#I didn't make a lot of notes while I was reading sticky fingers

[cherrychilli]

18+ Eddie Munson x f! reader, idiot friends to lovers, not exactly a meet cute because they already know each other but it's also not not a naughty little meet cute if you get me, face sitting, 69 just not in the way you might think(yet), lots of horny flirting, mentions of blood, minor injury and one tiny meta reference I couldn't help but slip in. WC: 2K

Say what you will about Carol Perkins but the girl's got one hell of an arm. You stare with simmering contempt in your eyes at your purse wedged between the branches of an old, towering hickory several many feet above your head.

You're not surprised by it though. You expected some kind of retaliation after your little spat when you caught her trying to shoplift lip gloss at the cosmetics counter you worked at.

Word travelled fast after that, everyone snickering about how she tried to pull a Winona. Unfortunately for you, the incident wasn't enough to make her swear off five finger discounts. Her sticky little fingers managed to get hold of your purse when you had your back turned for only a few seconds the next day, a crudely scrawled note left behind which read, Come to the woods behind the school if you want your knock off Gucci back.

So you went there anticipating some fight club type of shit to go down. You really couldn't rule that out with a person like Carol, an old school bully to many who went to Hawkins High, especially those unlucky enough to have actually felt the fiery sting of her open palm against their cheek.

Only you were kind of looking forward to this meeting. Now a graduate and a little fired up yourself, you didn't need to worry about anything like a potential expulsion if you were to strike her back, fixing the rings on your fingers so that if you needed to, you could scratch open her chin when you uppercut the bitch.

But Carol wasn't there, a little to your disappointment. Only her handiwork left behind for you to deal with.

So now here you were, a crackling carpet of brittle yellowed and browned leaves crunching under your converse as you try to figure out the best way to go about retrieving your purse, hoping she hadn't also swiped any of the money inside it.

Looking around, you can't seem to spot a stick long enough to try and dislodge it, all of them far too short and skinny like bony witch fingers. The few rocks you try to aim at the thing missed every time too, purse still firmly in place.

So, you knew what needed to be done.

It's been a while since you last scaled a tree but you haven't forgotten how, hiking the skirt of your flared midi dress higher up your thighs while you reach for the closest branch, dry bark crumbling in your palms.

You're as careful as can be, taking your time to test every branch before you bear your full weight down on it, winding your way higher and higher up the thick gray trunk as you remind yourself to not look down.

Sweat beads down your back making your dress stick to your skin and your hands began to feel raw halfway through the climb so the relief you feel when you finally reach your purse is immense. Freeing one hand to pop open the clasp, you're able to confirm that Carol had in fact pinched a 50 which you very much intend to get back with interest before you toss her purse into the middle of lovers lake.

Clamping your teeth down on your purse, you begin your descent, following the exact path you took to get up it only you make it just a few inches lower when you hear a distinct dry snap followed by the shifty sound of footsteps. Two sets of footsteps making their way through the fallen leaves in fact.

Quietly, you sit yourself down on a thick branch that looks strong enough to hold you up, your legs dangling as you try to remain hidden behind the greener leaves yet to turn a shriveled yellow and break off from its branches. The thought of being caught like this is something you're not keen on. Especially at the risk of giving whoever it is an unobstructed up skirt view of your panties.

You hold your breath until they comes into view, recognition dawning on you when you set your eyes on the familiar combo of leather and denim and a very distinct tumbleweed of wild hair.

Eddie Munson, your old classmate and some letter jacket meat slab following in tow. The two of them sit across from each other at the formerly vacant wooden table and bench below, the tinny sound of Eddie's lunchbox echoing all the way up to your ears when he sets it down between them.

You watch quietly and closely at them going back and forth when Eddie quotes his price for a considerably large portion of the devil's lettuce all wrapped up in a thin, flimsy little plastic bag, a little amused seeing him all business and no jokes or smiles. There must be a party happening tonight, you deduce, that much weed too much for just the one person, even for a guy as big and hulking as Eddie's new customer.

The meat slab is the first to leave after digging through his pockets for a few extra dollars until Eddie hands him the stuff, trudging away through the crisp layer of dried up leaves until his footsteps turn muffled and then completely silent to let you know that he's no longer in the woods.

Eddie lingers for a few moments, apparently in no kind of rush as he takes his time closing up the lunch box, pulling out a cigarette and lighter as he gets up from the bench, just about to pass by your tree when-

crack!

The branch you'd perched yourself on wasn't as strong as you thought it to be when it snaps, a choked scream stuck in your throat with your teeth still wrapped around your purse when you lose your balance, your eyes squeezing shut as you plummet.

The impact knocks the wind out of you at first. Luckily you hadn't hit any of the other branches on your way down but a pulsing dull ache weaves it's way through your muscles, your palms and knees dirty and scraped up but your face seems to have landed on something much softer.

When you try to pick yourself up, you find yourself face to face with a pair of black denim jeans, the zipper somehow upside down as your hands press down on a pair of meaty thighs while you try to steady yourself.

You rock back just a bit, still trying to figure it all out with your head all spinny when feel your clothed pussy come to rest on something hard, a puff of hot air blown right into your panties with a muffled exclamation sounding out.

The way you scramble away is almost comical, so frantic like a severed gecko's tail when you figure out that you'd fallen right on top of Eddie, your face in his crotch and his in yours.

"Oh my god oh my god, I didn't mean to- are you okay? Eddie I'm so sorry!"

He's far less jittery than you are, propping himself up on his elbows with a little groan, leaves tangled in his hair, his lunchbox knocked onto its side behind him. The fall had made him bite his cigarette in two, one end lying on the forest floor before it's joined by the other when Eddie spits it out of his mouth. You manage to find his lighter nearby, picking it up and handing it back to him.

"Still in one piece", he pats his chest and he huffs a laugh, placing the lighter back inside his jacket pocket. "Could get used to this. It's not everyday that it rains pretty women."

The flirt. Just as he'd been with you in high school though you're not sure whether to be charmed or embarrassed given the circumstances. So both emotions manage to sneak in before you can decide on which one.

"I- my purse- Carol, see she tried to shoplift, right? I caught her and so my purse-", you find it just behind you, holding it up in front of Eddie's face as you continue to explain. "She lifted it before I could notice and she tossed it all the way up there," you point up at the spot you fell down from. "I slipped. I tried to stay quiet while you were busy but the branch broke and my foot slipped and..."

And what? "I'm sorry I sat on your face, Eddie? It won't happen again?" God, you felt so stupid right now.

"Woah woah, take a breath. It's not like I'm going to press charges or anything", he assures you.

You knew he wouldn't do anything of the sort. Eddie was always nice to you. Still is it seems, even after you so rudely and abruptly body slammed into him so damn hard. Maybe your luck's starting to turn. Or maybe it's just because he's in a good mood after a big sale... Yeah, that must be it.

Feeling a little better about the whole thing, you manage to get yourself back on to your feet even if a little unsteadily, holding a hand out to Eddie so you can help him up too. He accepts it at first but when his eyes fall to your knees his hand slips free from yours.

"You're bleeding", he notices.

Looking down, you see that he's right, two open cuts on both knees. Nothing serious but the blood is yet to clot, trailing down your legs in thin red lines and staining your socks.

You don't have anything on you to help dab it with, looking around when Eddie begins to shed his denim vest.

"It's clean, promise. Took it out of the laundry this morning"

The gesture is so sweet, watching him attentively as he kneels at your feet. You attempt to help too, picking the leaves out of his hair because it's the least you could do while he carefully cleans away the dirt on your skin. The feeling of his hand wrapping around your calf to steady himself is nice too, pressing the denim against your wounds so gently that you barely hiss at the sting.

"Doesn't look too bad. That's a good thing. You always had nice legs".

Your face could not feel any hotter than it already feels right now. At this angle, he might even be able to catch another glimpse or two up your skirt again but this time you don't mind at all. He's earned it.

"Thanks", you tell him with a smile, your toes curling in your socks because there's something so nice about being taken care of after the the whole thing with Carol that it makes you want to shiver with delight.

In the past you knew not to take him too seriously just in case he was only being nice to you but at the same time, Eddie was never one to be shy or less than honest about what he thought or said. Maybe you just had trouble accepting that and in turn, accepting that you were more than deserving of that kind of attention.

"You shouldn't be walking around like this. I could give you a ride if you're cool with that", he offers when he looks back up at you, the deep brown of his eyes now a light cinnamon with the sun spilling down on his face from between the branches.

"Yeah, I'd really appreciate that", you accept eagerly.

The drive back to yours is more than pleasant, though you'd never actually lost touch it was nice for two high school friends like you to reconnect on a new level. Eddie even joins you in trashing Carol a bit too though now you feel you might actually owe that thieving venom spitting cobra of a woman a little thank you.

What were the chances of this all happening? the both of you in the same place at the same time, your branch giving way the exact moment he got closer to you? no sooner, no later. Whatever the reason might be, today feels kind of special.

"Sorry I messed up your vest", you hold up the bloody thing tentatively when he pulls up outside your house.

"You kidding? 's the best its ever looked. Pretty hardcore"

You giggle at that, part of you realizing that you don't want to leave his van, trying to stall and find a reason to stay a little longer and keep whatever this is becoming going.

Eddie looks back at you pensively as you do so.

He doesn't want you to leave either. He thinks about how absurdly fast he'd gone from securing a deal like any other day to having his nose buried in your panties out of nowhere. If he doesn't act just as fast he might never get this opportunity again.

"Y' know, I wouldn't mind seeing even more of you next time", he smiles, somehow coming on more sweetly suave than sleazy like you would find any other man who would say so.

"Eddie Munson, you hound", you play scold him back, swatting him gently on the arm. Any excuse to touch him. You can't help noticing how nice and firm it feels under that dark layer of leather.

Honestly, Eddie's a little surprised himself that his charm's actually working too but manages to keep it up.

"So, what do you say? dinner? movie?", he suggests hopefully.

"Sure. Dinner, movie and then, when you come back to mine, maybe we can pick up where we left off from when I was on top of you", you wink back.

[user500269]

can you do more sub Francis mosses??

WANT THAT MAN TO BE FILLED TO THE BRIM AND WHIMPERING SKBDJDBDJC

sub! francis mosses x gn! reader

summary: making lots of milk with francis

wc: 1.8k

content warning: nsfw, lactation, francis in lingerie, feminization, milking, nipple play, overstimulation, dirty talk, porn with no plot, anal, cock can be seen as a strap, mention of cunt

author's note: thank u for the ask, anon :)) I LOVEEEE SUB FRANCIS guys. idk why this was so filthy. like i started writing this with no ideas and a dream (to finish this fanfic). anyways hope u enjoy this, ily guys !! not proof read, minors pleaseee dni !!

if you ever wondered how milk was made, here's how.

there sat your boyfriend in his cow-printed lingerie, all collared up, looking up at you with a bashful expression. his cock was painfully hard, barely contained in his panties.

"feel s'full, dovie..." francis moaned, squeezing his thighs together. he squirmed in his seat, barely containing himself. "milk me?"

he looked up at you with a seemingly innocent expression, but made such a lewd request with his hands cupping at his big chest. you tugged him by this leash, bringing him to his knees on the floor.

"you were so shy when you started making milk," you tugged at his nipple through the bra, slightly soaking the fabric with his milk. "now look at you. always looking so forward to making it f'me," you chuckled at the desperate look at his face.

"m-mhm, wanna make lots of milk for you, hngh...!" he nodded desperately, biting his lower lip to suppress his moans. his hands gripped at his knees, his bottom shaking in anticipation.

you took both nubs between your fingers, rubbing them. "just for me? did you forget this milk's for your neighbors, hm?" you tugged upwards again, making his eyes cross and his teeth grit in pleasure.

"hnghk!"

almost immediately, milk started to leak from his chest, spilling down the sides of his body. you slid the bucket by his waist, letting the droplets roll in.

"this is more than usual, francie," you peered into the bucket seeing a substantial amount of milk in the bucket already. "think i needa drink the leftover, yeah?"

you leaned over, lip pressed against the bra, looking up at his flushed face. his lower lip was quivering and you could hear the thumping of his heartbeat through his chest. "m'kay, hmmngh..."

you latched your lips around the fabric, sucking out the milk that drenched his bralette. your other hand slipped under to toy with his perky nipple.

you slid the fabric off his bouncy chest, admiring the pinkness of his nubs, soaked in his own milk. "oooghh...! t-there's so much, 's so, mmnGHH! so wet, so wet, nnnggh!"

"that's all you honey, taste so sweet f'me," milk was dripping of your chin as you sucked on his sopping wet nipple while pinching the other one.

you could visibly see francis' cock twitching in his cute, little panties at your words, humping the air as you suckled and toyed with his nubs. "aaaagh, 's really c-coming out, hGHK!"

whatever you just did made milk squirt out of his nipples, the substance spraying all over him and into your mouth. you looked up at him while you gulped the substance, fondling his free nipple soothingly.

"didn't know you could do that, honey," you pulled off his nipple with a pop, smirking up at him. he was slumped against the bed, cum sticking to his panties. "lots of milk down here too," you chuckled, rubbing your thumb over his slit through the fabric.

"h-hnnngh! s-sticky...feels, ngh, sticky, dovie..." francis pouted, grinding his bulge against your fingers for friction.

you tugged at his leash to ease his antsy behavior, a moan escaping his lips from the pressure around his neck. "none of that. such a slutty little boy, so eager to be milked, hm?" you cooed, feigning innocence.

he had little tears in his eyes, frowning at the way you scolded him. "'m sorry, dovie. jus' wanna cum lots for you, hm?" he leaned closer, his bottom lip puffed out and soaked.

"you're so pretty, honey. look so pretty in your panties," you continued to rub his slit, as francis collapsed into your hold. "y'gonna keep these on f'me, hm?" you began to stroke at his length, tilting your head down to see him shivering.

"unghh...uh-huh...'m gonna, gnnghh, gonna be good for you," he mindlessly babbled, nodding his head. the way you complimented him made his head swirl and his chest feel fuzzy.

"mhm, always such a pretty boy f'me. always such a good listener," you cooed, tugging his cock through the leg of his panties, stroking faster than before.

francis nodded, eyes rolled back with spit dripping down his lips. "mnngh, mhm...feels so good, dovie," his hand was pressed against your chest in attempts to stabilize himself.

"y'gonna give me lots of milk, right? my pretty princess gonna give me lots of milk, hm?" you squeezed the base of his cock, rubbing with more force.

he squeezed his eyes shut, still nodding at your words. his eyebrows furrowed, concentrating on cumming for you. "h-hnnGH, o-oh, might cum soon...! f-feel it c-coming, 'm cummin! oooghhHHH! cumming!" he moaned, shaking his head.

cum splattered on your shirt and his tummy as you slowed your hand. francis breathed heavily against you, little tears slipping down the sides of his face. "s-so, ghhh...good...."

"feeling alright, honey?" your hands slithered down to his waist, rubbing at his sensitive hips. he bucked them, twitching in your grasp.

"m-more, dovie, ngh...there's still lots of, m-milk left, please," he pleaded, weakly looking at you with tears in his eyes. he wanted you to milk him dry, until he couldn't walk anymore.

you smiled, pinching on his sides playfully. "on your hands 'n knees, honey."

he immediately knew what you meant, quickly getting into place. from the angle you were looking at him from, you could see his erect cock pressed against his flushed tummy and his outline of his balls in his all too tight panties.

"you're so cute, francie," you fondled his balls, making him squirm at your touch.

he groaned, lips pursed into an 'o' at the action. "o-oghhhh...t-there's no milk in there, ngh," he protested, his hips shaking at the way you groped him.

"there's a ton of milk in here. look," you squeezed his balls, cum squirting out of his dick into the bucket you skillfully placed underneath of him.

"HNNNGHK!"

he hated how embarrassingly loud the high-pitched squeal he let out was. he felt like the entire apartment complex could hear the way his moans. but it's not like he minded, he wanted every one to know how good you were making him feel.

"look at you squirting like a pretty princess today, huh francie? such a cute little hole here," you toyed with his slit, making him jolt.

he came three times in such a short amount of time, but he still had more in him. "look at how this one's throbbing for something in here," you removed your hand from his cock to circle your thumb around his pulsing hole.

it was a pretty shade of pink, fucked into so many times that it was basically vertical like a cunt. you rolled your thumb over the wetness of his hole, slipping it in teasingly.

"h-hnk! w-want your cock in here, dovie..." he shook his hips slightly, pressing his backside into your finger to dig deeper than it currently was.

you smirked at his pleading expression, pulling your thumb in. he whined at the emptiness, but squealed out a moan when your pointer and middle fingers plunged back into his hole.

"o-oonngh! s-so deep...!" he threw his head back, eyes rolled to the back of his head.

your fingers jammed so deeply that they just barely nudged his prostate, making him squeal from the sensation. he felt tingles all over his body, blood rushing to the tips of his toes.

"this loose cunt doesn't need preppin', huh? 's soakin' in here," you teased, rubbing the tip of your fingers against that special spot. you were knuckles deep in his hole, he was more than ready.

"i-i can, unngh! take it, dovie! p-prepped myself before, hnnnggGHH!"

you pulled out roughly, spanking his ass roughly with your free hand. you quickly pulled your cock out, stroking it with your slick-covered hand. "of course you would expect more than just milking, greedy boy."

"'m sorry, dovie, i-i jus', ooOGH!"

francis threw his head back, he could see stars when your cock pressed deeply into his cunt. he tightened around you, sucking you in deeper.

you paid no mind to his whimpered, thrusting into him wildly. his jaw went slack, tongue spilling out of his mouth coating his saliva. spit dripped down his chin as his head shook every time you thrusted back into him.

"such a needy little princess. so greedy for my cock, huh?" you tugged harshly at the leash, making him tense up from the pressure around his throat.

he was panting like a dog, but being milked like a cow. he came for the fourth time, squirting all over the ground, completely missing his designated bucket.

"oooNNGH! s-so, fuck, deep!" he mewled out, hearted thumping out of his chest from all the pleasure he was feeling. his tip was throbbing red, tired from cumming so much. but the cum bubbling in his tummy made him think otherwise.

as you tugged at his collar, your free hand reached down to fondle with his nipple. there was still milk spilling out of his tits, dripping down to his tummy, mixing with his cum.

"hnnNGHK! yesyesyes, c-cum in me dovie, please! hnnghh!" he babbled, as you rutted into his cum-filled hole. you cummed long before but he didn't notice until he was filled to the brim with your seed.

you continued to fuck cum deep into his tummy, so deeply that you could see the outline of your cock. "f-fuck, you're so needy today, honey," you grunt, squeezing his tit.

"trained these tits so well. milkin' so much f'me now," you flicked his buds, milk spilling out. this was the second time he squirted from his nipples in one night.

you were slowly losing stamina, despite cumming less than francis. francis was fully fucked with your cum, but still had so much left in him. his breasts were filled with milk and cock still begging for more release.

his mind was so hazy, face flushed from the endless orgasms. you pulled out of his hole, watching the cum seep out. it filled his inner walls generously, so much that it was dripping down his inner thighs.

"n-no! why'd you, hnghh, pull out, dovie?" he whined, shuffling back to stuff himself full of your cock.

when he sat on your cock, even more cum spilled out, dripping on the floor. you roughly sat him down on your lap, his back pressed against your chest.

francis started to grind his hips against your cock, but you shook your head. "no moving honey," you growled, fingers gripping at his hips to still his movements to force him to cock warm you. he really thought he could get away with breaking the rules.

"no...moving, hngh?"

your nails slightly scratched against his chest, little to no milk squirting out now. he almost out of milk. unfortunately for him, as revenge, when you regain your stamina, you wouldn't give him a break.

francis was in for a long night of milking.

[bamfkeeper]

Sticky.

RQ: 'Another idea I had was more NSFW, that being a passionate sexual experience with him (the reader can be G/N, afab, amab, or whatever you choose), of which ends with him “releasing” his fluids onto the reader’s torso from the reader pleasuring his area (depending on the reader you choose there can also be other fluids), of which Kurt falls upon when he’s finished. Since both of them are now sticky and whatnot, they decide to take a shower after they have recovered for a minute. Their time in the shower would consist of them washing and rubbing each other and doing slow and lazy romantic and sexual touches, though nothing as explicit as before. It’ll be fun to read Kurt washing / rubbing the reader with his hands and tail, while the reader is feeling down his wet fur. If you want to do something less NSFW, you could do them making out outside, of which they get dirty and then need to take a shower (though I admittedly prefer the more NSWF one 😈). Thanks for your consideration!' - @hulkingharbor

Pairing: Kurt Wagner x GN!reader // Warnings: Smut 18+ | Suggestive scenes, sex aftermath

A/N: I decided to start it at the end of a passionate night, I have a lot of smut requests so I am trying to balance it out. BUT, I didn't just want it to be sfw. So I put in a little tease at the beginning <3 Unedited. WC: 1.9k

"Bitte! I-I'm close," Kurt whined as you stroked him from your laid position, his poor legs could barely hold himself up as the pleasure shot through his body so intensely. "Aah! m-mein Gott....nngh," he gently bucked into your strokes, his face flushed violet as his pants grew heavier and quicker.

"Come for me, baby...I know you want to..." you encouraged in a sultry voice, making Kurt whimper desperately in response. His hips jerked up steadily to meet your hand's movements, his breathing picked up in short, quick huffs as he felt himself throb and grow hot. His poor body didn't know what to do, he held onto the sheets tightly as he thrusted up against your teasing hand. His cock throbbed and twitched as your hand stroked him, you knew he was going to burst any second now.

"I am going to..." Kurt swallowed the thick lump in his throat as he felt himself seize, his eyes widening before rolling back and he let out the most pleasurable sounds imaginable, your name intertwined with them. His bottom lip trembled as his cock twitched in your palm, shooting out sprits of white cum all over his chest and abdomen. Rope after hot rope came from his blushed tip until the strong shots turned into pitiful pearls beading and dripping thickly down his length and onto your fingers.

His chest rose and fell with the aftermath, he let out a soft mewl as you slowly drug your hand up his cock, pulling out any remaining beads of cum hidden away. His body quivered with lingering pleasure as he lay spent on the bed, exhausted yet content. He remained motionless, allowing the afterglow to wash over him. As he gradually regained his composure, you nestled beside him, your presence a comforting warmth against his side.

You began to trail a series of gentle, unhurried kisses across his face, your lips softly caressing his forehead, cheeks, and the tip of his nose. Kurt responded with a low, appreciative hum, almost resembling a purr, his eyes fluttering closed as he surrendered himself to your loving ministrations. The tension in his muscles slowly ebbed away, replaced by a deep sense of relaxation and contentment.

"Ah...liebe..." he whispered, his hand releasing the sheets and holding your forearm instead. You laid with him and slowly ran your fingers through his hair as he recovered from his orgasm, Kurt's breathing slowly returned to normal and he sighed. "Ach...I am klebrig." He noted, feeling the cum seep into his fur and dry slightly.

You chuckled softly at him, taking in his disheveled appearance. It did make him look quite a mess, you had to admit, and if you were being completely honest with yourself, there was something undeniably attractive about his current state. The tousled hair, the flushed indigo skin, the slight sheen of sweat clinging to his velvety fur - all evidence of your shared passion. However, as enticing as he looked, you were both thoroughly spent for the night, having indulged in each other's company to your hearts' content. You were sure you looked just about the same.

"Yeah, you certainly are a sight," you teased gently, your voice warm with affection. "Let's go take a shower and clean up properly. After that, I promise we can snuggle all you want." You encouraged him to get up, offering a hand to help him off the bed. He met your gaze with tired but contented eyes, a lopsided smile slowly spreading across his face as he nodded in agreement.

As he took your hand and slowly rose to his feet, you couldn't help but chuckle at his unbalance. Even in his exhausted state, there was something endearing about the way he moved, even if he was a bit unsteady from your earlier activities. The prospect of warm water cascading over your bodies, washing away the remnants of your lovemaking, followed by cuddling close in clean sheets, seemed absolutely perfect.

You started the shower, carefully adjusting the temperature and letting the water warm up to a comfortable level before gently stepping in with him. You both simply stood there, savoring the sensation of the hot water cascading down your bodies for several minutes. The steam rose around you, enveloping you both in a warm, misty cocoon as you stood close together, relishing in the intimate moment and the soothing warmth against your skin.

After a while, you both decided it was time to begin washing, you didn’t want anyone complaining about no hot water in the morning. Your hands instinctively reached for his body wash, popping the cap and squeezing a generous amount onto your palm, the fresh scent immediately filling the shower. Your hands touched his chest and you began to lather the soap on him, your fingers gliding smoothly over his skin and through his soft fur, appreciating the textures beneath your fingertips.

Kurt exhaled with a contented sigh, his lips curving into a warm smile as you diligently worked the soap into his fur. The gentle massage of your fingers turned the soap into a sea of white, foamy bubbles that clung to his coat. His eyes sparkled with mischief as he watched you, clearly enjoying the attention. "You like this, ja? It seems you can't keep your hands to yourself," he teased, his voice laced with playful smugness as you continued your thorough cleansing.

You couldn't help but roll your eyes at his comment, though a small smile tugged at the corners of your mouth. "Oh, please," you retorted, your tone a mix of exasperation and amusement. "You're the one who's messy. I'm simply fulfilling my duties as your partner by cleaning you up. After all, I am, technically, responsible for getting you into this state in the first place." As you spoke, your hands moved lower, your eyes glued on his face as his smirk faltered a bit.

"So be good and stay still for me, ja?" You whispered, your hands gently gliding down his legs, taking care to clean every inch with meticulous attention. Your touch was soft yet purposeful as you slowly and carefully cleaned between them, ensuring no area was missed. Kurt swallowed hard, his body tense but obedient as he remained motionless for you. His tail sought comfort by wrapping itself around your ankle, an affectionate gesture, but also one to keep the thing from flicking and thrashing behind him.

He couldn't remember the last time he was cleaned, not so tenderly and lovingly anyway. You worked slowly and thoroughly, making sure every crevice was cleaned on him. You stood back up, his soft, golden eyes on you as he watched with a newfound look of innocence and vulnerability. You knew he had grown up a bit...differently, the details weren't set in stone, but by how he stood there and looked at you there was enough to go off of.

"All done, did that feel good baby?" You rinsed your hands under the shower head and reached up to cup his face, thumbs rubbing over his cheekbones in gentle strokes. Kurt leaned into your hands immediately and he sighed contently, blinking slowly before allowing his eyes to fully close and enjoy the moment.

"Ja...es war gut." His gentle voice rang through the shower, hitting your ears over the sound of the running streams of water pouring down your bodies. His tail unwrapped from you and moved higher on your body, he opened his eyes once again, emitting a gentle glow in the dimmer bathroom light. "Your turn."

His hands slowly lathered your own wash, carefully guiding them over your skin with a delicate touch. He washed you with the same tenderness you had shown him earlier, his movements a perfect reflection of the love and care you had. The warmth of his hands and the soothing sensation of the soap nearly put you to sleep standing there.

"You are so perfect, liebe...so utterly perfect," Kurt murmured, his voice low and filled with adoration. His words hung in the steamy air, emphasizing the depth of his feelings for you. As he continued to wash you, Kurt placed soft, feather-light kisses along the back of your neck, each one a testament to his affection. His tail caressed and soothed your hips, the spade gently moving up and down your skin.

After you both finished cleaning up, you stepped out of the shower together, ready to dry off. As you held up a large towel, preparing to wrap it around Kurt, you noticed his body tense slightly. His eyes widened, and he shook his head emphatically. "No, NEIN, don't you dare-" you began, your voice a mix of amusement and mock horror.

Kurt suddenly transformed into a furry whirlwind, shaking his entire body vigorously, like a dog fresh from a bath. Water droplets flew in every direction, creating a miniature rainstorm in the bathroom from his shaking. You let out a surprised yelp, frantically trying to use the towel as an impromptu shield against the unexpected deluge. "Kurt!!" you shouted, your voice a blend of shock and laughter as you attempted to dodge the spray of water.

After a few seconds, Kurt's impromptu performance came to an end. The damn showman he was. He stood there, looking quite pleased with himself, his fur now a chaotic mess of spikes and tufts where it was longer. Some areas stuck up at odd angles, giving him a comically disheveled appearance. A mischievous grin spread across his face, showcasing his pride in the playful havoc he had just wreaked.

You couldn't help but shake your head in amused exasperation, a fond smile playing on your lips as you gently ruffled his hair with the towel. His fur still damp and slightly disheveled, eyes blinking owlishly as he shook his head in response to your ministrations to let his curly hair fall naturally after the ruffling you gave him. A quiet chuckle escaped you as he did so, his expression and mannerisms never ceased to make you smile.

"You're not dry yet, you know," you murmured, your voice tinged with a mixture of amusement and care. You continued your task, methodically running the towel over his body. Your hands moved with a tender efficiency, carefully working to absorb the remaining moisture from his fur. You were honestly surprised he stood still for you, considering the way his tail knowingly flicked behind him.

As you felt his fur gradually becoming less damp under your touch, a sense of satisfaction washed over you. Finally, when his coat felt mostly dry beneath your fingertips, you stepped back to admire your handiwork. A fond grin spread across your face as you took in his slightly rumpled appearance, affection bubbling up in your chest. "There," you said softly, your eyes twinkling with mirth, "All dry now, you adorable dork."

