#and i became friends with her less than four months ago.

[nordicbananas]

the thing about having a friend that's really hard to read is you don't know if they're joking or not

(tw in the tags for mentions of someone else 'joking' about killing themselves)

[everythingne]

wing damage - mv1

Eldest of the Halliwell-Horner pack, Y/n “Nadine” Horner gets her heart broken by the man she’s supposed to wed in six months. Four years of love slipping down the drain faster than she can try and grasp at the remaining water droplets. But... not all hope is lost as far as the f1 community is concerned and they might be right, since Max seems to be trying to get a little closer to his Team Principals daughter.

max verstappen x influencer!horner!reader

warnings & notes: cheating, mentions of alcohol, small age gap (24-27), strong language, probably inaccurate f1 information, using a name as a placeholder for y/n bc i’m not typing that every time, dates are off by two days in the beginning. deal, might have gotten christian's lore wrong but idk man he's just a white guy

fc: sophia la corte (and various ginger women on pinterest.)

04 MARCH 2024 — TWITTER. ↴

—

BAHRAIN, 04 MARCH 2024 — REDBULL GARAGE ↴

“Do you want me to confront him?” Max asks, sitting down next to me in the paddock. His hand comes to squeeze my knee, my father rubbing my back as he deletes every photo—every memory of Jacob Taylor from my phone. Four years down the drain. My friends back home at my apartment are currently bagging up his stuff. Both Mona and Ally will move in with me, just like college again, once his stuff is empty. My bare apartment will soon be filled with our old nick nacks but i can hardly be happy about it.

Cheated.

The man who spent 50k on an emerald cut four karat ring with a real gold band, cheated? The man who cried when his mom told him she loved me, cheated? The man who cancelled an entire film set because it conflicted with my schedule, cheated? The man who won over the hearts of not only Geri Horner, but Christian Horner? He was the one who cheated?

Jacob was (strong emphasis on the was) the highest standard I ever held. Now, I didn’t even know what standards to have anymore. Anyone could be a cheater. I never stood a chance.

“It’s fine, Max.” I say softly, wiping at my face again to try and make it look less like I’ve been sobbing since I found out as soon as the plane touched down two days ago. The paddock is buzzing, qualifiers getting ready to start for the first GP. The warm Bahraini sun beats down on the track and I can see the heat wiggling above it. Even in March it’s as hot as summer over here, and part of me misses the gloomy, smoggy streets of London right now.

“It’s not fine!” Max groans at me, throwing his head back in exclamation. I know he’s sick and tired of hearing me say it for the thousandth time, but if I say it’s not fine, I’ll break down. And we can’t have that.

“Max,” Pierre’s voice calls before Max can go on another tirade about killing Jacob. Max turns and I can see the hesitance in him to leave my side. He’s been like this since I met him the first day he raced with Red Bull years back—instantly the two of us clicked. When the days got hard, or his dad got on his back a bit too much, I would appear by his side and with a tiny smile somehow I'd fix everything. After I became his sort of 'chauffeur' when one of our drivers got sick in Abu Dhabi his first year, and we got stuck in an hour of traffic with nothing to do but talk, we became basically glued to each others sides.

I think having my unwavering support made a lot of the transition into Red Bull easier for him. And in moments like these, where he's watching me with a keen eye, I don’t know how I lived so long without his calm presence at my side. I was only a five years old when my dad joined Redbull, it’s been my entire life, and every racer who has passed through our team has never stuck to my side like Max Verstappen has.

“Go.” I nudge his knee when I see his hand twitch and hover by his helmet, eyes darting to me and then Pierre who waits in the doorway, so I supply, “I’ll be here when you get back.”

Max nods, giving me a departing hug before he gets up and starts tugging his racing suit on. Immediately my father replaces him, turning my head to card his hands through my hair.

“Oh, honey.” My father murmurs, squeezing my arms as he lets me lean into him, “I’m so sorry.”

“Don’t be sorry, you didn’t do anything wrong, Papa.” I sigh, leaning into him and letting his wrap his arms tight around me.

“No, I trusted that boy. That’s what I did wrong.” He says back, before handing me back my phone. We sit like that for a long time, people passing us without asking. Everyone knew. I had found out the same way they all did—on social media. Jacob didn’t even have the balls to tell me himself. Fucking coward.

Eventually someone calls my father away, the racing must now in full swing. So I force myself to sulk off to a hidden corner where I can munch on chocolates and watch Max from a little tv. Not as good as my usual perch next to my dad, but I don’t need the public seeing me the day I find out my fiancé of several years had been cheating almost the whole time. With his co-star. Fucking hell.

10 MARCH 2024 — INSTAGRAM ↴

THENADINEHORNER MADE A NEW POST!

liked by maxverstappen, danielricciardo, charlesleclerc, and 124k others...

thenadinehorner: the halliwell-horner household >>

tagged: christianhorner, gerihalliwell, blubelhals, theoliviahorner.

USER HAS COMMENTS LIMITED ON THIS POST

gerihalliwell: love u lots mini ginger spice!!!!

⤷ thenadinehorner: mama ill cry </3

charlesleclerc: maman says hello and that she will have wine for you when you come to monaco

⤷ arthurleclec: nadine you are very beautiful do not let a man win -- maman

⤷ thenadinehorner: OMGGGG <3<3<3 XOXO MAMAN JE VOUS AIME TELLEMENT

christianhorner: my beautiful daughter

theoliviahorner: best sister ever

allycameragirl: cutest family fr

blubelhals: I LOVE YOU NADI COME BACK SOON !!!

maxverstappen: you and your sisters together is recipe for disaster

⤷ danielricciardo: bet they're planning ur downfall.

⤷ thenadinehorner: beware both of u 🔪

10 MARCH 2023 — LONDON, ENGLAND.

I knew returning home to my apartment was going to be hard. I had spent a few days with my dad, Geri, Olivia, Bluebell, and Monty. My father's third marriage had brought me Bluebell and Monty, Olivia's mother my first step mother and my father's second wife.

My mother? I didn't speak to her for good reason.

But being in my father and Geri's home had been refreshing enough to start and heal my heart. I also learned that Geri was really fucking good at healing, it involved a lot of wine and a lot of cursing.

My apartment had been a home full of happy memories of moving in with Jacob, and our time living together everyday I wasn’t at GPs and he wasn’t on set. Memories of our families and friends together with us, and now it would be just me. So empty. Alone. White walls with no decorations anymore. Just staring at me, closing in slowly.

God, I’d rather kill myself than deal with the solid ache in my heart that hasn’t left in almost a week.

Opening the door I sucked in a breath of pure agony. My father’s warm hand around my shoulder a soft reminder that even if I felt abandoned, I wasn’t alone. Not by a long shot. And as the door clicks open, my hand finds the lights instinctually, and my eyes widen to dinner plates.

“Welcome home!” a chorus cheers and I laugh, all my of old friends circled around the end of the foyers hallway, wine glasses and soju bottles in hand. I can’t even speak as tears fill my eyes and the girls run to me, waving my father off. He kisses my hairline, tells me he'll text me when he gets home, and shuts the door as my friends cart me into the kitchen and wipe my tears and fix up my messy hair with giggles.

“Tonight!” One of my friends—eventually I source the drunken giggles to Ally, “we will make you so hot and sexy, he will regret it.”

“And if he comes crawling back!” It’s Mona now.

“We will rip his dick off!” Marija shouts and the girls raise shots to me.

“Guys—what is all of this?” I can’t help but laugh, and then the three look at each other and smile.

“So… you’ve heard of a revenge dress, right?” Ally says slowly, and it all clicks.

—

10 MARCH 2023 — INSTAGRAM

THENADINEHORNER MADE A NEW POST!

liked by maxverstappen, charlesleclerc, christianhorner and 976k others..

thenadinehorner: ‘little black dress, who you doin it for?’ 🖤

tagged: monanotlisa, allycameragirl, marijaswrld

USER HAS LIMITED COMMENTS ON THIS POST.

maxverstappen: Is this that ‘hot girl era’ thing?

⤷ charlesleclerc: i think so.

monanotlisa: absolutely sexy. as per usual.

allycameragirl: FUCKKK UR HOT 🖤🖤

landonorris: one direction???

⤷ thenadinehorner: ofc you know it’s one direction.

⤷ landonorris: cannot tell if this is a compliment or not but thanks ?

marijaswrld: 🧎‍♀️ < me

[elliesbelle]

nobody compares to you

chapter 5

pairing: ellie x reader

synopsis: you're in your junior year of college and at a party, you run into the girl who broke your heart: ellie williams. despite the time it took to reset your life, will you risk a broken heart again for her?

content warnings: modern college au, cursing, angst, slight slut-shaming, brief mention of death, minors do not interact

word count: 2.3k

chapters: one, two, three, four, five, six, seven, eight, nine, ten, eleven, twelve, thirteen, fourteen

series masterlist

my masterlist

i have a ko-fi if you like my work so much that you feel compelled to tip me ♡︎

the "nobody compares to you" spotify playlist

featuring the isa song “sometimes you lose your soulmates”

Present Day 

Though you didn’t exactly enjoy Mondays, it was at least the one day of the week when you got to wake up naturally instead of at the crack of dawn. Your first class isn't until noon, so when you wake up at 9:30 in the morning, you decide to get your day started early. 

You weren’t always the type of person to completely do themselves up just to go to class. Maybe in freshman year for the first few weeks, but you were a seasoned vet now. Most of the time, some leggings and a simple shirt or sweater sufficed. But after such a shitty weekend, you figure you could at least make yourself feel good by looking good. 

After half an hour of getting ready, you look yourself over in the bathroom mirror. You smile, fairly satisfied with your appearance. Despite the cold breezes of Saturday night, the forecast called for a rare warm day. As a result, you allowed yourself a floral sundress, decorated with a puffy knitted, button-up jacket on top of it in case the season’s true weather decided to show. A pair of simple white sneakers finished your outfit; not the most stylish, but practically, you still had to walk around campus. 

Your lips shine from the bit of lip gloss you’d applied. You’d only applied some light mascara on today (you figured that your Literature and Sexuality class did not warrant your bold, false eyelashes). You’d lightly painted your eyes with colours that complemented those of your sundress, blending them seamlessly onto your eyelids. As you did this, that one memory that was prodding you two days ago became clearer. 

“I have no idea how you do that so naturally, dude.” Ellie’d said, watching you in awe from the foot of your bed. 

Her ocean green eyes watched the meticulous strokes of your makeup brush applying eyeshadow to your lids. It was early on in your “friendship” and it was still a couple more weeks of her calling you “dude” before you became “babe” and “baby.” 

“It’s not that hard, honestly. Just takes some practice.” You’d said, trying to keep your hand steady as you grew nervous under Ellie’s watchful gaze. 

“Nah, it’s natural talent. You’re an artist.” She’d replied. 

You’d scoffed, saying, “Ellie, all I’m doing is my makeup. You’re the actual artist, remember?” 

“No,” She’d shaken her head. “I just draw. You’re the artist here.” She’d said decidedly, eyes full of admiration as she continued to stare. 

You’d blushed furiously then, and you would continuously do so when you’d replay that memory the months following after. 

But it was two years later and now, the memory instead has you staring at your reflection tight-lipped and frowning. 

Why is she still everywhere? 

It was roughly a fifteen to twenty-minute walk from your apartment to the university. You lived in an off-campus apartment complex that was in a decent location from both the school and a downtown area nearby. It was less convenient than living on campus like several of your friends still did, and this certainly wasn’t what you’d had in mind when you were planning out your social college experience. But after the freshman year events of Rafael’s death and Ellie’s abandonment, you were far more comfortable where you were. 

You liked walking anyway. You found solace in the strolls you took, accompanied only by your thoughts and headphones. 

About five minutes into your trek to campus, you pull out your phone to text your friend Tara. 

A couple of minutes later, you were just officially entering the campus when Tara texts you back. 

You continue walking as you frown down at your phone. Dina had spent most of the previous day at your place, cheering you up and taking your mind off Ellie. Your group chat with your other friends was blowing up and by the end of the night when Dina had left, you were overwhelmed by the amount of unread texts you had. The group chat remained unopened until right now. 

The chat consisted of your friends Tara, Sidney, Astrid, Rebecca, Kristen, and Mina. You’d met them all in freshman year. Tara was your assigned roommate and Astrid was Dina’s. They were all initially casual friends, ones that you saw on a usual basis and got along well with, but they weren’t necessarily very close. You were better friends with the gang from Jackson. But after you came back to campus for sophomore year, you detached yourself slightly from Dina and Jesse, knowing full well that Ellie had them first. They both tried to remain closer to you; but they remained inseparable from their childhood best friend, not fully knowing what events led to what “broke up” you two. It wasn’t the same and it was a much different dynamic with this other friend group, but the girls were there for you all the same. 

Reluctantly, you click on the group chat named “Wilson Crew ❤️‍🔥” (Wilson Valley had been the name of the freshman dorm building most of you had resided in the first year). Scrolling up to where you’d left off, you scan the messages your friends had left the previous day. Your eyes grow wider and wider the more you read. 

The previous day, Tara, who worked at a campus coffee shop called Ruston Coffee, was tasked to train a new girl. To her, your other friends’, and now your shock, the new girl Tara was training was Freshman Girl. The same Freshman Girl who stayed glued to Ellie’s side for most of Saturday night. The same Freshman Girl who drooled over Ellie’s every word and move. The same Freshman Girl that mistook your Ellie’s signature lavender-laced joints as lilac. The same Freshman Girl who wore Ellie’s old motorcycle jacket the entire night. 

It turned out Freshman Girl did have a name: Daniela. Your friends had sent messages with different levels of shock and horror. Kristen called her a whore, to which Sidney agreed, to which Astrid reprimanded and told them both to be nice. Mina sent memes as a response. Tara also texted that Daniela would be working with her again today. 

You look up. Ruston Coffee is just down the way. You don't have to go in. You can skip coffee for today and hide out in the library instead. 

“I’m not expecting you and Ellie to magically make up. I won’t try to get into the middle of it because I know that’s between you two. But you definitely need to figure out this out, babe. This doesn’t seem like something that should remain unresolved.” Dina’d said.

“But don’t also let it affect all the other parts of your life, okay?" She continued. "She shouldn’t be stopping you from hanging out with me and Jess more often or going out to parties we’re at or anything that involves Ellie in some way. Don’t let her stop you from enjoying your life.” 

And Ellie certainly shouldn’t stop you from getting coffee. If you want to get a coffee and relax before class, Ellie should not be getting in the way of that. 

You take a deep breath and march towards the coffee shop, fingers gripping tightly onto the straps of your backpack and feet stomping in rhythm to good 4 u by Olivia Rodrigo blasting loudly through your headphones. 

A bell above the door tinkles as you enter Ruston Coffee. The shop was a little busy, most seats taken up by other students sitting with their laptops or biding time before class. There's a line of people by the register and you begin approaching it until you hear your name being called. 

Your friend Tara waves you over by the counter where orders are usually dropped off. In one of her hands is a straw and your ready-made mocha frappe. 

“You’re the literal best, Tara.” You sigh, pulling your headphones off and walking up to her. 

She hands you your coffee order. 

“No problem.” She says, smiling. “You know that I don’t mind.”

“Thank you for indulging in my caffeine addiction,” You say, whipping out your phone and sending her $6. 

Tara frowns and says, “You better not have given me a $3 tip this time.” 

You sip from your straw. 

“Dude!” Tara reprimands, laughing. 

“$2 tip!” You say, defensively. 

“Just for a $4 coffee.” She chides, shaking her head. 

You shrug. 

“So uh,” Tara begins, her voice lowered slightly. “Did you see what I said in the group chat yesterday? Cause you weren’t responding.” 

You gulp. 

“Uhh. Yeah, I did, just now. Sorry, Dina was at my place yesterday, so I was busy—” 

“Nah nah, it’s cool, man. But like. You saw what I said about that girl, right?” 

“Is she here?” You ask, chewing the inside of your cheek. 

“Not yet. But—” Tara checks her watch. “—she’s supposed to be here in less than five minutes or so.” 

Fuck. 

“Oh, okay.” You gulp, your heart rate increasing. 

“Are you okay, dude?” Tara asks. 

“No, yeah, I’m fine.” You lie. “How did training her yesterday go?” 

Tara crosses her arms and rolls her eyes. 

“Literally the worst. She kept on looking at her phone instead of listening, she left one AirPod in her ear the whole time, she kept asking when we were gonna be done. And now I have to go through it all again once she gets here.” 

You give Tara a sympathetic look. 

“I hate that,” You say, sucking on your teeth. “Can’t you just, I don’t know, not hire her?” 

“We’re short-staffed as fuck, so we don’t have much of a choice.” Tara sigh. 

One of Tara’s co-workers comes up behind her and attempts to elbow her ribs which she dodges easily. 

“Get back to work, Maclay.” He says, putting down two cups of coffee next to her before heading back towards the register. 

“Fuck off, Khanh!” She replies, shooting a middle finger to his back. 

“Should I let you get back to work?” You ask. 

“Nah,” Tara reassures. “I wanna shit talk this Daniela girl first before I have to deal with her this morning.” 

“Do you know how often she’s gonna be working with you?” You inquire. 

“I’m not sure yet, but if Bonnie thinks she’s gonna stick me with a lazy new girl this early in the year—” 

You hear the bell above the door tinkle as someone enters the coffee shop. Both you and Tara look instinctively at the new arrival. Tara groans silently and your throat goes dry. 

Freshman Girl Daniela walks in. Wearing Ellie’s jacket once again. 

Fuck, fuck, fuck. 

“Crap, I gotta go now, I guess.” Tara whines begrudgingly. 

“Y-yeah…” You say, unable to take your eyes off of that same jacket that used to often adorn your shoulders back in your freshman year. You hate that it looked good on Daniela. 

“I’ll see you later, dude.” Tara says, wrenching her elbows off the counter and walking towards the register. 

“Good luck.” You reply. 

You aren't exactly subtle with your stare, but thankfully Daniela doesn't seem to notice. It's a little different seeing her now in the daytime. She was very pretty, you have to admit to yourself. She has a short, pixie cut that complements her sharp bone structure. She's wearing a bright yellow tank top below Ellie’s jacket that clings to her lean figure, making her stand out slightly. The light makeup she has on looks so simple and natural. 

Daniela wasn’t Ellie’s first conquest since you ended things with her. She didn’t waste much time dating around after you all came back for your sophomore year. You’d avoided her as much as possible so you wouldn't have to come face-to-face with the girls she’d get involved with. You still heard about them, of course, and you were sure there were even more than the ones you’d known about. 

But Daniela was the first you were forced to encounter. You weren’t prepared to be thrust right into Ellie’s love life once more. But here you are, staring at the most recent fling of the girl who you were once so desperately in love with. 

As Daniela lazily makes her way through the shop towards the back, you eventually tear your eyes off her and head straight for the exit. 

♫ Maybe she’ll come through / If he waits some more 

But she doesn’t / No, she doesn’t ♫ 

You're leaning against one of the trees in the quad, backpack laid next to you and headphones back on your ears. Your next class is in the building right behind you, but you still have a while until it started. 

♫ It’s not like the movies / Like you dream it’ll be 

Sometimes you lose your soulmates / And sometimes they leave ♫

Your journal and pen are laid out on your lap but abandoned as your fingers pick at the grass around you. Your mostly empty coffee cup sits next to you, condensation dripping into the soil. Your eyes are completely glazed over, watching the clouds in the sky. 

♫ She’s not a girl you forget / She’ll run through your head 

With all of the moments / You loved but now dread 

To remember / Burning like—♫ 

Your hands and voice react quicker than your mind does. Your sudden movements cause your headphones to fall onto your neck. After a second, you realize that you had shrieked and that your hands had flown up to your face to catch something. As you bring the object down to look at it, you realize it was a football. 

“Shit! I’m so sorry!” 

You look up to see a tall girl in a dark t-shirt and grey sweatpants jogging towards you, a dirty blonde braid bouncing behind her. 

