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requiemforthepoets · 2 months

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they never took me quite where you do 𖦹 LN4

PAIRINGS: lando norris x heiress!reader

SUMMARY: all your life, you’ve been used to peace and quiet, not until you had to substitute for your father and brother in a business meeting and throwing you in the most busiest and crowded event.

AUTHOR’S NOTE: this has been stuck in my drafts, i decided to post this one since i’m clearing my docs. this one’s bit lengthy, but i hope you’ll vibe with it. uni had already started for me, so i won’t be able to post much :’( anyways, i hope you’ll enjoy reading this one!

REMINDER: this is purely fiction, the way how the character is portrayed in my story does not reflect to the person that is portraying my character in real life. always separate fiction from reality, and do not repost or copy my work in any way.

WORD COUNT: 6.4k

WARNINGS: zak brown and mclaren

MIAMI

You never liked crowded events. It is not in your nature to seek out noise and chaos, you prefer the calm serenity of your family’s estate or the quiet corners of your favorite library. But alas, here you were, you found yourself being in attendance at the 2024 Miami Grand Prix. Your father and older brother were supposed to attend the business meeting, a formality given your family’s substantial sponsorship of McLaren, but with both of them indisposed, the duty had fell upon you.

As you stepped into the bustling paddock, you couldn’t help but feel slightly overwhelmed by the energy and excitement that filled the air, you also saw a few celebrities but you couldn’t care less. To be honest, you never really liked Miami. You had a few share of travelling around the world, but you just don’t get other people when they say that Miami is a great place, you just couldn’t see it. However, people are entitled to their own opinion, and that is your own personal opinion. Looking around and comparing yourself from the race goers, you can clearly tell that you’re the odd one out, all dressed in neutral colors when you are being surrounded by lively colors.

“Miss Auerbach, welcome!” Zak Brown the CEO of McLaren had greeted you warmly. “I’m glad that you could make it.” You smiled and shook his hand.

Prior to arriving in the venue, you had managed to study the whole team behind McLaren as a preparation for the business meeting, and not make a fool of yourself. Last thing you would want to do is embarrass your father and brother.

“Thank you for the warm welcome, Mr. Brown. It’s a pleasure to be here,” you replied politely, “I apologize that my father and Theo couldn’t make it. They had prior commitments that can’t be rescheduled.” You added.

“Please, just call me Zak, and it’s alright. It’s wonderful to see you getting involved into the family business.” Both of you laughed, but you held back a little bit. Zak had noticed your hesitation and smiled kindly, “I know this might not be your usual environment, but why don’t you stay and watch the race? I think you’ll find it quite exhilarating.” You just nodded.

Maybe this isn’t exactly your comfort zone, but sooner or later you’ll grow more accustomed to it. You need a bit of excitement in your life, and maybe this is finally it.

After the meeting with Zak, you decided to walk around the area, get some air and explore a little bit. The exclusive paddock area offered a slight reprieve from the crowd, and you navigated through the space, trying to maintain a semblance of composure, a familiar voice called out for you.

“What on earth are you doing here?” Turning around, you saw Charles and Carlos approaching, their face lit up with a surprise. They were unmistakable with their bright red Ferrari gears and ever-present charisma. “Hello to you too.” You greeted while giving each of them a hug and attempting to mask your discomfort from the buzzing crowd. “You wouldn’t normally find me in this place, but I’m officially on business duties.”

Charles is one of your brother’s best friend, how did they met? You never know, all you know is that your brother is a big fan of motorsport and one day, the two of them just became best friends. As for Carlos, the Sainz and Auerbach are a close family friend for almost a decade, your father and Carlos Sainz Sr. go way back. So you’re glad that you know at least two people in the event.

Carlos chuckled. “Never really thought that I’d see the day you’d attend a grand prix willingly.” You laughed, “well, let’s just say that it wasn’t voluntary.” You admitted, a hint of smile breaking through. Charles nodded understandingly, “come on, let’s find a quieter spot. You look like you could use a break.”

Grateful, you followed them to a more secluded area within the paddock. As you talked, the initial awkwardness melted away and had been replaced by the comfort of familiar company. You discussed various things about family, recent travels, and, inevitably, racing.

“You know, your father always speak so highly of you,” Charles said, with Carlos agreeing with him. “It’s finally nice to see you at one of these events.”

“I have to admit,” you said, glancing around, “this place has a certain charm. Maybe it’s not all bad.” Carlos just laughed. “That’s the spirit. But hey, the race is starting soon. You should stay and watch, you might actually enjoy it.”

“Are you flying back to Germany right after the race?” Charles had asked, as you pondered. Mentally checking your schedule and agendas while you’re here in Miami. “I think so? I’m not sure, it depends with McLaren.”

“Why don’t we all go to dinner later tonight? I’m sure Rebecca and Alex would love to see you again as well.” Carlos offered. “Sure, I would really love that! Just text me the time and place, I’ll be there.” You smiled.

After the meeting with Charles and Carlos, you head to the VIP area for McLaren and found a seat that offered a perfect vantage point to watch the race. The anticipation was palpable as the cars began to line up, engines revving, and you can see the fans in the grandstands all decked out in colorful team merchandise, waving flags and cheering passionately for the teams that they are rooting for. In no time, you found yourself leaning forward, eyes with excitement.

The moment that the lights went out, cars shot forward on the track, a blur of color and motion passed in front of you. You could feel the ground vibrate beneath your feet as they sped past, leaving you breathless. Amidst all of this, one car in particular had managed to caught your attention, the sleek orange McLaren with the number 4 on it.

You turned your attention on the screen, Lando Norris. Reading it softly, familiarizing the name as it rolled smoothly off your tongue. You had also heard his name countless of time, often through Theo who admired his driving style. But seeing Lando in action was different. His precision, determination—it was really mesmerizing.

Each lap brought new excitement, the cars jostling for position, and as the race progressed, you couldn’t help but be drawn into the excitement. Lando’s skill was undeniable, and you found yourself silently rooting for him. When he executed a particularly daring move, you involuntarily gasped, earning a few amused glances from nearby spectators.

When the checkered flag waved, Lando had crossed fhe finish line in first place, followed by Max Verstappen from Red Bull in second place, and then in third place was Charles. You suddenly felt a strange thrill as you watched the McLaren team celebrated Lando’s win. After the event was finished, you had decided to walk around the paddock once more, and drop by at the Ferrari garage to congratulate Charles and Carlos, not forgetting to drop by at McLaren as well to also extend your congratulations to Zak, as it was another win for the team.

As luck would have it, you crossed paths with Lando himself. He was talking to a group of mechanics, still buzzing with the adrenaline. Seeing your opportunity, you decide approached him.

“Congratulations on winning the Miami GP.” You said, trying to sound casual. Lando turned, his eyes brightening with a friendly smile. “Thanks! Glad you enjoyed the race.”

“I did. It’s my first time at a Grand Prix, actually. Quite an experience.” Lando smiled, “first time, huh? Well, I’m honored you got to see me in action. What brings you here?”

“Family business,” you replied. “Ah, that explains why I had seen you with Zak earlier. Well, I hope this won’t be your first and last race. It’s always nice to see new faces around here.”

You smiled, feeling unexpectedly at ease. “Maybe it won’t be. You might have just made a new fan today.” Lando laughed. “I’ll take that as another win. See you around?”

“Definitely,” you said, feeling a spark of excitement at the idea of seeing him again.

As you left the paddock, you realized that maybe, just maybe, crowded events weren’t so bad after all. Especially when they came with such unexpected, pleasant surprises. It’s too soon to say that you were charmed by Lando, but you can’t help but admit it that you are indeed had been charmed by him.

Later that evening, you found yourself at a cozy restaurant with Charles, Carlos, Alex, and Rebecca. Being close with Charles and Carlos, you had became close as well with their girlfriends. It was rare for you to have new friends due to your status, but meeting Alex and Rebecca was such a breath of fresh air.

“So, how does it feel to be a grand prix veteran now?” Rebecca teased as you sipped your wine. “Hardly a veteran,” you laughed, “but I have to admit, it was more enjoyable than I expected.”

“It’s about time we got you out of your shell,” Alex had said with a wink. “We’ve been waiting for an excuse to hangout more.” This has caused the whole table to laugh.

“And a little birdie told me as well,” Carlos chimed in, a bit of teasing in his voice, “you’ve been seen talking to Lando right after the race.” He wiggled his eyebrows at you, and the girls began teasing you.

“Come on now, it was a harmless conversation. I just congratulated him. My family sponsors the team, what am I to do? Ignore him?” You laughed, “not when you’re all smiley and looking all heart eyes at him.” Charles said and laughed.

“But hey, Lando’s a great guy. If ever you two end up dating, he’ll treat you right and not to mention you two looked really good together.” Carlos said as he smiled.

The conversation flowed easily, filled with a bit of teasing, stories, laughter, and plans for future gatherings. Charles and Carlos shared a few anecdotes from racing, while Alex and Rebecca had catched you up with their recent travel adventures. You found yourself thoroughly enjoying the night, feeling more connected with them after not seeing them for how many months.

As the night wound down, you gently grabbed your bag and pull out four elegant invitations. “Before I forget, I would like to give this to you.” You handed the invitations to each of them, with their names beautifully written on the envelope. “Mamá will be having the annual Auerbach charity event, and she tasked me to give the invitations out to you.”

The event will be held five months from now, but as always, your mother wanted to be very prepared and for the event to run smoothly with no distractions. They had thanked you for the invite, and once the dinner had concluded, each of them gave you a hug.

“Thank you so much for a wonderful evening, guys. I really appreciate it.” You said. “Of course! We should do this every once in a while.” Alex said as both her and Rebecca hugged you again.

“Don’t be a stranger, okay? If you need anything, just call us.” Carlos smiled. “We’ll see you at the next race, okay? We’ll be expecting you there!” Charles added and you nod at him.

“Alright, alright. You’ll see me in the next race, maybe or maybe not!” You teased. “I’ll see you all in Germany for the event, okay?” They nodded.

The following day, you attended the post-race festivities, it was another obligation that you couldn’t avoid. But this time, the atmosphere was different, Lando’s words from yesterday had you in excitement, and maybe, you were excited to see Lando as well.

You had found yourself mingling with other sponsors and team members. Glancing across the venue, you caught sight of Lando, engaged in a conversation with Oscar, which you had met as well yesterday during the event. He looked up, meeting your gaze unexpectedly, and offered a smile, a genuine smile. This has caused your face to flush, hoping that he didn’t see the way how your face turned all red. After that little incident, you turned your attention back to the people you’re talking with.

As the event wore on, the sun was already setting, casting a golden glow over the venue, you were hoping that at least you would get to talk to Lando, and soon enough, you found yourself once again face to face with Lando.

“Hey, you’re back,” he greeted, his grin being infectious. “I am. I thought I’d see what all the fuss is about after the race.”

“Smart choice. This is where the real fun happens,” Lando said, nodding towards the lively crowd. You found yourself laughing, the sound even surprising yourself. “You were incredible out there. I can see why Theo admires you.”

“Theodore Auerbach?” Lando asked, his eyebrows raising. “Theo as in your brother?“

You nodded, “yes, that Theo. He’s a fan, always talks about your races, despite being best friends with Charles and Carlos.” This had cause Lando to laugh, “wow, that’s really great to hear. Tell him I said thanks.”

“I will.” You smiled.

You and Lando found yourselves in deep conversation. He shared a few stories about his racing career and telling you things about racing—he was slowly getting you accustomed. You then found yourself opening up about your family, your hesitations about joining the family business, and unexpected enjoyment of the grand prix.

“You know,” Lando said thoughtfully, “it’s refreshing talking to someone outside the usual racing circle. You have a unique perspective.”

“I’ve enjoyed it too,” you admitted. “This whole experience has been…enlightening.”

“Good. Then it’s a win-win,” Lando said, his eyes twinkling with mischief. “Maybe we can convince you to come to more races. We could use another Auerbach fan.”

“I think you just might.” You smiled, feeling a warm spread through you, and your stomach feeling butterflies.

The celebration had ended after an hour, you and Lando had exchanged contacts, promising to keep in touch. He had also walked you back to your hotel, which was surprisingly just near the venue. You reflected on how much had changed in just a couple of days—stepping out of your comfortzone and embracing a new experience.

MONACO

It has been two months since the Miami Grand Prix, and exactly two months since you and Lando met. It was a whirlwind of change in what felt like the blink of an eye, what started as a chance meeting with Lando had evolved into something deeper, something neither of you had anticipated. Despite the distance and the demands of your respective worlds, you and Lando had fallen into a comfortable rhythm, finding solace and comfort in each other’s company.

It has been mutually agreed to keep your relationship under the wraps. For Lando, it was about preserving his focus and privacy in the high-pressure world of F1. While for you, it was about easing into this new reality without scrutiny that came with dating a well-known public figure. It’s not that you aren’t well known, it’s just that even if everyone basically knew your family and prestige, you still value that little ounce of privacy left in you. The clandestine nature of your relationship added an element of excitement, turning every stolen moment into something precious.

Today, you were in Monaco, it was your monthly overseas trip. It’s just a plan that you had made back then, where you would travel once a month and explore new places. This month, you had chosen Monaco, which is a unusual for your parents, but they just let you be, since they know that you travel outside of Germany once a month. You were staying with Lando at his apartment in Monaco, wanting to spend some time with him before the next race. His apartment has the stunning view of the Mediterranean, and was comfortably private, away from prying eyes.

Lando arrived in the late afternoon, after spending the whole morning attending different meetings. When he entered the apartment, his face lit up with a smile that never failed to make your heart skip a beat.

“Hey you,” he said, pulling you into a warm embrace. “Hey yourself,” you replied, resting your head against his chest. “How was your meetings?” You added.

“Tiring, but good. I’m glad to be here now,” he said, kissing the top of your head. “I missed you. You are all I’m thinking about during the meeting.”

You laughed as you booped his nose gently, “I missed you too,” you said, tilting your face up to kiss him softly.

You spent the evening with just lounging on the couch, savoring the rare moments of normalcy. Since you were both lazy to cook dinner, you just decided to order food, watch a movie, and talked about everything and nothing. It was in these quiet moments that you felt most at ease, the outside world and its demands melting away.

As the night grew late, you found yourselves on the balcony, looking out at the glittering lights of Monaco. Lando was stood behind you, his arms wrapped around your waist, as his chin is resting on your shoulder.

“It’s beautiful here,” you said softly. “It is, but not as beautiful as you.” You laughed, nudging him playfully.

“You’re such a charmer, aren’t you.”

“Only for you,” he said, turning you around to face him. “I mean it. These moments…they mean everything to me.”

“I know,” you said, cupping his face in your hands. “And I feel the same. But…are you sure we’re doing the right thing by keeping this a secret?”

Lando sighed, his eyes searching yours. “I think so. At least for now. The media, the fans…it can be overwhelming. I want us to have this time, just for us, without all the noise. I want to savor this privacy that we still have.”

“I understand,” you said, leaning into him. “I just hope it doesn’t always have to be this way.”

“It won’t,” he promised. “When the time is right, we’ll tell the world. But for now, let’s just enjoy what we have.”

The following morning, you woke up to the sound of your phone buzzing. It was a text from Charles.

charles [7:30 AM] : Heard you’re in Monaco. breakfast at the café near the harbor? Alex and I are back in town, would love to catch up.

You smiled, texting back a quick confirmation. Turning to Lando, who was still asleep beside, you gently nudge him awake.

“Hey, sleepyhead,” you whispered, kissing him softly on the lips, “Charles and Alex are back in town and want to meet for breakfast. You up for it?”

Lando groaned softly, rubbing his eyes. “Do we have to?” He whined, pulling you and now you’re resting on top of him, “come on, it’ll be fun. I haven’t seen them in months, please.” You said, kissing his cheek.

He chuckled, “alright, but only because you asked nicely.” It took you both a couple of minutes before you got up and start preparing.

The café was bustling with activity, a favorite spot for locals and tourists alike. Lando had told you to go in first to avoid suspicions from other people that were in the café who knew the two of you. When you entered the café, you spotted Charles and Alex at the table, in a private area, away from people that would recognize the the four of you. She wave over with an enthusiastic smile.

“Good morning!” Alex greeted, hugging you warmly. “It’s so good to see you!”

“You too,” you said, taking a seat. “I must say, this place is very lovely.”

Charles nodded, grinning. “It’s one of our favorites. So, how’s everything going?”

“Good,” you replied, glancing at Lando, who was making his way to the table. “Really good, actually.”

As you all caught up, Charles and Alex shared their latest rendezvous in Italy, and you shared your time in Monaco in exchange. The conversation flowed easily, filled with nothing but laughter. It was comforting to have friends who understood the situation and could offer support and normalcy in your otherwise secretive life.

Alex leaned in, a knowing smile on her face. “So, any new developments?” You exchanged a glance with Lando, who smiled back at you. “We’re doing well. Just taking it one day at a time.”

“Glad to hear it,” Charles said. “You two deserve to be happy, and don’t worry—your secret is safe with us.”

“Thank you,” you said, feeling a wave of relief. “It’s really means a lot.”

“We always got your back, don’t worry okay?” Alex assured you.

As the breakfast came to an end, you said your goodbyes to Charles and Alex, promising to catch up again soon. With a final hug, they left, leaving you and Lando alone once more.

As you both returned to his apartment, you turned to him with a smiled. “I’ve been thinking…” you plopped down on the couch, as he follows, pulling you towards him with your head resting on his chest, “oh, do tell.”

“How would you like to be my date in my family’s charity event next month?” Lando looked at you, his heart skipping a beat. “What do you mean?”

“I mean, we’ve been doing this for a while now, and it feels like the right time to introduce you to my family, you know.” You said, eyes filled with determination. Lando smiled back at you, feeling a sense of excitement and hope. “Okay. I’m ready for that, as long as you’re by my side.”

“I love you.” You whispered as you looked up at him. “I love you more.” He leaned in and kissed you softly on the lips.

You spent the rest of the day cuddling and just talking about anything, as you look over the balcony, the sun was already setting over Monaco, casting a golden glow over the harbor, feeling a deep sense of contentment. You were really looking forward to next month, where you would finally introduce him to your family.

GERMANY

Your family was a portrait of old-world elegance and influence, steeped in the traditions and wealth of your Spanish-German heritage. The Auerbach were known for their vast estates, historical manors, and lineage that could be traced back to European nobility. Your family owned vineyards in Spain’s Rioja region and estates in the Black Forest of Germany, and wealth built on generations of careful investments and preservation of the family legacy.

Conrad Auerbach, your father, was a formidable presence, and he still is. A man who commanded respect with his mere presence. A former diplomat and now a prominent businessman, your father had instilled in you a sense of discipline and the importance of maintaining the family’s dignity. Despite his stern exterior, he has always harbored a deep pride in your achievements, even if he rarely showed it openly.

Isabella Alcaraz Auerbach, your mother, was the epitome of grace and sophistication. A former equestrian and painter of Spanish descent, she brought a touch of artistic flair to the otherwise rigid Auerbach household. She was known for her charitable work and passion for the arts, often hosting grand soirees that drew the elite from all over Europe. Your mother is your confidante, your best friend, and the one who understand your fierce independence and quietly supported you in your dreams.

While your oldest brother, Theodore, was destined to take over the family business. He thrived in the structured world of finance and estate management, embodying the family’s traditional values. He’s a carbon copy of your father, and sometimes act like your father, but you two grew up being really close to each other.

The Auerbach family was not without its quirk. Despite the formal exterior that your family possesses, dinner conversations are actually more lively, filled with fun debates over art, politics, sports, and the latest global affairs. Your sharp wit is always a match for your father’s intellect, and your mother’s charm made the Auerbach gatherings a blend of intellectual rigor and cultured sophistication.

The Auerbach charity event was a cornerstone of your family’s social calendar—a grand affair that combined philanthropy with high society’s glittering presence. This year, the event was particularly special; not only was it a chance to support a cause that is close to your heart, but it was also an opportunity to formally introduce Lando officially to your family and close friends. You had been planning everything for weeks, ensuring that everything goes smoothly.

This year’s charity event is being held in your family’s ancestral home in Bavaria. In a sprawling castle that had been in the family for centuries. It was a place of both grandeur and solitude, wherein during your childhood, you would always find peace despite the hectic flow of your life. The castle’s halls were adorned in portraits of ancestors, a reminder of the legacy you carry and expectations that is placed upon your shoulders, will full understanding of the pressures that comes with your family.

As the event approaches, you were a bundle of nerves and excitement. The polo match where you will be partaking in was set to be the highlight of the evening, a thrilling competition that showcased both skill and elegance. It has been a year since you last played polo, so you had been practicing really hard, determined to make good impression, but you know very well that tonight’s real challenge was introducing Lando to your whole family.

It was finally the evening of the event, you wore a stunning customized gown that was both elegant and understated, which has been tailored solely for you. It was paired with classic accessories that complimented the whole look. While Lando was dressed in a tailored suit that fit him perfectly and colors matching you. He looked every bit the part of a gentleman, his nerves evident despite his calm demeanor.

As you arrived, the sight of the lavish decorations and the elegantly dressed guests filled you with sense of pride and anticipation. The estate, with its sprawling lawns and opulent ballroom, was the perfect setting for the festivities. You and Lando were greeted by your family, who were all abuzz with excitement. Your father, a towering figure of influence and authority, extended a warm handshake to Lando.

“It’s pleasure to finally meet you, Lando. I’ve heard a lot about you.” You can see that your father is completely sizing him up. You know very well that your father knows him, but everything had to be done in formalities.

“The pleasure is mine, Mr. Auerbach,” Lando said, offering a respectful nod. “Thank you for having me.”

Your mother, ever elegant as always, gave you a knwoing smile before turning her attention to Lando.

“We’re delighted to have you here. I’m sure you’re going to enjoy the event.”

The guests mingled and enjoyed cocktails over by the terrace. Charles, Alex, Carlos, and Rebecca had finally arrived, looking impeccable and ready to enjoy the festivities. They greeted both you and Lando warmly, clearly excited about the event.

“Hey you two!” Rebecca said, giving you a hug. “You both are looking fantastic!”

“Thank you so much, Rebecca,” you said smiling, “I’m glad that you could all make it.”

Carlos gave Lando a friendly pat on the back. “Looking sharp, cabron! Ready for the polo match? It’s always the highlight of the infamous Auerbach charity events.” Lando grinned, “definitely. I’ve been looking forward to it.”

Charles and Alex joined in on the conversation, and soon the group was chatting easily, making Lando feel more at ease. Everyone has been assuring him, helping Lando settle his nerves, reminding himself that the genuine warmth from your family was reassuring.

You had been called by your mother’s assistant and excused yourself from the group, as the time for the polo match drew near, still need a couple of minutes to change to your polo gear. All of them had wished you good luck, with Lando softly pecking your lips as an added good luck.

Everyone was gathered near the field, seated on their assigned table with the best view of the polo game. Lando watched from the sidelines with the rest of your friends, his support evident as he cheered on you whenever you score a point. The match was thrilling to say the least, which every swing of your mallet and every goals that you had managed to score elicited cheers from the spectators. The crowd’s energy was infectious, and you felt a rush of adrenaline as you played.

Throughout the polo match, you caught glimpses of Lando, who was clearly enjoying himself and cheering loudly with the rest of your friends. His sole presence had given you an extra boost, and able to let you play with a newfound confidence. The game was a close one, but you had managed to clutch it and lead your team to victory the last minute before the final whistle blowing to cheers and applause.

After the match, you quickly cleaned up and changed back into your gown and joined Lando with the rest at the post-game reception, where the celebrations were in full swing. The evening continued with dinner, speeches, and silent auction, all aimed at raising funds for charity. During the dinner, you were tasked to make a speech as it was expected of you and thank all of the guests for coming to the event, you also took this opportunity to make a heartfelt announcement.

You stood up from the table where you were seated and made your way to the stage, happily accompanied by Lando. As your mother, father, and older brother are already waiting for you by the side of the stage.

“Ladies and gentlemen, on behalf of my family, I would like to extend our heartfelt gratitude to each and everyone of you for being here tonight. Your presence means the world to us and to the countless individuals who will benefit from your generosity.” Everyone was clapping, causing you to pause midway and continuing. “I also want to introduce someone very someone very special to me—Lando Norris. We’ve been together for a while now, and I’m proud to have him here with us tonight.”

The room buzzed with surprise and curiosity, but the warmth and acceptance from your family and friends were immediate. It was also a full declaration to let everyone know, specially those who were vying for your attention or hand in marriage as you mother would put it and wanted to be with you for the sake of the connections you have in business that you, the youngest Auerbach, is very much in love and happily taken.

Lando was standing with your family, smiling proudly and touched by the gesture. Despite coming from a very traditional family, your father and mother does not pressure you into marrying a person that you don’t like, like some other families would push their children to do. They are very supportive in finding a suitable partner of your own choice.

“Thank you,” Lando said the moment you went back to him right after you ended the speech. “It means a lot to me to be here tonight and to be welcomed so warmly.”

The reaction from your family was genuine acceptance and warmth. Your father offered a heartfelt smile and a congratulatory handshake to Lando.

“I can see why you’ve been so happy. You’ve got a good one here.” He said to you and pulling Lando into a brief hug, “don’t even think of breaking my daughter’s heart.” Your father joked, causing all of you to laugh but you know that there’s a little sense of threat in his voice.

Your mother’s eyes was glistening with pride, and reached out to Lando. “Welcome to the family, Lando. We’re so pleased to have you with us.” Engulfing him in a hug, “now I’ll be expecting you to be attending every family gatherings from now on!” You smiled.

“Who would’ve thought that our youngest Auerbach will be able to bag one of the famous and talented racing driver in formula 1!” Theo exclaimed happily, “it’s great to finally meet you outside of the racing circle, Lando.” Clapping Lando on the back. “You’re officially part of the family now, hope you can keep up with all of us!” He added.

Going back to the table, Charles, Carlos, Alex, and Rebecca were clearly delighted by the announcement, offering their congratulations, even if they had already known about your relationship with Lando, but it still felt good being congratulated by them. Also there had been a few friendly threats that had been made by Charles and Carlos, a threat which both of them would be capable of doing so without any care for the FIA.

As the evening continued, Lando fit seamlessly into the crowd, engaging in different conversations and sharing laughs with everyone. The event was a big success, funds that had been raised exceeded expectations, and your family’s acceptance to your newfound relationship with Lando had made the evening even more special for you.

You found yourself hanging out by the terrace by yourself, watching the party from afar and enjoying the quiet end to a memorable evening. Turning your attention towards the vast fields, where the moon was shining beautifully together with the stars, when you suddenly felt a presence behind you, engulfing you in a hug, immediately knowing who those arms belonged to.

“That went better than I could have hoped for,” you said, leaning into Lando. “Thank you for being so incredible tonight, and being here with me.”

Lando kissed your forehead gently. “It was an amazing night, to be honest. I’m really glad that your family welcomed me with open arms.” You turned to face him, hands on his nape and caressing his lovely curls. “It mean everything to me. Tonight was more than just a charity event—it was the beginning of something new for us, and it was perfect.”

He gently leaned towards you, connecting your foreheads together, soon enough you both found yourselves softly kissing each other. You broke the kiss and looked at him softly, he leaned down again stealing a few kisses, and peppering you with kisses all over your face, causing both of you to giggle.

“Do you want to go walk around the estate? I have yet to give you a tour, but we can do that tomorrow.” You said as he nodded.

When you left the ballroom, the event was already winding down. You decided to take off your heels as Lando grabbed it, clutching it on his other hand and the other was intertwined with your hand, walking comfortably barefoot on the grass. Soon enough, you were walking hand in hand through the estate, savoring the peaceful end to a significant evening.

The introduction to your family and friends had been a milestone, making a new chapter in your relationship where your love was celebrated and cherished. The future was bright, and together, you were ready to embrace whatever comes next.

MALLORCA

The Mediterranean sun cast a warm glow over the stunning island of Mallorca, where you and Lando decided to take a much needed break after the stressful Belgian Grand Prix, and you had made a few rules during the vacation, where it is strictly no talking about the race or any race in prticular, since you are here to unwind and have fun. You’ve got three weeks with him as you are hell bent on spending every second of it with Lando.

The trip was more than just a getaway, it was an another big step for both of you. It had been decided that you both are ready to take the next step—you were ready to make your relationship public, a decision that you both had mulled over carefully. With the support of your families, who were joining you on the island for a joint vacation, you felt that it was the right moment to share your happiness with the world.

Mallorca’s breathtaking landscapes provided the perfect backdrop and the crystal-clear water are looking so majestic across the horizon. The charming villas that your family owns has set the stage for a trip that was both picturesque and intimate. This joint family vacations had been considered as a tradition for both of your families, so all of you were pretty much excited about the vacation and the idea of relaxation and joy.

The sun was beginning to set, casting a golden hue over the island, so you and Lando decided to stroll along the beach. Hand in hand, you walked slowly, savoring the moment and the beauty of the surroundings. The beach was relatively quiet, with only a few other tourists scattered around, which gave you both the privacy you needed before breaking the internet with your posts.

With the backdrop of the sun dipping below the horizon, you and Lando decided to pose for a series of photos. In each shot, you were close, sharing smiles and laughter that spoke volumes, the affection that you both have for each other is genuine. You both decided to post it together, and once the post was already up, you immediately closed the instagram app and turned off your phone. The post was already enough, and now it’s time to enjoy the remaining days of the Mallorca trip, and maybe hop onto another trip with, just the two of you.

The trip continued with a sense of lightness and freedom. With the world now aware of your relationship, you and lando were able to enjoy each other’s company without the weight of secrecy, not to mention the excitement that you felt when you realize that you’ll be able to freely spend time with each other in public without any restraints. The vacatiom continued on, filled with never ending laughter, shared experiences, and deep connections with both your families.

On the final day of your trip, you and Lando were sat down on a yacht. You were leaning on him and watching the sun set in the Mallorcan sky, feeling both a sense of contentment and excitement for the future.

“It feels so good to finally share this with everyone,” Lando said, his hand resting gently on your waist and caressing it gently.

“I couldn’t agree more,” you replied, looking up to him, to find out that he was already looking at you. “It’s a new beginning for us, and I’m beyond happy to have you by my side.” He smiled at you, gently leaning and kissing you softly.

You stood up from the seat and removed your see through robe that was covering your bikini, “tag, you’re it. Catch me when you can!” Tagging him right on the chest and jumping off the yacht.

“Oh it’s on, sweetheart!” He laughed, following quickly right after you and jumping off the water.