He pouted lightly, his lower lip protruding slightly as he mumbled, "I'm not a dork. That's an unfair accusation."

"You are, actually, a huge dork," you teased him back, a playful grin spreading across your face as you observed his adorable pout. Your eyes sparkled with mischief as you continued, "But don't worry, it's one of the many things I find endearing about you. Now come on, I believe I promised you some quality cuddling time, and I intend to make good on that promise."

His eyes gleamed with excitement and he eagerly followed you out of the room, his pout now a happy smile. He trailed behind you towards the bedroom, ready to indulge in the promised cuddles.

Thanks for reading.

*BAMF*

Dividers by @/adornedwithlight

Cover Images: Uncanny Spider-Man (2023), Pinterest

[augustwinesworld]

in love with “I look in peoples windows”

if you’re willing to share do you have any headcanons about Noah 🥹 since he’s also kinda unconscious, what kind of kid is he? What type of relationship does he have with his mom? What is he obsessed with/are his interests ?

i just want to know more about these characters you’ve created!!!

𝐢 𝐥𝐨𝐨𝐤 𝐢𝐧 𝐩𝐞𝐨𝐩𝐥𝐞'𝐬 𝐰𝐢𝐧𝐝𝐨𝐰𝐬—𝐬𝐩𝐞𝐜𝐢𝐚𝐥 𝐡𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐜𝐚𝐧𝐨𝐧

What if your eyes looked up and met mine one more time?

series description: 

pairing: dr. michael robinavitch x  female ob/gyn attending! reader

genre: hidden pregnancy…maybe?

notes: Hiiiii, omg I am so sorry it took so long to answer this! I had a lot of shit going on last week, so I didn't write anything (and wasn't planning to tbh). Between exams, a three day opening event at the gallery, my birthday, and some other things I was very much overwhelmed. But finally, this headcannon is complete and I hope you like it<3<3

NEWS FLASH! : NEW CHAPTER WILL BE COMING OUT THIS SUNDAY, 18/05

word count: 2.1 k.

extra: moodboard | playlist | ☆:**:. 𝐰𝐢𝐧𝐞 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐝𝐢𝐧𝐞 .:**:.☆ 

Feel free to #𝐜𝐚𝐥𝐥 𝐦𝐞 (◕‿◕✿) *:･ﾟ✧ if you have any scenarios in mind! I might not write everything but I’ll respond to everyone.

series masterlist: 𝐢 𝐥𝐨𝐨𝐤 𝐢𝐧 𝐩𝐞𝐨𝐩𝐥𝐞'𝐬 𝐰𝐢𝐧𝐝𝐨𝐰𝐬

Noah used to be obsessed with Dinosaur King:

The cards, the DVDs, the battered Nintendo DS game with the cracked hinge. His room is still a shrine to it: plushies arranged like sentries on the bookshelf, the limited-edition holo cards in a binder under his bed. Legend has it the only thing that soothed him as a colicky baby was the sound of Jurassic Park playing in the background—Mom swears by it, even if he now covers his eyes during the T. rex scene (but peeks through his fingers).

But that was, you know, a year ago. Back when he was a kid. Now he rolls his eyes and says things like “I outgrew it,” but the second someone gets a dinosaur fact wrong—like claiming Velociraptors were the size of humans—he’ll practically combust. He’ll start with a scoff, then a “That’s not even close,” and launch into a very serious correction, complete with citations. Then he’ll go back to pretending he doesn’t care, cheeks a little pink.

He plays junior hockey, has from a very young age, but only started playing in a team three years ago. The ice is the one place where all the noise in his head seems to hush. He wears his Pittsburgh Penguins every game day, knows the team’s stats better than his times tables, and can name every position on the ice. 

Noah plays center, because of course he does—he’s the kind of kid who needs to know where everyone is, what’s coming next, and how to quietly keep things from falling apart. Center demands focus, balance, foresight; it gives his overactive brain a job and his anxious heart a place to breathe. He’s not the fastest on the ice, but he sees things—reads the play like a puzzle, always thinking three moves ahead. It’s the one place he doesn’t feel too much--it’s just enough.

The rink smells like cold rubber and somebody’s gross old socks. It’s loud, too—like whistles and stomping and parents yelling even though no one can really hear them over the buzz of the ice machines. 

Noah squints under the bright lights as he adjusts his helmet. It’s too tight. Again. “You’re gonna squish my brain,” he told Mom this morning, wrinkling his nose while she buckled the strap. She just kissed his forehead and said, “Squished brains make better decisions.” Dumb. A bit lame. But still kinda funny. He laughed.

Logan skates up and shoves him, grinning. “Race you to the bench after,” he says.

“Last time you tripped.”

“Did not.”

“Did too.”

They bump shoulders. No one's mad. Logan makes a gagging noise.

“Ugh, dude, you smell like syrup.”

Noah shrugs. “Had pancakes.”

“Yeah, I can tell. You’re like, sticky through your gear.”

“You’re just mad 'cause your mom made oatmeal again.”

Logan scowls. “That was private.”

They both start giggling, helmets clacking as they lean into each other, the kind of laugh that gets stuck in their throats.

Coach then shouts something about spacing and lines from the other side of the ice, but it’s kind of whatever. Noah just nods. He knows the basics: chase the puck, don’t fall, pass to Milo if he’s waving his arms around like crazy. He wipes his glove across his mouthguard and spits onto the rubber mat. Feels cool doing it. Like a real player.

The ref drops the puck.

He goes.

The ice makes that squeaky sound under his blades. His lungs burn, in a good way. He doesn’t see Mom, but he knows she’s watching. She always is. She claps louder than everyone, even yells his name sometimes—Noah hates that part—but today, when he glanced up at warm-ups, she was smiling with her hand over her mouth, talking to Logan’s dad. Mr. Harper. He’d laughed at something she said and leaned in a little. He’s standing kinda close. Like...close.. Noah doesn't know why he noticed. Or why it made his stomach feel weird. He just skates harder.

He wants her to watch. Just her.

LOOOOOVES boardgames. Especially the ones with many rules that his mom can’t understand so he has to explain with the utmost patience.

His routines. He likes knowing that every Friday night means takeout and a movie, or that Mom will play with his hair, leaving one or two braids hidden behind his hair after a bath if he’s tired. These things soothe the low hum of anxiety he doesn’t always have words for. Also, pancakes for dinner every Sunday. Chocolate chips for him and blueberries for mom. 

He shuts down emotionally under pressure. Especially if he’s scared or feels like he’s disappointed someone. So he might say, “I’m fine,” and then refuse to make eye contact for the rest of the night.

He gets jealous. Especially when it comes to his mom. If someone takes up her time—whether work, or even a friend—he might act out in subtle ways. Maybe he interrupts more. Maybe he pretends to “need” something he really doesn’t.

Milo’s sitting at the kitchen island, feet swinging, watching Noah’s mom slice apples like she’s doing magic.

“That smells so good,” he says, wide-eyed as she pulls cookies from the oven. “You should open a bakery or something.”

Noah stiffens. “She’s just making snacks,” he mutters.

His mom laughs, brushing flour from her cheek. “Milo, you’re sweet. But trust me, no one would buy cookies shaped like blobs.”

“She’s so nice,” Milo whispers to Logan, who’s already elbow-deep in the cookie plate.

Noah hears it. Hears all of it. And suddenly he’s on the verge of dying. “Mom,” he says loudly, climbing onto the stool beside her, “my throat kind of hurts.”

She turns to him, brow knitting. “Oh? Do you feel sick?”

“No,” he says, too fast. “But maybe you could make tea? Like the one with the honey and the—” He pauses, glancing at Milo.“—the kind you only make for me.”

There’s a beat. His mom looks at him for a second too long. Then she nods, brushing his bangs from his forehead. 

“Alright. Tea for the patient.”

Milo tries to ask her another question—something about the cookies—but she’s already moved to the kettle.

Noah shoots him a look. Not mean. Just... his. 

Like: mine.

Logan, clueless, stuffs another cookie into his mouth. “You’re so weird, dude.”

Noah shrugs, smug now. His mom's back was to Milo, and that’s what mattered.

He can be bossy with other kids. Especially younger ones. He thinks he’s just being “helpful,” but really he hates chaos and wants everyone to do what makes sense to him. This is when his dad’s rigidity shows up.

He’s prone to catastrophizing. He once got a B on a math quiz and whispered, “I’ll never get into a good school”—and he was only nine. A stomach ache? “What if it’s cancer.” Therapy’s been helping him name the spirals when they start, but they’re still real: fast, quiet, and hard to steer once his brain starts running.

A mildly anxious, overthinker. He overthinks, he spirals sometimes, but he's learning. He doesn’t always say it out loud, but it shows in the way he chews his sleeve or double-checks things that don’t need checking. And when he does speak up, he might say, “You should’ve called,” instead of “I missed you,” but the meaning still lands.

The house is quiet when you open the door—but not quiet enough. The TV is still on, humming low in the living room, and the lamp beside the couch casts a low glow. Your mother is passed out under a blanket, one slipper dangling off her foot.

You step further in, careful not to wake anyone. Then you hear it: the soft shuffle of bare feet on tile.

“Noah?”

He appears in the hallway, pajama pants wrinkled, hair flattened on one side. He’s holding his stuffed raptor by the neck, thumb pressed to the seam where the stitching came loose last week. His eyes are wide, but not upset. Just…watchful.

“You were gone a long time,” he says. Not accusing—just stating the facts. His voice is quiet. Even.

“I know, baby,” you say, setting your bag down by the door. “There was a delivery. Complications. I got stuck longer than I thought.”

He nods, like he’s tucking that away somewhere—filing it, the way he always does. You can see the questions lining up behind his eyes—how bad were the complications? did the baby make it? what if it happens again?—but he doesn’t ask.

He glances at the clock. “It’s really late.”

“I didn’t mean to scare you.”

“I wasn’t scared,” he says, chewing the edge of his sleeve. “I just thought maybe something happened.”

You cross to him and crouch down, brushing his hair gently back. He leans into your hand, just a little, like something in him finally lets go.

“I’m okay,” you say softly. “You can always call me. Even if Grandma’s here.”

He nods again. A pause.

“I checked the front door twice,” he says. No smile, just the truth of it. A quiet ritual. A way to feel safe.

You kiss his forehead. “I’m proud of you.”

And he holds your hand all the way down the hall.

He picks up on things quickly—tones, looks, when something’s off. He’s the kind of kid who’ll go quiet when a room turns tense, or who’ll suddenly say, “Are you mad at each other?” when no one’s said a word. It’s not precocious, just… tuned-in. Like someone who’s had to watch carefully, who’s learned to read the air before stepping into it.

Kind but grounded. He has his mom’s warmth and sense of care—the kind of kid who offers his snack to someone who forgot theirs, or comforts a crying classmate—but he also knows when to draw a quiet boundary. He might say, “I think we need space right now,” the same way his mom would calmly de-escalate a tense room.

Funny in a dry, observational way. Robby’s sarcasm filtered through a 9-year-old’s lens. Not mean-spirited, just blunt. He might deadpan when someone tries to fix something with duct tape, then go help anyway.

The pizza place smelled like garlic and the floor was sticky in some spots, but Noah didn’t mind. He liked this kind of busy—clinking plates, soda fountains hissing, Logan talking with his mouth full across the table. He liked it even more when his mom was here, sitting next to him, her jacket still zipped halfway up from the cold outside.

She was smiling politely. Again.

Logan’s dad had been talking for what felt like forever—mostly about the game, a little about his job (something boring, Noah couldn’t remember), and now about how impressive it was that she managed to come straight from work to the rink, and still had energy to take the boys out to eat.

“I’m just saying,” he added, leaning back in the booth like he’d landed a punchline. “If there were a Hockey Mom Hall of Fame, you’d be in it. With a statue and everything.”

Noah stared at him. Then turned slowly to his mom. She looked like she was trying not to laugh—or maybe trying not to roll her eyes. Hard to tell.

“She’s not even a hockey mom,” Noah said, voice flat. “She doesn’t even know the rules.”

His mom choked on her water. Logan giggled into his Sprite.

Logan’s dad blinked. “Well—I mean, she shows up. That’s the important part, right?”

Noah didn’t answer. He just took a bite of pizza, deadpan. Chewed. Swallowed.

Then: “Statues are weird.”

There was a pause. The kind adults make when they’re trying to figure out if a kid just insulted them. His mom reached under the table and squeezed his knee gently.

“You okay?” she murmured.

Noah shrugged. “Mhm.” He took another bite.

He wasn’t mad. Not exactly. He just didn’t like the way Logan’s dad kept looking at her, like she was extra impressive for being tired and kind and good at things. Like that was rare. Noah already knew that. He didn’t need someone else pointing it out like it was a surprise.

Across the table, Logan slurped from his straw way too loudly before adding, “Dad, are you trying to be embarrassing, or does it just happen naturally?”

His dad raised his hands in mock offense. “Hey, I’m charming. This is peak dad charisma.”

Logan snorted. “You sound like the car guy on TV. The one who yells and wears too much tanning lotion.”

Noah, still chewing, finally cracked a smile.

Logan’s dad looked over at Noah’s mom like see what I deal with? but she was just sipping her water, amused and entirely unsurprised.

Noah leaned into her side a little, just enough to feel her shoulder against his. Statues were weird. But this? This was fine.

Protective, especially of his mom. He doesn’t always understand what’s going on between her and Robby, but he feels it. If he thinks someone—especially his dad—is upsetting her, he doesn’t lash out; he just gets quiet and watchful. He notices everything, even when he doesn’t say it.

taglist: @snowflames-world, @nosebeers, @midnghtprentiss, @delicatetrashtree, @thestrals-and-firewiskey, @rosiepoise88, @miss-me-jack, @jojodojo02, @whimsicalfungiforager, @whos6claire, @melsunshine, @foolishseven, @misshoneypaper, @iceb1ink1uck, @kmc1989, @vlightning95, @girl-who-loves-books, @qardasngan, @madprincessinabox, @equallyshaw, @memoriesat30, @justobsessedwithyou,

© AUGUSTWINESWORLD : no translation, plagiarism, or cross posting.

[ashen-char]

lights, camera, action 🔞

my masterlist, to check out my other works, is here

content: explicit smut, OnlyFans content creation, pussy inspection :)

summary: your girlfriend, max, has an OF and you're her lucky co-star

word count: 1200+

notes: requested here a long time ago and i've tried to write this au a LOT with a bunch of different ideas. so look out for future parts of this. OF-girl!Max i love you so much

You lay naked on the bed, flushed and breathless. Your chest heaves and your lungs feel like they're burning but it's worth it. So, so worth it to belong to her.

You're not used to bottoming. Usually you prefer Max's thighs squeezing your face as you lap at her, bringing her to the edge over and over. But Max had complained that her OnlyFans followers (or subscribers, as she corrected you once) kept calling her a bottom, a pillow princess. And while your sweet, lovely girl is many things (a pillow princess definitely being one of them), she is stubborn to a fault and with this constant need to prove herself. Not that she ever needs to prove anything to you or her followers.

So she flicked the camera on, and her fingers ruined you again and again. Max had told you that she got her nails clipped just for you to feel nice and special. Ever since she started her OnlyFans, she realised how important it is to keep some things personal. To feel like your relationship is still between the two of you even if it's plastered online, both on her Twitter for promo and on OnlyFans (for a very affordable deal of $5 a month!).

Now in the aftermath, you feel raw and exposed. Every inch of your skin is hyper-aware of her touch, of her eyes physically on you and the hundreds that will eventually see this. Curiously, you wonder if this is how Max always feels. After filming, after you rearrange her insides with a strap, after obsessively reading all her comments. Max's eyes roam over your body, dark with lust and possessiveness.

"Spread your legs for me, baby," she commands, her voice low and rough. "I want to see what my fingers did to you."

You obey without hesitation, parting your thighs to reveal your most intimate places. Max kneels between your legs, her gaze zeroing in on your pussy.

"Fuck, look at that pretty little cunt," she groans, reaching out to spread your lower lips open with her fingers. "So pink and swollen, just like I imagined."

You squirm at her touch, at her words that are so much filthier when the camera's rolling. You're still sensitive and you tell her as much, hissing "careful" as she peels apart your sticky labia.

"I know, I know." Max's fingers are gentle but firm, exposing you to both her hungry gaze and her lens. "Your hole's so cute," she murmurs, circling your entrance with the tip of her finger. "Puffy and stretched out. You were made for me, weren't you?" She giggles. "Made for the camera too. You're a natural, baby!"

You bite your lip, a whimper escaping your throat. Max's words turn you on almost as much as her touch. You can feel yourself growing wet again, your body responding despite the tender ache between your thighs.

"Gonna take some pics too," Max announces, grabbing her phone. "Want to remember this perfect pussy."

Excited, she positions herself between your spread legs, the camera aimed directly at your core. Your heart races, wondering if you bit off more than you could chew when you promised to help her make content all those months ago. You hadn't quite imagined this situation. At most, you thought you'd help her use her toys, keep the camera angled right. Fluff her pillows or something, you didn't know! Eventually, Max convinced you to co-star.

You've never done anything like this before, never let anyone see you so intimately, in such a debauched and ruined state. Hell, you don't think you've been this ruined before. But with Max, it feels right. Natural, even. You trust her completely.

"Smile for me, baby," Max encourages, snapping a few shots. "Show me how much you love having your hole photographed."

You groan but manage a shaky grin, your cheeks burning with embarrassment and an odd sense of pride. You don't think your pussy is anything special but Max seems to and she's the professional. Besides, you've seen what she posts (and the nudes you received way before her OF hustle) so you know she'll make it art.

"Who says I love this?" you mutter under your breath, "I'm only doing this for you." But still, you take initiative and spread yourself wider, giving Max and her fans the best possible view. And in return, she hums approvingly, zooming in close to capture every detail. Under the ring lights and her scrutiny, you feel thoroughly inspected.

"Fuck, your little clit is so cute," she remarks, shifting the focus. "All puffy and begging to be sucked."

"Shut up and do it already," you whimper, hips twitching involuntarily.

You want it. You hadn't known you'd want it, not this much. Normally when Max is underneath you, the thoughts of your own pleasure are secondary. It's enough to make her feel good. But this is another need entirely, an itch that won't be satisfied until her mouth is between your legs again.

Max chuckles. "Patience, baby," she murmurs, moving back up to your entrance. "Gonna make you cum on my tongue before I'm done. OK? Just 'cause you did such a good job!"

She dives in without any more warning, her mouth hot and wet against your sensitive flesh. You cry out, back arching off the bed and legs shaky. Max licks and sucks at your folds, her skilled tongue delving deep into your hole.

You tangle your fingers in her hair, holding her close as she positively, ruinously devours you. The sounds are so lewd. The slick slides of her tongue licking you out, her lips smacking as she suckles your clit.

"Please!" The word falls out of your mouth, which stays agape as you struggle to breathe.

Pleasure builds rapidly, coiling tight in your belly. Your muscles are all tense. So sensitive, so close to the edge already. Your mind hazily tries to remember what round this would even be. Her nails dig into your thighs and the memory of how those fingers had played with you makes you feel feral. Fuck. Oh, fuck.

"You're fucking delicious, babe," she mumbles against your sloppy cunt. The words are all muffled but it makes this vibration against your core which starts this inexplicable tingle. You didn't know you could feel this good. You start thinking of hooking her up to a vibrator and overstimulating her to make it up to Max.

"Max!" you gasp, your thighs starting to tremble. "I'm gonna- fuck, I'm cumming!"

Max doubles her efforts, sucking hard on your clit as she thrusts two fingers knuckle-deep into your cunt. You shatter, your orgasm crashes over you like a tidal wave.

You thrash beneath her, incoherent with ecstasy. The faint taste of blood tells you that in the midst of all this you must have bitten your tongue or your cheek to stop from crying out too loudly. Something about the audio levels peaking. Through it all, Max continues her assault, working you through your climax and into another. By the time your girlfriend finally pulls back, you are nothing but a boneless, mewling mess.

"My subscribers are gonna love this," Max tells you with an impish grin and a sweet kiss. "Almost as much as I love you, baby."

[fairytales-and-folklore]

It's A Love Story, Baby, Just Say Yes

Teen Wolf » Sterek

Title: It's A Love Story, Baby, Just Say Yes

Author: fairytalesandfolklore

Fandom: Teen Wolf (Masterlist)

Relationship: Derek Hale x Stiles Stilinski

AO3 Rating: Teen & Up (a complete collection of author's notes, inspiration credits, content warnings and tags can be found on AO3)

Summary: For the record, Derek is not stalking Stiles. He's just being protective, standing guard outside his bedroom window every night like the world's okayest watchdog. For the most part, it's relatively uneventful. Until one night, Derek catches Stiles performing a one-man concert to the tune of Taylor Swift's Love Story, with some very interesting lyrical changes.

"I thought I heard—" Derek starts, adrenaline giving way to embarrassment. "Nevermind. Sorry. I'll go." "You thought you heard what?" Stiles prompts, one eyebrow cocked in mocking familiarity. "I…heard you singing," Derek says softly, gaze cast to the ceiling so that he doesn't have to look Stiles in the eye. "So? That's hardly a cause for concern," Stiles snaps defensively. "What, a man can't enjoy a good pop-country love ballad every once in a while?" "No, it's not that. It's just—" Derek falters. "I thought I heard you say my name." "What?! I didn't say your name!" Stiles splutters, voice rising an octave. And that's when he hears it, the telltale skip in his heartbeat as Stiles chokes around the obvious lie.

Read On AO3 | Read On Tumblr:

For the record, Derek is not stalking Stiles, okay? No matter what Boyd, Erica, and Isaac might say otherwise. It's just…ever since the night he'd gotten kidnapped by that twisted old bastard as a bargaining chip and literal punching bag, Derek has been a little…extra protective over Stiles.

And yeah, maybe it's overkill, showing up every night to stand guard under Stiles's bedroom window like the world's okayest watchdog (which, if he's not careful, he just knows he'll end up drinking coffee out of a gag gift mug with that exact slogan custom-printed across the side, courtesy of the sarcastic little shit himself) but if life has taught him anything, it's how to protect the ones you lo— care ab— don't want to end up dead, or whatever. So he shows up, and he waits, and he watches.

Most of the time, it's relatively uneventful. Which, strictly speaking, is a good thing. There's the occasional burst of laughter as Stiles watches tv with his dad, grumbling and grousing as he fights an uphill battle to get his father to eat healthier, the sharp scent of guilt as the sheriff sneaks down in the middle of the night to steal a handful of thin mints he keeps stashed in the back of the freezer that he thinks his son doesn't know about — the usual. (It resolutely does not make Derek's lips twitch up at the corners with a wistful smile, or yearn to come inside and join them.)

Tonight's watch starts off much the same as any other, with one slight hiccup — Stiles comes home a little later than usual, which means Derek has to duck into the rose bushes to avoid being seen. Luckily (albeit tremendously irresponsibly, Derek notes with a frown) Stiles is too distracted by his phone to take any notice, tapping out a quick response to Scott to let him know he'd made it home safely after they'd parted ways. Grabbing a handful of half-eaten candy from the stash he'd snuck into the movie theatre, Stiles slides out of the driver's seat, hip-checking the Jeep's sticky door to get it to close properly, and heads toward the front door, keychain swinging casually from his index finger as he whistles an off-key rendition of The Avengers theme.

Derek waits until he hears the sound of the shower running to come out of his hiding spot and resume his post, picking a thorn out of the cuff of his leather jacket and scowling down at the rose bushes like they've done him a personal offense. For a while, there's a whole lot of nothing, just the sound of water splashing against tile, the scent of Stiles's Old Spice body wash wafting in the summer air, and—

Wait.

Is that…is Stiles singing Taylor Swift?

Derek tilts his head to the side, catching sight of what is unmistakably Stiles's silhouette framed in the open window, towel wrapped around his waist, using a hairbrush as a makeshift microphone and belting out what Derek is 99% sure is the song Love Story by Taylor Swift.

"We were both young when I first saw you

I close my eyes and the flashback starts 

I'm standing there

On private property in winter air"

Now, Derek doesn't exactly listen to a whole lot of Taylor Swift, but he's pretty sure those aren't the right lyrics. Still, it's as good a form of entertainment as any, so Derek settles in and listens for a little while, ducking his head to hide a small smile whenever Stiles struggles to hit the high notes.

There's a brief pause as Stiles stumbles over, presumably, a big pile of laundry he'd neglected to put away, and accidentally whacks himself in the face with the hairbrush, a long dramatic whine followed by a string of muffled cursing, and then he's swinging right back into the chorus with even more gusto than before.

"Romeo taaaaaaake me somewhere we can be alooooone

I'll be waaaaaaiting, all there's left to do is ruuuuun

Youuu'll be the prince and I'll be the priiiiiiiincessssss

It's a love story, baby, just say yessssss"

Derek chuckles to himself, shaking his head and rolling his eyes, the tension in his shoulders easing ever so slightly as he settles back against the side of the house. 

As Stiles charges on into the second verse — something about sneaking out into the forest in the middle of the night, which also doesn't sound like the right lyrics, but whatever — Derek's mind starts to wander, and he finds himself musing over who the object of the song might be, who Stiles thinks about whenever he's belting out love ballads. His thoughts stray to all manner of likely possibilities before settling on the obvious choice — Lydia Martin — and an unfamiliar pang of jealousy, white-hot and acrid, settles into the pit of his stomach like he's just swallowed mountain ash.

Derek shakes his head, frowning.

Where the fuck did that come from?

He takes a deep, steadying breath, wincing as he catches sight of the set of claw marks he'd accidentally slashed across the siding.

He's being ridiculous. Who cares who Stiles thinks about when he's alone, singing love songs at 11 o'clock at night in nothing but a towel? 

Definitely not Derek.

And besides, it's not like every time someone sings something, it has to have a focus, or some kind of deeper meaning.

Maybe Stiles doesn't have anyone in mind.

Maybe he just likes the song.

Maybe—

"Sourwolf, taaaaaaake me somewhere we can be alooooone!"

Derek stops dead, heart skyrocketing into his throat. Before he even realizes what he's doing, he's scaled the side of the house and vaulted through the open window, landing with a gentle thud on Stiles's bedroom floor. The rest of the chorus dies on a high-pitched shriek as Stiles screams bloody murder, a whirlwind of flailing limbs and colorful expletives, brandishing the hairbrush like a weapon and accidentally smacking Derek clean across the shoulder.

"What the f— Derek?! What the hell are you doing here?" Stiles shouts, loud enough to wake the whole block.

"I thought I heard—" Derek starts, adrenaline giving way to embarrassment as he remembers the reason why he's here. He swallows nervously, throat going dry. "Nevermind. Sorry. I'll go."

"You thought you heard what?" Stiles prompts, one eyebrow cocked in mocking familiarity.

"I…heard you singing," Derek says softly, gaze cast to the ceiling so that he doesn't have to look Stiles in the eye.

"So? That's hardly a cause for concern," Stiles snaps defensively. "What, a man can't enjoy a good pop-country love ballad every once in a while?"

"No, it's not that. It's just—" Derek falters. "I thought I heard you say my name."

"What?! I didn't say your name!" Stiles splutters, voice rising an octave.

And that's when he hears it, the telltale skip in his heartbeat as Stiles chokes around the obvious lie. Derek's eyes snap up, and he takes a moment to look at him, really look at him, cataloguing all the little details he'd missed before — the slight tremor of his hands as he ducks his head to attack a phantom itch on the back of his neck, Adam's apple straining against the column of his throat each time he swallows, patches of scarlet blossoming in the hollows of his cheekbones — and feels his own apprehension start to melt away, replaced by a sudden burst of confidence, lips curving into a smile at the staggering realization that Stiles is just as nervous as he is.

"Stop looking at me like that," Stiles huffs, eyes narrowing in suspicion at the sudden change in Derek's demeanor. "You're making me nervous."

"Oh?" Derek's eyebrows perk up with the inflection. He takes a tentative step closer, delighting in the way Stiles's body instinctively does the same.

"Do I make you nervous, Stiles?" he asks, his smile positively wolfish.

"I — no — that's not what I—" Stiles flounders, a prickle of heat winding its way down the length of his spine as he breaks out into a full-body blush.

"You're flustered," Derek notes with a teasing smirk.

"Well, of course I'm flustered," Stiles argues indignantly. "This is a flustering situation. A real flusterfuck, if you will."

Derek huffs out a laugh and hums, all fond amusement. It's endearing as hell, and Stiles kind of hates him for it.

"Point is, Sourw—" he starts, eyes growing wide for a fraction of a second before he rights himself, powering through with feigned indifference. "The point, Derek, is that no one said your name. So maybe check your ego before you come barging into someone's room in the middle of the night on the utterly wrong assumption that—"

"So you're telling me you didn't replace 'Romeo' with that stupid nickname you gave me the night we were at the high school?" Derek asks, one sassy eyebrow raised. 

Stiles swallows thickly.

"The one you keep calling me, all the time, every chance you get, just to get a rise out of me?" Derek presses.

"I— that's not—" Stiles splutters.

"That's what I thought," Derek confirms with an air of smug satisfaction. 

