice if I had to.” Through the mask, you can see his resolve, but his hands shake as he holds you.

“I didn’t expect to feel this strongly about you.” Sanji continues, “You’re just so lovely, making me feel like I could take on the world for you.”

With your hands quivering the slightest bit, you pull at the ribbon behind your head. Your mask clatters to the floor. Raising your hands towards him, you push his mask up until it’s off, revealing the face of the man who has completely enamoured you; body and soul and all.

You think back to how the colors lit him up beautifully, that one sunset you shared under that blossoming tree. And now, he’s still just as beautiful, in this greenhouse under the moon and the stars. 

You love him all the same as you did then and every moment before. With the weight from keeping secrets gone from your chest, you finally let yourself admit it out loud.

“I love you, Sanji.” You confess. “I’ll go with you, if you’ll take on the world.” You try to say it calmly, but tears build up in your eyes. “You mean so much to me. You’re my dream.”

Sanji inches you closer, wrapping one arm around your waist while his other hand cradles the back of your head. “I love you too. More than you could possibly imagine.”

You quip back at him while wrapping your arms around his neck, “I think I have a pretty good idea.”

Sanji leans in the same moment you do, lips meeting in a passionate kiss that sends sparks running through every inch of your being. He pulls you impossibly tighter against him, strong hands caressing your back and holding firm at your waist. Your fingers rake through his hair, touching him to make sure he’s real. He’s here. He loves you. He knew. He always knew.

That night, you realized that your favorite taste from Sanji is his lips on yours. But, once again, he won’t hear you tell him that.

…

Sanji first saw you when a ceremony was held to welcome the new palace staff.

Everyone’s attention had been on your sister, the queen. Understandably so, but his eyes always strayed back to you. You looked gorgeous, wearing a stunning dress perfect for a princess as yourself. A cape draped tastefully down your back. And your crown sparkled brightly under the sun; but try as it might, it couldn���t be as dazzling as you.

Sanji was drawn to you instantly, and he thought he would go on with his life never understanding why.

That is, until you walked into the kitchen at two in the morning to make a sandwich.

It would have been impossible for him to not recognize you. Regular office clothes or not, something was different in the way you carried yourself. It was difficult to miss.

Other people would have thought you appeared mundane. And yet, Sanji found you the most beautiful then.

Because you let yourself smile more when you don't wear your crown. 

But he won’t tell you that.

© togenabi 2023 | see here to be added to my taglist ♡

tags: @songsofadelaide-archive @amitydoodlez @sweetexistentialism @writingmysanity @hotchocolattee @dimplewonie @hearts4zoro @kenkenmaaa @ay0nha @watercolorskyy @holymusicalmothman @appalost

author's note (yes, again)♡— sooo, what do we think about sworn knight!zoro x princess!reader ? 👀

[whatbigotspost]

Every time I hear someone much older than me talking about how their shame about their bodies and weight have robbed them of all kinds of fun experiences and simple joys and delights in life, it breaks my fucking heart. Older women, in particular, have been shamed into and forced into (and perpetuated themselves) so many stupid narratives about what one "can't do" if you look a certain way. Sometimes they don't even notice it...they'll just casually be saying something like, "I would have loved to play volleyball back in school but this big ass wasn't going to look right in those shorts tee hee" and I'm like that's??? actually??? tragic???????? Especially when it's something they COULD still pursue or try but they've got a fixed mindset about it.

My 84 year old aunt really spent all of her 30s-60s believing that she COULDN'T just put on a swimsuit and enjoy the water in the summer. I have so many memories of this mindset affecting her all summer. Just casually existing by a pool in a swimsuit was something that women who looked like her Could Not Do. This is someone who broke so many gender barriers in her field, who was a pioneer and a bad ass, but who held herself back from something she truly enjoyed for DECADES because she's fat. A couple of years ago she told me how stupid she feels having thought like that now that her age has changed her mobility and safety in going to a pool and it's no longer literally possible for her to do so.

She bought the bullshit and deprived herself of happiness when it was possible, so she lost her chance at hundreds of moments of simple enjoyment she now looks back on sadly.

Really sadly.

I think this is a topic where we can literally see a huge generational change among society right now. The bitchy boomer who says something like, "oh she should NOT be wearing that" when a happy, chunky Gen Zer bops by in a crop top sounds like the death rattles of an ancient relic to most of us in younger generations. After we get over the overt hate that surges when we hear things like that, most of us can see right through that prickly exterior into the deeply damaged, sad, and vulnerable person inside who is the one that's the real problem in the equation.

And yet, while it can be easy to think, "Thank god I'm not like THAT" none of us are truly immune to the messages that are blasted in our faces all the time that still shame fatness and make us feel like we owe society a certain kind of "beauty."

Just keep an eye out for any limiting beliefs you have that are depriving you from joy and delight you want and need. As anyone like my aunt could tell you, you won't someday look back and think, "I sure am glad I didn't do what made me happy all those years!"

[gejo333]

Artist credit: @chocolate_duckling via Instagram or TikTok. It’s so cute I just really wanted to show this artist’s work. This is only the first drawing to the set. 💕You should check them out.

An Unexpected Match IX

Pt. 1 Pt.10

DBF/DILF Miguel O’Hara x female reader

18+ Warning

Summary: Drama goes down at the holiday party😭😱… and did Miguel keep a secret from you?

Will you be able to enjoy your Christmas and New Years in peace?

Happy New Years Everyone!

Sorry this chapter took longer to get out. It’s my largest chapter yet. I apologize for any grammatical mistakes I missed.

Enjoy💕

Wc: 10k

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"Gabi, this is your mother."

Gabi looked at Sofia before looking back up to Miguel as she shook her head. "No, that's not my mama." Gabi glanced up to you, something you noticed everyone in the close vicinity saw, including your parents.

"No Gabi. I'm your real mom. Not her." Sofia put on a fake smile.

Hearing the tense conversation from the kitchen Stephanie came over as she stood next to you, giving Sofia the, 'make one wrong move and I'll fight you bitch,' gaze.

"Hey Gabi, how about you go with Aunt Steph to the kitchen."

"But I want to stay with you and Papa." Gabi looked up at you with sad eyes breaking your heart.

"Mija, remember the conversation we had earlier in the living room?" Said Miguel followed by a slow nod of Gabi's head. "That conversation is going to happen now. So it can only be grownups at the moment." He added.

"We can decorate cookies in the kitchen Gabi." Said Stephanie as Gabi slowly walked over to her before taking her hand. Stephanie looked at you giving you a small hopeful smile before disappearing into the kitchen.

"I'm guessing you need to tell us something?" Said your father as he crossed his arms looking between you, Miguel and Sofia.

Sofia smirked, "wow, your parents don't know that their daughter has been fucking a man almost two decades older than her for the last few months." She chuckled, knowing full well that she just told your biggest secret the most horrible way possible.

"Sofia." Miguel snapped at her warning her to stop. But it was too late. You looked to your shocked and upset parents before scanning around the nearby people who heard the conversation.

"This was not how you were supposed to find out." You tell them.

"Backyard now." Your Father said. Your eyes widen, shocked from his angry tone. You had never heard you father speak to you like that. Not once.

"You. We're not finish yet." Miguel said to Sofia. You'd never seen Miguel give such a muderous glare to someone before, but that plus his cold tone sent a chill up your spine.

"Wasn't planning on leaving any time soon."

"And if I find out you were near our daughter while we're outside. There will be hell to pay." Miguel pointed at you when he said 'our daughter,' which made your heart melt before coming back into reality from the glare Sofia sends you from Miguel's words and you winced when you heard your mother gasp.

All four of you walked out to the backyard, farthest from the house so people can't hear.

Your parents looked at Miguel before looking back at you both upset. The awkward silence continued until your father spoke up: " you care to explain what's happening between you two?"

Miguel looked to you, noticing your panicked stars making you have a hard time to speak.

"I'm in love with your daughter and we've been together for almost five months."

"Y/n, you can't possibly be in love with a man you met only 6 months ago! How did this thing even start?! Was Tyler right? Did you cheat on him with Miguel?" Your mother said going into a rant.

"First off, I do love him, way more than I ever felt for Tyler. And I can't believe you would think I would cheat on that bastard when he cheated on me. Like I told you earlier, my relationship started after I caught Tyler cheating on me."

"Hold on." Your father said as he began to grow more upset. "The morning I came to your house and asked you where my daughter is, she was with you wasn't she? And you lied to my face when my wife and I were worried sick where she was! She's only 21 Miguel. She's too young for you."

"I'm a grown woman and responsible adult. I'll be with whoever I want to be with." You argued.

"Sam, Sarah. She's been well taken care of these past few months." Added Miguel.

"You live with each other?! Y/n when I asked you where you were living you said with Stephanie."

"I did live with Stephanie. For the first month right after I moved out of the apartment I shared with Tyler."

"So, how did this even hap-" asked your farther before being cut off by your mother, "when did you both actually meet?"

Your eyes widen, as your heart began to beat faster. Your gaze turns to Miguel before looking back at your parents pissed expressions. You knew the next few words were going to make everything way worse.

"We did only meet six months ago. But, the first time we did met was in Miami."

"You mean two years ago in Miami? When you were only 19?!"

"You had sex with my daughter when she was 19?!" Your father grew more livid, as he was about to come after Miguel. Of course Miguel would easily be able to hold his own, however you wouldn't see it happen as you step in front of your father.

"Get out of the way y/n." Your father warned you. When you didn't move a second later he grabbed you harshly by the wrist, making you wince as he nails cut into you as he pulled you away.

On instinct Miguel pushed Sam back as he grabs you by the waist and back to him. He quickly checked your wrist, anger rising on his face when he saw the already forming bruises.

"Dont you dare harm her again. We're leaving." Miguel was about to lead you back inside the house when your mother gently grabbed your non-brushed arm and said with a serious gaze,

"We'll stop paying for school. We won't pay for graduate school either, if you continue this." Said your mother, concerned etched on her face. Your eyes widen, anger coursing through your body.

"You're going to make me chose between my education and the man I love? Please don't make me do that. You know what I'm going to chose." You give Miguel's hand a squeeze knowing it would always be you and Gabi first.

"I'll pay for the rest of her education." Miguel joined in.

"That's insane. Her senior year alone will cost almost 50k for one semester. Plus forget about us helping you with your student loan debt. And that's way more than just 50k and that's just undergrad." Argued your mother, trying to scare him away.

"I can easily afford it. Money doesn't scare me away." Miguel shot back, knowing full well the intention behind her words. You looked to Miguel with a confused look before looking to your father who says, "she's too young to handle a world like that."

"Too young to handle what world? Miguel what's he talking about?"

"Mi amor, I was going to tell you soon."

"Wow, little miss perfect really is clueless." Sofia chuckled as she walked into the backyard.

"Sofia, get out. None of this concerns you." Miguel said before you stepped away from him, walking closer to her.

"Hold on, what am I so clueless about little miss bitch?" You bite back.

"I'll give you that sweetie, just because I'm such a nice person. It's kind of funny how you never thought of looking up your boyfriend. But like come on, who doesn't know about Nueva York's most successful, self-made billionaire Miguel O'Hara. And one of Nueva York's top socialite bachelors." Sofia tried to stifle her laughter when she saw your shocked expression.

Your eyes widen, a hurt expression crossed your eyes as you looked at Miguel who looked back at you with a sad and apologetic look before his gaze returned to a vicious glare back at Sofia.

"How did you even find where I lived, Sofia?"

" I found you from a tabloid Magazine of Mr. Richie rich picking up his doting girlfriend at her college. You can't possibly not have known about his wealth. You must be a really good gold digger to fool him." Sofia's words turned back to you.

"I-" You were having trouble finding words to argue back. Luckily Miguel stepped in to save you.

"You must have been oblivious not that long ago, Sofia. Because I remember our shitty relationship ending because I was too poor. And I bet the reason your back isn't for Gabi but because you also found out I have money."

"How dare you think I'm not here to see Abby."

"It's Gabi." You glare at her with a look of disgust that she couldn't remember her own daughter's name.

"Right. Well I'm not leaving anytime soon. I want time with my daughter."

"Over my dead body. You gave up all your custody rights when you abandoned her at my apartment when she was only a day old!" Miguel's voice grew slightly louder, growing more angry by the thought of Gabi being taken away from her family. You put your hand in Miguel's, your thumb gently caressing his knuckles to help calm him down.

"Maybe we should leave." You say to him, which he looked to you, gaze becoming soft as he nodded, still trying to calm down.

You both walk back into the house ignoring your parents yelling at you from the background, ignoring all the stares, and comments. You head to the kitchen as you see Gabi with Stephanie and Jack decorating cookies.

"Hey, thank you for watching her. We decided we're going to leave. I'll see you in a few days." You give Stephanie a small smile as you wipe Gabi's face off from the green frosting with a wet napkin before you pick her up in your arms. You hear your parents back inside as they call out for you, still upset. But you ignore them as you and Miguel leave.

You head to Miguel's car where everything for Christmas and staying in the city was packed. You buckle Gabi in her car seat, placing a kiss to the top of your head a smile escapes your lips as you see her yawn before you get in on the passenger side.

The entire ride to the city was in silence. You were slightly upset at Miguel for lying to you, maybe more upset since you were heartbroken by your parent's heartless reaction about your relationship with Miguel.

Miguel entered a large driveway to a luxurious apartment complex, where a man in doorman uniform came to the window with a welcoming smile. "Good evening Mr. O'Hara. Would you like the car parked?"

"Yes, thank you. Also could you have the things in the trunk sent up to my apartment?"

"Of course, sir."

You and Miguel got out of the car, you grabbed your purse as Miguel carried a now sleeping Gabi in his arms. He handed the young man a $100 tip before he guided you inside the modern apartment complex. Walking inside you were greeted by someone friendly at the front desk.

"Good evening Mr. O'Hara. Welcome back." To which Miguel nodded and smiled to the person in response.

When you entered the elevator Miguel pressed a fob key to a scanner, before the elevator began to move up. You noticed there were no buttons for levels, which you thought was interesting. Your gaze met his, as you saw that he wanted to say something but decided against it.

After a few minutes the elevator stopped and opened up to a vast and nice entry way. When you stepped outside and turned the corner your eyes widen by the massive penthouse. Your gaze quickly switched from the nice interior decoration to the gorgeous night skyline of Nueva York. Maybe if your heart didn't ache you would have enjoyed seeing this view for the first time.

"Cariño, I put Gabi in her bedroom. I know there's a lot we need to talk about. But first I want to say I'm so sorry that I didn't say anything about who I was I-" you turned to face him with a small smile as you interrupted him.

"Miguel, you don't need to give me an excuse. It's your money. Maybe I was a bit naive, as you do have two properties plus you bought one upstate. But I just thought you did really well at your job at Alchemax. Did I expect you to be a billionaire? No. But that doesn't change anything between us. I guess what maybe it hurt a bit. The reason why you didn't mention it was maybe you didn't fully trust me yet. Like maybe what Sofia said about me being a gold digger, maybe you were waiting to see if I was one or not. Or maybe that's just my insecurities consuming my mind. And I'm not even upset. I'm more upset at myself that for even a minute that I was upset at you for it. But I'm not. I just think with my parents reaction and Gabi's mom coming to the party unexpectedly I just didn't know where to put my emotions and I'm sorry."

You look up at him with tears in your eyes, trying to hold them in. But a second later you couldn't hold them much longer as they poured down your cheeks faster than you could wipe them away. You felt arms wrap around you, pulling you  against him into a hug, as he brushed the hair out of your face as well as wiping away your tears.

"I hate to see you this way, mi amor. It breaks my heart when you're hurting like this. You don't need to apologize, at all." He lifted your chin lovingly as he added, "I have always trusted you. Since day one I have always thought of you as a kind and loving person. Even with the slight knowledge that I do well, I never thought of you as a gold digger. That's just Sofia, trying to get into your head. She is a gold digger not you. Also, you are Gabi's mom not Sofia. I might have said that at the moment, cause I just was in shock at the party. At the moment the words to explain how she biologically is her mother was not coming to my mind. You are Gabi's mom. Gabi see's you as her mom and I see you as her mom, as well as the love of my life. And I think we should explain it to her tomorrow morning. And I'm sorry that your parents reacted like that. I knew that they might have been a bit upset, but I didn't think they would act so cruel. But they aren't your only family. Gabi and I are your family just as much as they are. And as your family and your boyfriend I will pay for the rest of your education."

"Miguel... no. I can figure it out on my own. It's my responsibility. And I will find a better part time job to help pay for the rest of college and I will set up a payment plan with my loans. Most people do this."

"Cariño, I can't just stand to the side and let you struggle with debt. Please let me help you." You get out of his embrace, looking up at him slightly annoyed that he won't take no for an answer.

"Are we really going to get in an argument over this?"

"We won't because I'll pay for it."

"Miguel, please just let this one go. Please." You look up at him with pleading eyes, to which he let out a sigh, deciding to let it go for now. He pulled you into another embrace leaning in to place a kiss to your lips which you happily returned. After the kiss you stay in each other's arms, trying to forget all of the stress and worries from tonight.

"Mama, Papa."

You and Miguel turned to see Gabi from the hallway in her Pjs and holding her favorite stuffed Bunny in her arms.

"Oh Baby bug, what are you doing up so late? We thought you were asleep." You say and you and Miguel walk over to her as he picks her up in his arms. You brush some of the curls out of her face and behind her ear.

"I couldn't go back to sleep. And I heard you crying mama and I wanted to give you a hug to make you feel better." Said Gabi as she pouted, not liking the thought that you were sad. You took Gabi into your arms as you gave her a big hug and a kiss on the top of her head.

"I'm sorry if I woke you. I'm alright though, but thank you for your hug. It helped a lot." You smiled which made Gabi's pout turn into a grin as she wrapped her arms around your neck, "I love you mama."

"I love you too my baby bug. Now let's get you back to bed."

"Wait, who was that lady at the party? Papa said she was my mama, but you are my mama." You and Miguel look at each other before you both sit on the sofa in the living room. Miguel picked up Gabi and sat her on his lap as you sat right next to him, putting her feet on your lap.

"I'm sorry if I confused you earlier, princesa."

"I asked Auntie Stephanie and Uncle Jackie, but they wouldn't tell me anything. They just kept on giving me cookies to decorate." Gabi pouted slightly. You internally chuckled when you heard Gabi call your brother Uncle Jackie. You were never going to stop teasing him about that.

"Well I'm glad they didn't tell you because it's better that Mama and I explain it to you." Said Miguel as you noticed he try to stifle a laugh from the silly nickname she gave your older brother. Miguel looked back at you, worry in his eyes. You smiled softly and brushed some of his dark curls that have fallen out of place behind his ear. Even though Miguel has been in the parenting game a lot longer than you, you could see that he was still learning too. He smiled at you before taking a deep breath and exhaling.

" Sometimes not all Mama's and Papa's are biologically related to their children. But that doesn't mean they aren't your Mamas and Papas. The woman you met today, she isn't your Mama. I'm sorry that I confused you earlier. Papa wasn't thinking properly. Y/n is your Mama, but the woman you met today, Sofia, she carried and gave birth to you."

"Are you bio-logitally to me Papa?" You and Miguel lightly chuckled as Gabi tried to pronounce such a big word for her age.

"Yes, I am."

"How did you help that lady bring me to life?" Both your and Miguel's eyes widen from her question as your cheeks tinted pink and Miguel coughed from the sudden question.

"That's a question that will be answered when you're old enough to understand." You chuckle as you pick Gabi up and hold her in your arms. "But even though I didn't give birth to you. You'll always be my daughter and my baby bug. And I will always love you."

"I love you too Mama." Gabi wrapped her tiny arms around your neck again giving you another hug.

"Now let's get you to bed."

All exhausted from the hectic events taking place both you and Miguel got undressed and under the covers, falling asleep right away in each others arms.

The next morning you woke up to the beautiful city view skyline, bringing a warm smile to your face happy to finally enjoy the beautiful scenery before you. You sit up to look for your phone, but notice it was on Miguel's side table charging. Another smile came to your face, as you loved how thoughtful Miguel was to you. Knowing that the sun was up, you knew he would be up any minute so to get your phone you decided to straddle him before leaning over to grab your phone.

You turned it back on a frown forming on your lips as you saw the hundreds of texts and miscalls from your parents and siblings. You scrolled through some of them, and rolled your eyes seeing the repetitive cruel things your parents said yesterday now on text. The messages from your brothers were nicer, just trying to be the bridge between the two disputing sides.

Large hands made their way to your waist, as his thumb gently rubbed circles to your sides. You places the phone to the side as your frown is replaced by a warm smile as you looked down at your half-awake boyfriend.

"Good morning."

"Good morning, cariño. Though I'm really enjoying waking up to you straddling me, I didn't think I would see you frowning first thing when I see your beautiful face. What's wrong?"

You leaned down and gave him a good morning kiss, to which Miguel took the advantage of wrapping his arms around you and bringing you down on to his chest, which made you laugh in surprise between his loving kisses. Placing one more kiss to his lips you place your face in the crook of his neck, enjoying the mixture of his shampoo and cologne blending into a welcoming scent of citrus, bamboo, amber, patchouli and musk. With his alluring smell, the gently combing his fingers through your hair, and the rhythm of his beating heart made you almost fall back asleep.

"I checked my phone, thank you for charging it for me. But I saw what feels like a hundred texts and miss calls from my parents. And it's all the same horrible stuff they were saying last night."

"I'm sorry you had to see that. Obviously they'll be calling us both today. I just say we ignore it for now and enjoy the our time in the city." Miguel said after checking his phone to see just as many texts and miss calls from your parents.

"I think that's a good idea. Oh, forgot to say. Merry Christmas Eve." You kiss up his neck to his chin before reaching his plush lips.

"Merry Christmas Eve, mi amor."

After a few more sweet kisses you decided to unstraddle his lap, to Miguel disappointment. But you tease of a person, whispered in his ear, "I'm hoping Santa Claus visits me tonight. But I think I'm on the naughty list." You gently kiss the side of his neck before getting up from the bed and leaving a blushing Miguel as you quickly put on a pair of his sweat pants and one of your bras and tank tops before going to the elevator where all your things from the car were neatly placed by the doorman.

You grabbed the bags of all the gifts you had bought and bring them back to the bedroom. When you entered, Miguel was sitting up in bed looking at his phone, obviously irritated.

You set the bags down, except for one semi-large box. You get back on the bed as you straddle his legs and place the box on his lap.  "Maybe this will let that iconic O'Hara smile show. Is everything ok though?"

Miguel placed the phone on the bed next to him, surprised to see the box on his lap as his smile reappeared.

"I guess out of spite, your mother gave Sofia my new phone number. And now she won't stop texting me. She's being 'nice.'" Miguel air quotes the word nice before he handed you over his phone so you could see. Your eyebrows furrowed as you saw the sickly sweet messages from her. However, you smiled when you saw the text he sent her back, obviously irritated and asking her not to text him again.

"Enough about the pains in our side. I got you something. Ok, maybe it's for us. But you don't get to see the other part until tonight." You wink at him, which earned a smirk on his lips as he opens the box. His brows furrowed with a smile on his face as he lifted pieces of soft red and white clothing. You decide to get off the bed as you see him get out of bed, getting a nice glance of only him in his boxers before he put on the suit.

Your eyes widen, grin growing, cheeks growing a shade red as you see him in the final product. He wore a deep red Santa suit with white fluff lining down his chest meeting into a middle right above his waist with a large black belt and followed by deep red pants that shaped him just as well at the top part. And it all matched with black boots.

"How do I look?" Miguel smirked. You walk up to him as you placed your hands on his bare chest.

"Really sexy. Maybe too sexy. I don't think I'll be able to keep my hands of you." You chuckle.

"I like the words coming out of your mouth."

"I bet you'll like what my mouth is going to do." You go on your knees, eyes never leaving his reddish-brown. Settled between his legs as you lower his pants and free his erect cock.

You stroked him a few times before you dragged your tongue up his member before kissing his leaking tip. You open your mouth for him to slide onto your tongue and down your throat your lust-filled gaze not leaving his own as a groan escaped his lips.

"Mi amor, your too good to me. I don't deserve you or your pretty mouth." Miguel moaned out as his hand reached the back of your head. His fingers intertwined into your hair as he gently thrusts into your throat. You hum against his cock in approval, earning another groan from Miguel's lips. Miguel gently thrusts more of himself into your mouth; but as this wasn't the first blow job you've given him, you've gotten quite enough practice to be able to deep throat him now. As he continued his movements you continued to move your tongue along his cock.

"Fuck baby, I can't last much longer." Miguel thrusted his cock as deep as it could go before spilling it into your throat. You happily take him all before removing your mouth and licking his tip clean. You slowly wiped your thumb across your lip, as a bit was left on your lips before you licked it off your finger, while your gaze stayed locked on his.

"My god, mi amor. You make me want to ravage you when you do that."

"Why don't you then." You grin, standing up from your spot on the ground. Miguel grabs you and puts you on the bed, as you get on top of you he raises you shirt kissing your stomach up to your breasts, as he was about to take a nipple into his mouth the doorbell rang from the hallway.

"What was that?"

"Nothing hermosa." Miguel said as he took a nipple in his mouth, before lowering one of his hands into your sweats about to finger fuck you. However, the doorbell rang again. A growl of frustration left Miguel as he kissed your lips before getting off of you. He checked his phone, and sighed. "Ese maldito hermano mío. Gabriel's here early. Again. I'm sorry cariño." (that damn brother of mine.)

"It's ok, Miggy. We can continue later. Plus I still have that second part of the gift to show you tonight." You kiss him one more time before getting off the bed.

"I can't wait for it."

After both getting quickly dressed in proper clothing, Miguel pressed a button on his phone that let the elevator come up to the penthouse.

As the elevator doors open, walked in Gabriel with his usual bright smile as he carried in

two bags filled with gifts.

"Y/n! It's so good to see you again! I'm hoping my brother hasn't been tormenting you too much. Blink twice if you need saving." Gabriel  chuckled as he set down the bags as he gave you a hug which you happily returned.

"Juro por Dios..." Miguel lightly glared as he sent him a 'I'm going to kill you,' smile at his brother as he stood right next to you.

"He's been good. And I'm good too. It's nice to see you again. Feels like it's been a while." You chuckle at Gabriel's silly personality.

"Now where's my little sobrina." (Niece)

"Asleep. She went to bed late, so we're letting her sleep a bit longer." Said Miguel.

"Aw, ok. Is she ok?" Gabriel asked, worry etched in his tone.

"She's fine. A lot happened yesterday. My parents , well the neighborhood knows about our relationship now and..." you looked to Miguel.

"Sofia somehow found out where I lived and came to the holiday party and said to Gabi that she was her mother." Added Miguel.

"Yeah, I would probably have a hard time sleeping too. And I can't believe that damn woman shows up after everything she's done." Gabriel eyes widen before a his brows furrowed and a frown appeared on his face, something rarely that happens, by the mention of Sofia's name.

"We decided though that we are going to live our lives and try to ignore it all as much as we can." You said.

"That sounds like a good plan. Now, let me make you all a proper Christmas Eve breakfast, my brother never can get our mother's recipe quite right." Gabriel heads to the kitchen.

