#there's no one I've known as long as these people and I'M overwhelmed

[linguenuvolose]

poor thing is going to have a heart attack

[cyberl6ve]

𝐉𝐄𝐀𝐋𝐎𝐔𝐒! 𝐂𝐇𝐑𝐈𝐒 — 𝐁𝐀𝐓𝐇𝐑𝐎𝐎𝐌

CHECK 𝐌𝐀𝐒𝐓𝐄𝐑𝐋𝐈𝐒𝐓 FOR MORE!! (NSFW!!)

𓈒⠀𓂃⠀⠀˖⠀𓇬⠀˖⠀⠀𓂃⠀𓈒

── .✦ : Chris and Nick Sturniolo, along with Y/N L/N, attend Tara Yummy's lavish 1 million subscribers party in LA. Chris, usually easygoing, feels an unexpected surge of jealousy when another guy starts dancing closely with Y/N. Unable to watch, Chris intervenes, pulling Y/N into a quiet corner. There, emotions ignite, leading to a passionate and revealing moment that changes everything between them.

· · ─ ·𖥸· ─ · · 𝟐𝟎𝟎 𝐅𝐎𝐋𝐋𝐎𝐖𝐄𝐑𝐒 𝐒𝐏𝐄𝐂𝐈𝐀𝐋 !! · · ─ ·𖥸· ─ · ·

⋆˙⟡ STORY CONTAINS MATURE CONTENT !! ⋆˙⟡

───── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ─────

⊱ ۫ ׅ ✧ : 𝐀𝐬 𝐍𝐢𝐜𝐤, 𝐂𝐡𝐫𝐢𝐬, 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐈 𝐚𝐩𝐩𝐫𝐨𝐚𝐜𝐡 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐫𝐚𝐧𝐜𝐞 𝐭𝐨 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐛𝐮𝐢𝐥𝐝𝐢𝐧𝐠, my heart flutters with a mix of excitement and anticipation. This night feels special, a chance to celebrate Tara's achievement while surrounded by the bustling energy of LA. The sounds of laughter and music spill out from within, adding to the lively atmosphere.

As we step inside, the opulence of the venue becomes immediately evident. The air is filled with the scent of expensive cologne and champagne, and the room is ablaze with vibrant colors from the twinkling lights hanging overhead.

I scan the crowd, taking in the sea of strangers mingling around us. People chat and laugh, sipping their drinks and enjoying the party. Nick spots a group of people he knows nearby, and he signals us to follow him as he heads over to greet them.

We follow Nick through the vibrant room until we reach a small group of familiar faces standing together. Tara, smiling widely, spots us and waves us over. Her two friends, Jake and Johnnie, turn to greet us as well.

“Hey guys!” Tara greets us, her eyes shining with excitement. “I'm so glad you made it!”

“We wouldn't miss it for the world,” Nick replies, giving her a friendly hug.

My heart is beating a little faster as I stand there, trying to act casual but feeling a bit overwhelmed by the energy in the room.

Chris greets Tara with a casual hug before she turns to me, her eyes widening with curiosity. “I don't think we’ve met?” she says, smiling warmly. “I’m Tara! Are you Chris's girlfriend or something?”

I laugh at her comment, feeling a bit embarrassed but also amused. “No, no, he wishes though” I assure her, shaking my head. “I'm Y/N! I just moved here not too long ago!”

Tara nods, seemingly intrigued by our connection. “Oh, okay,” she says. “How do you know the triplets?”

I smile, happy to share our history. “Well, I've actually known them my whole life,” I explain. “We've been friends since we were kids.”

“Really?” Tara exclaims, looking genuinely surprised. “That’s so cool! It must be nice to have known each other for so long.”

I chuckle and agree. “It's definitely tiring hearing them argue all the time,” I admit, rolling my eyes jokingly. “But there are some moments of peace too.”

I nod, my expression softening. “They're amazing though,” I add. “They've always been there for me, through thick and thin.”

Tara smiles warmly, her eyes sparkling with curiosity. “That's so sweet,” she says, gently placing a hand on my arm. “Can I ask you something?”

I smile at her question, interested in what she has to ask. “Of course, what's up?” I reply, giving her my full attention.

Tara leans closer, her voice low and conspiratorial as she asks her question: “Between Matt and Chris, since I know Nick is gay, have you ever slept with one of them?” Her words hang in the air, creating an intimate bubble between us amidst the raucous noise of the party.

Before I can respond to Tara's question, I feel Chris's hand reach for mine. His grip is firm, sending a shiver down my spine. I turn to see Chris suddenly beside me, his hand firmly holding onto mine.

I shake my head and answer Tara's question: “No, never.” She seems surprised, her eyes widening as she responds, “Never?” I laugh and confirm again, “Never.”

Tara then points between Chris and me, a curious gleam in her eyes. “There must be something going on between you two at least,” she says, arching an eyebrow.

I nod, a playful smile on my face, amused by Chris's behavior. “He gets a little overprotective sometimes,” I admit, looking at Chris's hand still holding onto mine. “That's why.”

Tara's eyes widen even further, her curiosity piqued. “Overprotective, huh?” she says, a sly smile tugging at her lips. “That definitely means something is there.”

I chuckled lightly, shrugging my shoulders as I reply, “Maybe so,” I say, my voice teasing. “We have our moments, you know, a little flirting here and there, but it's all just banter and jokes.”

Tara's smile widens, clearly intrigued by our relationship. “Oh, so there's some chemistry there,” she says, a mischievous twinkle in her eye.

I laugh, feeling a bit flustered by her insistence. “I wouldn’t go that far,” I say, trying to sound nonchalant. “It’s mostly just harmless fun.”

Before she can say anything further, Chris leans closer to me, his breath warm against my ear. He murmurs softly, “We gotta move, Nick wants to go say hi to Larray, Ma.”

I nod, my attention momentarily shifted towards the direction Nick is in. I turn back to Tara with a warm smile, saying, “I was informed that we gotta go, but it was nice knowing you! You're such a lovely person.”

Tara smiles back, looking happy to have made a new connection. “It was nice knowing you too!” she says excitedly. “Here's my number, in case you ever want to hang out or chat.”

I beam, genuinely impressed and excited to have made friends with the group. “I'll definitely hit you up!” I say to Tara, and then add, pointing to her, Jake, and Johnnie, “Also, I'm such a big fan of all of you guys!”

We make our way through the crowd, Chris still holding onto my hand. When we reach Larray, Nick says hi and embraces him. Chris then steps forward and gives Larray a friendly hug, still keeping his grip on my hand.

I watch the scene unfold, my heart rate slightly elevated from the thrill of the moment and Chris's firm hold.

Larray catches sight of me and his face lights up, breaking into a wide grin. “How you been, girl?! I'm so excited to see you again!” he exclaims, immediately moving in for a enthusiastic hug.

I laugh and return his hug warmly, feeling the warmth of his welcoming embrace. “I've been good, just settling in,” I say, pulling back slightly to look at him. “How have you been?”

Larray beams, his energy contagious as always. “Couldn’t be better, you know me, always having a good time,” he says, his usual enthusiasm and positivity shining through. “It’s great to have you here. We need to catch up properly soon.”

I nod, eager to spend more time with him. “Definitely,” I agree. “Catch up soon, I’ve missed you.”

Larray smiles widely, his eyes raking over my dress appreciatively. “You look so good!” he exclaims, his voice full of admiration.

“Ugh, that black dress is everything!” He then turns to Chris, hitting him playfully on the shoulder. “Have you complemented your girl yet?”

Chris chuckles, his eyes flickering towards me before he responds, “What do you mean? She looks good every day.”

I feel a warm blush spread across my cheeks at their exchange, feeling both flattered and amused. Larray lets out a hearty laugh, clearly enjoying himself.

Larray takes Nick to the side, leaving Chris and I momentarily alone. We take a seat on a nearby couch, waiting for them to return. The music and chatter around us continues, but it's as if a bubble forms around us, enclosing us in our own little world.

Tara approaches our group and smiles, asking, “Can we get a picture?” We all nod excitedly, happy to commemorate the moment. Chris then chimes in, inquiring, “Can I get one of those stickers?” He points to the “I love Tara Yummy” sticker that she had in her hand.

Tara hands each of us a sticker, and then takes her place between Nick and me. We all hold up the stickers, a testament to our adoration for Tara. She plops down on the couch, resting her elbows on her knees and her chin on her palms, posing with a sly grin.

We take a few more photos, capturing the moment in an array of smiles and poses. Once they are done, Tara turns to us, her smile radiating gratitude.

“Thank you, guys!” she says, her voice filled with appreciation. Then, she moves on to take pictures with other people in the room, leaving us to chat amongst ourselves.

✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦

The night continues, and Tara returns to the group, joining in on our conversation. Suddenly, a camera approaches, and we all break into dance, letting loose amongst other party-goers. Chris moves his arms swaying gracefully in a back-and-forth motion, his gaze fixed on the camera. He looks absolutely good, exuding confidence and charm with every move.

Everyone takes a break and sits down, but Tara excuses herself to get another drink. Nick follows after her, heading towards the bar. Sitting next to Chris, I try to pull him up to dance with me, tugging on his arm playfully. However, he refuses to budge, playing along and keeping himself firmly seated.

“Come on, Chris,” I say, my voice filled with a mix of persuasion and lighthearted entreaty. “Dance with me.” I continue pulling his arm, my eyes fixed on his face, silently pleading for him to join me.

Chris laughs at my attempt to pull him up, his eyes sparkling with a mischievous gleam. “I’m comfortable where I am,” he replies, his tone playful. He leans back, making himself at home in his seat, enjoying my futile efforts to get him to dance.

With a resigned sigh, I reluctantly let go of his arm, realizing that he’s not budging. I start to dance, swaying to the music, but I do it in a way that is aimed at him, as if I’m trying to tease and tempt him to join me.

I dance, making myself seen, while Chris grins from his spot, his head bobbing slightly to the music in acknowledgment. He clearly has no intention of moving from his seat. He watches me with a glint in his eyes, enjoying the show I’m putting on solely for him.

My moves get a bit bolder, my body moving gracefully as I continue to dance in front of him. I try different spins and twirls, trying to get him to react. However, Chris remains unmoved, only watching me with a small smile on his face, relishing in my efforts to make him dance.

As I dance, a random guy approaches and invites me to dance with him. Seeing this as an opportunity, I decide to go along with it, plotting to make Chris jealous. I dance with the stranger, laughing and enjoying myself, all the while keeping my eyes on Chris to see how he reacts.

The moment I had been waiting for finally unfolds. As I dance with the stranger, feeling his hands touch me lightly, I see Chris’s expression harden. He leans forward, a possessive glint in his eyes, watching me closely.

The stranger’s hands move with me as we dance, his touch making me feel a mix of excitement and anticipation. I keep my gaze fixed on Chris, noticing the way his body tenses up and his jaw clenches. He’s clearly getting jealous.

The dance continues, the stranger’s hands roaming a bit more, but not crossing any lines. I maintain my gaze on Chris, relishing the effect my actions are having on him. His eyes are locked on me, a storm of jealousy and frustration brewing within them.

As the stranger’s hands linger a bit too long on my hips, I can see the anger building in Chris’s eyes. His body is tense, restraining himself from intervening. I know he’s at his limit, about to burst.

Chris had clearly reached his limit. His hand shoots out, grabbing my wrist firmly, his grip unyielding. He swiftly pulls me away from the stranger, his eyes filled with burning possessiveness. Without a word, he tows me through the crowd, his stride purposeful as he leads me towards the bathroom.

I follow behind him, slightly flustered by his sudden actions, struggling to keep up with his determined pace.

He opens the bathroom door and pulls me inside, locking it behind us. In the enclosed space, we’re alone, the noise of the party muffled by the door. He turns to me, his breathing slightly labored, his eyes blazing with a mixture of anger and desire.

Chris leans against the edge of the sink, the cool surface providing a stark contrast to his heated demeanor. His gaze remains fixed on me, his body tense, as if he’s barely holding himself back.

Chris’ voice is low and strained as he speaks, his eyes locked on mine, his words seething with jealousy. “You just don’t know when to stop,” he says, his hands clenching and unclenching at his sides.

“What was all that dancing with that guy?” he continues, his voice laced with frustration. “You’re trying to make me crazy, aren’t you?”

He pushes himself off the sink, his movements sharp and restless. He takes a step closer to me, his presence filling the small space. “You just loved the way he was touching you, didn’t you?”

I take a deep breath, a mixture of guilt and defensiveness swirling inside me. “Chris, c’mon don’t be like that.” My voice is soft yet firm, trying to diffuse the tension.

He lets out a scoff, his eyes darkening with jealousy and irritation. “Don’t be like what? You were trying to make me jealous, weren’t you? And you succeeded.”

I start to speak, my words coming out in a rush. “Chris...” but he cuts me off, his voice filled with possessive determination. “Nobody should be allowed to touch you if it’s not me.” His body is suddenly much closer, his towering form hovering over me, overwhelming in his intensity.

The tension in the bathroom reaches a boiling point. Chris’s eyes are dark, filled with a mix of anger and desire. He closes the remaining distance between us, his body pressing against mine, effectively trapping me against the wall.

His hand comes up to cup my face, his touch possessive and demanding. He leans in close, his breath warm against my skin as he speaks, his voice a low rumble.

“You’re mine. You got that?”

I can feel the heat radiating off him, the hard planes of his body against me. My breath catches in my throat, his words and actions igniting a spark of desire deep within me. I can only nod in reply, my own hands coming up to rest lightly on his chest, feeling the rapid thrum of his heartbeat.

His hand moves from my face, his fingers encircling my neck, the slight pressure a silent command. His voice is a rough growl as he speaks, his eyes locked on mine. “Use your words, ma.” The possessive nickname sending shivers down my spine.

I swallow the lump in my throat, my eyes locked on his, feeling his grip on my neck and his body pinning me against the wall. My voice comes out in a hoarse whisper, my own desire coloring my words.

“I’m yours, Chris. Only yours.”

A smirk tugs at the corner of his lips, the possessiveness in his eyes darkening at my words. He leans in closer, his face inches from mine, his breath hot on my skin.

“Damn right you are,”

He growls, his grip on my neck tightening ever so slightly. The air between us heats up, the tension crackling like electricity. Chris’s body presses even closer, his hips pinning me against the wall, his fingers flexing against my neck.

His words are a low rumble, his voice filled with a mix of possessiveness and desire. “I want you, ma. Right here, right now.”

Heat surges through my body at his words, a wave of desire crashing over me, drowning out any rational thought. Chris’s hand moves from my neck, sliding down to grip my hip, his touch firm and possessive. He crowds even closer, his body molding against mine, a heady mix of need and frustration in his eyes.

“I need you,” he growls, his voice a low rumble. “Now.”

With a low growl, Chris’s lips crush against mine, claiming my mouth in a fiery kiss. It’s a mixture of passion and possession, his tongue demanding entry, his fingers digging into my hip. I melt into the kiss, returning his fervor, my hands clutching at his hoodie, trying to pull him closer.

The kiss deepens, becoming more intense as our bodies press together, the bathroom seemingly shrinking around us. My fingers bunch the fabric of his hoodie, my body arching into him, seeking more contact, more of him. His other hand comes up to cup my jaw, tilting my head back to better plunder my mouth, his tongue exploring me with a possessive fervor.

I kiss him back with a fervor of my own, fueled by the heat and desire coiled tight in my gut. Every touch, every stroke of his tongue, sends a jolt of pleasure through me, and I can't help but press closer, seeking more of his touch, more of him. Our breaths mingle, our bodies fitting together like puzzle pieces, as the kiss deepens to a level of near desperation.

He moves his body against mine, pressing me further into the wall, the kiss growing even more intense as a low moan escapes his throat. I tangle my hands in his hair, pulling him closer still, losing myself in the sensation and the desperate need coursing through me.

Chris’s lips move from my mouth, trailing down my jaw to my neck, his hot breath sending shivers down my spine. He presses open-mouthed kisses along the sensitive skin, his tongue flicking out to taste me. A low, guttural moan escapes him, the sound vibrating against my skin as he continues his assault on my neck. His teeth graze my flesh, nipping and sucking at my skin, leaving behind a trail of fire.

The sensations of his mouth on my neck coupled with the heat of his body against mine is almost too much to bear. A soft, needy moan escapes my lips, the sound filled with pleasure and desire. My fingers tighten in his hair, my hips arching against his, seeking more of the friction as he continues to kiss and suck at my skin.

Chris pulls away for a moment, his lips glistening and eyes dark with desire. His voice is a low, rough timber as he speaks. “Jump,” he commands. Without hesitation, I do as he says, leaping up and trusting that he’ll catch me. True to his word, his arms come around me, effortlessly lifting me up and setting me down on the edge of the sink.

Chris's intense gaze rakes over my curves, his hands roaming across my hips as he steps between my thighs, pinning me to the sink. “You're so responsive,”he growls, voice thick with lust. “It's like you're made for me, molded to fit perfectly in my arms.”

Chris leans in close, his breath hot against my ear as he whispers, “Do you trust me?” I can feel the tension between us, the anticipation building to a fever pitch. With a nod, I place my hands on his shoulders and close my eyes, surrendering myself to him.

With a low growl, Chris wastes no time as he claims my lips in a bruising, passionate kiss. His hands roam over every inch of my body, possessive and dominant as he stakes his claim on me.

Chris's fingers hook into the hem of my black dress, pulling it up to reveal my thighs and the scrap of lace that I wear beneath. In one swift motion, he tears them away, leaving me bared to him in a way that I've never experienced before.

Chris's lips trail a fiery path down the column of my throat, pausing to nibble and suck at the sensitive skin there. His hot breath fans over my pulse point as he continues his descent, eventually kneeling before me. His hands grip my hips, pulling me forward until my thighs straddle his shoulders.

I can feel Chris's warm breath against my most intimate parts, causing a shiver to run down my spine. He looks up at me with those intense pearly blue eyes, his gaze searing into my very soul as he leans forward and presses a tender kiss to my clit. “Oh, god,”

Chris's tongue darts out, licking a slow, deliberate path through my slick folds. A low moan escapes my lips as he explores every inch of me, his hands gripping my thighs to hold me in place. He sucks gently on my clit, sending shockwaves of pleasure through my body.

Chris's eyes flick up to meet mine, dark with lust and adoration. I run my fingers through his hair, tangles the strands around my fist as he continues his ministrations. His breath hitches against my pussy, sending vibrations through my entire being.

Chris complies, his piercing gaze locking onto mine as I tighten my grip in his hair. His tongue circles my clit once more before he takes it between his lips, suckling gently. The dual sensations of his mouth on me and his eyes burning into mine are almost too much to bear.

Chris releases my clit with a pop, his fingers replacing his mouth as he begins to pump them into me. He curls them just right, hitting that sweet spot that makes my vision blur and my moans crescendo. I grind down onto his hand, desperate for more friction, more pleasure.

“You're so fucking tight,” Chris groans, his fingers plunging deeper into my heat. “I can't get enough of you.” He adds a third digit, stretching me further as he fucks into me with relentless abandon.

“Cum for me, Ma,” Chris commands, his voice husky and dripping with dominance. “Squeeze my fingers with your tight little pussy, let me feel you come apart.”

“Chris, oh god, yes!” I cry out, my nails digging into his wrist as he drives his fingers deeper, faster into my throbbing pussy. “Don't stop, please don't stop!”

Chris's fingers curl inside me, hitting that secret spot that makes stars explode behind my eyelids. My hips buck wildly, grinding against his hand as my orgasm crashes over me in waves. “Cum for me, Ma, cum all over my fingers!”

My walls clench around Chris's fingers, pulsing as I ride out the aftershocks of my climax. I collapse back against the bed, panting, his hand still buried deep within me. Chris slowly withdraws his fingers, bringing them to his lips and sucking off my essence. “Delicious,”

I scramble off the counter, my legs still shaky from my orgasm. I spin Chris around and push him back against the counter, his chest heaving. “Your turn now,” I growl, tugging at his belt.

Chris's belt comes undone, clattering to the floor. I slowly unzip his jeans, revealing a hard, throbbing cock. I grip it in my hand, stroking slowly, teasing him with my fingers. “Fuck, Y/N,” he moans.

I look up at Chris, our eyes locking, and he groans at the raw desire in my gaze. I sink to my knees, never breaking eye contact as I guide his cock to my lips. I take him into my mouth, savoring the taste of him on my tongue.

I take him deep, feeling him hit the back of my throat. Chris's hips twitch, his fingers tangling in my hair. “Fuck, Ma...” I bob my head, sucking him harder, swirling my tongue around his shaft.

Chris's breathing becomes ragged as I continue to pleasure him. He lets out a low groan, his grip on my hair tightening. “I'm gonna fucking cum if you don't stop, Ma...” I ignore his warning, sucking harder, ready for him to release everything he has.

Chris's cock pulses in my mouth as he comes hard, spilling his hot seed down my throat. I swallow every drop, milking him for all he's worth. He collapses against the counter, panting heavily, while I sit back on my heels, a satisfied smile on my face.

Chris pulls me up to the counter, my legs wrapping around his waist. He positions himself at my entrance, gazing into my eyes, full of raw desire. He thrusts in slowly, stretching me to my limits. “Shit” he groans, his head falling to my shoulder.

My breath hitches as I take in his size. He is definitely bigger than any other man I have ever been with. Each movement he makes sends a shockwave of pleasure through my body. I wrap my legs tighter around him, wanting to take him in deeper. “Fuck, Chris...”

Chris starts moving faster, his hips slapping against mine. “You feel so fucking tight, Ma,” he growls, his voice low and husky. I moan, my nails digging into his biceps as he pounds into me. The counter creaks beneath us, the sound echoing through the bathroom.

Chris pistons in and out of me, each thrust sending jolts of electricity through my body. “You like that, Baby? You like my big dick in your tight little cunt?” he grunts, his dirty talk only heightening my arousal.

Chris's thrusts become more erratic as he nears his climax. “Gonna fill you up, Ma,” he pants, his eyes dark with lust. “Gonna pump you so full of cum, you'll be dripping for days.” I whimper at his words, feeling the pressure building inside me.

“Yes, yes! Harder, Chris!” I moan, my voice barely above a whisper. Chris complies, his thrusts becoming faster and more intense. The room is filled with the sound of our panting breaths and the slapping of skin on skin.