A wicked grin worthy of the Cheshire Cat unfurls across his face, and Stiles drops the charade, sighing in defeat.

"Look, the only way you could possibly know that is if you were, like, lurking under my bedroom window or something, so—"

There's a soft, sudden intake of breath, and the smug smile slips from Derek's face, only to curl across Stiles'.

"Aha!" he shouts, pointing an accusatory finger at Derek.

Derek fixes him with a withering glare, before closing his eyes and heaving a frustrated sigh.

"I was…in the neighborhood," he admits reluctantly.

Stiles can't help the big, goofy grin that spreads across his face.

"Uh huh," he teases with wry amusement. "And you just happened to pass by my house long enough to eavesdrop on my one-man karaoke show?"

"I…might stop by every now and then to check in on you and your dad. You know…make sure you're both safe," Derek says with an attempt at a casual shrug, but Stiles doesn't miss the way his ears burn bright red at the admission.

"Aww, that's so sweet, you big creep," Stiles laughs, sweeping forward and mock-punching Derek in the arm.

Derek rolls his eyes, hands stuffed into the pockets of his leather jacket as he sways back and forth on the heels of his boots. A few seconds tick past with the two of them just standing there, smiling stupidly at each other, and then a mischievous smile curves its way across Derek's face.

"So…if I talk to your dad, will you pick out a white dress, or—" Derek teases, mirth dancing in his eyes.

Stiles barks out a laugh.

"Oh my god, shut up," he says, surging forward and gripping Derek by the collar of his jacket, before pulling him into a kiss.

Elements of this story were inspired by art by michellicopter

[savannahsdeath]

heyy! this is my first time asking a request but can you do more mafia ellie? i love her sm omg 🤭

MAFIA!ELLIE X READER

mdni please<3

warnings: 18+!! mentions of ellie not having time for reader;(( finger sucking? cum eating just smut and ellie ending up shoving her fingers in your mouth because .

writers note: inspired by @seattlesellie 's fic though hers about abby 🤭(read it here) .. i found it days ago and just couldnt get this out of my head goshhh and finding it again was so hard !!

: ̗̀➛ "yeah, good fuckin' job." ellie mumbled in a raspy whisper.

you could see her arm muscles tense as her grip on her phone tightened. you bit your lip and threw your head back, leaning it on her shoulder.

it wasn't supposed to be like that. not at all.

: ̗̀➛ she told you she has a day off - well, she's her own boss, so she could have one any day, but her job is hard to take a break of. there's always some problems or complications. or unexpected calls, like this one. of course, she apologised a hundred times before picking it off (not really, she just murmured a half-assed 'sorry, babe'), but it didn't make it any less annoying.

: ̗̀➛ so you ended up pressed against her chest with legs spread wide open, making room for her right hand, which, much to your surprise, didn't slid out of you.

"ellie—" you let out a desperate mewl, feeling her fingers slow down as her focus shifted to the person on the phone.

she shushed you, planting a loving kiss on your neck, which only added fuel to your neediness.

"i know." she whispered, curling her fingers inside of you to prove her point. she straightened up as if whoever she was talking with could see her previous posture. "uhh, yeah... could you repeat?"

her every move would force a sound out of the back of your throat, every touch of her lips on your neck whenever she wasn't the one speaking left dark marks on your skin. you held onto her hand, digging your nails into her forearm what didn't bother her at all. being silent wasn't easy, it took lots of self-control which disappeared in ellie's presence.

: ̗̀➛ it was even harder when the "good fuckin' job" turned out to be something more like "fucked job". that's when you finally earned her focus. her fingers found the perfect way to calm her down, take some anger out and let her listen to your beautiful moans. you really tried to be quiet, but all you could do is purse your lips, what only muffled all the little whimpers.

"look, if you don't figure it out till tomorrow, you're fucking dead." she hissed, her frustration spreading through her whole body - from head to toes.

you felt the electricity cumulating in her fingers, you felt how mad she was. oh, yes, you felt that.

"i—" you whined, tugging on her arm to get even more of the attention.

"hushh..." she clicked her tongue, turning back to her phone. "i'm not kidding. your wife's gonna get your head as a christmas gift, if i'll feel generous."

every single word that escaped her mouth caused another gasp from you, because you didn't really listen to how harsh her statement was, you just enjoyed her raspy voice which was perfectly sychronised with her fingers. when she spoke slowly, her movement would also slow down, and, oh, how much you wanted to beg her to hang up.

"i don't care— no, shush, shut up." she hissed, but you felt better at the thought of you not being the only one who has to stay quiet now. "i have no idea how you'll do it, but you will, or i swear to god i—" her slim digits digged into you as she kissed your cheek, mumbling a tired; "fuckin' idiots" close to your ear while pulling away.

the man on the phone must start to get nervous, as his pathetic voice was now audible even for you. he kept apologizing and rambling nonsense, though ellie wasn't really interested in his excuses. plus, she had other things to do.

she used the little break as much as she could, pumping her fingers in and out of you and even slightly withdrawing her phone from her ear so she could listen to the sticky, dirty noises. nuzzling her face in your neck, she let out a long hum, either satisfied at the sound or to make the poor man think she cares. maybe both.

eventually, she continued her conversation. not forgetting about a disappointed, dramatic sigh first, of course. "any last wish?" she asked with an obvious smirk.

his voice raised even more, now not only apologizing but begging her for forgiveness. ellie never hurt any of her 'workers', unless they were traitors, so the fact that he took her seriously seemed unusual and, at some point, hilarious.

: ̗̀➛ you were so close, finally, after minutes of this torture - of your satisfaction disappearing for a few seconds just to come back... just to leave again, making your neediness take over. you bit your lip and looked at ellie, plopping your head on the crook of her neck. she felt how fastly and roughly you exhaled against her collarbone, grinning in amusement. you shifted, pressing your back even harder to her chest so you could feel it raising and falling as she breathes. your eyelids fell, making you get lost in a dark maze of every possible sense but sight.

"ellielliellie!" you whined, her name rang out in the dense, cold air.

your voice could be definitely heard on the other side of the phone, though the man didn't even stop his panicked rambling, what probably meant he was too busy to notice it.

she tsked as your throbbing walls clenched around her, her soaked fingers dripping on her palm. the ache which was persistently located somewhere deep in your body, maybe in the core of your bones, and didn't want to let go of you finally subsided. your hands almost unconsciously rested against your sides and as you opened your eyes you could see little moon shapes left on her forearm, where your nails digged into her.

it took you by complete surprise, not giving you time to react - though you wouldn't do anything anyway - before your pornographic moan got cut off with her digits sliding inside of your mouth. your saliva pooled down as your teeth grazed her flesh; salty and,, callous. her palm rested against your chin, forcing you to keep it raised.

"el—luhh" you tried to mumble but it came out as nothing like your girlfriend's name. it was slobbery, unclear and— disgusting.

she turned back to her phone, making you only able to guess what her expression was but she was, without a doubt, smirking. your tongue flopped flat beneath / against her fingers, earning a hum from ellie. as your pouty lips closed around her, her digits moved in deeper, causing you to gag for a second.

"c'mon, you'll live." she rolled her eyes, and you weren't sure which one of you is she talking to now - you, or the man who thinks he fights for his life, when in reality his 'threat' doesn't even listen to him?

your view range was violated by her grip, but you could see how unbothered she was through the corner of your eye. you could feel it - feel that her thighs don't tremble and clench, or that her breath is steady and deep, unlike yours.

as she shoved her fingers almost knuckles deep in your mouth, she spread them as if to gesture scissors and you swore you can read her mind, so you twirled your tongue around them, cleaning them up. your own juices got replaced with just as messy saliva, which small droplets cumulated in the corner of your lips. you couldn't help but suck on her digits, and the action itself made your eyes watery.

"you'll stay silent now, 'kay?" she spoke up in a mocking tone, and you couldn't tell who is she talking to again - no matter which one of you it was, you knew she wasn't asking and you hoped that the man realizes it too.

still, you nodded, making her whole hand follow your movements, what almost felt like she's the one controlling your body's reaction.

"of course you will." she cooed in a serious voice, though there was a different undertone - laced with taunting sweetnes.

✧˖°

[longshotlois]

Baby Boone - Tyler Owens x Reader

Boone's Sister!Reader X Tyler Owens Summary: College drop-out and lost in life, you’re not sure what’s next. That is until your older brother Boone invites you to join his storm-chasing crew for the summer. You'd expected to see storms, of course, but what you didn't count on was crushing on his infuriatingly attractive, definitely out-of-bounds best friend, Tyler Owens. A/N: Hey everyone! This is one of the first creative pieces I've written for my enjoyment in a long while, and it has made me fall back in love with writing. I am so so so excited to share it with you all. I’d love to hear your thoughts, so feel free to leave a like, comment, or send a message—your feedback means a lot. Thanks for reading! W.C: 5.4k

Baby Boone - Part One

You sat quietly in the back seat of Tyler's truck, watching crop fields and weathered barns flicker past the window, blurring together like a box of crayons left out in the sun too long. It was early April, and the air was becoming humid as Tornado season rapidly approached, leaving your skin glistening with a thin sheen of sweat that made everything feel sticky and hot.

You exhaled deeply, the cool metal of your laptop rested across your exposed knees running a weather program Lily had downloaded for you that tracked wind shear anomalies across America. Their whole operation was very technical you'd come to discover, despite their hillbilly cowboy personas they ever so slightly leaned into for the camera’s.

Just a week and a half ago, you’d been sitting with the very same laptop open on your dorm room bed, staring blankly at a withdrawal form that confirmed you were no longer enrolled in your classes. Not an easy decision to make three years deep into a degree. Nevertheless, chasing dangerous tornados with your brother seemed more appealing than facing the disappointment etched into your parent's faces. And so now you were spending your days staring at synoptic charts, and your nights drinking lukewarm beers and crashing in rundown motels.

“And we’re live!” Boone, your brother, announced enthusiastically. Lifting up the camera to capture Tyler as he drove. “Say hi to the stream, T!” Your brother really was his biggest fan and best friend rolled into one. More than once you’d joked that Boone could give Tyler’s fangirls a run for their money.

You tried to focus on the data, scanning for anything unusual like Lily had shown you when she'd first downloaded the program for you. A little overwhelmed, you fixated on the wind speed, noting how quickly it had spiked as you approached the cell they'd been tracking the majority of the afternoon.

You swallowed, grappling with the sharp turn your life had taken —swapping frat parties and 9 a.m. lectures for storm chasing and pre-dawn wake-up calls. You had no idea what you were doing, or what was next. But maybe that was the exciting part. Restlessly, your fingers tapped on the edge of the laptop, fidgeting to try and calm your nerves.

"And today, we're joined by the gorgeous Lily," Boone's voice caught your attention as he angled the camera between the seats to catch her wave, "And our special guest. A first-time chaser, and my baby sister-"

"Baby Boone!" Lily interjected with a laugh, using the silly nickname she'd christened you with a few days ago when you first met. Leaning into the frame and smiling wildly, her face inches from yours.

Lily was probably the most easy-going person you'd ever met, both unbelievably friendly and fiercely loyal, exactly the kind of person you'd want to have in your corner. Unless you were on the receiving end of her teasing.

Your cheeks warmed as you looked up, wiping the back of your hand across your forehead, and meeting her gaze with a raised brow, as if to say really?

She'd taken to calling you that the second she met you, gushing over your small frame and your dark, unruly hair, which was almost identical to Boone's, only longer. There was no denying you were siblings. And so 'Baby Boone' had been born.

As expected, protesting her remark only made Lily's grin impossibly wider, "Oh, come on. It suits you!" she jested, lightly slapping your arm and staring back at you with a smirk.

Boone snorted at her retort, shifting the camera to focus more on you, "Say hi to the stream, Baby Boone." He teased putting emphasis on the nickname, the light from his phone reflecting his amused expression. You'd spent enough time with your brother to know he was relishing every second of teasing you on camera.

Offering up a sheepish wave to the audience, you eyed Boone with a facetious scowl on your face and extended your middle finger to him sarcastically. The livestream’s chat exploded with messages, and though you couldn't see them, Boones' laughter made it clear they were loving the sibling rivalry.

"What, she the team mascot now?" Tyler smirked from the front seat, eyes still focused on the road but not missing an opportunity to join in on the teasing. “Maybe Baby Boone can get her face on a t-shirt if she's lucky.” He winked playfully as your cheeks warmed once more.

His teasing made your stomach somersault, something about his ruggedness paired with his dazzling smile had the hairs on your neck pricking up, unconsciously praying for his attention. Though you'd never admit that aloud, to yourself or to anyone. Especially not Boone.

“Can we not make this a thing?” you protested, half-laughing, half-groaning.

“Too late,” Boone retorted, sticking his tongue out for effect. “The chat loves it. Look, someone just said, ‘We stan Baby Boone.’” He nodded towards his phone screen, which displayed all the incoming messages from viewers.

“That’s not even—” you stopped mid-sentence, catching Tyler’s smirk in the rearview mirror. “Wait, are you all in on this?” You glanced between the three of them urgently, trust Boone to put them up to this.

“Define ‘in,’” Tyler replied, his tone casual. Holding your gaze for a second in the rearview mirror.

“You’re all the worst,” you huffed, but your tone lacked heat. Lily’s laugh was contagious, and even Boone’s teasing couldn’t ruin the laughter escaping you. For now, the approaching storm outside seemed a little less intimidating than before, the tension broken by everyone’s laughter.

"Baby Boone. Hilarious." you muttered shaking your head, your smile tight as you glanced down at the laptop, hoping to steer the focus away from the nickname. It wasn’t that you minded the teasing—it was just… well, you were trying to distance yourself from being just Boone’s little sister. A subtle sigh escaped as you silently hoped they’d let you slip back into the background for a bit.

When Boone twisted away from you, your shoulders slumped slightly, and you let your gaze return to the screen, the numbers blurring together as you tried to focus. Your brother might thrive on chaos, but you were still figuring out how to stay calm in it. This adrenaline rush was new and exciting—but also terrifying, especially for a first-time chaser.

As the laughter faded and the camera shifted back to Tyler and the chase, something in the air seemed to change—like the calm before the storm. The wind speeds were dropping, and you felt very out of your depth, a sense of unease crept up your spine and settled in your tensed muscles.

Through narrowed eyes, you watched your laptop, mentally taking note of the way the colours danced across the screen, a deep red shape forming right where you were headed. The data at the side was going crazy, flickering between the windspeed and the rotational motion in the atmosphere. All factors that Lily had explained in far less academic terms to you last week.

"Uh, Lily?" you said, nudging her. "The wind speeds are dropping. Like, a lot." Even you knew that wasn’t right.

She leaned over, frowning as she scanned the data. "That's... strange." Her voice trailed off, eyes flicking between the screen and the horizon.

You followed her gaze, searching for signs of trouble as if you had the first clue of what to look out for. The clouds gathered together quickly, but nothing seemed to scream danger yet - maybe a light drizzle of rain if you squinted hard enough. Still, the unease in Lily's expression made your pulse quicken.

Lily’s fingers flew across her tablet, brows furrowed and frown deepening. “The data isn’t lining up.”

Your head swivelled in her direction, eyes squinting at her screen, trying to see what she was seeing. “What does that mean?” you asked apprehensively. As much as you had no clue about storms or the technical stuff your brother got up to, even you could work out that didn't sound good. Just typical this would happen the first time you chase with them, maybe you were just a bad luck charm.

“Means the storm’s shifting course,” she muttered, not looking away from the tablet. Her voice was calm and focused as if this was just another day at the office. But then again, it probably was for her. “And we’re headed right towards it.”

Boone leaned forward and thumped his hand against the dash, "Hell yeah!" His grin widened in a way that made you want to scream, like being in the path of a fucking tornado was the best thing he'd heard all week. Then again, knowing Boone it probably was.

Timidly, you dared to ask what you'd been wondering, "How far away is it?" You wanted to be prepared for things getting chaotic, you'd watched enough of their streams to know how quickly things could ramp up. It was quite literally a matter of life and death sometimes.

“Eh, five minutes,” Tyler said thoughtfully his tone matter-of-fact and cool as always. Unbothered by Lily's updates, as if he already knew what was happening based on sheer experience. You noted how his knuckles tightened their grip on the steering wheel. “Give or take a few minutes.”

You looked up at his face, noticing the subtle shift in his demeanour, but he still seemed unbothered and focused. You, on the other hand, felt your chest tighten, the anxiety creeping in despite your trust in their judgment. The numbers on your screen climbed higher and higher, and your stomach churned in response. From the scale you had to compare the data to, you were only looking at an EF1, which was nothing compared to the storms you knew they'd chased before. That and Tyler's warm calmness stilled your nerves.

“Shouldn’t we turn around?” you asked, your voice betraying the unease you were trying to hide. You hated how scared you sounded, especially in front of Boone, Tyler, and the hundreds of viewers watching. "I mean... If we're in its path?" You looked to Tyler for guidance, something about him settled any and all fears just with one look.

Tyler hesitated, glancing at Boone before answering, “Well. If we turn now, we'll miss it completely Baby B.”

“And if we don’t?” you pressed, carried away with the thoughts that were plaguing your mind. Though Tyler never answered, too focused on driving them as close as possible. You could feel your heart beginning to thump in your chest, looking between the three of them for an answer.

Lily shot you a look, her jaw tightening “We’re not missing it." she said, eyes soft with sympathy at your tone, "We’re in its path.”

As if to punctuate her words, the sky darkened, and a sudden roar of wind engulfed the truck. The first drops of rain splattered against the windshield, quickly turning into a torrential downpour. Your hands instinctively went to your seatbelt, pulling it tighter as if it would do anything to protect you against the worst.

"In its path?" you repeated, looking at Lily like a deer caught in headlights. "You're joking, right? This is some kind of initiation thing?" you pushed yourself back into your seat, hoping it would somehow make you less on edge. Any rationalities about it being an EF1 were out the window now you learned you were going to drive into this thing.

"Relax," Boone reassured, "We're equipped to deal with this remember?" His hand pulled lazily at the harnesses built into the seats, jangling it a little to jog your memory.

Despite your brother's reassurance and Tyler and Lily's supportive nods, you couldn't help but assume the worst, perhaps you were being dramatic by picturing the windows shattering and one of you being sucked from the vehicle, but you were inexperienced and nervous as hell so you couldn't control it. As if the forming storm could read your thoughts, the hail kicked in, battering the truck with heavy pelts that echoed in your ears.

You clung to your seatbelt, wide-eyed and watching in horror as Tyler manoeuvred closer to what you could now see was a thin dark funnel forming in the sky. You swallowed hoarsely, nervously waiting for the worst to happen, for the winds to snatch the truck up and send you all spiralling into oblivion. That would be just your luck right there.

"Boone," You said voice tight and apprehensive. Though he was too absorbed in filming to offer you full reassurance, he glanced back over his shoulder a grin tugging at the corner of his lips, as if to silently tell you everything would be fine. You knew it would be, but you couldn't stop that worst-case scenario thinking that was bouncing around your skull like a pingpong ball.

The truck rocked as wind and hail lashed against it. The laptop highlighted the rising wind speed, which had now climbed past 100mph setting off a tight wave of unease in your chest. You were preparing for the worst, feeling the adrenaline which rushed through your veins. Some life experience this was - Boone getting you killed before your parents could for agreeing to tag along with your wayward brother in the first place.

The truck shuddered again, the wind rattling against its frame like it was a tin can, threatening to overturn the vehicle at any moment. Your hand clutched into a fist, nails digging into your palm leaving little crescent moon-shaped indents in your skin. Trying anything to take your mind off the unsavoury thoughts that rattled around it.

You could see Boone twisting round every few moments, eyes gazing back at you just to check you were still breathing - he knew what you could be like under stress. Though you didn't dare meet his eyes. You didn't want to appear frightened, even if you were, because you knew how over-protective he could be when it came to you. And you certainly didn't want Lily or Tyler to see that side of him, you'd never hear the end of it.

"Harnesses on people," Tyler instructed calmly, the truck coming to a stop. The rain and hail was still pounding down but Tyler didn't seem worried, which eased the knot in your stomach - he was a professional tornado wrangler after all.

Reaching over your shoulder you grasped the fabric of the straps, fumbling slightly to pull your arms through, just how Boone had shown you earlier. Stealing a glance at your brother, you watched as he adjusted his own like it was second nature to him. Lily too had pulled her's on with ease, returning to her tablet a second later. You felt your heart racing as you fought to untwist it.

Your hands trembled slightly as you struggled to snap the harness into place, acutely aware of the way Boone was staring. "I got it." you muttered, more to yourself than to your brother. Despite failing the first time to get it to click together, you repositioned to try again. But before you could, Boone had already reached over to connect the straps together, a resounding click echoing through the truck as he did.

"You're good." he said, shooting you a quick wink and turning back around.

You could feel your cheeks flush with a mix of irritation and embarrassment. It wasn’t that you didn’t trust Boone—it was just that you didn’t want him to do it at all. Your heart thudded harder in your chest, but it wasn’t from the storm. It was the way he always stepped in to protect you, like you were still a kid. His hands were steady, but you couldn’t decide if it was comforting or patronizing. You knew he wasn’t trying to undermine you, but sometimes it felt like he still saw you as the little girl who used to sneak into his room at night after a bad dream.

Despite the heat rising in your cheeks, your attention was pulled back to the storm. The sharp scent of rain hit your senses, a reminder of where you were—right in the path of a tornado. You felt like a sitting duck, watching as the dark funnel began to form more clearly ahead.

"Hang on tight ladies and gentlemen," Tyler called eagerly as he pressed a button on the console of the truck. A low whirring sound vibrated throughout the truck as the anchors penetrated the dirt underneath you, grounding you all in place. You prayed they would hold. "She's getting close!"

You almost forgot about the livestream, glancing up at the camera mounted on the dashboard filming the approaching storm, too busy fearing for your life. But now you were beginning to understand why they did this, the adrenaline rush was like nothing you'd felt before. No wonder Boone never looked back after first chasing with Tyler nearly four years ago.

"Goddamn..." Your mouth fell open, staring through the windscreen at the sight in front of you, forgetting any frustration or embarrassment you'd felt two minutes prior. You felt yourself beginning to smile leaning forward as much as you could to get a better view between the headrests, encouraged by Boone and Tyler who glanced back at you, both laden with excitement as they watched your reaction.

"Hell yeah, baby!" Boone whooped, encouraging Tyler and Lily to cheer as the tornado began to head in the truck's direction. You took a deep breath, watching in amazement as it began to twist closer to the truck.

The dirt in its path began to sweep up into the air, scattering across the trucks windshield and frame with tiny pitter patters that could barely be heard over the winds howling. It was mesmerising, unlike anything you'd ever seen before. The debris acting like tiny puppets on a string orchestrated by the tornado, guiding them up into the air and swirling like dancers fluttering through the sky.

"Holy fuckin' shit." You murmured in awe, barely aware of the laughter bubbling up from the rest of them. It was unlike anything you’d ever seen, and as the tornado began to engulf the truck, the thrill of it shot through your veins. The deafening roar of the winds rattled the truck, but you couldn’t tear your eyes away from the glass, from the dance.

You stared through the window, the swirling grey mist swallowing everything just meters away. Every instinct screamed to get out and start running but you knew better than that, and so you stayed firmly pressed to your seat observing in awe. Your harness was tight against your chest, and you were grateful you still wore your seatbelt as you were certain without them you would've collapsed then and there from the excitement.

The silence that followed the first roar was almost deafening. You could make out the others' voices but they faded into background noise as you scanned the ground outside. The truck was shaking violently, the winds roaring like a freight train. Every gust rocked the truck testing its limits, and you could feel your heart pounding - but this time it wasn't out of fear.

The gusts of winds got stronger and stronger as the tornado fully enclosed the truck, blocking out all views of the outside world. You were painfully aware of your hammering heartbeat that throbbed against your chest, pounding in your ears as Boone whooped and began pointing his POV camera at Tyler for the stream.

“Hold on!” Tyler yelled over the chaos, using the steering wheel as a brace to pull himself forward, looking up at the sky through the windshield, staring up the large funnel trying to see the inner workings of the tornado. The ground was still vibrating beneath you, jostling the truck even with the anchors drilled deep into the earth. Every second felt like an eternity.

The adrenaline coursing through your veins kept you rooted in the moment, but a part of you couldn’t shake the nagging thought that this was actually real. Not many people could claim they’d been inside of a tornado, especially not that they'd escaped both unharmed and unscathed.

Suddenly, there was a loud crack from above, and a surge of pressure hit the truck. You instinctively pulled tighter on your seatbelt, bracing for impact, but nothing came. The roar of the wind lessened, the truck’s shaking started to subside, and the storm’s intensity began to fade. You dared to glance out the window again, your chest tight as you processed the change.

Maybe the tornado was passing, you thought. It was moving off to the side, leaving only small bits of swirling debris in its wake. A stark contrast to the howling winds that had engulfed you a few minutes before, covering the trucks windshield in dirt and grass and god knows what else.

Tyler let out a breath, relaxing his grip on the wheel as the truck settled, though the storm still raged around you as it died out. He turned back to face you, a grin breaking across his face. “Well, that was somethin',” he said, his voice light, but you could tell he was still buzzing from the experience.

You nodded timidly, and glanced outside again. It was silent for a moment, with only the sounds of your pounding heart in your ears for comfort. You'd never felt so alive.

Eventually, the pounding in your ears let up, beginning to slow until you weren’t aware of it anymore. You looked to Tyler, who was preparing to lift the anchor’s, his jaw set in a way that made your chest tighten.

"You okay?" he asked, watching you in the rearview mirror. His voice was low and sincere. For a moment, the rest of the world seemed to blur out, and all that mattered was the weight of his gaze on you.

Nodding quickly, you felt a flutter in your stomach. “Yeah... its just, wow." You sounded both impressed and relieved, still coming to terms with the adrenaline rush that came with chasing.

Tyler smiled knowing exactly how you were feeling, his eyes not leaving yours. “You did good." he said, voice soft and filled with praise, "Could tell you were a little nervous, but you pulled through.”

You caught a grin of your own forming, the heat on your cheeks now more from his compliment than the storm. “Thanks. I didn’t expect it to feel... like that. It’s different when you’re in it.”

He nodded, his expression understanding. "Yeah, s’crazy isn’t it?" His tone dropped to a thoughtful hum, and you couldn’t help but feel a pang of disappointment when his focus shifted away from you.

Boone's voice broke the quiet, pulling you out of your thoughts. Turning to the camera that was still rolling. “What a rush, huh, guys?” he laughed shaking his head in disbelief, scanning the comments for anything noteworthy. “We just survived the beast!”

You chuckled at his words while he and Tyler spoke to the camera, his enthusiasm for his job evident both in his voice and on his face. Your smile only getting bigger as Dexter and Dani’s voices came through on the radio checking everyone was safe.

Beside you, Lily was typing frantically into her tablet, checking the storm’s trajectory, and scanning over the data with a laser focus. “I think we’re in the clear… for today,” she said, though her words were cautious.

You exhaled deeply, still unable to fully grasp what had just happened. It was hardly something just anyone got to experience, and especially not at close range. Any other tornado you'd seen had been from the safety of a storm shelter, watching news reports and videos all over social media. But this was different. This was up close and personal with Mother Nature, basking in the wonderful and deadly conjuring of her fury and temper. Even when you closed your eyes, you could still see the dark funnel twisting and billowing towards the truck effortlessly, a testimony to one of the many magical things humanity still couldn't answer.

Boone was practically bouncing in his seat, grinning ear to ear. His excitement vibrated against the truck walls, so overwhelming it could make up for your own exhaustion. “That was the thrill of a lifetime!” he said, reaching around to punch your shoulder, enticing you to indulge him even for a moment. “And you were in the heart of it, Baby Boone! You didn’t just survive a storm—you chased it!”

You felt a smile tug at the corner of your lips despite the overwhelming anxiety that still clung to you. It felt pretty special to be able to share an experience like that with your brother, with no school or work really to tie you down, the freedom of it all was addicting. Spreading warmth through your chest all the way to your fingertips, like you were floating on cloud nine.

“Yeah… and I think I’m done for the day,” you sighed, laughing a little as the adrenaline seeped out of you. Chest decompressing like a large weight had just been lifted from it.

Lily chuckled softly, glancing over. “Fair enough. The first one's always a lot, you get used to it,” she offered with a shrug, her fingers still moving over her tablet. “Let’s head back to the motel. I think we’ve all earned a break.”

With that, Tyler started easing the truck away, heading back onto the same road you had driven down earlier. The rain continued to pour, and the air still felt heavy, but it was nothing like it had been before. The tension that had been bustling in the air had dissipated, leaving behind an eerie calmness that settled into the evening sky. Just as the light had begun to diminish, your energy had too, sucked away by all the excitement of the day. Yet, you couldn't help but keep your eyes trained on the rearview mirror, hoping Tyler would meet your gaze again.

"The chat loves you," Boone chuckled while scrolling through comments. "Baby Boone has her own fan base already." His proud smile earned a laugh from Tyler. You only chewed your lip shyly, a little unsure of how to react. You knew how popular they were, with over a million subscribers on YouTube and just as many - if not more - on their social media.