"I swear he wants me to punch him." Miguel grits his teeth as he sends a glare to the back of his brother's head. You chuckle as you caress Miguel's cheek.

"How about you go check on your emails really quick in your office and I'll go help Gabriel in the kitchen." You go on your tip toes as Miguel nods before he leans down the rest of the way to kiss you, giving you a loving smile before heading to his office.

You head to the kitchen wear you see Gabriel cracking eggs into a bowl.

"Is there anything I can do to help?" You smile as you wash your hands before drying them.

"Yes, you can. Can you grate some of these cheeses?"

"Sure thing." You smile as you go through the many cabinets trying to find the cheese grater.

"Third bottom cabinet to your right."

"Thank you. It's my first time here, so I don't know where everything is." You go to the right cabinet and take it out before you hoping Gabriel at the kitchen island and started to grate the cheeses for the omelettes.

"If you don't mind me asking, what exactly happened last night?" Gabriel looked over at you with a small smile before looking back at the task before him. You smile back as you tell him everything that happened last night, from Gabi starting to call you Mom, parents finding out about your relationship with Miguel told by Sofia who appeared out of nowhere and causing trouble herself, and then the part about how you didn't know about Miguel's wealth status, also cruelly told by Sofia.

"Wow, that definitely is a crazy night. I'm happy you also know about Miguel's 'status,' he's been wanting to tell you for a long time, but he just didn't know when to say it. I guess he was worried you might leave. But he never said that, but I can just hear it in his voice. My brother has had girlfriends in the past, but he's never loved someone like he loves you. He's heads over heels for you." Gabriel smiles at you as he moved to pour the eggs into the pan.

"Well, I hope he knows this. But I'm heads over heels for your brother. I can't imagine not having him or Gabi in my life." As if on cue Miguel walked into the kitchen, with a loving smile on his face as his gaze met yours. You cheeks tint pink, wondering if he heard you and Gabriel's conversation. He places his hands on your hips as he pulled you into his embrace from behind, taking your chin and placing a sweet kiss on your lips.

"I love you." He said. Your cheeks grew a shade darker. Oh he definitely heard your conversation.

"I love you too."

"Ok, you two. Either get a room or help me with cooking." Gabriel chuckled as he connoted to make the omelettes.

You saw Miguel roll his eyes, as he leaned down to kiss your one last time before he gently pushed Gabriel away from the stove, "I'll do it. You're burning them."

"B-burning them? I'm adding a nice crisp! You make them too watery!" Gabriel argued back as he tried to get back to the pan, though tall and fit he was still no where compared to his older brother.

You smile at the two O'Hara brother, leaving them to continue their banter while you head to Gabi's room. Checking the time, you thought it was smart for Gabi to wake up. You gently open the door, as you quietly walk in. You look around to see the adorable light blue room, filled with a few soccer balls, dolls, and legos filled with butterflies and soccer balls decorated around the room. You kneel down by her bedside. Your heart on the verge of bursting for how adorable she was.

"Good morning Baby bug. Merry Christmas Eve. It's time to wake up." you gently brush some of her brown curls, the same has her fathers, covering her face. Big brown eyes reveal themselves to you, and a small smile appears on her face.

"Mama!"Getting a boost of energy, Gabi sits up to hug you. Lifting her out of bed, you stop, before grabbing her stuffed bunny know that she would want to have that with her.

"How did you sleep?" You step out of her room.

"Good!" She smiled after yawning as she rested her head in the crook of your neck.

"Oh guess who's here?"

"Santa!" Gabi's head popped up as she looked at you with excitement, which made you chuckle.

"Not Santa, it's too early for him to visit yet. He comes during the night. Tio Gabi is here."

"That's even better!" Gabi cheered which warmed your heart as you kissed the top of her head before making your way into the kitchen.

"Guess who's awake." You say, having the two O'Hara brothers turn to face you and Gabi.

"Good morning princesa." Miguel smiled at the loving sight of you and Gabi. He was about to walk over to lift her into his arms, but was beat to it by his brother. "Aw my mini Gabi! My favorite sobrina. I've missed you." You handed Gabi over to Gabriel as he gives her a big hug.

"Tio Gabi, I'm your only sobrina." Gabi giggled.

"Who knows Gabi, maybe you'll get a littler brother or sister one day." Chuckled Gabriel, which made Gabi eyes brighten up as her mile widens. "Really?! Mama, Papa! Will I?"

Your cheeks turn a bright red, eyes widen. Your embarrassment grew further as you felt Miguel hand on your lower back.

"N-no princesa. Not at the moment. But maybe one day." Miguel looks down at you, trying to figure out what you thought.

"Yes, definitely one day. But not at the moment sweetheart."

"Aw ok."

You felt Miguel give you a love squeeze to your waist, pulling you into his chest and placing a kiss to your cheek, hinting that he liked your answer before making his way to his brother, "now let me get a hug from my daughter."

"Papa!" Gabi smiled as she practically hopped out of Gabriel's arms and into her father's.

After breakfast was finished being made everyone sat together at the dinning table. Miguel helped cut up Gabi's omelette, which you smiled at the sight, wanting to keep this moment as a mental image in your head.

You recalled how the topic of having more kids has been brought up a few times recently. You know with Miguel being in his late thirties, he probably wants to get married and have a few more children. And you know that one day he will want to talk about it seriously with you.

And of course you're not against the idea of getting married and giving Gabi a few brothers or sisters, but you know you want to have your career start off first. But you're not sure if Miguel will want to wait that long. Sometimes you forget the age difference between the both of you. Yeah, there are many couples with big age gapes, some even bigger, but probably when both people were both out of school and had somewhat of a career. Of course you know exactly what you want to do, you just haven't gotten to start it yet. Maybe you should ask Miguel about how you get noticed by Alchamex.

"Mi amor? Y/n?" Miguel called out your name, concern seen in his eyes.

"Yes, sorry. I got lost in my own thoughts. What were we talking about?" Your cheeks tuned pink, embarrassed from not paying attention to your boyfriend talking to you.

"It's alright, cariño. I was asking if you wanted to go ice skating in Central Park." Miguel chuckled, he thought your slight embarrassment was cute.

"I would love to."

"Then maybe after we could go see Santa at Macys. I heard he's making a quick appearance here in New York before he flies all around the world to give presents." Said Gabriel, which perked Gabi's attention.

"Can we go! Please!"

"Of course, we can!" Said Gabriel. You looked over to Miguel who sighed to himself, only you catching it. You take his hand and give it a small squeeze, to which he smiled.

"Well then let's get all bundle up to go." You say as you stand up.

After getting Gabi ready and let her go hangout with Gabriel in the living room, Miguel joined you in the bedroom. As you pulled the long sleeve sweater over your head, your met with a kiss to your lips. Thought surprised you smile into the kiss before pulling away.

Miguel goes into his walk in closest, getting warmer clothes for outside. You walk and lean on the doorframe of his closet.

"Hey, can I ask a question?"

Miguel looks at you trying to figure out if its series are not. Seeing that it doesn't seem serious he smiles, "Of course." He says as he pulls his shirt off and puts on the new one.

"I need to start looking for jobs and grad schools in Nueva York. I don't know why I feel weird asking you this. Maybe because your my boyfriend, and I'm really acting my

age right now." You nervously chuckle before adding, "And I know you did the grad/internship program at Alchamex, well they asked you to cause you are a certified genius, before going full time there. I was wondering if you knew when they start looking for new grads and interns." You bit your lip, for some reason your nerves were skyrocketing throughout your body. Maybe because you were asking for genius Alchamex Miguel and not your boyfriend.

"Well, first off. You never should have to feel nervous with me. You know I would give you the world if I could. And I remember you were interested in working in my department at Alchamex. I can look at your resume and transcript when we get back, if you'd like?" Miguel smiled as he looped his belt around his pants before buckling it together.

"That would be really sweet of you. I would really like that. Thank you."

"Anything for you, mi amor." Miguel pulled you into his lap, as he sat down on the leather bench, his shoes and socks next to him.

"Hey, I know the topic of children has come up a few times lately." His words began to make your heart race against your chest. "And I-"

"Are you two almost ready to go?" Gabriel yelled from the hallway.

Not ready to have this talk so soon, as your 99.99% sure of what he is goi by to say. You get out of his lap, "yeah, just getting shoes on. Be right there." You say before turning to face to face Miguel, "I'll go check on those two to make sure they aren't getting into any trouble. Specifically Gabriel." You say before walking out of the closest and out of your bedroom.

"Y/n" you heard your name right when you left the bedroom, but you decide to pretend you didn't hear him as you continue your way to the living room.

After getting downstairs and walking over just a block to Central Park from the apartment and adventuring through the beautiful winter scenic view.

You walked by Miguel 's side gloved hand in gloved hand, Gabriel a few steps ahead holding Gabi's hand.

For it being Christmas Eve, you were surprised by the lack of people skating on the ice. Unknown to you Miguel had called ahead and bought for the ice skating to be almost sold out for a few hours today, letting only a few other people to skate, so it didn't look conspicuous.

"Wow, look! It's so pretty!" Gabi said as she jumped up and down in excitement. "Well he there Gabi. Don't worry." Gabriel chuckled as Gabi tried to pull him to move faster.

By the time all four of you made it and got your skates, you sat down on the wooden bench to get yours on. Miguel came over to you, looking even more like a giant as he had his skates on. After you made sure yours were tight, Miguel lent you a hand and helped you up.

You all made it to the ice rink, and despite skating every year during the holidays since you were younger than Gabi you were slightly nervous to get on the ice. But like every year you swallow your nerves and get on the ice, and as soon as you do you feel happy and relaxed.

You get a few feet from the entrance before swiftly turning around as you see Miguel help Gabi on to the ice. Just like you, you could see the  worry in her eyes as Miguel helped her to step on to the ice. Then as he stepped on to the ice behind her, he began to skate over to you, his hand under her arms to help keep her up. The laughter and smiles on both Gabi and Miguel's face made your heart melt from the adorable site. You couldn't resist as you took your phone out of your pocket and took a photo of them, making sure to show it to Miguel later.

"Look Mama! I'm on the ice!"

"I can see that baby bug. You're doing great." You say as Miguel skates her over to you.

"Now Gabi, you can't lock your knees when you skate. Always make sure they are slightly bent. And don't lean back. And it's almost like walking, your feet are just slowly sliding on the ice. Just like when you slide with your furry socks on the hardwood floors. Now Mama is right in front of you. Do you want to try and skate to her?"

"Yeah!" Gabi nods. As she was told she tried to follow her father'a instructions. As soon as she got a foot away from him, you saw her nerves come back as she begin to freeze, before anything could happen you skate the last few feet towards her as you hold both her hands.

"It's ok, baby bug. I got you. But great job on trying. I remember when I was your age, it took me some time on the once before I felt comfortable enough to skate on my own."

"Like Mamita said, you'll get there when you do. But for now you can skate with us." Miguel skilled and skated up next to the both of you as he took her other hand. You and Miguel begin to skate really slow to help Gabi learn how to properly skate, and to gain the confidence to do it on her own.

After skating for a while together, Gabi finally got the confidence to try on her own, of course with you and Miguel right behind her, just in case she fell, which she did.

After a few tears were shed, and a bunch of hugs and kisses were given to make her feel better, plus a hot chocolate with whip cream and marshmallows made her frown turn back into her beautiful smile.

All four of you decided to take a nice walk through the park.

"Wait! Can I make a snowman?" Asked Gabi as she runs towards the vast amount of snow covering the park.

"Of course!" You say as you follow her into the snowy field. You help Gabi with forming the body of the snowman, however, the little five year old decided to gather up snow into her tiny gloved palms and form a ball.

"Mama, can we throw one at Papa?" Gabi grinned, which made you laugh. "Yes." You mimicked her grin as she passed you the snowball, and made herself another one.

Miguel's back was facing you and Gabi at the moment as he talked to Gabriel. Knowing you wouldn't be able to get close without his crazy good hearing warning you of your presence, you stop just a few feet from him.

"Ok, three, two, one...throw" you whisper yell as both you and Gabi throw the harmless snow at Miguel's back.

Miguel quickly turned around with a surprised face, a smile appearing as he saw both you and Gabi try to hide your laughter. Of course Gabriel couldn't hide his, as he burst out in laughter from his brother's reaction.

"Oh, we want to play like that. Do we know?" Miguel chuckled before he slowly began to walk over to both of you, before jumping into a sprint. You and Gabi ran in the opposite direction, Gabi squealing in delight. Of course you didn't get far before Miguel grabbed you by the waist and pulled you into his chest, however you both lost your balance and fell backwards into a large pile of snow, that was luckily there to make the landing soft. Gabi followed right after you by falling on to Miguel as he caught her with the other arm that wasn't around you.

All three of you laughed, as you laid in the pile of snow. "Mis traviesas niñas." Said Miguel before he pulled you both in for a hug.

"Aww, such a cute family! Makes me want to settle and have one." Said Gabriel as he took a photo of the three of you.

"Well maybe you should, so that you'll bother me less." Said Miguel.

"Nah, you would miss me too much."

Gabi got up, followed by you as you lent a hand to   Help Miguel up. But you noticed the mischievous grin on his face a little too late as he pulls you back down into his chest.

"Miguel!" You giggle before they are deal by a kiss.

"Ok, you two love birds. I got a photo for the picture books, now get up. I'm freezing." Said Gabriel after taking a photo of you and Miguel knowing you both would want these sweet moments saved. He handed Miguel's phone back to him which he had stolen to take photos.

After heading back to the apartment, having dinner, and opening the presents Gabriel brought it was time to say goodnight and goodbye.

"I had a great day with all of you. I hope you have a nice Christmas and new years. I'll see you both next year!" Gabriel said as he saluted off before the elevator door closed on him.

You let out a small laugh after you saw Miguel roll his eyes from his brother's words.

You both head to the bedroom to finish wrapping presents from Santa for Gabi.

"Finally done. Now to put them under the tree." Said Miguel as he lays his head on your lap, relaxed by you combing your fingers through his hair.

"There's one more gift left." You grin down at him as he looks up at you confused.

"Where is it?" Miguel sighs softly thinking it's another large present to wrap from Santa.

"It will be here after Santa puts the presents under the tree." You say with hint of lust in your tone before you lean down and kiss him.

"I can't wait to see what it is." Miguel returns the kiss, getting the hint, as he grins and leaves your lap stacking all the presents as he quietly heads to the living room, careful not to wake Gabi.

You quickly get out of your day clothes already wearing it underneath. You had seen the holiday-themed lingerie when you were shopping, and you knew Miguel would love it.

Putting your clothes in the hamper you rushed to the master bathroom, taking your hair out of the low hanging bun, fixing it up a bit. You check yourself in the mirror happy with the final product. You were wearing dark red lingerie, with a bra that tied in to a semi large bow in the front, which once untied reveals your bare chest. To match you wore the same color panties that had a bit of tulle around it, creating a extremely short, really a skirt, skirt. But who cares, it was going to be tossed to the floor in a matter of minutes anyways.

You checked the time on your phone, it's was midnight, officially making it Christmas. When you hear his footsteps coming, you lean against the bed as soon as he opened the door.

When his eyes met yours, they widened before being filled with lust, as he made his way over to you. He grabbed you by the waist as he pulled you against his bare chest.

"Merry Christmas Miggy."

"Merry Christmas in deed, mi hermosa amor." Miguel looks you over, savoring every single detail of you. He too your chin and gently lifted it as he leaned down and kissed you, Persian galore of himself into you. Your core tightened at the feeling of his hard-on against your stomach.

"One more thing. Pull the ribbon." You smiled against his lips. Miguel kissed your lips one more time before doing as you said. In one swift pull, the perfect bow was gone revealing your chest. You could see the lust cloud his eyes more, and in a blink of an eye you were underneath him on the bed, as his lips kiss down from your neck, down to your breasts. "Tan hermosa." His lips latched on to one of your nipples, hitching your breath letting out a moan. His hand swiftly moved your panties to the side inserting a finger into your aching cunt. Another moan escaped your lips.

"Keep singing for me, cariño." Miguel con tied to mark up your breasts as he thrusted a second finger into you, curling his fingers knuckles deep.

"Mhmm please Miguel." You moaned out as you near your breaking point.

"You want to cum mi amor?"

"Yes, please Miggy." You groan as you feel the loss of his fingers. Before you know it, your straddle on top of him, as he slams you down on to his cock.

"Only good girls get to cum, and I thought you said this morning your were naughty. You want to cum? Bounce on my cock until I think you deserve your release." Miguel grinned.

You lightly glare down at him as his grin widens further. However, the need for your release was too much as you begin to move your hips. You rarely fuck in this position, so the feeling of his cock stabbing deeper into you was heavenly. Your clench against him, earning a groan from him.

"Damn baby, your so fucking tight."

At the pace you were going, your hips began to grow tired starting slowly lose your rhythm. However, Miguel being your savior grabbed your hips and began to move you up and down keeping up with your quick and rough pace. You began to feel your core tighten once again.

"Miguel please. Please." You whine out your brain begins to feel foggy only focusing on the feeling of his thick ridged cock thrusting in and out of you.

"Are you a good girl?" Miguel panted from beneath you.

"Y-yes I am. I'm a good girl. Now please Miguel." You whine out.

"Of course, cariño." Miguel chuckled as he flipped you, now in missionary as his pace quickened, pummeling his cock deep inside you as his balls slap against you. His hand lowered to your clit as he began to rub it with the same ferocity as his thrusts. Another moan escaped from your lips, electricity coursing through your entire body. Your eyes roll back as you feel your release.

Miguel continued to slam his cock deep inside you, causing you to feel your overstimulation coming on.

"Fuck, I love this damn pussy. I love you, y/n."

"I love you to Miguel." You breathed out. From your words Miguel let out groan as he released himself deep inside you, now filled full with his warm seed.

After a few more thrusts Miguel pulled out as he lied right next to you. You turned to face him as one of his arms warped around your waist pulling your sweaty naked body against his. He leaned down and captured his lips before saying, " Thank you for the wonderful Christmas present."

You wake up the next morning to Gabi jumping up on you bed, with a wide and happy smile.

"Wake up! It's Christmas! It's Christmas!"

Luckily after your session with Miguel last night you both cleaned up and got into proper pjs before going to sleep, knowing that Gabi would wake up before the both of you and barge into the room.

"Good Morning princesa. How did you sleep?" Miguel said in his deep and rough morning voice as he smile up at his daughter who was jumping for joy on the bed.

"Great! Santa came! He left a bunch of presents! Can we please open them. Please!"

"Alright, Baby bug. We'll get up." You chuckle as you get out of bed and swoop Gabi off her feet to which she giggled. You set her on the ground right next to you.

"Ok, first let's make coffee for me and Papa and then we will open presents."

After getting coffee you and Miguel sit next to each other on the sofa as you watch Gabi open up her many many many presents.

After she opened all of hers she handed you and Miguel one from under the tree.

Miguel opened his which, was a gift Gabi got for him, with you helping her with the funds to get it.

"Aw princesa I love it. I'll use it all the time." Miguel smiled as he held up a coffee tumblr that read, World's Best Papa and Scientist.

"Your turn Mama!"

You smile as you read the name tag, To the love of my life. From your Miggy. You rip off the wrapping paper to see a gorgeous thin red rectangle velvet box with gold stitching. You open the box, as a gasp leaves your lips. Your eyes lock with Miguel's who smiles lovingly at you.

Before you in the box was a simple but gorgeous Cartier gold chain necklace. In the center dangled three beautiful dark red rubies. Your heart melted as the color reminded you of Miguel's eyes. Even though his were brown, you swore in the light they glistened like beautiful dark rubies. You knew you would never take this off, knowing that a part of him was always with you.

"It's beautiful Miguel. I love it." Tears brim the corner of your eyes as you kiss his cheek before giving him a hug. "Can you help me put it on?"

"Of course, mi amor." Miguel smiled bright, happy you loved his gift. You turned your back as you pull your hair to the side as he put the necklace on you. A tiny chill went up your body as you felt the cold necklace lay against your neck. You trim back around as you looked to Gabi with a smile.

"It's beautiful Mama. You look gorgeous!"

"You look stunning." Miguel says.

You enjoyed the rest of the festive holiday cuddle up next to Miguel on the sofa watching holiday movies with Gabi sitting on the ground distracted with playing with her brand new toys.

You couldn't imagine a more perfect Christmas. A Christmas spent with your new family.

The last few days went by in a breeze. When you Miguel and Gabi weren't staying in the comfort of the warm apartment, you adventure out to the various holiday markets around the city, or gaze at the stunning Christmas decorations.

Today was finally December 31st. You and Miguel decided that with the chaos and drama still being thrown at both at you through text messages and voice mails you decide to have it just be you two and Gabi.

You were in the kitchen making dinner, saying you would be happy to make some classic dishes that you've had with your family.

Arms wrapped around your waist, as a smile graced your lips from a kiss placed to your cheek.

"Everything smells very good, cariño."

"Thank you. Do you want to try some?" You say as you held up a spoon with some of the food. He happily took it and smiled. "That tastes amazing."

"Thank you Miggy."

After dinner was served and happily enjoyed by the O'Hara's you all settled on the sofa as you watch the Nueva York New Years commencement.

You look down to see a sleeping Gabi who was sprawled out on your and Miguel's lap.

"I guess it's time she goes to sleep.She's so adorable." You say quietly as you gently brush back some of her curls.

"She is. I'll take her to bed."

"Ok." You smile as you place a goodnight kiss to the top of Gabi's head before Miguel lifted her up and carried her to bed.

After a few minutes Miguel came back as he sat right next to you on the sofa, wrapping an arm around you to pull you against him.

"Did she wake up?"

"Nope still was out like a light. Nothing can wake her up if she's asleep. Reminds me of a very someone." Miguel looks at you as he chuckled.

"What can I say, I love to sleep." You smile as you  rest your head on him as you both continue to watch the tv.

The count down began on the tv as thousands of voices joined together in time square.

10...9...8... 7... 6... 5... 4... 3... 2...1!

Happy New year!

You joined in with the voices on the tv as you were standing, excitement etched throughout your body. Miguel pulled you against his chest, a big smile on his face before dipping you slightly and capturing his lips with yours. You wrapped your arms around his neck as you deepened the kiss. A few seconds later, your lips parted, lips both slightly swollen. As the New Year's music plays on in the background from the TV all you could pay attention to was Miguel.

"Happy New Year, Miggy."

"Happy New Year, mi amor. I can't wait to see what this year has in store for us." He smiles wide, showing his dimples before leaning down and kissing you again.

____________________________________________

Hope you enjoyed it!💕

Tag List

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[velarisdusk]

Burning Desire

Eris Vanserra x Reader

Series Masterlist Part 4 <- ✦.⁺.✦.⁺.✦ -> Part 6 - Embers to Ice

word count: 17k (AAAAA?) content: [ explicit sexual content, unprotected PIV, BDSM, power dynamics, bondage, gags, sensory deprivation, pain play, spanking, paddling, flogging, begging, degradation, praise | infidelity, emotional infidelity, explicit language, alcohol, drinking, smoking (cigarettes, marijuana), bitches are fake as fuck, bad rebound choices, i.e. casually fucking someone who you KNOW has had an actual crush on you for years and not caring, the Vanserra family is a loving one in this he deserves happiness ] summary: In a depression following being caught cheating, a troubling phone call brings a harsh revelation. Distraught and in need of comfort, you turn to Eris, who's been trying to reach out since that night. He provides the emotional and physical escape you need. author's note: oh. my. god. i've been working on this for what feels like a decade i feel like years have been taken off of my life. school has been killer (negative), writing this was killer (positive), and i hope you enjoy >:)

It’s been two weeks.

Two weeks of rotting in bed, drowning in self-pity, and starting your days with cigarettes and bottles of rum. Over a week ago, you threw your phone into the drawer of your nightstand, barely resisting the urge to post a pity-filled story for your close friends. Before you essentially vanished, you noticed texts from Feyre and Mor. That was nothing out of the ordinary, but you didn't read them, dreading their content. Were they upset? Angry? What did they think of you? Were the messages even about the situation? You couldn't say if they knew or not.

You also received messages from Az, Eris, and Tarquin. Their concern surprised you, figuring that bro code would have outranked you on the list of priorities. But then, were they even still talking? If you were Cassian, you’d probably cut off all communication.

It was a complicated situation. They all worked together and had for years. They couldn’t just walk away; they were bound by contracts. You wondered how practice was faring if it was even happening. By now, they must have realized that Cassian wasn’t speaking to you. Whether they kept things private or shared the news with Feyre, Mor, or anyone else, you had no idea. You hoped they had the sense not to all come downstairs at once after your departure with Cassian. But even if they were careful, it must have been noticeable when they started reappearing suddenly.

Two weeks of these thoughts hurtling through your mind.

You haven’t told your mother why you showed up disheveled at her door in the night. How could you? You couldn’t bear to face her after admitting what you’ve done.

But as the hours stretch endlessly, a surge of loneliness (only the latest of many) finally drives you to your phone. You respond to the texts from Azriel and Tarquin, reassuring them that you’re as fine as you can be. When you open the text thread with Eris, you’re caught off guard.

Hey, just checking in. How are you holding up?

If you need someone to talk to I’m around. Seriously.

Look, I get that it might seem weird coming from me, but I’m genuinely concerned. No strings, I just want to make sure you’re okay.

I’m not trying to pry, but isolation doesn’t help. If you need a break from everything, my line’s always open.

You sit there, staring at the string of messages, each one making you feel a little more seen, a little more cared for. You aren’t even sure you want to acknowledge that right now. It’s almost too much, the kindness wrapped in Eris’ words, especially when everything else feels like it’s crumbling around you.

But Eris’ texts… they’re a lifeline, a small thread of connection in a sea of isolation. You pick up your phone again, reading through the messages once more, feeling the sincerity behind them. The idea of responding, of reaching out, is both comforting and terrifying. But the thought of facing all of this alone, of letting it continue to eat away at you in silence, is somehow worse.

Your fingers start to move, typing out a response before you can second-guess yourself.

you’re not prying, thanks for checking in. captain morgan’s been keeping me company lmfao

No sooner do you turn your phone off and toss it onto the bed beside you does the screen light up again with a buzz. That was fast.

Sounds like he’s good company, but maybe not the best listener. How about a real conversation instead?

You can almost hear the playful tone in his words, a lightness that cuts through the heavy fog of your thoughts. It’s enough to make you smile, just a little, even as the weight of everything else still hangs over you.

Another buzz and his next message appears.

Seriously, if you want to talk, my door’s open. No pressure, just an offer.

You can tell he’s trying to strike a balance, not pushing it too hard but still getting through your head that he’s there. It’s disarming in a way, and it leaves you wondering if maybe, just maybe, you should take him up on that offer.

thanks eris, i might take you up on that. it’s just… a lot rn, yknow?

There’s a pause, the seconds ticking by as you wait for his reply. You don’t have to wait long, and it’s as straightforward a reply as you expected.

I get it. You didn’t make the mess alone, just wanted you to know you don’t have to deal with it alone. And if you want to get out of your place for a bit, my offer still stands. You can even invite the captain as your plus one if that helps.

You smile at that, a small huff of amusement escaping you. The thought of getting out of your old childhood bedroom, of not being surrounded by the same four walls that have seen you at your lowest, is more appealing than you’d like to admit. Maybe a change of scenery, and the chance to talk things out with someone, would help.