Without hesitation, Chris pulls out and takes hold of my hips, spinning me around and bending me over the bathroom counter. He enters me again from behind, his thrusts becoming more forceful as he grips my hips tightly. I look at him through the mirror, his eyes dark and full of desire.

Chris pounds into me relentlessly, his pace unrelenting. “Oh, shit” he grunts, his voice strained with pleasure. “Do you love it when my cock is splitting you open?” I moan, my hands braced against the counter as he takes me harder.

Chris reaches for his phone, quickly starting the video recording. Chris's movements become more urgent as he records our intimate moment through the mirror. He leans down, his hot breath on my neck as he whispers dirty promises. “You're such a dirty slut. Getting fucked so hard in the bathroom, all for my eyes only.”

The sound of our wet bodies slapping together fills the room as Chris continues to take me from behind. “You like me fucking you like this, Ma?” He taunts as he films us in the mirror. “Like being my little cumslut?”

Chris grips my hair tightly in his hand, pulling my head back so I'm forced to look at him in the mirror. “Look at me while I fuck you, slut.” He growls, his thrusts becoming even rougher as he continues to record us.

Chris's hand tightens in my hair, yanking my head back further as he speaks into my ear. “You love it when other guys touch your body, don't you? Love feeling their hands all over you, making you feel good.” He thrusts harder, hitting a particularly sensitive spot inside me.

“Only I can make you feel this good, baby.” Chris growls. “Only I can fuck you this hard, make your pretty little pussy sore for days.” He's relentless in his dirty talk, driving me wild as he continues to take me from behind.

“God, you look so fucking hot like this, Ma.” Chris pants as he continues to fuck me, the wet sound of our bodies slapping together echoing in the bathroom. “You're mine, all mine, and I'm going to prove it every single day.”

As Chris's thrusts become more forceful, I see stars behind my eyes. My moans escalate into high-pitched whimpers of pleasure. “Oh god, oh god, oh god!” I chant, my body trembling as he hits that spot inside me again and again.

I can barely form coherent sentences as wave after wave of pleasure crashes over me. “Y-yes, yes, yes!” I gasp, my eyes rolling back as Chris continues to ravage my body. “You-you're making me…I'm going to…!”

I don't get a chance to finish my thought before Chris's fingers find my clit, rubbing in slow circles as he continues to fuck me. That's all it takes for me to shatter into a million pieces, stars bursting behind my eyelids as I scream his name.

“CHRIS!” I collapse against the sink, gasping for air as the aftershocks of my orgasm wrack my body. Chris's hot breath is against my neck, his fingers still pressed against my sensitive clit. “Look at you,” he whispers, “completely undone for me.”

Chris pulls out, his cum splattering across my ass and thighs as he comes. He steps back, a cocky grin spreading across his face as he looks at the video on his phone. “That's a wrap, Ma. You were perfect.”

Chris gently cleans me up toilet paper, his eyes softening as he looks at me. He holds me close, kissing me deeply. “You okay, Ma? I didn't hurt you, did I?” he murmurs, concern etched onto every line of his face.

I smile and nod, wrapping my arms around his neck. “No, I'm okay,” I reassure him. “That was amazing and you were amazing and now my legs are jelly but other than that I'm good.” I kiss him again before pulling away and smirking

“Didn't know you were that big though,” I say, giving him a teasing look. Chris raises an eyebrow, a smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth. “You didn't think I had it in me, hm?”

I chuckle, shaking my head as I lean into Chris. “I mean, I knew you were hung, but damn. That was a surprise.” I nuzzle his neck, enjoying the closeness after our intense encounter. “You really know how to make a girl feel full.”

Chris laughs, his chest rumbling beneath my ear. “What, so you thought about my dick size before, huh?” he says, a smug note of satisfaction in her voice. I pull away from him and raise an eyebrow, a sly smile playing at the corner of my lips.

“I mean, all those times you caught me staring while I was sitting on your bed right after you got out of the shower was for nothing, right?” I tease, giving him a playful wink. Chris's eyes widen in mock shock before he throws his head back and laughs.

Chris leans in and captures my lips in a slow, savoring kiss. I melt against him, my hands trailing over his chest while he deepens the kiss.

He pulls back from the kiss, his thumb brushing over my lower lip in a gentle caress. His eyes are dark with desire, but there's a satisfied gleam there as well, like a lion who just had his fill of prey. “We should head back to the party,” he says, his voice a low rumble. “Nick's probably lookin' for us.”

I nod mutely, still trying to catch my breath and compose myself after that kiss. Chris steps back, a smirk playing on his lips as he takes in the sight of me, flushed and disheveled. He offers his hand to me, a silent invitation to follow him back out to the party.

We exit the bathroom, the hum of the party music hitting us like a wave of noise after the quiet seclusion of the bathroom. Chris keeps my hand in his as we make our way through the crowd, back towards where we were sitting. When we reach the group, we find Nick and Tara having a conversation, both looking up at our return.

Nick grins at us, his eyes flickering between Chris's grasp on my hand and my flushed appearance. “There you are,” he says . “We were starting to think you two had vanished into thin air.”

Chris raises his voice above the music, a casual tone to his words. “Yeah, we were just grabbing some drinks and then Y/N needed some air, so we stepped outside for a bit.” He flashes a charming smile, his hand still casually holding mine, like it's the most natural thing in the world.

Nick nods, buying the lie, and continues his conversation with Tara, seemingly not giving it a second thought. Chris gives my hand a slight squeeze, a subtle reassurance that our secret is still safe.

I glance around to make sure nobody is looking, then discreetly take my phone out of my purse, hiding it from Chris's view. I quickly send a text to Tara:

“Yeah, I think I might have to reconsider my answer to that question you asked earlier…”

Authors note: this took forever!! but thank you for 200 followers!! this story wouldn’t have been possible without @st6rify’s brain!! she thought of it and i made it become reality!

hope you all enjoyed it thank you once again! super grateful for each one of you! i love you and you’re appreciated!!

© CYBERL6VE

𝐓𝐀𝐆𝐒 (⭑.ᐟ) — @st6rify @lovekaiya @b2cute



[lowkeyerror]

The Family Business Ch.12

WandaNat x Reader

Word count: 2.7k

Ch. Notes: It's a converstion so dialouge heavy, non-sexual nudity

Summary: Natasha and Wanda reveal their feelings.

An: Ok... ok late again, but tell me it's not worth the wait. (Please don't) Hopefully you love it because it's 2:25am but I'm still doing this for yall and yes if everything goes right new ch. on Monday

Series Masterlist | Masterlist

Wanda couldn’t look at you when she was speaking. You could see she was trying to find the words, but you didn’t know how to help her.

Natasha knowing what her wife is trying to say tries to take over.

“ Before I met you I was a little jealous. Seeing the love of my life light up talking about someone who was quite literally thousands of miles away, was a hard pill to swallow. I haven’t known you as long as Wanda, but I can see now why she had always spoken so highly of you.”

You want to interrupt the red head and say anything back to her, but you don’t. They had said they wanted to tell you everything before you spoke so you intended to let them.

“When Papa sent me away, I resented him for it. It was a great opportunity and a show of good faith, but I was angry with him because I didn’t want to leave you here. I thought we had grown quite close, little krolik. You were the best part of all my days. So much so that even thousands of miles away I couldn’t shut up about you. Even after I fell in love, you’d always find a way into my mind,” Wanda plays with her wedding ring as she speaks.

You look between the two woman silently urging them to continue.

“I’ve been many places, lived many lives, and have met many people, but I've never met anyone like you. There’s this light inside you that you keep so close to your chest. I can feel it behind all the walls you put up. I see it in how intensely you care about your family and I admire it. I admire you,” Natasha isn’t scared to take your hand in hers.

Wanda continues, “It’s hard not to admire you. If Natasha has seen it in these few months, it’s safe to say I’ve always seen it. I saw it before you put all these walls up, when you let it be known to everyone. I think that’s what startled me so much when I came home. I felt like a soldier come home from war to see his home was no longer his.”

The woman begins to get emotional. You reach out your other hand for her to take, not knowing what else to do.

“When I saw Wanda interact with you for the first time, I felt something. It wasn’t jealousy or hatred or anything like that. It was this overwhelming warmth. Seeing her hold you as if you’d disappear, seeing her smile as big as our wedding day, it made me happy,” Natasha recounts.

Wanda sighs, “When we were in my old room at the dinner I was terrified. I thought you were going to tell me the same thing everyone else had when it came to you, but you didn’t. You held me, dried my tears, and I think things really started to fall into place for me then.”

“I met Wanda when she was technically on a job. She was leading and in charge of operations. I had seen her get angry or upset on multiple occasions, but I don’t know if I ever saw her as mad as that night. I could almost see the steam coming out of her ears when she had Pietro against the wall. As far as I knew, I was the only one who could calm her down, but then you did it like it was second nature.”

You speak quietly, “She’s always had a temper.”

You think the woman will roll her eyes, but she doesn’t, “I have and you have always been there to calm me down. I don’t know how to say this, Y/n. When I met you, you were just my little brother’s best friend, but then you became my friend and then a part of my family. You were so delicate back then, you weren’t even 18 for Christ sake.”

Natasha tries to help her wife find her bearings, “But by the time she left you were 22 and you had grown into a young woman.”

Wanda shakes her head a bit, “You had done a lot of growing, that I didn't want to see, that I was trying to ignore because I didn’t want you to think that I had intentions of taking advantage of you. I felt like at the time I was too old, you were too young, and we were too close.”

You look at her with confusion on your face. There’s only one thing that she could be talking about in your mind, but this can’t be happening.

“What are you saying Wanda?”

For the first time in the conversation her eyes meet yours. You see the fear in them, the uncertainty, the desperation. Her hand let’s go of yours and finds itself on her bouncing knee.

“I don't want to ruin this and I'm so scared of losing you, but if you would’ve died in that alley not knowing that I’m in love with you it would’ve destroyed me.”

You feel your heart beating against your chest. Your mouth opens and closes a few times as you try to find your voice. You find yourself stuttering for the first time in years, “Y-you w-what?”

Wanda stands abruptly trying to run from the conversation. This makes you panic and try to stand as well. However, you forget about your ankle and yelp at the weight you put on it.

Wanda’s arms are quick to steady you before you do anymore damage to yourself. She’s close to you and you swear you can hear her heartbeat.

“D-did you s-ay-” you give up frustrated with your reappearing stutter.

Wanda’s grip on you tightens slightly, “I’m in love with you.”

“Wanda I- you’re married,” you look back at Natasha only to find her staring at you.

She stands from her place on the couch, and closes the gap between the two of you.

“I have my own feelings for you Y/n,” Natasha is confident as she speaks.

Her assertion makes you turn red, “Y-you also?”

Natasha smiles sweetly, “Maybe not love just yet, but I could see myself falling for you.”

This situation was short-circuiting your brain, it felt like you were dreaming. This couldn’t be real. As you stood between the two woman it felt like less of a dream.

“I loved you before they sent you away,” you blurt out to your friend’s sister.

Once you start it’s like the words just pour out of your mouth, “You were way out of my league. You’re still out of my league, I mean does it get more taboo than falling for your best friend’s older sister. You’re just so easy to love, but I never thought I had a chance and then you came back with a wife; a very beautiful, very intelligent, ex-Russian spy of a wife, and I just knew I didn’t have a chance.”

“The chance is now. Admittedly, we don’t know how something like this works, but I think we can figure it out together,” Wanda levels with you.

“If you're interested,” Natasha adds on, leaving the ball in your court.

“It would’ve been nice if you guys had told me before I got a cut on my lip. I could’ve done the whole dramatic kiss to cut you off,” you tease them.

Wanda rolls her eyes, “If I could shove you and you wouldn’t fall over, I would.”

“You talk to every woman you’re in love with like that?”

Natasha chimes in, “You get used to it after awhile.”

You share a laugh and when it dies down Wanda speaks, “So we’re doing this?”

“I want to try, but I don’t want to ruin your marriage,” you speak honestly.

“You won’t,” Natasha declares with certainty.

“How do you know?”

She thinks for a moment, “The love Wanda and I have for each other is endless, I’ve never for a moment thought anything could break it up. We’re not changing the way we love each other, we’re just adding you into the already existing dynamic. Eventually it should end with the three of us loving each other endlessly. Does that make sense?”

You nod slowly, “It sounds perfect.”

Natasha places a kiss on your cheek like it’s second nature to her, “Good.”

Your ears heat at the contact and before you can respond Wanda places a light kiss at the corner of your lips.

The movement leaves you wanting more. Against better judgement you try to lean down and kiss her. You succeed in placing your lips against hers for a brief second but as you pull away you almost fall again.

Natasha is the one to steady you this time. She teases you, “Someone is eager?”

“My ankle doesn’t want me to be great.” you pout.

Natasha hesitates, but delicately she touches her lips to yours. It’s as quick as your attempt at kissing Wanda.

“Your ankle won’t stop us, bunny,” Wanda looks at you with shining eyes.

Your face heats at the nickname that’s only familiar to you in the woman’s native language. The women chuckle at the pigment of your skin.

“We’ll see who’s laughing when my lips don’t hurt and I can kiss you properly,” you try once again standing on your own.

“I’m looking forward to it,” Wanda lets her eyes fall to your lips.

You roll your eyes, “Stop teasing, and help me get ready for bed. This has simultaneously been one of the best and one of the most painful days of my life. Truly unforgettable.”

Natasha speaks first, “I’ll get some stuff ready for a shower.”

“I’ll help you to the bathroom,” Wanda finishes.

It’s an all too similar feeling as you find yourself perched on the bathroom counter with Wanda standing between your legs.

Her fingers play with the end of your shirt. She looks at you for permission and you give her a light nod.

Slowly as to not aggravate your injuries she takes your shirt off. She’s careful as she unwraps the bandages from your torso.

“You’ll need help in there,” she speaks softly as her eyes scan your body.

“I know,” the pain starts to catch up with you.

Leaning forward slightly you rest your head on her shoulder. She smells good and it calms your nerves.

Wanda can’t help herself as she speaks up, “Isn’t this a familiar scene?”

You raise your head off of her shoulder and smile, “It’s ringing a few bells.”

Natasha enters the restroom with some towels and pajamas, “I’m going to get some food going, if you guys are alright in here?”

Wanda nods, “I’ve got her, Nat.”

Natasha nods and proceeds to exit the bathroom, “Just holler if you need me.”

Wanda steps away from you to turn the shower on. She’s back in front of you in no time.

“How do you want to do this?”

You feel nerves as you speak, but you try to sound objective, “I think you should join me. Not because I want to see you, not that I don’t want to see you. Its just I can’t really stand and-”

She quiets you down by pulling her own shirt over her head. Her feet pad against the bathroom floor as she makes her way back over to you. Wanda’s hands place themselves on the top of your pants. Her movements are slow but sure as she begins to pull them down. She takes extra care when they're around your ankle.

Once they’re off she takes a step back swiftly removing her own pants. The only thing left on both of you is your underwear.

The sound of the shower rings heavily in your ears as you watch Wanda take her bra off. You can’t move even if you want to. Your eyes glance over her chest before following her hands path lower. She’s not teasing as she removes her panties.

Once again you find yourself with her standing between your legs, but this time there was significantly less fabric in the way. She reaches behind you back to place her hands on your bra clasp.

“Y/n, do you mind if-"

“Take it off,” you finish for her.

She does as you say, a shaky breath releases from her. Your bra falls off your shoulder, but you keep looking in her eyes. Her hand slides down from your back and her finger hooks around your underwear.

“Take it off,” you repeat in a hushed tone.

She follows your instructions. Her eyes snap back to yours. The two of you stare in silence. There’s an underlying tenderness to the moment.

Wanda’s hand reach for your waist, “Ready?”

You nod and she assists you off of the counter. The water hits your skin and you sigh. You enjoy the heat against your bruised skin. Wanda’s hands stay in place for a moment just keeping you steady.

It's a silent delicacy as Wanda soaps up a towel and begins to gently clean your skin. You marvel at the lightness of her touch.

She turns you around so you face her. You look down at her and can’t help but brush your nose against hers. You hear her breath hitch. Carefully you use your hand to guide her’s across your body.

Neither of you dwell as she cleans every inch of you intimately. You lean against the shower wall a bit so Wanda has room to wash herself. You take in the details of her body as she cleans herself.

She gets out first and then helps you put the pajamas laid out for you on before dressing herself.

“I love you,” you say it easily when everything is done.

Wanda places a kiss on your forehead, “I love you too.”

Wanda helps you to the kitchen table. Your eyes find Natasha moving about in the kitchen.

“Almost done, I know you’re tired lisichka. We can eat then get in the bed,” Natasha speaks to you.

“Thanks Natty,” you look at her with your hand on your chin.

“Did you re-wrap her torso detka?” Natasha asks her wife.

Wanda snaps her fingers, “I knew I forgot something.”

“Take over here, and I’ll do it?”

Wanda agrees to these terms. Natasha goes to fetch the medical wrap and quickly returns. You’re sitting down, so Natasha kneels to be level with your torso.

Carefully with tentative hands, she lifts up your shirt. Her hand finds the small of your back, to encourage you to sit straight. You follow her instructions.

“Tell me if it’s too tight, okay?”

You’re looking down into her eyes and you momentarily get lost in them. The hues of green draw you in like emeralds.

“Baby,” she says again a little more firm.

You snap out of it and nod, “I’ll tell you if it’s too tight.”

She brings the wrap around your torso multiple times, each time looking for any extensive discomfort in your expression.

When she’s done with your torso, she quickly does your ankle. Your ankle was more sensitive, so she made sure to be extra gentle.

“All set, lisichka,” the woman places a kiss on your forehead as she stands up.

“Food is ready,” Wanda announces bringing plates for the three of you to table.

At this point exhaustion was knocking at your door. You eat in comfortable silence and once you’re finished, they help you to bed.

When your head hits the pillow, you almost fall asleep instantly.

“If I didn’t want to kill him for what he did to my father, I’d kill him for this,” Wanda says to her wife.

“The men involved have been dealt with already,” Natasha relies to her Wanda.

“You work fast malyshka,” Wanda places her hands on Natasha’s hips.

Natasha looks at your sleeping figure, “I’d move at the speed of light for either of you.”

Natasha ends her statement by kissing Wanda.

“I love you,” Wanda pulls the woman closer to her.

Natasha smiles pecking the woman’s lips once more, “I love you too.”

The two of them climb into the bed, making sure to give you adequate space due to your injuries.

“Why does this already feel so natural?” Wanda questions.

Natasha answers instantly, “It’s just meant to be like this. This feels like the final piece to our little puzzle."

Wanda was more than content with that answer, closing her eyes, unable to fight rest.

Somewhat like before, but entirely different at the same time, the three women lay together.

Taglist: @natashaswife4125 @autorasexy @alexawynters @blkmxrvel @toouncreativeforausername @likemick @sgm616 @bstvst @dorabledewdroop @sapphic-simp4015 @natty-taffy @justarandomreaderxoxo @mmmmokdok @tarathia @bgwlsmahf25 @lezzylover @og-kxsh-420 @vanessashands @untoldreader @sxlfishbrokenheart @marvelgirlx @elle161989

[lazycats-stuff]

I wanted to know if you could make another request for the Bat Brother that was created to be a weapon when the Black Canary said he was ready to go to school, Bruce put him in one, but a boy tried to intimidate him and the Bat Brother broke his arm. He still couldn't understand what he did wrong because of his training.

I sure can. I love that idea. Also, this gif is Bruce explaining to the Bat Bro, that no, you can't go break people's arms.

Summary: (Y/N) doesn't understand that intimidation doesn't require broken bones.

Warnings: Bruce is a tired dad, (Y/N) is a weapon, but nothing specific about training, mentions of attacking, but nothing specific

Bruce sighed as he got a call from the Justice League. Another child that was created to be a weapon. Why? And why is he the first person they call? Damian was with him, since he was on patrol with him since they got the call.

" Father, why are we here? " Damian asked as the two used the Zeta tubes. Bruce sighed yet again.

" Because they think I'm an expert when it comes to children who are murderous. Just because I made sure you are tame I presume, " Bruce replied and Damian scoffed and rolled his eyes.

" Oh please. I'm not murderous. "

" Should I start talking about shrubbery? My beloved animal statues are still recovering. You started at what, 5 am? I did eradicate that habit of yours, didn't I? "

Damian huffed again, crossing his arms.

And yes, if you somewhat managed to tame Damian, a child murderous as him if you don't have Damian, you are officially an expert. That's why everyone turns to him when there is a murderous child. Bruce should start teaching them how to deal with such children.

" Superman. " Bruce nodded in his direction and Superman nodded back.

" Evening you two. We've managed to get the boy's name. His name is (Y/N), last name still unknown. We found him in one of Lex's labs. Under some nth alias. " Superman crossed his arms and Bruce scoffed.

Of course. When in doubt who else could be creating clones? Lex Luthor.

" Why isn't he thrown in prison when there is overwhelming amount of evidence against him? " Damian questioned and Bruce more often than not wondered the exact same thing.

The answer?

" Connections Damian, connections. " Bruce rubbed his chin and Damian scoffed, muttering an of course underneath his breath.

" But don't worry. He'll fall down eventually. If my hunch is right, he is probably messing with taxes. And if there's one thing that America doesn't like, is when you mess with taxes. That's how they took down Al Capone, " Bruce said to Damian, who nodded.

" We'll be waiting for a while then. " Damian crossed his arms now and Bruce chuckled.

" Don't worry Damian. IRS will take care of him. And once he's down, we'll strike as well and put him away for life. Don't worry about it. And how is (Y/N) doing? " Bruce asked, turning back to look at Clark.

" He's... Well, he had to be sedated. He broke Flash's nose. And we checked on him via cameras and he seems... Calm, but I've known you long enough to know that he is simmering deep down inside. " Clark chuckled and Bruce smirked.

" So you called me because the boy is mini me? " Bruce mused and Clark chuckled, shaking his head in amusement.

" Yup. I wouldn't recommend meeting him now though. He is pissed off. Black Canary will come by in the afternoon so she can talk to him. I know that she can take care of herself, but you should be here, just in case. " Clark scratched the back of his head, yawning.

" Tired already Superman? " Bruce teased and Clark chuckled.

" I'm going back to the cave father. Should I tell the others about (Y/N)? "

" Please do Damian. Warn them about the new addition that is going to come. I'll be back in about 20 minutes. Tell the others to sleep as well, " Bruce told Damian and the Robin nodded, disappearing through the Zeta tubes.

