#great way to end c+c. on a low note

[lordgrimwing]

Illness/Fading #01

[For C+C week hosted by @candcweek. Prompt: Words unspoken]

Celegorm sat in the armchair near the fire. He stared at the flames, eyes open but unfocused, blinking slowly and occasionally as though it took great effort. They looked painfully large in the sunken skin of his face. His thin shoulders trembled under the thick moose fur Nerdanel draped him in before leaving with Elrond to collect herbs. A shallow breath caught in his throat and he coughed once, weakly and thin.

Curufin looked up from where he was shelling walnuts at the dinner table, instantly alert. He set the nuts aside and stood up. Stepping quickly to the armchair, he knelt at his brother’s side. “I’m here, Celegorm. Do you need something?” He asked, laying a callused hand on his brother’s knee.

No response came to the question. He wasn’t expecting one, not really. Celegorm hadn’t said a thing since they found him in the mud and rotting leaves of spring, foot caught in a snare and nearly dead. Curufin clasped his bony fingers, cool despite the warmth of the room.

“You’re so cold,” he murmured, rubbing the hands between his own to warm them. The perpetual chill was unnerving but so much was unsettled on the mountain these days.

Celegorm wheezed again, breath crackling wetly in his chest. Curufin pulled the heavy fur more securely around him, then stood and pushed the chair, brother and all, closer to the fire in the hearth. The wooden feet screeched across the floorboard worn smooth by decades of familiar feet.

A minute passed, marked by a clock nailed to the wall. When the family was young and the children still growing up, that spot on the wall held no clock. They’d debated for a long time before deciding to mount it. Fëanor mistrusted everything that had to be brought from town more and more, worried that they might somehow disrupt the tenuous safety they’d carved out of the thickening shadows. Time, though, was becoming a tricky thing, as malleable as snow on some days and as unholdable as water on others. The clock kept them on track. Celegorm continued to shake.

The mid-autumn sun streamed in through the open windows, warm and soothing.

Curufin looked at the depleted stack of firewood to the side of the hearth. He touched Celegorm’s knee again. “I’m going to get more wood for the fire. I’ll be right back.”

He rose and left, making the short trek out the kitchen door to the nearest woodshed. The sun warmed his back as he collected an armload of fuel. 

Three chickens ran over, racing to search for bugs and spiders disturbed from the pile. The plump birds clucked and grumbled happily amongst each other, content in the safety of the glen. 

On the way back inside, he spied a lone dog sitting between the open doors of the barn. It had a short, wiry coat and ears that were perpetually half-cocked, one flopping more than the other. The last of the once numerous hounds, this one lived a spoiled life compared to its past packmates, feeding on table scraps and even receiving pats and belly rubs from the younger family members. Elros developed a particular fondness for the animal after Celegorm’s second disappearance. 

(There was a fight that evening. Nothing had been right since Celegorm came back and Fëanor finally confronted him about what he’d been doing in town, about the woman he tried to kill. There was yelling and shouting and the argument moved outside until Celegorm, seething about how Fëanor cut them off from the world in their isolated home and taught them to fear what they had every right to enjoy and experience for themselves, tore the charms and protective necklaces from around his neck and threw them at his father’s feed. He’d left after that. Didn’t so much as say a word to anyone else, just took his horse, whistled for his favorite dog, and rode away.)

Returning, Curufin piled the wood in the metal woodbox before setting several on the fire. He sat back on his heels, watching the wood catch until he felt uncomfortably warm so close to the flames. He turned back to his brother, still huddled in the chair, sunken features pinched with unvoiced discomfort. 

Surprisingly, Celegorm had moved slightly while he was gone. It wasn’t much, just a slight shift in his seat, but it made the fur slip off one thin shoulder.

Curufin wiped sweat from his forehead. He reached out and fixed the covering. “Hey, now,” He said, voice unexpectedly thick and prickly in his throat. “You won’t stay warm like that.”

Celegorm shook under his hands. His gaze drifted down and to the side of the chair as he blinked slowly, like someone on the cusp of sleep. Perhaps he would. He slept so little.

Leaving him alone, Curufin went back to the buckets of walnuts at the table. He worked quietly. When he next looked up, he found that the fur had fallen again. With a sigh, he got up to fix it with a small apology for not getting it right the first time as he tugged the edge tight and touched it between Celegorm’s other shoulder and the back of the armchair. Despite the heavy fur and fire, he hadn’t started sweating at all, which was a little disconcerting when Curufin’s shirt felt uncomfortably damp against his skin. With his brother securely tucked in, he turned around and went back to the table.

By the time he sat down, the fur was once again slipping down.

He sat and stared at it for a long moment. 

Not once in all the months since they’d found him trapped out in the woods had Celegorm done any but the most basic things on his own. He could chew and swallow soft foods and liquids, relieve himself, and occasionally move his eyes, but not once—as far as Curufin knew and everyone would know if things changed—done anything more complex or meaningful on his own. One night, he’d overheard Nerdanel, Caranthir, and Elrond discussing the possibility that Celegorm couldn’t do things for himself after the thing twisting the mountain out from under them toyed with his body for so long, after he was bound to it for so long. Curufin walked away from that conversation and quickly set about repairing loose planks in the hayloft. It was one of those tasks he once found horridly tedious and always left for one of the others to do (the chore usually ended up in Celegorm's hands, since he spent so much time around the barn anyway). 

Which was to say, he knew he wasn’t doing this intentionally. He knew Celegorm, his daring older brother when he was a child, his confidant when Celebrimbor was a baby, his friend and companion during the long years as the world slowly spiraled out of control around them, wasn’t letting the fur fall to make him come back over. He knew that but it was so hard to not give it meaning as he slowly stood and walked back across the room to join him.

He stood in front of him. 

Celegorm sat unresponsive, leaning slightly to one side so his shoulder rested against the upholstered side of the chair. His eyes were as vacant and unseeing as ever, lost where none of them could reach him. There was a little bit of space on the seat beside him, next to the side the fur kept falling from.

It was so very hard to not see it as something more—to not give it meaning.

Sometimes, though, it doesn’t matter if something should have meaning because it does and that can’t be helped. 

Curufin sat in the open spot. It was tight and he had to sit half-turned on his hip to fit without ending up on top of Celegorm. He shifted and twisted and trapped his strong arms around his trembling brother and pulled him onto his lap. With a little more adjusting, he had him curled up comfortably against his chest, still wrapped up, with Celegorm’s blond head resting just under his chin.

“There we go,” he murmured. “I know–” he struggled. “I know you aren’t asking to be held, but I hope you don’t mind.”

Curufin could get no more words out after that, so he closed his mouth and let his cheek fall against Celegorm’s hair. He exhaled slowly, recalling the way his hair used to smell.

Caranthir found them like that an hour later, both sound asleep.

[clawsdevour]

seasons

wc: 1.8k content warning: iwaizumi x reader, fluff, a bit of angst, confession, not proofread

note: if u can't tell.. i was lowk inspired by wave to earth's seasons b/c i recently went to their concert a few days ago!!! (IT WAS LIFE CHANGING *REAL*)

۶♡ৎ *.

Ever since your first year at Aoba Johsai high school. You always found this guy on the volleyball to be very cute, and sweet despite only seeing and talking to him a few times. Now that you’re starting your second year at Aoba Johsai, you can’t help but feel ecstatic and always nervous around him now that you share classes with Iwaizumi!

The moment you slid open the door to stride into your scheduled class, you huff out a loud sigh to clear your mind. Unprepared to see the new faces that could possibly be in your class this year made you nervous but excited to see how the year would unfold as the seasons flew by. 

That humid summer air when your fingers gripped onto the door handle, wafting in the moment you opened the door to see a pair of familiar eyes staring at you across from the window seat. 

His tan skin, and dark brown hair followed by his beady eyes narrowing at you as his hand was placed right under his chin. It was Iwaizumi Hajime, your long term crush from last year in the same class as you. Someone you thought you’d get over until he popped up again, for another year, maybe even two.

Looking at the board, your assigned seat was.. right next to him. Maybe that’s why he was staring at you, you thought as you gulped in anxiousness. Stepping over as your shoes clacked against the smooth floor, pulling out your chair to sit next to him. 

Your mind raced with trivial questions that arose. What if he finds me weird? Do I look okay? Does he know me already? What if he’s that type of guy to not talk to his desk mate!?

Looking at him from the side of your vision, he’s so much cuter up close it makes your stomach flutter while you try to keep your best posture in check, acting as if he’s observing you.

“Um.. Hi,” his low voice spoke to you, a hand waving to grab your attention.

“Hi..” reciprocating his greeting.

“I’m Hajime Iwaizumi” giving you a subtle warm smile, “Oh! I’m y/n.”

That’s how you two began your friendship that grew over the four seasons that passed on by. At the end of summer when school started was when you first actually met him. During this time, you found out multiple things you never expected to know about him like how he acts during class, his study habits, his overal likes and dislikes, and how he looks at you when he thinks you don’t know that he’s staring.

You two grew rapidly fast. Starting off as classroom partners, not just because you’re deskmates, but also because you two didn’t know anyone else in your class. It was like the school really set you two up with your classes because you’re stuck with him for the whole year. 

Winter was when he found out that you two walk the same way home, thinking that you were just a familiar figure walking ahead of him until he caught up with you one day. That way, he started to walk a bit longer to drop you off home to ensure that you make it back home safe and sound. 

Things went great for the time being, as you two started to hang during lunch sometimes, and after school as well. Though, that was until Iwaizumi introduced one of his bestest friends from the same volleyball team as him into the picture.

Whenever you two hung out, he’d invite Oikawa Tooru. Sure, he was popular but that didn’t really appeal to you. Nor how Oikawa really acts, even if he was silly because you already have this established liking and developing feelings for Iwaizumi.

At the end of winter, the two started to get more busy practicing for boys’ volleyball season. You couldn’t lie, it felt lonely walking home alone most days. You missed Iwaizumi’s warm and comforting presence that walked by your side, but at least you still got to talk to him every minute in class.

Though, Iwaizumi did act a bit off at this point. As if something at the bottom of your stomach was telling you there was something going on because of the attitude he started coming off as.

Getting to class just a bit earlier than him, you sat and waited until he came. His face is dull and the smile he gives you just wasn’t like his regular ones. His body language is exuding exhaustion and he carried himself as if he were limp.

“Hey,” he’d say under his breath, as if he didn’t wanna talk to you like he always does.

At some point you were fed up with this. You couldn’t grasp onto why he’s been acting this way. Was it because of volleyball season that’s stressing him out? Though, that couldn’t be the case because Oikawa acts like usual taunting brat he is. So why is Iwaizumi upset and grumpy?

“Uh– hey” trying to respond with less energy than you usually do in case he was having an overall bad day.

Your head was throbbing from over contemplating his actions that took a turn for the worse. He wasn’t just like this now. It seemed as if something was getting in between your friendship. And it all started when he brought in Oikawa.

Spring rolled by, but you still couldn’t put a finger on why Iwaizumi’s behavior changed so quickly. Now, he can barely keep eye contact with you. The only time he does is when he asks for help on classwork and it is driving you absolutely nuts.

The next time you hang out with him, you’re gonna give him an earful. Though, looking at how rocky your friendship had become, at some pint you started to believe that there wouldn’t be a next time.

That was until you spotted Oikawa and Iwaizumi leaving practice early. Taking this chance to see what’s up and just chat while walking home like usual, you skipped over to catch up with them. Iwaizumi’s still giving you the cold shoulder with his stern facial expressions while Oikawa’s cracking up some jokes on the side to accompany you.

“I’ll just walk home alone… Oikawa’ll walk you home,” Iwaizumi dryly said, breaking up the conversation while knowing that you and him always took the same way home whereas Oikawa’s house was in the opposite direction.

“Fine by me!” Oikawa bubbly cheered like always.

“No, that's not happening. Don’t leave me alone with this doofus, Iwa!” you teased at Oikawa, coming to a halt when you saw Iwaizumi storming ahead of you two.

“Look. Just go, I’ll be fine” Iwaizumi demanded with a furious tone, looking back with his eyes squinted in anger.

“Oikawa.. you should probably go. I can just walk with Iwaizumi since we’re headed the same way” just slightly nudging Oikawa to urge him over to his side of the neighborhood.

Shrugging before he walked off alone, Oikawa left the premise as you two watched his chestnut hair start to fade off the more steps he took. The silence between you and Iwaizumi was absolutely killing you just before you heard his irriated tone switch back to his low voice that you longed to hear.

“I’m sorry I’m acting like this. It’s foolish of me,” staring down at your shoes before tilting his head up at your puzzled face that tried to understand what he was implying.

“No no, you’re- you’re fine..” waving away his apology, though still skeptical for what he’s apologizing for.

“I can’t do this anymore. I like you, but I see the way you talk and laugh with him,” dropping his shoulders along with his head as he mumbles from under his breath.

Your mouth is dropped dead onto the ground in astonishment from what you’re hearing. Iwaizumi likes me back..? Is Oikawa really the reason why he has been acting like this these past few weeks? Your mind ran in circles, circulating an answer as you squirmed in surprise.

“W-What do you mean..?” trying to understand what he’s thinking about you and Oikawa.

“It’s obvious. You like Oikawa and he probably likes you back. It’s totally okay to just reject me because you like him, he’s a great guy and you two would make a good match..” avoiding all eye contact with you as his eyes avert to look behind you. The wave of sadness flushing over his complexion made your heart break just looking at him because you’ve never seen him in this state before.

“NO! That’s not it Iwa..! You don’t get it,” grasping onto his biceps to pull his forlorn face closer to yours as you tried to knock some sense into him.

“If I can’t be your love, I’d still be by your side.. I’d give you my life because I love you, just know that” finally locking eye contact with you as his eyes glossed with the tears starting to swell up.

“Are you crying? Are you stupid Iwa..? The only person here that I like here is you!” almost shouting in his face.

His eyes widened in revelation. How could he be so naive? The way you act around Oikawa was only to match with his energy, not to indicate that you liked him back. Of course, that was the answer, how could Iwaizumi not know?

The only person you gave extra time to was Iwaizumi and him only! It only started to get rocky when Oikawa was brought into the picture because Iwaizumi thought that you got along so well with him so he can introduce you to his best friend, which was not the case at all from the start. 

“Me? But what about how you approached me? I even introduced you to Oikawa because I thought you wanted to get closer to me to get closer to Oikawa,” questioning how you had different energy levels that switched between him and his friend.

“See, I only acted normal around Oikawa because well, he’s just like that. You on the other hand, I just can’t stop tensing and getting nervous around because I actually like you. I don’t wanna mess up in front of you because I want to show you the best version of myself! So much that sometimes I end up saying nothing at all..” sliding your hands down to hold his as you swung them around confessing how you really felt with Iwaizumi.

“Oh really?” looking up to see him a simple small smile plasted pressed against his lips.

“Yeah..” his infectious toothy grin starting to appear when you exchanged eye contact.

“My love?”

masterlist here

[delicrieux]

…TAKING WHAT’S NOT YOURS ! ⋆｡°✩

⋆⭒˚.⋆ chapter summary. the fireworks festival.

pairing. gojo satoru x f!sorcerer reader warnings for this chapter. swearing, character death (off screen, dw) wc. 6.3k author’s note. gege deserves to be charged for war crimes for what he's done, but besides that, thank u for reading once again. i really loved writing this story and agonizing about what it would be like to be with our dear satoru. he is, without doubt, a character that deserved so much better. but anyway, thank you again!!!! c u at the end of this xx

ੈ ✩‧₊˚

masterlist | buy me coffee☕ | twny masterlist | < back |

CHAPTER 14: you know where to find me & i know where to look

you will not lie and tell yourself that being away from gojo isn’t strange and off-putting, even if you would like to. it’s different when either of you are on a mission, because, theoretically, now you know he’s just on the other side of the wall and you have chosen to not curl up beside him. you have slept alone for a long time, and it had never been an issue until now – there’s no one to be too warm against, no one to hog the sheets, no one to chew on your hair dreaming of something sweet.

the stockholm syndrome really got you, huh?

still, you sleep well. there’s enough space and you awake refreshed, with no limbs tingly or numb, but a bit lonely. the room is too big, and even if the view behind the curtain is nice enough to snap a picture, it’s not as charming without gojo pointing and saying, “heh, look, a bit more rain and it’s gonna be a landslide,” and you, naturally, nodding along, because he must be right.

you dress and douse yourself in a heavy, heavy cloud of the perfume he got you. gojo insisted on this one because he liked the way it smelled, and you are feeling better today and are willing to hear out another heartfelt apology. you are very nice and very merciful and deserve the very best for your endless efforts to steer this relationship into something at least vaguely harmonious.

maybe you can reconcile during a tasty breakfast with a cappuccino syruped with caramel and the foam resembling a cat. yes, you have put the pieces together – normally, you wouldn’t consider yourself a great strategist, but surprisingly, last night you had ran this situation through your head over and over and over again till every possible scenario and an equally possible outcome was engraved into the squiggly lines of your brain. you have never been more prepared for anything in your entirely life.

“i’ve learned my lesson,” are the very first words you hear when you open the door, met with a head hung low and an unhappy gojo satoru.

alright, this you did not anticipate. he looks a bit miserable. gojo always hated the silent treatment or the ignore policy the most, even when he was harassing you for his personal entertainment, but you didn’t think eight hours apart would make him like this. suppose he might not have slept at all; suppose you did leave on a sour note, a small good night and a strained smile he tried to mimic but failed, waiting till you shut the door before heading to his room.

you wonder how long he’s been antsy behind your door, waiting like a lost pet. you decide to assume he just got here instead of thinking of the more likely scenario that he sensed your cursed energy spike once you rolled out of bed and was at attention ever since.

“that’s nice,” you tell him. a soft kiss to his cheek seals the deal for both of you, and an ache you didn’t realize you were suffering from lifts seeing him instantly brighten.

“you smell nice,” he leans in, happily nosing the side of your neck, “and look nice. super nice. hello.”

“hi, good morning.”

“yes,” a toothy smile, and your fingers twining with his, “great, even, actually. didja miss me?”

you will not lie to yourself, but you will lie to him. you shake your head, as though disappointed by such an unfair and silly line of questioning, “it’s barely been a night. i was relieved, if anything.”

he wrinkles his nose, a look that borders on not so playful if taking in the arctic gleam of his eyes, “not funny,” the comedy will have to wait, it seems, he’s serious, “no jokes about that. or separation. ever. you and i are conjoined twins from now on. we could be permanently glues together by my infinity. now that’s an idea.”

a bit too frankensteinian for you, so you have to pass, “let’s leave the morally questionable experiments to shoko, please.”

“if you insist,”

well, now that the apology is out of the way and the awkwardness is cleared, you are prepared for a feast that he will pay for, “let’s go down to eat?”

if it weren’t for the slight downward twitch of the corners of his lips, you might’ve been fooled that all is fine and dandy. apparently, it is not. hesitation, from him, only comes when he’s preparing for something major and likely emotionally taxing. this, on an empty stomach, will not do, but drawing it out isn’t an option, either.

he squeezes your hand before you can come up with an excuse to avoid breakfast or this conversation, as this isn’t going at all like you have pedantically strung together. another squeeze, and you decide to never plan anything ever again, “…can we order room service instead?” he inquires, and you relax a little, glad you won’t have to have this conversation mid-hallway where any other guest could sneak up, “i, uh,” he won’t meet your eyes, “i’d like to talk a bit. first. if that’s okay?”

your insides are twisting into knots – not from the present anxiety but from the honesty in his quiet voice.

“sure,” you settle.

he nods and takes the lead, hand a little sweaty, face a little flustered – all very out of character, but very sweet. you let him drag you the whole of the next door down and you’re graciously let into the spotless, untouched space he had spent the night in. the curtains are open, the bed is pristine, and gojo is never this clean so it can only mean he hasn’t used it. you glance at him with a wordless question but he’s still avoiding your gaze.

has he really agonized over this the whole night? you have, too, a bit, but seemingly not nearly enough. maybe it’s his first time having a fight with someone; maybe it’s his first time being in the wrong and knowing that he is and actually doing something about it. too many maybes. you think he might be just as confused as you.

once the door is shut, he breathes out. perks up, finally, once you’re safely secured in his perimeter. he gestures toward the expanse of the bed, face morphing back into a rather placid expression that betrays nothing but an odd edge that doesn’t manage to leave his eyes entirely.

“after you,” he announces chivalrously. no ulterior motives there.