Your fingers hover over the keyboard as you think about how to respond. Part of you wants to dive in and take him up on the offer right away, but another part of you hesitates, unsure how it would look if Cassian found out. You decide to keep things simple. You don’t respond.

Without paying any mind to the countless social media, text, and call notifications from your other friends, you open your texts with Nesta and make a FaceTime call. The thought of her blunt honesty is a small comfort in your otherwise bleak current existence.

Her face appears on the screen, and though her expression is one of surprise and concern, you can’t help but feel a twinge of relief.

“Where’ve you been? You look…”

She trails off, her eyes narrowing as she takes in your appearance. You glance at yourself in the small window at the top corner of the screen. Your eyes are puffy and red, your face is pale, and the bags under your eyes seem darker than ever.

“Talk to me,” Nesta says, her voice gentle but firm, as if trying to cut through the fog of your despair.

You draw a deep breath, the weight of your emotions pressing heavily on your chest. “I don’t even know where to start,” you admit, your voice trembling. “Everything feels like it’s falling apart. I’m a fucking mess.”

Nesta’s gaze softens further, her concern palpable. She leans in slightly, her tone soothing yet resolute. “You can tell me whatever you’re comfortable with. I’m here.”

The hesitation is palpable as you search for the right words, the lump in your throat making it difficult to speak. Finally, you find the courage to confess. “I messed up, Nesta. I don’t know what to do. I feel like I’ve ruined everything.”

Nesta’s expression tightens, her eyes flicking to something off-screen for a moment before she returns her focus to you. She runs a hand through her hair, a sigh escaping her lips as she gathers her thoughts. “Just... try to explain what happened.”

You take a deep breath, trying to steady your emotions before asking, “Do you know what’s been going on?”

Nesta’s gaze momentarily shifts away, a flicker of something you can’t quite read passing over her face. “I’ve heard bits and pieces,” she begins, her tone deliberately vague. “But I’d rather hear it from you.”

Sensing her evasiveness, you decide to give her a broad overview. You explain the guilt and confusion you're feeling, how everything seemed to unravel and make the situation worse than you could have imagined. You describe the betrayal and the weight of not knowing how to mend things. By the time you’ve caught her up, your words are coming out through hysterical cries and gasps for air between sobs.

Nesta listens quietly, absorbing the emotional weight of your words. Her expression reflects a mix of sympathy and contemplation as she processes the gravity of what you’ve shared.

“I broke that boundary to hell, Nesta. I ruined everything.” Your voice trembles with the weight of your confession, the words feeling like a leaden anchor pulling you down.

Nesta’s brows knit together, her concern deepening as she tilts her head slightly. “What boundary…?” she asks, her tone gentle yet probing, as if trying to piece together the fragments of your unraveling story.

You swallow hard, trying to steady your breath, but a sniffle escapes you. “They’ve all been pretty flirty with me since the beginning, and Cassian and I… we decided early on that we didn’t mind it?” You pause, glancing down at your hands as you fidget with the red scrunchie around your wrist, twisting the fabric between your fingers. “So we’d just let them like… make comments… touch up on me a little–”

A sudden, sharp gasp crackles through the phone speaker, cutting through your words like a knife. Your eyes narrow as you stare at the screen in confusion. That sound hadn’t come from Nesta; you’d been watching her intently this whole time, and her lips hadn’t moved.

You furrow your brows, your heart quickening with unease. “What was that? Is there someone there with you?” you ask, trying to keep the edge of suspicion out of your voice, but failing.

But her face is the image of calm, save for the confusion in her furrowed brows. “Huh? Oh, it was just the TV,” she says, quickly flipping her phone around to show you the screen. The shaky camera reveals a reality show playing in the background, the exaggerated drama of strangers’ lives filling the awkward silence.

But your gut tells you something’s off. The way her hand shook just a little as she moved the phone, the tension still lingering in her posture. It all feels wrong. Despite her attempt to brush it off, the seed of doubt has been planted, taking root in the back of your mind.

Nesta flips the phone back to face her, and her voice is smooth and encouraging as she speaks. “So, what are you going to do? Are you going to talk to him?”

You hesitate, letting out a sigh as you rub your temple. “I don’t know. I’m scared of what he’ll say, or worse... what he won’t say. I don’t think I’m ready for that kind of rejection, Nesta.”

She nods slowly, her expression softening into one of understanding. “You have to do what feels right for you, but running away won’t make it any easier in the long run. I know it’s—and I’m sorry to say this—your fault, but you still deserve to know where things stand, even if it’s hard to face.”

You shift uncomfortably, the weight of her words pressing down on you. “I know, I just... I need time to think. To figure out what I want, what I’ll do.”

Nesta listens patiently, offering her quiet support as you continue to spill your thoughts. The conversation drifts from your immediate fears to the what-ifs. She shares some of her own experiences, her voice a mix of tough love and genuine care, giving you just enough space to feel heard without feeling judged.

The minutes tick by, and soon you find yourself leaning back into the pillows, the exhaustion creeping in. You talk about other things too, and an hour passes before you even realize it, the conversation winding down naturally, both of you running out of things to say. It’s a comfortable silence now, a brief respite from the storm of emotions you’ve been weathering.

“I should let you go,” you finally say, your voice soft. “Thanks for listening, Nes. I... I needed this.”

Nesta smiles, a touch of warmth breaking through her usual stoic demeanor. “Anytime. You know I’m here for you.”

You nod, feeling a little lighter, if only for a moment. “I’ll talk to you soon.”

As you move to end the call, you hear it—faint, but unmistakable. A voice, muffled but clear enough to make out the words: “No way–”

Your heart skips a beat, but before you can react, the call disconnects, leaving you staring at the screen, that single phrase echoing in your mind. The voice wasn’t Nesta’s, and it sure as hell didn’t come from the TV. You know that voice. It’s familiar in a way that makes your stomach churn, your pulse quicken. The realization hits you like a ton of bricks, a cold wave of dread washing over you.

It was Elain’s. You’re sure of it. You sit there for a moment, phone still in hand, your mind racing. But why would she be there hidden from view? Why wouldn’t she just say hello or at least make her presence known? The questions tumble over each other, forming a gnawing pit of unease in your gut.

Then, like pieces of a puzzle snapping together, the thought hits you: Elain was listening in, but she didn’t want you to know she was there. The secrecy, the way Nesta quickly tried to cover it up. It wasn’t just about eavesdropping. No, it felt intentional, like Elain was trying to gain insight into your situation with Cassian. Your breath catches in your throat as the implications sink in. A cold, hard truth begins to crystallize in your mind. She wanted to know the details because it mattered to her. It mattered because she’s involved—because she and Cassian are…

You don’t want to finish the thought, but it’s there, undeniable and ugly. Elain and Cassian. It explains the secrecy, the way Nesta tried to protect her, and the sickening feeling gnawing at your insides.

The weight of it is almost unbearable, pressing down on you as you sit there, phone in hand, processing the cruel truth that’s just come to light. Elain and Cassian. How? Why? You never saw any sign in their interactions before. The bitterness of the revelation is a sharp, relentless edge in your chest — you need to do something, anything, to shake off this feeling.

You push yourself up from the bed with a determined resolve, your mind racing with anger and the need to reclaim some sense of control. First things first: you need to wash off the remnants of the last two weeks, the sweat and guilt that cling to you.

The hot water of the shower is a welcome relief against your skin, and you let the steam envelop you, trying to wash away the emotions churning inside. You lather up, scrubbing away the sweat and liquor and cigarette smoke, letting the water run over you until you feel clean, both physically and mentally. You stand under the spray, letting the water cascade down your body as if it could cleanse the memories away. When you’re done, you run a comb through your hair, detangling the wet strands with care before blow-drying and styling it, every strand perfectly in place and your arms sore by the time you’re done.

You reach for your phone, fingers hovering over the screen as you debate your next move. Finally, with a deep breath, you type out a message to Eris:

you still up for company?

It’s simple, to the point, and carries the weight of everything you’re feeling right now. Maybe you shouldn’t be doing this, but you hit send before you can overthink it, nerves and anticipation bubbling in your chest. As you wait for his reply, you glance at yourself in the mirror, taking in the freshly styled hair, and the clean skin. You look entirely different than you did this morning. You’re someone in control, someone who knows what she wants. Your phone buzzes.

Absolutely. I’ll swing by and pick you up.

You weren’t expecting that, but you don’t hesitate before replying with the address. His response is swift.

See you in 15.

Your eyes linger on the screen, absorbing his words as you double-tap and leave a heart his message. Something is grounding about the certainty in his response. No hesitation, no questions, just action. You set your phone down and take one last look in the mirror, a quiet determination settling in your chest. He’ll be here soon, and you have just enough time to get dressed.

You see Eris pulling up through your window, the white Jaguar rolling to a stop, and you take a deep breath before heading toward the door. As you walk down the driveway towards him, you catch a glimpse of your reflection in the car’s window. Jean shorts and a hand-cropped t-shirt—casual and understated.

Eris’s eyes meet yours as you approach the car, his expression softening with concern. There’s no sign of the smirk you usually see on his face. Just a steady gaze that feels sincere. He leans over the center console and opens the door for you, a simple gesture, but one that makes your heart feel lighter.

As you settle into the passenger seat, you set your tote bag down in the footwell. It holds a mostly full bottle of Captain Morgan, a pack of Newports, some gum, and a lighter you grabbed on your way out.

Eris’s eyes flick to the neck of the bottle sticking out of the bag before he asks, “Bringing the party with you?”

You shrug, offering a faint smile. “You did say I was allowed a plus one.”

He nods, his tone softening. “That I did... You okay?” he asks, pulling away from the curb.

You glance at him, a bit surprised at the shift from teasing to concern. “Not really,” you admit quietly.

Eris gives a small nod, his eyes still on the road. “Could’ve guessed the answer, huh?” he remarks, the corner of his mouth quirking up slightly.

You offer a wry smile and a quiet “yeah.” You glance out the window as the sunlight reflects off passing buildings. “But I figured getting out of the house might not hurt. What were you thinking of doing?”

Eris keeps his eyes on the road. “I can swing by somewhere if you need to grab something or,” he pauses, a sly grin forming. “Or if you’re up for unwinding a bit…”

You raise an eyebrow, catching the playful glint in his eye. “What are you suggesting?”

He shrugs, one hand gripping the steering wheel casually. “We could stop by my plug’s place and pick something up, if you’re looking to take the edge off. He’s got some good shit.”

You lean back in your seat, considering his offer. The idea of numbing your mind with something other than liquor is very tempting. You glance at Eris, his casual demeanor giving nothing away, but you can sense that beneath the surface, he’s paying close attention to your reaction.

You nod, feeling a sense of resolve settling in. “Let’s do it. I could use a change of pace.”

Eris keeps his eyes on the road, but there’s a flicker of approval in them. “Alright, then,” he says with a grin, shifting lanes smoothly as he changes direction. His hands move with practiced ease, one gripping the steering wheel and the other shifting gears with effortless precision. You glance up from your phone just in time to see him reach into the center console. He pulls out a sleek pack of Dunhills, taps one out, and lights it with a quick flick of his lighter.

The cigarette sits casually between his lips, its ember glowing softly as its smoke curls lazily around him. “Want a cig?” he asks, his tone casual as he cracks his window.

You hesitate for a moment, then nod, reaching out for the cigarette sticking out of the pack. Eris passes it to you with a small knowing smile, his eyes flicking briefly to meet yours before returning to the road and lowering your window for you. You take a drag, the smoke filling your lungs and momentarily dulling the edges of your lingering unease. It’s quite the difference from the menthol kick of your usual Newports. The flavor is richer, with a deep, earthy undertone that’s almost woody. It feels more refined, less about the immediate hit, and more about a lingering, sophisticated aftertaste. You exhale, the smoke curling in the air, and the taste leaves a warmth that’s oddly comforting.

“Helps, doesn’t it?” he glances at you, a touch of curiosity in his gaze.

You exhale slowly, watching the smoke get pulled out the window. “A little… Thanks,” you say, and you both know it isn’t just for the cigarette.

Eris nods, his grin widening slightly. “Anytime. We’ve got a bit of a drive, so just get comfortable. We’ll hit the place soon.”

You settle back as Eris merges onto the highway. The sun is high, casting a warm light over the passing scenery. The rhythmic hum of the engine and the classic rock on the radio make for a relaxing ride. You gaze out the window, watching the landscape shift as the car speeds along. After finishing your cigarette, you hold onto the butt, not willing to litter. Eris is focused on the road, so you just hold onto it, unsure what else to do.

A few minutes later, Eris chuckles and glances over, eyebrow raised. “Were you going to hold onto it the whole ride? Come on, you can’t be serious.”

You give a small laugh, shaking your head. “Well, I wasn’t going to throw it out the window.”

Eris smirks, his eyes flicking to the cigarette butt in your hand. “Just give it to me.”

He reaches over, fingers brushing against your wrist as he tries to take it from you. But you’re quicker, pulling your hand away with a playful glare. “No!” you protest, holding the butt out of his reach. “You’re gonna throw it out the window!”

His grin widens, a mischievous glint in his eyes as he leans closer, making another grab for it. “I won’t, I promise.” And for some reason, you believe him.

He takes the cigarette butt from your fingers and, with a practiced motion, opens the center console and undoes the locking mechanism on a glass jar. He drops it in, the jar already filled with likely a pack’s worth. The jar seals with a soft click, likely why you hadn’t noticed any lingering smell before. He shuts the jar and console, his attention never wavering from the road.

The smell-proof jar, not even considering littering, doing it all while keeping his eyes on the road—it’s the kind of thing that shouldn’t be as hot as it is.

The drive stretches on with the radio playing softly in the background. You watch the scenery blur past as the car weaves effortlessly through traffic. With the windows still cracked, you catch a glimpse of Eris’s auburn hair tousled by the breeze. The sun casts long shadows across the highway, and you find a strange comfort in the steady rhythm of the drive. Eventually, Eris slows the car, steering off the main road and into a sleek, gated driveway. The place is an upscale, modern mansion with neatly trimmed hedges. Not what you expected. He parks near the entrance and turns to you with a casual smile.

“I’ll leave the car running,” he says. “Lock up, I’ll be quick.”

You nod, watching as he gets out and heads toward the front door. The gate closes behind him with a gentle click, leaving you alone in the plush interior of the car. After a few minutes, Eris reappears with a small, discreet bag in his pocket. He slips back into the driver’s seat, the bag placed neatly into the center console.

The car pulls out of the driveway, and Eris’s eyes flick toward you as he navigates the streets with practiced ease.

“Any special spots in mind, or are you up for anywhere?” he asks, the hint of a grin in his voice.

You shrug, a faint smile tugging at your lips. “Nah, yours is fine.”

He gives a teasing scoff, putting a hand on his chest as he speaks. “My place is special, (y/n), you wound me.”

His words pull a genuine laugh from you. It really wasn’t that funny, but hearing your name on his tongue so casually stirs a nervous flutter in your chest.

“What’s so special about it?”

“Besides the view, or the pool, or the game room?” he pauses for dramatic effect, lowering his voice to a murmur. “Yours, truly.”

You raise an eyebrow. “Is that so? And what makes you so special?”

Eris lets out a soft laugh, his gaze flicking to you before returning to the road. “Well, I’ve been told I’ve got a talent for making things unforgettable.”

“Someone’s got a massive ego.”

He grins, his eyes glinting with confidence. “Guilty as charged. You like it though.”

You roll your eyes at that, unable to keep the smile from creeping onto your face any longer. “Yeah, yeah, whatever.”

“Ah, you didn’t deny it. I’ll take it.”

“You’re impossible,” you laugh softly, shaking your head.

As the highway fades into the background, the road before you begins to wind through lush greenery. The towering trees start to crowd in, their canopies forming a dappled, sunlit tunnel. Fields of wildflowers stretch out on either side. The road curves gently, revealing glimpses of a large, elegant house nestled among the trees, its silhouette framed by the tranquil lake shimmering in the late afternoon light.

When you step inside, the first thing you notice is how effortlessly cool the place feels—like it’s been designed with a blend of sophistication and laid-back charm. The living room is spacious and airy, with large windows that let in plenty of natural light, casting a warm glow over the polished wooden floors. The furniture is a mix of sleek modern pieces and cozy, oversized cushions that invite you to sink in and relax.

Eris heads over to a low cabinet and retrieves a small grinder and some neatly rolled-up papers from a hidden drawer. He moves with casual confidence, clearly in his element. You couldn’t help but wonder how many women he’d invited here for a smoke before you, having to remind yourself that this wasn’t that. You’re here as a friend who needs an attentive ear.

“So,” he says, flashing a grin as he begins grinding the weed, “what do you think of the place?”

You settle into the sofa, taking in the room’s ambiance. The walls are adorned with tasteful art, and the scent of cedarwood and something subtly herbal fills the air. It’s inviting.

“Not bad, huh?” Eris continues, leaning against the cabinet and looking down at the papers in his hand.

You chuckle, glancing around. “Yeah, it’s alright.”

His eyes dart up to meet yours, a playful, mock-surprised smile on his face. “Crazy…” he murmurs.

You roll your eyes with a smile. “Oh come on, you know it’s a nice place. I'm not gonna shower you with more compliments than you need.”

He chuckles, shaking his head as he sits on the couch, starting on the joint. The sound of the grinder and the rustle of the papers are the background to your conversation. “Fair enough. But before we get too cozy with this,” he nods toward his work, “let’s talk. I’d rather hear how you’re really doing.”

You hesitate, feeling a bit vulnerable all of a sudden. “I don’t know if I can get through it all sober.”

Eris looks at you with a soft, reassuring smile, his fingers pausing briefly as they work the paper. “Just try.”

For a moment, you’re silent, the sound of the grinder filling the space between you. You look around the room, at the art on the walls, the low light casting a warm glow over everything. It’s easier to focus on that than on the storm inside your head.

But then you find his gaze again, and the quiet concern in his eyes makes something inside you crack, just a little. "It’s just… everything’s been so overwhelming lately," you begin, your voice soft. "I keep making these choices that… I don't know how to explain it… I’m digging myself into a deep, deep hole. And I don’t know how to get out." You hesitate as you try to find the right words. “It’s just… I don’t even know why I let it happen. I mean, I love Cassian, he’s everything to me. But every time I’m with you,” the words catch in your throat, and you quickly clarify, “with all of you, I mean… I feel like I’m losing myself, like I’m just drifting through all of it without thinking. It’s like I’m not even in control anymore.”

Your voice trembles as the floodgates open, the words spilling out faster than you can stop them. “And the guilt… it’s eating me alive. Every time I’d see Cassian, it was like I was drowning in it. When we went to sleep at night, when he’d kiss me, when we cooked dinner, when he’d tell me he loves me and I said it back with a straight face, knowing what I’ve done… I keep asking myself why I did it, why I kept doing it, but I don’t have an answer. I don’t even know if I’m looking for one or if I’m just trying to justify something that can’t be justified.”

You take a deep breath, trying to steady yourself, but the weight of it all is too much. “I thought I could handle it, that I could keep everything separate, but it’s all tangled up now. I’m tangled up. And I don’t know how to fix it, or if I even can.” You pause, swallowing hard as you try to gather your thoughts. Focusing on how methodically he rolls the joint is the only way you can keep from crying. “The past couple of weeks have been a nightmare,” you continue, your voice barely above a whisper. “Every day feels like I’m just… going through the motions. I wake up, and for a split second, everything’s fine. But then it all comes crashing back, and I remember what I’ve done. It’s like this constant weight on my chest, and I can’t breathe.”

There’s a heavy silence as you finish, the room feeling almost too quiet. You glance at Eris, the exhaustion in your eyes reflecting your need for a break from the emotional turmoil. “I can’t keep talking about this right now,” you say, your voice wavering slightly. “I just need to… I don’t know.”

Eris nods, a knowing look in his eyes. “Yeah, I got you,” He stands up, moving with a relaxed confidence, and heads towards the kitchen. You watch him, feeling a small flicker of relief at the prospect of a distraction. He returns with two glasses of ice, setting them down on the coffee table before lighting the joint and pointing towards your bag for the rum. When you reach to pour the drinks, he gently takes the bottle from you, pouring them himself.

You take the glass when he offers it, the alcohol warming your insides and helping to dull the sharp edges of your thoughts. Eris hands you the joint, a small, encouraging smile on his lips. “Here’s to a temporary escape,” he says, his tone lighter now.

You take a slow drag, letting the smoke fill your lungs and the effects of the alcohol and weed start to mingle in your system. The combination is soothing, and you feel the tension begin to ease. As the minutes pass, you can feel the fog of intoxication settling in, and your thoughts become less jagged.

A while later, the room is darker now, the only light coming from the soft glow of the lamp on the side table. The drinks are empty and the bottle of rum you brought stands proudly, and emptily, in the center of the table. The joint is long finished, and the conversation has shifted from heavy to light. You and Eris are more relaxed on the couch, and the air is filled with more classic rock, the remnants of laughter, and the gentle hum of your voices.

You lean back, feeling pleasantly buzzed, the haze of the alcohol and weed wrapping you in a cocoon of warmth. Eris is sitting right next to you, his leg pressed against yours, his hand resting casually on the cushion next to you. The shared warmth and comfortable silence between you feel natural.

“You know,” you say, your voice slightly slurred but lighthearted, “I didn’t think I’d find myself here tonight, like this. But... I’m glad I did.”

Eris glances over at you, a small smile playing on his lips. “Sometimes the unexpected turns out to be the best part of the night.”

You chuckle softly, the sound mingling with the music playing in the background. “Yeah, it’s funny how things work out. I definitely needed this more than I realized.”

He nods, his eyes softening as he looks at you. “It’s good to let go now and then. Just don’t forget there’s still shit to unpack when you’re ready.”

You let out a deep sigh, your gaze drifting around the dimly lit room. There’s a moment of hesitation as the weight of your earlier conversation looms on the edge of your thoughts. The alcohol and weed have softened the edges, but the heaviness is still there.

Eris shifts slightly, his hand moving a bit closer in the process. Whether it was intentional or not, you don’t know. “You know,” he says gently, “it’s not every day you find someone willing to listen without judgment. You should take advantage of that.”

You take a deep breath, feeling the pressure build behind your eyes. “Cassian… he’s been nothing but loving, nothing but kind to me. And it kills me, Eris. It kills me to look at him and know that I’ve betrayed him in the worst possible way. Multiple times.” You feel the lump in your throat as you continue, the warmth of the alcohol making it easier to let your words flow. “I keep trying to think of ways to fix it, to find some sort of answer or way to redeem myself. But...” Your eyes search the dim room as if trying to find some clarity in the shadows.

“I keep going over every moment, every decision, wondering where things went so fucking wrong. It’s like replaying a movie where I know the ending is tragic, but I can’t look away. I did this shit to myself…

“The hardest part is that he saw everything. He didn’t even need me to confess; he saw it with his own eyes. And everytime I replay that night, I think about how coldly he looked at me. He’s never looked at me like that before. Not that I don’t deserve it.” You glance at Eris, the weight of your emotions clear in your eyes. “I’m trapped in this cycle of guilt and regret, and it’s suffocating. I don’t even know what I’m looking for anymore—whether it’s forgiveness, understanding, or just a way to get rid of all this guilt. The thought of facing Cass again… God, I can’t…”

Eris’s eyes narrow slightly as he takes it all in, draping an arm across the back of the couch. You aren’t quite close enough for it to wrap around you.

You mentally chastise yourself for wishing you were. Thinking like that is what got you into this mess.

His voice is low but steady when he speaks. “You’re human. You made choices. Bad ones, sure, but it doesn’t make you a monster.” He pauses, his gaze intense. “It’s easy to get lost in guilt. But you’re not doing anyone any favors by going MIA. Especially not Cassian.”

You scoff. “Cass doesn’t want to talk to me.”

“How are you so sure?” he asks, his fingers drumming lightly against the couch, the rhythm steady and patient, unlike the chaos unleashed in your mind by the simple question.

The Facetime with Nesta shoves itself to the forefront of your mind as if your subconscious has been holding it back all this time. You’d heard Elain’s voice in the background, imagined her laughter mingling with Cassian’s, imagined him sharing her breath, his tongue deep in—

The thought hit you like a sucker punch, just as the air had been knocked out of your lungs the moment you’d put the pieces together.

“I’m pretty sure Cassian is fucking Elain,” you blurt out, your voice shaking with the weight of the confession.

Eris’s expression doesn’t change, but his eyes sharpen. “Why do you think that?” he asks calmly, though there’s a new edge to his voice.

You swallow hard, the memory still raw. “When I was on a call with Nesta, I heard Elain in the background. She was trying to listen in on me ranting about this all to Nesta… She didn’t even say hi to me, didn’t let me know she was there. Why would she do that unless she was hiding something?”

Eris raises an eyebrow, his expression skeptical but curious. “You might be reading too much into this,” he says, but the sharpness of your gaze makes him backtrack quickly. “Alright, alright, I didn’t mean it like that. Just… how are you so sure they’re involved?”

You exhale sharply, frustration evident. “Cassian is incredibly vindictive in bed,” you say, thinking back to all the times he’d gone hard on you just for catching you making eyes at one of the guys. “I’ve been through his friends, I’d be more shocked if he didn’t try to go through mine.”

Eris’s eyes narrow thoughtfully. “Most of his friends.” He doesn’t elaborate but the implication is clear. “I’m not saying you’re wrong, but it’s not always best to assume the worst.”

A fleeting thought crosses your mind. Eris is right. You and he never crossed that line, despite the heated moments over the years, despite the events the night of Ianthe’s party. If Cassian is dropping you off on your mom’s doorstep just to go after your friends, maybe it’s time for you to stop moping around and start embracing some fun yourself. Why should you sit at home and stew when he’s out there doing who knows what? Who knows who? For all you knew, Nesta had fucked him too. And, honestly, Eris doesn’t look half bad in that black, fitted t-shirt and tailored jeans, the thin silver chain around his neck glinting in the low light. There’s a roguish charm about him, just as there’s always been. It’s something that makes him undeniably tempting.

You look down at your lap with a sigh, a feigned sadness in your eyes, and a playful pout on your lips. “Well, if Cassian’s going to do whatever he wants, maybe I should too.” You look up, letting your gaze linger on him, lowering to his lips before meeting his eyes again.

Eris’s eyes flicker with surprise, but he maintains his cool as he raises a brow. “Is this where we’re headed now? I thought we were in the middle of something a bit more serious.”

You scoot closer to him, close enough for the hand on the back of the couch to rest on your shoulder if he wanted it to. “Maybe I’m tired of pitying myself. Or maybe I’m feeling adventurous.” A glint of mischief sparkles in your eyes before you slip back into your act.

Eris chuckles, a faint smile curling his lips. “A distraction, huh? You know that won’t fix anything.”

You shrug, maintaining your demeanor. “Who says it has to be about fixing anything? Sometimes a little distraction is just what you need,” you level. Tired of the theatrics, you scoot even closer and grab that god-forsaken hand, placing it gently on the back of your neck.

Eris’s fingers linger there, his expression shifting from playful to intrigued before he traces soft patterns on your skin. “Is that right? And here I thought you were just looking for a friendly ear.”