“Abby?”

author's notes:

sorry for the delay in uploading this! i'm back from my brief vacation, and after i settled in after getting home, i almost immediately plopped down in front of my laptop to finalize this ldksfjsdlkds

not very chockful of ellie in this chapter, i know, i'm sorry! y'all got plenty last chapter! but don't worry, more will be coming up soon. i just enjoy keeping y'all in suspense.

i just wanna mention that most (if not all) of the names that i use in this fic are picked out people in the games themselves. also tara's last name is maclay as an homage to my lesbian queen tara maclay from buffy the vampire slayer. she's not the same character obvi, but i just enjoy putting in the reference :)

freshman girl aka daniela may have been named after and based on some whore girl that my ex left me for and that i'm still bitter about it oops

i hope y'all enjoyed the surprise guest appearance at the end of this chapter! she will be integrated further into the story from this point on, so stayed tuned :)

taglist: @lonelyfooryouonly, @elliesinterlude, @sawaagyapong, @peppesgirl, @iconsoft, @maybeidohaveadhd, @ellieswifee, @valiantllamapersonpony-blog, @nil-eena, @echostinn, @uraesthete, @softbunlvr, @cherriessxinthespring, @amitycat, @chrissyfishywissy, @yevheniiaaa, @machetegirl109, @bertandfearnie, @ximtiredx, @efam, @elliesnoviecita, @oatmilkchaii, @tayyyystan, @emothurman, @livvy-2000, @abigaillovestoread, @gold-dustwomxn, @liabadoobee, @yuckyfucky

please let me know if you'd like to be added to the taglist or if you'd asked previously and i missed you!

[crimsonwritings]

Flames in our hearts - Prologue

Pairing: Cassian x female reader

Summary: Cassian and Y/N both have to let their partners go.

Warnings: angst, some kind of panic attacks

Words: 2.4k

A/N: It’s finally here! The first part of my firefighter Cassian fic. I’m so sorry that I wasn’t able to post this earlier but I was overthinking which resulted in a writers block. I’ll try to post the next parts more regularly from now on. Hope you enjoy!

Masterlist | Moodboard

Y/N´s POV:

“So this is it then.”

Four years ago I would have never believed that him and I would ever be in this situation. Sitting in our small town café, nothing but an untouched glass of water in front of me, because I was physically incapable of consuming anything right now. Him being placed in the seat opposite of me, staring at the wall, the table and the wall again. Anywhere to avoid my gaze.

It probably looked like a break up scene straight out of a movie. Even the weather seemed to play along, as the sky was filled with dark grey clouds, rain pouring down to the earth. If angels existed I imagined those raindrops to be their tears as they mourned over the pieces of my shattered relationship. I wanted them to drown my emotions until I wouldn’t feel any of this pain right now. And if it meant that I wouldn’t be able to feel anything ever again so be it. I couldn’t care less.

“Yeah. This is it,” he answered. I knew that this decision wasn’t easy for him, could hear it in his silent, shaking voice. How much time had we actually spent together? One third of our lives? First as friends, before it had turned into something more, something intimate - something vulnerable.

He had been my first everything and oh, how I had wanted him to be my last. The one and only, like those fairytales always swoon about. Some part of me still wanted him to be just that. But fairytales aren’t real and my teenage dreams had to concede their space in my head to the cruel realities of this world.

“It used to be so easy with us but now…it just doesn’t feel like it did at the beginning. You became so distant and I know that to an extent it’s my fault but I don’t know what to do anymore. It’s frustrating me. I can’t live like this anymore. And it wouldn’t be fair to you either.”

How generous of him. Breaking up with me to spare my feelings. I didn’t know why it caused a rumble of anger to drive through my body. Didn’t I feel the exact same thing? Wasn’t it me who had questioned our relationship over the past months?

At least he was able to set me free. I on the other hand felt like a snake, meandering around his body and pushing my fangs in his skin, even though I knew I would poison him with my insecurities. I just couldn’t let go.

Because that was my greatest fear. Being left by someone I loved, someone who was supposed to love me back. It had made me doubt him at some point, when he had disappointed me one to many times with such little things. Suddenly I hadn’t been able to see the good things anymore, only the bad, which had resulted in me emotionally distancing myself, snapping at him when he told me I was a fool for doing so.

And now here we were, in the middle of that small town café, knowing that we weren’t able to make each other happy anymore. One side being controlled by her fears, the other driven by frustration, annoyance maybe. I couldn’t even blame him for feeling this way. For I couldn’t stand myself either. What used to be a loving relationship became a downward spiral pretty fast.

I knew that this was right. That I had to let him go to hopefully find his happiness, even if it meant that he would end up with someone else. If she could appreciate everything he had to offer then he was hers to claim, not mine. But why did it feel so damn wrong? Why was the thought of somebody else living my dreams with him worse than what we had now?

The merciless feeling of my panic rising up consumed me whole. I knew it all to well. It always started with that lump in my throat, swelling on and on until I feared I couldn’t breath anymore. It then resulted in a gag, as if my body tried to get rid of it by throwing up. Meanwhile I could feel the tears lining up, threatening to spill but never doing so, not granting me that sort of relief. I could feel the familiar cold running over my skin, causing me to shiver. My hands were already shaking so hard I had to grab the chair beneath me, so nobody would notice.

Calm down Y/N. Don’t you dare let them see your weakness. Nobody wants to see it.

But no matter how many deep breaths I inhaled to calm myself down, it didn’t work.

I wasn’t strong enough for this. I couldn’t let him go. Instead I needed him to take me in his arms, soothing me that everything would be all right, that he had overreacted and that we would work on it. Like we had promised each other so many times before.

My voice trembled as I begged him, “Please! I will become the girl you fell in love with again! All I need is time!”

Something deep down in me protested. Questioned why I had to beg him to love me. Why it was so important for me to be loved by him.

I didn’t listen. All I could hear were his final words.

“Stop making this any harder than it already is. You assured me of this so many times but I can’t believe you anymore. And it wouldn’t matter anyway. My love for you is gone Y/N. I feel nothing…I’m sorry.”

Something inside of me shattered at his words. Maybe it was the hope I still had left. To mend this. To get out of this nightmare. But now there was nothing left. He had made his choice and I could do absolutely nothing about it.

I couldn’t stand it anymore. Neither the beat of my heart getting painfully fast nor my breath being so flat that I feared I would faint. The tears started to run down my cheeks - finally - but it caused embarrassment to flow through me as I felt the stares of the strangers around me, starring and judging.

I almost jumped up from my seat and stormed out of the cafe, away from the pity and the pain.

He didn’t try to stop me.

~*~

Cassian’s POV:

“Say that again.” His words came out in a gasp.

He didn’t know how they had ended down here. Only a few minutes ago he had felt as if he could touch the sun! Finally, after so many years of pining after it, his life had become perfect, giving him wings of jauntiness! But it seemed like he had gotten to close to the radiant heat of the burning star, for now it felt like those exact wings had caught fire, causing him to race down towards the ground, to the predict of a devastating crash.

She alone could save him now.

But instead of throwing him something to grab onto in his fall she definitively shredded his wings to pieces, robbing him of any chance to survive.

“It’s over Cassian. I’m breaking up with you.”

There were no tears in her eyes as she said it. No signs of doubt on her face. She was sure in her decision and seemed utterly cold about it. Like an ice queen she stood in front of him, wearing the mask she had always worn to protect herself. Every time she couldn’t stand the overwhelming emotions around her. Cassian couldn’t help but find it majestic, how she stood her ground, watching him slowly crumble in himself.

The shock must have been evident on his face, he was sure about it. He felt like he couldn’t move. He wanted to tear his eyes from her icy stare but no matter how hard he tried, his body wouldn’t allow him to. All he was capable of doing was holding on to the balcony railing of his apartment.

In the corner of his eye he saw the lights of the city he called his home. There was a musician playing on the streets somewhere, he could hear the happy melody in the distance. Usually he would have loved it. It all seemed like a mockery to him now.

“But…I don’t understand! I thought we were happy!”

As the realisation started to settle in he could feel the panic rising up. The ringing in his ears became louder and louder and he had to resist the urge to shut them with his hands, even though he knew that it wouldn’t help one bit. Otherwise he would have missed her next words.

“Happy?! Do you really think I’m happy with everyone trying to change me the whole time?”

There was anger in her eyes now, a little spark that could turn into a wildfire if he didn’t take care. He had seen it a million times already. That fiery anger that threatened to eat her alive. It always resulted in her sending the flames towards her opponents, mixed with nothing but cold, brutal calculation.

“You know that it’s true Cassian. They all want me to be that cheerful little girl who loves to go on family adventures and gets along with everybody and keeps quiet about all the things that go wrong with you all. But I’m not. I hate pretending that I like them. And I most certainly hate that they only see Feyre’s sister or your girlfriend in me. Especially Rhysand!”

“He doesn’t do that and you know it! All he is trying to do is to integrate you. And if you wouldn’t be so god damn stubborn about it you would see it!”

Something had switched in Cassian, he didn’t even realise it. All of a sudden the shock had turned into anger. He stepped towards her, fists clenched and eyes squinted.

She didn’t back down. Instead she stabbed her finger in his chest and bared her teeth, ready to fight back. “You’re only proving my point! You’re doing it again! Defending him! It’s always like this, you’re always on his side!”

“Can you blame me? He is the only family I have left! I owe him so much, hell we wouldn’t even live in this apartment without him!”

“Should I be thankful for this now? It’s only a reminder that we are completely dependent on him. All I did over the past years was trying to match his expectations. I really tried, for you! But I can’t do this anymore! I don’t even know who I am anymore!”

“So the only solution for you is to break up with me? Throwing me away when I’m not of use for you any longer?”

“Don’t be ridiculous, Cassian.” She turned around and stormed into their shared bedroom, Cassian right on her heels. When he saw all of her stuff packed up in some suitcases the panic returned. He could feel his heart beating rapidly and he had to hold onto the door frame as he slightly stumbled at the sight.

“Where…where are you going?”

“Eris offered me to stay in his family’s summer house. He’ll pick me up in a thew minutes and you won’t follow me!”

She had planned this then. Had made her decision, when exactly? Days ago? Weeks ago? Leaving him, without even giving him the chance to explain himself or making things right with her. He would change if he needed to. All she had to do was talk to him, telling him what he could do better. Yet all of it wouldn’t lead to anything, because she had given up a long time ago.

What hurt the most though was the fact that she trusted another man more than she trusted him. Of course Eris would have offered to help her. That viper had tried to lure her in even before she had chosen Cassian. But why did she ran into his arms when Cassian was right here, willing to catch her like he had done so many times before?

When Nesta reached the door again, he stepped in front of her. He needed an answer. He needed to know if there was even the smallest chance of winning, should he fight for her.

„Tell me Nes, I won’t let you go otherwise. I want you to look me in the eyes and tell me that you don’t love me anymore.“

One last time she looked up to him with those beautiful steel blue eyes. He desperately searched for any sign of emotion in them. Hell, he would even take all of her anger again. At least this would mean that she still cared about him. But it seemed like she didn’t feel anything anymore as she made his nightmare come true.

„I don’t love you anymore. Goodbye Cassian.“

There it was, that final crash. He had hit the ground now, forced to watch her pass him and leave the apartment, not able to reach out for her, even though an inner voice screamed for him to hold her back.

It felt like an out of body experience. He could feel everything. The tears that ran down his cheeks. His knees giving in, causing him to sink to the ground against the wall. He could hear his sobs and pleas for her to come back. Yet everything was distant, covered under a blanket of devastating pain.

He didn’t know how much time had passed, when he finally came back to his senses. All he knew was that he had to stop her.

He got up on his wobbly legs and hustled out of the door on the floor of the apartment building screaming with everything his shaky voice could offer: „Nesta! NESTA!“.

But it was to late. She was gone. She had left him, like everyone else had done. He was all alone again.

When the old lady, who lived next door stepped out of her apartment at his screaming he gathered all his strength and made his way back into his own flat.

Entering the living room he saw a small black velvet box lying on the bookshelf. She hadn’t found it like he had planned. She hadn’t looked for it.

He could hear the box giggle at his misery, mocking him. He knew it was all in his head but he couldn’t stand it anyway. So, as the anger boiled up in him again, he grabbed the box, stepped out on the balcony - and with a yell he threw it into the river down below.

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[irulaan]

HOW FAR IT CAN BEND | REGULUS BLACK

— the way he loves was tainted since he was a child. it didn’t help that he always, subconsciously, desired everything his older brother could put a hand on.

nav | regulus’ mlist

✧ PAIRING. regulus black x fem!reader

✧ WORD COUNT. 1.8k

✧ WARNINGS. low self esteem. mm slightly sirius black x reader. english isn’t my first language

You have been around them for a while, you knew them but never had a word with any of  the four boys. Lily Evans, a fierce girl, whose personality and intelligence was paired with ginger hair and bright viridian eyes, had a few words with you, at a potion class. And her  good nature ignored the fact you were usually linked to a pure blood fanatic, Regulus Black. 

On said occasion, her words kept slipping through her mouth—she was surprised by your kindness and the way you’ve carried a light conversation about the day’s topic, since she expected you to be a complete asshole. She believed you could be a good friend, a good partner at class—as your intellect matched her own. Over the following weeks, she kept looking for you to start banal conversations, about classes, about anything. It was about time to meet her friends.

Three of them had a study meeting with Lily Evans, and they adored the girl, they won’t say no. “I think she’s Regulus' girlfriend?” James has said, when yours and Lily's blooming friendship became a topic. 

Sirius snorted, “Pff, that spineless idiot could never have a girlfriend. Haven’t I told you he's as cold as my progenitors? The only way he’s getting to that point is if they arrange something” He was unusually so bittersweet about his brother’s affairs. Since he stopped caring a long time ago. 

James smiled at his behavior, laid his books down on the table. And sat across Sirius and Remus. “We just saw them” 

“Maybe she pity him?” He earned a round of laughs. Remus had shocked his head, covering his eyes with a large hard at Sirius’ nonsense. 

“Yeah, most likely” James mocked him.

Remus eyes’ caught his ginger friend arm in arm with her new friend, you. “Speaking of the devil…” He said, warning his friends. 

They liked you in a beat. Sirius' first impression was that you were a complete opposite to his younger brother. You laughed at their lighthearted jokes and had a focused expression while they explained some of their pranks. It was nice and refreshing to have you around, it wasn’t always, but it was often enough to have a sense of proximity. A belief and a feeling you were a friend to all of them. Your first impression of Sirius was meh—nothing less, nothing more than you expected. He had the most charming personality, an ounce of his attention was enough to make you feel like a radiant sun—a fake one tho. You knew his ways with girls, how they would fall to his feet with a smirk and a mischievous grin. Your confused feelings constantly met a wall when you saw his interactions with a potential love interest, even if it’d last a few weeks—days even. 

Regulus Black had collected the courage to ask you to be his girlfriend on a sunny, fresh spring morning — just a month before summer holidays. It was a question you have been expecting since you realized your romantic feelings for him, months ago. It was easy since he let you into his softe, most vulnerable side. Where you learned about his terrors and insecurities. Where you learned his need for reassurance —that you like him, that you love him— has its roots in his abused childhood, where his parents deprived him of pure and sincere affection, only praising him when he did things Walburga and Orion thought were correct. His way of understanding of love was tainted by his emotional baggage—it was something you thought you could work on together.

Four Gryffindor boys saw you both hand in hand, kissing in public. You didn’t see them, as your eyes could only lay on the boy staring lovingly at you. You were both in love. That love you crave and envy when you’re young and wild, a love seemingly pure and sincere at the surface, one that couldn’t be marred by anything or anyone, but one that was cursed by the first shared glance. You'd have to scavenge a bit to find its rotting foundations. That day Lily Evans and her kind self gave you a cold shoulder unmatched by the concern and guilt in her eyes. They boys didn’t acknowledge your presence. It lasted—and continued for a week, until you couldn’t bear with it.

You were glad you found the group hanging in the common room. Your presence was noticed at first by James, who tried to escape when his eyes met yours, Lily held his hand, keeping  him in his place.

“Can someone tell me what’s going on?” Sirius received a whiplash when he turned when he heard your voice. Now, all of them stared at you. “Like if i made a mistake i would want to apologize, but i don’t know what i did” Your distressed tone and how your voice broke were enough to make the older Black brother feel a pang of guilt. Like a stab at his heart by his own hand. Because it doesn’t matter how hurt he was when he saw you and Regulus’ holding hands—it didn’t matter because now he had hurt you, by isolating you from them, your friends. Thinking you did something wrong. 

The sand-like haired boy shared a quick look with Sirius, as saying you, and only you can fix this. It was his responsibility. “It’s okay, i’ll explain to her” He had said and the rest of them flew out of the room in a blink. 

Now alone, he had focused on your red rimmed eyes, on how you bite the insides of your mouth. “I’m sorry”

You let out a humorless laugh, “What does that mean?”

His breath faltered, “I shouldn’t have done this—I was angry I guess” You nodded, confused. “I don’t know how to say this, huh” 

To catch Sirius Black struggling to find some words was a spectacle—nor of you enjoying it. It fueled your anxiety and desires to run back to Regulus’ soft gaze, the one he gave you when you told him you were going to fix whatever you’ve done. Maybe it was a mistake, maybe you should have let the time work it out for you. 

“Sirius, you’re scaring me, please,” You tilted your head, getting close to him. It destroyed him—your fucking worried eyes. 

“I liked you, and you ran to my brother’s arms!” His tone was harsh, and he crossed his arms in his chest when you shot him a confused look. Like a spoiled child, who wants something he can’t have.

“So you decided to not talk to me again, without saying anything?” He couldn’t utter a word, he felt dizzy, even. He couldn’t understand how he was in that situation. “You know, I liked you too, for a while, but I knew if I told you, you’d have broken my heart. That’s who you are” 

He breathed in, appearing trapped. “It was different with you!”

“How—how was it different? —No, you know what, save it. I didn’t deserve any  this” You pointed furiously your index finger in his direction. 

He bit his lip. He would rather see you angry than put up with your understanding side. He hurted you, and maybe he didn’t deserve to be forgiven, for now. “Sorry, it's not gonna happen again. Don’t know what else I can do” 

So he didn’t do anything.

Summer came over, distancing you from them. You tried to close the wound, because they never apologized, and Sirius did a terrible job at it. But it didn’t matter anymore, because  you probably won’t see them again. They graduated and you’ve heard James and Lily were trying to have a baby—feeling the need to leave something behind. You were afraid to reach for them, to send a letter congratulating them, to know what they’d do now. You missed Lily and developed a hate for Regulus’ older brother and his poor emotion management. A feel that grew everyday like an undergrowth, one you watered with self doubt.

“I knew he liked you,” Regulus’ had confessed some time after. “He stared at you as if you were a piece of meat. Another girl he can ruin and then left” 

You wouldn’t have suspected anything if his eyes wouldn’t give him away  — he felt guilty.

Your breath wavered at the realization, and Regulus knew. “You’re cruel, I’ve been in love with you for months and you only asked me to be your girlfriend because you saw Sirius as a threat?” Your voice was delicate, slow but unsteady, as your own insecurities jeopardize your calm.

Regulus had shook his head rapidly, with a mind ridden by guilt. “I felt the same, I was just scare you didn’t want me that way—He just made me realize I had so save you” 

You snorted. “Pff, Save me?” 

His head gave up, hanging low, avoiding your eyes. “I’m sorry I was wrong, please don’t be angry at me” He begged in a low tone, barely audible. But it was sincere and ras.

“I’m not—“

“—Nor disappointed” You smiled. It was real Regulus. It was Regulus’ realizing his decayed stability. And you had promised you'd go through this. 