You'd long ago learned to private your own accounts, as often fans would flood to relatives to sniff out private photos, your parents had to restrict their Facebook accounts as so many people had worked out their relation to Boone and, by extension, Tyler. And Tyler was a big deal to the fans, even if he was humble enough not to flaunt it so obviously. You understood it to a degree. Tyler was attractive, kind, and looked fucking amazing in a cowboy hat - what wasn't there to like?

"Maybe next time you can ride shotgun?" Tyler smirked, as if he could read your thoughts, catching your gaze briefly in the mirror, his emerald ones bore into yours for no longer than a tantalising second before he looked away. "It'd be rude to deny the people," he added, and your heart skipped a beat.

The thought of sitting up front with Tyler terrified you, being in the backseat was nerve-wracking enough never mind being sat next to someone who made you a flustered mess with just one look. But the way his eyes had lingered on you made you wonder if he was just teasing, or if he really meant it. You couldn't say you weren't debating it now, sitting up front with him, watching him completely in his element - it made you shiver.

Boone, oblivious to your thoughts, pouted down into the camera. "You guys would miss ol' Boone in shotgun, right?" he asked the stream, doing his best impression of puppy dog eyes as he scanned the comments. Clearly, he was taken aback by Tyler's words, perhaps even as much as you were.

Lily sucked air in through her teeth, tilting her phone towards Boone "Not so sure about that one, Boonie."

You ignored the nickname with all the strength you could muster, though you made a mental note to tease him about it later. It had always been clear to you Boone had fancied Lily, and the little deviation from his usual name was definitely coming from a place of endearment.

Watching Boone glance down at her phone you noticed the wry smile that tugged on his lips, the way his eyes shone with reluctant acceptance. Curious about what the fans were saying, you craned your neck to try and see her screen, eyes narrowing as you tried to make out the messages which were beginning to flood the screen, the majority of them repeating: 'We need a Baby Boone cam'.

"Looks like you're putting me outta job, sis," Boone sighed playfully, shaking his head dramatically as if he had suffered some tragic fate, "Must run in the family. You're a natural, just like your big bro."

You knew he was only joking, but you couldn't help but feel guilty. You been chasing with them once and already were imposing far more than you'd ever intended to, but you knew if you said that to him, he would've only told you to shut up and take the camera. So you laughed instead, rolling your eyes at the way he stared off into the distance as if mourning his imaginary demotion from being Tyler's right-hand man.

A sly grin spread across your face, the tension from earlier melted away entirely. “It’s okay, Boone,” you teased, patting his arm with mock sympathy, doing your best to turn it into a joke because he would at least appreciate that. “Maybe you can run my fan club.”

“All hail Boone. President of the Baby Boone Fan Club.” Lily quipped, instantly latching on to your teasing, her grin just as mischievous as yours. Oh yeah, she was in deep for him too, you just knew it.

Tyler snorted as he clapped Boone on the shoulder, adding fuel to the fire. “Don’t worry, Boone. You’ll always be my buddy, but I say Baby Boone's upfront with me tomorrow" He grinned

Boone groaned theatrically, but his exaggerated reaction only made everyone else laugh harder. You tried to hide the smile creeping onto your face at Tyler’s comment, but the flutter in your chest betrayed you.

"That's if you want to be?" Tyler asked after a beat, turning around to look at you hopefully. You felt yourself crumbling the second his gaze met yours, the smirk playing on his lips doing things to you that couldn't even be worded. That look would be the death of you one day, you were sure of it.

"I mean.." You bit your lip thoughtfully, trying not to get lost in Tyler's gaze. "If it's what the fans want. Who am I to say no?" you finished with a shrug. Trying to play it off as coolly as you could, as if your inner voice wasn't screaming at you to agree.

Tyler's smirk turned into one of his signature grins, his white teeth flashing as he nodded enthusiastically. You smiled back at him, letting the chuckle fall from your lips a nervous one at first, that spread into laughter as you agreed again, "Baby Boone in shotgun it is."

Your brother shot you a playful glare as he climbed out of the truck. “You’re lucky you’re family,” he muttered, though the grin tugging at his lips revealed a lack of any real annoyance.

"Love you Boonie" you murmured so that Lily didn't hear, catching his gaze mischievously when his eyes widened and his cheeks turned pink. You chucked when he stuck a finger up at you through the window of the truck, pulling the passenger door open for you to climb out.

You climbed out and stepped forward a few paces, lingering beside the truck and glancing back in the direction of the dissipated storm. The tornado's roar had long faded, but you would remember that first chase for the rest of your life, the adrenaline coursing through you, the nerves, the excitement. You were so lost in thought that when Tyler appeared at your side carrying some of the data collection equipment you didn't even notice him till he spoke.

"You planning on helping me here or just standing there lookin' pretty Baby B?"

You spluttered a little at his words, choking on nothing but air as your hand came to rub the back of your neck awkwardly.

"Oh, right. Sorry," you stammered, "Coming..."

As you hurried to grab some equipment, you couldn't help but glance at Tyler again, his easy smile lighting up the quiet, post-storm evening. It felt like the calm after the chaos in more ways than one. Tomorrow, another storm would come—but for now, you let yourself enjoy the warmth of the moment, preparing for tomorrow.

. ゜⋆゜⚕️ ⋆゜ ゜⋆゜⚕️ ⋆゜ ゜⋆゜⚕️ ⋆゜ ゜⋆゜⚕️ ⋆゜ ゜⋆゜⚕️ ⋆゜゜.

Part Two coming soon👀

[softgh0stbites]

°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･ Eclipsed Affections

Rating: Sfw but suggestive + a lil vulnerable Vincent.

Pairing: Vincent x Reader

Summary: You and Vincent have interacted much for the past week since your last encounter. Though ever the softie, he can't help but interrupt your brooding session on the beach with no idea of how to make it up to you. Read these for previous context: Where Desire Slumbers & Dawn's Resolve

Notes: I am not writing a serious fanfiction but my heart hurt for the way I left the last ramble post and I needed some closure- ♡ I think Vincent can be misunderstood sometimes as a character, that he is cold- but I think he's incredibly kind but awkward to show it usually through acts of service instead of words of affirmation (at least right now) I was up late at night everytime I came back to this so there's probably a lot of misspellings and maybe some parts are rushed but I hope you enjoy~ ♡ also someone please listen to Under The Weather by Corpse and tell me it doesn't match him GODDDD I need someone to bounce ideas off of and music ♡ I'm so into writing for this man.

✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦

It had almost been a week since your last encounter with Vincent. The memory of that moment lingered vividly despite you trying your best to clear it up. It was the way your heart had plummeted as he left you standing there, dumbfounded, embarrassed, dejected... maybe even a little angry; that made moving on difficult. His eyes, boiling with anguish, had seemed to plead with you, almost begging you to stop him. But the butterflies in your stomach had long since dropped dead, leaving you unsure of what was right anymore. You rarely locked eyes, but it wasn't like you didn't see him after that. He seemed to do anything to stay away from you and vice versa, even when the others would watch with curiosity you didn't want to entertain.

You sighed, shaking your head to clear the intrusive thoughts while your hands busied themselves breaking apart bread. You were hungry, ravished from your journey but you didnt feel like sitting with the group and cooking out over a grill or sitting at one of the pubs. Especially if he was there, so close to you but distant anyway. Utensils would’ve been helpful, but you didn’t have any, and the loaf crumbled unevenly under your grip. Seated on the beach of Costa del Sol, you watched the dreary sun slowly sink toward the horizon. Its soft, molten orange glow only annoyed you more—it was the same color as Vincent’s eyes, mocking you.

The bread crumbled further as your hand tightened, frustration bubbling over as you muttered a string of curses. Reaching for the jar nestled in the sand beside you, you unscrewed the lid with quick, practiced fingers. The honey glistened inside, and you dipped your fingers in, spreading it on the bread without care for the sticky mess. You didn’t mind. You could always lick it off later.

'I wish it was him licking it instead with an apology,'

Groaning at the stray thought, you shoved the honey-slathered bread into your mouth, chewing loudly in a futile attempt to drown out the ache in your chest. That night, when you had cried quietly into your pillow, it hadn’t been for yourself. No, it had been for him. You ached for the man who was so convinced he didn’t deserve even the simplest affirmation.

You finished the bread and licked your fingers one by one, your tongue sliding between each digit methodically. The sticky residue would’ve been a nuisance if you decided to join Aerith and Tifa for cards later, though the thought felt distant. They’d already noticed your mood over the past week, pressing you despite your insistence that it wasn’t a big deal.

Pulling your knees to your chest, you stared out at the darkening waves, the scrape of loneliness rising behind your eyes. Even the sun was abandoning you, slipping away to hide behind its lover, leaving you here in the itchy sand with sticky fingers and crumbs on your face.

Amidst the rhythmic sound of lapping tides, the soft clink of metal broke through, unmistakable and familiar. Your heart sank and burned all at once. You didn’t need to turn around to know who it was. Of course it was him. Of all times, why now? He probably wasn’t even here on his own volition—maybe the group was waiting on you for something.

The clinking stopped, and the last light of the sun threw his shadow over you. You clenched your thighs with your palms, steadying yourself before forcing out the words.

"Is something happening? I’ll just be a few more minutes." You squeezed your eyes shut, willing your voice to stay even despite the hammering pulse in your throat. "Please."

The final word quivered with unspoken desperation—a silent plea for him to leave. If he wanted you to move on, to stop feeling this way, he needed to walk away. You couldn’t see him, couldn’t smell him, or you’d be undone all over again.

But he didn’t leave.

The sand shifted behind you, and a steady warmth radiated at your back. Something soft brushed against your bare shoulders, and the hair on your neck stood on end. Opening your eyes, you glanced down at the shadow cast over you. Vincent had seated himself at your back, lounging lazily with one leg outstretched, the other bent at the knee. His head drooped slightly forward, his posture casual despite the tension crackling between you.

Irritation bubbled in your chest, mixing with the undeniable yearning to lean into the silent comfort he was offering.

"That wasn’t an invitation, you know," you muttered, a sharp edge in your voice.

If it bothered him, he didn’t let it show. "I thought we were sharing nice views," he replied, his tone as dry as ever.

"You’re facing the wrong way, and the sun’s leaving us behind," you sighed, your exhaustion seeping into your words. Despite yourself, you scooted a little closer, cautiously leaning into his back. He didn’t move away.

Despite everything, you wanted this. You should’ve known it would take time, patience, effort. A soft chuckle rumbled through him, low and unhurried, and you couldn’t help but wonder if his humor was that dry or if he’d caught on to what you were implying.

"Would you prefer I turn around?" he asked, his voice dropping to a soft murmur. There was a quiet note in it—almost like he was asking for forgiveness.

You leaned further into him, your head brushing against his shoulder blades. He was so tall that even the small bump made your neck ache, but you didn’t care.

"Do you even know how much..." You stopped, stumbling over the words in your head. "Do you... think of me?" The question slipped out in a whisper, hesitant and vulnerable.

If he could feel the way your heart was hammering against your ribs, you’d have thrown yourself into the waves out of sheer embarrassment. You could handle it if he said no if he finally shut you out completely. But deep down, you knew better. There had been too many moments—unspoken glances, the brush of his hand against yours while unpacking boxes, the way he always seemed to linger near you. His body betrayed what his face worked so hard to hide.

"Often," he admitted, his voice low and steady.

Before you could respond, he shifted behind you. The next thing you knew, his legs slid around your frame, his knees bent and enclosing you as his arms rested lightly over them. You were trapped, but the weight of him didn’t feel oppressive. Instead, it was grounding. Comforting.

"Too often," he added, his breath warm against your ear. The tone of his voice was thick, lazy, syrupy, and god when it brushed the shell of your ear you wanted more.

He didn’t quite touch you, and you knew that if you wanted to, you could get up and he wouldn’t stop you. He’d let you leave. But something about this moment felt different—this was far too forward of him.

Tilting your head back, you looked up at his face, catching his eyes for the first time in what felt like a month. He was beautiful in the way only he could be, his hair sticking to his skin from the heat, a dusting of peach along the tops of his cheeks and the tips of his ears. But it was his eyes and their slight vulnerability in dusky depths that held you. He watched you as you watched him, and your mind lagged, struggling to process that he actually thought of you.

Your lips tilted into a half-smile. "Well, you don’t show it, do you?"

You reached up, your fingers brushing toward him instinctively a part of you knowing he wouldn’t push you away. There was something different about him, it was something softer. You noticed his mouth working at the top of his neckline, lips parting and closing again, before he let out a sigh so heavy it seemed to carry all his restraint.

"How would you like me to show it?" he asked, his tone challenging, dripping like poison unto you. A poison you'd drink yourself stupid with.

"Vincent," you began, bracing yourself for the vulnerability in your next words, "I don’t want you to pull away from me anymore." Even as you said it, you felt the rise of panic, ready to run if he rejected you again. You didn’t think you could handle another cold refusal.

But instead of answering, his hand settled near your waist, hovering as if asking for permission. The heat of his palm radiated through your clothes, and even though he didn’t touch you, you could feel the electricity in the air between you. He leaned forward, tilting his head down to meet your gaze fully. Your neck began to ache from the angle, but you couldn’t bring yourself to care. His bangs fell into your eyes, tickling your nose, making you shiver.

God, he had to be ridiculously flexible to contort down to you like this.

"I can’t—" he started, his voice faltering as the sun flared in his eye. He swallowed hard, his words thick and heavy. "I need— I want, but I can’t..." His voice cracked slightly, and your breath caught as you stared at him. His lips, parted ever so slightly, were the perfect shape, a cupid’s bow you couldn’t stop imagining against your own. You wanted to feel their softness with your fingertips, your teeth, your tongue.

Gathering your courage, you let yourself lean against him, resting your head on his collarbone if only it wasn't covered with his cloak, buckles, and leather. Your lashes batting up at him shyly. "You want?" you whispered, the words trembling as they left your lips. "Tell me."

Your voice made your cheeks burn, the sound of it so unfamiliar, almost foreign. This was all so strange like one moment you were trying to forget him, to bury this infatuation, and the next, you were slotted between his thighs with him looking like he wanted to devour you whole.

Slowly, carefully—as if not to startle you—he moved, although he probably never could with how loud his movements were in general. The crinkle of leather and the soft click of his gauntlet sounded loud in your ears as he raised his hand, sliding it under your jaw. His touch was impossibly gentle, his glove cool against your skin as he tilted your face upward, stretching your neck a little further, exposed. He was studying you like he was committing every detail to memory. His thumb brushed a lazy, feather-light stroke along the side of your jaw, over the sweep of your ear and towards your temple. His gauntlet fingers left a trail of icy fire in their wake, making your mouth dry and you felt your resistance to forgive crumbling under his care.

He touched you as if you were glass, his grip sweet and fragile. The ocean breeze picked up, ruffling your clothes and making you shiver as you closed your eyes, momentarily overwhelmed.

"Everything," he finally murmured, the word purring from deep in his chest, thick with vulnerability. "Anything you’ll give me. Whatever you need from me." His tongue darted out briefly, wetting his lips, and your gaze lingered on them, sinful and inviting.

You couldn’t stop yourself. Shifting, you captured his hand in yours so it didnt hang useless between you, turning to nestle on your knees so you could meet his gaze at eye level. Your head spun with thoughts, ideas of what to ask for or what to take since he was offering so freely. But something nagged at you. Something twisted about this self-service he was offering.

As you leaned closer, you noticed the bleary haze in his eyes, half-lidded and dusky. You inhaled sharply, catching the faint scent of liquor. It was bitter and strong. The realization hit you like a splash of cold water.

"Are you—?" you started, pulling back slightly, unwilling to let this go further if he wasn’t in the right state of mind.

He stilled, and for the first time, a rare and crooked grin spread across his lips. His sharp canines flashed, making you swallow hard. You didn’t know what he found so amusing, but the sight of his grin struck something deep in your chest. He carded a hand over his face, ruffling his dark locks and leaving himself even more disheveled than before.

After a moment of composure, he answered, his grin fading as he met your gaze with quiet intensity. "No. Unfortunately, I’ll never have the luxury of letting go." His tone was heavy, but his lips quirked faintly, almost self-deprecating. "You’re not some villain out to steal my virtue, so don’t trouble yourself."

His hand slid back under your chin, guiding your face closer to his as his gaze dropped to your mouth. Your eyes fluttered closed instinctively, thinking this was it, finally...

"What if I am a villain out to steal your virtue?" you squeaked, half-joking, half-desperate.

His breath ghosted over your cheek as his nose bumped against the top of your cheekbone. Slowly, he inhaled, as if memorizing the scent of your skin. His nose brushed lower, gliding along your jaw before returning to hover near your lips. The sensation sent shivers racing down your spine.

"Tough luck," he murmured, a quiet smugness in his tone as if to say it was never in question to begin with, his virtue. He continued his gentle ministrations, making heat pool low, fire stocking your belly. His lips were whispering over the places his nose touched, but only slightly, not daring to touch you quite yet. He had said that touch was very important to him, so the act of this was unthinkable to you. You hadn't thought you'd be sitting here being stock still as he took pleasure in teasing you with haunting trails of that mouth. You were almost worried he would end up finding sticky honey and crumbs if he continued at this pace, hoping to god it wouldn't ruin the moment.

In all the silence passing between you again, he was making you lose your train of thought to reply, your throat swallowing as his lip just barely fluttered over your pulse point before he continued to make you squirm.

His voice low and velvety, a dangerous whisper. "What do you plan to do with my virtue once it’s yours?"

He was entertaining you while also asking a weighted question, his face pulling back slightly to meet your gaze as your eyes opened. You could see how strong his restraint was, like stone, ceremoniously holding himself together without letting a single crack show. But now, here with you, those cracks were visible, his facade slipping as his eyes stayed fixed on yours, the weight of his stare pinning you down.

Before you could answer, he spoke again, his voice softer, almost as if the words weren’t meant for you.

"I’ve already given more of myself to you than I meant to," he admitted, the frustration clear in his tone. His eyes dropped for a moment before meeting yours again, his brow furrowed. "You shouldn’t want me. You’re something I was never meant to touch, but I keep reaching for you. I can’t stop."

The raw honesty of his words made your heart ache. You could see how much he hated admitting it and hated the truth of it. His problems felt like they went far deeper than just a man betrayed by Shinra and left to wander alone. There was a darkness clinging to him, a weight heavier than regret, and it was clear it had been with him far longer than you realized.

You took his hand that was still in yours, raising it to your cheek and nuzzling against his knuckles. The cool material of his glove contrasted with your skin, but you didn’t care. Slowly, you lowered his hand to your lips, pressing a soft kiss there, like a quiet apology for being the source of such turmoil.

"You haunt me too," you whispered, your voice trembling slightly. You kissed each of his fingers as he watched you, his gaze flickering occasionally toward the darkening horizon, like he needed to steady himself. "You’re my ghost, drowning in regrets I don’t know anything about." You paused when his teeth bit down on his bottom lip, the flash of his sharp canines staying in your mind. "But I’d never think less of you for struggling with what you carry."

Before he could retort with self-pity and dismissive ideas about himself and what you should think of him, you squinted your eyes as if to say; Save it. You weren't usually so bold, but this idea that you're sitting in front of him being vulnerable as well. Another crash of water against the tides pulled you both from the intense stare off, your mind struggling to catch up to all that was occurring but nothing about Vincent was simple- you knew it. He was already giving you so much more than he ever did, spoke to you more than he ever had, you couldn't falter in this moment. Your hands were trembling at the idea that you could make one wrong move or simply open your eyes to find you had fallen asleep on this wide beach.

After a moment, you let go of his hand and rested your head on his shoulder. It felt silly to want to hold him tight, especially after a moment ago when you’d wanted him in an entirely different way, not as tender. But right now, more than anything, you wanted to make him feel safe. If this was all you could offer, then so be it. Your arms carefully wrapped around his neck, cautious not to brush against his skin. Your fingers wanted to slide into his hair, but you wouldn't push it considering his shoulders were still stiff regardless of the golden shoulder pads he wore underneath the cloak. His gauntlet shifted softly as he pressed his hands against your upper back, his fingers spreading wide as he pulled you closer with a quiet, low grumble. He finally slumped a bit forward, cheek resting in a tilted fashion on the side of your head, puffs of his breath stirring your hair.

You stayed silent as the moments passed until your eyes began to close from exhaustion, both emotional and physical. Vincent didn’t seem to mind. The quiet was his element, his steady breaths and the sound of the tide lapping against the shore, keeping you from fully drifting off.

You knew he wouldn’t say anything like I fancy you, I love you, or even I like you. You could deal with that. Maybe you’d never hear those words from him, and maybe he didn’t want your love, only your kindness. It didn’t matter. As long as he stayed like this, as long as he was yours in these moments, you could be content. This version of him was yours to keep, and you wanted to hold onto it selfishly.

Still, the thought of him opening up to others someday, making meaningful connections, or finding peace in conversation was comforting. You didn’t want to keep him entirely to yourself. But here, now, in the warmth of his hands on your back, his thumb brushing softly against your shoulder and rubbing lazily down to your lower back and up again, the quiet comfort he shared with you, this was yours.

Vincent was your forbidden fruit, and you were more than keen to sink your teeth into him. Gently at first, but firm if you must.

[dawnoftime22]

"...and it just did."

| W.M ( -> N.R)

Undeserving of a Love Like Yours, Chapter 5

Chapter Warnings: A very emotionally packed chapter, relationship problems, cheating, arguing, anxiety, overthinking, andd...just be prepared.

Summary: The truth unfolds itself easily on a special day.

Series Summary: When you're stuck in a complete hole of confusion and hurt with the one you thought you loved most, a certain redhead finds her way into your life.

Word Count: 8.7k (...oops)

Category: Angst.

A/N: this chapter has been eeeeverywhere with me. I wrote it in the car, at work, in my bedroom, and even at a hotel room. but, I hope you all enjoy<3 it's a whole lot, so it was quite difficult to finish, but february's over and I have more free time again!

also theres a playlist for this series out now :] in case you need something to listen to while reading. be careful while scrolling the songs to avoid just bits of teensy spoilers<3

Series Playlist

| Started on 10/01/2024, 12:16 PM |

| Finished on 05/03/2024, 3:45 PM |

Masterlist | Series Masterlist | N.R Masterlist

<- Chapter 4 Chapter 6 ->

"What is there to say?"

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You drag your feet across the wooden floorboards, making your way towards the kitchen. Here it is again, the same routine. But yet this time, you see a sticky note left on the marble counter, illuminated by a dim overhead lighting.

You furrow your eyebrows, but go over to read it anyway, the bright color a big difference to the white counter. 'might not be home until tomorrow,' was written on the piece of paper. Your heart didn't drop as much anymore. Your shoulders only droop a little, as if just a teensy bit more weight had been added.

A quiet breath leaves your mouth. Your hand picks up the sticky note and scraps it up within your palms, throwing it off to a nearby trashcan in the kitchen. Who else needed to read it anyway? It was only for you. Only for you.

You shook your head of the remaining thoughts you had of her, but she couldn't quite leave your mind at least once. Always there. Always lingering. As if you had been cursed. But in honest truth, the only curse you had upon you was the spell of love.

Today was a special day. Key word on the was. Some type of hope swirling in your heart maybe had you looking forward to this day, but all of it had just gone down along with the piece of paper in the trash. Your eyes also flicker to it once more, seeing the many other colored paper sitting scrunched up with the one from just now. At least she had the decency to still leave notes.

But, today was, of course...your birthday. And out of all the people, your favorite person was certainly not present. Maybe she had forgotten, you thought. Maybe she just didn't care enough this year...no, how could she?

You snap yourself out, having stared off at the sunlight shining in through the windows. You go to the fridge to see what was still in there. A bitten sandwich from last night, and some leftover chickens, but your lip forms a line and you close it, your hand dropping off to your pocket to retrieve your phone.

It was currently 9:45 AM, the digits frozen still on the same numbers until the full sixty seconds passes by. Your mind was in a haze, but your stomach was empty and it urged you to find some food. Were you just going to go out by yourself? Your body seemed to stop you from even going to the living room. Take-out was an option, but instead you simply laid your phone down on the counter, it making a small noise, the textures clashing.

You put your head in your hands, covering up your face and sliding your fingers across your skin, your palm cupping your own cheeks as a way to get a grip of yourself.

Your phone came up with a notification of your calendar, getting out with a reminder of your birthday. What great timing. You clear it off your screen and unlock your phone, roaming the apps.

Just as you were about to push yourself off the counter and grab the last of the food in the fridge, your screen changes without you touching anything. The contact name came up with...Carol?

Your face relaxes a bit and your thumb hesitantly goes to pick it up rather than tap on the red button, the ringing going away. The phone goes along with your hand when you put it against your ear.

"Hey Carol." You say casually, trying your best not to sound too questionable, as it wasn't usual that she'd call you. You hear some distinct voices whispering in the background of her side, one sounding like a young kid.

"Hey, just wanted to call and um...check in on you?" Her voice ended up sounding questionable instead, and your face goes into a confused reaction, although a smile growing on your lips. You let out a small chuckle, your eyes roaming the space of the room as you thought of your words.

"'Check in on me?' Come on, you rarely do that." Your hand goes to grab a nearby notebook that's been left on the counter, saved for recipes. "What's up?"

"I just wanted to say happy birthday to you. Maria reminded me and she and Monica got me to...call you." You assume she had a small pause in her sentence because she was looking over at the other two people in the room with her, which was who you had heard earlier.

"That's nice of her. And thank you." The pages of the book was soft against your hands, your fingers tracing and fiddling with some as you smiled softly at the thought of Maria scolding Carol for having forgotten.

"Well that, or, I would probably not have any pancakes for myself right about now." She says, her mouth nearly sounding like it was full. You'd guessed it was.

"Even though you were threatened to wish me, thank you." You add on, laughing gently as you did. There was a page you landed on in the notebook with a cookie recipe. One, specifically where you and Wanda had made together, having shared a wonderful memory that day.

You could feel your heart beat within your chest, the pace going quicker as your eyes looked over the words written on the paper that was accompanied with smiley faces and hearts here and there.

The smile on your face had definitely faltered. You take in a deep breath, letting it out once you let yourself close the book. Carol's voice snaps you back to reality, having remembered you were talking with her.

"I'm kidding, I would've called you up either way. Really though, how are you?" Your teeth sank down on your bottom lip, probably enough to puncture the skin or leave a small mark, but you let it go once you talked.

"I'm...fine. Other than sitting in my house alone not knowing what to do than sulk in bed or contemplating my life choices." With that answer, the blonde definitely knew something wasn't entirely right. She stays quiet for a while, perhaps thinking.

"Do you wanna go out and hang at the bar? We can do some karaoke if you want that as a birthday present." She offers, and the attempt makes you smile weakly. She never really knew what to do for your birthday, not being the type to do birthdays more than just a simple wish to them. But for you, she'd offer to hang out, which is what you love to do most of the time.

"Sorry, but I don't really feel like partying or anything right about now. Well, tempting, but, I just wanna relax." You say quietly, sliding the recipe book back to its original place.

"Okay, then..." Carol trails off as her mind tries to come up with some more ideas. You were about to think she was going to just hang up sooner or later, but then you hear her voice continue with a more interesting take.

"There's the mall." You raise your eyebrows. She couldn't see you with you being over the phone, but she just knew you were probably surprised. And you were.

"And what would we do there?" You ask, your mind unable to conjure up the slightest of an imagination of going to the mall with her in a casual situation.

"Well, we could grab some ice cream, buy some things, go to the arcade, go...I don't know." She suggests, just nearly giving up. She wasn't good at this type of stuff really, she's simply basing it off of the times she and Monica hangs out together. You could at least picture the straight line her mouth forms when she finished her sentence, and you had to resist a laugh.

"Ice cream does sound really good." Your mind opened a little with the simple thought of ice cream. Even though the comfort of your bed and the couch seemed nicer, it's not a lot of times she ends up inviting you to hang out like this anyway.

"The mall it is." The blonde says, and you can hear some clatter over the phone. She had finished her pancakes, you supposed.

"Am I driving or...?" You trail off, fiddling around with your fingers and sliding them against the marble counter, the coldness a difference to the sunlight coming from the window.

"I'll pick you up." You then hear the sound of keys, and you couldn't back out anymore. She was driving to your house to grab you, and it'd be impolite to cancel.

"Okay." You say under a breath, feeling heavier with every second that goes by. The guilt and anxiety was eating you up, but the date on the calendar just next to the recipe book had your mind getting out of the thoughts.

"I'll be there in 10. Please don't be glued to your bed when I arrive," She said, to which you let out a quiet chuckle. You couldn't really tell if it was in a stern way or a soft way, but it definitely pushed you a little more to get up and change your clothes.

"I won't. See you here." You say gently and the end tone sounds out, making you pull your phone away from your ear.

With that decided, you push yourself off the counter, slowly going off to the bedroom. The closet opens easily, revealing the same clothes you see every day. You shuffle through some of the hanged shirts, looking at what to wear.

Soon enough, you pull one out. It easily slides off, brushing against the many other shirts within the closet. Your eyes don't linger on the other ones that weren't yours, and you close the door after grabbing everything else.