Bruce turned back to Clark, who offered him a tablet with the information that Bruce was interesting in. They both knew each other so well.

" Everything here is an estimate, besides the physical appearance. The age and all that stuff, " Clark explained and Bruce nodded as he read over everything. " He's a mini you Bruce, " Clark added and Bruce rolled his eyes underneath the mask.

" Alright. I'll transfer these to the Batcave and just text me the time when Black Canary is coming so I can ditch work. I'm pretty sure I can ditch a boring meeting. " Bruce smirked to himself as he started the transfer.

" Ah yes, the infinite meetings of a CEO. " Clark chuckled and Bruce handed him the tablet back.

" The boy will be fine, I'm sure of it. With some therapy and stability, he'll be good, " Bruce said and Clark nodded.

" I can only hope so. "

Months went by since that last conversation. (Y/N) was aggressive at first and outright refused to talk to Black Canary, who had Bruce behind her, just in case. And yes, Bruce had to restrain (Y/N) to make sure that he didn't hurt himself or Black Canary when he has decided to attack.

And attacks were frequent at first. More often than not, Bruce had to restrain him just so that they could get through a single session. And slowly but surely, therapy has started to work. (Y/N) was slowly but surely starting to opening up and became less and less hostile. Of course, there was a long way to go still, but he was making decent progress.

Bruce brought his boys to socialize with (Y/N). The boys are all trained and if (Y/N) does get hostile, they can take care of themselves. Bruce has warned them about it, so they were all prepared.

And (Y/N) seemed to appreciate the gesture, although distrusting of them at first. So, the boys have decided to take a different approach. Dick has decided to bring some books to (Y/N), some of his own favorites, so that he wouldn't be left to his own devices, aka, his mind and be pissed.

So Dick brought a lot of books. (Y/N) liked them all and Dick was proud to say that he had a great taste in books.

Jason has simply decided to talk to (Y/N) about stupid things he could think of. (Y/N) had a lot of questions for him and Jason was more than happy to answer them. He found (Y/N) nice, but too similar to Damian when he first joined.

So Damian and (Y/N) bonded quickly over their experiences. Damian opened up about his own experiences, sharing techniques on how to remain calm in certain situations. Offered meditation techniques as well and gave him advice on how to accept certain things.

And Tim brought him a tablet where he could watch cartoons, movies, whatever he wanted to get familiar with the world outside of fighting. Essentially, it felt like they were socializing a little puppy. (Y/N) really liked the tablet and took great care of it.

Black Canary also like the approach that the boys were taking and (Y/N) has been even less hostile in their sessions and has actually started to open up to Black Canary. Bruce was also a constant in their sessions, and while he may have looked like a brooding figure, he actually helped (Y/N) be calm.

Soon enough, (Y/N) went to school since Black Canary deemed him ready enough. Was Bruce nervous beyond belief for the first time in a long time? Yes. Damian might have been raised to be a weapon in some sort of capacity, but he was raised as an assassin and assassins are to supposed to blend in. And be somewhat sociable.

(Y/N) was not really raised to fit in. He was raised to be a weapon. Not to fit in. Only to kill. So was Bruce nervous beyond belief during the first week. He has hoped he wouldn't get called in to the principal's office.

But hope doesn't last forever.

Bruce was in Wayne Enterprises, in his office, doing some paperwork when the phone rang and Bruce recognized the number. It was the principal of the school. Bruce knows that number since he used to get a lot of calls from the same man while Jason was still going there.

It's burned into his memory.

He had a feeling it was about (Y/N) and was proven right. He muttered a simple ' I'm coming.' Bruce pinched the bridge of his nose and took a deep breath. This was going to be one rather uncomfortable conversation.

(Y/N) got suspended for 2 weeks. Bruce was not happy in the slightest. (Y/N) broke the poor boy's arm just because the boy decided to intimidate him. Was intimidating (Y/N) fair? No. But was breaking someone's arm just because of that justified?

Absolutely not.

Bruce sat (Y/N) down in the kitchen, thinking that the others wouldn't be home. Oh he was very wrong. They boys were back earlier since they had heard what happened. How? Bruce can't exactly know, but he knows that he has trained those boys. So somehow, they all found out and were ready to listen in.

" (Y/N)... We've talked about what to do when someone is intimidating you. You can't put your hands on them. " Bruce put his hands on his hips and (Y/N) crossed his arms.

The four boys were enjoying this. Jason snickered to himself and Damian smirked.

" I mean, (Y/N) isn't technically in the wrong. Why was the kid intimidating him in the first place? " Jason muttered to himself and Damian nodded, agreeing with Jason.

" It was a form of self defense. "

Tim shook his head and Dick chuckled to himself.

" No, self defense would mean that he put his hands on you first. But he didn't. You did. Which is assault. Thank God that by paying the medical bills would keep them off our back. " Bruce now crossed his arms, trying to be calm and patient. " I know it's not easy to live a normal life when you weren't raised like that, but you have to adapt. Black Canary and myself have taught you that. Where is the disconnect? " Bruce inquired.

" Well, he threatened me. Soon enough, he would turn into a real threat, " (Y/N) defended himself and Bruce swore that (Y/N) was like an another version of Damian.

" It doesn't matter. It's not self defense. I've texted Black Canary and you are going to have your sessions double during these 2 weeks, " Bruce declared and (Y/N) scoffed, showing some sort of sass.

Bruce wanted to rip his hair out.

" Go to your room and reflect on what I told you. I'll call you down when dinner is done, " Bruce sighed, rubbing his forehead. (Y/N) clenched his jaw as he walked upstairs.

Damian and Jason were smirking, knowing exactly how he felt. Tim and Dick sighed to themselves. They knew that (Y/N) felt frustrated and angry. They had another version of Damian on their hands. Maybe an even more difficult version.

[meggahamicide]

Okay, i've decided that i'm just gonna drop/dump some lore on Vermin, so if you're interested, read below! It's really long!

...o.0.O.0.o...

Personality:

Like canon-Leo's head-cannons, Vermin hides his true emotions behind a smile, but their differences are in the execution. Vermin's smiles are more wicked, more cruel, and he find amusement in making people fear him, having experience in getting people to listen to him by intimidating them.

He pretends to be indifferent to how the brothers act around him, but always keeps an eye out for any signs that they aren't as they say they are. Donnie specifically.

Big emotions are a no-no, so he hides them behind a passive face, empty of anything he's feeling so he can convince those he's talking with that he feels nothing, that he is unaffected by any stressors and anxiety. If anything get's too overwhelming, he retreats to a hidden corner to wait it out and tries not to remember how Draxum treated him when he let his emotions get the better of him.

Because he was raise without certain privileges, he gets extremely giddy around new experiences, such as sampling new foods and trying out video games and skateboarding. It's probably the only time he lets his guard down because he's so entranced by whatever is happening he forgets that he's not supposed to be showing emotion.

...o.0.O.0.o...

Relationships:

Raphael:

With Raph, Vermin just doesn't know how to deal with him. An injury brings Vermin to the lair and Raph is the one who heals him, but Vermin in uncertain whether or not he can trust someone with such obvious strength he can easily use to harm Vermin. He doesn't understand why Raph is so kind nervous when he could dominate his enemies.

Michelangelo:

Mikey is the one Vermin accepts the easiest other than April. Mikey has a way to handle Vermin without being too invasive and without threatening the slider in any way shape or form and eventually shows Vermin that there is kindness that is not expected to be repaid. He also helps Vermin lean into his chaotic mindset without it becoming harmful to others, like teaching him how to prank the other brothers.

And of course, Vermin loves trying his food, so Mikey basically tempts the slider like he might a feral cat.

Donatello:

Donnie is the one Vermin has the hardest time accepting. He's convinced he can easily beat the soft-shell in a fight, but once he discovers that Donnie is a scientist, he becomes wary of him, skittish and uncomfortable whenever he's around. He knows that there are other ways to get someone to obey than simply fighting.

It takes Donnie being patient and showing him that he means no harm over time that earns his trust. The softshell just has to break through the notion that all scientist are evil and only seek to destroy that which is closest to them. Donnie even goes as far as to promise to never let anything happen to Vermin ever again.

April O'Neil:

The first one to show kindness when Vermin leaves Draxum's lab. She shows the slider a side of society that he was being deprived of when he was with Draxum, helping him see that there is a place for everyone, that things don't need to hurt to be beneficial. She pretty much forcefully adopts him as her little brother and is even protective of him when he interacts with her other brothers.

Baron Draxum:

Was raised by Draxum. More info in the timeline.

...o.0.O.0.o...

Timeline:

Content Warnings: blood and injury, references to child abuse, loss of limb, needles, non-consensual drug use (kind of), non-consensual experimentation and surgery.

It gets dark, so be cautious of the warnings!

Age 0-4:

In the beginning, Lou Jitsu, later known as Splinter, only rescues three of the turtles, who eventually go by the name Donatello, Raphael, and Michelangelo. The remaining turtle, identified by his red markings, is picked up by Baron Draxum before the lab explodes, destroying his life work. The only remaining bit of his research is the tiny creature small enough in the palm of his hand.

Quick to find a place to stay and recover, the Baron begins working to piece together his research using his subject. He starts a book, scribbling down anything worth noting and refraining from any larger tests besides bloodwork and skin-scraping until the subject is larger, better able to withstand any more intrusive tests.

He begins raising the creature, claiming it as his own.

Age 5-8:

Called by the title Red, the slider reaches acceptable cognizance to begin training by the age of five. He is small, just below the Baron's knee, but he is intelligent enough to understand complex problem solving and language. Weapons training is less successful than desired, but that could be related to the subject's weaker limbs and child-like nature.

Baron Draxum is relentless in his education, always prepared to deliver swift punishment should Red be unable to comply with his desires. Red hates the punishment, often times covered in bruises from the extra training or with a headache from spending his nights in 'The Room,' but he is just as stubborn as his guardian, if not more so. He always seeks to make his boss proud, ignoring the voice that always tells him he's not strong enough, not good enough. Baron Draxum always has a reason for saying things like that, so Red knows he just has to try harder.

He's not exactly sure what a human is, but the Baron is convinced that he needs to kill them all.

Every other week, the Baron brings Red to another room where he 'collects samples.' Red doesn't know what they're for, but he's seen the elder gather some of his freshly peeled chutes and teeth when they fall off, always writing in that journal with a little turtle drawn on the front.

One night, when he's just turned eight, Baron Draxum leaves in a hurry. He's gone for hours, leaving Red to his own devices and wondering if maybe the yokai had finally got bored of him, wondering if he just left him behind because he couldn't satisfy him. Red tries not to listen to the little voice in his head that says maybe that's a good thing, maybe it's better if he stays gone.

Red doesn't see him until the next day, well into the night, and suddenly, he regrets ever thinking those nasty things of his guardian. The yokai is hunched by the door, missing an arm and looking very tired. Red runs to him, but the Baron doesn't even acknowledge him, holding a towel to his stump.

Red is crying. He knows he shouldn't, knows that tears mean weakness, but he's afraid for his boss, afraid of what is happening, because that's a lot of blood. He feels something well up in his chest as he sits next to his guardian, the feeling swelling into his lungs and arms, weaving through his bones and into his fingers, bright, blue light zapping over his fingers. Something guides his hand, pressing them against the yokai's injury and forcing the light into him.

He heals Baron Draxum.

Baron Draxum looks at him like he's solved the world's problems.

Age 9-10:

Test after test after test. Red is sure he's never been through so many tests, but he finally sees the Baron's pride and he wants to impress him, so he doesn't complain when the needle digs too far, or when the scalpel scrapes a little to much skin. This new power is good, that's all he knows. Baron Draxum calls it mystic energy, says that it was a power he was seeking all along, so Red doesn't complain when all of the test make him tired enough to pass out, or make him cry himself to sleep because his chest aches from how long he had to work. Baron Draxum is proud, proud enough to give him a portal sword and teach him how to use it, proud enough to hand him a pair of tonfa and guide him through the motions of building a shield, proud enough to smile when Red uses the kusari-fundo for the first time.

Red trains his new skill until he's sick, until he can't stand, until he can't feel the first time Baron Draxum uses that strange, green liquid on him.

Baron Draxum was proud.

Age 11-13:

Red is pretty sure his name isn't Red any more. It's Vermin. At least, that's what the Baron has started to call him.

Ever since he stopped being able to use mystic energy without fainting, Baron Draxum has stopped using that old name. Now he was a pest, a creature incapable of healing, or portaling, or simply making things float. He is weak.

Baron did something while he was sedated; took apart his plastron and looked around inside. Vermin thinks he was looking for what was so wrong with him, why everything the slider does ends up in failure. He now has a shiny new plate of metal on his chest and a paranoia of falling asleep.

He lost count the amount of times he was put to sleep, but every time he woke to something different, and injection of mutagen transforming his body while he was so out of it he couldn't even open his eyes. His toes and fingers become more flexible, grow sharp talons attributed to some sort of owl. His tongue becomes forked, able to scent things by merely breathing. His hearing and eyesight become sharper, a fox's DNA granting him night vision. He becomes stronger, faster, more agile, but it's never enough.

Vermin's starting to think that it never was going to be enough.

Vermin is awake when Baran Draxum puts in the ports, ignoring how painful it is and preferring to strap Vermin to a table while he digs into the slider's neck and arms, leaving six, shiny new devices embedded in his skin. The Baron has Vermin carry around a canister of green liquid on his back, a 'empyrean variant' he said, and with a click of a button, the canister sprouts tubes that dig into his ports, releasing the substance into his bloodstream. It hurts, floods his system with fire, but Vermin was used to pain. Now he just has a few more scars to show for it.

The substance grants him more power, more strength, more speed. His senses, already sharp, become that much more, overwhelming his sensory intake, but he learns how to fight past the side-effects. Missions outside of the lab become easier, training obstacles the Baron create become simple to dispatch, he always hurts but there is no other option.

It's always been the Baron and him, but maybe... maybe it doesn't have to be.

He's tired of hurting, tired to running himself to the ground, tired of covert missions that paint Baron Draxum as the ultimate threat when he's doing all the work, tired to sneaking around New York City in a futile attempt of gathering information that will likely never be useful. He tired of being compared to the experiments that didn't live through the first test, he tired of living up to a trio of dead beings that weren't even strong enough to compete with him. He tired to the punishments, of the bruises, of the empty room, of the nightmares, of the expectations.

He's just tired.

On the morning of his fourteenth year, Vermin comes to the conclusion that Baron Draxum isn't the be-all-end-all, that his ideals do not have to be his own. It fills him with a giddiness that leaves him trembling, his heart pounding.

In the middle of his fourteenth year, Vermin leaves.

Age 14:

The first person Vermin officially meets a human named April O'Neil.

Age 16:

...Vermin is starting to think his name was meant to be Leonardo all along.

[mariclerc]

Iclawnic couple | cl16

Summary: your dream of dressing up as a Monster High character with your bestie comes true.

Warnings: none. mixed feelings and a bunch of fluff.

a/n: I've had this idea for a while, I hope you like it!! let me know if you want another part!

You and Charles have been best friends for as long as you can remember, you've been there for each other through thick and thin and you've gone to every event possible with him. And even his exes felt quite jealous that you were his friend, and you don't blame them, since between you and him there is a certain closeness and chemistry that everyone notices... Everyone except you two, of course.

So now you find yourself getting ready to go to a costume party with Charles wearing complementary Frankie Stein and Jackson Jekyll costumes, you are very excited because you have always wanted to dress up as a Monster High character and he has always loved the idea, so here you are... Frantically searching for the monster boots you had bought specifically for that costume.

“Charles! Have you seen my boots? You know, the monster ones! The ones with the big ass platform.” you say a little panicked, since you can't find your boots.

Charles, dressed in his Jackson Jekyll costume, but with a mischievous glint in his eyes, emerges from the living room to the bedroom.

“Oh my god, Frankie Stein please, calm down. We have all night, and I'm pretty sure those boots are eating their way out of the closet.” he says with a smirk on his face.

You glare at him playfully. “Haha, very funny. You know how important this is to me, this is my childhood dream!” you say and you stomp your foot, a cute and exaggerated gesture.

Charles chuckled. “I know, I know, my little monster. You're going to be the scariest Frankie Stein ever.” he walks over to you and helps you search for the boots, they were hiding behind a big box.

“You're the best!” you say softly.

There's a brief moment of silence, a charged atmosphere.

Then, Charles breaks the silence. “So, ready to scare some people tonight, eh?” he smiles as he look at you finishing getting ready.

“Oh, you bet! Especially those stupid costumes people come up with.” you say while grinning, you finish fixing some details of your costume.

He whistle. “Damn girl, you're going to kill everyone tonight!” he grins. “Although it doesn't matter if you go and eat their brains.”

You look at him, feeling a blush creep up your cheeks. “Oh, shut up you dumbass.” you say trying to play it cool.

You two laugh and leave the apartment to go to the party and see what the night has in store for you.

***

A crowded, noisy room filled with people in costumes, the music is blasting through the walls. You and Charles, in your costumes, are surrounded by a sea of people.

“You look so amazing!” he whispers in your ear.

Your heart skips a beat, you try to hide your blush. “Thank you charlie! You don't look too bad yourself, Jackson.” you say whispering back.

You two laugh while you approach a group of people in which there were several of the drivers and their girlfriends.

“Whoa guys, you two look so sick! Definitely the best costume of the night!” says Daniel raising his glass.

Logan's girlfriend nods. “Yeah, you two nailed it!” she says and you smile at her. “I like your Frankie costume, it looks so freaking good!”

Charles puts his hand on your waist, instinctively, as if his hand belonged there.

You smiled again. “Thanks! We've been planning this for ages!” you giggled. “It was like a dream for us.”

You feel a rush of emotions... His touch, the compliments, the attention. It's overwhelming, but in a good way.

“Yeah, it’s been a long time coming.” he says grinning.

You glance at him, your eyes meeting his. There's a silent understanding between you two, a connection that’s always been there but feels much stronger now.

Lewis speaks up. “Seriously, you two look good together.” he says and your cheeks flush again. Charles squeezes your waist gently.

“We’ve known each other forever.” says Charles smiling while you nod, unable to form words.

The conversation continues, but your mind is racing. You can’t stop thinking about the way Charles is looking at you, the way his hand feels on your waist.

The night wears on, filled with laughter, dancing, and more compliments. Every touch, every glance between you two is electric and, somehow, it feels right.

Suddenly, you start to feel a little bit overwhelmed by the amount of people dancing around you, you carefully signal to Charles, he was having a drink but was a little distracted.

“Charlie! I feel like I can't breathe!” you say while you fan yourself with your hands, your eyes wide with a mixture of excitement and overwhelm.

He smiles softly. “It's okay princess, we better go to a quieter place, okay?” he says and you nod.

He takes a step closer, his hand reaching out to gently touch your arm. You shiver slightly at his touch and you started walking through the sea of people until you reached a quieter place... That is, the kitchen.

A beat of silence passes between you. Charles’s eyes hold yours, a deep intensity in his gaze as you get to the desolated kitchen.

“It's just... It was a lot of people and I was getting so anxious.” you say softly as you get a glass of water. “And, well, you look... really good tonight.” you say in a whisper.

Charles smiled. “You look incredible too.” he says softly.

His hand slides down your arm to your hand, intertwining your fingers, you feel a surge of electricity between you two.

“I've wanted to be Frankie Stein since I was a kid.” you say smiling while you look down at your costume, a comforting familiarity washing over you.

He chuckled. “I know honey, and you're perfect.” he pulls you closer, until you’re almost touching, the scent of his cologne fills your senses.

“Thank you Charlie.” you say in a whisper.

Your heart pounds in your chest, you can feel the warmth of his breath on your face.

He takes a deep breath. “I’ve known you for what feels like forever, we’ve been through everything together... And I’ve always been there for you, haven’t I?” he says seriously.

You nod, your eyes locked on his.

“But there’s something more I want to be for you... Something more I want to give you.” his voice is low, filled with a vulnerability you’ve never heard before.

“What is it, Charles?” you ask him softly with a trembling voice.

“I’ve cared about you for as long as I can remember, but it’s more than that now. It’s something... bigger growing inside of me.” he says while looking you straight in the eyes, his hand moves to cup your face, his thumb gently brushing your lower lip.

You swallow hard. “Charles...” you say in a soft whisper, you can feel your heart racing.

He leans closer. “I'm in love with you.” his breath is warm on your lips. You close your eyes, feeling a mix of fear and exhilaration.

Slowly, you lean in and press your lips to his in a soft, gentle kiss. It’s a brief moment, but it feels like forever, as if it was destined to be this way for a very long time.

You pull away slightly, looking into his green eyes. He smiles, a mixture of relief and joy on his face.

“I love you too.” you say in a whisper while smiling and he smiled again, showing off his dimples.

***

Now you returned to Charles' apartment, you stand in front of the bathroom mirror, the harsh fluorescent light revealing the remnants of your Frankie makeup. A small, tired smile plays on your lips as you gently remove the false eyelashes.

“I can't believe we actually pulled that off.” you say muttering to yourself, you glance at your reflection, the Frankie Stein look slowly fading and a sense of peace washes over you.

Charles emerges from the bedroom, a lazy smile on his face, he holds one of his t-shirts and places it on the sink. “You look beautiful, even without the monster stuff.”

You blush, turning to face him. There’s a comfortable silence between you as you continue to remove your makeup.

“Well, you don't look too bad yourself, Jackson.” you giggle.

He laughs, a husky deep sound. “Oh, You don't know how grateful I am that you're here.”

He wraps his arms around you from behind, resting his chin on your shoulder. The warmth of his body against yours sends a shiver down your spine.

You turned to face him. “Me too, it feels... Right, being with you.” you look into his eyes, your heart pounding. There’s an undeniable connection between you two.

Charles leans in, his breath warm on your skin. You close your eyes, anticipating his kiss.

Suddenly, a wave of self-consciousness washes over you. You're still in the costume, a little bit vulnerable and exposed, you pull away slightly.

You laughed nervously. “I should probably... get changed.” you turn back to the mirror, your cheeks flushed.

Charles smiles. “Oh, of course, princess, just let me close my eyes.” he said and covered his eyes, you giggled as you took off your costume and put on the shirt he had left in the sink.