Warm hands greeted his cold, sharp cheeks. Held his head and mind—quite literally. “I’m not, Reggie,” It was heaven, as your thumbs traced his cheekbones. “I’m just sad, you needed — you waited until someone gave me attention to act. You wouldn’t have said anything…” In such a short time your self deprecating ruminations had leaked through your conscious mind. But you won’t unfold your heart in this situation. 

His head lingered near your shoulder, craving more of your touch, but so afraid to ask for more than he thought he deserved. “I’m so sorry, I didn’t mean to hurt you. I’m sorry, can you forgive me?” He kept apologizing, not raising his voice. 

You push his head up. You hadn’t expected to find tears at the edge of his silver eyes. “You’re forgiven, just don’t do that again, please” Like a caged animal set free, his arms snaked around your torso, flushing you against him. But it wasn’t enough—he craved more. 

Shoving his nose into your shoulder, Regulus had tried to remember your scent. To have it forever stuck in his mind. “I’ll try. I’ll do anything” A short silence filled your ears. “Do—do you still love me?” He muffled against the upper side of your left collarbone. 

You placed a short, tender kiss on his cheek. “I love you, Reggie” A promise, it was a promise. All you could do was give, give everything to him.

Foundations putrid and all, when pieces fell, they’d remain together glued by the sweet but dangerous desire of being needed and to need each other. Glued by three-word promises. 

COMMENTS, LIKES AND REBLOGS ARE HIGHLY APPRECIATED i will literally give you forehead kisses if you support me <3

[idolatrybarbie]

pairing: marcus pike x fem!reader

word count & rating: 5.4k | explicit - 18+ minor free zone!

summary: it's not stalking if it's a casual curiosity. you would never do anything...you're just nosey. lonely, too, maybe. but that isn't your fault. yes—this is fine. only stalking if he notices. so what exactly happens when he does?

warnings: social isolation, touch starvation, marcus pike is a virgin (there is no virgin-shaming here - do not fear), alcohol, themes of alienation, allusions to failed relationships, everyone in this story is very normal, smut - kissing, loss of virginity, vaginal fingering, handjob, protected penetrative vaginal sex(!!!), premature ejaculation, body worship (with mouth), exhibitionism, implied male masturbation, vaginal fingering, very enthusiastic oral sex (f receiving), cum eating, cuddling.

notes: i was depressed and am sick (again) but yesterday was a really good day, so you get a fic. @wannab-urs wanted to see virgin marcus - here he is. this slowly and subtly became a little more kinky than i intended it to lol? my own cat makes an appearance and yes he is really that old. this is also my 400th post to this blog. woohoo, enjoy! :)

He’s your neighbour. Kind of cute. Okay, lie—very cute. You don’t have much on him otherwise. He moved in about three months ago, right at summer’s end. At first, you thought he was a student. You see him around the house and the neighbourhood during weekdays, so that rules out a college schedule.

He likes to read books in the park. Thick novels with colourful covers and lengthy titles. You would think that he’s showing off, peacocking with the way that he’s got a new book in his hands every week. But no, the reading isn’t for show. He moulds them to his liking, dogears the pages and folds over paperbacks; things someone doesn’t do when they’ve got a book in their hands as a lure, a line.

Surprisingly, he seems to be single. You aren’t exactly sure why. There’s no short supply of wealthy single moms in the area, and the man himself is truly gorgeous. Maybe he’s recently divorced, or gay. Maybe it’s his mom’s old house and she’s passed, and he’s only here to settle things up before skipping town again.

You find yourself watching his windows at night, never able to catch a glimpse of him. The house glows orange with the lights still on inside—a welcoming lighthouse in the cold and murky sea of suburbia. When you start thinking like that, watching his house for more than too long, you send yourself to bed. The very last thing you want to be is the obsessed stalker across the street.

A part of you can’t help it. Your other neighbours, despite barely knowing them, don’t seem to like you very much. You have a feeling a certain washing-your-car-in-a-bikini-top incident at the end of this year’s boiling hot August might have something to do with it. With no friends to speak of in this cookie cutter county, you find yourself lonely. When you don’t think about it too hard, that’s justification enough.

This morning, you wake up before the sun. Sparing your eyes the bright glare of house lights, you use a near-dead flashlight to see down the hall. The cat in your care this week lives on a strict schedule. At fourteen human years—eighty in feline—Bender has grown accustomed to routine: breakfast at six-thirty, talk television at eight. Later mornings to early afternoons are a little less structured, leaving him to wander the house or settle in for a nap. Then he eats again at four, followed up by water and a monitored trip to the litter box. After that, he usually sits on the cushioned back of your couch to watch movies with you.

His owner is away in Florida with her grand kids. She’s been leaving him with you for the past six months whenever she needs time away from Virginia to let loose and explore. Bender isn’t really my cat, she’d told you the first time, but her daughter is in New York for school and couldn’t take him this year. You secretly hope that she never does. He’s excellent company.

Professional pet-sitting hadn’t ever been a career that you’d really considered. You’re still not sure if this is a forever thing or a temporary gig to pay the bills. Really, you’d like to put your degree to use in some capacity. But after being laid off so abruptly…well, you aren’t itching to get back out into the workforce quite yet. Especially not when sweet older women pay you a hundred dollars a day to revel in the company of cuddly creatures.

They aren’t all easy like the old man. Charlie, the St. Bernard you sat last month, is clingier than any ex you’ve ever had. The Fogelmans’ Dalmatian is nice to have for a day or two, but thirty minute runs twice each morning go from exhausting to borderline impossible by day three. Animals are exhausting. When you aren’t sitting, you’re sleeping.

Peeling back the tin lid on a can of wet food, you can already hear the light tap of Bender’s small paws on the floor. He joins you in the kitchen, waiting as he watches you spoon half of the can’s contents onto a dessert plate. You soften it, making it easier to chew before you slide the food over to him. He always takes a comically big first bite.

“If only they could all be like you, huh?”

Bender doesn’t answer, of course. He’s a cat.

Good Morning America rambles away on your flat-screen. You’re waiting for Bender’s owner, his travel carrier already baited with treats. The unopened food cans and his toys are packed away in a grocery bag by the door. When Anne-Marie sends you a text that she’s in the neighbourhood, you gently lead the cat into the carrier. The grated door clinks shut behind him.

Poking a finger through the slats, Bender meets you with his paw.

“Come visit me soon, alright?” you ask. “Maybe your mom can take a long trip to Canada or something.”

Anne-Marie doesn’t have to knock for you to know she’s there, her short shadow visible through the frosted glass beside the door. You stand and turn to open it, greeting her with a smile. She asks after you and tells you about her flight in.

“I hope he’s been a good boy,” she says.

“An angel, as usual,” you reply.

“He’s a little bit of a grump sometimes.”

“Perfectly fine with me. Bender’s always welcome back here.”

Anne-Marie takes the bag of food and toys first, tossing it into the front passenger seat before returning for the carrier. Handing it over, you watch as she walks down the steps and  loads him into the backseat of her SUV. She buckles Bender’s glorified plastic box securely in the back, getting in herself. Anne-Marie waves at you from behind the wheel. You wave back.

Watching the vehicle pull away with your furry friend in tow, you see your neighbour’s house for the first time today. The weather is cooling off as winter grows closer. You don’t see him out much anymore, except when he gets home from who-knows-where. Even then, it’s only a glimpse of his short walk to the front door. Today, he’s sitting on his porch. With a fleece sweater zipped to his chin and a vest hugging his torso, you watch as pulls on a pair of muddy boots.

Cold air breezes past you, the draft pulling you back to reality. Just as you’re about to close the door, he peers up. And looks…directly at you. Then your neighbour smiles in acknowledgment.

Making eye contact for a second too long, you shut the door quickly. Leaning against the surface, you replay the last thirty seconds in your head. The car pulled away, he was sat there…he pulled on his boots and saw—

Three sharp knocks land on the other side of your door. You’re too much of an optimist, hoping it’s Anne-Marie again. Glancing at the glass from here, you find the realistic answer. It’s him, up close and personal this time—for the first time. Suddenly, you’ve forgotten how to breathe.

He knocks once again, clearly waiting. There’s nowhere else for you to go. The man is standing at the only reasonable exit point. Caving, you take a breath and open the door. 

The first thing you notice is his smell. Earthy-sweetness lingers with him as the familiar stranger smiles at you. Again.

“Hi,” he says.

“Hello,” you return. “…Can I help you?”

“I figured that I’ve lived across the street for a while but never introduced myself,” the man says. He holds out a hand and you take it, his broad palm warming yours. “I’m Marcus.”

You tell him your name, still shaking his hand. When you let go, the smile falters.

“So Marcus, what can I do for you?”

“Well, I was wondering if I could borrow a cup of sugar,” he says.

You glance around the doorway, unsure how to respond. “Um—” 

“I’m joking.”

“Oh,” you nod. Shifting your weight from right to left, the tiniest of squeaker toys lands under your foot.

“You've got a dog, right?”

“Sort of,” you say. “I pet-sit sometimes. They aren’t really mine.”

“I was going to ask if you wanted to bring ‘em out for a walk, but I guess—”

“I could still go for a walk,” you say, the words rushing out.

The smile returns to Marcus’ face, strong as ever as he nods. “Sure. Great.”

“Just give me one second.”

You backtrack into the front hall, pulling open your coat closet for a jacket and your shoes. It only takes a minute before you’re joining Marcus on your porch. He leads you down the steps, taking a right onto the sidewalk. This is the direction he drives in from.

“So, pet-sitting,” he says. “Passion or hobby?”

“Well, I get paid for it. Not really a hobby.”

“Monetized hobby,” Marcus corrects himself. “Or is this what you do professionally?”

“In that case, hobby. I lost my job a couple of months ago. Still sort of figuring it out,” you say. Marcus nods. Then you ask, “What about you?”

“Why don’t you guess?”

You hum, thinking back on what you know about him. The car he drives is new, a dark SUV with tinted windows. Whatever he does must pay pretty well. He lives alone, fairly solitary; no kids, no spouse. You’ve seen him bring in a maximum of three grocery bags at once, and yet he hasn’t starved, so he probably doesn’t cook a lot. Sometimes it’s like he’s never home, and others he’s ever-present. That’s a pretty erratic schedule for a business professional.

Giving up on a real answer, you say, “Male stripper.”

He laughs and rolls his eyes. “I wish.” You and him both.

“A cop?” you ask.

“Warmer,” Marcus says. “FBI agent.”

“You’re joking, right? Are you even allowed to tell normal people those things?”

“I mean, sure. You’re not a terrorist, are you?” he asks.

“No,” you say.

“Then we’re fine,” Marcus says. He formally introduces himself. SSA Marcus Pike.

“So, Marcus the FBI agent. What draws you to Fairfax County?”

“The commute. And the house is nice, too.”

“You don’t strike me as a white picket fence kind of guy.” Looking out at the neighbourhood, that’s all there is.

“You don’t seem the type either,” he says. Touché. “When I first started planning the move, it wasn’t supposed to be just me. But uh…some things changed, and I’d already bought the house. Can’t let it go to waste.”

There’s something raw there. It softens his voice a little, taking away that clutch of confidence that seemingly brought him to your door.

You say, “I guess it’s better here than another shit-box apartment.”

“Right? That was my whole life back in Texas,” Marcus says.

“Texas?”

“Not born nor bred,” he says. “I worked in the Art Theft department at the bureau there.”

“Working on crafts for the kiddos?” you ask.

“More like nabbing art thieves, stopping criminal smugglers. Stuff like that.”

You hate to admit that this man probably has more courage in his pinky finger than you possess in your entire being, but at least now you can justify the curiosity.

“So you’re good at catching the bad guys, then,” you say.

“More so good at noticing things,” Marcus explains.

The air changes slightly, goosebumps rising along your skin. You ignore any potential implication. “Like what? Human behaviour?”

“Sure,” Marcus says. “Small stuff. Like if someone’s lying…or if I’m being watched.”

When Marcus doesn’t say anything else, you pause. A finely manicured lawn as your backdrop, you stare at him, disbelieving. You can’t imagine what you look like—the pictured definition of mortification.

“Look, I’m really sorry if I creeped you out. I just—I don’t get out a lot without a job and all, and I don’t really have any friends here. You seemed interesting, but none of that’s an excuse and I should’ve come over and said h—”

He says your name, stopping your rambling. “It’s fine,” Marcus says. “A little odd but…flattering?”

With your heart racing in your chest, you scrub a hand over your face. “Oh my god,” you sigh. “I really am sorry, Marcus. My life isn’t very…normal anymore. It makes you do some weird things.” 

You can’t remember the last time you were outside before today. Direct grocery delivery took away any need to get out to the store, and with it your last real connection to the outside world. Except the pets. They keep you from losing it entirely.

“We’ve all got our fair share,” Marcus says. Why is he being so cool about this? He should be calling the police, or in this case, himself.

So you ask, “Why are you trying to make me feel better?”

“Well, if I don’t then you might not want to come over for dinner later."

At seven o’clock, you make your way across the street to Marcus’ front door. You hesitate in knocking, checking the time on your phone again. He says it’s fine, but maybe this is a mistake. You’re not over the embarrassment from earlier. You really don’t know how to carry out social interactions anymore. Maybe it’s for the best if you turn around and quietly slip back into your house…

Before you get the chance, the door before you opens up. Marcus has changed. He’s wearing less layers this time, only a simple white Henley shirt and a dark pair of jeans. Cartoon sharks bite the ankles of his socked feet, and you find yourself smiling when you finally look at his face. God, this man is fucking gorgeous. It almost makes you mad.

“Hi,” you say.

“Hey, come on in.”

He stretches his arm to open the door wider, stepping aside to make room. You take your boots off at the door and note the details of his home. The walls are cherry red, different to the sage green of your place across the street. The wall space in the kitchen is filled with paintings where yours stay bare, all of them neatly hung—Frida Kahlo and Elmina Moisan are the artists you recognize. 

Marcus tells you that his mother is Chilean, that he was born over here once his American father could get her stateside. They moved down to Mexico when he finished high school. He’s visited every summer since, and each time he brings back a painting. There are only four here.

"You're missing a few," you say.

"The rest are upstairs," Marcus says.

Maybe you'll see them later.

Tonight, he's making fried rice and soy sauce chicken.

"Or See Yao Gai, if you want to get fancy with it," he says, concentrating on the pan.

Watching Marcus work over the stove is mesmerizing. He knows what to do and exactly when to do it, never letting anything burn or sit too long. You feel more like you're watching a professional chef than a guy that cooks "on occasion.” Even the way he washes rice has technique.

Jesus Christ, get it together.

Before plating the food, Marcus offers you a drink. He pours himself a small glass of something red.

"I'll have what you're having," you nod.

He sits across from you at the table. You imagine yourselves as your respective houses, the cloth runner that sits in the middle of the table acting as the paved street. They say people look like their pets, but homes take on characteristics of the people who live in them. Everything here is warm, like his hand. Vibrant and pleasant. The place smells like him too, all sweet and saffron.

The first bite of dinner explodes with flavour in your mouth.

"This is fucking delicious," you mumble, still chewing.

"Thank you."

"Of course." After a sip of wine, you say, "I mostly sustain myself off of hot pockets and spinach wraps. This is like, gourmet."

"You don't cook at all?" Marcus asks.

"Eh," you shrug. "I used to. A lot, actually. But it's not the same when—"

When what? When there's no love in it? Something like that. There's no one to feed, no one to come home to. So who fucking cares?

"When you're only cooking for yourself."

"I understand." They should sound like empty words, but something in Marcus' eyes tells you he really does.

"It's just…hard, I guess." Oh no, where are you taking this? "To keep caring? I’m sort of—"

"Going through the motions?" he asks.

"Yeah. Exactly," you say.

Marcus scoops another forkful of rice off his plate, chewing before he swallows. He says, "Well you know, I'm right across the street. Maybe twenty feet away? So if you need to, you can always go through the motions over here."

You don’t know exactly what he means, but it sounds nice. Someone to talk to. "One day I might just take you up on that."

When you're both finished, you help Marcus with the dishes and re-organising the table. You're showing yourself to the door with him in tow. You open it and cross over the threshold, the cold hitting you all at once. The sky is much darker than it was only an hour ago. A streetlamp behind you highlights Marcus’ face just so.

"Thanks for dinner. For all of it," you say. "It's been a long time."

"You're always welcome," Marcus says. And then he kisses you. Your hand moves over his shoulders, wrenching him forward to pull his body closer. You both stumble back into his house, the door closing behind you.

His hands remain respectfully north of the equator until you grab them, pulling them down to your hips. You break away from the kiss to say, "I don't usually…um. But do you want to—"

"Yes," he whispers. That's all the confirmation you need.

The combined stumble up to his bedroom has you bumping into walls, almost tripping on the landing. Marcus’ hands are hurried across your body. He can’t seem to make up his mind, palming your ass before he slides his hands over your ribs, squeezing your breast. Right outside his bedroom, he stops you.

“I’ve never done this before,” he says.

“Sex on the first date?”

“Sex…period.” You watch the way he cringes at himself, instinctively holding him closer.

Carefully, you say, “We don’t have to.”

“I want to. I just—it’s good to know what you’re getting yourself into.”

“It’s fine,” you say, giving him a kiss. “And we can take it slow.”

Marcus nods.

Inside the room, he lets you take the lead. You begin with your clothes, shedding your top, socks, and pants. Marcus mirrors you, leaving him shirtless in blue underwear. He’s already on his way to being fully hard, a bulge visible beneath the fabric.

Standing in front of his bed, you wave him over with a light come here. He’s drawn to you, a snake to its charmer, strong arms encircling you in his hold. You revel in the warmth of him. Marcus’ closeness has you leaning into his body, skin-to-skin. It has been so long since you’ve had this. You can’t remember the last time you’ve even had a hand to hold, an arm to brush by accident—so you take it. You revel in it, only god knowing the next time the opportunity will present itself.

“Are you okay?” Marcus asks, breath warm against your ear.

“Yeah, uh… I’m sorry,” you say. “It’s been a long time since I’ve touched somebody.”

The admission makes your stomach twist, Marcus’ face relaxing into a softer shape. Instead of the usual look of pity, he keeps his expression open. When he kisses you again, it’s long and slow; languid passes of his tongue against yours as the pair of you fall to the middle of the duvet. Marcus settles against you, assuring that his weight doesn’t crush yours before he peppers pecks across your mouth and forehead.

You can feel him hard against your thigh, steadily rocking himself into your skin with every smooch. He asks, “Can I touch you?” and you breathe a yes.

His right hand moves from its place on your torso to glide down the side of your body, cupping your ass before Marcus slides two fingers into the band of your panties. He smooths the pads of his fingers over the skin below your stomach, dipping below your pelvis to feel you.

Marcus brushes against your clit. You tilt your hips higher, chasing after the sensation.

“Here?” he asks.

“Little to the left?” you whisper. Adjusting accordingly, your breath catches when he finds it. “Yeah, there.”

Marcus rubs at it with his fingers, drawing tight circles around your clit as you wedge your face in between his shoulder and jaw.

“Can I kiss your neck?”

“Sure.”

Slowly, mindlessly, you peck at Marcus’ skin to ground yourself. Closer to his ear, he smells powdery, like vanilla. You’d like to know if it’s cologne or all him. You gasp when his fingers move to collect some of your wetness, returning to your clit and doubling down on the light pressure. Tongue darting past your lips, you lick him. He groans.

“Does that feel good?”

Gathering your thoughts takes a moment. “Yes, Marcus—don’t stop. Please don’t stop.”

He watches you now, eyes closed as you’re worked closer to the edge. With Marcus’ free hand, he slides the strap of your bra off your shoulder, pulling the fabric away from your breast.

“Use your mouth,” you instruct him.

Marcus doesn’t need to be told twice, ducking low to take your nipple into his mouth. His lips and fingers working in tandem as your body narrows in on the edge of pleasure. You keep a hand at the back of his head as he licks and sucks your nipple. When he takes the sensitive bud between his teeth, you cry out and tug at Marcus’ hair. You push his mouth closer, closer—you wish he would eat you.