Later on, you get finished up with changing your clothes, and now you were only waiting for Carol to arrive. There was something that prickled within your heart, like a roses stem with thorns, a worry that maybe she changed her mind and she actually didn't want to hang out with you. Maybe she was only doing it out of sympathy? But that can't be true. What about all the times she's driven you back home when you got a little too many drinks?

...You take a deep breath and turn away from the wall you were staring off into like it was the abyss. Instead your hands checked that you had everything on you, like your phone, keys, and your watch.

Then, the sound of a car pulling up at the front of the house made you look up, your eyes carefully watching the windows. You see a Nissan outside, and it was obvious it was Carol arriving.

Quickly, you got off the couch while your phone made sound, definitely a text message from her that she's arrived. You open the front door, going outside. Her blonde hair could be seen clearly through the car windows, confirming the person in your head.

You make your way to the car, opening the front passenger door. "Hey," you say gently, going in and and closing the door along with you.

"Hey." your greetings were simple, a usual thing to happen. Carol glanced at you while you buckled in, giving you a small smile before starting to slowly position the car back to the roads.

The car had some old soft rock playing, filling up the quietness. It also had you already moving just a little to the beats, staring out the window as she drove you both to the mall. She's always had good playlists. Sometimes you'd even have an urge to ask her to give you some of her cds.

"So, what are you aiming to steal my money for today?" She jokes after a song, her eyes focused on the roads. You let out a small chuckle, looking over to her.

"I'm not letting you spend your money on me for something that isn't a drink." You shake your head, fiddling around with your fingers in your lap. The blonde notices it when her eyes flicker over to you for a second before returning to the roads.

"It's your birthday, Y/N. You have to have a little fun. Let loose," she says, and you raise an eyebrow, turning your head to her. The last two words were new, at least when it comes out of her mouth.

"Maria's words, not mine." she quickly stated, making a smile grow on your face. You stop fiddling with your fingers and instead intertwine them with each other, your gaze going back to the window.

"Come on, any ideas?" The car stops at a red light, and she looks over to you. You stayed quiet in thought, although nothing much came up. She sees only the side of your head until you made your decision.

"We'll do yours," you say, having unable to think of anything. Your mind was clouded over. Honestly, a part of your body just wanted to lie in bed hopelessly the whole day, but something else pulled you.

"Then it's settled," she nods, the steering wheel turning with her hand as she made a right. You think over her words on the phone call earlier, 'Ice cream, buy some things, arcade', and you start to get just a bit more excited.

"Ice cream first?" You ask, looking to her with hope. She furrows her eyebrows and makes a face to you, and your lip forms a tight line, like a child asking for something and getting scared of the answer.

"Of course ice cream goes first." The car goes forwards once more, the light having turned green. You cheer quietly, and she gently shakes her head at your antics. At least she got you to release the emotional tension you had in your body. Even if just a little.

The rest of the car ride consisted of singing and dancing, the conversations being light. The weight on your shoulders got lifted up just a little bit more. When you were about to arrive and she was going to park, 'Please Mr. Postman' started playing and your face brightened at the intro.

She raised her eyebrows at your quick happiness at the simple song, but smiled and laughed at how fast you got into singing it. Really, it's always been a main song for whenever you hanged out, but it's been so long since she saw you sing it, she got surprised. Soon enough though, she sang with you, the two of you moving in your seats to the words.

When the song ends, she turns off the engine and both of you get out the car. The parking lot wasn't all that filled up, so it was a chance there weren't many people in the mall.

She puts on her cap and walks to the entrance with you behind her, the noise of crows and other birds made sound, echoing from somewhere afar as you made your way to the sliding doors.

The cold air of the mall quickly greeted you like a slap of reality in the face, like waking yourself up with a cold shower after laying in bed for too, too long. A way to make you feel more alive.

The ice cream shop wasn't far, and with how little amount of people were here, the two of you got to go to the counter right when you arrive to order your preferred flavour.

Your eyes watch the ice cream get put on the cone, and you do a little dance when your hand got ahold of it, while Carol was giving her money to the cashier of the total cost.

The cashier smiles at the two of you and says their 'thank you', making you smile back before turning around, Carol easily catching up with you from your slow walking.

The two of you walk and enjoy your ice cream, the coldness definitely making you more free feeling. There were clothing stores, shoe stores, little snack shops, and every other thing you could ever imagine. You passed by each one though, but you did point out some cool looking things here and there to Carol.

Soon enough, you come upon a pet shop and your eyes widen, your lips matching with a smile. You walk towards it, wanting to look at all the animals. Carol had to walk faster so she didn't lose you.

There were parrots, cats, dogs, hamsters, fishes, bunnies, and even some lizards. Your mouth was agape as you stared at some of them, but you walk over to the cats.

"Aw, look!" You point at an orange cat, who's sitting patiently with it's tail smoothly flicking back and forth as it watched people pass by.

Carol was looking at the dogs until you called, making her go over to you to see what you were melted at. As if you hadn't already from the other little animals.

"This one is so cute." You lean forward and capture the attention of the cat, making it stand up and walk closer to you.

Carol's head tilted slightly and her eyes squinted as she inspected the info of the cat. The name, the breed, the date and place of birth... "...Goose. Huh."

"I want to take it home." You blurt out as you let the cat follow your hand around, and its head moves here and there instead of its body. It was a playful cat, a paw going up here and there to reach out to you.

"You should get it if you love it that much." Carol says, with her usual deadpan voice that you honestly find amusing. Although, for this, your face turns deadpanned instead and you stare at her, making her raise your eyebrows at you. It was nearly a staredown.

"Danvers, I cannot take care of a cat...let alone myself." You gesture to the cat, and it looked at you questionably. Your shoulders slump a little at the last words of your sentence, and Carol frowns a little.

"I'm sure it'll be able to help you cope or something." Really, she was thinking in her head of surprising it to you as a birthday present for later tonight when she sends you home.

"Why don't you get it? I think Monica would go crazy." You glance back at her, and she purses her lips, staring at the cat. It was the most vibrant color of all the other cats.

"And Maria would go crazier." She said, turning to you for a second but then going back to the entrance of the shop instead, perhaps making her escape from you flipping the table to her.

"You can convince her." You say, the volume of your voice going up a little considering she's farther away. You take a quick glance back at the cat, hesitating to leave, but going away to catch up to the blonde.

"No, now, we are going to the arcade." You laugh when you hear her stern voice, although something in you knew she had a thought about getting it.

You looked around as you walked, seeing the arcade not far away now, the place lit up by machines and screens. But something caught your eye and made you look twice.

Were you dreaming? Well...having a nightmare? You felt like so. Your body definitely didn't react in a good way. Honestly, your heart felt like you were about to have a heart attack with how fast it was beating.

Carol's hat made shade for her face from the sun coming through the mall's glass roof as she walked. She stops along with you when she noticed, confusion filling her face at the sudden stop.

When she follows your eyes to where you were looking though, immediately her eyes widen and her face was in complete shock just as yours were.

A brunette, green eyes...green jacket...

It couldn't have been.

You look closer on the face, and it was. And her hand was not swinging by itself as she walked.

It wasn't with your hand either, because you were plenty of feet away from her.

It was with someone else. Something in the back of your mind felt like they were familiar, although you couldn't even dare focus on that.

Your whole day-- well, your whole world fell apart right then and there. Just like that.

You can feel your heart beating up to your ears, and it felt like time stopped. And not in the good way. Oh, you wish. You wish it was the time you saw her green eyes staring back at you and the whole world only felt like it held the two of you. But not anymore.

Maybe it was the numbing adrenaline rush of the shock coming through, but you take in a deep breath, ripping your gaze away. You couldn't bare to look at the sight anymore.

You clench your jaw, your hand gripping itself in a fist. Your eyes pooled with tears and Carol looked at you, her own misery at finding out the truth obvious on her face, although she was mostly worried about you.

"You know what? Maybe we can...do this another day." You say, trying your best to not let your voice shake entirely, but it did falter.

"You don't wanna--" She was about to suggest trying to distract yourself with the arcade, but at the same time, nothing could make you feel better after seeing such a thing.

"Just take me home." Your mouth moved quickly and you spoke quietly, your eyes flicking back to the spot where she was walking, but she was out of sights already.

You turn around and walk fast, not wanting to linger anymore. Carol walks with you. There was nothing said as you made your way out and to the car. The lovely sounds of the birds chirping now fell on deaf ears as your legs kept you moving.

The car door opens easily with the pull of your hand, and you get in, but you were careful to not slam the door. Carol gets in after you, and turns on the engine.

Her eyes go over to you. You already had your seatbelt on and had settled in your seat, staring out the window. She was about to say something, but she held her tongue, not wanting to make matters worse.

And what would anyone have to say in this anyway? Your lover left you, replaced you with someone else, and broke your heart. 'It will get better'? The only path to take was to go through the pain and that was it. Until you somehow get back up again.

The music starts up once more, and it didn't make you happy as much anymore. You couldn't even focus on it if you tried. You were trying to blink away the tears and ignore the way your throat was swelling up on the inside.

Carol drives you back home safely, keeping her eyes on you here and there. The ride was quiet other than the music, but it was obvious the tension was high.

There were questions unsaid, many going around in your head, but you didn't wanna trouble her with all of them, and she probably wouldn't know what to answer them with anyway.

Soon enough, you arrive back to your house, and you gently unbuckle your seatbelt. At the corner of your eyes, your tears were starting to seep out, just a little.

Carol makes sure she says something before she regrets just being silent, "Hey," she said quietly, and you look at her, your eyes shining with unshed tears. It was the softest you've heard her voice yet.

"I'm always here, if you need me," she says. She knows it won't be much, but it needed to get out of her head. You nod, and sniffle, trying your best to not cry just yet.

You don't say anything back. If you did, you would've broken right there. Instead, you pull on the car handle and open the door, getting out.

Carol watches you as you leave, and she makes sure you get into your house safely before getting out the driveway.

You close the front door of the house, locking it, and freezing in your tracks, taking in a sharp breath before letting it out as a sigh. You nearly hoped it didn't happen, that you would only do that and just wake up from sleeping right now.

But then you let out a sob and lean back on the closed door. You hide your face in your hands, closing your eyes as you started crying, and your chest wracks with broken sobs.

How could she do such a thing? Did she not love you? Were you simply not enough? Too much? You couldn't stop yourself with the questions roaming your head, overthinking everything as you go. The kindest soul with the warmest heart, now broken into a tiny million pieces just because someone couldn't talk about their feelings. Yet you seem to always find a way to blame yourself for every situation.

Sure, maybe even if she did talk to you, your heart would still break, but would it have felt like this? Would it have felt like your lungs were going to collapse from your cries?

You sniffle, and try your best to steady your breathing, but you couldn't, so you just let it do whatever it wants. You wipe your eyes with your sleeve, but the tears keep flowing, so it barely did much.

Fatiguely, with a heavy body, you made your way to the kitchen. You wanted to go to the bedroom, but it was so far, and everything in there would only make your head spin even more. The couch was a choice, but your eyes linger on that recipe book you had looked through this morning.

Your hand twitches to grab it, but you bite your tongue and instead grip the counter, letting yourself slide down on the kitchen floor. You clutch your legs and curl up. The grip your hands held with the fabric of your jeans were enough to probably rip them.

You still had hiccups leaving your mouth, tears leaving your eyes, and you were definitely about to sob once more. The kitchen tiles blurred from your vision getting clouded with tears.

Your hands clumsily reaches in your pocket to grab your phone, and you somehow made it to your homescreen.

The phone was set down on the floor, your hands shaking as your tears rolled down to your chin and dropped down to stain your shirt.

You look up, trying to gather yourself up, but of course you couldn't. Your body needed to let the emotions out, especially after such a situation.

For a few more long minutes, you sat helplessly on the kitchen floor, your breaths going with their own minds instead of your own. You take a few deep breaths, your legs splayed out in front of you before you sniffle and take one last deep breath.

You sat up a little more properly with the little energy you have, and slide your phone just a bit closer to yourself, your fingers gliding across the screen as you opened your calls app, and hovered your finger over the contact name.

You tap on it, trying your best to recollect yourself before she picks up. Your teeth bites down on your bottom lip, every tone of the calling sound making your heart beat faster.

It ends, and her voice comes through.

"Hello?" There's the soft voice. The gentle, soothing voice that lured you into falling in love.

"Wanda." Your voice nearly faltered, but it kept a little of it's stern tone. Your hand slid down to the kitchen floor, the texture keeping your emotions steady, at least enough for a couple minutes.

"Hey, what's up? Did you see my note?" She asks. She's been lying to your face all this time and you didn't even know it. How blind were you?

"Do you know what day it is today?" You ask, ignoring her own question. You sounded so calm in your own anger you honestly nearly even scared yourself.

"No...what?" She was confused, and you could imagine the innocent act of a face she made.

"It's my birthday." You put simply.

"Oh..." that was all that sounded on the phone, and you knew the call didn't get cut off. She just didn't know what to say.

"I'm sorry I didn't stay Y/N, I...forgot." She says slowly, and it was obvious she was trying to tread her tracks carefully.

"I can come back tonight, I promise." You almost didn't want her to, but you needed to talk it out. You didn't say anything else, not wanting to talk about everything else over the phone.

"Goodbye, Wanda." You whisper, your voice breaking at the end. You were sure she noticed it, but you'd want her to anyway.

You ended the call, tapping on the red button. That wasn't the end of it yet, of course, but for now, your hand only rests on the floor, your body falling limp against the cabinet.

She calls, but you don't hear it. The phone rings, on, and on.

You clench your jaw, tears filling up in your eyes once more. Your hand weakly silences your phone, and for the next couple more minutes, you lay crying, until your throat was dry and your muscles ached from sitting on the floor.

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The sun had gone down by now, and the moon came out of hiding.

You were no longer on the kitchen floor, but you were on the couch, curled up like a cat. You haven't done anything but cry ever since you got home. Only right now, your tears had dried, staining your cheeks

You hear the front door unlock, and you feel it coming, the moment you've been dreading.

The brunette appears from behind the door, closing it as she went in the house. Her eyes roamed the place, and eventually, it lands on you.

She lets out a sigh of relief when she realized you were still here. You let out a heavy sigh as you sat up properly.

She heard it. Even with the distance, the quietness of the room captured it. Her heart beated harder in her chest.

"Y/N, please, I'm sorry." She pleads as she makes her way to the couch, having carelessly kicked her shoes off, leaving one tilted on its side. You haven't even said anything yet, and you almost feel sorry yourself.

"Hey,"-- You were sitting right beside the armrest, so, she leans over and gently puts her hand on your cheek. --"I love you. I'm sorry."

You gently push away her hand, turning to look at her with your jaw clenching. She can see the anger in your eyes and it had her giving you a little space.

"Do you?" You say, your head moving slightly, and she notices the way the corner of your eyes seemed a little red. You weren't even looking at her. That was only the second part of the situation.

"Yes!" She says her eyebrows furrowed. She raises her hands in exaggeration before moving one up to her hair, sliding it back as she let out a breath. "...Why is that difficult to understand?"

"Well, maybe because you didn't even say anything when I said it to you just a few days ago!" Her mouth opens, and you assumed she was about to argue that she was drunk during that time, but she lets out a scoff, and that's even worse.

"You're pissed off about that too?" She seemed mad, and you nearly regret even blurting out the sentence.

You close your eyes with your hands, just wanting this to end even though it's just started and just barely scratched surface of what you need to talk about...or argue. You hoped it was the first one.

"Of course I am, Wanda! Where have you been?" You try your best to keep calm, but your voice was laced with anger. Hers though, was higher volume than yours.

"At work!" She walks around to the front of the couch, and you slide your hand down your face. Her face looked so believable, but you knew it wasn't the truth. You saw it with your own eyes.

"Bullshit." You whispered, looking at her with tired eyes. She gets confused and sits down on the couch, her eyes focused on you. You shift your position.

"What? I'm not ly--..." Her voice was a little high of a volume, and she doesn't finish her sentence when she hears you take in a shaky breath.

"...I...saw you." You said quietly, and Wanda, having been caught up in trying to make you believe her had to go quiet in thought of what exactly you mean.

She swallows down a lump in her throat, her eyes catching yours.

"Saw me?" She asked, her voice reducing down to almost the same volume as yours.

"You...were with someone else." You were shaking and your breath was trembling. You willed everything in your body not to sob while trying to get the rest of the sentences out. Her eyes widened at your words, and that was it.

"And I know it's not another person, because I saw your face." You point your finger to her, gently pushing on her chest with it to enunciate your words. Gently. You were never the type to lash out or be rough even when you were angry.

She goes quiet. Both pairs of your eyes were welling up with tears, that much was obvious. Any other words she's had before had died in her throat.

You see a tear rolling down her cheek from the side, and you held your hands back from wiping it off.

She looks at you, guilt swimming in her eyes, and she takes a shaky breath in before letting it go.

"...There's really..." She looks away from you, unable to even stare back at you. Your heart felt heavier than you knew it could.

"...nothing I could say or do to make you feel better." She said tearfully, her lips going down as she thought of her next words. She swallows her collected saliva again. That hit you like a million little glass pieces piercing through every part of your living, loving soul.

There really was not much she could reason with other than the fact that it had been true. She's fallen out of love with you, but even she didn't want to admit it.

"I've been with someone else. I...wanted to tell you. I just didn't know how." She admitted with her shoulders going up at her last words. There it was. The truth coming straight out of her mouth. Your lips nearly trembled, but your teeth sank down on it.

"How...long?" You ask, and you almost didn't want to know, but for the sake of closure, you urged on. She stays quiet, her own hands gripping the couch.

"How long, Wanda?" You pressed. Was it a month ago? It couldn't have been longer than that.

"Only after eight months of us moving here." It was before you even had your break. You made the math quickly in your head. You moved in a little more than a year ago, so it's been...six months?

You had been in this devouring hole for six months, and you hadn't even realized it. And she didn't tell you or break up with you. Instead she requested a break. No wonder your hope had died to sparks and to nothingness.

"What?" You whispered under your quivering breath, your head tilting in disbelief as your eyes spilled out in silent tears.

"Wanda." You say her name softly. She looked down in her lap as you let out another breath that nearly sounded like a sob. She sniffles, and you know the both of your hearts are breaking.

"Why?" You ask, although it was more of a thought from your head that spewed out unintentionally rather than a logical question. She couldn't answer. She didn't have an answer herself. It just happened. That's how it always is.

"...I thought you loved me." Your voice was small, as if speaking any louder would make the entire universe disappear in fear, just like your love had.

"I did! Or, I do!! I don't know!!!" She blurts out, not being able to decide which one. Her body had deflated at the high chance of losing you tonight.

"So you fell out of love with me completely?" Your eyes watch her carefully, and just for a vivid moment, she hesitantly, just barely nods.

"And you didn't think to just...break it off." You whisper, although it was more of a sentence to yourself. But she heard it anyway. It was obvious what you were pointing towards in your sentence. She sighs. She knows she's taken a step she couldn't take back.

Really, how can someone bring theirselves to having a full conversation about falling out of love? It's a difficult thing to do. Sure, you'd be heartbroken either way, or somehow you would have been able to work it out, but you supposed something else in you just wished you hadn't suffered all those months hoping for absolutely...nothing.

The two of you sit in the silence of what you'd think is death, not knowing what exactly to do with it all. The love you once had was gone. Or at least...hers.

Something spins around in your head. It's been spinning for ages since she had called to take a break, and you had hoped you never had to say it, but what else was there? You could start over, but this love had already started over before. Or had tried to. Technically it was both. This was the end of the road.

"...It's over." You whisper out into the room, and Wanda finally glanced up at you, her face full of heartbreak. Even though she probably saw it coming. You've seen that look before, and your stomach was about to collapse at even a second of it. You kept the eye contact though, needing to fully close this.

In a way, you searched her eyes, for some reason, still searching for anything that once was. But there wasn't anything but hopeless desperation.

"No...no please, I need you." She says, taking breaths in between as she cried. You hated seeing her like this. But you hated going in circles just as much.

"If you really did, then you wouldn't have done such a thing." She had nothing else to say to that. It had been your breaking point. You averted your gaze and stood up, hesitating for a moment, but eventually going off to the bedroom as she sat there in the consequences of her actions.

You walk into the room and close the door, locking it right after. You gently lean your head against the door, while silent tears freely move down your skin. The supply of water in your body was definitely infinite for today. A part of you wanted to laugh at the mere thought, and just to cope, but you were too tired to even do so.

You take in a breath, looking up to the ceiling as you felt your throat swell up, but you try your best to be quiet. You'd hate for her to hear you sob in the other room. She might be doing the same thing herself. You squeeze your eyes shut for a short time, wishing for it all to just stop.

And technically it's about to.

Gently, you push off the bedroom door and your legs take you to the front of your closet. The next move was obvious.

Your hands clenched theirselves as your eyes stare at the closet doors. You take a look around the room, taking in the space with your eyes lingering on some parts. The book Wanda hasn't finished reading. She stopped reading it ever since she started to disappear. You should have seen the signs.

The little teddy bear she got, the daisies you got her in the corner of the room, the DVDs she has in the TV stand, the music collection you have next to it.

You rip your gaze away and let your hands open the closet doors. A travel bag and a luggage bag was just under the hanged clothes, sitting within a compartment.

With trembling hands, you slide both out, putting them on the bed and unzipping them. It was the same bags you used to move into the house.

You grab some of the clothes you once shuffled through just earlier this morning, making sure to remember which ones are Wanda's, and not yours.

They were placed into the bags, and you stared at the folded shirts. They looked wrong. You throw your head back with a sigh, frustrated. The bed dips when you sat on it, the bags moving along just a little with it.

What are you thinking? The promise to stay, to fight through it all, it had all fallen apart. The one person you didn't leave after just a few months, and yet here you are. Packing. You let your body fall down completely on the mattress, legs dangling while you stared at the ceiling.

How many times have you stared up there? You don't even want to know. Before you lost all motivation and your emotions ran slow, you slowly prop yourself up to your arms and got back up. If you stopped now, you won't be gone in the morning.

Toothbrush, toothpaste, everything else you need and all the essentials. The last of it gets stored in the empty parts, and with the quiet sound of the zipper zipping, it was done.

With a relieved sigh that you could now simply lay on the pillows, your arms splayed out, your body giving up the last of its energy. You definitely couldn't get up anymore to do anything else.

This was the last night you were sleeping in this bed.

The crickets couldn't be any more louder with filling up the silence. You hated it. It felt too short, but all at the same time, it feels like it's gone on for too long.

Your vision faded into black as your mind stayed loud, up until it crept into your dreams. She slept on the couch that night.

In the morning, you woke up heavy and go through everything as if you didn't even sleep. Not even a cold shower helped you. Honestly, it might have just helped numbing the pain in your chest instead. You gather your items, gripping your bags tightly.

What if you just drop them and simply isolate yourself in the room? No. You shook your head, walking over to the door.

Your hand remains on the cold door knob for a short while, and you almost stay long enough to have it warmed up from your skin. It gets twisted though, and you open it.

If not for the sleeping figure on the couch, it would have been an empty room. You walk out to the front door with your eyes lingering on her.

Maybe her love was too good for you anyway. You just couldn't give her enough. Or too much. It didn't even make sense anymore. There was no in between your heart and mind could agree on. Even you didn't know what you were thinking.

Just as you click open the lock and went to open the front door, she slowly awakes. The shuffling makes you turn to look at her. You catch the realization and sadness in her eyes when you locked sights. Damn the loud clicks and creaking sounds of the doors.

"Where are you going?" She asks, but it was more of a question, than her wanting to stop you.

"Somewhere that isn't here." You say quietly, like a secret thats not meant to be said. She stares off into a space in the room, lost in thought.

"I really am sorry." You hold your breath a little longer, waiting for her to say something else. But she didn't.

There wasn't anything possible to heal the broken love you held. Maybe if she gave in, but her hands had been touched by someone else and her lips...perhaps had met another's.

"I love you." You whispered impulsively, although quiet and quick, it made sound to reach her ears nonetheless.

But yet, she was silent.

You stare at her for a second more, and few seconds too long to say you're determined in leaving. She wasn't looking at you.

You take a step to turn, and the door slides open with the pull of your hand.

You take another, then when you're outside and the door closes gently, the quietness of it all consumed you.

You check your belongings, you had your bags, your watch, your phone. You have everything except for her.

You check your last pocket, and in it were the keys to the house. You slide it off and it clinks, a familiar sound that you hated made your heart skip a beat every time you heard it.

You leave it off somewhere at the front of the house, and you hope you don't remember where you put it.

It all blurred together as you went to your car, turned on the engine and drove off. Of course you had a plan in mind. You've thought about it a hundred times, but you never thought you'd go with it.

The car arrives to a stop, near the place of your favorite cafe. But you aren't going out. You just needed to drive away from the house.

"Fuck." You cursed under your breath and slammed your fist on the steering wheel, and somehow your hand had slid down to the horn, making you bump into it and the car beeped loudly. You jumped, and looked around alertedly, but no one was there. The sidewalks were empty.

You relievedly let out the breath you were holding once you made sure you were in the clear. Thankfully, it wasn't lunchtime or the weekend.

"God," the word comes out under your breath as you shook your head. The thoughts in your head were harsh, and your shoulders slumped at it.

"How could I have ever possibly thought I was actually the one?" You whisper to yourself, staring at the logo of the car, still somehow shiny, just sitting there in between the controls even from how much you've driven the car.

You grip the steering wheel, but then you notice your arms being covered in a certain cloth. One all too familiar, one you chose in instinct in the morning. You look down on the sweatshirt you're wearing, and it was obvious. It was Wanda's.

You clench your jaw and your hands move to peel it off yourself, the sweatshirt turning into a jumbled up piece of clothing that was inside-out. You didn't even want to look at it, so you threw it to the backseats. You'll deal with it later.

Soon, you went to grab your phone, your hand shaking as you turned on your phone, trying your best to find a certain contact. You hold the device tighter, trying to stop the shaking. But you couldn't.

When you found it, you were hesitant to tap on it, your mind loud of everything bad that could happen. But it was Kate. You take in a shaky breath and tapped on the call button, exhaling your breath as you put your phone to your ear.

"Hello?" Her voice comes out gently. The kinder tone almost makes you let out a breath of relief. Your shoulders relax only a little though.

"Kate?" You ask in a whisper, fiddling a little with your steering wheel and tracing the round shape, the texture brushing the skin of your fingers.

"Hey, what's up?" It was still gentle, but there was a hint of concern in it. She can already tell something was wrong even though you barely said anything.

"Um...I..." Your breath was shaky, and she could hear it. On the other side of the phone, Kate was frowning, but she stayed quiet as she gave you time to get your words out.

You were nibbling your bottom lip as you thought about how to talk about your situation, and in the midst of the moment-- "...Wanda and I broke up," you spew out the words, your mouth not even caring to follow your mind anymore.

"What? What happened?" She was certainly shocked, and you look out the window, trying to distract yourself while at the same time speaking to Kate.

"She was with someone else," you say. The florist you once saw a few months ago came out of his store, greeting a customer outside. It was like you were watching a scene you were once in, in another person's view.

"Oh, shit." She swore out unintentionally, the surprise taking over her mouth. "Sorry," she apologized quickly, and you can imagine her blinking to get ahold of herself. It almost made you let out a soft chuckle.

"...I'm sorry, Y/N. God, I could never imagine Wanda would have done that." Kate said quietly. She adored your relationship together, that much was true, but she also saw the parts of Wanda that you wish weren't true. Yet this, this was an unexpected turn.

"...And since I left the house, I can't even sulk in bed or anything." You let out a gentle breath of a laugh, but it was more of a nervous one.

"I mean, I should've had a plan but-- we'd just keep seeing each other and it just...hurts." The florist had said goodbye to the customer who bought the flowers. He seemed happy as he rewrote some things on his little chalkboard. That man was definitely living his best life.

"Where are you gonna go?" She asks, and you go silent. You couldn't go to Carol's. You wouldn't. She's living with Maria and Monica and you probably wouldn't have a room to sleep other than in the living room on the couch. You wouldn't want to intrude on her living conditions anyway.

"I don't...really have anywhere to go to, so anywhere, I guess." You sink into your seat, looking down in your lap to stop staring at people. Kate was silent for a moment, and you're guessing she either didn't know what to say, or is thinking about something.

"My place is available to you if you want to come. You're always welcome here," she offers, and your eyes relax while your fingers fiddle with theirselves, thinking it over.

"...If that's okay with you. I mean, I don't want to intrude on anything--" You add on after quickly, but you get cut off by Kate.

"It's fine. Don't worry about it, I've missed having you hanging around. And I promise you, I have two forks and spoons now so we don't have to share one or get a plastic one from Mcdonald's that'll break after a few minutes." She jokes, and that actually made you laugh.

"Okay. Okay, thank you, Kate. I'll be there tomorrow." You sit up more properly, getting ready to drive to the airport. You hadn't visited her in a while, so you already had money ready.

"I will be there to pick you up. Okay? Do not get a cab," she says sternly, and you take in a big breath only to let it out as a small sigh.

"Kate," You say sternly back, wanting to protest and not burden her more. But she hums in disagreement. You know she cared about getting you safe and being the best friend she is, but your head was killing you.

"No. No, Y/N. I am not letting you cry in a cab awkwardly first thing you get out the airport." She argues softly, and you let your shoulders down in defeat. At your silence, she waits.