“uh-huh,” you sound, toeing the slippers off and climbing in. you scoot back till you’re pressed against the pillows, leaving ample space for him to join. he chooses a spot by your thigh, warmth pickling against your skin, and you really do forgive him, you decide, and you would probably forgive him again even he pulled the same stunt at this very moment. no, that is terrible, how has this idiot managed to ensnare you so completely?

once he’s fidgeted enough, he moves onto his next agenda, “the menu,” he pulls out a booklet from the drawer, placing it on your bent knees like a little gift. this all feels vaguely rehearsed, “pick what you want.”

that was always the intention, but you see that he’s trying very hard to work up the courage to something he wants to say, so maybe some good old fashioned enthusiasm from you will help him relax, “alright,” a hum for added measure, “hmmm…. mhmmm…. ooh, pancakes sound nice. like, maybe a mountain of them.”

“yeah?” his chin finds its usual spot on your shoulder, “pick between the triple and a tower.”

the picture showing off the pancake tower does look very impressive, not to mention delicious. however, you aren’t entirely certain you would finish one, as the heading reads over one meter!, which is simply ridiculous. thankfully, you have a man with a black hole for a stomach right next to you, “i’d like a tower.”

“sure, whatever you want.”

“and a cappuccino,” you’re not skimming out on that, even if it’s unlikely the barista will make you cat-shaped foam. maybe you can press gojo to bully them into doing it, but pressing gojo into anything at this moment would likely lead to another disaster, “with a double shot. possibly triple. how many shots do they do?”

“think one’s plenty enough,” his tongue darts out, wetting his lips. they appear  bit chapped, but nothing you can’t fix, “…can i get a kiss?”

…so much for wanting to talk. this is already familiar. he’s trying to change the subject.

“for good behavior?” you venture coyly, peeling your gaze away from the breakfast details to gauge his expression.

it makes him smile, small and wicked, “yup. best behavior, actually. i said sorry, it counts. right? say yes.”

“mmm,” you manage, thinking up another scheme. you would like to keep this on track. it’s likely he won’t dare to say it again and the implication of it will hang between the two of you until another fight, and another, and it’ll keep stacking up and up and likely higher than the famed pancake tower. his pupils grow larger the longer he waits for your permission. a small sigh, and your nails scratch at the nape, “maybe let’s eat first?”

his gaze flickers for a second, and then he gives you a kind, patient smile, “alright,” because he meant it when he said whatever you want.

“so nice of you,” you praise. his grin shifts. you recognize i – it’s the one he dons when he’s winning.

a quick call to reception, gojo’s back to holding your hand again, softly as not to crowd you. his fingers really are much longer than yours, and he measures them idly, more than used to the sight but still somehow mesmerized by it.

“i don’t like fighting with you,” he starts, voice even, though low, “the rest i don’t really care about, but you,” he tugs on your finger, “you just, doesn’t…” he trails off, confidence shaken by something invisible.

“i don’t like fighting with you either,” you share, hoping it will ease him. it seems to work, but only a little, “it sucks.”

“yeah,” he huffs, “super major sucks,” he draws closer and the mattress shifts. he finds home beside you, head once again nestled into your shoulder, like it’s the safest place on planet earth.

gojo always seeks refuge in physical affection. it’s a way he can express himself without using words. suppose you can pull him into your embrace and calm him like that; suppose he’ll feel a bit braver without your eyes so deeply focused on him, even if there’s always a chance he’ll take the easy way out and refuse to speak at all.

but that’s not what happens, “i just wanted to find a spot where we could watch the stars together.”

“oh,” you utter, unsure what to make of this yet. you are glad he has finally told you, but that still doesn’t explain why he was acting, dare you say, nervous before the argument. there has to be more. there always is, but you will never pry, because it’s painful enough for him already.

“didn’t work out the way i had hoped it would, though,” and now he sounds genuinely sad. a horrible feeling surfaces in you, “but we can still watch them tonight. if you want.”

“i do,” you assure him, “but you have to talk about what’s bothering you. i can’t read your mind.”

“thank god you can’t,” a hollow chuckle follows, “it’s a secret anyway. none of your beeswax.”

impossible, like always, but you wouldn’t really have it any other way. you card your fingers through his hair and he relaxes further, warm breath tickling the side of your neck. a small sigh, this time from him. now that he’s said all that he has wanted to say – which still doesn’t really explain anything, but is more than enough – he can pretend to be an overgrown cat and bask in your affectionate gestures.

it’s going to be okay. you hope he doesn’t see your little smile. lucky.

*

“is this supposed to be a white tiger?” you inquire, holding up a glass phone charm for his inspection. another pale, blue-eyed thing that has caught your fancy. soon, your dorm room will also include a private zoo of all the cute plushies and ornaments you’ve managed to collect with gojo’s money.

“doesn’t have any stripes,” he hums, twisting and turning the vaguely animal-shaped object in his palm. dusk falls on his shoulders, tinting the edges of his hair a soft lilac, “maybe a polar bear?”

suppose it doesn’t really matter, since all charms displayed at this stall look the same, and it surely has nothing to do with the talent of the man that made them. he gazes over them proudly, each sat in a small leather box with a lavish seat, ready to be taken home and hung by the mirror or looped around a cellphone. the monkey ones could maybe resemble monkeys if you squinted and took a lot of creative liberties, and the rest are just shapes with four legs and a snout. oddly cute, in an incompetent, unexplainable way.

“you wanna…?” gojo raises a brow, shades blocking the double-check he no doubt sends you. you nod vigorously.

he has learned his lesson from last time and carries a concerning amount of cash in his wallet. your tiger-bear is placed in its box and then wrapped in a little bow before being hidden in a colorful plastic bag that eventually makes its way to you. you bow in thank you.

the matsuri continues. the winding streets are blocked from traffic yet crowd with too many patrons; gojo pinches your sleeve and tugs when a particularly large wave of people try to separate you. even when they manage, and you’re momentarily disoriented from the sounds and smells and sights, he always manages to spot you first. maybe he just knows where to look.

gojo has changed from his usual garbs into a baby blue yukata. blue really is his color, and he looks so infuriatingly handsome that you have to glare at a sizable amount of people to let them know he is not available to be admired now, or ever, really. you have contemplated buying him a kabuki mask, but even then, his height and broad shoulders – not to mention that unshakable gait and all-over enticing confidence! – would somehow reveal him, and people would still stare or try to grab his attention. perhaps the mystery of the mask would be even more alluring. your hairs stand on end at the thought.

“m?” gojo, never one to miss anything and still latched onto your sleeve, tilts his head, “are you hungry? i sensed murderous intent.”

you hide your lips behind your fan – an expensive trinket gojo insisted to get you since it would match your baby pink yukata. yes, you have come in matching bubble gum ice cream flavors. when your head moves even slightly, the hairpins clink. the sound is light and satisfying, or so he said. you can’t hear it over the noise.

“no, not really,” you say, though the dango stand does look delicious, and the twinkling lights are inviting. your displeased eyes do not leave the group of high school girls donning their flowery yukata and giggling into their kakigori bowls. it is truly a blessing you have been born with a useless amount of cursed energy, because you would definitely use it for evil.

maybe gojo knows, and he graciously steps forward, blocking your sight from the rest of the people. another tug, and you snap into motion.

around you, lanterns sway, alight and warm; they cast low over the sidewalks and shine bright against the cobblestone walkways. in the corners of your vision, the glow swirls into endless rainbow-colored ribbons.

“how good are you at shooting?” he asks.

all dolled up and pretty, you can only clap your lashes  few times at the absurd question, “really well, why?”

“like, a bow or  a gun?”

“does it matter? both require concentration and precision,” you explain, “still, are we planning a heist or something? i don’t have any cursed tools on me,” and while the prospect of danger and adventure is enticing, you really are having fun just being here with him and would rather stay.

“nah, just a bit of friendly competition,” he grins, glasses drooping just enough to catch the mischievous twinkle in his eye, “wanna go against the strongest? you’ll be the only one to that lived to tell the tale.”

wanna do this, wanna do that? want food, a plushie, something absurdly expensive? if you asked for the moon, you wonder if he’d try to retrieve it. perhaps calculate if a missing edge wouldn’t spin the planet out of orbit and bring it back to you as a souvenir.

“i’d like a soda,” you say.

“let’s get you a cola,” he switches directions so quickly you almost collide into an equally mushy couple enjoying their date.

only you and gojo are not a couple, and this is not a date, and each time he recalls an insignificant detail about you and goes out of his way to do something small for you only because he wants to do it, it becomes harder and harder to remember the fact. pretending is awful, and it burns strangely acidic in the back of your throat. but it’s so warm, too, and you want to cling to his arm and press your cheek against his yukata. hide there, in his sleeve, like he always does in the crook of your neck.

gojo wouldn’t mind. once he gets you your tasty drink, you paint a kiss mark on his cheekbone with your lips. it’s faint and pink, glossy against the rose that steadily rises onto his face, and he doesn’t wipe it off, only smiles sheepishly.

eventually, you make it to the shooting range. it’s a large stall decorated with sea creatures and varying shades of purple and blue. you’re handed a large water gun and told to hold till the targets – large jellyfish – fall over, officially earning you a point. depending on the amount of points one receives, one might win a prize, or so the man in a pirate costume explained.

“ready?” gojo asks, fixing his glasses. you’re not sure how serious you should take this. your pride may be on the line, but this game is likely extremely rigged. he’s already the strongest, and whatever he’d receive from the pirate would ultimately make it into your hold without you having to steal or resort to anything desperate, like politely asking.

still, you are a sorcerer. if a friend and colleague is requesting, you must put on a brave front. it is the morally righteous thing to do, after all.

you put your hand on your hip and nod.

the game begins. three seconds into it you realize that the water stream is much too weak for you to successfully take down a significant number in the modest time allocated for this quest. still, you keep going, and several jellyfish fall by your skillful hand and steadfast accuracy.

no matter the physical differences or innate abilities, there should not be a lead in this competition, and if there were to be one, it would be you and your clear head compared to gojo’s impatience and petulant whining. as a matter of fact, he is not whining, nor is he sulking in defeat or trying to sabotage your chances.

he is barely containing his cackle over tightly pressed lips and quivering shoulders, his grip on the plastic so tight the bright red grip cracks a little.

the jellyfish stood in his path to victory keep falling one by one so quickly you take a second glance to ensure he’s not using an actual gun to knock them over. cursed energy permeates in the air like static after a storm, and you sigh, lowering your water gun before the timer’s up.

he's cheating. somehow you didn’t expect this, even if it was obvious from the start. should you scold him and be disappointed, thus ruining the fun for everyone out of principle?

you feel like he’s been through enough. even a fake argument would leave him discontent, and you even more so. besides, you doubt either of you would have won even the most useless trinket if you played fair and square. this you judge from the absolutely aghast expression of the stall’s owner, who might snap his neck at any moment if he keeps swinging it from jellyfish to gojo and back.

the bells chime. the game ends. with trembling hands, the pirate picks up the stuffed animal gojo pointed at and hands it over.

 “there you go,” gojo thrusts the penguin in your arms, and you take it, all fluff and cold seams, “for you.”

“okay,” you concede, cradling the stupid looking bird. it's cute.

you do not miss the owner checking gojo's gun for a malfunction. he does not miss the sly look you send his way before departing.

“where to next?” you can't wait. you have had fizzy drinks, munched on so many yakitori skewers you've lost count, watched a truly horrendous standup comedian and stayed till the end of the performance out of pity, and exchanged three handmade charms for a total of two plushies. your penguin will be named yukihira because that was the name of gojo's pet koi fish.

pet, as in it was in the pond, and gojo liked looking at it the most, hence he named it. there were no pets allowed in the gojo household, or any fun, for that matter. you didn't understand, not entirely, but you wanted to. a lackluster childhood burdened with responsibility so vast and complex it's hardly comprehensible. he wouldn't elaborate further, simply bury his face into the bend of your neck and kiss until the memory had finally, and perfectly, faded from your mind, and you could breathe just a bit easier.

“to sit,” gojo says, indicating the lone bench beneath the awning across the stall, “exhausted. gotta recharge for the next conquest.”

“how dramatic,” you comment, but take his extended arm and accompany him.

together, you remain unbothered, a tiny island amidst a current of shifting yukata, cork shoes, and the occasional colorful sandal. fireflies wink around, chasing each other like sparklers.

gojo fishes out his phone and clicks his tongue, reading the message you know is there. most likely another important thing to deal with. you wish he wouldn't have to worry about anything ever again, but that sounds ridiculous even to you.

“what's up?” you lean your shoulder on his. the penguin sits on your lap, quietly reflecting your somber gaze. it's round, black eyes are welcoming, so you poke its nose.

“nothing,” he decides, waving the thought away, “it can wait, probably.”

you make a face, “that doesn't sound very assuring.”

“unlike some, i have a healthy respect for privacy,” he grins, not taking his eyes off the device even when his tone softens considerably, “i won't interrogate you if you don't want me to. so the same goes for me.”

you snort. that's a lie if you've ever heard one, because he has never shied away of reading your messages along with you or providing helpful responses. still, you won't push. you trust him. if he says it's nothing, it means it's nothing.

a short silence settles. the air feels balmy, and a phantom wind circles you. one of the lanterns has blown out, and a little trail of smoke floats to the sky.

“huh,” you blink, the information suddenly resurfacing in your brain, “the sister event is next week.”

“ugh,” he shoves his phone back into his pocket only so he could rub the disgust off of his face, “don't remind me.”

you grin, “heh, how come? we can just send you alone. we'll win anyway.”

“always gotta do all the work,” he groans, then leans his head back, fixing you with a knowing look from the corner of his eye, “aren't you going to hold my hand?”

“want me to?”

his throat bobs, the simple question alone making his breath stumble as if he was walking down a dark alley, and hearing your voice had given him goosebumps. his voice is steady when he answers, “yeah.”

with one arm securing your precious yukihara, you reach over and take his hand. his larger fingers slide over yours, catching.

“so spoiled,” you tease. he lifts your hand to press his lips to your skin. now it's your heart's turn to waver. his eyes are crinkled happily, the crescent of his smile lighting up in the growing shadows. there's something playful hiding there, too, something secretive that he wouldn't share until he was sure you'd like it, and that patience of his, newfound and endearing, spreads like sweet nectar down your throat and bubbles a giggle.

“yep,” he agrees, so delighted his nose scrunches adorably.

you could stay like this forever, watching and enjoying the thrum and beat of a summer festival. the atmosphere, the laughter and tittering, the low chatter as people find their way from one thing to another. live in this moment, like a firefly caught in a glass jar.

at one point, gojo's cheek rests on your head, and you soak in the warmth. perhaps this is his favorite part. the glow of the lanterns is just the right side of orange and highlights the angles and divots of his face, while his other hand stays coiled around yours, and his thumb rubs small, soothing patterns into your knuckles.

“let's sit it out.”

“hm?”

“the sister exchange event. haibara-kun, nanami-kun, and suguru can participate for us,” you tell him, “we could hide in the clinic with shoko.”

he pulls back from his position, but only so he could survey you properly. his stare is less calculating than it is contemplative. behind his glasses, his eyes are burning quietly. at times, there's something almost solemn glazing over his expression, softening the sharp lines and allowing his features to relax. it makes him seem so much more mature and so unlike himself that you never know how to react.

“can't,” he says with a small sigh, finally coming to stand. he pulls on your hand and you scramble, grappling to keep yukihara from falling along with all of your things, “yaga would definitely beat my ass if i ever tried pulling something. but that doesn't mean i don't want to,” his smile widens, “thank you for the offer, though.”

“wow, a sincere and gracious rejection. thanks, satoru.”

“anytime,” he winks. you flick his forehead.

no pouting this time, though, no furrowed brows or crossed arms. instead, he bites his lower lip and seems to be wrestling with himself not to jump you. he is behaving extremely well by comparison, his touches never bordering on anything even remotely inappropriate for a public settling.

you appreciate the consideration. even despite the crowded space, he is focused solely on you, his finger grazing along your palm, tickling your wrist. if you smile any wider, your cheeks will start hurting. and if he continues looking at you like that over the rim of his sunglasses, your heart will start hurting instead.

“should we head to ashinoko?” you ask, keeping yukihara close, “or will there be too many people there?”

“probably, but it doesn't matter,” he reassures, “we'll find a spot. worst case scenario i'll let you sit on me. my shoulders, to be exact.”

how would you explain the sudden rush of blood to your head? “that won't be necessary...”

“why not? can't get much of a better view. and you get to play with my hair, too,” he tacks on, “or maybe i could hold your legs and give your-”

you take back everything you thought of good behavior and growth as a person, he is nothing but a lewd pest wanting to embarrass you in the middle of a romantic setting, the absolute traitor, and you have half a mind to stomp him to death right then and there. all the private tutors in the world couldn't teach him manners, and no stifling house rules could condition him out of his shit eating grin.

he is terrible, and you like him still, more and more each day. even now, when he looks on the verge of laughing, so pleased to have flustered you, while you try and fail not to panic.

“kidding,” he assures, “mostly. i would, if you asked.”

“satoru, pl-”

“wouldn't even question it.”

“sa-”

“got a list of places i could put my mouth. just say the word.”

you've lost. completely and irrecoverably. your shoulders slump, too tired to continue picking the pieces of your shattered dignity, “yes, yes, i get it. please stop talking.”

he shrugs, unbearably nonchalant considering he basically propositioned to make you cum between fireworks displays, “if you insist.”

unruffled by any objections, like he'd simply whisk you away to somewhere secluded should you demand him to, and it would be so easy. like he's itching for a chance, a sign, a simple smile. like he'd drop to his knees if you only said yes. you're almost appalled by his shamelessness, yet that, unfortunately, is part of his charm as well.

still, what a tease. you wish yukihara wouldn't have to hear such things. your dear penguin doesn't deserve to experience such trauma so early into your care. you are so very sorry.

“then...” you steer the topic back to where it's mostly harmless, not counting his smug look that would haunt you till the end of days, “let's go?”

“okie-dokie.”

you fall back into the crowd and lose all traces of rhythm. children push past you, twittering and shrieking, with their chaperones stumbling after them and rapidly bowing apologies left and right. the ground is smooth beneath your feet, stone flattened in ages by carts and soles alike. the two of you branch off and enter a lesser known forest path to avoid the onslaught of people rushing to see the performance at the hakone shrine before the fireworks.

the change in scenery is instantaneous. the suffocating density of bodies disappears, as well as the oppressive humidity. it's darker without the fairy lights and lampposts, the cicadas overlapping everything else. the air smells like fern, cut grass, and wet tree bark, oddly fresh and cool closer to the lake.

gojo stores his sunglasses into a discreet inner pocket. his eyes glint under a stretch of tree shadow, emitting a faint bluish glow, not bright enough to lighten his features yet remaining ever present. ever so beautiful. the woods seem to sigh around you, branches fluttering nervously above as he leans in, almost a specter.

“what's wrong?” your question brushes against the fringes of his hair.

“you're looking at me funny.”

“i am? sorry.”

“like you have so much you want to say.”

“oh,” you blink, then stare down at your shoes. a fallen maple leaf rustles when you step on it, giving a dry crunch, “not really.”

“yeah, well,” he scratches his cheek, “me too, kinda.”

a soft smile, this time, something private and indulging.

for a while you don't speak, not because you can't think of anything to say, but rather can't choose the right words. none of them seem enough, too sweet or too plain. the small trek through the damp forest path leaves your shoes a bit muddy and the hems of your yukata covered in dry flakes and pine needles, most having already blown away.

you hear it first – the deep, thunderous sounds of drums coming from the direction of the shrine. then, ways down the twisting tree line, you spot dancing lights. closer and closer, and the sounds become powerful enough to shake you, vibrating through the ground up to your legs. you hold on just a bit tighter, and gojo returns the gesture firmly.

he is quiet. his head is bowed, gaze focused ahead and somewhere else at the same time, like he's thinking about other things, which, knowing him, can be anything. he leads you off the path and you follow, passing between the foliage and low hanging branches. the weather grows colder. you're approaching the shore.

finally, the landscape clears. a thin border of black pines separates water from earth. wisteria vines drape over the whole scene like curtains on windows, billowing gently. the noise of the show is still loud and beats to the drum of your heart, each thud somehow too close and too obvious. from here, you can see the massive red torii gate stood in the shallows.

the water sloshes by your feet, and the sandy soil squishes pleasantly. far and wide, there are others waiting, too, all finding their own spots amongst the reeds and gravel. a few lanterns float in the moonlit surface of lake ashinoko, bright and orange, like the ones in the market district, and you watch, captivated, as their reflections spill over the shifting water. the chimes wind up to a symphony. it's beautiful.

gojo tilts his head to you, and his lips move, but you can't hear what he's saying.