It doesn’t take very long for you to cum. A few more tugs of his teeth at your nipple and a harsher pass over your clit has you seizing against him, lips parted as a harsh noise leaves your mouth. Marcus slows his fingers to an eventual stop. When you look at him again, he’s eyeing the stickiness left between them.

You hold his wrist, pulling it to your mouth and slipping his fingers onto your tongue. Marcus watches you clean them intently, like he’s committing the sight to memory. When your done, he holds your face and kisses your nose. You laugh.

“What else do you want to do?” he asks.

You slide a hand down his stomach, lightly prodding his belly button just to see him flinch. The smile he gives you makes you ache.

Hand hovering close to his clothed cock, you say, “I wanna touch you.”

He nods. “Please.” The single word comes out high and whiny, stoking that fire in your belly once again.

Slipping a hand into his briefs, you feel the wetness at the head of his cock as it smears against the elastic. You start there, taking the sticky tip into your palm to gather some of Marcus’ precum. When you work your hand over the rest of him, the glide is easier, his skin like slick velvet underneath you. It’s your turn to watch as his eyes flutter closed, mouth twisted into a pout as Marcus breathes hard through his nose.

“You can make noise, baby. Let me hear you,” you say.

Marcus gives you a quick nod, eyes opening again when you squeeze him at the base of his shaft. He moans, long and low, lips parted beautifully. You speed up, watching the effects of the faster pace as he curls further into your body. The slope of his nose drags against the skin of your shoulder as he breathes you in.

“Fuck,” Marcus whispers. His curses are said softly into your skin. Suddenly, his upper half draws away from you. “Fuck, wait, wait—”

You don’t realize he’s cumming until the first stripe of spend lands across your hip. Marcus groans, a reluctant purr from the back of his throat that mixes in with another low, “Fuuuuck.” Your hand frozen around him, you wait until he’s done to move.

Immediately, Marcus withdraws from you entirely. His eyes are glued to the cum on your skin, face twisted with something unreadable.

“Hey,” you say, touching your clean hand to his. He looks up at you. “It’s fine. You’re fine.”

“I’m really sorry,” Marcus mutters.

“Why?” you ask. With the shake of your head, you join him closer to the end of the bed. You slide your fingers through the mess of his spend, bringing them to your lips. Again, he watches as you clean it up. “Totally natural. Normal. You felt good, right?”

“Yeah, but—”

“That’s all that matters. I felt good too.”

“Do you still want to…” he trails off.

“If you want to do more, I have no objections,” you say. “And if not.” With a shrug, you quirk your lips up. There’s no pressure here. You’re grateful to have him at all tonight.

“I have an idea,” Marcus says. He shakes off the funk, shoulders rolling back again easily.

“I’d love to hear it.”

Noses close enough to touch, your hands never leave his skin as Marcus confides in you his thoughts. When you say yes, he positions himself below you. Starting at your ankles, he nuzzles his face against your skin, slowly moving upwards as he presses kisses to your calves. Eye-level with your left knee, he readjusts your leg. He lightly slides his tongue over the slot of skin behind the joint, pulling giggles from you as you squirm at the feeling.

From here, Marcus makes sure to take his time. He alternates between soft, wet kisses and flat licks up your thighs. He noses along the sensitive skin, rocking into the mattress every once in a while.

“This is probably bad timing…” he trails off. You wait for Marcus to continue, but he’s too preoccupied licking at the skin of your mid-thigh. Running your hand through his hair, you try to capture his focus again.

“Marcus?”

He looks up at you, those beautiful brown eyes melting your heart and sending it dripping down to your cunt. “I’ve known the whole time. That you were watching me.” Then Marcus returns between your legs, nose at the crux of skin between your thigh and where you need him most.

You can barely map out your words. The anticipation is killing you. “You—you did?”

“Mhm,” he hums. He’s so close now.

“You never said anything.” The bridge of his nose presses directly against you, your hips stuttering against his face. “I would’ve…god, I couldn’t stop,” you confess.

“I kind of liked it,” he whispers to your pussy—a secret between them.

You groan when his nose brushes your clit again, breaking into a light pant when Marcus licks a fat stripe across the lips of your cunt. His words short-circuit your brain. You squeeze your eyes shut, imagining Marcus in this very room, touching himself as you unknowingly watch him in the dark. All those nights with the lights left on. Is that what he was doing?

Marcus slides his tongue directly over your pussy, prodding with care. Forcing yourself to look, your gaze falls from the ceiling to his lowered form. He’s already watching you, drinking in every bite of your lip and crease in your forehead. With your attention on him again, Marcus doubles down on his efforts, making out with your cunt as you whine.

“Please, please, please. Marcus—inside, can you use your fingers?”

“Anything,” he says, slipping two inside of you carefully. “Anything you want.”

They move in tandem with his tongue. Finally having something to grip and clench around has the heat of your second orgasm growing to a full forest fire. Picturing yourself now, you wonder if any of your other neighbours have taken an interest in the new guy in town. If they’re watching now, catching a glimpse of you through his window. The thought has you moaning again, picturing inches of soft, revealed skin and Marcus’ hands on you through the eyes of a stranger.

Marcus fucking you in the dark SUV that occupies the driveway, taking you against the translucent accent window of your front hall. Privacy with that hint of exposure. The delicious subtlety of risk.

Maybe you kind of like it too.

Marcus sucks on your clit and the sensation consumes you, flames licking up your spine. You cum with a shudder and a curse. He slows his hand down, removing his index and middle from you to share another kiss.

“I’d like you inside me,” you whisper.

Teeth gnaw at your insides. You crave the closeness, his warmth. Leaning to the side of the mattress, Marcus pulls open his bedside drawer. He fishes a condom from its depths.

“You’re prepared,” you say with a smile.

Marcus shrugs as he carefully tears the wrapper. “I was a boy scout.”

You sit up to help him put it on, spitting in your palm before you wrap it around his length. “Of course you were.”

He watches your movements, rolling the plastic on at the head before you remove your hand. Marcus slides the condom down the rest of him, keeping the end pinched.

“I was expecting brownie points for that presentation,” he says.

You lean up to meet him on your knees, teasing him with the promise of another kiss. You just miss his lips with your own, planting a peck at the corner of his mouth.

“You don’t get a prize for watching your hot English teacher roll one onto a banana.”

Leveraging his shoulders, you have him seated and straddled in one swift move. Marcus sucks in a gasp as you hover your cunt over him, slicking his cock with your body. He holds himself, lining up to let you sink down easily. The stretch is slight, feeling a pinch as he splits you open. Grasping your shoulders, Marcus moans into the plate of your chest.

Grinding on him slowly, you pet his hair and hold the heat of his face to your skin. “There you go,” you sigh. “How’re you feeling?”

You squeeze around him right as Marcus opens his mouth to answer, words replaced by stuttering breaths. "Good, good. So good,” he says. “Feeling you…fuck. You’re beautiful.” Marcus rocks his hips up into you, taking over the pace as he grows a little frantic. The friction of short hair at the base of him keeps you sated, enjoying the feel as he follows his release.

“Think of you all the time,” he continues. “See you out and—god, ah—you’re always so beautiful. Shit… Always alone. I just—”

Marcus grinds into you a few more times before he spills into the condom, moaning into the kiss you give him. You stay together like that for a minute, reveling in the feeling of him. Then you slide off his lap, Marcus’ limp dick slipping from you. He stands to take the condom off and disappears into the en suite bathroom. When he returns, the two of you bundle up under the covers.

He lets you be little spoon, his hands swiping softly over your stomach. Marcus traces little shapes beside your belly button, lips meeting the top notch of your spine.

“How was that?” you ask, breaking the soft silence.

“An excellent first time,” he says. “More…more than I imagined it could be. Thank you.”

“I’m glad.” You bring your own hand to the arm that wraps around you, feeling him. “It’s kind of a two-way street. I haven’t—I’m not really accustomed to closeness anymore.” His grasp on you has your head abuzz, high on his touch. Then you ask, “You said you saw me?”

“Oh, right,” Marcus says, remembering. “Saw you around the neighbourhood. I was mostly impressed you were able to keep a handle on that Dalmatian without turning into the evil coat lady.” His corny joke still makes you laugh, one more for the night, even as you shake your head. “And…I don’t know. I never saw you with anyone. I kept wanting to come over and say hello. Say anything, really.”

“I would’ve liked that,” you say. “Would still like that. If you came and talked to me.” Talking, fucking, going through the motions.

“I think we’re a little past that,” he says.

“You know what I mean.”

“I’ll always come talk to you.” A beat of silence. “Just you and me, like two lonely people.”

[sadiestarrs]

It Always Resurfaces

Warnings: just a bit of swearing, use of y/n like twice, mentions of drinking, mentions of sex, hurt no comfort

A/N: tried to redeem myself after that other ellie fix because i absolutely hate it anyways this is probably gonna be a series

Plot: you found ellie cheating at a party and a month later you see her again

Word count: 1,700

Part one??

be with whoever you want

i don’t care, i don’t care

The blaring lights of the party you were at made your head start to hurt. Not to mention all the people crowding around, the heat from the dozens of bodies moving across the room.

Ellie had said she was going to get a drink, 15 minutes ago. She must have gotten lost because it couldn’t have taken that long.

You awkwardly stumble in between all the people, making your way to the kitchen. It was less busy but there were still groups of friends standing around. A bad feeling already settled down in your stomach, almost as if your gut was telling you to turn around and leave immediately.

Just as you step in, you see Ellie standing with a girl, a smile plastered on her face. Their conversation is muffled but you make out most of it.

“I mean, I was just looking for a drink but I think I found something better.”

She places a hand on the girl’s waist, pulling her closer. They stare at each other for a while, everything pausing.

She wouldn’t.

The girl reaches upwards, wrapping her arms around Ellie’s neck and kissing her, you nearly fall backwards, the weight of the world seeming to crush you.

You have to stop yourself from letting out a gut-wrenching sob, deep in your soul. How could she? What the fuck happened in fifteen minutes to make her forget about you so quickly?

Before you realise what you’re doing, you find yourself walking out of the party, trying to get away from everything. It was the middle of August but somehow you were so cold, desperately trying to calm yourself down.

You called an Uber, not bothering to leave a message about why you were leaving. Out of all of the things Ellie could do, cheating on you was the last thing you could’ve thought.

She couldn’t even be bothered to hide it, blatantly kissing someone in the middle of a party you were at. It all seemed fake. You just willed yourself to wake up and find out that this was just some sick joke.

No matter what you did, the scene played through in your mind, a never-ending loop.

I think I found something better.

~

It had been four weeks since the party. The first few days went quickly, you didn’t think of her much, mainly at night when it was colder and lonely. But like many things, you had to push through it. You couldn’t let her dictate everything in your life.

After a week you started to think more. How long would it be until you talked again? No, you couldn’t fail so easily. You had to show restraint.

Evenings had become the worst time, being alone with just your thoughts and a very depressing music taste with only songs about being heartbroken and left behind. Not even your favourite shows could distract you. Everything reminded you of her, every shade of green like her eyes, sarcastic jokes making you remember the same ones she made.

Ellie wasn’t holding up well either, going to any and every party she was invited to in hopes of seeing you but ultimately being disappointed when you didn’t show up and ending the night with a temporary fling, trying to fill the hole you left. Nothing worked. It was only until her friends reminded her that you had left that she realised.

They explained to her that you had seen them and that you needed a break.

It became useless to leave her apartment anymore. She didn’t eat, didn’t sleep. Not that she wanted to. She was just—there.

Dina had noticed Ellie’s lack of enthusiasm and started dragging her outside whenever she could, making sure that she was taking care of herself and being healthy. Other than you, Dina was the only person who took an interest in Ellie and eventually they saw eye-to-eye. It was gradual but the feelings were mutual, both of them having similar interests.

You started seeing other people too, none of them making you feel the same way, however. It was enough to rely on but you weren’t committed. Maybe some of Ellie’s traits were rubbing off of you.

“You okay?”

You’re caught off guard by the person accompanying you. She was a sufficient person, kind, and caring, but she cared a little too much.

It really didn’t make sense how you were annoyed at her checking up on you but cried when Ellie would leave for days at a time. Hell, you had even forgotten her name.

“Hm? Oh, yeah, I’m fine.” You pick up a pack of grapes instinctively without realising that Ellie was the one who ate them when you bought them.

“Are you sure? You’ve been acting weird all day.” She comes up to you, placing a hand on your shoulder.

“I’m fine,” you snap, leaving the basket and walking to another aisle.

Did she deserve that? No, not at all but a month had been the longest you’ve gone without seeing Ellie. Before that, it was 3 days, mainly because the urge to fuck someone became too annoying to ignore.

You angrily walk up and down the dairy aisle, thinking about everything. Did she not want you anymore? Surely a month was enough time to heal and forget everything? If you guys were going to get back together it would have happened a while ago. Maybe this was it?

As if she knew you were thinking about her, she turns down the aisle, stopping when she sees you. You can see her contemplate whether or not turning around would be a good idea but she takes a deep breath, inching closer.

She looked the same, her shoulders slightly slumped when she came towards you. What did she have to say now?

“Hey.”

“Hi.”

That was it. After a month of not seeing each other that’s all you had to say.

“How are you?” She asks, breaking the silence and sticking her hands in the pockets of her hoodie.

“I’m good, you?”

She just nods, “I’m fine as well.”

You both stand awkwardly, the freezing temperature of the fridges finally hitting you. Another person walks behind El.

“I was thinking about making pasta tonight. How does that sound?”

Ellie looks up at you before turning back, “That sounds great, um, this is y/n, Dina.”

Dina? Did she find someone else so quickly? How could she do that? It wasn’t even the girl at the party.

“Oh cool, how’d you know Ellie?”

“We were friends a while ago,” you say, holding your arms to your chest, withholding the truth. It was clearly not a good idea to spill all the messy details of your semi-relationship.

You say goodbye and walk away as fast as you could, tears trying to force out of your eyes. God, you were so stupid. Of course, she found someone else. Did you expect her to wait years? It was over now.

You wanted to feel relieved, happy that you could move on now but all you felt was pain, deep down in your soul, past your heart.

“I’m outside.”

You walk past your “partner”, telling her that you would wait in the parking lot, away from anyone. It was all too much. How could everything change in a matter of seconds like that?

Sitting on the edge of the pavement, you think about the first time you met Ellie. It was a party, one of your friend’s birthdays or something. She spotted you by yourself, standing in a corner after you caught your girlfriend cheating, again. It didn’t take much for you to go back to her apartment and spend the night and eventually, it became regular.

It was almost funny how you got cheated on twice, like history repeating itself. When it happened the first time you promised yourself that it wouldn't happen again but you got played.

Ellie didn’t make it feel meaningless, she cared. But she never showed it, the most affection she displayed was kissing your neck or hand and that was it.

When she walks out of the grocery store you see her place a hand on Dina’s face, bringing her lips close and actually kissing her. Properly. It nearly made you sob. The way she closed her eyes and helped with bags. Why couldn’t she do that with you?

They walk up to their car before El looks back at you and tells Dina to wait. Walking considerably slowly, she stands in front of you.

“So, what are you doing now?”

“It’s only been a month, El, nothing has changed.”

She sits down, still keeping a few inches between the two of you. “You don’t look okay.”

“How can you tell? You were never around to care about me.”

Humming in agreement, she sighs, going silent for a while. The silence isn’t comforting or uneasy, it was just silence. No one said anything. After about three minutes, she stands up again, not looking at you.

“I hope you know that I didn’t mean for it to end like that.”

You nod, trying to get her to make eye contact but it doesn’t happen. She didn’t mean for it to end like that. It? So she was aware of the way things ended but chose to say nothing.

You couldn’t stand even if you wanted to, it hurt too much. From their car you see Dina point towards you and Ellie shakes her head. She then responds by basically making out with her, basically having a front-row view, seeing everything through the windshield.

“Hey, I was looking for you, are you sure you’re okay?” The girl you were with comes out, holding a few bags.

“It’s over, I can’t even remember your fucking name let alone why I even agreed to be with you.”

You walk off before you can see her reaction. It felt bad, of course, but it was true.

Ellie remembered drinking herself to sleep when you weren’t there. The drowning in her chest, the look on your face when you closed the door after getting your stuff from her apartment, tattooed on her eyelids, a constant reminder of the hurt she caused.

[loislane41319]

Fear.

Pairing: Dean Winchester x reader

Wordcount: 3094

Summary: The first time Dean sees you scared.

Warnings: Typical Supernatural stuff. Vampires, beheading vampires, death, deep feelings of guilt, loss of loved ones.

Note: I'm sorry it's been so long since I've posted anything. All three of my best friends recently moved away and I've been going to therapy for, among other things, ADHD.

Last week I had my last therapie session and, while I wrote this a few weeks ago, today I finally finished editing it!

Thank you so much for waiting for me and I really hope you'll enjoy this.

For those who'd like something less violent I am working on a dad!Spencer Reid story. I don't know when I'll post that though.

Story:

Fear is a funny thing. It can just appear out of nowhere or it can sneak up on you, like some virus that you’re not aware of until after it’s caused an infection. Fear is a feeling, but unlike happiness or anger it always comes with a bodily reaction. Depending on the situation and the person, the body can react to fear in different ways. For instance, when you come eye to eye with a tiger, you might feel your chest start to tighten. This means your muscles are getting ready to take action, possibly in the form of fighting or in the form of running away. Others might start to sweat excessively, so that their bodies will stay cool while running and then there’s the kind of person who will drop to the ground and play dead. Now, when encountering a tiger the latter method is useless, because tigers will sneak up on you and attack from behind. However when you encounter a female bear protecting her cubs, pretending to be dead is exactly the way to go.

Now, these reactions stem from a long time ago when humans regularly came in contact with wild animals, because we lived amongst them and they were a source of food. Nowadays however, we might react to having a job interview or giving a presentation in the same way our ancestors would while encountering a sabre-toothed tiger. That is, unless your job is to hunt ghosts, demons or other supernatural beings.

Of course, these hunters are humans so they know fear. Probably even better than normal folk. The thing about hunters is that, while they are afraid, they don’t show it. They can’t, otherwise whatever creature they’re hunting will gain the upper hand. So, while learning what monsters are out there and how to beat them, a hunter will learn how to handle their fear. They’ll learn to keep their breathing under control, so they won’t start hyperventilating and panic, but they’ll be able to keep thinking clearly. They learn to think on their feet, so that, even when a creature does gain the upper hand, they can turn the tables just as fast. And most of all, they learn that being scared is okay, because their own fear won’t kill them, but whatever creature they’re facing might.

You are one of those hunters. You’ve been hunting for almost two decades and you’re good at it. You were also a mystery. You had some impressive kills to your name and so other hunters starting talking about you, but no one actually knew you. Rumours were spread and you were made out to be some kind of superhuman. Eventually, the word most used to describe you, was fearless.

The rumours eventually also reached the Winchesters. Dean was not only impressed, but intrigued by the stories he heard and his desire to meet you kept growing the more he heard about you. Sam however, had his doubts about the rumours floating around and would rather focus on facts.

Dean was granted his wish though. Four months ago you met the brothers while working the same case. You got along well and after working together and solving the case you worked together more and more.

While drinking a beer on the hood of his car, you even opened up to Dean about losing your mother as a child and since he went through something similar, you two became very close. Bit by bit you pulled away the veil that you had draped over your past. You shared stories about your family , your pain, but not your fear. Never your fear. To you, fear was something you couldn’t allow yourself to feel. Instead of learning to deal with it, you had taught yourself to bury it, deep down inside of you where no one, not even you, could get to it. And it worked. You killed vampires, ghosts, werewolves and demons all on your own. It didn’t even matter how many there were, you would always get the job done. Until one fateful night.

You and the Winchesters were working a case that involved multiple bodies, found with bite marks and without blood. The culprit was a vampire. That you knew almost instantly. What you didn’t know however, was how many there were or where they were held up. After the third victim was found, you realised all the bodies were left around an old abandoned factory and you decided to investigate.