It was a perfect ending to a perfect week, with your families around you, sharing in the joy of your relationship and the beauty of the island, it was clear that this trip had been more than just a vacation—it was a celebration of love, new beginnings, and the support of those who mattered most.

landonorris

liked by ynauerbach, carlossainz55, maxfewtrell and 2,475,834 others

tagged: ynauerbach

landonorris i once believed love would be black and white, but it’s golden ❤️

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ynauerbach i love you so much 🥺❤️ now pls come back and cuddle me, i miss you ♡ liked by landonorris

landonorris i love you more and i’m on my way as we speak!! 🏃🏻💨 ♡ liked by ynauerbach

carlossainz55 finally. congratulations to you two! you know very well what will happen if you break her heart, cabron. so don’t even think about it 😁 ♡ liked by landonorris

landonorris HEY…i know 😞

charles_leclerc FIA be damned, but congrats you two love birds 😍😍😍😍😍 ♡ liked by landonorris

username1 hoLD AWN 🤚🏻

username2 god, i’ve seen what you’ve done to others. when will it me my turn 💔

mclaren our papaya queen! 🧡 ♡ liked by landonorris

oscarpiastri how little lando norris bagged THE youngest auerbach, we will never know. but hey, congrats! ♡ liked by landonorris

landonorris what can i say, i have god tier charms. a definite rizz god if i say so myself 😎

oscarpiastri highly debatable, but ok. you do you mate

oscarpiastri also lily wants to do a double date, she told me to tell you

username3 wait…auerbach??? THE auerbachs??? THE Y/N AUERBACH????

username4 lando is dating the youngest and only daughter of the auerbachs 🥹

username5 OUH THE POWER THAT THIS COUPLE HOLDS IS INSANE

username6 HES ON HIS LOVER ERA AND IM HERE FOR IT

alex_albon congrats mate! ♡ liked by landonorris

landonorris thanks mate!

maxfewtrell finally. you can’t stop yapping about her 24/7 ever since you two talked for the first time back in miami ♡ liked by landonorris

landonorris stop exposing me here SHHH

ynauerbach oh???? don’t worry, it’s kinda cute hehe

landonorris 🥰🥰🥰🥰

maxfewtrell simp

username7 MIAMI?! THAT WAS LIKE MONTHS AGO OMG SO UR TELLING ME THAT THEY HAD ALREADY BEEN DATING SINCE MIAMI GP?! 🥹

username8 i’m impressed they were able to keep everything private

twitter posts

ynauerbach

liked by landonorris, alexandrasaintmleux, iamrebeccad and 674,738 others

tagged: landonorris

ynauerbach and all at once, you are the one i have been waiting for. king of my heart, body and soul 💘

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landonorris and all at once, you’re all i want, i’ll never let you go, queen of my heart ❤️ ♡ liked by ynauerbach

ynauerbach hnwshsh I LOVE YOU 😩🥺❤️ ♡ liked by landonorris

charles_leclerc 😍😍😍😍 ♡ liked by ynauerbach

alexandrasaintmleux FINALLY! the ship has sailed (it’s been sailing for a long time but whatever!) ♡ liked by ynauerbach

username9 BABE WAKE UP!! NEW LANDO SUMMER PIC JUST DROPPED

username10 EVERYBODY SAY THANK YOU Y/N FOR THE NEW LANDO SUMMER PIC

iamrebeccad triple date soon!! ♡ liked by ynauerbach

theo.auerbach Don’t forget about the family dinner tomorrow. Be there or be square. ♡ liked by ynauerbach

ynauerbach I KNOOW. ‘Be there of be square’…what are you? A ten year old? 😭😭😭

username11 the lyrics change in lando’s comment to match y/n’s caption 🥹❤️

username12 and they say chivalry is dead…

username13 hold on tight girlies, we’re gonna be FED with lando and y/n content this summer break 🤩

isabellaalcarazauerbach My babies! You two are very very cute, mi vida. I cannot wait to see you both again soon! ♡ liked by ynauerbach

ynauerbach thanks, mom!! i love you and i’ll see you very soon 💘 ♡ liked by isabellaalcarazauercbach

ynauerbach ouh, we’ll see you tomorrow for the family dinner 🤩 ♡ liked by isabellaalcarazauerbach

username14 MY PARENTS

username15 YNLANDO STANS AND SHOOTERS ALL RISE!!

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impishjesters · 11 months

Text

Pomni, Kinger, Caine & Jax's reaction to their s/o abstracting

warning(s): angst, hurt no comfort, self-blame, "death" of the reader, implied "death"/abstraction of another character (spoiler: Kinger), hopeful outcome note(s): There's nothing incredibly heavy or detailed, just tread carefully if "death" is something you are sensitive to, please. The "hopeful outcome" implies that Caine will at some point in time be able to fix those who've abstracted. A/N: I was feeling particularly cruel and wanted to write some angst, this came to mind and I'll be honest. I made myself a little sad.

Pomni

She never saw it coming, of course, you were acting different lately but she didn’t think it would… lead to you abstracting…

It took forever for things to get some semblance of normalcy, and you being with her was a major part of it.

Sure the relationship in a place like this was a bit, weird, but you cared about her, and she cared about you.

You kept her sane and grounded, so when you were found abstracted? It felt like she failed you.

Ragatha tries to assure her that you aren’t completely gone. Like Kaufmo you’re being kept in the cellar. Caine claims the abstracted are being kept there until he can find a way to “fix” them. (Whether he’s genuine or not though, none of them know.)

It’s all empty promises though, she still feels like she failed you.

Kinger

Not again…

Kinger silently promised himself not again, he was fine being friendly with everyone else that fell into the circus, but he had no intentions of being more than that.

But then you happened, and while he was still in shambles from the time and the insanity spent here, you were there beside him. Like a knight in shining armor.

He hadn’t been around when you abstracted, in fact, he didn’t know you abstracted until there was yelling, and boom an abstraction was causing chaos.

Kinger didn’t know who it was until it was sent off to the cellar, actually, he didn’t know who it was until he realized everyone was present except you.

There’s a high probability that losing someone again, losing you, is what ends up being his own downfall. The other’s (not including Jax) try their all to get him to calm down but it’s not enough, it’s too late…

Caine

Of all the humans to be pulled in he never once got attached.

This was never supposed to happen, he’s incapable of love.

Caine does his best to keep the humans from abstracting, and as many eyes as he has over the place, there are always ones that slip through his grasp.

Of course, he’s not around when you abstract, it takes a bunch of hooting and hollering from everyone before he shows up and oh hey an abstraction.

At an immediate glance, he knows it’s you, abstractions never remotely look like the person they were before but he knows it’s you. You don’t recognize him as you lash out, of course you don’t, you can’t.

He’s unsure about tossing you with the others in the cellar, there’s nowhere else he can truthfully keep you without causing problems. So into the cellar, you go.

Caine visits you though, not for long but he does check in on you. Not that anything changes, but out of all the abstractions down there, he knows exactly which one is you.

You’ll be the first human he fixes as soon as he’s able to.

Jax

His s/o abstracted? Nice joke, though it’s in poor taste. You’re completely fine, he just saw you earlier.

Jax doesn’t believe it until he sees it, and seeing it absolutely ruins him. He’s seen countless others get abstracted and thrown into the cellar, but why, why does it have to be you?

Why couldn’t it have been literally anyone else? He didn’t give a shit about anyone else, the one person he cared for, and you…

Similarly to Pomni, he feels it’s his fault like he could’ve, no should’ve done more. Was he so wrapped up in everything else that he didn’t notice the signs? Why didn’t you talk to him? You didn’t, didn’t do that on purpose, did you?

For the first time ever, the others are genuinely worried about Jax, they all saw/know how much you meant to him. The two of you even spoke fondly about what the two of you would do if you got out of the circus.

For a while Jax becomes even more irrational and unhinged, they try not to hold it against him too badly, even when he oversteps. He’s grieving and none of them know just how long that’ll go on.

Jax isn’t quite the same afterward, but he makes sure that nobody else tries to worm their way into his heart.

If it’s possible, he’ll make sure Caine fixes you the second he’s able to. Even if Caine can fix only one person, it’s going to be you.

#the amazing digital circus #the amazing digital circus x reader #tadc jax #tadc #jax x reader #jax #tadc pomni #tadc caine #tadc kinger #pomni x reader #caine x reader #kinger x reader #kinger #caine #pomni

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emotionaldamages · 9 months

Text

coffee shop- lando norris

summary- lando decides to take time away from f1 talks and goes to a coffee shop where he meets someone

pairings- lando norris x nurse student!reader

authors note- not sure how to feel about this one but hopefully you enjoy

Lando Norris, had always lived life on the edge, pushing boundaries as he sped around racetracks as an F1 driver for McLaren.

Y/N, a nursing student with a heart full of compassion and eyes shining with determination, always had a knack for finding beauty in the simplest of moments.

Their paths had never crossed, until one cool, crisp autumn day, fate intervened and brought them together.

It was in the bustling city of London where their story continued. Y/N, her mind preoccupied with the pressures of exams and the weight of her dreams, sought solace in a small café tucked away on a quaint side street.

As she walked inside, the delicious aroma of freshly brewed coffee enveloped her senses, instantly soothing her racing thoughts. With a sigh, she found a cozy corner table, hoping the calming atmosphere would provide some respite from the chaos of her daily life.

Meanwhile, not far away, Lando had escaped the whirlwind world of racing for a few precious moments of peace. Dressed in casual attire, he craved some semblance of normalcy away from the never-ending attention that came with being a celebrated athlete.

With curiosity guiding him, Lando stumbled into the same café, his eyes scanning the room for a sign of familiarity amidst the sea of faces. And there, in the corner, his gaze locked onto Y/N, captivated by the gentle grace that radiated from her.

An inexplicable force drew them closer, as if the universe had conspired to bring them together. Lando, his heart pounding, walked over to her table, his confidence masking the nervous flutter in his chest.

"Mind if I join you?" he asked, his voice laced with a charming undertone.

Y/N, startled yet intrigued, gestured for him to take a seat. And so, as they sat across from each other, a connection sparked between them, like an invisible thread weaving its way into their souls.

Conversations flowed effortlessly, as if they had known each other for a lifetime. Lando shared stories of his adrenaline-fueled races, igniting Y/N's passion for adventure, while she painted vivid pictures of her experiences caring for others, igniting a flame of empathy within Lando's heart.

They laughed, they pondered, and they shared secret dreams that they had never dared to voice aloud before. The hours slipped away, unnoticed, as the world around them faded into the background, leaving only the enchanting dance of their words.

Little did they know, their chance encounter in that cozy café would be the beginning of a love story that would defy all expectations, transcending the boundaries of their individual worlds.

As the sun dipped below the horizon, casting hues of orange and pink across the sky, Lando and Y/N realized that fate had brought them together for a reason. And as they left the café, hand in hand, hope soared within their hearts, for they knew their journey had only just begun.

#formula one imagine #f1 one shot #landonorris #lando norris x you #lando norris x y/n #lando norris x reader #formula one #f1 x reader #f1 x female reader #f1 x y/n #f1 x you

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slytherinslut0 · 11 months

Text

MATTHEO RIDDLE- Beg For Me

Chapter Sixteen-Info: You and Mattheo have been butting heads for months, since you were assigned as his tutor, and one day during a session full of tense bickering, he has enough.

(This will essentially be a toxic book where we are Theos fucktoy. No love here, very minimal fluff.)

Tags: 18+, Jealousy, Angst, Possessive Behaviours, Syltherin!Boys, asshole!Berkshire, Kissing, Threats Of Violence, Weaponizing!TomRiddle, Dirty Talk.

****FIND THE REST OF THE CHAPTERS HERE.

As darkness shrouded the castle on the overly-anticipated Saturday evening, Tom guided you into the lively heart of the Slytherin common room, a space pulsating with carefree energy and laughter. Students adorned in their finest attire swirled around you, their faces flushed with excitement, their voices mingling in a chorus of revelry. The air crackled with the tang of burning embers, and the room was bathed in a warm, golden glow emanating from countless floating candles overhead.

Amidst the joyful chaos, Tom's friends sat at a secluded table, an oasis of calm amidst the storm. Their demeanor was poised, their laughter soft and controlled, setting them apart from the exuberant crowd. As you stepped closer, you felt like a solitary figure navigating the maze of social intricacies. Emily, who had promised to join you shortly, was notably absent, leaving you feeling like a fish out of water in this sea of unfamiliar faces.

Tom's hand in yours provided some semblance of comfort, grounding you in the midst of the lively chaos as he introduced you to each one of his friends individually. Every introduction was a meticulously choreographed ritual, marked by the graceful dip of heads and the soft rustle of silk against polished leather. Their smiles, though polite, held a hint of calculated charm, concealing a labyrinth of secrets beneath their composed exteriors.

In this enclave of refinement, Tom's circle stood apart from the rest of the common room. The casual revelry of the other Slytherins felt distant, their laughter and chatter forming a separate backdrop to the sophisticated symphony of Tom's world. The room seemed to bend to the will of this select group, accentuating the stark contrast between their cultivated refinement and the more carefree atmosphere of the rest of the room. Here, every gesture and word was carefully curated, preserving an aura of exclusivity. You could tell this was not something they did very often, so when they did, it was absolutely noticed--the rest of the room seemingly more tame in response, a stark comparison to the last party you had ventured in on.

This group represented everything you had ever dreamed of being a part of, all the aspirations you had ever hoped to achieve. Yet, your focus--or rather, your entire fucking mind--was elsewhere.

And the very reason it was elsewhere was seated amidst a circle of his elite friends-- Nott, Berkshire, Black, Zabini, and Malfoy, with Pansy Parkinson at his side--Mattheo's intense gaze bore into you from across the room. His dark eyes, like orbs of obsidian, were sharp and penetrating, dissecting the scene meticulously, and no matter what the fuck you tried to do, there was absolutely nothing that could distract you from the feeling of his gaze, burning flesh wounds into your skin with each passing second.

While his friends engaged in lively conversations, Mattheo's attention was solely fixated on you and Tom. His focus, both laser-sharp and predatory, traced every movement, every touch, every nuance of your interactions with his brother. The air around him crackled with an unspoken tension, his lips pressed into a thin line, a manifestation of the restrained emotions churning beneath his composed facade. It was as though he was dissecting the scene before him, his mind processing every detail with the precision of a master strategist, all while his dark eyes remained fixated on you, as though he was scared that he'd miss something if he looked away.

As the night bore on, you began to grow more comfortable amidst the sophisticated chatter--getting to know a few of Tom's friends fairly well, discussing ambitions and graduation plans without even being offered a single drink. You honestly thought things had been going well, almost far too fucking well--until Tom excused himself momentarily, his eyes meeting yours from the seat next to you as he prepared to make his exit.

"I need to handle something," he said, his voice low and confidential, his eyes flicking to his brother across the room, before returning to you. "I noticed Mattheo watching you...why don't you go say hi? I should only be a few moments, I'll join you when I'm finished."

"Oh, no-uh..." you hesitated, knowing that Berkshire was present, a fact you couldn't ignore. "I don't think it's a good idea, Tom, me and-" you began, attempting to voice your concerns, but he cut you off with a soft, reassuring kiss.

His lips pressed against yours, brief yet meaningful, before he pushed up from the table, leaving you in the midst of the party, alone.

As Tom's figure disappeared from view, you caught another glimpse of Mattheo from across the room, his gaze intensified, his stormy eyes ablaze with a potent mix of irritation and complete fucking fury--something you've seen in his eyes a few times before, but never like this. He sat slumped in the chair, his form swallowed by the shadows, his tousled curly hair falling over his forehead in disarray. The dim light caught the sheen of frustration on his sharp features, accentuating the hard lines of his jaw and the determined set of his mouth. His fingers tightened around his drink, the muscles in his hands flexing with the effort to suppress the simmering anger bubbling within him.

You knew him all too fucking well at this point to know that he was not bloody happy, and you weren't entirely confident that approaching him was at all the right move at this moment. Yet, you weren't sure what else you were supposed to do.

But before you could dwell any further, Blaise's eyes, a glimmering shade of obsidian, met yours from across the room. His lips curled into a playful smile, beckoning you over to his group with a subtle yet irresistible gesture. Despite your inner turmoil, the unavoidable feeling of dread pooling in your stomach, you excused yourself from the table and began to hesitantly make your way through the crowded room, every step feeling heavier as you approached the circle of Slytherin boys.

Mattheo's presence never relented, slouchily seated in the love seat, legs spread far too fucking wide, his intense gaze fixed on you. His eyes, like twin storm clouds, seemed to dissect every movement, scanning every inch of your body as you moved, as if he was searching for something hidden beneath your skin. It sent shivers down your spine, and you fought to maintain your semblance of composure.

As you drew closer, Berkshire, always the instigator, couldn't resist the opportunity to unleash his venomous tongue. "As if you're going to call her over here," he sneered, his dark eyes gleaming with malice. "Didn't know our circle was open to charity cases."

The rest of the Slytherin boys, visibly inebriated and riding the wave of arrogance, chimed in with smirks and condescending remarks, reveling in their camaraderie at your expense. It was a calculated display of power, a reminder that you were the outsider in this exclusive circle, a pawn in their powerful game.

Suppressing your frustration, you took a seat next to Blaise, your eyes darting briefly to Mattheo, who watched your every move with an intensity that sent your heart racing. The air crackled with tension, and you felt like a lamb surrounded by hungry wolves, each one waiting for the opportunity to pounce. Yet, amid the arrogance and hostility, Blaise's charm provided a temporary shield.

"Ignore them," he murmured, his voice a soothing melody amidst the discord. "They're always like this. Besides, you look stunning tonight, little raven. Don't let them get to you."

Despite Blaise's efforts to calm you down, to deescalate the situation as best as he could, Berkshire persisted, seemingly unable to control himself.

"I hear you're quite the favourite of the prodigy," he sneered, a wicked glint in his eyes. "Must be thrilling, being the chosen one for a night."

Malfoy, ever the arrogant asshole, added his own twist. "Or maybe she's just a distraction," he said, his tone conspiratorial. "You know how Tom likes to keep himself occupied, especially when the stakes are high."

You parted your lips to say something, to defend yourself in any sort of way, when another voice cut through the air, cutting you off before you could even attempt to force out a syllable.

"Tom's little plaything, isn't that right?" Regulus’ words were laced with arrogance, his voice like a low growl. "Who would have guessed."

Blaise shot Regulus a warning glance, his eyes urging him to rein in his hostility, but the damage was done. The room felt suffocating, the weight of their words pressing down on you, threatening to crush your resolve, and you couldn't hold your tongue any further--if they wanted to play with fire, you were going to make sure you were the one holding the matches.

A derisive chuckle escaped your lips as you assessed the Slytherins before you. "Jealousy, gentlemen, is a rather unflattering shade on anyone," you remarked, your gaze settling on Berkshire. "I'd refrain from it if I were you, Berkshire, you're already hard enough to look at as it is."

Berkshire's lips curled into a sneer, his arrogance on full display. "Well, well, we've got ourselves a little spitfire, haven't we?" he retorted, his voice dripping with condescension. "Someone really needs to fix that attitude of yours...perhaps I'll let Tom know, I'm sure he'd be more than willing to fuck it out of y-"

Mattheo's eyes turned icy, his rough voice slicing through the air like a blade of frost. "Berkshire, I suggest you keep your filthy mouth shut before someone decides to shut it for you," he said, his tone frigid and devoid of any warmth. "Let's start the fucking game, yeah?"

Mattheo's attempt to restrain his anger only made his words sharper, emphasizing the dangerous edge lurking beneath his composed exterior--Blaise, seemingly sensing the danger rolling over the horizon, nodded eagerly, shifting in his seat as he scanned around the circle.

"Absolutely, let's get on with it," he chimed in, his tone more playful now. He turned his attention to Nott, a sly grin forming on his lips. "Nott, truth or dare?"

Nott, appearing unfazed by the tension that had just unfolded, raised an eyebrow and smirked back at Blaise.

"Dare," he replied confidently, his demeanor cool and collected.

Blaise's grin widened. "I dare you to snog the next person who enters this common room."

Nott chuckled, seemingly unbothered by the challenge. "Piece of cake," he said, leaning back casually, his eyes scanning the room for potential targets.

You caught yourself smiling at his causality, but when you noticed a familiar blonde haired girl walking in, her eyes scanning the room as though she was looking for someone, your heart stalled.

Blaise's voice cut through the silence. "Hey, isn't that-"

"Yes." You said, raising a hand to wave her over as her sight finally landed on you. "It is..."

Emily hurried over, her eyes widening in curiosity as she settled into the seat next to you, giving you a small greeting. The room seemed to hold its breath as Theodore stood up, a mischievous glint in his eyes.

"Ah, perfect timing," Theodore said, his voice smooth and confident. "Emily, was it? Lovely name. I've been dared to kiss the next person who enters the room, so I must inquire, do you have a boyfriend, and would you be amenable to participating in this little game?"

Emily blinked in surprise, her cheeks flushing slightly. "Um, no boyfriend," she stammered, her gaze shifting nervously between Theodore and the expectant faces around her. "I guess...I mean, if it's just a game, sure, I guess that's fine."

The tension in the circle seemed to heighten as Theodore closed the distance between them, his eyes fixed on Emily's lips. The room fell silent, everyone holding their breath as he leaned in, his hand finding her chin, tilting her head back as his lips met hers in a brief, almost chaste kiss. The atmosphere crackled with a strange mixture of anticipation and awkwardness, your eyes meeting Mattheo's for a fleeting moment--one that felt as though it lasted forever, noticing his jaw tense and his eyes darken as he glimpsed your mouth, and then, as Theodore pulled away, a sly smirk played on his lips.

"There we go, a perfect dare fulfilled," he said as he reclaimed his seat, leaving Emily looking slightly dazed. "And that's how it's done, boys."

Theodore's triumphant tone hung in the air, echoing his satisfaction at successfully completing the dare. Emily, looking slightly embarrassed but surprisingly amused, exchanged a bewildered glance with you. It seemed like Theodore had a natural talent for both charm and mischief, a combination that made him rather unpredictable.

Blaise let out a low whistle, clearly impressed. "Well played, Nott," he said, his tone laced with a mix of amusement and approval. "I think we could all take some fucking notes."

Theodore's dark eyes sparkled with mischief as he turned his attention to Malfoy, who sat back, looking unfazed despite the intensity of the situation.

"Malfoy, truth or dare?" he asked, his voice dripping with calculated curiosity.

Malfoy, never one to back down from a challenge, arched an eyebrow. "Dare," he declared, his confidence unshaken.

"I dare you to serenade the group," Theodore proclaimed with an impish grin after a few moments of thought, his eyes flicking toward Pansy. "And Pansy here gets to pick the song."

You couldn't stifle the smile that crawled its way across your face as Malfoy's expressions dropped, Pansy sitting up straighter against the back of the couch as though she'd just been abruptly woken up from a slumber. As she pondered her thoughts for a moment, a sly smile crawled across her lips while she turned her attention to Malfoy.

"I heard this charming Muggle song recently. 'Can't Help Falling in Love' by Elvis Presley, do you know it?" When Malfoy groaned, reluctantly nodding, her grin widened. "Perfect. Sing it, Malfoy, let's see if you can capture the essence of a true romantic."

Malfoy, never one to shy away from a challenge, dropped the grumbling act and accepted the dare with a smirk. He stood up gracefully, adjusting the cuffs of his dress shirt with an air of confidence. The room fell into a hushed silence, anticipation hanging thick in the air.

With a deep breath, Malfoy launched into the Muggle love ballad, his voice slightly off-key but filled with an unexpected sincerity. Each word spilled out in an earnest attempt, and despite the imperfections, there was a genuine effort in his performance. The room was soon filled with laughter as Malfoy's melodramatic rendition took an unintentionally humorous turn.

His eyes, though, couldn't escape the challenge in Pansy's choice of song. As he sang, they occasionally flicked toward her, acknowledging the audacious choice. The laughter and amusement echoed around the room, mingling with the bittersweet undercurrent of emotions that danced in the air.

Amidst the laughter, Mattheo remained as serious as ever, his eyes continually locking onto you. For a brief moment, your gaze met his, and in that exchange, a torrent of memories flooded your mind--past moments shared in secret, a connection that had once felt unbreakable. The juxtaposition of Malfoy's performance and Mattheo's unwavering stare stirred something deep within you, a mixture of nostalgia, regret, and an unspoken longing that lingered in the pit of your stomach, leaving you both captivated and unsettled.

As his show finally came to an end, Malfoy took a bow, the circle erupting into a laughter-filled applause. As he returned to his seat, Pansy wore a satisfied grin, clearly happy with her choice, and Theodore looked especially pleased, reveling in the success of his dare.

"Quite impressive, Malfoy," Theodore remarked, a glint of amusement in his eyes. "Your secret talents never cease to amaze us."

Malfoy simply shrugged, his usual arrogance back in place. "Naturally," he replied, the corners of his lips quirking up in a subtle smile. "Now, who's next? How about you, Ravenclaw, truth or dare?"

You felt a sudden knot tighten in your stomach as Malfoy turned his attention toward you, his silver eyes sharp and calculating. The weight of the room seemed to press down on your shoulders as the spotlight shifted onto you. A thousand thoughts raced through your mind, each more precarious than the last. Truth might lead to questions about Tom or Mattheo, both topics you desperately wanted to avoid.

So, with a forced nonchalance that barely masked your anxiety, you replied, "Dare."

You hoped against hope that the dare he gave you wouldn't plunge you into deeper waters, although the mischievous glint in Malfoy's eyes suggested he had something particularly devious in mind--and of course, you most definitely were fucking right.

"I dare you to go into the broom closet with Berkshire for fifteen minutes."

Your eyebrows shot up in disbelief at Malfoy's audacious dare, your voice laced with incredulity.

"Are you completely mental?" you scoffed, glancing at Berkshire, who seemed equally stunned. "There's no way I'm voluntarily locking myself in a broom closet with him for fifteen minutes. We will undoubtedly end up tearing each other's heads off."

Berkshire, never one to miss an opportunity to mock, chimed in, "Yeah, I'm not signing up for a murder-suicide pact tonight, thanks."

"What's the matter, Raven? Afraid of a little close quarters?" Malfoy, clearly enjoying your discomfort, taunted, "you two certainly have no problems running your mouths at each other in public. I think a little private meeting might be good for you."

You clenched your fists, trying to rein in your irritation. "I promise you, I'm not afraid...I'd just prefer not to be expelled a few months from graduation."

"Fine, fine...you're a bloody baby," Malfoy retorted, his tone dripping with sarcasm. "Since you're so picky, how about Mattheo instead. He's not scared of a little closet, are you, Riddle?"

Your eyes darted to Mattheo, his expression stoic, but a flicker of something unreadable passed through his eyes. The room seemed to tighten around you, a sense of foreboding settling in your bones as Mattheo's jaw clenched visibly, his eyes glittering with concealed anger as he put down his cup and stood up. The tension in the room grew palpable, the air thick with unspoken hostility. His voice was low and steady, cutting through the silence like a knife.

"Fifteen minutes," he said curtly, his gaze fixed on the broom closet. "Knock when it's up."

Your heart pounded in your chest as you met his determined stare. There was a whirlpool of something in his eyes, something you couldn't quite decipher--anger, frustration, or maybe something entirely different. As he gestured toward the closet, you felt a shiver run down your spine, a mix of apprehension and anticipation.

With a deep breath, you stood up, your eyes never leaving his. You walked toward the closet, trying to ignore the weight of his gaze on your back. The door creaked open, and you both stepped inside, the darkness enveloping you as it closed shut behind you with a soft click. Inside the closet, the air was close, your breaths mingling in the confined space as you stood facing each other with hardly enough room to turn around if you tried to.

The seconds stretched into eternity as you waited, the tension between you almost suffocating. It was a daring game, one neither of you had expected to play, and now you were trapped together, the world outside the closet slipping away into nothingness, the tense energy in the room vibrating through your bones as the silence grew to be unbearable, neither of you daring to speak.

Finally, Mattheo spoke, his voice rough like gravel underfoot, breaking the silence like a crack of thunder in the night. "You let him kiss you."

His words weren't a question, but weren't really a statement either--it was as though he was repeating something, reading something off a sheet of paper, trying to make sense of it, each syllable carrying a weight of disbelief, as if he was grappling with a reality he couldn't quite accept. Your pulse increased, your lungs stalling, his tone laced with something you couldn't quite place--accusation, curiosity, or maybe a hint of vulnerability.

"Yes," your throat felt tight as you admitted your actions. "I did."

It was a confession, a truth you couldn't deny, even if you wanted to. The darkness seemed to amplify the weight of your words, and you could almost feel Mattheo's gaze piercing through the shadows, seeking answers. And even though you could hardly see Mattheo's face in the darkness of the closet, you could smell the hint of alcohol radiating off of him, not as strong as it usually was, but still enough to make your head spin. Mattheo's breath, warm and laced with the remnants of the party, washed over your face. His next question sliced through the air, sharp and accusatory.

"Why?" he demanded, his voice a low growl, echoing with frustration and confusion. "You said you don't-"

"I don't." You cut him off, already knowing exactly what he was going to say. "Not at fucking all."

The words spilled out, tinged with defiance, but beneath that was a current of vulnerability. You knew the truth of your feelings, but convincing Mattheo seemed like an insurmountable task in the darkness.

"Then why?" he pressed again, his tone more insistent, as though he needed you to unravel this mystery for him. "You're playing him...you're playing him like a fucking flute, yeah?"

His accusation hung in the air, a challenge, a plea for an explanation that made sense of the tangled web of emotions between you, and for some reason, all it did was further your anger.

"Does that bother you, Riddle?" you hissed, your voice cutting through the darkness like a blade. You shifted your weight, locking eyes with him, your gaze narrowed and intense. "Did you think you were the only one capable of playing games? Or maybe you think it’s only okay when you do it?"

The words carried a raw edge, a blend of defiance and accusation, challenging him to confront his own actions and hypocrisy. Mattheo's throat worked as he swallowed, a flicker of something unreadable in his eyes.

"Raven, you're playing with fire-" he began, his voice a low warning.

"Don't even go there," you cut him off, your words dripping with venom. "I am the shape you made me, Mattheo...filth teaches filth..."

Your voice trailed off, the darkness of the closet adding weight to your words. You tilted your head, catching a glimpse of his parted lips and furrowed brows, a mix of frustration and barely-restrained anger etched on his features.

"And even still," you continued, your tone biting, "I could only dream to be as skilled at it as you are."

Mattheo's jaw tightened, his eyes flickering with an emotion you couldn't quite place, as your words hung in the air like a heavy fog. The anger and dread that had gripped you moments ago seemed to dissipate, replaced by an almost palpable tension. His energy shifted, seeping out of the closet through the cracks in the door, leaving a lingering, painstaking atmosphere in its wake.

You stood there, anxiety coiling in your chest, completely unaware of how close the two of you were until this very moment. His presence loomed over you, a silent force that you couldn't escape, and yet, a part of you didn't want to. His chest rose and fell with each intense breath, the confined space amplifying the weight of his proximity. There was nowhere to run, nowhere to hide, and even if there were, you found yourself rooted to the spot, knowing that not even a fucking fire could force you to move.

"I haven't stopped thinking about you, either." He whispered.