“Now you can open your eyes dummy.” you say giggling. “Oh god, you're such a dork... but a cute one.”

Suddenly you start to feel a little tired and sleepy, the exhaustion of the day begins to take its toll on you, Charles notices this and carries you in his arms.

“Hey, put me down, silly!” you say to him, he laughs.

“Never baby!” he starts walking towards the room.

He lays you down on his bed and you lie in his big arms, your head resting on his chest.

“God, I’m so tired.” you say, letting out a yawn. “Wearing those boots was painful, I looked cute, but my feet hurt.”

“Well, you did have a pretty long day chérie.” he says while smirking. “And those boots looked painful, honey, I'm not going to lie to you.” he giggled (darling)

He kisses the top of your head and you giggled.

“Yeah, but it was worth it.” you smile sleepily while you snuggle closer to him, feeling safe and content.

“The prettiest Frankie Stein I've ever seen.” he whispers.

“And you are the most athletic and silliest Jackson I have ever seen.” you say while and you both laugh softly.

“Oh, my little monster.” he says while he tickles your side.

“Charles, please! Stop it!” you laugh breathlessly.

He continues to tickle you until you're giggling uncontrollably. “Alright, alright baby. I’ll stop.” He says huffing with a smile on his face.

He pulls you closer, holding you tightly. You close your eyes, feeling a wave of warmth wash over you.

“Oh, I love you, Charlie!” you say sleepily.

“I love you too, y/n.” he says while smiling. “My pretty girl.”

You fall silent, your breathing becomes slow. Charles strokes your hair gently, his touch soothing and comforting.

A few minutes later, you feel him shift. He carefully moves you to the pillow, tucking you in.

“Sleep well, my little monster.” he whispers.

“Sweet dreams Jackson.” you muttered.

You drift off to sleep, the sound of Charles' heartbeat a comforting rhythm in your ears, giving you calm by sleeping next to him, something you had done before at sleepovers, but now it has a much stronger meaning. All of this was meant to happen, it's like it was written somewhere, but it doesn't bother you at all.

[mythicmanuscripts]

Hi! I love your blog so much. I'm literally obsessed! I've wanted sub aemond content for so long and your account is like an oasis in the desert.

I was thinking about aemond and how for so long he felt unwanted and unloved, like he didn't have a place among his family. Because of this I think he'd really like reader telling him "Your mine", even more so than being told "im yours". Not in a aggressive or possessive way (although I do think he'd like reader being protective of him) but in the sense that someone loves him so much that they would openly claim him as theirs. That they aren't ashamed of him or for others to know he's all theirs.

I also think it provides him some sense of security. Like he feels so safe knowing he belongs to you so he doesn't have to worry about anyone else.

Idk if this makes sense, hopefully it does😭I just can't stop thinking about this, I've had it on my mind for a while now.

Oh my god I love this!!! This is so perfect everything you wrote here is incredible.

There’s nothing explicit in my answer but it is very clearly sub!Aemond and has some suggestive tones so I’ll hide it under the cut just in case :))

So I think Aemond really struggles with the idea of being anyone’s first choice? He grew up as a second son, always teased and mocked and never taken seriously. He didn’t expect you to be any different.

The first thing you do that really shows Aemond how much you care for him is just how loyal you are? I’m thinking of a situation where you and your family are at the red keep to look for a husband for you, and obviously your family are trying their hardest to secure an betrothal from Aegon because he’s king.

But then Aemond catches your eye? You end up having a very simple conversations with him, and you know pretty much instantly that he’s the one you want. Aemond wants you too of course. He hasn’t felt this accepted in his life and he absolutely loves talking with you. You and him sit together at the far end of the table every dinner, taking amongst yourselves and Aemond doesn’t even acknowledge anyone else. He takes every scrap of your attention that he can, especially because he’s so certain that your parents are angling for Aegon and that once the betrothal is announced he won’t be able to spend time with you like this again.

You put a spanner in the works. After a few weeks at the red keep you tell your family in no uncertain terms that you want Aemond and Aemond only. Your family is hesitant, both because Aemond is the second son and because Aemond is known to be violent and cold.

But you insist.

When your parents go to Aemond to tell him that you have expressed your desire to marry him instead of Aegon, the poor lad just about feints. He says he would be honoured of course, and then the moment they leave he’s sprinting across the castle to your quarters.

You’re confused to see him knocking on your door. You know you shouldn’t open the door because people might see and rumours may start but you couldn’t care less. He is here, so you will let him in.

At first you actually think he looks upset? When you ask what’s going on he just softly asks, “Do you really want me? Did you mean it when you told your parents I was your first choice?”

You don’t even get to finish the word “yes” before he’s barrelling forwards and pulling you into a tight hug. He buries his head in your shoulder and clings to you. He’s so overwhelmed to hear that someone actually chooses him, never mind it being someone he already wishes he could marry.

You hug him back of course, and then when you try to pull away he just grips you tighter. It's like he's afraid if he lets go of you that you'll disappear. You end up having to just rub his back and whisper that you mean it, that you aren't going anywhere.

Aemond truly doesn’t even know what to do with himself when you tell him that you never even considered Aegon, from the moment you saw him no one else came close.

This is definitely where the possessiveness comes in, because there’d be a period between expressing this and actually having the betrothal ironed out and announced.

Until then, all the other male suiters try to get your attention and win your love and it drives Aemond absolutely insane. You actually have to watch him very closely or else he will lure a suitor into the gardens and kill them. He’s threatens to plenty of times.

A big part of this possessive comes from the fact that he honestly is just waiting for the other shoe to drop? He’s so certain that one day you'll wake up and realise what a terrible decision you've made and beg for the betrothal to be canceled.

So every time you talk to another man, he's so so convinced you'll prefer them and tell him that you don't want him anymore. Which is why he absolutely hates seeing you with other people because he thinks every time he's losing his chance.

And so every time you walk back to him and tell him that you can't wait for your parents to officially announce the betrothal he nearly starts crying. He's watching you choose him over and over again and he truly cannot believe it.

As much as he's very traditional and respectful, I think he kinda just falls apart when faced with the fact that you genuinely want him? He tell himself he'll do this the right way, the way that's expected of him but he can't control himself when he's faced with the reality that you actually genuinely want him.

I don't think you two would be able to wait until marriage for that exact reason. He cannot stand the thought of another even considering being with you and honestly he can't even sleep thinking about it.

He ends up knocking on your door most nights and spending hours with you. He can't get enough of you, and he especially can't get enough of hearing you say you love him and want him. How could he ever be expected to spend the night alone knowing that a few floors down there's a woman he absolutely adores who will open her door and let him cuddle her and hear about her day?

He cannot be expected to spend the nights alone and to watch you speak to others and to wait patiently until the betrothal is announced. He never expected to find someone who makes him feel loved and safe and now that he has found you he will never ever let you go.

[dani3lricciard0]

Star Crossed | D. Ricciardo

Summary: You are attending the Met Gala. You've been several times before, but this year Anna Wintour has invited you to perform. You meet Daniel Ricciardo on the red carpet, and you spend the evening getting to know eachother.

Pairing: Daniel Ricciardo x singer!reader

Warnings: none

Word count: 1.3k

A/N This is my first time writing in a really long time so pls go easy on me, and let me know if you want part 2! This part is more of a prologue, it will get spicier as it develops in future parts

-ˋˏ✄┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈

Part 1

It's the first Monday in May; Met Gala day. I've been before, and it's always been one of my favourite events of the year, but this year is different. This year, I'm performing.

I shouldn't be nervous, I've performed in front of thousands of people worldwide, but as I pull up to the red carpet, I can't remember the last time I felt this nervous. I close my eyes and focus on my breathing, trying to shut out the conversations of my team around me.

"Y/n, it's time to go", my assistant calls, jolting me from my thoughts. My stylist fusses with my hair, and I stand to step out of the car. As I step onto the carpet, the flash of cameras illuminate the night, and I can't help but feel a rush of excitement.

I smooth down the delicate fabric of my gown, a 2001 Karl Lagerfeld dress, and begin to navigate my way towards the cameras. The flashes are almost blinding, and the paparazzi start shouting directions at me, telling me where to look. At first, red carpets and paparazzi were overwhelming, but it's become second nature to me by now.

I make my way across the carpet and up the steps, pausing every now and then for photos and to say hi to a few industry friends before making my way into the opulent halls of the Metropolitan Museum of Art.

After catching up with an old friend, I hear an Australian voice calling my name. Glancing around, my eyes land on a familiar face, but one that I've only seen on television screens and in the pages of magazines.

Daniel Ricciardo.

He stands tall, making his way towards me. Despite attending a few races, I've never met him, and his easy smile draws me in like a magnet. I knew he was good-looking, but up close...

"Hi, I'm Daniel," he says, interrupting me from my thoughts and extending his right hand. I reach out and shake his hand, trying to ignore the shivers crawling up my arm at his touch.

"I'm a huge fan," he adds with a grin.

"Oh, you don't need to introduce yourself to me," I say, smiling back at him. "I'm a fan, too. Is this your first Met?"

"It is. Pretty crazy out there, right?" Daniel responds, gesturing towards the crowd outside.

"Sure is." I agree, nodding.

"I was just ahead of you on the carpet, you made it look easy," he says, beaming his signature grin again.

"Thank you," I chuckle. "It hasn't always come naturally, but y'know, it comes with the job. You must be used to it too, especially now you're a Netflix star."

"You watched Drive to Survive?" he asks, seeming surprised.

"Of course, like I said, I'm a fan too. It's great to meet you."

Our conversation flows effortlessly, spanning topics from our favourite tracks to travel adventures. Despite the glitz and glamour surrounding us, our interaction feels genuine, as if we've known each other for far longer than just a few minutes.

"So, what's it like performing in front of thousands of people?" Daniel asks, eyes sparkling with curiosity as we make our way around the exhibits.

"It's exhilarating," I reply, trying to mask the nerves that flutter in my stomach at the thought of tonight's performance. "But it can also be nerve-wracking. Tonight's no exception."

"I can imagine," he muses, leaning in slightly as if hanging on to my every word. "But I have no doubt you'll kill it out there."

His words offer a comforting reassurance, and I can't help but smile gratefully. "Thanks, Daniel. That means a lot." I say, as I see my assistant approaching from the corner of my eye. "That's my cue. It was great to meet you, Daniel." I say, not quite ready for the conversation to be over.

As I start to walk away, Daniel catches my arm gently, his touch sending a jolt of electricity through me. "Hey, if you need a distraction from the nerves, I'll be right here."

I chuckle nervously, grateful for his offer. "Thanks, I might take you up on that." With a final wave, I disappear into the backstage chaos, my mind buzzing with anticipation for the performance ahead.

As I take the stage, the bright lights momentarily blind me, but as my eyes adjust, I scan the crowd for familiar faces. And there, in the sea of Hollywood stars and models, I spot Daniel, his encouraging smile a beacon of support amidst the sea of faces.

Our eyes lock for a brief moment, and in that instant, I feel a surge of confidence wash over me. With his silent encouragement, I dive into the performance, pouring my heart and soul into each lyric. After my performance, I head back into the crowd to watch the other performers and catch up with a few friends, but I can't escape the disappointment in the back of my mind that I haven't bumped into Daniel again.

Later in the night, as I'm beginning to get bored of forced conversations, our paths cross again. Daniel's presence is like a magnet, drawing me in with his infectious energy and easy charm. We find ourselves laughing and sharing stories, the rest of the gala fading into the background as we lose ourselves in each other's company.

"So, what's next for you after tonight?" Daniel asks. I smile, feeling a rush of warmth at his interest. "Well, this was my last performance for a little while. I'm taking a break for a bit before heading to the studio to work on new music. What about you?"

Daniel shrugs casually. "Oh, same old. Just doing some promo stuff for Red Bull. I'm desperate to get back on the track."

Instinctively, I reach out and gently touch his arm. "I have no doubt you'll get there, you're a talented driver."

Before I can say anything else, Daniel reaches into his pocket and pulls out his phone. "Hey, would you mind if I got your number?" he asks, a hint of uncertainty in his voice.

My heart skips a beat at his request, and I nod, trying to contain my excitement. "Of course," I reply, trying to keep my voice steady as I take the phone from his hands and enter my number.

"Thanks," Daniel says with a grateful smile as he takes his phone back. "I'd love to stay in touch."

The warmth in his voice sends a thrill through me, and I can't help but smile back. "Me too," I reply, my heart fluttering with anticipation.

As the night begins to wind down, the energy of the gala mellows into a gentle hum of conversation and soft music. Daniel and I linger for a while longer, savouring the final moments of the evening.

I glance at the time on my phone and realise that it's time for me to leave. "I hate to cut this short, but I should probably head out. Mind if we take a quick picture before I go?"

"Of course," he says warmly, leaning in as I snap a picture of the two of us at our table. "It's been an amazing night, thank you for making me feel welcome at my first Met."

"The pleasure was all mine. See you again soon?" I say, trying to hide the sadness creeping into my voice at the thought of saying goodbye.

"I hope so," he smiles, opening his arms and pulling me in to a gentle embrace. I reluctantly tear myself away, the lingering scent of his cologne leaving a bittersweet reminder of our evening together.

Settling into the backseat of my car, the picture of Daniel and I burns brightly on my phone screen. I decide to share the moment to my Instagram story, tagging Daniel alongside the honey and badger emojis. I place my phone in my bag to avoid the notifications that are sure to start rolling in, and rest my head against the window, shutting my eyes to replay the night in my head, wondering when I'll see Daniel again.

[fourmoony]

Hiii I hope your doing well !!! I was wondering If you could do james and reader (established relationship) where they are out together somewhere with new people and (like me) reader has a lovely thing called anxiety, I feel like he'd notice right away despite being the opposite. (I'm a sucker for james entirely i need some sweet encouragement from him) I don't know what it is but I tend to feel totally invisible and lonely in Public places, despite being with friends or ppl that i do know. For some reason ppl tend to acknowledge everyone else n leave me out, which I've struggled with for a very long time unfortunately !!

So if you can somehow incorporate that, for me and anyone else who's ever felt that way, that would be great :)) I'll leave it up to youu ♡♡ p.s. I'm obsessed with ur writing

thanks for requesting, angel! <3 1.6k f!reader modern!au

as someone with an overwhelming friend group, learning the difference between not being included and having friends who will just talk into the abyss and if you can keep up, cool, was key lmao

James' hand hasn't left your thigh since you sat down at the table, a sweet encouragement that you relish in. It's a grounding touch, encouraging squeezes here and there when you manage to involve yourself in the conversation. Even when your food had been served, James' touch didn't falter as he stabbed rather uncoordinatedly at his pasta with his left hand.

His thumb moves in small circles against the inside, a distracting touch only in that his hand is dangerously close to disappearing under your skirt. You worry someone will see, get the wrong idea, and that will just send you spiralling for weeks, the awkwardness heavy in your chest. You're an over-thinker, you analyse everything, every movement, every tick of someones jaw, the light of their eyes, the tone of their voice. It's a blessing and a curse, really, your ability to instantly sense change within someone.

You can't help but notice the way that the conversation has carried on without you. Sirius and Remus are bickering, a fire in their eyes that you know very well means they're enjoying it despite their exasperated stances. Further down the table, Lily, Mary, Dorcas, and Marlene are gossiping about someone they went to school with, yelling excited agreements about the person in question, the injustices they must have committed against the girls. Even Peter is louder than normal, caught in a heated debate with James about the upcoming Six-Nations game.

There's not a conversation happening that you feel equipped to join, nor one you've been outright included in. James has assured you multiple times, too many times, in your opinion, that his friends are just loud. You know this - knew this when you agreed to dinner. You love them all. They've always been kind, never cruel. But in the lulling moments, where you realise just how much of an outsider you are in comparison to a group of people who've known each other for over ten years. They grew up together, learned valuable lessons together, have memories that were key, intrinsic moments in their lives. They have a history that you're not a part of.

Sometimes, that feels impossible to compete with. Even when James reminds you that his friends aren't not talking to you, they're just... talking. They're the kind of people to talk to fill a silence, and if you're listening, great. James often calls it 'talking into the abyss'. None of his friends ever actually require a response when talking, they're the kind of people to just keep going until interrupted. Sometimes, even when interrupted.

The table is a loud cacophony of everyone interrupting each other and it has your palms slick and pulse beating in your neck.

The waiter has long since abandoned trying to get you all to close out, even as the dessert plates have been cleared and all that's left are the half-empty, warmed glasses of various alcohols that remain on the table. James must feel you shift in your seat, because he squeezes your thigh in acknowledgement, his eyes flicking away from Peter for half a second. When they land on you, his head turns, conversation long forgotten. Peter doesn't seem fussed, just turns to try and split up whatever row Sirius and Remus are pretending to have.

"All good?" James asks, eyes soft.

His brows are hooked in the middle where they're furrowed, body shifting to face you easier. You nod, lips rubbing against each other. You're scared to talk, scared to be betrayed by your own voice. You've held your own most of the night, you don't want James to forcibly enter you into a conversation. It's not fair on him to have to deal with you, like this.

You should know better, though. James only frowns. It doesn't suit him. Your boyfriend is bright like the summer sun, always smiling, always cheerful. He's the colour between yellow and bright, pure light. Frowning doesn't suit him. It hurts your heart.

His head dips, close to your ear, voice soft as he asks, "You wanna head home?"

"No," You shake your head, frown matching his, "No, Jamie. I'm okay."

His lips press to your cheek, soft and warm, and then he smiles. The heavy feeling in your chest eases a little, just looking at him. James often thinks he has to be proactive to help you in difficult social situations. You've never had the guts to tell him all he has to do is smile real nice at you and just a smidge of that grey cloud budges.

James groans, loud and obnoxious and makes a show of stretching. You avoid looking pointedly at the way his top pulls up his waist at the movement, heat swirling in your cheeks from the mere idea of his skin being on show. Conversations halt for the impending goodbye, and you swear you see relief on Remus' face at not having to be the first to bear the bad news marking the end of the night. He gives you a warm smile that you return, another smidge of that anxiety lifting.

"You off?" Sirius asks over his pint glass.

James nods, "Shattered, yeah."

There's a mixture of goodbye's to both you and James as you sling your coats on. James makes half-hearted plans to see everyone at some point over the next week, gives both of your cuts for dinner to Sirius in cash, squeezes your hand in delight when Lily declares that she'll text you tomorrow to see about coffee. There's a look in her eyes that says she hopes this time you'll accept. She's asked multiple times, sometimes through James, sometimes texting you, herself. She never seems put out when you politely give her some excuse or other, never asks questions as to why the idea jars you so much. You're glad, because you wouldn't have an answer as to why.

The air is cool against your flushed skin when James holds the door and ushers you outside. The sky has turned a dark, midnight blue and you silently wonder how long you actually spent inside the little restaurant. The door swings closed and James is at your side, hand immediately in yours and spreading a calm warmth all over you.

"They really love you, you know?" James speaks thoughtfully.

You should've known your boyfriend would want you to talk about it. You've never had anyone who cares enough, before. But you're trying. Same as he is.

"I love them too. You just," You sigh, shoes scuffing along the pavement as you walk towards James' flat, "You know how I get after too much social interaction."

Your boyfriend hums in acknowledgement, thumb rubbing a soothing pattern across the back of your hand. "I know, lovie. I just wanted to remind you."

"I'm sorry we had to leave."

James halts walking, tugging you back until you're facing him. A passer by mutters something under their breath at the two of you standing in the middle of the street. James doesn't pay them any mind, but your pulse thunders for a fraction of a second at the risk of conflict. James squeezes your hand, "You don't have to apologise. I'm happy you came, and I was ready to leave, anyway."

"You didn't say anything until you noticed I wasn't talking to anyone, though." You counter.

James is silent for a moment, trying to garner the words. Then, "I love when you involve yourself in conversations with my friends. It makes me happy to see you all together. But I'll never force you to do more than you're willing to. We were in there for three hours, love. Any normal person would be exhausted of them, by then."

You huff a laugh, turning to pick up a walking pace again. James follows, allowing the silence to overcome you both as you think of a response. He's so patient, always so patient and sacrificial. You wonder if he'll ever tire of that. The thought scares you.

"Is it too much, for you?" You ask, then clarify, "To feel like you're always keeping an eye on me, saving me from social situations just because I can't function normally."

James' immediate answer is No.

Simple. Plain. It's all the answer you need, but he goes on, anyway.

"Everyone has their thing. Remus is a lot like you. Sirius brings him out of his shell, sure. It's why they're always bickering. But for years, Remus used to just... brood. Wouldn't talk, just observe. Maybe for different reasons, but it was the same thing. He's still here."

You smile. Remus has always been rather lovely to you, almost like he knew, somehow, that his friends can be overwhelming. That social settings can be overwhelming. "So it doesn't annoy you?"

You feel like a child asking for reassurance, but you know James will always give you it, no questions asked. And he means it, too.

"Never. You take part in as much as you want, I'll never be upset with you for saying you've had enough." He tells you, his flat appearing in the near distance.

"I think I'll go for coffee with Lils this week." You announce, feeling pleasantly calm with the admittance.

It doesn't send a spike of anxiety through you like it did when she first asked. Not when you know James won't be cross if you have to leave early, or call him from the bathroom for a get-out. If you become exhausted, if you don't want to be social anymore, it'll be okay. You're sure Lily will understand. You hope she will.

As much as an effort as James' friends have made with you, you feel it necessary to make some in return.

"She'll be over the moon, love." James says, pulling you closer to his side and pressing a kiss to the side of your head.

You smile at the affection, feeling the clouds lift as though James' personality singlehandedly batted them all away. The sun after a storm. You're grateful for it. For him.

[wishful-thinking64]

One Hell of an Unpopular Opinion #03

Characters like Barbie Wire, Chaz, Crimson, Octavia, and Stella only exist as plot devices to garner sympathy for other characters. _______ I knew fully well that Chaz and Crimson were going to merely be plot devices for Moxxie the more I watched Exes & Oohs. And sure enough, Chaz was killed at the end of that very episode and Crimson is yet another wacky cartoon villain that the narrative expects for you to take seriously. Both of these characters existed so that the audience could gain sympathy (or at least pity) for Moxxie being raised in a Mafia family and having been abused as a child along with being betrayed by his ex-boyfriend (who also happened to be Millie's ex-boyfriend for some reason.) Other than Moxxie's Mafia family upbringing making zero sense the more you think about it, Viv has basically done this exact backstory before in the form of Angel Dust (with the whole mobster backstory who was also abused by his father.) However, the Exes & Oohs episode and title actually stems from one of the HH mockup episodes that was originally about Charlie and Vaggie coming across Charlie's ex, Seviathan (yes, that's what Viv named him), and his sister, Helsa, while they were at a dinner party.