"I'll let you know when I land." You give in, your voice small.

"Okay, good." You can hear the relief in her voice, and your lip tugs up into the smallest smile

"See you, Kate." You were about to end the call, but she speaks up again.

"Hey."

"Take care of yourself."

"I'll try."

"See you."

The call ends, and you start driving.

end of chapter 5.

Series Masterlist <- Chapter 4 Chapter 6 ->

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[acourtofmishapandmistakes]

Under Summer Stars

Azriel x Reader Fic

Summary: In Under the Summer Stars, the scene unfolds at the illustrious birthday celebration of Tarquin, set against the picturesque backdrop of the Summer Court. As the night descends into a playful chaos of laughter and drunken antics, the story centers around the heartwarming and sometimes chaotic experiences of a pregnant protagonist, you, her close-knit circle of friends, and their significant others, as well as your mate, Azriel. From navigating the complexities of motherhood and friendship to rekindling sibling bonds with Tamlin and igniting old flames, this fic covers a lot of ground. Amidst the revelry, unexpected moments of vulnerability and hilarity ensue, leading to a night that promises to be unforgettable.

Warnings: Mentions of sexual activity and brief nudity, along with pregnancy.

Word Count: 5.2k

Authors note: This includes only info from ACOTAR and does not include any background from Crescent City. Also, this is my first more lengthy fic so please read with that in mind! As much as I read, and reread this, there are bound to be typos so if you see them.... no you didn't.

“My love, you can't exactly camp out on the couch all day,” Azriel says. I glance up at him with a package of raspberries neatly arranged on my very pregnant belly. With a grand gesture towards the pile, I pop another berry into my mouth. “I’m not just hanging around—I’m busy making a baby here.”

Azriel grins as he snags a berry from my fingers and eats it himself. I shoot him a playful scowl, the kind meant more in jest than anger, and focus on devouring the rest of the berries.

“I do appreciate you taking a break from your hectic schedule to grow our little one,” Az jokes, his hands gently caressing my belly, “But we've got plans tonight, and you need to get ready.”

I let out a heavy sigh and dramatically flop my head back over the chair’s armrest, letting my hand, still holding a berry, dangle to the floor. “I really don’t wanna go,” I moan, while Azriel steadies the berry basket that's perilously close to sliding off my bump.

“You have to,” he chuckles softly.

“You can't make me,” I shoot back, my head still draped lazily over the back of the chair.

“I wouldn’t dream of it,” Azriel retorts, picking up the basket of berries and giving me a quick kiss on the forehead before taking them back to the kitchen.

I hear the tap running as he starts on some dishes—my ever-busy, nesting mate, who’s more prepared for this babe than I am, while we still have three months to go.

“What are you wearing?” I call out, curiosity peaking.

“What?” he yells back, sounding puzzled.

“Your outfit,” I clarify, pushing myself up with a grunt and swinging my legs around. While I still had time, this belly was proving to be a real hassle.

Azriel calls back, “Um, pants, a sweater and socks?”

I shuffle my way into the kitchen where Azriel stands, washing a plate with a tea towel casually thrown over his shoulder. “I mean, what are you wearing out tonight?”

Azriel dries a plate with the towel, then hangs it back over his shoulder before leaning casually against the kitchen counter, his palms resting on either side. His fingers tap rhythmically against the surface as he considers his wardrobe for the evening. “Probably the black button-down, slacks, and boots,” he decides with a nonchalant shrug.

I respond with a noncommittal “hm,” and swing open the fridge to scout my snack options. My hand lands on a jar of rhubarb jam. I pop the lid off and swipe a finger through the sticky sweet contents, humming in delight as I taste it. Azriel's chuckle floats over from the sink.

“It’s just not fair,” I complain, scooping another dollop of jam and licking it off. “You toss on anything that isn’t stained, torn, or stinking, and you’re gala-ready.”

Azriel, still busy with the dishes, throws a playful retort over his shoulder, “Are you suggesting I wouldn’t look good in a dress?”

I replace the jam in the fridge, leaning against it as I try and ponder that image. “Oh, you’d be stunning, no doubt. But let’s be real, the choices for females? Endless. Short dresses, long ones, off the shoulder, petticoats, sleek lines, just the right amount of lace…” I trail off, knowing he's smirking without even looking.

He finishes up, turning off the water and tossing the towel onto the counter with a flick of his wrist. I sigh, grabbing the towel to fold it neatly on a cabinet knob. Azriel rolls his eyes but his expression softens as he draws me close by my hips. I rest my chin on his chest, looking up into his hazel eyes that crinkle with amusement.

“What?” I inquire, feeling his hands smooth a stray hair behind my ear.

“You’re gorgeous, whether in ball gowns or in nothing at all,” he says earnestly.

“You’d think I'm gorgeous in nothing,” I retort, half-teasing. “You’re feral.”

He presses a soft kiss to my nose. “Only because I love you.”

I close my eyes, basking in the warmth of his words. “I love you too. But I still have no clue what I’ll wear tonight. Nothing fits since you knocked me up.”

He steps back, feigning offense. “Hey, it takes two to tango, particularly the naked tango. It’s not like I was alone in this.”

I glance down at my swollen belly, half-joking, “Well, you’re the responsible one. Should’ve warned me about the perpetual sweat and swelling.”

Azriel chuckles, striking a mock-serious pose. “Nothing fills me with more hope for our baby than hearing their mother call me,” he gestures to himself, “the responsible one.”

I roll my eyes playfully. “I’m sure you have something, love,” Azriel reassures me, nodding towards the lavish extension we jokingly call 'the second closet.'

I scoff, a smirk teasing my lips as I walk past him, giving his chest a light tap. “Guess I’ll just have to try on everything,” I tease, pausing in the doorway with a sultry glance over my shoulder. “You know, strip down, wander about in the buff, slip into something, despise it, peel it off...” My voice trails off, my smile growing more provocative as I catch the shift in his gaze—lips captured by teeth, eyes deepening with interest. “I might just need a second opinion.”

Azriel’s response is a deep, throaty sound that rumbles through the room, his playful side unfurling. “I’m certain I could be of assistance,” he quips, his tone laced with promise as he begins to close the distance between us.

Before he can reach me, I slip into the hallway, my steps light and teasing. I hear his footsteps quicken, a hint of urgency as he follows me up the stairs to our room, anticipation building with every step.

______________________________________________________________

By the time I settle on an outfit, Azriel has left me breathless no fewer than three times, each interlude accompanied by a chorus of compliments—beautiful, stunning, irresistible—every synonym for 'ravishing' that he can think of. The silver lining to this pregnancy, aside from the obvious, has been the noticeable spike in our libidos. Azriel's hands are seemingly glued to me, and barring the occasional wave of nausea or the fact that my toes have become a distant memory, I'm game for his advances nearly anytime, anywhere. It was actually our rampant escapades that clued us in on the pregnancy before Azriel noticed the shift in my scent—we were both equally wild, seeking out secluded spots in the River House, shadowy alleyways in Velaris, and once, rather riskily, an old woodshed in the Autumn Court while Rhys and Eris were busy hunting nearby. 'Feral' might be an understatement—I was downright voracious.

Emerging from the bathroom, a cloud of steam billowing behind me, I find Azriel sprawled across the bed, as naked and carefree as ever despite our looming engagement. He flashes a lazy grin. “Round four?” he proposes, propping his head on his palms against the headboard.

“You're the one who insisted I get ready,” I remind him with a chuckle, tossing the towel onto the bed and striding toward the closet.

As I delve into the sea of clothes, Azriel's voice floats in, tinged with mischief, “And then you stripped, and suddenly, I stopped caring.” I can't help but laugh, sifting through hangers as I search for something that will accommodate both my bump and the sweltering heat of a Summer Court party in August. I wanted a word with whomever planned the date for this. 

I pull out a floor-length, champagne pink silk gown that gleams with a light pearlescent chiffon cascading down the front. The dress, cinching just below my breasts, seems ready to accommodate both myself and the growing babe. The slit running up the side promises a hint of breeze on what I accept will be another warm evening. As I touch the fabric, memories of wearing it to Nyx’s first starfall flood back—Azriel and I, not yet mated, laughing under the twinkling lights while Cassian, wine glass in hand, serenaded the night with a mix of folk songs and his own tipsy renditions.

Slipping the gown over my head, the bump causes the hem to rise slightly, creating an unintended high-low effect. Nothing a good pair of heels can’t fix. I reach behind to fasten the top but struggle with the buttons. "Az," I call out softly.

"Yeah?" His voice drifts from the bathroom, mingling with the sound of running water.

"Can you come here for a second?" I ask.

Azriel appears, his hair tousled and falling into his eyes, which light up as he sees me. “You still have that one?” he remarks, a touch of nostalgia in his tone.

"I haven’t worn it in a while, but it seems to still fit, right?" I motion for him to help with the buttons at my neck, which he does with practiced ease. He stands behind me, and we both gaze into the closet’s full-length mirror. He wraps his arms around my waist, gently lifting the weight of my belly for a moment. I lean back against his shoulder, relieved by his support.

"Just like I said," he murmurs, his eyes meeting mine in the mirror. "You look beautiful." He eases the weight back down and sweeps my damp hair over my shoulders, leaving a kiss on my temple. "Half an hour," he reminds me before disappearing back into the bathroom.

I take another moment to smooth the dress over my bump, admiring the silhouette from the side.

Azriel returns from his bath, towel-drying his hair with a shake that reminds me of a playful puppy. I'm securing my hair into a low braided bun, trying to keep as cool as possible. I pull two strands to softly frame my face, catching glimpses of Azriel in the mirror as he parades, unabashedly bare, back into the closet.

From the depths of the closet, Azriel's voice floats out playfully, "Hm, what to wear, what to wear—so many options." His mock contemplation sends a chuckle through me as I clasp on a pair of simple pearl earrings.

He emerges moments later, his black shirt hanging open, pants secured, and socks in hand. "It was a tough decision," he remarks, catching my eye in the mirror as he settles on the edge of the bed to slip on his socks. "But I managed to pick the perfect ensemble." He flashes a cheeky grin, and I roll my eyes playfully as I fasten a silver necklace with a tiny blue sapphire pendant—echoing the color of Azriel’s siphons—around my neck, adjusting it to rest just right.

Turning back to him, I see Azriel buttoning his shirt, meticulously placing his siphons into the custom slits designed for them. I step closer to assist with securing one on his left hand.

Giving him a thorough once-over as he completes a slow twirl for my inspection, I adjust his shirt slightly, smoothing my hands over his shoulders. "Do I look great?" he asks, half-jokingly.

"Beautiful," I reply, grinning. "Can you grab my shoes for me?"

He strides over to the blanket chest at the foot of our bed, retrieving the tan, two-strapped heels I'd selected for the evening. He juggles them in his hands, skeptical. "My love, there's no way you're going to keep these on all night."

I shoot him a defiant glare before setting the heels on the floor and sliding my feet into them. "I plan to."

But as I lean forward to fasten the straps, my belly firmly intervenes, making me pause and push a strand of hair behind my ear. I look up at Azriel, who's barely concealing his amusement. "Little help?" I ask, sheepishly.

Dropping to one knee, Azriel secures the straps for me, his fingers gentle. He plants a kiss on my thigh and mutters, "I’m not carrying these all night."

I nudge him away playfully, marching back to the closet to grab a pair of flat sandals. I hand them to him with a mock-serious tone. "Here, ask Rhys to stash these in a pocket realm in case I need them."

Azriel laughs softly, tucking the flats under his arm as we head out of the bedroom together.

______________________________________________________________

We converge with the rest of our group at the River House where Rhys and Feyre have arranged to winnow us directly to the Summer Court. Unlike Rhys, Azriel encourages me to maintain my normal activities during pregnancy, thus making winnowing an accessible choice. Cassian, Nesta, Rhys, Feyre, Azriel, and I begin our descent from the manor, with Elain cradling Cassian and Nesta’s baby girl, Nyx playfully tugging at her dress and waving eagerly to his parents. Feyre sends Nyx a blown kiss, which he theatrically catches and presses to his lips before launching one back her way. Rhys places a hand on Feyre’s lower back, open to the breeze from its low cut to bring her focus on our departure. Lucien appears in the doorway, his son perched high on his shoulders, as they wave us off. “We’ll be back later!” Cassian bellows toward the house.

Lucien shouts back with a teasing tone, “No rush! And be on your best behavior!”

Cassian responds with a vulgar gesture and Elain slaps her hand over Nyx’s eyes to shield him from it. After enduring a pregnancy marked by relentless morning sickness, Nesta found solace in the ocean's breeze. She spent much of her time at Tarquin’s castle, situated atop a cliff with sweeping views of the sea. Tarquin, empathetic and familiar with the challenges of parenthood, graciously readmitted Cassian into the Summer Court, with the strict caveat that Nesta keep him in sight at all times.

With an arm slung around Rhys, Cassian is the first to be winnowed, followed swiftly by Feyre and Nesta, and then Azriel and me. Although I can still manage the winnowing process, a twinge of motion sickness usually follows. Nonetheless, I prefer it to flying, which only prolongs the discomfort. As we materialize on the steps of the Summer Court palace, Azriel steadies me with gentle hands at my waist as I lean forward, taking a deep, stabilizing breath.

“You alright?” Azriel inquires.

I nod, the fresh ocean breeze helping to soothe my senses. Once assured of my steadiness, I take a moment to absorb the breathtaking view. Tarquin has chosen his "Summer House" for his hundredth birthday celebration—an amusing choice given its grandeur. Situated on a cliff opposite his main castle, easily visible across the bay, this secondary residence is no less opulent. Sandstone columns and marble steps lead to grand doors beautifully inlaid with blue and pink seaglass, while orbs of faelight suspended in fishing nets add a whimsical touch. With the sun dipping below the horizon, the sky is aflame in vibrant shades of pink and orange, creating a spectacular backdrop as we ascend the steps.

As we proceed, Azriel casually hands my sandals to Rhys, who offers me a knowing smile before they vanish into a pocket realm.

The grand doors swung open, revealing the entrancing melody of a live band in the foyer. The interior of the house matched the exterior in opulence, with a domed glass ceiling that bathed the marble floor in the sunset’s spectrum. Seashells were intricately embedded in the floor, and the familiar columns from outside now stood amidst streams of crystal-clear water that seemed to flow through the hall and cascade down the stairs. As we advanced, I marveled at the pearl mosaics adorning the high ceiling, a grandeur that left me nearly speechless.

Pulling gently on Azriel's arm to draw him closer, I whispered conspiratorially, “I want to change the theme of the nursery.”

Azriel chuckled, giving my hand a reassuring squeeze. “It took Cassian and me a week to paint it the color it is, and you mulled over those two shades of yellow for three weeks beforehand.”

Cassian's voice floated from behind, tinged with mock horror, “If you’re asking me to paint again, you’re on your own.”

At the top of the grand staircase, the crowd below melded into a vibrant tapestry of colors and movement. Feyre, in her flowing turquoise gown, descended gracefully with Rhys by her side, navigating through the crowd with practiced ease. Azriel and I followed, his hand a constant presence on my hip, grounding me.

I scanned the sea of faces for a particular one, but as the crowd parted, I found myself face-to-face with Tarquin instead, his smile broad and slightly tipsy.

“Look who brought in the bats!” he exclaimed jovially.

Rhys clapped Tarquin on the shoulder, wishing him a happy birthday. He then picked up a glass of champagne, offering one to Feyre, and they toasted to Tarquin’s continued health. After the brief exchange, Tarquin turned his attention to us. Azriel exchanged a firm handshake with him, while Cassian, standing slightly behind Nesta with his hands on her shoulders, received a more personal summon.

“Cassian,” Tarquin slurred slightly, his eyes glinting with mischief, “I want to show you something.”

Cassian looked down at Nesta, who responded with a nonchalant shrug. He then followed Tarquin out onto the balcony, his curiosity piqued. Azriel watched them leave with a guarded expression.

Nesta, catching the look, nudged Azriel gently. “Just go make sure Tarquin doesn’t throw him off,” she urged.

“On it,” Azriel replied briskly, striding after them with a determined pace.

Nesta grasped my hand, weaving us through the bustling crowd, muttering how she was going to need a stiff drink to get through this night. Since the birth of her daughter, Nesta had been grappling with intense separation anxiety, rarely managing a few hours away. She and Cassian had attempted a weekend trip getaway and she made it only four hours before returning in tears, taking her young babe from my arms and sobbing into her jet black hair. Since then, Nesta had promised she was going to stop being “mama” all the time and start being herself again. 

We reached the bar located near the grand staircase, where a fae female was expertly crafting cocktails. Nesta ordered a “Seabreeze,” and I opted for a lemonade.

“I can’t wait until you can drink with me again,” Nesta said, picking up her drink. The swirling glitter within the blue liquid looked delicious and I found myself licking my lips as I watched her down it. “You’re the only one who can keep up with me when we dance.” She said before ordering another. 

“Not too much longer,” I responded, caressing the babe within me. 

Nesta looked at me thoughtfully, the blue glitter swirling in her glass, “I want you to have a girl, so Elora can grow up with a friend. Not surrounded by Feyre and Elain’s boys.” 

I smiled at her, I had asked the healer to keep the baby’s sex a secret from everyone but Azriel who, as spymaster, kept that information under lock and key. 

My gaze returned to scanning the crowd, and finally, I spotted the familiar broad shoulders and gleaming blond hair of my older brother. I tugged at Nesta’s hand, leading her over toward Tamlin. As he sensed my approach, he turned swiftly and enveloped me in a hug.

“Careful!” I cautioned, a mix of surprise and laughter, before he gently set me back down on my feet.

Tamlin scanned me from head to toe, his eyes alight with surprise and mirth. “I didn’t know you’d be here!” he shouted, his speech slightly slurred from the drinks.

“I wasn’t sure I would make it, but I figured why not enjoy myself before the baby arrives,” I smiled back at him.

Nesta, still holding a subtle grudge against Tamlin for the whole “cauldron fae thing”, glanced at her nails and offered a cool, “Hello Tamlin.”

Tamlin, ever the optimist about winning back some favor, took her hand and kissed it—a bold move he’d likely reconsider sober. “Nesta, lovely to see you. You look stunning.”

And stunning she was in her pastel green gown with its daring neckline and slits, revealing her long, toned, cream colored legs— her dress, much like mine, but tailored to hug her figure perfectly. “You’re drunk,” Nesta quipped, pulling her hand away with a laugh.

Tamlin’s smirk widened. “Only a little. I would’ve paced myself had I known my favorite sister was coming.” 

“For what? It’s not like she can party hard right now,” Nesta pointed out, gesturing towards my pregnant belly.

Realizing his faux pas, Tamlin’s eyes widened, and he awkwardly placed his hands on my stomach. We were never a family that embraced often, and his sudden affection felt out of place. “I forgot!” he exclaimed. “Hi, baby!”

Trying to stifle her laughter, Nesta shot me a look that triggered my own snort of amusement.

“Tam, maybe it’s time for some water,” I suggested gently. “It’s still early, and you’re already peaking.”

Shaking his head, his blonde locks falling into his eyes, Tamlin pulled me into another hug, elongating the word “great” as if to emphasize his point. “I’m great,” he insisted.

“I just miss you, that’s all,” he murmured, his voice muffled by my hair. “I miss the name-calling and our hunting trips. Remember those?”

“Like asshat and idiot?” I replied, finally managing to extricate myself from his grip. His nostalgia often painted a rosier picture of our past than my own memories did.

In a moment of pause, he suddenly asked, “You promise you’ll bring my niece to see me?” he asked earnestly, searching my eyes.

“I promise, Tam, though I’ve told you—I don’t know the baby’s gender yet.”

“It’s a girl,” he slurred confidently. “I’d bet on it.”

Nesta joined in, “You could make that bet. Rhys and Cassian think it’s a boy. Feyre and I are betting on a girl.”

Attempting to high-five Nesta, Tamlin found no takers and ended up clapping his own hand. “Hell yeah, team girl!”

“Where’s Lucien?” he then asked, trying to shift the topic.

“Home with the kids,” I informed him.

“That old man,” Tamlin scoffed, his drink sloshing dangerously. “Has one kid and thinks he’s too good for a night out.”

Laughing, I couldn't help but tease, “Tam, you’re really drunk.”

“Am not,” he protested weakly. “You’re drunk.”

“Sure,” I agreed, rolling my eyes indulgently.

He squinted across the ballroom, waving vaguely. “Gotta go see a guy about a thing,” he declared, stumbling slightly as he made his exit after a quick, affectionate peck on my forehead.

As he sauntered off, Nesta and I couldn't contain our laughter. “I haven’t seen him this plastered in ages,” I noted, reminiscing about our younger days spent lounging by the lake in the Spring Court.

Catching her breath, Nesta added, “He’s actually tolerable when he’s like this.

I wiped a tear from my eye, still laughing, though each breath was a bit strained around the edges due to the baby pressing up against my lungs. Just as I managed to catch my breath, I heard my brother's boisterous shout, "Who do I have to screw to get a screwball around here?" Sending me into another peal of laughter.

Nesta, pulling herself together, wiped the smeared eyeliner from under her eyes and snagged a champagne flute from a passing waiter.

My laughter seemed to stir a frenzy of activity within me; I placed a hand over my stomach as a particularly vigorous kick landed just under my lungs, knocking the wind out of me. I doubled over slightly, laughing through the discomfort, while Nesta leaned in with a worried look. "Are you alright?"

"Totally fine, the little one just got a bit too excited," I assured her, patting my belly. Nesta reached out, asking to feel the kicks, and when my baby delivered another strong jab, her face lit up with a mix of awe and amusement. "Certainly strong," she remarked.

"Unfortunately for me, yes," I agreed, sharing a knowing smile.

Her eyes filled with nostalgia. "I so miss that."

I gently placed my hand over hers. "I try to remind myself I’ll miss it too. Usually I do a good job, until she decides to kick my bladder and I end up pissing myself."

Nesta chuckled, her hand instinctively resting on her own stomach where her little one had grown not so long ago. I squeezed her hand affectionately. "You doing okay?" I asked, noting the slight tension in her expression.

She offered a tight-lipped smile, her eyes betraying a hint of her inner struggle—the pull to return to her child who, despite adoring her father, seemed to reserve her deepest affections for her mother. "Just say the word, and I’ll fake a headache, or actually wet myself, and we can bolt."

Nesta shook her head slightly, more to reassure herself than me. "No," she paused, then stronger, "No, this is good for me. I know she’s fine."

I squeezed her hand again, offering a gentle reassurance. "Just because she's okay doesn't mean you have to be," I reminded her softly. Nesta wiped a stray tear from her cheek, still clutching her champagne, before quickly finishing it off with a relieved smile.

"I am glad I can do that again," she said, nodding towards her empty glass before setting it on a passing tray.

Together, we continued weaving through the ballroom, exchanging pleasantries with various courtiers—some of whom were so tipsy they scarcely remembered who we were. Throughout my pregnancy, I'd never been offered so many drinks that I had to politely decline. It seemed every mother and elder fae woman felt compelled to touch my stomach, causing my little one to energetically respond.

Every so often, I bumped into my brother, and we playfully stuck our tongues out at each other. However, as we mingled through the crowd, neither Cassian nor Azriel crossed our path. Eventually, we found Feyre, just as a Summer Courtier excused themselves from her company. She gave them a warm, promising touch on the shoulder before turning to face us. With a deep sigh and a quick roll of her eyes, Feyre shot back her drink—a twirling pink concoction that made her wince from its potency.

"Having fun?" Nesta inquired, a hint of sarcasm in her tone.

Feyre, still recovering from the fiery liquid, nodded. "Absolutely. I love playing the diplomat at other courts. I can't really start drinking until everyone else is well into their cups." She then snatched Nesta’s wine glass and drained it. "Can't afford to make a fool of the Night Court."

I chuckled to myself. Feyre might have been slightly tipsy, but as High Lady, she only truly relaxed around family. After many evenings spent with her, I knew her tolerance was notably high—we'd even had a shot contest when I first came to live with them. In my enforced sobriety over the past seven months, I had observed the high fae's love for maintaining a facade of sobriety, despite obvious inebriation.

"Have you seen Az or Cass?" I asked, scanning the room.

Feyre glanced around, her brows knitting slightly. "No, I haven't, actually. Not since they stepped out onto the balcony with Tarquin."

"Where's Rhys?" Nesta chimed in, her voice laced with mild irritation.

Feyre threw her hands up, nearly clipping a waiter bustling by with more drinks—which she quickly commandeered. "Don’t know. He wandered off somewhere when I was chatting with what's-her-face. Haven't seen him since."

"Fantastic," Nesta remarked dryly, "We’ve been here an hour and the boys' club has already managed to vanish on us."

While Nesta and Feyre chatted, I slipped into a corner to send a gentle pulse through our bond. Receiving no response, I intensified the signal, only to get a slight jolt followed by Azriel's slurred, "What's up, pretty lady?"

I turned back to Nesta and Feyre with a grin. "They're drunk."

I messaged Azriel again, asking, "Hi my love, where are you?"

His chuckle echoed down the bond, "Beach."

Realizing that was all the information I was likely to get, I informed Nesta and Feyre, "They're on the beach."

"They left?!" Nesta half-yelled, frustration mounting. "I want to leave!"

Seizing our hands, she led us through the crowd, up the stairs, and out the door. Outside, her braid loosened, hairs springing free as they often did when she drank. Spotting a sign for the beach, she marched us in that direction. Feyre, slightly tipsy, giggled and leaned on me as we followed Nesta.

Reaching the sandy path, Nesta kicked off her heels and hiked up her dress, staggering forward. Feyre and I quickly followed suit, Feyre removing her own shoes and then helping me with mine before we continued on with Nesta, the tall seagrass swaying in the night breeze.

The pathway was lit by fae lights, and the cool ocean wind caused goosebumps to rise on my skin. Feyre held my hand for balance as we walked, with Nesta leading determinedly ahead.

When we finally reached the beach, Nesta scanned the bonfires for our mates. Feyre, losing her footing in a dip, fell onto the sand with a shriek of laughter. I couldn't help but laugh as she lay there, the sand clinging to her dress and hair.

Her laughter contagious, Nesta turned and joined in, stumbling over to help Feyre up as the wind pressed her silk dress against her legs. Without warning, Feyre threw back her head and called out, "Rhysand!" Nesta shouted “Cassian, get your ass over here! I want to go home and drink without clothes on!” This promptied laughs from other partygoers.

When Nesta tried to yell again, I quickly covered her mouth, accidentally getting sand in her mouth, which she spat out as Feyre howled with laughter.

Down the beach, Rhys's voice called back, "Feyre Darling!" Pointing in his direction, Feyre declared, "That one's mine," and staggered off toward the boys.

Nesta, wrapping an arm around me, leaned on me as we followed. Soon, Feyre charged into Rhys, sending them both into the sand, while Cassian's laughter boomed over the crashing surf, nearly toppling him from his driftwood seat. Tarquin, adding wood to the fire, doubled over with laughter.

Nesta settled next to Cassian, her arms crossed and her gaze fixed on the ocean. "Hi Ness," Cassian slurred, pulling her into his lap and showering her with kisses despite her protests. "Stop, stop," she laughed. "I'm supposed to be mad at you."

"You can't resist me!" Cassian declared, landing another sloppy kiss.

Meanwhile, Azriel sat in the sand, a bottle of wine in hand, his smile lighting up as he saw me. Dropping beside him, I laid my head on his shoulder. "Hi," he whispered.

"Hi," I replied, seeking a kiss which he tenderly delivered, his lips tasting of sweet strawberry wine.

Azriel stashed the bottle in the sand, wrapping one arm around me and lazily stroking my stomach with the other. Together, we took in the serene scene—Feyre and Rhys wrapped in each other's arms, Cassian and Nesta chatting with Tarquin, all of us enjoying the moment.

There, with Azriel and our soon-to-arrive baby, I soaked in the beauty of our world, filled with anticipation for the new life we were about to welcome.

[yoursweetheartsrevenge]

Disease - Chapter Three - Him - Amelia

Summary: Ettore finds himself face to face with a new inmate, his ex. Will their tragic circumstances bring them closer together or be the end of them?

Chapter Summary: Who is she? Memories plague Amelia as she attempts to figure out what Ettore really means to her.

Read on AO3

Read Ch 4

Warnings: smut (female mastrubation, p in v sex), illusions to past noncon, fluff if you squint, MINORS DNI, 18+

Word Count: 2.3K+

Author’s Note: Now we get into the nitty gritty of some of Amelia and Ettore’s past. I really enjoyed exploring their past relationship and what exactly a relationship with someone like Amelia entails.

Chapter Three - Him - Amelia

The room smelt like him. 

So distinctly him that it brought her back to feeling his neck with her nose on days she didn't want to get up. She could nearly hear his beating heart now. Amelia could smell his aftermath, salty and sticky, in the stale heated air of the room. She looked down to see the thin white streaks spread across the bench. She reached down to touch it, arousal building up in her core. She dipped her fingers into his spend then brought them to her lips. 

She was disappointed by the flavor. It was stale and unpleasant. She remembered when they were together how she would find him eating chunks of pineapple or drinking pineapple juice. It was a silent gesture to make sure he tasted good when she had him in her mouth. He had tasted sweet back then. 