You paused. “You-“

"You haven’t left my mind…not even once." His words hung in the air like a sinful confession, catching you completely off guard. “Do you know how fucking annoying that is, Raven? Having to act like you’re not haunting me at all seconds of the fucking day?”

Utter shock seized you, your body tensing involuntarily. You stared at his face, desperately searching for any signs of deceit, but found none.

“The mind works in funny ways,” he said. “Memory…memory taps a fucking gun to your skull and demands you bring back the dead…meanwhile, the dead is out kissing my fucking brother in front of me…”

His gaze bored into yours, raw and unguarded, leaving you utterly defenseless against the truth he laid bare.

“I know we called things off, I know I used you in the beginning, I know I was a fucking asshole to you, and I’m…I’m fucking sorry..." his body seemed to vibrate with restrained emotion, his fists clenched at his sides, as though he was waging a war within his mind. "There’s so many girls out there, Raven...so fucking many that I could distract myself with, but it would do nothing...it's your body, it's your fucking pussy on my mind..."

Each word hung between you, heavy and charged with unspoken longing, you couldn't breathe, couldn't think, couldn't move. "Matt-"

Mattheo stepped forward, his presence overwhelming, his chest almost brushing against yours but not quite daring to touch. The tension between you crackled in the air, your every nerve on edge. His eyes, dark and searching, drilled into yours, seeking answers to questions you weren't sure you were ready to confront.

"Were you thinking of me?" His voice was a low rumble, an undercurrent of intensity underscoring his words. "When you're with him...every time you close your eyes, who do you see?"

Your breath caught in your throat, your fingers trembling at your sides. The room seemed to spin, the air growing thin as your lungs struggled to draw in oxygen.

"You." The word escaped your lips, a fragile admission that hung between you, heavy with the weight of truth. "Always, always you."

Mattheo exhaled, his breath rushing out like a dam breaking, as though he had been holding it in, afraid of your response. His lips parted, wetted by a tongue that seemed to have forgotten how to form words.

"That's right..." he murmured, his voice barely audible over the racing of your hearts. "You know I'm your best-kept secret, Raven...why don't you show me like you know and believe it..."

His words lingered in the charged atmosphere, a challenge and a plea, leaving you suspended in the moment, torn between the past and the present, between what was and what could be.

Your voice wavered with a mix of concern and disbelief. "You're drunk, aren't you, Mattheo..."

"I'm not drunk." His reply was swift, like a crack of lightning. "I've barely had one fucking drink, I'm as sober as I've ever been...and even if I hadn't quit all that shit, there'd be no way I could drink tonight anyways."

Your breath hitched, your eyes locked onto his, searching for any sign that this was some kind of sick joke. "Why?"

Mattheo emitted a low chuckle, but it lacked any warmth, carrying a sinister edge that sent shivers down your spine. "Because, if I was drunk, I wouldn't have been able to control myself...I would have knocked my own brother out fifty fucking times over without even a second thought…not a fucking soul in that room would have been able to stop me..."

His words hung heavy in the air, an ominous promise that draped over you like a suffocating cloak, leaving you with a chilling realization that the tangled web of your past was far from unraveling.

"You fucking ruin me, Raven..." his voice was a low, guttural whisper, dark and haunting, sending a shudder through your limbs. "That stare...it makes me fucking want things..."

Your eyes widened, his words wrapping around you like a vice, constricting your thoughts.

"Things...like what?" you managed to breathe out, your voice barely audible.

Mattheo ran a trembling hand through his tousled hair, the veins in his hands standing out in stark relief, a silent testament to the intensity of his emotions. His eyes, usually so sharp and controlled, were now clouded with a raw, primal desire, a longing that had been hidden for far too long.

"Things like my fist in your hair and my cock in that pretty fucking mouth..." he growled, his voice cracking with the weight of his desire. "Things like bending you over in the middle of that party just to show every asshole out there who you belong to..."

Your mind was a whirlwind, thoughts spinning out of control, unable to comprehend anything except the burning desire that consumed you.

"Holy fuck..." the words escaped your lips in a breathless whisper, a testament to the overwhelming intensity of the moment. "Mattheo, I...."

Mattheo's eyes, darker than you'd ever seen them, searched yours desperately. "Can I touch you, Raven?" he pleaded, his voice a raw, heartfelt plea. "Please, let me fucking touch you."

In response, you barely managed to nod, your throat tight with anticipation. And then, his lips crashed onto yours with a fervor that made up for all the lost time, all the weeks of distance and silence. His kiss was passionate, demanding, a fiery reunion of lips and souls that ignited a wildfire between you two. His hands, warm and possessive, found their way to your waist, pulling you closer, sealing the gap that had kept you apart for far too long.

In that moment, every wall you had built around your heart crumbled, the fragments falling away like ash in the wind. You surrendered to the storm that was Mattheo Riddle, his touch setting your skin ablaze, his kiss a tempest that swept you off your feet. He was your drug, your haunting addiction, an irresistible pull that defied reason and logic. No matter how far you tried to run, no matter the crazy measures you took to stay away, you always found yourself right back where you started--entangled in his arms, lost in the intoxicating whirlwind of his presence.

Mattheo broke the kiss, his hands gripping you as if he feared you might vanish into thin air. His lips trailed down to your jawline, his voice a low, gravelly murmur against your skin. "I can taste your fucking pain, Raven...is that because of me?"

You nodded, your voice catching in your throat. "Yes," you admitted, your vulnerability laid bare before him. "Having experienced both, I'm not sure what hurts more...intense feeling, or the absence of it..."

"The absence...without a fucking doubt," he whispered, his touch on your skin sending electric sparks through your veins. His presence felt overwhelming, his breath warm against your neck in the dimness of the closet. "I know he's good for you...I know he's every fucking thing that you need...but I-"

"No." Your hands tightened around his neck, nails digging into his skin. "He could be fucking everything and more...he's just...he's not you."

Mattheo's teeth grazed your earlobe, a shiver running down your spine as your words spun in the silence between your bodies. Your hands found his hair, fingers threading through the dark curls, holding onto him as if he were your lifeline in the midst of a storm.

"Better men could have you, Raven...I won’t deny that," he admitted, his voice a husky murmur against your skin. "But they'll have to get through me, now...I will leave such a fucking imprint on your soul that anyone you entertain after me will have to physically know me in order to fucking attempt to understand you..."

His declaration felt like a promise, an unspoken commitment that bound you to him in a way that transcended mere words. In that moment, you realized that you were not just giving in to desire; you were surrendering to something far more profound and all-encompassing. Mattheo wasn't just another flame to be extinguished; he was a wildfire, consuming everything in its path, leaving behind scorched earth and a desire that defied reason.

You pulled him closer, sealing the unspoken pact with a fervent kiss, letting the intensity of your emotions guide your actions. In that dim closet, amidst the whispers of Slytherin secrets and the echoes of your tangled past, you found solace in Mattheo's arms, embracing the chaos that came with wanting someone you shouldn't, knowing that in the end, the heart wants what it wants, regardless of the consequences.

The air in the closet felt charged with a potent blend of desire and desperation as you pulled away, gasping for air. The intensity of the moment coursed through your veins, leaving you breathless and exhilarated. Your eyes locked onto Mattheo's, your voice raw and unsteady, yet laced with conviction.

"You might be bad…so fucking bad for me, Mattheo," you whispered, your words hanging in the small space between you, "but I fucking want you...there's no one else..."

“Fucking hell, Raven…” Mattheo let out a low, guttural groan, his hand slithering up to grip your face gently, his thumb tracing your cheekbone. His stormy eyes bore into yours, his voice a gravelly murmur, carrying the weight of his emotions. “You’re my little devil, aren’t you?”

You smirked. “Yes…I am…”

"I'm in deep, baby," he murmured, his lips brushing against yours, his breath warm and sweet. "Merlin knows we both feel it...you hold my fucking fate, so seal it…”

With those words, you closed the distance between you yet again, capturing his lips in a searing kiss, his hands slithering down to grip your backside with enough force to make you groan into his mouth. And just as things began escalating, just as your hands were trailing their way down the front of his body, reaching for his belt, there was a knock at the door.

"Fifteens up."

————————

Find seventeen->

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oosa3x · 24 days

Text

secret moments (rd3)

prologue

. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁⋆.˚✮˚.⋆. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁

pairing: ruben dias x f!celebrity!reader

warning(s): language, mentions of stalkers, anxiety + emotional stress, feelings of isolation word count: 3,038

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As the sleek, black SUV glided to a smooth stop, Y/N ran her fingers on the edge of her dress, the fabric soft to the touch. She glances quickly at her phone, right on time.

It’s always like this—the split second of calm that comes before the storm. The instant her head of security, Mark, opens the door, the world erupts into chaos. Cameras flash in rapid succession, each one capturing every single frame of her movements, from a hundred different angles. She steps out, a practiced smile tugging on her lips, not quite reaching her eyes.

She takes in a breath, letting the cool, Manchester night air fill her lungs as she straightens up, the clicking of her heels against the pavement blending in with the click, click, click of the cameras. The noise around her is deafening, a garbled mix of questions, calls of her name, and orders from her security asking everyone to take a step back. It’s overwhelming, yet achingly familiar—this is the life she once dreamed of, no, begged for. From the moment she pleaded with her parents to enroll her in that theater camp all those years ago, she knew she was destined for fame, craving the adoration of fans and the recognition that comes with being a household name. How could she not be famous? Every music teacher had told her she sang like an angel. 'With a voice like that,' they’d say, 'how could you not have a slew of adoring fans?’

And here it was, that fame, blinding her with camera flashes—the often harsh reality of never finding a moment of solitude or peace.

Yet even with its occasional dark underbelly, she loved the life fame had given her far more than she resented it. She loved the art, the work, the human connection. She cherished the way she made people feel—seen, understood, and less alone. How could she not love this job when she’d just been cast in her dream role?

The stalkers, the threats on your life, a voice whispered in her mind, the one she tried to silence every single day in her quest for some semblance of normalcy amidst her stratospheric amount of fame.

She had everything she ever wanted—fame, fortune, admiration—but at what cost? The weight of the spotlight was suffocating, the constant scrutiny exhausting. The thrill of performing on stage, of becoming someone else on screen, was often overshadowed by the gnawing fear that her carefully constructed world could crumble with a single misstep. One slip, one unguarded moment, and the sense of security she clung to, could crack, leaving her vulnerable to the dangers that always seemed to lurk at the edge of her fame.

But she couldn't think about that now. Not tonight. Not when she’d just arrived to this new city, her new home for the next year. Not when she’d worked so hard to get to this point. She’d blistered her feet in character shoes, lost count of the times she’d cut her fingers changing guitar strings, and had done so many vocal warm-ups that they had become a language of their own in her vocabulary. She was thrust into the spotlight at 15, an age when most are just beginning to understand who they are and their place in the world. But while her childhood friends were navigating school and first loves, she was sacrificing sleep and missing important family milestones, trading school dances for long hours on set, in studios, and in board rooms with adults making decisions about her career. The normalcy and innocence of adolescence slipped away as she fiercely devoted herself to the relentless pursuit of perfection. She’d given up friendships that couldn’t withstand the demands of her career, missed countless holidays with loved ones, and shouldered the emotional burden of a life lived under constant scrutiny.

So, she took the negatives of fame on the chin. She fell into her routine: “head held high, shoulders back, walk with purpose.” The dress she’s wearing—a custom piece, naturally—hugs her figure perfectly. The dress is the furthest thing from her mind, though, as she focused on putting one stilettoed foot in front of the other without losing her bearings due to the blinding glare of the camera flashes.

A few more steps and she’d be inside the up-scale restaurant having dinner with a powerful studio executive, his company footing a large part of the film’s budget.

As the door closed behind them, sealing off the flashing lights and the relentless noise, she took in the setting of the restaurant. The quiet chatter, the dim lighting, the rich scent of polished wood and expensive food—it was almost enough to make her forget the chaos outside. Almost.

Mark stepped back, giving her space but staying within reach. He was a constant presence in her life, one of the few people she trusted wholeheartedly. "Do you need a minute alone? I could clear out that hallway over there, if you need me to." he asked, his voice low, just for her.

She shook her head. "No. I’m fine, but thank you. I kind of just want to get started." Her voice was steady, but she knew he could see through the mask. He always could. He’s been working for her pretty much from the moment she was thrust into the spotlight. Her rise to fame was as swift as it was overwhelming, making the need for security an immediate necessity. He nodded, respecting her need to push forward, but his eyes lingered on her a moment longer, silently conveying his concern. She straightened up again, squaring her shoulders as if she could physically push the weight of the world off them.

Together, they walked further into the restaurant. As they moved through the main floor, the soft murmur of conversation began to die down, replaced by the subtle rustling of patrons shifting in their seats. Eyes followed her every step, awe flickering in their gazes. Some tried to be subtle, but she caught the movements from the corner of her eye—an instinct she’d honed over the last twelve years of being in the spotlight. Phones slowly lifted, camera apps discreetly launched, as they seized the opportunity to capture the moment.

Mark walked ahead, his broad frame cutting a path through the dimly lit space, while Eric, a second bodyguard, stayed a step behind her, his watchful eyes scanning the room, making sure no one got too close. The atmosphere buzzed with whispers, fragments of her name slipping through the hushed conversations.

The hostess—who looked about one breath away from hyperventilating, tears brimming her eyes—led them to a private dining room at the back. As the door closed behind them, sealing off the public’s eager eyes, the tension in her shoulders eased just slightly, but the weight of their expectations lingered in the air. Her publicist and manager were already seated at the table, deep in conversation with the studio executive. The moment she entered, all eyes turned to her.

Her publicist, Raquel, a woman with an impeccable sense of style, stood first. "There she is," she said with a warm smile, moving to greet her. "You look absolutely amazing, as always, my dear.”

Her manager, Claudia, a calm, steady presence who had guided her through everything, also stood up to give her a quick hug. "Right on time," she said, her tone as measured as ever. "Everything go smoothly outside?”

She returned the smiles, though hers was softer, more controlled. "As smoothly as it ever does." She accepted the brief hug from both her publicist and her manager before turning to the studio executive.

The executive stood as she approached, extending a hand with a smile that was all business. "Miss L/N, it’s a pleasure to see you again," he said smoothly. "Thank you for making the time."

"Of course," she replied, taking his hand and then sliding into the chair opposite him. "I’m looking forward to hearing more about the project."

The executive waved a hand, and the hostess quickly poured wine into the glasses before retreating, leaving them alone. He raised his glass in a small toast. "To what I’m sure will be an amazing collaboration."

She mirrored his action, the cool glass against her fingers grounding her slightly. "To new beginnings."

Her publicist and manager joined in the toast, their faces reflecting the mix of optimism and caution that came with every new project. The executive took a sip, then set his glass down, his demeanor shifting slightly as he leaned forward.

"We’re thrilled to have you on board. This role... it’s going to be a game-changer for you. The script is incredible, the director’s a genius, and we’re pulling out all the stops to promote this film."

She nodded, her face calm, but inside, her mind was already running through the list of demands this project would make of her. The hours on set, the press tours, the interviews—each one a small battle in the war to stay on top, to remain the ‘it girl’. "I’m excited to dive in. I’ve been waiting for a role like this."

Her manager, ever the practical one, leaned forward slightly. "We’ve reviewed the schedule, and it’s tight, but it’s manageable. We’ll need to coordinate closely, especially with the promotional commitments. Don’t worry, you’ll also get moments of peace in between."

Her publicist added, "There’s a lot of buzz already. We need to be strategic about your appearances, make sure we’re maximizing the exposure without burning you out."

The executive smiled, clearly pleased with their input. "We’re all on the same page here. This film is going to be huge."

She took another sip of wine, savoring the brief moment of silence. The praise was flattering, but it was also a reminder of the constant pressure to deliver, to be perfect.

The executive continued, his tone more serious now. "I won’t lie, though you’ll still have a few breaks in filming, this is going to be demanding. The director is known for pushing his actors to their limits, and we’ll need you fully committed. But if anyone can handle it, it’s you."

She met his gaze, the smile never leaving her face. "I’ve never been one to shy away from a challenge. I’m ready to give it everything I’ve got."

Her publicist glanced at her, then at the executive. "We’ll make sure she’s prepared. And of course, we’ll coordinate with your team to ensure everything goes smoothly."

Her manager nodded. "You all made the right choice choosing Y/N. She is more than ready for this."

The executive nodded, seemingly satisfied. "That’s exactly what I wanted to hear." He leaned back in his chair, a more relaxed smile crossing his face. "Let’s talk specifics, then. I want to make sure you have everything you need to succeed."

As they delved into the details of the project—locations, timelines, marketing strategies—she listened carefully, her mind a careful balance of focus and detachment. She knew this was important, that this film could be a turning point in her career, but she couldn’t help the small voice in the back of her mind that whispered of exhaustion, of the toll this life took on her.

But she silenced it, as she always did. She had worked too hard to let doubt creep in now. This was her dream, and she had worked incredibly hard to make it her reality.

Her publicist leaned in, breaking the flow of technical discussions with a smile. "You know, there’s something special about this project. I can feel it."

Her manager nodded, a rare sparkle of enthusiasm in his usually measured demeanor. "It’s the perfect blend��challenging but rewarding. I think you’re going to surprise even yourself with what you achieve here."

She let their words wash over her, allowing herself to believe them for a moment. Maybe they were right. Maybe this was the role that would not only challenge her but would elevate her to new heights. The thought sent a flicker of excitement through her, a reminder of why she had fought so hard to get here in the first place.

As the meeting wrapped up and they all stood to leave, she looked around at the faces of the people she trusted most. "We’re going to make this something unforgettable," she said, and this time, her smile wasn’t just for show.

But as they prepared to exit the private dining room, her eyes drifted across the restaurant. At a nearby table, she noticed a young couple sitting close, their hands intertwined, looking at each other like the other had hung the stars. The woman laughed softly, her partner brushing a lock of hair behind her ear with a tenderness that made her chest tighten.

She turned away quickly, focusing on the path ahead instead. The couple’s easy affection stirred something in her, a longing she rarely allowed herself to acknowledge. Despite all the success, all the admiration, there was a gnawing emptiness that no amount of fame or money could fill. The men she met were captivated by the image, the glamor, the persona she projected. But none of them really took the chance to know her—the real her, beyond the red carpets and the rehearsed smiles.

For so long, she had been nothing more than arm candy, a trophy on the arm of powerful men who loved the idea of her but not the reality. They were enamored by her beauty, but quickly intimidated by her fame. Most of them were quick to back away when the cameras weren’t rolling, when they realized that the woman behind the flashing lights was more than just a pretty face. They were drawn to the allure of dating a superstar but recoiled when the reality of her life became too overwhelming.

And those who didn’t run? They were the ones who tried to diminish her, to make her feel small so they could feel bigger. The musicians who thought themselves superior because they didn’t make “pop music.” They treated her like a guilty pleasure, something to enjoy in private but never proudly claim. Their words, cloaked in playful jabs and condescension, had a way of cutting deep, making her feel inferior for the very thing that had brought her so much success in the first place.

She could still hear the echoes of their backhanded compliments, the subtle digs at her craft, and the way they’d say “pop star” sneeringly. They’d smile and tell her she was talented, but there was always that lingering undertone—that she wasn’t quite serious enough, not quite respectable enough to be considered their equal, despite her countless prestigious awards and record-breaking achievements. It left her questioning herself, wondering if the world saw her the same way they did.

The fame, the fortune—it was a double-edged sword. It brought her everything she thought she wanted but took away the one thing she needed most: genuine connection. She had grown tired of the men who saw her as a status symbol, who were either emasculated by her success or secretly resented it. None of them had ever seen her for who she really was, the woman beneath the glitz and the glamor, the one who craved love as deeply and earnestly as anyone else.

The woman who adored dad jokes and bad puns. The one who could watch Clue and The First Wives Club more times than she’d ever admit. They didn’t know about her love for the smell of rain on asphalt or the way she insisted on playing “Neon Moon” as her first song every time she took the stage at karaoke nights. They didn’t see how much joy she found in making children laugh or how deeply she cherished the “-ber” months. The woman whose parents nurtured her boundless curiosity, encouraging her to become a walking encyclopedia.

They couldn’t grasp how deeply her heart yearned for genuine connection, how she longed for someone to hold her—not for the image she projected to the world, but for the woman she was in those quiet moments alone at night. Beneath the polished exterior, she was kind, funny, and deeply compassionate, with a fierce love for her family and an unwavering determination to keep moving forward, despite the weight of the world on her shoulders. She was more than just a star—she was a person, craving something real.

And as she watched that couple, so lost in each other, a pang of longing struck her. She yearned for that kind of love—the kind that wasn’t tainted by envy or insecurity, the kind that didn’t wilt under the glare of her fame. A love that was simple and true, where she could just be herself, not the persona the world expected her to be.

She straightened her posture, pushing the thought away as they reached the door. She couldn’t afford to dwell on it, not tonight. But as she stepped back into the night, the brief glimpse of that couple lingered in her mind, a reminder that there were still parts of her life that even her relentless drive and success couldn’t fully satisfy.

Meanwhile, just a few blocks away from the city center, a Portuguese defender was winding down for the evening. After a light meal and some stretching exercises, he stood by the window of his apartment, looking out over the quiet city below. Tomorrow was match day, and his routine was precise—early to bed, clear-minded, focused. The game was his world, and it required everything from him.

As he set his alarm and turned off the lights, his thoughts were already on the pitch, on the plays he would execute, the goals he would defend. In the solitude of his room, there was no need for the public persona he wore so effortlessly. Here, he was just a man preparing to do what he did best.

Unbeknownst to both of them, their worlds, so different yet on a slow and steady path to intersection, would soon collide in ways neither could have predicted.

As the cameras flashed once more, she couldn’t help but wonder—would there ever be someone who could see past the spotlight to the person she really was?

📍manchester, england

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ynstan and you do deserve all the good things coming your way bb

━━━━━━☆━━━━━━━━━━━━☆━━━━━

author's note: i am so excited for y'all to read "secret moments"

i am using lori harvey as a faceclaim bc she is so gorgeous and i looooove her style but that does not mean that this is who you have to picture when reading.

i've been wanting to write something like this since 2022.

also, she is american given that i am american. i only say this bc i might subconsciously use american/californian sayings without realizing i am because that’s what i grew up saying lol. i also want to point out that because i am from california, i'm on a different timezone than most people that post on ruben's tag so i might answer things in my asks kinda late but i will always try my best to answer in a timely manner!

anyway, enough rambling! i really hope y'all like this ◡̈

-mars

#ruben dias #ruben dias x you #ruben dias x y/n #ruben dias x reader #rúben dias

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alastwhorez · 3 days

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Corrupt - Chapter one: The Fallen Nun

𖤐 Pairing: Alastor x Nun!Reader

𖤐 Smmary: In the depths of Hell, where redemption is a rare commodity, Alastor, the Radio Demon, encounters an unexpected challenge: a nun who has fallen from grace. Drawn by her purity and the potential for corruption, Alastor sets out to twist her faith and make her his own. However, as he delves deeper into her world, he finds himself entangled in emotions he never anticipated. Can she keep her faith, or will the Radio Demon corrupt her? 𖤐 Warnings: 18+, MDNI, religion, smut, nun reader, masturbation, voyeurism, corruption kink, Alastor is a little shit, graphic sexual scenes, nightmares, Sexual manipulation, Hallucinations, Hell. I think that's everything

𖤐 an: First chapter, hope you enjoy! Not very long, the other should be longer. Not proofread, possible spelling errors

The air in Hell was thick with the scent of brimstone and despair. Amidst the chaos and torment, a lone figure wandered, her eyes wide with confusion and fear. Sister (y/n), once a devoted nun, now found herself in the last place she ever expected to be.

Clutching her rosary tightly, she whispered prayers under her breath, hoping for some semblance of comfort. Her long hair, usually hidden beneath her habit, flowed freely, a stark contrast to the dark, twisted landscape around her. Her circle glasses perched delicately on her nose, framing eyes that still held a glimmer of hope.

As she walked, she couldn’t help but feel the weight of countless eyes upon her. Demons and lost souls alike watched her with a mixture of curiosity and malice. Yet, she pressed on, determined to find a way out of this infernal place.

It was then that she heard it—a voice, smooth and melodic, cutting through the cacophony of Hell. “Well, well, what do we have here?” The voice seemed to come from everywhere and nowhere at once, sending a shiver down her spine.

Sister (y/n) turned, her heart pounding in her chest. Standing before her was a tall, slender figure dressed in a red pinstripe suit. His grin was wide and unsettling, and his eyes gleamed with a mischievous light. She recognized him immediately from the stories she had heard—the Radio Demon, Alastor.

“Lost, are we?” Alastor’s voice was laced with amusement as he took a step closer. “A nun in Hell. Now, that’s a sight you don’t see every day.”

Sister (y/n) took a step back, her grip on her rosary tightening. “Stay back, demon,” she warned, her voice trembling. “I have no business with you.”

Alastor chuckled, the sound echoing around them. “Oh, but I think you do, my dear. You see, I find you… fascinating.” He tilted his head, studying her with an intensity that made her skin crawl. “Such purity in a place like this. It’s almost poetic.”

She swallowed hard, trying to muster the courage to stand her ground. “I will not be swayed by your words. My faith is strong.”

“Is it now?” Alastor’s grin widened. “We’ll see about that.” With a flick of his wrist, he conjured a chair out of thin air and sat down, crossing one leg over the other. “Why don’t we have a little chat, Sister (y/n)? After all, we have all the time in the world.”

Despite her fear, Sister (y/n) felt a strange pull towards the demon. There was something about him, something that made her want to understand him, even as she resisted his influence. Taking a deep breath, she nodded. “Very well. But know this, Alastor—I will not be easily corrupted.”

Alastor’s eyes sparkled with intrigue. “Challenge accepted, my dear. Challenge accepted.”

The loud Ringing of your alarm woke you from the nightmare. Your breath deeply trying to calm yourself down, Your body had broken out into a sweat. It was as if he was really there or should I say you were really there—in hell.

Taking a deep breath you turn off the alarm and get out of bed. Sunday morning, the busiest day of the week. You go To the bathroom, wash up, and return to putting on your habit. You kneel down at your bed and say a prayer Before getting up and leaving your room to meet with the other sisters.

You all work together on your daily chores before the first service of the day. At the service you usually sing in the choir and help teach Sunday school to the children.

Today Is not different. It goes exactly how it does every Sunday, except the presence of the man from your dream lingers. As if he is watching you, following you around the church, mocking you.

You notice shadows Out of the corner of your eye, or a figure in the mirrors or glass windows when you pass. Things none of the other sisters see. You hear radio static when you are alone in a room and a malicious laugh when in prayer. You catch figures standing behind the other sisters or the priest when speaking to them. Evil, Malicious figures.

So you pray, you pray and you pray and you pray. begging for this to all stop. For you to still be dreaming. You notice your thoughts start to linger away from your faith. You start questioning things you never thought about before. Start asking yourself why you became A nun. These thoughts scare you so you try to pray them away. Begging God for an answer.

“Sister (y/n), are you alright? You seem out of it today” Father Paul says

You let out a sign. At first startled when you heard his voice. Thinking it was the malicious spirits playing with you again.

“Yes Father, I am alright. Thank you for asking” You say with a slight bow of your head. “Is there anything I can assist you with Father?”

He smiles at you and begins to talk but you don't hear any of it. Not when there is a shadow behind him showing you foul, violent images. The images go from violence to sexual back to violence.

“Sister, are you sure you're alright?” Father Paul Asks,pulling your attention back to him.

Your face is Flushed from the sexual images and sounds you were forced to witness. Never having seen Or heard such things before.

“I'm sorry Father, I'm feeling quite ill actually”

Laughter, deep, chest rumbling laughter is all you hear followed by the noise of radio static As the laughter dies down.

Father Paul tells you to take the rest of the day in silent prayer, that the other sisters can handle all the duties left for the day. You thank him and go back to your room, locking yourself inside.

You pray for the rest of the day trying to ignore The voices and shadows as they play with you. When night falls you retire to your bed after replacing your habit with a silk nightgown. Something you aren't supposed to have, it's too short and fabric is not modest enough.

Saying one more prayer you fall asleep.

The feeling of hands on you is all you can make out. It's dark, you can't see anything but you can hear the slight sound of static.

You feel the hand run Higher and higher up your leg starting at the ankle and moving up to your thigh. Your breath hitches when it reaches the bottom of your nightgown before continuing up under the garment.

You rub your legs together before you hear a laugh and someone saying in a deep static laced voice. “My Oh my who knew the pretty little nun would be so naughty”

The hand brushes against your Clothed cunt. Rubbing against your bundle of nerves pulling an unwanted moan from you before you feel the fabric being pushed to the side and something entering you.

You slam your legs shut or at least try to, another hand holds them open. The hands are big, bigger than any humans. You can hear the wet sound of your cunt as the finger moves in and out of you pulling another moan. You feel your nipples harden, and a tingling sensation all over your body. This is wrong. You should want it to stop but you want more.

The hand pulls away right before you reach your climax and you feel tears well up in your eyes. You're about to beg or prey. You don't know which one will get you further in this situation.

The entity who was touching you laughs and coos at you. “Aw does the poor little nun want more?” You whine, embarrassed.

It laughs again. “If I was a nicer man I would help you but unfortunately for you I enjoy watching you suffer.”

Another whine as tears start you fall down your cheek. You feel a cold finger slide against your cheek picking up the tear.

“if you want to come So bad do it yourself”

And you do. You touch yourself in ways you've never thought of before all to the sound of static. You're about to cum when your eyes shoot open and you realize it was all a dream. You're uncomfortable. Feeling a wetness in your panties and an ache between your legs.

You rub your legs together trying to ease the ache but it isn't helping. You get up and change your panties, hoping that will fix the problem.

When it doesn't, the voice of the entity that haunts you rang in your head. “If you want to cum so Bad do it yourself”

You lay down on your bed, pull your nightgown up and panties down, spreading your legs. You take a deep breath as you stare At the ceiling and let your hand travel Down your body. Jumping when you touch your cunt. You feel the sticky, slick fluid oozing out if you. You suck in a deep breath, jerking with every move of your finger. You are sensitive. Of course you are, you've never been touched like this before.

You find your bud and start at a slow pace, rubbing. A moan slips past your lips but it doesn't feel the same. You try thinking about someone but the only man you know is Father Paul. You can't convince yourself to think about him when doing this lewd act.

You let your mind wander and before you know it you're thinking about a man you've only met in your dreams. He's not even a man anymore, he's a demon.

You moan again as you speed up your finger, starting to feel good. “oh” you moan as you grab your tit and squeeze. You arch your back at the feeling.

You keep rubbing but it's not enough. Static fills you senses and you hear a deep voice say “put a finger in”

No you can't do that. You can't enter your virgin cunt. You can't even use tampons When on your period so you definitely can't do that. You have to be pure.

“But you're not pure~”

You whine trying to cum but it just isn't enough.