Now, do I think Chaz and Crimson could've had the potential to be good characters? In all honesty, no. Especially not Chaz. The guy is a harmful stereotype of pansexual people and how, "They'll sleep with anyone," which no, they won't. I'm not pansexual myself but that thought process is as gross as it is fucking stupid. The only person who I've seen even re-writing Chaz has been Loves Art23 (I mainly know her for YouTube videos being critical on Hazbin Hotel + Helluva Boss along with other shows like the disaster known as High Guardian Spice) and I think she's done a fairly good job so kudos to her for making him work. Personally, though I'm scrapping him as that gives me one less character to worry about when re-writing HB. Crimson would have to be heavily and I mean HEAVILY reworked/re-written in order for him to make any actual sense. That and I'm tired of every character having some variation of the same daddy issues in the Hellaverse. Which means he's also gonna get axed from me. Moving onto the ladies I mentioned, let's start off with Barbie Wire.

Having been foreshadowed since the pilot of I.M.P. (as seen when Tilla was still Barb's and Blitzo's older sister rather than their mother) Barbie Wire was an anticipated character by fans for years! And then her actual appearance finally happened in Unhappy Campers, an episode hated by practically everyone who saw it, and no one really cared about her showing up, other than the fact that the writers thought that having her seduce a BARELY legal adult would make for a good joke, when in reality, it only made everybody uncomfortable and several people dislike Barbie because of it. Sure, near the end of the episode she had that "emotional" scene with Blitzo that wants the viewers to feel bad for him and Barbie before she left but in the long run it didn't matter as fans barely even talk about it because of how uneventful it truly was. So, with that out of the way, would I keep Barbie Wire around for a rewrite of HB? To that I say, yes! There are several paths Barbie Wire's overall character could go in. If you're mainly sticking to canon, then what you have to work with is a former circus performer who lost her mother in a fire caused by her twin brother that left his own best friend to rot and be disabled for the rest of his life. It's very likely that this very fire, caused her to be out of a job and probably even homeless for a bit which could explain why she ended up becoming both a drug attic and a drug dealer. Homelessness is one of the few things that nobody wants to experience. It causes people to be filled with a sense of overwhelming loneliness and desperation as many of them either believe that there's nothing they can do or they do anything and everything that they can to get out of it even if that means resorting to crime. If you wanted to have her be loosely based on canon instead, you could make it to where she never learned about who started the fire and actually stuck with Blitzo well into adulthood. Have her become one of the members of I.M.P. and later down the line have her learn through someone like Fizz or maybe Cash (her and Blitzo's father) what actually went down that day. Have her be rightfully pissed off at Blitzo for screwing over multiple people along with being the one responsible for killing their mom. Anyway, let's proceed onto Stella and her daughter Octavia.

As much as the narrative wants me to hate Stella with a burning passion cause she hurts Stolas, I can't do it for multiple reasons but I'll list my top three. #01.) Stella's just as (if not even more so) stuck in this arranged loveless marriage as Stolas is. #02.) If the man I had no choice in marrying not only cheated on me with a man from one of the lowest classes in all of Hell but IN OUR OWN HOME & SHARED BEDROOM NO LESS? OH, FUCK NO!

#03.) This woman had to spend 9 months having to nourish and care for a baby inside her stomach that she had with a man that didn't even want to sleep with her. On top of that, she had to have become pregnant with Octavia when she was a young adult since current day Stolas and Stella are only in their mid 30s. I need you to let that information sink in.

In short, I can't hate Stella for loathing Viv's pathetic self insert bird twink with every fiber of her being.

Having said that, would I have Stella in my HB rewrite? Well, considering that I plan on keeping the war that happened in the bible that caused Lucifer and several angels to fall from grace, one of which being Stolas. Kind of. Allow me to elaborate, I would keep Stella as Octavia's mother but I wouldn't have her marry Stolas. I'd have her be a surrogate mother that way Stolas still gets an heir and Octavia could still exist. Speaking of Octavia...

We all know that she exists to make Stolas look like a better person as several stans of this show love to say how much of a good dad Stolas is when he isn't. He neglects Octavia frequently in favor of Blitzo and only pays attention to her when she's gone although EVEN THAT doesn't last long as shown in Seeing Stars where HE KNEW Octavia was missing on Earth but rather than ACTIVELY look for his daughter, what does he do? HE SITS THROUGH A STUPID LIVE COMEDY SHOW CAUSE BLITZO IS PERFORMING! HE COMPLETELY SIDELINES HIS OWN DAUGHTER IN FAVOR OF A LIVE COMEDY SHOW!

God, Octavia deserves so much better than to have a dad like him. I'm keeping Octavia for my HB rewrite so that this poor girl not only realizes how much of a bastard her dad is but eventually gets the found family she deserves. I don't plan for it to be through I.M.P. though. In closing, the characters of this show deserve to be better developed but especially the women in them.

_______

That was a long one to get through cause it's been on my mind for a while. Thank you all for reading through it and bye for now everybody!

[justawritterwithideas]

law in pink | s.r

♡ previous part | next part ♡

summary: Finally the mystery of Mr. "W" has been solved, but his appearance will cause quite a few problems.

warnings: this chapter contains strong themes such as harassment, strong vocabulary, physical violence, among other topics !!!

this story is spencer reid (season 7) x ssa elle woods!reader

words: 1,606 words.

! a/n at the end of the chapter, pls read it; I think this is not one of the best chapters I've ever written, so I apologize in advance :(

The stares around you were attentive to your words, even though Hotch and Rossi weren't the gossipy type, they wanted to hear the reason why that jerk was so interested in spending time alone with you.

"Warner and I have known each other since I was a student at UCLA, but he broke up with me when he decided he didn't want a 'Marilyn' by his side, but a 'Jackie'. To prove that I could be a 'Jackie' too, I decided to study to get into Harvard Law, but eventually I realized that I didn't need a 'Kennedy' to decide if I wanted to be a 'Marilyn' or a 'Jackie', if I wanted to I could be both at the same time." You took a long sip from your cup of coffee, which was already iced, before watching the faces of the people listening intently to your story. "Things didn't end very well between the two of us, even more so after a certain event in our college life that made him want to try it with me and I turned him down."

You bit your lip in embarrassment, but not for being overwhelmed by the fact of what had happened, but for hiding that part of your story from your friends.

"I know you have to be as honest as possible in this kind of work, but I didn't think I'd run into Warner one more time in life. To me, he's a chapter in the past and that, if I could, I would eliminate him." You admitted with a laugh, bringing both hands to your waist. "I'm sorry, guys."

"It's okay, darling. It's understandable why you didn't talk about him, he's a total jerk from head to toe, even his cologne shows it." Emily was the first to comfort you, something that made you let out a soft sigh and give her a small smile.

"As long as that doesn't interfere with your performance and behavior, you wouldn't have to explain, Woods." Hotch commented, who was nodding and giving one of those smiles that you understood was a soft sigh to your heart.

"Thanks Hotch." You replied back, as you heard him let out a 'get back to work'.

You stared at the coffee cup, sensing Spencer's presence in front of you. Your gaze was fixed on this one, who was folding his arms as he watched the toe of his sneakers.

"Doesn't it bother you that he's around?"

"Mhm?"

"Doesn't it bother you that he's this... him around you? You know, involved in the case." You sighed, resting both hands on your hips as you watched him. "Because if I were in your position it would bother me, much more so with his attitude and wordplay concerning J.F. Kennedy and his possible affair with Marilyn Monroe-"

"Spencie, it doesn't bother me at all. Warner is part of my past and without him, I might still be in California, working at something I might not like and living in that bubble that held me back for too long..." Your feet carried you to stand in front of Spencer, managing to take his hand in your hands and you smiled. "Besides, I wouldn't have met the best jet travel companion."

The blush on the tall man's cheeks made you smile, leaving a kiss on his cheek and a squeeze on his hand.

"Even if you don't believe it, I'm stronger than I look." You commented as you tried to strike a pose that could show off the muscles in your arms, but ended up laughing as you saw him fall into a fit of laughter at your attempt. "I'll be fine, Spencie. Don't worry."

The latter let out a sigh and nodded softly, allowing himself to stop worrying about the man who looked like he would cause more trouble than he thought.

The rest of the week had passed quite calmly, the case had given quite good resolutions and they had managed to find the culprit after a couple of evidences.

Your hands found themselves putting the papers away inside a folder with the name of the case on it, placing them inside the box of evidence and documents left on the station table.

"A lot of work, Y/N?"

Your whole body tensed at the sound of that voice, causing you to turn to watch Warner enter the office.

"Sort of, but that's normal for this kind of work, after all." Your response was terse, turning your attention back to those papers.

It was clear in the atmosphere that you didn't want to share with Warner, and that what you wanted in that instant was for someone to arrive and interrupt your meeting alone with him.

You had both ended in a rather humiliating way, especially for him, even more so when you came out of college with contacts and he with no girlfriend or contacts, even with a matriculation with honors.

"You should thank me" Your head turned to look at him, feeling his words give off that self-centeredness that had blinded you when you were dating him and that, now, only made you want to vomit "without me, you wouldn't have made the decision to study at Harvard and get this life of luxury you have right now."

"With you or without you, I would have succeeded whatever I did because I did it with my effort, not yours." You paused before turning around. "But yes, I do appreciate you acting like a rube and opening my eyes to what I wanted to be in the future. Thank you, Warner." Your tone of voice was pure sarcasm, but the man didn't even know a lie from the truth.

Your hands were quick so you could put things away as quickly as possible, but your body was set in stone when you felt his hands run along your waist.

"Don't play hard to get, I know you miss me as much as I miss you. You try to dissemble in front of your colleagues, but I know you still love me, c'mon boo bear."

Disgust was in the pit of your throat and your body was not reacting to those actions, why couldn't you move?

" L-let me go, Warner."

Suddenly, your mind reacted, beginning to send stimuli throughout your body in the form of an alert.

"Don't be mean, Y/N... Admit it, you miss me."

"Let me go now."

 "I know you like it and I know you don't mean it."

"Stop it!"

Your palm began to burn as the sound of the resounding slap you gave your opponent reached your ears, causing you to quickly pull away from him. Your chest rose and fell, feeling the desperation to escape right then and there as fast as possible.

"On your fucking life ever touch me again, on your fucking life." Your hands went to your body, beginning to bring warmth to yourself in order to soothe yourself.

"You're stupid, look how you left my face. You're going to pay for it."

But before you could do anything, Warner's body fell against the table. Your gaze lifted, settling on Spencer who was holding the man's wrist and keeping him pinned completely immobilized.

"Even you won't be able to get out of this one, 'lawyer'. You dare touch her again and I swear I'll kill you and get rid of you without even realizing you're missing." Spencer's steady gaze made her connect with yours, feeling her relax at the calmer sight of you. "Are you okay?"

Your head nodded, watching as Warner couldn't get rid of Spencer even if he gave all his efforts. Your body relaxed, feeling at peace as you realized that, with Spencer by your side, no one could hurt you.

"Yeah, I'm fine."

The trip back home took longer than usual, the recent events had left you spinning some thoughts that were not going to leave you alone.

Everyone was worried, but they didn't want to relive the events for clear reasons. But you also didn't want everyone to see you as if you were made of porcelain, what had happened had left you with more lessons than fears.

Your attention turned to the cup of tea in front of you, taking in the smell of book and coffee wafting from your seatmate.

"Green tea with a teaspoon of sugar, just the way you like it."

A faint smile tugged at your lips, caused by the man's arrival.

"Thank you, Spencie. This was just what I needed right now." You admitted, taking it in your hands and taking a soft sip, letting out a long sigh after swallowing it. "It's been quite a long day today."

Silence flooded you both, causing you to bite your lower lip in order to turn in the direction of your opponent.

"Y/N, about what happened..."

"It's okay Spencer, we don't need to talk about it. Besides, I don't think it's the right place." You sighed.

You both stood in silence, respectively staring into your cups with that splinter in your heart. The situation had been enough for both of you.

"Thank you Spencie." The silence you decided to break, turning in his direction. "I appreciate you being there."

"War-" he paused "He won't bother you again, rest assured, I'll take care of it personally."

You nodded softly before turning your attention to your mug, keeping the silence between the two of you.

Your hand wrapped around Spencer's arm, resting your head on his shoulder.

This time the silence wasn't awkward.

It was a comfortable one that indicated they would be okay.

Yeah, they'll be alright.

♡ previous part ♡

a/n: hello everyone, I am finally making my presence known I'm really sorry for leaving you all so soon, but if you don't know, I'm in my last year of college and it's become a total chaos, and between my assigments and social life, my inspiration had to give up and it's become a bit difficult to bring you a chapter of both "Law in Pink" and "Boy Wonder and the Rockstar", even bringing you au's. I promise you that I had this chapter almost ready but I wasn't quite convinced, so I didn't want to leave you with a chapter that I really felt wasn't the essence that I give off in each chapter. I hope you liked it and I'll see you in the next chapter of "Law in pink", thanks to all who have left their comments and interactions, I appreciate them infinitely. see you soon!

If you like it, don't forget to like and repost it.

a lot of love, alme. ❀

[ajaxbell]

Hard to Find was a teen dream come true for me though not in the usual way.

Though I very much enjoyed this I'm not sure if I can wholeheartedly recommend it. It's not going to be for some people. But for the ones who get it it will be perfect. For me this was the cdrama of my teen goth dreams (if I'd known what cdramas were way back then). And it did everything I needed it to do in that regard. But objectively I had issues with big chunks of the story, with great setups that were never used, and pieces that never quite came together in the end.

Right upfront I'll say story-wise and casting-wise this was really uneven. I don't think the female lead was quite on par with the male lead. He really carries most of this on the strength of his impeccable jawline. And I've seen him do scorching love scenes in other shows, but the female lead here can't quite meet the heat he brings. And initially I was a little concerned about every other cast member looking like they were 14 years old. But the core cast ended up doing a good job with what they were given and some of the characters turned out to be truly quite excellent.

The villain could have been stronger in the beginning (though his over the top scenery chewing really worked in the end). The romance was really quite sweet and decently done. There was a run of misunderstandings  as the basis for plot conflict which isn't my fave but ultimately I think it was handled well here. And a love triangle that I actually truly enjoyed how it ended up being handled.

I generally prefer cohesive plots and well developed characters with true arcs in my stories. I'm not much for just vibes being enough, but in this case, the vibes alone are worth it. I was a goth teen way back in youth and if this had existed then I would have been insufferable about it. People would have shunned me because I wouldn't have talked about anything else. I'd have gone to dance clubs in Helian Xi cosplay, swanning around in goth robes and playing at brooding in the snow. The first part of this really has the vibes of The Crow (1994). Zhao Yiqin is absolutely perfect as the gloomy goth prince, Helian Xi. He broods like a champ and his jawline is sharp enough to cut through any plot issues. The first part of this really has the vibes of The Crow mostly because Helian Xi really being his best ancient Chinese Eric Draven. A lot of gloomy fairy prince vibes here too. And the choices for the sets make this atmospheric in a very fairy tale way.

As I said, this is not without flaws and not as good as other stuff I've seen from this team. But it's so beautifully shot, it's worth watching for the visuals alone. It is decently acted despite all the teens. The sound track is excellent. The costumes are just gorgeous. Though I do not love the hairstyling on the female lead. It's truly distracting in an otherwise dazzling show. And the eps are all like 18 minutes long, so it's nearly impossible not to just race through it, entranced by how beautiful it is. It goes so fast you might not even notice the shaky story issues. Alas the ending does go in for choosing to further the plot at the expense of being true to the characters they developed, which is too bad, but it does not ruin the overall dreamy brooding goth mood of the show. So yeah, I recommend it only if you want the full on melodramatic teen goth feeling of overwhelming love in a fantasy kingdom of brooding princes and can look past the plot hitches. Really it's so visually stunning I would watch it again just for that.

[wayfayrr]

I've been on a little bit of a first kick recently - so here's a first meeting of reader and him based on this piece of the dolls au by @ovegakart (this amazing comic piece in particular) and on the topic of tagging people I've got some new friends on discord who have a love of first so consider this a gift <3 @fanfic-fairy-fountain @dreaming-of-lu @angry-trashcan @neverchecking <333 enjoy!

[masterlist]

“Hello..? Time… Sky… Link? Is anyone there?”

As if being forced into Hyrule wasn’t bad enough when I was with the chain, now that cursed shadow decides to push it even further by separating me from them? Why not just kill me outright… Is it to try to give the heroes hope? Wouldn’t it be worse for them for it to kill me outright than string them along with false hope?

“IS ANYONE HERE? HELLO??”

Where even am I? It looks like… Oh. Alone in catacombs, yeah if there’s anywhere to be killed by a malicious shadowy entity it would be in catacombs. Are there going to be redeads here?  If the rest of the monsters are anything to go off of it’s going to be much worse dealing with them now. They can’t handle sunlight though, can they? 

Then that means the pile of rubble in the centre here should be the safest place for me to think through the best way to handle all of this. If the shadow really wants to get to me then of course that won’t stop it but I have to try something right? Is sitting on top of what looks like a grave a little disrespectful? Yes. Do I have many options at the minute? No.

“-Wait-!”

WHY IS THE GRAVE SLIDING OPEN - WHAT WAS THAT!? WHY DOES IT SOUND LIKE SOMEONE IS YELLING?? 

“What… happened? Where is this place?”

I think without a doubt the sound I’ve just made is the most blood-curdling scream I’ve ever let out and - WHY IS HE COVERING MY MOUTH!?

“I’m sorry I know you’re confus- ACK.”

Was biting him the right option? Probably not! But it’s the only thing I could think of to do seeing as well, I'm not exactly calm at this moment in time. Despite the fact that this man has known me for, what, the span of less than a minute, he seems to have at the very least noticed my panic. Backing off like you would with a scared animal - do I really look that petrified? It’s taking everything in me now to not give into my racing heart. 

“I’m sorry, I must’ve overstepped your boundaries. But please can you not be so loud?”

“....”

“... yeah. Yeah I can be a bit quieter”

“So you uhhh-”

Where do I even start - this man just - He just crawled out of a grave. What do you even respond to that with??? 

“...You come round here often?”

[name]. [name] what the heck was that. That's how you flirt with someone at a bar not speak to a living corpse.

“No, I don’t really?”

“Yeah, I figured. I -”

“Are you alright?”

“Look I’m just a bit overwhelmed, I was separated from my group and dropped here then you- You crawled out of a grave and now I’m just?? I’m just stressed and this is only things that have happened today. Now I know that you’re probably more stressed for obvious reasons, but I’m just - I’m sorry for screaming.”

He took a step closer to me at that, not trying to be intimidating, but more cautious. Asking for permission to touch me with an invitingly open outstretched arm, one that seemed to promise some sort of salvation from all the stress I’ve been feeling. One that I was embarrassingly quick to accept. His touch - His hold, is so warm for someone who should really be so cold, there’s definite comfort in feeling his heart beating as well something that proves he’s alive. It didn’t last for long though, as he pulled himself away, reluctantly if I were being bold in how I was to describe it. His fingers lingered, resting on my arm in such a teasingly wanting way. He’s definitely a link thats for sure, that helps me to be more comfortable around him than I would have been with anyone else. He looks like he’s about to start crying.

I - oh god I’m the first person he’s seen since he came back to life. 

“Are you alright link?”

Was that the wrong thing to say? He hasn’t introduced himself to me,  I shouldn’t have said that. It seems like now it’s his turn to look confused - more so than he already was. 

“you how do you know my name?”

“I just guessed, the group I was with before they - well they all looked similar and went by the same name ‘link’ so I just assumed it was the same with you. I hope that doesn’t bother you.”

“No it doesn’t.” Why is he reaching for my face? He’s got such a soft look on his face, do I remind him of someone? He’s been dead so it could be possible I guess, but it feels like there’s more to how he said it than just something that simple. 

“Oh my dearest love...”

His hands are so soft… it’s hard not to just lean into his touch and stay there, but there are more important things to be dealing with right now. As much as I’d prefer to not have these questions answered. 

“What do you mean by that link? I don’t - I don’t think I’ve met you before.”

He’s so warm, I hate the fact that he’s most likely going to stop holding me when he realises I’m not the person he’s really ever going to want in a relationship. 

“You haven’t but, I can already tell that you’ll be my beloved soon enough.”

“I’m sorry? We’ve only just met how can you tell s- ACK”

This has to just be a link thing. What is it that makes them fall so quickly? But to hold someone so tightly when you've only just met them - when you’ve only just come back from death?  That doesn’t seem like a healthy thing for him, not in the slightest. 

Is my shoulder wet?

Why would it be wet - he was tearing up earlier and - no there it is he’s sniffling as if he’s trying his hardest not to cry. Even if he’s mildly delusional how cruel would you have to be to not help someone go through something as tough as this clearly is. It’s not hard to gently rub his back as he cries onto me, it’s not hard to hum to him as he clutches me like a lifeline, it’s not hard to be here for him when I have to do so little for him. 

“Link? Would you like to talk about it? I don’t know you but - but I’ll be here to listen to you.”

“Thank you. It’s simply that I - I don’t know why or how I got here, It’s simply that I woke up in there after everything then I saw you -”

“[name]”

“[name] and well you know what has happened since. I have to thank you for being here though, there’s something about you, some kind of energy that just feels like a part of myself that I lost. You feel like home to me [name]”

With that last sentence, he burrows his head even further into my neck seeking what I can only guess is comfort. He’s probably just desperate for another person's touch right now, rather than him having fallen in love with me from the briefest interaction that didn’t even go that well.   There’s no harm in waiting here with him for a moment though. What could go wrong in this amount of time?

[eatyourmaker]

Alright.

If I don't come back from my indefinite break consider this the blog's requiem...

I love this community, and it will always hold a special place in my heart, and I'm genuinely scared of letting it go. I'm scared that my inner turmoil will have ruined the series and fandom for me.

But I've met such lovely people and made wonderful friends here. I've made art and seen wonderful art, and had great conversations and exchanges with people...