“what?” you call, ticking a waiting ear in his direction.

the boom cuts through everything, the flash of gold drowning out his face, and you realize way too late what's happening. the crackle continues, and the air trembles, releasing another burst of fireworks. the light leaves fractals dancing over him, each one landing just so, as if aimed, cascading over his eyelashes.

he repeats the words, and something about his expression makes your heart stutter: longing and apprehension quickly replaced with shyness, almost endearing as he watches you expectantly. the sky glitters around, awash in blues and greens and whites, brilliant enough to blind. you can't look away from him.

he says it again, and again, and again, and you can't read the shape of his mouth because you're too afraid of what you will find there. the drums, the cheers, the changing lights, the words airy against your lips. he kisses you. you understand the phrase now, or you hope that you do, so you tell it back, quietly, so he couldn't hear you either:

“i like you.”

your hand finds purchase on the fabric at his chest. it's tight, and his grip is strong, cradling you with such care you can't help but shiver. each kiss is like that, little sips of air, barely enough to sustain either of you, and then he holds you and you let him, boneless, allowing yourself melt into the sure, enveloping warmth.

the light is dying, and you're dizzy. yukihara sits as a witness between your pounding hearts.

eventually, the display fades away into starlight. you want to say it again, but neither of you are brave enough to do it.

*

gojo: just waved nanamin and haibara bye bye on their mission 4:56pm

gojo: can’t believe you all left me w ijichi ( ⩌'︿'⩌) 4:57pm

you: where’s shoko? 4:57pm

gojo: clinic like a loser i dont wanna go down there lol might catch smth 4:59pm

gojo: when are u coming back 5:00pm

you: i just got here (˶˃⤙˂˶) but probably in a few hours, i won’t stay overnight 5:01pm

gojo: yeah u wont the hell 5:02pm

gojo: my girl gotta get back to me asap ദ്ദി(˵ •̀ ᴗ - ˵ ) ✧waiting impatinetlyyyyyyy 5:03pm

you: omg lol just bumped into some salaryman and he almost knocked me over. i think he was frightened of my poorly concealed weapon and apologized heh 5:05pm

gojo: where is he? give him ur phone i wanna talk 5:05pm

you: he left already, it’s ok 5:05pm

gojo: teleporting rn 5:06pm

you: ? you can’t do long distances stupid 5:06pm

gojo: yeah and he better be grateful that i cant 5:07pm

gojo: r u done yet want u home 5:41pm

gojo: hello? no ‘yes my gorgeous blue eyed king'? rude 5:42pm

gojo: ok it has been an hour im gonna be serious, did you meet another boy or something? cant wait to murder him 6:33pm

gojo: dont tell me you got kidnapped. i will purple the planet 7:01pm

gojo: 10 mins until i start ripping at the seams and go psycho and rip the roof off the entire city. call me rn, and then, when youre done, i'm stealing you away for a month 7:15pm

gojo: ok in a bad mood now 7:46pm

gojo: we’re talking cthulu levels of bad 8:00pm

gojo: would it be dramatic if i were to jump over a cliff 8:10pm

gojo: hi this is principal yaga gojo has jumped to his death please text back and list everything you love and find sexy about him 8:12pm

gojo: ok ur freaking me the fuck out im coming to get u u can cry abt it later and yaga can scream and shit all he wants grade 3s shouldn’t take this long 8:25pm

gojo: gonna text u till you respond, u know that, right? 2:00am

*

MISSION REPORT: 15.08.2009

LEAD ASSIGNED OFFICIAL: YAGA MASAMICHI, 1ST GRADE

SORCERER: KAWAKAMI Y/N, 1ST GRADE

PROBLEM DESCRIPTIONS: 3RD CLASS CURSE CONFIRMED DISPELLING PROCESS (UNKNOWN – FIRST RESPONSE TEAMS)

REPORT REGARDING JOB ACCOMPLISHED: KAWAKAMI LOCATED CURSE SITE (CHICHIBU STATION UNDERGROUND) – SCAN FOR TARGET, CRITICAL INJURY; CURSED INHERITANCE-TYPE SPECIAL GRADE – ATTEMPT AT SEALING PROCESS FAILED, DISEASED APPENDAGES, LIMBS & 80% NECROTISED FLESH - UNKNOWN ANGULATION - TIME OF DEATH, 15.08.2009. 5.13PM.

CURSE CONFIRMED DESTROYED: 15.08.2009, 9.59PM, GOJO SATORU.

DEATH REPORTED: 15.08.2009, 11.03PM, GOJO SATORU. BODY RETRIEVED: 12.15AM, MEDICAL TEAM. FINAL EXAMINATION: 2:02AM, IEIRI SHOKO.

ACCELERATED FUNERAL CEREMONY IN EFFECT AS NEXT OF KIN; NONE.

JOB SOLVED: GOJO SATORU.

MISSION REPORT SUBMITTED: NANAMI KENTO, 18.08.2009.

CLOSED.

author's note:

1) so sorry it was planned from the start 2) i do wonder how long satoru would have really sat there in the ground levels of a train station when the fight was over. he did for an hour, but if he had the time, he would likely have spent more time saying goodbye 3) now u know why the cover image of the masterlist is the specific one where gojo wakes up w tears from a dream he had about his school days

before you lynch me, the technique of our dear reader really was in her lastname - kawakami. i'm a big fan of junji ito, and since there's already a ref in jjk of his manga (uzumaki), i though "huh, it would be sooo cool if the mc had a power like tomie!!!" so i wrote this. i wrote a lot of versions, some were a bit scary, so i scrapped them. tomie kawakami's power is essentially being able to clone and heal herself from a single strand of dna, along with a bunch of disturbing stuff, but that's one of the main components of her power.

so here, i present to you an endless amount of endings (2): a) reader has really died, getou has defected, more nice trauma b) reader has not died and returns at any point after the report is submitted, as per her cool powers. getou still defects im sorry some things are doomed by the narrative

either way, u can't get over something like this. megumi? satoru? suguru? shoko? they could never heal from this, no matter if reader came back or not xx

next time i promise to write something where no one dies and there is a happy ending. but for now, that's all, folks! i love u even tho u probably hate me. that's ok. i, too, am gracious and merciful.

tags (couldn't tag in bold!). @shokosbunny , @jotarohat , @fortunatelyfurrygiver , @alygator77 , @finnydraws , @mastermasterlist1p1 , @eolivy , @letsmyy , @staruus , @k0z3me , @damnshorty , @kaeyakaikai , @n4melesspers0n , @midnightwriter21 , @sillymercury , @byakuya61085 , @stillnotherapy , @mydearchoso , @plutoisaghoul , @byerno6 , @bqvz , @harryzcherry , @noira-l , @your-sleeparalysisdem0n , @satoryaa , @cccandynecklaces , @stuffeddeer , @cherriee-ee , @ducky1232

[qtboni]

╰﹒ 𝐋𝐎𝐕𝐄 𝐋𝐀𝐍𝐆𝐔𝐀𝐆𝐄 !

PAIRING: Simon 'Ghost' Riley X Reader

OVERVIEW: Despite Simon's difficulty in expressing his emotions, he still finds ways to show his love for you.

C/W: Entirely fluff + kisses, don't worry.

W/C: 1.3k bubs

Little gestures demonstrate Simon's deep affection for you.

So it's not unusual for you to find a steaming hot coffee sitting on top of your desk, with a sticky note on it, greeting you a nice 'Have A Great Day,' and an affirming 'I Love You.' message at the end.

This small but meaningful gesture of affection is one of the many ways Simon shows you how much he cares, even when he struggles to express his emotions verbally. It's a small but powerful reminder that you matter to him and that he's always thinking of you, even while pursuing his calling as a soldier, as a lieutenant.

Regardless of the day or circumstances, you can always count on this tiny but thoughtful act of kindness from Simon.

You set the coffee cup down, feeling warm and cared for by the lovely gesture. And as you start your day, you can't help but feel grateful for his presence in your life. Even when he's not physically present, you know that his love is always with you, and that's more than enough.

So you smile, take a deep breath, and start your day with a clear mind and a full heart, knowing that you're one of the lucky ones who has a partner that cares so deeply.

You have Simon, and that's more than just a sticky note with a sweet message - that's true love, and it's something you cherish every day.

As you take another sip of the coffee, you look up and see Simon standing in the doorway, a sheepish look on his face. "Hey," he whispered.

Today was one of the days when Simon got to escape the monotony of daily military duties and just relax at home with you. He had traded in his usual military fatigues for a cozy black t-shirt and sweatpants, giving him a chance to take it easy. He even left his famous skull mask and balaclava behind, a sign of just how much he trusted you as his significant other.

Instead of the formidable Lt. Simon "Ghost" Riley, the fearless soldier, here you saw a soft-spoken Simon, your Simon, who had let down his guards and chosen to be vulnerable with you. It was a moment of pure intimacy between the two of you, a precious break from the chaos of the world outside.

"How's the coffee?" He continued, his voice tinged with hesitation. "Is it to your liking?"

"Of course it is," you reply, smiling at him. "I always appreciate it when you take the time to do something like this for me."

It's a small thing, but it means a lot.

Simon's face lights up as you speak, and he takes a step forward, reaching for your hand. You can see the love in his eyes, even though he isn't always the best at showing it with words. "I'm glad you like it," he says, giving your hand a gentle squeeze.

You feel your heart swelling with emotion, and you lean forward to give him a kiss. "I love you, Si'," you whisper. "And I appreciate everything you do for me. Thank you."

With a smile on his face, Simon leans into the kiss, wrapping his arms around your waist and holding you close. You both savor the moment, savoring the warmth of the coffee, the love that you share, and the comfort of each other's arms.

As you slowly pull away, Simon looks into your eyes, his expression softer and more open than usual. You can see the gratitude and affection in his eyes, and you feel a warmth in your chest that you've never felt before.

"I love you too," he says, his voice low and earnest. "I don't know how I'd get through life without you by my side."

You smile, feeling a swell of love in your heart. Simon takes your hand and gives it a gentle squeeze, and for a moment, you both just stand there, basking in the warmth of each other's presence.

It's a small moment, but to you, it's everything.

After sharing another smile, Simon goes back to the kitchen to pour himself a cup of coffee as well. The sound of the refrigerator opening and closing fills the room as he takes out the creamer.

"Sugar?" Simon asks with a grin, gesturing towards the sugar jar.

"Yeah, just a pinch," you reply with a smile.

Simon adds a little bit of sugar to your cup and then to his. As the steam rises from the hot coffee, Simon takes a sip from his cup and lets out a satisfied groan.

"Ah, that hits the spot!" he says with a smile.

You also take a sip of your coffee and let out a contented sigh. "It's perfect, as always," you say, looking up at Simon.

"Thanks," he replies, smiling back at you. "I just wanted to show you a little extra affection this morning." He shyly averts his gaze from yours, blushing as he do so.

"Well, it definitely wasn't necessary, since you always make me feel loved and appreciated," you say with a smile. "But it was still a really sweet gesture, means a lot to me."

Simon nods and takes another sip of his coffee, seemingly lost in thought. "I just... I know that I'm not always the best at showing you how much I love you with words," he says after a few moments. "So I wanted to do something to make sure you know that I care."

"Simon," you say, putting your cup down on the table. You walked up to where he was standing and cupped his face gently, caressing as you do so. "You don't need to worry about that. I know that you love me. And as much as I love those little notes and gestures, it's the everyday things that you do that show how much you care. Like making me coffee in the morning... you're always there for me, no matter what. And that means more to me than anything else in the world."

Simon looks at you with a soft smile on his face, his eyes shining with adoration. And for a moment, you both just sit there in silence, basking in the comfort and warmth of each other's presence.

Simon takes a deep breath, feeling the warmth from your hands and the love in your words. He looks into your eyes and sees the love and gratitude that you have for him. It makes him feel like the luckiest man in the world, to have someone like you by his side.

"You're everything to me, you know that?" Simon leans in and gives you a gentle kiss on your forehead. It's a soft, sweet kiss, filled with all the love and affection he has in his heart. In that moment, you both know that you're exactly where you're supposed to be.

With a soft smile on your face, you lean back, feeling the warmth from the coffee cup in your hands and the warmth from Simon's love in your heart. It's a moment of pure contentment, a reminder of just how fortunate you are to have each other.

You pecked his cheeks so softly, and Simon can't help but feel a sense of warmth and comfort wash over him. Your kind words fill his heart with joy and he appreciates the love and support you provide him on a daily basis.

He knows that he doesn't always show it, but being able to show himself in this vulnerable state makes him realize just how lucky he is to have you in his life.

You make him feel safe, loved, and appreciated, and he is so grateful for it. You are his everything, and he can’t imagine living his life without you. "Thank you for being my person, my love. I love you."

A/N: Here is my take on a cod character! I know it's not the best and I might've made simon kinda ooc, but I just couldn't help but to have a softy Simon Riley today ><

[the-moon-lullaby]

Can you write the boys taking care of you when you're sick headcanons ty

How the HSL Boys Take Care of Candy When She’s Sick

N/A : I am literally digging into my computer for these ones. Turns out I had some requests already written (or almost) but never posted them. So there it is (better late than never I suppose)

Armin

He panics at first. « Wait, you’re actually sick? Like… for real? » He pokes her forehead and gasps « Oh shit, you’re burning up! Babe, don’t die on me! »

Absolutely Googles symptoms and then proceed to immediately spiral into worst-case scenarios « What if this is cancer ? Or the beginning of a zombie apocalypse??? » 

Ends up getting a ridiculous amount of medicine (and most are useless but we appreciate the gesture)  and snacks (most of which she doesn’t even need).

Forces her to stay in bed while he attempts to make (more like reheat) soup. It’s… not great (but the effort is appreciated once again)

Cuddles up next to her despite the risk of getting sick himself. « If I die, at least it’ll be with you. » (dramatic enough)

Plays video games with her if she’s up for it or puts on a marathon of their favorite shows. « Laughter is the best medicine as they say ! …Except for actual medicine. Take that too. »

Dramatically wipes her forehead with a cool cloth like he’s in a medical drama saying stuff like « Stay with me, Candy! » (Alexy definitely made him watch Grey’s Anatomy with him)

Ends up getting sick himself. Complains way more than she did.

Castiel

Sighs dramatically when he sees her curled up in bed after two days of missing school. « Great. You’re dying. What am I supposed to do with you now? »

He acts like it’s a huge inconvenience, but he takes care of her better than anyone.

Texts her to drink the soup her mom made. Might even comes to supervise if she insists that doesn’t feel like it. « You’re not starving on my watch. »

Let her stay at his place. Which is big for him. 

Grumbles about germs but stays with her anyway. Runs his fingers through her hair when she falls asleep.

Keeps her warm with one of his hoodies and grumbles when she calls him sweet. « Shut up and drink your tea. »

Glares at the medicine bottles like they're a personal offense to him before making sure she takes them at the right time.

Plays his guitar softly while she rests (but never admits he’s doing it to comfort her).

The second she starts feeling better, he teases her. « See? You survived. Now get up before I have to start charging you rent for lying around all day. »

Lysander 

Notices she’s sick before she even tells him. « Your voice sounds different. Are you feeling alright? »

Reads up on natural remedies and brews her a custom tea blend to soothe her throat (go farm boy even though this choice of scenario still isn't my favourite)

Wraps her in the softest blankets and insists that she rests. « Your body needs time to heal. Let me take care of you. »

Writes little notes and poems to cheer her up. Leaves them on her nightstand with a cup of tea. ahhhhh

Sings to her in a low, soothing voice when she’s too restless to sleep.

Buy her fresh flowers to brighten her mood. Or something cheerful. Chocolate maybe (but again he might not because chocolate isn’t the best thing to eat when you’re sick. Unfortunately)

If she feels self-conscious about looking a mess, he reassures her. « You’re beautiful even now, love. »

Stays by her side without hesitation. If she tells him he might get sick, he just smiles. « Then I suppose you’ll have to take care of me next »

This man has been husband material since day one like even when it’s HSL headcanons, I feel like writing about a married couple

Kentin 

The moment she sneezes, he’s already got medicine, vitamins, and a humidifier ready to go (even if it's a bit of an overkill)

Checks her temperature constantly. « Okay, you’re at 38°C. That’s fine. But if it goes up, we’re going to the doctor. »

Bring her homemade chicken soup his mom helped him to make (Kentin is a mama’s boy through and through and he definitely asked her how to take care of someone who’s sick), watching to make sure she eats enough.

Tucks her into bed like a she’s made of glass, fluffing pillows and adjusting blankets. « You need to rest properly. »

Is very serious about hydration. There is always a glass of water beside her.

Checks on her in the middle of the night, making sure she’s comfortable.

Kisses her forehead but immediately wipes his lips after lmao. « I love you, but I really don’t want to catch this. »

Nathaniel 

Immediately takes control of the situation. « Okay. Bed. Now. » okayyy sir

He’s practical about it : makes a schedule for medicine, ensures she’s eating well, and keeps things tidy so she doesn’t feel uncomfortable.

But he’s also gentle, running his fingers through her hair while she rests, pressing soft kisses to her temple.

Brings her fresh fruit and herbal teas to help her recover.

Reads to her when she’s too tired to focus on anything.

Tries to do his schoolwork (and perhaps even hers even if he doesn't tell her) while watching over her but gets distracted checking on her every five minutes.

If she protests about being treated like a child, he just raises an eyebrow. « Just let me take care of you, Candy. »

Absolutely the type to call the doctor if her fever gets too high because it’s better to be safe.

When she starts feeling better, he teases her lightly. « Back from the dead, I see. » But he’s secretly relieved.

This one is for shit and giggles mostly. When I wrote these I always find it hard to make it make sense because they're in high school, how can they take care of Candy since she lives with her parents (like mine would just put me to bed, feed me soup while I was pretending to be a victorian child dying of the pox). But for the request's sake, let's overlook that. Hope you like it my dears and see you soon !

(sooner that you might expect since once I am done editing my drafts, I might go on a posting-spree before I forget again and leave them behind for another year)

[galspolicev]

Jude bellingham nsfw alphabet

★ JUDE BELLINGHAM NSFW ALPHABET

SENSUALIDAD . . . no traigas paraguas, como quiera, va’ a mojarte. La temperatura está pa’ calentarte

chapter: fem!reader x jude bellingham

warnings: smut.

note: i really speak spanish, so any mistake is translation

☆ — reqs opeeenn <3

A = Aftercare

Jude helps you clean up and then joins you in the shower. He’s pretty affectionate after sex.

B = Body Part

Your ass. He grabs it, controls it, marks it. Loves watching it bounce when he takes you from behind.

C = Cum

He loves cumming in your mouth. Loves the way you look at him while you swallow. But when he’s really loaded, he finishes on your stomach and enjoys spreading it around with his fingers.

D = Dirty Secret

He’s touched himself while listening to your voice notes. He saved one where you moaned his name. Keeps it as a personal treasure.

E = Experience

Not an expert, but he’s got great instincts. And with you, he’s addicted to learning everything that drives you insane.

F = Favorite Position

You on your stomach, face buried in the pillow, legs barely open. Half asleep, body still heavy from your last orgasm or from the middle of the night. That’s how he likes you. Soft, surrendered, too weak to think or move—just to feel. He loves getting behind you, lifting your hips slightly with his big hands, and sliding in slowly. He feels every inch of you taking him in—warm, wet, perfect. And in that moment, when you’re like that—whimpering against the sheets, moaning unconsciously—he’s convinced there’s no place more his than your body.

G = Goofy

He laughs when your leg twitches after you cum. But he can switch into serious mode in two seconds if you give him a certain look.

H = Hair

He doesn’t shave often, but if you ask, he will.

I = Intimacy

He can fuck you hard. Grip your waist, pound into you with fury, lose himself in the rhythm. But if you grab his face and say “look at me while you do it,” he melts. The hardness in his features softens, his mouth relaxes, his eyes shine. He’ll stroke your cheek with his knuckles and go slow—like he wants to memorize every reaction you give. He’s totally in love, whispering things while he’s deep inside.

J = Jack Off

Only when he’s away. He records himself for you, whispering “this is what’s waiting for you when I get back.”

K = Kink

He loves dominating you with his voice. Telling you what to do, how to move, what to say. And if you act disobedient… it’ll only get rougher.

L = Location

Restaurant bathroom, hotel hallway, backseat of a car. If you tease him, he’s not waiting.

M = Motivation

Your shorts, the way you spread your legs without realizing it, your voice when you say “come here.” Any excuse is enough to fuck you like never before.

N = Nicknames

“My girl,” “pretty,” “dirty girl.”

And when he’s really turned on, really deep, really lost in you, he starts mixing English and Spanish without noticing. You’ll hear him say things like “eres muy guapa.”

O = Oral

Loves going down on you. Does it like he’s tasting something expensive. He doesn’t stop until you’re shaking.

P = Pace

He controls it perfectly. Sometimes rough and fast, other times painfully slow—just to make you beg.

Q = Quickie

He lives for quickies before a match or right after seeing you in something short.