Sometimes he was just that. 

A sweet treat. 

She sighed looking around the room feeling the need to release the tension that had been building the moment she stepped foot on this ship. Amelia always knew Ettore would be here. It was the bloody reason why she had suggested herself for the mission. She had been run through test after test to make sure she still had enough eggs in her womb for the sicko doctor’s fucked up experiments. She didn’t mind being probed and prodded as long as he was here. 

Now that she was so close to him she found herself willingly ignoring him. He hadn’t come to her either. He had only recognized her with a slight eyebrow raise then kept his head down the entire time avoiding her completely. She tried to ask about him to one or two other prisoners curiously. The women thought him a creep, which was understandable given Amelia’s knowledge of Ettore. He stared a lot and gawked when he shouldn’t. His lack of care for obeying social norms always made her proud of him. 

“Fuck society, I’ll do what I want.” He had told her. 

She admired that about him. 

The men, Monte particularly, told her to avoid him. He didn’t know much about his personal life back on Earth, but he did know a fraction of his crime. 

“He’s a rapist.” 

Well, fuck, she knew that. Not from personal experience. Ettore had never forced himself on her. He never needed to. She was always willing to touch or not touch him when he needed her. His former life before they had gotten together held that title. She supposed it continued after, to a degree. 

Nobody to reign him in , she thought. 

Still she thought he might be intrigued to see her. Amelia looked down at her hands remembering the last she saw him. Her hand reaching for his hand, hers scrubbed dry with blood. He hadn’t taken it. He had left her alone on that beach. 

She promised herself she would think of happy times only while here in The Box. It was a machine meant for masturbation. She looked about seeing a saddle with a variety of sizable dildos. She turned it on watching it work. There was a small compartment underneath the machine that stored lube. As she worked to prep the machine that would aid her release she sent herself to a memory of happier times. 

The door shut with a loud thump. Her bag felt heavier than usual that day. She winced at the weight of it in addition to hearing the whine of reality television in the living room of her penthouse flat. Sometimes she hated living on the twelfth floor, but the view was bloody fantastic and certainly could not be beat. She saw Ettore lazily stretched out on the couch watching the telly as two women fought for what appeared to be a man’s affection. 

She set the bag down heavy next to the door with a loud huff. It was only then that Ettore turned to look at her. His eyes were wide with curiosity and unspoken concern. They were at the point in their relationship where words seemed to be unneeded. Little gestures like setting a bag down too heavy signaled exactly what her day was like. 

A bad one. 

Ettore shifted to sit on the couch making room for Amelia. She slipped off her heels, clad in only in her thigh highs, a navy pencil skirt, and her white button up. Her blazer was stuffed in her bag. She noted the empty coffee cup in the sink remembering that morning. He had made her a cup of coffee exactly how she liked. Loads of cream, two sugars. She had been in such a hurry that she had neglected their morning ritual. 

A peck on the lips and a hug. 

She had only pecked his lips, drank the last sip of coffee, and then was off running out the door. 

Amelia settled on the couch beside Ettore. He had changed into sweats and a navy sweatshirt that had been too big for her when her mum bought it. It was from the university she graduated from and Ettore had taken to wearing her rejected clothes if they fit him. She lazily put her head on his shoulder. He kissed her temple. 

“Forgot something this morning.” He told her. She nodded. 

“Not too late?” Amelia asked with a small smile. 

“Nah, love, come here.” Ettore pulled her into a tight embrace. She hugged him back tightly feeling the exchange of touch and squeeze to be incredibly soothing. 

After the hug she returned her head to his shoulder, but he held a protective arm around her giving her a reassuring squeeze. 

“Bad day then?” He asked. 

“My boss absolutely despises me.” Amelia winced remembering the day’s events. She watched a woman swing a vase in the direction of a man’s head on the tv noting she wished she could have done that today. “He took me off the Petermen account.” Ettore shifted to look at her. 

“The fuck?! You worked so damn hard to get that account for that prick and he goes and . . . let me guess he put that cunt of a son of his on it, right?” Ettore’s anger was adorable as he recalled everything she had shared with him about her job at a marketing firm. 

“Yeah, well, nepotism at its finest right?” Amelia felt Ettore squeeze her shoulder. 

“Don’t let that ruin your evening, love. Besides we know all those cocks in there are jealous of the strong independent woman you are. You’d fuckin’ run circles around them. They are afraid of you.” Ettore kissed her temple. “My strong woman.” she moved her thigh against his leg in appreciation and a bit of desire. 

“Let’s not let it ruin our evening.” She mused turning to face him. 

Her eyes told him everything he needed to know. 

“Yeah?” He asked, looking at her lips. “Alright, let me help you relieve some tension.” 

Ettore leaned forward, capturing his girlfriend’s lips. Amelia felt good as his hands pulled her on top of him. Their lips never left one another, hungrily moving in time together with practiced and measured speed. Their tongues knew one another well enough to create an erotic experience for her. She felt his hands under her skirt squeeze her ass. She whimpered feeling him massage her muscles. Her hips rolled as a commercial played in the background for detergent. 

“You alright?” she asked, feeling his cock was still soft. 

“Yeah, fuck, just tired.” Ettore said, rubbing his temple. “Don’t stop, though.” He leaned forward, capturing her lips. “Let me make you feel good.” The sucking sound of their kisses turned her on more, but Ettore was still soft. 

“Are you sure I could -” Amelia started lifting up but Ettore pulled her down. 

“Let me make you feel good. Don’t worry about me.” He captured her holding her hostage to an onslaught of kisses and caresses.

Several minutes passed of pure erotic desire fueled by their lips crashing into one another. All that time it felt good to Amelia, but she was concerned he wasn’t getting hard. 

“Ettore, love, wait . . .” At that he immediately stopped, looking at her. 

“What’s wrong? I can feel you’re wet.” He teased a thumb on her soaked panties. “I told you not to worry about -”

“Well I am worried about you!” She shouted. “I love you too much not to worry about you!” 

The pair of them stared at one another wide eyed. 

It had been nearly a year since that night in the alley. 

Nearly a year since the first time they made vicious animalistic love in her bed. 

Nearly a year since she had told him he could sleep on her couch. 

Never had she said those words 

Never had he said those words. 

But here they were staring at each other, her straddling him on the couch as she had let those words pour from her heart. 

She felt his cock stir breaking the tension. 

“Well I guess that did it.” Ettore said with a smirk. “Just needed a reminder who he belonged to.” 

Amelia laughed then realized there were tears in her eyes. 

“Don’t cry, love. Even if it’s happy. Hate seeing you like this.” He kissed up her tears. “And yeah, me too.” He didn’t actually say it, but it was enough. 

She held onto the straps above her head as the machine fucked her senseless. She rocked back and forth groaning remembering that fuck after she had spilled her heart out. 

She had tugged at his sweatpants lightly before fumbling for the remote. She didn’t want to have sex to some reality show. 

“Fuckin’ leave it. I need you.” He moaned, hiking up her skirt. 

She did because she needed him too. Amelia pulled down his sweats and boxers quickly letting his growing erection spring forth. He nearly ripped off her panties. Ettore aligned her bare cunt to his rigid length as they kissed frantically touching each other’s faces. She sank down on him with a delicious groan. 

Amelia rocked her hips forward and back riding him as he cursed out. She held his face kissing him hungrily whispering his name. He loved hearing her in the throes of passion saying his name like it was the only name ever to cross her lips. He pulled her flush to him as she rode him. 

“That’s it, let go.” He told her as he pulled at the buttons of her blouse with hands and teeth. He spit one button out, letting it click to the floor. He buried his face into her tits moaning and drooling as her pace picked up. 

Amelia felt him thrust eagerly upwards inside her. He was so safe and warm there. She wanted to never let him go. In response her muscles tightened his cock in a grip as if stating he was hers.

Hers.

Hers.

Hers.

“Release the tension, love, let me make you feel good.” Ettore instructed. 

What he should know by now was that every time he felt good, she felt good. 

“You feel good, love? My pussy treating you well.” Her voice went high at the last word. 

“Pussy is treating me like a king. I’m gonna cum for you soon. Where do you want it?” She felt him kiss the flesh of her breasts. 

“Cum inside me.” It was the first time she had said this. 

Usually he came on her tits or thigh when they had forgotten the condom. He had never cum inside her, but she trusted him enough for that now. She was on the pill and she trusted him. 

She trusted him. 

She loved him. 

“Yeah?” He asked excitedly, lifting his head from her breasts. 

“Yeah, go on then, cum for your girl. Make me feel good.” She kissed him, quickening her pace as he did too. 

All she could hear was her slapping wet cunt fucking his hard cock, balls slinging upward. The occasion confessional rang in the background on the reality show, but fuck if she cared. He was fucking her so good she saw stars. 

“Ettore!” She cried out as she felt blissful release envelop her from head to toe. 

“Amelia!” He followed grunting as her cunt milked his load inside her. He felt warm and sticky spilling inside her, grunting like a pure beast. 

She admired his face, eyes squinting, mouth half opened pushing his thrusts upward as if this was the best nut of his whole life. Who knows? Maybe it was. 

She fell onto him kissing his sweaty chest. 

“All better now?” He asked breathing through his words. 

“Yeah, fuck them.” Amelia laughed feeling his cock soften inside her. 

“Yeah, fuck them.” Ettore breathed out, kissing her sweaty forehead. 

“You want Chinese take away tonight?” Her chin rested on her boyfriend’s chest as she looked up at him with sparkling eyes.

“Sure, you know what I like.” 

She started to get off of him. Amelia watched as he pulled his boxers back on, but not his sweats as he got more comfortable on the couch. She stared at him seeing how beautiful he looked spread out. 

“What?” Ettore smiled as she watched him. 

“Get to bed.” Amelia told him softly. 

“Yeah?” Ettore’s eyes lit up. “You sure?” 

“Yes. I’m sure.” It was where he belonged. 

She had never let him sleep in her bed before. Sure they fucked there, but she sent him off to the couch to sleep. She never let him sleep next to her. She never let him in fully. Never let him into her vulnerable place, where she rested and slept, and he had respected that. 

Now she wanted him there. 

She wanted to wake up next to him. 

Because she loved him. 

Loved.

Loved

Love. 

Amelia came hard as the device pummeled into her. She quickly stopped it before it overstimulated her. Shit, she realized. She still loved him. 

Now she had to figure out how to get him back. 

[wanderingpages]

‧͙⁺˚･༓☾Gentle Sins AU☽༓･˚⁺‧͙

“Are you going to help me take my clothes off too?” I meant it to sound teasing – I wanted to show him I could play his game too – but I was breathless, I was buzzing with anticipation.

“You know it wouldn’t end there, Jude,” he gave me a wry look. “It's a shame,” he rose and ruffled my hair, “It's a shame you’re my sister,” he murmured, needlessly reminding me. “Because that was some damn fine pussy, baby.”

TFOTA // All Human // AU : Jude and Cardan do things step-siblings shouldn't do.

Trigger Warnings: Crude language, Allusions to Drugs/Alcohol, Debauching Catholicism/Religious Metaphors, Taboo Sex.

Shoutout @headcannonxgalore for holding down the set ❤️

Jude's POV

Cardan is never home – at least not when I am, which is usually always. As far as I knew, he stayed with his dad, went on long vacations, and otherwise only met up with his mom once in a while. So, it irks me a little when I see him waiting for me after my last final, asking, “Are you ready to head home?” Home – as in my home.  

He waits for me to pack and say goodbye to my friends, then leads me to his car, and holds the door open for me. “You’re staying with us?” I ask a few minutes into the drive, finding whatever was on the radio to be a little annoying and dull. I open the glove compartment, nosily, sifting through the pack of wipes and snackbars, and pull out a thin worn out book. It’s mostly a discolored yellow, with red writing, in french, La Chute – The Fall by Albert Camus. I flip through the pages, surprised to see dog ears and sticky notes throughout. 

“My father isn’t in the country, and why be alone, when I can be with my favorite sister?” His eyes are on the road but his wry smile is directed at me when I glance up at him. He reaches over and takes the book from me, tossing it to the back of the car. “You don't need existentialism now, Jude.”

I grimace; it’s not as if I could read French anyways, though it is surprising that Cardan has that copy in its original language. “Is it your favorite?” I ask. I wiggle my brows, “Do you think you, too, have fallen from grace?”

His smile is Cheshire in response, “Since the day I met you, little sister.” I cross my eyes upwards. 

I scrunch my nose,“You can be so….” I trail off, wanting to say infuriating or annoying, but I didn't really need to, he already guesses it. 

He responds, “Likewise.” He must sense the incredulous look I give him because he checks me, “You could have said no. To the drive home,” he says, for instance. “Me, in your dorm,” he begins to list, making me feel incredibly self aware. “Walking you home from the party – being in the same room as me at that party, actually. Ghost would have found someplace else if you asked. Even prior to that,” Cardan tells me, “You could have told me no at the reception. But you didn't. We have these cute little trysts for a few hours and then you pretend it’s never happened. I guess you’re kind of like your dad, in that way.” He says the last bit quietly, but I frown all the same. Before I can ask him what he means, he admits, “It’s okay, I’m like my dad too, for even putting up with it. I guess I like being strung along.”

“Cardan…”

“I like stringing you along, too. It's fun to see who’d last the longest. It’s fun to see how far this would go. Do I get to drag you to hell with me, little sister?”  I should be bothered by Cardan’s words, but he’s not wrong. His introspection makes the car feel stuffy, so I roll down the window and let the air rush in. He grins and turns the dial on the stereo louder, singing along softly to the lyrics as if they are proving his point. “And you'll find yourself praying up to Heaven above, but honestly I never had much sympathy 'cause those bad things, I always saw them coming for me…I'm gonna run, run away, run, run away, run away…” Bad Things by Cults – it is a jarring song; calm and disruptive, a lot like how it feels being in this small space with him. My pointer finger grazes the knuckle of my thumb absently. I rest my head back, listening to his voice. 

“You’re kind of a dick,” I finally tell him. Of course he knows this, but saying it out loud made me feel less lousy about how he’s painted me.

“I must have gotten it from Mom.” I frown at that, finding it to seem untrue. The more time I spend with Cardan, the more my view on my stepmother starts to shift

I hesitate to ask about his dad, to go back to the reason he’s driving me home – Asha’s first husband. Did Asha string him along? Is that what Cardan was getting at? Is she doing the same to my father and I? Is my father aware? “Why didn’t you…” I trail off when I realize it really isn’t  any of my business, but still, he prompts me to continue. “I mean, I guess, why didn’t you spend more time with Asha? Did she not have shared custody of you or something?”

His eyebrows shoot up, and I turn in my seat to look at him, waiting to see if he’d tell me to fuck off or not. What he says instead, throws me off, “Asha was deemed unfit to parent.” I blink hard at this, in disbelief. If he notices, he doesn't say anything about it. Instead, he shifts the conversation to me; asks about my mom.

“She… I don’t know,” I admit, probably for the first time in my life. “She left me – us, Dad and I, when I was five. I don’t know where she is. I think she’s started a new family somewhere else.” I face forward and rest my elbow on the door handle, absently nipping at my thumb. As an afterthought, I say, “Maybe she’s dead.” he hums out a response, but he has no clue of the spiral he’s sent me on. Or maybe he does, and that's why when we stop for gas at the next rest stop, he tosses me a first aid kit. He waits until I put the antiseptic cream on and wrap thin gauze around my knuckles. My cheeks heat; he had noticed when my fingers started to bleed. In truth, Cardan doesn't really even need gas, so I say thank you and give him a bright smile when I’m done. 

He tilts his head and reaches for my hair, brushing it back behind my ears. He looks like he wants to say something but thinks better of it at the last moment and instead asks if I’m hungry. “There’s a diner a few miles ahead.” biding more time with him, I nod my head and let him pay for a meal. 

The diner is cozy, but I’m not in the mood for a big meal, so I settle for a slice of cherry pie. We are at the darkest corner of the diner, and while it feels pretty private, I’m still keenly aware of the scatter of guests coming and going. Because of where we are seated, it takes some time for the waitress to notice, then even more time for our food and drinks to arrive. We are mostly forgotten here in this pocket of the diner. I don’t think I mind much, though.

I steer the conversation to less heavy and more neutral topics. I ask about the frat house and why he’s not actually a part of it. When he tells me his dad donates a hefty sum of money to the college, that surprises me. I guess, there really is a lot about him I had no idea of. “I'm an honorary member,” he shrugs, “It’s kind of hard not to be when Daddy funds their lifestyle.” I crack a smile because Cardan can be dorky sometimes. I ask about his relationships with the other members, I suppose wanting to know more about his stance on Ghost, really. If he would have been okay with anybody creeping into his room with me that night. “Ghost is my best friend. It would have been a fight had it been Locke or anyone else,” he divulges, and though I shouldn't be startled by his honesty, it still makes me feel a little too warm. Then he admits, maybe selfishly considering his track record for the past few weeks, “If he had gone further, I would have buried him.”

My eyes get wide and when I say, “That's not fair,” it comes out in a whisper.

“I know.” 

Cardan had ordered a burger, so when it finally arrives, he pushes the platter more to the center of the table and tells me to eat some of his fries; he halfheartedly jokes that I'd probably get sick if I only eat sugar for lunch. I take a few to appease him, nibbling them almost thoughtfully. “That's a visceral reaction,” I come to terms with. “Your best friend?” I blush when I remind him quietly, “you’re the one who told me to open my mouth.”

“I rather his load in your mouth than on your body or in your cunt,” he says graphically. I cough in shock but he’s not bothered. “Plus, I think you look cute with a dick in your mouth.”

I scowl at him after reaching for a sip of soda. “What makes you think you have any right over my body?”

“I know I don't.” He picks at a fry, “I told you, baby, you could have said no.” I’m taken aback but I should know by now, my step brother is anything but a liar. I ponder his admittance of jealousy, but also his acceptance that he really had no say - only what I let him have say over, and I realize, I let him have say over a lot. “You could have ignored me and hopped on his dick. Maybe it would have been a blow to my ego, but then I probably wouldn't be in this diner right now with you.” He always says so much while saying so little, doesn't he? “Anyways, if you decide to tell me to fuck off and pursue Ghost instead, you should walk around with condoms, because I know he doesn’t.” It’s so offhanded that I don't even really process it as anything more than banter. 

“I’m on birth control,” I tell him indignantly, willfully ignoring all else that was said. “I don't want to be with Ghost, anyways.” I let him take that as he may and I dig into my pie as if to end the conversation there. I want to let him know I don’t want to be with him either, but that would be lying and despite myself, I just couldn’t tell Cardan to fuck off.  After a while, I notice him staring. “Do you want some of my pie,” I offer.

“Is that a euphemism?”

I shift my head to the side as if I’m actually thinking about it. My feet finds his under the table, and with my legs crossed, I have enough leverage to use my ankle to softly graze up his leg. “Do you want it to be?”

He catches hold of my ankle, uncrossing my legs to place my foot on his thigh. I lean back in the booth a little awkwardly, and lick at my cherry coated spoon. “What's the pipeline between mommy issues and wanting to bend your sister over the bathroom sink?” Cardan muses.

“Stepsister,” I tell him. I wiggle my foot in his grip. I have on snow boots and leggings, not at all looking as sexy as I feel right now. 

He shrugs and with his free hand, reaches across the table and dips two fingers into the center of the slice. “It makes no difference to me, Jude. Sister or not, I’d want you the same way I wanted you then, the same way I want you now.”  I watch as he pulls them out slowly, completely coating his fingers with the sticky sweet maroon. I follow his fingers to where he hovers them in front of his mouth then sticks his tongue out and flattens it against his digits, tasting the honeyed tart. I shiver and twist in my seat, eyes slowly drifting up to find his dark ones already piercing into my soul. 

“And…” my words come out breathy against my will. “How do you want me, now?” I play with fire to condition myself. Hell is hot, I’ve heard, and maybe Cardan does get to drag me there with him.

“I want you to copy me,” he says, huskily, startling me, my eyes growing wide. “I want you to stick your fingers in your panties and do what I do.”

My breathing gets erratic in mere seconds. I look around the near empty diner, like if I’m actually contemplating it. “You’re crazy,” I whisper. His eyes are teasing, daring me to say no to him, proving his point all over again when I don’t.

Cardan grins, “Take your jacket off, put it on over your lap. Don’t worry, baby sister, it’ll be our little secret.” His teeth scrape the tip of his fingers. I’m crazy, too, I think, as I do exactly what he asks. “I bet it’s already wet,” he leans over the table, talking quietly. I slip my hand beneath the elastic material of my leggings then under the cotton of my panties, glancing to see if anyone had caught on. Cardan catches my chin, fingerprinting it red and turning me to face him. “Is it?”

“Yes,” I whisper, embarrassed, but not enough to stop. “Soaking.”

“Good girl. Now watch,” he instructs, leaning back. He guides my leg to the side of him, spreading my thighs wider. He takes his cherried fingers and separates them into a V Shape. The tip of his tongue traces the inner part, slowly. I swallow thickly, shaking as I let my fingers follow along, circling the outside of my pussy, mirroring his movements. 

My leg beside him starts to tremble, but with his free hand, he holds me still, caressing me soothingly. He tongues the crook of his fingers and I hesitate before I begin rubbing my clit with matching vigor. My eyes flutter, and I try to hold in an embarrassing noise as my head falls back against the cushioned seat. My eyes are still trying to focus on him, matching the pressure, matching the rhythm, though struggling to even stay at half mast.  I bite my lower lip when he presses his fingers together and strokes between them wetly. He licks his own lips then asks, “How do you feel?”

“Good,” I mumble. Scared – “Nervous,” I admit, looking at him with blown out eyes and heat erupting all over my body. My fingers shake, but the shallow caresses make me shamefully wet. “Cardan,” I silently plead, my chest moving up and down sporadically, my stomach tightening, muscles contorting. “Come here,” I beg.

Without a word, Cardan complies, getting up from his seat to sit right next to me. I pivot slightly, leaning sideways into the booth. He strokes my hair back soothingly, and traces my lips with his still stained fingers. My lips part, just a taste of the cherries slipping through. I moan quietly and he says, “Don’t stop, okay, Jude?” I nod my head as much as I can with the way he holds me. He paints my lips methodically, over and over, and I find my fingers mirroring him between my legs. He watches, fixated on the way my mouth parts and moves, gasping and widening for his fingers to slip through. “I think…I want to do to you what Spring does to cherry trees,” he murmurs. “Open you up…watch you bloom.” 

My eyes screw shut tightly. His fingers probe my mouth, pressing down on my tongue. My fingers slide in too, entering with a slow pressure. He strokes inside my mouth and when he tells me to suck it clean, my stomach knots in response. I do; I suck until there is no trace of cherry left, no red stains or residue, and I finger myself in tandem. He pulls out of my mouth, a trail of spit losing connection when he finds his way under the jacket, following my hand, and adding his finger to my two. I whimper at his intrusion, and think, disoriented, three. Three fingers. 

He licks up my chin before he kisses me, letting me taste the forgotten smudge he’d left on me, while he slowly works both our digits inside of me the way he wants. I hold on to his sweater with my free hand, fingers gripping tightly as my toes begin to curl. My painfully quiet whines are being swallowed by him greedily. 

I yank him closer to me when the waitress comes by. I forget to breathe when she makes a squeak and with horror, my eyes flit to her blushing cheeks. She smiles bashfully, “Oh don’t mind me,” she says, not at all realizing what is happening under the table, “Here’s the bill, you love birds,” she giggled. God, we must look like teenagers making out back here.

Cardan pulls away only slightly, fingers replacing my frozen ones gently pushing them away, and sliding his two fingers deeper into me. My head falls forward, hiding my face in his sweater when he curves them just right. “Sorry,” He tells the waitress, holding my gaze. “I just missed her so much,” he lies. “Missed her in my arms,” he murmurs.

“Oh hush, don't be sorry,” the waitress says almost fondly and I feel only partially sick over it. She sounds further away, “I was young once too.” 

“Missed her pretty face when I made her come,” Cardan continues, speaking to me alone, lips touching mine every so often. He pumps me faster and I take a chunk of his sweater into my mouth, biting down on it so hard my jaw hurts. “Missed the way she felt when her pussy gripped my fingers.” I feel like I’m on the brink of death, gasping for breath, eyes starting to gloss. He holds my head back, making sure I’m in view of him. My ears feel like I’m underwater; everything is static except for Cardan and his words. For a moment, I forget where I am. He swallows my screams when I can't hold back, rubbing his fingers roughly, forcing my body to twitch against his. I bite down on his lips so hard but he takes it in stride, until I’m slumped against him, feeling absolutely weightless. He pulls away from me to kiss my forehead too softly for the utter seismic orgasm he’d just given me. When I lean back, Cardan looks as flushed as I feel. For once, his cheeks are the ones that are red and his forehead is glistening with sweat. His eyes are dazed, his lips swollen and red. 

“I… Are you okay?” I asked almost in a slur. I trace his cheek up to his ear, flicking the cross earring dangling from the first piercing. His dark eyes pierce mine when he brings his still wet fingers to his mouth and sucks them clean.

He smiles languidly, reaching in his pocket for a few bills I know is far over the actual amount necessary. He gets up first and leads me out of the booth. I use my jacket to cover myself up, and in a muddle, we walk out of the diner, hand in hand. 

He kisses me sweetly when we get to his car, and I kiss him back, because we can, for right now. He opens his trunk and I dig out the first pair of necessary clothing I find in my overnight bag and then he opens the door to the backseat for me, standing lookout as I awkwardly try to change.

“Cardan?” I ask when we’re on the road again. “Are you okay?” he’d been silent since I asked the first time back at the diner, I realize belatedly.

His smile is lazy and maybe even disoriented. “I don’t even like cherries,” he finally mumbles. 

I glance at his fingers instinctively, like I can still see the filling there. “Is it…is it out of your system?”

His brows furrow almost comically. “Cherries?”

“Me,” I tell him. When he doesn't answer, I explain, “We can't do this at home, Cardan… our parents…” he snorts at that, but never really gives me an answer.

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Masterlist

Gentle Sins Masterlist

[zilabee]

Sticky Fingers, by Joe Hagan:

- I love that Jann Wenner hired Joe Hagan to write his official biography, and then agreed not to have any editorial control over it.

- I love that he made a whole career out of interviewing people and then writing down things they didn't want him to write down, and he still went into the whole thing sure it wouldn't happen to him.

- I love that he handed over all these letters and records and contracts and taped conversations (there was a bit in the seventies where they just taped every phone call) from this enormous archive, dating back decades, and gave the author access to almost everyone involved. I love that they were all just honest about what a shit Jann was and Joe Hagan wrote that down.

- I love his mother. And his wife. And Annie Leibovitz. They're easily the three most interesting people in the book.

- I love the bit where he is having an affair with Art Garfunkel and his wife is having an affair with Paul Simon and it's very unclear who is trying to hurt who the most.

- I'm sad that Paul Simon refused to be interviewed, I assume he assumed that an official biography wasn't the place for all his feelings of writhing hatred, but it was, it really was.

- I love that it makes it so clear what a shit magazine Rolling Stone always was, and how zero care Jann Wenner had about any of the politics. Rolling Stone was never actually a voice for anything more than very needy men wanting to seem very cool in their wanky little minds.

- I genuinely love how actively he was against the political side of it all and didn't understand why he would care. I love that he purposefully decided it should be a gossip magazine full of drivel.

- I love the bit where the few political writers at Rolling Stone who still hoped it might stand for something, rebelled. And they published stuff they wanted to publish while Jann was out of town and it was their best selling issue and he immediately gladly took all the credit for it, while his writers seethed gently. I love that it happened twice.

- I hate that it felt like every time he was on the cusp of ruin a major star would die and boost sales and everyone would pretend he was wonderful again.

- I love the bit where Jann was probably having an affair with Richard Gere and he pasted shirtless photos of him into his scrapbook.

- I love that he keeps a scrapbook of invitations, letters, photos and articles as proof that famous people love him and like him. I love that Joe Hagan describes it as: The physical evidence of the story Jann Wenner told about himself. <3333

- I love how often people fall out with him and then NEVER speak to him again. I love that there's almost not one big thing you can point to about why he's a dick... I mean no, there are things, there's a moment early on, where he has sex with a girl and then has a dinner party the next night and uses their stained sheets as a table cloth in order to embarrass her, you know, there are a lot of things you could point to. But I think what I mean is there are also just SO MANY different ways he's just dreadful that it's almost unexplainable. He's incompetent and needy and horrible and just excruciatingly wanky. But he's not like a cartoon villain. He's just a bubble of disgusting ego.

- I think there was maybe one bit where I started to feel a bit sorry for him, like I guess if you tell someone everything about yourself, and how wonderful you are, and then they interview all your friends and you expect them to write about your magnificent business empire and how golden you are then... it's hard if this is the book they write. But whatever. I don't care enough to care, I just sat back and enjoyed the truthiness.