The small following I've accumulated? I've nothing bad to say about you.

You all are so genuinely lovely, and have made my experience here... So lovely...

Now onto the not so great things...

Sometimes...

Being a creator in this fandom....

Feels like a fucking nightmare.

Seeing as this might be the last thing I post here I might as well leave no stone unturned and come clean, right?

It's so fucking anxiety inducing, and unfortunately I couldn't handle the heat.

Okay so here are some things that have been weighing me down.

1. Hostile responses to different types of content.

it's so confusing... it seems like the fandom's response to fan-created content is so... wishywashy.

On the one hand, if you create something with dark themes you run the risk of being called gross 'n weird.

On the other hand, if you create content that's just happy and silly you get the "this is unrealistic, where's the nuance?" comments.

Silly or Dark, it doesn't matter someone has got something to say.

Damned if you do damned if you don't.

The fuck am i supposed to do??? What do you want from me???

I try my best to just create whatever I know will make me happy, but the knowledge that wherever I turn there will be that type of response just give me such overwhelming anxiety, like...

And I know this sounds stupid and like a personal problem, and I thought it was too for a long time--- that's why I internalized it, but I've had conversations with my small circle of friends who are also creators and the space and from what I've gleemed they feel the same way.

They are also nervous to post the content they wanna post because of the same things.

On the one hand, I'm glad I'm not alone in my feelings, but on the other hand, it saddens me that this is such a problem people are scared of posting their work.

2. Unreasonable expectations of creators.

I feel like some people here forget that the creators here are people too.

It's kind of annoying and disheartening.

And the "expectations" I'm talking about isn't like--- people expecting people to push out content like machines, it's not that-

It's the "This doesn't cater to me, i don't like this [character/ship/whatever] therefore it is bad, and I'm gonna make you feel bad about it.

I see this sentiment a lot when it comes to a particular pair of characters--- not gonna name names. But if you know you know.

These characters aren't the best in the series. They present as dislikable, yes. But nonetheless they are someone's favorite (and that someone is my friend)

This fanartist draws wholesome art of their faves interacting as a couple only to get vagued about for not presenting the characters with more nuance.

And it's SO painfully obvious whenever this conversation comes up that it's about them n their art bc they are like known as the fanartist for these characters—

And it's just so... Disheartening to see.

And no one challenges this view point, and it's just an echo chamber of "YEA!!! If you draw this character you gotta draw them right!!!"

And lately I've been seeing the same sentiment for Ignacio, and I can't say definitively if it's something that's meant to be directed at me, but either way it sucks.

So as a creator I wanna address this type of thing head on.

Fanartists/fanfic writers/whoever is not obligated to provide you with "nuance."

I mean good God. I kind of understand the hatred and the sentiment, these characters are implied to be not good to their child, right? So when confronted with this character— especially if you're a fan of the character they're victimizing— you might be compelled to go "this is bad!!! This is unrealistic!!! Provide nuance!!! Blah blah"

But remember, this creator is a person too.

There are a lot of creators who will make realistic/more canon based "nuanced" depictions of this character—

But if there's a person who isn't interested in that and they just wanna draw their faves being happy or lovey dovey, what's the problem with that? Do you really think shoving canon and your dislike of the character down their throat, will do anything?

Can you just think for a second?

Like okay.

The character has done some bad shit. But do you really think that drawing that character being abusive is gonna be fucking fun??? For some people, I'm sure it is. There are some enjoyers of dark content who wanna provide that level of depth. But there are also... Some who don't!!! There are also people who wanna draw their faves being happy!!!

But then, there's the earlier point of "If you make something too dark you'll be called gross" LIKE

WHAT DO YOU WAAANNNNT???

And the idea that there's a "right" way to draw or write a character is so stifling. And if you don't fit within that you get shit on.

ok next point.

Just find an interpretation you do like and leave the other people alone. And if you can't do that, don't interact with that content and go about your day.

It's so simple.

3. People shoving canon down your throat.

There's not much to say on this point I don't think.

But some people forget that headcanons and aus exist and that fanartist and fanfic writers are not the fucking show writers

Some of y'all act like you don't know what the fuck fanon is.

Let people have different interpretations and depictions of characters. The canon isn't fucking going anywhere.

If you see something you don't like? Move along, or block, whatever. Just stop with the constant "but it doesn't make sense!!!" Within someone's headcanons and story it might.

If you don't like someone's interpretation of a character, it's fine. But just. Leave people be.

(I got an ask recently about my Dadnacio au asking to explain it— this is NOT about that, that person was respectful and genuinely curious. I'm talking about in general and what I've seen. That person was fine)

4. The vagueing

Do I need to explain?

I thought this community was really more mature but apparently it isn't.

Nothing could prepare me for the amount of vaguing that would happen here.

Y'all— the creators you're refraining from name dropping but still venting about be seeing the shit!!! And it doesn't do anything but make people feel bad like holy shit!

All it serves to do is make the environment uncomfortable and hostile.

All you do is make not only that creator but other creators scared to post anything.

I can't silence anyone and I don't intend to— nothing I can do but Jesus it's just— omg.

4. Shipping wars

Need I say more?

If there's a ship you don't like between two consenting non related adults, scroll past, or block the tag, and mmmmoooOOOOOOOVE the fuck along.

It's insane.

If your ship isn't popular, or has an age gap (A LEGAL ONE, MIND YOU) you are genuinely at risk of getting hate and even losing friends or mutuals. It's ridiculous.

R i d i c u l o u s.

Also, this may be an unpopular opinion, but—

If there's a toxic ship, as long as it doesn't romanticize the toxic parts of it— who gives a shit.

Some people like to write darker themes, but again it seems like that's a goddamn crime in this fandom,,,

Aaaand.

I think that's about it.

All in all, this fandom, while it has its good parts...

I'm sorry, I gotta cut the shit and stop sugarcoating it—

It's TOXIC AS FUCK HERE.

I'm sorry!!! I had to say it!!!

Yeah, I'm a sensitive person, I say it in my pinned post.

But in all my years of living, with all the fandoms I've been in.

This is by far, no fucking joke. THE WORST ONE.

I'm so deadass.

And I've been in the FNAF fandom as a kid at its peak! I was in the Danganronpa fandom, FnF! And SOOO many more in-between!!! You should see the mile long yet some how in complete fandom list on my hyperfixation blog like I'm so deadass right noe. But no. This is the worst one. /Srs /gen

How did you MANAGE? How is this one, the lighthearted turned mysterious cartoon about 2 spooky kids manage to be the most vitriolic that I've seen in all my years?!

And if it's like this on Tumblr I shudder to think wtf Twitter is like.

And all this and then people will eventually start to wonder why tf the fandom is getting bone dry— lemme tell you—

Instead of catering your own fandom experience and saying "live and let live" it's like the first instinct when people see something they don't like is just hostility! And it's so immature!

IT'S CAUSE PEOPLE ARE SCARED TO POST HERE!!!

And it's not just me either!!!!!

I'm probably more openly affected because again, I'm sensitive, I have horrible anxiety, yada yada, but it's not just me, and that's really sad.

But anyway.

Yeah that's it.

Despite all my grievances, please know that I love you guys. You all who have shown me support and love, you mean the world to me, and if I don't end up returning, please know I'll never forget you.

Bye , 🫂💖💞🫶🏾

[secret-smut-sideblog]

Like Real People Do

Halsin x F! Tav

18+ hurt/comfort, tenderness, implied trauma, oral (f!), face riding, fingering (f!), pants cumming (m!), a little shadowheart love at the end. as a treat!

Since fleeing the vampire lord's grasp Tav is settling into a peace she has not known for years. And finds she has a large welcome guest in her perfect exile...

Part 1, Part 2

-

Laying on her back in the grass she felt... happy. Content. A rediscovered feeling since her escape from his grip. The first gusts of night air tickling her face.

The Selune outpost had become her sanctuary, though she was still hesitant about worship. Seen too many messy gods in the flesh to put her faith in them, killed a few too.

In the weeks she had been there she had gotten stronger, her figure filling back out some. Her face a little less haunted. Even her laugh regaining its power. The life slowly dripping back into her.

Even getting closer to the worshippers, all of them recognizing her and waving hello. Of course they still didn't know who she was, her appearance quite different from the days of defending The Gate, and honestly it worked in her favor.

Of course Shadowheart had been with her every step of the way. Holding her on nights she woke shaking. Encouraged her to eat, bringing her the best fruit, a bowl filled to the brim with stew. Cheered her on as she managed her first few pull-ups in years on a tree outside.

Sitting up to breathe in the heady scent of the orchard, she heard a thud behind her. Turning to see warm hazel eyes filled to the brim with adoration, pack dropped in the grass.

"Tav!" Halsin exclaimed, rushing to her. Scooping her up so easily around her thighs. Holding her up high, close to the heavens.

His face split in a joyful smile as he spun her in a circle.

"Easy!" She laughed, his joy infectious. "You're going to make me dizzy!" As if she wasn't already, her heart lit up like a firework.

A few new scars peppered his face, but he still looked good. Really good.

"Your hair!" Tav marveled, taking a lock in her fingers. "It's long!"

Reaching below his clavicle, the chestnut tresses still deftly braided here and there.

"As is yours!" He smiled, gently pulling her long braid over her shoulder. "Impressive!"

She tried to hide the slight discomfort in her eyes. Her hair still something she hadn't processed yet.

"I'm sorry Tav," Seeing the strain in her face he released her braid, the end swinging back down to the base of her spine. His arm still holding aloft. All soft love in his eyes. "I've been so excited to see you I've forgotten myself."

She knew that he knew there was more to her discomfort, but appreciated the out.

"Oak Father preserve me, you are so beautiful. Memories didnt do you justice." One hand cupping her cheek, arm still supporting her around her thighs.

"Oh Gods, you're already going to make me cry." Tav laughed truthfully, biting her lip. "And you're going to have to put me down eventually."

"Allow me some more, please." He laughed, releasing her far down enough that she could wrap her legs around his middle. "My journey has been long and I've been nearly mad with the thought of drinking you in again."

Gods she missed the deep rumble of his voice, a bow pulled across cello strings. Sending tingles down the back of her skull.

She naturally rested her head on his chest, sighing contently. So warm.

"Please take me inside Halsin."

Laying back in a hot bath she melted under his touch. Strong hands massaging her scalp. The air heavy with lavender, rosemary.

It was almost overwhelming, being showered with so much care. After so long of being nothing but a prized posession to feel so loved was nearly too much.

Aware that she was softly crying again Tav chastised herself. Just be here, be with him.

"Would you like me to stop?" Halsin asked gently, hands slowing.

"No, you're perfect." She sighed, closing her eyes again. "I'm just... not used to this anymore. Being treated so well."

He cupped the back of her head, coming around to look in her eyes. "Did he hurt you?"

"Not physically." She winced slightly, not entirely truthful. Flashes of pale hands. Rough. Taking. "I was looked after. Oh he had endless servants to cater to me but there was only possession there, not care. Not love. I couldn't go anywhere without his approval." She laughed coldly. "Couldn't even decide what I wore. I was a glorified doll. One that he would fuck on the side. Just a thing to be paraded around. To do with as he pleases." She blinked, all of it pouring venomous from her.

"Is this...?" He trailed off, lifting her hair from the back of the tub.

"Yes," She sighed bitterly. "He liked it long."

He circled back behind her, braiding it in strong sure strokes. Kissing each tip of her ears.

She leaned back, suddenly so tired again. Would she ever be truly free of him? Would he haunt her body forever?

A sound of cutting jolted her eyes open. A weight pulling away from her head.

She turned as Halsin held a length of braid in his hand. Nearly a meter of it. The remaining falling gently onto the backs of her shoulder blades.

"Halsin!" She gasped, wide eyed.

"He cannot have you anymore." He said, voice barely above a snarl. Eyes glowing gold faintly.

She stared at him in shock.

Rising out of the tub she held both sides of his face roughly and caught his mouth in hers.

His hand gripping her hip, other tangled in her newly free hair he kissed back with restraint. A low growl reverberating from his chest.

Looping her arms around his neck she stood to go to him. He hooked under her thighs and lifted her out easily, not breaking their hold on eachother.

"Oh I'm getting you all wet." She blushed.

"Small price to pay." He chuckled, laying her down on the bed. Pulling the damp tunic off his wide shoulders.

She looked up at him, a thrill in her chest. Gods she had forgotten that he looked like that.

Tav was not a small person, tall, usually quite curvy and muscular. Filling out her clothes in several ways. Though the dark years had thinned her out significantly she was still not a waifish little thing.

But beside him? She was dwarfed. Still a whole head taller than her and twice as wide.

Crawling down to her he trailed warm up to her neck. Mouth devotional on the soft flesh.

She moaned softly, head falling back. Hands wrapping around his shoulders. Spreading her legs to make room for him between.

His calloused hands explored gently, around her hips, her waist. Up the outer side of her thigh. The touch lighting her up, leaving trails of need on her skin.

He was all slow, savoring. The pace making an ache in her pelvis. Driving her mad.

A soft growl in the back of his throat as she scratched lightly at his scalp. Saw his eyes pull closed. A shiver going down his back.

"Is this okay?" She asked softly. Is it okay that I'm broken goods? That I cant love you like you deserve?

"More than okay. Tav you bless me just being in my presence." He smiled, coming up to look in her eyes. Hand cradling the back of her head. "I'm the luckiest man in Faerun to share a bed with you."

She blinked at him, his sweet words so genuine they stung. Wanted to rip herself into pieces and rearrange them into a person who was better at this.

"Careful with the tender words, I'm all sharp edges now." She tried to joke, swallowed at the lump in her throat.

"I dont scare that easily. You are not too much for me." Leaned in to kiss her reassurance. "On Silvanus I swear it."

She melted into his kiss, eyes closing wet before the tears could escape.

"Please touch me Halsin." She urged against him, moving his wide hand to her breast.

He rumbled his approval, moving his warm mouth to her throat. Kissing, pulling, biting. The soft flesh of her neck his domain.

Calloused fingers brushing against her peaks, making her hips squirm. Back and forth across the pads of his fingers.

The teasing touch making her throb, hips arching up into his. His hard length greeting her seeking.

She felt him shiver again, taking her wrists and pushing them in an arc above her head. Snaring them down in one hand.

His free hand pushing down her front, their eyes meeting as he pressed fingers against her hard mound.

She groaned, eyelids lowering but never leaving his.

"Tell me what you want Tav." He urged lowly, fingers swirling slow sure circles. "Where you need me."

She paused. So long since she had been considered. What did she want?

"Put me on my stomach." She whispered. Shocked at her own words, how sure they tumbled out.

He hooked under her hips and easily flipped her, her shocked giggle eliciting a smile from him.

"Hips up." She grinned into the sheets. She felt comfortable, safe with him. A lightness in her chest under the waves of lust.

His arm pulling up on her hips, gripping her ass briefly. Groaning at the soft round flesh pushing between his fingers.

"Go down on me, please." She hushed. Being so direct making her blush.

"Oh yes," He rumbled, clearly more than pleased to fulfill her request.

His mouth met her cunt, licking hot stripes up her center. She choked out a moan. Hands gripping the sheets under her.

His tongue moving in flat dragging strokes, briefly pushing down into her entrance as he passed it.

Her hips already quaking, toes curling. "Ugh, that's so good." She groaned. Pushing back into his mouth.

He rumbled his pleasure deep in his throat, the reverberations against her making her shudder.

Licking tear drop around her clit, coming down to suckle it into his mouth, tongue pulsing.

She almost collapsed, seeing stars. A near indignant whimper leaving her lips.

He was suddenly gone from her and she looked down, dazed.

He had flipped onto his back, long hair splayed halo around him. Jaw coated in her wetness, his eyes flashed up to hers. Pulling encouragement on her thighs towards his parted lips. Pupils slitted, glowing bright gold.

She needed no further prompting, her thighs releasing to his strong hands.

His mouth pulling her in again, now fully devoted to her clit. Suckling and licking hard and insistent. Hand coming up to push inside her above him. Only two but already filling her to the brim, pulsing hooked fingers.

"Oh Gods," She whimpered, the arousal in her pelvis so full it ached. Both his tongue and fingers almost too much. Her hips moving in time with his worship.

She thought she would go mad, a mewling mess. All decorum gone as the pleasure overwhelmed her. Lewd begging moans muffled into the sheets her face was buried in.

He groaned hard into her, the deep sound unfairly pushing her to near edge.

"Fuck, I'm almost-" She warned, the ache pushing into itself, her limbs hot.

As if the his snarl of approval wasnt enough, his hand snapping down on her ass was overkill. The crack of it on the air joining the indecent sounds of his hungry mouth.

She pulled her arms into her body, white knuckled around the sheets, her orgasm hitting her in great violent jolts. Ripping through her, taloned and merciless. She screamed out muffled incoherent pleas into the mattress. His tongue laving up the cum that pushed thick out of her, clearly pleased with his reward, sighing hungrily into her.

Her body tremored rhythmically to his motions, little gasps leaving her in time.

He slid up over her, cradling her back to his wide chest. "Come here to me." He rumbled, pulling her to fall back onto his chest. Laying them down together.

She fell dumb into him, limbs puddled. Still trying to catch her breath. Eyelids fluttering.

"You didnt," She started weakly, gasped words catching. "We didn't get to you..."

He chuckled warmly, vibrating against her back. "No need, I already did."

She blinked, shocked. Focusing found it to be true, a wetness in his trousers.

"Oh," She marveled. Just her pleasure enough to send him over. Bit back a little proud smile.

"Oak Father sustain me, I dont know how I didn't wild shape." He admonished, gently pulling her hair behind her hair.

Her hair. She took a lock in her fingers, staring down at it.

"Tav I'm sorry I did that without consulting you." He sighed, gentle regret pulling in his deep tone.

"No," She stared, awestruck. "No I love it." Craning her neck to look up at him. "I'll think of you when I see it now. Thank you."

His eyes shone with tears, cupping her face. "You honor me." Pushing a soft kiss into her hairline.

"Hey, no crying." She whispered. Turning to press her head into his chest, letting her weight onto him. His hand threading into hers, secure. "Only I get to be a mess, okay?"

He laughed, his heart steady against her ear. A tranquil drum. Pulling her down, her eyes heavy.

"Can you stay? I dont want to be alone tonight." She whispered, eyes closing. Already drifting. Barely hearing his answer.

"I would want for nothing more, my heart."

Standing quiet at the base of a great tree, Shadowheart slid her hand into hers. Both staring down at the mound of small dirt. The night air chirping with insect song.

"I'll admit it," Shadowheart sighed, defeated. "I dont know what rites to speak at a hair funeral."

Tav smiled, squeezing her hand.

"Here we stand to honor the death of Luscious Locks..." Tav started, tone dour.

"Gone but not forgotten." Shadowheart nodded. "They will be released to the great comb in the sky."

Tav laughed. Knocking her head gently into her silver hair.

Great hands sliding over her waist. "Have I missed the reading of the will?"

She leaned back into him smiling, sighed softly at his all encompassing warmth. "Bad news, you didnt inherit anything. Sorry big guy."

He chuckled, planting a quick kiss on the crown of her head.

"You sure we cant talk you into staying another night?" Shadowheart offered, smiling warmly at him.

"Ah dont tempt me, I've already been selfish staying so long. They need me back home, someone's got to read the children their bedtime stories."

"You'll never hear the end of it, I'm sure." Tav teased, turning to hug him tightly. Burying her face in his chest.

"Thank you." She murmured. "For coming, for being here."

"Oh my heart, knowing you are safe here with us again. That will sustain me for quite some time. I'd love for you to visit some day, if you'd allow me some more of your company." His arms around her so steady and perfect she didn't know if she'd have the strength to pull away. She nodded into him.

"Can I kiss you?" He asked low, hand cupping her cheek.

"Mmm okay, just one for the road." She smiled, standing up on toes.

"Of course." He smiled, lips sliding against hers. All smothered fire and longing. A deep hum in his chest.

Pulling away too soon he rested his forehead against hers. Staring deep into her. His love pouring in.

Leaning back with a sigh.

"And you," He boomed, grabbing the back of Shadowheart's neck and planting a strong kiss on her forehead. "Take care of yourself! Of eachother, nothing is more precious."

Shadowheart squeaked, blushing. Tav throwing her a cheeky smile.

Hitching his pack up his shoulders he trailed one more kiss on her knuckles and turned to leave. Waving goodbye good naturedly at the worshippers pretending not to eavesdrop from their windows.

Shadowheart tutted her disapproval, eyes squinting judgment. "So nosy, all of them."

Tav smiled, watching him leave fondly. Turning back to her. "Oh let them have their fun. It can get awful boring around here."

She mock scoffed, hand to chest. "Oh is watching me pray for hours not stimulating enough for you? I'm hurt."

"Well the view is never bad." Tav shrugged, giggling as Shadowheart's hand shot out to pinch her side.

Tav darted around, her agile arms nearly catching her.

"No!" Shadowheart shrieked, laughing loudly. Running down the small ravine, Tav giving chase.

She laughed, breathless. Watching her silver hair bob in front of her. Catching her around the waist in a patch of undergrowth. Both tumbling laughing into the soft ground. Limbs tangled.

Tav kissed her softly, hand cradling her cheek. Shadowheart's gentle moan licking against her lips.

"I think," Tav started, pulling away. "I think I'm happy again." A soft wonder in her voice.

Shadowheart smiled up at her, eyes bright with tears. "And you even got a free haircut."

Tav laughed. "Actually, I think I want to shave the side." She mused, smoothing fingers along her temple. Gaze sliding to her green eyes, mischievous. "Wanna help?"

"Oh yes." Shadowheart's eyes alight, devilish.

"But first. Tell me everything."