R = Risk

Risk turns him on. Doing it with the door open, with people nearby, or while you’re on the phone with someone… but most of the time he still prefers it private.

S = Stamina

He’s got more than enough. Can go for over an hour without stopping, and still say “one more.”

T = Toys

He loves using them on you while watching. But he always ends up replacing them with his fingers or his tongue.

He also loves being able to handcuff you to the bed or blindfold you—just so he can do whatever he wants.

U = Unfair

He’ll get you worked up just to ignore you. Touches you over your clothes, kisses your neck, licks you—and then stops, just to see how far you’ll go for him.

V = Volume

Low moans, heavy breathing. When you’re on top, he groans loud and whispers in your ear as he cums—like he needs you to hear your name on his lips.

W = Wild Card

He gets turned on when you record him. Won’t say it out loud at first, but every time you pull out your phone or point the camera at him, his pupils dilate. Loves looking straight into the lens while fucking you, with that half-smirk, like he knows you’ll watch the video later and get wet just remembering.

X = X-ray

Thick and veiny. Not massive, but perfect for you. Sometimes he teases you by just pressing it against your entrance until you beg.

Y = Yearning

When he doesn’t see you for a few days, he gets anxious. Sends you dirty texts, calls you, says “you owe me.”

Z = Zzz

He puts you to sleep on his chest, stroking your back slowly.

all copyrights reserved. © galspolicev

[coralinnii]

Hello! If u dont remember me I'm the person that requested the villainess au Trey x reader from a long time ago, just wanna drop in and say I really look forward to your works and hope you have a great day/night/time! Sorry for bothering you if this message ends up being a bother

‧₊˚✧ Being Reincarnated into a New World as the Bad Guy‧₊˚✧

feat: Trey

genre: slow burn, coworkers-to-something more

note: no pronouns were used for reader, reader is implied to be old enough to work, mentions of poisoning and assassination attempts, reader is somewhat emotionally constipated.

extra note: While Trey is not quite in-character as I would like, he is supposed to be younger than his canon version, so I wanted him to be more unsure and inexperienced than his future self.

I did it, I finally got this done. Praise me (don't)

Being Reincarnated as the Bad Guy aka Villain/ess AU masterlist

You don’t get paid enough for this nonsense. No, you seriously don’t.

One minute you were finally getting off a particularly bad shift at work, only to be in this strange world you don’t recognize…as a low-ranking servant to the bloody royal family!

The rules, the standards, the pretentious nobles you have to smile in fear of having your neck sliced…where’s OSHA when you need them?

At least your coworkers were decent and you’re not in charge of anything too major like waiting on the Queen or her son, unlike that young aide-in-training you see running up and down the palace…poor Sir Clover.

Not your problem, though

…Until a couple of greedy noblemen forced a vial of poison into your hands, promising you a grand reward of money and status for your compliance. They wanted you to spike the drink of the crown prince’s closest aide-in-training so they could plant their own men by his side.

With your best service smile on, you handed back the vial back.

“No ❤️”

When they try to threaten you, you kindly remind them that if they plan to drag you in the mud, you’re not above pulling them along with you.

“If I’m going down, I’m dragging everyone with me.”

Once that was over, you wanted to cleanse yourself from this ugly conspiracy. You were way too busy worrying about your own neck, and you assumed that Sir Clover was cautious over his own safety that you, a mere worker bee, have nothing to contribute.

However, you do notice that the young green-haired man seems to prioritize others over himself, and the lights to his room are often still lit until late into the night. An honest young man burdened with responsibilities; his defenses may not always be on guard…

Ugghh, what a pain in the-

“Um, excuse me?” You looked to the tall nobleman trying to capture your attention.

“Yes, Sir Clover?”

“Were you originally scheduled to work today?”

You held your urge to click your tongue. Of course, Trey would be aware of at least who was scheduled to wait on Prince Riddle and him. What an annoyingly conscientious man.

“My colleague was feeling unwell so I offered to take her place for today. I apologize for not informing you beforehand.” You bowed politely which made the bespectacled man a little flustered.

“No, I’m grateful she could take a rest. Thank you for taking up the role but please let us know next time so we can offer some medical help if needed.”

That wouldn’t be necessary, you thought as you nodded regardless. Your coworker wasn’t really sick in any way but she was more than happy to switch schedules with you.

Many of the servants are under the impression that you harbored a crush on the admittedly cute aide-in-training since you were caught glancing at his direction more often than usual. It wouldn't be surprising if your “crush” in question is also aware of the gossip, which leads to his tenseness around you. Be it kindness or hesitance, Sir Clover chose not to reprimand you for doing as you please.

“What a pain, but I guess it works in my favor anyway.”

A knock rang through the room and with Riddle’s permission, an anxious maid came in with a tray carrying a tea set, confusing everyone in the room.

It’s not time for afternoon tea yet.

“What is the meaning of this?” For someone so young, Riddle’s sharp tone ran a deadly chill down everyone’s back. “Afternoon tea is not for another 13 minutes.”

The maid stuttered in fear, the tea set clattering slightly in her hands. “T-The servants thought that His Highness and Sir C-Clover have been working tirelessly today and perhaps some tea could help.”

You had too much of a survival instinct to dare look at the prince but the silence and building heat in the air was evidence enough that the thought was not appreciative.

Trey was quick to clear the tension with an awkward cough and a smile. “Thank you, I could use some.”

At his words, you dutifully proceeded to reach for the set when the maid hastily pulled it away from you.

Strange

“I-I can do it. Please excuse me” Without sparing a glance towards you, the maid quickly set the tray down on a nearby table and worked to pour a cup.

You’ve seen this maid only a few times. She was a new addition to the roster, too new to approach the royal family but here she was. She hadn't even learned how to properly hold the pot which was noticeable to everyone but was ignored (at the behest of Trey’s wordless plea) due to assumed inexperience.

“She’s so nervous but here she is, so adamant about serving some damn tea…”

A suffocating feeling rising in your throat, you watched with trepidation as the maid walked towards Trey while holding the teacup almost too preciously.

“Eek!” The maid shrieked when your hand squeezed her wrist in an unforgiving grip. She turned to question you but your glare kept her silent.

Trey looked at you with confusion, but your attention kept on the shaking maid and the teacup. With your other hand, you reach for your silver brooch given as part of your uniform to symbolize you as a person of the royal family.

The confusion in Trey’s eyes turned to disbelief when he watched your silver brooch become a damning color as you dipped the silver into the tea.

The broken maid would have crumbled completely onto the pristine floor if not for your hand still on her wrist. While she seemed to be a bumbling mess begging for her life, you couldn’t risk her making a run for it.

You don’t get paid enough for this nonsense.

”So, it was a plan to replace me…permanently.”

You stood silently in front of the solemn man in his office. After arresting her, it was easy to extract information from the maid and prince Riddle is gathering evidence for their act of treason, including your own interrogation.

“You are the trusted aide-to-be of the prince that cannot be bribed. You’re considered an obstacle.” You bowed your head. “I apologize for not speaking out sooner but if it were just my words without evidence, I could have my tongue removed for accusing nobility.”

If it was just you, then you wouldn’t be as confident. But to think that those corrupted nobles managed to convince someone else to do their dirty work. They were desperate and now that there was an attempt, the higher authorities have to take action.

“I shouldn’t feel bad for that maid…why should I for the choice she made…” you could still feel the sensation of that woman’s shaking body in the hand that held her. You don’t like it.

“Ha, you really don’t sugarcoat your words.” Trey’s voice pulled you back as he tried to laugh but his young body felt too heavy to put his whole heart into it.

But it’s finally over. The poisoning failed and those stupid noble scums were on Prince Riddle’s hit-list. That feeling of guilt that ate at your heart could finally rest in peace…right?

Even when he was the victim of all this, Trey was still sitting in his office in charge of investigating his own assassination attempt, on top of his usual duties in assisting the Royal family.

“Thank you for your time,” he even dares to smile kindly at you with dark circles under his warm eyes. “If you could, please call over the head staff to plan on interrogating the rest of the servants.”

“No.”

“N-No?”

“I won’t be doing that. I could ask the head staff to leave his schedule open if needed or if he could handle it with the guards since that’s his f*cking job,” You stared right into Trey’s eyes which widened in surprise. “For now, I humbly suggest Sir Clover to take a rest in his room or to work on something other than your assassination case.”

You didn’t wait for your stunned employer to reply as you bowed politely once more. “If there is nothing else, I shall take my leave.”

You moved away, making your way to the door before pausing. You glanced back at the young man in such a large office and your consciousness felt heavy. Your body was physically no older than Trey or Riddle but the weight on their shoulders was immeasurable, too much for either of them to handle on their own.

“Sir Clover,” you refused to look him in the eyes, “if you ever need anything…I’m willing to assist however I can.”

Immediately regretting your embarrassing words, you quickly added “but during work hours only!” before hastily leaving the office.

A shame really, since you missed the way Trey let out a genuine laugh after so long.

[antennaed-kenzy]

Waiting [Michael Kaiser]

❄ Michael Kaiser x f! reader

❄ notes: not proofread,

❄ Day twelve of the Christmas Series.

❄ Extras: Work count 1.6k words The last day of the twelve days of Christmas, along with it being his birthday! Masterlist of series

Being the best can be a burden to carry for some people.

Being the best in the world can be a burden to carry, not being able to see the people you love all the time. Along with a swarm of people wanting to talk to you and take a picture of your face. The paparazzi being around wherever you go. Traveling from place to place and not always seeing what you want to see. Not everyone can simply be the best in the world. 

“I miss you, {Y/n}.” A lousy pouty voice spoke through the phone. 

The female chuckled sweetly hearing him speak in such a low tone no one else in the world could hear. “I miss you the most, Michael.” {Y/n} set her phone on her vanity, making sure her face was in the frame. 

Kaiser flashed a smile her way, making a sweet melody escape her lips. The two lovebirds talked on the phone for a while as the female got ready for the day. Kaiser occasionally mentioned how gorgeous she was in his eyes. As she was getting ready someone called her in the background. 

{Y/n} picked her phone off the vanity saying to Kaiser, “Sorry, I have to go dear. Talk to you when I am done for the day.” 

“Bye, love you, princess.” He kissed hers through the screen. 

Bye, Love you too.” She caught the kiss pushing it against her lips and gave him one in return. 

He hangs up the phone dropping it to his side and looking up at the ceiling. He picked his phone back up to look at the time. His reflection on the screen before turning it back on. Realization set in when realized the next time he was going to see his Fiancée was till Christmas. 

Throwing his phone on the other side of the bed, right where she sleeps. Kaiser's eyes follow the phone as if she were there with him. Finally getting up from the bed he walked into the bathroom He faced the mirror, his blonde hair, the ends decorated in a fading blue. The color left as she wasn’t there to retouch and color it. 

He could ask Ness to recolor his hair, but since {Y/n} touched his hair no one has even been the same. He never wanted anyone else to even touch his hair even if it was grown out and the color was completely gone till she was with him to re-do it. 

The male splashed his face with water, as he lifted his face to look in the mirror he saw her products that were left behind. Waiting for her to arrive back home. Water was dripping from his face, taking a towel to wipe it all. 

A small crowd of people were waiting outside a studio. All of them were in the world of entertainment ranging from actors, stunt double, filmmakers, directors, and so on. Some were yelling while others drank their coffee waiting for the doors to open. It was the last month of shooting and the people wanted to get today done already. 

“Come on!” Someone whined, “I wanna get started.”

{Y/n} and someone else beside her broke through the crowd of workers. She had a megaphone while the plus one was opening the studio. “Time to get to work people. We only have one week left of this movie. Let's make it a great ending!” The crowd of people dispersed as they all went to their respective stops.

{Y/n} was one of the biggest movie directors and Kaiser was on the football prodigies. Both are in completely separate lines of work, yet they fell in love and were soon to be happily married. Though the downsides made it hard for them to sync their schedules together and see each other, they put in the effort toward the relationship; even if it took a while for them to work it out in the beginning. 

For them though, the pros outweigh the cons. When they did see each other it was the best time of their lives as they made the most of it. When they had time, {Y/n} would show up to Kaiser games and practices, and Kaiser would show up to {Y/n} filming and the premieres. 

“Snap out of it,” A co-worker snapped their fingers in the female's face grabbing her back to reality. “Time to get to work, {Y/n}.”

The [h/c]-haired nodded, “Alright, Pae. Let’s get today done.” A smile creeps on her face looking around to see everyone doing what they are paid to do. 

Kaiser had just gotten done with his team's practice. The first thing he does is rush to his phone in the locker room. Turning it on he saw something he hated to see. 

1 missed call from “My Princess<3”

“Why didn’t you pick up the first time?” {Y/n} whined at him, her lips pouty

Without making a mistake he calls back his Fiancée.

*Ring Ring**

“You know I was at practice,” He rolled his blue eyes teasingly. 

“Yeah, whatever. Probably busy with another woman,” She teased throwing him so shade. 

Kaiser looked at her with a straight lip, his eyes rested as he was annoyed at her. “I hate when you do that. You know it’s not true, {Y/n}.”

“I’m kidding.”

The two talk about each other days, complaining about people around them. As Kaiser was taking a shower when he got home, {Y/n} had to point out his blue rose tattoo saying how much she loved it and even missed it more than him at times. He would threaten to remove it to see how she would react, but they both knew that would never happen. 

{Y/n} had fallen asleep and Kaiser was doing work while letting her snores make him calm and collected making him tired. When he was done writing in his journal he got in bed, setting the phone beside him where she would sleep to mimic as if she was there with him. 

“Good night, love,” He whispered in his phone, shutting his eyes for the night. 

Kaiser wanted to see her again, wanted to be with her and hold her again. He didn’t want to wait another hour, but he had to wait for three more days. He has been calling her more recently as football practice was canceled due to the holidays, though he was practicing to wash the time away. 

{Y/n} was waiting at the airport three days early from what she told Ksiser. She wanted to surprise him for the holidays, and his birthday. They had finished the movie a little earlier than expected and she had no reason to be in the States anymore. Especially when someone was waiting for her at home.

Getting on the plane she was off back home in Germany. Kaiser sitting on the couch having no idea who will be in his lap in 9 hours.

“Kaiser!” A familiar female voice rang in his ear. 

He got up from the dinner table as he just ate supper not so long ago. He consciously walked to the front door in case he was hearing things or it was an intruder. When his crystal blue eyes met a familiar pair of [e/c] ones, he ran toward them like they were calling him, waiting for him. 

He lifted the female from the ground, her legs wrapping around his waist pulling him even closer. The touch fills a missing piece. 

“I missed you so so so much!” He gave pepper kisses all over her face. 

“I missed you so so so so much more!” She returned his kisses. 

The two of them hold each other for a while not wanting to let go. They finally were with each other and were going to be with each other for a while. Even if {Y/n} wasn’t busy she would follow her Fiancé to his practices and games, then go to see her movies in theaters if they were still running.

Kaiser finally set her down. “I thought you were supposed to be here on Christmas Eve?”

“Well,” She reached up for his grown-out colorless hair. “I thought you would want to look presentable before Christmas.” She smiled at him, a smile he missed seeing. 

The two of them got to the bathroom. {Y/n} cut and re-dyed his hair along with giving it a trim. He was sitting there looking at her concentrated face amazed by her. He fell in love all over again, his heart fluttered for her even if they had been together for years now and were getting married. 

They took a shower together when she was done with his hair. Helping him wash out his hair and making sure it looked good. After that, she gave him a facial with her products that were left behind. It seemed she had been waiting to give him the princess treatment since she left. They both missed this, Kaiser wanted to marry her now, put a ring on her finger, and be able to announce they were happily married.

Christmas also was Kaiser's birthday. 

“Happy birthday love of my life.” {Y/n} woke up sitting up on the bed. She lifted her leg off the male now on top of him. “Wake up!” Her finger guides over her chest making circles. 

“Merry Christmas, Princess.” she sleepy voiced. 

“But it's also your birthday!” 

She bends down giving him kisses all over his face and neck, peppering him with love. The two of them woke up, presents were around the tree, both for Christmas and his birthday even if he didn’t want to celebrate it. 

{Y/n} makes some breakfast for a while as he opens some presents. When they are done eating breakfast they sit around the tree and open some more. For the best gift, they had to take back to the bedroom to play with some new toys. 

a/n: I wanted this to be longer, but I was pressed against time and really wanted to bring the world some Kaiser love.

[comicaurora]

Out of curiosity, how far ahead are you on the comic? I mean, you must have it all planned and written out, but I imagine that you are drawing the future of Aurora even while we're reading it.

So is Arc 2 already illustrated and ready for upload while you're on like Arc 5 or something? I'm by no means undermining your need for a break; I'm shocked that you've been uploading continuously for over 4 years at this point. I'm just interested to know how long it takes a person to make something this great. And also if you change any details in the final edit?

Basically: what's the workflow like?

Also I think you low-key inspired me to pick up painting as a hobby. I'm ready to pour so much money into creating things that I know I'll hate. :)

God, arc 5? That's a very generous assessment of how fast I can draw!

Typically, when the comic is updating regularly, I keep a buffer of 10 to 20 completed pages. Right now, in the interest of taking a break, the buffer is 0 completed pages.

Chapter 1 of Arc 2 is completely storyboarded, meaning it's sketched out, the dialog is all mostly finalized barring last-minute rephrasements, etc. It can be read in its current form, it just looks unpretty. In fact, just for fun, here's a sneak peek!

In the next month I'll go through and finalize as many pages from this chapter as possible - which means locking down the panel borders, fleshing out the backgrounds, lining, shading, coloring, polish, etc. - which will be the process of building up a new buffer for when the comic starts back up again in January. During that time, I'll also be storyboarding Chapter 2 and as much of the following parts as I can manage.

I have the next several chapters and sub-arcs planned out in loose timelines - event A happens at location B leading to consequences C and D, stuff like that. Chapter 2, being the closest, is a little more fleshed-out, with a more detailed bullet-pointed timeline and various character ideas I've had that might or might not make it into the final version.

What exactly the chapter breakdown is going to look like is a little more complicated. Initially I'd planned for Chapter 1 to be low-stakes downtime and Chapter 2 to quickly kick off the high-octane adventure again, but when I started bullet-pointing out the stuff I wanted to do in Chapter 2, I ended up with a big pile of slower-paced character moments I thought were well worth exploring, so the runtimes might stretch a little.

Translating those brainstormed notes into storyboards and dialog is what I would classify as the "writing" part of this process. It happens at an erratic pace largely determined by the whims of whatever muse decides to get me in a headlock that day; sometimes I go weeks with no storyboarding progress, sometimes I hammer out fifteen pages in one day.

It's kinda like weaving, to me. The soon-to-be-arriving parts of the story are the most finalized, the most densely woven. A little ways beyond that, things get looser - some patterns may be locked down, but the actual work that'll hold it together hasn't been done yet. And in the far-flung future arcs, it's just the basic bones of the story and a pile of the threads I've planned to use. I know the shape of it, but in order for it to be fun and engaging for me to make it, I need to give myself room to be creative when I'm putting the whole thing together.

I actually have a file called the "Toolbox" that contains every random character or subplot idea I've had, and sometimes when I'm debating where to go with a chunk of story, I'll crack it open and scan through to see if anything jumps out begging to be used. Lotta fun stuff in there that may or may not ever see the light of day. Dropping stuff in the Toolbox is one of the most fun and freeing parts of the process for me!

[pookie-mulder]

October 2024 fic roundup

👶☑️ Beginnings by @television-overload

The most perfect follow-up to Of Our Own Making! Seeing m&s fall in love and go on their first date AFTER getting married and having a child together is just precious. (Especially Mulder’s “will u go out with me” note!) I love their unconventional relationship so much.

🐓🍽️ Untitled by @aloysiavirgata

This little fic is hilarious! I love Mulder getting the chance to be subtly petty towards Bill. I also love to see MSR being so domestic and settled down in the unremarkable house.

blue prints by @foxmulders

(Couldn’t find an ao3 link to this one)

Oof. This one hurts in the best way. It’s everything you want for these characters that they never got to have. It’s fluff, but it feels like angst because it’s a reminder of what the Mulder-Scully family could have been. I love it!

🛁🫧 the alchemy by @leiascully

I absolutely adore “platonic” intimacy that happens when they’re not quite together, and this fic starts out that way and ends in some incredibly satisfying RST. For such a short fic, this one sure does pack a punch! One of my favorites from fictober.

🕳️📍 You Send Me by spookynerd

The silliest premise leads to the sweetest romance! I love to see Mulder all pathetic and pining. My favorite line: “I’m in love. I think it’s terminal.”