You lean closer, your voice dropping to a softer, more flirtatious tone. “You mean to tell me you didn’t have any other intentions? Not a single fleeting thought?”

Eris’s gaze drops to your lips, his eyes narrowing with intrigue. “So, what are you suggesting? Are we breaking some rules tonight?”

You let out a soft laugh. “Yeah, something like that. A night of enjoyment. No strings attached, just...”

Your words trail off as you close the distance between you, your lips meeting his in a slow, heated kiss. His hand grips the back of your neck, pulling you closer as the kiss deepens. It starts slow, almost exploratory, but quickly deepens as you both lose yourselves in the moment. The taste of liquor lingers on his tongue, a heady mix of rum and something uniquely Eris. You savor it, letting the alcohol-infused warmth of the kiss sweep over you. Your lips move against his with increasing urgency, and you gently tug at his lower lip, pulling him closer.

Eris’s hand tightens around the back of your neck, his fingers sliding into your hair as he angles his head to deepen the kiss. His tongue meets yours with a bold, almost possessive stroke, and you pull back just slightly, your breath mingling with his. Your eyes lock, the heat still palpable between you. “I like the taste of you,” you murmur, a playful glint in your eyes.

He exhales, a low, throaty sound that’s part groan, part sigh, as if you’re unraveling him with every word, every touch. It’s the kind of sound that sends a shiver through you, making you feel like you’ve got him right where you want him. His eyes darken with desire and amusement before he leans back in to capture your lips again. This time, the kiss is more intense, a dance of passion and need. His hands roam to your waist, pulling you even closer. The world outside seems to fade away as you both lose yourselves in each other.

Eris’s lips trail down to your neck, his breath hot against your skin. You arch into him, the sensation of his touch making you shiver. You let out a soft moan as he kisses a sensitive spot just below your ear, making your pulse race. You’re left feeling lightheaded from the drinks and the smoke, and every touch, every caress feels electrifying. His hands slide up to your back, pulling you tighter against him, if possible.

His lips return to yours, and this time, the kiss is unrestrained, filled with a raw, urgent need. You can feel the strength in his arms, the way he holds you close, as if afraid that letting go might make this moment slip away. He pulls back just enough to look into your eyes, his gaze smoldering. There’s a breathless pause, the intensity of the moment hanging between you. “You said you were feeling adventurous,” he says, and you shrug. “How adventurous?” His voice is low and his words are laced with an intensity that wasn’t there before.

You let out a soft laugh, the sound almost breathless from the heated kiss. “You’re not planning on taking me out back and murdering me, are you?” you joke, looking out the large windows at the sea of tree silhouettes around you.

Eris’s lips curl into a half-smile. “Well, I hadn’t thought of it, but now that you mention it…”

You nudge him playfully, your smile widening.

Eris’s expression turns serious again, though the amusement in his eyes doesn’t fade. “I promise, nothing like that. But I do have something in mind that might be a bit… beyond what you’re used to.”

You look into his eyes, feeling a mix of anticipation and excitement. “I sincerely doubt that,” you say, your voice steady. You’ve had more than your fair share of sexual escapades, indulging in all kinds of experiences in past relationships. And with Cassian, the bedroom was never without a spark—rarely did things stay simple.

Eris’s eyes brighten with satisfaction. “Good to hear.”

He stands and grabs another joint he’d rolled earlier, offering you a hand to help you up. You take it with a playful smile and follow him.

The music fades as you follow Eris down a short flight of steps. The hallway is lined with eclectic art and framed photos. One with Eris surrounded by a bunch of dogs, a grin on his face that’s more genuine than you’ve ever seen. Another with the Vipers, his arm slung casually around Azriel, all of their faces flushed with victory. You have to talk yourself out of paying too much attention to Cassian in that one. There��s even one of him with who you assume is his family, standing in front of a cabin, all smiles and warmth. It’s a side of him you’ve never seen before, and it makes you see him in a different light—one that’s more personal, more real.

At the end of the hall, a large bookshelf stands against the wall. Eris pauses, throwing you a sly glance before reaching for one of the books. He pulls it, then pushes the bookshelf open, revealing a short set of steps leading down into a hidden space below. How cliché.

“After you,” he murmurs, gesturing for you to step inside.

You look at him with creased eyebrows, to which he only gestures his arm in again. You find a lounge, set slightly lower than the rest of the house, with five or so steps leading down into it. The room is richly decorated, with dark wood paneling, plush seating, and warm, ambient lighting that adds to the intimate, secluded atmosphere.

Eris follows you inside, closing the bookshelf door behind him. The room is completely private, a hidden sanctuary within his home. He steps closer, holding the joint he rolled earlier between his fingers. “What do you think?” he asks, his voice carrying a note of quiet pride.

You take a moment to absorb the space, your eyes drifting over the rich details—the king-size bed on the far wall, the soft glow of the lighting, the floor-to-ceiling mirror on one wall, the smooth texture of the dark wood, the way the room seems to envelop you in warmth. It's intimate without being suffocating, luxurious without feeling ostentatious. You notice cabinets discreetly integrated into the walls, their contents hidden behind polished doors. A smirk tugs at your lips as you turn to face him. “I can honestly say I wouldn’t have expected this from you, Eris. A sex dungeon? Really?”

Eris arches a brow, looking mildly offended. “Dungeon? That’s what you’d call it?”

You raise an eyebrow in response, your teasing tone unwavering as you gesture around the room. “Isn’t that what it is? Hidden room, dark wood, all the ambiance… seems like a dungeon to me.”

He steps closer, his eyes narrowing playfully. “Dungeons are cold and grimey. This is a private lounge, a sanctuary, carefully curated for… specific tastes.”

You can’t help but laugh, the sound echoing softly in the room. “A curated sanctuary, huh? You really do have a way with words.”

Eris’s lips curve into a smirk as he reaches for your hand. “Words, among other things.”

He lets the words hang in the air, a knowing smile tugging at his lips. You arch an eyebrow, leaning in slightly as if challenging him. “Among other things?” you echo, your tone playful. “Care to elaborate?

He steps closer, his gaze steady and full of intent. “You’ll find out soon enough,” he replies, his voice smooth as silk. “But first, I need to know how far you’re willing to go.”

Your heart skips a beat, not out of fear but from the thrill of the unknown. You’re no stranger to pushing boundaries, and something about Eris’s confident, almost predatory demeanor only heightens your anticipation.

Instead of answering directly, you take a step closer, closing the remaining distance between you. “You really think this kind of thing is—What was it you said? ‘Beyond what I’m used to’, was it?” you tease, your lips curving into a smirk.

Eris’s smile widens, his eyes gleaming with challenge. “Alright, alright,” he murmurs before he pulls you in by the small of your back for another heated kiss, and he speaks against your lips. “You have full say in how this goes, I don’t want to go any further than you’re okay with.”

You pull him off by the hair on the nape of his neck, and the muted hiss that escapes him shoots straight to your core. “Oh, well if I’ve got full say,” you say, sarcasm lacing your words. “Give me whatever you think I can take, and then some.” You give him a dazzling smile, but he can only look at you in wonder.

His hands find your waist, giving the flesh there a tight, possessive squeeze. He leans forward, bringing his lips to your ear. “C’mon, pretty girl, strip for me.” His voice is low, almost coaxing, with a soft yet commanding tone that makes your skin tingle.

Though you’re surprised at his suddenness, you don’t hesitate. As you begin to strip away your clothes, Eris steps away, moving toward a large set of deep drawers. He looks back at you as he goes, drinking in your every movement as you peel off each item of clothing. First you shed your shirt, then the shorts, followed by your socks, underwear, and even the scrunchie on your wrist. The air thickens with anticipation as you wait, rather impatiently, to see what he’s looking for.

“Y’know, most guys wouldn’t have their back turned to the beautiful, naked woman in their basement,” you muse, examining your nails as you stand perfectly tall.

“First, it’s not a basement.” He turns to you, black rope in hand, his smirk tinged with an emotion you can’t quite place. “But you’re right, baby. I’m sorry. How about I make it up to you?”

You have to suppress a shiver at his words, or maybe it’s because of the cool air on your bare skin. He takes you in like it’s his first time seeing you, like he didn’t have you practically grinding against the heel of his hand two weeks ago. You’re not sure if it’s the substances in your system or the prospect of doing whatever he can imagine to you, but he feels different today than he had then.

Eris reaches into one of the drawers and pulls out a small, sleek controller. With a quick press of a button, a rig begins to descend from the ceiling, the soft hum of the motor filling the room. He keeps his eyes on you, holding the controller loosely in one hand as the rig stops at around eye level.

His tone is almost casual as he walks back towards you with the rope, the controller goes into his pocket. “Ever use one of these before?” You can only shake your head in response as you walk around the metal hook, thinking for the first time that you may be in over your head. “Good. Go ahead and kneel there for me.”

Eris moves behind you as you kneel, working the rope through the rig and instructing you to place your hands behind your back. The rope isn’t as rough against your skin as you anticipated. His hands work with practiced ease, securing your wrists together. He steps back, watching you with a satisfied expression. Then, with deliberate slowness, he begins to raise the rig, the rope tugging your wrists upward. The position forces you to stand as it continues to rise, his eyes narrowing as you do.

Once you’re in position, bent forward with your arms forced behind you, Eris steps closer again, his fingers tracing the line of your spine. “You look so good like this,” he murmurs against your ear. His fingers skim up your arm, lingering at the nape of your neck. His touch is almost tender, a stark contrast to the tension in the room. “Is it okay if I–”

“Do whatever you want,” you interrupt, your voice steady even as your heart races. “If I don’t like it, I’ll let you know. Just do something, please…” You needed a distraction from your thoughts, and the newness of this all was sobering you up.

A slow, approving smile spreads across his lips as he nods. Without another word, he goes to a cabinet, selecting a few items with deliberate care. When he returns, the scent of him envelops you as he carefully ties a blindfold around your head, plunging you into darkness.

You hear the soft rustle of fabric and the click of something plastic. Before you can dwell on it, the world goes silent as something is placed over your ears. The shift is sudden, disorienting. The subtle hum of the room, even the sound of your own breathing, everything fades away, leaving you in an almost eerie stillness.

The rope tugs uncomfortably, but not painfully, at your wrists, the tension in your arms pulling you taut. Your heart pounds, each beat echoing in your chest, reminding you of the vulnerability you’re allowing yourself. Then you feel it—a gentle tap on your jaw, followed by his thumb brushing against your lower lip, pulling it down slightly. You take the hint, opening your mouth for him. The next thing you feel is cool metal pressing against your lip as he slides a ring gag into place.

“If you need to stop,” he says after raising an ear of the sound-canceling headphones, “shake your head and I’ll check on you. Nod if you understand.”

Just as you do, the pad is back over your ear.

You feel the air shift as he moves around you. Deprived of your sight and sound, your body becomes hypersensitive to every touch, every brush of fabric, every subtle shift in temperature. The tension in the air is palpable, your anticipation growing with each passing second.

A light touch trails down your spine, causing you to shiver involuntarily. The sensation is followed by the warmth of his hand as it settles on your hip, steadying you. You can barely hear your own breath, the sound muffled and distant, heightening the sense of isolation. Then, a gentle tap against your inner thigh. You instinctively spread your legs, the vulnerability of the action sending a rush of heat through your body as his touch lingers, waiting.

Then, without warning, a sharp sting lands across your ass. Your body jerks in response, the sting quickly dissolving into a low, throbbing heat. The unexpected strike pulls a soft whimper from your gagged mouth, but before you can even process it, another comes, and then another, each one precise and measured.

The blows alternate with the soft caress of his hand, the contrast between pleasure and pain pushing you deeper into the headspace he’s crafting for you. The strikes aren’t overwhelming, but each one is enough to remind you of the power he holds in this moment, the control you’ve willingly surrendered.

You lose track of time, each sharp strike followed by soothing touches, the rhythm lulling you into a dazed, almost meditative state. The gag keeps your mouth open, forcing you to focus on the steady rhythm of your breathing, each inhale and exhale carrying a mix of adrenaline and endorphins. The warmth of saliva trickles from the corners of your mouth. The rhythmic stinging across your ass slowly transforms into a heated, throbbing warmth that radiates through your body. Each strike, followed by the soft caress of his hand, leaves you in a heightened state of arousal and anticipation, melding into pain and pleasure that lull you deeper into the experience.

Suddenly, the warmth of his touch disappears, and you’re left in disorienting solitude. The absence of his presence makes you acutely aware of the emptiness left behind, amplifying your anticipation. Without warning, you feel something cool against your inner thigh, followed by the unmistakable sensation of a vibrator pressed against your dripping cunt. It’s startling, and though you can’t hear it, you moan, loud and needy.

His hand is on your hip, steadying you as the vibrations increase in intensity. The buzzing becomes loud and clear as he gently pulls the headphones off, and you hear them thud as they fall somewhere. The sudden reintroduction to sound is jarring as the room’s noises flood back in—the loud hum of the vibrator, the sounds you hadn’t realized you were making, the now husky tone in his voice. Each sound is more vivid than before.

Eris’s voice breaks through this new sensory flood, warm and approving. “You’re doing so well for me, baby,” he murmurs, his tone a soothing balm. After being spanked, then paddled for God knows how long, between his calm, reassuring voice and the relentless vibrations against your cunt, you aren’t sure how long you’ll last.

His fingers replace the vibrator, brushing lightly against your clit. He teases your folds, just enough to drive you wild with need. You squirm against the rope, desperate for more contact, for release.

“You want more, don’t you?” Eris’s voice is low, almost a purr as he leans closer. His breath is warm against your ear. “Tell me what you need.”

He rubs slow circles against you, his fingers like fire against your skin. You try to articulate what you need, but the gag muffles your words into incoherent sounds. The frustration of being so close and unable to finish draws an exasperated groan from you, and he responds with a deep, dark chuckle. Eris’s touch withdraws entirely, leaving you in aching anticipation. The sudden absence of his touch is maddening, your body craving the completion he’s denying you. You can’t see him, but you can feel the warmth of his presence lingering near.

Minutes pass, or maybe just seconds—time has lost all meaning in this swirling haze of sensations. Without warning, you feel the sharp sting of a flogger grazing your inner thighs, just enough to remind you of his control. The flogger’s strikes alternate between gentle taps and more forceful hits, never quite enough to satisfy your growing desperation, but enough to keep you on edge. Each touch pulls you further into the comforting fog he’s woven, and your whimpers morph into sharp yelps of pain, each one more urgent than the last.

“Poor thing,” he murmurs, his voice laced with mock sympathy. “Does it hurt, baby?” His tone is tender, but there’s a sharp edge beneath it that promises much more pain.

You groan, the sound a mix of frustration and need, but Eris’s expression hardens. The flogger lands on your skin again, a sharp crack that reverberates through your body. He grips the hair at the nape of your neck tightly, yanking you closer until your breath mingles with his. You can feel the heat of him, the solid presence that’s both terrifying and intoxicating. His lips hover near your ear, his breath raising goosebumps on your skin.

“Do you have something to say?” he asks, his tone noticeably darker and more dangerous. There’s a tense, almost impatient edge to it, a sign that stepping out of line is not an option. “A complaint? Are you ungrateful for what I’m giving you?”

The flogger’s strikes become more deliberate, more vicious. Each one lands with a stinging, biting pain that blossoms across your skin, the sensations mingling with the ache of your muscles straining to hold the position he’s put you in. He’s toying with you, savoring your helplessness, the way your body trembles and arches under his control, the way your breath hitches in anticipation of each new strike.

“Who’s in charge?” he whispers in a slow, deep voice, every word dripping with malice. You try to answer, but the gag in your mouth turns your response into a pathetic, muffled sound. Your eyes squeeze shut in frustration, tears of helplessness welling up and quickly absorbed by the blindfold. You can’t form the words, can’t tell him what he wants to hear, and that only makes it worse.

He clicks his tongue, a sound of feigned disappointment, and tugs your hair again, forcing your head back. “Ah, couldn’t quite catch that,” he sneers, his eyes gleaming with dark amusement.

You whimper, the sound a pitiful mix of plea and frustration, and he chuckles, a dark, cruel sound that sends a fresh wave of heat pooling in your belly. He’s enjoying this — enjoying how easily you bend to his will, how every strike of the flogger makes you jerk forward with a cry. He wants to see it all, the way you crumble under his touch, the way you surrender every last shred of control and hand your worries away to him.

“I control how this goes,” he growls. “You said you’d be good for me, baby. Did you lie? Do I need to stop treating you like a good girl? Because I can do that if that’s what you want.” The flogger strikes down in the middle of your back with a crack that feels like it splits you open, and you cry out, the sound desperate. Your body lurches forward, but Eris’s hand is still in your hair, holding you in place, forcing you to stay still, to take every single lash he’s giving you.

“Look at you,” he hisses, his voice dripping with condescension. “So fucking needy. You love this, don’t you? Being my little toy, something I can break however I feel like.”

The words cut deep, the filth of them sending shockwaves through you. You hate how true they feel, how much you crave the pain, the degradation he’s giving you. The flogger strikes again, harder this time, and your knees almost buckle from the force of it. But you don’t fall. He won’t let you.

“Oh, you like when I treat you like this. You like this a lot better than before, I can tell. You’re just a fucking hole, aren’t you?” he continues. “A pretty little slut who’ll do anything to please me. Do you even have any shame left, or do you need me to fuck some sense into you?” The flogger descends again, and again, each strike punctuating his filthy words. “I’m going to break you, baby. Turn you into the perfect little slut who’ll take everything I give and then beg for more. And you’ll love it, won’t you? You’ll love being nothing but my whore, thinking about nothing except wanting my cock.”

Each word, each degrading, filthy word, sinks into your mind, pushing you further into the haze of submission. The pain of the flogger, the sting of his words, they’re all you can think about. Your world narrows to just him — his voice, his hands, the way he’s tearing you apart and building you back up, molding you into what he wants, what you need.

He pauses, the flogger still resting against your skin, the rough leather a reminder of what’s coming next. He drags it slowly down your back, letting it scrape over the welts he’s already raised. The sensation is entirely new, a subtle pleasure and pain that leaves you trembling.

“You feel it, don’t you?” he murmurs, his tone a bit gentler now, but still laced with that underlying cruelty. The change gives you whiplash. “I can see it. You want to be good for me, don’t you? You want to show me just how perfect you can be.”

The flogger strikes again, and you gasp, the sound a desperate cry. But this time, he doesn’t stop. He strikes again, and again, the rhythm relentless. Each lash pulls you further from the chaos of your thoughts, dragging you into a dark, twisted place where nothing exists but him. The pain and pleasure blend together until you can’t tell where one ends and the other begins.

“You’re going to remember this, baby,” he promises. “You’re going to remember how it feels to be mine, to be owned. And you’re going to beg me for it again, aren’t you? You’re going to come crawling back desperate for me to use you, to turn that pretty little mind off and break you all over again.”

He’s right. You can feel it, deep in your bones, in the way your body responds to him, in the way your mind clings to every word he says.

Eris’s eyes never leave your face, his gaze predatory as he watches you fall apart for him, unraveling under the weight of his dominance. You’re exactly where he wants you — lost in the moment, completely detached from anything and everything happening outside these walls. As the flogger comes down one last time, sending a final, searing wave of pain through your body, you know that this is exactly where you need to be tonight.

Finally, when you’re trembling, he lowers the flogger and returns to your clit, the light, teasing touch of his fingers reigniting the fire within you. “You feel that, baby?” he whispers, his tone teasing. “Feel how wet you are for me? You like when I hit you, don’t you?” He drags two fingers up your center, gathering your slickness on them before bringing them up to your open mouth. “How badly do you want to come?”

You nod, desperate to show him how much you need this, but he’s not finished with you yet. “Tongue out,” he purrs, his voice a low, silky command that sends a shiver through your already trembling body. Without a moment’s hesitation, you obey, sticking your tongue through the cold metal of the ring gag. A string of saliva spills out at the motion, glistening in the low light, and you hear a soft, satisfied exhale from him.

Eris drags his fingers down your tongue, cleans them off inside your mouth, pressing them against your tongue. “Can you taste how badly you want it?” His voice is a dark, teasing caress, each word wrapping around your mind, sinking deeper into that place where only his voice and touch matter.

You can’t respond, not even attempt to, but the question is rhetorical anyway. He doesn’t need an answer; he knows. He withdraws his fingers, leaving your mouth empty, yearning for more. The loss makes you whimper, as does the ache in your jaw — a pitiful sound that he savors as he continues, his tone a mix of mockery and care.

“You can taste how good I’m making you feel, how much you love it when I hurt you. You want to taste something better, baby?”

Before you can process what he means, you hear the familiar flick of a lighter, the soft his as the flame catches. Your heart thumps in anticipation. A moment later, the smell of weed fills the air, earthy and heady.

Eris takes a slow, deep drag from the joint, holding the smoke in his lungs for a moment before he leans in close. His lips brush against the edge of the gag as he exhales, blowing the smoke directly into your mouth. It’s so unexpected, so sudden, that you choke, your body convulsing slightly as you try to inhale and cough at the same time.

The thick, pungent smoke fills your lungs, burning them and reigniting your high. You can feel him watching you intently, relishing the way your body reacts.

“Breathe, baby,” he murmurs, his voice deceptively gentle. “I want to see how much you can take.”

Your chest heaves as you fight to draw in air through the second cloud of smoke he blows your way. He chuckles, and with an almost casual motion, he reaches up and unfastens the gag, pulling it away from your mouth. The relief is immediate, but it’s laced with the residue of his control, the taste of smoke lingering on your tongue.

“There we go,” he coos, running his thumb over your wet, trembling lips. “Such a good fucking girl, taking what I give you. But we’re not done yet, are we? No, you’re going to give me more, right?”

His thumb presses against your lower lip, parting your mouth slightly, and you instinctively suck on it, the action almost automatic. Your body responds to him without thought, driven purely by the need to please, to submit, to give him everything.

When he finally, finally begins to untie you, his hands are gentle but firm, his touch careful as he releases the ropes one by one. The sensation of freedom is almost overwhelming after being bound for so long. But before you can fully process it, his hands are on you — supporting you and guiding your arms back down slowly and carefully. He pulls the blindfold from your eyes, and you try to readjust to the lighting.

He’s taking another pull, holding the joint between his lips as he takes you in. But that isn’t what stops you in your tracks. At some point during your immobility, he’d rid himself of his shirt, and you couldn’t stop your eyes from taking him in. His hair is tied back into a bun, strands having fallen loose around his face, and his chest is covered in a glistening layer of sweat. Images of Eris spanking you, walking around you and assessing where to land the next blow, of the muscles in his arms flexing as he strikes. The hungry look in his eyes and the tightness of his jeans as he watches you writhe under his touch.

“How do you feel, baby?” he asks, his tone teasing with an undercurrent of genuine curiosity. “Did I get you there? That nice little headspace where it’s just you and me?”

His voice is soft, but there’s an edge of satisfaction in it as if he already knows the answer. “Did it help?” he continues, his fingers brushing against your cheek. “Did I get you out of that busy little head of yours?”

You nod, still dazed by the intensity of the experience. You’d felt blissful before, sure, but this was entirely different. This was unadulterated endorphins and adrenaline. He grins, the expression both proud and wicked. “Good,” he murmurs, his voice a soothing balm against the lingering sensations.

But he doesn’t stop there. He leans in, his lips brushing against your ear. “Now, let’s see how long I can keep you floating, yeah? You’re not done yet.” Eris tosses the flogger in the general direction of the shelf it goes on, and guides you with a commanding yet gentle touch to a mat on the other side of the room, placed in front of full-length mirrors. The surface underfoot is soft and inviting, and he helps you kneel in the center, the plush cushioning molding to your knees. He moves behind you, his hands brushing along your arms until they rest on your shoulders, a comforting weight as he leans in close. He hands you the joint, inviting you to take a few hits before handing it back. The smoke in your mouth, in your lungs, it only boosts the floating feeling you have from the experience of this all.

“Look at you,” he murmurs, his voice a low, velvety whisper that wraps around you like a warm embrace. “So beautiful, so ready. But I need you to understand something, sweetheart.” His hands slide down your arms until they reach your wrists, guiding them up to the back of your head. “I need you to be ready to trust me completely. How far I push you now is all about helping you relax, so you can completely lose yourself.”

He pauses, letting his words sink in, his breath warm against your ear. “This isn’t about making things difficult, not for either of us. It’s about you letting me guide you through this. I want you to be my good girl, to follow my lead and take everything I give you.”

His hands rest on your shoulders again, squeezing you lightly. “You’re going to do everything I ask, aren’t you? You’ll be obedient, you’ll let me push you, because you know I’m going to take care of you, don’t you?” His voice is soothing, like honey, and you can’t help but melt into it. “You’re going to give me all of you, every last bit, and in return, I’ll give you everything you need. Remember how you begged for this last time we were together? I want you to be that good girl for me again.”

As his words echo in your mind, you recall the last time you were with him, at Ianthe’s party. The memory is all too vivid — your desperate need, your willingness to surrender completely. You had been so open, so eager, voicing all your desires and pleas. The way you had let go of all inhibitions, the intensity of your submission, and the way your words had spilled out in a fervent, almost frenzied confession. The memory is as intoxicating now as it was then, all things considered.

His words are a gentle invitation, luring you in with a calm confidence that makes it impossible to say anything but yes. You feel hesitant as you consider the depth of your commitment. The tension in your chest tightens for a moment, but then you nod slowly, your voice soft. “Yes,” you murmur, the word barely a whisper but laden with an unspoken promise to embrace whatever he asks of you.

Eris’s fingers brush lightly over your hands, guiding you to interlace your fingers. He steps back to observe you, his eyes raking over your form, taking in every detail. The floor beneath you is hard, unforgiving, but his presence—his authority—keeps you grounded. The anticipation builds as he circles you slowly, like a predator assessing his prey.

“Knees wider," he orders, his voice still soft but with a firm undertone that brooks no disobedience. You adjust, spreading them further apart, feeling the strain as your muscles stretch. You watch him through the mirror, watch how he gives a satisfied smirk as you obey. You finally see how blissed out you look. A dewy sheen of sweat covers your body, your chest rises and falls deliciously with each breath, and your skin is red where you remember him flogging you. You couldn’t imagine what your ass and thighs looked like; red as fire, you imagined, if the lingering, stinging pain was anything to go by.

“Arch your back for me.” His hand is at the small of your back, applying gentle pressure until you curve just the way he wants. The uncomfortable position has you on edge, completely exposed, and yet there’s a strange comfort in the way he controls you, in how thoroughly he’s taking over your body and mind.

Eris takes his time, relishing the sight. “Look at you, already so perfect for me,” he purrs, his hand trailing down your spine in a slow caress that sends shivers through you. “You’re going to stay just like this, sweet girl, you hear me?”

You nod as he runs a hand over your head in a soft caress, trails that hand down your spine. Then, without warning, his touch sharpens—a sudden, firm grip on your hips, followed by the sting of his hand against your ass. The first slap is light, almost playful, but it quickly escalates. The next one lands harder, and he pauses to run his hand over the reddened skin, soothing it briefly before delivering another, even harder.

"Does it hurt, baby?" he teases, his voice a low murmur in your ear. "Or does it just make you want more?" He doesn't wait for an answer. Instead, he continues, alternating between sharp spanks and gentle caresses, pushing you to embrace the pain, to find pleasure in the way he’s handling you.