Ever since you entered the town though, the hairs on the back of your neck had stood up straight. Why? You didn’t know. You just felt like something was off, but since you had no idea what, you shrugged it off and focused on the job you had to do.

The second you found yourself at the factory though, your heart started banging in your chest, harder than it ever had. But, as always, you shoved the feeling down and kept going. There were three buildings in the area and you decided to clear them together, one by one. The first building was empty. When you thought you had cleared the second building, suddenly you were pushed to the ground. You managed to catch yourself, but as your hands hit the ground, an image flashed through your brain. You saw your hands on the exact same floor except everything was covered in blood. What was going on? Within a second you were back to reality, without any idea what had just happened. Your skin was now clammy, your breathing heavy and you were sweating profusely. “Y/N, you okay?” You heard Dean ask. You got up and after turning around you noticed a beheaded body and blood dripping off of Sam’s machete. It was a vampire that had pushed you down. “Yeah, I’m fine. Let’s get to the last building.” You answered and all three of you kept going.

You walked over to the third building and stood next to Dean as Sam opened the door. Before entering, you swallowed hard, trying to calm yourself down. For a split second, you wondered if you should let Sam and Dean handle this building without you, but you immediately threw that thought out of the window. How could you even think about leaving your friends just when things got difficult?

The second you entered the factory hall, you felt like you had walked into a wall. You staggered backwards, slamming your back into the wall behind you as your brain was flooded with images of this very hall covered in blood and remains. Suddenly you heard your brother. He was screaming, vampires were growling and suddenly you were on the ground and the blood was gone. The next second you could see Sam and Dean fighting some vamps, but you couldn’t tell what was real anymore. You saw a vampire coming straight at you, but you weren’t sure if it was really there, so you had no idea what to do. You pressed yourself against the wall, pulling your knees against your chest. In an attempt to make everything stop, you covered your ears and closed your eyes, hiding your face between your knees.

As the last vampire’s head hit the floor, Dean started looking for you and Sam. He found his brother first, standing over another dead vampire a few feet away. “You okay?” Sam asked. “Yeah” Dean answered and he was about to ask where you were when he heard you whimpering. “No, no, no. Go away, leave me alone.” You mumbled. For a second Dean wasn’t sure if you were actually you. You were hyperventilating, tears were streaming down your face and you looked so small Dean could barely recognise the strong, powerful woman he had gotten to know in the last few months. Both brothers ran toward you and knelt down next to you. “Hey, Y/N? It’s Dean. It’s safe now. Nothing’s gonna hurt you. Can you open your eyes for me?” Dean softly asked. Somehow, through all the screaming and the blood and the violence in your head Dean’s voice was crystal clear. Like a light in the darkest night you tried your best to focus on his voice and you let him guide you back to reality. “Dean?” You managed to get out through sort breaths. “Yeah, Y/N, it’s me. It’s okay. Try to breathe.” He told you. You slowly looked up at him and while everything outside of you was calm and quiet, your body was still a complete chaos on the inside. “I-I can’t.” You told Dean as your right hand found your heart. “Yes you can. Here.” Dean said. He took your hand from your heart and placed it over his own. “Try to match my breathing. You can do this, I know you can.” He told you and you tried your best, but your erratic breathing didn’t change. Dean looked at his brother, wordlessly asking him for help. Sam held his hands up, wordlessly telling his brother he didn’t know how. Dean looked back to you. His heart broke seeing you like this and it hurt so much more because he couldn’t help you. He racked his brain, trying to think of anything that might help you. 

Suddenly, an idea popped into this head. It may have been the most ridiculous, dumb idea he ever had, but he had to help you and there was nothing else he could think of. Still holding your hand over his heart, Dean laid his other hand in your neck and pressed his lips against yours. 

In the last for months Dean had loved getting to know you. He deeply enjoyed hanging out with you and felt honoured every time you told him something about yourself you hadn’t told anyone else. He had wanted to ask you out for two months now, but had never found the courage to do that. About a week ago you were working on another case. You had found changelings and after killing the mother, one of the human kids didn’t want to leave their cage. It was a little, four-year-old girl and Dean couldn’t help but stare at you as you talked to her. “I know you’re scared and your mommy isn’t here right now, but I can take you to her.” You told her. “But there are scary people out there.” The little girl whispered. “I know, but I will be with you the whole way, so I can protect you, okay?” You asked her. “Even from him?” She whispered back, pointing at Dean. A small smile appeared on your face. “I know he seems scary, but that’s my friend Dean. He won’t hurt you, I promise.” You told her and as you took the girl into your arms, Dean realised he didn’t just like you. He was falling in love with you.

As he let you go, you could finally take a deep breath in. You took a few moments to steady your breathing and then you noticed the two faces staring questioningly at you. “Y/N, what happened?” Sam asked you. “Not here. I gotta get out of here first.” You told the brothers, shaking your head. They nodded and the three of you got up and left.

About an hour later, you were back at the motel. You and Dean had both taken showers and Sammy had gotten the dinner you were now enjoying. You made smalltalk for a few minutes, until Sam decided to address the elephant in the room. “Y/N, can you please tell us what happened? I mean, in the months that we’ve known you we’ve seen you kill all kinds of creatures, including vampires, without braking a sweat and tonight you had a full blown panic attack. Do you even know what caused it?” He asked. You softly sighed and nodded, knowing you could get around it any longer. “I grew up in a family of hunters. As you know, my mom died when I was little and so my dad and my brother started hunting together, leaving me at whatever seedy motel room we were staying in. One day, when I was fifteen, I decided I was old enough to join them. They didn’t agree, so I figured I’d prove it to them. They were after a vampire and I had overheard them talking about where they thought it would be that night. A few hours later, I snuck out and went there. The vampire was held up somewhere in an old factory. Three buildings and lots of ground to cover.”

“The place we were tonight.” Sam filled in. You nodded. “Yeah. I noticed the lights were on in the third building, so I went in. I found my dad and brother inside and it turned out there wasn’t just one vampire. There were five of them. The moment one of them noticed me, I screamed. It ran straight at me, but my brother managed to kill it in time. 

My dad however, had gotten distracted by my scream, giving another vamp enough time to stab him. My brother yelled at me to run, but there were still three vamps left. I did what he told me and waited for him outside, but he never came out. He was barely eighteen. He saved my life twice in one night and had to make up for it with his own.” You felt a tear slide down your face and fell quiet. “And all of that happened in the building we were in tonight?” Sam asked. You nodded. “I always felt like their deaths were my fault, because if I hadn’t screamed, they’d still be here. So I decided I couldn’t be scared anymore.” You admitted. “Y/N, I’m so sorry.” Sam told you. Dean took your hand, causing you look at him. “I’m so sorry about that, Y/N, but their deaths aren’t your fault, they’re the vamps fault and it’s okay to be scared. Everyone gets scared sometimes, you just can’t let that stop you.” He told you sincerely. “I mean, you’re sitting next to a guy who shits his pants every time the Plucky Pennywhistle’s commercial plays.” Dean added grinning. “Haha. Here’s an idea. Take Dean on a flight. He’ll scream like a little girl the whole way.” Sam bit back, got up and disappeared into the bathroom. 

The silence that followed was heavy. Dean cleared his throat and started gathering the fast-food wrappers that were all over the table. As he got up to throw them away, you decided you had to get something off of your chest. “Dean, how did you know kissing me would help me breathe?” You asked as you turned to him. He just shrugged. “Read it somewhere, I think.” He mumbled. “So, it was just that? Just a way to get me to take deeper breaths?” You asked, getting up and walking towards him. “Yeah, I was just trying to-“ You turned him towards you and softly pressed your lips against his, effectively cutting him off. He kissed you back, dropping the towel he was holding in the sink and wrapping his arm around your waist. One of your hands found its way into his hair, while the other intertwined both of your fingers. Then you pulled back. “I’m sorry, I did not mean to, I’d-“ You tried to walk away, but had somehow forgotten you were still holding Deans hand. “Not so fast. I have something to admit. I didn’t just kiss you to stop you from panicking. I didn’t know what to do and I wanted to kiss you before it was too late.” Dean said while walking closer to you. “Really?” You asked him. “Yeah. I’ve wanted to ask you out for months, but I was so scared of losing you that I kept chickening out. So, this is me, not letting my fear stop me. Y/N, will you go out with me? Because I think I’m falling for you.” You were so close, your foreheads and noses touched and you could feel Dean’s breath against your lips as he talked. You pressed another kiss to his lips and a smile appeared on his face. “Yes, I’ll go on a date with you. And Dean? I fell for you four months ago.” You told him. Dean kissed you again and then you finally let go of his hand. “We should get some sleep. I’ll see you in the morning.” You told him, trying not to laugh at the pout on his face.

The moment the door closed behind you, you felt cold. Part of you wanted to get back inside and stay with Dean until the morning and another part you was yelling at you because it’s just one night. You could be without him for that long, couldn’t you? So, you went to your own room and got ready for bed. Once in bed, though, you couldn’t sleep. You kept tossing and turning and for whatever reason you were freezing. After a few minutes, you decided enough was enough. You got out of bed and made your way back to Sam and Deans room. The light was still on and Sam was still in the shower. Dean was in bed flipping though channels. His hand disappeared under his pillow when the door opened, until he noticed it was you. “Hey, what’s up?” He asked and turned off the tv. “Hey, can I sleep here tonight?” You asked softly. Then you saw the most adorable thing you had seen in a while. Deans eyes started shining and his lips turned into the sweetest smile. “Come here.” He said. He held up a corner of the blanket and moved back as you crawled into bed next to him. The first moments were a little awkward as Dean was laying with his back toward the edge of the bed and you laid with your back towards him. He loosely laid an arm around your waist and waited to see how you’d react. You took his hand, intertwined your fingers and pulled it against your heart. Then you softly kissed Dean’s knuckles and the awkwardness melted away. Dean wrapped his other arm around you too and pulled you against his chest. “Goodnight, handsome.” You whispered. “Goodnight, sweetheart.” Dean whispered back and pressed a soft kiss to your shoulder. Not two minutes later you were both fast asleep when Sam came out of the bathroom. He immediately noticed you in his brothers bed and couldn’t help but smile. Finally.

[lavendertales]

Sweet lies: Chapter 6

pairing: Frankie Morales x f!reader 

summary: Frankie’s relationship with Andrea takes a surprising turn; in the meantime, you spend a girl’s night with Rose, desperately trying to forget what happened on Valentine’s Day, only for the night to end with a stupid decision.

word count: 4k

Comments & reblogs are always appreciated 💕

gif: @conveniently-available​ 

series masterlist | AO3

His heart’s still racing, nearly twenty four hours later. Sleep eluded him throughout the night, and nothing could make him feel less fidgety or anxious.

He fucked up. Again. Only this time he’s hurt more than one person in the process.

Frankie hadn’t bolted out of a social gathering like that since—ever. When he returned inside the bungalow, all of his friends were staring at him as he was roaming around in a haste, gathering his things and muttering some rushed apology about why he had to leave. It was shitty, maybe, but he had to get out of there. He couldn’t handle the shocked look on your face, more so the implications of what he had just done.

Most importantly, he couldn’t handle the thought at the back of his mind, nastily whispering to him “more”.

He had to go, he had to rush back home and wait for the next day, when he could go to the airport to pick up Andrea. His fiancé.

Oh God. Oh God, this is bad. This is so fucking bad.

Now, as he’s driving to the airport, his mind spins seemingly wild, but in the sea of incoherent thoughts, some manage to get themselves in a line, thus devising a plan of action.

First, he will explain everything to Andrea. He will apologize and grovel, tell her that it meant nothing, that it was some stupid, tipsy decision because he was missing her so much, and hope she’ll forgive him.

And then, he’ll explain everything to you.

He will apologize to you as well, tell you that he wasn’t thinking straight and that the moment was just a misunderstanding, a wrong move on his part, and hope that you will forgive him for this, and for the way he’s hurt you before.

So the plan is to lie.

But it’s because he cares about both you and Andrea that he cannot hurt either one of you, not any more than he already has. He’s spent most of his twenties next to Andrea, actively choosing her and building a future with her, and he knows where his loyalty should be. But he also knows that he’s hurt you, and he wants to at the very least earn your forgiveness, if nothing more.

As he stands in the middle of the crowded airport, his eyes anxiously roaming through the crowd in search for Andrea’s figure, Frankie reminisces of last night. He’s not stupid; he knows he had one beer too many, became jealous over his best friend and acted stupidly. The kiss was a mistake, clearly.

A soft, passionate mistake that under no circumstances will ever happen again.

His lips burn and ache when he thinks about it. In the freezing temperatures, your mouth was sweet and warm, unlike your attitude towards him. You’ve been pushing him away, and for all the right reasons, too. He understands that. Which is why he hadn’t even told you half of the things on his mind, things that have been lingering in his brain from the second he locked eyes with you in that restaurant nearly a month ago.

He can’t say any of those things, though. It’s not fair and it’s not right towards Andrea. So he has to be honorable and fair, like he was raised to be, and fix everything.

Suddenly, arms wrap him in a tender embrace. Frankie quickly realizes Andrea saw him first and rushed to hug him, so he immediately reciprocates, a little eased too. He pecks her lips, a bitter taste now in his mouth.

It’s not the same, the little pesky voice at the back of his head mutters. It’s not the same, and I hate everything about it.

“How was the conference?” Frankie asks, taking her luggage.

“Oh, you know doctors. Blah, blah, blah and a lot of medical jokes.”

He chuckles, staring at the floor. He finds he’s too guilty to even look at her properly, and it’s starting to corrode him from inside out.

“What about you, how was Valentine’s Day with the gang?” Andrea asks in return, and Frankie’s heart stills, almost sinking.

“Well uh… the guys had some big news. Will and Mia are engaged.”

“Oh, that’s wonderful! I can’t believe I missed that.”

“And Benny and Emily are moving in together.”

“What?! The one time I miss and they decide to make all these life-changing announcements? Not cool.”

Frankie chuckles as he puts her luggage into the car, gulping. It’s after he closes the trunk that he looks at her, noticing the little freckles on her nose, barely visible, and he smiles in the slightest.

“What?” Andrea asks.

“I missed you.”

That’s what you said the other night, too. You know, to another woman.

Tell her, you coward.

“Baby, I… there’s something I want to tell you,” he gulps.

Andrea’s face wears a certain seriousness about it, much like Frankie’s.

“Actually, I want to tell you something, too,” she replies, to which Frankie frowns.

“Okay.”

“We should probably talk about it at home though.”

“Right.”

The drive back home had been mostly pleasant in spite of the previous grim tone they both had. Andrea told him all about the conference and the medical devices and pharmaceuticals several sale agents tried to sneak by, as well as how much some of the doctors drank at the evening banquet. Frankie laughed, as he always does, and for a moment, nothing seemed out of the ordinary. Nothing felt broken.

But the moment they get through the doors, the atmosphere changed again. The more Frankie looks at Andrea, the more he starts to fear that she has some distressing news, too. In a weird way, he hopes that would even things out.

But how is that fair to either one of them?

“So,” Andrea smiles awkwardly, rubbing her palms against her jeans.

“So.”

“What did you want to say?”

“You go ahead.”

Andrea inhales, starting to roam around the living room, visibly nervous.

“Well, as much fun as the conference was,” she starts, “it was also kind of… nerve-wrecking.”

“How so?”

“Most of my colleagues kept asking me questions about the wedding, and at first I was smiling and answering politely, and then… it started to get harder to breathe the more I talked about it.”

Frankie frowns, not really following the story, but not interrupting either.

“And after half a day of talking about it and having trouble breathing, I realized I haven’t actually grasped the whole idea. You know, marriage. An official document that binds us together forever. And it’s… it feels a bit overwhelming. A lot, actually.”

“Are you having second thoughts?”

The guilt and fear on Andrea’s face are perfectly legible, and it makes Frankie concerned more than anything.

“I think I am,” she confesses, and it rocks Frankie. “But not about you! You’ve been the perfect boyfriend, the perfect partner so far, in every way. It’s just—“

“I’m far from that, Andrea, trust me.”

She rushes to grab Frankie’s hands, and the way she’s staring at him, with a certain mixture of pity and fear, is hitting him harder than he would’ve expected.

But then he recalls the dreadful thing he’s done, and he realizes he shouldn’t feel like this is unfair to him in any way.

“It feels so permanent, you know?” she mutters, distressed. “Kind of like a tattoo, you wonder if you really wanna get it because it’ll be there forever.”

“Some people just go for it, not thinking twice.”

“I know, I know, and I wanna be one of those people because I love you, I love you a lot—“

Frankie squeezes her hands in his, hoping to calm her down in the slightest. He notices her teary eyes, and he wonders if there isn’t any more to it.

“Did something happen at the conference?” he asks.

Andrea’s eyes widen, and he can see that. He just chooses to not overthink it. The moment is already as confusing as it could possibly be.

“No, of course not,” she rushes to say.

“Then what’s going on? What do you really want, Andrea?”

She takes a deep breath, looking up in an attempt to prevent tears from falling down her cheeks.

“I was thinking… it might be a good idea to take a break from all this wedding planning and talking.”

“Okay, I think that’s a good idea. We can go for a weekend away, just us two, so we can—“

Frankie loses his string of thought when he sees Andrea nodding her head, her face now completely saddened by her thoughts. His forehead creases under the weight of his frown as he stares at her, waiting.

“I meant… maybe we should take a break, us two,” she murmurs.

Then it hits him. “Oh.”

“It’s not because of you, Frankie, sweetie, I promise it isn’t! It’s me and my stupid insecurities and fears, and so I thought… what if we take a break, spend some time apart so we—well, I—figure out some stuff?”

“We’re supposed to get married in three months.”

“I know, I know that.”

“Do you wanna cancel it? I don’t really get what—“

“No, no. Let’s leave it in place, but put us on hold for a bit. We’ll come back stronger to each other.”

Frankie contemplates, momentarily forgetting all about the distressing news he wanted to share with Andrea in the first place. He’s still not quite understanding where this is coming from, or what exactly such a break entails, but what he does know is that he is in no position to judge or be mad, in any way.

“Okay,” he surrenders.

“Okay?”

He nods. “If this is what you need, this is what we’ll do.”

Andrea hugs him tightly, and more guilt washes over him.

“What happens if you decide you don’t wanna go through with this at all?” Frankie asks.

And Andrea remains silent. Instead, she breaks the hug, staring at him.

“You do remember your parents basically set this whole thing up and they’ll probably kill me, right?”

She manages to giggle, cupping his cheek. “They won’t. And… don’t worry, we’ll find a way through it. I just need a bit of time to find myself, that’s all.”

Frankie nods, unable to mutter other words.

“The last thing I wanna do is hurt you, Frankie,” she tells him sweetly, and he believes her.

“I don’t wanna hurt you either. Please say you know that.”

“I know. Of course I know that. So whatever it is you wanted to tell me… don’t worry about it.”

“But—“

“I sprung this whole break thing on you, so I think at the very least, you deserve to have a free conscience.”

If only that were true.

Every fiber of his being is shouting at him to just come out and say what he had done, and yet, he remains locked in her arms and in the silence. He thinks there might be some truth to Andrea’s idea. Spending some time apart might be good for them.

You’ve never wanted to leave a party more than you wanted to leave that faithful Valentine’s Day.

You practically bolted out of there, with everyone wondering if something had happened, and with you muttering some random excuses, basically saying you weren’t feeling well. Which wasn’t far from the truth.

You didn’t feel good knowing what happened.

After Emily packed you some of her heart shaped cookies, you excused yourself again and agreed to have Will drive you home. He hadn’t been drinking, which was lucky for you. Of course he also pushed for the truth as to what happened out there, but you wouldn’t divulge anything. You couldn’t. You were to blame just as much as Frankie.