“No one will know”

Another whine when you think about how it felt in your dream. Why did it have to feel so good. Images of the demon flash in your mind. Him between your legs, licking you. Him on top of you or you on top of him in nothing but your coif as you bounce on him, grinding down, throwing your head back as you let out a pleasurable scream.

“Oh god” you whine

“God isn't going to help you. But I can”

“Please” you cry as you rub harder to the images in your mind

“Be a good girl and add a finger and maybe I'll consider it”

You whine but do as the voice says. You slip your hand down lower, coating your fingers on your juices. You take a deep breath and press a finger in, biting your lip to hold back the moan.

You start moving your finger in and out but it still isn't enough. The voice tells you to curl your finger on a come here motion. You do and your back arches off the bed as your mouth falls open in a silent scream.

The static in the room is getting louder, you can feel it on your skin now. Hairs standing on end. You throw your head from side to side wanting more but not knowing what to do, only knowing the pleasure you're giving yourself.

“Such a good girl”

You grip the sheets with your free hand feeling a tingly feeling build In your gut.

“Use your other hand to play with your clit”

You don't think twice about doing it. The voice was right before it had to be right now. You're a moaning mess on your bed. You're trying to be quiet not wanting to wake your sisters. You bite your lip to hold back the sounds.

“Tsk tsk tsk. Trying to be quiet? Well that won't do. I want to hear those pretty Sounds”

You let out a scream as you feel yourself come undone, eyes rolling back. Back arching.

You lay there trying to catch your breath. You're a mess, nightgown wrinkled and hair in knots. Your breathing is heavy and you need new panties.

“Keep listenin’ to me darlin’. Well have lost of fun”

That's the last thing you hear before drifting back to sleep. That night you dream of static and a demon who you hear stories about, stories that warn you how dangerous he is and not to be tricked by him.

But how can a demon who made you feel so good be so bad?

Table Of Contents, Next chapter

#hazbin hotel #alastor #hazbin alastor #alastor x reader #alastor x you #hazbin hotel x reader #hazbin hotel x y/n #alastor x y/n #alastor x nun #hazbin hotel x you #♡~mazie is talking~♡#🦌~alastwhorez~🦌

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isak-dot-gov · 21 days

Note

can you do emily engstler with a autistic reader??

In Tune With You

Pairing: Emily Engstler x Autistic!reader

Word count: 1669

My masterlist :)

.................................................

You were sitting in the cosy corner of your favourite coffee shop, a place you often retreated to when the world felt a bit too overwhelming. The comforting hum of the espresso machine, the soft chatter of customers, and the warm lighting all created an environment that felt just right. You had your headphones on, playing your go-to playlist—music that helped ground you when your senses were on overdrive.

Today was one of those days. The usual background noises seemed louder, the lights a bit too bright, and the crowds more suffocating than usual. You had been feeling this way more often lately, especially with the increasing demands of work and social obligations. But this coffee shop, your sanctuary, offered a reprieve from the chaos.

You took a deep breath, focusing on the rhythmic beats in your ears and trying to steady yourself. Your latte sat in front of you, untouched, as you zoned out, attempting to tune out the world and find some semblance of peace. You knew you would need to leave eventually, but for now, you let yourself sink into the music and the calm atmosphere of the shop.

Meanwhile, Emily Engstler, your girlfriend, was finishing up her practice at the gym. She’d been thinking about you all day, sensing through your texts that you were having one of those tough days. Emily understood you better than anyone—she’d seen the way the world could be too much for you, how your senses sometimes became overloaded with stimuli. She had learned to read your mood and your needs, picking up on the little signs that others might miss.

After her last set, Emily grabbed her bag and quickly made her way to the locker room, eager to get to you. She knew where you’d be; you always went to the same coffee shop when you needed a break. It was your safe place, a haven where you could escape the noise and chaos of the world. Emily loved that about you—how you found comfort in familiar routines and spaces.

As she walked to the coffee shop, she thought about all the ways she could make your day better. Emily knew that sometimes, all you needed was someone to sit with you in silence, someone who understood without needing to ask questions. And she was more than happy to be that person for you.

When Emily finally arrived at the coffee shop, she paused outside the door, peering in through the window to spot you. Her heart swelled with affection as she saw you sitting there, headphones on, eyes closed, completely lost in your own world. She could tell from the slight tension in your shoulders and the way you clutched your coffee cup that you were still feeling overwhelmed.

Emily took a deep breath, steadying herself. She wanted to approach you in the right way, to ensure she didn’t add to your stress. So, she quietly pushed the door open, the bell above it chiming softly as she entered. She made her way over to you, her footsteps light and careful, not wanting to startle you.

As she reached your table, she gently touched your shoulder, her expression soft and reassuring. She waited patiently as you turned your head, your eyes widening in pleasant surprise at the sight of Emily. You quickly pulled off your headphones, a smile spreading across your face.

“Emily! What are you doing here?” you asked, your voice filled with genuine happiness.

“I wanted to see you,” she replied with a gentle smile. “I figured you might be here, so I thought I’d drop by.”

You nodded, feeling a sense of relief wash over you. Emily had a way of making everything feel okay, even on your hardest days. She always understood, never judged, and gave you the space you needed without making you feel like you were a burden.

“I’m glad you came,” you said softly, reaching out to take her hand. “It’s been a bit of a rough day.”

Emily squeezed your hand gently, her thumb rubbing soothing circles on the back of it. “I’m here now, okay? We can just sit here, or we can go for a walk. Whatever you need.”

You thought for a moment, considering her offer. The coffee shop was comforting, but being with Emily was even more so. “How about we stay here for a bit? I like it here with you.”

Emily nodded, sliding into the seat across from you. She watched as you put your headphones back on, knowing you needed them to help keep the sensory input at bay. She didn’t mind. She understood that sometimes words weren’t necessary, that just being together was enough.

The two of you sat in comfortable silence, the only sounds being the faint music from your headphones and the soft buzz of the coffee shop. Every so often, Emily would glance over at you, her heart swelling with affection. She loved you for who you were, every part of you, including the parts that made you different from everyone else.

After a while, you took off your headphones, placing them around your neck. “Thank you for being here, Emily,” you said, your voice barely above a whisper. “It means a lot to me.”

Emily reached across the table, taking your hand in hers again. “You never have to thank me for that, Y/N. I’m here because I want to be. Because I care about you, and I want to make sure you’re okay.”

You felt tears prick at the corners of your eyes, overwhelmed by the love and understanding that Emily always showed you. “I don’t know what I did to deserve someone like you,” you admitted, your voice thick with emotion.

Emily shook her head, her expression soft and full of love. “You don’t have to do anything to deserve it, Y/N. I love you for who you are, just as you are. And I’ll always be here for you, no matter what.”

A small smile tugged at your lips, and you squeezed her hand tightly. “I love you too, Emily. More than anything.”

The two of you sat there for a while longer, just enjoying each other’s company. You knew that no matter how overwhelming the world could be, as long as you had Emily by your side, you could face anything. With her, you felt understood, accepted, and most importantly, loved.

As the minutes passed, Emily noticed you visibly relaxing. Your shoulders weren’t as tense, and the worry lines on your forehead had smoothed out. It was a small victory, but one that filled her with pride. She loved seeing you at ease, knowing that her presence could help you feel more grounded.

“Hey,” Emily said softly, breaking the silence. “How about we get out of here for a bit? There’s a park nearby with a quiet walking trail. It might be nice to get some fresh air.”

You considered her suggestion, nodding slowly. “Yeah, that sounds good. I think I could use a change of scenery.”

Emily smiled, standing up and holding out her hand to help you up. “Let’s go, then. We’ll take it slow, okay?”

You took her hand, grateful for her thoughtfulness. As the two of you left the coffee shop, Emily kept you close, her hand resting gently on the small of your back. She guided you toward the park, her pace relaxed and unhurried.

Once you reached the park, the cool breeze and the rustling of leaves provided a soothing backdrop. You walked side by side with Emily, occasionally brushing against each other as you navigated the winding path. The quiet nature of the park was a welcome contrast to the busy coffee shop, and you found yourself taking deep, calming breaths as you walked.

Emily kept an eye on you, watching for any signs of discomfort. She knew that being outdoors could sometimes be just as overwhelming as being in a crowded space, but today seemed to be different. You looked more at ease, your steps lighter and your expression serene.

“Feeling a bit better?” Emily asked, glancing over at you.

You nodded, a small smile on your lips. “Yeah, I think so. Thank you for suggesting this. I really needed it.”

Emily squeezed your hand, her smile widening. “I’m glad it’s helping. You know, you don’t always have to face these things alone. I’m here for you, always.”

You stopped walking, turning to face Emily. “I know. And I’m so grateful for that, Emily. You have no idea how much it means to me to have someone who understands.”

Emily’s eyes softened, and she reached out to cup your cheek with her hand. “I’m just glad I can be here for you. You mean the world to me, Y/N. I’ll always do whatever I can to make sure you’re okay.”

You leaned into her touch, closing your eyes for a moment as you savored the comfort of her presence. “I love you so much, Emily. Thank you for being my rock.”

Emily leaned in, pressing a gentle kiss to your forehead. “I love you too, Y/N. More than you’ll ever know.”

The two of you continued walking, enjoying the peacefulness of the park and the comfort of each other’s company. You knew that with Emily by your side, you could face any challenge that came your way. She was your anchor in a stormy sea, and you couldn’t imagine your life without her.

As the sun began to set, casting a warm glow over the park, you and Emily found a bench to sit on. You leaned against her, resting your head on her shoulder as she wrapped an arm around you. For the first time in what felt like ages, you felt completely at ease, knowing that you were loved and understood by someone who truly cared.

And in that moment, sitting with Emily under the fading light of the day, you knew that everything was going to be okay.

.....................................................

#emily engstler x reader #wbb #wnba basketball #wbb x reader #wnba x reader

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talesofadragon · 9 months

Text

𝐓𝐡𝐞𝐬𝐞 𝐅𝐨𝐫𝐬𝐚𝐤𝐞𝐧 𝐓𝐫𝐮𝐭𝐡𝐬

Synopsis: Receiving wind that Hydra has successfully managed to awaken another wave of winter soldiers, Captain America appoints his two best avengers, Bucky Barnes and Y/N Y/L/N, for the job. But aside from Bucky’s trepidation at reliving his worst memories, there’s something else rooting him in his place–the fear of inflicting harm on the woman he loves the most. Between her encouraging words and his violent past, what will happen when Y/N is forced to encounter her boyfriend’s alter ego?

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Enhanced!Reader

Warnings: Angst | Fluff

𝐓𝐡𝐞𝐬𝐞 𝐅𝐨𝐫𝐬𝐚𝐤𝐞𝐧 𝐓𝐫𝐮𝐭𝐡𝐬 Masterlist | 𝐂𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝟏

𝐁𝐔𝐂𝐊𝐘 𝐒𝐎𝐔𝐆𝐇𝐓 𝐏𝐄𝐀𝐂𝐄. Ironically, considering his service as a soldier during World War II in the 107th Infantry Regiment. One might assume his story followed the typical trajectory of a veteran—a man who had served and preserved, giving his all until he had nothing left to lose nor gain.

Bucky faced wars in waves, losing his sense of direction as he battled the currents. Maybe the placidity he yearned for was because of the instabilities and perplexities he'd witnessed, though the peace he needed went far beyond that. From the moment he was reborn into this world, all he ever wanted was to find solace within the hurricane that had upended his life.

Bucky sought peace, yes. Peace within the chaos of his fractured realities.

The sky lit up, a white veil enveloping the night's somber hues. Its brilliance lingered for a fleeting moment before the darkness regained its dominion. Sometimes, Bucky wondered if the storms were a remedy or a curse. When the sky, such as tonight, wailed and bled, and when the clouds tore themselves up to bits and pieces, was the chaos some twisted form of peace? Or was it his fractured mind pitifully attempting to shroud the truths with another veiled deception?

Rain dropped down in fervor, droplets finding themselves on Bucky’s skin. A part of him told him to move away and give the sky some space to grieve. Another rebutted that he should stay to remind the heavens that they’re not alone.

He raised his head, feeling the water droplets on his face, allowing them to delicately trace his features. The storm was ravenous, tumultuous, mutinous—everything a winter turbulence should be, everything the winter soldier in him was.

And yet, the damned poets he’d read about weren’t too far off in their exuberant analogies, comparing a winter storm to a peaceful spring. As polarizing as it was, there was a certain peace to its violence—a peace that Bucky could experience extrospectively but never conversely.

“James,” he heard behind him. This voice, perhaps, was the nearest semblance of personal tranquility he could reach. It permeated his skin, nestled in every nucleus, exuding an air of calmness and hope. He cherished it when she called him by his name. It was her personal term of endearment. To the world, he was several things: Sergeant Barnes, Bucky, and The Winter Soldier. But to Y/N, his precious Y/N, he was James. And he loved her even more for the simple yet profound reminder.

“I’m scared,” he admitted in a shy whisper, playing with his fingers. Truths came easy with her, despite how he grappled with them in his solitary battles. “Going there… going there will trigger a lot of bad memories. It might even trigger him, too.”

Y/N stepped closer, placing her palm on his left arm. His metal arm. She didn’t miss the way Bucky shut his eyes, which is why her thumb traced invisible shapes on the prosthetic. “You don’t have to go there, baby. You don’t have to do anything if your heart’s not in it.”

“But you’ll be there. I can’t…. I won’t for the life of me let you wander around in that monstrous prison world without me. Especially with all those people there.” Bucky’s lower lip trembled as he spoke. His blue eyes harbored a thousand emotions. Peace, fortitude, courage… they all fought waves of anguish and despair. But love, concern, and fear all remained afloat.

“James,” Y/N whispered delicately, framing his cheeks with her gentle hands. Bucky nuzzled in her open palms, his lips brushing against her skin. His eyes captured her in an everlasting glance, filled with so much devotion. “I don’t want you to relive your worst nightmare because of me. Yes, you are our primary knowledge hub when it comes to Hydra, but you’re also a part of our family. We would never want to harm you. I would never want to harm you or cause you despair.”

“You could never,” Bucky answered, his hands falling from the railing and finding their place on her hips. He suddenly became aware that she was wearing no more than his Henley and a pair of pajama bottoms in the middle of this storm. So, he pulled her closer and buried her face in his chest.

“I can go with Steve, maybe even Nat. You don’t have to do this. You–”

“It’s not the memories I fear most, angel.”

“Then what is it?” Y/N asked, raising her head to meet his eyes without stepping out of his embrace. “Is it those soldiers they have created?”

Bucky stared at the falling rain, realizing that the two of them had drifted away from the sliding door’s overhang, which shielded Y/N. He tried to step back, but she must’ve falsely interpreted it as his attempt at fleeing because she tightened her hold on him.

He brushed a strand of her damp hair behind her ear, his thumbs tracing her pink cheek. “What if he comes back?”

“Say his name aloud,” Y/N encouraged. “It’s okay, baby.”

He gulped, closing his eyes for a moment. “The Winter Soldier.” Heaven knew he didn’t want to, and maybe that’s why this whole storm had assaulted New York this evening.

Y/N, on the other hand, didn’t seem to think the same. Calmly, she lifted herself on her toes to kiss his beard, nestling her head in the junction between his neck and shoulder. “The Winter Soldier is what you make him out to be.”

“He’s a murderer,” Bucky spat, his hold on Y/N tightening as if the simple mention of the Soldat would breathe him back to life.

Y/N shook her head. “He’s you.”

“He’s not me, Y/N!” Bucky pried himself away, giving her an indignant look. “He’s a homicidal menace that will not hesitate to rip you apart without a second thought!”

Y/N tried to step closer, but Bucky flinched. He involuntarily retreated back, his cerulean eyes rimmed with despair and hurt. Y/N shook her head, locking her eyes with his. “The Winter Soldier is James Buchanan Barnes. A man that has never stopped fighting, not even for a second. He may be bruised, erratic, and damaged. But he’s not a monster. Not in my story.”

“Y/N,” Bucky all but growled, keeping as much distance between himself and the girl. “You have no idea how twisted these words sound. You won’t even have a chance to take them back or change your mind when he all but attacks you and rips your heart out of your chest like some goddamn fucking prize without even taking his eyes off yours!”

“My heart is his for the taking.” Bucky’s mind spiraled out of control. “As much as it is yours. He and you are one. What I feel for you, I feel for him.”

“Don’t, Y/N.”

Ignoring his comment, Y/N took his hands in hers before he had the chance to run away. “If you cannot see your true worth through your own eyes, James, then see it through my own. Every part of you is worthy. You and The Winter Soldier are heroes in your unique ways, each fighting different battles to find a missing piece of yourself. So, if you’re so afraid that being there will trigger the worst parts of you, then I will whisper to you both all the truth you need to hear until you find your way back to me. Back home.”

“You’re my home,” Bucky whispered, caressing her cheek. He dipped his head, his nose caressing Y/N’s. A second passed, and he allowed himself to bask in her warmth, losing himself in the ardency of her love. His lips delicately traced her berry-flavored ones, claiming them against his own. “I love you,” he almost cried, fearing he might lose her. His mouth wrapped around her lower lip, sucking it fervently and inhaling in all the devotion he held toward his girl. “You're my sanctuary, my peace. And I don’t want my own violent dispositions to threaten the home that I’ve built with you.”

“James,” Y/N mumbled breathlessly, tears on the edge of her lashes. She pressed one more fervent kiss against his lips, resting her hand on his heart to remind him once more that he could feel. That he was human. “I love you in all your nuances and dispositions. No matter who you are or who you think you ought to be, you'll always be my home."

Bucky smiled endearingly, taking Y/N’s hand in his. He kissed her knuckles, one by one, before planting his lips on her wrist. With a final glance at her eyes, Bucky led her inside their shared bedroom, relishing in the feeling of her between his arms.

He closed his eyes with the images of her in his mind, forgetting all about Hydra and The Winter Soldier. It was tomorrow’s nightmare, but Y/N was tonight’s dream, and that’s all that mattered.

BUCKY IS BACK!!

I have so many ideas for this man, and we're starting with this short little series. If you're a fan of hurt/comfort and The Winter Soldier coming out to play, welcome to this maze of truths!!

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Bucky Barnes Taglist: @ye0nvibezzn

: ̗̀➛ Read Chapter 2 - CHAOS - here!!

#bucky x reader #bucky barnes #bucky x y/n #bucky x female reader #bucky x you #bucky fanfic #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes x you #bucky barnes imagine #winter soldier #winter soldier x reader #winter soldier x you #marvel fanfiction #avengers fanfiction #winter soldier!bucky #winter soldier relapse #winter soldier x y/n #bucky barnes fanfiction

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deliciousangelfestival · 4 months

Text

Let Me Love You - 7

Character: college!Bucky x Female!Reader

Summary: On a mysterious, rainy night, Bucky witnesses a distressing encounter involving his crush.

Chapter 1 , Chapter 2 , Chapter 3 , Chapter 4 , Chapter 5 , Chapter 6 , Chapter 7 , Chapter 8.

Main Masterlist || support: Ko-fi

Thank you to everyone who has read this chapter. Please let me know what your thoughts are. I'd love to hear your feedback. Thank you once again.

Lloyd scanned the campus frantically, searching for Nicky. Desperation clawed at him as he pulled out his phone and checked the friend circle for any recent photos.

She was tagged in a picture at a nearby café with her girlfriends. Gritting his teeth, he broke into a run.

When he reached the café, he spotted her immediately. Nicky was laughing with her friends, completely oblivious to the chaos she had caused.

The sight of her carefree demeanor fueled his anger, knowing she didn't care that she had almost ruined someone's life.

"Nicky!" he shouted, his voice trembling with fury. The entire café fell silent, all eyes turning towards him.

Nicky's laughter faded as she met Lloyd's blazing gaze, realizing that her actions were about to catch up with her.

"You selfish bitch. You can't be trusted," Lloyd spat, his voice shaking with anger and frustration.

Nicky looked up, feigning innocence. "What?" she replied, trying to mask her guilt with a confused expression.

Lloyd couldn't believe that he had lost you because of this selfish woman. "It's you," he accused, his eyes burning with betrayal.

Nicky tried to maintain her composure but couldn't hide the tremble coursing through her body as she faced Lloyd's wrath. For the first time, she realized the true impact of her actions.

Nicky crossed her arms, trying to regain some semblance of control. "I will tell my father to stop sponsoring you," she threatened, her voice icy.

Lloyd smirked, stepping closer until she recoiled back into her chair. "Do it. I don't care. I got here because of my own effort," he retorted, his voice steady and defiant.

Without another word, he turned and walked away, leaving Nicky seething. Realizing her threat had no effect, she clenched her coffee mug in frustration, her carefully constructed facade of power shattered.

🌊

Feeling overwhelmed with misery, you had lost the will to join the class and were sitting alone in a quiet place behind the university pond.

Consumed by your thoughts, you didn't notice Bucky approaching until he spoke. "Y/N, do you need anything?"

Surprised, you saw him standing there, slightly out of breath. He had been searching the campus to find you.

You kept looking at him, taken aback by his question. Instead of asking if you were okay, he asked what you needed.

With a weak smile, you patted the empty spot beside you. "I need someone to talk to."

Bucky nodded and sat down next to you. "Of course."

You sighed, your eyes still fixed on the water pond in front of you. "I'm so mad and embarrassed that everyone will know about my mom. I've been through that already. I hate the pitying looks I get every time people from my hometown see me and my mom."

You closed your eyes, the memories flooding back. "I hate those looks. Their judging eyes."

Bucky gently placed his hand on your shoulder, offering silent support.

Bucky placed a comforting hand on your shoulder. "It won't happen to you."

You frowned. "What do you mean? You didn't see the looks they gave me this morning."

Bucky shook his head. "It wasn't you who should be ashamed and hide. It's the person who put it on the campus homepage."

He continued, "Every family has its own problems, and this person used yours to attack you."

His words were reassuring. You realized he was right—you hadn't done anything wrong.

Seeing that you had calmed down a bit, Bucky added, "I've contacted the campus IT department to check the IP address. Not many people have access to publish articles on that homepage. We'll soon find out who that person is."

You gave him a small, grateful smile. "Thank you, Bucky."

Your smile made Bucky's heartbeat quicken. He didn't expect your next words.

"You're a good person, Bucky. I'm grateful that you care for me."

Bucky stammered, "Oh... That's what friends—"

You let out a weak laugh. "I'm not that dense, Bucky. You're always there for me."

Bucky looked at you earnestly. "I will try anything to help you."

Your heart felt warm at his words. After that, neither spoke, but there was a silent agreement that something was blooming between you two.

Both of you were lost in the moment, unaware that someone was watching you from a distance with a look of agony.

That person was Lloyd.

Lloyd had been looking everywhere for you, his frustration growing with each passing minute. Unable to reach you by phone since you had blocked him, he searched the campus tirelessly.

When he finally found you, it was only to see you from behind.

Watching you sit beside someone else, leaning on Bucky for support, made it painfully clear that he had already lost you.

It should have been him comforting you, just like he had when your parents went through their painful divorce.

He remembered being there for you through thick and thin, and the realization that he had thrown it all away hit him like a punch to the gut.

Now seeing you with someone else, Lloyd felt a surge of nausea rise within him. The sight of you finding solace in another's presence was like a dagger to his heart.

But what could he do now? Everything had crumbled because of him. He cheated on you, and now he had to face the consequences of his actions.

With heavy steps, Lloyd turned and walked away, the weight of his regret weighing him down. He knew he had lost you, and there was nothing he could do to change that now.

📱

Bucky drove you back to your apartment, but before that, he made sure you ate something first. He didn't want you to get sick.

You chuckled at Bucky's motherly instincts, finding comfort in his caring nature.

As you settled back into your apartment, thoughts of your mother crept into your mind. You wondered how she was doing, and if she knew what had happened to you.

Deciding to take a shower to clear your head, you washed your hair with cold water, hoping to soothe your thoughts.

The moment you stepped out of the bathroom, your cell phone rang. Despite not wanting to talk to anyone, you recognized the specific ringtone you had set for one person in your contacts.

Taking a deep breath, you answered, "Hi dad."

Your father, Matthew, had moved out to the city after the divorce from your mother, driven by his guilt for betraying his wife and you. It was, in a way, his way of running away from his mistakes.

Despite the distance, Matthew had kept in touch with you, occasionally offering to pay your school tuition as a gesture of remorse.

However, you had always declined, still harboring anger towards him. Instead, you asked him to send the money for your mother's treatment, a way for him to contribute positively to the family.

Now, out of the blue, he was calling you.

"I heard what happened," he said solemnly.

Surprised, you asked, "How did you know?"

"Don't worry about that," he replied. "They made a big mistake for making my daughter cry."

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Author Note:

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writeriguess · 30 days

Text

The Umbrella Academy mansion was unusually quiet that evening. Most of the Hargreeves siblings had retreated to their own corners of the mansion, leaving you alone in the expansive living room. You had been working on a personal project—something to distract yourself from the chaotic life that came with being part of the Academy.

As you were lost in your thoughts, you heard the soft click of a door opening and looked up to see Five Hargreeves walking in. He had that familiar, intense look in his eyes, a mixture of curiosity and weariness from his time-traveling escapades.

“Hey, [Y/N],” Five greeted, his voice carrying that familiar hint of annoyance, but also a touch of warmth. “I didn’t expect anyone to be up this late.”

You looked up from your work with a smile. “Hey, Five. Just working on a few things. What about you? Still trying to fix the timeline?”

Five sighed and walked over to the fireplace, leaning against the mantel with an air of tired frustration. “You could say that. Time travel is as messy as ever. I was hoping for a bit of peace, but it seems elusive.”

You sensed that he needed a break from the endless complexities of his life. “Well, it’s quiet here. Maybe a change of pace could help. Want to talk about it? Or do you prefer some company in silence?”

Five considered this for a moment, his gaze softening slightly. “I suppose a break wouldn’t hurt. What’s your project about?”

You gestured to the scattered papers and sketches on the coffee table. “Just working on a creative project. It helps me unwind, especially with everything going on.”

Five raised an eyebrow, his curiosity piqued. “Creative project, huh? What are you working on?”

You explained your project—a personal art piece inspired by the mansion and its surroundings. Five listened intently, his usual skepticism giving way to genuine interest.

“That sounds intriguing,” Five admitted. “I never really understood art, but I can appreciate the need for an outlet, especially when dealing with... well, everything we deal with.”

You smiled, feeling a bit more at ease. “Yeah, it’s a way to make sense of things, or at least find a bit of peace. Maybe it’s not as chaotic as time travel, but it has its own way of keeping me grounded.”

Five moved closer to get a better look at your work. “It’s nice to see you finding solace in something. Sometimes, we need those moments of calm to remind us why we keep going.”

You nodded, appreciating his words. “Exactly. And sometimes, sharing those moments can make them even more meaningful.”

There was a brief silence, and then Five, seemingly caught up in the moment, reached into his pocket and pulled out a small, intricate pocket watch. He placed it gently on the table, the golden surface catching the dim light of the room.

“This,” Five said, his voice softening, “is one of the few things that hasn’t been messed up by time. It’s a reminder of what I’m fighting for—some semblance of normalcy, even if it’s just a small, perfect moment.”

You looked at the pocket watch, admiring its craftsmanship. “It’s beautiful. A symbol of everything you’ve been through.”

Five’s eyes met yours, and for a moment, the usual walls he put up seemed to come down. “Yeah, it’s been through a lot, just like me. It’s a reminder that even in the midst of all the chaos, there are moments worth holding onto.”

You reached out and touched the pocket watch gently. “Thank you for sharing this with me, Five. It’s nice to see a different side of you.”

Five looked at you, a hint of a smile on his lips. “I suppose it’s nice to share once in a while. Especially with someone who understands the value of a quiet moment.”

The two of you spent the rest of the evening talking and sharing stories, the quiet of the mansion providing a rare opportunity for connection. Five’s usual intensity gave way to a more relaxed demeanor, and you found yourself appreciating his company in a way you hadn’t before.

As the night grew late, you and Five stood by the fireplace, the warmth of the fire adding to the sense of calm. Five glanced at the clock on the wall, then back at you.

“I should probably get some rest,” he said, though he didn’t seem eager to leave. “But thanks for the company. It’s been a nice change of pace.”

You smiled, feeling a sense of gratitude for the unexpected connection. “Anytime, Five. It’s nice to have moments like these, away from all the chaos.”

Five nodded, his expression thoughtful. “Yeah, it is. And who knows? Maybe there will be more moments like this.”

As he turned to leave, you felt a renewed sense of understanding and camaraderie. In the midst of the Hargreeves family’s whirlwind of events, it was these quiet, genuine interactions that made everything feel a little more grounded.

And as you settled back into your work, you carried with you the warmth of the evening—a reminder that even amidst the complexities of time and existence, there were moments of connection and solace to be found.

#five hargreeves x reader

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fanficapologist · 4 days

Text

Of Dragons and Maelstroms

Themes and Warnings: slow burn, enemies to lovers, blood, violence, explicit language, sexual violence, period-typical misogyny, sexual themes, smut, tension, marriage, jealousy, pregnancy, childbirth, miscarriage, attempted sexual assault, breastfeeding, major character death, divergent timelines

Disclaimer: I do not own any of the House of The Dragon/Fire & Blood/Game of Thrones characters nor do I claim to own them. I do not own any of the images used nor do I claim to own them.

Chapter One Hundred

Despite the turmoil swirling around the realm, the days on Dragonstone seemed almost deceptively calm. The once heavy grey clouds that had hung over the island for weeks began to thin, allowing the sun to break through and bathe the volcanic rock in rare warmth. The sea that surrounded the fortress shimmered under the soft sunlight, casting fleeting illusions of peace. It was as if nature itself offered a brief respite from the tension of the looming war.

Maera felt that shift as well, both in her surroundings and within herself. The wound on her arm had completely healed, the scar barely visible now. The pain had faded, replaced by a newfound energy. She was no longer bound by recovery and was eager to return to the skies on dragonback, contributing to the war effort and finding time for herself.

Since Prince Daeron had flown south to the Stormlands, Maera had been assigned a new route—across the western side of the Narrow Sea. Her task was crucial: she needed to ensure the fleet of Morne was prepared and positioned for the eventual attack on the Capital when the time came.

Yet even though she embraced the odd tranquility, the betrayal of the Dragonseeds loomed over every decision. Hugh Hammer and Ulf the White’s defection had thrown their carefully laid plans into disarray. There was no longer a definitive timeline for the invasion. The uncertainty gnawed at the Green Council, but they were not without recourse.

A newly formed faction of nobles, led by the cunning Lord Unwin Peake, now called themselves the Caltrops. Their singular goal: to assassinate Hugh and Ulf and restore order. It was a delicate operation, one they carefully plotted, keeping the Green Council informed but biding their time until the perfect moment to strike.