"You’re so good for me," he continues, his tone dripping with satisfaction. "Taking everything I give you. I bet you love it, don’t you? The way I’m making you feel?" He chuckles a bit at your lack of response. “You can speak now, sweetheart, I took the gag off for a reason.”

You hadn’t realized you’d been holding your breath. “Hurts…” you manage to whimper, your muscles shaking. “Hurts really good. I want more.” He spanks you again. Hard.

“Is that how good girls get what they want?” he asks, eyebrows furrowed and you recover from the sting of pain.

“No, I’m sorry,” you rush out, wincing from the pain of the spank, the soreness in your legs and arms. It’s too much. “Please, will you give me more?”

He takes one last, long drag from the joint, finishing it off and throwing the roach towards a bin. He drags his fingers down your back again, only to grip your hips and pull you further back, adjusting your position until you’re even more exposed, your knees straining to hold you up. The discomfort is intense, but the way he’s pushing you has you on the brink of something deeper, something more primal.

Finally, he moves in front of you, his eyes dark with intent. He cups your chin, lifting your gaze to meet his. "If you want more you’ll have to work for it, baby.” You nod eagerly and he smiles endearingly. “You’re going to show me just how badly you want me," he says, his voice a mix of tender command and raw desire. "And you’re going to do it the way I like."

He steps closer, guiding your face until your lips hover just in front of the zipper of his jeans. "Open that mouth wide for me," he coaxes, his thumb brushing over your bottom lip before pressing it down. "That’s it. Nice and wide."

You obey without hesitation, the need to please him overwhelming everything else. He pulls you into him, his hand resting over your interlaced ones, rubbing your face and mouth into the denim. You feel pride at the way his cock grows stiffer without having taken him into your mouth. You can only imagine how good it must feel to get fucked by that cock, to have it slam into you from below when you ride him, to take it so deep down your throat you can’t even taste his release. A low ‘Now, look at that’ pulls you out of your thoughts, and you look up to see his arms crossed over his chest.

“I don’t even have to ask you to keep going,” he says, his voice laced with arrogance. Your ears turn red with embarrassment when you realize you’ve been practically nuzzling your face against his cock, but oddly, there’s a twisted sense of contentment mingled with it.

He takes his time undoing the button and zipper of his jeans, mere centimeters from your still-open mouth. No one can make taking jeans off hot. No one except Eris, apparently. His fingers tangle in your hair, pulling you closer, but not too much—just enough to remind you who’s in charge.

Your breath catches in your throat at the sight of him. His cock is hard and throbbing, a rich, warm shade of pink with a slight flush at the tip. The girth is impressive, making your mouth water with anticipation. It stands proudly, the pre-cum at the tip glistening slightly under the dim light. You lean in, ready to take him into your mouth. The heat and tension in the air are palpable, and you’re just about to close your lips around him when he gently but firmly grips your hair.

"Not yet,” he murmurs, a playful edge in his voice. “You’re in a hurry, aren’t you? I haven’t given you permission yet.”

You pause, your lips hovering inches away from him. Your eyes flick up to meet his, a mixture of frustration and amusement dancing in your gaze. “You’re cruel, you know that?” You drop your arms, the strain of holding them there finally too much. He notices the shift, but to your relief, he doesn’t say anything, letting it slide.

Eris smirks. “Cruel? I prefer to think of it as… thorough. You wouldn’t want me to rush, would you? A little patience never hurt anyone.”

Your eyes narrow playfully. “Patience, huh? I expect a good reward afterward.”

He raises an eyebrow, his grip on your hair loosening slightly. “Is that so? And what kind of reward are you hoping for, baby?”

“Something a little more satisfying than just this,” you say with a teasing smirk, your wit finally returning after being silenced for so long. “I’m thinking you could make all this worth my while.”

Eris chuckles softly, looking down and relishing the view of his cock hovering over your face. “I will, without a doubt. But you need to be patient,” he repeats. His eyes linger on you as he shifts, rubbing his cock slowly against your cheeks and lips. The touch of his skin is warm and firm, and each movement is calculated, gliding with a teasing pressure. The pre-cum at the tip leaves a subtle, slick trail that only adds to your arousal.

You feel the ridges and veins of his cock brushing against your skin. His touch is firm but purposeful, making sure you feel every bit of his arousal. He takes pleasure in the way your lips part involuntarily, the way your breath hitches with each stroke. Eris’s breathing grows a bit heavier, his gaze intense as he watches your reactions, savoring the build-up and the control he exerts.

As he continues, he lightly traces his cock along your jawline and over your closed eyelids, creating a delicious blend of sensations. The warmth of him mingles with the coolness of the room, heightening the contrast between the two. He pauses occasionally, teasingly pressing his cock against your lips or rubbing it against your forehead, only to shift and start again.

Your need intensifies with each passing moment, the teasing just shy of maddening. You try to keep your composure, but the craving to have him in your mouth is overwhelming. Finally, unable to bear it any longer, you whisper, “Please… let me.”

Eris’s lips curl into a satisfied smirk, clearly pleased with your plea. “Now that’s what I like to hear,” he murmurs, his grip tightening slightly in your hair as he guides you closer. “Go on, baby.”

With a soft breath, you lean in, finally closing the small distance between you and him. The moment your lips wrap around the head of his cock, a soft groan escapes him, and it sends a thrill through your body.

Slowly, you take him deeper, your tongue gliding along his length, savoring the warmth and the weight of him. The slickness of his pre-cum makes it easier to slide him into your mouth, and you hollow your cheeks as you move. His fingers thread through your hair, guiding your rhythm, and you can feel the tension in his body, the barely contained control he holds over himself.

You focus on the sounds he makes—the low, husky breaths, the occasional hitch in his voice when you find a particularly sensitive spot. Each reaction spurs you on, encouraging you to take him deeper, to push the limits of your own control. Eris’s voice, rougher now with desire, breaks through the haze of your focus. “That’s it, just like that,” he praises, his grip on your hair loosening slightly to let you set the pace.

His hips start to move in time with your motions, a slow, steady thrust that matches the rhythm you’ve established. You relax your throat, taking him in further, feeling the head of his cock brush against the back of your throat. The sensation is overwhelming, yet you revel in it, the sheer intimacy of this act, the way you’re entirely at his mercy, yet completely in control of the pleasure you’re giving him.

Eris’s breathing grows more ragged, the tension coiling tighter within him. He watches you, his gaze heavy-lidded with lust, his usual composure slipping just enough for you to see how much he’s holding back. The knowledge that you’re the one drawing out these reactions from him makes you bolder, urging you to take him deeper, to drive him closer to the edge.

But just as you think he’s about to let go, he pulls back slightly, halting your movements. “Not yet,” he breathes, voice strained but firm. “I’m not done with you.” His words are a promise, and though you’re aching to continue, you obey, releasing him with a mix of anticipation and frustration.

Eris's hand slides from your hair to your cheek, his touch gentle now. He leans down, his lips brushing against your forehead in a brief, almost tender kiss before he straightens up. Without a word, he helps you to your feet, his hands steady and reassuring as they guide you toward the bed.

He lowers you onto the soft sheets with care. The roughness from before has melted away, replaced by something softer, almost reverent. As you settle onto the bed, Eris kneels at the edge, his hands gliding over your thighs, spreading them slowly.

He looks up at you, and there’s a tenderness in his eyes that makes your heart stutter. But just as quickly as it appeared, it fades away. He’s silent as he leans in, pressing a gentle kiss to the inside of your thigh, his lips lingering there for a moment before he continues, trailing soft, slow kisses up your leg. Each touch is feather light, as if he’s savoring every inch of you.

When he reaches your core, he pauses, his warm breath ghosting over your most sensitive spot. The anticipation is almost too much to bear, and you feel a shiver of desire run through you. But instead of diving in, Eris takes his time, pressing a soft kiss just above your clit, then another, slightly lower. His lips are gentle, tender.

Finally, his mouth closes around you, and he begins to work with a slow, deliberate pace, his tongue moving in languid strokes that send waves of pleasure through you. There’s no rush, no urgency—just a steady, sweet rhythm that makes you feel cherished in a way that takes your breath away.

His hands slide under your thighs, lifting them slightly as he brings you closer to his mouth, his tongue swirling in a way that’s both gentle and utterly consuming. Each movement is tender, every touch filled with a quiet, unspoken affection. He takes his time, coaxing soft moans from your lips with each delicate flick of his tongue, each gentle suckle.

The pleasure builds slowly, like a tide rising within you, and you can feel yourself teetering on the edge, not from overwhelming intensity, but from the sheer tenderness of it all. Eris’s name escapes your lips in a soft, breathy moan, and he hums in response, the vibrations sending a fresh wave of sensation coursing through you.

He doesn’t stop, doesn’t rush you to the peak, but lets you linger in the sweet, tender pleasure for as long as possible. It’s only when your body begins to tremble, when you’re right on the brink, that he finally picks up the pace, his tongue moving with a little more pressure, a little more focus, guiding you gently toward the release you’ve been craving.

And when you do fall, it’s into the softest, most blissful release, the kind that leaves you feeling weightless and utterly at peace. Eris stays with you through it all, his mouth never leaving you until the last tremor of pleasure has faded, and then he pulls back, pressing one final, lingering kiss to your trembling thigh. When he does pull away, it’s with a soft, almost reluctant sigh. He moves up your body with the same tender care, his hands trailing lightly over your skin, leaving a path of warmth in their wake. When his eyes meet yours, there’s a softness there.

Eris doesn’t rush. He leans down to kiss you, his lips brushing against yours in a way that’s more about comfort than urgency, more about reassurance than demand. His mouth moves slowly, languidly, tasting you as if he has all the time in the world.

Your hands find their way to his back, sliding up to tangle in his hair, pulling him closer as your body arches instinctively toward his. There’s a quiet, almost reverent intensity in the way he touches you, his hands moving to cradle your face as he deepens the kiss, his tongue sweeping against yours.

He shifts slightly, his hand sliding down to grip your thigh, hooking your leg around his waist as he settles between your thighs. You can feel the hard, insistent press of him against you, the heat of his skin melding with yours, and it sends a fresh wave of desire coursing through you.

“Are you ready?” he murmurs against your lips, his voice soft.

You nod, breathless, your eyes meeting his with a trust that’s unspoken but absolute.

Eris presses a soft kiss to your forehead before lining himself up with your entrance, and with one slow, deliberate thrust, he fills you completely. The sensation is overwhelming, a perfect blend of pleasure and comfort, and you can’t help the soft moan that escapes your lips as he begins to move.

He sets a gentle pace, his hips rolling in slow, deep strokes that leave you gasping. There’s no rush, no frantic rhythm — just a steady, measured movement that builds a different kind of tension. Eris’s hands cradle your face, his thumbs brushing gently over your cheeks as he watches you, his gaze never leaving yours. Each thrust is accompanied by a whispered word of encouragement, a soft murmur of praise that only heightens the intimacy between you.

Your bodies move together in perfect harmony, each roll of his hips sending sparks of pleasure shooting through you. The world narrows down to just the two of you, the softness of the sheets beneath you, the warmth of his body above you, and the gentle rhythm of your bodies coming together.

Eris leans down, his forehead pressing gently against yours, his breath warm and ragged as he moves inside you. “You feel so good,” he whispers, his voice husky, laced with a deep sense of awe. “So perfect.” His words send a shiver down your spine, the intensity of the moment wrapping around you both.

He shifts his angle slightly, his hips pressing deeper, and you gasp, your fingers digging into his shoulders. The new angle has him hitting just the right spot, each thrust making your toes curl with pleasure. “Eris…” you moan, the sound of his name on your lips seeming to spur him on.

“Right there?” he murmurs, his lips brushing against your ear as his hand trails down to grip your hip, holding you in place as he drives into you with slow, deliberate thrusts. “I want to hear you, baby. Tell me how it feels.”

“It’s so good,” you gasp, your voice trembling with the intensity of it all. “You’re perfect, Eris, just like that.”

His pace increases slightly, still measured but with a growing urgency that matches the heat building between you. Each thrust is powerful, and precise, and sends waves of pleasure rippling through your entire body. You can feel the sweat starting to slick your skin, your breaths coming out in short, desperate gasps as he brings you closer to the edge with every movement.

“Look at me,” he commands softly, his voice gentle yet firm, and when you do, you find his gaze locked on yours, his amber eyes dark with lust and something deeper, something that makes your heart stutter. “I want to see you when you come,” he adds, his voice dropping to a rough whisper, his thumb brushing tenderly across your cheek as his other hand slides between your bodies to find your clit.

The moment his fingers touch you, you’re lost. He circles your clit with slow, deliberate strokes that match the rhythm of his thrusts, his gaze never leaving yours, his lips curling into a knowing smile as he watches your reaction.

“Please…” The word slips from your lips before you can stop it, desperate for more, for everything he’s willing to give. Your hips lift to meet his thrusts, your body arching into his touch as the pressure builds inside you, coiling tighter and tighter until you feel like you’re about to snap.

“Please, what?” Eris’s voice is teasing, but there’s an edge of intensity there, a deep desire to hear you say it, to have you begging for him. “Tell me what you want, baby. I’ll give you anything.”

“Please, I want to come,” you gasp, your voice barely a whisper as the pleasure threatens to overwhelm you. “I need it, Eris, please.”

His eyes darken with satisfaction, his lips brushing against yours in a soft, teasing kiss as he picks up the pace, his fingers moving faster against your clit. “Then come for me,” he whispers against your lips, his voice thick with desire. “Come for me, baby. I want to feel you.”

That’s all it takes. The combination of his words, his touch, and the deep, steady thrusts of his cock send you spiraling over the edge, your orgasm crashing over you like a tidal wave. Your body clenches around him, your back arching off the bed as you cry out his name, the pleasure so intense it’s almost too much to bear.

Eris doesn’t let up, driving you through the waves of your orgasm with steady, unrelenting thrusts, his fingers never leaving your clit until you’re trembling beneath him, completely spent. He watches you the entire time, his gaze heated and possessive, a soft groan escaping his lips as he feels you come undone around him.

As your orgasm begins to subside, he leans down, capturing your lips in a deep, possessive kiss, his hips still moving with a slow, deliberate rhythm. “You’re so beautiful,” he murmurs against your lips, his voice rough and breathless. “So fucking perfect.”

You’re barely able to respond, your body still trembling from the aftershocks of your orgasm, but you manage to whisper his name, your hands gripping his shoulders as he continues to move inside you, his thrusts becoming more erratic, more urgent.

Eris doesn’t hesitate, sensing the way your body melts beneath him, still trembling from the intensity of your orgasm. With a smooth, practiced motion, he flips the two of you over, his hands guiding you to straddle his waist. Your limbs feel like jelly, weak and trembling, but he shushes you softly, his hands firm on your hips.

“It’s okay, baby,” he murmurs, his voice a soothing balm as he brushes your hair away from your face. “Just lay on me. I’ve got you. Let me take care of you.”

He pulls you down gently, your chest pressed against his as your head rests on his shoulder. His hands slide up and down your back, grounding you, before they settle on your hips again, holding you steady. You barely have time to catch your breath before he starts moving, his hips thrusting upward with powerful, controlled strokes.

The sensation is overwhelming as he fills you completely, the force of his thrusts sending waves of pleasure radiating through your body. You can feel every inch of him, the heat of his skin against yours, the strength of his body beneath you, and the way his cock drives up into you with unrelenting intensity.

“Eris…” you moan, your voice muffled against his neck as your fingers dig into his shoulders, holding on for dear life as he takes control.

“Shh, just feel me,” he whispers, his breath hot against your ear. His hands tighten on your hips, guiding your movements as he continues to thrust up into you, each stroke hitting deeper, harder. “Let me make you feel good.”

Your body responds instinctively, your hips moving in time with his as he drives into you over and over again. The sound of skin slapping against skin fills the room, mingling with your gasps and his low groans, the intensity of it all threatening to unravel you once again.

He doesn’t stop, doesn’t let up, his pace relentless as he chases your pleasure. His hands roam your body, one sliding up to cradle the back of your head, pressing your face against his neck, while the other grips your waist, pulling you down onto him with every thrust.

“God, you feel so good,” he groans, his voice rough with need. “So tight, so perfect. You’re gonna make me come, baby. Just like that.”

The words send a fresh wave of heat through you, your body clenching around him as you feel yourself spiraling toward another climax. The intensity of his thrusts, the way he holds you so close, the deep, reverent way he whispers your name — it’s all too much.

“Eris, I’m…” you start, but the words dissolve into a moan as he slams up into you with a particularly hard thrust, your vision going white as another orgasm crashes over you, more intense than the last.

“Oh, you giving me another one, sweetheart?” he growls as he feels you tighten around him. “Let me feel you.”

Your body convulses in his arms as you shatter, the pleasure ripping through you with a force that leaves you breathless. Eris’s grip on you tightens, his own release just seconds behind yours as he thrusts up into you one last time, pulling out as he comes with a low, guttural groan, his cum spilling over your ass in hot, erratic bursts.

He holds you there, both of you trembling, your bodies entwined as you come down from the high together. His hands are gentle now, soothing as they trace patterns on your skin, his breath hot and ragged against your ear.

After the intensity of your release subsides, Eris’s touch becomes gentle and soothing. He cradles you in his arms, his fingers brushing tenderly over your back and sides as he presses soft kisses to your forehead.

“Are you okay?” he asks, his voice low and filled with concern. “You did so well, you know that?”

You nod, your body still shivering slightly from the aftershocks, but a soft smile plays on your lips. “I’m okay,” you whisper, your voice barely above a breath.

Eris gives you a reassuring smile, his hands moving soothingly up and down your back. “Good,” he murmurs, his tone tender. “I’m here. Just relax, let me take care of you.”

He carefully disentangles himself from you, his movements slow to avoid startling you. As he rises from the bed, he gently helps you shift so that you’re on your stomach, your hips slightly elevated. “Just a second,” he says softly.

Eris heads to a nearby cupboard, opening it to reveal a small, built-in towel warmer. He retrieves a warm, damp towel from inside, the comforting heat emanating from it as he brings it back to you.

He returns to the bed and carefully unfolds the towel, its warmth a welcome sensation. “I’m going to clean you up now, okay?” he asks gently but doesn’t wait for an answer as he begins to dab at your skin. The warmth of the towel is soothing, easing any lingering tension.

His hands are gentle as he tends to you. “You’re doing great,” he murmurs, his voice soft. “Just wanted to make sure you’re all clean and comfortable.”

Once he’s finished, he places the damp towel aside and returns to your side, pulling the comforter over you both. He settles next to you, pulling you close and pressing a tender kiss to the top of your head. You snuggle into his embrace, feeling the warmth and safety of his presence. His arms are steady and reassuring around you, and his murmurs of affection make you feel cherished and adored.

You finally find your voice, looking up at him with a tired but content smile. “That was incredible. I didn’t expect to feel so…” So good? So much? So intimate?

Eris grins, brushing a strand of hair from your face. “I’m glad you enjoyed it.”

You snuggle closer, your head resting against his chest. “I feel like I’m floating. In a good way.” You mentally kick yourself — of course, it was in a good way. Who says floating in a bad way?

Eris wraps his arms around you a little tighter. “You deserve to feel this good. Just know I’m always here for you, not just for things like this, for whatever. Whatever you need, (y/n).”

You sink deeper into Eris’s embrace, the warmth of his body seeping into your own. The comforting weight of his arms and the rhythmic rise and fall of his chest lull you into a state of serene contentment. The intensity of the earlier moments fades into a gentle afterglow.

As you relax, your thoughts begin to wander, drifting back to the complexities of your life outside this moment. Cassian's name surfaces in your mind, but it's quickly followed by the image of him with Elain. The idea of them together interrupts your peace. It should sting, but somehow, it doesn’t.

Instead, the memory of Cassian and Elain feels distant, almost abstract, overshadowed. You'll deal with it another time.

You shift slightly, feeling the steady thump of his heartbeat. The world outside, with its complications and unresolved emotions, feels like it’s receding. In this moment, the only thing that matters is the warmth between you, the sense of being cared for, and the gentle hum of satisfaction that lingers from your shared intimacy.

Eris’s soft breathing and the comforting pressure of his touch anchor you, and you let yourself drift in the quiet aftermath, content that you’ve found a moment of peace and connection that you can hold onto.

[genderqueerdykes]

please post more about alterhumanity I love to see it!!

sure! i'll see what i can come up with off the top of my head

i told my mom numerous times throughout my childhood that i wasn't human, but i didn't for real find out i'm nonhuman until i was somewhere around 19 or so. i finally joined the furry community, and was following someone on tumblr who was talking about their dragon kintype. i started googling "otherkin" and reading about it and realized oh wait. other people are like this too?

i figured out i was an elf first. that was fairly easy, i interacted with a lot of other elves since it was a very common kintype at the time. i did trade some really cool experiences, people really had some interesting ideas on what nonhumanity was about. my best friend and roommate at the time actually knew about me being otherkin, but he wasn't really the most supportive about it. he just kinda used it as a way to wedge himself into otherkin spaces and start debates and arguments with people. so over time i stopped talking about it with him

over the years though, i've not really stopped identifying as nonhuman. because i'm plural, i have a lot of nonhuman alters, and some that are from fictional sources. i would say every 6 - 12 months or so, one of us realizes some part of their nonhumanity, or a new alter who is nonhuman shows themselves and talks about their nonhumanity.

as much as i don't like how decentralized the otherkin community has come, it's been nice to figure things out on my own. back in the 2010s, people were very strict about what "counts" as otherkin. you would be guilted into trying to figure out if you have memories of that life, what "deeper meaning" your kintypes have to you, and so on. back then, people would harass new kin and make them jump through hoops to truly identify as their nonhuman selves. it messed me up for quite a while thinking i had to have a super deep connection that takes a lifetime to uncover in order to be a "real" otherkin

i actually have been staff for/ran a few nonhuman communities over the years! i found it to be a lot of fun because it's not as serious as queer issues, and there's a lot less arguing about real world politics and whatnot. while those topics are important, sometimes you need a space free of all of that. plus a really fun part of the nonhuman community is learning about animals and fictional creatures and people you've never heard of before. there's definitely no shortage of anime recommendations in fictionkin and fictive spaces that's for sure

i actually discovered the concept of plurality through nonhuman spaces, as many nonhumans are also plural. either spiritually, due to mental health conditions, naturally or something else, there's a lot of plurals in those communities. i met my first plural friend in the otherkin community and they taught me alot about the experience that i was going through in the moment as well. it tends to be a space that's very open to the concept of plurality and it's really nice

the nonhuman types that myself and my system collectively identify with the most are definitely my canine kintypes. i am very connected to both wolves and coyotes- i actually figured out i was a coyote first, almost a decade ago! it took me a lot more years to finally confirm i'm also a wolf. i've always felt very drawn toward coyotes for one reason or another- it's an animal i look at and think "hey that's what i look like".

i do wear dog collars because i identify as a dog as well! i'm part of the pup play community, though it is nonsexual for me, i just really enjoy being able to act out being a canine creature. i actually had a dog bed for a while that i slept on, but i haven't been able to get a new one. wearing a collar can be very comforting for me. not only do i find them adorable, but it's something that feels very personally correct to me.

horses are also really important to us as well. they are an animal we've looked at and gone "that's me" as well throughout our life. we have no desire to ride horses, but we would love to care for them and be around them. hooved animals in general have always been something we've felt a personal connection to as well. we've also been questioning whether or not we identify as a cow.

i'd love to get some accessories like ears, tails, paws, etc. in the future, and honestly, i've always wanted a fursuit/fursuits. like i adore them so much. i think they're such a creative artform and i've always wanted to learn how to make them. i think they're just. so fucking cool. hopefully i can get or make one some day!

overall accepting my nonhumanity has made my life a lot easier. i generally have phantom sensations of ears, tails and paws throughout my day to day life, and i don't really feel connected to humanity on a personal level. it's tiring to pretend like i see the world through a human lens because i just do not. it doesn't negatively impact my life whatsoever. i still do things i have to do, like pay my rent and bills, work, and so on. i can live a fulfilling life while acknowledging that my mind and soul are not that of a human

if i think of anything else, i'll add it in the reblogs! thanks for this ask i enjoy talking about my nonhumanity!

[really-fanny-longbottom]

the night we met

summary: azriel, cassian, and rhysand find something that will change their lives forever.

warnings: mentions of blood, injuries, abuse, death and violence.

pairings: batboys x reader (platonic)

Words: 5.8k

a/n: this is part of my second chance series but it can be read as a stand alone.

Cassian hated Windhaven. He hated it with all his strength.

No matter how many years, decades, and centuries had passed, he would never forget what he went through in that camp and how he was treated.

How he was still treated, it didn't matter that he had won the title of Carynthian or that he was the General and the Commander.

To them, he was always gonna be a bastard. 

Someone they wouldn't hesitate to disrespect or to spit on if it weren't for the seven red siphons adorning his body.

He hated almost everything about Windhaven. The males - how arrogant and violent they were and how they treated the females. 

Lord Devlon - how he managed the camp and how he treated him and Azriel. 

And the weather - despite growing up here, Cassian preferred the sun of Velaris over the rain and cold of Windhaven any day.

But the biggest reason for him to hate Windhaven as much as he did was how the females were treated.

It reminded him of his mother. His mother, who had to work until her death. His mother, who was taken advantage of. His mother, who was alone for all those years, he was trapped in this horrible camp.

His mother, the one person that he wanted to save the most but couldn't. He couldn't even remember her no matter how much he tried. And all of that, because some stupid male believed he was superior to her.

That's why he was here right now. 

Cassian and his brothers had arrived a few hours ago for another meeting with Devlon regarding the females’ training.

Nothing guaranteed him that he could make a change for those females, but hell, he was sure gonna try it. For her.

The meeting was supposed to end an hour ago, but Devlon's stubbornness kept prolonging it.

It finally ended half an hour later with Rhys' final decision that the females would be training three times a week during two hours before their chores.

Lord Devlon didn't like it, but there's nothing he could do against the High Lord's decision, so he had to 'suck it up', as Cassian made sure to tell him.

As the brothers made their way to the edge of the camp so they could finally leave, Cassian released a long breath letting go of the stress and anger that had built up in his body after seeing Devlon's arrogant face when they first arrived.

"That took longer than I expected," Rhys said, also releasing a long breath.

"It's Devlon. You know he never changes when it comes to the females." Azriel replied.

"Well, once a son of a bitch, always a son of a bitch." Cassian finished for them. 

Cassian's brothers laughed at his words, humming their agreements. 

"Az, I need you to come here for the next few weeks to verify if the training is happening." Rhys told him while they kept walking, "I know you don't like to come here, brother, but with the meetings between the Courts starting in a few days, I'm not gonna have the time." 

"I know, Rhys, I'll do it. Don't worry." Azriel replied indifference settling on his face, trying to hide how uncomfortable he is with these visits, but deep down Cassian and Rhys knew it.

"I'll join you." Cassian said, clapping a hand on his back.

Azriel's only response was a small nod and a weak smile.

When they reached the entrance of the camp, Rhys moved to stand in front of them and extended his hands. "Shall we?"

Cassian looked at the sky before looking towards his brother. "Why don't we fly today?" 