You kissed him back. You reciprocated the kiss, which means you wanted it. You should’ve pushed him away the second it happened, and yet…

You found a little voice at the back of your head, tiny like a vicious gremlin, muttering “more”. The press of Frankie’s lips on yours was like nothing you’ve ever tasted or imagined, and now your body began to crave more of that.

It wasn’t enough. And it scared you because you wanted the same thing from an almost married man.

You couldn’t. You wouldn’t let it develop any further. That is not who you are, and that is not who you would become.

So you did what you always do when you’re feeling overwhelmed or when you’re overthinking: you shut yourself from the world. You avoided all calls and texts from everyone for the next week, with the exception of Rose. You figured you should at least allow your best friend into your life.

Next Friday, you heard a persistent knock on your door. You already knew who it was before you even stood from the couch, but you still found it amusing enough to yell just outside the door, “Who is it?”

“Cut the crap and open the door!”

Chuckling, you open and you’re met with a fuming Rose. Your smile fades as you purse your lips together in shame. Rose practically storms in, hands on her hips as she’s questioning you with a single glare.

“Where the hell have you been?” she starts. “We’ve all been calling and texting you all week.”

“I know that. Work’s getting pretty busy.”

Rose’s eyes narrow as she crosses her arms at her chest, walking slowly towards you.

“Cut the crap,” she says, and you feel like chuckling again at how adorable she looks when she’s pissed and concerned. “What happened last week?”

You exhale, avoiding her eyes for once. “What makes you think something happened?”

“How dumb do you think I am?”

“Not one bit.”

“You’d better not, because I am onto you, baby girl. Something happened with you and Frankie.”

You gulp, praying that your face wouldn’t divulge anything. You weren’t ready to confess such a heinous act, not even to your best friend in the whole world.

“You guys got into it on the porch,” Rose continues.

You make a face. “Uh, maybe ‘getting into it’ isn’t the right phrasing.”

“Fine. You bickered. An argument ensued. Whatever.”

With pursed lips, you nod once as if in agreement. You think it’s best to leave things at that. No point in hurting more people by exposing such a devilish little secret. It was a mistake that will never be repeated, and there is no reason to involve everyone in your mess.

“How bad could it have been for you to just run away?” Rose asks, her tone exuding sheer concern now. “He left in a hurry, too.”

“Yeah, I saw that. You know, to be honest, at some point… there weren’t even that many words exchanged.”

“Look, I know this is hard, I understand. But you guys arguing isn’t doing anyone any good. It’s only hurting you more.”

“I know.”

“And you said it yourself that Andrea is pretty awesome and that you like her, so… there’s gotta be a way to make things work.”

“I know. I am… more than willing to bury the hatchet, let go of my pettiness and hurt and whatever and move on.”

“Good! With that in mind, get dressed. We’re getting drunk tonight.”

“Finally!”

Rose’s tone doesn’t suggest openness for discussion, so you giggle and shrug and move into your bedroom to get dressed. You do your best to put all your worries aside, at least for tonight. You just need a little distraction, and spending time with your best friend might just be the medicine you need.

Half an hour later, you’re in Rose’s car, in the passenger seat, slowly inhaling and exhaling. You’ve never kept any secrets from her, and you feel beyond guilty, but this is your mess, and talking about it wouldn’t help. It would only call more disruption to the group’s lives, and you do not want that.

“So,” you break the silence. “How come you’re free? Was Santi busy tonight?”

Rose clears her throat, visibly flustered behind the wheel.

“I’m sorry if I’ve been a little… loopy.”

“Relax, I’m teasing you! Mostly.”

You both chuckle. “I know how you felt about him back in high school and how you still feel about him, apparently… and I couldn’t be happier that you guys are finally getting your shot at happiness. Seems like you guys really hit it off.”

Rose smiles briefly at you, focused on the road.

“We did,” she admits shyly. “You’re okay with this though, right?”

You frown, bemused at Rose’s question. “Why wouldn’t I be okay with this?”

“Well… it’s just that the two of you had that… thing a couple of years back and if there were still any feelings left…”

“It wasn’t a ‘thing’. We just… hung out a few times. No big deal.”

The side-eye Rose gives you is plenty for you to feel judged.

“Oh, come on!” you exclaim in frustration.

“It’s okay to call it like it is. Be a normal person about it.”

“Fine. We briefly dated, and the flame of our young love died as fast as it was turned on.”

“Didn’t fool around at all?”

“Nope.”

“Really? Have you seen the man?”

You chuckle. “I did and yes, he’s gorgeous. What we had was a very brief and distracted makeout session in a parking lot at night, got interrupted, and then called it quits. So don’t worry, you have my blessing.”

“How are you in a car, at night, with a guy like that and don’t at least do hand stuff?”

You make a grossed out face along with a disapproving sound.

“Because I need a bit more decency than that,” you reply.

“You won’t say that after you try being indecent once or twice in your life.”

You shake your head, glad to see you’ve finally arrived at one of your favorite places in town. You all used to hang out here after school, having either beers or cappuccinos and shooting pool, and it feels like it was yesterday.

You pick a table that’s more reserved and order two mojitos to get you started. You look around, thinking how much easier it was back then in high school. The only worries you had were homework and still being able to hang out with your friends over the weekend. Now, it all seems like a fever dream.

“Still hung up on Frankie, are we?” Rose asks.

You remain quiet, processing.

“Wow,” Rose coos, checking your face. “You’re not even denying it. You still got it bad for him, don’t you?”

“I can’t. He’s engaged.”

“I know you’re being honorable by shoving these feelings down, but there’s no off switch to them, unfortunately.”

“Rose… of course I can’t just turn it off. He’s the love of my life. I can’t just erase that. The love of my life is getting married and I have to sit around and witness their lovey-dovey display of affection.”

“I thought you liked Andrea.”

“I do, but I can multitask.”

Rose chuckles, taking a sip from her drink. “You don’t think they’re gonna invite you to the wedding, do you?” she asks.

“Oh, I already got invited. By Andrea, no less. I think it was her intention rather than Frankie’s. I politely declined and said I can’t attend. I can’t watch him get married. I just can’t.”

Rose caresses your hand, encouraging you to focus on your drink instead. So you do that. You live in the moment, sipping cocktails and listening to Rose’s giggly stories about her and Santiago and how smitten they seem to be with each other, trying your fucking best to not remember how lonely you feel.

Or how bad you feel for what happened last week.

But worst of all… how bad you feel for craving more.

You can’t. You cannot crave anything else. All you can hope is forgiveness and understanding.

You wonder if Frankie told Andrea. You wonder if she was pissed. You wonder if she’s going to punch you.

You’re not sure when the turning point happens, when you stop wondering and worrying about all of that. All you know is that the cocktails keep on coming, you and Rose keep laughing together, and it all seems right in the world. For a little while.

A buzzing interrupts the laughter at the table, and you hear Rose grunting, checking the phones on the table.

“Ugh, why did I bring this stupid phone?!” she complains.

“Don’t you always say communication is good?” you giggle, fumbling with the straw of your drink.

“Yes but now from my work phone, Jesus! Ughhhhh, hold on, I gotta—I gotta take this.”

You put your hands in the air in protest. “It’s Friday night, we’re out drinking! This is so unprofessional of you! Well, not to them, to them you’re a—brilliant employee. But you’re unprofessional to me! Un… friend—ly. You are an unfriend to me!”

Rose is way out of your earshot, but you’re not really present anymore anyway. However, you find yourself mindlessly scrolling on your phone through all the apps, even calculator, calendar and contacts. Since Rose seems to be taking forever on her work call, this is how you entertain yourself.

And then, you sober up momentarily. The name that stands before you brings all sorts of emotions out of you, and you know, somewhere at the back of your mind, that you shouldn’t give it any more power than you already have.

But you also know that you are tired. Tired of pretending, of acting like a cold bitch, you are tired of all the acting like you’re not hurt. Because you are.

And no one’s ever apologized to you for making you feel this way, or for turning you this way.

“Not fair,” you mutter, dialing the number. “Not fair, nothing… is fair.”

“Hey, this is Frankie. I can’t pick up right now, so you know what to do.”

You roll your eyes, and you compose your booze-infused brain to come up with something regarding the reason for your call.

“Hi, it’s me,” you say. “So, here’s the thing. I’m upset and pissed, and a large part of that is because of you. And… you know, it sucks. It sucks so hard to pretend like I have moved on, like all is good, because… it’s not. Nothing is good. Nothing is fair. And you—you owe me, Francisco. For leaving that way, for leaving me… you owe me. An apology would be nice, for start.”

You pause, realizing you’re not sure where to go on from there.

“You hurt me. Every day and every night since you ghosted me… I’ve missed you. You hurt me, and I still missed you. How fucking hilarious and sad for me, huh? But what you don’t understand is… I loved you. I loved you so much I could only breathe properly when you were around me. I could only be myself when you were around me. I loved you, and you left me. All I wanted was you, and… clearly our interests changed somewhere along the line, because this is not the Frankie Morales that I love.”

You blurrily notice Rose approaching the table, walking a little bit funny, and you giggle.

“Anyway, point is,” you end the message, “you owe me an apology, and I hope you told Andrea about last weekend because I don’t wanna be a homewrecker. I might love you and all, but I don’t wanna ruin a marriage. So either love her entirely, with all you’ve got... or choose me. Love me. Your friend.”

You finally hang up, putting the phone back on the table where you found it, and smile innocently at Rose for the rest of the night. Just for the night, you’ll have a good time with your best friend and not think about anything else that hurts you.

previous | next

[elialys]

Channeling positive energy for 2024

I have been very listless for at least the last couple of years (if not since 2020 and the whole pandemic mess), resulting in a pretty rough depressive episode that peaked this last November. It's hard to feel motivated to do anything concrete to improve your own life when everything around you is just...bleak. And this world does suck so much, so often, in so many ways.

But then I remember how I innately believe that most people are good, and that I am good, too, and that the one thing that always makes me feel better when I'm low is to do something helpful for someone, or to just be kind if I don't have the spoons for more.

(Putting this big ramble under read more)

I think I've mentioned it here before but I've made the decision to try and get into a new field of work, which involves at least two if not three years of studying. Let me tell you, I'm about to turn 36 in a couple of weeks. It's scary as fuck to do something like this. But this job, if I get into the school I need to get into, will be perfect for me. I'll be helping people who need guidance and compassion basically every day.

The bond I got to build with my students was my absolutely favorite part of teaching, but I got overwhelmed by everything else. I burned myself out in less than four years because I became a workaholic who worked 70 hours a week, never took a breath, tried tried tried, yet never felt like I was doing enough. The pressure was incredible, the 'I have to be around hundreds of people every single day', performing in front of entire classrooms full of kids 6h a day'...it just wore me down. Loved my kiddos to death, loved my science team so much, but then the pandemic hit and I lost a few family members within a few months, and I realized it was time for me to go home after 12 years abroad.

The meanest part of my brain likes to tell me I've spent the last four years being basically a useless human blob, but realistically, I know I wasn't. I had been working my ass off since 2011, when I was in America nannying two young kids all day long then going to school full time at night/weekends, before being hired as a teacher in England for 4 years.

I needed the break, I needed time with my loved ones. I needed to help grieving family members, especially my little sister with ASD, who had to learn to navigate life without her mom, who also developed epilepsy on top of everything else while our father pretended nothing was happening. I needed to spend time with my grandmother, who did so much for me when I was young and who's all alone, now. I'll even go as far as saying I've been working on fixing things with my mother this past year living with her, which was not an easy thing. Still isn't, but it's so much better than it used to be, and she's trying, too.

But I'm ready to get my life "back on track", or at least, to get busier , more proactive, more helpful to others who aren't in my inner circle, because I know that's what I'm good at, and why I'm here.

So, yeah, channeling positive thoughts for 2024. I'm not only going to work on getting into that school in the next few weeks, I also just received an email a couple days ago from an editor I used to work with. She's a writing director somewhere else now, and they need writers for a new webcomic project; she told me she immediately thought of me because they'd always been happy with my work, so I'm going to test for that, too, because why the hell not. Actually getting paid for the stuff I was writing a couple of years ago was the most surreal, rewarding experience of my writer life, and I wouldn't mind that happening again.

I want to give the biggest shoutout to my best friend & other butt cheek, @melusine0811, for helping me navigate those last four years, for always believing in me, and for being so fucking courageous when life is just so damn hard. Lauren, you're the bravest person I know, and forever my Donna Noble.

And because I'm sappy this weekend, awards and all, I'm also sending my thanks to my Australian unicorn, just for existing somewhere out there, for being a role model to me from afar these last thirteen years, for being another perfect example of people persevering no matter what, doing the things they love, while always trying to be kind to others in the process. I don't believe in much, but I believe in karma. You do good deeds, good things will happen to you.

Be kind to each other, my lovelies. Always be kind.

[perspectivestarters]

Perspective's Sentence Starters; SOUR by Olivia Rodrigo (Part II)

ENOUGH FOR YOU

I wore makeup when we dated 'cause I thought you'd like me more.

Tried so hard to be everything that you liked.

I knew how you took your coffee and your favorite songs by heart.

I read all of your self-help books so you'd think that I was smart.

Stupid, emotional, obsessive little me.

I knew from the start this is exactly how you'd leave.

You found someonе more exciting, the nеxt second, you were gone.

You left me there cryin', wonderin' what I did wrong.

You always say I'm never satisfied, but I don't think that's true

All I ever wanted was to be enough for you.

Maybe I'm just not as interesting as the girls you had before.

You couldn't have cared less about someone who loved you more.

I'd say you broke my heart, but you broke much more than that,

I don't want your sympathy.

I just want myself back.

Don't you think I loved you too much to be used and discarded?

Don't you think I loved you too much to think I deserve nothing?

Don't tell me you're sorry.

Feel sorry for yourself.

Someday, I'll be everything to somebody else.

You'll be the one who's crying.

You say I'm never satisfied, but that's not me, it's you.

I don't think anything could ever be enough for you.

Nothing's enough for you.

HAPPIER

We broke up a month ago.

You know I know you've moved on, found someone new.

One more girl who brings out the better in you.

I thought my heart was detached.

Does she mean you forgot about me?

I hope you're happy, but not like how you were with me.

I'm selfish, I know.

I can't let you go

So find someone great, but don't find no one better.

I hope you're happy, but don't be happier.

Do you tell her she's the most beautiful girl you've ever seen?

An eternal love bullshit you know you'll never mean.

Remember when I believed you meant it when you said it first to me?

But she's beautiful, she looks kind.

She probably gives you butterflies.

I wish you all the best, really.

Say you love her, baby, just not like you loved me.

Think of me fondly when your hands are on her.

JEALOUSY, JEALOUSY

I kinda wanna throw my phone across the room.

All I see are girls too good to be true.

Wish I didn't care.

I know their beauty's not my lack.

It feels like that weight is on my back.

I can't let it go.

Comparison is killin' me slowly.

I think I think too much. 'bout kids who don't know me.

I'm so sick of myself

I'd rather be anyone else.

My jealousy started followin' me.

I see everyone gettin' all the things I want.

I'm happy for them, but then again, I'm not.

Oh god, I sound crazy.

Their win is not my loss.

I can't help gettin' caught up in it all.

All your friends are so cool.

Got a pretty face, a pretty boyfriend, too.

I wanna be you so bad and I don't even know you.

All I see is what I should be.

I'm losin' it.

FAVORITE CRIME

Know that I loved you so bad I let you treat me like that.

I was your willing accomplice, honey.

I watched as you fled the scene.

One heart broke, four hands bloody.

The things I did just so I could call you mine.

Well, I hope I was your favorite crime.

You used me as an alibi?

I crossed my heart as you crossed the line.

I defended you to all my friends.

Now every time a siren sounds, I wondеr if you're around.

You know that I'd do it all again.

It's bittersweet to think about the damage that we'd do.

I was goin' down, but I was doin' it with you.

I say that I hate you with a smile on my face.

Oh, look what we became.

Baby, you were mine

HOPE UR OK

I knew a boy once when I was small.

He played the drum in the marching band.

His parents cared more about the Bible than being good to their own child.

He wore long sleeves 'cause of his dad.

Somehow, we fell out of touch.

Hope he took his bad deal and made a royal flush.

Don't know if I'll see you again someday.

If you're out there, I hope that you're okay.

She raised her brothers on hеr own.

Her parents hated who shе loved.

She couldn't wait to go to college.

She was tired 'cause she was brought into a world where family was merely blood.

Does she know how proud I am she was created?

We don't talk much, but I just gotta say.

I miss you and I hope that you're okay.

Address the letters to the holes in my butterfly wings.

Nothing's forever.

Nothing is as good as it seems

I hope you know how proud I am you were created with the courage to unlearn all of their hatred.

But, god, I hope that you're happier today.

I love you.

I hope that you're okay.

[sunbrightheart]

@elucienweekofficial | day five: nature. | Chapter One: The Inner-workings Of Meddling. | Read more here.

Lucien

With smooth, controlled movements, Lucien opened the largest pocket of his leather travel bag and carefully placed the metallic container down upon his folded clothing, securing it in place to make sure it didn’t shift in its position when he winnowed.

It was intricately assorted with trinkets and nicknacks he had accumulated over the months on his travels throughout Pyrthian and the Continent, intended for an ideal gift to the princeling of Night as an apology for his extended absence.

And knowing the eccentric nature of the youngling and his interest in all things puzzling, Lucien was sure Nyx would enjoy it.

“Kit!” A gruff voice called, “It’s almost mid-morning!”

“I am quite aware of the time, General.” He responded, equally exasperated. “There is no need to fret like a mother hen.”

With a fond shake of his head, he rechecked that he had all his belongings packed within their designated pockets, proceeding to clasp the buckles and mount the bag upon his shoulder. Deft fingers retrieved a long, golden hairpin—a gift from Nuan, that also transformed into a quill when pressure was applied to the pearl at the tip—from his dresser and twisted his hair into a stylish bun.

It made for a fashionable up-do, as well as keeping his hair intact for the less than ideal winnowing conditions, even as early spring reigned upon the Human Lands.

“Kit!” Jurian hollered,

Past the threshold of his room on the second floor, down the corridor to the narrow staircase leading to the open foyer of the formerly known Nolan Manor—now called the Exiles Manor, a running joke between the exiles themselves—stood Jurian in all his barely contained, sleep deprived glory. Disheveled and donned in his usual getup, he looked about ready to command the sun to rest behind the world with the sheer force of his will.

As was the usual for Jurian, seeing as he detested the very sun that arose within the sky.

“You were supposed to meet with Feyre an hour ago.” The man stated, levelling him with an arched brow.

Lucien sniffed, feigning haughtiness, “With a male as myself assigned three, bordering on four separate jobs, I think I am allowed a bit of leeway.”

Jurian huffed out an unconvinced laugh, “You’re stalling.”

“I’m stalling.” He sighed, shoulders slumping forward in resignation.

As much as he was elated to reunite with his beloved friend and her son after having not seen them in so long, the fact stayed that he did not enjoy travelling to the Night Court. Tried to avoid visiting the place when it seemed unnecessary to do so otherwise—unless for the cause of occasionally reporting to Rhysand.

It wasn’t the court itself, or even the starlit city of Velaris. He admired the starry, picturesque landscape and the jovial atmosphere that surrounded that of its people, was fascinated with the Illyrian culture and enjoyed the flavour-inducing native delicacies of their food.

But it seemed however hard he tried to revel in such things within the moment, that he was reminded yet again that he simply did not belong.

The Nights’ High Lord was accommodating at best and patronising as worst; his Inner Circle were distrustful of him if not a bit hostile, and enjoyed taunting him for the amusement of their own as they waited for his well-crafted exterior to crack; and though she was likely the most welcoming of them all in comparison to Feyre’s chosen family, Elain avoided him as if he were contagious.

Lucien didn’t begrudge them, of course. But each time he visited, it became increasingly difficult to ignore their blatant display of arrogance.

So, the solution? He stayed away.