🧜‍♀️💍 mermaids, native to montana by @foxmulders

I read this one a while ago and recently stumbled across it again. It’s the type of fluff with an undercurrent of sadness that creates such a powerful sense of longing. If you’re a fan of an unconventional marriage fic, read this one!

🛌🚂 Untitled by @myassbrokethefall

I usually steer clear of revival fics (I haven’t even been able to bring myself to watch it yet) but this one is just so darn sweet! I’d like to go back in time and show CC a copy of this fic so he writes it into the show.

🎂💌 Birthday Blues by Donnilee

I’m a fan of an author who can turn the silliest, most improbable situations seem probable, and this fic delivers. Read it if you’re a fan of tropey goodness and smut that’s as adorable as it is hot.

💇‍♀️💥 By the Dim and Flaring Lamps by @sunflowerseedsandscience

I was in the mood for a historical setting, and this Civil War AU fit the bill! One of my favorite things was its exploration of 19th-century gender roles, not to mention the unconventional romance.

🇮🇪🏰 Katherine of Ireland by Jenna Tooms

If you’re a fan of Hiraeth (as I am), you’ll love this one! It has a very similar setting and plot. The writing styles are very different, though, so it’s not like they’re carbon copies of each other or anything.

Anyway, this fic is achingly romantic, with plenty of lines that take your breath away.

(If you want the epub for easier reading, let me know!)

🏝️👻 Waldron Island by @sisterspooky1013

Like Gaslight, this fic features M&S not being able to trust their own minds. However, this time, it’s for horror reasons, not sci-fi reasons. Regardless, that concept is one of my favorites to explore in fiction, so I absolutely devoured this spooky fic! (And the ending scene? 😫🔥🥵🥹‼️)

😈🪞 Succumbing to the Truth by OnlyTheInevitable

If you liked Waldron Island, you’ll love this one! It’s a similar concept, but lies more in the casefic genre rather than straight-up horror. I loooove the way it uses the plot (a succubus demon) to force M&S closer together and finally talk about their feelings. It’s one of those fics where you can see where it’s going, which adds anticipation and makes the ending so much sweeter!

🥤🛍️ Inevitable by @thefinestmuffins

This alternate version of the car conversation in Tooms is an incredible Scully character study that’s absolutely dripping with UST. For a short fic, it truly packs a punch! One of my favorite parts is this: “On the Dana Scully list of priorities, want figures very, very low. It’s not that she doesn’t possess it in great quantity, it’s just that she fights like hell to rate it less highly than ambition, dignity, control, pragmatism, self-sufficiency, stability.”

[maryellencarter]

YouTube Downloads through VLC: Step by Step

[EDIT: I've been receiving reports for some time now that this method no longer works. I suspect something about the switch to YouTube Music as a separate app, and/or YouTube's ongoing attempts to force Chrome use, broke the compatibility with the Github version of youtube.luac -- I haven't managed to look into whether there's an updated working version out there yet. Sorry!]

So this guide to easily downloading off YouTube is super helpful, but there's enough important information hidden in the reblogs that (with the permission of OP @queriesntheories ) I'm doing a more step-by-step version.

Please note: these downloads will be in YouTube quality. My test video download is coming through at 360p, even though the video I'm starting from is set to 720p. They're legible, but they won't look great on a TV. For high visual quality, you'll want to seek out other methods.

This guide is written for Windows 10, since that's what I can test on. It's been tested on Firefox, Chrome, and Edge (which is a Chromium browser, so the method should work in other Chromium browsers too). So far, I haven't tracked down a way to use this download method on mobile.

BASIC KNOWLEDGE:

I'll try to make this pretty beginner-friendly, but I am going to assume that you know how to right-click, double-click, navigate right-click menus, click-and-drag, use keyboard shortcuts that are given to you (for example, how to use Ctrl+A), and get the URL for any YouTube video you want to download.

You'll also need to download and install one or more programs off the internet using .exe files, if you don't have these programs already. Please make sure you know how to use your firewall and antivirus to keep your computer safe, and google any names you don't recognize before allowing permission for each file. You can also hover your mouse over each link in this post to make sure it goes where I'm saying it will go.

YOU WILL NEED:

A computer where you have admin permissions. This is usually a computer you own or have the main login on. Sadly, a shared computer like the ones at universities and libraries will not work for this.

Enough space on your computer to install the programs listed below, if you don't have them already, and some space to save your downloaded files to. The files are pretty small because of the low video quality.

A simple text editing program. Notepad is the one that usually comes with Windows. If it lets you change fonts, it's too fancy. A notepad designed specifically to edit program code without messing it up is Notepad++, which you can download here.

A web browser. I use Firefox, which you can get here. Chrome or other Chrome-based browsers should also work. I haven't tested in Safari.

An Internet connection fast enough to load YouTube. A little buffering is fine. The downloads will happen much faster than streaming the entire video, unless your internet is very slow.

VLC Media Player, which you can get here. It's a free player for music and videos, available on Windows, Android, and iOS, and it can play almost any format of video or audio file that exists. We'll be using it for one of the central steps in this process.

If you want just the audio from a YouTube video, you'll need to download the video and then use a different program to copy the audio into its own file. At the end of this post, I'll have instructions for that, using a free sound editor called Audacity.

SETUP TO DOWNLOAD:

The first time you do this, you'll need to set VLC up so it can do what you want. This is where we need Notepad and admin permissions. You shouldn't need to repeat this process unless you're reinstalling VLC.

If VLC is open, close it.

In your computer's file system (File Explorer on Windows), go to C:\Program Files\VideoLAN\VLC\lua\playlist

If you're not familiar with File Explorer, you'll start by clicking where the left side shows (C:). Then in the big main window, you'll double-click each folder that you see in the file path, in order - so in this case, when you're in C: you need to look for Program Files. (There will be two of them. You want the one without the x86 at the end.) Then inside Program Files you're looking for VideoLAN, and so forth through the whole path.

Once you're inside the "playlist" folder, you'll see a lot of files ending in .luac - they're in alphabetical order. The one you want to edit is youtube.luac which is probably at the bottom.

You can't edit youtube.luac while it's in this folder. Click and drag it out of the playlist folder to somewhere else you can find it - your desktop, for instance. Your computer will ask for admin permission to move the file. Click the "Continue" button with the blue and yellow shield.

Now that the file is moved, double-click on it. The Microsoft Store will want you to search for a program to open the .luac file type with. Don't go to the Microsoft Store, just click on the blue "More apps" below that option, and you'll get a list that should include your notepad program. Click on it and click OK.

The file that opens up will be absolutely full of gibberish-looking code. That's fine. Use Ctrl+A to select everything inside the file, then Backspace or Delete to delete it. Don't close the file yet.

In your web browser, go to https://github.com/videolan/vlc/blob/master/share/lua/playlist/youtube.lua

Click in the part of the Github page that has a bunch of mostly blue code in it. Use Ctrl+A to select all of that code, Ctrl+C to copy it, then come back into your empty youtube.luac file and use Ctrl+P to paste the whole chunk of code into the file.

Save the youtube.luac file (Ctrl+S or File > Save in the upper left corner of the notepad program), then close the notepad program.

Drag youtube.luac back into the folder it came from. The computer will ask for admin permission again. Give it permission.

Now you can close Github and Notepad. You're ready to start downloading!

HOW TO DOWNLOAD:

First, get your YouTube link. It should look something like this: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=abc123DEF45 If it's longer, you can delete any extra stuff after that first set of letters and numbers, but you don't have to.

Now open VLC. Go to Media > Open Network Stream and paste your YouTube link into the box that comes up. Click Play. Wait until the video starts to play, then you can pause it if you want so it's not distracting you during the next part.

(If nothing happens, you probably forgot to put youtube.luac back. coughs)

In VLC, go to Tools > Codec Information. At the bottom of the pop-up box you'll see a long string of gibberish in a box labeled Location. Click in the Location box. It won't look like it clicked properly, but when you press Ctrl+A, it should select all. Use Ctrl+C to copy it.

In your web browser, paste the entire string of gibberish and hit Enter. Your same YouTube video should come up, but without any of the YouTube interface around it. This is where the video actually lives on YouTube's servers. YouTube really, really doesn't like to show this address to humans, which is why we needed VLC to be like "hi I'm just a little video player" and get it for us.

Because, if you're looking at the place where the video actually lives, you can just right-click-download it, and YouTube can't stop you.

Right-click on your video. Choose "Save Video As". Choose where to save it to - I use my computer's built-in Music or Videos folders.

Give it a name other than "videoplayback" so you can tell it apart from your other downloads.

The "Save As Type" dropdown under the Name field will probably default to MP4. This is a good versatile video format that most video players can read. If you need a different format, you can convert the download later. (That's a whole other post topic.)

Click Save, and your video will start downloading! It may take a few minutes to fully download, depending on your video length and internet speed. Once the download finishes, congratulations! You have successfully downloaded a YouTube video!

If you'd like to convert your video into a (usually smaller) audio file, so you can put it on a music player, it's time to install and set up Audacity.

INSTALLING AUDACITY (first time setup for audio file conversion):

You can get Audacity here. If you're following along on Windows 10, choose the "64-bit installer (recommended)". Run the installer, but don't open Audacity at the end, or if it does open, close it again.

On that same Audacity download page, scroll down past the installers to the "Additional resources". You'll see a box with a "Link to FFmpeg library". This is where you'll get the add-on program that will let Audacity open your downloaded YouTube video, so you can tell it to make an audio-only file. The link will take you to this page on the Audacity support wiki, which will always have the most up-to-date information on how to install the file you need here.

From that wiki page, follow the link to the actual FFmpeg library. If you're not using an adblocker, be careful not to click on any of the ads showing you download buttons. The link you want is bold blue text under "FFmpeg Installer for Audacity 3.2 and later", and looks something like this: "FFmpeg_5.0.0_for_Audacity_on_Windows_x86.exe". Download and install it. Without this, Audacity won't be able to open MP4 files downloaded from YouTube.

CONVERTING TO AUDIO:

Make sure you know where to find your downloaded MP4 video file. This file won't go away when you "convert" it - you'll just be copying the audio into a different file.

Open up Audacity.

Go to File > Open and choose your video file.

You'll get one of those soundwave file displays you see in recording booths and so forth. Audacity is a good solid choice if you want to teach yourself to edit soundwave files, but that's not what we're here for right now.

Go to File > Export Audio. The File Name will populate to match the video's filename, but you can edit it if you want.

Click the Browse button next to the Folder box, and choose where to save your new audio file to. I use my computer's Music folder.

You can click on the Format dropdown and choose an audio file type. If you're not sure which one you want, MP3 is the most common and versatile.

If you'd like your music player to know the artist, album, and so forth for your audio track, you can edit that later in File Manager, or you can put the information in with the Edit Metadata button here. You can leave any of the slots blank, for instance if you don't have a track number because it's a YouTube video.

Once everything is set up, click Export, and your new audio file will be created. Go forth and listen!

[zapreportsblog]

Can I request platonic Carlisle x child fem witch reader (like 14-15, she ages really slowly), Carlisle saved her from being killed during the Salem Witch Trials? He cares for her so much and since she’s the only one who sleeps in the Cullen clan, he sometimes watches her sleep as if protecting her or something. And he acts somewhat protective of her after finding out she’s Seth’s imprint?

❝the witch hybrid and her companion❞

✭ pairing : father Carlisle Cullen x reader x imprint Seth Clearwater

✭ fandom : twilight

✭ summary : (y/n) is a young witch who Carlisle had saved from the Salem witch trials, she had been been on the verge of being fully brunt to death when he had grabbed and rescued her, she was fifteen when he had turnt her thus making her the first hybrid of both witch and vampire species.

✭ authors note : this shit so long I gotta make a part 2 because I wasn’t done writing

✭ twilight masterlist

The year was 1692, and the small town of Salem was ablaze with fear and suspicion. The Salem Witch Trials had gripped the community, turning neighbor against neighbor, friend against friend. Whispers of witchcraft echoed through the narrow, winding streets like a curse.

In the midst of this hysteria, a young witch named (Y/N) found herself ensnared in the web of accusations. She was a mere fifteen years old, with (dark/light) (h/c) hair and hypnotizing (e/c) eyes that held the secrets of centuries past. Her magical abilities had manifested early, and she had done her best to hide them, but the fervor of the witch hunt had spared no one.

One fateful evening, as the moon hung low in the darkened sky, the town's fervor reached its peak. (Y/N) was dragged from her humble cottage by an angry mob, her hands bound, and the scent of burning wood filled the air. The townsfolk were determined to put an end to the supposed evil that had plagued their lives.

The makeshift gallows stood tall in the center of town, a grim reminder of the collective madness that had taken hold. A wooden stake awaited (Y/N), and the flames that danced around it cast eerie shadows on her pale, terrified face.

As the crowd jeered and cursed, the flames were lit, and the stake began to smolder. (Y/N) let out a piercing scream as the searing pain coursed through her body. She was on the brink of death, her skin blistering and her vision fading.

But then, a figure emerged from the shadows, moving with preternatural grace and speed. Carlisle Cullen, a vampire with a heart that still beat for compassion, could not bear to witness this gruesome spectacle. He had heard rumors of witches in Salem and had come to investigate, hoping to prevent further tragedy.

In an instant, Carlisle reached (Y/N)'s side. With a strength that belied his gentle appearance, he tore the wooden stake from her chest. The townsfolk gasped in shock as they beheld a young man of ethereal beauty and otherworldly strength.

Carlisle cradled the near-lifeless (Y/N) in his arms and vanished into the night, leaving behind the chaos and confusion of the mob. He knew that there was only one way to save her now—to grant her the immortality of a vampire.

As they fled into the wilderness, (Y/N) clung to consciousness, her body burned and broken. She whispered a faint thank you to the stranger who had appeared like a guardian angel in her darkest hour. Little did she know that this mysterious savior would change the course of her life forever.

In the moonlit forest, Carlisle Cullen made a solemn vow. He would teach (Y/N) to control her newfound powers, guide her through the complexities of immortal life, and protect her from the world that had once condemned her. Together, they would find redemption and forge a bond that would withstand the ages.

Carlisle had taken a great risk when he saved (Y/N) from the clutches of death during the Salem Witch Trials. He had severed ties with the Volturi long ago, seeking a life that adhered to his moral compass. His choice to create a vampire out of (Y/N), who still possessed her magical abilities, was a secret he needed to protect at all costs.

The struggles were immediate. (Y/N)'s powers, now amplified by her vampiric nature, were dangerously unpredictable. At times, her emotions would trigger bursts of magic that could send objects flying or set the forest ablaze. Keeping her abilities hidden from both the human world and the vampire authorities became an arduous task.

Carlisle spent countless nights helping (Y/N) gain control over her newfound powers. He was patient, guiding her through the nuances of her magic, teaching her to harness it without drawing attention. Together, they honed her skills in secrecy, for they knew that revealing her true nature could lead to disastrous consequences.

As the years passed, Carlisle and (Y/N) developed a bond that ran deeper than blood. They became a family of two, sharing their eternal existence and the burden of concealing her abilities. It was a lonely existence, but they clung to the hope that they could find others like them, vampires who shared their values and accepted (Y/N) despite her magical nature.

Their quest for companionship led them on a journey across the continent. They followed whispers and rumors, searching for those who might understand their unique situation. It was during this quest that they stumbled upon a coven unlike any other.

In a remote, wooded area, they encountered people on the verge of dying such as Edward, Esme, Rosalie, Jasper, Emmett, and Alice.

Together, they navigated the challenges of their unique existence, supporting each other through the trials of immortality and the constant threat of the Volturi's scrutiny. As they honed their abilities and shared their stories, they discovered the true meaning of family – a bond forged not by blood but by choice and shared values.

Their coven became a sanctuary, a place where each member could be their authentic selves without fear of judgment or persecution. And as they faced the world together, they knew that their unity was their greatest strength, a testament to the power of love, acceptance, and the enduring spirit of those who dared to defy the darkness that sought to consume them.

The year was 2005, and the town of Forks had remained a quiet, secluded haven for the Cullen family. (Y/N), now a hybrid of a witch and vampire, appeared eternally fifteen but was wise beyond her years. Her days were spent in the cozy Cullen home, where Esme provided her with a homeschooling education tailored to her unique needs.

Yet, there was a part of (Y/N) that longed for more than the confines of their home. She yearned for the normalcy of teenage life, for the bustling hallways of a high school, and for the companionship of her siblings. Carlisle remained as protective as ever, reluctant to expose her to the unpredictable world outside, but he couldn't deny her the occasional visits to Forks High School.

One crisp afternoon, (Y/N) stood by the school's parking lot, waiting for her siblings to emerge from their classes. She watched as the students filed out, their laughter and chatter filling the air. Her heart ached for the chance to experience such simple joys.

Suddenly, a tiny whirlwind of energy appeared before her, and she smiled as Alice materialized in front of her. Alice's golden eyes sparkled with excitement, and she greeted her sister with a grin.

"(Y/N), you won't believe it," Alice chirped, her voice filled with anticipation.

Arching an eyebrow, (Y/N) replied, "Believe what, Alice?"

With a playful twirl, Alice continued, "Life just got even more interesting in Forks High School."

(Y/N) couldn't help but be intrigued. "How so?"

Alice leaned in conspiratorially, her eyes gleaming with mischief. "There's a new girl at the school."

(Y/N) raised an eyebrow, intrigued by Alice's enthusiasm. "A new girl? Why is that so exciting?"

Alice's eyes widened as she explained, "Because, dear sister, this new girl is different. I've seen flashes of her future, and it's...uncertain. There's something extraordinary about her, something that might just shake up our tranquil little town."

(Y/N) considered Alice's words, her curiosity piqued. She had always trusted Alice's visions, and this revelation promised an unexpected twist in their otherwise peaceful existence.

As the rest of their siblings joined them in the parking lot, (Y/N) shared Alice's revelation. They exchanged glances filled with curiosity and anticipation. Life in Forks was about to become more intriguing, and the Cullen family was ready to face whatever challenges the new girl's arrival might bring.

The year was 2005, and the town of Forks had remained a quiet, secluded haven for the Cullen family. (Y/N), now a hybrid of a witch and vampire, appeared eternally fifteen but was wise beyond her years. Her days were spent in the cozy Cullen home, where Esme provided her with a homeschooling education tailored to her unique needs.

Yet, there was a part of (Y/N) that longed for more than the confines of their home. She yearned for the normalcy of teenage life, for the bustling hallways of a high school, and for the companionship of her siblings. Carlisle remained as protective as ever, reluctant to expose her to the unpredictable world outside, but he couldn't deny her the occasional visits to Forks High School.

One crisp afternoon, (Y/N) stood by the school's parking lot, waiting for her siblings to emerge from their classes. She watched as the students filed out, their laughter and chatter filling the air. Her heart ached for the chance to experience such simple joys.

Suddenly, a tiny whirlwind of energy appeared before her, and she smiled as Alice materialized in front of her. Alice's golden eyes sparkled with excitement, and she greeted her sister with a grin.

"(Y/N), you won't believe it," Alice chirped, her voice filled with anticipation.

Arching an eyebrow, (Y/N) replied, "Believe what, Alice?"

With a playful twirl, Alice continued, "Life just got even more interesting in Forks High School."

(Y/N) couldn't help but be intrigued. "How so?"

Alice leaned in conspiratorially, her eyes gleaming with mischief. "There's a new girl at the school."

(Y/N) raised an eyebrow, intrigued by Alice's enthusiasm. "A new girl? Why is that so exciting?"

Alice's eyes widened as she explained, "Because, dear sister, this new girl is different. I've seen flashes of her future, and it's...uncertain. There's something extraordinary about her, something that might just shake up our tranquil little town."

(Y/N) considered Alice's words, her curiosity piqued. She had always trusted Alice's visions, and this revelation promised an unexpected twist in their otherwise peaceful existence.

As the rest of their siblings joined them in the parking lot, (Y/N) shared Alice's revelation. They exchanged glances filled with curiosity and anticipation. Life in Forks was about to become more intriguing, and the Cullen family was ready to face whatever challenges the new girl's arrival might bring.

Edward had long been intrigued by Bella Swan, the human girl who had captured his heart. He knew the time had come to introduce her to his family, the Cullens. With a mixture of anticipation and apprehension, he arrived at the Cullen residence with Bella by his side.

The Cullen home exuded an air of elegance and tranquility as Edward and Bella entered. Carlisle and Esme, the matriarch and patriarch of the family, stood together, their welcoming smiles putting Bella at ease. Alice, as ever, bounced with enthusiasm, eager to greet the newcomer.

Rosalie, the beautiful but distant blonde, maintained her standoffish demeanor. Emmett, her jovial and easygoing husband, offered a warm and friendly greeting. Jasper, with his polite distance, appeared cordial yet reserved.