Rhys shot him an incredulous look, "You want to fly all the way over Velaris?" 

Cassian shrugged his shoulders, "Why not? I mean, when was the last time we enjoyed a good flight?"

"I agree with Cass," Azriel spoke this time. "Also, something tells me that we should fly today." 

Rhys lowered his hands, realizing that they were still extended, with furrowed eyebrows he asked "What do you mean? Your shadows?" 

"Yes, they're acting differently today" Azriel paused a second, "I don't know why but they got more restless about an hour ago." 

Confusion set on both Rhys and Cassian's faces, but Azriel just shrugged, not wanting to talk more about it and getting a little uncomfortable at his brothers' gazes.

Noticing this, Cassian changed the topic of the conversation when he saw Rhys was about to talk again "So should we get going?" He looked towards Rhys, a grin appearing on his face and amusement in his voice to match it "Don't tell me your age it's starting to get to you, brother." 

Azriel couldn't help the laughter that escaped his lips.

Rhys chuckled, forgetting what he was about to say to the Shadowsinger. "Cass, not to be mean, but you know you're older than me, right?" 

Cassian's grin didn't break. In fact, it grows even more. "Yeah, but unlike you, High Lord," Cassian bowed, exaggerating the movement before standing to his full height again. "I still train every day." 

Rhys rolled his eyes and scoffed, "Please, I'm still in form, Cass." 

Cassian crossed his arms over his chest, the amusement still present in his voice. "Sure, if you say so." He said while bumping shoulders with Azriel, who was still laughing.

"I am!" Rhys tells them, passing a hand through his black hair "Okay, enough, you two." He raises a hand gesturing to the sky with his wings appearing behind him. "Let's fly." 

Rhys turns around, ready to take off when his brothers’ chuckles reach his ears. Turning again in order to see them, Rhys catches Cassian, making a horrible imitation of him and Azriel not being able to contain his laugh.

Rhys releases a long sigh. "Are you done mocking me?" His eyes looked straight to his General.

Cassian holds his hands in surrender. "Yes, we can go now." A smile never leaving his face. 

As in sync, the three of them stretch their wings wide open before making their way into the sky with the sun already leaving so the moon can take its place for the night.

-

Cassian had been right. It had been a long time since he had the opportunity to fly just to enjoy it.

Their flight had begun two hours ago, and was going well. Cassian found himself enjoying the little things that only people blessed with wings had the pleasure to witness.

But his favorite thing was the view. That was never going to change. 

He had the perfect view of the sky that was now painted orange and pink with the last rays of sun disappearing in a few minutes.

He saw the sky changing to a purple before giving place to a dark blue that was now shining with the stars.

One more hour and they would be in Velaris. 

Cassian was eager to get home, after the day he had, all he wanted to do was to take a long bath, have dinner and go to bed. Maybe polish some of his swords, that always helped him relax after a hard day.

However, he was pulled from those tempting thoughts when his brother's shadows started acting agitated around their master's shoulders.

"Az," Rhys started, when the three brothers stopped flying and started levitating "what's wrong?" 

"I don't know. They just started doing this''. With Azriel's last words, a small group of his shadows departed from the Shadowsinger and made their way towards the south.

Following that direction could only lead them to two places: the Court of Nightmares or the border.

The males just stared at the shadows flying away, unsure of what to do and it was Cassian who broke the silence "Should we follow them?" 

Rhys focused his eyes on Azriel before asking him "You said your shadows were acting weird today. Could this be the reason?" He said, using his hand to point to where the shadows had been only a few minutes before.

"Maybe. I think..." Azriel wasn't able to finish his sentence after noticing that his shadows were coming back.

One of them made his way to his ear whispering to him the reason for their behavior.

The Shadowsinger eyes widened at the information that one of his little spies had just shared with him. He looked at his brothers before continuing "There's movement at the border." 

That was all it took for the males to resume their flights, now heading to the border instead of home, flying as fast as possible.

Rhys talons scraped their minds gently asking for permission to enter and when the other two males allowed by lowering their minds shields, an order filled their minds. Not from their brother but from their High Lord"Be ready for anything." 

-  

Blood. 

That was the first thing they were able to distinguish when they landed at the border between Night and Day. 

They could tell by the scent lingering in the air that it wasn't much but enough, so whoever or whatever it belonged to, was seriously injured.

Cassian reached for the two swords that occupied his back, he kept one to wield, passing the other to Rhys, seeing that Azriel was already wielding his favorite and precious dagger - Truth Teller.

Grabbing the hilt of his sword tighter, Cassian gave the first step, starting to follow the direction that the scent led him to. His brothers quickly followed him. 

Out of the corner of his eye, Cassian could see that the closer they got to their destination, the more restless and nervous Azriel's shadows became.

He didn't like the behavior the shadows were having, if it was a threat or a creature, they would've known by now, and the shadows wouldn't be acting like this. 

Cassian realized that in all the centuries he had known the Shadowsinger and his little companions, they had never behaved like this and that made him nervous. 

He made a silent prayer to the Mother. "Let it be an animal, please, just let it be an animal."  But deep down, Cassian knew it wasn't. The little bundles of darkness wouldn't be acting like this if it was.

Cassian released a long breath and prepared himself for the worst.

After walking for a few minutes in silence, the scent got stronger, and the General dared to look down. 

A tiny footprint covered in blood marked the ground. His line of sight followed the footprint, and he found more like that previous one. 

His breath got caught in his throat, and he froze for a moment, understanding to whom they belonged.

His brothers called his name, noticing the change in him, Cassian remembered that the males behind him had yet to see the footprints. The tiny little footprints. 

It was Rhys who broke the deadly silence. "Cass, what is it?" 

"It's a child." Cassian heard his brothers gasps, aware of the shock on their faces without having to look. 

"It's a child." He repeated, more to himself than to them, and without a second thought, Cassian ran.

- 

You had run away from your house after your stepfather had hit you again. 

It wasn't the first time or the second, but you had enough and for the first time in years, you decided to do something about it.

You were born in Winter, in a small village near the border with The Middle. 

You grew up with your stepfather, after your mother's passing when you were just a babe. 

Things weren't always bad even though he never liked you. The only reason your mom agreed to marry him was because she had a one night stand with your father that resulted into pregnancy, she didn't want you to be born outside of wedlock and be seen as a bastard. 

So she made a bargain with the male - if he kept the secret about you, she would marry him.

And so she did. She died two years later.

You also grew up with Marion, a old female who used to babysit you. She was kind, sweet and an excellent cook, being in her care was your favorite part of the day. But she was very old and by the time you were five, she had already left this life and begun the next one.

Leaving you with your stepfather.

You tried to hold on for as long as you could. You also tried to ask for help but the adults dismissed you, some saying you were just looking for attention, others saying you should be grateful to have someone taking care of you and not being in the orphanage. 

Although you would prefer the orphanage to that male if you had the choice. You didn't even consider him family, for Cauldron's sake.

That made you angry. So angry that you boiled everything for weeks, only to let it all out that day.

The day you stood up for yourself and fought back.

Unlike some other lesser faeries, you were blessed with ice in your veins. 

You were laying on the ground from the impact of the slap you had just received and when that awful male raised his hand to hit you again, you were quicker than him, grabbed him by the wrist and froze his entire arm.

Shock spread across your face. You knew you had powers, but you didn't know you could do that. 

The truth was that you didn't exactly know what you were capable of or how to use them. You never had anyone to teach you, so your control over them was non-existent.

The male's screams broke through you. Afraid of what he would do to you after that, you ran to your room, freezing the lock, and escaped from the window.

With nothing but a dress, a pair of shoes and a red cheek.

You ran and ran, and didn't dare to stop or to look back.

-

Cassian had been running for how long he didn't know, but it felt like forever. He knew Azriel and Rhys were right behind him from the shouts of his name that he was able to hear.

From the moment he saw those footprints, all of this felt like a nightmare, one that he couldn't wake up from. 

It was a nightmare that he wanted to end as fast as possible because Cassian wasn't sure if he wanted to find out what those marks were leading him to.

Once again, Cassian sent another silent prayer to the Mother, wishing with all his strength that she was hearing him "Be okay. Please be okay."

When he finally reached his destination, his heart stopped and his face went pale.

Cassian considers himself to be a strong male. Not just physically but also mentally.

He lived through wars, participated in countless battles, killed a lot of enemies, lost soldiers, friends, and a lover. He knew pain, violence, and torture. 

But nothing prepared him for the sight of a little girl laying on her side, with her back facing him, unconscious on the cold earth with blood in her exposed arms and legs, another amount of blood stained her dress and the ends of her white hair. Her feet were fully covered with blood, the size of them matching the footprints he found earlier.

His brothers reached him and stopped by his side. The males put away their weapons, without taking their eyes off the little girl.

From his right, Azriel spoke, "By the Mother. Is she dead?" His voice broke on that last word.

"I...I...I don't...I don't know." Cassian tried to speak, his voice weak, not being able to process what was in front of him.

Understanding his brother, Rhys rested a hand on his left shoulder and gave him a nod before stepping forward.

The High Lord made his way to the little girl - to you. His hands were shaking and his heart was beating faster than it should. 

But, then you moved. A tiny movement almost imperceptible if it weren't for their fae sight.

That made Rhys halt in his steps and the three males took their turns in releasing relieved breaths, a weight being lift from their shoulders.

You were alive. Now the only thing left to know was how injured you were.

Rhys looked behind him to his brothers, giving them a small nod before continuing his walk.

When you were only two steps away from him, Rhys stopped and bent down. From this closure he could only see half of your injuries.

You had cuts on your arms and legs, probably from branches, your feet covered in blood from walking or running on the solid ground, your dress slightly torn, and your skin extremely pale. 

He tried to listen for a heartbeat or a breathing. But all he could hear was the unsteady heartbeats from his own heart and his brothers.

"Is she okay? Please tell me she's okay." Cassian said, his voice betraying him, while taking a few steps forward, Azriel following him.

Rhys looked behind his shoulder, at the males, "I don't know. I can't see the full extent of her wounds." 

"Try to turn her around. Gently." Azriel said to him, his shadows still restless as they swim around their master's shoulders.

Rhys faced you again, he extended one of his hands to grab your shoulder and do what his Shadowsinger had suggested.

But the moment his fingers brushed your tiny shoulder, you opened your eyes and attacked. 

-

You had lost track of time. You could have been walking for hours or days, you didn't know. 

You didn't know where you were going. You just followed the stones that you found on the ground, at the exit of Winter Court.

They formed a kind of line, like a path, as if someone had placed them there for you, as if showing you the right path. They took you north, to the Solar Courts.

Every time you thought the stones were almost running out, many more appeared, always indicating the way. You thought it was a sign from the Mother.

You didn't think you'd make this far, but apparently you were stronger than you thought. 

Or maybe it was your stubbornness. The people from your village always complained about how stubborn you were, but finding yourself in this situation, you started to think they were right.

Now, you only had a dress to protect you.

You got rid of your shoes a couple miles back when you realized their noise had attracted unwanted attention.

You had the feeling you were being followed and watched, but every time you looked around, you found nothing. Still, you got rid of the shoes for precaution even though the feeling never went away.

Your feet hurt with every step you gave, but you walked through the pain and didn't stop.

Your stomach growled. The last thing you ate was an apple when you climbed a tree for the night, and that was two nights ago, or was it more?

Your throat was dry, the last time you had to drink water was when you passed a river and you couldn't remember when that was or if it even happened.

You didn't know. The only thing you knew was that you were too weak. Your were dragging your feet, your eyes were unfocused, and from time to time, you would lose your balance.

You wanted to stop. You just wanted to lay on the ground and close your eyes, but your instincts and your stubbornness didn't let you. 

But it wasn't just that. The feeling that you were still being watched remained, you weren't sure if you were or if you were just imagining it but you were not about to find out.

So you kept going. You refused to give up. You would rather die here than go back to that house. 

When the sun left and the moon came to replace it, bringing a dark sky with it, you thought of stopping for a few hours and starting again once the sun returned.

But your body beat you to it. Before you knew, you were collapsing on the ground, hunger, thirst, and exhaustion taking over you.

The last thing you remember seeing before closing your eyes, was a skeleton creature with a black cloak watching you from the trees, and you could swear you heard him saying, "Don't worry, child. They're almost here. Rest now, you're going to be fine," right before he dropped a handful of stones - the same ones that led you here.

But you weren't sure if that was real too.

- 

Rhys didn't even realize what was happening until it was too late.

You turned around so fast that he barely saw it. One second you were laying on the floor and the next one, you were biting his hand, right between his index finger and his thumb. 

The High Lord of the Night Court cursed out loud, shock and surprise spreading through his features. He had never been so caught off guard like that before, and especially not by a little girl.

He ripped his hand from your mouth and stood, shaking his hand slightly to the sting that you just caused him.

When he looked down and went to reach for you again, you were already gone. He turned around and saw you ran towards the General.

Cassian bent his knees and extended his arms to try to grab you but you were faster than him.

Before he could close his arms in order to try to wrap you in them, you dodge to the side and when you saw him slightly standing up, you took your opportunity and kicked him in his private parts. 

Cassian didn't have time to react, you were already passing beneath his legs to escape him. 

Your only obstacle now was the Shadowsinger.  Azriel was so busy watching you, this little girl, facing his brothers that he didn't realize it was his turn.

He didn't know what to do, so he followed Cassian's move and try to grab you too, but before he could even try, you launched yourself to his leg wrapping your arms and legs around it and then reached for the shiny dagger that was settled on the top of his hip, pulling it off and grabbing it.

The moment the dagger was in your hand, you let go of his leg and proceeded to walk backwards while raising your arm and pointing it at the three males that now stood in front of you.

Azriel was taken by surprise, how did you do that? He didn't even notice you had taken his dagger from him. Cassian was still bent over from the kick you gave him and Rhys was clutching his hand. 

The males were dumbfounded.

Cassian was the first to talk "What the fuck just happened?" He whispered with an incredulous look on his face.

The males changed looks between them before Rhys took a step forward that led you to take a step back.

He put his hands up in surrender and told you with a soft and calm voice. "It's okay. We're not going to hurt you." 

He tried to take another step forward only for you to repeat your previous movement.

Rhys stopped, and with a hand pressed against his chest, he said, "My name is Rhysand. These are my brothers, Cassian." He gestured to the General, "and Azriel," he gestured to the Shadowsinger. 

"We're not going to hurt you. We just want to help." Cassian said this time.

Your arm never flattered, dagger still pointed at them, your body still running with adrenaline.

Understanding that you wouldn't budge, the High Lord did the only thing he could do - he entered your mind.

He saw everything. Where you were born, your home situation, your stepfather and how you got here. 

Rhys showed your memories to his brothers, the three males now angry for the reason that had forced you to run away.

Before you could find another way to humiliate them, you felt a darkness fill you and put you to sleep.

Falling to the ground one more time, you released your grip from the dagger, letting it fall at your side and entered into a deep slumber.

- 

Azriel was the first to move. He walked towards you and bent down to pick up his dagger and put it back where it belonged. The Shadowsinger glanced at his shadows and saw they were calm, they looked relieved now that you were safe.

Still bent down, he removed the hair from your face before looking at his High Lord "You put her to sleep?" 

Rhys gave him a firm nod "It seemed the only solution. Unless, of course, you wanted her to make us look stupids again," he finished while smiling.

The males chuckled at that, still not believing that you managed to outgrown the three of them.

"I can't believe she actually kicked you in the nuts, Cass," Azriel said, a big laughter erupting from him and Rhys.

Cassian growled "Shut up, Az. At least she didn't disarm me." He told his brother before speaking in a low voice "Idiot." 

Azirel became more serious "Unbelievable isn't it? I only noticed she had Truth Teller when I saw it in her hands, how did she even do that? I mean, look at her," the Shadowsinger said with his hands gesturing to you.

They did. You were a child, and they were three full-grown illyrians males. Warriors. 

Cassian started to laugh again, and at his brothers’ gazes, he explained, "She's a fighter. She could've just ran but she didn't. She decided to face us instead. No other child would've done that." 

"Hum, that is true. I guess that makes her different from the others." Rhys concluded it.

Cassian removed his coat before making his way to you "We're taking her with us." 

Rhys said surprised, "Of course we are." As if leaving you there was even an option.

Azriel lifted you gently so the General could wrap you in his coat before lifting you in his arms.

Now settled on Cassian's arms, you moved closer to his chest, resting your head there and seeking the comfort of his warmth.

Rhys approached Cassian, took off his coat and laid it over you, making sure you were well protected from the cold of the night.

Azriel followed his brothers’ movements and did the same with his, "Since we are all giving her our coats, plus it's much colder up there than down here." He said, remembering that they still had to fly to Velaris.

The males stayed silent for a moment, looking at you to make sure you were fine before they resumed their flights.

"We should go," Rhys said while passing his hand through your head "Mor and Amren must already be worried and wondering why are we taking so long and she needs to be seen by Madja." 

Cassian looked up at the stars, knowing exactly what time it was by them "You're right. We're two hours late."

"Let's go home then." Azriel said for them.

-

Their flight to Velaris was faster than they thought. You passed the entirety of it sleeping peacefully in the General's arms, who would look at you every few minutes to make sure you were alright.

Before they knew, they were landing on the balcony of the House of Wind. 

Through the glass doors, they could see Rhysand's second and third in command. There was no doubt, the females were agitated with their delay.

The High Lord reached for the door handle before twisting it and opening the double doors.

He was the first to enter with Azriel right behind him leaving Cassian to last.

"Finally." The ancient one was the first to speak, a glass of wine or blood, on her hands.

"Where the hell were you? We were starting to think those bastards illyrians had done something to you." Morrigan yelled.

"Relax Mor, as you can see we're in one piece." Rhys said, trying to make his cousin lower her voice.

"Yeah," Azriel scoffed, "except our pride." He added.

The third in command gave him an angry look "What is that supposed to mean?" She yelled again. 

"Seriously, lower your voice, Mor" Rhys tried again.

"Why?" She said, not lowering her voice at all.

"Because you're going to wake her" it was Cassian's turn to speak, stepping forward with you still asleep in his arms. 

The females went quiet at your sight. The only thing audible was the wind from outside the House. Ironic, considering the House they were in.

Amren broke the silence "Please tell me you didn't kidnap the child." 

The High Lord gave her a confused look "What? No. We found her at the border, she was alone." His talons scraped their minds, and a second later the memories of what had taken place only a few hours ago filled the females minds.

While Amren chuckled at the memories of you standing against the males, Morrigan had tears in her eyes because of the ones of your stepfather.

The blonde knew very well what it was like to be a part of a family that wasn't good to you. But even in that, she was much older than you were. 

Cassian tears her from her thoughts “I'm going to lay her on one of the beds, why don't you go get Madja?" He asked her.

"Okay." Mor said, her voice barely a whisper.

-

An hour later, you were still in a deep slumber while Madja examined you with the Inner Circle present in the room in silence.

They saw as Madja healed your cuts that were now disappearing, and then moved to your feet that also started to heel. 

With anxiety taking over his body, Cassian can't help but ask "How is she? She's going to be fine, right?" 

The old female faced the General "Yes. All her wounds are already healed. Now, she may stay asleep for a few more days but that's normal. After everything she went through, her body is exhausted and needs resting." She answered him, but Azriel, ever the Spymaster, was able to see the look on the healer's face that said that this wasn't all. 

"But?" He made the first move.

The healer gave a long sigh and continued "She's too skinny. She needs to gain weight. A lot of it" 

"She will. We'll be taking care of her now." Cassian replied. The Inner Circle agreed with him, Rhys put his hand on his shoulder and gave him a light squeeze.

"Very well. Come get me when she wakes up." The healer said after packing her things and making her exit. 

Everyone left the room but the General. He approached the bed and took a seat on your right side.

He pushed your hair out of your face gently and kept passing his hand in your head in a tender gesture while he saw you sleeping peacefully for a few minutes, gathering the courage for his next words.

And when he finally did, he said, his eyes soft and his voice calm "Don't worry, little star, you're safe now. No one is going to hurt you ever again. I promise."

- 

You woke up four days later. When you got out of the bed it was already dark outside.

You noticed you were washed and dressed in a clean set of pajamas, and that you were no longer injured or tired.

Now, you were just hungry, and when the scent of chocolate reached the room you were in, you gathered your courage and made your way downstairs while following the sweet scent.

It lead you to a living room - a fancy and very rich living room.

Several paintings decorated the walls, leather sofas with silk cushions took place at the foot of the fireplace with a coffee table on which a vase of flowers and several books sat. A huge dining table with matching chairs occupied the other side of the room, and in front of you in a long corridor were two closed glass doors that led to a balcony.

Your gaze settled on the chocolate cake that was on top of the table, with a lick of your lips you moved towards it.

You loved chocolate and you were so hungry that you ate half of it. You lifted the fork for another bite before stopping in the middle of it, when your eyes moved to the window. 

Intrigued by the view, you dropped your fork next to the cake and walked to the glass doors.

You opened them and made your way to the balcony.

You weren't tall enough to see beyond it, you tried to stand on your tiptoes but it still didn't do any good. Looking around you, you found a large pot with a plant in the corner and as you moved to use it as a bench, a voice stopped you.

"Already exploring?" 

You turned around and found the General. He was no longer in his leathers, opting for more comfortable clothes and his hair tied in a bun.

He tried again "I'm Cassian but my family calls me Cass. Can you tell me your name?" He said with a smile.

You didn't answer him but you didn't stop looking at him either, almost like challenging him. 

"I presume you're feeling better since you almost ate the entire chocolate cake," He chuckled, and when you gave him a nod of affirmation, his heart skipped a beat.

Progress. It wasn't a word but he was willing to accept anything you had to offer.

His eyes moved to the vase and then to you, understanding what you were trying to do.

"Here," He said while extending his arms, offering to pick you up so you could do what you came here for, "It's safer this way."

He watched you hesitate for a moment, "I'm not going to hurt you. I promise."

And then you moved. You put your hands on his arms and let him pick you up.

He moved forward to the edge of the balcony with you secured in his arms again, giving you the perfect view of Velaris and the sky above shining with the stars.

After a few moments of silence, his heart skipped a beat again at your words "Y/N."

He turned his head so fast to meet your eyes but you were already looking at him and with a small smile you added "My name is Y/N." 

Cassian couldn't help but return the smile, his gaze softened and when you turned your head again to gaze at the beauty of Velaris, the General found himself saying "Welcome to the Night Court, Y/N."

a/n: thank you for reading!

masterlist

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*if you asked to be tagged and you weren't, it's because I couldn't find your blog.

the beautiful dividers belong to @cafekitsune

[quill-of-thoth]

The Saga of Great Uncle Asshole And The Priest From Hell

It's thanksgiving (in the US) so have a family gathering disaster that is old enough to be funny. Almost a decade ago, after a life of stirring up drama everywhere she went, my grandmother died. She was an unhappy woman who tried to be better to her grandkids than she was to her kids, and didn't always succeed, and she's the reason that when I smell cinnamon tic tacs they're accompanied by the reek of an illusory cigarette. This is not a sad post. This is a post about the fact that her funeral was a fucking disaster and it was ultimately about 50% her fault. See, my whole family was at one point or another catholic. Grandma really enjoyed going to church in her last years because it got her out of the nursing home, and priests have to listen when you tell them about the husband you divorced and the children who think they know better than you. Grandma did not consider the fact that the local priest she'd latched onto like a talkative moray eel in a cloud of nicotine smoke was an unmitigated bigot. She left instructions that she wanted her funeral to be at that specific catholic church and for that priest to do the sermon. It didn't occur to her that the person who would be organizing her funeral would be her gay daughter and her daughter's wife.

Shit started getting real about when the doors opened to recieve mourners. Over the course of ten minutes, my aunt summoned:

her elder sister, a paralegal

my father, who has never seen a conflict he would not cheerfully walk away from

Their younger brother, in order to swear at the priest

My mother, who hadn't had a good opportunity to fight a priest since we left our own church and was game to do it again.

This left me, the eldest grandchild, in charge of the receiving line, despite the fact that I knew approximately no one there. My brother and cousins were woodenly shaking hands and then whispering "who's that?" "I don't know." My aunt's husband was escorting the elderly and infirm up the stairs one at a time. My uncle's wife was also around but she knew even fewer people and was mostly listening at the door of the ongoing argument.

So when my brother and Boy cousin went to see if we could pry someone who knew who was related to us out of the argument and I was busy trying to convince an octegenarian that she did NOT need to figure out which of her cousins had married one of grandma's siblings before sitting down, Girl Cousin was alone at the door.

Great Uncle Asshole arrived in a storm of curses and a faux-coonskin cap. He blew past Girl Cousin, thumped his cane up the steps, and seized my hand. It was like shaking hands with an extremely strong mummy. "You look just like your mother! It's the hair, what a bird's nest. Where's your daddy? And the rest of Helen's brood."

I muttered something about them finalizing details with the priest.

"Well, they'll come see me soon enough. Bet you don't know who I am!" I didn't know who anyone was. Everyone older than me was having a verbal cage match with a member of the clergy or escorting some other old fogey to their seats, everyone younger than me had even fewer clues, and my only hope was to wrap this conversation as fast as possible. "Nope!" I said, "I haven't seen most of the people here in years." If I had ever seen them in the first place. He was going to be mad, but I figured if I had to be the bouncer I could probably take an eighty-something year old guy who breathed like the surgeon general's personal warning to smokers. I could at least shut the door on him.

"Of course you wouldn't! Your gran wouldn't have told you. I'm your great uncle Roger, and I'm here to bury the hatchet, by which I mean your grandma! She and I swore over our father's casket we'd never be under the same roof again while we both lived, and by god I kept my oath!" People were starting to stare, and it was at this moment that a thirty-something man in a suit sprinted up the stairs, and my uncle's wife, with a look of dawning horror, called her husband. "Roger's here." The middle aged folks descended immediately. Here is a snapshot of the ensuing conversation: "Roger, why don't we find you a seat?" - my mother in her best teacher voice "Glad to see you're doing well enough to make it" - My father, in his best 'good god I want to be anywhere else' voice. "Take me to the coffin! I want to see her with my own two eyes!" - Great Uncle Asshole, "And hang up my **** hat! Killed it myself!" "I'm so sorry, I didn't know he could walk that fast" - strange suit man "If you are QUITE finished, I am starting the ceremony in ten minutes" - the priest

As my father and his brother towed a grinning and cursing old man to the furthest reaches of the family section, my mother and my oldest aunt caught all the cousins up on the argument with the priest. My youngest aunt was still crying while her wife stared fixedly at the stained glass panes and periodically handed over tissues. The upshot of it all was that my aunt and her wife would be allowed to attend the funeral (on pain of the whole family literally walking out on the priest) but would not be allowed to take communion, because the priest didn't believe in their marriage. My aunt's wife had neglected to point out that, being Jewish, she wasn't going to take communion anyway. "That's fucked" said boy cousin, and the four of us immediately resolved in whispers to refuse communion as well. The priest opened his sermon with pointed remarks about the older generation's devotion and respect for the church. He continued on through psalms and all that until he got to the blessing of the eucharist and asked the family up to receive communion. My father, who hadn't taken communion since I could remember, stayed seated. My mother stayed seated. My aunts and uncles stayed seated. The cousins stayed seated. About a third of the church didn't move. "Well father, I'll have mine! These young folks think hey have all the time in the world to get right with the lord, but you and I know better!" The priest, who had been visibly hoping god would smite us, turned a wincing glare on my great uncle and the series of distant relatives and nursing home neighbors who were now shuffling up. The service dragged on. We were lined up to say goodbye to everyone, while the suit man (who would turn out to be my second cousin) bodily hauled great uncle asshole and his coonskin cap down the stairs. "I should have known my sister wouldn't manage to raise any good Catholics! Horrible woman." he said loudly as he was stuffed into a car driven by suit man's apparent twin. The priest approached as we were finally ready to leave, to ask why we were so stubborn that we deprived ourselves of communion. After all, unlike my youngest aunt, we weren't obvious sinners! "Oh, I'm Lutheran" - My eldest aunt. "I'm an atheist" - My uncle "I don't think you're qualified to bless anything." - My mother, who learned her religion primarily from a horde of socialist-leaning nuns.