A calloused hand gripped his shoulder, bringing Lucien out from his reverie. He looked over to the man beside him, who was observing Lucien with a calculating gleam in his dark eyes.

“What was it that you were intending to do for the day?” Jurian asked,

“Take the little one fishing, perhaps a swim in the Sidra if the weather is agreeable.”

Jurian hummed as he rubbed an absent hand along the rough stubble lining his jaw, a troublesome smile alighting his features into the epitome of mischief. The particular expression did not bode well for Lucien, and put him immediately on edge.

“What is that look for?” Lucien demanded, an accusing finger pointing at the mans face.

“Nothing,” With a wave of his hand, as if expelling a rogue insect, Jurian dismissed him. “Now hurry along, you’ll be late otherwise.”

“Since when did you care for being on time?”

Jurian merely winked at him.

Yes, Lucien thought, as he readied himself to winnow. This, indeed, does not bode well.

Elain

Elain wiped the beading drops of precipitation clinging to the hair at her temples, most likely leaving behind a streak of soil across her forehead from her earth-sunken fingers. It was well into mid-morning, the early spring sun setting into her ever chilled bones as warmth unfurled around her like the heat of an open furnace.

She had forgone her usual gardening hat—a well thought gift given to her by none other than her now brother-in-law, Cassian—in favour of savouring the first licks of light across the Night Court. The previous winter just gone had been disastrously frigid, and though it made for the excuse of spending excessive time with her youngest sister and her family, it had Elain realising how much she missed the delectable heat of the sun rays lighting down upon her skin as it did now.

Not that many of the others seemed to mind either of the two seasons, seeing as they ever rarely got sick of the snow-misted chill permeating the air, as was the usual of the Night Court. It always seemed to be a bit colder, the darkness of the shadows altering the very weather.

Which however ridiculous, seemed to reflect Elain’s innermost feelings—particularly how stagnant she felt. So unlike the liveliness of those around her who always had something to do, meetings to attend to, people of important standing to entertain.

It reminded her yet again of how desperately lonely she was, how much she missed the company of another.

She knew she had her sisters, and in addition their mates; she had the presence of Rhysand’s extended family and their Inner Circle; she even had Nuala and Cerridwen as her beloved friends—despite their occupation as Rhysand’s handmaids and their occasional spy work for Azriel.

But in conclusion, that was about it.

They each had their own lives and assigned jobs that they all had to attend to, and Elain was merely assigned to her own devices of gardening. Or baking, or babysitting Nyx.

Which, thinking of her nephew, he was bound to be causing a fuss with his mother right about now, who as Elain knew was currently communicating via missive with some delegate of the Human Lands. Despite herself, she entertained the thought of if whether her sister was writing to Lucien, and then immediately chastised herself for thinking so even though she didn’t know why.

Absently cleaning away errant clippings and debris of the patch of pansy’s she’d been tending to, Elain tucked them away into her basket along with her sheers and trowel. Standing, she straightened the skirts of her dress that was fashioned out of a used males tunic and brushed her soiled hands against the gardening apron she wore.

Collecting her things, she mindlessly stored her belongings away into the little nook shed off to the side of the deck, and proceeded on into the kitchen through the backdoor.

Cerridwen was already there, kneading some dough upon the counter.

Elain smiled softly at her friend, then looked around seemingly noticing the absence of her sister.

“Nuala’s tending to the princeling while your sister is finishing off some paperwork.” Cerri answered, before she could even ask. “Also, her High Lady told me to inform you that she will be leaving for her studio soon to deal with some matters.”

“Of course,” She murmured, squashing the oily sensation of shame that crept its way through her chest. “I’ll just go freshen up a bit, I think.”

She left but not before extending the offer to Cerridwen should she need any assistance, moving out from the kitchen and up the stairs to her room with the intention of the washing off the grime that had collected during her time outside.

Perhaps a cool bath would do, Elain thought.

Walking past Feyre’s painting studio, she couldn’t help but peer through the door to check on her sister. All manners of equipment lay strewn throughout the room, hazardously scattered amongst any piece of furniture it sought purchase.

Brushes lining easels, canvases upon tins of paint. It was all very chaotic—very Feyre.

As if in a summons to her thoughts, her youngest sister turned her head up at her presence and smiled brightly. She was wearing midnight blue coveralls and underneath a white tunic splattered with all sorts of coloured paints.

“Come in,” Feyre insisted,

Patting the vacant spot next to her at her work table, Elain ambled over and sat down beside her sister. There was ink and a quill laid on the space, along with errant pieces of parchment indicating that she was still very much busy.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to interrupt you,” Elain said apologetically, casting a smile over at her sister. “I just wanted to make sure you were okay, and if there was anything I could help you with?”

Feyre shook her head, waving an errant hand. “I’m not busy, I was just finishing off some last minute missives before I headed over to the studio. Which if you weren’t doing anything, you’re more than welcome to join me, if you wish?”

From the way her sister was smiling at her, Elain thought that there was perhaps other ulterior motives behind them merely visiting the Rainbow’s artist quarter. Storing her speculations away in the recesses of her mind, she agreed to accompany Feyre after bathing and changing quickly.

Elain just hoped that freshening up wouldn’t be attempting to do so in vain, only to be swept up in the firing line of paints, water or any other substances that would likely require her to shower again.

[unwinthehart]

Mahmood for "Il Venerdì" di Repubblica (14.10.2022)

MILAN. He looks at (Marcello) Mastroianni's portrait, dressed in white, at seaside, on the cover of the first "Venerdì di Repubblica", October 1987.

"I would like to go back in time, to understand how it was back then. In 35 years everything's changed, really everything. At that time a singer, an actor, a song, a movie lasted years."  [...]

He knows well that success, even if flaming, can be such a fleeting thing: "A song lasts two months; every four (months) there's a new 'phenomenon'. Everything is a lot less romantic," he says while fans surround him for a selfie in a cafè (his sweatshirt and dark sunglasses didn't work as a disguise).

"I try not to sacrifice the magic, not giving in to this robotic mechanism.

[...]The feeling is that nowadays people want to do this job just as a mean to appear. We're prisoners in a mechanism that doesn't allow us any truce, that doesn't concede us any time."

Mahmood tries to deal with success in a smart way. On the "coming out" he put a definite word ages ago: "(coming out) is done by people who hid until that moment, I've always been this way [he didn't hide anything]."

He converses with his fans through his socials, every day. He encouraged them, with his passport and electoral card, to show up at polling booths. "Then it went how it went," he grumbles. "But we live in democracy, it's fair. I thought: you need to reach the lowest point to rise up again. Because it can't get worse than this? Can it? Oh my god, how many votes did (she) get? How many people even from the LGBT+ community voted for her?" [...]

"Mahmood" the docu-movie is an intimate portrait, the tale of his life between Milan and Egypt, lingering very little on his international success, zero images of his "celebrity life" [...]

"It didn't make sense, putting that stuff in," he explains. "It's something that came afterwards, with time. Fashion didn't actively contribute to my formation, it's just a consequence of success - by the way, tomorrow I have to go to other fashion shows, Paris Fashion Week. Then I must get away from all of that, I'm getting too distracted..."

Q: What did you want to say with this docu-movie?

M: How everything started, how that seed got planted in my mind, a passion that became an obsession... more... always more...a frenzy...

I looked for music schools by myself, checking on Google. The only feasible one was in Baggio, an hour and a half away from my home in Milan, hard to reach with public transportation - me, a kid, all by myself, thrice a week. But it was my reason to live. I wanted to show that (in the movie). And then my relationship with my family, crucial, and with my friends. On socials and on tv that doesn't get through. Perhaps even in the movie itself it's an incomplete aspect, but at least you can get an idea of how I grew up.

Q: You talk about how, as a kid, you used to get away from reality: "I had beautiful, amazing day dreams..."

M: I lived in a parallel world. Sometimes I couldn't even follow other people's conversations. It's hinted in a scene, shot by my mother in pre-school: "Ale look here." I turn, look at her, but actually I can't see her, I'm somewhere else. It still happens to me sometimes. Every once in a while I separate myself; it's a self-defense mechanism that connects me with other worlds, where I can picture what I really imagine and think about. Just like younger Ale. When I was a kid it was a storage room, now it's songs.

Q: The storage room?

M: Exactly! I used to lock myself in the storage room, a room without windows; on the door I had hung a drawing with the word "Podilandia". My mother every once in a while checked on me: "Are you hungry?". Inside there I had built my castles, I connected them all with strings. I thought they were real. I put everyone to bed when I was getting out, I covered them with a fake bed sheet, made of tissues. Crazy, for real! Every once in a while I opened the door, to check if everything was in order, if maybe instead of sleeping they were making a mess.

Q: Later on you'd harshly blame yourself for that: refusal of reality as a form of being selfish.

M: Selfish is a strong word, protection more likely. I felt good in my own company, my mind could rest.

Q: You grew up dealing with a sort of self-anlysis that in the end was productive.

M: When I was a kid I wasn't aware of that, it's something I've understood once I was an adult. I just wanted to protect myself, my mom took care of the rest...

Q:...she is a crucial character in this documentary.

M: She's actually the protagonist, extremely good, spontaneous, beautiful. I'd never have expected her to be so herself in front of cameras. She can't lie, if she tells you something - in the movie as in life -, she does so reliving that moment with complete emotional involvement. She relates 100% with the story, then she stops herself or gets too emotional when the memory gets too personal or too deep. I would like, some day, to be just as spontenous. I'm working on it.

Q: Were you able to confide in her when you were a kid? Was she more of a mother or a friend?

M: Noooo, friend?  Mother 100%. That form of confidence comes later, in my case around the time I was 22. Mine was a long adolescence, I had a repulsion towards adulthood, I wanted my privacy, my space. As long as you depend on your mother, you cannot get on her same level.

Q: After the first achievements, listening to your songs your mother says "He looked content, but maybe he wasn't truly."

M: I was, actually. I created my own worlds not because I wanted to be content, but because I was content. I can't remember any sad moment in my childhood. All thanks to a perfect mother. It's just normal that in the beginning she considered my dream a waste of energy and money, she was just scared I'd get hurt.

Q: Has she ever let you on the anxiety and stress your father's abandonment must have caused her?

M: Never. When he came to take me for the weekend she, -even if worried -, let me go quietly. Twice, in summer, when I was 8 and 12 she let me go to Egypt, even though my uncles begged her not to [...]

Q: What do you remember about those trips in Egypt?

M: I would have preferred staying home, playing with my cousins. Or going to Orosei, like every Summer. But at Cairo I had a great time, I got to know my cousins and aunts, I got to visit amazing places. We would go home and lay mats to pray in the Mecca's direction, then they would force me to drink some disgusting mango smoothies. We would on the Nile on a boat, - dinner and a some belly dance show -, on the Red Sea, in the desert on a camel or a horse. My father had a beautiful girlfriend, Asma. She would take me around the City, in cafés: in the beginning I didn't really like her, she was too proud and haughty, but then we became friends.

During the second trip I got to know my little brother, - I have a sister, too, born later on.

My father, too, was really handsome, now he's got a bit heavier. A ladies man, lots of charisma, always happy, always with a smile, someone who can charm people.

Q: You were five when your father went away. Was that the starting point of your insecurities?

M: It was like nothing had happened to be honest, even if any time I say that, it sounds weird. Mom took me to a therapist, that confirmed I wasn't suffering from any issue. Then my father, during the time he stayed in Milan, came to get me every weekend. Did I detach myself to protect myself? I don't know. But even there, it was all thanks to my mother: he really put her through a lot! but she never said anything bad about him! she never told me anything! She sacrificied her entire life to work and raise me. And sometimes I feel guilty about that.

Q: Soldi, that surpassed 500 million streams and 100 million views on youtube, is a song directed to your father, almost like you wanted to get the attention of that absent parent that only called to ask for money.

M: I didn't write that to get even (with him), I was just telling something, stream of consciusness, the self-analysis we were talking about earlier, live those situations again while singing about them, withouth a reason, without malice. I wished he'd never listened to it.

Q: And instead?

M: He listened to it, indeed! He didn't take that well. He even threatened me to go on television to tell his version of it.

Q: How's your relationship now?

M: I haven't heard from him in a long time...

Q: You, aware or not, have a certain melody in your voice, that's similar to that middle eastern music, that was pretty evident during that Sabri Aleel performance at Notte della Taranta, a lot slower and dreamier version of an egyptian dance song.

M: My father, in the car, even here in Milan, made me listen to his favorite singers. I didn't like them, I used to tell him: "Come on, dad, switch it up!" they sounded all the same. Today, listening to them again, I get so emotional, same it happened with Sabri Aleel. My arabic pronunciation is anything but good, I asked for help to anyone I know, including my barber Aziz and my cousin's egyptian friend.

Q: Insecurity is a fixed point in your movie. When you were already singing songs likely to get successful, you'd say: "I'm embarrassed doing this!" where 'this' is, in fact, songs.

M: Oh my god, yes, I should have cut that scene. But yeah, they were bad songs, like "La notte ti adora", the first one they gave me to sing, when I still didn't write, so trashy [he sings it acapella, he's so good].

But I had to understand how to start and where I was headed. Look, I tried everything. The last thing I wanted was to go back making Cappuccini.

Q: Mamma Anna says: "He never talked about his pain, I found everything out through songs."

M: Being able to only write about the truth was a work that took at least two years. At the beginning I wrote sort of "cover" lyrics to muddy the waters, not to actually show myself. When I started doing that, even she was surprised.

Q: The X Factor elimination (then he was pulled in again), in 2012 must have been hard for the both of you.

M: The saddest and hardest thing in my life. I was 18, I had never cried that much, and then the following week I had my high school graduation, - tears fell on my books... I thought: maybe it's not meant to be. It was the 40th door closed in my face. I went back working in my cousin's café, 6am to 12pm, so I had the free afternoon to go to CPM, the music school. There I started writing songs, starting again as the worst in my class.

Q: Lots of doors closed, but also lots of success in a really crowded moment in the pop music.

M: 4th at Sanremo Giovani, with "Dimentica" (2016) at 25. The prior Summer, from Sardinia, I signed up for Area Sanremo: I paid for the train ticket and B&B myself, and I slept on the couch because the two friends I took with me from Milan, slept on the bed; I attended Ivano Fossati and Mauro Pagani classes; it was the time I was obsessed with song writers, after binging on Stevie Wonder, Ray Charles and Fugees. Carmen Consoli had just published "L'abitudine di Tornare", an album that meant a lot to me.

After many hardships and labels that pushed me into listening to the radio more, to understand in what direction I should go, I started writing for others. The first, "Nero Bali" for Michele Bravi, Elodie & Gué Pequeno, then "Hola" for Mengoni and right after my first successful songs, like "Gioventù Bruciata" that won Sanremo Giovani in 2018. "Soldi", born around that time, stayed in the drawer. Luckily: it was the song that won the Festival the following year.

Same thing happened with "Brividi": like I hadn't the faintest idea I'd go back to Sanremo, with Blanco and win again! I thought after "Soldi" I could only do worse.

[...] Q: The usual insecurity...

M: ... less chronic starting from this Summer. There's been a change, I'm forcing myself to be more positive. During these past few years lots of good things happened to me, but I always put myself down. I've decided to be more calm, now. It's an effort I have to make. Family lesson: feet on the ground, less expectations you have, less painful the fall will be. And it's not just about music, also low blows from your friends... well, let's not talk about that... I'm learning to prioritize the really important things.

Q: You might not even have had time for that. Do you manage to keep your private and public life in balance?

M: Yesterday I got some good news: they'll give me a bit of time to write. When you can't do it anymore, you need to ask for help. It's what I did. I was losing my eyebrows due to stress from my third tour and Sanremo and Eurovision, I pushed myself too hard...

But it's understandable, I'm young, I still have lot to do. But writing requires quiet, and I need to travel, take some time for myself.

Q: The flat in the skyscraper in Milan that burnt in 2021 Summer: another low blow.

M: It was my first rented house [now he's bought one], first time away from my mother, first little parties with friends... I'd been living there for a year...so traumatic... I truly went to therapy at that point. I had the feeling that everything I had built had collapsed in a night: I went back to mom. It was like starting back again. And you have no idea how difficult it was finding a new place: we don't rent to artists, you're too loud.

Q: The impression, watching the documentary, is that you live in a pain that you're not able to push away and with which, with some resignation, you live together.

M: Inside every one of us there's some pain, always. Without it, life would just be a pretense. It's important to know it and save it, I need it to grow up and react. I don't want to erase it, - just live and learn to manage it, that pain."

[juniperjellyfish]

Welp, my dog died of a heart attack while I was out of town camping. I’ll probably be less active this coming week

I wanted to put up some pictures of him too, so here he is:

This was the day we got Charlie. He was soooo itty bitty, he actually fit on my lap. We originally named him Trigger, but changed it to Charlie after my great grandpa because it fit better. We were about to get a different dog from his litter, but me, being the oldest child, managed to gang my siblings up against my parents and convinced them to get the other one, which we had for about 5/6 years.

This was from when we just moved from northern Utah to Southern Utah, Charlie looooooved to share a bed with me

I don’t remember when this was from, but no matter how big he got, Charlie loved to cuddle with people. This is him and my two little sisters

This one is from just a few months ago, we brought the dogs inside and Charlie immediately ran and jumped into my sister’s bed which scared her, my brother, and me into a fit of laughter. You can even see my little dog Percy, wondering what on earth Charlie is doing.

My last (and favorite photo) is of Charlie and Benelli. We had just barely gotten Charlie and were worried that he and benelli wouldn’t get along because she was two years older than him and had been the only pet in the household that entire time, but they got along perfectly and were instant friends. They fell asleep together and make the shape of a heart. Through so many new pets joining our family, the two remained best friends until the very end.

Charlie was the dumb blonde of our pets and was always doing something so stupid, you had to love him for it. I remember when we had just brought him home, we were playing fetch and Charlie went chasing after the ball. However, when he grabbed it, he immediately sat down (on the tile floor) and slid into the back door from the momentum.

He used to be so scared of stairs, that when my aunt tried to carry him up them, he peed all over her. In fact, Charlie peed everywhere. If he got excited, you had to rush to get him outside before he peed all over the floor.

There was several times in the night where I’d wake up with a gasp because Charlie jumped onto my bed and tried to fall asleep on my stomach. Mind you, he was 70-80 pounds most of his life. He was notorious for stealing my blankets.

We have nicknames for our three dogs, Tweedledumb, Tweedledumber, and Tweedledumbest. Charlie was obviously Tweedledumbest. It’s kind of funny how Charlie handled the introduction of Percy to our family. Char had been the baby dog for four years, so when we got Percy, a tiny mini golden doodle who could be carried everywhere, Charlie got extremely jealous, because Percy was stealing his cuddles. He even sat on Percy one time. Eventually, the two got over themselves and became friends too.

[angelily-vine]

Nevermore's Starlight

Wednesday Fanfic x OC (Aria Amor)

A/N -- First posting any of my writing!! Kinda nervous. I also wrote this like two months ago. Anywho, I hope you all enjoy! Please don't be too mean with any criticism...

And a special shoutout to @daydream-cement who unknowingly gave me the courage to post this💞 (does this count as an anon reveal??)

Also, there are a few words that are in Tagalog. Anak means daughter, son, or child and Nay means mother/mom! And this is set in the year 1987.

Summary: It's the start of the new school year and Aria isn't too thrilled about it. Her first night at Nevermore was no less than odd. At least, in her opinion.

“The First Day of the First Year”

“Oh, Nevermore, how I’ve missed you so!” My mother gasps, engulfed by nostalgia as we enter the gates of the cynical school.

“Now, anak, are you ready to attend the utmost prestigious school for outcasts?” 

I give her a stare. There wasn’t a need for her to ask, already knowing what I felt about attending the renowned school. My mother sighs in defeat at the failed attempt to converse. 

William parks the car at the entrance and walked out to open our doors. 

“Thank you, dear.”