As Bella took in the room full of unique and ethereal beings, her nerves were palpable. Edward gently squeezed her hand, offering silent reassurance.

Edward turned to Bella, his arm draped around her, and gestured toward the youngest member of the family. "(Y/N)," he began, "I'd like you to meet Bella Swan."

(Y/N) stepped forward, her emerald eyes twinkling with curiosity and warmth. "Hello, Bella," she greeted with a genuine smile.

Bella returned the smile, though her gaze flickered with surprise as she took in (Y/N)'s youthful appearance. "Hi, (Y/N). Nice to meet you."

Edward, ever the attentive brother, chimed in, "Bella, (Y/N) is homeschooled. She's rather sensitive emotionally, and we want to ensure she's comfortable."

Bella nodded, not questioning the explanation, and (Y/N) added, "It's lovely to meet someone new. I don't often get the chance to make friends outside the family."

As the conversation flowed, Bella and (Y/N) discovered shared interests. They both had a deep love for nature and a passion for ballet. They exchanged stories about their experiences, and (Y/N) found herself drawn to Bella's genuine and kind-hearted nature.

Alice, always eager to foster connections, joined in their conversation with her trademark enthusiasm. Jasper remained observant but distant, his empathic nature making him cautious around newcomers. Rosalie, on the other hand, kept her distance but couldn't help but sneak occasional glances at Bella, her curiosity getting the better of her.

As the evening unfolded, the Cullens' initial uncertainties about Bella began to fade. It was clear that she brought a light into their home, and her connection with (Y/N) was a pleasant surprise.

Though the Cullens were a family of immortal vampires, they had managed to create a sense of belonging and unity. With Bella's arrival, the dynamics shifted once more, adding a new layer of complexity to their existence. Little did they know that this human girl would play a significant role in their future, bringing challenges and joys they could never have anticipated.

The bond between (Y/N) and Bella had grown stronger since their first meeting at the Cullen household. They shared countless hours talking about everything from books to ballet, and their friendship had become an unbreakable connection.

One sunny afternoon, Bella decided to introduce (Y/N) to a friend from her other life in Forks, someone who was quite different from the Cullen family. She took (Y/N) to the nearby La Push reservation, where she introduced her to Jacob Black.

Jacob, a tall and lanky young man with a warm smile, greeted Bella and her new friend with enthusiasm. (Y/N) was immediately struck by his friendly and down-to-earth nature. She found herself drawn to his easygoing demeanor, which contrasted with the graceful elegance of her vampire family.

As they sat in the shade of a towering tree, (Y/N) and Jacob began to chat. She learned that Jacob had a passion for fixing cars and motorcycles, an interest he'd picked up from his father. It was an unusual hobby for a young man on the brink of shifting into a werewolf, but Jacob loved the mechanical world as much as (Y/N) loved ballet and nature.

"(Y/N), you ever work on cars or bikes?" Jacob asked, his eyes lighting up with excitement.

She shook her head, intrigued by the idea. "No, I've never had the chance, but I'd love to learn."

Jacob grinned, his enthusiasm infectious. "Well, I can teach you if you're interested. We've got an old truck in the garage that's in need of some TLC."

Bella watched as her friend and her new friend connected over a shared interest. It was a heartwarming sight, seeing her worlds collide in such a positive way.

In the days that followed, (Y/N) visited La Push regularly to spend time with Jacob. She learned how to wield wrenches and navigate the inner workings of an engine. She watched with fascination as he effortlessly fixed motorcycles and patiently explained the mechanics behind each repair.

As (Y/N) delved into this new hobby, she couldn't help but notice the parallel between her time with Jacob and the moments she had observed between Rosalie and Emmett as they worked on cars together. She marveled at the beauty of human experiences and how they transcended the boundaries of her immortal life.

Her friendship with Jacob deepened, and she treasured the moments spent working on engines and sharing stories under the open sky. In those moments, (Y/N) realized that bonds could be formed beyond the supernatural world of vampires and werewolves, and that the connections she forged with humans were just as significant and meaningful.

The year had turned to 2006, and the bonds between (Y/N), Bella, and Jacob had grown stronger since (Y/N) started learning about cars and motorcycles with him. However, a shadow had fallen over their friendship.

Jacob had become distant, and Bella couldn't understand why. She was tired of being ignored, and one day, she decided to confront him with (Y/N) by her side.

They arrived at Jacob's house, and the atmosphere was tense. Bella knew something was amiss, and she was determined to get answers. As they approached the house, they heard roughhousing and laughter coming from the backyard.

Bella's frustration was evident as she muttered, "Enough is enough. I need to know what's going on."

(Y/N) nodded in agreement, her concern mirrored in her eyes. They made their way to the backyard, where they were met with an unexpected sight. Paul, Jared, and Sam, all shirtless, were playfully wrestling in the grass.

Bella's patience had run thin, and she spoke up, "Jacob, we need to talk."

The laughter ceased as the three boys turned to look at the girls. Sam, with his wisdom and responsibility as the pack's alpha, stepped forward. "What's this about, Bella?"

Jacob stood nearby, his expression guarded. Bella's frustration boiled over, and she finally confronted him, "You've been avoiding me, Jacob. I want to know why."

Jacob hesitated, his gaze shifting between Bella and his pack members. But it was Paul who decided to speak, his voice dripping with sarcasm, "Well, maybe it's because we've got more important things to do than hang out with vampires."

Bella's eyes widened in shock. She had heard the legends, but this was the first time someone from the Quileute tribe had openly referred to the Cullens as vampires.

A tense silence hung in the air, broken only by Jared's uneasy cough. Jacob's features hardened as he faced Bella, the truth finally out in the open. "Yes, Bella, we know what your family is. We know they're the cold ones."

(Y/N), who had remained quiet until now, felt the tension rise to a breaking point. Her magical abilities had always been a closely guarded secret, but she couldn't stand by as the situation escalated.

Before anyone could react, Bella, driven by anger and hurt, slapped Paul across the face. It was an instinctive reaction, but the consequences were immediate. Paul's body began to tremble, and within moments, he transformed into a massive, russet-colored wolf.

Chaos erupted as the other wolves reacted, growling and snapping at the sudden threat. Jacob, acting on instinct to protect Bella, shifted into his wolf form and leaped between Paul and the girls.

(Y/N), her magical powers flaring to life, sensed the impending danger. She stepped forward, raising her hands, and a shimmering magical shield sprang into existence, surrounding Bella and Jacob, protecting them from the agitated wolves.

The standoff continued for a tense moment until Sam, as the pack's leader, barked a command, and the wolves reluctantly backed down. (Y/N) slowly lowered the shield, and the tension in the air dissipated.

Bella and Jacob were left staring at each other, the truth now laid bare.

The tension in the forest eased as Sam, the alpha of the Quileute wolf pack, intervened and calmed the agitated wolves. He beckoned everyone to follow him back to his cabin, where they could talk more openly.

Jacob turned to Bella, his expression pained. "Bella, try not to stare at Emily too much."

(Y/N) caught Jacob's words and glanced at Bella with curiosity. She followed Jacob's gaze to a woman named Emily who was standing nearby. Bella's reaction was immediate; she was taken aback by the scars on Emily's face.

As they entered Sam's cabin, Bella couldn't help but ask, "What happened to her?"

Sam, understanding the girls' confusion, began to explain. "Emily's scars are a result of a shifter's transformation gone wrong. It's a risk we face when we shift. Sometimes, accidents happen."

(Y/N) listened intently, and as she looked at Emily, her mind flashed back to her own past. She remembered the pain of the flames, the burns on her body, and the scars she had carried before Carlisle had turned her into a vampire. It was a painful memory she rarely revisited.

Sam continued, "We're not just ordinary humans, Bella. We're shape-shifters. We transform into wolves. We've known about the cold ones, the vampires, for a long time, and there's a history of conflict between our kind."

Bella's eyes widened, realizing that the tension between Jacob's pack and her family was deeply rooted. It was a revelation that left her with more questions than answers.

Then, Sam turned to (Y/N), his gaze intense. "And what about you? You smell human, but not quite."

(Y/N) hesitated for a moment before she decided to share her truth. "I'm not just a vampire. I'm also a witch. Carlisle turned me during the Salem Witch Trials to save my life, but I retained my magic."

The room fell silent as Sam processed this revelation. The other members of the pack, including Paul, who had calmed down, overheard the conversation and entered the cabin.

Paul, still uneasy about (Y/N), voiced his concerns. "Sam, she's dangerous. A vampire-witch hybrid? Who knows what she's capable of?"

Sam raised a hand, silencing Paul. He turned back to (Y/N), his eyes steady. "Explain. How do you use your magic?"

(Y/N) took a deep breath and began to recount the story of the Salem Witch Trials, how she had been condemned, and how Carlisle had turned her to save her life. She spoke of the magic she had retained and how she had learned to harness it, to control it.

As her story unfolded, the tension in the room began to ease. Sam and the rest of the pack listened with rapt attention, realizing that (Y/N) was not a threat but someone who had suffered and survived against all odds.

As the conversation in Sam's cabin continued, the atmosphere began to relax, and the tension that had filled the room started to dissipate. The Cullen and the Quileute pack shared stories and experiences, forging a fragile understanding. However, a new presence entered the room, and the dynamics shifted once more.

The door swung open, and Seth Clearwater entered, a sheepish smile on his face. "Sorry I'm late, everyone. Got caught up in patrol duty."

He started to explain further but stopped abruptly as his eyes locked onto (Y/N)'s. Time seemed to stand still for Seth as he made eye contact with her, and a series of vivid flashes inundated his mind.

He saw himself dating (Y/N), their laughter echoing through the forest as they went on hikes, their hands intertwined. He saw tender moments of them kissing under the moonlight, their love stronger than anything he had ever imagined. He even saw himself undergoing a transformation, becoming immortal through (Y/N)'s magic, so they could live out their lives together.

The sudden influx of images left Seth bewildered, his heart racing. He stumbled over his words, his apology fading into silence. It was as if a veil had been lifted, revealing a future he had never known he wanted.

The room fell silent as everyone turned their attention to Seth. It didn't take long for Sam to realize what had occurred. He approached Seth, his expression knowing. "Seth, you've imprinted."

Seth nodded, still dazed by the overwhelming experience. He couldn't tear his gaze away from (Y/N), who had a bewildered yet sympathetic expression on her face.

Bella, having experienced imprinting with Jacob, understood the gravity of the situation. She leaned over to whisper to (Y/N), "It's a Quileute thing. He can't help it. It's like he's bound to you now."

(Y/N) nodded in understanding, feeling a mix of surprise and sympathy for Seth. She had witnessed how powerful imprinting could be and how it could affect someone's life.

Seth, still recovering from the shock, couldn't help but act like a lovesick puppy around (Y/N). He smiled at her, his gaze lingering, and his actions becoming increasingly attentive. It was clear that his world had shifted, and his focus had become solely centered on her.

The room settled back into conversation, but Seth's newfound devotion to (Y/N) remained evident. He was drawn to her like a magnet, his presence a constant reminder of the complexities of the supernatural world they inhabited.

As the evening wore on, the Cullen and the Quileute pack continued to exchange stories and experiences, but now there was an added layer of understanding and acceptance. The bonds forged between them grew stronger, and they realized that in a world filled with secrets and supernatural forces, connections could form in the most unexpected and profound ways.

Bella and (Y/N) headed back to the Cullens' house, the forest surrounding them bathed in the gentle light of the moon. Bella pulled up to the driveway, and (Y/N) stepped out of the car, her thoughts lingering on the revelations of the evening.

As she watched Bella drive off, (Y/N) couldn't help but feel a mix of emotions. She had made new friends, but she was aware of the complications that could arise from her interactions with the outside world. Her hybrid nature, a blend of vampire and witch, held secrets that she needed to protect.

Entering the Cullens' home, (Y/N) was immediately surrounded by her family. Carlisle, Esme, Alice, Edward, Rosalie, Emmett, and Jasper all gathered around her, their expressions a mix of concern and curiosity.

"Where have you been, (Y/N)?" Carlisle's voice held a hint of anger, but also a deep concern. He had always been protective of her, knowing the dangers of the human world and the risks associated with her true nature being exposed.

(Y/N) took a deep breath, her gaze meeting Carlisle's. "I've been hanging out with Bella and Jacob and some new friends I made."

Carlisle's concern deepened. "New friends? (Y/N), you know the risks. Your true nature, both as a vampire and a witch, could be exposed to humans."

(Y/N) nodded, understanding his worries but also eager to share her experiences. "I know, Carlisle, but I've been careful. And I've learned a lot about the Quileute culture and the challenges they face."

Carlisle couldn't help but feel a mix of emotions. He was angry that Bella had taken (Y/N) without informing anyone, concerned about the risks, but also happy that his daughter had made friends outside their family.

However, his world was about to be shaken once more. (Y/N) noticed the change in her father's demeanor and decided it was time to reveal the most significant development of the evening.

"I have something to tell you," she began, her voice tinged with a hint of infatuation. "I've been imprinted on."

Carlisle's eyes widened in shock. "Imprinted? By whom?"

(Y/N) smiled, a lovesick expression in her eyes. "Seth Clearwater."

The room fell silent as the gravity of the situation sunk in. Carlisle realized that his younger daughter had formed a bond that was far deeper and more profound than any ordinary friendship. He knew that an imprint was a powerful connection, one that couldn't be broken.

As (Y/N) continued to share the story of her evening and the imprint, Carlisle's world came crashing down. He had always known that his family's supernatural existence came with complexities, but the idea of his daughter being infatuated with a young shifter left him with a mix of emotions—concern, worry, and a touch of sadness for the challenges that lay ahead.

The Cullens, a family bound by love and acceptance, now faced a new chapter in their extraordinary lives, one that would test their bonds and their ability to navigate the intricate web of supernatural connections.

[chilling-seavey]

The Lights of my Hometown (cl16)

↳ Timeless: F1 Grid Masterlist

↳ Summary: In neutral Monaco, Charles is watching the Great War unfold from the newspaper. Life feels so normal; but nothing is normal anymore.

↳ Title Song: The Lights of my Hometown by the Peerless Quartet (1916)

↳ Word Count: 1.0k

↳ A/N: Pretend all dialogue etc. in this is in French. I didn't want to make you all read poorly google-translated French so just pretend its, like, dubbed or something LOL

↳ Warnings: Wartime discourse, descriptions of loss of loved ones, grief, and characters being blind to the true horrors of war.

September 1916

The crackle of the phonograph harmonized with the beautiful notes of the soprano that spilled from its horn. In the parlour of the Monte Carlo apartment, Charles sat comfortably on the chesterfield with his cup of tea and the morning paper in hand. The Journal de Monaco was one of the prime connections to the ongoing war in Europe and, every morning, Charles took to its pages to follow the happenings on the Western and Eastern fronts. In the comfort of his apartment amongst the joyous sounds of his favourite records, in the neutrality of Monaco, he knew he held a luxury most men in Europe no longer had.

Some of the Monegasque men traveled to France at the start of the war to fight for the French army, not wanting to sit idle by while the rest of the world fought for freedom in Europe. Charles’ elder brother was amongst these rare few; wanting to follow in their father’s footsteps and fight heroically in battles for the greater good. Their father had been killed in the Second Boer War just before the turn of the century and his honour lived on in the hearts of his three sons; his dedication to his family and to Europe. 

Their mother had pleaded with her eldest son not to volunteer his life for a war that their tiny Principality was not a part of, but perhaps he was just as headstrong as their late father. Charles, although old enough to enlist in the French army as well, chose to stay home and take care of their mother and their younger brother. It wasn’t a decision made from cowardice, although no one in Monaco thought it to be such. They were all perfect content in their familiar comforts amongst their national neutrality. 

“Sir,” the butler then stepped into the room, addressing Charles who, for the time being, was the man of the house. Atop his gloved hand was a silver tray, “the post has been delivered.”

“Ah, splendid,” Charles folded his newspaper and leaned forward to set it on the coffee table, turning his full attention to the man as he approached. 

The butler lowered the silver tray on which two envelopes sat, stamped and addressed to ‘Monsieur C. Leclerc’ in the senders’ cursive scrawl. Charles picked up the envelopes and thanked the butler, dismissing him in doing so, and then he settled back against the chesterfield. 

With his mother upstairs with her lady's maid getting ready for the day, Charles took it upon himself to open his brother’s letter first with a sharp swipe of his letter opener along the top of the envelope. He read the contents carefully, having had plenty of practice dodging the mud splotches and water stains that came from the trenches over in northern France. He could tell through his way of writing that his brother’s spirits were low; morale of the Western Front struggling as the Great War raged onto the end of its second year. 

Just then, Charles’ younger brother, Arthur, came prancing into the parlour, draping himself over the back of the chesterfield as if to read over Charles’ shoulder, inquiring without so much as a ‘good morning, “A letter from Lorenzo?”

“Yes,” Charles, having finished reading, held up the folded parchment to him to take, “he is still in the Somme.”

“A pity,” Arthur tutted, placing himself in the armchair in the corner of the room to read.

Charles then moved onto his second letter, tearing open the envelope with his letter opener and pulling out the parchment. He had figured this letter would be from his dearest friend, Pierre, whom he met when he studied abroad in Paris back in 1908. Pierre had been serving in the French air force throughout the war, always keeping Charles up to date on the gossip rather than the news—what things they did to German prisoners for a bit of a laugh or which soldier got a disease from a night at the local brothel.

Instead, Charles was startled by the shockingly clean and proper parchment that was pulled from the envelope; a striking difference to the usual muddied and crumpled papers that came from the front lines. Under a furrowed brow, he began to read,

‘Dear Charles, I am writing to you on behalf of our darling Pierre, with whom you were dearest of friends. We received a notice from the Minister of Militia yesterday that our darling boy had been killed in action a fortnight ago. His plane was shot down over enemy lines and, later, recovered by our troops to be buried at the front. Our hearts are crushed by this tragedy and the only thought that God wanted him home can, in a measure, bring us consolation, although I feel as if we will never get over the loss of our baby boy.  Thank you for being a true friend to our Pierre. He always spoke so highly of you. If you ever find yourself in Normandy, please pay us a visit. May God comfort and bless you. Yours sincerely,  M & Mme J Gasly’

Charles sat there for a moment, the letter clutched in his hands. He stared at the words, re-read them, trying to make sense of an announcement that felt so unreal. It couldn’t be true; he had just received a letter from Pierre the week before and he had sent one back. Had Pierre never received his letter then? Did he even know how much he meant to Charles? 

Charles slowly tore his eyes away from the letter and looked out over the harbour and the glistening waters of the Mediterranean. The sky was a brilliant blue, the sea was sparkling, and Monaco was at peace. Life went about as normal. 

Life in Monaco went about as normal while men were dying in sodden battlefields up north.

Life in Monaco went about as normal while Pierre was dying in sodden battlefields up north.

Charles didn’t wipe away the tear that slipped down his cheek. 

Grief weighed heavy on his heart and, in that moment, like a child once more, he could only beg fruitlessly to God for his brother to come home safely.

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[scorpioriesling]

Too Hot to Handle - Episode 6

･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* ✧･ﾟ: *

Characters featured: Reader, Feyre, Morrigan, Nesta, Gwyn, Elain, Emerie, Amren, Cassian, Lucien, Eris, Tarquin, Rhysand, Helion, Azriel, & Tamlin

Warning(s): None really, light suggestions

SR’s Note: Thank you always for your patience! All the support for this series is appreciated too. I know this one is shorter, but oh my god so much happens haha! Enjoy and I cannot wait to hear your feedback! Only 4 more episodes after this! (‘: Tags: @velarisdusk @lilah-asteria @starlightazriel @panther-girl-124 @cynthiesjmxazrielslover @paintedbyshadows

･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* ✧･ﾟ: *

Episode 5

"Y/N, I don't think I'm going to be able to do this," Lucien sighs heavily. Your eyes scan the room, taking in every inch of crimson-painted wall lined with various toys, devices, and... instruments of all kinds. You've practically done a 360 degree turn when your eyes meet Lucien's again, which are dark with growing lust as his gaze rakes over your form.

"Lucien -- stop. We have to be good tonight, remember? We just cost the group a lot of money last night..." You trail off as he draws closer, slowly closing the gap between the two of you. His scent of amber and earth is strong, the earlier smell of the ocean and shore long washed from him. You stare up into his enticing gaze as he hungrily gazes at your lips, his eyes trailing lower to your chest as it rises and falls rapidly with each breath. The fact that you chose to wear a rather low-cut neckline tonight was obviously not the best choice, had you only known.

"Lucien," you whisper as his fingers slide over the curves of your ass. He smirks, squeezing lightly, which makes you jump. You smack his shoulder and pull back, begrudgingly making your way to the balcony and away from his embrace -- much where you'd rather be, if Lana weren't involved.