With that, we left the wreck of my grandmother's funeral behind. "Helen," said my mother, very deliberately, when we were safely in the car, "would have HATED that." My dad started laughing. "Are you kidding? She would have loved that! It would have been all she complained about for years!"

[jomiddlemarch]

Everything but prudent

“This whole place belongs in a skip,” Marianne said darkly, pausing the scrub-brush she held clutched in her hand, the flagstones around her very slightly cleaner than when she had started, though it was hard to tell as there was a vast quantity of grey scummy water turning the stones dark, soaking Marianne’s jeans and trainers. The scarlet scarf she’d used to tie her bright chestnut hair back was still pristine as was her lip-gloss and Elinor made a great effort not to roll her eyes at the melodramatic scene Marianne had arranged for herself. All it needed was goldfinch to come through the open window and perch on Marianne’s shoulder, trilling a merry little melody. Marianne had refused the mop Elinor had suggested and Elinor was resigned to having to give the floor another going-over when Marianne decided it was clean enough.

“We’re lucky to have a place to stay,” Elinor reminded her. 

Lucky was an understatement. Elinor had started researching how much she could make selling her eggs, well before they’d come to Barton Cottage Inn where she could keep Lincolnshire Buffs to do the laying, and then, in what still felt like a miracle, their mum’s third cousin twice removed or whatever he was Jock Middleton, a successful hotelier who seemed equally fond of unprepossessing commercial properties and widowed distant relatives with dramatic daughters, had asked their mother whether she and her girls would be willing to make a go of the inn he’d bought at an auction nearly a decade ago and had forgotten about. Once they’d confirmed the inn had an intact roof to keep out the weather and at least one indoor lav, Elinor and her mother had leapt at the chance Jock offered, while Marianne took to melancholic swanning about their flat and making interminable cups of tea she never finished.

“You mean a place to work our fingers to the bone. To moulder away,” Marianne muttered. Elinor reminded herself Marianne was young and it was a wrench to have to give up on her plans to travel, the music course intensive she’d won a scholarship for which unfortunately only covered tuition, not living expenses in Vienna.

Elinor ignored the fact that she herself was only two years Marianne’s senior, had been forced to leave her highly-sought-after but poorly paid internship, and had been effectively abandoned by Teddy, who had stopped answering her calls without any explanation. She ignored it a little, anyway.

“I told you to wear rubber gloves,” Elinor said. “And the mouldering will get better once we have someone in to look at the electric—”

“Who’d come here, Ellie?” Marianne interrupted.

“Cousin Jock is footing the bill for the big repairs, I expect we’ll be able to get a service in shortly, and honestly, Marianne, you ought to hope lots of people want to come here and stay at the inn, otherwise even Jock’s generosity may run out and we’ll be out on our arses,” Elinor said.

“Elinor said arses, Elinor said arses,” Megan, their youngest sister, the one her mother had announced, after too much pinot grigio, had been an accident, but such a happy one, though your father did hope for a boy. Megan was a whirlwind, a cannonball, far too bright for her grammar school, impossible to homeschool, and exceptionally fine at distracting Elinor and Marianne from any real dispute.

“You’re tracking in God knows what, Megan—” Marianne exclaimed. Now she cared about the floor.

“Language, dear,” their mother said, having come in through the second set of stairs, the servants’ stairs, Elinor supposed, ones she and her sisters ought to get used to using. It was hard to consider wearing uniforms, but maybe Marianne would enjoy finding some signature print fabric they could make into scarves and throw pillows, something cottage-y, English country garden. Something that would not show the stains Megan was sure to immediately get on any article of clothing.

“But she said arses,” Megan replied.

“Elinor is an adult and if she felt she needed to use a vulgar word, I imagine she had her reasons. Elinor, I did call that company but it went straight to the machine, so I called Jock—”

“Mum, you should have waited, he won’t want to be bothered,” Elinor said. Some days, most days, it seemed she was the only Dashwood who didn’t think Barton Cottage Inn was a kind of free pass. Megan was the only one who had a right to feel that way.

“He wasn’t bothered a bit, you worry too much, darling,” her mother replied.

“Someone has to,” Elinor said under her breath.

“He said he had a friend to send round, a sort of jack-of-all-trades, a bit at loose ends, he said, it would be good for him to have a project to work on, and heaven knows the inn qualifies,” her mother went on blithely. 

“Jock-of-all-trades has a friend Jack-of-all-trades,” Megan said, grinning.

“Actually, his name is Brandon,” her mother said.

“Jock has a friend named Brandon?” Marianne said. “That’s rather trendy, isn’t it?”

“His last name is Brandon. His first name is Richard.”

“That’s not trendy at all,” Megan said. “I’m going to call him Brandon.”

“You’re going to call him Mr. Brandon or sir,” her mother said firmly.

If he could deal with the old wiring and the wonky cistern, the crumbling masonry and the flaking plaster, if he could reach a détente with the boiler, which appeared to be possessed and not by a happy spirit, Elinor would call the man whatever he pleased, prince or saint or colonel.

As it turned out, he was a dab hand with a fuse and a gasket and he said he preferred Brandon.

If it were not for Elinor’s stupidly loyal heart, the memory of Teddy’s voice reciting Keats in the twilight, she’d have fallen in love at first sight.

She’d discover soon enough that Brandon did that as well. 

It took Marianne substantially longer.

Posted for Janeuary 2025 @janeuary-month Day 5, prompt: inn

[thecameronchronicles]

Toxic

TW: Toxic!Rafe. Dom!Rafe. Bondage. Smut. Language. Degrading Language. Mentions of cheating. 

SUMMARY: a toxic exchange between you and Rafe…

WORD COUNT: 2200

REQUESTED

Toxic!rafe trying to convince reader to not leave him after he slept with one of her friends 

*CHANGED IT A BIT, HOPE YOU ENJOY!*

Toxic

You knew better than to make a scene in public. And yet, it didn't spare him from the way your eyes narrowed as he spoke to each and every one of your friends. Especially her. The girl who you'd known for half a decade, who had taken it upon herself to play the guise of a friend all to steal your role as a lover to your boyfriend. And yet, you couldn't blame her as much as you did him. For acting on the curiosities fueling his wandering eye after you believed you kept him content. But how could anyone keep someone like Rafe Cameron content?

"Are you going to keep pouting?" He asked while retracting his hand from the effortless rest it made on your thigh. A usual source of comfort now scorching you as you couldn't help but wonder if he had done the same to her. Was this touch how it began? Was it the night of your birthday when he left early for what he told you to be an illicit transaction from Barry?

It didn't matter to him as the car continued through the gates of Tannyhill as you couldn't comprehend why you agreed to go with him. Especially since you couldn't stomach his touch or look him in the eye. All because you knew if you looked in the icy stare that he would convince you to forgive him. Even just the brush of his fingers would bring him absolution. Just to feel him a bit higher. A bit deeper. A bit-

No. 

Not this time. Not after the countless ways he had subjected you into a situation where you were forced to bend your morals for someone so undeserving. Your grace pushed and pulled into withered strands leaving only patience in frailty. And each and every time, he pulled a bit further. 

And you let him. 

"If you're going to act like this, I might as well just take you home...I could be with Top and-"

"Alyssa?" The sound of her name made him smirk. This made your eyes sharpen as you couldn't help but think about the reason behind it. Was it that she felt better? Made him last longer? Until you ultimately decided it was because she was more experienced. Not a guy in the Outer Banks that didn't know the taste of her coconut flavored chapstick. 

And yet, no matter the reason, you were left undeniably insecure. Questioning the lay of your hair and choice of attire. Even the way you treated your anger with silence. You just knew she would have done better. As apparently she had. Such evidence in the continued smirk. 

"You still aren't over it?"

"It was a week ago.." You spat, eyes sharpening further with a hand on your hip and he slowly nodded. 

"And for a week I've had to deal with you acting like a bitch...moping and shit, but I'm the victim here..." 

He had defended himself in idiotic ways before. Yet this gaslighting self-victimization was a new low. Your heart twisted to respond as you took a step to act on it. And yet, the pain behind his eyes in what you were certain was self sabotage kept you staring at him. 

"If you're that mad then go..." He ordered rather dismissively before optioning for the bag set in his back pocket. That trusty hit he required whenever reality became too much. 

Which was often. 

"Not like I need you here...Got everything I need..." He spoke to himself, the words scaring you as you turned to leave. But the second your hand wrapped around the handle, you turned to face him. 

"Why her? Why did it have to be my friend?"

"Why are you coming at me? SHE was the one who started it. You said it, she was YOUR friend..." He rose from the bedside table, leaving behind the preparations he'd made to take a hit before facing you. 

"Because you are MY boyfriend!" 

"And that could change..." His words brought tears to your eyes. After everything you'd endured and you remained. Near overdoses. Cruel words. Dominant and submissive sex that left bruises and marks that brought deprecating words from those you called friends. Fights with those same apparent safe havens and confidants that left you isolated. Everything for this...

"Asshole..." You spoke softly, as if testing the word aloud. The next time it was uttered, it was stronger. Your fists pounding at his open chest as he was taken aback by the first hit. 

"You're such a fucking asshole! If you don't want to be with me then just tell me, I don't deserve this you son of a bitch!" But as you believed your impromptu boxing match would result in some moral consciousness shaken, he would only take hold of your hands and push you against the bed. If not for his grip, you would have fallen flat, and yet, he had you bent just enough to threaten it. 

"Yeah, that's right baby. And you threaten me and tell me it all you want, but you'll always come back..." You tried to pull free, thin eyes expressing your anger against him. 

"No...Not this time..." He scoffed, amused at your attempt to rival him. A lift of his brow and light alteration from his content scowl and you were taken into a single shake before he returned you to that slight bend. 

"No? You aren't dripping for me then?" Your eyes softened to the surprise of his words. You expected the usual cruelty. The coldness you'd come to know in moments like this. Not lust. Not arousal. And certainly not from yourself. You were too angry. Too hurt. Too...wet. 

The grip between you allowed him to pull his thumbs over your nipples, feeling them harden beneath the bralet beneath your thin shirt. His favorite combination if you insisted on remaining dressed. 

"I didn't even come...That's something I leave for you..." You couldn't validate if this had been the truth as your eyes rolled closed to the full grasp made over your breast. He was greedy with this hold, rising the weight until doing the same with the other side, your hands collecting your descent into the bed. 

"Thought you wanted to leave..."

"I do..." 

"Yeah?" He teased his question over your lips. 

"I think you wanna come..." He pushed you flat. 

"Because you and I both know I'm the only one that can make you..." You hated how this was the truth. Nice guys were only that from your experience. Careful and behaved. You basked in the way he pumped unhinged between your thighs. The way he pulled your hair to quell your daddy issues. And the way he left you sore enough to feel him hours, even days later. But you questioned if the cons were worth the high. 

"I hate.."

"You hate me? You aren’t alone there, sweetheart…" He existed amused once again. His ringed finger tracing your breast before he tore your chosen bottoms from your hips until only your panties remained. The wet-soaked, panties that he forced this way once again. Every pair ruined by him whenever in his presence. And these would be no exception, apparently. 

"I love how easy it is to make you wet..." 

"No-"

"You lying to me? You know how much I hate when you try to..." You parted your lips to retort. The double standard was enough to leave you dizzy. You couldn't even offer a smile to someone across the room without him marching in their direction with a prepared fist. And yet you were subjected to hear the details of him and your friend as she was shameless about it, discussing it as if you were sharing the same toy. 

"Your body knows me. It's why you always come back. No matter how mad you are-"

"I'm mad at you..." You managed while his lips pulled upwards. 

"Yeah I can tell...moaning like this...real mad..." He patronized as your body betrayed your attempts. But as you wanted to move away from him to clear your mind, you would only drive further into him. Up until his hand cupped your sex. His large, warm hand, all encompassing of you. 

"You want me even when you hate me. Even when I hurt you..."

"No I-" He slipped his hand over your face, smearing your arousal over your face before taking hold of your jaw. 

"Keep lying, see where it gets you..."

"Stop..."

"Stop?" He pulled your lips apart as you instinctively sucked his finger, needing to use something as an outlet.

"But you're desperate. And what kind of boyfriend would I be if I left you practically pouring and panting for me?"

"I-" 

"Unless your next words are "fuck me", you keep those pretty little lips shut...Or I'll fuck you quiet..." Your eyes widened to his threat. You were graceful on your knees for him. A favorite act for you both. And yet, you knew the threat meant it would be less than desirable. You would not be an equal or a partner. You would be an outlet. Tasrs, pleas, claw marks on his thighs and ass would do nothing but motivate him until you'd served your purpose. It was not an experience you wanted when you waged the rival side of pleasure he could offer. 

But only after he got what he wanted one way or another. 

"Tell me you're sorry." He took a hold of your hair as your eyes darted from his lips to his hand as it dismantled his shorts. 

"Better yet, show me..." He pulled you to the edge of the bed. "Show me why I came back..." You were ambitious to his shaft, beginning in a complete swallow of his cock as he pulled you back. 

"Don't be a whore about it. You're my girlfriend...take your fucking time..." He corrected as you slowed, taking him deep behind hollowed cheeks. 

The immediate presence of a distant saltiness swelled your ambition as a compliment before you slowly nodded. 

"Look at me." He groaned, unnecessarily pulling your hair further to a glance you'd already offered him. 

"You look so fucking hot...I could come all night down your pretty little throat...Even better than her…" You nodded, aware it was impossible, but your agreeability would be favored. 

"Come here-" He groaned more to himself as you were taken to the edge of the bed, turned away from him as he ripped the bra from your torso and used the fabric on your hands. 

"It will always be you. You're mine. I'll always come back to you. You know why?" He asked, guiding you into the mattress until your ass alfines with his dripping cock. 

"Because you let me fuck you like the whore you want to be for me..."

"Rafe-" He smacked your ass. 

"Because you deserve this. For questioning me." Another blunt rest made you shudder. 

"So apologize..." When you didn't, he pulled you up by your hair. 

"Apologize before I lose my fucking patience and use your ass instead-" 

"I'm sorry! I'm sorry, please, Rafe!" 

"Sorry? For what?"

"Please-"

"Tell me or you don't get to come..."

"I'm sorry for being upset." The words tasted sour once spoken and yet the way he pushed himself inside of you aided the bitterness. The clutch made to your breast as he teased your nipple and the final trace made over your clit became reasons to forgive him. All until you were resigned from reality and set in the comfort of this toxic behavior. 

But it was all for this moment. When his dominance faltered in the release only you could offer him. The comfort only you could grant as his words were true. You would always come back. You would always forgive him. Because you loved him. And in the final motions of his hips slamming into you, he showed this as well. That soft hand to your cheek and kiss swallowing your strained breathing and panting of his name would prove this. The peace among the storm. The reason within the madness. It was worth it all for the way he collected you around him. For you knew no matter the position he has her in or the duration in which she has impressed him with, she would never have this. 

She would never fully have him in the way you had. Even if it was in pieces. It was pieces you could make illusionary to be together. By remaining at his side. By believing his lies. By forgiving him once again. 

And you would. 

Every damn time…

"I'M COMING!" You exclaimed, body in shattered tremors as he nodded, leading you against him as you pulled through a mutual high that reminded you why you worked. The destruction somehow your form of stability that would exist for a time to come. Your body left in shambles and aches he quelled when necessary. An undeserving apology. Another dual existence of a shared release. And a sweet kiss sealing another dysfunctional moment as yet another premonition of what was to come. 

TAGLIST: @hopebaker @drewspisces @penny4yourthoughts @magnificantmermaid @pickingviolets @lovedetlost @trikigirl271 @maybankslover @slut4tangerine @slvtherinseeker @obxiskewl @bluesongbird @slut-era @ailee-celeste @camilynn @sweetestdesire @onmykneesforrafe @jjmaybanksangel @phildunphyisadilf @mashdan0916 @belcalis9503

MASTERLIST 

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[ichigo-dream]

Matthew 11:12

This fic has some heavier themes: Non-Con/Dub-Con, Somnophilia, Violence, Blood, if that isn't your cup of tea then I recommend not reading!

Let me know what you think! I hope you enjoy xoxo

-Ichigo

18+ only, Minors DNI, NSFW.

Includes: Dacryphilia, Dub-Con/Non-Con, Somnophilia, Violence, Blood

All rights reserved: do not translate, plagiarize, claim my writing or cross post it on any other platforms, leave my writing alone.

The night had arrived with the grace of a glass falling to the tiles, shattering into a plethora of lights and stars that could barely be seen. The streets and the nights were what Dabi knew; he could map the back streets and the vendors with the ease of someone all too used to passing by unnoticed.

He hurried through the crowds, turning sharply down a grimy back alley that many passed without so much as a sideways glance, all too eager to hurry past it. Another turn and he was climbing the stairs of an apartment building that looked like it should have been condemned a decade ago.

In that apartment, amongst the dregs of society, Dabi’s heart rested, behind locked doors, vulnerable to no one but its owner.

Everything Dabi had in life, he had because he took it. He had the money for this shitty apartment because he took it from those who didn’t deserve it. He had the clothes on his back because he took them from shops that wouldn’t even notice they were gone. He didn’t have to worry about people fucking with him because he burned them to ash like the trash they were. He took to survive. Dog eat dog world.

the violent take it by force. 

And yet. And yet, standing in the doorway of his room, small enough to make a cupboard look like the Hilton, he watched you as you slept in his bed, unaware and vulnerable.

He didn’t have to take you. You were the only thing in his life that had given itself to him willingly. When he met you that night in the club, he’d thought you were just going to be a way to pass the time, make the night more interesting. How wrong and right he was. You certainly made his night more interesting, only you had bewitched him, even when he’d fucked you that night, even though he’d just came he felt like his heart was going to burst when you stood up to leave; he felt like his self-control was going to snap when you winked and promised him more.

Dabi looked at you now. The girl with no fear. The girl who didn’t look at him in disgust. The girl that picked him. That chose him. He was that girl’s number one, her first choice, the man she’d chosen over everyone else.

In return, you didn’t ask anything of him. Dabi didn’t know what to do with that.

the violent take it by force. 

You’d fallen asleep waiting for him, dressed in a t-shirt you’d stolen from him, claiming that you loved the smell of him, that it made you feel safe and comfortable. Dabi’s insides had twisted when you’d told him that; what the fuck was wrong with you? You loved the scent of burning human flesh? Of smoke? Of misery and ineptitude? You’d smiled and laughed, kissing him gently and simply saying you liked him.

What was there to like? Dabi wasn’t a good person. Good people would see a pretty girl lying in their bed wearing their clothes and tuck them back under the duvet that they’d kicked off of them. Good people didn’t think about how your thighs looked so soft, spread open and inviting to any sick fucker that could have walked through the door

No one would dare. Under pain of death.

Good people wouldn’t be thinking about shoving themselves into vulnerable places, disregarding your tears and taking, taking.

Good people wouldn’t get turned on by the thought. Dabi was harder than he could handle.

the violent take it by force. 

He locked the door behind himself. Setting down the bag by the door and kicking off his boots and coat. He undressed himself silently, unable to take his eyes off you.

Settling between your legs, Dabi spread your thighs, scarred hands a stark contrast to the unmarked glory of your skin. You hadn’t bothered with underwear, and he wouldn’t pretend that that would have stopped him.

He dragged one finger over the hood of your clit, pinching it and then running it between your folds. You were already wet. Already ready for him. Always so willing.

After shimmying down the bed, he ran his tongue through your labia, fingers digging into the plush meat of your thighs and spreading you open so he could spear you on his tongue. Above him, he could see you shifting, moaning quietly as he lapped at your cunt and clit, drinking down everything you gave him. You always just gave to him. Always so wiling. You seemed so much softer and warmer than normal.

Even as he violated you, desecrated you, you were totally at ease under his hands.

the violent take it by force. 

He rose up, spitting into his hand and stroking over his hard cock, weeping with precum and a violent red. Dabi hiked your hips up to rest on his thighs, pushing his shirt up to grasp at your little tits that he loved so much as he slammed himself home.

He was brutal, stretching you open with little prep and finally, finally you woke up, eyes snapping open and mouth opening to scream.

Narrowing his eyes, Dabi wrapped his hands around your throat, ignoring the burning behind his eyes when yours, so wide, so confused, met his.

the violent take it by force. 

“Shut up,” he said, choking on a groan as your walls clenched around him, body relaxing as he continued his assault on your cervix, slamming his cock into you like he wanted to burst through your stomach. You tried to choke out something, cut off sounds spilling from your open mouth.

“Shut the fuck up.” He whimpered, arms beginning to tire and shake. “Shut up, or I’ll fucking kill you.” He leaned his weight down over you, and he felt his cock twitch as your eyes widened when the pressure on your throat increased to unbearable. He was so close. Close to coming, close to losing you, close to crying.

Those beautiful hands he loved, that had been scrabbing at his arms pathetically reached up to grasp his face, fingers finding purchase between the staples that held him together. And then they dug in, and pulled.

You touched skin that hadn’t been touched in nearly a decade, so delicate and painful.

The skin of someone he had buried and burned.

Dabi’s hands left your throat as he screamed, coming up to grab at yours, not pulling them away for fear you’d tear his skin off.

You gasped loudly, drawing in deep breaths, moaning pathetically around the cock that was invading you. What a wakeup call. Your hands fell down beside your head as you gasped, Dabi’s own grasping at his face as he whimpered.

You held one before you, noting that it was drenched in blood. Between the gaps you saw azure flames staring back at you.

Holding Dabi’s eyes you drew the fingers into your mouth, moaning deeply at the metallic iron that washed over your tongue. Not unlike the taste when you’d run your tongue over Dabi’s staples, laving kisses on them.

Dabi groaned at the sight, at the wild look in your eyes, unable to stop himself from grinding forward, loving how your body not once tried to reject him, always sucking him in, demanding more.

Your legs crossed behind his arse and pulled him closer. To say he was shocked was an understatement. Staring down at you through his fingers, hands on his cheeks, holding himself together, weeping blood, he saw that you weren’t angry with him. The look in your eyes was greedy, dark, and so loving.

It drew a sob from his throat.

“It’s okay.” You said, other hand of bloodied fingers coming down to rub at your clit, head thrown back in ecstasy, “It’s okay, Dabi. You’re being so good for me. My baby taking such good care of me.”

Dabi couldn’t stop the bloody tears as they spilled down his cheeks, sobbing desperately as he began to fuck back into you, drawing his hips back and swivelling them up. A wet sob caught in his throat as it was replaced by a moan, the sounds of your sopping wet cunt squelching as he defiled you bringing him to a precipice.

Panting in your face, eyes ablaze, you thought Dabi was beautiful. He was setting a brutal pace, and you knew you’d be aching tomorrow, but you didn’t care. He was filling the emptiness inside you, forcing himself into places that you were too afraid to let anyone else into. Dabi was the only one that would dare to clamber over your defences, and to make sure that you wouldn’t ever forget him.

A particularly brutal thrust had you wailing, legs trembling, and back arching as you came.

“Fuck, please, baby, please, I’m gonna cum, please, please.” Dabi begged, hands clutching at the sheet by your head desperately, and you threw your arms around his neck, breathing into his ear,

“Come for me, that’s it, my good boy, such a good boy.”

With a sob, with a screech, Dabi bottomed out in you, wailing into your neck as he emptied himself in you. Between his incoherent wails, you could’ve sworn you heard him say -

He collapsed on you, breathless, and you peppered kisses on the skin of his forehead, his eyes, lapping up the bloody tears.

A moment passed, and he reared his head,

“I’m sorr-“ you pressed your lips to his, tasting yourself on his tongue, both groaning. The amount of time you both spent kissing each other was endless.

“Shut up, Dabi.” You murmured against his lips, “You were so kind, darling, eating me out like that. I was planning on surprising you, but you wanted to surprise me instead. Such a sweet boy.”

Dabi began trembling and you shushed him, running one hand through his hair, pressing him into your neck, the other running up his spine as he cried.

“You didn’t hurt me, Dabi. You’re not a bad person. I love you too.”

You felt his cock stiffen inside you again, and you grinned into his hair.

“I want you to make sure to kiss me this time.”

Nodding, Dabi swivelled his hips, heart soaring in joy when you giggled.

He was good. He was good to you. He didn’t have to take from you. You would give him everything. He would give you everything. No matter what. You had clawed under his defences, and devoured him.

“I love you, Dabi.”

He’d give you everything. Every part of him. It was yours to use.

He rose and pressed a deep kiss to your lips, and as your lips parted to accept his tongue, he let you swallow and devour the last piece of him.

“Touya.”

From the time of John Baptist hitherto, the kingdom of God suffereth violence,

and the violent take it by force.

[cssiop]

LATE CONFESSION... marcus rashford

marcus confesses to olivia the crush he used to have on her years ago.

marcus rashford x fem!oc word count: 2k

THE SIX-YEAR-OLD MARCUS used to hate it when his parents bumped into an old childhood friend, the one they hadn't seen for two decades and then talked to for what seemed like forever. from children to work, from their wives to their husbands, they would go over the world again, sometimes wondering about the life path of some, the studies they had chosen, and the way they had changed physically. then a joke or two would be thrown in, about the number of wrinkles they had accumulated since then, the responsibilities and the pressure of work too, a far cry from the high school years spent partying and having fun.

the six-year-old boy was getting impatient, huffing and puffing, crossing his arms with a sulky look on his face, wanting his mother or father to finally put an end to this interminable and more than useless conversation for him. but the childhood friend he didn't know would lean over, big smiling eyes on his face before exclaiming, "is he your youngest?" and then would pinch his cheek, as if they knew each other. and the conversation would start again, never stopping, and six-year-old marcus was fed up.

only, his youngest version should have known that he would also become this person one day, almost twenty years later, crossing paths with someone from his past, who, even for a short time, had taken an important place in a moment of his life. olivia, his classmate from the age of thirteen to fifteen. marcus had just bumped into her during a party in the center of manchester as he was about to leave, the watch on his wrist already announcing five o'clock in the morning. normally, he would have apologised and not lingered, but not this time, marcus had recognised the girl in a flash.

"holy shit," a smile crept onto his face, contagious as the same one found its way onto olivia's lips.