We walk into the school, greeted by a woman with honey-brown skin, wearing a black top paired with a pencil skirt, and her hair in a half-do. She towers over my mother with what’s meant to be a welcoming smile. My mother returned the smile.

“Welcome to Nevermore Academy. I am principal Ramos,” She turns, motioning her hand toward a table. “That is where you will pick up your schedule. Each grade has a stack, all you need to do is find the schedule with your name on it. And afterward, you may ask any faculty or student for any assistance to find where you need to go.”

My mother and I walk up to the table. As she finds my schedule, I look around.

There are numerous people everywhere, all sorts of them. Parents, new upcoming students, students returning for another year, or alumni. A wide variety of outcasts all in one place. From a werewolf to a siren, or a witch to a shapeshifter. This school was considerably more diverse than my last. I’ll give it that.

Once my nay found my schedule, which wasn’t very hard, as our last name is Amor, we were on our way toward the dorms. 

As we walked through the hallways, turning on corners, and walking up a number of stairs, she told me her stories of when she was a student at Nevermore. 

She would always talk about her time here as it is the best part of her life, aside from when she got married and when she adopted my siblings and me. She usually says that it’s the best because of all the crazy experiences she had here and all of the activities and festivities she participated in. Nonetheless, the true reason behind her love for her time at Nevermore was that this was where she met my father, Angelo. 

They were the high school sweethearts that everyone was rooting for, so there was no surprise when they announced their engagement at their sixth annual reunion. 

Mama would always love to tell me their love story. They met on the first day of Freshman year, and they bonded over the fact that they were both Filipino. Connecting over the fact that they hadn’t met anyone with the same ethnic background beforehand. That was also how they became friends with my biological parents. 

Ironic. Four full Filipinos in one place, same grade, first time seeing another Filipino in their area.

After what seemed like a multitude of narratives, we arrive at Ophelia Hall, alongside a small group of other students and parents. 

There, we are greeted by another woman with very voluminous, curly hair and a cheeky smile. 

“Hello, hello! My name is Maia Caddel. You may call me Ms.Caddel. I will be your dorm mom! On this table is a chart showing which dorm you’re assigned to.”

Aria Amor – Dorm 240

Upon arriving at the dorm, my mother gets teary-eyed.

“Mama,” I say, not particularly in the mood to put up with her sappiness.

“I know, I know. Wait until after I get in the car.” She mutters, taking a deep breath as I open the doors.

The room is relatively large, with an extensive window, the light hitting the wooden walls and floor.  In it was a blonde girl who appeared to be unpacking boxes and bags with her bed already made.

“Hi!” She welcomes us with a cheery smile.

“Why, hello!” My mother replies with a smile, placing down my luggage.

I turn to my mother and she turns to me.

“I suppose you wish for me to leave now.” I nod.

My mother smiled softly at me and placed a hand on my cheek, kissing my forehead.

“I hope you the best here, anak. I’ll see you soon, okay?” She whispers as she pulls away from me, cupping my face. “I love you.”

Mentally, I say it back. Physically, I nod.

As my mama walks away, I turn back to the room and the blonde.

“I suppose you’re my roommate.” 

She hummed in response, placing down her lamp and walking up to me.

“My name is Lillian,” She greets herself, reaching her hand out for a handshake. “It’s lovely to meet you, roomie!”

I stare at her hand and then look back up at her. 

“I’m guessing that you aren’t the outgoing type.” She mumbled embarrassingly, her cheeks turning red, looking down.

“My name is Aria Amor. It’s pleasant to meet you.”

I don’t find meeting people pleasant at all, but my mother made me promise to at least make a good first impression on my roommate.

Lillian looks up at me, and a smile graces her lips. I look back at my luggage and boxes and begin to unpack. Lillian went back to the other side of the room to continue her unpacking. 

It didn’t take very long to unload and settle my things down my side of the room. 

First, I began by making my bed and setting up my desk. Afterward, I hung up my clothes in the closet, sorted my shoes on the shoe rack, and left my empty boxes and luggage inside. The last thing I did was set down my toiletries and put up wall decorations, just a few posters, and my Chinese money plant. The final embellishment is the crystal vase I placed at my desk to fill with flowers sooner or later.

Lillian had finished unpacking before I did and was lying on her bed, reading a magazine. When I finalized unpacking, she sat up and looked at me inquisitively.

“What,” I say, continuing to organize my books with my back turned to her.

“Nothing.” 

I sigh and shift to look at her, crossing my arms.

For a moment, we just stare at each other in silence. Surprisingly, I was the one to break the silence.

“Do you know when we’ll be shown where our classes are?” Lillian smiles at the endeavor of conversation.

“It’ll be on August 16, on Sunday. So, tomorrow.”

“So, are we meant to stay cooped up here for the rest of the day?”

“Yes, and no.” Lillian changes her position on the bed, laying on her side and resting her head on her hand. “We’re supposed to go down to the quad for dinner at six.”

I look at the clock on my bedside table to see that it’s only three.

“Do you wanna go and explore the school with me to fill in for the time?” 

“No thanks.” 

I sat in my desk chair and turn on my computer.

“What are you doing on there?” She asks.

“Writing.”

“Writing what?”

“A novel.”

Lillian gasps in curiosity and excitement.

“That’s cool! What’s it about?”

“Murder.”

“Oh.”

I’m guessing she was a bit taken aback by the topic because there was yet another juncture of stillness between us. 

“That’s sweet!”

“Mhm.”

As time passed, I was able to finish an additional two and a half chapters of my novel. Lillian passed time by singing and prettying herself up for dinner. 

“Are you not going to get ready for dinner?” She shouted from her bathroom.

There wasn’t much I was going to do. Just a diminutive wardrobe change into another casual, knee-length, black dress.

I glance at the time and see that it is already five-forty. Sighing, I get up from my desk and shut down my computer. 

After putting on my dress, I brush out my hair and put on a black headband, leaving my curtain bangs out. Topping off my look, I put on my favorite pair of diamond earrings. 

All of this merely took about ten minutes. Perhaps less than that. 

“Are you attempting to fabricate some sort of potion in there or something? It’s been an hour and a half, yet you still aren’t finished.” I call out while I sit and wait for her on the edge of my bed.

“Well, first of all, I am not a witch. I am a werewolf. Second of all, we are having dinner with the entire school tonight. I want to make a good impression.” She sighs, “Physically at least.” 

And with that, we spent the remaining time we had before leaving for dinner in silence. The only sound you could hear were the sounds of my typing and Lillian’s humming as she finished up with her hair. 

I would never admit it, but I am rather content with who my roommate is. She doesn’t talk my ears off and the silence between us is comforting. The constant silence was relatively odd, however. I’m quite used to the loud noises and disturbances from my two younger siblings, Talia and Joshua. 

Just as I was finishing up the last sentence of my third chapter, there was a knock on the door.

“Come now, girls. It’s time for dinner!” Ms. Caddel calls for us with excitement.

As we arrived at the school quad, there were long tables around the square. Some held the meals and others were for us students and teachers to eat at. There were so many of us, some had to move in the picnic tables and chairs. The delicious aroma of all kinds of foods surrounded us.

While in line for the food, a student I had seen before caught my eye. Her hair was as white as snow, pinned up in a sophisticated coif, and she wore a minimalist dress. She also towered over a few other students. She seemed my height, maybe about 5’10. 

She was quite stunning.

Her smile only added to her beauty. 

“Aria,” I guess I had been staring a bit longer than anticipated, seeing as the line moved up a bit and I hadn’t realized. 

Lillian smirked as she put a few grapes on her second plate.

“Who is it you’re looking at?” She asked slyly.

“No one of your concern.”

Lillian continues to look around the quad while we walk up to a table with other members from Ophelia hall. I’m guessing she found her target when a pleased smile appeared on her olive-toned face. 

“Is it the pretty white girl with the muted yellow dress and pinned-up hair?” She asked with pride.

That was rather descriptive.

“It is!” She squealed, sitting down at the table next to me. 

I turn to look at her with a straight face, mentally telling her that the reaction was unnecessary and chafing.

She giggled and muttered a ‘sorry’ before she chowed down on her food. And just as I was about to do so myself, the particular white-haired girl sat in front of me, along with a raven-haired girl taking the seat beside her. She smiled and gave a quiet ‘hello’ before she began to eat, her companion who was dressed in all black, gave a simple smile.

I genuinely believe that my heart skipped a beat. 

No reason as to why, though.

Lillian gave me a side-eye paired with a smirk and continued on with her meal. 

“Welcome and welcome back to Nevermore Academy!” Principal Ramos announces over a mic with a bright smile. The students and staff members applaud and cheer. 

“Before I allow you all to continue to feast, I have a few announcements to make,” She clears her throat before continuing. 

“First off, for our new coming outcasts, we will have upperclassmen show you your way around the school and your class schedules tomorrow afternoon. All students are permitted to wander around campus throughout the day to pass time. Unless you are permitted to, you may not set foot off campus or near Crackstone’s crypt. Secondly, clubs will begin on the second week of school, so please utilize that time to decide which extracurriculars you wish to join. And lastly, on behalf of the school faculty and myself, I wish you all the best year and hope that you enjoy your time here at Nevermore Academy.”

Once again, there was a big applause and several students were hollering in celebration of the new school year.  Once they all calmed down, everyone went straight to discussing their new plans, telling their new stories, and sharing gossip throughout their meal. 

For most of the dinner, I silently ate my meal while Lillian talked to me about her plans for the new school year, as did the others around us. Lillian also made a few acquaintances throughout the meal.

I couldn’t help but steal a few glances up at the two girls who sat in front of me. They were very stunning, and their voices were smooth and profound. I could honestly listen to them talk and whisper for hours to no end.

“I saw a flute case resting by your desk,” Lillian concedes, catching my attention, and unknowingly catching their attention, “Are you joining the school’s band, or is it just for your own enjoyment?”

I think about it for a bit. My mother did tell me about how great Nevermore’s band was.

“Possibly.”

“You should. I bet you’re an excellent flutist!” She pauses for a moment. “That’s a word right?”

A small chuckle comes from the white-haired girl and a small smile creeps onto my face.

“Yes, dear, it is a word,” I reply, not looking up from my food.

“Oh, good.” Lillian sighs in relief. “That would’ve been incredibly embarrassing if it wasn’t.”

Throughout the rest of our time at dinner, the white-haired girl and Lillian talked on numerous subjects. From what classes they were excited to attend to their entire life goals. Meanwhile, the raven-haired girl and I stayed predominantly silent and content, only butting in when asked a question or had a comment on something.

When we all returned to our dorms, Lillian wouldn’t stop smirking at me.

“What is it this time, Lillian?” I questioned, irritated.

“I saw the little sneak peeks you made at them.” She hummed, closing the door behind her.

I rolled my eyes at her.

“If you’re gay, I totally support you.”

“Excuse me?” I blurt, a bit taken aback by the sudden statement.

“They’re hot.”

“Lillian.”

“Yes, dear?” 

“Shut. Up.” 

“So you are gay!”

“Lillian.” She laughed and flopped onto her bed, hugging one of her many stuffed animals.

“I’m only joking. I wouldn’t assume someone’s sexuality or preferences just by the way they look at someone. That would be disrespectful. Either way, I don’t care if you’re gay or not or how you present yourself.”

I walk into my closet and close the doors to change into my sleepwear. For a moment, there was a peaceful quiet.

“Are you actually-”

“Lillian.” She laughs again.

“Alright, alright, I’ll stop.”

Before finally settling down for a good night’s rest, I stop and scrutinize myself through the bathroom mirror. Looking down at the heart-shaped locket resting between my collarbones.

“Whatever you do, under no circumstance, must you ever take this locket off. Do you hear me, anak?” My mother says in a stern yet soft voice as she clasped the necklace around my neck.

“Yes ma’am.”

The memory of when my mother gave me the locket and the story behind it brought a strange feeling of nostalgia and discomfort. The feeling caused me to involuntarily fidget with the necklace.

I stretch my neck side to side as I sit on the edge of my bed, taking a few deep breaths in. Consumed by relief, I lay down and tuck myself in, hugging a pillow as I drift asleep.

[martian-writes]

They Fell in Love in October

Emi Through Katsuki's and Izuku's eyes.

Chapter 5: Epilogue

"Kacchan hurry up" Izuku yells

"I'm hurrying!" Katsuki yells back

They were late. Not unusual for them but they really did want to be on time. They promised Emi they would be, but here they are.

Running late.

"KATSUKI BAKUGO" Izuku yells sternly

Beside Izuku their children giggles, Izuku glances at them. A little girl and boy

The girl age four and the boy age 8. They had children through a surrogate, they had found a medical procedure that was able to combine both Katsuki's DNA and Izuku's. These babies are 100% theirs. The surrogate was in a sense just an incubator, she is lovely woman, Katsuki called her kinky.

She liked being a surrogate because she liked being pregnant; she just didnt want to have to raise the babies herself.

"See. Kinky" Katsuki said after she explained.

Anyways she helps them have two beautiful children.

Emiko or Emi for short (Yes they did name their kid after their best friend shut up she has done so much for them). Emiko is a spitting of image of Katsuki, blonde hair, red sharp eyes. The only difference is freckles dust her cheeks. While she may look like Katsuki, she is Izuku all the way, kind, sweet and senstive.

Itsuki the boy (yes they did the clichè combining their names thing leave them alone) copy and paste of Izuku, minus the freckles attitude? Full on Katsuki Bakugo. He is Katsuki's karma for being a brat as child and he swears it. Because Itsuki is /only/ sweet to one of his parents and while it's not Katsuki, he is a sour patch kid really.

When the couple were discussing starting a family, Emi had offered to be their surrogate. Hitoshi was fine with it and while couple was more than happy that Emi had offered.

They couldn't ask that of her, she had done so much for them already. Had it not been for Emi the pair knew for sure they wouldn't be here today. Emi has been nothing but their greatest supporter and defender.

They could never repay her.

Plus Emi had just had little Benji that would have been too much to ask of her.

"Auntie Emi is gonna be disappointed Papa!" Emiko yells

"I'm coming you brat!" Katsuki yells back running down the stairs holding a small box wrapped perfectly "I found it!"

As Katsuki walks toward his husband and kids, he trips. On what? Itsuki's skateboard is strategically placed in the middle of the room.

See? Katsuki's karama.

Itsuki cannot hold his laughter, hunching over and clutching his sides

"YOU SHOULD HAVE SEEN YOUR FACE OLD MAN" He shrieks

"Suki!" Izuku says sternly causing the boy to stand up straight "I thought I told you to put your board away?"

Itsuki swallows and nods, quickly scrambling to grab the board and put in a less harmful place. Izuku doesn't even have to say Itsuki runs to his father and hugs him.

"Sorry papa," he mutters.

See? Sour patch kid.

Katsiki ruffles his son's hair "it's fine".

For a brief moment the family forgets that they have someplace to be.

"WE GOTTA GO!" Izuku yells in a panic "oh goodness how does Emi /even/ deal with us"

Bless her heart.

"She has been for /years/ now it'd be pointless to get rid if us now" Katsuki replies

Again.

Bless her heart.

Seriously.

She watched them be gay disasters for months. MONTHS. Before they actually got their shit together and got together.

She was there for their first big fight and reminded them why they loved each other so much to start with.

She was there when Katsuki drunkenly proposed and Izuku threw up on him from nerves and too much to drink.

Emi was there when Katsuki did it right and when Izuku cried yes.

Emi was there all through the wedding planning, through Izuku's tears when the planning became too much.

Emi was the one who gave Izuku away because his dad refused to come and his mom passed years ago.

Emi was there when Itsuki was born and  when Emiko was too.

Emi is there when they need help. She is such a big part of their lives, where would they be without her?

"In a ditch, dead probably" Hitoshi would say.

And he isn't even wrong.

Katsuki and Izuku are disasters.

They owe Emi. And how do they repay her? By being late to her anniversary party, some best friends they are.

They are supposed to be there on time because it's like a whole nother wedding just smaller.

Izuku is Hitoshi's best man and Katsuki is Emi's man of honor and these idiots are late. All because Katsuki misplaced their gift for the couple.

Technically it's not a gift, Hitoshi wanted to give Emi a custom ring for their anniversary. He commissioned Katsuki's company to make it. See he is going to ask her to marry him again.

Izuku cried when Hitoshi told them and Katsuki would take it to his grave but as he designed the ring he teared up.

The little family makes it to the venue as soon as they step foot into the place their kids run off to say hi to everyone. Hitoshi appears out of nowhere scaring Izuku half to death

"Where the hell have you two been?" He questions

"Blame Kacchan" Izuku says

"Oi! Not just me your damn brats too"

Izuku laughs "oh now they're mine?"

Hitosho rolls his eyes before leaning closer "Do you have the /goods/?"

"This aint a drug deal" Katsuki scoffs "But of-fucking- course i do"

Katsuki digs into his pocket pulling out a black velvet box. Hitoshi takes the box as if he drops it and the box and what's inside will break.

Hitoshi shakely opens the box, inside is a silver ring encrusted with aquamarine gems and in the center of the ring a blue topaz diamond. On the inside of the ring is their original marriage date.

Hitoshi wanted the ring to represent their children because they are products of their love. Aquamarine for Benji and blue topaz for Shoji.

Hitoshi looks up and his dark purple eyes are wet with tears

"Thankyou" he breathes "Its beauitful Katsuki"

Katsuki shrugs with his ears turning pink "It was nothing" Katsuki looks toward where Emi is squatting down talking to Emiko and Itsuki. "Anything for her"

There's fondness in his voice and love that will never die. Katsuki still loves Emi and he always will, it's a different type of love though. He knows that he'd do anything for her in the same way she would for him.

Hitoshi pockets the rings just as Emi makes her way over.

"Finally! You guys would be late to your own funeral I swear!" She laughs

Izuku pulls her into a tight hug and kisses her temple "Kacchan's fault him and his gremlins"

"Hah??? My gremlins???" Katsuki shouts pulling his husband off his best friend "Get off her. She is /my/ best friend yours is right there"

Katsuki nods toward Hitoshi before engulfing Emi in a really tight hug. Katsuki hugged her as if he hadn't seen her in years, he always hugs her like that. It started the night he admitted he was in love with Izuku.

Sometimes Katsuki cant believe that was so long ago, sometimes it feels like yesterday.

Emi pats Katsuki back and laughs "Please stop calling my angels of a niece and nephew gremlins"

Katsuki scoffs "You don't even know what Itsuki did to me before we left"

"No I know" she laughs "Emiko told me. You need to pay attention. Itsuki could have lost his skateboard"

Katsuki gapes at his best friend "You are fucking enabler you know that?"

Emi gives a cheeky grin hugging Hitoshi's arm "I plead the fifth".

Katsuki does a 'tch' and the four enter the rest of the party. They mingle and say hello to everyone, including their adorable nephews Benji and Shoji.

The pair were perfect mixes if their parents, Benji has Hitoshi deep purple eyes which contrast well with his silver hair that he got from Emi. Benji is a tired boy much like his father while his little brother is a ball of energy like his mother with lavender hair and light gray eyes.

Don't let their cuteness fool you, they are menaces to society and for whatever the reason maybe Katsuki is their number one victim of torument. They band together with their leader Itsuki and plot Katsuki's downfall.

"I get bullied by children" Katsuki would say after falling victim to their pranks.

Katsuki and Izuku sit down tiredly after dancing around. Emi and Hitoshi are the only ones on the dance floor, slowly swaying together. Izuku lays his head on Katsuki's shoulder with a small smile on his face.

"I love them" Izuku whispers and Katsuki smiles and looks down at his husband

"Me too," He replies.

Izuku and Katsuki are happy that their best friends found happiness and love in eachother. They are happy that they get to bear witness the purest forms of love, up close and personal.

Hitoshi gets on one knee and holds open the box

"Emi, my angel, will you do me the honor of marrying me again?"

While to Emi Katsuki and Izuku are her otp, she and Hitoshi are their goals.

Because a love like theirs is a love everyone wants to have.

End~l