~

Part 4

[chimcess]

→ Chapter Ten: The Beyond Pairing: Jimin x Reader Other tags: Werewolf!Jimin, Witch!Reader, Shifter!Reader, Shifter!Jimin, A/B/O Dynamics, Alpha!Jimin Genre: Supernatural!AU, Werewolf!AU, Angst, Mutual Pining, Fluff, Smut, Word Count: 9.3k+ Synopsis: Within the four realms of Lustra lay the Bangtan forest home to the Foxglove pack of the south and known as the “land of magic.” It is also home to the Bridd, a powerful witch from a cursed bloodline who is one of the sacred guardians of the forest. Y/N is the newest Bridd, a young girl who was given her position too early. Now a woman, Y/N is revered amongst the wolves as the most powerful witch they have ever known, but hiding under the surface is a woman who has to battle between her duty and her heart. Warnings: ANGST, strong language, PTSD, flashbacks, self-hate, self-depreciation, death, fighting, blood, cursing, new character alert, we have so many characters already i'm so sorry, mauling of an elf, mind reader witch, Clarcton is pretty lame, drinking, drunkenness, nightmares, bonding, missing child (it's not that bad), fear, paranoia, insecurities, regret, guilt, shame, let me know if i've missed anything A/N: We're officially 1/3 of the way through our "little" story. Sorry it's been so long between updates. I've been working on so many things as the same time that TTW got placed on the backburner for a bit. Thanks for reading!

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I never expected Clarcton to be so plain. As a girl, I used to dream about escaping the swamp, imagining a world beyond my responsibilities—a world full of beauty and freedom. But standing in the little village’s town square, those daydreams evaporated like morning mist.

Stover, the tiniest town in Clarcton, was quaint and small, with cobblestone streets and wooden cottages that seemed to lean on each other for support. The townspeople moved with the kind of slow, deliberate pace that comes from a life untroubled by haste. Their eyes lingered on me, and I could feel their curiosity as they assessed the stranger in their midst. I stood out just by being different, my scars a map of battles they couldn’t fathom.

Through a day of shopping, I learned that Stover rarely saw travelers. The elves invading the northern tip had made the locals wary, and I could hear their whispers about my scars. Ignoring them wasn’t easy, but I’d be gone tomorrow. The market was a small square, stalls offering modest wares—fresh produce, simple cloth, handcrafted trinkets. Each vendor seemed to eye me with a mix of suspicion and pity.

Northorn still held strong, its capital unfallen. King Edward had called for aid from Whopping, a fishing town on the east coast. The wolves of Viridi Gramine had decided not to help the humans, heading instead to Bangtan to protect their princess. Hearing the townsfolk speak ill of Hyuna made my stomach churn. These people were ignorant, jumping to conclusions like humans always did since the Sarkans first landed in Lustra.

Starving, I dropped off my supplies and set out for food. Hannah, a kind woman who ran the inn, had pointed me to a tavern that promised a decent meal. However, I was low on money and too frightened to barter. Drawing attention could be dangerous, especially after hearing rumors of elves in town. I’d hidden in shops, body tense, the sight of white hair sending chills down my spine.

Elves all looked the same—pale, white-haired, with amethyst eyes. This party had no women, and when I asked the tailor, he explained that their kind had a queendom where men were lesser beings. These elves were young and inexperienced, sent to weaken before the real conquerors arrived. The tailor believed Lustra would fall when the second wave came.

The tavern buzzed with an overwhelming clamor. Inside, the air was thick with the scent of ale and sweat, and it was clear that I was the only human present. The elves, their pale faces flushed with drink, were loud and rowdy, their laughter grating on my ears. Ale sloshed over the edges of their mugs, splattering the wooden floor. Keeping my head down, I approached the bar and ordered soup and ale, deciding it was safer to stay than to risk attracting attention by leaving too soon.

Finding a corner table, I settled in, hoping to blend into the shadows. The warmth of the tavern was a stark contrast to the chill outside, but it did little to soothe my nerves. As I waited for my meal, snippets of conversation drifted to me. The elves boasted of their exploits, their voices dripping with arrogance. They spoke of battles and conquests, their laughter tinged with cruelty. Each word stoked the fire of my hatred, but I kept my face impassive, my gaze fixed on the table in front of me.

When the tavern maid brought my soup and ale, I thanked her quietly, avoiding eye contact. The soup was hearty, its warmth spreading through my body with each spoonful. The ale, though bitter, helped to steady my nerves. I ate slowly, trying to make the meal last as long as possible.

As I ate, a group of elves at a nearby table grew louder, their taunts more pointed. They spoke about the humans they had encountered, their words laced with contempt. One of them, a particularly burly elf with a scar running down his cheek, caught my eye and sneered. “Look at that one,” he said loudly, gesturing towards me. “Thinks she can hide among us.”

The others laughed, and I forced myself to remain calm, taking another sip of my ale. The burly elf stood, his steps unsteady, and made his way over to my table. “What’s your name, human?” he demanded, leaning in close, the stench of alcohol on his breath.

I looked up, meeting his gaze with as much defiance as I could muster. “None of your business,” I replied evenly.

His sneer widened, and he reached out, grabbing my arm. “Feisty one, aren’t you? I like that.” He pulled me to my feet, and I could feel the eyes of the entire tavern on us. The room had fallen silent, the tension palpable.

The elf’s grip tightened, and I winced, but refused to show fear. “Let go of me,” I said through gritted teeth.

“Or what?” he taunted, pulling me closer. “You’ll make me?”

Before I could react, a flash of movement caught my eye. Another elf, smaller and quicker, appeared beside the burly one. “Enough, Dalion,” he said, his voice low and dangerous. “Leave her be.”

Dalion hesitated, his grip loosening slightly. “Why? She’s just a human.”

“Because I said so,” the other elf replied, his tone brooking no argument. “We don’t need any more trouble.”

With a grunt, Dalion released me, shoving me back into my chair. “Fine,” he muttered, glaring at me one last time before returning to his table. The smaller elf gave me a brief nod before following.

I took a shaky breath, my heart pounding. The tavern slowly returned to its previous state, the noise level rising once more. I finished my meal quickly, eager to leave and find some semblance of safety. As I paid for my food, I noticed the smaller elf watching me, his expression unreadable. I decided to go to the bar and finish my night there.

At the bar, a hooded figure sipped clear liquor, the sharp smell cutting through the tavern's haze. The bartender, his eyes darting between me and the elves, asked where I was from.

"Leeside," I lied, knowing he saw through it but didn’t call me out. He knew my destination and that Leeside was big enough to hide in. "Just passing through."

He nodded, wiping the bar. The elves were bothering a drunk old man for money, out of coins and still thirsty.

"Heard about Azamar?" the bartender asked.

I nodded, taking a bite. "Hot. Too bad, I’ve heard it’s nice this time of year."

The hooded figure shifted, drawing my instinctive gaze. Her teeth were too large, canines sharp, and one incisor framed in gold—a mark of an assassin from Whopping, according to Hoseok.

"The plains are worse," she said, her voice rough but feminine. "Hard to see anything if you go that far south."

"The northern tip isn’t too bad," I replied without thinking. "I came in through that way."

"Interesting."

She knew I was lying. Keeping my fear in check, I ate. The bartender offered another bowl on the house, which I accepted, knowing hot meals would be scarce. The elves grew louder, and I wanted to leave. Tomorrow, I’d memorize the maps Sam packed.

"Hey! You!"

I closed my eyes, feeling their gaze. They spoke a bastardized Lustrian, discussing my potential in bed and survival odds. I resisted the urge to respond, knowing a fight would expose me. Humans feared magic, as Aldara always said.

"Girl," another elf slurred, "give me some money. I need another drink."

The bartender, catching on, turned his back. I took a deep breath, trying to stay calm. He knew I understood them. I was obviously not an elf, so the options were shifter or witch—either one could spell trouble if the bartender exposed me out of ignorance.

"I’m talking to you, bicce."

My eye twitched. The bartender noticed, realization dawning. He turned away, leaving me to fend for myself.

Fortunately, he didn't look disgusted by me. His face remained remarkably neutral as he returned with a refill. He carefully placed a napkin on the bar before setting down the glass. I glanced at him, then at the woman out of the corner of my eye. She was tense, her head inclined towards me, her eyes hidden but clearly watching me as closely as the elves were. They were louder now, frustrated by my lack of response. I picked up my glass and read the smudged writing on the napkin.

"I'm Vern."

I took a sip, nodding, keeping my face impassive. Quietly, I ordered another drink, placing a copper coin on the bar, and pointed at the group with my thumb. I didn’t care what they wanted, but I hoped Vern wouldn’t provoke them. With great care, I picked up the napkin.

Crumpling it in my hand, I muttered under my breath, wiping it against my lips before placing it back on the bar. I went back to eating. Vern brought the elf his drink, and their angry taunts stopped. The one who called me a bitch thanked me in a condescending tone. I wanted to tear him apart, but instead, I drank my ale and ate my vegetable soup.

Vern came back, picking up my napkin and walking over to the trash can behind the bar. The traveler next to me was still staring, and I knew she knew what had happened. They both had their secrets. She stayed hidden beneath her cloak, while Vern saw too much. Both of them were searching for something, but I couldn’t tell you what. I did know, however, that lying would only make me look worse. I had given him my first name and hoped that would satisfy his curiosity.

Another napkin appeared in front of me. Vern was wiping down glasses, back turned, and I was sure no one except the three of us understood what was going on. I glanced down.

"Moland. Etta Ketchens’ son."

So, there was another witch around. Moland was the original land of magic. All witches alive today descended from those who first discovered it in the swamps. Bangtan stole the title after witches began making deals with the ielfen. Their world was linked to the spirit realm, and the monsters that lived there were difficult to manage, so they sent them to the forests. The witches were strong enough to keep them away, but the creatures found refuge in Bangtan.

Anyone from Moland had magic, and I had heard of Etta from Thelma. She was from the northeast. I had never met her, but she was known for playing music and throwing great parties. Trusting Vern became easier. We were in the same boat, and witches liked to stick together. At the very least, I knew I had backup if it came down to a fight.

"Bangtan. Thelma Richard’s niece."

He nodded, his eyes wandering to the woman at the end of the bar. She hadn’t taken her eyes off us since the written exchange began. Her eyes seemed to glow within the darkness that surrounded her face, boring into me, waiting for something. Feeling exposed, I stood. It was time to leave. I had done what I came here to do, and the elves were starting to badger people for money again.

Vern shook his head and glanced down at my seat, giving me pause. Gaze turning to the woman, she shrugged and shook her head in agreement. I had no reason to trust either of them, but I had a feeling in my gut. Even if we wouldn’t normally help each other, right now, we had a common enemy. The enemy of my enemy is my friend. Aldara would say I should listen before reacting. So, when the woman offered to buy me another drink, I sat back down.

“They’re planning on following you home,” Vern murmured, placing a glass in front of me.

“How do you know that?”

“I’m gifted. You could say I specialize in mind magic.”

Stiffening, I eyed him with new wariness. That’s how he knew I was lying; he could hear my thoughts. Vern nodded, answering my unasked question.

“I’m not concentrating on you,” he clarified. “I’m trying to watch them. I’m just picking up bits and pieces of everyone else. She’s��” He looked at the woman, “—not human either. She’s trying to decide if she should accompany you. You’re both going east.”

The elves were back to insulting me for another drink. I gritted my teeth, my anger and frustration bubbling over. I’d always been a hothead, but my emotions felt so volatile now. I hated them. I hated everything they stood for. Cordelia’s dead body flashed in my mind, and Vern couldn’t hide the horror on his face.

“Bicce!”

Beside me, the woman turned her attention to the elves.

“Don’t speak to her like that,” she growled.

Their group stopped their taunts, a thick, tense silence falling over the bar. Tensing, I prepared to defend her. She didn’t need to take up for me, but my hatred made the decision easy. I wanted to kill them all.

The elf scoffed in disbelief. Vern’s eyes widened in horror, and he reached out towards the hooded woman. I knew what was coming, and instead of waiting, I took action.

I’d always been a loose cannon, but these last few days had made me feel more unhinged than ever. Anger, sorrow, and hatred coiled tightly in my stomach, driving me insane. The nightmares. The heartache. Yoongi’s blank stare. Cordelia’s lifeless body in the flames. Jimin’s anguish. Sol’s betrayal. All of it consumed me, and for once, I didn’t try to stomp the flames out.

“Swígan!” I shouted, turning to face the elves. I had reached my limit. Knowing I had at least one other witch on my side, I felt emboldened. “Mieltan.”

The iron ring on my finger melted, searing my skin, but I hardly registered the burn. I shot the melted iron like a rocket, stabbing the elf who disrespected me through the chest. Dalion couldn’t scream. When I retracted the metal, there was a hole so large I could see through his body. The other three stared, mouths agape, before turning on me. The dead one fell to the floor with a thud.

The remaining elves rushed at me, their movements fluid and unnervingly synchronized. I didn’t hesitate. The iron ring, now a molten band around my finger, reshaped itself into a thin, sharp blade. I slashed at the closest elf, the blade slicing clean through his raised arm. Blue blood sprayed, and his scream was a piercing wail.

I spun, my instincts sharpened by adrenaline, and kicked another elf, the one who had defended me earlier, square in the chest, sending him crashing into a table. Wood splintered under his weight, and the patrons near him scrambled to get away. The third elf tried to grab me from behind, but I twisted, using the momentum to elbow him hard in the face. His nose crunched, blood spurting as he staggered back, clutching his face.

The elf with the severed arm was still screaming, trying to cast a spell with his remaining hand. I didn’t give him the chance. I lunged, driving the blade into his throat. His eyes widened, a gurgle escaping as he collapsed.

The elf I had kicked was back on his feet, rage contorting his features. He muttered an incantation, and I felt a wave of energy pulse towards me. Instinctively, I threw up a shield, the air crackling with the force of our opposing magics. My shield held, but I could feel the strain. I couldn’t let him overpower me. With a snarl, I pushed back, my magic flaring, and the shield exploded outward, knocking him off his feet.

Vern had been right about the woman. She was a shifter, and now her cloak had fallen away, revealing her true form. She was massive, her muscles rippling under her skin and a pair of black ears poked through her long, black hair. She let out a roar, leaping into the fray with a ferocity that matched my own. She tackled the elf who had been behind me, her nails elongating into claws that raked across his chest. He shrieked, trying to fend her off, but she was relentless, tearing into him with a savage precision.

The elf I had knocked down was getting back up, and I moved to intercept him. He cast another spell, a bolt of energy shooting towards me. I dodged, the bolt sizzling past my ear and scorching the wall behind me. I retaliated with a burst of fire, the flames engulfing him. He screamed, thrashing as the fire consumed him, and then he was silent, his charred body crumpling to the floor.

The last elf was still alive, barely. He was pinned under the woman, her claws at his throat. He looked up at me, eyes wide with fear. I walked over, the molten blade in my hand dripping with blue blood. I knelt down, meeting his gaze.

“You should have left me alone,” I said softly, before driving the blade into his heart.

The bar was silent now, the only sounds the crackling of the flames and the labored breathing of the survivors. The humans who were coherent enough to watch the altercation fled the bar screaming while the others were too drunk to care. I still had energy to burn, shaking with the force of my emotions. Too quickly. I wanted more time with them. I wanted to kill them again and again. I wanted to earn their hatred. I wanted—

“What’s your name?”

I looked at the hooded woman. Her face was covered in blood, and she smiled crookedly. She had deep, pitted dimples, and pieces of jewelry shone inside them.

"Y/N," I replied, keeping my voice steady.

"Lily," she said, giving me a small bow before standing up. Her muscles bulged and twitched with each movement, almost as tall as Jimin. Her hands were adorned with intricate tattoos, and her nails were a vivid ruby red. "Would you mind some company during your travels?"

"Do you know your way through Ozryn?" I asked, eyeing her warily.

She nodded. "I'm from Idris. I'm meeting some friends in the mountains."

Despite my earlier reluctance, this woman might be my only option for crossing the mountains safely. Assassin or not, she was offering her services, and my violent display earlier should deter any funny business. She might beat me in a physical fight, but I had magic on my side, fueled by enough emotional turmoil to last a lifetime. The fact that we were both shifters aided in my trust. We were both wanted citizens if the elves had anything to say about it, and her exposing herself made it hard to justify turning her away.

“You’re obviously a shifter,” I said, placing my remaining coins on the bar. Vern deserved the tip. He'd been an excellent server. "What are you?"

"Maned Wolf," she answered, already walking toward the bar exit. That meant she was half-wolf, half-fox. It would not surprise me if she was the last of her kind. "We should leave. Those humans have alerted the local police about your little... situation."

I looked at Vern, who was quick to agree with Lily’s plan. He would cover for us. Thanking him, I followed the huge woman out of the bar. She hadn't really answered my question, but given the circumstances, I let it slide. I had just murdered four people in a bar. I should have felt more shame, but I couldn't muster any. They killed Cordelia. They deserved it.

“We can collect your belongings from the inn and leave. Okay?”

I agreed. We moved quickly. No one was at the front desk when I entered, making sneaking upstairs a cakewalk. I threw my bag over my shoulder and grabbed the few personal items I had lying around. A deep sadness settled into my chest as I thought back to the fight. I hated flashbacks, but I was starting to realize there was something I disliked even more: myself.

I should have just left and minded my own business. That’s what Jimin would have done. A fight would be a last resort. Instead, I acted a fool for someone I didn’t even know, a woman whose face I couldn’t pick out in a lineup, who could easily have turned her back on me the moment I killed the first man. I didn’t stop to consider that someone else might have abandoned me back there. I was so used to being surrounded by people who loved me that hindsight was 20/20. This time, I had simply gotten lucky. If it had been anyone other than an elf I killed, they would have been disgusted by me. Hell, I felt disgusted by my actions.

Cordelia wouldn’t have been able to look me in the eye after a stunt like that.

Shaking myself out of my daze, I rushed back downstairs. Hannah was at the desk now, and three men wearing navy blue uniforms were crowding her. Quickly, I stopped and kept myself hidden in the shadows, body pressed against the wall as I listened in. They hadn’t heard my footsteps. Human ears were very weak.

“I told you I don’t have any witches staying here,” the human girl barked, clearly fed up with their interrogation. “The old man must have been confused. Vernon even said he was being ridiculous. Those elves were nowhere near the tavern.”

“Well, we can’t find them anywhere else, and it wasn’t just John. Betsy said she saw it happen as well.”

“Betsy?” Hannah drawled, placing her hands on her hips. “So you have a drunk and a schizophrenic's testimony? Have to say, Charles, I expected more from you.”

“Now Ms. Winslow—” one of the men attempted to speak, but Hannah flashed him a dark look. He quieted quickly.

“No,” she spoke in a bored, cold tone that reminded me of Yoongi. They even had the same unimpressed, irritated look. “The three of you came barging in here in the middle of the night, ranting and raving about a witch on the loose who, by the way, according to my records, does not exist. I don’t know where any of you got off waking me and my father at a time like this, but he’s far too sick to be dealing with this mess. So, either tell me a name I can work with or get the hell out. Your choice.”

I was impressed with the girl. She had to have known who they were searching for. I had suddenly popped up, and now you have four elves dead in a bar? Too coincidental. Still, she was covering for me, and I was grateful. It was a shame I was out of money.

“Sorry for your troubles, Hannah,” the man in the middle said, tipping his hat. “Hope Maurice feels better soon. We’ll go and ask Martha and Dawn about it. You could be right about the two kooks.”

I didn’t like the way they talked about John or Betsy. They might have been a bit odd, but they were not liars. I hoped their words wouldn’t get them into any trouble, at least not on my behalf. I’d much rather get arrested and escape than let anyone else get locked up. The policemen left, the wooden door slamming behind them.

“You can come out now.”

Walking the rest of the way down, I hoped my face conveyed how sorry I felt. I didn’t want anyone else inconvenienced because of me. Hannah, however, looked very happy. With a big smile, she greeted me. Lily crawled out from under the desk, hood still securely on, and patted the other girl’s head.

"Congratulations on winning your fight," the human drawled, dark hair tousled from just waking up.

"It's not something worth celebrating," I replied, handing my sack over to Lily when she held out her hand for it. "Thank you," I told the massive woman.

"You need a coat," the traveler demanded, her voice brooking no argument. "It's cold."

Opening my bag, she started digging around before finally landing on the cloak I bought this morning. It was heavy, lined in white fur, and beautifully handcrafted. The most expensive thing I bought next to the boots I was wearing. The outside of it had a beautiful ornate flower pattern spun in a delicate silver color, almost perfectly matching the shade of Jimin’s hair.

"This is nice," Lily commented absentmindedly, handing over the cloak. "Good purchase."

I tied it around my shoulders and charmed it like the rest of my clothes. Taking things on and off would take too much time in an emergency. Lily slung my bag over her shoulder like it weighed nothing, and I was glad to be rid of it. Flying would be easier without the annoyance of straps.

Then it hit me. I couldn't fly as quickly as I normally did. If I had a wolf hybrid traveling with me, I would need to travel in the only way she could. On foot. It was almost enough to make me second-guess bringing her along. Alas, I needed the extra hands, and a guide who knew the area was too good of a resource to flush down the drain. Traveling would take longer, but I would have a better chance at living through this.

"The best elves are the dead ones," Hannah yawned. "You should get going. They’re going to be looking for you all night. Vern cleaned up the mess already, so don’t worry about it. He sends his love."

I nodded. "Tell him if he wants to go back to Moland anytime soon, to stay east and travel down the Syrena River. Most of the witches are in Foxglove now. You both could find some protection there."

She smiled at me. "When my father is well enough for the journey, I’m positive that fool will be taking the two of us with him."

There was no mistaking the affection in her voice.

"You two…" I trailed off. "He loves you."

Thinking back to the moment she was brought up, I had not noticed the same tenderness in Vern’s voice. However, the fact that he had spoken to her about me in such great detail pointed to some sort of relationship. It being a romantic one made me unreasonably happy. They were both friends of mine, even if they did not see me in the same light. I was happy they were together. Witches and humans were not a typical pairing, but I could say the same about my own situation.

"Almost as much as I love him," she winked.

"We need to go," Lily gruffed, grabbing my arm. "I can hear them making their way back towards the inn," she frowned at Hannah. "They’re going to bother you for a little while. Sorry about the trouble."

"Like I said," she huffed, "You did everyone a favor. I don’t want to hear another word about it."

"Thank you," I told her. "For everything. Vern too."

"Go," she replied, shooing us away with her hands. "Go around the back. There’s a small nature reserve that stretches on for a few miles. Keep north before heading east. That should take you to Azamar Pass, but stay close to the volcano. They have encampments everywhere."

Azamar Pass was a small stretch of land connecting Lustra to the island where the Ula’re volcano rested. A large bridge connected it to Northorn and another to the land before the Ozryn mountains. It was likely the safest place for us to travel through despite the treacherous terrain. According to my maps, it was filled with hills and jagged cliffs that could kill you easily. Lily seemed confident enough, so I decided to follow her. She knew this place better than I ever did.