Despite the complications caused by the rogue Dragonseeds, not all plans had been derailed. The Hand, Ser Criston Cole, had already departed for the Riverlands, where he was gathering and readying the ground troops. For now, all Maera and the other players in this intricate game of power could do was wait. It was a tense lull, the kind that stretched nerves thin and made every small action feel laden with weight amongst the remaining members of the Green Council.

In the meantime, Maera turned her attention to her other duties, filling her days with tasks that would otherwise have been mundane but now served as distractions. Her Ladies were a constant presence, helping her maintain some semblance of normalcy amidst the chaos. Lady Fossoway, ever diligent, had already begun making small preparations for the formal ceremony to name Prince Daeron as the official Prince of Dragonstone.

Though the event was still some time away, there was much to consider: the banners, the guests, the feast. Each detail needed careful planning, and Lady Fossoway took to the task with a seriousness that reflected the gravity of the moment. The announcement would solidify Daeron’s place within the Targaryen dynasty, an acknowledgment of his role should Aemond not have a son.

Lady Swyft, on the other hand, busied herself with Maera’s wardrobe. Having noticed that many of the Queen’s dresses had become uncomfortably tight around her hips and bust, she took it upon herself to remedy the situation. Seamstresses were summoned, and fabrics were examined, discussed, and chosen with care. The women muttered and measured, their deft fingers working to let out seams and add panels where needed. The changes were subtle yet necessary, for Maera’s figure had grown fuller once more.

The Queen’s lady assured her that it was normal, for a woman’s body to change after childbirth, and that noblewomen often found their figures altered even moons after they had given birth. Tiredness created hunger, she explained kindly, which led to eating more, and in turn, a little weight gain. It was nothing to be ashamed of, Lady Swyft insisted, even hinting that it could be healthy.

Maera tried to take comfort in her words, telling herself that it did not bother her. After all, she had given birth to Aemara, a child of dragon’s blood and royal lineage. Such changes were a small price to pay for the continuation of their house. Yet, each time Lady Swyft brought in a newly altered gown, panels and extra stitching added to accommodate her changing shape, Maera couldn’t help but feel a pang of self-consciousness. She saw it in the way the fabric hugged her now fuller hips, the way the bodices strained slightly against her enlarged bust.

In the quiet moments, when she was alone in her chambers, Maera found herself scrutinizing her reflection. The mirror offered an unflinching gaze at the woman she had become, a Queen in the midst of war, a rider of a gigantic and fearsome dragon, a mother to a Targaryen princess, and a wife to a king. She traced her fingers along the seams of her altered gowns, feeling every added inch as though it marked some personal failing.

Lady Vance, the elderly and old-fashioned courtier, took it upon herself to lecture the Queen on the matter of vanity and self-acceptance. In her stern and matronly manner, she insisted that such conceit should not be acknowledged, reminding Maera that women were as the Mother had made them, and it was a woman’s duty to accept her form with grace. Lady Vance’s words were filled with an unwavering certainty that came from years of strict adherence to tradition and piety, but they did little to comfort Maera.

One person who did understand Maera’s struggles on a personal level was Lady Tarth, who had become known by given name, Serenne. In the last few months, the young lady had become more than just the Queen’s secretary. She had become a confidante, a friend in the truest sense. The two women found solace in each other’s company, often spending time together when the other Ladies were busy with their duties.

Most of their time was spent in the large nursery of Dragonstone, a haven away from the prying eyes and expectations of the court. Here, they would sit on the plush rugs and thick blankets, surrounded by the soft sounds of their children at play. Aemara, now nearing eight months old, was beginning to explore the world on her hands and knees. The little princess crawled around on the carpet, her tiny fingers reaching out to grasp at the colorful toys that lay scattered around her. Her laughter filled the room, a sweet and innocent sound that brought a warmth to Maera’s heart.

Lady Serenne’s son, affectionately called ‘little Bryn’ by Maera, was just as happy to play amidst the abundance of toys that had been provided for them. He was a curious child, with eyes that seemed to take in everything around him with a quiet intelligence. While Aemara explored her surroundings with the wide-eyed wonder of a child discovering the world for the first time, Bryn was content to sit amidst his treasures, stacking blocks and inspecting each toy with a focused determination.

As their children played, Maera and Lady Serenne would engage in hours of conversation. They would sit together, sipping tea and sharing the latest gossip from court, their voices kept low so as not to disturb the children, who were diligently being watched by a nursemaid.

In these moments, the Queen felt a sense of normalcy, a fleeting escape from the weight of her crown. The discussions would range from lighthearted anecdotes about the children’s latest antics to more serious matters, such as the subtle undercurrents of political maneuvering that never seemed to rest, even in times of supposed peace.

Lady Serenne, with her kind blue eyes and empathetic nature, offered Maera a comfort that no one else could. She understood, perhaps better than anyone, the struggles that came with balancing the roles of mother, wife, and noblewoman. There was no judgment in her gaze, no lectures or admonishments about vanity or duty. Just a shared understanding that in this ever-changing world, they were both doing their best to navigate the expectations placed upon them.

In the nursery, amidst the laughter and soft babble of their children, the world outside seemed a little less daunting. For a few hours each day, the war, the politics, and the constant scrutiny faded into the background, leaving only the simple joys of motherhood and friendship.

“I cannot believe Bryn will be two years old this year,” Lady Serenne commented, her eyes crinkling with a smile as she picked up a small sandwich from the tray between them, taking a delicate bite.

The Queen nodded in agreement. “I know. Time seems so go quicker when you become a mother I think.”

As Maera spoke, her thoughts drifted inward, silently reflecting on just how much time had passed and yet how little it felt. It wasn’t that long ago, in her memory at least, when she had sat with Helaena, watching over Jaehaerys, Jaehaera and Maelor as they played together in the nursery of King’s Landing. Those moments, filled with laughter and innocent joy, were so vivid in her mind that they felt like they had happened just yesterday. It was a simpler time, before the war, before the loss and betrayal that had shattered their world.

The memory of Helaena, her old friend, and the soft peace they had found in those stolen moments, made Maera’s heart ache with longing. Those tender memories were like fragile glass, precious and breakable, and the reality that such moments could never happen again weighed heavily on her. Even if they did rescue Helaena, things could never return to how they once were.

Her reverie was abruptly interrupted by a high-pitched shriek of frustration. Maera’s eyes snapped to the scene before her as Bryn, determined and quick, toddled over to where Aemara was playing. Without hesitation, he snatched a toy from the little princess’s grasp. Aemara responded immediately, her face scrunching up in a mix of surprise and indignation before she let out an angry wail. The sound echoed through the nursery, drawing the attention of both mothers.

Lady Serenne was on her feet in an instant, moving to sit beside her son and scold him. “Bryndemere,” she chided in a firm yet gentle voice, pulling the toy from his hand and returning it to Aemara, who grasped it tightly, still pouting but quieting down under her mother’s comforting gaze. The Lady turned back to Maera, her cheeks flushed with a mixture of embarrassment and amusement.

“I apologize, Your Grace,” she said with a light laugh, trying to diffuse the situation with humor. “Clearly, my son has yet to learn the proper courtly etiquette when interacting with a princess.”

Maera chuckled softly, shaking her head. “No harm done,” she replied, her gaze softening as she watched the two children. Aemara, for her part, had already moved on from the slight, her attention now fixed on the toy in her hands, seemingly satisfied with its return.

Lady Serenne sighed, settling back down beside Maera. “In truth,” she mused, “I think his older sisters are happy to be rid of him at the moment.”

Maera giggled at the comment, shaking her head in amusement. “I think all brothers, older or younger, have an innate talent for being incredibly annoying,” she replied, her tone light and teasing as she pictured all of her brothers, some she loved with all her heart, others she was content with being away from.

Just as they shared a laugh, Maera felt a small tug on her skirts. She glanced down to see little Bryn gazing up at her with wide, earnest eyes, his tiny finger pointing eagerly toward the table where the food lay just out of his reach. Maera grinned, unable to resist the boy’s charm. She reached down to ruffle his golden curls affectionately before handing him a small sandwich. Bryn accepted the offering with a delighted smile, toddling away to return to his toys with his prize clutched tightly in his small hand.

“Well,” Maera began, turning her attention back to Lady Serenne, “do you and Lord Edmure plan on having more children?” Her question was curious, genuine interest in her voice.

Lady Serenne laughed, shaking her head with a mixture of amusement and relief. “Thankfully, the Gods have spared me from such a fate,” she replied, a hint of irony in her tone.

Maera tilted her head in confusion, not quite understanding. “What do you mean?” she asked, her brow furrowed slightly.

With a soft sigh, Lady Serenne explained, “I already have four older daughters, all so close in age. And when Bryn was born, it was… difficult.” Her eyes clouded briefly with the memory, but her voice remained steady. “The Maester said that due to the birth, it’s highly unlikely I’ll have any more children.”

Maera watched her face closely, expecting to see sorrow or regret, but to her surprise, Lady Serenne seemed content, perhaps even a little relieved. There was a peace in her expression, a quiet acceptance of her circumstances.

“And you, Your Grace?” The Queen was snapped out of her contemplations by the sound of Lady Serenne’s voice, cutting through the quiet with a playful lilt.

“How goes…making an heir for the King?” She giggled, her golden curls bouncing with the motion, and there was an unmistakable teasing light in her expression.

Maera rolled her eyes, unable to suppress a smile at her Lady’s cheeky inquiry. “The King and I are quite set on performing our duties,” she replied with mock seriousness, though the corners of her lips quirked upwards, betraying her amusement.

As they shared in the lighthearted banter, Maera found her thoughts drifting inwardly. Since Aemond had recommitted himself to her in the ways of Old Valyria, reaffirming their bond in that ancient and sacred tradition, it seemed as though their relationship had been forged anew in the fire of their shared trials and tribulations.

Their time together had become precious, a refuge amidst the storm. They cherished the moments spent with Aemara, watching their daughter grow and change with each passing day. And then there were the nights, the intimacy between them more intense and consuming than it had been in months. Aemond’s touch was both demanding and tender, their passion igniting like wildfire each time they came together. It was surprising, really, that she wasn’t with child again already, considering how often they indulged in their desires.

“Yet my moons blood has not come since I have given birth,” the Queen explained to her companion. While this was something that could worry some, she felt a sense of relief about it. The monthly bleeding was not something she missed. “And I’ve read that it returning means you are fit to breed again,” Maera added with a small, nonchalant shrug.

“I see “ Lady Serenne acknowledged quietly, but something in her tone made Maera glance at her. The Lady’s expression had changed, a frown marring her usually cheerful face. Her brows knitted together, and she looked as though she was deep in thought, her gaze fixed on the floor.

“What is it?” Maera asked gently, noticing the sudden shift in her demeanor. Lady Serenne continued to avoid her gaze, nervously biting her lip. It was as if she was holding something back, struggling with whether or not to say what was on her mind. Maera reached out, placing a reassuring hand on her arm. “You can speak freely, Serenne,” she encouraged softly.

The Lady-in-waiting took a deep breath, gathering her thoughts before finally speaking. “Your Grace, it’s just… what you said about the moonsblood,” she began cautiously. “It happened to me, as well, after I gave birth to Bryn.” Her voice was quiet, almost hesitant. “It was how the Maester knew we could no longer conceive.”

“Oh,” was all the Queen could manage in response, her thoughts suddenly reeling. The information was startling, and she hadn’t considered the possibility before. The lack of her moonsblood had been a convenience in her mind, a reprieve from the physical toll of motherhood so soon after Aemara’s birth. But now, hearing Serenne’s story, it took on a different significance.

Sensing the Maera’s concern, Lady Serenne quickly waved her hands in a defensive yet reassuring manner. "No, no, Your Grace, please don’t worry," she said earnestly. "It may not be the case for you. After all, you are nobly feeding your daughter yourself, and I gave Bryn to our wet nurse as soon as he was born. That can make a difference, or so I’ve been told."

Despite her friend's attempt to soothe her fears, Maera couldn't help the worry that settled into the pit of her stomach. If Aemara was to be her only child, how would Aemond react? He adored their daughter, that much was certain, but a king needed a son to carry on his legacy, to secure the future of his reign. The thought of Aemond’s disappointment made Maera's heart clench. His desire for an heir, like all noble men, was strong, and though their bond had grown, the pressure of producing a son had always been an unspoken expectation.

The Queen chewed her lip nervously, the small, anxious habit surfacing as her mind churned with these possibilities. What if this was it? What if she was unable to provide the heir Aemond—and the realm—expected of her? The idea of failing in this duty gnawed at her. She imagined the whispers that would spread through court, the scrutiny that would follow her every move, the shadow of her own inadequacy haunting her steps. Would Aemond’s affection for her endure if she couldn’t fulfill this one crucial role? The thought sent a chill down her spine.

Lost in these worries, she suddenly felt a gentle hand on her shoulder, grounding her back in the present. Maera looked up to see Lady Serenne’s concerned yet supportive gaze. "If you’re truly worried, my Queen," she said softly, her voice filled with genuine care, "you should speak to the Maester. He might be able to give you some answers, or at least some reassurance."

Maera nodded, the tightness in her chest easing just slightly at the reminder that she didn’t have to navigate this uncertainty alone. "Thank you, Lady Serenne," she replied quietly, offering her friend a small, grateful smile. "I think I will."

A sudden, wild squealing echoed from the carpet, drawing the women's attention away from their conversation. Maera and Lady Serenne looked down in surprise. Aemara had crawled over to Bryn, her chubby little fingers wrapped around the boy’s golden curls in a surprisingly firm grip. She pulled harshly, her tiny mouth open in a giggle of delight. Bryn, caught off guard, screamed in distress, his arms flailing as he tried to escape the unexpected assault. The nursemaid was quickly at their side, attempting to pry the children apart, but between Aemara’s strong grip and Bryn’s thrashing, she was having no such luck.

The Queen and her Lady exchanged a knowing glance and a smile before both gracefully slid off their chairs to sit on the carpet. With a practiced ease, Maera gently grasped her daughter's tiny hand, loosening her grip on Bryn’s curls. Lady Serenne reached for her son, pulling him safely into her lap and smoothing down his tousled hair. Aemara let out a disgruntled little sound as she was lifted away from her playmate, her violet eyes wide with innocent curiosity about why her new toy had been taken from her.

Both women comforted their children after the ordeal, laughing softly at the small drama that had unfolded. Maera bounced Aemara on her knee, whispering soothing words as she smoothed down the girl’s silver hair, while Lady Serenne rubbed Bryn’s back, murmuring reassurances into his ear.

Maera chuckled as she gestured to Bryn, who was now snuggled against his mother, looking slightly sulky but otherwise unharmed. "It seems your son will have his hands full with his future wife," she said with a grin, her eyes twinkling with amusement. Lady Serenne laughed in agreement, a sparkle of mirth in her gaze as she glanced between the two children, imagining the future where this fierce little princess and the gentle golden-haired boy would one day be something more than playmates.

"Indeed," Serenne replied with a playful sigh. "It appears he may need to grow accustomed to a strong-willed lady at his side." They shared a warm laugh, the brief chaos on the carpet serving as a charming reminder of the small joys and trials of motherhood amidst the surrounding storm of the war.

“What has your feathers ruffled, my Queen?”

It was late afternoon, and the halls of Dragonstone had fallen into a hushed calm. After a long morning of play and a satisfying feed, Aemara had finally been put down for her nap. The Queen had watched her daughter’s eyes flutter shut, a peaceful smile gracing the little girl’s face as she drifted into sleep. With her duties as a mother momentarily set aside, Maera now had other matters to attend to.

The corridors of Dragonstone were dimly lit, the grey stone walls lined with ancient tapestries depicting the history of House Targaryen. The heavy scent of sea salt hung in the air, mingling with the faint scent of burning wood from the hearths that warmed the castle’s interior. Shadows danced across the walls as the sunlight filtered through narrow windows, casting a warm golden hue over the cold stone floors.

Servants moved quietly about their tasks, the rustle of their garments and the soft patter of their footsteps echoing softly in the stillness. Maera acknowledged them with brief nods as they respectfully greeted her, her mind elsewhere, her thoughts spinning in a whirlwind of uncertainty. She walked beside her sworn guard and brother, Faran, whose vigilant eyes scanned the corridor ahead. His presence, usually a comfort, seemed to chafe at her now, only adding to the turmoil within her.

“Leave it alone, brother.”

Her earlier conversation with Lady Serenne had left her unnerved, stirring up fears she hadn’t fully realized she was harboring. The idea that she might not be able to bear another child had lodged itself into her thoughts like a splinter, small but impossible to ignore. Aemond’s expectations, the needs of the realm, and her own desires clashed within her, leaving her feeling trapped and restless.

Instead of confiding in someone about her growing concerns, Maera had chosen a different way to deal with the storm of emotions swirling within her. She had decided to work out her stress the only way she knew how to channel it—through physical exertion.

The Queen had donned her leathers, a comforting second skin that had seen her through many battles and training sessions. She pinned back her brown and silver curls with practiced ease, preparing for a sparring session with her brother. It was something they had not done since she was shot in the collarbone, but now with the wound healed, and the anxiety simmering within her turning into a boiling anger, she was determined to win this bout.

“Gods, there is a bug up your arse,” he chuckled, trying to provoke a response. “You better pray I don’t beat you today.”

But Maera was in no mood for his banter. Without looking at him, she firmly told him. “Faran, please, just shut up.” Her tone was icy, brooking no argument, and the sharpness of her words cut through the air between them.

Faran got the hint, his playful demeanor fading into a more serious silence. He respected her boundaries, for now, falling quiet for the rest of the walk to the courtyard. The silence between them was heavy, but Maera preferred it this way. She couldn’t talk about what was on her mind with him. He wouldn’t understand. He couldn’t. This was not a matter of battle strategy or court politics, but of something far more personal and profound—her worth as a queen, a wife, and a mother.

Turning a corner, Maera’s mind raced with thoughts of who else she could confide in. Her Ladies were supportive, but this was not a matter for idle gossip or comforting words. It required knowledge and discretion, and she was not yet ready to face the possibility of hearing something she wasn’t prepared to accept. The Maesters could give her answers, perhaps, but she was not ready to deal with possible bad news.

And besides, the walls had ears. She was certain Larys’s spies were scattered throughout the castle, their eyes and ears ever vigilant. If any whisper of possible infertility reached the court, it would be like blood in the water to sharks, weakening her position as Queen. It would give her enemies leverage, an opening they would not hesitate to exploit.

The siblings continued their walk through the corridors of Dragonstone in a heavy silence, the only sounds being the soft scuffs of their boots against the stone floor and the occasional distant murmur of servants. Maera was lost in her thoughts, mulling over the troubling possibilities swirling in her mind. Finally, they reached the courtyard, a familiar space where she could at least momentarily escape the chaos of her mind.

They began to warm up in silence, moving with the practiced ease of seasoned fighters. As Maera practiced her movements, her blade slicing through the air with practiced precision, she could feel her body falling into the familiar rhythm. Each swing, each pivot, was a reminder of her strength, of the control she still held over some aspects of her life. She lost herself in the movements, focusing on the feel of the sword in her hand and the way her muscles responded to each command.

But the silence was soon interrupted by Faran’s voice, cutting through her concentration. “Luthor wrote to me,” he revealed, his tone casual but with an edge of something else she couldn’t quite place. Maera’s brow furrowed, her rhythm faltering for just a heartbeat before she resumed her practice.

Their brother, married to one of Lord Borros Baratheon’s daughters, had not written in a month, despite Maera reaching out. She had assumed he was preoccupied with his duties at Storm’s End, busy with the ongoing preparations and politics. Yet he had found the time to write to Faran, but not to her? It made her pause, her mind now split between the movements of her sword and the curiosity mixed with irritation rising within her.

The Queen hummed in response, her sword cutting through the air with a sharp, decisive swing. “Is he well?” she asked, a hint of annoyance slipping into her voice despite her attempt to sound indifferent. The idea that their brother had written to Faran, choosing him as a confidant rather than her, grated on her nerves. She did not enjoy being kept in the dark, especially when it came to family matters.

She heard Faran clear his throat, a hesitation that made her sigh inwardly. Pausing in her routine, she turned her head to face him, her green eyes narrowing in scrutiny. His expression was pained, lines of discomfort etching across his usually composed face. The sight of it only deepened her confusion. “He’s not in a good place, Maera,” the Kingsguard finally spoke, his voice low and careful. His words made her pause, lowering her sword as she tilted her head, frowning.

Faran hesitated again before speaking, as if weighing the impact of his next words. “Lady Cassandra… she became with child,” he began, watching her closely. “But she miscarried a few weeks later.”

The Queen’s frown deepened, her chest tightening at the news. The weight of his words sank in slowly, a wave of empathy and sorrow washing over her. Luthor and Cassandra had been married for some time now, and she knew they had hoped for a child, one that would be the heir to Storms End as Lord Borros still did not have a son.

The loss of that hope was a heavy blow. Luthor had doted on Aemara when he was at Dragonstone, and Maera knew he had always wanted to be a father. She could almost feel the pain her brother must be enduring, the grief and disappointment, the unfulfilled promise of a future that had been cruelly snatched away. It was an experience she could barely fathom, and yet it resonated deeply with her own recent fears.

If Maera herself were to become pregnant again, if she even could, there was always the risk of losing the child, a risk many women faced. She had read in the medical tomes that repeated miscarriages could be a sign of deeper damage to the womb, an idea that sent a shiver of dread down her spine. Her mind raced with possibilities, each one darker than the last, amplifying the uncertainty that had already taken root in her heart.

She shook her head, forcing herself to pull away from the spiral of her own fears. Guilt tugged at her, reminding her that now was not the time to dwell on her selfish concerns. This was about Luthor, about the sorrow he must be feeling. She took a deep breath and focused on her brother standing before her, reminding herself to be present for him, for their family. “How is he coping?” she asked, her voice softer now, tinged with the genuine concern that lay beneath her own anxieties.

Faran’s expression darkened further. “Not well,” he admitted, his gaze dropping to the ground as if searching for the right words. “He’s taken himself off to the war front in the Stormlands.” The heaviness in his voice conveyed more than just worry—it was a mix of frustration and helplessness, emotions Maera understood all too well.

“War front?!” Her eyes widened in alarm, her heart skipping a beat. “He has no actual battle experience,” she said, her tone sharper than intended, a note of panic threading through her words. The thought of her brother throwing himself into the chaos of war, unprepared and driven by grief, was almost too much to bear.

“And yet that is where he wanted to be,” Faran replied with a tone of defeat. The weight of her brother’s grief pressed down on the Queen’s shoulders. This war was taking its toll on all of them, fracturing their family in ways she hadn’t anticipated. And now, with Luthor seeking refuge in the only way he knew how, the cost of their struggle became even more personal.

Her shoulders sagged, a heaviness settling into her bones. "Why didn’t he tell me?" she murmured, a mix of hurt and confusion in her voice. She and Luthor had always been close. Along with Faran, they had been the close knit trio of the large number of siblings, inseparable through childhood and beyond. The thought that Luthor was now facing something so devastating, and hadn’t reached out to her, cut deeper than she cared to admit.

A gentle hand rested on her shoulder, drawing her from her thoughts. She glanced up at Faran, whose eyes were filled with understanding. "He didn’t want to worry you," he said softly. His words were meant to comfort, but they only stirred her frustration.

Maera scoffed, rubbing her face with both hands. "But now I'm more worried than ever," she exclaimed, her voice rising in exasperation. "He’s run off to battle, for gods’ sake!" The idea of Luthor, untested and grieving, throwing himself into the fray made her stomach twist with anxiety. She imagined him amidst the blood and violence, his sorrow pushing him toward reckless decisions.

She sighed heavily, trying to release some of the tension coiling inside her. Gently, she placed her hand over Faran’s, squeezing it in a silent gesture of thanks. "Thank you for telling me," she said, her voice steadier now, though the concern lingered in her eyes. "I’ll write to him soon, once things have settled a bit." She knew words on a page wouldn’t be enough to reach him in his current state, but it was something, a thread of connection that she could offer.

Faran nodded, his gaze lingering on her for a moment before he stepped back, a familiar, cheeky grin slowly spreading across his face. "So," he said, unsheathing his sword with a flourish, "do you still plan on kicking my arse, or has all this talk dampened your fighting spirit?"

Maera couldn't help the laugh that bubbled up, a brief respite from the storm of emotions swirling within her. She unsheathed her own sword, the familiar weight of it grounding her. "Oh, I still plan on it," she declared, a glint of determination in her eyes. She positioned herself opposite her brother, ready to let the movement and focus of their sparring match drive away the worries, if only for a little while.

Notes: so we’ve got two or three more parts of Part Two left until we jump forward in time a lil bit. And it’s gunna get a hell of a lot darker 👀

Tags: @0eessirk8 @magicseahorse @blue-serendipity @abecerra611 @saltedcaramelpretzel @marvelescvpe @watercolorskyy @shesjustanothergeek @thelastemzy @kckt88 @darylandbethfanforever9

Thank you so much for reading! Comments, feedback, likes, and reblogs are greatly appreciated 🖤

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olivialau · 22 days

Text

Shadow's Embrace Ch.23

Sukuna x Reader

Disclaimer:

This is a work of fanfiction based on the universe of "Jujutsu Kaisen," created by Gege Akutami. The original manga, anime, and characters belong to their respective owners and creators.

Notes:

This story unfolds in the Jujutsu Kaisen world, set in a slightly altered universe where Sukuna inhabits his own vessel distinct from Itadori Yuji's body, making him a separate entity.

Summary:

Ryomen Sukuna, the King of Curses, becomes fascinated with a female sorcerer rich in potential but lacking control. Initially seizing her for his destructive plans, Sukuna aims to bind her abilities through a contract. Yet, as he tries to dominate her, he finds himself intrigued by her strength and determination. Over time, his interest evolves from strategic advantage to a deeper, personal connection.

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CHAPTER 23 - A Fragile Truce

You stood behind Sukuna in the dimly lit alley, the lingering warmth of alcohol still coloring your cheeks.

You’d yelled at him, kicked him, even come close to stabbing him—driven by a desperate need to shed the simmering rage that clung to you like a second skin. And strangely, after all that chaos, you felt like you’d done just that. There was an unexpected sense of relief, as if the outburst had vented the pressure that had been building for days.

Not all, but some of it at least.

And in that relative calm after the storm, you could no longer ignore the curiosity that had been buried beneath the layers of rage.

Those fleeting glimpses of something... almost human in Sukuna had planted an undeniable seed of intrigue—dangerous, but impossible to suppress.

Sukuna still had his back turned to you, making it difficult to gauge if his own outburst had brought him a similar semblance of calm. Though ‘calm’ was hardly a word you’d ever associate with him. Really, it was more a question of whether his intent to slaughter you had softened enough to be put on hold for now.

Cautiously, you took another step forward, hoping he might turn around at the sound of your approach. But the crunch of gravel under your feet was masked by the crumbling of the broken wall, still trembling from the force of his earlier blows.

With no other options, you chose a more daring approach.

“Uh, Sukuna?”

His shoulders tensed slightly, but he didn't turn.

And so, emboldened by the lingering buzz and the haze of slight anger, you pressed on. “Look, I’m drunk, I’m tired, and I’ve got classes tomorrow. Can we just… postpone this until another time?”

You waited, heart pounding, and painfully aware that you were extending an olive branch right after stupidly mocking the King of Curses in a moment of reckless impulse.

Then Sukuna finally glanced over his shoulder. The fire in his crimson eyes had cooled to a simmering ember, still dangerous but not quite the raging blaze it had been when he had you pinned to the wall.

He covered his eyes with one hand, a rough sigh escaping his lips as if you were an irritating puzzle he couldn’t quite solve.

“You truly think you’re getting off that easy, brat?”

Peering at you through the gaps between his fingers, he watched as you instinctively stepped back, nearly tripping over an uneven patch of pavement.

“Come on,” you tried to plead, your voice wavering between frustration and fatigue. “I shouldn’t have stayed away that long, okay? But you weren’t exactly reasonable about the memorial this weekend, and you pissed me off—a lot.”

Sukuna turned fully now, stepping into the faint glow of the streetlamp. The light carved out the sharp planes of his face and cast an intimidating silhouette on the wall behind him.

He lowered his hand, revealing that familiar mocking smirk that made your blood boil. And as he took another step in your direction, the last traces of anger in his eyes gave way to a certain... amusement.

“I’ll let it slide,” he drawled, taking yet another step until he stopped right in front of you.

“But only if you bow to me.”

You stared at him, momentarily stunned. Was he serious? Though deep down, you knew he was. He loved this twisted power play.

“No way,” you snapped back, crossing your arms. “I’m not bowing to you.”

His smirk widened as he toyed with the dagger he’d snatched from you earlier, lazily tossing it from hand to hand.

“Remember our binding vow,” he said, suddenly stopping the tossing to grab the dagger by the blade, pointing the hilt towards you. “If I give you an order, you can’t refuse. Or are you that eager to find out what happens if you break the vow?”

Shit.

He had you cornered. The binding vow was no small matter—if you defied him, it would shatter the pact, unleashing a punishment you didn’t even want to imagine. You clenched your jaw, every muscle in your body tensing as if that might somehow help you resist your fate.

“Do it,” Sukuna commanded with a voice that felt unexpectedly gentle, almost coaxing, before it turned sharp and cold.

"Or don’t—and I’ll savor every moment of watching you face the consequences. Either way, it’ll be a spectacle for me and a harsh lesson for you.”

You hated that it was this way—a choice between humiliation or disaster—but you were exhausted. All you wanted was to shut your eyes, sleep off the alcohol, and forget about all this, even if it meant choosing the path of humiliation.

At this point, it was simply the least exhausting option.

With a deep, reluctant breath, you dropped your gaze and slowly bent at the waist, each inch feeling like a mile. Your face burned with embarrassment, and your fists clenched so tightly at your sides that your nails dug into your palms. You made sure to bow just enough to satisfy the command and not an inch more.

“There,” you muttered through gritted teeth, your voice tight with shame. “Happy now?”

Sukuna watched you with an increasingly smug grin, and you could almost swear he straightened out his spine to emphasize the difference between you and him even more. “Good girl... See? Was that really so difficult?” he said, relishing the way the words made you stiffen in indignation.

“Go to hell,” you spat back as you glared up at him.

Sukuna chuckled, his laugh harsh and sinister, as it echoed off the narrow walls of the alley. "Hell? I’d consider that a vacation."

He then tossed the dagger to the ground at your feet, a gesture that was so typical of him. It was a complicated duality you were starting to recognize.

Sukuna had a habit of doing things to you that, in another context, might almost be considered kind. Returning a weapon you'd tried to use against him, for example, or saving your life from a special grade curse.

But he always did it in a way that kept you beneath him—forcing you to bend down even lower. It was like he could only manage to show a sliver of decency when it was cloaked in a display of power.

And yet, the fact that there was a hint of consideration in his actions at all—wasn’t that proof he wasn’t entirely evil?

Or maybe you were losing your grip on reality for even thinking that.