"oh my god marcus?!" her eyes grew wide and she laughed childishly, "hi!" she exclaimed excitedly, happy to see the man she was cheating with during tests in year 10.

a similar laugh escaped from between the footballer's stretched lips before he spontaneously opened his arms, inviting her into a brief but nostalgic embrace which she gladly accepted, "olivia! i wasn’t expecting to see you there!"

"well neither did i, what are you celebrating?" she asked as she stepped away from the boy's body, a smile still plastered on her face.

"not anything really, just enjoying a bit with the guys before the season starts again," marcus stated with a small smile on his lips, assuming that olivia knew he was a footballer.

"yeah i saw that, you’re a footballer now," she pushed marcus' shoulder with her fist to laugh as he pretended to be hurt, painting a new wider smile on olivia's face.

"well yeah," the player scratched the back of his neck as the red rose to his cheeks, "and you, what are you doing in manchester?" curiosity overcame him; the reason they had lost contact was that the girl had moved hundreds of miles away.

"i just moved back in!" joy intermingled in her words as she told her newfound friend the good news.

"that's amazing! when did you move back in?" marcus also felt happiness fill him after olivia's words.

"literally today, that's why i'm here," she giggled, "to celebrate my new start," her glass was raised in the air and the player didn't hesitate to do the same with his to clash them as two 'cheers' rang out at the same time from their mouths.

their conversation then went on and on; the girl explained to him the business studies she had undertaken before finally setting up her own company and the reason why she had come back to london. the six-year-old marcus would have been surprised to see himself enjoying this kind of conversation today, listening attentively to olivia, well almost, more hypnotised by her features which had matured and defined themselves over the years. she was still as beautiful as ever, if not more so.

if he could have, marcus would have stood there for hours admiring her as he used to do in secret in class but unfortunately, jadon sancho decided otherwise. when the english player felt his teammate's hand on his shoulder and his loud voice, he held back from rolling his eyes.

"you can't be serious marcus! we said it was a night out between lads, no flirting with chicks!" he laughed and marcus felt a gasp of exasperation come from between his mouth.

"i was not flirting, she's a friend from school, olivia," introduced marcus, giving a somewhat apologetic look to the girl who only seemed amused by the situation.

"oh my bad, nice to meet you olivia," a charming smile now graced jadon’s lips as he held out his hand, and annoyance flared in marcus at his friend's behavior.

"nice to meet you too jadon," the woman had recognised the english striker at a glance, the euro last summer had taught her well about the members of the english men's team.

the three of them started talking, much to marcus’ dismay, and after a while, he was forced to cut the conversation short and almost kick jadon out of the way so that he would leave them alone.

"well...it was great to see you again, marcus, but i should go home now," sighed olivia with a smile that the player returned.

"it was, yeah. i should go too," thousands of thoughts ran through the player's mind as a question burned his tongue, he hesitated to ask it before finally finding the courage to, "by any chance, do you need a ride home tonight?"

olivia didn't need one, her friend was already supposed to give her a lift home, but just for marcus, tonight, she needed one.

"i do, actually."

…

"it's weird that we didn't hang out that much outside of school because we used to get along well during class," marcus softly stated as he drove through the capital under the direction of olivia who showed him the way to her new london flat.

"i think that we had different groups of friends so you know," she shrugged before pausing and then resuming, a new memory flashing through her mind, "and also, i think your friends didn't like me that much."

confusion took over marcus’ facial features as his eyebrows furrowed and his gaze turned stealthily to olivia, "what do you mean?"

"literally every time i'd come near them, i'd always feel like i bothered them," she replied with a small smile in retrospect.

"what? they were literally all in love with you, like everyone," marcus almost exclaimed, very disturbed by the difference in their memories.

he remembered the discussions between them as soon as she passed by their group and the low compliments that they declared to each other.

she remembered their evasive looks as soon as she started talking to them as if they already wanted the conversation to be over, as she seemed to annoy them so much.

a story really always had two sides.

she blinked several times, "what?" it was olivia's turn to be lost.

"everybody had a crush on you."

olivia couldn't believe it, "okay," she turned her body towards marcus who was then forced to alternate his gaze between her and the road, "let's say it's true, how come nobody ever asked me out?" she continued, her hands moving in all directions to support her question.

the corner of his lips edged up faintly at the woman before he returned his gaze to the road, "because you were unattainable, you were too...good. no one thought they had a chance with you."

"how could you even be so sure of that?" her voice went high-pitched as confusion crawled on her face all the more.

today's marcus let a small laugh escape from between his lips as he thought back to the fifteen-years-old marcus; the one who would have done anything for olivia, the one who was nervous but also happy every time she decided to sit next to him, the one who always hoped that by some miracle she would confess her feelings to him in the corner of the playground one day, the one who was excited to go to class in the morning only to see her, but most of all, the one who only thought of her at night when bedtime would come.

marcus thought hard about that old him and then, biting his lip, said softly, almost in a sigh, "because i was one of them."

a sidelong glance was enough for him to see olivia's mouth open wide along with her eyes. then out of nowhere, she tapped him on the shoulder, a big smile now on her mouth, "no way?! and you never told me?!"

she laughed then, not at his confession but rather at the adrenaline that flowed through her veins after it.

"i already told you. you were too good for us, me. i was shy and so scared of being rejected," his cheeks flushed as he did his best to avoid olivia's laughing eyes to his left.

"but if you never try you never know," she declared, a smile still beaming on her lips.

"olivia," he finally found the courage to look her in the eye, "you were smart, pretty, nice to everyone, you liked and played football," he listed all her qualities and the girl felt herself sink into her seat, a flustered smile on her lips, touched by all these words, "and i was just marcus rashford."

olivia frowned at his words, "what do you mean 'you were just marcus rashford'? i literally passed math because of you!" she exclaimed in all seriousness, almost angry at him for reducing himself to his name, to so little.

a laugh then echoed through the car as he threw his head back, grinning from ear to ear at olivia's words. he dragged her along with him for a while before a comfortable silence settled in where they were both still processing everything they had just said to each other and the way this night was turning out.

and as marcus parked downstairs from her building, he ended up asking her another question that he didn't know would have such nice consequences, "if i had asked you out back then, what would you have said?"

a smile that could only mean good news made its way onto olivia's face and she looked into ben's oceanic eyes, "definitely yes," she paused, "i had a crush on you too marcus," she breathed out and giggled happily, "why do you think i always sat next to you in class?"

the man's eyes opened wide, so wide he thought they would pop out of their sockets, "really?" he asked softly as a smile settled on his face once more.

"hell yeah."

"well...we look like two fucking idiots now," marcus laughed, dragging olivia along as she stretched her full lips and crinkled the corners of her eyes in hilarity.

the fifteen-year-old marcus would have jumped up and down when he heard that his feelings were reciprocated by the girl, and that same marcus would have let olivia out of her car and simply said goodbye, without trying anything more, too shy to do so. but tonight, marcus was no longer fifteen; he had gained more self-confidence and self-assurance. so today's marcus, seeing olivia open the door and put her feet on the ground, was not going to give up his chance.

that same marcus called out to her to turn around and with a charming little smile, asked her in complete hope, "could i get your number before you go?"

[cryptidsurveys]

Wednesday, November 27th, 2024.

New tats in your near future? No.

How about piercings or re-piercings? Also no.

Are there any rooms in your house that you don’t go into every day? The third bedroom, the downstairs bathroom, the living room, and the basement.

Who else do you know who has the same favorite color as you do? I'm not sure, but I probably know someone with similar favorite colors/color schemes.

Have you ever had a tattoo covered up or added to? No.

Have you ever kissed someone who has previously kissed someone you hated? No.

Do you have any relatives with red hair? Not that I'm aware of.

What is tomorrow’s weather forecasted to be like? It's supposed to be sunny with a high of 39*F. Also, we got that rain / snow last night and into this morning<3.

Have you ever known anyone who committed suicide? The father of one of my past partners was thought to have taken his own life.

What’s some of the worst pain you’ve ever felt? Migraines.

What’s your favorite kind of pasta? Like an actual dish? Maybe Italian shell casserole or mac & cheese. If we're just talking shapes, then shells, elbows, and spirals.

Would you rather a friend come over to your house or you go over there? Go over there. Even though it would mean traveling all the way to California.

Have you ever had rabies? No.

Do you know anyone who ever had to get a rabies shot? I don't think so.

Ever eaten deer? Duck? Squirrel? How about lamb? I've eaten deer and possibly lamb (my memory isn't clear on that one), and I would be willing to try duck or squirrel.

What is your favorite parody movie? I don't have a favorite, but I'm suddenly reminded of this Lord of the Rings parody that Jenni and I rented for a weekend cabin stay when we were tweens. We didn't realize it wasn't a very PG parody…

What is your least favorite ice cream flavor? I'm not a huge fan of plain vanilla. I like it in things like shakes and ice cream bars and such, but by itself it's kind of eh.

Does your car have heated seats? No, but my dad's does.

Have you ever been tempted to steal? Yeah, when I was young and dumb. Teenagers are legitimately stupid. <- This.

Would you rather travel to Ireland or Japan? I wouldn't mind going to Ireland, but Japan is at the top of my list of places to visit.

Does tickling turn you on? Maybe under the right circumstances…?

If you could go over to someone’s house right now, whose and why? I'd rather not. I'm in the midst of baking a pumpkin pie and will be seeing Wicked with my mom later this morning.

What is the age gap between you and your parents?

How many bathrooms does your house have? Is this enough? Three. Except the one in the master bedroom is no longer functional. It's just me and my dad living here, so it's plenty.

Have you ever video-chatted with someone you met online? No.

Do you collect anything, or have you ever? I used to collect Beanie Babies, as well as Pokémon and Yu-Gi-Oh cards.

When was the last time you used Facebook? The last time I had an active account was about a decade ago.

How many siblings does your best friend have? Zero.

Have you ever dated someone who was emotionally or mentally unstable? Yeah.

Be honest: are you clingy? I definitely used to be. I have more going on in my own life now, though, so I probably wouldn't be as suffocating as I was in the past.

Have you ever had bronchitis? No.

Have you ever had a reptile for a pet? No.

Are you afraid of the dentist? Not really, but I've still put off going for a long, long time.

Did you attend Sunday School as a child? Rarely.

Who was the last person you cuddled with? A past partner.

How would you feel if your significant other (or possible partner) told you they dislike having sex, but do so with you to make you happy, even though they personally think it’s a chore? I would prefer a partner who enjoyed intimacy as well.

Your boyfriend/girlfriend isn’t around but their phone is. Do you look through it? No.

Do you think you will be in a relationship 3 months from now? No.

Have you ever liked anyone that was in a relationship with someone else? Yeah. I've explained the situation before.

Do people ever compliment your eyes? Not very often, but it's probably happened at some point.

Have any of your exes ever given you roses? I think Michael did.

Do you think your last ex ever thinks about you? I have no idea. If they do, then it's probably not very often because that relationship ended years ago.

Would you rather have salad or french fries for a side dish? Depends on what I'm in the mood for at the time.

Which one of your relationships was the shortest? Michael or my most recent ex (we were very on again / off again, so even though the relationship "spanned" the longest stretch of time, the time we were actually together wasn't very long.)

Which was the longest? Nick.

Have any of your exes told you they regret breaking up with you? Not those exact words.

Would you feel hurt if your last ex is in a relationship? Last I knew, they were in a relationship. They were the last time we dated, too. It was a poly situation.

Are you going to be getting any new pets soon? No.

Do you like BBQ sauce? Yeah.

What do you like to do when you’re home alone? Make art, watch YouTube, take surveys. Pretty much the same things I would do if someone else was there.

Should the guy always pay for the date? No.

What kind of music calms you down? Meditation or soft classical music.

Do you know anyone who has autism? My best friend is on the spectrum.

What is your favorite way to eat eggs? Scrambled or over easy.

Do you like Frozen? I never saw it.

Who is one of your heroes? My dad.

Do you enjoy hot chocolate? Yes.

Do you use Instagram often? Yeah.

If you got a kitten, what would you name it? I'd have to actually see and interact with the kitten in order to name it.

Do you have a Pinterest account? No.

Do you prefer a quiet or noisy environment? A balance. The animal shelter can be a bit chaotic at times and it can be energizing to a point, but I also need quiet time to rejuvenate.

What is one question you don’t like being asked? Ugh.

Who is someone you know who is talkative? Liv.

When was the last time you saw one of your uncles? Probably childhood.

Do you know anyone who plays the violin? Riley used to. Idk if she still does.

Do your parents enjoy any of the things that you enjoy? Do you bond over these things? Yeah. My dad and I both enjoy hiking/camping. I also enjoy going to movies with my mom, but that's more of me tagging along for her interest than something we both enjoy independently. I wouldn't be much of a movie person at all if not for her.

Out of all your usernames for websites, which one is your favorite? Do you use it for more than one site? Idk.

Have you ever spent the whole day (or multiple days) just looking up one thing on the internet (e.g., videos of your favorite band, how-to videos, quizzes, etc.)? Oh sure.

If someone told you that we live in a society that hates women, how would you respond? I really don’t give a fuck to participate in bullshit like that, sorry. 🙃 <-Same. Except I'm not very outspoken, so I would pretend to agree while maintaining my own stance internally. :')

Can you remember the last thing you thought and subsequently thought, “wow, I really shouldn’t be thinking that”? Last night on the drive home. Almost sunk into the suicidal stew. Was weirdly sad / sensitive all day. Chocked it up to the fact that time of the month is approaching. Guess I have to amend a previous statement that my mood swings aren't that bad. ;D

[klausinamarink]

for @blubblesandink who requested the prompts “two shots of vodka” and “After the night, when I wake up, I’ll see what tomorrow brings” with Nancy! I hope you enjoy this and I apologize for the belated fic!

-

She always goes to a different bar, even she’s still in the city or the state. A few times, she’s at a different country, on the road of her current scoop which gives her an excuse to order exquisite drinks before her usual. Keeps her buzzed and loose enough before she starts the tradition with that somber cloud that never skips a moment precipitating above her head.

But this year, Nancy is in Halifax. The temperatures here are more frigid given the Canadian side of the Atlantic. But she finds herself embracing it more easily than she had in past twenty-eight years next to Lake Michigan, excluding her time abroad. Maybe there’s some truth about living in Canada is easier than in America. 

Unless Nova Scotia has its own story of alternate dimensions and bloodthirsty psychic monsters. 

She’s not retired yet, but Nancy sees herself moving a little down to a farmhouse at the countryside, maybe with three sheepdogs and a horse for company. She smiles at the thought and files that to the cabinet in her brain specifically saved for the future. 

When Nancy takes a seat at the counter, the bartender comes up and asks for her order. 

Nancy finds herself hesitating. Debates between her usual and trying something new that would help her ease and settle further into the setting. The bar is cozy, more of a cafe for catching Z’s and seagazing than a commonplace for alcohol and sorrows. There’s even fluffy couches aligned below the windows. 

In the end, Nancy stays faithful. 

“Two shots of vodka.”

The bartender nods. She looks five years younger than Nancy, one side of hair longer the other and dyed lavender. She’s quick too. Nancy swears by the time ‘vodka’ leaves her lips, the bartender has already slid the drinks over.

“Waiting for someone or is it personal?” She asks with a lopsided grin.

Nancy smiles back, “Personal matter.”

She makes a sympathetic click with her tongue. “Well, if you need anything, another drink or food, let me know.”

Nancy watches her leave to the other end before casting her gaze back to the vodka shots.

In the beginning, the first several years, she had made mental monologues to herself. A mix of self-consciousness of saying anything aloud in public and a silly superstitition that somehow Barb can still hear her. 

That’s how it started. In honor of Barb. Every year, on the same day. September the fourth. When Nancy Wheeler and Barbara Holland found each other in kindergarten and stayed together since. 

Nancy forgets easily - underestimates - about how much grief can not only fill up your body more than water and how it never gets drained out, no matter how many times she rings it out of the cloth. It always refills.

But that doesn’t mean that the grief reaches the same level as it usually does. Every year, Nancy feels its capacity lower and lower until she’s trending through it by her ankles. Like that part of a beach’s shore where the waves lap around the legs but never soak you or get strong enough to pull you in.

Sometimes, Nancy looks back at those years and wonders how she managed to survive without risking alcohol poisoning like she’d nearly done at Tina’s Halloween party in ‘84.

Nowadays though, her tradition had shifted from honoring Barb’s memory to the Party’s.

They aren't gone gone. But their once fire-forged connection had waned over the decades, especially as the kids had grown older and moved to live on their own. Nancy still talks to Mike, though their last conversation was two months ago when she told him about her move.

Some days, she regrets leaving them so soon. Wishes of another life where she put her own ambitions behind and stayed in touch with the Party. 

But those wishes are still regrets. Even the occasional wandering thought of where Steve or Jonathan or Max or anybody was right now will never give her a clear answer.

Nancy taps a finger on her chosen glass. Her recently manicured nail makes tiny clink-clink noises against the edge, creating tiny ripples across the content’s surface. 

She sighs. Rolls her neck with a crick - god, she’s getting old - and finally lifts up her shot in salute to nobody and everyone in particular. 

“To you, to us.” 

She gulps down the vodka. It flows warmly down her throat and settles in her chest like a dragon breathing fire in reverse.

As she places the glass back down, Lavender Hair appears in front of her. Nancy doesn’t jump or flinch.

“What about the other one?” She asks.

Nancy shoulders on her coat and tote bag as she sits up, “I just leave it for a while. Dunno what happens after I leave.” She pauses before chuckling, “Maybe one of the ghosts drinks it.”

Before the bartender can comment, Nancy slaps a ten dollar bill in front of her and leaves the bar.

Outside, she takes a moment to inhale the fresh afternoon air and turn her face towards the sun. It’s barely five in the afternoon but she has an article to finish by tomorrow.

[sylvaridreams]

hey o/ i haven't finished the update yet either but i wanted to say I agree with your take, I like to give things a lot of benefit of the doubt to settle, I wanted to give a 'fresh start' a chance because I respect the idea, but at this point I think I have to admit that nothing about this feels. interesting. at all. I can only see it as such when I remember how fun updates were back in the day.

the key difference for me being that nothing was ever *just* about dramatic events in the world. it was events plus how it affected your friends. it always had something to do with the core cast around you, and you cared about them. soto has not done that even slightly and I'm so disappointed. zojja kind of worked, but. you're right. I just don't care. they haven't given me a reason to! i don't give a shit about peitha! I WAS enjoying the 'new cast' like gladium and lyhr, but they're all gone now as well??

what am i supposed to be attached to here. genuinely can someone at anet tell me.

sorry for vent it's just your post got me in that angry level of agreement

No no for REAL. Like. You're absolutely right. The old story was never just "such and such place is under attack! Well you saved it. And on to the next big drama." It was always "and look at how the people you love suffered, triumphed, persevered through it." The cast they gave us, that they built the foundations of over a decade ago, they were ALWAYS a part of the story that mattered as much as The Main Character, and as much as The Big Dramatic Events. Rarely did I feel like "Why was Taimi there? She didn't add anything to the expac." NEVER were core npcs introduced and then just put away again like this. You're told that you HAVE TO care so deeply about Zojja- oh she wiped her memory clean and doesn't know you. Mabon- oh he's dead. Lyhr, Gladium, Rrtchik- nvm we forgot them all actually. Why am I meeting these people at all? This doesn't feel like a place I'm going to stay or people who will stay in my life! This feels like they're just kind of having me run some errands for them until we part ways in a couple days! Wayfinder you're just who I was hoping to see! Can you do my laundry and then Peitha needs you to stand there in silence while she discusses strategy with the people who ACTUALLY matter this arc. Ok thanks!

It just sucks I'm not having fun in this story. I'll finish it out but honestly? Had I joined Gw2 and STARTED with SotO, as I know many people have? I would not be sticking around long. I would not be impressed by the depth if the narrative, and I doubt I would go put more money into it to play the expacs and seasons to figure out where the GOOD story was.

We had such a deep rich world and this feels cheap and flat.

[agirlandherquill]

the calendar project - day 13

today's one was a quick write, but just as fun

daily page count: 2

time spent: 20 mins

here's today's pages,

“Are you done staring or should I leave you out here to get frost-bite?”

He saw how it pained her to tear her eyes away from the circular stained glass window sitting a few metres above the church doors. The distant glow of candles within cast the wilting rose in a charming, yet tragic light.

“What does it mean?”

“Not a clue, we all have our theories but those who know stopped coming to this place decades ago.” Reid unbound the saddle bags and tossed them in the general direction of the stables around the corner, he’d deal with them later. The horse was tied to a post near the door, he hadn’t a single worry about someone coming and stealing it, no-one from Leirside ever bothered to wander this far. 

She still hadn’t moved off the horse. He raised a brow at her. “I should’ve known this would be quicker.”

“What would-” She broke off with a squeal that made him grin as he threw her over his shoulder, striding for the doors. “Put me down you imbecile, now!” He ignored her, opening the door with one hand, as he passed the threshold he felt her tense beneath his arm. “All right, all right, don’t scream like you’re being murdered, I’ll put you down!” He dropped her abruptly and she staggered on barefeet, flinching at what he knew to be a very cruel, icily cold, stone tile. Her back hit a pew and she gasped, turning from him to view the room. 

Reid didn’t need to see her face to know there was awe on it.

For a crumbling church, it had its fair share of beauty. He decided to let her enjoy it while he saw to the horse. He paused at the door only to tell her to wait for him.

“I’ll be a minute, don’t leave this room.”

If she heard him she showed no signs of it. He sighed and untied the horse, heading for the stables. Calling it a stable was a laughable affair, it was nothing more than a small outbuilding joined to that of the church, the tiles on the roof leaked every time it rained and only three of the stalls were functional, he led his horse to the first stall, the only one that currently stood empty, and set the saddlebags down in a corner with the other bits he and his team had stashed for the horses. He grabbed a fistful of hay and fed it to his horse, smiling at the pleased snorts the mare made.

“I didn’t know churches had stables.” 

Reid almost went for his sword, stopping only when he placed the voice. He turned with a sigh, wiping his hands on his trousers.”I thought I told you to stay put.”

“I wanted to see some more, and I assumed you wouldn’t want an unwanted guest wandering around unsupervised, so I came here, so you can supervise me.”

Reid laughed. “Not much to see, but if you say so.”

“Plenty to see. Beautiful horses.” He watched her quietly as she took some hay and a bucket of water he’d just been about to grab to see to the other two horses. Isolde noticed him staring. “What? I’m not allowed to help?”

“I’m surprised you want to.” He patted his head, the horses had everything they needed for the night. 

“Because I spend my time with snobs?” She bristled. He gave her a look. “Because I thought you’d be tired, from the ride, and that nightmare.”

Isolde sighed, “Very well, can we go inside now? My feet feel as though they’re turning blue.”

Reid bolted the stalls before he turned to stare at her. He’d forgotten about her shoes, or lack thereof. What sort of woman does that? In this weather?

“Lead the way then, I’m sure you can manage to walk that far.”

Isolde snorted and headed back to the church, Reid followed close behind her.

[crimsonlyinglilly]

Day 16 “At least it can’t get any worse.”           

| Secret | Stranded | Setback |

Still with Caged Founder and another day for @juneofdoom,

Tristan struggles with feelings as he tries to work out how deal with the new Elijah

Follows from Dissociation

---

Tristan watched Elijah, Elijah looked back.

That was an improvement he thought with little enthusiasm, Elijah hadn't acknowledged him in the cell until he had nearly choked him, and then it had been with an empty gaze and hollow smile.

He had rejected the offers to leave the cell but hadn’t argued then Tristan had unchained him, hadn’t fought when Tristan had taken his arm to lead him to the office, instead Elijah had followed silently, meekly, it was wrong.

When they got to his office Elijah had gone to his chair, the one he had always sat in like a king within Tristan’s office, even when the ritual had been fresh, even when he was in the middle of suffering through whatever punishment Tristan had decided he sat up back straight, head high. 

Now Elijah was curled up having pulled his legs up to wrap his arms around them. 

It was wrong, putting his shoes on the fabric, too childish, too much like Rory. 

Elijah Mikaelson was never meant to look so small.  

He was lean, never as tall as his brothers but he had an air about him that took up space that expected attention. 

That was gone now. 

He's starting to think he and Aya shouldn't have left him when he asked a week ago, but they had thought this was a brief slip, leaving Elijah alone would give him a chance to recollect himself.

Then again finding Elijah on the floor, laughing hysterically the heart on the floor, his own heart, that he had torn out, wasn't something either of them knew what to do with.

The Witches had asked for the heart, to experiment with, Tristan had refused until Elijah had torn another heart from his chest the moment he had been released from the chains, that was the only reason he had been left up for the week. Tristan had sent the second heart to the witches and kept the first preserved.

Aya had followed the heart to demand answers from the witches for a way to fix Elijah's mind, after her visit on the third day, while Tristan had waited almost sure his sire just needed time. If it had been that simple they could have done it over a decade ago, placed Elijah on their side from the moment they had him instead of this slow game.

This game that had apparently shattered him.

He should have known this was going to happen nearly a decade and a half since he had seen his siblings, since he had been brought to the manor. 

Niklaus Mikaelson’s careless words to the pair of Strix that Elijah had asked to be sent to assist him may have done more damage to Elijah than anything Tristan had managed.

The news that Rebekah was daggered, that his letters, his one escape had been a lie not from Tristan but his own brother. 

Leaving Klaus the only one who could come for him, the brother who hated the Strix and had been so quick to believe Elijah had abandoned him for them. 

It was all perfect for Tristan but seemed to have broken the small piece that Elijah had been clinging to. 

It should have been perfect for him but Tristan hated it. 

The eyes the regraded him, were wide wary almost childlike unlike the sharp intelligence he was use to.

“I’ve enjoyed our game,” he tells his sire, “I was always going to win but I don’t want this.” 

He wanted revenge, he had got that, but this was a waste.

This shattered remains of a man he respected, the broken doll of someone he wanted as a near equal, this empty gaze far too similar to his sister’s worst days. 

“You won.” came the too quiet reply “Find someone else to play with and leave me as the king piece on the board.” 

“The chess games triggered this-” he asked incredulously, just days ago Elijah had been beating him, now he didn't think he'd be able to move a piece without being told to.

“Something would have, if not that, then a debate with Aya that reminded me of the guilt and dead at my hands.” Elijah explains, almost returning to his old self before the next words send the pit dropping out of Tristan’s stomach “Just return me to the dark and leave me to rot.” 

Leave me to rot Rory had shouted at him more than once when he time his visit wrong.

“No.” he refused, suddenly realising how empty his life would be if he allowed that, it wasn't just about delivering on his promise to Aya, “I make the decisions.” he reminded the other.

“You do,” Elijah smiled nodding but his eyes weren’t seeing him anymore returning to the empty way they had looked when Tristan had first entered the room, “my clothes, my hair, what I do everyday, I'll just wait until you grow bored.”

“Never.” he swore, hand moving without his intention; to reach for the other, shake him, drag him back out of his head with a touch.

Blank empty eyes met his, over the top of the other’s knees.

He needed to find another reason for Elijah to fight, something that would offer him a distraction from his current situation and a reason to care about something, anything.

Elijah Mikaelson had a big heart and a desperate want to do good, Tristan would find a way to use that.

He'd find someone else Elijah could care for, to replace the siblings that had forgotten him, if he had to.

This wasn’t what he wanted anymore.

This was a setback but he would fix it.