"Ughhhhhh," he groans, trailing slowly behind you. You open the doors, allowing the cool breeze of the night in to ease the burn of his touch on your skin. He comes up behind you, this time placing his hands on either side of the railing, sure not to touch you. He dips his head after a few moments, resting it on the back of your shoulderblade as you continue to peer out at the night sky.

"Why don't we just end this retreat early and go about our lives outside of here?" He says, his muffled words from his lips against your skin.

"Hm?" You humm.

He draws back, placing a light kiss behind your ear. "I mean," his breath tickles your ear. "Why don't we just leave early, like, get out of here? Then we can do whatever we want," his fingers tickle your side, and you laugh, shrinking back against him. "... then me and my city girl wouldn't have to worry about any silly rules, right?" He says. You look behind you, meeting his gaze with a raised brow.

"Who's to say you aren't exactly how you were when you first came to this retreat, hm?" You tease. Lucien rolls his eyes, and you poke his side, causing him to chuckle. You slip from his embrace, slinking back inside, toward the sex chamber from Hell that you weren't allowed to indulge in.

Over your shoulder, you smirked at him, watching you from against the balcony railing. "You may not even like the city, anyway."

･ﾟ:* ✧･ﾟ: *

Back at the villa, the entire group awaited anxiously. Since this new arrival had the choice of someone either in a relationship or previously single, this decision could be catastrophic for many, many reasons.

"I think it's a girl," Mor tuts. Helion sits stone-faced beside her, staring at the ground below. Feyre nervously twists her fingers beside Rhysand, who masks a cool calm face, but runs an anxious hand along her arm in an attempt at comfort. Unlike those in pairs, some of the single men are rather excited, hoping they'll be chosen.

"I would think so," Tarquin speaks up. "I mean, Azriel came last, so it would make sense to add in a girl next." He shrugs.

"Great," Cassian chuckles humorlessly. "One more chick for all of you guys to loose money over." Eris shoulder bumps him from the side.

"Dude, what if she's the hottest girl you've ever seen? You never know who's going to walk in here, or how you'd-"

"Good evening, guests." Lana intereupts.

The group quiets immediately. "Good evening, Lana."

"I am pleased to know that my couples have enjoyed their dates this evening, and I am happy to now inform you that my new arrival is ready for their date. They have selected their chosen guest for the evening as well." It seems as though the entire group holds their breath, the floodlights near the entrance of the villa blinking on as Lana pauses.

"Everyone, please welcome our new guest... Nesta."

Every head turns simultaneously, many of the guys reaching and looking over one another at the entrance to see a beautiful, ash-blonde woman walking gracefully in wearing a glittering silver floor-length gown. Her small, demure smile sent waves of unease through quite a few of the girls, who studied the guys with calculating eyes. Nesta seemed to assess each and every one, though supposedly she could make only one decision... for tonight, anyway.

"Hello everyone," she said politely, when she was close enough to the group. A few of the girls, Amren and Emerie, stood and welcomed her kindly -- the guys were either too entranced by her or had their jaws practically on the floor at this point. Cassian, for one, sat completely still, lips parted slightly, eyes wide as if he'd seen an angel for the first time.

"Nesta has chosen her date for tonight," Lana said, the group's chatter quieting once more. She stood near the edge of the group, her eyes lingering on Cassian for only a moment but landing on Eris, who winked at her, causing the small smile to only grow.

"Eris, please stand and join Nesta for your date on the beach."

"Nice!" Tamlin claps Eris on the shoulder, and Eris rises with a huge grin on his face. Cassian's mouth shuts immediately, his trance seeming to end and reality crashing back in. He folds his arms, taking a deep breath and swallowing hard.

"Hi, nice to meet you," Eris takes Nesta's hand, kissing the back of it softly. She laughs lightly, and the sound of it tickles Cassian's brain in a way he hadn't felt before. A way that made his blood boil.

Why. The Hell. Was Eris going on that date.

In that moment, he felt every nerve ending in his body. Every crackle of the fire in the pit before him felt as though it was raging inside his very heart-

"You alright there, Cass?"

No. He wouldn't be alright. Not until that Nesta, was his.

･ﾟ:* ✧･ﾟ: *

"You're sure you don't want to get in? Not even to dip your toes in?" Lucien says teasingly. You roll your eyes at him through the vanity mirror, and he laughs in response. He stands from his crouched form beside the large, rose petal-laden bathtub, still just as enticing even in the morning light.

"Oh, I'm sure." You say, setting down the hairbrush and smoothing out your hair. "The shower did me just fine, and besides, we went all night without breaking one, single rule -- I'd hate for us to lose the group that $5,000 over a silly bath."

He stalks over, the soft pads of the villa slippers you'd both recieved quiet against the carpet. His hands rest on your shoulders, and he leans down, pressing a kiss to your forehead.

"We were very good last night, weren't we?" He says. You smile softly, your fingers delicately brushing up and down his forearm as yuor eyes meet through the mirror.

"We were..." You say, leaning back against him and resting your head against his robe-covered torso.

"I wonder how the dates went," he says, his fingers moving to rub small circles against your scalp. You hum softly against the sensation, thinking of nothing else besides Lucien in this moment, the relaxation, and the quality time you have gotten with him thus far.

"Mhm..." You hum. He chuckles, his fingers retreating from your hair as he tilts you upright on your stool once more.

"We should head back soon pretty girl," he says, kissing your cheek quickly. "Still have to meet the new arrival today, right?" He winks, moving to untie his robe and slip on his clothes.

If it were up to you, you'd stay in the sex den from Hell with clothes-less Lucien rather than going back to the group villa, where the new arrival would be, along with likely a whole. Lotta. Drama.

You sigh overdramatically, averting your eyes to spare yourself the impending ache between your thighs you knew you wouldn't be able to soothe if you allowed yourself a glance.

"Yep. I bet they're missing us so much."

･ﾟ:* ✧･ﾟ: *

Episode 7

[harrysmmm]

✧˚ ༘ ⋆｡♡˚ ᴍᴀɢɪᴄᴀʟʟʏ ᴀɴɴᴏʏɪɴɢ - ᴅ.ᴍ

Draco Malfoy x Y/N (f!reader)

Setting: Harry Potter and the Goblet of Fire

Summary: where Harry and Draco have a crush on you at the same time and they both ask you to the yule ball.

A/N: should I make a part two? I feel like a little bit of jealous Malfoy after knowing that Harry has a crush on Y/N could make a nice follow-up.

W/C: 1.6K

masterlist here

Annoying. That’s the word you would use to describe that moment. One of the qualities you always acknowledged possessing was empathy. You softened with people that were sensitive; you listened to people that were suffering; you loved people that were lonely. It was in your nature to care for people, to try to understand their motives. But at that specific moment in time, you wanted to slap the shit out of a certain one.

Brat, bugger, git, prat, smart-ass, toff, wanker, yob, the list went on. That’s how you would describe Draco Malfoy. He had it against you and your friends. No - correction: he had it against everyone that was not a damn pureblood slyther-fucking-in. You would turn a corner and there he was casting a spell that would make you slipper like a seven-year-old in a slide. You would enter a classroom and find your table gravitating in the air, with all your notes scattered all over the classroom. You would eat in the Great Hall and a dead tarantula was right in your pumpkin soup. Since first year, he had been mocking you and your closest friends, Harry, Ron and Hermione. And even if the most well-known rivalry was the one he had with Harry, yours was more personal.

That cloudy day of October he decided to throw bird notes at you in Transfiguration class that distracted you from paying attention. Some of the messages followed as:

“Hey Y/L/N, I bumped into the kitchen elves this morning, they were wondering why the dishes were not done. I told them you were probably busy eating all the leftovers.” “Hey Gryffindork, saw Longbottom is still free for the yule ball, maybe you can both live your pathetic little Gryffindor tale together. P.S. You could also ask Hagrid. Bet he’s free for you.”

Private. That’s the way you would describe Harry Potter in one word. You two were close, although not as close as he was with Ron, or as close as you were with Hermione. The fact that he was always bearing the prophecy of being the chosen one was something that would set you apart – mostly because you weren’t living it and he didn’t like to further explain. It was in third year that you surprised yourself with your body’s reaction to his presence. How you started to care about the way your laugh went out during a joke; you started to care about how your hair would fall when you were sitting at the library. You developed a crush on the boy. You never made a move; he never seemed to notice, nor reciprocate it, so you eventually desisted and focused your attention on other matters.

Those were the only two boys you would mostly communicate with, for better or worse. You didn’t particularly consider yourself an introvert, but you surely counted your acquaintances on a low number, especially when it came to boys. You also bared the weight of Hermione’s influence, who was surely not into boys’ talk, or boys in general. When you were with her, which happened to be most of the time, you followed her flow and ended up not particularly wondering about dating, or romantic feelings for the matter.

However, due to the debut of the Triwizard Tournament, there was a ball that was going to take place on the 25th of December. A ball that you needed a date for. Date that, after a week of having been announced, you still didn’t have. You hadn’t been worrying until Hermione had told you that she already had a date, with no other than Viktor Krum, the hottie of the year. And if even Hermione had already managed to find a partner, that meant that you were way behind.

“You have a date?!” asked Ron, very surprised.

“Yes Ronald, why that tone?” Hermione replied.

“Bloody hell, who are you going with?” he continued, still shocked.

“I’m not telling you, but I have one,” she pretentiously replied.

“’m sure you’re bluffing,” he insisted, grinning.

“I am not! Ask Y/N!”

“She’s not,” you simply replied.

“Just because you still don’t have a date, doesn’t mean I don’t get to have one,” she said. You noticed Ron’s reaction really got to her.

“I don’t have a date because I don’t want one just now.”

“Now you are the one who’s bluffing,” commented Harry.

“You gotta help me out here, mate,” Ron whispered to Harry.

“You’re pathetic Ronald Weasley,” added Hermione, furiously closing her notebook. She stood up from her seat, handing her homework to Professor Snape. “See you later, Y/N.” You waved goodbye at her.

“Bloody hell, this woman is so delusional. I bet she made that man up,” Ron continued after Hermione had left the classroom.

 “You’re too hard on her, Ron. Besides, she does really have a date,” you said, defending her.

“I already pity the man then,” he replied, focusing back on his homework.

You rolled your eyes but didn’t answer, also focusing on the task that was on the desk.

“For Merlin’ sake, I can’t focus. I’mma go, I’ll finish it in the dorm.” Ron stood up and exited the classroom.

“You’re probably gonna have to pass it to him,” you said to Harry.

“You bet on that,” he replied, grinning.

You focused back on your homework.

“Y/N,” uttered Harry.

“Yeah?”

“Well, I was wondering… if you want… well, I was just thinking… that if by any chance you… uh… still didn’t have a date… for the ball… you might… perhaps… wanna come… with me?”

You had a surprised grin on your face,

“Well, I mean, I thought you wanted to go with someone special… taking into consideration that you’re one of the champions,” you managed to say.

“Yes… that’s why I’m asking you,” he replied.

The entire scene unnerved you. You had been wanting to be asked out by Harry since third year, and now that he was starting to conceive your dynamic as more than friendship your feelings for the boy had already worn out.

Bloody Potter, always wrong timing.

“Can I give you a proper answer tonight?” you asked, knowing that you had to process things through before saying yes.

“Sure, yeah, no problem,” he replied.

You both smiled at each other and went back to the Potions’ homework.

It was almost time for supper but you were headed to the Great Lake to read for a few moments. Technically, you were forbidden from doing so. You meant technically, because being friends with Hagrid gave you some advantages, like a free pass to visit him and wander around. You also absolutely adored that time of the year, when the leaves were of warm tones and the chill breeze made you wear white turtle neck jumpers or jumpers that had the Gryffindor patch sewn in them.

You were comfortably reading under the shade of a tree when you started hearing boyish sounds. One of the voices you recognized belonged to a particular bleached boy.

“Woo-hoo, look who came to visit her giant boyfriend.” Draco approached you, followed by his sidekicks Crabbe and Goyle.

You didn’t even wait two seconds to get up and start packing your things.

“Leaving so soon? Are we bothering you?” He cockily started approaching you.

“Fuck off, Malfoy,” you replied, closing your bag.

“What do we have here, huh? Let me see,” he asked, referring to the book you were holding.

You held it tightly but he managed to pull it from you.

“The summer I met you, ha,” he snickered. “Romantic heart, wouldn’t have bet so from you Y/L/N.”

“Can I get it back?” you asked, pulling your arm forward.

He smiled at you. “Nah.” He threw the book into the lake.

His friends started woo-hing and laughing.

“You disgusting little rat,” you pulled out your wand and directed it towards him.

He was not laughing anymore, his sidekicks directing their wands toward you too.

“You cast something, we make sure you can’t walk again,” Goyle threatened you.

“It’s alright guys,” Draco said. “Just go.”

The boys seemed confused. “Who are you talking to?”

“You, idiots. Go!” Draco snapped.

The boys didn’t move.

“You heard him. Go!” you insisted.

They pulled back, confused, and eventually left.

Your wand was still on Draco’s neck.

“Easy now, lower you bloody wand,” he calmly said.

“You’re disgusting, Draco. I mean it.” Your blood was boiling. “You treat everyone like shit. I never did anything for you to hate me. I never asked for any of this, nor did anyone.”

“Go to the ball with me,” he said.

Your heart stopped.

What in the actual fuck?

“What?” you replied.

“I want you to go to the ball with me, if you want to,” he repeated. Your wand was still on his throat.

“Why would you want that?” That was the only thing you managed to say.

He placed his right hand on your wand and slowly put it down, without losing eye contact with you.

“Isn’t it obvious, after all this time?” he said.

“I’m lost, Draco. I have no idea what is going on,” you replied, ideas of him feeling the opposite of hate for you coming to your mind.

“You’re that blind, aren’t you?” he continued, placing one hand on your wrist.

You freezed at his contact.

“Why am I blind?” you were only able to ask stupid questions at that point.

He held your face with his left hand.

“So blind…” He got closer to your face, his eyes slowly closing.

You waited for the impact. And there you had it.

His lips slowly brushed yours, still not fully colliding.

“I’m crazy for you, Y/N,” he said with both of your faces glued to each other. “You can’t even fucking imagine.”

“Since when?” you replied.

“Since always.”

Magically annoying. Those are the words you would use to describe that moment.

part two

[sinful-sonnet]

Whiskey & Wildflowers

Chapter 4

Prev | Next

Dbf!Joel miller x f!reader

W/C: 5.4k

Summary: you tell Sarah about Joel and she reacts in a way you didn’t expect. Joel drives you home, and the two of you share a quiet but emotionally charged moment. The comfort of his presence helps ease your worries, and you find yourself leaning on him in ways you didn’t expect. The evening ends on a tender note, offering a sense of peace in the midst of all the tension and uncertainty.

Content warnings: emotional vulnerability, intimacy, grief, dependency,

“Quiet Confessions”

Joel stepped into his house early that morning, the door closing softly behind him. The faint sound of Sarah rustling in the kitchen greeted him. She glanced up when she saw him, her brow furrowing in confusion.

“Where were you?” she asked, sipping her coffee. “I got home late, and you weren’t here.”

Joel hesitated, running a hand through his hair as he avoided her gaze for a moment. He cleared his throat before answering. “I was over at her place,” he said simply, his voice low.

Sarah tilted her head, curiosity and mild concern flashing across her face. “You spent the night?”

“Yeah,” he admitted, setting his keys down on the counter. “She’s not doin’ great, Sarah. Someone needed to be there.”

Sarah nodded slowly, her expression softening. “That’s good of you, Dad. She needs someone right now.”

Joel didn’t reply immediately, instead looking down as if weighing something heavier than the conversation at hand. “She does,” he murmured finally, almost to himself.

Sarah watched him for a moment longer, but didn’t press further. “Well, I’m glad she’s got you,” she said simply, before turning back to her coffee. Joel’s shoulders relaxed a fraction, though his thoughts were anything but settled.

———•

The morning light streamed through your window as you stirred, your body aching slightly from the intensity of yesterday. Every movement reminded you of Joel—the way his hands had gripped you, the weight of his body against yours, the way he had looked at you as though you were the only person in the world.

You stretched, feeling the soreness in your muscles, a dull reminder of the connection you shared. It was bittersweet—an ache that made you smile faintly despite yourself. The events played in your mind like a vivid dream, making your cheeks flush.

Pulling yourself out of bed, you wrapped a robe around your frame and headed to the kitchen, your body tired but your mind restless. The house was silent, a stark contrast to the whirlwind of emotions that had unfolded the day before. And though you were alone, you couldn’t help but feel his lingering presence, as if a part of him had stayed behind.

You wondered if he felt the same, if he was thinking about you right now, replaying everything the way you were. A pang of longing hit you—along with the question that wouldn’t leave your mind: What happens now?

You thought about stopping by maybe to see Sarah as an excuse but really to see what Joel was up to. Thought about apologizing to Sarah for being so distant. You had shower and dressed up nice and headed over to Joel’s place. Knocked on the door and Sarah was there opening it shortly after

Sarah pulled you inside, her excitement bubbling over as she held onto you. “You’ve been MIA for too long,” she said, pulling back to get a better look at you. “We need to fatten you up! Come on, let’s eat.”

You smiled sheepishly, feeling a pang of guilt for having avoided her. “I’m sorry, Sarah. I’ve just… had a lot going on.”

“It’s okay, but don’t disappear on me again, alright?” she said firmly, her hand squeezing yours before pulling you toward the kitchen.

The smell of butter and cheese hit you before you even saw him, but the sight of Joel at the stove stopped you in your tracks. He was focused on the pan, flipping sandwiches with practiced ease. When his gaze lifted and met yours, his expression softened.

“Hey, sweetheart,” he murmured, his voice low and warm.

Your heart skipped a beat, and for a moment, it felt like the rest of the room faded away. His presence was grounding, yet electric, and you couldn’t help the way your cheeks flushed under his gaze.

“Hi,” you replied softly, stepping closer but staying near Sarah, unsure how to navigate the tension building in the air.

Joel’s lips twitched into a faint smile before he turned back to the stove, but you noticed the way his shoulders tensed slightly.

Sarah, oblivious to the silent exchange, pulled out a chair for you at the table. “Sit! Let’s eat together. Dad’s grilled cheese is the best.”

You glanced at Joel as you sat down, your stomach fluttering as he plated the sandwiches and brought them over. As he set a plate in front of you, his fingers brushed against yours, sending a shiver down your spine.

“You need to eat, darlin’,” he said quietly, his tone firm but caring.

You nodded, feeling his concern and Sarah’s enthusiasm pulling you back into the moment. For the first time in weeks, you felt a sense of normalcy—though the undercurrent of unspoken feelings between you and Joel made everything feel far from ordinary.

As Joel set the last plate down, his hand lingered on your shoulder, giving it a firm squeeze. The warmth of his touch sent a shiver through you, but before you could say anything, he straightened up and stepped away.

“Gonna give you two some time to catch up,” he muttered, grabbing a half-full glass of whiskey from the counter on his way to the living room.

You watched him go, his broad frame disappearing around the corner. The sound of ice clinking in his glass followed, a subtle reminder of the tension still lingering in the air.

Sarah didn’t seem to notice, already digging into her grilled cheese with enthusiasm. “Dad’s got this down to a science,” she said between bites, gesturing toward your plate. “Eat up, girl. You need this.”

You smiled faintly, picking up your sandwich and taking a small bite. The buttery, cheesy goodness melted in your mouth, and for a moment, it felt comforting. But your thoughts kept drifting back to Joel—his distant yet heavy presence in the next room, the way his touch had lingered just a little too long.

“Seriously,” Sarah said, breaking you out of your thoughts. “You’ve got to stop being a stranger. Dad and I’ve been worried about you.”

You nodded, swallowing your bite and offering her a small smile. “I know. I’m sorry. I’m trying.”

Sarah reached across the table to squeeze your hand. “That’s all that matters.”

From the living room, you could hear the faint sound of Joel shifting in his seat, the ice in his glass clinking again. You tried to focus on Sarah, but your mind kept wandering to the man just out of sight and the unspoken pull between you.

You hesitated, the words slipping out before you could stop yourself. “Something happened with Joel yesterday, Sarah.”

Sarah froze mid-bite, her eyes widening slightly as she slowly set her sandwich down. “What do you mean ‘something happened’?” she asked, her tone cautious but curious.

Your stomach twisted as you avoided her gaze, suddenly unsure how to continue. “It’s… complicated,” you murmured, fidgeting with your hands.

Sarah leaned forward, her brows knitting together in concern. “Is everything okay? Did he say or do something to upset you?”

“No,” you said quickly, shaking your head. “Nothing like that. He’s been—he’s been really supportive, but…”

“But what?” she pressed, her voice soft but insistent.