You straightened up, and Sukuna had already turned away, heading in the direction of the apartment. You quickly caught up with him, and he shot you a sidelong glance, a flicker of surprise passing over his face.

Clearly, he had expected you to follow behind him, not beside him.

But you were done with shivering in his shadow.

You were determined to show Sukuna that you were more than just a tool to be used; you were a person—albeit a remarkably stupid one for entangling yourself with a monster like him.

---------------------------------------------------------

The walk back to the apartment was silent. Neither you nor Sukuna spoke a word, and even after stepping inside the apartment, the wordless tension continued. He didn't spare you so much as a glance before disappearing into the basement, off to do God knows what.

Well, whatever. You were too exhausted to care.

After gulping down a glass of water—hoping it might stave off the inevitable headache the next day—you threw yourself onto the couch, and sleep claimed you instantly.

The next morning, it wasn’t your alarm that dragged you from sleep but the rhythmic thud of Sukuna’s footsteps moving through the apartment.

Your eyes blinked open, and you reached for your phone, careful to keep your movements quiet so he wouldn’t notice you were awake.

6:30 a.m.

The bright screen pierced your eyes, sending a sharp pain through your skull.

So much for that glass of water working.

You set your phone down and listened closely as Sukuna’s footsteps headed toward the bathroom. A door slammed, and moments later, you heard the steady hiss of running water.

The sound made you instantly aware of how thirsty you were. Your throat felt dry as a desert, and you reasoned that if you drank another glass of water and squeezed in an extra hour of sleep, maybe you could beat this headache before your classes started.

Silently, you tiptoed to the kitchen, navigating through the dark with the flashlight of your phone.

You opened the cupboard, stretching onto your toes to grab a glass tucked away on the top shelf. Your fingers brushed against the rim, managing to grab hold, but in your haste, you missed the second glass sitting beside it.

With a dreaded clink, it tipped over and shattered into a thousand pieces on the floor.

For a moment, you froze, hoping—praying—that Sukuna hadn’t heard it over the sound of the shower. The last thing you needed at this hour was a lecture on human stupidity, especially while you were still feeling the effects of last night’s drinks.

With no time to waste, you dropped to your knees and began picking up the shards, using your hands to sweep them into a pile. The pieces cut into your skin, leaving stinging trails of red, but you didn’t care. You just needed to get this cleaned up before Sukuna came out and found you like this.

Right then, another sudden, fierce throb tore through your head. Reflexively, you reached up to rub your temple, but that caused you to lose your balance.

Before you could catch yourself, your hand slipped, sending you tumbling sideways—right into the mess of broken glass.

A sharp pain shot through you. You bit back a yelp, feeling the warm blood begin to seep from the wounds, trickling down your leg and pooling in your palms.

You angled the light from your phone down to assess the damage, and your heart skipped a beat. A large shard of glass was embedded about two inches deep into the inside of your thigh, with blood steadily oozing from the wound and pooling around its edges.

Gritting your teeth, you tried to stand up, but the glass drove a searing pain through your leg whenever you put any weight on it. You clumsily tried to pick at the shard with trembling fingers, but your body refused to obey the command to pull it out.

Steeling yourself, you dried your blood-slicked hands on your shorts as you prepared to try again. You gripped the shard firmly, resolved to yank it free this time, no matter how much it hurt. But just as you were about to pull—

Two feet appeared in front of you, the mix of your blood and the glass shards crunching beneath them. You froze, unable to comprehend how Sukuna had moved so silently and how you hadn’t sensed him at all.

"Disgusting," Sukuna muttered, glancing down at the sole of his foot with a grimace. "Now I've got your filthy blood all over my damn feet."

Your gaze traveled upward slowly, taking him in bit by bit. His skin still glistened with droplets of water and he wore only a flimsy towel slung low around his hips, the fabric barely covering his manhood. His expression was one of mild irritation, like you were more of a nuisance than a person bleeding out in front of him.

He shifted slightly, and the movement caused his muscles to flex, making them look even more defined beneath the intricate patterns of his tattoos. He was close enough that you could feel the heat radiating from his freshly showered skin, and for a moment, your heart pounded for an entirely different reason.

He clicked his tongue, and there was an unmistakable contempt in his voice. "Does your foolishness truly know no bounds? Or are you deliberately trying to get under my skin?"

His eyes narrowed, briefly meeting yours before he turned his gaze away. "Should’ve finished you off yesterday."

You wanted to snap back, but the words caught in your throat. The way he stood there, coldly declaring how he’d rather see you dead while you bled at his feet, made you feel strangely vulnerable.

It was absurd—just the day before, he’d held a knife to your throat, and you hadn’t felt this hurt. So why did his words cut so much deeper now?

Sukuna seemed almost surprised by your silence, as if he’d caught the slight flicker of hurt on your face. He sighed, crouching down with a sharp exhale, his towel threatening to slip. “Move your hands,” he ordered.

For a moment, you hesitated. His eyes flicked to yours, and something dangerous flashed in them.

"Now."

You reluctantly obeyed, moving your hands away from the shard in your leg.

You flinched when Sukuna reached out, his fingers rough yet surprisingly careful as they brushed against your thigh. A jolt of unexpected heat coursed through you, and you bit down on your lip, suppressing a gasp as he gripped the glass with a steady hand.

Without warning, he yanked it out in one swift motion. Pain exploded through your leg, so intense you almost screamed, but you managed to stifle it to a sharp intake of breath instead.

When you looked down, the blood gushed out at an even faster pace, forming a dark puddle beneath you. You quickly pressed your hand to the wound in an effort to stop the bleeding.

Sukuna sighed in response, muttering a “tsk” under his breath. His irritation with your fragile humanity seemed to grow with each passing second.

He let the glass shard clatter to the floor and then paused before roughly pulling your hand away from the wound. He hovered his own hand above it, and a steady stream of cursed energy began to emanate from his palm.

You'd seen this before—it was his reversed cursed technique. Was he healing you right now? Without you even asking?

Your eyes widened in surprise.“What are you—”

“Shut up,” Sukuna snapped, his frown deepening. “Lift your shorts a little. There are cuts there too.”

Heat rose to your cheeks, and you instinctively pressed your legs together. “Why would I—”

Sukuna growled, and there was a cold, dangerous intensity in his eyes. “Do you think I’m asking?”

He then huffed in frustration, as if he couldn’t believe he was even bothering with this. “Do it, or bleed out. It makes no difference to me.”

You hesitated, caught between embarrassment and the sharp pain radiating from your leg. Slowly, you lifted the hem of your shorts just enough to expose the wounds, your heart racing as his hand came dangerously close to the edge of your panties.

The warmth of his cursed energy radiated over your skin, and for a moment, you felt a faint tingling sensation as the energy pulsed through the wounds, knitting the torn flesh back together in a way that was surprisingy gentle.

Sukuna watched the process intently, his expression unreadable and his face so close that you could feel his breath against your skin. Every now and then, his fingers brushed lightly against your thigh, and you struggled to distinguish between the warmth of his energy and the heat rising between your legs.

You couldn’t believe yourself—were you really that starved for attention?

Just as you could barely bear it any longer, his energy faded, and Sukuna withdrew his hand. The wounds were completely healed, leaving no trace of blood or pain behind.

He moved on to treating your hands and some cuts on your side before finally standing up and stretching out the muscles in his back.

“Try not to embarrass yourself like this again,” he muttered, wiping the blood off his hands with a nearby cloth. “Now clean up your mess,” he added as he turned away.

But before he could walk off, you felt compelled to say something. Because, for the first time, it seemed like he had helped without expecting anything in return.

"Um… Sukuna, thank you," you said softly, the words slipping out before you could stop them. "For… for healing me, I mean."

He stopped dead in his tracks, his back still to you. You thought, for a second, he might ignore you. But then, slowly, he turned his head, the expression on his face unreadable in the darkness.

“Hah,” he scoffed, “I didn’t do it for your sake, so don’t flatter yourself.” He continued, as if he felt a dire need to defend his actions. “I don’t need you bleeding all over my floor and ruining my morning. That’s all.”

Despite the harshness in his words, he appeared strangely restless. He shifted his weight and crossed his arms, as if guarding himself against something he couldn’t quite name. Even in the dark, you could tell he was avoiding your gaze.

“Still,” you insisted, glancing down at your lap, “I appreciate it.”

At that, he turned abruptly, muttering something under his breath that you could just barely make out: "Ridiculous woman..."

And though his voice retained some irritation, it lacked its usual venom.

A small smile crept onto your lips as he slammed the door to his room. Despite the argument you’d had the day before, his unexpected act of care made you feel oddly... special.

---------------------------------------------------------

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lendeah · 8 months

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After the Weave 4.

series masterlist

Summary: Following the Duke's murder, Elara and Astarion find themselves detained by the Flaming Fists and interrogated by detective Valeria. Somehow, they are forced to spend a pleasant evening in the barracks' basement, and the outcome is far from what they anticipated.

Pairing: Astarion x OFC!Tav, past Gale x OFC!Tav

Tags: Angst, Drinking to Cope, References to Depression, Eventual Fluff, Eventual Smut, Emotional Baggage, Unresolved Emotional Tension, Post-Break Up, Tav finds herself again with Astarion, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD.

Word count: 5.2k

"How come every time there is a series of murders, it's always you guys around?" Valeria asks, their pipe perched as always.

The Basilisk Gate Barracks are filled to the brim, with every fist trying to talk down the nobles assembled there. Most of them are still in formal attire, adding to the chaos of the situation. Meanwhile, Blaze Elin, a gruff woman with a thick scar running down her cheek, stands at the front of the room, trying to maintain some semblance of order. She had called all of the Flaming Fists in for an emergency meeting, and now they stand tensely, waiting for her orders.

"We have no idea who is behind these murders," she barks, voice booming through the barracks. "But I can assure you, we are working tirelessly to solve this case. I urge you all to share any information you may have so that we can bring justice to the Duke's murder. And then you can go home and rest easy knowing we are doing everything in our power to protect Baldur's Gate." Her eyes scan the room, daring anyone to go against her judgment.

Valeria flies around the room, their eyes narrowed skeptically. "That's what they always say," they spat lowly, their words like venom.

Astarion is slumped in his chair, his white hair falling across his face as he rolls his eyes dramatically. "Must we linger in this dull abode any longer? We have divulged everything we know," he complains, casting a side glance at the detective.

We both knew that was a lie, of course. We hadn't told Valeria about the spawn under the city. Or the ones in the Underdark, for that matter. It was too risky to spread the word about their existence.

But Valeria wasn't easily fooled. They perch on top of a bookshelf, piercing gaze fixed on us. "I know you're hiding something," they state matter-of-factly.

Astarion scoffs. "And what makes you think that?"

Valeria tilts their head to the side, their pipe still clenched between their teeth. "How about your sudden return to Baldur's Gate socialite? Your involvement in an apparent "charity hospital for children"? And let's not forget your companion here, which you have suddenly reunited with after months." They gestured towards me with a wingtip.

I can feel my stomach knotting with anxiety, but Astarion just laughs, his voice dripping with sarcasm. "Oh please, detective, I'm flattered that you find my life so interesting. But I assure you, the only thing I am involved in is solving this terrible murder case."

Valeria raised an eyebrow skeptically, as they calmly blew a puff of smoke.

"Is that so? Then tell me, why does every corpse we are finding present bite marks? Vampire bite marks?"

My heart skips a beat at Valeria's accusation. I know they are onto us. Astarion, however, remains once again unfazed. He leans forward in his chair, his lips curling into a sly smile. "My dear detective, are you implying I am the culprit just because I'm a vampire?"

Valeria's expression remained unreadable, their pipe still clenched between their teeth. "I'm not ruling out any possibilities," they replied evenly.

Astarion chuckles, leaning back in his chair with a casual shrug. "Well then, I suppose anyone could be the culprit."

Valeria's eyes narrow at his nonchalant attitude. "You seem awfully calm for someone who is being accused of killing multiple people," they state, their tone laced with suspicion.

Astarion's smile falters for a moment before he regains his composure. "My dear detective, I assure you, I am not responsible for these murders. Do you have any evidence to suggest otherwise?" He crosses his arms over his chest defiantly. "And in this case, the simplest explanation is that there is a vampire on the loose, preying on unsuspecting victims. Just because I am a civilized vampire, doesn't mean every of my kind is." he ends with another casual shrug. Gods, he is good.

I take a sharp breath and blurt out. "You know, this could be considered vampire discrimination!"

Valeria raises a skeptical eyebrow at my outburst. "Vampire discrimination? I highly doubt that, Miss. Not when we have solid evidence pointing towards a vampire as the suspect."

I clamp my mouth shut, realizing that I may have just made things worse. Astarion gives me a warning look before turning his attention back to Valeria.

"Forgive her, detective. As you know, she tends to let her emotions get the best of her," he says with false charm.

Valeria seems to consider this for a moment before speaking again. "Then why would this vampire target specific people? The past victims were normally lower class, but the Duke and his family were well-protected and respected individuals."

Astarion shrugs again. "Perhaps it was just a simple case of being at the wrong place at the wrong time. Just like we were."

I can see Valeria nod reluctantly at Astarion's words, but their eyes continued to bore into us with suspicion.

"Well then, if you come across any information or leads from your kind, be sure to inform me," they say sternly before standing up from their perch on the bookshelf. "I trust you, but I will be keeping a close eye on the both of you."

We both nod solemnly and finally get up to head out. At this point, only a handful of nobles are left to be interviewed. Among them is Lady Saphira, her elegant dress sparkling in the dim light. When she catches sight of us, her painted lips curl into a warm smile and she waves us over eagerly.

Regrettably, just as we are about to exit the building, I catch a glimpse of the first rays of sunlight peeking over the horizon. The soft orange and pink hues cast a warm glow over the city, signaling the start of a new day. I look at Astarion with a grimace, knowing this means we are unable to walk outside. The elf lets out a heavy sigh, his eyes scanning the area for any signs of cover.

"Well, well, it appears we'll have to find some shelter until nightfall," he mutters.

I nod in agreement, my mind already racing with thoughts on where we could go. And then I realize: we are in the Barracks. I look to the corner of the room, where the door to a small staircase lies hidden out of sight.

"Maybe we could rest in my old basement until then?" I ask.

Astarion turns to me with a raised eyebrow. "Your basement? Well, I suppose it's better than wandering out in the open..." he says with a hint of skepticism.

However, as I lead him to the door, I notice a guard is currently standing in front of it, and he would surely notice if we were to go down. During my time here, the Barracks were often pretty empty, so I didn't worry about the Fists finding out I was using their basement as my home.

I try to call the magic to my hands to cast an invisibility enchantment, but it is so rusty from months of no use that barely a few sparks appear.

Astarion, noticing my thoughts, places a hand on my arm and smiles. "Darling, you can just ask me to cause a distraction."

I raise an eyebrow, intrigued by the mischievous glint in his eyes. "And just what kind of distraction are we talking about?" I ask.

Astarion smirks, his charming smile reaching his eyes. With a flick of his wrist, Astarion reaches into his cloak and retrieves a small vial filled with a shimmering liquid. He holds it up to the light, the liquid sparkling like stardust. "This," he says, waving the vial playfully, "is a little something I acquired during our time apart. It's an enchantment potion that can cause illusions. But not just normal illusions, big illusions. Trust me, it'll be quite the spectacle."

I nod, dubious of the effectiveness of said potion. "Alright then, show me what you've got."

He smirks, and gets closer to my ear to whisper, "¿Ready to run?"

Without another word, Astarion forcefully throws the vial to the other side of the room where it explodes in a thousand shards. I watch in amazement as an image of a huge ogre appears in the corner of the room, letting out a deafening roar.

Panic erupts among both the soldiers and nobles as they scramble to either arm themselves and prepare for battle or run away. The Fist in front of the door immediately runs to help in the chaos, leaving the door unguarded. The image of the ogre is so realistic that even I start to panic for a moment, but then Astarion's hand grabs mine and pulls me towards the stairs. As we run, my ball gown gets caught on one of the tables, causing me to stumble and almost fall. But Astarion quickly catches me and effortlessly detaches my dress from the table.

"Come on, we need to move fast," he urges, his grip tightening on my hand.

I nod and we continue our escape. Soon, we reach the small door, and it takes all my strength to open it since I haven't used it in so long. Finally, with a loud creak, it swings open revealing a dimly lit staircase that goes down into the basement. I quickly urge him forward and close the door behind us, making sure to lock it. The sound of chaos from above fades as we hurry down the stairs into the darkness. I can feel Astarion's hand gripping mine tightly, guiding me through the narrow staircase.

As we reach the end, I see another door, this one larger and made of metal. It has a large lock on it, but before I even remember where I left the key, Astarion quickly takes out a set of lockpicks and skillfully picks the lock. The door opens with a soft creak, revealing a small underground room, barely lit from a small window to the street. Astarion collapses onto a nearby chair with a grin on his face.

"Well, that was exhilarating," he says with a laugh, catching his breath.

I take a deep breath and let out a sigh of relief as I sink down onto another chair beside Astarion. My hands shake as I begin to remove the layers of my ball gown, leaving only the outer scarlet texture that falls freely over my feet. Astarion watches me with amusement in his eyes as I struggle with the intricately designed dress. Finally, I manage to pull it off and throw it onto the floor, feeling suddenly free from its suffocating hold.

"I can't believe you had an enchantment potion on you," I say.

Astarion shrugs nonchalantly. "What can I say? I like to be prepared for any situation."

I chuckle and then take a look at my surroundings.

As I take in the room, my chest constricts. Despite it only being two weeks since I last stood here, it feels like a lifetime has passed. The room is dirtier and more somber than I remembered. A small bed sits in one corner, with a tiny window near the roof as its sole source of light. Two old chairs and a table, coupled with an old sofa, make up the rest of the barren furnishings. Empty bottles of alcohol litter the floor, along with many plates of half-eaten food. Oh, and it absolutely stinks.

I can't help but feel ashamed of Astarion's presence; I don't want him to see this place. Don't want him to realize how low I fell before he took me in.

Astarion takes note of my discomfort and raises an eyebrow. "Is everything alright, love?" he asks, concern coloring his voice.

I force a smile and shrug it off. "It's just...I didn't think it had gotten this bad," I say, trying to brush it off casually.

Astarion's eyebrows furrow in concern as he takes in the state of my basement. "What do you mean?" he asks softly.

I sigh and avoid his gaze. "I hadn't been taking care of myself properly since... since Gale left," I admit with a hint of sorrow in my voice.

Astarion's expression softens and with a tenderness that surprises me, he takes my hand in his and gives it a gentle squeeze.

"I'm sorry, Elara," he says, sincerity lacing his words. "I didn't mean to leave you alone for so long."

I shake my head, feeling a touch of guilt for bringing up the subject. "It's not your fault, Astarion. I'm sure you had your own reasons for leaving," I say, trying to reassure him.

Astarion nods, but I can see the guilt still lingering in his eyes. He stands up and starts looking around the room, "Let's clean this place up a bit, shall we?" he says with a grin, picking up empty bottles and plates.

I can't help but laugh at his sudden enthusiasm for cleaning.

"Oh, you? Engaged in the noble art of cleaning? I am astonished."

Astarion gives me a mock offended look. "Why yes, my dear, I am capable of more than just thievery and seduction," he retorts with a smirk.

I laugh again and join him in cleaning up the mess. Together, we spend the next hour tidying up the basement. It's a surprisingly cathartic experience, feels as if we are washing away the memories of my past struggles together.

When we finish cleaning, Astarion looks around with satisfaction. "Much better," he says with a smile.

I look around as well and feel a weight lift off my shoulders. The room is no longer dark and depressing; although still austere, it feels a bit more cozy and welcoming now.

"Thank you," I say sincerely to Astarion.

Just when I am prepared to sit on the makeshift sofa, I notice a stray bottle hiding between the wall and the bed. Curiosity getting the best of me, I reach for it and realize it's still full.

"I really spent five months drowning my sorrows in ale. What a brilliant strategy, right?" I say, reaching it with a heavy sigh.

I sit defeatedly back on the sofa. Astarion looks at the bottle in my hand, deep in thought. After a moment, he turns to me with a determined expression.

"Why don't we make a different kind of toast?" he suggests, his voice filled with genuine warmth.

I raise an eyebrow in confusion. "What do you mean?" I ask.

Astarion settles beside me on the plush sofa, grabbing the last bottle of ale. "Let's share this final bottle, closing the chapter as it began," he suggests with a wistful smile. "And then let us make a promise to each other – to move forward as one."

I look at Astarion in surprise, not sure what to make of his sudden declaration. But something in his eyes tells me that he is being genuine, and I can't help but feel touched by his words.

I nod slowly, and Astarion opens the bottle with ease "To new beginnings," Astarion says, raising the bottle in a toast, and gulps with a grimace. "Gods, this ale is awful."

I chuckle and take a sip myself. The drink is strong and bitter, but I find myself enjoying it more than I thought I would. We sit in comfortable quietness for a few moments, passing the bottle back and forth.

"I can't believe the Duke is dead..." I say, breaking the silence. "Wyll..."

Astarion nods, his expression grim. "Yes, and he won't have a clue unless he graces us with his presence again."

I let out a sigh, running a hand through my hair in frustration. "I wish there was a way to contact them."

Astarion leans back against the sofa, taking another swig from the bottle of ale. "It seems we are also very screwed," he says bluntly."No noble will want to help a vampire now, even with a charming hero by my side."

I roll my eyes at his choice of words, but can't deny the truth in them. I bite my lip. "And now everyone will hate you even more," I murmur.

"I'm used to it by now, that is the least of my worries," Astarion shrugs nonchalantly."The problem is the Underdark spawn. We can't keep covering to sustain them if the nobles don't pay us."

Astarion takes another swig of the ale, his expression troubled despite trying to conceal it. I can't help but admire his genuine dedication to the well-being of the spawn.

"You're right, but we can't just let them starve," I say, thinking of the innocent children that were turned into spawns by Cazador.

Astarion nods in agreement. "We'll have to come up with a solution soon or else things will only get worse."

I take a deep breath and try to think of a plan. "Perhaps we could find the culprit spawn? That way, instead of being labeled as monsters, the nobles might see us as saviors in the end. Plus, you know, prevent further harm to innocent lives."

Astarion looks at me with a smirk. "Ah, always the hero. But finding the spawn? That's a risky move, my dear. They're not exactly known for their civility or cooperation. Much less yours or mine."

I raise an eyebrow at Astarion's comment. "I never said it would be easy, but it could be worth a try. We can't just sit here and do nothing while they go around killing more innocents."

Astarion nods slowly and then gives me a sly smile. "Well, looks like we'll have to go on a little hunt. We'll most certainly find them, but we must tread lightly and play our cards just right."

"I agree," I say with determination. "We can start tomorrow and see what we can find out."

A heavy silence settles between us, the warmth of the ale slowly creeping into my mind. Suddenly, I feel emboldened by the alcohol and ask the question that has been nagging at me for months: "What did you do during all that time we were apart?"

Astarion looks at me with surprise before a small smirk forms on his face. "Oh, just the usual. Drinking, gambling, and charming my way into the beds of highborn virgins."

I raise an eyebrow at him and he chuckles. "Just kidding, of course. Well, mostly kidding."

I roll my eyes at Astarion's flippant response. After what I saw at the party, I am more than sure that he has indeed been visiting a lot of bedchambers. The thought, for some reason, doesn't sit well with me.

"Seriously though, what did you do?" I press on, trying to distract my thoughts. We are so close our arms are touching, sending pleasant shivers down my spine.

"As much as I wish to boast about how I was far off better than you... I cannot" He sighs. "Hiding in the shadows once again took a toll on me, and I fear it may have shattered me completely. I never thought I would have to resort to such methods again. It was like reliving a nightmare."

Astarion takes another swig of ale before continuing. "I spent most of my time huddled in my bedchambers. My appetite disappeared, along with any sense of purpose or thought. All I could do was lay there, consumed by my own despair."

His raw confession tugs at my heart, causing it to clench painfully. My mind struggles to process this new side of Astarion - so unlike the guarded and closed-off man I thought I knew. It's almost as if he's a completely different person now, changed by the events of these past few months. Or perhaps, his sudden honesty is simply a result of the alcohol loosening his inhibitions.

I find myself reaching out to gently place my hand over his in comfort. He just looks to the wall, as if his mind is elsewhere, and keeps talking. "I was utterly alone. Everyone else had found their own happily ever after - Lae'zel fulfilling her duties to her people, Shadowheart finding her true calling, Wyll and Karlach, you know, at least they were together. And then there was you and Gale..." He looks over at me with an unreadable expression before turning his gaze back to the wall. "I couldn't help but feel envious of all of you. It seemed like everyone had moved on except for me."

I take a deep breath, his thoughts resonating so deep within me, reminding me of my own struggles back when I was alone and trying to help everyone. "I understand what you mean," I say softly, squeezing his hand lightly. "I've been there too, feeling like everyone has moved on and left me behind."

Astarion shrugs, a bitter smile on his face. "It's not their fault. It's just... hard being alone after so long. It reminded me too much of my old life."

I nod, "I can imagine how hard it must have been for you," I reply sincerely.

"Surviving wasn't easy, but I managed." He says with a hint of amusement, "Dalyria found me cowering in the bedroom after a month and gave me quite the scolding. But then she helped me dust off my pride and put me back on my feet. She knew we needed all hands on deck to deal with the spawn, and apparently, I was deemed the most capable." With a shrug, he sums it up, "And that's how it went."

His final words are a bit slurred as if the alcohol is getting to him too. I grasp his hand tightly, not wanting to let go even as the world around us spins. His skin is cold against mine and I can feel the tremble in his fingers.

"Well, we're not alone anymore. We're together." I whisper, my words also a bit slurred.

Astarion looks at me with surprise before a small smile forms on his face. "Together," he repeats, his voice muddled, before pulling back and taking another swig of the bottle. My gaze follows the movement as his strong hand grips the bottle, his soft lips enveloping the tip, his translucent eyelashes fluttering shut in pleasure. My mind reels as I watch his throat move while he gulps, and for some reason, my drunken haze makes me ache with desire for him.

His red eyes connect with mine, and I can feel myself getting flustered under his intense gaze, caught in the act.

A faint smirk appears on his lips as he takes another swig of ale. "Do you like what you see?" he teases, and his voice is now low and husky.

I have the urge to look away, a blush creeping onto my cheeks. But instead, I reply emboldened by the alcohol, "Maybe."

Astarion's eyes widen in surprise, and a mischievous grin spreads across his face. He leans closer, his breath fanning against my ear. "Well, isn't that interesting," he whispers, his voice dripping with playful suggestion. "Perhaps we should explore this newfound curiosity of yours."

My heart skips a beat as his words hang in the air, my mind buzzing with a mixture of desire and confusion. A part of me wants to push him away, to remind myself that this is just the alcohol talking, but another part of me yearns to indulge in this intoxicating connection we share. It's been so long since I've felt this desire, this need. So long since I've been touched.

Summoning up the courage, I lean in closer to his ear, our knees now touching.

"Do you like what you see?" I manage to say, my voice barely above a whisper. From this close, I can admire the small moles dotting his cheek, and fight the urge to trace them with my fingertip.

Astarion chuckles softly and pulls back slightly, his red eyes locking onto mine. His lips curl into a mischievous smile as he places his free hand on my thigh. His touch sends an electric jolt through my body, igniting a fire within me. "Who are you and what have you done to my dear Elara?" he asks teasingly.

Our faces are now mere inches apart, our bodies pressed against each other.

"Do you like what you see?" I repeat, surprised at how low and sultry my voice comes out.

Astarion leans in closer, his nose barely brushing mine. "I do," he replies, his voice filled with desire. "Who could resist such a stunning creature?"

The tension between us is palpable as Astarion's hand continues to trail up my thigh, his touch igniting a burning desire within me even through the thick fabric of my dress. I don't know if he is pretending anymore, my head is swimming, my thoughts clouded by the alcohol and his touch. I know he can hear my heartbeat, his pupils expanded to the point where there is no crimson in them. He licks his lips, briefly showing his fangs, and I can't help but shiver, my body remembering the way they felt on my neck.

Without fully realizing what I'm doing, I take my trembling hand to his neck, touching the bite mark there softly, and caress my way to the base of his throat. My fingers tremble as I tug on the strings of Astarion's black shirt, feeling the smooth fabric open to reveal his sculpted chest. The dim sunset light from the basement window casts a golden glow over him, accentuating his every muscle and curve. He looks like a creature carved out of marble, perfect in every way.

Astarion watches me with intense eyes as I trace my fingers down his chest, feeling the softness of his skin under my touch. His breath hitches slightly and he leans in closer, his lips brushing against mine, sending a shiver down my spine. I can feel his hunger for me radiating off of him, and it only fuels my desire.

"How long has it been?" Astarion's hand goes up and cups my cheek gently, his thumb stroking my skin softly "How long has it been since someone touched you?"

I take a deep breath, trying to calm the storm of emotions raging within me. "It's been a while," I admit, feeling vulnerable and exposed under his intense stare.

A small smile tugs at the corners of Astarion's lips as he leans in closer once more. Our lips brush lightly again, sending all kinds of electric feelings along my skin. "You are drunk," he whispers.

And then, he pulls back completely, retrieving his hand. A wave of disappointment washes over me and I can't help but whine at the lack of contact.

"B-but I want to," I say, my words almost gibberish.

He just shakes his head and gets up to get even further away, allowing me to see I wasn't the only one affected by our exchange.

"You will regret it tomorrow." He adds, "If you still want to when you sober up, I will more than oblige."

The room suddenly feels cold and empty with Astarion away from me. I can't help but feel disappointed, my desire still burning strong within my veins.

"I won't regret it," I say with determination, but my words are slightly slurred from the alcohol. "I want you."

Astarion's eyes darken with desire as he looks at me, but he shakes his head again. "Oh darling, you are clearly drunk," he repeats, "And a whiny, obnoxious one at that."

I pout, feeling rejected and frustrated. Why won't he just give in to our mutual desire? Is it really because I'm drunk? Or maybe because he thinks I'm not good enough for him? Is this even his true self, or is he simply pretending to be flirty as usual?

"Can we please go home now, precious little crybaby?" he drawled with a smirk, his eyes sparkling with amusement.

My pout deepens as I watch Astarion head towards the door. "Fine," I mutter, standing up and swaying slightly as the alcohol starts to hit me harder.

Astarion's teasing grin transforms into a devilish chuckle as he observes my unsteady steps. "Oh, darling, is this your attempt at seduction?" he quips with a wink. "I won't fall for it, but I'll gladly watch you stumble."

But then he comes to stand beside me and with his firm grip, he assists me in walking up the stairs once more. The barracks lay eerily quiet and devoid of life in the cover of night, the moon casting an eerie shadow over our movements. As we walk through the empty hall, Astarion's arm finds its way around my waist for support, and my mind is still consumed by thoughts of our previous interaction. The alcohol in my system makes me more aware of his touch and the way his body presses against mine.