"I know the area well," Lily assured the girl. "We will be safe."

I had to trust she was telling the truth.

We slipped out the back, the night air biting through the fur-lined cloak. The reserve Hannah mentioned was darker than I expected, the thick canopy of trees blotting out the moonlight. We moved quickly, our breath fogging in the cold air. Lily led the way, her steps confident despite the uneven ground. I followed closely, every crunch of leaves underfoot setting my nerves on edge.

The silence between us stretched, only the sounds of our hurried steps and the occasional rustle of wildlife breaking it. My mind raced, replaying the events of the night. I had always been a hothead, but tonight felt different. It wasn't just anger that drove me, but a deeper, more consuming fury. Cordelia’s death had changed something in me, twisted a part of my soul that I wasn’t sure I could ever untangle.

"Are you alright?" Lily’s voice broke through my thoughts. She had stopped and was looking back at me, her eyes sharp even in the dim light.

"Yeah," I lied, not trusting myself to say more.

She studied me for a moment, then nodded. "We’re almost there. Azamar Pass is just beyond these woods."

I nodded, swallowing the lump in my throat. We continued on, the terrain growing steeper as we neared the pass. The ground beneath our feet turned rocky, the air heavy with the scent of sulfur. The volcano loomed in the distance, a dark silhouette against the night sky.

We reached the edge of the reserve and paused, taking in the sight before us. The pass was a narrow strip of land, flanked by jagged cliffs and treacherous drops. It was more daunting in person than it had seemed on my maps.

"Stay close," Lily warned, her voice low. "The winds can be brutal up here, and the paths are narrow."

We started across, the wind immediately whipping at our clothes and hair. I pulled my cloak tighter around me, every step a fight against the elements. Lily moved with the grace of someone who had done this a hundred times before, her large frame somehow slipping through the narrowest of paths with ease.

Halfway across, the ground trembled beneath our feet, a low rumble emanating from the volcano. I froze, fear clutching at my heart. Lily glanced back, her expression unreadable.

"Keep moving," she urged. "It’s just a tremor."

I forced myself to keep going, each step feeling like an eternity. The path seemed to go on forever, the cliffs on either side closing in like the jaws of some great beast. By the time we reached the other side, my legs were shaking and my lungs burned from the effort.

We collapsed on the ground, the safety of solid land a welcome relief. Lily pulled out a canteen and handed it to me. I took a grateful sip, the water cool and refreshing.

"Thank you," I said, my voice hoarse.

She nodded, wiping sweat from her brow. "We need to keep moving. There’s a cave not far from here where we can rest for the night."

We got to our feet and continued on, the landscape gradually shifting from rocky terrain to dense forest once more. The trees grew thicker, their branches intertwining overhead to form a natural canopy that blocked out most of the sky. The sounds of the forest began to surround us—the rustle of leaves, the distant calls of nocturnal creatures, and the occasional snap of a twig underfoot. The path ahead was narrow and winding, forcing us to move in single file, with Lily leading the way.

After what felt like hours, the cave Lily had mentioned came into view, a dark, yawning mouth in the side of a moss-covered hill. The entrance was partially hidden by overgrown vines and thick underbrush, making it almost invisible to the casual observer. We ducked inside, and the temperature dropped noticeably, the cool, damp air enveloping us like a shroud. The cave was surprisingly spacious, with a high ceiling that echoed our footsteps as we ventured further in.

Lily set down my bag and immediately began gathering kindling for a fire, her movements quick and efficient. I watched her as she worked, unable to shake the feeling that there was something otherworldly about her. Despite her petite frame, she moved with a precision and grace that spoke of years spent surviving in the wild. Her hands were steady and sure as she arranged the twigs and branches, and within minutes, she had a small fire crackling to life.

As the flames grew, casting flickering shadows on the cave walls, I couldn't help but study her more closely. Her face, illuminated by the firelight, seemed both young and ancient, with eyes that held secrets I couldn't begin to fathom. There was a quiet strength in her, a resilience that I envied.

"Why are you helping me?" I asked finally, breaking the silence that had settled between us.

She paused, looking up from her task, her eyes meeting mine with an intensity that made me shiver. "Because you need it," she said simply. "And because I’ve been where you are."

I frowned, not understanding. "Where I am?"

She nodded, her expression softening. "Lost. Angry. Searching for something you can’t quite name."

Her words hit closer to home than I cared to admit. I looked away, the weight of the night's events pressing down on me once more. The memories of the fire, the screams, and the feeling of helplessness washed over me, and I had to fight to keep my composure.

"You don’t have to do this alone," she continued, her voice gentle but firm. "Whatever it is you’re searching for, it’s out there. But you won’t find it by tearing yourself apart."

I didn’t know what to say, the truth of her words cutting through my defenses. For the first time in a long while, I felt a glimmer of hope. Perhaps she was right. Perhaps there was a way forward that didn’t involve self-destruction.

"Get some rest," she said, her tone softening even further. "We have a long journey ahead of us."

I nodded, lying down on the cool ground, using my bag as a makeshift pillow. The fire's warmth was comforting, and the sound of the crackling flames was soothing. As I closed my eyes, exhaustion finally overtaking me, I couldn't help but feel that maybe, just maybe, I wasn't as alone as I thought.

I couldn't see past the smoke. It was a roiling, black mass, punctuated by brilliant yellow flames that danced like demons in the night. Shiloh's voice cut through the chaos, a desperate cry reaching out through the suffocating darkness, pleading for me to return. Inside, the screams were a cacophony of terror and anguish, and I ran, my small feet pounding the earth as I shouted for Auntie. Shiloh's cries grew louder behind me, but I ignored her, driven by a singular need to reach the cottage. I had to get to Aldara.

The distance stretched endlessly, the screams crescendoed, and Shiloh's voice became an unbearable buzz in my ears. I was sobbing, calling Aldara's name, feeling the forest around me weep. The spirits that had once tormented me now seemed my only solace, and I crumpled to the ground. No matter how desperately I tried, the cottage remained out of reach. Then, from the corner of my eye, I saw it—a movement that made my breath catch.

There it was, not even ten yards away—a large, midnight-black wolf with eyes like burning coals. The firelight cast a grotesque glow on its face, revealing a blood-stained muzzle. In its mouth was an arm, the ring on it gleaming malevolently. Anger surged within me, turning my vision red as I focused on the ring—a skull etched in fiery orange and yellow. Before I could stop myself, I was chanting a spell, my voice echoing through the forest. Somewhere in the distance, a wolf howled in response.

The wolf dropped the arm and snarled, its eyes locked on mine. The air crackled with energy, the spell building inside me, threatening to tear me apart from the inside out. The wolf lunged, and I screamed, the spell bursting forth in a torrent of raw power. The ground shook, the trees groaned, and the wolf was thrown back, its body slamming into a tree with a sickening crunch.

I collapsed, the spell having drained every ounce of strength from my body. The forest fell silent, the only sound my ragged breathing. I crawled towards the cottage, my limbs trembling, my vision swimming. The smoke began to clear, and I could see the outline of the cottage through the haze.

Aldara lay on the ground, her body limp, her face pale. I reached her side, my hands shaking as I tried to rouse her. Her eyes fluttered open, and she looked at me, a weak smile playing on her lips.

"You did it," she whispered, her voice barely audible over the crackling flames. "You saved us."

I nodded, tears streaming down my face. The forest had fallen silent, the spirits watching us with a newfound respect. I had faced the darkness and emerged victorious, but at what cost?

As the first light of dawn broke through the trees, I held Aldara close, the weight of the night's events settling on my shoulders. The forest might have been our home, but it was also a place of danger and despair. And I knew, deep down, that this was only the beginning.

But then everything started to change. The flames flickered and became stars in a velvet sky. The trees twisted and turned, transforming into towering figures that whispered secrets in a language I couldn’t understand. Shiloh's voice turned into a soft lullaby, and the ground beneath me felt like the softest bed I had ever known.

Aldara’s form began to shimmer and fade, her features blurring as if she were being drawn away by an unseen hand. "You must go," she said, her voice echoing like a distant melody. "This world is not for you."

I tried to hold on to her, but my hands passed through her like smoke. The stars above began to swirl, forming a spiral that pulled me upwards, away from the forest, away from the cottage. I was weightless, floating, the screams and flames and shadows all fading into a soft, gentle darkness.

I awoke with a start, the remnants of the dream slipping away like shadows at dawn. The morning light streamed through the cave entrance, illuminating the damp stone walls and casting eerie shapes that danced in the corners of my vision. I lay there, struggling to piece together the fragments of a nightmare that felt all too real. But no matter how hard I tried, the details eluded me, leaving only a lingering sense of unease and the whisper of a name.

"You okay?" Lily's voice broke through the fog, soft yet insistent. I blinked, shaking off the last vestiges of the dream. The cool, damp air of the cave was a grounding contrast to the surreal horrors still echoing in my mind.

"Yeah," I replied, my voice hoarse. "Just a bad dream."

Lily studied me, her eyes narrowing slightly as if she could see through my flimsy facade. But she didn’t press the issue. Instead, she handed me a piece of bread and some dried fruit, which I accepted gratefully.

"We should get moving soon," she said, her tone matter-of-fact. "The sooner we leave, the better our chances of staying ahead."

I nodded, chewing slowly as my thoughts lingered on the dream, the name echoing like a distant drumbeat in my mind.

We packed up quickly, the remnants of the fire reduced to ashes that Lily expertly scattered with her foot. Outside, the forest was waking up, the early morning light filtering through the leaves and casting a soft, golden glow on everything. Birds chirped, and small creatures rustled in the underbrush, weaving a tapestry of normalcy that stood in stark contrast to the turmoil roiling inside me.

As we began to walk, the path ahead seemed clearer, more defined. It was as if the forest itself was guiding us, the trees parting just enough to show the way. I fell into step behind Lily, my thoughts drifting back to her words from the night before: lost, angry, searching for something you can't quite name.

"Can I ask you something?" I ventured after a while, breaking the silence.

"Sure," Lily replied, not turning around, her attention focused on the path ahead.

"Why are you going east?"

She hesitated, tension knotting in her shoulders. "I’m trying to find my daughter," she said finally, her voice low. "We got separated when the incursion started up north. I have some friends in Ozryn who might know where to find her."

"I'm sorry," I said, not knowing what else to offer. The weight of loss was something I understood all too well. “I hope she’s alright.”

"I’m sure she is," Lily continued, her voice softening. "I don’t like being away from her, but I know she can take care of herself. I’m just being cautious with the elves in the area."

“I’ll help you find her,” I promised, a sudden surge of determination filling me. “Once I’ve done what I came here to do.”

Lily chuckled, a sound tinged with both gratitude and disbelief. “Thanks, kid. But I don’t think we’ll need your help. Tinka can’t hide from me.”

“But I’m indebted to you,” I insisted. “It’s the least I can do.”

“You’re assisting me during my journey. You don’t have a debt as long as you do that magic thing and slice and dice whatever gets in our way.”

We walked in silence for a while, the forest around us providing a comforting backdrop to our shared grief. There was something about being in nature that made the pain more bearable, as if the trees and the earth could absorb some of the sorrow that threatened to overwhelm us.

After a few hours, we reached a clearing with a small stream gurgling through it. The water was crystal clear, the gentle sound of it flowing over the rocks soothing my frayed nerves. We stopped to rest, filling our water bottles, the cool water a welcome relief against the weight of our thoughts. 

As I splashed some on my face, the chill sent a jolt of clarity through me, a reminder that life continued to flow, regardless of the chaos that swirled around us. And for a brief moment, I felt the edges of my turmoil soften, blending into the rhythm of the world around us.

As we sat by the stream, the water rushing over smooth stones like whispered secrets, Lily reached into her pack and pulled out a small, leather-bound book. She began writing in it with a pen unlike any I had ever seen—a sharp blade at the end, glimmering as it danced across the page without needing a drop of ink. 

“Why are you going to the mountains?” she asked, her voice carrying an edge of curiosity.

“I’m looking for someone,” I replied, staring at the water’s surface, its reflections shifting like memories just out of reach. “Someone important to me said I needed to find her.”

“Let me guess,” Lily sighed, her tone a blend of weariness and knowing. “Naida?”

“How did you…?” 

“She’s the only thing out there worth hunting down,” the hybrid drawled, pulling her hood down to reveal ears the color of rust, tipped in black, and hair that cascaded like ink down her shoulders. “Must be needing Khione. Do you know what for?”

I cleared my throat, the words heavy with significance. “I’m trying to get extra help in the south. I was told they might be able to assist us.”

Lily laughed, but it was a humorless sound, tinged with bitterness. “Naida might. Khione? I doubt it. That old bitch doesn’t do anything except fuck the little whores she keeps in her castle while my friends starve in those mountains.”

I stared at her, taken aback by the rawness of her words, the pain wrapped around them like a vine. “That’s quite a reputation she has.”

Lily’s expression hardened, the air thickening with her disdain. “Reputation? It’s the truth. Khione has power, sure, but it comes with a price. She doesn’t help anyone unless there’s something in it for her. If you’re seeking aid, you’d better be prepared to pay dearly for it.”

“What do you mean?” I asked, a knot of anxiety tightening in my stomach.

Lily leaned back against a tree, her gaze drifting to the rushing water, as if searching for answers in its depths. “She’s got a knack for making deals that trap you. You think you’re getting help, but it’s usually a trap. You could end up worse off than before.”

I let her words sink in, the implications wrapping around my mind like a cold fog. “So, what do you suggest? Just forget about it?”

“No,” she said, her voice firm, slicing through my doubts. “I’m just saying to be cautious. If you really think Naida can help, go to her. But if Khione is involved… just be ready for anything.”

“What do you know about Naida?” I pressed, desperate for any insight that might illuminate my path.

“She’s a force to be reckoned with,” Lily replied, her tone shifting slightly, like the wind before a storm. “A protector of the mountains, they say. If anyone can help us, it might be her. But she’s not easily found, and even harder to convince. You’ll need to prove yourself worthy of her time.”

I nodded, determination battling with trepidation in my chest. “I’ll do whatever it takes.”

Lily studied me for a moment, her expression softening. “I believe you. Just remember, you’re not alone in this. We’ll figure it out together.”

“Together,” I echoed, warmth spreading through me at the reassurance. It was comforting to know I had someone by my side who understood the stakes.

We resumed our journey, the path growing steeper as we ventured deeper into the forest. The sun climbed higher, casting dappled shadows on the ground, and the air was thick with the scent of pine and earth—invigorating yet heavy with the weight of our conversations.

As we navigated the terrain, our topic shifted to lighter matters, and I found myself laughing at Lily’s sarcastic quips about the creatures of the forest. Her spirit was contagious, and the laughter felt good, a welcome reprieve from the tension that had settled in my bones.

Eventually, we reached a vantage point overlooking a vast expanse of mountains in the distance. The peaks were shrouded in mist, an ethereal quality lending them an almost otherworldly presence. I could almost feel the pull of Khione’s castle lurking somewhere among them, a siren’s call promising both danger and salvation—a promise that felt too heavy to bear.

As the sun dipped below the horizon, casting long, creeping shadows across the ground, we stumbled upon another cave. This one was smaller, cozier, and had a natural chimney that promised to keep the night’s chill at bay. The entrance was framed by thick vines and moss, giving it an almost hidden quality, like a secret the forest had kept for itself. As we stepped inside, the air was cool and damp, a welcome relief from the heat of the day, and soon we had a fire crackling to life, its flickering light casting playful shadows against the damp stone walls.

Settled by the fire, I pulled out the remnants of our meager supplies while Lily rummaged through her pack. The warmth enveloped us, creating an intimate cocoon as we prepared a simple meal from what little we had left. The aroma of the dried meat she had brought wafted into the air, mixing with the earthy scent of the cave.

“You’re a vegetarian?” Lily laughed, a sound rich with amusement that echoed around us, almost like a melody bouncing off the walls.

“Yes. Do you have any nuts?” I replied, attempting to keep my tone casual despite the slight twist of discomfort in my stomach at the thought of what she might offer.

Lily shook her head, still chuckling. “That won’t keep you healthy, little one. Have some rabbit. I killed it yesterday.” 

Her words hung in the air like a challenge. I recoiled as she brought the dried meat closer, the odor hitting me like a wave of something unpleasant—savage and primal. “Ugh,” I flinched away, my face contorting in distaste.

Her laughter deepened, a hearty sound that seemed to vibrate within the cave’s very stones. “Don’t make that face,” she teased, her voice rich with mirth. “I have a pack of nuts and mushrooms in my bag.”

I caught the bag she tossed my way, the soft thud of it landing in my hands almost comforting. “Thanks,” I said, rifling through the contents. “You know, not everyone can be a barbarian like you.”

“Barbarian?” she replied, raising an eyebrow, a smirk dancing on her lips. “Just because I prefer my meals with a bit more substance doesn’t make me a barbarian.”

“Sure, whatever you say,” I replied, rolling my eyes as I munched on a handful of nuts, their earthy taste grounding me. “But seriously, rabbit? Did you have to?”

Lily chuckled again, the firelight illuminating her features with a warm glow, casting playful shadows on her face. “You’re too soft. A little meat might toughen you up.”

“I’m plenty tough,” I shot back, more defensively than I intended. “I just don’t see the need to eat something that was hopping around yesterday.”

“Oh, I see. You’re a sensitive soul, aren’t you?” Her sarcasm dripped like honey, thick and sweet, teasing at my vulnerabilities.

“Just practical,” I countered, crossing my arms as I met her gaze. “I like my food to be, you know, not staring at me with big, sad eyes.”

Lily laughed again, a rich, genuine sound that resonated off the cave walls. “You’re a riot. Alright, sensitive soul, eat your nuts. I’ll enjoy my rabbit.” She leaned back against the cave wall, her posture relaxed yet ready.

I shook my head, unable to suppress a smile. “One day, you’ll see the benefits of a vegetarian diet.”

“Doubtful,” she said, a playful challenge in her eyes. “But hey, I’ll give you this—you’ve got guts. I like that.”

“Thanks, I guess,” I replied, feeling an unexpected sense of camaraderie despite our bickering. “I could say the same about you.”

“Oh, you’re just full of compliments tonight,” she quipped, mock bowing as if accepting an award. “What did I do to deserve such praise?”

I laughed, the tension of the day easing like the fire’s warmth. “Just being you, I suppose.”

“Well, aren’t you sweet,” she said, though her eyes sparkled with warmth, a glimmer of something deeper beneath the surface. For a fleeting moment, it felt like we were both trying to shield ourselves from the weight of the world outside, a world filled with uncertainty and danger.

We settled into a comfortable silence, the crackling fire providing a soothing backdrop to our thoughts. Despite the teasing, there was an ease between us, a shared understanding that felt almost sacred in the dim light of the cave. She reminded me of a blend of Cordelia and Thelma—strong yet nurturing, the kind of ally you wished for in times of darkness. 

As I lay down to sleep, the flickering flames began to blur into shadows, and a sense of peace washed over me—something I hadn’t felt in far too long. The nightmare from the night before felt like a distant echo, a whisper that faded with the growing warmth of the fire. I found comfort in the knowledge that whatever challenges awaited, I wouldn’t have to face them alone.

I glanced at Lily, illuminated by the firelight, her features softening as she lost herself in thought. There was a hint of sorrow in the lines around her mouth, a weathered quality I hadn’t fully appreciated until this moment. Her eyes were distant, reflecting something that felt ancient and haunting, as if they held stories of their own.

“Didn’t anyone ever tell you that swearing is rude?” she barked suddenly, her gaze flicking to me with playful accusation.

I closed my eyes, feeling a flush of embarrassment. “Once or twice.”

“Sleep, little one. I’ll try to keep your nightmares away.” Her tone was softer now, as if she understood the weight of my weariness.

My eyes snapped back open at her words. Lily noticed my surprise and smiled gently, a transformation that made her appear ten years younger, the burden of her past momentarily lifted. 

“You were crying,” she said softly, concern lacing her words.

“I’m sorry,” I mumbled, shame flooding my cheeks, wishing I could pull the memories of my fears back into the depths of my mind.

“I have nightmares, too. One day, I’ll tell you why they haunt me and why they never leave. But for now, let me share how I manage to survive them.” 

Lily pulled a band from her wrist and swept her hair into a messy ponytail. The movement highlighted her tall, pointed ears, a feature that now seemed almost majestic in the firelight. I couldn’t help but wonder about the rest of her—a creature born of both human and something wild, a mixture of strength and vulnerability hidden beneath her baggy clothes.

“On bad mornings, it feels impossible to enjoy anything because I’m terrified it could vanish. So, I play a little game: I make a mental list of every act of kindness I’ve witnessed. I just do it over and over again. It gets tedious, but after doing it for so long, you get used to it. There are worse games to play.”

Her words settled between us, a fragile bridge built from shared pain. Whatever shadows haunted her, it was clear she wouldn’t share them tonight. I was too wrapped up in my own swirling thoughts to consider her horrors—too many fears to confront, too many questions I didn’t want to voice. I didn’t think she was hoping for anything from me, anyway; she seemed content to offer her wisdom without demanding answers in return.

“Wake me if you have them,” I whispered into the darkness, feeling a strange sense of connection in the quiet. “I can try my best to keep yours away, too.”

“Thank you. You’re very sweet,” she replied, and her sincerity made my stomach twist with unease; if only she knew how wrong she was.

I rolled over, facing away from her, the warmth of her words lingering in the air like a promise. “Go to bed. We have a long day tomorrow,” she said, her voice fading into the quiet.

Lily hummed softly, but I couldn’t hear her moving around. Giving up on being social, I closed my eyes and willed myself into sleep. 

As I drifted further away from consciousness, the last thing I saw was the silhouette of a deer gliding through the trees, its antlers twisted into a heart-like shape against the dusky sky. I lay there, watching the creature as I sank deeper into slumber, just on the brink of nothingness when I felt Lily shuffle closer.

“Idiot forgot about a blanket,” she murmured, and suddenly I was enveloped in warmth, her presence a comforting shield against the unknown that lurked outside the cave. 

The warmth wrapped around me like a tender embrace, and I could no longer hold my eyes open. Just before sleep fully claimed me, I felt the stirrings of peace settle into my bones, allowing me to drift away into the safety of dreams—where the forest would guard my heart for just a little while longer.

Translations

Bicce - Female dog (bitch)

Swígan - Quiet

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