You swallowed hard, glancing toward the living room where Joel sat, the faint clink of his glass echoing in the quiet. “I don’t know how to explain it. There’s just… tension. And yesterday, it got… intense.”

Sarah’s eyes narrowed slightly, her concern deepening. “Intense how?”

You opened your mouth to respond, but the weight of it all felt too heavy. Instead, you just shook your head again. “It’s nothing. Forget I said anything.”

Sarah stared at you for a moment, clearly unconvinced. “You’re my best friend. You can tell me anything, you know that, right?”

“I know,” you whispered, forcing a small smile. “I just need time to figure it out, that’s all.”

She nodded slowly, though the worry didn’t leave her face. “Alright. But if you need to talk, I’m here. And if my dad’s being… weird, let me know.”

You nodded back, grateful for her support but knowing this was something you couldn’t fully share—not yet. The tension between you and Joel was a secret that felt too fragile to expose, even to someone as close as Sarah.

Sarah’s fork clattered against her plate as she stared at you, her eyes wide with shock. “Don’t tell me you like… slept with him?”

Her words echoed in your head, and your heart sank into your stomach. You hesitated, your cheeks burning as the weight of her question settled between you.

“What if I did?” you whispered, barely audible, your voice trembling as you avoided her gaze.

Sarah’s jaw dropped slightly, and she leaned back in her chair, struggling to process what you’d just said. “Are you serious?” she finally asked, her voice a mix of disbelief and something you couldn’t quite place—hurt, maybe?

You bit your lip, nodding faintly as your hands fidgeted in your lap. “It just… happened,” you admitted, your voice still quiet.

She stared at you for what felt like an eternity, her expression shifting from shock to something softer, though still conflicted. “I mean, I knew he cared about you, but… this? How long has this been going on?”

“It’s not… it’s not like that,” you stammered. “It only happened once, and I—”

Sarah held up a hand, cutting you off. “Stop. I don’t need details.” She exhaled sharply, leaning forward to rub her temples. “This is so… weird.”

“I know,” you said quickly, your voice desperate. “I didn’t mean for it to happen, and I know it’s wrong, but…”

“But what?” she pressed, looking at you intently.

You swallowed hard, your eyes welling up with tears. “I think I might have feelings for him, Sarah.”

Her expression softened slightly at your confession, but she still looked conflicted. “This is so much to take in,” she admitted, shaking her head. “I don’t even know how to feel about this right now.”

“I’m sorry,” you said, your voice breaking. “I didn’t mean for any of this to happen. I just… I don’t know what to do.”

Sarah sighed, leaning back in her chair again. “Look, I’m not mad at you,” she said finally. “But this is my dad we’re talking about. You need to figure out what you’re doing before this gets even more complicated.”

You nodded, wiping at your cheeks. “I will. I promise.”

Sarah took a deep breath, her fingers drumming on the table as she stared down at her plate. “I mean, I get that you’ve been through a lot lately. And I get that my dad’s been… there for you,” she said slowly, her voice steady but guarded. “But this? I don’t even know what to say.”

You nodded, your hands trembling slightly as you gripped the edge of the table. “I don’t expect you to understand,” you said softly. “I’m still trying to figure it out myself.”

“I’m not judging you,” Sarah said quickly, her gaze softening as she leaned forward. “I just… I didn’t see this coming. At all.”

“Neither did I,” you admitted, your voice barely above a whisper.

Sarah sighed, running a hand through her hair. “Does he… feel the same way?” she asked cautiously, her expression unreadable.

You hesitated, your mind flashing back to the moments you’d shared with Joel—the stolen glances, the way his touch lingered, the quiet vulnerability in his eyes. “I think he does,” you said finally, your voice uncertain. “But he’s been holding back. Probably because he knows how wrong this is.”

Sarah was silent for a long moment, her gaze fixed on the table as she processed everything. Finally, she looked up at you, her expression a mix of concern and resignation. “Look, I love you,” she said firmly. “You’re my best friend, and I want you to be happy. But this… this is complicated. And messy. And if you’re not careful, it could hurt a lot of people.”

“I know,” you said quickly, your heart sinking at the weight of her words. “I don’t want to ruin anything, especially not with you.”

Sarah nodded, her expression softening further. “Just… be careful, okay? My dad’s a good guy, but he’s also my dad. And you’re… you’re you. I don’t want to see either of you get hurt.”

“I’ll be careful,” you promised, your voice steady despite the storm of emotions swirling inside you. “Thank you, Sarah. For understanding.”

She gave you a small, tentative smile, reaching across the table to squeeze your hand. “Always,” she said softly. “Just… don’t make me regret it.”

The room fell silent for a moment, the tension thick between you. Sarah glanced toward the living room, where Joel was still sitting, completely unaware of the conversation unfolding just a few feet away.

“I could be your new step-mom” you teased nudging her foot under the table

Sarah’s eyes widened at your comment, and she nearly choked on her drink. “Oh my god, don’t even joke about that!” she exclaimed, her face twisting between disbelief and reluctant amusement.

You grinned, nudging her foot under the table again. “What? I’d make a great step-mom. Imagine me bossing you around.”

She groaned, covering her face with her hands. “Stop. I’m already traumatized enough by this whole situation, and now you’re adding that image to my brain.”

“Come on, Sarah,” you teased, leaning forward with a playful smirk. “Think about it. Sunday family dinners, me and Joel holding hands at the table…”

She glared at you through her fingers, but there was a hint of a smile on her lips. “You’re ridiculous,” she muttered.

“Ridiculously charming,” you shot back, leaning back in your chair with a laugh.

Sarah finally let out a chuckle, shaking her head. “I can’t believe I’m even laughing at this. You’re the worst.”

“Hey, someone’s gotta lighten the mood,” you said, shrugging. “But seriously, I’m sorry for dropping all this on you.”

She sighed, her smile fading slightly but her tone still gentle. “I get it. It’s just… weird. But I guess if anyone could survive this level of awkwardness, it’s us.”

“True,” you said with a grin, grateful for her ability to keep things light despite the situation.

—

From the other room, you heard the faint sound of Joel clearing his throat, and you felt your cheeks heat up again. Sarah gave you a knowing look but said nothing, letting the moment hang in the air.

Joel walked into the kitchen, his broad shoulders filling the doorway. He paused for a moment, his eyes scanning the scene in front of him. Sarah immediately stiffened, her back straightening as if she’d been caught doing something wrong.

“Everything okay in here?” Joel asked, his deep voice cutting through the tension like a knife.

“Yeah,” Sarah said quickly, her tone a little too bright. “Just catching up with her.” She gestured toward you, avoiding his gaze.

Joel’s eyes lingered on Sarah for a moment before shifting to you. His expression softened slightly, though there was still a guardedness in his demeanor. “Glad to see you out and about,” he muttered, his voice quieter now.

“Thanks,” you said, trying to sound casual even as your heart raced.

Joel walked over to the counter, refilling his glass of whiskey before turning back toward the two of you. Sarah’s discomfort was palpable, and you could feel the weight of her unspoken thoughts pressing down on the room.

“Well,” Joel said after a moment, breaking the silence, “don’t let me interrupt. Just wanted to grab this.” He raised his glass slightly, giving Sarah a quick nod before his gaze flicked to you again. “Good to see you, sweetheart.”

You nodded, swallowing hard as he turned and walked back toward the living room.

As soon as he was out of earshot, Sarah let out a breath she’d been holding. “Oh my god,” she whispered, leaning closer to you. “I can’t do this. That was so awkward.”

You bit your lip, trying not to laugh at her reaction. “It wasn’t that bad.”

Sarah gave you a pointed look. “It was so bad. He doesn’t know I know, does he?”

“No,” you admitted, glancing toward the living room. “And let’s keep it that way for now.”

“Agreed,” Sarah said, shaking her head. “This is officially the weirdest day of my life.”

•————

You hesitated before asking, trying to sound as casual as possible. “Hey, maybe I could crash here tonight? You know, like old times?”

Sarah froze, her fork mid-air, before setting it down and staring at you, her expression skeptical. “Uh… I don’t think that’s a good idea,” she said slowly.

You blinked, taken aback by her sudden shift in tone. “Why not? It’s been forever since we hung out like that.”

She sighed, her face tinged with discomfort. “Look, it’s not that I don’t love you or anything. I just—” She paused, choosing her words carefully. “After what you told me… I don’t think I’d be able to sleep knowing… I mean, what if something happens?”

You felt your cheeks flush with embarrassment, but you tried to laugh it off. “Sarah, come on. Nothing’s going to happen.”

She raised an eyebrow, crossing her arms. “Are you sure about that? Because the way you two have been acting lately… I don’t want to wake up and hear—or see—something I can’t unhear or unsee.”

“Sarah!” you exclaimed, mortified.

“Sorry, but I’m just being honest,” she said, her tone blunt but not unkind. “I need some time to process all this. You and my dad under the same roof right now? It’s… too much.”

You nodded slowly, feeling a knot form in your stomach. “I get it. I’ll head home.”

Sarah softened, reaching out to touch your hand. “It’s not that I don’t care about you. I just… I need to set some boundaries. For my sanity.”

“Yeah, I understand,” you murmured, forcing a small smile.

Sarah gave your hand a squeeze, her expression apologetic. “Thanks. And hey, let’s plan something soon. Just us, okay?”

“Okay,” you said, standing up to grab your things. But as you left, the uneasiness between you and Sarah lingered, leaving you to wonder if things would ever go back to how they used to be.

You were reaching for the doorknob when you felt a familiar warmth behind you, the faint scent of whiskey and aftershave letting you know exactly who it was.

“Heading out already?” Joel’s deep voice rumbled softly, making you pause.

You turned to find him standing close, his expression unreadable as his dark eyes searched yours. “Yeah,” you said quietly. “Sarah doesn’t think it’s a good idea for me to stay over.”

Joel’s jaw tightened slightly, and he glanced toward the living room, where Sarah was still sitting. He nodded, his gaze falling back to you. “I get it. She’s just lookin’ out for herself… and for you.”

You managed a small smile, though your chest felt heavy. “I know. It’s fine.”

Joel tilted his head, studying you for a moment before he stepped closer, his voice dropping lower. “You gonna be okay tonight?”

The sincerity in his question nearly broke you. You nodded, even though you weren’t entirely sure of the answer. “Yeah, I’ll be fine,” you lied.

His hand reached out, brushing lightly against your arm before he quickly pulled it back, his restraint evident. “If you need anything… you call me, alright? No matter the time.”

“Thanks, Joel,” you whispered, your voice trembling just enough for him to notice.

He stepped back, giving you space, but his presence still loomed as you opened the door and stepped outside. As the cool evening air hit your face, you glanced back one last time to see Joel watching you, his expression unreadable but his eyes filled with something that looked an awful lot like regret.

And then the door closed behind you, leaving you alone with your thoughts and the weight of everything unsaid.

-

Joel stood frozen by the door after it closed, staring at the spot where you had been just moments ago. His hand hovered near the doorknob, torn between his better judgment and the overwhelming urge to go after you.

He paced back and forth in the hallway, his fists clenching and unclenching as he wrestled with himself. What are you doing, Joel? he thought.

But the memory of the look on your face, that mix of vulnerability and longing, wouldn’t leave him. He hated the thought of you walking home alone, of you sitting in an empty house feeling the way you did.

He stopped pacing and stood still for a moment, running a hand over his face. This is wrong, he told himself, but his feet were already moving toward the door.

Joel’s hand gripped the knob, and he hesitated. He glanced back toward the living room, where Sarah was still distracted on her phone.

He sighed heavily, resting his forehead against the door. Dammit.

Finally, he turned the knob and stepped outside, scanning the street. You hadn’t gotten far—your figure was illuminated by the streetlight, walking slowly as if the weight of the world was on your shoulders.

“Wait,” Joel called, his voice low but urgent.

You stopped in your tracks, turning to see him striding toward you, his expression firm but his eyes soft.

“Joel?” you asked, confusion and a hint of hope lacing your voice.

He stopped just a few feet away from you, his hands resting on his hips as he exhaled sharply. “I couldn’t let you walk away like that,” he admitted, his voice gravelly. “Not after everything.”

You stared at him, unsure of what to say. The intensity of his gaze made your heart race, and for a moment, the world around you seemed to disappear.

Joel stepped closer, lowering his voice. “You shouldn’t be alone right now,” he said simply. “Let me drive you home.”

You hesitated, searching his face for answers. “Joel, you don’t have to—”

“I want to,” he interrupted firmly. “Let me do this.”

After a long pause, you nodded, the tension in your chest easing just slightly. Joel gestured toward his truck, and together, you walked in silence toward it, the quiet night holding unspoken words between you.

X

Joel started the engine, the quiet hum of the truck filling the air. He glanced at you, his lips curving into a shy smile when he caught you staring at him. “What?” he asked softly, his tone teasing.

You shook your head, a small smile tugging at your lips. “Nothing,” you murmured, settling back into your seat, though you couldn’t stop admiring him.

Joel chuckled, shifting the truck into gear and pulling away from the curb. “You always this quiet?” he asked, glancing at you again, his eyes warm.

“Maybe,” you replied playfully, letting the soft rhythm of the ride relax you.

Joel hummed in response, a faint smile still lingering on his face as he focused on the road. There was something comforting about the silence between you two—unspoken, but understood.

You rested your head against the window, stealing occasional glances at him as the streetlights cast fleeting shadows across his face. He looked so effortlessly handsome, so steady, and it warmed something deep inside you.

As the truck rolled through the quiet streets, Joel’s hand found its way to the console between you. Without thinking, you reached out, your fingers brushing against his. His hand shifted slightly, letting your touch linger, his warmth grounding you in the moment.

Neither of you said anything. There was no need. Whatever this was between you, it felt right. For now, that was enough.

•——

Joel drives you home in a comfortable silence, the sound of the radio filling the car. He glances over at you occasionally, his eyes lingering on your face for a moment before returning to the road.

As the drive continues, he can sense a change in the atmosphere. He notices the way you're looking at him, the hunger in your eyes that you're trying to hide.

He raises an eyebrow, a smirk tugging at the corners of his lips. "You're looking at me like you want to devour me," he teases.

You feel your cheeks flush at his words, but you don’t look away. Instead, a small smile plays on your lips as you respond softly, “Maybe I do.”

Joel chuckles, his grip tightening slightly on the steering wheel. “Careful, darlin’. Don’t start somethin’ you’re not ready to finish,” he murmurs, his voice low and rough.

The tension between you grows, thick and almost tangible in the confined space of the truck. You glance away, trying to focus on the passing scenery, but your thoughts are consumed by him—his voice, his presence, the way he fills every corner of your mind.

When he pulls up in front of your house, the engine quiets, leaving the two of you in a charged silence. Joel turns to you, his eyes dark and searching. “You alright?”

You nod, but your hesitation betrays you. “I’m fine,” you whisper, though your voice is shaky.

Joel leans back, studying you for a moment longer before reaching over to gently brush a strand of hair from your face. “You’re a terrible liar,” he says softly, his fingers lingering for just a moment too long.

Your heart races, and you struggle to find the right words. Instead, you lean into his touch, your eyes meeting his. The pull between you feels magnetic, undeniable.

But Joel clears his throat, pulling his hand back and glancing toward the house. “You should go on inside,” he says, though his voice carries a note of reluctance.

“I don’t want to be alone” you mumble

Joel’s eyes soften at your words, his jaw tightening as if he’s battling some internal struggle. He looks at you for a long moment, the weight of your vulnerability hanging between you.

“You don’t have to be,” he says finally, his voice low but steady.

You watch as he shuts off the engine, a silent decision made. He steps out of the truck and walks around to your side, opening your door for you. His hand extends, waiting for yours, and when you take it, his grip is firm but warm, grounding you.

He walks you to your front door, his presence solid and reassuring beside you. Once inside, the quiet of the house feels almost too loud, the emptiness pressing down on you. Joel seems to sense it, his hand brushing against the small of your back as if to remind you that he’s there.

You turn to him, your eyes searching his. “Stay. Just for a little while,” you say softly, your voice barely above a whisper.

Joel hesitates, his gaze flickering over your face. “This ain’t a good idea,” he mutters, but there’s no conviction in his words.

“Please,” you say, stepping closer. “Just… stay.”

His shoulders drop in defeat, and he sighs. “Alright, darlin’. Just for a little while,” he says, his voice gentle but firm.

You lead him to the couch, and he sits down beside you, the warmth of his body a comforting presence. For a while, neither of you speaks, the silence filled with the unspoken tension and the quiet hum of the night.

When you finally lean your head against his shoulder, he doesn’t pull away. Instead, his arm comes around you, holding you close as if to shield you from the weight of the world.

“Do you think my dad will ever come back?”

Joel’s arm tightens around you slightly, a heavy sigh escaping him. He’s quiet for a moment, as if choosing his words carefully. “I don’t know, sweetheart,” he finally says, his voice soft but honest. “He’s got a lot he’s dealin’ with right now.”

You nod against his shoulder, your throat tightening as the weight of his words sinks in. “I keep telling myself he won’t. That it’s easier to just… accept it,” you admit, your voice trembling.

Joel’s hand moves to your arm, his touch gentle as he rubs slow circles. “It ain’t easy, darlin’. Losing someone, even if they’re still out there, it hurts just as much.”

A lump forms in your throat, and you blink back the sting of tears. “I don’t know if I can handle losing him, Joel,” you whisper. “Not after losing my mom.”

Joel turns slightly, his other hand lifting to tilt your chin up so you’re looking at him. His eyes are full of understanding, of a pain that mirrors your own. “You’re stronger than you think,” he says, his voice firm but kind. “And you ain’t alone. You’ve got me. You’ve got Sarah. We’re not goin’ anywhere.”

His words hit something deep inside you, and for a moment, the dam holding back your emotions threatens to break. “Thank you,” you manage to whisper, your voice cracking.

Joel leans his forehead against yours, his presence grounding you. “Anytime, darlin’. Always.”

Joel leans in slowly, his face inches from yours, giving you a moment to pull away if you wanted. But you don’t. Instead, you close the distance, your lips meeting his in a soft, gentle kiss. The world seems to fade around you, the only thing that matters is the warmth of his touch and the comfort in his embrace.

He pulls back just slightly, his eyes searching yours, as if asking if it’s okay to go further. You don’t say anything, but the way you look at him answers the question.

Joel’s hand cups your cheek, his thumb brushing across your skin as he leans in again, this time deeper, with more intention. The kiss is tender, but there’s an undeniable spark between you two, a connection that’s impossible to ignore.

The tension between you two is palpable, the unspoken words heavy in the air. Joel's hand moves to your waist, pulling you closer, his touch both comforting and electrifying.

You don't pull away, leaning into him instead, craving the closeness and connection.

His lips trail down to your neck, sending a shiver through your body, and you gasp softly, your hands reaching up to tangle in his hair. It's clear that neither of you are willing to let go of this moment.

But even with the heat building between you, Joel pulls back just slightly, his gaze searching yours once more, as if making sure you're still certain. His voice is a low murmur, filled with a mix of desire and concern. "Are you sure about this?".

You meet his eyes, your own filled with a mixture of vulnerability and yearning. You don't need to say anything-your eyes speak the truth of what you want.

Joel studies your expression for a moment longer, his breath coming a little heavier as he takes in the silent affirmation in your eyes. Then, with a deep breath, he leans in again, his lips capturing yours with a softness that belies the intensity of the emotions simmering beneath the surface. His hands move to your back, pulling you closer as his kiss deepens, slow and careful.

He's gentle, making sure you're comfortable, but you can feel the heat building between you two as the moments stretch on. Every touch, every brush of his lips, every movement feels like it's pushing you both toward something inevitable, yet neither of you is rushing.

His fingers trace along your jawline, and you respond in kind, letting your hands roam to his chest, feeling the steady beat of his heart beneath your fingertips. The world outside the moment fades away, and for a while, it's just the two of you, lost in the feeling of connection.

You pull away from the kiss, your chest rising and falling as you take in a shaky breath. For a moment, you just stare at Joel, the weight of everything hanging between you, but then something shifts in your mind. You don’t need anything else right now. Not answers, not promises—just this closeness, this comfort.

You shift in his arms, settling against his chest, and let out a soft sigh as you rest your head there. His arms come around you, pulling you into a secure, warm embrace. You can feel his heartbeat beneath you, steady and calming, and it lulls you into a sense of peace you haven’t felt in a long time.

You don’t say anything else. Words feel unnecessary now. Instead, you let the silence settle between you, the quiet hum of the world outside only serving to make the moment feel more intimate.

As you drift off to sleep, Joel’s steady breathing is the last thing you hear, and for the first time in what feels like forever, you feel safe.