Before leaving the place, Astarion turns to face me with a mischievous grin on his face. "Now, shall we finish our little promise?" he asks in a low voice.

I can feel my cheeks heating up at his words and I nod eagerly. I hold out my hand "I promise to move forward from this place. And from Gale. And from the ale."

Astarion raises an eyebrow at my wobbly words, but he takes my hand in his and gives it a firm shake. "Together," he says with a smirk, his grip surprisingly steady despite the amount of alcohol we've consumed. How is he not drunk? He drank more than me!

As we make our way back to the Palace, Astarion keeps his arm around me, guiding me through the now-dark streets of Baldur's Gate. Despite the alcohol clouding my senses, I can't help but feel safe and protected by his presence, and I unconsciously lean into his touch. As we reach the metal gates of the Palace, I am starting to sober up, and he finally releases his grip on me and opens the door.

"Well," Astarion says, leaning against the door frame with a mischievous glint in his eyes. "That was certainly an interesting day."

I roll my eyes at his comment, feeling a mixture of embarrassment and frustration. It's bad enough that I made a fool of myself in front of Astarion, but now he's going to tease me about it too?

"Can we just forget about it?" I mumble, trying to brush off the embarrassing events of the evening.

A cunning smirk spreads across Astarion's face as he gazes at me. "Oh, don't worry darling," he drawls. "I will most definitely forget." but his words drip with sarcasm.

I roll my eyes at Astarion's teasing comment, but I can't deny the small flicker of disappointment at the thought of him forgetting about our drunken encounter. Despite trying to push those memories away, they keep resurfacing in my mind. The way Astarion's fingers had felt against my skin, the desire burning between us... I shake my head, trying to clear my thoughts.

Astarion leads me inside and we have barely taken two steps when two figures appear in front of us.

"Are you two drunk?"

Astarion and I freeze in our tracks as Shadowheart and Lae'zel stand before us, their arms crossed and disapproval etched on their faces. My heart stops at the sight of the two women.

I straighten myself, attempting to regain some semblance of composure. I can feel my face flushing with embarrassment, desperately wishing for the ground to open up and swallow me whole. Astarion, ever the smooth-talker, steps forward with a sly grin.

"My two favorite companions!" he replies, feigning innocence. "To what do I owe the pleasure of your visit to my modest property?"

Shadowheart and Lae'zel exchange a doubtful glance before turning their attention back to Astarion.

"We've been waiting here the entire day for the both of you," Shadowheart says, her tone serious. "We heard the Duke died, and it's clear you two were entangled in the mess somehow."

Lae'zel finally speaks up, her voice cold and commanding. "We are here to deal with the wreckage you left behind."

Tag List - @astarioffsimpmain, @amazingnerd, @ayselluna

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culiehua · 3 months

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Imagine: our beloved shadowhunters in a vampire diaries S4x22/23 type of scenario where the veil between the living and the dead falls and chaos ensues

angry dead people are back for unifinished business with the mcs, you name it, they face it

(hint hint it's terrible)

magnus & co. are looking for a way to bring it back up but it's difficult enough without the now corporeal walking dead terrorists

the veil separates the living and the ghosts of those who are not ready to move on but also other supernatural whatnots

meaning that demons frequently infiltrate the other side bc it's a parallel dimensional death realm but usually rarely find weaknesses in the veil to cross over (and be killed by "stupid hot people")

but the whole thing is gone so demons are flooding everywhere and it is not that great

because the dead can now become tangible again (if they want to that is), they do that, e.g. Valentine and his posse go for Clary, and there are just so many

(we'll get back to them)

Meanwhile in London, Yanluo has crawled his way into Cirenworth because demons can hold grudges forever and he still has quite the bone to pick with Wenyu, Yiwen and Elias' blood (i.e. Jem holds the #1 spot in his deathnote (yes yanluo has a deathnote in canon myth even though it works a bit differently))

and why give up such ample opportunity for petty revenge?

nobody at the Carstairs home knows what is going on however (Tessa is with Magnus in New York)

so Mina is ripped out of her cradle in the middle of the night and held hostage until Jem hears her cry

listen. my chinese violin man has seen some shit

in his long (but not as long as it could have been) life he has spent more time flirting with his death than most and seems practically unflappable atp

but this is a nightmare he's never been able to completely get over (because watching your parents die while being tortured is traumatic™)

so jem is restrained and absolutely terrified to his core bc this cannot be happening again

fate has a really fucked up sense of humor, he thinks

history repeating itself was not on his bingo card and he is not sure if it's him or his sweet sweet baby girl that is going to croak. After all that effort to stay alive

and he prays to the angel it's him. Anyone but little love Mina, and he wonders, distantly, if his mother had felt the same way when she died

(The anguish and agony forever carved into his memory and onto her face tell him she would have)

Yanluo's ready to strike and poison him again but instead get's flung to the other side of the hall

(no minas were harmed in this scene)

things are moving too fast for him to see but in his injury induced haze he swears he hallucinates the image of his mother reaching for him before passing out

when he wakes up again it's to a destroyed foyer and his crying baby in his Kit's arms who looks a lot worse for wear

so the fight had been real. he definitely didn't imagine that

But he soon comes to the realization that he must have imagined his mother in someone else's stead, coming to protect him. How pathetic of him. He'd have to thank them later.

He hasn't spotted the unsheathed Jian coverd in ichor on the left side of the room yet.

For a couple of minutes he takes deep breaths. It was over.

He's as calm as he could get under his circumstamces

But it's Kit's disgruntled throwaway comment that shatters all semblance of peace he's found

"What the heck? Wenyu never told me she could fight like that!"

(amidst it all, young brown eyes and golden ones meet over Kit's shoulder)

Back in New York, a desperate redheaded girl was surprised to see another pair of green eyes joining the chaos and helping her fight off Valentine

and maybe, though she'll never admit it to anyone but herself, a long standing heavy weight was now off her shoulders after this day

(and if she felt lighter than she has in a long time, nobody had to know.)

#the shadowhunter chronicles #the mortal instruments #cassandra clare #shadowhunters #the infernal devices #jem carstairs #tessa gray #clary fairchild #mina carstairs #kit herondale #the dark artifices #magnus bane #the last hours #jonathan morgenstern #ke wen yu #james herondale #i only have mini snippets bc i suck at actual writing #tsc

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thequeenofneverland1 · 7 days

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Before The Hope Of The Mikaelsons Family Part Two

Summary: In the Mikaelson mansion, tension brews as Klaus struggles with his emotions regarding Hayley’s pregnancy. While Elijah and Rebekah support Hayley, Klaus initially distances himself, grappling with resentment and fear of fatherhood. However, a painful moment prompts Klaus to embrace his role, igniting a bond with his unborn child. As preparations for the baby’s arrival unfold, the family is still unaware of a coven of witches plotting to take the child for their own nefarious purposes. Rebekah and Elijah hope for the family's unity, but with Kol and Freya absent, they face uncertainty. As confrontations unfold and emotions run high, the Mikaelsons prepare for challenges that will test their strength and loyalty, ultimately seeking a brighter future marked by hope and redemption.

Warnings: Emotional distress, Pregnancy-related discomfort and anxiety experienced, themes of personal struggle, including fear of parenthood and familial obligations. Potential violence and from external threats (witches) aimed at the unborn child. Past trauma and hurtful relationships among family members.

The Mikaelson mansion, with its grandeur and timeless elegance, is now overshadowed by the palpable tension that envelops it. Days have passed since the heated confrontation between Klaus and his siblings, and while Elijah and Rebekah are steadfast in their support for Hayley, Klaus remains a brooding, distant figure. His anger and resentment have created a chasm in the family, leaving Hayley isolated in a house that was once a symbol of power and unity.

Hayley, visibly pregnant and increasingly weary, spends most of her days in the sitting room, a quiet sanctuary where she can escape the constant strain of her new reality. The room, with its high ceilings and large windows, offers a serene view of the lush garden, but the tranquility is deceptive. The house, despite its opulence, feels cold and unwelcoming, and the weight of Klaus’s absence is ever-present.

Rebekah, with her characteristic determination, has taken on the role of Hayley’s primary caregiver. She meticulously checks on Hayley’s comfort, ensuring that she has everything she needs. From bringing meals to rearranging cushions and fetching tea, Rebekah’s efforts are sincere, though she can’t hide her frustration with Klaus’s behavior.

Elijah, equally concerned, divides his time between managing the family’s affairs and attending to Hayley’s needs. His presence is a steadying force, and he tries to maintain a semblance of normalcy despite the chaos surrounding them. His calm demeanor is a stark contrast to the storm brewing within Klaus, and Elijah often finds himself in the middle, trying to mediate between his brother’s stubbornness and the needs of their family.

Kol, ever the wildcard, flits in and out of the mansion with his usual air of irreverence. His visits are marked by a casual attitude and a lack of concern for the family’s turmoil. True to form, Kol arrives one afternoon with a nonchalant swagger, his casual attire a stark contrast to the somber atmosphere. He flops into a nearby chair with a dramatic sigh, his eyes glinting with mischief.

“Still here, are we?” Kol’s tone is light, though there’s a hint of mockery in his voice. “How’s the little one? Kicking up a storm yet?”

Rebekah, who is adjusting Hayley’s cushions, shoots Kol a sharp look. Her patience is wearing thin, and she can barely contain her frustration. “Kol, now is not the time for your games. We’re trying to keep things as calm and normal as possible for Hayley.”

Kol raises an eyebrow, seemingly unfazed by her reprimand. “Oh, I’m just checking in. You know, making sure the little drama hasn’t gotten too dull. Besides, I wouldn’t want to miss the spectacle of Nik’s inevitable meltdown.”

Elijah, who has been reviewing some documents at the far end of the room, looks up with a sigh. The stress of managing the family’s affairs combined with the weight of their personal issues is beginning to take its toll. “Kol, this is serious. Klaus’s behavior is making things harder for everyone, especially Hayley. We need to focus on supporting her, not fueling the chaos.”

Kol’s gaze shifts to Elijah, and for a moment, there’s a flicker of understanding in his eyes. “Fine, fine. I’ll play nice. But you have to admit, it’s rather amusing watching Klaus squirm.”

Rebekah’s frustration boils over. She stands with her hands on her hips, her voice rising. “You think this is a game? Klaus is being selfish, and his behavior is affecting everyone. Especially Hayley. She’s terrified and isolated, and your little jabs aren’t helping.”

Kol shrugs, leaning back in his chair with an air of casual indifference. “All right, all right. I’ll try to keep my amusement to myself. But you must admit, this family is never short on drama.”

Elijah steps closer, his voice calm but firm. “Kol, we’re asking for your cooperation. This is a difficult time for all of us, and we need to act as a family. Klaus’s behavior might be a challenge, but we have to rise above it for Hayley’s sake.”

Kol’s eyes soften slightly, and he nods, though he still seems a bit detached from the gravity of the situation. “Understood. I’ll make an effort. But don’t expect me to be a saint about it.”

Rebekah returns her attention to Hayley, her expression softening. “How are you feeling today, Hayley? Is there anything you need? Anything we can do to make this easier?”

Hayley looks up, her eyes reflecting a mixture of gratitude and sadness. “I’m doing all right, Rebekah. Just trying to stay positive. It’s hard with everything that’s happening.”

Elijah moves to sit beside Hayley, placing a comforting hand on her shoulder. “We’re all here for you. No matter what Klaus does or doesn’t do, you have us. We’ll make sure you’re safe and cared for.”

As the day continues, Kol’s presence fades as quickly as it arrived. He excuses himself with a half-hearted apology, leaving Elijah and Rebekah to carry on with their efforts. The mansion feels quieter, though the tension remains.

Hayley leans back against the cushions, feeling a mix of relief and melancholy. The support from Elijah and Rebekah is a comfort, but it’s overshadowed by Klaus’s continued absence. She knows that the road ahead will be fraught with challenges, but for now, she finds solace in the small moments of kindness and the hope that things might eventually improve.

The future remains uncertain, and Klaus’s cold demeanor is a constant reminder of the fractures within their family. But with Elijah and Rebekah’s unwavering support, Hayley finds the strength to face each day, hoping that, somehow, they can find a way to bridge the gaps and restore some semblance of unity.

As the days blend into weeks, the mansion’s atmosphere shifts subtly, though the tension remains a constant undercurrent. Klaus continues to distance himself from Hayley, his anger and resentment keeping him isolated. Meanwhile, Elijah and Rebekah work tirelessly to ensure Hayley’s comfort and well-being, their dedication unwavering despite the strain.

Elijah’s presence becomes a source of stability for Hayley. His visits are frequent, and he makes a concerted effort to be there for her in ways that go beyond mere duty. They share quiet conversations, exchange stories, and in those moments, a bond begins to form—a bond that neither of them fully understands but both find increasingly important.

One evening, as the sun dips below the horizon and the room is bathed in the soft glow of twilight, Hayley sits by the window, reading a book. Elijah enters, carrying a tray with a pot of tea and a few light snacks. He sets it down on the table beside her and takes a seat, his eyes scanning her face with a tender expression.

“You seem lost in thought,” he observes gently, his voice soft.

Hayley looks up, her eyes meeting his. “Just trying to distract myself. It’s hard not to think about everything that's happening.”

Elijah nods, understanding. He pours two cups of tea, handing one to Hayley. “It’s been a challenging time for all of us. But you’re not alone, Hayley. We’re here to support you, no matter what.”

As they sip their tea, the conversation flows naturally, shifting from light-hearted topics to deeper, more personal reflections. Elijah finds himself increasingly drawn to Hayley, not just by her strength and resilience but by the way she handles herself with grace despite the difficult circumstances.

Days turn into weeks, and Elijah’s feelings for Hayley deepen. He finds himself looking forward to their conversations, seeking out moments to spend with her. He’s careful not to let his emotions show too overtly, but there’s a warmth in his gaze and a softness in his voice that betray his growing affection.

One afternoon, Rebekah has taken a rare moment for herself, leaving Elijah and Hayley alone. They’re seated in the garden, enjoying the mild weather and the scent of blooming flowers. Hayley rests her hand on her swollen abdomen, her expression reflective.

“You know, Elijah,” she begins, her voice contemplative, “I never thought I’d be here, in this position, so far from where I thought my life was headed.”

Elijah’s gaze is steady, his expression thoughtful. “None of us expected things to turn out this way. But sometimes, life takes us on unexpected paths. It’s how we navigate those paths that defines us.”

Hayley looks at him, her eyes searching his face. “You’ve been so kind to me, Elijah. I don’t know how I would have managed without your support.”

Elijah’s heart swells at her words. He’s been trying to maintain a professional distance, but the sincerity in Hayley’s voice breaks through his resolve. “It’s my pleasure, Hayley. You deserve all the kindness in the world, especially during such a trying time.”

Their conversation continues, and Elijah finds himself opening up more than he ever intended. He shares his thoughts, his fears, and his hopes, and in return, Hayley shares hers. The connection between them deepens, evolving from simple camaraderie into something more profound.

One evening, as they sit together in the dimly lit library, the atmosphere is intimate. Hayley is curled up in a chair, while Elijah sits across from her, reading by the soft light of a lamp. The silence between them is comfortable, and Elijah can’t help but feel a sense of contentment in her presence.

He sets aside his book and looks at Hayley, his voice gentle but tinged with emotion. “Hayley, there’s something I need to tell you. These past weeks have been… transformative for me. I’ve come to realize that my feelings for you have grown beyond mere friendship.”

Hayley’s eyes meet his, and she can see the sincerity in his gaze. “Elijah, I—”

Before she can respond, the sound of footsteps echoes in the hallway, and Rebekah appears, a slight frown on her face. “I hope I’m not interrupting. I was looking for you, Elijah.”

Elijah’s expression changes to one of disappointment, but he quickly regains his composure. “Not at all, Rebekah. We were just finishing up here.”

Rebekah’s eyes flicker between them, sensing the tension in the air but choosing to ignore it for the moment. “I wanted to check on Hayley and see if she needs anything before dinner.”

Hayley smiles, her expression mixed with gratitude and a hint of disappointment. “I’m fine, Rebekah. Thank you.”

Rebekah nods and gives Elijah a meaningful look before leaving the room. Elijah turns back to Hayley, his expression softer than before.

“I guess it’s not the right time,” he says quietly, his voice filled with regret.

Hayley reaches out and places a hand on his. “It’s not that. It’s just… there’s so much going on right now. I need to focus on the baby and everything that’s happening.”

Elijah nods, his heart heavy but understanding. “Of course. We’ll take things one step at a time. I’m here for you, Hayley, no matter what.”

As the evening settles in, the connection between Elijah and Hayley remains unspoken but palpable. The bond they share is a source of solace and strength amidst the chaos, and though their feelings are complicated by the circumstances, they both find comfort in knowing they have each other.

As the days continue to pass, the Mikaelson mansion settles into a semblance of routine, despite the underlying tension. Hayley’s pregnancy progresses, and with it, the atmosphere in the house becomes a delicate balance between the fragile peace maintained by Elijah and Rebekah and the storm brewing with Klaus’s continued resentment.

Unbeknownst to the Mikaelsons, the witches in the French Quarter have been closely monitoring the situation. Their interest in Hayley’s pregnancy is more than mere curiosity. it’s part of a carefully orchestrated plan.

One evening, Sophie Deveraux and her fellow witches gather in a hidden meeting place, away from prying eyes. The room is dimly lit, filled with the scent of burning sage and the soft glow of candlelight. The air is charged with an undercurrent of dark magic, and the witches’ murmurs are laced with anticipation and intrigue.

“We’ve been watching the situation closely,” Sophie begins, her voice low but commanding. “The child Hayley carries is of significant interest to us. It has the potential to tip the balance of power in our favor.”

A witch named Leah, younger and more impulsive, speaks up. “But the Mikaelsons are powerful. If they find out what we’re planning…”

Sophie raises a hand to silence her. “They won’t find out if we do this right. We need to be strategic. The child is not just a pawn; it’s an opportunity. By taking the baby once it’s born, we can leverage it to gain favor and possibly control over the Mikaelsons.”

Another witch, Maria, a more experienced and cautious member of the coven, adds, “And what about Hayley? She’s an ally of the Mikaelsons. If we take the child, she’ll be a liability. We need to consider how to deal with her as well.”

Sophie’s gaze sharpens. “We’ll need to ensure that Hayley is rendered powerless to interfere. It’s crucial that we act quickly and discreetly. The longer we wait, the more likely it is that the Mikaelsons will discover our plans.”

The witches nod in agreement, their expressions a mixture of determination and eagerness. Sophie’s plan is bold and risky, but she’s confident in their ability to execute it. The power and influence they could gain from such a move are too enticing to ignore.

Meanwhile, in the mansion, Hayley is enjoying a rare moment of tranquility. She sits in the garden, a place that has become her sanctuary. The warm sun on her face and the gentle breeze offer a brief respite from the constant strain. Elijah joins her, carrying a tray with a light meal and fresh lemonade.

“You seem more at ease today,” Elijah observes, setting the tray down and taking a seat beside her.

Hayley smiles faintly, her hand resting on her belly. “It’s the little things that help. The garden is peaceful, and it’s moments like these that make everything feel a bit more normal.”

Elijah watches her with a tender gaze, his feelings for her growing stronger with each passing day. “I’m glad you find some comfort here. We’re doing everything we can to make sure you and the baby are safe.”

Hayley nods, her expression thoughtful. “I know. I appreciate everything you and Rebekah have done for me. It means a lot, especially when things feel so uncertain.”

Their conversation is interrupted by the distant sound of footsteps. Rebekah approaches, her face showing a mix of concern and resolve. “Elijah, Hayley, I need to speak with you both for a moment.”

Elijah stands, offering Hayley a supportive smile before following Rebekah to a quieter corner of the garden. Hayley remains seated, her thoughts drifting to the conversation she’d had with Elijah and the growing bond between them.

As Rebekah and Elijah converse in hushed tones, their discussion is focused on the latest developments and their concerns about Klaus’s continued detachment. They’ve been working tirelessly to ensure Hayley’s safety, but with the witches’ plans unknown to them, there’s an added layer of danger that they are not yet aware of.

Sophie and her coven, where they are finalizing their plan. The witches prepare for the next phase of their scheme, confident that their calculated approach will allow them to seize the opportunity when the time comes.

Their conversation concludes, and the witches begin to disperse, each focused on their assigned tasks. Sophie remains behind, her eyes reflecting a cold determination. The plan to take Hayley’s baby is set in motion, and she is resolved to see it through, no matter the cost.

Back in the mansion, the sense of normalcy is only a facade. The impending threat from the witches looms on the horizon, an unseen danger that threatens to disrupt the fragile equilibrium that Elijah and Rebekah have worked so hard to maintain. As Hayley and the Mikaelsons continue their lives, they remain blissfully unaware of the dark forces conspiring against them, waiting for the moment to strike.

The stage is set for a confrontation that will test the limits of their strength, loyalty, and resolve. For now, the mansion continues its uneasy peace, but the shadows are growing longer, and the threat of the witches’ plan casts a dark cloud over the future.

The tension in the mansion is nearly unbearable as days stretch on, and the looming threat from the witches remains unseen by the Mikaelsons. Elijah, growing increasingly frustrated with Klaus’s obstinacy, decides to confront his brother directly. The hope is that by appealing to Klaus’s sense of family and responsibility, he might finally break through the stubborn wall of resentment.

One evening, Elijah finds Klaus in his study, a room filled with artifacts and relics that reflect Klaus’s long history. Klaus is brooding over a glass of wine, the dim light casting shadows across his face. Elijah enters, his expression a mix of determination and weariness.

“Niklaus, we need to talk,” Elijah begins, his voice firm but calm.

Klaus looks up, his eyes narrowing. “What is it now, Elijah? Haven’t you made enough attempts to ‘talk’ with me?”

Elijah takes a deep breath, trying to maintain his composure. “This isn’t just about our family feud or your personal grievances. This is about Hayley and the baby. Your continued hostility is doing nothing but causing more harm.”

Klaus’s face hardens, his eyes flashing with defiance. “You don’t understand, Elijah. I never wanted any of this. I didn’t ask for this child to come into our lives, and I certainly didn’t ask for the complications that have followed.”

Elijah’s frustration is evident, but he keeps his voice steady. “It’s not about what you wanted or didn’t want. It’s about the reality we’re facing now. Hayley is carrying your child. Regardless of how you feel about her, you have a responsibility. Running away from it won’t change anything.”

Klaus stands, his posture rigid and defensive. “Responsibility? You think I’m avoiding my responsibilities? I’m trying to protect what’s left of my family from becoming entangled in this mess. The more we involve ourselves, the more danger we invite.”

Elijah’s patience wears thin, but he tries to stay calm. “And what about Hayley? What about the child? You’re ignoring the fact that your actions. or lack thereof are affecting them deeply. You’re pushing them away, and that’s not helping anyone.”

Klaus’s gaze hardens further, a mixture of anger and resentment surfacing. “You don’t understand what it’s like, Elijah. I’ve been betrayed, hunted, and tormented for centuries. Why should I suddenly care about this child? Why should I pretend that everything’s fine?”

Elijah steps closer, his voice rising with frustration. “Because it’s the right thing to do! We’ve always been a family, despite our flaws. And now, more than ever, we need to come together. If you can’t see that, then you’re losing sight of what truly matters.”

Klaus’s expression falters momentarily, a flicker of vulnerability showing through his anger. But he quickly masks it with a scowl. “I’m not going to stand here and listen to you lecture me about what matters. I’ve made my decisions, and I’m not changing them.”

Elijah’s shoulders sag in resignation. He takes a step back, his disappointment evident. “Very well. But don’t expect us to stand by quietly while you refuse to see reason. We will protect Hayley and the baby, with or without your help.”

With that, Elijah turns and leaves the study, the door closing behind him with a definitive click. Klaus remains standing, the weight of Elijah’s words lingering in the air. He stares at the wine in his glass, the reflection of his own frustration and isolation staring back at him.

As Elijah walks away, he feels a deep sense of concern. Klaus’s refusal to acknowledge the importance of their situation is disheartening, but Elijah knows that he cannot give up. The stakes are too high, and the consequences of inaction are too great.

In the quiet of the mansion, the distance between Klaus and the rest of the family feels more pronounced than ever. Elijah and Rebekah are left to navigate the turbulent waters on their own, their efforts to support Hayley and prepare for the challenges ahead made even more difficult by Klaus’s obstinacy.

The threat from the witches remains a looming shadow, and the Mikaelsons must face the reality of their situation. With Klaus unwilling to listen, the burden falls on Elijah and Rebekah to protect Hayley and the unborn child from the dangers that lie ahead, while also trying to mend the rift within their family.

The compound, once a symbol of unity and power, now stands as a battleground of unresolved conflicts and impending threats. And as the days move forward, the challenges facing the Mikaelsons become ever more apparent, with the stakes growing higher and the need for unity more urgent than ever.

The tension within the mansion reaches a new height as the days stretch on, and the challenges of Hayley’s pregnancy continue to weigh heavily on everyone. Klaus’s continued distance and refusal to acknowledge his role in the situation have become a source of increasing frustration for his siblings.

In the midst of this turmoil, Rebekah reaches a breaking point. After Elijah’s failed attempt to reason with Klaus, Rebekah decides to confront her brother herself, hoping that a more personal approach might break through his stubbornness.

One evening, as the house settles into a quiet she finds Klaus in the study, the same room where Elijah had earlier confronted him. Klaus is once again brooding over a glass of wine, his thoughts clearly troubled. Rebekah enters, her expression resolute and her posture firm.

“Klaus, we need to talk,” Rebekah begins, her voice steady but laced with frustration.

Klaus looks up, a trace of irritation crossing his features. “What more is there to discuss, Rebekah? I’ve already made my position clear.”

Rebekah steps closer, her eyes filled with a mixture of anger and desperation. “It’s not about what you’ve made clear. It’s about the reality of the situation. That child. your child will be born soon, and you’re acting like it doesn’t matter.”

Klaus’s face hardens, his defenses rising. “I’ve told you, I never wanted this. I never asked for this complication in my life.”

Rebekah’s frustration boils over. “How can you be so callous? That child is yours. You made it. And despite everything, it’s a part of you. How do you think that child will feel knowing that their father doesn’t care about them? That he actively chooses to ignore their existence?”

Klaus’s expression flickers with something guilt, regret, or perhaps a mix of both. But he quickly masks it with a scowl. “I’m protecting the family. I’m protecting everyone from the consequences of this situation.”

Rebekah shakes her head, her voice rising with emotion. “Protecting them? Or are you just afraid to face your own feelings? That child will grow up knowing that their father never loved them, never cared for them. Do you think that’s what’s best for them? To be a reminder of something unwanted and unacknowledged?”

Klaus’s gaze drops to his glass, his knuckles white as he grips it tightly. “You don’t understand, Rebekah. I’ve always had to guard myself, to protect my heart from being hurt. I didn’t want this child to be another source of pain.”

Rebekah’s voice softens, but her determination remains. “Klaus, you can’t protect yourself from everything. Sometimes, you have to face your fears, your emotions. That child deserves to know that they’re loved, even if it’s difficult for you. They deserve to know that their father was willing to make an effort, to show that he cared.”

Klaus’s defenses begin to crumble under Rebekah’s impassioned words. He looks up, his eyes haunted by a mix of fear and regret. “And what if I can’t? What if I’m too afraid to give them what they need?”

Rebekah steps closer, her voice a mixture of compassion and resolve. “Then you need to find a way to overcome that fear. For the sake of the child, for Hayley, and for the sake of the family. We’re all in this together. You can’t just shut yourself off and expect everything to turn out fine.”

Klaus remains silent, his gaze distant as he processes her words. The weight of his responsibilities and fears seems to press down on him, leaving him at a crossroads. Rebekah’s words resonate with him, but the path forward remains unclear.

Rebekah takes a deep breath, her expression softening. “I’m not asking you to change overnight, Klaus. Just… think about what’s truly important. The family, the child, and what kind of person you want to be for them. We all make mistakes, but we also have the chance to make things right.”

With that, Rebekah turns and leaves the study, her heart heavy but hopeful. Klaus remains behind, the silence of the room a stark contrast to the heated conversation that had just taken place. He’s left alone with his thoughts, the echoes of Rebekah’s words reverberating through his mind.

As the night deepens, Klaus contemplates his next steps. The walls he’s built around himself seem to be eroding, and the reality of his situation becomes more pressing. Rebekah’s plea for him to embrace his role as a father and to show love for his child challenges him to confront his own fears and insecurities.

In the quiet of the mansion, the delicate balance of emotions and responsibilities continues to shift. With Rebekah’s heartfelt plea and Elijah’s unwavering support, the hope remains that Klaus will eventually find a way to reconcile his fears and take his place as a father, embracing the challenges and responsibilities that come with it.

The atmosphere in the mansion remains tense and strained as the days continue to pass. Elijah, having already confronted Klaus to little effect, decides to make one last, earnest attempt to reach his brother. He understands that Klaus is stubborn and reluctant, but he believes that there is still a chance to make him see the significance of the situation.

One evening, Elijah finds Klaus alone in the study once more, the room dimly lit by the soft glow of a single lamp. Klaus is seated at his desk, papers scattered before him, but his mind seems distant. Elijah approaches, his demeanor resolute yet calm.

“Klaus,” Elijah begins, his voice steady, “I know that you don’t want to talk and that you’re not inclined to listen. But just hear me out.”

Klaus looks up from his desk, a mixture of irritation and curiosity in his eyes. “What more is there to say, Elijah? I’ve made my position clear.”

Elijah steps closer, his expression earnest. “I understand that you’re struggling with this situation. I do. But you need to see the bigger picture. This baby… it’s not just a complication. It’s something more.”

Klaus’s gaze narrows, his skepticism apparent. “And what exactly is it supposed to be? Just another burden to bear?”

Elijah shakes his head, his voice filled with conviction. “No, Klaus. The baby is going to be our hope. Our hope for the future of the Mikaelson family. Despite everything that’s happened, this child represents a new beginning a chance for redemption and unity.”

Klaus’s expression remains guarded, but Elijah can see the flicker of curiosity in his eyes. “Hope? Redemption? You can’t be serious.”

Elijah’s tone softens, his eyes filled with a mixture of hope and desperation. “I am serious. The Mikaelson family has endured countless trials and betrayals. We’ve faced darkness and hardship. But this child… this child could be a symbol of something better. It’s a chance for us to heal, to come together, and to build something new.”

Klaus’s gaze drifts to the window, his expression contemplative. “And you really believe that this child can change everything? That it will somehow fix what’s been broken?”

Elijah nods, his voice filled with quiet conviction. “I do believe it. I believe that this child represents more than just a continuation of our family line. It’s a chance for us to start fresh, to move beyond our past mistakes and create a future where we can find peace and unity.”