[veeveex3]

Making Out + Alone Time with the Juniors / Third-years

i didn't think that i'd reach 100 followers so fast nor did i think i'd get over 1000 notes on a post so fast. for that, i really can't say thank you enough! but i can write more kissing headcannons cuz y'all are a bunch of SIMPS (affectionate <3)

CW: suggestive / lime (if you ever told past me that i'd be using the citrus scale one day, i would think you where lying-), kissing, talk of erections and sexual fluids, petting and suggested heavy petting, a virgin's attempt at writing people just almost having sex, French, use of the following pet names: baby, babe, honey, dear, my beloved, love, and dearest, Leona calls you herbivore, mentions of spanking and drool, yuu / reader is gender neutral, yuu / reader's agab and genitals are never stated, made for 16+ readers do not read if you're under 16

an: i'm not gonna include lilia in this just cuz, assuming that you're yuu in this scenario or you just go to nrc, i don't think he's gonna kiss someone as young as silver ykwim. also, if i write stuff like this in the future, it's gonna be with the juniors / third-years (and maybe staff if there's a demand for that??) cuz the freshmen and sophomores are still technically minors and these headcannons are very suggestive and i just don't feel comfortable with that. i'll write romantic stuff for them, yeah (MINUS ORTHO AND GRIM FOR OBVIOUS REASONS) but i'll keep thinking purely romantic / platonic with them

Cater Diamond:

Cater, despite how it may appear, is really insecure

While he may flirt around and occasionally make out with people, he's never nearly been as intimate with someone as he has been with you

Usually, he'd be a lot more confident with making out with others

But with you, he lets you take care of him for the night

Cater throws his head back to moan, his hands gripping your waist as you grind yourself on top of him.

"Baby, please quit teasing me." He humps up against your crotch, hoping to get his release soon. He whines as he feels your hands push his naked stomach back down.

"Just for a little bit longer, ok?" You start licking his neck, causing him to have to cover his mouth to stop him from moaning any more.

"Let's at least finish stripping, please?" Cater thumbs the waistband of your underwear, biting his lip as you grind down harder against him.

"Not yet, just be patient." You say as you start to play with his hair. "We'll get to the good part eventually." He nods, hoping he can last long enough before then. You place your lips onto his, holding his face tenderly as you do so. He reciprocates the kiss, playing with your thighs as you keep grinding against him. You gently bite his bottom lip to let your tongue inside. Your hands rest on top of his as you feel Cater starting to tense up. You break the kiss and rub his hands.

"I guess you can't wait any longer, huh?" You tease, kissing his cheek as you stop moving against him. Your crotch feels sticky, whether from you or Cater you can't tell.

"Don't worry, babe" You lift yourself up slightly to slip your fingers under his waistband, "I promise to stop teasing you now."

"Please, baby, I need you." He holds you against his chest tightly, instinctively grinding back up against you.

Trey Clover:

Trey doesn't really have the time for romance, let alone anything remotely sexual, since he has a lot of responsibilities to do

However, he took his shot at having a relationship with you since he really does like you

And since he really likes you, he allows himself to indulge in the pleasure your provide for him every once in a while

Trey holds you on his lap, kissing you gently. His hands rest on your lower back, rubbing against it just as soft as his kisses.

"Thank you so much, honey" he says, quickly breaking the kiss, "I really needed this."

"You don't need to thank me, I like kissing you." You ruffle his hair and kiss his nose, making him chuckle underneath you.

"So, can I be a little more rough today?" His hands ghost against your bum, his eyes look back at you with hints of desire.

"Of course, I don't mind." The second you say that, his lips attach onto your's, far more desperate than before. His hands squeeze your butt; as you gasp, he uses it as an opportunity to slip his tongue in your mouth. His tongue roughly moves against yours, a lot rougher than you ever expected from him. His hands, similarly, feel heavy against you bum as he gives it occasional light swats. He breaks the kiss, his breathing is short and his eyes are hazy.

"I know this is a bit of a bold question," he bites his lip and rubs small circles against your rear, "can I smack your bum?"

"Yeah," your eyes wide but full of interest, "I'm ok with that." He nods as he starts kissing you again, hands gripping your butt again. Soon, he places the first smack against your bottom. He, again, uses your moans to further the kiss as he keeps rubbing your bum just to spank it. Once again, he breaks the kiss and grabs onto your dominant hand.

"You make me feel so good, honey" he says, pulling your hand off of his shoulder and slowly further down his body. "You wanna see?" You nod and he places your hand on his throbbing erection, his pants slightly damp from arousal. "You feel that? You made me like this, honey. So, are you ready to take responsibility."

Leona Kingscholar:

Leona, like I said before, probably made out with people before

Like Cater, it was less due to a lack of intimacy but rather because he wanted a way to release his pent up frustration

However, ever since he's gotten with you, he doesn't feel as frustrated and rather makes out with you because he wants to be as close to you as possible

Leona lays down on his bed with you on top of him. His tongue lazily dances against your own, his hands roaming along your lower half. He plunges his tongue further down your mouth, exploring your mouth a bit before gently pulling your head off by the cheek with a pop.

"Damn, you taste so good, herbivore." You groan at his lame excuse of a pet name.

"Y'know, you can call me something more romantic, right?" He laughs and playfully bites your bottom lip in response.

"Yeah, I can. But I think you're annoyed responses are a lot funnier, herbivore." He makes sure to emphasize the last part. You get fed up with his teasing, so you kiss him again. His eyes widen a bit as your lips embrace his own. He smiles though, reciprocating the kiss. As you kiss, Leona places his hand on your lower back pressing your crotch down against his own. You break your kiss in surprise and look down at Leona's smug expression.

"I didn't know you could be so gutsy, herbivore." He pulls you up slightly to adjust him self underneath you; his feet now lie flat on the bed, letting him grind against you easier.

"It's only because I wanted to stop you from calling me that painfully stupid nickname." He sucks his teeth, pressing you down against him again.

"Yeah yeah" he chuckles as he grinds against you, "If you hated it that much, I don't think you'd kiss me cuz of it, herbivore." He kisses you softly again as he rolls his hips against your own. His hands faintly rub against your body, touching as much of you as he can. Shortly after, he gives you a couple pats on the back, breaking the kiss. He looks up at you, pupils seemingly larger than before. "You wanna go further?"

"Yeah, I'd like that." He smiles, picking you up by the waist as he flips you onto the bed.

"Good, I need you so bad, baby."

Vil Schoenheit:

Vil doesn't really indulge himself in sexually charged make out sessions

He'd rather take his time to make sure that the both of you feel good

Right now though, he's really stressed out due to his acting career and other work

So you'd help him relieve some stress, right?

"I feel so wrong for acting so unromantic with you" He says as he breaks the kiss, "But, I would be a liar to say I'm not excited right now." He picks you back up and lays you down on his chaise, going right back to kissing you as hard as before. His hands pins your legs back to leave space for his own.

Vil picks you up by your waist, rushing you two to his bedroom. He's had a stressful day so far and all he wants to do is indulge in his favorite form of stress relief: you. Once he forces his way into his room, he locks it shut and pushes you against the wall, kissing you harder than he usually does. His lips, normally feather light against yours, feel like they're going to bruise you. His hands tightly hold your ass, making you realize how strong he is in comparison to his slender figure.

"Please forgive me for this, dear." He humps against your crotch, moaning softly in your ear. "Don't be afraid tell me if you want to stop."

"No, please don't stop." You whine into his ear, holding his back tight.

Rook Hunt:

"Thank you." He presses his lips back against yours. He tries to hold back his movements, but the warmth of your body is addicting to him, giving his hips a mind of their own. He shortly breaks the kiss to look at you. How he wishes he was the fairest of them all, it's so hard given how beautiful you are to him. His heart grows fuller thinking about how you love him despite how ugly he's being right now.

"I love you, Vil." Your hands move up to cup his face, his movements cease for a spilt second so he can lean further into your hands.

"I love you too." His voice is faint and soft to hear, but still ever present. His hips move faster than before, moans leaving both of your lips. As you can both feel your releases coming soon, Vil stops to take off his heels. His hand slowly reach for his belt, his other placed near your head to whisper in your ear. "Undress for me dear, I don't want our clothes to be ruined."

Rook, similar to Vil, would rather take his time when kissing you

He finds you beautiful and he wants to let you know that as much as he can

So whenever you two are free, which isn't as often as you two would like, he tries to make you feel as loved as possible

You and Rook are both stripped down into your underwear. Rose petals surround your body on the bed and a red, cinnamon candle lit on his desk. The two of you have been kissing and grinding against each other for what seems like eternity and neither of you have met some sort of relief. His lips dance against your own and his tongue matches your movements perfectly. Any effort to further the kiss mets you with Rook stoping to bite your bottom lip as a punishment.

"C'mon Rook!" You whine, hoping to let things go any further. However he goes back to kissing you, just as gentle as before. His hands trace over your body, writing words of praise and endearment into your skin. His hips slowly roll against your own, making you squirm at how painfully aroused you are. At this point, you think he'll just be teasing you for the rest of the night! That is until Rook separates your kiss with a thread of spit still connecting you two.

"Just relax for me, mon amour." He lies soft kisses from your neck, your chest, your stomach, and finally right over your crotch. "Is this alright with you, my beloved?" You nod your head, excited to finally have some stimulation on your genitals.

"I need you to say it, love." You frown and look away from him. "Don't look away, look at me when you tell me how much you want me."

"Please touch me, Rook." You plead, looking him in the eyes, "I need it." He smiles, leaning down to kiss your crotch. He chuckles at how aroused you've gotten, kissing the wet stain on your underwear and fingers playing with the waistband.

"Of course. Now let me take care of you, mon amour."

Idia Shroud:

Idia isn't used to any kind of affection, romantic or sexual

Hell, he thought that he'd be single forever until you forced him to acknowledge that you liked him

Even after you've started dating slowly after, he still isn't really one to make out

But if you wanted to, I guess he'd be willing to make out with you

If Idia knew that you two would start making out when he invited you over to his room, he would've been a bit more prepared than he is now. All he wanted to do was watch anime together, but one thing lead to another and now you're making out! You're sitting on his lap, using your tongue to explore his mouth and your hands teasing above his crotch. His moans and whines are luckily covered up with your mouth. He kisses are clumsy and and soft, treating you as if you were made of glass. In comparison, you kiss him a lot harder, your tongue intentionally pressing against his in order to make whimper and shift underneath you. He pants softly once your mouth leaves his, growing faster when you lightly touch his growing erection.

"Is this ok?" You lightly kiss his neck as your fingers touch his bulge.

"I guess..." His hands grips your waist as you palm his crotch, pretty moans slipping from his lips. Your hand rubs against his twitching bulge as you look at Idia. His face is covered by his hands but his flamey hair moves quickly like a roaring forest fire.

"Can I go further?" You hand quickens against him, making his moans heighten in pitch.

"You wanna touch me more?!" He moves his hands to look at you, his eyes lidded and slightly damp with tears.

"Only if you let me." Your hands leave his body, just in case he says no. To your surprise, he grabs your hand to place them back on his crotch.

"No, please, I..." He bites his lips, his normally blue flames growing pinker by the second, "I want you to touch me more, please?"

Malleus Draconia:

"Of course." Your hand moves under his pants to touch him directly. A whine forcibly escapes his lips, his hands now gripping your waist for dear life. You truly are gonna be the death of him.

Malleus loves you, and even then that's putting his feelings for you lightly

He's tried to put it into words how much your love has changed his life for the better, but it still doesn't seem to convey his feelings good enough

So he has to show you physically how much he loves you

Malleus pins you down to the bed, holding you hands in his above your head.

"It is ok if I kiss you, correct?" He looks at you longingly, lips already slightly parted. You nod your head, closing your eyes as he leans in to kiss you. His kisses are soft and gentle, yet his hands are firmly interlaced between yours, as if he's afraid you'll leave him if he held them even slightly lighter. You start to kiss him harder, wanting to further things for his gentle kissing. He gasps in response, giving you an opportunity to slip your tongue in his mouth. Malleus' eyes are blown out as you rub your tongue against his. He clumsily tries to replicate your movements, which you find rather endearing.

The moans he lets out inside your mouth are uncharacteristic for his intimating demeanor; the unanimously feared Malleus Draconia was slowly become putty in your hands just from a heated kiss. He slowly breaks away, drool dripping from his mouth. His hands let go of your's, placing them on your blazer. "May I undress you, please?" He smiles as you nod, taking your shirt and blazer off. He leaves small kisses down your body as he goes to take off your pants. He shuffles them off, eyes widening at your aroused state. Once you're stripped down to your underwear, he strips himself, his eyes not leaving your nearly nude form. Once he's done, you get up to kiss him again, tracing your fingers against his abs.

"Can I touch you?" You look down towards his crotch to make sure he doesn't misunderstand you. He grabs onto your hand, looking you in the eyes.

"Of course. Can I touch you as well?" You nod again, and he wastes no time cupping your genitals. "Good, now let me show my love for you, dearest."

[dreamypqulson]

— pull me out of the train wreck

requested by lesliesBBY on wattpad: "Hey! So I was wondering if you could do a one shot for Cordelia....We are her wife and we found out that we are pregnant and she is super excited since she isn't able to...then like Marie (idk how to spell her last name; she is the voodoo queen) takes us when we are alone...and she wants revenge on Cordelia for something so she takes us and threatens us and our baby in from of Cordelia (or by message) and Cordelia like breaks down and stuff...She finally finds us but we were beaten pretty bad and taken to the hospital and they don't know if we're going to make it.... You can come up with the rest of you do it but yeah it's just a lil somethin! Love the book btw!!"

pairing: cordelia goode x reader

word count: 3900

warning: blood, violence, kidnapping, needles, drugging, implied miscarriage, mention of death. please read with caution because this can be very heavy.

a/n: i hope you don’t mind but i changed Marie to witch hunters :)

"I love you. Be back soon" you kissed your wife's cheek and we're about to step out the front door but her fingers gently wrapped around your wrist, restraining you from doing so.

You looked back at her and saw that worry was painted all over her face. It was clear to you and everyone else that she’s was extra cautious with you ever since you got pregnant. She was nervous. She always wanted this but could never actually have it. Now that she finally got it -even if it's her wife that's the pregnant one- she's going to do absolutely everything to make sure you and the baby is safe and healthy.

She looked down at your protruding stomach and then back up at your face. Her eyebrows were knitted together the entire time. She hadn't let you go anywhere alone. Even if it was just down the street, you had to have at least someone with you. You didn't see why you need that supervision though. You've had a pretty healthy pregnancy and it wasn't like you would go into labor while out and about; you still had another month to go.

"Delia, she's fine and i'm fine. I'm promise you. It's just down the street. I'll be no less than thirty minutes." Only two months ago had you both found out the gender of your baby. And god, you were both so excited to have a little girl. Not to mention how all the other girls were very excited about this.

"Okay. Call me if you need me and-" You cut the supreme off with a kiss on her lips. Otherwise, she would've been blabbering until the sun went down. "I will. Bye, I love you" you smiled at her and this time, successfully got away, hearing an 'I love you too' from behind you.

It was only a few groceries that you were going to get. Cordelia was always the one to do it but she had been busy and stressed and you wanted to get out of the house anyways. So, you offered to go.

But it took a lot of convincing because you haven't even been behind the wheel since you and Cordelia found out you were pregnant. As much as Cordelia's over protectiveness could be a lot at times, you knew it was out of love and it made you feel very safe and confident with this pregnancy.

                                        ____

You safely got to the store that was literally a ten minutes drive from the academy and you quickly got all the things that Cordelia had wrote on the sticky note. You couldn't help but giggle at the little smiley face that she drew in the corner.

It was after dinner time so sun was already beginning to set. You quickly made your way to your car and threw the bags in the backseat. You never liked being alone but for some reason, you felt as if you were being watched.

You stupidly blew it off, thinking that you were only in your head after not going out alone for months on end.

That was until everything went dark. But you were still conscious so only a mere second later when the air had grown warmer, that it dawned on you that a bat was tightly over your head.

You kicked and you screamed and tried to use your powers but it was hard. You barely had energy when there was little human in your stomach that was using half of it.

Cordelia always told you that your powers spike in a time of crisis right now, that seemed far from the truth. You were being dragged away but it was clear by the amount of strong hands and male voices that there was more than one.

You could hear a car start up, clearly a van by the way that you were thrown into a big empty space. You started to sob. All you could think about was Cordelia and the little family that you were both so close to having. She was right, you told yourself. If you had just listened to her then you would be safe in her arms right now. You and You're little girl would be safe in her arms.

You felt someone inject a needle into your arm. You cringed and started to scream louder. This was the end. Just like that.

You heard the hard laughter of men and a car beginning to thump on the rocky road. Then everything went dark.

____

"Cordelia?" You groaned, voice hoarse. You could hardly open your eyes because your head hurt too much. You had figured that you had already had the baby and just knocked out right after. But by the way your stomach felt heavy and a shooting pain ran though your back, you quickly realized that, that wasn't the case and something was seriously wrong.

Your head was pounding and your entire body was sore. The surface beneath was hard so you adjusted yourself so you were sitting up.

You tried to reach up to rub your eyes but there was something preventing you from doing so. That's when you shot your eyes open.

You almost got sick right there. You didn't know where you were or what happened but you knew you weren't safe.

Looking down at your hands, you noticed them tied behind your back. What. The. Fuck.

You were sat on a dirty, concrete floor and there was only one bright light illuminating you. The rest of the room was dark and empty, impossible to see ahead.

"Cordelia?" You tried to scream but you felt so weak. When you looked down at your stomach, it gave you enough energy to at least try. Try for the baby. Try for Cordelia.

"Someone help!" You strained to pull yourself free from the hand restraints but it hurt like hell. You were sure that your wrists were bleeding and your circulation was if not all then close to being cut off.

"It's no use" a deep, male voice said. You gasped when you saw a tall figure walk out from the darkness. He looked like any normal man but to do something like this, he was pure evil. No normal man would do this.

"What is this?" You cried "What do you want?"

He laughed at you like you were a circus act. And there were laughs coming from the darkness. He wasn't alone. And you had recognized those evil laughs. They were the last thing you heard before you had been put unconscious. You remember being forced in the van. You remember the needle being put into your arm. And you remember the fear.

He didn't answer. None of them did. They were treating you like a dog. "Please let me go. I- I won't tell anyone. Please. I just want my baby to be safe and-" you stopped to try and catch your breath. It wouldn't be in your best interest to pass out again.

He took this as an opportunity to walk towards you. He walked so carelessly like he hadn't just captured a pregnant woman. He even had a proud smile on his face.

"Oh you silly girl" he whispered in your ear. You could feel his stubbly beard against your cheek and the smell of bear filling your nostrils. "Now why would we take you, just to let you go?" He tucked a stray piece of hair behind your ears, the rest sticking to your tear stained face. God, how you felt like you could be sick just from that.

You tilted your head further away from him and began to speak again. "Why do you want me? What could I have possibly done?" You we're speaking through gritted teeth. You're powers wouldn't even work. Who are these people?

"It's not what you've done. It's what your little lover girl has done. We're using you as bait. As a way to hurt Cordelia." His name so harshly rolled off his tongue. He didn't deserve to say her name. And just the thought of Cordelia having to go through even one ounce of this made your stomach churn worse than when you felt them throw that bag over your head.

"What the fuck is wrong with you people?" You screamed, too loud for your own ears to handle. That got you a slap across your face. You winced at the stinging pain on your cheek and tasted that metallic taste that blood had in your mouth. You spit out a mouth full of spit or rather blood onto the floor.

You let out a loud groan because a shooting pain went throughout your stomach, one that you haven't felt before. Tears streamed hard down your face. You would not let them hurt your baby.

The man walked back into the darkness. He looked so happy with himself. You bet they all did.

Just then had you remembered your phone. Cordelia wanted you to call her when you were on your way home. That must've been hours ago so she had to be looking for you by now. You knew that she wouldn't forget about you that easy, even while being loaded and stressed with a ton of work.

You frantically checked around your pockets for your phone. You knew you were being watched but you hoped that they weren't actually paying attention.

You couldn't find it in any of your pockets. You knew you brought it with you. You never go anywhere without your phone.

"Do you think that we wouldn't have emptied your pockets?" A man that had that similar look to him; stubbly beard, dark eyes, evil smile, walked out now. You looked at his hand. He dangled your phone in it. He was taunting you.

"Should we give your precious Cordelia a call?" You started to pull aggressively on the restraints, looking as if you were a dog tied up and had just seen a squirrel. "No! No you disgusting pigs! Leave her alone!" You screamed again.

He walked closer to you, giving you a kick in your side. You let out an inhumanly sound. Any closer and he would've hit the baby.

But they didn't listen to your pleads. They began to search through your contacts on your phone. You didn't ask how they got into your phone without the password because that was the least of your problems right now.

It rang once. And then again. And then she picked up. She never missed one of your calls, always answering right as you dialed her.

"Y/n? Where are you? I've been worried sick. Are you okay?" You could hear her voice from across the room. She was loud and frantic. You could even tell that she'd been crying. You wanted to scream out for her but you were swallowed by your own words when one of the men began to talk.

"Oh don't worry, she's perfectly fine. Isn't that right, y/n?" His voice pierced right through your ears. His words were clear but he made himself sound so careless and dreamy like he was just one of your friends.

"No! Delia Help!" That was the last you could say because another one of the men came from behind your and placed an extremely thick piece of duct tape on your mouth, restricting you from talking.

They didn't care that Cordelia was on the other line because you still earned a few more brutal punches and kicks from them.

"Y/n? Who are you people? What are you doing with her?" You could tell that she was trying to stay strong but the lump in her throat betrayed her. "You know who we are. Don't you remember Hank? Or have you forgotten so quickly?" Both you and Cordelia paused at that. That's when you both realized who these people really were.

"Y/n has nothing to do with this. Let her go!" something had ignited in her because she started to sound so strong, so angry. "If you want her then come get her. But sweetheart, I promise we aren't letting her go that easy."

And then he hung up.

That had outraged you. And the fact that you couldn’t do anything made you feel so useless. But you still had to keep fighting.

You started to go crazy. Or you felt crazy. Screaming the best you could with the tape over your mouth, kicking, pulling and pulling and pulling at the restraints. You felt like an animal.

"Boys!" The one who you figured was the leader of them said. One of them grabbed your feet to stop you from moving. Another injected a needle into your arm again. You violently shook your head but your movements slowly slowed down until you were finally peaceful and everything was black.

                                         ____

"Come on, y/n! Wake up please. Come on" a wavering, unsteady voice pierced through your ears. You knew who it was immediately. And you knew you were in a dream. There was no possible way-

"Y/n please" her voice became high pitched because her own tears had overpowered her. She asked you many times to wake up -you figured- and you weren't going to make her ask again.

You fluttered your eyes open. The bright light hurt your head but you didn't want to deny Cordelia of what she was asking you to do.

"Y/n!" she said. You only groaned in response, it's the only thing that came out. "Delia" you croaked. All you could see was her blonde hair and the figure of her because for some reason, your vision still hasn't fully adjusted.

"Hi baby" she started to undo the restraints. They were bolted to the ground but that didn't seem to stop the supreme. Soon your hands were free. You were free. She starting rubbing your wrists to try and generate your circulation again.

"I can't" you cried. You knew they were using you as a punching bag while you were asleep because you felt far worse and had cuts, bruises, and blood where you didn't before. "I can't make it" you started to sob, not being able to wipe your tears because your energy was far too gone by now. But Cordelia went to cup your bloody cheek and wipe the tears away, just for new ones to replace it.

"Yes you can. Don't say that" you looked away, feeling a rush of shame course through you. Cordelia hooked her finger under you chin and gently guided your attention back to her. Your breathing was starting to get heavy and you didn't know how much longer you could last with this lack of oxygen.

"Look at me. You can do this." Her words held so much, they always lit something in you -even in your darkest moments- that made you say maybe I can do this.

But right now, it didn't feel the same.

You knew they didn't only beat you, but your baby too. She was a strong girl through these eight months but a person can only take so much.

Your glassy eyes flickered to your legs. Although you weren't surprised, you were still shocked to see blood pooling around your legs. That was it, all hope had been lost.

You didn't trust your voice enough to speak. That was if you had a voice left. You tightly gripped onto Cordelia's arm. That was enough to have Cordelia's eyes wonder to wear your afraid ones were. You dug your nails deep into her skin without even noticing. But she didn't notice either.

"Delia" you didn't even sound like yourself "Okay. It's okay. You have to relax." Cordelia said but didn't believe herself either. When she told you it's okay, she didn't actually mean it. Because it wasn't okay. You both knew that.

"No!" you said and had began to do the opposite of relaxing and calming down. Because after carrying this baby for eight months, you grew a connection with her. Both you and Cordelia had grown a connection with her. The both of you had been looking forward to having this little family.

"I'm sorry. Oh my god, i'm so sorry. She's not going to make it, Delia. I'm not either." You started to hyperventilate which wasn't the best option considering that your chest had already felt heavy. But at this point, did it really matter when you felt like you were already halfway to the other side.

"No, please, y/n. You need to hold on, honey. You're strong. You both are" This wasn't in Cordelia's hands anymore. Cordelia wasn't god, she couldn't play the life or death game.

She pulled out her phone and frantically dialed an ambulance. They had told her to stay on the line but she couldn't bring herself to. She didn't know what would happen in these next few minutes so she wanted to give you her full attention.

"Cordelia" you said but really, you didn't know if you were actually speaking or this had all been in your head. It felt too unreal. She nodded, her tears spilling all over you. "What did you do to them?" She knew what you meant by them.

Moments of silence filled the room before she grabbed your face. She gave you the softest smile. "They're gone, baby. They won't hurt you or anyone else again." You weren't very confident that you would make it -death was wrapping around you like ivy on a tree- but you wanted to make sure Cordelia would be safe.

"I want you to keep on going, okay? For the girls and for me and for our daughter. Even if her and I won't be with you, physically" your sudden calmness had sent a shiver through Cordelia. "No no no, stop it. You're not going anywhere."

"I love you." You whispered and your eyes started to flutter shut. But Cordelia kept tapping your face because she was not going to lose her wife and daughter.

But this fight was too hard.

The last thing you heard was sirens and Cordelia sobs and pleads for you to stay with her.

                                         ____

Cordelia had been in the waiting room of the hospital for the rest of the night and the entire day after. She hadn't left, hadn't eaten, hadn't slept.

Zoe had offered to come by for support but Cordelia didn't want her or any of the girls to see her in the state she was in.

To put it in a simple way, she was a mess. She was getting very irritated that she hadn't got any updates on you. When she would ask, they would tell her that there was no new news. But it's been over twenty four hours so she tried to tell herself that it was a good thing; if you were...dead then they probably would've figured that out and told her by now.

It was eight at night now. A male doctor walked into the room and called for Cordelia Goode. She had never stood up so quickly in her life.

He gave her a polite smile and said nothing other than "follow me." She did. And with each step she took to your room, the faster her pulse got. She didn't know what was going to be on the other side of the door.

"She's a little out of it. But she's okay. She's going to be okay." The doctor said before opening the doors. And there you were. Well, you had bruises and cuts everywhere. You looked quite sickly too. But it was still you, that much Cordelia knew.

She wasted no time to walk to your side. Your eyes were closed but what Cordelia had noticed was that your breathing was peaceful and not at a concerning rate.

She grabbed your hand and rubbed her thumb over the top. She bit her lip to try and suppressed her tears.

"As for the baby, we don't know. I've talked it over with some of our other doctors and the best bet would be that she has the baby now. She's ready so we're not just jumping into this." With that, Cordelia looked up at the man with anger. After everything you've been through, she didn't think you would have enough energy to have this baby at the moment.

"She barely has enough energy to open her eyes and you think she'll be able to give birth right now? Is this some kind of joke?" Cordelia's voice had gradually got louder. The doctor sighed but kept patient. He's dealt with many people, worse people before.

"I understand, Mrs. Goode, I do. And we would never have one of our patients do something that we know they're incapable of or would be in danger doing. We believe it would be perfectly safe for the baby and y/n."

The tension in the room had grew. And all the chatter had made you wake up. You knew what the conversation had been about, the doctors already told you about this. And you knew Cordelia wouldn't be completely on board with it.

"Delia, it's okay, sweet love. I promise" To hear your voice again had shocked Cordelia and brought tears to your eyes. She really thought that she would never hear it again.

"Y/n, baby!" she leaned down to placed a lingering kiss on your forehead. You giggled. She didn't want to overwhelm you with a kiss on your lips. But lucky for her, that was exactly what you wanted. You grabbed her head and pulled it back down before pressing your lips up against hers for a kiss that lasted just over a few seconds.

"I can do it. Remember, 'you're strong, you can do this" you said. Of course you hadn't forgotten what Cordelia told you, it's probably what got you to survive. She smiled down at you. "It's the safest option for her" your voice sounded sure as you motioned towards your stomach.

"Alright...if you feel ready, sweetheart"

                                          ____

Eighteen painful hours later and you finally had the most adorable baby in your arms. "Isn't she just beautiful? She has your eyes, Delia." You whispered the last part, not sure how the doctors in the room would react to finding out that this baby was made with magic.

"She's the most beautiful girl in the world and she’s a little fighter...other than you, of course" leaning down, Cordelia placed a kiss on your sweaty forehead. You finally removed your gaze from the baby in your arms for probably the first time since she's been born, to look up at Cordelia. "I love you so much, Cordelia Goode. And I couldn't ask for a better woman to have a perfect little family with."

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