Klaus remains silent for a moment, the weight of Elijah’s words settling over him. He’s always been a man driven by his fears and insecurities, but Elijah’s plea resonates with a part of him that’s yearning for something more a chance to mend the broken pieces of his life and his family.

Elijah takes a deep breath, his expression hopeful. “Klaus, I know this is difficult. I know it’s not what you wanted or expected. But sometimes, the greatest challenges bring the greatest opportunities. This child could be our chance to finally find what we’ve all been searching for hope, redemption, and a chance to rebuild.”

Klaus’s expression softens slightly, a hint of the conflict within him visible. “And what if I can’t be what you need me to be? What if I’m too afraid to embrace this?”

Elijah places a hand on Klaus’s shoulder, his voice filled with empathy. “Then you take it one step at a time. You don’t have to be perfect. You just have to try. For the sake of the child, for Hayley, and for the future of our family.”

Klaus’s gaze meets Elijah’s, and for the first time, there’s a glimmer of vulnerability in his eyes. The walls he’s built around himself seem to be cracking, and the possibility of change, though daunting, begins to take shape.

Elijah offers a reassuring smile, hoping that Klaus will take the first step towards accepting his role and embracing the hope that the child represents. With that, Elijah turns and leaves the study, giving Klaus the space to process the weight of their conversation.

As the night settles over the mansion, Klaus is left alone with his thoughts, the echoes of Elijah’s words resonating in his mind. The idea of the child as a symbol of hope and redemption challenges his long held beliefs and fears, presenting him with a choice that could define the future of the Mikaelson family.

The mansion, once a place of discord and struggle, now holds the potential for change. The journey ahead is uncertain, but with Elijah’s heartfelt plea and the promise of a new beginning, there’s a glimmer of hope that the family may find a way to heal and unite, starting with the new life that’s about to enter their world.

As the night deepens, Elijah finds Hayley in the garden, her sanctuary amidst the chaos of the mansion. She’s seated on a bench, her hands resting gently on her growing belly. The garden’s tranquility provides a temporary escape from the tumultuous atmosphere inside the house. Elijah approaches, his expression thoughtful.

“Hayley,” Elijah begins softly, “I wanted to talk to you about something important.”

Hayley looks up, her expression curious and a bit weary. “What is it, Elijah?”

Elijah takes a seat beside her, his tone earnest. “I’ve been speaking with Klaus, trying to make him see the significance of the situation. I believe that this baby, your child… it’s more than just a new life. It’s a symbol of hope for the Mikaelson family.”

Hayley furrows her brow, clearly puzzled. “Hope? I don’t understand. How can a baby be a symbol of hope for your family? It seems like such a heavy burden to place on a child.”

Elijah nods, understanding her confusion. “It’s not just about the child carrying a burden. It’s about what this child represents. For us, the Mikaelsons, this baby is a chance for a new beginning. a chance to mend old wounds and find a path towards redemption.”

Hayley’s eyes search Elijah’s face, trying to grasp the full meaning of his words. “But what if Klaus doesn’t see it that way? What if he never comes around?”

Elijah’s expression is a mix of determination and concern. “I’m hopeful that he will. We’ve faced so much darkness and strife. This child could be the catalyst for change, a way for us to come together as a family and start anew. It’s a chance for us to rebuild and find a way forward.”

Hayley remains silent for a moment, processing Elijah’s words. The idea of the baby being a beacon of hope is both daunting and comforting. “I want to believe that. I really do. But right now, it feels like everything is falling apart.”

Elijah places a reassuring hand on her shoulder. “It may seem that way now, but sometimes the greatest changes come from the most difficult circumstances. We have to hold on to hope, even when it’s hard to see.”

As their conversation continues, the scene shifts to the French Quarter, where the witches are gathered once again in their hidden meeting place. The air is thick with the scent of burning herbs and the murmur of incantations. Sophie Deveraux and her coven are deep in discussion, their focus on the impending birth of Hayley’s child.

“We’ve observed that the Mikaelsons are placing great importance on this child,” Sophie says, her tone contemplative. “They see it as their hope for redemption and a new beginning.”

Leah, one of the younger witches, looks up with curiosity. “Does this change our plans?”

Sophie shakes her head, her expression determined. “No. If anything, it makes our actions even more crucial. The more they invest in this child, the more devastating it will be for them when we take it from them.”

Maria, an experienced witch, adds, “And what about Hayley? She’s already vulnerable. If we remove the child, we’ll need to be prepared for her reaction.”

Sophie’s gaze sharpens with resolve. “We’ll handle Hayley as needed. Our primary goal is to ensure that the Mikaelsons are thrown into chaos. By taking the child, we’ll not only gain leverage but also demonstrate our power. The Mikaelsons have always underestimated us. This is our chance to show them what we’re capable of.”

The witches nod in agreement, their faces set with determination. The plan to take the child remains firmly in place, with the goal of exploiting the family’s emotional investment in the baby.

As the meeting concludes, the witches disperse, each focused on their part of the scheme. Sophie remains behind, her thoughts centered on the impending birth and the potential impact of their actions.

Back in the mansion, Elijah and Hayley’s conversation comes to a close, leaving Hayley with a mixture of hope and apprehension. The promise of a new beginning is tempered by the reality of the challenges they face. As she prepares to return inside, her thoughts are heavy with the uncertainty of the future.

The stage is set for a dramatic clash between the Mikaelsons and the witches. With the baby representing both hope and vulnerability, the coming days will test the strength and resilience of the family, as they confront the dark forces conspiring against them and navigate the path to redemption and unity.

In the dimly lit room, Hayley sat with a laptop open on her lap, her attention focused on the screen. She typed with a sense of purpose, the glow from the monitor casting a soft light on her face. The atmosphere was calm, punctuated only by the gentle tapping of the keyboard.

Klaus stood a short distance away, his back facing Hayley. He glanced over his shoulder, a subtle smile forming on his lips as he observed her from afar. There was a quiet, almost detached curiosity in his expression, his emotions masked behind a calm exterior.

Hayley paused her typing and looked up, catching Klaus’s reflection in the laptop screen. “I think it’s going to be a girl,” she said, her tone revealing a mix of certainty and hope.

Klaus’s smile remained, but he said nothing in response. Instead, he turned his gaze back to the window, allowing the moment to

Klaus was pacing the grand halls of the compound, his thoughts heavy with the weight of his responsibilities. The usual calm of the estate was disrupted by a sudden sense of urgency that had taken hold of him. As he walked past the lounge, he caught sight of Hayley, who was sitting on a sofa, her face contorted in pain.

“Klaus...” she said weakly as he approached, her hand resting on her abdomen.

Klaus’s heart tightened. He knelt beside her, his usual composure replaced by genuine worry. “What’s happening? Are you in pain?”

Hayley nodded, her face pale. “It’s been getting worse. I didn’t want to worry you, but I can’t seem to make it stop.”

Without hesitation, Klaus stood and called for one of the trusted witches who frequented the compound. “I need you here now,” he instructed, his voice urgent. “Hayley’s in pain, and we need your help.”

The witch arrived promptly, her expression serious as she assessed Hayley’s condition. She began muttering incantations and performing a series of tests, her concentration intense. Klaus stood nearby, his anxiety palpable as he watched her work.

As the minutes ticked by, Klaus’s mind raced. He glanced at Hayley, her pained expression a stark reminder of the life she carried. The weight of his feelings for their unborn child began to settle on him, revealing a depth of emotion he had previously ignored.

When the witch finally looked up, her expression a mix of relief and reassurance, Klaus felt a wave of tension lift. “The child is fine,” she said. “It’s just a bit of stress. Hayley needs to rest.”

Klaus exhaled deeply, the realization hitting him with full force. The fear and relief he felt were more than just concern for Hayley; they were tied to the child she was carrying. He understood now how deeply he cared for this unborn life, a realization that left him both unsettled and enlightened.

As the witch left and Klaus helped Hayley settle more comfortably, he remained by her side. His gaze lingered on her with newfound understanding, the realization of his love for their child settling within him like a revelation. The compound’s grandeur seemed to fade in comparison to the personal, emotional journey he was undergoing.

Ever since that day at the compound, Klaus’s demeanor had subtly changed. The revelation of his deep-seated feelings for his unborn child had transformed his interactions with Hayley. Where he once kept a cautious distance, he now sought moments to connect with her and the baby growing within her.

Each day, Klaus found himself gravitating towards Hayley. He would spend hours in her company, sitting beside her as she rested. His presence, once reserved and distant, became a constant, supportive anchor.

Klaus took to gently placing his hand on Hayley’s belly, feeling the subtle movements of the baby beneath his palm. He would talk softly to the unborn child, his voice carrying a tender warmth. “Hello, little one,” he would say with a rare softness in his tone. “I’m your father. I promise to do everything I can to protect you.”

Hayley watched these moments with a quiet smile, touched by Klaus’s newfound commitment. She could see the change in him. his actions spoke of a love that had blossomed, a bond forming despite the complexities of their past.

Klaus’s care extended beyond words. He would often bring small gifts for the baby, things he thought would be useful or meaningful. He attended to Hayley’s needs with a dedicated attentiveness, ensuring she was comfortable and supported.

In the quiet moments of the evening, Klaus would sit by Hayley’s side, reading to her and the baby from his favorite books. His voice, once cold and commanding, now carried a soothing cadence, creating a comforting environment for both mother and child.

As the days turned into weeks, Klaus’s commitment to his unborn child became more apparent. His once distant, guarded demeanor was replaced with a genuine, nurturing presence. The bond he shared with Hayley and their baby was now a defining part of his life. a new chapter he embraced with an unexpected, heartfelt devotion.

The changes in Klaus did not go unnoticed by his siblings. Elijah and Rebekah had observed Klaus's newfound devotion and were quietly pleased by the transformation. His once aloof demeanor had softened, and the way he interacted with Hayley and the unborn child revealed a depth of feeling they hadn’t seen before.

One evening, as they gathered in the family lounge, Rebekah turned to Elijah, her eyes reflecting both relief and happiness. “Have you noticed that he’s been so different? so much more engaged and caring.”

Elijah nodded, a rare smile touching his lips. “I have noticed. It seems that he’s finally found something that truly matters to him. It’s as if the impending arrival of his child has given him a new purpose.”

Rebekah’s eyes sparkled with warmth. “It’s good to see him like this. The baby will bring a new dynamic to our family. one that we’ve needed.”

Elijah agreed, a thoughtful expression on his face. “I think it’s time for Kol and Freya to come back. This child. our niece or nephew. is going to be a beacon of hope for the family. We should let them know.”

Elijah picked up the phone and dialed Kol’s number. After a few rings, Kol’s familiar voice answered. “Elijah, what’s going on?”

“Elijah here. I hope you’re well. I’m calling because there’s news that I believe you need to hear. Klaus has changed remarkably. He’s been deeply involved with Hayley and the baby. It’s clear now that this child will be more than just a new member of our family. This baby is to be the hope for us all.”

Kol’s curiosity piqued. “The hope? Explain.”

“Our family has faced countless challenges,” Elijah continued. “But with this child, Klaus is finding a new sense of purpose. This baby represents a chance for a new beginning. a chance for healing and unity. It’s important that you come back. We need to come together as a family for this new chapter.”

Kol paused, taking in the weight of Elijah’s words. “I see. I’ll make arrangements to return. This is significant. Thank you for letting me know.”

As the call ended, Elijah turned to Rebekah, his expression resolute. “Kol will be back soon. It’s important that we support Klaus and this child, and ensure that our family remains united through this new beginning.”

Rebekah nodded, her smile broadening. “It’s a hopeful sign, Elijah. We’re on the brink of something new, and it’s about time.”

As Elijah and Rebekah prepared for Kol’s return, the atmosphere within the compound was filled with a renewed sense of hope and anticipation. Klaus’s transformation was a sign of positive change, and the arrival of the baby was seen as a beacon of renewal for the family.

However, hidden from their joyous preparations, a dark plot was brewing. A faction of witches, discontent with the balance of power and fearful of the child’s potential influence, had set their sights on the unborn baby. They believed that the child’s unique heritage and potential for immense power could tip the scales in their favor, and they were determined to seize this opportunity.

The witches, led by a cunning and ambitious figure, gathered in a dimly lit, secretive lair. Their leader spoke with a voice dripping with malevolence. “The child Klaus and Hayley are expecting is not just a new member of their family; it’s a potential key to great power. We must act swiftly and decisively.”

One of the witches, a young woman with a sharp gaze, nodded. “We need to approach this carefully. The child’s protection is formidable, but we have ways of bypassing their defenses.”

As the witches made their plans, Klaus remained unaware of the impending danger. He continued to bond with Hayley and their unborn child, his efforts to prepare for the baby’s arrival growing stronger each day. His attention was solely focused on ensuring that the child would have a safe and loving environment.

Klaus and Elijah were walking through the courtyard of the compound, discussing the final preparations for the baby’s arrival and Kol’s impending return. The air was thick with anticipation, but a lingering tension undercut their conversation. Klaus, despite his newfound dedication, couldn’t shake the feeling that something ominous was on the horizon.

As they rounded a corner, they were met by a figure stepping out of the shadows. a man with a smug smile and a malicious glint in his eyes. He was someone they both recognized, an enemy from their past who had no love for the Mikaelsons.

“Ah, Klaus,” the man drawled, his voice dripping with sarcasm. “The great Original Hybrid, about to become a father. I never thought I’d see the day.”

Klaus stopped in his tracks, his eyes narrowing as he sized up the intruder. Elijah, ever composed, took a step closer to his brother, ready to support him if needed.

The man continued, his smile widening. “I can’t help but feel sorry for the child. Imagine having a father like you, Klaus. A man who has caused nothing but trouble and pain wherever he goes.”

Klaus’s jaw tightened, the man’s words striking a nerve. But before he could respond, the man took a step closer, his tone growing more venomous. “Your child doesn’t stand a chance, not with you as a father. You’ve left a trail of bodies and broken hearts across centuries. what kind of life will your child have, being raised by a monster?”

Elijah’s eyes darkened, but he remained silent, letting Klaus take the lead. He knew his brother well enough to understand that this confrontation would cut deep, yet he trusted Klaus to handle it in his own way.

Klaus stepped forward, his expression cold and dangerous. “You’d do well to watch your tongue,” he hissed, his voice low and menacing. “You know nothing of what I’ve endured, or what I’ll do to protect my child.”

The man sneered. “Protect? You’ve brought nothing but destruction to everyone around you. What makes you think you’re capable of being a father? Your child is doomed to suffer because of you.”

Klaus felt a surge of anger, but beneath it, there was a sliver of doubt. an echo of his deepest fears. Yet, as he looked at the man before him, Klaus’s resolve hardened. He refused to let this man, or anyone else, dictate his future or undermine his commitment to his child.

With a calmness that belied the storm raging inside him, Klaus replied, “My past may be bloody, but I won’t let it define my future, or my child’s. You can say what you like, but this child will know love and protection. Things I’ve learned to value in ways you’ll never understand.”

The man’s smirk faltered slightly, sensing the steely determination in Klaus’s words. Elijah stepped forward then, his presence a silent but powerful reminder of the family’s unity. “I suggest you leave, before my brother decides to show you just how much he’s changed,” Elijah warned, his voice steady and controlled.

The man hesitated, then took a step back, recognizing the danger he was in. “We’ll see, Klaus. We’ll see if you can really change.” With that, he turned and melted back into the shadows, leaving Klaus and Elijah alone once more.

As the figure disappeared, Elijah looked at Klaus, his expression a mix of concern and support. “You handled that well, brother,” he said softly.

Klaus nodded, though his eyes remained fixed on the spot where the man had stood. “I won’t let anyone threaten my family,” he murmured, more to himself than to Elijah. “Not now, not ever.”

Elijah placed a reassuring hand on Klaus’s shoulder. “And you won’t have to. We’re all in this together, Klaus. We’ll protect this child, no matter what.”

Klaus turned to his brother, his expression softening slightly. “Thank you, Elijah,” he said quietly. “I’ll do whatever it takes to ensure that.”

With that, the brothers continued their walk, but the encounter lingered in their minds. a reminder that while Klaus had made strides toward change, the world still held those who doubted his capacity for it. And as the days ahead would prove, the challenges to his resolve were far from over.

Sheriff Elizabeth Forbes sat in her office, the quiet of the evening settling around her as she went through the last of the day’s paperwork. Her mind, however, wasn’t on the reports in front of her. Instead, it drifted to thoughts of her daughter, Caroline. Though Caroline was now an adult and carving out her own path, Elizabeth couldn’t help but feel a longing in her heart—a desire for the days when she had a child to raise and care for.

As the door to her office creaked open, Sheriff Rodriguez, a fellow officer and longtime acquaintance, strolled in with his usual swagger. He leaned against the doorframe, a smirk playing on his lips as he observed Elizabeth’s pensive expression.

“Lost in thought, Liz?” Rodriguez asked, his tone casual yet inquisitive.

Elizabeth looked up, her thoughts momentarily interrupted. “Just thinking about Caroline. She’s all grown up now. I can’t help but miss having a child to raise, someone who still needs me.”

Rodriguez raised an eyebrow, intrigued. “You’re not the type to get all sentimental, Liz. But I get it. Kids grow up fast, don’t they?”

Elizabeth sighed, leaning back in her chair. “They do. And as proud as I am of Caroline, I miss the days when she was younger. I guess I’m just... feeling a bit nostalgic.”

Rodriguez’s smirk deepened, a glint of something mischievous in his eyes. “Well, if it’s another kid you’re looking to raise, I might have a lead for you.”

Elizabeth looked at him curiously. “What are you talking about?”

Rodriguez stepped further into the room, lowering his voice as if sharing a secret. “I’ve heard some interesting gossip around town. Word is, the Original Hybrid Klaus Mikaelson. and a werewolf are expecting a baby.”

Elizabeth’s eyes widened slightly, her interest piqued. “Klaus Mikaelson? The same Klaus who’s been wreaking havoc in New Orleans and Mystic Falls? And he’s having a child?”

Rodriguez nodded, his smirk never fading. “That’s right. And you know, with all the trouble he’s caused over the years, some folks are wondering if that baby might end up needing a more... stable environment. Someone with experience raising a child in a complicated world.”

Elizabeth frowned, her thoughts racing. The idea of Klaus Mikaelson being a father was hard to reconcile with the image of the ruthless, dangerous hybrid she knew. But the idea of a vulnerable child being brought into such a turbulent situation stirred something protective within her.

“I don’t know, Rodriguez,” Elizabeth said cautiously. “That’s a dangerous situation. But... if that child ever needed help, I’d want to be there for them.”

Rodriguez shrugged, his smirk turning into a more serious expression. “Just something to think about, Liz. That baby could end up being more important than any of us realize. And if anyone’s got the experience to step in, it’s you.”

Elizabeth nodded slowly, her mind now fully engaged with the implications of what Rodriguez had suggested. As he left her office, she sat quietly, contemplating the possibility of becoming involved in the life of the unborn child of the most feared supernatural being in Mystic Falls.

The thought was daunting, but also strangely appealing. And though she didn’t yet know how things would unfold, Elizabeth Forbes felt a new sense of purpose stirring within her.

Rebekah and Elijah sat in one of the quieter rooms of the compound, discussing the future with a mix of hope and trepidation. The upcoming arrival of Klaus and Hayley’s baby had brought a new dynamic to their family, and they both felt the weight of the responsibility that lay ahead.

“I’ve been thinking about the baby,” Rebekah said, her voice soft yet thoughtful. “It’s incredible to see Klaus so involved, so caring. I never thought I’d see this side of him.”

Elijah nodded, a fond smile touching his lips. “It’s true. The child has already changed him in ways I didn’t think possible. There’s a vulnerability in him now, a sense of purpose that’s quite remarkable.”

Rebekah leaned back, her expression dreamy. “Do you think it’s going to be a girl? I’ve always imagined Klaus having a daughter. Someone who can bring out the best in him, someone he’d be fiercely protective of.”

Elijah considered her words. “Hayley seems to believe it will be a girl. She has a mother’s intuition, and I wouldn’t be surprised if she’s right. Regardless, boy or girl, this child will be loved and protected by all of us.”

As they continued their conversation, Hayley was sitting in her room, a laptop on her lap as she browsed through various baby items. She couldn’t shake the feeling that she was carrying a daughter, and the thought filled her with a sense of joy and anticipation.

Hearing footsteps, she looked up to see Klaus entering the room. He approached her with his usual grace, a tender smile playing on his lips as he saw the glow in her eyes.

“Klaus,” Hayley said, her voice soft but excited. “I’ve been thinking... I really believe we’re having a girl.”

Klaus raised an eyebrow, his interest piqued. “A girl, you say? And what makes you so certain?”

Hayley placed a hand on her belly, a warm smile spreading across her face. “I just have this feeling. Call it a mother’s intuition, but I’m convinced. Our daughter is going to be strong and beautiful, just like her father.”

Klaus’s expression softened as he sat beside Hayley, placing a hand gently on her belly. “A daughter,” he mused, his voice filled with a mix of wonder and pride. “I suppose I could imagine that. She’d be fierce, undoubtedly. And I’d do everything in my power to protect her.”

Hayley nodded, her eyes shining with affection. “I know you will, Klaus. And she’ll be lucky to have you as her father.”

Klaus looked at her, his smile widening. “And she’ll be lucky to have you as her mother, Hayley. We’ll make sure she has everything she needs, and more.”

As they sat together, imagining the future with their daughter, the bond between them grew stronger. Despite the challenges they had faced, and those yet to come, they felt united in their commitment to the life they were bringing into the world.

Unbeknownst to them, the conversation between Rebekah and Elijah continued nearby, filled with similar hopes and dreams for the baby’s arrival. The Mikaelson family, despite its many trials, was coming together in anticipation of a new beginning. One that promised both challenges and profound joy.

Elijah was in his study, reviewing some old texts as he pondered the future of their family. The atmosphere in the compound had shifted significantly with the impending arrival of Klaus and Hayley’s child, and Elijah was determined to ensure that everything was in place for the new addition. His thoughts were interrupted by the sound of his phone ringing. Glancing at the caller ID, he saw it was Kol.

A small smile formed on Elijah’s lips as he answered, “Kol, I’ve been expecting your call. Are you on your way?”

On the other end of the line, Kol’s voice was sharp and laced with bitterness. “Elijah, I’ve changed my mind. I won’t be coming back. Why should I? What’s the point when Klaus still has those daggers and the same penchant for using them on us?”

Elijah’s smile faded, replaced by concern. “Kol, you know that things have changed. Klaus is different now. He’s preparing for the birth of his child, our niece or nephew. This baby is going to be the hope our family needs. the hope you need.”

Kol let out a dry, humorless laugh. “Hope? You’re telling me that this child, Klaus’s child, is going to be our salvation? Forgive me if I find that hard to believe. I’ve spent centuries watching Klaus tear our family apart, and now you expect me to believe that he’s suddenly a changed man because he’s going to be a father?”

“Kol,” Elijah began, trying to keep his voice calm, “I understand your doubts, but this child is different. Klaus is different. We have a chance to start anew, to be the family we’ve always wanted to be. This child represents a future we’ve never had. a future worth fighting for.”

But Kol wasn’t swayed. “You talk about hope, Elijah, but all I see is the same cycle repeating itself. Klaus may be playing the doting father now, but how long before he reverts to his old ways? How long before one of us ends up with a dagger in our chest again?”

Elijah took a deep breath, knowing that convincing Kol wouldn’t be easy. “Kol, I can’t force you to return, but I ask you to consider this: we’ve all suffered at Klaus’s hands, but we’ve also seen the potential for change in him. This child is a chance for all of us to heal, to rebuild. I believe in that hope, and I believe that you could, too.”

There was a long pause on the other end of the line, and for a moment, Elijah thought Kol might be reconsidering. But then Kol spoke, his tone colder than before. “You’re a fool, Elijah. You’re blinded by your need to see the good in Klaus. I’ve lived through too many of his betrayals to believe that anything will change now. If you want to place your faith in this child, go ahead. But I refuse to be dragged into another one of Klaus’s schemes. I don’t believe in hope, and I certainly don’t believe in him.”

With that, the line went dead. Elijah stared at the phone in his hand, a deep sense of disappointment washing over him. Kol’s words had cut deep, not because Elijah doubted Klaus or the future they were building, but because he knew how much his brother’s cynicism stemmed from the pain they had all endured.

Rebekah entered the room, noticing the troubled expression on Elijah’s face. “What’s wrong, Elijah? Who was that?”

Elijah sighed, setting the phone down. “It was Kol. He’s decided not to return. He doesn’t believe in the hope this child represents. He’s still holding on to the past, to the pain Klaus has caused us.”

Rebekah frowned, her heart sinking. “Kol’s always been the most stubborn of us. But maybe in time, he’ll come around. Maybe once the baby is born, he’ll see that things can be different.”

Elijah nodded, though the weight of Kol’s words lingered. “Perhaps. But for now, we must continue to prepare without him. This child will be our hope, even if Kol doesn’t believe it yet.”

As Rebekah reached out to place a comforting hand on Elijah’s shoulder, they both knew that the road ahead would be fraught with challenges. But no matter the obstacles, they were determined to protect their family and the future that rested on the tiny heartbeat growing within Hayley.

Rebekah wandered through the halls of the Mikaelson compound, lost in her thoughts about the recent conversation with Elijah. The anticipation of the baby’s arrival was palpable, and despite the lingering tension with Kol, she felt a sense of hope that had been absent for far too long.

As she passed by one of the rooms, she paused, noticing the door slightly ajar. Curious, she peeked inside and was met with a sight she never expected to see.

Klaus was in the middle of the room, focused intently on his task. The walls were freshly painted a soft, delicate pink, with whimsical princess designs decorating the space. A beautifully crafted crib stood against one wall, and Klaus was carefully assembling what appeared to be a princess castle, its intricate details already taking shape. Nearby, a changing table had been meticulously put together, ready for the arrival of the baby.

For a moment, Rebekah simply watched, a soft smile spreading across her face. It was a rare sight to see Klaus like this. so focused, so invested in something other than power or revenge. This was a side of him she hadn’t seen in centuries, a side she’d almost forgotten existed.

She stepped into the room quietly, not wanting to disturb him, but Klaus sensed her presence and looked up, meeting her gaze.

Rebekah smiled warmly. “So, it’s official then? You and Hayley think it’s going to be a girl.”

Klaus returned her smile, though there was a hint of pride in his eyes. “It would seem so. Hayley is quite convinced, and I find myself hoping she’s right. A daughter... it feels right.”

Rebekah walked over to the crib, running her hand along the smooth wood. “A princess for the Original Hybrid. Who would have thought?” She glanced at Klaus, her smile growing. “I have to admit, I’m impressed. You’ve really outdone yourself here, Nik.”

Klaus chuckled softly, his tone light. “If my daughter is to grow up in this world, she deserves nothing but the best. I intend to give her everything I never had, and more.”

Rebekah nodded, her heart swelling with affection for her brother. “She’ll be lucky to have you as her father. And we’ll all be here to help you, to help her.”

Klaus’s expression softened, and for a moment, he looked almost vulnerable. “This child is a chance for us, Rebekah. A chance to be the family we’ve always wanted to be. I won’t let anything happen to her, or to Hayley.”

Rebekah placed a hand on his arm, offering him a reassuring squeeze. “I know, Nik. And neither will I. We’ll protect her together.”

They stood in the nursery for a moment longer, surrounded by the soft pink walls and the promise of a new beginning. For the first time in centuries, there was a sense of peace in the compound. a sense of hope that things could be different, that the future could hold something more than the pain and conflict that had defined their lives for so long.

As Rebekah left the room, she glanced back at Klaus, who had returned to his work on the princess castle. The sight filled her with a rare sense of optimism. Despite everything they had been through, despite all the challenges that still lay ahead, they were preparing for something beautiful, something worth fighting for.

This scene highlights the deepening bond between Klaus and his unborn child, as well as Rebekah’s support and hope for their family’s future. It paints a picture of Klaus in a more tender, nurturing role, contrasting with his usual demeanor.

Later that evening, after her heartwarming encounter with Klaus, Rebekah found herself pacing in her room. The nursery had stirred feelings of family unity and hope, but she knew that two of her siblings were still missing from this crucial time. Kol and Freya. Kol’s refusal to return had already weighed heavily on her, but Freya’s absence felt even more significant. She had always been their protector, their eldest sister who had sacrificed so much for the family. Rebekah knew they needed her now more than ever.

With a determined sigh, Rebekah picked up her phone and dialed Freya’s number. It rang a few times before Freya’s voice came through, calm but guarded.

“Sister,” Freya greeted, her tone neutral. “It’s been a while. To what do I owe the pleasure?”

Rebekah smiled at the sound of her sister’s voice, though there was an underlying tension in her response. “Freya, it’s good to hear your voice. I’ve missed you. We all have.”

Freya was silent for a moment, and Rebekah could almost hear her hesitation. “I’ve missed you too, Rebekah. But I’m not sure this is the right time for me to return. You know how things are with Klaus… I’m not ready to face him again.”

Rebekah sighed, understanding Freya’s reluctance. “I know Klaus has hurt us in the past, and I won’t pretend that everything is suddenly perfect. But things are different now. He’s changing, Freya. He’s going to be a father, and it’s bringing out a side of him I haven’t seen in centuries.”

Freya’s voice softened, but there was still a note of caution. “I’ve heard about the baby. And I want to believe that it’s making him better, that it’s giving him a reason to be more than just the monster he’s been. But Rebekah, I’ve seen him destroy too much to trust that change will last. I can’t come back just to watch him fall apart again… or worse, take us all down with him.”

Rebekah felt a pang of frustration, but she kept her tone gentle. “Freya, I understand your fears. But this baby is a chance for all of us to heal, to come together as a family. We need you here, not just for the child, but for all of us. You’ve always been the one to hold us together. We can’t do this without you.”

There was another long pause, and Rebekah could sense the internal battle Freya was fighting. “Rebekah… I want to believe you. I want to believe that Klaus can be the father this child needs, the brother we need. But I’m afraid. I’m afraid of what he might do if things go wrong. I’ve lost too much already.”

Rebekah closed her eyes, wishing she could reach through the phone and hug her sister. “Freya, you’re not alone in this. We’re all afraid in our own ways. But that’s why we need to be together. This child could be the hope we’ve been searching for. Please, come back. We need you.”

Freya’s sigh was heavy with emotion. “I need some time to think, Rebekah. I’m not saying no, but I can’t say yes right now. I just… I need to be sure.”

Rebekah nodded, even though Freya couldn’t see her. “Take the time you need, Freya. But remember, we’re your family. We’ll stand by you, no matter what.”

“Thank you, Rebekah,” Freya said softly. “I’ll be in touch.”

As the call ended, Rebekah felt a mixture of hope and uncertainty. She had planted the seed, but only time would tell if Freya and Kol would find the courage to return. In the meantime, she knew she had to continue supporting Klaus and the others as they prepared for the arrival of the newest member of the Mikaelson family.

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